A Little Light Reading

Every journey begins with a step. Like this one:

The night was dark, and seared forever in Ian Elliot's mind. What had started as a beautiful evening with friends erupted into chaos and tragedy, as men, women and children rushed to escape Silent Mountain, the lavish estate of Chester Winfield.Three years later, life has returned to normal . . . or has it?

Strange new abilities and recurring visions slowly draw these same people back to Silent Mountain, in search of answers. But, the place that once brought them together threatens to divide them again as fear and paranoia set it in. Will life ever be the same for those changed by Silent Mountain?

I'm writing a novel on another blog. Check it out here ----> http://silentmountain.blogspot.com

Flaming Kiwifruit

The Coca-Cola Currency Exchange

Coke machines are more than just blatent commercialistic attempts to get our cold cash for a cold drink. They are also magical boxes of transformation for change.

I was going to do my laundry today. I dug through my change jar, sorting through loads of useless nickels and dimes, desperately seeking quarters for this endevour. Two loads, at $1 for washing and another for drying comes to 16 quarters total. I had nine.

So, I went and started washing with the 8 quarters I did have and plotted my next move. I would go down to the cafe in one corner of campus and take out some cash as I had none. Then I would go to the other corner of campus and turn that cash into change at Environmental Services, the location of the only coin changer on campus.

Now, granted, this all hinged upon the assumption that the coin changer was operational, which is a very big assumption. It never seems to be operational, when I need it. I've heard rumors that at times it does work, but they are as of yet unconfirmed.

The final leg of my journey would bring me back to the laundry room at the other corner of campus. So, I entered my room, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed out, locking the door behind me. That's when I saw Ian, my roommate.

Ian, you see, always has loads of change in his drawer, so, I asked him if I could borrow some and give him cash in a little bit. He kindly obliged, but was low on change for a change. I told him I'd be fine but he insisted.

So, he gave me the last of his quarters and two dimes and a nickel.

"Just put these in the Coke machine and press the coin return," he said, "It'll give you back a quarter."

"Really?" I replied.

"Yeah, but don't use the Pepsi machine. It doesn't work. Confounded new-fangled technology."

I swiftly returned Ian's change and went back to the change jar. I counted out 8 sets of dimes and nickels, for good measure, and rushed down to the laundry room.

I arrived and shoved two dimes and nickel in. I pressed the coin return and like magic a quarter came out. I proceed with the rest of my change, transfixed with childlike awe on the process. It was amazing . . .

Flaming Kiwifruit.

This Is Why I Can Never Take Snowboarding Seriously

Just because a sport is in the Olympics, doesn't mean you have to take it seriously.

Take snowboarding. It may be part of the Olympics but here's why I can never take it seriously.

1. Competitors who get points for completing moves such as the McTwisty.

2. Sound bites such as, "Yeah, the gold medal it's like heavy . . . Like, winning it . . . I mean, like, physically."

3. And finally, the gold medalist . . . The Flying Tomato!

I rest my case.

This Changes Things

Life is very unexpected. And I do mean very unexpected. In a good way.

In case anyone doesn't know I've recently entered a relationship with a beautiful, vibrant young woman (Oprahesque, I know). This was unexepected enough in itself. More unexpected is that this particular young woman, Katherine Widrick, lives in Upstate NY. I currently attend college in Florida.

And it gets crazier. You see, I've never met Katherine in person. She was friends with my cousin and we met through his message boards. Tomorrow is her birthday, and so I thought I would post and let everyone know that I'm in love with this girl.

Makes me understand this song better.

All things considered
We're both, certifiably insane
And I don't miss my mind

I don't miss the driving
And I'm always driving in my mind
And wearing out the road that gets me there

I may never find the sleep
I've lost all feeling in my hands and
Feet may touch the ground but
My mind's somewhere north of here

Happy Birthday Katherine!

Chicken Heads and Other Items

Severed chicken heads can be cute. Just trust me on that one.

I'm back at college, which means writing reports. Which means I don't like typing anymore. That's not true.

Anyway, since I've been here I've written a report, cleaned up on the "Weather" category on Jeopardy, implemented my "5-Color Diet," and done a lot of other things that I can't remember because of the cold/cold medicine.

And, just for the record, this Monday . . . VENGANCE WILL BE MINE!!!!! AND DAVID'S!!!!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! (Let's just say, it involves a certain board game known as Risk.)

Flaming Kiwifruit.

Living Up to the Name

There's a reason they call them "Exhaustive Concordances." Try lugging one around for a while. Oh, well, it gets the job done.

Flaming Kiwifruit.

You Will Be Assimilated

Sometimes, you just have to take matters into your own hands. Yes, freind there are times you must look in the mirror, and after admiring your good looks for a while, point at yourself and say, "It's up to you!"

I had one such moment. I have to do something. "About what," you say. World hunger? World Peace? Obnoxious TV personalities? No. None of the above. All are noble causes, which I would love to help with. Rather I am going to solve the problem of the dying forum.

You see, looking back on the glory days of the Djere forums, I remeber times when you would log on and there would be far too much activity for one to keep track. All of it led to mass amusement. Sort of an "I amuse you, you amuse me" deal. Now, I go on and get excited if there are 4 live threads. I revive threads. I start new ones. Everything dies.

So, I have decided what the forums need is an infusion of fresh blood. And, where will I get this blood? The blood bank! No, what I need is figuritive blood, and, sadly, there's a shortage of that at the blood bank.

No, that new blood is you! Yes, you. No, stop pointing at the person next to you. I'm talking to you.

Here's all you have to do.

1. Click Here

Wait, no! First, read the rest of the instructions.

2. Read. I can suggest some good points.
3. Sign up.

You don't even have to post, ever! There are plenty of people who have never posted. The key is you'll have the account in case you ever do want to post. Now, wouldn't you say that's worth it.

Flaming Kiwifruit.

Contractions: They're Dangerous

Words are tricky. They are dangerous little things that just try to get you in trouble. For instance, I'm writing this script the other day and I want a character to say, "Who are you?" Well, logically, this would be the perfect place for a contraction. They are = They're. We are = We're. Who are = . . . Well, you see the problem. Okay, maybe you don't. Just finish the equation on your own. Then delete it before anybody walks by and sees it. Don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, you know.

And contractions aren't the only offenders. Take the word "assistant." A perfectly innocuous, innocent-looking word, if taken on its own. Then, you try to abbreviate it, and WHAM! You hit a wall. This is why you don't abbreviate while your driving. Current reports suggest that if the current "Abbreviation Driving" trend continues, there will still be no reports of such an accident, but you can never be to careful.

No, no, a more common problem when abbreviating "assistant" is the "three-letter problem." You see, the easiest way to abbreviate a word is to grab the first three letters. Colonel = Col. December = Dec. May = May. Ralph Nader, President in Exile = Ral. Assistant = . . . Again, you get the point. Again, if you don't do what I said before. Clearly this will not work as a viable option. Unless of course your assistant has displeased you and you wish to wreak vengeance upon him or her <----- (See Borghy, I'm not a sexist jerk. I'm learning!) in a subtle, yet not so subtle way. I wouldn't suggest this.

Also, gender relative terms can be troublesome. I'm not refering to aunt/uncle, mom/pop, Sonny/Cher, fishherder/fishherdress type words. Nope, this is about his and hers or him and her or he and she, well, you get the point. The man problem is that the English language has not gender nuetral pronoun. Well, there's it, but use of it in regards to a human being tend to be somewhat offensive to the target. Trust me, I know.

So, thanks to this oversight, by the crafters of the English language, poor innocent males, completely oblivious to the complexities of gender relations in our modern world, say phrases such as, "If you have an employee who won't work, you should discipline him." When the correct phrase should be, "If you have an employee who won't work, you should pummel him mercilessly with frozen peacocks."

No, no, that not right. I in no way condone violence with or against frozen poultry. The correct phrase would be, "If you have an employee who won't work, you should discipline him or her." The poor, unwitting men, who say such phrases, are then pummel with frozen peacocks, by all of the women, and more "sensitive" men in the room. (No there is not a story in this, and if there were I would not tell you about. It's just a coincidence that I get all jumpy when I walk through the poultry department when I walk through the grocery store.)

Well, as Mark said in the most recent script I wrote:

Look, I ain't wanna hurt ya' . . . Well, maybe I did, but I ain't gonna,
now. So, just come on out and I'll be all nice.

Actually, that has nothing to do with anything, but I just loved the line. Talk about grammar infractions. Somebody, get that guy a dictionary, for crying out loud! I'm tired. I had to write this twice because my finger slipped and I delete this whole post the first time. Good night, or morning, or whatever it is when you read this.

Flaming Kiwifruit

A Song Quote

There are two great lies that i’ve heard/“The day you eat of the fruit of that tree, you will not surely die”/And that Jesus Christ was a white, middle-class republican/And if you wanna be saved you have to learn to be like Him. - Derek Webb, "A Kingdom and a King"

Okay, so I already knew that, but I hadn't heard it so eloqently put. Just some food for thought. And a good chance to quote a song line, which I already love to do.

Flaming Kiwifruit.

What a Cheesy Christmas

Sometimes, cheesy can be good.

For instance, I decided to try something different as a dessert for Christmas this year. Naturally, my family was quite concerned when I pulled out tortilla wraps, cream cheese, white chocolate, and okra. I quickly explained that the okra was an integral part of the dessert. I then chuckled to myself as they went away horrified and proceeded to use the okra to make fried okra.

The other ingredients formed the most amazing dessert I have ever personally made. You see I wrapped the tortilla shells around a mixture of cream cheese, white chocolate, sugar, and vanilla extract and thane spread butter mixed with brown sugar and cinnamon across it. After baking the wraps, I drizzled some melted white chocolate across the tops, to enhance the visual asthetics of the dish.

They were good.

Also, on Christmas morning, my dad was quite suprised to open a box with, what else, but cheese. Not just any cheese, though, some of the best cheese the world has ever known. You see, he loves cheese, and I figured this wouldn't be an ordinary gift.

So, cheese was very important to my holiday. Seems somewhat fitting.

Flaming Kiwifruit.

Be Careful Whom You Fly With

Just because you think someone you know may have liked a movie, doesn't mean you should rent the remake.

I did this a couple of days ago, with "Flight of the Pheonix." I regretted it quickly. For some reason watching a bunch of sweaty, guys in a desert swear at one another is not exactly my idea of good entertainment. Okay, so they weren't always swearing at one another. There were those breif moment of tired, cliched dialogue, and, my personal favorite, the random 'bonding moments' where the character suddenly forgot that they hated one another and became one big happy family.

One particular moment involved the men all blaring some rock music (good thing that guy thought to bring his I-Pod on the flight) and dancing around wildly. Never mind that they had made a big deal about not walking, because it would burn up too much energy and waste thier water supplies. Also, they seemed to have time to put together a nice little kitchen, complete with menus. No wonder they were having trouble finishing the plane on time.

And then there was the ridiculous scene where the nerdy guy who was the only one who could build the plane stormed off, because he got mad. He then made everyone say, "Please." before he would come back out. As if this wasn't bad enough, when the captain came in it went something like this.

Nerd: Who's the boss of everyone?
Pilot: You are.
Nerd: Okay.
Pilot: Please come out and finish the plane.

COME ON! What is this, middle school? But that aside it was just an all-around poorly written movie.

Finding Neverland, on the other hand, was a well-written, well-acted, piece, that completely put me to sleep. I've decided give the choice between a well-made boring film and a poorly made acton peice, I'll take boring.

Flaming Kiwifruit.

All Roads Lead to Where?

You can't trust roads, anymore.

Yep, it's not like in the old days, when roads progressed in logical patterns. You know you'd see a road and say, "Yeah, that'll take me where I need to go." Then, it did. Well, those days are over.

See, I was trying to get to this sweet shopping plaza (by which I mean CITY) so I turned down this road. It took me over the crest of a hill where I could look heroically down on the center, which spread out before me triumphantly. I quickly realized that rather than bringing me to the valient City of Commercialism, this was bringing me around the back of the Target.

No problem, I thought. What goes around the back of Target surely loops around the front.

WRONG!

No, this road lead to a construction site which led to another road, which led to another road, which led to another road, which led to the City of Commercialism. So, why, you might ask, did I not turn around rather than brave the exhausting maze of tangled non-sensical roads? It's simple: I'm male.

You see what you have to understand about men, is we are never wrong. Even when we are wrong we have to find a way to prove we're not wrong. For example:

A man, whom we will not name, was driving around a lake. Said man, took a wrong turn, going the way which would be longer. A female freind of said man pointed out the mistake. So, I . . . I mean, this man, simply replied that he liked this way better.

You see, that man wasn't wrong. He just liked taking the longer way. Making him an idiot, but a correct idiot.

The moral of the story is it's better to be a correct idiot, than and incorrect genius.

Gee, that's not such a great moral. I need to work on that.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Christmas Will Never Be the Same

Somethings don't work at the last moment.

For instance: I went back to my parent's church today. We just got back from Florida and haven't been around much in the last 3 or4 months. So, imagine my surprise when I find out that my sister and I are supposed to be Mary and Joseph in thier Christmas thing tonight. Aside from the general weirdness of the whole situation and the fact that as hard as we tried we could not get out of it, this wasn't a normal Christmas thing.

You see the whole program involved people getting up and singing with the Christmas story being read inbetween. In fact, Rachel and I were to do the opening song, thus requirking us to get in costume after it. Well, naturally you might think, "Why do you even need Mary and Joseph in this sort of thing?" We're still wondering that.

So, after the song, we hurried away to wrap sheets around ourselves in a biblical type manner. Granted I had no clue how to do this. So I stood around the back room off to the side of the sanctuary, where I found an answering machine. Being the curious, but not so sensible person I am I hit the play button, while Rachel was getting her outfit ready.

It was loud . . . I had no way to turn it off . . .

So, I did what any sensible person would. I flipped it upside down so the speaker would be muffled by the floor. What followed was a freindly electronic voice repeating, "Message deleted" over and over again. At this point Rachel pointed out that I was probably deleting all the messages left for the church. So I unplugged the thing. As far as I know it is still unplugged.

Then our cue came. Unfortunately Rachel had mixed-up the rope for our waists and I am considerably bigger than her. So, I couldn't breathe. In addition I almost tripped coming out, while Rachel tried desperately to hold back her amusement with the whole situation. After this we proceeded to do exactly what we were instructed to do.

We sat.

That was it. I dutifully watched the rest of the program while on the verge of passing out from the restrictive belt and trying unsuccessfully to cover my khakis with the sheet. On the plus side, the program actually only lasted an hour and there was food afterwards.

Also, Marion Hodges brought a hammered dulcimer which sounded stupendous. I even got to play a little afterwards, picking out the melody to "Dust in the Wind" on it. It was an interesting night.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Why I Still Insist That I'm From New York

Things really can get worse in Alabama.

I just got back and so, naturally after eight hours of driving, what does a guy do? Go Christmas shopping!

Yes, it's strange, but Rachel really wanted to get started and I needed to get something for my aunt and grandmother who are heading out tomorrow.

The point is I saw the lowest of cheesy commercialized Alabama weirdness while shopping.

It was "Buck" the singing trophy deer head. Yes it's true, he sings 6 of your country favorites. I just wish I could remember them. I know "Freinds in Low Places" was one of the them. It also includes a wireless microphone so you can sing along. Loads of fun. Especially after you've finished of the last of the beer.

On the plus side, it was fun listening to the David Crowder Band's rendition of "Feliz Navidad" on the way back.

Also, I have just been informed that placing Marshmellow Treats in the reach of hungry dogs is a bad idea.

Oh, and apparently "Chocolate Moose Chocolate Milk" and Necco brand candy are essentially reprocessed toxic waste. I sure hope I can't be sued for this . . .

Flaming Kiwifruit.

Happy Thanksgiving . . . Again!

There is something better than a big Thanksgiving dinner . . . Two big Thanksgiving dinners!!

See, I went to my sister and brother-in-laws for Thanksgiving. It was great, we did nothing but eat and play ping-pong all day. So, when we got home Friday, my dad decides he wants to have leftover turkey. So we had another Thanksgiving, and I got to cook this time. It was great. My garlic mashed potatoes went over well (all I did was spice and mix them, they were boiled when I got there), and my first attempt at homemade fried okra was amazing. I am now stuffed. It's been a good Thanksgiving break.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Yes, I Went Shopping

A. Malls are EVIL. They are money eating monsters that only want to gnaw on your wallet until your cash all falls out the bottom and lands in thier hands.

B. Malls are GREAT. They have everything I need, which I could not even find looking all over Lakeland.

See, I went to the mall to get another box of contact, as my prescription was there. So, my Mom asks me to take her glasses with me to get the lenses replaced. This will take approximately an hour.

And how do you kill an hour in the mall?

I started by wandering over to Radio Shack. It was simple enough. I found a cheap 1/4" to 1/8" phone plug adapter. (This has nothing to do with actual phones, it's an audio thing.)

Then I wandered. While I was wandering, I thought to myself, "Gee, I bet I could find a charger for my cell phone here." So I scoured the map until I found a cell phone accessory kiosk and made my way there. I struck gold! Coincidently so did the guy running the kiosk.

Then I wandered. I got myself a drink and plopped down on a bench to wait it out. Then I was struck by the fact that I hadn't actually ever seen a fountain in our mall. It seemed strange to me that our mall wouldn't have a fountain, so I went off looking for one.

Instead, I found a shoe store. Now, being male I have a distinct distaste for shoe stores and under ordinary circumstance wouldn't ever go in one. However, these were not ordinary circumstances. You see I recently lost my favorite pair of sandals, my favorite pair of sandals being which ever sandals I am in posession of at the time. So I entered the store, and left with sandals.

At this point the sheer number of purchases I was making was quite ridiculous, however, it was everything I'd been unsuccessfully looking for the past month. So I returned to the eye place, retrieved the glasses, and left.

So that's why I hate malls. That's also why I love them. At least today. The rest of the time I just hate them. No offense to any malls that might be reading this. It's nothing personal. I just don't like you . . .

Flaming Kiwifruit

I Have Fans

For starters, people actually read this. Thanks so much to Djere and Kate for reaffirming my faith in the human spirit and the fact that anyone can get readership on the internet.

Now to my fans. I have a fan base . . . I suppose. You know those fanatical followers who dress like you and go out in public parading around as you. No, not the stalker ones, the good ones. Okay, so maybe I don't actually have fans, but I did convince my friend and ex-roommate, Matt, to go to our schools masquarade as me. I didn't actually get to see him, but he called me to get a shirt (one of the plaid ones I where around campus everywhere). Sure enough I get back here and my brown and greenish-bluish-greyish shirt, the epitome of Phil style, is gone. I just hope he gets pictures.

POST-SCRIPT (2-29-08): I actually heard later that he had people coming up to him and asking him, "Are you supposed to be Phil?" Score!

I HATE MY EMAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

E-mail is a terrible, terrible thing.

Okay, so maybe I'm just annoyed that I've been busy with e-mail so much tonight. I had to email crew for my production, cast for it, radio people, audio people, people I don't even know! And people emailed me. It's driving me crazy!!!!!!!!!!!

Now I feel better. I am so glad no one reads this anymore.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Lucky Me

Fortune favors the lucky.

It's true. I found this out while searching for S&S Pest Control today. After getting bizarre directions from BR, our office manager, which lead me to an abandoned house, I consulted my dad, the main salesman at our company. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey, where's S & S Pest Control?
David: Huh? Oh, I think is down on Enterprise Road or something.
Me: Really? Bobby Ray's crazy. He sent me to an abandoned house in Opelika

My dad, David, got a good laugh out of this, although couldn't believe it, really. This was yesterday.

Today, I set out again. I drove down to Enterprise Drive. Nothing. Then I went down Centerhill Road, a branch of Enterprise. Nothing. I was about to turn around and give up when I noticed that a construction site on the road had signs up informing everyone that thier site was protected by S & S. It also included a phone number to dial. So, I called and got directions.

It turns out it was just a ways further down the original road I found the abandoned house on. What's worse? It was less than a mile down the road from my house. I pass it on a regular basis, which explains why I could visualize the sign in my head the whole time. Go figure.

Flaming Kiwifruit.

AR-336: A Copier Odyssey, Pt 6

Will it ever end? We'll see. In the meantime . . . THUD! There it was, a floor mat! It barreled under the car and came flying out the other side . . . Ooooh . . . how anticlimactic! I bet you were thinking it was something more dangerous than a floor mat! So . . . No sooner had the poor mat flown off down the interstate, than we entered the first monsoon of the trip.

The water pelted the car, the windshield wipers were trying their darndest to clear the windshield!It was a monsoon, no more, no less. And on the Silver backed monkey plume of death scale of monsoons, it was a 7 out of ten. Not too bad, but certainly not great. We slowed our pace, looking out for other vehicles which may be before us. It was long, torturous. Eventually, we saw clear skies ahead.

But . . .(Dramatic Music to hold you in suspense). . . . . . .It didn't last.

We spent two or three minutes under clear skies before we were hit by our second monsoon. This reached a 9 on the scale. We set the fourway flashers on and drove, or rather, crept down the road. It was even longer and more torurous. Most pulled off to wait out the storm. WE braved it! The little windshield wipers tried to help, but they could hardly put a dent in terrential downpours. So, we waited . . .

Soon we found clear skies once again. Daylight broke just as we reached Gainsville, our next parental checkpoint.

So I made the call:
Mom: Hi!
Me: Hey, we're in Gainsville.
Mom: Good. How's the triaffic?
Me: Not too bad!
Mom: Great! Well, Talk to you later. Drive carefully!
Me: We will. Bye.

So blissfully unaware. Ah, well. Ignorance is bliss. In case your wondering, I live in a state full of happy people. . . .

Hmm . . . such an anticlimactic place to stop, but my fiancee called, and, sadly for you, that takes precedent . . . at least you doin't have to wait in suspense untill we decide to post again.

The Chimp