Chapter 35

"Reverend Mother always says when the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." So true Fraulein Maria. And so it goes at the close of chapter 34 of the book of Matthew. After an excruciatingly long 14 months of trying to sell our house, we finally inked a contract on Monday. We had to suffer through a string of complications, mostly caused by the prominent Twin Cities surgeon who was buying our place for his daughter, but came to a deal in the end that was really good...for the Doctor. Whatever. We couldn't bear the thought of another year of open houses and private showings and cleaning. God, the cleaning, it was insane. But what-ever. We sold and were poised to make a move on the 4br. in Eagan that we've had staked out for about 3 months! Then, on Tuesday, the day after we signed off on our house, we were informed that another party already has a purchase agreement written for the same property. Our property. They looked at it for the first time at 2pm that afternoon and had the offer ready by 4. POW! What a kick in the teeth.

I won't burden you with all the details of the next few days, but things were tense. When a 3rd party jumped in with an offer of their own, things turned downright agonizing. I couldn't believe it. We took a hit on our own sale because we had this one home waiting for us. How could it be that on the first day we could even think about making an offer, 2 separate parties decide they want it? This house had been sitting quiet, in this horrendous housing market, with no activity whatsoever, since October 06! The listing price had dropped 3 times already and was now at a figure that put this dream home within inches of our reach. The stress was dizzying. But the owners were cool and chose to hold off on the first offer and hear all 3 at the same time. Why wouldn't they? I'm sure they were doing back flips at the thought of the bidding war that was about to take place.

And war it was. A bloody, messy, leave no prisoners alive war. The owner's realtor, who quickly lost control over this frenzied and emotional situation, had to reveal that she had never dealt with a multiple offer situation before. Our Realtor was having a hard time managing all the curve balls that were being thrown at us. She's no amateur, and had unquestionably brought her A game, but we could see she was more than frustrated with the imbroglio that this was turning into. When one of the parties chose to drop out, probably due to the chaos, we thought, "finally, some help." But then we were told they decided to put an offer on our #2 house instead! Then we find out the one that was left, the one that saw the house on Tues and decided to buy it immediately, had a Chinese realtor who couldn't speak English. Who hires a realtor to represent you in a major deal that can't speak English? That's just kooky. There was just too much stacking up against us. We felt defeated before the owners even heard our official offer. Our realtor kept saying, "If this isn't the house for you, you'll know why, in 2 weeks, when you find the one that is." She really was trying to be helpful. I was looking up the address of the local Extended Stay America. We were going to need some place to go when the Dr's daughter kicks us out. When a shelf in our garage fell off the wall and landed on the hood of our new car, leaving multiple etchings and 3 dents, I almost lost it. Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs.

We had done a lot number crunching, and soul searching, and came up with a plan. If we were going to get this house, we had to give them our strongest offer up front. No messing around. No playing games. We had one chance to present to them and we couldn't blow it. We were in no position to undercut their asking price like Dr. McStingy did to us. Like were planning to do only 5 days earlier. We had our number, asked for almost nothing extra in the deal, and had to make peace with that. We came to the point where we had to say this is honestly the best we can do, and as they say: Let Go, Let God. If we don't get the house...

The owners chose to accept our offer.

In this, my birth month, I am about to make yet another major life change. I can't be more pleased. And it's not just the new house. That's really the icing on my birthday cake. What I'm most proud of is the family that is taking this step with me. I have the most radiant & remarkable wife a man can hope for; and two of the most extraordinary daughters, who blow my mind every single day, by my side. To have these women in my life is truly miraculous. And that is the gift I'm utmost thankful for. I love you girls. Now let's start packing!

ABC, Easy As 123

Who watched the 80th anual Scripps National Spelling Bee last nite? May I have the language of origin? Are there any alternative pronunciations? Dang, the competition was feirce. Those kids were unbeleivable. Hats off to 13 year old Evan O'Dorney who walked away with the trophey after throwing down "serrefine" (SEHR'-ah-feen). The camera shot of the tear welling up in fellow eighth grader Nate Gartke's eye, when he realised he just took second, was more hart wrenching than George failing the Intern Exam. Intellectual athleticks, cerebral competition and reallity TV at it's finest. Take that Trebek!

But how 'bout that ending? First off, why was it that a Canadian almost won our National Spelling Bee? Second, did Evan O'Dorney understand that he just won our National Spelling Bee? At the close of the contest, ESPN's Stuart Scott jumps onstage to interview the Baby Einstein and gets absolutely no reaction from the kid. None. Zero. Zilch. Zot. Scott tried to create some energy, à la "Tom Brady, you just won the Super Bowl! What are you going to do next?" but failed to elicit any "I'm going to Disney World!" enthusiasm from the 4ft. dictionary in round rimmed glasses. The fact is, we were told by Evan himself, earlier in the broadcast, that he doesn't even like spelling. Mathematics, martial arts and composing piano concertos are his true passions.

Scott: Would you like to, maybe, reassess your likability of the National Spelling Bee?
(Evan had no response. No reaction at all. He just stood there.)
Scott: How do you feel about it now?
O'Dorney: Are you saying I'm supposed to like it more?

It was actually uncomfortable to see. Scott was twisting in the wind. O'Dorney seemed utterly ambivalent towards the whole thing. I just had to laugh at the awkwardness of it all. Now, I don't want to take away anything from Evan O'Dorney's decisive win or prodigious command of all things linguistic; he kicked some serious Bee ass. A-S-S, ass. But I couldn't help but think how children with autism spectrum disorders often can't differentiate between a smile and a frown. It was a strange moment. Sort of the triumph of victory and the agony of defeat at the exact same time.

Good Things Come To Those Who Bait

One fish. Two fish. Red fish. Blue fish. Black fish. Blue fish. Old fish. New fish. Tomorrow is the MN bass opener. The real start of the fishing season. For me at least. I am so ready to get out on the water. Author Harry Middleton once wrote: "Fishing is not an escape from life, but often a deeper immersion into it." Middleton was a fly fisherman, but I know his reflection rings true for any ardent angler, technique notwithstanding. There' a lot more to the avocation of angling than Dr. Seuss would lead you to believe. Fishing is more than fish to me. It is more than amusement. It is not a leisure pursuit. For me, it is repletion.

"Some go to church and think about fishing,
others go fishing and think about God."
- Tony Blake

New Car Scent

Check out the new whip. A far cry from the Corolla that's now history. We're rockin' the 17's shortys! Actually, it's a pretty sweet ride. And no, it is not a minivan. I've seen it referred to as a "microvan", but I prefer "urban people mover". The salesguy told us it's the preferred van design of Europe and Japan. I figured that was just a salesguy line. So I looked it up afterwards and found that these little motorcars have been big sellers East of the Americas since '99. With sport sedan performance, dual sliding doors and room for six, this ain't no Clark Griswold Wagonqueen Family Truckster, that's for sure. We splurged a little too; got all the bells and most of the whistles. Plus, it's got the "Zoom Zoom". That's Japanese for Fahrvergnügen.

Here's a funny little commercial for it that runs overseas. I felt exactly the same way when I got home last night.

Vitriolic

The anonymity of the Internet frees up people to say some cruel and hurtful things. They write words they would never utter in public. I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised by what I've been reading on the passing of Jerry Falwell this morning.

Rev. Falwell himself has said a lot of things that were cruel and hurtful. I am not a Falwell fan. I do not side with the Moral Majority. Let me make that clear. Statements made by Jerry Falwell have personally offended me. He's said despicable things about other faiths, races, women, GLBTs, civil rights and even 9-11. But the death of a human being deserves politeness. Some of the remarks I've read are just beyond bad taste. One blogger wrote: "Only wish he suffered more." "There are no tears in my house tonight... only Champagne," wrote another. Parties and toasts were a common theme. There were way to many descriptions of Tinky Winky dancing on his grave. A comment on Gawker.com read: "I hope he is gang-banged in Hell by Satan, Saddam, Hitler and Liberace". That doesn't even make sense. Last night, in San Francisco, there was what organizers called an "Anti-Memorial" held for Mr. Falwell. That's just hateful.

Must we be tolerant of intolerance? I don't think so. But responding to indignity with indignity, doesn't help the situation in the least. I know people are reacting out of emotion, and I'm not a woman, gay or Jewish. Someone could argue that I have no idea how Jerry Falwell's comments affected them. On an individual basis, I guess that's true. I believe that it's your right to say what you want as well. But I also know that hate affects us all.

Botanic

The Saint Paul Farmers Market has finally opened. I love that place. We picked up a few hanging baskets for the back yard. Picking out new baskets has become an annual Springtime tradition for me. (Yeah, that's right, I like flowers.) This early in the season there isn't much else at the market besides flora and flowerage. The average last frost date for the Twin Cities is May 15th after all. But the place was hoppin'. Busy Bees were scouring the grounds in search of alluring annuals for their flowerbeds and porch urns. From Ageratums to Zinnias, the Market at 5th and Wall has them all. Lobelia and Torenia and Begonia, oh my! Vendors were pushing their perennials too, but the baskets and flats were where it was at. Burgeoning blossoms abounded.

Speaking of perennials, the tulips I got from Holland a few years ago sprouted in my little back garden...and were quickly eaten by rabbits. So the other day I headed out to the local hardware store in search of hare remover. Something to repel those confounded cottontails before they devoured the bulbs that haven't shot up yet. If Handy Andy recommended a toxin, so be it. Luckily for the little Leporidae, Hardware Hank endorsed Liquid Fence instead. An all-natural product made from organic ingredients that's enviro-friendly, biodegradable and not harmful to humans or animals.

Anyone ever use this stuff before? The label says its guaranteed to keep varmint out of the area applied to, but will leave a "strong odor" until it dries. I gave the jug a few pumps and thought, "Not pleasant, but not so bad." At first, I was worried the stuff wasn't going to be powerful enough. Silly me. I doused every plant in the garden and then hit up the ones behind the house, under the kitchen windows. Standing in the middle of the yard is where the rancid tang overcame me. Don't know why there was a delay, but it sure was a wallop when it hit. I was actually stunned by the stink. I could taste it in my mouth. I honestly considered alerting the neighbors before someone called Public Health. I figured the main ingredient must be something like fermented bear urine. Rusty fluid taken from a 900lb. grizzly upon his first Spring whizz after a long hard hibernation and a last Fall meal of 5 salmon, a dead squirrel and one small caribou. I looked to the label to see that my guess was off. The primary components of this concoction are garlic and "putrescent egg solids." Believe me, it smells much worse than it sounds. They need to start using this stuff in hostage situations. Once the room is filled with this potent potpourri, nary a shot will be fired.

Find your own local Farmers Market here. Oh yeah, Liquid Fence rocks. I haven't seen a single furry interloper since.

An American Revolution

The difference of length in feet between Henry David Thoreau's

Walden Pond cabin and a 2007 Chevy Suburban.

The Suburban is longer.

(Taken from this month's Yankee Magazine.)

Check Please!

In the same vein as the last post, here's another unconventional surgery story that made headlines this week.

An unidentified man ran into a bustling London eatery, attempting to gain access to the kitchen. He was initially blocked by staff but was able to enter a second work area; where he grabbed a butcher's knife and began "slashing himself across the wrists and groin." The chap then proceeded towards the dining area where, according to patron Stuart McMahon, "Everyone was screaming and running out as he jumped on a table, dropped his trousers and popped his penis out. Then he cut it off. I couldn't believe it."

Why the man chose this pizzeria is unknown. But the room was full of customers enjoying their own cocktails at the end of the London Marathon. Maybe the idea just came to him. The audience did not applaud the man's surreal Teppanyaki swordsmanship either. “There was blood everywhere. Everyone ran out of the place.”

Even in his half-cocked state, the constables were forced to use tear gas to bring the fellow down. But they are credited for grabbing the dude's wiener off the floor and throwing it on ice. Since the guy had no ID, Scotland Yard could only tell us that he is 35ish, Polish and "not a well boy." The man was rushed to the hospital where they immediately began the procedure to re-attach his tallywhacker. The Royal College of Surgeons confirms this was the first time that anyone in the UK has had their penis sewed back on.

Dr. Rosenrosen, fresh from this weekend's screening of Vaginal Cholecystectomy, has told TMZ.com that "a detachable penis is a phalacy."

Whoa Doc, you just say 'natural orifice'?

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Evidently, the way to a woman's gallbladder is through her...vagina.

The NY Times is reporting that Doctors have successfully removed a patient's gallbladder by passing instruments through her vajayjay rather than cutting through her belly. Dr's say the technique "will cause less pain and scarring" by "eliminating the need to cut through abdominal muscles, a major source of pain after the surgery."

The surgeon who performed the procedure, Dr. Marc Bessler, was quoted as saying: “Going through a natural orifice, the mouth or rectum or vagina, to get into the abdomen and do an operation, is being excitedly worked on by a whole lot of people." And Dr. Bessler is giddy as a schoolgirl. He even plans to show video of the surgery at a conference in Las Vegas this Sunday. Dr. Rosenrosen is bringing chips. Party on.

These excitable specialists have even formed their very own professional organization called, the Natural Orifice Surgery Consortium for Assessment & Research, or NOSCAR. No kidding. Their goal: to make surgery less and less invasive. And sticking specialized surgical stainless steel up a person's who-ha, grabbing an internal organ and pulling out, seems to qualify as "less invasive". It's rumored that Kyle Busch has already signed on as spokesperson for the group. I think he should have read that contract a little more carefully.

The article also mentions this equally fleshy fact: "Interest in this idea heightened after doctors from India made a video in 2004 showing an appendix being taken out through a patient's mouth." I just hope there is no need for me to have my tonsils removed any time soon. Although, the other day, someone did request that I pull my own head out of my ass.

God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

November 11, 1922 - April 11, 2007

I Want A New Drug

In case you haven't heard about Keith Richards' latest act of total rock n' rollness, let me fill you in. In a Tuesday interview with British music mag NME, Grandpa Keith copped to sniffing a foreign substance. From a guy who's as famous for his drug use as his guitar playing, this should be no startling admission. Except, in this case, the substance in question would be his English dad, Bert, who passed away in 2002.

"The strangest thing I've tried to snort? My father. I snorted my father. He was cremated and I couldn't resist grinding him up with a little bit of blow. My dad wouldn't have cared; he didn't give a shit. It went down pretty well and I'm still alive."

How disturbingly Freudian. I wonder if he followed it up with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. No comment yet from mum Doris. But yesterday, Keith's "people" were all over it. A Rolling Stones spokesperson issued a damage control statement saying: "It was an off the cuff remark, a joke, and it's not true. File under April Fool's joke." In an email to MTV, Richards' manager tried to laugh it off saying it was "said in jest...Can't believe anyone took [it] seriously."

I don't know about that. In the same article, Richards talks about his worst drug experience: shooting heroin that, unbeknownst to him, was laced with strychnine. "I was totally comatose but I was totally awake. I could listen to everyone, and they were like, 'He's dead, he's dead!', waving their fingers and pushing me about, and I was thinking, I'm not dead!" He declared the Arctic Monkeys & Bloc Party "rubbish" that in his days "wouldn't even get support billing for a Donny Osmond gig." And talks about his disappointment at the end of his 10 year run at the top of the Celebrity Death Pool. Although colorful, Keith's comments all seemed candid and honest.

Since the story became instant blog fodder, NME has issued their own statement regarding Richards' avowal, saying the remarks were "no quip, but came about after much thinking." Said interviewer Mark Beaumont: "He didn't offer the information, I had to ask him a couple of questions to get the information out of him. He didn't come straight out with that."

We will probably never know if if ol' Keef really did toot his departed dad's cremains or not. Personally, I suspect the legendary substance abuser did it; and then went out and really partied. While he may no longer be #1 in the Death Pool, this half of the Glimmer Twins may have a new ranking to make his daughters proud: the most shocking moment in rock & roll history. What do you think VH1?

Sunny Side Up

No foul play here. Who's got egg on their face now, Equinox! Although, I must admit, it took a lot longer to do than eggspected. I've got a good yolk for 'ya: Where do you find a chicken with no legs? ...Where you left it.

Even Steven

Finally, the Vernal Equinox! From the Latin ver (meaning spring) veraequus (equal) and nox (night). I've been waiting for this day since I saw it on my desk calender about, oh...Monday. Merry Ostara to all the pagans in the hizzle. I trust the Teutonic goddess of spring and the dawn finds you well. Happy Spring to the rest of us!

Ahhh, the first day of spring, total balance. Equal amounts of day and night. It's actually kind of cool. The one day where the sun is directly perpendicular to Earth's axis, hitting our planet at its celestial equator. The sun rises at exact east, lights our world for precisely 12 hours and sets at exact west. Ebony and ivory in perfect harmony. Oh wait, I meant these guys.

And the coolest thing about the Vernal Equinox? It's the one day where you can balance an egg on it's end. That's right. All those school kids you passed squatting in groups on the sidewalk over lunch today weren't burning ants. They were testing the forces of gravity, the wonders of physics and the magical power of the Equinox.

According to Snopes.com, "the Chinese are thought to have originated the practice of standing eggs on end this day. Just as the equinox symbolically restores balance to the world by signalling its rebirth after a season of darkness, the equinox literally balances the day by dividing it into equal portions of darkness and light. If the symbol of fertility (eggs) could be balanced during a day equally divided between day and night, this was the sign that all nature was in harmony."

I like the concept. But in actuality, you can balance an egg on any day of the year. You just need to find the egg's center of gravity, not our world's. It requires considerable patience and determination, but it's do-able. And I think this same equidistant stuff happens again later in the year. We call it the Autumnal Equinox that time around. So enjoy today for what it is, a new day. And know that each one after this, will be a little brighter.

(Snopes)

Tail Grab

The effects of global warming are unceasing; reaching every corner of our globe and altering daily life in ways I would have never thought. Thank goodness for wake-up calls like this one from Metro.co.uk to keep me abreast of environmental essentials such as this:

Brothel owners in Bulgaria are blaming global warming for staff shortages. They claim their best girls are working in ski resorts because a lack of snow has forced tourists to seek other pleasures. Petra Nestorova, who runs an escort agency in Sofia, said: 'We have hired students, but they are temps and nothing like our elite girls.'

Conceivably, climate change is responsible for poor business in Bulgaria's bordellos. Snow starved vacationists are heading to bunny hills off the mountain. Tsunamis are raging, ice caps are melting, and the head harlots aren't happy their loosing Lev. Understandable. We all know how hard it is to train in temps. Student temps no less. Although, I think the Bulgarians might need to tweak their study abroad program a bit. Does Travelocity let you add "hooker" to you ski vacation package yet? I bet that roaming Gnome knows.

"According to a new U.N. report, the global warming outlook is much worse than originally predicted. Which is pretty bad when they originally predicted it would destroy the planet." - Jay Leno

The Hole Truth & Nothing Butt

Things seem to have taken on a serious and surprising cheerless mood around here. Sorry for the downer posts. I really didn't mean to sound preachy either. To be honest, I watch The Soup on E! almost every week. But the celebrity worship does bother me. And the stuff with BS and ANS and the media was bumming me out. And that lady on the bridge freaked me out...a lot. It wasn't the first time I've had to deal with that scenario either. It was the first time not knowing anything about the person though. It was the first time since becoming a father as well. I really do look at life differently now. But I'd like to stay away from sermonising here. At least until we're closer to Nov. 2008.

I need to get back to the important stuff, e.g. Everest, cake decorating and cow farts. I was going to mention something about Al Gore's Nashville mansion using 20x more electricity and natural gas than the standard American household. Apparently this type of info is public and the Gore home paid over $30K in power bills last year. They used more energy in the month of Aug. than your average family uses in a year. But something more interesting happened last night, so you can look that up yourself.

I was returning to the living room when my wife reached out her hand to drop something in mine. "Lovely, she's sending me 'kisses'" I thought. Nope. Instead, she dropped a grayish-blue pellet of fluff, entwined with a pair of tell-tale hairs, into my palm. (No, not those hairs you dirty bird.) "Look what Paige just picked up off the floor and handed me," she said with a look of peevishness. I knew what it was at once; a ball of lint. Well, more precisely, a pill of belly button lint that had somehow escaped my own navel. Obviously, my wife has seen my little button bunnies enough to know what it was herself. She wasn't exactly charmed by the find.

I have a huge belly button. I'm not kidding. It's cavernous really. But I am not ashamed. That's just how it is. I have the Bat Cave on my tummy. Of course you couldn't actually park the Batmobile there. But I could probably position a Matchbox sized PT Cruiser inside if I really tried. Regardless, it's the stuff that often emerges from the depths of my umbilical scar that got me thinking: where does it all come from? I was astonished to find the array of research that's been done on the subject. The most comprehensive of which, was done in 2001, by Dr. Karl Kruszelnicki of the U of Sydney. Here's the lowdown on lint:

• Belly Button Lint (BBL) is made up of stray clothing fibers mixed with dead skin and strands of body hair.
• Contrary to popular belief, BBL migrates up from underwear, rather than down from tops. This is a result of the frictional drag of body hair on underwear, which is upwards.
• Women find less BBL because of their finer, shorter body hair. Older men experience it more because of their coarser and more numerous hairs.
• Navel lint's characteristic blue-gray tint is the averaging of the colors of fibres present in clothing. Often the same color of lint you find in your dryer trap.
• Pierced navels rarely harbor BBL.
• Your "Happy Trail" does have something to do with BBL levels.

More importantly, these little accumulations happen to most everyone, are entirely harmless and require no corrective action. Whew! My research also led me to the site of Graham Barker, the Guinness World Record holder for the largest collection of navel lint. All his own and gathered daily for the past 23 years. Impressive. Check out the sample pictures. I also learned about the art of Omphaloskepsis: contemplating one's own navel in aid to meditation. And, apparently, becoming its own religious movement. Not as impressive.

So there you have it. The ins and outs of belly button lint; with a little extra fluff.

Heartfelt

Just yesterday I said that I didn't feel a need to discuss Britney Spears; but I have to do it again. Although it's Brittney related, it's not exactly about her. It's really about Craig Ferguson. If the name doesn't ring a bell, he's the blithe Scotsman who host's CBS's, aptly named, Late Late Show, with Craig Ferguson.

If you do know him, you may also know that Ferguson doesn't script his opening monologues. He picks a topic from the day, and as they say in the biz, riffs of it. It's all improv. I just happened to hear this fact on talk radio a few weeks ago. On Monday night, however, he delivered a slightly different kind of commentary than his audience is used to. It was funny, and there were jokes, but it was pretty serious. Very serious really. And I was surprised, and impressed, with what he chose to do.

If you've ever seen the Late Late show, you know that Ferguson can hit hit comedic targets fairly hard. And, like with most late night host, Britney Spears was a frequent mark. You would also know that Ferguson doesn't hide the fact that he's an alcoholic (who's on his 15th year of sobriety). In Monday's address, rather than starting out the show with a zinger about Britney's chrome-dome or 24hr. rehab stay, he mostly talked about himself, his own troubles with substance abuse and his struggles with recovery. He said that his main source of support is talking with others who share his problem. "They are very easy to find" he quipped. "Right there near the very front of the phone book." Before that, he described the time he prepared for his own death, on Christmas morning, a decade and a half ago. He joked that alcohol actually saved his life that day because he ended up drunk, forgetting his plans. He started rehab a few months later.

So how does Britney Spears enter the picture? After seeing photos of the newly exposed pop-star, Ferguson declared that he couldn't make jokes at the expense of the "vulnerable." He also verbalized concern that she may be dealing with the same kinds of issues he has faced himself.

"For me, comedy should have a certain amount of joy in it," Ferguson said. "It should be about attacking the powerful - the politicians, the Trumps, the blowhards...going after them. We shouldn't be attacking the vulnerable. I think my aim's been off a bit." Ferguson also added, "Now I'm not saying Britney is alcoholic, I don't know what she is , alcoholic or not, but she clearly needs help."

Comedians are always claiming that those they offend just aren't "in on the joke." The media and paparazzi don't really seem to care who gets hurt in their search for what they consider news. I applaud Craig Ferguson for drawing a moral line, making himself so vulnerable, for reaching out to Britney, and for reaching out the rest of us as at the same time.

It's about 13 minutes, and worth the time to watch for youself.

Brit-Brit's Hair Has Its Own Web Site

You know, I really wasn't planning to say anything about Britney Spear's latest "oops". By now, I'm sure everyone has heard about, and probably seen, the events that transpired over the weekend. For me, it's like the Anna Nicole Smith story: sad. Now, I really don't know these people from Adam, but who could have imagined that K-Fed would end up looking like the most stable parent? It just seems to me that we are watching Britney Jean Spears come unwrapped; and it doesn't seem right. It's not a movie or music video; it's real life. She's a real person and a real mother of 2 young children. I know she keeps putting herself in front of the flashbulbs, but still. This isn't entertainment.

I don't understand the obsession with celebrity that seems to permeate every aspect of American culture. It's nothing new, I know, but it seems to be running wild. I think it affects the celebrities just as much as the celebri-wannabes too. Usually not for the positive. People seem to become addicted to the spotlight and do what they have to to stay in it; for better or worse. And we want to watch them. Sometimes, for the worst. Why do we "celebrate" these people to the extent we do? Why do we watch E.T. and Access Hollywood rather than the Evening News? Why do actors get $100K gift bags for 3 minutes of "work"? Or a new Maserati for showing up to a club opening? Why doesn't everyone know who Kimberly Oliver is? She didn't get a Maserati. Oh, don't get me wrong, I had to look her up myself. Same with Muhammad Yunus? It's shameful, I know. I'm embarrassed. But then again, the awards ceremony that honors our country's educators isn't incessantly hyped for 2 months and then broadcast on ABC, is it?

This illustrates my point about all the lusting over the beautiful people quite well. Check this out. It's billed as "The Ultimate Britney Spears Experience," as brought to us by Esther of Esther's Hair Studio. You know, the site of Britney's makeover. Apparently, the beautician has teamed up with Britney's hair and the pair have launched their own web site. For a mere $1,000,000.00, you could be the proud owner of, not just the the teen-queen's discarded split ends but also the razor she used, the empty can of Red Bull she was drinking and the Bic lighter she left behind. Unless there's competition. In which case, the souvenir goes to the highest bidder. And People are interested. I really don't think that she'll snag the million, but I wouldn't be surprised if she got more than my year's salary. Maybe even a few years worth. After all, it is "a piece of history that can't be duplicated". Who could resist? I see Brits hair opening for the Virgin Mary grilled cheese at a State Fair near you very soon.

Solemn

I had to dial 911 yesterday afternoon.

When I first started this whole blog thing, I mentioned that my office window provides me a view of the Robert St. Bridge as it spans the Mississippi River here in downtown Saint Paul. I'm a social worker for the county. Although I was on the job, my call was not exactly work related.

While packing things up for the day, I noticed a person on the bridge. It's a busy overpass and pedestrian traffic is common. But this person had stopped in the middle of the bridge; at it's highest point. And he stayed there, looking down at the water, for a very long time. Occasionally, he would lean over the cement barrier. It was almost chest high. But he would quickly back off and then pace the same 10 or so feet of sidewalk. He was dressed in a big parka with the hood drawn tightly around his face. I watched him for some time. A pattern soon became alarmingly evident. He would lean over the edge, back off, pace and lean over again; each time a little further. It was not typical sightseeing behavior. I started feeling very uncomfortable with the scene that was unfolding before me. Then one time, he leaned over the ledge and stayed there. Instead of jumping back, he lifted his left leg to the top of the rail and raised himself up; but fell back to the sidewalk after a few seconds. Those were a horrifyingly tense few seconds.

I placed a call to the Sheriff's deputies, who are stationed in our building, to let them know someone may be in need of help. When the man got his knee over the ledge a second time, I called 911.

Police and Fire vehicles arrived in less than 3 minutes. They blocked traffic from both directions and slowly made their way to the man in the parka. He stood very still the entire time. A short conversation took place and he quietly, and unassisted, took a seat in the back of one of the cruisers.

If, for whatever reason, you find yourself entering a nursing facility in Ramsey County (MN) and are under 65 years of age, it's more than likely that you will get a visit from me. Most folks are surprised at how many younger adults are admitted to such facilities. It's an unfortunate fact that many people don't know about until they, or a loved one, are facing the reality of it themselves. If it's happening to you, and we're meeting under these circumstances, your probably not having a great month. Tragically, I have met many (way to many) individuals who have attempted suicide and lived. Often times, they can't walk, or talk, remember their name, or breath without the aid of a machine. The thought of actually witnessing someone commit the act, made me sick to my stomach. I was literally shaking while on that call to the police. I was so thankful they arrived so quickly.

This morning, one of our Deputies stopped by my desk. He thanked me for the call and told me that the person, who was actually a woman, admitted that she was, in fact, trying to throw herself off the bridge.

Life is complicated. I truly hope that she is thankful the police arrived too.

Trouser Snakes On a Plane

This past Friday, a 66 y/o German tourist was arrested at Manila's Ninoy Aquino International Airport before he caught his flight back to Frankfurt. The Philippine Daily Inquirer reports that Hans Juergen Oskar von Naguschewski (♪ His name is my name too.) is scheduled to appear in court today, facing allegations of "alarm & scandal" and "acts of lasciviousness."

Apparently, so irked by security's request to submit to a second x-ray scan, a disgruntled Hans Juergen Oskar von Naguschewski chose to drop trow before proceeding through the machine another time. Security, however, did not find the bare-skinned German's antics amusing. Hans Juergen Oskar von Naguschewski was quickly collared and charged with "public scandal".

The airport's Assistant General Mgr. for Security told reporters that Hans Juergen Oskar von Naguschewski triggered the alarm on his first pass and the gate agents were only following policy. "He must have been annoyed that he was asked to walk through the X-ray twice so he took off his pants." The Inspector Clouseau-like Asst. GM also stressed that "What we are doing is being done and implemented as standardized international regulation in all international airports in the world."

Hans Juergen Oskar von Naguschewski has already appeared on Filipino TV apologizing for the incident; saying that he "did not understand the procedure." I'm sure he's plenty sorry too, because Herr von Naguschewski was transported from the airport directly to a police detention center where he will be held until his trial. If convicted, Hans Juergen Oskar von Naguschewski faces six months to a year in a Filipino prison. For his sake, I hope he doesn't get too "annoyed" with his cell mates.

Haute Couturegasm

Food, home and personal product giant Unilever (Axe, Dove, Slim-Fast, Ponds, Hellmann's & Vaseline) released the results of a new female sex study just in time for Valentine's Day. Apparently, when pitting sex against clothes, what women really want...is the clothes.

1000 ladies, from 10 US cities, were surveyed. More often than not, the group said they would give up sex for 15 months in exchange for a wardrobe full of new threads. 2% were willing to go a full 3 years for the same offer.

61% felt it would be worse to give up their favorite item of clothing than to go for a month without giving it up to their partner. Which isn't all that surprising, since on average, the women had been paired with that particular piece of clothing for 12.5 years - a full year longer than any romantic relationship they've had.

Not sure why this guy was was involved, but the survey included 2 cents from the Queerest Eye of them all, Carson Kressley: "Some people say clothes make the man, but the right clothes can even replace him." Thanks for the pearls C.K.

At least the passion isn't all gone. Almost three-quarters, 70% of the women surveyed, believe in love at first sight. Oh wait, that would be when recognizing that absolutely appropriate article of apparel for the first time. Only 54% were confident that they could spot the right fella. And for the ones who reckon they did? Almost half of the ladies reported that their favorite frock was more reliable than their man in making them feel "confident" and "sexy".

I'm sure this is news to some and long suspected by others. Personally, I say it's a sad state of affairs. Although I am happy to know that women can finally come out of the closet.

The Super Bowl Muffle

A few weeks ago we had a cold snap that kept us around 0 for a few days. I thought that -17 wind chill was crisp. This morning, the actual temperature is -17. The w/c: -34. Public schools stayed open, but many Twin Cities charter schools are closed today. Actually, the bus company that provides service to these schools requested it. Many of their buses run on bio-diesel. Apparently, at these temps, the fuel can turn to gel; ruining engines and potentially leaving bus loads of benumbed schoolchildren stranded on the road; or worse, at the bus stop. It was probably a good move.

Even though -17 is Siberia-like cold, it's probably nothing compared to the chilly reception #8 is going to get when he returns to the Windy City. I can't even say anything more about the game.

Although, I do wonder if Prince would have dropped as many balls?

I read a good joke in the Chicago Tribune this morning: A Bears supporter was driving home from the game when he spotted a Colts fan walking along the road. For fun, he swerved towards him, veering away just in time. Though he was certain he missed the guy, he heard a loud thud. The Bears fan glanced in his mirrors but didn't see anything. "What was that?" he asked his friend in the back seat. "I thought I missed that Colts fan." "You did" replied his friend, "But I got him with the door."

Bear Down