Sick Day

Essie stayed home sick yesterday with a nasty stomach virus. Well, I got it too, and today we both stayed home. It was the first time that we both stayed home together when we were both actually sick... Heh... And as you can imagine, it was a pretty uneventful morning and afternoon here in the ol' cabin in the woods. (I'm sure the house smelled of sickness and near-death.) The entire day was spent asleep, with Essie on the couch, and me in the bedroom. Finally, late this afternoon we managed to get ourselves up and around, and started the sanitation process. We made a quick jaunt into town to get some chicken soup, crackers and 7-Up. We left the windows open while we were gone so the house could air out. Essie made a great point as I dipped into my soup. "Why is it that when you are sick, the things you are never hungry for, sound so delicious?" So true... I thought. I never crave chicken soup. I feel well enough to consider going to work tomorrow, and Essie says she feels the same. I have the lower inevitible lower back pain that one gets from laying in bed all day, but overall I am just a little bit of stretching and a dose of Advil away from feeling normal... Aside from the tiredness that has engulfed me. It's 8:15, and Essie has already gone to bed... Which is where I am heading soon.

Un-American Gothic

Essie came across this article tonight and passed it my way.

It seems that on a recent trip to Spain, President Obama and the First Lady took time out of their schedule to pose for a photograph with the Prime Minister's family. Apparently the photograph is causing an uproar in Spain, because the PM's teenage daughters are Goth.

Now... I have never heard of Gawker, the website which posted the article. As far as I can tell it is amateurish at best, or with the benefit of the doubt at least a poor translation to proper Spanish. The post accompanying the photo is horribly written if not a bit confusing... However the comments following the article are great, a reflection of real Goths weighing in with heart-felt remarks. For instance, this quote: Their parents seem pretty cool about it...

And I love this guy who calls the girls out:

Goths don't smile, he says.

Awesome, dude. Your point is taken. (But apparently Goths DO have giant satellite TV dishes?)

Goths seem to take a lot of pride in their vampirish appearance and I like the fact that in order to be Goth, one must abide by a strict rule regiment. It seems they are always trying to out-Goth each other, and even have websites which not only show off their Gothness, but even lets John Q. Public cast a vote to rate each person's Gothniticity.

When I first saw the photo of the Prime Minister's daughters, I had to look hard to see what was relevant. Essie pointed out to me the slouching figures of the girls and their long black dresses. I could see a dab of heavy make-up and that devilish grin on each of their faces, but as far as Goths go, I can't imagine that they would score very high on Goth or Not. (I'm sure they toned it down a bit for the photo with the American President, possibly at their father's request.) Also I was struck that these girls were 13 and 16, as the article states. At initial glance, I would have taken them for women in their 30's. I guess that's what Gothy make-up will do for ya.

Mom might do pretty good on her own on Is It a Man or Woman?, if in fact that was a website that did exist. She reeks of feminine-macho-masculinity in her black dress and tights and her face resembles Roy Horn, the man-wife of Siegfried Fischbacher of Las Vegas fame. I hope she doesn't get mauled by a tiger. That would be tragic. (I wonder how Goth's react to tiger-maulings... I bet most would think they're cool.)

President Obama meanwhile, looks exactly like the cardboard cut-outs that you see in the novelty shops in downtown Washington.

Despite the terrible writing, I think that the article is trying to say that papa Prime Minister is trying hard to keep his daughters out of the public eye of his country and that he may even be a bit embarrassed of the "lifestyle" his daughters have adopted. The author, Pareene understands the girls' choice to be Goth, and might even be Goth himself as he states, It is a natural part of life, becoming a teenaged goth. I wonder if he also understands that it is a natural part of teenage life to go to school and learn how to write.

Hmmm... Maybe Gawker is hiring.

Ahhh... Love the smell of the weekend...

I had this song in my head for over an hour now. For the life of me I couldn't place where I had heard it before, or who sang it. Finally, after I couldn't take it a second longer, I put a line of the lyrics I could remember into the Google search engine, and was relieved to find out that it was good ol' Johnny Cash. It was definitely one of those Duh! moments. Essie and I are kicking it with my daughter this weekend plus her two young grandsons, so I most likely wont be on until early next week. I definitely plan to post a little more regularly then... Until... Here's Johnny: Where the road is dark and the seed is sowed Where the gun is cocked and the bullet's cold Where the miles are marked in the blood and gold I'll meet you further on up the road Got on my dead man's suit and my smilin' skull ring My lucky graveyard boots and a song to sing I got a song to sing, it keeps me out of the cold And I'll meet you further on up the road. Further on up the road Further on up the road Where the way is dark and the night is cold One sunny mornin' we'll rise I know And I'll meet you further on up the road. Now I been out in the desert, just doin' my time Searchin' through the dust, lookin' for a sign If there's a light up ahead, well brother I don't know But I got this fever burnin' in my soul Further on up the road Further on up the road Further on up the road Further on up the road One sunny mornin' we'll rise I know And I'll meet you further on up the road One sunny mornin' we'll rise I know And I'll meet you further on up the road. Have a GREAT weekend... Go Hawks!

Wrapped Around my Linger

A friend stopped by tonight. With a case of Miller Lite. By the way, does Miller, or Budweiser for that matter, have exclusive rights to the spelling of "Lite?" It has no other meaning in that context of spelling than for a description for a beer with drinkability. Does it? Is that word in the dictionary? Is it exclusive to beer? Anyway, Tom stopped by with a full case, which we managed to put a big dent into. Thankfully there will be no driving tonight, so rest assured, no additional dents... I'm not such a drinker these days, contrary to my obvious drinking these days, but I had a rot gut full of emptiness, that needed a tank full of gasoline. A case of beer is exactly what the doctor ordered. (How cool would it be, if my doctor actually prescribed to me a case of beer?) Ok, since this conversation keeps wrapping itself around itself, I am signing out and going to bed. Ciao world. I've missed you.

Slow and easy wins the race

Yes. Indeed it does.

The Bigfoot Diaries

A closed mind is a naive mind. We've had some beautiful weather here in central Iowa lately. This morning before work I took a drive through Ledges State Park with hopes of snapping a good photograph or two. From my house I could see a nice cloud of steamy fog lifting above the Des Moines River, and with the blue sky over head, I figured that I could find some photogenic spots. This picture was taken in the low valley. Straight ahead out of view is the Des Moines River, and you can see the fog that has settled above the water. The Ledges are just that... Rocky ledges and sandstone bluffs that tower up out of the Des Moines River Valley. It is a wonderful little piece of Iowa with clear water streams, some of which cross the windy road that snakes through the park. With miles upon miles of forest trails, it sits just on the other side of the hill where my house is. I took this picture from the valley because it was my best view... There is far too much tree cover to get a good photo from higher ground. I will have better luck this Fall. Nobody has asked me about the name of this blog. I call it the Bigfoot Diaries partly because of where I live... The densely forested Des Moines River bottom, and partly because if Bigfoot does indeed exist, he is only a chromosome or two from being one of us. Essentially we are all Bigfoot, in a daily struggle to sustain within our environment, without his obvious demands of privacy. I'm not saying that I do believe in Sasquatch necessarily, but I do believe in the possibility of his existence. There is a difference. It's fun to imagine that there is a creature out there that has the intelligence beyond that of our own, and the senses beyond those of common animals that live in the wilderness... You know... With a heightened sense of smell, sight, and hearing. I might try to explain exactly what my beliefs are from time to time, and offer a view that you might not be familiar with. I can't help it. I'm a geek when it comes to the weird and un-normal. And sometimes I'm a geek otherwise.

Conway Twitter

I dont have a Twitter account... but it's something I have been thinking about doing. I failed miserably at Facebook, and I like the simplicity that Twitter offers. It's kind of like Facebook without all the drama and insane applications... At least that is how I am perceiving it. Anyway, in homage to the late country music superstar who wrote creepy sex-laden lyrics, I think I would like to make my user name be Conway Twitter. Yeah. Ok... This is probably a good example of why I shouldn't post on here before 7:00 am or at least until I am fully awake.

Kanye Twitty

Kanye has made quite the name for himself lately. He rudely interrupted Taylor Swift's acceptance speech for an award she won at the video awards this past weekend, and then embarked on talk show circuit tour apologizing for his behavior. Some times bad publicity is the best pub, and that's how it seems to be working out for Mr. West. Apparently he has a new CD due to come out soon, and it seemed a good time to be generating a buzz. I dont know anything about Kanye except for what I have heard about him this week. I wouldn't be able to differentiate a Kanye West song from say... Lil Wayne or any other artist from the current hip-hop genre. If I have heard some of his music I haven't realized it, and until his face was splashed all over the media from this latest escapade with Taylor Swift, I didn't even know what he looked like. (I recognized his name from the shelves in the CD department at Best Buy, but for the longest time I thought the name I was reading was Kayne (as in Payne), and not Kanye (as in Kon-Yay). That should tell you how far out of the loop I have become, or at least to what level I listen to the current Hip-Hop sound.) So when I was listening to the local radio talk shows and they were making Kanye West jokes, my mind began to wander... Kanye is a very particular name... Very unique. I couldn't stop thinking about the pronunciation of it, and how it rhymes with Conway. Obviously there is only one Conway, and that's Twitty. As far as I know, there is no other person in the world with the first name of Conway, and I am wondering if there is anybody else in the world with the name of Kanye. It's too bad that Mr. Twitty has died, because I am thinking that the two could have been great together. Would creepy sex-laden old time country songs mix well with the current Hip-Hop genre? You bet your sweet ass they would. What an incredible new sound that would be! With the help of an internet lyrics site (and a little bit of your imagination) the new sound might resonate something like this: (Conway) Hello Darlin It's been a long time (Kanye) I'm tryin to catch the beat, uh I'm tryin to catch the beat I'm tryin to catch the beat, uh uh, uh I'm tryin to catch the beat I need some tracks you tryin to pull tracks out And my rhymes as fittin to blow you tryin to blow backs out Well ok You twisted my arm, I'll asist with the charm, aiyyo Ain't you meet that chick at that conference with yo moms And she's the bomb (Conway) In those tight fitting jeans (Kanye) Now I ain't never tell you to put down ya hands And if ya losin yo high than smoke again (Conway) She needs a lover with a slow hand (Kanye) Yo last week I made one hundred grand (Together) Muuuuuuuuuthaaaafuuuuuuuuckaaas... Yeah boy... That's what I'm talking about.

Never Do This

Just for kicks I typed the word Google into Google's search engine, and clicked on the I'm feeling lucky tab. I sat in eerie silence for about ten seconds watching the screen, and instead of the page simply resetting itself as I imagined it would, the screen went blank and my laptop started emitting smoke from the disc drive. Frantically, I tried to shut it down via the Ctrl/Alt/Delete method but to no avail. After a loud sucking noise and a POP! my Dell vanished into thin air leaving a small puff of dust in it's place. It disappeared completely, taking it's shadow with it. The only thing that remains is a small black burn stain on my wooden desk top. (If you are reading this and wondering how I am typing this if my computer has disappeared... Um yeah... Wish I had a good answer for you.)

Back to the Woods (photos)

Essie and I spent much of Labor Day outside. It is that great time of the year when colors are just beginning to change, and wild life is thriving. The following are some photos that we took.

Too Much Oxygen

Somewhere, in an office in Hollywood, where all the people resemble plastic Barbie and Ken Dolls, somebody with a wicked bone in her body hates fat people. Her name is Lisa Ann Walter. Hmmm... she thought. How can I absolutely ridicule fat people without letting on that I am making fun of them? After brainstorming for awhile she came up with an idea: What if I started a TV program that features plus-sized contestants who dress up in clothes meant to fit small children and put them in a dance competition... All under the guise that they will lose weight? Wiley Coyote, you are a genius! Thus, Dance Your Ass Off was born. Thank God for reality TV. Or perhaps more accurately, thank the devil for his part in the decline of our modern culture. We pay pretty good money for the privilege to have satellite television, and though it's nice to have baseball at hand when ever I want it, I am amazed at the crap that fills up the channels in between. Screw health care... Our government needs to regulate reality TV. It's at a point now where nothing is unabashed or taboo, and it seems to recreate itself based off it's own model of trailer park entertainment. Like modern day Black Death, it has spread to unthinkable levels. The more we tune in to it, the bigger grasp it has on our society, and the more it drowns us with it's immoral declination. Thanks to the Oxygen channel, we are prone to a Labor Day marathon of such immoralization. If I wanted to watch fat people dance, I could just go up the road to the Southside Bar. Living in Iowa where the girls are cornfed on potatoes and Iowa Beef, it's not uncommon to see big girls tearing it up under the strobe light. These gals seem to travel in packs like wolves... Coming into the bar later at night when the young drunk buck is more likely to consider taking them home, maybe... and they think nothing of stepping onto the dance floor and shaking their gelatin in some kind of mesmerizing ritualistic tremble to gain that young buck's attention. Living in Iowa has it's advantages, but going to the Southside late at night is not one of them. It's too bad Chris Farley left us early because he and his SNL mates would have a hey-day making a parody of Dance Your Ass Off. Just the same it is all good. He might not have lived long enough to see the reality television genre, so in that sense he has out-survived us all.

Labor Day

Happy Labor Day, kids. And a big THANK-YOU to all of you veterans out there in the United States Work Force, whom without, would just put us in the classification of one great big slacker country. Your 40 hours a week are most appreciated!

Farve from Over... A Vikings Fan's Perspective

It seems I've scored a ticket to the Monday night Vikings/Packers game in Minneapolis on October 5th.

My pal Eric, who is a season ticket holder, has an extra ticket. Eric is extremely passionate about his Vikings. He has been ever since we were kids when he had posters of Carl Eller and Jim Marshall hanging in his bedroom. Still though, he is a little bit jaded about the whole Brett Favre thing.

In the email to me in which he offered the tickets, he wrote:

Brett Farve in purple? I've seen it in person now, and it still don't seem right. From a Vikes fan perspective, I don't like the idea of enemy #1 being the Vikes quarterback. From a pure football perspective, he may have a good first half, but will he have anything left in the tank down the stretch? And if no, wouldn't we have been better with one of the other guys from the start...

...But in the end, I am a Vikes fan. If Billy (expletive) Ray Cyrus were their quarterback, I would shake my head, and cheer cheer cheer.

Question- how will Farve deal with being in the huddle with someone who is a MUCH BETTER football player than he is at this stage in his career?

I can only assume Eric is referring to Adrian Peterson, whom many consider to be the greatest and most promising player in the NFL today. (Personally, I think the addition of Favre to this lineup will help Peterson, as it will take pressure off of his running game.)

Flashing his true Vikings colors, Eric added:

He does get some bonus points from me for disrupting the Packer faithful with his drama.

Now it seems as if the Vikings might be willing to sell the farm because of Favre's arrival in Minnesota...

In light of the Matt Cassell injury situation in Kansas City, Tavaris Jackson might look pretty good in red and white.

Hmmm...

Ad Nauseum dept.

In light of just a couple of months of serious television watching, I have compiled a list of the most annoying commercials that are currently on the air... Let's go with the top 3. Progressive Insurance Ok... Who beat Crystal Gayle with an ugly stick... And why did they make her so socially inept... And put her in these super-annoying commercials? Somebody in a recent conversation actually told me they thought this chick was HOT. Yikes! Personally I do not see the appeal. If Progressive was the only car insurance on the market, I still wouldn't buy it... I would pay a lifetime of fines and court costs for not having insurance as opposed to actually rewarding these marketing geniuses for their ineptness. Oxi-Clean ...Or any commercial with Billy Mays in it. While he was alive, this guy scared me. Now that he is dead, he haunts me. The man with the spray on beard is insatiable... He could sell sand to an Arab, I swear... But it's his in your face buy this or the terrorists win! selling style that deters me the most. I wouldnt trust this guy with my daughter, (Who ironically enough is totally enamoured by him) and I certainly am not going to buy his product. Heinekin Lite

Where did they find these two rodeo clowns? Is it thier first time out in public... And when is it EVER cool when some drunk asshole spills beer on your seat at a sporting event? I cringe each time I watch this commercial. It's just wrong.

...On so many different levels.

School Daze

Essie works at the Middle School with a kid who has a behavior disorder. He is in the 8th grade, and they rotate through a daily class schedule. Essie says it is like being in 8th grade all over again, which would scare the hell out of me. Kudos to her for her tenacity... Honestly, I couldn't do it. So I was driving her to school this morning, and she mentioned to me that it was Picture Day! I laughed. "You are going to be in the yearbook, sweetheart! Aren't you excited? " "No..." She said. "Well... Yeah. 'Cause I'll get all the kids to sign my yearbook!.. So yeah, I am excited!" This instantly brought back memories of my own self clutching my yearbook tightly as I squandered down the Junior High hallways seeking out pretty girls to sign my book. I looked at Essie, and made a silly juvenile face. "Love Ya!" I shouted. "Stay crazy!" Essie laughed. She knew exactly what I was talking about. Virtually every girl who signed my yearbook wrote 'Stay crazy! Love ya!'. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that if you went to Junior High and had classmates sign your yearbook, something very similar was written in yours. (I cant vouch for Middle School. Things may be different these days.) I have strong memories of several pretty girls who wrote this in my yearbook, each of whom I had maybe said two words to all year long. That seemed odd to me then, to have them tell me that they loved me, and it seems odd to me now. I am anxious to see what is written in Essie's yearbook. Have kids evolved, as it seems they have? They do seem much more grown up to me now, at least from what I remember myself being when I was in the 8th grade... The girls dress way sexier than I remember them dressing when I was at that age, and the boys seem taller and stronger. I wonder if their brains have evolved as well... I hope that there is a kid in there somewhere.

Dude! Where's my Car?

Have you ever wandered out from the grocery store into a crowded parking lot only to realize that you have absolutely no idea where you parked your car? This happens to me virtually every time I go shopping... But at least I've never had to deal with this situation:

I guess when civilization gets in the way of progress, progress will keep progressing.

You can read about what happened here.

Wednesday on the Rocks

I poured a drink this afternoon. Why not? After all, I am on vacation. It hasn't been much of a vacation to this point, though it is technically my 5th day into it... I've been lazy for the most part. Last night I did set up the portable home-made disc golf basket out in the yard. I tossed a few in from various points, even sinking a 60 footer with Essie as a witness. It felt good to throw again. It's been a long time, and too long actually. My plan is to set up nine pads making a nine hole putting course, with one or two pads far enough away to be considered driving range. Then I will put at will this fall and into the winter, and get really good just in time for it to be too freaking snowy/icy/cold to play. But it will be good to have something to do this fall, and work out some of the muscles that have been lying dormant for so long. So back to that drink... Once upon a time pouring a drink on a lazy afternoon would not have semed like anything for me to talk about. It was a normal thing to be drinking, or at least it seemed normal to me. I wouldn't think twice about whipping through a bottle of cheap whiskey or vodka, or a 12 pack of beer before 5:00 on a day off. But that was well over a year ago... Something happened with my system that made drinking less and less appealing. So when the thought to pour a drink this afternoon came to me, I balked. Almost immediately however, I thought What the hell, I'm on vacation. I poured four fingers of Ketel One over ice, and topped it off with the only mixable thing in my fridge, a splash of Sprite. The first sip was delicious, and it only seemed to get better each time I took a drink. I am now on my second glass, and let me just say that the Sprite has became less significant.

The sun is bright outside my window, The Cubs are on TV, and I am on vacation. And if I feel like it later, I might even go outside and work on those nine holes... But only if I feel like it. Hey... I'm on vacation!

Is this a beautiful country or what?