Jesus Is My Friend

Simply amazing...

Lipstick On Both Sides of the Mouth

This is amazing. Thanks to my cousin Nat (one of my favorite people on the earth planet) for sharing this with me today.

M.Damon on S.Palin

Turns out Matt Damon and I have more in common than our on again off again relationship with Benji Affleck. Since the RNC I've had this nervous, weird feeling about the choice of Gov. Palin as VP but didn't have the words for it. Jason Bourne does though and they're a perfect mix of funny but true observations. His Disney comments are spot on and I love how they make the interviewer crack up. Check it.

Joke Teller

Yesterday I commented on two bloggies using Mitch Hedberg jokes. I haven't thought of Mitch in awhile. Then out of nowhere he was very relevant to my Tuesday. So on this fine Wednesday I watched my old friend on the youtube and remembered why were such good friends. The guy's a genius. My roommates and I seriously spent a couple years in college talking incessantly like Mitch Hedberg. I bet I went days at a time never sounding like Brad. No wonder we had a small, tight knit group of friendos.

We Got Trouble

America is in trouble, folks. Leah and I went to dinner last night at a small, cafe/bar where the locals gather to sing karaoke, watch their friends' cover bands, drink American beer, eat double decker sandwiches and play the skeet bowling machine with their kids. This place even has an ice cream treat dispenser next to the dart boards. The interior is covered in wood paneling, the lighting fixtures are all different and most of the servers wear sweat shorts. It's a classic dive with all the fixings. But they're in trouble. Something is awry in their kitchen. Maybe it's energy costs or cut backs or downsizing but they are unable to heat their meatballs up to an edible temperature. My sandwich came out with freezing cold balls of meat covered in lukewarm sauce. I walked the sandwich up the bar (the server might've been in the back wiping crumbs off her sweats) and alerted them. The bartender/owner apologized profusely. Promised me the next sandwich was on them. Strange thing to say I thought. Fifteen minutes later the sandwich comes out. This time the bread is bronzed and scalding hot- obvious that it sat in an oven. I looked at Leah who was long finished with her Turkey Club, smiled at my plate of redemption, and sunk my teeth into freezing cold balls of meat in lukewarm sauce. Again. This lovely cafe must not be plugged into the power grid. They must have inane robots for cooks who work for pennies but know nothing about meatballs and how delicious they can be even at room temperature. Because if there were humans above the age of five working back there they certainly wouldn't have failed twice. To send out cold balls once, let alone twice, leaves one baffled and nervous. And hungry. They were shocked that I didn't want them try a third time.

This hometown cafe is in trouble, folks. I can only hope our next president can do something. Give them the education they need to learn about microwaves. Give them the funds they need to staff their kitchen with human beings who have brains and opposable thumbs so they can turn their ovens and microwaves on. That's hope we can dream in. Dream on? Dreams we can change on? Believe with? Gotta work on the catchphrase. The future of 'Merica rests in our meatballs. Thank you. Good night and good luck.

RFL 9/08

Vacation is coming to a close. It was a magically delicious week. There was a good mix of hard work and total relaxation. Took Dr. Jackson for a boat cruise. She wanted to jump in and retrieve every floating leaf or stick we passed. In addition to ripping up the deck, I also destroyed a set of bunk beds that were built to sleep overweight grizzly bears. MACBB (mothers against collapsing bunk beds) would've been proud of the nail-happy architects of these beds. They would not have been proud of the architect's decision to forgo a safety rail. Back when Shep was just a pup I fell out of the top bunk and cracked my head open. Still have the scar in the back of my head. I slept in that bunk room until I married Leah. Lots of memories. Lots of late night talks with Brenty. But he and his wife need a room. Putting newlyweds in bunk beds is just flat out cruel. It'd be like sending a cured diabetic into a candy store with zero dollars. Newlyweds like candy. S'all I'm saying.

The only way this week could get any better is if I could take tomorrow off as well and watch the Bucks beat up on the Bobkittens and my Bearcats take on the Boomer Sooners. And because I have the greatest boss ever, that's exactly what I'm gonna do. Glory be.

Truckstop Street Team

The past few weeks of politics have been fascinating. I watched as a NFL stadium filled with TGI Fridays servers who wear their love for Obama anywhere there's room for a button. I watched that guy from Law and Order bumble his way thru an extremely awkward speech a couple days ago. I watched Gov. Pallin talk about being a hockey mom. I've made statements to Leah about how it just seems like it's going to an Obama blow out. But then we went to the Rocky Fork Truckstop for breakfast and ate beside the unauthorized McCain Street Team. These two roughneck dudes (I don't say that as a slam, they were covered in the grit and gravel of America's byways) recapped Pallin's speech and how much they hate Obama. The F word was a mandatory adjective for every single sentence. No exaggeration. They said things like, "You see that woman's speech last night?" They said they were long time Democrats and if Biden or Hilary were running they'd vote Democrat again. But not Obama. They hate Michelle Obama for not being proud of America and want her to leave if she ain't proud. They passionately reminded each that Barack ain't never fought in a war. Their conversation turned quiet and I overheard words like "kill that mother@$%!." Then I come home, open up the paper and see that in Columbus someone spray painted "Death Obama" on one of his supporters homes.

A week in Hillsboro has opened my eyes to the complexity of our diverse country. Made me wonder about, but not want to hear the other conversations truckers are having on CBs and in truckstops across America. I bet they are scary as hell.

Workation

We started our vacation this week by tearing down a deck that has been rotting since 1963 and building a new one that'll last for centuries. I am proud to say that we spent Labor Day celebrating our brawn. Here's a few pics. Good times.

Dr. Jackson

Have you met Miss Jackson? She's some dog. She grew up on the mean streets of Clifton biting rocks and splashing around in our slime-covered toilet. She christened my first post-college apartment by eating the vinyl kitchen floor. I remember coming home seeing the shredded floor and just staring at Miss J. dumbfounded. I wasn't even mad. Large portions of the vinyl were gone.
Not only did she destroy it she ate it. She's hardcore. What I didn't know then was this was her first display of her clairvoyance. A month after this incident the water hose on my washing machine broke. I got a call at work from the super saying my apartment had a flood. They found water pouring thru the ceiling of the recently-vacated apartment below me. My exposed, vinyl-less kitchen floor worked as a sponge sucking up the water and sending it downstairs instead of throughout my apartment. Miss must've seen the future. She swallowed all that faux tile to save my Value City furniture.

Early this morning we realized that she is also a psychic doctor. Don't let the staring-out-the-window video fool you.

I have the diabetes. This means that from time to time my blood sugar goes dangerously low. When this happens in the middle of the night weird things can happen because the confusion of hypoglycemia combines with a half-awake dream walk.
Kind of hard to explain. But for example, in college, I woke up low and stumbled into the kitchen. I pulled out milk and a box of HoneyComb but didn't know what to do after that. This sounds made up, but I fell to my knees and started crying because I didn't know how to make cereal. That same year I had a "dream" that I had to find a granola bar before leaving the house. I "dreamt" that I was digging thru a closet certain there was a bar of granola under the countless boxes. I never found it. At some point I woke up feeling like somebody punched me in the face. I was lying underneath an ironing board upstairs in the spare bedroom. Boxes were everywhere. So was the iron that fell onto my face. I grabbed my nose (the pain nucleus) to find it covered in blood. I still have the scar to prove it. That iron was centimeters from turning me into a pirate. All that to say, late night low blood sugar is a weird thing. Sometimes it ends in seizures and wild interactions with EMTs. That's a whole different post. I got some stories.

So today at 6am I woke up low. I went into the bathroom and stood there. I woke up because Miss Jackson pressed her nose into my face. Then, as I stood in the bathroom confused (classic sign of being low) she ran back and forth from the bathroom to Leah. Leah got up, brought me some juice and our hyperactive dog followed. As I sat on the toilet (pants up) drinking the juice Miss Jackson instantly calmed down and rested her head on my feet. When I "woke up" we realized/put it together that this has happened the past three times I've gone low in the middle of the night. Miss wakes me up and then runs around all hyper until I'm eating or drinking something. Then she goes back to sleep. Psychic endocrinologist.

It makes me wonder how many times she did this when I was living by myself. If I think back to those midnight cereal-eating and juice-guzzling adventures she was always standing two inches from me. And I think for more than just the spilled Fruity Pebbles and Oreos. She's seriously been saving my assets (double meaning intended) for years and I've never really given her credit. Maybe I should give her a bouquet of vinyl and rocks. Something that shows her I care. She's some dog.

Linked Lovelies

I'm guessing a sausage commercial? Here's my guess at the script...

"There's only one thing I hate more than sunshine. Unlinked sausage. Look at this lasso of meat. A naturally-encased, locomotion-shaped treat. Do the right thing. Buy these Linked Lovelies. With cash. Today."



I dare you to write a better script than that gemstone.