Hats Off to the Dust Speck

Thing #140: The Cat in the Hat lives on a speck of dust.

So, Katherine and I have been taking care of a young child this week, and as a consequence have been revisiting some of our cherished childhood films. It really explains alot. In the course of this, we'll call it 'research,' I've discovered the above fact. The following paragraphs will lay out my case, in detail.

We'll start with The Grinch. This is of course the beloved Dr. Suess character who, in 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas,' attempted to stop the Whos in aptly-named Whoville from having Christmas by commiting a number of felonies, including theft, breaking and entering, and the unthinkable treenapping. Upon returning to Whoville with an enlarged heart (which he is never treated for), The Grinch returns the gifts, trees, and various other Christmas items (with the exception of one "Very Gaither Christmas" CD, fortunately lost off the top of the mountain.) He is subsequently given a place of great honor carving the roast beast.

Fast forward to the near future when Whoville has grown from a small villiage to a thriving metropolis complete with skyscrapers, a clock tower, and several Starbucks. This is the setting for the follow-up film, 'Horton Hears a Who.' It is in this film that it is established that Whoville is actually located on a speck of dust. Thus, in order to interact with the Whos, the Grinch must also reside on said speck of dust. To complete this theory I will turn to the final film of note, 'The Grinch Grinches the Cat in the Hat,' in which the Grinch, presumably before his heart enlargement, does or attempts to do, a variety of unkind things to the aforemention Cat in the Hat. Thus, the Cat in the Hat must live on the same speck of dust as the Grinch and the Whos. Which begs the question, "Why did we never see any meaningful interaction between the Cat and the Whos?" I smell a conspiracy.

Kiwifruit

P.S. My apologies to anyone who actually spent time reading this.

Happy Birthday Kiwi!

Thing# 109: My brother is a quarter of a century old!

I did not know this yesterday because it was not true yesterday. In honor of this special day, I have decided to collaborate with his parents and former roommate to compile a list of 25 things you may not know about Phil:

1. Phil is single handedly responsible for the death of countless pots, pans, and small appliances, including all those lost in the great 'Pecan Pie Massacre' and, I hear, a $10 mixer.

2. Phil can occupy every inch of space in front of a sink and counter while simultaneously being slower than humanly possible at getting ready.

3. Phil is a lover of nature. He once backed his car into a tree, got out, checked the tree with complete lack of concern for his car's well being, and drove to work.

4. Phil runs red lights and stops at green lights. Several long stories involved, but he has done both.

5. He can climb a telephone pole with his toenails. This is how he earned the nickname 'Bellsouth'. If you've seen his toenails, you understand.

6. His favorite colors are green and khaki.

7. He has a passion for cooking, especially grilling meat.

8. Little dogs love him and feel a compulsion to follow him for as long as possible after he walks by.

9. He once ran into a parked car.

10. He once set our front lawn on fire burning ant hills with gasoline. In his defense, he had help with this one.

11. He will wear a pair of sandals until they fall apart . . . then he will duct tape and super glue the pieces together and wear them until his wife finds out and throws them away.

12. He will take anything if it is free and buy anything if it says 'new' on the package.

13. He is an accomplished singer and songwriter, as well as guitar player.

14. He's unbeatable in the game Encore.

15. Everyone knows him. Growing up I was always "Phil's sister" and everywhere we went, somehow, at least a handful of people knew Phil.

16. He loves to take things apart and find out how they work, and unlike his dad, he can usually put them back together so they still work.

17. He's never had much fashion sense: The star shirt, the sailboat shirt, the sweat pants with the hole from his knee to his ankle . . .

18. He is blindingly white, but then, that is sort of a family trait.

19. When he was four years old he lined up all the kids in the playground and made them sit down and listen while he preached to them.

20. He typically has bad luck with birthdays, hopefully this year was different!

21. He's a pool hustler.

22. There is no counting the number of times he has locked his keys in his car . . . while it was running.

23. His snore is said to be something like a gas generator, a guerilla battle cry, and a dying moose . . . run through an amplifier.

24. He has his mother's sense of direction. He once got lost in the bath tub, and spent hours wheeling a copier around a building looking for the exit.

25. Everyone loves Phil. The first time I met my future in-laws, we brought Phil. When we left my roommate said, "I think they liked you . . . but they LOVED Phil!" I guess he's just a loveable guy!

Happy Birthday Phil! We love you!

Phil's Sister

The Universe, Peanuts, and the End of the World

Thing #107: The universe was brought to us in part by Planter's peanuts.

Strange but true. Apparently God had a little help from the peanut people, or so thinks the history channel. I was sitting on the couch watching a show about planets, black holes, and the likes, aptly named "The Universe" when all of the sudden as the commercials began I was notified of this fact. I wonder which part they were responsible for?

Either way, I must go now and quickly prepare for certain doom. As the show neared in end, they announced, and I quote, "Cosmic Apocalypse, coming up next."

As a side note, I also now know my blog has a spell check, which dad pointed out after trying to help me figure out to spell apocalypse. So I now I know it's spelled correctly.

The Chimp

A Papal Mess

Thing #106: There are endless possibilities for misusing the word "papal."

I started thinking about this recently when the Pope visited the United States. During the intense (okay, so intense and papal visit don't quite go together) news coverage the term Papal mass kept coming up. Of course, as everyone knows, this comes from the terms, mass, meaning a Catholic service, and papal, a term which encompasses all thing pope. It a Catholic service done by the Pope.

This however was not my first thought. My first thought was that it sounds like something the doctor would find during a routine exam. "Well, once we remove the papal mass from your side you should be fine." Unfortunately it didn't stop there. Here's the short list.

Papal Mass (alt.) - A unit of measurement based on the physical density of the Pope (or papal density).
Papal Mess - What happens when the Pope forgets to put the top on the blender before starting it.
Papal Miss - What you get when the Catholic Church finally allows the Pope to get married.
Papal Moss - What happens when the Pope lies still in the forest too long and lichen begins to grow on him.
Papal Mist - The Pope's own brand of lemon-lime soda.
Papal Mast - Part of the Pope's boat.

This is what happens when I spend too long in a car by myself. So remember kids, don't ever get a job that requires you to drive a lot and if you are lost in the forest moss always grows on the north side of the Pope.

Kiwifruit

Will Someone Please Remove This Month From the Building

Thing #94: If March goes out like a lion, February has to be dragged away by security, kicking and screaming.

Every month has its theme, its motif, its, dare I say, personality. You know what I mean. July is the patriot, waving flags and testing us with its heat. May is the NHL playoff timme and someone's birthday is (just in case anyone forgot). And February is the month that, at least up here, clobbers us over the head with snow and then drops to below 0 temperatures to freeze us under an immovable floor of ice. Not a very friendly month. Then there's March.

March is normally the month that smiles warmly on us, thawing the snow and ice, so April showers can bring May flowers (and playoffs). March is benevolent, kind and friendly. Maybe that explains what has happened. See, when it came time March showed up, smiling and preparing its warmth, then BAM!!!! February clobbered March over the head declaring it would never give up, and cackling maniacally.

As you may know, we up here in the North Country had a rather sizable winter storm this past weekend. This explains why I spent an hour and a half shoveling to get the car loose so we could get to church Sunday. Then, another 30-45 minutes when we got home so I could get the car back in. I didn't mind. It was March. It would melt soon. Then I got up this morning. It was -10. No problem, it'll pass. Then I saw the weather today. Next weekend low 20's and 30's. I'm so glad we're going to Alabama.

Kiwifruit

Whilst Playing Racquetball . . .

Thing #93: I have good hand-eye coordination.

At least that's what Rob said . . . while beating me 15-3 at racquetball. It was a good time though. In between games he taught me some tips regarding where to stand, correct postures, and how not to slam into walls at high velocity. Also, I learned that concrete walls are hard. Really hard. So is the floor. After diving for the ball at one point, Rob congratulated me on getting the hit. I responded that I was too late and he agreed, but was apparently impressed with my willingness to sacrifice my body for the point. My body was not so impressed, as it has reminded me several times since.

After Rob left, I went to the exercise bike to wait for Katherine, who was grocery shopping. There's nothing like reading about the hotly contested Democratic race, whilst pedaling at an average speed of 17 MPH. There's a good reason there's nothing like this. Also, I like using the word, "whilst."

Afterwards, Katherine picked me up, and asked what we had talked about. The rest of the conversation went something like this.

Katherine: So what did you guys talk about.
Me: Racquetball. You know, proper stances, ect.
Katherine: Oh. You didn't talk about life and stuff?
Me (giving it thought): No, just racquetball.
Katherine: But, what about when you were volleying.
Me: We just volleyed. That's all.

Truth is, it's hard to discuss life and love and what-not in an echo chamber. Not that I'm against trying. It's just not what guys do I guess. Not like a hard and fast rule, just not really something we would think of. That's all for now. I'm lucky I haven't fallen asleep on the keyboard.

Kiwifruit.

Happy Leap Day!

Thing #90: No one really cares about Leap Day.

So, today is February 29th. This only comes once, like, every four years. Amazing. So, why are there no major celebrations, no festivals, no choirs singing. Well, I guess some choirs may have sung, but not in honor of the day.

Well, I care. So, in honor of 'Leap Day,' I'm have work tirelessly fabricating outlandish facts about the day. I would have used real facts, but I only know one (the odds of being born on said day are 1 in 14,000 or 1,400 I can't remember which), and I'd rather not go through the work of actually looking them up. Hey, if it works for the Times . . .

Here they are:

In 1983 the Senate passed a bill attempting to move the Presidential Inauguration to February 29. The House quickly squashed the bill pointing out that, as inauguration doesn't fall on a leap year, future presidents would have to wait over three years to be inaugurated, thus crippling the system.

In ancient Greece, being born on February 29th was considered a great blessing. Children born on this day were exempted from military service and given first choice in goats and Monopoly pieces.

In 1843, France officially declared that all people born on the 29th would be allowed to age every year regardless of whether or not thier birth date fell in it. French women everywhere protested.

There you have it. I'm going to go have a festival or something now.

Kiwifruit

Like An Aqueduct, Eh?

Thing #88 (YEAH LINDROS!!!!!): Before removing the LED from an FS-C5016 (This is a color printer) you must "sufficiently do let escape the static electricity which is electrified in the human body concerning the metal part and the like of the aqueduct faucet, after that do work.*" (sic . . . DUH!)

See, now it's funny running across something like that. It is not however funny running across something like that when you're trying desperately to get a job done without causing any problems. Then it's just terrifying. I think it means you have to ground yourself first. You gotta love poor translations.

Kiwifruit

*- Kyocera KM-5016 Service Manual (Rev. 1.4)


Just giving credit where credit is due.

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