Po' Boy Travel Tip

Smells of summer

Few things about being a schoolteacher are as gratifying as the vacation time. Like right now!

Last night, however, as the missus lay all sleepy-poo under her covers, (she does NOT have the week off. So I try to be quiet when I stay up. Thoughtful husband,) I was enjoying a late night repast of Mai Tais and popcorn, when suddenly it hit me: The wicks on my new tiki-totem-shaped tiki torches are too long!

I decided to light them! Ingenious. So I fill the little bastards with citronella fuel and break out the Zippo, (actually, the Zippo was out in my truck. I used a Bic. But since "Break out the Zippo" just sounds better, lets keep that line in for all future retellings...)

I gave the wicks a little extra "burn room" and add the fuel. A few moments later, they are fully charged and I give them a light. Magnificent! A big, full flame with that odor of burning citronella that just yells, "SUMMERTIME!"

Suddenly, though, the yelling is real. Or at least an approximation of yelling. Apparently, the extra wick, and the newness of it, threw off quite a little bit of soot into the room, and my smoke detectors proved that bargain batteries are just as good as those brand names, blaring their wake-up call to rat me out to the wife!

Now, years ago, I studied to be a firefighter, (among a plethora of other things) and am well practiced in the case of such an emergency. I spring into action...

I quickly disabled the smoke detectors after the first two sets of chirps! I opened the back door and blew out my torches and waited for repercussions.

Shortly thereafter, the bedroom door opens and my wife, Cheryl, comes out. She uses the bathroom. Maybe she was awakened but wasn't aware of what caused her to wake! That has happened to me in the past!

Upon leaving the bathroom, she calls down to me. "What was that noise?" she asks.

"Noise?" I feign ignorance, poorly. "What noise? I didn't hear anything. I'm sure you were dreaming!" (They always use THAT line in the movies. It sometimes works, too. Why the fuck not? I mean, what do I have to lose, right?)

"That beeping! You KNOW what I'm talking about," she quickly sees through my cunning deception, (and knowing that I had a Mai Tai or two that evening, she more than likely imagined me doing one of my drunken fry-ups!)

With nowhere else to turn, (and lord knows, the truth is not a card needed to play yet!) I dismiss the whole thing with, "Don't you worry about that. It has been dealt with." I hoped that these words made me out to seem more of a protector and less of a menace, and Cheryl sighs, a sigh somewhere between exasperation and too tired to care for further dealings with my like. She returns to sleep.

But I had a taste. And I liked it. I took my two new torches out back, (lesson learned!) and lit them again. Oh my god! The smell of citronella has such a ring of summer to it. It was awesome. If I had a hard time getting motivated to do some work out in the yard yesterday, well, today was a cinch. Summer is well and truly on the horizon and I had just the slightest taste of it last night.

And though Cheryl doesn’t realize it yet, so did she.

Unattended Blog Math

Thought - Motivation = A whole list of Nothing.

In other words, although there are a lot of ideas running through my head that I wanted to write about, I simply haven't been motivated lately.

Hence, the Attic sits dormant.

Maybe sooner or later, I will get motivated, but one problem is, some of my ideas require a bit more work than than I really want to do right now...

But, today, I decided to write something. Anything! So, in an effort to light a fire under my own butt, here is a short list of some of the things I want to eventually get to:

1. Toast! In true egomaniacal fashion, I decided to make a stencil of my face cut into aluminum foil and place it on a slice of bread and put it in the toaster, so that my likeness would be toasted into it. Yummy.

2. Kermit Sings. Another project that I started but haven't gotten into was a commercial for Kermit the Frog on his banjo doing heavy metal songs. Splicing some footage from muppets movies and shows, and overdubbing me playing banjo and doing my best Kermit impersonation on songs like AC/DC, Metallica, Sabbath, et cetera.

3. "Ode to the Chicken: Nature's Candy." Just a poem that I started.

4. "The Redcoats." Apparently anyone can come up with a political movement these days. The name doesn't have to be remotely related either! ("Tea Party?" Weren't the original Tea Partiers, like, really liberal? A bit of a departure there, huh?)

5. Akai Rice. Lastly, I was planning on writing out an amusing little tale about Akai rice, (56 times more fiber than white rice. That's right, FIFTY SIX TIMES!!!) and its chemical reactions with Mai Tais. A true story that is still "unfolding..."

Decisions, Decisions...

This here is YET ANOTHER example of the value of consulting immature people.

Why Great Britain ROCKS!!!

Back in September, I posted "Why Bavaria ROCKS!!!" and had a hard time believing such names existed.

Well, apparently, that is nothing! Great Britain has some of the most unexpected place names going! And unlike Bavaria, these have ALWAYS been in English!

No consistency to the Queen's tongue, eh? (Oooh! THAT sounded dirty!)

Here's what I mean:

I'm not making these up! See:

I was going to try to connect these sights in a logical manner, suitable for touring, but frankly, there are just too many!

And here are a few more!!!

And, before I turn in for the night, I need to get out the old "Cock & Pullet!"

What did you think I meant?

Paint the House?

Yup. April is here and with it, nice weather and my wife's annual list of chores to ruin it.

This year, she informs me that I am painting the house. Our current coat of paint is a fairly bland, weather-worn shade of Union Blue, I am assuming period to the house's 1831 date of origin.

But I don't want to just paint it for the sake of getting a sunburn. I want something DIFFERENT!

A few color schemes were bandied about, but then a thought struck me: Why must we go with solids?

So I fired up the Photoshop and tried a few combinations...

The Tartan House:

Yeah, Baby! The mad, bad, plaid pad. In a variation of the MacGregor Tartan, in honor of my father's Scottish heritage.

Casa de Paisley:

Subtle, understated, yet classy. This just hollers sophisticated, doesn't it?

The Alo-house:

This is my favorite. It can make the bleakest of New England days a tropical luau.

Tribal Abode:

Eye-catching, sure. But a little on the hip & trendy side. And frankly, I am way past the "rave-crowd" age. Pass.

The Van Gogh Home:

C'mon. This is pretty cool, right? Slightly pretentious, I grant you, but still, well on the neat-o side.

Fort Camo:

Unfortunately, with this paint-job, the Chinese Food delivery guy will NEVER find my house!

E.W.I.

Last July, I wrote about a really nice little ukulele that I had apparently purchased one evening whilst "in my cups!"

I still enjoy playing this instrument, (although, not many others can say that THEY enjoy my playing!) and have no regrets about purchasing it, but I am not sure if I would have done so had I not refilled my glass quite so many times that evening!

Oh well. "Lesson learned," right?

Hmmm. Apparently not. Enter Ebay. I do enjoy Ebay. I don't always RECALL enjoying Ebay, but how can you NOT dig that PayPalone-click shopping! No need for focusing, or clear-headedness. Just "click!" and you are surrendering to impulse.

The following is a short list of items that I acquired whlie E.W.I., ('Ebaying While Intoxicated.') Let my shame be your enjoyment.

My "Posable" Elvis doll.

A little over 6 inches tall, sporting his 1973 "Aloha from Hawaii" (strictly coincidence, I swear!), white, bedazzled jumpsuit. This is fully posable, as long as you pose Elvis EXACLY the way you see him above.

Billy Beer!

This is CLEARLY not something I would have bought had a clearer head prevailed. "Y'know, I could really go for a 33 year old beer brewed by a guy who drank Pabst Blue Ribbon."

No.

The Mayor McCheese "Action Figure"

This one took me by surprise, I gotta admit. I thought that I dreamed buying this. A really good laugh when I unsuspectedly open this package!

This is for sale, by the way, if anybody is interested.

I also discovered OTHER purchases that I thought I would share here. This time from iTunes, (maybe I need an "i.W.I." posting, too!)

A bunch of songs by The Monkees.

Fortunately, I am a Monkees fan.

Decisions, Decisions...

Maybe this should be "Directions, Directions!"

Éireann go Brách!

Luck of the Irish, part 2

Since first posting my ‘Luck of the Irish’ story, I have received many

suggestions on ideas to track down my lost lucky Florin. Some were pretty silly, (a metal detector? Indoors? Jeez.) Some more practical, and pretty easy to do, (a divining rod! Who’da thunk it?) And some were simply stereotypical, anti-Irish attacks, (“Lucky Charms cereal," Kristine? Be serious!)

The results were that I found, (or “divined,”) a shitload of strange coins here in my house!

A Susan B. Anthony dollar, a Sacagawea dollar, A William Henry Harrison dollar, (I didn't even know those existed!), an "AA 24 Hours Sober" coin, a pile of various gaming tokens, and even a square, 5-Florin Coin from Aruba! But alas, no lucky 2-shilling piece.

And then, like a stroke of genius, the idea hit me like a flashback born of way too many drugs in my gloriously misspent youth; Boom! "Brady knows best."

In my head, the music came up; “Here’s the story, of a lovely lady...”

March, 1970, episode 25 of the first season finds little Jan

receiving a locket from an anonymous sender and everyone plays detective to find out who sent it.

But, (and here is where it gets interesting,) she loses it! Peter suggests that everyone re-enact the events leading up to “crime.” The whole family was meticulous in the re-enactments... And it worked. Jan’s locket was found.

So, I too, must recreate the events of the night that my 1965 Florin coin arrived in order to find out where I put it.

I began by ordering a new coin. This time, I went with an Irish 1965 penny, a (“Lucky Penny!”) I made sure to drink exactly the same amount of whiskey as I did the first time, and, as much as I wanted to drink from my Mayor McCheese glass tonight, it was Ronald then, so it was Ronald now.

Sláinte! (Work, work, work!)

I watched the same movies, I sang the same songs, I got into the same argument with the missus, everything was going perfectly...

I think. Things started to get a little foggy about the time Egon was once again explaining about giant Twinkie of paranormal activity...

And... Chris: Out.

So, I am not sure if the experiment was a success or not. I DID completely re-enact the series of events precisely, (just like those Brady kids!) and I WAS able to force the the exact same outcome.

Now my new penny is missing.

Crap. So is all of my whiskey.

Facts about Leprechauns*

*Believe it or not, yet another batch of lesser known and entirely fabricated "facts" about Leprechauns, (will it never end?!?) This time, based on accounts from the fifth entry into the Leprechaun film saga, Leprechaun 5: In tha Hood!

1. Leprechauns are “the dark elves of Satan" and the gold is the ransom for their freedom.

2. According to “Leprechauns for Dummies,” A leprechaun can temporarily lose his power if he’s hit with the "essence" of a four-leaf clover. (What does "essence" mean? Well, mix it in with his pot! Because, well, see number 3.)

3. Leprechauns smoke a lot of pot. (I mean BALES of it!)

4. Scientific formula: "Douche + lubricant = combustability. Combustibility + electricity = flammability." However, leprechauns are apparently “hygiene-product chemical fires”-proof. (During the course of this film, this formula was tested and proven with success during a practical application. I DON'T WRITE THIS SHIT!!!)

5. Leprechauns can turn anyone into green-eyed zombie disciples by touching their forehead. And THEN call them into action by saying, “From the depths of the netherworld I summon you - My zombie fly girls!” ("Fly" girls?)

6. Leprechauns are natural rappers. (Don't believe me? See for yourself!)

Lyrics to "Lep in the Hood"

"I come from the land of the Irish spring
Dublin's the place where I learned my thing
From the Emerald Isle to your place in the hood
I'm the man of green come to do no good

Lep in the Hood, come to do no good
Lep in the Hood, come to do no good

Plenteous dope, this place is hype
There's a lassie, she's just my type
I hate to resort so soon to magic
Haven't been laid in so long it's tragic

I'm so bad, I'm good

I'll show you what to do, so lend an ear
Don't worry, little lassie, you've got nothing to fear
Sit with the lad who's lean and green
And let me show you why I'm a love machine

Come to do no good

I'm a wee green guy who's new to town
Show me what you do when you get down
I'll do up, you go down
We'll cause a scene, you'll love the green

Lep in the Hood, come to do no good
Lep in the Hood, when we're bad, we're good

From the cliffs of Moher to your front door
Better turn out the lights and pray some more
We're gonna party through the night until the dawn
Then you and I are gonna get it on.

Lep in the Hood, come to do no good

Lep in the Hood, come to do no good

Lep in the Hood, come to do no good
Lep in the Hood ...

Come to do no good."

Going Green...

Going Green, AKA, recycling, is today's angle. In an effort to publish a non-Leprechaun Movie posting for today, and I am not quite ready for "Luck of the Irish, part 2," I opted to recycle one of my older posts that seemed relevant to St. Patrick's day.

Sláinte!

'Twere A coupla years ago, back when the missus and I still lived in beautiful downtown Lynn, Massachusetts, (read with sarcasm for proper effect,) I found myself on the stir-crazy side of bored one Saturday night. Cheryl had already retired for the evening, and I decided to go out for a drink or two. I figured I’d head down to the only "real" Irish pub in Lynn, a city renowned for its multi-cultural citizenry. It was about 11:ish, the joint was kinda crowded, and there was a guy with a mullet doing Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” on karaoke, (but in fairness, he wasn'tthat bad...) Not my preferred scene but 'twas better'n nothing.

Yeah, that's what passes for an Irish pub in Lynn at 11:PM on a Saturday night.

In any case, at the bar I met a man from Dublin who said he hadn't had a drink in about three years. I offered to buy a round as he MUST'VE been parched, right? He said he quit drinking Guinness because ever since Ireland put a ban on smoking in the pubs, there was nothing to mask the smell of, and I'm quoting, mind you, "Guinness farts."

As this was a new term to me, my teacher's mind sought clarification.

Apparently, people go home from work in Ireland, get a bite to eat and head down the pub nightly, as it is the social epicenter of any community.

In the pubs, the patrons would imbibe in their typical evening refreshment; a pint or two of the black. Not long into the evening, the Guinness would, uh, accentuate the fragrance of the earlier evening's meal's odorous by-product in that confined space. It was only not too long ago, that the cigarette smoke would overpower that bouquet and all would be fine. Nowadays, however, with the ban on smoking, there is no longer a convincing, convenient, and accepted atmospheric shroud to hide the telltale evidence of the prior repast. This resulting aroma was the reason Paul from Dublin claims he chose to quit the pubs and drinking altogether.

But the question remains: Does Dublin Paul’s claim hold water? With the smoking ban in Ireland, did the pubs become suddenly noticeably, and possibly intolerably stinky? And is Guinness to blame? Or was this tea-totaling barfly, “Paul” simply full o'shit?

I often wonder.

Facts about Leprechauns*

Still more lesser-known and entirely fabricated facts about Leprechauns, this time based on accounts from that “classic” entry into the Leprechaun film saga, Leprechaun 4: In Space!

Our titular villain is somehow on a distant planet, and antagonizing the local populace. He is never referred to as a Leprechaun, by himself or others, simply as the alien. (But WE know what he truly is!) And these are some (more,) of the things we have learned about leprechauns.

1. Leprechauns are capable of interstellar travel, but will explode if out in space unprotected. (Yes, explode. I know, I know! Look! I didn't write this pile sh... I mean, I am only reporting on what I watched.)

2. If someone urinates on an exploded leprechaun’s corpse, his spirit can travel up that urine stream, and he will birth himself from that person’s penis during an awkward moment of intimacy. (Okay, this made me REALLY uncomfortable to watch this. It is offensive to me as both a viewer of the film and as the owner of a penis! A total "UGH" moment.)

3. Leprechauns talk to themselves... A lot. (I know, this is usually a device to move a plot, and to inform the viewers of the characters thoughts, but a. this movie doesn't really have much of a plot, b. the main character doesn't have much along the lines of thoughts, and c. I doubt that the movie has all that many viewers!)

4. Leprechauns are terrible shots with laser pistols. (Go figure.)

5. Leprechauns are capable of of bodily possession, shape-shifting, mimicry, teleportation, resurrection, telekinesis, force field generation, and energy beams. (But can't do anything to avoid getting sucked out an airlock, (how original,) and can't hit shit with a pistol. Talk about selective skills sets!)

Proof that even a nasty dwarf with a THAT face can score a babe, (and being a "space-babe" she is, of course, scantily clad.)

One additional comment: Good God, people! If you ever get the chance to see this movie, by all that you hold dear, DON’T!

Luck of the Irish

I am not a superstitious man. As I have mentioned in many previous posts, I am skeptic. And do not believe in invisible powers guiding my hand, choosing my path, or influencing my life in any way.

That said, I also realize that I have been wrong in the past, and it pays to err on the side of caution. My solution: A good luck charm.

I have been carrying a seven-sided 50 pence piece around with me, everyday for about 15 years. It has been my de facto lucky coin, simply by default.

Well, I recently got greedy and decided to upgrade. It has been accepted that a coin minted in the year of your birth is considered a lucky coin, and so, I decided to seek out a coin from Ireland from 1965, (Yeah, I know, I’m old.)

So, with a blind optimism, and anticipating an experiment, I scoured the ol' Interweb.

I found a swell ’65 Irish Florin, (or 2 shilling piece.) It was nice and cost me hardly anything. I ordered it and was prepared for my fortune to finally improve.

I distinctly remember it arriving in the mail. ‘Twas a bit smaller than my fifty pence piece, but it had a salmon on it, and since that is also considered a symbol of knowledge, I just KNEW that this was a good idea.

When my new acquisition arrived, I was three days into my February vacation. I decided to celebrate my impending good luck with a wee drop or two of the Paddy, (a Cork product, after all,) as any semblance of A.M. accountability wasn’t due for several days.

Here’s to optimism!

Well, that was back in February. And for the life of me, I have no idea where I left that coin. The following morning, and everyday since, I have searched this house, stem to stern, without any sign of the Florin! (At this point, I would to ask that anyone reading this, please spare me the “evils of the drink,” sermons, that is WAY too obvious.)

But since it first arrived right up until this very posting, my luck has gone from bad to worse to absolute shite.

Immediately upon the conclusion of my vacation, my day job seemed to expand in its expectations of me, the best of intentions invariably found me in deep doo-doo, and my debit card somehow and for the first time ever in my life, went missing, of course, at an extremely inopportune time.

The absolute kicker, though, the straw that broke it, was the traumatic discovery that my favorite beer in the whole wide world, Beamish, will no longer be imported to the U.S. (And of course, I discovered this little piece of soul-crushing info much too late to go out and stock up on it! "Cold turkey!")

Again, I am not one given to supernatural ideas. I am a pragmatic, logical individual. But I fear there must be some connection.

Logically speaking, it could ONLY have been the arrival and subsequent loss of this coin that turned my fortune into millery shash, and thusly tarnished my optimism.

It was obvious that there is only one course of action: find this coin. My frantic search continues.

After finding it, if there isn’t a immediate turn of events, luck-wise, I may have to destroy it entirely! (Although, if there are any options that I am overlooking, please let me know!!!)

I admit, not believing in the supernatural, or charms, or any of that junk, I fear I am out of my depth on this. I welcome any advice on the matter. Thank you.

It is so ironic that finding this coin would require a great deal of luck, and if I had any good luck, I wouldn't need to find this coin so badly!

To be continued...