Subdivided We Stand Meets Marathon Man

Did You Have A Good Time?

I hope the person or persons who used my VISA card to charge a couple nights' hotel stay in New Orleans had a very good time.  I must have missed the call inviting me to tag along, but I was busy anyway.

No More T&A For You or Me?

Pittsburghers -- remember "Officer Bob?"  For those who don't, or for you out-of-towners, Officer Bob was the star of a series of tv commercials (which may or may not have ever actually aired, I can't remember) designed to convince young adults to remain in Pittsburgh.  The idea was that Officer Bob hid behind bushes and ambushed anyone under the age of 90 who was attempting to leave town.

Eventually, Officer Bob was replaced by a 36-word branding message that included phrases like "rivers of steel" and "free sex."

Today, I'm proposing that we put Officer Bob back on the job -- because, my dear friends and fellow Pittsburghians, the other 50% of two of the most charming and fascinating individuals ever to emerge from Pittsburgh's tri-state area is considering joining his alter-ego in Florida.

Yes, friends, Anthony is considering joining Tunesmith in The Sunshine State.

We here at SWSMMM strenuosly object to such a move, and in fact are considering self-immolation if such a tragedy comes to pass.

Herewith, then, some statistics related to this potential disaster:

Who is most likely to miss Anthony?

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How best can Anthony and his belongings be moved to Fla?

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Most dramatic effect of Anthony's departure

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Potential upside of an Anthony-free Pittsburgh

Come In To My Parlor, Said The Spider To The Fly

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I'm tired of the stories that you always tell
Shakespeare couldn't tell a story that well
You're the largest liar that was ever created
You and Pinnocio are probably related

That's a Lie....Hey, that's me playing harmonica
You're a liar...Yeah, and I wrote this song too
Lie, Lie, Lie, That's a Lie...Really I did, LL Cool Jay was over my house
You're a liar...He heard me humming it. He said "Hey, that sounds good!"

You lie about the things you've lied about
You even lied to your aunt when you went down South
You lied and a bodybuilder kicked your butt
If you was in Egypt, you'd lie to King Tut

That's a Lie...Just one glass of wine with dinner, officer
You're a liar...Ahh, L.A., what a great place
Lie, Lie, Lie, That's a Lie...No mom, I'm not on drugs
You're a liar....Of course I love you

My father said now son never tattle, never lie
But I think he should have followed some of his own advice,
I thought I'd own the world when I turned 21
Well, that's the last line 'cause now the song is done

That's a Lie...Overbudget? Us??!
You're a liar...Hey, we should have lunch!
Lie, Lie, Lie, That's a Lie...It won't hurt, believe me
You're a liar...I won't *** in your *****
That's a Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie!
Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie!
Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie!
Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie, Lie!
That's a Lie.......

Too Much Joy

Happy Birthday Kate

Wow...two years old....

Like her daddy, Kate prefers the warm sound of vinyl records over the cold sterile sound of digital formats... ar ar ar.

Also, and it's barely worth mentioning, but since today is Kate's second birthday, that means it's also two years minus one day since my little ol' heart attack.  Vasospasm forever!

Food, Glorious Food

 

...and Balloon Man Blew Up In My Hand

Just a quickie today, while I work at the conference...

Went (alone) to see Robyn Hitchcock at a local club on Tuesday night.  Great show, made even better by the presence of Peter Buck (from R.E.M.) on guitar.  The club itself was decent -- a nice set-up a show of that size.  Made me nostalgic for Graffiti, though, which remains the best venue of that size that I've ever entered -- and I've been in some of the notables, from NY to L.A. and now San Francisco.  (As a side note, the venue's Web site says the club is owned by Boz Skaggs.  Lido....whoa-oh-oh-oh-a-oh!  Skagg's "Silk Degrees" remains one of my favorite albums, although I'll bet I haven't listened to it in over a decade -- a situation which will need to be rectified shortly after I return home.)

I couldn't quite tell, but from where I stood it looked like Buck was wearing lipstick and blue eyeshadow.  Combined with the two gold hoop earrings he was sporting, the end result looked a little bit like when Eric Idle used to dress up in drag on Monty Python.  Actually, Buck now also bears a slight resemblance to Joe Grushecky -- so a couple of times the thought of Joey G. in drag crossed my mind, for which I need some serious mind-bleach.

When I stepped out of my room this morning and picked up the complimentary USA Hooray on my doorstep, and then see the news that Vonnegut has died, the first thing I think of is yellojkt.  As I expected, there's a lovely Vonnegut tribute at yellojkt's site -- please give a look.

(Oh yes -- my luggage finally showed up.  I can spend the last two days in style!  But why, please tell me, did the hotel feel compelled to call me at 1:50 a.m. to tell me that it was here?  It could've waited until the morning....)

UPDATE:
Pittsburgh Brewing needs cash to purchase raw ingredients.  Who knew that the pee of a thousand homeless guys was so expensive?

I Left My Pants in San Francisco

"What goes to Vegas stays in Vegas," or so the ad slogan almost goes.  Unfortunately, that misstatement currently applies to my pants -- as well as the rest of my luggage.

Yours truly has been in The City By the Bay, The City Built on Rock and Roll now for a grand total of 71 hours, and with the exception of the last 45 minutes, every single one of those hours was spent in the same pair of socks. 

Oh, no, wait, I don't sleep in my socks -- so I guess I've spent...aww, screw it, I'm not doing the math.  Suffice it to say that I've worn the same socks now for close to four days.

As of this moment, US Airways still has no idea where my luggage is.  (Update -- it's now 12 hours after I began this post, and still no sign of my luggage.)  The plane that I took from Pittsburgh to Phoenix was headed to Vegas, so it's my guess that my pants are currently somewhere in the vicinity of Wayne Newton. 

I did manage to have the presence of mind to buy some underwear the other day, and some toiletries -- unfortunately, I didn't think to get any socks.  Hence my current foot-stink.  But I have a question for you, and it's this -- why can I not buy underwear without being made to feel as though I'm buying gay porn?  Why must every bulging package of men's drawers have a close-up of some male model's bulging package?

I appreciate that the fine folks at the Calvin Klein corporation want me to get an idea of what the underwear will look at in action, but must they photograph them in a way that makes me feel so...I dunno...actually, I think this conversation should be abandoned immediately.

Other than the luggage thing, it's been a good trip so far.  I spent my Sunday afternoon in the Haight, where I fit in approximately, oh, not at all, and then Sunday night in the Castro where I fit in far, far less.  Big fun in both places, actually. 

I've been buying clothes as I need them, primarily at the nearby Old Navy since everything else in this city would burn through my $250 allowance from USAirways with one small purchase.  So the end result is that I'll go home with $250 worth of Old Navy rags, which in typical Old Navy fashion will be worthless after about three washings.  Old Navy stuff isn't really clothing so much as it is a series of random pieces of similarly-colored thread which happen to be occupying a shirt-shaped area for a few days.

Not much else to report yet.  A female co-worker and I found ourselves without dinner plans last night, so we took a walk to Chinatown -- fully aware of how "coupled" we looked.  That "coupled" look got even worse when the restaurant we selected chose to seat us at a cozy little romantic booth where we had no choice but to sit side-by-side.  We sat there and hoped against hope that none of our co-workers would see us, since it would've looked pretty darn scandalous if they had.  Especially after we ordered a bottle of wine. 

The meeting is going pretty well so far.  We actually recruited a couple of our grad-student members to blog the meeting, and the results have been pretty interesting.  Although I doubt that many of you will be interested, it's here if you want to take a look.  I did contribute one short entry -- it's the third from the bottom.

Keep Me Searchin' For a Harvest Gold

I'm a little short on time and light on topics this week -- so here's a fun email I received yesterday in response to my June 2, 2006 post regarding my dad's 70's Kitchen.

Dear Bob,

I want to thank you for coming to my rescue today with the picture of your Harvest Gold refrigerator from the 70’s. My wife and I live in a 1960 National Homes prefab home in Terre Haute, Indiana and while the outside windows are no longer aluminum and glass anymore, the insides have remained virtually the same since the foundation was poured. It started off with some vintage 50’s and 60’s ad’s for Morton’s salt. Then some ‘retro’ salt and pepper shakers, drinking cups, silverware (of a fashion) and chrome sided yellow kitchen table with matching plastic coated yellow bent tube chairs.

The cabinets, while original and steel, are painted in multiple shades of a dull, dusty white paint applied many years ago and now covered with layers of cooking residue and age. Then it hit me.

We need to repaint them!

But what color. Avocado green? Harvest Gold? Those seem to be the only colors I remember from that period. Unfortunately, it’s hard to walk into Lowe’s or Menard’s of True Value and say, “I want a can of paint – harvest gold – like from when I was a kid.”

You can almost see the clerks eyes glaze over.

So, tonight… with Google image scan guiding my way – there you were. Smiling that same smile I smiled in my own mom and dad’s kitchen in 1974 when I graduated high school thinking I knew all the answers when in fact I didn’t have a clue even what the questions were. But it didn’t matter then. I had polyester shirts and double knit pants and disco wasn’t far away. Sigh.

So, Bob, thank you for taking to time to put out here in cyberspace a virtual national treasure – a landmark as worthy as any Mt. Rushmore or Grand Canyon or pet rock that by it’s very presence evokes memories of sideburns, long hair, Emerson Lake and Palmer and a small car with a nice back seat – the Harvest Gold Refrigerator.

I start painting tomorrow… but first I’m going to scrub the cabinets down with some TSP – Tri-sodium phosphate cleaner – you remember phosphates don’t you? They were responsible for the slime almost taking over lake Erie and were banned in the 70’s.

Regards,
John

Another Season of (Yawn) Bucco Baseball

Let the sucking commence.

My prediction for the 2007 season?  A whopping 63 wins coupled with 99 losses.

Oh, sure, you could point out the addition of Adam LaRoche, and the effects of a full season of Freddy Sanchez and Ronnie Paulino, and the improvement of the starting pitching over the last half of the season, and the Bob Prince theory of hidden vigorish, but the fact of the matter is that this organization blows goats, and would prefer to continue blowing goats for profit over not blowing goats and possibly breaking the .500 mark.  Not one damn soul in that front office or on the field gives a rats arse about winning ball games.  The owners make a profit, and the players mark time in baseball Siberia until they're freed from their indentured servitude and can go play elsewhere.

All of which may be good news for area goats, but for those of us who prefer not to spend major league money on (at best) a triple-A product, we'll be staying home.

Last year marked the first year since 1969 that I did not attend at least one Pirate game.  During most of the intervening years, I'd say that I averaged between 15 and 20 games -- and in many of those years, I organized one or more group outings with upwards of 20 attendees.

Not no more, though.  If I get the urge to blow a big pile of money, I'll just take $100 and set it on fire in the backyard.  Not only will it be more entertaining than a Pirate game, the beer selection will be better.

All bets are off, however, if the Kellys (or any other out-of-town friends) come to town.  I enjoy showing off our beautiful ballpark to out-of-towners.  Too bad what goes on between the foul lines there is so dreadful.

The good news, though, is that if the Pens go deep into the playoffs, the Bucs will already be eliminated from playoff contention by the end of hockey season -- meaning that we can go straight from ignoring the Bucs due to hockey right into ignoring them because of Steelers mini camp. 

UPDATE:

Wow, great win last night!  I'm on the bandwagon!  Go Buccos.  Whoo!

The Bucs are goin'
all the way
all the way
all the way.
Yes the Bucs are goin'
all the way.
All the way this year!