I Always Believe There's a Band, Kid

Yarrrrrrrrr

2010-09-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

Faithful Reader(s) of this Blog realize:
1. The Colonel now only Posts while on Vacation once every 2 1/2 years.
2. He usually doesn't want to bore you with personal "Fishing Stories" (OK, maybe I do.)
3. Despite the English Professor's best Efforts to Rehabilitate him, he still Capitalizes in All the Wrong Places. (Which would be a good song title in the growing Nerd-Country crossover market)

All of that to say this:
When the Blond caught our 457th perch of the day, and the Hermit said, "Aye, Captain, thar be Perch, here," there was no possible way that he could have known we were out on the lake on "International Talk Like a Pirate Day".

If he had, the afternoon would have seemed much longer.

This One's Too Hot...This One's Too Cold...

2010-03-03T05:21:00.000-08:00

…and This One… It all began with the Blond stating that “We need to change the toilet seat. The stupid dog has scratched this one all up, while drinking out of the toilet.”

“But dear,” the Colonel whined, “I like our present toilet seat. I spend many an hour on it, checking Facebook updates and planning the suspicious demise of said canine.”

“Look,” She responded, “We have guests arriving Wednesday, and I will not have them resting upon a scratchy surface.”

Thus began SeatQuest, 2010.

The Colonel foolishly thought he could just stop at the local Target store and purchase the all-important furnishing.

Preferring the Wooden Variety, he grabbed a nice $11 model (pictured in the center) and headed for home, eager to install it and return to regular, bathroom activity.

It turns out that all Wooden Toilet Seats are not created equal.

That seat is about 1/8 of an inch thick. Li’l Penny thought she was going to break it in half, just lifting the lid.

OK, set that one aside. Tomorrow, I get to try to sneak it by the friendly Target Return Department Personnel, who are hired by Satan.

Next stop, Lowes.

This time, the Colonel was smart enough to check the thickness of the display model before purchase. It looked very similar to our original seat. Yes!!!!

Upon un-boxing this one, however, we discovered that it was just as paper-thin as the Target Model.

“Fine!” The Blond persisted, “I don’t care. Get a White one if you have to. Just make sure it’s Quality.”

So the Colonel went to L&M, and bought the one on the left. Heavier…thicker…This should do the trick.

“Uh, I don’t know…” The Blond Wavered, “I really like the wooden look. Why don’t you put that new, white one on the Upstairs Toilet?”

“Euphemistically expressed expletive.” The Colonel responded, simultaneously expanding both his vocabulary and the originally expressed scope of work.

Having finished the upstairs project, he gathered his nerve and asked the dreaded question.

“So what should we do about the main bathroom?”

The Blond thought for a moment.

“Just put the old seat back on it.”
Which is what I wanted all along.

Welcome back, Old Friend.

Irony...

2010-02-02T18:51:00.000-08:00

Well, We Finally Did It

2009-11-04T15:42:00.001-08:00

We decided to cook the dog's brain. It was surprisingly delicious, considering that the dog is an idiot.

Actually, the Blond looked at the pizza hot dish in the pan and said, "Wow, that looks like a brain." So, of course, we had to take a picture.

I would have left the top half of this post stand alone without the explanation, but at least half of our readers would have believed we'd actually do that.

Which is kind of scary...

Cheeseheads

2009-10-18T13:49:00.001-07:00

When the morons visit Wisconsin, we naturally seek out our own kind.

Such was the case when the Colonel and the Blond attended the Wedding-Event-o-the-Decade last weekend.
Flo, JC, and L'il Penny at the wedding. Keep an eye on the one in the middle. She has dangerous ideas .

Sitting around the pool the day following the nuptials, the Colonel was thoroughly enjoying the relaxing reunion-type vibe as good friends renewed all-too-long separated acquaintances. The wedding had been fantastic, and the fellowship had been pleasantly exhausting. Now we were tired, and nothing was going to remove the Colonel from his comfortable deck chair.He should have known better.

"Hey!" said Honorary Moron JC, "Who wants to visit the AMISH CHEESE HOUSE?"

The Colonel regarded that lady over the top of his unnecessary, indoor sunglasses, "You're kidding, right?"

The Blond (Charter Member: Morons inc.) chimed in, "Oooooo. That sounds good! Where is it?"

JC was exuberant. "Right across the parking lot!"

Having been dragged from poolside, forced to change clothes, and walking out into 40 degree weather, the Colonel was not amused.

"Uh...that's a SHELL Station."

"Exactly!" bubbled JC, "The Cheese House in in the back!"Not a good sign.

I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe a cool guy with a beard dressed in basic black cutting samples on an old wooden barrel.

What we got instead was a tiny cooler in the back corner, filled with clever cow-shape-based dairy products.JC and the Blond seemed pleased.

I wanted one shaped like Brett Favre, but they were sold out.

Random Conversations with the Blond: Wal-Mart Edition

2009-10-17T08:10:00.001-07:00

The Blond: (at the Wal-Mart checkout, noticing the cashier guy wearing sanitary, plastic gloves) Oh, so are those H1-N1 gloves?

Cashier Guy: Naw...I'm not afraid of no flu. (a pause) I'm afraid of the MONEY...with all the ANTHRAX on it...(longer pause) ...and all the FECES!"

Blond: (Gingerly taking back her shopping bag between her thumb and index finger) O-kaaaaaay...kinda sorry I asked, here."

Life was Simpler

2009-10-06T10:51:00.000-07:00

The Colonel & the Blond are involved in planning a celebration of sorts near the end of the year.
To condense a long involved explanation, one of the necessary items to pull this off is a HUGE supply of candy cigarettes.

Discussion Questions for both of the Colonel's readers over 45:

1. Weren't those Cool?

2. Why can't we buy these at the corner store anymore?

Here was our actual conversation...

Colonel: "Man, I used to love those!"

Blond: "Yeah! I can remember walking to school on a cold day and..."
(At this point she pantomimed smoking a Candy "Heater".)

Blond: "I aways was disappointed because the boxes didn't look like my Dad's brand."

Colonel: "Did you ever play "Cigarette Tag?" You know, where if you were about to be tagged, you could kneel down and shout out a cigarette brand to be safe?"

Blond: "I seem to remember that."

Colonel: "Yeah, that was fun. Think about it..."Cigarette" Tag... Not "Sports Teams", not "American Idol Winners", not even "Ideas to Save Mother Earth" It was Cigarettes!"

Blond: (Looking at the candy box) "Wow, look at how happy those two kids are with their cigarettes."
Colonel: "We've lost something along the way, haven't we?"

Wow

2009-09-27T13:26:00.000-07:00

The Colonel has watched a lot (probably too much) football in his lifetime.

He's always been a Brett Favre fan, and has even given grudging respect when #4 has led the Packers down the field to beat us in the final two minutes too many times to count.

But I have never seen a final touchdown pass like that one.

Wow.

The EETs of San Francisco

2009-09-25T06:41:00.000-07:00

First Night: Clam Chowder at Alioto's. Quote the Blond, "It ain't from a can!"
We found this guy on Pier 39.
The Colonel was pretty excited about the French combo meal.
"I'll have the Crepe, FRIGHTS, and a Soda, please!" He gleefully announced. Later, the Blond quietly hissed, "It's pronounced FREET, moron."
After eating too many "freet", the Blond insisted we get some fresh fruit.
She chose well.

The Colonel, on the other hand, preferred a place called "Chocolate Heaven."

It was.The Blond did get into the Chocolate Groove at Ghiradelli. After picking out a pretty nifty chocolate-filled cable car, she sent the me up to the counter to pay for it.

The Colonel noticed a 10% off coupon sitting by the cash register. A normal human would recognise that a previous customer had just used it, but being a Moron, I scooped it up.

"Hey!" can I use this?" I gushed.

The clerk regarded me much the way a potato would.

"Is it yours?"

"Well...yeah. I just FOUND IT!"She grumbled something unintelligible and rang up the discount.With all this food, it is fortunate that the California Euphorians have placed these ECO-FRIENDLY, self-cleaning (really) facilities almost EVERYWHERE. Of course, they have a plethora of Silly, Big-Government Rules and Policies, like "Only One Adult Allowed in at a Time."

Now, the self-cleaning idea might seem pretty cool, but in fact it's kind of gross.

Then again, what kind of idiot would actually video the inside of one of these things? This is true: The video ends abruptly, because as I activated the automatic door, there was a very large man waiting outside with a "What the heck are you doing?" scowl on his face.

Unfortunately, when I REALLY needed one of these facilities, there wasn't one to be seen.

Most businesses on Fisherman's Wharf have signs that say their version of "Rest Rooms are for Customers, Only!"

One very inhospitable place in particular actually made you get a token from the front counter. This establishment happened to be the only one within striking distance when my moment of need arrived.

So I had to buy a Cheeseburger.

We made up for that Faux Pas by having breakfast at a more reputable site.Wednesday Night: Cioppino's. (Think Valentini's on Steroids, but not in a good way...)Out on the Bus Tour, we encountered "The French Laundry." Apparently, this is the "Best Restaurant in the World." Seriously. Reservations are only available MONTHS in advance, and even then they are hard to get. There is a person on ebay who gets reservations and then sells them for $200.00. No food, just the reservation. The food runs about $500-$700 per meal.The tour guide must have not realized that we wanted to eat there, because he just drove right on by, and we had to settle for snapping this picture. We had a nice picnic instead.

Final night...out of money...corn dogs.

I Left My Shoes in San Francisco

2009-09-24T06:23:00.000-07:00

The Colonel awoke to a day full of promise.

"Oh, boy!" he thought, "Today we can tour a WWII submarine, climb some hills, see some cool stuff...this is going to be GREAT!"

"Not so fast," intoned the Blond, "If we are going to see "Wicked," there's something we absolutley must do first."

No...please. Not that. Anything but THAT!"

A few minutes later we were Cabling down to Market Street.

She calls it Shopping.

I call it Torture.

Look how happy she is.

Now, to her credit, the Blond was able to find the ONLY shop in Union Square where the dresses don't start at $2000.00

The ability to find reasonably priced apparel does not translate, however, into the ability to choose resasonably priced apparel.

I mean, it was all reasonably priced in the store she found, but then the woman needed to make a DECISION.

As the hours flew by, I checked my e-mail, chatted with a security guard, found a rest room, read War & Peace, ignored a homeless guy, and watched the day slip away.

Finally she found it. The perfect dress. Good price, nice lines. Even the Colonel--who knows less about fashion than the previouly mentioned homless guy--knew she had located a winner.

Now, finally we could go?

"Uh...duh...Shoes."

I could have wept.

Much later, after strapping on a hundred different shoes in an attempt to find, not only the perfect pair, but (this gets a little technical) the perfect pair in her size, we had made thirty minute MUNI commute back to our hotel room, and were preparing to salvage what was left of the day.

Knowing that our foray into the valley of the retailers had at last reached its conclusion, I was feeling a bit giddy.

"All right," I said benevolently, "We might as well see how all this looks together."

The Blond got as far as putting on the shoes.

"Hmmm, why don't they feel right?"

She looked inside one of them. Then she looked inside the other. Then she did it again.

"Uh-oh," She said.

"Uh-oh? What do you mean, Uh-oh?"

"These shoes are two different sizes."

When we got back downtown to exchange them, the Homeless Guy just looked at me and said, "You again?"

All this, just to go see a play in a mostly darkened theater.

On the other hand, she does look pretty Wicked.

Confusion by the Bay

2009-09-23T10:56:00.000-07:00

The Colonel is not one of the brightest points of light on planet earth—in fact, he’s like, second from the bottom—but if there is one skill he does have it is Urban Navigating.

The Blond is continually amazed at my ability to pretty much close my eyes and drive right up to our destination in any city—any state. I also have pretty good luck figuring out a city's buses, subways, etc.

So, to prepare for our most recent trip, the Colonel went into MAJOR NERD MODE, doing the google and learning all about the San Francisco Mass Transit System, including the infamous BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit)

That being said, The Colonel and the Blond would like to go on the record stating that we have never experienced a city trying so hard to AVOID TELLING YOU WHERE YOU ARE.

It all began when we boarded the BART (Body Aromas Reeking Terribly) for the simple trip downtown from the Airport. Perhaps we are naive Midwesterners, but when we ride the Hiawatha Line in Minneapolis, there are bright LED signs indicating the next stops, along with a Cheery Voice clearly announcing the station name and connecting routes. “Bus…number Fifty-One…number Fifty-One.”
On the BART, we planted our tired posteriors on some old urine, sweat, and vomit stains and looked around for a station display. Seeing nothing, we confidently (I’m good at this, remember?) awaited the on-board announcement that were approaching the 1st Stop. As the train slowed to a stop in the next station, we heard the intercom crackle to life with the following nugget of information, which I now quote, word for word.

“ .”

Not to worry, all transit stations have their names posted prominently on bright,colorful signage, easily visible from the train cars.

"Ha-ha," the city quietly chuckled to itself.

While signage is not COMPLETELY missing, the following facts are true of BART.

1. The train windows are VERY darkly tinted.

2. The station platforms are VERY dimly lit.

3. Any station signs that do exist are about the size of a dollar bill, and race by your window before you can squint. And your car never, NEVER stops in front of one.

After several stations whizzed by, reveling in their anonymity, the Blond began to get nervous.

"Where do we get off again?"

"Market and Powell"

"And how do we know where that is?"

"I'm working on it..."

Fortunately, her young eyes are superior to mind, and she spotted a tiny, worn "Powell" sign just early enough for us to grab our bags and exit without being crushed by rapidly closing BART-doors.

Now, on the Streets of San Franciscotm, the Blond had one comment.

"Uh...where ARE we?"

"I think we're on Market, but where is the F-Line Stop?"

Our 7 day, Unlimited MUNI passport was in my pocket, itching for a workout. I seriously wanted to grab the connecting street car I had so painstakingly researched.

"Should we just get a cab?"

"Just let me do my job, OKAY?"

I craned my neck around, looking for ANYTHING that would indicate a station heading toward Fisherman's Wharf. We found a small platform about a half-block away, but it was clearly heading in the wrong direction.

We would still be standing there, if a younger, obviously less URBAN-SAVVY man hadn't come up and shown his utter lack of a Y-Chromosome by asking a local for directions.

"How do I get out to Fisherman's Wharf?" he asked. I was so embarrassed for him.

"Over there..." The lady pointed.

Okay, so there was a platform (more like a narrow curb), but it had NO SIGNAGE, and it just sat there, daring us to find it.

Once on the F-Market/Wharves street car, we were on our way. I have to admit, that the Driver of this mini train, actually did keep us posted on where we were. If he hadn't I am sure we would have just stayed on the tracks and ended up back where we started.

We disembarked near our hotel, thinking the toughest part of the process was behind us.

And then we walked past the entrance to the Holiday Inn three times before we found it.

Please note the complete lack of any sign indicating that this is anything other than a parking garage. I can assure you that this IS the entrance to our hotel. They just don't want you to find it.

Upon entering, we found this sign. We found the phone and called for assistance, being assured the desk person would be there in two minutes.

Twenty minutes later, after (this is true) acting as an interpreter/apologist for a group of Japanese tourists, we finally met with a desk person, who checked us in and assigned us to room 1345. Thirteenth floor...cool.

Hopping into the elevator, we of course realized that the hotel did not have thirteen floors. Lost again.

The Blond smartly suggested we try the third floor.

I stupidly thought I could just hit the button marked "3" on the control panel.

Find it...I dare you.

This kind of thing would continue throughout the week. We sincerely believe this city is trying to lose us.

There was the cable car operator who missed a switch:

Cheerful Cable Car Guy: "Folks, I just drove over the switch. Rather than the Powell/Mason line, this is now the Powell/Hyde line. "

Us: "But we don't want to go to Hyde!"

Even More Cheerful Cable Car Guy: "Sorry.."

He then prompted us to disembark on an unguided, unplanned walking tour of Chinatown.

There was also the Sullen Ticket Clerk at Coit Tower telling us to just "Follow the Yellow Line", which promptly disappeared after a few feet, along with the clerk.
And the very helpful Hotel Concierge, pictured here at his/her desk.
All in all, we're having a good time, but considering how the Colonel has spent most of this vacation sitting forlornly on park benches, studying Google Maps, trying to figure out where the heck we were, we are also looking forward to coming home on Friday.

If they haven't moved the Airport.

Farewell to a Really Stupid Ballpark

2009-09-22T08:20:00.000-07:00

First Inflated on October 2, 1981.
The roof promptly collapsed 48 days later in a Minnesota snowstorm.

Balls were lost against the Teflon roof, homers flew out in record numbers (before AC), foul balls hit speakers, and one high fly ball even stuck in the ceiling, never to be seen again.

Visiting managers from Billy Martin to Ozzie Guillen reviled the place, calling it the “Rollerdome” and threatening to have it blown up.

It was so bad, that back in 1984, the metropolitan sports commission coined a new motto, their own version of whistling past the graveyard—“We Like It Here!”

Yet it was also the loud, boisterous home of the only two world championships in the history of Minnesota professional sports.

It is also the place where we lived and died with our favorite team throughout our adult lives. (The Blond actually saw a Twins game at the old Met—an advantage over the Colonel for which I will forever be envious.)

And now it is closing to baseball. April, 2010 and the opening of Target Field will herald the return of outdoor baseball to Minnesota.

So this past weekend, the Colonel, the Blond, and the entire family (now numbering ten) headed downtown for one final farewell.Walking in to the pressurized, Teflon bubble, passing through the sterile, concrete concourse, we were reminded again what a lousy place this was to hold a ball game.
Designed for football, the stadium features seats that face the wrong direction, poor lines of sight, and banks of lights that drive even veteran outfielders to distraction.
But the Twins are in a pennant race once again, 3 games behind the Detroit Tigers, the team they are playing today. A win today would guarantee a series win, and moving at least one game closer in the standings.
While we enjoyed our family time in the stands, it didn’t look good for the Twins. Our starting pitcher, Carl Pavano, didn’t seem to have his best stuff. While he only fell behind by a run—the game was kept close by a solo blast by the incomparable Joe Mauer--our boys were not helping much by running out of two potential rallies, getting caught stealing twice to empty the bases.
The later it got in the game, the more it seemed that the hard-hitting Tigers would break out at any time. What we needed was a little good, old-fashioned “Dome Magic”.

It happened in the 8th. With one out already, Orlando Cabrera hit an easy, potentially rally-killing fly ball in the direction of Tiger’s left-fielder Don Kelly. Uh-oh. Another opportunity lost.

Suddenly, Kelly began to scramble about, looking confused. How many times had we seen this dance before, especially during afternoon games with the sun illuminating the already oppressive, white ceiling? Shouts of “Dome Ball!” burst spontaneously from experienced fans.

Sure enough, Kelly lost sight of the ball, recovered too late, and it bounced off his glove for a “Metrodome Double.”

That kind of event tends to take the wind out of a visiting pitcher’s sails. Three batters later, Michael Cuddyer would pound a three-run homer over the center field fence, bringing the tally to 6-2, a score that would hold for the last Twins victory we would see live at the Dome.

We are looking forward to Target Field. Indoor baseball is an evil abomination, and for almost two decades, the Metrodome has been the High Temple of that dark order.

But for today, we remember Kirby Puckett, Kent Hrbek, Gary Gaetti, Tom Brunansky, Frank Viola and Bert Blyleven. We remember the Homer Hankies in ’87. We remember the greatest World Series ever played—with Jack Morris’ 10 inning masterpiece to win it all in 1991.

And we remember dome-balls. More than a few times, we have seen the home-town stadium help snatch victory from the grasp of befuddled opponents, as our beloved small-town market Twins have stayed competetive year in and year out against teams whose payrolls are far higher, and ballparks much nicer.

So it seemed appropriate, that in our last trip to the dome, that stupid, white ceiling would have such an impact on the game.

Without it, the Twins might not have rallied. Without it, Cuddyer might not have come up to bat to hit the home run that dropped ten feet from where we were sitting.
And without it, our family might not have appeared in the stands on Sports Center, with Doogie doing one, final triumphant fist pump

Morons on Vacation

2009-09-20T06:03:00.000-07:00

Random Conversation with the Blond.

Colonel: Don't you appreciate how hotels put the coffee maker right in the bathroom?

Blond: Yeah, with the Aeration Effect, the toilet water is everywhere.

Colonel: If you were in a hurry, you could save a lot time and get identical results just by dipping the decanter!

Blond: Stop bugging me.

Up Next: Farwell to a REALLY STUPID Ballpark.

McCarthy...DESERTED!

2009-08-18T07:31:00.001-07:00

"Hey, where IS everybody? What's going on?"

"Gee, I dunno, Dad. Do you think it might have something to do with the TORNADOES bearing down on us?"

Thus began our 20 minute trip out to our favorite beach.

Allow me to backtrack...

The Colonel and the Blond, feeling somewhat giddy/melancholy over the prospect of everyone leaving again, decided to abduct the two youngest spawn and ferret them away to the local state park for a final swim-n-grill session. Urgent, almost pleading cries from the local weather channel were ignored and we set out for our destination.

Entering McCarthy Beach State Park (Googlers: Ha Ha! That's why you ended up here!) we encountered a phenomenon we have never before seen - a completely empty parking lot.

Seriously. One red Vibe (ours) - No one else. (Hint #1.)

Ignoring the pitch-black clouds (Hint#2), we stubbornly began emptying the hatchback of chairs, blankets, grilling tools, coolers, and a large rubber floatie.

"Uh-oh," Said the Colonel, "I forgot the anchor for the raft."

He gazed out oat the four-foot whitecaps rolling in. (Hint #3)

"Maybe we can just pull it out and let the waves push us back in."

The Blond, who possesses significantly less Moron Tendencies than the Colonel, glanced out at the tsunami.

"We're not going to do that."

The raft stayed in the car.

Next Dilemma: How to keep a tiny Coleman Grill lit in 80mph gusts of wind.

Solutions:

1. Raw Polish

2. (Moron kicking in...) Cover the Burning Grill with a Beach Blanket.

Blond: "Should we just go to a restaurant?"

Colonel: "Anchor the corner of that blanket down with that propane bottle, would ya?"

This is true: At one point, the LIT grill actually blew off the picnic table. The Colonel alertly caught it and returned it to cooking position, Fraboni Polish intact.

All in all, it was kind of fun, in a stupid sort of way.

The Blond found a Big Piece-o-Driftwood tm.

We had Ice Cream...

...and our Beach Blanket smells like Polish Sausage.

Moron's, Nerds, and REALLY good Baby Makers

2009-05-31T05:45:00.000-07:00

Every store we stopped at brought the same questions:

"Are you guys going to a game?"

"Did you guys come from a game?"

"Hey! What's the deal? Aren't the Twins in Tampa this weekend?" (more astute fans, but making us really look like idiots.)

"No," we would giddily reply, "Our son and daughter-in-law are having Twins, today!"

Responses ranged from "I don't get it." (Burger King) to "Oh! I just got goose bumps!" (Dollar Store) to "I'll be watching for Bert to Circle you!" (Caribou Coffee)

Welcome, Aidan (on right) and Isabella (on left)....

Jenni at her Final High School Concert

2009-05-17T04:05:00.001-07:00

Grad Party:
Sunday, June 7th
Noon-4pm
The Reini's

(This isn't the Grad Video: just a teaser...)

Conversations with the Blond

2009-03-18T15:50:00.000-07:00

The Colonel purchased a new shaver, but that is not the point.

One morning, the blond looked into the bathroom to find him staring intently at its carrying case.

"You are thinking that it bears a striking resemblance to the Photon Torpedo Shell used as a coffin for Spock in the classic Star Trek film, "The Wrath of Khan", aren't you?" She said.

The Colonel replied, "I'm married to a nerd."

"Osmosis," She replied.

Incidentally, she was correct.

A Pictorial Quiz

2009-01-21T05:55:00.001-08:00

Here's the Scenario:

The year is 2013. Constant meddling in natural recession/growth economic cycles has resulted in enough bail-outs, hand-outs, and misguided* government-created (ie: tax revenue draining) jobs that Americans with actual private sector (ie: tax revenue generating) jobs only comprise 5% of the economy.

You are part of that hard-working 5%.

However, in order to pay for the rest of these programs, you are now taxed at a rate of 100% of your income.

Fortunately, you also live next door to the Berenstain Bears.

Question:
Which of the Bears do you shoot and eat?
Why?
Discuss.

There IS a correct answer. Think creatively. The Colonel awaits your responses. The first clever reader with the correct answer will receive Mad Props in the Comment Section.

The Blond is not allowed to play.

*"Misguided" refers to Government meta-jobs created for the sole purpose of trying to reverse a natural economic cycle. These have been proven to lengthen recessions, not shorten them. The Colonel is, of course, NOT referring to educators, police, snow plow drivers, or our military, God Bless 'em!

Dupont Dynamite Factory: Carey Lake

2009-01-19T07:01:00.001-08:00

Snowmobile License: $48.50

MN Trail Pass: $31.00

New Drive Belt: $60.58

Replacement Clutch: $371.00

Fuel: $2-$3 per Gallon

Knowing your cross country skis are already paid for: Priceless

Sorry, that was sort of "Sierra Club" of me. I really just wanted to post these pictures of the Old Dynamite Factory 'cause I think they're cool.

Things I Do Because I'm a Moron IX

2009-01-16T17:21:00.000-08:00

The temperature last night was 35 degrees below zero.

The Colonel, who is a moron, decided to visit the Northern-Most McDonald's in the lower 48 United States.

Here, an alert manager demonstrates the frigid temps by tossing a cup of water out the Drive-thru window. What you are seeing is the water crystallizing in mid air. It was pretty cool.

While in Baudette, the Colonel stays at the beloved "Walleye Inn". Long-time readers of this feature will remember it as a facility that politely asks its guests not to clean their fish or run their ice augers in their actual rooms.

I seriously love this place.

It was on the drive up in this sub-zero weather that the Colonel logged yet another adventure in the Moron chronicles.

After previously swinging by another fine restaurant location for a Large Non-Fat Latte, I was mentally, emotionally, and most importantly, physically looking forward to a quick stop at my favorite rest station, about half-way between I-Falls and Baudette.

It's just a little shack by the side of the road, but it's always plowed out, relatively clean, and very conveniently located.

Imagine my disappointment as I rounded the corner and saw only an empty field covered with snow.

"Oh, no! They tore it down! what am I going to do?"

You have to understand, I really REALLY wanted to stop, like, right at that moment.

So, I pulled the Vibe over, and (I am not making this up) trudged through three feet of snow to a small stand of trees.

Feeling much colder, but strangely better, I then struggled uphill, back through the waist-high powder.

The Colonel was seriously exhausted by the time he reached his vehicle. Holding frozen hands over the heater, I continued to mourn the loss of a very important comfort station.

"How could they tear it down? Don't they realize how long this stretch is? How desolate? Are these the kind of random acts of government we can expect in BOA?"

I started the car and pulled back onto the highway, still fuming over MNDOT's lack of consideration for my biological comfort.

Rounding a corner fifty yards further, I saw the rest stop, complete with a plowed out parking lot, right where it had always been.

Sub Zero Talent!

2009-01-06T08:15:00.000-08:00

The Colonel's phone tends to ring whenever the Multi-National Media Conglomerate Powerhouse that is Double Deuce/Rainy Day Pictures has a project that meets the following conditions:

1. They require a character whose entire description consists of the words, "Old Guy".

2. The temperature for an outside shoot has fallen to less than 2 degrees Fahrenheit.

Such was the case last night, so the Colonel and the Blond loaded up some warm clothing (Fool: you won't remember to wear them!) and Vibed over to Bemidji State University. (A favorite location in the sense that it allows the production company to avoid being arrested.)

On the way over, the Colonel practiced his line. (Yes..."line"... singular... The directors have a keen sense of evaluating and properly assigning acting talent.)

"No!" he practiced at the Blond, "How was that?"

"Try again," she said.

"NO!!!!" the Colonel rhapsodised, "No. No? Noooooooooooooo! no? n-n-n-n-no?"

"Don't give up your day job."

After dropping of the Blond to play with the Grandgirl, (lucky...) the Colonel proceeded to a desolate parking lot.

The production company was already assembled. In fairness, I should point out that they had already been outside in frozen conditions the entire day.

The Camera was just one item in danger of freezing. Ears, toes, and other body parts completed the list.

Using a convenient heated hallway to rehearse (stand here...don't move...don't say anything...good job) we ventured back outside to shoot the scene.

Three "protagonists" huddle up to figure out a way to outwit the Colonel's crafty character.

The Colonel BRILLIANTLY decided that his character should stand out in the scene by not wearing a hat. The Writer/Director concurred because he is a Sadist.

Warming back up between takes. The Director of Photography (on the right) is actually frozen in that position. They simply wedged the camera between his hands when we went back outside.

All in all, it wasn't that bad. (Until the feeling returned to my toes later that night.)

Double Deuce/Rainy Day should wrap up principle photography in the next day or two, and be ready to submit their work to fine cable networks everywhere.

Hopefully, The Colonel didn't mess up the scene too badly.

On the plus side, I got to punch the Writer/Director in the eye...twice.

On the other hand, I also get kicked in a very private area.

It really belongs on PBS, but they need the exposure.

This Actually Happened This Week

2008-12-28T06:58:00.000-08:00

Twice...

(You can click on the pic for a better view.)

We're Gonna Save This One

2008-12-27T16:25:00.001-08:00

To use again next year...

What the Heck IS That?

2008-11-26T08:59:00.000-08:00

"Can you cook the turkey, again? You did such a good job last time."

No, I didn't...

The point of being lousy at something is to make sure you never have to do it again.

I distinctly remember the Blond getting home and beginning to pull weird parts and bags of junk out of the cooked bird, patiently saying things like,

"Uh...you're really supposed to pull out the giblets before you cook it." (What's a "giblet"?)

and...

"Yeah, you should probably take out this neck before hand, too." (I swear, that wasn't in there when I started.)

Also...

"See this plastic bag here? That's the Gravy." (Don't tell me - let me guess. That was supposed to be removed as well?)

So this year, before tossing the dumb birds in the oven, I reached in and pulled out all kinds of disgusting crud.

I'm getting better at this.

I think I've been had.

OK, One More Random Video

2008-11-26T06:18:00.001-08:00

The Colonel PROMISES that this Blog will not become just another "Look what I found on the YouTube" type of site. (Although, Mr. Larry just posted a cool one, so I'm in pretty good company.)

But I must keep pushing the CPP (Colonel's Prior Post) further off the page. It has been serving as a constant reminder of the horror that awaits us here in BOA.

Guitar Hero Geeks, enjoy...

I Didn't Really Need Gas

2008-11-15T14:14:00.000-08:00

But I stopped for some anyway.

I plan to pour it on my Corn Flakes. tm

OK, Enough Politics, Already

2008-11-08T22:36:00.000-08:00

For the sake of everyone's mental health, we'll keep pushing the Colonel's Previous Post (The CPP) further and further off the page with material that is much more pressing:

Like this, for example.

Handbaskets for Sale

2008-11-04T18:53:00.001-08:00

Get 'em while you can.

A Return to Our (blogging) Roots

2008-10-28T09:23:00.000-07:00

Following a 3+ year Hiatus, three members of Taconite Country Paintball, plus our friend Brandon, dared to fire up the markers and venture out on the field again.

The Colonel found the following truths to be self evident:

1. It was too cold.

2. The Colonel stinks at Speedball. The following is a true conversation that occurred behind a bunker:

Small Wirey Player in a Bright Red Speedball Jersey: "Get Down! GET DOWN!"

C. Havoc: "Uh...I'm OLD. This is as "Down" as I get."

Half-frozen Paintball (Hitting the Colonel in the mask): SPLATTT!

Small Wirey Player: I Told you so.

3. The Colonel's friend, Brandon, is a GREAT Speedball Player. My shoulder still hurts.

4. TCP was actually pretty good while it lasted. The Colonel and Sons owe a debt of gratitude to Major Pain, General Gibby, Captain Paintburner, the Double Downs, young Lt. Frotsgner, and, of course, The Sarge, for challenging us and teaching the nuances of the woodland game. When the focus shifted into the trees, the carnage really began. By our count, Team Taconite (Col. Havoc & Sons, Brandon, and another camo-guy named Jason) had more than 25 kills without an elimination.

The first player I took out was Small Wirey Red-Jerseyed Guy.

Note: HUGE Plug for Devotion Paintball in Bemidji, Minnesota. They are a first class operation, run by great people, and their End-of-the-Season Bash was a rousing success.

Dishwasher 2: The Saga Continues

2008-10-18T19:14:00.000-07:00

The wedding reception was scheduled for 5:30 pm. The clock in the kitchen read 5:01.

"Hey!" The Colonel was excited, "I have time to work on the dishwasher."

Knowing that her earlier diagnosis (pump) had been incorrect, the Blond had no choice but to watch helplessly as I crawled around behind the mystery machine, grunting epithets reminiscent of Darrin McGavin in "A Christmas Story".

"Eureka!" I emerged from my alcove presenting a dirty, snake like tube to her.

"See? See?" I effused, "The drain tube had a leak! It was dripping back into the bottom pan, triggering the micro-switch on the float, signaling an overflow fault!"

The Blond, standing there in a brand new dress she had purchased for the express purpose of not arriving late to this wedding, was not impressed.

"No, look!" The Colonel's enthusiasm was unabated, "There are little holes in the tube!"

To demonstrate, I blew in the tube.
True to form, the water blew out of offending holes.

Right at her new dress.

"You Moron." The Blond said.

We were still on time for the reception, which the Colonel left half-way through to purchase a new drain hose.

Of Machines and Morons

2008-10-14T13:12:00.000-07:00

The Blond's instructions were clear.

"Hey, do you think you might fix the dishwasher today?"

Translation: "If I have to wash one more plate by hand, you'll be eating lasagna through a straw."

She even channeled her inner mechanic with this bit of wisdom, "I think it's either the pump or the motor."

"Uh, yeah thanks, adult female, I think I can handle the diagnostic side of things."

So, once she had left to go earn a living, I proceeded to dismantle the beast.

Having ripped the puzzling device down to its basic molecular structure, I decided to test it.

Unfortunately, ripping it apart also included taking the drain line off. (Note the loose hose and bucket full of water.)

Domestic Hydration Control completed, I dove further into the mysterious device.

When all was said and done, I came to the inescapable conclusion that the underlining problem with the dishwasher was...

The Pump AND the Motor. Ha-ha! She thought it was the pump OR the motor. Take that, Blond! They are actually the same part!

At least, they were the same part. I quickly ordered another one.

I hope she was right, 'cause there is no way this one is ever going back together.

"Captain" Havoc

2008-09-25T20:25:00.001-07:00

We finally just decided to steal the boat.

Actually, we did get to meet the owners (nice people), so the rental was all legit.

Following a thorough orientation ("Here's your boat."), we set out in search of submerged rocks and other non-insured hazards.

Now the Colonel is not known for his outdoor-type manly prowess. At least not like this guy, (or his Dad), or these guys. (Pretty much more like this guy.)

But that being said, he did manage to guide the Blond to a walleye.

Or two...

Or three,

Or four.

The Blond, of course, IS a fabulous Sportsbabe. She threw back all but the first one.

She also caught a couple hundred of these.

FINALLY, Captain Colonel established the presence of a "Y" chromosome in the boat by catching his own supper. After "uneventfully" parking the rental craft, we were able to move on to the next adventure:

A MORON's GUIDE TO CLEANING FISH

1. Find Fillet knife. (Hint: Look in the garage behind the stack of Disco Albums)

2. Stick Knife into Fish. (Use pointy end)

3. Field complaint from Blond about not killing fish first. (Note: Biological discussion of dorsal ganglia will fall on deaf ears. Just mutter "It's dead, now." and move on.)

4. Move knife randomly until chunks of flesh fall off. Check to make sure they are not your own.

5. Listen to Blond wonder why her "bigger" fish now has the "smaller" fillets. Explain to her that it is because she doesn't know how to fish.

All in all, it made for a good meal.

And now if you will excuse me, I have to go push a boat off the top of a dock.

Nature: and other Icky Stuff

2008-09-24T14:18:00.000-07:00

The Blond and I felt we must rectify the Missing Salad Dressing Situation, so we loaded up and Vibed all the way to Deer River. (Motto: We're just like Elk River, only smaller)

Since we were there anyway, we took the opportunity to stock up on other essentials, like drinkable water.

The weather being much nicer today, (And I dangle the participle incorrectly) we wanted to rent a boat. Unfortunately, (this is true) the RESORT is STILL DESERTED.

It's eerie. The lawn is mowed, the trash bins are emptied, but NO ONE seems to be actually RUNNING the place. The cabins are all open, but deserted. We plan to sleep in a different one each night until we get caught.

So, being flexible, we decided to get out and enjoy nature.

With the proverbial and literal Knapsack on our Back, we set out to discover "Simpson Creek"

We came upon this sign all by itself WAY out on the trail, and were truly saddened by the Forest Service's neglect in telling us of their "No Horses Rule" earlier.

"Well, Trigger, looks like this is the end of the line."

"But Wiiiillbuurrrrr..."

"Sorry." BANG!

The Blond wanted to press on, even without our horse. We both felt a deep desire to have our picnic lunch at the creek for which the trail was named.

After 45 minutes of hiking through what us city dwellers lovingly refer to as "Icky Stuff", we finally arrived at "Simpson Creek." Look carefully. There it is at the bottom of the picture. We would have stayed, but we had to chase the mosquitoes who had carried away our backpack.

We finally found some higher ground with only a few hundred thousand ants and dragon flies. Dining on Smoked Salmon, Swiss Almond Spread, and Crackers (Outdoorsman Food), we had the following True Conversation.

The Blond: "Do you think we will attract any wild animals with this food?"

The Colonel: "You mean like the bear you thought was breaking into the cabin last night? I don't think so."

The Blond: "I wasn't going to tell you this until we got back to the car, but I've been looking for a baseball bat sized stick since we got on this trail."

The Colonel: "You really are concerned about wild animals, aren't you?"

The Blond: (defensively) "Well, there was that lady who watched her guy get eaten by a mountain lion."

The Colonel: "Was that in Minnesota?"

The Blond: "No. California."

The Colonel: "Oh. Okaaaaay."

Tomorrow: (Hopefully) The Morons Rent a Fishing Boat

Camp Whatamoron

2008-09-22T16:10:00.000-07:00

Dear Mom,
My best friend and I got to camp and you know what? There wasn't anybody there!!!!

Grrrr!

So you know what we did? (hee-hee)

We just moved into a cabin anyway!!! We just grabbed all our stuff, like our comics, and our toothbrushes, and our pretty ponies, and our toothache drugs and we just brought them right into the cabin.

Then there was this guy, and he came by and he was all like, "What are you doing here?"

And we're all like, "We LIVE here."

And he was all like, "The owners are out of town."

And we were all like, "We don't even know what that means."

So he went away.

Here is a picture of my friend. We put our stuff in that cabin behind her.

Then do you know what? We wanted something to eat, so we made salads, but we didn't bring any salad dressing. Gross.

So then guess what! We made salad dressing out of (I'm not lying, quit it!) Mustard! It was all, mustard, and olive oil, and garlic powder, and pepper, and some coffee, I think.

It was good, but not really.

Then today, we were sitting outside, waiting for the counsellors to show up and stuff, and along came this cute little chimpmunk guy running around, so we started putting out peanuts and stuff, and he gobbled them right up.

He liked raisins the best. That's my friend's shoe right there in the movie!

So you know what I did? I put a raisin right on MY shoe! I did!

Then that crazy guy thought there was another raisin up my pants leg!

Now I hafta get a Rabies Shot. I hope it doesn't hurt.

That's all for now, mom. Send candy...

and raisins.

Your Son, Colonel

P.S. It's night time now on the second day and we still haven't seen ANYBODY and we're kinda scared.

Day 3: Sort of Normal

2008-06-24T19:32:00.000-07:00

In an effort to act like "Normal"people, the Nerds visit an amusement park.

The Blond packed a great picnic lunch.

(I just like this picture)

After lunch, the temp started rising, so we made a pretty good deal with the young parents. We'd each take turns watching Emma while the others went down some water slides.

Their trip up the wooden steps went by without any difficulty.

The blond and I would not be so lucky.

Heading up the steps for this slide, we got in line behind The Six Most Annoying and Self Absorbed 12 Year Old Girls in the World.

Knowing how high the bar is set for that sort of thing, you will obviously need some proof from the 45 MINUTE NON-STOP, NOT EVEN A PAUSE FOR BREATH, JABBER SESSION they held for our benefit. The Colonel actually tuned them out after about 5 seconds, so here is a quote that the Blond remembers:

"Idon'tknowhowIgotsotallwhenmymomissotinyImeanshe'sabout

4feetorsomethingswimmingistheworstexcerciseIwasinswimming

andilostallthisweightbutthenIjoinedsoftballandgainedallthismuscle

Ilost40poundsnolienokiddingIwantedtobeputinaregularclassbut

theyputmeinthisotherclasssandItriedtotalktotheteacherbuthedidn't

understandsoIwasdoingidenticalworkfortwoclassesovertwo

trimestersbutIamdonenow...."

At one point (this is true), the Blond looked at me and mouthed, "Please...kill me."

Through the fog of this conversation, a new horror began to dawn on the Colonel. This ride only allowed four people per raft, and there were six of them.

The sign at the top of the stairs confirmed my worst fears. It stated that groups of less that four would be paired up.

Being a clever Colonel, I sized up the situation by employing mathematics.

6 annoying girls minus 4 annoying girls equals 2 annoying girls.

2 annoying girls plus one Blond plus one Colonel equals One Raft Ride of Continued Purgatory.

This time it was my turn to direct the Blond's eyes toward the ominous sign and silently mouth, "No...please sweet mercy...no!"

It was then that fate intervened. There, in line in front of the Irritating Gang of Six were two wonderfully quiet 8-year old boys, riding alone. The attendant looked at them and shouted, "Any other groups of two?"

The Colonel almost dislocated his arm shooting up his hand.

"Us!" I pleaded, "We'll ride down with them!"

On the ride down, the boys and I discussed Randy Moss while the Blond screamed.

I'm still trying to figure out if her screaming was from the ride, or simply out of relief.

Epilogue:

Baseball heroics, wrong way driving, mass transit, shark petting, Uber-nerddom, laughing babies, Texas Hold 'em, roller coasters, and annoying pre-teens; it was all fantastic.

But often, the best moments are the simplest ones. Our family doesn't really know this, but sometimes when we are all traveling together, the Blond and the Colonel just like to hang back a bit behind the rest of them and appreciate what the Lord has given to us.

As we were leaving the park, following a wonderful day together, we were reminded once again how rare and precious these times really are. Everyone is getting older. These opportunities to be all in the same place may become more impractical as careers and geography begin to spread us apart. We can't possibly know what changes the next days, weeks, and years may bring.

We only knew that for that moment, we were together, and we were happy.

...and the Blond and the Colonel are very, VERY Blessed.

Nerdvana: Day 2

2008-06-23T20:10:00.000-07:00

Emma's Dad had a toothache, so the Colonel & The Blond took her out to learn Important Life Skills.

Here she learning how to pet a shark.

I don't know what her parents were thinking. The Colonel is getting to the age where he shouldn't really be trusted to keep his eye on a 1-year old, or even operate an automobile, for that matter. On this trip alone, by my latest count, the Colonel has:

1. Missed about 12 exits while engaged in animated discussions about Baseball.

2. Gone the wrong way down a one-way street (I am not making this up...) TWICE.

3. Driven over several small barnyard animals.

4. Allowed his granddaughter to pet a shark.

As if that were not bad enough, while the Blond and I were at the mall, we were thinking about how great of a workout it would be to briskly walk all the way around all three levels. With this in mind, I began to look around for stationary staircases, reasoning that one would want to take the stairs between floors for maximum workout efficiency.

I was a bit disappointed to see that there were only escalators available. That's when I thought, for a split second, and I am still not making this up:

"Man...no stairways. Only escalators...If they had a power outage they'd be Toast."

The Director picked up some Dr. House Medication, so it was off to Our Ultimate Destination.

"Everyone there was a nerd, except us."

If there is a pilgrimage for Geeks, we had definitely arrived.

The Hermit looked concerned.

Emma made some new friends. (Note the picture behind R2-D2)

Penny exhibited little or no resistance to the nerdovirus.

Neither did the Colonel. Most disturbing was the fact that we were ALL able to pose this shot from memory.

Fans of the strip "Great Moments in Star Wars" (Roughly 92% of the Colonel's readers) will appreciate the Director's joy at finding this strikingly accurate souvenir.

I include these final two pics, simply because they are just so cool. To stand there, right next to the real props and models, was actually pretty great. Yeah, there was some "educational" crud and applied science and all that garbage mixed in with it, (The Hermit said they had to include that interactive junk to get government funding) but overall, it was just totally, totally...well...

...cool.

And yes, we are Nerds.

Circle Me, Bert

2008-06-22T20:10:00.000-07:00

News from Nerdfest '08

Welcome to Minneapolis. Mall of America, Guthrie Theater, Fine Dining & Entertainment.

Or...You can sit in your room and play poker.

Some of the Prizes:

Star Wars Stickers
A Coloring Book
Fudge Rounds
2 Chuck Norris Posters
$7 in Cash Next Day, in true euphorian fashion, the Nerds get a big kick out of using the Mass Transit System.

An Example of "Minnesota Nice": A Lady gave up her seat for the guy with a baby. Then she disembarked at the Airport Station, so maybe it was "South Carolina Nice". Emma wanted to pull that kid's hair.

We don't know if Bert Circled Emma, but she did make it onto the Jumbo-Tron. Nerd quotient +23%

Emma missed some of the game.

But the Twins won their sixth straight.

Tommorrow: Nerdvana.

"This is for Everybody in 'Sota!"

2008-06-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

His quote, of course, not mine.

Pretty classy, though.

Way to go, KG.

Who am I Kidding?

2008-05-13T11:07:00.001-07:00

The Colonel is aware that several of his readers (3) check this blog for a semi-annual dose of moronic comedy. He usually tries to avoid "Family" news.

I post this, however, because there are Grandparents, Mean Aunts, Remote Adult Offspring, Former Piano Teachers, etc. who would probably like to see it. It is in order to keep them informed that I po...

Oh, the heck with it.

I'm posting this because the Colonel is a VERY PROUD FATHER.

(Apologies to friends with dial up. The video is reduced as much as possible without trashing the audio...)

Way to go, Penny.

Half Past Midnight: May 11th

2008-05-10T22:46:00.001-07:00

Happy Mother's Day...

The Colonel Needs Nyquil.

MVT Award

2008-04-28T05:20:00.000-07:00

"Please don't start forming emotional attachments to your tools..."

More sage counsel from the Blond because the Colonel is, of course, a Moron.

Almost daily, I don't know whether it is to take the edge off the mind-numbingly slow pace of the Bathroom Remodel from Purgatory, or if I am just an idiot, but I have been awarding "Most Valuable Player" awards to my tools.

It's fun watching them vie for the honors.

From the upstart Roto-Zip tm that helps the Colonel cut flawless electrical boxes in newly hung Sheetrock...

To old favorites like the left handed (Yes! Left Handed!) skill saw from Porter-Cable...

They all seem to be working very hard to impress me.

Sometimes, the competition is close. Yesterday, I was literally (and I use the word "literally" incorrectly) torn between the 28 volt Cordless Drill (a Christmas gift from the blond, and 4-time winner) and, this is true, a six foot 2x4.

But by day's end, something happened that changed all that.

The Colonel has a favorite 3 inch putty knife. It is not much to look at, with its beat up red handle & discolored blade. It is held together with electrical tape.

This putty knife has been with me since the beginning. In fact, it was there for the original bathroom remodel 20 years ago, and has taped, mudded and scraped its way through countless projects since then.

Oh, I've tried to replace it. I have an 8 inch taping knife, which, inexplicably, I hate.
But I love the little red guy. May be it's because it has helped me cover so many of my mistakes, or maybe it's because he just works so darn hard.

And that's what led to yesterday's tragedy. The Colonel was using his favorite 3 inch putty knife to mix 3 GALLONS of Thinset Mortar. What was I thinking? I felt the blade on my old friend start to wobble, but thought nothing of it. We had conquered tasks like this before.

Then it happened. There wasn't even a snap. Suddenly, I was holding an empty handle in my hand with the severed blade still embedded in the Thinset.
Tenderly, I pulled the blade out of the mortar and used it to finish the job. (I still hate that 8 inch knife).

Later, while cleaning up, the Blond moved to toss the two pieces of broken putty knife into the trash.

"Don't you dare!" I rasped, choking back the emotion, "don't you dare..."

I am not making this up. The retired putty knife now rests in a hallowed place in the Colonel's Tile & Sheetrock Cupboard. It is my hope that he will regale the younger tools with tales of adventure; stories accumulated over 20 years of service from scraping his first linoleum floor to that amazing summer of '98.

Rest well, little friend...a job well done.

A Moron, A Pipe Wrench, and a 2500 year old Theorem

2008-04-16T07:54:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been showering in the kitchen sink, with marginal results. People are beginning to avoid me at work. The only ones who who venture within smelling distance are curiosity seekers, asking questions like, "Why are your hands so dirty?" and "How did you get those nasty gouges in your head?" (Answer to both questions: Overhead Cast Iron Pipe)

Things The Colonel has Learned on this Project:

Wishing for something doesn't make it come true. Also, Cardboard boxes make lousy vanities.

A Corroded Tub Spout will cost you about $4,000.00, if you get the Blond involved.

There is never enough room for your stuff. This used to be Penny's room.

The ONLY way to remove an old Cast Iron Tub is to Beat the Snot out of it with a Big Hammer. (People told me this, but I didn't believe them. Math Geeks: Consult Pythagoras)

Leaving Cryptic Notes won't help once you cover them with Sheetrock.

There is a LOT more Crud in the Ceiling than you think.

The Colonel doesn't even want to discuss how he needed to rescind the Laws of Physics to get a New, LARGER Tub into a space formerly occupied by a SMALLER Tub, a smaller tub we had to DESTROY in order to remove.

Suffice to say, it's in place, relatively undamaged, but still needs major plumbing installation. But for right now, the Colonel is tired, sweaty, and needs a shower.

Dang...

Best Joke I've Heard This Week

2008-03-15T04:33:00.001-07:00

"I want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my Grandpa..."

"...not screaming in terror like his passengers."

Thanks, Brookie.

The Biggest Losers

2008-03-06T08:47:00.000-08:00

Actual Conversation when the Young Parents came Visiting...

Young Parents: "So this is that Low-Calorie, Fat-Free ice cream, huh? It's really not that bad."

Old Parents: "Yeah, it helps when we put hot fudge & sprinkles on it."

We're never going to win.

Awwwwwww....

2008-03-06T08:46:00.000-08:00

In the Spring, a Young Man's Fancy...

2008-02-07T11:02:00.000-08:00

To Graceland King, Reinman, The Blond, the Hermit, and anyone else who cares:

The Colonel was transfering old files to a new computer when he came accoss the following tidbit. It was originally posted on a Fantasy Football site when some misinformed soul had the audacity to suggest that Football had Replaced Baseball as the national pastime.

I will let the article speak for itself...

America's Pastime... Indoor Ball not withstanding, what sport comes to mind when we think of relaxing with our family on a warm or hot summer day? Hot Dogs, sunshine, a cold beverage of our personal choice. Does this bring soccer (shudder) to mind?

When you think of youth sports at its purest level, does your mind really wander toward little armored kids falling all over the grid-iron? Or do you smile and imagine a 12 year old kid, cap too big for his head, tossing a one hitter in the little league final?

Little League...Baseball...Even the words bring to the surface feelings of nostalgia, Americana, Family, and of course, Mom & apple pie. Yes, Virginia, there still is a little league. New dads still bring baseball mitts to the delivery room. Toddlers still swing plastic bats in their cribs. Each spring young boys still daydream about the coming season rather than listening to their English teachers. Grown men from all walks of life, businesses, churches, & bars still gather at community fields in record numbers to play the game in it's many forms, from softball to even whiffle-ball. Young men in high school still sacrifice their summers for the enjoyment of belonging to a cause greater than themselves; the team and the game itself. They play, families watch, fans gather, argue, keep book, spit seeds, and strategize from the stands. All in devotion to the greatest game ever created. Baseball...America's Pastime.

Sincerely, Abner Doubleday

10:38 pm, Supposed to be Sleeping

2008-02-07T01:01:00.001-08:00

Actual Conversation with the Blond...

The Colonel: (Without warning, after the Blond had begun to doze off) Hey! What about all the OTHER people in the Detention Center?

The Blond: (Stirring, but not missing a beat) Collateral damage. That's just the way it goes.

The Colonel: Ok. I feel better now.

(Rolls over and goes to sleep)

Thanks a lot, Luke.

"Ward...I'm worried about the Beaver"

2008-01-10T20:04:00.000-08:00

Last night, I got home late from a business trip and was just too exhausted to change clothes.

Sitting around in dress slacks, a shirt, and tie, I found myself feeling, well, rather sharp.

Dignified, as it were.

The Blond had saved dinner for me. As she served the meal, I noticed that her hair looked somewhat more bouffantish than usual.

Calling to my children, I began to dispense sage, fatherly advice, chuckling condescendingly as I tousled their hair.

As the evening wore on, I realized that my every comment, whether funny or not, was accompanied by disembodied laughter. Through the haze of smoke from my pipe, I could not pin down the source.

As color began to drain from my surroundings, I decided it was time to change into jeans and a t-shirt.

Housekeeping

2007-12-23T05:42:00.000-08:00

Hey, a quick shout-out to Reinman for 3 reasons...

1. He actually Posted.

2. It's a really good, fun post. The Colonel encourages all fellow nerds to participate in the discussion.

3. I wish I'd thought of it, Darn it.

Final note:

The Sports press has started calling her "Yoko Romo."

The Colonel laughed.

Seasonal Felicitations

2007-12-19T13:22:00.000-08:00

To You and, (if applicable), to Yours.

Actual Conversation...

The Blond: Did you read the Christmas Letter we just got? Maybe we should send out Christmas letters.

The Colonel: We have a blog for that.

The Blond: Well, we should at least send out Christmas Cards.

The Colonel: Again...we have a blog.

The Blond: But your blog isn't even about nice things like family and Christmas. It's mostly moron stories, grammatical errors, and an excuse to whine about the dog.

The Colonel: Exactly. Our Christmas letter.

The Blond: Well then, you should at least post a family pic with Christmas Greetings from the Colonel, The Jilb, the Baby, the Director, the Blond, the Hermit, the Penny, and the Coffee Boy.

Yes, dear...

All for Joy Melikes to Sing

2007-12-15T05:49:00.000-08:00

OK, we’re going to go over this one last time…

It’s “Colly Birds”, not “Calling Birds”. What IS a “Calling Bird”, anyway?

Go ahead and pronounce it, “in egg-SHELL-cious Dei-Oh”. It’s easier to say, is actually proper, and doesn’t refer to the Minnesota Wild’s Arena Sponsor.

And…

It’s not a song about a bunch of “Merry Gentlemen”, it goes “God Rest Ye Merry, (comma) Gentlemen.” It’s all about the punctuation.

Come on people. We only have ten days left.

Sing with all your heart, but sing correctly.

Sincerely,
The Christmas Carol Curmudgeon

Life on the Road: Moron Edition

2007-12-06T12:26:00.000-08:00

I was on my way for a day trip to the land of Paul and Babe when the snow began to fall. The Blond, showing her usual confidence in my driving skills, left me a terse voice mail:

“Don’t be a moron. (has she MET me?) Just stay overnight and come home tomorrow.”

Glancing around at the interior of the Vibe, I took the following inventory for my forced sleep-over on the road:

Clothing: Pretty much what I was wearing
Toiletries: Nothing
Food: ½ Package of breath mints
Contents of my Wallet: $1 and a bunch of Christmas shopping receipts

Stopping off at Mega-lo Mart, I was able to use a magical piece of plastic to obtain cheap little razors, deodorant, and other accouterments.

The toothbrush folds up like a switchblade…cool.

Heading back to the hotel, my rumbling intestines told me I still hadn’t solved the food problem. Momentarily forgetting the meager contents of my wallet, I pulled into the drive-thru of a local eatery and ordered what would prove to vaguely resemble, but not quite in fact be, a burrito.

I am not making this up. The $1.39 cent price tag completely drained my wallet and was only covered following a frantic search through the cushion of the passenger seat for the final necessary coins. Smashing through a snow bank to enter the hotel parking lot, I realized that I still needed something to drink. The bouncing of the vehicle dislodged a cylindrical object that rolled beneath my feet. It was an open, ½ full, but completely frozen can of Diet Coke.

Treasure...

In the room, I enjoyed my sumptuous feast. Between bites of the faux burrito, I warmed the can between my hands, sucking tiny sips of flat coke juice as they thawed.

Carefully hanging the same work clothes I would need to look professional the next day, I promptly fell asleep in my underpants. I mention this only because this blog has previously declared the word “underpants” to be funny.

The next morning, I crawled to the bathroom sink where I discovered the accuracy of the term, “cheap little razors”. I actually had this phone conversation with the Blond while I was shaving:

Me: “Yeah, it went pretty well. (Scraaaaaape…nick) I got a cool toothbrush. And I got some of those disposable razors.”

Her: “What kind of razors?”

Me: “Well, they had a single Gillette for $2.95, (gouge…drip, drip) and they had a generic package that was 5 for 97 cents!”

Blond: (Sighing) “And which one did you get?”

Me: (actually wrapping my neck in toilet paper to avoid getting bloodstains on my shirt) “What do you think?”

Leaving several layers of my skin in the sink along with the other 4 razors, I headed into work. The first thing my co-workers greeted me with was:

“Didn’t you wear those clothes yesterday?”

One Midori, Two Midori

2007-11-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

The Colonel & The Blond have been concerned that with a 75% reduction in occupancy, our home would cease to be the hotbed of teenage infestation & pestilence that we have always known and loved.

We needn't have worried. As The Blond pointed out, "If you get the toys, they will come."

A previous post chronicled the advent of Guitar Hero III as the latest insanity to invade our domicile. (Remember DDR?) Since then, the average number (127) of budding Rock Legends living in our basement has been exceeded only by the decibel level (147) penetrating through to the former serenity of the old people's living area.

Last night was quieter, with only Li'l Penny & Brookie slamming away on the little plastic guitar-shaped thingies. Since "Midori" is the only acceptable female role model available in the game, they both chose her as their on-screen alter-ego.

It was kind of bizzare.

But it was not nearly as unsettling as when they suddenly became very quiet and disappeared, giggling, up to Penny's bedroom.

"What is going on now?" the Colonel wondered, "Why the secrecy? Have they gotten a private cell phone call from a, (shudder) BOY?"

Again, the Colonel needn't have worried.

Minutes later, the two reappeared in proper Midori attire and continued to Rock & Roll all night.

The Colonel, meanwhile, stuffed cotton in his ears, reclined on the sofa and read an old James Herriot book, secure in the peaceful knowledge that everything was still as it should be.

I Always Believe There's a Penny

2007-10-30T07:35:00.000-07:00

Li'l Penny = Guitar Hero

Note the red eyes. Excessive game play or sell out to rock & roll culture?

It's not so bad that she has picked up a new habit and on-screen persona. She named her fictional band "One Cent" (for L'il Penny...get it?)

It's not so bad that she was challenged to a winner-take-all Guitar Shred-off with this guy... and won.

(It was a bit uncomfortable for the Colonel, but not realy so bad when she ended up doing an encore with Slash to the tune of "Salutations from the Rain Forest" or something like that.)

It's not even so bad that she flies through songs and solos that the Colonel & the Blond knew by heart DECADES before she was even born.

No. All of that is fine.

What is unacceptable is the fact that she plays it so much better than me.

I'm going to practice now.

The Gales of November Come Early

2007-10-18T15:06:00.000-07:00

OK, I found the Blond, but almost lost my hat.

The video in the previous post was only the beginning. The waves became ginormous as the day went on.

Scratch the plans for a lake-walk & picnic. Also, nix any ideas about staying in our room, as its ceiling had developed the time-share equivalent of post nasal drip.

So even though highway 61 was washing over in some places, the Blond (who fears NO wave) says, "Let's Vibe up to Grand Marais, just for the fun of it."

But 1st, we had to stop at the guest services center (Motto: We make your Cell Phone Company Look Friendly), and tell them about the leak. On the way in, the Blond and I were fantasizing about how they would take care of our inconvenience. Maybe they would even (giggle with anticipation) put us in a bigger room!

This was their response, which I am not making up:

"Would you like a couple buckets?"

So in true REO Speedwagon fashion, we had to kill some time until the dripping stopped on its own.

In Grand Marais, we decided to have lunch at a popular pizza place named after a couple of Norwegian guys.

Our first sign of trouble should have been the sign posted on the front door sternly admonishing us that they were "Severely Understaffed". Feeling rather guilty about our part in all of this, we went in anyway.

The person behind the counter was, without a doubt, the meanest lady in the world.

It is so much fun to eat at a restaurant where everyone hates you.

Then, to make matters worse, the Blond couldn't immediately find the money to pay her. As she rooted around in her purse, the Lady was wearing a hole in the floor from tapping her foot. Her "huffy breath" was rivaling the wind off the lake.

"what are you doing..." I muttered to the blond, under my breath, "don't mess with this chick...are you trying to get us killed?"

On the other hand, the pizza was pretty good. After chasing my hat down main street, we bought some fudge from a much nicer lady and drove back to our soggy domicile.

The rain had stopped, and it was time for "The Office".

Like an Old Man Trying to Return Soup at a Deli

2007-10-18T06:53:00.000-07:00

After a quick meal at Betty's Pies (motto: Come for the Pie...Stay for the Pie...It's in Our NAME so you're going to SIT THERE and Have SOME PIE! Got it, Hon?), the Colonel & the Blond headed up the north shore for some Great-Lake-Themed rest & relaxation.

Except for the leaky ceiling and back-drafting fireplace, we kinda like our little rental studio. It has a huge, ancient concrete dock right out the back door that bears a striking resemblance to an infamous river-spanning interstate bridge.

Naturally, being morons, we had to walk out there.

More accurately, ONE of us had to walk out there. Meanwhile, Miss Gitchee Gumi was not pleased.

I'm still looking for the Blond.

Same Song...Second Verse

2007-10-11T18:47:00.000-07:00

They're going to do it again.

You have been warned.

Black Umbrellas

2007-10-06T05:39:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, I have been following the "Death of Lisa Moore" story in the Funky Winkerbean Strip with more than a passing interest. Maybe the Colonel is getting old and losing his famed Vulcanish control over his emotions, but he actually got a bit choked up over this week's climactic installments. (Not that this has become a habit or anything)

Better commentators than I have waxed the elephant about the appropriateness of the story line, the use of symbolism, and even FW's somewhat bizarre transformation from a clever 1970's High School strip to a maudlin, tragedy-obsessed soap offering that would make Bill Shakespeare scream "Lighten UP, Already!"

So instead, we will offer this random observation.

The entertainment industry, for obvious emotional reasons, often portrays graveside funerals in the rain. (or snow)

Where do the guests get all those black umbrellas?

How many of us have black umbrellas laying around so we can attend a poetically staged graveside service?

Does the Funeral Home provide them? Not in our town.

I know from my previous life, that if this scene were to be shot in our local cemetery you would find, rather than a sea of black coverings, a rainbow of brightly colored canopies, with more than one proudly advertising a local beer distributor.

A Tale of Two Tacticians

2007-09-24T15:56:00.000-07:00

…and a Tribute to Torii

For you, Rob.

Thanks to a great boss, The Colonel, The Blond, the Director, and the Jilb managed to score some nice seats at the final Twins home game of ’07.

From a standings point of view, it was a meaningless game. There was, however as any Twins fan knows, a special significance in its potential for being the last time we might see Torii Hunter in a Twins uniform.

We got to see a good pitching performance by young Kevin Slowey, and the Hometown favorites had scrapped their way to a 5-1 lead by the 7th inning.

As Torri stepped to the plate, we knew that with a 4 run lead, there would be no bottom of the ninth. We were possibly watching #48’s final home at bat in Minnesota.

So, down by 4, in an otherwise pointless game, what does Ozzie “I’m off my meds again” Guillen do?

Intentional walk. Bush League. The Director said it was just Ozzie’s way of giving the Minnesota fans the old Double Duece.

Fast Forward to the top of the 9th. Gardy sends the team out in the field, as usual. Then, once they have taken their place, he sends Jason Tyner out to replace Torii, giving the crowd of 29,000 their chance to send our center fielder out in style.

Classy move, Gardy. Yes, that is the theme from “The Natural” you hear in the background. The Colonel, stoic that he is, had to choke back a couple droplets.

Thanks for the Memories, Torii

Now She Can Say "Yup", Too

2007-08-31T18:42:00.000-07:00

I'm hoping someday she'll teach me how to actually invest wisely.

For now I'm just the proud, camera wielding reflection in the far left window pane.

How to Lose Friends & Alienate People

2007-07-15T12:21:00.000-07:00

A wise man once told me, "Hey, Colonel, you're a pretty anti-social kind of guy. If you're walking through Wal-Mart and don't want to talk to anyone, just pretend you are on your cell phone."

Good advice, which I often follow to the letter.

Today, however, on a particularly misanthropic shopping trip, I realized with horror that I had actually forgotten my phone at home.

So I pretended anyway.

I don't think anyone believed me.

Live! From Bismarck?

2007-07-11T14:58:00.000-07:00

I used to like my Cell Phone company. Really, I did.

Friends would whine & complain about their coverage, their bill, etc, and I would just smile in smug satisfaction over the fact that I never had any trouble with mine.

"You poor, silly people," I would think, "Why can't you be more like me? I Love my Cell Phone Company."

I was so enthusiastic, that when our provider erected a new tower that extended service to the nether-regions of our territory, I forced my cohorts to pose for a triumphant, fist pumping, cell phone picture in celebration.

Yes, I am a Nerd. But the point is, I was happy. I looked forward to being able to converse with the Blond from the Walleye Inn without using a calling card. Cellular One was good, and all was right in the world.

What a fool I was.

Upon receiving this month’s cell bill, I was surprised to see, on my Unlimited Statewide plan, $34.30 for “Roaming.”

Hey, the Colonel does a lot of Stupid things, but he does not “Roam”.

So I called the Cell One “Help Line” (1-800-we don’t care).

“Hi,” I began, “I have unlimited statewide calling, and I have not been out of state this month, yet my bill shows 98 minutes worth of roaming charges.”

Cell-One Drone: “Yes sir, you made those calls from Bismarck, North Dakota.”

The Colonel: “I don’t think you understand. I have not been out of state.”

Cell One Drone: “Our data shows that you made those calls from Bismarck.”

I thought for a moment: “When does it say I made the first call from “Bismarck”?

Cell One Drone: “9:49 am, May 29th.”

The Colonel: "When was my last call before that?”

Cell One Drone: “8:47 am, Same Day.”

The Colonel: “And where did I make that call from?”

Cell One Drone: “International Falls, Minnesota”

I’m not proud of this, but I actually said, “Do you have any idea how far Bismarck is from International Falls? How could I have gotten there in one hour? I’m not Clark Kent, and this isn’t Smallville.” (Yes, I said that. I'm sorry.)

After I made some more, dumb comments about Star Trek and transporters, and how I wished I actually was smart enough to travel 441 miles in 1 hour, so I would be rich enough to carry an iphone, instead of my stupid Cell-One Brick, a “Supervisor” (“Hey, Larry, we got another jerk on line one…”) gave me the credit, but actually warned me not to make any more calls from Baudette, or I would get more roaming charges, seeing as it is so close to the Bismarck Tower.

I hate my cell phone company.

It's Not that I Mind Being a Grandpa

2007-07-04T06:49:00.000-07:00

I mean, just look at her...

But Seriously, I'm only 45.

That's why the Colonel was kind of shocked, when on a recent business trip, he stopped by his favorite restaurant for breakfast.

"Good Morning," the Colonel said, "I'll have a Sausage McMuffin and a Small Coffee."

The Lady behind the counter didn't hesitate. "That's a Sausage McMuffin and a SENIOR COFFEE," She repeated brightly, and LOUDLY.

I was so stunned, I didn't know how to react. She was totaling the order. I HAD to say SOMETHING...

"gluuurp," I mumbled.

At least I got my coffee for free.

The Catcher & His Eye

2007-06-18T18:32:00.001-07:00

After the youngest son caught a foul tip with the side of his eye socket, The Blond responded in a way only a mother could.

"He needs ice!" She declared, heading for the concession stand.

Thoughtful teammates offered to eat his ice pack when he was through with it.

No Vogons Allowed

2007-06-15T17:39:00.000-07:00

Like the Rest of the Family, The Colonel simply has to post about lil' M.

I Could Post about the Happy Blond & Happy Penny...

I could post about how proud we all are... (we are.)

But instead, the Colonel will post about how impressed he was with the two parents' strength and soundness of mind, even in the midst of a child birth experience.

When given the choice to have a slimy, bug-eyed, tentacled freak for a primary physician, they made the wise decision to go the more traditional route.

Good Choice.

Happy Birthday, Emma.

OK, Peter, I Apologize

2007-06-11T12:25:00.000-07:00

The Colonel recently got a taste of his own medicine.

Frequent readers of this blog (and you know who you are, Bob) will perhaps recall my rant over Hollywood's current obsession with stretching movies out over 3 hours. In an ironically long post (and I use the word "ironically" correctly) the Colonel went on and on about how directors like Peter J. and Gore V have lost all sense of editorial discipline.

It was time to edit the Hermit's Grad Video. Those who watched him grow up, know that he has provided the Colonel and The Blond with an embarrassment of comic material over the years, much of it captured on video tape.

Somehow, I got the idea I had to use it all. I don't know what came over me.

2002: The Soon-to-Be-a-Daddy's Grad Video: 6 1/2 Minutes. Inspiring and Concise.
2004: Coffee Boy's Grad Video: 8 1/2 Minutes. Touching and Effective.*

Doogie's Grad Video premiered last Sunday at 15 minutes.

Thank goodness for YouTube'S policy of limiting submissions to 10 minutes or less. They forced some linear integrity I did not otherwise have.

Here's the Edited Version. (9:59)

Congratulations Doogie.

*We'll post Mike's Grad Video later this week.

Memorial Day, 2007

2007-05-28T15:03:00.000-07:00

As he drove slowly past the cemetery, the not-really-a-colonel wasn't sure if it was proper protocol or not, but he saluted.

Shedding a tear, he continued driving home to enjoy the life these men and women had provided for him, at the cost of their own.

Things I Do Because I'm a Moron VIII

2007-05-04T13:23:00.000-07:00

It was time to register the Hermit* for College. Before we left, I said to the Blond, “Hey, I think I’ll put on a jacket with these jeans so I can pretend to be some kind of Obnoxious Liberal College Professor.”

The Hermit’s older brother is a Post Grad Student and Part-time Professor at the same school. We had made arrangements to meet him in front of the registration hall before student orientation.

When we pulled up and saw his choice of attire, I knew my moron instincts that morning had been functioning with their usual alacrity. (and I use the word somewhat incorrectly...)

Any thoughts I may have been having about leaving my costume in the car paled in comparison to the prospect of totally embarrassing the Boy, the Other Boy, and the Blond. (Who is used to it by now…)

Note the Matching Shoes…We don't make this stuff up…

The Hermit said he was glad to be getting away.

*In his speech, the College President actually said you can’t be a “Hermit” at BSU…Time for a new moniker.

Proverbs 31

2007-04-24T20:23:00.000-07:00

April 24, 1982

April 24, 2007

Yeah...The Colonel and the Blond are thankful...

Sanskrit for "Beautiful"

2007-04-24T13:05:00.000-07:00

Adventures at Sundara Spa:

To Celebrate their 25th, the Colonel & the Blond headed out for a weekend of relaxation and personal stretchiness in order to bring you "Self-Serving Post #2" (See below)

The weekend began with a stop in Duluth, just to get out of town.
Noteworthy: The Hawthorn Suites are located in a renovated warehouse. This creates interesting architectural challenges. Like this 4 foot pillar in the CENTER of our room...

This was not a problem until the Colonel tried to find the bathroom in the middle of the night. His knee still hurts.

On the plus side, if Rainy Day/Double Deuce/VideoBoys NG/Silent Partner/Squeaky Tripod Productions, or any of their corporate subsidiaries ever need a ship interior, or spooky warehouse set in which to film, this is the place to book a night's stay. These freakish pillars are, like, everywhere.

After a quick stop in Sparta, WI to visit some favorite people, it was on to Sundara Spa.

Nestled in the woods outside of Wisconsin Dells, this world-class Spa was guaranteed to bring relaxation and a sense of well-being to the Blond, while making the Colonel feel as uncomfortable as humanly possible.

The first thing we noticed, upon checking in, was a couple dozen guests (median age:73) walking around in bathrobes. The Colonel did NOT need to see that.

After a cursory orientation ("Here's your room") we were directed down to the "Purifying Bath Ritual". Here's where the fun really began.

(Stock photo...I have no idea who that lady in the swimsuit is...)

The Purifying Bath is a complex series of Cambrian Sand Polish, Steam, Hydrating Mist, and alternating Cold/Hot Immersion. Trust me, this is not something you can figure out on your own.

Here was our orientation:

In the Locker Room:

Colonel: "Uh...could I get a locker, please?"

17 year old locker room attendant kid: (Waking up...) "Gee, I dunno...Let's push some random buttons until one opens."

Colonel and the Blond: "So how does this whole "Bath Ritual Thing" work?"

Locker Room Kid: "Uh, I dunno...this is kinda my first day. I guess I'm supposed to talk you through it."

The Blond: "Hey, that's OK, we're trainers by profession. You can practice your presentation on us."

Locker Room Kid: "OK...uh...I got a cheat sheet here somewhere. I think it's in the locker room. Let me go get it."

We never saw him again.

After the Purifying Bath, ("Oooooh-ooooh Brrrrrr! Cold! AAAAAAH HOTHOTHOT! Oh! Oh! Cold again! Ow...HOT! etc.) We ventured into the "Quiet Room". This is where you sit and appreciate the peacefulness, secure in the knowledge that soon your "therapist" will come, take you back to the tastefully decorated chamber, and beat the stuffing out of you.

The Blond and I took them up on the "Spa Together" option. This way there would be no surviving witnesses.

Seriously, they were great. The only weird part was that the Blond's therapist looked almost exactly like this guy:

Imagine if PAB was a Buddhist, and you kind of get the idea. The Blond had to suppress giggles for the first five minutes or so, and was OK after that. The Colonel, meanwhile was quietly discovering new synonyms for the words "intense pain".

The food was OK, if you think cows are sacred. These were called "Spring Rolls" and required the Colonel to "Spring" for about $96.

This was our first stop upon escaping.

Regular readers of this feature will hopefully recognise the true intent of this article. Our stay at Sundara was, without a doubt, one of the greatest, most relaxing and meaningful vacations of our lives. The facility is beautiful, the staff is first rate, the atmosphere is TOTALLY relaxing and the food is healthy, exotic, & delicious. We cannot imagine a better way to have spent our 25th Anniversary weekend.

With that said, we can truthfully state that we will never spend two days and nights there again.

Next year, we are going to stay longer.

The Sweep Continues

2007-04-24T12:02:00.000-07:00

Just a quick shout out to the Rainy Day / Double Deuce Pictures Media Conglomeration on another fine showing at the Annual Bemidji Beaver Film Fest.

The following pics don't do justice to the great job Andie K (Elaine in "Doing Anything" and the Heroine in "Requeim") and her team did in putting together a truly 1st class event this year complete with a red carpet party, paparazzi, interviews, and even an in-house band.

Bad pics by the Colonel aside, the films & links at the bottom of this report will be worth it.

The Director takes time out to discuss fashion with a red carpet reporter.

Northern Minnesota's greatest directors and one of their biggest stars mug for the Band Blog camera.

Some of the "Little People" enjoy the show from the cheap seats.

The Director celebrates with two (Yes, Two...)VIP's right after sweeping "Best Picture" and "Critic's Choice for the 2nd year.

OK, as promised...Here's some of the films and links to others:

Requiem for a Soda: Rainy Day Pictures: Best Picture and Critic's Choice Winner, 2007

Seen: Double Duece Pictures: One of the Colonel's Favorite Entries

ADD: A Dysfunctional Documentary: GlenMike Productions: Another Great Film with a cool tribute to last year's winner in mid-stream.

Prelude: Rainy Day Pictures: The aforementioned winner from 2006.

For more film fest info, as well as additional films from Rainy Day Pictures, visit these sites:

The Bee Blog and Rainy Day Picture's YouTube Site

Self-Serving Blog Post: n. (org: IABTABK,c.2007) 1. Any post intended to ingratiate the author to subject of said post, in the event of Senor Spielbergo depositing a wheelbarrow full of money on the subject's front lawn. 2. Any post containing a thinly veiled attempt to brag about one's offspring. 3. Both (vulgar)

Hymn #57 in the Red Book

2007-04-08T08:15:00.000-07:00

The Church that the Colonel grew up in had very old, brown hymnals. Not only did they smell like your great aunt's living room, but half of the hymns were actually in Finnish.

The Colonel remembers happily singing along, when one of the the elders would suggest a hip diity from the 1700's that would go like this:

Me oikeastaan harhaisku meidän kirkollinen. Ainoa ainoa fiksu kerrakseen jotta haeskella rikki käännös kuulua kuinka hävittäminen nyt kuluva asema has ajaksi objektimuoto

Finally, the church procured a pile of song books that were written in english. This was generally seen as a move in the right direction. Of course, anyone who understands churches and traditions knows that we also had to hang on to the old, Finnish books, "just in case".

This led to a lot of song suggestions followed by, "Which one?" 'Where is that?" "mikä by indiotic debiili!" "Which book is that in again?"

Finally, they settled on a system, as it were. As we would finish one song, a guy up front would clear the dust from his lungs and call out, (This is true...) "Hymn #57 in the Red Book!" And we would all sing it. (It was one of my favorites...really.)

This same situation must have occured in many churches as hymnals have modernized thoughout the years. Some handle the confusion better than others.

The Blond an I visited a Church this Easter. There, in the pew rack was the older, traditional hymn book. Right along side of it was this:

It was so cool...

A "Moron" Short

2007-04-04T06:03:00.000-07:00

Walking through the lobby at a favorite local restaurant, I was accosted by an elderly man with a very sincere and important question:

"What is Donna's last name?" He demanded.

My actual response: "Donna who?"

The Colonel is still a Moron.

Ha-Ha! We're Nerds--315751.3175735667

2007-04-01T16:27:00.000-07:00

Earlier in the day, The Colonel had emptied a cooler into the sink. The ice inside had formed into a reasonably symmetrical cube. An "Ice Cube", if you will.

Now, The Colonel knows what at least 33% of his readers are thinking, "Say, that looks disturbingly like a Borg Cube, as featured in Numerous Star Trek: Next Generation Episodes and Films, including but not limited to: "Q-WHO?", First Contact, and the incredible 2-parter "Best of Both Worlds". (Greatest Cliffhanger...Ever: "Mr. Worf...Fire.")

The rest of you probably are not thinking anything like that, but you are wrong.

Of course it looks like a Borg Cube.

Upon noticing this, the Colonel simply HAD TO dump a cup of hot coffee on it, effectively simulating the photon torpedo damage inflicted by the Enterprise Crew upon their first encounter with the frightening, but at the time, poorly costumed alien race.

It was pretty cool.

This appearance of the Borg Cube was, to the Colonel, an event akin to the Madonna appearing on an interstate overpass. He simply had to share this occasion with someone.

"Look!" he said to the Blond, "It's a Borg Cube! And the Coffee looks like a Photon Blast!"

"Yeah," Said the Blond, "I did that too."

A One-Minute Memory

2007-03-29T09:04:00.000-07:00

Times being what they are, the Colonel recently found himself in a class where he was required to relate, in about a one minute time span, his Favorite Vacation Memory. Even those he has promised to quit posting all this family stuff, it seems to be the mood he is in lately, so he thanks you for your tolerance.

Here's what he said (sort of...) :

My favorite vacation memory, oddly enough, is from a “working” vacation. My wife, our four children and I were at the McDonald’s Worldwide convention in Orlando Florida. Whenever we had been to conventions with our family in the past, we would typically arrange for child care and other activities to keep our kids occupied while we toured the convention floor, met with vendors, and generally attended to business.

On this particular trip, our children decided they wanted to spend a morning at our hotel, lounging by the pool, while Becky and I went off to the convention center, 10 miles away. They assured us that they could take care of themselves and would meet us on the convention floor for lunch later in the day.

As parents, this was a bit of a stretch for us. We honestly weren’t quite sure our kids were old enough to handle the responsibility of getting themselves ready, finding the appropriate bus, navigating an unfamiliar town, and making their way through a meeting complex so large that it boggles the mind. After some persuasion, however, we relented, gave them specific shuttle directions, and instructed them to meet us on the convention floor, in front of the food service area at half past noon.

This memory doesn’t involve a dramatic missing persons report, or a hilarious series of miscommunications and events, ending with a happy tearful reunion. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as that. Instead, it involves Becky and me, standing in the food service area of the Orange County Convention Center, nervously looking through a teeming crowd of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of our charges, and waiting expectantly for that visual confirmation and that they had arrived safely.

At precisely 12:30 pm, the crowd ahead of us parted for a moment, and there they were, standing together, wearing their neat little McDonald’s shirts, and waiting for us exactly where we had asked them to be.

It was such a small thing, just an instant in our lives. I do not know why, but it seemed to be an epochal moment for our family. It was a moment where time stood still just long enough for Becky and I to realize that things had changed. These four children were no longer that. They were becoming young adults.

We had no idea at the time of the different paths our futures would take, the changes that would occur shortly thereafter, or the wonderful new additions our little circle of a family would gain. I do not believe that we can be trusted, in advance, with that kind of information.

But I do believe we are given glimpses, those moments to grasp that something so important is happening that no random fluctuations of circumstance, before or after the event could alter its significance. This had been one of those glimpses. I believe that had we taken different paths in time, had we made different choices before or after, and had the story of our lives been far different than the reality we now know, we still would have somehow converged on that one moment, looking across the crowd at our four kids, and knowing that nothing would ever be the same.

It Was 23 Years Ago Today...

2007-03-16T06:57:00.001-07:00

Happy Birthday, Reinman.

Disclaimer: The Colonel apologises for temporarily turning this into a bit of a "Family" blog. Having gotten back into the habit of posting, he promises to return soon to:
1. Sarcastic Commentary
2. Confessions of Personal Ineptitude
3. Random, unnecessary Capitalization
4. The Occasional Film Review
5. Overuse of Ellipses...
6. News about the Stupid Dog (NOT Officially part of the Colonel's Family)
7. Referring to himself in the third person (He Promises...)
8. Useless Links.

Oh-No!!!!!

2007-03-15T14:59:00.000-07:00

Hello? Mrs. Pommelhorse?

2007-03-08T07:04:00.000-08:00

I'd like to get down now.....

Is there anybody still out there?

Here's a quick conversation from this morning:

The Blond (heading out the door): "Hey. If you take a shower today, you'll have to go downstairs and get a new towel."

The Colonel (softly): "A Shower? It's my day off. You're lucky I put on pants."

Ahhhhhhh, the end of writer's block.

An Inconvenient Truth

2006-12-27T06:52:00.000-08:00

Faithful readers may remember this photo from December 2005...

The Colonel puts a considerable amount of effort into the sidewalk "Luminairas" each year. The process usually involves freezing buckets and buckets of water, along with various body parts, in order to achieve a delightful, dare I say, almost Currier & Ives type of Christmas setting in front of the house.

Here is an actual photo of our best efforts to freeze the luminairas in 2006. The pathetic little ice chunks before you are all that survived our unseasonably warm weather. But the Colonel is a Moron. He persisted anyway...

I actually kept the strings of bare light bulbs strung out along the garden blocks, waiting and hoping for the beautiful frozen globes that would never come. We tried, we really tried to make more, but the water just sat there in the buckets...mocking us with their liquidity.

Dogs would stop by for a quick drink, and passing neighbors were heard to whisper, "Now that's just sad."

Darn you, Al Gore...

From the Walleye Inn

2006-12-13T20:13:00.000-08:00

The Colonel has a new habit.

It seems the only time I post anymore is when I'm sitting in lonely hotel rooms, down the hall from over-priced vending machines.

Tonight, I am in "The Walleye Inn" in Baudette, MN

I love this Hotel. It has a hand-written sign in the lobby which I will quote without making anything up...

"For your safety and the safety of our guests, Please do not bring Ice Augers into your rooms."

So I was supposed to be putting together a PowerPoint presentation, but realized I was running short of what little brain power I had. I needed soda pop and something salty.

Unfortunatley, I had exactly $2 in my wallet.

Cautious but still hopeful, I made my way down to the vending machines.

Wow...$1.50 for Diet Pepsi...

That left me with 50 cents. I peered through the glass of the snack machine.

Arrrrgh. EVERTHING was 75 cents.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets in despair and turned back toward my room.

jingle jingle...

...four pennies and an EXTRA QUARTER.

I was so happy.

So I wrote this post instead of working, but that's OK, because I probably won't sleep much tonight anyway.

Some guy in the next room just started up an Ice Auger.

Sweet Home (from) Chicago

2006-12-08T20:37:00.000-08:00

Finally heading home...

My Kind of Town

2006-12-07T20:27:00.000-08:00

With Final Exams taking place tommorow, I'm going to take Reinman's advice and do a quick picture post. (and not feel cheap about it...)

The "Incredible Misses" are into coloring.
They bring coloring books to class.
They color during lectures.
They color while they are participating in class discussions.
They color pictures of cute little dogs.
They give these pictures to other people in the class.
They are Bubbles.

Here is the one they gave me.

This is the Bridge that spans Lake Fred to link the Lodge with the Training Center.
In the Winter, they call it the Fridge, or the Freezeway. I've been explaining to people that I'm from Minnesoata as I walk accross the Fridge without my coat.

I am an Idiot.

One final note: The Fire Alarm went off for the second time at 11pm last night.

My roomate had just returned to the vending machine when it happened.

The Great Chicago Fire

2006-12-06T20:10:00.000-08:00

Supplemental Installment:

As I was typing the previous post, the fire alarms suddenly went off.

It was just a false alarm, but Chicago's Finest had to come and give us the All Clear.

When the alarms began, of course I grabbed the laptop and camera. This was, after all, a Bloggable(tm) Moment.

Nothing really noteworthy happened, except that in the moments before the incident, my roommate had finally located a very elusive snack machine, three floors above our room.

This is true. We had been trying to find this machine for three days. We had heard rumors of it, but due to the unique layout of this facility, we had not been able to actually locate it, or even confirm it's existence. After hearing yet another report that it was "somewhere on the 3rd floor", my roomate had set off in search of the mythological device and its siren song late-night snacks.

Again, this is true. He had found the machine, and had joyfully inserted a dollar into its slot at the EXACT moment the real sirens went off.

Strobe Lights began to flash in the halls and EVERY fireproof door between him and the ground floor prompty slammed shut.

It took him quite a while to meet us in the lobby.

Take Me Back to Chicago

2006-12-06T18:25:00.000-08:00

Installment #4

Today, I was traded.

At classes like the one I'm attending, we are often placed in teams around tables. As a team, we study scenarios, solve challenges, and generally compete against the other tables.

This morning, as we took our customary places, the instructor informed us that they were going to make a few "Changes".

As soon as she said that, I began to gather up my stuff.

You see, I have been to 3 different classes in the past three months. At each one of them, they have asked just a couple of people to change tables halfway through the week.

Out of Three classes, I have been the one "traded" Three times. This would make it four for four.

Sure enough, she called my name. I grabbed my gear and headed to another table.

Why me?

I'd like to think that the authorities constantly trade me so that I might share my incredible knowledge and charm with as many people in the class as possible.

I'd also like to think I can still sing Karaoke.

In February, 1987, the Minnesota Twins backed a truck up to Olympic Stadium in Montreal, dumped a load of compost on the Expo's lawn, and walked away with relief Pitcher Jeff Reardon. The Twins went on to win the world series.

It was a trade specifically designed to make the Twins better.

8 Years later, the Minnesota Vikings Traded Randy Moss to the Oakland Raiders for compost of slightly lesser value.

It was regarded by many as a trade specifically designed to get rid of a jerk.

My new team is made up entirely of women. They are VERY proud of this. They had even named themselves "The Empowered Misses".

But they made an accommodation for me...

In case you can't read it, their team sign now reads, "Empowered Misses...plus Him".

Just call me number 84...

The Night Chicago Died

2006-12-05T17:47:00.000-08:00

Installment 3: Karaoke Superstars...

Quick...Name two things that when mixed together, can become highly toxic, and present a grave danger to all life within the immediate vicinity.

If the first things that came to your mind were Bleach and Ammonia, you obviously have never witnessed the combination of aging, slightly overweight food service professionals and a Karaoke Machine.

A Few of The Colonel's Friends Practice Their DDR Moves Sans-Pads

It was Brutal.

I'm not talking about the Off-Key, Out-of-Synch Butcherings of Islands in the Stream, I Got You Babe, or (shudder) The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia. Those were bad enough to sterilize cattle.

No. That's not the worst part.

I am talking about the Horror of The Colonel being finally talked into taking the stage, getting two notes into his song, and discovering that somewhere in the last six months he has completely lost the ability to sing.

We're talking a crash & burn that makes the Stone's Super Bowl Appearance sound like The Three Tenors.

Within seconds of starting the song, I knew it had been a HUGE mistake, and so did the audience. But I pressed on like a guy who didn't know where the exit was. (I didn't)

When I finished, the crickets weren't even chirping.

The Bleach & Ammonia are starting to look pretty good.

Waylaid in the Windy City

2006-12-04T18:57:00.000-08:00

Installment #2

We got the word that a shuttle bus was leaving for a great shopping mall at 6 pm.

"Hooray!", I thought, "Here's my chance to find The Ultimate Duffel Bag!"

That's how my traveling companions and I found ourselves at The Dumbest Mall in the World.

How dumb? We are in Chicago. It's 5 degrees below zero here. Lake Fred (Don't ask...) has already frozen over...

And this Mall is OUTSIDE.

It's not a strip mall, mind you. It's a full sized, "We've got a Macy's, a Nordstrom's, We've got escalators and everything" kind of mall. But it is also a "We've got no roof on our hallways," kind of mall.

You come walking out of The Disney Store and the wind just sort of whips you down to The Gap.

Here's an actual excerpt from their web site...

Oak Brook Center:
Located just 30 minutes from downtown Chicago, Oakbrook Center is one of the most prestigious and striking(1) outdoor shopping destinations in the Chicago area. In fact, it's the largest open-air premier shopping center in the country (2)! Always on the cutting edge of fashion(3), Oakbrook Center was voted the #1 shopping destination by Illinois shoppers(4). And no wonder. With six major department stores and over 160 upscale shops and restaurants set amidst lush gardens and flowing fountains(5) it's a spectacular(6) outdoor shopping experience.

(1.) Cold and Depressing
(2.) Think "Mall of America" conceived by Idiots.
(3.) Parkas & Steeger Mukluks
(4.) Bears Fans...See #2
(5.) Nope...Never seen 'em...covered in snow
(6.) Skull-Crunchingly Cold

Wasn't there someone, somewhere in the design phase of this thing who had the intelligence or courage to say, "Hey, wait a minute...This is Stupid!"?

On top of that, we simply couldn't find a Duffel Bag under $50.

We looked everywhere. We braved snow drifts, frozen earlobes and all those snotty AE teen workers who regard you like a special kind of toe fungus whenever you enter their store.

We finally found a nice "Land's End" model at Sears for $49. I justified the purchase by telling myself I could use it for Paintball Gear. (Or the Kids could take it on a choir trip, Dear...really.) Besides, I used my Sears card, so as long as I keep changing my address, I'll never have to pay for it.

After a while, the "Upscale" sales clerks began to grow weary of us running into their fancy stores just to stamp feeling back into our toes and shake icicles out of our noses. "Can I help you?" "No, just shivering..." Clearly, it was time to leave.

So we ate a Horrible Meal at Michael Scott's Favorite Pizza Place and grabbed the Shuttle back to the Lodge.

The 1st thing I did when we returned was cancel my Wednesday Night excursion to Downtown Chicago.

Rumor has it it's all outdoors.

Fear & Loathing in Chicago

2006-12-03T16:55:00.000-08:00

We were somewhere over Wisconsin, on the edge LaCrosse, when the Dramamine began to take hold...

No, unfortunately, I haven't read enough Hunter S. Thompson to do a proper send-up piece. So let's just scrap that idea right here and now.

Instead, I will attempt (yes, attempt) a feat never before conceived on the Band Blog. I will give a good old Hamburger University try at BLOGGING EACH DAY a little about the Colonel's trip to the windy city.

Installment #1:
It was somewhere around 3 am when The Blond woke me up...

"Do you want to take the minivan to the airport tomorrow? I don't think you can fit all your luggage and everyone else's into that little Vibe."

She was right, of course. I am a notorious Over-Packer. I think it has to do with the fact that I hate to leave home. To compensate, I try to bring as much "home" with me as I can whenever I travel.

Because of this, the Blond had watched me pack (I am not making this up) 15 shirts, 9 pairs of pants, too many socks to mention, my laptop, IPOD, IPOD docking station, Three pairs of shoes, camera, swimsuit, sandals, and one pair of underwear for a 5 day trip.

As a final act of lunacy, I tossed in a passport, just in case the plane veered into Soviet Airspace.

It was just too much for the limited luggage space of a hatchback.

So instead of doing the intelligent thing, (packing less) my Inner-Moron tm once again took over and decided everything would be resolved if I simply crammed all those contents into ONE GINORMOUS SUITCASE.

I had to enlist help from a couple of teamsters just to get it in the car. Upon arriving at the airport, I dutifully lugged it over to the baggage check-in. The guy behind the counter looked me over...

"Uh, sir...You have a bit of a weight problem there..."

"Hey! I work out almost once a week!"

"No sir, your bag. It's 10 pounds over the weight limit. Would you like to re-distribute it?"

"Redistribute it? Where?"

At this point, I had to weigh (npi) my options.
1. Take one of my sandals out of the suitcase and cram it in my laptop case. Yeah, that would help.
2. Ask someone on the same flight if they would "share" their luggage with me.
3. Bribe the Baggage Guy.

Actually, it wasn't a bribe. For an extra Jackson, he stuck an embarrassing tag on my monstrosity and let me slide through.

As I was leaving the counter, he let me know that I wouldn't have been overweight if I had just used two bags.

That had been my intention in the 1st place.

So now I have a quest. To prevent this hassle on the return trip, I will spend Wednesday evening in downtown Chicago in search of The Perfect Duffel Bag.

Hopefully, I will have a humorous post later in the week chronicling this upcoming quest.

That way I get my $20 worth.

The Meter Man Cometh

2006-11-22T13:08:00.000-08:00

Any dreams I had of sleeping in this morning were shattered by a distinctive ringtone indicating that the Blond was trying to call me.

She just left for work. What is this all about?

"Hey," she said, "I wanted to let you know I just saw the METER MAN lurking around the neighborhood."

Now, to most people this would not be a big deal. But we are not "most people". One of the Blond's biggest fears in this earthly life is that the meter man will stop by when we have a Messy Basement.

In this case, her fear was about to be realized.

The path to our steam meter was blocked by a small pyramid of discarded Pop Cases. The room with the water meter held MASSIVE evidence of our dog's incontinence. To make matters worse, the Blond had babysat her little niece & nephew the night before. (They love coming to our house because we are quite possibly the worst babysitters on the planet. We babysit basically in the same way we raise children & dogs; that is to say we let them do whatever they want, as long we can still hear the TV and no one calls the police.) Because of this, the Family Room floor was littered with LEGO's, empty pop cans, Beanie Babies, Doggie Bones, Coloring Books, and a half-bottle of "Franks RED HOT Original Cayenne Pepper Sauce". (Don't ask...)

"ARRRGH!" I said calmly into the phone, "Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

Leaping from the bed, I sprinted to the basement. Whisking LEGO's and stuffed animals into a plastic bag, I continued on to clear a path through Mt. Sodabox. After several "Dirty Dish Runs" up & down the stairs, I then tackled the dreaded "Poop Room".

When I could breathe again, I ran for the vacuum. Little Pirate Heads and Beanie Eyes disappeared into the dust bag forever. Vacuum screaming, I had just reached the top of the stairs when the outside door began to open right in front of me.

Busted...The Blond would not be pleased.

"Hi, Tom," I said casually, just before he came in.

"How did you know it was me?" the Meter Man asked.

Conclusion: We drink too much Soda Pop.

Things I Do Because I'm a Moron VII

2006-11-07T09:15:00.000-08:00

My son thoughtfully gave the Blond and me a couple of REALLY BUTT-KICKING, Industrial Coffee Mugs. (Not like my old one)

Seriously, they are great. They are well padded, virtually leak-proof, and even have a little clip so you don't have to juggle your coffee with your briefcase, groceries, or small non-ambulatory pets.

So I pour myself a cup this morning, and an unconcious part of my mind takes over.

"Hey," it says, without bothering to consult with the rest of my brain, "If you're going to clip this thing to your briefcase, you'd better test it to see if it REALLY is leak-proof."

Now keep in mind that I wasn't really THINKING about this. If I had checked in with the rational side of my cerebellum, I would have simply held the cofee-filled mug over the sink while tipping it over.

For some reason that I just don't understand, the evil, unconcious moron within me decided that the PROPER way to test the mug was to HOLD MY HAND UNDER IT.

I want to stress that there is nothing wrong with the mug. It's GREAT. It truly is leak-proof. That wasn't the problem.

The problem was that I had left the lid open.

Right now, I'm typing with one hand.

Auuugh! I've Become Andy Rooney

2006-11-06T17:20:00.000-08:00

col·lec·tion (k-lkshn)
NOUN:
1. The act or process of collecting.
2. A group of objects or works to be seen, studied, or kept together.
3. An accumulation; a deposit: a collection of dust on the piano.
4. A collecting of money, as in church, or the sum so collected.

col·lec·tor (k-lktr)
Noun:
1. One who collects things

OK, that being said...

Why do so many DVD's proudly proclaim that they are "Collector's Editions"?

We picked up "Nacho Libre" the other night.

There it was, right on the cover...

I checked our collection of 18,798 DVD's (Most of which directly funded a new swimming pool at the Skywalker Ranch...See Numerous "We are Nerds" Posts) and roughly HALF were labeled "Collector's Edition".

Now, am I to understand, that if they are not a "Collector's Edition", then my intent should have been not to "Collect" them, but to discard them immediately after viewing?

I asked my son this question, and he patiently explained, as one speaks to a small child or a doddering old man, that "Collector's Edition" means that there is another version out there that doesn't have all the "Special Features" and "Commentaries" and extra "Quotation Marks" included.

Wiping the drool from my mouth, and popping another Geritol, I asked him why then, do we never even see these regular, apparently "Disposable Editions"? The stores seem to just bypass that critical step and go right to selling the Collector Discs.

"I don't know," he said, "Look it up." Then he returned to his cave.

Well I for one, have had it. No more simple, regular one-disc, plain brown wrapper, no frills, Joe Friday DVD's for me. And no more fake, "we never put out the first disc, but we want you to think this one is special, so we'll write that across the cover" movies, either.

From now on, only legitimate "Collector's Editions" will gather on my shelf, like so much dust on the piano.

As for the rest of them...Into the Trash.

Starting with "Nacho Libre".

(Sorry Craig, that was a long way to go for such a cheap shot.)

(...but I warned you.)

P.S. I should also point out that if you blow off all the "Dust on the Piano" you could play "A Thin Spoon Duet"

She Spotted a Billboard for Denny's

2006-10-25T17:22:00.000-07:00

It's official...

The Blond has gone insane.

She woke the Colonel up this morning with the following statement:

"We didn't have vegetables yesterday. I feel the need for vegetables. I'm going to make Green Beans."

"You mean for lunch?" I asked.

I shouldn't be so naive.

As she sat there, enjoying her Morning Paper, Egg Whites, Toast, Salsa, & GREEN BEANS, I had two recurring thoughts...

1. Don't make any sudden moves.
2. Humor her...for pity's sake, HUMOR her.

That's why I can still tell my mom that I absolutely will not eat green beans for lunch.

I just have them at breakfast.

Minnesota Rhapsody

2006-10-23T16:42:00.000-07:00

Q. What if Freddy Mercury had been born & raised in Northern Minnesota, rather than his native England?

A. He would have gotten beat up a lot.

But in addition to that, can you imagine how irrevocably the history of Rock music may have been altered?

Check it out…

Ice fish a little put a crappie in a pan
Scare a moose scare a moose
Get you bitten by mosquito

Cheering for the Vikings
Very very frightening me

MINNESOTA! MINNESOTA!
MINNESOTA! MINNESOTA!
Minnesota buy a boat!

I’m just a Ranger nobody loves me
He’s just a Ranger from a poor family
Votes democrat with irrationality

Easy come Easy go
Will you shovel snow?
Huskvarna! No!
We will not shovel snow! Shovel Snow!
Huskvarna!
We will not shovel snow! Shovel Snow!
Huskvarna!
We will not shovel snow!
Will not shovel snow
Will not shovel snow
Will not shovel snow
No no no no no no no

Mama mia Mama mia Mama mia shovel snow

My Pickup Truck has a cooler full of beer
For me…
For me…
For ME!!!!!

(screaming guitar solo...)

When you think about it, this sort of thing does help to explain “Subterranean Homesick Blues”

Apparently, young Bobby Z. DID get beat up a lot….

Giving it 110%

2006-10-12T19:00:00.000-07:00

The Blond and I got to Vibe down to the dome for a Viking’s game.

It was a day that included, “Taking Care of the Football”, “Having to Settle for Three”, and of course, “Winning the Game in the Trenches”.

Much like they did back in to 1100’s, the Vikings emerged from a big, inflatable ship.

Brad Johnson and team try to “Punch it in from the Red Zone”.

Brad & Mewelde Moore both had a pretty crappy 1st half. The Blond and I hugged real close to cover up the names on our respective jerseys.

For some reason, these Flags made me feel happy.

After a 4th quarter touchdown, the scoreboard advertises Norwegian chewing tobacco.

The Vikings defense won the game.
Click here to see how excited the blond got…

P.S. There were also a lot of “Critical Third-Down Situations”…

What the Heck Were We THINKING?

2006-09-29T17:19:00.000-07:00

A look at some of the movies from our Netflix Queue. Though it is a somewhat eclectic mix, they all have the following things in common.

1. The Blond and I saw them when we were young and in love.
2. We remembered them fondly as pretty good films.
3. We told the sarcastic children how great they were.
4. They all bite.

Singing in the Rain
Sleeping on the Sofa… BORING

2001: A Space Odyssey / Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind
Over six hours, combined, of mind-numbing fascination with colored lights

Five Card Stud
I just remember Dean Martin being pretty cool. Apparently, that’s all my damaged cortex would allow me to remember. By the way…He wasn’t.

West Side Story
ONE great musical dance number does not make up for the other 3 horrible hours. ("When you're a Jet you're a Jet all the way...")

The Party
Peter Sellers & Blake Edwards made ONE great film together. This wasn’t one of them. Neither were five of the six Pink Panther films.

Bye-Bye Birdie
Bye-Bye Breakfast

School Photo Day...

2006-09-26T18:48:00.001-07:00

Aaaaaaand...Daddy has the ol' shotgun loaded & ready.

Office Party

2006-09-24T15:42:00.000-07:00

Here you go, Brooke...

Inspired by Little Penny, several people in desperate need of a real life gathered in our basement for the Premiere of a Favorite Show.

Pictured at the "Office" party are (left to right):
The Director; (as Roy)
Lil'Penny; (as Pam)
The Jilb; (as Jan)
Frotsgner; (kneeling, as Michael)
The Blond; (as Angela)
The Hermit; (behind, as Dwight)
The Colonel; (as Tobey)
Coffee Boy; (on floor, as Meredith's Rotten Kid)

Our celebration was really missing something, until the Main Character showed up. We were impressed.

The Girls Captured their Characters perfectly. This one will probably become my desktop.

This one probably won't, but The Hermit does make a good Dwight.

By the way, while The Blond Prepared the Food...
Pizza (The great ethnic equalizer), Coke (Jinx!), M&M's (Kevin Wins!), Jelly Beans (NO Black Ones), Sun Chips (French Onion), Ice Cream Cake (not Everyone is Lactose-intolerant), and (of course) Ham & Cheese Sandwiches

...Lil' Penny and The Hermit actually wore their costumes to Choir Practice.

We are Bad Parents, and we have raised Silly Children.

Ok, Apologies for these "Inside-joke", "Family" posts. Next time: A sincere attempt to return to the Colonel's Moronic Observations. (Probably about old movies)

"Dunder-Mifflin...This is Pam"

2006-09-17T15:42:00.000-07:00

Today, the Little Blond decided to dress up as one of her favorite TV characters when she went to church.

As the grown-up Blond and I watched her getting ready, we discussed how Cute & Funny she is.

We couldn't resist giving her some sage, parental-type advice...

"Little Blond," we said, "You're cute and funny. That makes you quite a catch. Make sure you hold out for a husband who's a Christian AND a Millionaire."

She looked at us and said, "Duh..."

Metapost: Contest Winner!

2006-09-17T15:13:00.000-07:00

No Surprise here…

Reinman has won the Star Wars Junk Contest

He came away with a Nerd-Whopping Score of 39 out of a possible 45.

I won’t bore the average (ie: NORMAL) reader with the details, but Reinman’s disturbingly entertaining, 3-page answer can be found Here

BTW, he wins an All-Expense-Paid Trip to see "Triple Espresso" in Minneapolis.

The only catch: He has to go with The Colonel, The Blond, Coffee Boy, The Whiner, The Hermit, and The Jilb. (Oh Wait…He LIKES the Jilb.)

Also, something bloggable has to happen on the trip in order to keep this Web Page Tax Deductable.

Ha-Ha, We're STILL Nerds

2006-09-12T17:23:00.000-07:00

...and that's only about 10% of the Junk.

OK, the purpose of this post is..

1. To keep Blogger from dropping this page due to inactivity.
2. To make the not-so-subtle point that we actually went out (See lower right row of DVD's) and bought the Original Theatrical Releases.
3. To avoid the discomfort of trying to re-enter the Blogging World with a Really Funny Post by instead introducing a Really Stupid Contest.

Here it is...

How many Items in the above Pic can you Identify?
Click on it. Zoom in. Push those Taped-up Glasses back on your nose, get that Spiderman pen out of your pocket protector and get to it.

The Winner will receive a Semi-Fabulous Prize....

Verbing the Vibe

2006-07-26T08:08:00.000-07:00

Dumb Stuff the Blond & I talk about in the morning...

I'm actually a bit of a hypocrite when it comes to "Verbing".

The family has been having a lot of fun using this particular assault on the English language when referring to our latest little form of transportation.

"Let's Vibe over to the grocery store."

"How about we Vibe up to McCarthy Beach for the afternoon?"

"What do you say, shall we Vibe on over to the Hampton's for some Tea and Backgammon?"

This train of thought led to a recollection: Growing up, I used to really hate it when people would Verb the word, "Ski-Do". They would say, "Hey! Let's go "Ski-Do-ing" this Saturday!"

I always wanted to scream, "It's NOT SKI-DOING! It's Riding a Snowmobile!"

But then, we had to conclude that it wasn't so much the Verbing that bothered me. It was the Genericizing (tm) of a Brand Name. For some, the Brand "Ski-Do" had replaced the term "Snowmobile" for any winter conveyance, no matter what make or model.

Being "Scorpion" drivers, this really offended my siblings and me.

Yet (Here comes the hypocrisy...) it didn't bother me in the least to constantly refer to ANY Facial Tissue as a "Kleenex".

I would never say, "Hey, would you hand me a Facial Tissue?" or "Excuse me, my nose is running. May I please have a Puff?"

The reason I would never say those things is because, growing up, I would NEVER blow my nose.

Really...

I would always just suck it all back in. By the time I became an adult, I believe I had accumulated about five gallons of cold-related phlegm in my skull, which goes a long way in explaining this Blog.

The Blond told me that she didn't think ANY kids blew their noses.

Rather than go to work, we pondered this over a couple more mugs of Coffee.

Why do kids Hate to blow their noses? We believe it is because our Mothers turn it into such a Horrible Experience.

Think about it. You are five years old. Your nose is running. Your Mom comes up to you with a Kleenex (tm), presses it to your face and says, "Here...Blow."

At this point, one of two things happens.

She either holds the tissue so loosely that as you blow, the snot misses it completely and runs right into you mouth...

or..

She clamps it down on your nose so tightly that when you do blow, your head explodes.

Somehow, I don't think Phlegm was ever intended to be blown out of our ears.

I'm glad that my mom can't Kleenex me anymore.

Because Verbing Weirds Language.