Thursday, October 30, 2003

Towel Drive

This sign was hanging off a table in the Commons Area of the school I work at and it left me mighty flummoxed.

...the Hell is a Towel Drive?

Is it really what I think it is? Is some agent/agency amassing donated towels for the purpose of supplying them to those in towel-need?

Are there really folk out there suffering from a shortage of towels? If so, what the hell are they using in their daily towel-required activities; such as post-bathing wipe down, the errant spilling of a beverage and/or facial balm and getting those arterial spurts off the slaughterhouse walls?

Come to think of it; who the Hell would want to use Second-Hand Towels? That's right up there with buying used undergarments at thrift stores:

'Hey, sweet! They gots a new shipment o' threadbare knickers in! I'm buying the lot as I find 'em the most com-fee-bull!'

Are there towels they wouldn't accept as donations? Say all the terrycloth is worn off and the towel is on the sheer-side? What if the towels were used as stand-in swaddling for a mistakenly identified messiah? Wouldn't the Church want those instead as some sort of faux-Shroud-of-Turin? Or the towels have a marital hole burned through the center? Who'd want to use that for proper towel business?

Not me...that's for damn sure.

Or is there some other nefarious plot afoot?

Nevertheless, my representative from the Ragpickers Guild is getting a phone call.

(you can bet on that)

Wednesday, October 29, 2003

Brain Drain

If your mind is like a steel trap why is it that I do not hear mangled critters screaming?

Stilts will not only elevate your sights but also bring you closer to God...the God of Elongated and Modified Peg Legs, that is.

Long hair on men is a symbol of their virility and fondness for all things Kevin Sorbo.

The only purposes that undershirts have are to prevent nipple-chaffing and absorb torso excretions.

Breaking the chains of love does not involve splitting your schnoodle nor disowning your Erasure records.

If we all resided on Bizarro World Subway's food would make Jared fatter.

A flail in one's possession denotes a propensity towards Live-Action Roleplaying and not one lick of Hepness.

One unadorned tubesock makes a puppet not.

It is highly unlikely that any of the stuffed animals you had as a child possessed telepathy nor held positions of power in the unfortunately named Booger Town.

Retrieving a shaft of driftwood from Lake Superior will not grant you King Arthur-like attributes a la Excalibur and the Lady in the far as I know.

The purchase of your first toaster does not necessarily mean that you've reached The Big Time; but it will gaurantee many years of scorched bread goodness.


Tuesday, October 28, 2003


Why in the world did I spontaneously burst into song today at work?
Why did I sing aloud near the copy machine:

'Yes, we have no bananas...we have no bananas today'?

I hate bananas.

But apparently I subconsciously like this song...or I was a fruit vendor in some former life (which might explain why I hate most fruit in this one).


Just great.

Join me in few verses, eh?

There's a fruit store on our street
It's run by a Greek.
And he keeps good things to eat,
But you should hear him speak!

When you ask him anything, he never answers "no".
He just "yes"es you to death,
and as he takes your dough, he tells you...

Yes of course, we have no bananas!
We have no bananas today!

We have string beans and onions, cabBAges and scallions
And all kinds of fruit and say,
We have an old fashioned toMAHto,
A Long Island poTAHto, but

Yes! We have no bananas!
We have no bananas today!

Business got so good with him,
He wrote home to say,
Send me Pete and Nick and Jim,
I need help right away.

When he got them in the store,
There was fun you bet.
Someone asked for sparrowgrass,
And then the whole quartet all answered:

Yes, we have no bananas,
We have no bananas today!

Just try those coCOnuts
Those walnuts
And donuts
There aint many nuts like they!

We'll sell you two
Kinds of red herring,
Dog brown,
And ball bearing, but

Yes, we have no bananas;
We have no bananas todaaaay!

Dog Brown and Ball Bearing?

Well...they lost me on that one.

(channelling Eddie Cantor)

Monday, October 27, 2003 the Metro State University Math Center

A lil' tidbit overheard by The Boss today:

"I'd much rather watch Star Trek 5 than Footloose any day!"
--tutor in Math Center

Hmm...The Final Frontier or the Loggins' themed Bacon/Lithgow film?

Kirk climbing El Capitan* and teaching campfire songs to Spock before trekking (har) across the universe in search of God?


Ren dancing his way into Ariel's heart (and, presumably, pants) in a town that her Bible-Thumping father has banned music AND said hipshaking?

No question.

I'm going with Shatner and the crew.

A quest to find the Supreme Being is far better Cinema then a 'Flashdance-for-the-Boys' flick in my book.

Even if Shatz directed it

('Up yer shaft'**)

*Get it? CAPTAIN Kirk...El CAPITAN? Oh, that Willy S. is a sly screenwriter.

**okay...okay...that's from ST 3: The Search for Spock...but it is Scotty's best line Ever.

Sunday, October 26, 2003

Not my Eulogy

He was a good man and will long be remembered and missed by his family and friends.

(murmurs of agreement from the pews)

And--if I may be candid for a moment-- that sonuvagun had the biggest Jody Watley CD collection I have ever seen.

(louder murmurs supporting said statement)

I mean...Jesus Christ (pardon the blasphemy) but WHO KNEW she had THAT many recordings?!? knew he was that big a fan? Where'd he find time to listen to them all? Were they strictly for show?

(more murmurs of a questioning nature)

I guess we'll never know.

Er...ICALLDIBSONTHEBESTOF...God rest his soul.


(assorted AMENS from the pews)

Friday, October 24, 2003

Stifling your Children's Dreams

'Fer once in yer shirt gourd-fear-sakin' life, listen tah me! You can't beat no Gorgon when youse growed ups. It ain't in yer jeans.'

'Than I shall be Loki the Trickster, dear father. HA HA HA!'

'Yer deaf-eye-antz is tribblin' and 'spect tah have a feud words wif yer mudder.'

'Tut, tut, tut, my sweet sweet patriarch; twas her idea to see me aspire to Mythological Grandeur. If you cannot respect her's and my choices than I MUST defy you.'

'Yer sufferin' from sum sirius Edible Complexes...'


Thursday, October 23, 2003

High School Chemistry Fails to Stick for Some

I work at a college and--seeing that I am a charitable individual and like to share my knowledge with the uninformed-- I give you the following chestnut of wisdom that will help clarify at least One Student's recent inquiry:

Cranium is not on the Periodic Table of the is on the top of your neck just north of your slavering maw.*

This public service announcement provided to you by TIP.

*Mouth...not some sort of facial matriarch (whatever the hell that would mean). OH...and slavering does not mean toiling.

Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Excerpt from my screenplay 'Georgia or Georgia?'

Who wants to kiss the Last American Cosmonaut?

Isn't that a contradiction? Cosmonauts are the Russian equivalent of Astronauts, y'know?

Tsk...Tsk...why nit-pick over terms? Yuri here just wants some play, ya racist.

Erm...does he always go around in that...uhm...Spacesuit?

Yes. He's horribly deformed underneath, what with the hunch and all...the duds make him look cool, interstellar and-- you must admit-- oh-so-kissable.

(Kaff) Well, ya got me on that one.



Monday, October 20, 2003

Souvenirs from the Vatican

As strange as it might sound, I met a fellow today that just got back from the Beatification of Mother Teresa ceremonial Hoo-Hah thrown on Sunday by his Papal-Goodness and his frocked com-Padres (har). He had lots of good things to say about the Rite and the amassed throng of Catho-holic onlookers but I took special interest in the footwear he was sporting.

Me: Are those new shoes? I don't think I've ever seen a pair like that.

Fellow: Yep...picked them up from a vendor working the 'Teresa Show' on Sunday. According to the Loafer-Monger, this particular brand-- sanctioned by JP2 himself-- will help you run faster, kick shittier (his words), walk on water and so on. They have what folk in 'the business' call Jes-U-Soles! If I were to kick you in the ass right now it'd be blessed and everything!

Me: I'll pass.

Fellow: It's your


Sunday, October 19, 2003

While on the topic of Hoboes...

Today at the local pharmacy I happened upon a Hallmark card directed to members of the Hobo Community; it read as follows:

I marvel at your stains
Your panhandling is devine
That stogie on a toothpick--
I'd smoke it anytime

Now that is beautiful.

The verse was accompanied with a cute lil' transient cartoon character holding a bindlestick and the abovementioned stubby and pierced cigar. Since it was created by our friends at Hallmark they did not include wavering stinklines or a smattering of cartoon flies on or about his person...which I think was a nice touch.


Friday, October 17, 2003

Beverage Warning
Learn from my Mistakes

The next time you are at your favorite watering hole and the barkeep asks you if you want to try a Hobo Bodyshot you may first want to question why it is he/she is putting on a rain poncho, fetching a turkey baster and a jug of Listerine and asking you to meet him/her out behind the bar in a few minutes. As it turns out this is not a mixed drink at all, tastes terrible and the shot-process will roust and anger-up even the most unconscious and inebriated vagrant.*


*As shown by the 'murder of bums' utilized by this exercise in 'wino-tasting.'

Wednesday, October 15, 2003

Birthday Dinner with the 'Rents

My mother and I's birthdays are only 2 days apart. This year we decided to get together for a Birthday Dinner at a favorite Italian Restaurant to celebrate. It was good to see my father up and about after a recent surgical procedure that involved having accumulated fluid drained from his 'nether regions'* and, naturally, some of the conversation involved his chatting up his time before, during and after the crack Medical Staff 'tapped his Maple.'**

By proxy, my mother picked up some new terms of which had never before occupied places in her rather limited vernacular; an education that she promptly exploited by reciting rather excitedly:

Mother: You know...his thingies down there? They're called TESTICLESSCROTUMGONADS!
Me: Erm.

As if the three seperate words were, in fact, one long word.

In hindsight (snort) I prefer my father's quick-and-to-the-point 'balls' but applaud the furthering of my mother's knowledge base just into her 63rd year...even though said 'learning' meant my dad had to go under the knife.

Old Dog...New Tricks.

Happy Birthday, indeed.***


*South of the Jonathan Thomas Peninsula and North of The Black Hole of Calcutta...for our geography buffs out there.

**Which, of course, added a certain 'flavor' to our respective meals.

***Since TESTICLESSCROTUMGONADS are an important part of the procreation act, eh?

Sunday, October 12, 2003

Top Ten Things Off the Top of My Head

10. In one day I will have outlived Jesus.

9. Context is the key to any Ladle-Related Humor.

8. Changing the lyrics to The Clash's Train in Vain to 'Did you Stand by Steve' is not as funny as you might think.

7. Crayola Crayons has just turned 100 years old and I still miss Periwinkle and Burnt Umbra.

6. Adding water to most foods will not result in the creation of Gravy.

5. On average, Homo Sapiens burn through five combs a year...according to my barber.

4. Shoe Horns are Not part of any Orchestra's Brass Section.

3. Dirk Benedict's career peaked with his role as Starbuck in Battlestar Galactica.

2. Hovering sandwiches are sure signs that something is amiss in your gravitational field.

1. Did I mention the part about outliving Mister Christ in a day?

(non-Larry King-ian)

Friday, October 10, 2003

Public Bathroom Advertisement

Perhaps not the best place*to seek potential clients but I was intrigued by the following Graffiti seen recently in a local Washroom:

'For a good Rhyme call: XXX-XXX-BEAT-BOX'**

Considering the locale of the Sharpie Scribbling I'd bet that this aspiring Rap Artist certainly has 'Flow'...Lyrical and otherwise.

Best of luck to you!

(Old-School MC Blowfish fan)

*Granted I know next to nothing about the Music industry and the Hip Hop Culture...the possibility does exist that this is a suitable place to declare your availability to possible Music Producers and Agents? After all...they all eventually have to hit the head. Music Stars have been discovered in stranger ways, I'd imagine.

**However, I do feel that my measley lil' Blog is Not an appropriate place for this and I have censored the number to protect MC Anonymous.

Thursday, October 09, 2003

Trois Rois
Three Notable Roy Happenings in the last couple of Weeks

My dear friend, Roy, and his wife are vacationing in Europe (France to be exact) where he has vowed to 'swing a baguette mightily' in the vicinity of the first Parisian that cops him a 'tude and flaunt his 'frenchiness' on or about the Eiffel Tower. We're still awaiting word on the accomplishment of either of these pledges. As they've been heard to utter in the cafes about this fair country, 'Mag-nuh-FEE-Kway!'

The Roy-Half of 'Seigfried and Roy' infamy was mauled on-stage by one of the pairs patented White Tigers. Feel free to misquote Tony the Tiger's catchphrase here with a 'Roy's GGGRRREEEAAATTT!' exclamatory.

Tim Burton's Roy, the Toxic Boy, emblazoned on a long sleeved tee-shirt, was purchased by your's truly to the delight of no one in particular (including my tailor). As a fan of the book he was featured in, The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy, how could I not welcome this addition to my limited wardrobe? I like to keep myself at the forefront of the Fashion Race (kaff kaff kaff).

Coincidence or do I have too much time on my hands?

You be the Judge.*

(Mon Dieu! C'est ├ętrange)

*You'll have to supply your own puffy wig and robe ensemble as I'm fresh out after my friends and I's 'Barrister Day' at the park.

Wednesday, October 08, 2003

Mysteries of My 'Yoot' Solved!
Part One

What was the reason behind that dog-earred copy of The Thorn Birds occupying the headboard shelf of my parents' bed for years and years? Well-Thumbed* and stuffed full of lotsa bookmarks denoting (apparently) important passages within, this book made it's first appearance shortly after the Mini-Series based on it was aired on network television and was a main-stay in their sleeping quarters for most (if not all) of the Eighties**


Was it so good that my mother needed to keep it close to her body when in the Land of Nod?

Or was there some other nefarious reason for its placement and condition?

My only recollection of this tome is from the aforementioned Mini-Series which starred Richard Chamberlain as some sort of Sexed-Up Holy Man torn between his 'love' for Rachel Ward's character and God.***

That couldn't be it...could it?

Were my parents closet Doctor Kildare fans?



That couldn't be it as my father only ever watches televised news programming and C-SPAN and has never been a reader of any sort. The only Chamberlain he'd possibly be familiar with would be Neville and I'm sure he found nothing sexy about that British paper-waver.

After many years of reflection I have finally come to the conclusion that my mother favored this book as a tool towards getting her Jollies off and that my father was none-the-wiser to this fact.

What a damn weird choice in marital aids...

It could have been worse I suppose; it could have been a copy of Das Kapital that she was using in this manner...


*One might even say 'Overly-Thumbed' if you get my meaning.
**And possibly beyond that. I've not ventured near my parents' bedroom in almost 15 odd years...I don't possess the appropriate 'safari' equipment for an expedition of that sort.
***I'm pretty sure God was not an On-Screen character and was therefore not portrayed by any actor...unlike the OH GOD movies featuring the late George Burns as The All-Mighty.

Monday, October 06, 2003

Old Guy's Hypothetical

A grandfather was in today to co-sign for his granddaughter's student loan. Curious about How the loan works in the event that the student would have to withdraw due to sicknesses caught by her brood, the grandfather offered up this scenario (no joke):

'...say the children all get--say-- Whooping Cough?'

Don't hear about that much anymore...but evidently a common occurrence in his life experiences.

Perhaps his family have a genetic disposition for Whooping Cough?

I'll have to remember to ask next time, eh?


Saturday, October 04, 2003

Norwegian Log: Day Eleven
The End

With 'The Package' landing in a few hours I thought I'd wrap up this Log with a rundown of the food that has kept me going over the period of time that she has been away (also in keeping with the Food-Related themes that was weaved in and out of the past ten blogs...I must have been peckish the whole time, eh?).

Food Tally: September 24th through October 4th

Whole Pizzas consumed: One (from Ciatti's)
Sweet Peas: Two cans*
Loaves of Bread: One and 3/4s
Packs of Turkey Pepperoni: Two
Chedder Cheese: Half a block
Doritos: 3 bags (one Nacho-Flavored and two Guacamole-Flavored**)
Caesar Salads: 5 (from Damon's Restaurant)
Enchilada Dish: One whole pan
Lasagna: One whole pan
Blacked Cajun Chicken Sandwich: One (with fries at TGI Friday's)

Pretty pathetic, eh?

Anyhoo...thanks for reading and I'll see you back here tomorrow for the first of the Post-Norway Blogs.


*not to be mistaken for Swee'Pea, Popeye's ward. My cartoon baby consumption has gone way down over the years. It's a bitch picking the cel shards out from betwixt my teeth.

**Yep. Even though the first bag gave me Green Stool I had to go back to be sure that it was actually the chips doing it and not some sort of gastro-intestinal disorder. Sure as shit (har) it was them.

Friday, October 03, 2003

Norwegian Log: Day Ten
Undue Flattery delivered to your's truly whilst at Work Today

'You are one fine-looking white man.'

In the immortal words of Bill Murray (a la Caddyshack):

'So I got that goin' for me...which is nice.'

At least in accordance with this woman's assessment of my appearance today. Which is mildly amusing as I woke up late for work today and skipped out on my usual morning bathing and grooming rituals; simply threw some less-stanky clothes on, pushed my hair skyward and left in a cloud of stink lines and dust.*

To each their own...I'll take an unwarranted compliment from time-to-time.

Time now to go cruise a greasy spoon and score on some older women...utilizing this newly discovered 'beauty' of mine.

That and I'll have to remember to cut back on the showering and primping, eh?


*Think Charles Schulz's Pig-Pen with a 10 O'clock shadow and you'll have a good idea of how I looked this morning. Oh...and regular short pants.

Thursday, October 02, 2003

Norwegian Log: Day Nine (not)
Roaming Bone-Casters sans Divinations
My next Whale Time Article Previewed here first

To the person that left the chicken bone* in my front yard:

Please refrain from dumping the skeletal remains of your 'travelling' meal in my grass .

I assume the following from this discovery of mine:

You are a person in possession of a highly discerning and selective pamper and cater to your highly-tuned gustatory senses as evidenced by your choice of Fried Chicken as your 'food on the go.'


Why would you wantonly discard the remains of what was surely a feast of such grandeur that it left you breathless and pining for more when you finished with the last morsel of flesh? A repast of this nature is surely more deserving of a proper 'burial' in recognition to the taste explosion and maginficant nutriousness it imparted upon you whence the masticating you not think?**


The appearance of this chicken bone in my yard speaks volumes about--not only your your distinguished taste-- but also your shallow and self-absorbed nature. You have no regard for the poultry you stuff your stuttering and gaping maw with; just that your grumbling gullet is sated into a silent and greasy silence.

'To hell with its bones!'

'It's all about the Meat!'

'I'm the cock of the walk!'

You fling your scraps willy-nilly; a form of braggadocio:

'This former drumstick tossed into your yard is my declaration to the world that I am above the animal kingdom--even my fellow Man-- and care naught for the late beast from which my nourishment was gleaned!'

This bravura of your's will not go unpunished.

I will find out who you are and retribution shall be visited upon you and yours.


Fish Sticks.

Stinking half-eaten Fish Sticks left on your property and in your mail box. Hidden within your wife's clothes and secreted into the trunk of your vehicle. Fed-Exed to your your place of employment and soaked in the baptismal fonts of your house of worship. I'll cork your bats with them and laden your lacrosse racket with these breaded food travesties. Your blood work will come back Fish Stick Positive. You'll have the things seeping forth from your every orifice. In your morning coffee and in your thermos of soup. Leading your children into a life of crime, prostitution and snuff films. Keeping your neighbors up all night with their parties and calling 1-800-Fish-Fuck with your credit card. Stashed away in your sock drawer and under your mattress.

You'll be the God Damn 'Prince and the Fish Stick!'***

Choke on this Unending Modified-Fish Smorgasbord!

Ya see...I am NOT a man of distinguished taste.

I'm just one angry old**** sonuvabitch with a lot of free-time and a thirst for vengeance...of the Gorton's Fisherman-kind.



The reason I bring this up is that my bulldog, Roger, discovered this 'treat' last night and almost choked it down.*****

I cannot stomach (HA!) a person potentially harming my dog. a lil' more careful next time your out for a stroll and a nosh, eh?


*Specifically a Drumstick Remnant
**However, I am flattered that you considered my yard to be a fitting eternal resting place for your ex-Colonel Sanders selection. Seeing that the lawn has not been mowed since the third week of July, perhaps you thought it would remain hidden there until the Spring Thaw? Regardless, an ill choice for the bone in question.
***If you catch my Fairy Tale reference, ya well-fed roving illiterate.
****Older then you, ya whipper-snapper! Now get the Hell off my lawn, Porpy!!!

Wednesday, October 01, 2003

Norwegian Log: Day Eight
Unexpected Side Effects from Snack Food Consumption

If you've been paying attention than you are aware that the missus, 'The Package,' is outside of the country on vacation and the Dog and I have been left to our own devices (as it were). This fact led me to the grocery store* the other day in pursuit of a suitable bag of chips for my evening snack.**

There on the racks was a brand new flavor of Doritos-- Guacamole-- with blazing Green packaging to match the Hulk-ish hue of the chips themselves.

Considering that I have a fondness for Guacamole AND a weakness for Doritos*** it was a given that these chips would be coming home with me for an night of noshing.

And so the night passed into morning...and the Guacamole Doritos turned my stool green.

A green I have not seen in my own waste material since a bad bout of the runs when I was a kid.

Now THAT'S Entertainment!****

'The Package' needs to get home soon before other things go technicolor on me, eh?


* was actually a gas station.
**A snack that turned into a stand-in for my dinner.
***One of the two chinks in my armor...the other is redheads (but that's another tale for another blog). Not the worst pair of Achille's Heels to have...
****But Not of The Jam variety, if you catch my reference.
Norwegian Log: Day Seven

Banana Inquiry
(which has nothing to do with 'The Package' being abroad...but there you go)

After work today I went on a Music buying spree (something that I had not done since I was on vacation in Colorado over the Fourth and scored the newest releases from Richard Thompson and Robyn Hitchcock) and purchased the latest CDs from the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Jane's Addiction, the Dandy Warhols and David Bowie.

Not a terrible selection if I do say so myself.

Checking out I encountered an inquisitive gentleman wondering about the Banana that appears prominently on the cover of the Dandy Warhols 'Welcome to the Monkey House.'

Curious Fellow: What's going on with that banana there?
Me: Uhm...* it's 'Welcome to the Monkey House' by the Dandy Warhols...get it?... MONKEYS? BANANAS?!?
CF: Yeah...heh heh heh...monkeys like bananas.
Me: There you go!
CF: Heh...yeah.

As this fine man was perusing my purchases I decided to give HIS a once over:

Me: Ah (sigh)...I see you're picking up the new anniversary edition of SCARFACE on DVD.
CF: Yeah, man...for the extras, man...the deleted scenes and shit.
Me: So do you think the extras will make the film better?**
CF: What?
Me: Nothing. Enjoy.

It sure made my day that this guy was inquiring about the banana image and all.

(not going to fall for the banana on the album art? to mis-quote Axel Foley)

*I was uncertain if I should get into the fact that the Dandy Warhols latest album art was an homage to both the 'Velvet Underground and Nico' sleeve designed by Andy Warhol himself AND the Rolling Stones' infamous 'Sticky Fingers' zipper record cover. P'raps best that I kept Mum on it, eh?

**I have never liked SCARFACE and find it to be an overrated piece of shit. Extra scenes or whatever SPECIAL FEATURES they add will never make this a better film (IMHO).