Squirrel Disposal: One of the many benefits of country living

I just went outside to check the horses' water, and imagine my surprise when I took a deep breath to inhale the crisp country air and instead heaved the Essence of Dead Woodland Animal into my lungs. Yes, there is definitely a deceased squirrel lying on my driveway, emitting a smell so putrid that you can almost see the stench rising from the body and swirling around, cartoon-like, into my nostrils. Rigormortis has apparently been weaving her magic for some time, as all four of its legs are sticking straight up in the air. Currently, my brother is at work, my parents are laying on the beach in Hawaii, and I have no clue what to do with the stiff, dirty carcass rotting outside my house in the 110-degree summer sun. I would really like to know what I did to deserve this life.

Stories Told As Lies in the 1950s

That's right, lies, my friends. Lies!!!

Recently, we received a piece of mail at work with the stamp located at right. That is R. Buckminster Fuller (1895-1983), inventor, professor, and science man extrodonaire. He is being honored by the U.S. Postal Service for his contributions to society during his lifetime. This included the geodesic dome which is what his head is superimposed on in the stamp. I'll spare you the details of what exactly a geo-dome is you can google search it if you so desire.

That's what Amy and I did. Unfortunately, we were sucked in to a little tale called A Visit To Black Mountain by Joe Lewis. This is considered a "story about Bucky" which is what R. Buckminster Fuller's friends called him, we learned.

Now when I read "story about Bucky" I assume it will be a true story full of crazy scientist anecdotes. I was shocked to find out that this story was just a woven web of lies regarding a young boy named Jacob who wanders into the black mountains and finds crazy scientist Bucky tinkering away in his geodome.

Bucky welcomes him into Black Mountain College where he becomes a student of new invention things. At one point Bucky and Jacob enter a room with a piano that makes music that sounds like "tinks and plunks." It is discovered that this is no average piano but a prepared piano by John Cage who describes playing it as being "in control of a percussion orchestra."

The stories falsities were tell-tale with lines like:

But in the twinkling of an eye his boredom was gone.

"Just call me Bucky," smiled the inventor, as Jacob ran off to Aunt Nan's and Uncle Ted's.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Cage. Do you mind if I ask a question?"

At that moment another man sprang into the room wearing tight black pants, a tee shirt, and no shoes.

Anni and Josef had to leave their homeland of Germany when the Nazi Party took control of Germany.

They would take their pie out in front of their small cabin after dinner and talk the night away.

Raleigh seemed so out-of-date now, so plain and unexciting.



In fact, we learn that Anni teaches weaving. Maybe she wove this web of lies.

In the author's defense, she included the small print at the bottom:

I took these historical liberties in order to introduce readers to the wonderful array of individuals who did visit and or teach at that very special college. Also I wanted to enliven the summer of 1948 as seen through the eyes of my fictional character Jacob Moore.

Got some free time? Read this wonderful tale. Have a lot of free time? Act it out with your friends.

You crazy fan

August 1, 2005 marks the return of the notorious, sweaty, speedboarding Russian Rapper Extraordinaire ILL Mitch to the rap industry.

This album, creatively titled "Still Mitch" is promised by Mitch to be " 2 time as long as first album.It should not be too many more months as long as I dont get arrested again."

Beeeoooooouuuuup beeeeooouup (<-- Smarm Alarm).
Apparently Mitch is as shocked as we are that he has stayed out of prison, because he has provided a list on his web site (www.illmitch.com) of things that he has accomplished since getting out of the slammer. Prepare to be impressed:


- All beat for new record done

- 20 new picture for website done

- Lyric for some song done

- Got movie clip done

- Need to finish more movie clip

- Need to finish more lyric

- And got more thing done that are secret

Call me crazy, but I generally don't count still needing to do things as accomplishments. But frankly, it's an accomplishment this guy ever survived in prison. If I were a convict, I would fully beat up people who use phrases like "call me Lord Master" and "take a seat on my anger sword." On the other hand, this "one more thing that are secret" business has me intrigued. Maybe he learned English. But, judging from this "News" exerpt from his web site, probably not:

"To person who throw me a fruit to my helmet on street. I know color year and styles of saturn car you drive and I tell my probations officer what you look. If I catch you on the drive by my front I do you a serious danger and I can tell you "one thing" you don't drive thats "for sure". You crazy fan."

Well, his blue unbuttoned feather vest is doing the ladies a serious danger, that's "for sure."

Those Rubber Bracelets

I just feel so confused about these bracelets. Especially the ones that are supposed to show "support" to causes. Do proceeds go to the causes? Does wearing them say, "Yes, I am against cancer."

Who isn't against cancer? Am I pro-cancer because I don't wear a bracelet?

And then there are the ones like those above that don't even have a cause. In my google-image searching I found one that read "Drama Queen." Sign me up. Now there is a cause I'll support.

Tonight...

I ordered my first drink, a Venitian Sunset. And I wasn't even carded.

I Ain't No Holla Back Girl

This morning I had the aural treat of waking up to Gwen Stefani's nasal rhasp proclaiming:





This shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s

This shit is bananas
b-a-n-a-n-a-s

Again, this shit is bananas
b-a-n-a-n-a-s

This shit is bananas
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And I thought pop music hit an all-time low with O-Town's "Liquid Dreams." (Stellar lyrics include: Posters of love surrounding me/I'm lost in a world of fantasy/Could this song BE any more gay/etc.) Side note: Redding has the misfortune of being Ashley Angel's hometown, and as such, O-Town used to play here on a regular basis until they made it big. And by "big" I mean "dropped off the face of the earth because the world realized they're ugly and tone deaf." If I hear one more Redding girl tell me how she made out with Ashley Angel in high school, I will promptly lodge her Venti Caramel Frappuccino into her larynx.

But anyway, back to banana shit: SPEAK ENGLISH, GWEN. I sat in bed for a good five minutes trying to decipher The Stefani Code, but I honestly could find no connection between America's favorite source of potassium and Gwen's shit. However, I did decide that I found the missing link between man and ape. And also, I decided that I felt like my mom when, the other day, she proudly announced to my brother and me that she watched that "Pimp my car" show on MTV.

P.S.--Happy Fourth of July :)

Why I Am Not Asleep Right Now

My badass neighbor, who is at least 60, probably a lifetime member of Hell's Angels, and resembles the man at left, decided it was necessary to drive his motorcycle around the neighborhood repeatedly.

Now, my neighborhood is not that big and I could hear him, two blocks away purring as he came nearer. The sound would crescendo as he reached my house and zoomed by and if I wasn't in zombie-sleep-mode and had a digital camera I would have been able to capture his mug shot as he passed.

I know its him because yesterday, every time I left the house, I saw him, standing next to his bike, his long silver hair pulled back into a biker pony. He was looking at his bike every time. I waved because I wanted to be a friendly neighbor. Clearly he responded by circling FOUR times.

It's a good thing my dogs don't live here; they would have gone crazy.

Since I have been abruptly awoken, Michael "Could I Be More Ambiguous About My Age" Croghan from CarMax has called twice. See, he's seen my driver's license which has UNDER 21 stamped all over it and a picture of me when I was 16 so I've got nothing to hide behind. He also knows my monthly income.

Ah well, probably isn't the best idea to date car salesmen anyway.

Those $1.99 Magazines Slash Brad and Jen Update

I pay serious money to receive the hard-hitting journalism known as People Magazine. I trust People, I trust what they write and I trust their sources. I know they won't say Britney's pregnant unless she is actually pregnant. They reported she was pregnant and her agent was like "well she hasn't told me." A week later Brit is all "I'M HAVING A BABY!!!!" Shocker, dear. Maybe you should tell sources close to you to stop divulging your secrets.

But this isn't about Britney Spears. It's about Jennifer Aniston, one of my favorite celebrities (I am ashamed to say that I believe I know her because I have read so much about her). Do not read this post any further if you 1) Hate Brad and/or Jen; 2) Know nothing about the separation/divorce/drama; 3) Think Angelina is hot.


The magazine cover at right suggests that Brad has PROPOSED to Angelina. This is IMPOSSIBLE. Brad and Jen dated for 3 and a half YEARS before they got married. And when they married they weren't even committed to life (they were committed to each other, for that time but they don't necessarily see marriage as a lifelong institution). I highly doubt Brad is willing to make any sort of commitment. He is a slowww mover.

Unfortunately, I can't find a picture of the magazine cover I saw yesterday. Same magazine's cover headline read: "Jen's New Man." Guess what?

Her new man is co-star Vince Vaughn! And an eye-witness source, some waiter (they actually did have his name, that's a first) served them dinner recently and they were, prepare yourselves ... "laughing and telling stories." GASP.

Clearly she has moved on. She had dinner with a co-worker and they TOLD STORIES. If only every man I told stories with could be considered mine; I would certainly not be sitting here blogging.

I would be MAKING OUT.

GASP.