August 31, 2007
Review:
Wendy's Baconator burger
--
And here we are on the final day of August, staring a big ol’
three-day weekend in the face, and distracted all to hell.
Today’s update is going to be another of those clearing house
deals where I attempt to zero-out my Big Notebook of Fun, so I can start
fresh on the other side.
I hope some of it’s at least semi-entertaining…
-- Yesterday I was planning to
take the youngest Secret to the driving range, so he could knock forty
or so golf balls into the middle of an open field, and needed three
dollars cash. That’s how much a
small bucket costs, you see, and it’s a fairly half-assed operation.
A person can’t go there expecting them to have change, or
anything fancy like that.
I almost never have actual cash anymore, I use my ATM card for almost
everything. And yesterday, like
most days, I had no foldable money.
So I went to a Sheetz convenience store, where they offer ATMs that
don’t charge a fee (“Money For Nothing”), and took out twenty
bucks. But, of course, that still
didn’t solve my problem. If I
went to the driving range with a twenty, they’d probably just laugh in
my face.
I needed to buy something. But
what? I looked around for a sack
of Combos, always a good choice, and (hey!) spotted a display of
Mountain Dew special edition over in the corner.
This one was named Rocket Fuel, or somesuch.
Continue reading here 
August 30, 2007
Hey,
where's my robot with drinks?!
--
I still have a Google map running across what should
be the small of my back, but don’t really feel like focusing on
that again. So what if my body is
producing and shedding poison for no known reason?
Big deal. As Bob Marley
once said, before the tumor took him, “don’t worry, ‘bout a
t’ing…”
-- I need to keep this one short.
Toney and I have a meeting at the middle school in a little
while, and I’ve set myself quite an ambitious schedule for the
afternoon. You’ll notice I
didn’t finish the WVSR Special Report yet, and that’s one of the
items on the docket for Thursday. There
are six items total, and I’m determined to complete them all.
Or whatever.
-- In case you were wondering,
I’m currently in the grips of a powerful Camper Van Beethoven jag.
Specifically the early albums, before they signed with Virgin.
I don’t know how these things manifest themselves, but suddenly
I cannot stop playing the CDs. Cannot,
I say. If I were still working,
I’d probably have to call in sick…
Continue reading here
August 29, 2007
Meat
can make you impotent
--
I don’t know what’s going on here, but I woke up this morning
feeling extra-puffy, mildly disoriented and chilled, and all rashed-up.
Well, I’m not sure it actually qualifies as a rash...
It’s not really a collection of itchy bumps, it’s more like
blisters that cover a lot of ground. I’m
not kidding, I’ve got a freakin’ topographic map of the world on my
body right now.
Anyone want to rub their fingers across the Great Smoky Mountains
?
Yeah, I don’t blame you...
I showed it to Toney earlier, and she yelled, “Gross!
I’m washing our sheets right now – IN HOT!”
Yes, there’s nothing like the deep concern of a loving wife.
And anyway, I don’t think it's scabies or anything (I mean,
seriously). I suspect it’s an
allergic reaction of some sort. Maybe
I was bit by a spider, or I’ve got a tick burrowing its way through my
ass meat, or something?
I spent an hour standing in the middle of a field yesterday, amongst all
manner of insect life, watching the oldest Secret’s soccer practice.
Perhaps one of those little bastards deposited their poison into
me? Maybe I’m coming down with
Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever?!
Continue
reading here
August 28, 2007
Fishing
Derby for Badasses '67
--
Over the weekend my Dad was telling the Secrets about some of the
“bad” things I did as a youngster.
Thankfully, he was selective, and only brought up stories he thought
were funny. Some from that era
are not funny at all, of course, and a few will never be spoken of
again... But he just picked three
or four from the mischievous
category, ones that are safe and can usually be counted on to bring a
chuckle.
When conversation goes in this direction, the “glue on the commode
seat” story is always the first one out of the gate.
I don’t say commode anymore (it’s one of those words, like
underpants, that makes me cringe), but my parents do, and that’s how
the story is known.
When I was in elementary school, the principal called my mother on a
regular basis to tell her about what I’d done this
time. If it hadn’t been the
era of the ten-pound rotary phone, I’d guess my Mom’s work number
had been saved on speed-dial. But
I don’t think speed-dial was invented at the time, so the number was
probably just printed on a laminated card, and propped-up beside the
telephone.
Anyway, my Mom received one of these calls while she was at work one
day, and the principal told her I’d smeared Elmer’s glue all over
the toilet seat, and a little girl had sat in it.
Continue
reading here
August 27, 2007
He
gets a lot of attention
--
My parents returned home yesterday, and there’s reason to
believe the Season of Way Too Much might be winding down.
Yeah, there’s talk of a visit from Sunshine in October, but I don’t
think it’ll happen. She’s the
proverbial boy who cried bitch; she’s planned numerous visits this
summer and backed out of every one of ‘em -- always finding someone to
blame along the way. What’s to
make us believe this one will be any different?
I think we’re going to
West
Virginia
for
Thanksgiving, and God knows who will be piled up here for Christmas.
But all that stuff is a long time from now.
At the very least, the month of September should be normal.
And I’m craving normal. Oh,
I’m craving it real good.
-- It feels weird to have had
visitors, and not be sitting on a notebook full of horror stories.
But that’s the situation. My
parents are pretty agreeable, and go out of their way not to be a pain
in the ass.
Sometimes, in fact, they take it too far.
For instance, if you’re looking for an opinion on what to do
for dinner, you may as well forget it. ‘Cause they ain’t sayin’
nothin’.
Continue
reading here
August 24, 2007
-- Last night my parents
experienced a catastrophic air mattress malfunction.
My dad has a history of back problems, and is very particular about beds
and mattresses, and whatnot. So
they travel with an ancient old air mattress that meets his approval,
and they break it out whenever faced with a questionable
sleeping surface.
We always offer them our bed when they visit, but they never take us
up on it. Probably too many
horrifying visions to deal with… No,
they just fold out the sleeper sofa, and put their air mattress on top
of it. And that does the trick, I
guess.
Until last night, anyway.
They were asleep, my dad was telling me, when something popped and woke
him up. The hell was that?!
He didn’t know, but wondered if the bedsprings were giving way.
He remained very still, and it happened again:
POP! POP POP!!
What in the living crap?!
Continue reading here
August 22, 2007
-- Our Season of Way Too Much
continues today. My parents are
currently en route, and will be staying at Jeff & Toney’s Bed and
Breakfast Inn
and Old Country Saloon through Sunday.
Tomorrow I think we’re going to Knoebels
again, and there are other similar items on the docket as well.
It’s been one of the strangest summers of my ridiculous life...
Nobody can accuse us of not taking advantage of my “time off.”
Oh, we’ve done plenty. But
during all our travels and adventures, there’s always something
nagging and gnawing at the back of my mind:
my, um, employment deficit.
So, it’s been bizarre; almost unreal. We’re
doing many of the things we want to do, but I can’t fully enjoy them.
I’m sort of detached from it all, being there physically, and
somewhere else as well. Know what
I mean? It’s hard to explain...
Last year we didn’t do a damn thing, and felt guilty about it.
And this summer we did a lot, and felt guilty about it.
And so it goes.
Continue reading here
August 21, 2007
-- The scanners started working
again, the crazy person who was hollering about Gates Brown (and who
might’ve been Gates Brown)
had moved on to bother other people, and we were about to enter Hallowed
Ground: Yankee Stadium, the
freakin’ House That Ruth Built.
I gave the vest-wearing Civil War veteran my ticket, he ran an infrared
beam over it, then handed it back. And
I was allowed official entrance.
I’m a complete geek when it comes to baseball history.
I’m one of those guys who still gets pissed when he hears the
words “designated hitter,” and don’t even get me started on
inter-league play... Baseball was
perfect in the 40s and 50s, I think, and hadn’t been completely screwed-up by the time I was a kid in the 70s.
Everything after that? Highly
questionable. Hell, I still view the
Rockies
and
Marlins as phonies; I haven’t yet accepted them as real Major League
baseball teams. Maybe someday,
but not yet. It’s too soon.
So visiting an old stadium with such a rich history, a place so many
iconic players called home, is right up my alley.
I was super-excited to get to our seats, and drink it all in.
Continue reading here
August 20, 2007
-- Steve and I were at K-Mart
yesterday morning before the appointed time, and our bus to Yankee
Stadium arrived exactly as scheduled.
The thing was packed when we climbed aboard, and it didn’t take long
to realize we were dressed inappropriately for the occasion.
Apparently it’s customary to wear a full
baseball uniform, body-type be damned, while attending Yankees
games. Who knew?
Wonder if they make a Jeter in a super-husky?
I’d like to be better prepared next time.
As soon as we were moving, the driver flipped a switch and the various
TV screens around the bus flickered into action.
And we got to watch the Billy Bob Thornton version of Bad
News Bears.
I rented that thing through Netflix a few months ago, and it seemed much
funnier yesterday for some reason. I
was laughing my ass off. On
Saturday I probably would’ve told you it sucked, but by Sunday
afternoon I’d pretty much changed my mind.
Around 10 am
I started hearing the sound of beer cans popping open.
Indeed, the dude across the aisle from me cracked open a Coors
Lite, and continued pounding those babies all
day long. I’m not
exaggerating when I say he probably had upwards of twelve on the bus
alone. And I’m sure he didn’t
stop at the game, either.
Continue reading here
August 17, 2007
-- Toney bought me a new computer
chair today. For the past couple
of years I’d been using an old dining room chair with the back
broken-off, and she hated it. It
was just four legs and an ass-platform, and I don’t even know what
happened to the part you’re supposed to lean against.
I have a feeling it’s in the basement somewhere, or maybe the
garage.
Anyway, she took it upon herself to buy me a new chair, and it’s going
to take some getting used to. Right
now I feel like I’m typing uphill, if you know what I mean.
This deal is slightly lower than the old ass-scaffolding (ass-scaff),
and I’m not sure I care for it.
And how much you want to bet the previous “chair” is already in the
trash? I’m getting a sick
feeling in my stomach, and this time it has nothing to do with the 40
ounces (or so) of Dunkin Donuts coffee sloshing around in there…
-- I’m also having trouble with
email. For some reason Comcast is
flagging everything addressed to thewvsr as spam, and won’t allow it
to drop into my inbox. And this
makes me go grrrr... I
appreciate their spam-filtering efforts, I really do, but they’re
getting a tad overzealous. Ya
know?
This happened once before, and I had to have my webhost contact my
internet provider; my people
talked to their people, and
got everything straightened out.
At that time I also set it up so every Surf Report email is sent to a
second destination, as back-up. But
I’m still not convinced everything is making it to me.
It’s political correctness gone mad! Or
something.
Continue
reading here
August 16, 2007
-- Did
you know that in Canada
milk is sold in bags? Yeah, I didn’t
either. But it’s true.
On Sunday morning I saw Toney’s sister using some sort of plastic
apparatus that holds the milk bag, and turns it into a makeshift
pitcher. From what I gather,
you’re supposed to snip the corner off the plastic sack, place it
inside the housing, and go to town.
You think I’m joking? Here’s
a site dedicated to the Canadian Milk Bag, complete with photographic
evidence. It’s almost like a
foreign country up there.
After we oohed and ahhed at the spectacle of milk being dispensed from a
pouch, everyone hustled downtown again for the Changing of the Guard.
This, of course, happens at Parliament, and reportedly takes
place every morning at 10, weather permitting.
And all I can say is, they sure make a big to-do about a shift change.
At the factory where I used to work folks would just punch-out,
and the new people would punch-in.
There was no formal ceremony, or parade, or anything.
Unless, of course, you count the playful verbal abuse one shift
heaped upon the other, every day. Perhaps
they should’ve set up bleachers and invited in spectators for the
daily Calling of the Faggot? I
just don’t know.
Continue reading here
August 15, 2007
-- On Saturday morning in Ottawa
I went to an ATM to withdraw forty dollars from my checking account.
And two questionable pieces of paper came out, each bearing an
artist’s rendering of Betty White. At
least I think it was Betty White… And
on the back was a rowboat filled with cartoon characters.
The hell, man? Was somebody
playing a trick on me? Even
though I knew it was a ridiculous notion deep-down, part of me didn’t
fully believe this “money” was actually spendable.
From the bank we followed Toney’s sister to a farmer’s market.
There we walked amongst hippies and large dogs wearing bandanas,
and looked at vegetables, and baked goods prepared with something called
spelt flour.
I have no idea what that means, and have little interest in
finding out.
I was really hungry, but afraid to purchase anything at this jamboree of
wire-rim glasses and body hair run amok.
So I just waited in the shade of a tree, my stomach growling and
sweat rolling down my back. A guy
in a booth nearby had a gigantic wok going, and was mixing up something
that smelled like garlic and bad hygiene.
Continue reading here
August 14, 2007
--
As I type this we have no electricity; I’m sitting at the
dining room table using my laptop, and its fancy-pants eBay battery.
I’m not sure what’s going on, but everything groaned to a
halt about a half-hour ago. And
it’s been deader than Kelsey’s nuts ever since.
Toney says there’s a work crew from the power company doing something
in front of Half-Shirt’s house. Who
the hell knows? One of those guys
probably spilled a Dr. Pepper into something important, and the outage
will be classified as “system malfunction,” or another similarly
vague phrase.
Screw it. I’ll just make sure
to hit the SAVE button every few seconds.
Let’s get to the Ottawa
trip,
shall we?
-- On Friday we traveled.
We (Toney) wanted to leave around noon
,
but it was closer to 1:30
before
we finally hit the road. It was
just a few days ago, but I can’t remember exactly why we were delayed.
It probably had something to do with half-assery on someone’s
part. I’m just having a little
trouble recalling the details.
Ahem.
As usual, we got bogged down in so-called road construction on I-81.
I say “so-called” because we never actually saw anyone doing
work on the roads. In fact, we
never saw a single worker or piece of heavy machinery.
They just had lanes coned-off, for no apparent reason.
And this caused me to recite a random sampling of the bad words.
Continue reading here
August 10, 2007
-- This is going to have be
super-quick. We’re supposed to
leave for Canada
around noon
, and in true Jeff Kay fashion, I haven’t done shit.
Heck, I haven’t even brought my duffle bag up from the basement
yet, which is something I do to demonstrate progress
to Toney.
And it’s also a pretty good indicator as to why I was a solid C
student in high school. Pass the
Tangy Taffy.
On a more positive note, I’m drinking a really kick-ass cup of coffee
right now. It’s Dunkin Donuts
brand, the kind you buy at the grocery store and make at home.
How is it so impossibly good? It’s
a question I cannot answer. But
one thing I’m certain about: it
is the yum.
Do any of you have a travel checklist saved to your computer, like I do?
It’s a Word document with everything I need to take with me
when I travel. Whenever I’m
packing for a trip, I just print one out and start checking shit off.
If I don’t, I’ve learned, I forget many things.
Like pants.
Continue reading here
August 9, 2007
-- We’ll be traveling abroad
this weekend. On Friday we’re
driving to Ottawa
to visit Toney’s sister and her family, and to check out their new
house. You know, stuff like that.
Not to be a wet blanket, or anything, but I have a few concerns.
Ahem. At the top of
my list is food. I’ll be damned
if I’m eating Nancy's slimy garlic-marinated seaweed and carrot
casserole for three days straight. I
might have to smuggle in a few boxes of Pop-Tarts, just to maintain.
And, needless to say, they don’t believe in air conditioning.
So there’s that, as well. I’ll
probably need to buy a long-handled crack-swab somewhere.
Wonder if IKEA carries those?
There won’t be an update on Monday either.
So, in case I forget to mention it tomorrow…
We’ll be driving back on that day, and I won’t be able to
post anything new until Tuesday. But
I’ll try to make it up to you folks, with lots of pictures and maybe a
few good stories.
Continue reading here
August 8, 2007
-- Because it’s been
skeleton-melting hot outside, and we have two pre-teen boys, I’ve been
getting more than the recommended daily allowance of Nickelodeon lately.
Oh, that’s nothing new, of course, it just seems to be even
more pronounced since the weather turned hot and moist, like we’re
living way up inside a humongous butt crack.
Here are a few completely random/scattered observations and opinions:
I hate the new Spongebob voice (high and squeaky), and the same goes for
Patrick (more of a cadence-change than an actual voice-change, but still
suckin’). I can’t even watch
the show anymore, and it used to be my favorite.
Even discounting the voices, which isn’t easy to do, I don’t think
the new shows are even in the neighborhood of funny.
Today there’s lots of singing, and yelling, and noise…
Sometimes I have to check to see if we’re watching the Cartoon
Network.
And they’ve largely abandoned the simple story lines, for big epic
tales often set in the Middle Ages, for some reason.
Wot up wit dat?
Continue reading here
August 7, 2007
-- I frantically fled Panera
Bread yesterday afternoon, with an electric cord trailing behind my Jack
Bauer man-bag.
The place was absolutely lousy
with children. I have no idea
why, ‘cause as far as I know kids don’t usually go in for
hand-tossed Strawberry Poppyseed & Chicken salads, and the like.
But the joint was teeming with hollering booger-machines/tricycle
motors. And I can’t have that.
Also, and this was the straw that broke the hillbilly’s back, sitting
right across from me was a mother/daughter team I’d seen there before.
Each is roughly the size of your average Macy’s Thanksgiving
Day Parade float. And they look
almost exactly alike(!), each sporting some sort of hipster horn rim
glasses.
The whole thing is pretty disturbing. And
don’t even get me started on the way they eat…
All I can say is, people seated at adjacent tables should be
issued welding helmets, or some similar protective device, by Panera
Corporate.
I got the hell out of there.
Continue reading here
August 6, 2007
-- Saturday was so hot here, we
barely moved. It was a disgusting
day, really, with loads of inactivity and becoming one with various
seating solutions. I hate that,
but couldn’t muster enough energy to free myself from the bonds of
heat-induced laziness.
I did manage to take the
oldest Secret out to lunch, to the Chinese buffet.
Occasionally Toney and I like to split up and spend a little
one-on-one time with each of the boys, and that’s what we did on
Saturday afternoon.
I’m convinced they flick uneaten shrimp right back onto the hot table
at this so-called buffet, but the Secret doesn’t seem to mind.
He loves the House of Reused Crustaceans, so that’s where we
went. And I ordered off the menu.
Continue reading here
August 3, 2007
-- We almost went to New York
City
today. Toney and I were talking
about how we want to go before school starts, and how there aren’t too
many free days left. The Secrets
are involved in all manner of things, we have to go to Canada in a
couple of weeks to see Toney’s sister’s new house, and we might be
doing a quick West Virginia trip…
It just goes on and on.
And I said, “Hey, what’s wrong with today?
Why can’t we just walk out to the car right now, and freakin’
go?”
Yes, it was a very inspirational speech, and for a half-hour we buzzed
around getting ready. We were
actually gonna do it, just like that; we were going to be all
spontaneous, and shit.
But then the thinking kicked in… Stupid
thinking.
We started doing the calculations, considering what we wanted to
do, and at what time we’d realistically be able to do them.
And we had visions of driving back in the dark, getting home
really late, and all that unsavory crapola.
You could almost physically feel the enthusiasm leech away.
Man, wotta let-down. If
I’d only taken to the Senate floor two hours earlier, we’d probably
be sitting at Sammy’s Noodle Shop right now, eating ourselves right up
to the cusp of a blackout.
Continue reading here
August 2, 2007
-- As mentioned multiple times,
I’ve adopted a local Panera Bread location as my afternoon office.
I try to get as much writing done as possible every day, but
can’t just sit in this tiny room for hours on end; it makes me want to
start talking politics to a can of Del Monte fruit salad.
So, Panera offers a much-needed change of venue, meat-locker
temperatures inside, bottomless Dr. Peppers, and sometimes even a
topnotch sandwich and/or bowl of soup.
It’s something that works for me. At
least until dinnertime rolls around and they crank the jazz music so
loud it sends all us laptop assholes scrambling for the exit…
Anyway, as the hours continue to pile up at my afternoon office, I’ve
made many an observation. And, if
you’ll indulge me, I’d like to share a few of them with you now.
Continue reading here
August 1, 2007
-- Toney and I were at Jim
Dandy’s recently, enjoying some late afternoon adult refreshments.
Since the birth of our younglings we rarely get time alone, and
this was one of those rare times....
In case you’re keeping score at home, I’d chosen a pint (and then
another) of Sam Adams summer brew, and Toney went with the Blue Moon
draft. I like Blue Moon as well,
but all the fruit they serve it with makes me feel uneasy.
Ya know? May as well hang
a set of balls across the lip of the glass.
Anyway, we were sitting there discussing Big Issues, just like old
times. Back during the Atlanta
days we rarely made an important decision without first hammering it out
in a boof at Moe’s and Joe’s, over a pitcher of “the finest,”
aka Pabst Blue Ribbon.
In fact, that’s where we decided to make an offer on our first house,
where we planned our wedding, and where we discussed the possibility of
moving to (gulp) Southern California
. Oh, we have a rich history of
Making Decisions in Bars.
We didn’t have to decide anything this time, though.
We were just talking about my job situation, and how to proceed,
etc. It was a fairly low-key
affair.
About halfway through our stay, another couple sat down beside us.
They were, I’d guess, in their late 70s, and all dressed-up.
The man was wearing a full-on suit and tie, and the woman was
sporting the female equivalent. I
noticed he held the barstool for her, like a gentleman, and was
exceedingly mannered.
The bartender sauntered over and the man ordered for both of them:
“Two bottles of Miller High Life, please, and two short
glasses.”
Continue reading here
 |
The View From Down Here
