Thursday, March 30, 2006

81. The End of Raven Symone

I am done talking about Raven Symone--well--after this post anyway. A few weeks ago, I documented my one-thousanth (1000th) visitor. Nine (9) days later I logged 240 new visitors, most of whom were using google to search the term "Raven Symone Pregnant." Because of my earlier posts about Raven, my blog started to become a hot commodity among preteens and sick adults.

If your click here, you will find that I am seventh (7th) on google's list using the search term Raven Symone Pregnant. I was as high as fourth (4th), but people are starting to get wise to stupidramblings. You will also see in the google search that it says "Raven Symone is pregnant" right there in the synopsis of stupidramblings. Maybe I can gain a whole new generation of searchers. The following paragraph is an attempt to do just that.

I would like to add my thoughts about the American Idol contestants, Beyonce agrees to appear in next Harry Potter movie, and Hillary Duff has a new boyfriend.

The preceding search terms are not necessarily accurate.

I delight in the disillusionmentation of our teen- and tween-age friends who have visited my site. That'll teach 'em to mind their own business.

And get off my lawn...

**Later** Now if you click the google link, I am on the second page. IN ONE DAY! oh well, the crux of it is I was on top of the world for a while. **Update** I have already been found 3 times by people searching for Hillary Duff and her new boyfriend. Good times.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

80. (He’s the one you call) Doctor Feel Good

Yesterday my wife Limpy and I took the unborn my L’il Kid-neyramblings to meet the doctor again. This is our second visit to Doctor Feel Good since the pregnancy and we usually think he’s marvelous.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, the DFG used the blue jelly and machine thingy to find the little guy’s (my L’il Kid-neyramblings shall be known as ‘he’ until ‘he’ proves to be a ‘she’) heartbeat and amplify it for us to listen to. The little nipper seems to be growing well, as evidenced by the Olympic size kicks to the abdomen of my wife Limpy. Indeed a 4-month-old should not be as strong as that, but whadyagonnado when the child comes from superior genes. **interesting side note: we’re hoping for a 13 pounder**

Anyhoo, DFG found the little heartbeat which has slowed to 140 BPM since last visit when he was at 160. We then started talking about heartbeat speeds.

(Disclaimer: sensitive readers may be bothered by the following content; reader discretion is advised.)

DFG told us that when you check for the heartbeat, the heart rate goes up initially and then levels off.

Me: why?

DFG: It’s the sound made by this ultrasonic device here.

Me: The Baby can hear it?

DFG: Yeah, it startles them initially and the heart rate goes up for a few minutes.

Me: Then why can’t we hear it—I mean—because we have more developed ears than the fetus’s, and we should be able to hear it too, right? Because—well—if it’s making a sound a baby can hear FROM INSIDE THE WOMB, we should have no problem hearing it too, unless we are all in a vacuum with no air to carry the sound waves.

DFG: You’re right. I always thought it was the sound, but maybe it’s not.

Me: Because ‘ultrasonic’ means only dogs and some teenage girls should be able to hear it.

DFG: yes.

Disturbing? Yes. Why?

I was having a hard time falling asleep last night. I didn’t know why, but usually insomnia hits me when I have an idea or when I have a problem that needs a solution or when I have a worry. When I finally realized what my problem was, I was mortified. My doctor—the one who is supposed to keep my wife Limpy healthy and deliver a superbaby—doesn’t even know how the medical equipment works. Maybe he is prone to believe technology runs on magic or maybe he didn’t get the best marks in med school, but I’d think he would know how the ultrasound works.

Once I figured out why I was worried, I slept like a baby. My biggest fear? That DFG—the guy on whom I rely to help my family survive—doesn’t know much. Do you really want your yearly exam from someone who supposes and guesses or ‘has always thought’ certain things are true when they are not?

My foundation is built on sand apparently (On what? Built on Sand?). At least now I have another good reason why we were right not to sign the near-mandatory arbitration agreement the clinic pushed in front of us.

Monday, March 20, 2006

79. Hollywood! Da da da DA DA, Hollywood!

I'm on vacation with my wife Limpy. I won't post much, because I don't have much time.

I will say this: the Hollywood walk of stars was better than I expected. There are a lot of people on that walk that have done noteworthy things in entertainment, but three entertainers stood out. Look on (and click on the photo to see the full size image):

Oh, and I came within feet of a cheetah!

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

78. Oh. My. Hack!

Have I mentioned I like people who are better than me at art, music, acting, etc?

Imagine an artist that has been known to draw near-perfect circles on cement using sidewalk chalk. Now imagine that these near perfect circles are ten feet (10’) in diameter. Next, picture the artist drawing 40-60 identical houses all around the outline of the circle as if it was a picture of some faraway world with really big houses. Imagine: Each house has a door, a window, a chimney and smoke. Some of the doors are on the left of the window and some are on the right. Each house is a different sidewalk-chalk color.

Did I mention the artist is three (3) years old?

No I didn’t because I wanted you do draw your best mental picture of how this drawing (mural) should have looked and then tell you he was three (3) at the time.

My pals Rhodeshack and Mrs. Hack (she needs a name—come on people!) live in CA and their son, Littlehack constantly amazes me with his artistic ability. In fact, I like him because he is better than me at art (see paragraph one (1)). I got a chance to visit the Hacks this Christmas. I’ve been trying to procure drawings from Littlehack, now four (4), so I could post them here on my blog. I finally have them for you. Littlehack made a series of Christmas drawings on white paper. Then he decided to cut them out using scissors. Remember, he’s four (4).

Below you will find some of littlehack’s drawings. They were in the garbage last Christmas after he accidentally cut through Rudolph’s leg. Apparently a slight gash in Rudolph’ otherwise perfect frame was enough to render the whole project useless, so he threw ALL the drawings away.

Admire, and click on the picture to see it in greater detail:
A gift. Notice he "weaved" the ribbons covering the wrapping paper.
Rudolph and a candy cane. He took great care to cut out the antlers.
Santa on his sled. He even got the bag of toys and the reigns in there.
Frosty and Santa.
A tree complete with mulit-colored ornaments.

All images copyright (c) 2005 Littlehack...

Monday, March 13, 2006

77. Catch Phrase

Last night while playing 'Catch Phrase' with friends, the following things were said:

One person just read the answers out loud. I guess they were expecting us to shout out the clues...

Alexander Graham Bell invented the...


The tube that connects your ear to your throat...

[The answer was Erie Canal]

Thursday, March 09, 2006

76. From Grace to Never

From the title, you may think this post about religion and my impending resignation to burn in the fiery pit, but I’m talking about ‘lands.’ As in ‘Neverland Ranch’ and ‘Graceland.’

That’s right Elvis and Jacko are our kings of weirdos.

Here’s what I know. Elvis and Jacko were/are both:

Extremely sensitive
Very misunderstood and
Married to people whose last names are Pressley

This week I was privileged to tour Graceland mansion—Elvis’s shag-n-velour haven for not-so-tasteful decorating. I’ve heard many rumors as to Graceland’s oddball d├ęcor and Elvis’s fascination with making sure everyone who would enter the mansion would be made to feel very uncomfortable. I imagine a kidnapper’s house would be similarly decorated.

In style and feel, Graceland was a good cross between Scooby-Doo’s Mystery Machine and grandma’s house. It had all the personality of a troubled man, combined with the slight odor associated with mothballs, talcum and food stored in the oven because there is no room in the fridge. The decorations were both A) tasteless and B) revolting. I imagine Elvis’s guests would have had a constant and strong urge to A) wash their hands and B) scream ‘fire’ so they could look normal as they ran from the building and across the street to the Elvis gift shop.

It appears Michael Jackson is trying to outdo Elvis in his quest to be odd. MJ wins.

In reality, Graceland was not as bad as I had imagined. Based on the descriptions I had heard from other people I expected to be completely revolted. As it was, I only vomited twice. Below are some of my favorite pictures of the mess.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

75. I'm a Millenarian

1000 unique visitors to my blog. Thank you Raven Symone; It’s a milestone. Although, it may have been weeks ago when I actually reached 1000; my web counter was down for weeks. (They were trying to make their free service better, so I can forgive them—but I won’t forget…)

Anyway, it seems like it was just yesterday when Cicada was telling me how to make my blog attractive and comment worthy to other blog writers. It seems like just last week when I was first confused by one of th.’s comments. Not far gone are the days when Miss Nemesis would participate actively in my blog, but she went out ‘n’ got ‘erself an edumacation and I understand her busy-ness. I can tell she’s at least reading by looking at my visitors’s’s stats.

So what will the next 1000 visitors see? The birth of my l’il Kid-neyramblings? My Elvis-like demise on my upstairs bathroom toilet? My acceptance into the Mensa society?

Who knows? What I DO know is I am enjoying the process. No. Really. I’m not writing for nothing, you know, and since I can count on 5-10 of you showing up every day, I am satisfied. (Also bringing me satisfaction: fruit snacks, expensive import olives, and butterfly kisses.)

Next blog: look for my synopsis of my Graceland mansion tour…

Monday, March 06, 2006

74. A Brush With Greatness

Fate has a funny way of bringing people together.

And if you are thinking the previous statement has to do with me running into famous people today, you’d be right. The following stories may or may not be true:

The Coats—previously known as The Trenchcoats before thousands of hateful people barraged their website after Columbine—are an a cappella group out of Seattle. I hadn’t heard them sing in a while, but they are some of the most professional entertainers in the business. Their shows are always top-notch; check to see if they’ll be performing near you anytime soon by clicking here.

Anyway, The Coats were walking together through the airport in Phoenix this morning when I spotted them. I had no choice but to make a fool out of myself and play superfan for a few minutes. With a blog to write, how could I pass up the opportunity?

“Keith, Keith!” I said. (Keith is their phenomenal tenor.)


“I’ve met you guys a few times when you performed during my college days. [true statement, but I didn’t tell them where I met them]”

“Really? Where was that?”

At this point, I was going to play the fool to see how they would react, but they were so genuinely nice that I couldn’t bring myself to be a dork—professionals on and off the stage. Again, if you ever get a chance to see them perform, they are worth it.

Fortunately I got enough blog material because of one Dustin Diamond—previously known as Screech from “Saved by the Bell”—who was on my flight this morning. I would have enjoyed playing the fool with him, but I saw how he kicked butt on celebrity boxing. So I just watched him. I didn’t see anything abnormal or Screech-like, but here’s what I DID notice:
• He flew coach. He was two rows ahead of me at the window in the back of the plane.
• He still sports the coif of curly, black hair, but he has added a distinguished beard.
• He didn’t give up his seat to a girl who wanted to sit with her sister. (I can’t blame him on this one; the seat he would have traded for was neighbored by behemoth-man Jack.) I say if you want to sit with your sibling, or if you want the window, book earlier. That’s what I say. Oh, and if you want to improve your chances of having your way and sitting with you sister, ask the big guy to move—not the former child star whom you don’t recognize because you are too young.
• He is just like me. I don’t mean we are similar, but we enjoy the same things—arriving at the airport at the same time, standing in insane-long security lines, flying coach, sprite, reading the same flight-information screens to see where to move next, moving walkways, staring awkwardly at celebrities—you know, the usual stuff.
• He sports a leather jacket.
• He seems like a generally happy person even on a 7:00 am flight.

I would have liked to see him go “Screech” and be a dork for my personal amusement, but my dream would remain unfulfilled. Just as we entered the same moving walkway, I was about to say something, but he did something repulsive. He stood there. I can overlook a lot of things, but I can’t respect a man who doesn’t use the moving walkway to walk real fast. Speed walking is what moving walkways are made for.

In the future, when anyone mentions Screech, tell them what he stands for.

Moving walkways.

And what does all this have to do with fate? I booked flights at different times through different airports on a different airline. Without the booking error that occured (not mine), I wouldn't have a blog today.