Thank you, alert and informed readers.
* Shiver *
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
What a tragedy it is...
...that I don't know what a Hamlet is.
My former elementary school is in the "Hamlet" of Maine, NY.
My in-laws own a cabin in the Hamlet of Woodgate, NY.
I think a Hamlet is something in between a village and a town.
But, I don't know for sure.
So, alert readers, please inform me! Because I have to go expensive restaurant bars or go to my Dad's house to get on the internet here and my opportunties for googling stuff is so limited...
To be a Hamlet or not to be a Hamlet, that is the question!
My former elementary school is in the "Hamlet" of Maine, NY.
My in-laws own a cabin in the Hamlet of Woodgate, NY.
I think a Hamlet is something in between a village and a town.
But, I don't know for sure.
So, alert readers, please inform me! Because I have to go expensive restaurant bars or go to my Dad's house to get on the internet here and my opportunties for googling stuff is so limited...
To be a Hamlet or not to be a Hamlet, that is the question!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Humor me please...
I added the penny to show how big it is. I thought it was an immature pine cone until I tossed a pebble at it and it moved!
* shiver *
It's as big as a...
It looks like a...
All I can say is...my plans to retire in the country seem to fade a bit every day.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Frog Blog
My eight year old is such a sweetie pie. I know all parents say that about their kids. But, in this case it is very true. She says and does some of the kindest, most innocent things and I just know all of that is about to be soon interrupted when the world finally sinks its evil fangs into her.
While on vacation, she has become an expert in the field of frog catching. She stores them in this little plastic aquarium container her grandparents gave her. Through vast experimentation, we have learned that the frogs die if they stay in the container too long. So, the standing rule is that once apprehended, all frogs are only allowed to stay until the next morning. Then, they are to be released on their own froggy recognizance.
Today, she caught two frogs. She immediately named them both. One was named “Wartz” (it was my idea to add the “z” for pizzazz) and the other “Squirt”. Being the consummate sweetheart, she immediately donated Squirt to her little sister who during the frog catching times, generally fails miserably and gets pissed off. She was very pleased with Wartz and Squirt and was enjoying their company.
Then, it was time for us to go to the park so her mother could run and I could feed the bugs. She asked if Wartz and Squirt could come along. I reluctantly said yes, envisioning some disaster like the container toppling over in the car or something.
At the park, there’s another creek that is bigger and inhabited by ducks. When we arrived, my daughter had an idea:
“Daddy, can we release Wartz and Squirt in this creek so they will have a bigger and nicer home?”
“Sure”, I said figuring someday she’ll live in the suburbs and need to understand this mentality. I also figured we’d be getting rid of a liability.
She then emptied the container into the creek. And Wartz and Squirt swam away. And, there was much rejoicing. Yay!
Meanwhile, my daughters were temporarily distracted by the ducks. I watched Wartz swim away…
…and then, he was immediately chased down and eaten by a duck.
“Ducks eat Frogs?” I thought to myself. I guess I should have paid better attention in biology class. I thought ducks were herbivores.
Two seconds later:
“Daddy, where did Wartz swim to?” My daughter asked.
“Ummm…just over there. I think he found a new home!” I lied.
Later on that night, she kept commenting about how happy Wartz must be in his new home.
So, I told her “Wartz is Dead!”
Just kidding.
But. it made me think about how sometimes you have to shelter the ones you love from the truth about the world we live in, a world so cruel poor little Wartz wasn't allowed to enjoy his new bigger and better home...
...until he was abruptly turned into duck poop.
It makes you wonder.
I drank a couple of beers while writing this.
Bye.
While on vacation, she has become an expert in the field of frog catching. She stores them in this little plastic aquarium container her grandparents gave her. Through vast experimentation, we have learned that the frogs die if they stay in the container too long. So, the standing rule is that once apprehended, all frogs are only allowed to stay until the next morning. Then, they are to be released on their own froggy recognizance.
Today, she caught two frogs. She immediately named them both. One was named “Wartz” (it was my idea to add the “z” for pizzazz) and the other “Squirt”. Being the consummate sweetheart, she immediately donated Squirt to her little sister who during the frog catching times, generally fails miserably and gets pissed off. She was very pleased with Wartz and Squirt and was enjoying their company.
Then, it was time for us to go to the park so her mother could run and I could feed the bugs. She asked if Wartz and Squirt could come along. I reluctantly said yes, envisioning some disaster like the container toppling over in the car or something.
At the park, there’s another creek that is bigger and inhabited by ducks. When we arrived, my daughter had an idea:
“Daddy, can we release Wartz and Squirt in this creek so they will have a bigger and nicer home?”
“Sure”, I said figuring someday she’ll live in the suburbs and need to understand this mentality. I also figured we’d be getting rid of a liability.
She then emptied the container into the creek. And Wartz and Squirt swam away. And, there was much rejoicing. Yay!
Meanwhile, my daughters were temporarily distracted by the ducks. I watched Wartz swim away…
…and then, he was immediately chased down and eaten by a duck.
“Ducks eat Frogs?” I thought to myself. I guess I should have paid better attention in biology class. I thought ducks were herbivores.
Two seconds later:
“Daddy, where did Wartz swim to?” My daughter asked.
“Ummm…just over there. I think he found a new home!” I lied.
Later on that night, she kept commenting about how happy Wartz must be in his new home.
So, I told her “Wartz is Dead!”
Just kidding.
But. it made me think about how sometimes you have to shelter the ones you love from the truth about the world we live in, a world so cruel poor little Wartz wasn't allowed to enjoy his new bigger and better home...
...until he was abruptly turned into duck poop.
It makes you wonder.
I drank a couple of beers while writing this.
Bye.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Txt msg blg
If U can read ths, U spk txt msg.
Dat means U R txt msging so much, U R expctatns of gramr have dminshd to the pt. where U R not expcting vowls in ordr to save time or $.
Oops, I jst usd 2 vwls. LOL!
BUT, As lng as U can stll read nrml englsh, U B O K.
TTFN!
MJC
Dat means U R txt msging so much, U R expctatns of gramr have dminshd to the pt. where U R not expcting vowls in ordr to save time or $.
Oops, I jst usd 2 vwls. LOL!
BUT, As lng as U can stll read nrml englsh, U B O K.
TTFN!
MJC
Friday, August 1, 2008
Why I am glad I like obscure music
Tonight, I met some dear friends at SPAC and saw The Police live.
Please don't read this wrong. When I was a young teennage lad in the 80's, I listened to the Zenyatta Mondatta album so much I wore my cassette tape out. I think Sting is a great bassist who has a great voice. Andy Summers can still grind the axe and Stewart Copeland is an awesome drummer.
So, I love me some Po Po. And, that's not my point.
When I got to SPAC, it took me 30 minutes to park, another 30 minutes to buy a beer that cost 11 dollars. Then, I could only drink it in the "beer garden" area where ostensibly the beers are grown and people are treated like caged, drunken animals. Then, after numerous text messages, I located my buddy Jamie and pushed and shoved my way through 20,000+ people to where he had a couple of blankets under a foot passenger bridge. Here, we watched the show from the lawn seat area. From this location, I could see a half of a big screen and about half of the stage which was easily a football field away. We chose to leave early and we had to push and shove our way through the huge mass of people jammed together like sardines in lawnchairs. They were getting pissed at our intrusion upon their experience of the Sting TV show and their personal space.
I told them Jamie's dad just was having a heart attack and this helped.
Oh yeah...my ticket cost $47, by the way. $54 after TicketMonster did its damage.
They sounded good and played a lot of my faves; Demolition Man, Driven to Tears and When the World Is Running Down, You Make the Best of What's Still Around. Why does one my favorite songs have to have such a long title which makes it so cumbersome to type?
Good time though.
But, why do we like popular music so much?
Maybe because it's familiar. In the 80's we had these things called "radios". These devices reminds played this kind of music when we were in our cars on a beautiful summer day after you aced that job interview or when your girlfriend just dumped you, blah blah blah...
So, please, let's all become more familiar with music that hasn't engrained itself so deeply in pop culture.
Why?
Well, because it's just as good and accessible! Back in spring, I saw The Toasters at Poison Room with maybe 200 people. My ticket was $12. I drank as much beer as I wanted and stood right in front of the stage. I bought the band a round of beers. I had a chat with the singer/guitarist afterward. I had my picture taken with said singer guitarist. I bought a T-shirt with a cool design for $12.
I was so overwhelmed, I had to sleep in my car for a while.
And drunk. Overwhelmed and drunk.
There wasn't a beer garden. If there was, I harvested a lot of it that night.
My point is; The Toasters might not be as talented as The Police. But, they're damn close. Actually, I think they are and their timing just isn't as favorable as it was for some bands.
Artists like this also need your financial support wayyyyyy more than the Sting TV show does.
So, locate the small clubs around your vicinity and flip your stubs at TicketMonster.
Please?
November 20th: The Toasters at Mad Hatter in Covington.
Let's all go?
Good night. I'm very sober tonight.
Thanks to the beer garden.
Please don't read this wrong. When I was a young teennage lad in the 80's, I listened to the Zenyatta Mondatta album so much I wore my cassette tape out. I think Sting is a great bassist who has a great voice. Andy Summers can still grind the axe and Stewart Copeland is an awesome drummer.
So, I love me some Po Po. And, that's not my point.
When I got to SPAC, it took me 30 minutes to park, another 30 minutes to buy a beer that cost 11 dollars. Then, I could only drink it in the "beer garden" area where ostensibly the beers are grown and people are treated like caged, drunken animals. Then, after numerous text messages, I located my buddy Jamie and pushed and shoved my way through 20,000+ people to where he had a couple of blankets under a foot passenger bridge. Here, we watched the show from the lawn seat area. From this location, I could see a half of a big screen and about half of the stage which was easily a football field away. We chose to leave early and we had to push and shove our way through the huge mass of people jammed together like sardines in lawnchairs. They were getting pissed at our intrusion upon their experience of the Sting TV show and their personal space.
I told them Jamie's dad just was having a heart attack and this helped.
Oh yeah...my ticket cost $47, by the way. $54 after TicketMonster did its damage.
They sounded good and played a lot of my faves; Demolition Man, Driven to Tears and When the World Is Running Down, You Make the Best of What's Still Around. Why does one my favorite songs have to have such a long title which makes it so cumbersome to type?
Good time though.
But, why do we like popular music so much?
Maybe because it's familiar. In the 80's we had these things called "radios". These devices reminds played this kind of music when we were in our cars on a beautiful summer day after you aced that job interview or when your girlfriend just dumped you, blah blah blah...
So, please, let's all become more familiar with music that hasn't engrained itself so deeply in pop culture.
Why?
Well, because it's just as good and accessible! Back in spring, I saw The Toasters at Poison Room with maybe 200 people. My ticket was $12. I drank as much beer as I wanted and stood right in front of the stage. I bought the band a round of beers. I had a chat with the singer/guitarist afterward. I had my picture taken with said singer guitarist. I bought a T-shirt with a cool design for $12.
I was so overwhelmed, I had to sleep in my car for a while.
And drunk. Overwhelmed and drunk.
There wasn't a beer garden. If there was, I harvested a lot of it that night.
My point is; The Toasters might not be as talented as The Police. But, they're damn close. Actually, I think they are and their timing just isn't as favorable as it was for some bands.
Artists like this also need your financial support wayyyyyy more than the Sting TV show does.
So, locate the small clubs around your vicinity and flip your stubs at TicketMonster.
Please?
November 20th: The Toasters at Mad Hatter in Covington.
Let's all go?
Good night. I'm very sober tonight.
Thanks to the beer garden.
Sign Language
Hi.
I'm on vacation.
In Newark Valley, NY.
Tourism is becoming more prevalent in Newark Valley, now attracting 4 visitors per year.
Us.
Whelp, every year, I have this sort of tradition when I visit NY. I locate and change the letters on a marquis sign to read something funny. This is serious business. Actually, no it isn't.
Some of my past works of art include:
Visions Credit Union: Come in for a free anal probe
Kil Kare Speedway: Our undies have skidd marks
Newark Valley High School: Big jugs receive an A
But over the years, I have developed a code of ethics:
Rule #1: Never hit the same sign more than once.
Rule #2: Never change the letters around to read anything extremely vulgar.
Rule #3: Never get caught and arrested.
Rule #4: Change signs far away from Dayton, OH so if rule #3 is violated, my boss never finds out.
This year is Slim Pickens. Not the country singer. I mean there's not much to choose from.
Right in town there's a diner with a sign that reads "Experience Cook Wanted". I think signs that are already misspelled deserve special attention.
So, what can "Experience Cook Wanted" become? The possibilities are limitless.
Now is your time to submit input. Yeah, I could replace an "O" with a "C" and be done. But that would slightly violate rule #2 and just seem too damn...easy.
I do have standards, ya know...
Bye.
I'm on vacation.
In Newark Valley, NY.
Tourism is becoming more prevalent in Newark Valley, now attracting 4 visitors per year.
Us.
Whelp, every year, I have this sort of tradition when I visit NY. I locate and change the letters on a marquis sign to read something funny. This is serious business. Actually, no it isn't.
Some of my past works of art include:
Visions Credit Union: Come in for a free anal probe
Kil Kare Speedway: Our undies have skidd marks
Newark Valley High School: Big jugs receive an A
But over the years, I have developed a code of ethics:
Rule #1: Never hit the same sign more than once.
Rule #2: Never change the letters around to read anything extremely vulgar.
Rule #3: Never get caught and arrested.
Rule #4: Change signs far away from Dayton, OH so if rule #3 is violated, my boss never finds out.
This year is Slim Pickens. Not the country singer. I mean there's not much to choose from.
Right in town there's a diner with a sign that reads "Experience Cook Wanted". I think signs that are already misspelled deserve special attention.
So, what can "Experience Cook Wanted" become? The possibilities are limitless.
Now is your time to submit input. Yeah, I could replace an "O" with a "C" and be done. But that would slightly violate rule #2 and just seem too damn...easy.
I do have standards, ya know...
Bye.
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