Wish you were here.

Well, not all of you at the same time. That would probably ruin it.

We went camping with our friends Vidna, Pootie and Bee last weekend, and had a great time. Just wanted to post up a few shots. Looks like this weekend is another wash-out. I can't catch a break, weather-wise.

I don't even bother to take pictures any more. I just bring these guys. It's like having a really good camera that carries itself.

You can check out a couple of Vidna's shots here and here, and one of Pootie's here.

Stomping. It's all the rage.

I saw a commercial for these the other day -- they're a new kind of slipper for kids that basically do action X when you stomp on them. They flop their ears, open their eyes, flap their mouths... It's a pretty good idea, if perhaps a tad unsafe on the stairs. They're basically a non-electronic version of those light-up sneakers all the kids had a few years ago.

I'm pretty sure they didn't they do any sort of marketing research before naming these things, though. Almost all the names rely on some sort of dumb alliteration. BeBop Bunny, Perky Puppy, etc. They went off the rails a bit with "Playful Blue Puppy." I think they may have been running out of steam at that point.

Then there's this one:

The Unusual Unicorn? What makes him unusual? The fact that his horn looks like soft-serve ice-cream? Because that's pretty unusual. Or maybe not. I don't have any unicorns so I'm probably not the best judge of horn quality. Maybe it's just the first word they stumbled upon that met their very low alliteration standards. On the flip side, I'm now going to assume that the 'usual' unicorns are the ones I see all the time. I probably won't even brake for them when they're crossing the street anymore. BAM! Who gives a crap. Those stupid things are all over the place.

And this:

Yes, it's the One-Eyed Monster, which is not at all a euphemism that's been around since the dawn of time. They had to go and muddy the waters, didn't they? Now when someone asks me if I'd like to see their One-Eyed Monster, I'm going to need to clarify a few things first. Are they a pair? Are they fuzzy? Wait, this isn't really helping. Not only is the name highly suspect, but apparently it's been knighted like Paul McCartney, because it's using the honorific "Sir." Like that lends them some credibility or something. I can see the marketing execs sitting in the conference room brainstorming about the name. "There's just something missing. We need to pump these up. Add something to make that One-Eyed Monster stand up and be noticed. Hey! I know! Let's just add a 'Sir' on the front. Hell, it worked for Alec Guinness, and he was a nobody."

Initially, what I found confusing was the question of whether or not they are two separate monsters. After thinking about it for a few seconds, I determined that they would have to be, otherwise they'd just be a regular two-eyed monster that had been even more inappropriately named.

I don't know. It's probably just me, but there's something in my brain that refuses to accept "stomping" as a valid activity if One-Eyed Monsters are involved.

I'll probably have to go for the BeBop Bunny.

See you in September.

Who remembers that song? My dad, that's who. I'm not that old. But be warned -- this post will be the equivalent of "HEY YOU KIDS! GET OFF MY LAWN!"

It's autumn, and therefore I am spending a lot of time in the Adirondacks. I wait for this season all year, but it's always so fleeting. This past weekend my wife and I went to one of our favorite haunts, and the weather was perfect.

We weren't sure what to expect because of all the storm blowdown we've been hearing about, not to mention the washed out roads. The access road to this place isn't great to begin with, so we figured there was a pretty decent possibility that we'd be turning around at some point. We got a bit worried when we saw a sign on the access road about a bridge being out, but when we got to the lake the only thing there that indicated something was going on was a big-ass crane. But the work was done and for the most part, we had the place to ourselves. We paddled out to one of our favorite sites, and it was vacant so we took it.

It's always interesting to see what the idiots got up to on labor day weekend. Other than the typical issue of people not knowing how to dig a frigging hole and cover it back up if they have to go to the bathroom, the site wasn't in bad shape. Some melted cans and bottles in the fire ring, but not too much garbage in the site proper. But how ridiculous and disgusting is this?

Yeah, so I had to actually touch that thing in order to move it far, far away from our site. The most digesting part? As I was moving it, the bottom fell out. You haven't lived until you've heard a sound like PHUT! and felt a 5-gallon pail of liquified fecal matter suddenly become almost weightless.

People are stupid. Do they think the rangers have nothing better to do than go around the lake and retrieve 5 gallon pails of crap? I just don't understand this mentality.

Also, over the years I've gotten pretty good at telling whether someone I've never seen or met is a stupid asshole or not. For instance, if you do this to a live tree, you are a stupid asshole:

Why do I keep coming back here? Because of this:

I'll move poop for that if I have to, I guess. But I also bought a canoe carrier. My theory is that if I can go somewhere more difficult to get to, there will be fewer stupid assholes. But there may be a fault in my logic because there are different types of stupid assholes. There are lazy stupid assholes who 2-stroke it in with a cooler full of beer, but there are also meathead stupid assholes who decide to prove how badass they are by hiking ten miles with a keg of beer on each shoulder. I guess we'll see.

It was pretty peaceful except for about an hour on Saturday afternoon when a family of five came in for a day of kayaking - mom, dad, and their three kids. The kids were loud and obnoxious and pre-teens and therefore incapable of shutting the hell up for any length of time greater than or equal to three seconds. They also felt the need to stop at the flat rock in the middle of the lake directly across from our campsite and get out. The kids repeatedly threatened to jump in and the parents repeatedly yelled at them to get back in their boats. At the top of their lungs. For a solid 30 minutes.

It's a ROCK for god's sake. It's not a ride at Disneyland. They were also trying to imitate the loons and failing miserably. They sounded more like german police cars. The loons were having none of it, and immediately vacated the premises.

We then witnessed the exact moment that primitive humans discovered the echo. They yelled things and were amazed and delighted that the spirit of the mountain yelled the exact same thing back at them. In their own voices. It was apparently like magic. They did this for another ten minutes until I couldn't take it any more and yelled "HEY YOU KIDS! GET OFF OF MY LAKE!"

No, I didn't. I just yelled "SHUT UP!" -- and they actually did.

Hello? Have you noticed that there isn't another sound for miles EXCEPT FOR YOU? No, you have not.

And why? Because you are clueless idiots. Anyway, sorry for the rant. This vacation stuff is supposed to be relaxing.

On the way home, we saw this:

I can immediately tell you a few things about this family:

1. Their house smells like cat pee and wet dog.

2. You probably don't want to walk in their yard.

3. You should never, ever eat anything they bring to the bake sale.

I still owe you guys a few stories, but between trying to see if I have enough material for another book, insulating my basement and trying to get outside as much as possible this month, I've been neglecting my poor old blog. Oh, and my computer has been in the basement for the last week because it's the only one I have with a camera on it and we've been trying to figure out which one of the cats has the poops.

That's a good use of a $2300 computer, right?

Auto Repairs made easy.

I met my brother for lunch today and he was showing me his new car. I asked him what kind of mileage it got, and he told me around 22, which I thought was really low.

Turns out it's a V8 with all-wheel drive. I asked him to pop the hood and show me the engine, since I'm a guy and I like looking at V8's because it's in my blood.

He popped the hood and here's what I saw:



Seriously? V8, I don't even know you any more. There was a little door for the windshield washer fluid, and a dipstick. That's it.

It might as well have a sticker on it that says:

Either that, or it should just have a mechanical arm that reaches out and grabs your wallet out of your back pocket and then punches you in the nuts with it.