I enjoy a nice trip to BJ's Wholesale. This morning I took Da Chimpz and we selected several items, some needed, some not so needed.

Later I have to do something with the lawn. Got lots of brown crunchy spots. And where it is growing, it doesn't really look like grass. More like, asparagus. Even the flowers Alane planted by the recently repaired lightpost are showing some serious... stanchezza.

Now, if we can just get Frylock's Blogger account re-instated he can post photos of his band new Eye-Phone. That guy: always cutting edge.

Aw, hell... I'll post the pic myself.

Nitpicking?

Not in my opinion. Schools should promote literacy. You can receive (I did not say "earn") an education degree with a 2.0 GPA. We should be doing better than that in our educational system.

The Omaha public library made volunteers wear a button that said, "Can I help you?" Unbeknownst to me, I asked one of them while he was in the company of the director of volunteers, why he submitted to wearing a button that promoted poor grammar in an institution that should be promoting literacy. . . .The buttons were gone the next time I visited the library. (Yes, I know "unbeknowst" is out-of-date, old-fashioned, etc., but it is stuck in my vocabulary and therefore, still in use by me if no one else.)

On a somewhat-related topic: I was disappointed to find out that the library here does not utilize volunteers to shelf read. . .I loved doing that for the University of Nebraska Omaha library. . . .

The library does utilize volunteers in it's bookstore.What? Yes, the local library has both a coffee shop and a retail new-book-selling bookstore.

Local libraries in direct competition with the local independent bookstores and coffee shops? Should that be allowed when tax dollars support the library?

blogPS: anenome hits on Google are numerous--I suspect it is as a common error as "May I?" and "Can I?"

Do I nitpick? Am I intolerant? Have I raised the bar a few notches too high?

This morning I took Da Chimpz to their summer camp -- not the regular one, but the weeklong program being hosted by the local public school. I got them signed in and then strolled down the hallway to the exit. On my way I spotted something I had noticed last year when Cookie attended this program: on a mural depicting an undersea vista were engraved plates bolted to the wall providing the names of various creatures.

One such creature: the sea anemone.

The problem: they had spelled it "sea anenome."

Yeah, it bothered me last year too, but I was satisfied to have just a private laugh. I figured school would start up again in September and some young scholar would catch the error and go home with a gold star on his collar while a maintenance crew drilled out the erroneous label.

So much for local scholarship.

I also heard on the radio this morning that Cleveland's population continues to fall. Could it be the area schools that has people fleeing?

Here I sit, sipping my Fish Eye shiraz (from a box!), watching the Mets on ESPN, enjoying a rollicking thunderstorm that's rolling by outside -- and it comes not a moment too soon, after two days of 90-something and I can hardly keep up with water the grass (crunchy brown underfoot).

And now no power... and it's back... gotta go reset the wireless access point...

And I'm back to being online. Glavine just moved the runners over with a bunt -- maybe the Mets can add to their 2-0 lead.

Went to Wal-Mart earlier, but no story worth telling (but I did consider snapping a photo of the guy wearing the shorts and the knee-high Banlon socks). Then I went to Beast-Buy to try to find a new mp3 player. The one I've been using for years of jogging is starting to get a little fugazy. I saw a nice-looking Sony online, but wanted to see it up close and personal -- no dice, either at Wal-Mart or Beast-Buy. So then I took a walk through the foofoo import store, and then head home. Stopped at the deep-discount grocery store Marcs that just opened at the site of Tops, the now out-of-business competitor to area grocer Giant Beagle.

The place was full of a Marcsists. I mean full. It looked like the people of Berea hadn't eaten in months -- the place was mobbed. I strolled through, took note of several tasty delicacies that I would purchase on a return trip, and then drove the rest of the way home.

Mets crapped out this inning; stranded two runners in scoring position. Weak.

Took da chimpz to the town pool this evening and Mojo somehow decided that this would be the evening to show an actual interest in swimming. Real swimming -- not the paddling around and holding the edge stuff he's donw throughout all his years of lessons. There he went, swimming the full width of the pool without assistance.

Then he revealed his ulterior motive (because with Mojo, there's always an ulterior motive): he wanted to join Cookie in jumping off the diving board. He got out there to the end of the board a couple of times and chickened out. Even Alane was unsure if he would panic in the deep water and urged me to stop him. My take on it was "If he's feeling adventurous, don't get in his way."

So finally he took the dive. And he loved it. There they went: Mojo and Cookie jumping off the board, swimming to the side, climbing out and diving in again. They had a blast.

And now we're back at Berea-Rose and I've found the Met game on ESPN. Sweet. Score is tied at 1, but the Mets have a runner at first with nobody out in the 7th. Maybe it'll turn into something.

Bloody crack, indeed. Get used to it, Bazzukajoe: your children do intend to cause you severe physical harm. And they will succeed more often than you think.

It's a cool summer morning here at Berea-Rose. Da chimpz are still asleep, but that won't last long. They'll be up soon, requesting their usual: a bowl of "Funny Butt Cheerios" and a cup of orange juice. Then they'll wreak havoc in front of their video game console (maybe the Cube, maybe the Wii, maybe one at each), and then I'll herd them into the car to take them to camp.

At any point one or the other will make an assassination attempt. I am resigned to eternal vigilance.

So i was playing with Ellexa yesterday, rolling a ball back and forth across the house. I sat on the floor with her and she was blocking the way into the kitchen. I leaned into the kitchen to grab the ball and i was on my knees not realizing i had ventured in too close to the counter. I lifted my head and slammed right into the counter top corner. The sound was excellent. It resulted in a nice gash and a blood stained tile floor. I have black ablue welt with a nice bloody crack in my forehead, or is it a five or sixhead. Not sure anymore but it hurt. Nice work huh?

I didn't think it was possible but last night's NY to Cleveland flight was even worse than the last one. The 7:30 flight, I learned because I checked the status on the cab-ride over, was canceled. I immediately called and was surprised that they had another flight for me -- they said it would be leaving at 7:40.

Ten minute delay? No problem!

Yeah, like hell: when I got to the check-in kiosk it said, nope, can't issue you a boarding pass because your flight already departed. I looked at the line to get to the agent -- I'd never make it to the desk in time. I went to the monitor -- turns out the flight they put me on was originally scheduled to depart at 6, but don't worry, it had not departed -- the plane hadn't even arrived yet.

I went to the gate, gambling that they could issue a boarding pass there. Seeing the lines at TSA I made the exectuive decision to skip my usual trip to the food court downstairs to get da chimpz their customary black-and-white cookies (making them the first casualties of the night's delay nonsense).

So I waited at the check-in counter, and anyone who knows how much I hate lines will know that I was fuming. The plane arrived so the agent fled down the jetway; sometime later another surly attendant showed up and printed my boarding pass.

So far so good: I was holding a ticket and I could see the plane we would be using. We boarded at about 8, closed the door and waited. And waited. And waited. It was a packed flight and stuck as I was in a middle seat with my spine contorted and my testicles compressed I was quite close to losing my mind. Especially when they lowered the video monitors and played a special greeting from Continental's head honcho -- one that included lots of false platitudes about how great the airline is. The flight crew walked about and down the aisles telling people to sit down and put away their cellphones. "This is an active taxi-way" they said without a trace of the irony you would expect given that there was absolutely nothing active about the taxiway we sat on.

We sat on the tarmac for three hours.

Three fucking hours!

The pilot blamed it on a line of thunderstorms approaching from the west. We sat and waited and I wondered if we couldn't get the plane at least over the New Jersey, get onto Interstate 80 and drive part of the way there -- we'd probably get there sooner.

To make us all feel better about the Continental-enforced torture we were all enduring, they announced "free headphones!" so we could watch the CNN propaganda that was by then playing on the video screens. I declined, reading the rest of the NY Post, gritting my teeth, and leaning forward to ease my screaming back.

I stumbled off the plane after midnight, limped through the mostly-empty terminal and found that my horror show of an evening would be topped by a special guest appearance: sitting on the floor in the C-concourse holding forth before a small circle of hangers-on was none other than Ron Jeremy. I shook my head and walked disgustedly to the parking lot, hoping I would not be charged for the extra day.

Oh, and speaking of newspaper articles, yesterday's Wall Street Journal weekend section discussed boxed wines (again) in its wine column. I'm not above drinking wine from a box, so I read to get their recommendation. Imagine my delight to see that they were writing about Fish Eye wine, my old standby, now available in a box.

Then I got to this part of the story:

We first ran across FishEye, in regular bottles, as part of a tasting of the house brands of big chain stores last year. Back then, it was an exclusive offering at Harris Teeter grocery stores and we wrote that it was "consistently disappointing." Others must have disagreed, however, because the Wine Group says the brand sold so well that the company decided to put it in a box and roll it out nationally. (It is also still available in bottles.)

Why don't they just get right to the point? Piss-water.

Did you ever accidentally sneak up on someone who was acting suspiciously? They get all startled and flustered and so do you because you didn't mean to do it -- maybe didn't even notice the person until he gathers himself up and slinks off?

We did that today in a big way. We took Da Chimpz to the school in the next town because we wanted to use their field to give Cookie some batting practice. Alane was driving us down the school's circular driveway, aiming the car for the big parking lot just beyond but, oops, she somehow missed the fact that the drop to the lot was separated by a grassy burm. As we went sailing Starsky & Hutch-style over the embankment I screamed WTF and it was only then that I saw the only other car in the parking lot...

We have no idea what the guy was doing there, sitting alone in his car in an empty parking lot but we're sure he was up to something nefarious because when he saw us tear-assing over the rough and hurtling in his general direction he got this terrified look on his face, like he feared a mob-style hit, and as we parked next to him he quickly started his car and fled.

Which of course made us laugh even harder -- who does a drive-by shooting from a Subaru?

Alane came home from work all excited the other day because she'd seen a story in the otherwise despicable Plain Dealer -- an AP story about marauding monkeys in Puerto Rico. She found the whole notion extremely entertaining. I, on the other hand, could only think of our old pal Mike Evans who had spent some time down on the island of Desecheo trying to remove the very same unappealing primates. He did a research paper (skip down on this page to see the citation) on his experiences, including his unique opportunity to correlate the physical characteristics of the little beasts to their dietary habits. How does one evaluate the diet of a rhesus monkey? Why, by examining the contents of its stomach, of course. In the cabinet of Mike's dorm room were plastic bags containing the dried contents of those simians' stomachs -- not something you see every day on a mid-1980s college campus (don't know what you'd find on a college campus these days).

Anyway, I remember walking with Mike to his room one day and for some reason he had left his door unlocked. Bad idea -- someone had come in and riffled through his belongings. Interestingly, the burglar appeared to have taken a keen interest in those plastic bags -- some were ripped open and crumbly bits of dessicated forest meals were strewn across the floor.

Mike maintained his low-key demeanor and as he began to sweep together the mess he speculated persuasively:

"They must have thought this was some sort of really exotic hashish or something."

It still makes me laugh to think that back in 1986, someone at SUNY Purchase unknowingly smoked monkey-puke expecting to get high. And maybe he did!

American Airlines and US Airways..........Remind's me of riding a steaming flying turd.
As far American Airlines goes I too had the worst experience with them. We waited 1 hour in D.C. for a flight crew. When they arrived we were already on the plane and waiting. The flight attendants were in the back kitchen area and they were berating some of the passengers for thier attire as well as thier complaining. My return from Dallas was on American Airlines as well and on that flight the airline doublebooked my seat. When i spoke to the stewardess she smirked and "well your right, head over to the gate and s[peak to the woman there. Maybe she has ananswer for you." Very Helpful....I got to sit in the last seat on the plane. I told my company how awful thier flights are and that thier scheduling is only a suggestion.

UNCTIOUS.....I think you should have had your dad stand behind you guys and punch his hand everytime he leaned on the bar.

ante-difluvian-its a great word

American Airlines is blowjhinsky. Which I think I mentioned once or twice before... ah, as recently as Friday, a groggy day following a long night of piss-poor flight performance. Not only did I briefly blog my woes here, I wrote a complaint message to their customer service. Four days later, they sent their less-than-satisfying response. Here's part:

We realize it is especially frustrating for our customers to wait for flight crews to
arrive, and we do everything we can to make necessary scheduling changes in the least
intrusive way possible. Still, I am truly sorry you were inconvenienced by just such
a situation.

This was after the part of their message that "tipped me off" to the fact that I can look up the on-time performance of any given flight on the DoT website. In other words: you should've known that flight never goes on time. No make-good for you. Take a hike.

Weak. I gotta be in the city again next week. The Continental end of the Hopkins terminal is always a madhouse, but I'm booked with them. Let's see how those guys do.

Let's see if people who Google "American Airlines" get to this post (made even likelier the more I keep mentioning "American Airlines"; including a misspelling of "Amercian Airlines" increases the chances too).

It was a boring Sunday afternoon, and none of us had anything to do. It was just Aunt Phyllis, Uncle Pat, and me driving around trying to make a plan. Finally, we decided to go to our semi-local casino called Mohegan Sun. It's a great place because they have a DDR machine (Dance Dance Revolution, for the not-so-acronym savvy) in an arcade, and my parents can go play on the slot machines. They ran out of money before I did, and my dad decided to take a thirty second video clip of me and some random Asian kid playing DDR. It's very low quality, and it's short, but I think you can get the gist of what happened. I'm on the right, and the Asian kid is on the left. He was a 'bar whore,' as we call them. He hangs onto the back bar in order to take the weight off his feet so he's able to move them faster. I still beat him, but only by a bit. He was a good player, and it was a very good match.

Okay, I'm still waiting to find out how the Sopranos ends. Still waiting... Still waiting.

Oh, and as for stink signatures, yes my memory is embroidered with them. Grandma Rose's kitchen had a very distinct odor of broccoli and coffee grounds; her basement smelled like stale wine and plumber-putty; the B35 bus on Church Avenue had the subtle fragrance of foot disease and mop-water.

Smelling any of that now is like stepping into a transporter.

So Jessica and I went to a wedding last night and as we walk into the reception hall there was an ambient scent. Could have been incense, could be moth balls, whatever. All i know is that the scent immediately put me in a different place. I found myself in the Lanyo House on 38th street standing in front of the dueling organs. I could see them. It was rather strange and i wanted to know the scent but that was a fruitless quest. Has that ever happened to you John? Like Aunt Rosina's house most definitely is tomato sauce but with a little something more.

Something I noticed in Los Angeles, lots of dogs. It was a social excursion for thier male owners. And that sall thier was, it intrigued me as to whether the dogs were gay as well or in the very least male.

Well i'll have to go now, Young Frankenstein is on. One of the greatest movies ever made.... What hump?

A classic afternoon ballgame on television today, with the Mets playing the Tigers as part of the absurd inter-league play. Hey, at least it got the game onto TV in this area, so I got comfy on the couch, got some eats and rinks and settled in. A few innings later, I was dozing off, half-hearing the game, half-asleep, waking up in a pitching change, finally coming fully awake late in the game as the Mets threatened to catch up to the Tigers' big lead.

But in the end, the Tigers won 8-7. Feh.

Maybe I'll wander outside and sit in the evening air. More wine!

Working from home can make one somewhat less aware of their own personal hygiene, I'm afarid I must admit. Some mornings I drink my coffee, get the boys dressed and fed, take them to school, and then get to work -- without the once-obligatory shave and shower.

Hey, who'll know?

Well, I for one do eventually notice: the stink, the skin sheen, the steady advance of funk. And sometimes Alane will call from her office and ask, "Did you make the boys take showers this morning before school?" and I'll think, "showers?" I'm lucky I remember to scrape the previous night's chocolate pudding off their chins before sending them into the school building.

But you can't work from home all the time -- had to go to the main office this week which meant another cattle-ride into LGA. Repeat after me: American Airlines is blowjhinksi. Last night's 8:15 to Hopkins was delayed about two hours... Just like last time... And the time before that. Our latest circumstance? No pilot. Seems to fool chose to get to his assignment by flying on an AA flight -- so he was bound to be hopelessly late.

The worst part is they don't tell you anything -- you get to the airport and the screens say ON TIME. You go to the gate and you board. How is it that it isn't until everyone is seated and buckled in that someone finally notices that empty seat up front?

So I spent an extra two hours pacing the third-world corridors of LGA, wishing I was about a half-mile away at Shea watching the ballgame (because there's no way to watch the ballgame amidst the grime of the A-gates of LGA).

Anyway, now that I'm back I have to get the pics and vids off the camera from last week's Cub Scout field trip. First stop on that multi-point bus tour was the "Earth Crack" somewhere near Sandusky. A cave. We had a guided tour. I think I was more interested by the Civil War gravestones in the little cemetery across the way from the site -- I took Cookie through and we looked at the names and the dates. Then, back on the bus and on to a science museum in Toledo. And after that, hot dogs at Toledo's Tony Packo's. Julie and her kids joined us for that -- we gotta get her posting to this blog.

I used to change diapers for a living, a few kids would eat the their own feces. It's a dirty world out there, really. It's funny too, because I bet the guys you know that are gross have these few rules that they live by that don't match their behavior. For example: The guy that has over excessive wax build up oozing out of his ear will have a thrombosis if you accidentally trek dirt onto the floor of his car.
OOh, Joe, I'm glad you mentioned L.A., when I'm bored at work, I stroll down 'amnesia lane' and think about all the crazy antics that happened in that town. I like how we frequented a tiny convenience stored called the Pink Dot that had a VW bug outside with propellers on top. One thing that was funny was that everywhere we went we owned the place, we got lots of freebies this trip. Free Bull rides, free pictures. (What else?) I LOVE THAT!! When I was in London, every day at 5pm we would find ourselves in a McDonald's because they give away free tea at teatime. I'm not a cheapskate, but things like this make me so happy. What else??

There is a certain degree of stink that can be occasionaly rather comforting. Oddly enough the aroma of a good fart can sometimes be relaxing. That ,however, lasts but a few moments unless you unwittingly crap your pants,as broadway once did in S.I. so long ago, then you have crossed over the line. A good dump and ones own stink can very often bring comfort and relaxation, but that is over when you leave the room, Personal Aromatherapy is not something to share. I think johnny cat like to mark his territory in that manner but once again it is contained.

Tom i am so with you on this point.
I will admit Ellexa does not make it easy to maintain the cleanliness of our home but it in no way efffects the way we maintain our personal hygiene. I work in a place that promotes great fragrances so you would think that i would never encounter such offensive odors. You would be wrong. People seem to think that spraying a little Vera Wang on you can cover a rough night of binge drinking or maybe a shot of POLO BLUE would hide the fact that you have been landscaping for the last 8hrs. No sir that does not work. I especially love those that will take a shower and put back on the stink ass clothes they were sweating in the previous day. How does that help? Ahhhh yes i am nice and clean.......... i think ill cover myself with ass odor.

I have never been able to understand the kid in class that is so greasy he looks like a glazed Krispy Kreme. I sat behind a kid in chemistry and would count the clusters of dandruff in his hair. Somehow he thought slapping a little water and a comb through equaled clean. NO NO NO. I remember in Saint Catherines when i was in the 3rd grade i had a teacher, Miss Freire. She made an announcement that today we were going to address an issue effectin us all.Personal Hygiene. The class immediately knew this meant the kid in the back row that always had yellow pit stains in his white shirt and unkempt hair as well as food normally hanging on to several teeth and quite visible in conversation. I remember thinking, wow i wonder what thier couches smell like.

I ask you this. When the stink and grime is visible to the naked eye and pungent to the nose what kind of disgusting carnage is hidden by thier clothing. What does thier home smell like? Hopefully they do not have any animals because oen can only imagine what that would be like.
I agree Tom there is nothing like a hot shower to remove the stink of a rough day and start a new. I shower twice a day. Once to begin the day and once to wash away the many fragances and such i encounter.
I go to great lenths to make sure my family is supplied with adequate fragrances and encourage them to share.
As for the nose picking.........there is a time and a place.
Wow Tom you pushed button. I know steve has had a few stinkcounters in his day......

Well, it's been quite a while since I last posted, hasn't it?

In my life, I like to think I maintain a clean lifestyle. I shower at least once a day; I brush my teeth everyday; I wash my hands after I use the bathroom...But I guess these are things that aren't exactly valued in the worlds of other teenagers.

When I'm not clean, I can feel it. I know when I'm greasy and grimy, and I hate the feeling of it. If I don't wash my body, I'm not in a very good mood. One of my friends, though, hasn't really found the wonders of bathing everyday and keeping fresh. He has hair that just comes down enough to cover his forehead (Which means it's pretty long, considering the size of his cranium). His locks of brown are always greasy, and a single scrubbing shows one hell of a difference. His skin is extra oily from the excess of body oils that are caked on there. He truly disgusts me.

This made me think a little bit. What is the reason I don't have many friends who have so much body fat that they create their own little solar system of tiny animals and tissue boxes? Is it because I don't want our little dog Sprazzo getting sucked into a gravitational pull? Is it because I fear getting hit in the face by a chipmunk? I don't think so. I think it's because I value personal hygiene above most other daily rituals. In my mind, if you're not taking care of your body, I'm not completely sure I want to hang out with you. Shouldn't the same idea apply to this situation?

Well, I've talked to our soap-deprived friend about it. I have told him that it's not just me who realizes this, but many of us bystanders to this overwhelming phenomenon of stench. I tried to enlighten him; I tried to help him cross over the line that divides those who are ignorant to the daily cleaning process and those who enjoy that warm waterfall that is a nice shower. I thought he got the point, and I rejoiced. He showered that night...and then not a single time in the next three weeks. Believe me, I kept track.

He sits next to me in our band class. While I'm ignoring his filthy body, I can see a boy named Steve who is a year older than me sitting three chairs over. Every single band period, he tries to clean out his nose with a thumb and a forefinger. He sticks his thumb in his nose, and I can only imagine how angry his brain must get when it is stabbed repeatedly by a fingernail. If he's not playing his alto saxophone, he is digging through a goldmine of snot and boogers. Does he ever find anything? Why, of course! He doesn't do the 'pick-and-flick' or the 'roll,' and he doesn't even eat it. He simply rubs the findings on his bottom lip. I kid you not, folks. He simply rubs it across his lip until he is satisfied with the job he has done.

Don't get me wrong, guys. I have nothing against the occasional nose rub, and I will be the first to admit that I pick my nose from time to time. When I do, though, I make sure I get to a tissue as soon as I can and I will always wash my hands afterward. With our nose picker, however, it's not just an occasional thing. In band class, we have to find ways to amuse ourselves. One of the ways we have found is to bet on how many times any one of his fingers will enter his nasal cavity. The highest number he has reached in a single period? 16. The lowest? 9.

It's disgusting. The thought of being greasy, or constantly having a finger in my nose really makes me want to kick a baby and curb stomp a puppy. It's something that grinds my gears more than the phrase 'grinds my gears.' How do these people deal with it?

Have you tried feminine hygiene pads in your clothes?
How about those salt block?
Actually.....there is a natural product called a Gobi Stick.

You all know how I'm a health nut, I've been this way since I was in short pants. Recently I have been truly sticking to this health conscious lifestyle. I feel wonderful, there's no doubt, but I came into one slight pickle... For years I have read that you shouldn't put anything on your skin that you can't put in your mouth, but still proceeded to spray perfumes, put on sunscreen, and wear fancy lotions. I was able to avoid these products by spraying perfume on my clothes, and using lotions made of oatmeal, but what about DEODORANT? I'm active so, using an organic fruity essence roll-on stick still won't keep me from being "schwetty from the roller boogie". I would just be moist with the aroma of mung and rotten apricot.
Any suggestions? Please, not Locatelli or Pecorino Romano...

Hello ohio. I loved slip and slide. Greatest thing ever. In staten island we did not quite have the space for it so it went from retaining wall to retaining wall. You couldn't get a good start and that end was brutal. It was still fun. Almost as much fun as broadway's resort at his house.
So no one has brought up Los Angeles. It was quite a trip. Thank you Marlena. It was 2 days of non stop stuff. As you can see see Merle rode the bull. Suzy rode as well and she did NOT get the horns. We saw the show live.We met all the dancers. We ate in a place called Ketchup. We saw the Bruno Oilyholie in his speedo. We saw some of the worst impersonators ever. And they demanded a tip to take a photo. Stunning. We drove around hollywood and beverly hills for an entire day and experienced quite a culture of odd people. I found my favorite star on the walk. We had a pretty cool hotel suite. We even had joey's car to drive around. We went
to a rare book store that only sold first editions and signed copies. This place was amazing. He had rare versions of books the authors had written in or sketched pictures. Unbelievable. His prices ranged from $5,000-$250,000 for certain books.
So we left empty handed but fascinated none the less. Merle and Suzy met thier favorite cowboy boot salesman. It was a trip.