Only on....Jeeem's Quiet Musings!
Sunday, June 30, 2002
Only on....Jeeem's Quiet Musings!
Oh boy, what a week!
I've gotten more cultural exposure this week than can be had in a short lifetime. Working with three Mexican clients all week and an interpreter who is fluent in five different languages. I wish I could say more but with Federal confidentiality laws, I best stay within my broad boundaries. The week, as a whole, was very interesting but very exhausting. My Spanish abilities were bumped up about ten notches but I was scolded by Mila, the interpreter, for my use of Mexican border slang. Mila knows the in's and out's of grammar in five different languages (English, Russian, German, Spanish and another one that escapes me right now) and was disappointed for my total lack of knowledge of grammar in both the English and Spanish languages. She tried, unsuccessfully, to teach me all about idioms and conjugations, both of which are a foreign language in-and-of-themselves to me.
Spanish is difficult. Not unlike English, certain words have different meanings. Take for instance the word "Entonces," which can mean, "then, to, so and even also" depending upon what context it is used. Mexicans are no different than Americans in that they don't always use correct grammar when speaking. Now, picture this: Three Mexicans, all speaking different slang from two different geographical regions of Mexico with some Dominican and Puerto Rican slang thrown in due to the influence of living in close proximity to these individuals in their barrio. Add to this picture my use of border slang and an interpreter from Venezuela who speaks a pure form of Castilian Spanish and knows the in's and out's of grammar, slang and idiom usage....man, did that ever make for an interesting week!
An example of the fun in store for us was this:
"¡Qué bien! Se metió en un buen berenjenal cuando perdió su trabajo el año pasado."
is spoken to mean:
"That's great! He got himself into a real jam when he lost his job last year."
but directly translates to:
"That's great! He got himself into a good eggplant when he lost his job last year."
Wonder what that feels like? I'd say it's a little kinky wouldn't you? Do you like this stuff? Here's more:
"Yo tenía los huesos molidos y me dormí a fondo boca abajo."
is spoken to mean:
"I was wiped out and I fell fast asleep on my stomach."
but directly translates to:
"I had ground up bones and I fell asleep with the mouth under."
Hey, that makes sense! How many of us have woken up with ground up bones and couldn't find our mouths? Which brings to mind the difficulty we had with the word "hangover," better known as the feeling one gets the next morning after drinking an immense amount of alcohol over the course of the evening before. The correct term used, "Resaca," was not a term the Mexican guys were familiar with. They used a term that quite literally was translated to mean, "Faded." Hey, I've been faded from time to time, haven't you?
Now, add to this whole mess the presence of different accents and dialects.....oh man! I have a slight southern twang from Texas, with the ability to roll my R's and speak Spanish with a near perfect ability whereas people up here do not possess this ability. They pronounce Spanish names in a whiteboy vernacular. For instance, the name Jesus Herrera becomes "Gee-sus Her-air-ah" compared to the proper Mexican pronunciation of "Eh-sus Eeh-rree-rra," where the "J" and the "H" are silent.
Speaking of accents, in addition to my CULTURAL week, I spoke with Eve on Friday. First, she argues with me about the time difference between South Africa and New Hampshire, so naturally I had to correct her. Those South African's! Geez. Then, she starts in on my "accent" again. We speak for about an hour or two and she asks me about ninety-thousand times, "What? What did you say? Pardon?" Holy crappola batman! Is my "accent" so bad that she cannot understand me? I understand her perfectly except when she says, "Pittles," for, "Petals." Eve's "accent" that she claims she does not possess, sounds like a cross of British, Australian, Irish and a wee bit of Afrikaans thrown in for good measure.
We had a delightful conversation and I put on my impersonations of a Bostonian: "Paaaak ya caa fa a quaaata in Haaaaavaaad Yaad," (Park your car for a quarter in Harvard Yard) and of course a New Yorker who wants to, "Have suum cwoafee and twooak," (Have coffee and talk). Then, I did the Texas Southern twang and the Maniac accent (Maine hillbilly). Eve loved it and wanted more, giggling to beat the band. Then I pulled the rabbit out of the hat and went into my Cheech & Chong rendition about Santa Claus and his reindeer. I'm rather good at this (hours and hours of listening to Cheech & Chong albums (while partaking of some rather powerful hooch, whacky weed, mojo, reefer, blunts, dope, grass, doobie, fatties and the like) but my rendition hurts my throat to no end and I end up in a spasmodic coughing fit.
It's not good to cough whilst talking with Eve as she will end up convincing me to try yet another herbal African remedy that would repulse even a bottom dweller. "Oh Jeeem! Get yourself some Limburger cheese and mix it with some blood sausage, a sprinkle of rotten pork, and top it all with rancid milk and gargle with this mixture for thirty minutes every morning," Eve would say.
Thing is, I believe her.
You see, Eve told me to sprinkle sugar on top of onion slices and then drink the juice that is drawn out of the process. Damn if it didn't work too! Power of suggestion you think? Hummmmm.
No doubt she makes all this up and titters to no end on her side saying to herself, "I can't believe that gullible fool is drinking onion and sugar juice!" She was very clear that leaving the bowl outside so as to gather the morning dew was an optional procedure. Yeah right Eve. Gimme Kentucky Fried Chicken, extra crispy, any old day. *Cough*
Anyway, you want to know something funny? Eve says she understands me better when I lapse into my Cheech & Chong routine. Something about that Southern California-Baja-Chicano accent I suppose.....but, I make Eve laugh and we all know that if a guy can make a woman laugh, he's making some good points! Eve wants to know what she will do when she comes here to the U.S., moves in with me and we eventually marry. Well, I don't know about that "marry" part, but at least we could live in some rather enjoyable sin for the rest of our lives. As long as she stays away from the onions and garlic. We'll have to get to know one another first, of course, and she'll have to learn to understand my "accent," cause I refuse to live out the rest of my days speaking in a Cheech & Chong voice!
Speaking of idioms, slang, accents and the like, have you read Peter's latest post?
"See that wan - he's smacked ootie his heid,"
Jaysus Christ Peter! I suppose I'd be a rather annoying guest in Scotland, constantly asking, "What does that mean Peter?" but if you read on and take the event in context, it makes sense and my having been, "Smacked ootie in me wee heid," meself, in the past from time to time (High as a kite on Heroin) I would probably have understood and wouldn't be such an annoying foreigner. I just have a question for Peter though....
Is "Och" a word?
Seems they use it often in Belfast too, which brings to mind my friend Chris, (Blacktelescope aka Zebulon Mysterioso, aka Prof Bernard Quatermass) who slips into maximum verbosity occasionally and spreads his contribution of the Northern Ireland verbiage:
"Look, he's trying to break that briezeblock into wee pieces!" Sigh. I drink my pint. 'Smash.' A fucking halfer and a shower of glass comes in just over my shoulder and rolls along the floor like a lawn bowl." "They're fucken fallowin' lem, wee fucks. I fucken hate this country, can they nat leave lem alone."
Wooooo boy! See what I have to contend with? Friends in all corners of the universe with such a cultural diversity and such a mixture of terms....
I fucken love it! Me heid is fulla wee bits of fucken terminology. Och! What's a man to do but be proud of his bloody diversity!!!! Excuse me while I go braai my vlies on the spit cause ai'm a bloody wee blitz vinnig and docha fucken forget it! Deal wit it compadres!
I'm a crazy man, no doubt, but I love being crazy, or "nutter" as Chris puts it....Oh, those Northern Irish!
Most of my acquaintances here in New England have NO CLUE about cultural diversity because they've never ventured outside New Hampshire. Some have never left their own hometowns. Pity if you ask me, but then it's not all ABOUT ME. Feck em' if they can't take a joke.
I received a care package from Eve last Wednesday (as Eve pronounces it Wed 'NEZ' day....Jaysus Eve! Och! Mie GOT!) Oh Boy, am I on a roll today or what? Huh? Anyway, Eve sent me a disk full of pictures including....Eve dancing the Tango, the Waltz, .....Eve wearing a Beer hat, Eve wearing a scary mask with an armless Indian eating an eraser in the background, Eve playing hippy flower child and Eve with two of her very American looking, South African white-folk friends. I immediately fell in love with the posterior view of Eve in that red dress of hers, as it is irrefutable that Eve possesses a very nice South African butt. Whooooooeeeeeeee! How long is it until I travel to Durban?
Eve also sent me a care package of South African & Israel postage stamps, a grocery receipt of hers with the regular, everyday items we all are familiar with, such as:
Madumi (yems), a ricoffy tin (250G), Five hundred grams of Rama and of course.....Rkrantz Bwors, all purchased at the famous "Checkers." Eve also purchased the more exotic items such as, "Rump steak, garlic (she eats one clove daily....shades of onion and sugar juice!), chilli sauce and food bags."
The whole package smelled so very strongly of exotic perfume, that Steve, my local postman and fly fishing friend, wanted to know what I was up to. "I'll bet you're traveling to South Africa next," he says. Wonder why he assumed that?
Gimme some rama, a pinch of perfume, a twist of Rkrantz Bwors and wear that red dress of yours Eve and you'll have a mate for life! You can leave the garlic, onion, and monkeys at home though. God I love that woman, even if she doesn't understand my "accent," and can't tell time.
It seems my Guestmap link is no longer working after Peter broke it. It can't be clicked anymore. I will have to replace the damn thing. Thanks a lot Peter! Ha. Just kidding old pal. You've really have to get out of the house more Peter! Reading Peter's blog, you get the feeling he's agoraphobic or something. He has discovered that there is a whole world out there, beyond the confines of his flat with internal roof occupants. I'm keeping a close eye on him lately because I think he's trying to edge into my restaurant review business with his talk of "Seamans Rack of Lamb. (Quite delicious, and so huge you didn't know whether to eat it or marry it.)"
Peter has quite the flamboyant terminology when discussing edibles and potables...."a thoughtful bite of Beef and Ale Pie," "forked their mange-tout onto my plate," "his Sirloin Steak with Bouquet of Garden Vegetables." Shades of Robin Leech!
Meanwhile, on the FIREFLY front, have you seen the latest headlines?
SHIRL "THE PEARL" PETERS
AND
Jeeem "TRANCEMAN" ANDERSON
NABBED IN ILLEGAL FIREFLY RING
(Illegally importing high-fliers into a low-flier region)
DETROIT (AP) - Shirley, (alias 'shirts') "The Pearl" Peters and Jim (alias 'Jeeem the tranceman') Anderson were apprehended last week when agricultural officers removed the two shady characters in their deceptive plot to smuggle male "high flying" fireflies into an area known to possess a high concentration of "low fliers" or female fireflies. An officer at the scene was quoted as commenting, "It wasn't pretty. There was luciferin powder everywhere! These guys were professionals. We are proud to have finally nabbed them."
Story at eleven......
Well boys and girls, it's forty-seven minutes after eleven, I haven't showered yet, I've got laundry to tend to and it's FINALLY a nice day outside! So, I will end this rather long dissertation until my much admired weekly restaurant review post tomorrow. Until then....
-Jeeem "The Tranceman" Anderson-
I've gotten more cultural exposure this week than can be had in a short lifetime. Working with three Mexican clients all week and an interpreter who is fluent in five different languages. I wish I could say more but with Federal confidentiality laws, I best stay within my broad boundaries. The week, as a whole, was very interesting but very exhausting. My Spanish abilities were bumped up about ten notches but I was scolded by Mila, the interpreter, for my use of Mexican border slang. Mila knows the in's and out's of grammar in five different languages (English, Russian, German, Spanish and another one that escapes me right now) and was disappointed for my total lack of knowledge of grammar in both the English and Spanish languages. She tried, unsuccessfully, to teach me all about idioms and conjugations, both of which are a foreign language in-and-of-themselves to me.
Spanish is difficult. Not unlike English, certain words have different meanings. Take for instance the word "Entonces," which can mean, "then, to, so and even also" depending upon what context it is used. Mexicans are no different than Americans in that they don't always use correct grammar when speaking. Now, picture this: Three Mexicans, all speaking different slang from two different geographical regions of Mexico with some Dominican and Puerto Rican slang thrown in due to the influence of living in close proximity to these individuals in their barrio. Add to this picture my use of border slang and an interpreter from Venezuela who speaks a pure form of Castilian Spanish and knows the in's and out's of grammar, slang and idiom usage....man, did that ever make for an interesting week!
An example of the fun in store for us was this:
"¡Qué bien! Se metió en un buen berenjenal cuando perdió su trabajo el año pasado."
is spoken to mean:
"That's great! He got himself into a real jam when he lost his job last year."
but directly translates to:
"That's great! He got himself into a good eggplant when he lost his job last year."
Wonder what that feels like? I'd say it's a little kinky wouldn't you? Do you like this stuff? Here's more:
"Yo tenía los huesos molidos y me dormí a fondo boca abajo."
is spoken to mean:
"I was wiped out and I fell fast asleep on my stomach."
but directly translates to:
"I had ground up bones and I fell asleep with the mouth under."
Hey, that makes sense! How many of us have woken up with ground up bones and couldn't find our mouths? Which brings to mind the difficulty we had with the word "hangover," better known as the feeling one gets the next morning after drinking an immense amount of alcohol over the course of the evening before. The correct term used, "Resaca," was not a term the Mexican guys were familiar with. They used a term that quite literally was translated to mean, "Faded." Hey, I've been faded from time to time, haven't you?
Now, add to this whole mess the presence of different accents and dialects.....oh man! I have a slight southern twang from Texas, with the ability to roll my R's and speak Spanish with a near perfect ability whereas people up here do not possess this ability. They pronounce Spanish names in a whiteboy vernacular. For instance, the name Jesus Herrera becomes "Gee-sus Her-air-ah" compared to the proper Mexican pronunciation of "Eh-sus Eeh-rree-rra," where the "J" and the "H" are silent.
Speaking of accents, in addition to my CULTURAL week, I spoke with Eve on Friday. First, she argues with me about the time difference between South Africa and New Hampshire, so naturally I had to correct her. Those South African's! Geez. Then, she starts in on my "accent" again. We speak for about an hour or two and she asks me about ninety-thousand times, "What? What did you say? Pardon?" Holy crappola batman! Is my "accent" so bad that she cannot understand me? I understand her perfectly except when she says, "Pittles," for, "Petals." Eve's "accent" that she claims she does not possess, sounds like a cross of British, Australian, Irish and a wee bit of Afrikaans thrown in for good measure.
We had a delightful conversation and I put on my impersonations of a Bostonian: "Paaaak ya caa fa a quaaata in Haaaaavaaad Yaad," (Park your car for a quarter in Harvard Yard) and of course a New Yorker who wants to, "Have suum cwoafee and twooak," (Have coffee and talk). Then, I did the Texas Southern twang and the Maniac accent (Maine hillbilly). Eve loved it and wanted more, giggling to beat the band. Then I pulled the rabbit out of the hat and went into my Cheech & Chong rendition about Santa Claus and his reindeer. I'm rather good at this (hours and hours of listening to Cheech & Chong albums (while partaking of some rather powerful hooch, whacky weed, mojo, reefer, blunts, dope, grass, doobie, fatties and the like) but my rendition hurts my throat to no end and I end up in a spasmodic coughing fit.
It's not good to cough whilst talking with Eve as she will end up convincing me to try yet another herbal African remedy that would repulse even a bottom dweller. "Oh Jeeem! Get yourself some Limburger cheese and mix it with some blood sausage, a sprinkle of rotten pork, and top it all with rancid milk and gargle with this mixture for thirty minutes every morning," Eve would say.
Thing is, I believe her.
You see, Eve told me to sprinkle sugar on top of onion slices and then drink the juice that is drawn out of the process. Damn if it didn't work too! Power of suggestion you think? Hummmmm.
No doubt she makes all this up and titters to no end on her side saying to herself, "I can't believe that gullible fool is drinking onion and sugar juice!" She was very clear that leaving the bowl outside so as to gather the morning dew was an optional procedure. Yeah right Eve. Gimme Kentucky Fried Chicken, extra crispy, any old day. *Cough*
Anyway, you want to know something funny? Eve says she understands me better when I lapse into my Cheech & Chong routine. Something about that Southern California-Baja-Chicano accent I suppose.....but, I make Eve laugh and we all know that if a guy can make a woman laugh, he's making some good points! Eve wants to know what she will do when she comes here to the U.S., moves in with me and we eventually marry. Well, I don't know about that "marry" part, but at least we could live in some rather enjoyable sin for the rest of our lives. As long as she stays away from the onions and garlic. We'll have to get to know one another first, of course, and she'll have to learn to understand my "accent," cause I refuse to live out the rest of my days speaking in a Cheech & Chong voice!
Speaking of idioms, slang, accents and the like, have you read Peter's latest post?
"See that wan - he's smacked ootie his heid,"
Jaysus Christ Peter! I suppose I'd be a rather annoying guest in Scotland, constantly asking, "What does that mean Peter?" but if you read on and take the event in context, it makes sense and my having been, "Smacked ootie in me wee heid," meself, in the past from time to time (High as a kite on Heroin) I would probably have understood and wouldn't be such an annoying foreigner. I just have a question for Peter though....
Is "Och" a word?
Seems they use it often in Belfast too, which brings to mind my friend Chris, (Blacktelescope aka Zebulon Mysterioso, aka Prof Bernard Quatermass) who slips into maximum verbosity occasionally and spreads his contribution of the Northern Ireland verbiage:
"Look, he's trying to break that briezeblock into wee pieces!" Sigh. I drink my pint. 'Smash.' A fucking halfer and a shower of glass comes in just over my shoulder and rolls along the floor like a lawn bowl." "They're fucken fallowin' lem, wee fucks. I fucken hate this country, can they nat leave lem alone."
Wooooo boy! See what I have to contend with? Friends in all corners of the universe with such a cultural diversity and such a mixture of terms....
I fucken love it! Me heid is fulla wee bits of fucken terminology. Och! What's a man to do but be proud of his bloody diversity!!!! Excuse me while I go braai my vlies on the spit cause ai'm a bloody wee blitz vinnig and docha fucken forget it! Deal wit it compadres!
I'm a crazy man, no doubt, but I love being crazy, or "nutter" as Chris puts it....Oh, those Northern Irish!
Most of my acquaintances here in New England have NO CLUE about cultural diversity because they've never ventured outside New Hampshire. Some have never left their own hometowns. Pity if you ask me, but then it's not all ABOUT ME. Feck em' if they can't take a joke.
I received a care package from Eve last Wednesday (as Eve pronounces it Wed 'NEZ' day....Jaysus Eve! Och! Mie GOT!) Oh Boy, am I on a roll today or what? Huh? Anyway, Eve sent me a disk full of pictures including....Eve dancing the Tango, the Waltz, .....Eve wearing a Beer hat, Eve wearing a scary mask with an armless Indian eating an eraser in the background, Eve playing hippy flower child and Eve with two of her very American looking, South African white-folk friends. I immediately fell in love with the posterior view of Eve in that red dress of hers, as it is irrefutable that Eve possesses a very nice South African butt. Whooooooeeeeeeee! How long is it until I travel to Durban?
Eve also sent me a care package of South African & Israel postage stamps, a grocery receipt of hers with the regular, everyday items we all are familiar with, such as:
Madumi (yems), a ricoffy tin (250G), Five hundred grams of Rama and of course.....Rkrantz Bwors, all purchased at the famous "Checkers." Eve also purchased the more exotic items such as, "Rump steak, garlic (she eats one clove daily....shades of onion and sugar juice!), chilli sauce and food bags."
The whole package smelled so very strongly of exotic perfume, that Steve, my local postman and fly fishing friend, wanted to know what I was up to. "I'll bet you're traveling to South Africa next," he says. Wonder why he assumed that?
Gimme some rama, a pinch of perfume, a twist of Rkrantz Bwors and wear that red dress of yours Eve and you'll have a mate for life! You can leave the garlic, onion, and monkeys at home though. God I love that woman, even if she doesn't understand my "accent," and can't tell time.
It seems my Guestmap link is no longer working after Peter broke it. It can't be clicked anymore. I will have to replace the damn thing. Thanks a lot Peter! Ha. Just kidding old pal. You've really have to get out of the house more Peter! Reading Peter's blog, you get the feeling he's agoraphobic or something. He has discovered that there is a whole world out there, beyond the confines of his flat with internal roof occupants. I'm keeping a close eye on him lately because I think he's trying to edge into my restaurant review business with his talk of "Seamans Rack of Lamb. (Quite delicious, and so huge you didn't know whether to eat it or marry it.)"
Peter has quite the flamboyant terminology when discussing edibles and potables...."a thoughtful bite of Beef and Ale Pie," "forked their mange-tout onto my plate," "his Sirloin Steak with Bouquet of Garden Vegetables." Shades of Robin Leech!
Meanwhile, on the FIREFLY front, have you seen the latest headlines?
DETROIT (AP) - Shirley, (alias 'shirts') "The Pearl" Peters and Jim (alias 'Jeeem the tranceman') Anderson were apprehended last week when agricultural officers removed the two shady characters in their deceptive plot to smuggle male "high flying" fireflies into an area known to possess a high concentration of "low fliers" or female fireflies. An officer at the scene was quoted as commenting, "It wasn't pretty. There was luciferin powder everywhere! These guys were professionals. We are proud to have finally nabbed them."
Story at eleven......
Well boys and girls, it's forty-seven minutes after eleven, I haven't showered yet, I've got laundry to tend to and it's FINALLY a nice day outside! So, I will end this rather long dissertation until my much admired weekly restaurant review post tomorrow. Until then....
-Jeeem "The Tranceman" Anderson-
Monday, June 24, 2002
I've been here once, in the past, to purchase some green beer on St. Patty's Day but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) I don't remember much of that visit.
Louie and I hit an Italian place that was closed and wouldn't open till four p.m. and then ended up at the Gilford Steakhouse which appeared to be open and advertised eleven a.m. to closing, seven days a week but we couldn't find anybody to serve us. So, we were heading to Alton when Louie remembered Patrick's Pub. Good choice on a day that was very overcast with rain hanging in the wings.
We were met in the pub by a rather chubby hostess with a annoying smile who didn't seem to want to seat us in the Emerald Room where we wanted to eat. She tried to seat us in an upper tier of the pub, which was alight with a deafening din mixture of some stupid sports event blaring on the TV and the usual barroom banter. Luckily for me, Louie won out by persuading the hostess with the mostess in his brash Italian manner to seat us where we damn well wanted to be seated.
We were soon greeted in the Emerald Room by Maureen, a thin, rambunctious, eyebrow studded, blond, dark eyebrowed waitress who was of jailbait age. She was a bit too zippy for me, but she handled Louie like a pro. I must say he was in RARE form this fine, overcast day. Maureen seemed to take the air right out of his sails though.
We ordered out drinks (A citrus cooler for me and the routine decaf coffee for Louie) and I set about perusing the atmosphere. Nothing startling about the Emerald Room really. Circa 1990's green with an upper deck that appeared to be used for a buffet and complete with fireplace and a bookshelf. I wondered why the bookcase? In case you decided to finish that last chapter of Moby Dick while waiting for your entree? Go figure.
Our drinks arrived via zippy Maureen and mine was pleasantly different. A mix of sprite and lemonade. Now why didn't I ever think of that? Impatient Maureen took our orders and zipped off into the bowels of the pub kitchen somewhere. I ordered the Veal Princess; tender veal cutlets lightly breaded and sauteed with baby shrimp and broccoli then topped with a hollandaise sauce and served with baked potato and corn, which was the veggie of the day. I also ordered an appetizer of baked artichoke. Louie ordered an appetizer of pasta with marinara sauce and garlic bread (he is SO Italian) and for his entree, he ordered one of the specials, rotisserie pork described as tender pork loin slow roasted, sliced thin and served with a honey Dijon sauce and served with potato.
My baked artichoke was delicious. It was served in a shallow baking dish filled to the rim with artichoke hearts topped with herb butter, white wine, swiss and parmesan cheeses and baked with bread crumbs. Yummmmm! It had a delicate citrus flavor to it and the artichokes seemed to melt in my mouth. Louie scarfed his pasta with marinara sauce and said his garlic bread was...well, garlic bread. Our meals came out shortly thereafter and I was reminded of why I never order baked potato. By the time I had the damn thing prepared, most of my meal was lukewarm. We had to ask Maureen for bread and more butter (minus ten points) and Louie asked why we didn't get salad. Maureen zipped out some answer to that, which for the life of me I cannot remember but Louie wasn't satisfied with the answer, that I remember.
Come dessert time, I ordered a hopscotch. The hopscotch is a butterscotch brownie covered with butterscotch fudge and topped with chocolate fudge, vanilla ice cream, whipped cream and topped with sprinkles and a cherry. Louie ordered more pasta with marinara sauce. Maureen thought he was joking at first but I confirmed he wasn't. Louie is SO Italian. My dessert was freakin' awesome!
Louie finished up by ordering one last piece of garlic bread and then complained about it's size when he got it. The bill was rather pricey if you ask me, but then if you aren't asking me you can just forget it. Louie fell in love with Maureen, but then Louie is a dirty old man. I found her a tad irritating and that ring in her eyebrow was driving me nuts. I kept wanting to pull it out, spank her and send her to her room.
Overall, I would rate Patrick's Pub a **** four star rating, right up there in comparison with last weeks review. The portions were a bit to be desired, we had to ask for bread, no salad was served and Maureen was irritating. The food was fairly good but not as tasty as I like and I would have gone lower had it not been for the artichoke appetizer and the hopscotch brownie. You can peruse the Patrick's Pub website by clicking HERE, but if you ask me they should concentrate more on improving their service than working on a website.
Most people in the area know that Patrick's Pub is famous for it's comedy night on Thursday. I'll have to check that out and order the artichoke dish again.
-Jeeem-
Don'tPanic.....
Louie & Jeeem's Restaurant Review will be posted a little late this time, due to SEVERE thunderstorms in the area. My whole house is vibrating! Sitting here watching a firefly outside my window and thinking of Shirl. Gotta shut this thing down before we get zapped....just to be safe. Will try posting the review in the morning.
-Jeeem-
Louie & Jeeem's Restaurant Review will be posted a little late this time, due to SEVERE thunderstorms in the area. My whole house is vibrating! Sitting here watching a firefly outside my window and thinking of Shirl. Gotta shut this thing down before we get zapped....just to be safe. Will try posting the review in the morning.
-Jeeem-
Sunday, June 23, 2002
(YAWN!)
I'm up, I'm up.....got a phone call from a friend at six-ten this morning. Did I say friend? Well, I should be getting up anyway. This weekend is going by at warp speed so I want to be able to enjoy at least a 'leeetle bit' of it. Good ole New Hampshire weather. It's the twenty-third of June, sixty degrees Fahrenheit (15.5 degrees Celsius to everybody else in the world) and overcast again. Yesterday it rained and rained and rained and rained. I woke up yesterday, looked out my bedroom window to a small puddle in my pond area and two hours later the damn thing was teeming full of water.
Now that I think about it, I need to tell all of you that my website is looking better and better! I have been paying it some mind, like I should, and have been working on it diligently, trying to get it up to speed again. Many of you have sent e-mails, telling me of missing or dead-end links and pages that will not open. I think I finally have those things fixed. I've also added some games and a link to my trip to the Philippines complete with pictures. Stay tuned and check it out if you have a chance. Please, please, please SIGN MY GUESTMAP located at the top of my welcome page. Thanks to those of you who have! Somehow, the dots on my map have a way of disappearing at will as the guestmap has a few bugs in it.
No Eve, I am not a urine drinker. I just thought it would peak someone's interest, the fact that somebody out there in cyberland would post something so disgusting. I suppose different strokes.......
I apologize ahead of time for not keeping up with my blogging duties but I honestly have been busy. I FINALLY completed my retched research project and turned the damn thing in after giving my presentation last week. Now, I'm taking the summer off from school. I'm planning on testing out of one of my courses for the Fall semester and will do an independent study for my last course. Then I will be edumakated and I will gradumakate myself. Work has me hopping too, as I am working with three Latino clients through an interpreter during this week. Very interesting undertaking.
So, time to catch up! Chris, aka Blacktelescope aka Zebulon Mysterioso aka Professor Bernard Quatermass, has got me thinking again. He says on my tagboard:
"I cut all my hair off a few months back and suddenly the world has stopped laughing at me. People just aren't educated to look beyond appearances, and it's a big shame."
Now this got me to thinking back.....remembering the old days, the golden rule days, the hazy-lazy-dazy days of summer......
I grew up with a mother who worked as a beautician aka hairdresser aka hair stylist. She was in charge of MY hair. As a kid, my hair was conservative to say the least. The style back then was short to buzz cut or "crew cut" in the military town of El Paso, Texas that housed the huge Army military base of Fort Bliss and Biggs Air Force Base.
When I entered sixth grade, at Rusk Elementary School, hair was starting to creep downwards with the gravity. This was 1968. The war was just getting started and by the time I was in Junior High at Bassett, "Hippy" was becoming a household term. Maynard G. Krebs became my secret idol. A "beatnik," they called him. I had actually met Bob Denver at an event in the Bassett Center Mall and had gotten the opportunity to shake his hand.
By the time I reached high school at Stephen F. Austin, the Vietnam War was grinding to a halt and the hair was getting longer. We had a "dress code" which forbid us to grow our hair beyond our collar and I got the double whammy of having a mother who was not only Conservative with a capital "C" but who was a hairdresser to boot.
In the early spring of 1971, a student from Burges High School in the northeastern section of El Paso, Texas, was expelled from school for failing to get his hair cut. His father was a bit liberal at the time and took the case to court. This started what we all remember in El Paso as the "Hell NO Let it Grow" movement. Somebody in the southern section of El Paso got an idea to stage a walk-out and a demonstration in protest of the conservative dress code and the whole thing grew in a snowball effect.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was a freshman at Austin and was sitting in Mrs. Myers English class. Suddenly, through the open windows we all began to hear a far off chant: "Hell NO Let It Grow!" As the sound got louder we all went to the windows to see scores of cars, vans, motorcycles and trucks, filled with kids and slowly cruising by our high school chanting "Hell NO Let It Grow!" Suddenly, kids were leaving the vehicles and coming right up to the school, helping kids climb out of windows and continuing their loud protest.
Mrs. Myers reminded all of us that we would be expelled if we left........just as I was crawling out the first floor window. The entourage continued on to Irvin high school, Burges, and finally ended up at Coronado high at around six-thirty that evening.
Boy did I catch hell for that. We were never expelled and the court case by the Burges student and his father was won. Our school dress code was changed to say we could wear our hair as long as we wanted and we could wear jeans. We just had to be decent and clean. Hallelujah!
My hair started to creep down to my shoulders and eventually the middle of my back. My mother protested but by this time my father had died of alcoholism, I had begun to follow in his footsteps and some rather exotic drugs had entered the scene. My mother lost the battle miserably. My hair was long, my jeans were faded and my tee-shirts began to advertise various logos such as: RORER 714 - Kalifornia Koolaid - Archie Bunker for President - 'scuse me while I kiss the sky' and the like.
Without even trying I entered an exclusive peer group known only as, "The Freaks." Our thing was to ditch class, hang out on the "Freak" street corner and smoke various herbal remedies. I had found my calling. My hair was a statement of freedom and non-conformity. I continued to wear it long after leaving high school for five more years until the military cut it off. It didn't take much to figure out why the military cut all your hair off....they wanted everyone stripped of their identity. No beards, no hair, everybody wearing the same thing.
I lasted four years in the Navy and discovered that they can rob me of my hair but they can't take the personality. I got out in 1983 and began to grow my hair back. Long hair for me has always meant freedom and non-conformity. When I began work at the prison, I had to shave it all off again. I was also told to take my bumper sticker off that said, "Question Authority." Can't understand why. I thought I was okay until I was told that the red, fuzzy little creature decal I had on the back window, flipping the bird, had to go too. DAMN.
So, here I am. Stripped of that freedom and non-conformity. Didn't work though as my reputation both at work and at-large is as a non-conformist. I just don't have the freedom to grow my hair long and still work in the environment where I work. Chris says people have stopped laughing at him. Hell, nobody laughed at me when I had long hair, they just dragged their kids back inside their homes and looked down their noses at me. Long hair = drug using, pot smoking, fornicating criminal. Well, at least I don't use drugs, smoke dope or engage in criminal activity anymore.....
So, when corresponding with Chris, this song by the Five Man Electric Band came to mind:
And the sign says "long hair freaky people need not apply"
So I put my hair under my hat and I went in to ask him why
He said you look like a fine outstanding young man I think you'll do
So I took off my hat I said "Imagine that Huh Me working for you"
Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Blocking up the scenery
Breaking up my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign
And the sign says "Anybody caught trespassing will be shot on sight"
So I jumped the fence and I yelled at the house, Hey! What gives you the right
To put up a fence And keep me out Or to keep Mother Nature in
If God was here He'd tell it to your face Man You're some kind of sinner
Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Blocking up the scenery
Breaking up my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign
Oh Say now mister Can't you read
You got to have a shirt and tie to get a seat
You can't watch No You can't eat You ain't supposed to be here
And the sign says "You got to have a membership card to get inside" Huh
And the sign says "Everybody welcome Come in Kneel down and pray"
But then they passed around a plate at the end of it all
And I didn't have a penny to pay
So I got me a pen and paper And I made up my own little sign
I said Thank you Lord for thinking about me I'm alive and doing fine
Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Blocking up the scenery
Breaking up my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign
Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Blocking up the scenery
Breaking up my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign
I wish, with all the chaos in the world, we could accept one another for the person and not the appearance. This of course, is impossible because of the few long hairs, bikers, suits, people of color, nerds, yuppies, skin heads, gays, tattooed folk, punks, button downs, sports wearers, and the plethora of other descriptive terms to describe certain specialty groups, that act the asshole and spoil the pot, so-to-speak. No matter where you go, no matter who you come into contact with, there will always be an asshole. So, it's not about them as much as it is about me. ME. I am the only one who is affected or who allows myself to be affected. I hope I can manage to truly give others the benefit of the doubt and hey.....if they fuck it up, screw em! Their loss.
Well campers, it's almost time for me to go get dressed in time to meet Louie. Come rain or shine, we've got a restaurant review to do! I'm getting some rave reviews from around the world on the review and I'm getting a very nice little paunch in the process too! Jeez, I'm starving just thinking about it. Gotta get back in time to post the review and give my African princess a holler on Net2phone so she can laugh at my "accent" that she doesn't possess. Yeah, right....her and her Champagne and pittles. Love talking to her though and currently she's prepping me for my Yerba Mate experience.....maybe I can get a tee-shirt!
-Jeeem-
I'm up, I'm up.....got a phone call from a friend at six-ten this morning. Did I say friend? Well, I should be getting up anyway. This weekend is going by at warp speed so I want to be able to enjoy at least a 'leeetle bit' of it. Good ole New Hampshire weather. It's the twenty-third of June, sixty degrees Fahrenheit (15.5 degrees Celsius to everybody else in the world) and overcast again. Yesterday it rained and rained and rained and rained. I woke up yesterday, looked out my bedroom window to a small puddle in my pond area and two hours later the damn thing was teeming full of water.
Now that I think about it, I need to tell all of you that my website is looking better and better! I have been paying it some mind, like I should, and have been working on it diligently, trying to get it up to speed again. Many of you have sent e-mails, telling me of missing or dead-end links and pages that will not open. I think I finally have those things fixed. I've also added some games and a link to my trip to the Philippines complete with pictures. Stay tuned and check it out if you have a chance. Please, please, please SIGN MY GUESTMAP located at the top of my welcome page. Thanks to those of you who have! Somehow, the dots on my map have a way of disappearing at will as the guestmap has a few bugs in it.
No Eve, I am not a urine drinker. I just thought it would peak someone's interest, the fact that somebody out there in cyberland would post something so disgusting. I suppose different strokes.......
I apologize ahead of time for not keeping up with my blogging duties but I honestly have been busy. I FINALLY completed my retched research project and turned the damn thing in after giving my presentation last week. Now, I'm taking the summer off from school. I'm planning on testing out of one of my courses for the Fall semester and will do an independent study for my last course. Then I will be edumakated and I will gradumakate myself. Work has me hopping too, as I am working with three Latino clients through an interpreter during this week. Very interesting undertaking.
So, time to catch up! Chris, aka Blacktelescope aka Zebulon Mysterioso aka Professor Bernard Quatermass, has got me thinking again. He says on my tagboard:
"I cut all my hair off a few months back and suddenly the world has stopped laughing at me. People just aren't educated to look beyond appearances, and it's a big shame."
Now this got me to thinking back.....remembering the old days, the golden rule days, the hazy-lazy-dazy days of summer......
I grew up with a mother who worked as a beautician aka hairdresser aka hair stylist. She was in charge of MY hair. As a kid, my hair was conservative to say the least. The style back then was short to buzz cut or "crew cut" in the military town of El Paso, Texas that housed the huge Army military base of Fort Bliss and Biggs Air Force Base.
When I entered sixth grade, at Rusk Elementary School, hair was starting to creep downwards with the gravity. This was 1968. The war was just getting started and by the time I was in Junior High at Bassett, "Hippy" was becoming a household term. Maynard G. Krebs became my secret idol. A "beatnik," they called him. I had actually met Bob Denver at an event in the Bassett Center Mall and had gotten the opportunity to shake his hand.
By the time I reached high school at Stephen F. Austin, the Vietnam War was grinding to a halt and the hair was getting longer. We had a "dress code" which forbid us to grow our hair beyond our collar and I got the double whammy of having a mother who was not only Conservative with a capital "C" but who was a hairdresser to boot.
In the early spring of 1971, a student from Burges High School in the northeastern section of El Paso, Texas, was expelled from school for failing to get his hair cut. His father was a bit liberal at the time and took the case to court. This started what we all remember in El Paso as the "Hell NO Let it Grow" movement. Somebody in the southern section of El Paso got an idea to stage a walk-out and a demonstration in protest of the conservative dress code and the whole thing grew in a snowball effect.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was a freshman at Austin and was sitting in Mrs. Myers English class. Suddenly, through the open windows we all began to hear a far off chant: "Hell NO Let It Grow!" As the sound got louder we all went to the windows to see scores of cars, vans, motorcycles and trucks, filled with kids and slowly cruising by our high school chanting "Hell NO Let It Grow!" Suddenly, kids were leaving the vehicles and coming right up to the school, helping kids climb out of windows and continuing their loud protest.
Mrs. Myers reminded all of us that we would be expelled if we left........just as I was crawling out the first floor window. The entourage continued on to Irvin high school, Burges, and finally ended up at Coronado high at around six-thirty that evening.
Boy did I catch hell for that. We were never expelled and the court case by the Burges student and his father was won. Our school dress code was changed to say we could wear our hair as long as we wanted and we could wear jeans. We just had to be decent and clean. Hallelujah!
My hair started to creep down to my shoulders and eventually the middle of my back. My mother protested but by this time my father had died of alcoholism, I had begun to follow in his footsteps and some rather exotic drugs had entered the scene. My mother lost the battle miserably. My hair was long, my jeans were faded and my tee-shirts began to advertise various logos such as: RORER 714 - Kalifornia Koolaid - Archie Bunker for President - 'scuse me while I kiss the sky' and the like.
Without even trying I entered an exclusive peer group known only as, "The Freaks." Our thing was to ditch class, hang out on the "Freak" street corner and smoke various herbal remedies. I had found my calling. My hair was a statement of freedom and non-conformity. I continued to wear it long after leaving high school for five more years until the military cut it off. It didn't take much to figure out why the military cut all your hair off....they wanted everyone stripped of their identity. No beards, no hair, everybody wearing the same thing.
I lasted four years in the Navy and discovered that they can rob me of my hair but they can't take the personality. I got out in 1983 and began to grow my hair back. Long hair for me has always meant freedom and non-conformity. When I began work at the prison, I had to shave it all off again. I was also told to take my bumper sticker off that said, "Question Authority." Can't understand why. I thought I was okay until I was told that the red, fuzzy little creature decal I had on the back window, flipping the bird, had to go too. DAMN.
So, here I am. Stripped of that freedom and non-conformity. Didn't work though as my reputation both at work and at-large is as a non-conformist. I just don't have the freedom to grow my hair long and still work in the environment where I work. Chris says people have stopped laughing at him. Hell, nobody laughed at me when I had long hair, they just dragged their kids back inside their homes and looked down their noses at me. Long hair = drug using, pot smoking, fornicating criminal. Well, at least I don't use drugs, smoke dope or engage in criminal activity anymore.....
So, when corresponding with Chris, this song by the Five Man Electric Band came to mind:
And the sign says "long hair freaky people need not apply"
So I put my hair under my hat and I went in to ask him why
He said you look like a fine outstanding young man I think you'll do
So I took off my hat I said "Imagine that Huh Me working for you"
Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Blocking up the scenery
Breaking up my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign
And the sign says "Anybody caught trespassing will be shot on sight"
So I jumped the fence and I yelled at the house, Hey! What gives you the right
To put up a fence And keep me out Or to keep Mother Nature in
If God was here He'd tell it to your face Man You're some kind of sinner
Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Blocking up the scenery
Breaking up my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign
Oh Say now mister Can't you read
You got to have a shirt and tie to get a seat
You can't watch No You can't eat You ain't supposed to be here
And the sign says "You got to have a membership card to get inside" Huh
And the sign says "Everybody welcome Come in Kneel down and pray"
But then they passed around a plate at the end of it all
And I didn't have a penny to pay
So I got me a pen and paper And I made up my own little sign
I said Thank you Lord for thinking about me I'm alive and doing fine
Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Blocking up the scenery
Breaking up my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign
Signs Signs
Everywhere there's signs
Blocking up the scenery
Breaking up my mind
Do this, don't do that
Can't you read the sign
I wish, with all the chaos in the world, we could accept one another for the person and not the appearance. This of course, is impossible because of the few long hairs, bikers, suits, people of color, nerds, yuppies, skin heads, gays, tattooed folk, punks, button downs, sports wearers, and the plethora of other descriptive terms to describe certain specialty groups, that act the asshole and spoil the pot, so-to-speak. No matter where you go, no matter who you come into contact with, there will always be an asshole. So, it's not about them as much as it is about me. ME. I am the only one who is affected or who allows myself to be affected. I hope I can manage to truly give others the benefit of the doubt and hey.....if they fuck it up, screw em! Their loss.
Well campers, it's almost time for me to go get dressed in time to meet Louie. Come rain or shine, we've got a restaurant review to do! I'm getting some rave reviews from around the world on the review and I'm getting a very nice little paunch in the process too! Jeez, I'm starving just thinking about it. Gotta get back in time to post the review and give my African princess a holler on Net2phone so she can laugh at my "accent" that she doesn't possess. Yeah, right....her and her Champagne and pittles. Love talking to her though and currently she's prepping me for my Yerba Mate experience.....maybe I can get a tee-shirt!
-Jeeem-
Monday, June 17, 2002
Eve thinks she has found the Fountain of Youth, but little does she know that to find it properly, one just has to do a Google Search of the subject.....
Make sure and peruse Ahmen Heaven's "Fountain of Youth" whose source is closer than you think! Ahmen is a true N.U.T. a Naturopathic Urine Therapist of course. So don't buy into all those commercial products touted on the TV and smeared over youthful bodies of Heather Locklear, Pamela Anderson and the like! Check out Ahmen Heaven's cure....
Whatcha got to lose?
-Jeeem-
Make sure and peruse Ahmen Heaven's "Fountain of Youth" whose source is closer than you think! Ahmen is a true N.U.T. a Naturopathic Urine Therapist of course. So don't buy into all those commercial products touted on the TV and smeared over youthful bodies of Heather Locklear, Pamela Anderson and the like! Check out Ahmen Heaven's cure....
Whatcha got to lose?
-Jeeem-
So, I'm talking with Eve last night on Net2Phone and razzing her about her British/Australian/Irish/Afrikaans accent that she says she doesn't possess.....
Afterwards she goes through her rebuttal of, "Ye sound American Jeeem!"
No shit Sherlock.
So, we are rambling on amidst our occasional fervid convictions for one another when the conversation turns to Yeba Mate. This stuff works wonders Eve claims. You see, she has several secrets she holds tight to her bosom that allow her a warrant to youthfulness. Yeba Mate is only one of them. Onions and sugar and a garlic clove a day add to the picture, but we will save those noxious concoctions for another time....
So, while chatting with Eve, I run a Google Search of Yeba Mate and what do I find on the second search page? Eve's Blogger link! Seriously! She didn't believe me at first and thought me to be tugging at her pretty leg. Never! I can't understand why she would think such a thing! Sure enough! There in black and white (or blue and white depending on your screen) was a link for her blog! That's cool. The only thing we can figure is she mentions Yeba Mate so often that Google must have picked it up.
Eve's sending me some to try. Wonder if I'll have to change my sobriety date? Heh, heh....
-Jeeem-
Afterwards she goes through her rebuttal of, "Ye sound American Jeeem!"
No shit Sherlock.
So, we are rambling on amidst our occasional fervid convictions for one another when the conversation turns to Yeba Mate. This stuff works wonders Eve claims. You see, she has several secrets she holds tight to her bosom that allow her a warrant to youthfulness. Yeba Mate is only one of them. Onions and sugar and a garlic clove a day add to the picture, but we will save those noxious concoctions for another time....
So, while chatting with Eve, I run a Google Search of Yeba Mate and what do I find on the second search page? Eve's Blogger link! Seriously! She didn't believe me at first and thought me to be tugging at her pretty leg. Never! I can't understand why she would think such a thing! Sure enough! There in black and white (or blue and white depending on your screen) was a link for her blog! That's cool. The only thing we can figure is she mentions Yeba Mate so often that Google must have picked it up.
Eve's sending me some to try. Wonder if I'll have to change my sobriety date? Heh, heh....
-Jeeem-
Well, there you have it. Louie and I have ventured out into far away places. We decided to head West this time and sorta north. New London is well known in New Hampshire for housing the prig, the pristine, the erudite, the right-wing, the beau monde. Ah hell, we call em' R-I-C-H with a capital $. This is an interesting little community of the college preppy types and their parents who rarely rub shoulders with the proletarians such as myself. It's a college town, housing the beautiful campus of Colby-Sawyer. Just down the road in Sunapee, lives the Tellarico family, their son better known as Steven Tyler of the popular rock band, Aerosmith. Steve owns a place on Lake Sunapee and can be seen often in the quaint little town of New London.
All interesting history to the side, Louie and I loosened our belts and sauntered on into MacKenna's where we seated ourselves in a sunny booth looking out on the beautiful expanse of asphalt parking lot at New London Shopping Center. This is where the sister store of Cricenti's sits, for those of you who were wondering. We were soon greeted by ......yet another.....gorgeous waitress. Nope, no green eyes this time. Just a long, long, long, lonnnnnnnnnng, ponytail. Ahem....back to the review.
I shamefully ordered the seafood combination plate (I hate change), a garden salad with blue cheese (told ya I hate change) and decided to get wild and ordered a coke float with vanilla ice cream. Louie ordered the baked haddock, homemade mashed potatoes (complete with lumps) with gravy, green beans and a salad with (you guessed it) Italian dressing. Louie got wild and ordered a decaf coffee. Our salads came out quickly and were .....well, salads. The rolls Ms. Ponytail brought out were absolutely wonderful. They were wheat rolls, hot from the oven (or microwave) and had a taste of honey to them. I ended up eating Louie's roll and he asked two waitresses, Ms. Ponytail and a rather young cherub with an apron, if he could have some more rolls because I ate his. We ended up with four of them and I chowed down again. Man, were these suckers good!
The meal portion was a little on the chintzy side if you ask me, but overall the quality was good. But hey, how the hell can you tell when everything is fried? Oh well. I scarfed up my fries and my shrimp, then turned to the clams. These were especially good. There was all of four scallops, bay size and two ity-bity triangles of haddock. Hey, I'm a big growing guy! I gotta EAT!
Louie was very, very happy with his meal and rated this one right up there with the best. Me? Well, I'm rushing things a bit. Ms. Ponytail came back and offered the dessert menu. I told Louie he was a cheap bastard cause he didn't buy any dessert for us at the last meal at George's Tick Farm in Plymouth. (I didn't mention to him that I couldn't have eaten another thing I was so full....at least George's Tick Farm knows how to pile up the portions!) I got a good rise out of Louie by doing so and he caused quite the ruckus. Those New Londonites will be talking about us for weeks to come! He still declined the dessert and I showed him how to do it up right.
I ordered the Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie Ala Mode. Ms. Ponytail smiled a grand smile, congratulated me on my choice and said to me in a sultry voice, "Can I heat it for you?"
Oh baby!
Can you ever! Ha! So, I knew it then.....she wanted me.
So, thinking quickly, I sprinkled some luciferin on her while she was standing there (Firefly powder to you unenlightened...no pun intended) and could immediately see her signal was different than mine! You see, Louie asked her if she was married and she said no. Then he asked her if she WANTED to get married and she said no, never again. Another victim of the Sucky American Marriage. Too bad the luciferin wore off so quickly, maybe I'd have had a chance.
The Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie with the huge chunk of vanilla on it, heated by Ms. Ponytail herself, just wasn't enough. I gotta give this place a lower rating just on the infinitesimal portions alone. Louie raved about the place, but I think some of the luciferin musta gotten on him. I tipped her adequately for the pie warming maneuver though.
I rate MacKenna's Restaurant a **** four star rating, ignoring Louie's pleads of unfairness. After all, it's my damn laptop, not his. Stay tuned for next week....Cya then!
-Jeeem-
Sunday, June 16, 2002
This is the stuff that made my daddy happy.
This is the stuff that made me sad.
Me and dear old mommy used to play a game....
Find the bottle.
My daddy was good at hiding these. He had all different sizes of them.
We never found them all.
Once, when I was seventeen, I found one between the fence and the neighbors garage...almost a year and a half after this stuff killed my dear old dad.....and I drank it.
Rest in peace dude....
Dear Daddy,
Hi there Andy! (All my dads friends called him that) It's been a while hasn't it? Last I remember, I was at your funeral at the Fort Bliss Cemetery, listening to the twenty-one gun salute. I was a pretty mixed up kid then dad. I didn't know what to think. I figured I was supposed to be sad; that I was supposed to cry, but I just couldn't. You know why? Cause you weren't a big part of my life.
After you kicked the bucket I got to fly to Dallas and stay with your sister's and your brother. I got to see the whole damn family. I was a real freak back then, with hair down to my ass and an attitude to match. Your sister, aunt sis, and uncle Wayland didn't even recognize me. I stayed with aunt sis for a few days and got to drive her car even though mommy had told her not to lend it to me. I drove out on Harry Hines boulevard and lost my first ten dollars gambling on a game of eight ball, shooting pool with a black guy who hustled me. I was following in your footsteps pretty good eh? I never was as good as you, shooting pool.
The second day I was with aunt sis, Jan called me. Remember Jan? Your first son Gene's daughter, my half niece? Well, she had heard from Becky, Wayland's daughter, that I was a freak and she asked me out to party. Aunt sis said that mommy had told her previous to my flying to Dallas, not to allow me to meet that side of the family. I couldn't imagine why back then, but BOY do I know now!
Jan and I went to Joy's bar in Red Oak, The Pink Pussycat. You know Joy, Gene's wife, my half sister-in-law, Jan's mom. Well, let me tell you dad, she is some UGLY!! That was a bad part of town too. I shot pool and talked with Joy. That night someone got shot at in the parking lot, a fight broke out and a white woman tried to commit suicide by sniffing the gas from the hot water heater. I didn't stay long. Later, I went to Joy's place in Red Oak and we partied some more. We got drunk, smoked a fatty and snorted some meth crystal.
We were pretty high but Joy and Jan decided to tell me who my real mother was. That sobered me up pretty good dad. I never knew that you had screwed the maid and that you were my real father. Funny, remember how everybody who thought I was your adopted son made comments about how much I looked like you? I was kinda pissed that you and mom always lied to me about what the real story was. I'm okay with it now though and I forgive you dad. I never said anything to mom. Jan and Joy made me promise I wouldn't. They said it would kill mom. I think she would have just denied it.
Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that. I didn't want you to always wonder if I would find out or not. Funny isn't it? Funny how your son Gene's wife and his first daughter ended up telling me. Jesus that's weird. Oh well. Oh, just one more thing dad....I know you'll be proud....
I got sober and clean when I was thirty-eight. Mostly had to, cause I was standing in a courtroom facing a federal prison sentence. I was a little bit wilder than you were. So now I'm a drug and alcohol counselor at the local prison. Told you you'd be proud! Haven't had a drink or done any drugs in almost nine years now. I've been traveling too! You and mom always talked about Asia and Australia and I ended up catching the traveling bug. Oh, and I joined the service too. Got out in 1983. Sorry dad, but I joined the Navy. I know, I know.....well, the damn Army wouldn't give me what I wanted. Sorry about that.
Hey, I gotta go. I'm really not pissed anymore that you wasted your life away on that bar stool. You were carrying a pretty big secret. I learned from you though, dad. I learned to live an honest life and to not keep secrets that will eat you alive. So, as crazy as it might seem, I thank you for destroying your life and teaching me a lesson in the process. Sometimes we learn best from other peoples, and our own, mistakes.
See ya dad....
And Happy Daddies Day!
-Jeeem-
Saturday, June 15, 2002
Chapter six is up! Naked Novel is coming along wonderfully and Burrow's is screwed. Make sure and check out Caitlin's wonderful contribution to the story! She is a true jewel to the writing trades. Personally, I wish I could have put a little more effort into my Chapter but trial and error is good for the soul. Only two more authors to go and then I'm not sure what will happen. Maybe we'll end up going around again.....maybe not. Time will tell.
Well, I purchased Lawnmower Number Five. I actually found a credit card that I hadn't maxed out and ended up charging the thing.....A SNAPPER. Now there's a name for ya. So, I took the thing home yesterday afternoon and "Snapped" my lawn to the tune of almost two whole hours and two tanks of gas. It seems part of my lawn had gone "jungle" on me. I stayed right with it until I had it done as the weather forecast for New Hampshire was ..... rain, rain, and more rain.
So, here I sit today with rain coming down to beat the band, looking out upon my newly mowed lawn. My lilacs are already gone by but my Alexandera Wine and Roses Weigela, white bleeding hearts, Iris, daisies, orange Indian paintbrush, brimeura, star-of-nature, pink bleeding hearts, allium unifolium and fritillaria are all in full bloom. It appears that the little furry creatures are at it again, planting stuff in my garden that I did not authorize. I have found an interesting array of cat tails in my pond, yellow lilies in my side garden and a lone Jack-in-the-Pulpit that has appeared beside my house.
I plan to break down and order some Clematis for the yard this year and once again, I'm waiting for my smoke bush to "smoke" but it doesn't look promising this year.
So, I have taken a vow of gas powered machine empathy to treat my new Snapper with care and I've begun rock and large stick hunting before I venture forth with my new petrol powered, gas guzzling, noise machine. The only good I actually see out of it is the lawn looks good and it produces yards of good compost. *Sigh*
I almost forgot to mention my award-winning yellow Foxglove that decided to appear once again. It seems to stretch the bi-annual coming out party a bit, by skipping a few years in-between. Of course it could be that I end up ripping it out in the spring as its foliage is a bit less than easy on the eye. This one is gonna be a doosey though, as it is already at least two and a half feet tall and looking healthy as a ..... well, a foxglove I suppose. Anybody got any enemies? I can grind you up some good, high quality Digitalis! One sip and they won't know what hit them! Ya know, ya really gotta be careful about these poisonous plants in our gardens! I mean, ya never know what will happen when your refrigerator and food shelves are empty and ya turn to eating those yummy looking plants in your garden! Best be careful!
Okay, okay....too much Java again. At least I'm not addicted to that yeba mate swill that Eve slurps down each day in ritual format. I'm gonna have to try some of that stuff. Wonder if you need a physician's prescription for it?
-Jeeem-
Well, I purchased Lawnmower Number Five. I actually found a credit card that I hadn't maxed out and ended up charging the thing.....A SNAPPER. Now there's a name for ya. So, I took the thing home yesterday afternoon and "Snapped" my lawn to the tune of almost two whole hours and two tanks of gas. It seems part of my lawn had gone "jungle" on me. I stayed right with it until I had it done as the weather forecast for New Hampshire was ..... rain, rain, and more rain.
So, here I sit today with rain coming down to beat the band, looking out upon my newly mowed lawn. My lilacs are already gone by but my Alexandera Wine and Roses Weigela, white bleeding hearts, Iris, daisies, orange Indian paintbrush, brimeura, star-of-nature, pink bleeding hearts, allium unifolium and fritillaria are all in full bloom. It appears that the little furry creatures are at it again, planting stuff in my garden that I did not authorize. I have found an interesting array of cat tails in my pond, yellow lilies in my side garden and a lone Jack-in-the-Pulpit that has appeared beside my house.
I plan to break down and order some Clematis for the yard this year and once again, I'm waiting for my smoke bush to "smoke" but it doesn't look promising this year.
So, I have taken a vow of gas powered machine empathy to treat my new Snapper with care and I've begun rock and large stick hunting before I venture forth with my new petrol powered, gas guzzling, noise machine. The only good I actually see out of it is the lawn looks good and it produces yards of good compost. *Sigh*
I almost forgot to mention my award-winning yellow Foxglove that decided to appear once again. It seems to stretch the bi-annual coming out party a bit, by skipping a few years in-between. Of course it could be that I end up ripping it out in the spring as its foliage is a bit less than easy on the eye. This one is gonna be a doosey though, as it is already at least two and a half feet tall and looking healthy as a ..... well, a foxglove I suppose. Anybody got any enemies? I can grind you up some good, high quality Digitalis! One sip and they won't know what hit them! Ya know, ya really gotta be careful about these poisonous plants in our gardens! I mean, ya never know what will happen when your refrigerator and food shelves are empty and ya turn to eating those yummy looking plants in your garden! Best be careful!
Okay, okay....too much Java again. At least I'm not addicted to that yeba mate swill that Eve slurps down each day in ritual format. I'm gonna have to try some of that stuff. Wonder if you need a physician's prescription for it?
-Jeeem-
Friday, June 14, 2002
Monday, June 10, 2002
And now.......
What you all have been anxiously waiting for.....
Without further ado....
the infamous....
the ever popular....
Welcome to Jeeem & Louie's Weekly Restaurant Review!
Today we are reviewing:
GEORGE'S BBQ & SEAFOOD CENTER & FAMILY DINING
Tenney Mountain Highway, Plymouth, New Hampshire
Well, it's been a while since I've eaten at this place and it sure has changed. A few years back the place was barn red and looked like it had been plucked off the docks at Gloucester, replete with lobster traps, faded and moldy nets and colorful buoys. Now the outside is sided a light beige and they still have an outside order window and picnic tables to set at. They also have added a deck with tables and umbrellas. The decor inside is new to the point you can still smell the pine. It's fixed up in a nice family atmosphere and very pleasant if you ask me. A local man's paintings hang on the wall and the walls are stenciled in milk paint above the wainscoting.
Louie was a bear today because the waitress took a few minutes to seat us. Once seated, she handed us our menu's and handled Louie like an old pro, sticking right with him blow for blow and smiling to beat the band. She was a real cutie.....all, .....what? Ninety two pounds of her? Green eyes again! I'm a sucker for green eyes but this gal coulda been my daughter.
Oh, sorry....back to the review. Louie and I both ordered the Fisherman's platter. Louie got the rice, coleslaw and the salad with Italian dressing (naturally) and I took the Cajun fries, coleslaw and bluecheese dressing. The salads came out quickly, were plentiful and came with a nice big basket of soft french bread with real butter packets. Louie and I were wolfing down our salads when he noticed something crawling on his leg. Looking down he picked off a tick. About two minutes later I felt something crawling on my leg and sure enough, it was a tick.
Except for the notable tick infestation, the restaurant was great. Our platters were heaped with delicious fried scallops, whole clams, shrimp, a nice hunk of haddock and an oyster or two with fries and onion rings mixed in. Our waitress was the only one working today and there was only one cook. Two people to handle this whole restaurant. No wonder she's thin. The cook came out a couple times to help the waitress and being that it was only coming up on 12:30 p.m., I could not imagine how they were going to handle the afternoon crowd. Plymouth is a college town and this is motorcycle weekend. Holy Toledo! She'll be soaking her feet when she gets home tonight!
We sipped out drinks and I tried to finish my platter, falling short and having to ask for a doggie bag for my remaining whole clams. The waitress was running around like a chicken with her head cut off, trying to get to every table in the place. Louie and I were the only ones there at 11:50 a.m. and when we left, the place was filling up with a total of six parties.
The menu in this restaurant has quite the variety to offer. I saw several types of seafood offered, along with surf & turf. There was a decent section offering Italian varieties and of course, several BBQ dishes. They offer interesting appetizers such as Cajun fries and other delights and a nice sandwich section in the back. The board up front at the counter showed the daily specials of stuffed crab, a two-way selection of seafood and a stuffed shrimp dish. The deserts sounded delectable with such delights as, "Strawberry rhubarb pie alamode" and "Oreo cookie cheesecake." Yummmm.
Louie and I agreed wholeheartedly that this restaurant was better than any we have tried yet....by far. Therefore we both gave it a ***** 1/2 five and a half star rating, the best so far. If this place gets some more help, hires an exterminator and offers a few more specials on their "daily specials" board, they will soar into the six and seven star category on Louie and Jeeem's rating scale for sure.
-Jeeem- (of Louie and Jeeem)
What you all have been anxiously waiting for.....
Without further ado....
the infamous....
the ever popular....
Well, it's been a while since I've eaten at this place and it sure has changed. A few years back the place was barn red and looked like it had been plucked off the docks at Gloucester, replete with lobster traps, faded and moldy nets and colorful buoys. Now the outside is sided a light beige and they still have an outside order window and picnic tables to set at. They also have added a deck with tables and umbrellas. The decor inside is new to the point you can still smell the pine. It's fixed up in a nice family atmosphere and very pleasant if you ask me. A local man's paintings hang on the wall and the walls are stenciled in milk paint above the wainscoting.
Louie was a bear today because the waitress took a few minutes to seat us. Once seated, she handed us our menu's and handled Louie like an old pro, sticking right with him blow for blow and smiling to beat the band. She was a real cutie.....all, .....what? Ninety two pounds of her? Green eyes again! I'm a sucker for green eyes but this gal coulda been my daughter.
Oh, sorry....back to the review. Louie and I both ordered the Fisherman's platter. Louie got the rice, coleslaw and the salad with Italian dressing (naturally) and I took the Cajun fries, coleslaw and bluecheese dressing. The salads came out quickly, were plentiful and came with a nice big basket of soft french bread with real butter packets. Louie and I were wolfing down our salads when he noticed something crawling on his leg. Looking down he picked off a tick. About two minutes later I felt something crawling on my leg and sure enough, it was a tick.
Except for the notable tick infestation, the restaurant was great. Our platters were heaped with delicious fried scallops, whole clams, shrimp, a nice hunk of haddock and an oyster or two with fries and onion rings mixed in. Our waitress was the only one working today and there was only one cook. Two people to handle this whole restaurant. No wonder she's thin. The cook came out a couple times to help the waitress and being that it was only coming up on 12:30 p.m., I could not imagine how they were going to handle the afternoon crowd. Plymouth is a college town and this is motorcycle weekend. Holy Toledo! She'll be soaking her feet when she gets home tonight!
We sipped out drinks and I tried to finish my platter, falling short and having to ask for a doggie bag for my remaining whole clams. The waitress was running around like a chicken with her head cut off, trying to get to every table in the place. Louie and I were the only ones there at 11:50 a.m. and when we left, the place was filling up with a total of six parties.
The menu in this restaurant has quite the variety to offer. I saw several types of seafood offered, along with surf & turf. There was a decent section offering Italian varieties and of course, several BBQ dishes. They offer interesting appetizers such as Cajun fries and other delights and a nice sandwich section in the back. The board up front at the counter showed the daily specials of stuffed crab, a two-way selection of seafood and a stuffed shrimp dish. The deserts sounded delectable with such delights as, "Strawberry rhubarb pie alamode" and "Oreo cookie cheesecake." Yummmm.
Louie and I agreed wholeheartedly that this restaurant was better than any we have tried yet....by far. Therefore we both gave it a ***** 1/2 five and a half star rating, the best so far. If this place gets some more help, hires an exterminator and offers a few more specials on their "daily specials" board, they will soar into the six and seven star category on Louie and Jeeem's rating scale for sure.
-Jeeem- (of Louie and Jeeem)
It's two p.m.....time to take my pill.
Peter says my dreams are coming from the pills. How the hell do they get those dreams in there?
Gotta get to the town dump before it closes.............not much happening at the dump today and nothing much in the "good stuff" pile. I don't think I could ever live in a big city anymore, I'd miss the little perks of living out in the country. You know you're a resident when the dump guy knows your name and lets you in whether you've got a sticker or not.
The thunderstorms are on their way. The clouds are dark to the northwest and you can see the underside of the leaves. I love thunderstorms.
I finally changed the catbox. Funny thing about that little devise....if you leave it alone long enough without emptying it, the stench will eventually remind you that it's time to dump it out and put clean litter in there. Funny how such a small damn cat can generate such a terrible stink. She'll be right in there the minute I put fresh litter in the thing, whether she's gotta go or not, it seems to be a rite of passage or something for her....gotta initiate the damn thing or some such deal.
Fireflies. Leave it to Shirl to always end up coming up with a subject that gets my though processes going. ...
When I was growing up in El Paso, Texas I don't remember fireflies. My mom used to say the lit-up bugs in the way of the beam of light from the projector at the drive-in theatre was fireflies but I eventually found out they were just moths. The first firefly I saw was in Glencliff, New Hampshire.
My wife and I were staying at her father's cabin in Glencliff. I was outside, probably trying to avoid her father who after a few beers would always get like my old man used to.....mean as hell. I saw a firefly and there was no mistaking it. I ran inside and grabbed a mason jar and ran back outside to trap it. Once I had it, I began to look around for more of them and low and behold, when I looked up, I saw literally hundreds of them.
My father-in-law the jerk ended up poking fun at me but I didn't care. I just told him to shove it up his butt where no fireflies could be seen and continued on to enjoy the light show. Pity that some people never learn to appreciate the simpler things in life. He was such a miserable man. I guess I was all of about twenty-nine or thirty years old then.
I watched those fireflies that night until I was one big mosquito bite. Blinking on and off, on and off, on and off, well into the night. Some of them landed on me and I could see them up close, their luminescence bright enough to see the material of my pants. Like little live lanterns. They never fail to amaze me even now when I occasionally see one fly up close to the bedroom screen while I'm lying in bed.
-Jeeem-
Peter says my dreams are coming from the pills. How the hell do they get those dreams in there?
Gotta get to the town dump before it closes.............not much happening at the dump today and nothing much in the "good stuff" pile. I don't think I could ever live in a big city anymore, I'd miss the little perks of living out in the country. You know you're a resident when the dump guy knows your name and lets you in whether you've got a sticker or not.
The thunderstorms are on their way. The clouds are dark to the northwest and you can see the underside of the leaves. I love thunderstorms.
I finally changed the catbox. Funny thing about that little devise....if you leave it alone long enough without emptying it, the stench will eventually remind you that it's time to dump it out and put clean litter in there. Funny how such a small damn cat can generate such a terrible stink. She'll be right in there the minute I put fresh litter in the thing, whether she's gotta go or not, it seems to be a rite of passage or something for her....gotta initiate the damn thing or some such deal.
Fireflies. Leave it to Shirl to always end up coming up with a subject that gets my though processes going. ...
When I was growing up in El Paso, Texas I don't remember fireflies. My mom used to say the lit-up bugs in the way of the beam of light from the projector at the drive-in theatre was fireflies but I eventually found out they were just moths. The first firefly I saw was in Glencliff, New Hampshire.
My wife and I were staying at her father's cabin in Glencliff. I was outside, probably trying to avoid her father who after a few beers would always get like my old man used to.....mean as hell. I saw a firefly and there was no mistaking it. I ran inside and grabbed a mason jar and ran back outside to trap it. Once I had it, I began to look around for more of them and low and behold, when I looked up, I saw literally hundreds of them.
My father-in-law the jerk ended up poking fun at me but I didn't care. I just told him to shove it up his butt where no fireflies could be seen and continued on to enjoy the light show. Pity that some people never learn to appreciate the simpler things in life. He was such a miserable man. I guess I was all of about twenty-nine or thirty years old then.
I watched those fireflies that night until I was one big mosquito bite. Blinking on and off, on and off, on and off, well into the night. Some of them landed on me and I could see them up close, their luminescence bright enough to see the material of my pants. Like little live lanterns. They never fail to amaze me even now when I occasionally see one fly up close to the bedroom screen while I'm lying in bed.
-Jeeem-
Sunday, June 09, 2002
Blogger seems to be down this morning but I can still get to my publishing page.......Yippee!
So, I'm lying in bed having this awful dream. I'm behind a group of burned out cars at a border crossing of what looks like Mexico, a place I am familiar with, and as dreams usually go, I know why I'm there and what I'm doing but nothing makes any sense. The scene is tense and I'm with other caucasians, watching a large group of Asain folk, wearing non's, crossing a bridge and carrying guns.
Smoke is everywhere and I hear a muted rambling of Vietnamese. The people crossing the bridge turn and eye us suspiciously, stopping every few feet to look back at us. Suddenly a shot rings out and all hell breaks loose. I am ducking behind the vehicles, hearing the loud ping of metal on metal and the whizzing of bullets as they zip by my head.
Panic-stricken I run, staying low and come face to face with a chain link fence that I cannot pass. I turn and begin to run in the opposite direction, feeling bullets come within inches of my body, whizzing past me, when I suddenly hear a voice say, "Here! Come with me!" I turn to see an Asian face of a woman I recognize but cannot place. Her face looks so familiar but I can't place her. She is holding a .45 loosely and is running in the direction of the bridge. I hesitate for a second and then grab the gun from her in a panic.
What happens next caused me to jolt awake in a cold sweat.....
I point the gun at her. She cringes as I shoot. The bullet hits her someplace, evident in her violent recoil. I fire again and again, panicked and shaking, trying to kill her and confused because I cannot place this woman's face. My shaking causes the bullets to miss as she stands defiantly in front of me with a look of disgust on her face as if to say, "I try to help you and now you want to kill me." Then I wake up suddenly.
Where the hell did that come from? Not on my list of favorite dreams to wake up to, that is for sure.
-Jeeem-
So, I'm lying in bed having this awful dream. I'm behind a group of burned out cars at a border crossing of what looks like Mexico, a place I am familiar with, and as dreams usually go, I know why I'm there and what I'm doing but nothing makes any sense. The scene is tense and I'm with other caucasians, watching a large group of Asain folk, wearing non's, crossing a bridge and carrying guns.
Smoke is everywhere and I hear a muted rambling of Vietnamese. The people crossing the bridge turn and eye us suspiciously, stopping every few feet to look back at us. Suddenly a shot rings out and all hell breaks loose. I am ducking behind the vehicles, hearing the loud ping of metal on metal and the whizzing of bullets as they zip by my head.
Panic-stricken I run, staying low and come face to face with a chain link fence that I cannot pass. I turn and begin to run in the opposite direction, feeling bullets come within inches of my body, whizzing past me, when I suddenly hear a voice say, "Here! Come with me!" I turn to see an Asian face of a woman I recognize but cannot place. Her face looks so familiar but I can't place her. She is holding a .45 loosely and is running in the direction of the bridge. I hesitate for a second and then grab the gun from her in a panic.
What happens next caused me to jolt awake in a cold sweat.....
I point the gun at her. She cringes as I shoot. The bullet hits her someplace, evident in her violent recoil. I fire again and again, panicked and shaking, trying to kill her and confused because I cannot place this woman's face. My shaking causes the bullets to miss as she stands defiantly in front of me with a look of disgust on her face as if to say, "I try to help you and now you want to kill me." Then I wake up suddenly.
Where the hell did that come from? Not on my list of favorite dreams to wake up to, that is for sure.
-Jeeem-
Speaking of exaggerated size to self-esteem ratios.....
Biker weekend is coming up. Laconia hosts biker week every year and supposedly this is the 79th.....but who the hell is counting. This year 300,000 of these fine, upstanding citizens will flock to Laconia to show their tits and eat hotdogs hanging from a string and other, similarly talented events. The current rage in the biker news is the cancellation of the Hell's Angles concession permit for the event. Local small business owners a quibbling over the decision and it's getting a lot of media attention. Seems the Hell's Angles are taking the decision to Superior Court.
So why is this happening to such a fine motorcycle club? Well, the recent events in Laughlin, Nevada don't speak very well for this supposedly adult motorcycle "gang" of leather babies. Seems when they decide to kill off other rival "gangs" of leather babies, they end up endangering normal law abiding citizens who could probably care less if they all just went out in the desert somewhere and "offed" each other.
Personally, I have never cared for these leather wearing, tough acting, immature felons on wheels. Not to confuse a leather baby biker with a normal motorcycle riding citizen who abides by the laws and enjoys the freedom of riding on two wheels versus four. Nosiree! There is a difference. The leather babies are easy to spot in a crowd. They are usually lewd, crude and rude with a limited mental capacity and a limited vocabulary of "fuck, shit, beer, hog, bitch," likely repeated in any particular order of the same. They buy Easyrider magazine to look at the pictures cause they often can't read.
I was prompted to write this nasty little piece when, upon returning from Rite Aid, I looked down at my shopping bag that had fallen to the floor of my truck and when I looked up I saw a leather baby in my lane, heading directly at me. I swerved to miss him and the tough guy gave me the finger. Sorta made me wish I had hit him. He gave ME the finger when HE was in MY lane and I swerved to miss him! Go figure.
Hummm. Wonder what that would have been like? Ford F150 XLT Four-by-Four half ton truck versus leatherbaby bike. Hey, I'm insured.
-Jeeem-
Biker weekend is coming up. Laconia hosts biker week every year and supposedly this is the 79th.....but who the hell is counting. This year 300,000 of these fine, upstanding citizens will flock to Laconia to show their tits and eat hotdogs hanging from a string and other, similarly talented events. The current rage in the biker news is the cancellation of the Hell's Angles concession permit for the event. Local small business owners a quibbling over the decision and it's getting a lot of media attention. Seems the Hell's Angles are taking the decision to Superior Court.
So why is this happening to such a fine motorcycle club? Well, the recent events in Laughlin, Nevada don't speak very well for this supposedly adult motorcycle "gang" of leather babies. Seems when they decide to kill off other rival "gangs" of leather babies, they end up endangering normal law abiding citizens who could probably care less if they all just went out in the desert somewhere and "offed" each other.
Personally, I have never cared for these leather wearing, tough acting, immature felons on wheels. Not to confuse a leather baby biker with a normal motorcycle riding citizen who abides by the laws and enjoys the freedom of riding on two wheels versus four. Nosiree! There is a difference. The leather babies are easy to spot in a crowd. They are usually lewd, crude and rude with a limited mental capacity and a limited vocabulary of "fuck, shit, beer, hog, bitch," likely repeated in any particular order of the same. They buy Easyrider magazine to look at the pictures cause they often can't read.
I was prompted to write this nasty little piece when, upon returning from Rite Aid, I looked down at my shopping bag that had fallen to the floor of my truck and when I looked up I saw a leather baby in my lane, heading directly at me. I swerved to miss him and the tough guy gave me the finger. Sorta made me wish I had hit him. He gave ME the finger when HE was in MY lane and I swerved to miss him! Go figure.
Hummm. Wonder what that would have been like? Ford F150 XLT Four-by-Four half ton truck versus leatherbaby bike. Hey, I'm insured.
-Jeeem-
So I go to Rite Aid to get some souvenirs and cards for Eve and THIS is what pulls up next to me in the parking lot. Holy Toledo. I drive a four wheel drive truck, but this is ridiculous...ya need a step ladder to get into the thing. Then, as we all know, THIS is what climbs out of the monster vehicle.
A phenomena known as exaggerated size to self-esteem ratio.
-Jeeem-
A phenomena known as exaggerated size to self-esteem ratio.
-Jeeem-
Saturday, June 08, 2002
Quoted passages from the China Daily National English-Language Newspaper, dated Thursday, March 21, 2002:
(Page 3)
American gets warning for insulting woman (by Qin Chuan - China Daily staff)
"US citizen Mark Alan Forshee was given a legal warning by Shenzhen police for insulting a woman, Guo Shaofei, on a bus in Shenzhen on March 9."
"Forshee is a psychologist and is studying in Shenzhen for his thesis and research work."
"Police said on March 9, Forshee, holding a beer can in one hand, pulled Guo's shirt with one of his fingers to look at her breasts while on a bus in Shenzhen."
Insulting? Give me a break. They should have cut his balls off or something. Dumb ass!
All the while I was wondering why some of the Chinese people looked at me with disgust while I was in Beijing? Holy cow. A psychologist. Poor example of one if you ask me. Then, the article goes on to say:
"Afterwards, Forshee made an "apology" rather mockingly to the woman, who felt more indignant."
Well, they say you can't believe everything you read but this I believe. Probably some damn American kid with rich parents who never learned to appreciate the value of decent morals and values. Obviously can't handle his liquor either. God this pissed me off when I read this. I'd been in country for a total of two days when I read this. Hell, I'd have kicked him in the nuts myself. Dumb ass! They should have yanked his professional license....psychologist my ass.
-Jeeem-
Zebulon writes in reference of certain culture types: "long-hairs, skinheads, weirdos, sportswearers, foreigners, button-downs or professional types" Just reading that passage brought back the stanza:
Everyone gather round let me tell you all about it
You see I pulled into a drive-in and I found a place to park
We hopped into the backseat where it`s always nice and dark
We`re just about to move thinkin` "Bret, this is a breeze"
There`s a light in my eye and a guy says "Out of the car, long hair!"
Oowee--you`re coming with me
Said the local police
Your Mama Don`t Dance (excerpt) - Loggins and Messina -
So what's a sportswearer and a button-down Chris?
Your "nutter" pal, -Jeeem-
Everyone gather round let me tell you all about it
You see I pulled into a drive-in and I found a place to park
We hopped into the backseat where it`s always nice and dark
We`re just about to move thinkin` "Bret, this is a breeze"
There`s a light in my eye and a guy says "Out of the car, long hair!"
Oowee--you`re coming with me
Said the local police
Your Mama Don`t Dance (excerpt) - Loggins and Messina -
So what's a sportswearer and a button-down Chris?
Your "nutter" pal, -Jeeem-
Jeeem is Sick!
The Vernors never showed and the Vicks just left me smelling to high heaven. So, I was out from work yesterday and reluctantly made a visit to the "quake" as Eve, my African princess puts it. The "quake," it seems, is the African term for a GP or "General Practitioner." It is pronounced "qwak," which is our tongue-in-cheek term (spelled quack) for a physician who doesn't know his arse from an ant hole. Very interesting.
Anyway, I saw the same nurse practitioner that I saw last time, Carol is her name, and was placed on a fairly new antibiotic that supposedly does the trick in only five doses versus the typical thirty. It is called Zithromax. Sounds impressive anyway. Today, I am still coughing up some nasty stuff and wheezing to beat the band.
Yesterday, while home in the sick house, I contacted my African princess through ICQ and while chatting, I received a message called an "Unsupported Event Notification." This "event" turned out to be a PC to PC call and suddenly, I was listening to Eve's very interesting voice! Cool. I rummaged around for my speaker headphones and although I found them, Eve could not hear me for some reason.
We ended up chatting for quite a long period of time and I sent her an IM message commenting on her sexy, British sounding voice.....Ooooops! Eve's comment was, "LOL ....British....now that takes the bun!" Well, Bloody hell! I'm no pro at accents. It sounded British to me...but then again what do I know? Heck, I don't want to start some international event here.
"Takes the bun....." Interesting.
Eve claims she doesn't have an accent...that I'm probably the one with the accent. Hummm. Well, if we manage to figure out the PC to PC connection, using Net2phone then she will no doubt agree I have an accent. Perhaps Eve feels Afrikaans is the more pure form of language? I will admit that her pronunciation of words were a bit more clear than some of the American slang. Some of her terms baffled me though and when she was talking about putting rose petals in the champagne, it sounded like she was saying "Pickles," or "Pittles."
"We put the rose pittles in the champagne" .....now who the bloody hell has the accent? Come on Eve!
We chatted for better than an hour and it was such a delight to hear her voice. It was early afternoon here in the U.S. and well after midnight in Durban, South Africa. Eve told me some of her champagne stories and we laughed until I started up a coughing fit. She spoke of yeba mate, which is some form of tea I think, but so many of her terms are foreign to me.
Seems Johannesburg lacks a Hard Rock Cafe. Eve had never heard of the popular spot and I don't think she understood my obsession with collecting the tee-shirts from over the globe. It seems the only two HRC's in the continent of Africa are in Egypt, located in Cairo and Sharm el Sheikh. A far piece from the badlands of Durban. Oh well, Eve says she will show me the ropes in Johannesburg and I'll surely come home with some interesting souvenirs of my South African trip.
Thanks to my good friend Shirl in Michigan (land of the dreaded California Raisin lawn ornaments) for my nifty little tricks with HTML.....I am finding this a very fun venture to learn the coding but MAN does it get frustrating if you leave one little quotation out!
Well, enough rambling on here. I need to get moving and do the laundry ritual. I don't much feel like doing anything more than vegetating today as the green funk is in control of me body. Ah well, it could be worse. I could be drinking champagne in a relapse and choking on the rose pickles.
Cheers!
-Jeeem-
The Vernors never showed and the Vicks just left me smelling to high heaven. So, I was out from work yesterday and reluctantly made a visit to the "quake" as Eve, my African princess puts it. The "quake," it seems, is the African term for a GP or "General Practitioner." It is pronounced "qwak," which is our tongue-in-cheek term (spelled quack) for a physician who doesn't know his arse from an ant hole. Very interesting.
Anyway, I saw the same nurse practitioner that I saw last time, Carol is her name, and was placed on a fairly new antibiotic that supposedly does the trick in only five doses versus the typical thirty. It is called Zithromax. Sounds impressive anyway. Today, I am still coughing up some nasty stuff and wheezing to beat the band.
Yesterday, while home in the sick house, I contacted my African princess through ICQ and while chatting, I received a message called an "Unsupported Event Notification." This "event" turned out to be a PC to PC call and suddenly, I was listening to Eve's very interesting voice! Cool. I rummaged around for my speaker headphones and although I found them, Eve could not hear me for some reason.
We ended up chatting for quite a long period of time and I sent her an IM message commenting on her sexy, British sounding voice.....Ooooops! Eve's comment was, "LOL ....British....now that takes the bun!" Well, Bloody hell! I'm no pro at accents. It sounded British to me...but then again what do I know? Heck, I don't want to start some international event here.
"Takes the bun....." Interesting.
Eve claims she doesn't have an accent...that I'm probably the one with the accent. Hummm. Well, if we manage to figure out the PC to PC connection, using Net2phone then she will no doubt agree I have an accent. Perhaps Eve feels Afrikaans is the more pure form of language? I will admit that her pronunciation of words were a bit more clear than some of the American slang. Some of her terms baffled me though and when she was talking about putting rose petals in the champagne, it sounded like she was saying "Pickles," or "Pittles."
"We put the rose pittles in the champagne" .....now who the bloody hell has the accent? Come on Eve!
We chatted for better than an hour and it was such a delight to hear her voice. It was early afternoon here in the U.S. and well after midnight in Durban, South Africa. Eve told me some of her champagne stories and we laughed until I started up a coughing fit. She spoke of yeba mate, which is some form of tea I think, but so many of her terms are foreign to me.
Seems Johannesburg lacks a Hard Rock Cafe. Eve had never heard of the popular spot and I don't think she understood my obsession with collecting the tee-shirts from over the globe. It seems the only two HRC's in the continent of Africa are in Egypt, located in Cairo and Sharm el Sheikh. A far piece from the badlands of Durban. Oh well, Eve says she will show me the ropes in Johannesburg and I'll surely come home with some interesting souvenirs of my South African trip.
Thanks to my good friend Shirl in Michigan (land of the dreaded California Raisin lawn ornaments) for my nifty little tricks with HTML.....I am finding this a very fun venture to learn the coding but MAN does it get frustrating if you leave one little quotation out!
Well, enough rambling on here. I need to get moving and do the laundry ritual. I don't much feel like doing anything more than vegetating today as the green funk is in control of me body. Ah well, it could be worse. I could be drinking champagne in a relapse and choking on the rose pickles.
Cheers!
-Jeeem-
Tuesday, June 04, 2002
I am the proud recipient of an African princess! Whoa! Coooool.
Newest news on the rural front is my research project is almost complete and is currently being yanked out of the procrastination phase and into the, "YOU-BETTER-GET-THIS-DONE-QUICK-BECAUSE-IT-IS-DUE-SOON" phase.
My partner in crime who lives in Michigan has admitted to girlscout carnage.
I am still sick with remnants of sputum-turned-green phlegm bits and labored breathing (have another cigarette Jeeem).
It is official.....I killed another lawnmower.
Life is good.
-Jeeem-
Newest news on the rural front is my research project is almost complete and is currently being yanked out of the procrastination phase and into the, "YOU-BETTER-GET-THIS-DONE-QUICK-BECAUSE-IT-IS-DUE-SOON" phase.
My partner in crime who lives in Michigan has admitted to girlscout carnage.
I am still sick with remnants of sputum-turned-green phlegm bits and labored breathing (have another cigarette Jeeem).
It is official.....I killed another lawnmower.
Life is good.
-Jeeem-
Monday, June 03, 2002
Pennies from heaven in Maryland and a trail of money in Kuala Lumpur.....*sigh* Mark and Charmaine are all the wealthier for it, meanwhile I trudge on to work today, the sky free of falling coins and the ground barren of currency covering my path. -Jeeem-
Chris from Blacktelescope.co.uk, aka Zebulon Mysterioso, aka Prof. Bernard Quatermass has finally surfaced again....This time to tell me sumthin I already know (but most everyone else doesn't) that I am nuts. Or, "A Complete Nutter," as the Scottish would have it. Nutter...hum, I like that. Matter of fact, I like european slang much better than our own.
"Bloody hell you do!"
"Ai's rite mate! An ef ya don like it, yeh can go feck yourself!"
Oh God. Now Peter's gonna read this and tell me I've mixed in a Lancashire accent, some Dutch and perhaps a sprinkle of Aussie or sumthin. Oh well. I still like the terms they use and I love that accent.
Well, if Chris thinks this stuff is nutter, he'll have a field day with the recent story I submitted to Banshee Studios for possible publication in their Lughnasahd issue short story contest coming this August. I submitted a short story written eons ago called, "Poor Mr. Ports." It's a story about my neighbor who commited suicide. It's a little, "OUT THERE," but I figured I'd give that one a try before resorting to my big guns. I'm currently looking for a market for big guns. If Banshee doesn't print the thing, I'll cut and paste it somewhere out in cyberville for all to join in on the, "Jeeem's a complete NUTTER," bandwagon.
Grit magazine finally sent back my story, "Gertrude the Duck," after keeping it well over two years. I would NOT recommend them for submission. I placed telephone calls to their Topeka, Kansas editorial department on at least six occasions and even followed through with photos, only to be led on time and time again. These were not "toll free" calls either! I was told, "Your story is on the editors desk" "We have a backlog" and other stalls, until finally I received the story back with an apology for keeping it so long. Hell, a rejection would have been better. Ah well, live and learn.
So, time to turn in for the night and let the keyboard cool down....a workday tomorrow. Welcome back Chris!
-Jeeem-
"Bloody hell you do!"
"Ai's rite mate! An ef ya don like it, yeh can go feck yourself!"
Oh God. Now Peter's gonna read this and tell me I've mixed in a Lancashire accent, some Dutch and perhaps a sprinkle of Aussie or sumthin. Oh well. I still like the terms they use and I love that accent.
Well, if Chris thinks this stuff is nutter, he'll have a field day with the recent story I submitted to Banshee Studios for possible publication in their Lughnasahd issue short story contest coming this August. I submitted a short story written eons ago called, "Poor Mr. Ports." It's a story about my neighbor who commited suicide. It's a little, "OUT THERE," but I figured I'd give that one a try before resorting to my big guns. I'm currently looking for a market for big guns. If Banshee doesn't print the thing, I'll cut and paste it somewhere out in cyberville for all to join in on the, "Jeeem's a complete NUTTER," bandwagon.
Grit magazine finally sent back my story, "Gertrude the Duck," after keeping it well over two years. I would NOT recommend them for submission. I placed telephone calls to their Topeka, Kansas editorial department on at least six occasions and even followed through with photos, only to be led on time and time again. These were not "toll free" calls either! I was told, "Your story is on the editors desk" "We have a backlog" and other stalls, until finally I received the story back with an apology for keeping it so long. Hell, a rejection would have been better. Ah well, live and learn.
So, time to turn in for the night and let the keyboard cool down....a workday tomorrow. Welcome back Chris!
-Jeeem-
Located just a stones throw off the north end of the traffic circle on Rt. 25 heading out of Plymouth is the fairly new, East & North Chinese Restaurant, formerly the Tenney Mountain Steak House. Louie and I arrived at about 11:50 a.m. and didn't have to fight for a table. Only one other couple were seated when we arrived and we were ushered to our table over looking the mountain ranges to the north of Plymouth. Louie was seated in Rumney and I in Plymouth. Louie swears his meal was better in Rumney and offered for me to join him there some day.
A bit confused are you? Well, don't be, for this restaurant is sitting right on the town line of both Plymouth and Rumney. Louie and I had the great fortune to be able to sit at a table which straddled the line. We were quickly waited upon by a young Chinese waiter wearing a black vest and pants. He poured tea for us and served us some water as we perused the menu. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Typical Chinese restaurant but lacking in the decor. Mandarin music was playing in the background all while we dined and the view of the mountains was beautiful.
I ordered the pork egg foo yung with house rice and house chicken wings. Louie ordered the Triple Delight with house rice and an egg roll. I should have ordered the Triple Delight. Triple delight is shrimp, scallop and vegetable in a white sauce, which looked delicious.....but then Louie was enjoying it from the much preferred Rumney side. I don't like change much, so I stuck with the egg foo yung, which proved to be okay but the gravy was less than I expected. They could learn a thing or two from China Garden in Bristol. The whole meal had a strong overtone of curry. Louie though it was five spice. Louie loved his Triple Delight and he didn't seem to skimp when it came to the egg roll either as one minute the egg roll was there and the next moment it was gonzo. The tea was ....tea. I ordered a Pepsi and it came out in a red dragon highball glass with a colorful umbrella on the straw and a little plastic monkey hanging on the edge of the glass. I was impressed.
With the bill came the complimentary Chinese Fortune Cookie. My fortune was as follows:
"You have a potential urge and the ability for accomplishment."
It is standard custom to always end these fortunes with, "IN BED," always making for a good laugh...HOWEVER, this is not cool with two guys.......
A potential urge.....hummm, like I gotta put something into it? Forget that.
Overall cost of the meal? Affordable, twenty bucks including the tip. I'd recommend it if you were starving to death and couldn't make it to Steve's Restaurant, which is another two or three miles up the road.
The Jeeem & Louie rating scale for this restaurant is a ****four star rating out of a possible ten stars. Last weeks review would have been a **two star rating for the Weirs Beach Smokehouse / Biker Hovel.
So, this ends another exciting restaurant review with Jeeem & Louie. Stay tuned as they explore New Hampshire's cheap-ass restaurants, coupons, senior citizen discounts and specials in hand! See ya next time!
Sunday, June 02, 2002
Louie will be showing up soon and we will head out for lunch. I'm thinking Plymouth / Rumney area instead of the more populated city areas of Meredith and Laconia. My restaurant review should be posted by tomorrow at the latest.
Went through my usual Sunday ritual this morning.....pick up laundry, catch up on gossip, come home. I don't get out much so I rely on the small town gossip as a minor form of entertainment. Seems my gas powered acquaintance across the street, Bill and his revving chainsaw, got locked up recently for harassment. Welcome to a small New England community Bill...they don't do things here like they do in the West. I figured something was up cause he hasn't been around much in the past few days.
Joyce at the laundromat was accused of sleeping with another man but confirms it isn't her but someone who shares her namesake. Alice is drinking again and unhappy with her relationship. The flatlanders are flocking into the town now and one recently got tossed out on his duff when he chanced an argument with the indomitable Joyce, over a stained comforter. Seems I've been missing a lot lately.
Well I shall close for now as I have the serious business of a restaurant review to take on. Until later....-Jeeem-
Went through my usual Sunday ritual this morning.....pick up laundry, catch up on gossip, come home. I don't get out much so I rely on the small town gossip as a minor form of entertainment. Seems my gas powered acquaintance across the street, Bill and his revving chainsaw, got locked up recently for harassment. Welcome to a small New England community Bill...they don't do things here like they do in the West. I figured something was up cause he hasn't been around much in the past few days.
Joyce at the laundromat was accused of sleeping with another man but confirms it isn't her but someone who shares her namesake. Alice is drinking again and unhappy with her relationship. The flatlanders are flocking into the town now and one recently got tossed out on his duff when he chanced an argument with the indomitable Joyce, over a stained comforter. Seems I've been missing a lot lately.
Well I shall close for now as I have the serious business of a restaurant review to take on. Until later....-Jeeem-
A braai or braaivleis is a miniature version of a barn fire.
Braai is the Afrikaans word for burnt
Vleis is the Afrikaans word for meat
Boerewors:
Boere: afrikaans for farmer (The english refer to the dutchmen or harsh afrikaans people as boere, and what they actually mean is bastards)
wors: afrikaans for sausage ( it is a long sausage consisting of minced meat and mixed spices.....very tasty.
Eve and I stand around the braaivleis warming ourselves while chatting, braaing our meat. We eat it as it is done acompanied with salads and bread rolls.
I love this stuff....why o why didn't I decide to begin traveling earlier in life? I can't wait to experience South Africa and eat some bastard sausage while the damn barn is burning down.
-Jeeem-
Braai is the Afrikaans word for burnt
Vleis is the Afrikaans word for meat
Boerewors:
Boere: afrikaans for farmer (The english refer to the dutchmen or harsh afrikaans people as boere, and what they actually mean is bastards)
wors: afrikaans for sausage ( it is a long sausage consisting of minced meat and mixed spices.....very tasty.
Eve and I stand around the braaivleis warming ourselves while chatting, braaing our meat. We eat it as it is done acompanied with salads and bread rolls.
I love this stuff....why o why didn't I decide to begin traveling earlier in life? I can't wait to experience South Africa and eat some bastard sausage while the damn barn is burning down.
-Jeeem-
I just returned from Cricenti's and the typical mystery has occurred....
THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING ITEM
This always happens. I get home and it dawns on me that I'm missing an item. This time it is a tomato. That's it, one tomato. It's never a BIG item, it's always some little annoying item that is never worth getting back into my vehicle and returning to the store. I just couldn't imagine it....
"Uhhh, excuse me. I'm missing my tomato."
"What?
"My tomato. I got home and it's not in the bag."
"Oh, hold on."
"PRODUCE MANAGER! ISLE ONE."
(Jim slinks into himself, trying to disappear) You see, I live in a very small town and someone who goes all the way back to the grocery store for a missing tomato is right up there with a house fire. So, to save having my name on the front page of the local paper....
LOCAL MAN RETURNS, LOOKING FOR LOST TOMATO
I decided to let it go.
-Jeeem-
THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING ITEM
This always happens. I get home and it dawns on me that I'm missing an item. This time it is a tomato. That's it, one tomato. It's never a BIG item, it's always some little annoying item that is never worth getting back into my vehicle and returning to the store. I just couldn't imagine it....
"Uhhh, excuse me. I'm missing my tomato."
"What?
"My tomato. I got home and it's not in the bag."
"Oh, hold on."
"PRODUCE MANAGER! ISLE ONE."
(Jim slinks into himself, trying to disappear) You see, I live in a very small town and someone who goes all the way back to the grocery store for a missing tomato is right up there with a house fire. So, to save having my name on the front page of the local paper....
LOCAL MAN RETURNS, LOOKING FOR LOST TOMATO
I decided to let it go.
-Jeeem-
According to the Polyphasic Sleep Experiment (aka. Uberman sleep), caffeine messes with polyphasic sleep. Ya learn something every day. Think I'll go have a Jolt soda. -Jeeem-
Saturday, June 01, 2002
Eve's Blogger is up to some tricks with dates, so we really don't know when her posts were made.....but anyway, supposedly yesterday she offers up a link for all interested to, "Visit South Africa," and once you arrive at the iafrica.com website, you are faced with this headline.....
HANSIE CRONJE DIES IN PLANE CRASH
Hummm. Subliminal message there? Jeeez Eve!
Is it just me, or are a lot of planes crashing lately? Funny how you notice stuff like that after traveling a bit. I happened to notice the three major airline crashes in Hong Kong and China just months after having flown to Beijing, China. I suppose if your ticket is up, you're gonna go....one way or another. I don't wanna go that way though! Can I put in my request for a very silent, easy and quick death while making love? Ha! What a way to go!
Well, speaking of sex.....er, genitals.....er, uh, .....tampons. Was I speaking of tampons? Well, anyways.....while surfing a bit further on the iafrica.com site, I wandered into a page on health and fitness. It amazes me, the question and answer series on some websites. The things people ask and the answers these people get....kinda reminds me of Ann Landers. Remember her? Well, anyway....it goes like this:
Question
Is it possible to get a tampon stuck inside? After using the new compact tampon in a hurry, I'm not sure if I took the first one. This happened a few nights ago.
Answer
Yes it is, and if it is stuck inside it is very important to get it removed.
Oh my God. No shit Sherlock. My God...I wonder what that person is paid. That's the job I need. A columnist in an international rag, answering questions about....hummmm, ahhhh......TRAVEL! That's it! It could go like this:
Question
I want to travel to Borneo, what should I do?
Answer
Buy a ticket and go.
I'd make millions and I'd be able to hop a plane whenever I want and visit all my blogger friends. What do you think? What would my title be? "Ask Jeeem, the Travel Guy"
I think I've had too much coffee again. Speaking of which, remember the tea I brought back from China? Well, for those of you who are not sitting in front of your computers waiting for my next post and watching my silly weather map, I brought back two types of tea from Beijing. One was Emperor's tea....reputed to be the only type of tea served to some such emperor of some such dynasty. The other was the very popular Longjing tea. I gave the emperor's tea to my friend and colleague, Susan Conboy. The other I kept for myself. Neither Susan or myself can stomach the stuff. It's not so much the taste, it's the caffeine content. The stuff is lethal. I've read countless books about the English and Irish and their love for tea and now I finally understand.
They are all addicted.
-Jeeem-
HANSIE CRONJE DIES IN PLANE CRASH
Hummm. Subliminal message there? Jeeez Eve!
Is it just me, or are a lot of planes crashing lately? Funny how you notice stuff like that after traveling a bit. I happened to notice the three major airline crashes in Hong Kong and China just months after having flown to Beijing, China. I suppose if your ticket is up, you're gonna go....one way or another. I don't wanna go that way though! Can I put in my request for a very silent, easy and quick death while making love? Ha! What a way to go!
Well, speaking of sex.....er, genitals.....er, uh, .....tampons. Was I speaking of tampons? Well, anyways.....while surfing a bit further on the iafrica.com site, I wandered into a page on health and fitness. It amazes me, the question and answer series on some websites. The things people ask and the answers these people get....kinda reminds me of Ann Landers. Remember her? Well, anyway....it goes like this:
Question
Is it possible to get a tampon stuck inside? After using the new compact tampon in a hurry, I'm not sure if I took the first one. This happened a few nights ago.
Answer
Yes it is, and if it is stuck inside it is very important to get it removed.
Oh my God. No shit Sherlock. My God...I wonder what that person is paid. That's the job I need. A columnist in an international rag, answering questions about....hummmm, ahhhh......TRAVEL! That's it! It could go like this:
Question
I want to travel to Borneo, what should I do?
Answer
Buy a ticket and go.
I'd make millions and I'd be able to hop a plane whenever I want and visit all my blogger friends. What do you think? What would my title be? "Ask Jeeem, the Travel Guy"
I think I've had too much coffee again. Speaking of which, remember the tea I brought back from China? Well, for those of you who are not sitting in front of your computers waiting for my next post and watching my silly weather map, I brought back two types of tea from Beijing. One was Emperor's tea....reputed to be the only type of tea served to some such emperor of some such dynasty. The other was the very popular Longjing tea. I gave the emperor's tea to my friend and colleague, Susan Conboy. The other I kept for myself. Neither Susan or myself can stomach the stuff. It's not so much the taste, it's the caffeine content. The stuff is lethal. I've read countless books about the English and Irish and their love for tea and now I finally understand.
They are all addicted.
-Jeeem-
Well I'll be damned....I didn't know the darn map would change every day when I put it on my blog! So, now I guess I've got a up-to-date weather window for all to see what is happening in the U.S., Canada and Mexico. Cool. We're supposed to get more thunder boomers this afternoon so keep an eye on it....I know you will...cause without a doubt, all of you are just sitting there, in front of your computers, waiting to see my weather map change! -Jeeem-
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