Today my brother proposed to his girlfriend, Jessyka. I asked Jonah if I could note this glorious occasion on the old b-log (oh and she said "yes" by the way). Anyways, Jonah said yes for the toll of posting a picture of his child (by that I mean their cat SAW TOOTH) wearing a toupee. Hold your cat laughter please. I had the picture already to go, and for some reason it was improperly transferred to my computer. Wha wha wha, this is a bummer because nothing says hilarity like cat wearing a toupee. The picture will come soon. In the mean time a brief description so I'm partially sticking to my word.
Close your eyes, put on your favorite cat sweatshirt, an play your Cats soundtrack (preferably "memories...") Now comes the part of the blog where you get to imagine a cat photo..ready? Go:
Saw tooth who is an orange and white short haired cat, is wearing Jonah's freshly cut hair. It sounds disgusting when described as "freshly cut hair" and I apologize for putting you through that. For those of you unfamiliar with Jonah's hair, unlike my own, it's dark brown and curly. Orange short hair cat with curly dark brown toupee...
Now that the picture is out of the way, please take this moment to take out your champagne glass, turn off your Cats soundtrack (or leave it on, whatever) raise your virtual glass to Jonah and Jessyka. And now a message from your sponsor:
Dear Jonah and Jessyka, Congratulations on your new life endeavour. If you need me to dress up like the priest in ThePrincess Bride and conduct the ceremony, consider it done. I promise I will practice the voice everyday, all year! You know, "mow-ig is w-hot bwings us too-gever too-day." I promise I would practice the voice till sweet Alex says "NO MORE!" Dearest brother and future sister in law, if I had a loud speaker I would be chanting on the top of mount tabor with enthusiasm, "Jonah's getting married"(pronounced like "Jonah's getting marr- ied"). I would sing it in the tune of "Bubba burned the phone book." (Bubba is what we called our grandmother when we were kids. We chanted that little number at our Bubba, after she burned her phonebook instead of fire wood). Kind of like "cha cha cha cha cha (pause) cha".. oh wait I got it "it's amazing fruit, yeah. it's amazing fruit, yeah" (remember that commercial? Same tune). I guess what I'm getting at is, I love you guys, I'm so happy to welcome Jessica to our family (insert power word like "SHAZAM" or "BOOYA" now) you two are better then a million Saw Tooths wearing Jonah toupees! Love, Emily
I think this video is the bees knees. I think sometimes we all feel a bit like a giant smiley face surrounded by slow motion money, or driving a car. Your depiction of reality is uncanny. Thank you for this brilliance, you've done it again!
Yesterday when finishing a telephone conversation with my friend Jack, I accidentally said "have a good day Greg." Now before you start cursing your computer screen or calling me a dummy, please note the following:
1.Being a master of quick correction, I laughed and said even louder then the first goodbye "HAVE A GOOD DAY JACK!"
2. right before this name mistake, I had just finished telling Jack a story that involved the likes of a person named Greg.
3. Dear Jack,
if you are reading this I know who you are, and I apologize for the name swap. I think Jack is a fine name.. don't ever let anyone tell you other wise... not even me, when I call you Greg.
If you are still cursing your screen in name switch disgust, curse on while the story progresses to a baggo (the bean bag toss game also known by it's racy title "corn hole") game on 50th and Belmont circa 3:30 pm. So there I was recalling the name switch, Jack for Greg and all. It had occurred to me, and the people that I was with, Jack Greg was not such a bad name switch, and first name Jack last name Greg, was brilliant. In fact Jack Greg was a hero! In our best presidential candidate announcer meets action movie preview voice, Jack Greg progressed from a mistake to a deity (Imagine the deepest voice during the presidential elections "Sarah Palin, says she supports the wilderness, is shooting a wolf from a helicopter, supporting the wilderness? BARACK OBAMA FOR PRESIDENT"sort of like that). For effect, please read the following in your deepest announcer voice:
Jack Greg student body president.
Jack Greg MD.
Jack Greg motivational speaker.
Jack Greg Iron Chef.
... and the list goes on and on until eventually Jack Greg has a tv show, or is on cops, or wins the lottery or something. The list goes on and on till you can't do the deep announcer voice. The list goes on and on till you get to Zach Shack, and you're distracted by hot dogs and french fries.
In fifth grade Nancy Ingham (or Mrs. Ingham for those of you that are still stuck in fifth grade at Englewood Elementary... who happen to be reading this) so anyways Mrs. Ingham had each child in our class write a letter to a celebrity of our choice. Weird assignment, right? So everybody in the class is taking this opportunity to write a gushing letter of fan-dom to I don't know, Arnold Schwarzenegger, or whatever. To this they would receive a generic letter of appreciation from a fan club, and a glossy autographed head shot to boot.Call me dorky, or out of whack with 5Th grade pop culture in 1995, but I chose to write to none other then cello genius himself, Yo Yo Ma. My penmanship attempting its best rendition of delicate cursive was as followed (pretend the following is cursive..thanks):
Dear Yo-Yo Ma, I am a fifth grader at Englewood elementary School in Salem, Oregon. I wanted to write to you and tell you that your version of the Bach Cello suite #1 in G is my favorite one there is. I think you are the best. Sincerely, Emily Dart-McLean
Back in room 308, all the other kids are getting there Arnolds, Selvesters, and Julias, meanwhile back on 20Th street, a package arrives addressed to yours truly. Inside the package was an autograph...TAPE... of the Bach cello suite #1 in G (cue a power word like "SHIZAM" or "BOOYA"). The message on the tape in Yo-Yo's best penmanship cursive (again pretend the following is cursive, for full effect):
Dear Emily, Thank you for writing to me.Is this the song you were thinking of? Enjoy!
Sincerely, Yo-Yo Ma.
True story. I hope I run into Yo-Yo Ma someday so I can yell "YO-YO! HEY YO-YO!...REMEMBER ME?"
Ahem... cough cough. Tonight I went for a run. I figured Mount Tabor would be a nice cold terrain on a hot evening like this. I'm a person who gets a mean red face when I run in warm weather. By "mean" I'm talking about "whooo eeee...look at her! Are you ok?" When I say "Red," I'm referring to the color of a clown's wig (not to be confused with rosy, or blushing).
On the road up to the top, I noticed a group of teenagers smoking (gasp) in the bushes. I smugly thought to myself "that doesn't smell like cigarettes... Who do they think they're fooling. Certainly not me." I know I know, I sounded like a bad stereotype of bitter recess duty teacher, catching kids smoking on the playground. (Oh and by the way, I have never heard of that happening. Thus using my imagination to presume what would happen).
As I neared the top of Tabor, I could hear the sound of guitars, ukuleles, and laughter (not to mention a plethora of bongos). If you are familiar with MT. Tabor you know, when you get near the top, you can't see it. Then all of a sudden bam, you're on top of Portland (it's rather spectacular). So tonight, when I'm running to the tip top, and all of a sudden I'm about to summit (getting ready for my "PORTLAND")...HIPPIES!
I remembered an interaction I had earlier in the day. I had to sign for a package at work. When I couldn't think of the date the FEDx worker told me "huh huh, 4/20." Then it hit me, on the top of tabor, this was not a Phish themed barbecue. Oh no, these people are celebrating the date, the act, the tradition(?) of 4/20. These People were celebrating weed, pot, marijuana (what ever you kids call it these days). If you go to Mt tabor tonight, be prepared that the bong water is flowing more than the water.
As I made my first loop around the top, I heard so many variations of the word "Dude.": "Dude," "doooode," "DUDE?" "Hey dude!" "Dude, he's actually doing it!" (in reference to a dude long boarding down the hill, with his dog, and a joint).
When I arrived I felt the only thing I had in common, was my face matching the red on their tie-dye shirts. The second loop had me craving brownies, hot dogs, ice cream, and hummus(?) Thinking to myself; "some dude, should really paper mache an unusually large joint. They could place it right in the pointing fingers of Harvey Scott (the statue that points to the west on the top of the Mountian). Duuuude. Dooode." For some reason on the way home, I had to fight the urge to flip peace signs to everyone I passed. Dude!
When I was 19 years old I spent a month of my life working in Kodiak, Alaska. I will tell you right now that this is indeed a story about love. In order to get to the love part I will spare you the fish gutting, shower less, 16 hour work day cannery tales, and skip to the Anchorage airport where this story takes place. Unfortunately for me I was fated with an 8 hour delay the day I left Alaska. After about 3 hours of airport laps, I decided I had seen all the Alaska socks and "Some one in Alaska loves me" tee shirts I could stand. I made my move to the Horizon airline gate, where the rest of the story takes place. At the gate I was sitting in a nest of my things (by "nest" I mean my stuff strewn around my seat) reflecting on the past month. I was the only one at the gate at the moment, after an hour passengers slowly started to trickle in. One of the passengers was a little boy, 3 maybe 4 ish. Maybe it was my nest of bags, or the lack of beard I had (the beards flow like water in Alaska by the way) but for some reason this boy decided to chat with me (oh and by the way, he had parents with him, but they aren't important to the story). Ok, so skip the part where we say hello, and I make a joke about thinking he's 50 years old or something. Skip to the part where the little boy asks me "what my favorite holiday is." I tell him, "Thanksgiving, because I love to spend time with my family, and I love to eat" a friendly feel good answer. I find this conversation amusing after walking in the airport for 3 hours, so I retort the question "what's your favorite holiday?" Now this is the part of the story where this particular story pertains to this particular day. The little boy paused to think, then looked at me and said, "Valentine's Day, because Valentine's Day is the holiday of love, and I love to love."
Tonight we went to the Blazer game, compliments of our neighbor (ah thank you Galen). In case you missed it, they lost. Unlike the fair weather fans that rushed out of the arena when we were 10 points behind, with ten minutes to spare, we stayed till the bitter end. Yes the bitter end. Because guess what, we're all going to be stuck in traffic! Some highlights of the game: Highlight the first: when the women sitting next to us gave us a free slice of pizza. Highlight the second: when the guy sitting in front of me turned around and asked " excuse me, do you have any lotion I can have...because you're a girl" (the question only made sense when he clarified I was a girl. I for see a long line of do you have any ___ (fill in the blank with hilarious word) because you're a girl jokes. )
Highlight the third: When we tried to sneak into seats in a lower a section. The child sitting in front of us was wearing a jersey that read "Little Pat." He was probably 4, cute too. Little Pat started to flick Alex in the knee, only to turn to me, and put his hand out for a shake (hand shake not milk shake). "I'm Pat" Little pat said. "What's his name" Pat said pointing to Alex. He probably thought Alex was a Blazer or something. What a cute little dummy.
Last night, I guess early this morning, I woke up from a nightmare. I'm talking cold sweat, dead bodies, chasing... the works. I lay in bed (probably around 3am) thinking about what type of horrible Frankenstein-esque zombie vampire murder could be hiding in my closet. I was amazed that I did indeed manage to fall asleep to a rather pleasant and hilarious dream. Maybe it was the slight snore from Alex's sweet nose (yeah I said it), or perhaps the fact that subconsciously I was thinking about the pint of chocolate peanut butter ice cream I had purchased the prior night.
Flash to inside my brain circa 5am this morning (by that I mean my dreams, not my cerebral cortex) I'm in an ice parlor, but it's not your average ice cream parlor. When I walk to the register I pass the sundae bar (yes SUNDAE BAR) as I approach the counter, nope not your average ice cream parlor. So anyways at the counter, I sez to the to the ice cream boy (who yes happens to be wearing a paper cap and apron, and maybe just maybe red and white striped something) "One Sundae please!" Now in case you weren't with me excitement wise when I described my current destination, perk your ears for this:So the ice cream boys sez, he sez "this sundae is free!" Yes, that's right, free sundae, at the sundae parlor. Whoot! The Dream couldn't get any better. Next thing I know I'm slopping toppings (rhyme not intentional, then became completely intentional) all over my strawberry, chocolate, and jamocha almond fudge ice cream (isn't it weird how you just know flavors in your dreams). It was the works, cherries, whip cream, rainbow sprinkles, chocolate sprinkles, nuts, fudge, the works I tell you!