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.