B Hole

The Mrs. is out with her sisters tonight so I took the opportunity to wrap up her Christmas gifts all stealth like. I expected to be done with things by now, but our two older tots had other plans. So now it's 10-something, I've got my stash out, pulled the papers from the closet and I'm ready to wrap. Wiki-Wiki. I have no idea how TBS came on the tube, but it's Kevin Nealon and Fred Willard hosting "The Funniest Commercials of 2009" and I just saw a squirrel fart out a forest fire.

I hate commercials. I HATE commercials. But I get a kick out of squirrels and farts. Combine the two, add a full day of unlimited rides at the Mall of America amusement park, a cheap Pinot Noir and I couldn't tie my bow. I was laughing at squirrel farts so much that I had to look up the web site they splashed on the screen before the last commercial. So I head to the kitchen for some water and this is the spot I find on the home page. It only took the first gal to say: "B-hole" for me to lose it...

They had some people farts too.

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Ke-Bob?

On the completely macabre tip: Reuters is reporting that 3 Russian transients have been arrested after, allegedly, killing a comrade with knives & hammers, removing his head, eating him for dinner and then selling what was left of the good parts to a street vendor that peddles meats and pies.

Police were called after pieces of the person were found near a bus stop on the edge of town. The homeless suspects have been put on ice at the city jail in Perm, about 870 miles east of Moscow, facing charges of murder. Their statement cites "personal hostility" as a precursor to the assult. Apparently, the 25 year old victim tried to steal the sweetheart of one of the 3 suspects and they decided to teach their chum a lesson. The epicurean assassins are due in court on Monday.

In case you're wondering... "It was not immediately clear from the statement if any of the corpse had been sold to customers."

FYC

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I'm In If Urine

This has been a nut-busting week for MSP sport-nuts: Gophers/Badgers, Twins/Tigers and, of course, Vikings/Green Bay. The Twin Cities Marathon was also held on Sunday and, for most, it was an amazing race. But for one runner, the winner of his age group no less, the verdict is still out…and he’s pissed.

The athlete in question, a national record holder, is now under investigation by race officials, who are consulting with USA Track and Field, to determine if the competitor “violated the rules when he received the informal assistance on the way to winning his gender's 80-84 age division”. I know what you’re thinking…DOPER! Was it blood transfusions? Hormones? Anabolics? No; no it wasn't...it was a catheter. Like in a flexible or rigid hollow tube employed to drain fluids from body cavities.

Octogenarian athlete, 81 year old, Jerry Johncock, the first American over 80 to finish a marathon in under 4 hours Jerry Johncock, got to mile 21 and couldn’t hold it any more. Knowing that a blood clot was the culprit, (huh?) he pulled into the medical tent on River Rd. and asked for help so he could keep on going. Instead, aides told Jerry Johncock that his race was over and they would transport him to the nearest hospital. Jerry Johncock was all: What the dick? I’ve run over 100 marathons since turning 50 and I’ve never had to quit! Suddenly, and no doubt surprisingly, someone from the crowd of spectators that was supposedly urging on the 80-84 group race said: Wait! I have a catheter that I want Jerry Johncock to use to drain his bladder! And then he fetched one from his car. (huh? HUH!) Jerry Johncock sought the privacy of a medical van and a first aid staffer helped him poke the catheter into his bladder so he could lighten his load. Once done, he was off to the races! Jerry Johncock’s Good Samaritan has yet to be identified. Presumably because there are a lot of unanswered questions here. But Jerry Johncock is thankful.

It "was just a gift from the Lord," said Jerry Johncock. "As soon as I got the catheter, I [urinated] and I was good to go. Oh, what a relief that was." I bet!

My hat's off to you Jerry Johncock. You're a champion, a gentleman, can run circles around me, apparently poked a catheter into your own bladder in the back of a van and still won your race at 5h22m! You can stick it USAT&F. Jerry Johncock rules!

P.S. Jerry Johncock

Yeah, She Likes It

I haven't tried these things, but this commercial cracks me up every time!

Mrs. Hunter...

Tender TV

After the local news last night, I was picking up a few toys and getting ready to head off to bed but still had the Late Show on the tube in the background. Dave set up a segment about some guy named "Ernie", which sounded like a skit, but I was just half listening. Anyhow, I couldn't believe what I heard. So much so, that I had to fire up the computer and Google this guys name, "Ernie Anastos", immediately.

Turns out Ernie's a TV anchor for WNYW, Fox channel 5, in New York. He's also an Emmy award-winning newscaster who's been on-air since 1978 and, last Thursday night, he told the Fox meteorologist, Nick Gregory, to F a chicken on live TV.

"I guess it takes a tough man to make a tender forecast," EA said to NG, dropping a Perdue commercial reference that proves he was on air since the 70's.

"I guess that's me," awkwardly acknowledged Gregory.

Then, as the pair giggle away, Anastos says, "Keep f**king that chicken" and co-anchor Alexander just about explodes her head.

Priceless. The newsman has since apologized. But I want to thanks Mr. Anastos, as well as his supporting cast of Nick Greggory and co-anchor Dari Alexander (who really is the breakout star in this scene), for providing me with such a belly laugh, I was still crying as I fell asleep.

I'm sure this clip was viral by Friday but, in case you haven't seen it yet, here's Ernie who claims he said "plucking".

M Travers

Strings, sealing wax & other fancy stuff; if you're interested.

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090909

Today is the Ninth day of the Ninth month of the Ninth year of this century.

Wednesday & September are both made up of 9 letters. September 9 is the 252nd day of the year (2+5+2). The Stratosphere Hotel in Las Vegas is offering 99 quickie wedding packages to 99 couples at 9:09 p.m. for $99.09. The new iPods are supposed to come out today; as did the Beatles' Rock Band game and entire digitally remastered music catalog. In China, it's a once-in-a-millennium date that's so good (999 means longevity or forever in Chinese) about a billion people will be married. Plus, it's a real easy anniversary date to not forget. It takes 9 minutes for light from the sun to reach the Earth. Another single digit date will not happen for 92 years.

In Japanese, the word nine is a homonym of the word for "suffering". It's bad luck there; almost as bad as the number 4, which sounds like "death". Here, our Republicans are holding the "Worlds Largest Twitter Tea Party" at 9pm. And "999" upside down is "666".

Today is also World Day Of Interconnectedness. They call it "...a shift from I llness to WE llness and organizers hope we can tap the "omnipresent invisible field of electric and magnetic energy that connects us all and bring forth an environmentally sustainable, fulfilling and socially just human presence". That sounds magical. Actually, on their long list of hokey ideas to accomplish this, one thing did catch my eye: "express your appreciation". That was it. Not a bad idea either. Happy 09/09/09 everyone. Thanks for being here with me.

How Soon Can You Keep?

Another great time killer. I'm not a genius, yet, though. My stinkin' work neighbor kept poking her head over the top of our shared wall. Like I can’t see you glaring Dilberta! Mind your own beeswax please. You're not getting anything done staring at me you know.

What Up Dog?

Guess what this is... It's a sex toy for dogs. You heard me; an artificial rubber female-shaped dog doll with a silicone dog "vagina" that male dogs can mount and have real dog sex with. Rover's new best friend is called the DoggieLoveDoll and it's brought to us by a Brazilian company called PetSmiling. I bet they are.

In case you're wondering, the bogus bitch has easy to grasp hips and the entry point does include "an easy to clean reservoir". Come on! That's just too bizarre for me. The PetSmiling folks, though, seem sincerely sympathetic to your lonely pooch's needs and desires.

"The majority of non-neutered dogs spend a good chunk of time looking for something to hump. They try pillows, furry creatures, people’s legs and even other animals."

"During the doll’s test period with a few canines, including the Maltese Flock (responsible for the idea), the pets showed a better quality of life based on less anxiety, less barking, and less territorial demarcation. In other words, the dogs live a better life, satisfying their repressed sexuality, in some cases for many years."

The synthetic surrogate is produced in three sizes and each arrives with a tube of lube to "increase the useful life of the doll." Not sure who would ever want to apply canine KY before, or clean the reservoir after, but I know it won't be me. Sorry Fletcher, you'll just be finding Milkbones under the Christmas tree again this year; no DoggieLove for you.

Stormy

Our big fishing trip resulted in very few fish and, since we are bass fishing experts, I’m blaming the weather. I have to admit though, this was not just the biggest body of water I’ve ever tried to fish, but rivers are made up a lot differently than lakes and I’m used to lake patterns. There was a steep learning curve. However, we dealt with pretty severe weather conditions the first two days. Rain on the first day, and then wind and rain and then more rain and wind. Saturday was pretty much a wash. The swells on the main lake were at least 2 feet high. We were in a little aluminum fishing boat mind you, so we were getting tossed around pretty good. Todd spent most of Saturday trying to keep the boat afloat and that meant not much fishing. I felt guilty, but if he was having such a hard time with it, I’m pretty sure we would have ended up on some homeowner’s lawn or underneath some boatowner’s dock had I taken the helm. After two days, Todd almost fell into the drink once, I ripped a rubber frog out of a tree and almost into Todd’s heart, we just missed backing into two dudes in a canoe, Todd almost sent me overboard after gunning the motor to stop us from hitting the dudes in the canoe, we narrowly missed crashing into a moored pontoon, came as close to you can get (in my opinion) to capsizing in the open water after…actually, I don’t even know what happened the first time. I just felt myself get pitched into the air with the bow of the boat as I’m watching the back of the craft go straight down as water rushed into the left corner up to Todd’s hand that was gripping the gunwale like a vice. Thankfully, we landed upright, scared as all get out but upright, and we motored on. Only 5 fish between us so far. Day 3, our half day, was calm and beautiful and, with just two hours before we had to head home, we locked onto the bass just like we had planned to be doing the whole time. Then, on our last trip back to the dock, we were again almost overturned by a super-dick driving his family in a big cabin cruiser who apparently didn't see us. His wife and rest of family did though. They were all laughing until we actually hit their wake.

That’s fishing. Some things you can control, some you can’t. We were both grumpy a few times, but we made the most of it and still had a great time together on the water. We even started on plans for next year’s trip. And first on that list is not staying at the same campsite. That was, for sure, the low point of our adventure. The sign out front said “Resort”; what a joke. We get there on Fri. night, ready for a little R&R after a long day of fishing in the rain, to find our site occupied by other tenants. This was out of the 2 tent sites “on the hill”. It was a beautiful spot overlooking the rolling hills of the Wisconsin River Valley with rows of corrugated steel storage facilities below that and 3 holding ponds that looked like bars on a cell phone and obviously man-made before that. Sewage treatment maybe? The trailers started at the banks of the sewage treatment ponds. Todd had gotten there that morning and checked us in. When we met at the dock, he called the place “interesting”. Todd is the king of understatements, so I should have been worried then. Everyone except us and the strange couple who stole our site with the kid and another adult female, was in a rental “cabin” or a trailer. We make arrangements to move to the other site; the nice small one, with all the rocks, across the road from the bathroom. Whatever, we were just there to crash and that was it. We woke up bleary eyed and unrested but our excitement for the day was such a motivator we were out by 5:30. Little did we know Mother Nature had other plans. The next night, we return tired, soaked and sore, to a barren camp site. Everything was gone. We find our tent broken down, in a wet pile on our original, but recently vacated lot. We marched down to the office, asked for the manager and were told he did it “for us”. Manager guy, who looked just like the pock marked leader of the Scorpions in Grease except shorter and not cool at all, says: “I did that. Those storms were so bad, when the wind came ripping up the hill it pulled your tent up and sent it tumbling across the road.” Then he adds: “It almost hit me in the head!” I was like, my-ass, jackass! First off, it was staked down. Second, how likely is it that this guy was standing in the middle of this one road, in the middle of this violent thunderstorm, just as the wind ravaged our tent and sent it flying into the air directly at him? What-ever guy! Not likely at all. But he was saying it like: “You’re lucky I was there and you’re lucky I’m not gonna sue you after your tent caused me emotional distress.” It was already dark and we still had to set up camp, again, so I had to let it go and get the heck out of Dodge.

That cat was just one of the residents of this fine “resort”. To give you a better idea what the rest of the bunch was like, let me present to you some of the pearls we heard freely flowing from the mouths of our neighboring trailerparkers. All but one were between the hours of 11pm and 1:30am.

Top 5 Things Overheard While Hiding In My Tent At The Trailer Park in Lodi, WI:

1: "You Fu*king HOOOOOAR!"

2: "He peed all over my hand!"

3: "Noooooooo! Stop Him!"

4: "Oh, I made some Meatloaf Salad."

5: I'M JUST GETTING MY CIGARETTES AND MY RUMPLEMINTZ!!!"

That last gem was from the not so dainty gal in the cabin next to us as she toppled out of the golf cart she crashed into their lot in the wee hours of Sunday morning. I honestly feared she, and the two chumps she picked up at the bar that night, were going to careen into our tent as they sped off into the dark towards whatever escapades they had in store. We were up even earlier on Sunday. We packed up the wet gear and sped off towards daylight and the boat dock. Good riddance to bad trash.

That place was a hot mess. But my buddy said something later, after we were home with our respective families, that made all this not such a big deal. "I had a blast" he said. And you know, I didn't even have to think about it...he was so right. Despite the crazy campers, I had a blast too. I had a wonderful, exciting, rejuvenating, guy's weekend of a trip and I am thankful. You are so right my man; we did have a blast. Thank you for reminding me. Next year, we just need to catch a few more bass!

Vacillate

: to waver in mind, will, or feeling; hesitate in choice of opinions or courses

Jitterbugs

No summertime blues in our house though! In fact, we’ve been having a great summer. Busy and great. The littlest one of us is up and running and saying new words every week. She’s also gotten into dolls, which is super cute. It’s also very cheap for us since her sisters had a pile of them. She's also learned to scream quite effectively. Swimming lessons ended, we had a few mini-vacations and tennis starts next week. I’m prepping for a Serena/Venus type of thing to happen with that. Luckily, the taller girls have no idea what that means so the pressure is off…for now. A Mass. vacation is scheduled for next month and then the Mrs. signed the older two up for dance in the fall. I didn’t like that move. I’ve been subjected to several recitals in the past few years. While it’s delightful to watch your nieces and nephews up there in lights, the other 2 hours and 50 minutes can be dreadful. I’m sorry to all you dance recital people out there, I know it’s a lot of work, but many of those kids don't even look like they're enjoying themselves. And when the adult classes start their routines, things just get weird. However, I’ve been told that my older girls “want to be on stage”. So boogie on my tiny dancers! I will be there for every single step, ball change, arabesque and do-si-do and then, hopefully, Grand-Slam title.

Other than that, I’ve been taking care of the lawn and gardens and getting as much fishing in as I can. Mostly its in the hour I create by ending work early and before I need to pick up the girls. I think I was skunked only once this year so far. I’m really refining my technique, but learning new tricks regularly. I’m heading to Wisconsin to meet a good friend for a little bass fishing weekend this Friday, in fact. I’m so excited I’m having trouble sleeping. I’m not kidding. This is going to be a real fishing trip, a serious dusk to dawn sporting event, so there’s a lot to think about. I’ve been reading reports on-line and reviewing Google Maps every day. My buddy, Todd, has been talking to a dude from Chicago who does this Midwest fishing TV show and is very familiar with our destination, Lake Wisconsin. Thankfully, he had some great info to share and we've come up with a definite game plan with some very specific spots to hit. I think our pre-fishing strategery will pay off. Once there, I plan on tossing frogs in the slop and, since we’ll be boating it like the pros, some flippin’ and pitchin’ a jig and pig combo to isolated cover. Oh man, that gave me chills. I need to stop the sexy talk.

Steamy

You've heard the phrase “Food Porn” right? The colorful colloquialism is employed everywhere from Real Simple to Anthony Bourdain to the local food bloggers in every town. It’s a buzz word and it always makes me giggle. It’s a good description though. We watch the Food Network and read the magazines as a substitute for the real thing and it really can be stimulating. So if the Rachel Ray is regular old missionary style cuisine, then I have come across the raunchiest culinary fetish blog out there. I’m not sure if it’s a warning or recipe site, but it’s called ThisIsWhyYou'reFat.com and it will astound you six ways ‘till Sunday.

Feast your eyes on such tasty nuggets as the Twinkie Wiener Sandwich (That's a hot dog inside a Twinkie covered in Cheese Wiz), The Pattie LaBurger (A triple bacon cheeseburger sandwiched between two deep fried burger patties instead of a bun) or the Cornhole (Corn on the cob wrapped in bacon surrounded by two hot dogs and two cheese sticks encased in a wad of ground beef). I don't even understand how you're supposed insert that thing into your mouth, but I suggest the proper prophylactic be in place before attempting. Whatever floats your boat, right? I'll let you discover other gastronomical wonders such as the Sausage Fatty, Porkgasm, Toad in the Hole, Lardz, Meat Ship and Hot Beef Sundae on your own. You’ll need a romp on the elliptical just because you looked at this smut, trust me.

Speaking of exercise…the double jogging stroller has shipped from Mpls and should be in your possession within a day or two. Enjoy all that “walking for fitness” you have planned, Meat Ship... I mean, Ken!

Sweet Home

Last week, we loaded up the Wagon Queen Family Truckster and took our brood on a little 400 mile road trip to the Windy City. Our good friends, K&J, have added two new children to their family & we were there to celebrate with them. It was exciting to meet these kids for the first time. They are beautiful, bright eyed and bushy tailed brothers with much vigor and verve. They like to run and jump and smile and crash things into other things; like walls, trees and people. They also liked hitting me and jabbing me in the torso with plastic spikes. Why K&J have a horseshoe set in the yard, I do not know. But I can say the bros don’t know the official rules of horseshoes yet. Nonetheless, a few minor puncture wounds to my belly and thigh notwithstanding, a wonderful time was had by all.

K&J were fun to watch as well. I think it’s easy for everyone to forget that they are brand new parents when their kids are 3 & 4. I thought about how much I have learned over the, almost, 4 years of being a father myself. I recall feeling so ill-prepared and lost those first few months. Nothing can truly equip you for what's in store. K&J certainly did their research, read the books, talked to pros and other families, but it’s a different story once the kids are there; literally over night, in your home, in your charge. I remember feeling so overwhelmed. I imaging K&J are feeling a little of the same right now. I know they are. They're doing a great job though. There is a lot of love in that house. I hope there are a lot of band aids too.

This trip was also a bit atypical for me. It was the first time, since I moved to the City of Big Shoulders in 1990, that I felt a little like a tourist. I guess I have been away for quite some time and we did do some “touristy” things; like visiting Millennium Park for the first time. It was sort of sad. Chicago is my kind of town, but it’s no longer my second city. I’m OK with that though. I loved being able to take my own girls around my Alma mater and former haunts. We got to show them mom and dad’s last apt. They loved the “L” and splashing in the reflection pool of the new Crown Fountain. We even got to take them to Garcia’s for veggie burritos with cheese. Experiencing new things with my own children, watching them discover new things for themselves, thrills me to no end.

When we returned from our trip I let the dog out, unpacked the car and turned on the sprinkler. It was nice. No, it was more than nice. We were home and I was glad. And then this morning, in the car, my two older girls asked when they would next see their new friends in "she-KAH-go", John and Andre and Gregory. Those are kids of some of my best friends. I told them "soon", but I don't know if that's true. How time flies. How my children continue to overwhelm me.

Accept

Bumper sticker on a blue Mazda Protegé at the intersection of Lexington and Yankee Doodle Rd:

OBEY GRAVITY

It's the Law!

Flourishing

Spring hit us with a resplendent POW! this week. It was like a switch was flicked and the swelling buds were finally free to split their seams. I love the newness of this time. There is restoration and revival all around. It's invigorating! Remember that tree in our front yard? It lit itself up the other day in an explosion of soft, white, efflorescence. It's radiant.

Our tallest little one seems to have inherited my fondness for flora. She's pointing out the "sprouts" everywhere we go. "Look! It's SPROU-TED!" she hollers; much like she did with the holiday lights in the middle of winter. It's darling.

When you hear her impassioned tone, one can't help but remember, or realize, just how significant Springtime really is. I need to thank her for that. It's amazing how fast things grow.

Waiting

The dolphin show at the MN Zoo remains in abeyance after Dolphin Allie's calf didn't survive her birth on March 26. In fact, the pod was only recently re-united. The guys and gals were segregated these past few months after behavioral issues made Allie's pregnancy risky and the G-rated shows impossible. But all 4 seem to be doing well now and team building with trainers is under way.

My baby baby turned one year old herself this weekend. I love you all the way to the moon and back SJ. Our pod is healthy and beautiful. Here’s a neat pic of a couple of my zoo babies from this weekend.

Darjeeling

It's take a lot, but I was left agape today. While perusing the on-line news with a cup of joe, as is my early morning custom, I scanned a caption that immediately caused my mouse finger to twitch and my gag reflex to tickle.

This week, Republicans across the country have been hosting "Tea Parties" to protest President Obama's tax policy and bank bailouts. We had one here in St. Paul yesterday. I guess they found it cute (ironic?) to hold the event on "Tax Day", because many of them were scheduled for the 15th. Of course, these events are in reference to the infamous "Boston Tea Party" of 1773 whereat colonialists dumped shiploads of tea into Boston Harbor rather than pay the British tax on it. That protest eventually led to the American Revolution. I don't think many of the news outlets here even covered the get-together of, self-proclaimed, teabaggers on the Capitol lawn.

But I'll tell you what they're all talking about today. That snarky, not-gay, could be straight, who cares which way he goes , Anderson Hays Cooper and his potty mouth. Last night, on AC360, while talking with a panel of pundits about the Prez' Georgetown speech on the financial crisis earlier in the day, this went down:

David Gergen: "They still haven't found their voice, Anderson. This happens to a minority party after it's lost a couple of bad elections, but they're searching for their voice."

Cooper (and the headline): "It's hard to talk when you're teabagging."

!!! If I could insert one of those shocked face smileys here, I would. And he barely even smirked! Impressive. Sorry Chester, but I don't make this stuff up and this was too funny to pass on. I'll even dangle a little video out there for you. Not really appropriate for a news person on National television but, man, what a zinger!

Ominous

Bumper sticker on a silver Honda Element at Pilot Knob Rd. & 494 around 3pm:

Every Month is Zombie Awareness Month

Mii Oh My

Just when I think the Germans have the market cornered on quirkiness, something comes along that makes me remember that one country’s fetish is another country’s fun. Case in point: Japan.

Last year, Kyoto’s video game giant, Nintendo, released an “amazing virtual pee experience” for their wildly popular Wii gaming console. The game, called Super Pii Pii Brothers, requires the participant to strap-on a Wii controller and whiz their way to points by soaking targets in on-screen toilets. Players control the flow by twisting their torso and gyrating their hips. Sounds super fun! With “amazingly realistic pee fluid dynamics”, 100 different “peeing environments”, multiple toilet & urinal styles and a competitive “dueling pee stream mode”, what more could you ask for in a video game? Japanese school girls are reportedly lining up in droves to take a swing with the new thing. They say it can’t be beat.

OK, confession: that game was made up, but not by me. It was done as last year’s April Fool’s Day joke by the Internet culture web site, Think Geek. (Check out today’s “Squeeze Bacon”.) I just ran across it for the first time the other day though and totally fell for it. The Japanese put out some weird stuff, especially technology wise, so I hardly questioned it. But, when I found out it was a gag, I did feel bad for the disgruntled gals that wouldn’t get to experience the “first time pleasure of urinating while standing” that the fake Super Pii Pii Brother’s box promised.

If you were feeling the same way, don't worry! All is not lost my gal-pals! And don’t be ashamed either; urinating while standing truly is a pleasure. So, for you, I pose the P-Mate! A “portable urinating device that allows women to urinate standing up wherever and whenever they need to, without losing their dignity.” Handy.

And if poise and decorum isn’t your thing, I offer you the Shenis. Sounds like “penis” and looks like a 12 inch long, gold colored, hard plastic penis. But it's not. It's a 12 inch long, gold colored, hard plastic “urinary director” that's shaped like a penis. I only wish this was a joke. Happy April 1 nonetheless.

Guten Appetit!

Europe loves Barack Obama. They love him; even the French. But the Germans are Obamamaniacs. The Germans LIEBE him. Karsten Voigt, Germany’s Coordinator for Trans-Atlantic Relations, declared: "Germany is Obamaland” during the Prez' January tour of the continent. You can buy a collector worthy Obama doll, created by renowned German doll maker Marcel Offermann, there for a mere $216 US. "The doll works more on a symbolic level," notes Offermann. I would agree. In an another attempt to capitalize on his popularity, German frozen food company, Sprehe Feinkost, (that’s Sprehe “fine foods”) has produced a new poultry product they decided to dub: Obama Fingers. “Tender, juicy pieces of chicken breast” that are “coated and fried" and served up with a tasty curry dip.

When the possibility of consumer backlash was posed to the co. by a German magazine, Sprehe sales manager, Judith Witting, said: “The word ‘fingers’ in the name refers to the fact that it is a finger food. It's like ‘hotdogs’…No one would ever think they are actually from dogs,” missing the point completely. Now, I feel that political correctness can get a little rambunctious at times (e.g. Freedom Fries) and, to be fair, it doesn’t sound like the racial undertones have even registered with Sprehe yet, but this should have at least been a blip on someone's radar.

It is another country though. I shoulden't be so ethnocentric. Some things won't have the same ring in Deutschland as they might in the States. For better or worse, I suppose. Take for instance the “Gutvik” children’s bed sold by IKEA. Although originally named after a sleepy Swedish village, “gut vik” in German means, “good fu*k”. German IKEA’s sold the good f*ck children’s bed for a while. They also have “Vulva” perfume? It's the German scent that smells like...apple blossoms. I'm just kidding; it smells like vagina. This wasn’t an accident though. It’s vagina scented perfume for women who want to smell like a vagina all over. (Check out some reactions.) And then there’s “Ejaculada”, the German alcoholic sports drink that may or may-not contain actual semen. Yum?

I don't know, but I guess, with products like that, naming your fried chicken after America’s first black President isn't the most peculiar marketing ploy after all. And Germany is Kookyland.

Dear Diarrhea...

Rotavirus is a genus of nonenveloped, double-stranded RNA virus in the family Reoviridae that affects the gastrointestinal system. It's the most common cause of severe diarrhea among children. Every year, about 55,000 tots in the US contract it. Worldwide, 660,000 die from it. It's serious shit and it seeped into our household this weekend.

We don't have a confirmed diagnosis from the CDC or anything, but I looked it up on WebMD and that's just as good, right? Anyhow, after ruling out Shigellosis, Campylobacter, Food Poisoning, Drug Overdose, Giardiasis and Lactose Intolerance, Rotavirus it was. (Actually, their mom, our medical professional, called it after a couple hours.) I'm sure some dirty little day care kid spread it to my family with their dirty little poop fingers. It started out with vomiting. First the baby, then her sister, then the other. They went down like dominoes even before their their temps began to rise. The diarrhea came a day later. Oh God, the diarrhea. It was horrible; this soupy, sour smelling, rota-rhea. My little angels were knocked on their stinky asses by this infectious agent. They were reduced to sacks of 101 degree mush. They couldn’t eat or drink or even sing along to Annie, which we watched, like, 5 times in 4 days. They just laid there, puking then pooping on themselves and me. All I could tell them was, "the sun will come out tomorrow my dears."

I feel a little guilty for getting huffy every time I had to clean up a mess. Things were much worse for my girls than me, I know, I really do and I felt so sad for them; but it was such a mess. I kept saying, “hate the diarrhea, not the diarrheaer”. But man, we went through a month’s worth of bedding and clothing this weekend. 9 loads of laundry. I cursed the little urchin that brought this plague upon our home! I bet it was Brandon.

Turns out half our day care group was struck; including Day Care Lady herself. She was at some board meeting Friday night when it hit her. I’ll confess, that made me laugh a little. (Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go right now.) She should be hyper-vigilant about hand washing this week though. She better be because kids can become re-contaminated and I don't want any of us to go through this again, ever. And if I end up coming down with it, lil' Brandon better watch his back.

8oo8le55

Slip in your pocket protector and polish your slide rule. We're gonna party like it's March 3, 2009. Happy Square Root Day Everyone! This rare holiday happens when the day and month are both the square root of the last two digits of the current year. It only occurs nine times a century folks. Mathematically, March 3, 2009, can be expressed as 3/3/09 or, as the cool kids call it: 3² = 3 × 3 = 9. Woot Woot! Ron Gordon, a Redwood City, CA. driver's ed and substance abuse teacher, dreamed up the day as a way to get kids excited about math.

“These days are like calendar comets, you wait and wait and wait for them, then they brighten up your day — and poof — they’re gone,” says Ron.

And if the mad math itself doesn't motivate you, how about the prospect of pocketing 339 dollars straight outta Ron's own wallet? That's right; pull off the biggest Square Root Day event and it's yours. You have to sign up on his daughter's Facebook "Square Root Day" event page to get in on it though. Believe it or not, there are several sites dedicated to the day, so make sure you hit up the right page.

Now, you might be wondering, how does one celebrate such a magnificently mathematical milestone? Suggestions include: cutting root vegetables into cubes and cooking up some hash; baking a carrot cake in a 9x9 pan; watching a VHS marathon of the second season of Square Pegs; square dancing and mowing the square root symbol in a corn field. Gordon's own students will be dining on "root" beer in "square" beakers. (Damn, he's good!)

If you're thinking, eh, this is just another made up holiday, you'd totally be right. But know that the next one won't come before 4/4/16. However, if you do miss it, there's always March 14 (3.14), also known as Pi Day. Or the other "calendar comet" of November 11, 2011 (On the Power of One Day, at 11:11:11 am, on 11.11.11, something weird will happen). And on 03.06.09, geeks everywhere will be escorting their Real Dolls to the Watchmen premier. Watch out.

Myself, I'm going to find, at least, one person to tell the story of the lass with boobs that weighed 69 lbs. to. I'll break out my calculator to show them that 69 is too, too, too heavy. So she had to go to Fifty First St. to see Dr. X, who gave her 8 operations, that equal 55378008, which spells out the poor girl's fate...when I turn my Casio upside down!

Bridge and f-holes

From Steven Isserlis to YoYo Ma to that dude from North Park who played on the Siamese Dream record, cellists everywhere are breathing a collective sigh of relief and thanking their lucky stars that their seed factories are out of harm’s way. The scourge of the violoncello world is no more! Actually…it never was.

The list of Repetitive Strain Injuries seems to grow longer each year. We continue to abuse and misuse our tools to the point of tissue damage and chronic pain. There’s "writer’s cramp", "tennis elbow", "Rubik’s wrist" and "Blackberry thumb". Until recently, there was also "Cello Scrotum". Often snicker about by the flautists in the orchestra pit; this distressing disease was no laughing matter to serious cellists. In fact, for over 30 years now, it has been the bane of their professional careers. Well, the players with dangly bits bane. Turns out, if they were having problems with their beanbag, it wasn't from playing the cello.

The hoax started, in May of 1974, when Dr. Elaine Murphy, and her husband John, responded to a letter in the British Medical Journal regarding the (bona fide) condition of Guitarists Nipple (a painful irritation of the nipples experienced by classical guitar players). Dr. Murphy, a former Professor of Psychiatry of Old Age at Guy's Hospital in London, now a Baroness and member of the British House of Lords, detailed the harrowing inflammation some cellists experience after rubbing their testicles on their instrument too much. Apparently, the Murphys, believing the original article to be a cock-and-bull story itself, decided to one-up the account with a made up malady of their own and Cello Scrotum was coined. As guitarists nipple is real, the BMJ considered the Murphy’s claim authentic and published the piece. They were stunned, but stayed mum. The sham syndrome was cited in a research article later that year and Cello Scrotum has been a diagnosable disorder ever since.

About a month ago, after seeing another real references to their bogus diagnosis, Baroness Murphy could remain silent no more and turned out another letter to the BMJ to tattle on her own transgression. “Perhaps after 34 years it’s time for us to confess that we invented cello scrotum.” They seem to still be laughing at their own joke too. “Somewhat to our astonishment, the letter was published...Anyone who has ever watched a cello being played would realize the physical impossibility of our claim.” The editors of the BMJ said no harm, no foul and appear to be glad they were let in on the gag.

Sweet. Now that the Baroness and her John came clean, we can all get back to wild, reckless, unprotected, cello jams, thank you!

Iambic Tetrameter

Beloved American author and illustrator, Theodor Seuss Geisel, better known to most as Dr. Seuss, has become part of our household's bedtime ritual. I’ll be honest, I enjoy his work. It’s fun to read his sing-songy poetry aloud. Geisel, by the way, pronounced it “Soice”; rhymes with “voice”. His father and father’s father were both Massachusetts brewmansters and young Theodore really, truly, liked to drink. He likes to drink, and drink, and drink. The thing he likes to drink is ink. The ink he likes to drink is pink. He likes to wink and drink pink ink…and beer. He wrote 51 books under the Dr. Seuss pen name. 13 more as Theo LeSieg (Geisel spelled backwards) and 1 as Rosetta Stone.

Arguably, his most famous literary accomplishment is, The Cat In The Hat. According to lore, after the 236 word text became a hit 1956, Random House publisher, and co-founder, Bennett Cerf (rhymes with smurf) bet the good Dr. that he could not produce a book using only 50 words. Geisel won the $50 bet with…Green Eggs and Ham.

Who can recall those 50 words? I, would not, could not, recall all 50 words. Not in a house. Not in a box. Not with a mouse. Not with a fox. I tried for the better part of my work day, in fact. I did get close though. Could you, would you, attempt to name all 50 words? Give it a whirl and then let me know how you did. I’ll even give you a hint: only a single word in the entire story has more than one syllable.

If you can’t do it, and it’s driving you crazy like it did me, here is the list. Try not to cheat. And if you think you really know your Seuss, here is an actual timed test that gives you 10 minutes to complete the task. Try it and you may I say!

Year Of The Ox

Happy New Year everybody! It’s been a while, I know, but the holidays were a busy time for our household. What’s new, right? We did have a wonderful Christmas though. Hope you and yours were filled with the spirit and enjoyed your own festivities as much as we did ours.

So what is new for 2009 here at HQ? Well, as if we don’t already have enough gadgets to plug in and maintain (cell phones, iPods, Leapsters, breast pumps, etc.) the Mrs. and I have allowed a couple new electronic strangers into our home to eavesdrop on our “media exposure”. That’s right, we were asked to be Arbitron…um, Subjects? Guinea pigs? Suckers? I’m not sure, but they’re going to monitor every second of our waking life with a newfangled gizmo called The Portable People Meter.

Arbitron has been spying on American radio listeners since 1949. Until now, they relied on hand written diaries each participant mailed to them every week for a year. But that all changed with the introduction of the PPM; the “next generation of electronic ratings.” It’s a pager sized device that we, for some reason, agreed to actually wear on our person throughout the day. The rep on the phone last night said “we know when it’s on you and we know when it’s not.” That was a little freaky, but I was still interested. Apparently, radio stations embed sonic code within their broadcasts that come out of your speakers, along with the regular audio programming, but are undetectable by the human ear. It’s like a radio dog whistle. Scientists call it "psychoacoustic masking." Arbitron calls it money in the bank.

These little bits of code are not limited to radio either. Arbitron will know when I'm watching broadcast television, HD Cable, TiVo, MPEG video, even streaming Internet radio and Podcasts. They will know the sounds I’m exposed to in the elevator, the football game and the produce isle of my grocery store. It’s kind of neat. Unfortunately, I can’t get detailed info on my unique media exposure, but that’s something Arbitron is “working on”. They do compensate a little for the time too. I don’t recall exactly, but it like $10 for signing on, $20 for plugging it in and, depending on how much you wear the thing, they send cash money - up to $109 a month each. Not bad, I say.

Oh, and if in the near future you start seeing a whole lot more House Hunters International, Classic Albums and The Backyardigans on your tube, sorry ‘bout that. At least the music in the elevator might be a lot better.