Hello everyone! (Both of you)
I, for some reason have been asked to do a guest post on a friend's blog. This got me thinking. And after that, I realized that I haven't posted anything in like a decade. So I asked someone else to do a guest post for me. So I got...Tom.
I've been working with Tom for some time now. He was very timid at first, and would only eat out of a bowl placed very far from my trailer down by the river. But, I've been patient, and he will now take treats of beef jerky and fish balls from my hand. Next week, I'm hoping to teach him to sit, and after that, Quantum Theory.
In the meantime, he has written the following for your personal enjoyment and edification.
Please give him a pat on the head for his hard work. Thank you.
THE NEWLYWED WOMAN'S RULES
FOR DISPLAYING KNICK-KNACKS:
1. All Knick-knacks must be made of porcelain* and have at least five
(5) porcelain accents attached. These can be: flowers, feathers etc. All
accents or decorations must conform to the following criteria:
(A) All accents/decorations must have a +5 F.E.S. rating (Fragile Egg Shell).
(B)
Be intricate and fragile enough in structure and painting and or
gilding as to render any subsequent reattachment with glue impossible to
hide and be immediately noticed.
(C) Be evenly spaced around the
knick-knack to ensure that in the event the knick-knack should fall
over, at least one accent will land first.
(D) Each accent must be integral to the knick-knack and have significant meaning.
1. All Knick-knacks must have a high center of gravity and be as off centered as possible.
2. All Knick-knacks must have a base as narrow as possible to accent the high center of gravity.
3. Knick-knacks on display must be one of the following:
(A) A limited edition no longer available
(B) From a foreign country and/or received from a deceased relative/dear friend
(C) A one of a kind. Usually handmade from a deceased relative/dear friend/small child*.
*
Knick-knacks from a small child may be made from something other than
porcelain. This is the only exemption to the porcelain only rule. If a
knick-knack is made by a child and is made of something other than
porcelain it must contain macaroni and be biodegradable and must be
highly susceptible to water damage while still being extremely fragile.
1. All Knick-knacks must be displayed in a matter that will maximize visibility. For example:
(A)
Knick-knacks may be on a narrow shelf or desk that is approximately 1
inch below the light switch of the room. Ideally, the knick-knack
should be placed directly in front of the light switch so it is noticed
every time the light switch is turned on or off. The light switch can
also be framed by two knick-knacks placed closely together effectively
"framing" the switch (Advanced level). They may be also displayed on the
edge of end tables next to high traffic areas.
(B)
Knick-knacks may also be placed on a wall mounted display. Simply secure
a large, heavy, multi-leveled frame to the wall by stapling dental
floss (mint), to the back top two corners and hang on the wall with an
ordinary thumb tack. Be sure to precisely balance the shelf with the
knick-knacks, (Ideally, the shelf must be perfectly balanced or the
entire shelf will fall). Tell no one of this fact. Remember: Do not use
a deep shelve. Your knick -knacks only need half of their base on the
shelf. You may also hang your frame so it pokes out into a door way up
to 2 inches so people will be reminded to "watch out" for the beauty of
your Knick-knack shelf.
(C) You may also place your most prized
Knick-knacks on a wobbly card table directly in front of the main
entrance to your home ensuring that every time the door is opened it
will hit the card table.
(D)
Your Knick-knacks should always make a
statement and always draw attention. Be creative. Be sure to move them
when people become accustomed to where they are. By always being where
they are least expected, these "Knick-knack booby traps" are guaranteed
to be a conversation starter for you and your husband for years to
come......... Trust me.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Friday, October 14, 2011
I have everything.
I was reminded tonight that I have absolutely nothing in my life to complain about. I am a selfish jackass for even thinking of whining over things that don't go my way, my job, my schooling. My entire life and everything in it is a gift and I cannot fathom how I could be worthy of it. I sit here shaking as I type this. I am overwhelmed at what I have been given and disappointed in myself that I could look at all that I have and not see the miracle of it.
I experienced horror tonight. For some reason I was thinking about friends that I had gone with to High School and decided to search around a little. I found the facebook page of one: a friend from my band geek days. Her page was filled with people expressing sympathy and heartfelt expressions. Someone asked her what the address was for her blog, as she wanted to follow what was going on. I looked up my old friend's blog and began to read about her husband's battle with cancer. She has posted pictures from day one and has kept the blog for over a year now.
She, along with the rest of her family, is brave and faithful. She writes about her husband being unable to speak, losing his mind, alternately crying and praying to God to take him, and then being filled with rage that comes from nowhere and is taken out on his family. She writes about her husband whispering to God over and over to help him face the pain, while she holds him and tells him that God is already helping.
Absolute horror.
I thought myself to be somewhat enlightened, as to what really matters in life. My beautiful wife who puts up with me, and has agreed to be by my side for eternity, come what may. My treasure, my little boy who meets me at the door when I get home from work and tells me that he's so very glad that I'm home. My stepson who, at times, I don't know how to relate to him, but I try to be a good for him though I fail as often as not.
But trying to put myself in my friend's shoes was too much for me. Darkness, dread, terror and horror.
I have no right to be unhappy. I have no right to complain. My life is a dream.
I experienced horror tonight. For some reason I was thinking about friends that I had gone with to High School and decided to search around a little. I found the facebook page of one: a friend from my band geek days. Her page was filled with people expressing sympathy and heartfelt expressions. Someone asked her what the address was for her blog, as she wanted to follow what was going on. I looked up my old friend's blog and began to read about her husband's battle with cancer. She has posted pictures from day one and has kept the blog for over a year now.
She, along with the rest of her family, is brave and faithful. She writes about her husband being unable to speak, losing his mind, alternately crying and praying to God to take him, and then being filled with rage that comes from nowhere and is taken out on his family. She writes about her husband whispering to God over and over to help him face the pain, while she holds him and tells him that God is already helping.
Absolute horror.
I thought myself to be somewhat enlightened, as to what really matters in life. My beautiful wife who puts up with me, and has agreed to be by my side for eternity, come what may. My treasure, my little boy who meets me at the door when I get home from work and tells me that he's so very glad that I'm home. My stepson who, at times, I don't know how to relate to him, but I try to be a good for him though I fail as often as not.
But trying to put myself in my friend's shoes was too much for me. Darkness, dread, terror and horror.
I have no right to be unhappy. I have no right to complain. My life is a dream.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
I'm too evolved for your "humor".
WARNING! POOR TASTE FOLLOWS!
I seriously believe that my sense of humor has evolved light years ahead of most everyone else. This is because sometimes I will say something so incredibly funny, so diabolically witty, that other people's fragile psyches just can't accept it. While I laugh hysterically, sometimes other people will just furrow their brow in an effort to keep their brains from literally exploding and oozing out of their nose. I think I was born with this enlightened sense of humor, and sometimes, it is a sorry burden that I bare.
Let me turn your thoughts back to my youth, and I shall endeavor to relate the first time that this gift of mine became apparent.
I was a band geek in High School. Except in my school, that made you one of the cool kids. Really, it's true. We even had groupies. I also had a mullet, so I was basically burying the needle on the awesome scale.
I was also in Pep band. Pep band is for geeks who think that kids who take choir still drink breast milk. And if you were a madrigal, there's a good chance that a member of the Pep band slept with your mom.
One of the songs we had to learn for Pep band was "Louie Louie". This was your basic pep band fare, and if you couldn't learn this song in one day, you had two choices: the percussionists could either practice on your face, or you could go listen to the madrigals. Most people chose the face drumming.
The version of "Louie Louie" that we played was by the group, The Kingsmen. Remember that. It's vital to this stupid story.
So one day I found myself in seminary, quite by accident I'm sure. We were reading about two ancient groups of people. One group wanted to elect judges as their form of government. They called themselves the Freemen. The other group wanted to raise a king, and they called themselves the Kingsmen. I know what you're thinking! You're thinking, "Oh Grim...you didn't." Well the answer, gentle reader, is that I sure as poopy did!
As soon as the kid reading said the words "The Kingsmen", my overactive neurons fired off an alert that an impending joke was making it's way across the peaks and valleys of my brainmeats, and would soon be exiting somewhere around my vocal cords. As you can see, I had no control over this outcome whatsoever. In a loud clear voice, I said to the rest of the class, "Hey didn't they sing Louie Louie??"
Silence.
Nothing. Not even crickets, like you hear in movies.
For the next few seconds, I could barely contain myself. My brain was on a comedic high. I marveled at my own sheer genius and struggled to maintain my mortality from the transcendent comedic value! I have never guffawed before, but had I had some encouragement, I might have experienced an actual guffaw!
But no, these slope headed mutants in my class just looked at me as if I had just recited the Pledge of Allegiance in Swahili or something.
I just sorta slunk down in my chair and tried to look as un-genius and inconspicuous as possible.
There were innumerable other episodes like this to follow, but what finally drove the point home was when my wife, as a reaction to my teasing her about something, hit me in the head with a loaf of garlic bread and I told her I was going to call the cops to report an assault with a "breadly" weapon.
Breadly...weapon.
Yes I said it, and I think I squirted Coke out of my nose shortly thereafter because I laughed about it for like three weeks after that. My wife, of course, gave me this deadpan look, turned, and walked out of the room.
This is when I finally came to the conclusion that my sense of humor must be just too evolved for mere mortals.
Sad really. But I take it one day at a time, you know.
I seriously believe that my sense of humor has evolved light years ahead of most everyone else. This is because sometimes I will say something so incredibly funny, so diabolically witty, that other people's fragile psyches just can't accept it. While I laugh hysterically, sometimes other people will just furrow their brow in an effort to keep their brains from literally exploding and oozing out of their nose. I think I was born with this enlightened sense of humor, and sometimes, it is a sorry burden that I bare.
Let me turn your thoughts back to my youth, and I shall endeavor to relate the first time that this gift of mine became apparent.
I was a band geek in High School. Except in my school, that made you one of the cool kids. Really, it's true. We even had groupies. I also had a mullet, so I was basically burying the needle on the awesome scale.
I was also in Pep band. Pep band is for geeks who think that kids who take choir still drink breast milk. And if you were a madrigal, there's a good chance that a member of the Pep band slept with your mom.
One of the songs we had to learn for Pep band was "Louie Louie". This was your basic pep band fare, and if you couldn't learn this song in one day, you had two choices: the percussionists could either practice on your face, or you could go listen to the madrigals. Most people chose the face drumming.
The version of "Louie Louie" that we played was by the group, The Kingsmen. Remember that. It's vital to this stupid story.
So one day I found myself in seminary, quite by accident I'm sure. We were reading about two ancient groups of people. One group wanted to elect judges as their form of government. They called themselves the Freemen. The other group wanted to raise a king, and they called themselves the Kingsmen. I know what you're thinking! You're thinking, "Oh Grim...you didn't." Well the answer, gentle reader, is that I sure as poopy did!
As soon as the kid reading said the words "The Kingsmen", my overactive neurons fired off an alert that an impending joke was making it's way across the peaks and valleys of my brainmeats, and would soon be exiting somewhere around my vocal cords. As you can see, I had no control over this outcome whatsoever. In a loud clear voice, I said to the rest of the class, "Hey didn't they sing Louie Louie??"
Silence.
Nothing. Not even crickets, like you hear in movies.
For the next few seconds, I could barely contain myself. My brain was on a comedic high. I marveled at my own sheer genius and struggled to maintain my mortality from the transcendent comedic value! I have never guffawed before, but had I had some encouragement, I might have experienced an actual guffaw!
But no, these slope headed mutants in my class just looked at me as if I had just recited the Pledge of Allegiance in Swahili or something.
I just sorta slunk down in my chair and tried to look as un-genius and inconspicuous as possible.
There were innumerable other episodes like this to follow, but what finally drove the point home was when my wife, as a reaction to my teasing her about something, hit me in the head with a loaf of garlic bread and I told her I was going to call the cops to report an assault with a "breadly" weapon.
Breadly...weapon.
Yes I said it, and I think I squirted Coke out of my nose shortly thereafter because I laughed about it for like three weeks after that. My wife, of course, gave me this deadpan look, turned, and walked out of the room.
This is when I finally came to the conclusion that my sense of humor must be just too evolved for mere mortals.
Sad really. But I take it one day at a time, you know.
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