the big idea

So here it is (no sense wrapping it up, so to speak), my big idea: Buble Wrap. Not Bubble Wrap, Buble Wrap. Yes, instead of...bor-ing clear plastic bubble wrap, my protective wrapping would have singer Michael Buble's handsome mug on it; just like that, Buble Wrap.

That's it. It's simple, practical and potentially quite lucrative.

I think I know how Tolstoy felt after he wrote War and Peace -- tired. A little thirsty.

But overall, pretty fricking great!

who will watch the watchmen?

Dream job
Being
a night watchman
would probably
be the best job
ever.
All you need
is a flashlight
and
a stick
to hit people with.

Where
do I apply?

a footnote

In regards to The Pantomime Canal, I would especially like to recognize the 397* mimes who were killed (by villagers who mistook them for witches) during its construction. They died doing what they loved, and I know if they had it to do all over again they would do so, with painted-on smiles painted lovingly upon their pasty white faces.

*396 mimes were killed by villagers. 1 died of old age.

engineering feat

Today I would simply like to make note of one of the greatest engineering feats of our time. It's an accomplishment, I feel, that is often overlooked. But no less impressive for that. For you see, on this very day 95 years ago today, The Pantomime Canal was completed.

The skeptics scoffed and the critics said it could never be done. But a dedicated team of mimes said...well, they didn't say anything. They simply joined hands, and created a post-modern marvel -- under budget and years ahead of schedule, might I add.

Regrettably, no evidence of The Pantomime Canal remains in existence. But for one brief, glorious second it was there, looming over our collective unconscious -- and that's all that matters. The mimes who did this? Their names are forgotten, lost to history. No one probably knew them in the first place. It's not important. What is important is how they showed us what can be done if we all could just learn to think outside the box.

Please join me in a moment of silence to honor these heroic men and women.

a new era

Well, good people, colour me excited! We have us a brand new Presidente' (as of about 33 minutes ago) AND I have just been given an exciting new project to spearhead at work! Yes, after months of badgering the powers that be for more responsiblity, they have finally relented and put me in charge of The Alan Parsons Project.

Now the details are still pretty hazy. This was the first I had ever heard of this particular project. Nonetheless, I am very excited! And I'm going to be really proactive on this one. My first task will be to set up a meeting with Mr. Parsons to see if I can glean the objectives of this project. I think it would be good to hear from him firsthand. From there, I will put together a killer PowerPoint presentation. I'm telling you, I'm going to nail this thing -- to the wall!

Stay tuned for further developments!

egg nog follies

Well, it's definitely that time of year; that time of year when the egg nog starts to get hinky. Always a dangerous time. I'm one, of the roughly four people in existence, that drinks egg nog on a semi-regular basis. I'd drink it all year long, but they only make it in November and December. After that, you take your chances.

So I'm taking them. And there's really only one way to tell if the egg nog in your refrigerator is still 'good.' What you do is you take an 8 oz (ounce) glass, you fill it to the very brim with egg nog and then you slam it down in as few gulps as possible. Then you take a few steps back. And quietly observe.

Some further tips: If the egg nog tumbles out of the container in thickish clumps, the game is over, my friend -- and you've lost. Do not pass go. Just grab a chair and wait for November to roll around again. Sigh wistfully if it helps.

Oh, and this is really important: if you begin to vomit as though your life depends on it, don't fight it. Your life might truly depend on it. Just let it all come out. Wipe that dirty slate clean. If you have hair, you might want to ask someone you know to hold it back for you (so that it doesn't become intermingled with your vomit).

Finally, take this post with a grain of salt. And remember, the boneyard is littered with the skeletal remains of folks who have taken my advice. God rest their once merry souls..

a world on autopilot

These are strange times we're living in. Just the same, I'm quite excited about the prospect of a new president. There are few things I savor more in this world than that new president smell. It's almost as good as the smell of a new car! But, of course, nothing can beat that. Not even a whiff of fresh pomegranate. That's really big these days - pomegranate. Yup, everyone's drinking Pom juice these days. It's all the rage. And why not? It's good -- and it's good for you!

And how about this cold weather? Yikes!

Finally, a poem:

Perpetual motion (AKA Gear Daddies)
The Machine
runs itself now.
All we are
is the grease
that keeps it
running smooth

and
the stuff
that gets
caught
in the gears.

toasting the New Year

As usual, New Year's Eve was totally awesome! As scheduled, Helen Gurkelbee showed up and we did jello shots and played Hungry Hungry Hippos until the wee hours of the morning. Things got a little crazy, let me tell you. But, nobody got hurt and that's what matters most. The night ended with Helen making the lonely 'walk of shame' to her home four houses down the street, shame derived from the fact she didn't win a single game of Hungry Hungry Hippos.

To keep her company, and to make sure she got home safely, I mocked her from our front steps. "Feel free to come back anytime, just as soon as you get yourself some game, Gurkelbee!" I shouted, my voice echoing down the silent street. "That's right; hang your head - I don't blame you! I'd hang my head too!" I even threw in a few 'U-S-A's, too. For good measure.

Then I closed the door, turned out the light and went to bed.

Like I said, it was a great New Year's Eve!