Hose Killer

I have the unique ability to destroy a garden hose with a single touch. And with only a few seconds of contact, I can destroy the hose hangout too. I do not know anyone else to possess this talent.

After committing several hose murders, Laura suggested we get an expensive rubber hose that would surely be immune to my touch of death. So we went to our neighborhood lawn and garden center and bought a $60 hose. But after putting a slit through it a few months later, I feared Laura would find out and beat me with the newly broken hose.

So I tried to patch it up with some duct tape. Unfortunately, the hose was in a kink as I wrapped it up, so my patchwork looked, well, awful.

Despite my efforts, Laura eventually saw my mangled mess a few weeks later. “What’s this?” she asked. And in an attempt to avoid answering her question (or at least cause a delay until I could come up with something good), I answered her question with a question. “What’s what?” I said.

But there was no fooling her. In fact it was obvious to everyone in the garage (even the spiders) that this hose was my latest victim. My hands were green with evidence (well, not literally).

So as summer approaches, I’m going to try to stay away from our hoses and save my cutting for the umbilical cord.

Feeling Downloaded

I bought an Amazon Kindle, and I sort of feel as though I’ve contributed to creating a lesser world.

A year ago, I laughed at the idea of buying an e-reader, and now I find myself holding one in my living room. It’s really weird and I feel I’m losing my grip on myself.

So am I contributing to a potentially bookless future? Am I the enemy? Or am I helping to save the world by using less paper? Who am I?

I really don’t want to become a yuppy, so like Mike & The Mechanics, I’ll say it loud and say it clear: I prefer books bound and with real pages; books that don’t rely on electricity or technology; books that don’t need access to my bank account. Bound books will never go away. It’s a medium that has survived thousands of years.

So what should I do now? Return the Kindle? I will admit that it’s pretty neat. Maybe I’ll use it for magazines or reading classics I’ve missed in my younger years. Maybe download a game or two?

My Brief Visit to Clown Town

I saw something today that I don’t see too often: Clown art. (And by “clown art,” I mean paintings of people dressed as clowns… not sculptures created by clowns.)

I caught only a glimpse of the piece hanging on someone’s office wall. It looked as though a clown was walking across an empty void, just below five large clown heads. Perhaps this was the walking clown thinking about his other clown friends… or maybe the clown heads represented the founding clowns of America (if there is such a thing)?

Whatever the case may be, the painting was more than odd, and I immediately thought of those with an irrational fear of clowns. This freaky painting would surely send them to a psych ward. And I’m not a clown-fearing person, but I could see the painting’s horror potential.

This has been my incomplete thought of the week. Thank you.

Baby Cake

After keeping the secret from our families for nearly a week, Laura and I decided to tell everyone that we did in fact learn of the baby’s gender during our last sonogram.

We shared the news by baking a cake and dying the inside either blue or pink. When it came time for dessert, the first cut into the cake determined the gender. The cake was pink.

It was a real surprise because many of us were convinced it was a boy (including me). But who really knows? Baby could have been tucking it back in an attempt to foil our preparations. (I’m obviously skeptical.)

But whether it’s a boy or a girl, I will love my baby… and I don’t need an ultrasound technician to tell me this.

Fine Job, Julie

A van crashed into a nearby house earlier this evening.

My wife and I were at home considering dinner at our favorite Mexican eatery when we heard what sounded like an avalanche. The electricity flickered off and on and then stayed off. We rushed to the window to see neighbors running down the street. That’s when I put some pants on and ventured out.

About a third of the van was in the house. The driver fled the scene but was kind enough to turn the van’s hazard lights on before running away. My wife joined me and a few other neighbors to gawk at the scene and snap a few photos. I wanted to submit a photo to a news station, but Laura saw this as rude. Needless to say, someone else got their photo on TV.

So after a few slack-jawed moments, we went back into our house and got dressed for a refried bean fiesta. But before we left, I noticed a camera man walking through our yard, on his way to the scene. That’s when I saw her – Julie Fine from WPXI!

Julie is one of my favorite reporters. She’s quite professional and never looks the same twice. “Hold on!” I told Laura as I left her at the car and headed for the crowd. I could see that Julie was asking for testimonials from my neighbors.

For some reason or another, I looked back at the car where I left Laura. She was motioning me to return to the car. I turned around like a sucker. She was hungry.

The story is here. They may post Julie Fine’s video later. (I already saw the segment on the 10:00 news . You’ll see my neighbors but you won’t see me.)

What Do You Think?

So what do you think of this new layout? Let me know in the comments below!

Sing Talk: An Afternoon With Ke$ha

So far, the worst part about this pregnancy (for me) is the regular cleaning of the box containing our cat turds and piss clumps. I often scoop the soiled sand rather hastily, kicking up particles into my mouth, my hair and, of course, onto my clothes. (Perhaps I should see this as practice for the human waste coming soon.)

And even though baby has yet to arrive, it’s rare that I get a chance to enjoy myself. On Saturday night, I got the call that would change everything. My friend Pete invited me to see Kesha (or Ke$ha if you want to be technical about it) on Sunday afternoon in Oakland, next to the Cathedral of Learning. Watching her perform dirty songs in skanky outfits would be the perfect after-Church activity.

The concert was outdoors, and we couldn’t have asked for a better day. It was just the right amount of warm and cool; perfect cola-sippin’ weather.

The die-hard Kesha fans took the fist dozen or so rows, tossing everything from clothes to crutches (I have the pictures to prove this). During the 45 minute free show, she talked dirty, welcomed Santa Claus to the stage and had some guy dressed as a human wang hop around the stage. It was the ideal freak show, but I felt sorry for Pete who, at one point, just stood there, staring at the sidewalk with his arms crossed. I told him to at least pretend he was excited before someone took a video and posted it on You Tube with the title “Unenthusiastic Ke$ha Fan.”

I have to admit that it seemed out of place to have an artist like Kesha in the middle of Pittsburgh’s academic capital. But on the other hand, it also made the most sense (i.e. drunken student bodies).

It was fun but in the back of my mind I knew piss clumps awaited me at home. And you can imagine the size of these clumps when the urine comes from a +30 pound cat. That’s right. Thirty pounds.