Last but not least

Dick and his giant dropping balls

Last year Dick Clark (a.k.a. America’s Oldest Teenager) had to sit out from his Rockin’ New Years Eve special because I guess he wasn’t feeling well. I’m sure it had nothing to do with that fact that he’s seventy six years years old.

I was kind of sad when I heard that because I’d spent nearly every New Years Eve watching Dick and his giant dropping balls ever since I can remember. I think Regis hosted last year’s if I recall correctly and it just wasn’t the same as spending the night in my jammies with good old Dick. Alas, it’s 2005 now and I just heard that Dick is stronger than ever and coming back to rock our world yet again with his giant sinking ball.

The earliest Dick memory I have is when Mom and Dad went out for New Years and we had a babysitter. Twas sometime in the early 80s, I reckon. I took our wee black and white teevee up into my room and watched the show in the dark. I had only watched Dick early Saturday mornings up until that point on American Bandstand. Seeing Dick alone in my bedroom late at night like that was a new experience – I knew Mom and Dad wouldn’t be too happy if they knew about it, but I was young and curious and it was worth the risk. Dick was a bit fuzzy and wiggly at first, but I stuck the antenna straight up and then he came through loud and clear.

I don’t remember much of who was on that night, but recall the true ass kicking I received when Dick stood up tall and firm and said “And now the queen of Rock and Roll, Pat Benetar!” Out she came in her headband and heavy cheekbone makeup to put everyone in their god damn places. Hit Me With Your Best Shot. Uh huh. Wow, I thought. I bet she gets drunk, makes out with guys, and then kills and eats them. The guitarist was making porno face at Dick while he did his solo and I thought WOW, he’s pretty dang tough the way he plays his guitar like that. Dick stood there off to the side watching and waiting… looking like he wanted to jump in and flop around.

And now here we are in 2005 and Dick is still hard at it. Many people would think at 76 years old that Dick would have a difficult time getting up and remaining upright for such a long period of time. I’m guessing at his age during commercial breaks Dick starts to feel exhausted and probably needs to be massaged so he can keep going. Hopefully the program directors stick Dick inside during the breaks as well to keep him warm… and I hope they know to keep Dick in motion while he's inside and warming up to keep that circulation going, otherwise old Dick might get a little sore.

I’m glad Dick is back this year, even if it’s for one last ride. I’ll get a tear in my eye thinking about that when I watch that big ball sink as Dick slides us into the New Year. And he always seems so happy and full of glee when it happens. But as old age takes its toll, that beloved gay Dick will soon become too worn out to stay up that long.

I hear that Ryan Seacrest is co-hosting this year. I’m not a fan of Ryan Seacrest. He’s so white that he’s clear. The vision of him sitting next to Dick sucks. It seems queer to think of seeing Dick next to what many refer to as the “next big thing”. The networks are hailing Ryan as The New Dick, but in my eyes, there’s only one Dick out there for me – the same old Dick I’ve known all of my life.

Happy New Year everyone, and let’s all drink to the good old hard working Dick this Saturday night!

Retrospection: A Very Micycle 2005 (complete and unabridged)

2005 has proven to be by far the craziest year ever for this fella. It started off quite horrifyingly, and I am glad to report ended to be one of the best yet in my 32.5 years of existence on this planet. I'd like to share with you, my faithful Meat Smoothie readers, a few observations I've made over the past 365 some odd days.

To anyone who has participated in making my year what it turned out to be, thank you. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Well... Maybe other than not having a job for so long.. But other than that, yeah. Homey is one happy monkey these days.

So without further ado, I present to you

2005: A Micycle Icicle Retrospective (complete and unabridged)

• For those of you flirting with the notion of time travel, FYI: January through June of 2005 was not a good time to be looking for a decent paying job. So bring money with you if you go.
  
• Two words: I've been to New fuckin' York, and I plan on returning.
  
• Kraft Macaroni and Cheese is still the cheesiest. Which in Macaroni and Cheese terms means “the orangy-est in color”.
  
• Until this Fall I hadn’t had my own place in quite some time. I was surprised to discover that I’m more tidy than I thought, and that I really enjoy the strategic placement of my belongings. I guess some people would refer to that as “decorating”


• Paying for coffee all the time now is not really all that fun.


• If you're going to move out of your apartment, try and time it so it's at the same time that they've sold the buildings and are converting them into condos. You don't have to clean shit when that happens. Just get your stuff out, collect your damage deposit, and Pass Go.


• I have yet to see Leon Redbone perform and have no idea how old he is (I don't think anyone really does), so am not sure how much time is left for me to see him before he checks out.


• I always fear that my songwriting well is going to run dry. This year it did exactly the opposite and shows no signs of slowing down anytime soon.


• Martha Stewart’s new show is actually pretty good, at least the few episodes I’ve seen. I still don’t get that t-shirt folding trick..


• I really miss Mitch Hedberg.


• I’m not bitching about plane fares anymore or worrying too much about gas prices when going out to visit moms and pops. I was just talking to a girl at the store who just spent $1300 to go to Ethiopia and see her family.


• I’m very picky when it comes to picking out shower curtains. You probably wouldn’t think so if you were to walk into my bathroom to see hundreds of cartoon teeth and clouds staring at you.


• Don't let someone else's goofy decisions fuck things up for you and your outlook on others. Pick up and move on; life is too short to waste on such poppycock.. you never know what's going to be around the corner.


• Just because it’s your favorite color doesn’t mean it looks good on the bedroom walls.


• When pounding a small circular piece of jewelry flat on a basement floor with a ball pein hammer, it gets very warm to the touch. Let it cool down, otherwise when you pick it up you throw it from the instant burning pain and lose it.


• After a few years off, I’m still a pretty dern good cook if I do say so myself. I was making dinner on a daily basis for quite a while this year and hope to get back into that groove in 2006. Just wish I had an oven whose numbers weren’t worn off of the knobs. Whenever I‘m baking, all I can set the oven to is 300-sumpin sumpin.


• In this day and age of computers, a person hardly ever writes by hand anymore. This year I realized that over the past few years my penmanship has gone from impeccable to sloppy as all shit; it's kindergarten level at best and sad thing is I don't even care or want to put any effort into fixing it.


• Contrary to popular belief, there is such thing as luck with finding incredibly awesome, dependable drummers.


• I still prefer giving over receiving. *cough*


• This year a few new Diet Coke varieties were put on shelves: Zero and with Splenda. Attn. Diet Coke: If it ain't broke, don't fix it, you fuckers. I could have spent that $2.18 I wasted on a bottle to try each of those on something else.


• Ears are for more than just hearing. I learned this year that if I didn't have them, I'd have nowhere to put my pencil when marking the walls for hanging up curtain rods (I don't stick it in my ear, I tuck it in between my head and upper left ear).


• Paying bills isn't as easy or rewarding as it sounds the day before payday.


• The more I move, the more stuff I throw out.


• The more I move, the more stuff I lose. I used to have, like, 3 tape measures. Now I use a piece of string.


• Having a full time job is awesome.


• Having a full time job really sucks.


• Ben Folds Five really needs to get back together. And the Stray Cats. And the Po-leese. Come on, Sting, you can do it. Same goes for every other trio that I love so. I likes me my trios. Speaking of, Melvins really need to come back to Grumpys. I miss that.


• There is someone really, really awesome out there with green eyelids.


• The MAC store on Lake and Hennepin in Uptown is a makeup store. I just thought what I saw in there were really small Macintosh computers and that the small tube I bought there was a portable data storage device (turns out it's just lipstick. And I lost the dang receipt!) I was wondering why they kept offering me a free makeover.


• On that note, I also learned that my suggested makeup colors are "autumnal".


• People can be wise beyond their years, but sometimes they're just wise beyond a few of those years.


• The first snowfall of the season no longer excites me and gives me warm fuzzies. This year it was more "Aaaaaa F*&K! Not that stuff again!"


• My ideal McDonalds feast is still a double cheeseburger and a bigass Diet Coke.


• The McDonalds in the Bloomington Wal-Mart sells the old school deep fried apple pies. NUMS! (Hush up, anti Wal-Mart whistleblowers and just let me enjoy my pie)


• Honesty is the best policy.


• Best Buy's electronics return policy is not the best policy.


• 2005 marked the end of late fees at Blockbuster Video. It also marked the inception of "restocking fees".. those clever bastards!


• Do not consign your band's CDs at Cheapo if you ever want to see those CDs again, or the profits from said CDs.


• Chances are if you have a notion that some shit is going down that you feel you need to be aware of, speak up - 'cause chances are that shit is goin' down alright, and then some.


• I've been using crayons for most of my life now and still am hoping that "next year" will be the year Crayola makes a clear crayon called Water. Clean Air would also suffice as a great name for such a "color", or lack thereof


• I learned last month that a large chockit shake at White Castle is large enough to feed a family of 5.


• This year I became an expert at picking up very hard to reach quarters with a stick and some duct tape.


• I work with somebody that likes to chew on pens. Maybe in the upcoming year I'll buy a bunch of pens, dip them in Nails No Bite and bring em to work.


• No matter how poor you are, it seems there's always money for important things like cigarettes, coffee and beer.


• I'm tempted to make a few good inside jabs at a person or three in this year-end thing who would not find it the least bit amusing, but don't really want to now because it's a waste of time, not worth my energy and I’m better than that. Okay, so maybe one or two slipped through the cracks and I suck. But it all made me what I yam today and I wouldn't change a thing.


• Don't leave butter to soften on a cast iron skillet, even if the stovetop seems cool. Otherwise you'll end up with a butter wrapper swimming in a pool of melted butter and a crazy ass mess to clean up. Also:


• Always keep some chicken on hand just in case you do leave butter in the skillet. With a little effort and 30 minutes, dinner will be ready. Also:


• If you're a vegetarian, keep some chicken on hand anyhow.. fried chicken smells really good.


• One of my resolutions for 2005 was to go to an open mic standup comedy thing and have at it with an unsuspecting audience that would likely have no idea what I was talking about. Maybe next year when I have enough money to pay for a laugh track to fill in the awkward silence.


• If you smoke and like to blow soap bubbles, next time you're around kids try blowing smoke into a bubble. It looks really cool and lets kids know that smoking looks cool and is fun. (that was a joke.. JOKE, people! I juss keeeedeeng!)


• I played my first official full set of solo acoustic music last January and things haven't let up since (thanks for the gig, Folkerts.. or Shannon.. or whomever put the bill together!)


• I sold a lot of my CDs, games and movies the first part of this year. I don't really miss them, but more often than not I find myself looking for a CD and wondering who the Hell stole it from me.


• Windex put out a MultiTask solution this year. At least that's the first I'd heard of it. It's a great product. I hope that next year they make such a thing that can also be used as a cooking spray. Cleaning stuff isn't really multi-task. Cleaning and cooking however? Mm Hmm.


• I realized this year that I'm a pretty smart dood. Example: Was chatting with someone the other day about popcorn. Turns out they hate popcorn. My response was "Maybe your problem is you're eating it unpopped?"


• Pressing CTRL Enter when writing an email in Outlook will send the message, even if you're not done. Good thing I wasn't writing a nasty email.


• If you wear stylish green moon boots, that means you are toadilly awesome.


• I really like salt. This year more so than other years.


• When walking into an elevator in which someone has just gassed, don't try and pry laughs out of your co-worker by talking about egg salad. It works, and it embarrasses the person responsible for the funk.


• When making small talk with your disabled blind neighbor who tells you she doesn't work anymore because of her disability, don't tell her she's "lucky"..


• Don't keep your spare keys in your apartment. You might have to break into your bathroom window to get them someday.


• Mixing cookie dough in a skillet isn't as good of an idea as it may sound.


• My dream of paying for things in gumballs isn't really the best idea.. gumballs aren't all that cheap.


• We Love Katamari is the best game ever.


• My job has taught me that many customers really are helpless eediots. No, really. Trust me. You have no idea.


• After all these years, I still get shit for eating pizza and donuts with a fork. My brother does this too so I know at least I’m not the only one..


• It’s really going to suck next year when I move out and have to paint my walls back to white.


• “Maybe the problem is that you’re just looking in the wrong place.”


• I still have a lot to learn,


• Such as how to properly swim.


• I’m always learning that many more of you read my blog thingies than I think, and that many of yas come back to read it on a regular basis. And that there are a lot of anonymous Meat Smoothie lurkers out there. I appreciate the fact that you stop by and it’s neat to know I’m apparently amusing someone other than myself here. Right? Right..? Is this thing still on?


• That said, a lot of people know a lot of ridiculous, useless shit about me. I guess that’s cool.


• If you complain a lot and think your life is going to shit, look at it this way: If you’re not stuck in a hospital bed with a life threatening disease, chances are your life isn’t all that bad. Your decisions or lack thereof likely put you where you are, and you need to quit your damned bitching and do sumpin about it.


• Holy shit, I’m a wordy sonofabitch. I think it’s time to wrap this up and call it a year.

2006 is gonna rule. I can tell already. I’ll leave you with a great safety tip to remember for your New Years Holiday: Have an absolutely fantastic time, but always remember after drinking too much to pass out face down instead of face up so that you don’t die choking on your own vomit. Not to mention - it keeps the dog busy cleaning up after you and there’s less chance that he’s going to hop up on the counter and eat the potato chips and hors douvres you left out from the party.

Ew, that was sorta gross.

Like, Air Smells and Stuff.

To those of you who knew I did smoke and to those who weren't even aware that I had started, I recently quit smoking! Yay! Here's that story. (Sorry to not mention anything here and make you cross-blog like that, but I'm an obsessive compulsive writer and can't always be on top of keeping these things synced up!)

Okay, so now that we have that out of the way:

I walked to the Hair Po-leese* last night to get a new can of goop with which to keep my lovely hairdo looking pleasantly frowsy and unkempt. Although easy to maintain, my lesbian hair can get out of hand if I don’t keep it under control with additional help.

One thing I dislike is when people refer to hair stuff as “product”. I knew it was coming when I brought the little expensive red canister to the counter, and sure enough: “Just some Product for you today?” I don’t know why this bugs me. In the hair salon world, it is used as a blanket term for stuff you put in your hair, kind of like Smurfs using Smurf for everything. Any one of the billion cans of stuff they have there will be referred to as product if you bring it to the counter, I gae-rone-tee it. It’s kinda like bringing a pack of gum to the checkout at the gas station and the clerk saying “Just some foodstuffs for you today?” Well, maybe it’s not. But you get my point.

Anywho: back to my story, or lack thereof. It’s about a mile and a half to the Hair Po-leese precinct and I realized that it’s a lot different walking a mile and a half now that I’m not sucking back on cancer sticks all the damn time. I thought I might break down, but nope – it was actually quite easy. And I’ll be damned – the air has a scent to it! You non-smokers prolly take this for granted, but I was amazed when a bus zoomed past me and I was able to smell bus exhaust. Pollution never smelled so good before. I pert near waved my hands in front of my face to take more of it in as if it were a fresh bouquet of flowers.

The rest of the air smells too! I was amazed that I could smell plain old air for the first time in a couple of years. I first noticed this during my lunch break and thought maybe there were just street cleaning vehicles out or something. But nope, that’s just how air smells. You forget that when you’re constantly inhaling through a small white tube crammed full of delicious dried toe-bacca leaves.

I got my hair goop and headed back home, walking an extended route up Lake and then down Hennepin to take in all of the new smells I’d been missing out on for the past 2 years. The Asian Buffet smelled horrifyingly greazy and sexy.. I wanted IN! Get this bitch some won tons! Every restaurant I walked past I was able to smell. Let me tell you, there’s some good smelling places in Uptown. My favorite Indian restaurant is now my even more favorite Indian restaurant. Reoooowlll…

It’s no wonder that smokers who quit are notorious for gaining weight; it’s because everything smells so fucking good. I’ll just settle for smelling food right now and hold off on the overweight thing for when I’m a washed up B celebrity. Then I can star on Celebrity Fit Club and everyone can gasp when I take my shirt off and show the panel of judges how I can hide 4 cans of Cherry Coke and a Pearson’s Salted Nut Roll under my flabby man boobs.

That’s gonna be sweet!

* = If you’re in need a spectacular hair reduction, hit up my homey Mackenzie at the Hair Po-leese – she rocks!

Me vs. the blue Dunn Bros. on Lyndale

My New Years resolution: To stop thinking I'm going to get a yummy mocha at the blue Dunn Bros. on Lyndale.

Is it possible to get a decent mocha there? Would it kill them? I've gone all hours of the day at least a half dozen times. Or maybe even a half baker's dozen times (once I forgot my money so didn't order anything).

Every time my mocha tastes the same no matter who makes it: watery, yet strangely intense coffee flavor with just enough chocolate to tease me and make me think it will get better. Yet it doesn't, really. Warm or iced, it's almost as if they put used grounds in a burlap bag, run it under hot water and wring it out into my cup rather than pulling a good shot of espresso. Or maybe they're just mixing that chocolate water Yoo-hoo stuff with the bottled Starbucks Frappuchino thingies.

I'm not one to bring my drink back and complain, that's just not my style. Usually it's not that bad.. it's drinkable at the very least. Granted I'm paying $3.50 for something that's over 99 percent water and should be getting my money's worth for that less-than 1 percent.. but after spending a few years behind the counter at a coffee shop, I don't want to be That Guy. I've had to deal with That Guy, and it can be really irritating. That Guy always comes back to the counter and bugs you at the wrong time. It's some unwritten code in customer service - that's just how it works.

I know they can do it - I've been to nearly every other Dunn Bros. in town and even played a few of them. All of the others have made phenomenal mochas (the one down on 50th and Xerxes makes a hella mean iced mocha, I must say). But. I have been to the blue one approximately six and a half times now, and that's, like, 20 sumpin dollars for 96 ounces of liquid that was mediocre at best.

Maybe it's time to say goodbye for now. Thanks for the memories, blue Dunn Bros. location. I'll try and end this relationship on a positive note: Hmm.. your staff was always very nice there. Yeah, that's good. Wait... I know:

Dear blue Dunn Bros.: You are the best blue coffee shop located under a movie rental store, hair salon, and next to a Quiznos that I've ever been to. I will gladly come back if you start making mochas that don’t taste like poo.

Sincerely,

Micycle.

I Heart Katamari.. a little too much

I was at a party over the summer and played this Playstation 2 game that was imported from Japan that I became instantly enamored with. I never got the name of it, nor did I know the girl whose house the party was at. Since then I’ve incessantly asked nearly every video gamer I know about it only to get strange looks and a shoulder shrug. Since then it’s been an Unsolved Mystery.

Enter: My homey Owen from SMB. Was chatting with him a few weeks ago and out of the blue he asked me if I’ve ever played Katamari. On PS2. Suddenly my brain jumped… “HEY! Is that the one where you roll a ball around and pick stuff up??!!” Sure enough, that was the game. And it turns out that it is readily available on American soil. Last night I broke down, went to Target, and picked up We Love Katamari for a mere $29. Hoooo-Leeee addicting, Bat Man. Very rarely do I get sucked into hours of video game nerd-ness like I did last night.

In Katamari, You are this teeny little dude with a head shaped like Rosie’s from The Jetsons and you roll around this sticky ball called a Katamari. It starts out very small, picking up things like coins, batteries, and crayons, but the bigger you get, the bigger things you can pick up on your Katamari, such as farm animals, giant lobsters, cars, houses.. and once you’re done, your Katamari is measured, thrown up into the cosmos and becomes a star or planet. Gee, makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?

Here's what it looks like when you're starting out with your Katamari:



And peep this - once you become a good enough roller, here’s what can happen:



WHOA. That's pretty fucked up, huh?!

It has everything I’ve ever wanted in a game: Incredibly addicting simplicity, a storyline that really makes no sense but does in some weird way, hilarious character dialogue which admits to that and makes no real sense as well, and some of the most interesting video game music I’ve ever heard (I’d actually buy I if it were on CD).

All I can do this morning is sit and daydream about rolling a ball around and having things stick to it. I’m not kidding you; it brainwashes you and suddenly you want to roll everything. Case and point: I’m looking at the orange I brought in to work today on my desk. Here is the first thing I thought when I took the orange out of my bag:

1. I will roll my orange over that pen and the pen will adhere to it.
2. I will then roll it over Josh’s pen and gather that too.
3. I will spill out some paper clips and roll over those.
4. Then I’ll roll over the 10 CDs I brought to work. Aw hell, and my headphones, too.
4. Next, I will hopefully be big enough to roll over and gather all of the telephones.
5. At that point my orange-a-mari will certainly be large enough to roll over the computer monitors and gather those as well.
6. See all of the office chairs? They’re next.
7. Then I’ll roll up the desks.
8. Then I’ll go outside with my orange-a-mari and roll up some trees, cars, buildings…

I have been sucked into this game - Big Time. I was up until 1AM playing the damned thing and I have a feeling I will be tonight as well. Please send help… I have no life as it is and fear that this will only make things worse. My skin will start to turn blue. My hair will get greasy. Oh no.

Well, it was nice knowing everybody. Say, if you see me rolling a giant ball down the street anytime soon, don’t run. Just stand there so I can roll you up and make you part of the biggest Katamari ever. It’s gonna be awesome.

An Anonymous Family Christmas Photo Journal

I think that I missed my calling as a professional photographer. You’re about to see what I mean, as I’d like to share with you a few of the great shots I snapped last night at the fambly Christmas Eve Dinner.

I don’t want to be the token guy with the camera at family events making people all self conscious and whatnot, so I attempted to take a subtle approach last night and just hold the camera up in midair when no one was looking, press the button, and hope for the best. This approach made for several great photos that captured the true essence of our holiday tradition.

I’m available for weddings and private parties and would be willing to cut you a mean deal because I’m new to the business, so if you want some sentimental out of center (and out of focus) shots of the backs of your loved one’s heads to cherish for years to come, you know where to find me. For an extra $20, I’ll print out and throw 12 of your favorites in a nice faux wood collage frame from Walgreens. I'll even let you pick out which ones you want in the oval cutouts and which ones you want in the rectangle cutouts in the brown paper matte that comes with the frame.

Without further ado, I present to you my Anonymous Family Christmas Photo Journal:


This is the kitchen, and a few of my fambly members over there on the right!


My Uncle John telling a story.



Uncle John and Mom smiling for the camera!



Oh Aunt Chris, you’ve always been so photogenic!



The fambly at the dinner table



Mom got a really big clock for Christmas.. Look at that surprised expression on her face!


Look at how cute Gramma looks in her new hat!


This is my parent’s dog Polly. Isn’t she cute?


My brother’s cat Argus. Look at that little face!


Here’s Grandma enjoying some pumpkin pie.


Sadly, it was getting late and Chris and John had to go. All good things must come to an end.


Bye Chris and John, have a safe drive home!

---

Well, I hope you enjoyed my Christmas photos. Happy Holidays to you all from Frank and I!

Streaming Swirly Noodles of AquaFresh

Look at what's happend to my toofpaste.



The photo probably doesn't clearly illustrate what's happening here, so allow me to explain: The toothpaste is not only sort of coming out of the top where it is supposed to, but a small noodle of it is squirming out of the side as well.

Sometimes I'm very lazy with things like putting twist ties back on bread bags, closing chip bags all the way, putting the lid securely back on cans of Pringles... you see what I'm sayin'. I guess you could say I have a problem closing stuff. At least it's stuff that doesn't need to be refrigerated.

Speaking of not closing stuff, another thing I don't do all that well is put the cap back on me tubes of toothpaste. I don't know why a 5 second job like that seems so tedious, but it is for me, at least. Not only does my toothpaste lose its freshness and no longer taste good on crackers, but my cat Frank has a plastic lid/cap fetish. If I leave a cap out in the open, say on the bathroom sink, for example, it's fair game for Frank. Within minutes he finds and takes it, bats it around on the floor, and eventually it disappears.

This is what happened with my toothpaste and it has been lid-less for a good week or so now. Every night I have to pull a toothpaste plug out of the tube in order for the product to properly dispense.

Last night I was feeling extra lazy so in lieu of doing a plug-ectomy, I gave her a good hard squeeze (as you can see in the pic by the white knuckle stranglehold I had to bestow upon it). The plug remained tightly lodged in the tube. However, the pressure of my brute strength eventually took its toll and a noodle of toothpaste started oozing out the side of the tube. Eew. It took me like 30 seconds to get a decent serving applied to my toothbrush and my hand was shaking all the while.

So now I've got a bigass mess on my hands every time I brush my teeth. I could maybe put a cork in the top of the tube. Or I could just get two toothbrushes and try and align it so that when the paste is dispensed in stereo like that, it doesn't go to waste. I'd have to brush my teeth twice, but it beats seeing perfectly good Maximum Strength AquaFresh Sensitive Formula go to waste like that.

Next time I'm spending the extra fitty nine cent and getting one of those pumps that claims to be mess-free.

That's all I've got for you today. I hope everyone has a great weekend. May the bearded fat man dressed in a furry red suit provide you with many fine presents. I'm not talking about Uncle Louie who works as a mascot at the local sports arena and drinks his paycheck away at the beer stand... I'm talkin' bout Sandy Claws, y'all! Merry f#$kin' Christmas! If you don’t celebrate Christmas, then Merry All The Stores Will Be Closed on Suday to you and yours.

Giving the gift of a Finnegan mp3

Instead of wasting time writing a lengthy journal entry, I picked up my acoustic geetar and slapped down a new tune today. It is my latest acoustic composition of many that have surfaced this year entitled The Dog Seed Shuffle and I posted it here for all of you to consume. For those of you not familiar with the usual deal, I also post the liner notes to the songs in the blawg section of that page - so that's are in there too.

Sheesh! I'm just Mr. Give Give Give, aren't I?!

Happy Everything to you all.

Christmas came a lil early this year.

My Dear Friends,

Boy have I got a gift story to share with you that will make you green with envy. This will make your silly little iPods, iShuffles, i'M-brokes, XBox360s, PS2s, and whatever else is on your list suddenly seem about as fun as a "stick in the eye", as my Pops would say. So forget all of that stuff - after you read this it will all be good as dead to you.

I went to my nephew's high school band concert last night and my Mom gave me a little sumpin' early for the Holidays while we were waiting for the show to start. I guess she had already given one to each of my sister's kids and I was next on the hit list. Brother Chuck, if you're reading this I know you're in Cleveland and am sorry I might be spoiling this for you. But you'll be home in a few days and I'll share mine if mom forgot about you.

All right. Peep this badass if you will:


What is a Fifteen Puzzle, you say? Well let me take it out of its protective carrying case and show you:



Mmmm hmmm. That's what I'm talking about. I'm still working on solving it as you can probably see. For those of you wondering what the hell this is, you have to slide the numbers around until they're in order like this:

1 2 3 4
5 6 7 8
9 10 11 12
13 14 15

There's no batteries to worry about as mom pointed out, and it's portable. I'm making a belt clip for mine so I can always have it on the go.

Mom sure knows how to torture me, 'cause she gave it to me just minutes before the show started and I was so excited, but then had to put it away for 2 hours while the bands played. 5 minutes of Fifteen Puzzle is not enough. Just as the frenzy began, it had to end. What a tease, I tell you. It's all I could think about during the show: Sliding those numbers around to restore order and peace to my Fifteen Puzzle.

During intermission, Mom whipped another Fifteen Puzzle out of her blue jean purse and presented it to my sister who I'm sure until that point felt a little neglected. She ripped the box open and incessantly started sliding those tiles around as if her life until that point was meaningless and she had suddenly discovered that is what she was born to do.

About 2/3 of the way through during a quiet passage I whispered to my Mom that I hoped the band would be wrapping their little show up soon, 'cause I've got a Fifteen Puzzle to solve. She laughed, but if she looked deep into my eyes she would have seen that homey wasn't playin'.

My name is Micycle and I am a Fifteen Puzzle-aholic. I have yet to solve it and experience the fulfillment and sense of completion that comes with that, but it will happen. I was up until 2:30am working on it and combing the internet for hints and clues (which there are none of).

A Christmas Eve Challenge has been initiated as a result of this. Everyone has been ordered to bring their Fifteen Puzzles to the family dinner on Saturday and we're gonna have Fifteen Puzzle Championships. Mom will hit the bell and all that will be heard is 450 tiles sliding around until the first person yells "DONE!" and holds their hands up in the air so everyone knows they're not still working on it and cheating.

I've got to go now and practice my moves for Saturday. I want to be so good at this that I can have 4 fingers sliding tiles at once. Everyone's gonna be jealous of my phat Fifteen Puzzle skills. "You want that 9 down there by the 10? Pssshh. That's so cinchy; I can do it in 4 slides. Hand it over."

If the Christmas Eve Championships go well, I'm taking this to a national level. So get yours now and start practicing your moves before the pandemonium ensues and store shelves are empty. I'll take on any of you and leave you in a trail of Fifteen Puzzle dust so fast you won't even know what happened to you.

Matter of fact, I'm getting another one and placing one on each side of my belt so I can whip em out lefty and righty style like Yosemite Sam and do two at once.

Yeah, that's what I’m sayin’. Just you wait and see, Motherf*&ers; this dawg is out to cap some Fifteen Puzzle ay-uss and he ain’t gonna stop until he’s done. Yeah, that's what I said. Just you wait and see. The Grand Fifteen Puzzle Champion will get one round trip plane ticket to Minneapplesauce, and that winner will be me. But you're already here in Minneapplesauce, you say. Yes.. you are correct. But seeing that I will kick so much ass, the airways will bow unto my mighty Official Fifteen Puzzle-solving shoes (the Vans), and bestow upon me the option to donate that plane ticket to someone who could put it to good use.

(p.s. - Thanks Mom)

If only phones were made out of chicken..

Was at Papa Johns the other day picking up dinner because I like authentic Italian cuisine just as much as anyone else every once in a while.

I always notice when I go there that everything behind the counter has a light layer of flour on it because that's what happens when you make pizza dough. It's a messy procedure. The phones, the cash register, every pen in sight - everything has flour on it and looks like a ghost version of what it really is. My, I thought, they sure must clean up a lot of flour here. If you've ever tried cleaning flour up, you know that it's a pretty tedious task to take on. A wet sponge just sort of turns it into a sticky paste that likes to adhere to whatever surface you're cleaning it off of.

Being an avid homemade fried chicken chef and enthusiast, that's the first thing all of the flour-dusted apparatuses in Papa John's reminded me of: twas as if everything there been dipped in an egg wash and then some flour in preparation to be deep fried.

Being a curious little monkey, I asked the dude behind the counter how they control the flour problem and he said they have to wipe it down at the end of the day and no one likes doing it because it's such a pain in the ass. I hear you, brother.

It's too bad they have to do that at the end of the night. I was thinking that if the phones and cash registers were made out of chicken, they could just deep fry it instead and have a nice meal. So long as they remember to take a new phone and cash register out of the freezer to thaw for the next day's business.

Now you can be taller too!

I was on the way to Home Depot to get the final gallon of paint for my place to ensure that the only white things left in it are the ceiling and myself. Was cranking one of the best talk shows ever (The Mischke Broadcast) on the "optional AM radio" as it says in the Pinto's owners manual when a mock advertisement came on for a product called Height Max. "Ah that silly Mischke," I thought to myself. "Always goofing around.."

The ad went on and on about how you take these pills so you can be taller, how it really works, is all natural, a revolutionary product, blah blah blah. I waited with a smirk on my face for the punch line at the end of the spot, yet there was none. Just a phone number and stores where you can buy it.

It turns out this is a real thing, with a really clever and intuitive name, might I add. You can now evidently take pills to grow taller. Is this what the world is coming to? No cure for the common cold, there's people that don't know how to read out there, research that needs to be done on cancer, MS, and a billion other things, yet some group of people in lab coats standing over Bunsen burners, Erlenmeyer flasks and beakers full of green bubbly liquid have found a cure for people who want to be taller?

They come with a 30 day money back guarantee, too. That's sort of scary. You take pills and can simply grow taller in less than a few weeks? Doesn't that sound sort of... weird? People, if you're sad that everyone's taller than you, there's a less expensive and more fashionable way to go about this. And there's no waiting for results, as you see them immediately. Talk to this guy:



See? He's got it all figured out: the boots, and ultra strong cable to hoist his old, flabby 300 pound frame up above everybody else that's around him so he can feel more confident and secure in himself.

And what if an already tall person such as this guy took these Height Max pills? Would he just grow even taller or would his body just freak out not knowing what to do with itself? If the latter of the two is the result, he could very well end up looking like Joey Ramone. Don't do it, Pete.

What if the pills got lost on the way down the hatch and instead of making you taller made you grow horizontally? Where exactly does the height grow at? Do your feet get thicker? Legs longer? Cranium grow more on the top? When you stop taking the pills, do you shrink back to your original condition? I want answers.

If they can do this, I want to see pills that make people shorter. I want pills that make my hair grow slightly in reverse so I can take pills instead of getting haircuts. Hows about pills that assist you in finding your car keys when you lose them at the Uptown? Or pills that makes water taste like chocolate milk..

I don't know why I found it to be so surprising that there is now a pill out there that allegedly makes you taller, but lo and behold.. just when you think you've heard it all, pow! Now you can be taller too!

Have you heard, about the bird, a ba ba bird bird bird..

Please kill me.

I've had the song Surfin Bird in my head for the last 24 hours and it's starting to drive me a little nuts here. Whenever I have a song stuck in my head like this I usually treat it by listening to the song a few times and it goes away.

Yesterday I brought both versions I have to work to listen to in my headphones and try to ease the pain: The original by Minnesota's own "The Trashmen" as well as the Ramones rendition of it (one of the best covers of all time in this fella's opinion).. a billion listens and 24 hours later, I thought it was done.

I was downing a bowl of cereal this morning and suddenly my brain started going like this: bopbopbopbopbopbopbop M-ma-maw maw, boppa m maaw ma maaw bopbopbop m ma maw maw, boppa m maaw ma maaw..

Please. Make it stop. I love this song and all, but it even happened when I was walking into work. I need a break from this.

I always get a little worried when this happens, as I always think of the news story I once read where this guy had the Yes song Owner of a Lonely Heart in his head. Not for a few days - this went on for years and he seriously went nuts. It got to the point where he went in for a lobotomy to silence it. No kidding! I can understand why.. that's not the best Yes song to have in your head. I bet if it was Long Distance Runaround he wouldn't have needed a lobotomy at all.

So here I sit with Surfin Bird still in my head, and I didn't bring those CDs today because I thought I had won the war. There's a paper clip and blue pen on my desk.. I'm wondering if I could take those up to the men's room where there's a decent sized mirror and some sinks with soap dispensers. The perfect envoronment in which to perform some sort of self-lobotomy. Sadly there's no baby changing station table in there, but I reckon this will be a relatively quick procedure and I hopefully won't need to lay down.

Providing I remember how to operate the elevator to get to the men's room, lettuce hope the operation is a success. Bye bye!

bopbopbopbopbopbopbop M-ma-maw maw, boppa m maaw ma maaw bopbopbop m ma maw maw, boppa m maaw ma maaw..

In other wandering mind news:

I'm watching the Bobcat snowplow thing outside the window here at work clear the new 2 foot layer of snow off of the sidewalk. While everyone else is staring and saying "OOH, it's so pretty!" my imagination is stirring something fierce:

The plow is going hella slow, ‘cause it's a sidewalk and there's not much room to work with. I'm keeping my eye on the pile that's slowly accumulating in front of the plow shovel. It seems to be struggling a bit with the giant pile before it and I think I know why. We've got the occasional transient around here and I got to thinking: It would be mighty interesting if once he crammed that pile into the designated giant pile of snow area of the side of the building if he backed up and you saw the form of a frozen human embedded into the side.

If that's the case, I will take the person home, thaw him or her out, and throw him/her in with the monkeys at the zoo. I will wear a lab coat and study his or her behavior, maybe even eventually befriending him or her like Timothy Hutton did in that one movie Iceman. That would kick so much ass it's not even funny!

Gee wiz, I'm pretty dorky sometimes.

I got in the elevator at work today and the door closed. I stood there for a good minute or two waiting to get off on the next floor up and the doors never opened - it dawned on me that perhaps I was locked in.

Panic ensued. I could see light through the crevice in the middle of the closed elevator door but wasn't sure what to do. A simple trip to the restroom upstairs had now turned into a caper. An adventure. A pickle.

Great.

I stood there for a few more seconds and looked up at the ceiling for a trap door. I looked at the buttons on the elevator panel, focusing long and hard at the red one that people often dread the thought of ever having to use. “Hm.. do I wait a few minutes more or push this thing?” I thought to myself.

As I was studying the red panic button, I came to realize that none of the floor numbers were lit up and that perhaps it would help if I pressed one of them to tell the elevator it needed to go somewhere. An instant sigh of relief washed over me. I pressed the "2" button and sure as shit, up it went and the door opened just seconds later.

Gee, crazy how those elevator things work, huh?

Cat reading

I've taken up a new hobby. I can hold a cat up to my head (my cat Frank at least) and tell what he ate for dinner. See?
My guess: some Science Diet adult formula. And. Wait... I sense something else.. it's... it's..

Ah HA. The last piece of Italian Sassidge I had saved from my bowl of pasta. That's my favorite part and I always save one hunk for last. I can't send a noodle down the hatch as last bite, it's so... unsatisfying. But it looks as if that's going to be the case tonight. FRANK.

Some would say I can't read a cat's stomach at all and it's just the fact that my bowl was empty when I returned to it and he was the only one here. There's always going to be some skeptics out there. To those people: don't come bitching to me to solve your food-related crimes when stuff is missing from your plates. Nope. You're on your own, buddy.

Richard Pryor and the smell of a new VCR

When I was a wee pup around the age of 6 or 7, I began to crave off the wall humor almost as much as I daydreamed about being Gene Simmons and making out with girls. Waaaaaaaaay back then, before Al Gore had invented the internet *ahem*, you couldn't just go look something up or check your email to get a good laugh. I always ended up hanging out in my bedroom for hours on end like a little mountain man to draw pictures, listen to records, play with the tape recorder and create my own comedy to amuse myself. You know, now that I think of it things haven't changed much, it's just nowadays I have to pay for my bedroom, there's other rooms attached to it that are mine as well, and I have to go to work to pay for it all.

I would always struggle to stay awake for Carson and then Letterman to air and hope against hope that someone funny would be on. And there was always good 'ol Saturday Night Live which was like crack for me, but that was only once a week. Fridays was another great show, but all too short lived.

One day pops came home with a newfangled device called a Video Cassette Recorder. It was the most amazing thing I'd seen since he'd brought home our first microwave ("lookit that, you can make a hot dog in 45 seconds!")

He removed the VCR from the box and took the Styrofoam braces off the sides. It weighed about 300 pounds and was the size of a small car. I can still smell that new VCR smell to this day.. Occasionally I smell an alarm clock or TV remote that has that same nice smell to it. Yeah, I like to sniff home electronics (new TV or stereo remote controls in particular). It might sound weird, but try it sometime. It’s really quite invigorating.

I digress. Let’s get back to the VCR. Which by the way was a top loader and had a "remote", which was a small calculator with a 50 foot long cord hanging out of it that you had to plug into the face of the VCR. There was a 1 second lag whenever you pressed a button on it telling the VCR to do something. It was the best thing EVER. I was amazed that I could watch Star Wars and then watch it again without buying another ticket. And boy, did I, along with The Jerk. Over. And over. And OVER. AND OVER. (insert Pee Wee Herman here hysterically yelling "aaand knitting! aaaaaand knitting!! ANND KNITTING!!")

One morning I walked into the living room and Dad was konked out on the couch watching a movie with "the Willy Wonka guy" in it. It was weird, because Willy Wonka was in a prison and with a very funny dude who I later learned was Richard Pryor. I was laughing my arse off and caught the last 15 minutes of the movie. Pops was still sleeping, so I rewound it and watched it from the start and was instantly in love with Stir Crazy.

At that point, Richard Pryor was the funniest guy I had seen since Steve Martin. After Stir Crazy, I immediately needed more Richard Pryor input. Next time we went to Astro Video to return Stir Crazy, I checked every last movie box for his face in hopes of watching more of his tomfoolery and thankfully found Silver Streak (another awesome Pryor/Gene Wilder movie) and The Toy. And one of my other all time favorites to this day, Brewster's Millions. He was a fuckin' goofball and I took in every second of it hoping I would grow up someday to be a funny black dude like him. Turns out that I do in fact tan quite well in the summer, but that's about as far as I ever got in that department. Thankfully I eventually saw the light in C. Thomas Howell's captivating performance in Soul Man and realized that I just needed to deal with and appreciate what I was born with.

So anyways.. I learned over the weekend that Richard Pryor checked out of life on this planet due to a heart attack. Major bummer. It's weird how memories come back when someone famous you grew up watching dies - when I read that in the paper I could smell the old TV remote again and instantly thought of watching the end Stir Crazy that Saturday morning while Pops was sawing logs.

Weird thing is I've never watched Pryor's standup comedy. That's pretty much like saying "OOoooh I love Wings, but never really listened to the Beatles before!" But mebbe it's time to track some of that stuff down and see the other side of Richard Pryor that I never saw as a kid.. there's that famous story of how he was so hopped up on goofballs once that he set himself on fire and almost died. And what did he do? Came back and worked the story into his standup routine. If he could pull that off, yeah, that’s pretty fuckin’ funny if you axsk me.

Rest In Peas, Richard Pryor! Thanks for all of the laughs. I will watch Brewsters Millions tonight in your honor. That's a much easier tribute than what I originally was thinking about doing.. but I figure I'll save the setting myself on fire bit for a more apropos moment, such as the next time they get my order wrong at Mac-Donalds.

Does anyone know if these are Stool Pigeons?

Cause Jesus H., they're definitely living up to their name if they indeed are:

Yeah, I know, that's pretty fuckin' gnarly (this is on the tip top of my apartment building. Looks like Mr. Caretaker needs to invest in a chisel..)

Slight paper towel holder misunderstanding

Since I've moved into my place, I've had the darndest time with the paper towel roll holder that was here when I moved in. It's wooden and pretty big which leads me to guess it's from the turn of the century. The 20th century, that is. Not the 21st. They had paper towels back then, right? I mean, that orange haired Viva paper towel lady on the commercials was pretty old when I was a kid.

It works fine and all once the paper towel roll is on there, it's just getting it to that point that has been the hard part. Every time the roll empties, I've had to get out my screwdriver, remove four screws, take the empty roll off, put a new one on, and do a balancing act while putting it all back together. It takes about 10 minutes every time. It's very convenient to have, don't get me wrong, but sheesh. You'd think it would be a little easier to stock.

Not to mention it's, like, 2 times the width of a roll of paper towels. And it's installed in the weirdest place: the bathroom wall. You'd think they would have put it in the kitchen or something.

Um... Wait. I've never been able to figure out where to hang my bathroom towels and something just dawned on me. Let me go take a look at that again; hold on a sec.

* * * * *

Okay, I'm back. Yeah, never mind. I knew what that was for all along. Yeeeeeeeeeeeah. I was just testing you to see if you'd say anything.

Hm. And now that I think of it, I guess that thing in my kitchen isn't a paper owl holder. That's what I thought mom said when she gave it to me and I was like "Aw shit, I've got some mad origami skills, but I can't be making no paper owl. And how is it supposed to sit on a vertical perch, anyways?" So it's sat there empty all this time.. and my bath towels have been hanging on doorknobs and thrown on the floor.

Sheeit. I need to pay closer attention to stuff.

Nun scents

Don't mind me, I'm just going stir crazy (good movie) at the 39 hour and 38 minute mark of my 40 hour work week. You might want to skip this post altogether if you know what's good for you. If you want coherence and reason, just move right along, there's nothing to see here.

This has been the longest. Workday. EVER. This whole week as a matter of fact has dragged like a... like something that drags a lot.

20 minutes to go. It's Friday. Sounds like a perfect opportunity to type some absolute jibberish if you ask me. Here goes.

I went down to the corridor the other night to bombastically display the church as it was, you have no idea of what kind of banjos they play, he said, only after the key was stuck and it kept making spaces.

Howard came over in spirit, drinking a 7up and mentioned that he had just shaven his head. I had a cap on, and it floated to the top of the sky like a weary sailboat, and the hot dog man just stood there with his buddy not knowing exactly what to say.

If there's nothing more than CDs, than hell, I understand. But don't come over to me saying how many of your crayons don't add up. That's just fine if that's the way it is, but I'll be damned. It's a red plastic ring about the size of a piece of bologna. Bologna gets convex when you fry it up, it looks like a big pink contact lens.

I love the way the spring smells in the summertime. Such brilliance in the sun, like a dirty glass of water with a fish in it. The current capture rate as known is deteriorating. However, due to current logistics, the wheel continues to look like a Triscuit.

I have none of the above, but only a number 2 pencil with which to spread the grape jelly on my toast. I had too much toast last night and it made me want to read the newspaper. All I could find was a paper towel so I read that instead, it didn't take me very long.

So it's 3:23 right now and I learned that someone doesn't like onions in the sammiches. I would have to agree, nothing worse than eating the plate and finding a leaf underneath it. Snowed in benches need to stretch their legs too, but I need to go get cash after here so I can pay for parking,

Do you like my hat? No I do not like your hat. Good bye.

The Dripping Noise

I just woke up to a strange dripping noise coming from the corner of my bedroom wall and now I can't sleep; I have dripping noise insomnia. My first thought was that it might be blood, but no - that would have been last week. I've got radiator heat in this place and it turns out that one of the pipes next to the wall is leaking.

Hey...

Who let you in here? Get out of my bedroom! Just because you're reading my blogs doesn't mean you can poke around in my bedroom like this. Hey you! Stop looking at my socks. Yeah, I'm too lazy to put my clean laundry away. So kill me. And you. You put that down, now... that's not even mine. It's not like I have anywhere I would put something like that. Ish. You're gonna want to wash your hands, FYI.

All right, everyone out of my room. I have to work tomorrow. What the f#$k do you think this is, your own personal place to come and hang out?

Jeez, the nerve of you people. Get back, Honky Cats.

Grampa's weird Ear Doo-dad

I'm at work and so tired right now it's not even funny. I will stare at my computer monitor and suddenly there's two of them and they get all blurry. Then they start floating up and down slightly and towards each other.

I'm not sure how many times this has happened this morning, but I can tell you this, my friend: it has happened too much. And every time it does, once I snap out of it I wonder how long I've been sitting there staring like that. Seconds? Minutes? I always look at the clock to try and get a rough estimate, but then realize you have to know what time you started dozing off in order to do the math and figure out how long you've actually been out.

I went on a lot of road trips in the Pinto with my Grampa Freeman when I was a wee lad. When he wasn't busy playing his harmonica, singing along with Slim Whitman on the AM radio or explaining the ways of the world to me, he'd put this little device in his ear. It looked sort of like a hearing aid and I always wondered what it was - so one day I finally asked him.

"What's that white thing you put on your ear?" I said while studying his profile and looking at his ear with that big white thing on it poking above his blue baseball cap.

"It's an alarm. If I start falling asleep and my head goes like this," he said while bobbing his head down as I heard a faint buzzzzzz go off, "it buzzes and wakes me up so I don't drive off the road."

"Huh," I said and put my headphones back on. I remember we were on our way back from the cabin and Herbie Hancock's Earth Beat was cranking through my Walkman. I had the "bass" switch set to on and it was making my headphones break up a little. I was hungry for some Doritos and my clothes smelled of Grampa Cabin: a cross between fireplace, pork, salt, and mothballs.

This ear thing made me feel a little uneasy. My little 11 year old life was depending on a teeny little device that emitted a faint buzz if Gramps nodded off. And who knows where the Hell he got that from – most likely Sears Surplus or some other outlet store. So who knows how well it worked if at all. "What if his head doesn't bob when he dozes off?" I wondered. "Gramps always asks me to speak up and is a little hard of hearing... what if he doesn't hear the buzzer?"

For the rest of that trip, every time the car swerved ever so slightly from the wind I crapped my pants in terror thinking he was dozing off and the alarm wasn't working.

Thankfully I never did hear that buzz other than the one time he demonstrated it for me, nor did we ever crash. I'm particularly thankful I never saw him put that thing on his ear before taking me out for rides to St. Paul on his motorcycle. If he ever did that, he may as well just loosen all of the bolts holding the seat on as well to convince me that I was going to die.

I always think of that ear alarm when I'm tired and stoopid like this. That is one thing I looked for in the Pinto when I first drove it to see if he left it in there.. that and the harmonica.

Technology has evolved some since then and I think it's time they invent a bigger and better version of that anti-sleep contraption. Put it in a pair of glasses. The lenses would detect when your eyelids start to close and you go cock-eyed, and then shoot a brief zap of electricity into your eyeballs to snap your muthafuckin' ass out of the tired zone once and for all. I reckon this could probably be done with a 9 volt battery, some wires, and a few other parts from Radio Shack.

Believe you me, if I were sitting here right now knowing that I was at risk of having my lovely blue eyes stung with an electric current if they became all lazy and googly on me, hells if I would be dozing off at the monitor like this anytime soon.

Happy Burpday to Mom!

It's my Mom's burpday today. She was born on this day a few years ago, and YAY FOR THAT! If she wasn’t ever born, I wouldn’t be sitting here typing this because if someone is not born, that means they are non-existent. And that means they can’t have kids. Gee, that sure would suck if I hadn’t been born. I wonder if not being born hurts?

So anyways, being one with the coolest Mom in the world is an easy job to have. She is very silly. She is an amazingly gifted cook and baker. She baby sits Frank. She's like Martha Stewart except she has a bent sense of humor, is nice to people, and hasn't tried running my Dad over in an SUV (prolly because they don't have an SUV). She is the master of the homemade mocha. Exhibit A: Peep this masterpiece she made me last time I was over, y'all.



The extravagant whooped cream application you see here is standard issue. And might I add, the whooped cream is homemade. If she had time, she'd probably make the cup, too. The Mom Mochas, (chocolate mochas as they’re called.. hehe) always overfloweth - usually there's so much whooped cream piled on that you have to bend over and sip it from the place where she first set it down, lest you want to pick it up and dribble it all over the damn place.

More often than not, she'll send me home with a grab bag of sorts.. the contents of which are always immensely appreciated albeit perplexing at times. Exhibit B: Sunday I went home with a bag which contained the following:

1 container of homemade chow mein
1 container of rice
1 wee Rubbermaid container of soy sauce
1 full bag of chow mein noodles
1 half bag of Sun Chips
several slices of poppyseed bread
a few punkin cookies

Last but not least, this was the capper:

1 brick of Velveeta.

She also tried to throw a pound of butter in there (not kidding) but I declined, as I still have 3 sticks to go through at home. How much does that rule?! Yep, my Mom is awesome. Many of my friends over the years have had Mom envy, and you can certainly see why. It's a good feeling to know that if there's ever a shortage of butter or Velveeta, my ass is covered. I know where to go.

So thanks for all the help and generosity this year, Maw. You and Pops have gone above and beyond to help me out and I hope that I can return the favor someday.

Happy Freakin' Burpday! I hope you get lots of presents. I know; having a son like me is the best present of all. But I’m talking more about other presents, such as merchandise from store shelves that is cleverly disguised in festive wrapping paper and given to you to rip open and enjoy.

Word to my Mutha.

What is it they say again?

"Absinthe makes the heart go wander?"

Oh don't mind me. Seconds ago I had this whole train of thought attached to that idea, but lost it because I'm listening to T-Ride and their music distracted me because it's so damned good. It's like I just gave you the punch line to a good joke without the rest of the joke. Huh.

I don't even know why I'm posting this. But I'm gonna anyways. Why? Because it's my fuckin' blog, man. You wanna start some shit with me? HA?

I'll come back if I remember what this was gonna be all about. If not, sorry... You're on your own.

Back from the New York Groooove

AAAAH JEEZ. I'm back in Minneapplesauce after one of the most surreal weekends I think I've ever had. For those of you who dropped me a note axking how it went, alls I can say is hell yes.

I am pretty much at a complete lack of words and description of the weekend and the events that transpired other than that. For me to have a lack of words is a rare thing as many of you may know. But at the end of the trip at the airport, I found myself wanting to kick my own ass because I wasn’t ready to leave yet. At least not without a couple of souvenirs that sadly would not fit into my suitcase. Well, maybe one of them would, I guess. But there aren’t any airholes in my luggage and they could very well suffocate during transit… that’s the last thing I’d want to happen.

I was in extremely rare form during my adventure: that being nervous. But I technically didn’t know I was, because my body manifests nervousness in fucked up subliminal kinds of ways. Example: I can play a show in front of a large crowd (it has happened a few times believe it or not) and feel 200 percent at ease in my mind and say whatever far fetched thing comes to mind to the audience. But then I look down and realize I’m sweating like a madman. So yeah, nerves were subconsciously running amok like that for the most part, but that’s just part of being a human being, I reckon.

It was well worth the trip though, let me tell you. Great story to tell the grandkids when I'm old and sipping on my chocolate malt flavored Ensure, dribbling it down my scruffy chin and onto my powder blue leisure suit all the while:

Grandkids: "Grampa - tell us about that one time you went to New York!"
Grampa Micycle: "Well it was a night just like tonight.."
looking out the window off into the distance
Grandkids: "GRAMPA! TELL US THE NEW YORK STORY!"
Grampa Micycle: "Well, it was a cold night..."
looking out window again into the distance
Grampa Micycle's noggin: *thud*
Grandkids: "Grammmmmmmmpaaaaaaaa!! Wake up and tell us about
New York! Come on!"
Grampa Micycle: "All right, all right. Gather around now. Does everyone have an adequate supply of candy?"
Grandkids: "YESS!"
Grampa Micycle: "I don't believe you. Let me see your hands and hear you scream CANDY!"

I pan over kid's hands covered with chocolate smudges and full of candy and am deafened by candy scream request. I'll wince a little, because usually old people's ears and little kids screaming don't mix very well, or so I hear.

I then cross my left leg over the other and get situated. I reach into my pocket...

Grampa Micycle: "Okay. First, here's some individually wrapped moist towelettes for you to use. Your hands are filthy. These will not only clean them off, but make your hands smell like Fruit Loops as well.”

"So anyways. It was a cold, cold night. Just like tonight.."

=======

And then? Out the movie camera zooms. What follows is a touching 2 hour Hallmark made for tee vee movie starring Johnny Depp's kid as a young me walking into the Minneapplesauce/St. Paul aero plane terminal. Ace Frehley’s New York Groove
kicks in as the soundtrack and I’ve got my brown suitcase and green backpack in tow.

Yep, it was a real good time, it was. That’s alls I can say fo now, ‘cause I need me some coffee big time.

p.s. – FYI, I’m getting me a shovel, digging up Wisconsin, Michigan, and all those stupid big lakes, putting NY on a trailer, and sliding it over to the left a thousand miles or so. Anyone want to help?