Monday, August 30, 2004

Twitterpated

Late August, 2004

So there we were, eating Ethiopian food, when all of a sudden TinyTuna said....



Wait. Rewind.

Early August, 2004

So the entire family was out at BSTuna's House and petting zoo. I took my usual spot with a comb, a ziplock bag, a pee towel and the hairiest bunny I could find. It was a fabulous afternoon of combing, petting and plucking.



No. Set the way-back machine to

March, 2004

The day we found and subsequently adopted Fabio the Fahhhbulous French Angora Rabbit at the bunny show, BSTuna had also brought one of her bucks "Bumper" to have a date with a little girl bunny. We finally found the owner of the doe and decided it was a good time to play matchmaker. TinyTuna asked if she could come along.



Well, what was I supposed to say, No?



All of us set off for the parking lot. We got Bumper and then headed for the Love Shack. It wasn't exactly a 4-star hotel, but the Bumpster didn't mind. BSTuna opened the door for his mystery date and WOAH NELLIE! Bumper was Barry White, Don Juan and The Marquis de Sade all rolled into one. The female, however, was less than thrilled about the entire setup.



We watched the events for awhile, and then TinyTuna asked in a loud voice, "Why is he playing piggy-back?"







It was one of those film moments that would have included a slo-mo zoom to a horrified "Home Alone" face. Nobody said anything. I looked at TinyTuna. I looked at BSTuna. She turned and looked at the doe's owner. Who looked back at BSTuna, who looked at me.



AND THEN THEY ALL LAUGHED.



I couldn't believe it. Here was BSTuna, a zoo docent who talks about all things animals ALL THE TIME. And the other woman was a farmer. Me? I'm Prissy yelling, "I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies!!" Nobody helped. Nobody offered up any neat, succinct explanations, and here we were, about to go down a very long and confused path without benefit of breadcrumbs. I wanted to hurt every single one of them.



The trick in these situations is to provide an adequate and obviously truthful explanation without confusing the issue or providing WAY more information than they ever wanted to know. It's like that old "Where Did I Come From?" joke. I needed a bunny answer along the lines of "Philadelphia."



So, without benefit of any previous similar chats, I said, "Well...you know to make babies you need a boy and a girl, right?"



"Right," said TinyTuna.



"OK," I said. "So for Bumper to be a Daddy bunny, he, uh... needs to put his fluids in the female rabbit and...."



"And that's why they are playing piggyback?" TinyTuna asked.



"Well," I said, searching for an answer that combined the no-nonsense wisdom of Dr. Ruth, the sensitivity of Oprah, the gentleness of Mr. Rogers and the presentation of Iron Chef Sakai, "The female rabbit has to be laying in a certain way for the fluids to get inside and then...."



"Oh. I get it," said TinyTuna.



(Thank Goodness)



"Fluids??" BSTuna smirked.



"Shut up," I hissed. "It's close enough."



Unfortunately, when push came to shove (Ba-DUMP-bump!) the doe was just not feeling the love. While Bumper believed in equal opportunity for all orifices -- functioning or not -- she spent the entire time squirming, and running away. He was "Rubberband Man." She was "Hit the Road Jack." Net result? Zero babies.



Now. Fast Forward



Early August, 2004

Anytime the Tuna clan assembles at Casa del BSTuna, I tend to spend some time plucking the hairiest bunnies in the bunch. With six not-so-tiny babies, there were now 4 adults and 6 youngsters to choose from. First I went for the light caramel baby bunny that I have nicknamed "Farrah." Next up was the dark charcoal bun. They all started as enormous hopping furballs, but by the time I was through with them, they were nothing more than tiny dust bunnies. Plucking doesn't hurt them, and when I was finished, they were a great deal cooler. Of course, by the end of the day I was covered in angora fluff, but it was yummy. Tactile overload.



That night after we got home, I let TinyTuna off the hook and told her I'd do the evening bunny chores. She trudged off to bed and I went down to feed Fabio the Fahhbulous. While I was petting him, he started to make this bizarre grunting noise, and the next thing you know, well...he's being a horndog. I figured I was covered in bunny smells, so I took a long shower.



The next morning, same thing. The next night, same thing. Once TinyTuna saw the events and asked me what was going on. "I think he loves my arm," I said as I laughed.



Now. Back to the Beginning.



Late August, 2004

So there we were -- Me, TinyTuna, GramTuna and SticksTuna -- eating out on a Saturday night at an Ethiopian restaurant, listening to a fiddler and guitar player perform, "Sweet Home Alabama." Yes, it was a stretch, ethnically speaking. Now, SticksTuna is a woman of the cloth. A minister. A very cool, young, hip minister, but a minister, all the same. As the four of us were elbow deep in beans, lamb, rice and Ethiopian flat bread, SticksTuna asked TinyTuna how Fabio was doing.



"Oh, he's great!" Said TinyTuna enthusiastically. "The only problem is, he's in love with mom and he's always trying to put his fluid in her arm!!!"



SticksTuna's eyes got enormous, she snorted lima beans and then got up and walked out the door, closely followed by TinyTuna. GramTuna busted a gut, and I just started shaking my head and hiding my face in my hands. As the Saturday night entertainment made its way through another chorus of that Ethiopian classic, "You Can't Always Get What You Want", all I could hear was SticksTuna erupting into enormous bursts of laughter outside while TinyTuna kept asking, "What?? What???"



Somehow, the Rolling Stones made perfect sense.



You can’'t always get what you want

You can'’t always get what you want


You can’'t always get what you want

But if you try sometimes you just might find


You just might find


You get what you need


---Rolling Stones





Twitterpated

Late August, 2004
So there we were, eating Ethiopian food, when all of a sudden TinyTuna said....

Wait. Rewind.
Early August, 2004
So the entire family was out at BSTuna's House and petting zoo. I took my usual spot with a comb, a ziplock bag, a pee towel and the hairiest bunny I could find. It was a fabulous afternoon of combing, petting and plucking.

No. Set the way-back machine to
March, 2004
The day we found and subsequently adopted Fabio the Fahhhbulous French Angora Rabbit at the bunny show, BSTuna had also brought one of her bucks "Bumper" to have a date with a little girl bunny. We finally found the owner of the doe and decided it was a good time to play matchmaker. TinyTuna asked if she could come along.

Well, what was I supposed to say, No?

All of us set off for the parking lot. We got Bumper and then headed for the Love Shack. It wasn't exactly a 4-star hotel, but the Bumpster didn't mind. BSTuna opened the door for his mystery date and WOAH NELLIE! Bumper was Barry White, Don Juan and The Marquis de Sade all rolled into one. The female, however, was less than thrilled about the entire setup.

We watched the events for awhile, and then TinyTuna asked in a loud voice, "Why is he playing piggy-back?"



It was one of those film moments that would have included a slo-mo zoom to a horrified "Home Alone" face. Nobody said anything. I looked at TinyTuna. I looked at BSTuna. She turned and looked at the doe's owner. Who looked back at BSTuna, who looked at me.

AND THEN THEY ALL LAUGHED.

I couldn't believe it. Here was BSTuna, a zoo docent who talks about all things animals ALL THE TIME. And the other woman was a farmer. Me? I'm Prissy yelling, "I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies!!" Nobody helped. Nobody offered up any neat, succinct explanations, and here we were, about to go down a very long and confused path without benefit of breadcrumbs. I wanted to hurt every single one of them.

The trick in these situations is to provide an adequate and obviously truthful explanation without confusing the issue or providing WAY more information than they ever wanted to know. It's like that old "Where Did I Come From?" joke. I needed a bunny answer along the lines of "Philadelphia."

So, without benefit of any previous similar chats, I said, "Well...you know to make babies you need a boy and a girl, right?"

"Right," said TinyTuna.

"OK," I said. "So for Bumper to be a Daddy bunny, he, uh... needs to put his fluids in the female rabbit and...."

"And that's why they are playing piggyback?" TinyTuna asked.

"Well," I said, searching for an answer that combined the no-nonsense wisdom of Dr. Ruth, the sensitivity of Oprah, the gentleness of Mr. Rogers and the presentation of Iron Chef Sakai, "The female rabbit has to be laying in a certain way for the fluids to get inside and then...."

"Oh. I get it," said TinyTuna.

(Thank Goodness)

"Fluids??" BSTuna smirked.

"Shut up," I hissed. "It's close enough."

Unfortunately, when push came to shove (Ba-DUMP-bump!) the doe was just not feeling the love. While Bumper believed in equal opportunity for all orifices -- functioning or not -- she spent the entire time squirming, and running away. He was "Rubberband Man." She was "Hit the Road Jack." Net result? Zero babies.

Now. Fast Forward

Early August, 2004
Anytime the Tuna clan assembles at Casa del BSTuna, I tend to spend some time plucking the hairiest bunnies in the bunch. With six not-so-tiny babies, there were now 4 adults and 6 youngsters to choose from. First I went for the light caramel baby bunny that I have nicknamed "Farrah." Next up was the dark charcoal bun. They all started as enormous hopping furballs, but by the time I was through with them, they were nothing more than tiny dust bunnies. Plucking doesn't hurt them, and when I was finished, they were a great deal cooler. Of course, by the end of the day I was covered in angora fluff, but it was yummy. Tactile overload.

That night after we got home, I let TinyTuna off the hook and told her I'd do the evening bunny chores. She trudged off to bed and I went down to feed Fabio the Fahhbulous. While I was petting him, he started to make this bizarre grunting noise, and the next thing you know, well...he's being a horndog. I figured I was covered in bunny smells, so I took a long shower.

The next morning, same thing. The next night, same thing. Once TinyTuna saw the events and asked me what was going on. "I think he loves my arm," I said as I laughed.

Now. Back to the Beginning.

Late August, 2004
So there we were -- Me, TinyTuna, GramTuna and SticksTuna -- eating out on a Saturday night at an Ethiopian restaurant, listening to a fiddler and guitar player perform, "Sweet Home Alabama." Yes, it was a stretch, ethnically speaking. Now, SticksTuna is a woman of the cloth. A minister. A very cool, young, hip minister, but a minister, all the same. As the four of us were elbow deep in beans, lamb, rice and Ethiopian flat bread, SticksTuna asked TinyTuna how Fabio was doing.

"Oh, he's great!" Said TinyTuna enthusiastically. "The only problem is, he's in love with mom and he's always trying to put his fluid in her arm!!!"

SticksTuna's eyes got enormous, she snorted lima beans and then got up and walked out the door, closely followed by TinyTuna. GramTuna busted a gut, and I just started shaking my head and hiding my face in my hands. As the Saturday night entertainment made its way through another chorus of that Ethiopian classic, "You Can't Always Get What You Want", all I could hear was SticksTuna erupting into enormous bursts of laughter outside while TinyTuna kept asking, "What?? What???"

Somehow, the Rolling Stones made perfect sense.

You can’'t always get what you want
You can'’t always get what you want

You can’'t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find

You just might find

You get what you need

---Rolling Stones


Friday, August 27, 2004

Hulkamania

I know I've mentioned this blog before, but Hulk's Diary continues to be among the funniest blogs on my list. My saying du jour?



PLAY NICE OR HULK TURN THE INTERNET AROUND AND DRIVE YOU HOME.



Hulkamania

I know I've mentioned this blog before, but Hulk's Diary continues to be among the funniest blogs on my list. My saying du jour?

PLAY NICE OR HULK TURN THE INTERNET AROUND AND DRIVE YOU HOME.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Current Events





I don't know what it is about incoming Freshman guppies, but it seems with every move-in day we seem to get horrific weather. Late yesterday afternoon, a tornado visited a high school in the next county and relocated the roof from on top of the building to the football field. Amazingly, nobody was hurt, despite the fact that people were in the building for orientation. While there was considerable 10-year old tornado angst at Casa de Tuna, we only had bizarre black rolling clouds and a good long rain.



Meanwhile, in the great Midwest, if it's not Cicadas (gee, remember them?) then it's Corpulent Spiders. Bizarro fact from this article? No one is ever more than three feet away from a spider. Sorta makes you want to watch where you step, eh?



Awww. Someone really DOES love the poor Cleveland Indians. A squirrel spent an evening at the ballpark, darting in and around players, and was clearly the favorite among the fans. Play was held up a couple times, but everyone took it in stride, as the Indians even superimposed a picture of the squirrel wearing a Cleveland Indians jersey.



Lastly, but never leastly, you can safely fire up your copy of Jib-Jab's political parody, "This Land." Sued for apparent copyright violation, Jib-Jab's lawyers discovered the Woody Guthrie classic now lives in the safe haven of public domain and the lawsuit was dropped. Being the cool guys that they are, Jib-Jab plans to donate 20% of its proceeds to the Woody Guthrie foundation. Finally, this song was made for you and me.

Current Events



I don't know what it is about incoming Freshman guppies, but it seems with every move-in day we seem to get horrific weather. Late yesterday afternoon, a tornado visited a high school in the next county and relocated the roof from on top of the building to the football field. Amazingly, nobody was hurt, despite the fact that people were in the building for orientation. While there was considerable 10-year old tornado angst at Casa de Tuna, we only had bizarre black rolling clouds and a good long rain.

Meanwhile, in the great Midwest, if it's not Cicadas (gee, remember them?) then it's Corpulent Spiders. Bizarro fact from this article? No one is ever more than three feet away from a spider. Sorta makes you want to watch where you step, eh?

Awww. Someone really DOES love the poor Cleveland Indians. A squirrel spent an evening at the ballpark, darting in and around players, and was clearly the favorite among the fans. Play was held up a couple times, but everyone took it in stride, as the Indians even superimposed a picture of the squirrel wearing a Cleveland Indians jersey.

Lastly, but never leastly, you can safely fire up your copy of Jib-Jab's political parody, "This Land." Sued for apparent copyright violation, Jib-Jab's lawyers discovered the Woody Guthrie classic now lives in the safe haven of public domain and the lawsuit was dropped. Being the cool guys that they are, Jib-Jab plans to donate 20% of its proceeds to the Woody Guthrie foundation. Finally, this song was made for you and me.

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

You Coax The Blues Right Out of the Horn, MEME

This is what happens when you're bored at work. It's the Birth-Month Meme. Find your birth month, copy it into your blog, and then strike out what doesn't apply to you.



MAY:

Stubborn and hard-hearted. (Stubborn, yes, when pushed. Hard hearted? I don't think so.) Strong-willed and highly motivated. (About certain things, yes.) Sharp thoughts. (I think with a big pointy stick.) Easily angered. (Not easily.) Attracts others and loves attention. (Loves attention I can control. ) Deep feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally. (I'm too sexy for my cerebral cortex.) Firm Standpoint. Needs no motivation. Easily consoled. Systematic (left brain). (Why do I ALWAYS have to look up right brain/left brain stuff?) Loves to dream. (Perchance, no.) Strong clairvoyance. (Only Pool People) Understanding. Sickness usually in the ear and neck. (What is neck sickness??) Good imagination. Good physical. Weak breathing. (Good physical what? I suppose have good breathing.) Loves literature and the arts. Loves traveling. (Yep. Yep. And Yep.) Dislike being at home. Restless. (I like being at home. I wish I were there now.) Not having many children. Hardworking. High spirited. (That's me. A high-spirited hardworking mother of not many children.) Spendthrift. (Only on rare occasion. I'm usually too broke to be a Spendthrift.)





Sheesh...maybe I was born in the wrong month!

Oh, and for those of you who ever wondered what on earth a MEME was.

Pass It On!



You Coax The Blues Right Out of the Horn, MEME

This is what happens when you're bored at work. It's the Birth-Month Meme. Find your birth month, copy it into your blog, and then strike out what doesn't apply to you.

MAY:
Stubborn and hard-hearted. (Stubborn, yes, when pushed. Hard hearted? I don't think so.) Strong-willed and highly motivated. (About certain things, yes.) Sharp thoughts. (I think with a big pointy stick.) Easily angered. (Not easily.) Attracts others and loves attention. (Loves attention I can control. ) Deep feelings. Beautiful physically and mentally. (I'm too sexy for my cerebral cortex.) Firm Standpoint. Needs no motivation. Easily consoled. Systematic (left brain). (Why do I ALWAYS have to look up right brain/left brain stuff?) Loves to dream. (Perchance, no.) Strong clairvoyance. (Only Pool People) Understanding. Sickness usually in the ear and neck. (What is neck sickness??) Good imagination. Good physical. Weak breathing. (Good physical what? I suppose have good breathing.) Loves literature and the arts. Loves traveling. (Yep. Yep. And Yep.) Dislike being at home. Restless. (I like being at home. I wish I were there now.) Not having many children. Hardworking. High spirited. (That's me. A high-spirited hardworking mother of not many children.) Spendthrift. (Only on rare occasion. I'm usually too broke to be a Spendthrift.)


Sheesh...maybe I was born in the wrong month!
Oh, and for those of you who ever wondered what on earth a MEME was.
Pass It On!

I See U-Haul People

Grab your riot gear and crack open a cold one: 45,000 students have moved back to TunaU. The U-Haul people are mingling with the area rug people, and there are confused parents everywhere. If you live near Tuna Central, tonight would not be a good night to visit the local QD (party store) for a Slim Jim and a Diet Coke.



It's hard to get excited when the students come back, but at the same time, students are why many of us have jobs here at the great TunaU. A college town does have its share of excitement and vibrancy, but that is always tempered with noise, traffic and idiot behavior.



So, to the incoming school of new Tunas, I say welcome. I'm glad you're here, and I think you'll like this little green patch of mitten. I know you must have some sort of smarts, because you're here and not at Beelzebub's Bed and Breakfast down the road. Kat knows of what I speak.



But, before you drag that sofa onto your front lawn and crack open that case of Bud Light, I'd just like to remind you that although you may be on your own for the first time ever, you don't live in a bubble. You are now part of a neighborhood -- a community -- a city. And we are prepared.



I understand that you, as students, feel it is your right to have a good time at any time of the day or night and at any decibel level. Please understand that I own a power mower, and Jesus thinks a Sunday morning trim at 6 a.m. is Just and Holy.



I understand that you, as students, feel that your outside voice vocabulary need only to consist of dude, man, beer, bang, chick and stud -- all sprinkled liberally with expletives. Please understand that the power of purple is on my side and I have several extended-play Barney videos at my disposal. You'll be weeping before the ants go marching two-by-two. Hurrah! Hurrah!



I understand that you, as students, feel that bar night starts on Thursday afternoon and ends sometime Sunday evening. That one I'll concede. I'm not going anywhere near the kingdom on a Saturday night. I'll leave retribution to the Tunapolice.



Finally, I understand that you, as students, feel that you don't need to start your research papers until the day before they are due, and then expect me to find your materials, tell you how to write your bibliography, and then provide free paper, staples and white-out. Please understand that you are entirely at my mercy. I can lead you to the corner of the fourth floor stacks and rip up the colored tape leading to the elevators. They might find you next June.



As long as we are clear on the rules and regs, we'll get along just fine. There's nothing better than being a SparTuna. Now, move your U-Haul.

I See U-Haul People

Grab your riot gear and crack open a cold one: 45,000 students have moved back to TunaU. The U-Haul people are mingling with the area rug people, and there are confused parents everywhere. If you live near Tuna Central, tonight would not be a good night to visit the local QD (party store) for a Slim Jim and a Diet Coke.

It's hard to get excited when the students come back, but at the same time, students are why many of us have jobs here at the great TunaU. A college town does have its share of excitement and vibrancy, but that is always tempered with noise, traffic and idiot behavior.

So, to the incoming school of new Tunas, I say welcome. I'm glad you're here, and I think you'll like this little green patch of mitten. I know you must have some sort of smarts, because you're here and not at Beelzebub's Bed and Breakfast down the road. Kat knows of what I speak.

But, before you drag that sofa onto your front lawn and crack open that case of Bud Light, I'd just like to remind you that although you may be on your own for the first time ever, you don't live in a bubble. You are now part of a neighborhood -- a community -- a city. And we are prepared.

I understand that you, as students, feel it is your right to have a good time at any time of the day or night and at any decibel level. Please understand that I own a power mower, and Jesus thinks a Sunday morning trim at 6 a.m. is Just and Holy.

I understand that you, as students, feel that your outside voice vocabulary need only to consist of dude, man, beer, bang, chick and stud -- all sprinkled liberally with expletives. Please understand that the power of purple is on my side and I have several extended-play Barney videos at my disposal. You'll be weeping before the ants go marching two-by-two. Hurrah! Hurrah!

I understand that you, as students, feel that bar night starts on Thursday afternoon and ends sometime Sunday evening. That one I'll concede. I'm not going anywhere near the kingdom on a Saturday night. I'll leave retribution to the Tunapolice.

Finally, I understand that you, as students, feel that you don't need to start your research papers until the day before they are due, and then expect me to find your materials, tell you how to write your bibliography, and then provide free paper, staples and white-out. Please understand that you are entirely at my mercy. I can lead you to the corner of the fourth floor stacks and rip up the colored tape leading to the elevators. They might find you next June.

As long as we are clear on the rules and regs, we'll get along just fine. There's nothing better than being a SparTuna. Now, move your U-Haul.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Resurfacing

Can it be that I haven't posted since *gasp* Thursday? I guess so. Or, I guess not, depending on how you look at things. So what's been happening?



1. Bessie who had been severely cranky lately turned in a full blown attitude that I was unable to overcome. Having nowhere to turn (CompUSA people? Mmmmm, no) I decided to bite the bullet. I dragged her into work on Friday in an attempts to repair Windows XP one more time. No go. So out of sheer frustration I gave her a Bill Gates enema. WoooEEEee! Now she's clean as a whistle. The upside? She runs like da bomb (or as much of da bomb as a three year old machine can muster). The downside? I lost everything. Not to fear -- most was replaceable in one way or another. Oh, another downside? Bessie is now giving me the silent treatment, as XP is choosing not to recognize either her sound card or her video card. Evidently this problem isn't unheard of, but I haven't had time to go and investigate what to do next.



2. Over the weekend and into Monday I've been feeling of the crud. I decided to actually burn a couple of sick days, which is nearly unheard of for me. I figure if I can remain conscious, it's good enough for academia. My ailment seems to be this pseudo faux flu that is going around. General stomach uneasiness, but nothing bad enough to make you do the 25 yard bathroom dash. General aches and pains, but nothing bad enough to warrant aspirin or a wet washcloth (despite TinyTuna's insistence that I was burning up at LEVEL 9!!!). Just general blargness that required chicken noodle soup, several sessions on my couch, and massive Olympic watching on CBC.



BTW -- What's up with that CBC cow thing? You Canadians are making it hard to keep my promise.......

Resurfacing

Can it be that I haven't posted since *gasp* Thursday? I guess so. Or, I guess not, depending on how you look at things. So what's been happening?

1. Bessie who had been severely cranky lately turned in a full blown attitude that I was unable to overcome. Having nowhere to turn (CompUSA people? Mmmmm, no) I decided to bite the bullet. I dragged her into work on Friday in an attempts to repair Windows XP one more time. No go. So out of sheer frustration I gave her a Bill Gates enema. WoooEEEee! Now she's clean as a whistle. The upside? She runs like da bomb (or as much of da bomb as a three year old machine can muster). The downside? I lost everything. Not to fear -- most was replaceable in one way or another. Oh, another downside? Bessie is now giving me the silent treatment, as XP is choosing not to recognize either her sound card or her video card. Evidently this problem isn't unheard of, but I haven't had time to go and investigate what to do next.

2. Over the weekend and into Monday I've been feeling of the crud. I decided to actually burn a couple of sick days, which is nearly unheard of for me. I figure if I can remain conscious, it's good enough for academia. My ailment seems to be this pseudo faux flu that is going around. General stomach uneasiness, but nothing bad enough to make you do the 25 yard bathroom dash. General aches and pains, but nothing bad enough to warrant aspirin or a wet washcloth (despite TinyTuna's insistence that I was burning up at LEVEL 9!!!). Just general blargness that required chicken noodle soup, several sessions on my couch, and massive Olympic watching on CBC.

BTW -- What's up with that CBC cow thing? You Canadians are making it hard to keep my promise.......

Thursday, August 19, 2004

In Fact, I Think it is Awesome

As long as I'm at it, here's a link to a Will Ferrell commercial done for ACT (America Coming Together) which is probably the funniest thing I've seen in a long time.



In fact, I think it is awesome.

In Fact, I Think it is Awesome

As long as I'm at it, here's a link to a Will Ferrell commercial done for ACT (America Coming Together) which is probably the funniest thing I've seen in a long time.

In fact, I think it is awesome.

Critics Corner

File this under "things I wish I had thought of first....

A book review on Amazon for "The Little Goat"





All Customer Reviews

Average Customer Review: 5 out of 5 stars

Write an online review and share your thoughts with other customers.

199 of 201 people found the following review helpful:

5 out of 5 stars I SPENT 7 MINUTES READING IT!, August 5, 2004



Reviewer: W. (Washington, DC, USA) - See all my reviews
While my country was under attack, this book had me hypnotized.



-George

Critics Corner

File this under "things I wish I had thought of first....
A book review on Amazon for "The Little Goat"


All Customer Reviews
Average Customer Review: 5 out of 5 stars

Write an online review and share your thoughts with other customers.

199 of 201 people found the following review helpful:

5 out of 5 stars I SPENT 7 MINUTES READING IT!, August 5, 2004

Reviewer: W. (Washington, DC, USA) - See all my reviews
While my country was under attack, this book had me hypnotized.

-George

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

On My Go...



Well, it's here. The next season of Survivor castaways has been posted over at Ye Olde CBS website. Let's take a moment and meet the gang...



AMI CUSACK

Age: 31

Occupation: Barrista/Model

Hometown: Lakewood, Colorado


Today I learned, thanks to my boyfriend, that technically, a barrista is someone who has been professionally trained in the art of espresso preparation. I found a better explanation here:

"In Italy, barista is a coveted title. It's a career that requires significant apprenticeship and for which no one would assume the title unless he or she could profess to having dedicated time and practice to this art."In the US, barista means anybody who wears an apron and can say "mocha latte half-caf espresso dessert-look'in tastes-like-shit with whipped cream" in less than three seconds without taking a breath.



Well, Ami-with-an-I, I don't know how much espresso is going to be happening over at Vanuatu, so...best of luck.





BRADY FINTA

Age: 33

Occupation: FBI Agent/Ex-Military

Hometown: Huntington Beach, CA


Brady. Brady Finta. The Young and the Restless called.

They'd like their name back.



BROOK GERAGHTY

Age: 27

Occupation: Project Manager

Hometown: Winthrop, MA


First of all, I'm praying that the Massachusetts accent that is Brook (soap opera name number two, for those of you keeping score) isn't as heavy as Boston Rob, because I'm not sure I can taken another season of the Beantown nasal twang. By the looks of things, Brook will stick around until the merge, and will be the first one booted for being too strong and being named after running water.



CHAD CRITTENDEN

Age: 35

Occupation: Teacher

Hometown: Oakland, CA


It's regrettable in a highly UN-PC kind of way (no emails, please) that Chad wasn't on the piratey-themed Survivor: Pearl Islands. I triple dog dare someone to ask Chad how's it hanging. He might have a leg-up on the competition (rim-shot) for sentimentality's sake, but I'll need to be careful, because so far I have typed Chat every single time I've meant to type Chad. (Yep, just did it again)



CHRIS DAUGHERTY

Age: 33

Occupation: Highway Construction

Hometown: South Vienna, OH


Voted most likely to call someone a "mook." His hobbies include NASCAR, four-wheeling in his Jeep, and basketball. Lives with his fiancee and pet lizard. He better be humble but lovable, otherwise, I see him leaving early.



DOLLY NEELY

Age: 25

Occupation: Sheep Herder

Hometown: Mercer, PA






Hello, Dolly! (I had to do that). I know I shouldn't deride the sheep herder. But if I don't say something I'll explode. First of all, Dolly looks like the "before" country-girl version of Holly. Twin twist? I hope not. But after reading her bio, she appears to be a right-wing, Gun-toting, Jesus-loving, muskrat-trapping, bad-assed outdoorswoman. Most likely to shake her finger and irritate the natives.



ELIZA ORLINS

Age: 21

Occupation: Pre-Law Student

Hometown: Syracuse, NY


Well-traveled, member of Alpha Phi (for those who care) and well-educated? Kiss of death. Most likely to appear on the cover of STUFF Magazine.



JOHN KENNEY

Age: 22

Occupation: Mechanical Bull Operator/Model

Hometown: Los Angeles, CA

Dear John: I am well-versed in the art of padding ones resume to make the mundane seem a bit more important and/or exotic. Was it that you were afraid that "Mechanical Bull Operator" wasn't a big enough draw that you felt compelled to add "Model" afterwards? Most likely to be first in line at Belly's Bar -- the home of misfit Reality Show contestants.



JOHN PALYOK

Age: 31

Occupation: Sales Manager

Hometown: Los Angeles, CA

P is for Pooka beads. His bio is much more impressive than his "Sales Manager" occupation he has listed. He's an Indiana boy, so I guess I can't haze him too much. YET. He's also big into bow hunting. Most likely to erase the memory of Survivor Two's Mike Skubin.



JULIE BERRY

Age: 23

Occupation: Youth Mentor

Hometown: Gorham, ME

Her bio spends more time talking about her intellectually stimulating and expansive family than just about anything else. Most likely to vomit first.



LEA MASTERS

Age: 40

Occupation: Drill Sargeant

Hometown: Columbia, SC

Nickname: Sarge. We'll know two minutes into the show whether Lea will be the dead-on favorite (Rudy!) or the biggest pain in the ass ever (Frank!) My bet is with the latter, although he'll have friends if he can hook up with the NASCAR crowd.



LEANN SLABY

Age: 35

Occupation: Research Assistant

Hometown: Kansasville, WI

Don't let the "research assistant" fool ya. The first thing on her bio? She's a model. The second thing on her bio? She's an actress. Research assistant. See: Mechanical Bull Operator (above)



LISA KEIFFER

Age: 44

Occupation: Real Estate Agent

Hometown: New Orleans, LA

Cheerleader. Homecoming court. Alpha Tau Omega "Mardi Gras Queen." Owns three pets, "Waddles, Murray, and Dexter" who are a goat, dog and donkey, respectively. Mostly likely to have her mid-life crisis rewarded by being voted off first.



MIA GALEOTALANZA

Age: 30

Occupation: Finance Manager

Hometown: Tom's River, NJ

She describes herself as "fun, optimistic, and far too inquisitive." Translated, she is funny, flaky, and obnoxious. Finance Manager? Most of her resume could be rewritten as "crazy bartender."



RORY FREEMAN

Age: 35

Occupation: S8 Housing Case Manager

Hometown: Des Moines, IA





Most likely to be a stunt double for Darius Rucker. Looks like a nice guy. Probably means somebody will punch his ass in the eye.



SCOUT CLOUD LEE

Age: 59

Occupation: Rancher, Entrepreneur

Hometown: Stillwater, OK

The only thing NOT listed on her bio is "Mechanical Bull Operator." Most likely to be able to kick my butt from here to Oklahoma and back. Her Survivor success will be entirely dependent on her ability to tone down her knowledge and achievements to an acceptable level.



TRAVIS SAMPSON

Age: 33

Occupation: Loss Prevention

Hometown: Blountville, TN

Nickname: Bubba. He's the oldest looking 33 year old I've ever seen. Notable items on his Bio: Works for Walmart. Spent time with his Grandfather watching The Price is Right. And Wrassling. Pursued a wrassling career on the side. His wife is his hero because she went through thirty eight months of pain to bring her children into this world. Wow. And here I was complaining about thirty four hours of labor. Most likely anger viewers nation-wide by channeling Johnny Fairplay.



TWILA TANNER

Age: 41

Occupation: Highway Repair

Hometown: Marshall, MO





If that isn't a picture of Robin Williams in a cowboy hat, I'll eat...my hat.



So there you have it. Eighteen players (three teams again, maybe?)

for Survivor Nine: Vanuatu.

Season Premiere, Thursday September 16, 8:00 pm.

All I want to know is, which one is the naked guy?

Place your bets now.

On My Go...


Well, it's here. The next season of Survivor castaways has been posted over at Ye Olde CBS website. Let's take a moment and meet the gang...

AMI CUSACK
Age: 31
Occupation: Barrista/Model
Hometown: Lakewood, Colorado

Today I learned, thanks to my boyfriend, that technically, a barrista is someone who has been professionally trained in the art of espresso preparation. I found a better explanation here:
"In Italy, barista is a coveted title. It's a career that requires significant apprenticeship and for which no one would assume the title unless he or she could profess to having dedicated time and practice to this art."In the US, barista means anybody who wears an apron and can say "mocha latte half-caf espresso dessert-look'in tastes-like-shit with whipped cream" in less than three seconds without taking a breath.

Well, Ami-with-an-I, I don't know how much espresso is going to be happening over at Vanuatu, so...best of luck.


BRADY FINTA
Age: 33
Occupation: FBI Agent/Ex-Military
Hometown: Huntington Beach, CA

Brady. Brady Finta. The Young and the Restless called.
They'd like their name back.

BROOK GERAGHTY
Age: 27
Occupation: Project Manager
Hometown: Winthrop, MA

First of all, I'm praying that the Massachusetts accent that is Brook (soap opera name number two, for those of you keeping score) isn't as heavy as Boston Rob, because I'm not sure I can taken another season of the Beantown nasal twang. By the looks of things, Brook will stick around until the merge, and will be the first one booted for being too strong and being named after running water.

CHAD CRITTENDEN
Age: 35
Occupation: Teacher
Hometown: Oakland, CA

It's regrettable in a highly UN-PC kind of way (no emails, please) that Chad wasn't on the piratey-themed Survivor: Pearl Islands. I triple dog dare someone to ask Chad how's it hanging. He might have a leg-up on the competition (rim-shot) for sentimentality's sake, but I'll need to be careful, because so far I have typed Chat every single time I've meant to type Chad. (Yep, just did it again)

CHRIS DAUGHERTY
Age: 33
Occupation: Highway Construction
Hometown: South Vienna, OH

Voted most likely to call someone a "mook." His hobbies include NASCAR, four-wheeling in his Jeep, and basketball. Lives with his fiancee and pet lizard. He better be humble but lovable, otherwise, I see him leaving early.

DOLLY NEELY
Age: 25
Occupation: Sheep Herder
Hometown: Mercer, PA



Hello, Dolly! (I had to do that). I know I shouldn't deride the sheep herder. But if I don't say something I'll explode. First of all, Dolly looks like the "before" country-girl version of Holly. Twin twist? I hope not. But after reading her bio, she appears to be a right-wing, Gun-toting, Jesus-loving, muskrat-trapping, bad-assed outdoorswoman. Most likely to shake her finger and irritate the natives.

ELIZA ORLINS
Age: 21
Occupation: Pre-Law Student
Hometown: Syracuse, NY

Well-traveled, member of Alpha Phi (for those who care) and well-educated? Kiss of death. Most likely to appear on the cover of STUFF Magazine.

JOHN KENNEY
Age: 22
Occupation: Mechanical Bull Operator/Model
Hometown: Los Angeles, CA
Dear John: I am well-versed in the art of padding ones resume to make the mundane seem a bit more important and/or exotic. Was it that you were afraid that "Mechanical Bull Operator" wasn't a big enough draw that you felt compelled to add "Model" afterwards? Most likely to be first in line at Belly's Bar -- the home of misfit Reality Show contestants.

JOHN PALYOK
Age: 31
Occupation: Sales Manager
Hometown: Los Angeles, CA
P is for Pooka beads. His bio is much more impressive than his "Sales Manager" occupation he has listed. He's an Indiana boy, so I guess I can't haze him too much. YET. He's also big into bow hunting. Most likely to erase the memory of Survivor Two's Mike Skubin.

JULIE BERRY
Age: 23
Occupation: Youth Mentor
Hometown: Gorham, ME
Her bio spends more time talking about her intellectually stimulating and expansive family than just about anything else. Most likely to vomit first.

LEA MASTERS
Age: 40
Occupation: Drill Sargeant
Hometown: Columbia, SC
Nickname: Sarge. We'll know two minutes into the show whether Lea will be the dead-on favorite (Rudy!) or the biggest pain in the ass ever (Frank!) My bet is with the latter, although he'll have friends if he can hook up with the NASCAR crowd.

LEANN SLABY
Age: 35
Occupation: Research Assistant
Hometown: Kansasville, WI
Don't let the "research assistant" fool ya. The first thing on her bio? She's a model. The second thing on her bio? She's an actress. Research assistant. See: Mechanical Bull Operator (above)

LISA KEIFFER
Age: 44
Occupation: Real Estate Agent
Hometown: New Orleans, LA
Cheerleader. Homecoming court. Alpha Tau Omega "Mardi Gras Queen." Owns three pets, "Waddles, Murray, and Dexter" who are a goat, dog and donkey, respectively. Mostly likely to have her mid-life crisis rewarded by being voted off first.

MIA GALEOTALANZA
Age: 30
Occupation: Finance Manager
Hometown: Tom's River, NJ
She describes herself as "fun, optimistic, and far too inquisitive." Translated, she is funny, flaky, and obnoxious. Finance Manager? Most of her resume could be rewritten as "crazy bartender."

RORY FREEMAN
Age: 35
Occupation: S8 Housing Case Manager
Hometown: Des Moines, IA


Most likely to be a stunt double for Darius Rucker. Looks like a nice guy. Probably means somebody will punch his ass in the eye.

SCOUT CLOUD LEE
Age: 59
Occupation: Rancher, Entrepreneur
Hometown: Stillwater, OK
The only thing NOT listed on her bio is "Mechanical Bull Operator." Most likely to be able to kick my butt from here to Oklahoma and back. Her Survivor success will be entirely dependent on her ability to tone down her knowledge and achievements to an acceptable level.

TRAVIS SAMPSON
Age: 33
Occupation: Loss Prevention
Hometown: Blountville, TN
Nickname: Bubba. He's the oldest looking 33 year old I've ever seen. Notable items on his Bio: Works for Walmart. Spent time with his Grandfather watching The Price is Right. And Wrassling. Pursued a wrassling career on the side. His wife is his hero because she went through thirty eight months of pain to bring her children into this world. Wow. And here I was complaining about thirty four hours of labor. Most likely anger viewers nation-wide by channeling Johnny Fairplay.

TWILA TANNER
Age: 41
Occupation: Highway Repair
Hometown: Marshall, MO


If that isn't a picture of Robin Williams in a cowboy hat, I'll eat...my hat.

So there you have it. Eighteen players (three teams again, maybe?)
for Survivor Nine: Vanuatu.
Season Premiere, Thursday September 16, 8:00 pm.
All I want to know is, which one is the naked guy?
Place your bets now.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Promises, Promises

You know, I promised I wouldn't make fun of Canadians during the Olympics. But geez, EH, you know, when you hand me news flashes like this, I'll just EXPLODE if I don't say something. It happened during the men's synchronized diving which, yes, I actually watched yesterday. When they make synchronized cannonballs an Olympic event, I'll be signing up TinyTuna right away.







Ahh yes. Our lovely neighbors to the north.

Promises, Promises

You know, I promised I wouldn't make fun of Canadians during the Olympics. But geez, EH, you know, when you hand me news flashes like this, I'll just EXPLODE if I don't say something. It happened during the men's synchronized diving which, yes, I actually watched yesterday. When they make synchronized cannonballs an Olympic event, I'll be signing up TinyTuna right away.



Ahh yes. Our lovely neighbors to the north.

Let My People Go

First, a little quiz.



Question 1: Who is this?





Hopefully you all said, "Val Kilmer." I like to start easy.

OK, now. When you think of Val Kilmer, do you think of:



A. BATMAN





B. JIM MORRISON





C. AN ANIMATED CARTOON





D. CHARLTON HESTON





Well, hang onto your hats and pray that you answered "D", because here it comes. The one, the only....





(starring Val Kilmer as Moses)



Oy Veh. Where do I begin?



Well, let's start with THE PITCH:



The TEN COMMANDMENTS is a story about faith, persistence, triumph and everlasting love. It chronicles the story of Moses leading the Hebrews from captivity out of Egypt, and the passions that would drive the people to sacrifice their children, betray their kinsmen, and ultimately rise up against the greatest imperial power the world had ever known. This spectacular pop musical tells the 3,300-year-old story of Moses' exodus from Egypt into a journey of happiness, life, and rebirth - one of the most moving stories of civilization.



Somehow they have the Old Testament (Big Beards, WOOF WOOF) sounding like a cross between a Harlequin romance and Terminator Two.



Next, let's take a look at the composers. The original score was composed by Pascal Obispo and yes, you had better click on that link boys and girls, and tell me, does this look like somebody particularly familiar with the trials and tribulations of the Hebrew People? I'm not sure Moses would go for the pink feather boa, much less the dragon tattoo.



Next, there is music by film composer Patrick Leonard. Now, if you're like me (and perhaps more's the pity if you are) you may have said "Who's that??" After having a conference with my boyfriend I have come to find out that he has composed music for such classic films as Who's That Girl? Although working on a Madonna film may feel like forty years of suffering, it does not a composer make.



I think my favorite line in the advertising blitz is: The Ten Commandments, which has previously played in Europe, has undergone revisions with a new production team for its American debut.



Revisions? Like what?



NOW WITH 63% FEWER PLAGUES!




or maybe



WATCH AS THE AMERICANS REACH THE PROMISED LAND FIRST IN THEIR QUEST FOR MILK AND HONEY AND A GOLD MEDAL!!



Mostly, I'm waiting for the songs. Because you know, the possibilities are endless...



-- Green Frogs Keep Rainin' On My Head

-- Are You Going To Scarborough Pharoah?

-- Walk Like an Egyptian

-- A Tisket, A Tasket, He Floated in a Basket




Where's Adam Sandler when you need him?



Tell Big Bird and Grover, It's time for Passover

Get in your Land Rover,
and come celebrate Passover....

Let My People Go

First, a little quiz.

Question 1: Who is this?


Hopefully you all said, "Val Kilmer." I like to start easy.
OK, now. When you think of Val Kilmer, do you think of:

A. BATMAN


B. JIM MORRISON


C. AN ANIMATED CARTOON


D. CHARLTON HESTON


Well, hang onto your hats and pray that you answered "D", because here it comes. The one, the only....


(starring Val Kilmer as Moses)

Oy Veh. Where do I begin?

Well, let's start with THE PITCH:

The TEN COMMANDMENTS is a story about faith, persistence, triumph and everlasting love. It chronicles the story of Moses leading the Hebrews from captivity out of Egypt, and the passions that would drive the people to sacrifice their children, betray their kinsmen, and ultimately rise up against the greatest imperial power the world had ever known. This spectacular pop musical tells the 3,300-year-old story of Moses' exodus from Egypt into a journey of happiness, life, and rebirth - one of the most moving stories of civilization.

Somehow they have the Old Testament (Big Beards, WOOF WOOF) sounding like a cross between a Harlequin romance and Terminator Two.

Next, let's take a look at the composers. The original score was composed by Pascal Obispo and yes, you had better click on that link boys and girls, and tell me, does this look like somebody particularly familiar with the trials and tribulations of the Hebrew People? I'm not sure Moses would go for the pink feather boa, much less the dragon tattoo.

Next, there is music by film composer Patrick Leonard. Now, if you're like me (and perhaps more's the pity if you are) you may have said "Who's that??" After having a conference with my boyfriend I have come to find out that he has composed music for such classic films as Who's That Girl? Although working on a Madonna film may feel like forty years of suffering, it does not a composer make.

I think my favorite line in the advertising blitz is: The Ten Commandments, which has previously played in Europe, has undergone revisions with a new production team for its American debut.

Revisions? Like what?

NOW WITH 63% FEWER PLAGUES!


or maybe

WATCH AS THE AMERICANS REACH THE PROMISED LAND FIRST IN THEIR QUEST FOR MILK AND HONEY AND A GOLD MEDAL!!

Mostly, I'm waiting for the songs. Because you know, the possibilities are endless...

-- Green Frogs Keep Rainin' On My Head
-- Are You Going To Scarborough Pharoah?
-- Walk Like an Egyptian
-- A Tisket, A Tasket, He Floated in a Basket


Where's Adam Sandler when you need him?

Tell Big Bird and Grover, It's time for Passover
Get in your Land Rover,
and come celebrate Passover....

Monday, August 16, 2004

Apocalypse NOW

Forget the four horsemen. My banner ads, they are gone.

I knew I should have bookmarked those pages for Peeps Bazooka Guns and Betty's Baton Bonanza.

Apocalypse NOW

Forget the four horsemen. My banner ads, they are gone.
I knew I should have bookmarked those pages for Peeps Bazooka Guns and Betty's Baton Bonanza.

Greek Tragedy

Ahh, the Olympics. That wonderful, 17-day event where athletes from AMERICA come and compete and win lots and lots and lots of GOLD MEDALS. During those 17 days we watch lots of commercials with a few sporting events thrown in, but only those events featuring AMERICA and AMERICAN ATHLETES winning AMERICAN GOLD MEDALS.



Four days in, and I'm already hyped-out.



I might not get to see as much Olympic competition as I'd like, but HEY -- I did find out that the twin male gymnasts from Wisconsin were born 20 minutes apart! Damn the athletic competitions! More UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL!



There seem to be three categories of athletes at the Olympics: First there are AMERICAN ATHELETES! WINNING THE GOLD! LIVING THE AMERICAN DREAM! LOOK AT THEM GO!! Next, there are American Athletes with disappointing performances. They trained so very hard, and when the time came they just couldn't produce. They shall forever be on the "Agony of Defeat" tape reels as a foil for AMERICANS! WINNING THE GOLD! LIVING THE AMERICAN DREAM! ON BOXES OF WHEATIES! Last but not least there are... There are... Who are these people? Well, There are these other unimportant people. We don't know who they are but we know that they are the losers WHEN THE AMERICANS WIN THE GOLD!!



I'm sorry Katie Couric. Same to you Bob Costas. I just cannot take NBC coverage of the AMERICAN OLYMPICS (with a bunch of other people we really don't care much about at all). For the next 17 days, I'm grabbing a maple leaf or two and watching the Olympics on my local CBC station. I promise not to make fun of Canadians for the next 13 days.

Greek Tragedy

Ahh, the Olympics. That wonderful, 17-day event where athletes from AMERICA come and compete and win lots and lots and lots of GOLD MEDALS. During those 17 days we watch lots of commercials with a few sporting events thrown in, but only those events featuring AMERICA and AMERICAN ATHLETES winning AMERICAN GOLD MEDALS.

Four days in, and I'm already hyped-out.

I might not get to see as much Olympic competition as I'd like, but HEY -- I did find out that the twin male gymnasts from Wisconsin were born 20 minutes apart! Damn the athletic competitions! More UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL!

There seem to be three categories of athletes at the Olympics: First there are AMERICAN ATHELETES! WINNING THE GOLD! LIVING THE AMERICAN DREAM! LOOK AT THEM GO!! Next, there are American Athletes with disappointing performances. They trained so very hard, and when the time came they just couldn't produce. They shall forever be on the "Agony of Defeat" tape reels as a foil for AMERICANS! WINNING THE GOLD! LIVING THE AMERICAN DREAM! ON BOXES OF WHEATIES! Last but not least there are... There are... Who are these people? Well, There are these other unimportant people. We don't know who they are but we know that they are the losers WHEN THE AMERICANS WIN THE GOLD!!

I'm sorry Katie Couric. Same to you Bob Costas. I just cannot take NBC coverage of the AMERICAN OLYMPICS (with a bunch of other people we really don't care much about at all). For the next 17 days, I'm grabbing a maple leaf or two and watching the Olympics on my local CBC station. I promise not to make fun of Canadians for the next 13 days.

All About ME

It seems this week I am the honoree (or is it victim?) for Chef Grace's infamous Spotlight On... So, if you were dying to know what on earth is in my vegetable crisper, what I REALLY think of avocados, and how insanely boring I truly can be, go over and take a peek.



NOW!

All About ME

It seems this week I am the honoree (or is it victim?) for Chef Grace's infamous Spotlight On... So, if you were dying to know what on earth is in my vegetable crisper, what I REALLY think of avocados, and how insanely boring I truly can be, go over and take a peek.

NOW!

Friday, August 13, 2004

Spanning The Web

SAVED BY THE BATON

Copssister sent me a link to let me know that Miss America is turning back (Oh Man!), foreswearing its foolish ways and reinstating the Talent Competition -- sort of. Originally, talent was televised for the top 10, and then they had scaled it back to the top 5. This year the organization planned to allow only one contestant (already eliminated) to perform her talent during the broadcast. While that has some delicious implications (Sorry, you're ugly. NOW DANCE!), it just isn't the same. Now, they are going to show the talent from the top two contestants. COME ON! We promise to watch. Show Us The Talent!



IT REALLY WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT

The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest winner was announced a couple of weeks ago. This is the literary contest where applicants attempt to write in that stomach churning, heavy-laden prose that only a fruitcake salesman could love. Many congrats to the 2004 Winner, Dave Zobel, who offered up this paragraph as if it were a lone Chicken McNugget being sacrificed to The Gods of Deli-Style Honey Mustard Sauce:



"She resolved to end the love affair with Ramon tonight...summarily, like Martha Stewart ripping the sand vein out of a shrimps tail...though the term "love affair" now struck her as a ridiculous euphemism...not unlike "sand vein," which is after all an intestine, not a vein...and that tarry substance inside certainly isn't sand...and that brought her back to Ramon."



WHAT WOULD LUDWIG DO?

One of the many banes of my existence rears its musically ugly head every Christmas Season. This would when the local classical radio station starts playing cuts from albums like, What If Mozart Wrote 'Jingle Bells?' or What If The Haydn Wrote the entire soundtrack to the TV special 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' and then was unceremoniously dropped kicked onto the Island of Misfit Toys? Now, If I answered that question, the answer would be 1. Nobody would buy it, and, 2. We'd have a very merry Christmas, Indeed. Evidently I'm the only one that feels that way, because for reasons I cannot comprehend, these albums are actually POPULAR!



Not to be outdone, Some Guy has composed and entire Stairway to Heaven Suite, complete with verses in the style of Schubert, Holst, Glen Miller, Mahler, Bizet and Beethoven. I'm looking forward to PBSTuna playing this on the next pledge drive.



WISH LIST

The following are things I'll be adding to my wish list: An Anti-Radition Scarf and perhaps a matching Anti-Radiation Silver Waistcoast. I ain't afraid of no cell-phones!

Spanning The Web

SAVED BY THE BATON
Copssister sent me a link to let me know that Miss America is turning back (Oh Man!), foreswearing its foolish ways and reinstating the Talent Competition -- sort of. Originally, talent was televised for the top 10, and then they had scaled it back to the top 5. This year the organization planned to allow only one contestant (already eliminated) to perform her talent during the broadcast. While that has some delicious implications (Sorry, you're ugly. NOW DANCE!), it just isn't the same. Now, they are going to show the talent from the top two contestants. COME ON! We promise to watch. Show Us The Talent!

IT REALLY WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT
The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest winner was announced a couple of weeks ago. This is the literary contest where applicants attempt to write in that stomach churning, heavy-laden prose that only a fruitcake salesman could love. Many congrats to the 2004 Winner, Dave Zobel, who offered up this paragraph as if it were a lone Chicken McNugget being sacrificed to The Gods of Deli-Style Honey Mustard Sauce:

"She resolved to end the love affair with Ramon tonight...summarily, like Martha Stewart ripping the sand vein out of a shrimps tail...though the term "love affair" now struck her as a ridiculous euphemism...not unlike "sand vein," which is after all an intestine, not a vein...and that tarry substance inside certainly isn't sand...and that brought her back to Ramon."

WHAT WOULD LUDWIG DO?
One of the many banes of my existence rears its musically ugly head every Christmas Season. This would when the local classical radio station starts playing cuts from albums like, What If Mozart Wrote 'Jingle Bells?' or What If The Haydn Wrote the entire soundtrack to the TV special 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer' and then was unceremoniously dropped kicked onto the Island of Misfit Toys? Now, If I answered that question, the answer would be 1. Nobody would buy it, and, 2. We'd have a very merry Christmas, Indeed. Evidently I'm the only one that feels that way, because for reasons I cannot comprehend, these albums are actually POPULAR!

Not to be outdone, Some Guy has composed and entire Stairway to Heaven Suite, complete with verses in the style of Schubert, Holst, Glen Miller, Mahler, Bizet and Beethoven. I'm looking forward to PBSTuna playing this on the next pledge drive.

WISH LIST
The following are things I'll be adding to my wish list: An Anti-Radition Scarf and perhaps a matching Anti-Radiation Silver Waistcoast. I ain't afraid of no cell-phones!

Eat In Peace

Julia Child passed away three days before her 92nd birthday.

Heaven is going to be a lot tastier now.

Eat In Peace

Julia Child passed away three days before her 92nd birthday.
Heaven is going to be a lot tastier now.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

Things I Don't Understand

From the GreenTuna Files of "Things I Don't Understand"



1. New Movie: Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid (2004)

I must admit that I don't understand this on a number of levels. Evidently The Powers That Be consider this film to be a sequel to that 1997 stinkeroo, Anaconda that flopped as badly as a snake could possibly flop. The acting was off the charts, Velveeta-ly speaking, the goofs (waterfalls flowing UP?) were legendary, and the writing found in the reviews ('Anaconda' is as stupid as movies nowadays come...it is hard to respect a movie, when, in the end, after all the chaos and destruction it has caused, I felt sorry for the snake's suffering) slithered laps around the actual script.



So, why is Sony making another go of killer snake cinema? Do they feel the first attempt didn't completely tell the story? Do they think they can improve on the artistic powers that were Jon Voigt, Ice Cube and J-Lo? Are they ready to right all the cinematic wrongs from seven years ago? Well, considering Blood Orchid takes place in Indonesia, and all the flora and fauna shown in the trailer are native to South America, I'm thinking it's not going to happen. In addition, the 2004 Anaconda is a new and improved model, able to travel 150 feet per second. Unless it is equipped with warp drive, or shot out of a cannon, I may not be able to overcome the suspension of belief. Even Disney had enough sense to know that if an elephant was going to fly, it had better be animated and come with a magic feather.



2. Jane Pauley and Tony Danza

New for Fall 2004. Jane Pauley and Tony Danza are each getting their own talk show. Why, God, Why?? Have you not made my people suffer enough? We have endured the plagues of Jerry Springer and Jenny Jones, of Maury Povich and Rikki Lake, of Sharon Osborne and Rosie and Ellen and Oprah and Dr. Phil. Lord, our legislature appears to be powerless to control this beast. Please, give the universe a break, Mmmkay?



3. Public Phone Calls for Private Business

I work in a library. Although it is a University Library, we are a land-grant institution, which means we love all members of our community, big and small, sane and insane, bathed and...well, you get the idea. Up here on the fourth floor of heaven, there is a public telephone by the book stacks. The book stacks with SHIFTING IN PROGRESS, PEOPLE. Yesterday when I was out in the stacks, sweating, shifting, shlumpfing and slamming books onto the empty shelves, I could clearly hear someone talking on the pay phone, right around the corner.



"But why? WHY? .... Yeah, but WHY? Just tell me WHY! ... Why? ... ... WHY?



So I'm shifting and trying not to listen to whatever is going on, but I don't have any options. It's just me, the books and Miss "WHY" on the phone. I can't go anywhere else, because my work is there. There's no mistaking that this woman is not alone on the floor alone as I'm not being particularly quiet.



"But why? Just tell me why! If you don't love me tell me why!!"



Oh. My. Goodness. It's a breakup call. On the phone. In a library lobby. Where everybody can hear. Now all I can think of is, WHY? Why would anyone execute a breakup call on a public pay phone, without benefit of slidy glass privacy doors and a pre-formed plastic triangle bench designed for your comfort? Even worse, why would anyone make this call in public knowing you are the breakup-ee, not the breakup-er? WHY?



This phone call went on for a good half-hour and never varied from the text above. I was ready to come out from the shelving, grab the phone, hang it up, and then give this woman some money to buy some self-respect. I mean really -- if you're going to grovel, do it in private.



And then, go see a movie.

Things I Don't Understand

From the GreenTuna Files of "Things I Don't Understand"

1. New Movie: Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid (2004)
I must admit that I don't understand this on a number of levels. Evidently The Powers That Be consider this film to be a sequel to that 1997 stinkeroo, Anaconda that flopped as badly as a snake could possibly flop. The acting was off the charts, Velveeta-ly speaking, the goofs (waterfalls flowing UP?) were legendary, and the writing found in the reviews ('Anaconda' is as stupid as movies nowadays come...it is hard to respect a movie, when, in the end, after all the chaos and destruction it has caused, I felt sorry for the snake's suffering) slithered laps around the actual script.

So, why is Sony making another go of killer snake cinema? Do they feel the first attempt didn't completely tell the story? Do they think they can improve on the artistic powers that were Jon Voigt, Ice Cube and J-Lo? Are they ready to right all the cinematic wrongs from seven years ago? Well, considering Blood Orchid takes place in Indonesia, and all the flora and fauna shown in the trailer are native to South America, I'm thinking it's not going to happen. In addition, the 2004 Anaconda is a new and improved model, able to travel 150 feet per second. Unless it is equipped with warp drive, or shot out of a cannon, I may not be able to overcome the suspension of belief. Even Disney had enough sense to know that if an elephant was going to fly, it had better be animated and come with a magic feather.

2. Jane Pauley and Tony Danza
New for Fall 2004. Jane Pauley and Tony Danza are each getting their own talk show. Why, God, Why?? Have you not made my people suffer enough? We have endured the plagues of Jerry Springer and Jenny Jones, of Maury Povich and Rikki Lake, of Sharon Osborne and Rosie and Ellen and Oprah and Dr. Phil. Lord, our legislature appears to be powerless to control this beast. Please, give the universe a break, Mmmkay?

3. Public Phone Calls for Private Business
I work in a library. Although it is a University Library, we are a land-grant institution, which means we love all members of our community, big and small, sane and insane, bathed and...well, you get the idea. Up here on the fourth floor of heaven, there is a public telephone by the book stacks. The book stacks with SHIFTING IN PROGRESS, PEOPLE. Yesterday when I was out in the stacks, sweating, shifting, shlumpfing and slamming books onto the empty shelves, I could clearly hear someone talking on the pay phone, right around the corner.

"But why? WHY? .... Yeah, but WHY? Just tell me WHY! ... Why? ... ... WHY?

So I'm shifting and trying not to listen to whatever is going on, but I don't have any options. It's just me, the books and Miss "WHY" on the phone. I can't go anywhere else, because my work is there. There's no mistaking that this woman is not alone on the floor alone as I'm not being particularly quiet.

"But why? Just tell me why! If you don't love me tell me why!!"

Oh. My. Goodness. It's a breakup call. On the phone. In a library lobby. Where everybody can hear. Now all I can think of is, WHY? Why would anyone execute a breakup call on a public pay phone, without benefit of slidy glass privacy doors and a pre-formed plastic triangle bench designed for your comfort? Even worse, why would anyone make this call in public knowing you are the breakup-ee, not the breakup-er? WHY?

This phone call went on for a good half-hour and never varied from the text above. I was ready to come out from the shelving, grab the phone, hang it up, and then give this woman some money to buy some self-respect. I mean really -- if you're going to grovel, do it in private.

And then, go see a movie.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Lessons from the Garden

The saying goes, "First it sleeps, then it creeps, then it leaps."



This is meant to explain how perennials will grow when you plant them in a garden. No growth, a little growth, and then growth.



I don't think any of the plants I've ever planted have heard this saying. More often than not, they employ the strategy, "First it looks like it had died. Then, as soon as you go out and buy another one because you think the first one is dead, the first one pokes out two tiny leaves in that 'made you look' kind of way. Then it grows so big, it knocks on the door demanding supper."



Over the weekend, I spent a fair amount of time working outside. My name was Mows with a Toro, or would have been, if I actually had a Toro. Technically, I was Mows with the power mower of dubious origin. Nicknames aside, I mowed, weed-whacked, watered and swept. It was a (CAPS LOCK, LEANED OVER) LONG afternoon.



Whenever I needed a break, I headed for my favorite backyard spot -- the swing. At the moment it is prime swinging time since the grapes planted directly behind it are perfect for snacking. So I parked myself on the bench and proceeded to swing and munch while I took a break from the heat of the day.



The swing affords an interesting view of the back yard. There are ornamental grasses beginning to tassel, and the hibiscus are in bloom. The ivy is busy pushing its way up the house and across the way I see the ring of begonias that TinyTuna planted earlier this spring. Even the giant marsh mallow plant brought all the way back from the furthest reaches of the Upper Peninsula (eh?) is beautiful; swaying in the breeze while countless bees fly from flower to flower to flower.



The view, however, is not entirely idyllic. Across the yard is the flower bed that suffered greatly from nearly eleven inches of rain in a single month. In the back yard are beds that were meant for tomatos, squash, green beans and pumpkins. This year they were not cleaned out and improved, so I'm stuck with a bumper crops of dandelions, thistles and goldenrod. I don't have to look far to see days and days of work and lots of unfinished projects.



As I sat on the swing this weekend, trying not to be depressed by what had been left undone, the pussy willow bush (tree? bush, I guess) caught my eye. It was hard not to notice it, because that which was solidly in the "I'm dead" category two years ago, was now (along with its decoy replacement friend) taller than the garage.



It had thrived, despite a cold, tough winter, an overly dry April, and a May that only an ark-builder could love. It had thrived, despite absolute neglect on our part. It grew and grew and grew, even when it's back was against the wall. Now the uppermost branches were a good foot above the bricks and were free to sway gently in the breeze.



I don't know why, but every time I looked at this silly bush, I chuckled. Some plants needs so much time and attention (those are the ones that die first in my world), and here was this poor, ignored Pussy Willow that was now King of the Garden. I'm telling you, if plants could be "happy" -- this one was.



It didn't require special feeding or spraying or mulching. It didn't even mind being up against a wall; it used the bricks for warmth. It wasn't bothered by the mint or the dandelions that got pushier as the days grew longer. It may be just a bush -- and a weed-like bush at that -- but it was pretty darn smart. It took all that was given and found all that was needed. With no excuses and no special attention, it did just fine. In fact, it did better than fine. It thrived.



Point taken.