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by Richard Timothy | Feb 3, 2010 | My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
Today’s post needs to start off with a defining moment. I am writing about MY notebook and not THE Notebook. If anyone is expecting a write up about that movie… your disappointment may never fully heal. That being said, it’s the subtleties of life that put a smile on my face, well I suppose that and a good bottle of wine… and Bree, and rice crackers, and friends and family, and I’m really not sure why, but randomly yelling, “Woo Packers, Woo!” always makes me smile (probably some deep seeded MSTism)… ok fine, come to think of it there are a number of things that bring a smile to my face. Today though, I had a subtle observation. It was the little note book I always carry with me, where I write down random Smirky… Smirkable? Smirkish?.. Smirk inspired observations, realization, ideas, and inspiration, oh and sometimes the occasional grocery list.
What I found most amusing about it was the cover. It’s of the Pillsbury Doughboy creature baby thing. The little white doughy guy is wearing a scarf and a chef’s hat… and nothing else, saucy little minks. His arms are up in the air, much like an American football referee making the “touch down” sign, or at the very least someone giving the pantomimed reenactment of someone saying, “Yay!” Or, on a closer look, you could say he’s doing the Y for YMCA, which was made popular by all those blokes living in that one village. As I recall they were rather big fans of playing dress up.
Still, apart from the little Y the little pastry man is making, he also has this brilliantly delightful smile on his face. Kind of like he’s been reading want I’ve been putting in my, or would it be his? Nope, never mind he’s just a picture, the notebook is mine. So, it’s like he’s been reading what I’ve been writing in my little notebook of ideas. It might sound odd, but it’s a grand little reminder of my goal as a writer, or as Donald O’Connor would sing, “Make them laugh.”
Then again, it’s pretty easy to get side tracked while looking at that perpetually happy face… things like what kind of evil mad genius decided to give life to a ball of dough, and who was the marketing rep that thought this creation would make a good spokes person for a company’s dough based products. If you really start to think about it, it starts getting a little creepy. This little monster is pimping out his family to be cooked and eaten by unsuspecting humans, and all the androgynous creature can do is laugh as you start chewing on his cousin Sigmund, the croissant that you just pulled out of the oven.
Then the imagery starts changing and you realize that the little guy is clearly insane. He’s always happily encouraging you to eat more and more of his family. And you, hypnotized by the buttery flaky goodness concede to consume more and more… OH THE HORROR!
On a plus note though, he does have the most obvious Achilles’ heel since, well, Achilles I guess. All you have to do is poke the little varmint in the belly and he becomes powerless ball of giggling dough. Plus, his giggle is so infectious that you just want to poke him again and again.
I take it back. The evil mad genius that made this baby Frankenstein type of monster is not really so much of a genius, or all that mad, but definitely still evil. I guess you could say the Pillsbury Doughboy creature baby thing was created by a mildly sprained evil part time inventor… probably the same guy that is responsible for that damn Tickle Me Elmo.
Still, all of that aside, I do get a kick out of having the YMCA Pillsbury Doughboy creature baby thing being the cover of my notebook of ideas. It starts me in the right direction, with a smile. And in reading back over today’s post… I completely agree… bloody random post. Cheers!
Any insights you’d care to share about the Pillsbury Doughboy creature baby thing? Feel free to share.
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Pillsbury Dough Boy notebook, Pillsbury Dough Boy, Village People, and Make Them Laugh.
by Richard Timothy | Feb 1, 2010 | My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction
In the midst of today’s postful creation I got an e-mail from my cutie-baby-sweetie-pie-wifey-pooh. One of the local papers did a little article and video on her, where she talks a little about what she’s been through, what she is doing, and, more than anything, about how she refuses to back down from her dreams and from her vision of helping others find their light.
So, I suppose the best way to put it, is it’s an honor for me to share this article and video with you. Call it a mini-Smirk if you want. Part of my goal is to bring a smile to your faces, but this post is about the smile Angela brings to my face and my life. Sure it’s a bit self indulgent, but that’s one of the many groovy things about being human, the awareness that you are being self indulgent and the consciousness that it’s ok to do so.
I’ll get today’s post out later today, but for know check out this article and the video. Yes, both links take you to the same page, I call it necessary redundancy.
Ok, now everyone look away, this is just between Angela and I… anyone peeking? Good, cause you better not or else… or else, something and um, yeah! You know for having a way with words there are definitely times I don’t do so goodly with them. Ok, so no peeking now I mean it!
Angela, I love you and I am so proud of you and what you are doing. You are my butterfly.
Ok you can all come back and finish reading now… ok so I’m done. Thanks everyone! I’ll have something else for you all later.
What did you think of the article about Angela?
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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 21, 2010 | My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
I’ve been thinking about a conversation my cutie-baby-sweetie-pie-wifey-pooh and I had a few days ago. And you know, since starting this blog thing, you’d be amazed how many times a week I hear the sentence, “And no, you can’t put this in your blog.” as the closing remarks to some of our conversations. This conversation, however, was not one of them.
I guess one of the things to start out with is to explain a little about my love, my Angela. I think it would be safe to say that we would still not be married if she has not proposed. I always get mixed reactions when I tell people this. Men commonly give me a sort of “well done” nod of approval. Women on the other hand usually give me a “you romanceless lout” look, but it usually passes once they get to know me.
We actually met at work. We even shared an office for a while. And No! There was no hanky-panky at work. I’m a professional damn it… better make that a we. We’re professionals damn it! I know it’s a bit cliché to admit we had an office romance, but, well, yeah we did.
We did keep it mostly hidden. I mean our boss knew obviously. Mainly because she was the one who introduced us and had, on more than one occasion, subtly implied to me that she thought we would make a good couple and would like to see us go out… No, it wasn’t a boss to employee request, like “Get this newsletter finished and mailed out by Friday.” So, like, “Take Angela out to lunch this Wednesday and tell her how beautiful she is.” And come to think of it, it wasn’t subtle at all. It was much more of a matter of fact statement and suggestion, you know, in a wink, wink, nudge, nudge kind of way.
Once our professional relationship evolved to a private relationship I’m sure more people at work figured it out, but there wasn’t a lot anyone could say. I mean the president of the company’s wife use to be his receptionist, which is much more cliché than our situation. In clarification of his character though I will point out that he was not married at the time, making his situation much less cliché than the married boss sleeping with his secretary, so kudos to him for that.
Anyway, back to the conversation Angela and I were having. It was about self progression or development, but more than that. It was about investing in yourself. For a lot of people, college or a trade school is the big self investment. For others, buying books and reading about things that ignite a spark in them to make a change or start a business is a self investment. It doesn’t have to be a self help book, or a comprehensive comparison of world religions, but maybe for some it does. That’s the nice thing about investing in ones self. It’s all personal and very subjective to each individual.
Angela has gone to a number of trainings and seminars as part of her self investment, and they have been amazing experiences for her. I have even accompanied her to a few, and I have always gotten something out of them. Sometimes it’s just a nugget that has helped open a door inside, letting me reevaluate and adapt some knowledge of who I was to become who I am. Then sometimes it’s like walking into an old room that has not been visited in years and you walk over to the window and open the blinds. Light fills a room in your mind that has been dark and dusty for far too long. Sometime you cry, sometimes you laugh, and sometimes you just quietly sit there.
I think one of the things about self investment is being ok with attaching a monetary value to it. Whether it’s spending $300 to go to a writing conference or $10 for a used book on eBay, I am making that purchase because I know I am worth it. When people pay for something they are going to be more invested in it. People want to get their money’s worth, and they are much more willing to do the work required of them to make sure it’s as worthwhile as possible.
I’m pretty sure that if my college education were free I wouldn’t have completed nearly as many homework assignments as I did, and my all nighters would have consisted of a lot more libation and togas a lot less retention. But because I was paying for it my all nighters consisted of studying and writing and rewriting the same paper just to make sure it was right and that I was learning what I needed to from the class.
Self investing is not just a belief, it’s a personal knowledge. I know I am worth the 40 dollars I spent on a collection of poetry by Pablo Neruda. It opens up my heart when I read it. It gets my brain processing word painted imagery so vivid that I can almost taste the salt from the sea and feel its mist caressing the skin on my arms. It ignites my love for words and inspires me to create, and write, and share.
Honestly $40 is a very small investment based on the way it assists me not only as a writer, but as a person. Likewise, when I purchase books on writing, or on being a writer, or things that focus on writing tools that can be used to strengthen the development of my characters, all these are self investments. And if I paid for the book, you can bet your ass I’m going to read it, and mark it if as well. Some books help, some might not, but I’m willing to invest in the time and money to continue to expand myself as a writer and a person.
In Angela’s case, she is opened up by investing in herself through programs and processes and the interaction that goes along with that. Then again that is what she is all about. Inspiring others to be who they really are after the fear is removed and their true self worth looks them in the eye. She loves to assist people in facing and accepting their greatness, then with open arms give to and receive from the world. Angela is about empowering others, especially other women, so they can empower themselves, and eventually empower others as well. Everyone deserves to connect to their own greatness and share it with others. She is a living example of that.
Sure I’m biased when it comes to talking about my amazing, beautiful Angela, but I believe in her and in the message she has begun sharing with the world. She is putting together a woman’s conference at the end of February. (Yes, a woman’s conference, sorry guys.) So today I’d like to invite you to take a look at her site. Read a little about what she is doing to assist and empower women. Check out all the amazing people she is bring together to talk and present their messages of love, and hope, and healing the world one person at a time. I honestly believe her conference is something all women not only should experience, but deserve to experience.
Please go to Illuminated Woman to see what it is she’s doing.
http://illuminatedwoman.com/
Thanks for checking out.
Let me know what do you think?
Image Sources:
Illuminated Woman
and Google Images, key words: conversation, office romance, investing in yourself, and man reading.
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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.
Today’s post needs to start off with a defining moment. I am writing about MY notebook and not THE Notebook. If anyone is expecting a write up about that movie… your disappointment may never fully heal. That being said, it’s the subtleties of life that put a smile on my face, well I suppose that and a good bottle of wine… and Bree, and rice crackers, and friends and family, and I’m really not sure why, but randomly yelling, “Woo Packers, Woo!” always makes me smile (probably some deep seeded MSTism)… ok fine, come to think of it there are a number of things that bring a smile to my face. Today though, I had a subtle observation. It was the little note book I always carry with me, where I write down random Smirky… Smirkable? Smirkish?.. Smirk inspired observations, realization, ideas, and inspiration, oh and sometimes the occasional grocery list.
What I found most amusing about it was the cover. It’s of the Pillsbury Doughboy creature baby thing. The little white doughy guy is wearing a scarf and a chef’s hat… and nothing else, saucy little minks. His arms are up in the air, much like an American football referee making the “touch down” sign, or at the very least someone giving the pantomimed reenactment of someone saying, “Yay!” Or, on a closer look, you could say he’s doing the Y for YMCA, which was made popular by all those blokes living in that one village. As I recall they were rather big fans of playing dress up.
Still, apart from the little Y the little pastry man is making, he also has this brilliantly delightful smile on his face. Kind of like he’s been reading want I’ve been putting in my, or would it be his? Nope, never mind he’s just a picture, the notebook is mine. So, it’s like he’s been reading what I’ve been writing in my little notebook of ideas. It might sound odd, but it’s a grand little reminder of my goal as a writer, or as Donald O’Connor would sing, “Make them laugh.”
Then the imagery starts changing and you realize that the little guy is clearly insane. He’s always happily encouraging you to eat more and more of his family. And you, hypnotized by the buttery flaky goodness concede to consume more and more… OH THE HORROR!
