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It’s birthday month at The Gull Reef Club. I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate than with 50 lbs. of the exact same popcorn kernels as Garrett (thanks, Pop!), 12 lbs. of high quality roasted San Francisco Bay Coffee (French Roast, Rain Forest Blend, and 2 Colombian), nearly 3 lbs. of Hoosier Hill dehydrated cheddar, and enough coconut oil to make all the cheese sauce we need for the popcorn. Run on sentence of the year, right there.
If you’re in the area and want some popcorn or coffee, you know where to go. Oh yeah, and gumbo tomorrow during the Bears game. I love October. Happy Birthday to us!
No more being maudlin. The Chicago Blackhawks open their season tonight, and it’s time to get ready. Which, for The Gull Reef Club, means playlists! Music and hockey are like Forest & Jenny – peas and carrots.
Today’s set list, so far, has included only obvious choices:
Juke Box Hero, Foreigner (ok, so maybe I might like this song now. It’s grown on me. It’s not just a joke anymore).
Chelsea Dagger, The Fratellis – because, duh. If you don’t get this you never will.
I’m Your Captain, Grand Funk Railroad – I like songs that mention captains. For Toewsey, you know?
Ride Captain Ride, Blues Image. Another captain song.
Before the game, I hope to squeeze in:
Highway Man Johnny Cash, with Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings & Kris Kristofferson – the manliest song ever, for the manliest game ever. Mmmmm, manly…
The Walker, Fitz and the Tantrums. Although, it sucks this song is now being used in both a Reebok ad and one for some ugly-animated kids movie. I hate when my favorites go commercial (On the same subject – note to Bank of America – stop using Shambala and the Tide is High, you are destroying the classics!).
I’m certain there will be others – especially if you suggest them. Bobby? I’m looking in your direction, brother.
Go Hawks Go!
Distraught, and really mostly unable to write – we have lost our Stella Blue. She went peacefully, and seemingly without pain. We will bury her near one of her favorite spots in the yard tomorrow. I already miss my tiny ninja more than words can express. I will be forever grateful she was part our lives as long as she was.
There’s nothing you can hold
for very long
And when you hear that song
come crying like the wind
it seems like all this life
was just a dream
SPAM, while mostly annoying (hence that third letter in the acronym), can sometimes provide sparks of humor, albeit confusing.
Somehow, I started getting SPAM to my work email for bidding on construction jobs, which in my line of work, is not all that odd. The offers actually looked legit and were getting past the spam filter, but everything was being addressed as “Dear Test”. I opted to email the company back and ask if I could be removed as their test account. I’ve not received another email from them since then. Then, just yesterday, I get another construction bid offer from a totally different company to my personal email address. This time to bid on building a $1m house in Deerfield, IL. Huh? Why are these construction companies following me around the internet?!?
Two other SPAM I’ve received recently are more typical, but funny because of their use of the English language. One came from someone claiming to be in Egypt and in need of smuggling some money to me (the modern twist on the old 419 scams). This email contained this little gem, “I send you so many mails but all prove abortive.” Abortive, eh?
The other I received, said:
“Dear Apple Customer,
We detected several attempts to log in your account. Actually, your account has been frozen.”
I love how this spammer is REALLY trying hard to sound like an American by throwing that ‘actually’ in there. Too bad it was SO out of place. Oh yeah, and I’ve never owned an Apple product in my life. I ain’t no 1%er.
In an on-going effort to manage stress, I am always looking to add to my cache of relaxation techniques. My primary methods these days include playing/listening to music, biking, history-themed research projects, and what you’re seeing here – writing. Sometimes these don’t always work, though. Hence, I reach out to you my dear Beachcombers, and ask: what do you do to reduce stress?
If you’re keeping score, please note that I am already discounting running and drinking (alcohol, that is). I don’t do either, ever – on purpose anyway. I suppose would run if being chased, and would drink if it were spiked without my knowledge, but if I have a choice – no to both of those.
Thanks for your input, friends. You guys mean a lot to me (and certainly help reduce stress!)
Cool weather means cinnamon. What better way to indulge than a little, er large, struesselkuchen? Never tried this recipe, and I’m still learning my way around the bundt pan (though, truly, there’s not a lot to learn but grease, grease, grease that pan). I anticipate it will be pretty good. Especially with some hot cider.
Woke up with Juke Box Hero in my head. That can only mean one thing…hockey season is less than two weeks away. For anyone left wondering, no, I have never heard back from the Blackhawks on why they play this song so often. I’ll keep you posted on any developments.
He’s just a juke box hero, aah aah aah
Juke box (stars) hero, (stars, stars) juke box hero, (stars, stars)
A missed opportunity to make a joke is a sin; especially if you subscribe to the idea that ‘I may not know if god exists, but if s/he does, s/he thinks I am funny- very, very funny’.
Such sin occurred yesterday while I was in the shower, tuned to GD Radio. During a prolonged space jam (that’s redundant), some guys come on with an ad to promote their show. As part of the ad, one of the dudes mentions that they are running a ticket give away for the Wailers in Hartford.
Hockey fans, I know you already see the joke coming.
No where in this ad do they ever say anything along the lines of, “For one night only! The Wailers back in Hartford!” What a failed opportunity. Stupid hippies. Sinners.
Oh internet, I love you so. While doing some online window, er monitor, shopping yesterday, I ran across this:
Inflatable Cowboy Hat kid party favor dress up prop pool beach blow up Toy white. Wow. Despite that incredible description, there is absolutely no explanation for the Israeli flags. I’m a little confused but love is confusing. I DO love you, internet. I love you, and all the little gems you have hidden away for me to find.
No, I didn’t buy it. I did come really close to buying these: Antique Victorian Steampunk Cyber Goggles Glasses Welding Gothic Cosplay Copper, but I couldn’t bring myself to drop the $7. Channeling the ghost of Jack Benny!
Welcome to the best season of the year, autumn. A friend linked me to this last year or maybe in 2012, and is now my go-to read for this festive time of year. Those of you delicate flowers may want to avoid this; you won’t be able to handle it. It is, after all, decorative gourd season.
It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers, Colin Nissan.
Guerrilla bathroom art update! As you may recall, we have a little rogue art/physics installation in our ladies’ restroom, started by yours truly (See: Balancing Act). I was overjoyed when I learned someone was joining me in my kitch-efforts to make potty time a wee bit more fun (wee bit, oh yeah, I’m punny, too).
Today, my joy over said bathroom art has been extended exponentially. It started this afternoon when, once again, my mystery-(p)artner, or possibly a third artist, added to the installation by including a second, empty tissue box. This new box was turned on its tall side so it can serve as a pedestal for the cup holder and original, full tissue box to sit. Notably, this new box does not appear to be of office origin; meaning, someone may have brought this box from home to include it. That’s an artist who cares right there.
Art time wasn’t over yet, however. Toward the end of the day, this mystery artist or now multiple artists, has/have added a roll of toilet paper to the mix. It is growing into a tower. It’s alive! It’s so intriguing we may have to arrange a showing.
I even broke my rule about devices in public bathrooms to snag you all a pic. Another round of thank-yous to our office artists. You really brighten up the place!
Viva Arte de Baño!
There’s a news article circulating today that says that Facebook is kicking drag Queens off their site because they won’t use their legal names when signing up, a violation of the FB rules. (See: Drag Queens Say They Will “Mobilize” if Facebook Doesn’t Change “Real Names” Policy, NBC).
I had this issue with FB in 2009 (See: Faceblock. I signed up as “Jaime LastName”. Shortly thereafter, I got booted for “compromising the integrity” of Facebook. Ok, go ahead. I’ll give you a moment to collect yourself from the floor where you fell off your chair laughing…..
Seriously, the idea of Facebook earning any sort of ‘integrity’ stemming from how people identify themselves online is laughable. I seem to have defeated this ‘rule’ by signing up with a slightly more clever fake last name, Caralibra, which if you haven’t noticed already is bastardized Spanish for ‘Facebook’ (it’s just that I’m a Libra so I took a few liberties). Combined with my very masculine, latino first name this fake has kept me on FB for five years now. In light of what is going down with the Queens, I wonder if I’m on the chopping block.
I’m on the Queens side on this one, but I also recognize that FB has the right to make up whatever stupid ass rules they want. Eventually, we will all give up our FB pages and replace them with the next, cool thing. Looking forward to that day. Until then, I remain, Jaime Caralibra.
In the ladies restroom, there is a small, circular cup holder that has been absent of cups almost the entire time I’ve been employed here. It has a hole on the top where the cups are to be inserted with a spring inside to push up new cups up as they are used. Also in the ladies restroom is a box of tissue, which actually does contain tissue. They both sit on a small table.
About two weeks ago, in one of my monkey-efforts to amuse myself, I balanced the box of tissue by one bottom corner in the hole on the holder where the cups are to be inserted, making a defacto, kitchy art installation…yeah, art. That’s it. The balancing act lasted a few days and the tissue box eventually fell down. I again balanced it sometime last week; again, for my own amusement. You know, physics is fun and all that. Gravity eventually took over a second time and the tissue box fell off the holder.
Today, I entered the ladies room and much to my surprise, and of course amusement, someone else has balanced the tissue box on the holder in the exact same way I did. Secret artist and physics fan, you are awesome. Keep it in balance, my friend.
Over the course of the last few days, the NFL has gone on serious damage control over whether or not they were aware of a video showing Ravens star, Ray Rice, throwing a knock-out blow to his then-girlfriend, Janay. In discussing this, many in the media (talk radio, cable news talk, AND sports talk) have all latched on to a very troubling concept and many are making it part of their media narrative. What I keep hearing, and am finding incredibly offensive, is the idea that “Everybody knows you don’t hit women.” There are variations on this, of course, but that sums it up.
It is paternalistic and chauvinistic that so many believe ‘you don’t hit women’ and repeat that as if they are being helpful and making society better. The belief should be ‘You don’t hit anyone first.’ It doesn’t matter if the hitting is of a man or a woman. Don’t hit first! Hitting back is almost always ok, whether man or woman. Just don’t be the first one to throw punches or slaps.
Parents, I implore you not to raise your sons to be paternalistic pigs. Don’t tell them not to hit ‘girls’. Teach your young men not to hit first, no matter the gender.
So long stink-month. Hello to the one of the best months of the year. Everybody dance.
First and foremost – the every Simpsons episode ever marathon. Almost as fun as having a time machine. I’ve spent almost a week now replenishing my supply of sarcastic quotations. If I say something mean to you over the next week or so, I’m just quoting this show. It’s not really me saying those things so you can’t hold me responsible.
Sticking with the Simpsons, I am putting out another request out to see if any of you are playing The Simpsons Tapped Out. Mike and I could always use more friends… mostly because we want to raid your town. I am Caralibra in the game & Mike is Mike-SAVGA. Add us or let me know your game name and I’ll add you. Huzzah for marauding!
I don’t recall the Cure’s Disintegration being such a long album, and since when do all of the songs sound the same? It took me all morning to listen to that album, and I’m not sure if there was more than one song on there.
While we’re on the topic of music, why do I like the E minor chord so much? I have a strong attachment, and it’s starting to feel a little odd. Anyone else have feelings like this? Also, is Em really dark, dark blue in your mind’s eye? Am I even making sense?
Now I need to go look at pictures of Illinois in January. It will help put this hot August in Savannah in perspective. Repeat: Bug bites and heat are better than snow and high taxes. Bug bites and heat are better than snow and high taxes. Bug bites and heat are better than snow and high taxes. I BELIEVE!
A survey question for you all. First, the usual disclaimers – this is all in fun and there is nothing scientific about my little research project here. (If you find yourself offended, check what you’re wearing before whining to me).
It has been brought to my attention that men (Westernized) who wear V-neck shirts as their outer-wear are douchebags. Upon my own subsequent observations, I can’t find an example that disputes this. Therefore, I ask you dear readers:
Are men who wear V-neck shirts as their outer-wear douchebags?
If I get enough results (like one or two). I will provide a report. Thank you for your participation in this men’s fashion survey.
In a quasi-committed effort to catalog the soundtrack in my head…
To start the day, 5 O’Clock World, The Vogues. This was my own homage to the spectacular life story of Robin Williams, RIP. The connection is this song was on the Good Morning Vietnam soundtrack, which I listened to on heavy rotation as a youth.
Next up was our collection of Less Than Kind songs. (Very grateful to Mike for updating my anytime access to our house music!). The voice of the singer of one of the songs on there, So Much For Everyone, reminded me of the singer from the band Live (remember them?). I looked it up and it turns out So Much For Everyone is done by Dan Mangan, who has nothing to do with the band Live, as far as I can tell. I’ll have to look more into Mangan when I have time. Of course, all this led me to listen to Mental Jewelry next.
In between LTK and Live, I wandered over to the local Goodwill, mostly in an aim to rid myself of the lollipop purse (much to the chagrin of Mike and Ashley, I’m sure). While there, the Talking Heads (And She Was) played on the PA followed by The Clash’s Rock The Casbah. Yes, that will keep me shopping, thank you. I ended up with just a few more items than a purse. Just a few. Nice work, Goodwill.
Oh and Kmart? Screw you. Jeans and hoodies. Kids jeans and hoodies. I. Can’t. Stop. Screw you clever jingle writers. May the hell you are surely going to play your jingles in perpetuity. Gotta stop watching live tv.
Rounded out this evening with my Morrissey/The Smiths mix. All about the angst, right? I can’t wait for August to end. Really, I just need to make it to the 22nd, when The Simpsons finally go into syndication. Finally.
Geoguessr is my current favorite way to kill August. Totally addicting. To date the closest single guess I got was 461.6 m/504.8 yards (4998 pts) at a spot near Arrecife on the Canary Islands. Can you beat that?
Free time for the last two weeks has been occupied assisting Mike in crafting cornhole boards (for us and 3 extra sets for family). The work was worth it, and we now have seasons of high-stakes tournaments ahead of us. The Mike/Jaime team is already up 1-0 on the Mark/Jen team. It’s going to be quite the fierce fall. I’m very much looking forward to football season (you gotta do something when the Bears aren’t on). Anyone up for a game, come on over! The results:
I’m looking forward to seeing how our family members paint their sets. Obviously, theirs will never be as good as Mike’s, but we’ll see who comes in 2nd. (I sure hope everyone’s sarcasm meters are on!)
And now for a kitty pic. Oscar and low lighting making our house extra-spooky.
I close by congratulating myself by typing about cornhole and not making a single double entendre. Maybe congrats aren’t in order, maybe I should be worried…
Sunday marked the two year anniversary of Registration Day for Mike and me. It’s only fitting it took 731 days to finally get around to being
branded, er, banded. I actually had no idea it was coming and was pleasantly surprised.
We further celebrated with some homemade crab soup, being the first time we’ve made it in approximately seven years (it’s crazy expensive and labor intensive). We also made some french bread, and chocolate covered strawberries for dessert.
Despite his insistence he didn’t buy me flowers, on Saturday, we did plant some dianthus, torenia, and curcuma in our Normandy planters that we recently painted. Curcuma is new to me and I’m loving it. Exotic, tropical, and allegedly a fast spreading rhizome. Zone 8b is the life for me. Ok! The instant I begin typing like a garden pirate, it’s time to go. I will leave you with some pics of said flowers…yarrr.
Closer Look at the Planter