A frequent commuting distraction for Dawn and I is coming up with more bawdry lyrics for whatever song is on the radio. While most of our masterpieces really aren’t suitable for…well for anyone really… the song du jour is ABBA’s ‘Take a Chance on Me.’
Much to our amusement if you simply replace the refrain “Take a chance on me” with the phrase “Take the pants off me” the whole song continues to work quite nicely. Check it out:
If you change your mind, I’m the first in line
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
If you need me, let me know, gonna be around
If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down
If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown
Honey Im still free
Take a chance on me
Gonna do my very best and it ain’t no lie
If you put me to the test, if you let me try
Take a chance on me
(that’s all I ask of you honey)
Take a chance on me
….
It more or less works for every verse. I challenge you not to sing this version in the car next time the song comes on. (What do you mean your listen to ABBA in the car?)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
What's that smell?
Is it just me or does something smell like stinky fish in here?
I think this blog is starting to rot.
I think this blog is starting to rot.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
The Argonian Power Movement
Remember that election that decent citizens voted in back in November? Well the folks in Minnesota still don’t know who won their senate race. The race has gone to an automatic recount since the two main candidates (Norm Coleman and Al Franken) are less than 200 votes apart.
But who cares about those jackasses. The real story is about the exciting write-in candidates. NPR has coverage about how arduous the recount has been and how each side challenges every vote that the other gets. Anyone who remembers the Bush vs. Gore election probably has a good idea of what’s going on. Here is one of the actual ballots that are being contested!
Who knew that the lizard people had an active political party in Minnesota!? As a huge supported of lizard people, or Argonians as they are officially known, I am thrilled to see them making a power grab in the North Star State.
This ballot was initially thrown out for “over voting” since the voter filled in the circle by Franken’s name and wrote in “Lizard People.” But obviously this is just a cheap political trick to deprive the Lizard People of votes. Not for Senator, obviously, but in all the other races. While I won’t say I agree with their choice, this particular voter obviously voted for Al Franken. (Why vote for Al when you can have an Argonian!?!?) They were merely including the Lizard People in the group of people running for senate. As the rest of the ballot clearly indicates, the voter was more than capable of writing in “Lizard People” and filling in the circle when they indented to vote for Lizard People.
I suspect that the reason this vote was thrown out is the two party system feels threatened by a third scaly party of bipedal reptiles with super human strength. Well not me. I fully support all Argonians running for office. I would love to volunteer for their organizations by knocking stuff off tables, tail whipping potential votes, installing public sun rocks, or what have you.
My eye are open now people. It’s time we greet our salmonella bearing politicians with open arms and our full electoral support.
But who cares about those jackasses. The real story is about the exciting write-in candidates. NPR has coverage about how arduous the recount has been and how each side challenges every vote that the other gets. Anyone who remembers the Bush vs. Gore election probably has a good idea of what’s going on. Here is one of the actual ballots that are being contested!
Who knew that the lizard people had an active political party in Minnesota!? As a huge supported of lizard people, or Argonians as they are officially known, I am thrilled to see them making a power grab in the North Star State.
This ballot was initially thrown out for “over voting” since the voter filled in the circle by Franken’s name and wrote in “Lizard People.” But obviously this is just a cheap political trick to deprive the Lizard People of votes. Not for Senator, obviously, but in all the other races. While I won’t say I agree with their choice, this particular voter obviously voted for Al Franken. (Why vote for Al when you can have an Argonian!?!?) They were merely including the Lizard People in the group of people running for senate. As the rest of the ballot clearly indicates, the voter was more than capable of writing in “Lizard People” and filling in the circle when they indented to vote for Lizard People.
I suspect that the reason this vote was thrown out is the two party system feels threatened by a third scaly party of bipedal reptiles with super human strength. Well not me. I fully support all Argonians running for office. I would love to volunteer for their organizations by knocking stuff off tables, tail whipping potential votes, installing public sun rocks, or what have you.
My eye are open now people. It’s time we greet our salmonella bearing politicians with open arms and our full electoral support.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Dismissible Curmudgeon Rant
I just opened the latest version of Bon Appetite and spent the next few minutes swearing and throwing away little cardstock mailers that fall out of magazines like dandruff. I hate them. And I hate the magazine for including them. I would gladly pay an extra fee for each magazine if I didn’t have to deal with all the crap that falls out of it. Even magazines like Cuisine at Home and Cook’s Illustrated which claim to be ad-free are infested with the damnable cardstock hell spawn. Has anyone actually saved one of those and sent them in? (If so, you’re part of the problem. Hang your head in shame).
Dawn says she would gladly pay an extra fee to receive fashion magazines without fragrance samples. No wonder either… each one of those magazines reeks to high heaven.
I was tempted to make the claim that I get upset when the advertising in my media distracts from the content. But I don’t think that’s the case, or rather, that is just more of a symptom. I think as I get older I become ever less tolerant of whatever crazy thing I decide is irritating me and think I should be able to buy my way out of it. I suppose that I am the ultimate product of a consumer based economy.
Thinking back I seem to remember going on a rant after the last time Dawn and I bought airline tickets. We were picking out the seats and I was distressed that the back corner of the plane was already taken. While I often complain about sitting in the back of the plane because of the noise, and having to stare at the crotches of people waiting to use the lavatory, and the fact that you are literally the last person off the plane when trying to make a connection, I kind of like that you limit the number of people that can sit around you. In the middle of the plane you are exposed on all sides. In the back of the plane, in a two person row, there are only two people sitting in front of you and one person next two you across the aisle. That guarantees that a small kid will not be kicking my seat the entire trip….plus the odds of having to sit next to a baby are drastically reduced.
I believe I was telling Dawn that I thought that airlines ought to offer to charge a fee to guarantee you will not sit next to a minor. When people buy tickets they have to reveal whether or not they are traveling with a minor. I haven’t looked up the statistics, but I think that most passengers aren’t minors, so the odds are pretty good that I won’t have to sit next to a minor….but I’m willing to pay an extra $5 to take the odds from pretty good to really good. I thought it seemed like a good deal for the airline companies. In most cases they won’t have to do anything to collect and extra $5 fee. And they like fees. All they really have to do is invent a new color of seat to show that some seat options are restricted to people not traveling with minors…which is the majority of travelers (I suspect).
Dawn pointed out that it would cause logistical issues when the plane started to get full and the airline wouldn’t want the bad press of kicking little kids of off planes. I’m a reasonable (if not intolerant) guy. I acknowledge the fact that they need to serve people with kids too. My solution was that if I paid $5 to not sit next to a kid (and I’m talking left, right, front and back seats) and they place a kid there then the airline company refund me $20. I think it’s a good solution. It doesn’t tie the hands of the airline company in the situation of a full plane, and at the same time acknowledges that seating a kid next to me is suboptimal and gives me a $15 “we’re sorry” when it invariable happens.
Whoa, where did that come from? I guess I’ve been storing up my curmudgeon delusional ranting.
Dawn says she would gladly pay an extra fee to receive fashion magazines without fragrance samples. No wonder either… each one of those magazines reeks to high heaven.
I was tempted to make the claim that I get upset when the advertising in my media distracts from the content. But I don’t think that’s the case, or rather, that is just more of a symptom. I think as I get older I become ever less tolerant of whatever crazy thing I decide is irritating me and think I should be able to buy my way out of it. I suppose that I am the ultimate product of a consumer based economy.
Thinking back I seem to remember going on a rant after the last time Dawn and I bought airline tickets. We were picking out the seats and I was distressed that the back corner of the plane was already taken. While I often complain about sitting in the back of the plane because of the noise, and having to stare at the crotches of people waiting to use the lavatory, and the fact that you are literally the last person off the plane when trying to make a connection, I kind of like that you limit the number of people that can sit around you. In the middle of the plane you are exposed on all sides. In the back of the plane, in a two person row, there are only two people sitting in front of you and one person next two you across the aisle. That guarantees that a small kid will not be kicking my seat the entire trip….plus the odds of having to sit next to a baby are drastically reduced.
I believe I was telling Dawn that I thought that airlines ought to offer to charge a fee to guarantee you will not sit next to a minor. When people buy tickets they have to reveal whether or not they are traveling with a minor. I haven’t looked up the statistics, but I think that most passengers aren’t minors, so the odds are pretty good that I won’t have to sit next to a minor….but I’m willing to pay an extra $5 to take the odds from pretty good to really good. I thought it seemed like a good deal for the airline companies. In most cases they won’t have to do anything to collect and extra $5 fee. And they like fees. All they really have to do is invent a new color of seat to show that some seat options are restricted to people not traveling with minors…which is the majority of travelers (I suspect).
Dawn pointed out that it would cause logistical issues when the plane started to get full and the airline wouldn’t want the bad press of kicking little kids of off planes. I’m a reasonable (if not intolerant) guy. I acknowledge the fact that they need to serve people with kids too. My solution was that if I paid $5 to not sit next to a kid (and I’m talking left, right, front and back seats) and they place a kid there then the airline company refund me $20. I think it’s a good solution. It doesn’t tie the hands of the airline company in the situation of a full plane, and at the same time acknowledges that seating a kid next to me is suboptimal and gives me a $15 “we’re sorry” when it invariable happens.
Whoa, where did that come from? I guess I’ve been storing up my curmudgeon delusional ranting.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Oh, how you people disappoint me.
I used to think that knitters were industrious people. I marveled at how they were able to capture the quiet moments in between events in their day and transform them in knitwear goods. I was impressed by their seemingly literal interpretation of the saying “idle hands are the devil’s tools.” Oh, how I used to respect and marvel at their commitment to efficiency and productivity.
Of course after seeing Christen Meindertsma’s work I now realize what a lazy bunch of underachievers knitter really are… and I’m not just talking about the social trend knitters, knitting one day, quitting the next. Even the hardcore thug knitters 4 life folks have been diminished in my eyes. You see, I’ve had my expectations adjusted.
If you’re not working on room-sized project then you’re not really knitting. Give it rest already slackers. If you're not ready to step up to the big game put the needles away. The devil needs to get some work done.
Of course after seeing Christen Meindertsma’s work I now realize what a lazy bunch of underachievers knitter really are… and I’m not just talking about the social trend knitters, knitting one day, quitting the next. Even the hardcore thug knitters 4 life folks have been diminished in my eyes. You see, I’ve had my expectations adjusted.
If you’re not working on room-sized project then you’re not really knitting. Give it rest already slackers. If you're not ready to step up to the big game put the needles away. The devil needs to get some work done.
Monday, November 24, 2008
They'll Never Read L337
Dawn and I were listening to the radio on Saturday and a story came on about a telephone interpreter. People call her when they need someone to translate between English and Spanish. She specializes in medical terminology and is often used by people in hospitals to communicate symptoms or medical directions.
One of the stories she was sharing was about a pair of teenaged parents who just had a new born baby. When a nurse visited them at their house she found the baby wrapped up in all sorts of clothes even though it was sweating. She used the telephone interpreter to ask them why they had dressed the baby up so thoroughly in such sweltering heat. Their answer was that was how baby Jesus was dressed. Solid logic there.
The nurse told the couple that they needed to monitor the temperature of the baby since it had a fever. The couple revealed that they were illiterate. The nurse said they just needed to use a thermometer. The couple reiterated that they illiterate and were unable to even read numbers. The nurse was flabbergasted. The rest of the story is unimportant.
So here’s what surprised me - there were people who couldn’t read numbers. I get being unable to read words – that involves bundling together letters into words and making sense out of them. I even get being mathematically literate…but reading numbers? It seems like the chances to associate the symbols with natural numbers are so numerous that it’s bound to happen if you’re alive and conscious for twenty years. I would think you should at least recognize the symbols for the first ten integers if you’re counting or have ever bought anything with money.
What surprised me even more is the casual way in which Dawn acknowledged that such people exist, and that their existence was less than surprising. She was blasé about it. I was gob smacked. Have you ever known anyone who couldn’t recognize a number I asked? She said didn’t know anyone, but that was hardly proof that such an individual should be surprising. I tried to point out all the different ways that a person would likely become accustomed to numbers and she casually swatted them away. She was unmoved. I grew increasingly more agitated with her stance that people could be completely oblivious to counting and symbols. She argued that they would just stop trying, that numbers would be noise in their environment. I don’t buy it.
So am I underestimating the lack of cognitive ability of my fellow man? Has anyone heard of such a thing as someone who cannot recognize numbers? Is Dawn right (yet again)? I sure hope not. I prefer people that cool and self-assured about their stance to be dead wrong.
One of the stories she was sharing was about a pair of teenaged parents who just had a new born baby. When a nurse visited them at their house she found the baby wrapped up in all sorts of clothes even though it was sweating. She used the telephone interpreter to ask them why they had dressed the baby up so thoroughly in such sweltering heat. Their answer was that was how baby Jesus was dressed. Solid logic there.
The nurse told the couple that they needed to monitor the temperature of the baby since it had a fever. The couple revealed that they were illiterate. The nurse said they just needed to use a thermometer. The couple reiterated that they illiterate and were unable to even read numbers. The nurse was flabbergasted. The rest of the story is unimportant.
So here’s what surprised me - there were people who couldn’t read numbers. I get being unable to read words – that involves bundling together letters into words and making sense out of them. I even get being mathematically literate…but reading numbers? It seems like the chances to associate the symbols with natural numbers are so numerous that it’s bound to happen if you’re alive and conscious for twenty years. I would think you should at least recognize the symbols for the first ten integers if you’re counting or have ever bought anything with money.
What surprised me even more is the casual way in which Dawn acknowledged that such people exist, and that their existence was less than surprising. She was blasé about it. I was gob smacked. Have you ever known anyone who couldn’t recognize a number I asked? She said didn’t know anyone, but that was hardly proof that such an individual should be surprising. I tried to point out all the different ways that a person would likely become accustomed to numbers and she casually swatted them away. She was unmoved. I grew increasingly more agitated with her stance that people could be completely oblivious to counting and symbols. She argued that they would just stop trying, that numbers would be noise in their environment. I don’t buy it.
So am I underestimating the lack of cognitive ability of my fellow man? Has anyone heard of such a thing as someone who cannot recognize numbers? Is Dawn right (yet again)? I sure hope not. I prefer people that cool and self-assured about their stance to be dead wrong.
Monday, November 17, 2008
A cat of privilege
I wonder if Riblet ever sits around and marvels at what she’s achieved. I doubt it.
She started out life, as far as I know, as a chubby cat in an Indiana Petsmart. I have no idea what her pre-Petsmart history is – and neither does Petsmart – they lost her documents. The papers they gave us belonged to a completely different cat which the vet (that was referenced in the papers) kindly told us. Riblet won’t tell us how she ended up in Petsmart, but I harbor a dark suspicion she was kicked out of her previous home for being an evil, grumpy, mommy hater. Just a guess.
Perhaps the fake cat documents Petsmart provided us are like a fake passport. Riblet adopted a false identity and decided to start a new life, the cat equivalent of the witness protection program or being an undercover spy. Whatever the case may be, in her time with us, Riblet has developed a taste for the finer things in life. A few of years ago she discovered electric blankets; a deep and instant bond was formed. Anything that provides warmth and a soft sleeping surface is ok in Riblet’s book (mommy laps need not apply).
Just a year or so ago Riblet discovered memory-foam beds. Once she got the knack that the bed would actually contour and form to her - she was hooked. Often she will purr with glee that “the mattress remembers me!” Dawn will try and correct her and tell her that’s not why it’s called memory foam, but Riblet will opt for unconsciousness and ignore her mom’s explanations. Sometimes Dawn says stuff.
Recently Riblet has discovered cashmere. Dawn had an old cashmere sweater that developed a hole in it that she donated to one of Riblet’s beds. At first Riblet wanted nothing to do with the mommy reeking bedding. Once the distasteful remembrances of Dawn dissipated Riblet gave the cashmere bedding a try in earnest. The verdict? Oh My Gawd… Riblet loves cashmere. She spends a minimum of 45 minutes a day sitting in the bed and kneading her tiny little fists into the soft soft cashmere. This makes her a very happy cat indeed.
Last night Dawn and I started a fire. Before long we found Riblet sitting in my chair looking very pleased with herself. As if to say, “lounging in a leather club chair by a fire is something I was born to do.” Her manner betrayed not an air of gratitude for nice things we provide for her, but one of expectation and birthright. Riblet has ascended the ranks of feline destinies to a sheltered life of comfort and privilege, and the good life appears to suite her.
She started out life, as far as I know, as a chubby cat in an Indiana Petsmart. I have no idea what her pre-Petsmart history is – and neither does Petsmart – they lost her documents. The papers they gave us belonged to a completely different cat which the vet (that was referenced in the papers) kindly told us. Riblet won’t tell us how she ended up in Petsmart, but I harbor a dark suspicion she was kicked out of her previous home for being an evil, grumpy, mommy hater. Just a guess.
Perhaps the fake cat documents Petsmart provided us are like a fake passport. Riblet adopted a false identity and decided to start a new life, the cat equivalent of the witness protection program or being an undercover spy. Whatever the case may be, in her time with us, Riblet has developed a taste for the finer things in life. A few of years ago she discovered electric blankets; a deep and instant bond was formed. Anything that provides warmth and a soft sleeping surface is ok in Riblet’s book (mommy laps need not apply).
Just a year or so ago Riblet discovered memory-foam beds. Once she got the knack that the bed would actually contour and form to her - she was hooked. Often she will purr with glee that “the mattress remembers me!” Dawn will try and correct her and tell her that’s not why it’s called memory foam, but Riblet will opt for unconsciousness and ignore her mom’s explanations. Sometimes Dawn says stuff.
Recently Riblet has discovered cashmere. Dawn had an old cashmere sweater that developed a hole in it that she donated to one of Riblet’s beds. At first Riblet wanted nothing to do with the mommy reeking bedding. Once the distasteful remembrances of Dawn dissipated Riblet gave the cashmere bedding a try in earnest. The verdict? Oh My Gawd… Riblet loves cashmere. She spends a minimum of 45 minutes a day sitting in the bed and kneading her tiny little fists into the soft soft cashmere. This makes her a very happy cat indeed.
Last night Dawn and I started a fire. Before long we found Riblet sitting in my chair looking very pleased with herself. As if to say, “lounging in a leather club chair by a fire is something I was born to do.” Her manner betrayed not an air of gratitude for nice things we provide for her, but one of expectation and birthright. Riblet has ascended the ranks of feline destinies to a sheltered life of comfort and privilege, and the good life appears to suite her.
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