Recovery effort.

I think it's not Monday, but I'm not sure.

Who cares! It's Peanut-Butter Jelly Kitten Time!

Recovery effort.

Ho-ho-ho!

Greetz from holiday central, where it's a balmy 45° outside, there is only a small pile of snow left in the corner of the yard where the sun doesn't reach in winter, and the log of Pillsbury sugar cookie dough made 12 cookies. Boy, things seemed bigger when I was littler.

Wigwam Jones' tale of what God wants for Christmas made me want to tell an anecdote about something that I said this week that made me feel funny in a strange way.

I have a nativity set that belonged to my great-grandmother...I think. I was always quite attached to the figures--in a non-idol-worship kinda way, really--and a few years back I bought a new manger, because the cardboard one I made to replace the original carboard manger looked like it had been made by a ten-year-old on loads of Benedryl. Turns out I can't put the manger out because it tastes good, so for the past two years the figures have sat on the television, because they're less likely to get knocked over or lost that way.

I picked up the weird habit of hiding baby Jesus until midnight on Christmas Eve. I realize I just made that look like a dirty game, but no, I just don't display baby Jesus--who is molded into a cushy straw crib that I guess Joseph cobbled together--until the big day. So Mary--who has redder lips painted on her than most of my Princess Leia dolls--along with Joseph and the Wise Men--two of which are painted in 1950s lawn jockey black skintones--stand, kneel and gaze adoringly upon the little empty spot in the center of the television.

I'm getting older, and I forget things, so I like to tell everyone where I've put baby Jesus, so in case I forget, I have two backups. When I decorated the other day, I told my mother, "Okay, Jesus is in the drawer under the tv, next to the catnip."

I meant well, I really did.

Ho-ho-ho!

But, enough about me.

I'm decorating a large tree that's sprung up in my house, as that seems to be the most sensible thing to do, and so I leave you with this news from The Onion.

FCC: All Programming To Be Broadcast In ADHDTV By 2007

To recap: I've posted a link and--OOH, SHINY!

But, enough about me.

Updates.

That moldy certificate I got still smells; I've given up on the newspaper to pull the smell out, and I put the whole thing into a ziploc bag, where it will most likely stay for the rest of my life. God help the unsuspecting ancestor that finds it.

Three years ago, I tried Crest White Strips. They made my teeth hurt--for three years. This week, I picked up some toothpaste that claims to have the technology to rebuild teeth, and so far, I've had luck with it. Just yesterday, I ate an orange and no one in the immediate area died by my hand.

I felt guilty that I didn't list every single DJ I have enjoyed in my last post, but then I realized that I was mainly trying to make the point that the new era of "Jockless" stations is dangerous, because all future little geeks in training will have even less contact with people if all they listen to on radio is music and commercials about anxiety and On Star. This next generation needs to know that long-distance attachments to people you will probably never meet can be okay, as long as you don't steal their underwear, they don't try to take yours, and you don't offer your underwear to them.

Updates.

I was out here listening all the time.

I once told myself I needed to stop forming attachments to radio personalities. I didn't realize at the time that many kids like me do end up considering the voice coming out of the radio a friend that always has the best taste in music. I should have realized, of course, because my grandfather had pictures and postcards of DJs from WNEW-AM from before I was born, that I wasn't alone in the radio-love. He listened to that station from the day the Make-Believe Ballroom began to the day he died...and maybe beyond that.

Ted Brown used to play songs for my grandfather, he even made an announcement on the day I was born, so I guess it was my destiny to become a radio geek. I got my first radio for Christmas, 1983, and not only did it stay tuned to Z-100 for years, I took the advice of the station ID and removed the tuning knob from the radio. I thought I was rebelling by listening to Prince and all the new music that's now played on nearly every station in New York as "classics" or part of their retro weekends, but I could have listened to my tapes if I just wanted music. Back then, I listened for Hollywood Hamilton. He was out of his mind, and I loved it.

Two years later, I learned that DJs sometimes disappeared for no good reason. Hollywood was replaced, and Z-100 was never the same for me. Took me a while, but I found another station down the dial, on 92.7, called WLIR. Every one of their DJs was funny, even their intros cracked me up. Every day, I use to wait to hear Larry The Duck's Nick Danger intro. WLIR turned into WDRE and one night in 1993, I heard Loscalzo and Peter Puberty for the first time. Despising telephones, I had never actually contacted any of my heroes until I got the fax number for WDRE, and between sending comments to Mrs. Gyrtlebaumer, asking about fatalities in Mortal Kombat, and voting 9 billion times for songs that no one really knows to this day (if you know Hobo-Humpin' Slobo Babe by Whale, I love you), I earned the title Gumby, the Mad Faxer. Nothing will ever replace those days, and for me to try to explain why would be impossible. When Peter Puberty had to leave because he set fire to his science lab, and Loscalzo just wasn't on the air anymore one day in late 1995, I realized being a fan of radio hurts.

Entire stations started to be removed after that, and it all went to hell. I still had a few DJs I enjoyed listening to, mostly people that I'd first heard on WLIR/WDRE. Thanks to the Internet, I was able to see what some of my old friends were up to, and was able to hear their voices again.

This past week, the station I listened to for "modern rock" after 92.7 was taken away let go of its DJs, and basically changed format. K-Rock's still playing music until January, but it's not about the music...it's never just about the music to the radio geeks. Jake Fogelnest and Dead Air Dave, the night guys, had their last shows this week, and the way FM radio goes, I don't know where I'll hear them next. Lazlow--who I knew from 92.7 way before Grand Theft Auto III--is doing his last show on K-Rock right now. I thought he might have stayed on in the new format, because his show is mainly talk, but no. On tonight's show, like all of last week, they've been taking calls from people that wanted to wish them well, people that want the station to stay as it was. Again, the listeners don't get to decide what stays. We're called geeks with agendas by people who decide formats and live by rating books. Even worse, I'm not not a white male aged 18-35, who apparently make up the majority of those ratings. Rock doesn't sell to them, I hear. American Idiot alone can't save a format, I suppose.

Who knows, people who stay at home at night, listening to the radio to keep their minds from going places they don't belong, may very well outlive the rest of the world. Then again, I think that happened on The Twilight Zone, and it wasn't pretty.

Last year, during the all-Christmas radio onslaught, I did my whole FM-transmitter-through-the-computer hook-up so I could hear the Sirius stations that come with Dish Network on my little FM headset as I wandered around the house. I went to Sirius looking for music, and ended up liking the DJs on First Wave. I even found Larry the Duck again. I'm not 12, or even 20 anymore, so I tell myself that if they "move on to better things," I'll take it much better. I'm not completely mad yet, either, and so I'm sure I'm lying to myself. Look for a long-ass post like this if anything ever happens to CD 101.9.

Dar Williams wrote a song called Are You Out There, and it's about pretty much everything I've just said here, but she says it better, and to a catchy tune. There's only one station in my area that plays Dar Williams, and it isn't corporate...yet. After this week, I'm down to two FM radio stations to listen to, here, guys. It's making me feel old. That's not what radio is meant to do, is it?

I was out here listening all the time.

Because I never let go of certain things...

I happened to find Earth Wind & Fire: a Tribute on Ice tonight on TV. I watched ice dancers dance to September, and then gave my verdict:

"Earth Wind & Fire were in Sgt. Pepper's, this show is nothing compared to that."

It's true, no one tried to kidnap Shae-Lynn Bourne while she was making Shae dip for the band, and Brian Boitano and Brian Orser didn't team up to rescue her from Josef Sabovcik or anything.

Holy crap, I think I just created Disney's next ice show.

Because I never let go of certain things...

Because I can't think of anything original at the moment....

Your Birthdate: June 23

You're not good at any one thing, and that's the problem. You're good at so much - you never know what to do. Change is in your blood, and you don't stick to much for long. You are destined for a life of travel and fun. Your strength: Your likeability Your weakness: You never feel satisfied Your power color: Bright yellow Your power symbol: Asterisk Your power month: May

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Because I can't think of anything original at the moment....

I predict...

That when the Howard Stern show ends on Friday, 92.3FM will start playing Christmas music in a final insult to the listeners. All the regular jocks who aren't going to be part of the new format have been saying their last day is Thursday, and Infinity just seems to be so full of great ideas, that I think replacing Nine Inch Nails and Green Day with Bing Crosby and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra will be the perfect way to lose anyone that might have stuck around for the transition any other way.

(This post brought to you by my bitterness over the loss of K-Rock.)

I predict...

Being pathetic can be fun at times.

As you probably know, smells get to me. Dryer sheets of doom, cigarettes, neurotoxins posing as perfume, wet ink, all these things like to try to stop me from breathing, but then there are other smells that just don't belong in some places, and those just confuse me.

Like the other day, when I finally paid off a course I was taking and in return, got a certificate and transcript that smelled of damp basement. I realize I wasn't always ahead with the payments, but did my paperwork really need to smell like it had been stored in New Orleans? Probably not, so, I just wrote a friendly little note to my so-called educators to let them know they need to store papers in a dry area, away from substances that can create spontaneous mutation. I left that last bit of my opinion out, of course.

I expect no answer.

I will, however, let everyone know if that tip about removing smells from paper by sticking it in a newspaper for a few days works. Provided, of course, that my own basement doesn't flood and require the services of the very newspaper that currently holds the certificate. I should leave a note on the newspaper.

(I wrote this because I feel slightly guilty about not writing much lately. My other story for today could have been about the repair of my vibrating ballcock, but I'm all out of toilet humor. Ah, ha ha.)

Being pathetic can be fun at times.

For those sick of 24/7 Christmas music radio.

I give you NES versions of classic hits. I've only heard The Final Countdown so far, and I'm sad that this isn't the '80s anymore, because there totally would have been an Arrested Development video game--just like the Frankie Goes To Hollywood game, but with bananas and staircars. Instead of continues, you'd take a forget-me-now. As the "Continue -- Yes? No?" screen counted down, you would be taunted with possibly-offensive chicken sounds.

I'm still waiting for the big-ass RAR file to download.

...

Still waiting.

For those sick of 24/7 Christmas music radio.

While I'm playing TV Guide....

Sunday at 4PM (EST), NBC will be showing curling as part of its Ice 2005 pre-olympic hype. That is what I will be watching, even if they show as little as they did today, when the women's team couldn't even extend the duel into a fourth end. Personally, it sounded as if the match taking place off-camera was more exciting. Ah well, I should just be glad they're showing any curling, and they don't act as if aliens invented it so much anymore. The "Curling rocks!" ad campaign is gone, sadly. I shall miss those young punks curling the turkeys in the supermarket with the old lady, they made quite a team.

Other sports featured on Ice 2005 will have people riding a thin board with blades down icy tracks head first, and also the double luge. I think I see why all of these sports were thrown together in one show and simply titled "Ice," and I'm okay with that...as long as they show the curling.

61 days until the winter olympics...the original reality show.

While I'm playing TV Guide....

OMG! QUICK, TURN ON THE TV!

Anyone who has the Sundance Channel has 45 minutes to see why I am the way I am. On the station, right now, is Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, starring The Bee Gees and Peter Frampton.

I can say nothing more, because I'm watching Dougie sing You Never Give Me Your Money. Naughty, naughty Dougie.

OMG! QUICK, TURN ON THE TV!

I've got the winter itch!

That should be a holiday song, something about getting itchy in winter...maybe as a result of sitting outdoors two consecutive nights in 23°F weather listening to Tom Waits and then Beatles music until 12:30 in the morning. There are times I wonder what the neighbors think. Then again, the neighbors are all asleep. I have such good neighbors. Now that the guy that used to shoot at things moved away. Or shot himself, I'm not sure.

Right, so, we got lots of snow overnight, and it looks pretty when it's undisturbed by footprints and seagull poops. In between tossing salt at rogue ice patches, I've been feverishly churning out comic strips in the hopes that I can see my family occasionally during the next few weeks without having to sneak off and draw like I usually do.

Anyway, any plans I had for writing anything else here at this moment have been hijacked my this:

I got the winter itch,
Shovelin' snow is such a bitch,
The plow knocked me into a ditch,
Oh yeah, I got the winter itch.
My excema likes the cold,
Comes out to play and makes me look old,
My fashion modelin' days gotta be put on hold,
'Cause my excema likes the cold.

Okay, that's out of my system, back to drawing like I write. Ha!

I've got the winter itch!

I have returned, momentarily.

I have found that the best part of holiday eating, when a digestive disorder is involved, is that I gained one mere pound, and that is already gone. Take that, people with functioning weight/energy-producing capabilities!

The worst part of the holiday is of course searching in vain for the bulb tester I know I put somewhere. Not any place I recall at the moment, but the bulb tester is indeed located somewhere within the house. I think. Unless I was feeling like Kate Bush and buried it in the garden instead of my glow-in-the-dark yo-yo to protect it from the government.

The bits that fall in the middle of all things good and bad are that I'm really busy, Tate's back, Looney Tunes: Back In Action entertained me more than Ocean's 12, and I have found a game that may be offensive. Catholics everywhere will be pleased to know that my sheep-swinging skills are very slow.

Join me next time when I realize with sudden horror that most of the music cassettes I own are roughly twenty years old.

I have returned, momentarily.

Hey!

Thanks!

No really, I mean that. I mean, if y'all weren't here to read my words, it'd be like the rest of my day--me babbling to the desk.

Enjoy whatever you might eat today, I think that's the point of this holiday. Unless this is when I should be out throwing tomatoes at myself. I get confused.

Hey!

The Internet Is Evil; Please send bagels.

Some rabbis urge faithful to unplug.

I'm not hep to the ways of the Orthodox Jewish community, so I'm not entirely sure what the Orthodox Jewish kids grow up to be. When I saw on the news that the Lakewood community in New Jersey was asking parents to take computers away from children in an effort to keep them safe, my first thought was, "There goes any future job skills," but then I realized maybe there's hope. Maybe some good can come of this.

The Bronx needs a good Jewish bakery. We haven't had one in many years. While I realize no one in Lakewood will be reading this message, I hope some of the heathen computer-using friends of the Rabbis pass the message along that the Internet is very happy that there are less children it has to hide from, and all it asks in return is some good baking.

I'm a little surprised at myself, that after 16 years of teaching computer literacy, I too think it's better for the Internet that less people go online. As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to go work on a screenplay for a sequel to Yentl, where Anshel's grandkids sing songs about how Weebl & Bob make them feel, and wackiness ensues.

The Internet Is Evil; Please send bagels.

A quick summary:

Material Girl is on the radio, but there is too much stuff in the way so I cannot roll my chair across the room anymore.

My firewall has been locking me out of teh internets, but I think I've figured out what's wrong.

I'm really, really busy, and have nothing to show for it.

I did write an ode, however:

Radiator, you're my friend;
when the Raynaud's starts,
you make it end.
Please don't fall through the floor and scald me.

A quick summary:

By the power of disco....

He-Man sings!

Ah, the memories this brings back.

By the power of disco....

I need to stop liking shows that are still on the air.

As I learned from J Ro, Arrested Development is quite possibly getting canned. This does not surprise me, as it is a good show.

I hereby deny ever having watched television. Yeah, that's right...I don't like radio much either....

Think that convinced the execs at Fox and Infinity?

[edit]: posting from e-mail does not make a pretty post.

I need to stop liking shows that are still on the air.

Sal the Swimmer

There once was a man who went for a swim;
he wore a life vest and carried with him
a raft full of air,
and a brown folding chair.

He climbed into the water
yelled "AAAAAH!" and splashed about.
His grandson and granddaughter
rushed over to help him out.

Grabbing his neck to use as a brace,
they helped him onto the raft,
but were all splashed in the face
by the flimsy inflatable craft.

Would they go under?
They started to wonder.
No fear, they all survived
to have hot dogs, sodas and fries.

And the three tired swimmers
sat eating their dinners,
while the man's grandchildren
told him he was cool,
as they sat by the side of the
three-foot-high pool.

Sal the Swimmer

Shiny!

Shiny!

Television alert!

Any of you out there with the Encore Action channel, there will be a film shown at 10:50AM on Tuesday, November 1.

In The Year 2889. Oh, if you haven't seen it, don't pass up the chance. Personally, I'm beyond glee at the prospect of seeing this one again, and this time...I shall be ready with a tape.

While I'm recommending movies, all I will say about the new Sherlock Holmes with Rupert Everett is this: Dr. John Watson is a flame-handed ninja. All these years, I never knew. Wow.

Television alert!

Kegger!

Happy Birthday, Rainbow Heron!

*curls a huge, flaming birthday cake across the Internet*

Kegger!

A Dark Day.

Nationally, more than 2,000 US soldiers have been killed in Iraq.

Locally, it was announced that 92.3 K-Rock is flipping to all-talk in January.

And here, in my room, I check my daily dose of Star Wars to find that William Hootkins passed away on Sunday. He was Porkins, to many. Lt. Eckhardt to Batman fans, Major "It's in a safe place" Eaton to anyone who's seen Raiders of the Lost Ark. It makes me sad to know that there will never be a Star Wars convention that I will go to when I'm old just to meet one man, to thank him for the friends I found because of his character.

He was an amazing character actor, a great voice, and I really can't write any more without getting really sappy.

Clear skies, Porkins.

The world has also lost Mugsy from The Uncle Floyd Show. I watched that show all the time, even on UHF stations with bad reception, and Mugsy was great. Capt. Fork ruled. I need to get my old tapes out and relive the good times.

A Dark Day.

If I only had a belfry...or some garlic and holy water...or even a penguin.

Every year, the city sprays ineffective pesticides around the area in the hopes of killing mosquitoes that might carry West Nile Virus. This year was no exception, even though we didn't get that much rain. I have not thought about mosquitoes lately, because they haven't really been around biting me. I attributed this to the dry weather and went on itching for other reasons. Now, even after a week of rain, there are still no mosquitoes.

That's the point where I realize that it was in fact a bat I saw flying overhead the other night. Bats love them some mosquitoes. I just really hope these aren't the radical kind of bats that watch Cujo on weekends before taking to the skies in search of snacks.

The following joke comes from the wild blacksploitation days of the '70s, and may be offensive to some. Having grown up watching movies like Love at First Bite, however, I cannot pass up this opportunity.

According to an old Windows program I have (Phoebe 3.15 by Anthony Nguyen), this 4702nd year in Chinese astrology is the year of the Black Chicken. I'm sure, like me, the bats have been waiting for this a long time. Of course, some web sites say it's really the year of the Green Chicken, and that could explain the sudden interest in bird flu, but I'm sticking with Black Chicken, at least until a bat flies into my house, at which time I will either begin screaming like Willie Scott in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom or cracking Hunter S. Thompson jokes.

If I only had a belfry...or some garlic and holy water...or even a penguin.

A High Wind Advisory is in effect for the tri-state area.

Hold on to your hats and pants. If the choice must be made, for the sake of the children, hold on to the pants. You will miss your pants most of all.

If I had crows, they might be extra-scared today.

I could stick some little horns where the hat used to be, give him a lightsaber, and call him Darth Tatterdemalion, but the legless apprentice thing is wearing a little thin.

A High Wind Advisory is in effect for the tri-state area.

Sad news items.

Sometimes I'm not sure if I'm too old, too young, or just too picky.

Ricola, the cough drop company, is having a contest. They send a "mystery cougher" out onto the streets, and if you offer a Ricola to the right hacking stranger, you can win prizes. I suspect you can also win something if you get too close to coughing people who are not Ricola employees, but that might not be as fun.

...

Even I do not love MP3s so much that I would implant them in my boobs. Although I really would like to take the opportunity to get dibs on the names iTit, MP34-DD and the slogan "Music soothes the flat breasts." Mark my words, man-boobies will be in when these players hit the market.

...

The local news is going to hell fast. Today, on the five o'clock news, Diana Williams called the latest Star Wars video game "Battlefront Eleven"

...

On the WENN feed from IMDB.com, comes this nugget of wisdom:

Madonna Song Offends Rabbis
Pop superstar Madonna has provoked fierce criticism from Jewish leaders after dedicating a song on her new album to a 16th century Kabbalist rabbi. The controversial track "Isaac" draws on the life of Yitzhak Luria, a Jewish mystic, but rabbis are suspicious the Material Girl singer may be exploiting his name for profit. Madonna, who is Kabbalah follower herself, is no stranger to religious contention. Her 1984 single Like A Virgin sparked uproar amongst Christians after the raunchy music video featured a black Jesus Christ character. And Jewish elders are similarly unimpressed by her latest musical tribute, suggesting it could even prompt divine retribution. Rabbi Rafael Cohen, head of a seminary named after Luria, says, "Jewish law forbids the use of the name of the holy rabbi for profit. Her act is just simply unacceptable and I can only sympathize for her because of the punishment that she is going to receive from the heavens."

I know, I know...you're all too young to see the error in that one. So I'll just paste in the note I e-mailed to WENN:

On the Internet Movie Database's Movie & TV news story, "Madonna Song Offends Rabbis," you state that the video for Madonna's 1984 "Like A Virgin" featured a black Jesus Christ character. In fact, it was the 1989 "Like A Prayer" video that featured the black Jesus Christ character. "Like A Virgin" only had a man in a plush lion mask hitting on Madonna in a gondola.

As I recall, people were alarmed by the lion-plushie-man as well back in '84, but I didn't go into that.

Sad news items.

Learn from my mistakes.

To everyone who has ever lost an Internet connection...even now, in the days of Plug 'n' Play....

WINSOCK.
WINSOCK.
WINSOCK.

Winsock.

That is all.

15 years...and I'm still trying to get online. I can't say that Prodigy was any easier.

Learn from my mistakes.

I killed the Internet again.

I need to stop doing that. It's bad. I'll surely be put on trial for crimes against computer kind at some point before I die. Probably right before, as the Internets will want their revenge.

Okay, I gotta go figure out how to revive it as well as the good magician who found me rotting in a Lofty Mountains ditch back in 1986.

Day: 11433 Evening
Strength: 40%
Health: 60%
Aura: 80%
Power: Killin'
Position: DC4
Weather: Rain
Move: Wussy

I killed the Internet again.

So you think I didn't watch the entire thing?

So You Think You Can Dance? is finally over. I'm shocked that the guy I thought might win actually won.

So shocked...that I really have nothing more to say on the subject. Except that next week I'll have an extra hour free to do things I won't recall the next day.

So you think I didn't watch the entire thing?

This is talking.

Dear diary,

Today I drove like a wheelman and dyed my hair. Tomorrow, I'm going to burn off my fingerprints.

I woulda made a good spy.

Except for the fact that I talk too much.

This is talking.

New beginnings.

I heard the song on the radio from Breakin' last night, Theres No Stoppin' Us. I always liked that song, and it always reminds me of 1984, which was one hell of a ride. I had, an hour earlier, done something I'd put off for far too long. It occured to me that elsewhere, my breakdancing buddy from 21 years ago was also starting a new phase of his life. I would like to think that Ollie and Jerry were sending their blessings to everyone starting over again.

Not as predicted, October arrived to find foliage in good health. Also not as predicted, I too lived to see autumn, when the air gets good and the sun is kinder to things.

My city is crazy, banning people that don't have children with them from parks. I think a law like this might make it a bit easier for Aqualung to pick up little girls, "I have to go to the park, wanna go with me?" but maybe I'm crazier than the city.

And, when comprehensible content fails, there are memes:

You scored as Capt. Mal Reynolds. The Captain. You are the captain of the ship, so the crew are your responsibility. You just want to do the job, get paid and keep flying. Why is that always so hard? Capt. Mal Reynolds 75% Kaylee Frye 69% Shepherd Derrial Book 69% River Tam 63% The Operative 63% Zoe Alleyne Washburne 63% Inara Serra 63% Simon Tam 56% Hoban 'Wash' Washburne 56% Jayne Cobb 50% Which Serenity character are you? created with QuizFarm.com

New beginnings.

Yes, even guide crocs for blind Aussies need a chance.

I only get on the ol' political soapbox for really important things these days, and so I'll just cut to it. There's finally something being shuffled around the floor of the House of Representatives that will help animals in disasters. It's not only about time, it's way past it, so if you want to give the guv'ment some power to help the furries, click the link, sign, and hope that we can make some kind of a difference.

The Pets Evacuation and Transportation Standards Act, H.R. 3858 (PETS Act).

Of course...it looks like plans will be made state-to-state, so it it ends up that certain states' plans are "shoot," I'm not really for that, just the transportation part. And yes, I know the crazy cat ladies, Tippi Hedren, and Sigfried & Roy pose special challenges, but I'm pretty sure Sigfried can apparate Manticore and Roy to safety in that case.

Yes, even guide crocs for blind Aussies need a chance.

Must be Monday.

This top news story today brought to you by Fark: Having solved all other problems, Suicide Girls among first victims of the FBI's "war on porn" (NSFW)

The first I'd read of Suicide Girls was back when RStevens of Diesel Sweeties wanted to be one, and so I'm familiar with the premise that girls are interesting to some people. That's fine, you know, people should make friends, never mind if they're dressed funny. As for the site treating their models badly, okay, that's one reason to pick on them, but they're not being censored for that, it's that they're showing boobies to paying members.

What's next? Google Images?

Have we not learned our lesson from Zardoz? If more people were wanking, there would be less hostility. Although I do advocate the destruction of the 79¢ vibrators. That's just...not a good paint job at all.

To sum up the day, the agents of KAOS are winning...and now even Maxwell Smart can't save us. Oh Max...RIP. Go, go, gadget hearse.

Must be Monday.

My commentary on the Battlestar Galactica finale.

TO BE CONTINUED?! NO! WTF kind of....ARGH!

When the hell does it come back?

You know...I have the feeling that when I hit the last episode of Firefly, I will be feeling even more pissed off, because--oh, wait, there's that movie coming out--but no! This is why I turned to designer and landscaping shows. There's no suspense, no attachment, no music that will make you realize halfway through your day that it's in your head...after Remington Steele ended up sucking so bad in the last seasons, I swore I would never open myself up to another television series again...I am such a fool.

And Michelle Forbes plays a good bitch. And a good medical examiner, but that's besides the point. No, it's not, Homicide: Life of the Streets hooked me and ended badly too. ARGH.

(This is not to say that Battlestar Galactica will end badly, however...Sci-Fi better not go and cancel the show before Adama gets his men and that cylon broad gets a couple more good meals.)

My commentary on the Battlestar Galactica finale.

No, I didn't actually go offline.

Although that would have been clever, had I left it with a whole diatribe about hy hours on the computer and then actually did leave. I could have said I did, but then I couldn't say I've been to imoscar.com and it was funny.

No, actually what I have been doing since Monday is attempting to gain control over the faulty hyperdrive that is my brain. This week's plan was to excercise. Oh my. I don't like to do that, because if I'm going to travel 0.8 of a mile, I want to be somewhere else when I'm done. But no, I went back to my well-chewed ski machine named Faisal with the broken arm, and have since spent a total of thirty minutes going nowhere at a rate of 0.7 mph. RAWR.

Should I explain the description? Okay, sure, why not. In the '90s, we got a ski machine. I ended up being the only person who used it, and I name things. In the winter olympics of 1994, there was a cross-country skier who could not compete, or he did, but he came in last...it was a long time ago. His name was Faisal, he was Moroccan, and I believe CBS was trying to find the next Eddie Edwards. I aspired to this great height, and named the ski machine after this guy that could go maybe 0.2 of a mile faster than me...but so much further. Not really, it was joke, and it stuck. Because things stick with me. Then the following year, my puppy ate the plastic trim on the ski machine. About two years back, my strapping right arm managed to break the oft-welded "ski pole" off the machine again, and this time, it was not welded back on, but tied on with some telephone wire. Telephone wire is strong, man.

So, ten minutes on the ski machine is ten minutes I'm not at a keyboard, and while that's good for the most part, I haven't gotten to catch up on some things. Being this blog was never meant to be a log of my daily brain farts, I sorta didn't have anything else to report. Except that I need to lose 12 words from something as soon as possible. Also, I am having difficulty with the "End of the Line" mission in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. Past posts may have indicated that I couldn't afford that game, but the sudden rush of people getting the game away from the innocent children (that shoudn't have had it in the first place) made one copy available to me--legally, too. Shocking. I *heart* Wu Zi Mu. I would also like to make it known to the world that my grandmother staged an elaborate Las Venturas casino heist, and is really good at jacking motorcycles and shooting gang members.

No, I didn't actually go offline.

If ever I would leave you....

You know, I've had computers for a long time. 24 years, I think. First, it was an Atari 400, then a 130XE, then I got into the IBM-PC compatibles and it was really over. The Atari 400 was good for games like Congo Bongo, learning things like States & Capitals, and programming things like a square-headed guy walking halfway across the screen before hitting an error on line 200 which turned the guy's head into a triangle. The 130XE, however, had a disk drive attached, so I could save the crap I'd programmed and written, and Epyx's Summer Games kept me occupied for months on end.

Then one day in 1986, I was on line in Rite-Aid, which was called Drug Palace at the time--but that's a post in itself--and sort of almost blacked out. I just sort of...greened out. Had to leave and sit down. Was it all the hours spent sitting in front of the Atari? I don't know. But this past year, since I've been doing everything at the computer--photo retouching (I do that), the comic strip, writing--I've been not at all well. I have, in fact, just last week, gone past greening out and hit the floor. I was standing at the time, trying to put a parental lock on Fox News.

Living in the wild frontier of The Bronx, I have to do my own doctorin', so I'm not 100% sure it is the computer. I could be developing the heart condition that killed my father and his mother, or I could have the diabetes that his father had. (Thanks...daddy.) Then again, many women on my mother's side of the family have just passed the hell out at inopportune times for no definite medical reason at all, so maybe I got off lucky with the genes. I go on Google and look up a bunch of vitamins and herbs from time to time, but when I take most of those, I don't sleep. Not sleeping tends to make me loopy, so it's sort of a circle of crazy.

Anyway, I thought to myself, let's find out if it is the computer...go offline for a few days.

Okay, I can't go offline today, because I have a strip to do.
I can't go offline Monday, because Arrested Development returns, and I watch TV on my computer...because I'm a geek,
I can't go offline Tuesday, because I'll have another strip to do.
I can't go offline Wednesday, because...well, I'm not sure, but I'll figure out some excuse.
Thursday, another strip.
Friday is Sci-Fi Friday. Can't miss the season finale of Battlestar Galactica now that I've seen one episode.
Saturday, well...you know, I also have my Dish receiver radio stations playing through the PCTV, so...I need the computer on to broadcast my satellite radio to me in the yard. That's my excuse for Wednesday, too.
Rinse and repeat.

If I went offline, things would pile up. Most of all, I'd get no writing done. Writing on paper with a pen is not an option, because that's too involved. First, I need to find the right pen. Then, I need to write clearly, because I won't know what the hell I wrote after maybe three minutes. I also get a sort of writer's cramp. Also, writing on paper is useless to me because if I'm going to have to type something into the computer anyway...like Frank Sinatra, I'd rather do it in one take. Unlike Frank Sinatra, I'm not all cool and in the position to make weird stipulations like "I only write first drafts," because my first drafts suck.

So. That's what I wake up thinking most every morning. See you tomorrow.

(btw, today I had the added horror of having the music from Shall We Dance? burned into my head. I'm not so positive about the non-Japanese version of that movie.)

("I have a strip to do," just looks way dirty.)

If ever I would leave you....

Challenge!

Here's some fun for you weekend party-goers:

Stand on one leg, fold your arms, then close your eyes (read the rest of this first) and try not to lose your balance.

I read that it's actually a test to see if you've got strong ankles.

Don't do this near stairs.

Challenge!

Daily Posting -- two for two ain't bad.

I like pie. I don't get to have pie often, and this is most likely why I still like pie.

Also, I made the effort to turn on the Sci-Fi network today, and I found Firefly. I liked Firefly, and it only took me three years to find that out. Somewhere, the squid of RASSM are happy today.

I left Sci-Fi on, and now I am currently watching two guys beat each other up on Battlestar Galactica. The original series with Lorne Greene used to scare the crap out of me, I have no idea why...but the end credits to Star Trek used to scare me too...I was a weird kid. I watched Alien about five times, but...Lorne Greene scared me. I don't think Bonanza had that effect, though.

Okay, commercials are over, HOLY CRAP, ARCHIE'S ON BSG!

Daily Posting -- two for two ain't bad.

Three random notes.

To Ms. Lourdes Bergamini:

You do not live here, stop telling everyone you do. I am not keeping your mail, as the medical bills are not even an interesting read. I hope the postman knows where to find you when he gets that postcard back.

....

To the dolphins who washed out to sea during Hurricane Katrina, I hope you guys have a plan, because I recently said you were the most brilliant creatures ever. I mean, it's lucky that dolphins are pretty good swimmers, but unluckily, these lived mostly in captivity and just sort of sat there waiting to be rescued. I guess there is good fish to be made in the aquarium circuit.

....

I'm not going to post messages to the New York Radio board anymore unless I know what I'm talking about. First, I freaked out because I forgot Chris Botti wasn't on Fridays, and now I've accused Emmis Communications of taking away my happy station when all they're planning to do is send people on vacations.

Silly, silly me.

Three random notes.

OMFG.

That's about my summary of current events. A more detailed opinion begins with me wondering how pathetic an emergency response to Terror™ would be, and it just spirals downhill from there. You don't want to read it, because really, you're probably already thinking it. Unless you've got a bunker high in the hills like that dude from In The Year 2889 and you're covered.

So yeah, I'm trying to avoid all the news networks and thanking the great Goodyear blimp that floats past my house that the US Open is on. That way I can make fun of the Williams sisters for not knowing what happened down south and I can feel good about myself because I know what's going on. Because I'm not entirely feeling good about myself these days. I was supposed to be rich enough to donate loads of money to animal rescue by now, you see. My master plan is failing.

The reason for this may very well be that I am a poor communicator. I received a reply to my note to Church & Dwight, makers of the Fabric Softener Sheets of Doom, about the allergic reaction I had to their product. I'm not kidding, I really wrote to them. I was PMS-ing, and felt it was better to take it out on the sellers of such crap rather than the buyers, who did not take fondly to my criticism of their choice in dryer sheets when I told them why I was loaded up on Benedryl. My original note went something like, "What fabric softening agents do you use? I had an allergic reaction to them," which right there was probably not the swiftest thing to tell them.

Remember kids: if you're allergic to prescription medication, nosebleeds are nothing compared to itching; if you're allergic to dryer sheets, itching is nothing compared to total central nervous system failure.

Right, so I really didn't expect a response of any kind, but I got one. And here it is:

Dear Ms. Naclerio:

Thank you for visiting our web site.  We appreciate your interest in our
company and our products.  It is nice to know that you enjoy using Nice'n
Fluffy® Fabric Softener Sheets, Mountain Rain.

At Church & Dwight Co., Inc., we strive to manufacture products of high
quality and performance that meet genuine consumer needs.  It is
gratifying to learn from you that our efforts are recognized and
appreciated.

The information that you have requested is proprietary.

Again, thank you for taking the time and having the interest to contact
us.

We hope you will visit our web site again at: WWW.CHURCHDWIGHT.COM; for
information about our company, products, history, and financial
information.

Marcia Williams
Consumer Relations Representative

I believe I was sent a form letter. Because I don't recall saying I enjoyed my experiences with their product. It amused me for a few hours, anyway, while I used it as another example of how advanced I think humans aren't. We're not, you know. I don't know of many dolphins that pollute the air, or mountain lions that hang around certain areas when they know there's going to be trouble. Then again, the mountain lions probably would eat the dolphins if they had to share a habitat for extended periods of time. Dolphin flippers don't look like they could hold off cats very well, but I may be wrong.

---

I get the feeling I should've just left it at "OMFG! If that happened here, I'd totally be dead now."

*hugs to all the people that lost everything*

OMFG.

How to kill me.

Or at least, give me a reaction similar to that of Clark Kent having his underoos laundered with kryptonite fabric softener.

Xtra Nice 'n Fluffy Mountain Rain Fabric Softener dryer sheets are of the devil. Either that, or they're infused with holy water and I am the vampire everyone has thought for so long. Tragically, I discovered the problem after putting on my pajamas. Oh yeah, and changing my undies, but that's just too much information, that.

Mace and pepper spray are illegal in NY as far as I know, but from here on, everyone wishing to ward me off, carry one of those dryer sheets and rub it into my face when I get too dangerous. It will take me roughly 12 hours to recover, and that's after the use of much water and allergy medication.

The ingredients on the box of dryer sheets says only that it contains "Fabric softening agents" and "Fragrance." At first, I thought it was just the fragrance, because perfume kills me (it does--the voodoo doctor is getting sick of reanimating me) but then, the hives were new. I have written a letter to Church & Dwight, asking what exactly the "agents" are. I don't expect an answer, but still, I needed to question someone, because the universe has given up answering my questions.

---

There are no Arrested Development episodes on tonight at 8. I'm sad, but I'm sure I'll find something to do while I wait for the 9th. The 9th. *sniffle*

How to kill me.

Oh, I found new music in the air from England again. Life is good.

Having been spammed back into posting (Go EGTY! Go far, far away!), I wish to report that I am way behind on my online reading, as I dropped the ball a few days back and once that baby rolls away, it takes a few days to catch. I cannot talk about how exactly I dropped the ball, because it involves my ISP's newsserver, and possibly the FBI. I could blame Arrested Development, but all those late-night re-runs were re-runs of the Friday mini-marathons, and so I still haven't seen most of the first season.

I scored some free movies through Harris Poll. Five years of doing polls finally paid off in the form of The 13th Warrior and An Ideal Husband. I like those two movies. I'm also devoting more time to my attempts to make money, and by money I mean the real stuff, because I can't use my memolink points for about 14 more weeks.

Other'n that, I'm still hatin' on large poisionous spiders and mind-altering drugs. Altering the mind is all well and good, but when vomit and angst is involved, that's when I say it's no fun anymore and start worrying about people.

I'm not even referring to the big news event of last week, which I forgot until just now. Two or three blocks away from my house, 13 people were arrested for running a heroin proccessing plant out of their house. All sorts of weaponry was found in the house along with about 6 million dollars worth of drugs. I'm hoping this means the local drug dealers will now move someplace else, having lost their provider and all. That's right, go prey on other neighborhoods, this "sleepy community" doesn't need you. I swear, the news called my neighborhood "quiet" and "sleepy." That made me proud. Perhaps a lot of people were being provided with a lot of drugs, but it's a nice area.

And that was the local news for the week.

(I'm listening to Gogol Bordello's Start Wearing Purple, which is playing on BBC Radio 1, which has just been added to the Dish/Sirius stations, which I love lots.)

Oh, I found new music in the air from England again. Life is good.

The fate of Goody MacGowan.

Took these pictures a while ago, never got to post them, and lord knows I need to show off my sewing and mad slipcovering skills.

Before, the kitchen witch wore a late '90s fashion that clashed with the current color scheme of the kitchen and dining room.

After, she still doesn't really match the color scheme, but it was the only blue I had, and there is blue and yellow involved in the wallpaper. Really.

At last, Goody takes flight for kitchen witchery.

The fate of Goody MacGowan.

Music that makes me say "OMG!"

Dar Williams and Ani DiFranco remade Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb.

I really do not need to say any more.

Except maybe that I am very, very happy with the remake. Then again, I also like Scissor Sisters' version of the song and I also like Ani DiFranco and Jackie Chan's version of Unforgettable, so I'm, y'know, strange.

Music that makes me say "OMG!"

Where Harvey Keitel goes to eat.

(Because pictures are not always worth 1,000 words, this was the slogan my heatstroke came up with the other day:
"Do you like your pizza with a little extra acid? Are you looking for something quick to eat after whacking the capo of a brugad? Then come in to the Pizza Cleaners."

Of course all take-out orders are delivered by little girls who are pissed off and have guns on them, but now I'm creating a world where The Professional permeates reality, and until I hear Shape of My Heart playing from anywhere other than my computer, I will know this is an impossibility.)

Where Harvey Keitel goes to eat.

I *heart* Foamy

I never realized that Ill Will Press, makers of Eye Stigmata, had more content on their site. I just heard Tech-Support on K-Rock, and having been on both side of the phone, I can only laugh at this.

In other news, I had to cut away a load of dead hedging because the horticultural oil I treated the euonymus scale with can only do so much during hatching season. I guess I can treat them again, if there's anything left. Po' hedges.

I *heart* Foamy

Having just blown my last $5 on Anthony Daniels, I ceased raking and started writing.

Surprisingly, I managed to remember that Arrested Development was on tonight, and so that is why I am sitting at my desk. In a few minutes, I'll be running down the stairs because I forgot to set up the tape for Coffee & Cigarettes, which starts at 9:35 on Sundance. Tom Waits is in the movie, and that is why I must see it.

The commercials during Arrested Development are weird tonight. I count 5 billion spiders and one "If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the chicken."

That last one brings to mind visions far odder than those in the commercial itself, but we're dealing with ad execs that consider "pin-ups" in a firehouse to be other firemen. The Maxwell House commercial where they bastardize Madnesseses Our House? Tragic. Pin-ups are scantily clad women (or I guess men, y'know, whatever)...never forget that. *sniffle*

Having just blown my last $5 on Anthony Daniels, I ceased raking and started writing.

Attempting to blend in.

I watched a few episodes of Arrested Development tonight while I was deleting mail (I swear, deleting seems to be all I do, more than reading) and the show amused me. It is rare that I like a television show that lasts more than 12 episodes (I liked Manimal and Double Trouble, fer crying out loud), so if I ever get a chance to watch it again, I probably will. I could always let my e-mail amass until whatever night the show is on...that might work.

NOW YOU SEE WHY I NEVER GET ANYTHING DONE. HAHAHA.

No, the Kitchen Witch's new outfit is going great, I'm slipcovering her--she was wearing black, red and gray, which were the color of our kitchen some 15 years ago. Long has our witch waited in the basement to get hung again. That...just sounded wrong.

"Goody MacGowan, you have been found guilty of kitcheny witchery and will hang from the ceiling until your thread breaks. May God have mercy on your black, red and grey soul."

o_O

Um. Okay, could be heatstroke.

I also saw a commercial for Battlestar Galactica last night during Rebirth of Mothra 3, so I have now seen some Battlestar Galactica. Yay, me!

Attempting to blend in.

Not sure if I'd want to be Obi-Wan, or be hit by Obi-Wan.

Why didn't my school ever play games like this?

Dammit.

Not sure if I'd want to be Obi-Wan, or be hit by Obi-Wan.

Something I've wanted to do for a while.

Many months back, I thought I'd do what I do best, and come here to heckle the news. Not the real news, because it's not too funny these days, and even if I find some parts of it funny, that could just be my exposure to metals at a young age laughing.

Some of this goes back so far that it's not even in my memory banks anymore, but hey.

Tom Cruise

You wrecked Interview with the Vampire, man. Stop it, for the love of your Xenu and all that's holy in the world! Killing Oprah doesn't even come close to making up for it!

Saddam Hussein not liking Froot Loops

Aww, that's sad. Just think, if all the world could have their favorite cereals, maybe everyone wouldn't be big grumpyheads!

The 'slump' in the summer box office

See the previous two comments above, add lack of Harrison Ford movies, stir. Seriously, though, I had to assure the parents of 13-year-old that there wasn't any blood and gore in the Fantastic Four before they'd let her go see it. The parents, I can only assume, got to see at least one Nightmare on Elm Street in "their day" and are now overcompensating to the max. Stop it, people, before you raise a generation of people that will only want to make movies about asparagus.

Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas -- now with added S-E-X!

That is, tragically, the closest some gamers have probably ever gotten to...ah, I'm stereotyping. What do I know? I mean, it's not like I even can get near San Andreas on eBay. *cough*

Softball being taken out of the Olympics

I totally had to sit through China vs. Japan during the Athens games just to see some Table Tennis. Now, I bet I'll have to endure Water Polo. Someday, man...someday Table Tennis will get the respect it deserves and have the whole overnight show to itself.

Sony paying radio stations to play Celine Dion.

Somehow, I knew this. WPLJ would occasionally spin Cyndi Lauper's version of I Drove All Night, and for that, I was glad Celine Dion remade it. It's because of Dion's remake that Lauper's 1989 remake got popular on the '80s request shows again, and I love Cyndi Lauper.

Which brings me to this:

Faith No More's I'm Easy in a Levi's commercial.

Ten years ago, I used to annoy radio stations -- a certain radio station, anyway -- to play me a song. No, not Misty, but Faith No More's remake of I'm Easy. The station played the song once, during an alphabetical history of modern rock. I waited until 5am to tape the song off the radio that night. NOW, the blasted song's going to be popular to a bunch of new kids, and they'll all think they discovered Mike Patton, and I will have to track all these children down and make them listen to Mr. Bungle. Maybe I'll just wait until cooler weather.

Something I've wanted to do for a while.

Take this season and shove it.

I say, does anyone know a method of raccoon deterrent? Besides one involving a firearm, as I do not have one at my disposal. I do, however, have cats with radar, and they knew the thing was coming over the fence a full ten minutes before I did. Crikey.

All is now well, and the doors are locked, just in case the raccoon wanted to watch TV.

Take this season and shove it.

I'm not entirely sure how large groups of humans survived as long as they did.

I feel that Fox's So You Think You Can Dance was a deferred success. Yeah, that's right...I said deferred success. You know why? Because the Professional Association of Teachers in Britain has said that telling a student they've failed can put them off learning for life, and want a new word for failure. I just wanted to try the phrase out a few times, see if sounded less frightening after longterm use. It does not. I start envisioning bars full of people telling the bartender, "I'm such a deferred success story."

I got more entertainment out of that story than the bad dancers, however, because Fox didn't highlight the really bad dancers enough. I guess the lawsuits from American Idol have scared them off showcasing the really scary people.

Or many I'm just burnt. I went to the store for potato salad, and I didn't recognize the woman that lives behind us. I said it was because I usually see her from far away and laughed, but the truth is my neighbors--with the exception of the the guy who walks his Jack Russell terrier Alexis--look different every time I see them. It's like when they replaced Frisco on General Hospital, Nan and I watched for one hour and never realized the new guy was supposed to be Frisco. Crazy. I only watched General Hospital during the Luke/Laura saga, really. The whole Aztec treasure arc with Jack Wagner sort of sprang from that, and I never watched anymore after I discovered Inspector Gadget.

There are reasons I don't watch much television anymore, and I think I've outlined many of them here. It's just too sad to look back on. Years from now, I will remember Nancy Grace and laugh. Or cry.

I'm not entirely sure how large groups of humans survived as long as they did.

I am unsure how I will ever get anything done.

Between my cramped drawing arm (oh, that's not good), dizzy migraines and rumbly tumbly, I think I shall need to learn to draw by telekinesis and write by telepathy. In the meantime, I have to go.

(One Night In Bangkok is played on the radio more than most ABBA songs...why is that?)

I am unsure how I will ever get anything done.

Check me out! I could work for CNN!

Never mind. *embarrassed cough* Well, at least we all know I wasn't still awake at 7AM, so I'm making some progress.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must watch Michael Palin wander around Asia. At least I know that is, in fact, what he is doing.

Check me out! I could work for CNN!

I anticipate pandemonium.

Howard Stern is no longer on FM radio. As of this morning, his timeslot on K-Rock in NY has been filled by David Lee Roth, formerly of Van Halen. I was a little surprised--as was Stern, by the sound of the phone call he made to Roth's show--that there was no goodbye show after 20-something years, but then, that's the way Infinity does things. I think the only stations I ever heard do official farewell broadcasts were WNEW-AM, WPAT and WLIR, when they left 92.7, so why should one show get the honor? I know generally DJs are fired after they get off the air so they don't flip out ninja-style on-air, but for Stern to just disappear without so much as one last farting sound from so many stations...it's rather rude.

I wasn't actually a die-hard Stern fan, but as a kid I thought Fartman was hilarious, so I'll miss the silliness. But not much, because I shouldn't actually be awake at 6AM. One less reason to stay awake. Hear that, my hyper little brain? There's no one on the radio to listen to at that hour anymore. The end. But, I digress.

I haven't gone to the Radio Info NY board yet, but I'm heading over there as soon as I post this. I'm expecting at least one negative comment about the issue. Ha. Get a bunch of radio geeks together on a message board, and together they will like nothing.

I anticipate pandemonium.

Acronyms that steal my time.

(guys...I apologize ahead of time. This is what most of my posts would be like if I just posted off the top of my head.)

DSL--get working and stop losing sync in the middle of my research.

PMS--Gimme back the last twenty years of my life, bitch!

Okay, no point writing anymore as I'm sure I just drove everyone away.

Wait, come back! I did get to mow the lawn today, as it wasn't raining, and now all the bees will have to go hide someplace else. Oh, and my seven-foot-tall euonymus all have scale. While I'm pissed off about that, it does explain why hosing all the plants down with milk last year didn't do a thing to help. When the "powdery mildew" bleeds upon being crushed, it is not powdery mildew. Learn from my mistake, people.

Does anyone use pokeweed for lettuce? Did anyone expire after ingesting pokeweed lettuce? Would you like some pokeweed? I have it growing where it doesn't belong (everywhere) and maybe I need to send it all farther away than the garbage dump, because it keeps coming back and now it's in my roses, and I ain't going in there after it. It won. *sigh*

Acronyms that steal my time.

All the things I could go on about and I just write the first thing that comes to mind.

Bay Plaza sure looks different up close. Or rather, it looks a lot less cluttered from the other side of the Mini-Golf Driving Range.

I should come clean about something...I don't go out often, and I drive even less often. I used to, but the migraines--among other things--were more annoying than the outings were fun, so I stayed at home and had fun. Saved some money that way, too.

Sadly, the A&P up the road has closed due to a "shift to a non-union distributor" and so I now need to forage for food in another location. The next closest would be Stop & Shop, the other half of that legendary merger "Stop & P."

Keep in mind I stopped going out around the same time that I got my driver's license. I find this humorous now, so you can join me in a hearty laugh at the way things work. ha...ha...hmm.

There are entire malls that have been built in the time since I first said "Ya know, you all go on without me." I no longer know the way around my own neighborhood. There's basically two roads I know really well, and this is The Bronx, there are way more than two roads to anything in this area. I should be ashamed of myself, I know. However, I'm not, I'm kinda grateful I don't have to do a lot of the main roads with the buses and the various construction trucks, because I fear vehicles that are ten times larger than me.

I had thought to myself this morning that I was a wuss compared to say, the crew of Discovery. I mean, they could potentially explode at numerous points in their trip, and all I need to do is avoid buses and sunlight. So with that in mind I set off on my journey and didn't find out until later that the bleedin' shuttle didn't even go up today. Bah.

This entirely long lead-up ends with the news that I reached the parking lot of Stop & Shop, agreed with my mum that I now know how to get there, decided we don't need anything today, and went home. I only passed Bay Plaza, which is a serious traffic jam claiming to be a mall. I'd been to Bay Plaza a few times in the late '80s, when it was first built...I think I bought a Dogloo in the Rickel's there...in 1995...I saw The Phantom Menace there in '99...crikey, I really haven't been out much.

I'm happy to report that almost everyone in The Bronx owns really pretty color cars, though. I got to see several as I drove around asking "do I turn here?" like Sandra Bullock behind the wheel of a speeding bus.

No clue what's going in the A&P building yet, they better put something good in there.

(Many '80s songs played during the writing of this babble. Yay, Psych Furs!)

All the things I could go on about and I just write the first thing that comes to mind.

Oh, the humanity!

Something terrible has happened.

My Dish reciever has problems. It started by dropping Sirius 5 and 6--which, of course, will be where Cousin Brucie debuts this weekend. I didn't know this when the stations first dropped out, so I ignored it, because I had my 22, First Wave.

Today I get the bright idea to call tech support to get 5, 6, Food Network and whatever else was missing back.

Now I have no music stations. I have a bunch of PPV baseball stations and like, the religious stations, and those frikkin' UHF stations I never watch since the second dish I was do desperate for went up.

No music...except FM radio.

*curls up in ball, dies*

I guess I could always play my MP3s, but...it's not the same.

Dish is sending a new reciever, of course, but that won't be here until Saturday. Cousin Brucie will have had his first broadcast by then. AUGH!

Oh, the humanity!

Intent to post.

I see that phrase used a lot on those newsgroups I shouldn't be using (all have the word "audiobooks" in 'em--the only photo binary group I subscribe to anymore is the astronomy group so I can see what I'm missing when the weather is as cloudy as it is now, I'm not into other kinds of photos, unless I need to find bodies for jokes and/or drawing guides) and it always means loads of stuff I probably won't look at is coming down the pipe. It's a tragic fact of my life that I'll get great ideas and even write notes to myself to post about these things, and then I never do it. I insist I'm going to do it someday, but I think I'm out of time for some of the ideas. Like how much I love Xanadu. I really needed to get that across in 1984, when it wouldn't have caused funny looks. ELO's great, though. Michael Beck, not so much, and I would have wanted Kyra to end up with Danny, but that's life.

I got all that deadline stuff done in time, and now, as me mum has told me, I have to do it in the real world now. I will, of course...someday. I just had to finish making doll clothes, and that's done, and once the recipient of the doll sees my work, I may post a picture, even if it won't make sense. It's an in-joke, you see. Even our families don't fully get it.

The rest of my time has been going to playing with the cat in the yard. He likes to play in the yard and if he doesn't get to go outside, he raises hell. I swear, I caught him carving a pentagram in the carpet yesterday. He's doing me a service, though, because while I'm outdoors with him, I'm thinking. I'm thinking of storylines for that comic strip, and I'm thinking of things I can write about. I also think about cleaning the gutters and painting the fence--my mind is about as easily distracted as the cats. One of the cats, anyway. I mean, these cats are twins, and yet one has all the patience and can sit for hours just staring at shasta daisies. The other one, he's the one that needs the stick to chase, and if he doesn't get it, he climbs things to get his own stick to play with. So this week, I have to keep only one cat from damaging himself. Next week, I suspect they'll change places. They do that.

The dog (bless her beautiful hide), has my back when the psycho kitten climbs the curtains. She's enjoying telling him not to do things, I think.

There are pictures, of course...and I'll get to those one of these days, too.

(I changed the station on my radio to learn some new songs, and so I have no clue what's on.)

Intent to post.

Yo-yo-yo...yo.

I keep hearing this commercial for an Oreo jingle contest, and Randy Jackson (the American Idol judge, not one of the Jackson 5) comes on and says he loves that jingle. I'm thinking it's because of the food element, because Randy never seems to like songs on American Idol. Anyway, the commercial's on a lot, and I feel bad because there's about to be very many homeless cookies and cakes down the road.

(Not really, but I wanted to think of a way to go from "Randy Jackson's freakin' me out, man!" to, well, this:)

They're closing the supermarket we shop at, along with the Dunkin' Donuts and Radio Shack in the same small strip. I don't know why, no one does, and it's just tragic. I'm not sure what is going to become of the property, the stores have a huge parking lot, so I guess anything could be built there, but I hope it'll be something useful. I will now need to drive a whole extra mile up another street to get my veggie patties, and I don't want to have to be bitter about that if another storage facility goes up where the old store used to be. We already lost one supermarket to a storage facility, but I didn't mind that so much because the store used to smell like sewer gas.

I mowed the bejeebers out of my lawn yesterday, I even got down with the hand clippers to clip grass out from between the flowers and everything, so I'm sort of dead at the moment.

Yo-yo-yo...yo.

From the "Could have gone into an e-mail" department:

I am a great beliver in the radio as an oracle of the unknown. There are people that open the bible and randomly point to a verse, there are people that consult the Magic 8-Ball...I randomly tune through radio stations.

Just now, something amazingly freaky happened. I'm listening to my jury-rigged Dish receiver/Sirius radio/PCtv on my headphones, and Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes comes on. Sirius 22 does not repeat songs that much, and that they should come up with that song on this day is almost as freaky as when WLIR played that very same song on this day two years ago. I cranked it up both times. So far no one has been nearby while Youssou N'Dour is yelling out of my ears.

Happy anniversary, Mr. & Mrs. xodiaq. ;)

From the "Could have gone into an e-mail" department:

Out of the fog and into the smog....

OMG, it's hot here in NY. I finished all that stuff I had to do, and not a moment too soon, because I am beginning to melt. My foot is missing; I think it may be the puddle in the backyard that the cats poked with sticks earlier.

So...that's what I've been up to. Now, to catch up on loads of e-mails, comic and blog reading, radio station critcism (not Cousin Brucie...why? WHY? Damn you, Infinity!) and sitting around going "Damn, it's hot."

I also have to make some doll clothes before a certain date. I don't use the sewing machine, so this is an ongoing project rather than a day's fun. I enjoy making doll clothes, though, and this is for a very silly, special reason, so it's even more fun. Or at least it will be if I ever get back to the little pants.

(On the radio is a Simple Minds song I have never heard, I think it's called Speed Your Love To Me. At least, that's what it says on the screen. My radio is on my tv, which in turn plays on my computer. Truly obscene.)

Out of the fog and into the smog....

Just when you thought it was safe to touch foliage....

I have black cherry aphids! I think the freeloaders have been living off our cherry tree for a few years, but I never bothered to look at them close enough to see that they are, indeed, insects and not just some weird fungi. The cherry tree is the last of the original trees standing in our backyard, and even though it's all artsy looking from numerous bad prunings, I love that tree. I loved the other two trees that rotted and threatened to kill me so much that I planted new versions of the same types of trees, too, so I may need to seek counseling where my tree relationships are concerned.

My yard has really pretty stuff in it that ends up not looking so great by the end of the year. The hedges have powdery mildew; I tried hosing them down with milk and water, and I swear to this day the hedges smell like someone hosed them with milk. I was told to use light horticultural oil during the dormant season too, but the idea of showering the land we walk on with oil didn't go over too well, and I'm just not ready to use the Round-Up on it all yet. :)

This year, I'm planning on picking up any diseased leaves as soon as they fall, because that's supposed to help. I give myself bad odds following through on that, because as soon as the really hot weather arrives I usually shrivel up in a corner somewhere and cry until October.

So...that was the big news of my day, now I return to trying to beat a deadline, which is probably going to take me all weekend. Writing things about stuff sucks when it has to be good and needs to be done fast. This here doesn't count, this is for fun, even if it was about aphids.

Just when you thought it was safe to touch foliage....

I see things...I see them with my eyes.

The news reported that a terrorist Kung-Fu master was arrested about 15 minutes away from where I live. For some reason that doesn't disturb me as much as the sight I saw during the commercials.

Kool-Aid Man now wears pants.

Kool-Aid Man, the giant pitcher that busts through walls and contains fruity goodness now has to wear kakhi big-boy pants. What is the world coming to?

(Oh yeah, Stevie Wonder's As is on the radio. Yay, Stevie!)

I see things...I see them with my eyes.

Recipes of the weird.

I have a pine tree in my front yard, and whenever I'm standing around (a common occurance), I stare at the tree and wonder what pine needles would taste like.

Keep in mind that I'm not hep to Korean recipes, and had no idea that Kim Jong Il told his people to go eat pine needles until today, when I looked up whether I would die from ingesting pine needles. Seeing they were food in some places made me feel a little better about what I'd done.

I picked some new pine needles off the tree and ate them. They tasted great! I mean, yeah, I drool when I smell freshly sawed wood, so...I probably have more in common with the termites than I care to accept, but...damn, they tasted really good. At first it tastes as you would expect a pine needle to taste, but then there's like....pine juice or something in them. No, it isn't squirrel urine, it tastes like pine.

I just got some vitamin C and may be flammable now. I was also pooped on by a bird, this is shaping up to be an exciting weekend.

Recipes of the weird.

A thought about unfortunate automobile names.

I would not ride in a Toyota Highlander unless it was driven by Connor McCloud himself. Even then, although no one on Scotland's roads would fight him, I'd worry about travelling with the guy.

A thought about unfortunate automobile names.

Drive-By Hi.

Haven't been around, but Revenge of the Sith kicks ass, and the result of American Idol doesn't surprise me in the least. My inner conspiracy theorist screams "rigged," but then it also screams "bigger fan base," and you know, when I saw Constantine come out and sing Walk This Way, I really did think there would be a mic stand duel...but no. Ah well.

I swear Fox puts subliminal "Watch me!" messages into their commercials, because I now want to see that dorky AI dancing edition. Just because it looks really bad.

Speaking of really bad, this happens to even the best Jedi.

Drive-By Hi.

I got your midnight premiere of Star Wars right here.

I just witnessed something glorious.

Oh, and here's a big spoiler:

*ahem*

This is what automotive touch-up paint does to you. Learn from me.

I got your midnight premiere of Star Wars right here.

What I would like Lite-FM to play.

The car and I survived inspection day, and I even got a story to tell...but not now. It's 10¢ listing day on eBay and I have a Vader head that turns into Bespin I've been trying to sell for six years.

But I found this, and was amused/terrified by it: Paul Anka has recorded Eyes Without a Face, The Love Cats, Eye of the Tiger, and more...so much more. I miss regular FM stations that played Paul Anka, I mean, other than Vin Scelsa, I'm not guessing anyone around here will be playing this album any time soon.

(I'm not sure if I'm a good judge, but I'm listening to Wonderwall and it isn't horrible, but then I liked the Mike Flowers Pops version of that too.)

What I would like Lite-FM to play.

My weekend in candy-coated nutshell with letters on it:

Saturday: It's so long ago, that I can't remember. Cypher was good. What I liked about it most was that it didn't have a lot of impossible stuff going on in it, so it beats, say, any movie involving computers made in Hollywood. Yay.

Sunday: was day three after taking my allergy pill, so I had a nosebleed. I love my sinuses. I also finished the "results" of the first round in Galactic Idol.

Today, I finally got the paint to fix my car. What happened to the car, you may wonder, and I will of course tell you. We had a wind storm that came up a few weeks back, and I had been telling anyone who would listen that the neighbor's chimney was looking unwell, but, of course, the antenna attached to the chimney finally cut through it and bricks went a-flyin'. Two bricks landed on our roof, one chip of a brick bounced off my car. My poor, sweet, car.

People tell me my car's old, so I had to wait three weeks for the color to be made up. "GA," is the shade my car is painted. I like to call it dark plum, but hey, "GA" it is.

The label on the paint is fun. Basically I'm going to die or spawn three-headed creatures some day just for opening the bottle, but the color is perfect, so for once I've done something good for my car. Tomorrow it goes for its physical, so that should bring more entertaining tales. If not, I'll rehash some old ones.

(on my radio is Fluke's cover of Blue Monday. Yay!)

My weekend in candy-coated nutshell with letters on it:

Haven't done anything Blogworthy yet.....

but the day is still...well, light, at least.

I'm going to regret wasting the good weather when it's 80 degrees outside and I still have things to paint and prune.

Fade to Grey from Visage was on, but now the DJ is talking. I'm starting to see why Blogger doesn't have a LJ-like current music form.

Haven't done anything Blogworthy yet.....

I lived!

Rite-Aid has restocked with the correct pills and I am cured. I have never been so happy to take drugs. Then again, the happiness could be caused by the allergy pill, because it does make me really, really, really happy for a few days, then...I won't go there, because today, I am too happy!

I converted a PAL DVD to NTSC, and it actually works (oh, happiness)! I had never converted from PAL to NTSC before, mainly because I never needed to, but it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. Unless I have no fear because the allergy pill also cures poltroon (I have now used the word three times in one hour, and I don't know why...something in the back of my mind just makes me want to).

But back to the DVD, the movie is Cypher, a two-year-old, obscure sci-fi film from England starring Jeremy Northam and Lucy Liu that must be so great, it was too good to be released here, the country that gave the film world Return to 'Salem's Lot. I hope that when I finally watch Cypher, it was worth all the work. Even if it's bad, I'll probably enjoy it because I really like Jeremy Northam.

I used to go into newgroups and message boards and pretend to not be a girl. I don't I think I was very convincing, and the squealing about actors, cats and dogs may have something to do with it.

Living on the Ceiling by Blancmange is playing on my computer, and I'm happy!

I lived!

I am not all sunshine and rainbows.

It will never matter how far I get in life, where I go, what I do, I will always have allergies. They're like an evil sister or something, the one you've got to take with you because no one else wants to be around her. It's fun, we just get someplace important, and she jams a buffalo wing up my nose. As I'm dealing with that, she pushes me over into the sand and jumps on my head, screaming loudly and waving a lit flashlight at me. No one else can really do anything about it, because after all, she's my responsibility.

Mind you, if my allergies really were another person, I could just duct tape her to the refrigerator and go far away.

Sadly, they're not. So here I am at the end of another day where the pills I took for the sneezing did nothing but make my nose run really well. The neighbor's kids probably think I hate them, because I wouldn't look directly at them for fear they would see what was going on with my upper lip and run away. I would like very much to sleep, but that won't happen, because the allergy pill is like SPEED. It doesn't stop the allergies, but I can smash through walls better than the Kool-Aid man.

Now playing on my radio: Bhakti by Ishq on Echoes. Even I'm not sure what I just wrote, but it sounds good.

I am not all sunshine and rainbows.