Where to start?
Many things happening, not much time to write because A) the Boss is off today and today is the last day we will have to get things ready for our "away from the things of man" tour; and B) before we can go, we have to take the laptop into the repair shop because there is an annoying digitized line running right down the middle of the screen.
So this might be the last post for a couple of days. I'm not looking forward to having my favorite steam vent shut off. To paraphrase Homer, "All destroying angels and no computer make Fatdaddy...something...something....Go crazy? Don't mind if I do!"
I have said before that having a blog is an excellent way for me to blow off the crazy things the runts do; it doesn't tick me off as much if I can turn it into a joke and the only reason to joke is if someone will laugh at it. So you guys are my therapy.
Last night it dawned on me that the blog just widens my audience a bit. The snide comments I make on here are pretty much the snide things I say to the TV when it's just the Boss and the kids, but they've heard all my "A" material before.
Repeatedly.
Now if only I could figure out a way to get paid for it...
Moving right along, I watched more curling yesterday and it made more sense this time. My sister in law made an excellent point in her comment yesterday that I had missed, though, and I wanted to share it with all of you in case you also missed it. She wonders why there is someone called "Skip" when everyone seems to be sliding.
An excellent question, and one that I wish I had been clever enough to ask. I'd call myself a Hack, but apparently that's the block they use to push off from when they start their slides.
The US men's team is still lousy. The US women's team is still cute. The German women did have a couple of cuties, but also a couple who were...um...the exception to the rule? Yes, that's the delicate way to put it. They were excellent curlers though. And I have to be honest here, I was expecting a little more from the Swedish team. Lousy stereotypes.
Something does need to be said about the women's hockey. I am seriously wondering about the format. Canada has won their two games by an aggregate of about 10,000 to zed. The US women have won their games by about 9,999 to 1.
At what point do we have a tournament amongst the other teams for the Bronze and just let the US and Canada duke it out in a Best of Seven for the gold? I won't watch anymore until the medal rounds, or until they put a mercy rule in place the way women's softball has. If some one is up double digits at the end of any period, the match is called. The winners don't have to suit up their managers and water-girls and the losers don't have to get pounded through the ice any more than necessary.
Honestly, it is kind of painful to watch.
But not as painful as the women's downhill. Now there are some TOUGH women. Did anyone else happen to see some of those crashes? Seriously, I cannot believe they all walked away from them. A couple of girls went through the finish face-first and one gal went past the line completely airborne; spinning like a top. I haven't seen that many rag dolls since our trip to the pioneer museum.
And that Italian girl (I think she was Italian) that went into orbit off of the last jump? She landed hard and then did the best imitation of a curling stone I have ever seen. They showed her go through the air for two hundred yards, and she easily slid another two hundred on her backside. My brother wondered aloud if she was going to have any material left on the backside of her suit.
She got up and walked off the course. That's guts.
Vince and Jerry certainly approved.
Well that's it for now. I'll keep taking notes and try to catch up when the computer gets back from the geek squad. No telling how long that might take. In the meantime, I'll try to sneak over to Beak's or Mom's to post a little something here or there.
Enjoy the circus and behave yourselves.
Yeah, right.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Curling is the Coolest!
Having not had satellite TV for the past several five ring circuses (circi?), I have missed the ratings juggernaut that is Curling.
I am hooked.
And I'm not sure why. I have NO IDEA what the announcers are talking about. The words they speak are English (at least I think so), but the structure and placement of the words make it impossible to understand what the heck they are talking about.
The only sentence that I have been able to understand is, "They need to use a lot of weight to zoom the hammer down there and smash the opponents stones out of the house."
Even if that doesn't mean what I think it does, any sport in which you get to throw a hammer at your opponents stones is a sport worth investigating! Especially if you are an unemployed bum with nothing better to do.
Now during my foray into the odd world of curling yesterday, I have made the following conclusions.
First:
The US men's team is lousy. I didn't need to get the scoring system to know that if every time you slide a stone into the bull's eye, and the opponent replaces it with two of their own, you're loosing. Not to mention they have miked the participants up so we can hear their mid-game conversations and the US captain spent most of yesterday using words that would make Vince and Jerry blush. Not a good sign.
Second:
I don't know who does the wardrobe for the Norwegian Men's team, but I want to buy my next suit from them. Red, white, and blue argyle pants that are as loud and obnoxious as me. I did not know that I had a fabric equivalent, but yesterday I saw it on TV. Two different pairs even. They have replaced Rodney Dangerfield's "Caddyshack" wardrobe as the clothes I'd most like to wear to one of my daughters weddings. If you haven't seen the Norwegian team's pants yet, you should google it. It is worth the time. The mysteries of the universe may well be hidden in those diamond patterns!
Third:
I recognize that my readership is comprised mainly of housewives and at the risk of offending many of you I would appreciate a paragraph or two to go into misogynistic Man Card Mode. I apologize in advance but if you ask your husbands to do some research, they will agree with me on this one.
Most, if not all, women curlers are pretty dang good looking. The US team is all cute. Best of all, curlers are built like real live women, not those scrawny skin and bone Hollywood types. Plus there's not a hatchet face in the bunch.
And the Japanese team? Let's just say the Irish bobsled team now has some competition.
Now you know me. I belong only to the Boss. And I respect the athletic prowess of the female athletes. And I'm not saying there should be a competition at the games based on looks. But if there was, I'd like to volunteer my services as a judge.
It would give new meaning to the idea that something won "in a double blind test".
Well, Motor just got here so he, Reaggers and Peff are about to make a batch of macaroni and cheese for baking day.
Enjoy the Five Ring Circus!!
I am hooked.
And I'm not sure why. I have NO IDEA what the announcers are talking about. The words they speak are English (at least I think so), but the structure and placement of the words make it impossible to understand what the heck they are talking about.
The only sentence that I have been able to understand is, "They need to use a lot of weight to zoom the hammer down there and smash the opponents stones out of the house."
Even if that doesn't mean what I think it does, any sport in which you get to throw a hammer at your opponents stones is a sport worth investigating! Especially if you are an unemployed bum with nothing better to do.
Now during my foray into the odd world of curling yesterday, I have made the following conclusions.
First:
The US men's team is lousy. I didn't need to get the scoring system to know that if every time you slide a stone into the bull's eye, and the opponent replaces it with two of their own, you're loosing. Not to mention they have miked the participants up so we can hear their mid-game conversations and the US captain spent most of yesterday using words that would make Vince and Jerry blush. Not a good sign.
Second:
I don't know who does the wardrobe for the Norwegian Men's team, but I want to buy my next suit from them. Red, white, and blue argyle pants that are as loud and obnoxious as me. I did not know that I had a fabric equivalent, but yesterday I saw it on TV. Two different pairs even. They have replaced Rodney Dangerfield's "Caddyshack" wardrobe as the clothes I'd most like to wear to one of my daughters weddings. If you haven't seen the Norwegian team's pants yet, you should google it. It is worth the time. The mysteries of the universe may well be hidden in those diamond patterns!
Third:
I recognize that my readership is comprised mainly of housewives and at the risk of offending many of you I would appreciate a paragraph or two to go into misogynistic Man Card Mode. I apologize in advance but if you ask your husbands to do some research, they will agree with me on this one.
Most, if not all, women curlers are pretty dang good looking. The US team is all cute. Best of all, curlers are built like real live women, not those scrawny skin and bone Hollywood types. Plus there's not a hatchet face in the bunch.
And the Japanese team? Let's just say the Irish bobsled team now has some competition.
Now you know me. I belong only to the Boss. And I respect the athletic prowess of the female athletes. And I'm not saying there should be a competition at the games based on looks. But if there was, I'd like to volunteer my services as a judge.
It would give new meaning to the idea that something won "in a double blind test".
Well, Motor just got here so he, Reaggers and Peff are about to make a batch of macaroni and cheese for baking day.
Enjoy the Five Ring Circus!!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Five Ring Circus to the North
I am an avid follower of all things sports so of course the five ring circus in Vancouver has not escaped my notice. I call it the "five ring circus" because I remember that in 2002 when it was here, anybody that even thought about using the "O" word in print or on merchandise without paying royalties was threatened with a lawsuit.
I have no doubt that as small as my readership is and in spite of the complete lack of monetary recompense for my services; any unauthorized use the "O" word would surely get me hunted down like the dog that I am.
I watched the opening and frankly I thought Salt Lake was a million times better; though I may be biased. The totem poles looked so much like Boris Karloff in "Frankenstein" that even my kids noticed. Moe asked, "Why do they have zombies?"
Good question.
I liked some of the special effects, though I'm still wondering whose brilliant idea it was to have a beat poet read. What the heck? I love poetry more than the next man, but that guy was A)the single most out of place moment in the history of the five ring circus(Poetry? What a blatant Man Card Violation), and B)was pretty sucky anyway. All he really said was "Hey, eh. You hosers stop making fun of the Great White North. Now take off!"
What, were Bob and Doug McKenzie booked elsewhere?
Personally, I think the judicious use of Bob and Doug would have been a terrific move. NBC could have used them as "Sideline reporters"to interview athletes and comment on the show. The potential for much needed comic relief was enormous.
Since I had no McKenzie brothers to keep me entertained, and the "culture pageant" was boring me to tears, I had to find my own fun. It didn't hurt that I was in a pretty snarky mood, so I started to invent bets for myself and think of creative broadcast ideas.
Of the latter, the best one I came up with is the Loner Channel. Its a cable station like NBC shopping or whatever that is devoted to covering the athletes from nations with fewer than 10 participants. I wanna see the cross country skier from Bermuda perform. And I am totally cheering for the Irish women's bobsled team (and not just because of my culture and heritage; those chickies are not hard to look at!). I also think it would be very interesting to see the stories about how these people from the middle east and tiny, tropical islands found themselves on skis and skates.
As far as the bets went, they were by far my favorite part of the evening. I was counting the number of Gretzky references (my pen ran out of ink after about ten million). I put even money on either a Celene Dion or Alanis Morissette performance, and was glad to lose the bet so as to be spared the broken eardrums (though Brian Adams was scary enough by himself, wasn't he? Can you imagine the deafening sound of channels changing if Brian Adams and Celene sang a duet? shudder).
Perhaps my favorite bet of the night was on a contest that won't be taking place. I wanted to see what would happen if a pack of PETA protesters and the Native Canadian dancers went at it, Gladiator style. Pardon the guilt of an easy pun, but I'll bet the fur would really fly.
Hmmm, not really politically correct, but a better fight than the last heavyweight boxing match, I'll bet. I wonder what Bob and Doug would have made of it?
Ah, well. I'm off to watch "Cool Runnings". I felt really old when I found out four of my kids had no clue as to why Jamaican Bobsled references were funny.
I have no doubt that as small as my readership is and in spite of the complete lack of monetary recompense for my services; any unauthorized use the "O" word would surely get me hunted down like the dog that I am.
I watched the opening and frankly I thought Salt Lake was a million times better; though I may be biased. The totem poles looked so much like Boris Karloff in "Frankenstein" that even my kids noticed. Moe asked, "Why do they have zombies?"
Good question.
I liked some of the special effects, though I'm still wondering whose brilliant idea it was to have a beat poet read. What the heck? I love poetry more than the next man, but that guy was A)the single most out of place moment in the history of the five ring circus(Poetry? What a blatant Man Card Violation), and B)was pretty sucky anyway. All he really said was "Hey, eh. You hosers stop making fun of the Great White North. Now take off!"
What, were Bob and Doug McKenzie booked elsewhere?
Personally, I think the judicious use of Bob and Doug would have been a terrific move. NBC could have used them as "Sideline reporters"to interview athletes and comment on the show. The potential for much needed comic relief was enormous.
Since I had no McKenzie brothers to keep me entertained, and the "culture pageant" was boring me to tears, I had to find my own fun. It didn't hurt that I was in a pretty snarky mood, so I started to invent bets for myself and think of creative broadcast ideas.
Of the latter, the best one I came up with is the Loner Channel. Its a cable station like NBC shopping or whatever that is devoted to covering the athletes from nations with fewer than 10 participants. I wanna see the cross country skier from Bermuda perform. And I am totally cheering for the Irish women's bobsled team (and not just because of my culture and heritage; those chickies are not hard to look at!). I also think it would be very interesting to see the stories about how these people from the middle east and tiny, tropical islands found themselves on skis and skates.
As far as the bets went, they were by far my favorite part of the evening. I was counting the number of Gretzky references (my pen ran out of ink after about ten million). I put even money on either a Celene Dion or Alanis Morissette performance, and was glad to lose the bet so as to be spared the broken eardrums (though Brian Adams was scary enough by himself, wasn't he? Can you imagine the deafening sound of channels changing if Brian Adams and Celene sang a duet? shudder).
Perhaps my favorite bet of the night was on a contest that won't be taking place. I wanted to see what would happen if a pack of PETA protesters and the Native Canadian dancers went at it, Gladiator style. Pardon the guilt of an easy pun, but I'll bet the fur would really fly.
Hmmm, not really politically correct, but a better fight than the last heavyweight boxing match, I'll bet. I wonder what Bob and Doug would have made of it?
Ah, well. I'm off to watch "Cool Runnings". I felt really old when I found out four of my kids had no clue as to why Jamaican Bobsled references were funny.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Who Needs A Dog, You Have a Brother
My children are constantly attempting to convince me that they need a dog. I, on the other hand clearly remember having a dog as a child. It was an awesome dog, not so big that it would knock you over, but not so small that it mistaken as a rodent.
She was a very peculiar animal; a Basinji. They are Egyptian hunting dogs, with pointy ears and a curly tail, and short, orange hair. The best part about them (and the only reason we got one) is that they clean themselves like a cat and they can't bark.
Even if they wanted to. They don't have vocal cords. Centuries of training them to be quiet trackers bred the bark right out of them. We had neighbors come over and make total fools of themselves because they were convinced they could make that mutt bark. It was hilarious.
You might think that a Basinji was the perfect dog because they don't need frequent baths or grooming, they don't bark and they're not too big. But until they find a dog that can feed itself and use the toilet, all dogs were, are, and always will be more trouble than they are worth. Not to mention that when that dog died it nearly broke my brother's heart.
I don't need a pet, I have kids instead.
Now, I'm a dumb man. But I do know that about a month after the "cute puppy" phase wears off, no one is going to want to feed, water, walk or play with the annoying dog who is desperate for their attention. But guess who will have to choose between doing it himself and listening to the whining complaints of the spoiled children who are told to do it?
Let's look at Squizzle as our paradigm. When he was less than a month old, we had to keep a list of who's turn it was to burp the baby, who got to change the baby, who got to choose the baby's outfits....these are the fights you have with three older sisters.
But now that he walks (Yeah; walks. He decided on Saturday that walking was almost as fast as crawling but has the added bonus of being able to carry things in your hands. Much more fun!)and has a mind of his own and isn't so much "fun" to take care of, his sisters could care less if he wanders around in a dirty diaper with a snotty nose while finding and eating floor treats.
If they treat their BROTHER like that, how long do you figure it'll be before I have to be the one to take care of the $%#!! dog?
I'm not doing it.
But the subjects of Squizzle, dogs and floor treats all bring me to my point for the morning. While we were watching my sister in law's dog this weekend, I found myself not once, twice or thrice; but rather a dozen times asking Squizle (or more directly his sisters who were supposed to be watching him) why he was once again partaking from Zoe's bowl.
It seems that my one year old has a craving for kibble.
Did you ever think as a parent that the words "Son! Don't eat out of the dog bowl" would escape your lips?
Me neither. But this weekend, they did. Frequently.
And that, oh daughters of mine, is precisely why you will never own a dog while living under my roof.
She was a very peculiar animal; a Basinji. They are Egyptian hunting dogs, with pointy ears and a curly tail, and short, orange hair. The best part about them (and the only reason we got one) is that they clean themselves like a cat and they can't bark.
Even if they wanted to. They don't have vocal cords. Centuries of training them to be quiet trackers bred the bark right out of them. We had neighbors come over and make total fools of themselves because they were convinced they could make that mutt bark. It was hilarious.
You might think that a Basinji was the perfect dog because they don't need frequent baths or grooming, they don't bark and they're not too big. But until they find a dog that can feed itself and use the toilet, all dogs were, are, and always will be more trouble than they are worth. Not to mention that when that dog died it nearly broke my brother's heart.
I don't need a pet, I have kids instead.
Now, I'm a dumb man. But I do know that about a month after the "cute puppy" phase wears off, no one is going to want to feed, water, walk or play with the annoying dog who is desperate for their attention. But guess who will have to choose between doing it himself and listening to the whining complaints of the spoiled children who are told to do it?
Let's look at Squizzle as our paradigm. When he was less than a month old, we had to keep a list of who's turn it was to burp the baby, who got to change the baby, who got to choose the baby's outfits....these are the fights you have with three older sisters.
But now that he walks (Yeah; walks. He decided on Saturday that walking was almost as fast as crawling but has the added bonus of being able to carry things in your hands. Much more fun!)and has a mind of his own and isn't so much "fun" to take care of, his sisters could care less if he wanders around in a dirty diaper with a snotty nose while finding and eating floor treats.
If they treat their BROTHER like that, how long do you figure it'll be before I have to be the one to take care of the $%#!! dog?
I'm not doing it.
But the subjects of Squizzle, dogs and floor treats all bring me to my point for the morning. While we were watching my sister in law's dog this weekend, I found myself not once, twice or thrice; but rather a dozen times asking Squizle (or more directly his sisters who were supposed to be watching him) why he was once again partaking from Zoe's bowl.
It seems that my one year old has a craving for kibble.
Did you ever think as a parent that the words "Son! Don't eat out of the dog bowl" would escape your lips?
Me neither. But this weekend, they did. Frequently.
And that, oh daughters of mine, is precisely why you will never own a dog while living under my roof.
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