Fun in Bed

It's fall and Tiff and I are back to doing art shows on weekends. This past weekend we went to tiny Edinburg, VA for a full blown fall festival. This small town knows how to throw a party. As a vendor, there were some serious flaws, most notably we were near the end of a long string of tents and I believe I-81 was closer to us than the center of town. We were so far down that the parade that went through town didn't even make it to us.

We did however have a good spot as far as the activities go. Thankfully we were close enough to hear one of three concert sites, so we got to listen to old time music... I mean like Oh, Brother Where Art Thou old time music. It was great. We got to watch all the hot rods and dressed up antique cars drive by honking their antique horns, including General Lee from the Dukes of Hazzard. De-nuh-dun-dun-dunun-dunun-dun-dun-de-dun. And then we got to see tractors roll in the other day for the antique tractor show. But that was nothing compared to what happened at the end of the weekend.

Right after I put two dollars down on what I thought would be the winning duck in the annual duck races, a man started talking over a PA system, saying "it's almost time, clear the road, clear the road." And as people were scurrying to either side of the road, pushing for a good spot, the police rolled in a speed checker and sat it at the bottom of the hill. And with one more "clear the roads or you could get hit" they announced the start of the Bed Races.

That's right, beds with wheels racing down the street. Here's a picture of your winner, who reached speeds of a blazing 25 mph.

It may have been the goofiest thing I have ever seen... and pretty dangerous - this year only one bed rolled over on a guy, who walked away unharmed, but I can't help imagining myself racing down the streets of Edinburg, wind in my hair, tucked in tight, praying that I don't fall over, just having some fun in bed.

And the Winner Is...

(the final installment of the two part squirrel saga) part 1

A few months back, I set a humane trap for the squirrel, Dexter, that lives on my balcony. As you may know, Dexter has done some serious damage to my flower pots, bird feeders, christmas lights, and EVERYTHING else that was on my balcony. I had to bring everything inside so it would not be destroyed. All that remained out there were some ceramic pots (he can't possibly chew through those), a table (no chairs because he can chew through those), and a pile of things in the corner (that I don't care if he chews through and have no room for inside). After this major clean up, I didn't see the squirrel for months. The trap was out there, food was in it, and no squirrel was in sight. I thought I had settled the score and triumphantly declared myself the winner.

Tiffany: Wins/ Dexter: Loses

Fast Forward 3 months.
Last week, the cat was acting weirder than usual. I went to the window and saw the squirrel trying to fight my cat through the glass door. I'm not kidding, fists were raised. It was a little scary. Dexter eventually got bored with the cat and retreated into the pile of stuff in the corner where there was an old chair cushion that I guessed Dexter had been using to keep cozy on chilly nights.

Tiffany: 0/ Dexter: 1

The next day I bought a big jar of peanuts. I put some in the trap, thinking "AHA! I've got you now, Squirrel!" I waited. And waited. I left the window for 5 minutes to get a glass of water. When I returned... the peanuts were gone. And no squirrel was in sight or in the trap.

Tiffany: 0/ Dexter: 2

Now, I realized with the score looking like that, I should step up my game. Turn up the heat. Show this squirrel what he's dealing with. So a few days later I watched as Dexter took off down the building to find some food. I put on my gloves and got a trash bag and went outside to dismantle the pile in the corner and even up the score.

I went straight for the old cushion, which Dexter had chewed into thousands of pieces. I picked it up and thought... "hmm that's heavy for a half-eaten cushion"... and then it started to move. Babies. Baby squirrels. So I went inside and got my camera and took some cute little baby squirrel pictures.

UNTIL one little baby freaked out and ran to the other side of the balcony. There was nothing I could do. I tried to move toward the railings so the little guy would run back to his nest, but he was too scared. He held on the ledge with two feet and screeched for his momma (Dexter is a she I guess) and then, after some hesitation, jumped off the balcony. And it's a long way down, folks. It hit and bounced and sat there for a while.

Tiffany: 0/ Dexterina: 3

So I ran inside and got a shoebox and went down four flights to find it... When I got down there, it was gone. I looked for a half an hour.... In pajamas, gloves and with a shoebox right in front of a busy major road. I spent the rest of the day feeling horrible that I'd caused the baby to jump to it's possible death. I imagined it lost and cold and hungry, never able to find it's mom & siblings again...

Tiffany: 0/ Dexterina: 3 + major guilt factor points

Later that night I was watching Smallville with John and I heard a faint screech.... the same screech as before.... and I asked myself... WWCKD? (Which of course stands for What Would Clark Kent Do?) And I knew what I had to do. So I got my shoebox and ran downstairs... and I found the little guy hidden under the basement level stairs. I slid under the nasty stairwell and tried to get him... he ran to the other stairwell... So I slid under that one. After repeating this process 5 times, I finally caught him. I returned him to my balcony and Dexterina quickly came out to get him. His little nose was bloody, but he could still run, so I'm guessing he's going to be okay.

I forfeit. I'm laying my armor down. The Squirrel has successfully aquired herself a safe winter hiding place, and I will never again question who is more clever. Not only did Dexterina win the war, she also managed to make me genuinely interested in squirrels. If you want to see some cute little squirrels for yourself, I found a squirrel webcam website where you can see just how cute they are 24 hours a day...

Final Score::: Tiffany: Big Loser/ Dexterina: Winner.

The Real Smallville?

And then this was in the news today.

A village in Peru was hit by a green meteorite on Saturday and now the people are all complaining of a strange illness. When investigated, a local official said that"boiling water started coming out of the crater and particles of rock and cinders were found nearby. Residents are very concerned." No need to worry, it sounds like Clarico Kent has come to rescue us all.

DVD Viewing

I got carried away with talking about how great Smallville is with that last post so I thought I should start a new post for this. The Smallville DVD is coming out today... Season 6. As much as I love the show, I've never seen a episode at it's regularly scheduled time nor have I been bothered with commercials.

A friend got me into the show after he bought the DVDs and I've watched them all that way. It might be an old thought by now, but it really does make it that much better. My one beef with the masterminds who started putting out DVDs of shows is, today the DVD comes out. Season 6... I haven't seen a single episode of it. There's something like 24 episodes in a season. Season 7 starts next week on TV. Now I'm not saying that I couldn't watch a full season in a week, but I just don't see it happening.

Somebody Save Me

I think I am in definite need of rescue. Lately, I've been watching a lot of the cheesiest show on television and it's going to my head. Smallville is all about the strange adolescent and young adult years of one Clark Kent. These are the years when he learns many of his powers and how to control them, and not to mention how to hide them. All the while he saves the small town of Smallville from a never-ending supply of meteor freaks and battles his own demons to figure out his destiny... becoming Superman.

Like the CSI's, SVU's and NCIS's of the world that ask questions like who did it or what happened, Smallville has these questions with each show, but you generally know what will happen next... Clark Kent to the rescue! Unlike these shows, it's also asking what's right and what's wrong. Even though we almost always know the answer.

Clark Kent may always choose the right thing, but the right thing to do is often not what you want him to do. And with Clark Kent's friend Lex Luthor, a man we know will be evil, it's always fun seeing him teeter on the edge of good and bad... always wanting to do good, but usually winds up being evil.

It may be a good show, but it is on the WB, now CW, home of Dawson's Creek and Gilmore Girls... and I don't even know what else. And as such the standard dopey acting, especially with Clark and Lex, exist, but it also makes the show worth rooting for. Just so long as you remember it's based on a comic book.

OPEC HQ

I don't really have anything important to say, but why is the headquarters for the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries in Vienna, Austria? Okay here are the countries in OPEC: Algeria, Angola, Iraq, Indonesia, Iran, Kuwait, Lybia, Nigeria, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, and Venezuela.

Here's a map of the OPEC countries.

Here's another map of the OPEC countries with a big red X on Vienna.

I'm all for asking "why not?" but it just seems strange. I guess in a way it makes sense not to use a city anywhere in the cartel. And I'd be all for Vienna, too.

Get the Led Out

I've bought a lot of music this summer. It just sort of happened. I bought one that was pretty good, so I decided to buy another and then before I knew it I was buying two and three at time from Amazon. ...and I used to be so frugal, such the penny-pincher. I used to have a rule with myself that I would have to really truly enjoy two songs on an album before I would consider buying it. Now with Amazon's "People who liked this also bought ..." list I'm not even really sure what I'm getting, I just need a second or third to get me over 25 dollars and avoid shipping costs.

So anyways, I've got, well, Tiff and I got the new Ryan Adams, Rooney, an awful, awful Josh Rouse CD, which was very disappointing, the new Feist, Andrew Bird, Mika, Paulo Nutini, Cary Brothers and I'm sure there are more. Most of which were really good... Josh Rouse though. I don't know what happened. He has two amazing CDs and then a so-so CD and then this god-awful piece of junk.

Whatever though... I've been listening to this stuff almost exclusively for awhile, enjoying my music. Life's been pretty great. Then the other day, I'm not sure what got hold of me, but I decided to throw in a mixed CD that Tiff made of Led Zeppelin, the first song being Tangerine, and it blew away anything that I had been listening to for several months now.

Between the two of us, Tiff and I have a whole lot of CDs, maybe it's time for me to find my frugal roots and rediscover some good music. Especially if I'm going to save up enough money to go to London in November to see Led Zeppelin perform one last show, along with several other big names... and Paulo Nutini.

New Look!! New Blog!!

I started a new blog. Blog is a terrible word for it. No novel ideas or insights into my life will come from it. Like my list of words blog, this new blog is just a list, a list of places I want to go... and perhaps that I've been - I haven't quite worked out all the details yet.

When I was making the new blog, I ran into some blogger features that I didn't know about, like the option to change the colors... so I changed the colors on this blog. The verdict still out on it, but it sure is easy to change. In fact I'm conducting a poll to see if people like my new look. It's on the right, please vote. Switching the colors killed my hit counter though... I think the 2100 or something hits were almost all me anyway. And it knocked out my tip jar which I plan on getting back up soon.

Alright, with no further ado, I give you John Duffy's Places.

UPDATE: There's so much cool new stuff! I'm not sure how long a lot of this stuff will last, so I encourage everyone to take a look around.

Thanks A Lot, Yahoo!

For months now, we've been worrying that our wonderfully weird cat (who still has no name)is not getting enough exercize.

We decided to put her on a diet, even though she doesn't eat all that much in the first place. Being an indoor cat is taking a toll on her naturally active inner-killer, and she spends her days lounging on the sofa and gazing out at the world.

After a few days on the diet, we searched the Internet for ways to cure kitty boredom. I found what I thought was a great Yahoo! article about ways to help put some outdoor adventure into indoor cats' lives. It suggested a "puzzle feeder", which I immediately made out of a shoebox and some tape. I cut a hole in the side big enough for her paw and put a scoop of food inside. The cat was busy for an hour (obviously hungry from her few days on the diet) picking out pieces of food, one by one, and eating them off of the floor. We thought our problems were solved and we had a happy cat on our hands once again.
We let this go on for a week, feeding her mostly from her puzzle feeder. Then one day she knocked over her treats so violently that the container burst open and she was able to eat several handfuls before we caught her. It was then that we first started to question the article's "work for food" advice. So we started feeding her in the bowl and leaving food in the puzzle box (for her adventurous moments). We thought this was the answer and all was well until, a week later, we noticed the food in the bowl wasn't getting eaten as much as usual. We assumed she just really loved her puzzle box.
A few days ago, as we ate our dinner, the cat decided to eat her dinner, too. We looked down to see the cat taking food pieces from her bowl one at a time and eating them off of the mat. Then she moved on to the water, pawing droplets out onto the floor and licking them up. Thanks a lot, Yahoo! for training our cat to be obsessive compulsive.

On the upside, she is spending less time on the couch but only because her new method of eating takes hours.

Bread

Look what I can dough!

And from scratch too. I felt I just kneaded to do something. I've always been good at just loafing around, life keeps getting breader and better.

The Lottery

"I'd rather be working for a paycheck
than waiting to win the lottery."

But if I can do both, than why not? I've been playing the Megamillions a lot recently. Probably too much. A couple of weeks ago, I was convinced I would win the 8 million dollar jackpot, so I put $5 into it. Nobody won so it rolled over to the next drawing. Today, some five or six rollovers later, maybe more, and $25 later, maybe more, the jackpot stands at 122 million dollars, and I still believe that I will be the next big winner.

The thing about the lottery is that you always truly expect to win. For just those last five minutes right before eleven o'clock, my mind races with the what-ifs and first-I'll-do-this, and every time it's something different. "I'll buy a house first," I'll think one night; "I'm going to travel," on another night. Once I thought I'd spread some money out to my family... once. Today I'm thinking, "I'll keep working - I won't tell anyone that I won - and then I'll quit in a huffy at the worst possible time." Revenge for what exactly I'm not quite sure, but right now, it just sounds nice.

The truth is, $122 million ... I have no idea what I would actually do if I actually won. I'd be happy, maybe even ecstatic, if I just won anything, even just $25. This makes me wonder why do it, if now-a-days it takes a couple of bucks for me to dream big. Maybe, but it also only takes a couple of bucks to win big... oh yeah!!

A Sports Weekend for the Ages

Barry Bonds tied the homerun record this weekend. Alex Rodriguez hit his 500th homerun, becoming the youngest ever to do so. Former Atlanta Brave Tom Glavine won his 300th game of his career, possibly the last to ever do so.. While we're at it...Frank Thomas hit his 505th homerun. Jim Thome hit his 490th. Some crazy guy thought he won a race, but it looks like he only had road rage. Oh... and Barry Bonds will surely hit another homerun, maybe even tonight... or tomorrow.

I watched SportsCenter this weekend. That's nothing unusual for me, but I guess this weekend was a pretty monumentous weekend for sports. As always, I was just waiting for the 30-second highlight reel of the Braves game... that is if they win, which I can tell by the constant scroller at the bottom of the screen, or going on-line. If they lose, I usually don't watch SportsCenter. Although I am glad I saw the bit on Glavine, the rest of that stuff, even Bonds, I don't really care about. I don't think I care at all. In fact, I'm just sick of hearing about it.

ESPN missed one of the biggest sports stories from the weekend though, and what I believe truly made it monumentous. I beat my personal best on the Yahoo game Super BounceOut, thank you very much. The old score had stood for four long years, untouched and untested, for though I had tried, I had not come even close. I thought I had past my prime; I thought my glory days were behind me. But ho! ...in one game, I racked up a mind-boggling 185,410 points, crushing my old record by nearly 20,000.

I'm not sure how great an accomplishment this is, but I guarantee that there is no asterick by this record. Anyways, there's not much as far as local competition in BounceOut, but I challenge the good people in blogland to top 185,410. I don't think it can be done.

Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty had a big fall...

And all the king's horses and all the king's men... went and got a camera.

Rick Steves

I'm strangely mesmerized by travel shows. The perky lady on the Travel Channel is pretty cool, but I much prefer the cheesy PBS ones. Sunday mornings always have the silent fly-over-European-villages show, which is nice for awhile. There's the one that sucks about cheap travel or something like that, but then there's "Rick Steves' Europe."

God, he's a handsome devil. He may be the biggest dork on television, but Rick Steves makes a damn good TV show. It's Europe stripped without all the glitter and glamour of the Travel Channel's countdown shows, but still having a sense of awe about the place. Rick Steves is the best part of the show. He makes me want to go every time. He makes me want see all the little spots he visits. He makes me want to stop and talk to all the shopkeepers and store owners throughout Europe. He makes me want want to rent a a bicycle and peddle through the up country, where life is the same as it has been for generations. He makes me want to dance polka awkwardly with Bavarian strangers who are clearly thinking "who the hell is this loser." The guy is awesome. Yes, Rick Steves is a true American hero.

But seriously without him, I wouldn't know about a whole slew of cool stuff about Europe for when I win the lottery and get to go. Like Plitvice Lakes. Who's ever heard of this place? but it looks amazing.

Big Book with Big Words

I've been trying to learn new words. I don't actively seek out words. I just write down words that I'm not sure about as I come across them, especially if I like the way they sound. It may seem like a pretty darn good way to learn new words, expand my vocabulary, all that jazz, but while I can usually make sense of the word when I find it, by the time I look it up, even with the definition I have no way of knowing how to use it in a sentence. Words like bourse are particularly confusing.

With the new Harry Potter book, these words come fast, almost forced, and at times I felt I should of had a vocabulary list at the start of each chapter... "Here are the Words You'll Need to Know." Quiz will be on Friday... oh no, that's today!!

But these words, and probably all big words, you don't really need to know. And besides, I couldn't pull my eyes away long enough to write them down. The final Harry Potter may appear as a brick of a book, but as with all her books, the pages quickly melt away, taking you to a made-up world that, even at age 27, I desperately wish that I could join.

While by many standards it may not be a great piece of literature, the Deathly Hallows is still pretty amazing, especially considering that it's been 10 years in the making, probably the most highly anticipated book ever. It far and away surpasses any expectation set upon it.

I really liked it.

After I was done, I did look up one word to add to my list. While I've heard the word before and even used it once or twice - I probably could even BS you a decent definition - "hallow" is a verb that means to make or honor as holy. At first, it didn't seems to fit, given that it's a noun in the book, but then it fit perfectly and magically makes sense.

The End of the World

I finally found a book that reads like a James Bond movie, complete with a maniacal billionaire set on destroying the world. There's even an endless supply of henchmen wearing all black including little skull caps. See, by mastering nanotechnology, they can send a giant chunk of Antarctic ice into the ocean, creating a wobble in the earth's tilt, thus upsetting the whole plate tectonics thing and sending Antarctica 2000 miles north. In the end, the sea levels would rise some 400 feet, killing just about everyone, unless of course you were one of the chosen 250,000 who got to go on a giant boat.

The only problem I found with this scheme is that the major bad guys were all descended from sperm of Adolf Hitler that was smuggled out of Nazi Germany to Argentina.

While I know it's probably important to stop these people, as the hero did by running over the bad guys at thirty miles an hour, I couldn't help but think how cool it would be to be one of the 250,000 people. Ride out the storm on a big boat, and then start out exploring a whole new world, of sorts. I could be a pioneer. A founding father. I could be important.

I think I would be a rancher. Or a nanotechnician. Or a wizard. Next up is the Harry Potter finale. It's time I read a book where I know I'll root for the good guys, although I am nervous for the heroes. And while I'm usually against hype, I want to read it before I find out what happens. I hope it's not too late to get started.

But if I do, I guess it's not like it's the end of the world or anything... maybe just a small wobble in it's tilt.

Home Sick

Eleven years ago, at the tender age of 16, I spent much of my summer vacation living on a mountain with strangers. It was my first time away from home. To illustrate how homesick I was, let me just say that I think I only sent one letter home, which if I'm not mistaken focused heavily on the greatness of Independence Day, the Will-Smith-battles-aliens movie that I saw the day before I climbed the mountain. As far as I was concerned, it was the greatest movie of all time, hands-down, bar-none. I mean, come on, they blow up the White House.

I can't tell you much more about the movie than that, because I don't remember... I've never seen it second time. Something tells me though that Independence Day is no longer the greatest movie of all time. Especially after seeing Transformers.

Now that's a movie! Take one of the lamer childhood toys from the '80's - a Muted Guerrilla survey ranks them a distant third behind GI Joe and He-Man, right alongside Micro Machines - and combine it with a wacky kid from the Disney Channel and you get, well... a movie destined to fail. Throw in special effects and a random hot screaming lady, and you have got yourself pure Hollywood gold. Gold, I tell you!

Eleven years the wiser and I'll refrain from declaring Transformers as the best movie ever, but even with it getting kinda corny towards the end, it's definitely the first movie I've seen in a long time worth the ticket price - matinee value of course.

I was thinking of swearing off movies, a big step for me as I love to see a movie, but $9.75 a ticket is crazy. It just makes me feel old. I remember a time when it was a third less than that. And that was when I graduated college. When I was in high school, the dollar theater was just that, a dollar theater. You could see good movies there too. And it was close, seems like it was just around the block. We could ride our bikes there, barefoot both ways, when me and the boys were playing hookie from school. We had to avoid mean old Mrs. Copperbottom though. Oh, those were the days... those were the days.

Squirrel Fraud

While I was housesitting last week, John called me and informed me that there was a squirrel on our balcony... our 4th floor balcony. We've lived here over 3 years and have never seen a squirrel higher than the second floor, so this was one adventurous squirrel. Anyway, when John first saw it, it was laying flat on it's belly with its head hanging over the edge, seemingly wondering how the hell it was going to get down.

It stayed like that for a day or so. The next time John checked the porch, it was gone, so we figured no problem.... When I got home from housesitting, I glanced out the window and saw the squirrel was back, this time making himself at home, chewing his way into my birdseed bucket and proceeding to sit inside of it and eat birdseed for over 2 hours. I'm not joking, I clocked him.

SO, being the animal lover that I am (and quite honestly those things are pretty scary face to face and there was no way either of us were going out there), we named him Dexter (get it.. deck-ster), and took pictures of him, thinking he would go away after finishing off the seedy goodness.

That night I checked on our balcony, in hopes of playing a mean game of competitive Scrabble with John outside without fear of a squirrel attack. BUT, Dexter had taken an old tee shirt that was out there and put it into one of our flower beds and made a comfy place to curl up and nap in... or sleep in all night, which is what happened. Now that was cute. This went on for a couple days. It really irritated my cat, but John and I both liked the new pet. We started to wonder if maybe Dexter had been banished from his squirrel friends and had nowhere else to go. We decided over time Dexter would get used to us, and eventually we'd gain some mutual respect and be able to share the balcony space and live in harmony with nature. Plus, he was way more fun to watch than the birds anyway.

This morning I woke up to check on Dexter to see if he slept there all night. I walked to the window and there he was. Covered in dirt. For those of you who don't know, John bonsais. He works hard at bonsai-ing. It's not easy to do and the plants are his babies. Maybe we should've told that to Dexter...but we didn't, and when I saw him, he was having a lot of squirrely fun rolling around in John's newly planted Japanese Maples. Dexter and I made eye contact and I realized, he was not an outcasted member of squirrel society. He was just a greedy, no-good, low-down rodent.

So, still in my pajamas, I armed myself with an extendable feather duster, and I put on a winter hat, leather gloves, and John's tennis shoes and fearlessly ventured onto the balcony. The western show-down music played in my head as I extended the duster and wacked at Dexter until he jumped. Those things are incredible jumpers.

I brought all of Dexter's things inside so if he returns, he'll know I mean business.

So, kids, don't let squirrels fool you, no matter how convincing they may be.

My Plates are Dead

The lady behing the counter told me three times in less than a minute that my plates are dead.

Six months ago, I donated my car to the blind. It wasn't out of genorosity or anything, I was just looking to get rid of it and the Council for the Blind was willing to come and get it. It wasn't until yesterday that I went to the DMV to tell them that I donated my car on January 9th. I had with me my county sticker and one license plate in one hand and in the other, a recently discovered form saying that I needed the title, registration, proof of sale, and two license plates in order to take my name off the vehicle. The form went on to say, "failure to comply by 06/17/2007 will require DMV to suspend your driver's license and vehicle license plates." To say that I was dreading this trip to the DMV would be an understatement.

It was also about six months ago that I stopped blogging. I'm not quite sure why except to say that I feel that even with a lot to talk about, I don't have much to say... at least not on a blog. Sure I could make another list of events in my life, but why? What I'm failing at saying is that with every post, I usually don't set out to say anything. I just start writing and see where it takes me, which is fun and why I like to do this. Even if I have nothing to say.

Back at the DMV, after a loooong wait (and I got there before it opened!), which saw my anxiety level increase exponentially, I handed the lady behind the counter the form, and she quickly punched in some numbers, asked me a question which I answered her I donated it, and then she said, "Oh, your plates are dead. It says your plates expired May 31st, your plates are dead." "So what does that mean?" I asked. "It means we're done. Your plates are dead."

After all that time worrying, it turns out I didn't have to say much of anything at all.

We're in Business

So my girlfriend recently got a check in the mail for $25.

A year ago, she created an account with these Zazzle folks, designing a few stamps. It took her a couple of hours to do then, as she says, "didn't think about it for months." But now she's 25 bucks the richer.

So after she spent a couple more hours, I decided to set up shop myself, and in no time I was in the T-shirt business, with a bunch of different products. Most of them are versions of shirts that I made for myself with iron-on letters years ago and are now faded to the point of not making sense. I think it's finally time to share them with the world.

Anyways, while I'd be surprised if I sell anything - and if I did, Zazzle, an awful name, would get the lion's share of the money - it was quick and easy, and now I just sit back and wait for the money to roll in, maybe. Plus, if by some chance I ever see some stranger wearing one on the street, years in the future, well, that would just be cool. (A guy can dream can't he.)

Now, while the products were quick and easy, please notice the fine computer craftsmanship of the title of the web page, it was neither quick nor easy, but on the upside, I probably saved $25 staying in on a Saturday night.

My Name is Gary Wozniak

My Dad called me yesterday about mid morning. Unfortunately I was asleep. He left me a message though. One of the things he mentioned was that the CIA is hiring. You know something is not right when even your father, fiscally-minded as ever, is encouraging you to look away from your fully-benefited county government job... but I digress...

I think working for the CIA would be one of the coolest jobs ever. I could picture it now, going to formal balls in exotic locations. My cigarette lighter would be a powerful firearm. My shoes would convert my voice into some semaphore code which would be decoded on the other side of the world. My car would shoot beams of molten lava from its headlights... when it wasn't in submarine form of course. And all the while I'd be making so much money that I could hire Quincy Jones and Burt Bacharach to write me a theme song.

For Valentines Day, I unknowingly was selected as a covert operative. Tiff had this elaborate trail of clues, riddles, and puzzles that took a week for me sort my way through... and in the end I got an awesome back massage. Valentine's is great. Over the week, which included a very cool trip to the International Spy Museum here in DC, I had a glimpse of my potential in the clandestine services... that of a bumbling idiot. Yep, when it comes to stealth, disguise, and deceit, I get three big strikes. Strike, strike, and strike.

So while I will definitely take my Dad's advice and check out the CIA jobs available - and take the CIA's advice and not tell anyone which positions I applied for (seriously) - I think I'm more suited to going to DC to learn about spies than to becoming a spy to learn about DC. But it's still fun to dream.

...And I still remember my assigned cover story from when you enter the museum. I'm Gary Wozniak, teacher, age 25, Canadian resident, born in Shaipu(?), New Zealand, visiting the Philippines on business to try and start a student exchange program. I expect my stay will be 90 days. Oh yeah, I'm good... or better yet, Double O-yeah

Don't call it a comeback

Wow... Two months. It has been awhile since I've written. Here is a list of everything important that has hapened since my last post:

engagement

answering machine
Christmas
New Years
Blokus
bonsai
Christmas shopping
Japan
notebook
ballet
baby
baby
e-bay
dreams
nightmares
resolutions
work
diet
cell phone
digital camera
Arboretum
work christmas party
diet
Alabama
Al Gore
alcohol
the Lord All-mighty
Christmas Tree
Camera 13
snow
my car
Little Miss Sunshine
sickness
steak
scratch'n'sniff
Japan
eleven hours
restraints
yarn
crazy psychos
the SuperBowl
Bonnaroo
gay rape
"Mom"
veterinarian
gang task force
painting
teeth
winter
neighbors
the lottery

All of these thingswould have been featured prominently in this blog had I been writing anything for the past two months. Their relevence to my life would have been explained fully and each would have offered further proof of my greatness. Therefore, any reference from here on in to any listed sublect should be remembered fondly, perhaps with the thought, "That John Duffy..."

That being said, the recent excitement in my life is my unknowing immersion into the mysterious world of clandestine operations. I shouldn't say much more, but I hope to be able to explain soon. For now, all I can say is that I don't think Tiffany has a clue... I think she's already hidden them all.

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...