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.

Now, All I Need Is Some Milk

Thing #92: The best way to get instant name recognition in a group, is to bring cookies.

Katherine and I went a photo shoot today . . . As models. I have to admit it was a strange thing to get used to, responding when people said things like, "Models over there," or "You're one of the models, right?" A friend of our, Mabyn, who does photography in Syracuse was involved in a shoot with a bunch of photographers and we volunteered to help. In exchange we got two free meals and, eventually, a CD of pictures from the shoot.

Katherine thought it would be nice to bring cookies, which I volunteered to make. Thus, while we were all finishing a lunch of bowling alley pizza, it was announced that Phil had brought cookies. The rest of the day every so often someone would come up to me and say, "Hey, your Phil, right?" I would, for the most part, respond in the affirmative, which would be followed with some comment about the "good cookies." And they were good cookies. I'm so glad Katherine talked me out of making the oatmeal raisin.

At any rate, it was a good day, long, but good. Can't wait to see the pictures.

Kiwifruit

Directions, Por Favor

Thing #91: You can effectively Google directions from Barcelona, Spain to Oslo, Norway.

You cannot however get to Beijing, China. Darned Communist era information bans. It all started simply enough. I looked at some streets, got directions to and from pertinent places. Then, I just got curious. Also, I ate dinner on a cardboard box tonight. It was good.

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

File Under Procrastination

Thing #89: I can give my blog labels.

I guess I'm a bit of an organizational freak. I just love the though of all 89 and counting blog posts being neatly sorted by subject, ect. I promised myself I'd be off by 7:20. I haven't made it. Now, if only I could organize my real files this well.

Kiwifruit

P.S. Katherine, I am also getting the list of things you left me done. (Insert innocent smile here.)

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.

Mr. Freeman, I Presume?

Thing #87: The barber cannot make me look like Morgan Freeman.

Sad, but true. I learned this after Katherine noticed a man who looked suspiciously like the actor walking out of Vinny's Clean Cuts. I commented that Vinny must be one good barber, and that's when Katherine explained that no matter how good a barber might be, there are certain obstacles which cannot be overcome.

It also made me think, "What if it had been Morgan Freeman?" Granted I have no idea what he would be doing in Northern New York, but I would've been cool. Or not. I mean, in theory I think it would be cool to meet someone famous, and I do enjoy Freeman's work, but, seriously, what would be the point? I would probably just act the same as if I met anyone else I don't know. I'd say hello and introduce myself, stand there awkwardly, and then slip away and go find someone I actually know. And, of course, ask him who his barber is.

Kiwifruit

Just Aim For the Wall

Thing #86: Racquetball is a great sport.

I have to admit, I've never known much about racquetball. Most I knew that it was play with a ball, a racket, and rich people. Then my wife discovered they have racquetball courts at our local YMCA, where we're members. Turns out, she has some history with the sport, so we tried it. I love it.

There are several reasons I love this sport. For starters, hitting the wall is a GOOD thing. If you hit the wall in any other sport it's a bad thing. Think basketball, baseball, stock car racing, bowling, darts . . . the list goes on. Now, hitting a tiny goal, or a series of pins, these are problematic for me. I can sure as heck hit a wall . . . most of the time anyway.

In addition to the great size of the target, you get a reward when you hit it. THWACK!!!!!! Yes, the sound of the ball smacking the wall is my great reward. Just for fun, I like to see how many walls/ceilings/floors I can hit it off . . . or I'm just too lazy to go after the ball.

Finally, practically the entire room is an echo chamber. This certainly made the instruction phase more interesting. By the time Katherine was on the fifth word, I could still here the first four. This is my excuse for having no idea how the game is played, other than hitting the wall with the ball. Maybe I'll look into that later. For now, I'll just aim for a wall . . . any wall.

Who's Bright Idea Was That?

The green lettering on this blog is too bright. I need to change that. I have no earthly idea, why I thought anyone would or could read that. This blog is dead . . . well . . . mostly dead at least. Fortunately I know CPR. Unfortunately, I don't really have time for that now.

I'm going to sleep. Maybe I'll post again. Maybe not. Maybe the world will implode tonight. This last possibility is extremely remote. Did I mention I'm going to sleep.

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

AR-336: A Copier Odyssey, Pt. . . 5 . . . I think

Wow, this has really spun out of control. Kind of like that copier. So, where was I?

Ah, yes, the siren. So I checked my rear view mirror and lo and behold, behind me was a fire truck. Being a good citizen, I pulled to the side of the road to let the truck pass. So did everyone else. And it passed.

Now, one would assume that once passed by a fire truck, there would be nothing more to worry about. You wouldn't expect to see the truck again until you reached a fire/accident/cat in tree. However, as soon as I reached 65 I began to notice I was gaining on the truck. So was everyone else. Now, I wasn't quite sure what rules applied to passing a fire truck with it's sirens on, considering one would assume that the truck would be going at least the speed limit. So, I stayed back. So did everyone else.

For lack of anything better to do, we began speculating on why the truck was going so slow and who would pass it first. It seem the beat up station wagon with the old scruffy looking guy would do it, to me, but Rachel saw it differently. She was hedging her bets on the nerdy looking guy in the SUV. I objected.

Rachel: I think it'll be the SUV.
Me: No, no, it's being driven by a nerdy looking middle aged guy.
Rachel: Dad.
Me: Good point.

My father is a nerdy looking middle aged guy, who drives fast. Understand, I don't say this in mockery (since he's one of the few people who reads this), but rather with the terrifying realization that I will one day be a nerdy looking middle-aged guy. I'm even starting to get the hairline.

Soon after this discussion, I saw a little sports car coming up behind me.

Me: I bet it'll be that hot rod behind me.
Rachel: You mean the ambulance.

This is when I noticed an ambulance had come up behind me with its lights on. It was still a ways off, but I quickly pulled over, being passed by several other vehicles while I waited. And I continued.

Not long after this we saw the ambulance racing through the other side of the highway. We continued until we came to the aforementioned fire truck, trying desperately to turn around in the emergency turnaround thing on the interstate. It looked confused as if it had missed its turn.

And I was glad that I hadn't been in an accident in this area. Somewhere between the apathy and confusion of the emergency response vehicle, it would have been bad. But all was well for approximately 2.4 seconds. That's when we heard it.

THUMP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TO BE CONTINUED

Man, I don't even think the trip took this long . . .

(Inspiration)

Inspiration can come from the most unlikely places. Two recent examples:

1. I've been working at a copier place, not the most exciting job on the planet, right? Then why did I get so inspired by it that I'm currently writing a sci-fi series pilot set at a copier place. Who knows?

2. More interesting is what I just did. I was playing guitar, except my hand was all oily and so the pick kept slipping out of it. I was annoyed with it, so finally I decided to have some fun with it and write a stupid song about it. It went something like this:

What have I got
But greasy hands and a pick prone to wander
And fling itself out of my hand and onto the floor
Which just happens to be the same color
As my pick

I played this along with various verse type things I've now forgotten. I played it so passionately that I actually began to enjoy it. I like the song. So, I turned it into this:

What have I got
But filthy hands and a heart prone to wander
And fling itself out of your hands and onto the floor
What have I got
But the promise of grace, forgiveness to hold
Mercy to stand, and a love that is stronger than me
A love that is stronger than me

I never would have expected that.

Flaming Kiwifruit

AR-336: A Copier Odyssey, Pt. 4

It's a bad idea to leave people stranded in the middle of a story.

It's not my fault, really. It's not anybody's fault. You see, we've been going back and forth on the stories, my sis and I, but she was procrastinating on it and now, she's gone away to Huntsville. I may have to take her next installment. On the other hand she should only be gone a week. However, I feel I must not leave you hanging for to long lest you let go and fall to your doom, so, here it is:

So, there we were a raging copier of doom flying at us with eyes full of hatred for years of forced labor. What were we to do?

Well, it was quite obvious, we would take a coffee break . . . Just kidding, I'd already had enough coffee and Rachel doesn't even like the stuff. No, actually as I focused on making sure the van stopped before we were in the path of the truck, Rachel valiently stretched out here hand to stop the 300 or so pound copier. This was obviously a bad idea, but it didn't matter.

You see, this was when the sorter we were carrying valiantly dove straight into the path of the copier, stopping it cold. Okay so it didn't really dive, more like, just lay there. The force of the sorter and the fact that the van was at a complete stop was enough to end the copiers reign of terror.

Being that I was on an interstate on-ramp at the time of the incident, and being that I was to panicked to actually think, I did not check on the copier at this time, rather I got on the interstate. I stopped at the next exit and there found nothing. Yes, I am serious this was the most pointless exit in all of America. There was nary a gas station, hotel, restaurant, or even a prison, like the lovely exit we got off to use the restroom at in Orlando. (Yes, I forgot to tell that part. No, we didn't stop at the prison. I hate prisons, they give me the creeps.) A ways down the road we finally found a nice fledgling commercial/residential development (I couldn't tell which) to pull over in.

I stepped out of the car, like the way cool cowboy unmounting his trusty steed, except not as cool, and went to the back. It was sickening, the carnage. A tiny piece of plastic even broke off one of the paper trays. Horrendous. So, we worked to return the copier to it's rightful position and thanked the sorter for its valient efforts. The sorter was speechless. This is probably because sorters don't talk, but you never know.

I remounted my trusty steed, only to remember that my 'trusty steed' was a dorky minivan. Oh well. Then I remember something else . . . the bottom paper tray. So, rather than get 0ut of the van and go back around, I crawled through the perilous bowels of the dorkmobile to replace the tray and hopefully curb anymore 'incidents.'

And we returned to the road.

Not long had I been on the road when I saw flashing lights behind me. Egad! It's another cliff hanger . . . HAHAHAHAHAHA. That's just sick.

Flaming Kiwifruit

AR-336: A Copier Odyssey, Pt. 3.141592654

Okay, I know what you're thinking, "I wonder what's for lunch?" . . . No, wait, that's what I'm thinking. You're more likely thinking, "What kind of idiot drives around with and unstrapped copier in the back of his van?" I thought long and hard before reaching my decision.

Copiers, I reasoned, are large and heavy. Things that are large and heavy do not move (e.g. my house, the Eiffel Tower, the Leaning Tower of Piza, the moon, my dogs, ect.) I suppose I should have considered that noone, as far as I know, has ever tried to move the Eiffel Tower in a minivan. I could be wrong about this.

So armed with one maniacal copier of DOOM, we haeded out on the long journey home. It was quiet for a while . . . too quiet. I could just hear the copiers gears turning in it's head, plotting evil. Okay, I really couldn't hear them or I would've know what was coming . . . In a violent display of violent type motion, the copier, quite literally, stuck it's tongue out at me (by tongue, I mean, paper tray.) This could only mean one thing. The paper tray had come out.

We quickly decided that this could not continue, so we decided that at the next stop, we would remove the tray from the copier. So, we stoped for lunch, where I got a tiny piece of bone stuck in my teeth. I got it out.

After leaving the 'reputable establishment,' by which I mean, nasty gas station with a fast food joint, I proceed to carry out our plan. I reached into the heart of the machine, with all the valour I could muster while still bloated from lunch, and ripped out the tray . . . okay, more like gently removed the tray. Then, for good measure, I took out the bottom paper tray as well. I laughed at the copier. The copier laughed louder, it would have it's revenge!!!!!!

And it did, before we had even gotten back on the interstate. I began to enter the onramp that would take me to the interstate, when I suddenly noticed a large tractor trailer with the right of way. So, like any sensible person, I braked. The copier saw it's opportunity. In a sudden violent blur it leaped forward, throwing its bulking mass at us with such hate and anger that it seemed no one would survive.

To Be Continued . . .

Flaming Kiwifruit

P.S. We survived.
P.S.S. I just ruined the suspence for you
P.S.S.S. I just wanted to see three 'S's at the end of the 'P'

AR-336: A Copier Odyssey Part 2

And so, there I was. Standing among strangers in the distant land of 'Not Home Base' while Kiwi ran around trying desperately to figure out what was going on. Finally, he learned of his plans and he plopped himself down in the office chair and proceeded to explain to me, in detail, the various functions of each memo/note book, folder, piece or scrap of paper of every kind that was roaming that table they call a 'desk' . . .

Shane, the aforementioned delivery guy, finally returned from his 'delivery just down the road', carrying a newly purchased beverage, talking on a cell phone, and walking immensely too slow as if no one in the world was waiting on him to return with that hideous golden-brown van. And so, we departed . . . finally.

First Phone Call of the trip:

Time: App. 9:00 a.m. Central Standard Time

Mom: Where are you guys?
Me: Opelika.
Mom: Still!
Me: Yes . . . (grumble . . . grumble . . .)
Mom: Ok . . .

Most of the preceding trip to Orlando from this point on was a sleep deprived, caffiene-induced haze. Yes, sadly it is true, we were so sleep deprived and caffiene filled that if anything amusing did happen, we could scarcely remember it . . . or, really, not remember it at all. So we shall jump ahead . . . We arrived in Orlando. I proceed to go out with my fiancee, who's house we were staying at, for a nice dinner. Kiwi . . . well . . . he drove to Lakeland and had a nice dinner with his old roommate. Aside from this, nothing of note happened, except that Kiwi, loved by all little dogs, had a small dog strangely find him as he walked from the parking lot back to my fiancee's house. The dog followed him all the way to the door and would have followed him inside if allowed, but there was already a little dog in there who quickly came to see Phil, his good buddy. All little dogs love Phil. We don't know why, they just do. It's odd. But, back to our quest.

We had to go the next morning and help a fellow employee of Phil's, Scott, load two copiers before we could retrieve our own little AR-336. Naturally, we had only an adress, and we didn't know when we were to meet Scott. Phil tried many times to call Scott, but they were all failed attempts. Having recently heard how Scott gets his phone to work when it's broken, I think I might know why. But, that's another story entirely.

Any ways, we got up early and headed out. Finally, the call came. Scott was 45 minutes away. Despite what you're thinking, this didn't mean we had to sit in a parking lot and wait for 45 minutes; rather, we took what Phil might describe as a 'scenic tour' of Orlando. It didn't seem very scenic to me as we went up and down the same street the entire 45 minutes. We FINALLY found the place and pulled in directly BEHIND Scott. . .

They retrieved the copiers, I sat this one out, so if anything amusing happened, Phil will have to fill you in (no pun intended, belive me!).

So, jumping ahead to our own little copier. We arrived at the place where it supposedly was. What we found was a seemingly abandoned building with no signs of a business being, having been, or planning to be there. Of course, Phil also was never able to get a phone number for this place before we left, so he called back to the office ('Not Home Base') and retrieved a number which he used to call the business. It turns out, they had moved on Saturday, this being Thursday. So, we went to their new location. It seemed simple enough . . .

Secretary: It's all set. Just pull around back and you can pick it up.
Phil: Thanks.

So, we pulled around back where we found a myriad of large trucks amidst which our little golden-brown van was feeling very out of place. The back wall was lined with large openings through which trucks could recieve their respective copiers, these openings being approximately 5 or 6 feet off the ground and there being no ramp in sight. So we went inside and found the man who was to help us, in his office eating lunch. He gladly came out to help us and brought us to the copier, a shiny Sharp AR-336. It looked so deceptively innocent in the bright light of the early afternoon . . .

A conversation ensued which went something like this:

Man: Where's you're truck.
Phil: We don't have one.
Man: Oh?
Phil: We have a van.
Man: Oh. I guess you'll have to go back around front.

So I drove the van back out front, and shortly after, Phil and the man arrived with another guy and a ramp. Only, the copier was too big for the van, so they couldn't roll it up the ramp. They had to take it off it's stand and hoist the monster into the back of the van, after which another conversation ensued:

Man: How are you gonna strap it in?
Phil: I'm not.
Man: Oh.
Phil: It should be fine.

I think we can all see where this is going.

So, we set out on the long journey home . . .

TO BE CONTINUED

The Chimp

MacGyver Could've

Ducttape can fix sandal. Ducttape and powerful industrial chemical are not 'friends' by any definition of the word. Except maybe mortal enemies, which I'm pretty sure is not a definition of friends. If it is, my friends and I need to have a talk, but I doubt it is.

Anyway, my old trusty sandals finally bit the dust the other night. So, what was I to do? Wear shoes! No, that wouldn't work at all. That'd be like asking penguin to dance a jig (note to self: try this sometime). So, I ducttaped them together. That is once I realized that neither scotch nor masking tape would work (scotch tape that is, not the alcoholic beverage).

It worked fine until I went to work. I was again cleaning covers with the chemical I like to complain about when it ate through, not only the ducttape, but the sandals and the surrounding floor as well. HA! Just kidding. The floor was fine. All it really did was allow the thingy that holds my foot in to escape from the ever weaking grasp of the dying tape. So, now I have new sandals. And David doesn't have to smell the old stinky things anymore . . . unless I leave them in his room next year . . . but rest assured I would never do such a dastardly thing unless I thought it would be funny.

Flaming Kiwifruit

AR-336: A Copier Oddessy, Pt. 1

Sometimes the tiniest job can baloon into a tale of epic preportions. Observe:

It seemed like a simple task. I was to go to Tampa . . . or Orlando . . . or somewhere close by it such as Chicago or Tokyo . . . we really weren't sure where . . . to pick up a copier. I didn't 'sweat the small stuff' (where is the copier, what is a copier, how are we going to get there, ect.) as I was informed of the journey several weeks ahead of our scheduled departure date (June 16). So, I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, June 15th rolled around. I went into work, just like any other day. As the day began spiraling to an end, I came to the sudden realization that, the 'small stuff' was still hanging above like an elevator held up by a piece of silly string. Except that silly string can't actually hold things up. So, I'm pretty much crushed . . . but I wasn't crushed, so it's just a bad analogy. But I degress.

So, brought it up with my boss. He seemed quite caught off guard by the question, not even daring to feign memory of the above referenced trip. He quickly told me in no uncertain terms that we were quite uncertain about the whole ordeal. This comforted me. No it didn't. I agreed to call him at 8 in the morning to find out what was going on, if Rachel was coming with me, if there was really such a place as 'Tampa' or 'Orlando.' So I waited.

And wait . . . no, I really didn't wait that long this time. A few hours after my arrival at 'Home Base' (codeword for home. it sounds more dramatic). I learned that Rachel and I were to report to the Auburn office ('Not Home Base') at 0800 hours to depart. So I did.

And did.

And did.

And I'm really overusing that dramatic device, aren't I?

I managed to get to the office right on time. This was a silly thing to do. I should've known no one would be there. Well, except my boss's wife, who assured me he was simply at breakfast and would be back in no time. Soon, the office manager showed up. I explained the situation and he spent app. 15 minutes running around the office frantically trying to confirm that he had no clue what was going on. He seemed well aware of this fact already, and kept pointing it out as he trudged on.

Shane, the delivery guy, came in and went on a delivery.

Finally the boss came back and gave me money for food and stuff, the addresses of the places I would be going to, and instructions, which involved me and the company van. Understand, I was mortified at the thought of driving this trip in the company van. It's not that the van is unsafe, rather . . . uncool. It's a golden-brown minivan. Golden-brown minivan must be the most uncool vehicles on the road (sorry, if you have, have had, will have, or are trying to sell one. the truth hurts). I mean, these things are the modern day equivalent of the white station wagon with the wooden paneling!

But, there was a bigger problem than my personal feelings about the van . . . It was gone!!!!!!

Okay, that seem dramatic enough to leave you guys hanging miserably until I forget to post the rest . . . so . . .

TO BE CONTINUED?

Flaming Kiwifruit

Narcissism

I have a sister! Okay, so I knew that already, but you newcomers probably didn't. You probably thought I just signed all my posts because I'm a narcissist. I am a narcissist, but that is not why I signed all my post. It's because it keeps you, the innocent readers, from thinking my quality has declined suddenly. For example:

Average Reader: WHAT??!!! That is SO stupid! I can't believe the Kiwi wrote that!
Someone Else: That's not the Kiwi. That's the Chimp. See, it's in that ugly orange color.
Average Reader: Oh, I see. Phew, scared me for a second there.
Someone Else: I'm gonna go have a turkey sandwich now.

I like turkey sandwiches, but . . . wait . . . that's not what I was talking about. Yes, we must keep my greatness seperated from the 'common people' (read, lesser beings) (don't read that in parenthises if you're a lesser being/common person)(oh, never mind, it's too late now). So anyway, as I was saying, that's all folks!

Flaming Kiwifruit

P.S. I am SO cool!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just want a PENCIL!!!

If you want to do something simple, the world will turn against you.

I learned this lesson the hard way. I came to my computer desk to retrieve a couple of nicely sharpened pencils. My dad was seated at the computer, he suddenly mad eme stop my task to ask me to list my six favorite songs. Something about the pyramid method and he needed six volunteers, forced volunteers of course. So . . . I obliged him. Naturally, as I stood there with a handful of broken, non-sharp pencils, because that's all I found at the desk . . . Naturally, I could not remember a single song, let alone six, let alone six that I liked . . . so, after thinking, I compiled a list and headed off to my personal stash of pencils. Alas, they too were broken and dull.

Eventually I found the pencils I needed, but by that time, I couldn't remember why I needed them.

Ah, life!

The Chimp

Things I know Today . . .

I have a blog! Oh, wait . . . I did know that yesterday. I could lie and say I forgot, or that I have been living in a weird spacial anomoly, or that my computer crashed, or even simply that I have been too busy. But, alas, the truth is . . . It's such a hassle to post. I have to log on, and then type, and then submit. Okay, maybe it's not such a hassle . . . I guess I really don't have an excuse. But, I am back now! Try to contain your shouts of joy.

After Kiwi Boy's uninspiring post, I had to come back. Besides, I'm the one who shoots for mediocracy! Aiming for perfection is so overdone!

Wow, months of not posting, amusing stories and occurances, and I decide to come back on a day when nothing amusing has happened. Sorry about that. More mediocrity. I think this is even less then mediocrity. Ah! It feels good to fall short of your goals! Especially when you've set them so low!

Well, now that I've made my not so triumphant return, perhaps I'll have something interesting to post tomorrow . . . That is if I post tomorrow . . .

The Chimp, returned from exile!!!

Self imposed exile though it be . . .

Mediocracy and Tedium

It feels really, really, really good to finish a project that you been getting annoyed with. At least, until you get the next project that you get annoyed with. C'est la vie! (For those of you who don't speak French, 'Such is life.'

Anyway, I finally finished backing up all the files yesterday. Life was good. Then I had to go clean covers at the Opelika office. This is a job which has all the tedium of copying files, but with out the air conditioning . . . and with exposure to potentially dangerous chemicals. Granted, I don't quite know how they're dangerous, but it has been 'suggested' that I wear heavy rubber gloves while I do it. The funny thing is even with my annoyance with the task, I was in a very good mood today. Maybe it's because I know I have tomorrow off. Maybe it's because I've returned to the Djere.net forums. Maybe it's just because. Oh, well, life is good.

So, that wasn't quite as amusing as I hoped. I could rewrite it, but, like I always say, 'Why shoot for perfection, when you can settle for mediocracy?'

Wait. I don't really say that, do I? No, I suppose not. Maybe I was just hoping that a witty, pessimistic, off-beat, uninspirational saying could redeem this post. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should stop typing now. Except to sign this post.

Flaming Kiwifruit

The More Things Change . . .

The more things change, the more they . . . well . . . change.

My sis and I took our nephew and neice to the 'Monkey' Park today. It's the local municipal park we used to play at when I was a kid. Just being there with bright-eyed, excited children brought back memories. I can remember happily running around there, full of energy, content to spend the rest of my life there. Well, except that one time I was there with my VBS class all day, and I didn't bring any extra drink. Alabama summers are killer. But, I degress . . .

The point is, those days are gone. As I watched the kids running around happily, I felt like a child again. Then, I tried running around happily. Soon, I had an epiphany . . . I need to work out more. After a half an hour, maybe an hour, I was beat. I don't even think Rachel lasted that long. You have to understand though, this was no walk in the park . . . sorry . . . These kids were INSANE! They wanted to run up every playground, tree, or 50-foot gorrilla in sight . . . Not that there were any 50-foot gorrillas, but if there were, they would have climed up them. So, finally, I came upon the idea of throwing myself upon the giant concrete turtle and playing dead. This failed, as my sandal kept falling off and concrete turtles aren't that comfortable.

So I had a better idea. What better way to end a fun, fun night than by all going to the convenience store and getting sugary things in much to large quantities. Tyler jumped on the idea. Holly did not. It also reminded me of being a kid. "Just a few more minutes . . . PLEASE!" The truth is most kids have figured out that with enough 'few more minutes' you can stretch out to eternity. What they don't realize is that parents/uncles/grandparents/Godfathers also figured this out to use on the responsible/quasiresponsible adults in thier lives. Needless to say it fail. She also tried the most unique stalling tactic I've seen. "I need to get my leaf!" Which was of course on the other side of the play ground. We returned home, at which point, myself, Rachel, and Ralph Nader collapsed from exhaustion. Okay, Ralph Nader wasn't really there, but I just like mentioning him in my posts and I haven't in a while. This has been long. Now, it is over.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Ah, Children

It's east forgot what a . . . joy it was to have small children around. I has it's ups and down. My nephew and neice have been at our house for the week and I've had some time to catalogue the more interesting observations from thier stay since Saturday:

Legos are great. Kids love them, and having kids around gives adults a reason to play with them. Admit it, you love those little colorful blocks too.

Children 12 and under should not even be allowed to look at a hatched. While building a treehouse I turned around to see Tyler, my nephew, valiantly chopping down a branch . . . approximately 6 in. from my head. I quickly explained to him that the hatchet was for myself and his grandfather. (And I wasn't quite sure about his grandfather.either.)

Children have . . . novel approaches to getting the job done. Once when Tyler returned to the treehouse telling us Holli, my neice, did not need his help I turned to see her raising an 8 foot landscaping timber straight up and then letting it fall. This was her plan for moving it. I quickly explained the finer points of construction and the proper way to do a job . . . with help.

Here are some of my favorite quotes from the week so far:






Okay, so I can't think of any right now, but as soon as I do, I'll post them. Have a nice day and a happy middle-aged year.

Flaming Kiwifruit

I Made a Stupid Pun!

I remember doing something today. It was quite amusing and I learned a rather humorous lesson from it. It also had this long intricate story with it. It would have been immensly amusing to all involved. If I ever rember what it was, I'll tell you. Instead, I give you this less amusing, but still entertaining post.

Be careful what you wish for. I didn't have much to do at work. Mostly, just answer phones, which rang approximately every half hour. So, I wanted something to do. Now, I'm making back-ups of all our important files, the hard copies that is. Well, it's something. I'm almost to the "N's" now, but . . . It was "L" for a while there . . . Sorry, dumb pun. That happens when work drives you crazy. Until next time.

Flaming Kiwifruit

(Don't quite know who I'm gonna be next time.)

The Really, Really, Really Dark Side

George Lucas is like Darth Vader. This point was, again, brought home to me by my father. See, in the movies, Vader starts out good, then he gets merged with technology, causing him to become evil. Similarly, Lucas used to be a great film maker. Then, he got technology. Now, he is, to put it nicely, or not, on the dark side, out of touch with audiences who want to see a good film, not a bunch of cool special effects tied together by poor dialouge and bad acting (with the exception of Ewan McGregor). Granted, acting with Hayden Christianson could make Al Gore seem interesting, but it's impressive that McGregor managed to pull off such a convincing act in an unconvincing world. In case you're wondering, I just saw Revenge of the Sith. It was better than the first two, and worth seeing once, just to complete the story, but it doesn't hold a candle, or even one of those cheap Fourth of July sparklers, to the first three. My advice, see it once, then forget it exists.

On a more spiritual note, I learned tonight that Abba was more of a proper name for a father and slave were not allowed to use it. Thus when Paul say we can say "Abba, father" it is a symbol of our freedom and acceptance as children of God. Okay, deep thought over. Have a good day, night, or whatever it is when you read this.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Your Call Is Very Important to Us . . .

If your boss leaves you to answer phones, and they don't ring for a long period of time, get suspicious. Here's what happened to me yesterday.

(All times approximate)
8:30 am - Our office manager, Bobby Ray, leaves me to answer phones.
9:15 am - Jim, one of our technicians shows up, prompting, by his mere presence, a sudden influx of calls.
9:30 am - I field the last of the influx of calls.
11:00 am - Scott, another technician, shows up and I help him unload copiers. He notes the lack of service calls. I explain it's been a slow day.
11:30 am - Bobby Ray returns, asking why I wasn't answering calls. We quickly determine that the phones are dead.

So, anyway, it turns out they were doing construction down the road and failed to tell anybody what was going on. If you're wondering why I didn't catch on, going that long without any phone calls isn't really unusual.

Flaming Kiwifruit

WHAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There are some problems that can only be solved with an eight pound sledge-hammer. So says my dad. He didn't elaborate, but I see what he means. Here are a few of my best times to use said sledge hammer:

When the lawnmower won't work.
When the toaster won't work.
When the computer won't work.
When the stupid employees won't work.
When the cats won't work. (All the time.)
When imprisoned in a Soviet prison camp by the evil Communists! (MacGyver could've done it)

Yeah, I think that's it. Hope I didn't miss anything.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Disclaimer: Neither this blog nor my father in any way promote violence, real or percieved, against employees, animals or Communists, with or without a sledge hammer.

Bringing Down the House

The only thing scarier than my Dad with my Dad's power tools is my Mom with my Dad's power tools. Or maybe it's turning on the stove and watching a pot holder catch fire . . . with my whole family in the kitchen watching. No way to hide that. Well, at least the house is still standing.

At least I made a really good cake from scratch with whatever just happened to be around the house. Flour, sugar, milk, coffee grounds, mint chocolate hot cocoa mix, pecans, walnuts, and chocolate chips. What a combination.

The Restless Soul Finds Protein

I am rather restless. I was about to go crazy tonight, so I took a walk. Turns out that was all I wanted. I walked the neighborhood and felt better. I just can't stay still I suppose.

Also, nearly everything has protein. Black beans, cheese, donuts, soft pretzels, milk, pudding, potato chips, even our laundry detergent. Okay, just kidding about the detergent, it was more high in the folic acid area. The highest I found was the cottage cheese with a whopping 13 grams per serving. That's three grams higher than my turkey I make sandwhiches with! Yes, I actually checked all these things, and went around the kitchen giving Rachel and my father a play by play. Weird, huh?

Flaming Kiwifruit

Worlds Collide (In a Good Sort of Way)

You can play power chords along with bluegrass and still make it sound good! Also, a banjo accompaniment can sound good on Caedmon's Call's 'April Showers.' It was a fun night all around. Sitting around playing music with all my our fellow yankees and eating venison burgers. Wow, it's good to be home.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Um, yeah

Um, yeah . . . If I learned something today, I forgot it. Traveling 8 hours will do that. Well, I guess I learned that using one of those nifty headsets for your cell phone is really cool. I was talking to my mom while carrying loads of junk from my car to the house. Tommorrow is Mother's Day. I don't know what that has to do with anything, but I am really, really out of it. Um . . . yeah . . .

So, Borghy asked me to post this song on my website, so I will. Don't steal it. Yeah, that would anger me. And you probably wouldn't even have the right tune.

Broken Halos

Broken halos litter the ground
Like diamonds in the sand
And innocence is shed like so much
Garbage along the roads of our land
In your eyes I see reflections of a man
Who's seen angels fall
And the tulmult of your soul
As you wrestle with it all
I can hear you pray

Is there grace for fallen angels
To learn to fly again

Broken souls, like dust
Cling to the soles of my feet
But I've no answer for you
I can offer no relief
So what am I to do
For you my friend to make you whole again
But pray that the grace of God
Teach you to fly again
For I know

There is grace for fallen angels
To learn to fly again

Have you ever seen a shooting star
Streaking through the night
Have you ever seen falling angels
Returning to flight

Pray for grace for fallen angels
To learn to fly again
Pray for grace for fallen angels
To learn to fly again

© 2005 FlamingKiwi Music

Yeah, that's it. Hope you like it. Good night.

Flaming Kiwifruit

Is This a Dream?

You just never know . . . You think you're asleep, so nothing else interesting will happen, and then you get suprised.

I was quite sound asleep approximately 20 minutes ago. Then the sound of loud music, from outside and the sudden turning on of my light, woke me up. I promptly yelled to my roommate, who I thought had turned it on to no avail.

So, what else could I do? I dragged my self out of bed and turned my light off, quite in a daze. Matt, realizing what he had done quickly apologized from his room. He didn't know I was asleep, so I quickly forgave him, and was headed off to bed, when I heard it.

It was that music again. Coming through my door. I thought to myself, "This isn't going to do at all." So I went outside, where the music almost leveled me. Turns out it was my a bunch of guys from the door. Without missing a beat, Gabe told me it would just be a minute. He thought I was going to complain, and the truth is, I had intended to. It was, after all, after courtesy hours, and I was quite tired.

But I didn't. See, once I saw them all gathered around, jamming away on thier guitars, I was really impressed. I guess is one thing to wake up because someone's banging on the wall, or blaring a stereo, but this was art. So, all I could say was, "Sounds good," with and approving smile.

So, I turned to walk away, thinking my strange night was over, when I saw someone watching me from the stairwell. It was Diana, one of my co-workers, shaking her head slowly with a laptop on her lap. I stopped and looked at her for a moment, perplex. "What are you doing outside my door with a laptop?"

Diana seemed quite amused by this, so she explained to me that she was using Matt's laptop, and invited me to see here PowerPoint presentation. After this, I returned to bed, but it just seemed like this needed to be cronicled. So I did. Now, I'm going to bed.

Flaming Kiwifruit

On a Roll

When you go to take off a flat tire, make sure the parking brake is engaged. I didn't. It was fine until I actually went to turn the lug nut. That's about the point when the car started rolling towards the hill. Naturally, I valiently grasped onto the special tire wrench thing to stop it and held back the force of the car.

So, there we were, me and the car locked in perfect tension, neither willing to budge. Thankfully, my mother had recently purchased me a nifty cell phone holder that clipped to my belt. It was on the side with my free hand. I swiftly pulled the cell phone loose and dialed my house, which was only about five feet away. The conversation went something like this.

Ian: Hello.
Me: Ian! Come out and put the parking brake on my car!
Ian (confused): What?
Me (vehemently): COME OUTSIDE AND TURN ON MY PARKING BREAK!!!!!!!!
Ian (still confused): Okay . . .

Thankfully he rushed out and put on the parking brake saving me from imminent danger. I certainly won't make that mistake again.

Flaming Kiwifruit

I'm Back!

Sorry again for the absence. This past week I've done everything short of attaining world peace. A quick run down of my recent activies:

1. Did all the principal photography on a short film.
2. Wrote a 3,000 word paper.
3. Learned several piano pieces/scales.
4. Planned and excecuted the invasion of several small countries . . .

No, wait. That last one's not right. Oh, well, anyway there were more accomplishments, but enough with the excuses. Onto the fun stuff. I went to Junior/Senior last night with a friend of mine, Borghy. It was great. Here's what I learned:

1. There is a thin line between a hotel and a theme park. That place was AMAZING.
2. Glass elevators make great rides.
3. Tyler likes photography.
4. When you dance, the guy's hand does NOT go on the girls shoulder. I think I already knew that, but I clearly forgot.
5. "Roast Duck Confit" is not a dish. It's French for "A teenie bit of duck shredded over something."
6. Although it's cool watching your chocolate wrap stick thing melt into your coffee, it doesn't make your coffee taste chocolatey.
7. You can make a paper cup out of a large cloth napkin.
8. If you're in an area with a shortage of bears, gators are sufficient to stand in.
9. Don't try to jump into the gator spring.
10. I like to play piano.
11. Billy Joel, "Pianoman" really is a great song.
12. Heart of palms make a great addition to any salad.
13. When you go to something so memorable, you learn a lot of new things.

Okay, well, that was wordy. Or long at least. Good Night all.

Flaming Kiwifruit