Check out my brother's website - it's awesome!
In other news, still pregnant. Yeah.
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About Me
Brogs
- A Poor Man's Blog
- Abdicating Sanity
- Ace's Place
- All Things Jurries
- Delta Institute
- Epsilon Institute
- Everyone Has An Agenda
- Gimme Back My Bullets
- In God We Trust
- Just Had To
- Life As We Know It
- Life On Union Avenue
- Life On Union Avenue 2
- Ministry of Food
- Ministry of Vocabulary
- No Nonsense Experience
- On The Fringe
- Practically Perfect
- Presbyterian Thoughts
- Random Potatoes Present Blogapalooza
- Set It Off
- Wendler Cottage
- Wife, Mom, Teacher
- Yes, I Have No Bananas
81 comments:
It is pretty slick, alright.
Doesn't that kid take any hints. ;-)
Cool site John!
Hey, you're not allowed to link my site before I do! Uncool!
Actually, my hosting server seems to be down, so I'm looking at a couple of other possibilities. It will take a couple of days for it to switch over, but then we *should* be okay.
(Thanks for the plug, BTW!)
Wait, you're still pregnant!?
I'm somewhat surprised we haven't seen a whole bunch of Stuart pics up here yet. You must not love him very much.
You're an awful person. :)
So, you're still pregnant, then?
Pregnant still or pregnant again?
Admit it. This blog is dead to you.
Come on now, update woman!
*snore*
All the ducks are swimming in the water
All the ducks are swimming in the water
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
All the ducks are swimming in the water
Fal de ral de ral do
Fal de ral de ral do
I want a new duck
One that won't try to bite
One that won't chew a hole in my socks
One that won't quack all night
I want a new duck
One with big webbed feet
One that knows how to wash my car
And keep his room real neat
One that won't raid the ice box
One that'll stay in shape
One that's never gonna try to migrate or escape
Or I'll tie him up with duck tape
I want a new duck
A mallard I think
One that won't make a mess of my house
Or build a nest in the bathroom sink
I want a new duck
One that won't steal my beer
One that won't stick his bill in my mail
One that knows the duck stops here
One that won't drive me crazy waddling all around
One who'll teach me how to swim and help me not to drown
And show me how to get down
How to get down baby
I want a new duck
Not a swan or a goose
Just a drake I can dress real cute
Think I'm gonna name him Bruce
I want a new duck
Not a quail or an owl
One that won't molt to much
One that won't smell too fowl
One that won't beg for breadcrumbs
Hangin' around all day
He'd better mind his manners
Better do just what I say
Or he's gonna be duck patte, duck patte
here's a llama
there's a llama
and another little llama
fuzzy llama
funny llama
llama llama
duck
llama llama
cheesecake
llama
tablet
brick
potato
llama
llama llama
mushroom
llama
llama llama
duck
i was once a treehouse
i lived in a cake
but i never saw the way
the orange slayed the rake
i was only three years dead
but it told a tale
and now listen, little child
to the safety rail
did you ever see a llama
kiss a llama
on the llama
llama's llama
tastes of llama
llama llama
duck
half a llama
twice the llama
not a llama
farmer
llama
llama in a car
alarm a llama
llama
duck
is THIS how it's told now?
is it all so old?
is it made of lemon juice?
doorknob
ankle
cold
now my song is getting thin
i've run out of luck
time for me to retire now
and become a duck
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore - 26,000 tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconson
As the big freighters go it was bigger than most
With a crew and the Captain well seasoned.
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ships bell rang
Could it be the North Wind they'd been feeling.
The wind in the wires made a tattletale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the Captain did, too,
T'was the witch of November come stealing.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashing
When afternoon came it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane West Wind
When supper time came the old cook came on deck
Saying fellows it's too rough to feed ya
At 7PM a main hatchway caved in
He said fellas it's been good to know ya.
The Captain wired in he had water coming in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the words turn the minutes to hours
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the ruins of her ice water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams,
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered.
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral
The church bell chimed, 'til it rang 29 times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
Superior, they say, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
I live inside my birdcage
a hanging way up high
I like to swing upon my perch
and sing my little song
But there's a cat that's after me
and won't let me alone
I tawt I taw a puddy tat
a creeping up on me
I did I taw a puddy tat
as plain as he could be
S:I am that great big bad old cat
Sylvester is my name
I only have one aim in life
and that is very plain
I want to catch that little bird
and eat him right away
But every time that I get close to him
this is what he'll say
I tawt I taw a puddy tat
a creeping up on me
You bet he saw a puddy tat
that puddy tat was me
T:That puddy tat is very bad
he sneaks up from behind
I don't think I would like it
if I knew what's on his mind
I have a strong suspision
that his plans for me aren't good
I am inclined to think that he would eat me if he could
S:I'd like to eat that Tweety Pie
when he leaves his cage
But I cannot get close to him
it throws me in a rage
You bet I'd eat that little bird if I could just get near
But everytime that I approach
this is all I hear
T:I tawt I taw a puddy tat
a creeping up on me
I did I taw a puddy tat
as plain as he could be
And when I sing that little song
my mistress knows he's back
She grabs a broom and brings it down
upon Sylvester's back
So listen you bad puddy tat
let's both be friends you see
My mistress will not chase you
if you sing this song for me
Come on now like a good cat
S:Oh alright...sufferin' sucotash!
B:I tawt i taw a puddy tat
a creeping up on me
I did I taw a puddy tat
as plain as he could be
LA's fine, sunshine most of the time
The feeling is laid back
Palm trees grow and the rents are low
But you know I keep thinking about
Making my way back
Well, I'm New York City born and raised
But nowadays, I'm lost between two shores
LA's fine, but it ain't home
New York's home but it ain't mine no more
I am, I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair
I am, I cried
I am, said I
And I am lost, and I can't even say why
Leavin' me lonely still
Did you ever read about a frog who dreamed of being a king
And then became one
Well, except for the names and a few other changes
If you talk about me, the story's the same one
But I got an emptiness deep inside
And I've tried but it won't let me go
And I'm not a man who likes to swear
But I've never cared for the sound of being alone
I am, I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair
I am, I cried
I am, said I
And I am lost, and I can't even say why
I am, I said
I am, I cried
I am...
The western wind is blowing fair
Across the dark Aegean Sea
And at the secret marble stair
My Tyrian galley waits for thee
Come down, the purple sail is spread
The watchman sleeps within the town
Oh leave thy lily flowerbed
Oh lady mine, come down
Come down
Lady come down
Come down
Lady come down,
Oh Lady come down
She will not come I know her well
Of lover's vows she hath no care
And little good a man can tell
Of one so cruel and so fair
True love is but a womans toy
They never know their lover's pain
And I who loved as loves a boy
Must love in vain
Must love in vain
Come down
Lady come down
Come down
Lady come down
When Der Fuehrer says, "We ist der master race"
We HEIL! HEIL! Right in Der Fuehrer's face
Not to love Der Fuehrer is a great disgrace
So we HEIL! HEIL! Right in Der Fuehrer's face
When Herr Gobbels says, "We own der world und space"
We HEIL! HEIL! Right in Herr Goring's face
When Herr Goring says they'll never bomb this place
We HEIL! HEIL! Right in Herr Goring's face
Are we not the supermen
Aryan pure supermen
Ja we ist der supermen
Super-duper supermen
Ist this Nutzi land not good?
Would you leave it if you could?
Ja this Nutzi land is good!
Vee would leave it if we could
We bring the world to order
Heil Hitler's world New Order
Everyone of foreign race will love Der Fuehrer's face
When we bring to der world disorder
When Der Fuehrer says, "We ist der master race"
We HEIL! HEIL! Right in Der Fuehrer's face
When Der Fuehrer says, "We ist der master race"
We HEIL! HEIL! Right in Der Fuhrer's face
MAC SPAM PLATTER
Can of Spam
1 sm. onion
2 (10 1/2 oz.) can tomato soup or equivalent
1 egg
1/2 c. milk
Macaroni
Pepper
Thin slices of processed cheese
Cut 6 slices of Spam 1/4 inch thick to any shape you prefer for top of the finished dish. Cube or dice remaining Spam for adding to sauce.
Brown one small chopped onion in one tablespoon shortening. Then add tomato soup or sauce along with cubed Spam and pepper. Stir to mix for 2 or 3 minutes over heat.
Cook macaroni according to directions. Drain. Beat together milk and egg and add to macaroni. Spread macaroni mixture on cookie sheet or large flat pan and cover with the Spam tomato mixture.
Top with thin slices of processed cheese cut into squares. Top cheese slices with Spam cutouts. Bake in preheated oven at 350 degrees for 25 minutes. Serves 6 to 8.
Inigo Montoya:That Vizzini, he can *fuss*.
Fezzik: Fuss, fuss... I think he like to scream at *us*.
Inigo Montoya: Probably he means no *harm*.
Fezzik: He's really very short on *charm*.
Inigo Montoya: You have a great gift for rhyme.
Fezzik: Yes, yes, some of the time.
Vizzini: Enough of that.
Inigo Montoya: Fezzik, are there rocks ahead?
Fezzik: If there are, we all be dead.
Vizzini: No more rhymes now, I mean it.
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?
Vizzini: DYEEAAHHHHHH.
This blog is not dead. It is in a time of restructuring, but great prosperity. Whoever told you that we have a dead blog here is selling you something.
I have a magic toenail, I keep it on my foot.
It's always there to rescue me, when something goes coput.
It has the cutest cuticles, free of all disease!
As toenails go it's really quite extraordinary!
Thank you, thank you, thank you magic toenail.
I love my magic toenail, it's magical and good. Sometimes I'll take my magic toenail to lunch and give it a sandwich, because it likes to eat the sandwich. Thank you, thank you, thank you magic toenail.
I love you magic toenail.
So long and thanks for all the fish
So sad that it should come to this
We tried to warn you all but oh dear?
You may not share our intellect
Which might explain your disrespect
For all the natural wonders that
grow around you
So long, so long and thanks
for all the fish
The world's about to be destroyed
There's no point getting all annoyed
Lie back and let the planet dissolve
Despite those nets of tuna fleets
We thought that most of you were sweet
Especially tiny tots and your
pregnant women
So long, so long, so long, so long, so long
So long, so long, so long, so long, so long
So long, so long and thanks
for all the fish
(yeah)
So long and thanks for all the fish
So sad that it should come to this
We tried to warn you all but oh dear?
(oh dear)
Despite those nets of tuna fleets
We thought that most of you were sweet
Especially tiny tots and your
pregnant women
So long, so long, so long, so long, so long
So long, so long, so long, so long, so long
So long, so long and thanks
for all the fish
"Oh Yes Wyoming!
With the trees and the horses and the rocks and the sheep
Oh Yes I'm Going!
Through the plains and the trails
and the streams and the hills
Oh No Nebraska!
Is there a plainer state I ask ya?
Oh Yes Wyoming!
There's no place I'd rather be roaming
With the geysers and the canyons and the watering holes
With the geysers and the canyons and the watering holes
Oh Yes Wyoming!
With the mountains and the lakes
and the plentiful fish
Oh Yes I'm Knowing!
This land will fulfill my every wish
Oh No Dakota!
Doesn't interest me one i-ota
Oh Yes Wyoming!
There's no place I'd rather be roaming
(Spoken)
"Hey Zinc!
What is it Antelope Joe?
You know, I love them girls back in Wyoming
I heard you love the geesyrs too
It's gysers, and anyways that's just a rumor
I'm talking about my special girl Daisy
I call her Old Faithful
I heard she aint that faithful
She sure is old though!"
(Laughter)
Oh Yes Wyoming!
With the cabins and the camping and the bakin' beans
Oh Yes I'm Glowing!
With the bison and the banjos and the wily racoons
Oh No Ohio!
I can hardly wait to say goodbye-oh
Oh Yes Wyoming!
There's no place I'd rather be...
Ends with m-i-n-g...
Shout it out loud with me
W-Y-O-M-I-N-G
Oh Yes!
Here’s a song about jellyman kelly,
He loves jelly the most.
Ah, but most of all,
Jellyman kelly loves jelly on toast.
And here’s the part about jenny mulhenny,
She’s a fireman’s daughter.
Yeah, but most of all,
Jenny mulhenny loves to boil hot water
Jenny put the kettle on, jellyman kelly,
Can he come home, jenny, can he come?
Jenny put the kettle on, jellyman kelly,
Can he come home, jenny, can he come?
Chorus:
Oh, can he come home, jenny,
Can he come home, jenny can he come?
Oh, can he come home, jenny
Can he come home, jenny, can he come?
Yada yada yada voo doo papa
Yodely doo
Da voody doo doo doo
Yaka yaka yaka yaka hum hon no
(repeat chorus)
That’s the story about jellyman kelly-he still loves jelly!
And yes and maybe someday you and me, friend,
We can have tea with him!
If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
I'd buy you a house
(I would buy you a house)
If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
I'd buy you furniture for your house
(Maybe a nice chesterfield or an ottoman)
And if I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I'd buy you a K-Car
(A nice Reliant automobile)
If I had a million dollars I'd buy your love
If I had a million dollars
I'd build a tree fort in our yard
If I had million dollars
You could help, it wouldn't be that hard
If I had million dollars
Maybe we could put like a little tiny fridge in there somewhere
You know, we could just go up there and hang out
Like open the fridge and stuff
There would already be laid out foods for us
Like little pre-wrapped sausages and things
They have pre-wrapped sausages but they don't have pre-wrapped bacon
Well, can you blame 'em
Uh, yeah
If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I'd buy you a fur coat
(But not a real fur coat that's cruel)
And if I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I'd buy you an exotic pet
(Yep, like a llama or an emu)
And if I had a million dollars
(If I had a a million dollars)
Well, I'd buy you John Merrick's remains
(Ooh, all them crazy elephant bones)
And If I had a million dollars I'd buy your love
If I had a million dollars
We wouldn't have to walk to the store
If I had a million dollars
Now, we'd take a limousine 'cause it costs more
If I had a million dollars
We wouldn't have to eat Kraft Dinner
But we would eat Kraft Dinner
Of course we would, we’d just eat more
And buy really expensive ketchups with it
That’s right, all the fanciest ke... dijon ketchups!
Mmmmmm, Mmmm-Hmmm
If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I'd buy you a green dress
(But not a real green dress, that's cruel)
And if I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I'd buy you some art
(A Picasso or a Garfunkel)
If I had a million dollars
(If I had a million dollars)
Well, I'd buy you a monkey
(Haven't you always wanted a monkey)
If I had a million dollars
I’d buy your love
If I had a million dollars, If I had a million dollars
If I had a million dollars, If I had a million dollars
If I had a million dollars
I'd be rich
Oompa Loompas:
Oompa Loompa doompadee doo
I've got another puzzle for you
Oompa Loompa doompadah dee
If you are wise you'll listen to me
What do you get from a glut of TV?
A pain in the neck and an IQ of three
Why don't you try simply reading a book?
Or could you just not bear to look?
You'll get no
You'll get no
You'll get no
You'll get no
You'll get no commercials
Oompa Loompa Doompadee Dah
If you're not greedy you will go far
You will live in happiness too
Like the Oompa
Oompa Loompa doompadee do
I am the very model of a modern Major-General
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotepotenuse
I'm very good at integral and differential calculus
I know the scientific names of beings animalculous
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral
I am the very model of a modern Major-General
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral
He is the very model of a modern Major-General
I know our mythic history, King Arthur's and Sir Caradoc's
I answer hard acrostics, I've a pretty taste for paradox
I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of Heliogabalus
In conics I can floor peculiarities parabolous
I can tell undoubted Raphaels from Gerard Dows and Zoffanies
I know the croaking chorus from the Frogs of Aristophanes
Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore
And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore
And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore
And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore
And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinapinafore
Then I can write a washing bill in Babylonic cuneiform
And tell you ev'ry detail of Caractacus's uniform
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral
I am the very model of a modern Major-General
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral
He is the very model of a modern Major-General
In fact, when I know what is meant by "mamelon" and "ravelin"
When I can tell at sight a Mauser rifle from a javelin
When such affairs as sorties and surprises I'm more wary at
And when I know precisely what is meant by "commissariat"
When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern gunnery
When I know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery
In short, when I've a smattering of elemental strategy
You'll say a better Major-General had never sat a gee
You'll say a better Major-General had never sat a gee
You'll say a better Major-General had never sat a gee
You'll say a better Major-General had never sat a sat a gee
For my military knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury
Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century
But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral
I am the very model of a modern Major-General
But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral
He is the very model of a modern Major-General
Chances are your pants are not as fancy as the pair
Of very fancy pants that Mr. Fancy Pants will wear
When everybody's marching in the fancy pants parade
He's gonna pass the test
He's gonna be the best
The best in terms of pants
You look in every catalog you shop at every store
Cause even though you have a hundred pants you want some more
When suddenly you see the greatest pants you've ever seen
And even though you know
It's gonna cost a lot of dough
You have to have the world's best pants
Say a little prayer for Mr. Fancy Pants
The whole world knows
They're only clothes
And deep inside
He's sad
They make the big announcement and the trophy goes to you
You thought you had some fancy pants and now you know it's true
You look at Mr. Fancy Pants and hold the trophy high
Everybody cheers
While he's blinking back the tears
He doesn't even have the best pants
Say a little prayer for Mr. Fancy Pants
It's all he had
But don't feel bad
He'd do the same
To you
It's time for Animaniacs
And we're zany to the max
So just sit back and relax
You'll laugh 'til you collapse
We're animan-iacs
Come join the warner brothers
And the Warner sister, Dot
Just for fun we run around the Warner movie lot
They lock us in the tower
Whenever we get caught
But we break loose and then vamoose
and now you know the plot
We're animaniacs
Dot is cute and Yakko yaks
Wakko packs away the snacks
While Bill Clinton plays the sax
We're Animaniacs
Meet Pinky and the Brain who want to rule the universe
Good Feathers flock together, Slappy whacks 'em with her purse
Buttons chases Mindy while Rita sings a verse
The writers flipped we have no script why bother to rehearse
We're animaniacs
We have pay or play contracts
We're zany to the max
There's baloney in our snacks
We're animany
Totally insaney
Here's the shows name-y [changes from time to time]
Animaniacs
Those are the facts.
This is developing into a very bad habit! I don't know if I can explain it to you. It's not only against the law, it's wrong!
I wanna live again!
Look, Daddy. Teacher says, every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings.
That's right, that's right. Attaboy, Clarence!
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port,
Aboard this tiny Ship.
The mate was a mighty sailin' man,
The Skipper brave and sure,
Five passengers set sail that day
For a three hour tour.
A three hour tour.
The weather started getting rough,
The tiny ship was tossed.
If not for the courage of the fearless crew,
The Minnow would be lost.
The Minnow would be lost.
The ship's aground on the shore of this
Uncharted desert isle
With Gilligan, the Skipper too,
The Millionaire and his wife,
A movie star, the Professor and Mary Ann,
Here on Gilligan's Isle!
So this is the tale of our castaways,
They're here for a long, long time
They'll have to make the best of things,
It's an uphill climb.
The first mate and the Skipper too,
Will do their very best,
To make the others comfortable,
In their tropic island nest.
No phones! No lights! No motor cars!
Not a single luxury,
Like Robinson C-ru-soe, it's primitive as can be.
So join us here each week my friends,
You're sure to get a smile,
From seven stranded castaways,
Here on "Gilligan's Isle."
He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Comin' home to a place he'd never been before
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again
You might say he found a key for every door
When he first came to the mountains his life was far away
On the road and hangin' by a song
But the string's already broken and he doesn't really care
It keeps changin' fast and it don't last for long
But the Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
The shadow from the starlight is softer than a lullabye
Rocky mountain high
He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below
He saw everything as far as you can see
And they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun
And he lost a friend but kept his memory
Now he walks in quiet solitude the forest and the streams
Seeking grace in every step he takes
His sight has turned inside himself to try and understand
The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake
And the Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply
Rocky mountain high
Now his life is full of wonder but his heart still knows some fear
Of a simple thing he cannot comprehend
Why they try to tear the mountains down to bring in a couple more
More people, more scars upon the land
And the Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
I know he'd be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly
Rocky mountain high
It's Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
Friends around the campfire and everybody's high
Rocky mountain high
Check out my brother's website - it's awesome!
In other news, still pregnant. Yeah.
Thirty-nine.
In accordance with prophecy.
So get this - the city sent us a letter a few weeks ago, stating their intention to replace our water meter and desiring us to set up an appointment for said replacement. Fine. Whatever. Appointment made.
The friendly lady from the water department came, attempted her work, pronounced it not good, and announced that, prior to replacing the meter, we would have to shell out for a plumber to come replace a valve (also involving the tearing up of concrete around selfsame valve). If this work were not completed in a timely matter, friendly lady informed, our water would be summarily shut off. We would then still have to pay for a plumber, and from thence the meter would be replaced and our water restored.
So, curiosity being what it is, I inquired as to the reason behind replacing the meter at all. Friendly lady said she didn't know, it was possible it was faulty, but more likely, said she, was that "some of the new girls in the office were just generating random lists".
WHAT???????
I mean, seriously.
Many thanks to the Mother of all Jurries, who alerted me that yesterday was the birthday of Robert Burns, the Bard of Scotland, and therefore the holiday known the world round as Burns night. Unfortunately the Birns did not have a traditional Burns dinner, though if we had...
We would have dined in style on cock-a-leekie soup, haggis, tatties and neeps (mashed potatoes and rutabagas), clootie dumpling pudding, and other such Scottish delicacies. All of this washed down with adequate amounts of the "water of life" (Scotch whiskey, naturally). We would have read the Address to a Haggis, with appropriate amounts of irony and humor, of course.
A time of "immortal memory" would have followed, with reminiscences of Burn's life and works expounded on at length. Steve would've proposed a toast to the lassy who had prepared the meal, along with sharing his views on womankind. I would then return the favor, with a toast to the laddy and a general ruminating on the shortcomings of men. This done, we'd have read our favorite Burns poems, sung our favorite Burns songs, and danced the Highland Fling. Festivities over, we'd have sung Auld Lang Syne, and called it a night.
Sadly, we didn't do any of this. I did make shortbread for prayer meeting though. It was good.
Selkirk Grace
Some hae meat and cannot eat.
Some cannot eat that want it:
But we hae meat and we can eat,
Sae let the Lord be thankit.
At long last I get around to putting the ultrasound pictures. We're so glad that our son seems to be healthy and well. He certainly is an active boy, with an apparent enthusiasm (and corresponding lack of talent) for dancing, particularly (but not limited to) between 2 and 4 in the morning. This dancing of course stops as I want to have Steve feel the baby's movements. A very stubborn boy, our Stuart.
Early this morning while the baby danced himself silly, I laid awake thinking big, ponderous thoughts. Well, honestly, most of my thoughts were of how much I wanted to be sleeping, but I did have some good thoughts. And the thing that strikes me about the middle of the night is how it's a perfect time for prayer. There are none of the distractions (well, besides rhythm-impaired infants) that exist during the day. No chores to be done, no blogs to be checked (it's been 2 minutes - there might be something new!), no errands to run, no calls to be made, no barking and dissenting dogs to discipline, no pretty, sparkly, brightly colored objects to be distracted by. It's 2 in the morning, it's dark, the bed is comfy and therefore a better alternative to being up, and things are generally pretty peaceful.
I won't say all that I prayed for, except to say that there were very fervent thanks to God for the man who invented Tums (I'm very grateful to this man, whomever he might be). I will say that I am very grateful to God for all His blessings in my life, including unborn white boys who can't dance. :-)
Yes folks, it's a boy. Stuart Mark Birn is due April 27, 2007, and those who know such things inform me that he is healthy and well and developmentally on track. We give thanks to God for this blessing, and covet prayers for continued health.
Ultrasound pictures are forthcoming.
BTW - I think little Stuart would look really cute in one of these (and for those of you who were sure it was a girl and wanted to order one of these, remember, Stuart might have a sister someday :-) )
Well, well. You've all done very well. Your suggestions for local eateries all sounded good, and were mostly within the boundaries of the rules. I was pleased to see some of my favorite spots recommended, some more than once. As I said, I figured this out earlier. But.... now I've rethought it several times. So the revised list goes as follows:
Breakfast: Now this is hard. I happen to love Wolfgang's Eggs Benedict, and though I've never tried them at Real Food Cafe or the Red Geranium, I'm sure they're scrumptious there as well. Still, all things considered, I'm going to stick with Brandywine. The Brandy Benedict is amazing (loaded with chicken, spinach, tomato, and cheese - yum), and comes with potatoes. Since I'm boring and only drink water when I go out, my total here is $7.50.
Lunch: Again, I am conflicted. I love the Cottage Bar (no one else in town makes better burgers, except of course my dear Mr B), enjoy Two Choppers (the almost Soup Nazi-ish style of ordering is worth it when you've got a yummy gyro to show for it), and am partial to the Real Food Cafe (I'm convinced they make everything with a stick of butter. How bad could that be?). I have to give a shout out to Russ' here, and say that as long as you don't order the hot turkey sandwich, most of the sandwiches are delightful. However, I had a big breakfast, and want something light. Therefore, a trip to Marie Catrib's is in order, where the hummus and tabbouleh pita is delish. I can't remember exactly how much that costs, but I'm going to guess it's in the neighborhood of $7.00.
Snack: A little slice of happiness in the form of Arnie's Dutch Chocolate Torte. It's dark chocolate, so it's good for you. Yeah. Costs somewhere around $3.00.
Dinner: San Chez is really really good. So is Tre Cugini. So is Pietros. And One Trick Pony, and Yen Ching (though sadly, as noted before, the good Yen Ching is closed), and Osta's and so many more. But right now I'm in the mood for chicken vesuvio, and no one makes it better (if they make it at all) than Olive's in East GR. The large portion goes for about $14.00, and comes with yummy potatoes and artichokes.
Dessert: The only no contest question. Any of the yummerific confections at La Dolce Vita, taking out that last $8.00. Yes, I know I got cake for snack. Shut up. It's good cake and I ate a light lunch. And La Dolce Vita is not to be missed. It's fantastic. Seriously.
Total cost:
$39.50
I think I want cake now. In fact, I think I need cake. The baby needs cake. Mmmmm....
Those of you who read my husband's blog know that he recently posted about our fascination with and loathing for tv cook Rachael Ray. It would be as well to say here that we do occasionally use her recipes and certainly her general ideas when creating the daily gourmet feast known as dinner at the Birns. However, the queen of perkiness does grate on the nerves after not too long. Why do we watch? Clearly we're sick. Shut up. We can stop whenever we want to. Yeah.
Anyway, where I'm going with this is: amongst her many shows, Rachael Ray hosts a program entitled $40 a Day, wherin she visits different cities (usually American, though she has gone to Europe). The gimmick is that she has a budget of $40 per day (duh) with which to feed herself (breakfast, lunch, and dinner, sometimes with a drink or snack thrown in). She patronizes only local establishments, and often supposedly gets the opinion of the yocals as to where the best places are.
SO... my question is this, where would you go here in the greater Grand Rapids area* with $40 to blow? Now, in order to play this little game of mine, you have to give recommendations for breakfast, lunch, and dinner (if you think you'd have monies to spare for a snack or drink, please share where you'd spend them) . If you have favorite dishes at your restaurants, please name them, and better still, if you have a general idea of cost, include that. You don't have to figure in tips - Rachael Ray only does when it suits her. No going out of your way to impress me with your thriftiness either. If you happen to come in severely under budget, so be it, but the point is to get the most out of your forty bucks. Local chains are allowed, but no national chains or big box eateries. Them's the rules, baby. **
Where would I go? I figured it out earlier. I'll tell you later. I want to see if other people have the same ideas as I do. In fact, I'm really looking forward to seeing where y'all would go. Mostly because I'm nosy, but also because I'm hungry, despite a very delish lunch at a place that may well show up on some lists here.
Isn't this a fun game? We can all sit and think about food. Not much better than that, I'm thinking.
*To those reading outside GR that would still like to play, go ahead. I'll have no choice but to trust your recommendations. :)
**A note to certain wise guys who work at a certain local chain who may or may not be related to me - entries listing breakfast, lunch, and dinner all deriving from the same local chain (even if they are different locations) are considered invalid. Nice try.
Today I ate a whole can of French's Onion Rings - the cheesy kind to boot - all by myself.
Further confession - I feel no remorse.
First of all and most importantly of all, I have joyous news to impart. As of last week, D&W (otherwise a mostly worthless and overpriced grocery, but I say nothing) is carrying a line of stir-fry sauces from Yen Ching. This line includes General Tso sauce - hooray! Now I just have to figure out how to make the tempura chicken. That'll be easy, right?
As my dear Mr B has recorded already, last week found us in Chicago. There, as you will certainly gather from his account, we ate like pigs who had lost interest in life and really let themselves go. Not recorded in his posts are the visits to the Ghiradelli, Hershey, and Lindt stores. To all who anticipate travel to the Windy City, note this: each of these stores offers free samples upon entering the store, and the person handing out free samples never looks up. You can go through again and again and they never catch on. Fun times. All I can say is that the baby wanted chocolate. And as far as the Morton's dinner went... well, clearly the baby wanted beef and lots of it. They say protein is important during pregnancy, right?
We attended the Chicago Symphony Orchestra's performance of Mahler's Third Symphony. Firstly, the positives. The building is very beautiful. The symphony orchestra itself is a very talented group, with the brass section in particular getting a chance to shine. Michelle DeYoung was the visiting mezzo-soprano and she does have a very lovely voice (though girlfriend should consider some anti-frizz treatment for her hair). I hadn't been to a symphony performance so far this year, and thoroughly enjoyed going again. I really do enjoy classical music and am always ready to jump at an opportunity to attend a performance.
Now. The negatives. I have two main complaints, neither of which I expect sympathy for, but which I shall share nonetheless. First of all, while flanked on the left by my dear Mr B, seated next to me on the right was a gentleman of considerable girth and not so apparent standards of hygiene. That is to say, he stunk to high heaven. In addition to these considerable disadvantages, he appeared to suffer from emphysema or COPD or some such respiratory distress. This distress he made worse by silently weeping throughout the duration of the performance. The pattern of the evening was then to weep and wheeze, alternately, with some apparently moving sections producing heavier weeping and the resultant desperate wheezing and clutching for air. Strangely, all this silent but copious emotion and pulminary distress seemed to make the stench worse. Most distressing.
The second negative is that the symphony was written by Mahler. Now, it may well be that Herr Mahler was a convivial sort, perhaps even a barrel of laughs. I don't know much about his life. What I do know is that he wrote some really awful music. The 3rd Symphony, which we heard, was apparently based off a work of Nietzsche. Not a good indicator of what was to come. His music is why people think they hate classical music. It's the sort of music that goes on and on and on being quiet and boring only to startle all of the dozing audience by having the trumpets and drums come crashing in pointlessly. If the Symphony we heard was any indication of Mahler's other works, he seemed to be a fan of the endless ending. That's when the music gives every indication that it is coming to an end, and in fact seems to have ended, only to, against all reason, continue and give at least five more false endings before finally, mercifully, coming to a stop. They should consider playing Mahler down at Club Gitmo. While awful in a different way than Britney Spears, it might be just as effective.
That said, it was fun to go and I'm glad we went. We had fun times shopping on Michigan Ave and certainly enjoyed the trip over all. Fun times, y'all.
In other news, the ignitor went out on my oven, but will be replaced tomorrow (let the peasants rejoice).
Last night Mr B and I went to a dismally boring training session on how to be poll challengers. I hope the job isn't as boring as the training and I really hope I don't have to work with some of the yutzes who were asking stupid questions and prolonging the agony for all of us. I am anxious to see which ghetto precinct they're going to put me into and whether or not I'll have to do much challenging. I actually hope I get to challenge something and feel like I did my part to keep election procedures fair, legal, and etc. Also, I think I will bring cookies so the poll workers will like me.
Hmmm... what else? Probably not so much. Mayhap I will write more soon, but I wouldn't count on it if I were you. Also, how is it one updates to this Beta Blogger, and is it worth it? Hmm...
Right now I desperately want to eat General Tso chicken from Yen Ching. But not Yen Ching on 28th St. They don't make it right there. I want General Tso chicken from Yen Ching downtown, which of course has been closed for a couple of years. And no other Chinese place will do. If it be not Yen Ching, it be not worthwhile. I thusly recognize that this craving is impossible to fufill. That, however, does not mean I can focus on anything else. All I can think about is lovely General Tso chicken. Yummy spicy crispy chicken. With sticky rice. Or maybe fried rice. Yeah, fried rice. And crab rangoon. And that tea they made at Yen Ching (downtown, of course). Oy. It's gonna be a long day.
I'm not ready for winter yet.
strok
Fitty-two.
In accordance with prophecy.
Heh. I really just wanted to use that for a post title. I have no earthly idea what this post will actually be about. How fun for you, the reader.
Weeeeellllllllllllllll.......... lessee. This week.... hmmmm.... well, we discovered that we're quite good at making gumbo, and quite awful at thinking ahead. I suppose if we had thought ahead, we could've cut the recipe in half, or maybe even quarters. But no. We aren't smart like that. We instead made a vat full of it, and I'm quite serious when I say that I can't stand the sight of it anymore. But it is delicious. Maybe we'll airmail it to some starving goodish sized country.
Also discovered this week was the third floor here at Chez Birn. Mrs P was so good as to accompany me on this adventure, and will bear witness to the extreme coolness of said attic. Lovely wood floors, exposed brick, nifty windows - I'm quite excited.
Is it cheating to link to something someone else just linked? Very well, then, I'm a cheat. My brother John linked this WAY awesome music video several weeks ago and since I'm a big old dork, I still think it's cool despite repeated viewings and the fact that it's probably really not cool at all to begin with. That's ok. I'm good with being a dork.
So tomorrow begins MSU football season. Oy. Not going to tomorrow's game, but instead will experience football widowhood for the first time. Maybe I'll go shopping. Yeah. And get new football widowhood shoes. Ok, maybe I can live with this.
Anyway, another boring post concluded. I really ought to start a nice educational series of posts soon. Yes. Yes, indeed. I shall.
Maybe.
Well, Mr B and I returned from our stint as delegates at the Michigan Republican Convention. It was an interesting time, frought with amusement.
It also resurrected one of my 314 (or so) pet peeves and personal bugaboos. That is the apparent ignorance on the part of those in government as to what system of government operates in this country. I couldn't blame you if you thought you lived in a democracy. All our state officials think so too. As a matter of fact, our president seems under that impression as well. Sadly, all of them are wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Because the United States of America is not a democracy.
That's right, I said it. We don't live in a democracy. We live in a representative republic. There's a difference. Now, those representatives are voted into office in a democratic fashion. This is admirable. But it does not a true democracy make. It merely means that democratic principles are upheld within the context of a representative republic.
So the next time you hear some politician talking about this great democracy that we live in, scratch your head a bit and wonder : does this person live in a different country (like California?) and does he or she think we live there too? or is he or she just plain ignorant? Maybe they weren't paying attention in grade school (which is when I learned this), or worse, maybe it's just not taught anymore. Either way is a sad state of affairs.
Pfui.
This is only like the coolest brog ever. It's wonderful! I love it! It's great! Well, it's pretty good. It's not too bad. There are some parts that aren't that great. It actually could be a lot better. I don't really like it all that much. It's pretty terrible. It's awful, as a matter of fact.
Who do you think it was that first looked at salt and thought, "Hey, I'll eat that!", and more importantly, why?
Well, folks, even grooviness, penultimate though it be, takes a vacation now and then. But all vacations must come to an end sooner or later. Elstwise they would not be vacations, would they? Exactly.
At any rate, grooviness and coolness are abounding. For serious. For instance, yesterday I went to vote in the primaries and got to vote for my own husband. How cool is that? I mean, really. That's pretty sweet stuff there.
Mrs P has returned from her sojurn in Canada bearing news of a new Ikea store in Canton. The excitement is pert near too much, I can tell you. I've got a little list...
I've often thought about the kind of bakery I would open, given half a chance. I found it, last Saturday, whilst in Detroit. Mr B, who is always spot on when it comes to predicting what I will and will not like, assured me I would love the Astoria Pastry Shop in Greektown. I doubted, to my shame, and was proved wrong in a big way. This place is amazing. I found, to my dissapointment, that my husband did not intend to buy me one of everything so I could sample the full range of yumminess. I instead contented myself with the chocolate mousse, a cookie, and a promise that every future sporting event I am dragged to in the Motor City will be rewarded by a visit to my new favorite bakery. I think I can live with that.
I promised several posts re: our Italian adventures. I will try to scrabble something together later. For now, I will tell the tale of a very obnoxious American tourist. We were seated in a lovely trattoria, enjoying the customary long pause between ordering and receiving our food, when we couldn't help overhearing a loud, brightly dressed, very American woman. She was surveying her menu (full of unbelievably delicious Italian food) and was unable to find that which she sought after. She then interrogated the waiter, "Do you have spaghetti and meatballs? You know, meatballs? You make them with hamburger and breadcrumbs and egg? Meatballs? They're Italian!" It was at that moment that I clearly saw why Europeans hate Americans. And I really can't say as I blame them.
Well, well. Can't sit around typing all day. Must move along. On a final note of coolness, I just want to say welcome back to blogging, Loretta. Very cool.
I updated.
Scared ya there, didn't I? Heh. The above quote was first uttered by a passing British tourist, in regards to Florentine statuary. Said tourist was correct, incidentally.
Italy was absolutely amazing. I will post about our travels in greater detail later on, suffice it to say for now that it was beautiful. Florence and Siena were my favorites, though I loved the Cinque Terre. We spent one day in Bologna and that was one day too many, I regret to say. Venice was at once decrepit and lovely. That said, it wasn't my fav. Since hardly anyone actually lives there, it's mostly tourists, and that tries the nerves.
The tourists, you see, are an interesting lot. There were the Germans, who were rude and obnoxious and also still seem under the impression that Italy belongs to them. There were the Japanese, who raced after their tour guide's uplifted umbrella, determined to see the five things they came to see and nothing else. The Brits were hilarious, providing hours of entertainment and education to the casual eavesdropper. They seem to work in teams - they all take turns providing opportunities for each other to pontificate on art, history, botany, or whatever happens to be the topic du jour. I'll give 'em this much - they did their homework before they came.
And then there are the Americans. Oy. How embarrassing. There's nothing worse than realizing that your countrymen visiting abroad are treating the place like Epcot. A hint to those who would travel - Europe is not a zoo. I'll be writing a rant about obnoxious American tourists at some point this week. I've got issues with these folk.
The food, should you wish to know, was far and away the best I've had ever. I loved loved loved loved loved the gelato (and whaddya know? there's a stand on every corner!) and we got some chocolate yummiliciousness at the pasticherrias as well. I'm somewhat addicted to prosciutto and fresh mozzerella sandwiches now, as well as Nutella and biscuits for breakfast. And someday maybe I'll be able to eat pasta at a resturant here in the states, but it won't be soon. It's just too soon to desecrate the memory of real Italian pasta.
The countryside was spectacular. We had really lovely views from our rooms while in Tuscany, and the Mediterrianian is breathtakingly beautiful. I think we were able to balance seeing really important sights and living somewhat like locals, albeit rather odd locals. We visited world famous art museums, and sat in a local laundromat. We walked in a grand palace and skulked around in it's dungeons. We walked and walked and walked and walked and walked (we NEEDED the gelato for energy! yeah! that's the ticket!), and spent some lovely hours hanging out in the piazzas
Ah yes, so much to write about, but frankly, I'm jet-lagged and have had to re-type almost every word. This won't do at all. I'll write more later. By the way, the links in the second paragraph are to our pictures. These aren't all of them, but they're by far the best. Ciao ciao!
Bears:
Extra! Extra! Somebody's getting married!
Somebody's getting married? HEY, somebody's getting married!
Whoa, somebody's getting married!
Pops: Somebody's getting married???
Lew Zealand: Somebody's getting marrrrieeeed!
Group:
Somebody's getting married! Somebody's getting married! Somebody's getting somebody's getting somebody's getting somebody somebody somebody somebody...!
Kermit, Gonzo, Fozzie, Scooter:
Somebody get some flowers!
Somebody get a ring!
Somebody get a chapel and a choir to sing!
Kermit: Somebody get an organ to play!
Singing Tuxedos: Cause somebody's getting married today!
Miss Piggy, Janice, Camilla:
Somebody get a preacher!
Somebody bake a cake!
Somebody get some shoes and rice and presents to take!
Miss Piggy: Somebody get a sweet negilee!
Singing Veils: Cause somebody's getting married today!
Swedish Chef: Veddeeng! Veddeeng! Peeg und fruggeee veddeeng!
Men:
Somebody get champagne!
Somebody rent a room!
Girls:
Somebody get the lovely bride!
And somebody get the-
Men: Somebody get the-
Both: Somebody somebody somebody somebody somebody--!
Female Voices: Somebody get this wedding underway!
Swedish Chef: Coose-a sumebudy's getteeng merreeed toodey!
Bear Family: Somebody's getting married....today!
Ernie: Are they here yet, are they here yet, did I miss it, am I late?
Bert: No, they're be here any minute!
Cookie Monster: Oh boy, me can hardly wait.
Pops: Isn't this exciting--it's the wedding of the year!
Sam The Eagle: Well, can't we start without them?
Muppet News Anchorman: No, you can't until they're here.
Sam: Hmm.
Chorus of Penguins: They're finally getting married now!
I'm getting married tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Huzzah and hurrah for those good old crumpets, my brothers. These chaps rallied round and made me a rather splendid present of the complete Jeeves and Wooster series on DVD. Absolutely topping and all that. Words fail to express gratitude, etc for said marvelous gift.
Congratulations to Justin and Marion Pickering on the birth of their precious baby boy, George Brice!!! He's here!!!!!!
Everyone keeps asking me if I'm nervous yet. This makes me nervous.
Well, ARE you nervous yet?
So I've had this song stuck in my head all day; and as I see it, the best way to rid myself of it is to, that's right, blog about it. Or not so much blog about it as simply put up the lyrics. Though it's worth mentioning that the version with Eric Idle (as pictured above) is quite amusing. OK. So this is a complete cop-out of a post. Shut up. I'll write about interesting things again this summer. Maybe. We'll see. Read the lyrics. Gah.
Katisha:
There is beauty in the bellow of the blast,
There is grandeur in the growling of the gale,
There is eloquent outpouring
When the lion is a-roaring,
And the tiger is a-lashing of his tail!
Ko-Ko:
Yes, I like to see a tiger
From the Congo or the Niger,
And especially when lashing of his tail!
Katisha:
Volcanoes have a splendour that is grim,
And earthquakes only terrify the dolts,
But to him who's scientific
There's nothing that's terrific
In the falling of a flight of thunderbolts!
Ko-Ko:
Yes, in spite of all my meekness,
If I have a little weakness,
It's a passion for a flight of thunderbolts!
Both:
If that is so,
Sing derry down derry!
It's evident, very,
Our tastes are one.
Away we'll go,
And merrily marry,
Nor tardily tarry
Till day is done!
Ko-Ko:
There is beauty in extreme old age —
Do you fancy you are elderly enough?
Information I'm requesting
On a subject interesting:
Is a maiden all the better when she's tough?
Katisha:
Throughout this wide dominion
It's the general opinion
That she'll last a good deal longer when she's tough.
Ko-Ko:
Are you old enough to marry, do you think?
Won't you wait till you are eighty in the shade?
There's a fascination frantic
In a ruin that's romantic;
Do you think you are sufficiently decayed?
Katisha:
To the matter that you mention
I have given some attention,
And I think I am sufficiently decayed.
Both:
If that is so,
Sing derry down derry!
It's evident, very,
Our tastes are one.
Away we'll go,
And merrily marry,
Nor tardily tarry
Till day is done!
If that is so,
Sing derry down derry!
It's evident, very,
Our tastes are one.
Away we'll go,
And merrily marry,
Nor tardily tarry
Till day is done!
Sing derry down derry!
We'll merrily marry,
Nor tardily tarry
Till day is done!
So ever since John and Chuck posted about Animaniacs stuff on YouTube, I've been struck with how educational a show my favorite cartoon really was. That's right. I said it was educational. Not a waste of time at all. No. It was educational. Yeah. That's my story. I'm stickin' with it. It was instructive and informative. Note, if you will, the geographical lessons - nations of the world, states and capitols, even planets of our solar system. The senses song is classic, of course, but nothing, no nothing, can possibly compete with the coolest song ever. Neuroanatomy rocks, y'all.
OK, just some random thoughts today, written in a self absorbed manner, not unlike a livejournal or similar wanna be blog. I really should be cleaning, but sitting down and typing whatever fool thing comes to my head sounded much better. That's right. I'm cool like that.
On the subject of Lebanese food in Grand Rapids - first of all, I just want to say that I am a fan. Second of all, I thought it over, and really, Marie Catrib's has the best hummus. But Osta's Chicken Tawook is amazing and the baklava was the best I've had in a long time. So really, you can't miss.
On the subject of cleaning, which isn't sounding any better at the moment, frankly - I have waaaayyyy too much stuff here in my room. Seriously, it'd be easier to set fire to it than take care of it. Don't worry, Mom, I won't. I shall instead inflict all this stuff upon the poor. Yeah.
On the subject of shopping - again, I'm a fan. Blue Turtle Books (I'm pretty sure that's what the name was) at Godfrey and Hall is a way fun place. I intend to go there often. There is no finer smell in the world than used books. Except perhaps rubber cement. But that's probably just me.
Also on the subject of shopping - Rumor is that The Pepperberry closed. I hope this isn't true. I liked that place. Didn't often buy there, which is probably why they're closed, but I liked wandering around there.
On the subject of very exciting events - yesterday I got to feel little George Pickering kicking his poor mother. He's going to be here soon! I can't wait to hold him!
On a related subject, but with a strange and slightly depressing thought - Chances are really good that said George will be taller than me when he's ten. Great. I'll be his old and short Aunt Janna. He'll probably pat me on the head. Gah.
Back to cleaning - Haley's Hints is a great book, but what I wonder is who decided in the first place to try some of these things? I mean, I wouldn't look at a stain and think, "well, I'll mix some vinegar and toothpaste and salt and water softener and baking soda, spread it on a cut lemon, rub it on, and hope for the best!". But all these hints seem to work, so bully to whoever thought outside the box.
On the subject of still avoiding actual work - I could go for some waffles right now. Mmmmm.....
On the subject of things a certain brother is going to install on my computer - The Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam has this nifty widget thingy whereby they send you a different painting from their collection every single day. Also, it must be said, the Rijksmuseum website is much, much, much nicer and more informative than the Uffizi site. Not that that does me a bit of good, but still, there it is.
On the subject of waitressing - well, the less said about that the better. I'm almost done. I'll miss my coworkers at Russ' for sure. They're a great bunch of people. That said, I'm sick of getting pocket change and gospel tracts for tips. Cheap Dutchies, leaving me carefully counted out pennies, as if I work there for fun and the pennies are a pleasant bonus, rather than my main form of income. And then there was that Jew who came in the other night, insisted I wait on his table, and then made me give him a penny to help cover his bill. Gosh. Who let him in?
On the subject of the wedding - it's only four weeks away. Wow. It seems like everything's coming together. I don't know. I feel like I'm forgetting something. Oh well. It probably isn't anything important. Hopefully.
On the subject of things annoying, irritating, and generally pesky - My hair. It's a disaster. Seriously, growing it out sounds all fine and well, but it has no style now. I'd cut it all off, but for the wedding. I swear, I will get it cut in Italy.
On the subject of fun times - getting reply cards from wedding invites makes me happy. Of course, getting mail generally always makes me happy. There's something about a letter coming in the mail that can never be matched by email. The only thing better is getting a package from UPS. Oh yeah. I've got two coming. Excitement.
OK - I've slacked off WAY too long now. Back to work. This is a long post, so I don't expect I'll get more that 10 comments. Had I posted, "lalalalalalalalala", I might have gotten something like 87 comments, but I've been given to understand that that is demoralizing to fellow broggers, and we can't have that. No, indeedy. Also, I'm realizing that there's no way to end this post, except abruptly.
Woe to us that we should see the day! Ruffians and hooligans are wandering the streets of the previously halycon Grandville, egging the unoffending vehicles of the citizenry at will! Dissipation and profligacy abound! Will Grandville become the next ghetto? Will all cars be vulnerable to the evil intentions of various rotters and bad eggs (punny)? We fear. We tremble. We are dashed well shaken to the core. Or not. Either, really.
So this was freaky weird. I looked at the clock, and it said 3:43. I looked again what surely seemed to be a minute later and the clock still said 3:43. I gazed upon the timepiece for what seemed to be a lifetime, and it remained at 3:43. I concluded the clock had become frozen. I couldn't resist one last look only seconds later - imagine my suprise when I saw that not only was 3:43 done and over, but the clock had seemingly given 3:44 a miss and gone straight to 3:45. I'm now scared of my obviously possessed clock.
It also occurs to me that perhaps 4 in the morning is not the wisest time to be shopping on Ebay. Too bad, that.
So it seems.
I've been thinking lately about my days spent at the flower shop. People have the mistaken impression that what florists do all day is make daisy chains or something. Would that this were true. Mose of the time, a flower shop employee is dealing with the lunatic demands of the nouveau riche; all the while knowing that, no matter what, there will be nasty complaint calls to deal with. Some of our customers had extremely vivid imaginations and would conjure up, not only the most ghastly ideas for floral arrangements, but extreme conspiracy theories about how we were trying to make them look bad.
The best complaint call I ever had was in reference to an order I had only taken under duress (at Valentine's, no less). A man of dubious charm decided that nothing would do but to send a bud vase with a dead red rose, a dead white rose, and a perfect pink rose. He had dreamed up some sappy symbolism about how he and his girlfriend were, separately, like the dead roses, in that they were imperfect. But, and this is where the sap levels rise dangerously, put together they made a perfect combination, i.e. the pink rose. It was all really stupid and I told him so. I argued and argued that we, as a professional florist, could not send dead flowers intentionally. He demanded to speak to the owner, and finally after a valiant battle, said owner relented.
Well, the moron didn't convey his hidden meaning in his card message. The girlfriend called and was furious. She was, she said, the laughingstock of the office (question: who laughs at someone who gets dead roses? Who is really that cruel? Most likely, the coworkers didn't care or notice. but I digress). Only after several minutes of screaming, sobbing, and angry recriminations and threats was I able to get a word in edgewise. I explained her idiot boyfriend's thought process and then had to deal with the enraptured gushings and bleating sobs of a thoroughly snowed woman. She thought that her boyfriend was about the sweetest thing ever and couldn't believe how thoughtful and creative he was. She seemed pleased by my observation that they seemed perfect for each other (thank goodness she missed the sarcasm!), and no doubt thinks of the shop fondly.
I miss the wackos.
Rejoice, all ye who have longed to better understand the enigma that is Present Reality! Our pleadings have not been in vain! Check out the newest brog! Judging by the first post, I would say that this is going to be an extremely interesting and just a little bizarre spot in the brogosphere.
Posted by Janna at 1:04 PM 29 comments
Monday, February 20, 2006
Spamming on Sunday: yes or no. Discuss.
So the penultimate groovitude of this blog is over then?
Poor penultimate grooviness is dead
Poor penultimate grooviness is dead
All gather round it's coffin now and cry
it had a heart of gold
And it wasn't very old
Oh why did such a blog have to die?
Poor janna's blog is dead
Poor janna's blog is dead
it's lookin' oh so peaceful and serene (and serene)
it's all laid out to rest
With it's hands acrost his chest
it's fingernails have never been so clean
Then the preacher'd get up and he'd say
"Folks, we are gathered here to mourn and groan over our fellow blog,penultimate grooviness
Who hung itself up by a rope in the smokehouse"
And then there'd be weepin' an' wailin' --- from some of those women ---
Then he'd say, "Janna's blog was the most misunderstood blog in this here territory
People used to think it was a updated blog and called it a up-to date and such
But
[sung]
The folks that really knowed it
Knowed that beneath them two short post's a year it always wore
There beat a heart as big as all outdoors (as big as all outdoors)
Penultimate grooviness loved it's fellow blogs (it loved his fellow blogs)
[spoken]
it's writer loved the readers of her blog
And the comments of the readers
she loved the bloggers and the friends in the internet
And she treated them like equals (which was right)
she loved all the little children
she loved everything and everybody in the world(except sea gulls)
Only . . . only she never let on
And nobody ever knowed it
[sung]
Poor Janna's blog is dead
Poor Janna's blog is dead
it' readers are weepin' wail for miles around (miles around)
The daisies in the dell
Will give out a different smell
Because poor janna's blog is underneath the ground
Poor Janna's blog is dead
A candle lights it's heading
it's layin' in a coffin made of wood (wood)
And folks are feelin' sad
'Cuz they used to treat it bad
And now they know their friend has gone for good (good)
Poor penultimate grooviness is dead
A candle lights it's heading
it's lookin' oh so purty and so nice
it looks like it's asleep
It's a shame that it won't keep
But it's summer and we're runnin' out a' ice
Poooooor Janna's blog
Poooooor penultimate grooviness
Come on, update already!
Ha, y'all got excited that there was a new comment. And it's just this rubbish instead.
It's just me leaving another boring comment. You really shouldn't get so worked up about something new here.
Hello? Um, hello? Is this thing on?
80 seems like a good, round number.
Wow. The "still pregnant" bit is still true.
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