UN BELIEVE ABLE FINISH!!!

GO Pats!

GO Randall Gay!!

Amazing pick up with about 50 seconds on the clock to and then dodge left, dodge right and

TOUCHDOWN!!!!!!!!!!

Another 30+ finish for the Pats.

WHOO HOO!

Giant Water Claw of Doom

There is no other way to describe this terrifying wave thrown up by Typhoon Krosa than to call it a Giant Water Claw of Doom.

From CNN:


You would never ever see that kind of wave at Castle Island.

No wonder a million Chinese people are evacuating.

What the heck is Halo 3?

Yeah, I have no clue about video games. The last video game I played was Donkey Kong or maybe Campaign '84 on an Adam computer. Then at some stage the Evil Twin got a Nintendo. Or was it an Atari? And I got really good at Duckhunt.

But now I dunno.... X-Box, PSP, Wii... these aren't even words to me. Just a bunch of vowels and consonants hanging out.

Are they even called video games any more?

However, I am in love with the Halo 3 ad. I think Halo 3 is a video game but whateve, the ad is really good.

It is an examination of a battlefield diorama set to Chopin's Prelude No. 15 in D-flat "Raindrop".

Check it out:

Craigslist Free Stuff Roundup

I haven't done one of these in a while.

Don't say I never give yous anything!

@*@*@*@*@*@

To carry all your stuff around in, how about some burlap bags? You have to take 100 of them. That would be great for wrapping trees in for the winter. Or you could make them into wedding favors I guess...
If you want 'em: http://boston.craigslist.org/sob/zip/440672530.html

For the culinarily minded folk among us, how about some P-Town taffy?
Five pieces, free, garlic flavored. Did I mention it's free? Check it out: http://boston.craigslist.org/gbs/zip/439283929.html

If you are hip to all crap retro, this water bed from the menopausal woman in Duxbury is a must have. Specifically it must be filled with water from a hose. As opposed to spit from a dropper. But whateve, it available, go get it at: http://boston.craigslist.org/sob/zip/437229392.html

Huh, this person is offering free BBQ. Which I think means BBQ food. Because in my mind BBQ comes from a grill. I wonder if that is a regional thing... Well anyway, the ad doesn't really specify either. You be the judge here: http://boston.craigslist.org/bmw/zip/441154832.html

T-t-t-t-t-t-hat's all folks!

Good luck and happy free stuffin'!

What the red words mean...

If you see a word in red, it's a link.

If you hover your cursor over the word, you will see that you can click on a link.

Try it, it's wikked fun!

Last thing I swear!

I know that everyone is chiming in on the anonymous city officials who claim that the autopsy reports of the two firefighters killed in West Roxbury and that my opinion is just a small drop in the ocean, but hey what's two more cents.

What makes me crazy is that there are people going on about how the "public" has the "right" to know if their firefighters are drunk or high. Puhleez!

Doctors abuse drugs & alcohol, as do EMT's, and police officers, and teachers, and airline pilots, and bus drivers, and these are people who guide us through our present daily lives.

For that matter, lots of people I encounter free admit to taking recreational drugs.

Not only that but about 90% of all the people I know have driven a car after having three or more drinks.

And it's always all fine until someone dies.

Like these two firefighters. Now people seem so determined to enjoy dragging the dead through the mud. Even if they are probably a little mud spattered themselves.

And finally, the real criminals here are the owners/operators of the restaurant as well as the city restaurant inspectors at ISD. Were the restaurant grease traps never cleaned? Did ISD ever tell them to clean it? That is a lot of grease, not just a thin coating.

For a grease fire to smolder in a ceiling for hours, while letting diners continue their meal, until it explodes and kills people, THAT'S criminal.

And how much do I hate Channel 7 news for jumping back on this story a day after they were ordered not to? A whole lot.

And how pathetic is Channel 7 for whining that they were the first with the news and they would have reported it FIRST only they were BLOCKED from breaking it by the courts and the union? Really f*cking pathetic.

It's sad that Channel 7's lead story is all about how they were SHAFTED on their scoop, especially when the breaking news should be about the 13 year-old boy who was shot and killed in Dorchester.

It would be great if lots of people stopped watching 7 news.

Ok, I am done.

I swear.

Sawx Win One

Game One goes to the Sox.

But I am still not excited.

Because in truth I am really just a Pats fan.

Because it's only Game One. It's not like it's Game 7 of the World Series.

Ahhhhhh, but I do think Jason Varitek is hawwwwt.

Even if I wouldn't recognize him in person. Not even if he walked up to me and handed me a baseball that David Ortiz hit out of the park in the bottom of the tied up ninth in Game Seven of the World Series against the Yanks.

Or something like that....

You voted!

The results are in!

Five people voted (whoo hoo!!) and two of them voted that the Best Slow Songis......

The Flamingos - I Only Have Eyes for You

News like on the police blotter

Since pretty much all news lately seems to be written by ex-Enquirer employees (Britney Loses Custody of Boys! New South End Dog Park Set to Open!) I think that it would be useful if someone could write news articles in easy-to-digest police-blotter style paragraphs.

It would be better than having to get some ding-dong reporters annoying opinion mixed up with fact.

Seriously, I am so sick of the bias, and the sensationalism, and the laziness, and the general "blergh-iness" of the news in general, I am thinking of just reading the AP wire headlines.

Like right now for example, all the major news channels are advertising the 11 o'clock news with lurid tales of the two firefighters recently killed in a restaurant fire. They are saying that one had alcohol in his system, while the other had cocaine.

What makes me so totally disgusted is that they are pretty much basing these reports on "anonymous" sources.

For crying out loud!

These are two DEAD firefighters. Killed at a fire from an smoldering, exploding ceiling. They left behind waves of family and friends and co-workers who are still trying to cope with this dreadful awful loss.

Leave them alone, have a little respect.

Just like this weekend when a young Revere police officer was fatally shot in the head. Newscasters could stop themselves from making dramatic and ultimately untruthful suggestions that perhaps the bullet came from another officer or that it was very suspect that they were hanging out after hours...

There is a reason that newscast audiences are tuning out and newspaper readers are dropping off - the quality of news is crap.

It's not news, it's an affront to everyone from 1st graders on up.

At least he's not boss of me!

Mister President - you sound like a real a**hole.

From a talk he gave in Pennsylvania:

"I delegate to good people. I always tell Condi Rice, `I want to remind you, Madam Secretary, who has the Ph.D. and who was the C student. And I want to remind you who the adviser is and who the president is."

I have worked for people like this, no - not the president, and believe me, anyone who says something like this is a really a**hole to work for.

The kind of person whose picture gets used as a dartboard target at happy hour.

En route to 38 or better

GO PATS

They are in Cincy tonight, playing the Bengals.

And holy crap them Buckeyes sure are LOUD.

That's awesome.

Two of my favorite people are Ohioans - SallyNaNa, and Karenanowrimo, so I sort of feel more generous than I normally would.

So GO PATS

And: Good Job Bengals!

Eh, that is SO 1995

Sox win the division, eh, whateve.

Now they're in the playoffs..... *yaaaaaawn*

In a month or so it's going to be either:

Whoo hoo just like three years ago!!!

or

Gawd, it's just like fuckin' Bucknah all ovah again!

Personally I think Boston and Sox fans in general are happier when there is 86 years between pennants. It's not that Sawx fans like to suffah, but it's like how they deal with chicks - no one likes the ones that put out all the time.

Take it to the edge and then dash all hopes - it keeps 'em hanging on for more.

It's the jet fuel fumes

How else can anyone explain why two smartish people do completely dumb sh*t at the airport?

First there was Sun Starship from MIT who went to Logan with a LiteBrite tee-shirt and then instead of answering any questions from the Staties like "hey, what are those wires for?" she kept walking.

She's lucky she is still alive.

And then there is Ermiyas A. Asfaw from Washington DC who really had no clue about the complete lack of any sense of "hue-mah" (humor for those of you not from here) of every airport employee and State Troopah.

Seriously, if you express any tendency towards mirth, Massport will not allow you onto airport grounds.

It seems that Asfaw made an un-funny non-joke with the intent to antagonize an airline employee.

Honestly, would Al Qaeda announce themselves and their plans in English to some numbnut from Eastie?

Like Dean would say: I DOWDIT.

But you piss off that same numbnut he is going to call over the Staties. And then you're really f*cked because they've all had their humor glands surgically removed at State Troopah School.

And Asfew has no excuse - he is from Washington DC for crying out loud! I bet he would never said that at Dulles.

So it must be the fumes. Or the water.

Heartmongers are keeping the Love Alive!!

I went to the Heart show tonight. I have been a Heart fan since I was about 5. They were living, breathing, rocking proof that not all rockers had to be boys.

(Plus their music scratches that spot in my cerebral cortex that makes me happy.)

Anyway, about the show...... IT F*CKING ROCKED.

With an excellent version of White Lightning and Wine, they also smashed through classics (Barracuda/Crazy on You), a couple of good covers (Immigrant Song/Love, Reign o'er Me), and two songs off of Ann's new album.

Ann Wilson was in rare form, her voice much better than their last visit to Boston.

And Nancy Wilson is awesome. Really, she is a rock goddess.

I want be Nancy Wilson for a day... *sigh*

Good enough for an astronaut, good enough for me!

No, not adult diapers, I am talking about TANG!!!!

There is this drink that I secretly really love. It is called a Lost in Space.

It is made with vodka, Tang, and I think a little smidge of crack.

Whatever - the crack makes it good, the Tang makes me want another one.

Another thing for the list

I have a mental list of things I am not terribly likely to try in my lifetime.

A few items on the list include: running a marathon (see: Uta Pippig), play running back for the Patriots (I would be killed instantly and anyway #39 does a great job), drive a Formula One car around the track at Imola, make a cheese souffle for the Queen of England...

The most recent addition to that is: Enter a Food Eating Contest.

Don't get me wrong, I am fully capable of eating lots.

However when I over eat, all I want to do is have my stomach pumped, I wonder why Roman vomitoriums went out of style, and I lie in bed swearing to never eat again and to only have a little lemon juice and some lettuce for the rest of my days.

So when I read about people who are able to wolf down something ridiculous like 674 hotdogs in 48 minutes it makes my stomach go "blurp".

Not because of the amount the winner ate, but because of the amount that the runner up had to eat.


You'll notice in the picture there are four people huffing food. There can only be one winner.

It gives me a vicarious pain in my gut.

Blurp!

Fun with Fluff - Fluff Fluff Fluff Fluff Fluuuuuuuffffffff

I figure that I have probably eaten about two thousand fluffernutters in my short lifetime.

Not including the hundreds of mini-fluffernutters made on Ritz crackers.

I love Fluff (Marshmallow Fluff - NOT the Jet Puft Marshmellow Creme crap, THAT is NOT Fluff ok).

If I were twelve, you could probably get me to admit that I love Fluff so much, I would marry it.

So it's not a real shocker to hear that I will be going to the "What the Fluff" celebration of the stuff on Saturday, September 29 over in Somerville's Union Square, from 4-7pm.

I can't wait.

I think I am going to go make a fluffernutter right now.

What it means to be "whipped"

The term "whipped" can be applied to cream, butter, potatoes.... all manner of deliciousity.

It can also be used in reference to the guy on "Deal or No Deal" who obeyed his wife's command and lost $1,000,000.

He was pretending to decide whether to take the "Deal" or not - at her behest he had already passed up a tailgating truck that came with Superbowl tickets, on field tickets, lunch with the team, sex with a cheerleader.... stuff like that, oh and $97,000 cash.

Yep, she made him turn that down.

Instead, when he had four cases left, plus his own, the banker offered him $197,000 down from a previous offer of $240,000.

And his wife says "take the money, honey" and looks totally pissed while he thinks about it. She tells him again to take the money, reminding him that he has debts to pay, squinting her eyes, and crossing her arms.

Then she shoots him a look that says: IF YOU DON'T TAKE THIS OFFER I SWEAR TO JESUS THAT I WILL NEVER LET YOU SEE ME NAKED EVER AGAIN AND I WILL ALSO REMIND YOU OF YOUR FAILURES AS A MAN FOR ALL THE REST OF OUR DAYS TOGETHER

Even I felt it. It was terrifying. I thought my tv would burst into flames.

And he immediately took the deal.

But then in the end, even though he was whipped, she looked like the a@@hole because it turned out that he had the $1,000,000 case.

At least he'll still get to see her nekkid!

Baby snot washes right out.

Monday sucks. Bad day at work. It's cold out. I feel like poo.

But it's play group night. Every Monday night I go for two hours to a shelter for homeless women & children and play.

Yep - play.

Rolling on the floor, crayons, running in the yard, getting grubby, choochooo trains, the peanut butter song, juice and crackers kind of playing.

It's through a great organization, Horizons for Homeless Children, and now matter how totally sh*tty and awful my day has been, it all disappears when one of the kids says "c'mon let's play" or "sing me a song".

No one ever wants to hear me sing, except for these kids.

And at the end of the day it makes me take everything with a major chunk of salt.

We need more people to come and play. Sometimes I go on Wednesday's as well because we're short of people.

And we need a new playground out the back. Right now it's a dusty, dirty mess with lots of weird metal climbing-ish thingys that the kids just fall off. Plus all the boys want to play football or soccer and those dumb things just get in the way.

Anyone out there know anyone with a magic wand? Or a sack full of money?

But yeah so now I am home, covered in baby snot, peanut butter, dust, and a little crayon. And thinking, we need more volunteers.

It is fun. Dooooooooo it. You know you want tooooooooo..........

My secret dream dance sequence

In my dreams I don't have two left feet. And I can sing. And I am apparently married to Rick Rubin.

In my dreams, when I am not marrying music moguls, I construct intricate dance routines like this:



I am sorry - I know that it is being played to DEATH on tv right now.

But seriously, in my dreams I a) look totally hot in an blue spangled pantsuit and b) can dance like that.

Go to YouTube and check out this other Feist video: My Man My Moon
It's my other fantasy dance sequence...

Flashback and Flash-WAAAAY-Back

I was on YouTube looking for a Feist song (that post is coming) and found this video.



I am transfixed!

I love this song - it takes me back to about 1994-5 when the Evil Twin was at a Wikked Smaht Skoo down in DC and I would go down and visit her and listen to this song on my Walkman over and over again and pine over completely unrequited crushes.

And we'd talk about dumb boys and eat at Au Bon Pain and drink beers.

*Sigh*

Thank god for Mazzy Starr.

And for Rita & Fred.

GO PATS

Tonight, 8:15, Gillette Stadium, Pats v Chargers.

GO PATS

And for everyone who keeps writing about how Bill Belichick is an awful cheater who has ruined the Patriots, the game of football, and the integrity of ever single person in the entire Patriots organization, I say this:

Get bent.

Especially Margery Egan whose opinion piece in the Bawstin Hehrald today made her sound like a depressed menopausal woman without a sense of humor. (READ IT HERE)

Yeah, taping play calls for the other team is cheating. Just ask a number of other team coaches in the NFL. No one spends that much money on sports teams just to guess how the other team plays.

Belichick has to lose a first round draft pick, fork over $500K and some other stuff. And for this Margery Menopause Eagan thinks he ought to be burned at the stake, along with his baby-making man-whore QB Brady.

I wonder how she feels about Barry Bonds*? Or about the gambling NBA referee? Or about Chris Simon, the NHL player who called Mike Grier a certain racial slur beginning in "N" and then who intentionally bashed the face of another player.

I could go on, but then I'd sound like a depressed menopausal fun killer.

GO PATS!

Babies R Us

When celebs in HoHoHollywood don't do anything retarded for a while, gossip people start to make sh*t up.

Like saying people are pregnant just because the cracker they ate for lunch is distending their malnourished little bellies.

Well for s&g's let just say that if we use today as day one of conception then the following people ought to be squeezing out spawn on or before June 7th, 2008.

Top Five Hollywood Pregnancies:

1. Christina Aguilera
2. Jennifer Lopez
3. Angelina Jolie
4. Jamie Lyn Spears - yup, Britney's little sis!
5. Jake Gyllenhaal - yeah, no sh*t huh. No wonder Reece dumped his ass.

Tick tock tick tock!

Only 268 days to go!

I am going to be awake ALL NIGHT LONG!!!!!

Lalaalalalalallalalalalalala!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had 487 other things to do today but instead I wound up working with my friend MadMo, the Sassy Sauce maker, at the South End Open Market.

Currently she offers three kinds of sauce: Rum Caramel, Bittersweet Chocolate, and Peanut Butter Fudge. I don't have a preference since they all taste crackalicious to me anyway.

I meant to only pop by for a minute to say "Hi" and to get my free jar of sauce. But instead I got hooked on selling the stuff.

Seriously selling chocolate sauce is like selling crack. So easy to sell it once you get them to taste a little.

And for all my efforts I got to take home a couple of jars of the stuff. And of course I am about halfway through one of the jars of Peanut Butter Fudge. And I can already feel my heart beating a titch faster than normal.....

It's going to be a long night.

Two Sides, Same Coin

The houses to either side of me are now student rentals, where less than ten years ago it was crack peddlers...

On the one side I've got a house full of party hardy sort of inconsiderate but mostly friendly Northeastern students who think a party doesn't start until well after midnight.

While on the other side of me...

I have a house full of Conservatory students who politely asked me if I minded them having a party on Sunday night. They are going to have a brass band and things should start going around 4 PM

And they further assure me that it'll only probably go until 10 or 11pm. If that. So I should go early if I want to meet everyone for a drink.

And I just might - especially if there is going to be a brass band.

They write it, I read it...

Sometimes I laugh out loud:

"suspect then allowed the officer to check his pockets from which 5 hand rolled cigarettes of a green leaf matter were recovered. At this time the suspect stated to police 'oink oink'"

Cook, Eat, Photograph, Blog

I posted a link to my kitchen alter-ego.

For about 5 years now I have been trying to convince a number of friends to name their offspring Calamity Shazaam - it's a great name, you could hold a fistful of lightening in your bare hand with that kind of a name.

But no one has yet, so I am taking it back for myself.

Check it out yo! - link is to the right ------>

I hate that I love it

The one show that makes me laugh out loud is 30 Rock.

Holy frickin' funny Batman.

I still think Alec Baldwin is a major tool, and probably his character Jack Donaghy isn't far from the truth.

Elaine Stritch as his mother is hilarious.

There is this one scene where Jack ends up in the hospital and his mother won't go in to see him. So instead she says to the doctor:

"Tell him his mother’s here. And she loves him.

But not in a queer way!"

The OTHER Kind of Party Line

After my rant the other day about annoying drunken student neighbors, here's a little update.

So I called the landlord, told her what had happened, and then I went and rang the neighbors bell. Because these things can fester if left untreated.

At first the neighbor was like "what party?" and then when I laughed out loud, he denied all raucous behavior. When I explained to him about the police log and the horror stories, he sort of admitted that maybe there had been a couple of people over for a few drinks.

I explained that I fully expected that he and his buds would get together for a "few drinks" but that the next time that they carried on like that until 4am and were rude to other neighbors when asked to turn it down, I would call the police, the landlady, Northeastern's Department of Public Affairs, and Santa for good measure to make sure they are put straight onto the "Naughty" list.

He was pretty genuinely apologetic, and I sort of felt like the crotchety old lady on the block. But then again who wouldn't be crotchety if roused from a good night's sleep at 4am by drunkards.

Then today, I got this from My Man on a Bike:

RESOURCE FOR CITY RESIDENTS TO REPORT AFTER-HOURS PARTIES

The Boston Police Party Line is now in service citywide. The purpose of the Party Line is to give city residents a direct contact for reporting the occurrence of loud after-hours parties. Please make note of the telephone number, which is 617-343-5500.

Police Commissioner Ed Davis stated, "As part of our ongoing efforts to address public safety concerns and the reduction of violent behavior, the citywide party line is yet another tool to gather intelligence and provide residents with an additional mechanism to communicate with police. Mayor Menino and I heard the communities concerns about this issue and we sought to quickly provide a solution."

The Party Line is citywide, and each District will be responsible for dispatching its own unit to the reported location. All reports will be investigated. Illegal sale of alcohol and/or disturbances will be cause for police action. Please be prepared with important details when reporting an incident, they include:

· address
· whether the party is inside or outside
· the floor or apartment number
· whether the Boston Police would be able to gain entry to the building
· the amount of time the party has been going on

If the call is concerning a party that is no longer in progress, the caller will be referred to the District Community Service Officer. The Boston Police Intelligence Unit will continue to closely monitor calls and information concerning planned or anticipated after-hours parties. In these cases, a District Duty Supervisor will be notified and preventative measures will be taken.

The Boston Police recommend that residents take full advantage of this service as a means of preventing late night disorderly behavior, the increased possibility of crime and other incidents that result from after-hours gatherings. Do remember that in a case of an emergency situation, please dial 911.

It seems like pretty useful information. I hope you never have to use it.

PS: If you are looking for THAT kind of party line, click here instead.

In the Pantheon of Porcelain Gods, this would be Thor

I wear at least a 9.5 so that means that that is one big toilet seat.

Seriously.

I think in another life it was a life preserver.

In case you want to see it for yourself, it's at Nancy's.

How to scare burglars away

Frighten them off with "big sound".

Drunken Students - Grrr

This past weekend my new next door neighbors (Northeastern students) had a mad, drunken, event.

I hesitate to call it a party.

Anyway the drunken stupidity went from 11pm to after 4am. Apparently many other neighbors complained, several called the police, and a few went over and knocked on the door - all to no avail.

I was away for the weekend, but of course the minute I got back my phone started to ring. Something hasn't pissed off the neighbors this badly since street cleaning was started.

Evidently, in my absence, it was left to me to call the landlady to tell her about this. She didn't sound too happy. And if it happens again when I am home, she will be even less happy when I call her at 4am.

It would also seem that my yard was used as an overflow for the football competition - given the fact that I had to pick up lots of butts, cups, and other party flotsam.

I have no problems with about 87% of the student population in Boston. But it's the inconsiderate dopes who really give the whole lot a bad name.

Gahhhhh, ignorant party animals! Why can't they all live on campus?

Underwear in the bushes

One of the unfortunate side effects of drying your clothes outside on the line is that there is a very high risk of your underpants ending up on a shrub.

Whoopsie-daisy!

I had a few of my "foundation garments" on the drying rack yesterday, and I thought that I had hidden everything under dish towels. Um, because I am a modest Miss, thank you very much.

(And because if I didn't, my grandmere would probably rise up out of her tomb over in the old country, pick up the first Air France flight to Boston, hop in a taxi, and get her derriere all the way over to the 'hood just to give me a look that said "only brazen hussies flaunt their Petit Bateau en plein air for all the world to see, you naughty bad girl!")

However as I was watering my garden this evening, I found a stray pair of underpants in the impatients.

Zut alors!


**** UPDATE ****

I thought it was curious that my undies ended up halfway across the yard.....

My neighbor asked me if I found any of her laundry as some blew off her line. So now I am a) weirded out that I wear the same type of undies as my neighbor and b) intrigued by the fact that statistically speaking lots of people must wear the same kind. Hmmmmmm.

And for the record, I did not wear the found undies. I threw them away. They were in the garden all night long - what with the cats, birds, raccoons, possums, heroin addicts....

Mutherf*cker sold me WHAT?

From an actual police report that came across my desk today:

"When asked what type of plant was growing on his porch, the suspect responded "an East African geranium". It was in fact a large marijuana plant."

The Slow Dance

All weekend long this one radio station is playing blocks of Led Zepplin, a Get the Led Out kind of thing.

I love it. When I was a starry-eyed teenager I wanted to run off to some sun-splashed field of gold with Robert Plant. Ahhhh, *sigh*, I totally still would....

Anyway, at school dances they used to play "Stairway to Heaven" as the last song. All the girls hoped that the googly eyes they'd been making to all the googly boys would pay off and that they'd be asked to dance.

Really, it's a great song to end a teen dance on. It starts all slow and mushy, boys get a feel, girls get a feel and then before anything naughty could happen Jimmy Page and John Bonham would lay in with guitars and drums and everyone would quickly separate.

Like turning on the overhead light.

But nowadays the slow dance has become like the midday schooldays nap - I wish I had appreciated it more. Because now I definitely don't get enough of either.

And with that I ask you - what would be a great slow dance song to end the night? There is a little poll thingy on the right of the screen. Let me know. Maybe we can slow dance to it later.

Labor Day Weekend is Old School

Where I live, Fourth of July is for the kids (anyone under 45) and Labor Day is all old school.

I woke up three days in a row to the smell of BBQ wafting in the window, the sound of women laughing and of some of the best music you ever want to wake up to. And who doesn't want to wake up wanting a hamburger!

We begin with: Ladies and Gentlemen, MISTER OTIS REDDING!



And we finish with: GOOD TIMES



You cannot listen to Chic without wanting to shake something.

Happy Labor Day folks!

Behold the power of the Sun!

I have to say that I am becoming disturbingly earthy-crunchy, and I don't like it one bit.

Let's examine the evidence:

I recycle - most of the time. It's remarkable how much less garbage I produce when I consistently recycle/compost. (It was my only New Year's resolution - too embarrassing to fail when you only give yourself ONE!)

When I am not walking, I drive a beat-up Volvo sedan. I had to compensate with a Brockton Rox sticker in the window otherwise I feel I incite road rage among the Hemi set. (What can I say? The Champagne Supernova only cost me $650 on Craigslist)

I make my own yogurt and jam and bring my lunch to work almost everyday. (It's a) cheaper than eating out, and b) there is just so much fried chicken/pizza/subs/chinese that a person can eat in a week)

I go to the library. I go to the library A LOT. Seriously, the library is wayyyy underused. Did you know that you can check out DVDs? Plus the librarian at the Dudley Square branch is really nice and always hopes that God blesses me. How nice is that? Pretty nice! (My new job pays me in peanuts and good will. I am all about FREE these days!)

And the clincher today: my dryer is on the fritz and I cannot physically go one more day without clean clothes. I am too lazy to go to the laundromat, so I hauled all my clothes outside since it was a gorgeous blowy sunny day. Not only did all my laundry (shirts, jeans, sheets, & towels) dry in the sun in about 20 minutes, it didn't have that burny scorched smell. Rather it smelled a little like soap (enviro-friendly natch!) and a whole lot like sunshine. I want everything to smell that way! Behold, the power of the sun!

So anyway, I think I need to go to a football game with George Bush and get this earthy-crunchy-granola crap outta my system.

Ugh - September First

September first means summer is over.

And that the streets today were awash in a flood of of nervous out-of-towners driving moving trucks badly and wondering out-loud if the neighborhood that little John/Jane just moved into is safe.

OK for one thing, can everyone please stop driving moving trucks like they are Jettas?!? I mean really! A moving truck is not able to dart in and out traffic around other slower vehicles, it IS a slow vehicle! Or whiz onto the highway fast enough to not have to yield to oncoming traffic. Just not able!

And as a further consideration, check your side mirrors when you change lanes. Or at least indicate. You can't imitate our ways when you are not confident in a big, outta control, moving truck. Especially if you are in a U-Haul, because if you are in a fenda-benda you are f*cked!

While you are at it, you might also want to tell your beloved parents or whoever is moving you in, to not wonder out loud if the present neighborhood is safe enough for your precious self to live in.

It is rude, obnoxious, ignorant, and lets all your neighbors know that you are a big dork. You should tell them to keep their presumptive commentary to themselves. That they can blog about it bitchily later, just like yours truly! Or they should move you pronto to Brookline, it's generic and safe and goes over well with parents.

Otherwise, welcome to Boston.

Please keep your 16oz red cups to yourself.

You heard it here first

As some of you faithful readers may know, I recently had dealings with U-Haul. In a nutshell, some kids in a van came around a corner too hard and smashed my bumper off.

So now I have the most expensive bumper in Boston because secondhand sh*tbox bumpers are hard to find.

Anyway at the end of this ball of red tape I found out a number of things that make me think that there is something seriously fishy going on at U-Haul:

a) After all the paperwork had been processed, the claims person at U-Hauls insurance company told me that the van had suddenly been reported stolen. Hmmmm, after more than a month?

b) all U-Hauls (at the Mass Ave place anyway) are registered and licensed in Arizona. Hmmmm, that can't be legal. I didn't think vehicles could be registered out of state for that long, just think of all that potential revenue. Surely the Registry would want all that money in their coffers instead....

c) the vehicle was reported stolen like three weeks after it was in an accident. Now that just stinks like a 5 day old herring.

I think that at some future date there is going to be some big bust and we're going to find out that U-Haul is just a big front for something illegal.

And probably not something interesting like knock-off designer purses or jeans or cute shoes.

Remember, you read it here first!

Candygram for Mongo!

Blazing Saddles is one of my favorite movies of all times. I first saw it when I was probably 10 or so (it came on Betamax!) and that is when I first wanted to be Lily Von Schtupp.

For the life of me I could not figure out why my parents wouldn't let me go out at Halloween dressed like her. Luckily for me now that I am old I can do whatever I want. Like dress up like a naughty German saucepot whenever I feel like it.

Hmmm err oooo well....

Here is a bit of video (pretend it's fabulous Betamax!) goodness to brighten up your day. You are welcome! And uh check your volume.

I know I am going to get a ticket for this....

Seemingly overnight in the South End hundreds of little pedestrian crossing markers have popped up in every crosswalk. Personally I think these are a great idea. As a 65% pedestrian I know that pretty much theonly way to cross Tremont has been with speed and prayer.

The only place these flags haven't been placed are in the crosswalks at traffic lights. There the theory is that pedestrians cross when they have the little white walk figure. That's the theory anyway. Hundreds upon thousands of pedestrians observe this theory, and in general walk in concert with the flow of all traffic - bicycle, vehicle, animal...

However certain South Enders have a overly inflated sense of entitlement and so lots of them cross s-l-o-w-l-y when they don't have the light and try to stare down drivers to make them stop and reassure the whole universe that they are still the single most important thing since sliced bread.

(I am sure that other Enders do this too, but my recent experience has been with the South type)

How that doesn't get more people killed I will never know.

Sure makes me want to gun for them though!

Look to the right

Under "Check It Out Yo" there is now a link to my photos on a map!

I take a lot of photos.

Then those pictures sit around idly on my computer doing nothing but taking up space and giving themselves silly names like 1009992DXV.pic and now I am going to put them on a map to give them something useful to do.

I've gotten about 20 up. That leaves about 987 to go.

*sigh*

Here is a sample, plus proof that gas was cheap once.

One More Pointy Head

While I am curious to see if Brig-Brig & Tom's little quarter-tot has a pointy head too, I am just as curious to see how long Gisele sticks around.

She must either be on some seriously strong babystopper pills or she doesn't ever drop the nickel she keeps between her knees.

Because there is no way Tom is going to ruin her figure with a hit & run impregnation.

I think that now that the QB baby is a reality (not just a scary & painful looking bump screwed onto Brig-Brig's tummy) it's going to be hard for Tom to score a touchdown - *nudge*nudge*wink*wink....

Why I sometimes can't sleep at night.

There are two things in this world that ruin a person for life.

One is the fast food french fry. "They" lightly coat them with crack and once you have one you will forever crave one more for the rest of your life.

There really is no point in denying this. It is a scientific fact. Heck, it's probably even a mathematical fact.

The second thing that ruins a person for life occurs when a person is about 7 years old and some kindly teacher says: "The universe is more vast than the human brain can comprehend and no one can ever even define how big it truly is. How small do you think that makes you?"

What?!?

So every now and then, probably for the rest of time, I will occasionally accidentally keep myself up too late at night wondering how big exactly is the universe and if it is that infinite and the size is actually undefinable then isn't it weird that we can say for certain how small the smallest thing is but maybe we really can't say for certain what the smallest thing is because we can't squint that hard?

And that in the relative scale of things as I know them - a light year is BIG, which means I am small, and which then means that theoretically Angelina Jolie should be invisible, which in turn means I can stop dieting!

Ahhhh, and that is usually the point where I fall soundly asleep!

Dudley Square

For the past few weeks my walk to work has taken me through Dudley Square and I have to say that everyday I see something interesting that I missed the in the days previous.

Dudley Square is lively in a way that reminds me of some of the places I've seen in the Caribbean & West Indies and visually interesting in an old Boston brick & painted signs way. There are lots of cool faded old painted ads on tucked away walls - if I get a chance I will try to get some photos posted.

At lunchtime I've been hitting up the various eateries in the area - Arizona's for pizza, Kennedy's for chicken, Stash's for salad, and it's all been good. Although in the interest of saving money I am trying to bring my lunch everyday.

The old (and falling down at an alarming rate) Ferdinand's furniture store is allegedly going to be turned into a city office and hopefully the independent shops will get more business from them. There is an independent pharmacy that competes with the Walgreens down the road and there is a Payless and a Foot Locker but for the most part the shops are small and locally owned.

Plus now that Tropical Foods is on my way home I never have to go to Stupid Stop & Shop again! Not only that, but they carry THREE brands of burnt sugar! Yay for Black Cake fans!

Two Juvvies in Tents!

So last night the Evil Twin and I went to the pre-season Pats game versus the Titans.

I managed to cajole the sis into taking the train (no sitting in traffic! cheaper than parking!) and off we went to Gillette courtesy of the MBTA.

Let me also just say that the only reason we were going was because the weatherman said it wasn't going to rain.

But of course as soon as we start walking across the parking lot we begin to feel the splat splat splat of fat raindrops! Gah! Stupid idiot weatherman!

And not only that but there were two women walking next to us saying how when ever they went to a game it rained. I was like "bitches go HOME" but whatever.

Well let me tell you, it rained from the minute we got to the stadium to the end of the first quarter. Blech!

Eventually we broke down and bought a pair of flimsy ponchos and headed out to our seats. After a long stretch of water torture, we headed back up to the concourse to watch from under the overhang.

Finally the rain ended and we were back in our seats by the second quarter.

We kept the ponchos on though. Which kind of started to give off a distinct tent smell.

Anyway, Pats didn't win.

However there were some spectacular tackles (one by Junior Seau comes to mind - dude jumped the guy!) and anyway having to wait out the rain on the concourse is always a great excuse to eat cheese fries!

GO PATS

Patriots v. Titans

Ahhhh the Evil Twin still loves me because tomorrow night she is taking me to the Pats pre-season versus the Titans.

My love for the Patriots is purely physical - there is no logic or strategy involved here.

Just walking into the stadium is a visceral experience for me - the music (AC/DC what else), the fat cups of beer, the lights, the militia, the diversity of the crowd...

This is SO not a baseball experience.

I can't wait.

I love football.

GO PATS!

The Cat Shat

My neighborhood is overrun by feral cats.

All the neighbors got together to have them neutered & spayed and that was the one kitty caca free week in my backyard.

*Sigh*

I would love trap them all and drop them off out in Holyoke, but sadly I just really don't have the time.
(This scheme also includes the two cats that actually belong to people - if you have a cat but can't care for it properly, off it goes to Holyoke!)

Anyway I am first going to try some non-toxic methods to keep the cats away.

Someone suggested that I put out a litter box, but I don't want to be the sh*t station for the whole neighborhood.

Another suggestion was to sprinkle cat food on the area of excrement, the theory being that cats won't eat where they crap, and quite frankly who would. But again, I don't want to encourage them to be there in the first place.

I looked up a few solutions, mostly involving hot pepper which just seems cruel and useless. One idea is to sprinkle the area with grated Irish Spring soap - the shreds of which made my yard smell, well, spring fresh I guess and which puffed up weirdly in the rain.












That kept the cats away for about a week.

But now they are back. And full of poo that they leave for me like little stinky dumplings.

Anyone have any other suggestions? Preferable not of the shoot them, poison them, put them in a bag and toss into the river ilk please!

Fun Times Ahead

The reason I haven't posted anything is because I got a new job.

I feel like I have been learning to speak a new language.

Phew!

The Most Annoying Man on Public Television

If I worked at PBS I would definitely implement a new fund raising strategy.

Their current one SUCKS.

About every three months or so the folks over at WGBH run a fund raising week.

I am not sure which is more irritating -

Scheduling something really interesting just to interrupt every few minutes with donation requests.

OR

One more night in Vienna with Andre Rieu.

A Lead Umbrella

That is what my po-po friend told me I would need this summer, since the forecast was for a summer of bullet hail.

And you know, I am thinking he might have been a little bit right.

This morning as I was driving down the street I noticed long strips of yellow crime scene tape roping off the last quarter of the block.

And then I noticed several bloody towels & tee shirts hanging on a fence.

And about eight crime scene/police vehicles double parked.

And a really new looking cop guarding the scene.

And a scattering of yellow tent cards dotting the courtyard.

Seemingly someone got shot, but will survive - I looked for it in the papers but nothing.

Weird.

I'll get you my pretty and your little pushcart too!!

The Heraldo is running and article today about the pushcarts being pushed out of Downtown Crossing.

And rumor has it that all the food windows have to close. Heck, maybe they all are already closed....

I get why it is happening - someone at the BRA decided South Endify Downtown Crossing and that means no gritty city crap allowed.

I wonder where Hip Zepi is going to go?

Although if they close Falafel King heads will ROLL!



I sure hope that Downtown Crossing doesn't turn into some overpriced tourist destination mall like Fanueil Hall.

And I know that I am from Boston because I know what hot subway and hot candied nuts smell like in the blustery sea-salty wind that whips damply through the buildings. And you only smell that smell in Downtown Crossing.

That's the way the cookie crumbles

Anyone from/living in Boston knows that the city is run by about 6 competent people and about 6800 total boobs.

A handful of these boobs work at the BRA (Boston Redevelopment Authority).

The BRA should been dismantled - it is mostly corrupt and out of touch with the needs of the city. Criticism of the BRA has come up recently due to the fact that they've made some questionable approvals with regard to university expansions in both Roxbury and Brighton.

On a personal level, yesterday they awarded a parcel of land to a neighbor. Let me just say that of all the people in the neighborhood there are two people I don't like and this neighbor is one of them.

Over the years I have watched him as he has slowly turned his house into a dilapidated sh*tbox.

First there was the "roofdeck" he installed. Cobbled together with stair balusters, bits of string, and odd ends of wood, it is mostly now rotted and threatens to blow away in a stiff wind.

Then there was the time he woke everyone at 2am by jackhammering the cement steps off the back of his house - in boxer shorts of all things. Then he built in wooden steps and added on a long corrugated shelter over the stairs, like a big slide off the back of the house.

Not done with the jackhammer, he then turned his attention to the side of his house, jackhammering a big rectangular-ish hole in the exterior wall. Which he then filled in with a piece of wood (to brace the space) and glass block and a wooden shutter.

When the building department came by, they asked him to close it up. He said he would but never did and that was about 5 years ago now. They also told him to sort out the "roofdeck" and that is still there.

So now the BRA looked at his application and decided he was clearly the best candidate for the vacant lot. And yes, I applied also, just to see what would happen.

The BRA has put restrictions on the parcel. It has to remain an open greenspace. And if he wants to build anything on it he has to submit architect plans for approval, and he can't use it for parking - among other things.

If he doesn't comply with these restrictions he will forfeit the property. At least that is what the BRA claims.

I say that is bullsh*t.

He is planning on adding more windows, a deck with an overhang, and a six foot chain link fence.

If it were any number of my other neighbors, I would be more enthusiastic. But because it is this clown with a jackhammer doing the work himself, I am kind of bummed.

As for the permits and plans he needs, I doubt he will complete that part since he has a serious disdain for city authority unless it serves his needs. When they started the street sweeping program, he ran out to the city workers, screaming at them that they were Nazis and took photos of them as "evidence" of their Nazism. Did I mention he is from Germany himself?

He will wreck the parcel just like he has done to the exterior of his house and to the apartment he rented over the winter and like the house he bought in western Mass when he thought he was going to move away.

Way to go BRA!

My Dream Traffic Nightmare

From the Odds & Ends wire:

CHEESE TRUCK FIRE MAKES FREEWAY FONDUE

Really?

If I was in that traffic jam, sorry, that traffic fondue, I would have thought I had died and gone to heaven.

Especially if the cheese truck had smashed into a toast point truck!

The Emperor is Not Wearing Clothes

For the most part I like the police. Most of them anyway.

I know that that there are a few rotten apples and of course like everyone else I hate seeing blue lights in my rear view. And I especially HATE getting pulled over for speeding, especially since I NEVER speed.

And yeah, I think some changes should be made within the BPD, but I also firmly believe in personal responsibility, community engagement and being a good neighbor - all these things help keep neighborhoods safe.

Which means that if you witness a crime, call the cops. If someone is screaming for help, call the cops. If you can drop a dime, drop it. Problems don't solve themselves - desire and effort and work do.

Not everyone agrees with this though.

Lots of folks believe that neighborhood safety falls squarely on the the shoulders of police and politicians and when crime happens it's because the BPD f*cked up. Often these are the same folks who won't cooperate with police, or be witnesses, or report crimes - who then say they are afraid because of all the "bad" cops.

After the year we've been having, there are those who really believe that it's the police department who is at fault that the crime is high and that some murders remain unsolved. And Commissioner Davis takes this sentiment personally.

So now the Commish want to calm the masses with a BPD shakeup - appointing a new head of homicide, among other things.

And everyone is apparently thrilled with this new arrangement. Even if they can't tell the wolf for the sheepskin he is sporting.

Those who are thrilled are overlooking the scary fact - that the person they just put in charge of the homicide unit is a publicity scrounger who vows to impress with numbers.

What? Now that can't be a good idea.

The only way that is going to happen is to have officers make lots of arrests quickly, preferably in time for the 11'o clock news. Or the morning edition.

Great news for people of color hanging out on Boston streets late at night. Or for some poor slob driving their rusted out sh*tbox Camaro down Broadway in Southie after some packy gets robbed.

And it's a big problem when he encourages his officers to arrest the most guilty looking person - oh wait, I mean the person who looks like the most probable cause of trouble, because the arrest-first-sort-thing-out-later method sometimes results in finding out your "perp" was really hanging out with a cop, at Boston cop no less. Read about that HERE.

Like I said, everyone is thrilled, except for dedicated "good" cops who believe in doing things the right way rather than the easy way and for the folks at the DA's office who know that prosecuting crime is not at all like you see on Law & Order - that prosecuting crime takes time and patience and sometimes disappointment.

But you know what, until a crime happens to you personally, you can't imagine what it would be like to be ground through the system just to then find out that the police made an arrest for show and that the real culprit was still out there, getting away with it.

Best Breakfast in Boston

Ok, well my friends are going to kill me, but eh whatever.

Since Mike's is now waaaaaayyyyyy over-rated and over-populated we went to Jaks on Northampton Street, down by Harrison Ave - right next to LiquorLand.

And you can park at LiquorLand, but you just need to get a sticker from Jaks.

Seriously - great breakfast and lots of food for cheap.

Check out their menu HERE

VROOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!

I went to see Transformers this weekend and LOVED it - well almost all of it.

All of it except about 10 minutes in the big fight scene that dragged the ending out like a drunken party guest at 3am.

However what I really wanted after I left the theater was one of these:


VRRRRROOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM!

How to Get a Free Punch in the Stomach

My Mom called me up today to pass on a story of something that happened to a co-worker today.

Seemingly this co-worker was taking the train today along with a woman with a dog who was carrying a large suitcase.

Who knew you could take a dog on the T, but whatever.

Anyway, Co-Worker watches as the Suitcase Lady is chatted up by a fellow male passenger. As they are getting off the train at Park Street, the FMP offers to help her with her suitcase. He inquires about the contents of this unwieldy case and she replies:

"Electronics"

To which he responds by punching her in the stomach, grabbing the case, and taking off.

Whoops!

But really the "whoops" is on him.

Turns out the Suitcase Lady was either a vet or going to the vet (I missed this part of the story) because the contents of the case had nothing to do with "electronics", but instead contained the remains of a deceased dog.

So how was YOUR commute?

Best Lunch on a Sh*t Hot Day

Evil Twin and I went to Farm Grill & Rotisserie today for lunch. It's this Greek place over in Snoootun, complete with pictures of Greece and white statuettes every where.

I got a Greek salad with gyro chicken - the sad remains of which are pictured below. It was sooo delicious that I almost bit off my own hand trying to get a picture.


And then I also got a dose of Galaktobouriko which comes out sounding a little bit like Galapagos Burrito. But it's kind of like a custardy baklava and is f*cking yummy! I had it once and have craved it ever since.



I think Greek food is the Next Big Thing.

And seeing as how I am the Food Psychic you can expect to see the Bohstin Globe feature all things Greek in the next month.

Mumbles vs Guns - Someone is Shooting from the Hip Again!

Oh for the LOVE of PETE! Mumbles Menino has declared a "war" on illegal guns.

That is fighting violence with violence basically.

Menino should not be allowed to talk in public, or to the public, or in general really. When he is in an agitated state he gets loud and incoherent and spittle-ly.

So while Menino was off on some junket in La-La-land a 7 year old shoots an 8 year old. And there is nothing the Mayah hates more than being out of town when the sh*t hits the fan.

Which means that Bostonians can expect some blustery knee jerk reaction. Which apparently is going to manifest itself as a "WAR" on illegal guns.

I hope it's all SWAT team, helicopters, searchlights, dogs, helmets, vests, battering rams, and oh yeah don't forget - big guns!

And now that it's about 42 millions degrees with 97% humidity I bet tempers start flaring raaaather quickly.

I am not sure what kind of relief there could be, but I doubt if being all finger pointy and puffed chesty is going to help at all.

Note to self - Don't eat the grout

I am trying to tackle a VERY ambitious mosaic grouting project and now I HATE grout.

It looks like Marshmallow Fluff, has about the same consistency, and I really want to put some on a Ritz cracker along with some peanut butter.

But that's because I am a little high from leaning over this dumb project inhaling the fumes.

Stupid stuff - you schmeer it on, push it in, let it set up and then wipe it off. Sounds SOOOO easy.

Hah!

If I was just trying to grout little square mosaic squares I think this would be a much easier process, but nooooooooo. I have to try my hand at a multi dimensional grouting project.

Gah. I need a nap.

The Most Expensive Pants EVAH!!!!!

I have sort of been following that story of the Washington DC guy who sued his dry cleaner for $54,000,000 for f*cking with his pants.

Roy Pearson took the adage about a customer being right to the extreme and tried to take the cleaners to the cleaners.

This case has completely fascinated me - how on earth could anyone justify $54 million dollar pants? I don't think that I have the nuts necessary to take that kind of claim to court, but that's just me.

Today however a judge threw the case out. About time anyway.

Now Pearson has to pay all the legal fees. Which means those pants are going to cost him several hundred thousand dollars. Way more that the $29 bucks he spent on them at TJ Maxx.

Maybe he should Ebay them - recoup some of that moolah.

I think he meant "Bongo Hits 4 Jesus"

The Supreme Court today told this kid that he couldn't fly a banner at his school that read "Bong Hits 4 Jesus" because it promoted drug use. The kid just said it was a non-nonsensical saying.

Uh, are you kidding?

"Bong Hits 4 Jesus" means to smoke marijuana out of a bong in the name of Jesus. Duh.

But why bother smoking pot in the name of someone so unappreciative?

Why not "Bong Hits 4 Jerry Garcia"? Or "Bong Hits 4 Cheech"?

I mean really, "Bong Hits 4 Jesus" is like "Bong Hits 4 Rumsfield" - a buzz kill man.

Happy Birthday Dad

I sure am glad you were born.

Yeah, Dan Shaugnessy IS a bonehead.

Thanks to Universal Hub I was alerted to the fact that other people also think that Dan Shaughnessy is a bonehead.

Hey! What can I tell you, I don't really like the Bohstin Glowb. I can barely read the Food Section, never mind the Sports pages. So my knowledge of who is who and what they write and basically most stuff about the Red Sox is beyond me.

However I do think that Dan Shaugnessy is a bonehead because one time he stole my soda.

A friggin' 25 cent soda. What a chump.

SCHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOPPPPPPP

That is the sound of me getting sucked into a sand hole.

Yep, evidently they pose a greater danger than sharks. Read about it HERE.

Which is why I haven't posted diddleysquat in about 3 weeks.

I was busy digging my way back up from China.

Starbucks - The Surrogate Office

Today I went to Starbucks.

I will confess that I am more of a Dunkins girl, but my Evil Twin had called me urgently telling me that something crazy was going on at the Starbucks over on Storrow Drive.

A little corporate craziness was afoot and I had to check it out for myself.

I usually associate Starbucks with oversized couchy chairs, big mugs, Missed Connections, and Macs. Not at all so at this particular Starbucks!

This is the Starbucks where people who've been downsized go to "work" when they can't tell their spouse that they are technically no longer actually employed.

I couldn't stop staring. There were deals being made on the sidewalk out front, folks with complicated looking blueteeth contraptions clapped to their ears, job interviews being conducted in comfy chairs, lots of keyboard keys being poked at urgently....

It was weird - it was like being in an office. An office with a really comprehensive cafeteria!

PS: The Starboobies are a gift. Who doesn't love a little subtle ta-ta graffti?

It appeals to my sense of adventure.

There is a hole in the ground over by Copley Place would appear to drop you straight into New York City.


If only it were that easy.
I would definitely go more often.

Parking with the Spirit

Last week my Evil Twin and I were in her car and she was about to park on Comm Ave.

Blinker is on, car is in reverse so presumably the little white lights in the rear are on, and there's no traffic so she begins to reverse into the space. I will also put it out there that both my sister and I are city girls and KNOW how to parallel park without hesitation, yo!

Suddenly a bonehead from Connecticut come bombing up the road and comes to a screeching halt behind her - well maybe not screeching because Connecticut cars don't screech, they politely come to a stop and offer you a Bremner Wafer before asking you to move.

Anyway this knucklehead rolls down the passenger side window and screams:

"WHAT IN THE CHRIST ARE YOU DOING??!?!?!"

Huh?

Reverse lights on, blinker on, backing up, angling the car toward the curb...... hmmmm......

"HAIL MARY WE ARE PARKING THE F*CKING CAR!!!!"

Brockton ROX!

Ok I will be the first to admit that until about two weeks ago I was like "Brockton? Blegh!"

Brockton has this kind of grody reputation that is only half deserved. Parts of it are sort of grody, but other parts are actually pretty cool and funky.

And I am irrationally biased against the word "Brockton" which is often pronounced "Brawk-tin". Ugh. "Brawk-tin Rawks" Gah.

My Evil Twin's friend Andy manages the Brockton Rox.

A few weeks back he invited us to a Patriots Charity Softball match hosted by Kevin Faulk and not only did we get to shake hands with the likes of Laurence Maroney (friendly!), Rosevelt Colvin (charming), Ben Watson (shy!), and Ellis Hobbs (party boy!) but we also got to meet the militia who fire the muskets for the home game touchdowns - very exciting!

Since we had a great time at that event, saw that Campanelli Stadium was an actual stadium and not some dusty concrete sun trap, and were basically treated really well by staff that actually seems to enjoy what they do, we figured why the heck not go to the Brockton Rox home opener.

Well for one thing the game was on a Friday night at 7pm.

Ok, it's the Friday night of Memorial Day weekend and for one thing traffic was AWFUL and matters were not helped when Evil Twin said "this traffic's not so bad" just before we came around the bend into bumper to bumper traffic about 3 miles up from the Braintree split. If yer from heah, you know exactly what I am talking about. If not, well there are no words to adequately express that kind of frustration.

So instead of trying to get down to Brockton via 93 to 95 to 24 to 123, we cut through Weymouth and took 18 to 123. Sounded simple enough huh.

And we were making ok time until an unfortunate left turn was further compounded by a erroneous right and we ended up in the sh*ttiest part of Brockton.

So we stopped at a crappy little gas station, which smelled alarmingly overpoweringly like gasoline, and where the attendant gave my boobs directions and where PeanutButterJellAmy bought a banana to further confound the attendant.

Then just as we thought we were on the right road, the road was suddenly closed by the fire department because suddenly something was on fire...

Just when we were deciding to head back to Boston, or to anywhere else but Brockton, we magically stumbled across Campanelli Stadium.

Why press on you ask? Just to give you an idea of why this is worth it:

Parking - $5
Tickets behind homeplate - $12
Concessions - ~$15 per person, we were hungry.

And the game was actually exciting - there was a heckler behind me who kept me in stitches, bases were just barely stolen, a couple of thrilling slides into home, a sequined Neil Diamond impersonator to lead the crowd through Sweet Caroline at the seventh inning and fireworks after the game.

I would definitely go again.

And if you get a chance you should too. At the most you are going to be out like $20. And if you don't drive, there is public transportation down from Boston and back.

Go Rox!

The OTHER dimension

Sometimes when I am looking for something that I could have sworn was right there one minute ago, I am convinced it's been sucked into that OTHER dimension.


Turns out it's been getting sucked in to a GIANT RING OF MATTER.





Yeah, sometimes thinking about the universe and how big it is and how big two clusters have to be to crush together to create a GIANT RING OF MATTER blows my frickin' pea-brain.

Something is wrong in the universe.

Today the westbound lanes of the Mass Turnpike were jammers while the people in the eastbound lanes just sailed by. Basically is was busier heading OUT of the city instead of IN.

What the f*ck is THAT all about???? On a Monday morning???

This trend is also occurring in traffic heading north into Boston on 93 at 5pm.

It used to be that traffic coming IN to the city during the morning rush hour was the b*tch, as was the traffice heading OUT. Now it's all reversed.

I blame global warming.

Wait a minute! Where's me jumpah?

There is a nightclub a few block from where I live that has been closed for a little while now.

The owner is currently trying to sell it and transfer the liquor license. There was meeting to talk to the neighbors about this plan and some neighbors are for it, others against it - almost everyone though thought the new owner was a bit shifty.

I know that there are many reasons for and against having a night club in a primarily residential neighborhood - everyone has an opinion.

Personally, I don't care but last night a female patron from the other neighborhood nightclub (we've got two plus a "gentleman's" club) squatted and peed on the sidewalk.

Two things about that: GROSS! and GREAT! that she managed sh*tfaced to pee on the ground. I can't do that - stone cold sober and I would STILL piss on my ankle.

Seasonal Disorder

Ok so realistically it's only May 11th.

But the recent spell of fine weather means that everything has bloomed and gone green. Well mostly everything - somethings are still branchy, which then makes them look dead.

And they really aren't dead, it is just still kind of early in the season, and they are just taking their sweet time.

Which reminds me that spring and fall aren't so much seasons as kerfuffles that winter and summer go through to get here.

Seriously.

Stuff you never remember in time....

So after some yoohoo banged up the Shampagne Super Nova I had to rent a car. Because quite frankly I am not going to take two buses for over an hour just to get to work in the morning.

I went to the local Enterprise car rental agency and got the cheapest car they had. But because I don't carry collision on my own car, I had to make sure I had it for the rental.

So I bought it the extra insurance. Boy am I stupid.

Turns out I already have it with the credit card I used to pay for the freakin' car.

And of course the woman at Enterprise was like "well that's not our problem and there is NOTHING we can do about it now".

Ugh.

Next time it's anyone BUT Enterprise.