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by Richard Timothy | Feb 2, 2010 | Contemplating Complements, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
This morning was a “daaaaaamn” kind of morning. You know the kind, where you wake up with the instant realization that that you slept a bit wrong and as you sit up your neck begins unleashing a slew of profanity that would even cause the late Richard Pryor to cautiously pause and reflect that you have one pissed off neck. As you sit on the edge of your bed you attempt the simplest of side to side neck stretches and as you do so your entire world begins moving in slow motion. Then as you attempt to curse out the pain, the pain takes up all your oxygen and most of you vocal ability and all you can really muster is a very softly and slowly spoken, “daaaaaaaaaammmmmnnnnn.”
So yeah, it was an orange juice and ibuprofen breakfast. One of the things you can count on in these situations is the thought of when you last got a massage and if there is any stock or old Star Wars figurines you could sell in order to get the funds to have a traveling masseuse… sorry, massage therapist (as they prefer to be called) make a house call and squeeze, press, and pummel some of your tightened muscles into submission and relaxation.
While fondly remembering my last massage I recalled a conversation that the massage therapist and I had. To give credence to this conversation I’d like to point out a few things. You know when you were younger… or last week, or maybe twenty minutes ago while you were working out, one of the universal attributes that most people seem to equate to a higher yumminess score on the attraction scale has to do with a lovely and well sculpted gluteus maximus. I’m not even going to talk about how many times did that damn Buns of Steel tape. You might laugh, but at my peak, I cracked three different toilet seats.
There is something gravitational about an individual’s neither regions that is renowned for pulling eyes in its direction. This happen when the back region in question is departing from groups of people, random strangers, or spouses of thirty or more years. On the average, people like to check out derrieres. There’s really no polite way to say it. Also, this is not a sexist thing. It applies to men and women alike, and perhaps 99.9% of the Mammalia phylum… or mammals in general. Not to mention, people are constantly checking out their own butts. When people go shopping for new jeans what is the key purchasing point… if your hinder looks good the sale is ensured.
I remember having the occasional flutter of adolescent desire and imagine the “cute girls” having that “whose got a cute butt” conversation where my name might come up at some point in the discussion. Of course nowadays, I’m just excited that I still have something that resembles a butt as opposed to piece of particle board with a crack in the middle… no one likes falling victim to flat butt syndrome.
Still, one term that is generally used in describing a tushies magnetism and discussional fine points is its firmness, nay, its tightness. That being said, there is an important clarification that needs to be made. It’s considered a positive thing to HAVE a tight ass, as opposed to BEING a tight ass. These are two very different things, with very different meanings, and I felt the clarification was noteworthy.
Likewise, and this is what I wanted to get to about the conversation I had with my last massage therapist, which also needs to be clarified. When your massage therapist tells you that you have a tight ass, this is not a compliment… do not say thank you. Trust me on this. They will never find it as amusing as you do. In fact, they will never find it amusing… ever.
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: sore neck, massage therapist, looking at butt in mirror, and working out.
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by Richard Timothy | Jan 29, 2010 | I Just Don't Get It, I Think There's a Point, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
I’m finally going to do it. I’m going to Smirk my way into the political realm. I have no intention telling people what to think, or how to vote. I’m a firm believer of getting your own opinions in regards to politics and then never ever share those opinions with anyone ever, unless of course, you are congregated with a group of like minded political projectionists.
There is one key element that I hope all people take from this, nurture it and make it your own. That is, if you get a mass forwarded e-mail about any political individual, delete it right away. Never read these. This is because 99.99982% of the time they are lies, and 100% of the times they are smear derived propaganda designed to manipulate you. I don’t care what politician they are about or what party they belong to, Republican, Democrat, Green, Independent, Constitution, Libertarian, Federalist, or what ever party Ralph Nader is getting paid to run for, they are all just an electric from of political toilet paper. It smears crap all over the place instead of cleaning anything up.
I remember getting a link to this video a few years ago. The message in the e-mail was to point out what politicians are like and that they are the same all over the world.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-QNAwUdHUQ]
Click here is the video does not load.
Sure it’s a fake, but I’ll admit that the first time I saw it I was open to accepting that it was a legitimate politician. Granted, this was during the Bush monarchy at the time and my perspective on political dialogue and responsibility was a bit negligent and cynical at the time. The generally accepted and expected media response during the time was to stick their fingers in their ears and start yelling, “LA la la la la la la.”
I’d like to point out that 90% of the people I have shown this video to still believe and concede that this video is of a legitimate politician, handing a political situation the way they would expect most politicians to behave. Yes 90%, which is a statistic that I just made up and has no validity or factual backing whatsoever.
The main thing that got me started on this whole topic was an e-mail I friend of mine sent me yesterday. It was a reply he had received from Utah congressman Jim Matheson. My friend’s response to Matheson’s reply was this:
“I love how hard Matheson tries to stay out of any debate that could be even remotely controversial, but this takes the cake. Carbon Monoxide? Who is pro-Carbon Monoxide?!? What about health care, or the wars, or ethics reforms, or banking regulation…. nope, not from Jim!”
Apparently Jim is leading the way in anti-Carbon Monoxide legislation. I mean sure, one might equate that traditionally the first rule of politics is to do your very best to not take a political stand on anything that anyone might be in opposition to… unless of course a lobbyist for some billion dollar corporation is giving you perks that assist you in making a firm stand that protects a corporation and shits on the people.
Yeah, so maybe I’m a little jaded when it comes to politics, but it’s not like they’ve done a lot of good for the people as of late. I get that there is the random noble act and attempted to make things better, but it seems that there are far to many black knights roaming the political landscape yelling that “None Shall Pass!” at every noble gesture that any attempt to make. So far, all of the black knights still have all of there arms and legs, and the search for the Holy Grail is still just an idea being sketched in a notebook belonging to Sean Connery.
Yeah sorry about that, I got caught up in a few to many pop culture references there. So back to Matheson, of course his big legislative push is going to be for anti-Carbon Monoxide. He’s representing Utah, a state so red that you’d think it were a baboon’s blushing ass. This is a state where we gauge our political successes based on whether any new liquor laws get passed that enable drinkers the same rights that drinkers in other states experience.
I suppose that fact that Matheson is attempting any type of legislation at all, says something. Personally, I think it says, “Hey, Facebook is down and I can’t play Bejeweled all day today. I wonder what I should do?” and thus birthed the anti-Carbon Monoxide legislation, but then again all of this is just my opinion. I feel it’s important to point that out, because, well, I don’t want some to get emotionally unstable and attempt to violate me for slanderous frumpiness.
My political battle cry… “Can’t we all just get along?” I hope someday we can, or at the very least we’ll be able to wave a friendly hello at each other from across a crowded Earth, and everyone will be ok with that.
What do you think?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: politics, fingers in ears, and Monty Python black knight.
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by Richard Timothy | Jan 27, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
After yesterdays epic struggle to Smirk about politics, I decided to let the piece breath for a few days before I jump on it again and try to salvage some of what I’ve written. It started well enough. You know, one of those, “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition” openings. Then half way through it, my comfy chair was suddenly replaced with a hard wooden one and a thumb tack was placed in the middle of it. At which point you begin to understand what kind of pain the topic was becoming.
So I bagged on what I had written and took the night off, sort of. I had a bit of a sit down, watched Rear Window, and then wrote a few e-mails and did a little research in the web. Once midnight rolled around I was struck with writable whim and found myself “doing it old school”… meaning I was lying in bed listening to Danger Mouse play on a small DVD player on my night stand, while writing this post on a legal sized yellow with blue lines note pad using what some might call an archaic hand held device, a pencil.
I know! When I say “old school” I mean “old school”. Sure I could have make it “older school” by actually mailing what I had written to me using a stamp and an envelope, but really, who has time for that. Besides I still needed to transfer the hand writing to electronic form. I did start thinking what would constitute “oldest school” or maybe “original school”, which I imagine could be done using a stone tablet and a mallet and chisel, but I really didn’t want to get rock crumbs in my bed… oh and I didn’t have a rock tablet or any rock carving tools. I suppose I could have used a screwdriver and a hammer, but that would have been cheating.
So as midnight spun closer to a quarter of, I was still rambling about rambling and realized I really better get to the point, or at least a point. So I decided to take the easy way out, which today means, stop motion.
My littlest sister, which means youngest, because my littlest sister is actually the second youngest sister, but for some reason littlest has always been synonymous with youngest, and I’m not really sure why. So Steph, littlest sister there, has been working some retail lately. The place where she works gets mixed tapes, or CDs, or something each month from the company to play as background music. This is music that is officially acceptable to be played with the intent that no one will get offended.
After the new mixed tape arrived, Steph started noticing a new song repeating every few hours while at work. The song almost instantly began to make out with the portion of her brain that causes one to move from the “I really like this” reaction to the “Oh my (insert deity of your choice here) I love this!” This is usually said with ones eyes open a little wider than what is acceptable for normal conversation. Occasionally a form of physical contact is felt necessary and the person experiencing this reaction will usually place a hand on your shoulder while they tell you about the thing of such excitable appreciation. In some situations, an individual may bob up and down a bit while talking about this said “thing” of new found delight.
The problem Steph experienced was there was no play list that accompanied the mixed tape. Thus the mystery of the unknown song began. Holmesing her detective skills she finally, after about three weeks of Google and lyric database searching, found the song, and a video to accompany it. So pleased with this triumph she posted this success and a link of the video on her Facebook page.
The song was alright, I didn’t hold it to the same level of amazing reaction as it did for her, but I did not have any abrasive reaction to it in any way either. But the video… the video was bloody brilliant, and as I start typing about it, I just might be bobbing up and down a bit in appreciation, but I’m not saying for certain. Simply, it’s just stop motion, but brilliantly captivating stop motion. Here, the song is called Her Morning Elegance by Oren Lavie, check it out for yourself.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiLulP9EErc&feature=fvst]
Click here if the video does not play.
It’s just one of those things that puts a smile on my face. Let me know that you think.
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Spanish Inquisition, stone tablet, and excited face.
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by Richard Timothy | Jan 26, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement, Something to Wine About
There is something eminently satisfying when friends are over and you’re enjoying a collective collaboration of wine and one of the wines are being a little stubborn about wanting to open up so you pull out a decanter, which is not to be confused with a decatheter (which is actually nothing, but sounds like its related to a catheter, which does give one a moment of pause). You’d be amazed at the looks people give you when you mispronounce one for the other.
I’m a great fan of the decanter. Essentially it’s the masseuse of wines. When a wine is a little to tense and just can’t relax enough to let’s its true potential come out to be shared with others, the decanter, removes the “can’t” and makes it a “can”… usually.
A few weeks ago, there was a lovely little gathering at the house, were I had an old friends, who had just moved back to town, meeting new friends, because I’m a big fan of my friends being friends with my friends. Sure it’s a bit redundant sounding, but I think it makes sense. One of the wines that gathered for the occasion was a short life wine, meaning that it was designed not to last very long. It was only a year or two old and it had already peaked within that time. A peak is when everything comes together in the wine just right so that the flavor is at its perfection point. If you wait to long though, the peak expires and the flavor of the wine begins to pass away into a vinegary death.
The wine had peaked in November, and the friends that tried it over Thanksgiving were so smitten by the taste that they grabbed a few bottles to take home with them. You would think that two months would not make much of a difference, but then we popped that little tyke open and gave it some time to breathe, the wine had already entered retirement.
Still there was hope, there was the decanter. We unsheathed this tool of spirited divinity and… seriously? Spirited divinity? I’m really getting into this aren’t I. Ok so maybe I read a little too much Rilke this weekend, but it was worth it damn it… besides, can one really read too much Rilke? Answer now or answer later, but it is worth answering. Even if you’re not a fan, it can always be said that at least it’s not Vogon poetry.
Right, so we poured the entire bottle into the decanter and gave it another 30 minutes. The wine refused to revive. In events like this, there is one key ingredient that can usually bring wine back to life, and no, it’s not lightening, no matter how many mad doctors tell you contrary. When a wine fails, I say turn it into a wine that almost always succeeds. Turn into sangria… just add fruit.
There is something incredibly dreary about seeing a near full bottle of wine being emptied into a sink, never to be heard from again. So, I took the decanter of dying wine and added two oranges, one lemon, two limes, a handful of frozen blueberries (because I found them in the fridge), and about two cups of Sprite. I’m not sure why, but it seems there is something amazingly compelling about a container of liquid that is filled with fresh fruit. Ten minutes later, the decanter was empty, except for a few orange wedges.
I’m not sure if fruit is universally the great liquid rejuvenator. I don’t think a splash of lime juice would correctly accent a twenty year old scotch. Nor do I think a tablespoon of puréed strawberries would compliment a dirty gin martini. In vodka’s case, yes, fruit always helps. In the case of beer though, it’s a bit of a hit and miss. 
An orange wedge in a pint of Blue Moon receives the type of praise that some people only reserve for masterfully performed opera. At the same time, if you were to ask for a lemon wedge to be added to your Guinness, there’s a chance that some Irishman might smack you in the face due to your flagrant sacrilege toward the perfected stout. But for wine, it’s a life saver.
You know, I had a reader recently ask me if there was a point to my writing. I mean for me yes, there is always a point… the point is to write it. Then there’s the hope that the person reading it is entertained enough that at some point they smile or even laugh to themselves. For the reader though, I think that sometimes there really isn’t a point, or message. I think message is more of what they meant. 
And I think sometimes there might not necessarily be a message, just an observation. But today, there is a message, and that message is:
If your wine sucks add some fruit and maybe a little sugar and make that bugger into sangria.
It might not be very poetic, but it’s pretty damn useful… and it makes me happy. If I can save just one crap wine from the disheartening pour down a drain, then my mission today has been a successful one.
And to those of you that don’t drink wine, a little wedge of lemon can always add a little pep to whatever your drinking… except coffee maybe. That hurts my brain to even think about that one. You never know though, there might be someone out there are not only has tired it, but loves it. Still, I hope I never have to have that conversation.
I guess there’s only one thing left to add… Cheers!
Do you have any “save a dying wine” formulas that have worked for you?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: decanter, wine with friends, Rainer Maria Rilke, blue moon with orange, and sangria.
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by Richard Timothy | Jan 18, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, I Think There's a Point, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Pratchett Perspective
I have much love, adoration, reverence, befuddlement (mainly because I don’t think that word is used enough these days) and gratitude for the writings of one Mr. Terry Pratchett, of the Sir variety. I remember when I was first introduced to his work. I was sitting in my college dorm room reading along and the next thing I knew I was laughing out loud, so much so that I began a bit of literary rewinding. Once I got done laughing, I’d turn back a page, began rereading the section, and then start laughing all over again.
I’m certain that my appreciation of this man’s writing will be addressed on more than one occasion, but today I wanted to talk about one of the things I love most about the Discword series, and that is all the literary cameos you get from book to book. There are over 30 books in this series now, and that’s just it, the core of all these books is the Discworld. Then you have all these stories about the people that live there.
There are books about the reluctant and cowardly hero Rincewind. There are books about Death and his granddaughter. There’s Sam Vimes and his band of misfit coppers, The City Watch. There are books about the Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax and the other witches on the Disc. There are so many more characters too. They are personalities that you either partially, mostly, or completely identify with, because they either remind you of yourself, or someone you know… or someone you hope to someday know… or in some cases hope to never know.
Regardless, you find yourself connecting with these people, and because there is more than one story about them, usually, you get to know them better and better. Cheering them on every step of the way. Even if what they are attempting something that is one chance is a million… but it just might work.
So in getting back to my main point, one of the things I love about reading the Discworld books are all the cameo appearances from characters you’ve met in other books. There you are, reading along about something happening in Ankh-Morpork and all of a sudden there’s a member of the City Watch chatting with the hero of the book. And there you are, giving a mental nod or wave to Nobby Nobbs, because, Hey! You know him.
And how could we forget the eclectic collection of cameo appearances by the one and only Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, and all the Dibbler egos, or cultural counterparts, found on each Discworld continent. There is Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah from Small Gods, and Al-Jiblah from Jingo. Also, Disembowel-Meself-Honourably Dibhala of Interesting Times fame. I’m sure there’s more, I still have a few more books to get through, and I am looking forward to finding out. It’s like running into an old high school friend while you are visiting some random city. Sure it’s a bit of a surprise and the conversation is usually short and in passing, but you are genuinely pleased to have seen them.
Such is the case with these literary cameos. The appearance may not last that long, often it’s a sort of hi, hello, how are you, and then back to things as normal. That part of its magic and appeal thought. The Disc is a whole world of characters and personalities that keep popping in every now and again for a short visit just because they happen to be in the area, and most of the time you’re not even expecting them. Well, at least initially that’s the case.
Now, it’s just part of the process. Part of the experience that is reading a Discworld novel. I might occasionally ask, “I wonder who it will be this time?” when I start reading a book I haven’t read before… or haven’t read for a few years, but it doesn’t late long. They show up when they do, whoever they may be.
So, to all you readers that have read one, some, most, or all the Discworld novels, I’d like to think that you, like me, take comfort in the knowledge that someone you know will be dropping by to say hi. It’s a thought that always brings a smile to my face every time I crack open a Discworld book. Well done and thank you sir, er, I guess Sir Terry… Pratchett. It’s always a pleasure.
What are some of your favorite Discworld cameos?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: Terry Pratchett, Discworld, and Disworld Death.
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by Richard Timothy | Jan 13, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking, Updates Todate
Today I’ve decided to focus on finishing my feeble editing attempts on Chapter 8 of my novel. I am going to get it posted before I go to bed tonight. That’s my promise to myself that all of you get to hold me to.
The thing is I’m a pretty good editor when it comes to other peoples work. I do it at work all the time. Yet, when it comes to my own work, I, well, I think I’m kind of a crappy parent. I’m so elated and proud of my writing getting all creative and playful, that I blindly overlook all the naughty things it does in the process, like inconsistent, confusing, and WTF punctuation, and awkwardly or obviously redundant paragraphs. Editors are the world’s equivalent of the strict parent. They make sure your kids eat their broccoli, which is good because they need it, and so does my writing.
Although I am getting better at self editing, I’ve noticed that I produce a series of sounds and phrases that have their own editing definitions while I’m editing my work. Here are a few of them that come to mind:
- The hell? – This is usually said while as my eyes start to squint and my head tilts to the left. It’s the result of realizing that a specific sentence or phrase I am looking at is completely wrong. …See there are times when writing that I’m trying to get out what my brain it thinking about as fast as I can. I commonly miss a few words or if I’m lucky I only type a few minor words out of order. Then there are times when my only option is to kill the whole paragraph and start over because I have no bloody clue what the hell I was trying to say, which happens more than I’d like to admit.
- Wha… bu… tha… phuhh… – This is usually the collection of sounds I make after my “The hell?” statement. These sounds usually begin as I attempt to decipher what I was thinking while I was writing the sentence in question. Sometimes I revert to poorly edited profanity during this phase as well. Things like, “Piece of sh…”, “Son of a bi…”, “Rat bas…”, “Mother fu…”, and then I finish it all of with, “Dang.” It doesn’t help my editing any, but it always improves my mood.
- Oh! – This is what comes out when I figure out what it was I was actually trying to say, or decipher which words are out of order or misspelled as other words that the spell check did not mark and incorrect words.
- Uhh – This is usually a subtle auditory sound said under my breath. My fear is that if I say it too loud I’ll end up distracting myself as my brain attempts to process some rewording that will make a little more sense, or at the very least make the sentence cleaner.
- Ahh – This is usually a louder sigh of relief. It’s my triumph noise, which I make when I fix a problem or catch a simple edit error and fixed it. It’s sort of my own editing ohm.
- God I need an editor – This is usually my wrap up phrase as I finish editing my work. It’s the signifier that I have made it through my editing process and verbally proclaim to myself the obvious truth. Who knows, maybe it’s a subconscious proclamation to the universe to please send me some superhero whose secret power is the love of editing and they just happen to have a desire to be my personal editing Alfred… yeah, something like that.
Well there you have it, have them, some anyway… that’s a few of my editing lingos… lingai?… lingus… there’s some of the noises I make and things I say while editing my writing. I mean sure, I could keep going, but I’ve set a goal for today. It’s time to take another look at my book get making those noises instead of writing about them.
Do you have you own lingo for when your working on something and no one else is around?
Image Source:
Google Images, key word: book editing.
This morning was a “daaaaaamn” kind of morning. You know the kind, where you wake up with the instant realization that that you slept a bit wrong and as you sit up your neck begins unleashing a slew of profanity that would even cause the late Richard Pryor to cautiously pause and reflect that you have one pissed off neck. As you sit on the edge of your bed you attempt the simplest of side to side neck stretches and as you do so your entire world begins moving in slow motion. Then as you attempt to curse out the pain, the pain takes up all your oxygen and most of you vocal ability and all you can really muster is a very softly and slowly spoken, “daaaaaaaaaammmmmnnnnn.”
While fondly remembering my last massage I recalled a conversation that the massage therapist and I had. To give credence to this conversation I’d like to point out a few things. You know when you were younger… or last week, or maybe twenty minutes ago while you were working out, one of the universal attributes that most people seem to equate to a higher yumminess score on the attraction scale has to do with a lovely and well sculpted gluteus maximus. I’m not even going to talk about how many times did that damn Buns of Steel tape. You might laugh, but at my peak, I cracked three different toilet seats.
There is something gravitational about an individual’s neither regions that is renowned for pulling eyes in its direction. This happen when the back region in question is departing from groups of people, random strangers, or spouses of thirty or more years. On the average, people like to check out derrieres. There’s really no polite way to say it. Also, this is not a sexist thing. It applies to men and women alike, and perhaps 99.9% of the Mammalia phylum… or mammals in general. Not to mention, people are constantly checking out their own butts. When people go shopping for new jeans what is the key purchasing point… if your hinder looks good the sale is ensured.
Likewise, and this is what I wanted to get to about the conversation I had with my last massage therapist, which also needs to be clarified. When your massage therapist tells you that you have a tight ass, this is not a compliment… do not say thank you. Trust me on this. They will never find it as amusing as you do. In fact, they will never find it amusing… ever.
