Monthly Archive for February, 2009

Page 3 of 9

Chief of Photography SIL Is So Helpful

Published on February 23, 2009 in Baby Boomer. 0 Comments

We’re shopping for a new TeeVee. SIL – St. Todd De Cubbville, the Chief of Photography of a major metropolitan television station, and co-founder of Dogs With Cones, is going to help install it. All I have to do is fetch things. Mostly Miller beer for him.

He found what he thinks we need.

Nine feet of TeeVee.

I need more than a sizeable tax refund and The Fresh President stimulus package. I need a Octopussy type website to raise that kind of money.

OR, we could run dirty movies and charge the neighbors kids to watch. We do have a window – actually it’s two windows side by side, that are nine feet diagonally. I could face the TeeVee toward the backyard and not be bothered by the the little pervs.

I would have some “short subjects” for the short pervs before the main feature, like in the olden days. We have tons of videotape of the kids and their sports activities. Hours of 6th and 7th grade volleyball and basketball. Hours of 13th birthday parties and 16th birthday parties and senior proms. Christmases, Thankgivings, Moving into College. All unedited.

I need to get those tapes converted to YouTube-able stuff. Classics. I bought a radio controlled car and put the camcorder on the ground and raced the car around it and the dog turds. Classic. Almost Epic. The turds looked like giant brown boulders. My daughter towed me behind Nancy’s Honda Spree on a boudoir chair with tiny metal wheels.

Of course we have every vacation we ever took for a decade on 3/4 inch videotape too.

I must say, I would make a great cinematographer. I shot home video before there was desktop editing. Planning was essential. I always had a opening title shot – often the front of a printed program or a sign. My best opening shot was for Cancun 1988. Title shot was me standing over Cancun 1988 written in the white sand, with an empty bottle of Tequila next to it, garnished with seaweed. 10 seconds of title and then a wave came and washed it out.

Epic.

Classic.

Lucky.

How In The Hell Did I Get Listed On BlogHer.com?

Published on February 23, 2009 in Blogging. 2 Comments Tags: blogher.

BlogHer.com now accepts men, or do they except men? or expect men? I think it’s all of those. BlogHer.com is a giant network of women bloggers. Do I need to paint a picture here people? Estrogen overload.

I tripped over BlogHer.com again when Citizen of the Month wrote about how he wanted to be a presenter at the Big Blog Her Martini Swilling, Man Bashing, Does-this-make-me-look-fat, Chi-Town Confab. He said some women were bothered that a man might be on the program. But then he took the post down. Typical man. Just can’t make up his mind.

I feel very uncomfortable with so much self-promotion about this BlogHer room. First of all, 3/4 of you are not even going to this conference. Why am I blabbing about it to you? It either bores you or make you feel left out, particularly if you are a woman who would like to go, but can’t afford it.

I was confused as to what the original post meant, but I think he was trying to deal with the fact that women were in charge and would be making the decision whether or not he would be allowed to present.

I went BlogHer.com just to see what was up. They now accept men on their blog directory, provided I meet their guidelines, one of which is:

A man whose blogging is of particular quality and relevance to the women who participate in and read BlogHer, as determined by an editor…

Hee. I applied anyway. Joy said they accepted me.

Denise is in charge of the Editorial staff and she and the editors still turn some [men] down for various reasons after they review them. So there Mister!

Men now have a part in BlogHer.com. They didn’t used to have a part. Now they do. Except it’s like when Rotary didn’t accept women, so they had Rotary Wives, and the Lion’s Club didn’t accept women, so they had Lionettes. Jaycees/Jayceettes.

But I think men are still in a probationary period. Still kind of like an auxiliary. Until we are fully represented and have taken our rightful place on top and have ousted the women founders and replaced them with their husbands or boyfriends, BlogHer men might be known as:

BlogHer Himmers
BlogHer Ballers
BlogHer Boys
Barons of BlogHer
BlogHer Tokens
BlogHer Brothers

So why did I want to be listed on BlogHer.com? Because they turned me down once earlier…

I started reading The Joy of Six early on, and Joy and I hit it off and enjoyed each others blogs. One day, she emailed or commented from Joy@BlogHer.com. The name attached was a two name last name. Des Rigatonia, Van Klonpike, you know what I mean.

Huh?

She explained that she worked for BlogHer. Ok, cool, I checked it out and found a seemingly, teemingly, gleamingly, network of women bloggers. I hung out there for a while and subscribed to a few blogs. Since I was new, I thought it would be cool to be on their blogroll.

I emailed Joy and asked to be added.

Joy emailed back something like “NO TESTOSTERONE ALLOWED.”

Actually it wasn’t anything like that. Joy doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. Apparently I wasn’t the first man who asked to be on their blogroll, but I was among the first. The founders hadn’t decided if they were going to allow men to participate in BlogHer.

Joy emailed back that the founders decided having men as part of BlogHer.com didn’t fit in their vision.

To create opportunities for women who blog to pursue exposure, education, community, and economic empowerment.

I pouted for a while, kept reading Joy’s blog until whammo, I read her “about me” and find out her daughter Jory is one of the founders of BlogHer. OMG, how cool is that?

I had stopped visiting BlogHer.com. Women bloggers are too EXTREME. Okay, not all women bloggers are EXTREME all the time, but most of them get EXTREME often. I won’t link to any examples because they don’t link back. Especially to men. PFBBBT.
But now I are one.

I will have to start working on EXTREME.

It pays to be nice an old lady who has a powerful daughter.

UPDATE: Yikes, Citizen of the Month deleted the above references post too. Pretty clever way to build traffic. Post, let RSS send it to subscribers, delete. He did that with his last three posts. Dude, it’s only a blog! Write it and leave it.

An Old Friend Showed Up at My Door in a Package

Published on February 22, 2009 in Baby Boomer, Blogging, Entertainment, Ireland and Writing. 0 Comments

When I was a young lad, my family’s best friends were Rubened. Ruby and Eddie Hodge. Rubened to every one. They even signed their Christmas cards Rubened. Eddie went to a business school to become an accountant and one of the requirements was exquisite handwriting. My Aunt Morna attended the same school and their handwriting was very similar. Eddie always signed all the Christmas cards and correspondence with a big flourish Rubened.
His handwriting fit his personality. Eddie was the anti-accountant outside of work. He was a joke-teller extraordinaire. He always had a joke, some new, some old, some hilarious, some corny. But when Eddie told a joke, everybody laughed.

Heartily.

Including Eddie.
Eddie understood that you weren’t supposed to laugh at your own jokes, but he did. Mightly, and he had a contagious laugh, so the laughter kept going for a few beats more than the joke deserved. Ruby heard the same jokes over and over and over. But she always had a huge smile on her face and giggled at the punch line. She loved seeing Eddie having such a great time.

Today another entertaining friend arrived at my door.

Head Rambles, the book, is like Eddie. I’ve read Grandad’s blog for a couple years. I felt like I knew Grandad personally and laughed out loud at the “most cantankerous auld fellow” and his life in Ireland, with Herself, Sandy, Laughing Boy, K8, and others that wandered in and out of his writing.
He is quite the sportsman too. Regularly taking potshots at passing tourist buses.

The gunfire sounded interesting, so I went down to the village to get the paper. Sure enough, the villagers had caught themselves a tourist bus, and the tourists had tried to take refuge in the church. That was foolish, because everyone knows our church is closed on a Sunday.

Grandad, kept his identity a secret. It must have been difficult for him to actually put his “real” name on the cover of the book. (If that is his real name.)

Like most of us, he slowly revealed parts of his life and his families lives and like most humor writers, seems to have suffered his share of life’s pains.

But mostly Grandad just fires off the top of his head. (Picture that!) Somebody or something is always pissing him off.

I pondered this as I stood there on the doorstep, stark naked. Wouldn’t I look a right prat wearing a hard hat and nothing else? I told him to fuck off, and went back to bed.

‘Who was that?’ says Herself from under the duvet.

‘Those fucking builders you ordered,’ I said as I decided whether to get dressed or not.

‘I didn’t order them. You did. Make us a mug of tea.’

‘Fuck your tea. If you didn’t order them, and I didn’t order them, then who did?’

‘Dunno,’ says Herself, and she went back to sleep. Lazy bitch.

Did I forget to mention that Grandad lives in dream state most of the time? If he called Herself a lazy bitch to her face, I’m sure he would be two balls short of a juggler.

Grandad fancies himself to be a golfer, he practices a lot – usually with Sandy’s turds aimed at the neighbor’s home. This is the blog post that cemented Head Rambles in my RSS feed.

Then I remembered our K8’s idea about using dog turds. So I brought in a pile from outside the gate. They were nicely sun-dried and ripe for driving. All I needed was a target.

Our neighbour put up a rather ugly extension some years ago that blocks part of our view. I always hated that extension. But it made a perfect target.

If anyone is interested, dog turds are much more aerodynamic than pine cones. I could aim straight and true. The neighbours extension now bears a remarkable resemblance to a large Jackson Pollock. It looks a lot better. As long as the wind doesn’t blow from that direction.

Head Rambles is an excellent blog and an excellent book.

I was glad to have an old friend drop by and entertain me again with his tales.

Just that damn bullet hole makes it awkward to turn the pages.

Buy Grandad’s book, he shouldn’t be launching turds at his neighbor’s home. He needs some balls.

28 Things About Spaghetti and Me Meme.

Published on February 22, 2009 in Baby Boomer, Blogging, Food and Health. 3 Comments

Here’s a stolen meme, from Sunday Stealing.

1. Is there anyone of your friends that you would ever consider having spaghetti with? Sure, all of them.

2. Spaghetti in the morning, afternoon or night? Anytime is good, sometimes with balls.

3. What side of the bed do you sleep on? What does this have to do with spaghetti? If I’m in bed, I’m on the right side, if I’m not in bed I’m on the left side.

4. Have you ever taken your clothes off for spaghetti? Once, in band camp.

5. Have you ever had spaghetti in the shower or the bath? Never, that’s silly.

6. Do you watch/read spaghetti? No, I let others do it and tell me about it. Some blogs I read border on spaghetti, but that’s not their main thrust.

7. Do you want someone aggressive or passive in bed? Whaaaa??? Well, it depends.

8. Do you love someone on your blogroll? Yes.

9. Would you choose love or money? Love, money can be devalued. ie: Zimbabwe $20 Trillion is worth US $1.

10. Your top three favorite kinks in bed? Back, neck, and left knee.

11. Has anyone ever gone beyond your personal line of respect spaghetti? Never, I have no line of respect when it comes to spaghetti.

12. Where is the most romantic place you have had spaghetti? Paris, we both had seconds.

13. Where is the weirdest place you have had spaghetti? Lou’s Carnival and Clownlandia

14. Have you ever been caught having spaghetti? Sure! No problem.

15. Ever been to a bar just to get spaghetti? No bar-spaghetti is gross. Have you ever seen their kitchen? Ewww.

16. Ever been picked up in a bar? HAR. never.

17. Have you ever kissed or had spaghetti with someone of the same sex? Of course, all the time. Don’t have to ask me twice.

18. Had spaghetti in a movie theater? No, but helluva an idea. Spaghetti in a bucket. I’d definitely use my fingers.

20. Had spaghetti in a bathroom? Left my share, no doubt about it.

21. Have you ever had spaghetti at work? I think once or twice, in the lunch room.

22. Bought something from an adult store? Yes. It always seems like a good idea at the time, but you get it home and it’ just isn’t the same.

23. Do you own any spaghetti toys? I have a battery powered fork.

24. Does anyone have naughty pics of you or are you on film? Lots. Mostly when I was younger and in better shape.

25. Have you ever had spaghetti with someone and called them the wrong name? Often, but they don’t seem to notice or if they do, they don’t mind.

26. Do you think oral spaghetti constitutes as a form of intercourse? What other kind of spaghetti is there than oral? I am so behind.

27. What’s your favorite spaghetti position? Sitting. Otherwise I get it all over me and sometimes on others.

28. What’s your favorite spaghetti act? Sucking and slurping.

29. Have you ever had spaghetti with more than one person at a time? Regularly. I seldom have spaghetti alone.

30. How many Sunday Stealing players do you think will not post this meme this week? Not nearly enough.

BTW: 19 is missing, I think there is some kind of social taboo connected with that number.

Somebody’s Knocking at the Door, Somebody’s Ringing My Ears

Published on February 22, 2009 in Baby Boomer, Education, Entertainment, Family, Food, Health, Holy Shit! Lookit This!, Money, Research and Technology. 6 Comments

Ooo eee, Baby, open the door…
Baby Boomers and a lot of others never know the Sounds Of Silence. We have tinnitus. Tin-eye-tus, or Tin-it-tus, the organization can’t even agree on how it should be pronounced.

But before we go any further, please play this audio file at the lowest possible volume you can and still be able to be aware of it. This is a mix I did of what my tinnitus sounds like – almost. It’s about 90 seconds long.
Start playing the file and then read on please.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

That’s 24/7 in my head. But others hear a whoosing, or a buzzing/clicking, screeching, tea kettle and many others. Short sound files are here.

I hate a silent room. It’s never silent. I always have the Bells of St. Mary or Tone Loc with me. I’m so lucky that Nancy likes to fall asleep to the noise of the Tee Vee. My tinnitus starts out quiet in the morning and when my head hits the pillow it is raging.

I’m not whining just to whine.

If you know a Baby Boomer that plays the Tee Vee louder than you prefer, or cranks up the audio player in the car for every song, then you might want to take advantage of a free hearing test the next time the hearing aid place offers it.

Oh, he will HATE it, but if you can convince him to go (and it will always be a him, because we Men Boomers are a stubborn bunch) to take the test to prove to you that he doesn’t have a hearing problem that’s good enough. It may be tinnitus or it might be just a hearing lost because those little hairs have migrated from inside ears to the outside.

we gradually lose the hair cells and the nerve cells that lie within the cochlea. The cochlea is the part of the ear associated with hearing sounds of high frequencies. This loss over time might damage the inner ear and the acoustic nerve, causing sensorineural hearing loss.

(Has the sound stopped playing? restart it.)

If you know someone younger that plays their mp3 player so loud you can hear it, suggest they might want to tone it down because it will kill their hearing.

The risk of permanent hearing loss, Portnuff says, can increase with just five minutes of exposure a day to music at full volume. Over time, the noise can damage the delicate hair cells in the inner ear that transform sound waves to the electrical signals that the brain understands as sound.

Wouldn’t you think Apple and other mp3 player makers would recognize that they are killing their long term business by allowing players to destroy the hearing of their target audience? The iPod default setting for maximum volume is 100 decibels, the equivalent of standing next to a pneumatic hammer! Some iPods have been tested as loud as 115 decibels – the same as holding a chainsaw at full throttle.

Here’s a great PSA from the U.K.

And while I’m on the subject? If you know someone who has a hearing loss, don’t assume that just talking LOUDER WILL HELP. Often the person hears the volume, the words aren’t clear. Repeating what you just said is a pain in the butt, we know that, but we want to know what you said. If you aren’t clear if you should speak louder or just slower or more clearly or look at us (for lip-reading) please ask. (I wear hearing aids, but they have done little to mask the tinnitus or improve my hearing.)

We now return you to a medley of old favs:

The Bells are Ringing
The Sound Of Music
Whistle a Happy Tune
Whistle Down the Wind
The Theme From Andy of Mayberry
I’m a Little Tea Kettle

Crank Up The Volume!

UPDATE:
duh…

Created by Train Horns