Making Flippy Floppy

I'm already in the mood for Halloween. I think it's partially due to the fact that in my unemployment, I discovered recently that at 2pm on TV Land is The Munsters followed by The Aadams Family. I've never been too into the dry Aadams bunch, but I'd forgotten how much I loved those kooky Munsters. Yvonne De Carlo as Lilian was the original goth chick and poor Marilyn, the "normal" cousin is pitied by the rest of the family for being so ugly. The plots might not always be deep, but the writing is witty and the characters are loveable.

Some interesting Munsters trivia from Wikipedia: Lily was not in the original pilot episode of The Munsters. Instead, Herman is married to a much more gothic-looking wife named Phoebe, played by Joan Marshall. The producers scrapped the Phoebe character after deciding she seemed almost an exact double of the Morticia Addams character on The Addams Family. Lily appeared in the second pilot and all other episodes. For the role, Yvonne de Carlo had to wear a wig that weighed 20 pounds (9kg). Fred Gwynne (Herman) wore so much padding and so many layers of clothes that despite drinking gallons of lemonade and taking salt tablets between takes and using an air hose between his neck and costume, he sweated so much that he continuously lost weight, becoming dangerously thin. Portrayed by Al Lewis, Grampa's given name is said to be Sam Dracula. Lewis ran as Green Party candidate for Governor of New York in 1998. In that race he sought to be listed on the ballot as “Grandpa Al Lewis”, arguing that he was most widely known by that name. His request was rejected by the Board of Elections, a decision upheld in court against his challenge. Despite this setback, he achieved one of his campaign objectives. His total of 52,533 votes exceeded the threshold of votes set by New York law (50,000), and hence guaranteed the Green Party of New York an automatic ballot line for the next four years. He said that, with “no [political] machine and no money” backing him, the likelihood of winning the governorship would be “like climbing Mount Everest barefooted”. Marilyn was originally played by Beverley Owen who was 30 years old at the time. She was meant to be a copy of Marilyn Monroe (similar in name to Marilyn Munster) and had to wear a blonde wig for the part. According to Al Lewis in a 2001 interview with Pittsburgh radio's Doug Hoerth, Owen was having relationship problems in that she missed her boyfriend who was 3,000 miles away (from Los Angeles) in New York City. After Lewis and Fred Gwynne petitioned the studio, the actress was let go. The role was taken over in episode 14 by Pat Priest after Owen left to marry Jon Stone. Pat Priest looked enough like Beverley Owen that many never even noticed that the role was played by another actress. It also helped the studio in that she was Owen's size and so fit into her wardrobe.

In the spring of 2001, Sandra and Charles McKee of Waxahachie, Texas began construction of a fully livable recreation of the Munster home, inside and out. With initial construction completed in 2002, cast alumni Al Lewis and Butch Patrick appeared at the public grand opening. Lewis exclaimed, with tears in his eyes, "This brings back warm memories." The house comes equipped with a grand staircase (which opens up to reveal Spot), a rotating suit of armor, trap doors, secret passages, Grandpa's electric chair, a pipe organ, raven cuckoo clock, a crooked bat weather vane on the roof and even a dungeon complete with trap door. Since then, the McKees have opened their private home to the public for two nights each year on the weekend of Halloween. Since the death of Lewis, Pat Priest has returned to appear multiple times. The Munster Mansion Halloween Bash each year selects a local charity and donates all proceeds from the event.

Their pets:

• Spot - A fire-breathing dragon living under the staircase. Though never fully appearing on camera, his eyes could be seen glowing in the darkness beneath as a hinged section of the stair steps swung open by tilting backward one of the bannister newels. He eats metal and just about anything else and a tail view of him shows him as a large dinosaur.
• Igor - A bat who lives in Grandpa's lab and assists with his work.
• Kittycat - An average-sized black cat who roars like a lion.
• Charlie - A talking raven who lives in the cuckoo clock in the living room, who often says "Nevermore" in reference to "The Raven" poem (usually voiced by Mel Blanc, but sometimes voiced by Bob Hastings).
• Goldfish - They devour food like ravenous piranhas.
• Elmer - A snake that lived beneath the garbage bin in the backyard.

The inevitable reunion special (video below): The Munsters' Revenge (1981), a made-for-TV movie. The owner of a museum with a Munsters exhibit makes robots of Herman and Grandpa and uses them to rob a bank. Gwynne, De Carlo, and Lewis recreated their roles, but Eddie and Marilyn were played by K.C. Martel and Jo McDonnell respectively.

Labels: Munsters, Random Thoughts, Retro Fun, TV, Videos

I've never been much of hat person. I dunno, maybe it's just the shape of my head, but most of them usually look silly on me. In high school, I wouldn't have been caught dead in a baseball cap - too jock, too ordinary Everyday Joe. I always thought hats were so dorky. I had to be different. I have owned the occasional black felt golf-style cap worn backwards - a look I could pretty much get away with. Those hats always seem get left behind on some cafe table or pilfered by friends wanting to just "borrow" it. Last winter, I found a nice cozy grey and black wool hat and amazingly, it looked okay on me AND it was a baseball-style cap. Yes, it took me until age 35 to find a baseball cap I actually liked. Recently, my friend Mark gave me two baseball caps. He works down on the lake near Harrison at Hutton's General Store, which is owned by those evil but oh so loveable Gozzer Ranch millionaires who come to town to trample our flowers and create bizarre traffic snarls in their shiny white SUV's. Glamorous? Slightly. Rude? For Sure. Many people find these Gozzer folks detestable. Anyway, Hutton's General Store sells hats with their logo along with hats shamelessly emblazoned with the Gozzer Ranch logo. One night I ran into Mark, and he was wearing one of these priceless gems, and I had to harass him about it. Poor Mark has to deal with the Gozzer Geezers day in and day out, but he tells me he's gotten pretty good at plastering a fake smile on his face. I love that certain kind of sarcastic irony that comes into play when you wear something representing an idea or concept you really can't stand. It'd be like wearing a shirt with the Hagadone Corporation logo. It'd be kind of funny. So Mark gave me the Gozzer Hat, but for now it's just going to hang on the wall - I'd actually fear for my life wearing it out too much in this town, but at least it's an amusing conversation piece. I think Mark knew I wouldn't actually wear it because a couple of days ago he brought me a Hutton's General Store logo cap, and I love it! I actually think the logo is well-designed and attractive, kelly green is one of my favorite colors, plus I can get in my reverse anti-Gozzer trip without being harassed by haters who don't get the joke. And, to my amazement it actually looks pretty okay on my big head. Finally, now I'm stuck on hats. Thanks, Mark!

Labels: Hats, Random Thoughts

News Flash: One of the last bastions of old-school Coeur d'Alene is soon to be no more. The cashier at Sherman IGA told me this morning that they are no longer going to be an IGA. They are going fully independent and are renaming the store "Peterson Family Foods." A modernization and redecoration is in the works. I suppose this is a good thing, but it has been an IGA since the dawn of time, and it will be a little disturbing when the signs come down. As long as the Chester Fried chicken remains intact it'll be OK, I suppose... When I was growing up, my grandmother lived directly behind the store , which was "Spencer's IGA" at the time, I do believe. I spent a lot of time there, annoying cashiers, buying 5 cent candy and getting mucky little fingerprints all over fresh comic books. One of my first memories (I must have been 4...5...6..?) is unintentionally walking out with an unpaid-for pack of gum in my hand, and my mother discovering it and freaking out! Boy, I was in trouble. It was my first lesson about stealing, and she made me march back in that store, tell them what I did, and pay for the gum. I've never even thought about pocketing gum since. Even back then, IGA seemed pretty run down. I have a polaroid snapshot of myself when I was about 4 sitting in some kind of funny-car parked in front of IGA, flanked by two men wearing extremely ghetto big bird and cookie monster costumes. The moment is gone from my actual memory, but the look on my face in the photo says it all: WTF? Who are these wannabes? And that is the appeal of the IGA in a nutshell. It was never a big-shot deal like Albertsons or Safeway. The selection is rather minimal, the prices aren't great, there's no "club cards" or 10 for 10 sales. However, they have basically what you need, and you can get in and out fast with a minimum of drama. Basically it's like a quickie-mart that wants to be a big-box grocery. I'm actually glad to hear they're going fully indie. I think the IGA brand name was starting to bring them down. The place is way past due for a facelift, and I think it will be nice to see what they do with the remodel. The cashier who broke the news to me this morning was also excited to reveal that they were now going to be carrying the full line of "Western Family" products. Ooh, la la! I do think the name "Peterson Family Foods" is maybe a little wordy - it just doesn't roll off the tongue like "IGA" does. I guess we can call it "Peterson's" for short. Or "Pete's." "Honey, I'm going to Pete's for some cheese." In reality, they could paint the place black and silver, hang disco balls and name it "Studio 55", but to me it will always be IGA, and that's how I'll continue to refer to it.

Labels: Food, IGA, Memorial, Random Thoughts, Retro Fun

Post Graduation Angst It feels a little depressing and quite strange to realize that I'm totally done with taking classes. I thought I had a Geology final tomorrow but it turns out I don't need to take it. If I did, it would only change my final grade from a B- to a B, and I can live with a B-. So then, I'm done. After basically 15 years of having college on the brain in one form or another (especially the last 4 years), I have to start looking for other things to fill that space in my life. A part of me is a little sad that I have no more classes to tackle. I honestly think I am addicted to learning. I want to sign up for some of those "personal enrichment" classes that NIC offers, just so I can keep learning. I feel like I'm dead if I'm not learning something new, moving forward. Of course, in my chosen field of Web Design, the technology is always changing and you have to always learn new things to stay on top of the game. That's all well and good, but what I'm going to miss are the extra, unrelated things like learning Geology or Art History. Since I'm a big reader, naturally I will continue to pursue knowledge in different subjects, but it's not quite the same. There's something so satisfying about working hard and seeing that final grade at the end of the semester, earning those credits. I am thinking about going back in 2-4 years perhaps to focus more on writing (English? Journalism?) I already have enough credits stocked up that it wouldn't take me very long to do. Alas, I already owe a fortune in loans and I shouldn't really add more to the pile. In the words of the band Asia, only time will tell.

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Music Notes: Today My Heart Swings First off, I have a real "thing" for the new single by Interpol, "The Heinrich Maneuver." Such a strong return for these New York boys, who were criticized early on for being too derivative of '80's post-punk but manage to shake off the lazy Joy Division comparisons by arriving at a sound that the band has made purely their own. "Heinrich" is fresh with propulsive rhythm and soaring guitar, the lyrics oblique enough to be interesting, whilst Paul Banks' voice cracks with raw detachment. Near the end, when the song roars to a sudden halt only to fire back up again full speed ahead, I get chills everytime. I've got my gizzy in a twirl waiting for the whole album. Before I'd ever really heard of Feist I read something about her living with my fave electro-tramp Peaches back in the day when they first started out. So a few years back, when I saw a video for her track "Mushaboom" I wasn't overly jazzed - it was nice, but I was expecting something more electro-dancey. It didn't stick, basically. So when her latest album the Reminder hit my download service, I didn't react. Then I started reading praise for it left and right, so I became curious and was delighted upon first listen. Wonderfully, it gets better with each listen, more colors emerge each time through. Her musical palette is broad, from the high gloss and hectic handclaps of "Sealion Woman" to the awkward pop of "1-2-3-4" and many more chill moments between, Feist's melodies are earworms of the finest caliber. Her voice is alternately crackly and plainspoken, her singing style varied but singular. The Reminder is an album that completes and compliments any particular moodswing. Was there ever a more fitting song title than "Icky Thump", the new single from the ever-brilliant White Stripes? Those words collide together in exact description of the dull thud of Meg's drums and the ooey-gooiness of Jack White's boiling, Zepplin-y guitar moves. This audio mud pie slowly melts with the addition of some sick and sticky Moog synth riffs lifted straight from some obscure prog confection from 1974. Like baked Alaska, Jack's frantic rant sets the song aflame, a few sly anti-war metaphors lend it some political currency. This shit is bananas Foster.

Labels: Graduation, Music Reviews, Random Thoughts

I don't feel like dancing, no sir, no dancing today. One thing I really hate is when I'm at my local pub, relaxing after a long day of tourists and assorted bedlam, enjoying a refreshing little bevvy, and some drunk lady starts insisting that I hit the dancefloor immediately and dance with her. It happens to me all the time for some reason. "Ohhhhh, commmme ooooon! Just come on and dance! You have to! Come on!" and I'm like "Uh...no." And usually she's physically pulling me, pulling my elbow out of it's socket and attempting to literally drag me kicking and screaming into boogie wonderland. And I never do it. It's not that I don't enjoy dancing now and then, I've got a pretty good sense of rhythm. I spent many nights in my teens and early 20's on the dancefloors of various clubs and raves, under the influence of various hallucinogens. I had a blast. However, back then the DJ's would play music that actually made me want to dance: New Order, Depeche Mode, Nitzer Ebb. Now most of what the DJs play, at least at my local pub, is nothing but crapola Hip-Hop and bad remakes of '80's hits. I can't dance to that shite. Sorry, I wouldn't want to even be seen attempting to dance to the latest Akon or Ying Yang Twins turd. Anyway, I'd rather tend to my bevvy and cig and people watch than waste my precious energy flailing about. Don't take it personal, drunk lady. I especially hate when, because I won't come dance, the drunk ladies assume I think I can't dance, or that I'm shy and have self-esteem issues. "Ohhhh, coooommme oooon, no-one's gonna make fun of you..." and I'm like "they will if they see me dancing to Nelly with your drunk ass." I've had to lose my temper at them before and tell them to basically fuck off and get away, they just won't accept the word "no." When they finally get it, nine times out of ten I suddenly become the Purse Watcher. "OK, well, if you're not gonna dance then here, watch my purse" and they could be gone for hours. I've had two or three purses at a time before. Unlike some of my less respectful associates, I've always resisted digging through them, unless I'm desperate for a ciggarette, which i consider my "purse sitting fee." Three Dimensions of Reality Yesterday in Geology lab, Mr. Teacher (yes, the semester is almost over and I still can't remember his name) let us play with these incredibly cool books that showed contour maps of Idaho in 3D. I love 3D things: I must find a copy. Here's Melanie and I participating in the fun. We're so easily amused. Chicken Fried Love I've gone into Sherman IGA a couple of times now since my Get Out column reviewing their deli appeared in print. I was a bit scared to return, fearing that they'd get bent out of shape about some of the more, um, colorful (sarcastic?) things I wrote about their store and it's clientèle. One of the cashiers there happens to live a few doors down from a friend i was visiting, and she recognized me and told me that they'd all just loved the article so much, and that there was a free juicy, Chester Fried chicken breast waiting for me when I returned. Still, I was nervous. So I slipped in early one morning, hoping to sneak in unnoticed and grab some cat food, milk, and of course, red deli jello in pink sugar foam. I made it almost through the check out when Nancy the cashier, who I've talked to a zillion times, looked at me with new eyes: "Are you the one that wrote that article?!?" She told me that the store owner liked the article so much he made photocopies for every employee. Turns out, that Saturday night after the article ran, there were people lining up for some Chester Fried and they ended up selling out and restocking the fried chicken a record six times. Busier than the 4th of July, she told me. Soon, every employee on duty was hovering around telling me how funny they thought the article was: "I've never read anything like that...what a perfect description of our store." I'm not so sure they'd be showing me with such praise if they'd read the original, way nastier pre-edit version. Just goes to prove the any press is good press, I suppose.

Labels: 3D, Drunk Lady, Food, IGA, Mik-n-Mac's, Random Thoughts

Despite the recent April blizzards, lately I've got a bit of Spring Cleaning Fever . The urge to purge clutter. It's so nice to fling open doors and windows and let the mustiness of winter fly away, replaced by crispy new air. Re-fluff the cushions, chase the cobwebs, organize the bookshelves and spice racks. I'm realizing now it must have been a few springs since the mood last struck because I have been unearthing some noteworthy things from the back of various closets, cupboards and junk drawers. I've lived in the same house for nearly five years now, and like the geological rock cycle, things that were once buried deep and forgotten will inevitably one day surface anew. So far, one of the highlights was a vintage pin of Duran Duran keyboardist Nick Rhodes in his full Seven and the Ragged Tiger era glory, wearing more makeup than Sheena Easton and looking twice as hot. This was at the bottom of a box of old magazines - magazines, magazines, magazines -they pour out of every box, every shelf, every crevice of my home. Why do I save them? I went through all my hundreds of them and kept only the ones I thought might someday be collectible, like if Madonna's on the cover. The rest are going up the flue of the wood stove tonight - it's supposed to be a chilly one! Buried back in the forbidden zone that is the cupboard under the kitchen sink I found the "magic" fish tank scrubber wand with the blue handle that had been missing for at least two years - I refused to buy another one, knowing it would turn up someday. It's not the type of thing people normally tend to steal. It is magic, too - any other scrubber just doesn't quite get the algae off as good. Outside next to the house, I found an old 5 gallon bucket and thinking it was full of water, I dumped it and ten million hot pink and purple aquarium rocks cascaded across my yard. It's quite an unusual landscaping treatment, really, but more than a little impractical. Not going to be a fun cleanup, either. The spare room closet coughed up the best goodies, including a Dolly Parton poster, a whole box of blank notebooks and sketch pads and various paper, a pair of combat boots. Also came across a scruffy looking duffle bag with my ex's childhood teddy bear, personal poetry, and family photos. Seems like an odd thing to leave behind - makes me think it was left on purpose for safe keeping or perhaps to create an excuse to get in touch again. I had no idea it was even there. I came across the "trailer trash old lady" costume (including enormous fake breasts) that I wore a few Halloweens ago that won me first place (I think it was $500!) in the costume contest at the bar - the only time I ever "did drag." The spring cleaning find with the most potential has to be the big brown bag of gay porn. Three or so years ago, Kami Jo was working a day shift tending bar at Mik-n-Mac's and took a bag of trash out to the dumpster and sitting atop the trash bin was a brown paper bag. She peered in to find a stash of man-on-man XXX videos. Someone had to get rid of their gay porn collection pronto and thought the Mik-n-Mac's garbage was the perfect place to drop it off. So being the thoughtful gal she is, Kami rescued the bag, put a bow on it and gave it to me and my ex next time we came in as a "gag gift." These videos were vintage 1992 and we had a blast making fun of the video boxes, with all the bad hair and corny porn star names. Even if we had wanted to actually watch the vids, we couldn't since we had already purged the old VCR in favor of a DVD player. So the brown bag of fun somehow ended up buried in the back of the spare room closet, completely forgotten until now. What does one do with a stack of unwanted gay porn? I certainly have some fun ideas. I could put them in my yard sale, just casually display them out on a sunny table just to see the reaction of the old ladies and uptight republicans that happen to wander through. Or even better, drop a few off at some stranger's yard sale when they aren't looking, then go back to the car and watch the chaos unfold. Maybe slip a few onto the video shelf at the public library. Toss them in open car windows on a Sunday in the parking lot of the Mormon Church. Can you imagine the delicious uproar? Should I put them outside the night drop at the Women's Shelter Thrift Store? Maybe I'll take them in to googly-eyed Jon at Hastings and see if I can trade them in for store credit. Maybe there's a collectors market for vintage 90's gay porn and the contents of the brown bag is worth hundreds of dollars on Ebay. Despite all these delightfully tasteless options, they'll most likely end up with all the other crap in the back of my truck, headed to the dump.

Labels: Cleaning, Gay Porn, Googly-eyes, Nick Rhodes, Random Thoughts

Where were you, my pretties? So I played Open Mike night down at the good 'ol Lickin' Snatch last night and none of my home girls and boys showed up. What's up y'all? I even tried to bribe you with drinks! Unless you live in a far away place (that's about three of you), you're in trouble! Actually, there was a bit more of an audience than the week before, but the crowd was kind of a rough one: Tessa's little brother and all his rowdy jock friends. They came mostly to see Mark play, but they got my fey electro-pop as a bonus and I could tell it wasn't really their cup of Coors Light. They were polite and applauded, but all I got afterward was glares. Actually, my throat was sorta raw anyway, I was a bit lethargic and it wasn't my best performance so maybe I should be glad everyone who said they'd be there flaked out. So here's the deal: I'm taking next week off from it, but the week after that, on Monday April 9, I will definitely be there doing the Orange Television thing and since that's 2 days before my birthday, I think I'll make it an occasion, do invitations, basically force people to come watch me moan over synthesized beats and bloops. So mark your calendars, kids. The best thing would be for you to bring your own talent and get into it and perform something, eh? Hope to see you there. Again: My Birthday, Mik-n-Mac's, April 9, 7 PM. My London London Bridge Wanna Go Down Lately I've developed an odd fetish for Stacy London, the fabulously arch co-host of TLC's addictive "What Not to Wear." I admire her classic passive aggressiveness - she can be outright mean to her make-over victims, but she does it in such a way that they just smile and giggle. She's is ultra-sarcastic and rotten but somehow delightfully charming at the same time, a trait I've been perfecting all my life as well. She reminds me a bit of Samantha's naughty cousin Serena on Bewitched - when watching "What Not To Wear" sometimes I half expect her to sigh, roll her eyes, then wiggle her nose and a perfect new outfit would magically appear on the guest. Her chemistry with co-host Clinton Kelly adds to the distinct watchability of the program, together they make a merciless team, tearing through ugly-ass wardrobes like paper shredders and replacing them with tasteful, modern apparel. The most entertainingly vacuous TV available, and when they have one of their "What Not to Wear Marathons", you can count me out of society and find me on the couch eating Fritos, glassy-eyed. So I was thrilled this week when it was revealed that the powers that be at TLC gave Miss London her very own weekly prime time talk show called "Shut Up! It's Stacy London." If you've seen her in action, you'll know what a perfect name that is for her show ("OH! SHUT! UP!" is her typical excited response when she sees the guest in their made-over state for the first time.) The ads show her chatting and catting it up with huge megastars (not) like Lisa Rinna and Jane Krakowski, but I think as people catch on to her mega-coolness, she'll start getting some bigger names. The show debuts Friday 4/6 at 10PM. The Poor Old Frog Needs a Little Help My 17 year-old godson Nikolas is in town from Seattle, and yesterday he wanted to take me out to lunch at Senor Froggy's downtown. Seems he'd had a constant craving for the Frog for the entire five years since he's been there, and he was clamoring for a fix. He told me that he viewed Senor Froggy as a Coeur d'Alene institution along the lines of Hudson's Hamburgers, a do-not-miss place you must visit when in town. I've always been a big fan of the place up until about the last year or so. I think new owners must have taken the place over around that time, and the quality of the food and service started visibly slipping. Everything here was always very consistent and professional, but the last few times I've dined there have been less-than-remarkable. For instance, one Wednesday it occurred to me that it was "Taco Wednesday" where you get three hard or soft shell tacos for a reasonable price - it's a special the place has run every Wednesday since the beginning of time. So, I went in to order my three tacos and was told that they had canceled the special that day because there was a parade downtown earlier. Not seeing the logic right away, I questioned further and the girl rolled her eyes like I was taking away from her valuable doing nothing time and said "I dunno, just too busy I guess." I was stunned, still not quite sure what she meant, but went ahead and ordered a crisp meat burrito to go. When I got it home it was undercooked and nearly inedible. One time I went in and was way put off by the man behind the counter (who I think may be the owner) who was overly friendly to me, to the point of coming across as totally phony and patronizing, something I just can't stand. "Hey buddy! What can I get ya Big Guy? Alright, pal! Do you want sour cream with that, my friend?" Uh...don't fake like I'm your dearest companion just because I'm ordering your greasy food. And that's been another problem with the place lately. Yes, it was always greasy, but now it seems like everything is just dripping with hot translucent brown oil, from the taco meat to the mexi tots, even the chips seem greasy! Kudos to them, however, for keeping Raspberry New York Seltzer on tap all these years - I don't even think you can get it anywhere else at this point. Yesterday, Nikolas and I watched in amazement as a new hire (not even attractive) bumbled his way through our order. It was like he was looking at a cash register for the first time in his life. Meanwhile, his co-worker stood there behind the counter endlessly talking to a buddy on his cell phone about the wild party night he'd had and "Duuuuuude...I'm on, like, a half-hour of sleep..." We would order something and the new hire would frantically scan the register before saying "Kyle! Kyle! How do I put in a small mexi-tots?" and the other guy would come over acting all put out that his conversation was being interrupted. "(Sigh) Here, you just push "small", then "mexi tots." and then he'd go back to his phone. We'd order another thing. Frantic scan, then "Kyle! Kyle! How do put in a medium drink?" Repeat the process for the entire order. I wasn't sure who I wanted to throttle the most, Kyle or the nitwit behind the register. In fact, I was ready to tell him just move and ring up my own food - how hard could it be? Back in the glory days (10 years ago?) when this place was run like a tight ship by those triplet girls I went to high school with, this never would have happened! My food was deeply greasy as expected and I spent the rest of the evening with that blah feeling that comes from eating fast Mexican gut bombs. Nikolas wisely chose the vegetarian burrito and some tots, declaring it excellent and exactly how he remembered, saying what a sense of relief he felt after craving the Frog for so many years. I didn't want to rain on his parade, so I didn't mention the fact I thought the place was slowly sliding down the deep end of the service and quality spiral. The place even looks kinda ghetto lately, like they started remodeling the counter area and gave up, and they desperately need to replace the big sign outside which has been sitting mysteriously blank for several months - it's an eyesore. I hope the current owners get their act together or by the next time Nikolas comes to town for his Senor Froggy fix, the place will be gone, replaced by some trendy, upscale pan-Asian joint or something.

Labels: Birthday, Food, Mik-n-Mac's, OTV Live, Random Thoughts, Restaurant Reviews

Lima Bean Tears Last night I remembered why I gave Dragon House restaurant on Appleway such a bitchy review last year. On my way home from work, I decided I was hungry specifically for some combination fried rice to go. Right now it's unclear why I chose not to go to Canton, where I know the combo fried rice is excellent. I was hungry and Dragon House happened to be sorta on my way home. After I ordered, I noticed the cook looked like he had just gotten out of state prison where he was booked on meth charges. Scurry. With no plastic gloves or a courtesy hand washing, he threw my meal together and before I even had a chance to sit down it was ready. Suspiciously quick. Still, I was starving and I got home, sat down, opened my take out box and remembered reason number one why I hate the place: frozen mixed vegetables. I've said it a thousand times: certain vegetables DO NOT belong in fried rice. Green onions? Certainly. Sprouts? Of course. Peas? You're pushing it, but maybe. Corn? Hell no. LIMA BEANS? Like, gag me with a chopstick. Now, Lima beans are fine on their own or whatever, but they do not belong in fried rice. It's just laziness to throw in a package of frozen mixed vegetables, like the kind they forced you to eat in 1st grade: little cubed carrots, peas, green beans, corn, lima beans. Ugh! This is the only Chinese place I've ever been to that does it. Also, the shrimp was undercooked to the point of being nearly raw. They were inedible, I had to pick them out (all 2 1/2 of them). The chicken was rubbery and along with the pork it was sliced into such tiny bits and so scarcely used that it was barely detectable. I had to pour on the soy sauce to even get any flavor at all out the situation. Ungodly bad. I felt icky and gross all night last night from eating it. For this I paid $9.50 plus tax? Never, ever again. Insecticide When I was really young, my dad taught me two songs. One was sung to the tune of the William Tell Overture (theme to "The Lone Ranger.") We sang it every time we went to the dump. It went "To the dump, to the dump, to the dump, dump, dump" etc. The other song was sung whenever I stepped on ant. To the tune of the "Pink Panther" theme: "Dead Ant, Dead Ant, Dead Ant Dead Ant Dead Ant, Dead Ant, Dead Aaaaaaannnnnnt." Lately there's a weird problem with ants at my workplace. They're big and they're black. Every now and then I see an actual live one do the cha-cha across my desk. However, the real problem lies with the dead ants. I come in the morning and there are ant parts all over my desk and floor. Somehow, they die in the rafters above and drop dramatically from the heights and smash into pieces below. It's truly disgusting and I'm getting tired of vacuuming up the little dead buggers every damn day. Let's hope this is just a seasonal crisis. Lox and Neufchâtel Cheese on a Blogroll The Blogroll - that long list of places on the right on the page - it used to be called "Tuna Casserole of Links." I kinda like that, why did I change it? Anyways, I'm going to spend a moment every now and then pointing out some highlights and must-visits: !!OMG Blog!! - Does just what it says - makes you say "Oh my God!" Whether it's a shocking video clip, or a nude celebrity sighting, or just random bits of overheard conversation, this site is updated very frequently and has a decidedly queer bent. Never a dull moment. 365 Days Project - I was obsessed with round one of this daily MP3 series in 2004, and the 2007 version takes advantage of advances in bandwidth technology by including full albums and lengthy recordings instead of just single cuts. The curators of 365 Days present an amazing variety of oddball recordings and thrift store finds. Some of these are pretty much unlistenable but curious nonetheless, and some are full-on classics like General Electric's 1976 corporate masterpiece "Got to Investigate Silicones." It sounds crazy, but it's actually a fantastic, well-written and masterfully performed musical about the many amazing qualities and advanced uses of silicone-based products. 365 days is a daily addiction, and like a visit to Goodwill, you just never know what you'll find. Bradley's Buzz - It would be remiss not to point you once again to my pal Bradley's blog which is always fun to visit with it's amazing and tales of a starstruck Wisconsin boy's fabulous life in West Hollywood, CA. Pop in and do leave a comment or two while you're there. CDA Library NetCam - OK, maybe it's not the most action-packed site on the net, but I do check in every now and then to see how things are progressing with the new library currently under construction downtown. As a longtime library geek, I'm just excited for the late-summer unveiling of the shiny new lakeside facility. I can't wait to relax with a book in one of the comfy chairs up on the 3rd floor with the killer view of the lake and downtown. At least I'm hoping that's going to be the scenario. Death Wears White Socks - I've harbored a longtime obsession with obscure new wave music from the approximate era 78-84. There's just something exciting and experimental about this period and genre of music to me. For years, I've been digging in deeper and deeper in attempts to uncover obscure sounds full of glamorous doom, fried hair moods, swooshy synths, and pretentious lyrics. There are a few sites that do these kind of post-punk MP3s but none go quite as deep as this one. They dig deep in the musty record bins so we don't have to. Engrish - I find unintentional humor to be some of the funniest stuff ever. From "Showgirls" to the original "Iron Chef" I like it when things that are supposed to be meant seriously come across as a joke. Engrish is a site that features pictures of signs, packaging, t-shirts etc from various parts of Asia that include hilariously mangled attempts at English. Especially in Japan, they think it's just cool to use English words on stuff and they haven't the foggiest idea what the actual meaning is. This site makes my brain tingle a bit. Okay, that should keep you entertained enough for now. More links later.

Labels: Dead Ants, Food, Links, Random Thoughts

Get In, Get Under, Get Over Greetings to you, Making Flippy Floppy newcomers. There must be a few of you visiting for the first time after seeing the web address printed next to my big scary face in the morning paper (and in color even - yikes!) Relax, have a look around. Cup of tea? Don't be afraid to leave a comment or two. I'm a little frightened to think of the various family members, ex-teachers, co-workers and otherwise respectable citizens who might be discovering my blog for the first time and the raw perversity that lies within. Hopefully there's nothing TOO incriminating lurking in the archives. I try to be as PG-13 as possible. I thought about doing a separate blog to be called "Get Out" - same as the printed column - but I think at this point I'll just keep both my feet in one shoe. Or something like that. Anyway, if you haven't seen it, go buy some copies of the Spokesman Review and check it out - it's a nice little layout although they used file photos instead of the pics I took. No big whoop - writing is apparently my forte, not photography. Anyway, if anyone has any story suggestions (nightlife, local arts and music events, food finds) or anything to add to the events calendar, please let me know at getoutnorthidaho@gmail.com

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Positivity: Ain't It Great? I always like to give people my cheap dimestore advice, and one thing I'm always yammering about is the power of a positive approach to things. You know, be pro-active instead of re-active and life runs much smoother. Here's a great example of how that can work. Some of you may know that I run a little internet mp3 record label called Flexible Records - I have no intention of taking over the music industry, but it's a fun hobby. I thought of the name Flexible Records a few years ago and after a Google search turned up nothing by that name in existence, I stuck with it. It actually started as a final project for a web design class back at NIC. Anyhoo, way across the pond in jolly England, a chap named DJ Reflex decided to name his independent, homespun drum-and-bass label guess what? That's right - Flexible Records. I've been aware of it for year or so, but since we are located so far apart and have basically different types of music, I didn't care. Then, yesterday I get this email:

From:	"Dj Reflex"
To:	flexiblerecords@yahoo.com
Subject:	u label is shit....lol
Date:	Fri, 02 Mar 2007 00:38:27 +0000

U r a disgrace to the name "FLEXIBLE" records.....free music.....u
would
need to give it away.......its poorly produced....shit, american
CRAP..........i hope u close your website very soon..........
your sincerely

 Reflex - FLEXIBLE RECORDS

Well, then. Who pissed in his porridge? It was tempting to write him back with something equally as nasty and juvenile. I thought about it and decided to take the high road. I found his site, fully checked it out, looked up his real name and responded thusly:

From: Patrick/Flexible Records To: Dj Reflex Subject: Re: u label is shit....lol Date: Fri, 2 Mar 2007 12:52:07 -0800 (PST)

Nick, I have no intention of closing anything down. I do appreciate your opinion, however, and find the music on your "Flexible Records" to be pretty good! Too bad you can't find any music you like at our site - there's quite a diversity. I really see no reason for nastiness and insults, however. We are in completely different parts of the world, and I have a hard time thinking anyone will mix us up. However, I have held copyright to the name since 2000 and would not like to hassle with legal issues. It would be much nicer to get along and be positive, eh? The most important thing is the music.

Best of luck, Patrick, Flexible Records

So then I got this today:

HI PATRICK..............i am really very sorry about my  rant...........
it is  good to meet   you....and again i am sorry for being an idiot 
lol....... it would be much better to be freinds....and not enemies....  
good luck  stay in touch
     Reflex

Now, isn't that nice? We can all live happy ever after. I want to think it was my overwhelming kindness that generated such a response, and not the legal threat. Like our homeboy JT says on his latest record, "What goes around, goes around, goes around, comes all the way back around." Yeah, it's a big cliche but it still holds truth. Force positive vibrations out into the world and they will come back like a boomerang. Same thing happens with negativity, and then those people wonder why they're miserable and can't get ahead. To me, the formula is simple.

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Kootenai Medical Center and Molasses Factory

Here's a thing I'll never understand. Why is the fairly simple process of visiting the KMC emergency room always, ALWAYS slow as shit? I figured that at 5:30 AM today when I finally decided, in tears, that I couldn't hack the lower back pain any longer and showed up to a totally vacant ER that it would be pretty quick. It's like the workers there live in their world with it's own odd time schedule where yakking with co-workers and lurking aimlessly is mandatory and must take up a certain large percentage of each hour. After the receptionist took my info she said it would be "just a minute" and then continued manicuring her tragic claws, gradually finding the necessary motivation to let the doctor know I was waiting there in severe pain. I absently pored through nearly an entire issue of Country Living (it was either that or Bowhunter) before a rather fetching young man finally called me back. I waddled in like a hunchbacked old crone and was greeted by a nurse too young and gorgeous to be wearing that frumpy floral scrub top. It seems like in the past I've dealt with nothing but bitter, middle-aged divorcees here at the KMC ER, but these two were young and charming - real movie star types. I wanted to hang out awhile, order a drink and chat. After they took my vitals they declared I had a wee bit of fever and sent me into the lav to pee in a cup so they could test for a urinary tract infection. Well, I had just peed before I went there, so I was dry, but the nurse told me to "give it the old school college try" so I did, but I was in so much pain and was trying to contort and hold that cup just so and squeeze out a few precious drops. I emerged with a dry cup and told the male nurse he was going to have to hold "it" for me if they wanted to see any results. Sadly, he rejected my tragic come-on and told me I could try later if necessary. Fortunately, it wasn't. "The doctor will be right in" they said and sat me in the most uncomfortable chair ever in the history of the world, especially for someone with killer lower back pain. I shifted uncomfortably and began listening to the loud conversation going on at the nurse's station outside my room. Work gossip and not very good work gossip at that. Just endless blah blah, an older male voice and younger female voices.

"Well, you know, that Sandy, where does she get off telling me how to lubricate my rubber gloves?" "Yeah, she's a real bitch. You know she does it with totally dry rubber gloves, totally dry. Powdery." "Oh, can you imagine all those poor people who have to suffer through one of her rectal exams?" "I know, and did you hear about what Debbie did with the Sphygmomanometer guy last week?"

Okay, the conversation was nowhere near as interesting as that, but as ten minutes turned into twenty and then thirty, I remained motionless, having finally found a way to sit that was semi-tolerable. If I moved one smidge, the pain returned. Suddenly it was quiet and moments later the doctor came in. When he spoke, I realized he was the owner of the voice I had just been listening to making hot lung wind for the last half hour. He popped into my range of vision just long enough to decide I needed some good drugs and I'd be okay (could've told him that much), then *poof* he was gone before I could even ask him WHY HE MADE ME WAIT IN PAIN ALL THAT TIME WHILE HE GOSSIPED IDLY WITH THE NURSES. Alone again, just me and the ugly fish wallpaper, I decided to explore since I knew it would be another eternity before the nurse returned with my prescription. All the drawers and cabinets were locked, except one which had nothing but wet-naps. I pocketed a handful, realizing that I was obviously not the first bored and bitter patient to turn suddenly klepto. The nurse returned with my golden ticket, imprinted with the magic words "Lortab" and "Robaxin." I practically snatched it out of her hand and groaned in pain as I rose and gimped off into the sunrise.

Labels: Addictions, Flexible Records, Random Thoughts, Spokesman-Review

Get Out! to Debut Looks like my first column (the name: "Get Out!") is to be published in the SR next Saturday, the 3rd of March. I have to somehow conjure up a semi-decent picture of myself by Monday for them to use in the byline. The article is about Takara Japanese Restaurant and the benefits of eating sushi before a night out on the town. I ended up cannibalizing an earlier review of mine about Syringa, but so what. Plus, they wanted me to put together a "what's happening" sort of calendar for the N. Idaho metropolitan area (*cough*) and that was actually a lot more work than you'd imagine. Between endless folk and jazz acts, cover bands, and karaoke nights, there's actually a lot going on around here. I guess I'll have to pop into all these places eventually to do a write-up. Can't wait to cozy up next to the drunk Hell's Angels at the Powder River Saloon. Tough job = someone's gotta do it. Anyway, I decided to post the print column here on the blog the Friday before it appears in the paper, starting this coming week. Music Walk is a Dud For the next week's column, my plan was to write about the big downtown Coeur d'Alene Music Walk last night, which supposedly consisted of a dozen or so folksy guitarists and string quartets playing in the dark corners of the uppity cafes and art galleries. Yesterday afternoon saw a crazy blizzard blow in, visibility near impossible, the snow actually pain-inducing as it hit your face. The event was to begin at 5 and around 6 I decided to head downtown just to see what I could see, and what I saw was pretty much nothing. Traffic was light and it seemed like no-one was quite brave enough to take to the sidewalks. I drove slowly up Sherman Ave, peering in windows only to see a series of empty shops. I turned the radio off, rolled down the window and listened carefully for any sign that a music fest was happening. Nothing. Finally, I see Cris Lucas playing his guitar to 3 people inside Cafe Doma and I decide not to bother. I'm not sure if I want to blame the weather or blame whoever was in charge of promoting the event. The only way I even knew about it is because I work for a public city entity, but your average person would have no idea - I saw no ads or write-ups about the event in the local papers, no cool posters, nada. What about TV ads on the ugly new CDA TV Channel 19? I think it's nice that this city wants to support local music, but they are going to have to do more to actually get people out and involved, even in a blizzard. They are doing these Music Walks on a monthly basis, so I will try again next time. What Flavor of Drugs? Britney's third entrance into rehab this week has me asking something specific that no-one ever seems to mention: What kind of drugs is that girl hooked on? Simple hyrdrocodone or hardcore heroin? Is she just into the drinky-drinky? We already know she smokes pot and we don't really care too much about that. She's truly acting like she's trippin' on some bad brown acid or something, but ultimately my guess is a classic cocaine habit she must have picked up from Paris. Thoughts?... La Belle Belinda I'm really loving, of all things, the new Belinda Carlisle album, titled Voila! The erstwhile Go-Go's latest consists of covers of French classics by the likes of Edith Piaf, Serge Gainsbourg, and Jaques Brel. Her trademark warbly vibrato is well suited for the French language - it's as if she finally found the niche she's been searching for throughout the ups and down of her solo career. From a gorgeous rendition of "La Vie en Rose" to a dramatic interpretation of Gainsbourg's space-age pop classic "Contact", Voila! is quirky fun, especially when her California-girl accent seeps through to the surface -it's charming. Final track "Jezebel" is a dramatic treat, a wild, shoe-stomping scorcher. Somehow, she hooked in none other than Brian Eno to decorate the album with his distinctive keyboard style, which adds to to the surreal atmosphere, and makes Voila! transcend novelty and merit repeated listens. C'est magnifique! Senioritis I started this semester off with a bang, but six weeks in and I'm starting to slack. My JavaScript book nearly bring tears to my eyes as I nod out in vein attempts to absorb all the codes and boolean expressions and comparative operators. I gave up before finishing my Geology crossword puzzle quiz this week, leaving some answers blank and not really caring, knowing that I'll at least get 7 or 8 out of 10 points. I worked on that mofo for 6 hours. 6 hours work for 10 little points? My time is too valuable, dammit. The InDesign class - this software is very good to know, it will potentially expand my options into more print design rather than strictly web design, but working through the text just makes my eyes glaze over and my brain wander yonder. My easy class is Computer Forensics - read a chapter a week and respond with a brief essay. But, it's too easy - where is the challenge to keep me interested and involved? *Sigh* I've got to just barrel through it I guess, only 2 1/2 more months and I'm done done done. Well, for now anyway...

Labels: Belinda Carlisle, Britney Spears, Get Out, Random Thoughts, Takara

Oh my, where did the last week go? What was I doing when I should have been blogging? Geology, Dirty martinis, Insaniquarium Deluxe. Nothing, really. Just not a lot to yammer about, I guess. So I'll just come up with some random stuff: Weekly Local Terror Just got the good word that you will be seeing my big face every week in the Spokesman-Review newspaper. I'll be writing a column for the Idaho Extra section that comes out on Saturdays - restaurant and nightlife reviews and previews, that kind of thing. Hopefully, I won't get bludgeoned by angry restaurant owners along the way. Best part is, they're actually paying me to do it, so now I don't have go to the poorhouse when my school money dries up. So beware, North Idaho, I'll be coming to your businesses and lurking in the shadows, testing your cuisine, critiquing your martinis, berating your staff. Coming (Sorta) Soon: Local Restaurant/Nightclub guide I had a good idea recently about starting an offshoot website of Making Flippy Floppy that would be like a categorized list of all area restaurants, food spots, clubs, bars, hangouts where people can leave comments and write short reviews of places. I'll post all my reviews to date to get things started. Admittedly, I stole this idea directly from Jennifer, who runs the fantastic food blog "Taste Everything Once" out of Spokane. However, my site would be focused on Cd'A-PF-Hayden only and would be set up quite a bit differently. This site would be a nice reference for locals and tourists alike and maybe if it takes off I might be able to sell and ad or two on there. I've got 17 things on the burner at the moment so what difference will another new project make? If anyone reading this has any ideas or suggestions I'd love to hear them... Motherucking ilthy Keyboard It all started when the 'f' key on my keyboard quit coughing up 'f's when struck. Carefully I pried the plastic key top up and off its little white hinge. To my sheer horror I saw under there a jungle of cat hair, food crumbs, eyelashes, lint - basically enough material to nest and feed a mouse for the better part of a fortnight. I blew in there and pulled out as much gunk as I could get unstuck and thankfully, 'f' is back in action but it left me with a queasy need to pry all the keys off my keyboard and go for it. I'm kind of new to the laptop thing - is that the best way to do it? I used to just toss my dirty old keyboards and buy a new one at Big Lots for $6. Is there a place I can take it to be cleaned? If so, do I really want a total stranger finding who-knows-what under there? What unfortunate details about my life would be revealed that way? Anna Nicole (Probably Will Never) Rest In Peace This whole Anna Nicole thing is getting more and more surreal by the minute. My mother has been rapt in front of the television set and ringing my phone off the hook every time another gory detail emerges - the collapse, the body being removed, the vomit choke, the inconclusive autopsy. She just called again now to fill me in about the latest bizarre twist - Zsa Zsa Gabor's husband Prince What's-His-Name is now claiming to be the father of Anna Nicole's poor (but one day VERY rich) 5 month old daughter. How many fathers can one child have? Also, Anna Nicole's character in "The Hudsucker Proxy" was named "Za-Za". Eerie coincidence? I wasn't terribly shocked at the news of her death - I was kind of expecting it. In recent interviews following the death of her son, it was clear that her flame was already pretty much extinguished. A dullness in the eyes, sadness around the edges of her mouth. Long gone was the buxom Playboy princess, the fun zoftig airhead whose addictively pointless reality show had us all caught up for a few months. To me, she was never the same after she started popping the TrimSpa. One of my mother's many Anna-Nicole related juicy theories from the last 24 hours is that she never lost a pound from the TrimSpa, rather she shrunk herself away due to a Methadone addiction. Makes sense to me. Some people were just meant to die young in tragic fashion so we can forever preserve them as young and beautiful - Marilyn Monroe, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, so many more, all crushed under the cruel weight of their own fame. True Colors - Beautiful Like A Rainbow I just found out this morning about the upcoming "True Colors" tour that starts in Seattle in early summer. It features the campiest line-up possibly ever: Debbie Harry, Cyndi Lauper, Erasure, Margaret Cho, The Gossip, The Dresden Dolls and more acts to be revealed soon. The tour will benefit the Human Rights Campaign, PFLAG, and other gay-friendly groups. Other than my Erasure newsletter, the only place that has any info about it is on Wikipedia, so it must be very new news. Count me in - I've been itching to hit Seattle for a concert and hopefully it will happen right around graduation time, I think I'll buy a ticket as a graduation present to myself. Yay! So Fresh And So Clean Clean I'm a little boring when it comes to new trends in personal care products. I'm okay with whatever brand of shampoo is cheap and smells okay. Conditioner? Maybe, but I have odd hair and it's impossible to tame when overconditioned. Up until recently, a peek into my shower would reveal green bars of original Irish Spring. One impulse Big Lots shopping spree later and I have two new fantastic products to carry on about. I've always loved the collective work of the brilliant Swiss innovators over at St. Ives - the apricot facial scrub has always been one of my few concessions to fussiness. St. Ives Renewing Aroma Steam Body Wash is a silky bluish-green gel that creates a sort-of sweet menthol steamy vibe and yes, a feeling of renewal abounds. However, like heroin, you can try again and again but it's never going to be as great as the first time. The stuff is pretty good, but not quite as vivacious as the mysterious conditioner I purchased that night. I don't have the bottle in front of me at the moment, but I've looked the thing over and over for an actual brand name and there isn't one. It just says something about "Organic mint deep hair treatment" and when you rub some of this light green goo into your hair, look out! It's wow wow wow wow wow! An intense minty tingle takes over not only hair and scalp but sinks deep, deep in, seeping directly in to the brain's pleasure center. It's quite a powerful experience and wakes me up in the morning way better than a chai latte. Even after toweling off, the pleasant feeling lingers for a good 15-20 minutes, like the afterglow of a really great orgasm. Highly recommended.

Labels: Product Reviews, Random Thoughts, Spokesman-Review, True Colors Tour

Well, cool. It's been getting more and more trafficky here at Making Flippy Floppy. Seems like my vow to at least try to blog something every day has got people popping in from all over ze place. Once again, a special shout out to DFO, who has featured this very blog in his Huckleberries column in the Spokesman Review, the old-fashioned paper-and-ink version, even. Check it out:

OrangeTV Reviews Served w/Snark

OrangeTV is one of the many treasures who hang out at Huckleberries Online. He's the twentysomething who posts superb reviews of music, the Coeur d'Alene night scene and eateries on his Making Flippy Floppy blog. His local restaurant reviews are my personal faves. Of the Sherman IGA Deli last week, he raved about the Chester Fried chicken, barbecue spareribs and jo-jos, while recalling when he was about 12 that he and his mother "hid shivering behind a mayonnaise display as the store was being robbed."

What separates OrangeTV from other reviewers are observations like this: "Evening and night at the store is a whole different vibe – it turns into a edgy hotspot for welfare moms on meth, drunk college boys on meth, and extremely munchie-afflicted emo kids. Oh, and Hagadone honcho Jerry Jaeger. I've seen him shopping there a dozen times, late into the night, and I just know he can afford to upgrade to at least Super 1 or something. Maybe he does it to show us wee villagers that really, he's just a regular guy after all – just one of the folks."

In another post, he praised the new Breakfast Nook as a decent addition to Midtown, but he wasn't crazy about the hostess who waited on him: "The hostess coldly wrote our names on a list and still offered no clue as to when we might be seated. She was too young to be so frowny-faced and bitter." Fiesta Mexicana. Panda Express. Paul Bunyan Famous Hamburgers. OrangeTV reviews places where most North Idahoans can afford to eat. You can find a link to the Making Flippy Floppy reviews on my blog.

Labels: Random Thoughts

On KPBX right now I’m hearing classic TV themes performed in the style of Mozart, and “The Brady Bunch” is kicking my ass. Brilliant!

If anyone dies in the next day or two, I know why. My friend Jessi had me rapt the other day with her superstitious beliefs and all their stories. She said throughout her whole life, every time she crosses the path of a crow, someone she knows dies, from her grandmother when she was little, to her first husband, to the poor guy who died in that drilling accident in Sandpoint a few days ago (he happened to be best friends with her sister.) Yeah, she crossed a crow the day before.

Okay, maybe it’s just Jessi that’s cursed with this annoying problem, but when I was coming out of IGA this morning there was a fat crow waddling around by the front door, and it took me a few seconds after I’d walked past it to realize the potential fatality of the situation. I mean, maybe I have the crow death curse, too, but I’d just never noticed. Horrors!

Last night, I got to fondle some really sexy rocks – it was the first meeting of my Geology lab class. I was a bit peeved after I found out my old school pal Melanie was in a different section, but yesterday an opening miraculously appeared in her section so I was able to switch into her class at the last minute. We actually had fun working our way through a huge toy box of several dozen different mineral samples, performing a variety of tests to determine their identities. It’s been so long since I’ve had an actual hands-on science class, I felt like an eager kindergartner in there.

The bitch is that there’s also a nasty Geology quiz each week and tests that we have to go to the evil NIC Testing Center to take; The Testing Center, where I was accused of cheating with a calculator on a History exam. I had taken said History exam in a sweaty little room with other random people taking other random tests. I had no calculator on me, in fact I haven’t even owned one in years. I don’t believe in math. All I had was a pen and a test.

Anyway, I got an email a few days later from the instructor saying that a student had reported seeing me fiddle away freely on “what appeared to be a calculator” before handing my test to the gossipy, lost-in-space ladies at the main counter. I was totally stunned – I’d never been accused of cheating once in my life and always worked hard for my good grades – how dare some snatch come out of the blue and create such a mess for me – I could get suspended for something this serious! I explained to the instructor there must be a mix-up, and marched down to the Testing Center to rant and told them they’d better figure out what the heck they did and pronto. The instructor finally mentioned that the accusation came in the form of a post-it note attached to my test, which prompted the dimwit counter girl to realize she must have put the note on the wrong test – in reality she meant to put it on someone’s MATH test, hence the kerfuffle about the CALCULATOR – um, hell-O. I’ve been leery about taking exams there ever since.

I had the mixed pleasure of watching “Jackass 2” the other night. I got it mainly to see John Waters’ briefer than brief cameo appearance, but made it through most of the rest, with my finger on the fast-forward, that it. I’m queasy easy and I’ve never been the biggest fan of the gross-out genre. Some of the stunts here are actually clever and funny, but you get the feeling Johnny Knoxville is trying too hard to prove that he still “has it”, and hasn’t gone too Hollywood. All these guys are getting older and richer and they sometimes seem like they’re just going through the motions. Although, there were bits I just couldn’t bear – drinking horse semen? Swallowing zebra dingleberries? No thanks, not for me. Oh, and those of us who’ve been dying to see Bam Margera’s full manly business finally get our wish in the bonus section. Ow!

Labels: Random Thoughts