(The hover over text doesn't appear here, but does on the linked site above.)
02 May 2007
Map of the Innerdnet
Randall Munroe posted this on today's xkcd. Cheek's frequent haunts are listed - are yours?
(The hover over text doesn't appear here, but does on the linked site above.)
(The hover over text doesn't appear here, but does on the linked site above.)
01 May 2007
Opening Doors
"when one door of happiness closes, another opens;
but often we look so long at the closed door
that we do not see the one which has been
opened for us" - Helen Keller
For CountryMouse.
May Day
At a Daytona concert in 1989, James Taylor shared his grandfather's greeting for this fine day:
"Hooray! Hooray! The first of May!
Outdoor f*cking starts today!"
Grandpa Taylor rocks!
A few weeks back, A Word A Day's weekly theme was "There's a word for it." One of the words was an incredibly serendipitous find, waiting all these years for discovery.
FloridaDad has long discussed navel gazing as a process for examing the old to divine the new. To examine who you are before choosing the next right thing.
He'd rub his belly, which we urchins had nicknamed Ralph, and chant "navel navel navel" as he illustrated navel gazing in action. Little did any of us know, there's a word for it!
omphaloskepsis (om-fuh-lo-SKEP-sis) noun :
Contemplation of one's navel.
From Greek omphalos (navel) + skepsis (act of looking, examination). Ultimately from the Indo-European root spek- (to observe) which is also the ancestor of suspect, spectrum, bishop (literally, overseer), despise, espionage, telescope, spectator, and spectacles.]
Today's word in Visual Thesaurus
Summer, fall, and winter was a time of much omphaloskepsis in Cheekdom. M'aidez calls were answered by many, and my gratitude is profound. In the words of Emily Dickinson: my friends are my estate.
CheekHaiku to illustrate word usage:
Spring's bold green leaves clothe
winter's naked limbs; so ends
omphaloskepsis.
Spring to life!
"Hooray! Hooray! The first of May!
Outdoor f*cking starts today!"
Grandpa Taylor rocks!
A few weeks back, A Word A Day's weekly theme was "There's a word for it." One of the words was an incredibly serendipitous find, waiting all these years for discovery.
FloridaDad has long discussed navel gazing as a process for examing the old to divine the new. To examine who you are before choosing the next right thing.
He'd rub his belly, which we urchins had nicknamed Ralph, and chant "navel navel navel" as he illustrated navel gazing in action. Little did any of us know, there's a word for it!
omphaloskepsis (om-fuh-lo-SKEP-sis) noun :
Contemplation of one's navel.
From Greek omphalos (navel) + skepsis (act of looking, examination). Ultimately from the Indo-European root spek- (to observe) which is also the ancestor of suspect, spectrum, bishop (literally, overseer), despise, espionage, telescope, spectator, and spectacles.]
Today's word in Visual Thesaurus
Summer, fall, and winter was a time of much omphaloskepsis in Cheekdom. M'aidez calls were answered by many, and my gratitude is profound. In the words of Emily Dickinson: my friends are my estate.
CheekHaiku to illustrate word usage:
Spring's bold green leaves clothe
winter's naked limbs; so ends
omphaloskepsis.
Spring to life!
29 April 2007
28 April 2007
More M.Y.S.K.A.: Corinne Bailey Rae
More Music You Should Know About (M.Y.S.K.A.): What Norah Jones did for the piano, Corinne Bailey Rae does for the acoustic guitar.
Singing softly, quietly; a song as a conversation. Corinne Bailey Rae does this effortlessly, and with perfection. If you haven't heard of her yet, avail yerself here.
And her groove doesn't suck either:
Singing softly, quietly; a song as a conversation. Corinne Bailey Rae does this effortlessly, and with perfection. If you haven't heard of her yet, avail yerself here.
And her groove doesn't suck either:
27 April 2007
How would Mark Twain blog?
You simply must check out today's Dilbert.
Blogging. Mark Twain. Ironic smacking that obtuse slackers can't detect.
Between his blag and his comic strip, Scott Adams tickles my lexuchun and verboseness to no end.
Blogging. Mark Twain. Ironic smacking that obtuse slackers can't detect.
Between his blag and his comic strip, Scott Adams tickles my lexuchun and verboseness to no end.
23 April 2007
Walk Humbly Son
Eddie From Ohio's song Walk Humbly Son from their This Is Me CD scores a short memorial video tribute on the Virginia Tech web site.
Julie is an '88 Hokie grad, while Eddie, Mike & Robbie are Duke Dog grads from JMU.
Julie is an '88 Hokie grad, while Eddie, Mike & Robbie are Duke Dog grads from JMU.
22 April 2007
Signs You're An Adult
Scott Adams did a recent post on his Dilbert blag about permanent age. While still pondering mine, it's somewhere south of the currently accumulated years.
I wear cartoon jammies. I seek out new music and don't discount it as shite. I'm friends with urchins of friends and seldom find myself saying "when I was your age" to 'em.
But.
There are milestones I continue to hit that serve as signs I'm an adult. A few weeks back was one: watching the odometer turn over 100,000 miles.
Bought used @ 17,000 miles in the fall of 1997. Have worked from home since, enjoying the insurance discount for the 0 to 3 mile commute. The paint job has seen its better day, but it's paid for and gets me around. The iPod tape deck adapter gave it a new leash on life.
Recent months had me purchase pondering for the next chariot, but I hit two problems. First, that I'm newly particular about the shape of vehicles. I can't find one that doesn't irk me - within or without my price range. And then I met the startling realization that I'm pragmatic.
It ain't broke. Do I really need a new car? Sheena posed harder questions during Cheek Weekend about conspicous resource consumption, and got me thinking.
I'd like to have heated leather seats for long road trips, but I could rent a car for those and save cashola (and have a lesser impact on the earth). I'd like ... well, really, that's all I want that I don't have right now. Then Sheena went and got all unchummy for Hummers.
Happy Earth Day!
I wear cartoon jammies. I seek out new music and don't discount it as shite. I'm friends with urchins of friends and seldom find myself saying "when I was your age" to 'em.
But.
There are milestones I continue to hit that serve as signs I'm an adult. A few weeks back was one: watching the odometer turn over 100,000 miles.
Bought used @ 17,000 miles in the fall of 1997. Have worked from home since, enjoying the insurance discount for the 0 to 3 mile commute. The paint job has seen its better day, but it's paid for and gets me around. The iPod tape deck adapter gave it a new leash on life.
Recent months had me purchase pondering for the next chariot, but I hit two problems. First, that I'm newly particular about the shape of vehicles. I can't find one that doesn't irk me - within or without my price range. And then I met the startling realization that I'm pragmatic.
It ain't broke. Do I really need a new car? Sheena posed harder questions during Cheek Weekend about conspicous resource consumption, and got me thinking.
I'd like to have heated leather seats for long road trips, but I could rent a car for those and save cashola (and have a lesser impact on the earth). I'd like ... well, really, that's all I want that I don't have right now. Then Sheena went and got all unchummy for Hummers.
Happy Earth Day!
19 April 2007
Slow Down
Robbie Shaefer (of Eddie From Ohio) posted some powerful stuff on his MySpace blog this week:
"Slow down.
Pain begets pain.
Violence begets violence.
Love begets love."
Read Robbie's full post here.
Update: props to CountryMouse for drawing my attention to Mary's post and the fantastic excerpt of a speech by Robert F. Kennedy on April 5, 1968; that would the be day after Martin Luther King Jr.'s senseless and violent death. RFK's words resonate just as strongly now as they did then. Walking In Your Footsteps by The Police keeps tripping through my head. Lessons unlearned.
James, by Mark Tonra
Aries Horroscope
Sorry, Aries peeps. You know how seriously I take horrorscopes. This being your last day n' stuff, I'd be remiss if I didn't share this most righteous and insightful of admonitions for you.
Get Fuzzy, by Darby Conley
Aw. Sniff. Makes me really miss visiting CarolinaMom and taking P.J. for a walk to check his pee mail, say hi to the cows, and get sideswiped by Sue Bird the cat. All your girls still love you, Peter Joseph McSpaniel.
Get Fuzzy, by Darby Conley
Aw. Sniff. Makes me really miss visiting CarolinaMom and taking P.J. for a walk to check his pee mail, say hi to the cows, and get sideswiped by Sue Bird the cat. All your girls still love you, Peter Joseph McSpaniel.
18 April 2007
Differences
James, by Mark TonraA debate is afoot over on Whitenoise's blag.
Brings to mind a few quotes:
"Liberty is the possibility of doubting, the possibility of making a mistake, the possibility of searching and experimenting, the possibility of saying No to any authority - literary, artistic, philosophic, religious, social, and even political."
- Ignazio Silone, author (1900-1978)
"It is not what we do, but also what we do not do, for which we are accountable."
- Moliere, actor and playwright (1622-1673)
"To fear is one thing. To let fear grab you by the tail and swing you around is another."
– Katherine Paterson, Jacob Have I Loved
"A computer lets you make more mistakes faster than any other invention in human history, with the possible exception of handguns and tequila."
- Pundit Mitch Radcliffe
And ...
"Much of the vitality in a friendship lies in the honoring of differences, not simply in the enjoyment of similarities."
– James L. Frederick in Journal of Ecumenical Studies
James, by Mark TonraAll of the quotes above found their way to me via A.Word.A.Day - another reason to subscribe.
"That’s all hearsay." "Yeah. And here I am sayin’ it!"
- Rob Wilco to Bucky, Get Fuzzy by Darby Conley, 04-Oct-2006
17 April 2007
Today We Are All Hokies
From Ben Lansing.
We're all with you, Hokies.
- A former JMU Duke Dog, born of an ODU / W&M alum, grandchild of a Hampton University professor.
16 April 2007
Free Thinking
Because I have used corporate computers.
Because I work in the technology industry.
Because I know too clever geeks who can leap tall firewalls in a single line of CheatWare.
"Oh! Nice work, pixel Granny! Undermine those corporate oppressors on wit your bad self!"
Because I volunteer at the Georgia Aquarium.
Because I have an imagination that's not fond of firewalls.
Because I'm a free thinker.
Because I know the difference between logging off and logging out.
Because having Admin privileges doesn't suck.
Because I blog.
These are the reasons why I so totally loved this StrongBad e-mail, from work. Be sure to watch it. From work.
Because I work in the technology industry.
Because I know too clever geeks who can leap tall firewalls in a single line of CheatWare.
"Oh! Nice work, pixel Granny! Undermine those corporate oppressors on wit your bad self!"
Because I volunteer at the Georgia Aquarium.
Because I have an imagination that's not fond of firewalls.
Because I'm a free thinker.
Because I know the difference between logging off and logging out.
Because having Admin privileges doesn't suck.
Because I blog.
These are the reasons why I so totally loved this StrongBad e-mail, from work. Be sure to watch it. From work.
These Words Could Corrupt You
Not much posting of late. I don't mean to be hiding away and in a testaceous state. Not much time either for titivating chez Cheek these days, but am working on paying proper, passionate attention to the recent addition in my bedroom. I did manage to attend one musical performance last week, which included traversing the vomitorium to take in the great a cappella choral sounds of Emory University singers. As the cockshut arrives, my ears can't avoid the turdiform calls reminding me:
Spring is here ...
Spring is here ...
Spring is here.
Yes, I've been a blag slack*ss. But today's post is inspired by last week's themed words from A Word A Day:
Recently a national-award-winning children's book made news. Any book that wins a prominent award should make news but this one did it for the wrong reasons. A controversy arose because the book included the word scrotum [From Latin scrautum (quiver)].
Some self-professed protectors of human sensibilities felt that the book ought not to be in libraries -- they felt the book was inappropriate for children. Imagine if kids learned a straightforward word to describe a part of human body! Who knows, they might be scarred for life.
Well, this week's words are an antidote for such thinking. These are words that may sound risque but aren't. And if you find you haven't received the newsletter a few days this week, it's probably your email filter working hard to protect you from getting corrupted by these words.
Spring is here ...
Spring is here ...
Spring is here.
Yes, I've been a blag slack*ss. But today's post is inspired by last week's themed words from A Word A Day:
Recently a national-award-winning children's book made news. Any book that wins a prominent award should make news but this one did it for the wrong reasons. A controversy arose because the book included the word scrotum [From Latin scrautum (quiver)].
Some self-professed protectors of human sensibilities felt that the book ought not to be in libraries -- they felt the book was inappropriate for children. Imagine if kids learned a straightforward word to describe a part of human body! Who knows, they might be scarred for life.
Well, this week's words are an antidote for such thinking. These are words that may sound risque but aren't. And if you find you haven't received the newsletter a few days this week, it's probably your email filter working hard to protect you from getting corrupted by these words.
10 April 2007
Fat American Keesters?
Reading Erin's blag this morning, solidarity is called for. She links to Brit Brian Appleyard's posts on American fatness.
I don't discount that this country has a problem with obesity. I'll even agree that many of us 'mericans are rather myopic, rich in denial, and culturally obtuse about other ways, means, and customs.
But stand back, Mr. Appleyard! I'm gonna have to kick what I assume can only be your FAT British arse for dissing peeps. PEEPS! You're gonna go there?!
"Six hundred million are eaten around Easter, two for every American. They look disgusting, though Peep brulee has possibilities. This does not surprise me. Americans do most things better than we do - notably writing, TV comedy and optimism - but good confectionery has so far eluded them. Is there, for example, a more disgusting comestible than a Hershey bar? I think not."
/Ahem. Rolling up of sleeves. Bile raised. Rant mode ON!
1. It's mostly our sugar-addled children that are consuming 99% of the peeps, quaffing sugar-rich soda as they cull the confectionous loot in their Easter baskets. Children worldwide are famous for consuming foods of questionable and no taste. Peeps taste remarkably similar to cotton candy - I should know, I'm eating one RIGHT NOW. A traditional yellow peep, gifted by a new friend in Florida. It's rude not to eat candy given to you. And kids eat them as gifts from the Easter Bunny. So, Sir Arse, you are dissing not only 'mericans, but the Easter Bunny too. That makes you mean. Mean people suck, per Happy Bunny. Happy Bunny is on my kick ball team and we're BOTH gonna kick your British fanny!
2. Have you ever eaten a peep, Sir Arse? Methinks not. So you can simply shut the h*ll up.
3. 'mericans do even mo' things mo' bettah, but those 3 are good 'uns. Spanks for the shout outs. In trade, y'all are better at spelling / punctuation / grammar (that's "ritin", one of the three R's we Yanks learn in skool - not to be confused with "writing", which we do indeed excel at), geography, and beer. Although the beers in particular I'm referencing are Guinness (Irish) and Strongbow Apple Cider (not a beer). I like y'all's humor, too, but it's a par thing, not a superlative. I offer this on topic xkcd web comic as an example:
4. 'mericans DON'T do good confectionery? At all? Speaking in absolutes is such a sh*t stirring activity, Sir Arse. While taste is in the tongue, mouth, and nose of the taster and I won't dither with you over Hershey bars in particular, you again suck. 'mericans have some yummilicous chocolates, even some made by the Hershey company. Special Dark with Almonds is a fave. Have you never heard of Ghiradelli? And my Canuck peeps should join me in shouting out about See's Candy, as it was founded by a Canadian who became an American. Cheek peeps, add yer favorite 'merican candy guilty pleasures via comments.
/rant mode OFF
There's more in me, but I'm all exhausted. My sugar high from eating the peep has waned, and my sugar coma is now waxing thick.
But, my 'merican bum isn't quite as fat as it used to be. I offer the Easter Keester photo below, taken Sunday with my Easter urchin peeps after many of them had eaten Easter peeps of many colors. Not an obese booty in sight. I join Erin in asking Sir Arse to display his keester for all the world to see. (Nice pic, Erin! Good gams, too!)
I don't discount that this country has a problem with obesity. I'll even agree that many of us 'mericans are rather myopic, rich in denial, and culturally obtuse about other ways, means, and customs.
But stand back, Mr. Appleyard! I'm gonna have to kick what I assume can only be your FAT British arse for dissing peeps. PEEPS! You're gonna go there?!
"Six hundred million are eaten around Easter, two for every American. They look disgusting, though Peep brulee has possibilities. This does not surprise me. Americans do most things better than we do - notably writing, TV comedy and optimism - but good confectionery has so far eluded them. Is there, for example, a more disgusting comestible than a Hershey bar? I think not."
/Ahem. Rolling up of sleeves. Bile raised. Rant mode ON!
1. It's mostly our sugar-addled children that are consuming 99% of the peeps, quaffing sugar-rich soda as they cull the confectionous loot in their Easter baskets. Children worldwide are famous for consuming foods of questionable and no taste. Peeps taste remarkably similar to cotton candy - I should know, I'm eating one RIGHT NOW. A traditional yellow peep, gifted by a new friend in Florida. It's rude not to eat candy given to you. And kids eat them as gifts from the Easter Bunny. So, Sir Arse, you are dissing not only 'mericans, but the Easter Bunny too. That makes you mean. Mean people suck, per Happy Bunny. Happy Bunny is on my kick ball team and we're BOTH gonna kick your British fanny!
2. Have you ever eaten a peep, Sir Arse? Methinks not. So you can simply shut the h*ll up.
3. 'mericans do even mo' things mo' bettah, but those 3 are good 'uns. Spanks for the shout outs. In trade, y'all are better at spelling / punctuation / grammar (that's "ritin", one of the three R's we Yanks learn in skool - not to be confused with "writing", which we do indeed excel at), geography, and beer. Although the beers in particular I'm referencing are Guinness (Irish) and Strongbow Apple Cider (not a beer). I like y'all's humor, too, but it's a par thing, not a superlative. I offer this on topic xkcd web comic as an example:
4. 'mericans DON'T do good confectionery? At all? Speaking in absolutes is such a sh*t stirring activity, Sir Arse. While taste is in the tongue, mouth, and nose of the taster and I won't dither with you over Hershey bars in particular, you again suck. 'mericans have some yummilicous chocolates, even some made by the Hershey company. Special Dark with Almonds is a fave. Have you never heard of Ghiradelli? And my Canuck peeps should join me in shouting out about See's Candy, as it was founded by a Canadian who became an American. Cheek peeps, add yer favorite 'merican candy guilty pleasures via comments.
/rant mode OFF
There's more in me, but I'm all exhausted. My sugar high from eating the peep has waned, and my sugar coma is now waxing thick.
But, my 'merican bum isn't quite as fat as it used to be. I offer the Easter Keester photo below, taken Sunday with my Easter urchin peeps after many of them had eaten Easter peeps of many colors. Not an obese booty in sight. I join Erin in asking Sir Arse to display his keester for all the world to see. (Nice pic, Erin! Good gams, too!)
09 April 2007
Easter Peeps
SmashAsh gracefully hosted Easter supper and put out a righteous southern spread ... baked ham, fried okra, squash and tomato casserole (a Cheek fave!), creamed corn, baked sweet potatoes, and scalloped taters brought by JackolAsh. Young KK slaved 'til the wee hours over a layerlicious yellow cake with yummy fudge icing - effort much appreciated. The kids' Easter baskets were filled with peeps of many colors - SmashAsh was particularly pleased to have found purple ones this year.
Her urchins struck poses for this year's Easter photos - such 'tudes! You'd never know they were all goosebumply - real troopers for the family photo cause.
SmashAsh's brood are quite photogenic. Their spring famdamily photos were snapped last Easter in the back yard chez Swede - and dang, these urchins are cute.
Easter weekend was quite chilly in Atlanta - the last gasp of winter found many with their grump on, but it was a serendipitous thang chez Cheek. It afforded wonderful fires Friday night for dinner with Kimplicated, and again last night for just me and the not so wee chats.
Thought I'd retired the hot cocoa for the season as well, but the free trade stuff from Trader Joe's came back out of the cupboard - how fortunate that a bit o' Redi Whip was still in the fridge! Ah, quaffing cocoa by the fire, catching up with peeps southern and Canuckian, chillin' with the kitties. A fine Easter Sunday's night.
Her urchins struck poses for this year's Easter photos - such 'tudes! You'd never know they were all goosebumply - real troopers for the family photo cause.
SmashAsh's brood are quite photogenic. Their spring famdamily photos were snapped last Easter in the back yard chez Swede - and dang, these urchins are cute.
Easter weekend was quite chilly in Atlanta - the last gasp of winter found many with their grump on, but it was a serendipitous thang chez Cheek. It afforded wonderful fires Friday night for dinner with Kimplicated, and again last night for just me and the not so wee chats.
Thought I'd retired the hot cocoa for the season as well, but the free trade stuff from Trader Joe's came back out of the cupboard - how fortunate that a bit o' Redi Whip was still in the fridge! Ah, quaffing cocoa by the fire, catching up with peeps southern and Canuckian, chillin' with the kitties. A fine Easter Sunday's night.
Fare thee well, Johnny Hart
Tip o' the hat: Johhny Hart passed away on Saturday. He brought us B.C. Rock and created Wizard of Id. Great stuff.
06 April 2007
M.Y.S.K.A.: Lonely? Bat It Down!
There are songs, and then there are tunes. You know the ones. That you hear for the first time, and then have to listen to them again. And again. The lyrics are poetically compelling. The music grabs you, knocks you down, makes you happy, makes you sad, makes you THINK.
And then you can't get it out of your pointy head.
This is one of those: Mike Doughty's Looking at the World from the Bottom of a Well. It's been in my pointy head since last summer from his Haughty Melodic release of unsuck listen list fame. The song's message is powerfully poignant but not realizable when first heard - maybe that's why it stuck. Work still to be done.
Here's to fewer "uncool ways of decathecting".
Lonely
And the only way to beat it is to bat it down
And the only way to beat it is to bat it down
And the only way to beat it is to bat it down, down
Upon further thought ... perhaps it's because it takes me back to The Police and So Lonely. You?
And then you can't get it out of your pointy head.
This is one of those: Mike Doughty's Looking at the World from the Bottom of a Well. It's been in my pointy head since last summer from his Haughty Melodic release of unsuck listen list fame. The song's message is powerfully poignant but not realizable when first heard - maybe that's why it stuck. Work still to be done.
Here's to fewer "uncool ways of decathecting".
Lonely
And the only way to beat it is to bat it down
And the only way to beat it is to bat it down
And the only way to beat it is to bat it down, down
Upon further thought ... perhaps it's because it takes me back to The Police and So Lonely. You?
Kernan and "Rightness"
Grammar Girl has received props from a previous post, but Cheek knows how many of you are slack*ssbast*rds and likely haven't gone to check it out on the site or on iTunes.
Well. Shame on you.
One of Kernan's rules is that, as an English major college graduate, I'm allowed to spell and grammarize however I wish. I'm certified. But I also agree with April Fool's "Grammar Girl" that winners get to make their own grammar rules, as well. That seems only fair. I'm wincing in anticipation on that statement, as certain peeps will gleefully Cheek-bash with this authority.
Text below for the April Fool's Grammar Girl, but trust me, you want to listen to all of its 4 minute glory here. You *must* hear the caller, Stewart, and how he says:
"I thank you mighty kindly for, uh, puttin' up with me. I feel like ever since I started listenin' to yer show, that it's really improved my entire lexuhcun, and it's made me more verboseness in just my whole way of presentin' myself, and I really do thank you kindly."
CountryMouse, I'm sure that's just making yer *sshole quivah with the peevies!
************************************************************************
I hope you enjoy this April Fools' Day show. It was created by Will Ross, host of The Traveling Avatar's Quick and Dirty Tips for a Better Second Life.
[Will's voice] Grammar Girl here, today we’re going to talk about the semicolon—the Roger Clinton of the punctuation world. Considered more useful than the regular colon by most grammar scholars because of its ability to form a winking smiley face, which is far cuter then the traditional smiley face emoticon, the semicolon can also...
[ring]Oh! Looks like we have a call!
[Call from Stewart, who comments on Grammar Girl's “hotness” and asks about bingoing, bingoed, and the plural of bingo.]
From Cheek ... seriously, listen to at least this part!
Hi, Stewart, and first off I’m sorry to hear about your battle with the mysterious assassin known only as “The Ninja.” As for your comments on my smoking hotness, remember, Grammar Girl affected you with her hotness. But the effect of her hotness, was you buying her a diamond tennis bracelet.
I’m glad to hear about your newfound grammatical skills, and I’ll be glad to answer your question. The short answer to your question is that if you win a game of bingo, you can say whatever you’d like. You’re a winner, and you get to make the rules. This is called the “Winners Write the Grammar Rule” which was created by Sir Ethan Fancybloomers, Lord of Wellingsly after his was the only ship of the line to fight the battle of Trafalgar from the shore after being run aground due to confusion about when the celebration rum was to be given to the sailors. Despite being put on the “honor system” to consume their rum only after Napoleon’s fleet was decimated, the entire crew of 415 jumped the gun leading to one of the most darkest moments in Royal Navy History. But I digress.
I use a simple device to remember the “winner’s rule.” Whenever you’re confused, just think “I before thee, after any victory.” It’s this rule that makes any X-Box live victory trash talking grammatically correct, regardless of how it’s phrased.
Now back to the subject of ninjas. When describing a group of ninjas you…
Grammar Girl: Will, what are you doing in my office?
Will: Ohhh, this is your office? See, I get confused because our offices look so similar.
Grammar Girl: Here’s a good way to tell them apart. My office is in Arizona.
Will: Cool, I’ll just finish this one thing…
Grammar Girl: Out!
Will: Grammar girl signing out!
Well. Shame on you.
One of Kernan's rules is that, as an English major college graduate, I'm allowed to spell and grammarize however I wish. I'm certified. But I also agree with April Fool's "Grammar Girl" that winners get to make their own grammar rules, as well. That seems only fair. I'm wincing in anticipation on that statement, as certain peeps will gleefully Cheek-bash with this authority.
Text below for the April Fool's Grammar Girl, but trust me, you want to listen to all of its 4 minute glory here. You *must* hear the caller, Stewart, and how he says:
"I thank you mighty kindly for, uh, puttin' up with me. I feel like ever since I started listenin' to yer show, that it's really improved my entire lexuhcun, and it's made me more verboseness in just my whole way of presentin' myself, and I really do thank you kindly."
CountryMouse, I'm sure that's just making yer *sshole quivah with the peevies!
************************************************************************
I hope you enjoy this April Fools' Day show. It was created by Will Ross, host of The Traveling Avatar's Quick and Dirty Tips for a Better Second Life.
[Will's voice] Grammar Girl here, today we’re going to talk about the semicolon—the Roger Clinton of the punctuation world. Considered more useful than the regular colon by most grammar scholars because of its ability to form a winking smiley face, which is far cuter then the traditional smiley face emoticon, the semicolon can also...
[ring]Oh! Looks like we have a call!
[Call from Stewart, who comments on Grammar Girl's “hotness” and asks about bingoing, bingoed, and the plural of bingo.]
From Cheek ... seriously, listen to at least this part!
Hi, Stewart, and first off I’m sorry to hear about your battle with the mysterious assassin known only as “The Ninja.” As for your comments on my smoking hotness, remember, Grammar Girl affected you with her hotness. But the effect of her hotness, was you buying her a diamond tennis bracelet.
I’m glad to hear about your newfound grammatical skills, and I’ll be glad to answer your question. The short answer to your question is that if you win a game of bingo, you can say whatever you’d like. You’re a winner, and you get to make the rules. This is called the “Winners Write the Grammar Rule” which was created by Sir Ethan Fancybloomers, Lord of Wellingsly after his was the only ship of the line to fight the battle of Trafalgar from the shore after being run aground due to confusion about when the celebration rum was to be given to the sailors. Despite being put on the “honor system” to consume their rum only after Napoleon’s fleet was decimated, the entire crew of 415 jumped the gun leading to one of the most darkest moments in Royal Navy History. But I digress.
I use a simple device to remember the “winner’s rule.” Whenever you’re confused, just think “I before thee, after any victory.” It’s this rule that makes any X-Box live victory trash talking grammatically correct, regardless of how it’s phrased.
Now back to the subject of ninjas. When describing a group of ninjas you…
Grammar Girl: Will, what are you doing in my office?
Will: Ohhh, this is your office? See, I get confused because our offices look so similar.
Grammar Girl: Here’s a good way to tell them apart. My office is in Arizona.
Will: Cool, I’ll just finish this one thing…
Grammar Girl: Out!
Will: Grammar girl signing out!
04 April 2007
Death, Canada and Taxes: No Such Things In Real Life?
Comics in this post are from Get Fuzzy by Darby ConleyYes, contrary to Bucky’s protestations, they both exist.
Forces are at work, bringing Canadians to constant recall. Scott Adam’s post today in the Dilbert Blog, for example, on imagining how reduced U.S. military resources could possibly make U.S. citizens less safe (they don’t). He imagines the totally plausible scenario where "Beer-soaked Canadians start throwing snowballs over the border and won’t listen to reason.".
Like that doesn’t happen all the time? And we never do anything about it. Beer soaked U.S. border citizens are just as drunk, just as deep in their snowball arsenal, and end the day inviting the Canucks by the fire if they’ll just share their better cheap beer.
American dreams, Canadian dreams, human dreams; they aren’t that different, really.
Recent conversation included reference to the SouthPark movie and the "Blame Canada" fake diatribe. I’ve a sticker saying such hiding in a box somewhere that used to have proud purchase on my desk, but since leaving Canadian employ there are fewer reasons to spy it and sigh in agreement. BioAsh’s recent "Enough Already" post certainly blames Canada a’plenty – sick stuff, man. Guess Greenpeace should update their Blame Canada vid accordingly until that policy changes as well:
And oh! my! gawd! The guffaws yielded from sharing this particularly swell xkcd offering with Mr. Pid yesterday produced much needed chortles. I lurve this web comic - it's so damn vivid!
Rumour has it my favourite Canadian will be in the Southeast in the coming weeks (no, those aren't misspellings of "rumor" and "favorite" – those are wacky Canuckian spellings). Sheena may have to be kidnapped for Atlanta revel rousing – her seasoned experience in things music and foodgasmic eats always packs cherry popping promise. And perhaps some cash exchange on the side?
Bursting Bubbles (and Forgiveness)
Ms. Bertoci. An early crush. The assistant teacher in my kindergarten class at Paul Burbank Elementary. Long, dark hair, pretty brown eyes, red lipsticked mouth, and smart, big-girl clothes. Everyone loved Ms. Bertoci.
She made sure we had our things as we lined up midday to depart on the bus, checking each one of us on our way out the door and giving us a hug goodbye. My dad tried to sneak into that line more than once.
One March morning, she herded us all to the back of the classroom to look out the window: snow falling on the first day of spring, 1974 in Hampton, Virginia. She coerced the lead teacher into letting us outside to celebrate and catch snowflakes on our tongues.
Fast forward to second grade. Our teacher, Mrs. Lawder, kept nodding off in class. We thought it was because she was old. The principal began class one day by announcing that Mrs. Lawder had a brain tumor and would be out the rest of the year, and would we please welcome our substitute teacher: Ms. Bertoci.
Certainly someone else remembered her with the same affection as I did, but it was like she was a shiny gift wrapped for me. Things at home were chaotic – beyond chaotic – and I welcomed her familiar face like warm sunshine after a long winter. I was her teacher’s pet.
She let me stay on after class to help grade papers, sharing a coke with me even though it was against the rules. We’d talk about books. About swimming. About math. About the violin. About anything. She was part best friend, part older sister, part mother. I adored her. I was the only one in the class that she treated as "hers".
And then the bubble burst. One day as I sat grading papers and drinking the shared verboten coke, she smoked a cigarette, standing in the back of the classroom with the door ajar for the smoke to escape undetected. As her pet, her confidant, I was sure not to tell. But my heart was broken, my crush crushed.
When I was little, I thought my parents and adults were all-knowing, and always righter than me. Ms. Bertoci was my first glimpse that people I admired and looked up to were not, in fact, perfect. People are people. We seem shiny and new and perfect at first, but we eventually become known.
We are walking mistake generators, “crashing around trying to make the best of an unpredictable universe” (Charlie Brooker). We are moist robots (Scott Adams). We are fallable. We let people down. We break. We crush.
I saw her again in fourth grade. Her best friend was the daughter of my fourth grade teacher, and they’d come by the classroom on occasion. She'd greet me with fondness, but I'd shy away, reeling on the cusp of puberty and self-absorbtion. She'd seem to look at me wistfully as I'd leave.
I didn't see her with the same joy as before, with the same acceptance. Tolerance had been part of my DNA at birth, but was awkwardly absent for her. I don't think she ever knew how she fell out of favor. I have to wonder why she took the time to reach out to me, and if she might have needed me as much as I needed her during those months in the second grade.
Ms. Bertoci may have been my first crushed, but she’s still the one who pointed out the wonder of snowfall on that first day of kindergarten spring. I’ll always smile remembering that. Now, as a fellow adult member in the walking mistake generator club, I can cut her some slack.
She made sure we had our things as we lined up midday to depart on the bus, checking each one of us on our way out the door and giving us a hug goodbye. My dad tried to sneak into that line more than once.
One March morning, she herded us all to the back of the classroom to look out the window: snow falling on the first day of spring, 1974 in Hampton, Virginia. She coerced the lead teacher into letting us outside to celebrate and catch snowflakes on our tongues.
Fast forward to second grade. Our teacher, Mrs. Lawder, kept nodding off in class. We thought it was because she was old. The principal began class one day by announcing that Mrs. Lawder had a brain tumor and would be out the rest of the year, and would we please welcome our substitute teacher: Ms. Bertoci.
Certainly someone else remembered her with the same affection as I did, but it was like she was a shiny gift wrapped for me. Things at home were chaotic – beyond chaotic – and I welcomed her familiar face like warm sunshine after a long winter. I was her teacher’s pet.
She let me stay on after class to help grade papers, sharing a coke with me even though it was against the rules. We’d talk about books. About swimming. About math. About the violin. About anything. She was part best friend, part older sister, part mother. I adored her. I was the only one in the class that she treated as "hers".
And then the bubble burst. One day as I sat grading papers and drinking the shared verboten coke, she smoked a cigarette, standing in the back of the classroom with the door ajar for the smoke to escape undetected. As her pet, her confidant, I was sure not to tell. But my heart was broken, my crush crushed.
When I was little, I thought my parents and adults were all-knowing, and always righter than me. Ms. Bertoci was my first glimpse that people I admired and looked up to were not, in fact, perfect. People are people. We seem shiny and new and perfect at first, but we eventually become known.
We are walking mistake generators, “crashing around trying to make the best of an unpredictable universe” (Charlie Brooker). We are moist robots (Scott Adams). We are fallable. We let people down. We break. We crush.
I saw her again in fourth grade. Her best friend was the daughter of my fourth grade teacher, and they’d come by the classroom on occasion. She'd greet me with fondness, but I'd shy away, reeling on the cusp of puberty and self-absorbtion. She'd seem to look at me wistfully as I'd leave.
I didn't see her with the same joy as before, with the same acceptance. Tolerance had been part of my DNA at birth, but was awkwardly absent for her. I don't think she ever knew how she fell out of favor. I have to wonder why she took the time to reach out to me, and if she might have needed me as much as I needed her during those months in the second grade.
Ms. Bertoci may have been my first crushed, but she’s still the one who pointed out the wonder of snowfall on that first day of kindergarten spring. I’ll always smile remembering that. Now, as a fellow adult member in the walking mistake generator club, I can cut her some slack.
30 March 2007
Talk Straight
As discussed previously, a new unsuck listen is Chapel Hill's The Old Ceremony. Kimplicated had the brazen audacity to ditch me as my concert consort for their return to Atlanta and Smith's Olde Bar. Wench is in China. The audacity! New recruit accompanied.
Not the turn out they deserved, but an appreciative audience all the same. Was bummed that the strings didn't come with - the cello and fiddle add such dynamic layers to the soundage.
The new CD hasn't struck me yet as a whole, but different songs bonk me over the head during their live performance. This time, it was Talk Straight.
"Talk straight, talk straight, so I can relate
Don't insinuate, please don't mumble"
Enunciation and diction are companions in Kernan the Grammarian's druthers bucket. Have to *really* work at *not* pronouncing stuff when singing in the band (Otter and Boone, your Twelve Hands and Feet ghosts haunt me). Malapropisms and misprounciations so very much suck - as discussed here in CountryMouse's recent The Peevies post.
Important too is clarity. To be understood. To be brave and say the tough things, with honesty. To praise the positive instead of our cultural propensity to bitch and moan.
"You may lose some friends, but baby, in the end
It's better to defend than to cower
And as for me
If you cut me I will bleed
But I've come to believe that the truth has a healing power
If you only talk straight"
Cheek-captured video was of the suck variety. YouTube not only yielded a professionally produced video, but it's for a cause:
Carolina for Kibera.
Run by Kenyans and advised by American and Kenyan volunteers, CFK's primary mission is to promote youth leadership and ethnic and gender cooperation in Kibera through sports, young women's empowerment, and community development. Additionally, CFK works to improve basic healthcare, sanitation, and education in Kibera.
Check it out now, funk soul brothah.
Not the turn out they deserved, but an appreciative audience all the same. Was bummed that the strings didn't come with - the cello and fiddle add such dynamic layers to the soundage.
The new CD hasn't struck me yet as a whole, but different songs bonk me over the head during their live performance. This time, it was Talk Straight.
"Talk straight, talk straight, so I can relate
Don't insinuate, please don't mumble"
Enunciation and diction are companions in Kernan the Grammarian's druthers bucket. Have to *really* work at *not* pronouncing stuff when singing in the band (Otter and Boone, your Twelve Hands and Feet ghosts haunt me). Malapropisms and misprounciations so very much suck - as discussed here in CountryMouse's recent The Peevies post.
Important too is clarity. To be understood. To be brave and say the tough things, with honesty. To praise the positive instead of our cultural propensity to bitch and moan.
"You may lose some friends, but baby, in the end
It's better to defend than to cower
And as for me
If you cut me I will bleed
But I've come to believe that the truth has a healing power
If you only talk straight"
Cheek-captured video was of the suck variety. YouTube not only yielded a professionally produced video, but it's for a cause:
Carolina for Kibera.
Run by Kenyans and advised by American and Kenyan volunteers, CFK's primary mission is to promote youth leadership and ethnic and gender cooperation in Kibera through sports, young women's empowerment, and community development. Additionally, CFK works to improve basic healthcare, sanitation, and education in Kibera.
Check it out now, funk soul brothah.
29 March 2007
A Time of Cleansing
Sunday as CarolinaMom and I sat gabbing, the first blooms opened on the fuschia azaleas outside the dining room window. 5 days later, they're in full bloom under a slender dogwood, as spied from Cheek's bedroom:
Many changes wrought in Cheekdom since the trees bared themselves just months ago. The season's blooms unfolding echo my own stretch to the warming light and clearing skies. Lazy Geisha put it in such fine prose, I can't compete. Enjoy it here, accompanied by pink azalea bloomage from my back yard:
"I have loved many; sometimes too much if such a thing is possible. I opened myself and gave myself freely and without question, and perhaps where I fell was in expecting that my love would be returned, and for a while it was, but it is the memory of that love which sustains me and now allows me to let it go, forever.
Spring for me is a time of cleansing. The death and quiet still of winter passes us by, and we rejoice in the celebration of life; and we remember those which we have loved, as we kiss them goodbye and turn away towards tomorrow."
Many changes wrought in Cheekdom since the trees bared themselves just months ago. The season's blooms unfolding echo my own stretch to the warming light and clearing skies. Lazy Geisha put it in such fine prose, I can't compete. Enjoy it here, accompanied by pink azalea bloomage from my back yard:
"I have loved many; sometimes too much if such a thing is possible. I opened myself and gave myself freely and without question, and perhaps where I fell was in expecting that my love would be returned, and for a while it was, but it is the memory of that love which sustains me and now allows me to let it go, forever.
Spring for me is a time of cleansing. The death and quiet still of winter passes us by, and we rejoice in the celebration of life; and we remember those which we have loved, as we kiss them goodbye and turn away towards tomorrow."
28 March 2007
The Enemy's Gate is Down
Cheek already adores xkcd.com - this young bloke is talented, sensitive, and funny as all get OUT! Am anxiously awaiting the t-shirts ordered from the site.
Yesterday I scribed about my favorite sci-fi book of all time, Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game. And then I find this on today's xkcd.
Ender's Game should be read and then immediately followed by Ender's Shadow, a parallel novel that delves into Bean, the even younger, even scrawnier member of Ender's jeesh. By immediately followed, I mean finish the last page of Ender's Game, close the book, and then open Ender's Shadow and commence.
Most urchins discover Ender's Game - boys, mostly - at age 12. At age 25, a colleague offhanded it to me after he'd read it. I've since savored the whole Ender and Ender's Shadow series, as well as most of his other stuff. Pastwatch: The Redemption of Christopher Columbus is also a great read.
Yesterday I scribed about my favorite sci-fi book of all time, Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game. And then I find this on today's xkcd.
Ender's Game should be read and then immediately followed by Ender's Shadow, a parallel novel that delves into Bean, the even younger, even scrawnier member of Ender's jeesh. By immediately followed, I mean finish the last page of Ender's Game, close the book, and then open Ender's Shadow and commence.
Most urchins discover Ender's Game - boys, mostly - at age 12. At age 25, a colleague offhanded it to me after he'd read it. I've since savored the whole Ender and Ender's Shadow series, as well as most of his other stuff. Pastwatch: The Redemption of Christopher Columbus is also a great read.
27 March 2007
More Sprungage: Dogwoods!
Dogwood trees are in full bloom. While I like the pink ones, their petals are smaller and less abundant. Below is the largest dogwood I've ever seen, and lives a mile away in the CheekHood.
Unsuck Listen List
This not an homage to any traditional idea of “best”. These are listens that struck me and continue to strike. For brevity’s sake, I listed the first thing I heard – subsequent unsucks usually followed.
* items have not yet stood the test of enough time. Let’s say, 10 years.
Crowded House’s Self-Titled Debut
Cocteau Twins’ Treasure
Counting Crows’ August and Everything After
The Cure’s Staring At The Sea
Dave Matthews Band’s Crush
Eddie From Ohio (their entire discography - have known them since before their first release)
Garden State Soundtrack
The Innocence Mission’s Self-Title Debut
*Jamie Collum’s Catching Tales
John Coltrane’s The Last Giant: The John Coltrane Anthology
John Wesley Harding’s Why We Fight
*Jonatha Brooke’s Steady Pull
Kansas’ Two for the Show
k.d. lang’s Ingenue
*KT Tunstall’s Eye to the Telescope
*Marc Cohn’s Burning the Daze
Michael Penn’s March
*Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil Soundtrack (with the exception of Clint Eastwood’s “Accentuate the Positive” – painful!)
*Mike Doughty’s Haughty Melodic
Miles Davis’ Birth Of The Cool
R.E.M.’s Murmur
Neil Finn’s Try Whistling This
*Norah Jones’ Come Away With Me
Prefab Sprout’s Two Wheels Good
*Space Cowboys Soundtrack
Speidel, Goodrich & Goggin’s Self-Titled Debut
Squirrel Nut Zippers’ Hot
Sting’s Dream of the Blue Turtles
The Sunday’s Reading, Writing and Arithmetic
Violent Femmes’ Self-Titled Debut
XTC’s Skylarking
* items have not yet stood the test of enough time. Let’s say, 10 years.
Crowded House’s Self-Titled Debut
Cocteau Twins’ Treasure
Counting Crows’ August and Everything After
The Cure’s Staring At The Sea
Dave Matthews Band’s Crush
Eddie From Ohio (their entire discography - have known them since before their first release)
Garden State Soundtrack
The Innocence Mission’s Self-Title Debut
*Jamie Collum’s Catching Tales
John Coltrane’s The Last Giant: The John Coltrane Anthology
John Wesley Harding’s Why We Fight
*Jonatha Brooke’s Steady Pull
Kansas’ Two for the Show
k.d. lang’s Ingenue
*KT Tunstall’s Eye to the Telescope
*Marc Cohn’s Burning the Daze
Michael Penn’s March
*Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil Soundtrack (with the exception of Clint Eastwood’s “Accentuate the Positive” – painful!)
*Mike Doughty’s Haughty Melodic
Miles Davis’ Birth Of The Cool
R.E.M.’s Murmur
Neil Finn’s Try Whistling This
*Norah Jones’ Come Away With Me
Prefab Sprout’s Two Wheels Good
*Space Cowboys Soundtrack
Speidel, Goodrich & Goggin’s Self-Titled Debut
Squirrel Nut Zippers’ Hot
Sting’s Dream of the Blue Turtles
The Sunday’s Reading, Writing and Arithmetic
Violent Femmes’ Self-Titled Debut
XTC’s Skylarking
My Latest Unsuck Crush
Ok. So there are BlogEntries you should know about, and also Blogs you should know about. Because occasionally, something *so* doesn't mostly suck that it's hard to pick your favorite facet. An unsuck crush, if you will.
Historically, first things Cheek-discovered as unsucking were books. Bit by Madeline L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time in the third grade, my love affair with science fiction was born. Octavia Butler. Orson Scott Card. Robert Heinlein. Frank Herbert. Julian May. Once I turned their pages, I kept turning. And turning. And re-turning, reading works again through the years. #1 fave is still Card’s Ender’s Game.
Books led to poetry. Poetry to plays. Plays back to fiction. Too many writers to list – a post for a rainy day. But there’s one book – and only one, so far – that found me *immediately* re-turning: Tom Robbins’ Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates. Run, don’t walk, and read it. When you do, be sure to come back and report if you have C.R.A.F.T. Club membership.
Unsucking Cheek seconds: musicians and the first time I heard one of their albums. Ok, ok, ok. CDs. Ok, ok, ok. Musical releases (there!, modern, only-known-digital young FREAKS!). First listens found me captured by the collection of songs, not just any one. Sure, there were standouts. But as a whole, I listened to the entire things over. And over. And over. (See next post if you’re curious.)
The test, tho', is time. I may think something is great, but does it last? Is it overdone? Does it become full of itself? Or does it only continue to have poignant meaning? New works are longed for, but once acquired, may or may not be enjoyed as readily. As wholesomely. Could be hit or miss. But overall, I keep seeking it out. I revel more than I rue. I rarely walk away.
So, back to B.Y.S.K.A.: there are those I peruse, and those I check daily. Ok, more than daily. I read them for withing: to connect with, identify with, groove with, learn with, laugh with. Before you leap to say “should it be ‘from’” - no, it’s *with*. Cuz this new fangled internet thang and its blog – sorry - blag spawn lets me interact, thanks very damn much.
There are many I like muchly and score high on my unsuck-o-meter – you know who you are. But please don’t be jealous of my new unsuck crush, CountryMouse. She’s earned this valentine. How, how, how do I choose my favorite post when betterer ones keep appearing?
Cheek’s CountryMouse unsuck list, dateline 27-Mar-2007 7:58 PM EDT:
1. Roll Call. One woman, many voices. I hope to meet them one day in concert.
2. Too Expensive. Every woman has been here. Or will.
3. The Peevies. She’s after Kernan the Grammarian’s heart with this compendium of malapropisms.
4. An Extrapolation. I was on the edge of my seat: *will* she?
5. Suburban Legends. The language, the lore; “bean blasphemy” at its best.
6. Walking a (Green) Mile in Someone Else’s Shoes. Stark honesty.
7. Have A Euphemistic Day. Foreplayfully good.
CountryMouse reminds me a lot of Hollis Gillespie. Hollis’ articles have appeared weekly in Creative Loafing for years. She contributes to NPR’s All Things Considered, collected her columns into 2 different books, and is working on bringing her tales to the small cable screen. I’m considering taking Hollis’ writing workshop this summer – I’ll be guarandamteed to pee my pants laughing, at a minimum.
CountryMouse, I reckon, and I believe rightly, that the wankosphere is your oyster. My glass is raised to your unsucky, non-lazy ass-mother of three self, and toasting to a blag future of only revel, no rue.
Historically, first things Cheek-discovered as unsucking were books. Bit by Madeline L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time in the third grade, my love affair with science fiction was born. Octavia Butler. Orson Scott Card. Robert Heinlein. Frank Herbert. Julian May. Once I turned their pages, I kept turning. And turning. And re-turning, reading works again through the years. #1 fave is still Card’s Ender’s Game.
Books led to poetry. Poetry to plays. Plays back to fiction. Too many writers to list – a post for a rainy day. But there’s one book – and only one, so far – that found me *immediately* re-turning: Tom Robbins’ Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates. Run, don’t walk, and read it. When you do, be sure to come back and report if you have C.R.A.F.T. Club membership.
Unsucking Cheek seconds: musicians and the first time I heard one of their albums. Ok, ok, ok. CDs. Ok, ok, ok. Musical releases (there!, modern, only-known-digital young FREAKS!). First listens found me captured by the collection of songs, not just any one. Sure, there were standouts. But as a whole, I listened to the entire things over. And over. And over. (See next post if you’re curious.)
The test, tho', is time. I may think something is great, but does it last? Is it overdone? Does it become full of itself? Or does it only continue to have poignant meaning? New works are longed for, but once acquired, may or may not be enjoyed as readily. As wholesomely. Could be hit or miss. But overall, I keep seeking it out. I revel more than I rue. I rarely walk away.
So, back to B.Y.S.K.A.: there are those I peruse, and those I check daily. Ok, more than daily. I read them for withing: to connect with, identify with, groove with, learn with, laugh with. Before you leap to say “should it be ‘from’” - no, it’s *with*. Cuz this new fangled internet thang and its blog – sorry - blag spawn lets me interact, thanks very damn much.
There are many I like muchly and score high on my unsuck-o-meter – you know who you are. But please don’t be jealous of my new unsuck crush, CountryMouse. She’s earned this valentine. How, how, how do I choose my favorite post when betterer ones keep appearing?
Cheek’s CountryMouse unsuck list, dateline 27-Mar-2007 7:58 PM EDT:
1. Roll Call. One woman, many voices. I hope to meet them one day in concert.
2. Too Expensive. Every woman has been here. Or will.
3. The Peevies. She’s after Kernan the Grammarian’s heart with this compendium of malapropisms.
4. An Extrapolation. I was on the edge of my seat: *will* she?
5. Suburban Legends. The language, the lore; “bean blasphemy” at its best.
6. Walking a (Green) Mile in Someone Else’s Shoes. Stark honesty.
7. Have A Euphemistic Day. Foreplayfully good.
CountryMouse reminds me a lot of Hollis Gillespie. Hollis’ articles have appeared weekly in Creative Loafing for years. She contributes to NPR’s All Things Considered, collected her columns into 2 different books, and is working on bringing her tales to the small cable screen. I’m considering taking Hollis’ writing workshop this summer – I’ll be guarandamteed to pee my pants laughing, at a minimum.
CountryMouse, I reckon, and I believe rightly, that the wankosphere is your oyster. My glass is raised to your unsucky, non-lazy ass-mother of three self, and toasting to a blag future of only revel, no rue.
26 March 2007
B.Y.S.K.A.
With props to WhiteNoise (a long overdue addition to the NutRoll) for his M.Y.S.K.A. (Music You Should Know About), there are also BlogEntries You Should Know About.
Scott Adams' post yesterday on The Meaning of Meaning did not suck. At all.
Scott Adams' post yesterday on The Meaning of Meaning did not suck. At all.
Atlanta: Sprung
"Every field wears a bonnet
With some spring daisies on it,
Even birds of a feather show their clothes off together.
Sun's gettin' shinery, to spotlight the finery,
Spring, Spring, Spring."
- Johnny Mercer, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers
The heckling can end. Been busy in CheekTown and writing is a guilty pleasure. Apologies for the Spring blag break.
Speaking of Spring, it is ON in Hotlanta. First blooming were the Redbud and Bradford pear trees, chased rapidly by cherry trees and forsythia. Saturday found the dogwoods and azaleas competing for first billing. Prettiest tulips yet were spied yesterday at a traffic light.
And so, with Spring comes its rites. Fat bees hum in slow stupor as they languidly lounge about the jasmine blooms draping down from the front porch lattice. Female cardinals build their nests with azalea twigs.
For female humans, toes are pedi-blinged, temperatures rise, necklines plunge, and razors fly as pale legs are landscaped for printemps display.
You cannot trust Cheek with sharp objects. She can barely sing and shake a tamborine at the same time! It took three SpongeBob band-aids to quell the welling blood. At least they glowed in the dark to light the way - Cheek's not known for grace, either.
(Props to Erin O’Brien and her Ides of March Eve Naked Couch Day pic for illustrating tasteful snaps.)
19 March 2007
The Cure for Loneliness ... Ain't It Da Truf?
Dilbert
I usually find Dilbert funny or sadly illustrative of professional experiences - but this was profound. And funny.
18 March 2007
Apostroholics
As CountryMouse puts it, we all have voices in our head. One of mine is Kernan the Grammarian. Kernan can be harsh, but Kernan also takes ultimato liberty with language, abusing it profusely into her own patois. Cheeknacular, if you will.
Never knew that I was also an “anonymous apostrophe flinger” – well, I guess I knew I was, but didn’t know there was a name for it. Good thing I’ve got StrongBad to set me straight (watch at least the beginning). I’ve received my charleyhorse. Run, don’t walk, and catch up on some StrongBad E-mail today.
Never knew that I was also an “anonymous apostrophe flinger” – well, I guess I knew I was, but didn’t know there was a name for it. Good thing I’ve got StrongBad to set me straight (watch at least the beginning). I’ve received my charleyhorse. Run, don’t walk, and catch up on some StrongBad E-mail today.
15 March 2007
The Ides of March
Loved this Get Fuzzy from last year - worthy of resurrection. Visited the Forum in Rome in the fall of 2005. Strolled along the Via Sacra, thinking of Julius Caesar walking the same path. His Curia Julia eventually housed the Roman senate. Peering into the tall, marble floored structure, tourists whispered. Reverence in hushed tones. Closed my eyes and imagined 300 senators conducting the business of the great empire of Rome.
Took Uncle Rick's advice (that's Rick Steves, natch - NEVER travel to Europe without his books!) to hear the Curia's incredible resonance. Spoke low, echoes bouncing back, then whistled a few bars of Walking on the Moon by the Police. Tourists looked askance and clucked tongues. It ain't no church, people - it was a place of DEBATE.
10 March 2007
Christmas in March?
Walked across the street to dinner last week and spied this in the parking lot:
Mind you, it's March. How *did* they keep the holiday tree going? Is the truck driver's to do list so long that he *just* can't get around to dealing with that pesky foliage messing about with his rear view?
Is this a Georgia thing? Captions accepted.
Mind you, it's March. How *did* they keep the holiday tree going? Is the truck driver's to do list so long that he *just* can't get around to dealing with that pesky foliage messing about with his rear view?
Is this a Georgia thing? Captions accepted.
Charlatan!
Get Fuzzy just gets betterer and betterer. Who knew Bucky had such depth? Darby Conley is *so* turning this English major / grammarian ON!
Happy Ass-Birthday, CountryMouse
Went to leave a comment on CountryMouse’s recent post, but its length beckoned to bloom here.
Cheek’s 40th year is finding that 40 is as 40 does. My Happy Bunny jammies are working hard to supplant the SpongeBob SquarePants ones in most favored status. I get my toes blinged on holidays (flags on the big toes for July 4th is the *best*!).
I'm still discovering new music, often educating my peeps' teenage urchins on good stuff, such as KT Tunstall, The Shins, Mat Kearney, The Old Ceremony, and Brother Shamus, while edumacating my ‘rents on new good stuff as well (Corinne Bailey Rae and Jamie Cullum).
I may not have my earth mother on like CountryMouse and SmashAsh, but borrowing peep’s urchins upon occasion yields a significant return on my immaturity investment. The past weekend with toddler E afforded the first opportunity to Playdoh and to playground picnic since forever ago. Squeezing a fresh Playdoh wad in your fingers is SO incredibly satisfying. Try it some time. It kicks Silly Putty's ass.
Still working on the grand gesture before the 40th next January. Am definitely leaning towards 40 small earthquakes rather than one large one. More to savor.
Here’s to your own upcoming 40th, CountryMouse. Sláinte. And as the Swede schooled me in singing happy birthday: “Hooray for CountryMouse! Hooray at last! Hooray for CountryMouse, she’s a horse’s ass!”.
Cheek’s 40th year is finding that 40 is as 40 does. My Happy Bunny jammies are working hard to supplant the SpongeBob SquarePants ones in most favored status. I get my toes blinged on holidays (flags on the big toes for July 4th is the *best*!).
I'm still discovering new music, often educating my peeps' teenage urchins on good stuff, such as KT Tunstall, The Shins, Mat Kearney, The Old Ceremony, and Brother Shamus, while edumacating my ‘rents on new good stuff as well (Corinne Bailey Rae and Jamie Cullum).
I may not have my earth mother on like CountryMouse and SmashAsh, but borrowing peep’s urchins upon occasion yields a significant return on my immaturity investment. The past weekend with toddler E afforded the first opportunity to Playdoh and to playground picnic since forever ago. Squeezing a fresh Playdoh wad in your fingers is SO incredibly satisfying. Try it some time. It kicks Silly Putty's ass.Still working on the grand gesture before the 40th next January. Am definitely leaning towards 40 small earthquakes rather than one large one. More to savor.
Here’s to your own upcoming 40th, CountryMouse. Sláinte. And as the Swede schooled me in singing happy birthday: “Hooray for CountryMouse! Hooray at last! Hooray for CountryMouse, she’s a horse’s ass!”.
Color Me Salsified: Another Food Cherry, Popped
Cheek disgraced. A criminal offense that it took just shy of 15 years living in Atlanta to discover the foodgasmic restaurant by the 'hooch, Canoe. Advance perusal of the menu promised choice dilemmas, and disappointment wasn't realized.
Decided to go tapas style from the First Flavors selections. Pistachio seared goat cheese to start - warm, creamy; only problem was its portion size, but that left room for other tastes. Next came a crab fritter from the specials list - 98% crab served on a bed of greens.
Finished with two firsts found in the scallop gratinee. As mentioned in Cheek passim, my palate is born again yet still shy about funky food textures. Previous scallop experiences landed in the ew! bucket due to rubberyness, but I was assured that overcooking was at fault and not its inherent nature.
Perfectly done, thinly sliced, served in a light cream sauce with applewood smoked bacon, crimini mushrooms, and salsify - a vegetable previously unknown to Cheek and her dinner companion, a self-described chef savant. Nice texture there as well – picked up the flavor of the sauce and bacon – yum. Captured the dish as proof for Yville Mom, who *still* doesn’t believe her daughter ate oysters in any form.
Selected the Brunello di Montalcino Sangiovese from the Sheena-worthy wine list (no f*cking Yellow Tail, and Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc at the ready!). Dessertgasm realized in the roasted banana cheesecake – graham cracker crust, almond brittle crunch jones, hot toddy ice cream topped with warm caramel sauce.
Looking forward to repeat offending as the weather warms and daylight waxes – the african squash soup with peekytoe crap & lime pot de crème as well as the pumpkin pie ravioli are calling Cheek’s name. *So* ready to Spring forward!
Decided to go tapas style from the First Flavors selections. Pistachio seared goat cheese to start - warm, creamy; only problem was its portion size, but that left room for other tastes. Next came a crab fritter from the specials list - 98% crab served on a bed of greens.
Finished with two firsts found in the scallop gratinee. As mentioned in Cheek passim, my palate is born again yet still shy about funky food textures. Previous scallop experiences landed in the ew! bucket due to rubberyness, but I was assured that overcooking was at fault and not its inherent nature.
Perfectly done, thinly sliced, served in a light cream sauce with applewood smoked bacon, crimini mushrooms, and salsify - a vegetable previously unknown to Cheek and her dinner companion, a self-described chef savant. Nice texture there as well – picked up the flavor of the sauce and bacon – yum. Captured the dish as proof for Yville Mom, who *still* doesn’t believe her daughter ate oysters in any form.
Selected the Brunello di Montalcino Sangiovese from the Sheena-worthy wine list (no f*cking Yellow Tail, and Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc at the ready!). Dessertgasm realized in the roasted banana cheesecake – graham cracker crust, almond brittle crunch jones, hot toddy ice cream topped with warm caramel sauce.
Looking forward to repeat offending as the weather warms and daylight waxes – the african squash soup with peekytoe crap & lime pot de crème as well as the pumpkin pie ravioli are calling Cheek’s name. *So* ready to Spring forward!
06 March 2007
The Rub
Ok, so there's proof that I wasn't inspired by Darby Conley with the One Scratch Stand post, as it was done before his Get Fuzzy strip today. But d*mn! Those two go togethah!
My English major self is groovin' on ShakesPug ... he's McDreamy.
My English major self is groovin' on ShakesPug ... he's McDreamy.
05 March 2007
Lucky Charms
Second fiddle holidays to most are relished in Cheekdom. Have you got yer Irish bling on yet?
Already have designs on the Irish pub in stumbling distance for St. Patrick's day festivities. Free Guinness glasses on Wednesdays all month - I am so! there. Just working on finding my Irish dream ...
let's start with your crushed velvet coat
laid across my bed
all that sexual energy tangled in burgandy
said until then you hadn't found me yet
said you hadn't found me just yet
- Irish Dream, Eddie From Ohio
Already have designs on the Irish pub in stumbling distance for St. Patrick's day festivities. Free Guinness glasses on Wednesdays all month - I am so! there. Just working on finding my Irish dream ...
let's start with your crushed velvet coat
laid across my bed
all that sexual energy tangled in burgandy
said until then you hadn't found me yet
said you hadn't found me just yet
- Irish Dream, Eddie From Ohio
28 February 2007
One Scratch Stand?
Beautiful day in Hotlanta. Daylight’s reach is extending and the mercury is rising. Front door ajar, sofa lounging as the evening falls. But, soft? What light through yonder window breaks? A shadow, slinking towards the glass door ajar, movement tripping the front porch motion light and drawing my eye from MacBook luminosity.
He’s short, dark, and handsome. A svelte black cat with a broad chest. Skittish as I opened the door, but two blown kisses and a low “mmm kiiiiiiirrrra?” found him stealing back. He was looking for love, and he picked the right door. His reward found: a scratch fest with heavy petting.
Cats that like – nay, DEMAND – furious love warms this feline fan in a furry glow. Our tryst successfully avoided detection by the abode’s resident cuddle muffins that wouldn’t appreciate his audacious assumption of Cheek’s person. Our brief first date didn’t afford pictorial capture, but something tells me he’ll be back.
I wasn’t expecting a new suitor on this, the last day of Cupid’s month. But if you keep your door open, serendipity can strike. That’s why I say, hey man, nice scratch. Nice scratch, man.
He’s short, dark, and handsome. A svelte black cat with a broad chest. Skittish as I opened the door, but two blown kisses and a low “mmm kiiiiiiirrrra?” found him stealing back. He was looking for love, and he picked the right door. His reward found: a scratch fest with heavy petting.
Cats that like – nay, DEMAND – furious love warms this feline fan in a furry glow. Our tryst successfully avoided detection by the abode’s resident cuddle muffins that wouldn’t appreciate his audacious assumption of Cheek’s person. Our brief first date didn’t afford pictorial capture, but something tells me he’ll be back.
I wasn’t expecting a new suitor on this, the last day of Cupid’s month. But if you keep your door open, serendipity can strike. That’s why I say, hey man, nice scratch. Nice scratch, man.
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