My To-Do List

We all have to go sometime.  Where you ask?  To work?  To the bathroom?  To that wedding of a friend we really can’t stand?  Jury duty perhaps?  Shopping for evil things like celery?  Well, not quite.  I mean we all have to “go” sometimes, as in die, pass away, ascend to that great amusement park in the sky.  

Before I do though, there are a few things I’d like to get the chance to try.  Yes, I could just call it my bucket list, but I may get sued and sent to Shawshank prison (yes, that’s a really bad double Morgan Freeman reference) and while I would love to travel to Maine, I was thinking of slightly nicer accommodations when I get there.  So anyway, here is my bucket water pail list.

*  Shoot an old fashioned cannon – I’m not quite sure when my desire to do this appeared, but I can’t wait to get to try this.  In a forest or a desert or a big clearing somewhere, I just want to load and fire a cannon and watch the cannon balls fly.  The target I’ll be shooting at, you ask?  Bowling pins, granted they’ll be a few football fields away, but it might just be the best thing to hit the game of bowling since the Wii came along.

*  Walk into a bar and have everyone call my name -  Now I don’t mean literally walk into a bar, as in collide with it, although that would probably get more people calling out to see if I’m ok.  I mean walking into an eating or drinking establishment and having everyone shout my name.  In fact, I’ve wanted this one for so long that I’d even answer to them calling out someone else’s name.  Except for Sue.  I do not want to have to answer to Sue.

*  I’d like to return the denim overall back to fashion prominence -  No, we’re not all farmers, railroad engineers  or construction folk (to be as absolutely stereotypical as I can), but who can argue with pants and shirt in the same article of clothing?  And let’s face it, calling them overalls instead of a Phirt sounds infinitely so much better. 

*  At the same time, I’d also like to see the fedora make a comeback -  (and really, how great would it be to see a bunch of fedora topped people in overalls walking around) Sure people like Jason Mraz wear one, but I mean having men in general don them with their daily work attire or for social events or for just going out on the town or for engaging in infidelity (ok, that last one may have been inspired by watching too much Mad Men lately).  I’ve been working on a slogan for bringing fedoras back, but the best I’ve come up with so far is “A plethoras of fedoras,” and I’m pretty sure the plural of plethora isn’t even a word.

* Flip an egg in the pan and actually not puncture the yolk.  Not too incredibly much to say about this one, but really, I’ve been trying to perfect the egg flipping thing since Junior High. It’s time.

*  Go to Graceland – Nothing too fancy about this one.  I just want to go to Graceland.  And sing “It’s Now or Never” in a full Elvis 1970s concert jump suit.  Complete with karate moves.  And giveaway scarves to soak up my perspiration (because that word sounds so much better than sweat).  But that’s all.  Like I said, nothing too fancy.

*  Bring a new phrase into the national and cultural lexicon.  Right now the two front-runners are “Harsh my Vibe” and “Cool Peeps.”  Here is an example of each: “Man, Facebook keeps harshing my social networking vibe every time they disable my profile.” And “I had a bacon and cheese omelet for breakfast.  It was cool peeps!”  Yes, obviously I am still taking suggestions…

*  Sit in a balcony and heckle – While this one sounds cruel, I’d really be doing it in homage to the Muppets’ Waldorf and Statler.  I’ve been working on some canned comments to yell in anticipation of the big event, but every time I practice them, I get threatened.  At least up in a balcony, there’s some safety from being harmed.  Unless of course you’re Abraham Lincoln…

When The Coffee Is Cold And The Donuts Are Stale.

That title really doesn’t mean anything, but it sounds kinda deep and therefore might get you to read whatever it is I’m about write.  Though telling you that up front kind of defeats the purpose…

!  I had the weirdest sensation last night as I was trying to fall asleep.  The sheep were counting me, but they started getting really frustrated when they kept having to start over at 1 every time.  I guess they didn’t realize it was such a bhaahd idea…sorry, that one deserves an apology.

!  When someone figures out what Elton John is singing about in "Honky Cat," will you please contact me at I.do.not.understand.a.single.lyric.that.bernie.taupin.ever.wrote@confused.com? Thanks in advance.

!  If I could be a superhero, I would want my super power to be a great metabolism so I could be a foodie and not have to pay the price physically.  Metaboman has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

!  I like to speak metaphorically and rhetorically.  I call it metorically and the best thing about it is that I never really have to make sense and when I ask questions, I don’t have to wait around for it to be answered.

!  John Wayne wore a hairpiece, which I think is just as bad as Kenny Rogers and Burt Reynolds having plastic surgery, or having ribs that weren’t slow smoked for 8 hours.  Although, you really couldn’t tell that John Wayne was wearing one…Yes, Misters Rogers and Reynolds, that’s a burn!!

!  My friends think it’s so weird that there is an earthquake that shakes the table causing us to have to start our Jenga game over EVERY time I am about to pull out the block that will make the tower fall.  Boy, that is odd…

!  So, I've been driving the same truck for almost 5 years and still can't find the cupholder without looking. I hate when you can't find the right hole and there’s all that fumbling around...that's what she said.

Time For Some Mad Rhyming Skillz Skills

Though not everyone celebrates all the high questionable holidays you can find on the internet (Hi Kat!!!), I am celebrating this one.  Today is Bad Poetry Day.  When I saw that it was, I got all aflutter (which has to be the dumbest word ever invented, well next to turkey bacon, that is).  I do bad poetry all the time!  Why just 2 blog posts ago I actually dabbled in awful poetry with my ode to Match Game, my personal chicken soup for the soul.

So, what better way as a wannabe writer to celebrate Bad Poetry Day than by writing…you guessed it, an 1100 word dissertation about how you should not be able to see the bottom of Porta-Potties when inside of them, especially at public functions like fairs and sporting events where there is really good food because you’ll lose your appetite faster than Lindsay Lohan lost her virginity…or credibility, your pick.  Ok, I’m kdding.

So, here is some bad poetry.  Some written before, some brand new.  I’d offer prizes if you picked which was which, but I don’t want to.  Enjoy the bad poetry…

Facebook
Facebook, Facebook, why do you dislike me so?
You disable my account as often as that of my friend Beau.
It is because I comment too much, or like to write on your walls?
Tis better I say, than writing on bathroom stalls.
I find it ironic that “I Can’t Live Without You by Nilsson” is playing as I type this.
That has no bearing on my poem, but it’s my poetic license.
On your site, I can talk to my long lost friends, much to my delight.
But then you disable me, in the middle of the night.
Perhaps I misunderstood what social networking means.
To you, I guess it’s only worth a hill of beans.
As soon as this is seen, I’m sure I’ll be disabled again.
And then I’ll be forced to create another profile that ends in “Christelman.”

Ode To Match Game
I love watching Match Game, that isn't so lame. Though some of your panelists were not very tame. There was Richard Dawson, always in the mood. That is until he joined the Family Feud. 

And there was Brett Somers and Charles Nelson Reilly. They both could say just one thing, to make you go smiley (bear with me, I don't have a lot to work with here). 

Dumb Dora got her blank stuck in a jar. You always had to be careful to not take it too far. On a card your answer you would quickly scribble. The only word I can think to rhyme with that is dribble. 

The contestants would hesitate to say something dirty. Though Gene Rayburn would try by getting so flirty. With his long thin mic he'd laugh and he'd ask. After all, that was this man's task. 

The panel was always so hip and so bold. Which is remarkable because they also were old. I can imagine they'd party with shag carpets and wine. They were so cool, almost before their time. They had great sayings and lots of word tricks. Especially on Match Game 76.

But alas, Gene Rayburn I'm not, that much is true. But I'll fill in the blank, if you'd give me a clue. Then maybe for once our answers would jive, even though your panelists are no longer alive...

Barry Manilow
Hi Mr. Banilow.  Yes, I am quite a Fanilow.
This One’s for You and all that you do
I like your music in a bar, I like your music from afar.
I like Mandy even more than I like cotton candy
No, I can’t smile without you, that much is true.
I’d like to take a weekend in New England
But when there wouldn’t be able to stop that song you’re singin
Although you didn’t write I write the songs,
Someone other than you singing it would just be wrongs (see, with the “s” at the end it guarantees it being bad poetry)
Then of course there is my favorite - Copacabana
Which is known from here to Japana
It looks like we’ve made it so I will wrap up this little ode
And then I will head right on down the road
So Mr. Manilow, please keep on singing
Even if doing so makes other’s ears keep ringing

Haiku Schmaiku
Syllables in five
I would rather speak in jive
Ok, that’s enough

A Love Affair With Cheese and Bacon
Cheese and Bacon
There is only one thing I can say
I must have you every single day
Not doing so gives me a rash
I am not sure what rhymes with rash
On you both, I would spend all my cash.
Hey, I just found a rhyme for rash
One is from a pig, the other from a cow
I’d like to merge the two, but am not sure how
Together your flavors would be exquisite
This is a subject I would like to revisit
So, my arteries I allow you to harden
I just wish I could grow you in my garden

Crazy A$$ Jedi
A poem about you will I write
Nothing but a Muppet you are
Gonzo’s voice you possess
Small you appear to me
Taught many a Jedi you have
Yes just talking backwards I am
This poem, sucks? (Ok stole that line from my FAVORITE movie)

Happy Bad Poetry Day!  I really hope you also do not celebrate it this way.  Oh look, another rhyme...

Screwing Up The Average…

Ok, I realize that by posting this week after posting last week that I am screwing up my average, but I’m going to give it a try anyway.  The only problem is that the idea bin was kinda empty today, save for a few cobwebs, half a piece of chicken and the sounds of crickets chirping…

 Apparently, in the world of fake holidays, today is “The Meaning of Is Day.”  That’s all fine and dandy until I realized that if I can’t explain the Star Wars universe to two 6 year olds then there is no way I stand a chance of explaining the meaning of is.  It’s like trying to conceptualize how long infinity is, what happens after we die or what makes bacon so delicious.  Or, where babies come from, as I was asked by Lucy just 3 days before LaVerne was born.  I know you’re wondering, so my answer was “wanna go get a Slurpee, or 4?”  So in short, today’s post will NOT be about the meaning of “is.”  Instead, I am going to take the easy way out be really creative and use bullets.  I mean bullet points!  Whoa, my therapist would’ve had a field day wondering what I meant by that.  Close call!

!  Why can’t I ever wake up with a GOOD song in my head instead of a song from one of Elvis’ worst movies?  And why do I tend to wake up with choreography for it as well?

!  What does it mean when someone tells you “I expected so much more out of you…”  Does that mean I owe them money or something?

!  What happens when you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both…and then you are right back where you started from because the bad negated the good, meaning no real change took place.

!  Is it so wrong to want an evil nemesis?

!  Why can I fall asleep within thirty milliseconds of sitting down in my recliner (yes, I have a recliner.  And no, I DO NOT eat at restaurants any later than 4pm…why do you ask) but it takes me an hour to fall asleep in bed?

!  Did anyone else get a cease and desist letter from Danica Patrick, or was that just me?

!  Apparently saying “I’m on Facebook to make influential contacts that might help me get a new job” is not the same as job searching.  Who knew?

!  Does eating too much bacon mean I am more susceptible to contracting the swine flu? 

!  Have you ever just started hearing the same phrase repeated in your head over and over, like the way Obi Wan talks to Luke, and wondered if there was a reason you keep hearing it?  For me, it’s not “use the force” or “what did my wife just say to me while I was nodding like an idiot,” but “bacon wrapped cheese.”  Although oddly, it is Sir Alec Guinness’ voice that is saying it…

!  When I call LaVerne my little Winston Churchill, it’s a sign of affection.  I mean she really DOES resemble the former Prime Minister.  Well, without the bowler’s hat, cigars and 250 extra pounds.

!  Why does the thought of bacon flavored Slurpees not disgust me, but actually titillate me?

!  Why does saying the word “titillate” make me giggle like a little school girl?

! And why can’t I say the phrase “giggle like a little school girl” without an evil German accent?

The One Where I Try In Vain To Explain My Absence

Ok, as a few people pointed out yesterday, I have apparently not posted in over a month. I have lots of good reasons for that (well, one good reason and lotsa really crappy ones…but I’m choosing quantity or quality). And since I really couldn’t think of anything to write, I am going to explain them all to you in a nauseatingly detailed fashion…

While I had thunk that my ode to Match Game (and Match Game 76) was my pinnacle of writing, my ascent to the peak of Mt. Everest, except without the snow and death and stuff, apparently not everyone wants to read that post every day for over a month. Lots has happened to keep me from posting. Let’s see, there was the incident I had when Facebook deleted my account for using it too much. Then there was that other incident when Facebook deleted my account for using it too much. There was also that third time where Facebook deleted my account for using it too much. I mean that right there took up about 3 days.

During that time there was also my brief flirtation with the buttermilk pancakes from Denny’s. Or how about my 1.6 hundred (I know that’s not a real number, but I thought the use of the decimal point would lend it the credibility that this post so desperately lacks) visits to Disneyland. Me discovering that link where people post their Lego creations was a time sapper, as was my renewed love of Wii Bowling. Although I think I’ve lamely CLEARLY stated my case for my prolonged absence, there’s more! Act now and you can have TWO clearly stated cases for my prolonged….sorry, that was my ode to the passing of Billy “Act Now and You Can Get Enough For Two Nostrils” Mays.

I discovered Twitter, which ate up some time. Why, it took me an entire week to figure out whether posts are called Tweets or Twitterifications! And speaking of things that end in “cations,” there was that vay-kay I didn’t take this summer, which is why I relived (in my back yard) my trip to Oregon and the Tillamook cheese factory last summer…in real time. My passing out for 5 days after learning that there is a Lobster Ice Cream took up 3 days. Wait, the math doesn’t seem right there…Then my passing out after my dear friend Kat told me how much it was to ship a pint of said ice cream took up another few days.

And speaking of lobster (and bad segues), there was all that time I spent looking at the Lobster Trap Cam online waiting and waiting for a lobster to wander into it. And speaking of online cams (and even more marginally related segues), there was the straight 72 hours I spent watching the Abbey Road Cam counting the times when people tried to reenact the cover of The Beatles’ Abbey Road in the same intersection, which by the way is a very busy intersection! Imagine having this discussion with your auto insurance carrier (que the dream montage)…

“Uh Mr. or Mrs. Auto Agent, I need to report a claim. I completely destroyed the front of my car when I accidentally struck 4 nuns from Argentina reenacting the Beatles’ cover of Abbey Road. Although on a lighter note, I can tell you that the one playing Paul really is dead. And the one playing John was the Walrus. Well ok, at least in size and girth she was…”

It seems like I’m forgetting something though. Lemme think…cheese, bacon, lobster, the Facebook Police, more cheese, doing stupid things,…Oh yeah, the BABY! Yep, I became a father again on July 31st. In addition to Lucy and Ethel, I now have LaVerne. Between diaper changes and feedings and frantically running around screaming “the end is here, the end is here” every time I misplace LaVerne’s pacifier, I haven’t had a lot of time for my hobbies.

So in a 1,000 unnecessary word essay, that is why I haven’t posted anything new here in over a month. And let’s face it, after reading this post, I think we all are in no hurry for me to do another one…