You Can't Get There From Here, So Die

It's Saturday. I've been cooped up at work and home all week or two and it's time to get the hell out.

Mrs. leftystrat told me about this place called The Christmas Tree Store. Right off the bat, it sounded horrible. She said it's open year round, at which point I asked what was the point. Well, they don't just sell Christmas trees and stuff. With virtually no way to say no that would leave my genitals intact, I agreed. Being at least somewhat clever, I bundled it with a trip to the guitar store.

Since the wife was so familiar with the store, I had to look it up online, just to make sure it was in roughly the same state as the guitar store, which it was supposed to be. I got very simple directions from Google, which should have tipped me off immediately.

Once on the road, I figured I'd put the address into the Garmin GPS, in case Google's directions were faulty. HA! The joke, however, was on me, as it usually is with the Garmin. Remember the movie Poltergeist, where the station wagon hated Craig T Nelson's character but purred for the Indian? That's what my relationship with the Garmin is. Except for the fact that the Garmin really does piss everybody off and causes marital strife. First, I typed in the city. The Garmin, ready for me, assured me there was no city with that name in New Jersey. This will come as quite a shock to 71,045 people who live there (per 2010 census). Not to be outwitted, I put in the street address. The clever auto-complete finished the street name for me and suggested four addresses, none of which was the address I put in.

Now here is where the marital strife bit comes in. When I start to curse loudly (as opposed to normal everyday cursing), Mrs lefty provides some helpful tips. And when I say helpful tips, I mean THINGS THAT MAKE ME WANT TO STRANGLE HER. These consist largely of the steps I have already taken and produce largely the same results. This is in addition to one of the main difficulties of Garmin; the fact that any kind of entry is near impossible due to some sort of anti-input coated membrane keyboard. Never mind the technical aspects, what this means is that you can't actually enter most of what you want to type into the bloody thing. It may take every other letter or refuse to take anything. Wife uses a stylus, which makes things slightly less painful. Slightly.

Having gotten absolutely nowhere (with the backup system, mind you),  Wife 'suggests' that she give it a try. She rips it out of my hand and does the same thing I just did, with the same results. Then she tries it a different way, producing the same results. Only then can we 'just screw the stupid thing.' The inevitable followup is "I dunno, it always works for me when I'm alone."

NOTE: this is not good, as it brings up a part of my life I thought I had left behind. The part where my mere proximity to things made them go awry. If I went to a store, no one would wait on me. If I went to a restaurant, my order would get messed up or go missing entirely. The grocery store's automatic door wouldn't open for me. I am not making any of this up. Burning dead chicken parts and eating the feathers, combined with Good Clean Livin made it all go normal for me.

Both of us having given up, I put in a nearby address and off we went.  The Google directions were completely foobed. There are cute little phrases like 'take a small right and you'll be on the same road,' which means Go Straight, Stupid. Well past where we thought the place might be, we turned on the Garmin. The fact that it did not cackle at me left us with a slight positive feeling. After pondering for a mere few seconds, it told us exactly where to go, not at all like when I tell IT exactly where to go.

DOES IT MEAN HERE?
DOES IT MEAN HERE?
Yes, Dear, where the sign says Exit.

One thing my presence does still affect is my wife's driving.  This woman can get anywhere in any car, including in states in which she has never been. Put me in the passenger seat and she regresses to a twelve year old, who can't decide if take the next exit means pull over to the side or take the next exit. It's painful to see a well-educated, bright woman go all blonde on me. Total airhead. It's not like I have this effect on other women.... and I stopped giving her the pills ten years ago.

The Garmin gave good, solid directions, complete with mileage figures that made us feel all secure inside. And then we hit Camden, New Jersey - armpit of the US. The bridge to Philly was coming up on us and the Garmin said to go straight five miles.

Dear Garmin: ahead five miles would put us in the Atlantic Ocean and I'm reasonably sure the store is not located under water, especially on the PA side of the water. So we pulled off at the Last Exit Before Bridge and looked for a place to launch the Garmin and try a cell phone. Wife throws her phone at me and tells me to look it up while she exits the car and works on putting the disgusting smoke of burnt leaves into her lungs. The problem here is that I've never played with her phone and she has it set up in a way that even she can barely operate it. I can't use mine because it's so locked down that by the time I can enable GPS, we could have walked the 120 hours home. One 'Christmas Tree Store' input later, we got a list of ten locations. Each one was in a different state, none of which were the current state. I do not run a retail business but I'm going to guess that no retail business has any interest in hiding and not being found. Putting the actual address into the phone produced a route. Halleleujah!

We went a few miles in this direction then that direction and finally found ourselves..... in Camden, exiting at the Last Exit Before Bridge. Why do two separate GPS devices want to send us through Camden and into the water? Does Camden pay off the GPS manufacturers to route all traffic through there? If I were going from New York to Rhode Island, would it take me through Camden?

Wife insists we use the Garmin. If the Garmin tried to get us wet, cold, and dead last time, what could we reasonably expect it to do when we asked it a second time? But we were wrong - it provided a path that did not involve water, bridges, and death (we hoped). Or Camden. This proves that if you're going west, Garmin will give you the wrong directions but if you're going east, it will get you where you want to go. Remember this.

One left at the light later, we were at the Christmas Tree Store. The (internal) children were as excited as they could be. I was assured that I would love it too. There were these huge glass-ish globes called Wishing Globes. Apparently she bought me a blue one last year. Hmmm... never saw it. I was extremely curious as to why I needed one. Well, you like blue. Yes I do, but what about a glass-ish 10" ball was supposed to be interesting or useful to me? She got distracted immediately by some other shiny object but I managed to keep steering the topic back to the value I was somehow getting from this ball I never received. I think I finally nailed it when I asked if it was like me buying her a guitar for Christmas.

The part about me liking the store was strictly to make her not feel too guilty about dragging me into a warehouse-size store with 90 tons of Christmas Crap. They had stuff we'd never seen before, which is almost as much fun as going to a dump and finding trash you've never seen before. Stupid swirly Santas, three thousand nutcrackers, hideously gaudy this and that, and even some furniture and tables. I try to be reasonably nice (to my wife only) so I kept my tongue largely in my mouth and didn't utter a single "Dear God, please get me out of here or at least lock me in a random trunk until she's done."

I pointed out the Clearance section, which she loves. She asked where. I suggested it might be under that HUGE RED SIGN that said CLEARANCE.  You know she would have found it immediately if I weren't there. It was over there, past the sixty-year-old lady with purple hair and a nose stud. Go ahead - I'll wait while you read that again. In spite of the proximity to Halloween, this was not a costume.

There was a bathroom stop. There is always a bathroom stop. While it is a fact that women's bladders are smaller than men's, hers seems to be the size of an average pea, and needs to be emptied at a frequency that is inversely proportinal to the location of a bathroom. And I, of course, had to watch the pocketbook and cart. And you guessed it - I got the cart with the square wheel. Again. I really thought this was behind me, and here it is, popping up again. Perhaps ALL the carts are developmentally disabled. Or perhaps the stores need a pit crew, like NASCAR, where they change the wheels in under ten seconds, so the driver can get back in the race with minimal lost shopping time.

They did have food at this store. It was closeout food, most so bad you didn't know it existed in the first place. I did see chocolate Frosted Flakes, which looked Greeeeat, but the box was in Spanish. We also found some garlic fig spread, amazed as we were that we never saw it when it was really popular. Once we passed the Maple Bacon Pop-Tarts, we knew it was time to go.

We got directions to the guitar store from the Nicest Cashier Ever, who even recommended restaurants in the area. We bravely followed the directions, not even bothering to turn on the Garmin, which would have told us there were no guitar stores in New Jersey anyway.

The Sam Ash chain store even had a few lefty guitars. They were all cheap, thereby encouraging beginners. I looked around for other stuff, none of which caught my eye. They had all of two acoustic lefties, so we lefty.

The Guitar Center chain store had roughly the same amount of lefty electrics, largely cheapies. Ok, good for the lefties that need them. My wife slyly started asking me questions about stuff. I slyly denied knowledge or told her I was not interested, as she was trying to get something out of me about a possible Christmas present. I tried diligently to find something to purchase but again failed. Well, there was an $1800 amplifier that I heard great things about, but I didn't think I was going to like it $1800 worth. As I was checking out some effects, I walked past a female employee in army greens and a military hard hat. Maybe it's because I'm getting older or I just don't care anymore, but I declined to ask.

Walking to the car, we passed one of those buffet places. Worse - a Chinese buffet place. These places, like Golden Corral, frighten me to death. Everything comes out of a can, like industrial food.  Vegetables from a can, mashed potatoes from a can, whole chicken from a can. Ice cream that has no ice or cream in it. Still she wanted to go, however she wisely suspected that I may not like it. There were people eating that stuff with chopsticks. Although I consider eating an Olympic sport, I will not (and cannot) perform the digital gymnastics involved in operating those infernal wooden things.

So we went home to Pennsylvania, where the food is tastier and we can get there without any forms of GPS assistance.

In fact, if you listen closely on a cold autumn night, you can hear the sound of traffic being routed underwater and Garmins being thrown off bridges.

Let's Convention This Bitch Up

I feel sorry for Philthydelphia. It's not bad enough they're in a public transportation crisis because they bought poorly-made cars (that they knew about a year in advance); now there's the Democratic National Convention. It's so huge they're holding parts of it at a giant sports stadium. Wait til they find out parking is fifty dollars.  Traffic is murder at any time of the day or night, so imagine how bad it will be when portions of the city's two main arteries are to be closed. The worst will be borne by the poor commuters and people forced to live and work downtown. Good luck there, folks.

Now imagine the arriving politicans. First they land at an airport with striking workers, incompetent TSA empolyees (be fair, this could be any airport in the nation), then they see the parking three-deep at the curb, right next to the No Parking signs. Driving on the always gridlocked I-95 North, they immediately pass the waste recycling plant.. Philly smells like shit for many reasons. Heaven forbid they try to get around via public transportation or worse, by car. It's like New York but without the accent.

As if this fun couldn't be superceded, the security will be insane, especially when Hillary the Prevaricator arrives. I'm all for having it moved at the last minute. To any old state (or country) at all.  I'm not partisan - I feel sorry for Clevelanders too. Just to make things more interesting, you can open-carry guns there. Thus far it has been peaceful, or at least the gun-carriers have.

• A year and a half after I became gainfully employed, I'm still receiving job notices, some for jobs I applied for a year and a half ago. As per warning, the worst are the Indian recruiters, for some unknown reason. Today I received one from some Indian guy, saying he thinks I'd be interested in a one year contract in Toronto, Canada. Well, there's nothing like an eight hour commute to a different country to get the old metabolism going. WTF is wrong with these people?

A young immigrant has attacked people on a German train. With an axe, while shouting "Allahu Ackbar," which means "Oops, I did it again" in Swahili. Germany and President Obama say the motive isn't clear, even after ISIS claimed responsibility.

Meanwhile the Social Justice Warriors have exclaimed that no normal citizen should have an axe and sensible axe control must be enacted. Star Trek's Wil Wheaton, now famous for his "Fuck the NRA" outbursts, when reached for comment, said, "Fuck the National Axe Association!"

• I think we need a party that guarantees inclusion of another minority group: The Attractive Wingnut Party. Members will include Sarah Palin, Michele Bachman, Michelle Malkin and others to be named later.

The Pokemon Go craze is perfect for us... people have been stopping traffic and walking/driving off cliffs. That sound you hear is Charles Darwin laughing.

• I heard some of Chris Christie's RNC speech on the radio this morning. Regardless of how you vote, the guy was entertaining and nailed it.

BREAKING: sources deep within the RNC have discovered that Bill Clinton plans to vote for Trump. Because he wants a chance at Malenia.

• Baltimore police have footage of a driver playing Pokemon Go plowing into a police car. No word on whether the driver was taking a selfie at the same time.

There is now a Krispy Kreme donut-flavored soda. Is this a good thing? Is it the sign of some sort of Kardashian apocalypse?

• A study, using Real Science, shows that Harry Potter fans are more likely to dislike Donald Trump. This is a shame, as Donald was really counting on the Hogwarts Vote.

Going for the Boobie Prize

Donald Trump has proposed a ban on Muslims entering the country. I propose a ban on politicians entering D.C. Let the Muslims clean up their own garbage.

• NICE GUY NEWS: a woman bit a TJ Maxx employee after stealing underwear. It has not been specified whether the woman or the employee stole the underwear.
• A naked 19 year old man's attempt to hijack a Federal Express truck was foiled when he could not figure out how to drive it.

Scientists have figured out how to create infertile mosquitos. It's an awful shame they haven't figured out how to create infertile Kardashians.

• James Comey, FBI Director, said the California shooters were radicalized 'for some time'. Funny, that didn't stop them, did it? Another chapter in Security Theater.

Flying Spaghetti Monster holiday cards are back!


Never let it be said that Philadelphia isn't a warm, welcoming place. Just the other night, some samaritan deposited a severed pig head at a mosque. He even went to the trouble of having it smoked. Also this week we had three students violently assault a high-school teacher. The city of brotherly love strikes again!

Philly's own mayor, Michael Nutter, wants to ban Donald Trump from Philly. When asked for comment, Philly said it wants to ban Michael Nutter from Philly.

• The latest digital threat? Distracted walkers. Distracted walkers veer off course by as much as 61 percent while texting, tweeting, reading and walking. And taking selfies, no doubt.

In Florida (of all places), a man was pulled over by state police for speeds of 100mph and DUI. While this is not out of the ordinary in Florida, it was 3pm and the driver was naked.

• Porn star James Deen, recently accused of three six eight nine ten rapes of fellow porn stars, is 'completely baffled by the allegations.' In addition, his company is being investigated by OSHA. Because they don't use condoms.

One of the biggest disappointments of the last 7 years, Obama aside, is Joe Biden. Before the elections, he was the Great White Hope of Silliness, taking every opportunity to shoot himself in the foot. Since the elections, he has been silent. A recently leaked memo from Edward Snowden shows that between the odd appearance, Joe is literally handcuffed to his chair. He's let out strictly for public relations and every other Tuesday, he's waterboarded by Dick Cheney.

• Dirty Dancing is going to be remade for television. Because, you know, we NEED this.

Meet Excel 2016!   No.

• The Vatican has announced 'irregularities' after $22,000 found in a desk. Thou shall not steal.

A sign in a South Carolina gun store says, "Want to piss off Obama? Buy a gun."

As it turns out, gun sales have taken off like mad during Obama's tenure. Here's a conspiracy theory for you: perhaps 'gun control' was invented by the NRA.

• The president has implemented 'emergency measures' as border surge overwhelms immigration officials. Hey - didn't you allow this in the first place?

So you want to watch some synchronized swimming, aka water ballet, but it's missing a certain oomph? What do you do? HINT: everything's better with Led Zeppelin. [Stairway warning]

• It's been a while since the Planned Parenthood shooter first appeared in court. Yesterday he erupted, causing his own lawyer to want to 'explore issues of competency'. I'm pro-life and I'll kill you to prove it.

Sailors repeatedly filmed women undressing on a sub. Does this mean the Village People weren't gay after all?

• Microsoft Edge has inhereted many of Internet Explorer's security flaws. Don't use it.

How to avoid the new Star Wars movie.

• A Polish priest and government supporters performed an exorcism on a newspaper to purge the 'lies of the media'.  You know, Father.. Polish jokes don't just appear out of the blue.

A MODICUM OF MUSIC

Today is the Day of Cray. Robert Cray, that is. Robert is, as you'd expect, a fine guitar player, singer, and writer. You can see him playing the part of a bass player in Animal House. What's not to like?

One of his biggest hits is Smokin' Gun. Great, fun guitar playing and soulful singing. Surprise ending. An almost humorous lead. My late Bad Band used to murder this song but in spite of that, people always enjoyed it.

Nothin' But a Woman is cool riff-based song. Listen and enjoy. Plus, how can you not enjoy a line like 'tell me a boatful of lawyers just sank'?

The Forecast (Calls for Pain) has hit written all over it. Catchy riff, strong emotion, approachable theme. And some cool playing.

Grub? No Thanks

It's great having a job.  No, really. We get to do stuff that we didn't get to do when I was gainfully unemployed. You know.... stuff like eating at restaurants.  Not that we do it a lot - we like about four restaurants and stay home otherwise because we like our own cooking way more than most restaurants.

So out we went on Friday night, as a treat.  The wife wanted a burger and I wanted barbecue, so we went for burgers.  There is a new Wawa (convenience store, for those of you west of Pennsylvania) in town (no, we didn't eat there) but they're adding restaurants to the Super Wawas. Super Wawa is differentiated from regular Wawa by some feature or other; probably the amount of traffic multiplied by the difficulty of accessing the store, divided by locating parking. And gas (hopefully not the kind you get from food).

But wait!!!! The stupid tire indicator in the car was lit. Until I looked in the manual, I didn't know we had a stupid tire indicator. It was right there, under Stupid Tire Indicator. It turned out to indicate that the stupid tire needed air.  Oops, it actually indicated that A stupid tire needed air (but not which stupid tire needed air). Off to the dollar air machine, after which I could not locate my cell phone holster. I just gave up at that point, as that was the kind of day I was having. Normally the holster is secured securely on my pocket... not today. [UPDATE: it was not the stupid tires.. it was the rims - bent by the hellhole that is Philly]

We kept hearing about this place called Grub, which our family and friends really liked, so off we went. The moment we pulled up, I said to my wife, "I do not like this place."  I wasn't entirely sure why I did not like the place... perhaps it was the clientele, perhaps it was the uncomfortable-looking stools (instead of chairs), perhaps it was the proximity to the gas tanks, I dunno. But I was willing to give it a chance, which they tell me is the important thing. They are frequently wrong.

We went to the entrance, which bore a sign telling us to go round to the other entrance. Always obedient, my wife immediately opened the door and we went in.  BOOM - there was a bar in the middle of the place. Small wonder the nieces and nephews like it there; they can get bombed while burgering.

Before you accuse me of telling those kids to get off my lawn, I have to note that I have never enjoyed dining with LOTS OF NOISE around me.  And, strangely enough, there was LOTS OF NOISE around me. The wife noticed this also. Since she has her own internal din, she was not impressed either.

One of the pleasures of dining out is having someone wait on you.  Nope.  We had to stand in line, order and pay, after which we got this RFID tracking beacon, which meant the NSA already knew what we ordered. Over to a booth, where someone shooed us away, stating that the table was reserved. Oddly enough, there was no sign indicating it was reserved, so we located the single remaining table for two, which had approximately enough room for one.

At this point, a female came over and identified herself as a waitress and informed us there were two - no three people walking around if we needed anything.  This was an interesting new model of restauranting and waitressing, we thought.  After we had ordered and paid, there didn't seem to be any need for a waitress, but since we didn't own the restaurant, it didn't seem worth discussing further.

I have to say that the staff was unfailingly pleasant and didn't not have a single issue with custom orders. They had sweet potato french fries, which I really like. The second line, after fries, on the menu stated they had rosemary on them.  I hate rosemary, with a passion normally reserved for politicans. They were kind enough to kill the rosemary for me, which is good, as I'm not the kind of guy who goes around killing rosemary.

This was the kind of restaurant that gave you cups and you filled them with the soda or drink you wanted. I like this as it (theoretically) removes the chance of getting the wrong drink. And if you DO get the wrong drink, you have bigger problems. And it turned out I did, but not for the reason you think: the Coke was remarkably free of flavor. It was similar to carbonated water with brown coloring. Did I mention it was LOUD in there? LOUD like we had trouble talking to each other? This apparently bothered no one else, as their solution was to simply YELL LOUDER than the competition.

Eventually someone showed up with the burgers and we dug in. It's difficult to spell this but I'll try: pbthlllllt uh. It was the sound of me tasting a burger that had barely been cooked. In fact, it was so undercooked that the meat could not hold itself together as a recognizeable burger (or much of anything else of a meatlike-substance).  The wife took a look and confirmed it as medium-rare. I tend to go for something closer to medium-well but no one asked me. I mean that no one, from the register person to the alleged waitress, asked how I wanted my burger. Since my wife likes hers that way, it was not an issue for her.

Since the day was not going well at all, I started competing with my fellow noisemakers, in a less than pleasant tone, about my feelings on the burger. I threw it in its regulation red basket, red Special Sauce leaking all over the place. THIS is why we don't go out to eat much. Visions of barbecue danced in my head, right next to visions of Arnold Schwrzenneger as Terminator, with a double-barreled shotgun, after he had a particularly bad day.

Noting my disgust, the wife suggested she take her burger home and I could microwave it later.  I somehow managed to convey that this was not a helpful suggestion.

Seriously - this was supposed to be a treat for us. The thought of having to get up and launch the burger back from whence it came was just too much for me at the moment.  Have I mentioned that the sweet potato fries (without rosemary) were pretty good?  They were.

At this point, the alleged waitress reappeared, asking how everything was. I looked her straight in the eye and told her 'Horrible'. She smiled, said Great, and walked away, happy as ever. I looked at my wife, dumbfounded, and inquired if we had somehow transported to an alternate dimension. I haven't been in the Twilight Zone<tm> in quite a while and did not wish to return.

It became apparent that immediate action needed to be taken. Although immediate action to me involved making the alleged burger airborn, my wife, who has over twenty years of trying to moderate my behavior, suggested the better option would be to simply have them cook me something edible. We settled on me getting money back and suggesting they keep the burger and do whatever they wanted with it (suggestions joyously provided for the asking).

This, of course was not simple. The transaction required a manager. Cheerful as ever, the manager arrived, having heard there was a small issue. If you call one hundred percent of my meal, drink included, a small issue, then yes, I had a small issue. She cheerfully refunded my money, graciously offering a card entitling me to a free meal upon my next visit. Rather than telling her that my next visit would occur right after all taxes are repealed, I politely refused. She somehow sensed that I would not be returning and re-offered me the card. Rather than telling her that my return would coincide with Bush and Obama dancing cheek-to-cheek, announcing that they both lied for their entire terms in office, I again politely declined.  She told me to ask for her personally next time and she'd take care of me. Rather than telling her the next time would be just after this blog gets over ten thousand hits per day (or even a hundred), I thanked her and told her I liked the fries a lot.

As we got in the car, agreeing that this was a bit of a waste of time, I told my wife that I was hungry and coudln't we go somewhere for dinner. Somewhere among the four restaurants we liked. She smiled and proceeded to take us shopping. Right next to the store was a barbecue place, appearing as a bright light piercing the darkness. I went to it, like a starving nerd to a Playboy bunny, just in time to watch the owner locking the front door.

On the way home, I mentioned again that I was hungry and would like some dinner. The wife said she thought I was kidding.  I looked at my wife, dumbfounded, and inquired if we had somehow transported to an alternate dimension. Or perhaps there was some Waitress in her heritage.


MUSIC

Today it's my favorite guitarist ever: Jeff Beck.
One of his best tunes is Cause We've Ended As Lovers. To get the real flavor you need to listen to the album version (Blow by Blow) but this is a pretty good representation. The band features the incredible Vinnie Coliauta on drums (Zappa, everyone) and the really surprising Tal Wilkenfeld, the twenty-something, grinning bassist from Down Under.  Watch this and be blown away.

Since this will undoubtedly lead to the desire to hear more, watch the complete concert, Live at Ronnie Scott's. This is a very good quality show, released on DVD. One of the greatest moments of the show is looking out in the audience and seeing Robert Plant, looking on, amazed. Another is special guest Jimmy Page but I'm not gonna tell you why or when.  Opening the show is Beck's Bolero. Watch and learn.

Jeff Beck is my favorite due to the emotion and the physical way he plays. He only gets better and he's frightening in his seventies. Watch how he plays with the whammy bar, the volume control and the tone control, sometimes together. It's a master class in guitar.

Typhoid lefty and the Amazing Weather Event

The new job is going well. No, really, it's going decently. I have very few complaints, with the exception of the heat.  It's traditionally women who complain about the temperature being too cold, so I thought they were responsible for the eighty-degree temps in our humongous office.  Where I work is a bit of a cliche, so I asked if we had to fill out a form 8753 in order to get the temperature down below roasting. Even the women were complaining.

Speaking of women, I work near three women or so, who have apparently been sick off and on for months.  I told them if I got typhoid, it would be their fault. Little did I realize that they had been playing Pass the Germs for way longer than I have been there.

Sure enough, my throat began to feel icky. This was followed, in short order, by my head ringing and being in a vise.  It is difficult to concentrate on your job when you're desperately attempting to fail at falling off your chair.  This all happened in one day.  So I chose to stay at work and irradiate the rest of my coworkers who had not yet become sick.  I'm a giver.

You'll be surprised to learn that I don't get sick like normal people. Being a man, I had to ask my wife if I had a temperature, which she verified. The joke is somewhat on me because whenever I ask if I have a temp, my wife tells me yes. Why we do Fever Theater<tm>, I'm not sure. One day when I'm well, I am going to ask her to feel my forehead, just for fun. And then maybe I'll tell her that's not where my forehead is.  I figured the smart thing to do, aside from consuming copious amounts of ibuprofen, would be to take some Nyquil equivalent to help me sleep. It kept waking me up at hourly intervals, like a seriously snoring spouse with a chainsaw.

By the next morning, I was on our Natural Cocktail: zinc, echinacea and vitamin C. You start taking this the moment you feel sick and it will either help you to ward it off or shorten its duration.  If you don't have trouble swallowing pills, you will when you see echinacea.  It looks kinda like a clear capsule of oregano, only it's the size of a small football (deflated, of course).  And it's a good thing I dumped all this crap down my throat because the relatively simple act of sitting on the couch made my skin hurt. When the phone rang, my head exploded.  When my wife spoke, the hair follicles on my arm contracted and sent pain shooting to my brain (what was left of it).  Even innocent email checking rendered my eyebrows non-functional. My nose does not run but my stomach does: right to the fridge. When I get sick, my appetite goes through the roof. Keep your hands and feet away from my mouth.

SNOW

We're about to get a noreaster, whatever that means. It means PANIC. It means clean out the stores of milk and bread in mass PANIC. Depending on who you listen to, we're getting two or three snow storms. This includes between one and twelve inches of snow, depending on which attractive weather woman you prefer to watch. At least this time they came right out and admitted that there was no way to accurately predict the amount of snowfall, instead offering four different scenarios. This happened on three different networks, as if they were colluding.

The news is calling this the storm of the century. This indicates that total snowfall will be somewhere in the area of an inch to an inch and a half.  Mind you, the news also features shots at grocery stores, where the shelves are literally picked clean. You'd think they weren't going to get out to the store for three weeks. They're now calling it Snowmageddon.  This is why I get my news online.

The real mess is going to happen tomorrow, so naturally my wife asked me to stop at the store and pick a few things up. She is the one who goes shopping, so it's a crapshoot when I have to enter that dark place.  Let's start with walking in: most people have no trouble - not me.  I walk up to the door and it won't open. I strongly suspect it is refusing on purpose, perhaps on principle.  I'd have the store manager come out and explain it to me but as it is, he's busy plowing the lot (or one of his cashiers).

In front of me at the deli counter is an old lady who is apparently feeding a small battleship's complement.  She requires a pound and a half of swiss but it has to be in three packages for some unknown reason. Then some turkey.  No, that's not thick enough. Then a half a pound of ham. That's too thick. I held on well, managing not to strangle her with her own turkey pastrami and half an hour later, it was my turn. Mind you, they didn't have what my wife sent me to purchase. It's friggin' cheese - what's so difficult?

Just to make things more interesting, the Deli Lady wound up in front of me at the cashier. It turned out she had a husband, who kinda popped up when the bags were in the cart. I have no idea where he was the whole time; perhaps he was off trying to convince them to sell him three gallons of milk, but in seven plastic containers.

Once outside of the store, I tried carrying the packages to the car. Fortunately for me, it remained in the place where I parked it.  My wife's creamer took a leap right out of the bag, while I had four plastic bags on me. When I got home, the creamer, which obviously had something against me, had once again removed itself from its confines. This was made more amusing by the fact that I keep confusing the trunk release with the gas release. This won't be a serious problem until I start filling up the trunk with gasoline.

The cherry on top of the ice cream sundae has to be the mayor of Philthydelphia's press conference. It's fun to watch because we like to laugh (we're outside of Philly). He emphasized that they're serious about snow removal.  If so, this would be the first time.  There will be 375 people and 800 pieces of equipment deployed.  Two days later, people will be wondering why there's snow all over the place, as if they had no idea it was going to snow.  Furthermore, do not throw snow back in the street - it's disrespectful. Disrespectful is promising to clear the streets and failing completely.  It would be a fair bet that it's been snowing here for longer than there has been a city of Philadelphia, yet they have consistenly failed to do an even passable job of cleaning up. There are actually cities all over the country that manage to clean up way more snow way more frequently.  Driving in Philly is a nightmare with no snow.

I have to go now. The dog is doing us a favor, protecting us from the last bag of Cheese Jax (by eating them).  After it gets done snowing, the Abominable Snow Span will grace the freshly-washed blanket on the couch, which was washed yesterday because he was out in the rain and mud.

Hey Hey We're the Monkees (again)

Never mind that someone had a baby in England; we saw the Monkees again.

Their Philly stop was at the Mann Center, a great venue in a bad neighborhood.  It is also proof positive that Philly is a screaming cesspool.  Some genius scheduled some sort of run at the same time, so traffic was a complete nightmare.  It must have taken an hour to get down the street and into the venue.  This was burning up valuable Monkees Time, turning what was left of my mood to black.

We managed to get seated seconds before the boys hit the stage, missing the entire pre-show video montage.  These fellows make very good use of video and traditionally have.  It ran during the entire show and was almost interactive in spots.  Not bad for the Pre-Fab Four.

The show wasn't seriously different from last year's mini tour; just expanded a bit.  The weather must've been quite a shock for the guys.  It was just short of ninety degrees with disgusting humidity (welcome to Philthy!).  They joked repeatedly about how cold they were, all the while toweling themselves off.

I had my Galaxy S3 and my buddy took his iPhone.  My pictures were craptastic, barely in focus at best.  I remember looking over the phone then looking at the phone to compare the scene.  We had tremendous seats but the pictures look like we were really far away.  This might be a physics thing - I have no idea.  I did manage to get a video of Daydream Believer, where they brought a guy and his son up to sing.  This turned out decently in terms of audio, as everything else I recorded was way overloaded.  The video was crappy.

My friend's iPhone exhibited the same crappy picture effects, albeit a litte closer and more clear.  The videos were much better.  Much as I hate to do it, I have to give the video advantage to the iDevice.

My poor wife suffered from the humidity.  On the way out, it started raining and we got quite a display of lightning.  Then we started our Sherman tank and began the exit routine, dutifully plowing our way through the completely unmarked parking lot onto the completely unmarked streets.  As part of their Neighborhood Beautification Project, they removed all the street signs.  The traffic was not only unbearable, it was quite dangerous, as people were simply driving anywhere they felt like.

All of this beauty was brought to us care of a fifteen dollar fee to park.  It's not enough we paid the userous price for the concert tickets - we had to pay a further amount to sit our car there for two hours.

Below are a few pictures but they're pretty bad.  I would post the video but it's huge.  Maybe later on YouTube.

It's early in the tour - you should really get tickets and see the show.  It's very entertaining for fans and newbies alike.

Reflections on a Three Day Weekend (and Nineteen Years)

I took Monday off to celebrate Valentine's Day, which some people might find odd, as today is Valentine's Day.  I prefer less fuss and the roses are cheaper.  Wife agrees, so be it.

But V-Day also happens to be our anniversary.  You see, we were married by Blue Cross of Pennsylvania, after I learned that my work plan would cover her.  We sent email to the families, mentioning that we were married.  It took almost five years before some of the relatives began to suspect we weren't making this up.

So this year makes nineteen.  The woman deserves a medal for putting up with me that long.

Saturday my band practiced for the last time before this weekend's show.  They pleasantly surprised me by learning to play certain songs correctly.  It's the little things with me.

Sunday we went to visit a friend.  Since it was positively frigid here in the frozen tundra of PA, we got some hot drinks for the ride.   There's a Starbucks in a supermarket: beggars can't be choosers.  I ordered a carmel macchiato and a white chocolate mocha.  My wife and I each tasted both and we were unable to tell which was carmel and which was white chocolate.  Kinda speaks for itself, doesn't it?

Monday found us at Barnes&Noble, dodging Kindle displays.  I didn't want anything to drink but that particular Starbucks advertised smoothies made with a banana.  I opted for chocolate.  My wife came back with a chocolate frappucino.  Why?  Because they were out of bananas.  Seems silly to advertise the drink on every flat surface (that doesn't already have a Kindle display) when you cannot produce it.  Maybe it's just me.  I've kinda had it with Starbucks.

Our main fun activity was a trip to the Camden Aquarium.  Camden is a study in extremes.  One one hand you have the waterfront area, with its stadium and aquarium.  On the other hand, you have the city with the most murders in the country, as well as the smallest amount of police.

New Jersey came up with some interesting ideas lately.  For instance, all bridges between PA and NJ are free going to NJ but you have to pay coming back.  I firmly believe that this is because after you've seen New Jersey, you'd pay anything to get back to PA and not bitch about the cost.  Very shrewd.

Along those lines, the signage coming off the bridges is pretty good.  It's when you're trying to get back that things get interesting.  Tiny little signs say TO THE BRIDGE and usually point in the wrong direction.  You're not going to get out of your car to ask directions either.  To their credit, the radically understaffed Camden Police Department maintains high visibility on what passes for roads in New Jersey.  They're probably there to ticket you after you attempt to follow their street signs.

My wife was most complimentary about Camden.  She stated that, for an armpit, the place was really clean.  It showed pride in the neighborhood(s).  Oddly enough, this is not the first time my wife made this observation.  We were on vacation in Los Angeles and took an unfortunate turn.  The map indicated we were in Compton.  She commented on how nice Compton looked.  The people there really took care of their homes and surrounding areas.  [Take note, Philthydelphia]

After locating the aquarium, we were less than enthused at having to pay ten dollars to park our car.  Institutionalized robbery, in its finest form.  The admission had gone up from seventeen to twenty five dollars - also less than impressive.  A review today at work prompted coworkers to tell their favorite aquarium stories.  Tales of being accosted for change in the parking lot, while trying to get children out of the car.

Speaking of robbery, the sodas were two-fifty.

But nothing prepared me for the three buses full of ill-behaved, screaming children that unloaded just as we were walking to the gate.  This used to be a running joke with us.  When we went to a restaurant, I always requested the no screaming children section.  On planes too.  A friend recently told me of her trip to a bookstore with a section of screaming children, officially referred to as the leftystrat section of the store.

The first attraction was a small pool with a rather ragged-looking shark of some sort that you could touch.  My heart went out to the poor lady talking over the p.a. about the shark and telling people to only touch with two fingers, as the shark was sensitive.  The conglomeration of little bastards and bastardettes, all seemingly without parental supervision of any kind, were doing everything but leaping in with the poor shark (whose length barely exceeded a foot).  This might be the first time anyone has ever felt sorry for a shark, but that's the kind of people we are.  I made an off-mic suggestion to the employee (valium lollypops), who seemed to approve vigorously.

No trip to New Jersey would be complete without genuine stereotypes; in this case, Housewives of New Jersey.  They probably weren't the actual housewives but perhaps their good friends.  You could tell as their casual outfits cost more than my car.  Ever see a BMW stroller?  I think I did.

We saw Mike the alligator.  He was the largest alligator we have ever seen.  The employees at the aquarium are extremely helpful and friendly.  When I asked if Mike tasted like chicken, she indicated that he probably did, as that was all he ate.  She proceeded to tell us about when she ate alligator.  Ten points for sense of humor.

We like penguins.  I like them because of Tux, the Linux Penguin.  My wife just thinks they're cute.  These penguins, however, seemed rather lethargic.  They were way more interested in the door backstage than in their exhibit, which I found oddly amusing.

We saw a pair of hippos.  I can't see a hippo without thinking of my cousin Betty, the rude, obnoxious slug of a woman with the social grace of Genghis Kahn.  After she discovers your name, she asks you what you do and how much you make.  My wife thought we were kidding when we prepped her for the inquisition but had to admit we prepped her well.  When my wife asked why the water was brown, I told her because this was Philly/New Jersey, where all water is brown.  Most people won't drink it.  Smart people won't even put their boats into it.  The locals refer to is a Schuylkyll Punch (SKOO-kill).

There's a really cool tube-shaped section that makes it appear as though you're walking through water.  The wildlife is swimming all around you.  We saw some sharks plus what can only be described as a Hedge-Trimmer Shark.  Just don't plug him in while he's in the water, ok?

A cynic like yours truly can't help noticing that the all exits lead through the gift shop.  More clever Jersey marketing, no doubt.

All that aside, we really like the aquarium.  It could be bigger but there's still a decent amount to see.  It is very easy to navigate, even for people with some physical handicaps.  If they can let us know when there will be no busloads of children, we might go back.  More than likely we'll take the drive to Baltimore, where I hear incredible things about their aquarium.  And it's twenty bucks to park.