It's Now In Writing...

The cat officially has a name...

A month ago we were happily calling her "Momma" because we thought with her being a stray, and her rapidly growing belly, that she had to be pregnant... we were wrong. So now it seems silly to call her Momma. So we began round two of name-calling to see what stuck. This was fun until one day the cat went into heat. After a few days of this never ending meowing and demand for attention, we were exhausted and knew we had to get her into the vet a.s.a.p. So we got her a collar (and a tag) so we don't look like bad pet owners to the vet. And... after over two months of debate, we were forced to bite the bullet and get her name in writing. According to the little purple heart-tag, the name is....

Kitty.

Boy was that a let-down.

Here's a picture of Kitty with her new collar so that this post is not a complete waste of your time...

haha

More here: http://community.webshots.com/user/tiffjamaica of Kitty, who loves to mess up pictures... and of John and me, too.

Long Time No See

It's been almost two months since John or I have posted any news on the blog! Weirdly, this time we actually have news to post! This is now old news, but on December 16th John proposed (quite cleverly might I add) and we've been engaged now for 44 days! I didn't think after 4 years of dating and 3 of living together that it would be much different being engaged, but it is! It's a lot more fun and I will tell you the top three reasons:

(for your viewing pleasure)

Reason #1 Why Engagement is Fantastic:

I get to wear this all the time and boy, does it sparkle.

Reason #2 Why Engagement is Fantastic:
We get to plan a vacation out of the country that will actually happen.

Reason #3 Why Engagement is Fantastic:

John will do things like walk to the grocery store in a snow storm.

Building the Anticipation

Yep, calm down, calm down.

So awhile ago, a long time ago, way back when autumn was new, I started a painting. It started out like this:


All wrapped up, fresh from the store. Soon it started to look like this:

But then I fell off the wagon of motivation, scared by the details, and entered into a world of NCAA Football '05. While the UDUFF Roosters went on to win three consecutive championships, the painting has found its way to the backburner. But now it's almost a winter... there's a cold front a-comin'... and these harvest colors aren't nearly as fun. Anyways, here's the most recent shot:

Yikes. The thought of what I have left to do is scary. It's all detail. I should just paint walls.

But no, in a show of determination, I am stating the projected finish of my masterpiece, which I predict will earn me a spot into Britain's illustrious Royal Society of Arts and Letters and Other Stuff. It's so exciting.

Our Cat

This little guy is quickly unfolding into quite the story.

First off, the poor thing still doesn't have a name, and Tiff has vetoed all my suggestions - even Batman!, so I'm out of ideas. Well, right now, I'm pushing for Ms. Chief... ha ha, get it ... mischief, Ms.Chief... ha ha. The cat does seem to at least acknowledge the familiar call of any cat owner, that tongue sticking to your teeth sound. Maybe on her name tag we should just put '!!,' like the Bushpeople of Namibia. Except that sound is too harsh... maybe it should be '(!!).' That's '!!' said under your breath. To be fair, I'll add that I've done my fair share of name vetoing.

Secondly, it turns out that our loving cat is probably a pregnant cat. That's right, all signs seem to point to kittens around Christmas. Although she was a stray, she is clearly still a kitten, so when we brought her into our home, we didn't really consider the possibility that she may be pregnant. But she's gone from very playful and aggressive - and playing fetch better than any dog - to fat and lazy... along with a nipple thing that Tiff found on the internet, so yeah, she appears pregnant.

Anyways, while it makes some of Tiff's and my decisions more difficult and has the potential to be a pain in the ass, it's still pretty exciting. I hope she's like this cat and mated with a dog, or better yet a pony!

Damn. Or well, surprise, surprise, that story about the cat was debunked by science. Stinkin' science.

Happy Thanksgiving

So here's the story of Thanksgiving. It comes from a coworker who recently visited the new Native American Museum here in DC. While she was familiar, as we all are, with the story of starving Pilgrims and generous Indians and the first Thanksgiving, she learned and shared with me the true story of Thanksgiving, supported by the Smithsonian. So here it is as told by me, who heard it from a coworker.

A long time ago, in the new world, there were tribes of men and women living happily in peace with nature. Things were great... until the white man came. More specifically, until the white man brought forth the evil fury of disease. Disease wiped out entire tribes, killing just about everyone. Some guys didn't die though. They were generally rewarded by being captured and winning an all expenses paid trip throughout Europe, as part of a traveling freak show or something.

Then the Pilgrims came over and set up a village. One of these traveling traveling freak show Indians asked if he could catch a ride home and the Pilgrims were like, 'Sure.' But when he got back, all the tribes, in true Indian form, were like, 'How...' which meant, 'what in tarnation?' You see they didn't want him because all that time he spent traveling around Europe turned him into a freak, so he decided to hang with the Pilgrims in the village.

The Pilgrims in the meantime were struggling to figure out how to plant and fish and hunt effectively in this crazy new world, so they asked the guy to teach them, and he said, 'Sure.' In fact, taught them how to grow all sorts of yummy foods. So the villagers rejoiced.

Come harvest time, they had a bunch of food, enough to last the winter, so the religious Pilgrims gave all the credit to God. They were like, 'God is great!' and God is good!' and they thanked Him for all the food... by shooting guns into the air.

All the gun shooting piqued the interest of not just one local tribal chief, but many chiefs. All the chiefs came to investigate the gun fire saying to each other, 'How...' which meant, 'the who what?' And which eventually meant, 'How... can we get some?' The Pilgrims, being peace loving Christians, with many Horns of Plenty decided to share, inviting the Indians into the village, thus the first Thanksgiving was served.

Soon thereafter, disease spread through the tribes and killed off most of them... and the villagers rejoiced.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody. And remember to give thanks to one Europeanized Indian, who was ostracized into helping us out.

Quality

I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance when I was, maybe, 19. I think I was too young then to get it - I probably still am - but there's one part I find myself thinking of from time to time. The guy's a college professor and he writeson the blackboard for the class, 'What is quality?'

I mention that, perhaps just to show that somehow I have quality, but with the intention of talking about Christmas. It's a little early, I'll agree, but this being my first Christmas away from home, Thanksgiving is my time to be home for the holidays.

You see, in my family growing up, come this time of year, the phrase 'quantity over quality' would come visit along with older and wiser siblings. 'Quantity over quality' was the result of a mother working at a thrift shop, which probably could have been dubbed Santa's Workshop with most of our many gifts being found there. And it could have sponsorship, the Duffy's Santa's Workshop brought to you by the Duffy family. That being said, there were many Christmas afternoons spent looking at a pile of opened presents and thinking, 'Ok, so what exactly did I get?'

That wasn't meant to be so harsh. In fact, I could easily take this and run with the quality of those Christmases, family all together for just a few days, but I won't. Instead, I state here my new philosophy. It probably derives from the overall childhood that I gave a glimpse of, but 'Quality is worth it.'

Call me snooty, but quality makes things better; we should celebrate quality. I've been doing it for awhile, a lot of people have, but why go to Subway when Panera is right next door. It may be an extra buck, but it's a well spent extra buck. I've got a pair of pants from Abercrombie and Fitch - which I'm still a little embarrassed to admit - that are 6 years old. The baggy pants with big pockets may not be the height of fashion these days, but the pants are just as good as new - minus the stepped on hem. I ripped a big hole in a pair of jeans from Old Navy after just six months.

Anyways, it may sound redundant but I believe in the value of quality, even if I don't find much quality in motorcycles.

I Bonsai.

A while back, I posted about growing a peach tree, bonsai peach tree, from scratch - I mean, from seed. Like a good blogger should, I promised updates. Well, it's been five months and well, not much has happened... until now. The little ceramic pot is now home to a bunch of green things; it's very exciting. In fact, right now in your head, there should be some "progress/into the future" themed music playing. So with no further ado: (Dah-Dah-Dah-Dah-DUNH! da-da-dun-da-da-dun-da-da-dun...)



Now, I'm no botanist, but I'm pretty sure that that's not a peach tree in the making. I'm not sure what it is, or how it happened, but it's still pretty exciting. Next on the grow-a-tree-from-seed list is... pomegranates!! Dah-Dah-Dah-Dah-DUNH! I hear they make great bonsais..

I'm planting them from seed because bonsais are expensive. $1000 for a tree that's difficult, at best, to maintain. No thank you. But maybe, just maybe, I can grow a bunch from seed and sell them at my own bonsai store... I'll name it, 'I Bonsai.'. I'm going to be rich!!! Rich, I tell you!

Here are my bonsais so far:


Pitiful lot. Especially the newest member of the club:


It's an azalea. Tiff's Aunt dug it out of her yard for me. She's very gracious. It looked pretty good in the ground, but now it's just a twig. I could decorate it and have my own Charlie Brown tree, or bush. We'll see if it survives... I'll keep you updated, like a good blogger.

USA Today

Again, it's been awhile since I've written one of these. I've gained access, most days, to the USA Today recently, so I've been reading that instead of writing. By 'reading' I usually mean skimming over the articles and getting bogged down in the crossword puzzle.

I've had my eye out for interesting stuff though, but it's all been election, campaign, Iraq, campaign, democrats, republicans, Iraq, election... I find it all pretty boring. Repetitively boring. They spent nearly a week analyzing a botched joke of a man who has already proved that he won't be climbing the ladder into the White House.

I even find the Life section dull. The Life section is always a bizarrely fun. A mix of all the entertainment news and ways to have fun. But this newspaper, it seems, thinks the only fun is with what's on TV or at the movie theater. So naturally I hunt for the shows that I watch, or purposefully don't watch, an dI'm always disappointed. And when I'm not disappointed I hold on to the thought of it and become disappointed with the show.

And the Sports section pisses me off. It doesn't follow any one team or one city, so there's no sense of loyalty, no reason to jump to the first pace of Sports. It's kind of like catching the first five minutes of SportsCenter each day; it might be be good, it might be interesting, but you never really know what you'll get.

The editorials are the last thing that I don't like. They just lack of confidence. It always feels like they are saying, "Well, this is what we think, but please feel free to not listen to us and think whatever you want." Grow some balls, USA Today!

So the only story I really remember is an article, I think from California, where they are pushing to outlaw bullets made of a certain type of metal, lead?, because they contaminate the environment and kill wildlife. If you think about it, it does make sense, but... who would of thought that bullets would be killing things. It's an outrage!!

The Cat

So yeah... we got a cat. I'm allergic to cats. Right now my hand is all swollen up from scratches. My hand is all scratched up from playing with the cat... I can't resist. Anyways, I refuse to call it Cleo, Tiffany's pick, so for now I'm still calling it 'cat,' but I'm open to suggestions...

How about 'Batman'?

Brand New Addition

I have fought to adopt a cat for the past three years of living with my boyfriend with the answer always being an unwavering "no". Last Thursday I made a Christmas list. "A gray cat" was at the top of that list. It was on the list mainly just to annoy John. However, on Friday just before midnight, I heard some serious meow-ing coming from outside our apartment (keep in mind we live on the 4th floor). I opened the door to a very skinny, very loud, very cold, gray kitten. If that's not fate, I give up. She slept all weekend while we frantically tried to find a home for her. She looked so sweet and just wanted to sleep on you all the time... we even cancelled our plans to go out of town for this. Around Monday night, we realized we weren't going to find a place for her and decided we would have to keep her b/c there was no way we could take her to the pound.

I think this kitty is a con-artist. As soon as that decision was made, the cat stopped sleeping all of the time and promptly began scratching the furniture, stinking up the place with some major gas, making friends with our toilet water, never letting us leave her sight, and eyeing my hamster whilst licking her lips.

But hey, I like some personality in my animals.

here she is...

I think I'm going to call her Cleo for two reasons. 1) She has white fur eyeliner which makes me think of Cleopatra. 2) Miss Cleo was the name of that conartist Jamaican psychic woman. She was really from L.A. Ha.

Mix it Up

I found a fantastic site today that lets you compile your music & post it online... and I think this blog needs a few tunes for your reading pleasure, so today I made an e-mixed tape.

When I was 14, there was nothing quite as satisfying as trying to construct what would ultimately be the best mixed tape known to man. The sense of accomplishment brought on by the relentless hours of sitting on the floor, fighting with the dual cassette player, calculating the timing of songs on each side of the tape, and pouring your heart into the perfect playlist was unmatched. It was a greatness that kids today will never know, because what used to take me a solid 8 hours to complete, I finished in less than a half hour today with the help of iTunes, a few websites, and high-speed internet. We've come a long way, baby. And there's no feeling of job-well-done, only a disappointment that I had to settle on songs that were already downloaded onto my computer, leaving my old blood, sweat, and tears mixed tapes behind.

I must say it was pretty fun though, and now you find blog readers can listen to some tunes! There are some songs that John loves, some songs we both love, and some songs I love. And my all time favorite song, one that's been on every mixed tape & cd I've ever made - You Can't Always Get What You Want.

I think the e-boombox works interactively, too. If you hate a song, just fast forward.

Get your own Flash MP3 Player

Extreme Makeover

That's right, the television show.

It's quite possibly the worst idea for a TV show... find ugly people and make them beautiful. It was the worst until The Swan built on the idea by making it into a contest... as if the poor makeoverees haven't been through enough....

But that's all old news now, as I think both have fallen off the primetime television playlist... replaced by, no-doubt, Nanny to the Rescue! If you ask me, just give the kids a spoonful of sugar... that's all the medicine they need. But out of the ashes of such an awful show grew Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, only one of the greatest shows of all time. This hour long show usually has me crying by the first commercial break.

I think the biggest appeal is that it truly feels like a selfless show... which in turn is probably very self-promoting and ultimately selfish, but I'm not too worried about that. It not only makes you want to own an awesome house, but help others who may need help. I'm not saying that I'm jumping into the world of charity work just yet, but I like the idea.

Opposed to this show is the recent string of game shows. Deal or No Deal started it, and now there is 1 vs 100, The Rich List, and I just saw an ad for one called Show Me the Money!! A very different idea drives these shows, which while their still entertaining, it makes you wonder what's next. In my opinion, the world of game shows needs an extreme makeover.

And the Award for Boyfriend-of-the-Week goes to:

Ahh, my first post. Since there's no limit to what I can or cannot write about, let's start off with a bang and talk about the man himself, John Duffy.

The good behavior has been off the charts in the past seven days and includes buying flowers for my mother and grandmother, going grocery shopping without me, filling my car up with gas, cleaning out the clogged sink, being a huge help at my craft show during weather that was only one step away from tornado, surprising me with tickets to a ballet of Dracula, and of course, inviting me to join this here blog.

I'm not sure if these things were a result of some previous bad behavior I have yet to find out about, or perhaps he's just racking up the kudos so I can't nag him about playing PS2 football every day. Or maybe it was that chocolate pie I made him on Thursday. Whatever the cause, I'm not complaining. But if I were complaining, hypothetically, I'd complain about how the mayo knives he uses to make his sandwiches always end up strategically placed on the side of the sink. Not in the sink. Not in the dishwasher. On the side of the sink where the mayo can get stuck to the chrome and cause me a good five minutes of scrubbing. But I'm not complaining because I got to go the ballet tonight. :)

We're Growing

Yep, The Muted Guerrilla is growing, maybe not in readership. That's my fault. I haven't blogged in awhile. I haven't had much interest to, to be honest. For that reason, I'm bringing in some help.

That's right, for a limited time only, I'm inviting my beautiful girlfriend, the one, the only, Miss Tiffany Hanback to join me in my, as advertised, 'eternal struggle within, now online.'

That being said, I hope to hear about a young friend she made today, but just like me, her posts are her choice and there's no limit to what she can and cannot write.

John Duffy's Words

I started another blog. I call it John Duffy's Words. It's kind of like a word of the day, but without the everyday thing. Right now I only have a few words, and I'm not going to stress over finding new ones. I'll just post them as I find them.

At one point I had a blog where Tiff and I were going to post these little word challenges we gave ourselves... yep, we're dorks. The idea was to pick three words from a fish bowl that we filled with words and make up a little story, not long by any means, that contains the three words. And every week or so we would post the story and pick three new words to write another story. Now that I'm explaining it, I'll admit that I really like the idea, but in practice, it was a little different. We both got really into it and at last count, my story involving the words 'sloth,' 'melon,' and 'sprinkle cheese' was some fifteen page, four chapter story about a witch, and I got stuck trying to incorporate the word 'melon.' I hadn't even given thought to 'sprinkle cheese' yet.

Anyways, like I said, John Duffy's Words may be a slow growth project, but I like the idea. Plus, I'd like to think that the bowl of words would include words a bit more profound than 'sprinkle cheese.'

Running Late

I always seem to be running late. Usually I have no reason for this; I think I'll have plenty of time to get ready, but then I wind up running out the door a few minutes after the time that I've told myself is the latest I can possibly leave.

The worst part is, every single day, as I'm speeding out of the parking lot, I never seem to know how I got to be so late. Then I start humming some song that I sang, in full, in the shower, and likely came up with some dance moves to go along with it... or without thinking I contort myself to some samurai warrior face that I was practicing in the mirror... and I think, 'Oh yeah...' stepping on the gas a bit harder. Then I usually think, 'wait, did I brush my teeth?'

As a result of running late, I feel like I'm always in a hurry, having to speed to work or wherever it is I'm going. Working the overnights, my commute to work is usually pretty speedy.

I've found though that the faster I go, the slower everyone else goes. Without following close, I tend to speed up behind people, and as I do, brake lights turn on in front of me, there speed drops often below the speed limit, and I'm left crying out 'what the..." to an empty passenger's seat. It's very aggravating.

I'm convinced people see headlights behind them, driving with purpose at eleven o'clock at night, and immediately conclude it has to be a police car. If I was the police I would pull them over just for being suspicious. It would suck to be a cop, they probably have to deal with that all the time. Yeah, they can speed off, but they have to get by all the speed-limit-obeying model citizens first. But the police are never late. They get there when they get there.

Egg Challenge Results

I am declaring myself victorious in the egg challenge. And not a moment too soon... I started to feel a little strange on the insides. Now I just need to find myself a good doctor.

So Tiff, who wasn't quite as egg-streme with this challenge as I was, and I were talking over pancakes and eggs at IHOP, our final dinner of the week. Both of us noticed a few things that I would never have mentioned otherwise. Neither of us drank a lot of water throughout the week, which is strange as I've been drinking a lot of water recently.

The other thing of interest is we both craved fruit. At work I had a strong hankering for bananas and pears, both of which I hardly ever eat otherwise. Bananas I don't even like, but man, did they look tastey.

The next challenge I'm thinking will involve toothpaste, particularly Tom's of Maine. As for food challenges, the next go around will probably be something with apples. I haven't quite worked out the details yet, but apples each day should at least keep the doctor away.

Cha-ching!

So this makes me chuckle. The ancient Japanese text on tea preparation, a national tradition, is translated as The Classic of Tea, which in Japanese is called Cha Ching. Makes one wonder of the deeper meaning of Baddabing-Baddaboom.

I'm not too into tea myself, but I like the idea of the tea ceremony. Not so much the tea party, but the Japanese tradition. The idea just feels peaceful to me.

I visited a Japanese garden, once, in Ft. Worth, TX. I think that same weekend I went to the Ko-Bell Rodeo, "celebrating 1,632 consecutive weekends of rodeo action." Hee-ha! Texans have their own traditions. There were burning stoves in the stands to keep folks warm. It was winter.

I don't remember much of the Japanese garden, but there was a tea house. And I believe they had a rock garden, but when I was thereit needed some work done to it. It needed some serious Zen-ing.

I mention the rock garden because I was flipping through Wikipedia. The world-famous rock garden of Ryoan-ji, first off kicks ass. Anyplace that's been fully operational and in daily use for some 500-plus years kicks ass. But more importantly, it's got 15 stones in it that are arranged in five islands. From any point around the garden, only 14 stones can be seen. One, a different one depending on where you are standing, is always out of sight. It is said that all 15 stones can only be seen after one reaches enlightenment. That just fills me with spiritual awe.

If only I could cash in all that spirituality, I would take it to the bank... cha-ching, cha-ching!

Egg-cellent

I'm into day 4 of the great egg challenge. It's very egg-citing. I actually just had a bite of ham salad. It was a small bite, a nibble really, but it got me a bag of free food. I hope Tiff understands.

Since my eggs and sausage culinary masterpiece on day 1, I've enjoyed a delicious quiche, two more fried egg sandwiches, and a boatload of deviled eggs. My last sandwich involved too much bacon, which I've learned sticks with you. I've drank about a gallon of water trying to erase the taste of bacon, but to no avail. I'm still hoping to find something that looks more like this tasty treat from Spanglish:


I hope Tiff understands. wink, wink.

As for the challenge, it's going great. The only hard part has been at work I get very hungry. I'm surrounded by all sorts of snacks for my choosing for eight long hours, but I've been good and I get to look forward to some more deviled eggs when I get home. I can't tell you how good the deviled eggs are. I feel great though. I thought maybe all the protein would rush me to the bathroom or all the cholesterol would rush me to the doctor, but neither has happened, which I guess is a good thing. I can report that after three days, eggs are not at all an aphrodesiac, which I probably could have guessed. I hope Tiff understands.

Stay tuned for the second half and egg-zilerating conclusion of the Great Egg Challenge coming soon.

The Egg Challenge

Let me first say, I am not sure where the idea came from, but alongside my girlfriend, I have accepted the Egg Challenge.

A full week of eggs. Eggs for breakfast, eggs for lunch, eggs for dinner, eggs for anytime between. If eggs are not the focal point of the meal/snack, then it is off limits this week. That leaves us with such great eggy meals as scrambled eggs, fried eggs, deviled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, egg salad, quiche, omelettes, and whatever else I or Tiff can concoct.

We started Sunday - wrote this Sunday night - off with some deviled eggs, and just to get the desired aroma, hard-boiled eggs. Then we followed that with a fried egg and cheese sandwich, which was delicious. I predict this will be my staple food this week. I had some cantaloupe on the side of my lunch. For dinner I whipped up some scrambled eggs and cooked some kielbasa and toast to go with it. It's weird, replace breakfast sausage with dinner sausage and it's a whole new meal.

One day down, working on two, and I'm doing alright. The worst part so far has been feeling the fried egg sit in my belly and dread the thought of eating more eggs... not a good sign on day one. That and not snacking at work, God, I love NutterButters.

Day 2 is starting nicely, I'll keep you posted throughout the week. Actually Day 2 there were no glitches. And Day 3 is cruising right along. Bacon and egg sandwich, here I come.

Broken Glass

My eye glasses broke the other day. It sucks.

It's not too bad of a break, more of a chip really. A small piece of the lences chipped off at the bottom leaving what looks like a permanent rain drop stuck to me lense.

I never wore glasses growing up. I got a pair in high school, but I hardly ever used them. I didn't start wearing any regularly until Junior or Senior year of college. I was so scholarly then. Now I always wear them, so not wearing them feels bizarre, particularly when I go to rub my eyes. So it took a bit, but I've gotten used to looking through the strange spot, but it creates a lot of funny looks, which leads to explaining the same thing over and over... it's only happened twice so far, but I imagine it will happen a few more times at least.

Anyways, now I have to add 'go get new glasses' onto a growing to-do list that hasn't seen anything get crossed off in awhile.

McDonald's Tax

I don't go to McDonald's very often, but check this out. McDonald's has it's own taxes.

Look there. Below the sub-total. Eat In Tax: $.48. They charge you extra for eating in the building. Finding reasons for it, I guess it could make sense. They are suppose to wipe the tables down, and I'd hate to be in charge of cleaning those bathrooms. Yikes.

What gets me, though, is, there's no consequence for ordering to-go and then staying. You could stay all all day long and avoid the $.48. Rub your kids snotty boogers anywhere and everywhere the whole live long day and not pay their little eat-in tax.

Now $.48. is not a lot, but imagine how quickly it adds up after "billions and billions" are served.

Hold up. That's the only tax there is. Maybe their eat-in tax is another word for regular tax. It is about a 5.06% tax. Hmmmm. This may require some more investigating into McDonald's.

Poker

Every six months or so, I find myself dropping 50 or 60 bucks into the world of online poker, perhaps just to feed the gambling monster that lies somewhere within me. I usually stretch it out for at least a week or so, but I always seem to bottom out eventually. Right now I'm down to $16.

I'm not much of a gambler; I can't be. I'd say I'm more of a dreamer. Dream of hitting it big with every hand. I become so involved with every up and down that I think I would lose my sanity if I gambled a lot. But that's okay... it's the ups and downs that make it fun. I just have to keep it in moderation.

I never read it, but in my list of favorites is this guy, a self-aware gambling addict. It serves as a bit of reminder why I only play poker every six months or so.

With discipline, it is possible to be successful at poker, but that's not for me. Gaming should be all about having fun, but man with only 16 bucks left, it's hard not to think about it being almost over, and start dreaming about hitting it big in six months.

Applefest

Applefest was this past weekend. For a very small art show designed to support a giant apple orchard, Tiff's second weekend went well. Same as last week, it was incredibly encouraging despite another wet morning.

This art and tradeshow business, and perhaps many others, are so dependent on, among other things, the weather. Come to think of it, pretty much everything is ultimately affected by the weather, from gas prices to food and water supplies. This would probably be a good time to bring up Hurricane Katrina, given the Superdome reopening and all, but instead, I'll I'll mention one of the more damn interesting-er things I've read.

People, very smart people, want to build giant high-rise buildings in inner-cities dedicated to growing all sorts of fruits and vegetables... and even raise animals. Vertical farming could be this great and wonderful way to save the world from killing itself from overpopulation. What I find interesting is how detailed and far along the idea appears to be. Plus the fact that it's virtually self-sustaining eliminates the impact of the weather, which now that I think about it, is a little freaky, in an end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it kind of way. Something about a food factory just seems dark and dreary with too many iron beams... like Communist Russia.

I would say that the apples outside where they should be... nurtured and hand-selected from the Stribling Orchard are ten times better than any indoor grown apple, but I've never tried the latter, which I feel fine about.

Instead of apples, we got apple cider. I love apple cider. I had forgotten how much I love apple cider. I think I'll go pour myself a glass right now.

Soda Update

Last week I drank a soda. I've actually had a few these past few days. I went without soda for 46 days. I had to look at a calendar. 46 days though, that's a long time. It may even qualify as a religious experience, nothing short of roaming the desert or parting a sea.

By the way, Mormons knocked on my door again. They love to knock. I answered in the mddle of a game of NCAA Football '05. Last time they came, Vince Vaughn was getting a hand job under the table in Wedding Crashers. Relentless little guys, I'm convinced they are hatching a plan to save my very soul as we speak. One of the guys had captivating eyes. At first it was kind of neat, but then his eyes started reminding me of that freaky stare of Rasputin, who survived something like seven assassination attempts before dying... which made me wonder how many tries it would take to assassinate this guy.

Not that I wanted to kill him, or anything, especially after my recent religous experience. I will admit at times the 46 days was surprising difficult. One day, early on, I broke down at a Denny's and bought a Fanta, which most might consider a soda, but I'm hoping that enough people realize how God-awful it is, and therefore disclain it as a soda; it's merely a soft drink. After that, 46 days went by pretty quick.

In the end, while I didn't really want any sodas, or soft drinks, I started wondering what it was that I was trying to do. What was I trying to prove? Surely though, 46 days prove it.

Haircut

So I'm not the old guy in the previous post. I'm there... in the way back to the left. This is me.

Or at least a couple of weeks ago. Good God I needed a haircut! Good God! And what's up with the face... I think someone told me to bite down.

So I went and got a haircut. Some crazy cool Asian guy cut my hair. As I entered the barbershop, it being empty of customers, the two barbers were reading a newspaper in the mysterious language of chinese letters and symbols. There's probably a name for that alphabet, some word that I should know. But the guy sat me down, and three broken english words later, started cutting my hair. I don't believe either spoke much English as not a word was spoken thereafter. There's nothing wrong with that, but I thought it funny that their nametags read "Jeff" and "James."

I've had people cut my hair in five minutes, which I'm fine with as long as it looks good. This guy spent forty silent minutes circling my head, my hair getting shorter and shorter by fractions of an inch with each revolution. At one point I thought maybe I was suppose to stop him when I liked it... that he'd keep going until there was nothing left to cut. But he stopped eventually, my hair being shorter than I think it has been in six years. Check me out.

Oooo... Tiff finagled a little before and after action. These are pictures a la my first haircut ever pictures - minus the tears and the green bench/brickwall backdrop. My Mom will appreciate it. And the haircut.

Anyways, after the forty minute haircut, Jeff spent five minutes massaging my shoulders. It caught me off guard, but man-o-man did it feel good. I was wondering if I would pay extra for it, or the long haircut... if maybe instead of a classic barbershop, I had walked into some asian salon. I started looking around for a Mrs. Jeff dressed in traditional Japenese opera garb carrying tea or saki in some sort of bamboo tray. But alas, there was no such lady, and the final bill was just 12 dollars. And the Bull Run Barbershop earned another customer.

Hume Day

Tiff had her first art show last weekend. She sells photography and greeting cards. It went very well for a first show, hampered a bit by rain. There was a lot of encouraging feedback, and we are both excited to keep going with it. Next stop... Markham, VA's AppleFest.

This picture makes Tiff look very young and me look very old.

Note the beautiful and ingenious use of black wire crates. I can't take credit for the idea, but the tower is all mine. I've got big plans for using them in future shows.

Fashionably Fashionable

Opposite curiosity in the dictionary, is the word cummerbund. I always thought it was cumberbund, like it made it cumbersome to breathe, like a male corset. But it's not. It's cummerbund, almost with a forced lisp. No wonder fashion has a shortage of straight men.

Tiff and I have gotten into Project Runway. It began through Netflix, but as I mentioned we recently got cable. Cable is a devil of a device, especially OnDemand. We opted for a crazy deal on a big package, rather than the basic, unspoken, package that gives you ten channels. It was a few extra dollars a month, but we decided getting the Bravo channel, home of Project Runway, made it worth it. After getting cable, all the channels always play the same things over and over. Bravo is perhaps the worst of the bunch, always playing Project Runway. Always. There's a marathon every afternoon. Between that and their other hit, Queer Eye, it seems Bravo has a shortage of straight men.

Or maybe every other channel has a shortage of gay men.

Anyways, it's a great show. It makes me realize that I have no sense of fashion, but I work nights, occassionally with bleach, so who cares. It also makes me wonder what sort of craziness I would dress people up in if I were a designer. I'm thinking the time is right for the casual cummerbund. I'll start out with the piano cummerbund.

I Could Do Hindu...

I'll follow the theme of the last few posts: So I'm in the middle of Life of Pi - who knew I was such a reader. It's an odd little story that has been slow going partly because I've been all-sorts-of sick this week and partly because curiosity keeps getting the better of me. (I just stopped to look up the word curiosity; I'm pretty sure I know how to spell the word ironic.) I've stopped a couple of times to learn about Hinduism.

I'll sum up my take on Hinduism by saying it has a lot of great ideas, but loses points for all the big words. I remember a brother-in-law once saying that he'd probably be Hindu if it weren't for all the gods, but not me, I'm okay with all the gods. I'm okay with the Brahman, the karma, the dharma... but once you bring in words like mahabharata and upanishad, what you are trying to say quickly takes a back seat to enjoying the struggle of pronouncing the words.

The book is getting interesting though... I'm trying to figure out what happened to the cat.

My Superpowers are Tingling

My superpowers are increasing. It probably is related to my zen-like low-stress stance on most everything except tire pressure - which freaks me out - but I'm becoming more and more attuned to the world around me.

On Sunday, for instance, I got as this week's briefcase to work, The Lovely Bones, which I knew nothing about but had heard good things. It's a pretty good book, where in the first few lines the narrator is abducted and killed. And then yesterday, as I was going to the mechanic to check my tire pressure, "Elliot in the Morning," the best radio personality out there, does this long bit about Johnny Gosch, a kid abducted in 1982 who was the first kid on a milk carton. It's a crazy story involving some great conspiracy theories, including Republican sex parties and Jeff Gannon is Johnny Gosch's witness protection name. Elliot generally steers clear of anything controversial, but got to talking about it because the mother received photos of her son as a boy last week, turning them over to police on... Sunday. CNN broke the story.

I don't get CNN as I don't have cable, which leads me to the second case of my superpowers. It happened yesterday afternoon, right after I woke up. My girlfriend and I were talking about ordering cable, a luxury we haven't had in 2 and a half years of bunny-year-rotation-frustration living together. We actually called a few days ago to order it only to be put on hold for forty minutes; we hung up and watched a movie. As I was resenting the idea of being put on hold again, someone knocked on our door. She was selling cable. In 2 and a half years we have not seen a single door-to-door salesman, and she was selling cable. She'll install it this afternoon.

Now I can watch CNN when I hear the Jeff Gannon has come down with the bird flu. Or more importantly I can switch from ABC to NBC without swearing at a rain cloud. Maybe this will add to my zen-like low stress, increasing my superpowers. If nothing else I can just watch a lot of TV.

Giving to Charity

This weekend I gave a fortune to charity.

Every now and then at stoplights, there will be some crazy old guy with a fez hat on walking slowly from car to car with a large tin can in hand. I don't think they have to ask any more, people just give them money. They must be making a fortune, but I'm not too sure what the Shriners do with all that money. My guess is they blow it all on Cristal and cavier... the shriners be pimpin' all over the world.

With the exception of homeless signposts, the curbside collector is almost always these pastey old while guys with tassels on their head, so imagine my surprise when stopped at a light, I see a young, hatless, thirty-something, walking car to car with a giant rubber boot in hand. Instinctively, I started rolling up the window... for me this is the ultimate show of passive aggression. It not only is a polite signal that I will not be donating my money, it also affords me to freely say and think what I truly think of them. "Leave me alone, you walking traffic cone!" In my passive aggressive mind, I'd be shaking my fist emphatically.

My girlfriend, however, as I've said before, is full of surprises. She reached for her purse and began to search through it. With no bills in sight, she dumped, I'm going to say about, 40 cents of pennies and nickles into my hand. My mind automatically jumped to my change jar and my future llama - in my hand I held a virtual fortune. Before I could protest, however, her hand dove into the center console and returned with a fistful of change, doubling my stack. As Tiff picked out the non-change - life-saver, bottlecap, pen top - the top of a giant rubber boot appeared out my window full to the brim with dollars, lots and lots of dollars. I dutifully deposited my handful of loose change. "Every bit helps," the man's voice projected into my ear, as my heart sank with every muted clank of coin falling in his giant rubber boot. It will take months for me to collect that much change.

But wait. What else fell? Something had caught my eye. I turned to Tiff, she said, "I left a fortune for them" - we've had many a chinese fortune cookie in our days. "We gave a fortune to charity," she said getting her own joke.

***Like all good charity stories end: Please visit www.mda.org to learn more... I think that's what they were collecting for...

Oh Dear

I lost my point in that last post; let's start with the same line: So again, I haven't written anything for awhile now. This could become a bad habit. ... see but that's just not true anymore, I just wrote that other one.

I've spent all my writing time as reading time. That reminds me, I used to work with a fifth-grader. I followed her around school for two months. For two months, I was a fifth-grader, quietly attending class. At the end of each day, they had a school-wide quiet time, known as D.E.A.R., Drop Everything and Read. This pertained to students and teachers alike. Parents not participating were scolded by office workers, who all had their noses in their books, unwilling to assist them pick up their child early. The principal had a big rocking chair in the entryway that she always used. I spent the time writing. I'm such a rebel. Usually, I wrote about the equal importance, in my mind, of writing, not just reading... that as a child I did not enjoy reading until I discovered that I enjoyed writing. But sadly D.E.A.W. just doesn't have the same ring to it as D.E.A.R, thus my bubble bursted.

Again I'm off track. I'm reading a memoir. The Tender Bar. Strange enough, I actually bought it... at a grocery store no less. It was the only thing I bought. It's a pretty good book. It has, however, led me to a few conclusions. Most importantly, I was coddled as a child. Oh sure, I could point to this or that and say 'Oh Poor Me,' but the bottom line is that my childhood involved no great ordeals, no great singular character building struggle that shapes who I am. 'Oh no... I didn't get DuckTales for Nintendo one year for Christmas, Poor Me.' I'm not saying that I would redo my life, looking for trouble, but what stories do I have, where's the drama? Where's the heartbreak? Where's the climax? ... I'm still trying to figure that out in the book - the last few pages I'm holding out on... Where's my memoir?

I mainly just think it would be cool to be in a barfight.

I've also realized further by this book that some people re destined for some things. For me, it may be greatness, but whatever it is, it won't land in your lap unexpectedly. If luck favors the prepared, than destiny favors the determined. A great part of the book, one of many that struck me:

...I told him I was giving up.
"That would be a mistake," he said.
"Why?"
I gave him an opening to to say I had talent. He didn't. He said
simply, "because giving up is always a mistake."

I find the book oddly inspiring. Odd because if some people are truly destined for something, then why did I buy a book I had never heard of. I'm not even sure why I was in the grocery store. But part of me wants to drop everything and read, while part of me wants to drop everything and write. A big part of me, however, just wants to drop everything and play NCAA Football '05.

Oh Yes

Again I haven't written anything for awhile now. This could become a bad habit.

I have had thoughts of what to write about. Oh yes, great thoughts of small events intertwining beautifully with meaningless facts, proving my incredibly high level of being. Oh yes, if the world includes reincarnation, I am surely nearing nirvana. Oh yes.

To catch you up to speed, wikipedia has an insanely long entry on Springfield, home of the Simpsons. As a fan, it is pretty fun to read through... even though I only recognized every other reference or so. The last half of the entry, trying to locate Springfield, is a bit much, showing that wikipedia, in all it's greatness, is written primarily by dorks with too much time on their hands.

Something else of note, I listen to iTunes a lot nowadays; it makes a nice background for a good game of Scrabble. It's also nice because it collects all the songs that my girlfriend and I download off myspace.com, a site which with all it's negative press, still has many great aspects... like spying. Anyways, iTunes classifies a Beck song we got as 'Christian gangsta rap'. This is the first time I've ever seen, or even considered using the... is 'Christian' an adjective? ... using 'Christian' to describe gangsta rap. I always assumed 'gangsta rap' carried its own description.

Surprise, Surprise

So I've been trying to come up with something to say about this past weekend:

Talking to a coworker today, someone with whom I've worked with for a year and a half now, I learned that in the late '60's he played football for the Dallas Cowboys. It's crazy how much I just don't know about people. Everyone's always surprising me.

After three and a half years, my girlfriend still surprises me. Who knew she loves Aggravation, the mindlessly, frustratingly fun marble game, and that she kicks ass at Scrabble, a new part of our daily schedule that has an increasingly lopsided record... I'd say I'm batting around .300.

Sometimes I even surprise myself. This past weekend, for instance, I went with Tiff to church. I've gone with her a few times in the past, but admittedly, I was always trying to win points with her family and was promised a home-cooked feast of a meal. This weekend my motives were no different, and instead of a Sunday morning passing by, there were two days of 'Praise Jesus'ing. It was the annual ketochtin, a big celebration of sorts... I'm not sure what they are celebrating... with preachers coming from across the country converging in a middle-school auditorium in Warrenton, VA.

By the end of it, I heard my share of crazy stuff from the preacher's pulpit. The Sistine Chapel is apparently blasphemous. I think this preacher believes yelling to be more effective, perhaps more divine. Let's see, Sally Jesse Raphael struggles to understand that Jews for Jesus simply have Jesus in their hearts. There was a lot about predestination, which growing up Catholic, was interesting at first, but by the time the fourth preacher started to tackle the subject, I had told myself that I'm not too sure I agree. Maybe, by the end of it, I just started to wonder whether or not I was part of the specially chosen 'elect.' Dammit if I'm not.

But then the food. There's so much good food. And there's all these old ladies, all dressed up with shoulderpads and bright colors cooing over each other's dishes, particularly the desserts, while their husbands shake hands and talk... there is a definite lack of young people. And everybody eats. Everybody gets seconds, most get thirds, a few... well, I got fourths. I was so surprised, in a way, by all the old people and how they were all so happy. And they all seemed so happy to see Tiff and me... young people. They were all just really nice... well, I stayed clear of the preachers though.

Anyways, in the end, I'm not a convert, but I do respect it. Plus, I wouldn't mind seeing some of those old guys more often. This one guy Louis... he was awesome, like a different breed of person.

Let me end though with this, after a lengthy, and enthralling, story from my coworker about getting hurt and quitting football, I had to ask what Dallas's legendary coach Tom Landry was like. "A great man," he said walking towards the exit, his shift being over. "He used to say, 'It's important to believe, it's important to worship. It doesn't matter who or what your god is, as long as you believe in something.'" I don't know much about the guy, but it's surprising that that's the line said from a guy of his coach, one of the greatest football coaches of all time.

That's all I got... hopefully you can see what I was trying to do there. Maybe.

It's in the Game

A while ago I discovered the 'buy used' option at Amazon.com. Last Friday, I bought a used video game across the street at EB Games. NCAA Football '05, it's a lot of fun. I've built my own college football team. Go UDuff!! It was $4, that's four dollars. Today Madden '07 goes on sale for $60, that's sixty dollars. Last Friday, you could pay $5 to reserve your copy. For those unfamiliar with the world of video football, my NCAA football is the college version to Madden's NFL format. They're made by the same company, EA Games, that makes the Sims2, which Tiff plays, as does Zach Braff.

The Madden series, and NCAA series, are the creme de la creme of video games. They come out with a new and improved version every year. While the gameplay only varies slightly from year to year, I guess the teams change a bit as players in real life get traded or improve or whatnot. As for the graphics, they're already pretty damn good. But all in all the game changes so little that it's hard to discern a difference. I mention all this not just to say, yet again, that I am far superior to common man by saving some $50 dollars, but to add that people are confusing.

Each year this game grows in sales; last year sales topped $100 million dollars in the first week, and $250 million total. When I first heard this last year, I would have commented about the changing face of entertainment; today I just have to say 'what the hell?' In order to reach $250 million dollars, people must be buying a game that they - pretty much - already own. I just don't get it. Although this year's does have a guy named D'Brickashaw Ferguson.

Anyways, like I said, NCAA Football '05 is a lot of fun. I think I like it more than my Madden '05 game. Perhaps I confuse myself... but I'm still saying I'm superior.

Is this our Third Coincidence?

Yesterday, in a meeting at work - I work in a juvenile shelter - we learned about what to do in emergency situations. First off, in the event that I'm taken hostage, I lose all rights as an employee, which I'm not too happy about. I'll tell you right now, if there's a two-week standoff at work where I'm a hostage, I'm clocking it. All that time is going towards a nice vacation.

But then we learned about what to do if one of our clients/residents comes down with avian flu. It's a day later and I honestly couldn't tell you what to do if such an event occurs. I wasn't paying close attention; I was too busy realizing my superhuman powers.

Two days ago, I mentioned bird flu in passing - I had to look it up to make sure the term 'bird flu' was still acceptable because it had been so long since I had heard anything about it. Then twenty four hours later, it appeared in my life, not once, but twice.

Superhuman power, or just strange coincidence? Well, let's just say I'm not afraid to be taken hostage.

UPDATE: So I write most of these, like this one, at night and just type them up when I get the chance. This morning before knowing what I wrote about, Tiff said in conversation, "If that were my superhuman power I'd be pissed." We were talking about the show Due South... the guy knows what people are typing just by listening to them type. Anyways, just another example of my super predicting powers... of the mundane events and comments.

Bird Flu Drug

Strange timing on this. I had to link it. Something about a more effective bird flu drug. Again, I don't find it too interesting. This is the first time I've seen anything about it in months, though and it's the same day I mention it. Weird. I guess there goes my waterfalls and unicorns.

It's a Hot one

So I picked up The Hot Zone at work the other day. I'm a slow a reader so it will take me a few more days to get through it, but it's a crazy book. It's all real accounts about viruses, that when they get you, they really get you.

I was struck by this one part about this guy from the CDC who first photographed and named Ebola, a nasty little virus that kills nine out of ten of its victims. When asked if he ever worries about a world-wide plague, he stated, 'A virus can be useful to a species by thinning it out.'

Now when I read this, my first thought was something like, this guy scares me. He really scares me, given that he works for the Center for Disease Control. Control. He's supposed to be controlling the disease, not thinning us out. But then I got to thinking, what if there was such an event. What if there was an airborne Ebola, perhaps like the Bird Flu, which I'm reluctant to learn about. ...mainly because it just doesn't sound scary. It sounds more like something out of a South Park episode. 'Oh no, Kenny, the birds are sneezing.' Plus, the mental image of that is kinda cute.

But nine out of 10 people gone, that's a lot of people. Or even just one out of three like the bubonic plague in Europe. The CDC guy makes it sound almost like a good thing, (the first third of) the book makes it sound inevitable, but what would it be like? Would life go on as normal? How would it affect everyday life? I mean, would it affect the economy? Would there still be poor people or powerful people or political people? Would there still be crime and manipulation and exploitation and greed? Would there still be stupidity? After it peaked and passed, would there still be hunger, thirst, pain, suffering? Would there still be war, wealth, poverty, or religion?

While the answer is probably a single yes, what if it did create some strange utopia where every one was treated equally and every one was important because every one survived? What if the Georgia Guidestones are right? What if they are a sign from some greater society and we need to 'Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature'? Many smart people say that forest fires are a good thing for forests... what if a disease is our forest fire? No wonder it's called the Hot Zone. And good thing I have health insurance.

This is probably why I'm such a slow reader, I start thinking on a tangent and pretty soon I'm running around naked in some utopian paradise with waterfalls and unicorns. Oh... I would definitely be the tenth person.

Lately

I'm not too sure what I've been up to lately, but I'm going to have to get back on track and start blogging with some regularity... my tip jar's going to keep collecting dust if I continue slacking. he-hemmm... rattle, rattle, rattle.

Today's Potatoes are from Rigby, Idaho.

As I've said before with this whole anti-soda thing I'm on... it's not the first time that I've given up something. Similar to my McDonald's experience, I've said before, 'I will no longer eat at chain restaurants,' which I've come to realize is just a silly thing to say. While it has cut back on how much I eat at the chain restaurants, sometimes I just feel like eatin good in the neighborhood. I only mention it because my motives were, or are, a little different.

I like the idea of not giving into the big guy, supporting the locals and the unique community culture, even if my community is spelled M-A-N-A-S-S-something-something. So along with my girlfriend, I started venturing to some local spots with mixed experiences, including a hairball in Tiff's straw. The pizza places quickly got nixed. A couple of bar/restaurants got the axe for differing reasons; common to most though, I watch a lot of TV, why would I watch TV at a restaurant? Why would I watch 30 TV's, while I listen to the radio. One we stopped going to because we discovered their famous monte cristos could easily be matched at home... and by 'we' I mean Tiffany. And anything foreign draws comparisons to the time we had dove at an El Salvadorean restaurant. ... Give peace a chance... or maybe you are what you eat. I don't know.

But I do know we found two places that we like, and that's about all we ever go to anymore. They're both becoming chains though which leads me to say that my original declaration was a little silly. They're local, but they are both growing. The first is Five Guys Burgers and Fries. I'm convinced one of the guys is named Yahweh, it's hands down the best food ever in all the world, and if you do it right, it's cheaper than McDonald's. And it's all natural... 'Today's Potatoes are from Rigby, Idaho,' they always have a big sign that says where their potatoes grew up, and then their walls are lined with bags of potatoes. Unfortunatly it's not set up like a restaurant, so the atmosphere kind of sucks, but the food... mmm. Anyways, from time to time we go to Foster's, another hamburger place. It has really good food just so long as you've never been to Five Guys, man-o-man, I'm hungry. It's also right next to the train station and in downtown, which is fun.

Like I said though they are both expanding. More power to them. I say that I don't like chains, but I would love it if they continued to grow and were found in all sorts of places. Holy cow, Five Guys is building right near where I grew up! That's a bit of a let down. Oh well, like I said, it was a silly thing to say.

Working for the Weekend

I saw my sister Ann and her kids a week ago now. It was great seeing them. I don't see them enough. It was the last three days of my vacation, and it was the last days of their vacation as well. She made a comment at some point that's been rattling around in my brain. It went something like, ' Yeah, vacations are great, but it's also great getting back to work where, you know, you have responsibilities... and people rely on you...' She has a big important job.

I'm not saying my job isn't important, but I know for a fact that my 'office,' the shelter, would not skip a beat if I went on extended vacation. I know this because staff come and go with the tides, or the stages of the moon, or... you get the idea.

And hey, it's not a bash on the shelter, it's just the way it's set up. It has to be. It has it's reasons. But it does make me wonder if my job is the right job for me. I've been thinking about it for awhile, but now I have new words to play with, like 'do I have important responsibilities? Do people rely on me? Am I happy to be working?' I think I could easily make a strong argument for a resounding yes!; yes, they do!; yes, I am important! yes! But I think it's more about my perception of my job, what my gut is telling me. And my gut's not happy.

My girlfriend says I'm just a discontent individual, which would normally be a strange thing for a girlfriend to be saying. But she says I'm just not happy, and that I'll never be content with my job because I'll never figure out what I truly want. She's so cute when she's analytical.

Here's what I want: I want it to feel good to go to work. I want to be excited to come back from vacation. I want to be part of something grand. I want to lead. ... I want to feel good about my job.

So, anyways, payday just passed and my vacation time is adding up fast, which feels great. Now I just have to figure out where I truly want to go, Mediterranean? New Zealand? Cross Country? Maybe St. Lucia.

Buying and Denying

So this isn't the first time that I've tried giving up something... oh no. I saw Super Size Me. I read Fast Food Nation. That's right, I gave up McDonald's. For awhile at least; well, I had the obligatory last meal. That was one McGriddle I'll never forget. But I didn't eat there for a long time. The thing is though... here's the thing, like soda, sometimes it just tastes good, like there is some piece of your soul that just requires fast food from time to time. They are disgustingly evil though, with their smiling clown of a spokesman.

A Chipotle opened up across the street. Chipotle offers a whole lot of really good food, and it always finds a hole in my soul. However, I recently discovered Chipotle is equally evil. They are owned by the Golden Arches. So I haven't eaten there in awhile.

It all makes sense financially, but I don't understand why the Chipotle people would want to sell out to McDonald's of all places. It seems like they had a good thing going. Why sell it if it's working? It just doesn't make sense to me. Maybe it does, but it seems like the girly way to go about it. That's one more strike against them, girly Chipotle.

I ran into a similar problem in the stock market. I'm not much of an investor, but I finally found something that I really liked, that I hope to see continue and flourish, that I was excited to invest (a few dollars) in... Focus Features. It's a movie studio. In many ways, it would make for a pretty lame investment, but in many others it makes complete sense. I watch a lot of movies and I usually like the ones by Focus Features. So I look into it. Focus Features, it turns out, is owned by NBC, which is a bit of a buzzkill. But I rationalize it, start thinking about buying into NBC, which is much bigger and therefore much less fun, but it turns out that NBC is owned by General Electric, the only company to be listed in the S&P 500 for the entire existence of the S&P 500. That turned me off quicker than a popcorn fart on a dry day.

By the way, since about two months ago when both JDSU and Capstone Technologies tanked, I haven't paid much attention to the stock market. Whatever happened to JDSU being bought out at like 6 dollars a share? Although I'm not sure by whom, maybe it was McDonald's, but I doubt it.

A Growing Butt Hole

My pants are ripping. It sucks, I just got them two months ago... wait, August... three months ago, but still. It sucks. I liked those pants.

A Little White Lie

That last post made me think of something. I told a coworker a couple of weeks ago, right before my magnificent vacation with my beautiful girlfriend, as I was drinking a half-sized can of Shasta cola, that it was the first soda I had had in months, and the caffeine was making my act silly. It was a complete lie. Not only was it a lie, but it was a lie that served no purpose. I just said it to hear myself say it.

It reminds me of my sister. She told this story once about talking to a customer; I hope it's okay if I share. The guy took a pen out to write something down, and my sister, as she tells it, just goes on and on about how his pen reminds her of her favorite pen, her 'lucky pen' as she claimed to have called it and how she lost that lucky pen, and oohhh... it was a good pen. Anyways, she doesn't have a lucky pen. Although she may now, that story was from a long time ago. For all I know though, it never happened... I mean it is a story about lying to someone, maybe she made it all up.

I could see that happening. I daydream a much more exciting life than I actually lead, so sometimes I'll try to pass it off as reality. For instance, one time very early in my relationship with my girlfriend, she sent me to 7-Eleven for candybars - I'll admit the conversation probably went something like this:

Tiff: Hey, can you get me something to drink while you're up.
Me: Okay, twist my arm, I'll go get some candy, maybe some ice cream too.

I eat a lot of ice cream. Anyways, there was a cop at the 7-Eleven and I had a headlight out in my car. So, I imagined this whole scenario where the cop followed me out of the store and then we both got in our cars and he tailed me the whole wayhome, in the end deciding not to pull me over because I'm such a good driver, but now my car was marked by the police and I would have to drive extra carefully from now on. A bit extreme perhaps, but as I drove back the story replayed in my head over and over, becoming more and more real. By the time I returned to my girlfriend, I had all but convinced myself it was true, and, wearing it on my face, I told her that I had been tailed by a cop. She believed me; she was worried for me... for days

On a Friday I told her the truth... "Yeah, that never happened..." I think that time she just laughed and rolled her eyes. Since then I've learned she doesn't quite like that... I'm always learning.

My Soda-less Crusade

I've given up soda. I'm three days into it. All I can say is that I laugh at people who just drink the recommended 8 glasses of water a day; I think I drink at least 3 gallons a day. I'm a bit of an over-achiever. Okay that may be a bit of a stretch, but it's strange how much I find myself drinking. I usually had one, maybe two, sometimes three sodas a day, and now I carry a glass of water with me wherever I go... I'm becoming one of those people.

And 8 glasses a day is a lot of water. You really have to try to drink 8 glasses a day, but I think I got it covered... and then some. In fact, I think I might be peeing 8 glasses a day.

Anyways, it hopefully won't be too terribly tough, but wish me luck.

Four Thumbs Up... or so.

I've seen three movies in the past two days... mindless activities are good after a week of vacation. It kind of numbs you back into the real world.

The first movie I saw, and only one I saw at the movie theater, was M. Night Shamamahamalan's new movie, which was good, really good. It reminded me a bit of the Village though, in that... I don't know if I'm just expecting greatness, but I found myself criticizing as I was watching it, which I hate. But it was really good. And, like all of his movies it was just refreshingly different from all the others. All in all though, it walked a strange line between a scary movie and a fairy tale... two categories that my brain has trouble blurring the lines between.

So then we get home and Netflix has two new movies for me. The first one I watched was Firewall, with Harrison Ford, which sucked. Maybe it was just that I should have been sleeping before work, but it sucked on every level. The thing that I found distracting, throughout the whole thing, was that the bad guy was just a bad guy. People should have some saving grace, some reason for me to care about them, something that makes them human. I don't buy into the whole idea that real people are evil. They should only exist in fairy tales.

But then today I saw a movie about an assassin, and it was marvelous. The Matador was just fun to watch. I liked the story, I liked the characters, and something that I notice a lot in movies that I like... I liked the colors. It makes me sound a stoner, I realize, but this was a movie with yellow walls, orange suits, white fabrics in dirty scenes... I love that stuff.

I guess I'm weird like that. It reminds me of a girl I met in college, Tara, who was really cool. After a few hours, maybe a few days, she was laughing at me, telling me I see the world differently than everybody else. She said I notice how things feel, textures and whatnot. Maybe it's just that I have a strong feminine side. I mean hell, Lady in the Water made me cry.

Sealy Posturepedic Almost Ruined My Life

Driving.

The freedom of the roads, wind rushing through your hair, racing down the highway, what can be more American? The story I'm about to share takes place late on a Thursday night. I was driving I-64 through the Virginia countryside, without anybody around. Oh there may have been a few headlights in the distance, maybe a few tail lights too, but I was zooming along without much worry. Then I started catching up to this one set of tail lights that was going strangely slow. Then brakelights came on, so I figuratively scratched my head and kept driving, starting to think about changing lanes but as I was catching up, about 50 yards back, the brake lights started to slow the car down and they dove to the shoulder. I thought, hmmm, but then I thought, what the! as I was staring down a giant bed mattress tumbling towards me down the road.

Without thinking, the steering wheel, with my two hands attached to it, pulled left, the car followed, the steering wheel then pulled right, the car pointed that way, then the rear of the car started swinging and in blind fear, the steering wheel threw itself back and forth a bit and we were back on the road, now in the fast lane.

Up aways, we passed a pick-up truck with U-Haul in tow off to the side of the highway. The driver was standing back looking somewhat concerned at his cargo.

I feel like I could have died. My life flashed before my eyes. Man, I've had a lot of ice cream in my days. Thankfully, the rest of the drive went swimmingly, as mom would say.

There's a Revolution Afoot.

You can't beat the great game of skee ball.

Well, maybe if it were by the beach.

And maybe if it were free.

And gave out double tickets.

Maybe if the tickets, weren't actually tickets but instead cold, crisp dollar bills.

And the dollars were actually Euros, which are worth more than regular dollars.

But that would be a pain going to convert them, unless you were in Europe.

Europe has conversion places all over.

Maybe the Euros could be converted into shares of Berkshire Hathaway.

Or better yet, the next Berkshire Hathaway.

Or even better yet, happiness.

But money can't buy happiness.

So I don't play much skee ball anymore.

Nowadays I play the Dance Dance Revolution.

It's the new skee ball.

The OBX

So yes, I'm back from the beach. I was lucky enough to get some time off work and go to the beach, the Outerbanks, NC.

Let me start off by saying that I'm not much of a souvenir type person. I don't have any real souvenirs. I remember a wooden bracelet that I got Tiff at the Bahamas that was presented to us as a gift... I was so confused when he started asking for money. There are a couple hideously stand-out-in-a-crowd T-shirts from Maine that I wear, or wore, but the one I wear the most was a gift. Maybe I just like gifts. There was a T-shirt from Maine that had a lobsterman, dressed in yellow holding a big red lobster that I wore all the time as a kid... I wore it on my first day of school, ever. I got it instead of an ice cream at Boothbay that day.

Anyways, enough about me... on to the Outerbanks. I'm not sure what it is about the Outerbanks, but it seems like you can find fans, proudly displaying their vacation-destination loyalty, wherever you go. That's right, OBX has become an oddly ubiquitous sign of where you are on the social ladder. It seems like without an OBX window sticker, or a dainty OBX bumper sticker, or emblazon on a sweater, cap, or at the very least, key chain, you're just not at the same level of haughty-taughty-ness. An OBX sticker, 'ooohhh-aaaahhh.'

It's true the OBX makes for great vacations, and great fun, great food, great times, great memories, ... maybe the OBX is just a symbol of greatness... similar to the Empire State Building and the Pyramids of Giza, but easier because it comes in sticker form... but I easily will resist ever sporting the OBX symbol. Maybe I'm just not that great after all.

Back from the Beach

The beach is great. I would hesitate to call myself a beach person - I can't swim, I drown easily; I don't tan, I burn easily, and as for playing in the sand... the sand is hot, I get hot easily - but I love it. I could hop in the waves all day long, waiting for the perfect wave to swim with and ride to shore... and then get tossed around by and thrown into the shallow beaches elbows first. That's what I like doing at least. I like going to the beach.

Some people like going to the beach, too. They like the beach air. They like the beach sun. But then, within feet of the actual beach, they would rather go to the pool. They wouldn't want to get sandy, or salty, or have to battle the wind. Or see everyone having fun.

I will never understand these people, or their websites.

Beach Vacation

I am headed to the beach today with Tiff. I will be back later.

Picture Page

The last roll of film I developed was great.

It seems like every picture was a keeper; beautiful shots that captured the moment, every moment that surrounded the moment. The roll before that was great, too. It probably has five or six of my favorite pictures of all time on it, at least two of which are blown up and hanging on my wall.

The last roll of film I developed was three years ago.

Since then I've taken pictures. Oh yes, I've taken lots of pictures, but it seems like most fit into two categories that could be titled, "Just Goofin' Around with the Camera,"

and "Non-Photographer John's Attempts on Photography..."

which has some pictures I like, but... there are always five or six pictures that look more or less exactly the same, each improving slightly on the previous one, so it just feels like it takes away some of the achievement of having a great picture. Plus I just don't know how to take good pictures.

I would, however, like to buy a new camera, primarily because our current one is a digital dinosaur, Tricameratops... ? ... Tycamerasaurus Flash... while it seems silly to going back to paying five or six bucks just to see if you took any good pictures, it seems just as silly to take five or six pictures just to find the right shot.

Anyways, Tiff's Aunt Carrell is a great photographer, especially of things that I wouldn't think to stop and take pictures of.

And finally, without those two categories, there would probably be five or six pictures in the album other than Christmas, Birthday, Vacation, Christmas...

Choose Your Words

Last week our fearless leader swore.

What [Israel] need[s] to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit and it's over.

Some may take this with a sigh of relief, that our President is real, that he talks like real people, that he's not afraid to speak his mind. I however have some reservations, perhaps revealing my political leanings, though I have trouble seeing this as anything but being strongly conservative.

Let me jump to one of my favorite movies, About A Boy. There's something about it that I truly enjoy. There's one part where the guy the kid essentially if he is upset, which they both know he is because his mother attempted suicide. The kid says yeah a little bit, and Hugh Grant just says "fuck."

The point is, yes there is a time for curse words, and the Middle East right now probably defines how and gives reason for a whole slew of other choice words. But the President? In that context?

As someone who works with teenagers who want to be criminals and gangsters, I hear these words a lot, occasionally directed at me, and I've said more times than I wish to think "choose your words." (A reference to parents telling three-year-olds to "use your words.") What I have noticed though is that often the kids I see do not know how to express themselves without their curse words, and if they try, they stumble, stutter, and quickly choose silence. Bush is surely not the first president to get caught swearing, nor will he be the last, but by him using such words it further gives legitimacy to them. This should not be applauded or thought appropriate or commonplace.

As far as the statement, politically, I regret to say that I have no opinion, that I don't know, that I choose silence.

The Rumor Mill

Lately I feel as though I have been an important cog in some rumors at work. Work is a giant pit of swarming rumors from all directions. While I have not, to my knowledge, helped create any rumors, I definitely have passed them along. The thing is, I love rumors... I love hearing them, sharing them, knowing them... maybe it just makes me feel like I belong. Lately, I've started feeling bad for my part in rumors, so I'm attempting to swear off of them.

Plus I have a tendency to push responsibility on others when I'm not at fault but feel that I am, and take responsibility when I'm not at fault. I'm not sure what I do when I know I'm at fault, but I'm guessing it's not pretty. Bottom line is, suddenly I'm picking up on some major character flaws that I want to change. Easier said than done though. Wish me luck.

I also want to be the stand-up guy who isn't afraid to stand up for what is right, and stand up for other people. I think that would be good. I'm in a thoughtful mood right now.

Buying Used

So Amazon has given it's customers the option to buy products used for quite awhile now. I remember a few years ago my brother-in-law putting Sting's autobiography up for sale the day after Christmas... I'm not sure how much he sold it for, but you can now get it for 33 cents used.

I recently spent a total of 24 dollars on three CD's, this one I'm still waiting on, with just about half of that total being shipping costs. All of them are, as far as I can tell, perfect condition. So that's eight dollars a CD; it makes me wonder how, first off, the musicians, or authors are making money, but more importantly, how a place like Tower can survive charging 16 bucks for the same CD.

It seems times like times, they are a-changin'.

Peachy

I'm experimenting with peach pits.

My ultimate goal is a bonsai'ed peachtree, partially in honor of my hometown, near Atlanta, Georgia, the Peach State, where the streets are either Peachtree something-or-other or MLK something-or-other (and I'm not up to bonsai'ing Noble prize winners just yet). The larger reason is, well... why not? It sounds like fun, and Tiff just got a bunch of peaches so it makes sense. Here's the potted plant, or well, pit:

It's not suppose to grow until after the last hard freeze, so it may look like this for awhile, but I'll try to have frequent updates.

Peaches, by the way, are pretty tasty... and fuzzily friendly too! That's a far cry from the disgusting lifesaver-flavor peach.

New Feature

So I got a tip jar on my sidebar the other day. Isn't she a beaut? I now join the ranks of street peddlars and subway troubadours, rattling loose change in my PayPal button. I wish I could put a picture of a tin can there instead and have it rattle around when you scroll over it, or a guitar case that opens up. As it is, I could only choose from a PayPal button and and a button that says "MAKE A DONATION," which I liked but I don't have anything to donate to... it's more like the John Duffy wants more money fund.

Anyways, I don't expect any money... hell, I don't expect to be read, heard, or enjoyed... but hopefully this will encourage the quality writing, in short two paragragh spurts, that I've been swinging blindly at.

The next step in selling out: advertising. That's right! Adsense, baby, Adsense. That's for another day though.

Moisturize Your Meatloaf

Ice cubes in meatloaf may sound silly to most cooks (and eaters) out there, but reliable sources told me it was a good idea. I was led to believe that it would add moisture to your meatloaf, thus making it succulent and delicious. After trying this, I will agree that it added moisture, lots of it. It also made four large craters where the ice cubes were placed, all of which held standing water. Standing water in my cooking meatloaf is something that I had never experienced before and neither is draining my meatloaf, which I did by tilting it on it's side. But the craters quickly refilled, even after several drains, so I turned to a sure-fire solution that I'll admit I use frequently - I called Mom. I usually only do this when my girlfriend has thrown her hands up in disbelief, rolling her eyes and calling me names, and thankfully, yet another call home proved successful. My Mom, through much laughter, assured me that it should taste fine and if not, to "enjoy your cream of meatloaf." And I did, it was delicious, albeit no more moist than normal.

Oh, my reliable sources... hmmm... I think I heard it on a sports show to put an ice cube in hamburgers... hmmm... I'll say it's about a fifty-fifty chance that I did not make it up. I like those odds.

Pop Culture

This weekend, I house sat for someone who, like everyone else, has cable TV, something that I've been without for two and a half years now. Oh, it's not for lack of want that I don't have cable, with it's 200 magical channels of crystal clear perfection, it's just, well, something I haven't quite gotten around to.

But after this weekend I'm almost relieved that I do not have this access... this power to see every angle of... whatever. Of the things I watched, there were way too many episodes of Cheyenne, a reality show on MTV about a fifteen year old who is trying to break into the music industry. These shows just suck you in and leave you in a comatose trance; and with the marathon format, you're left trying to leave every half hour but you just can't because... well, they tell you what's going to happen in the next thirty minutes. It's very backwards, but come this Tuesday at 9:30 or whenever, I'm going to be missing out on Cheyenne singing onstage with Sheryl Crow!.. and the drama of nerves and anxiety! How can I miss that?

Another show I saw, and saw and saw, was a late night marathon called Pants Off Dance Off, where they play videos and someone, usually ugly, strips there clothes off down to their underwear. Very strange but, again, oddly captivating. I watched it hoping there would be someone mildly attractive. Then I went to bed some 90 minutes later, depressed.

I did see Disney's Hercules, which I liked. I never really liked it before but it got me wanting to stop watching TV. Mainly wanting to make pots. Actually paint pots. And it got me thinking about life in general... but I'll leave that for another post.

Lastly, I got to see the Braves game on Friday night... a four hour nightmare of a game with a happy ending, so I can't say the cable TV is all evil. But with everybody watching TV with all the commercials, all the shows, and all the people on all the shows and commercials all the same, and all very uninteresting, it's a wonder there's anything interesting left in the world nowadays... that we haven't all started sounding, looking, and thinking alike, or have we?

I'm not sure if that makes sense but I'm going to go ahead and be done with this post.

Last Night

Right now, I work the overnights at a juvenile shelter, making sure everyone is asleep, so I'm afforded quite a bit of free time. So I picked up a book lying around and started reading it the other day. The Pictures of Hollis Woods, I believe that's the title. It's written for young adults, I'd say zeroing in on the 12-15 range. I mention it because it was a pretty good book. By the end I was riding the emotional rollercoaster of the characters.

About an hour later, I was looking for something to do when I found Killer Angels, which I've been wanting to read... I liked that same author's book about the Revoutionary War, Rise to Rebellion... but I'll tell you, after reading a book written for sixth graders, I was struggling just with the first few pages. I'm sure the fact that it was 5 in the morning had nothing to do with it, but I may have to slowly work back up to big word books... when does the next Harry Potter come out?

I am excited about Killer Angels though. I know it's all about Gettysburg, but I live in Manassas, VA and know practically nothing about the Civil War, so I'm hoping for a little Civil War 101. Although, I'll admit that of all the cool stuff about history, I have very little interest in the Civil War... wars in general in fact.

I'm down with hippies... make love not war.

County Surplus

Today I went with my girlfriend to a county surplus sale. It's a monthly thing here in Prince William County, but I just learned about it. They had some scary looking funiture, but I've never seen computers listed for 80 bucks before... nice computers too! They were Dell's! They were black... a sure sign that they are not older than a few years. I came close to getting one even though I don't need one... the guy then tried the 2-for-1 sales pitch. How could I resist that? 80 bucks for TWO computers!!

But then I got to thinking... if I don't need one computer...

Girlfriend

My girlfriend's blog is linked on the side there... it's all about her pet project/full-time job which has taken over giant swaths of floor space of my apartment and comes in the form of a website, SevenSparks, also linked at the side. Everyone should check it out, and check it out often; it is the product of a perfectionist so it is an ever-evolving, ever-improving websites. Plus the cards and pictures are beautiful. I think she's on the doorstep of fame and fortune.

I'm going to figure out how pictures work at some point, not right now though.

Interesting

There's two ways to say this word. I unknowingly say it like Jimmy Stewart - four syllables, no T. Isn't that inneresting? However, interest is only two syllables.

One year later

Alright, alright, alright...

So I'm going to try and breathe life into this thing one last time. Inspired by my girlfriend, who just started her own blog (again) I think the time is right for a revival. A reunion tour if you will. And this time around, hopefully I'll stick with it.

My job has progressed to allow me some free time (shhh...) so again I should have some opportunity to put my thoughts together, and search the internet... I have become a loyal reader of DamnInteresting.com. I don't plan on being that interesting, but maybe with a little luck, who knows?

So real quick, the blog didn't survive last year... the notebook is floating around lost somewhere gathering dust... and everything I've written in the past year has started with "whatever happened to...." So here's to writing, about anything, anything at all. Me, my girlfriend, politics, music, life, the world, Abe Vagoda... it's all fair game. Wish me luck.

Round 2

I don't have anything to write about but I feel like writing. I thought I would write a post to start this up, again. I doubt I'll ever be a regular blogger but it is fun, so I want the option to write when I want to. I've probably waited long enough for everyone who was reading this to stop reading this, which means I can write about anything from the retirement of Supreme Court justices to the pain in my mouth. I think I might hve a cavity. I should go check that out. First, I should wait til my job gives me benefits.

Benefits would be nice. You know if I could get paid for doing this - for writing about God knows what - even if it was just something small like a few bucks a week or something or even like the chance to win money, I would probably be more inclined to write frequently. The other day, I heard that you can put a tip jar onto your blog through PayPal. I think it costs money... I'll have to check it out.