Still Behind

I'm still behind on emails. Sorry about that. I'll get to it.

Look! Something shiny!



That should buy me some time.

After This Week . . .

Which has been unreasonably busy, I'll be doing this. Exactly. In my front yard.

Dream a Little Dream With Me

I'm working an unreasonable amount at crazy hours and I'm tired. Plus I have to relearn Dreamweaver to get the VBA website edited and uploaded. Plus, in order to do that, I have to figure out how to get FTP set up on the website. I have to ask John, but I'll forget.

If I owe you an email, I'll answer it, I swear.

Anyway, here's my dream. Next April I want to buy this. I really, really, really want to buy this. Or, you can buy it for me now.

G'head. Buy it for me. I'll wait.

So You Are a Star. Okay.

Gert comes running off the bus through the chilly rain yesterday with a big grin on her face. When we got home, we had the following conversation.

"Dad," she says, "I have a problem."

"What's that?"

"Well, I'm Student of the Week and my wiener balloon popped."

"Wait. What? You're Student of the Week?"

"Yeah. And my wiener balloon POPPED," she said holding up a limp, dead balloon animal.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But you're Student of the Week! That's fantastic!"

"Yeah, only my WEINER BALLOON POPPED. I got the balloon and this toy and a coupon for a movie."

"That's great," I said. "I'm so proud of you that you're Student of the Week! You must feel very happy."

"Happy? That my wiener balloon popped?"

"No, that you're Student of the Week."

"But my wiener balloon POPPED!"

"I know," I said, "but--"

"I don't know if it had a hole, or a leak, or what. But right before I got on the bus, my wiener balloon popped."

"Yeah, I'm sorry to hear that. But you're Student of the Week! That's fantastic, I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah, only my wiener balloon popped."

"I know, but--"

"My wiener balloon popped. That's the problem."

"And you're Student of the Week!"

"I really don't want to talk about this anymore," she said, as she gathered up her dead balloon and left the room.

"But you're Student of the Week!"

"And my WEINER BALLOON POPPED!"

She's still Student of the Week. I think I'm allowed to be proud.

OMG! OMG! OMG!

Tonight is Hannah Montana! We are like, so totally freaked out with excitement!

Actually, considering that the tickets right now are worth more than a backyard filled with crude oil, the girls are rather blasé about it. There are parents out there who are shaving their heads and publicly humiliating themselves for this concert and our kids are so like, whatever.

That's okay, I'm psyched. Honestly, as far as teen-pop queens that were manufactured for television shows go, Hannah isn't bad. Even somewhat enjoyable. Gert and Matilda know every word. Sometimes I find Gert sitting on the floor of her room, between her bed and dresser, quietly singing along with a look on her face that says, "Yeah, man. If we were a movie. Totally." Gert wants to be Miley Cyrus' best friend.

I have no idea where she gets that. (David Byrne, call me. We'll do an awkward lunch.)

I can't wait to see the faces when Hannah hits the stage. Or Miley. Whomever she appears as first. That will be priceless.

And then I shall lose my hearing as 15,000 pre-teen girls shriek.

Being Dad

Gert was sitting on the couch with the laptop open on her lap, pounding away at the keyboard. She told Mom she was "being Daddy."

She started to bang harder and said, "Honey come here!" Chris came over and sat down. Gert typed furiously then gestured with both hands toward the screen in exasperation. "It just disappeared! It's gone! It's all gone! I lost everything!"

All in all, it's a good imitation. But I'll be damned if she didn't leave out some key words. Son of a bitch.

Brain Melting

My brain is melting. Reviewing pages hurts. Make it stop. On the list of things I'd rather be doing than working right now is shaving my head and painting it to look like a watermelon.

Or this:



I like that song too much. I really shouldn't, but I do. Cool video too.

For My Wife

Who wants a ferret.

Words Cannot Describe

First, I'm not sure if this actually counts as a talent. Second, I hope she realizes that there is such a thing as "key" in music.



Here, this is better. It's David Byrne's bike cam. Yes, technology has allowed us to take a bike ride through New York from the founder of Talking Heads' point of view. That, my friends, is awesome.

Isn't it Nice to BeHome Again?

Terrible video, but it's only 54 seconds and the song is the point.



Gert saw me as I was getting off the bus and leaped into my arms and wouldn't let go until we got home.

So, yes, it is very nice to be home again.

Such Great Heights

I'm flying out tomorrow for the great INTERCOT extravaganza. What this means is that I'll be tasting beer wherever it may be sold in Disney World. Oh, and there's some sort of party.

So, in that mood (you know, flying, traveling):

The Postal Service:


And Ben Folds' take, by way of John Cage beating up Steve Reich:

Your Coffee Sucks and I Regret Marrying You!

Ah, marriage. It's all about the coffee and making your spouse feel worthless. And, seriously, coffee and steak? Come on.

I'd like to see this style of advertising reversed and used for Viagra.

"It's your penis, Jim. It's limp. I'll get some at the plant."

My Life This Week

Shine on Harvey Bloom

One of my favorite Neil Young songs. I remember the first time I heard it, shortly before the album was released and he was on a solo acoustic tour. He wandered the stage, pacing between the various instruments, telling stories looking like a jobless farmer in his ratty flannel shirt.

Harvest Moon was the only song he had help with, in the form of someone playing the broom.

Gert Fundraising

I think we're all suffering from fund raising fatigue. But, Gert is doing her very first fund raiser for school this year. If, by chance, you have not been pounded with offers for candy, trinkets, wrapping paper, coupon books, magazines, etc. let me know and I'll have Gert come over and give you her full pitch.

But, to be honest, even we're sick of all this crap. However, we're just working for the prizes.

Elvis Costello's First TV Apperance

Rosalita . . .