Breaking News

OK, today I found out that my former doctor had himself changed into a woman. What exactly does this mean? Just because this guy did stuff to me that would make a billy goat puke, doesn't mean anything. He was my doctor. It was all on the up and up, doctor patient stuff. I mean, can I, or should I call him a freak. MY DOCTOR HAD A SEX CHANGE, PEOPLE! Does he have boobies now? Does that mean he was/is gay? And what does THAT mean? Was I molested? No, he is just a cool bug eyed doc who wants to be a woman, lets all move on. I wish him/her well.

The Water Guy.

I have this little cat and mouse thing going with the water guy at our favorite Chinese restaurant. We call the guy, Ghost Dog, because most of the time he refills your glass without you seeing him. Of course I drink a crazy amount of water, to make him keep coming back to our table. Even if I take a little sip he will come out from where ever he's hiding and top off my glass. This is no lie, my water glass was less than an inch from the top, Ghost Dog no where to be seen, I had just taken a baby sip. He comes out from the kitchen, halfway across the restaurant, passed about 15 tables, heads straight for my glass and fills it, then turned around and headed back into the kitchen, not stopping. How did he know? And he fills the glass so fast, if you blink you will miss it. He whips the glass off the table and whips it right back in the same spot. I watched the water in the glass as he put it down, it didn't move. A true master. He filled my glass at least 10 times. When the waiter put our leftovers in a bag, it blocked his view, he kept coming out from the kitchen to check on my glass but couldn't see it. I just smiled at him from across the restaurant, it must have made him mad. Don't get me wrong here, this man, I hold in high regard. He takes his job very seriously and it's a joy to watch such mastery. A job seemingly so simple he turns into an art. He is more like a mexican zen tea master than the water guy.

Bifocals

That last post was a little strange. Anyway, I got a coupon in the mail from my insurance company to get free eyeglasses from Sears. So I went today and, after the $60 eye exam, I paid $270 for my free glasses( that I'll get 3 to 14 days from now). I also found out I need bifocals. When the girl told me how much I had to pay, I punched her in the face(in my head) and started trashing the place like a gorilla in a luggage commercial(again, in my head). The D.O.M. has to wear bifocals, I'm starting to make myself sick.

Living off the land.

I just ate some zucchini, grown right here at "World Manliness Headquarters". I grew it out of the ground from a seed. From a stupid little seed, you freak show, comes a basket of wonder like I have never seen. Does it make me a farmer? Some would say yes. Does it make me better than you. That doesn't matter, don't measure yourself against my greatness! I don't have a carbon footprint. My tracks are like little hugs for the planet. I just took a shower with water heated from the sun. The SUN, the center of God's holy universe. I bathe in the sweet goodness of the suns love. After a shower I feel like I can put my fist of love right through a rhino's head.

Sunday Afternoon

Vicki and Taylor are down at the Folk Festival, doing really well selling paintings. I'm up here with the twins. We just picked some green beans and zucchini from the garden and will soon feast on our bounty. Mentally all done, want to jump off a building(or maybe just the shed).

Lowell Folk Festival

The Lowell Folk Festival begins today. Very exciting. Vicki(Art By Verde) will have a tent set up in the "Art In The Park" section of the festival. It starts tonight and runs through Sunday. The group Peter, Paul and Mary will be selling some of Vicki's paintings( no they wont). I'm covered in my sick kids vomit, but as soon as my hemp underwear comes out of the wash and I finish making this daisy headband I'll be heading down to infiltrate the freak show.

Getting "The Fear"

I'm in line at the pharmacy tonight, my sick daughter(six, and almost 40 lbs) in my arms. I've been holding her for a half an hour and my arm is starting to burn. They finally call my name. As I step up to pay, with one hand I get my wallet, and dig out the credit card, still holding my daughter with my other arm. She starts to vomit on my back and shoulders and I proceed with swiping the card, signing in two different places answering questions. Line of people behind me. I start to sweat, I can feel it running down the side of my face. Still being vomited on, I notice that the pharmacist has been talking to me. I can see his lips moving, he's right next to the cashier, three feet from me, but I hear no sound coming out of his mouth. I stretch my neck and kind of bug my eyes out and try to focus on him, girl still choking. All I hear is, blah blitty blah blah, something every eight hours, then nothing again. I feel like I'm burning up, cashier looks at me then takes the stylus out of my hand and clicks the final yes button on the credit card machine. I grab the meds, they say thank you,I say nothing. I walk out screaming at the top of my lungs(in my head). I think I just had my first anxiety attack

By the way....

My wife and I saw my tortoises giant "package" the other day. It was awful, he's hung like Shaquile Oneil. I don't know what was going on with him. I was looking out my back window, and there was Leo, in his pen. He looked like he was mounting an imaginary mate. He was frozen in this position, the rear part of his shell was touching the ground and his front legs and neck were stretched upward, like he was trying to look over the fence. We ran out to see what was the matter with him. When I picked him up, BAM, there it was. I got a rear view,(which was horrible enough) but Vicki got the full frontal view. We both walked away, like we just witnessed some fatal car wreck. We found a safe corner and hugged. By the way, his thing disappeared after I put him down.

Time is Near

Its been a week since I received my, "Kill the Squirrel" orders. I've been brooding over this dilemma day and night, the seed for killing, that I thought was buried for good, has started to grow again. Once again the thirst for the kill calls me. Its building like a great volcano that's about to erupt, no way of knowing exactly when. The squirrel must and will die, at my hands(which are like steel vices). My plan is to burst out of my house at blinding speed, the horror and quickness of my attack should stun the rodent just long enough for me to reach him. I will have to leap a good 8 feet into the air to snatch him, so I'll have to set up a small trampoline at the base of the feeder. Once I have the little bugger it will just a matter of tearing his cute little body to pieces.

Pie

My baby made me a blueberry pie today. She made it with her own sweet little hands. Fresh picked blueberries(when she uses frozen blueberries I mash her face in it), I just ate a giant piece with whipped cream. Very enjoyable, I wept a baby bit, at its wonderfulness. I cry a lot, so what, mostly when food is involved, or a good Duke Wayne movie. If I even think of "The Ballad of the Green Berets" I start to get welled up. I cry when I'm kicking someones ass. Anyway, that was some good pie.

Just a Thought

Why do all men who ride a bicycle have to wear a spandex Lance Armstrong costume? Because they are perverts. Men should only wear spandex when they are home, alone (and just a little drunk).

Pesky Critter

Thinking of getting a pygmy goat or some more chickens. I could get fresh milk from the goat. Having a goat around here might just be the missing ingredient. Vicki has instructed me to kill the squirrel that is stealing all the bird seed. I may have too. She keeps chasing it and pelting the poor little guy with rocks. Crushing its tiny little head may be my only option, I think we (the squirrel and I) would both be better off. Is it possible that the five hundred different birds we have out there could be eating some of the seeds? Well, before killing the little guy, I have raised the feeder to 10 feet, this way the squirrel cant get at it, and neither can my wife. It's a win, win deal. I don't have to crush a squirrel with a boulder, breaking my vow to love all sentient beings, although I would be killing out of love, so that may exempt me from some kind of bad karma deal. Where was I, oh, so I think this will solve the problem of Vicki. What? I started this babble, talking about my new goat. How do you milk a goat with out touching their scievey nipples. I like goat cheese. So tomorrow, I open the squirrel's back with a rake, just to prove my devotion to my wife.

Muldrow Glacier with Denali in the background

Dig the color co-ordinated outfit, with the old school Norm Abrahm wool shirt.

Umbrellas And Acting Like A Man

I actually saw a man holding an umbrella today. A man must never, ever hold an umbrella, unless its for a woman(and still don't get under it). Only women and babies use umbrellas. Also, when walking in the rain, don't crouch down and scurry along terrified that a little drop of water is going to kill you. To walk properly in the rain you walk slowly, just taking a little stroll. "Oh, it's raining?" "I hadn't noticed." A little extra bonus would be, if it's pouring out, stop and tie your shoe. Maybe lean up against a building and read the paper. The only exception to this rule is, if you need to stab someone and there happens to be an umbrella handy, like in the hand of the person that needs stabbing, then by all means use it.

I just took a shower with water heated from the sun. Check Mate, bitches.

I have been reading Tim Russert's book "Big Russ and me". Prompted by the death of Tim and by liking his other book, "Wisdom of Our Fathers" so much. Also having lost my father recently, I was looking forward to Tim recount some tales of his father. I was deeply affected by the death of Mr. Russert, he was a great American, no , he was a great human. I'm about 3/4 of the way through the book. Dullest book ever. The stories of my father's youth were just a tad more colorful. The last time I saw my Dad alive he was at my kitchen table and, out of the blue, told me of how someone let him borrow their car and he wouldn't give it back, so the guy hired Joe "The Animal" Barboza to get it back. When I asked him what happened, he just smirked and said he talked his way out of it and kept the car, which was stolen in the first place. Another story that comes to mind is about the guy Charlie "The Crow" or "Two Gun" Charlie. He seemed kind of a hero to my Dad, anyway Charlie wanted my Dad to go on a bank robbery with him, but he didn't want to go. "Two Gun" Charlie ended up being killed by the cops that day. My Dad said that the cops had set him up somehow.
Another time my father was recounting a particularly memorable arrest. The police cordoned off a city block in East Boston and there were like a hundred cops with guns drawn, he had machine guns pointed at him, I forget what the crime was, usually he would tell me it was mistaken identity. Anyway, I haven't gotten to that part in "Big Russ and Me" yet.

Leonardo

My Hen is missing

Its been nearly a week since one of my hens went missing. Its taken me until now to be able to talk about it. This was Ruben's only daughter. For those of you who don't know who Ruben is, you can read about him in some earlier posts. He was my son. To say he was a bad ass, never mind this isn't about him. But he would have torn your eyes out if you even looked at me the wrong way. Anyway, my bird is gone and I look for her every night, hoping she comes back to me. Most likely a fox or coyote got her,or maybe the tortoise, he's as big as a Prius. So tonight, sitting on my back steps I had a little confab with the remaining two hens. They were at my feet pecking mindlessly at the dirt. With my mind , I tried to get into their little heads. I figured if I concentrated hard enough, focusing on their skulls, I could find out any information they might have on what happened to Ruben's daughter. I stared at them, trying to mind meld with them, to no avail, I might as well have been staring at a couple of balloons. I do love them though. Looking at their little wings and legs, it makes me sick to think that people actually eat these beautiful creatures. I would become a vegetarian in a minute if vegetables and vegetarians didn't make me sick.

Todays Assignment

Spongebob painting

My neice asked me to paint her something inspirational for their new family workout room.

Dinner with the Mental Defective League

I went out to dinner with Vicki, on our 8Th anniversary. It was looking to be a nice quiet dinner when all of a sudden, JACKPOT!, a mental defective freak show of a family was seated next to us. Vicki had her back to them but I had a full view. There were two families on vacation. A party of thirteen. There were two younger couples(early twenties), and by far, the most normal of the group. They didn't say much. The rest of the "crew" were couples from about 55-95 years of age. The oldest, a James Arness/Marshal Dillon lookalike, sat at the head of the table. The gentleman sitting to his left was in his mid-nineties and had on a yellow t-shirt with STAFF written on the back. His belt, I am not exaggerating was just under his armpits. I call him "Ace". Facing "Ace", on Marshal Dillon's right was "He who laughs like a woman", he babbled almost incoherently throughout the whole dinner and he would brake out into the loudest Nathan Lane laugh at just about every joke he told, and his jokes lasted about 10 minutes and made no sense. So, right off the bat, as soon as they were seated, a waitress was carrying some steaks to a nearby table. Marshal Dillon, upon seeing a steak for the first time in his life, gets up and leans over OUR table to get a closer look at the steak that has landed on the table behind us. At first he was glaring at the steak, like it offended him in some way, then as he started to back off, he caught me staring at him and he gave me a very "That steak looks delicious" nod, and started to go back to his seat, only he turned away and headed off at the last second. I watched him walk away, then open the bathroom door, close it without going in, the disappear around the corner. He came back with a giant plate of cheese and crackers, sat down and started to gnaw. "Ace" just sat there with his head sticking out of his his waist. I think he was the muscle of the group, probably stormed the beaches at Normandy. "He who laughs like a woman" also giggled himself to the cheese and crackers. Just as he sat down, a waitress was walking by with a tray full of huge ice cream sundaes, at the sight of this, the whole table got really excited, they were like a bunch of monkeys, all bouncing up and down in their chairs, pointing to the ice cream and chattering amongst themselves, I half expected them to start eating bugs out of each others hair. The Nathan Lane laughter echoed throughout the restaurant. Before ordering dinner, Marshal Dillon asked for separate checks. Then they ordered dinner. "Is it clam season"?
"What's a potato"? "My napkin tastes funny" They got their food just as we were finishing our desert.

Ghost of The Old Man of the Mountains

I took this picture a few miles north of the "Old Man" site.