The pits

I'm just sayin':

If ya'all have a dog that is THAT fragile ('it's 99% on how the dog is raised"), if ya'all would stop looking at that large, naked Emperor who, in fact, still ain't wearin' no clothes, you would admit that such an animal is still a **HUGE** risk.

Run this through your heads a few times before you hit me back:

Go on the internet NOW, and find me ANY report of a "viscous Pug" attacking a helpless old lady - or worse - an innocent child that accidentally stumbled into the wrong territory. No matter how deep you are in denial (and a lot of you are in up to your ears!), you will never, ever find such a report. Why not? It doesn't matter HOW a pug is raised, the 'attack' gene has never, ever been a part of this dog's genetic lineage (and I'm using a pug as one of many available examples.) You can damned near ring a pug's neck, and he won't fight back. Can't say the same for your pits, eh?

A slightly different story applies to the English Bulldog. More education:

An English Bulldog once had a reputation that is far worse than any Pitbull you have ever known and ever WILL know.

In the 1835, Bullbaiting was outlawed in England.

They wanted to preserve this dog, BUT WITHOUT THE AGGRESSIVE GENE!

(They didn't have trailer park trash in those days that choose to use these dogs as weapons, and thankfully, an English Bulldog was rare enough - then - and expensive enough that the 'trailer park trash' of the day couldn't afford them. So.... only the blue bloods could afford an English Bulldog. The folk with money, mind you, knew how to behave. If they wanted a weapon, they used a gun. They knew that this valuable, precious breed would rapidly go extinct because they no longer had a job: Bullbaiting. They were also smart enough (no so these days, eh?) to know that if they maintained the aggressive nature of this dog, that they would, in fact, go extinct. SO.... The English Bulldog was PURPOSEFULLY bred for a better - and better - temperament. Because of these efforts, the English Bulldog will never, ever see headlines as a 'vicious attack dog'.

If you need me to, I can quickly pull up internet news reports - probably on a daily basis - of pitbulls attacking.

(Sorry, folk. I don't live with my head stuck in my bum, and truth is the best policy.) :

Keep these dogs out of the hands of cheap, under-educated trash, and you might have a breed that - one day - will have a better reputation. Until then: Not so much.

I'll Do ANYTHING For My Art! (Channeling a 'Meatloaf' song!)

My cell phone rings.

Even though I was hobbling quickly to get me AND the cell phone out of the living room, and away from Conrad (!!) - my 18 yr. old, well-versed African Grey parrot.

I pushed "Talk" before I could get far enough away from him.

The very fraction of a second that I press "Talk", Conrad - without fail - always 'answers' the phone for me. This time, instead of his usual "Hello?", he gets creative and changes it up a bit with a loud, precise and perfectly clear:

"YES, WHORE ???" (his favorite noun!)

Before I could get a word in edge-wise, I heard a humble, defeated, small feminine voice on the other end of line whispering weakly, "Oh, my God! What just happened?"

It was a lady from the St. Louis Art Museum wanting me to renew my yearly membership.

The sad fact is that, in this case, the $ that I spend on my membership is almost equal to the $ that I would spend going to the special exhibits and paying cash to get in. I always renew my Missouri Botanical Gardens membership, because I get hundreds of dollars per yer more out of it than the $65 I paid for it.

Poor lady. She's having a bad day. She got called a whore by a mouthy parrot - and she didn't even make a sale!

- Michael

Quoth The Raven - Never like this before!

WHATEVERMORE!

Sitting in my basement next to my tanning bed, I have a 900 page "Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe.


For medical reasons (psoriasis tends to pop up in places that receive no natural sunshine!), I have to SIT on my tanning bed for 15 minutes and then LAY on the tanning bed for another 15 minutes - everyday.

While LAYING on the bed, I can't do anything but lay there with my protective eye goggles on with my arms down by my side. listing to radio or MP3s via my headset.

However, while SITTING on the bed for 15 minutes a day, I have worked on my knitting, worked on "Brain Games" books, and read MANY books - all in just 15 minutes a day.

During those 15 minutes per day, one of the books that I read was The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe.

I have always loved Poe, if, for no other reason, because I love and respect a person that is truly more of a made genius than myself. I fall under the category of "Mad Genius Lite". Mr. Poe, on the other hand, is categorized under "Hard Core Mad Genius"!

I had an 11th grade English teacher (Nona Clark-Long, GOD LOVE HER!) that would recite - from memory - Mr. Poe's works, including, but not limited to:

"The Raven"
"Bells, Bells, Bells!!"
"The Masque of the Red Death"
" The Cask of Amontillado"
"The Tell-Take Heart"

While reciting these works from memory, Ms. Clark-Long would start by standing in front of her desk. Then, within a couple minutes into the work, her face would turn red, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she would go into apparent convulsions - all while reciting this wonderful literature, and never missing a word. During "Bells, Bells, Bells!", as one example, when she reached the part that talked about tiny sleigh bells, her voice would turn very tiny and mouse-like. When she got to the Funeral Bells, her voice would be get as deep and booming as she could reach.

Almost always, while reciting Poe's works, Ms. Long-Clark would roll around on TOP of her desk, falling to the floor, and landing flat on her back, foaming at the mouth, eyes rolled back, turning red all over her body - and never missing a word of the literary piece that she was so masterfully delivering.

It was many years later that I finally realized the talents of this fantastic teacher. If ANYONE can maintain the unbroken attention of a class of High School Juniors for an hour straight - and never hearing a peep from them, that, my friends, is, indeed, TALENT!

The fact that I had :

1) Ms. Clark-Long in Quincy High as a teacher
2) her father (Dale Long) as a grade school principle in Ellington Elementary - across town
3) and her aunt (Mrs. Merle Jenkins) as my 1st grade teacher in Hannibal's Oakwood Elementary School....

....3 educators from the same family in 2 different states and 3 different schools - is another story for a different day!

Thank you, Mrs. B. Una Riley, for the fantastic memories of an educator whose quality we will never again see, and for providing me with a good way to help me to get through my cervical traction time !

- Michael

News from both, the (wild) bird and (mouthy, domestic) bird fronts:

News from both, the (wild) bird and (mouthy, domestic) bird fronts:

1) I have discovered that playing those stabbing opening chords of Steve Winwood's "Gimme Some Lovin' " on a Hammond organ through a Leslie speaker is an *excellent* way to drive the drumming horny Mr. Red-headed Woodpecker out of our fireplace chimney flue!

This a recording that I made using a cheap camera.  I was standing in the middle of my living room when I captured Mr. Horny, Hormonal Red-Headed Woodpecker:

(For whatever reason, the 'insert video' function in Blogger isn't working correctly this morning, so we'll have to use the direct link to the video:  )
http://www.youtube.com/edit?video_id=BYpnx36gHC4&ns=1

2) Mr. & Mrs. Carolina Wren have checked in this morning for the first time this season to see if last year's decoy nest - the one that they built over my new piano in my living room! - is still intact.
(Their nest is between 2 of my 14 antique Hammond clocks.)

3) Due to Conrad's excellent timing and sharp aim, my 11 yr. old blind pug is now an official "Doodie Head". Saturday, I had Conrad on my shoulder while I was cleaning Rudolph's hideously dry eyes, and applying Vaseline so that one day, he might actually be able to blink again! 

Anywho, Conrad- being the polite soul that he is - had to take a potty. When possible, he honestly tries to hand his butt off my elbow, so that he will crap on the floor, rather than down my back. As I was bent over, cleaning Rudolph's eyes, with no warning, Conrad seized the opportunity to hand his butt off my bent-over shoulder, and SPLAT! This wasn't a small, polite, demure crap. As Mark called it, it was a "Nasty Sh*it!"
There I was - kneeling in the hallway - bent over poor, old, blind Rudolph, with my hand supporting his head (and my thumb acting as a temporary dam to keep the flood of crap that was on top of his head from running into his eyes!) I desperately needed a paper towel, but I couldn't move an inch, or I would not only be fighting a hideous dry eye situation, but due to Conrad's excellent skills, I could also be fighting a bad infection.
I had to yell into the living room for Mark to bring me a paper towel.

As always, he plays down the situation until he actually sees and realizes the gravity of the matter at hand. As he handed me the paper towel, he was trying to stifle a hearty cackle!

- Michael

A Little Dab Will Do Ya!

True story:

Yesterday, we went shopping. While walking through through the store to get the 2 items that I intended to purchase, I asked Mark:

"Can you imagine the look on the cashier's face when he / she sees that *I* am buying only Monistat 7 and a couple Zucchini squash?"

After a pause and a "I'm thinking" look crossed his face, he laughed.

I had to play the part. I couldn't pass up such a good opportunity.

I laid the Monistat 7 and the zucchini down on the counter in front of the cashier, and as I did so, I flashed her a cheesy smile, and with  a pseudo-bashful move, I ducked my head slightly; Then I winked at her.

(I have never seen this range of emotions cross another person's face in such a short amount of time!)

For a fraction of a second, a troubled, disturbed look shot across her face before she caught herself, and she regained composure by blinking rapidly a few times, and trying to force a smile.

Pretending that I wasn't expecting her reaction, I quickly said, "Oh, oh! This Monistat 7 and these Zucchini aren't for me - they're FOR MY DOGS!"

That plastic, forced smile that was on her face then turned into sheer, assaulted disgust and horror!

(It was at that time that I thought I was going to wet myself!)

After I enjoyed her reaction for a couple seconds, I explained further:

"Two of my dogs have yeast infections in their ears. Vinegar washes help some, but this Monistat should give better results at beating their yeast infections. My 11 yr. old pug is blind, and he refuses to eat unless he has several slices of raw zucchini cut up in his food every morning."
The cashier was still a bit troubled about using Monistat for yeast infections in dog's ears and that a dog would even care about eating zucchini, but I think I avoided the inevitable phone call that she was going to make to the ASPCA!

- Michael

This Little Piggy Went to Market......

...and This Little Piggy stayed home and reinvented the nail color wheel!  

Before - a permanent base color of HAIR COLOR added.

AFTER - (This is after 1 week.  Some grow-out is showing!  :)  )

Kinda-maybe-sorta, at any rate.   

Individuals that are familiar with me and my routines will verify that even though I do not resemble the average person walking down the sidewalk in AnyTown, USA, I am as predictable as the movement in a Swiss-made watch.

I wear sandals year-round and throughout the Spring, Summer and Fall months, I am bare-toed.  I can't tolerate the thought of an unadorned surface, so for the past several years, I have painted my toenails.  As a man that paints his toenails, I believe that they should not be boring, run-of-the-mill, unadventurous colors.  90% of the paint jobs that hit my toenails also include a clear top coat that is packed with Martha Stewart Iridescent glitters, and most of my paint jobs also start with a very dark (usually black) base coat.

A few months back, as I was coloring my goatee with Just For Men (Jet Black), I noticed that, after-the-fact, I got a spot of color on one of my fingernails.  To prevent from staining areas of my face that I do NOT want to stain, I use a Q-tip dipped in a bit of mineral oil, and I apply it to my lips, areas around my beard line, etc, before I apply the color.  I often wear rubber gloves, or I coat my hands with mineral oil to keep my hands from becoming stained by the color.

I noted that, until it actually grew out, that stained spot on my fingernail never wore off or faded.

THE BRIGHT LIGHT FLICKERED ON IN MY HEAD!


Actually, all of my flashiness starts with a GOOD quality Revlon clear base coat:
    

Then.....I apply a base coat of (usually darker) color:  Metallic Denim blue, black, very dark blood-red, etc.

While I still use darker colors, the 'bright idea' moment was to use my hair color as nail color.

Remember:  This is a permanent color, and it absolutely will not come out of your nails until it grows out.  All the nail polish remover that is available to you on the planet won't take out that color!  Make sure you want it there - and on a very permanent basis!

Continuing....

I mixed a little hair color, and took a paint brush, and colored my toe nails with the hair color.  I let it sit for several minutes, then went to my shower and washed off the excess color.  VOILA!

I have permanently black colored toe nails.

If my tough little heart - 2 sizes too small! - decides to use only a top coat with the glitter, then this black base would save me from applying 2 additional coats (a good Revlon base coat and a color coat).  Not only does the permanent black coat save me time, but it cuts down on the bulky multiple layers that I wear on my nails on a regular basis.

I can elect to paint over the black with a normal color, if that is my mode at the moment, or I can use the black as my base color.  I love having flexibility!

_______________________________________

One of my favorite and frequent color combinations is a black base  coat, with the Iridescent green glitter on top, creating a pseudo - Sacred Scarab look:
At any rate, almost every one of my color combinations start with a very dark (usually black) color base coat.

Then, I apply a THICK coat of Revlon Top Coat, followed by dumping copious amounts of Martha Stewart Iridescent Glitter (I have all 18 colors!) on top.

I let this thick coat completely dry, and I take a relatively large paint brush and *gently* brush off the excess glitter.  To finish my 10 little masterpieces, I follow up with a couple thin coats of the same Revlon Top Coat to seal the glitter in.

Considering that I garden barefoot, and I honestly never wear shoes (I wear sandals year-round), I get a good 3 - 4 weeks, and sometimes longer, before I have to redo my nails.  I redo them because very rarely, ALL the polish will come off in one fell swoop, but most often, I need to redo my nails because they grow out.  I have been doing this procedure regularly for 5 years, and I don't think I have ever had a 'chipped' nail.

Breaking it down:

1) Every few months, I put the same hair color that I use on my beard on my toenails, for a permanent base color.

2) Apply a coat of Revlon Base Coat.  Let dry.

3) (optional)  Apply a coat of darker base color - blue, green, etc.  Let dry.

4) Individually, apply a THICK coat of Revlon Top Coat, and one nail at a time, (and holding your foot over a receptacle!), dump copious amounts of Martha Stewart Iridescent Glitter.  It's a smaller glitter with a finer texture.  Let dry.

5) With a soft paint brush, GENTLY brush off excess glitter.

6) Apply 1 - 2 more coats of Revlon Top Coat to seal in the glitter.  If you skip this step, you will shed Glitter all over your world, and you will find that your nails are rough, and they will snag your sheets, furniture coverings, socks, etc.

7)  You are free to roam about the cabin for a good 3+ weeks before you have to repeat this process.

If you're gonna decorate 'em - make 'em purty!

- Michael

"No, Maitre d'! I said "Well done" not "Medium rare!"

Even though I was going to school to be an LPN, I took several RN courses.  My Anatomy & Physiology was an RN course.

This class was divided into 2 parts:  A classroom and a lab portion.

I *horribly* flunked EVERY test I had in that the lab portion of that class (17 tests), and I flunked all but 2 tests in the classroom.  We had to learn the the function of EVERYTHING in the fricken human body - down to the cellular and chemical level.

We were graded on a curve. Several other students in this class kept telling me, "Stop it!  You're making the curve impossible for us to get a good grade.!"

Considering that I flunked (an F grade) 32 of 34 tests, I still managed to get out of that class with an "A".  Can you imagine the grades of the other students in that class?

The secret:  Until the last day of this class, not a single student knew that this instructor graded solely on your interest, your class participation - and your attendance.

(In the lab, 100% of our work during the entire semester was dissecting a CAT.  Yes, a 'meow!  meow!' cat!

This class (God forbid!) was "Anatomy & Physiology I", and it was a starting point for many types of degrees, including those going into medical law, PhD's, nursing, and much more.

A young lady, a pre-Med (PhD) student sat across the table from me in the lab.  On lab days, our class was 2 hours long.  Two hours of sniffing a formaldehyde-soaked cat.

The young lady that sat across from me seldom spoke.  She was very quiet, shy and demure.  She had long, flowing beautiful dark hair and she always wore tea-length skirts, heels, etc. I could tell that she 'came from money', and good money, at that.

After the first hour of every lab class, our instructor would come to each table and 'take our cat away' to his desk, grade our work (pins stuck strategically in important parts with labels stuck to each pin), and he would being our cat(s) back to our table so we could continue to work the the last hour of each class.


This was 'back in the day' when John Wood Community College was in the former and VERY brief Lincoln School, the old 'pod' building located at 48th & Maine Sts, Quincy, IL (now the home of The Crossing Church).  This original pod structure did not have windows that opened, and there was no way to circulate classroom air.

Mr. Instructor took Ms. Demure PhD Student's cat away, graded it, and brought the poor thing back to her.  He plopped the dissection pan down in front of her.  With a very uncharacteristic cackling laugh, she suddenly threw her head back, letting her long hair swirl out of her eyes.

Then she told him, with a delightful squeal, "No, Maitre d'   I said "Well done" not "Medium rare!"

I fell off my lab stool, and I honestly was in a tight ball on the floor, laughing until I thought I was going to wet myself.

The instructor suddenly turned on his heel, got the attention of the entire class, and said, "That's it! From this point on out, we will take a 10 minute break OUTSIDE so you won't loose any more brain cells to the formaldehyde fumes!"

- Michael