The Frog Bog

Pontification From the Pond

Manly Man Brains- A Scientific Explanation

By the frogster at 11:48 am on Saturday, February 9, 2008

Sad day yesterday.  I had to remove the cool 8 ball attachment from the shifter in my car.  This, obviously, downgraded the car’s coolness factor to “cool,” due to the fact that I still have my fuzzy dice hanging on the rear view.  It had been “bitchin’” with the 8 ball gearshift cover, and I was looking forward to getting little fuzzy beads around the top that would have upgraded it to “babe magnet” status, but the number 8 on the 8 ball wore off and all I was left with was a round ball shifter top thingy, which really wasn’t very cool at all.  It was also, if I want to get technical about the whole thing, somewhat on the unsafe side, since the ball didn’t really fit on the shifter and wobbled quite a bit when I changed gears.   And I could pull it off whenever I wanted to.

This change was only a tiny drop in yesterday’s larger sea of automobilic change, however.  I had a real automotive maintenance day.  You know, get out the ol’ dungarees, put the car up on a jack, undo the oil gasket doodad and drain it out, re-jet the carb, etc.  A guy thing.  Yeah.  Because I’m just that sort of grease monkey, dirt-under-the-fingernails sort of guy.   Really.  I am not lying.

I mean, I’m not lying about the maintenance.  Yesterday, my car was definitely maintained.  Yes, sir.  It was maintained all right.  It was a team effort.  The Toyota Dealer did things with the gooey stuff that makes the car go and I cleaned out the coffee cups from under the driver’s seat.   The mechanic and I had a synergistic thing going.  He made sure the engine worked, and I made sure the accelerator wouldn’t get a coffee cup lodged underneath it and cause me to drive recklessly into someone.  Teamwork.  Manly teamwork.

But car care is not what this post is really about.  This post is about brains.  I have, like an unfortunate minority of men, a teensy bit of a mechanical deficiency.  That is, however, not the only area in which I am behind the rest of my fellow men.  I am ashamed to admit that, from time to time, I have a bit of difficulty communicating with my wonderful wife.  The problem has to do with information.   My lovely wife seems to feel that all of the information is important.  I, on the other hand, leave out the unimportant parts.  I’ve written posts about this subject before, which I am currently too lazy to search for and link to.

If, for example, my brother Eric, who lives in New Hampshire, was mugged by a gang of moose, (or squadron of mooses, or gaggle of meese, or however you say it), who plucked him from his car, carried him on their antlers to the top of Mount Washington and threatened to throw him off if he didn’t reveal our mother’s spinach artichoke dip recipe, and if he only managed to escape by taping himself to a large tree with a bunch of those “This Car Climbed Mount Washington” bumper stickers and riding said tree down that part of Mount Washington where all the extreme skiers go (I think it’s called “Blood Gorge” or something similar), and he sledded right into a marauding band of Norse Berserkers freed from their icy prison in Greenland by global warming who forced him to eat a quiche, therefore proving that he was not a man and his life should be spared, because as all Norse Berserkers know, real men don’t eat quiche, and then, and only then, did he manage to make it home, the end result would be that he was fine.  So, if Beth asked me how my brother was, I would answer, ”He’s fine.  He had quiche.” 

Everyone’s informed.  We’re all caught up.  There is a problem, however.  At some point Beth would talk to my sister Kirsten.  Kirsten would say something like, “Oh my God.  Wasn’t that thing with Eric amazing?”  Beth would then ask what thing, Kirsten would relate the Moosenapping and Berserker Menu to Beth and I would get in trouble for Not Telling the Whole Story.  This, however, I am glad to report, is not my fault.  It’s a biochemical thing, and I should not be blamed. 

While I was waiting for the mechanic to finish doing whatever it is he does to my car to make it keep going forward, I was subjected to the Auto Dealer Waiting Room.  This is a room that is at the same time too hot and too cold which serves brown imitation coffee and features an array of auto accessories, including gearshift knobs featuring rub-off number eights.  There is a television with the volume set at “cacophonistic” tuned to a TV channel designed to opiate the customers which makes it impossible for anyone in the room to do anything but stare at it and drool.  I am capable of drooling without TV, but this morning I was trapped. 

The show on the TV was a morning show.  ”Good Morning America” or “Today” or something similar.  It featured fascinating vignettes about the latest fashions and showed a live performance by Brian Boytano.  Really.  It also featured an author who recently wrote a book about communication between the sexes.  She claims that there is a chemical difference between male and female brains that makes talking more enjoyable to females.  According to her, women get a rush out of talking that men do not, so women enjoy talking more.  They showed 3 couples and asked them questions about their relationship, such as to report where the couple had met, etc.  The score, in terms of words used, was pretty amazing.  For the first question, the woman used 80-something words and the man used 3.  For the second question, the score was 100-something to 11.  The differential for the third question wasn’t as extreme, but the woman still used over three times as many words to answer the question as the man did. 

The conclusion I draw from this mountain of evidence (an author by the name of something I can’t remember and 3 couples asked 3 questions) is that I have some sort of brain chemical deficiency due to my chromosomatic makeup.  If you ever ask me a question and I don’t spend as much time answering as you think I should, just remember- it’s not my fault.  It’s not my fault.  It’s really not my fault.  Don’t blame the victim, people.  If you need more information, you’ll just have to talk to my wife.  I am just a man.  

And for that reason, I think I’ve spent enough time with words here.  I’m a manly man, and use my words sparingly.  Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go build something in the basement.  Or at least clean out the coffee cups.  

Okay, humor-blogs.com, cue the mysterious yet adrenalizing music…

2
18
2008:
manly man cars and the men who don’t like to talk about them

Filed under: The Daily Post — 1 Comment »

Our Big Trip Part 14- Maryland and Washington, D.C.

By the frogster at 1:37 pm on Thursday, February 7, 2008

Every now and then, I import one of these “Our Big Trip” posts over from the site we used as our traveling diary while we were on Our Big Trip. Today is a now and then day.

The background info about Our Big Trip is here.

Sunday, October 19:

Beth went to Ellicott City, and I got on my bicycle and went for a long ride. There is an extensive system of biking/walking trails all throughout Columbia, where Bill and Katie live. I saw a fox on one of them. It was a really beautiful day to ride. One of the things I miss about living in San Francisco is the seasons, and I think I miss Fall the most. It was sunny but a little cool, and the leaves were changing. Picturesque indeed. Afterwards, Bill and Katie put us to work. First, Katie and I scooped up roughly 6 tons of used cat litter that the previous owner of their house (they only moved in a couple of months ago) had dumped in the backyard. Then we aided in The Great Dog Fence Project (TGDFP). Thunder (Chocolate Lab) and Jack (Black Lab) are thus far reduced to going outside only if leashed, and TGDFP seeks to remedy this. TGDFP consists of putting an invisible electric fence around the perimeter of the yard. As you can see from this picture, the pair of them are terrors and sure to be security threats.

 

      

Since the backyard is thick with trees, leaves, undergrowth and cat litter (though not as much as there used to be), burying the wire (as is the norm) would be a huge pain in the neck. So, TGDFP consists of slitting plastic tubing and stuffing the electrical wire inside. So, we slitted and stuffed and visited out on the back porch until it got dark. Katie asked if I was going to put on the website that we got to the Hester home and spent our first day there doing manual labor. I assured her I would never be so crass as to do a thing like that. We then had pizza and beverages and watched “The In-Laws.” I must say, the pizza was REALLY good. Now, as not to offend, I would have to categorize this as medium-crust. New Haven was thin crust, Chicago was deep-dish, and this was in between.    

Monday, October 20:

Today we drove into Washington, D.C. We wanted to hit some of the museums there. We went to The Holocaust Museum first, because they have a ticketing policy where you get a ticket which gives you a time to come back for admission. The ticketing machine was broken, however, so we just went in. Bill had said that the museum “kicks your (butt),” so we were almost apprehensive going in. I was really angry at a number of countries and politicians coming out, and was afraid of some of the similarities in today’s world and 1930’s Germany, and I sort of want to go on a bit of a tirade, but I won’t. Before you go in, you pick a “passport” belonging to an individual of your sex. This document contains information about the person: marital status, any children they had, their career, hobbies and interests, as collected by documentation and interviews. It then lists where they were killed. You read this during the dark elevator ride to the lower floor (where the tour begins) to set the mood. The museum itself is sparse and dark, and the walls are cold and gray. The more I found out about the Nazi’s rise to power and Hitler, the more deeply my stomach sank. The Jews weren’t the only (or the first) people who were first expelled, then imprisoned, and finally killed. Gay people, physically handicapped people, alcoholics, people who had had relations with Jews, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Catholics, the mentally retarded, people who criticized the government and people who had ANY Jewish ancestry, even if they were not practicing, were rounded up. Beth and I realized that we would both have been interred. Then I started looking around at the other museum patrons and wondering who would have been imprisoned or killed if the Nazis were in charge today. The photos and displays made me feel physically ill a couple of times, and the lack of action by so many who could have moved to prevent The Holocaust made me angry.

As I reread what I have written, I realize that there is no way to describe the museum with words or pictures. I suggest you all go there if you are in D.C. After that experience, Beth and I were emotionally wiped out. We just walked around for a while. We went to the Washington Monument, The Lincoln Monument, The Vietnam Veterans Memorial, and The White House. I must say that D.C. is a complete mess. Some of the mess was, no doubt, due to new security measures, but some was anonymous construction. Anonymous construction means that there were huge piles of construction materials and holes in the ground,

 

  

but no indication of what was being erected/demolished/refurbished. In addition, the reflecting pool was at low tide, apparently, and Beth and I were fortunate enough to get there before the tide ran out completely and reflect a bit.

 

   

I would like you to notice in this picture that, while it may appear as though your humble narrator has gained a few pounds on this trip, it was actually a trick of the light reflecting off the almost-empty reflecting pool at sunset. Seriously. Plus, being so near the Air and Space Museum, the area is affected by strange gravitational forces which distort light waves and cause strange things to happen to pictures taken in the area. Really. We then made for the Old Ebbitt Grill, which was established in 1856, and is the oldest tavern in Washington. Many of our country’s forefathers had eaten there, which leads me to believe that our country’s forefathers were taste-bud deficient, because, while the service was great, the food was not as delectable as the throng waiting for a table would lead one to believe. Maybe it was their wooden teeth.    

Tuesday, October 21:

Back to Washington we went, for a more light-hearted day. Our first stop was the Smithsonian’s Natural History Museum, and its collection of dinosaurs. Lots of fun. While I was dino-specting, Beth wandered off to the rock and gem area and saw The Hope Diamond. She reported that the diamond is not nearly as big as one might expect. She thought it might be as big as a golf ball, and that it would be on display unmounted - just standing on a platform. Instead, it is actually part of a necklace, and it is roughly the size of a quarter (AND… it is BLUE. Who knew?) We then visited the insect zoo, and your humble narrator, always the risk-taking adventurer, participated first-hand. Yes, dear readers, I actually held a fully grown 4-inch long Hissing Cockroach in my very hand. I knew it was a cockroach, and it was 8-inches long, but I didn’t understand it’s full species name. So when a woman next to me, who was watching me in my life-and-death struggle with this 12-inch creature, said “It might HISS at you,” I thought she was saying it might do something else at me, and who wants a 24-inch cockroach doing THAT at them? Anyway, I survived my encounter, and after we wrestled the 36-inch beast back into its cage, we watched Sophie (I think that was her name) the Tarantula eat a grasshopper. This, of course, made us hungry, so we went outside to The Mall (as the cluster of museums and monuments in DC is called) and ate our turkey sandwiches courtesy of Bill and Katie. I was able to eat mine in peace, but a pesky bee kept Beth on the run. We then made our way to The Air and Space Museum. I enjoyed the historic airplanes from WW I especially. Beth enjoyed- well, let me explain. Beth is a daredevil sort of person, who enjoys roller coasters and such. Your humble narrator enjoys more mild-mannered pursuits, such as holding Beth’s purse while she is riding roller coasters. Armed with this background information, you are now ready to proceed. One of the exhibits at The Air and Space Museum is an interactive flight simulator. This is a flight simulator similar to those sold over the counter as home computer software. The A&S Museum model, however, has a twist. To participate, you are enclosed in a shell the size of a VW Beetle. You are strapped into a chair and the top is lowered to entomb you. The simulator then starts, and as you pilot the “plane,” the cockpit thingy moves to mimic the motion of your plane. I knew that Beth would want to pilot the plane, so I let her take the controls. I was then the gunner, and was in charge of shooting all of the enemy planes that we encountered. Now, Beth is a great driver, and she, as already mentioned, loves these sorts of gizmos. She is not, however, a video game player, which would have benefitted her greatly. I think we were actually upside-down for more of the time than we were rightside-up. Beth then found out how to “roll,” or make the contraption turn to the right continuously. After about a thousand side-to-side loops, we experimented with suicide dives, frontwards loops, backwards loops and even figure eights. By the time the ride was over, your humble narrator was clammy. I had to sit down and wait to stop feeling nauseous for a few minutes afterward. Number of enemy planes I shot down- zero. We then headed back to Bill and Katie’s, where Bill grilled us up some terrific salmon and we chatted until bedtime.

Wednesday, October 22:

Today we took one of our days off and just relaxed while Bill and Katie were at work. These days are important to recharge the batteries and learn fascinating facts. Today we learned many facts about home alarm systems. One of these facts is that they are LOUD. How did we glean this valuable tidbit of trivia? Well, it was like this: there was silence, then there was a shrill, piercing noise that precluded anything but listening to the noise. Using my incredible powers of deduction, I reasoned that this must be the alarm. Taking a look at the alarm, I confirmed that fact, since the system was putting on a light display that would make Pink Floyd jealous, prominently featuring an ominous warning. After glancing around the house to be sure that the house was not, in fact, on fire, I set about quickly running from the alarm to the bathroom where Beth was showering and back. This accomplished nothing, but it did keep me busy until the phone rang. Those of you who have alarm systems will know that the caller was the alarm company itself, and that they demanded of me the password for the alarm system. This I did not have. So, with the phone in my hand, I ran through the deafening house until I found Beth’s cell phone, while telling the representative on the phone that this was what I was doing. I found it and stepped outside to call Bill. While I was on the phone with him getting the pertinent information to turn the alarm off, I accidently hung up on the alarm company. Armed with the access code, I turned the alarm off. The silence was quite enjoyable until it ended with another alarm, which I quickly silenced. Not quickly enough, however.

First, a word about Katie. Katie is a sweetheart who is concerned with animals and, as Bill says, “saving the world,” and has even taken up environmental protection as her career. She is kind and caring and giving. So, when the alarm company called her, she must have been, well, alarmed. She then called the house, and our conversation went:

KARL: Hello?

KATIE: Hi Karl, it’s Katie.

KARL: Hey, Katie, what’s up?

KATIE: Nothin’. Soooooo……. is our house on fire?

After I explained to her that the house was not, in fact, on fire, I assume her heart began beating again and I went back to playing my guitar. Bill and Katie then came home and Bill grilled for us the steak that Katie had been marinating for 48 hours. MMMMM. I am glad to report that, other than the barbeque used to cook our dinner, the house remained refreshingly flame-free for the rest of the evening.

Thursday, October 23:

After waking up to a still-not burning house, we drove to the capital of Maryland, Annapolis. There we met my Uncle Larry and Aunt Dorette (Dorette is my dad’s sister), and they bought us a yummy lunch at Phillips or Phillips’ or Phillip’s, I’m not sure which, right on the pier. Not RIGHT on the pier. Obviously, we were in a restaurant. The restaurant was on the pier. It was great to catch up with them and hear some interesting stories about my father. We then wandered around Annapolis for a while, browsing and just generally chilling out. After that, we headed back to our hosts’ place for some delectible chicken stir-fry ala Katie. Bill and I then waxed political until Beth got so bored she fell asleep.

Friday, October 24

We finally bid adieu to The Hesters, Jack,Thunder, Bill and Katie. This time we took off North on Rte 29 toward Baltimore. Our stop today was The Baltimore Aquarium, regarded as one of the finest on the east coast. I must say that parking was a little bit of a challenge, but we finally figured it out. We don’t fit in anything with less than 6′8″ of clearance, so that narrows our options quite a bit. There has only been one time thus far that we have forgotten about our excessive height and had to slam on the brakes while cutting across a busy city street while aiming for a too-small garage. We didn’t make a lot of friends that day. But I digress. We parked and toured the aquarium. A great place, indeed. I especially liked the seahorse exhibit. There is a traveling exhibit of seahorses that is touring to raise awareness of how cool seahorses are and how overfished they are as well. That would explain the seahorse roadies we saw outside the aquarium leaning on crates labeled “Seahorse Tour 2003″ and smoking cigarettes. Anyway, don’t buy powdered seahorse. There were many cool exhibits there, including some sizeable sharks, Nemo, poisonous Stonefishes and an electric eel. After spending a while in the aquarium modeling the latest aquatic fashions,

 

     

we ate at The M&S Grill right next door. Pretty good grub. We then headed back down toward Laurel, where my Aunt Gail and Uncle Tom live. We hooked up with Gail and went back to her place, where we, her friend Michelle, Michelle’s sons Matthew and Michael, another friend named Debbie and Tom all ate Chinese food and birthday cake and visited until late.  

Saturday, October 25:

Today we made for Beth’s Aunt Gayle (not to be confused with mine) and Uncle Dick’s house in Pikesville, MD. We got a bit of a late start, which caused a bit of grouchiness between us. I prize punctuality above many other things, and Beth prizes the mellowness of her friends and family, who will understand if we are late. Gayle had recently had surgery on her jaw and was not supposed to be talking. However, she is perhaps the most extroverted person in the universe, so for her, not talking presents a formidable challenge. She, probably more than anyone else I know, LOVES finding out what is happening with people she knows. She loves sitting and talking. Imagine if Jimi Hendrix had no guitar or Julia Childs had no oven. That’s what we’re talking about here. So a lot of our time with them consisted of Gayle talking too much and Dick throwing his hands up in frustration becuase Gayle wouldn’t stop talking like he was asking her to, and gloomily predicting she would be in pain later as a result. They took us to eat at Panera, where Gayle watched us eat, and then they took us to the site of their new house, which they hope to have done in a month or so. It’s gonna be a great pad. They were sure to point out to us the comfy and roomy guest area. When we were back at their apartment, Beth’s cousin Heidi stopped by with her two sons, Brandon and Andrew. We had a great time catching up. We then left for Alexandria, VA for a dinner appointment with Laura and Ted Ladd at the home of one of their friends, Meg Thomas. Unfortunately, Beth had supposed that this would be an easy half hour drive. It was not. So, we were late again. This episode brought another one of our differences into the limelight. We missed our exit, and Beth decided she could probably find our way to Meg’s via a different route. While generally mild-mannered, when on a schedule, I come from the follow directions school of thought, and I hate it when we start trying to navigate our own way through uncharted territory. But Beth was navigating, and I was driving, so I let her navigate. After a couple of phone calls to Meg, we did finally find our way, but it was close to a two hour ordeal. Fortunately, upon arrival, we were greeted by warm company and cold soda. Laura was running in the Marine Corps Marathon the following day, and we had a good time talking about running, as well as, for a change of pace, Einstein’s space-time theories. After bidding them all an early good night, so as Laura could be well-rested, we headed back to Gail and Tom’s. Our ride home was much more pleasant than our ride there. When we got back to the house, however, I wanted to be sure that we knew exactly how to get to the train station the next day for the marathon, and Beth thought the general idea we had was enough information to go on. So we went to bed grouchy again.

Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, where we will answer the following questions:

Will Karl and Beth make up?

Will they get to the marathon in time?

Will Karl ever figure out how to use the digital camera in low-light so that the pictures don’t come out all grainy?

Will “Our Big Trip” end in chaos and divorce?

Does anyone have a sofa Karl can sleep on if it does?

The answers to these questions, and so much more, can be found in the Week 20 update, due out whenever we get around to doing it.  (ED NOTE:  At The Frog Bog it will be called “The Part 15 Update,” but it will still come out whenever I get around to it.)

COMING NEXT WEEK: A marathon, Shenandoah National Park, The Blue Ridge Parkway, Gatlinburg, TN and Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

humor-blogs.com belongs in Washingon.

Maryland Washington DC

Filed under: Our Big Trip — 8 Comments »

Groundhog Day and Family Business

By the frogster at 10:46 am on Monday, February 4, 2008

As you are probably well aware, on Saturday the 2nd, Punxsutawney Phil, the most famous groundhog of all time, emerged from his burrow at Gobbler’s Knob around 7:25 am and saw his shadow.   This means there will be six more weeks of winter. 

The gate to Gobbler’s Knob, in case you’re interested, opened at 3 am for interested parties.  Three-ay-em. Yikes. What kind of people get in line at 3 am to watch a rodent look for his shadow?  Actually, I would have gone, if Punxsutawney was within an hour or two of our place.  Turns out, however, that it’s located closer to Pittsburgh than Philadelphia.  Anyway, Phil has prognosticated a long winter this year, which should make those of you who have the best snow scraper of all time quite happy.

Saturday was a bittersweet day for Phil, because in a related story, a Federal investigation culminated in the arrest of four groundhogs from the Punxsutawney area.  Punxsutawney Paul, Punxsutawney Peter, Punxsutawney Parker and Punxsutawney Esteban, all relatives of Phil, were charged, under The Federal RICO statute, with conspiracy and an attempted terrorist act.

The four were found in a burrow in nearby Walston with a pair of theatre spotlights. Details are still murky, but it is believed that they were jealous of Phil’s fame.  Their apparent plan was to blind Phil so he could not see his shadow.  According to the official Groundhog Day Website, Phil has never made a false prediction, so an inaccurate prediction would have had a devastating impact on Phil’s financial and professional well-being.

“I just go out there and give 110 percent,” said an exhausted Phil after his prediction.  “I mean, I know if I bring my A-game and take care of business the way I know how, I can handle any prediction.”  When asked about the arrest of his relatives, Phil said that he “Had been hanging out with a new group of more positive groundhogs” and he “Doesn’t have any time for groundhogs hating on him for just doing his thing.”  Phil claimed he bought the Walston burrow for his cousin, but denied ever having visited.

In other news, FOX is in negotiations with the four groundhogs’ lawyer about TV movie rights.  The early gossip is that the group is hoping to land Charlotte the Spider to write the screenplay, but her partner Wilbur is concerned that by crossing the WGA picket line she will be putting herself in harm’s way and he could, even after all his success, wind up as bacon.

humor-blogs.com is always awake at 3 am.

Police nab pairs of plotters pinned with proposed pillaging of Punxsutawney’s pride

Filed under: The Daily Post — 20 Comments »

The Humor-Blogs NFL Postseason Pickfest, Part, Ah, Deux Plus Deux

By the frogster at 10:01 am on Friday, February 1, 2008

All right folks, here we go.  With the excitement at a fever pitch in expectation of the big picks from the humor-blogs community, it’s time we cut the crap, got down to brass tacks and talked turkey. 

For those of you who figured I was a shoe-in to win this thing (which was, of course, everyone), I have some bad news for you.  The bad news is that I can’t win.  I can’t win no matter how you slice it.  Chris (formerly AKA Tuna but currently in search of a new AKA due to irate people confusing him with a certain football personality) from Angry Seafood is 6-4 (.600) during our postseason pickfest and Rickey Henderson is 5-3 (.625).  I am sitting at 5-5 (.500).  If we all win, Chris wins.  If we all lose, Chris wins.  If Rickey wins and Chris loses, a fight will ensue about percentages vs. total number of picks.  The best I can do is tie Chris for the ultimate prize if he and Rickey both lose and I win, unless (here we see another example of that literary device that distinguishes the truly authoriffic writer (which I have used in abundance during our pickfest), foreshadowing) I make an outlandish prediction that could never happen in a billion years that comes true.

As reasonably learned sports folk with at least a few brain cells banging around in their heads, these two would have to be under the influence of Lord Voldemort himself, or at least his cousin Duke Jagermeister, to do anything but pick the Patriots.  So I see I way I can pull this whole thing out.

Super Bowl Ex Ell Double Eye- The New York Football Giants vs. The New England Patriots 

I don’t like dynasties.  I don’t like a team that wins all the time.  I don’t like movies where the cop gets booted off the force and winds up being right about the bad guy all along and comes along and saves the day at the end in the nick of time even though the chief (or mayor, or president) told him he was a menace to society and he should go move to Pinesdale, Montana and leave the good people of New York (or Chicago, or L.A.) alone.

Rooting for a team that wins all the time is like rooting for the disgraced cop in those movies.  No, it’s worse.  It’s like rooting for the sun to come up.  “Ooh, boy!   Look, the sun came up, and we only sacrificed three virgins!  Numbers four through six, you’re free to go.  Yippee!  What a wonderful surprise!  Phew!  Well, we’d better fetch our flint-tipped spears and go skewer a mammoth.”

Halfway through the fourth quarter last week, I knew the Giants were going to win, and I was actually glad for Lawrence Tynes that he redeemed himself and made the game-winner.  I’m a Packers fan for reasons I won’t take the trouble to go into again, but I would have felt bad if a Giants loss could have been that easily pinned on one player.  I’m just a nice guy who wants everyone to win sometimes.  That’s why I’m likely to not even watch this game.

Here’s the way my highly secret football-picking calculator has this thing figured:

1.  88.6% likely- The New England Poopieheads win by 34 points.

2.  9.4% likely- The Giants win the game with no time remaining on the clock when an onside kickoff is fumbled by Mike Vrabel and returned for a touchdown by none other than Lawrence Tynes.

3.  1.9% likely- It turns out that the Giants have suited Peyton Manning up instead of his brother and have to forfeit the game. 

4.  0.1% likely- The Giants win by between 13 1/2 and 20 1/2 points.  This is just crazy.  I mean, come on.  This one is like when the cop in those movies I mentioned above is out of bullets and he has to throw his gun at the tracks to derail the train and keep it from chopping his new girfriend (who is tied to the tracks in a revealing blouse) in half.  It can’t POSSIBLY happen, can it?

I’m going with number four.  Feel free to comment below about what a sports-picking genius I am. 

Okay.  I now have Chris’ and Rickey’s picks, and Rickey completely messed up my theory and probabilities.  But if the Giants win by 17, I’m still going to demand at least a share of the crown.

*Chris’ Pick: Patriots 42-32*
*Rickey’s Pick: Giants 24-17*

You’ll find at least 42 funny posts over at humor-blogs.com.

The Super Bowl Answer to Life, the Universe and Everything

Filed under: The World of Sport — 16 Comments »

January 30th, the Most Wonderful Day of the Year

By the frogster at 9:05 am on Wednesday, January 30, 2008

It was a few January 30ths ago, in a little hospital in Trenton, NJ, that my life changed.  I didn’t know it changed at the time, because I had six more weeks to incubate.  Anyway, on this day, my lovely wife was born. 

I know that it’s funny for married people to joke about how terrible married life is, but that’s just not my experience.  Beth has been my life partner for 19 years, and it just keeps getting better. 

I tend to think that it’s not necessarily US that makes us so great, but her.  I think that anyone with a couple of brain cells would notice how wonderful Beth is and snatch her up immediately if she wasn’t already taken.  That is, I’m pretty sure she’s taken.  There have been times she’s gone out with her girlfriends and guys have inquired as to her level of availability, but up to this point, Johnny Depp has not been one of them.  If Johnny Depp was to inquire about her availability, I might wind up having to put up a profile at one of those dating sites.

I’ve learned a great deal from her, including:

1.  It really doesn’t matter if you win or lose when you’re playing cards or Scrabble or Perquackey or Scattergories if you’re playing with someone you love spending time with.

2.  Milk cartons DO NOT go in the recycle bucket.

3.  Money isn’t everything.  We all want stuff, but Beth is as content crashing on a friend’s sofa as she is at The Bellagio in Las Vegas. 

4.  If you find someone who puts up with you yelling “Peeeeeeeezhon!” as loudly as possible in your best Pepe Le Pew voice to attract their attention in the middle of a crowded department store, you should hold on to that person for as long as possible.

5.  Having someone believe in you unconditionally makes even the roughest seas of life navigable.

6.  You have to buy the sponges that say “no-scratch” or else you’ll damage your non-stick pans.

7.  It’s fun to watch someone else you love have fun.  I don’t know how many Lord of the Rings style movies Beth has sat through, just because she enjoys watching me have fun.

I think the world would be a better place if everyone had a Beth, and I hope everyone finds one.  You can’t have mine, though, because I’m still using her. 

Happy birthday, my best friend. 

You can find your soulmate over at humor-blogs.com.

 snugglebunnies schnookiepies sweetiepants

Filed under: The Daily Post — 22 Comments »

Yet Another Celebrity Guest Blogger

By the frogster at 11:49 am on Monday, January 28, 2008

Our special celebrity guest blogger today is writing from an uncharted desert isle.

“Three years. It’s been three years. I can’t believe it. It was only supposed to be a three hour tour.

A three hour tour.

Who found the tree sap for the pancake syrup? Me. Who saved everyone from the WWII vet who didn’t know the war was over? Me. Who took a coconut on the nose? Me. Who became the radio to warn us about the typhoon? Me. Who towed the mine out into the lagoon, where it exploded harmlessly? Me. Who saved Mrs. Howell’s life? Me. Finally, who burned the bush with the mind-reading berries, saving us from total self-destruction? Me.  Me me me.

Without me, we wouldn’t have survived on this island for a three stinking weeks.

Three stinking weeks. 

It must be great being a hero, you’re thinking.  The others must worship you like some kind of diety.  You’d think so, wouldn’t you?  No. I’m The Official Fall Guy. The Moron. The Scapegoat. The Whipping Boy.  I save the island, perhaps everyone thinks I’m dead or injured, I am discovered whole, everyone thanks me and sings my praises and then it’s back to business as usual until another crisis needs solving. 

I know what you’re thinking.  ‘The Skipper must really respect and admire your courage under fire.  Why by now, he must look at you as an equal.’  HAH!  I’m not even going to go into what it’s like in our hut.  It’s awful.  As soon as the tiki torches go out it’s the same thing.  ‘Oh, (celebrity guest blogger), It’s time you met MY little buddy.’  The horror.

Does Ginger saunter over and say ‘Ooh, (celebrity guest blogger)!  You’re so clever and brave.  Can I rub your neck- oh, that isn’t your neck, is it?  Hee hee.  Oops!  I dropped my scarf.  I’ll just bend over and pick it up…’ No.  Ginger just sways and jiggles all over the island in her form-fitting dresses and her perfect makeup, making googly eyes and pretending she doesn’t notice and revel in the attention.  She makes me want to grab her perfumed neck and…hee hee hee!

The Professor? Yeah, he could have gotten us off this rock a long time ago. Of course he can fix the boat. Why doesn’t he? Mary Ann. Oh, they pretend no one else knows, but these huts aren’t exactly soundproof. Come on. In the real world, he was just a geek with chemical burns on his fingers. Yeah, some hot midwestern babe with abs you could, well, crack a coconut on, would have gone for him in the real world. Suuuuuure. She’d dump him like an old shoe if we ever got out of here. He knows that. So here we stay, with nothing but the coconuts and the sea and the coconuts and the sand and the stinking coconuts!  Well, I’m sure Mary Ann’s abs wouldn’t save her if she had a little fall off a cliff.  Ha ha ha!  And I’d like to see the professor think his way out of the lagoon with a rock tied around his foot.  Hee hee hee! 

The Howells are the very worst example of the evils of capitalism. They think they can buy anything- power, respect and people. People! A monetary valuation of people strips away their humanity and makes them commodities. All commodities are disposable. I am not disposable!  I am not some hourly employee the Howells can threaten with pink-slipping.  I am (celebrity guest blogger)!  I AM THE ISLAND!  HAR HAR HAR!

Go get us some lobsters! HAH! I almost lost my arm to a three meter shark.

A three meter shark.

Go find some more berries from the other side of the island! HAH! That was a three mile walk.

A three mile walk.

Well, hee hee hee, I’ve got a little surprise for everyone. It may not get me off the island, but it will get me some peace and quiet. They don’t know that I actually discovered TWO mines. And I watched the Professor, and I learned a couple of tricks, ho ho, ho!  I’ve got that second mine all set up under the dining table and rigged with a three minute fuse.    

A three minute fuse.

I have to go now. Its… hee hee…dinnertime. Ha ha!  HA HA!  BWAAAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!”

humor-blogs.com could get me off this island.

a three paragraph post a three paragraph post

Filed under: The Daily Post — 23 Comments »

Avatars Made of Boogies Melt Into the Sea… Eventually

By the frogster at 2:18 pm on Friday, January 25, 2008

YOU:  “Dude, like when are you going to update your blog?”

ME:  “IDK.”

YOU:  “Plus, I posted a really funny post I think you would love but you haven’t visited my blog!”

ME:  “IK.”

YOU:  “And I heard you have some pictures and you’re gonna put up some picture posts and they’re gonna be great!  When is that gonna happen?”

ME:  “IDK.”

YOU:  “And you probably have something to say about the NFL playoffs and your picks and the big game.  What do you think?”

ME:  “IDFLTTM.”

YOU:  “What?”

ME:  “I Don’t Feel Like Typing That Much.”

All I know is that if I wasn’t the king of bulk shopping I would have run out of tissues a few days ago.  My nasal cavity is only so big.  There’s no way that the number of boogies that I’ve redistributed from my head to facial tissues over the last few days could possibly fit in there, unless my head is some kind of a portal to another dimension full of booger-based life forms.   But it’s been a long time since I’ve been this mucus-laden.  My sinuses must be some kind of alternate route from the boogermension that is closed during certain periods like those roads in Yosemite that are only open in the summer months.  But it’s open for business now, I can tell you. And the traffic is terrible. 

In lieu of funny stuff, I have a question for you blog types:

Do any of you wordpressers use a plugin for avatars?  75% of the people who comment here just get a silhouette (a male one, even if the commentor is female, as Bee pointed out) instead of their avatar when they leave a comment.  Any ideas?  Thanks. 

Now I’m gonna go blow my nose on humor-blogs.com.

The Boogie Woogie Bugle Blogger (From Company C)

Filed under: The Daily Post — 28 Comments »
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