The six random things meme that I never did

The six random things meme that I never did

The Rules
1. Link to the person who tagged you who in this case is Tornwordo, as I seemingly get most of my memes from him
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them. (Not doing this, consider yourself tagged if you're reading)
5. Let each person know they’ve been tagged and leave a comment on their blog. (See parenthetical above)
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

I'll be honest, I do not get the title of this. Should it be a random list of things I've never done? That would be easy. But if you go to Rule #3, well - it doesn't sound that way - do it? I'll just run with it and see what happens.

1. I let Eileen Perry hit me (repeatedly) in 4th grade, as I was told never to hit girls. From then until high school I was considered less of a boy in the eyes of my male classmates. I'm not sure they weren't correct - but not for the reasons they thought.

2. My blood type is A- Just in case I need a transfusion. Keep that in your back pocket.

3. Until my late 20s, I had an immortal fear of needles. I was certain that when getting a blood draw, I would flex my arm, breaking the needle off into said arm. During monthly blood draws as a child, my mother and three nurses had to hold me down while the doctor did the phlebotomy.

4. I tell people Fleetwood Mac "Rumours" tour was my first concert. In reality, two years earlier, my mother dragged most of us kids to Blossom Music Center where we were subjected to the musical stylings of one Mr. Barry Manilow. It is a shame I have never mentioned until now. I blame Tornwordo for this forced revelation.

5. I had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches almost every day for lunch during 1-12th grade. My schools had no lunch programs. The best way to eat a PBJ, is to leave it in your locker for four hours with a piece of fruit on top, where the jelly is almost seeping through the top piece of bread.

6. Part of (but not all of) my self-diagnosed OCD comes with me repeating things in my head over and over again - sometimes for days on end. I cannot shut it off. It is infuriating. I once had a seemingly never ending tape of myself saying "Boutros Boutros-Galli" playing in my head. For weeks. Maybe months.


I don't really tag anybody for these things. If they want to do it - fine. If not - fine. I also found out, I could probably never get through that Facebook '25 Things About Me' list. Six was bad enough.

Adult Education

I cannot take credit for this. I mean, not only did I not do the research, I didn't even find the link, except for that Glenn provided it to me.

The Stranger tells of Wellesley College's student population and their virginity based on their area of study.

I was kind of expecting the Undeclared bunch to fall right in the middle, but clearly I was wrong.

I am sure there are tons of things you can infer from this graph, but you'd probably really need an Anthropology major to sort it all out for you..........and you can clearly see they might (not) be the best benchmarks for determining the hows and whys.

However, you'd think for the proactive, the International "Relations" gals might have started a little earlier - and also been closer in the Spanish and French majors to be a success in their career.


Song by: Hall & Oates

Human

Last night we put a crowbar in the wallet and attended the annual HRC dinner here in Cleveland. As always - it was ok. Nothing more than that, but it was ok.

I always "joke" that it is a bad chicken dinner and an equally bad comedian - both leaving a sour after-taste. And all for the low low low price of just under $200 per head.

At least last year, Joe Solmonese attended (and sat at our table). But since this is not a major election year and Ohio pulled its head out of its collective ass, we've not as needed in the big scheme of things. This year, there was no Joe - and very little outrage.

Black-tie had been going away, so I was surprised to see a number of folks all decked out in it this year. We were not one of these. Someone took our pic - and if they had already sent it to me, I'd be sharing it with you here.......but they haven't. We still clean up pretty good, even if just wearing regular suits.

We had a nice table. Everyone knew each other, save one. The guy has been in town for only two months. Who the fuck moves to Cleveland in January - on purpose? To be fair, he came from Minnesota, so it might be a tad warmer. Or was it from Milwaukee? Either way....... But we had some laughs, though it was very hard to have any conversation.

The drinks were expensive and food....questionable. But it wasn't chicken. It was beef. Beef with truffle mash potatoes. Blech. Not a fan. It looks like something the Titanic may have hit before it went down in the North Atlantic. (and sorry about the disgusting picture.)

There was also no comic. Thankfully. So they had dancers.

They started out with this guy - who did an ok routine, though let's be honest: he was brought in for the men to ogle. It was not as much about talent as it was about body form. Ruckiry (not Jon's boss), we had the front table and could see every frickin' muscle on him. I don't think my gym routines are going to get me to this place - but it would be nice.

The second group were two women who danced to Nina Simone's Feeling Good. It was supposed to represent 'freedom of choice'. It represented every 8th grade dance recital I have ever seen.

The last group had the same guy as above and two other women and honest to g-d, they "danced" to the theme and remix of........wait for it..............Speed Racer. I kid you not. I love when Eileen Flowers just pops into my head and I hear her say "oh...awful!"

The speeches were mostly uninspired and one was even pushing the domestic partner registry. You know the one I bitched about a few months ago (and still am). It gives you nothing more than a piece of paper, no rights and still costs more than a marriage license. This woman had the nerve to say, 'unlike Prop 8, this will not be voted down with our numbers'.

Are you frickin' kidding me? Prop 8 was at least a real "something". This is a nothing. It's a slap in the face. I think I was the only one at our table who didn't break into the obligatory clapping at her "outrage". Nor did she bother to mention that you get nothing with this or that it costs more than straight people pay for every right we are denied. That is where the outrage should be.......but the city council and mayor were there, and g-d forbid you provoke the status quo - though I kind of thought that was what HRC was supposed to be about.

It is nice to see 600 or so gay folks dressed up and showing numbers, but we might skip a year or two before going back. You see a lot of the same folks at G2H2 and the drinks are cheaper. So are the men.



Song by: the Killers

Black Thumb

When you make an effort to blog daily, sometimes you just have to yak about the most mundane things in your life.

Take yesterday - I finally went to the dermatologist to get that frickin' wart taken off my finger. Yes, I blogged about it about a year ago, but it is still there in full force (no Lisa Lisa or Cult Jam).

A dozen or so tries with that over the counter method of freezing did not seem to do the trick. So, finally I just wasn't feeling good about myself still sporting it on my right thumb.

The doctor's office axed me what I had done on my own to rid myself of this now evidence of an existing virus. I told them of the over the counter remedies I tried - in vain. That freezing stuff I bought, apparently, is only -50F. The stuff the doc was going to use on me was more than -200F. Yowza!

I axed him if it would hurt and he said, 'yes - why, did you want me to lie to you?' I said, 'absolutely'.

But he did the first round and it wasn't bad. He commented on how good my pain threshold was. I normally think I'm a wuss, but maybe my perception is off. We did 7-8 rounds of freezing in this session. I lost count.

Yes, I said 'this session' - but more on that in a bit.

By the time we got to round 4, I was feeling it. I would wince and he noticed. But I was a good camper. We chatted during the down time. He really liked my tie. I think he really liked it when I told him it had a name - which I don't think most ties do.

It's called Erythromycin as seen under a Microscope. I think he liked the medical aspects of it. I always liked it too.

We finally quit on round 7 or 8 when my face clearly was showing signs of pain. I was probably happy to keep going if I thought it would work, but he thought enough was enough - for this appointment.

That is kind of when he mentioned that it would take a few sessions to possibly get rid of it. Possibly. All this - and it might not even ever work. Yay me! "If it doesn't go away in 8 sessions or so, it probably never will."

Well, there's a ray of sunshine for you. I could be a hideous freak forever now! Or, a more hideous freak, as the case may be.

The doc was great, but now my thumb hurts. Not horribly, it's just annoying - like me. The wart is now hard as a rock and partially black....or necrotic, or something. My next time back is in three weeks. Lordy, I hope I see improvement by then. I won't really mind the treatments if they work.



Song by: Lori Carson

Queer

I'm just treading water today. I think I've kind of earned it. I'm not proud of the fact, mind you - but sometimes you've just a bad week and you just want to make it through.

So it is a YouTube Friday. Music. Gay Music. Or Pseudo-Gay Music, I guess.

I have no idea who Joel Evan is, but I saw him on Logo. The song was intriguing - for the first minute and fifteen seconds. Then it just kind of goes on for another three minutes. "Wherever you go - there you are" - as lyrics? Who wrote that part - Austin Powers?

The voice is a bit different than I would have expected. And at times he sounds a bit atonal. Or is it just me?

I will give him this - he's cute. That gives him some leverage. The tank top is a bit too queer for me, but I do love the profile shots. I've told you before - it's all in the nose, people - and this guy has got it.



For some reason, the video is a bit stretched or distorted on this here YouTube. It looked a lot better on TV.

Le Ballet D'Or

Spandau Ballet is reforming!!! Whoo-hooo?

Is this anything anyone was ever waiting for? I'd vote for 'no' - unless you are their accountant or collected the rent on their flat every month.

Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with them, per se. But there is nothing right with them either. They are just..............there.

I remember back in the day, my mother seeing them on some tv show singing, "True" - it couldn't have been MTV, as we didn't have cable then - and said aloud: (paraphrasing, but close) "oh, why can't all these bands be nice and wear suits like this group."

I think I bruised my eyelids from rolling the eye balls so hard.

I'm sure she didn't think that of the Beatles when they wore their suits back in 1963, so maybe she had come along with the times - to a degree.

"True" bored the ever-loving-shit out of me. It was a time of decent enough music (though many would disagree), but man, the word "banal" just comes to mind. I give credit where credit is due - their follow-up single, "Gold", was the best song that was never a James Bond theme song (not that it was rejected or anything - I just meant in the style of......).

But other than that? Really - what is/was there? How does reforming constitute anything more than playing rib-fests across the country. They're destined to be double billed with Rick Springfield for g-d's sake! Maybe it will be a throw-down to see who is the opening act.

Clearly they are serious about this little jaunt. They even have an official website. Hell, they were broken-up about 15 years before the inter-highway was even built. Though I don't think anyone other than these chaps were chomping at the bit to snag the URL.

Me? I'm just holding out for the big Modern English reunion. It's coming. Right?



Song by: Counting Crows

The Chain

Last Sunday we had dinner at my parent's house the way we usually do. These gatherings can be completely innocuous, or incredibly painful. Rarely is it somewhere in between. We've been doing these dinners for eons and I imagine they will go on until, well, ummm.... my parents die or go into assisted living or something. Nice thought, huh?

We used to go my grandmother's house every Sunday back in the day. And by 'go', I mean 'dragged by my parents'. The house was huge and cool, but my grandparents were not. It was never for dinner, thank g-d! Just an afternoon visit. Painful!

I like to think the Sunday visits with my folks, for my nieces and nephews, aren't nearly as bad for them. They seem to have fun, but they have much cooler uncles and aunts then I/we had.

This last trip was this weird confluence of events. One of those times that makes me feel old and finally grown-up. I've been fighting the latter all my life, but sometimes you just can't ignore the inevitable.

It started with my sister coming in with a boot on her foot. She had broken a bone in her foot and has no idea how she had done it. As she is about to turn 50 (!), she just said, 'it sucks getting old'. I hear that.

Right about then, my father pulls me aside and wants to speak with me upstairs. Deep down I knew what it had to do with. This wasn't the first of these conversations we have had over the last few years. He wanted to talk stocks and annuities. He was not giving me financial advice - just where they were and what I was to do with them upon his death.

You see, later this year, my father will be 89. And we've had these types of conversations before - me to be his power of attorney and control their living will. I also know how both my parents would like to be dealt with after death. We've never had the 'executor' conversation, but maybe it's implied. I should probably check that out.

The funny (?) thing was earlier in the week, I was driving behind some traffic at 06:45. Someone holding up cars at this time of the morning? WTF! I get closer and who should it be? My mother! Yes, she is 80 and still works daily. Don't ask.

Later I called to tell her if she keeps that up, I will be taking her car keys and license. I was joking, but told her - we'll joke about it now, but know that one day we will have to have this conversation. Why sugarcoat it?

So since she didn't know about my father's and my conversation, we just came downstairs and I did not prep my dad for what I was about to say and just blurted out, "so it's settled, we'll put your wife in a home later this month?" He just nodded. Either he played along really well, or his selective hearing was in place.

One of my brothers-in-law had also dropped off some DVDs he converted from old home movies. Old being 16 yrs old. Not ancient, but still from a dead medium. They were of my oldest niece and nephew - the latter had just been born.

...and there I was, holding and playing with him at 8 weeks old (him, not me). I was just kissing his head and all that stuff and there he was, sitting next to me - watching this. It was a bit surreal. Let's add to the fact that I brought him over some sport coats that no longer fit me, but did him - as he is now 16 and as tall as I am.

In the video I had hair and he did not. Now it is the other way around. Here I was in Florida on crutches due to my leg surgery - and now his mother was in a similar situation.

Birth. Death. Circle of life.

My father and I have an ok relationship and actually have no issue or weirdness talking about these things. My nephew and I have a great relationship and we just sat their silent not mentioning anything on the screen. I'd love to know what he's thinking, but hell, he's 16. I remember 16 - we didn't talk about that shit.

I'm just sayin'.



Song by: Fleetwood Mac

Record of the Month

I figured I'd do a monthly 'what I'm listening to' kind of thing. This could be viewed as a lame placeholder kind of post. And probably it is. But it's my blog! So there!

Have you (n)ever experienced Raul Malo? It's possible you did - when going back a while he was a member of the Mavericks - a group deemed Country, but possibly too hip for that genre. If you weren't Garth Brooks, Alan Jackson or the likes, you had a harder time making in-roads into radio and sales when they were around.

Like the Mavericks, Malo continues that style: Some Country. Part Latin influence. A little Tex-Mex. And more than a hint of Roy Orbison thrown in. His newest disk, Lucky One, doesn't stray too far from what he knows or what he has done in the past. This is not a bad thing.

Malo can mix all those together and pull them off as being pretty original, as no one else out there is really putting those things together. Being Cuban, Malo brings authentic latin vibes to his music, but it is not overpowering.

Malo has always been a strong vocalist, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist - even if he has never attempted to downplay Orbison as an influence. That is not to say that all his songs sound like an Orbsion redux, Roy is an influence, Raul is not a copycat.

There are a number of strong songs on the disk - and I've always been a bigger fan of the things that go more in 2/4 time. The 4/4 stuff is just fine, but I like what I like.

"Haunting Me" is hands down one of the best songs (if not the best) of 2009. The guitar work is good, but it is really the vocals and the vocal arrangement that he totally nails. I have played this song to death and it does not get old.

I really like the title track, "Lonely Hearts", "Hello Again". "Moonlight Kiss" is fun, but it is not a continual play at this point.

As the slower stuff goes, let's get this right off the table: "Something Tells Me" is one of the best songs Orbison never wrote or released. Malo pulls it off flawlessly. He knows when to turn it on and not make it sound karaoke.

It is hard for me, sometimes, to listen to the slower stuff without hearing Orbison ("One More Angel", "Crying for You"). I'm a Roy fan, so it's all good. I think Raul finds it hard to sing slower songs any other way. Or maybe I can't turn off hearing what I think I hear.

Lucky One is a pretty strong album as a whole, but if you're only into downloading .mp3s and not an entire disk, and had to pick only one song, it should be "Haunting Me". ...but there are plenty of other good ones to chose from.

Shopping with Blobby

Yet another installment in the drudgery that is everyday shopping. The camera-phone makes it a bit more fun - though I get looks whenever I take pics of products. Like I care what people think!

This is actually Shopping with Dith.

She sent me this picture, via Facebook, from one of the Carolinas. They are called Keister Fruit. Allegedly.

That's what Dith says, but no Goooooooogle search comes up with any such thing. I think she's making it up. Just look at the butt cracks in them though. I guess they could be 'keisters'.

Yes, I'm stretching today. I couldn't get my Album of the Month post completed in time, so here you have this. Maybe tomorrow you'll have the aforementioned post. Maybe.

g-d! Maybe pushing four straight months of posting is over the top. Maybe I need a day or two off. But I'll probably lose you guys. All 16 of you. Then what?

Talkin' Myself Down

Just more G2H2 pre/during/post bitch sessions stories.

I wasn't fully awake when I posted yesterday. I was just slow to get through the post and it's all I could do to finish and publish the thing. In retrospect, I would have had one post (as opposed to this second one) and the entire thing would have not only been funnier, but flowed a bit better.

....at least in my dream world. I suppose this is why I need an editor. Not that I am great at taking constructive criticism.

I first invited my friend Todd to join me. Not my friend Todd, the porn ingenue. He lives in San Francisco where other male "stars" live. No, this Todd works in finance - which can be just as sleazy, I suppose.

Todd has a wicked sense of humour and he never fails to make me laugh. When I asked him (via email), his response was: I wish I had your courage to go out and consume hundreds of wasted calories that do untold destruction to my body. Bitch. ...so alone I went.

I said in last month's G2H2 post, that these aren't really flash mob scenes. It is all very controlled. The gay organization makes plans with the bars and it's nothing more of a gathering of fags. No one is taking over any straight bar. We're renting, basically. The only one benefiting from our disposable income are these bars. No straights are hurt or even offended in the process. Not even a little.

This time it was at the House of Blues. They have a very small bar and most of the place is a restaurant and a party room. Yes, we were in the party room. 100% segregated from any straight person who did not work behind the bar - which I'm not sure there was even one there.
This I do not get. Why not just have it at a fucking nice gay bar then? Why are we giving our money to these assholes who put baby in a corner! Nobody puts baby in a corner. (For the record - Dirty Dancing is another movie I have never seen. I just know of the quote. I think the first 'b' in baby should be upper cased, but whatever!)

So in I walk in and the hostess goes to me.....she goes.....oh you want the Cambridge room and tells me how to get there. Now I never said where I was going, or if I was just there for dinner or the bar. Bitch. Do I look that gay?

But back I went. There they made me show an ID! An ID!!!! Maybe if I were 30 I'd be flattered, but I am pushing 46. No one is thinking I'm underage or close to it. I made a crack to the other guy behind me, since he clearly was nowhere near the age of 21 either - but he didn't think my crack about "our age" was funny. Bitch.

Then there was the room. Now you just know a gay man designed this room, well since.....someone had to and who do these jobs go to? All I can say is: Worst. Flow. Ever. The bar (only one) all the way at the back of the room. It was like a Great White concert at a Rhode Island in reverse.

...and let me tell you, there is a special place in hell for guys who pay for drinks with plastic. It is $4 for a beer! If you don't have the money - get the fuck out of here! There are 300 thirsty fags behind you - and now the server has to stop, swipe your frickin' card, rip the receipt off for you to sign, etc. Get out of our way. We are functioning and practicing alcoholics - we cannot be bothered by you.

I know it sounds like I'm moaning, and I kind of am. But if you want to interact with a few hundred homos, where does one go? As Todd said, he can't do the gay bars, because by the time they get going, his hair is in curlers and the cucumber slices are already covering his eyes.

Will I go again? Maybe. I would clearly have to set aside my expectations and just go to go. There are flaws in the system but I guess I should just treat it as a bar and nothing else. I don't think I'll go by my lonesome anymore. First, as we saw with Eddie, the potential for me to get into trouble is too high.

I just want to drink and laugh with friends.



Song by: the G0-Go's

Tempted

Beer. The root of all evil.

Ok, beer is made with Hops, female flower cones, also known as strobiles, of the hop plant (Humulus lupulus) and not a root at all.....but I digress.

Last night I went, once again, to G2H2 - or gay guy's happy hour. Once again, I went alone because someone was working late. Once again, I was in a group of 300 gay men.

This time I knew a few more than last time - when I knew no one. There were probably a half-dozen people I knew from past lives, one being from the guy I was chatting with at the last G2H2. He introduced me to a table of men he was with. All were nice, though one guy was a little letchy with me. And D-runk! My g-d, it was 19:00. How long had you been drinking, bud? And a close talker too. A very bad combo.

But while I was at that table, I kept seeing another guy. What can I say? He was attractive - in a way I would find, but I could see that to someone else, they might pass him over on the first go-around. Let me tell you people: it's all in the nose.

Lest you think I was the only one doing the looking, think again. He was doing it right back to me - even though we were at a distance.

Now I sound like a letch - and maybe I am. But I think I was just being friendly. His name was/is Eddie. Not Edward or Ed. He had a great sense of humour or at least tolerated mine. I felt the need to mention his nose - which he immediately covered up, literally.

You know how caricature "artists" pick out your biggest flaw and accentuate it? No doubt for Eddie, it would be his schnoz. Me telling him it was a great nose probably could have come across as mocking - but honest, it wasn't.

The thing is - I didn't know where I was going with all of this. I was being friendly, but let's face it, nothing is coming from this. Nothing can, or should. To say in another place and time I wouldn't have gone for it - who can say? Who can say?

To say I did any of this because of beer would be unfair to the beer industry. They are not the root of all evil. How could they be?

As it was, I got a text message from you know who saying he was down the street and to let's have dinner. I excused myself from Eddie and told him I hoped I would see him again. ...and I hope I do.



Song by: Squeeze

Younger than Springtime

Today is the first day of Spring. Yayyyyyy. It's been a long long time coming.

Granted, it is not actually Spring until 23:47, but the Vernal Equinox still makes under the wire to appear today.

The winter has been a harsh one up here in Northeast Ohio. We got our January temps in mid-November, and they stayed. And stayed. And stayed. We had our second snowiest January - missing the record by less than 2.5".

But March has been ok. I know there are a few more snow storms to come before we're done with this season. There always are. Sometimes even in May - but we're always hopeful. ...and that is something you rarely hear from me.

Yesterday, coming home from work, I saw true signs of Spring.....and right on the side of our drive

Pretty cool, huh?

Before you know it, Morty will be emailing, telling us that college-aged boys are out on the South Oval in shorts playing Hacky Sack.

Maybe we can finally get him to use his digital camera!



Song by: Ezio Pinza

Seven Year Ache

Today marks the beginning of my seventh year of blogging! Seven! Can you frickin' believe it? I can't.

Unfortunately it is also the beginning for the seventh year of the wars in the mid-east. Yes, I started this blog with that intent. I write that part every year at this time, don't I?

I also write how this blog has evolved. As I approach my 1400th post, I do it a lot more consistently then I did back then. Hell, right now I'm going on about 105 days in a row...or so.

In the beginning the posts were as long as Twitter allows tweets to be. I was just funning around then. I still am. The posts are a lot longer then they were back in the day, and every once in awhile might actually have a little bit of substance.

I said, a little bit! ...and might.

The sub-title of the blog is still Stuff & Nonsense (taken from a Split Enz song) because that's what I'm about for the most part. Ask anyone. Or anyone who knows me.

Much like Bush and Iraq, I don't have an exit strategy. While running with the Iraq/blog metaphor, like most of America you probably think I should and wrap this debacle up. But for the moment, I might just run it into the ground until my approval numbers get as low as his did.

HA! Who am I kidding? At my worst, they'd never be that bad!



Song by: Rosanne Cash

Photograph

The iPhone has an app(lication) out that I am loving - and for absolutely no good reason.

PhotoSwap is just like it sounds. I guess. It's easy for me to say that now that I have been playing with it for a few days.

What it is, is basically a random, could be anonymous, social networking kind of app through pictures.

Here's how it works: You use your iPhone to take a picture - of anything you damn well choose. You have the option to use the picture or retake it. When you hit 'use', it just sends it to g-d knows who - since you have no way of knowing where into the ether it goes. You then immediately get one in return from someone else.

I got this one from an unknown chick. A iPhone pic of a reflection of her in her 1st generation iPod. How very meta.

Random for sure. Anonymous - if they choose (or you choose). However, I was getting some photos back that would say something like, "Stan/Straight/32". Whatever, dude!

I'd get some photos coming back that had nothing written. Since I can't see exactly my end result of what I was sending out, I was hoping it didn't have some text attached. Beau told me via Twitter (thank you Twitter - you were finally useful) how to get text on them thar messages.

How I got this info from Beau was that he was seeing folks' text that said 'no gays'. G-d, ya frickin homophobes, give it up. No one is wanting you so badly from a random snapshot that they are hunting you down to do you! No one!

I decided not to do age, sex, location. I'm not looking to hook-up. No, I went one worse. I just put this blog URL on it. Maybe it will drive others to said blog.

As for location, after you hit the 'info button' (see that above pic again), you get a location button'....and it brings up a Goooooogle map. Not an exact location, but a relatively close one, I'm assuming.

There is also a 'reply button', but I have not used that, nor has anyone to me. That's ok, I'm into it for the randomness. Another random feature, one I don't like; the camera does not keep the picture I took. It doesn't go to my photo album, it just gets sent and then goes away, like it never existed. In a way, that's kind of cool, but I can't show you any of my handy-dandy work.

Naturally, the app is free. I just can't see paying for it. But I'm cheap - we all know that.


Song by: Weezer

Progress

There is no real good reason for posting this. At least I don't think. I could have told you where (roughly) I came out on the scale without ever actually taking the 40 question quiz. Not only that, I swear I have taken and posted something like this before, but with over 180 posts that could be determined 'political' it was hard to find.

With 126 unaccounted for points - it seems that the term 'very progressive' would be overstating it, unless if you got to 400 they just branded you a Sandinista.

Most of the questions are clear cut, but sometimes the phrasing of it made me carefully chose my answer(s). If the word 'always' or 'never' appeared, I wasn't so quick to pick the number I initially might have, so I tempered my level of agreement.


I could not find a way to embed this sucker into the blog, so all you get above is a .jpg of my score. However, if you would like to take your own quiz of this - you can get to it by going here.



Song by: Laurie Anderson

Weather Channel

If February and March '09 teaches me anything, it will be to not be too hasty with posting my Site of the Month during the first week of the each month. Some months I struggle to find one that is even palatable enough to throw up there. And yes, you can all make the argument that none of them are, and you might be correct.

Shortly after posting my February one, I found the one for March...and had to hold on to it for another four weeks. Ditto for March - except I had an additional two. And now I decided I cannot wait until April or May to bring you one of them. I just can't. I'm like a frickin' kid at the holidays!

The internets have brought us Weather, WeatherBug and even NOAA for you hardcore atmospheric buffs and cumulus cloud fans.

FINALLY, they have come up with a site that I can relate to: The Fucking Weather.

A site where you put in the zip code and it tells it like it is. You do have to deal with an apostrophe situation, but if you can get past that, you are golden!

The site also gives you some helpful hints to deal with your weather situation, though they are in a much much smaller font.

....now you just have to wait two more weeks or so for my April Site of the Month, though I know I should hold out at least one week into said month to post it, less I forget the lessons of February and March. Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.



Song by: Sheryl Crow

Shower the People

I noticed from day one, but there is an art to the gym locker room. Mostly the shower. 99% the shower.

I have been in communal locker rooms before, and there probably is an overriding theme to how things work, or should work, in getting in and out without any............issues. Nor is there a spoken directive on this. Someone made it so and others, like lemmings, follow. Myself included. Eventually.

For the life of me, I do not remember this being a concern in the dorms. Granted, there were a limited number of people who lived on my side of the hall (it was broken into two wings), and then factor in times of the day guys showered.....blah blah blah. I would say, nine times out of ten I never encountered another Park Hall resident there. Ditto with my fraternity.

Of course, let's not discount that some note got passed around room to room, that said not to be in the shower with me at the same time. Anything is possible.

Maybe now I am hyper-aware of my surroundings.

The actual locker room proves no difficulty. Technically, neither does the shower, so maybe that is the wrong word to use.

There is a shower area and apparently a drying off area. The two activities, apparently should not mix. Who knew? Not me. Not the first two or three times I was there. Not that anyone said anything to me. One just notices the flow of how things are done.

At home, I dry myself off in the shower. I like it that way....and let's face it, I have a pattern. I have self-diagnosed OCD. I have to have it my way. But this isn't home - even if I now shower at the gym more often than I do at my domicile.

The showers at the gym are open, which I guess is fine - as long as you don't have any privacy issues. And while I don't, I somewhat worry that others might. There are pseudo-partitions that separate one shower area from the other, but they are all of 12" deep and hide nothing from the person next to you - and even less if the other showeree (it could be a word!) is across from you.

My dilemma? What to stick out while soaping up? My front or my back? What do people want to, or not want to, see? I thought about taking a survey, but that might just look like I'm coming on to them.

I tend to face in when I shower, but when lathering, mainly the legs, that exposes parts of me some might rather not see, especially when I bend over to do the shin/calf areas. And they are parts I don't really want to show off and make me feel a bit...ummm.... vulnerable. But then if you turn me around and I show off Blobby Jr., it is something in which others might not want to see (though really - who wouldn't want to see that!).

Yes folks, this is what I think about four times per week (five this week, if you include this blog post). I guess it keeps me from seeming like I'm a perv to notice how other guys do it. I'm not looking to get kicked out of the gym for lewd behaviour. Just trying to do the right thing here.

Which brings me to other things I find are a no-no, but where the OCD kicks in. I shave in the shower. The face people, the face!

I have yet to see anyone else do this, but I do. I'm not lingering. Just shaving. I do this at home and in hotels. I am not an at-the-sink kind of shaver. I use soap and not shaving cream. It's all part of routine.

Last but not least is the drying off. The first days I dried off right there in the shower area. I think somehow knew immediately that I breached protocol. Unknowingly, for sure - but ignorance of the law does not exempt one from breaking it.

However, to get to the drying area, you walk past the door to the locker room which has some kind of blower on it and makes you fuckin' freeze to death. It is kind of amazing they don't have a gym full of flu victims.

Now I go grab my towel and do the nelly run past the cold stream of air just to towel off. Just so I don't do anything one of the normal guys would consider "fruity".


They say working-out is just as tough mentally as physically. I just didn't think it would be due to all of this stuff.



Song by: James Taylor

She's No Lady, She's My Wife

Let's face something right now: I probably would not have even started a blog if it weren't for Rebecca.

I won't go as far as to say she made me to it, but she encouraged me to and I love that I caved to her wishes. She also got me to join Twitter and helped goad me into that entire Facebook vortex (George's description, not mine - though he is 100% correct).

If she has her way (and Jon too), and I get a new MacBook, you might see vlogs here. MIGHT. That is months away, unless my PowerBook gets hit by space debris falling to earth.

Morty, Jon and Dith get some exposure here, but Rebecca probably gets a bit more. I don't mean to play favourites, but she does have a novel (!) and actually has provided me with some great bits to use here.

I waited for a few days for her to post this - but she didn't, so I am claiming it as my own - though it is totally hers. Except for the writing and posting part. She provided the link. But really, that is about 67% of it - right?

It is nice to see that lesbians don't have it all together, like they are usually portrayed. It is usually us pansies that get the bad rap for homosexuality. We put things in places they allegedly do not belong. I mean, except for Morty George.

You can certainly read the article, but I'll just tell you now the highlights are: lady same sex marriage, getting 'all liquored up', brother's semen, turkey baster, and attempted forced insemination.

Whooo-hooooo. Liquor in the Front, Gamblin' out Back!!!!

Seriously, how tragic.......and yet hilarious. Yet I'm sure come election time, it will be a reason for the Right to campaign to repeal same-sex marriage in Massachusetts.

And as it turns out, this is a post Becky could have never written. She lives to close to this, what I can only assume is a double-wide. Those "gals" could come over and do some major damage to her if they ever found her.

I'm assuming they'd hold her down and draw some new eyebrows on her as their revenge.



Song by: Lyle Lovett

Hard Times

How much tougher can this economy get?

GM. Circuit City. Madoff. U2 selling only 484,000 copies of their shiteous new disk in a week. The horror of it all!

Now word on the Street is that Mr. Hooper, Gordon and gang are cutting 20% of their staff. Yes, the folks on Sesame Street are getting the axe.

I guess Mr. Hooper doesn't really have to worry, as he's been taking the big dirt nap for a decade or two now. I have no idea if Gordo and Susan are even still on the show. They must be grandparents by now, no? And what has become of Bob McGrath?

Not that they are asking for one, but if the Children's Television Workshop ever asked for a bailout, it should be turned down. Flat. No one on that block ever pulled their weight

To be fair, after Hooper died, the only one on that block who had a job was my personal favourite, Grover.

Oh, Grover might not have been the most competent waiter - but he tried. It's more than I can say for the rest of them.

Where did Cookie Monster get cash for his habit? Maybe that's why he always stole his sweets? And while I love the Count - just counting things isn't a job, unless you are a mathematician. I don't think he was.

Of course, they were frivolous with the clumsy waiter who would always drop the 10 banana cream pies.....or whatever the sponsor number of the show might have been that day. But on a daily basis, they lost tons of food due to waiter error. Not Grover.

I'm not even going near Ernie & Burt. Two confirmed bachelors, sharing expenses with their disposable incomes are rarely affected by such an economic downturn. Too bad Mr. Noodle's brother, Mr. Noodle died a few years back. I'm sure he's turning in his grave.

The only one not feeling a change of course would be Oscar. He's already used to living on the street and eating scraps.

Elmo however, can rot in hell.


Song by: Emmylou Harris

Record of the Month - Classic

Another installment of a disk I have enjoyed over the years. I'm trying to keep the Record of the Month posts to be fairly new releases. Classics are going to be ones that are at least 5 years old.

There are not too many artists (if any) the likes of Gillian Welch. In the big scheme of things, she is fairly unique.

Parts folk, bluegrass, hill music and talent. She and partner David Rawlings put together their most cohesive disk with Time (the revelator).

'Spare' is the best adjective I can think of for the album. The music is stripped down to its most basic, but that makes it no less appealing. It brings out and shows off the talent of Welch and Rawlings.

Welch is an incredible songwriter and can translate those from paper to tape....or probably computer these days. Maybe tape back in 2001.

The title track is without a doubt my favourite on the disk. It is almost a shame that it leads off the set, as it could make it hard for others to live up to it. The good new is, the rest of the songs are equally as strong.

"April the 14th, pt 1", "Elvis Presley Blues", "Everything is Free" and "I Dream a Highway" are all stand-outs, but the rest ain't filler.

While not a household name, nor probably ever will be - she has achieved commercial success in the ways of compilations and songwriting - performing on the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack and writing the title track for Alison Krauss + Union Station's New Favorite.

Granted this music will not appeal to everyone, but even those who might not buy it I think can appreciate the talent there that the two possess. I really have found myself liking bluegrass and folk music, so it works for me.

I will say this, months after I bought this and someone stole a number of disks out of my hotel room - it was the first one I went out and replaced. Yeah, it's that good.

Mr. Sandman

I have this friend, Sal. Honest.

He's not like lame sitcom dialogue, in "I have this "friend", way." He's an honest to g-d living, breathing, human being. He lives in Philly. So maybe he's not "living". For g-d's sake, he lives in a town that has a National League team! ewww.

Anyhoo, we were talking the other night and he starts laughing. Like many of us do while on the phone, he was multi-tasking. With Sal, that means going on-line to look for...well.....some might call them 'dates'. Most would call it, a 'hook-up' or 'bootie call' or something.

Let's call it what it is; he was cruising on-line.

I know which site he was on, but won't reference it here. Let's just say there are legitimate aspects to said site - not that finding tail isn't a legitimate aspect. But they have articles and information about lots of things. But that's not what Sal was looking for/at.

So why was he laughing? Because of this profile:

Visit me in upstate NY expenses paid-jerk me off with pliers, sandpaper, and steel wool, burn my dick, beat my balls, and ream my pee hole with an electric drill, send a private message!!

Allllllllllllllllrighty.

Actually, Sal had me laughing so hard reading it, I made him promise to copy the text and email it to me - which is why and how you have it right this very second.

At first I thought he was making it up, but really - who could do that? It fell off his tongue too easily to be fabricated on the spot. We deteriorated right into me asking him to ask the guy what grade of sandpaper would he require. Sal shot back with, Palm, Orbital or Belt? He actually sent the guy a message - to which the guy did not seem to get the question. Or the joke.

There were some things about fiberglass too - on our end. Well, we thought it was funny. Maybe it had just been a long day.

So, naturally I knew this would end up here eventually, but I shared it with my trusted email group beforehand. It ran the gamut of comments actually. Jon had the best worst ones - ones I am not willing to share here. Let's say he gave me the same initial reaction I had when Sal read me the posting: to cross my legs and cover my genitalia.

If my sex life is vanilla, so be it. I don't need a Brillo pad or a Dewalt power drill to spice things up. Why anyone would wanted to do that to their schwing-schwong is beyond me.

Dity of course, cursed us for our conversation. Not because of the graphic nature, but because Gooooogle started sending her ads that said www.aaabrasives.com/catalog . If you haven't noticed, Yahoo, Google and the likes will tailor their ads to what you're writing or reading. It is so 1984.

Anyway, back to Sal's potential suitor:

On one hand the ad is completely sick and twisted. But on the other, it is an all expense paid trip!


Song by: Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton & Emmylou Harris

Ice

Becky already posted her picture that she took on our way to lunch the other day. Now, you have mine. (as always, click to enlarge)

It seemed funnier when I took it. Becky liked the chin hair on the gal guy. Of course we would have liked it to say: Feathers. Sequins. Plunging Necklines. ...and then there are the women's outfits.

But you work with what you've got - and nothing says "men's" skating like "attitude". Style goes without saying!



Song by: Sarah McLachlan

Rodeo

Believe it or not this has nothing to do with ropin', ridin', and whatever else one might do at a rodeo, save staring at cowboys in chaps.

But no, this has nothing to do with that either.

My sister (or one of them, I should say), is selling their Isuzu Rodeo via Craigslist. A side note: 12 years or so ago I had one of those trucks too - and it was one of the best vehicles I ever owned. I should have kept it.

Neither here nor there though. This is one of the responses she got back from her ad. You actually have to click on the image for it to embiggens. I don't think you can read it otherwise.

Names & email addresses have been changed to protect the innocent.....or the weird.


I got the email from her right before having lunch with Becky and Andrew on Saturday. I passed the iPhone around the table and we laughed and laughed.

My response back to my sister was: hold out for a 12-gauge.



Song by: Garth Brooks

Old Friend

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of dining with world state county famous author, Rebecca Flowers.
She being in town for her father's birthday; me just being in town for my every day. She is one of my oldest (not in age) friends....and one of the best.

Becky was staying a posh-like hotel that had little air conditioning and no cold water - just scalding. This is how the rich and famous live apparently. It is a life I'll never know, as we can't seem to get more than tepid water from our spouts. But I do imagine getting 2nd degree burns while trying to brush your teeth in that environment.

Becca had to remind me that we had stayed in that same hotel before. Morty, Becky, Dith and myself. I had totally forgotten. I remember being at her parents, then mine, while Becky was at a wedding reception at the country club where my parents belonged (did you follow all that?). Naturally after that we ended up at a gay bar. Those poor girls and what they had to endure for and with Morty and myself.

I remember Morty being drunk (duh) and putting a dollar down some random guy's pants - and me going back in and retrieving it.

Poor Mr. Becky, just sitting there listening to this story while we tried to eat our lunch.

Oh - there were other stories too. Houston. New Orleans. New York. Even Dallas, a trip of which I was not apart ("nice car!" "yes, you mentioned that last night!"). Mr. Becky said he wished he had some of these experiences, but that is the talk of a crazy man.

Then we went into who had the more crazy family - her or me. I think it was a draw - for different reasons.

Becky's husband is great and I really liked him from the moment I met him. Her kids are great too. Four is extremely cute these days. I got to see her parents too and wished her father a happy day. Even after five hours together, I still got to beat a path out of there without encountering all I may have had to.

Yes, I'm being vague here and sorry for that. Sometimes it is a necessary. It will speak to some, but not to most. I apologize.

Becky did another podcast that is coming out at some point. The host asked her about the blogs she reads and mine was mentioned specifically. I don't know if it will make the edit for the actual podcast, but if and when it does, you know damned sure I'll post it here.

We took a few pics too, but none of them are that great. By the time we got to pic #4 we both decided we were trying too hard and just stopped.



Song by: Loudon Wainwright III

03:45 No Sleep

Ok, I wasn't up this early, but not too far after it either.

I'm a borderline insomniac. I have been for the last decade. Five hours a night of sleep for me is not uncommon - and rare if it is five hours in a row. Oddly enough, I'm not too bad with it. At the very least, I've learned to cope with it.

I can fall asleep in a heartbeat - I just can't stay asleep.

This awake time should be used for something more productive, but it isn't. Actually, for the ten years or so I've been like this, you think I would have adapted to what my body does - or doesn't do, in this case.

Here is what I do. My alarm is always set, on the off-chance I over sleep. I'm not sure I've heard it go off too many times. Most of the time it is on after I get out of the shower, change and eat breakfast.

Here is also what I do. I wake up at 04:30 and there I lie. I think of things I have to do - usually at work. I think horrible thoughts of 'what if Denton dies before I do'. I think maybe I'll go back to sleep. It is especially that last one that baffles me. I don't go back to sleep, not really. Maybe for a 10 minute eyes closed kind of thing, but I'm never truly back to sleep, yet I can't drag my sorry ass out of bed.

First - I don't want to wake Denton. Secondly - I don't want to disturb the cats. They sleep right next to me, on either side. They seemingly need me there and what would happen if I were to move? Thirdly - what would I do? TV? No. Wash dishes - probably not. The gym isn't open that early and I'd have to deactivate the alarm to get out the door, which would wake up the firstly and secondly feature of this paragraph.

So I lay there.

I am hoping (or I think Denton is) that my new exercise routine will change my sleep patterns. It would be nice I guess. I do not seem any worse for the wear, but that might be delusional on my part. And I'm not alone. CNN says folks in the U.S. are getting less and less sleep: 6.7 hours a night as an average. I should be so lucky! And I am bringing down that average.

Tonite (well, tomorrow morning actually) we set our clocks one hour ahead. Yay for me! One less hour of sleep!



Song by: the Cardigans

Lost

I've mentioned here more than once about having self-diagnosed OCD. It isn't really as much about washing things over and over as it is about repetition and well....repetition.

Going to the gym is just as ritualistic for me as any other task. How I pack my bag, as to how I unpack it and put stuff in the locker. I want it so when I come out of the shower, the clean undies, t-shirt and socks are right there for me. My keys, wallet, ID and iPhone are in a certain place - as is my tie after I get my suit on.

So maybe it is the change in my morning routine that has me all bamboozled. I am used to getting up early, but not really doing a thing except reading the paper - and having the same cereal every single morning. Repetition.

But for the last four weeks, two days a week, I am at the gym by 06:00. In the last two weeks, I've either left my wallet at home, or forgotten a change of underwear. This is unlike me.

Yesterday was 'abs day'. I still do my cardio and upper body stuff, but I've been incorporating abdominal routines into the workout. I am so gonna be a looker.

My gym is right across the street from an entrance to my workplace. In the side pocket of my gym bag, I keep my wallet and my ring. I know I shouldn't take my ring off, but I hate wearing it while using the weights and machines.

In the lobby of the building is one of those big kinetic sculptures - the kind with the like eight balls that drop, spin, go down windy slides and make all kinds of noise. It sounds like this doesn't matter, but trust me, it will.

I stop in the cafeteria to pick up a little box of raisin bran and head to my office to eat it. Up there, I realize I didn't put on my precious. I dig into my gym bag and there was nothing there. I call the gym to have them check the locker room, but they found nothing.

It was then I remember digging into my gym bag to get my wallet for the damned box of raisin bran. It was then I remember hearing a dinging noise near the kinetic sculpture....a dinging noise that was not from the sculpture.

I flew down seven flights of stairs and over two buildings, but for nothing. I looked and I looked but it is hard to see silver on a white terrazzo floor. Oh, and that a few hundred people were coming into work and had a few hundred opportunities to kick it across a lobby.

Frick!

I was sick about it.

I called security, but really did not think anything would come of that. In these economic hard times, it would not have surprised me that someone found it and would hawk it for a 32 oz bottle of malt liquor.....or rent. Whichever.

I did try to call Denton to tell him, but the man never picks up his cell. Ruckiry (not Jon's boss), an hour later, security called - they had it! An hour after that, I went down between meetings to get it.

They gave me the name of the guy who turned it in, so now I guess I owe him. My "friends" had some crass ideas of how I should repay him. Kris is hoping he'll be 25 and hot. I am hoping for 35.

Morty's idea of Starbucks gift card was the only legitimate one....and a good one at that. I think I'll up it 10x more than the $2 Mort suggested.

And it seems I will have a new ritual. Working out with my ring firmly in place.




Song by: Sarah McLachlan

Cancer

I have one post out there that is seemingly more popular than the others.

Don't get me wrong, it's not getting 1000s of hits per day....or even a 1000 hits, period. Total. It is just one of those posts from the almost 1400 I have done, has risen to the top of the pile - and what a pile it is.

The post title, Diagnosis, is two and one half years ago and documented how and when I found out I had cancer. I tried to balance the facts, the seriousness of the situation along with humour. Let's face it, I'm all about the humour. And yes, I did find things and ways to laugh about the situation.

Chondrosarcoma (or Chondrasarcoma - not sure why the spelling differs now and again) isn't a horribly well known cancer. We have no celebrity advocates having walks, swims or telethons for it. Bronson Pinchot! Where are you when we need you?????

Hell, we don't even have a cool web site with any flash properties.

I also followed up the diagnosis post with one regarding of my surgery and rehab - it was called Bones. That post doesn't even fall in to my top 10 posts. You'd kind of think that one would be of more interest to folks who are researching the disease.

Of course, I'm assuming people finding these posts are not your medical community doing research. They are looking at academic sites......I would guess. No, I would think that these are everyday normal folk who have just found out about themselves or a friend/loved one/co-worker who has been told this news.

It is because of that, and the pseudo-popularity of these posts, I have to say one thing somewhat surprises me a bit: not one comment has been attached to either post. Not one email has been sent to me via a reader who has gone out of their way to do a search on the disease, found these links and then still clicked on the post. I kind of thought someone would have questions I didn't address in those writings. I guess I'm wrong. No biggie.

Clearly, I'm no expert on the disease. Just a survivor. But sometimes that's all you can ask for - right? Mine was the luck of the draw. Truly luck.

Today is 16 years to the date from my surgery (yes, Tornwordo, it's that memory thing of mine again. no, I didn't have to look it up, I just know.)

I always wanted to post pics of my scar - and now I am. I wish I could get you the pics of my x-ray, but you can't do that on a standard scanner, and if you really looked at it, it might not be suitable for work.

I can't say my father was thrilled, but I made him take this top picture of me. The leg is still quite swollen, but the bruising was not nearly as bad as it had been. It is hard to see, but running up the leg are 27 surgical staples.

This is me a few weeks later. Swelling is down even more. The staples are out - obviously. But they leave cool marks, huh? The extra two marks are from the drain that was in my leg. The hair is beginning to grow back too - which was another pain altogether.

The scar is still there. The plate is still there. The nine pins are still there. I'm still here.




Song by: Joe Jackson

Cover Me

I don't really have a lot to say today. I do, but nothing I'm really wanting to at this point. Eventually. Maybe. "I'm not promising you anything, Whoopi!"

But I'm on a quest to have at least 100 days of straight blogging and I have like 10 more to go, or less. Count your lucky stars.

I've done one of those meme posts here and there, but never tagged anyone. Nor did I ever know anyone who has taken me up on the thing. So colour me surprised when at least three people did, from my post two days ago. Three that I know of.


I have to start off with the person who started it all: Kris. It was her meme actually. But I know the other folks used it from my blog - but she gets the props. Hers is so Jenny Lewis, it's eerie. Loving it!

Jon doesn't have a blog (yet!). But he took up the cause. ...not that it is a cause. I LOVE his album title. It fits him so well, you have no idea. I'm not sure what to make of the Transformer-y cover. To be fair, he doesn't either.

Sean had a good one too. I love the image. It's a little Augusten Burroughs, but whatta gonna do?

Birdie's is the one I really like (next to mine, of course). The image. The font. The creative text placement.

All are impressive because none of these were a slam dunk post. They took a lot more time than anyone really thought they would - present company included! So they showed commitment.

If anyone else out there has done it, I'd be happy to add to this post, or do a sequel to the sequel post.



Song by: Bruce Sprinsteen

Accidents Never Happen

Another winter day. Another accident outside our house. Though sometimes you can hear the crash, usually it is the lack of sound that signals there has been a crash.

This is from last Saturday. The roads weren't even that bad. Actually, they weren't bad at all. I never know why they lose control on this hill. Most of them end up in our yard - like this one from last year.

With three lanes, two of them were blocked by the car and the emergency vehicles. I was thinking I might not make it to the gym. But it really wasn't too hard to go around them.


Actually, I took the first shot through the screen - by accident. But it is a cool shot - isn't it?

See?

I'm sure it is wrong of me to think, but I just assume if you can't keep it together on a mostly dry road, you're probably just drunk. Yeah - that's it.



Song by: Blondie

Put Your Record On

It really has been tough to blog with zero breaks. It might be time soon for at least a few days, but I'll announce that when it actually happens. In the meantime, Kris, over at My First Gray Hair, has put up her meme kind of thing from I think Facebook:

What would your own album look like if you were in a band?

Follow the directions below and find out...Here are the rules:

1 - Go to Wikipedia. Hit “random”or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random. The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 - Go to Quotations Page and select "random quotations"or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3. The last four or five words of the very last quote on the page is the title of your first album.

3 - Go to Flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days. Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4 - Use Photoshop or similar to put it all together.



I do not have Ye Olde PhotoShoppe, but GraphicConverter. Because I have almost no idea how to use it, I did cheat a bit and had to change the name of my band. I could not fit it on the album cover, as I could not figure out how to change the font size.

The original band name was soooooo much better: something like Heteromonology (though that isn't quite like it and I didn't write down the exact spelling).

I also edited the quote to three words, as four or five would have been: dead and tortures the living. I guess that could have worked too. But the three word one worked so well with the picture. I still think I would have had space/font issues if I went for the longer version.

I'm not sure the picture could have been any better.

So, what's yours?



Song by: Corrine Bailey Ray

Site of the Month

Man, I am just knocking these out on or about the first day of the month, aren't I?

This month you get two in one posting. Mostly because they are similar in nature.

At my last job, the two bosses I had in a two year period and I had an unofficial running contest on who could find fun grammar mistakes. Thank g-d, they never found this blog, or they could have easily won that game.

For a while, I was the only one to take pictures of the stuff I found, but later, Marty did too. David would only point things out. I don't remember him ever presenting us with a picture (but if you really want to piss him off, use a lot of exclamation points. He HATES that!!!!!!!)

It all started off with the wrong use of an Apostrophe and how often it happens. Not so much on the "its" or "it's". We are talking words that don't normally use the apostrophe.

David found a Flickr group that is dedicated to people submitting photographs of what they come across during a normal day. Grocer's Apostrophe is where you can go to see upwards of 700 pics that have been uploaded. I have only submitted one - and one I have already published here from when we were in Mexico.

I was with Morty, George and Denton and actually walked back to take the shot, just so I could send it to Marty and David.

We have since moved on to inappropriate or unnecessary quotation marks. David found this website too - which is called cleverly enough, the "blog" of "unnecessary" quotation marks.

Marty finally got on board with picture taking thing and sent David and myself this two weeks ago. His email stated he was headed from the airport to Malleys, a candy store, to pick up sweets for his wife for Valentine's Day. He snapped this:

Of course, my response was, "they're hiring????" I guess it's proof that Obama's stimulus package is working.

Naturally, I had to ask him if his wife knew he had stopped by "Malleys" on his way home.

I got zero response.