I guess that means I'm not committed, or maybe I'm just a traitor to everything.

It has come to my attention that if I do not agree with a musician, actor, artist, etc., I am not supposed to like what they do, or buy what they do, or see what they do, or pay any sort of attention to what they do.  I am, however, supposed to get irrationally mad, make all sorts of comments about them and the people who do like them, and destroy everything I have that pertains to them.  Okay, see, I'm not going to do that.  If I liked them in the past, then I will still like that past.  If I got enjoyment out of the product in the past and still do, I'm not going to suddenly turn my back on what I liked just because things have changed.  The person who made it really won't care one way or the other, and in all honesty never knew I liked it and doesn't even know that I exist.  The truth is, in the grand scheme of things, I don't matter and never did.  Therefore, the only person I'm hurting with a ban is myself and I find that a mite bit stupid, don't you?  You're right, you're right, I'm living in a dream world, but I like it here...most of the time anyway, and it's where I've got all of my stuff and I really don't want to have to pack...

Wait, what was I talking about again?

Anyway, back to the topic.  Just because I don't agree with someone, it doesn't mean that I'm going to stop buying what they're selling if I still like it, and if it turns out that I don't like it anymore, well, then I wouldn't be buying it whether or not I agreed with them.  I guess when you get right down to it, for most things my mind just separates the work from the person, and if I still like it, I'll buy, and if I don't, I won't, which I guess is what I just said in the previous sentence.  Oh well.  Now, I know that some people will say that because I am still buying it, I am supporting that person and what they believe and what they say, and that might be true.  That percent of a cent that they'll get from me might buy a consonant or a vowel, and I can only hope that they use it wisely, but in reality I'm not buying whatever it is they're selling for them, I'm buying it for me.  That's not to say that the thought of them won't cross my mind, it just probably won't be the deciding factor for whether or not I make that purchase.  Cold hard cash will.  Besides, I've held enough grudges, I don't need to add any more to the list.  Frankly, I think I lost it somewhere and I don't want to have to write it up again.  Some things deserve to be lost even if they're not quite ready to be forgotten.

Merry Christmas.

That is all.

I finally figured it out.

The quote in my head came from The Twilight Zone episode "A Piano in the House."



(There used to be a better video here with the whole episode, but apparently it's been taken down.  However, I did find this one.  We'll see how long it lasts.)

I guess I condensed the final scenes into one in my head, but this is definitely where it came from.
Boy, am I glad it wasn't Sailor Moon...again.

No, Benny!

Not the ragtime!

I had no idea this was a Christmas song.

What I've realized, after repeated listenings, is that Mannheim Steamroller's version of "Deck the Halls" can easily be turned into an epic song about Mary and her little lamb.

Now that you've heard it, just try reading this without singing along :):

Mary had a little lamb.

Little, little lamb.

A little lamb!

(And if I have enough time and boredom, I'll write the rest of it up, too.)

I bet they regret turning down that sheet music.

Lately at work, they've been playing a version of "White Christmas" in which the singers don't sing any words.
Therefore, in the spirit of giving, I've taken it upon myself to come up with some lyrics:

We forgot the words to this song.
We thought we knew them but we don't.
So we'll have to mumble,
And please don't grumble.
This is the only job we've got.

That should get you through the first part.  Repeat as necessary.
(I hope they like them, and if I have more time, I'll come up with a few more.)

It's also the bad news.

The good news is that I finally know what happens to that character.
He no longer just sort of disappears.
And now that I do, I am so very sorry, but it's integral to the plot.
Still, sorry.

Apparently, his name is Rodney.

But I know him better as a cuddly reindeer.
(Not to be confused with the book.)
He's the first one I've bought on my own.
The others came from Burger King and live with my parents.
I'll admit, he was an impulse purchase, but was definitely worth it.
After all, how often do you see a cuddly reindeer in an earflap cap?
(How often do you see cuddly reindeer at all?)

So it's almost Christmas.

I guess.
At least the shopping is done.
I'm just not feeling it this year.
But I'm still trying.
Maybe it'll have taken by the 25th.
(And if it hasn't, well I guess it will be too late to do anything about it.)

Fun, just fun.

Watch yourself, old man.

His father is not going to like this.
And the less said about his mother, the better.
Of course, first they have to find out.
But they will.

Thus ends our tale,

And what a magical journey it's been.

(But now it's time to return to Chicago and see what that other wizard named Harry has been up to.)

Do you think they'd be friends, or would they just try to kill each other?

Sometimes Voldemort reminds me a lot of Thulsa Doom from Conan the Barbarian.  I think that's why I currently have this little quote snippet running laps in my head, courtesy of everyone's favorite shapeshifting cult leader:

"You broke into my house, stole my property, murdered my servants, and my PETS!  And that is what grieves me the most!  You killed my snake."

You know, if those two ever met, if they didn't immediately try to kill each other, and if it didn't interfere with their various nefarious plans, I think they'd get along rather well.

Then again, maybe not.

(There's also the problem that they're both dead, but you never know...)

You're just realizing this now?

You know what?  Voldemort is kind of a jerk.

But I think Bob would be pleased.

The tree I just drew has a serious hitch in its giddy-up.
Still, I might just keep the crooked little dear.

(Yes, I'm still drawing those snowy trees.  Only three more to go, though.)

But where's the heart?

I think I've done something wrong.
According to the stores, it looks like I should be decorating using one of two color combinations:
Red and white, or silver and white.
I've got those colors in my decorations, but I've also got a lot more because that's what Christmas is about.
A splash of color in a snow-white world.
Not that there's anything wrong with a color coordinated tree.
Or using only a few colors.
Or being all sophisticated.
It's just not necessarily my cup of tea.
Therefore, I've come to the conclusion that I prefer the less dignified Christmas.
The homey Christmas.
The handmade Christmas.
The Christmas where you drag out the art projects you made in elementary school.
And the ancient ornaments, some of which might be a little broken, or cobbled together, but are still good.
And the neat looking things that you just had to buy because they made you laugh in the store.
You know, the Christmas with heart.
Then again, I am one of those people who prefer the multicolored lights and a good helping of tinsel.
I guess I'm just not cut out for the sophisticated Christmas.
That's okay.
A sophisticated Christmas is no place for an octopus or a t-rex, and it wouldn't be Christmas without them.

What about first minute shopping?

I keep hearing about last minute gift ideas.
You mean I was supposed to have started shopping already?
And now be almost finished?
Surely not.
Surely I'm supposed to be starting now.
Or maybe waiting another week or so.
We're nowhere near last minute gift idea time.
That's what you call the day or two before Christmas.
Isn't it?

Technically, it was right.

The only fortune that's ever come true was the one that said my current plants would succeed.
I think it was a typo.
Still, all of my plants are alive.
Even Frank.

Sorry champ, but perhaps you should look in this mirror.

The kid who just asked his mom if she enjoyed being conventional and uniform is the same kid wearing baggy shorts, skater shoes, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap set daringly aslant.
(Maybe he thinks that the Justin Bieber hair cut is the thing setting him apart.)

Shouldn't you also be wearing curlers and a housecoat?

The fact that your slippers have hard soles doesn't mean you should wear them when you go shopping.

I've got the idea.

I just need the motivation.
Soon, though.
Soon.
Now where's that dictionary...

I are a robot.

I will say this once and then not speak of it again...maybe.  I am morally opposed to stores opening at midnight on Black Friday, and don't even get me started on the ones opening on Thanksgiving night.  I think that it is disrespectful to the employees and is essentially telling them that they do not matter and that they do not deserve to have a holiday.  I also think that there's no reason to and that sure, if you don't, people will be mad because they can't buy something that they're just going to return anyway, but frankly, people don't need reasons to be mad these days.  They just are.  They don't need any excuses to act like spoiled children and treat employees like they aren't really people.  They just do.  And if stores open at midnight (and at least one seems to be opening at 10 on Thanksgiving), then what's to stop them from just being open on Thanksgiving and saying, hey, find time to get with your family some other day...oh wait, you can't ask for any days off between now and Christmas.  Oh well.  How do you feel about Thanksgiving in February?

(And before you get up on your high horses, I have had to work on Thanksgiving and it basically ruined the day and I missed out on my family and now that four out of the eight people who were there are now dead, they're memories that I'll never get back or get to have again.)
(And frankly, if they do that, who's to stop them from being open until midnight on Christmas Eve?  Family, it's overrated, right?  I'm not actually supposed to have one, right?  Holidays are for other people.  I guess I missed that memo.)

No, I don't want to save.

Not when, upon opening the file, I see that the three pages I just wrote are now blank when I know full well that they shouldn't be, considering that they're in the middle of the file.  So no, when I'm asked if I want to save the changes when I haven't even changed anything, or typed anything for that matter, I don't want to save those changes.  I want to see if closing the file and opening it again will give those lost words back to me.  That part was hard enough to write the first time.  I don't want to write it again.

(Thankfully, it worked.  I think it's time to backup, not that I haven't been all along.)

Happy Nigel Tufnel Day!

Break out the green skeleton shirts and turn it up to eleven.

Wish I'd seen that.

They're called sundogs, or parhelia if you want to get technical.
I just think they're neat.

(And if you haven't been checking out Astronomy Picture of the Day, you should start now.)

I really didn't want to do this.

But I thought it was too funny to miss...and if I put it off, I'd forget.

I'm going mad, I tell you, mad!

A quote has lodged itself in my brain and refuses to leave.  I don't know where it's from, but I have a feeling that I am in possession of the movie/television show it comes from.  The worst part is, I don't really even have a clear idea of where it happens, so I can't pin it down.  All I know is that I think it takes place within a group of people, and it happens right after someone really freaks out and asks them all why they aren't laughing and then, when someone finally speaks up, they say, in a very calm, low, maybe even sinister (though that one could just be me) voice, "You're just not funny anymore."  I have no idea where it's from, but it's been running laps in my head for a while now.  I hope it goes away soon, or that I remember where it comes from and can put an end to this madness.

(And as of this moment, I'm not even sure that that's the exact phrase seeing as how all my searches have failed.)

Unless it tastes like pie.

I'm starting to think that pumpkin juice isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I think I'm going to be sick.

Last night, at 11:30 p.m., they played the first Christmas song at work.

(For the curious, it was "Santa Baby" by Madonna.  They could have at least picked a good song.)

I think I'd rather stay dirty.

The worst place to be caught in a zombie invasion would be in the middle of a shower.  First of all, you're in a tiny room, generally one with no, or very small, windows, so you're essential trapped, and one can only do so much with a plunger or toilet brush, and unless you have a straight razor, there isn't much to use to fight with, unless the zombie is deathly afraid of spearmint.  Second, you'll be wet, and while that might seem like an advantage in that you'd be slippery and the zombie would have trouble catching you, it also might mean that you could slip and fall, or be caught and slip out only to crash into the wall.  Basically, it seems like a good way to prolong the suffering rather than shorten, or avoid it.  Third, you're not going to be wearing any clothes, and while that fact might not matter initially, later, like less than a minute after you're safe, you'll probably become pretty self-conscious about it, and since you were just attacked by a zombie it isn't like you can just pop into the bedroom and get some decent attire.  Nope, you'll pretty much be stuck in your birthday suit.  You might have time to grab a coat on the way out, but honestly, how many people have long coats just sitting by the door?  Then there's the weather.  It could be cold, but it's not like you could stay in the house, what with a zombie in there and all, unless you've left a baseball or cricket bat right outside the door and all you need to do is to get to it and get rid of the zombie, but really, why wouldn't you have taken it into the bathroom with you?  Even if you did, though, bathrooms can be tight, so you might not be able to get a good swing off, which means that you still might end up zombie chow.  I guess really the only way to get cleaned up, if that's what you want, though I'm still a little torn about whether zombies have a good sense of smell, or are attracted to the scent of spring flowers or melon, is to employ the buddy system and have someone guard the door.  That way, if the zombie does attack, they'll either get the person on the other side of the door first, and maybe, just maybe, that person will be enough and the zombie will shamble off with a full tummy to someplace else, or they'll be dead.  Either way, you'll be clean.  If that's what you really want.

So what's next?

Vampires seem to be running out of steam.
They're turning into yesterday's news.
Soon they won't be nearly as visible as they once were.
At least, that's my opinion.
And sooner or later, zombies will join them.
Sure, they're hot right now, but sooner or later people are going to get tired of seeing them.
So who will be the next monster to take the reins?
Werewolves?
Frankenstein?
A mummy?
No, wait.
That one already has a series.
How about Bigfoot?
It has been a while since Harry and the Hendersons.
Maybe it's due for a comeback.
Me, I'm rooting for a Creature from the Black Lagoon type monster.
I think that one's due, and most people seem to forget about the poor guy.
Yeah, that's what I want to see.
I probably won't, though.
I don't think it's safe enough.
But I think that with the right story, it could be pretty darn neat.
So here's to you.
See you on the big screen, Gill-Man.

But probably not.

Happy Halloween!

Go forth and be scary.
(But not scary as in "That guy should be arrested," scary.  Nobody needs that.)

I don't trust this guy.

But I trust him even less because I know what he's done.
Oh, you two...

I'd rather not buy it twice.

I think that if you already own the album, you should be able to get the music videos for free.
You shouldn't have to buy the song again just because you like the video.
There should be a way to do it, either by including a code in the booklet, or by giving the music program the ability to find the song itself.
And yes, I do realize that the producers and whatnot who create the video would probably not go for this at all since it would essentially be giving away their work for free, unless the person didn't already own the song and just wanted to buy the video.
(And yes, I also realize that there will be those who don't buy the album and still get their hands on it and therefore get the video for free, but they were going to get that album for free anyway.)

The title of that file no longer makes sense.

The war happened before this story started,
And I don't think there's one in this book.

I played last year, just to see if I could win.

I don't think I'll play this year.
I keep running into walls.
And nameless people.
And plot holes.
Great, big plot holes.

It's only fair.

Every month it seems like there's something new that you can die from, or some new cause to take up arms for (well, not literally take up arms for, but you know what I mean), and many, if not all of these, have their own ribbon.  Yet, if you ask people, they'd probably come up with three right away (pink, red, and yellow), and then be at a loss to come up with anything else, possibly throwing out random colors but not knowing the causes associated with them. I think that there's an opportunity here to get the word out, and make a little money.  Stores already sell things for breast cancer awareness and whatnot, so why not have a rotating collection of products promoting whatever that month is about.  They wouldn't even have to go all out on the t-shirts and stuff, but could focus on things like pens, pencils, watches, ribbon pins, ties, bracelets, charms, beads, or other small items where the proceeds would go to that specific foundation/cause. That way, the cause/issue would be brought the forefront, if only for a month, and let's face it, some of these things really need curing, or at least supporting. You could also probably depend on there being at least one group of people who, if the pin, charm, or bead route was taken, would make it their mission to collect them all.  Anyway, it's just a thought, and as the title says, it's only fair.  One cause should not rule them all.

Battleship has a lot to live up to.

The Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots movie was much better than I thought it would be.

Especially after the one robot got his block knocked off because well, I would have been very disappointed if it hadn't happened at least once.

All in all, I had a very good time watching the Rocky IV robot movie.

What?

You didn't see the connection?

It's there, and you could probably say that parts of the other Rocky movies are too.

That, and Thunderdome.

Huh.

I guess on second thought, this movie really was made for me.
Plus, there was that one scene where the robot did The Robot...

(I may just have to own this one.)

I won't say that life isn't fair.

I'll only say that it should have warned me before I spent all of that money.

But I guess that's life, too.

We're going to need a lot of plywood. And nails. Lots of nails.

Upon serious reflection, I have come to the conclusion that my apartment is ill-equipped to withstand a zombie invasion.

(Thanks a lot, The Walking Dead. I feel so safe now. Not that it'll stop me from watching. I just have to finish the bomb shelter first :).)

You know it's only a game, right? Right?

People take things way too seriously these days.

Sports.

Politics.

Different ideas.

All so that they can find another way to hate someone else.

(Tell me it isn't true.)

(I wish it wasn't. Really I do.)

(I guess that's why tomorrow I'll be wearing a shirt chosen specifically because it is a color not found on the uniforms of either team.)

(I just don't want to deal with the morons who feel the need to point things out and make themselves feel superior by making others feel inferior.)

(You know who you are.)

(I hope.)

Of course he would know.

That was the point of the letter, wasn't it?

A few more pieces have fallen into place.

And a few more have fallen off the board.

I hope I don't need them.

But if I do, I'll just look on the floor.

Still wrestling with those darn snowy trees.

But on the plus side, I finally know what Santa's going to look like.

Puppy!!!

That's why I'm loading up on box sets and old movies.

(And really, anymore these days, aren't they all?)

I don't think you're saying what you think you're saying.

Store songs. The background noise of the shopping experience. The same tunes that seem to pop up wherever you go. How annoying they can be. Confusing too. But only if you've actually taken the time to listen to the lyrics, which, for the most part, most shoppers probably haven't, which is probably for the best. Otherwise, I'm not sure that they'd want to shop anymore. But hey, at least we've got some research that proves that these songs work, or at least seem to. Still, if you hear them enough times, there comes a point where you start to actually listen to the lyrics, and it is at this point when you, or at least I, start to wonder just why they picked that particular song, and if the picker or the songwriter knew what they were doing when it was picked or created. I hope the writer did, but you never know. Sometimes somebody sees something one way and someone else sees it another. It happens. Trust me on that. That's why I've decided to narrow in on three of the songs that always make me wonder just what was going on when they were chosen. I'm sure there are more. I know there are more, but these three always stand out to me for one reason or another, so for the sake of brevity, I'm sticking with them, unless I go into work today and another one catches my ear.

The first of the tragic trio that I've selected is "I Will Be Waiting," by Daphne Willis. On the outside, this song has a nice upbeat tune. It's bouncy and unassuming and just makes you want to walk around. At least it did at first. Then, after the nine hundredth time hearing it, I started paying attention and things got a little crazy, or at least the song did. Maybe I'm wrong, though. Maybe there really is nothing more romantic than locking up your significant other, but really, after listening to it enough times, I can't help but picture someone in a dark house, waiting by a door for someone else to come inside, and once they do, the door will be slammed shut, the lock clicked into place, and escape impossible. Cheery. Then again, maybe I'm listening to it the wrong way. Maybe it's just about the loss of a relationship. Maybe it's just about that longing for things to go back to happier times. Then again, maybe I'm right and it is kind of creepy, but not outwardly creepy. Maybe it's just another song following in the grand tradition of "Every Breath You Take," by The Police. On the outside it seems like a lovely song of devotion. On the inside it's a little darker and creepier.

The second member of the trio is "Papercut," by Apollo Drive. Yet another song about love and loss (I think there just might be a theme going on here). So we've got our singer and he's sad. Very sad. Very, very sad. Get the boy a box of tissues. Obviously, he's just broken up with his best gal and not taking it very well. Okay, I'm fine with that. It happens. You're sad. I get it. You're getting a little melodramatic there, but okay, the emotions might still be a little raw, so it's understandable. That understanding starts to fade when the song reaches the chorus and things start to get weird, particularly the lyric that goes "Oh I miss how it feels when we touch just like a paper cut." Now, I don't know about you, but I know I love to get paper cuts, especially when I can get them from those thicker cardboard-like papers they sometimes use for tags. Blood. Nothing says I love you like blood. Right? Hmm. The jury may still be out on that one. No wait. Actually, I don't miss paper cuts. In fact, I try to avoid them at all costs. They hurt, they bleed, and they ruin a good day (and possibly a good shirt or pair of pants). Sorry sir, I guess you lost me there, and I'm starting to think that you don't miss that girl as much as you want us to believe. In fact, I think you just want some attention. I think I know just the girl for you. How do you feel about locks?

Finally, the third member of the trio is a rather popular gal with a rather popular song you've probably heard many, many times...whether you wanted to or not: Taylor Swift and her song, "Love Story." Okay, I get it. You're young, you're in love, and nothing is going to keep you apart. You're just like Romeo and Juliet (but you're not that song). Personally, I wouldn't want a relationship to be that song. After all, you do remember what happens at the end of the play, don't you? And you do realize that that play was a tragedy? Or did you somehow miss the last scene and the line about how "never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo"? Personally, I'd rather not have a love like that. I like my life, for the most part anyway, and I'd like to see where it's headed. I don't think Taylor wants it either though, since the very end of the song spins away from the play to a happier, livelier ending, which probably helped sales because I don't think the song would have been as popular had it ended with the young lovers killing themselves. (Parents' groups would have probably gotten a little angry, too.)

So, what have we learned? A bouncy or inoffensive tune can hide a rather dark message. Kind of like those teenage tragedy songs. You just kind of bop along to the beat, not really listening to the lyrics, or only listening to a smattering, and think "Hey, this is a fun song." Then one day you actually listen to what's going on and you think "Hey, that's not what I thought this was about. That's actually kind of messed up. Oh well, I still like the song. Tra la la." Okay, perhaps you don't add the tra la la, and perhaps you even stop listening to the song, or not, but still, whenever you hear it, you remember that it isn't really just about sunshine, rainbows, lollipops, and puppies. (Except for maybe Taylor Swift's, though she does have that song about how she broke up with her emo boyfriend, but that one's not trying to be anything other than what it is: depressing, which makes me wonder why it's also a store song. Who knows, maybe a depressing song makes people buy more in order to get back those good feelings, so it all evens out in the end...until the credit card statement arrives.). All in all, each of these songs is kind of like a kitten. All cute and fluffy on the outside, but inside its hiding its claws and fangs, waiting, if only innocently and not knowing any better, to bring on the pain. Boy, I can't wait to go to work tomorrow.

And so it begins.

It's time to start reading about that other wizard named Harry.

The one who doesn't live in Chicago.

It cannot be unseen.

The phrase best describing the beads on a particular shirt "designed" by a particular celebrity: Upscale macaroni art.

Oh, Endor.

There seems to be an awful lot of fake fur this season, and so much of it looks like Ewok.

Except for those purses that look like Tribbles.

Exhibit A: The recent changes made to Facebook

Why there will probably never be a one dollar coin.

My apologies for the recent lack of posts.

I've been abroad.

(And doesn't that just sound all uppity and fancy schmancy?)

If you can't find it,

Make it.

But be warned, you might have to make it twice.

I did.

The first change purse could hold change, and nothing else.

It was a frog hair too small to hold a card without bending said card.

But it works great as an earbud case, which I also needed, so everything worked out in the end.

As Bob Ross said, "We don't make mistakes. We have happy accidents."

Sure I can, but should I?

Should anyone really make bacon chocolate chip cookies?

Almost healed.

Which is good considering that the mouthwash is almost gone.

If it looks like a duck...

If your child is covered in spots that are probably not bug bites, do not take them to the store and then, while in line, look down at said child and say, "I should have taken you to the doctor yesterday."*

*The above is a true story and the reason why I used hand sanitizer and then washed my hands with two kinds of soap before reapplying the hand sanitizer.

Surgery, anyone?

(And if it turns out to be a duck, and you're holding a slice of bread, just give it to the duck before it takes it from you.)

I know it shouldn't matter.

But this dental work has really put a damper on my blogging.

(And I didn't think that you wanted to know all of the fascinating things I've been learning.)

Don't tell Cobra.

The Smurfs are everywhere.

(I love being greeted by things like this when I turn on the TV. It always makes me smile.

Though it does make me wonder just what the Smurfs are up to, and why Cobra would be so concerned.)

I guess I can't die.

I have far too many books to read.

(And more than a few to write.)

Curse you...whoever you are.

Another scene, another character in need of a name.

Make that two.

Maybe three.

Okay, four, tops.

I think.

Dang.

I'm not sure how to take this.

The fortune said that my luck would change completely.

But it didn't specify in what direction.

Or what it believed my luck to be at the time.

I'm a little concerned.

(And dropping that open box of cereal sure didn't help.)

Poor Frank.

He's had a bit of a setback.

I hope he's going to be okay.

It's official.

I have tomatoes.

And that's it.

(The logs don't count.)

It's a good thing that I don't have to depend on this garden for food,

otherwise I don't believe I'd make it through the fall...or the end of summer.

Some days it's harder than others.

The original can be found here.

(Because the link doesn't seem to want to work with the picture.)

Oh, what the heck.

Here's Claude.

(I think he was starting to feel neglected :).)

Alive and kicking.

Frank has weathered the heat wave and is still hanging in there.

I hope that's a good sign.

(And yes, that would be Claude at the bottom, trying to worm his way into the picture.)

I will never say "the Apple software" the same way again.

If you've never heard Richard Dreyfuss read portions of the Apple iTunes EULA, you should rectify that now.

In retrospect,

Writing about digging graves and burying bodies might not have been the best thing to do before leaving for work.

Would you like to update? No.

Every time iTunes gets an update, the first time I open it up, I have the irrational fear that it will have undone all of my careful sorting and organizing, and that I'll have to do it all over again. Maybe it's because I remember the one time that it did actually throw things out of whack and all of the trouble it caused. (And no, I would not like to Ping about it.)

Oh, Dr. Jeff.

The comic is not called Mary Cory.

Yesterday I had a garden.

Then it rained.

At least the tomatoes survived.

(Perhaps I should name them.)

I guess it's a good thing I've got that backlog of books to read.

Borders is toast, and soon the only stores in that little shopping plaza will be Michael's and Bed, Bath and Beyond. On either side will be the two empty holes that once held Borders and Circuit City. I suppose I could go to Barnes & Noble now. I suppose. But their history section isn't very good, at least not in the nearest store. So I'm going to have to find another source for my history books once Borders finally closes, and while some people would say that this is what happens when you keep giving out coupons and such, I'm going to come right out and say that those coupons made me spend more than I would have, and made me buy more than I would have, and if we're going to go on about coupons and such, then someone should also mention Kohl's, though I'm not going to. This isn't about them. It's about Borders.

I'm going to miss Borders when it finally closes. I'm going to miss wandering around and looking at books, finding something I hadn't even planned on buying, and wishing for all of the books that I want to buy but just didn't have the money for. I'm also going to miss the people because they knew me and I knew them. Now that I know it's going to close, my mind is having a little panic attack, going through all of the books that I wanted to buy but didn't, all of the CDs that I didn't buy but that I know are still sitting there waiting for me and my coupon to appear, and all of the books and things that will be gone and that I know aren't waiting at Barnes & Noble. Don't get me wrong, I like Barnes & Noble too. I've bought stuff there, and someday I might even become a member, but I'll have to think about it because that store is on the other side of town and this one was only about a five minute or so drive away, right next to other stores that I had to go to anyway.

I suppose all things must come to an end, but I had kind of hoped that it wouldn't be so soon. At least not until I'd finished buying those books. And yes, I know that there's also the Internet, but really, there are a lot of books that I bought only after seeing them on the shelves or flipping through them. A lot of books that were bought just because I happened to come upon them. A lot of books that I wouldn't have found on the Internet because the Internet, though it promises so much variety and so much more, is very direct and targeted and doesn't lend itself to roaming because you always have to put in something to search for, which makes stumbling upon something all the more difficult. After all, if you don't know that you're looking for something, how can you find it when you're asked to identify what you're looking for? Ah well, I shall survive. I'll just have to find another bookstore. Goodbye Borders. I'm going to miss you.

The worst time to have an idea is two minutes before your break ends.

Guess what happened yesterday.

But did I manage to get the words written in those two minutes and get back to work on time?

You bet I did.

And so it begins.

The first thousand words have been thrown down.

(And boy, do I feel sorry for anyone who has to deal with the guy kicking things off.)

(No, it's not that he's kicking puppies or setting fires or punching orphans or doing anything terribly bad. He's just...being himself.)

Does that mean he's also loose?

Every time I see the local news promo where they ask me to feel the magic of the new Harry Potter film, I can't help but be reminded of the ThunderCats theme song. I hope I'm not the only one, though I might be the only one who feels the need to actually sing it out loud.

It's not that I name all of my plants.

Only the ones that get sick.

That's why there's a Frank.

And a Claude.

(But don't worry about him. He got better.)

Hanging in there.

Frank is still alive and doesn't appear to be on the decline.

Here's hoping that he keeps improving.

(And be sure to tune in for next week's Frank Watch Update, where hopefully nothing much will have happened.)

Now the writing can really begin.

Unless I decide to change your name.

Again.

The weather could change before you finish watching this.

Take that chance.

Plot Device from Red Giant on Vimeo.

We've hit a small snag.

I have no idea what your name is.

(Which wouldn't be a problem if you weren't kicking off this here book thing.)

(And no, Bob, Tom, Bill, or Fred, will not work.)

Quack. Quack.

All of my ducks are now in a row.

Time to start writing.

So I guess it's sort of there.

The beginning parts of the timeline came together pretty well.

The ones toward the end of the middle, not so much as things started to kind of fall apart.

But the few at the end are in great shape and right where they should be.

No one ever said this had to make sense.

Least of all me.

Looks like we're going to need another Smeagol.

What is the Eye of Sauron doing with Oprah?

Does that mean he made a backup Ring just in case?

Does Gandalf know?

Does Frodo?

Does Sam?

Does this mean there's also a backup Gollum?

I hope so.

Otherwise, that new ring might not get destroyed.

Pray for Frank.

First he was infested with bugs.

Then, in the process of repotting him, I accidentally knocked most of his roots off.

I hope he survives.

He's far too young to die.

So begins the second.

In a little while.

After I finish sorting the notes and snippets of dialog.

And anything else that needs to be done.

But at least I know how it begins.

And how it ends.

It's just all the stuff in the middle that needs to be sorted out.

All 67 pages of it.

El elefante.

Es gris y grande.

If you like horror books about teenage sociopaths...

You should read the John Wayne Cleaver trilogy by Dan Wells. I got the first book, I Am Not A Serial Killer, for Christmas and then it sat on the shelf for a while because there was a line of other books to read, so it had to wait its turn. (Actually, some of those books are still waiting in that line and probably more than a little sore at the trilogy for taking over the way it did.) Then, the day finally came when it reached the front and I commenced reading. So I read. And read. And really, it was the first time in a long time that I'd found a book that I didn't want to put down, which meant that I read it before bed one night and had some rather interesting dreams. Later, after finishing the first book, I immediately picked up the second, Mr. Monster, because I'd already bought it when I had seen that it was out in paperback. Then, as I was reading the second, I found that the third, I Don't Want To Kill You, had come out in paperback as well. (Yes, I am cheap. The last hardcover I bought was The Monuments Men because I didn't know if I'd ever see that one in paperback. Anyway, back to the tale.) So I read the second book, zooming through it, and finishing it on a day I had told myself that I wouldn't, that I would divide up those last chapters and make it last. I didn't. I couldn't. I just had to know what happened, and once I did, I had to go buy the third book the very next day because I had a coupon and because I really, really wanted to read the third and see what would happen this time, especially since it was the last book in the series. (Yeah, I liked the series that much.) So I bought it on Friday, finished by Wednesday, and yes, I did read those last chapters all at once, even though, once again, I told myself that I wouldn't. I've got to say, I liked the ending. I liked that I still had questions. That I felt that the people would still keep on living and still have to deal with stuff. That the world would go on and that there would still be...well, I don't want to give anything away, so I won't finish that sentence. Anyway, if you like scary books and suspense and stuff like that, and if you want something to read on a pleasant afternoon, I'd take a look at these. If you don't, well, you probably said no to the title of this post and have no interest in these, unless you're willing to take a chance and meet John...

(But as LeVar would say, "You don't have to take my word for it.")

Happy Birthday America!

Go do something fun.

I suggest those little black snake things you light and then watch grow on the sidewalk.

I've always liked those.

(And don't forget the sparklers.)

Painting Christmas trees.

Because that's what you do in June, right?

Good.

Is not good enough.

It never is.

The end...sort of.

Draft two is done.

I fear that it's a wee bit long.

(Now I've just got to figure out how to print this sucker.)

It's not like people just drive around the lot.

If the value of a car drops when it's driven off the lot, why doesn't it drop every time someone takes it for a test drive?

Relax.

Have a prairie dog kind of day.

Dearest Customers,

I am a person.

I am here to help you.

I am not here to take your abuse.

I am not here to be treated like dirt or something you find stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

I am not here to be yelled at because the store doesn't have what you want.

I am here to help you.

And everyone else who comes through those doors.

All I'm asking for is a little understanding.

A little patience.

A little kindness.

There are many of you.

There is only one of me, and there is nothing I can do to change that.

Believe me, I've tried.

I am here because I have to be.

I am here because this where I can find work right now.

Believe me, this is not how I envisioned the future.

Not by a long shot.

But this is how things are.

And all I'd like is a little kindness.

Because I'm a person.

Because I deserve to exist.

Because I am not better or worse than you.

I am just me.

That is all I am and all I can be.

I treat you with respect not because you are a customer but because you are a person.

I treat you with respect because it's common courtesy.

I treat you with respect because it's what I was taught to do.

It's not you vs. me.

It's not me vs. you.

It never was.

It never will be.

There are no winners.

There are no losers.

There are only people who have the right to exist.

I'm sorry if we don't have what you want.

I'm sorry if you drove here for nothing.

I'm sorry that it's beyond my control and that I can't make what you want magically appear.

Believe me, if I could, I would.

But I can't, which is why I'm just asking for a little respect.

A little understanding.

A little patience.

I'm trying to help you.

I want to help you.

I don't want to feel bad about myself, or worse than I already do.

I don't want to think dark thoughts.

I don't want to re-evaluate every decision that I've ever made in life.

I don't want to, but I do.

Every time you sneer at me.

Or yell at me.

Or try to show your superiority over me when you don't even know me.

I know I work in retail.

I don't need to be reminded.

And it's really, really hard to stand there and smile while you pile on the abuse.

But I will.

I have to.

Because I have faith that I'll get through this.

I'll finally get to where I'm going.

And after I do, if I see you, I won't lord it over you.

I'll just smile.

And this time I'll mean it.

Bad news.

Something went after the sunflowers.

Two survived.

Time to plant again.

Dear Customer,

Your grammar made my brain hurt.

Please don't do it again.

Thank you.

(And yes, I also think that don't go together.)

Look, Ma!

It's a happenin' in the garden!

Things are finally starting to grow.

There are beans,

And peas,

And sunflowers,

And tomatoes.

(Okay, so those were there before, but they're still growing.)

Yes it is.

Maybe it's just me (it probably is), but sometimes when I'm watching a Harry Potter movie, and Voldemort shows up on the screen in his wizarding robes, I can't help but remember a certain bumper/promo for the Jackie Chan Adventures that was often played during the credits of other shows, where the following exchange (as best as I can remember it) took place between Valmont/Shendu and his minions:

"What's with the dress?"

"It's not a dress. It's a sorcerer's gown."

"Isn't a gown a dress?"

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't!"

(Pause)

"Yes it is."

It makes me laugh every time and I wish that I could find it again, but try as I might, I haven't been able to. (Believe me, I've tried.) I don't think I'm crazy because I know of at least one other person who remembers it, but still, it would be nice to see again. (Maybe it's tucked away on one of my random VCR tapes.) Anyway, I always have a good laugh when I think of it.

(Sorry, boys, but it is.)

(And another thing. Voldemort dear, maybe if you'd invested in a good pair of boots, some sensible shoes, or even a pair of sandals bought at the wizard dollar store, you might have stood a chance of winning, or had a far better attitude. I'm just saying, there's a lot of stuff out there to step or stub your toes on...)

That's good advice.

29 WAYS TO STAY CREATIVE from TO-FU on Vimeo.

I reckon I owe some of these characters an apology.

I reckon so.

Sorry.

Better luck next story.

Except for you.

You're not coming back.

Sorry.

The garden is in.

Now if I need to make anything with peas, beans, tomatoes, or sunflowers, I'm all set.

If they decide to grow.

(And maybe I don't need to cook the sunflowers...perhaps just the seeds will do.)

I might add some flowers tomorrow.

I've got the seeds, the space, and the time.

This is also neat.

(I seem to be saying neat a lot, don't I?)

Cloudy with a fifty percent chance of dinosaurs.

They played the Jurassic Park theme during Weather on the 8s.

Does that mean I should expect to see dinosaurs walking around?

I hope there will be at least one Ankylosaurus.

I've always liked them.

Aren't they neat?

It happened again.

(No, my car is not giving me an error message, and it isn't a calculator, but I still think it's neat.)

Surprise, surprise.

Okay, so I'll keep this short. I knew they weren't going to win. Getting to the end of round one took all but about ten minutes of the show, there was at least another round to go, and I was pretty sure that it wasn't going to end on a cliff hanger. It's just like how I know when watching detective shows that when they find the culprit thirty minutes in, the guy they've just nabbed probably isn't going to be the one who actually did it, or there's going to be some sort of twist involved. (I told you this would be short.)

Meet Gordon.

He's a gnome.

(I'll give you a moment to get the jokes. Yeah, jokes. Plural. Sorry.)

Apparently, he's also very interested in mysteries, sailing, and exploration.

I had no idea.

In loving memory of Old Lead Legs

Grounded in life,

Forever flying in my heart.

It's nice to be appreciated.

That's why I'll get my photos developed at Walgreens again.

Because if no one else likes my pictures, at least the lady who developed them does.

(I do too.)

Flowers for my mother.

And a smattering of butterflies thrown in for good measure.

There's a Dogface,

a Red-spotted Purple on an apple branch,

a Regal Fritillary with an American Painted Lady flying over some purple cudweed and Canada thistle,

and two Silver-bordered Fritillaries with some Vervain.

The sun always shines on our lawns.

Greetings friends,

The long winter has finally come to an end, the lush green lawns of spring have returned, and with them the dandelions, brightening up yards across the country. Unfortunately, some people still don't appreciate these lovely little flowers, focusing instead on their so-called "weediness," and we think that's a shame. For without dandelions, the desks of teachers, and the kitchen tables of countless homes, would be drab, bare spaces. Without dandelions there would be no dandelion greens in salads. Without dandelions there would be no sunshine on a cloudy day. Yes, my friends, the world would be a darker, less magical place without the noble dandelion. (And need we even mention what would become of the wishes made when the gold turns to fluff?) Still, this is not to say that we believe the world should be covered in dandelions. Too much of a good thing can quickly turn into a bad thing, and we do appreciate the sight of a perfectly manicured, beautiful green lawn. We just don't want to live in a world that looks like one big golf course. This is only what we believe, of course, and we do not wish to impose our beliefs on others. That is simply not the dandelion way. So as you go about your day, catching glimpses of golden pockets of sunshine, we ask that you take a moment to consider what the world would be like without them. If the thought breaks your heart, then you know how we feel, and if not, if you think the world just doesn't need them, we understand and wish you only the best.

Respectfully Yours,

The Dandelion Appreciation Society.

They're not weeds, just misplaced flowers.

The thing is boys, we've got a lot of these gizmos, and I gotta tell ya, they just don't work.

Every time we flash the Die Fledermaus signal, he disconnects his phone and leaves town for a week.

Wait...what?

Today's classical music programming has been made possible through a contribution from Bob Smith* in honor of Winston Churchill's bloody minded determination to defeat Nazi Germany.

*Bob Smith is not the name of the actual person. I don't remember what name the announcer said, though I'm pretty sure this is exactly what he said.

I've heard a lot of things on the radio, but I never expected to hear something like this.

So who's really more important in this song?

The man who was just a hundred yards from Mary Anne,

Or Dan the pony, the only one of the two travelers to be given a name?

Don't laugh at the moon.

It already gets upstaged by the sun.

Poor thing.

Maybe that's why it's slowly drifting away from us.

So it begins.

I've just started a little war.

(And reached the home stretch to finishing this second pass through/rewrite. Yay me!)

And just because.

Need I say that I really, really want this?

Maybe it's because they weren't wearing the proper attire.

Comic courtesy of Medium Large.

It's just that it was early and I was tired.

That's why I didn't get up before dawn.

I did, however, set the VCR.

(Yes, I still have a VCR, thank you very much.)

That way, I can watch it at my leisure.

And use it for research.

(Yes, research. But not for me. For the little royals living in my head. No I am not crazy.)

No, I did not get up early to watch it.

I figured that they could get married without me.

And if they couldn't, well, I had no idea I played such an important role in their lives.

(And if I do, where was my invitation?)

(I did, however, watch it on BBC America when they replayed it at noon.)

Sometimes I surprise myself.

I had no idea I'd given that character a first name.

Apparently I had.

It only took rewriting this monster to realize it.

Way to go General, you're that much closer to having a past life.

(Any idea what your counterpart in the neighboring country was called?)

I will never paint vervains again...maybe.

I think spending seven hours painting them is enough, don't you?

(And no, it wasn't all at once. That would have been a tad crazy, and prone to mistakes, don't you think? I do.)

It's not you. It's probably me.

Sometimes it seems like the more popular something becomes, the more annoying I find it. I wonder why that is. I don't intend for it to happen. It just does. Maybe it's the inevitable overload and the constant feeling that I'm obligated to like it or think it's cool.

Perfect for when you need to match everything and nothing.

Last night I found a pair of pants that, when compared to a black pair looked navy, and when compared to a navy pair looked black. I was at a loss as to where to put them for there is no section for magic pants. Maybe it's time there was.

From the desk of Alex J. Hoover

Oak Street.

Quiet.

Unassuming.

The kind of street that makes you glad to be alive.

The kind of street you'd find neat lawns and smiling faces.

The kind of street that Mom and Dad are always talking about because it's just the kind of street they grew up on.

But in different houses.

And different towns.

And different states.

Oak Street.

There's probably one in every town.

It's the kind of street that anyone would want to live on.

Oak Street.

Two blocks down.

I don't live on Oak Street.

I live on Beech.

Beech Street is not Oak Street.

Beech Street has a dark side.

There's evil here.

That's right.

Evil with a capital E.

Just don't let it know that you know and you might survive.

But I do.

I know.

I know what evil lurks beneath the trees.

Ash trees.

Not beeches.

Come to think of it, there isn't a single beech tree on Beech Street. Weird, huh?

But back to the street.

Yup, Oak is the street to live on, but it you don't, if you can't, if you happen to find yourself living on Ash or Elm, then you've got to be on guard, and if you live on Magnolia, well, I don't have to tell you about evil, do I? Nope. Not at all.

Be on guard. That's the key to survival.

Not many people remember that. I do.

That's why I know what's really going on around here.

Sometimes I think I'm the only one that does, but it's my job to know.

You see, I'm spy, but not just any spy. I'm a spy of the Sixth Grade, and that's pretty darn impressive.

One more grade will make me a Seven, but that's going to take some time.

I've got to learn to drive first.

And find a genius to make me all sorts of inventions.

And get a jet pack.

Yup, it's going to take some time, but I can wait.

I just have to be careful not to blow my cover because there's evil here on Beech, and wouldn't evil just love to get its claws on a spy?

It was no before, and it's still no.

Each time I get one of the free songs and am asked if I want to use the Ping feature on my iTunes, which, frankly, I have yet to use and have no intention of using, I just hear, "Would you like to Ping about it? I could help you...compose a Ping." I know, I know, not the same thing, but really, I just get that kind of well-meaning, but altogether clueless voice in my head. No ma'am, no you may not help me. I'm fine. Really, I am.

Three and a half hours later...

All the leaves are on the tree, what can be seen of the tree.

Apparently not as far as Tallahassee.

How far would you go for a Twinkie?

Happy Pi Day!

Have a slice on me.

Fond memories of Saturday morning.

Watching television a few days ago, I caught an ad for the BK Stuffed Steakhouse Burger and I have to say that my first thought wasn't, "Gee, I think I'll go try one." No, it was, "Wow, that really reminded my of a He-Man commercial. I wonder if that was intentional. I wonder where mom packed away the old He-Man action figures. I think they should be with Voltron, the Transformers, and the ewoks." Don't get me wrong. It was a memorable commercial. I just don't think I'm remembering it for the right reason. Anyway, in case you're curious, here are the two side by side (or one on top of the other).

Here's Burger King:

(I apologize for the poor quality of this one, but it was the only one I could find, so you're stuck with it, but it still gets the point across.)

And here's He-Man:

See what I mean?

Oh, and here's one I find myself loving mostly because the narrator says, "String not included."

But does that mean the mysterious sandy table of mystery and the trees and bushes in the background are included? And remember when toy commercials used to show kids actually playing with toys? I do. I miss those.

Please turn to page 72.

And forget that you're actually only on 32.

What can I say? Things got a little out of order.

Stupid timeline.

Ah well. Back to work.

Shall we proceed?

It only took two days to figure out the timeline again.

This should be the last time I have to do it, too.

Until I read the whole thing over again.

And again.

And maybe again.

(I only hope I don't find out that I've still got it wrong somewhere in the middle.)

It was the butterfly what done me in.

It was coming along so nicely and then I had to paint those legs.

Those heavy, heavy legs.

Those legs that made the lines that might have been a tad too dark, darker.

Oh well.

That's why pencils have erasers.

And pads of watercolor paper are made up of more than one sheet.

But I still love you, Old Lead Legs, yes I do.

I know of at least two.

How many Disney songs do the words "crystal clear" appear in?

It would seem that Chaos has decided to return.

I hope he brings the plot with him when he comes.

It's hard to be a zombie when it snows.

I blame the previous post for this (but it sure was fun to do).

Or maybe they'd just hibernate.

What happens to zombies in the winter, especially in places that receive large amounts of snow? I would think that those places would become pretty much inhospitable to the walking dead. After all, moving so slow, I have to believe it would be pretty easy to freeze. Then what? Would they just have to stand there and wait to thaw out? But what about the whole freeze/thaw process that wreaks havoc on roads and buildings and other infrastructure? I mean, sure, they're already dead, but what about frostbite? Would it still affect them so that after they're thawed they just start losing limbs and other extremities? All told, I'm not sure zombies would be able to survive the winter because in general, they're simply not dressed for it, and then there's the lack of food and ease with which a still living person might be able to get their hands on one of those big snow plows and take them all out. That's another thing. Why in the movies doesn't someone go find one of those big snowplows and use that for transportation? It would be a lot easier to hit zombies with a plow than with a car, and would probably result in a lot less damage to the vehicle. Anyway, back to the topic at hand.

Besides freezing, there's also all of the snow. Now, zombies have never seemed to be very agile except in spurts and except for those really fast moving ones that I think would probably be done away with in the first freeze, though it would be kind of funny to see them run and go sliding around because they've lost control. Still, as a group, I'm not sure zombies would do very well with snowdrifts. They might trip and fall down shuffling into one, and then they'd freeze and die again or whatever. It would, however, make shoveling a path or driveway kind of scary because you'd never know when your shovel might hit one, or when one might burst out of the snow and come after you. Really though, it would make more sense for the zombies to stay in the south, or for those in the north to migrate south in the winter like birds or butterflies, and avoid the snow all together. Plus, I've got to believe that at least some of the still living people would head south when it got colder, so the zombies would be just following their food source.

And with that I think I just put much more thought into this than I should have, so I shall end it here, but it was kind of fun to think about.

(And yes, I do know of at least one movie where the zombies were out in the snow, but I've never seen it, have heard it isn't that good, and don't plan to watch it.)

Thank you Carson, that will be all.

What would be the point of living if we did not let life change us?

(And thank you Downton Abbey. I, for one, cannot wait for season two.)

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

To get my car into the driveway at around 10 last night, I had to shovel snow for about an hour.

To get my car out of the driveway today, I had to shovel snow for a little more than an hour.

Then, since I was on a roll, I shoveled a path to the door and shoveled out the neighbor's parking space for about another hour.

All the while telling myself that it was good for the old constitution.

And that it was surely good enough for a few karma points as well.

So close. So close.

Only 217 pages to go and I'll have finished the second draft or third or whatever number this is.

So much for that "I just have to knit things together and then I can stop for a bit."

Somehow that stopped being true several hundred pages ago and turned into "I've come this far, I might as well see this through to the end."

To be fair, it was probably the right decision.

The timeline should be in order by the end, and all the gaps and holes should be filled in.

Should.

Should.

Should.

Should.

(You know, when you type the same word several times in a row you start questioning if you spelled it correctly even if you know you did. Weird.)