-I have never, in my life, watched an episode of Star Trek in any of its incarnations, nor have I seen any of the movies. This came up at the bachelor party over the weekend and made some of my friends very upset.
This weekend is our annual National Ski Patrol first aid refresher/chairlift evacuation drill/CPR recertification. It's always the last weekend of September. This is usually when my thoughts turn to the white stuff and the anticipation of another ski season.
I love fall.
From a blogging standpoint, this is probably incredibly hacky and perhaps a bit lame, but I seldom have the captive female audience that I do here. The reasons for why I want to know may or may not be revealed in the future. My male readers are welcome to reply as well.
This is the kind of shit my parents put me through as an infant. I can just hear them. "Quick, get the camera and I'll put the bird on his head! It'll be hilarious! OK, now what? How about the plunger? Yeah, good one!"
While in Minneapolis, I had something strange occur. I'm sitting on the toilet, reading the paper. I do my business and wipe up. I look down in the bowl prior to flushing and there is no turd. Where the hell did it go? I knew something came out. I felt it. I stoop down to see if it's hiding towards the back. Not a trace. Now, as an architect, I'm somewhat familiar with the anatomy of a toilet. I know that poop would have had to swim uphill in order to be out of my view. Has this ever happened to anyone? Maybe toilets in Minnesota have some chemical in them that eradicates poop on contact.
I haven't done one of these in a while, so here goes. For those of you that liked movies like "Baraka" and "Winged Migration", "Microcosmos" should be right up your alley. It is all about the insect world. I can't recall if there is any narration, but if there is, it's minimal. The photography is phenomenal with extreme close-ups and time lapse. Some of it left me wondering how the fuck they ever captured it on film. It is fluid and is divided into various themes (hunting, building, fucking, etc.). If you're into National Geographic or the Discovery Channel, you'll like this film. In fact, describing it has inspired me to add it to my Netflix list for the second time. Good shit.
Video HERE in case you missed it.
Thanks for your patience, gentle reader. Sorry to keep you waiting with more goodies. After this weekend I have tons of blog ideas I'll be cultivating, but it's a case of overload right now. I have to get organized.
Every now and then I check the Fox News website. I know, I know, they're evil. I like to see what they're cooking up. At 2:00 Wed., 9/20/06, the top headline read "Chavez: U.S. Empire 'Will be finished in near future'. Venezuelan boss calls President Bush 'the devil'" accompanied by the picture above. Notice the book he's holding. It's "Hegemony or Survival: America's Quest for Global Dominance", by Noam Chomsky. I have read Chomsky and seen him in interviews and debates. He's a smart cookie. This is the only time you're going to see Chomsky's name on Fox News. God knows they'd never interview him. He'd rip them apart. Fox knows what they're doing here. They didn't have to use a picture of him holding this book. They're saying to their idiot audience, "Hey, look, this madman is reading Chomsky. You don't want to read the same things as him, do you? He called our president 'the devil'." Man, I sure do love the anti-intellectualism in this country. Fuck.
At some point during high school my friends came under the impression that I was obsessed with smelt. We were (and are) strange people so it didn't strike me as unusual at the time. They would kid me about it. I have no idea why. It is a mystery just like how I got my nickname. To this day I have never fished for smelt, eaten smelt, or seen a smelt in person. I don't even say, "Whoever smelt it, dealt it." I decided not to fight this weird label and instead embraced it. I pretended that smelt were the greatest creatures on the planet. In my creative writing class I even did a series of smelt poetry. I can only remember one:
I'll be in Minneapolis this weekend for a bachelor party. I haven't been there in a while. Does anybody know if there is anything to do besides going to see the giant spoon?
Dude, it's time for a break, don't you think? Aren't you tired? Aren't you sick of everyone asking questions and giving you a hard time? You're looking haggard and the liver spots are increasing exponentially.
Michigan is a fucked up state. It actually looks like two states which can lead to confusion. I tell people I'm from Northern Michigan. Usually they think I mean the Upper Pennisula. After all, it's the furthest north. We Michiganders (seriously what we're called) tend to separate the Upper Peninsula (or "U.P.") geographically from the rest of the state, or Lower Peninsula. The U.P., which at one time wanted to be its own state called "Superior", is heavily populated with Finnish people who love saunas, ice fishing, and snowmobiling. We in Northern Lower Michigan are a bit more cultured. We love saunas, ice fishing, and snowmobiling, but we eat wine and cheese after each. A handy way to understand where I live is to put your left hand face down. I'm right around your ring finger's fingernail.
When I was younger we used to play a game on my block called "Running Bases". In retrospect, it was a pretty stupid game, but I remember playing it a lot. The rules were simple. There were two bases. Two people would throw a ball (usually a tennis or whiffle ball, but occassionally a baseball) back and forth while the other kids would try and run between the bases without being tagged. The ballsier kids would try and run back and forth as much as possible. The lamer kids would wait until there was a bad throw and then run. There was always some nerd who would camp out on one of the bases with their arms crossed and when the "thrower" at his base would throw, he'd take his foot off the base and then quickly put it back when the ball was thrown back. There wasn't any real point to the game other than to expend energy. My question is whether this was a game we only played in my neighborhood (Frank, Phil, and Grant-did you guys play this?). Do people outside of the midwest remember playing a game like this or am I just adding to the mounting list of evidence that midwesterners are hayseeds?
Henceforth, I shall cease to refer to you as "Chachi" and instead refer to you as "Bob Loblaw", one of the greatest television names ever invented.
One of the things I've come to like about this blogging business is the unpredictability of it. I just never know what will hit and what will miss. Like, I thought the Brooke Shields nose-probe photos would garner a greater response. On the other hand, I had no idea my first "Perfect Day" post would be met with such adulation, despite the charges of ulterior motives from one reader (*cough*Vikki). If you ladies had any idea what a jamoke I am (Frank, back me up) when it comes to wooing women, you'd understand what an ego boost you gave me with your comments. I've heard some men referred to as "players". I represent their polar opposite. Thanks to you all, I've finally worked up the nerve to ask out this woman I've seen around town. She works at the sewage treatment plant in Boyne City. Here's a picture for all you busybodies. Keep your finger's crossed for me! This could be the one!
There aren't too many things that get my competitive juices flowing. The board game Sorry! is one of them. I rarely play it, but when I do, look out. Usually it gets dragged out during the holidays at my house. It seems benign enough - pick cards and move your pieces around the board until they are all in your "goal". However, the creators knew the hook to this game would be the ability to fuck with the other players. The other facet is that you are often forced to decide which opponent to screw over. Sometimes it can be strategic, other times it can be based purely on revenge. I also like that the games aren't necessarily over quickly. That way, any deep-seeded resentment that has been buried for years between opponents has a chance to bubble to the surface and be confronted openly. It can be very cathartic.
