Sometimes I dial Steve's cellphone and after the third or fourth ring I start having my conversation with him even though he hasn't answered. Over the last few weeks, I've talked to him for hours in this manner -- you should hear the insightful jokes and devastating witticisms! We have a jolly old time chatting this way.

Yeah, we all love Steve's cellphone.

(This post ought to trigger a spirited response from someone... Bazzukajoe. Silent Jen. Maybe even Frylock himself.)

BTW, we got the first string of Christmas lights hung today along the raingutter fronting Berea-Rose. When night falls we'll light 'em up. And blast the special holiday music (because, y'know, I got a lot of that stuff).

So here it is, fresh out of the photo-messaging fiasco of cellphone hell (hey all you Verizon ass-hats -- why not make photo access something less than a 20-step process):



That's some nice-looking holiday poultry.

Unfortunately, there is no photographic evidence of the bird that invaded Berea-Rose. I can report, happily, that it was slain and devoured.

Finally, someone posted the Fruit Islands cereal commercial:



In college we had a crayfish in a tank who loved to eat that cereal. If we had that crayfish now we'd make stuffing out of him for tomorrow's dinner.

And for after tomorrow's culinary festivities, there's always this: a vibrating toilet seat. If I had one, I'd install it in the basement. Make my little room into a theme park. I mean, more than it already is.

Mmmmm, I can smell Thanksgiving already.

Well, not really. But I did the last of the food shopping last night. And tonight the cookery should commence. Not even our nation's pathetic descent into Marxism will prevent me from giving thanks this year (though I did have another strange dream last night: Obama himself was sitting at my kitchen table so I could show him my new pen, shaped like a roasted turkey leg -- it wrote in three colors of ink... scary... good thing we don't have a kitchen table because I'd hate to have that dream come true... the pen would be cool).

Because I was out at the Giant Beagle last night I missed Bazzukajoe's phone call and then never got back to him. I shall ring him up tonight. And that Frylock -- who seems to think that he only needs to blog once a quarter.

Yesterday morning, Cookie and I were discussing Aristotelian measures of human nature and how they related to Thomistic teleologies developed centuries later. No shit -- Cookie said he wanted to have a serious conversation, so I dragged out the big guns. Not one to allow his life to go unexamined, Cookie enthusiastically stated that his own purpose is to grow up and conduct mad science experiments. I told him this was a good start. Then... was asked Mojo. He opined that his purpose in life was to blow giant stinkies.

And thus we amused ourselves before trundling off to school.

Yes, this is what passes for serious conversation among boys ages seven, eight, and 42. It's not particularly serious. Or amusing. But it'll make for great comedy tomorrow at dinner when I ask them to repeat what they think we were discussing!

There's nothing wrong with belting out Food Glorious Food at inopportune moments. But Aunt Marie has a point -- I've heard her use those words and she has never been incorrect.

Which reminds me: I was listening to Christmas music today. Bootsy Collins singing about Rudolph the Funky Soul Reindeer, who did not pilot Santa's sleigh in this version, but rather the Mother Ship. Timely, I suppose: starting January 20, I think the prophet Elijah Muhammed will be running the show for all of is. Hold onto your wallets.

I had the music playing as I was re-arranging my home office. It had been a while since I rewired the workspace, so I spent the day sliding around shelving units, stacking books, and capturing dust-bunnies. Among the ancient relics I uncovered: original IBM DOS boot discs, and the install floppy for Pipeline ISP software -- yes, the original Pipeline from about 15 years ago when the Internets was new and exciting.

No Family Guy tonight. The ass-hats at Fox are airing something else. All networks suck the bat-wang.

I was at the mall yesterday. Negative attenzu there for sure.

Ah, so it took me half a day to figure out my password, but indeed I have returned to place my grimy little fingerprint upon the Mastandrea Dish. Its been months, so there is a lot to talk about: a new President who prefers Putinomics to Reaganomics, Pineapple Festivals that star Morris Day and The Time, Vegetarian Iron Chef Shteef Kenichi, Frylock and Jenia's Search for Gabuzzelle....lets begin with a brief analysis of Sfingi's dream.

Biblically, the donkey is an ass: so what you actually observed was an ass-wang. A word that like attenzu is new to the English language, but which I believe should be immediatally added to the Encyclopedia Mastandrea. If I had to examine further into the psyche, I think we can all agree the brown mud represents fecal matter. Digestion, in particular bowel movements are an extremely common Mastandrea preoccupation, so its little surprise it clouds your subconscious mind. As for the Germanic suggestiveness of the word "attenzu", I would credit the buried ancestral Lanyo-ness that only returns during the deepest stages of REM...(you can go ahead and hum "Stand" or "Crush With Eyeliner" here, I just did.) Anyway, I had a long and elaborate dream this morning, that I will detail another day...but all day I keep remembering being in this stairwell where a huge crowd of people were gambling and playing a game where food was thrown at a type of dart board. Now what struck me was, loudly playing in the background was an awesome techno version of "Food, Glorious Food" (which I believe is from Oliver Twist) which prompted me to turn to my mother and say "Cousin John would love this song..." To which she replied: "because its stupid?" Even in dreams some things stay consistent. Oh by the way, Jennie The Mute believes your dream is a thinly veiled reaction to the Democratic takeover. The leaders and followers representing the flaccid and erect "members" of the Dem party/donkey. I think this interpretation can certainly be explored further, but I believe it best to allow her to do this herself.

OK, so brief thoughts the new President-elect. Nicely won campaign and best of luck in the White House. May I suggest vetting Kim Jong Il for Secretary of Treasury?

Recently, I went to Jensen Beach to check out the famous Pineapple Festival with Jenia, Merle and Silent Jenny. The entire ride we could not resist the temptation to impersonate Vito Caravella Sr., by repeatedly saying to one another "this guy's a real pineapple!" At the fair I realized that the only people who attend the Pineapple Festival were women who resembled Amy Winehouse and men who looked like roadies for ZZ Topp. But the best part is we indeed go to witness Morris Day and the Time perform "Jungle Love" live. Not the best live show I've ever seen, but certainly not the worst (that remains Hole). I have some superb live footage o not only Morriss rockin, but some nearby observers scorning me. Ah, how digital cameras have changed how we capture our memories.

Silent Jenny's vengeful digestive system has recently elected to protest absorbing meats, so in solidarity I have gladly opted to shift our daily dinners to a more veggie-centric menu. So now dinner each day is more of a Iron Chef challenge to find new and innovative ways to prepare produce. Its the opening sequence when the altar rises from thefloor and the announcer says "the secret ingredient is BROCCOLI RABE!!!" Your opponent today is Iron Chef Shteef Kenichi! Its actually been really fun...plus the roughage give you more time to read on the bowl.

Speaking of cooking, Jenia and I are in search of a gabuzzelle to begin a new Mastandrea holiday tradition...the Thanksgiving Gabuzzelle. We have found recipes online but we have yet to find place we can purchase one. We have decided barbecuing is better than boiling and would love to start this tradition this coming week. Any suggestions?

By the way, Joe I dont think the biker believed you were either costume hero or villain, he believed you were on your way to the ER to have the 100 pound colossalhead separated from the faded blue thing that was cutting off the circulation past your neck.

I was thinking about the term Happy Stink you have used in the past blog.

I once vacuumed up an entire container of Pecorino Romano grated cheese that fell all over the floor and then put the new dust buster on the charger. I recall thinking damn that worked out well. Several days went by and Steve was vacuuming crumbs on the couch and my dad was sitting on the floor watching something. That hot exhaust blowing out the side of the vacuum hit him in the face. He was not impressed, he said what the hell is that, get it outta here. He tossed it. I personally felt it was a happy stink.

John i do not know how i feel about that dream. There is not a single reference in Jessica's dream book to donkey shlong. I do like the new term we shall use. Atenzu.....We use to call it stand up comedian. This is much better.

Wednesday i spent the day at my moms house. Mutzzie was there. He and my father were attempting to cut down a cabbage palm that was really not offending anyone. They got halfway through the tree and the chain broke. So......wig and wheels trot across the street to borrow a chainsaw. The pull rope snaps at the first try to start it. no luck. The neighbor comes by. yes billy Busch and he surveys the situation. He decides to drive over the work truck from a large cable company with his cherry picker and says i bet i could take that out with my bumper. So big Vin says" GO FOR IT and give him a beer before he does it" He hit this tree 4 times and it went nowhere. The sound was awesome. i should have taped it. So the tree stays...... Maybe we can decorate it. we later began pulling all the life size nativity people from storage. Jenia and i drove home from our second trip there and i found an OLD batman mask in the storage that i forced onto my head. We get to the light and we are in a 2 lane left turn lane on a major road. This douche rides his bike through the crosswalk after the light turns green. The guy to the right stops hard and jenia hits his brakes. Bike douche yells whoa whoa......I stare out the window and say nothing as my head speaks for itself. As well as the truck filled to the roof with a back lit plastic nomadic tribe led by batman. out of the way we must forage and put up camp.

I am sorry to disappoint but my drive on I95 has been greatly shortened and therefore less eventful. I will never say uneventful.

Cool thing my mall has a blizzard every night at 7:30pm. Looks great and this week it was actually cold. well 45 degrees.

Had a bizarre dream last night. I was on a crazy boat ride. Crazy because much of the trip took us across muddy land surfaces. I think we were circumnavigating Manhattan; I cannot account for the muddy grass we were skidding across before we slid back into the river.

At the end of the journey was a boathouse, and a ramp the boat was somehow able to climb to get inside. Once we got in I noticed two donkeys copulating on the left side of the large room.

"Maybe we should've knocked before coming in," I muttered.

It did not seem all that odd that our mud-mobile boathouse also served as a horny-donkey cathouse. The sign on the right-side wall seemed to certify this dual-use: it had before-and-after illustrations of donkey-schlong. For educational purposes, I'm sure.

The first illustration showed the unaroused donkey member as a small thumb-like appendage, dangling lazily. Under it was the word "normal."

The other showed the same member elongated with cartoonish exaggeration, ready for action. Under that was the word "attenzu."

Attenzu!?!?

I looked it up. That's not a word!

Until now, that is...

This morning the snow is sticking to the roads and sidewalks. Da Chimpz are happy. I'm pissed. And it's cold.

I just put on a long-sleeved shirt that I last wore for the first half of Sunday. I now recall that I made a focaccia while wearing this shirt. It stinks of garlic.

And it's a happy stink.

Well, it looks like the Connecticut Malaise is going national -- and even our friends on the left side of the aisle are noticing. Oh, now they tell us.

Rainy day here at Berea-Rose. Temps started out mild but then fell throughout the day. We got out the slot car set and made a huge track across the living room floor. Even built in a loop-de-loop, just like in that Gorillaz video.

Mixed myself a pina colada tonight. Called Steve to tell him. Wanted to hear him sing reflexively. Had to leave a voicemail. Foiled again.

Got the mail yesterday and I continue to be relieved by the conspicuous absence of offensive campaign literature. It's the only good outcome of the election -- no longer having to receive daily piles of shrill idiocy. (Though I suppose it'll get bad soon enough -- when the tax bills start arriving.)

Yesterday's stack included a postcard from 5/3 Bank offering 53 reasons to bank there. Which was interesting, because I did not see 53 reasons on it. It was a friggin postcard.

And besides, all I could think of was the one reason that I would never bank at 5/3: they once pissed me off.

Heh. Put a TARP over that one.

Cookie and Mojo already know better than to try to mess with our stash of parsley. They know we need that each Sunday to make the meatballs.

You people in Florida are crazy. Which makes me wonder... What kind of madness has Bazzukajoe seen on I-95 lately?

A little snow was scattering through the air this morning as I took Da Chimpz to school. Yes, it's getting cold around here. After dropping them at the door I swung around to the Giant Beagle to get some coffee beans and a Post. Noticing a strange building boom in the area. In the crappy little strip mall on Bagel-y Road is an auto parts store that has been there for some time. In the last few weeks a box-store opened almost directly across the street selling, yes, car parts. And only a couple of blocks east they are clearing the remnants of a long-defunct gas station in order to build, according to the sign, yet another auto parts store.

Finally, someone around here is making sound investment decisions: no one's buying a new car anytime soon so they're going to need replacement parts to keep their jalopies on the road. Gonna be like Cuba soon, with aging old cars kept alive with spit and string.

But at least we'll all own shares in GM!

I was trying to sum up the strange sentiment that currently grips the nation. It's somewhere between "woe-is-me" and "Underdog, you've come to save us!" Pathetic in any event. I'm tempted to label it "The Audacity of Hobbes." But that's not going to make much sense to the people of northeast Ohio. Leviathan? Wasn't he a quarterback for the Bengals?

Well, they can take their Lucretian pessimism and shove it up their marxist Che-holes. I particularly enjoyed today's news story out of Jersey City -- the local councilman who unzipped from an upper window and pissed on the crowd below. Finally, a Democrat who tells it like it is!

Well, I'm heading downstairs to watch Alane play on the Wii. I think she rented the new Guitar Hero game. Wonder which songs they have on that (please, no more Foghat).

Went to World Market recently and saw that they were already stocked up with their holiday supply of panettone. I couldn't help myself: I bought one.

Yeah, I know I need to go easy on the bread intake these days -- I haven't been out jogging in months. And I'm cutting out all the unnecessary purchases, laying in for the long cold winter of marxism ahead (bring your own blanket).

So yesterday I opened the box and hacked off a big chunk. Sitting there with my cup of coffee and panettone I suddenly felt very civilized and secure. Yes, the holidays will be here soon. Perhaps I should already know that because all the stores have been decorate for weeks. Or maybe I can just look at the calendar.

No, eating the panettone is the best way to get in the holiday mode. That and watching more Food Network (though some of their new shows are a little fugazy).

Before I sign off I must take a moment to publicly humiliate Steve for not posting to the blog in what seems like forever:

Steve, you asshat, show the blog some love.

Okay, here they are: the groovy ghoulies.

Yeah, the spooky graveyard was fun, but we couldn't get the smoke machine to work until all the trick-or-treating was just about done.

A little while ago we ate the ravioli we bought frozen from from Gallucci's a couple of weeks ago. One dozen plain, one dozen with broccoli rabe filling.

Wow, that was good. So good I had to call Elna afterward to tell her about it. And to thank her for the orange hot chocolate she sent. Maybe we'll make some of that later tonight.

Right now, there's a lot of miniature golf happening on the Wii.