This blog has been roaming for a bit. Or, maybe more accurately, in limbo for a while. Haven't posted anything in far too long anyway.
I started blogging on MySpace, but, well, my departure from MySpace might require a blog of it's own. Facebook is all well and good, but not an interesting place for hosting a blog. So yesterday I was talking to Jason Page of ESPN radio, and he was mid-blog, so I asked him about this site. He was happy, so I went with it.
I hope now to return to blogging regularly, and keep up with it in the coming year. I have the distinct feeling that 2008 will present me with enough to say. I feel a good year coming up -- not that 2007 was at all bad -- and here will be the place to present it.
So, with luck, this is more permanent home for the blog. And to those of you who haven't followed me over from the old blog, welcome to my astigmatic view of the world.
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
17 December 2007
17 November 2007
First Facebook Blog
Archive of the first Facebook blog
So, here it is... not much to say yet, but, the fact that I can now blog on Facebook means I finally have no reason to stay with MySpace. So, I've all but nuked MySpace. My profile is still up, just so the few friends who I might actually want to talk to there know that I'm deleting my account. Hopefully some will come over here.
Actually, to be honest, I hope only some come over here. It's not that I don't want to talk to people... quite the contrary, I do want to talk to people. I have 60-odd friends here, I can actually talk to them... really keep in touch with them. On MySpace, I had 496 friends. Who has 496 friends?!? Actually, even when I went on and deleted every profile that wasn't an actual person I actually knew... I still have 190 friends.
That's great. I guess it's cool that I'm friends with 190 people... but to make reasonable contact with 190 people... not possible. So I'm happy here. 60 friends... even better, some family... I can say hi, send them a "drink"... basically put, and to borrow from the jargon of such sites, I can "Socially Network". I like it.
In the coming month, I'll probably drag over some of my blogs from the MySpace days, and hopefully have some new things to say here. When it comes right down to it, it was blogging that first brought me to MySpace in the first place. Now MySpace is out of control, but I still love to write.
So, here it is. Welcome to my blog.
So, here it is... not much to say yet, but, the fact that I can now blog on Facebook means I finally have no reason to stay with MySpace. So, I've all but nuked MySpace. My profile is still up, just so the few friends who I might actually want to talk to there know that I'm deleting my account. Hopefully some will come over here.
Actually, to be honest, I hope only some come over here. It's not that I don't want to talk to people... quite the contrary, I do want to talk to people. I have 60-odd friends here, I can actually talk to them... really keep in touch with them. On MySpace, I had 496 friends. Who has 496 friends?!? Actually, even when I went on and deleted every profile that wasn't an actual person I actually knew... I still have 190 friends.
That's great. I guess it's cool that I'm friends with 190 people... but to make reasonable contact with 190 people... not possible. So I'm happy here. 60 friends... even better, some family... I can say hi, send them a "drink"... basically put, and to borrow from the jargon of such sites, I can "Socially Network". I like it.
In the coming month, I'll probably drag over some of my blogs from the MySpace days, and hopefully have some new things to say here. When it comes right down to it, it was blogging that first brought me to MySpace in the first place. Now MySpace is out of control, but I still love to write.
So, here it is. Welcome to my blog.
28 August 2007
A funny thing happened to me on the way to Dreamland
Archive from old MySpace Blog
Current mood: amused
Category: Romance and Relationships
This blog contains graphic scenes of adults of opposite gender sharing a bed together, Reader discretion is advised.
So yeah, bedtime. Last night to be exact. Watching a little classic Trek on DVD, chilling out, zoning out, Molly's out.
Not too long ago, we got a nice new King sized bed. It's great. I love it. Molly Loves it. Not only is a King long enough that my feet don't hang off the bottom, but it gives us room to roll over without smacking each other in the head.
So I'm finishing up Wink of an Eye, Molly's sawing logs next to me...
Molly doesn't normally snore, but I guess she's suffering from a bit of allergy issue, and just, at this point, having a bit of a fitful sleep. She's tossing a bit, rolling over, snoring on and off, and even mumbling.
So, it's about 11:45, I'm relaxing, Kirk's kissing the girl, and the pillow shifts next to me. An abrupt stop in the snoring, that slight stir before someone rolls over again, an arm pops out from under the pillow, and a body rolls over.
Well...
Almost over.
I glance to my right, and discover that Molly has actually stopped mid roll-over. At least I guess that's what she did. Maybe. I don't rightly know what she was doing. But there she was, still tucked in the fetal position, face down in the pillow, knees tucked under her, ass in the air.
I've never seen a person attempt to sleep in this position. I tried to imitate the position later, and without my full weight on my elbows, I couldn't even stay up. Not to mention trying to breathe with my face buried in the pillow. I just don't get it.
But there she was, laying there -- if you can call it laying -- for a full 45 seconds, before she tossed again, into a more typical sleeping position. And I went back to watching Spock repair the entire Enterprise in 12 seconds due to the enhancing properties of the Scallosian water.
12:10, and I've decided not to watch The Empath, in favour of seeing what's on HBO. "Why'd you wake me up?" What?!?
"What?"
"Why'd you wake me up?"
"I didn't."
"No, you woke me up."
"No really, I didn't. You've been tossing and turning, snoring, and just before you were sleeping with your face in the pillow and your ass in the air."
"What?"
"Yeah, you were asleep, face down in your pillow, with you ass sticking up in the air. But I didn't wake you up."
"Uhh... you didn't wake me up?"
It's 10:00 a.m. this morning, Jenni's on vacation, and I'm doing her work, as well as my own, as well as my usual volume of email conversations. "Did you wake me up in the middle of the night last night?"
"No, but you woke up, and asked me if I woke you up, and I told you I didn't but you were sleeping with your face in the pillow and your ass in the air."
"That did happen?"
"Yup. Face down, ass up."
"Maybe I was having a dream and getting laid."
"Maybe so."
Maybe so.
Current mood: amused
Category: Romance and Relationships
This blog contains graphic scenes of adults of opposite gender sharing a bed together, Reader discretion is advised.
So yeah, bedtime. Last night to be exact. Watching a little classic Trek on DVD, chilling out, zoning out, Molly's out.
Not too long ago, we got a nice new King sized bed. It's great. I love it. Molly Loves it. Not only is a King long enough that my feet don't hang off the bottom, but it gives us room to roll over without smacking each other in the head.
So I'm finishing up Wink of an Eye, Molly's sawing logs next to me...
Molly doesn't normally snore, but I guess she's suffering from a bit of allergy issue, and just, at this point, having a bit of a fitful sleep. She's tossing a bit, rolling over, snoring on and off, and even mumbling.
So, it's about 11:45, I'm relaxing, Kirk's kissing the girl, and the pillow shifts next to me. An abrupt stop in the snoring, that slight stir before someone rolls over again, an arm pops out from under the pillow, and a body rolls over.
Well...
Almost over.
I glance to my right, and discover that Molly has actually stopped mid roll-over. At least I guess that's what she did. Maybe. I don't rightly know what she was doing. But there she was, still tucked in the fetal position, face down in the pillow, knees tucked under her, ass in the air.
I've never seen a person attempt to sleep in this position. I tried to imitate the position later, and without my full weight on my elbows, I couldn't even stay up. Not to mention trying to breathe with my face buried in the pillow. I just don't get it.
But there she was, laying there -- if you can call it laying -- for a full 45 seconds, before she tossed again, into a more typical sleeping position. And I went back to watching Spock repair the entire Enterprise in 12 seconds due to the enhancing properties of the Scallosian water.
12:10, and I've decided not to watch The Empath, in favour of seeing what's on HBO. "Why'd you wake me up?" What?!?
"What?"
"Why'd you wake me up?"
"I didn't."
"No, you woke me up."
"No really, I didn't. You've been tossing and turning, snoring, and just before you were sleeping with your face in the pillow and your ass in the air."
"What?"
"Yeah, you were asleep, face down in your pillow, with you ass sticking up in the air. But I didn't wake you up."
"Uhh... you didn't wake me up?"
It's 10:00 a.m. this morning, Jenni's on vacation, and I'm doing her work, as well as my own, as well as my usual volume of email conversations. "Did you wake me up in the middle of the night last night?"
"No, but you woke up, and asked me if I woke you up, and I told you I didn't but you were sleeping with your face in the pillow and your ass in the air."
"That did happen?"
"Yup. Face down, ass up."
"Maybe I was having a dream and getting laid."
"Maybe so."
Maybe so.
05 March 2007
WalkAmerica 2007
Achive from MySpace blog
Current mood: optimistic
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
So, again I find my self reaching out, asking you for support in my efforts to help those to small to help themselves. Every little bit helps. Together with Timmy, Angela, and Molly, between the benefit and individual sponsors for WalkAmerica, we've set a lofty team goal of $10,000 this year, but I know we can do it.
It is going to take help, though, and there's a number of ways to do so:
First, you can sponsor my walk. Or, if you want, you can sponsor Molly, Angela, Timmy, or our Walk Team directly. Or, if you happen to be in the Grater New Haven area, please come check out Drop a Dime for March of Dimes.
This is for a great cause, to help prevent premature birth. If you're wondering how he got involved with March of Dimes yourself, or walk yourself, information is also available on their site.
Thank you all for any and all support you can give.
Current mood: optimistic
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes
It's coming up on that time of year again. On April 29th, I will again participate in
This year, I am lucky to be participating in WalkAmerica with my loving girlfriend Molly, and a great friend Angela, as well as participating in the Drop a Dime for March of Dimes benefit show.
Premature birth is the leading cause of newborn death and many lifelong disabilities. You can help the March of Dimes fight prematurity by taking steps in WalkAmerica. Join WalkAmerica and a million compassionate people nationwide who care about saving babies. Do it in the name of someone you love: a premature baby, a healthy baby, your own baby, or the baby of a relative or friend.
Even before Kayden was born, I've been involved with WalkAmerica and the March of Dimes, but her birth 2 years ago steeled my resolve in regard to this cause. Kayden was born 15 weeks premature. She came into this world at a baffling 1 lb. 10 oz.
Through the excellent care available at Yale New Haven Hospital NICU, research funded by the March of Dimes, and her own amazing will to be, Kayden made it out of the hospital in about 6 months time.
So, in March 2006, I decided to once again participate in WalkAmerica. In Kayden's name... but not for Kayden. Kayden was home, and would end up coming with us for the walk. Not for Kayden, but for every little one like Kayden who'd yet to be born, for those in the NICU who, like Kayden, wouldn't see home for 6 months, and for their parents and families, who, like me 17 months earlier, needed that extra bit of hope.
So, again I find my self reaching out, asking you for support in my efforts to help those to small to help themselves. Every little bit helps. Together with Timmy, Angela, and Molly, between the benefit and individual sponsors for WalkAmerica, we've set a lofty team goal of $10,000 this year, but I know we can do it.
It is going to take help, though, and there's a number of ways to do so:
First, you can sponsor my walk. Or, if you want, you can sponsor Molly, Angela, Timmy, or our Walk Team directly. Or, if you happen to be in the Grater New Haven area, please come check out Drop a Dime for March of Dimes.
This is for a great cause, to help prevent premature birth. If you're wondering how he got involved with March of Dimes yourself, or walk yourself, information is also available on their site.
Thank you all for any and all support you can give.
26 February 2007
The Lost Blog
Archive from MySpace blog
Current mood: reminiscent
Category: reminiscent Blogging
OK, no... I know Molly has told many of you of our newfound obsession with the TV show LOST... but that's not what this blog is about. Instead this is the blog I never got to 2 weeks ago, when this story occurred.
So, without further ado... here we go.
Cape Fear
February 18, 2007
Have you ever got that call? You know, the one where you can win some vacation / trip / prize if you attend their seminar where they try to sell you vacation property. Yeah. What kind of person says yes to that? Well... we found out.
4 free plane tickets, anywhere in the US and Europe. The exchange: a 90 minute sales pitch for a Vacation Club, on Cape Cod. Granted, we'd just won 4 plane tickets with far less strings attached, but really, can one have too many free plane tickets? And what the heck, I'd never been to Cape Cod.
So, 9:30 Sunday morning, we hop in the car. An hour later, we're in Wyoming, RI, home of one of our favourite Tim Horton's. 2 coffees, a water, a croissant, and fruit punch, 10 TimBits, a Canadian Maple doughnut, and we're back on the road. It's a Sunday, but we're making great time to and through Rhode Island. Even a pretty serious car accident outside Cranston only delays us about 15 seconds.
Not too long later, and we're in Falmouth, MA, and at the InnSeasons Resort. Umm... looks like a motel to me, actually. Who cares, check-in time. Present ID, and a credit card. The letter states a credit card or check book must be provided as a second form of ID due to the valuable nature of the gifts, but I learn later, they just want to make sure you bring your money so you can buy at the end. Don't worry, no one swept or got the numbers off the card.
So, we're sitting in the "living room" and in walks our... guide... salesman, whatever, Harry, an 80-something guy in a bow-tie. Harry owns a pharmaceutical R&D company, but chooses to spend his retirement years hocking "memberships" in this "vacation club". Hey, to each his own. But this self-made entrepreneur, a man who graduated MIT in the 40's, is oddly impressed with my last name. Fascinated even. Fascinated... in a vaguely senile way. He wants to know if I've ever talked with my famous Arctic (Antarctic, actually Harry, but close enough) exploring Great-Uncle, who died about 45 years before I was born. OK, maybe the MIT grad is bad a math. Hell, at 80, Harry would have been like 10 when Sir Ernest died.
But I digress. Harry got down to business, and through some amazing computation -- hey, he went to MIT -- he calculated that at approximately $150 a trip, 2 or 3 times a year, Molly and I will somehow spend $867,000 in vacations by the time we're sixty. The be honest, even Harry seemed slightly shocked by the result of this computation. But $867,000 is what the computer said we would spend, and he was certain he could save us money with the InnSeasons program.
The program is simple, you buy a time share in a resort. Then you pay to maintain your share. Then you pay to use your share. Then you pay to have the right to trade your share for somewhere else. Then you pay to trade your share. Then you pay for the right to trade your share internationally. Then you pay to trade your share internationally. Then you pay for the agent that arranges your airfare. Then you pay for your airfare. Then you pay for an extra calculator to help you figure out what on earth you just paid. But fear not, this is the greatest bargain in the vacation world.
Harry takes us on a tour of the local facilities, 3 resorts in Falmouth, all of which are full. It's Mid-February, and all three resorts -- on Cape Cod -- have no vacancies. What on earth would be our chances of actually booking a vacation in the summer?!? Scary. Scarier still is the fact that, aside from the 3 resort properties, everything in this town is vacant, abandoned, and boarded up. It almost looks like we're driving through a Scooby Doo episode, except instead of a talking dog and an arrogant blonde man in an ascot, we have Harry, and possibly the oldest man on Cape Cod driving the van.
At one point, after explaining the fees schedule, Harry asked what I would pay for the actual property. I really thought the answer was supposed to be 0. Alas, it wasn't. Before any of the fees listed above, the initial property (which really isn't property at all) was going to cast us $143,000. Don't worry, they finance on an 8 year term at 15% interest!
So, we politely tell Harry that -- and we blame my upcoming educational costs -- we can't afford this deal at the moment (not like we ever intended to buy 0, and wait for the delivery of our plane tickets. But the plane tickets don't arrive yet. No. First, the Arab horse-trader.
Now I have nothing against persons of Middle Eastern descent, but it does seem when you need someone to wheel and deal and barter and swindle, you just have to bring in the Arab. So "what if I offer you half the points? And see this number... gone. See this... I pay this for the next 5 years. And this fee... you don't pay it. I pay that. And I pay this for 3 years. And I give 3 bonus weeks. And this... no, don't pay that; that you pay in names. You give me 10 names... paid. You give 20 names... I give you $50. You give me 30 names... I pay this, give you $75 dollars, and you get this camel." OK, he didn't offer me a camel, but it was that bad. At the end, the numbers still seemed unreasonable -- not that anything was truly reasonable, since we had no intent to buy anything.
So we thank them both for their time again, and we sign off on the declination of our special deal, and we get our gifts. $25 in dinner, $100 in gas rebates, and 4 round-trip airline tickets. So, being rather hungry since the 90 minute tour took us an hour and 20 minutes, we roll of to get lunch.
The $25 meal certificate is for a place called the Carolina Bar-B-Q Barn Restaurant and Bar. We pass. We're sure we can find something good in Hyanis. So up Falmouth Road we go. And as we do, we pass Cape Mac. At first I thought Molly said Cape Mack, and just thought it was some little town, but it turns out it's a computer store she regularly does business with. We try to stop in and say hi, maybe get a good tip on a place to do lunch, but alas, they're closed. Little did we know that would be the theme of the day.
Continuing on we pass a number of oddly names towns and hamlets. It's odd... we settled this land, drove off the Native Americans, yet kept all their hideously unpronounceable names. Onward we drive. The Old Abandoned Concert Pavilion. Where's Old Man Wiggins? And this place... ah yes, this place...
Something completely awesome about a place called "3 Way Liquors". If only liquor was spelled a little different. OK, 6th grade, I know. Anyway...
Hyanis. Umm... that's what the sign said. OK, I'll roll toward the Center. Umm... OK I'll roll toward the beach. Yup... it's a beach. Sand washing across the small town street, boarded up building line either side... a bustling metropolis. OK... here's my advice here: Don't, under any circumstances, waste your time traveling to Cape Cod out of season. Spring: Great. Summer: Awesome. Fall: Wonderful. Winter...
In the Winter, Cape Cod transforms to an odd coastal version of Appalachia, North of the Mason-Dixon line. Rednecks, in salt-rotting pick-ups, park the clam boats on their front lawns while their teen children congregate at combination grocery-liquor-pizza shops that dot the otherwise abandoned thoroughfares.
OK, I said this blog isn't about LOST, but if any of you do watch LOST, think back to "The Others", when they find the raft and kidnap Walt... "We're gonna hafta take the boy." Yeah, that's Cape Cod in February. We were kind of afraid to get out of the car, so after an hour loop of the Cape Cod beaches, again passing (and finally taking a picture of) 3 Way Liquors, and coming right back to the Carolina Bar-B-Q Barn Bar and Restaurant, we just decided to stop at the local 99 Restaurant. At least it was familiar.
Current mood: reminiscent
Category: reminiscent Blogging
OK, no... I know Molly has told many of you of our newfound obsession with the TV show LOST... but that's not what this blog is about. Instead this is the blog I never got to 2 weeks ago, when this story occurred.
So, without further ado... here we go.
Cape Fear
February 18, 2007
Have you ever got that call? You know, the one where you can win some vacation / trip / prize if you attend their seminar where they try to sell you vacation property. Yeah. What kind of person says yes to that? Well... we found out.
4 free plane tickets, anywhere in the US and Europe. The exchange: a 90 minute sales pitch for a Vacation Club, on Cape Cod. Granted, we'd just won 4 plane tickets with far less strings attached, but really, can one have too many free plane tickets? And what the heck, I'd never been to Cape Cod.
So, 9:30 Sunday morning, we hop in the car. An hour later, we're in Wyoming, RI, home of one of our favourite Tim Horton's. 2 coffees, a water, a croissant, and fruit punch, 10 TimBits, a Canadian Maple doughnut, and we're back on the road. It's a Sunday, but we're making great time to and through Rhode Island. Even a pretty serious car accident outside Cranston only delays us about 15 seconds.
Not too long later, and we're in Falmouth, MA, and at the InnSeasons Resort. Umm... looks like a motel to me, actually. Who cares, check-in time. Present ID, and a credit card. The letter states a credit card or check book must be provided as a second form of ID due to the valuable nature of the gifts, but I learn later, they just want to make sure you bring your money so you can buy at the end. Don't worry, no one swept or got the numbers off the card.
So, we're sitting in the "living room" and in walks our... guide... salesman, whatever, Harry, an 80-something guy in a bow-tie. Harry owns a pharmaceutical R&D company, but chooses to spend his retirement years hocking "memberships" in this "vacation club". Hey, to each his own. But this self-made entrepreneur, a man who graduated MIT in the 40's, is oddly impressed with my last name. Fascinated even. Fascinated... in a vaguely senile way. He wants to know if I've ever talked with my famous Arctic (Antarctic, actually Harry, but close enough) exploring Great-Uncle, who died about 45 years before I was born. OK, maybe the MIT grad is bad a math. Hell, at 80, Harry would have been like 10 when Sir Ernest died.
But I digress. Harry got down to business, and through some amazing computation -- hey, he went to MIT -- he calculated that at approximately $150 a trip, 2 or 3 times a year, Molly and I will somehow spend $867,000 in vacations by the time we're sixty. The be honest, even Harry seemed slightly shocked by the result of this computation. But $867,000 is what the computer said we would spend, and he was certain he could save us money with the InnSeasons program.
The program is simple, you buy a time share in a resort. Then you pay to maintain your share. Then you pay to use your share. Then you pay to have the right to trade your share for somewhere else. Then you pay to trade your share. Then you pay for the right to trade your share internationally. Then you pay to trade your share internationally. Then you pay for the agent that arranges your airfare. Then you pay for your airfare. Then you pay for an extra calculator to help you figure out what on earth you just paid. But fear not, this is the greatest bargain in the vacation world.
Harry takes us on a tour of the local facilities, 3 resorts in Falmouth, all of which are full. It's Mid-February, and all three resorts -- on Cape Cod -- have no vacancies. What on earth would be our chances of actually booking a vacation in the summer?!? Scary. Scarier still is the fact that, aside from the 3 resort properties, everything in this town is vacant, abandoned, and boarded up. It almost looks like we're driving through a Scooby Doo episode, except instead of a talking dog and an arrogant blonde man in an ascot, we have Harry, and possibly the oldest man on Cape Cod driving the van.
At one point, after explaining the fees schedule, Harry asked what I would pay for the actual property. I really thought the answer was supposed to be 0. Alas, it wasn't. Before any of the fees listed above, the initial property (which really isn't property at all) was going to cast us $143,000. Don't worry, they finance on an 8 year term at 15% interest!
So, we politely tell Harry that -- and we blame my upcoming educational costs -- we can't afford this deal at the moment (not like we ever intended to buy 0, and wait for the delivery of our plane tickets. But the plane tickets don't arrive yet. No. First, the Arab horse-trader.
Now I have nothing against persons of Middle Eastern descent, but it does seem when you need someone to wheel and deal and barter and swindle, you just have to bring in the Arab. So "what if I offer you half the points? And see this number... gone. See this... I pay this for the next 5 years. And this fee... you don't pay it. I pay that. And I pay this for 3 years. And I give 3 bonus weeks. And this... no, don't pay that; that you pay in names. You give me 10 names... paid. You give 20 names... I give you $50. You give me 30 names... I pay this, give you $75 dollars, and you get this camel." OK, he didn't offer me a camel, but it was that bad. At the end, the numbers still seemed unreasonable -- not that anything was truly reasonable, since we had no intent to buy anything.
So we thank them both for their time again, and we sign off on the declination of our special deal, and we get our gifts. $25 in dinner, $100 in gas rebates, and 4 round-trip airline tickets. So, being rather hungry since the 90 minute tour took us an hour and 20 minutes, we roll of to get lunch.
The $25 meal certificate is for a place called the Carolina Bar-B-Q Barn Restaurant and Bar. We pass. We're sure we can find something good in Hyanis. So up Falmouth Road we go. And as we do, we pass Cape Mac. At first I thought Molly said Cape Mack, and just thought it was some little town, but it turns out it's a computer store she regularly does business with. We try to stop in and say hi, maybe get a good tip on a place to do lunch, but alas, they're closed. Little did we know that would be the theme of the day.
Continuing on we pass a number of oddly names towns and hamlets. It's odd... we settled this land, drove off the Native Americans, yet kept all their hideously unpronounceable names. Onward we drive. The Old Abandoned Concert Pavilion. Where's Old Man Wiggins? And this place... ah yes, this place...
Something completely awesome about a place called "3 Way Liquors". If only liquor was spelled a little different. OK, 6th grade, I know. Anyway...
Hyanis. Umm... that's what the sign said. OK, I'll roll toward the Center. Umm... OK I'll roll toward the beach. Yup... it's a beach. Sand washing across the small town street, boarded up building line either side... a bustling metropolis. OK... here's my advice here: Don't, under any circumstances, waste your time traveling to Cape Cod out of season. Spring: Great. Summer: Awesome. Fall: Wonderful. Winter...
In the Winter, Cape Cod transforms to an odd coastal version of Appalachia, North of the Mason-Dixon line. Rednecks, in salt-rotting pick-ups, park the clam boats on their front lawns while their teen children congregate at combination grocery-liquor-pizza shops that dot the otherwise abandoned thoroughfares.
OK, I said this blog isn't about LOST, but if any of you do watch LOST, think back to "The Others", when they find the raft and kidnap Walt... "We're gonna hafta take the boy." Yeah, that's Cape Cod in February. We were kind of afraid to get out of the car, so after an hour loop of the Cape Cod beaches, again passing (and finally taking a picture of) 3 Way Liquors, and coming right back to the Carolina Bar-B-Q Barn Bar and Restaurant, we just decided to stop at the local 99 Restaurant. At least it was familiar.
01 October 2006
To Protect and Serve, and share a laugh
Archived MySpace blog
OK, so I've been tagged, and should be writing another blog... but I wanted to tell this little story first. So... tough; my blog, you read what I type. OK, no, I will get back to being tagged later. But, for now, let me tell you about last night.
So, Molly and I are coming home from Brian's Birthday party. Kudos to Brian and moreover Jack, for putting together such an amazing party. But, as happens, the night wore on, and it was time for us to make the trek back from Norwalk to Branford.
We decide to drive up Rte. 1 for a while, instead of getting straight on the highway, in hopes of finding Dunkin Donuts on our way... and, about a mile up, in the sleepy town of Westport, we do.
Two coffees now on board, back onto Rt. 1. About a quarter mile up, on the right, in a gas station that seems to have been closed for hours, I spy one of Westport's Finest. No worries. Just going a half mile to the highway entrance, it's late, doing nothing wrong.
"That's odd." "What's that?" "The lights on the top of his car... he doesn't seem to have any." "Oh I've seen that. Some of..." "I think they're on the sides." "Makes sense. Whalen is making... oh, he's following us." "Why?" "No reason, I'm sure. Just gotta earn his donut."
Turn right toward the highway, 5-0 still following. I've known he's there for the last 1/2 mile or so, no way I've stepped over 40. Lights: red and blues. Pull over. Grab my license, and reg and insurance card from the glove box. Window down. See the usual swagger up, and the mag-lite.
"Mornin' Officer." "Morning. You got a taillight out. Just have to harass you for it." 'Harass.' Yes he said 'Harass'. "Oh." Kinda sighed, kinda laughed. Wow they really have nothing to do in Westport at 1 in the morning. "I'll get that fixed tomorrow." "Been drinking tonight?" Molly gives a no; I tell him "had a beer and hour or so." "Got any warrants?" "Nah... I work for the State's Attorney's office; couldn't let that happen." "OK, I just gotta run these [license and reg], and you're all set."
"He pulled me over for a taillight. Wow, these have nothing to do out here. Told you... just gotta earn his..."
"OK, you're all set. This is a written warning; just gotta prove to my boss that I did something tonight" "OK, is this the kind I have to bring to DMV?" "No, I didn't check off 'defective equipment'. I just need something to give to my Sergeant. Just throw it away. You can just toss it out the window when I turn around." Ummm... so you can pull me over again for littering?" "Nah... I'm turning right around as soon as I'm back in my car." "OK. Have a good night." "Hey," Molly interjects, "did you see this?" The mag-lite shines back in the car. "This", as she reaches for my air freshener. It's a picture of this Officer Friendly looking cop, with the words 'Police Are My Favorite People' "That's great. Where'd you get that?" "Some little shop in Newport. Horribly... it's donut scented." "That's great. I have to get one."
In the town of Westport, busted taillights are considered especially heinous. At 1 in the morning, these cases are handles by the men and women of the Special Taillight Unit. These are their stories.
OK, so I've been tagged, and should be writing another blog... but I wanted to tell this little story first. So... tough; my blog, you read what I type. OK, no, I will get back to being tagged later. But, for now, let me tell you about last night.
So, Molly and I are coming home from Brian's Birthday party. Kudos to Brian and moreover Jack, for putting together such an amazing party. But, as happens, the night wore on, and it was time for us to make the trek back from Norwalk to Branford.
We decide to drive up Rte. 1 for a while, instead of getting straight on the highway, in hopes of finding Dunkin Donuts on our way... and, about a mile up, in the sleepy town of Westport, we do.
Two coffees now on board, back onto Rt. 1. About a quarter mile up, on the right, in a gas station that seems to have been closed for hours, I spy one of Westport's Finest. No worries. Just going a half mile to the highway entrance, it's late, doing nothing wrong.
"That's odd." "What's that?" "The lights on the top of his car... he doesn't seem to have any." "Oh I've seen that. Some of..." "I think they're on the sides." "Makes sense. Whalen is making... oh, he's following us." "Why?" "No reason, I'm sure. Just gotta earn his donut."
Turn right toward the highway, 5-0 still following. I've known he's there for the last 1/2 mile or so, no way I've stepped over 40. Lights: red and blues. Pull over. Grab my license, and reg and insurance card from the glove box. Window down. See the usual swagger up, and the mag-lite.
"Mornin' Officer." "Morning. You got a taillight out. Just have to harass you for it." 'Harass.' Yes he said 'Harass'. "Oh." Kinda sighed, kinda laughed. Wow they really have nothing to do in Westport at 1 in the morning. "I'll get that fixed tomorrow." "Been drinking tonight?" Molly gives a no; I tell him "had a beer and hour or so." "Got any warrants?" "Nah... I work for the State's Attorney's office; couldn't let that happen." "OK, I just gotta run these [license and reg], and you're all set."
"He pulled me over for a taillight. Wow, these have nothing to do out here. Told you... just gotta earn his..."
"OK, you're all set. This is a written warning; just gotta prove to my boss that I did something tonight" "OK, is this the kind I have to bring to DMV?" "No, I didn't check off 'defective equipment'. I just need something to give to my Sergeant. Just throw it away. You can just toss it out the window when I turn around." Ummm... so you can pull me over again for littering?" "Nah... I'm turning right around as soon as I'm back in my car." "OK. Have a good night." "Hey," Molly interjects, "did you see this?" The mag-lite shines back in the car. "This", as she reaches for my air freshener. It's a picture of this Officer Friendly looking cop, with the words 'Police Are My Favorite People' "That's great. Where'd you get that?" "Some little shop in Newport. Horribly... it's donut scented." "That's great. I have to get one."
In the town of Westport, busted taillights are considered especially heinous. At 1 in the morning, these cases are handles by the men and women of the Special Taillight Unit. These are their stories.
11 September 2006
5 Years Later and Where are We Now?
Archived MySpace Blog
Current mood: pondering
Category: pondering Blogging
So, yeah, this is a September 11th blog. 5 years ago today... we all know what happened... or do we? I'm not going to debate that. A lot of opinions to be had. I'm not endorsing any opinions here, just making some observations.
So, 5 years later...
Osama Bin Laden... still somewhere... still out there... maybe. Maybe he died of the renal failure already. Maybe his videotaped messages were recorded 3 years ago. Do we know? Will we ever?
Saddam Husein... captured... deloused... standing trial before a jury of his peers? Who are his peers anyway? Well, there's one less Jerry Garcia look-alike in power in the Middle East. That's a good thing, right?
And that brings us to Iraq... still there. I think we just found a WMD... no that was just a Pepsi can from the last time we were over there. The Right still argues that we need to be there... The Cradle of Civilization is the Cradle of Terror. The Left still argues against... Bush knew there was no connection... where are the WMDs? I don't know... if this war is really about oil, why am I paying 3.07 a gallon?
Positive effect: Sales of American flags at their highest point since World War II.
Negative effect: I haven't seen an American flag flying at the top of its pole in 5 years.
And of flying... oh let's please talk about air travel. I so love flying barefoot and parched. My sandwich was confiscated as I might have used Enriched Uranium peanut butter and explosive jelly. I wanted to wash it down with a Gatorade. Sorry. My luggage is still being sent to the wrong coast, but now when I get of the plane I have to have long fingernails, unmanageable hair, and bad breath. But I feel so much safer after being harassed and having my $200 suitcase destroyed by the highly trained members of the TSA.
TSA, DHS, NSA, ICE. Yes ICE. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Formerly 2 different organizations: INS and Customs. One about Immigrants, legal and otherwise, and one about taxation. Now we've combined the both into one super-agency... all under the control of Homeland Security. Both simultaneously checked and balanced, right?
Homeland Security took over FEMA too. So glad. September 11th proved that all disasters are caused by terrorists, right? And because terrorists caused Hurricane Katrina, the new Homeland Security run FEMA was incredibly prepared to handle the situation. See, the system works.
The Patriot Act works, too. So many terrorists have been caught because they borrowed "Al Quaeda's Guide to Terrorism" from their local libraries.
I'm beginning to feel that my right to Patriotism no longer exists. The original patriots of this nation spoke out against the things that didn't like in the existing government. If I do that, I'm called unpatriotic. Hmmm... My head is getting sore from scratching it. Sometimes I think the Constitution has been tossed out the window. But we did elect Mr. W; he represents the opinions of the majority. Right? I think so. In 2 more years we get to elect another monarch... sorry, President. Anyone but Cheney, 2008. The mantra of the politically disaffected. Voting in the negative. Kerry because he's not Bush, even if he looks like lurch from the Addams Family. I could end up voting for Steve-O from Jackass just because he's not Dick Cheney. I'm sorry, but I don't think the 2 party system adequately represents the political consciousness of my generation. Know what? I'm voting Whig!
5 years later... still not sure if it was a plane or a missile that hit the Pentagon.
5 years later... not sure if the whole event was foretold by the proper folding of a $20 bill.
5 years later... Toby Keith still wants put a boot up my ass.
5 years later... half my friends list is inundating me with video bulletins about how George Bush is a Nazi in league with the Pope and Emperor Palpatine, while the other half is sending me pictures of the Statue of Liberty flipping off terrorists.
5 years later... where are we? Afghanistan? Iraq? Lebanon? Korea? The most powerful nation in the world or the largest terrorist nation in the world? Maybe we're just as the movie put it... Team America: World Police.
I don't know, and I don't think I care anymore. I don't think it matters. If Al Gore is right, we'll all be under water in 10 years anyway.
Current mood: pondering
Category: pondering Blogging
So, yeah, this is a September 11th blog. 5 years ago today... we all know what happened... or do we? I'm not going to debate that. A lot of opinions to be had. I'm not endorsing any opinions here, just making some observations.
So, 5 years later...
Osama Bin Laden... still somewhere... still out there... maybe. Maybe he died of the renal failure already. Maybe his videotaped messages were recorded 3 years ago. Do we know? Will we ever?
Saddam Husein... captured... deloused... standing trial before a jury of his peers? Who are his peers anyway? Well, there's one less Jerry Garcia look-alike in power in the Middle East. That's a good thing, right?
And that brings us to Iraq... still there. I think we just found a WMD... no that was just a Pepsi can from the last time we were over there. The Right still argues that we need to be there... The Cradle of Civilization is the Cradle of Terror. The Left still argues against... Bush knew there was no connection... where are the WMDs? I don't know... if this war is really about oil, why am I paying 3.07 a gallon?
Positive effect: Sales of American flags at their highest point since World War II.
Negative effect: I haven't seen an American flag flying at the top of its pole in 5 years.
And of flying... oh let's please talk about air travel. I so love flying barefoot and parched. My sandwich was confiscated as I might have used Enriched Uranium peanut butter and explosive jelly. I wanted to wash it down with a Gatorade. Sorry. My luggage is still being sent to the wrong coast, but now when I get of the plane I have to have long fingernails, unmanageable hair, and bad breath. But I feel so much safer after being harassed and having my $200 suitcase destroyed by the highly trained members of the TSA.
TSA, DHS, NSA, ICE. Yes ICE. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Formerly 2 different organizations: INS and Customs. One about Immigrants, legal and otherwise, and one about taxation. Now we've combined the both into one super-agency... all under the control of Homeland Security. Both simultaneously checked and balanced, right?
Homeland Security took over FEMA too. So glad. September 11th proved that all disasters are caused by terrorists, right? And because terrorists caused Hurricane Katrina, the new Homeland Security run FEMA was incredibly prepared to handle the situation. See, the system works.
The Patriot Act works, too. So many terrorists have been caught because they borrowed "Al Quaeda's Guide to Terrorism" from their local libraries.
I'm beginning to feel that my right to Patriotism no longer exists. The original patriots of this nation spoke out against the things that didn't like in the existing government. If I do that, I'm called unpatriotic. Hmmm... My head is getting sore from scratching it. Sometimes I think the Constitution has been tossed out the window. But we did elect Mr. W; he represents the opinions of the majority. Right? I think so. In 2 more years we get to elect another monarch... sorry, President. Anyone but Cheney, 2008. The mantra of the politically disaffected. Voting in the negative. Kerry because he's not Bush, even if he looks like lurch from the Addams Family. I could end up voting for Steve-O from Jackass just because he's not Dick Cheney. I'm sorry, but I don't think the 2 party system adequately represents the political consciousness of my generation. Know what? I'm voting Whig!
5 years later... still not sure if it was a plane or a missile that hit the Pentagon.
5 years later... not sure if the whole event was foretold by the proper folding of a $20 bill.
5 years later... Toby Keith still wants put a boot up my ass.
5 years later... half my friends list is inundating me with video bulletins about how George Bush is a Nazi in league with the Pope and Emperor Palpatine, while the other half is sending me pictures of the Statue of Liberty flipping off terrorists.
5 years later... where are we? Afghanistan? Iraq? Lebanon? Korea? The most powerful nation in the world or the largest terrorist nation in the world? Maybe we're just as the movie put it... Team America: World Police.
I don't know, and I don't think I care anymore. I don't think it matters. If Al Gore is right, we'll all be under water in 10 years anyway.
21 August 2006
Things to Do in Connecticut When You're Doing Nothing
Archived MySpace blog
Category: Blogging
By now everyone has read the tales of trips to Montréal, Nine Inch Nails Concerts, Volkswagen Festivals in New Jersey, and the like. Now, I think it's only fair to show the other side. This is...
Down Time
This is the tale of a weekend with no plans. My eye is finally pretty much back to normal. There are a few weekends left in Summer. The weather is fine. And... there are no plans anywhere.
Friday night I enjoyed a couple at Richter's while wishing a co-worker good luck as he moved on to greener pastures in the Stamford office. Actually, anywhere in Connecticut is greener pastures than here when you're talking about the courts. After a short stay at said Happy Hour, back home and the promise of the new Indiana Jones box set -- "You call him 'Dr. Jones', doll"
The rest of Friday night was spent in. Molly and I watched Raiders of the Lost Ark, accompanied by Jersey Mike's subs, and a bit more drink. Would have been quite the relaxing night had Molly's back not completely given out... but Tiger Balm and a hot towel massage soothed things to a sleepable state, and the night proved relaxing after all.
Saturday morning came, and the call of a friend in need pointed our day mid-state. Southington around 3:00 left us the first half of the day open, and presented two wonderful opportunities: Momentum Tuning, and Tim Horton's.
So we drive up to Meriden, to the closest Tim Horton's in the state, and one exit North of Momentum Tuning, to a little area we have since dubbed Little Toronto. Tim' Horton's Donuts on one side of East Main, Toronto Dominion Bank on the other, it's like a little slice of Canada in the middle of Meriden. We sit on the curb, enjoying our coffees, me with a tasty cinnamon roll, and Molly, a donut, I believe.
Leaving Tim's, coffees in hand, and rolling one exit South on the Wilbur Cross, we approach Momentum Tuning, an automotive shop specializing in the performance Volkswagen market. What a wonderful little niche market! However, it would seem that the true location of said shop is guarded in Volkswagen enthusiast secrecy. Up and down North Plains Industrial Rd we drive, looking for this place. A call to 411, and we discover... closed. Shortly after hanging up, we do discover the hidden lair of the gurus of Volkswagen tuning, and confirm that the shop does not have weekend hours. But for a long day on Thursday, and the fact that I only work until 3:30 on Mondays, I had feared I may never see the inside of this most hallowed shrine of Volkswagen Performance. Alas, it is now only 1:30, and We are not to meet Lonnie until 3 or 4.
US 5 through Wallingford is about the same as any main drag through any Northeast town... fast food, car dealerships, and mid-priced retail shopping. We found ourselves in Big Lots. What a great place. Wonders of the world... literally... have you ever seen Indian cuisine packaged for sale in South America? I thought not. An Axe deodorant gift set garnered me my second "Evil Rubber Ducky", and I received a 2nd, 3rd, and 4th phone call from the cretins trying to sell me drugs illegally from some 3rd World country. "Can I ask you what medications you're on?" The calls finally ceased when Molly tells them "Well, I think it's kind of intrusive for you to ask me that. I'm on the AZT and I have herpes." The phone calls ceased, but oddly no one in Big Lots even batted an eye.
A quick phone call to Lonnie revealed that 3 or 4 had now become 5, and so our destination became the Meriden Square Mall, but on the way through, we decided to stop in at the porn store. Yeah, I said it. Problem... the porn store was closed for 5 while the employee took a break. Next door for 2 failed scratch tickets, and... oddly... a porn mag, then back to the porn store. Surprisingly, we did better in the market next door, and we left the store empty handed.
Since Westfield bought all the malls in Connecticut it seems, effectively the Meriden Square Mall is the same as any other mall in this state, only laid out differently. A bathroom break, 2 gumballs, and a pair of jeans for Molly later, it's time to head to Lonnie's. There, we are greeted with the sight of the truck I should have been moving with, a van with a 12' box on the back. Tiny, efficient, appropriate for a small apartment move. (Mine was 53' long.) We emptied it in 30 minutes.
I've missed Arby's living in Branford, and since Southington has one, that is where we had our evening meal. It was uneventful on its own, although the site of Molly and I laughing and joking and having a good time in the food line seemed to upset the locals. The gene pool is little more than a puddle out there it seems.
The drive home brought us by Ocean State Job Lot, and a clothing store called pay/half. Cheap shopping seemed to be the mode of the day. Pay/half was a bust, but at Job Lot, Molly happened upon a 1:16 scale model of the Volkswagen W12 Nardo. No, no one actually knows what that car is... I'll have to blog it later. Saturday ended with a DVD's on the couch... no, I said we didn't buy anything at the porn store... The Poseidon Adventure. Irvin Allen's classic, and the perfect follow-up to the week before's Towering Inferno. Stonebridge was ruled out, and we ended the day in a lazy fashion.
Sunday arrived as it usually does, and the late morning suggested coffee. Off we went to Dunkin' Donuts. Walked in, and got in line, until... Molly realized that it was a planless Sunday, and our relaxing coffee pause was better served at Common Grounds, where not only is the coffee better, but one can sit at a table on the sidewalk, and enjoy a cigarette as well. Before leaving, however, Molly managed to find two aging nerds in Dunkin' Donuts, and through them join the Branford Chess Club.
In order to have a coffee and cigarette, we must first stop for cigarettes. Enter Branford Book & Card. There's a line, so I decided to explore the international news section while waiting. Somehow we end up with 2 packs of Marb Lights, and another porn mag.
Coffees, smokes, a croissant, and a raspberry crumb cake, reading porn in downtown Branford. What does this suggest? Of course. A trip to Old Glory.
Old Glory is a head shop. There are 5 or six of them in the state, and I believe more in other states. No, neither Molly nor I partake in the stickiest of the icky, but Old Glory is great place to pick up t-shirts, wallets, and our personal goal, belt buckles.
A stoned clerk helped us acquire a Metallica "Whiskey in the Jar" tee, a Sex Pistols "God Save the Queen" tee, and a belt buckle, limited edition made in 1979, of a small aircraft gauge pod. It's sweet. If you don't understand what it is from that description, don't feel bad, neither did Eddie.
Yes, Eddie. Recently back from parts unknown... the Midwest... Eddie had invited us to lunch. Archie Moore's. Fairly New Haven famous. Good food, drink; I had a Swithwick's and something called the "Pulled Pig" sandwich. Pork barbecue is always good by me. The promise of karaoke later turns out to be a pass, but that's fine by everyone involved, and the late afternoon rolls off into an evening defined by Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
I think that's it. Just a weekend off, nothing much to do, no plans to speak of. Just a little down time.
Category: Blogging
By now everyone has read the tales of trips to Montréal, Nine Inch Nails Concerts, Volkswagen Festivals in New Jersey, and the like. Now, I think it's only fair to show the other side. This is...
Down Time
This is the tale of a weekend with no plans. My eye is finally pretty much back to normal. There are a few weekends left in Summer. The weather is fine. And... there are no plans anywhere.
Friday night I enjoyed a couple at Richter's while wishing a co-worker good luck as he moved on to greener pastures in the Stamford office. Actually, anywhere in Connecticut is greener pastures than here when you're talking about the courts. After a short stay at said Happy Hour, back home and the promise of the new Indiana Jones box set -- "You call him 'Dr. Jones', doll"
The rest of Friday night was spent in. Molly and I watched Raiders of the Lost Ark, accompanied by Jersey Mike's subs, and a bit more drink. Would have been quite the relaxing night had Molly's back not completely given out... but Tiger Balm and a hot towel massage soothed things to a sleepable state, and the night proved relaxing after all.
Saturday morning came, and the call of a friend in need pointed our day mid-state. Southington around 3:00 left us the first half of the day open, and presented two wonderful opportunities: Momentum Tuning, and Tim Horton's.
So we drive up to Meriden, to the closest Tim Horton's in the state, and one exit North of Momentum Tuning, to a little area we have since dubbed Little Toronto. Tim' Horton's Donuts on one side of East Main, Toronto Dominion Bank on the other, it's like a little slice of Canada in the middle of Meriden. We sit on the curb, enjoying our coffees, me with a tasty cinnamon roll, and Molly, a donut, I believe.
Leaving Tim's, coffees in hand, and rolling one exit South on the Wilbur Cross, we approach Momentum Tuning, an automotive shop specializing in the performance Volkswagen market. What a wonderful little niche market! However, it would seem that the true location of said shop is guarded in Volkswagen enthusiast secrecy. Up and down North Plains Industrial Rd we drive, looking for this place. A call to 411, and we discover... closed. Shortly after hanging up, we do discover the hidden lair of the gurus of Volkswagen tuning, and confirm that the shop does not have weekend hours. But for a long day on Thursday, and the fact that I only work until 3:30 on Mondays, I had feared I may never see the inside of this most hallowed shrine of Volkswagen Performance. Alas, it is now only 1:30, and We are not to meet Lonnie until 3 or 4.
US 5 through Wallingford is about the same as any main drag through any Northeast town... fast food, car dealerships, and mid-priced retail shopping. We found ourselves in Big Lots. What a great place. Wonders of the world... literally... have you ever seen Indian cuisine packaged for sale in South America? I thought not. An Axe deodorant gift set garnered me my second "Evil Rubber Ducky", and I received a 2nd, 3rd, and 4th phone call from the cretins trying to sell me drugs illegally from some 3rd World country. "Can I ask you what medications you're on?" The calls finally ceased when Molly tells them "Well, I think it's kind of intrusive for you to ask me that. I'm on the AZT and I have herpes." The phone calls ceased, but oddly no one in Big Lots even batted an eye.
A quick phone call to Lonnie revealed that 3 or 4 had now become 5, and so our destination became the Meriden Square Mall, but on the way through, we decided to stop in at the porn store. Yeah, I said it. Problem... the porn store was closed for 5 while the employee took a break. Next door for 2 failed scratch tickets, and... oddly... a porn mag, then back to the porn store. Surprisingly, we did better in the market next door, and we left the store empty handed.
Since Westfield bought all the malls in Connecticut it seems, effectively the Meriden Square Mall is the same as any other mall in this state, only laid out differently. A bathroom break, 2 gumballs, and a pair of jeans for Molly later, it's time to head to Lonnie's. There, we are greeted with the sight of the truck I should have been moving with, a van with a 12' box on the back. Tiny, efficient, appropriate for a small apartment move. (Mine was 53' long.) We emptied it in 30 minutes.
I've missed Arby's living in Branford, and since Southington has one, that is where we had our evening meal. It was uneventful on its own, although the site of Molly and I laughing and joking and having a good time in the food line seemed to upset the locals. The gene pool is little more than a puddle out there it seems.
The drive home brought us by Ocean State Job Lot, and a clothing store called pay/half. Cheap shopping seemed to be the mode of the day. Pay/half was a bust, but at Job Lot, Molly happened upon a 1:16 scale model of the Volkswagen W12 Nardo. No, no one actually knows what that car is... I'll have to blog it later. Saturday ended with a DVD's on the couch... no, I said we didn't buy anything at the porn store... The Poseidon Adventure. Irvin Allen's classic, and the perfect follow-up to the week before's Towering Inferno. Stonebridge was ruled out, and we ended the day in a lazy fashion.
Sunday arrived as it usually does, and the late morning suggested coffee. Off we went to Dunkin' Donuts. Walked in, and got in line, until... Molly realized that it was a planless Sunday, and our relaxing coffee pause was better served at Common Grounds, where not only is the coffee better, but one can sit at a table on the sidewalk, and enjoy a cigarette as well. Before leaving, however, Molly managed to find two aging nerds in Dunkin' Donuts, and through them join the Branford Chess Club.
In order to have a coffee and cigarette, we must first stop for cigarettes. Enter Branford Book & Card. There's a line, so I decided to explore the international news section while waiting. Somehow we end up with 2 packs of Marb Lights, and another porn mag.
Coffees, smokes, a croissant, and a raspberry crumb cake, reading porn in downtown Branford. What does this suggest? Of course. A trip to Old Glory.
Old Glory is a head shop. There are 5 or six of them in the state, and I believe more in other states. No, neither Molly nor I partake in the stickiest of the icky, but Old Glory is great place to pick up t-shirts, wallets, and our personal goal, belt buckles.
A stoned clerk helped us acquire a Metallica "Whiskey in the Jar" tee, a Sex Pistols "God Save the Queen" tee, and a belt buckle, limited edition made in 1979, of a small aircraft gauge pod. It's sweet. If you don't understand what it is from that description, don't feel bad, neither did Eddie.
Yes, Eddie. Recently back from parts unknown... the Midwest... Eddie had invited us to lunch. Archie Moore's. Fairly New Haven famous. Good food, drink; I had a Swithwick's and something called the "Pulled Pig" sandwich. Pork barbecue is always good by me. The promise of karaoke later turns out to be a pass, but that's fine by everyone involved, and the late afternoon rolls off into an evening defined by Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
I think that's it. Just a weekend off, nothing much to do, no plans to speak of. Just a little down time.
17 August 2006
I don't drink Bud Light, but...
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: amused
Category: Blogging
they were nice enough to write this radio spot, especially for me.
So, without further ado...
Real Men Of Genius....
Today we salute you, Mr. hair gel over geller
Mr. hair gel over geller
Less ambitious men stop at 2-in-1 shampoo but you put in countless hours, tireless dedication and a 5-gallon drum of industiral adhesive.
Sticky goooooooop!
Like a laquered hedgehog or oily porcupine, what woman wouldn't want to run her fingers through your razor-sharp stalagmites of hair?
Or is it stalagtites?
Wind, water, stray bullets, even repeated hammer blows...
Nothing can muss your immovable mane.
I've got a hair helmet!!
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light oh Master of The Mousse and while you're at it, crack open another buck of goop.
Mr. hair gel over geller
Yeah, that really is all about me. :)
Currently listening :
Original Bud Light Real Men of Genius 3 CD Set!
By Bud Light
Release date: 01 January, 2010
Current mood: amused
Category: Blogging
they were nice enough to write this radio spot, especially for me.
So, without further ado...
Real Men Of Genius....
Today we salute you, Mr. hair gel over geller
Mr. hair gel over geller
Less ambitious men stop at 2-in-1 shampoo but you put in countless hours, tireless dedication and a 5-gallon drum of industiral adhesive.
Sticky goooooooop!
Like a laquered hedgehog or oily porcupine, what woman wouldn't want to run her fingers through your razor-sharp stalagmites of hair?
Or is it stalagtites?
Wind, water, stray bullets, even repeated hammer blows...
Nothing can muss your immovable mane.
I've got a hair helmet!!
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light oh Master of The Mousse and while you're at it, crack open another buck of goop.
Mr. hair gel over geller
Yeah, that really is all about me. :)
Currently listening :
Original Bud Light Real Men of Genius 3 CD Set!
By Bud Light
Release date: 01 January, 2010
13 August 2006
Seeing Eye Molly
Archived MySpace Blog
Category: Life
Everyone should have one.
OK, everyone with a visual impairment. Dogs are OK, but... well, they're dogs. The Seeing Eye Molly is the way of the future.
My personal visual impairment is temporary. I have an ulcerated cornea. Bacteria trapped under my contact lens caused injury to my right eye during the odd occurrence that I fell asleep in my contacts Wednesday night. Thursday I woke up in quite a bit of pain, and that morning I made an emergency appointment with my eye doctor to receive the above diagnosis.
So, for the past 4 days, I have had limited vision in my right eye, and intense photosensitivity. I utilize 2 prescription eye drops, which as I put it to my roommate, "one that stings and one that burns". So, I have about 50 percent vision in my right eye, and light causes me intense pain... beyond the regular pain I'm already in, as well as the pain caused by the drops. Basically put, I'm in pain. So, driving has not really been in my daily routine. People have been nice enough to bring me home from work, ad Molly has be bringing me in... and otherwise driving me around.
So, here I've been, right eye afoul, occasionally watching movies with the aid of a Pirate type eye-patch, and otherwise leading a limited life. (I've gotten more laundry done this weekend the I've ever done before.)
But I have ventured outside these four walls... I've had to. For any of you who know me, stir crazy sets in quickly and hard. So, out into town we've rolled, blind, half-blind, glasses, sunglasses, eye patch, baseball cap, eyes simply closed by the sun. Even now I'm typing with one eye closed... depth perception not so important in blogs.
It's been quite a trip... follow-up eye appointment, hair-cut for Molly, Lackluster Video, CVS, even Wal*Mart (I'm blind, and she wouldn't tell me where we were going)... just the blind, trusting passenger, walking to stores, one hand on the back of the belt...
of my Seeing Eye Molly.
Category: Life
Everyone should have one.
OK, everyone with a visual impairment. Dogs are OK, but... well, they're dogs. The Seeing Eye Molly is the way of the future.
My personal visual impairment is temporary. I have an ulcerated cornea. Bacteria trapped under my contact lens caused injury to my right eye during the odd occurrence that I fell asleep in my contacts Wednesday night. Thursday I woke up in quite a bit of pain, and that morning I made an emergency appointment with my eye doctor to receive the above diagnosis.
So, for the past 4 days, I have had limited vision in my right eye, and intense photosensitivity. I utilize 2 prescription eye drops, which as I put it to my roommate, "one that stings and one that burns". So, I have about 50 percent vision in my right eye, and light causes me intense pain... beyond the regular pain I'm already in, as well as the pain caused by the drops. Basically put, I'm in pain. So, driving has not really been in my daily routine. People have been nice enough to bring me home from work, ad Molly has be bringing me in... and otherwise driving me around.
So, here I've been, right eye afoul, occasionally watching movies with the aid of a Pirate type eye-patch, and otherwise leading a limited life. (I've gotten more laundry done this weekend the I've ever done before.)
But I have ventured outside these four walls... I've had to. For any of you who know me, stir crazy sets in quickly and hard. So, out into town we've rolled, blind, half-blind, glasses, sunglasses, eye patch, baseball cap, eyes simply closed by the sun. Even now I'm typing with one eye closed... depth perception not so important in blogs.
It's been quite a trip... follow-up eye appointment, hair-cut for Molly, Lackluster Video, CVS, even Wal*Mart (I'm blind, and she wouldn't tell me where we were going)... just the blind, trusting passenger, walking to stores, one hand on the back of the belt...
of my Seeing Eye Molly.
09 August 2006
Til Death Do Us Part
Archived MySpace Blog
Category: Life
This is about something that's been weighing on my mind... probably more than I wanted to admit.
Maybe it doesn't matter to anyone else. Maybe no one else cares. To some, it's just not their business. To some, maybe they don't put as much stake in those words as others. It seems everyone has their own reason not to care.
But I still care. I spoke those words, and it bothers me.
But yesterday, I was thinking about it, thinking about those words I spoke, and the pledge I made, and I came to a realization.
I realized that those words don't have to be untrue.
You are still in my life. You always will be. If you ever need me, I'll be there. If I ever need you, I know I have you to turn to. Nothing can change the fact that you'll always be one of my most precious friends, and nothing will. No matter what, through thick and thin... in marriage or without...
Till Death Do Us Part.
Category: Life
This is about something that's been weighing on my mind... probably more than I wanted to admit.
Maybe it doesn't matter to anyone else. Maybe no one else cares. To some, it's just not their business. To some, maybe they don't put as much stake in those words as others. It seems everyone has their own reason not to care.
But I still care. I spoke those words, and it bothers me.
But yesterday, I was thinking about it, thinking about those words I spoke, and the pledge I made, and I came to a realization.
I realized that those words don't have to be untrue.
You are still in my life. You always will be. If you ever need me, I'll be there. If I ever need you, I know I have you to turn to. Nothing can change the fact that you'll always be one of my most precious friends, and nothing will. No matter what, through thick and thin... in marriage or without...
Till Death Do Us Part.
08 August 2006
Day Tripper
Archived MySpace blog
Got a good reason for taking the easy way out
Got a good reason for taking the easy way out now
She was a day tripper, one way ticket yeah
It took me so long to find out, I found out
She's a big teaser, she took me half the way there
She's a big teaser, she took me half the way there now
She was a day tripper, one way ticket yeah
It took me so long to find out, I found out
Tried to please her, she only played one night stands
Tried to please her, she only played one night stands now
She was a day tripper, Sunday driver yeah
It took me so long to find out, I found out
Day tripper
Day tripper yeah
Day tripper
Day tripper yeah...
OK, these lyrics have absolutely nothing to do with anything except that they reference daytripping and Sunday... and that it's a pretty good Beatles tune.
So, as may be gathered, Sunday we took a daytrip, out to Newport. I've always liked Newport, as had Molly, and I hadn't been in some time. So, on a whim that was cast Saturday afternoon, on Sunday morning we hit the road, 95 East.
A little traffic around New London, a nice old Packard in the next lane, a couple angry lesbians trying to run a casino bus off the road, but otherwise a smooth sail. Got to Wyoming... yeah, that's in RI, and discovered a Tim Horton's. Mmm... Ice Coffee and TimBits. Definitely a good omen.
Ice Coffee in the cup holder, we arrive in Newport. The weather is beautiful. The town is beautiful. What more can we want? A bit of shopping, some skee-ball, a delicious lunch, a but more window shopping, a donut scented air freshener which reads "Police are my favorite people", what more can one want?
To go back and do it all again.
Or maybe a new location next weekend.
Day tripper yeah
Got a good reason for taking the easy way out
Got a good reason for taking the easy way out now
She was a day tripper, one way ticket yeah
It took me so long to find out, I found out
She's a big teaser, she took me half the way there
She's a big teaser, she took me half the way there now
She was a day tripper, one way ticket yeah
It took me so long to find out, I found out
Tried to please her, she only played one night stands
Tried to please her, she only played one night stands now
She was a day tripper, Sunday driver yeah
It took me so long to find out, I found out
Day tripper
Day tripper yeah
Day tripper
Day tripper yeah...
OK, these lyrics have absolutely nothing to do with anything except that they reference daytripping and Sunday... and that it's a pretty good Beatles tune.
So, as may be gathered, Sunday we took a daytrip, out to Newport. I've always liked Newport, as had Molly, and I hadn't been in some time. So, on a whim that was cast Saturday afternoon, on Sunday morning we hit the road, 95 East.
A little traffic around New London, a nice old Packard in the next lane, a couple angry lesbians trying to run a casino bus off the road, but otherwise a smooth sail. Got to Wyoming... yeah, that's in RI, and discovered a Tim Horton's. Mmm... Ice Coffee and TimBits. Definitely a good omen.
Ice Coffee in the cup holder, we arrive in Newport. The weather is beautiful. The town is beautiful. What more can we want? A bit of shopping, some skee-ball, a delicious lunch, a but more window shopping, a donut scented air freshener which reads "Police are my favorite people", what more can one want?
To go back and do it all again.
Or maybe a new location next weekend.
Day tripper yeah
02 August 2006
What the crumb is the Heat Index?!?
Archived MySpace blog
Whatever it is... it's 115.
115?!? I'm assuming that's degrees Fahrenheit.
A little research tells me the Heat Index similar to a Wind Chill Factor, except it relates to humidity instead of wind.
So... its 100 degrees here... not precisely typical for New England in the first week of August. Global warming anyone? And the Heat Index is 115... or as your friendly weatherman (Weatherperson? Blackuweather Meteorologist for all you Family Guy fans) would tell you, it "feels like 115".
Translation, 100 degrees, with a dew point of 75 degrees, makes it humid enough that those 100 degrees are as oppressive as 115 degrees of nice Arizona dry heat.
Or... to put it really simply...
It's hot, sticky, and gross here!
Whatever it is... it's 115.
115?!? I'm assuming that's degrees Fahrenheit.
A little research tells me the Heat Index similar to a Wind Chill Factor, except it relates to humidity instead of wind.
So... its 100 degrees here... not precisely typical for New England in the first week of August. Global warming anyone? And the Heat Index is 115... or as your friendly weatherman (Weatherperson? Blackuweather Meteorologist for all you Family Guy fans) would tell you, it "feels like 115".
Translation, 100 degrees, with a dew point of 75 degrees, makes it humid enough that those 100 degrees are as oppressive as 115 degrees of nice Arizona dry heat.
Or... to put it really simply...
It's hot, sticky, and gross here!
An observation
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: amused
Category: Blogging
Another of those things you can only see at the Court...
Outfit for the day: Short shorts, sleeveless t-shirt, Adidas shell-toes, and one black sock.
Why one black sock? Because in her infinite genius, our friend thought that a black sock was the best way to obscure the house-arrest electronic monitoring ankle bracelet.
Obviously, it doesn't. Now not only is it obvious to everyone that she's on house arrest, but she looks like a fashion victim, too. Then again, short-shorts?!? Yeah, she's probably quite the fashion victim when she's not under house arrest.
Such is my observation for the day.
Current mood: amused
Category: Blogging
Another of those things you can only see at the Court...
Outfit for the day: Short shorts, sleeveless t-shirt, Adidas shell-toes, and one black sock.
Why one black sock? Because in her infinite genius, our friend thought that a black sock was the best way to obscure the house-arrest electronic monitoring ankle bracelet.
Obviously, it doesn't. Now not only is it obvious to everyone that she's on house arrest, but she looks like a fashion victim, too. Then again, short-shorts?!? Yeah, she's probably quite the fashion victim when she's not under house arrest.
Such is my observation for the day.
17 July 2006
Hot Cars in Hotter Weather
or
How Waterfest 2006 Almost Wasn't
Archived MySpace blog
Category: Automotive
On Saturday, July 15, Molly and I went here:
Unfortunately, the rest of this post is now lost in cyberspace. It's a real shame, too; this was one of my favourite blogs. For simple continuity, I leave this scrap here.
How Waterfest 2006 Almost Wasn't
Archived MySpace blog
Category: Automotive
On Saturday, July 15, Molly and I went here:
Unfortunately, the rest of this post is now lost in cyberspace. It's a real shame, too; this was one of my favourite blogs. For simple continuity, I leave this scrap here.
03 April 2006
Tagged... again
This is, once again, the tag game.
Since JL tagged me, I will now write 6 more weird/strange habits/things about myself.
I think I'll continue the trend of earlier -- and since most people find those items the strangest, anyway -- we will do this entirely about my eating habits.
1. I don't eat meat off the bones. That means no wings, no ribs, no fried chicken. I'll eat just about anything boneless, though.
2. Mac and Cheese... Kraft Dinner (or its generic friends). I don't do the Velveta with the cheese goo. And I don't do baked... or even the stuff from HoJo's that everybody raves about. Just the stuff with the good old powdered orange cheese.
3. Miracle Whip. I think I may be the only person on the planet who actually prefers it to mayo. I just think it might be the egg thing (see earlier Tagged blog). Who knows? I'll eat my tuna made with mayo... but I prefer Miracle Whip, and won't put mayo on just a regular sandwich at all.
4. I only like the vegetables that little kids hate. Broccolli, Brussels Sprouts, Spinach. Mmm... But, I don't like lettuce and tomato.
5. I rarely eat cooked seafood... but I love Sashimi. Give me a plate of raw fish any day of the week... but only on the rarest of occasions do I have any sort of cooked seafood, and even then its limited to lobster, calamari, and really good British style Fish & Chips. On a related note... not worthy of its own line... Sashimi yes, Sushi no. I love the raw fish... but leave out the rice and other crap that makes it more palatable to others.
6. OK, this isn't weird, just ethnic... but I never met a potatoe I didn't like. Mmm.. spuds. Mash 'em, bake 'em, boil 'em, croquettes, fries, JoJos, hash browns, julienned, whatever. I love potatoes (and yes, Dan Quayle, there is an "e" in that word!)
Since this is my second time through, I will tag nobody. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Since JL tagged me, I will now write 6 more weird/strange habits/things about myself.
I think I'll continue the trend of earlier -- and since most people find those items the strangest, anyway -- we will do this entirely about my eating habits.
1. I don't eat meat off the bones. That means no wings, no ribs, no fried chicken. I'll eat just about anything boneless, though.
2. Mac and Cheese... Kraft Dinner (or its generic friends). I don't do the Velveta with the cheese goo. And I don't do baked... or even the stuff from HoJo's that everybody raves about. Just the stuff with the good old powdered orange cheese.
3. Miracle Whip. I think I may be the only person on the planet who actually prefers it to mayo. I just think it might be the egg thing (see earlier Tagged blog). Who knows? I'll eat my tuna made with mayo... but I prefer Miracle Whip, and won't put mayo on just a regular sandwich at all.
4. I only like the vegetables that little kids hate. Broccolli, Brussels Sprouts, Spinach. Mmm... But, I don't like lettuce and tomato.
5. I rarely eat cooked seafood... but I love Sashimi. Give me a plate of raw fish any day of the week... but only on the rarest of occasions do I have any sort of cooked seafood, and even then its limited to lobster, calamari, and really good British style Fish & Chips. On a related note... not worthy of its own line... Sashimi yes, Sushi no. I love the raw fish... but leave out the rice and other crap that makes it more palatable to others.
6. OK, this isn't weird, just ethnic... but I never met a potatoe I didn't like. Mmm.. spuds. Mash 'em, bake 'em, boil 'em, croquettes, fries, JoJos, hash browns, julienned, whatever. I love potatoes (and yes, Dan Quayle, there is an "e" in that word!)
Since this is my second time through, I will tag nobody. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
05 March 2006
My Blog homework is late... what else is new?
Archived MySpace blog
Category: Blogging
Tag...YOU'RE it!!
So..the rules are, once you've been tagged, you have to write a blog with "Six Weird Things/Habits" about yourself. In the end, you need to choose the 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "You Are Tagged!" in their comments...and tell them to read yours.
Don't just leave a comment here... start a whole new blog on your page! :)
1. I'm utterly obsessed with my Canadian citizenship. It's disturbing, actually. I've gotten to the point that I can only eat Canadian peanut butter, and I prefer all these odd things simply because they're Canadian or from Canada. Yet... I was born and raised in Milford, Connecticut.
2. I don't eat eggs. No real reason. I just don't. I find them disgusting and they make me sick. I eat plenty of things made with eggs, though. No issues there. But if I even smell and egg cooking... scrambled, fried, poached, omelet, quiche... I'll gag.
3. I spell things... or at least some things... the British English way. Neighbour, colour, tyre, etc. I went to school in the U.S. Even had a fight with a teacher over a spelling test because of it. I guess... see also No. 1.
4. I can't listen to music I like with out tapping out the drum part or pluckin' the bass-line. I've tried. Unless I'm actually dancing, I can't sit still through music. Hell, even when I'm dancing I have to really try not to tap out the rhythm section.
5. I'm mental about my hair. Everybody knows it. Strangers can tell just by looking at me. I obsess over it. If its not perfect, I wear a hat. Don't take my hat off if I'm wearing one... the hair underneath is less than perfect. And don't touch it. Seriously. Don't touch my hair. Unless I'm in for the night... no one can mess it up.
6. When I get in the mode, I will eat the same Tuna on a grinder with American cheese, salt & pepper 5 days a week for lunch. Sometimes for dinner, too. Just American cheese, salt & pepper. No change. No variance. 5 days straight. For weeks. Sometimes just Tuna with salt & pepper right out of the bowl I mix it in. I can never get tired of it. And I feel really good when I eat it. Protein and Omega-3 Fatty Acids I guess. Mmmm... maybe I'll go have tuna right now.
Okay...now I'm tagging:
Lonnie
Jenn
Marie
Carly
Joey
Frânk
Chuck
Yeah... I tagged an extra. Sue me.
Category: Blogging
Tag...YOU'RE it!!
So..the rules are, once you've been tagged, you have to write a blog with "Six Weird Things/Habits" about yourself. In the end, you need to choose the 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "You Are Tagged!" in their comments...and tell them to read yours.
Don't just leave a comment here... start a whole new blog on your page! :)
1. I'm utterly obsessed with my Canadian citizenship. It's disturbing, actually. I've gotten to the point that I can only eat Canadian peanut butter, and I prefer all these odd things simply because they're Canadian or from Canada. Yet... I was born and raised in Milford, Connecticut.
2. I don't eat eggs. No real reason. I just don't. I find them disgusting and they make me sick. I eat plenty of things made with eggs, though. No issues there. But if I even smell and egg cooking... scrambled, fried, poached, omelet, quiche... I'll gag.
3. I spell things... or at least some things... the British English way. Neighbour, colour, tyre, etc. I went to school in the U.S. Even had a fight with a teacher over a spelling test because of it. I guess... see also No. 1.
4. I can't listen to music I like with out tapping out the drum part or pluckin' the bass-line. I've tried. Unless I'm actually dancing, I can't sit still through music. Hell, even when I'm dancing I have to really try not to tap out the rhythm section.
5. I'm mental about my hair. Everybody knows it. Strangers can tell just by looking at me. I obsess over it. If its not perfect, I wear a hat. Don't take my hat off if I'm wearing one... the hair underneath is less than perfect. And don't touch it. Seriously. Don't touch my hair. Unless I'm in for the night... no one can mess it up.
6. When I get in the mode, I will eat the same Tuna on a grinder with American cheese, salt & pepper 5 days a week for lunch. Sometimes for dinner, too. Just American cheese, salt & pepper. No change. No variance. 5 days straight. For weeks. Sometimes just Tuna with salt & pepper right out of the bowl I mix it in. I can never get tired of it. And I feel really good when I eat it. Protein and Omega-3 Fatty Acids I guess. Mmmm... maybe I'll go have tuna right now.
Okay...now I'm tagging:
Lonnie
Jenn
Marie
Carly
Joey
Frânk
Chuck
Yeah... I tagged an extra. Sue me.
27 February 2006
Ye Olde Watering Hole
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: reminded
Category: reminded Blogging
There is a flagpole, here in the fair Elm City, in the middle of the Green, and on it is a memorial -- I believe -- to World War II... specifically -- if I'm not mistaken... to the D-Day invasion. It bears the name Verdun, among other French town names. I could be wrong. The point is not this anyway.
As a celebration of the millennium -- OK, the common numerical millennium, not the true one which began 1 January 2001 -- it was decided there would be a fountain erected around said flagpole. And so, by the early Summer of 2000, our lovely downtown flagpole was surrounded by some variety of active moat, which, I imagine, hinders the person in charge of raising and lowering said flag.
But raising and lowering aside, the real curiosity of the fountain was discovered that July.
It seems, that in the scenic downtown Elm City, that fountains are not just for admiring. Our Millennium Fountain had become a children's swimming hole. Cute, I guess, until you actually see the shoeless unwashed masses, diapered and dirty, splashing about, and loading their pockets with the pennies, nickels, and dimes thrown in by other locals, who -- one would have to guess -- mistook the Millennium Fountain for a wishing well.
No matter. Kids will be kids. And since there had been no procedure put in place to collect the coins, I guess they can have them.
Well, except for one thing...
In the hot summer days children splash merrily in the Millennium Fountain - Wishing Well - Downtown Public Pool, but after dark the fountain has different purpose.
For, in the light of the moon, our lovely fountain has now become the Downtown Homeless Bathhouse. Yes indeed. The homeless population of the fair Elm City, of which there are many, have declared this permanent water fixture as their very own public bath tub. Although the unwashed diapered children prefer the comfort of their own much, it seems the indigent prefer to get in a good scrubbing before they retire to their park benches on a warm summer night.
Enter bureaucracy.
ElmCity Ordinance 00-481: It is unlawful to bathe in the Millennium Fountain, per order of the City.
On six 4' x 3' sandwich-board signs ringing the perimeter of the fountain.
Beauty interrupted by legislation.
But hey, no swimming, right?
One would think, but one would be wrong.
And now, five and one-half years later, the sandwich boards, long since removed, have been replaced with these markers.
"PLEASE DO NOT ENTER THE FOUNTAIN"
Somehow I think that those who would bathe in the fountain would pay no mind to these warnings.
But they do look nice.
Current mood: reminded
Category: reminded Blogging
There is a flagpole, here in the fair Elm City, in the middle of the Green, and on it is a memorial -- I believe -- to World War II... specifically -- if I'm not mistaken... to the D-Day invasion. It bears the name Verdun, among other French town names. I could be wrong. The point is not this anyway.
As a celebration of the millennium -- OK, the common numerical millennium, not the true one which began 1 January 2001 -- it was decided there would be a fountain erected around said flagpole. And so, by the early Summer of 2000, our lovely downtown flagpole was surrounded by some variety of active moat, which, I imagine, hinders the person in charge of raising and lowering said flag.
But raising and lowering aside, the real curiosity of the fountain was discovered that July.
It seems, that in the scenic downtown Elm City, that fountains are not just for admiring. Our Millennium Fountain had become a children's swimming hole. Cute, I guess, until you actually see the shoeless unwashed masses, diapered and dirty, splashing about, and loading their pockets with the pennies, nickels, and dimes thrown in by other locals, who -- one would have to guess -- mistook the Millennium Fountain for a wishing well.
No matter. Kids will be kids. And since there had been no procedure put in place to collect the coins, I guess they can have them.
Well, except for one thing...
In the hot summer days children splash merrily in the Millennium Fountain - Wishing Well - Downtown Public Pool, but after dark the fountain has different purpose.
For, in the light of the moon, our lovely fountain has now become the Downtown Homeless Bathhouse. Yes indeed. The homeless population of the fair Elm City, of which there are many, have declared this permanent water fixture as their very own public bath tub. Although the unwashed diapered children prefer the comfort of their own much, it seems the indigent prefer to get in a good scrubbing before they retire to their park benches on a warm summer night.
Enter bureaucracy.
ElmCity Ordinance 00-481: It is unlawful to bathe in the Millennium Fountain, per order of the City.
On six 4' x 3' sandwich-board signs ringing the perimeter of the fountain.
Beauty interrupted by legislation.
But hey, no swimming, right?
One would think, but one would be wrong.
And now, five and one-half years later, the sandwich boards, long since removed, have been replaced with these markers.
"PLEASE DO NOT ENTER THE FOUNTAIN"
Somehow I think that those who would bathe in the fountain would pay no mind to these warnings.
But they do look nice.
14 February 2006
Oh yeah... I love this day
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: apathetic
Category: Romance and Relationships
Valentine's Day... and we arraign the wife beaters from the weekend past.
But today they come in together, arm-in-arm.
Even the Judicial system isn't free from the hypocrisy of the damned holiday.
They beat each other. Kicking, shoving, slapping; 5 and 6 times before this one... that their records even show. More than likely, its 3 times a week.
On Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and even Monday, they hated each other... enough to swing, enough to throw dishes... in front of the children... and the foster children... and their children from other daddies... enough even to call the cops. To scream, and yell, and threaten.
And today they file in... bruises hidden behind bad make-up, misplaced scarves... band-aids cover skin broken by knuckles... arm-in-fucking-arm, because today their in love. Today its Valentine's Day, the day that past transgressions against love or forgiven in favour of discount shop cards, over-priced chocolates, or maybe -- just maybe -- a rose from the guy with a van on the Boulevard.
Today their hypocrisy knows no bounds.
Or am I wrong?
Is today truly about forgiving the year because somebody shelled out the big bucks on Russell Stovers?
I don't know.
Answer that one after I hit you on the head with a frying pan.
Current mood: apathetic
Category: Romance and Relationships
Valentine's Day... and we arraign the wife beaters from the weekend past.
But today they come in together, arm-in-arm.
Even the Judicial system isn't free from the hypocrisy of the damned holiday.
They beat each other. Kicking, shoving, slapping; 5 and 6 times before this one... that their records even show. More than likely, its 3 times a week.
On Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and even Monday, they hated each other... enough to swing, enough to throw dishes... in front of the children... and the foster children... and their children from other daddies... enough even to call the cops. To scream, and yell, and threaten.
And today they file in... bruises hidden behind bad make-up, misplaced scarves... band-aids cover skin broken by knuckles... arm-in-fucking-arm, because today their in love. Today its Valentine's Day, the day that past transgressions against love or forgiven in favour of discount shop cards, over-priced chocolates, or maybe -- just maybe -- a rose from the guy with a van on the Boulevard.
Today their hypocrisy knows no bounds.
Or am I wrong?
Is today truly about forgiving the year because somebody shelled out the big bucks on Russell Stovers?
I don't know.
Answer that one after I hit you on the head with a frying pan.
06 February 2006
What's in a name?
Archived MySpace blog
Category: Blogging
I believe I need to start a new Government agency.
Now normally, I'm not in favour of bureaucracy. Heck, I work for the Government, and know how little can actually be done. But, in this case, I think its necessary
I propose the Bureau of Baby Naming.
I believe that there need to be officials in charge of reviewing baby names, at the hospital, before they are allowed to go on Birth Certificates. Allow me to explain.
Mr. & Mrs. Pope needed to be told that they should not be allowed to name their son John.
Mr. & Mrs. Lockman should have been informed that the amusement of naming their daughter Pandora gets old quick.
Mr. & Mrs. Jones should have been made aware that naming their son SirLawrence would not make him noble.
The same should have been said to Mr. & Mrs. James of their son King.
Mr. & Mrs. Outlaw should have just been told to change their last name before all 5 of their sons ended up in jail.
Mr. & Mrs. Barry... now these were an interesting pair. 3 daughters, LaAustralia, LaAsia, and LaKeebler. I just don't know what to say but "no".
More to come in the coming days.
Category: Blogging
I believe I need to start a new Government agency.
Now normally, I'm not in favour of bureaucracy. Heck, I work for the Government, and know how little can actually be done. But, in this case, I think its necessary
I propose the Bureau of Baby Naming.
I believe that there need to be officials in charge of reviewing baby names, at the hospital, before they are allowed to go on Birth Certificates. Allow me to explain.
Mr. & Mrs. Pope needed to be told that they should not be allowed to name their son John.
Mr. & Mrs. Lockman should have been informed that the amusement of naming their daughter Pandora gets old quick.
Mr. & Mrs. Jones should have been made aware that naming their son SirLawrence would not make him noble.
The same should have been said to Mr. & Mrs. James of their son King.
Mr. & Mrs. Outlaw should have just been told to change their last name before all 5 of their sons ended up in jail.
Mr. & Mrs. Barry... now these were an interesting pair. 3 daughters, LaAustralia, LaAsia, and LaKeebler. I just don't know what to say but "no".
More to come in the coming days.
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