It's News to YOU

Every morning on my commute to work i spend the whole drive watching the clock and making mental calculations. Depending on how many times i hit the snooze button and how bad traffic is, the drive has varying degrees of tension...

7:29 and I'm off. It's only 25 minutes, so i should be alittle early.
7:35 and I haven't gotten to the highway yet? I'm gonna be late.
7:47? Really? That was quick. I gained time and I'm gonna be early.
7:54! Stupid downtown traffic! I'm gonna be late!

Today though was a different story.

Continued on page 2... "The Road Warrior" »

Posted by Keeferman at 02:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yes, well, one of Joan D'arc's uncles just passed away. Most of her mom's family are still in Neshoba county, so that's where we went. Philadelphia, Mississippi is country country Country. I dunno how remarkable that is to the average person, but i was pretty conscious of it myself. There's a big difference between being a Bostonian transplant in Atlanta... and being a YANKEE in the DEEP SOUTH.

The funeral was small and quiet. The family was somber and respectful. There was even some fried chicken, cornbread, and sweet tea at a little gathering afterward. All things considered, it was nice.

We weren't actually heading back home 'til the next day though. So there i was, trapped in Mississippi (hundreds of kilometers away from my cats and internet connection), with many hours still to kill. What to do. What to do. Well, what would yoU do? Of course we did the only thing there really is to do in Noxapater (Population: 400) on a Saturday night. We went clubbing. That is to say... we went to The Catfish Opry. The Catfish Opry is exactly what it sounds like it is. It's like The Grand Ole Opry COMBINED with catfish. Thus... The Catfish Opry.

Continued on page 2... "Mississippi Funerals" »

Posted by Keeferman at 07:12 PM | Permalink

We're going to the dogs.

i won't bore you (again?) with the saga that arose (Quite suddenly) four weeks ago, but yes my wife ended up getting a dog. A Shetland Collie (Sheltie) with "blue merle" coloring.

I've managed to talk her down from “Stirling” (we've actually Been there and the breed is Scottish, but it's not the kind of name Keeferman is willing to SHOUT at a dog when shouting's necessary). Unfortunately, Joan d'Arc didn’t like my counter: “Rolf”. So... “Crichton” is the latest. A compromise based upon the lane down which he was born, the cool sci-fi character, and the fact that it too is Scottish: "criochton signifies a boundary hill, end, limit, landmark; creachton, the hill or castle of plunder”.

But these fancy dogs gots to have fancy names, don’t they? The one shown HERE is called “Marshland Fantom of the Opera”. Maybe we shouLd go with a big showdog name…
“Champion Commander John Crichton” or
“Prince Crichton Proutychols” or
“Crichton Landshark Minimonkey” even.

Wait there’s goTTa be some Rules about that…

Continued on page 2... "Cat People" »

Posted by Keeferman at 06:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

There we were.
There we were.
There we were.
IN the Con(Dragon).
Making appearances and escorting our out-of-town guests around. Alllll day Friday.

We did the "Walk of Fame". I signed some autographs and we chatted-up some fans. Of course we hung out with some celebrities too. We checked out the art show and the acres of merchandise. It was cool. We took a break for dinner (with RayPark/DarthMaul among others) at Trader Vic's. Then it was back to the hotel lobby for cocktails late into the night (with RichardHatch/Apollo-Zarek among others). Much fun was had by all. But, wait, there's more...

Continued on page 2... "DragonCon!" »

Posted by Keeferman at 05:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The sky ripped open
and rain poured through the gaping wound.
Pounding the erstwhile mechanic.
Pounding the erstwhile mechanic.

Keeferman huddled over the exposed engine block as water washed down his face and off his nose, falling into a focal point on the wet battery leads he was trying to reconnect. It was a tight spot and the wet wrench kept slipping off greased terminals. Eventually though, he got it.

Continued on page 2... "Bullet the Grey Sky" »

Posted by Keeferman at 05:18 PM | Permalink

Joan had a High School reunion last night.

It wasn't as bad as i expected, but it wasn't NEARLY as much fun as that one Charlie Driggs went to in "Something Wild" (1986). The worst part was when Joan nixxed my bourbon&coke lineup and told me i was the one driving us home eventually. That came as a bit of a shock to me as I'd planned on buddying-up with Jack Daniels while Joan talked to all those strangers. Instead i just soberly watched people all night.

Continued on page 2... "Reunions" »

Posted by Keeferman at 05:16 PM | Permalink

Kids say the darnedest things. Sometimes i get asked why my forearms look like Popeye's or why my calves look like I've stuffed bowlingballs in my socks. That part of my physique is genetic. What's not genetic though is my homegrown New England love of donuts and my media-induced fear of looking like a pink Pillsbury Doughboy.

Downtown, behind a popular restaurant and down some stairs to below streetlevel, is the gym. The Platinum Superhero Gym. Of course there's no signage and it has a pretty exclusive membership, but i assure you it's there. Right there, sitting innocuous-like, in the middle of everything. You'd never guess.

Continued on page 2... "Kids, cartoon characters, and You." »

Posted by Keeferman at 06:06 PM | Permalink

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Continued on page 2... "I WON! I WON!" »

Posted by Keeferman at 02:12 PM | Permalink

Don’t you hate it when you change your alarm on the weekend or when you’re on vacation… and then you wake up and look at the clock… but it doesn’t make any sense? Like… “something’s very wrong here, but i can’t quite figure it out”. And then you’re like: “OMG! I’m so fricken late!”. And then you jump up and hit the shower -and only THEN does it occur to you… “Ohhhhhhh, yeah. It’s the weekend. I’m not late for work. I’m right on time for play”. And you can’t believe you wasted good adrenaline like that.

Yeah. i hate that.

And then there’s Monday when you forget to set the alarm back to it’s regular time and you look at the clock and it just doesn’t make any sense and you’re thinking: “maybe it’s the weekend”, but then you realize it’s NOT the weekend and then you’re like: “OMG! I’m so fricken late!”.

Yeah.

Posted by Keeferman at 01:23 PM | Permalink

i donated blood.

Actually, i donated Platelets. That's what they needed. i walked in intending to donate blood, but they said they really needed platelets. Okay then. I'd never done that before, so they told me what it was all about.

If you didn't already know, platelets are the part of your blood most-responsible for clotting. When people are undergoing chemotherapy, or they're transplant patients, or they have some unusual blood disease, their platelets are down and they don't have the same ability to control bleeding that healthy people have. Particularly-sick people need our platelets.

First you have to prove that you, yourself, are healthy enough to donate, so they give you a mini-physical. Fortunately my blood pressure and iron were both good. -Oh, and they give you a quiz. "Have you taken aspirin in the last 48 hours?" No. "Have you ever been to Haiti?" No. "Have you spent more than five years in Europe?" No. "Do you work or play with monkeys?" No! Then you engage the doctor in a staring contest. If she blinks first, you Pass.

Continued on page 2... "i Saved a Life Today (and you can too)." »

Posted by Keeferman at 11:08 PM | Permalink