Hey Joe

November 30 – And so it ends

Today ends my 2007 NaBloPoMo obligation. You're welcome.

Remember that thing I said Monday about nuggets of wisdom? Yea, got none of those.

I am happy that I was able to do it, and maybe the three of you enjoyed reading a new post every day. I make no promises about December. While a part of me did enjoy the obligation, the feeling that it was important that I post, there's this other, lazier part of me who's looking forward to saying screw it, if indeed screw it is how I'm feeling.

And with the busy weekend we have coming up (Rocket Derby Day, report cards, clearing the landfill that we used to call our kitchen) it may well be a screw it kind of weekend. I hope yours is a good one.

I shall return.

November 29

Apropos of absolutely nothing more than the incredible weight on my shoulders and the jackboot of oppression on my throat, I give you Sonny, the cat.

Cats come in two types; cat cats and cats who believe they are dogs. Sonny is of the canine camp. Sonny craves human attention. While cat #2, Nellie, appreciates the occasional head scratch, normally she's content to disappear under a chair in the girl's room and go to sleep. When we're on vacation, next door neighbor Krista reports that Nellie will literally vanish for days at a time, choosing to fend for herself rather than come back to an empty house. But really, what's to miss? A bunch of large, clumsy humans?

Sonny, on the other hand, actually likes the large, hairless inhabitants of the house and enjoys spending time with them. Occasionally he'll even run with the boy, rolling around on the grass like a rat terrier. Sonny spends our vacation time hanging around the front yard, hoping against hope that the next car coming up the street will be ours. Three houses down is a family with three young children whom Sonny has adopted as his surrogate family. They've told us that often when they drive up the street, Sonny will emerge from beneath some bush and trot up the street to greet them. Their kids will play with him and rub his ample belly, and Sonny is happy.

Once, while we were gone, Sonny meowed beneath this couple's bedroom window in the middle of the night. I don't think they found this quite as amusing as I did.

"Meow [come on, let me in]. MeeeOW? [Hello? When I do this at that other house they open a door and feed me] ME – fucking – OW [I know you're in there! Ya'll shut the door on me a few hours ago, remember? I've got nowhere to be and nothing better to do than lick my butt, so I ain't going anywhere!]"

Often, when I go home for lunch, Sonny will come charging out of some bush as I pull into the driveway. He'll come inside, have a little snack and then fall asleep on the carpet or inside a box full of the kid's school work. I always feel sort of badly when it's time to toss him out. Why don't I just leave him inside, you ask? Because Sonny has an odd stomach which not only hangs low and swings when he runs, but that also tends to empty itself with annoying regularity.

If I don't see him around, I'll go in the house all ninja like , making as little noise as possible so as not to alert him to my presence. If I see him come to the sliding door, I'll hide on the other side of the wall so he won't see me. I realize this sounds kind of sad, actually hiding from my cat, but it's worse if he sees me because then I have to either:

• Pretend I don't see him
• Look at him and ignore him ( I can't imagine what he must think when I do this. And I have)
• Let him in, only to toss him out 20 minutes later just when he's curled up all cute-like and gone to sleep.

These are the kinds of decisions Joe must deal with. With great power comes great responsibility. It is my curse, my cross to bear.

November 28

So here we are in late November, smack in the middle of the Christmas Season. That was supposed to drip with irony. Did you feel the drip?

In holiday tradition, I've already made my annual bitch about the pre-Christmas blitz made by retailers and radio stations. But this particular bitch is about Christmas carols in general and stations that choose to play NOTHING BUT CHRISTMAS CAROLS in particular.

When it comes right down to it there are probably only a handful of true Christmas carols; the ones that we all know and recognize. In fact I'll even go so far as to say that there are 67 top Christmas Songs. But in reading through this list, there are only 52 that I truly know. With that in mind, how can a radio station play nothing but Christmas carols 24/7 for over a month? Talk about a short play list. How many fucking times can we hear José Feliciano sing Feliz Navidad before we want to slaughter a small animal?

And I'm a traditionalist by nature. I don't go in for all these "new" Holiday songs; "Kwanza Kringle" or "Drop that Sheep and Follow that Star." To me, those are not Christmas songs. Any of this made up holiday shit written within the past 25 years doesn't really count. Also, there are certain songs that require the original artist's rendering to truly be authentic. If I want to listen to White Christmas than I want Bing "I beat my kids and don't give a shit who knows it" Crosby at the mic, not Elton John. Sleigh Ride? Johnny Mathis, ditto Winter Wonderland. The Christmas Song? I'd better hear Nat "No I ain't Natalie" King Cole (or again, Johnny Mathis). I grew up with the album Merry Christmas – Johnny Mathis on LP, so that album is sort of the definitive Christmas album so far as I'm concerned.

If I could actually manage to listen to one of these stations for any length of time, I'd be curious to see how long it takes them to replay a song.

"Coming up in our next set we'll have The Beach Boys singing Santa Claus is Coming to Town followed by Santa Claus is Coming to Town by Bruce Springsteen. Also coming up will be Michael Bolton doing that holiday classic, Santa Claus is Coming to Town followed by Alvin & The Chipmunks doing their own unique version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town. We'll end our next ½ hour of uninterrupted music with Frank Sinatra and Cyndi Lauper performing a duet of Santa Claus is Coming to Town. We'll then play ten minutes of Christmas themed commercials but we'll be right back with the holiday music and that all time favorite Winter Wonderland as sung by Jewel, Air Supply, Elvis Presley, Dean Martin The Three Tenors, Neil Diamond, Toby Keith and Billy "Crash" Craddock."

"When you're just about, but not quite ready to hang yourself, we'll be serving up Jessica Simpson & Rosie O'Donnell double-teaming Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree, at which time you should have no trouble kicking out the chair."

November 27

An actual conversation that took place last night concerning this picture, drawn by the GIRL. The kids were supposed to be in bed, but kept getting up to throw notes back and forth into each other's rooms.

 

Me: What are you two doing?

Boy: She threw a note in my room that said I was a butt

Me: So?

Boy: Then I threw one in her room that said she was a weenie.

Me: sigh...

 

Both kids then get up to get water.

 

Boy: (To girl) What is the diaper that guy is wearing in the picture?

Girl: That's not a diaper, it's his butt and he's pooing.

Parents: Get to bed!

Boy: What is he pooing on!

Parents: Enough! Get to bed!

 

This piece of information is of vital importance to the boy, and he continues to holler from the confines of his bed:

 

Boy: What is he pooing on!!

 

This continues for several minutes. The girl has been instructed to ignore him and go to bed, but after completing her bed time tasks and the cries of "What is he pooing on" continue to emanate from the boy's room, the girl is told "You may answer one question from BOY."

Boy: What is he pooing on?

Girl: He's not pooing on anything, you're IN the poo. (note small person trapped in turd screaming "Help me!")

Boy: Ahhhhhhh!

Me to GIRL: What was he pooing on?

Lisa: Everybody knock it off!

R.I.P.

Kevin DuBrow

1955 – 2007

I realize that I've already completed my NaBloPoMo obligation for today, however Celebrity Deaths are not subject to the rules and time lines of NaBloPoMo.

So it is with a heavy heart that I report the death of Quiet Riot front man, Kevin DuBrow, found dead on Sunday in his Las Vegas home.

DuBrow and the rest of the QR boys, shot up the charts with their 1983 hit "Cum on Feel the Noize", a cover of Slade's 1973 hit. Quiet Riot was a staple on MTV during the music channel's infancy, and mine for that matter. Given my current age, I can now see how infantile I was at 18.

Details surrounding DuBrow's demise are scant. Reports indicate that he died of "unknown causes." I guess that rules out an attack by wild hogs. Damn. One so seldom gets to report something like that.

Autopsy results are pending.

Update - December 11, 2007

Autopsy results report that DuBrow died from an overdose of cocaine. Just another Rock 'n Roll OD story.

November 26 – The Home Stretch

I received the following e-mail today from Eden Kennedy, AKA Fussy.

A message to all members of NaBloPoMo

Welcome to the last week of NaBloPoMo. You may be feeling energized by all the posting or you may be feeling drained, but if you've stuck with it this far there's no point in giving up now! I will be doing the random drawing, checking blogs, and announcing prize winners this weekend, so be sure to click on the Prizes tab to see who's won. It will then be between the winner and the prize giver to e-mail each other and arrange for the transfer of the prize. So hang in there and good luck, bloggers! It's been a month!

Eden

So how about that; a little bit of accolades and recognition that I so crave. I now find myself…."energized" and inspired. OK, that's a load of horse shit, I'm drained and grumpy. OK, maybe just drained. But don't worry, grumpy will come. (That's what Snow White said)

So yes, here we are in the home stretch of NaBloPoMo. Do I have anything special to share? Any particular nuggets of wisdom I've gleaned from the experience? Not yet, but hey the week ain't over. There may be nuggets yet.

Here's a little nugget of information for you though, I work in the same building with what has to be the World's Fastest Shitter. Witness:

On my way to the can this morning, I noticed a suited gentleman following a short distance behind me in the hallway. He's some sort of health benefits sales guy. YAWN. Anyway, I enter the bathroom and sidle up to the urinal closest to stall #1. Suit enters the room, goes into stall #1 and shuts the door. Why he didn't go into one further down the row, I have no idea.

At times I can be a somewhat bashful performer in the bathroom. Stage fright coupled with a slight bit of prostate swelling and the sudden added concern of Suit shitting on my shoe and nothing's happening.

From the sound of things in the stall, Suit timed his shit to coincide exactly with the dropping of trou. (Truly a male art form). Remarkably it was about this time that my own stream begins. As my stream picks up steam, Suits in there thumping the TP roll, sending fist-full's of Charmin into the commode, and as I'm tapering off, I can hear the clanking of Suits belt buckle being fastened. We met nearly simultaneously at the sinks. I was THIS close to offering him props on the efficiency of his digestive tract, but somehow managed to contain myself.

So what's it all mean? Well, either the Saw Palmetto isn't working as well as it should, or Suit needs to lay off the coffee and bran muffins.

Four days to go. Are you as happy as I am?

November 25

It's almost 9:30 PM, Sunday night. Sometimes it is so hard to write, but before I hear from Pambasilea I figure I'd better get something down.

Sometimes it's so hard to find something to write about; did I say that already? It's not as if things haven't happened; there was the creek walk with the boy yesterday - trudging across rocks and through bamboo thickets in search of adventure, or short of that, cool stuff. This was after we'd gone up on the roof to put up the Christmas lights. Yes, they're up, but they won't be on until Dec. 1. They don't all work yet anyway. But the boy likes to go up on the roof, and there aren't many good excuses to allow him to get up there an run around. Excuse me, we walk when we're up on the roof. Had him clean out the gutters while he was up there too. He likes to feel useful, but more he likes money.  He threw off the Frisbees and other toys that somehow made their way on to the roof. He wanted to drop one down one of the venting pipes, but killjoy dad said no.

Saw Enchanted today. I actually enjoyed this more than I thought I would. I enjoyed the mostly new faces, aside from Susan Sarandon's old face. Besides hers, the only other one I recognized was Patrick "McDreamy" Dempsey. I don't know where this guy came from before he showed up on Grey's Anatomy, but the only thing I ever saw him in was 1987's "teen angst" film Can't Buy Me Love. His love interest was actress Amanda Peterson, whose career really caught fire after that film.

Thanksgiving was good, thanks for asking. Nothing that memorable; family and food. All in all, a fast five days. I'm sure I've left out lots but the details aren't coming and twenty-five days of straight blogging is taking its toll. I may need to call in sick for December.

November 24 - R.I.P.

Joe Kennedy

1979 - 2007

Major league pitcher, Joe Kennedy, died yesterday at the age of 28

Kennedy, who was visiting his in-laws in Tampa, Florida, apparently woke up at at 1:15 AM, got up and collapsed. He was pronounced dead at Brandon Hospital.

"Kennedy spent seven years in the majors, playing last season with Oakland, Arizona and Toronto. He also spent time with Tampa Bay and Colorado and had a 43-61 career record with a 4.79 ERA in 222 appearances."

The cause of his death is not yet known, but my guess is that vital shit stopped working.

November 23

No more will I encourage you to be thankful or cheery, for it seems that each time I do, immediately thereafter the curtain falls. From now on, you're on your own.

November 22 - Today, Gluttony is not a Sin

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all. I know we all have a lot to be thankful for, more than we tend to realize. How about we try to realize it today?

Super. OK then, enjoy that succulent, hot roasted turkey; creamy mashed potatoes flowing with rivers of brown gravy. And join me in lifting a glass of red wine to toast your health and good fortune.

Cheers.