The Millionaire and His Wife....

Okay, back to the island. You've got plenty of time to daydream on the island. You've still got that lottery ticket in your pocket, that you bought just before you left on this fateful trip. One never knows! You just might be a multi-millionaire. Well, you're certainly getting your dollar's worth out of that ticket, as you plan what to do with your hopefully newfound wealth, once you get rescued of course....

So, what ARE you going to do? Personally, the first thing I'd buy is a satellite telephone..... What are your million dollar dreams?

Would you believe.....?

With hardly any fanfare, Don Adams passed from our world. He is best known for his role as the bumbling spy Maxwell Smart on "Get Smart", or better yet, to my younger readers, as the voice of the cartoon character Smart inspired, Inspector Gadget.

I'm convinced that his "shoe phone" was the inspiration for cell phones.

I grew up with Max. He made me laugh. Even the beginning of the show, with him walking through a gazillion doors to get to his office, was hilarious. Lines like "Would you believe" and "Sorry about that, Chief" became lexicons in the American language.

And now he's gone. Without any fuss or ado. Bless you Don. You gave me one of the greatest gifts a child can receive. You made me laugh.

It's been a long time....

Sorry folks, for having been so inactive here of late. I've just been busier than a (insert your favorite busy cliche here). It is Fall, which means the students are back. The coffee shop has been extremely busy, as has the bar, which means I work a lot. It is also football season, so home games have me working 45 hour weekends, which sucks, a lot, but is profitable.

Yes, you caught me. The "Stranded" theme is a just a cheap trick to be able to post something without doing much thinking. Okay, it's an exercise in thinking, and lets me get to know my readers a little better, but a cheap ploy nonetheless. Doesn't mean I'm going to quit doing it.....

One more word of note. I added a word verification for posting comments on my blog. I've been getting deluged with spam of late, and want to sort out the scumbags from my readers and friends. Sorry to make it a little tougher to comment, but it is the necessary evil, when the world of spamsters invade my personal webspace. Thanks for your understanding.

The Skipper Too.....

Okay. The Skipper. Trapped, for years, on this little tropical oasis, with nothing but fish, bananas and coconuts to eat. Never lost weight. What's up with that?

You've spent the last few days viewing horrific movies. You know you had to. Kind of like Everest. It was there. But now you want to scrub your eyes out with bleach. Lo, and behold, another box! You tear the box to shreds in hopes that inside there just may be a shotgun and clay-pigeon launcher, just so that you may get some entertainment value out of those lousy DVDs.

But wait! Could it be? The fixin's for the absolute best meal ever! All your favorites! No coconut delight tonight! So, honey, what's for dinner?

Pot roast, cooked to perfection. So tender it falls apart with a fork. Spiced just right. Not too heavy, just a hint. Fresh egg noodles, slightly aldente. Green peas. Canned are fine, but most assuredly not frozen. A nice savory gravy. All blended into a casserole-like fusion of yummy goodness. Mmmmm...

What's on your menu?

With Gilligan.....

Gilligan was screw-up. Messed up everybody's chances to get off the island. So, while in a sort of similar vein, meaning screw-ups, here's the next one.

You find another box. Inside is a handy-dandy portable DVD player that hooks up to solar power on the CD player. Yay! And look, movies! Five of 'em! You've now got another form of entertainment on this boring isle! But wait! They're the five worst movies ever made! Oh, no! You know you're going to watch them, because, hey, what else is there to do? In our quest to stay sane on this beautiful, but otherwise boring island, we'll take what entertaining venues we can, but man, these movies want to make us chuck it all and jump from the highest cliff. What are these five, dreaded turkeys?

Mine would definitely include Weekend at Bernies. What a huge piece of dreck! Ugh. I actually got into the theater for free, and wanted my money back.

Obscure, yes, but definitely makes the list: Manos, Hand of Fate. Wow. Bad. Big bad. This little jewel was brought to my attention by Mystery Science Theater. Even they could not liven it up.

Battlefield Earth. ::shudder:: I know you're a Scientologist, John, but what the hell were you thinking??

Gigli. Enough said.

Yor, the Hunter from the Future. Very bad. Makes absolutely no sense. None. Futuristic race out to kill cavemen. Uh, what??

Your turn.

...Enchanted Desert Isle....

Okay, it was a tropical isle, not desert, but what do want for mid-20th century programming...?

Here's the 2nd installment of the Castaway Quiz:

You are not alone on the island. You discover, much to your joy, your man Friday. Who is it? Who will you spend the next indeterminate amount of exiled time with? It could be anyone, living or dead, famous or not, known to you or not. It does not necessarily have to be sexual. It could be an intellectual. Or an entertainer. Or a lover. Or just an old friend. Who shall it be?

I'll go ahead and answer this one first. My choice would be a young lady by the name of Patty Jones. I went to school with her, way back when. She was, and is, representative of everything wonderful. She is quite intelligent. Has a sense of humor that won't quit. Knows how to have fun. And yes, she is very attractive.

Why her? She represents all of my unrequited love. No, that's not quite right. Yes, I had a huge crush on her, as did most every male to ever meet her. But that's not entirely it... I think it is more that she represents the ultimate fear of rejection. I've come to get to know her a little better over the years, though I lost contact about a year ago (and would love to find her again). I would love the opportunity to become better friends (and no, not sexually, necessarily). Do I love her? Of course not. Do I still have a crush? Maybe a little, but the desire to be her friend far outweighs that. Ultimately, I'd love to confront that fear, and get to know her as a complete person. And the fact that all my "old stories and jokes" would be new to her is an added bonus.

Okay, I've bared my soul. Share.

A Challenge...

Seems my old friend Marius has dropped the gauntlet. I shall attempt to accept with as much grace as I may muster. His blog is linked to the right, over there.... As I've previously mentioned, he's deranged. No, wait, he's fun. Yeah, that's it. Fun.

The ship wound up on the shore of this....

Okay, several ideas on one theme. I'll only hit you with them one at a time, so as not to overtax your huge craniums. (You've got to be smart, you're reading this, right?)

The theme is this: You are trapped on a deserted isle, ala Gilligan (god rest our Little Buddy's soul), or closer to the theme, Tom Hanks in Castaway. Bear this in mind, as the theme will crop up again in the not so distant future.

Amidst all the Fed Ex packages, you can't resist opening just one. Inside is a solar powered CD player and five CDs, which just so happen to be your ultimate choice of "I can only listen to five for the next undetermined period of time, so these are my best of the best". What CDs are they?

I just came up with this idea, so I don't even have my 5 narrowed down yet (my ultimate list is about 20-25...). I'll post 'em in the comments, later.

Catching up...

I haven't posted in a while, so thought I'd give a brief summation of the last week or so.

Last weekend: Worked like a dog. In a nutshell, it sucked. I worked all day at the coffee shop, left at 9pm and headed for the bar, and worked until 5am. Got up on Saturday, went to the bar at 2pm and worked 'til 5am. Sunday got up and went to coffee shop, and worked all day, until close.

That's pretty much it. That was my weekend. No frills. No fun. No tales of excitement. Yippee. Okay, I made some moolah, but had a lot of cheapskates, too.

I'm still trying to "heal up" from the weekend. I'm getting too old to be on my feet for 15 hours a day. My poor body aches all over. Even my hair hurts. Okay, not really, but you get the picture. Tired. I'm tired, tired of playing the game. Ain't it a freakin' shame. I'm so...let's face it, everything below the waist is ka-put.

My Love Life: Pretty much non-existent, which is fine by me. I'm still kind of healing, so there's no rush on that. When the right time comes, and the right girl comes along, then wonderful. Until that day, I am doing just fine.

I do, however, have a sort of encounter hanging in the air. Not. The local CBS advertising rep, Kelly, is a very bold, brash lady. Very New Yorker. She's a sweetheart, but pretty much says whatever is on her mind. She brought in a poster for us to hang in the shop, advertising some function or another. On the poster is a picture of a lovely young lady in a bikini, sitting on a Harley Davidson. I mentioned that she was very cute. Kelly went off on how she was a good friend of hers, very smart (she's an accountant when she isn't working as a model), very sweet, has a great sense of humor, and that the two of us should meet, and would make a great couple. Ummmm. Riiiiiiiight. Hello? I know you're standing here talking to me, but can you actually see me? I am not exactly the "going out with model" kind of guy. She's young, gorgeous, has a belly you could bounce a quarter off of... I'm not handsome. I'm not exactly in shape. I'm not rich. This girl wouldn't give me the time of day. Yes, I realize that I am pre-judging this poor girl before ever meeting her, but c'mon! Let's be realistic! My self-confidence is pretty low to start with, I don't need to add to it by getting shot down by a model... Wait, maybe that's a good thing? If you're going to get shot down, might as well be by someone waaaay out of your league. N'est pas?

Worklife: One of my employees tried to kill me. Sort of. I accidentally bumped her one day, and knocked her halfway across the shop, so it's become an ongoing kind of game. She'll start acting all tough and viscious, and I'll give her a nudge that sends her back stumbling. In typical fashion, she looked at me the other day and said, "I'm going to get you, some time." Five minutes later, when I was talking to a customer in the drive through, she opened the under counter refrigerator, and slammed the door into my Achilles tendon. Ouch. I almost went down, but managed to stay on my feet. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of putting me on the ground. She was very sorry, and insisted, over and over that it was an accident, but I have to wonder.... Hmmmmm.......

Had a drunk wander into the shop the other night. Asked Josh to call 9-4-1-1. What is that? Information about the police? Insisted that his wife and son stole his 3 cars. Ended up passing out in the parking lot. Poor Josh gets all the creepies.

Apart from that, it's been a relatively uneventful week. No drunk girls hitting on me... Hey, that's it! I'll get the model drunk! And then.....stay up all night keeping her from pulling a Jim Morrison.... Naw, that won't work. Nothing spoils romance like a technicolor yawn.....

Anyway, that's all for me. I'll have to come up with something actually witty and interesting for my next post. Well, don't quote me on that.....

Weekend Update

Labor Day weekend past was a mixed bag for me, emotionally and physically. It was a weekend of ups and downs.

The weekend did not start off too terribly well, as I had to work at the bar Friday night. This was the first home game of the season, with a brand new coach, and things promised to be busy. The bar manager knew over a month ago that I needed the weekend off, but insisted that I work the Friday eve. While I really wanted to be with my friends, I was lamenting over the small fortune I'd be losing, so I ventured forth once more into the breach. Nothing much to really report, other than being busier than an insert your favorite busy cliche here.

I finally finished my normal cleanup duties, and then my extra "getting ready for a home game" duties, and headed off for the event, at 4:45am.... It's amazing how fast the trip actually goes when there is not a soul on the road but myself. I made great time. Too great, in fact. I arrived an hour before the gate reopened, so I headed a little further down the road looking for a quick place to grab breakfast. I finally found a BK Steakhouse (Burger King, for the unhip), choked down a cardiovascular nightmare, sipped some swill that I won't even pretend to be coffee, and headed back to the event site.

Gate was open, and after chatting with some old friends for about 15 minutes, constantly insisting that I had an important meeting with a tent and a pillow, I headed for the reservations hall. I was informed that since I wasn't pre-registered, and was paying cash, that I'd have to come back at 8:00, when the cash box was due to arrive. I should've taken this as a sign.... Oh, well, the long nap I intended would keep for another hour, I suppose.

I headed down to the encampment to unpack the truck. There was my tent, set up in the front of the camp. Good squires! I'd be able to register and head directly to go, collect 200 z's. I grabbed my box of garb and lugged it inside the tent. The empty tent. The terribly empty, no bed containing tent. The no fan included for the blazing hot weather tent. Bad squires! Oh well. I got unpacked and headed back out to reservations. The cash box was in (yay) so I paid my fees and headed back to camp. The air mattress got thrown in the tent in my absence, along with an air pump, so I filled it up in time to decide that there was no way in Hades that I could sleep in that oven. I stole a squire's tent, complete with fan, and managed to catch a much needed 4 hours.

Upon awakening, I showered and got ready for the grand processional. Being a Baron means having duties, so I accept this fate. All of representatives of the groups of the Kingdom were lined up in their proper order, and we proceded to...wait. Somehow, three of the four Barons of the Kingdom ended up together. We decided that there must be a baron magnet around. We then wondered what a group of barons should be called. Considering the...um....gross tonnage of the barons assembled, we came up with "Beef". A group would be a "Beef of Barons". The Baronesses, while not gathered (no magnet), were determined to be a "Bevvy", as there was no way in Hell any of us were going to call them Beefs. The procession started and we were on our merry little way. During court, one of my squires was called forth. He and his partner had won the joust tourney earlier. Now, squires? When your knight, who had been sleeping during the tournement, asks you "How did the fighting go?", and you won the list, you do not reply "Okay."

After court, we headed back to camp to unwind, have dinner, and commence to party like it's 1299.... Normally, the big parties end up in our camp, but there were so many other activities that we skipped that part. There was Thorstenn's vigil, and the Associates Party and the Peers Party. I spent time with Thorstenn, imparting my sage wisdom as a knight to an almost knight. Then it was time to head over to the Peers Party (though I'd seriously considered crashing the Associates Party just for fun...). The group was small, but jovial. After some socializing, we decided on a theme for the party. It was: Ham, Eclair, Beer, Breastesses. One had to eat a chunk of ham with an eclair, take a big chug of beer, and kiss Mistress Melesse's breasts (only the exposed upper version....it was a silly game, but a clean one, mind you). I don't recall how this actually got started, other than a couple of us actually trying the ham and eclairs together, on a dare. Not really all that bad. Not great, mind you, but not that bad. The last part got added when my squire stole my idea and crashed the Peer Party. We made him do the routine, adding the beer and breasts part, for extra embarrassment. I think it was all Sir Bron's idea. He's such a troublemaker. My squire did the rest, but balked at the breasts. Squires.... Anyway, that was about all the excitement I could stand for one evening, and the 4 hours of sleep weren't cutting it, so it was off to bed for me.

Sunday started off with one of my squires nagging me to go see Dr. Bill (a SCAdian who happens to be a chiropractor). My neck had been bothering me for about a week, and the good doc happed to have his tools with him. I lazed around for a while, not wanting to venture out into the weather, which was, I believe, about London Broil setting. After enough nagging, I headed out to find the right cabin. The doctor was in, and worked on my neck, and also did his magic to my shoulder, which has been messed up for a long time. I felt like a million bucks, while it lasted anyway. The neck is still fine, but the shoulder only lasted about 6 hours, at which point it hurt even worse. I don't blame Bill, mind you. It didn't really hurt worse, but after feeling no pain, for the first time in a long time, when the pains came back, it felt like it was worse than ever. I suppose one just gets used to living in pain... I'll have to make another appointment. I'm sure that after more treatment, the pain just may go away for good. Wouldn't that be nice?

There were several tournements on Sunday, and I got to play "hero" by running down to the feast hall and picking up a box of popsicles to distribute to the melting horde. They were a much needed treat.

Sunday turned sour when it was discovered that a friend's husband had died suddenly, and she had to be rushed away from the event. I felt miserable for her, and also for her friends (and his), who were all devasted.

The day took an even bigger turn for the worse by my discovering that another dear friend is fighting cancer. She is a strong woman, and bound and determined to win this battle, and I know that she can, but it still hit home pretty hard. I've only known her, since, like, forever, so the news tore me up fairly badly.

Since our plans for dinner had fallen through (see earlier post regarding the psycho hose beast), Goldstar invited us over to dinner. They had plenty of food and needed to get rid of it, and we were all more than willing to help out. They had pork, and steaks, and venison. Very yummy. Thanks, guys, for your hospitality. Sorry that I wasn't much company at that point, but I was feeling pretty low.

Some of the event crew came by our camp and asked if we'd help clean up the dining pavillion after feast, which we readily agreed to do. That was probably the biggest highlight of the weekend - watching the incredible amount of folks who showed up to help. The place was cleaned and packed in no time. The best part was watching the big, round, white tables roll their way uphill in the dark. The rollers themselves could not be seen, just large white tablets marching across the field. It was the march of the giant Trimarian aspirin....

After the cleanup, a couple of us decided to check on some friends who were grieving over the death, and made sure they were doing all right. As a bit of mood lifter, a pinata was provided. Nothing makes you feel better than beating the snot out of a tissue paper zero....

Afterwards, I wandered back to my camp, as I didn't feel much like carousing. I was just in the mood to sit at "home" and enjoy a beer or twelve. During this time, a visitor to our camp came home, well into her cups. I attempted to steer her toward her own tent, but she insisted that she wasn't going to sleep alone. Here we go again! Twice, in one week! I told her that she wouldn't be alone, and could sleep in my tent, and managed to get her there, with quite a bit of swaying. I got her plopped down onto my air mattress, and she was out cold in seconds. I went back outside and rejoined the group. They insisted that I should be canonized... but don't you have to be dead for that? No thanks.

Everyone was worried about where I was going to sleep, but it wasn't a big issue. There were a couple of spare tents around, as well as the one belonging to Miss Inebriated, so I would be just fine.

Well, that really wasn't much of an issue anyway. After I while I heard gurgling noises from my tent. Visions of Jim Morrison filled my head, so I rushed in to look after her. Sure enough, she was lying on her back, and, um...., ridding herself of the excess alcohol. You know, the technicolor yawn. She was vomiting, okay? I managed to get her rolled onto her side and held her there while she continued to dump the contents of her stomach all over my tent. She finally stopped and passed back out. Well, that's inaccurate, as she never really came to. After that, I was too fearful for her to leave her alone, so I sat down beside the air mattress and proceded to watch her, all night. She did get sick again, but was able to at least sit up for this one. The morning brought one hung-over little girl.... The air matress and my ground carpet were a total write off, but I was able to save my clothing...

Twice. Twice in one week! Now, if I could only get the sober girls to throw themselves at me like that, I'd have it made. One of my squires says I am inflicted with "White Knight Syndrome". I guess he's right.

I had to work at noon, so I packed as quickly as possible. It was an hour and a half ride, home for a shower and a half hour nap, and then off to work for 12 hours. It was the longest 12 hours of my life... but I made it.

That pretty much sums up the weekend. It was filled with happy moments, grief-stricken moments, and not much sleep in between.

If there's any moral in all this, I would have to say it is: Enjoy your friends every moment that you are able. And tell them that you love them. Let them know.

Oh, yeah. And I'm the eternal nice schmuck.

Escape from LA...

We have a "comments box" here at the coffee shop. The majority of cards left are wonderful. People love our shop, love the atmosphere, the homey feel, the great staff, etc.

One particular card, left last night, disturbs me a little. Someone was complaining about the staff having a discussion regarding the victims of Katrina, saying that they should all be shot, and how insensitive that is, especially to those with relatives in the area.

To this person (and I realize that they are not reading this, but I'm venting here...) who left this comment, I have this to say. If you are going to eavesdrop, then at least pay attention. I happened to have had a similar conversation with one of the employees who worked last night. The gist of the discourse had nothing to do with the victims, but those preying upon them.

There are groups of armed thugs roaming the flooded streets, generally behaving as though they were extras in a bad John Carpenter movie. Widescale looting, shooting at rescuers, not allowing people to leave, stealing food from the trapped, raping, pillaging..., and many other acts of depravity, victimizing the victims.

THESE are the people who need to be weeded out like the vermin that they are. THESE are the scum which need to be erradicated. THESE offscourings of society deserve to be shot on sight. And if any of THESE people are your relatives, then you should be ashamed, not indignant.

So, Mr./Ms. comment card writer, I've one last thing to say to you: While your comments are misdirected, I support your right to utter (write) them. Just as I support the right of my employees to feel so outraged at these outlaws. That's the funny and often unnerving thing about freedom of speech; it works both ways.

But if you are going to grouse, at least know what you are talking about.

Are the stars out tonight....

Okay, this is a direct rip-off from a friend's blog, but it's a guy kind of thing, and has been around for quite a while, though it did make it to the mainstream thanks to "Friends". I'm talking about "The List".

"The List" is a list of celebrities with whom you would like to have, er..., carnal knowledge of, and your spouse, better half, significant other, life partner, whatever, can not get mad nor make even the smallest fuss. No repercussions. In fact, you ought to get a friendly little punch on the shoulder and a "way to go!"

The reason "The List" is so string free is that its nominees (if you will) are pretty much unobtainable. Sure, there is the one in a gazillion chance that you both happen to be at the same place at the same time, the planets are aligned, you are the only other person around, she/he is blind drunk, expieriencing pon farr (forget it, it's a sci/fi geek thing, and if you understood, you *are* a SF geek...) and 4 or 5 signs of the apocolypse have already appeared...., but otherwise, a night of sweaty monkey love with said celebrity is pretty much a foregone "riiiiiiiiiiight".

I am curious as to whom, you, my faithful readers, would choose.

The stipulations of "The List" are as follows:

* Just as your spousal unit may raise no objections to your "List", you may raise none to his/hers.
* The persons upon your list must be celebrities or the well-nigh unobtainable level - the hot neighbor does not count.
* The nominees do not have to be currently famous, but they do need to be currently....current. Living, that is. (Otherwise, Dorothy Stratten would make my list in a heartbeat.) There has to be *some* chance of success, however minute, so the departed are right out. (and do *not* go there!)
* "The List" is limited to 5 (five) names. Hey, you've got to put some thought process into it, and not just name any and all celebrities willy-nilly.

To start you off, I give you my "List". Yes, they are all drop dead gorgeous, but they all have other qualities which I admire as well. (And you know perfectly well that I'm not talking about *those* kind of qualities....)

Jessica Alba - witty, and a scathing sense of humor
Katherine Zeta Jones - all that, and a brain to boot
Scarlett Johansson - wit and wisdom; and I'd love to find out what Bill Murray whispered to her...
Charlize Theron - charm and grace; buckets of it
Famke Janssen - charm, grace, lots of class, and she's Jean Grey!

Okay, that's my "List". See? All celebrities. I don't even have a spousal unit of any type, so I'm pretty much free to strike out with anyone, but I stuck to the rules. No cute neighbors. No "hot chick in that club I belong to that I want to impress". All unobtainable, or so nearly so as to be the same thing.

Indulge me. Share yours. You don't even need to explain why they made your "List", unless you want to. Fess up, folks.