A Splash of Lime

Labels Logos and Lea

2007-03-06T17:56:00.000-08:00

I don't have too much in the way of funny or important things to say, but I do have some good pics to show.

I just finished a brochure for a manufacturer of Chef apparel. Not a big one...just an 8 pager. As I was looking at all these chef coats, I said to myself "how cool would it be to have your own personalized chef coat and hat to surprise friends with at your next dinner party?" As it turns out...I can order just one coat. So I did.

A coworker of mine who runs a bit on the hefty side has always talked about opening his own diner and calling it "chubby's". Thats just too good a logo opportunity to pass up.

Logos are below.

Anyone recognize the body for chubby? Times up! It's the Stay-Puf marshmallow man from Ghostbusters! The head is my coworker Paul and I must say, it's the spittin image of him. Amazing what illustrator and photoshop can do with a few clicks 'cause god knows I can't draw to save my life.

I probably won't show these off at the PhotoshopWorld Conference which I'm going to in a month but hey...they can't all be masterpieces. The conference is in Boston this year, a place I've never been...so if any of you bloggers out there know of some good spots to hit for cocktails/eats/theater/whatever feel free to throw your 2 cents in the comment box.

The newest addition to the family is doing splendidly. As you can see, she likes to sleep.

A friend of mine gave the lucky parents a case of cabernet as a congrats gift.....here's the label I did to put on the bottles. They came out really nicely.

Finally...a work in progress....initially the cat was a few feet away at the end of the couch and it was a photo taken in broad daylight...still not sure what else is happening with this one but it's coming along.

Thats all the news thats fit for print. Pics to come of my actual chef outfit once the stitching is done!

Ciao.
J

Princess Lea

2007-02-17T04:07:00.000-08:00

I've never had kids of my own. It wasn't a conscious choice. I actually love kids. Circumstances just never allowed the opportunity to present itself. In lieu of having my own kids, I have, over the years, embraced the various roles of cool uncle, soccer coach, mom's nice boyfriend, babysitter and a variety of other roles with enthusiasm and glee. It helps to enjoy firecrackers and paper airplanes and whoppee cushions and board games as much as my counterparts who are 3 decades younger than me.

A new role was added to my list yesterday. Grandpa. (personally I'm lobbying for Poppy as opposed to grandpa, since I was informed that Big Daddy G was not an acceptable substitute for the more "normal" grandparent monikers.)

Yesterday was also the first time I got to experience the whole hospital waiting room thing and seing a baby right after it's born. Boy....thats some heady stuff. And it wasn't even my kid. Cheryl is bouncing off the ceilings with joy and it was quite a day all around.

So....ladies and gentlemen...without further adieu...I give you Lea, Lea and mom, and Lea and grandma.

6 lbs, 14 oz. 11:58 a.m. 2/16/07

Pretty darn adorable heh?

Busy indeed!

2007-01-25T08:36:00.000-08:00

Lotta lotta stuff happening here these days and once again I am remiss in posting. However, since Writermom called me "His Excellency" in keeping with my new name, I thought I would take the time to rant about all the stuff I've got going on.

I've just finished the latest mag and am proud to say that I actually had time to remove all the hyphens before it went to press. I have hyphen issues. I love ellipses...don't ask me why cause I have no idea. From an economies of movement perspective it makes much more sense to hyphenate while typing, but while reading I like the way the ellipse connects the dots for me. Get it...dots! God, sometimes I slay myself.

I became a great uncle last month.

I turn 43 in a couple of days. Is this too young to be a great uncle?

Cheryl's daughter is due at any time which makes me a grandfather (kinda, since we're not married). We now have a Pack-n-play in the spare room upstairs. A Pack-n-Plays is a portable crib and they now come with a little sound machine that hooks to the side of it and plays nature noises. The little sound machine also has an MP3 jack, which means I've gotta start making baby playlists. And we have a new Ikea rocking chair for when the baby wakes up in the middle of the night. Apparently Laz-y-Boy chairs are not considered rockers and are also eye-sores and take up too much room so an Ikea rocker it is. Nevermind the fact that once baby girl junior is born and grown-up a little the Ikea rocker won't be the most comfortable thing in the world if you have to sit in it for an ENTIRE football game.

Speaking of marriage...the date is set. June 22 in North Carolina (Raleigh-Durham area) with a small group of family, and then off to Topsail Island to impersonate a pasty white, fat tourist lounging on the beach.

Did I just say impersonate? Nevermind.

Did I say fat? O.k...so maybe I am using my quitting smoking as an excuse to have a few bon bons, However, I can assure you the back of my neck does not resemble a package of hot-dogs and I'm not freebasing ham.

So.....between work and home based work and tickets and reservations and baby stuff, I've been busier than a two-peckered billy goat but I'm happier than a skeeter in a blood bank.

I'm off to Windsor tomorrow to spend the weekend:

a) celebrating the passing of another year of my life
b) taking the casino of all their money
c) trying out this groovy italian place I've wanted to try for a bit
d) all the above.

Oh...and by the way....I did my celebrity look-a-like thing that you've all been doing.

Jeb-Bush my ass. Josh Groban my ass. Michael Buble my ass. WTF...Jeb Bush!!!!

I'm bald, democrat, and have facial hair. is it my nose?

I don't wanna talk about it anymore.

Please use my full name when addressing me

2006-12-29T07:58:00.000-08:00

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:
His Excellency Jonathan the Mad of Fiddlehope in the Marsh
Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

I'm international!

2006-12-25T06:49:00.000-08:00

My secret santa gift came from a neighbor to the north! from another country! I'm international baby!

I got my secret santa package in the mail 2 days ago and like a good little do-bee, I waited until this morning to open it.

I got me some new tunes! Specifically, an awesome mix of songs ranging from Bob Dylan to Ben Harber to Sam Cooke to Ray Charles to Procol Harum with a bunch of others thrown in. Secret Santa....you've got some damn fine taste in music.

The disc went into the kitchen cd player and accompanied Cheryl and I as we made our christmas breakfast. We both got our groove on over eggs, hash browns, coffee and o.j.

Thanks you thank you thank you and a joyous holiday season to you and yours.

P.S...

Can you send me the track list? there are a couple of songs on there that I wasn't familiar with and I want (need) to know who they are!

Thanks again and Merry Christmas!
Jonathan

STILL WONDERING

2006-12-19T18:19:00.000-08:00

We had a discussion this year about Christmas. About how much we spend on each other and how much we wanted to spend this year and so on and so forth. We decided to cut the amount that we spend on each other in half this year and take that money and spend it on gifts for a needy family. Through a social worker we know we were put in touch with the person who would be facilitating this. Our family was a single mother and her 6 year old daughter. When you talk to the case worker, they ask you how much you are planning on spending. We told her and she suggested a two person family.

Then we received a list of things that the mother had suggested as gift ideas.

The list was certainly reasonable. Almost spartan. Both mom and daughter liked books. Warm clothes and shoes were on the list. Flash cards and educational materials for the daughter were on the list. Pajamas were on the list. Baby doll. Candle. Blue Jeans. Sweater. A datebook.

There is no indication as to color preference for clothes or anything like that. You get sizes and thats it. Also suggested by the agency were things that are not gifts, but are also not covered by food stamps. Household cleaning supplies. Toilet Paper. Soap. Etc.

So we shopped. We went to a department store and scored huge on their 50% off sale, then we went to Meijer and got more stuff, but the money we had earmarked went too quickly and we decided to increase our amount and buy some more stuff. So we did. The only time we wished we knew what race the people were was when we were buying the doll. I don't know why but this seemed important to me. Do black girls like white dolls? Do white girls like black dolls? Do they care? Am I obsessing on this one issue? We got a white doll. Turns out we would have been wrong with black or with white.

When we got home from shopping the phone was ringing. It was my parents. Briefly, you should know that for years now, Christmas has not been about gifts in my family. All the adults have a cap of $15.00 and we do the whole "white elephant" thing. Except it's not really a white elephant thing because the gifts are all pretty cool and well thought out. Anyway, I had mentioned to my parents that we had just returned from shopping for this family. They thought this sounded great and asked if they could send us a check to help out. I said sure, and a few days later a check arrived in the mail. At the same time, Cheryl's parents also decided that they would like to contribute as well.

So we went shopping again. After all was said and done, I think we got everything on the list plus a gas card. The only thing that was left was to drop the gifts off.

The drive out to their house was interesting. We didn't really know what to expect. Would they be nice? Would they be rude? What would the house be like?

The social worker had somehow screwed up and gave us the wrong time to show up. When we arrived at 6:45 p.m., the mother was sleeping because she works 3rd shift somewhere. I asked if we could drop the gifts off and the woman who answered the door insisted that she go wake the mom up because she was sure that she would want to thank us. I protested, but it was clear that she would be awakened.

A very young woman came to greet us as we were unloading our bags. Even though she was obviously very sleepy she was clearly surprised and happy and gave us both a big hug and thanks before we left.

As we were driving home and talking, I realized that I had a burning desire to know more about the family, the household, the other people. Who owned the cars in the driveway? How many people lived in the house? Would the gifts go to good use. Would they go to the people we had shopped for? What did the little girl look like? And so on. I realized several things simultaneously on that drive home. One: I would probably never have any contact with these people, Two: what the girl looked like and who the other people in the house were and all those other things were none of my business and Three: it's really about the act of giving.

And I know it's none of my business.

But I still wonder.

MASSIVE CHANGE

2006-11-29T09:51:00.000-08:00

After Thanksgiving I high-tailed it to Chicago to rub elbows with 80 million shoppers while getting away from it all. A few things that I brought back with me this time:

1. The Hotel Allegro is a fun, unique place and you can get it on priceline for cheap (by chciago standards anyway).

2. State St. is no Michigan Avenue but it's still really cool.

3. If you're watching them shoot fireworks off the city hall roof after the lighting of the big tree be sure to watch out for errant explosions from the fireworks that accidentally shoot down instead of up.

4. Massive Change is about the coolest exhibit I've ever seen at the contemporary museum of art.

Regarding #4: If you cannot see the exhibit which ends December 31, then go to the website instead and do a little reading. I am pretty sure we all do at least a little recycling, turn off lights when we leave a room and try not to dump our used motor oil in the local pond but this is oh-so-different than the YOU can make difference spiel. It's YOU and ME and WE, and it's ART and BUSINESS and HOME and AWAY. It's a global train and we better get on it before it's too late.

WWW.MASSIVECHANGE.COM

Go there.

Do it.

Do it now.

P.S. Buy the book. It's great

Rethinking Religion

2006-10-10T11:19:00.000-07:00

I was born and raised a catholic, and like a lot of folks, I quit when I grew up. (no offense to anyone out there who's still practicing...it's just not my cup-o-tea and I like to wisecrack every so often).

Kent county Michigan, which is my county of residence, has an INSANE number of churches. We even have a drive-in church. Seriously. It's called the Woodland Drive-in Church, where you get to worship from your car. Which redefines "Holy-Roller" in my humble opinion, not to mention the fact that my most fond memories of drive-ins conflict (I'm just guessing here) with whatever sermon du-jour is happening at the Woodland Drive-In.

Their advertisements in local magazines show a sideview mirror of a car, and Jesus is all you can see in the mirror except for...you guessed it...the message: "objects in mirror are closer than they appear". All I can say is, if I'm going in reverse when I see that, I'm going to seriously freak out.

Now then, since we have so many churches in Grand Rapids and Kent County, our local paper, the Grand Rapids Press, has a daily religion section. It's usually about 3 times as thick as the World events section, 10 times thicker than the small amount of paper they devote to anything liberal or democratic, and about the same size as the amount of coverage given to our fearless "Dick/Karl/Donald/oh hell call me Dubya" leader. I usually don't get to the religion section that often, but an article on the front page of it a couple of days ago caught my eye.

Apparently, thanks to an organization that is shoving lots of religion down young folks' throats, Jesus has a profile on MySpace.com. He's 33, single, a carpenter, and get this....one of his favorite movies is "The Life of Brian"

So I'm rethinking religion these days. I mean, if JC is really back in town, and it turns out he's a Monty Python fan, I guess I've been wrong all these years. Nudge nudge, poke poke, say no more.

WHEN THE GOING GETS WEIRD, THE WEIRD TURN PRO

2006-10-06T10:40:00.000-07:00

If you've read some of my previous posts, you know that I'm a big Hunter S. Thompson fan..hence the title of this post.

Things seem to be getting more and more weird here in Michigan, especially as the race for governor heats up. It's a scary thing in my opinion. Anyway, I'm not going to get on my political soapbox this morning....I'm going to stick to the subject of this post. Thats why I want you all, dems, republicans, independents, to go visit Kinky Friedmans website and check out his online store. He's truly a weird turned pro. My kinda guy.

Its www.kinkyfriedman.com

I first learned of Kinky Friedman when a friend gave me one of his books. Years ago. He's a good mystery writer. The bio on the back cover led me to his banc
"Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys". Damn, that just cracks my sh*t up.

Anyhooo....now he's running for Governor of Texas. I seriously doubt he's gonna win, but the guy has some fantastic campaign schwag at his website. Talking action figures, great t-shirts, bumperstickers...you name it. And lets face it...with a name like Kinky, you're bound to have a few good slogans. If I lived in Texas, I would vote Kinky just for a few years of hilarity with slogans and ads and such.

He ain't kinky...he's my governor. Awesome.

I'll leave you with the top ten reasons to vote Kinky (from his brochure). I've added my own #11

1) "MY ONLY SPECIAL INTEREST GROUP IS THE PEOPLE OF TEXAS."
Without a political party to appease or lobbyists to pay back, Kinky will answer only to the people of Texas.

2) WHAT'''S WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE?
Although the Republican and Democrat candidates spent $100 million in the last governor's race (for a job that pays $100,000 a year!), less than a third of eligible voters showed up at the polls. Texans didn't die at the Alamo for that.

3) PUT TEACHERS IN CHARGE OF EDUCATION!
They do our most important job, yet teachers in Texas get paid over $6,000 a year less than the national average. Kinky will boot the career desk jockeys out of the education system, put teachers in charge at every level, and end the practice of ‘teaching to a test' – one that gets dumber every year!

4) KEEP OUR KIDS SAFE.
Texas prisons are filled with drug addicts who are sick, not criminals. Let's get them into treatment and out of prison, making room to lock up murderers and sexual predators for the rest of their lives.

5) IF YOU'RE BORN POOR, DON'T GET SICK IN TEXAS.
Only one in five children has health insurance in Texas. If the best test of government and society is how it treats its poorest citizens, Texas is failing badly.

6) FREEDOM OF SPEECH AND FREEDOM OF RELIGION.
Political correctness has become stifling in Texas. Kinky wants to "de-wussify" Texas. People ought to be able to wish each other "Merry Christmas" if they want to. The Ten Commandments shouldn't be reduced to "The Ten Suggestions." And a man (or a woman) ought to be able to light a cigar once in awhile.

7) MAKE TEXAS AN INTERNATIONAL LEADER IN THE EMERGING RENEWABLE ENERGY INDUSTRY.
Renewable energy is becoming one of the world's biggest growth industries, and only 0.7% of Texas' energy comes from renewable energy. Using proven technologies like biodiesel, (fuel you can grow!) we can expand Texas' economy, create jobs, and help get America off the "Saudi oil merry-go-round".

8) THE TWO-PARTY SYSTEM IS BROKEN.
The current governor isn't getting it done. The Democrats and Republicans in the Legislature aren't getting it done. If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, Texas is plumb crazy.

9) THE BEST PEOPLE GET THE JOB.
With no political party demanding patronage jobs for party hacks, Kinky will hire the most qualified person for every job in his administration. Then he'll get out of their way so they can do their jobs – and make state government really work for the people of Texas.

10) IT'S TIME FOR TEXAS TO DECLARE INDEPENDENCE FROM POLITICS-AS-USUAL.
Texans are the most independent-minded people in America. The last independent governor of Texas was Sam Houston. The time has arrived for the next independent governor of Texas - Kinky Friedman!

11) KINKY KINKY KINKY!!!
How often do you get to go to political rallies and shout KINKY over and over again. With everyone else doing it too!

The better half?

2006-09-27T17:56:00.000-07:00

I don't ever match my socks up in pairs because it is a waste of time. I keep them in a big basket next to the dryer and every morning I go to the basement to get my socks for the day. When the basket is empty, that is a signal that I should probably do more laundry.

This morning I went to the basement to get my socks and at the bottom of the basement steps was half of a baby squirrel. Specifically, the back half. Tail?...check, hind legs?...check, abdomen?...check, Head shoulders chest and front legs...houston...we have a problem.

I tried not to think about how my cute fat cat spent the better part of the wee morning hours chopping a baby squirrel in half with almost surgical precision. I couldn't stop thinking about the rest of the squirrel though. Where is the freakin head? Do cats actually eat squirrel skull bones? WTF. And trust me, I've looked all around the basement.

The only place I didn't check was under the treadmill, and now I'm thinking that when Cheryl gets home to do her afternoon workout she's going to get that treadmill up to a certain speed and this baby squirrel head is going to shoot across the basement and splat into a wall making some kind of Ralph Steadmanesque illustration that no amount of Kilz paint will cover up.

And here's the thing that really bugs me: who the hell eats the head and chest and arms when you've got the ass and thighs and legs and such. I think of pigs and cows and I'm going for the meaty sections. Can you imagine trying to get to the good meat of a cow skull? It just seems to me as though my cat does not understand which part of the animal is the best, and being the culinary snob that I am, this upsets me.

And it's only wednesday.

One more thing: how the flip did a baby squirrel get in the house? Since I personally let Merlin in and out, I'm pretty sure I would have noticed had he traipsed up the front steps with a squirrel dangling from his mouth.

In other news:
Today has been a good music day on itunes. I did the random shuffle thing and it threw together a pretty good morning mix.

Among the songs I would suggest you all give a listen to, and perhaps purchase would be:

Do you trust me? - Blanche
Better Way - Ben Harper
Iroquois St. Factory - Melissa McClelland
When We Say Goodnight - Jonah Smith
Smile - David Gilmour
Pink Champagne - Venus Hum
Fuzzy Freaky - David Byrne
Relating to a Psychopath - Macy Gray

One more thing about music and then I've gotta go for the day.
Podcasts.
For those of you who don't know, they are essentially "programs" that you can download to your computer or MP3 player and then listen to at your leisure. Lots of people and organizations and shows have podcasts, but I'm addicted to one that I get on itunes called Coverville. This guy does these shows and they're nothing but cover songs. Check out the 2005 best of podcast to hear CAKE do a fantastic rendition of the classic disco hit "I will survive" (gloria gaynor maybe?) The episode devoted to Neil Diamond is truly spectacular, and you haven't lived until you hear the easy listening version of Sir Mix-a-lots "Baby got Back." Hearing the lyrics "cause I'm long and I'm strong and I'm down to get the friction on" while banjos and violins and guitars are gently playing in the background is quite a treat. (That would be coverville episode 163 for those of you who check this out. It's toward the end of the episode, but the whole thing is worth listening to).

Signing off for now
J

I believe!!!!

2006-09-25T13:24:00.000-07:00

I don't know how many of you have had that uncomfortable moment where you bump into an old high school friend or a used car salesman or whatever and they've told you: "it seems like you've really got it together...I would love to get together and discuss an EXCITING business opportunity with you". Only it's really hard to get them to tell you just what it is. So...you go to the meeting and find out that for the low low price of $249 you get the privilege of selling soap to all of your friends and family and signing them up to sell soap too so that in just a few years you'll have that yacht in a harbor in the virgin islands that you've always dreamt of.

Maybe it's because I live in the MULTI LEVEL MARKETING MECCA called Grand Rapids, but it sure has happened to me a lot.

Thats why I'm so excited about BELIEVE! It's a new movie that's coming out soon and I can't wait.

Check out the website:

www.believethemovie.com

Sign up, download some business cards, spread the word. Believe is coming soon to a theater near you.

WANNA BUY SOME SOAP?!?

Depressing

2006-09-05T12:55:00.000-07:00

It's pretty depressing when your previous post is called "no excuses" because of a lack of posts, yet here I am doing it again.

It all started back in Mid April (the whole "don’t really feel like posting on my blog" thing)

I was scheduled to attend a conference in Chicago in Mid-May. The Adobe Creative Suite conference. I've been to lots of conferences before so I was, as usual, a little apprehensive. I'm tired of the amazed looks, and the conversations stopping as I walk by. Tired of not feeling welcome in their little clubs. Never getting called on when I had a question. And I know myself well enough to be able to say that yeah, I was a little jealous. I wanted to be just like all of them. I felt inadequate. There, I said it.

So I did some research online. A couple weeks worth of sitting in front of the computer every night, glassy eyed, until finally, Cheryl came in one night and saw my dejected face and put a caring hand on my shoulder and said "Why don't you just go ahead and do it Jonathan?" So I did it.

I purchased a 15inch Powerbook G4. Yep. 1.5GHz, 2GB RAM, 100GB harddrive, and it is loaded! I can lay down tracks and edit dvds and balance my checkbook and play poker online and listen to music and everything! It's a bad mamma-jamma.

Why not a Macbook Pro you ask? Cause I couldnt afford to wait for Adobe and Quark and all those guys to rewrite their apps so that they run natively on the new Intel based processors.

But thats not the point.

The point is the conference. When I went to my conference I was one of the gang. I had my groovy little messenger bag with my cool ass powerbook and my ipod and my headphones and my wireless mouse and the extra long extension cord (so you can make a fuss about finding an outlet because you don't like to cycle your battery too much when you can avoid it). You get the picture....I got a new toy. Ain't conformity great?

Sooooooo I know what you're thinking..."But Jonathan...if you had the convenience of laptop at your disposal now, wouldn't it have been easier to post these last few months?"

Not hardly.

Now I had to go shopping. First was the aforementioned messenger bag/laptop carrying case and the wireless mouse. Now I am suitably equipped for any coffehouse in the world. Then there was the new computer desk from officemax because hey...I really oughtta start making this spare bedroom look more like an office. Besides, I had forgotten how fun it is to assemble something that comes in 3 big boxes with instructions that you have to read from right to left and no packing list to crossreference the 783 various and sundry items needed to assemble the behemoth.

Then I decided that if I was going to be doing more work outta the "home office" I really should be able to work on the porch or in the backyard seeing as how it was summer and all. So I had to go get an Airport Extreme wireless network base station.

Now I should be able to post more on the blog right? NOPE.

The June issue of the magazine was due. Many evening hours = no posting time.

June crept into July...there was the block party to organize, the July issue of the magazine, a couple of birthdays to celebrate, going nuts at work, trying to pump up the home office work and so on. August rolls right on in and I'm burning the midnight oil trying to get ahead at work so I can go on vacation which was a couple of weeks ago in a house on the east shore of Beaver Island where the only way to get internet access is at the public library on the other end of the island and quite honestly I couldn't get motivated to put shoes on to do that and then there was a couple of weeks of catch-up when I got back and so that is why I haven't posted for so long.

Sorry...
I'll try to be better...really.

No Excuses.

2006-04-05T07:50:00.000-07:00

I really don't have any excuses for my lack of posts. Just haven't been that interested or feeling funny about anything. Sure, I've also been pretty damn busy at work as well as with freelance stuff, but thats not really an excuse because I'm usually busy with that stuff.

One thing I have been doing though, is burying my nose on a daily basis in a photoshop book. Not your basic "photoshop for dummies" book. This one is a 600 page monstrosity that covers only two things: masking and compositing. The idea is that if you master a wide variety of selection techniques you can seamlessly blend images together and avoid ever having that "cut-n-paste" look to your work. I knew a little about it. Now I know a lot more.

So here's a sample. It's an old vintage postcard, a close-up of a bronze "earthy" sculpture, an eye, a little girl, lightning, the ocean at sunset, a woman doing yoga, and another bronze sculpture of a man looking away. It's not supposed to be a work of art or anything....it's more of a collage to test some of these techniques, but I still like it for some reason.

THE FUNNY STUFF

I saw a beautiful picture on jamokers site and he mentioned that it was taken while playing golf hooky. There's also a cool magazine cover at Writermoms site. Those 2 things reminded me of the photo below that I turned into a golf digest cover as a spoof for the gang of fellas that I go golfing with every year up north in "Zilla country. It's the only time I was ever successful with the "exploding ball" trick, and the fact that the photo was taken with a disposable camera and caught the moment so beautifully makes it even better. The only thing I regret is that there wasn't a real ball on the tee because the guy swinging the club really smacked the piss outta the ball.

Thats all for today. Hi to you all. Hope to be back sooner than I have been recently.

Ciao for niao

ACTION!

2006-03-07T08:17:00.000-08:00

If you're not into photoshop, this will probably bore you.

I ran across a cool photoshop action yesterday and thought I would share it with you. For those of you who don't know, an "action" is a series of prerecorded steps. You load it into your actions menu and press play, then follow the instructions.

This action takes the photoshop "watercolor" filter to a new level by applying a "real-world watercolor workflow" to the process.

1. Textured Paper
2. Rough sketch of main outlines
3. Paint large flat areas with a large soft brush and lots of water
4. paint the details with a smaller brush
5. brighter areas receive almost no paint at all.

While the action doesn't do EVERYTHING for you, it does set your photo up with all the necessary adjustment layers...curves...hue/saturation...etc. Tweak a couple of layer masks to your liking and you're all set. And if all that sounds like a foreign language to you, it even comes with a pdf that gives you step-by-step (sorta) instructions.

AND....it is available as a photoshop ELEMENTS action as well for any of you who may have that application.

you'll find this action, and many many more at http://www.atncentral.com/download.htm

Below is about 5 minutes worth of tinkering...obviously needs more work, but you get the idea.

Here is my before:

Here is my after:

This is kinda nuts

2006-02-24T08:24:00.000-08:00

Hi Kids.

If you like squirrels and movie trivia, you'll love this game:

Click HERE to play the wacky squirrel movie trivia game.

They say the neon lights are bright

2006-02-21T12:38:00.000-08:00

Hmmmm....I had to answer a tiebreaker on mine.

HELD OVER....40th straight week!
THE JONATHAN MONOLOGUES

You scored as Theater. You should be a Theater major! Like a bohemian actress, you are seasoned and confident and not afraid to express yourself!

Theater

100%

Anthropology

100%

Philosophy

100%

Psychology

100%

Sociology

92%

Mathematics

83%

Engineering

83%

Dance

75%

Biology

58%

Journalism

58%

Linguistics

58%

Art

50%

English

42%

Chemistry

17%

What is your Perfect Major? (PLEASE RATE ME!!<3)
created with QuizFarm.com

Nice Racks and the Dalai Lama

2006-02-21T06:13:00.000-08:00

Today I am working on a big sign for a company that sells nutritional supplements that you put out in the woods so deer can eat them. It makes them healthier and stronger, which makes their racks of antlers bigger, so when fall comes and you KILL them (oh excuse me....harvest them) you have a more impressive head to mount and hang on your wall.

Can you say ethical dilemma?

So I took a break and checked out writermoms blog where I ran across a picture of the dalai lama. It made me smile. He always does.

I remember once hearing him tell a story about being reunited with a monk friend of his after his friend was released from years of captivity. His friend told him that his greatest fear during this whole time was that he would feel hatred towards his captors. Makes you stop and think don't it?

So with that in mind, I want to steer you all towards a great little music based project called Mantra Mix. It's a great cd. I own it. I love it.

Here's the scoop:

MANTRA MIX is a once-in-a-lifetime collection from the hottest music stars today. These incredible artists have come together to support His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the plight of Tibetan refugees.

All artists' royalties will be donated to the Office of the Dalai Lama via the Foundation for the Preservation of the Mahayana Tradition (FPMT), an organization based on the same Buddhist tradition as the Dalai Lama. Founded by Lama Thubten Yeshe and Lama Zopa Rinpoche to help bring Tibetan Buddhism to the West, FPMT also engages in community service and has assisted Tibetan refugee communities, improving water supplies, housing, education, and providing support for elderly monks and nuns.

MANTRA MIX includes a Bonus Enhanced CD component featuring special video clips of the Dalai Lama as well as some unique interactive 'lotus' and 'mandala' portals. These can be viewed and explored at the users' leisure on their personal computers. Cutting edge technology has gone into the Enhanced CD to produce an ambient Tibetan environment offering another dimension to the whole album concept. The Enhanced CD production has been donated by Holotype New Media Design, Box Communications, and Phil Snow Sounds Design, multimedia companies based in Sydney, Australia.

Music Makes a Difference
Mantra Mix has funded several projects around the world, making a difference for many communities.
Among the project are:
* In 2002, to the Department of Health, Central Tibetan Administration, Dharamsala, North India, Mantra Mix helped fund 1 ambulance in Ladakh; 1 ambulance in Dehra Dun, India;1 hospital power generator, Byalkuppe, India.

* In 2004, Central Tibetan Relief Committee, Dharamsala, North India, provided funds to the Dalhousie Housing Project, Himachal Pradesh, India

MANTRA MIX

Featuring

Ben Harper
Chemical Brothers
David Byrne
Fatboy Slim
Kula Shaker
Leftfield
Madonna
Massive Attack
Moby
Natalie Merchant
Peter Gabriel
Propellerheads
R.E.M.
Sinead O'Connor
The London Suede
Travis

Plus, it's got some really cool tibetan chants on it too.

Go to www.mantramix.com and get your groove on today...while putting a roof over someones head!

Carleigh

2006-02-20T19:01:00.000-08:00

I was raised as a catholic. It is not a lifestyle or religion that I have pursued for many a year, but there are certain things (besides an overwhelming feeling of guilt) that have stuck with me over time. One of those things is the fact that contrary to what I was taught, breasts are a really good thing, even out of wedlock. The other thing is St. Francis. St Francis is the patron saint of animals and ecology. Francis was the name I was confirmed under. I chose that name because of animals and the fact that I had a cousin name Francis. The only place I insisted on going to when I spent a month in Italy with a group of friends was Assisi. It was, hands down, the most moving experience I have ever had. More on that in another post.

When I first met Cheryl it was also the first time I met Carleigh. Cheryl turned out to be the love of my life. Carleigh is Cheryl's dog. Cheryl was smitten with me (I like to think) and Carleigh was not. Carleigh was a humane society rescue dog. The humane society told Cheryl they thought she was a beagle/terrier mix. This diagnosis is proof to me that certain people sprinkle crack on their cereal for breakfast. Carleigh is as border collie as you can get. Carleigh was obviously abused during her puppy years. She was obviously abused by men. To say that she didn't like men is appropriate. To say that she didn't TRUST men even more appropriate. I won't go so far as to say that she hated men, but her indifference, glares, and occasional growls were hard to ignore.

It was a long road...the road of trust...between Carleigh and me. For the first year, she had a big problem with hugging. Cheryl and I would hug in the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, you name it. To Carleigh, it was an assault on the one person in the world she trusted. She would bark and prance and bark some more. It didn't stop until we had an acceptable distance between the two of us. Then, all was right with the world.

The second year was better. I seemed to have passed some kind of test. A good friend of mine refers to it as speaking "dog" or "cat." "Oh...she knows that you speak dog" he would say. , I think that most animals have that sense. Carleigh does, but she is wary of her own senses. She knows from experience that some people can fake the language. I think it was towards the end of the second year that I felt I might go so far as to try and pick Carleigh up and put her in my lap without fear of losing half of my face. She was kind enough to hang out on my lap for a few seconds before hopping down.

Subsequent years brought more closeness. Tugs of war, responding to the "two fingers in the mouth whistle" that only I can do (as far as she knows,) the secret pieces of steak hot off the grill when no-one was looking. We bonded. Years have gone by now. Carleigh is fourteen and a half. She gets her Rhymadil for her arthritis and glucosamine for joint lubrication. (A brief word regarding pet medications: if your animal doesn't like to take pills, go to the grocery store and buy a tube of Braunschweiger. It's all of two bucks for the tube, and dogs and cats alike will eat anything that you put in it.)

Carleigh does not hear me come in the house anymore. Frequently, she is still asleep even when I reach the top of the stairs, and only wakes up because the top few steps of the staircase creak too much. She is not a watchdog anymore. It is the top of the stairs moments that I will remember Carleigh for the most. When her eyes open as I reach the top few steps, I kneel on the third step and bend down a little. We are now eye to eye and on the same level. She is usually tired enough that she will let me rub the hard little bits of "sleep" from her eyes without too much fuss. Then she usually lets out a big contented sigh and rolls onto her back as I scratch her tummy and lay my head next to hers and tell her what a wonderful dog she is.

Carleigh is always happy to see me when I come home. It is an EVENT. She shows her love on her sleeve and is proud of it. When I stretch out on the floor in front of the tv, she want to be there. Nevermind how bad her breath is....it's the thought that counts.

I know that sometime in the near future Carleigh will not be at the top of the stairs when I get home. It makes me sadder than you can imagine. I also know that I have learned more from her than I have from most of the people that I encounter in my day to day life. I think that's the reason why I liked St. Francis so much. I think it's also why trusting is better than not trusting.

I used to think that if I were reincarnated I wanted to be a hawk. Lately, I'm thinking a border collie wouldn't be so bad, just as long as you speak dog.

Trouble

2006-02-15T17:22:00.000-08:00

I'm having trouble posting lately. It's not writers block, because I'm fairly certain I'm not really a writer-at least not in the sense where I would experience a "block." I think it's more of a combination of sick of computers and sick of the news. I go through these phases where I can't help but check the news on the web every couple of hours, which usually leaves me depressed. I confess...I scroll straight down to the politics section and then find myself steaming for the next couple of hours. I steam because I read outlandish things that I know will be forgotten in the span of a couple of days which, in my opinion, should never be forgotten. In fact, I think much of what I read is punishable, and frequently criminal.

Then there is the sitting in front of a computer all day, which gets tiring...particularly when someone comes into my office and tells me they have promised a client a brand front cover, inside front cover, inside back cover, and back cover to a client and the due date is tomorrow. Oh...and they haven't written copy...."just come up with something that sounds and looks good." I'm the only designer where I work.

And....I really really really want a powerbook G4 with at least a gig of ram and at least a 1.5 ghz processor and I don't care if it's a 15 or 17 inch screen, but I need the software on it already cause I can't afford the 2500 bucks for additional desktop publishing software, so............I watch ebay....and I bid....and I watch.........and I bid....and I watch.........and I bid....and I watch.........and I bid....and I watch.....and then i just don't feel like posting on my blog at all.

So...I guess this qualifies more as a vent than a post.

I'm going to go check the news now.

P.S...I like this guy's style. www.indiauncut.blogspot.com (you have to cut and paste because blogspots link to website has disappeared from my editor.)

Sweet Louisiana Tunage

2006-02-15T16:55:00.000-08:00

Home of the Groove

He's Baaaack

2006-02-07T07:14:00.000-08:00

After a fairly long hiatus, our FEARLESS LEADER has added a couple of posts to his blog. Damn this dude cracks me up. But it's also kinda scary....he's really got a bead on the workings of the Prez's mind.

On a more serious note. What the F happened to my links? Is anyone else having this problem? They're gone. Just *poof* gone. Whaddup wit dat?

bubble project

2006-02-06T10:17:00.000-08:00

I saw a link today at jamokers blog for something called the bubble project.

Heres mine

Tagged...I'm it

2006-02-06T06:04:00.000-08:00

Here we go

Seven movies I have loved (identified by my favorite line from each)

1. Why do I have to be Mr. Pink?

2. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.

3. mmmm, juicyfruit

4. Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy motherf*cker.

5. Is it safe? (think dentist)

6. A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

7. I love the smell of napalm in the morning...smells like...victory.

Seven Books I like

Still Life with Woodpecker
Into Thin Air
The DaVinci Cod (it's a parody, not a typo)
A Simple Plan
Green Eggs and Ham
Lies and the Lying Liars who tell them
The Screwtape Letters

Seven things I say

Ketel One rocks, splash of lime
No Freakin Way
medium rare
Hail to the victors valiant (o.k...I sing that one)
slow, step, step, slow, step step, slow (it's the ballroom dance lessons...can't get it outta my head)
I love you more
I'll be here all week folks....try the veal

Seven things that attract me to a city
Cool architecture
Good local bars
Good restaurants
Trees
Friendly people
A sensible lack of one way streets
Diversity

Seven things to do before I die
Skydive
Hit the lotto
White Water Raft
Go to Ireland
Drive a fast car on a racetrack
Play in an extremely high stakes poker game
Own more than one home

Seven things I can't do. (I'm using won't for can't in some instances)
Breastfeed
Vote Republican
Eat Okra
Golf well
Drive Slow
Kill an animal
Stay mad for very long

Seven people to tag
Sorry....I'm fresh out. the meme stops here.

Bead Good, Liver Bad

2006-02-02T08:24:00.000-08:00

Tonight, we're having a party. A Bead for Life party. I say we, but I really mean Cheryl. I will help set up, and approximately 15 minutes before 40 people descend on the house I will change into my raggedy jeans, throw on my Jukes Bar T-shirt, grab my 20 year old pool cue and head out to pool league. I got my ass kicked the last time I went to league, so I'm out for revenge. I get my ass kicked at lots of games, but rarely pool. There is an old saying: "A good pool player is the sign of a wasted youth." If this is true, I think I bypassed ages 5-18. I'm not bragging...it's just that after 20+ years of constant play I expect a little more of myself than your average joe. The bar I play for, Jukes, is called that because the owner has a computer behind the bar with thousands and thousands of songs on it. No crap, no top forty, no hair bands or Britney Spears. You ask for the binder of songs, write down what you want to hear, and they play it. Free. It's the only place I know where you can have a great drink, shoot pool on an 8 foot table (not those dinky bar tables) and hear Professor Longhair, Tom Waits, Morphine, Adrian Belew, The Band, Elvis Costello and Lucinda Williams all in the span of one hour.

My pool team t-shirt is black, with a little yellow box in the middle of it, about chest high. The yellow box is the size of a playing card. Inside the box it says:

"The liver is evil and must be punished."

I love to wear it on days when it is not pool league night and watch people try and make out the words as I pass them in a store or on the sidewalk. If they smile I smile back. If they frown I offer to buy them a drink.

Back to the Bead for Life party. I think this is a great idea. Here's what their website says:

"BeadforLife is a unique poverty eradication project that builds economic and cultural bridges between impoverished women in Uganda and concerned citizens in North America. It is an income generating project focused on eradicating poverty. BeadforLife connects people on two continents, sharing knowledge, caring, mutual respect, and hope for a world that works for all.

Through the sale of beautiful, handmade bead jewelry, the project generates income for over 160 Ugandan bead makers and their families, affecting over a thousand people to assist them in overcoming poverty, HIV/AIDS, and war. The handmade bead jewelry is carefully selected for the highest quality of colorful bead necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and chokers. Your participation through buying the beads or hosting a party or event helps to “eradicate poverty one bead at a time."

I really like the idea of eradicating poverty. I don't really care what country it is. I know some people out there wonder why we all don't just eradicate it here at home first and then move on to other countries. What does it matter where? If you're hungry you're hungry regardless of time zone.

Here is the invitation I made for Cheryl to mail out.

There will be African tea, banana punch, and I'm picking up the food trays from the groovy ethiopian restaurant that is down the block from us on my way home from work. Cheryl is cooking up some plantains and making a couple of stews and such. Last night I made up a cool play list to loop at the party...Angelique Kidjo, King Sunny Ade, Peter Tosh, and a few other groovy world-beat artists.

I think she'll have a fun time at the party. I think I'll have a fun time at pool. I hope there are some leftover plantains and I wish it was Friday.

P.S....

2006-01-25T17:54:00.000-08:00

P.S.

For me it was a yellow squash sauteed in a skillet with some fresh thyme and butter, and a ribeye with some garlic and olive oil. Oh, and all of Bonnie Raitts records set to shuffle.

bon appetit

J

Killin' time

2006-01-25T16:32:00.000-08:00

I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but life got busy for me a while back. I think it was several years ago, but it could have been four or five years ago...I'm not sure. I don't have kids so it wasn't the whole children thing that made life busy. I think it was a combo of things. Pool league (I shoot a wicked game of stick) combined with ballroom dance class with my better 3/4, throw in some freelance work a couple nights a week, add a splash of event du jour and all of a sudden the calendar is full. Suddenly I realized I was looking at a calendar (which I NEVER used to do) to figure out when I could get together with friends or family. (By the way, when I say I, I usually mean we, but I'm just so used to typing I that I think I'll keep doing it.).

Every once in a while though, I (not we) find myself with a little spare time on my hands. Like tonight. My better 3/4 has a latin dance class. Now before anyone says: "well why aren't you at the class with her?", let me just clarify that its a latin dance aerobics class for chicks only, so I'm exempt. Plus, I did my ballroom thing last night and I'm plum rhumba'd out. Anyhooo....I thought I would share my recipe of my evening with you.

I'll call it.....What to do with your time when your better 3/4 is at a Latin Dance Aerobics Class.

I will begin with a prerequisite: Put on your favorite music really really loud.

Now the steps.

First.....
go to your local libation purveyor.

Second....
Buy some red wine....
and some vodka.

Third....
Go to the grocery store and buy a steak (or some chicken or some fish.) Also buy a veggie like broccoli or asparagus or yellow squash or whatever.

Fourth:
buy a sweet potato. THIS IS A VERY IMPORTANT STEP ( the sweet potato part)

Fifth...
Go home....uncork the wine....make a vodka tonic.....marinate your meat. Peel the sweet potato. Oh....and preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
Have a sip of your cocktail. Turn up the music.

Sixth
Take a piece of aluminum foil.... I would say one that is 2 feet long. Lay it out on the counter. Slice the sweet potato into thin slices.
Have a sip of your cocktail.

Seventh
Place a few dollops of butter in the center of your foil...your objective here is to make a little line of butter dollops to lay your potato slice on.

Eighth
Lay your sweet potato slices on top of the butter dollops. I like to do mine like a card dealer does in vegas....ya know how they fan out the cards? thats how I like my potatoes to look.
Have a sip of your cocktail.

THEN...drizzle a bit of sesame oil on top of the taters. THEN, drizzle some soy sauce on top of the taters, THEN, sprinkle some sesame seeds on top of the taters. THEN, make a little foil packet out of the whole thing. I recommend bringing the top and bottom ends together and folding down, then crimp the ends a bunch of times so the juice doesn't leak out.

Ninth
Place the packet on the oven rack and bake for 45 minutes.

Meanwhile, finish your cocktail and have another while preparing your steak and vegetable.

Tenth
Cook your steak ( or whatever meat you're preparing), then cook your veggie. These two steps don't matter at all. Its all about the sweet potato.

Eleventh
Take your foil packet out of the oven, carefully open it, and get a whiff of the goodness that has been trying to escape that aluminum prison for the last hour. (You lost 15 minutes cause of the cocktails.)

Twelfth
Pour yourself a glass of wine.

Thirteenth
Eat, Drink, and be merry

Don't worry about being a member of the clean plate club...just eat all the sweet taters.

Finally....throw on some flannels and a t-shirt and call it a day.

DON"T look at the calendar.

Good night all.

Word Fun

2006-01-25T05:14:00.000-08:00

I love this. Every year someone emails it to me, and of course, it's purported to be this years' results (kind of like the darwin awards emails you get every year claiming to be this years winners)

The deal is, you have to take a word, and add, subtract or change one letter to form a new word with a new definition.

1. Bozone (n.) The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

2. Cashtration (n.) The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

3. Giraffiti (n) Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

4. Sarchasm (n) The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

5. Inoculatte (v) To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

6. Hipatitis (n) Terminal coolness.

7. Osteopornosis (n) A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

8. Karmageddon (n) It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

9. Decafalon (n.) The grilling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

10. Glibido (v) All talk and no action.

11. Dopeler effect (n) The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

12. Arachnoleptic fit (n.) The frantic dance performed just after you'veaccidentally walked through a spider web.

13. Beelzebug (n.) Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

14. Caterpallor (n.) The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.
And the pick of the literature:

15. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.

I decided to try my own, and chose a word from this mornings Yahoo News Headlines. The word I chose ... obesity." I'm going to add an S to the beginning, and capitalize the first three letters, so it reads like this:

SOBesity (adj.) the disease of being both overweight, and a son-of-a-bitch.

Yeah I know it doesn't EXACTLY adhere to the rules, but I still thought it was kinda funny.

Anyone care to add to the list? Bet we could come up with some doozies.

I got tagged.

2006-01-23T08:14:00.000-08:00

Finally! I got tagged. I am no longer a meme virgin.

Four Jobs:
Graphic Designer, Tech-crew at the Aspen Music Festival, Interviewer at the Institute for Social Research (most bizarre question I had to ask? Would you say you abuse your spouse a) once a week b) once a month c) less that once a month or d) more than once a week?) and bartender.

Four Movies I Could Watch Over and Over:
Blue Velvet, Reservoir Dogs, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Run Lola Run

Four Places I have Lived:
A. White Plains New York, Ann Arbor Michigan, Ypsilanti Michigan, Grand Rapids Michigan.

Four TV Shows I Would Love to Watch:
A. The Daily Show, Jeopoardy, Northern Exposure, Twin Peaks.

Four Places I have been on Vacation:
Tuscany, Aspen, Bahamas, Toronto

Four Websites You Visit Daily:
Zilla, Pokerroom, Yahoo, Huntington Bank

Four of My Favorite Foods:
Steak, conch fritters, pesto, zagnut bars

Four Places I would Rather Be:
Massage table, Pool table, Dinner table, Bed

Four Albums I Cannot Live Without:
A. Steely Dan - AJA, Miles Davis - Kinda Blue, The Band - The Last Waltz, Talking Heads - Fear of Music

Four People to tag:
CaptainKurt,
zilla
jamoker

3 will have to do...everyone else on my list has already been tagged with this.

Dieselbilly?

2006-01-23T08:08:00.000-08:00

This saturday I turn the big 42. Friday and Saturday I will be attending the Ann Arbor Folk Festival. I can't wait to hear some Dieselbilly! I'm stoked. Plus, the "Wayne Gretsky of the ukelele" is playing.

Check out this incredible 2 night line-up!

Jan 27th, 7 p.m.
Tonight's headliner is the Robert Cray Band. Cray is a popular, multiple Grammy-winning singer-songwriter and guitarist whose soulful mix of R&B, blues, and rock played a major role in the 90s resurgence of roots music, especially blues.

Also appearing: Iris DeMent, a huge local favorite making her first Ann Arbor appearance in more than 3 years, is a country-folk singer-songwriter who writes simple, affectingly homespun lyrics about lust, forgiveness, heaven, home, and other fundamentals, and she sings in a warbling, pure soprano that soars and dives with a captivatingly unforced emotional authority.

The Greencards is an acclaimed Austin-based Australian acoustic bluegrass trio.

Catie Curtis is a singer-songwriter from Maine, known for her expansive, soaring vocals and percussive guitar style, who writes engaging, down-to-earth songs about the pleasures and tragedies of ordinary life.

Blanche is a Detroit country-punk band led by the husband-and-wife duo of Dan and Tracee Miller.

Bill Kirchen and Too Much Fun is a band from Washington, D.C., led by Ann Arbor native and former Commander Cody guitarist Kirchen, that plays a rowdy mix of rockabilly, honky-tonk, blues, swing, and truck-driving songs that critics have dubbed "dieselbilly."

Ray Bonneville is a blues and country-rock guitarist and harmonica player from Montreal known for his raspy, laid-back vocals.

James Hill is a young Canadian ukulele virtuoso - "the Wayne Gretsky of ukulele" - whose repertoire ranges from traditional Hawaiian music to bluegrass, jazz, and classical music.

Emcee is Cheryl Wheeler, a versatile veteran singer--songwriter known for her hauntingly pure voice, biting sense of humor, and alternately poignant and whimsical songs about human relationships and everyday life. Hill Auditorium.

Jan 28th 6 p.m.
Tonight's headliner is Lyle Lovett (see review), a Texas singer-songwriter who has established himself as one of the most inventive and original voices in country music since Willie Nelson. His lyrics are distinguished by their emotionally powerful down-home imagery, acidic epigrammatic wit, and subversively ironic playfulness, and his music and song forms draw imaginatively on several traditions, from jump blues, western swing, honky-tonk, and country waltzes to folk balladry and hipster jazz. He performs tonight with a trio.

Also appearing: Jonatha Brooke is a Boston-based singer-songwriter known for her quirkily sophisticated, fiercely unconventional pop-folk and her compellingly eccentric guitar playing.

The Holmes Brothers is an acclaimed Long Island band that plays churchy, emotionally charged gospel-oriented blues, at once down-home gritty and uptown silky, and often sung in close, tense 3-part harmonies.

Don White is a veteran singer-songwriter from Lynn, Massachusetts, who writes sharp-witted songs about everyday life that blend pathos, humor, and biting satire.

Wade & Julia Mainer are a legendary old-time mountain gospel husband-and-wife duo from the Blue Ridge Mountains who have lived in Michigan since 1953.

Adrienne Young & Little Sadie is a band led by Young, an up-and-coming young roots music singer--songwriter whose knack for writing songs that seem at once newly minted and weathered has provoked comparisons to Gillian Welch.

Caroline Herring is a highly regarded Mississippi-bred, Austin-based country-folk singer-songwriter known for her luminous, strikingly expressive vocals and her vividly etched songs about the everyday lives of people in the contemporary South.

James Hill is a young Canadian ukulele virtuoso - "the Wayne Gretsky of ukulele" - whose repertoire ranges from traditional Hawaiian music to bluegrass, jazz, and classical music.

Annie Capps is a local singer-songwriter and electric guitarist who writes jazz-tinged folk-rock songs with a strong personal flavor. She is accompanied by her husband, guitarist Rod Capps.

One of my favorite lines from the movies

2006-01-18T12:34:00.000-08:00

strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.

This could work!

2006-01-18T05:48:00.000-08:00

I read a couple of good posts regarding spelling and punctuation over at alpharat's. I'm a prime offender, partially due to lack of knowledge with the rest accounted for by a huge portion of sheer unadulterated laziness. It made me think of an email I got a while back.

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdaenig

TEH PAOMNNEHAL PWEOR OF THE HMUAN MNID

Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in what oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, teh olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht teh frist adn lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mind deosn't raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

Amzanighuh ?

Form now on I'm giong to sumibt all of my pstos uisnig tihs fomrat.

Jsut kdidnig

2006-01-17T13:36:00.000-08:00

I stole this from Bulb

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Jonathan!

Jonathan can jump up to sixteen times his own height.
If your ear itches, this means that someone is talking about Jonathan.
On average, women blink nearly twice as much as Jonathan.
Without its lining of Jonathan, your stomach would digest itself!
All swans in England belong to Jonathan!
Birds do not sleep in Jonathan, though they may rest in him from time to time.
Baby swans are called Jonathan.
Donald Duck's middle name is Jonathan.
Jonathan was originally green, and actually contained cocaine.
The porpoise is second to Jonathan as the most intelligent animal on the planet.

INCONSEQUENTIAL????

2006-01-17T13:25:00.000-08:00

I was looking through the news online today and ran across this:

House Republicans Unveil New Ethics Plan

WASHINGTON - House Republicans moved to seize the initiative for ethics reform Tuesday with a comprehensive package of changes, including the banning of privately sponsored travel like that arranged by convicted lobbyist Jack Abramoff. The package also includes a virtual ban on gifts, except for inconsequential items like baseball caps.....

The story goes on and on about the sweeping reforms that are being introduced etc. etc. etc...but I kept coming back to this one phrase: "inconsequential items like baseball caps."

It struck me as odd. I mean, I just don't see a lot of members of our congress wearing baseball caps. A fez? fedora? nice little panama while on the golf course? sure, I can see those. I just don't see a lot of baseball caps in the crowd when I'm watching C-SPAN. Plus, you reach a point in your life where, for most people, baseball caps just don't look right.

Why not "inconsequential items like jackets" or "inconsequential items like bumper stickers" or even "inconsequential items like McDonalds Gift Certificates?" Why not "inconsequential items like berets?"

WHY BASEBALL CAPS?

Then I got to thinking...what if? What if this is one of those things that gets shuffled right under the nose of the public. That sort of technicality that provides room for "plausible deniability"

So I did a little digging on the web, and I found this:

Ha! and they thought they could put one over on me.

Almost the weekend

2006-01-13T05:41:00.000-08:00

Can't Get It Out of My Head

2006-01-11T06:33:00.000-08:00

On my way into work this morning I was scanning the radio for something decent to listen to. I didn't find anything. I did hear "S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y...NIGHT!" by the Bay City Rollers and it reminded me of days gone by.

I used to manage a huge antique store in a past life. The store was huge, the antiques we sold were, for the most part, huge, and it was in this huge old building that had been a masons hall or armory or something like that. It was a good job, and everyone else who worked there thought the same thing. As a result there was almost no turnover. I worked there for 10 years and almost everyone I started working with was still there when I left.

The store had three floors with various stairways. At the back of the building was a stairway that would take you from the basement to the top floor in one straight shot. It was a very narrow stairway. If 2 people met on it, both were required to turn sideways to pass each other. I suppose if Mary Kate Olsen and Lindsay Lohan were to meet on that staircase they could squeeze by without turning sideways, but normal size people couldn't.

We played a fun game on that rickety noisy old stairway. The objective of the game was to come up with a song from the past that, as soon as someone heard it, would annoyingly stick in the listeners head for hours to come.

The song had to be bad.

As you passed a coworker on the steps, exactly at the moment of the sideways turn, you would sing out a quick line of whatever song you had chosen as your weapon.

"good morning Rachel"
"Hey Jonathan"
"I've got a brand new pair of rollerskates..."
"You bastard!"
(sound of feet running up stairs).

2 hours later

"morning Jonathan"
"Hey Jill
"You're havin my baby. What a lovely way....."
"You bitch!"

Sometimes you would come back from lunch, stroll in the back door on the middle level hang a left and head straight upstairs only to immediately run into someone and before you could even say hi they would sing:

"the night chicago died"

and run away.

We went through a whole bunch of tunes over the years.

Think Neil Sedaka, Paul Anka, Abba, David Soul, and you're moving in the right direction. Add some Chipmunks, more Abba, and a good healthy dose of "Thank god I'm a country boy" and you're developing a healthy repertoire. Now throw the entire soundtrack of Grease into the mix and you're ready to go to battle.

To all of you I say, Happy Wednesday morning and

"Who Let the DOGS OUT! Woof"

How much for just one ray?

2006-01-06T05:51:00.000-08:00

14 consecutive days of no sun
44 consecutive days of some form of precipitation.

Can I get just one ray of sunshine?

Ba dump bump

2006-01-04T13:40:00.000-08:00

A Professor was giving a lecture on "Involuntary Muscular Contractions" to his first year medical students.

Realizing that this was not the most riveting subject, the Professor decided to lighten the mood slightly.

He pointed to a young woman in the front row and said,

"Do you know what your asshole is doing while you're having an orgasm?"

She replied, "He's probably golfing with his friends."

Noodling

2006-01-04T13:04:00.000-08:00

After reading writermom and alpharat's posts about catfish, I couldn't help but remember a documentary I saw on TV one day about noodling.

Wikipedia says that noodling is:
"the practice and sport of fishing for catfish using only one's bare hands. Noodling may be called grabbling, graveling, hogging, or tickling, depending on what southern state you're in (Kentuckians call it dogging, while Nebraskans prefer stumping.) Despite these colorful names, it's better explained by the name handfishing; however, this term is less popular among those who participate in noodling. Only five states in the United States have laws explicitly permitting handfishing: Louisiana, Mississippi, Oklahoma, Tennessee; and since 2005, Georgia. Missouri has an experimental noodling season in 2005 on sections of three rivers, from June 1 through July 15. Noodlers Anonymous argues that the season is doomed to fail, though, because these river sections are too dangerous, too crowded, or otherwise not desirable for the sport."

You can see some amazing pics of noodlers HERE and HERE

Shoving one's hand down a 40 pound catfish's mouth may seem a little dangerous, especially if you have to dive underwater and shove your arm down a mudhole to do it, but apparently it's the water moccasins and beavers that can really cramp your style. They say you should always noodle using the buddy system...not so much cause of drowning but because your freakin arm may get chewed to a bloody stump or injected with lethal venom. Now thats what I call a relaxin afternoon of fishing.

To see a quicktime movie of some noodlers doing their thing, click HERE

Is it a coincidence that mullets seem to be prevalent in this sport? I think not.

Waiter? Theres a hand in my catfish! Don't worry sir...it's the beaver that killed him.

others not have way

2005-12-30T10:39:00.000-08:00

I remember waiting tables at a Mexican joint called La Pinata. This was maybe 22 years ago. One day, this group of about 8 japanese business men came in for lunch. They spoke very little english. Just enough to get by. Someone back home had obviously told them to be sure and pronounce the letter "L" and to try real hard not to have it sound like an "R", because they were rearry rearry trying hard to do that.

Seriously, I think it took that table a good 15 minutes to spit out "Chili Rellenos" and "Quesidillas". And they made sure to pronounce every L. Hell, when there's two "L"s they must really need to be pronounced properly right?

For a brief moment, I was tempted to explain to them that they had it right for Chili but the Relleno was actually supposed to have a "Y" sound, and same with Quesidilla. I didn't of course. It didn't seem fair.

THIS SITE explores what happens when foreign businesses make signs and tshirts and marketing materials without rearry knowing what they're saying.

Word Up

2005-12-30T07:27:00.000-08:00

For all you wordsmiths out there....very cool

Visual Thesaurus

You don't poke the mask of the old lone ranger and you don't mess around with Vin.

2005-12-29T06:27:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine sent me this little ditty. That Vin Diesel is one bad mutha. I've read it 5 or 6 times and I'm still crackin up.

*****
If you rearrange the letters in Vin Diesel it reveals his credo: "I End Lives."
When Vin Diesel drinks pee, his asparagus smells funny.
There is no theory of evolution, just a list of creatures Vin Diesel allows to live.
There is no "I" in team. There are two "I"s in Vin Diesel. #### you, team.
When Vin Diesel goes to donate blood, he declines the syringe, and instead requests a hand gun and a bucket.
In an average living room there are 1,242 objects Vin Diesel could use to kill you, including the room itself.
When Vin Diesel was born, the nurse said, "Holy crap! That's Vin Diesel!" Then she had sex with him. At that point, she was the third girl he had slept with.
Crop circles are Vin's way of telling the world that sometimes corn needs to lie the #### down.
Vin Diesel once walked down the street with a massive erection. There were no survivors.
When Vin Diesel jumps into a body of water, he doesn't get wet. The water gets Vin instead.
Vin Diesel is the only man to ever defeat a brick wall in a game of tennis.
Vin Diesel has two speeds: walk and kill.
Vin Diesel has always been able to find Waldo, except for one time. He found himself stumped on the last page of Where's Waldo Now?, not being able to find the Waldo without a shoe. He threw the book down and screamed, "This is BULLSHIT!" They're all wearing shoes." He then proceeded to eat the book and exclaim, "IF I CAN'T FIND WALDO, THEN NO ONE CAN!" The book he ate belonged to a child that he had borrowed it from. The child began to cry and Vin ate him for good measure. The incident has since been refered to as Christmas.
Vin Diesel is not lactose intolerant, he just refuses to put up with lactose's ####.
You are what you eat. That is why Vin Diesel's diet consists entirely of bricks, steel, and the tears of small children.
Vin Diesel can divide by zero.
In fine print at on the last page of the Guiness Book of World Records it notes that all world records are held by Vin Diesel, and those listed in the book are simply the closest anyone has ever come to matching him.
Vin Diesel is the reason why Waldo is hiding.
Vin Diesel can set ants on fire with a magnifying glass. At night.
Vin Diesel once beat Super Mario Bros 3 without even touching his Nintendo controller. He just yelled at his TV in between bites of his "Filet of Child" sandwich, and the game beat itself out of fear.
If you were to lock Vin Diesel in a room with a guitar, a year later you would have the greatest album ever, it would sweep the Grammy's. When asked why he doesn't do this Vin replied "Because Grammy's are for queers." Then he ate a knife to show the seriousness of his response.
On his birthday, Vin Diesel randomly selects one lucky child to be thrown into the sun.
Vin Diesel doesn't believe in rubber condoms. Instead, he sticks his penis in a girl, and uses that girl as a condom while ####### another.
Vin Diesel played Russian Roulete with a fully loaded gun and won.
The eternal conundrum "what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object" was finally solved when Vin Diesel punched himself in the face.
Magnetic compasses do not point toward true North - they point in the direction of Vin Diesel. He just likes to sit on a lawn chair and shout, "Jackets are for #######!" at the Acrtic researchers.
Vin Diesel was the hunter who shot Bambi's Mother. He then wore her carcass like it was a coat while he made his rounds at the local children's hospital.
When Vin Diesel does a pushup, he isn't lifting himself up, he's pushing the Earth down.
Vin Diesel invented black. In fact, he invented the entire spectrum of visible light. Except pink. Tom Cruise invented pink.
Whenever Vin Diesel puts out a cigarette, he throws it in slow motion into a long line of gasoline and calmly walks away as an inferno erupts behind him.
*********

Wow....all that and some badass thespian skills!

one more day til friday. Happy thursday everyone

Cute or what?

2005-12-27T18:34:00.000-08:00

I took this picture of my nephew while he was standing on a street corner in Old San Juan last week. I ask you...is this kid cute or what?

I'm Baaaaack!

2005-12-25T07:03:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas morning so this is a quick one!

First.....Merry Merry Christmas to all.

Second...Since I got home from my cruise last night at 12:06, technically, it was christmas. So I opened my secret santa gift.

Major props to Alpharat. I love MC5. I love Detroit. I love Rock-n-Roll! I'm in Grand Rapids now but grew up in Ann Arbor so Detroit is no stranger to me and you're right...Detroit IS Rock-n-Roll. My turntable bit the dust a little while back, but my sweetie and I play cards with another Detroit transplant every week who's got a system that rocks....I plan on bringing my own tunes over there the next time we get together. What a really really excellent gift. Thanks for putting so much thought into it. Do you like the Detroit Cobras?

Merry Christmas to you all. After being gone for a over a week, I don't know how I'll catch up on all the blogs, but I shall do my best.

Peace, Love, and Bobby Sherman.

Futuristic Pizza

2005-12-15T05:21:00.000-08:00

My politics are no big secret, and I TRY not to post too much regarding them, but occasionally I run across something good that I feel the need to share.

Here's a cute little piece that shows what it might be like to order a pizza in 2012 if the good ole boys in the whitehouse keep at it the way they have been.

Check it out: CLICK HERE!

Show tunes and the Cruise.

2005-12-14T07:36:00.000-08:00

So this morning I was driving into work and this song from the Broadway Hit "Oklahoma" pops into my head. First off, let me explain that my mom was a dancer and my dad was an opera singer, so I've had my share of Man of LaMancha's and Swan Lakes and Brigadoons and Oklahomas and Three Penny Operas and Pirates of Penzance. Not to mention West Side Stories and Carousels and Singin in the Rains. Yes, I spent many a road trip as a kid singing The Sound of Music with my folks and two sisters. Yes, I am just insecure enough to have to explain WHY I have knowledge of showtunes so that you don't all think I prance around the house in a pink mumu when I'm not kneeling in front of my Judy Garland altar.

Anyway...back to the tune. It's the classic "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" and it starts like this:

There's a bright, golden haze on the meadow
There's a bright, golden haze on the meadow.
The corn is as high as an elephant's eye
And it looks like it's climbing clear up to the sky.

Now...this tune from oklahoma pops into my head....probably because I drive through farmland in the morning and the sun was rising...but the lyrics were something entirely different. You see, when I was a kid I used to have several "Mad Magazine Paperbacks" that did parodies of stuff. One of those parodies popped into my head this morning. The Parody was something like "If Marcus Welby M.D. were sung to the tunes of Oklahoma"

so the lyrics that popped into my head that I can't get out of my head this morning are:

There's a bright golden cyst on his elbow
There's a bright golden cyst on his elbow

I don't remember the rest but it had to do with pus and lances.

I searched on the web for that paperback this morning but unfortunately, there were a lot of "sing along with Mad" books produced and I can't find the one with Oklahoma on it.

I did however find out the following:

"In 1961 Irving Berlin sued Mad magazine for parodying his classic songs, "Cheek to Cheek" and "Easter Parade" in a special issue, "Sing Along with Mad." Only a cranky old man and his high-priced lawyers could fail to see that chasing Alfred E. Newman around the Hall of Justice was the best vaudeville show of all.

The suit dragged on for several years, then went against Berlin. The composer was strongly rebuked from the bench on the importance of parody and satire in social affairs by Judge Irving R. Kaufman, the dour jurist who had sent the Rosenbergs to the electric chair."

Apparently, Rodgers and Hammerstein, who composed Oklahoma, had better senses of humor than Irving Berlin.

Friday I head to Miami, get on a big ass boat, and then head for Puerto Rico, Virgin Islands, and the Bahamas. Back home Christmas Eve.

Happy Happy holidays to you all.

A splash of home

2005-11-28T15:37:00.000-08:00

Mostly from following 'zillas links, I have seen a lot of snippets of y'alls lives and surroundings. I thought I would share a little holiday cheer from my corner of the internet.

When you come into the house, you are greeted by Carleigh. She's the sad looking dog on my banner. She doesn't normally look that sad, but dogs just have that ability.

If he's not feeling too lazy, you may also be greeted by Merlin. Merlin takes after me. He likes to eat and drink, has a big tummy, and loves to lounge in the comfy chair.

Once the animal greetings are done and you look up, the first thing you see is this painting. My fiancee Cheryl painted it. She's part native american. Her tribe was the Samish tribe...a peaceful fishing tribe in northern washington state. The painting is of a huge totem that is in Washington called Samish maiden.

This is me and Cheryl dancing at her daughters wedding

This is her daughter with her new husband

These are some of my martini glasses. If it's not ketel one on the rocks with a splash of lime, it's a vodka martini, shaken, stirred, who gives a crap?

I used to smoke like a chimney. Here are some of my antique cigarette lighters

Here is the comfy chair that Merlin and I fight over

Here is our Christmas Tree.

This is my Martini glass ornament

This is the bodiless snowman ornament

This is the bodiless angel ornament

This is my favorite ornament. It's a little yarn reindeer head that Cheryls daughter made about 25 years ago. If you squeeze the sides the mouth opens and you can put candy in there. He is missing an eye. Lots of our ornaments are misfits.

This is the reindeer with the mouth open and a 25 year old peppermint inside!

Happy Holidays.

ANOTHER LIST

2005-11-23T08:27:00.000-08:00

Almost every morning when I get to work I make a playlist of music to listen to for the day, or at least a portion thereof. I try to be sure that I keep cycling the new with the old so it all stays kind of fresh. I look at my recently played list, and then I don't use those artists for a little bit. One of the reasons I do this is because music has the same ability to trigger memories as smell does. You smell zippo lighter fluid and it reminds you of grandpa. You hear Reelin In the Years and you remember piling into a car at lunchtime to skip the afternoons classes and go to the park. I like all the remembering I do when songs come on.

Here's my playlist for the day, with little snippets of info to accompany them where I've deemed necessary. I'm always looking for great music...especially local music that I may not have had a chance to get exposed to, so feel free to "hip me" to those scenes if you know of any worthy artists.

Wednesdays Tunage, by Jonathan

1. Push the little daisies, by WEEN. It's just a great song to start a day with.

2. Got Messed Up, by R.L. BURNSIDE. from his album "Wish I Was in Heaven Sitting Down." He died on Sept 2 of this year and I hate the fact that he will not be sharing more of his music with us.

3. Jungle Room - DELBERT McCLINTON - It's Delbert...what can you say. Great stuff

4. ScareCrow - BECK - from his album Guero. A must own album. Seriously.

5. New Slang - THE SHINS - Got turned onto these guys from the Garden State Movie. They win lyrics of the day listed at the end of this post.

6. Franks Wild Years - TOM WAITS

7. Paper Airplane - WILLIE PORTER - This guy is AMAZING! Really talented and in touch. Listen to this song by checking out his site BY CLICKING HERE (you can hear more than just that song on the site) Willie Porter also takes part in 1% For The Planet which is an alliance of businesses committed to leveraging their resources to create a healthier planet. Members recognize their responsibility to and dependence on a healthy environment and donate at least 1% of their annual net revenues to environmental organizations worldwide. The alliance aims to prove that taking environmental responsibility is good for business.

8. And then I'm playing the whole Jack Johnson "In between dreams" CD, because its really good stuff even if everyone in the world has already overplayed this disc.

9. If they haven't let us go early by the time thats over, I'm going to shuffle about 6 cd's worth of cuban mp3's that a friend of mine gave me after recently visiting the land of Castro. I've been threatening to do the ballroom dance thing with my fiancee for years now, so I should probably start getting the rhumba, salsa, mambo juju coarsing through my veins.

Back to work now.

Happy thanksgiving to you all.

NEW SLANG - The Shins

Gold teeth and a curse for this town were all in my mouth.
Only, i don't know how they got out, dear.
Turn me back into the pet that i was when we met.
I was happier then with no mind-set.

And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree
And i'd a danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.

New slang when you notice the stripes, the dirt in your fries.
Hope it's right when you die, old and bony.
Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall,
Never should have called
But my head's to the wall and i'm lonely.

And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree
And i'd a danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.

God speed all the bakers at dawn may they all cut their thumbs,
And bleed into their buns 'till they melt away.

I'm looking in on the good life i might be doomed never to find.
Without a trust or flaming fields am i too dumb to refine?
And if you'd 'a took to me like
Well i'd a danced like the queen of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.

PUT the Q-TIP BACK!

2005-11-22T07:55:00.000-08:00

True story. Happened to a buddy. Makes me laugh every time I think about.

It goes under the category "you know you're having a bad day when..."

First a little background....when you make the wrong choices and sleep with girls who have perhaps also made some wrong choices, invariably you will experience the joys of an STD.

When this happens you go to the doc for antibiotics...but the doc has to culture you by shoving a small q-tip straight up the ole willy. This ensures an accurate diagnosis so that the correct antibiotics can be prescribed.

This little q-tip swabbing around in there also ensures that the next few times you take a leak, it will feel very similar to pissing white hot pieces of broken glass wrapped in brillo and barbed wire.

AND....the actual process of swabbing is...how you say....freaking knee-knockingly painful.

with that said....

You know you're having a bad day when you go to the doctor to get your willy cultured and when it's all over you look down and see the doctor looking up with a sheepish look on his face saying "woops" and upon closer examination you see that the q-tip that was just in your willy is now on the floor.

Docs around the world...please....hang on to those q-tips.

For the record...this really did happen to a friend, and not me. When I had to go through it my doc at least hung on to the damn q-tip.

Mall Etiquette.

2005-11-21T18:41:00.000-08:00

After experiencing a brief sojourn to the land of the shopping mall this weekend, I thought I might share some general "mall etiquette" for any of those people who could use it.

You will notice that mall traffic is kind of like a racetrack. Traffic moves in a sort of "band" much like race-cars do. The people are the cars. Fast people kind of pass on the "outside" while the slow people kind of meander...window shopping if you will. Stores are continuously on your right hand side. You can see the other stores on your left, and can proceed on your merry way knowing that as you complete a "circuit" you will INEVITABLY encounter the other store. There is no need to "shoelace" back and forth, dodging in and out of the well behaved traffic.

At any given moment you will see approximately 90% of the mall's occupants moving with this flow. The other 10% are either sitting in "resting chairs" that are provided at the mall's expense, or they are pissing people off. I think it's about 3% sitting in chairs and 7% pissing people off.

?

To those who are sitting: More power to you! You have recognized the fact that you are tired or bored or maybe the ole 'roids are acting up. Whatever. The point is that you have located the plethora of chairs provided by the mall and have parked your ass in one of them. You know you should sit and you do...in a reasonable place.

To those remaining who are not sitting: Fuck You! You have decided to go against the flow. O.k...so you're an individual and you march to the beat of a yada yada yada. Its great. Its "individual." But...for some reason when you're at the mall YOU have to get an attiitude. There is no need to get a pissed off, frustrated look on your face when you encounter resistance to your destination because you are, in essence, swimming upstream (against all the people who may very well have their own sense of "individuality" but have decided to march like lemmings for that short period of time so they don't upset the whole mall contiuum. Continuum, by Webster's definition, is: a coherent whole characterized as a collection, sequence, or progression of values or elements varying by minute degrees.)

And speaking of minute degrees...there is also no need to further express your dissatisfaction by sighing heavily while you have to wait for the PROPERLY moving traffic so that you can get into the store in front of you. The very same store that, by the way, would have eventually been in front of you if you had just gone with the flow.

The "no need to sigh and look pissed" thing goes double if you are pushing a baby stroller with twins and are tying your shoe prior to entering the store (directly in the middle of the stream of traffic). The "no need to sigh and look pissed" thing goes triple if you have triplets in strollers and a winnebago sized husband sporting a mullet AND you're trying to get into Fredericks of Hollywood but your OTHER 8 kids besides the triplets aren't exactly cooperating. Congrats...THE ENTIRE stream of well behaved shoppers has now been re-routed around you. Bravo. I'm not even going to get into the pretzels with mustard thing. And it all goes quadruple if you're all adults with no clue standing around with your heads up your ass. Cellphones? I will not go there at this juncture.

This one is for everyone, but especially the young men. The food court is for 2 things and 2 things only. The first is eating shitty food, and the second is to try and get into girls' pants. The "get into girls pants" things only applies to kids under 16. Lets face if... you're over 16, you should have a car and do your "pants getting into thing" in a back seat somewhere. However, if you're under 16, and have the extra cash to buy a hot pretzel for your sweetie, then by all means make your move. BUT ONLY IN THE FOOD COURT. This way, I don't have to look at you playing grab ass with some girl who hasn't even lost her baby fat yet. I know she hasn't lost her baby fat yet because it is spilling out over the size 0 jeans and lycra top that she is wearing as she heads back to the center of the mall to meet her mom who is wearing the same thing. It goes nice with the braces though....sort of a maturity hat trick.

And with all that said, I direct this comment to the 3 people who, at least 3 different times, I crossed paths with at Rivertown Crossings in Grand Rapids Michigan on Saturday at approximately 11:00 a.m.

If you are so lazy that you have to rest at the mall during peak hours, don't go there. If you have to go there, don't sit three across on the stairs that people use to get from the second level of the mall to the first level. Don't talk on your cell phones and eat pretzels while you're sitting there. Use the chairs that are provided to rest your lazy asses. Better yet, since you were all stuffing your faces with hot pretzels, sit your asses down in the food court. That way, I don't have to watch you eat, I don't have to dodge around you, thereby incurring the wrath of the people who are going UP the stairs, and who knows...if you hang in the foodcourt long enough you may just get lucky.

Call for entries.

2005-11-16T06:15:00.000-08:00

I need a name.

Over the past year, I've had some freelance design work just fall into my lap. Enough that my annual income has increased by a good chunk. To that end, I've decided to actually create a business name, logo, etc etc and run my freelance work like an actual company...maybe even get some more business. Maybe get rich. Go figure. Anyway, back in the day when all I did was freelance, I was Guinn Design. Boring. I want something else. I need something else. I've been trying to brainstorm, but I get bupkus.

White Chocolate Trickz is reserved for my pimpin gigs.

Sir Freelancelot is a little corny, but I could see a fun promo piece coming out of it.

Pixel Sluts certainly provides some great promotional opportunities, but I don't think Grand Rapids is Ready for it.

iDesigner might be catchy. It would certainly fit in with the Mac environment and the whole iPod, iTunes, iPhoto, iPee, iPoop, iEat craze thats going around.

Hell, I just don't know. But if you're a friend, or a stranger, and you're reading this, feel free to leave any suggestions as to what you think would be a good name for a design company. If I end up going with a submission from this post, I'll will create a T-shirt with the new name and logo the lucky winner will get 2 of them...one for nights out and one for housepainting.

Cheers

WTF

2005-10-20T12:19:00.000-07:00

These are the boxes that hold all of the materials for design jobs I'm working on:

Yep...it's a real cluster.

When the boxes get that way, which happens at least a few times a year, I take this little orange cone and put it on my desk, facing out.

And then, I wear this hat:

Seriously....I do. I've always felt that a good camo hat really screams "I'm a sensitive renaissance man."

and since I'm in the pic posting mood...those of you who have been on this blog before may have read a post about a turkey that lived in our neighborhood. Seems like he knows how to treat the ladies cause he's back this year with 3 lovely ladies in his harem. Here's a couple of em in front of the neighbors porch.

ewwwww

2005-10-20T10:29:00.000-07:00

A sexy woman went up to the bar in a quiet rural pub...She gestured
alluringly to the bartender who approached her immediately. She seductively
signaled that he should bring his face closer to hers.As he did, she gently
caressed his full beard. "Are you the manager?" she asked, softly stroking
his face with both hands."Actually, no," he replied. "Can you get him for
me? I need to speak to him," she said, running her hands beyond his beard
and into his hair. "I'm afraid I can't," breathed the bartender. "Is there
anything I can do?" "Yes. I need for you to give him a message," she
continued, running her forefinger across the bartender's lips and slyly
popping a couple of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them
gently. "What should I tell him?" the bartender managed to say.

"Tell him," she whispered, "there's no toilet paper, hand soap, or paper
towels in the ladies room."

White Chocolate Trickz

2005-10-20T08:40:00.000-07:00

Hey kids...its time to play What's your pimpname?"

My Pimp Name Is...

White Chocolate Trickz

What's Your Pimp Name?

On Common Ground

2005-10-12T11:41:00.000-07:00

I love tall Brazilians and their spicy kisses. I like to lean in close....close enough to see the slight trace of oil on their skin and breathe in their scent. I like to feel their warmth. I love short Mexicans (and tall ones too). They smell different than the brazilians. They've got this mmmmmm about them that is irresistible. They make me take deep breaths and smile. Italians don't quite do it for me. I always find them to be too assertive and for some reason that just pisses me off. Especially in the morning, when I am most lazy. French? Where to begin....they always seem eager to please. I guess I'm just not that picky when it comes to their nationalities. One thing is for certain though. No matter which one I put my lips on, they'll always have one cream, and one sugar. God I love my coffee.

Cause I'm FREE! FREEFALLIN...

2005-10-11T07:28:00.000-07:00

Do you think he ever really feels this way? (click here)

Oatmeal and Cornmeal and...

2005-10-11T06:23:00.000-07:00

Both of my grandfathers died when I was around 19.

They lived way way south of me so I didn't see them except on special vacations and holidays. These visits were always, in my recollection, very warm and full of adventure because I was young and in a faraway city.

"Papa," my grandfather on my dad's side, gave me my first pocket knife, and took me out (much to my mother's chagrin) to shoot a shotgun. Things that he thought marked the passing of years for a young boy. We would visit and outta the blue he would look at my dad and say "don't you think it's about time this boy learned how to shoot a shotgun?" Now, whether learning to shoot a gun is a neccessity for passage into manhood is a point that I'm sure is hotly debated for many reasons, but I can tell you this...it was friggin awesome. And Papa knew it would be. I could tell by the look in his eyes.

Papa was not a highly educated man given that his matriculation ceased sometime during elementary school to paint oil rigs. This was during the depression. Conversation with Papa was never extended or profound but he always had these sayings that I had never heard before that would always make me laugh.

For some reason, a few of those sayings popped into my head this morning on my drive into work and I though I would share them with you. I still like to use some of them today.

When Papa was talking to us on the phone and my grandmother was anxiously awaiting her turn to talk he would say:

"Well, I guess I'll put your grandma on the phone now...she's running around here like a snake hit on it's head with a stick."

and when referring to his "leaner" days he would say:

"We were poor but we always had three meals a day...oatmeal, cornmeal, and miss-a-meal"

but my most favorite came when he said, as a few people were trying to pick up the entire tab for a dinner :

"Now, ain't none of us can afford that whole bill so let's just let each dog trod under it's own wagon"

trod under it's own wagon....how freakin priceless is that? (for the record, I wasn't there but the story lived on).

Anyway...that's all. Just a few thoughts on Papa.

I lied

2005-10-07T11:46:00.000-07:00

A long time ago I said I would never post anything about politics on this blog.

I lied.

Here's the story.

the other night I was shooting pool with a buddy and he was talking to this bartender. she was showing him pictures of her son on her cellphone. she scrolled past this one picture of a pregnant woman lying on the floor...I don't remember if it's her sister or friend or what.

I said to the bartender...thats a pretty cool picture...email it to me.

My buddy said, what do you want that pic for? and I said...who knows...it might be cool for graphic design...like a magazine cover or something. He said...yeah...right. I said...you'll see.

So here it is.

Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka

2005-10-07T08:40:00.000-07:00

I'm going to share some music with you

For those of you on dial-up, ignore this post. Sorry, but ya gotta pump up the bandwidth a wee bit. Is li dat. DSL mo betta den da dialup.

I've always liked seeing blogs that have a song of the day, or some album art that shows what people are listening too.

I found an album recently on the web and downloaded it.

It's called:
Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka: Various Artists:
Porn Music for the Masses Volume 1.

Were it up to me, I would add the subtitle: Music to either doink or clean house to if you've got a sense of humor and have had enough wine.

Here's what their website says about Wakka Chikka (god, I just love saying that)...

"Even if you have never seen a porn movie in your lifetime, almost everyone in the world knows what the 'Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka' represents... Each person, upon hearing it, mentally interprets the 'Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka' in their own way, fueling a range of emotions from lust to disgust. This CD represents 17 individual artists' interpretations of the 'Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka'; each providing their own unique cultural and geographic spin on the vibe that is "Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka'. From celebrations of the beauty of intimacy to a cautionary tale of excess, this collection of sound sculptures of the 'Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka' mystique from around the world will guide you into the heart of all that is 'Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka'.

So turn the lights down low, light a few candles, put this CD on the stereo and let the magic of the 'Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka' take you wherever you want to go."

Those of you who know me know that my musical tastes vary. Of course, I always find myself listening to Steely Dan at some point during the week, but when the Dan is not on, anything goes.

Anyway...check it out HERE!

Listen to a tune or two, or download the whole disc. It's free and legal and ya just can't say that about too many things.

I would recommend "THE LOVE GOD" by martini bomb and "THE PORN KING" by the funky filter.

"Give me anal pleasure please" isn't really that great a song...and I must admit my expectations weren't that high to begin with. I would rank that song title just above the sentence "Karl Rove is my friend" on the list of things you'll hear me say.

Dinner with that certain special someone.

2005-10-03T11:48:00.000-07:00

My fiancee and I went out to dinner the other night at this place in downtown Grand Rapids. It's a pretty popular place that serves TAPAS, which is spanish for tiny bite sized morsels that cost an arm and a leg. At least with chinese food, there is the illusion that you are full... for 20 or 30 minutes after you eat. With TAPAS, you get a bite, maybe two, but then the plate is gone and you have to order another one. All the dishes have incredibly long names that require rolling your r's (think rrrrruffles have rrrridges) when you order. They are all very pretty too. They're just small.

I won't say the name of the place but it ryhmes with Dan Fez.

One of the cool things about this restaurant, which made it easy to overlook the fact that I wouldn't be leaving stuffed, is the ambience. It's got this groovy mediterranean decor, and there's a hustle and bustle about it that is kinda contagious. You feel like you're in the center of a big open-air market...the smell of spices and all the sounds and color.

Oh wait....

That's what everyone else was feeling. You see...I was at the table that was upstairs, across the floor, and tucked behind a weird little portion of wall so that you're basically invisible to the restaurant, and vice versa. Now...mind you, I didn't really want to sit there, but my fiancee was starving, and being one who is susceptible to low blood sugar attacks, I knew she needed some chow and fast. So we sat. Besides...I told myself...it's the person who's across the table from you thats important...not the stupid ass ambience. When you say ambience with stupid ass in front of it, you have to say ham-bee-ince and you have to say it slowly.

So there we were, having wonderful conversation at our little table tucked in the out of the way spot. Then, THEY came. Apparently, the really cool hanging tapestries that I thought were tastefully hiding a side station or some unfinished portion of the restaurant were actually hiding tables for a party, of about 60 people. An engagement party. Since I myself am engaged, I can understand the joy that these 2 families were experiencing. Even if there were a few too many young hipsters in ripped jeans and designer shirts with too much hair gel thinking that they looked cool when if fact, they looked like idiots with too much money who didn't know where to shop, but I digress. They were all happy and having fun and that was a good thing. Until the bulk of the party started to arrive.

In order to get to the room where this fantastic party was, you had to walk upstairs, across the floor and go around this weird little portion of wall. If you glanced to your left as you did this you would have seen me and my fiancee trying to eat our fucking dinner and chat above the ever increasing din of the groovin hipster engagement party.

And...the mom of the bride to be had decided that she needed to stand right at the curtain opening, 6 feet from our table, and greet everyone who was coming in. Meet the ones she didn't know...shine shine shine...bask in the glory of her daughters occasion ....chat chat chat....in other words...bring the movement of the line of people trying to get in the room to a stand still.

What do you do when you're standing in a line and someone 1 foot away from you is trying to eat their dinner. Do you stand there and stare at their food? Turn around? I think I would turn around. That is what the elderly couple who got stalled in front of our table did. Nice of them...shitty for me...now I'm looking at Aunt Bee's balloon butt and Uncle Ernies skinny ass in 90 year polyester that does not disguise the outline of depends underneath.

Check Please.

Seriously...I asked for the bill and we went to the bar to finish our cocktails.

Now here's the thing...there's some nights where that wouldn't even faze me, and then there's other times where it really burns me to go drop 80 bucks on a bunch of artistically arranged squid rings, only to eat them staring at Mr Oops I Crapped My Pants' ass one foot away. My better half was not nearly as irked as I was, but hey...it had been a long week...the timing was right for a micro-rant.

The waitress brought the bill and kindly informed me that she thought that they just wouldn't seat that table anymore. Hey...Great! Thanks for charging me the 80 bucks and informing me that, due to MY misfortune, you won't be screwing anyone else.

I told the waitress that perhaps even WE should not have been seated there. She offered me dessert.

"Let him eat cake" they said!

I'm sitting at the bar, with a Ketel One on the rocks in front of me, and they offered me cake.

Christ.

This world is going to hell in a handbasket. Really.

Cake.

Fuck.

At least the bill came with one of those little comment cards to fill out.

The rope, the stopsign, the telephone pole and Keith W`.

2005-08-09T12:24:00.000-07:00

When I was a little kid we used to play football in Danny G's yard. My backyard was bigger but Danny's dad had Playboys to look at, and his mom worked late into the afternoon. The rest of us had moms who stayed at home and protected us from the evils of loose 5th grade women and the like. We didn't have a lot of loose 5th grade women, and we wouldn't really have known what to do with them, but a mom can sniff even the potential of looseness in a young girl. "i don't like that girls attitude" was a loose translation for "she's budding early and WHEW!...did you get a whiff of those pheremones?" So...instead of hanging out with 5th grade girls of ill repute, we played football and looked at playboys. When Danny's mom would come home, she would walk right past us all, gathered on the couch, and she would smile. I think she liked the fact that a half dozen boys were sitting on her couch trying to pretend that the playboy wasn't a big deal.

One boy that was never involved in our football games was Keith W. Keith lived a few blocks away, so he was kinda outta the loop as far as friends on the block went. Plus, Keith was kinda weird. Plus...keith cried a lot. We all cried, but not as much as Keith. Keith's crying was also accompanied by a breakneck run to his mother who would then scold us and not allow Keith to come back outside. Inevitably, phone calls would make their way into our homes, to be answered by our mothers, and the game would be over.

We were in the middle of a game of 3-on-3 football and we had a spare football lying in the corner of the yard. In the middle of a play, we all stopped to see Keith W. standing at the curb tossing the extra ball up and down. We figured if we ignored him, he would leave, we wouldn't have to invite him to play, he wouldn't cry, and it would be a good day.

Instead, Keith looked at us, flipped us the bird, and took off down the street with the ball.

We had to stop him because...well...just because.

So we hopped on our bikes and put up chase.

It didn't take very long to catch up with him and as we got just behind we all hopped off our bikes and continued the chase on foot. We knew we were going to have to tackle him, and to do so while going top speed on a banana seat bike with high handle bars is not the best idea.

Just as Keith had crossed the intersection of Red Oak and Bending Rd, he looked back to see where we were. Bad move. Up to that point, he actually had been getting away. He was a fast little football thief.

Now here is what happened next, and it is what has made me remember this story for so long.

Someone, and it wasn't one of us, had tied a rope from a stop sign to a telephone pole, crossing the sidewalk.

The height of the rope was the same as the height of Keith's neck.

We all saw it, and we all saw what was going to happen. So we stopped on the corner of Red Oak and Bending and watched Keith run full tilt into that rope. The rope hit his neck, essentially stopping all forward progress of his head. the rest of his body was still going though. Keith's feet continued forward, and then started to rise, since the rope was hooked under his chin. When his feet reached the height of his head, making him essentially parallel to the ground, he then dropped quickly to the ground, since his chin was no longer acting as a hook for the rope. His drop to the ground was cushioned by the sidewalk. Not good.

We got our football back and left Keith there on the sidewalk.

He went home and told his mom about our "trap" that had left him with a red rope burn across his neck and what would be a hilariously froggy voice for about a week.

I've often wondered how the rope got there, and why was it even there in the first place. Why did keith, who needed a lifeline at that point, get a noose instead? And whatever happened to that 5th grade girl, Leigh, who lived not too far from there.

A FISH TALE

2005-05-23T10:23:00.000-07:00

It's so nice to have warmer weather approaching. Flowers are blooming, birds are chirping, and of course...tthe fish are spawning, the fish are spawning, THE FISH ARE SPAWNING!

Yeppers...I likes me some fishin. Theres nothing better than hiking through the woods to a remote stream, carefully sneaking up to the bank so as not to cast any shadows, and inspecting, oh so closely, what little insects are hatching and scurrying across the water. Then it's time to sit back and tie that perfect fly thats going to land that big ole trout . Will it be a Chartreuse Striper Fly? Maybe a Clouser Style Minnow or a Crocheted Caddis Pupa. It all depends on what goodies I've got left in the ole box-o-materials. So I sit back and commence with my tying, all the while examining the currents of the stream, the different rocks and logs that may impede my fine feathered creation from drifting over the exact, special spot that I want it to drift....

Oh...who the hell am I kidding. I DONT FLYFISH! Sheesh...you think I've got the patience for all that microscopic detail...the hours of practice with those oversize rods...the whole "A River Runs Through It" load of crap. Hell no!

I fish for bass. While drinking beer. In a big noisy motor boat that is not even close to an idyllic stream. This aint about getting back to nature my friends...it's about landing the LUNKER LARGEMOUTH! Bikinis on jet-skis are an added bonus.

So....I will be doing some bass fishing soon, and it made me think of the biggest freshwater fish I've ever seen on a line.

It was back in the mid 70's.

Our family used to spend the summers in a town called Interlochen where there is this music camp that we all went to. Interlochen is located on a lake...well, technically 2 lakes, but Green lake is where our cottage was.

On a lot of evenings, my sisters and I would pick out a big ole lure and just fish from the docks. One of our favorite lures (we only had one tackle box so we shared) was this Rapala Minnow. It's a minnow lure thats about 3-1/2 to 4 inches long, with 3 treble hooks dangling from it's underside, located at the probiscus, abdomen, and asshole areas respectively. With 20-20 hindsight, it was stupid to be fishing with a lure that size in such shallow water, but hey...stranger things have happened right?

There wasn't a lot of room at the end of the dock, so usually, the first person who said they were going down there got to fish first. This sometimes led to a race to finish dinner and be the first one to grab a pole, as was the case with this particular evening, when my older sister beat me to the punch. This meant that I got to stay on the porch with my parents, discussing the writings of Thomas Merton and watching boxing.

A brief word about the lay of the land....From our cottage, you had to walk about 50 yards to reach the top of a tall, steep staircase. This staircase led to the dock below. It was actually quite a beautiful little bluff...half uprooted trees sticking out over the water, kingfishers and loons and raccoons close by...lots of oak trees. In fact, it wasn't uncommon, while hanging out on the dock, to have an acorn bean you on the head.

We've tried to piece together the sequence of events leading up to the amazing, biggest freshwater fish I've ever seen on a line and here's what we came up with:

My sister was casting off the edge of the dock and as she tossed her line forward, a little tree branch or something barely caught the edge of one of the Three...count em..Three treble hooks that were on that Rapala Minnow.

This slight snagging action caused the gentle arc of line and lure to be transformed into a straight path. A path that led directly to the back of my sisters head. A treble hook has 3 prongs it. The minnow had 3 treble hooks. Thats 9 barbed prongs. 6 of the 9 prongs were now firmly embedded in my sisters scalp. For some reason, she thought an acorn, or a twig, had beaned her in the head, so she started to reel in her errant cast. Well, it didn't take that long to run out of line and before she knew it, she had found the lure.

We heard a faint cry of "Mom", as she came coming up the stairs. The rod was bent way over...practically touching the tip of her head, but, to her credit, she didn't let that fish get away so easily. In fact, she had set those hooks in pretty darn good. Having hair down to the middle of her back wasn't helping that much. After much fiddling, my mom gave up...this was going to require a trip to the emergency room. Apparently the doctors there knew all about fishing and there was much discussion as to whether or not she was a keeper, or if she should be thrown back. I on the other hand, being all of 12 or 13 years of age, was lobbying big time to have her stuffed and mounted. After a few little snips, the lure was out and we were on our way back home. I fished there for several more summers, but never came close to breaking the record established by my big sis.

Cyberwhat???

2005-05-18T11:53:00.000-07:00

Cyberwhat???

O.k...I'll admit to a little flirting online way back when I first got hooked into the internet, but I never did get into the whole cybersex thing...the "I'm slowly undressing myself while I type" kinda cybersex. Just didn't get it. I was probably too busy playing dungeons and dragons or video games or something. Which is why the little gem of a cybersex conversation below is so freaking hilarious....

The conversation below can be found at http://www.albinoblacksheep.com along with about a million other cool things.

P.S...I discovered this site on another really cool site with about a million cool things

Cybersex 101

bloodninja: Baby, I been havin a tough night so treat me nice aight?

BritneySpears14: Aight.

bloodninja: Slip out of those pants baby, yeah.

BritneySpears14: I slip out of my pants, just for you, bloodninja.

bloodninja: Oh yeah, aight. Aight, I put on my robe and wizard hat.

BritneySpears14: Oh, I like to play dress up.

bloodninja: Me too baby.

BritneySpears14: I kiss you softly on your chest.

bloodninja: I cast Lvl. 3 Eroticism. You turn into a real beautiful woman.

BritneySpears14: Hey...

bloodninja: I meditate to regain my mana, before casting Lvl. 8 Cock of the Infinite.

BritneySpears14: Funny I still don't see it.

bloodninja: I spend my mana reserves to cast Mighty F*ck of the Beyondness.

BritneySpears14: You are the worst cyber partner ever. This is ridiculous.

bloodninja: Don't f*ck with me bitch, I'm the mightiest sorcerer of the lands.

bloodninja: I steal yo soul and cast Lightning Lvl. 1,000,000 Your body explodes into a fine bloody mist, because you are only a Lvl. 2 Druid.

BritneySpears14: Don't ever message me again you piece of ****.

bloodninja: Robots are trying to drill my brain but my lightning shield inflicts DOA attack, leaving the robots as flaming piles of metal.

bloodninja: King Arthur congratulates me for destroying Dr. Robotnik's evil army of Robot Socialist Republics. The cold war ends. Reagan steals my accomplishments and makes like it was cause of him.

bloodninja: You still there baby? I think it's getting hard now.

bloodninja: Baby?

-------------------

bloodninja: Ok baby, we got to hurry, I don't know how long I can keep it ready for you.

j_gurli3: thats ok. ok i'm a japanese schoolgirl, what r u.

bloodninja: A Rhinocerus. Well, hung like one, thats for sure.

j_gurli3: haha, ok lets go.

j_gurli3: i put my hand through ur hair, and kiss u on the neck.

bloodninja: I stomp the ground, and snort, to alert you that you are in my breeding territory.

j_gurli3: haha, ok, u know that turns me on.

j_gurli3: i start unbuttoning ur shirt.

bloodninja: Rhinoceruses don't wear shirts.

j_gurli3: No, ur not really a Rhinocerus silly, it's just part of the game.

bloodninja: Rhinoceruses don't play games. They f*cking charge your ass.

j_gurli3: stop, cmon be serious.

bloodninja: It doesn't get any more serious than a Rhinocerus about to charge your ass.

bloodninja: I stomp my feet, the dust stirs around my tough skinned feet.

j_gurli3: thats it.

bloodninja: Nostrils flaring, I lower my head. My horn, like some phallic symbol of my potent virility, is the last thing you see as skulls collide and mine remains the victor. You are now a bloody red ragdoll suspended in the air on my mighty horn.

bloodninja: Goddam am I hard now.

--------------

BritneySpears14: Ok, are you ready?

eminemBNJA: Aight, yeah I'm ready.

BritneySpears14: I like your music Em... Tee hee.

eminemBNJA: huh huh, yeah, I make it for the ladies.

BritneySpears14: Mmm, we like it a lot. Let me show you.

BritneySpears14: I take off your pants, slowly, and massage your muscular physique.

eminemBNJA: Oh I like that Baby. I put on my robe and wizard hat.

BritneySpears14: What the f*ck, I told you not to message me again.

eminemBNJA: Oh ****

BritneySpears14: I swear if you do it one more time I'm gonna report your ISP and say you were sending me kiddie porn you f*ck up.

eminemBNJA: Oh ****

eminemBNJA: damn I gotta write down your names or something

Madison Avenue here I come!

2005-05-13T10:57:00.000-07:00

This weeks post brought to you by Raquel Welsh steel radials...they may sag a little but they'll NEVER go flat.

In the process of working on ads and brochures, I frequently find myself coming up with directions that, while certainly making the point, aren't exactly politically correct.

Sometimes I just think of campaigns for products that I'm not even working on, and never will.

One time, while working at this antique store, we had this marble bust of Christ himself...J.C in da house peeps. I was on my way outside to have a smokey treat when someone asked me for help moving a desk. I had my smoke in my hand so I put it down...well actually, I was standing next to the bust of JC and lo and behold...it fit! Jesus was a marlboro man. I had to take a picture.

Then I had to design a pack of smokes.

I called them....Holy smokes.

Smokes for now....and the afterlife.

I had some really clever text on the back of the pack...stuff about the sermon on the mount and burning bushes. The cigarette warning on the side said something about may cause visions etc.

Anyway...since then I've had a few other ad campaigns that have really cracked me up, that probably offend other people.

My favorite one to date is an ad for frosted mini wheats.

Cut to a solitary confinement cell.
We see a prisoner from behind shackled to a chair.
He appears to be eating his breakfast.
Pan around to front of prisoner.
Its Jeffrey Dahmer!
Dahmer says: "the little boy inside of me likes the frosted side, but the big burly man in me likes the crunchy wheat".

Is this thing on?
I'll be here all week folks...try the veal.

I was reading a friends post about the pope today and I got to thinking about the whole birth control thing and it dawned on me....

the rhythm method would be a really cool name for a christian rock band don't ya think?

and maybe they could do a cover of that old 70's song "the morning after". hehehe

Now that enough time has passed, do ya think it would be o.k. to use Karen Carpenters image on a can of slimfast? I need to know.

I'm going to call a department store now and have Ann Orexia paged. I've never heard that one before.

and to think I'm wasting my time doing graphic design in the middle of a cornfield in the midwest.

Ex-girlfriends, sprained ankles and exploding toilets.

2005-04-18T08:32:00.000-07:00

About a year before my fun trip to the dental school, I was dating this girl for a while who I will call NR since those are her initials. NR was a psycho. I didn't realize it at the time, cause she was also horny, and so was I. But a month or so into the relationship...right around the time the proverbial honeymoon was over, her stalking gene pushed her horniness gene off a cliff and took over the show.

I couldn't take it. We're talking phone-calls up the wazoo...to my house, my friends houses, the pool hall, work and so on. Apparently, NR also had a must know where he is at all moments gene that worked in conjunction with the psycho gene, and they worked quite well together. It was almost as if they had worked together their entire lives.

I left a note one afternoon.
On her kitchen counter.
Breaking up with her.
Not even in person.
Big mistake.

NR was not happy. She said so. In a bunch of phone messages that I'm sure violated all kinds of decency acts for what you can say over a phone line. And it was over.

But wait!!! NR's horniness gene was not pushed off the cliff! it was hanging on with it's oh so horny fingers and managed to climb back up to the mountaintop. Psycho and must know where he is at all moments genes took a vacation and horniness got back to work.

NR hooked up with one of my best friends. He asked me if it was o.k. I tried to warn him off but told him to do what he wanted. He was horny too. Her stalking gene took over. Rinse, lather, repeat. He couldn't get rid off her.

Why does this matter? I'll tell you. This buddy of mine was a practical joker. So was I. So were all us dudes who hung out back then.

A few of us had decided to booby trap my buds apartment since he had been getting us with the exploding cigarette trick, so we went to the local hobby/magic/comic book store and purchases 3 items.

1. Exploding cigarette loads
2. Those little mini firecrackers with the strings on each end... you pull, they go bang.
and
3. Flash paper.

For those of you who don't know, flash paper is this thin piece of tissue that magicians use. Wad them into a little ball, conceal them in your hand, touch a match to them and you can toss balls of flame in the air that just disappear. no ash, no smoke. very cool.

Our plan was simple. Wrap the flash paper around the mini firecrackers. Tie the strings to any object we could find (a medicine cabinet door for example. Tie one end to the door, the other to the latch, tuck the firecracker inside the cabinet and when someone opens the medicine cabinet, BOOM and a big ball of fire). We tested it before we went over there. It was perfect.
Oh, and find every pack of smokes in the apartment and load them with exploding cigarette loads.

So we climbed his balcony and broke into the apartment a boobytrapped a ton of stuff. A buttload. Lots

Then we nonchalantly waited outside at the hotdog joint outside his apartment until he pulled up. This was a common meeting spot, so no suspicions were aroused.

He pulled up and we all filed into his apartment to hang out and watch the caper unfold.

Did he go to the bathroom when he got home? no Open his desk drawer? no. The refrigerator? no. Grab a smoke? Damn! he had some in his pocket. We were content to wait.

A moment later there was a knock on his door and then a little head peeked into the apartment.

It was NR. Crap crap crap. NO-ONE wanted to see her. Not me, not the guys I was hanging with, and not my bud who hadn't left a note breaking up with her yet but I'm sure was really close. Judging by the look on her face, she wasn't too happy to see me either. So the door opens up all the way and she comes hop hop hopping into the apartment. She didn't always hop, but had just sprained her ankle at a softball game at the nearby park.

The must know where he is at all times gene must have informed her that this would be a perfect excuse for dropping in unannounced at my buds place.

NR needed an ace bandage.
My bud told her he thought he had one in the medicine cabinet.
She hopped towards the bathroom.
This was gonna be good.

BANG! went the firecracker accompanied by a large ball of fire. AHHHH went NR. HaHaHa went all us guys except my bud who lived there since he had no idea what the hell was going on.

"VERY FUNNY" said NR from the bathroom. My bud looked confused. The rest of us were trying to get our poker faces back before she came out. But she didn't come out. She lowered the toilet seat to put the ace bandage on. (oh yes...my friends and I had the foresight, since this was a guys apartment afterall, to boobytrap the toilet seat in the "up" position so as not to arouse any suspicion.) This was getting very good.

BANG! went the firecracker accompanied by a large ball of fire. AHHHH went NR. HaHaHa went all us guys except my bud who lived there since he had no idea what the hell was going on.

I won't type what she said at that point, but it was choice. She was pissed. She thought this was intended for her. We put our pokerfaces back on. My buddy just looked at us.

NR came out of the bathroom with the ace on her ankle. She did not want to stay and chat and rather abruptly informed my buddy that if she could just bum a few smokes from him she would be more than happy to get the hell out.

"I think I've got a spare pack in my desk drawer" said my buddy"

This was becoming more than good.

She hopped across the living room, though the hop was much less pronounced now that she had the ace on and opened the desk drawer.

BANG! went the firecracker accompanied by a large ball of fire. AHHHH went NR. HaHaHa went all us guys except my bud who lived there since he had no idea what the hell was going on.

We could not, at this point, maintain any semblance of a poker face. It is hard to do when you're rolling on a floor.

NR was pissed. Very pissed. She grabbed the spare pack of smokes and got the hell outta there.

So we fessed up to our bud about what we had done. Then the phone rang

It was NR at a phone booth...very very very upset. Apparently one of the cigarettes that she had bummed had just exploded her face as she was driving away.

I don't think my bud ever even had to write a note.

Oh....thats not good.

2005-03-10T13:46:00.000-08:00

There are, I imagine, any number of phrases a soon to be dentist can mutter while slaving away at dental school, hunched over their patients, needle in hand.
"You're going to feel a little prick"
"Are you sure thats pain and not pressure? A lot of patients confuse the two."
and
"Oh, thats not good" immediately followed by "Don't swallow".

I can assure you that the "oh, that's not good" immediately followed by "don't swallow" bothered me the most.

I've had my thoughts concerning the other statements. Respectively:
"you ARE a little prick"
and
"How bout you feel the pressure of my fist against your nose and tell me if it's pain or not?"

but the "Oh, thats not good" immediately followed by "Don't swallow" got to me. No snappy comback.

More like "What the FUCK!"

Lets hit the wayback machine and look at the events leading up to this predicament.

A long time ago...almost half my life ago...I was a poor bartender floundering through my 20's. Health insurance? nope. 401K? nope. Dental Plan? big fat no. Murphy's Law dictates that it must be at this precise stage of life that many wisdom teeth must be pulled. So while lamenting my oral woes with a friend over cold beers, he says "check out the U of M dental school. I had mine done there for like 60 bucks a tooth." I'm thinking...hmmm...60 x 4 is at least like 236 bucks....far less than the figure provided to me by the gentleman in the office with the nice music and the nice chairs and the diplomas on the walls and family and fishing and golf pictures on the desk.

It looked like the J-man was gonna save himself a little scratch.

So it was off to the dental school. It didn't have as nice an office and there was no music, but the chairs were comfortable and the people were nice. I can't believe, even now, that I was naive enough to fall for the nice people and comfortable chairs trick. God...what an idiot. A couple of days after my initial visit, there I was back at the dental school, signing waivers and sitting down in a not so comfortable chair. They save THOSE chairs for after you've signed the papers and stepped around back.

They put a bib on me, but did not bring out a tray of lobster. Instead, they brought a tray of novacaine. To have nitrous was 75 bucks extra. On my budget? Not a chance. So we start with the shots.

Lets hit the way forward machine now.

"You're going to feel a little prick" the my-agish dental school student said. Fine...I had heard this before...just get it over with. Shots in the back of the jaw, a couple more mini injections around the teeth on the left, shot in the back of the jaw (other side) and more mini injections.

"I'll be back in about 10-15 minutes to see how we're numbing up." Boy...we were numbing up. Definite lazy tongue not even tingling anymore kinda numbing up.

"So how are we doing here?"
"numb"
"Good good...lets get started."

So he grabs these mini-forceps-looking pliers and hunches over me. After some skillful manuevering, he's got a good grip on the first tooth and starts to really reef down on that sucker.

"AHHHHHHH" I say, cause it really really hurts.

He stops what he's doing long enough to pull the pliers outta my mout
"that really hurt" I say
and he says...you guessed it...
"Are you sure thats pain and not pressure? A lot of patients confuse the two."
"I'm sure"
"O.k....lets give you another shot back there and we'll come back to that one.

So the tray of pliers gets swiveled to the back position and the tray of novacaine comes back to the front. Another hit to the back of the jaw, and I hear this little popping sound...kind of like a needle poking through the other side of a set of gums, immediately followed by this very cool cool feeling in the back of my throat and a very bitter taste filling my mouth and nostrils.

"Oh...thats not good" he says. "Don't swallow".

Then what does he do? He LEAVES the room to go get the senior "I'm here to supervise but actually have a nice office with nice music and chairs and pretty pictures" guy. Now...a lot of you have probably figured this one out, but for those of you who haven't made the leap yet...It's impossible to hold a pool of novacaine at the back of your throat ala Listerine, and NOT swallow. Maybe for 15 or 20 seconds....but definitely NOT as long as it took shithead to come back to the room with bossman who glared at him and told me to spit (what was left) out.

I'm numb. Really numb. Numb enough that my throat has closed up a bit. They said a bit. It felt like a lot. It was enough that they had to put the little 2 pronged oxygen thingy in my nose to pipe in some fresh air.

Once they had air for me to breathe, it was back to work. Shithead (I refuse to call him anything else for the remainder of this story) goes back to the same tooth that hurt the first time...gets a grip...and this time...I feel a little pressure, but no pain. See...I CAN tell the difference. Cool...this won't be as bad as I thought. I feel...more than hear, although it feels like I'm hearing it...the strange sounds of root leaving flesh and gum and then voila...out come the forceps with a little tooth in them.

Now we're cooking with gas. Grab the upper tooth...same sensation and bingo presto...another tooth. I'm sure that shithead, since I later found out that it was his first extraction, was probably thinking "hey...this isn't so bad."

On to tooth number three...a little pressure, no pain, and whoopsy daisy...shithead drops the tooth down the back of my throat. While I don't feel it hit the back of my throat, I am aware that it is there, because what little air passage was remaining after shithead squirted novacaine down my gullet has now been blocked off. Every part of my being was saying "Cough...gag...do SOMETHING to remove the obstruction." Folks...it just wasn't happening. Usually you breathe in first when you cough...can't do that very well...usually your throat muscles aren't totally relaxed when you gag. My throat muscles were so relaxed it was as if they had been Rolfed for 12 hours by Sven the swedish massage technician. Fortunately, shithead was able to pound on my back hard enough that the tooth came flying out and hit the floor. Then he put the oxygen tube back in my nose which had come flying out into my lap.

Finally...tooth number four. No big deal...shithead only snapped that one in half...the forceps slamming into the side of my faced caused more swelling and bruising than the actual teeth coming out, and then Mr.
I'm here to supervise but actually have a nice office with nice music and chairs and pretty pictures had to come in and drill and tweezer the other half of the tooth out of my jaw.

There is salt in the wound for this story as well. Do you think I got even ONE lousy vicodin outta the whole rotten ordeal?...nope. Not even an industrial strength motrin. Not even a "sorry for puncturing the other side of your gums, numbing your throat, slamming pliers into the side of your head and almost suffocating you."

I didn't go to the dentist for a very long time after that. Coffee stains were easier to live with than to rekindle that fond memory.

I'm over it now though and I was at the dentist a little while ago for a filling.

She said my blood pressure was up for this visit (I still don't know why they take your BP there, but they do).

"Oh...thats not good" I said.

Why do I blog?

2005-03-02T12:22:00.000-08:00

Ever since I started this thing a couple months ago, a fair percentage of the people I've mentioned my blog to, if they don't have their own blog already, have asked my why I do it?

The answer is simple: for the hell of it.

I've heard all kinds of questions regarding my blog:

"At what point does it start to produce revenue?"

"So it's just basically an online popularity contest?"

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

If I wanted it to produce revenue, I would have invented a product, started to sell it, developed a WEBSITE for the product and so on. I have no delusions of grandeur regarding how popular I would be stacked up against the rest of the internet so it ain't that (who can compete with a blog called Confessions of a London Call Girl) and NO, I don't have anything better to do, except maybe play poker online...something I've become quite enamored with (and I'm slightly better than average at it I might at.)

Some blogs have themes. I'm not sure what mine is, or if there will ever be one. I have noticed that I frequently find myself telling a funny story from my past, so I guess humor could be a theme. But I don't think a blog has to have a theme.

While I wonder how many people have visited my blog, I haven't put a counter on it. I'm not sure if it's because I'm trying to keep my ego in check, or because I'm afraid I will see 0000016 as the total number of visitors for weeks on end, thereby shattering any notions I might have that people actually read this thing.

So, while there are plenty of things I'm not sure about, there are a bunch of things I am sure about with regard to this thing called blogging. Since I've noticed that LISTS seem to be awfully popular amongst bloggers, I though I would make my own list of things that this blog will never be about. I'm calling the list ...drumroll please..."My own list of things this blog will never be about".

Here it is:

MY OWN LIST OF THINGS THIS BLOG WILL NEVER BE ABOUT, part one

This blog will never be about politics.
This blog will never be about religion.
This blog will never be about war, ongoing, past or upcoming.
This blog will never be about the sexual orientation of others.
This blog will never belittle anyone who has a different skin color than me.

I'm oh so very tired of intolerance on all of the above issues. I have my opinions, you have yours. Acknowledge. Move on.

This blog will never be about my sex life, past or present. Past because it's in the past and present because it's none of your business.

This blog will never be a sounding board for all the depressing things that have happened, are happening, or might happen to me in the future. The name of the blog is "A splash of lime" not "I'm going to go lock myself in a dark room and listen to The Cure all day"

This blog will never be 100% serious. A little brevity goes a long way.
This blog will never be about Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake, or 90% of the people you see on the cover of People magazine.

This blog will never be about scrapbooking, needlepoint, or knitting

This blog will never be about NASCAR
This blog will never be about hunting
This blog will never be about the World Wrestling Federation
This blog will never be about how much I miss The Dukes of Hazzard

O.K. I think I've got the hang of this whole listing thing now, and I hope I haven't narrowed the subject matter down so much that I never have anything to write about.

As I sit here and type, it's becoming more clear to me what the purpose of this blog is. It's a way to experience a new kind of community. It's a way to share. It's a way to keep a bit of a journal and find folks who like the way you think, or don't like the way you think but are willing to have a logical dialogue about it. It's a new thing (for me at least) and a fun thing (for now at least) and it's just....because.

ciao for now folks
J

SHIT

2005-02-23T08:15:00.000-08:00

Damn it all to hell. Hunter Stockton Thompson passed away. Well, I suppose passed away is a rather subtle way of putting it. More like forcibly removed important portions of his gray matter with what I would guess to be a large caliber weapon, given his penchant for firearms. Small surprise that in his will he requests that his ashes be shot out of a cannon at his funeral. A friend of his is quoted as saying: "his afterlife ambition was to become cannon fodder...literally."

Some people have a way with words...others not have way. Hunter had way my friends. Big way. Way Way. Way with a huge huge W. The first step in his journey to become cannon fodder has left a large gaping hole in the journalistic community at a time when there is no time for wounds. Oh sure, that hole will fill in over time as all things do, but there will always be a slight depression, a dip in the road of journalism so to speak. That dip used to be a bump. The kind of bump that sends the coffee flying and makes you wish you had your seatbelt on. The kind of bump that says:

"We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive..." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?"

and thats just the opening paragraph.

You see...the thing is, Hunter S. Thompson wrote in such a way that even if you didn't have a frame of reference for his outlandish cavortings, even if you didn't agree with his political leanings, even if things just got a little too weird, you could still relate to what he was saying...on a gut level. There was that certain special something he had when he told his stories that let the reader know that it was seat belt time boys and girls...strap em on cause you're in for a long ride and you will get bounced around a bit. You are committed. Committed in the way that the pig is to bacon, not the way the chicken is to the egg. From Hell's Angels to George Bush, HST had them all pegged and exposed every raw nerve for all to see. Then he sprinkled a little salt around to drive his point home.

Only Hunter S. Thompson could run for sherrif of Pitkin County Colorado on the Freak Power Ticket. The republican sheriff he was running against had a crewcut. What did Hunter do? Shaved his head bald and called the other guy "my long haired opponent."

Cheers to you Mr. Thompson...not for the way you left us, but for what you left us. When they fire that cannon and the dust settles, there will be more than a few of us having a Heineken and a shot of Wild Turkey in your honor.

Cool Whip In My Hair

2005-02-14T11:39:00.000-08:00

When I was younger, around age 13, the Eagles came out with their album "Hotel California." I thought this album was the greatest thing since sliced bread for 2 reasons:

Reason Number 1.
In the song "Life in the Fast Lane" they said the word "Goddamn." This was a big deal for the radio stations so they blipped it out and the only way you could hear it was to own the album. Since we weren't allowed to swear in my house, I felt like I was getting away with something.

Reasons Number 2.
My little sister kept running around the house singing the title track, only she sang: "On a dark desert highway, cool whip in my hair." This cracked me up to no end. I guess it should have been dessert anyway.

We've all had those moments of mistaken lyrics, and hilarity usually ensues. Thats why you MUST go to this website:

www.kissthisguy.com

If you don't get the title then you didn't listen to hendrix so I'll explain it: In the song Purple Haze, Jimi says "'scuse me while I kiss the sky". Well...someone didn't quite hear it correctly and...you get the picture.

Anyway, this website has quite the extensive list of songs, and you can go visit and check out other peoples blunders and even enter your own. There's a place to say how old you were when you discovered you were wrong, how embarrassing the moment was, do you think your lyrics are better and so on.

Check it out...seriously.

My great lyrical blunder? When I was about 14 I was washing dishes in a restaurant and there were all these other guys working in the kitchen. They were all a little older and I thought they were cool. One day, the song "Peace Train" by Cat Stevens was on the radio. There I was singing along, washing my dishes, when one of the prep cooks came over and asked me:

"What did you say?"

"What?"

"The name of the song you're singing."

"Oh... G String...you know...G String sounding louder, loud on the G String"

I had taken guitar lessons...I knew what a G string was. Which is why I was so confused when all the guys in the kitchen doubled over with laughter. So Ricky the prep cook says:

"It's PEACE TRAIN you dumbass...Do you even know what a g string is?"

"Sure! It's a guitar string"

Again...I had taken guitar lessons...I knew what a G string was. Which is why I was so confused when all the guys in the kitchen doubled over with laughter AGAIN. So Ricky the prep cook tells me what the other kind of g-string is.

"AHHHH"

I never knew they were called THAT! I had always called them sexy underwear and knew that when worn by the proper type of woman Mr. Happy came to life (the women in the penthouses and hustlers always had them on. My buddy's dad just left those magazines out in the open, which made him the coolest dad in the world).

So there you have it. Who knew lingerie and world peace were so inexorably entwined.

P.S. If you think Purple Haze, Hotel California, and Peace Train are all shots you drank at the last rave you went to, go away. You're too young to be reading this blog anyway.

Now that took some balls...

2005-02-08T13:42:00.000-08:00

and in other news from around the world:

LONDON (Reuters)- A welsh rugby fan cut off his own testicles to celebrate Wales beating England at rugby, the Daily Mirror reported Tuesday.

Geoff Huish, 26, was so convinced England would win Saturday's match he told fellow drinkers at a social club, "If Wales win I'll cut my balls off," the paper said.

Friends at the club in Caerphilly, south Wales, thought he was joking.

But after the game Huish went home, severed his testicles with a knife, and walked 200 yards back to the bar with the testicles to show the shocked drinkers what he had done.

Huish was taken to hospital where he remained in serious condition, the paper said.

Wales's 11-9 victory over England at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff was their first home win over England in 12 years.

Ed. note: If you're ever in ANY club in Caerphilly, south Wales, and you order a martini...do NOT...I repeat...do NOT get olives with it.

Random thought...is he any good in the sack?

other random thought....can a stitch in time save two?

other random thought...do you think he was feeling a little teste the next day?

Human Whoopie Cushion

2005-02-07T13:17:00.000-08:00

Well friends, spring break is almost, kinda, just about there, I can hardly wait, getting really close to being "just around the corner". We all know what that means...IT's TIME FOR THE TANNING BOOTH!!!

I'm sure that some of you are already saying: "Tanning booth? What a vain wimp!! Take your sun like a man!" Oh sure....it's easy for you to say. You're not of Irish and Welsh descent living in a cold ass northern state in a city that gets as much sunshine as Michael Jackson gets over-18 sex. I have to face the facts. I am challenged in the melanin department.

Then there are those of you who'll say "That is so bad for you! Why can't you just wear SPF 735 for your whole vacation. Save your skin!" To you I say "can't you read? I'm a vain wimp!" I like the feeling of being tan...makes a guy feel healthy in a malignant kinda way. Plus, when I'm tan my teeth look whiter...something I'm very conscious of since I quit smoking (see "Jaws of Life post).

So off I go to the tanning booth, which brings me to the title of this post. After about 3 minutes under the warming burning rays of those bulbs, I've noticed that once the ole back gets to sweating, it's quite easy to trap a pocket of air in the "small of the back" area. Once this happens, it's almost impossible to move without generating a certain sound that is identical to that of a whoopee cushion. As the sweat increases, the sounds get...shall we say...more fluid.

I've thought about lying perfectly still for the duration of the tanning session, but those bulbs get kinda hot, and if I don't move my ass at least an inch or two I get these burn stripes down my white irish bum.

So what do you do? Make the noise as discreetly as possible? To me, this implies that there is something to hide...that I may have actually passed gas in the tanning booth. No...discretion is not the path to take for this dilemma.

Do you go for the laugh and loudly exclaim "DAMN DAMN DAMN! Why do I keep drinking those milkshakes when I KNOW I'm lactose intolerant?" I think this could work, but everyone else at the "SUN SPA" would have to have a sense of humor, or they might file a complaint.

Then, in the midst of Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty's "Stop Draggin my Heart around" (the owner of the spa always has Stevie Nicks playing...I've asked for a discount because of this but she ignored me) the answer came to me. Make the noises to the sounds of the music.

Stop draggin my
Stop draggin my
Stop draggin my hear arooounpffffffffft.

A little sideways roll for the smaller snare drum effect, a pelvic thrust for the boomin base sound, and a gentle rolling from side to side for the soft melodic lulling effect.

Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song ...
Sounds like she's singing...
pffft...pffft....pffft.

I made it through 3 songs and I have to say it's the first time I've ever really paid attention to Stevie Nicks!

I really wish they would play some appropriate music for my newfound talent though...

Blowin in the Wind by Bob Dylan
Summer Breeze by Seals and Croft
Baby got Back by Sir Mixalot
Tiny Bubbles by Don Ho

gee...I wonder when I should schedule my next tanning appointment.

Birthdays, Hat Tricks, Jammies and the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

2005-02-02T06:49:00.000-08:00

The last few days have been wonderful and wonderfully eye-opening in the food and music department.

First of all Friday was my birthday. Copious amounts of all the good things...vodka, red meat, fresh bread from a small town bakery and cake (pictures to come cause it was a very cool cake)...and...I listened to the Garden State soundtrack for the first time. Two thumbs way up. I've been playing it to death.

Saturday continued with more spectacular food and music. Dinner at a Tapas joint here in town brought wonderful little plates of Tuna, calamari, scallops, salmon, roast duck, mushrooms, and so on. All with some pretty groovy worldbeat going on in the background. Then it was off to a friends 50th birthday party. The party was chock-full-o-interesting people and good wine and conversation was in abundance. The highlight of the evening was a performance by a gentleman who had rewritten the words to Gordon Lightfoots "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald". If he's not a comedian he should be cause it was hi-freakin-larious. My favorite re-write of that song up to that point had been:

Mothers and Fathers
and sons and daughters
their lungs all filled up with water

(just an excerpt but you get the gist)

F's birthday tribute has topped even those lyrics.

Sunday was a day of rest

Monday, it was back for more. There's a great little radio station called WYCE here in town that hosts what they call "The Hat Trick" concert series at a nice little restaurant called the One Trick Pony. The concerts are free, and they pass a hat to benefit some very worthy causes. Basically you get there early, eat good food, then sit back and listen to the free show. Mondays band was "The MAMMALS" and boy were they fun...folksy bluegrass with a very upbeat feel to them. I had never heard anyone play feedback on their banjo before.

Finally, last night. Last night was a soiree known as the Jammie awards. Once again, WYCE hosted the event and it's an award ceremony for all the local bands. Categories are jazz, rock, blues, folk and worldbeat. For the party, everyone who shows up in their pajamas (jammies....get it?) gets a free cd. Then, in between awards they have a ton of bands playing. They all get 10-15 minutes to jam and you get to hear a lot great bands. Its like 15, 15, 15 bands in one.

Unfortunately, I did not make it in time to hear my friends band Oxter/Mahone...

...my apologies Mr. Bittinger, but I promise to make it to one of the March gigs. Given that I didn't hear Oxter/Mahone, the highlight of the evening for me was a gal called Daisy May. Think Natalie Merchant crossed with the singer from MoonPools and Catepillars and you've got a pretty good idea of the sound of her voice. Now add a guitar (she plays) and a harmonica (she plays) and wrap it up in an attractive package and "voila". Easy on the eyes and ears.

It's been a fun few days and I've learned a few things:

1. Turning 41 ain't that bad.

2. I will have to get new pants if I keep eating like I have been.

3. I've GOT to get out and listen to more live music in this town.

Fa Fa Fa Fa - Fa Fa Fa Fa - Fa Fa Fa Fa Fashion

2005-01-27T08:08:00.000-08:00

Don't ya just love those sexy models strutting their stuff down the runway. Those pouty faces, perky AAA cups, bodies that would O.D. on a triscuit? Lets not forget the dresses. I think this one is called "Rainbow Testicular Elephantitis"

911….There’s a Turkey in my Driveway

2005-01-25T19:38:00.000-08:00

Last June, we had a turkey move into the neighborhood. Not that strange if you live in the country, but in the middle of downtown Grand Rapids Michigan…the second largest city in the state…well…it’s a little strange. He’s a pretty cool guy as far as turkeys go. At least until about a month ago. One month ago was when he decided that our garage was a really cool spot to hang out. I like the turkey, don’t get me wrong…. I just never thought it was something I would have to deal with on a daily basis.

For a while, it was quite the novelty. It was written up in the Grand Rapids Press as well as a couple of neighborhood publications. There was a little contest to name it…a debate as to it’s sex…there was even a pool going on as to whether or not it would make it past Thanksgiving.

He (I happen to know it’s a "he") made it past Thanksgiving, and is now in love with our garage. It’s not that big a deal…Turkey shits are much smaller than what you would expect from such a large bird. But…when a turkey won’t let you pull your car into the garage, well…there’s a problem. Not to mention the pets.

There’s me and my girlfriend, PLUS a border collie and a cat in the house. The border collie isn’t an issue. She goes into the back yard and is separated from the turkey by a fence. Turkeys are supposed to be INCREDIBLY stupid birds, but darned if this thing hasn’t figured out that the dog can’t make it to the other side…the dangerous side…so it just sits there pecking away at the ground while the dog goes postal. That’s O.K. She’s an old dog and deserves a little excitement not to mention the fact that she gets to act all important because she has once again protected us from invasion by this fine feathered BEAST.

It’s my cat, Merlin, that worries me. Merlin is one hell of a lazy-ass fat cat who hasn’t quite realized that he is just not the man he used to be. Between you and me…I know that he can’t take this turkey. He has never ventured closer than 10 feet to this bird.

I think he knows, in the back of his mind, that he can’t take this bird. But he still plays it cool when he’s outside. He goes into stalking mode…then…if anyone is looking…he’ll roll onto his back as though everything is cool and he’s just taking in the sights. Stop paying attention and he’s back into stalking mode….big bird mmmmm…big bird mmmmm.

I’m pretty sure there is a dialogue that is going on in his head, and I’m pretty sure the dialogue is straight out of a crocodile hunter episode:

"Hey mates…we’re here in Beautiful Grand Rapids Michigan in search of the great Wild Turkey. We found a few at a local pub but that’s another story. Now we’re in the heart of downtown and Look!!! Krikeee….he’s a big bloke. I’ve got to keep my distance here ‘cause we don’t want to agitate ‘em. Just look at the feathers on that fella…they’re BEAUTIFUL!. I can’t be sure, but I’m fairly certain that’s one tasty bird. There’s only one problem though... he’s 4 times my size. I’m gonna have to sneak up on ‘em really really quiet like and…oh crap…me owners shaking the ole tender vittles package at me. Well…until next time mates…"

JAWS OF LIFE

2005-01-24T13:38:00.000-08:00

Did you know that hyenas possess the strongest jaw muscles among terrestrial mammals?

Neither did I, but I started to wonder about it because I just recently quit smoking. Well, not because I recently quit smoking, but because I recently started chewing nicorette. Right now, I chew about 12 pieces a day and I'm starting to notice a few things.

1. I smack my gum when I chew. A friend called me up and 10 seconds into the conversation said "Christ, you're really working that gum...did you quit smoking or something?"

2. Nicorette SAYS that it is orange flavored, but it's really only a "hint" of orange essence that lasts for all of 3 seconds before you've just got a spent wad of gum in your mouth that you know you're gonna chew like crazy for the next hour.

3. Nicorette sucks as far as blowing bubbles

4. I really like the buzz from this stuff.

5. At the end of the day, my jaws ache, which tells me I'm getting a really good mandibular workout. I'm thinking that maybe I should start some jaw workout tapes and sell them on an infomercial. JAW-BO, or JAW Pilates.

Anyway...since the end result is me not smoking, I guess it's all good.

When I was in highschool, I was a diver on the swim team and the diving coach was this guy we called HALF-JAW Fairman. Mr. Fairman was a Christian Scientist who got a cancerous growth on his jaw and because of his religion refused to have it operated on until it became the size of a grapefruit. He ended up having half of his jaw removed along with the tumor, hence the name (which he approved of by the way). Due to the fact that half his jaw was missing, anytime he got really excited about us nailing a particular dive we were working on he would develop this frothy dollop of spittle in the corner of his mouth and would reach for the nearest towel to wipe it off. All of us divers kept 2 sets of towels. I don't want to be called Half-Jaw Jonathan.

So there you have it...day by day my jaws are developing hyena-like strength, and my lungs are getting cleaner to boot.

Oh...I did a search on strong jaws. Lo and behold...it's a fetish! To learn more about women with strong jaws, click here Relax...it's not a porn site. Sheesh.

On this day

2005-01-23T09:48:00.000-08:00

On this day, 42 years ago, my big sister was born. Hey everybody...give her a call and wish her a Very Happy Birthday. Her number is 867-5309. Hehehehehe.

Happy Birthday big sis.

J

A picture is worth...

2005-01-22T16:04:00.000-08:00

A thousand words? A hundred? My girlfriend likes to paint and personally I think she's pretty good. She certainly is a lot...and I mean A LOT better than I am, and knows a heck of a lot more about it...like sometimes I'll think she's done with a painting and she'll tell me that it's just the UNDERPAINTING that I'm looking at...at which point I'll say something like "Are they boxers or briefs". Other times it can look like UNDERPAINTING, but it's actually done. I wait until she tells me it's done...then I comment (mama didn't raise no dummy).

For her full time gig she is an 8th grade language arts teacher, which I might add makes her perfectly equipped to deal with me and my issues. She paints when she is not dealing with hormone riddled teenagers or their parents who are always trying to blame the teachers because "MY child certainly couldn't have done THAT (replace "THAT" with the myriad of things that 8th graders do that their parents don't think they could do).

Since she doesn't have a tremendously long time to go before she can retire, she wants to reach the point in her painting where she is in a couple of galleries, is gaining recognition as an artist, and then we will move someplace where it is much warmer to spend our golden years running a small gallery representing other artists as well as her works.

Here is one of her paintings:

Here is one of mine:

Comments on this post and/or the painting(s) are very welcome. In fact, when I asked my girlfriend if it was o.k. for me to put a photo up here she thought it sounded kinda cool to be able to get feedback from a random source. Not that I'm calling you random, but how did you get here anyway?

Innaugural "No Brainer"

2005-01-21T10:21:00.000-08:00

Its not just the guy who got sworn in for 4 more yesterday who has no grey matter. Learn all about Mike the headless chicken here.

A WHAT of WHAT????

2005-01-21T05:43:00.000-08:00

A long time ago I was having dinner at this steakhouse and decided to cap off the evening with a cup of coffee and a snifter of drambuie.

The waitress was a very nice young lady, but we had a problem. She had never heard of a snifter, or of drambuie.

"A WHAT of WHAT??" she said, clearly thinking that if I was already talking gibberish that maybe she shouldn't be bringing me anything from the bar.

"A snifter of drambuie" I said

"A snifter of what?" she said.

"Drambuie" I said, feeling very thirsty at this point. Drambuie and coffee after a good steak is to me what Cheesy-Poofs are to Cartman on South Park.

She repeated the mantra several times....snifter of drambuie, snifter of drambuie, snifter of drambuie.

"Look...just tell the bartender those 2 words...snifter and drambuie, and they'll know what to do" I say. She leaves the table.

A couple of minutes go by and she arrives back at the table with...lo and behold...a cup of coffee and a snifter of drambuie...and she has this nice big smile because she has obviously learned something new today and lets face it...drambuie makes everyone smile.

"Here is your coffee sir, and your SPHINCTER of drambuie" she says and walks away.

Now it just so happens that I was on a blind date, and let me tell you...sphincter is just not a word that comes up very often in conversation unless you're trying to pick up a proctologist (which I was not).

Fortunately, we didn't have to address the issue because the waitress only got a few steps from the table before she whirled around and came back.

"Did I just SAY what I THINK I said?"

"Yep"

"Oh my god....I'm soooo sorry! I'm a pre-med student and I've been studying the butt all weekend".

She apologized profusely and we all had a good laugh.

A few minutes later she came back to check on us:

"Everything o.k. here? More coffee?"

"My coffee is fine, but I have to say...this drambuie tastes like ass".

I couldn't resist...she laughed, I laughed, my date did not.

I never saw her again.

When the levee breaks

2005-01-20T13:15:00.000-08:00

The levee broke.

It took me a while but I've finally decided to dive in and blog away, and so far it feels pretty good. Not quite as good as a Ketel One on the rocks with a splash of lime (my favorite libation, hence the blog name) but pretty good none the less.

So here's how I see it. There are blogs, and then there are BLOGS! You know what I mean. There are the blogs that you have to wade through, all the while thinking to yourself "if I see another ROTFLMAO or the ever abundant use of the letter "Z" to signify plural (i.e. boyz)" I'm gonna scream.

Then there are the blogs where you say "Whoa! I know exactly how you feel!" These are the blogs that make you think. These are the blogs that make you look at the archives. These are the blogs that lead to the other blogs that lead to the other blogs they like because you know deep down inside that for the next couple of hours you're going to surf the net and follow a chain of thoughts and musings all because of something in common. Like Tom Waits or graphic design or Ketel One on the rocks with a splash of lime.

Hopefully, it won't take that long to figure out the links and graphics and html and so on. The folks here at A Splash of Lime aim to make your visit as enjoyable to the eyes as it is to the brains. In the meantime, sit back, relax and enjoy!

See ya soon.

cheers,
Jonathan