Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Is it just me?

Or does President Obama's shadow appear to be mockingly waving goodbye to Dubya in this picture?


Within a period of two months, two separate friends who have never met one another sent me cards. The first card has a picture of a beagle staring up to a table with a pie resting upon it. The second card has a picture of an unidentifiable dog staring up to a table, his attention fixed on a cupcake. I don't really know why cards with dogs staring at pastry laden tables remind people of me, but I'm gonna take it in stride.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Warning: Spoilers Abound

Not for nothing, but this made me giggle. Then I realized the same guy is responsible for the existence of "Two and a Half Men." Such is life.

Addendum: While I was aware of Chuck Lorre's vanity cards and other TV ventures (Dharma & Greg, omg!@**#!), I did a little more research on the guy after writing the above. Seems dude composed (along with Dennis Challen Brown) the music for the Teenage Mutant Ningja Turtles TV series in '87. How the mighty have fallen.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Snibben Story Series

Announcing a new Bear 'O Snark blog project! Several months ago - September 15, 2008 for those of the rigidly time-oriented among you - I was trying to come up with new ways to inspire ideas for short stories. One concept I wanted to try was to take honest answers given by a real person to random questions and then use those answers to create something that bordered between real-life and ridiculous-life. My lovely friend Hibben graciously agreed to take part in the endeavor, providing snippets of her life (Snibbens, if you will) for my creative inspiration. So, without further ado, please enjoy the first in a series of short stories based (extremely loosely) on the life of my good pal Hibben. Try to separate the reality from the fiction, if you dare.

Jewels of the Sole

"Meh, he's probably better off on his own anyway," Hibbany snarled as she caught sight of the whimpering young boy in her rear-view mirror. Her view of the lad sitting on the side of the road about 20 feet away from the now burning wreckage that had once been his family's minivan quickly grew smaller as she sped away in her green Jeep Wrangler. Hibbany typically would not have been overly bothered by a minivan cutting her off in traffic. On any other day, the traffic taboo might have provoked her to tighten her grip on the wheel and mutter something suitably road-ragey to herself (her go-to of the moment was: "I hate you, die in a fire."). Perhaps, in her most severe of moods, Hibbany might tap lightly, politely even, on the car horn, communicating the annoyance caused by the inconsiderate action at a volume that, possibly, would induce in her transgressor the urge to reform. But today was not a typical day. Today, she had committed vehicular manslaughter.

Pushing the accelerator to its limit, Hibbany's Jeep tore down the highway, eliciting stares from passersby (or, rather, those bypassed). Nearly missing her exit, Hibbany rapidly cut across 5 lanes of traffic, leaving a small 3 car pileup in her wake. She did not usually take this road; on any other Tuesday morning, Hibbany would not be on any road at all at this hour. On any other Tuesday morning,Hibanny would be at her desk scarfing down a Starbucks egg, cheese and turkeybacon sandwich. On any other Tuesday morning, Hibbany would be impeccably dressed in an outfit selected with the utmost care and patience ("I want to wear my white jacket; I bet my purple dress would look nice under it...ugh fuck the purple dress is dirty. Uhhhhh OK, I haven't worn that pink dress in awhile, that'll do. OK now gold or silver accessories? I feel like I wear a lot of gold, but my silver necklace is too long for this outfit. Fine I'll go with gold... ugh I wear this gold necklace too much. Oh I know! I haven't worn these pearls in awhile...why are my bangs doing that?") But it was not a typical Tuesday morning. On this Tuesday morning, Hibbany was still in her pajamas (flannel shorts andGW hoodie ) and semi-shoeless. That is, she had no shoes on her feet. She did, however, have a pair of adorable gold flats next to her on the passenger seat. Something was amiss.

A beam of sunlight struck the shoes and they glittered in response. This caught Hibbany's eye for a moment, further fueling her anger. The shoes, which until this Tuesday morning had been lovingly referred to as Hibbany's Princess Pumps (despite the fact that Hibbany was neither a princess nor were her flats pumps), were the source of Hibbany's seething rage on this quite atypical Tuesday morning. That was because it had been discovered on this particular Tuesday morning, as Hibbany was in the process of assembling her outfit, that the diamonds embedded in the souls of the shoes (given to Hibbany by Sir Elton John himself) had been stolen. Only one person could be responsible for this heinous offense: Duchess Myrna Minkoff.

Myrna had stolen something else from Hibbany the previous summer: her boyfriend, Thom. Thom had been a "student" in the US Naval Academy and was reasonably dreamy. Thom would write to Hibbany every day, even if they had seen each other or spoken on the phone. Despite the extensive practice, Thom was not very good at writing love letters. His vocabulary was simple, his language direct. The few times he tried to be romantic on paper, he wrote poems comparing their love to boats, the sea, harbors, various marine creatures and other aquatic entities with which he was very familiar. Still, a nice effort. After two years together, the duchess had lured Thom away with promises of his own naval command. Thom had assumed that Myrna had been referring to the Royal Navy of the United Kingdom; instead, he found himself the captain of her Myrna's father's best yacht. Sadly, with his fate already sealed following his brazen defection from the US Navy and an incredibly awkward breakup note to Hibbany (simply a postcard of DeLoutherbourg's The Defeat of the Spanish Armada), Thom had no recourse but to stay with the deceptive duchess, Myrna Minkoff. On the bright side, Myrna was always in a bathing suit.

In addition to her enjoyment of her father's yachts and her interest in ruining the careers of potential American naval heroes, Myrna had one additional pastime: jewel thievery. It wasn't about the money; her father had enough of that. It wasn't even for the thrill resulting from successfully sneaking past security systems of all varieties - in a bikini - unnoticed and emerging with a valuable treasure. Myrna's obsession: to become the duchess with the strangest and most stolen jewel collection in history. Myrna Minkoff had unique goals.

Most people would not have suspected average, everyday Hibbany to own diamonds that would be of much consequence. Most people would not have suspected average, everyday Hibbany to have interned for Sir Elton John. Most people would not have suspected average everyday Hibbany to have done such an impressive job while interning for Elton John that, upon completion of the internship, average, everyday Hibbany was given a pair of adorable gold (real gold) flats with pink diamonds cut into the shape of an E and a J, respectively, embedded in the souls. Most people, however, are not former US Naval Academy "students" who have dropped out of the US Naval Academy and now spend all their free time catering to the whims of a royal bikini-clad jewel thief. That is, Thom knew about Hibbany's shoe jewels.

Hibbany slammed on the brakes as her Jeep careened into a parking space at the marina. A quick scan of the docked boats revealed the probable yacht, a pink monstrosity yclept "Royalties." As Hibbany approached, her suspicions were all but confirmed as the air immediately surrounding the yacht permeated with the scent of liquor, perfume, marijuana and incense to cover up the smell of marijuana. Hibbany stealthily boarded the vessel, unwilling or unable to consider the dangers that could lie ahead. She presumed herself caught when she heard someone running in her direction. With nowhere to hide, Hibbany braced herself for discovery. To Hibbany's relief, the runner was simply an excessive partyer whose excessive partying had led to sudden and irrepressible sickness. Hibbany groaned as she watched the girl vomit over the side of the ship and then collapse on the deck and pass out. Approaching the unconscious wretch, Hibbany forgot her anger and purpose for a moment, leaning over to check the girl's breathing. "YOU!" Hibbany whirled around. She had not heard Myrna Minkoff emerge from below deck. "How did you get here? Security!" Before Hibbany could react, two men ascended from below and grabbed her.

Moments later, Hibbany had been redeposited on the pier and the Royalties had cast off. "No!" Hibbany shouted, vomit on her bare feet and tears streaming down her face. "No, my pink Elton John diamonds! I killed a family, and possibly others, with my reckless driving! Curse you, Myrna Minkoff ! If I ever get my hands on you, I'll choke the life out of you with your own bikini strings!" Defeated, a hunched over Hibbany slowly turned to trudge her way back to the parking lot. At the other end of the dock waiting for her, she could just make out the figures of two uniformed police officers. "Ohhhhh Jesus," Hibbany thought to herself, "I killed a family... and possibly others... and just threatened a duchess..." And with that, Hibbany dove into the water and attempted to escape almost certain incarceration.

Several weeks later, Hibbany finally made bail and was released back out into society. As she arrived home, exhausted and entirely over neon orange jumpsuit ensembles, Hibbany sulked over to her mailbox, now overflowing with bills, Victoria's Secret catalogs and, ironically, several jury summonses. Hibbany's eyes started to water as she felt the full effect of Myrna's Elton John shoe diamond theft. She was about to break down into all out sobs on her front lawn when her tear-filled eyes zoomed in on the one piece of mail that was neither bill nor lingerie catalog nor command to perform one's civic duty. Curious and sniffly , Hibbany opened the small manila envelope with no return address. A tiny Zip-lock baggie held the commandeered shoe diva diamonds! There was no note, but Hibbany knew who had returned her treasured shoe jewels. The faint aroma of salt and moisture clung to the envelope. Perhaps it was the smell of seawater. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the scent of the heartsick tears shed by a broken man taking his one last stand against a bikini clad jewel stealing duchess. Hibbany would never know for sure. But now, at least, she could use the diamonds to pay her legal fees.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Friday, January 9, 2009

Mind-Control Games

According to a USA Today report, we may soon be seeing the mass-marketing of brain-to-computer products in the form of "mind-control games". These games translate brain-wave activity into physical action and will further assist children in the quest to play while remaining as motionless as possible.

I do love Fun Dip and Cherry Coke...

I wish LFO had written a song about liking girls who wear Urban Outfitters. I think that would've sent a better message to the country at large. And it probably would've boosted my self-esteem at an important developmental juncture.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

CNN "special" report

CNN reports that CNN journalist and CNN chief medical correspondent, Dr. Sanjay Gupta, has been approached by President-elect Barack "CNN" Obama to serve as Surgeon General, according to sources at CNN.