OK, so I was trolling through the tubes, checking out cute doggie videos. Found a good one, 2 dogs playing without humans interfering.
Category Archives: fun
oh I wish I was an oscar meyer driver
… what a better driver I would be!
One southern Wisconsin homeowner is probably not in love with the Oscar Mayer wiener. The famed hot dog’s Wienermobile crashed Friday into the deck and garage of a home in Mount Pleasant, about 35 miles south of Milwaukee. [Yahoo! News]
Just couldn’t let you miss this one, folks.
hangouts
Ever think about your favorite hangouts? I mean those good places where, over the years, you’ve gotten a good meal, a cold beer, or a cup of joe? I was talking to a friend and fellow writer recently, about such places. And how, as we get older, good ones are getting harder to find and hold on to. Like friends, when you think about it.
Back when my friends and I were at Chico State, we had a few hangouts like that. I remember a small bar – possibly called Joe’s – with sawdust on the floor, Anchor Steam on tap, and peanuts. I used to like peanuts and cold beer. I don’t drink anymore; it’s antithetical to my quest for transpersonal and introspective clarity. Or something. It’s also expensive and fattening. But I digress.
My favorite hangout in Chico was a cool place in an old building right on the edge of campus, called the Madison Bear Garden. It was decorated – maybe slathered is a better word – with fun junk, and the food was great. Imagine my surprise when a friend’s blog post about our alma mater lead me to wonder if the joint is still there. It is, and they even have a Web site.
that’ll do, pig
There had been no confirmed deaths in the United States related to swine flu as of Tuesday afternoon. But another virus had killed thousands of people since January and is expected to keep killing hundreds of people every week for the rest of the year.
That one? The regular flu. [CNN]
Remember the old Pink Panther movies, with Peter Sellers? Something would annoy him — The Phantom, a parrot, whatever — and he would call it Swine …. Like “Swine bird!” Cracked me up.
So I say that at least the swine flu has stolen a few news cycles from the swine recession and the swine waterboarding.
I can’t find a youtube with Sellers saying Swine anything, but I found the one where he says, “does your dog bite?” This is one of the funniest little scenes ever to get stuck in my head, and make me laugh at inappropriate moments.
like pork?
So does the wolf in this very cool video.
Spotted on Ze’s Page. See Blogroll, right column.
Yes, over there ——>
seeds
Well, here we are, another
Friday in paradise. And on
this soft and muted day
of high gray air, in which
the birds have gone to ground,
sleeping off the seeds pecked
from the good earth in yesterday’s sun,
our property taxes are due.
Dead line.
Just thought I’d bring it up,
to help you out.
Here’s a real poem now:
Rondelet
by AnonymousI never meant
For you to go. The thing you heard
I never meant
for you to hear. The night you went
away I knew our whole absurd
sweet world had fallen with a word
I never meant.
just try
to watch this without laughing.
on disability
“The Authors Guild, of which I am a member, has done zilch to secure disability protection for writers. In my line of work, disability comes down to two things: memory loss and something else, I forget what. You lose the vocabulary retrieval skills you had when you were 30 and interesting words such as ‘parietal lobe’ and ‘sedimentary rocks’ flocked to your brain, and now you sit inert at the laptop for a number of horrendous minutes trying to remember the word for the thing that if you picked it up and dropped it on your foot it would be very, very bad — anvil! This is a disability, and a writer should be able to receive payments, and also for the other thing, whatever it is.”
Carpal tunnel, Garrison! The other thing is CTD – carpal tunnel disease. It’s either that, or maybe AAS – anvil ass syndrome, which develops from years of sitting. It turns to solid iron, but not in a good way. See when you’re an English Major – pictured here – they tell you that the secret to success as a writer is AIC – ass in chair.
He’s not doing it right. I don’t see a chair, do you? I don’t even see a desk, just a dog. Oh well.
I’m very good at AIC. Regrettably, the computer in front of my C where I sit on my A is connected to NET, which stands for something else, I forget what.
merry christmas!
Well, I guess it’s a little late to be yawping out Merry Christmas upon the Hoople-trodden thoroughfare, but I’ve been OBE.* My folks and I returned last night from our annual pilgrimage to the woody shire where my brother the Hobbit Prince dwells in a wee cottage with our kindly kin and a pack of three toothsome hoodoo cats.
I amuse myself. I tease because my Bro lives in a place with lots of real trees, while I live in a handsome condo complex with tall shrubbery; lollipop trees, misbegotten of some illconsidered coupling of Edward Scissorhands and The Knights Who Say Ni.
We had a lovely time. It rained through Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, with even a spattering of hail to keep it exciting. It was nice and cold, which makes it all more Christmasy to me. Good old Santa always comes through, since as a group and speaking very generally, we’ve been good. There were toys to play with and an Elfin Nephew to keep good charge of that. All the family furries got new woobies to gnaw and claw and chase. Our Happy loves to make her woobies squeak; oh, how they do suffer ‘tween her teeth.
We, some of us, came down with Christmas colds, which kinda sucked. But I’m feeling better today. My head is finally clearing, if not my winterslumbering mind. Last night was admittedly miserable. Slipping down off Tejon Pass into the Santa Clarita valley, my ears plugged up and my head felt like a football in a bench vice. So it goes. Should be all cleared up in a few more days, and at least I can stay off the I-5 for the foreseeable future.
I hope you and yours had a holly jolly Christmas too, this year, and got some pudding in your stocking or whatever you’re into. And if you were the host of this year’s Dickensian fete, you might need to know how to clean your toilet with a Coke.
Here’s a Thought For The Day.
Neither genius, fame, nor love show the greatness of the soul. Only kindness can do that.
– Jean Baptiste Henri Lacordaire
preacher, journalist and activist (1802-1861)
*Overcome by Events or Out of Body Experience, your choice.
the crowd roared
Here’s a fun little video for your Friday night.
first thing we do …
awww
What in the world is the matter with Calvin’s mom?
He’s only 6 for cryin’ out loud. Make with the cookies already. Time flies, and before you know it he’ll be texting behind the wheel and putting the sedan in a ditch.
Metaphor 