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Statistics |
| Unique Visitors: 330 |
| Total Unique Visitors: 703986 |
| Visitors Out: 1023 |
| Total Visitors Out: 2862 |
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| Come On, Irene |
| 2011-08-26 23:25:37 |
Apparently, there's some rain storm or cold front or rogue rotary lawn sprinkler headed our way in the Boston area. "Irene", they've called it. Sounds like someone who gifts fruitcake at Christmas, not some scary beast that'll rip open your house and drag you out to sea.
(As an aside, I've never been all that comfortable with the naming of tropical storms with actual people names. Sure, the anthropomorphism is handy -- and we've got to call the things something, if only to give our meteorologists a word to repeatedly scream at us while they're reporting from a deluge at the storm front for no discernible reason.
"We've constructed radars and computer models and predictive algorithms that take into account wind shears and prevailing currents and which dung beetle in a nest in the middle of the Kalahari farted for how long in which direction."
But I always thought it was unfair to people who already had the names picked, and then have to live with the associated infamy forevermore. Ta...
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| The Greeting Guard |
| 2011-08-24 23:39:50 |
I'm always a little anxious around here about repeating myself.
(Unless -- I say, I say, unless -- I'm in a Foghorn Leghorn sorta mood.
That's Leghorn, son. It's a bird joke! I say, a bird joke! Your firehose don't go all the way out to the reservoir tip, do it, son?)
Repetition, as they say, begets... well, I don't know what they say it begets, exactly. But it's pretty boring reading the same thing over and over, so I try not to do it. That's the idea.
Of course, with several hundred entries piling up in the archives, it's not always possible to be entirely novel. So when I thought about posting something tonight that has to do with a certain security guard where I work, it occurred to me that I'd already posted something about a guard once. Different guard, but same office. And a different complaint. Still. Would it seem too similar? Would people read it and think, 'ah, he's running out of ideas; it's this old thing again'? Dare I risk falling into a guard-bashing rut? Oh noes!
...
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| Parental (Tour) Guidance |
| 2011-08-22 23:54:34 |
My parents came for a visit a couple of weekends ago. It's always nice to have them here on 'our turf', where the missus and I can show them around Boston and take in the sights and tastes and history of the area.
Except.
We've been here for over a decade now. In terms of 'touristy', we're all tapped out. At the same time, I don't have a great memory -- so the first few hours of the trip were spent being reminded that the things I'd thought of doing, they'd already done. As in:
Me: Hey, you guys want to check out Faneuil Hall?
Mom: Well, sure. But... isn't that the place we went to a few years ago?
Dad: Yep, I think it was. Near downtown, right?
Me: Oh... right. Well, what about a whale watch?
Mom: I don't know if I'd want to do that... again.
Me: Ah. Crap. Uh... catch a Red Sox game?
Dad: Like we did last year?
Me: Dammit. Museum of Fine Arts?
Mom: Seen it.
Me: Sam Adams brewery tour?
Dad: Done it.
Me: Wanna ride around on a duck boat?
Parents: Again? Yawn.
"Salem, to see the witc...
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| A Class-ic Conundrum |
| 2011-08-20 23:44:34 |
I mentioned a while back that the sitcom writing class I signed up for at my local Adult Education concern was unceremoniously canceled.
(Actually, I don't know that for certain. They may well have had a ceremony. I know Jenn, who was to teach it, had a little party about it. I think I scared her with my zookeepers.)
I also mentioned that the Adult Education concern was highly unconcerned about giving my money back, instead insisting that I take 'class credit' for a future offering in the fall. Well, now it's fall -- or close enough -- and their offerings are officially out. I've got the brochure right here. And I want a do-over.
First of all, there's nothing remotely like sitcom writing on the menu. I suppose that's to be expected when you offer it once, and some doofus with a blog and an idea about a bunch of giraffe brushers scares everyone else away. No problem. Point taken.
So I looked for other classes that might scratch the same itch. Or a similar itch. Or tickle and itch, a...
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| Love/Hate in an Elevator |
| 2011-08-18 23:59:28 |
At the office where I work, the powers that be have seen fit to break our group into two halves. All of us -- when there were precious fewer of us, back in the day -- once sat in the same area, on a renovated floor of a nice professional building. I'll call this spot 'the Tower', just to give it a name.
But we were cramped for space, and growing over time, so something had to be done. We couldn't get more space in the Tower; lord knows we're not nearly that important. And space was at a premium on the other floors of that building, as well. So when we split, a few intrepid souls were sent to the older, less-than-renovated 'functional' building next door to stake a claim. I should give this spot a name, to distinguish it from the first. Let's go with 'the Outhouse', just off the top of my head.
(If you prefer 'Ghetto Shack' or 'Dung Hovel', that's fine, too. Or 'Outhouse' will do. I think we're understanding each other here.)
So a few of us employees -- banishees? shunees? -- relocat...
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| A Flash (Fiction) in the Pan |
| 2011-08-16 11:31:50 |
A few weeks ago, my friend Jenn pointed me to the Flash Fiction Challenge over at NYCMidnight.com. They run a whole series of annual writing contests, and Jenn thought the upcoming one would be right up my alley.
Because it has a one thousand word limit.
And everything I write is so short.
Right. It takes me three lines and half a pen's ink just to endorse a check. My Post-It notes are the size of bedsheets. And I've just spent thirty words telling you I'm long-winded. I think you get the idea.
"A judging panel is the last bastion of hope for guys like me with less Twitter followers than your average fourteen-year-old Amish homeschoolee."
Still, I've been told it's important to step outside your 'comfort zone' once in a while. Mostly, I'm told this by someone trying to get me to put my pants back on, but the message is still valid. So I looked into this 'Flash Fiction' contest. Sadly, I wasn't able to enter due to a prior commitment -- namely, when the second part of the challenge...
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| Good Help Is So Easy to Lose |
| 2011-08-14 23:55:07 |
Day three. My wife's been gone since Thursday, visiting her family. I've been on my own for three full days, and things are looking grim. Mighty grim, indeed.
"On the bright side, I haven't eaten the dog. Yet."
On the bright side, I haven't eaten the dog. Yet. Although there's a good chance she would eat me back if I tried, so I'll probably avoid that mess altogether. But I chowed through all the usable food in the house long ago -- there's nothing but fancy mustard and some sort of frozen tofu something-or-other left. And I'm not that desperate. Maybe I'll try some of the dog's kibble. The mutt seems to live okay off of the stuff. And I'm pretty certain it's tofu-free.
Meanwhile, I've got to think about putting the house back together again. It's amazing how quickly a place can go to hell without adult supervision -- and even more, how many other people apparently took the weekend off when my wife left.
Like the Mail Fairy, for instance. I never check the mailbox. There's nothing ...
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| Hopeless Solo |
| 2011-08-12 19:34:32 |
This post is a miracle.
The very fact that I'm sitting in this chair and typing on a keyboard right now is itself an astonishing feat. Never mind that the words are (so far) stringing themselves together more or less coherently, and that they're headed for my website as planned, rather than some online petition to Save Transgendered Chinchillas or a Wilford Brimley moustache appreciation page. That's just angel-food icing on the miracle cake.
So why is this post so unlikely?
My wife is out of town for the weekend. Off to the middle of the country -- the kidneys of the nation, or perhaps the gallbladder -- to visit her family. But not me. Just her. Solo.
"'Bankrupt' is among the least of your worries, when 'Grease Fire', 'Explosive Canine Heimlich' and 'Naked Drunk Rooftop Karaoke' are still on the board."
That means I'm alone here in the condo, without adult supervision, until Monday night. Already I've endured a night on my own -- just me and the mutt, fending for ourselves. In t...
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| The Reviewer's Choice Awards |
| 2011-08-10 23:57:42 |
(Program Note: I'd like to thank the good folks -- Jenn and Kyle, that is -- over at the Mug of Woe collection, who've seen fit today to cast me in their 'Woeful Spotlight', a weekly series featuring contributors to the MuggaWoe effort.
"And I got to mention Stairmasters, Zeus, Wal-Mart, Neiztsche and gerunds all in the same piece, which is nice."
The spotlight is evidently black-and-white. Which is not the worst look for me, as dual colors go. And I got to mention Stairmasters, Zeus, Wal-Mart, Neiztsche and gerunds all in the same piece, which is nice. Go read. I'll wait.
And for that matter, pick up a copy on Amazon, if you like. It's 28% off right now, for some odd reason. You can't afford not to buy this thing, probably. Chop chop.)
Since we're half-spent already at this point, I'll just share a mild but uncomfortable dilemma I've managed to weasel myself into tonight. That should be a hoot.
You may be aware of the Zolton Does Amazon series I've been writing over at ZuG.com. I...
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| A Condo Conniption |
| 2011-08-08 23:58:55 |
I'm not overly protective of many things. My wife, my dog -- on a particularly 'frothy' day, my favorite sports team du saison, maybe. But that's about it.
Or so I thought. Evidently, my condo is also on the short list. I did not see that coming. Yet come it did. Like this:
"Maybe one of them bit or peed on or ate the other; I'm a little sketchy on the details, usually."
Yesterday, my wife returned from a walk with the dog and reported -- as often happens -- that they met another furry little leashed critter during their jaunt. Usually, she'll tell me what happened in the mutt encounter -- they got along, or they didn't. Maybe one of them bit or peed on or ate the other; I'm a little sketchy on the details, usually.
But this time, the missus focused on the pet owner:
'She was a really nice lady; we ran into her just down the block. Said they moved in just last month.'
'Mmm-hmm. That's nice, dear.'
'I told her we lived up the street, and she said they looked at a place right arou...
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