Max-imum Auto Abuse

For why"Artsy Types" should not be allowed to purchase collectible automobiles, read this incredible story.

Correction: Incredibly upsetting story.

I remember that promotion! I recall really, really wanting to win. I wasn't sure how I was going to house and finance an entire museum, but those pesky details could be worked out afterward.

Sad to say, I was a bit of a Peter Max fan, but that was when I had no idea about any of this.
Psychedelic paint looks cute on a VW Bug, but if he touches the Polo White exterior of that 53 I'm gonna sic Zora's ghost on him...

Now, I just think of those poor tires rotting into a New York garage floor. It sure wasn't Jerry Seinfeld's building. He would have stepped in. If nothing else, to kick them out so he could have room for his Porsche collection.

I know! They should have done a Hoarders episode on Max. At least that would have been entertaining. I'd volunteer to take them to a good home. I don't know if all 36 could fit in my barn, but I'd sure give it the old college try.

As for me, I'm just awaiting the day I can join the list of very rich comedians who collect cars.

Everything I Needed to Know About Marriage...

I learned on summer break from Junior High....

Well, specifically, from all the game shows I used to watch on TV. It was the era of the game show, and my BFF and I could watch them all day. There were tons to choose from and if it got too rainy or hot to be outside, there were all these wonderful friends we could spend time with... Match Game, Password, Twenty Thousand Dollar Pyramid, Jeopardy... the list goes on.

Little did I realize how these skills could help me later in life when dealing with Al:

The Dating Game
Every question you ask will get a smart-alec reply designed to make you wonder what was so hard about the question in the first place that it can't be replied to in a straightforward manner .

The Newlywed Game
Just answer every problem with 'make whoopie'. It's the only thing written on any of his cards.

Password
Say what you mean, already. Your clue has not been accepted by my authority.

Beat the Clock
Face it. Your deadlines and his never occur in the same epoch. Get over it.

$20,000 Pyramid
Every answer is "Things that Tick Me Off". Stop them.

Wheel of Fortune
This may be the only way to get Al to do anything - make it into a puzzle: Cl--n Th G-r-g- Oh, buy a vowel already.

Jeopardy!
Phrasing what I just said in the form of a question is a waste of time. No, I did NOT say you were not going to take out the garbage. I just want it done now, without the commentary.

Hollywood Squares
Whatever you just suggested, I'm going for the block.

Let's Make a Deal
The only way anything ever gets done.

The Price is Right
The only way Al will ever see name-brand food in the house.

Family Feud
If if involves family, there's gonna be a feud.

Gong Show If only you could gong your spouse...

Triskaidekamania!!

Actual Conversation on the Eve of our Eighteenth

Me: I thought we might celebrate, so I put some champagne in the fridge.

Al: Go ahead, open it.

Me: Naaaaa... Looks like we're going to make it to our anniversary.

Of Course Al Reads this Blog...

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! 2

Excuse me, would you mind holding these socks while you do that?

If you thought May was about over, you must not own a Maytag appliance!

With hours to go left in the month, the washing machine has decided the Spin cycle is just too much effort. Why not just leave all those heavy soggy clothes in a heap at the bottom of the drum? I mean, who's going to do anything about it? The Maytag Repairman? Ha ha ha ha.

Me: The washer is broke!!

Al: (Settling down on couch, nice and comfy) Bring me the manual. I want to read the trouble shooting guide.

Me: (returning with huge folder of mockumentation) It says here, "If the drum fails to spin, congratulations, you have bought a Maytag."

******** 20 minutes later **********************************************

Al reclines on couch, working Sudoku without a care in the world...

Me: Well if the back panel of the washer looks like a 9 X 9 grid, I guess we're all set...

Back With Some Posts

Sorry I haven't posted in so long - a certain somebody has been tying up the computer as of late. That would be AL, the same guy who left two used Kleenexes on the desk here. Yuck. Between work projects and my yet-to-be-delivered Christmas gift of digital recording of the TV on our PC, Al has had the computer in use the past few weekends. I decided to take a day off work and see if I can catch up around here a bit.

Here's something sad: Watched Super eat himself to death yesterday. It was awful. I had moved him to a larger tank with two female Bettas. Usually, I wouldn't keep a male in with the females, as they could get aggressive and pick on them to the point of killing them, but Super was not the most robust fish as of late, and seemed mild enough to get along.

For about a week, things went swimmingly. No problems, everyone happy. Then for some reason I gave out the pelleted food for a change of pace. Three fish, four or five pellets. Simple. Until Super decided he had to eat ALL the pellets, all at once. Why? Suddenly some competition thing kick in? Afraid he wouldn't get anything to eat? I never noticed a problem with the flakes. Everyone seemed to get their share. Strange. The directions said "Do not feed more than fish will eat in two minutes". It said nothing about "Fish will eat to bursting. Do not exceed one pellet." Perhaps I have a lawsuit?

About thirty seconds later, Super hit the bottom of the bowl and passed away. Weird. The females don't act like this at all...

#1: Oh, look, food at the surface.
#2 You go ahead, I'm watching my scales.
#1 No, really, you first. These fins make me look fat.
#2 Is that a low-carb pellet? I'll wait for a flake.
#1 I think it's shrimp, but where's the sauce?

How to Survive the Recession

Clean out your garage!! (Click here to read about a $4 million-dollar-barn-find)

Tick Tick Tick!

Maya Calendar - Countdown 2012

Stop the Insanity!

Now, before I come over there and unplug it myself!

I'm talking about the house on the highway. You know, the five acre parcel of Christmas lights as far as the eye can see? The ones keeping Santa's reindeer up at night?

Ok, They're pretty good about not lighting them up after January*, but to start November 5th? Are they nuts???

Although, I must admit, this year's addition of the animated roof display was a nice touch.

*yet large plastic snowmen, etc. aren't taken back inside until mid-May.

Last Night At My House

I'm So Going to Do This

ASHLAND, Oregon (AP) -- Friends of Chet Fitch may be surprised to be getting holiday cards from him this year.

Patty Dean shows a greeting card that friend Chet Fitch asked her to send on his behalf after he died.

He died in October at the age of 88.

But for years, the Oregon man -- who was known for his sense of humor -- had been planning one final joke, with the help of his barber.

He'd written Christmas cards to his friends and gave them to barber Patty Dean for mailing after he died. He kept the mailing list updated, and gave her more money when postal rates went up.

Dean tells an Ashland, Oregon, newspaper (the Daily Tidings) that a few months ago, Fitch told her that she'd probably be able to mail the cards this year. He died a week later.

The cards carry a return address of "Heaven."

In them, Fitch wrote, "I asked Big Guy if I could sneak back and send some cards" -- and that "Big Guy" finally agreed. He said, "Wish I could tell you about things here but words cannot explain."

He concluded, "I'll probably be seeing you -- some sooner than you think" -- and signed it, "Wishing you a very Merry Christmas. Chet Fitch."

Send Food!

Just got PhotoShop installed!!

Then spent four hours playing with it, trying to create my annual Christmas card opus. I see myself becoming a Dorian Grey-type figure, holing up in my office with a photograph of myself I try to photoshop into perfection…

I’ll do a tutorial next, honest.

Why I Hate America

As mentioned before, I’ve really procrastinated about getting a passport. For, oh, about, 32 years. Since I’ve never gone anywhere or done anything – in short “No Life” – it’s never been an issue. Just an “I really should” and “someday I’ll…”. Yeah. Right. Whatever.

So when all the hoopla of “Now You Really Need One or We Won’t let You Back in from Canada*” came up, I thought I really should get around to it. Sometime. Whenever.

First, I got the forms. Back in December, I think. Went to my local post office and picked them up easily. Found out that the post office in next town over would take the completed application, as would the courthouse. I’m on my way!

Fortunately they were festooned with obnoxious orange headers which made them easy to spot as they spent the next six months moving from ‘to do’ pile to ‘just make a neat stack’ pile to ‘I really need to get to this pile’.

Read forms. Filled out simple questions. Argued with Mr. Right about how Hazel is Light Brown, and his eyes are NOT Light Brown, not even close, just put down Blue, damnit! BECAUSE I SAID SO!!!

Shuffle papers.

Applied to get a ‘certified’ copy of my birth certificate. Ranted about how many people can’t prove they are in this country legally, yet my legitimacy is questioned to the tune of $17. Wait another week.

Received proof that I am indeed alive. Lamented fact that there is no fee to pay in order to ‘Get A Life’, as this would be far more useful.

Had Al take my picture. Worried I wouldn’t look ‘innocent’ enough for customs. Worried when photo is flashed on nightly news next to phrase Suspected Al Qaida Operative the girls from High School will say, “Well she certainly has put on some weight!” before getting to: “I always knew she would amount to no good”.

Spent an afternoon discovering there is no way to resize a photo with the crappy software that came with the computer, and figured the next 20 minutes is not the time to try Photoshop out for the first time. Decided that will be my next Procrastination Project.
Wondered if the whole 2” X 2” thing was some plot to keep people from doing their own photos so they could charge $6 for an ugly DMV photo.

Went to appointed post office after work. Big signs greeted me, “Now Open Until 7 p.m.”

Stood in line. Stood. Stood. Wondered why these idiots haven’t learned the joys of on-line bill pay. Stood. Stood. Don’t really care about your kid at college. If he can’t figure out how to pick up his mail, is he really college material? Stood.

“Hi, I’m here for the passport…”

“I’m sorry. We only do passports until 4:30 p.m. Next!!”

Excuse me? Only to 4:30? How did I miss that on your big sign? Oh, wait, IT WASN’T THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This whole passport scam is working like a charm! Now I WANT to leave the country. Forever!!!! Uncle Sam can let some third world blogger come in and do my complaining for pennies on the dollar. I should have asked for some old Priority Mail Boxes. They look pretty waxy. Just give me a shove towards Cuba, I bet Fidel would love to see me. He wouldn’t ask for no stinkin’ passport…



*You know, NASCAR started due to some moonshiners trying to out run the law. I’ve always thought Mr. Right would be a prime candidate for being a prescription drug runner for old people…

Only My Mother

See? Room looks better already.

Me: Wow, Al installed the new fan in our office! It's really nice, makes a huge difference.

Mom: Oh, wasn't that dangerous, working with the electricity?

Me: What's the big deal? There were two wires. He had a 50-50 chance.

They Can Put a Man on the Moon...

But they can't make him phone home.

Me: Where have you been?

Al: At my Mom's.

Me: Why didn't you call?
(Chime sound: be-boo-be-baa)

Al: I Oooh! (squinting at tiny screen) My "Sudoku of the Day" just arrived. Did you say something?



Funny. Al has the new Moto Q that can aim the Hubble telescope from his palm, but it lacks the "call wife" feature. Oh, wait, that was an additional $9.99 per month. Never mind.

See You Next (geta) Life

BEIJING (AFP) - Tibetan living Buddhas are no longer allowed to be reincarnated without permission from the atheist Chinese government, state media reported Friday.

The new rules are "an important move to institutionalise the management of reincarnation of living Buddhas," the Xinhua news agency said.
According to the regulations, which take effect on September 1, all reincarnation applications must be submitted to religious affairs officials for approval, Xinhua said.

Oh, man, and I've been procrastinating about filling out my Passport paperwork...

Burstin' With Blogs

Sorry I haven't posted in, like, forever. I have great material to share, but no time to post (weather is much too nice out, etc.) I promise to make more of an effort. Really.

Haiku – Doku

Pen poised for action,
Digits menace within grid;
Inky Doku win!

Don’t Link to This!

"Make each chapter no longer than four pages, the average American has A.D.D."

Just wasted 400-plus pages of my life reading The Alexandria Link by Steve Berry. I don’t want to say the book was bad, just very, very average.

Now, Berry has written these little historical adventure-mysteries before, so I can’t blame him. I blame editors that jump on the “if you liked the Da Vinci Code, you’ll love this!” bandwagon. I mean, how many “the world would explode in a power keg if this religious tidbit got out!” stories can the public stomach?

And to the reviewers who claimed AL was a ‘more literary rendition’, I say, no! It wasn’t! It wasn’t any better written, and certainly had just as little character development. Even I figured out on page 84 the watch was a transmitter. C’mon!

Okay, so I didn’t get as upset as Orson Scott Card did. I didn’t take the politics quite that seriously. That’s not my axe to grind here. I just want to say no matter how many biblical bombshells you drop, it won’t make one iota of difference. Faith is belief in the presence of proof to the contrary! Jesus married? A father? Oh, no. The shroud of Turin a fake? Absolutely not. Joseph Smith a nutcase? L. Ron Hubbard a huckster? Oh, no.

So who cares where the promised land is? All I know is where the fighting is, and that’s everywhere. Because hate has no boundaries. And I don’t have Steve Barry’s agent, so my loss.

In the “Well, at least that book HAD a plot” department: I also read Remainder by Tom McCarthy.

Anyone who would care to explain the book to me, please feel free. Am I some kind of intellectual dwarf who didn’t get that it was “A masterpiece waiting to happen – again and again and again” as 3 AM Magazine said on the back cover? Or do I just like to feel something I’ve read is more than a creative writing assignment? Is this what is known as an ‘experimental novel’? If so, please don’t experiment on me.

This would have made a better short story. As a novel, it was tedious. The writing was good, but I knew it was somehow not going to ‘pay off’ in way I would appreciate; so I found myself skimming pages, bored with the narrator’s obsession. Or mental illness. Or genius. Or whatever.

At some point McCarthy just lost me. I stopped caring, began just flying ahead to get to some ‘shocker’ ending… He’s dreaming – He’s dead – He’s in a coma – He’s a woman…

Silly me. I won’t attempt a novel because I have ‘nothing to say’. I don’t have a beginning, middle and an end. I don’t have plausible characters with rich inner lives and disturbing pasts. No uncanny perception as to the intimate thoughts of a hit man, homeless woman or ten-year-old abuse victim. So I sit silently. Blogging, as that is the only format I ‘know’ – the diary. The personal observation. (Received Leaves of Grass as a gift – took me a whole ten seconds to figure out why that’s the perfect tome for the self-centered writer)

How wrong I am. All I need is a typewriter and the fortitude to produce 200 pages. Let some editor decide how they should be collated. If my first book sells, I won’t even need an editor any more. Worked for Joseph Heller and Naked Lunch guy.

Why not me?