The Three Finger Theory

I have long held on to the belief that mankind is evolving. Not so much in the superpower sense that Heroes promotes and not so much in the two paths sense of HG Wells' Time Machine. Both of those could happen, I'm not contending that. I would love to be able to fly or shoot laser beams from my eyes or whatever. I'm thinking of something far more subtle, but potentially just as significant.

I developed this theory in the prime of my brain activity years, college, and grasped onto the idea immediately and have let it percolate and bubble over as time has gone by. As I was deep in thought studying the back of my hand one day, I noticed something about my fingers.My fingers naturally stay with a gap between my index and middle finger and another between my ring finger and pinky. It only makes sense that the result of this one day in the not-so-distant future will be a generation of babies born with only three fingers. Yes, it is my belief that the future will bring a joining of the middle and the ring finger in what will undoubtedly be known as the middling finger. Or the ringiddle finger.

But then recently, something happened that made me rethink that. I looked down at my beautiful hand to ponder my future middling finger and this is what I saw:Complete and catastrophic heartbreak slowly sank in. How could I have been so naive? My wedding ring throws the entire Three Finger Theory out the window. It is a defenestrated theory! Not only is the ring a physical barrier to the blissful union of middle and ring, it's done so forcefully and painfully as I become accustomed to wearing the very symbol of blissful unions!

As I must slowly recover from the shock and grief brought on by this startling discovery, I will turn to my shiny new ring to brighten my day and my shiny new wife to tell me everything will be okay.

Skittlers

We, at the Muted Guerrilla, would like to introduce to you the greatest game in all the world. The game is simply called skittlers. We stumbled upon this addictive game of skill and precision while on our honeymoon in Jamaica's beautiful Runaway Bay. It's look reminds me oddly of the old cigarette vending machines, but I don't have any pictures suggesting that.

I am confident, however, that you have never seen anything like it or even near it's demanding level of pure enjoyment... for it demands that you have a good time. How can I be so confident? I challenge you to look up skittlers on the internet... you can't find it. Of course, if you type in "skittle" and "Jamaica," you might find the website of our honeymoon destination, but that's asking too much.

Skittlers is similar to billiards in that it's a table game with a green top with holes and you use a cue stick to swat at balls, but the similarities end there. In fact, a better example is golf. But imagine, if you will, if golf were played for speed, and if you have a bad hit you have to start all over, way back at the beginning. That's still not quite right.

So you have yourself a starting point, like a tee, and you have to hit the balls into any of nine holes in order to score points. Each hole has a different value. Every time the ball goes in a hole it rolls down the inside of the machine and out a slot that is worth points. Standing in your way are four menacing wooden posts, guarding the front four holes. If one of these precariously balanced sentinels topples over, which they will undoubtedly do, you lose all your points and start over. The winner is the first to 500.

Oh!! It is so much fun. Tiff and I became pretty good at it too.. We still had our share of start-overs but it never lost its fun. I'm bummed that I probably won't find it here in Virginia, but I guess that's another reason to go back to Jamaica.

And I Didn't Even Get a Toothbrush

My writing and posting seems to go in spurts; it was about this time last year that I trailed off only to reemerge in the summer. It must be something to do with the shortened days... it must be.

Last spring, as I was in writing hibernation, I came close to posting something all of one time. I envisioned it in letter format:

Dear Mom,
I finally made it to the dentist. They cleaned my teeth really well. I only have nine cavities!
Much love,
John Duffy

I'm not sure why it was a letter to my mom, I don't even think she reads my blog.

Anyways, nine months later, I'm finally cavity free, although the dentist said five of them could potential become root canals. Great! More trips to the dentist!

It took two trips to the dentist to get all my cavities worked on; I'm beginning to figure out the proper dentist chair etiquette, if there is any. I haven't experienced stuff like colonoscopies, but the regular dentist visits are surprisingly awkward. I mean the dentist's face is maybe ten inches from yours and they are staring at you the whole time, with their rubbered hands wedged into your mouth. Getting cavities done, I had a second face near mine, with a third and fourth hand working in my mouth.

With two faces right in front of me, I had a hard time finding something to look at. I closed my eyes for a while but that made me swallow more, so I tried to keep them open. I can report the ceiling was a dreary cream color. There is a TV in the office, but it's at my feet so I couldn't watch it. The dentist surely did though, occasionally making comments that I responded to through grunts with hands in my mouth. The second time I went I was unusually tired and felt myself drift off to sleep once or twice. I twitched and jumped and couldn't explain, as I had hands and drills in my mouth.

All in all, I'm done with the dentist for a while... at least six months or so. Hopefully, I'm not done with the blog for six months or so. We will see though.

The Goat Race

So I got married... Tiffany is now my wife. Jamaica was amazing, absolutely amazing, and we had a truly wonderful time. There are many, many stories to tell, including some of actually getting married, but Tiff and I agree that the first one shared definitely needs to be the Goat Race.

I was in the fourth heat of racers. The three heats before me were all very close match-ups, where it was anyone's race right down to the finish line. My heat was extremely intense from the beginning. Here's me at the starting line getting pumped up along with all my competitors.

I hope you can see the focus and determination on everyone's face but mine. Here's the actual race:

So I didn't take home the grand prize but I feel I gave it all I had... I'm not sure if the goat put forth all his effort though.

I'm Getting Married!!

Tomorrow I head off to the Caribbean, where I'll be getting married on Friday!! I'll be back next Thursday with a ring on my finger and a wife on my arm. And I'll eventually share a story or two, but for now... I'm off to this gazebo: And I'm getting married!!

Christmas Convoy

The federal government has quite a few resources at their disposal.

The other day... over a week ago now - the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Tiff and I drove up to a long line of cars and trucks on the highway all blinking their hazards. They were driving way too slow for I-95 and were really making heavy traffic become dangerous traffic. I muttered more than one word that I shouldn't repeat.

With the first five or six cars we saw, along with a blue-light police car, we assumed we were passing a funeral, but a funeral procession on the highway? Hmmm... a little peculiar. When we went over a hill, things became a little clearer, albeit a little stranger. We didn't see many at first, but we did see one of them. A giant flatbed truck was just ahead covered with no less than 75 Christmas trees. We soon caught up to it and noticed it was a U.S. Forestry Services truck.

The federal government always gets the best. These trees, judging by their liscense plates, are hauled down from Vermont. I guess that's where true authentic Christmas trees are born. The Christmas tree farm just up the rode from where Tiff grew up, maybe an hour outside of DC, aren't quite good enough. The federal government deserves the best.

We passed maybe ten more trucks each with Christmas trees stacked high and then we caught up to the lead one. An equally large flatbed truck with one giant Christmas tree wrapped up in a traveling coat fully decorated with lights with a big sign reading:
I'm not sure about that dog there. We stopped at the next rest stop to rest and as we were getting ready to go, in comes the Christmas Convoy, one after the other. I got to take a few pictures.Looking back on it, I probably could have gotten some better shots. Just to note, these are not the National Christmas Tree. That tree is planted in the ground outside the White House. Even though it's there year round, it was a gift by the state of Vermont... it's authentic.

Suddenly Seventeen

I promise my lack of recent posts has nothing to do with the Writers strike.

I've had a cold for a few weeks. That's not all that uncommon for me. A few days of a bad cough turns into a few days of a runny nose turns into a few days of just not feeling good and then the cough comes back. It's pretty minor and I've never gone to the doctor for it. It's just a cold. A doctor's visit would be a waste of time, mine and his.

I took two days off from work this week mainly just to take two days off from work. My boss asked that I bring in a doctor's note. A doctor's note for a common cold. By the time I got to the doctor's, I felt fine, my one symptom, a runny nose, being completely cleared up, and I was rehearsing how I would justify to the doctor coming in. "My boss needs a note," was about the extent of it.

I'm losing track of my story. It turns out, while I felt healthy, I had a temperature, 99.1, and she said my glands were swollen and then said I had a sinus infection, which I think is just a fancy word for a cold. It all happened very quickly and I forgot to ask for a note.

The weird part is at the pharmacy. As the pharmacist handed me my meds, she says to me, "You may want to call your insurance company." I'm not sure what it was but I knew I was guilty of something and turned bright red. She explained that the insurance company has my birthday as May 6, 1990. Each part is pretty close, but altogether, it's way off.

So, while it's nice to be ten years younger, I think I need to make a phone call. I'm curious though how my doctor's office didn't pick up on it.

Happy Veteran's Day

Happy Veteran's Day everybody and thanks to all the veteran's everywhere... or at least all the ones on our side. Today is also significant as it marks the 37th anniversary of the exploding whale.



Yes, the blast blasted blubber beyond all believable bounds. The next line's great too... "alright Craig you can take your hands out of your ears."

Ratings

If I ran a blog empire I would want people to rate my posts as easily as you can rate articles on Yahoo!, CDs at Amazon, or determine the fate of fallen gladiators. I wait... I do run a blog empire! I do want people to rate my posts! Now, if blogger just let me do it I would be a happy camper.

Yahoo! lets you rate each article with a 5 star option. Amazon does the same thing with all it's products. On Yahoo!, you can give movies grades A to F and you can give people the thumbs up or down on their Answers feature. All these are great and wonderful, and would be a great addition to my blog. Well... either a great addition or a short-lived, highly depressing experiment.

Personally, I don't think a five point scale has the range to get a true sense of your opinion towards something. And a ten point scale is too over-used and ten is an arbitrary number anyways, so I am introducing what is to my knowledge the first ever 30 point scale. Thirty points will eliminate ugly decimals, while giving you a broad range to choose from.

It may sound crazy, but it's not - it's revolutionary. Think of the best movie you've ever seen - say it's Home Alone. You think Home Alone is the greatest movie ever made. You especially like the one scene with the old guy in the church. Home Alone would then score a 29. That's right. Nothing ever gets a 30, because something better will always come.

Now let's think of the worst movie ever - say, for whatever reason, you hate the movie Jaws III. Simple enough... it gets a zero. Why can there be a zero and no thirty? Why can there be a zero on a 1 to 30 scale? Because things can always suck.

Anyways, I fear if I drag this on any longer I will start to lose points... even more points than I lost for mentioning that I would lose points for dragging this out. So with no further ado, I urge everybody everywhere to use my new and improved ratings every second of every day.

Or at least until I can convince blogger to give me some sort of rating scale option of its own.

Not-So-Scary Halloween Costumes

I'm a mechanic!

I'm a baker!

The Scariest Costumes of All

Politicians. A few weeks ago, there was a knock on my door. I jumped - I jump at sudden noises. Tiff grabbed our illegal cat and fled to a darkened closet. I opened the door to find my friendly State Delegate, or maybe here in Virginia, Commonwealth Delegate. He told me what he stands for - he's against illegal immigration. He told me what his challenger stands for -she's for illegal immigration. He even gave me shiny flyers as he showed his shiny teeth. I told him I would vote for him.

Yesterday, there was a knock on my door. Tiff grabbed our illegal cat, fleeing to a dark closet. I opened the door to find my friendly State Delegate's friendly challenger and her assistant. I knew the second one was an assistant because she had a clipboard and didn't talk, or even make eye contact. I asked them if they wanted to watch Smallville, we're on Season 5. The challenger told me what she stands for - she's against immigration. She told me what her challenger stands for - he's for immigration. She showed me pictures of her family; I don't know why. I told her I would vote for her even though she didn't want to watch any Smallville.

I live in Prince William County, VA. They've started cracking down on illegal immigration. Apparently, it's a pretty big deal here. If I'm against illegal immigration, it's just because it's illegal. Otherwise, how'd this become the major issue.

I want to buy a house. If either one of them had lied and said, "Once in the State House, or well, Commonwealth House, I will see to it that you own a house," I would vote for them.

Even if they had to tax pumpkins to do it. When all else fails, tax the pumpkins.

Using my Head

Hey look!

I'm a caryatid! well, except I'm a man... details.

Sales Pitch

It wasn't too long ago that Tiff and I finally put our name on the no-call list and the phone more-or-less stopped ringing. The no-call list is great. Our phone rings so little now that sometimes I'm even inclined to answer it. It isn't fool-proof though, and with this being a political season, we've been getting quite a few calls lately. I don't mind surveys or even automated campaign calls, as long as they're not asking for money, they're alright with me.

Last night, however, the Fraternal Order of Police called reminding me to buckle up for safety. Then they said they were going to send me a window-sticker boasting of my support for the Fraternal Order of Police. Then they asked for fifty dollars.

Now, I'm all for buckling up. I think safety belts are great. So are the police. But are there any other organizations out there cold-calling folks for donations? I understand the need to support the police and I am in no way undermining the bravery and citizenship of police officers everywhere. Maybe I'm out of line, but I don't think that equals some moral impetus to give them money.

I don't want to say flat-out "I do not support your cause" because that wouldn't be true. I give him my brief line about how it's a good foundation but I don't have any money to give away right now, and like a good salesman, he pushes on, not for the last time. He tries $35.

In the end, despite all my efforts to be polite and hear him out I just hung up on the guy. I wasn't sure what else to do. I've also been getting a lot of calls from my bank offering me accidental death insurance. I have to fight these off too, explaining that I've already got something similar... a tip jar on the right. Clang, clang. It's my own Fraternal Order of John Duffy. Clang, clang.

I had a different sales encounter recently, too.

Shout Out

End to Batteries!

I made a twenty-five dollar investment yesterday morning at Tuesday Morning. I bought a rechargable battery recharger. It comes with both AA and AAA batteries! Not only am I personally saving the world from Global Warming, but I will never have to buy batteries ever again!

That's right. I will never buy batteries again!

A Better Waste of Time

Just in case anyone else is bored of Bounce Out - I have pushed my high score up to 235,268 - here's another game that's twice as interesting. Desktop Tower Defense 1.5 is 100% strategy... making it 50% fun and 50% frustrating. I will admit there is an end to it, so once you figure it out, it's not quite as exciting. Unlike Bounce Out however, you can see how your score stacks up against other bored dorks.

Desktop Tower Defense is by far the best game that I've tried from the website, but it boasts that there are 1,879 free games to play. It's a site where game developers can put their games online, I believe for free, and share in the ad revenue. It's kind of a cool idea. Maybe not as cool as my block market idea, but genius isn't found everyday.

Lend A micro Hand

A few weeks ago, Bill Clinton was on Oprah talking about giving. I remember I was pretty impressed with the whole notion, but I keep thinking about a five minute segment towards the end about a microlending website. It took me some time to track it down, but I found it, Kiva.org. Here, you can put as little as $25 into an account and donate it to any of a number of poverty-stricken entrepreneurs from around the world. They have to pay it back and then you can donate your money to someone else. Maybe it's just my International Affairs degree speaking, but I think this is the coolest. And you should at least check it out.

For a long time, I've been saving up my change with the noble aspiration of donating a llama to someone through Heiffer International, but I think I like the idea of Kiva better. Despit the note:

Due to a recent surge in support ignited by viewers of the Oprah Winfrey Show, the Today Show, and readers of President Clinton's newly released book Giving, there is
currently a shortage of businesses in need of loans. The Kiva.org staff and our
Field Partners are working overtime to get more businesses on the website. In
the meantime, thank you for your patience!

I almost got out my credit card today, but luckily I checked my horoscope first: "Taurus - Take some time today to review your accounts and make sure you are prepared."

Good thing too, especially after the damn locksmith! They don't take anything less than $25 though, so if you got the urge to donate less, you should donate to the best website on the web on the sidebar. All my thoughts that's fit to print. Clink-clink-clink.

Last One, I Swear...

I didn't want to write anything else about the squirrels on the balcony, but right now I'm being serenaded by one angry momma. She's been satanically barking for over an hour. It's driving me nuts.

Last week, as the baby squirrels had grown big enough to do this:

I decided it was time to say goodbye. I cleaned up all their stuff while momma squirrel was out one day. The next day they had descended into the real world. No more luxury-balcony-tree-house anymore. I saw one of them yesterday on my way down the stairs... our eyes met and communicated what I can only assume was a nod of gratitude, a "thanks for letting me grow up on your balcony and destroy your cat's nervous system". It made me happy. I've done my part in the universe.

The babies haven't been back, but momma squirrel comes back every day to yell at me. It's frightening. If she were a person I'd have a restraining order by now. If you've ever actually heard an angry squirrel, you know what I mean.

At least someone else out there shares in my pain...

Dyn-o-mite!!

I'm trying to keep away from commenting on news articles, but this is my second in a row. The Nobel Prize for Literature was awarded today to this lady. I'm not quite sure who she is either.

The part about it that gets me is actually an article that I had copied-and-pasted and emailed to myself, but the link takes me to the same article so I can't link it... sorry. The article though is all about speculation on who will win. Ms. Doris Lessing was not a top pick. Bookies had three names of possible contenders.

This got me thinking, do people actually bet on the Nobel Prize? I think it fits in well with the spirit of the prize. I can just picture a bunch of British guys at a bar, "Hey Barkeep! Turn the channel, they're about to announce the winner." And then the nervous guy in the corner, "Come on Judy Blume. Come on Judy Blume."

Jungle Fever

Here's a crazy story about an orangutan who shows no interest for female orangutans but has got a thing for tattoed blondes. Monkeys make me laugh. Or apes... whatever.

It's not quite the same, but it reminds me of a wikipedia entry I once read. The Panda is having a modest resurgence in its population. Last year there were a record number of pandas being born under the watchful eye of researchers and zookeepers. Part of the reason is the use of a new technique to instigate the mating dance, showing the pandas videos of other pandas having sex. They may call them "educational" videos, but dim the light, cue Kenny G, and education gives way to natural instincts. Wikipedia even has an entry now titled panda pornography.

Somebody Save Somebody

With my blood. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-haaaa!! I figure it’s close enough to Halloween to pull out the scary laugh.

I gave blood yesterday for the first time in four or five years. If you haven’t done it in awhile I suggest you give it a shot as there have been some serious advances in blood-letting. After the initial interview and blood test, the lady asked me if I wanted to do the red cell retrieval method, which she claimed isn’t much different, just takes a bit longer, and it is a much bigger help to the Red Cross. I hadn’t told Tiff that I was going to give blood so I considered asking to go tell her where I was (we were at an art show together), but it’s for a good cause. I gave a typical non-committal “sure,” and she led me past the reclining cot-like chairs that I’m used to and introduced me to Alyx.

Alyx is not short for anything, I asked. It’s just to make the scary machine look friendlier. So they sit me down in the same sort of chair, smear iodine all over the better part of my arm, just as always, and they ask me to sign a death waiver. Seriously.

They explain a bit more before I sign my life away. Alyx takes blood out of the body, puts it through a centrifuge which divides the red blood cells from the rest of the stuff that’s in blood, and then it takes the red blood cells and gives me back the rest. The fact that they are putting stuff back into my body requires a death waiver. My thought process went something like, “Wait, there’s a centrifuge! Sign me up!”

They stick me with the needle and Alyx kicks on, and the little tube turns red just as always. It’s different than how I remember it though. It hurts. Afraid that I’ve grown into a wuss in the past few years, I don’t say anything, but when I grimace, the attendant, nurse?, explains that unlike the old system that just waits for your heart to pump the blood, Alyx pulls the blood out of you. As disturbing as that sounds, the knowledge that it was working properly was comforting at the time. At least nothing’s wrong, although I did sign that death waiver.

The centrifuge kicks in and sure enough blood filters into a darkening red bag and yellowing clear bag. Then the process gets reversed, the first of four times that Alyx pushes the good stuff back into my arm. The red tube turns yellow as I feel the pull dissipate, and it doesn’t hurt as bad. The nurse says, out of the blue, “it’s okay to ask for a blanket.” I said something to the effect of what, and she explained that the yellow stuff would be returning to my body at room temperature. I might feel a chill. Great, I thought, and I signed a death waiver.

About halfway through, my hand falls asleep. Usually when a body part falls asleep, you try to get blood to it to get some feeling back in it, but with a giant needle sucking all the blood out, there’s no relief. Soon, I start moving my fingers with concern. I have to watch myself do this because I cannot feel my fingers moving. Yep, I signed a death waiver.

On the last round of yellow stuff returning to my body, I start to shiver. It’s very odd though; I’m not cold, I’m just shivering uncontrollably. My teeth are chattering, my arms are shaking. Just as I’m starting to feel the cold, Alyx turns off, the needle comes out, and the nurse wraps a tourniquet around my arm to hold the cotton ball in place, and keep me from bleeding to death.

I spent my obligatory ten minutes drinking juice and eating the six cracker sandwich pack talking to a frightening one toothed lady who told me that this was her first time giving blood because every other time she tried they thought she was drunk. I wanted to get away from her, and I knew Tiff would be worried, so still a little woozy, I grabbed a water and another cracker pack and went back to find Tiff.

I told Tiff the above story without as much detail, then I start feeling pretty bad. I wish we had brought the camera, because Tiff says I’m turning blue. My lips, around my eyes. I feel cold, and the water and crackers are gone too quickly. I send Tiff off to find food, assuring her that I’ll be okay. She comes back empty handed, there’s no food that will work, stupid Vegetarian Challenge. She agrees to go to a grocery store that’s a good walk away.

While she’s gone, things get fuzzy. I get up from my chair and stumble over to a patch of grass where I sit down, lie down, start to sweat. I start feeling better and somebody comes by and gives me a flag of Annandale, the town we were in. Tiff returns with food and water. I eat and drink and get some color. Pretty soon I turn blue again and have to repeat the process on the grassy patch. As I’m lying down sweating, undoubtedly drawing in customers, little kids are watching, and Tiff suggests I go back to the Red Cross people. I walked away from the blood-thirsty phlebotomists feeling better, but under orders to get a good meal. “There’s six dollar ribs!” which I can’t eat, stupid Vegetarian Challenge, but that’s okay, and there’s nothing I can do, because I signed a death waiver.

A few hours later, the color back in my face, we break down our tent, shows over. It’s usually not that tough, and it isn’t today, but I’m relegated to the sidelines, watching my young fiancé do all the heavy lifting, all the packing, and more or less all the work. So in the end, I didn’t die and didn’t even have to work. Plus, I saved a life, I hope, because it was not a fun process - somebody had better be saved.

Complete and Utter AdSense

Blogger allows you, or well me, to have ads on my site. through AdSense, which I think is because they have special powers to sense out of evil. Or maybe I've just been watching too much Smallville. What it does do is look over my sight from time to time to see what I'm writing about, then it puts up what it thinks are relative ads. Right now, it thinks this blog includes a lot about the Hurricane Katrina Fund, which it suddenly does.

So, I encourage everyone to make me a true sellout and visit whatever it is that I'm advertising for, even if it is little blue pills or specific-use pumps, and therefore make me rich beyond my wildest dreams! Actually, I mainly put it up there just to see what some computer program thinks I'm talking about.

And that's why: President Bush's live-bait helped propel the on-line gaming world of credit cards and virus protection software, while earning $700 a week from your living room!

Words are Fun

Upon suggestion from a fan, hey Ann!, I am changing the format of my word list. I have been putting the words into my own little sentences, perhaps as a way to help remember the word, but more just because it is kind of fun. Now, I will use the actual text and source it.

I think growing up the only regular homework that I was ever truly eager to do was something similar with our weekly vocabulary list straight off the pages of Wordly Wise. Each week we had to create a sentence for each of the twenty vocabulary words, and my memories of it are trying to come up with the strangest sentences possible that still made sense. At the beginning of the year, I would try to have the sentences go together as much as possible, but towards the end, my running internal monologue would award me extra points if I was able to make each sentence as unique in subject and tone as possible. I guess I never really thought about liking the homework, and it hadn't translated into reading yet. That year the class read a book with a pink cover about a kid on a farm. I didn't read it. I never even tried.

I just started reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy. It's an Oprah's Book Club book! I am not very far into it but I'm guessing that Mr. McCarthy name will be used quite a few times. I just saw a list of the greatest modern novels, from 1900 on. James Joyce tops the list with Ulysses. It is not an Oprah's Book Club book. I can only assume that reading it would be one hell of an odyssey, but it uses over 30,000 different words. I'm not sure what kind of sacrifice it would make, but reading it may be worth the challenge.

James Joyce also came in at number three on the list with A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, which I was suppose to read for a class in college. Never even tried to read that one either. I was quite the student.

Cable's Out

A little over a year ago we signed up for cable, getting a good deal as part of the sign-up-now-bonus! package. After two-plus years of fighting bunny ears, we were paying what I saw as a fair price for television. The package included digital cable with a gazillion channels, plus HBO and Showtime.

The gazillion channels I could probably do without, but HBO and Showtime both have a surprising number of excellent shows. None of them ever look good from the previews, but about ten minutes watching any one of them and you are asking yourself simultaneously what the hell is going on? and how have I not been watching this?

Big Love is the spotlight winner for me. Polygamy has never looked so... I'm not sure what the right word is. I'm a bit new to these pay channel shows, but this is the only thing on TV I can think of that both draws you in and pushes you away at the same time - well, maybe VH1's reality shows. All the characters appear underhanded and somewhat evil at one point or another, yet it manages to engulf you into it's chaotic world. It is a pretty amazing feat of storytelling.

I can't say that polygamy ever really intrigued me before, but the show raises a lot of questions. Chief among them is how in the world could someone afford it. I can barely afford living on my own, let alone supporting three families. And with my up-coming nuptials, I kind of like the idea of keeping my options open. Of course, I should mention that Tiff's favorite show was probably Dexter, with it's serial killer protagonist -

I'm sure that has nothing to do with our approaching marriage though.

Our twelve month introductory rate recently expired. Our bill jumped a hundred dollars. Tiff and I decided we could live without these shows. Or at least wait till they are out on DVD.

We now have the "limited basic" package, which still has three times as many channels as we will ever need. Annoyingly though, we lost the "guide" ability and now we never know what's on. I guess we could check on-line but the computer's always way over there and we're way over here.

Just to Add a Little Spice to Life

Complete and utter global domination. That sounds scary, so I've decided not to set my sights on ruling all of mankind. Instead, I'm expanding my online world and adding another blog to my quickly growing empire. I figure if growth of the Muted Guerrilla continues at this pace, I'll be able to get my own ticker on the stock market. MG is still available!

You know actually that's not that bad of an idea... a blog stock market. "Buy" and "sell" blogs based on how they are doing. I wonder how that would work. It could be called the block market. I'm so clever.

Anyways, I have a feeling this is hopping on some trendy bandwagon of self-moderation but let me present John Duffy's Sacrifices. I'm great with these names... I really am clever. John Duffy's Sacrifices is more of a chronicle of personal challenges in the vein of last year's Egg Challenge egg-speriment, where I'll give up something or add something for a said amount of time and hopefully write about how it's going. I decided to go with sacrifices though because John Duffy's Challenges or Personal Challenges sounds a bit too much like an after-school special. I'll admit sacrifices sounds a bit morbid, so the name could possibly change.

I don't think I ever mentioned that a week after the Egg Challenge I went to the doctor with persistent chest pains. Hmmm... I wonder if the two were linked.

Like the rest of my blog empire, John Duffy's Sacrifices probably will only amuse me, and almost surely will never get too high on the block market, but it should be fun... we'll see.

I'm Getting Married!

I'm getting married! Married to the beautiful future Mrs Tiffany Duffy! And we will have a beautiful future.

I must admit it took me a while to write this post... everything sounded cheesy... or like I was writing wedding vows... when all I want it to say is I'm getting married! I'm getting married! I'm getting married! and maybe have a little picture of me doing backflips with excitement. My head shot would be this picture:

and Tiff's would be this picture:

and your mouths would move like South Park characters, screaming... I'm getting married! I'm getting married! I'm getting married! I'm getting married!

We are running away from the spotlight, traditions, and costs of your typical wedding to get married on the sun-filled beaches of Jamaica. We leave in 66 days... I'll try and get a fancy countdown clock on the side. For all the details, here's our very own website.

We are still planning to have a Recognition party, because when people get married you better recognize, but we are thinking that instead of January we will shoot for spring when the weather's a bit nicer.

I don't think the merging of the Duffy's and the Hanback's will allow us to challenge the Klingons for inter-galactic supremacy, but it does set the stage for world domination... or at least a long and happy life.

I'm getting married!

It's Written in the Stars

I'm a Yahoo user, mainly because when I first signed up for an email account my name was available on Yahoo... or actually I think it might be Yahoo!. The exclamation mark makes them much more exciting than the other search engines. And well once you pass out your email address to folks, why bother changing? ... or ... why bother changing! Anyways, Yahoo! changed their format a while ago, which is much nicer, and now I can check my email right on the home page! Rah. I can also now check my daily horoscope easy enough that I actually do.

Horoscopes are a strange thing. They are always so mysteriously formal and direct. "A coworker cannot be trusted today." "You will make exciting travel plans today." "Do not be tempted in splurging in expensive items." "Today you can do no wrong. Enjoy it while you can." They are always written as though they should be carrying an exclamation point at the end, not so much in the excitement the Yahoo! evokes but more in an urgent, threatening way. With even the calmer ones it's like the Zodiac is almost challenging you to defy it.

My astrological challenger is the Taurus. Today's reading is more of a celestial bitch-slap: "Certain truths have become too obvious to ignore -- so stop ignoring them today." Oh, O-kay. Don't hurt me. What does it mean? Am I to have a revelation today? I better had... mess with the bull, you get the horns. I hope I don't miss it. There should be a ray of light and angels singing so I know when it's happening.

The day is half done, and here's my only revelation: Don't put too much stock in the stars.

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.