Have a Sparky, Snarky Christmas
Lon Prater and Suzan L. Wiener at The Writers’ Ezine (Dec 05) have been kind enough to give us holiday gift ideas for the writer in your life. But ask yourself: does that writer really need much for Christmas? Take my advice and save your money. Limitless quiet time to write – that’s all he* wants for Christmas. Add in occasional reminders to bathe, eat, and take potty breaks, and you’ve given him more than he deserves.
Undoubtedly, you will see many such lists in the coming weeks. But who remembers the family of those lucky writers? Here at Balls and Walnuts, we do.
Don’t you love it when . . .
Netscape crashes, you haven’t saved your work, and you’re 3/4 of the way through your post?
Sorry, folks, but it’s 10:45 PM and I have to get up early for surgery tomorrow. My holiday gift extravaganza will have to wait another day.
D.
The marriage counsellor, Part 2
I have more funny business in store for you later this evening . . . so, Maureen? Chill.
Before I leave behind this discussion of love and marriage, I wanted to share with you a link I found several years ago. I found this two years ago and filed it away for my son (in an envelope labeled For Jacob, when he’s older). I’m not sure what mood possessed me at the time, but it must have been precious.
First, here’s the link:
Ten Terrifying Truths about Marriage by Dr. Michael Tobin
Rereading this, I see a few gems here, but what possessed me to print this out and stuff it in an envelope for my son, to be opened circa 2020? I don’t know. Maybe it’s not so crazy. Two items in particular stand out:
2. Try all you want — you’ll never change your partner. However, if you change yourself, your partner may change.
Very true, in my experience. (It’ll be a blast when Karen reads this. She’ll piss herself laughing: You’re kidding, right? When did you ever change?)
8. The greatest gift you can give your children is a loving marriage.
Hmm. I wouldn’t know this from firsthand experience, but I’m hoping my son will tell me one day if it’s true. Maybe that’s why I socked this list away.
Okay, enough with the serious stuff. Time to pull out the whoopee cushions.
D.
First love, forever love
Everyone knows Jewish men make the best lovers, but have you ever wondered why?
Just a little off the top, thanks
A few thoughts today on circumcision . . .
I’m plunging into the topic of male circumcision with more than a little bias. I like my pupik* the way it is, and I’m not about to change it by “foreskin restoration techniques,” non-surgical or otherwise. My defensive hackles are raised whenever I hear this sort of inflammatory rhetoric from the anti-circumcision faction:
Christmas is coming
Little rubber hats off to YesButNoButYes for finding this Ann Summers lingerie ad. (Borderline safe for work; not safe for anyone who gets her panties in a wad whenever the Christmas spirit is, um, sullied.)
Y’all make the funniest faces.
D.
Before the weather goes completely to hell
The sea was gorgeous this morning. The photo doesn’t do it justice.
All before noon, I have
- Washed, dried, and folded a load of laundry.
- Fixed some killer French toast — oops! — liberty toast for Karen. Recipe below.
- Fixed ham and eggs for my son.
- Macerated four cups of dried fruit in dark rum to make Alton Brown’s fruitcake recipe. I’ll let you know if it’s worth the effort.
- Done my grocery shopping for the weekend.
- Mailed off the mortgage check.
- Brined a few pork chops.
- Marinated chicken in onions, yogurt, salt, black pepper, cayenne, cumin, turmeric, and fenugreek.
- While she was showering, I watched my wife in a sweet, yet somehow creepy, stalkerish way.
Why do most restaurants screw up French toast? It’s not that tough. Slice French bread into four slices, each 3/4 inch to one inch thick. Put the slices into a one gallon ziplock bag in one layer.
Beat two to three eggs, 1/4 cup to 1/3 cup milk, a slosh of vanilla, a pinch of salt, and a shake of cinnamon. Pour this into your ziplock bag and roll it around to evenly distribute the liquid. Throw it into the fridge until you are ready to use it. (It will keep overnight. On weekends, I always make two days worth.)
Fry the bread in butter over medium heat. When the toast is crispy on both sides, slosh some maple syrup into the frying pan. The syrup will get very hot, will partially caramelize, and will coat the down-side of the toast. Pour everything out onto a plate.
As my son used to say when he was three, “Wallah!”
Now, if only I can
- Get some editing done.
D.
Maundering
- To talk incoherently or aimlessly.
- To move or act aimlessly or vaguely; wander.
At some point in my daily blogsurf, I found a place where the host features a word-of-the-day (or was it a word-of-the-week?) Hopefully, she’ll stop by, because I can’t remember how I found her.
As you all know, there are way too few blogs in the world, so I’ve been thinking about inaugurating another. More on that later.
You’ll notice a few changes around Shatter:
- New favorites! Yeah, I keep meaning to update these every week . . .
- Shameless self-promotion gives links to the two stories of mine that are available on the ‘net. They also happen to be two that I’m proud of, or at least, I don’t cringe when I reread them. “The Mechanic,” in particular, is worth a quick check.
- A new image for my better half’s occasional blog, Chelicera. I figure I’ve broken down Beth’s phobia enough to put up a really tiny and really, really cute REAL spider. Really!
- New meters for The Brakan Correspondent edit and my NaNoWriMo NiP, Get Well Soon.
- Linkage to new pal Blue Gal.
By the way: if you’d like me to link to you, drop me a line (a reply to this post will do).
I have blog envy. It’s the Type A in me. I’m envious of the group blogs that attract huge followings . . . I mean, look at Boing Boing. Why are they so popular? And why can’t I do the same thing?
We. Think Group. We.
If any of my regulars are interested in brainstorming this in email-space, please kick off a discussion in the comments, or just plain email me. I even thought up a great name for the blog:
What do you think? It has a mellifluous Crooks and Liars feel to it. (God and Consequences does too, but that one’s taken ;o) Naturally, once we all team up, we’ll choose a name all democratic-like.
As for theme . . . how about a political blog? I don’t see too many of those around. I think it may be an unfilled niche!
D.
The Ed Sullivan Show (with Jon Stewart)
Seems to me The Daily Show has been off its game* ever since Stephen Colbert fissioned off to form The Colbert Report. Jon Stewart is putting out his best effort . . . oh, boy, is he trying hard. Last night, he had on some indie duo, the White Stripes, which made me bless my mute button.
Meanwhile, The Colbert Report has sparkled all week long. He launched on Monday with string theorist Brian Greene (paraphrasing: “So, to understand string theory, I’d need to first understand quantum mechanics and relativity, right? Explain all that in thirty seconds, if you would.”) On Tuesday, author Richard Preston (The Hot Zone; The Demon in the Freezer) went into excruciating detail about the bad form of smallpox — yes, you should be thankful if you only get run-of-the-mill smallpox — and on Wednesday, Stephen had fun with Katrina vanden Heuvel, publisher of The Nation. Last night, he and Richard Clarke riffed off one another . . .
. . . and Jon Stewart gave us White Stripes.
So, what happened? Did Colbert take the best writers with him, or (my suspicion) was he one of the Daily Show’s best writers?
My advice, which I base on fifteen years experience in the nasal mucus and ear wax business: expand your talent search, Jon, both for writers and reporters. Regarding the reporters: I love Rob Corddry and Samantha Bee, but the rest of ’em are weak links.
D.
*Case in point: last night, The Daily Show played a video clip of Dubya singing with a group of carolers. Watch the guy’s lips: he didn’t know the words of a common carol.
Did the writers capitalize on this video? Nope. It played without comment.
Technorati tag: Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, the colbert report
Somehow, Aziz’s words sound much better when Snoop Dogg sez ’em
From Jurassic Pork, who got it from Blue Gal, meet Gizoogle, a translator which will turn any web page into Dogg-speak.
My little frog has this to say, post-translation:
No, you may not breed wit me, so stiznop dippin’.
Remember yesterday’s bit on the Guardian Unlimited Books’ Bad Sex in Fiction Award? Here’s a translated excerpt:
Wizzle is it `bout sex tizzle drives such respected authors as Jiznohn Updike*, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, n Salman Rushdie ta tha absolute pits of literary whiffydom? Read tha Guardian Unlimited article n savor tha rizzay odor of truly bad weed-smokin’. Sorry, Daisy, I know yo piece won mah contest, but it shouldn’t have. It was far too wizzle written.
Takes one of tha pimp entries:
The Olive Rappa by Christine Aziz (Macmillan)
We made our way ta tha summerhizouse n hid in its shadows with the S-N-double-O-P. We lay on tha coo` floor n I twined mah legs around Rappa body, blunt-rollin’ him like a hunta hang’n on ta its prey. He made love ta me wit his finga n I came in tha palm of his hand. He stroked mah breasts n nizzle. “Don’t wizzle it away” he said. “I want ta be able ta smizzay you tonight.”
Like a playa hang’n on ta its prey? And what’s wit tha funky punctuation (“Don’t W-to-tha-izzash it away” he said.)? My high schoo` AP English motherfucka would hizzle red-lined me ta hell n B-to-tha-izzack . You’se a flea and I’m the big dogg.
As fo` content — eeew. You wouldn’t repeat this ta yo bizzle friend, would you? For M-to-tha-izzost people, this would qualify as too M-to-tha-izzuch 411 . If you wouldn’t tizzell it ta yo bizzy friend, why would you share it wit yo reada?
*Jiznohn Updike — that’s my favorite, considering the Updike’s winning entry ;o)
D.