Bored? Check out "My Cat Hates You Dot.com" on the Weird Web links below for more entertaining pics like this one. -Jeeem-

I have neglected to post my experience of eating lunch with neighbor Louie....

Last Sunday we went to the Weirs Beach Smokehouse. Yuck. I have no experience as a restaurant or food critic, but the place reeked of biker hovel. The buffet lunch was a brunch of sorts with a combination of breakfast items, seafood Newburg and pasta shells. Yuck. I settled for the seafood, a couple of pasta shells and some rice and found the Newburg to be very salty, with bits of mussel shell to crunch on. Yuck.

I was polite and pretended to like it since it was Louie's idea and his turn to pay. Yuck. The highlight was a rather young, bold, green-eyed, attractive waitress who admitted to being hung over and was very friendly. The decor? Blah biker. I won't be returning to that place.

Stay tuned for my next review when I get to pick the restaurant.

-Jeeem- (The new restaurant critic in town....)

Bill is at it full bore now.....he has moved his land-raping device and is now scouring the earth, further defiling mother nature and creating more noise pollution than ever before. I am angry, yet I know I have no other recourse than to move. My land is surely devalued now that I live across the road from a junkyard and a section of raped earth, full of stacked tires, gas cans and other junk. He is attracting the jerk down the road now too. Noise makers tend to flock together, gravitating to each other so they can rev their engines and belch tons of oil smoke into the rural atmosphere. -Jeeem-

What a delightful conversation I just had with my good friend Eve Smith who lives in Durban, on the north coast of South Africa. We have so much fun together and she is such a delightful person inside and out. Eve refreshes my perspective on life and today, a rather drab, sickly day, was made brighter by her womanly touch. I have sidelined Eve as she finally got her blog going! It seems Eve is a night owl, keeping the oil lamp lit until early, early in the morning. She gives an interesting account of my name, from perhaps an Afrikaans perspective and comes up with the summation that my name is Zulu. Pronounced Jheimmm or some such thing....Ah well, I will forgive her then for her placing me in the unlikely neighborhood of Vancouver.....Canada perhaps?

I have thus decided that Durban will be my next conquest in travel. A mere 12,780.43 South African Rand.......pocket change! Ha! Eve possesses the remarkable ability of Ballroom and Latin American dancing and says she is going to teach me how. I can't wait as it has been a dream of mine for years to learn. We discuss many different things and it is refreshing to see her perspective on things, from say a different "cultural" twist, although Eve's thoughts and perceptions are not that different than my own. We have much uncharted ground to cover yet.....

"worked my way to the switch that adds sound to the place, then to the wc where I finally recovered on the loo, wondering what day it was" God how I love the sound of that...I can't wait to hear her accent. Accents are funny, they either turn me off totally or totally turn me on. Russian does NOTHING for me, nor does the German accent usually, depending on who is speaking it of course. Most of those are harsh. Austrians tend to soften the tone a bit and add that French twang to it. Or perhaps that is just my imagination. I was a radio operator for well over seventeen years and got used to the different accents, finally being able to tell where a person was from, just by their accent.

Paramaribo, Suriname was my favorite. I used to always speak with Suzie, 73-AT-103 (Ah sebenty treeee ah alpha tango ah one ah cero tree!) I always knew Suzy's sing-song accent the minute she came on. The dutch names were impossible to pronounce....kinda like names of towns in Wales....too many consonants or something.

Anyway, back to Eve....she has pulled me in totally with her story of the loo paper wad...kinda gave me an interesting visual. But, the story about the eggs.....

“ Do you have rubber chickens in the kitchen, or do your chickens mate rubber ducks?” Holy smokes! I thought I'd never stop laughing. I can tell Eve and I are gonna have a blast in South Africa....hell, they'll be talking about us for years to come in Johannesburg and Durbin. Did you know Johannesburg has a zoo? Somehow I can't see the need for a zoo in Africa........is it just me?

Gotta go to bed....a new day tomorrow. Perhaps in the morning I will attempt to recover on the LOO! -Jeeem-

Have you seen that new commercial touting the slowness of dial-up modems? I mean seriously! Can you imagine someone complaining, "Oh drat! My dial up modem took a whole fifteen seconds this morning!"

Get real!

-Jeeem-

Finally!!!

I gotta get me one of these!

A Sigmond Freud action figure!

-Jeeem-

Whew! I just got good news.....Shirl doesn't have a lawn ornament. She's got a "balcony" ornament though. Seems she has not fallen prey to the dreaded Michigan addiction that plagues a good part of the rest of the nation......Lawn Ornament Addiction. Be careful though Shirl! Balcony ornaments can be a symptom of worse things to come! -Jeeem-

Greetings! It's Sunday and I'm sick again. Yep, this time I've got an upper respiratory ailment. Wonderful. Just as well though, as my "neighbor" across the street is into some serious macho revving of the chainsaw lately. Bill is his name and junkyards are his game. He's got this big, rusty, piece-of-junk-called-a-backhoe parked on the piece of land he is molesting, cutting every tree in sight and working his way into the forest, up the hill behind my quiet neighbor's land. He shows up almost every day, parking in the street across from my humble abode and begins creating a terrible din of noise pollution with every imaginable piece of gas powered equipment he can get his hands on. Truly annoying.

I've been a good neighbor though, allowing him to use my hose to flush out a mouse who had nested in the radiator of his "piece-of-junk-called-a-backhoe." I even talked to him. I don't trust him though, as he is one of those "Flatlanders" who asks one-too-many questions. He's from the West like me. Funny though, as I can see how much I have changed, becoming a suspicious, callous New Englander, cautious to give too much information and staying to myself. Guess I'm a true New Englander now. Bill has shattered my peace and quiet you see.....him and the jerk down the road who buzzes by here on a day-to-day basis on his little gasoline powered toys. I think it is time to think about a move. I've got equity now....finally.

Enough bitching. I am advertising a new blog - webpage - ezine that I just stumbled across. Didn't even know it was there. Banshee Studios it is called and Caitlin is one of the editors. Cool site and nice works to read. Speaking of reading....

When I am at a loss of what to write, I read. This never fails to stimulate my neurons to begin firing again. Lately I've been reading, "Troublemaker and Other Saints," a collection of short stories by Christina Chiu a Chinese immigrant. I'm on a Chinese author kick now that I've returned from my two week jaunt in Beijing, China. I've also ordered, "Son's of Heaven: A Novel," by Terrence Cheng, which had the following review:

Anyone who has ever seen the photograph of a young Chinese man standing before a parade of moving tanks, waving his arms in the air as if he had the power to stop an army, has probably never forgotten it. Although the student uprising at Tiananmen Square in Beijing was 13 years ago, the photograph of the unidentified man standing before tons of rolling green steel in the name of democracy inspired Terrence Cheng to write this novel, which does not tout opposition to Chinese policies but, instead, captures the very human side of political turmoil and its inadvertent destruction of families. Writing from the perspective of the dissident student, his brother the soldier, and China's leader at the time, Cheng paints a tragic picture of what happens when brothers are caught at opposite ends of the spectrum in a place where clear-cut loyalties are not a choice but a requirement. Packed with emotion and desperation, Cheng's novel speaks for a man who needed a voice. Elsa Gaztambide
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

I can't wait to read that one. Amazon just makes it too damn easy with only a click here and a click there.....and it's on your doorstep. No wonder my finances are screwed up.

It's not just books I read that stimulate my writing, it's blogs too. Shirl (or somebody) got me to thinking about my Cub Scout days today......

When I was a young kid, joining the Cub Scouts was the thing to do. So, trying hard to not be any different than the other kids (even though I was), I joined. Well, unlike the other kids, I found that wearing a uniform was not my bag. I had no pride in it and was constantly being scolded for not wearing the uniform right, forgetting my scarf, unbuttoning too many buttons and not wearing my cap. Besides all that, I didn't seem to want to BE SQUARE and I certainly did not want to OBEY THE LAWS OF THE PACK.

I had to practically be seduced into going to my "pack meetings" and I hated my den mother. We got together and went over stupid rules, read boring crap from a boring manual and I cringed as other "cubs" were nominated for various awards of achievement and praised for their various promotions. I never got past the rank of bear nor did I care to. I didn't care to advance to the much coveted rank of Webelos. The wicked den mother's son was a Webelo. Nathan thought he was a hot shit too, not only because his mother was the den mother, but because he had achieved the coveted rank of Weblos. Big deal. I discovered that Webelos not only wobble but they fall down too.

One Friday afternoon my mother dropped me off at the pack meeting amidst my kicking and screaming protest. Once inside the "den" I was immediately humiliated because I was dressed in inappropriate attire for the field trip we had planned that I was supposed to have known about. They took me along anyway, partly because they couldn't reach my mother on the phone. We started out on a well-worn path at the foothills of Mount Franklin and quickly advanced to the less frequently traveled horse path into the depths of the mountain desert landscape.

I was actually having fun until Nathan decided to drop his Webloid-ass back a bit and continue to badger me about my attire.

I was a quiet kid, smaller in size but not in temperament, for in the back furrows of my mind I was fighting a battle of an alcoholic father, low self-esteem, physical abuse and lots of sleepless nights. All I usually needed was a little tormenting to throw me right over the edge and so Nathan obliged. I lurched along the trail, taking Nathan's onslaught, blow by agonizing blow until I had had enough. I honestly didn't know there was a cactus behind him.

I pushed him....HARD.

The field trip had to be cancelled that day because Nathan had to be taken to the hospital. It seems he landed smack dab into the middle of a prickly pear cactus, eighty percent of his body coming into contact with the spiny needles. His legs happened to find a Spanish dagger cactus, becoming impaled in three or four places. Aside from the obvious, the greatest worry for Nathan was the Spanish dagger, which at the time was reputed to be semi-poisonous. Served him right.

Needless to say, I was kicked out of Cub Scouts.....Permanently.

I was all of nine years old and already I had a reputation, which would prove as the years wore on to only get worse. I was the only kid at that time (in 1965) to get kicked out of Cub Scouts, as far as I knew.

I was happy on two counts. I never had to wear that stupid uniform again and I got even with that mealy mouthed milquetoast of a den mother's son.

Ah well, another sordid story in the Anderson files......

enjoy!

-Jeeem-

Oh boy....I think I killed another lawnmower. If so, this will be the fourth one in, HOW MANY YEARS? I just can't seem to take proper care of them. So, consequently, a quarter of my lawn looks fairly decent, the rest is approaching jungle stage.

Once, many years ago, while renting in a mobile home park, I came home to a note plastered on my door, which read, "Mow your lawn or we will charge you per day for poor appearance" or something to that effect. It was that very note that roused me into home ownership. From that day forward, I vowed to own my own property so that I could live any old way I wanted. Hell, I could let my lawn grow to nightmarish lengths and nobody could say anything.

So, now that I own my own home I have found that as lazy as I can be, my pride begins to edge into the limelight and I desire a well groomed lawn. So, herein begins a new battle of - THE LAWNMOWER WARS - Presently, I have a lawnmower graveyard out back. I'm wondering if I need to add another body to the pile.

My neighbor Louie and I have decided to ditch the breakfast routine for a while and begin the a lunch club. So, we're going out to lunch tomorrow and gonna try a new restaurant every week. This ought to prove interesting. We alternate on who pays the bill, one week me and the next week Louie. I'm glad we decided to have a change of venue as I was getting a bit tired of breakfast. Tomorrow? Chinese buffet in Laconia....cool. (It's his week...hee, hee).

My project today is working on the woodlot out back of my house. I have this new, tiny, battery operated chainsaw that is anything but macho. It's good for cutting limbs and heavy brush and the like. Which brings to mind a conversation I overheard the other day.....

A woman was talking about her husband using the chainsaw.... "He always thinks he has to REV the engine! You don't have to rev the engine, you just cut the wood and give it gas as it needs it. Men always feel they need to rev the engine..." Hummm. You know what? She's right. My neighbor across the street does it. I listened to him yesterday, revving the engine several times before actually cutting. Me? Well, it's hardly even worth it with my chainsaw. It's pretty hard to appear macho with a tiny chainsaw with a six inch bar. Oh well, I must be getting old.

I have a nesting pair of tufted titmice...or is it titmouse? Titmouses? Titmices? I think it is titmice. Anyway, they are a young, teenage couple. Spiked crests, small frames and very, very playful. They chase each other to and fro and use my yard (their yard) as a playground. So, added to my repertoire of yard animals are Bonnie & Clyde (the titmice) and Alvin (the chipmunk). Soon, without a doubt, will come the snakes, the grey squirrels, the brown squirrels, the hummingbirds and the occasional wild turkey or partridge. Daisy the Rotweiler next door doesn't count. -Jeeem-

First off, for those of you who are wondering.....I am feeling better. I made it to work today....almost went back home at one point, but finally made it through the day. Before I left work, I happened to pick up a newspaper and this is what I saw at the bottom of one of the back sections:

"MISSING CALIFORNIA RAISIN LAWN ORNAMENT RETURNED"

Lawn ornament?

This story (AP) was about a 250 pound California Raisin Lawn ornament that was stolen from a Greenville, Michigan FRONT YARD.

What the hell do people in Michigan decorate their yards with? Why..... two hundred and fifty pound raisins, of course!

Holy crap.

Lawn ornament addicts.

These people start out with pink flamingos and graduate to larger, more garish items. Here in New Hampshire we have the famous "Lawn Orb."

Lawn orbs are in the same category of flamingos but flamingos are kinda a warmer weather lawn ornament. Lawn orbs are a shiny, reflective, red, blue, yellow, green or other shiny metalic color and sit on a concrete or plastic pedestal. That's it. They claim they attract humming birds but I swear I've passed them numerous times and never seen a hummingbird within miles.

Lately, we've had an outbreak of fuzzy bear ornaments, Canadian geese ornaments, children standing in the corner ornaments, duck ornaments and the occasional lawn elf. Only the true lawn ornament addict buys them.

Do you have a neighbor who qualifies? Do them a favor. Get them help.

The woman whose lawn raisin was stolen said, "I'm just heartbroken over it."

Some kids found it in the parking lot of the school and returned it to the heartbroken couple Tuesday night.

Hell, you ask me....that's probably where it belongs.


-Jeeem-