Many many years ago, pre-blog, when the Fishwrap was just a weekly mailing list, I had a little random feature that I called “Email Clip of the Day” where I included a clip from something in my inbox. The following cracked me up so I feel a need to ressurect the feature.

“Not sure if you have the BRAVO channel, but last night was the gala Homo-fest. Two episodes of ‘Too Many Queers and One Poor Straight Bastard Whose Friends Sold Him Down the River’, split by the premier episode for ‘Boy Meets Boy’. Yes… a new reality show (like the world needs another), where they take some desperate homo and introduce him to a group of West Hollywood wannabe’s. Where is the game, you ask? Some idiot decided to intermingle ’straight’ men into the group of possible suitors. How fucked up is that? Great entertainment… at least the Romans injured the poor bastard before they sent in the lions.”

Eye Candy
Make them stop! Great optical illusion that made me want to go lie down for a bit.

Animated Stereo Images. Clever.

Making over Mona. Botox and Collagen injections. See how far she’ll go for beauty.

Groovy little flash site Uncontrol

Fun and Games
Kind of like Breakout but with circus freaks. How many Flying Freaks can you keep in the air?

Just like grade school, but not as painful. Slaps. Make sure you practice first or you’ll get your ass kicked.

A bunch of fun games from the good folks at Kellogs

Miscellaneous Weirdness:
SARS Mmm… Can I get a six-pack to go?

Urinals from around the world.

In Other News:
The missus and I were awakened at about 5:00 this morning by the most unusual noise. We couldn’t figure out what it was. Like water dripping or actually like a LOT of water dripping. Uh oh… Wait… Could it be? No! I think it might be… No way! Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s… Holy Shit! It’s raining!

Pouring to be exact. In July. In the desert. And I just had the Jeep washed on Monday. As absurd as it seemed at the time, I asked for a rain check. Lo and behold, it sprinkled that night. 5 drops maybe at best, but I thought why the hell not. So I cashed in my rain check yesterday. And this morning it pours. Too bad I can’t get a rain check on a rain check.

The first day we were all at the lake I was hanging on the dock tossing out a line in a vain attempt to catch something… a Perch, anything. Sure, I could have gone up to the garage and retrieved the minnow trap, that’s good bait right there. But actually, just casting was relaxing enough.

I turned around for no reason to discover my sister in-law Lisa kneeling on the beach pushing sand around. Scratching my head I thought, Okay, so this is her first trip to the lake and maybe playing with decaying crayfish and other unidentifiable dead lake creatures is her idea of fun. Certainly not ours… but hey, who am I to judge?

Turns out she had fallen off the dock and twisted her ankle. Thoroughly embarrassed, she was trying to cover up her clumsiness by pretending to make a sand castle while praying that the mind splitting pain would go away. I went to her aid and suggested icing it (as I recall, ice only works in the first 24 hours) but tough broad that she is, she refused. Sho’nuf, her ankle swelled up something fierce. It didn’t look good. No skiing, no tubing, no anything really. First Day at the Lake Bum-ah! But hey.. we’ve got a spotter!

So a few nights later, us kids (yeah well, we’re not kids anymore - we are now officially “the middle generation” … the kids had been put to bed) are all sitting around the picnic table getting drunk, being way too loud and having a rip snortin’ time. Everyone else has switched to wine or beer except me. Me and my trusty Vitamin V.

The missus brings me a fresh Vodka when my sister Bry asks her where she got the ice (unbeknownst to me, I guess we had run out of ice earlier in the evening). To which my lovely wife replies “That Ziplock bag in the freezer… why?”

Though the tears of drunken laughter, I learn that at some point my sister was able to convince Lisa to ice her ankle but in a trademark clever move to preserve what little ice we had left (the closest store is 5 miles to town), she had used the old nasty skanky ice trays that possessed a distinct musty dusty moldy smell and haven’t been touched in years. And that Ziplock bag in the freezer was full of it.

Skankle Ice. In my cocktail. And probably several cocktails before it, as I was the only one using ice and I don’t ever really remember running “out” of it, but then I don’t remember many intricate details of that particular evening.

The Missus, in a fit of disgust, grabs my cocktail and quickly tosses it over her shoulder. I, in turn, find this a gross waste of perfectly good vodka and without a word proceed to toss her glass of white wine (sans ice) over my shoulder.

Me: “If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to fix another drink. Can I get anyone anything?”

There was a resounding “No!”

Pussies.

There’s nothing like leaving a 50 year old house to fend for itself for almost 3 weeks in the blazing desert heat. The toilet valve broke, the air conditioning is leaking. The lawn (I’m not even sure I can call it that at the moment) has turned into a meadow. My car has a flat tire. There is an inch of dirt (or, a protective layer as I like to call it) on everything out-of-doors. The cats pissed, oh, just about everywhere but it’s too damn hot to open the place up and air it out. I am sure there are many other joys to be discovered as the day progresses.

Oh yeah, and Bob Hope died. I’m sure this town will go into a collective state of mourning as soon as word spreads.

Great quote: A good friend will come and bail you out of jail. But a true friend will be sitting next to you saying, “Damn… that was fun!” via staz

The Alien has returned to its home planet.

In other news:

Today will be spent catching up on phone calls, mail, bills, and a trip to the vet.

We hired a pet sitter to take care of the house and feed our cats while we were away. Unfortunately, this was not an ideal situation for the kittens. The lack of human interaction is not a good thing at that age and they tend to go a little anti-social on ya. Out of desperation, I started calling rescue facilities to find a foster home for them. The day before we were scheduled to leave, Pet Rescue called me back with the name and number of a woman who might be willing to help.

It seemed perfect; nice friendly family with kids, a small cat friendly dog and another cat. Lots of social interaction and new things for the kittens to experience.

But it appears that this family had gotten way in over their heads and the kittens were just about too much to deal with. She couldn’t wait to be rid of them and they both are pretty sick with colds. I don’t fault the woman who stepped up to the plate for us. I don’t think she had any idea what she was getting into and was simply trying to do the right thing. But it’s a bummer. Now we have to care for them until they are both in good health again and that in turn, stalls the adoption efforts.

Overall, I think they were better off with staying with this family than being cooped up in the house here with a once a day visit from the pet sitter. But nursing two sick kittens is one more thing that I really didn’t need to have to deal with today. As I mentioned yesterday, I’m pretty low in the TLC giving department.

On the bright side, they’re just kittens. At least I’m not still being subjected to the constant “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” brand of cruel and unusual psychological warfare. Thank god for the 7 day waiting period.

After having spent the last 18 days with more kids than I thought actually existed in the world (off the top of my head I just ran through the names of 21 of them and I’m sure I’m leaving a few out), Auntie Em here is pooped. Wiped. Dead on my friggin feet.

Any maternal bone I might have possessed has been cut out of me with a hot knife. I’m happy to stick to the Auntie-ing thankyew very much…

It was incredible to see everyone together again. I can’t even attempt to condense 20 days of kids, partying, family, sun and fun into a single entry, but here’s a little slideshow (Quicktime 4.6MB) I put together on the flight home today.

I had a blast, but damn, it’s good to be home.

Hey! It’s Friday… and ooh, lookie there… I gotta bite.

Smooch!! Love ya baby! See you on Sunday. The rest of you, well I’m alive and well but you’re just gonna have to wait a few more days…

cat·er·waul (k tr-wôl )
intr.v. cat·er·wauled, cat·er·waul·ing, cat·er·wauls
To cry or screech like a cat in heat.
To make a shrill, discordant sound.
To have a noisy argument.

n.
A shrill, discordant sound.

Whilst surfing tonight, I stumbled upon Caterwauling (via Erica) which I mistook for Caterwaul of My Mind long linked by my buddy the O-double D (yeah that’s what I’m calling you now). They are very different places. Both interesting, but um, different.

That’s it really - I have to go pack now for yet another trip to hot humid sweaty places. If I’m not around much the next couple of weeks it’s because I’m either here enjoying a funnel cake or I’m here fishing on the Inland Waterway. I’ll try and update during my travels but who the hell knows…

It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s gonna come down, it’s just a matter of when… The Alien in My Neighbors Yard has been updated for those of you tracking its progress.

Even if it sounds really cool at the time, don’t combine what are normally, intelligent grown men and women, copious amounts of alcohol, incendiary devices and glass. No good can come of it.

“Warning: Requires Adult Supervision.”
They really should qualify that statement.