I'll save you Nell!

That's right people.  It's a dog with a mustache.  I recently saw this picture on the wall at the post office  in the "Wanted" section.  Seems Dasher here held up the Chuck Wagon and is an armed and wanted hound.  OK, none of that's true, but for only $10, you too can have a dog that can impersonate Snidely Whiplash:

I don't know why it makes me laugh, but it just does.  Maybe because it's just so wrong.  But then again so are those dog antlers and I can't stand those.  So why does the mustache humor me so? Maybe it's because I liked cartoons as a kid.  Maybe it's because it's just so ridiculous.  Or maybe it's just because a curly mustache is just funny.  I don't know.  But I do know that if your dog has one of these I'd be wary of him.  Just keep a keen eye out for any maidens tied to railroad tracks in the area.  If there happens to be one, I can venture a guess who has tied her up.

Actually, I never got that.  Why did he always delight in tying up a girl and laying her on railroad tracks?  To what end does that serve?  I guess he's just... evil.  (Da-da-dun!)  If you're just evil, you don't need any sound reasoning or logic.  Why?  Because you're, (da-da-dun!) evil.

OK, the dog mustache isn't really anything to worry about.  It's in fact a silly dog toy.  The mustache isn't attached to the dog in any way.  There is a ball on the back that the dog will eagerly hold in it's mouth, providing you photo-ops and hours of laughs.  

If faux facial hair isn't you're idea of doggie hijinks's, they also make a comically long tongue.  Also $10.

http://www.uncommongoods.com/product/silly-dog-toys-mustache-giant-tongue

Oh wow.. what a surprise... the Salvation Army has a gold coin

I was wondering how long it would take, but it's finally here.  Snow? The bowl season? Uncle John getting drunk and flashing his in-laws?  Nope, it's that other holiday tradition.  The annual "fake" dropping of a gold coin in a Salvation Army kettle.  This year it comes courtesy of, drum roll please, a bucket outside of a Sam's Club in Kansas City.  Really? Sam's Club?  If you have enough gold coins that you can just toss one away, are you really shopping at Sam's Club? Somethings fishy in a place known for their BBQ, not tartar sauce.

Every year secretly someone drops a gold coin in one of their uber-annoying bell ringers kettles.  And every year the media eats it up.  C'mon. Seriously, this has been going on since I was a kid and I'm now 40.  I'm sorry, but I just don't buy what the stinky ringers are selling.

How many people out there have gold coins?  Of those how many are waiting till Christmas to donate them?  Of those how many are willing to donate them and not get the tax write off?  Call me cynical,  but I don't see that the pool of people who fit into that demographic either being that large to begin with, nor do I see them all being so charitable.

So how can this keep happening?  Easy.  The top brass of this so-called army just sends the same 2 coins around every year and has one of their, let's call them undercover, people generously drop them in a random kettle.  (I bet that whomever drops them off quietly waits within sight of the kettle until it's picked up at the end of the day.)  Then the local "general" collects the buckets, dumps them out and has a "what do we have here" moment!  A few calls are placed to local media.  A press release is sent out and voila, your annual "story" of some good natured soul makes headlines.

Seriously, enough already.  Can't you just get on your local newscasts and make your reminder pitch?  All local news agencies are looking for a human interest story.  Show how your efforts helped some destitute family the previous year and contributions will come.  I just can't be beaten in the head with another bogus story of Spanish doubloons suddenly falling from the sky.  It was cute. It was quirky back in the 1980's.  It's 2010 people.  I'm not believing that it's a copycat deal anymore.  In fact when I see that they got gold pieces it makes me think, "well they obviously don't need my money."

I'm not saying that they're a bad organization.  Nor am I requesting them to stop ringing the dang bells.  All I'm asking for is for them to get a new act... or at least a one year hiatus so make everyone feel bad the following year.

Bear Down, Warm Up

Ah, the good ole' days.  The '85 Bears shellacking of the Patriots in Superbowl XX, 46-10.   Good times, good times.  The Bears were lead by hall-of-famers Walter Payton, Dan Hampton and Mike Singletary.  Then there was the Fridge, Mongo, the Hitman, Mama's Boy Otis, Hilge, Mad Mac and the Colonel.  Everyone on the '85 Bears had a nickname and everyone had a wild personality. It's not often that teams of that caliber come together and keep it together for an entire season without imploding.  Even the Coach had his style.  (Note that it's not "da" only because that's a tired cleche' that needs to be put to death.  Seriously, I'm from Chicago and never once uttered the the idiotic phrase "da" for any reason.  It's lame, it's annoying and it's just not funny anymore; kind of like Steve Martin and Jim Belushi.)

This Sunday has the makings for another classic Bears and Patriots match up.  The weather should be in the low 20's, before windchill.  The winds are always unpredictable coming off the lake.  One year the Bears were trying to kick and the winds were so strong, that the ball literally went off the kickers foot and was blown right to the sidelines without traveling forward.  Sure punters sometimes muff the punt off the side of their foot, but this was a kickoff.  One year they had fog so thick that the announcers could barely call the game.  There's no worry of fog this Sunday, only snow... and hopefully lots of it.  Not that that's an advantage for the Bears, it's just I want to see them play in the snow.

There's been talk all week about numbers and rankings.  How each team compares in this match up and that.  Who has the advantage when it comes to the sod in Soldier, and who has the hotter wife.  It's all crap.  If that stuff really mattered then the Browns wouldn't have beaten the Pats earlier this year.  It all comes down to playing to your strengths and not letting egos get in the way.  If Martz keeps his play calling the way he has since the bye week, the Bears have a great chance.  If the defense doesn't play like they did against the Lions (sure it's tough to get up for a team that hasn't beaten a divisional opponent in 19 tries, but that's no excuse), then they should slow down the prolific scorers.  Special teams, no question, the Bears are stronger. Then there's the 4th phase, the fans. Tailgating will commence at 7AM with a 3:30 kickoff, making the fans nice and lubricated and ready to let the Pat's know what they think about their three championships.  There is always some idiot fan in a visiting team jersey who gets highlighted on TV.  I'm just hoping that whomever it is is shown sitting on his hands in dejection.

The best part about this game is that the Bears are underdogs in their own stadium.  No one gives them a chance to pull this out... which is exactly why they should.  They've felt abused and disrespected all year and are out to prove that Philly wasn't an accident.  They're angry, they're hungry and best of all, they're not overconfident.

Dollar stores rock

When I first moved from Syracuse NY to sunny South Florida I discovered that I was in need of a few misplaced items.  Nothing too serious.  Just silverware, cups, things like that.  The thought about having to actually shop for such mundane things made the time from discovery to actual purchase quite a while. I had a plastic takeout fork, knife, spoon combo pack that came complete with a napkin and a salt/pepper  one-hitter.  The napkin didn't last very long, but I got a lot of mileage out of the plastic cutlery.  This was until one sad moment when both the fork and the spoon broke during the same meal.  Sure I could have just gotten more take out, but there comes a time in ones life when you just have to move out of the trailer.  Even if it's just proverbially. 

On the way home from work the next day I passed the one store where I was going to get what I needed.  Looking over my shoulder, I saw the parking lot was overflowing and knew that I didn't have the patience to wait in line for 1 fork, 1 knife and 1 spoon.  I just couldn't justify it.  So after I turned my head back forward and narrowly avoiding slamming into a car... oops, sorry... I found myself waiting at a stoplight.  Casually I glanced around and what did I see?  Why it was a local dollar store.  They say everything is a dollar, but that's just a lie.  

I pulled in to the empty lot and strolled right in.  The rather nice lady behind the counter said hello and asked if I needed any assistance.  I inquired as to if they sold cutlery she smiled, said yes and pointed me in the right direction.  I grabbed 1 fork, 1 knife, 1 teaspoon and 1 table spoon.  Glancing around I saw a cheap pot, and I do mean cheap in every sense of the word.  But after dumping all my money into a down payment on the condo, cheap was calling my name. 

I took my new items to the register and she smiled again and said, "this is all you need?"  

"Yup," I replied.  "I live alone and don't have time to have anyone over, so why get more than I need?"

She shrugged and was trying to formulate what she was going to say next, but I cut her off as she was struggling. 

"Besides, this way I have to wash my dishes right away."

This satisfied her and though she didn't say it, I could sense that she wished that she had it that easy as well.  

I took my items and left.  A new fan of the dollar store and it's ridiculously low quality items.  The pot lasted about a year before it just couldn't be salvaged.  The fork, knife and spoons live on though... much to the dismay of my wife as I slipped them into the drawer with her complete set when we bought the house.  

I still joke to my wife about wanting to go into any dollar store that we go by.  She always elects to pass. But, with my latest discovery, I may have a new argument.

Nothing says class like having to dress up to go to that uppity old Wal-Mart!

Shopping season

It's the most annoying time of the year...

Actually, I love the holidays, but I hate shopping.  That's why I give thanks every day for the Internet.  There are no lines.  No annoying customers who don't know what they want, randomly wandering around getting in the way.  No over sized carts plugging up narrow aisles to block your path.   There's just me and a faceless, non judgemental screen. It's bliss.

I have been doing all my Christmas shopping for years on the Internet.   So why people still cram themselves into stores on black Friday at 2AM, for the chance to get a crappy TV at half price is beyond me.  Doesn't everyone know that the so-called specials are only used as a way to get people in to the stores?  They are only allotted 2 to 5 of the "specially" priced items and then the rest are full price, better quality items.  It's amazing just how gullible some people are.

But whatever.  If you like fighting with strangers over something that typically the recipient gets and gives a fake "oh... thanks" to, so be it.  Nothing is more depressing/ annoying to me than going through all the hassle of finding something to give as a gift.  Then you finally find an item you think they'll love and they won't understand how they lived life without it.  However, just as you go to get said item, someone elbows your ribs without ever getting an apology.  Immediately after, someone else's cart rams into your Achilles tendon, as they're on their damn cell phone talking about last night's Dancing with the Morons.  Next, you get sneezed on by another passing by, and when you grab the object of your hunt you find that someone else had previously fondled it after a stop at fatburger.  Why? Because they left a greasy slick behind on the packaging.  Still you endure, get the item home, wrapped and ultimately presented.  Their response?  A rather lack luster... "thanks," before throwing it onto the pile and grabbing the next present.  Yeah, you think to yourself, "it's all worth it," as you slug another shot of Jack Daniels.

That's why I like shopping online.  I put hardly any effort in, so when the recipient opens it and looks nonchalantly at it, I can sit back and smile.   My ribs aren't bruised.  I didn't get sneezed on, and the best part... no grease on my hands.  Happy holidays.

Oops

When it comes to contests, buyer beware.

A waitress at Hooters entered a restaurant held promotion a while back.  It was a pretty good idea... in theory, by her particular chain location.  "How can we increase sales?"  I'm sure there was a "think-tank," a round table discussion, a lot of bickering over who had the best idea.  Finally after a lot of sleepless nights they finally agreed on having a contest.

Not a bad idea.

In fact when you think about it, it was actually a pretty simple idea.  The waitress who had the best beer sales for a designated period of time would win a brand spanking new Toyota.  Wow! Nice prize!  (Sure put all your overblown, cliched brake jokes here), but honestly, think about it.  What do you do? You wear skimpy outfits, serve so/so food and hock beer as you jiggle your boobs to drunken morons who come just to ogle you.  It's a natural.  The more you smile, flirt and jiggle, the more beer you sell.  It's a contest where everyone wins!

Right?

Well unfortunately this isn't a Will Ferrell movie.  This is real life.  And sadly in real life there's always a catch.  So what's the catch?  Let me guess.

The Toyota is a matchbox car!
No?

The Toyota is a model!
No?

The Toyota is a RC racer?
Nope?  Out of guesses?  Just take a look below.

Yeah, that's right.  It's a Toy Yoda.

Ouch.  Good luck with that lawsuit.

Bear Down Chicago Bears!!!

Living in South Florida but having grown up in Chicago made the Bears @ Dolphins game last night all the more sweet.  When I moved down in 2003 all I heard was "why are you routing for ... you live in Florida now."  Really?  I was born in Chicago, lived there basically till I left for grad school and now I'm just supposed to give up my allegiances?   Their replies were always the same, "Yeah. You live here now. You should have to root for our teams."  Nice logic, but teams suck.

Granted Chicago has fielded some of the worst teams in their respected sports during my life time, but there were the '85 Bears, '05 Sox, '10 Blackhawks  and of course the 6-pack that Jordan gave the city.  And two championships by the Sting in the now defunct North American Soccer League.  That's really not that bad when it comes to championships.  When I first moved here the Cubs and Marlins were going head to head for the NLCS.  If it weren't for some bad pitching mistakes, those idiots could have possibly ended 90+ years of futility.  But no.  Let's all blame some nerd who really didn't even touch a  ball for cursing the team.  Heck it was really Pat Looney; a Chicago firefighter who went running for the firehouse across the street for safety, leaving Bartman to be the goat.

I spent a lot of great afternoons out in the $3.00 bleachers at Wrigley.  I talked to the late great Harry Carey one drunken afternoon there too.  Heck, I even saw him personally carry 2 cases of Bud up the old stairs to the broadcast booth one afternoon that I should have still been at school.  Now my Floridian friends are all demanding I just forsake my time spent at Wrigley, Soldier, Comiskey and the old Stadium just because I have a different zip code.  If that's not being fickle I don't know what is.

I can see their point for wanting more fans though, as Florida is a transient state.  With all the people coming and going it's tough to get a solid fan base to fill the stadiums.  Of course the "die-hard" Marlin fans that were all enjoying the Cubs futility that year never filled their stadium again after that.  So much for their fandom.

I would always counter the argument with, "So if you moved, you wouldn't be a Dolphins/ whatever fan any more?"  Of course to drive home their point they'd all answer along the lines of, "Yeah.  Wherever you are, you should be a fan of the local teams."  Let's let that soak in a minute... OK... What a load of *^&#!  To counter them I offered, "OK, so let's say that for whatever reason, let's say a family member needs long term, like life long medical attention and it can only be received in say Boston, or New York.  And for whatever reason you feel that you absolutely had to be there.  There is no getting out of it. It wouldn't even occur to you that moving there for the rest of your life wasn't an option... you'd give up your Dolphin jersey and become a Pat's or duh-duh-duh... a JETS fan?"

Let's let that stew for a few moments shall we?  What would you do?  Hum..... According to you, by your rules you'd have to be a JETS fan!  J-E-T-S, JETS! JETS! JETS!  Can you really see yourself doing that?

Some would try to cut me off, "That'll never happen."  "No, you can get health care... blah, blah, blah."  I wouldn't let them avoid the question, but it's funny that none of them ever coped to the fact that they wouldn't give up their fandom.  The best they could do was say, "I'd be a Giants fan."  Yeah right.  All you do is talk about how great the AFC is and how lame the NFC is and now you're going to give that up?  I call shenanigans!

So lets flashback to the '85 Bears again who were one stinking game away from perfection.   One game to finally shut up the stupid Dolphin fans who say there the only team to go undefeated (on a shorter schedule, but they overlook that).  One loss in Miami and all those idiot '72 Dolphins were able to crack their annoying bottle of champagne after the game...  Ironically, had the Bears won that game they would have gone 16-0, which if you're a Dolphin fan you didn't stay up for or left the stadium early to the raucous Bears fans, was the score of last nights game.  Ahh... so much for Miami fandom.  Yeah... I think I'll switch.

When visiting Key West...

Key West has always been one of my favorite places to go.  Sure I wish I could have been there in the early days, before it became the big tourist trap that it became.  But if I could turn back the hands of time, first I'd buy Microsoft, tons of land all along the Florida I.C.W. and the winning ticket for one of those hundred plus million lotto drawings, the week before it was actually won.  Then I'd head down. Since none of that is currently possible... rats... someday, someday.  Since that is still currently only a dream, I have to take modern day KW for what it is.  A drunken, food filled, tourist infested haven for the weirdest of the weird.  In other words, my kind of people. 

If you're planning a visit take time out to look for things like:

 And of course:

That's right... keep your damn snowmobiles out of here!   If you have some change jingling around in your pocket and want to try your luck, let me recommend:

If you are hungry and don't have a seafood allergy, try the conch (pronounced "conk") chowder.  Now everyone in town is going to try to give you their version.  That's just what proprietors do.  Don't get me wrong, I won't begrudge anyone any food concoction down there, but I was steered by a local to one of their favorites.  It's a little place off the beaten path, since 1939, called The Conch Shop.  

There I met the weekend cook and owner, Rita.  Daughter of the original owners and conch chef extraordinaire.  

The bowl of chowder she laid on me knocked my flip flops off.  Her secret recipe is so secret that her own son, a bus boy, doesn't even know how to make it.  All they would share though is that they are the only ones on the island to get their conch from the Bahamas (ironically, the same place where the "Conch" nickname hails from that the keys locals now claim as their very own) every day.  Everyone else gets theirs from the local fish market.  The short boat trip obviously is a nice cruise as they are exceptionally rested and extra tasty after their journey.

The other place to visit is of course Margaritaville.  No, not just because they sell my book (at the entrance, bookshelf, top left), but because you have to take a few minutes to sit at the bar and meet Chris the bartender. 

 Just tell him that it's your first visit, strap yourself in and get ready for the full Key West/ Jimmy Buffett experience.  He's the best bartender in town. And I'm not just saying that because he's (and as he puts it Jimmy) bought me a few drinks in my time.  Not that that hurts of course.

And before you hit the abundant nightlife take in the sunset in Mallory Square.

And keep the tradition alive.  You're supposed to applaud just as the sun slips past the horizon... unlike the putzes we were around recently... jerks...

That concludes our trip for now. Make sure to wave to the web cam on Duval and if you're at Capt. Tony's see if you can find this picture of the ole man.

I hate green

No it's not what you think.  I'm not anti environment or anything like that.  I am a little sick of having it shoved down my throat though.  I had the energy saver bulbs way before they were fashionable.  Not because I was worried about the environment, but because it cut my electric bill in half.  I'm also into appliances that weren't built in 1967 if they are more energy efficient.  The more money I save the happier I am.

No, the green I'm talking about is the way my Rosetta Stone software keeps admonishing me that I'm saying the word wrong.  A while ago I got on a kick to become a better person.  Let me tell you, it's not worth it. It's all just a pain in the ass.  Whomever said that you should be all that you could be never was buzzed by a computer for saying something it perceived as incorrect.

The way Germans say green is very close to its English counterpart.  Grun is the way it's spelled and looks simple enough to pronounce.  However you have to twist your tongue in an almost half pike position, mildly purse your lips and half grunt the word out.  Apparently I can't do it and it's frustrating as hell.

Computer: Der Apfel ist grun.

Me: Der Apfel ist grun.

(BUZZ!)

Me: Der Apfel ist gruuun!

(BUZZ!)

Me: Der Apfel ist gruuuunnnn!

(BUZZ!)

Me: DER (EXPLETIVE) APFEL IS GRUUUUN!!

(BUZZ!)

It's about this time when I want to either punch the screen or toss the laptop out the window.  I've done it before so I know how satisfying it can be.  Long before the movie Office Space scene where they wreak destruction against technology, I was working for the Syracuse Crunch.  I was given an old computer that they no longer wanted.  I quickly figured out why.  After a series of crashes and lost information I borrowed the roof access key from one of the maintenance guys.  Without even asking why I wanted them he tossed over the key.  It shouldn't be that easy, but I'm not going to complain.  

With computer in hand I went up to the roof, made sure no one could get hit with windows based shrapnel, I tossed the unit as far as I could.  Luckily it went right into the empty dumpster and exploded on impact.  It was VERY satisfying and I highly recommend it.

Fortunately for my Mac, I don't have rooftop access while I'm "bettering myself."  I don't know what's the most irritating aspect.

- The fact that I can't say the word properly.

- The fact that the computer is completely without compassion and doesn't let me slide as a real German would.  I mean c'mon, I'm not that far off.

- The fact that it buzzes like I lost on a game show.

- The fact that I use a goofy voice when I get infuriated and more often than not it accepts my response. 

So my quest to better myself has hit a proverbial iceberg in the word "grun."  Just thinking about having to be buzzed repeatedly has made me curtail my pursuit of German mastery.   Maybe I can make a recording of them saying it and I'll just play it back when needed.  Bet they get buzzed too.

Old Joke

Three men walk into a bar.

The fourth one ducked.

The Dr. isn't in

• So far this is how my morning is going:

Except for looking bored waiting for my next customer, I'm overbooked.  Not sure what "vibe" I'm giving off today, but apparently everyone thinks that I'm Lucy in her booth waiting to give out sage advice.  Maybe they just want to bend an ear, but for whatever reason they're flocking to me today.

Let me clarify for those that don't realize this; let me clearly state, I don't care.  Feel free to take a second to let that sink in.  Now if you still are unsure if you fall into this category or somehow managed to get on my, let-it-slide list for the day, here's a rundown.  If you fall into the following, you fall into the "leave me alone" category.  So if you told me that:

1. You told me that a doctor is currently waiting, impatiently for an image to download to a computer and in the process is grumbling at said computer.
2. A short, rotund woman is by your desk and chit-chatting with your co-worker about gasoline. 
3. The cleaning lady keeps putting your garbage can a few inches away from your desk and that's driving you insane!
4. A certain someone is taking all your paperclips.
5. There isn't any air freshener in the restroom.
6. Someone kept putting boxes in your parking spot at your apartment yesterday.
7. The repair guy told you, blah, blah, blah about the x-ray machine.
8. The hospital admin told you blah, blah, blah about some person that the hospital who said blah, blah, blah about blah, blah, blah.
9. The chemical for blah, blah, blah.
10. The blah, blah, blah... can you tell that I'm already shutting down and tuning out?

    you've over stayed your welcome.

It's not that I hate the people I work with, for the most part they're good people.  I could do without the Dr.'s "God" complexes, but it goes with the territory.  What is vexing is that people seem to think that I care.  When did this happen?   More importantly, HOW?  What did I do to screw up?  That's what I need to find out so that I can correct my error.  I can not state this any more clearly than I am right now.  I don't care.  Not only do I not care, I really, honestly, deeply, whole-heartily, and with every fiber, nay atom of my being... i don't care.  Period.  End of discussion.  Of course, if it's something important, yeah I want to know.  But telling me that so and so keeps taking your paperclips doesn't interest me.  Seriously, it doesn't.  But there you are, yet again... yup, you just told me that she did it again.  Why didn't you take my advice and tell her to stop?  Why didn't you just grab a new box of them?  They're EVERYWHERE!  Why?  


Uugh... at least Lucy got paid for having to listen to peoples "problems." 

Dogs can't tell time

I KNOW!!! I was as surprised as you to find that out!

As everyone who doesn't live in that certain area of Indiana where the time never changes knows, this weekend was the annual waste of time.  The day to "fall back" an hour.  Yea! An extra hour of sleep... yeah right.  Tell that to my dog who either doesn't listen when I tell her these things, or pretends not to know.

Sunday morning sure as $hi# she was up at 5:40, but with the time change make that 4:40.  (I think that she has a link in her brain to the atomic clock.)  Not only was she up, but also panting in excitement to get to go out for a long walk.  She was irritated at my less than enthusiastic stance in the matter.  So to get her way, the queen jumped up on the bed, sat down, still panting so much that the bed was shaking.

I'm old enough to remember the creepy "Magic Fingers" that were in the finer rest stop motels along the highways and byways of this great land.  For a quarter you got a few minutes of the bed shaking that was supposed to give the weary traveler a restful and relaxing magic massage.  (Uh-huh.  You can make your own jokes here.  It's just too easy.)  The older the units were, the less they shook. But when you got a good one, it could almost shake you off the bed and onto the disgusting carpet.  Good times, good times.  I call what Largo (my dog) does Magic Fingers as she shakes the bed in varying degrees of seismic activity.

So there we were.  At an impasse so to speak.  The one day of the year I could get an extra hour after staying up way too late watching a rerun of Mystery Science Theater 3000 ( I know! It's an exciting life I've carved out for myself!)  Remember when Saturday nights were about going out, getting drunk and seeing where the winds may blow you?  Yeah, me too.  Now they're about which bad movie to watch.  Growing older kinda sucks.  This was always a great night in college too because of the extra hour.  An extra hour to stay out.  An extra hour to sleep it off until Taco Bell opened.  It was great.  Now it's just an extra hour that the dog doesn't want to have to wait to go pee.  There is some irony in there somewhere, but I just don't have the energy today to look for it.

So there we were, still laying in bed with the dog stationed over me panting.  When this doesn't work she moves on the the next thing in her arsenal.  She licks my face.  She'll continue to do so even when I try to defend myself.  It's a really good thing that she's so darn cute and that's a lot of fun playing with her like that or I'd be really pissed.  If for some reason she wants to take it to the next level, she goes on to her version of water boarding.  She'll hunker over top of me and pant.  Not a big deal, but then comes the drool.   Long, disgusting wet bombs of sticky drool dropping down on my forehead.  This was her m.o. for Sunday.  She knows that with the first drop that she has me and we're going to do what the queen wants to do.

Naturally we were off in a minute and out wandering the empty streets of the neighborhood, marking her territory every few feet.  It's no wonder that all the dogs in the area hate her so much.  The only solace was in the fact that when we were almost home we came across some other schmuck and his dog.  "Your dog can't tell time either, huh" was all he could utter.

Glad that it's just not my dog that gets her way.

Late Late Show

I have a new goal in life. I want to get on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson.  For my money he's the funniest guy on late night TV.  I think the reason I like the show so much is because he runs the show the way I would, loose and informal.  It's not that I'm so narcissistic that I feel like I have so much to offer to the world, it's that he's funny and I think I could play off that and have fun.  So you see I'm in it just for me to have a bunch of laughs.  You'd think his producer would be knocking down my door right now, but as of yet the door is still on its hinges.

Here's my plan to fulfill my dreamy little dreams.... (I know, shoot for the stars).  Until my incessant bothering of agents finally pays off; and by pays off I mean one of them takes me on as a client, I may have to pursue other routes.  Obviously once I get an agent who gets my fabulous book, (Tales From The Conch Republic available on Amazon, see the note on the right) into the hands of a great publisher and that turns into a movie deal it'll be easier to get on the show.  However until this happens I have to take other measures.

The easiest way would be for me to simply get tickets and go to a show.  Heck the tickets are even free.  Problem is that they're in California and I'm not. I'm no geography expert by any means, but my overnight stay in a certain hotel chain has given me the insight that Florida isn't next to California.  That's unless you still have a paper map and fold it just right.  Otherwise it's a bit of a haul.  Of course if I'm out there I'll have to stop by GoWesty and pick up a rebuilt VW Westfalia camper van which I could drive at a comfortable 80 m.p.h. down divorce lane.  But I'd finally realize my other dream of having a vehicle outfitted with its own refrigerator.  (As you can see when I dream, I dream big.)

So what's the next course of action you undoubtedly are asking! Alright, calm down and I'll tell you.

A quick visit to The Late Late Show's website yesterday gave me a revelation.  I can submit an email to the show, which if you watch the show any idiot could of told you.  Especially because he reads emails every night.  So I'm not the brightest bulb in the sandwich drawer, but nevertheless (I never understood why nevertheless is one word.  It's three words jammed together.  If I do that, I get that annoying red spell check line under my word telling me I f*#$%d up again. And believe me, I get that a lot.  So I'd like to know who got away with putting three words together like that and have it stick.  I'd like to shake his hand... If I had to guess, I say it'd be that guy from the Dos Equis commercials.)

Back to my plan.  I have decided to send an email a day until I finally get on the show... even if that means I just start with getting an email read on the show.  My first offering was:

Hey Craig,

I'm at work and I'm bored.  What are you wearing?

I'm thinking my next one will be,

Hey Craig,

I'm at work and I'm bored.  If you can smell that... I'm sorry.

Maybe I'll work a little harder at this... probably not.  But I'll be watching!

I love the news

And Huey Lewis to boot.  No really I'm talking about the news news.  They so often tell us, the uninformed if you will, about things that we would never have understood, guessed or figured out on our own.  For example on various news sources today we are being told that despite the election of so many republicans to office that it hasn't ended the discord between them and President Obama.   Really?  Let's just take a moment to think about that.

No really, I'll wait.

Huh...

Here I thought that with the loss of ultimate power he'd be like, "Aw gosh... schucks... (heavy sigh, hands in pockets, head held low, kicks a pebble) I guess we should let bygones be bygones."  Then he'd pull his hand out of his pocket, shake hands with John Boehner and surprise him with a joy buzzer.  Thus signaling an end to partisan politics.  And we live happily ever after.

Guess I was wrong.  It's a darn good thing that Yahoo news was there to show me the errors of my ways.

What else...

In Zimbabwe a pride of lions killed a man showering in a nature reserve viewing area.  Maybe they were a little more reserved... yeah... that was a terrible joke.  I'm not sure, but if I ever go to Zimbabwe nature reserve, showering isn't going to be my main concern.  I don't care if I'm there for a week, I'd rather put up with my own stink than be caught in a situation where my only defense is one of those fuzzy scrubber balls.

In entertainment news Aretha Franklin was told by doctors to cancel all appearances until May.  Well it wasn't so much doctors as the forklift needed to get her out of the house and to the concerts was too slow to keep her schedule.

"Actor" David Cassidy was arrested for DUI in Florida after police pulled him over for swerving all over the road.  David told police that he had only consumed a 1/2 glass of wine and a pain pill... Apparently "pain pill" to bad sitcom actors of the 70's is a half-empty bottle of bourbon, which was found in the back seat.   He also said that he was tired from attending a funeral... he attended, he didn't actually grab a shovel and dig the grave, but whatever.  He also sent the AP an email to thank family, friends and fans for their love and support... and did so by name... all four of them.

The last, but not least thing I learned from the news today was that Sparky Anderson, long time baseball manager died today.  "Sparky"was the Detroit manager the day the Tigers came to old Comiskey Park for a double header with the White Sox.  July 12, 1979 will forever be remembered for Steve Dahl's Disco Demolition night.  For 98 cents and a disco record you were allowed into the ballpark.  The Sox were 19 1/2 game back and drawing about 5,000 to a game.  However that night there were people literally crawling up the walls trying to get in.   Between games Steve, the commander-in-chief of the Insane Coho Lips anti-disco army blew up most of the record that were brought to the game.  Afterwards a fun-loving riot broke out and Sparky called for the Sox to forfeit the game.  The game was conceded and Sparky said he feared for his life.  Seeing that he in fact passed from dementia, perhaps he was right all along.

It's all over but the shouting

Election day came and went and all we truly have to be thankful for is that the annoying, mud-slinging commercials are gone.  I am proud to say that I did vote and that's pretty much it. I have become jaded to the point where I think they're all egocentric, narcissistic, crooks out to get themselves a bigger piece of the pie.

I remember back to the mock elections we had in grade school.  Everyone was told what each candidate stood for.  We were also given a little background on each of them and told how they got to their current position being eligible for the post.

On election day we formed a single file line, were lead out of class and into the makeshift polling place.  There even was a little curtain we got to close to keep our votes secret.  The next day the real votes were tallied and on a poster board next to the votes from all our different classes.  We discussed who won, who lost and why our votes may have differed from the adult voting public.

Sounds nice. Doesn't it? Almost like something from a Norman Rockwell painting.  It made a believer out of me that the system does work.  That our votes really do make a difference.  That everything was going to be alright.

What a load of crap!  We were snookered!   I want retribution!

In the adult world all you get is a bunch of hoopla about our guy and your guy is a racist devil!  Now there can be no change, even though before when "the right people" were in charge there wasn't any change.  How can you say that? Your people were screwing everything up!  How dare I? My people were being held down by your people.  Your candidate is a crook! Oh yeah? Well yours is a radical. Take that back! No you take it back!

Good God everyone just shut up already.  Talking politics is about as useful as an empty box of kleenex to a person with a runny nose.  All it gets you is frustrated and a wet sleeve.

Someone please take me back to those innocent school days. The days where I actually thought the people in office really cared about us.  The days I thought they actually cared about the job they're doing.  Man oh man was I naive.

Candy day is over

So Halloween came and went and what have I learned? The dog will go nuts with repeated doorbell rings? Nope.  Well aware of that.  That I need to get rid of as much candy as possible so that I don't engorge myself with the left overs? Um, no.  Is it that teenagers are typically surly asses who come without costumes and try to intimidate candy out of you?  Nope, already knew that too.

I still think Larry David had it right in the episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where he doesn't give so said teenagers candy solely on principal.  Yeah, they get their revenge, but so what.  They still didn't get the candy, had to waste money, time and the worst thing a teenager can ever give up, effort to get their revenge.

Last night after a meager fifteen or so kids came and went, I was ready to pack it in and call it a Halloween. Pretty pathetic numbers after last year where we were probably fifty to sixty deep of booger eaters.  Just before the lights went out there came the ring.  As soon as it came (just around 9) I knew that it was my Larry David moment.  Sure enough.  As I opened the door there they were.  Four teenagers in normal clothes, backpacks worn on their chests, surly as all hell.  Not even a "trick or treat."

I was at a crossroads.  Do I really care?  No, but there is part of my brain saying, "screw them."  I'm not fearing them to do any damage to my house.  I could easily catch any of them and when they saw my dog they were a little standoffish.  So what should I do?  Just give them candy? Let them succeed by rewarding their effort of doing the very least?  Is that really the message I want to impart to the youth of America?  Can I go to bed tonight knowing that I didn't use this as a teaching moment?

Or should I gather the youth of today, sit them down and explain how a good honest effort, a little creativity and yes, maybe even a little elbow grease will make their reward all the more satisfying.  Would I sleep better knowing that I did what their own parents have given up on; dispensing a little tough love?

So I made my decision.  I looked them square in the eyes, smiled and dumped handfuls of candy in their bags and told them to have a great night.

So what I learned from Halloween this year was that I hate other peoples kids and really don't care if they learn anything or not. Actually, I already knew that too.  But I got rid of a lot of fattening candy so that's good for me.  And besides, if you want satisfaction, eat a Snickers and leave me alone.  All I know is that I slept great last night.

Creepy clowns

It's Halloween time.  A time for ghosts, ghouls and the worst of all... clowns.  I never had nightmares of clowns, but i never wanted to be near one either.  I remember as a kid being at some event where clowns were hired to entertain and they creeped the hell out of me.  I don't know if it was the goofball antics, the over the top showmanship or that they smelled really bad.  All I know was that I wanted nothing to do with them.

 I don't care if they look like this :

 this:

or this:

They're damn creepy no matter who is under the goofy hair.  Any adult that is in their right mind doesn't want to glop colorful makeup on, dress in big gimicky clothing and go around acting like an idiot.

I know.  Too easy. 

A couple of years ago we were at a charity walk/5k run.  My father-in-law was approached by a female clown and she tried to engage him in some so-called merriment.  He wanted nothing to do with it and actually told her that "Clowns are creepy and scare people."  She actually started to cry.  Made me laugh, but he felt bad and tried to make it up to her by going along with her schtick.  Her heart wasn't in it and we soon were off to let her reexamine her lifestyle choice alone.  

I don't know if she ever went back to clowning, but if she did I wonder if she took on a more jaded view.  Perhaps instead of trying to bring joy she now tries to get even and strike fear in the hearts of men and small children.  If so, this is her weekend to shine.  Don't believe me? Today I overheard two kids arguing over going to a haunted house.  The younger was protesting.

"No! No! No! No! I don't wanna go!"

"Why not," asked the older kid?

"Because there's supposed to be a clown there! If there's a clown there I'm not going!"

Good for you little tyke! It's future leaders like you that avoid people like these at all costs.

The dog ate my homework

This is my lovable pooch, Largo.

Cute eh?  She is a rescued dog who has pretty much taken over our home.  She's the queen and we're just here to serve her.  I never had a dog as a kid.  The folks wouldn't allow it.  Not that they didn't think that I'd take care of her.  They were opposed to the hair that would no doubt take over their impeccably clean home.  So I never had any one to blame but myself for "lost" or "missing" homework.  I also never had a pal to pass undesirable food to under the table as a kid.  I do now, except as an adult I never make brussel sprouts, dumplings or liver for myself.  (Three things that would make me sit at the table for hours until the battle of wills between me and my mom would result in me stuffing my mouth, excusing myself and spitting them into the toilet.)  So I feel that we're wasting her fullest potential. Sad.

In a recent post I was explaining my obsession with guitars and how I had gotten a DVD instruction series.  The thing I failed to mention was that my best friend doesn't want me to practice.  Any time I go pick up a guitar, she's there.  It's not so much that I don't want an audience as I practice, it's that she sits there and pants till a puddle of drool is at her feet.  Given the opportunity, she'll keep inching closer until she has her head in my lap, eyes looking up and sad.  OK.  Let's go outside and play right? No, she'll just lay down and chill.  Uugh. Go back in, pick up the guitar and it's right back to square one.

Recently I also purchased the Rosetta Stone German instruction DVD and have been trying to learn the native language of my ancestors.  Largo seems to have other ideas about that as well.  I can be on the computer doing anything, and I do mean anything and she'll lay around comatose. As soon as it's time to do my "homework" with the DVD, she nuzzles up to me, leans on me or pants and drools all over the floor again holding one paw up in the air.

Yes it is cute, albeit annoying when you're trying to make yourself a better, more well rounded person.  But it doesn't stop there.  Watch T.V.? Sure.  No problem.  Pick up the controller to the Wii? She's having none of it.  Of course, the wife likes it because then she can finally beat me at Mario Cart.  I think she got so sick of losing at Wii games that she some how trained Largo to disrupt me. After coming to that conclusion, I decided to ignore her which lead to these shenanigans:

Yeah, hop up on the couch and lay on me.  That's always encouraged with a 95 pound dog.

I never got the chance to use the dog ate my homework excuse as a kid which makes me feel left out of that little slice of Americana.  But if you're wondering, that excuse still doesn't work as an adult, when my wife asks how my various lessons are going.

And I thought I was bored

From Good Morning America we finally get the riveting run down on "Why do dogs shake when they are wet."  Yes this was the question so-called researcher David Hu was wondering.  So with a team of experts they went out to discover why animals, not just dogs, shake when wet.

What they found out was stunning, earth shattering and paradigm shifting... if you're a moron. Smaller animals had to shake more to equal the amount of force created by larger animals to equal the amount of drying.  But the big answer is yet to come! What could the answer be... hum?

Really people? Someone studied this?  Actually what doesn't bother me so much is that someone actually took the time to research this.  Lord knows I waste time  every day doing useless things (like what I'm doing now for example).  What does get my goat though is that he got on T.V. because of it.  It's as bad as the people who wasted research dollars on finding out the reason why hot pizza burns the roof of your mouth.  That's simple; because you're either too hungry or too much of a slob to wait for it to cool.  Give me the grant money thank you very much.

So back to this current raging debate. The brainiacs shot slow motion sequences of wet animals in all their wet action best.  Back and forth you get to watch hairy, dripping wet animals twist in all their natural glory.  Sounds like fun doesn't it?  Yeah, you're right.  It really doesn't.  But nevertheless there it was in slo-mo video.

If you haven't come to the obvious answer to, "Why do dogs shake when they are wet?" And still haven't taken the time to go see the fascinating and stunning results on the GMA website, let me shed some light on it.  The grand answer is (drum roll please)... because they want to dry off.

I know... shocking isn't it?  Bet you didn't see that one coming, did ya? C'mon, be honest.  Oh and Mr. Hu, next time you have a curiosity about something like this, just shoot me an email.  I can save you a lot of time.

The Bears wasted three hours of my life again

So another Sunday has come and gone and what do I have to show for it?  Nothing. Nada, Zippo. Zilch. Again I wasted three plus hours of my life watching and rooting for the win that wasn't.  Three hours to watch them pass, mostly ineffectively against the worst passing defense in the league.  Three hours with only 15 runs. Three hours with 4 pics, one touchdown called back, one never given (thanks Lovie and your moron in the replay booth for not throwing the red flag) that resulted in a turnover... on the one yard line.  Three hours of them still not scoring in the 3rd quarter for the entire year.  Three hours of them playing so poorly and still had a chance to win.  Three hours of my dog being unsure if I was mad at her or not.  Three stinking hours that I'll never get back and what's worse is that I can not even bill the McCaskey's for my time.

 It reminds me of another promise of three hours of fun that turned out poorly for everyone involved.  It was called Gilligan's Island.  They were only meant to go out for a three hour tour and wound up endlessly stranded on "an uncharted desert isle."  The Bears are only going to Toronto in 2 weeks to play the winless Bills, so hopefully they'll get stuck at the boarder after handing the Bills their first win. Maybe we can bribe their boarder guards to detaining the offense and front office yokels.  Maybe send them off to Saskatchewan for the brutal winter... hum, just thinking. 

Here's a thought though.  With the NFL flex schedule at the end of the season, maybe we can petition for a late night game against the Packers to be played in Haiti.  Even if it's not OK'ed by the NFL we could always put the team on two planes. Defense/ Special teams can go to Green Bay, Offense to Port Au Prince.  If they get there, they can do penance by helping rebuild.  If they don't and wind up somewhere else... no loss.

Plus they have everyone they need to fill out the cast for a new Gilligan's Island. They'll just change it to "Jerry's Island," starring Lovie Smith as "The Skipper."  Jay Cutler as "Gilligan." Mike Martz as "the Professor."   Jerry Angelo and Ted Phillips as "Mr. and Mrs. Howell," (you pick who is Mr. and who is the Mrs.) Mike McCaskey as "Mary Ann" and Chris Williams as "Ginger.

I'm losing it

On my 30th birthday I decided to finally buy a guitar.  I had always wanted to learn to play, but for whatever reason I put it off.  That day I found myself driving out to the local music store and meeting the typical mom and pop music store "dude."   He was busy trying to upsell a kid on lessons so I went about looking for the cheapest guitar possible.  Since I knew that I was going to be horrible I figured I might as well save a couple of bucks.  Eventually the "pop" of mom and pop fame came out from the back and asked me:

"Can I help you son?"  

"Oh... yeah, please."

"What can I help you with?"

"I want to finally get a guitar... and don't want to spend a lot."

You could see the sadness flush over him and led me to the bargain area.  Even though I didn't want to spend a lot, I still walked out with an acoustic guitar, case, tuner, picks and a beginner how-to book.   So much for not spending a lot.  Yes, "pop" was smiling when I left.  I took my gigantic guitar home and played (horribly as predicted) till my fingers bled... which didn't take all that long.  

My obsession lead me to getting my first electric guitar, a Kramer Imperial with Floyd Rose and a reverse headstock.  My first Ebay accomplishment.  Yeah, I took the easy way out.  My fingers thanked me as it was way easier to play for extended periods of time and not ripping up the tips of my fingers. 

This of course lead me to buy another, a Kramer Baretta.  Then an endless succession of no name pieces of crap that all came and went on Ebay.  I put the search for the perfect guitar obsession away for awhile and decided that it was a useless pursuit. In the ten years since I got my first I had never taken a real lesson, and REALLY should have.  I'm still quite awful.  

My next idea was to get lessons.  However, the idea of going to a music store and get lessons makes me nauseous.  Every time I'm in one there is invariably a 7 year old who can shred a guitar like Jimi Hendrix, while I'm still looking to see if I have my fingering correct.  I'd like to think that I'm above the entire ego thing, but these kids see you in there and naturally assume that you can play like them.  I don't know who would be more let down when they heard me actually play.  I just can't do that to the kids... or so I'll keep telling myself.  Instead I found a DVD course that actually is pretty good.  The only trouble is is that there is no accountability to a DVD.  It'll just sit there in the case and never judge me, but it'll also never pull me figuratively by the ear and make me practice. 

This was going fine. I'm still terrible, but slowly getting better.  Unfortunately, this small advancement in playing ability has fostered a new obsession.  I'm going to try the Eddive Van Halen way and slap different parts together and see what happens as I make my own guitar.  I'm now cruising online sites for cheep parts, refusing to pay more than $20 for any one part.  Most have come in the $1 to $5 area.  I'm betting that the best parts come cheap.  I still have to get a neck and some other various parts, but I'm in no hurry.  This is gonna sound awesome.  

I apologize now to my wife, dog, neighbors and music in general.

Cubs hire new skipper

On Tuesday (10/19/10) the Chicago Cubs named Mike Quade as their 51st manager.

Personally, I couldn't care less, but the hoopla that surrounded the choice was nothing short of unbelievable.  The bulletin boards were ablaze because they didn't choose the hall of famer Ryne Sandberg.  "How could they do this?" "He's  done all that they asked and more!"  That one was my particular favorite.  Seriously I'd like to know what the "and more" was that he did.  Was he driving the team bus? Maybe he was making sandwiches and slicing oranges for after the games like a soccer mom.  Perhaps he was just sewing the little holes his Jr. Cubbies had made in their uniforms.  Whatever it was, it must have been spectacular to have warranted such an outcry.  You'd think that they hired:

You guessed it, Lex Luther.  Is the hate just because of the bald thing or something more sinister?  I bet the fans would have been happier if he looked more like this:

Well no matter the reason for the fans scorn, there is nothing that can be done about it for now.  He has a 2 year contract and the owners, who are cutting almost  $150 million from the payroll, won't be keen on having 2 managers under contract.  Even if the Quade led Cubs only win 5 games.  So there is nothing to do but enjoy the ride.

I had a thought about how we can do just that.  Since the 1940's the Cubs have flown a flag emblazoned with a "W" for days the Cubs won

and conversely, an "L" for losses.

 These are nice and have been working fine for quite some time.  However, maybe it's time to update the idea.  It's just a thought mind you.

Mike has been hairless since he was 3 due to a condition called alopecia.  So it's a little difficult to tell when he's happy or when he's sad.  Radio legend Steve Dahl (dahl.com) offered the idea on his podcast that maybe he should draw in eyebrows to indicate his mood.  Great idea!  But let's take it one step further.  Let's replace the old "W" flag with a new flag:

and the tattered, worn out "L" flag with:

And when they get slaughtered by the Sluggo team:

Getting started

OK, the world of blogging... to use an old persons phrase, I was doing that before there ever was such a thing!  Sure mine was in useless rambling emails sent to some friends, without their consent of course.  Some even read a couple, or so they said.  But most were nice enough to lie to me and tell me that it was funny.

Having run its course I stopped doing that because, well frankly, there wasn't much call for it.  Plus the requests to stop harassing them on a daily basis eventually paid off.  Now with the overabundance of mindless drivel, over zealous political ranting and pop culture observations on the net, the last thing the world needs is another pointless blog... or so it would seem.  But yet, here is another.  And besides, I'm bored.

So I found this website and created my own free blog because let's be honest.  Who would pay to read this?  (Editors note: for those who feel compelled so can send me money at any time they so wish.  Any amount will be gladly accepted. So in the words of someone much more intelligent than I, "Give. Give till it hurts.")

The set up for this is actually quite painless and fast, until you come to the part where you need a name for your @ address.  I quickly discovered that all the clever names were already taken.  Big shock, I know.  So I started to put in any stupid thing I could think of and most came back as already taken.  Makes me wonder though if they are truly being used as the name would suggest.

For example, the name Imbored was taken.  As was imstillbored, useless, mindless, mindlessdrivel, yawn, mindlessrambling and mindlessramblings, uttersilliness, whyareyoulookingatme, yrulookingatme and yurlookingatthis.  As well as stupid, thisisstupid, urstupid, youarestupid, and stupiduselesscrap.

It makes me wonder what they could possibly be filling up their blogs with to validate their titles... but not curious enough to go check them out.  As I encourage you to also ignore them and only read mine.  Yes, I am that childish.