Wednesday, June 13, 2007

What Else Has the Presidential Seal?

Saw this photo on Daliy Kos today:

Our fearless leader, sportin’ a mighty fine ensemble.

Note however, the socks. Yes, they bear the official Presidential Seal on them. When you are president, I guess everything ends up Presidential, all the way down to your stockings. Mustn’t have the presidential ankles clothed in anything that smacks of “common.”

Got me thinking, What else bears the Presedential Seal?

Jon scribbled this mess on 06/13/07 at 08:19 PM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

From the Ministry of Silly Faces

Now!

Live!

Straight from an extended engagement in Vegas!

Direct your attention to the center stage!

I give you!

The Lord High Chancellor of Silly Faces:

LUCAS!


“Let’s raise the ROOF! Or something like that? What was my line/catch phrase again? Lift the ceiling? Hold up the walls? Huh? What?”



“Oh yeah, baby, turn that Burt Bacharach music UP! I’m about to bust a MOVE!”



“For the 1:15 matinee program, I shall swallow an entire chicken, bones and all in just one gulp!”



“When I begin the yodeling portion of the program, all the ladies begin to throw their undies at me on stage. What’s that about anyway? Why would I want their gross underwear? Ick.”



“Yes, I am the Lucas the Lord High Chancellor of Silly Faces, how may I be of assistance to you, my dear?”


Seriously, I knew I should have taken him to the doctor after I dropped him on his head that third time. He ain’t been right ever since.

Jon scribbled this mess on 06/12/07 at 12:10 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Photos Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Monday, June 11, 2007

The Cruelty of Angst

So yesterday was my birthday. Reha flew my Mom in for a surpise birthday party and I was floored when I walked in and saw her there. But as you know, this place is ALL ABOUT ME, not my mother, so let’s get to the point:

I turned 40.

FORTY!

The big FOUR-OH!

Holy pizza sitting out all night in the box on the counter, I’ve gotten old all of a sudden.

Obviously, it didn’t just sneak up on me. I knew it was coming and all that. But saying out loud, “I’m forty” feels seventeen kinds of strange is all. It’s like if you woke up one day and found that you had a hojillion dollars and now you can pay for lunches, instead of hiding in the bathroom when the check comes, but you still have the instinct to run for the potty when you see the server trotting up with the final bill. “Oh! I can stay and handle this now.” But it’s not money, it’s years and the past stretching out behind you. Saying “I’m in my forties” is going to take some getting used to, that’s all I’m saying.

Am I going through a mid-life crisis? No, not really. I don’t want to buy a Maserati or trade in my wife for a younger model, but I am feeling a bit “meh” about it all.

I just look back at my life and all the stuff I’ve ever done and think, “That’s it? That’s everything I’ve accomplished? What a pathetic waste of space and oxygen I turned out to be. I haven’t climbed any mountains or cured any cancers and I’m not rich or famous and geez, back when I was 22, I kind of thought I might have had a chance for at least one of those things.” Kind of like how every man secretly believes that if he just practiced really hard, he could make it to the big leagues and become a closer of the Red Sox (or $_TEAM, whatever). Or at least a middle reliever. Or am I the only one who thinks that way? ‘Cause, dude, back in the day I had quite an arm; and, though I tend to think most sports are kind of silly, I never had the motivation to practice that much and I didn’t really have that good a curve ball; but barring those things, I TOTALLY could have played, man.

Reha would like to interject that NO ONE has cured cancer yet, so it’s not like I’m in poor company over here.

But Jon, you big blubbering mass of malaise, you say exasperatedly, “you have a great wife who puts up loves you and four wonderful and thus far mostly mentally sane children who think you are funny and smart, you have decent health and a good job, why don’t you put a cork in it?”

Yeah, but…

It’s just…

Jeez, I’m forty and I look back and feel like I’ve WASTED so much time on so many things that don’t matter. And I’m not just talking about finishing Kingdom Hearts II, either. (That was both fun AND worthwhile. I saved the universe, dude). I’m talking about wasting my life on things that *really* don’t matter, like that one time I got caught up in a marathon run of The Nanny on Lifetime.

Anyway, my life is now probably halfway done. Damned if I’m going to let Fran Drescher rule it any longer.

Reha, sage that she is, opined that since I’m not really much of a life planner, I shouldn’t be that surprised that I’m not some über-person who cured lymphoma a couple years ago and was now getting busy on that pesky Arab-Israeli conflict. (Speaking fo that, who do you have to kill to get a Nobel Peace Prize, anyway?) I’m pretty mellow in the same way a stoner teenager is mellow, as we all know. So I should just be at least content that I’ve turned out half as well as I have and just shut it.

But…

I’m not going to make some huge life change from here on out and become a monk or stop stalking Jennifer Aniston, but I am going to make some of those things… what do you call them? Starts with a “g"… Ah! Goals! Those.

Gonna make me some goals.

Isn’t that how they say it?

No, that’s not right…

I’m going to SET some goals. And see if I can’t make some changes in my life so I don’t have a minor mental meltdown in ten years. That sound you heard was my wife keeling over after fainting.

Wait… in ten years… I’ll be 50! Fifty! Oh holy, Book ‘em, Dan-O, Hawaii Five-O!

Oh. Kill. Me. Now.

Jon scribbled this mess on 06/11/07 at 12:03 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Friday, June 08, 2007

Multiple Choice Question

So I got new glasses. I have trouble seeing at distance and my night vision also illicites “tsk-tsk” noises from both my eye doctor and my wife.

Small note about my eye doctor. Reha goes to her and Re made the appointment for me. But she (the doc) is probably the meanest eye doctor on the planet. She’s abrupt. She fusses at you. Terrible bed/chair side manners. For example (maybe this is just me being goofy): I had been having some odd pain in my left eyelid, on the south side of my eye. More annoying than painful, but I mentioned the pain on the form. Felt like something was stuck in it. She took a gander and said that indeed there was something stuck there. So she numbed my eyeball up and had me put my head on a chin rest. She shined a really bright light in my eye and swabbed my eye with a big ol’ über Q-tip thing. Got whatever was in there out.

Except!

When she originally swabbed with the Q-tip, I flinched and blinked (overpowering her fingers which were prying my eye open and moved my head. “You have to keep your head still!”

“I’m sorry, it was pretty much an involuntary reaction to the stick in my eye.”

“Well, your eye is numb, and I’m holding your eyelids open, but you have to control your head.”

“Which is a little tricky to do when you have a giant tree poking into my eye!”

“Well, try to keep it still.”

Right, I’ll do just that.

Anyway… this is me with my new glasses:

Tell my what you think:

Are the glasses?


You may only comment on the GLASSES! Not my lack of hair (I need a trim), my weird looking nose or the ginormous zit that used to be on my cheek that I cloned out in Photoshop.

Jon scribbled this mess on 06/08/07 at 02:39 PM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Photos Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Thursday, June 07, 2007

What I Did There

I made a joke. It’s wasn’t particularly funny. That isn’t really the point. But I did what I do:

Me: You see what I did there?

Reha: What did you do there?

Me: I made a little joke.

Reha (incredibly non-committal-ly): Mhm.

Time passes.

I make essentially the SAME little joke. (That’s a “call-back” in the comedy biz, kids)

Me: You see what I did there?

Reha: A useless change in the carbon-dioxide/oxygen ratio in the room?

Me: You could just say it wasn’t a funny joke, you know.

Jon scribbled this mess on 06/07/07 at 08:58 PM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post Favorite Entries. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link
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