They also play that Army CSI show sometimes too

Hi.

We don’t go out anymore. Or do things. If you want to see us you have to come look through the basement window because we’re down there with the geckos and poison mold spores watching TV with the volume off and the vacuum turned on. But we aren’t vacuuming. It’s just running.

So all we know anything about is television shows and things that happen between television shows. And then we complain about them to each other.

For instance, American Express is a fine company that screws small businesses but their rewards program has resulted in free airline tickets to London and a new camera. But their recent batch of commercials is especially deceitful. In one, Tina Turner talks about her successes, her talent and her Amex card. Specifically, “Everything was there, I just needed my freedom. And I got it.” Then a graphic hardens over concert video indicating that Tina’s been a member since 1977.

The implication here is that Tina’s ability to postpone paying for goods and services by procuring a short term loans that can be paid off monthly with varying degrees of interest set her free. Specifically, in 1977. I assume the part of the interview where she discussed fleeing from a highly physically and emotionally abusive husband in 1976 before going into hiding for several months ended up getting cut from the ad. Fortunately, she received her card in the mail and it finally gained her freedom.

More importantly, though, is the part of the commercial that features Dave Matthews. One of the rewards/punishments of being trapped in the basement is the constant airing of House on USA. Have you seen the one where DM plays and idiot savant piano player and CIA Director Kurtwood Smith is his dad? I’ve seen in twice in 3 days because my life has reached its apex. In the end, House forces Dave to get the brain surgery that takes away his Shiney McShine piano abilities but he can now button shirt like a real live boy. It’s the classic feel good story of 2008 and proves once again that everything relating to Charlottesville is mentally retarded.

We drove into the drive-in and she didn't have to pay because we dressed her up to look just like a Chevrolet

Recent testing has determined that two out of the three members of the Pyggy household find "Your Mama So Fat..." jokes incredibly funny. One member likes telling them. One smiles and giggles hysterically at hearing them.

The third member, however, does not see the humor. The others feel she is too sensitive.

I Got The Teeth of Teh Hydra Upon Me

(Usually, when I ask someone if they’ve seen an article in from the Post they ask to be sent the URL address. A “hyperlink” if you will. This makes me curse because I’m 900 years old and still read the analogue newspaper. Plus, the Post’s search page has been complete rubbish as of late and I couldn’t even find the page if I wanted to. It will tell that your query has resulted in X number of hits but it won’t show what they are. It’s pretty worthless. It’s also why this post is almost two weeks old.)

The paper’s Kid’s Post section often pits their intended readers with the parents of those readers. That leaves me somewhere in the middle, since I don’t play Lego based video games and my 401k is doing pretty well considering I’m too young to really have that much money in it, anyways. The article form December 10th was no different.

In it, the authors attempt to mediate the daily car-trip argument between the front and back seats about what to listen to on the radio. This came as a surprise for I assumed that today’s child travled with entertainment systems built into the back of their parent’s seats and heads. But this article was aimed at those poor hobo children who are forced to listen to cassettes of Alabama’s greatest hits. Like me. Also, who the fuck is Paramore?

Check out the crappy picture I had to take because the Post is garbage and doesn’t put their most obviously internet friendly section online.



See. A good Kids Post section would have links to the songs. Hell, a good Kids Post section would even have the article online.

1. Miley Cyrus’ “See you Again” versus The Pretenders’ “Message of Love”
2. Maroon 5, “Make Me Wonder” versus Steve Miller, ”Abracadabra”
3. Kate Perry, “I Kissed a Girl” versus Blondie “One Way or Another”
4. Jonas Brothers, “Burnin’ Up” versus T. Rex, “Bang a Gong”
5. Paramore, “Misery Business” versus The Clash, “Should I Stay or Should I Go”
6. Fall Out Boy, “This Ain’t No Arms Race…” versus The Ramones “Rockaway Beach”

Before I heard any of these new songs, I would have assumed this whole list was blasphemous. But I listened to the Miley song. You know what? It does a little sound like “Message of Love.” A little. We can give it a pass. And I can accept the idea that crappy old Maroon 5 is a younger generation’s version of crappy old Steve Miller from my babysitter’s generation. But then my senses returned.

Actually…

You probably know what I’m trying to say here better than I can ever say it.

Outside a few similar chord progressions, all the comparisons are terribly off base. And other than Steve Miller, the older bands aren’t the mainstream pop of Wham or Toto or the like. The Pretenders, the Clash, Blondie and the Ramones all broke new ground. And T. Rex just plain rocked. The fact that something like this couldn’t even exist if it were trying to compare the grown-up’s music with their parent’s favorite tunes just shows how many RPMs recording industry has wasted spinning its wheels over the last 30 years.

*full disclosure - the g's favorite band and song is Steve Miller's Abracadabra. Also, I kinda sorta like Fall Out Boy.

red-crowned crane: straight con

All I do anymore is read "Fuck You, Penguin" while eating popsicles and listening to my husband cuss out Mario Kart. Seriously, it took me 15 minutes to remember this stupid blog's password.

and becks, too

happy birthday, ancient husband.

“A cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out, as good for nothing” - Samuel Johnson

The most telling thing about this article is not the picture about that shows how pissed off that one dog is or that animals can demonstrate an emotion that can be interrupted as envy. It’s this…

When asked to return rocks to their keepers in exchange for a treat, for example, monkeys that got cucumbers essentially went on strike and started throwing the rocks and cucumbers at researchers if they saw other animals getting grapes instead.

See, even in the animal kingdom, cucumbers are considered punishment. They cause riots.

Cucumbers are gross. They are the brussel sprouts of the vegetable world.

Crooked Fingers

My fingers nails grow at an above average rate. I know, it’s gross. And fascinating. It’s also about the only thing I do that’s above average.

Ever since I hurt my hand, though, the nail on that finger has been growing absurdly fast. I’ve had to trim it every two days. Prior to the damage, I would have assumed the opposite.

I did a little ‘tubes research and it turns out the rehab for my finger is also great for nail growth stimulation. Anything that encourages blood the fingers stimulates thicker, stronger and more luxurious claws. Ironically, it’s why people who chew their nails have faster growing ones.

So if you have weak and brittle fingernails and fall below gypsum on the mohs scale, I have a simple solution. Violently dislocate each knuckle from its joint, have a medical professional painfully wrench it back into place and then grimace through several weeks of painful rehab. Instant talons. Horrible disfigured talons.

You can tell by the way I roll shorty that I’m a ladies man

Although I wasn’t in a fraternity, I somehow managed to get myself invited to many, many sorority formals. And semi-formals. And sorority keggers, hootenannies, mixers and sorority box socials. It was a secret shame since I generally I disliked everything about the sorority girls at the clown college I attended except for their loose moral standards and access to free liquor.

Around the same time, Wyclef Jean felt it necessary to remake/cover the song Stayin' Alive. This song became a favorite at those ridiculous dances because the melody and beat were familiar enough to dry hump to yet the lyrics referenced such modern themes as dry humping. As it happens, one particular line from that song became extremely popular at these to-dos and was yelled in unison at the highest volume – “So mista funkmaster pump the bee-gees, And all you college students bring your Ouijas.” It’s 0:54 into the song.

Like all trickster women, sorority girls keep evil secrets designed to control men. I first assumed the passion for this line was limited to an individual sorority and I wasn’t in on the reference. But it turned out to be a Greek-wide phenomenon. All it takes for a song to endear itself to an “academic” audience is a mention of college and a vague allusion to the occult. And it helps if Ouijas rhymes with BeeGees.

I kept this knowledge secret from my friends from the radio station, ultimate Frisbee team, and such. They didn’t need to know about the soft spot in my heart and my head for dancing and wearing off-the-rack suits and my dad’s old ties. Strangely, however, this same song started to creep into my life via these avenues as well. Mostly it was because at the time we all enjoyed the irony of anything disco related and, let’s be real, the song's catchy as hell. But like the other Grecian-half of the school, they too became infatuated with one set of lyrics.

It’s at 1:20 into the video…

In case you misheard that, it was, “Every step tangoed, your beat don’t concern me, I’m eatin mangos in Trinidad with attorneys.” I’m not exactly how it came to pass, but we became fascinated with that mangos/Trinidad/attorneys bit. It became a catch all for any situation.

• “What are we doing Thursday night?” - “ Man, we’ll be eating mangos in Trinidad with attorneys.”
• “You worried about that Asian history mid-term?” - “Naw, that’ll be easy like eating mangos in Trinidad…“
• “Uh, your roommate said you went to a sorority formal on Saturday. What’s that about?” - “Say what!?! That dude is straight up eating mangos…”

See, it fits any and all situations.

Unfortunately, John Forte, the rapper/producer who uttered those genius lines, was arrested 2000 on what I can only assume were trumped cocaine possession charges. As a music listening public, we were suddenly denied his brilliance. Who knows what would have happened to Wyclef, Pras and Lauryn Hill if they had been guided back to the studio by the steady hand of Forte? Certainly Hill wouldn’t have had to eat her children after I bought her solo album. Like everything else good from college, it faded from my memory. There's nothing left other than the liver cirrhosis.

Anyway, I’m not sure how this slipped my attention, but John Forte’s sentence was commuted a few days before Thanksgiving, for some reason. And it wasn’t like the conviction was thrown out on a technicality. Nor was he pardoned by a corrupt Illinois governor looking for an ambassadorship to Trinidad. The sentence was commuted by a guy named the President of the United States of America George Bush.

Carly Simon was involved somehow too. And Orrin Hatch also.

Congratulations , John Forte, for having a strange group of supporters and getting out of the clink. I don’t really understand how you manage to pull something like that off. But enjoy your freedom mangos, nonetheless. They taste so much better on the outside

Help Me Scrape the Mucus off My Brain

The G: yr spawn was just not-bounced to sleep for his morning nap
there was screaming. said screamfest lasted much shorter than last night's, but he was not happy and voiced his opinion. i told him his concerns were noted

The N: he went to sleep as soon as I stood up last night
I think he just needs some movement. it may be easier to ween him

The G: wean. not Ween

The N: no. ween

The G: japanese cowboy him

The N: like a japanese cowboy

The G: oh

The N: snap

The G: hive mind

No, I do not know why I went to Tysons Corner mall with a 3 month old this morning. Good question.

Hey, did you know that the ice of the 9th circle of hell is kept frozen by Lucifer's six flapping wings?