That's what i said when they asked me why I'm wearing a tie.

"You and your polo shirts bore me to death. It's time for something new around here. I'm bringing The Tie back."

Then they asked me why I'm wearing jeans.

"They're more comfortable than slacks or suitpants or whatever."

I'm bringing it back, but I'm bringing it back MY WAY.

I'm rocking it interrobang-style.

I'm wearing a tie AND I'm wearing jeans.

The sartorial equivalent of a mullet.

Yeah. You heard me. I said it.

"Business up top,
party down below."

Has it really been a year already?

Biggest story's gotta be BARACK OBAMA, baby! Then (guess what) it's the economy, stupid. -Everything after that is distant thirds. Distant.

My wife got a new dog and a new fence to hold the dog. My cat says it's the worst... year... evar. Sometimes (especially stepped-in-dogpoop times) I'm inclined to agree with him.

The Grinch Party was cool. The Fifth of July party was cool. Surman and Noelissa had some pretty cool parties too. -Oh yeah!SHARRON AND LUKE GOT MARRIED! How 'bout thAt? Well, as cool as it was (and congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. von Hoene-Scott), it's still only Top Ten of 2008.

You just can't get around The Election and The Economy. Even the other bad news wasn't bad enough. @tlanta had a tornado DOWNTOWN. Gov. Spitzer and Gov. Blagojovitch got busted. GOVERNORS! There was even a MadMax/RoadWarrior flashback when gas prices in the South hit $4.50 and then neighborhood filling stations ran outta gas completely. None of that stuff, as crazy as it all seemed, was even close to the hugeness of Obama and the economy he's inheriting.

So... 2009... Obama vs. The Economy. Who wins? Does he get to enact his progressive agenda or does the economy crush his American dreams? My money's on Obama, but there's only one way to find out. In the meantime, i Keeferman, declare 2008 officially over.

Wait, we were talking about crimes against potatoes...

Sometimes people will mash their potatoes. They'll peel away that nutrition-packed outer layer, mush the rest up, and then serve it with >ack< some sort of gravy over it. Jeebus. That's an abomination. There's no reason to Throw Away the skin of a potato. Just wash it. No big deal -unless you're some kind of o'phobe. The other best part of potatoes is their texture, the firmness of it. If you want mush, then go eat some babyfood. Adults ap-pre-ci-ate character in their potatoes. The worst of the mashed potatoes though are when people have the gall to use so-called "instant" potatoes. WTF?! Who would disintegrate a potato and then bother reintegrating it unless they were on the Starship Enterprise or the Oregon Trail? Come on! Seriously. Remember: there's no substitute for potatoes -not the name, not the ingredient.

French fries are cool though. Well, french fries are fine if they're thick, but those thin little potato sticks are pretty terrible. And if you're British (or even French), I'd prefer that you started calling them "french fries" instead of "chips". It's in the interest of vegetable unity. When some Londoner or Dubliner calls out for fries, you're going to confuse us if you use the word "Chips". Chips are a different beast altogether.

Actually, most potato chips are terrible -especially Pringles (sorry, Proctor& Gamble Co.). i dunno what it is, but it seems like "chipping" them just drains the life right out of 'em. Apparently i believe that potatoes should be firm, but not crisp. Yes. That's it. Well, there can be, like, a crisp on your Potatoes Au Gratin, but they shouldn't be a dry, crisp husk like a chip or a stick. If you want a chip, you really should be going for a salsa chip or a cracker or something. I'm just saying. Obviously potato chips are pretty popular though, so this one isn't necessarily a rule or anything. I'm just saying. And don't you Europeans call 'em "crisps" either. They're chips. Sure, they Get crisp when you cook 'em, but the nomenclatural idea is that they're Chips off whole potatoes and the synecdoche works pretty well for us in the States. Besides, we eat over three times as many potatoes as Britain and Ireland combined, so... there.

Baked potatoes are the best though. OMG, baked potatoes ROCK. You can make a baked potato into almost anything. There are more configurations of potatoes and complimentary condiments than there are variations in the combination of adenine, thymine, guanine, and cytosine. Seriously. You can go from the purists who dig butter into the risk-takers who throw in some chili (and beyond). Baked potatoes are the way to go 90% of the time.

A nice, creamy, cheesy potato soup is very nice. Stewed potatoes are pretty nice too. We've already mentioned fries i guess -and Au Gratin. There's more, but you get the idea.

Respect the potato.

Yeah.

P.S. Even forgetting everything else that's wrong with Pringles, their actual potato content is said to be only 42%.

Whatever.

Anyway, i found something.

Which one of you coolkidz is gonna step and be my CMJ/NMM muse?
Who's gonna be my 120 Minutes VJDJ?
Come ON now.

For the rest of you...
T.I.'s "Swagger Like Us"
M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes"
The Clash's "Straight to Hell"
Check. It Out.

Woot! Roadtrip!

[UPDATE: The Sox have been eliminated and I'm currently inconsolable. In the meantime, sorry Phils fans, go Rays (they're the feel good story of the season).]

[UPDATE: Congrats, Phils. I wonder though if there's anyone outside greater Philadelphia who dOeSn'T consider that totally anticlimactic.]

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.

Glance: I haven't even hit "E" yet, I'll be fine.
Glance: Uh-oh, it just hit "E", but i should be fine anyway.
Glance: AM i fine? It looks pretty low.
Glance: At least the "empty" light hasn't come on.
Glance: Doh! The "empty" light! i can still make it, right?

i made it.

And if i don't get too unlucky, i should probably have enough gas to make it home again maybe. -And then there's a good possibility I'd be stuck there. Actually, i Gotta find a gas station or we're going to have to go with Plan B.

-One minute CNN video documenting Atlanta's very real gas crisis.
-AJC article about it.
-The map my wife sent me for locating gas in Atlanta.

[Editor's note: since Keeferman moved OTP, he's now off the main MARTA grid. Since he works a twelve hour shift and since he works only 3.5 days a week (and since this includes Sundays), carpooling is unpossible. He's certainly working harder on a mass transit plan now though.]

[UPDATE: The rumor, via someone in Joan D'arc's office, is that QT guarantees to have gas.]

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.

When you walk in, you pay your $12 and then step over to the all-you-can eat catfish buffet. There's breaded catfish and blackened catfish. There's coleslaw and hushpuppies. There's black eyed peas, butter beans, fried okra, and turnip greens (whatever that is). Of course there's cornbread and fried chicken and sweet tea too. It's a Mississippi smorgasbord.

i loaded up my plate and turned to face the auditorium. It looked like there were about two-and-a-half acres of picnic tables lined up from the back where the food was to the front of the stage where the band was playing. It was still early, so there were only a few dozen people there, but it could obviously hold hundreds more. We sat down with our dozen and dug in.

Something happened then. i don't know exactly what it was because i seem to have lost consciousness. Apparently my wife (the woman who knows me and loves me more than any other) loaded her plate with some coleslaw and then sat upwind a bit too close to me. I'd passed out from the krytonite-like fumes. i picked myself up, dusted myself off, and moved another meter down the bench.

While my wife enjoyed her dreadful coleslaw, i dug into my catfish again. It was delicious. For my first helping i ate about five planks of variously prepared catfish, some macaroni, and potato salad. i love potatoes and I'm a potato salad fanatic. This potato salad wasn't as good as i was hoping it'd be (the main problem being it was neither cold nor hot, but a milquetoasty room temperature). The catfish, however, was excellent. For my second helping i got another five or six planks. i also picked up some spice cake and some banana pudding.

That's when it happened again. i sat down next to my wife and a noxious odor hit me. It smelled like... it smelled like it smells when you walk your dog and don't notice that you stepped in something. We DID walk my wife's dog just before we left to come out, but how did i not notice it until now? i tried to look real casual as i lifted up my shoe and leaned over to look, but it was clear. i was about to lift up my other shoe when it hit me again. -Only it was coming from the side, not from underneath. i looked over to my left and saw the most horrifying thing. It was my wife. And heaped there on the fork she was raising to her lips was a putrid pile of poop-smelling Turnip Greens. SERIOUSLY. You are NOT going to put that in your mouth are you? (i gagged alittle when she Did.)

As i sat there struggling to maintain consciousness, i tried to focus on something other than my wife's culinary delights. Of course there was the band. Only thAt band had stepped offstage and there was a guy up there doing Gospel karaoke. He was a pretty good entertainer, but kept hawking his services again and again and again. I'm sure his CD and website are pretty professional, but it was alittle underwhelming to see the guy (inbetween his "commercials") keep referring to lyrics sheets. Either you're a pro or you're not (am i right?).

Up next was the Kenny Rogers No-Stars Band. i dunno if that's what they were called, but that's what was in my head as i watched them. There were three guitarists (not counting bass) who all seemed to have different ideas about what they should be playing -so their music was all over the place. We heard Merle Haggard, Chuck Berry, and Guy Lombardo in the same set. It was alittle weird. They say you get what you pay for and, unfortunately, we hadn't paid anything to see them. That being said, they had far more musical talent than i do and i suppose i should be grateful for their efforts.

By the time the next gospel performer came up, we knew it was time to go. We had to get back to the ranch in time for the presidential debate. It was going to be the Atlantan progressives hunkering down with the Mississippi conservatives. This should be interesting. -Only it wasn't. Everybody was pretty respectful and well-behaved and the debate itself was alittle too civil. The highlight of the event seemed to be all the local TV feeds hyping the Ole Miss connection (Joan's dad's alma mater and the setting for the debate). Yay Mississippi.

It wasn't nearly as bad as i expected.

It was pretty alright.

(All things considered.)

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, Joanderwoman 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…

[I don't know. Hey, Joan, WHAT is the name of the kennel? Or, yeah, “Crichton” was the name of the street, right? Well, does the kennel/breeder have a name? What was it? DO we have his papers and know about his family and stuff? You do, right?]

The good news is that, even though we haven't yet sorted out his name, he feels comfortable enough already to have pooped on our floor.

No wonder everybody loves dogs.

[UPDATE: We've thrown Crichton out the window. That is to say it's been decided that that is no longer part of his name. His AKC designation is now Prince Stirling Piper Triple Nickels Wonderdog. Joan calls him Stirling, i call him Piper, mostly he just barks incoherently at us.]

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...

There's so much to see & do. The rest of the day was even more con-wandering. There're panel discussions and little film festivals and stuff. You can watch comicbook artists work on sketches and everybody's walking around in (or taking pix of) reallly elaborate costumes. Even if you don't get IN to the scheduled/sequestered events and even if you're not all that into sci-fi/fantasy, you Hafta see the hustle & bustle of the nerdtacular crowds between & amongst the three main hotels in downtown Atlanta. It's ker-razy. And then Saturnight was more cocktails back at the hotel.

Sunday though, we took a little break. Joan d'Arc slept in and i went out early with the crew to play a round of golf. I don't mean to brag, but i shot under 150 there at Bradshaw Farm. Bradshaw... Favre... it's fantasy football draft time again. After a quickchange we rendezvoused back at the business center for our teleconferenced CyberBall VirtualReality Football League draft -and, yes, it's that huge. We had the two Atlanta teams and two Florida teams live-and-in-person. On the line were the two Indianapolis teams, Chicago, Houston, and Denver. As cool as the golf and the draft were, however, i missed the MISS KLINGON UNIVERSE pageant. Again. (Next year we're going to have to schedule things better.)

Monday we wrapped up the last of our convention attending with a Battlestar Galactica panel and alittle more merch-browsing. It was BLTs for lunch and then we waved goodbye to everybody as they scattered back across the country. (Big sigh of relief.)

i was passed-out face-down on the couch by 7pm.

P.S. More to follow, but... herrrrrrrrrre's Flickr.

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.

They didn't seem to notice me though as i walked around to the driver's side door, opened it, and slipped inside. Instant quiet. The rain was now just a distant sound on the other side of the windshield. i was still soaked though and the keys i pulled from my pocket were dripping wet. i shook them once, wiped one on a drier fold of my shirt, and plugged into the ignition.

Of course it started right up. i shut it down and restarted it a number of times to be sure. No, yeah, it's good.

i got out and stepped back around to the open hood. -Waitaminute. The rain stopped. And it was alittle lighter out too. i tilted my head up to let the brim of my hat take in the whole sky. Just then there was a break in the clouds and the sun was shining down on my half of the parking lot. i swear. The sun came out and shined down upon me and my enterprise. i dropped the hood, stepped back, and considered my work.

Job well done, Keeferman.

Well done.

i drove across town, windows down and wind blowing, to Joan's office to collect my kudos. By the time i got there though, i was pretty dry, so i figured i wouldn't be getting Full Credit for my deluvian labor. Unfortunately, it was going to be worse than underwhelming. As i stood there waiting for the elevator, the doors opened and her manager stepped out with another coworker. We were each alittle surprised to see eachother, but exchanged greetings and i told them i was there to drop off Joan's now-functioning car. That's when her coworker told me the bad news. "Yeah, Joan said you were grumpy on the phone."

WHAT?!

It's quitting time and they're among the last of those scattering homeward. I'm not going to have the opportunity to track everybody down and explain the circumstances. I'm not going to be able to explain how I'd been in the middle of something, but dropped everything and immediately sprang into action. I won't get to explain how any perceived terseness was just me Getting Down to Business. Nobody's going to know that i got it resolved in less than an hour and no one's going to understand (on this bright & sunny late afternoon) that i did it in the Pouring Rain.

No.

Not only do i NOT get full credit for my good deed, but the way it's going down in the books is "He was grumpy about it."

This is bu-

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.

Anyway, today was an "arms" day. 10x150Kg on the bench, a few leg adductions, 10x100Kg two arm chest fly, a few leg abductions, 10x150Kg military press. Then 2 kilometers on the treadmill at 25kph (inclined). Then arms rotation again. Then 10 kilometers on the treadmill at 20kph (inclined). Then arms again. That's 45 minutes of sweat right there. Since I'm doing this during my dayjob lunchbreak, i don't really have time for much more than that. One cold shower, quickchange, and brisk walk later... I'm back at the office.

If you're not doing anything (and the U.S. Surgeon General estimates that 60% of you aren't), you gotta do Something. Nobody's gotta get hulked-up or superskinny, but everybody's gotta get Active. Start by taking walks at home and taking stairs when you're out-and-about. Ease into Stage 2 by fitting actual workouts into your weekends. Eventually, you're going to have to get more of a routine going. It can be something casual like jogging around the neighborhood or messing with some sports or (if you're as undisciplined as I'm prone to be) lock yourself up in a gym. Whatever. Every responsible citizen should sweat for at least 45 minutes, 5 days a week.

That includes me and you.