12 posts tagged “funny”
In the beginning, I promised a few things to you. One of those things was not to talk electronics and/or how cool the Internet was. One of the other things was that I wouldn't talk politics.
Forgive as I (sort of) break that promise. Instead of spouting off about my beliefs and then attack anyone disagreeing with my beliefs, I would rather recount a recent conversation I had with my children (cue the "Kids Say the Darnedest Things" theme music):
Me: So, who do you guys think is going to be our next president?
Tobias: I vote for "Mummy Returns".
Daisy: I vote for "Mamma Mia" even though the boys are ugly.
Me: No, the President of the United States.
Tobias: Is Hilary Clinton still running?
Daisy: I think John McCain thinks he's old.
Me: Well, he is old.
Daisy: Not that, dad. I think he has old ideas. He thinks "like" an old person.
Tobias: I like Barack Obama.
Daisy: Yeah, me too.
Tobias: He can do stuff.
Daisy: I bet he likes trees.
Me: What kinds of things do you think he can do?
Tobias: He could probably bring a Whole Foods to Shreveport. If he wanted to.
Me: That'd be cool.
Daisy: He also likes Miley Cyrus. At least that's what I heard.
Me: That would probably keep me from voting for him.
Tobias: I bet he like scary movies like "The Mummy Returns."
Daisy: I bet he likes "Mamma Mia." But the boys are ugly. Did I already tell you that?
Dear Greg,
Why haven't you been writing in your blog? I have been visiting it for a long time and look forward to your posts. Why haven't we heard from you?
E. J.
Dear E.J.,
Wow. Thanks for your note. In all honesty, it has been sooooo hot here in Louisiana that I've found it hard to muster the creative energy to come up with writings that live up to the standards I have put on myself. As a result, you probably won't hear from me until the temperature drops (or they fix the air conditioner in my house, whichever comes first).
GK
Dear Gregory,
I'm checking out your blog and find you haven't posted. What's up with that?
Best,
G. Y.
Hey G.Y.,
Gosh, your guess is as good as mine. "What is up with that?" I ask myself that so much that I find that it keeps me from being able to do much else. Hopefully, soon, this question will leave my internal dialogue and I will be able to get back to doing more important things (i.e. regularly bathing, writing, etc.).
Your Pal,
Gregory
G,
What up? Me so lonely for your posts. Yo 'dog what don't you get off yo ass and give the peeps what we want. Bring it back. Peace.
O.G.B.
O.G.B.,
I tried to put your note in Babelfish and it can't seem to translate. Can you write back? If this is about the lack of postings on my blog, I think I can explain. Ever since the "near death" experience, I've had trouble writing. All I can see are the flames from the bus and the children screaming. Sure, I got them all out, but the horror of it all, the horror of it all... please forgive me, I need a moment.
Yeah, it's that bad,
G
Dear Greg,
I'm a very reputable banker from Nigeria who has inadvertently placed $167,001,763.87 in a locked safety deposit in a EU country with strict withdrawal laws. All I need you to do is send me your passport, $217,987.16 in small bills and a credit card number (for unforeseen expenses). In return, I will give you all the money and an additional $314,169.18 (for your troubles). If this sounds interesting, write me back as soon as you are able.
Warmest regards,
F.V.
F.V.,
Will you leave me the hell alone? I know you are missing my posts. WE ARE ALL MISSING THEM. I just can't produce like I was. What does this mean? I don't know, but -- I can guarantee -- your badgering me isn't going to make the magic return any faster. I do appreciate the attentiveness and the constant barrage of notes. I promise you will be one of the first to know when I return to writing.
Best,
GK
PS - Sorry for the tone. I was a bit frustrated when writing this note. Oh, and I went ahead and sent that check you needed.
------------------
Wow. I think it just came back to me. I think I'm back! Your notes and letters have nursed my muse back to health. You've set my song bird aflight. Thank you. Thank you. A thousand times: Thanks! Now... if I could just figure out why I'm overdrawn.
I find the utilizing of other people's material like cheating. It makes me sick with rage when I see bloggers depending on other people's creative output like a crutch!
Thinking about the statement above, it might be based in pure jealousy (no, it's definitely based in jealousy). In short, I've always wanted to be the one people cribbed off of. Not that I want to be the lightsabre guy or the "Numa Numa" guy, it's just I want to be loved like I've grown to love the guy who made this film.
It's funny, really funny. Enjoy and forward along as much as you like. If nothing else, I can help realize the broadcast dreams of the creators of this piece and maybe live vicariously through its passing along.
What happens to a gentle soul when it is confronted with a terrible choice? What you do if the choice was to save yourself or take away the life of an "innocent" life?
David A. is a friend from Austin who embodies all that the liberal city stands for. He and I used to talk about how to make the world a better place and why John Lennon was right (especially in the "Imagine" song). He used to call me to tell me (excitedly!) that the bluebonnets were blooming or that Amy's ice cream (finally!) had pumpkin pie ice cream. We would sit at the Amy's on Guadalupe, eating our pumpkin ice cream, and discuss profound issues that concerned the world:
David: Gregory, what do you think the world would be like if we took away all the bombs and guns and other thing that could hurt people?
[Silence]
Gregory (me): Gee David, that would be awesome.
[Slience, except for the sound of eating]
David: Yeah, it would. It would be awesome.
Then, it happened. David was searching the Florida swamps for rare orchids. He belongs to a group call "Pax Orchid De Facto" that saves the rare flowers for the future generations. He was picking a beautiful Hammer Orchid when he heard a rustling in the saw grass.
It was a fourteen alligator and it had its hungry eyes on David. The enormous animal moved towards David. It was clear that "flight" was not an option. "Easy there fella," David said. "I don't want to hurt you." He moved and the reptile followed accordingly. David surmised that there was only one option. Closing his eyes, he said a little prayer to mother earth and apologized for what he had to do.
The next few minutes were a series of roars, grunts and thrashing in the water. The gator flipping to the top and back down the to the bottom and back up again. Then, there was silence. And after the silence, weeping. David was weeping for the life he took. I share this picture with you in honor of David and this majestic animal.
EDITOR'S NOTE: Please go back and read this again. This time, please acknowledge the fact that David A. is an avid hunter. Also, the only thing he has ever done in the bluebonnets is lie waiting for some innocent deer to approach, so he could eat raw backstrap off the animal's warm carcass. I would have no doubt that David probably killed this alligator with his own hands. He is a man's man, and I'm gleefully awaiting my gator belt.
Something is happening to the children. An evil influence. The black veil has been pulled over the little ones. A veil called "summer."
During the school year, both kids had structure around them. This created strong, able little citizens that understood the idea of going to school and the privileges of doing well in life. There were time restraints. We would try to get them into bed by 9pm and out of bed by 7am. There were duties. We came home to do our homework or spent the hours after school doing activities and sports (with expectations that our children will become professional dancers and/or baseball players).
Then summer came. With it, I've seen a frightening fraying of the school year's sense of order. In the Kallenberg household, it's been like watching "Lord of the Flies." T and D have gone from bright-eyed little rule-followers to dirty little natives with a keen sense of "survival of the fittest" and how flexible their non-violent, coddling parents can be.
The kids started going to bed later and this sparked midnight conversations based around how "school sucked" or why "that kid is a crap head." This devolved into Daisy listening to Hannah Montana really loud and finding Tobias spending his summer reading time "learning about life by using my Wii." Now, the kids have started to dictate that every other night is "pizza and ice cream night." The nights in between those nights have been reserved for "watching PG-13 movies and drinking Coke Zero."
What next? Who knows. The summer is just beginning. All I know is that both kids have taken to Googling things like: "Anarchy Johnny Rotten How", "Martial Arts Fatal Self Defense Parents Bossiness", "The Who Teenage Wasteland" and "Endless Summer Surfing Babes." As they further descend into the orderless chaos of the season, I'll keep you posted. Until then, pray for us.
For those of you traveling in Europe, Brazil and/or the Middle East, it's old news that "Eating Levi" can be found on television (usually playing somewhere between the Ronco apple peel-o-matic and Juiceman's "Juicebox Hero" video).
For those of us stateside, it might surprise and delight you that, when taking your vacation abroad, there is an alternative on cable and pay-per-view aside from the adult films on Spectravision. Below, please find a glowing review from the Jerusalem Post. At least, that's what our distributor told me. It could actually be a terrible review, or worse, this could be a story about Levi Oliver and his attempt to go over and start a tamale business.
For purposes of this entry, let's stick to "glowing review."
1) The humidity gauge starts at 83%.
2) The temperature gauge starts at 91 degrees.
3) Monster trucks are ubiquitous.
4) All of the above.
Sugar. Just the word inspires glee, fear, happiness and angst. The joy of a Spree as it hits the mouth. The frightful moment we hit the scale to see if the "Sugar Busters" diet is working. The panic of counting carbs when the dessert cart rolls by. The ecstasy of a really good piece of chocolate.
All of this drama over sugar is lost on anyone under the age of 10 and Tobias, who just turned 9, stands as a testament to that. To his demographic, sugar is an essential part of his being. It's not something to consider as good or bad. It's just there, like air or art or literature -- a gift of the muses. To him, sugar is "Walden" and he is Emerson.
That being his attitude, you can imagine what birthdays are like in this household. This particular birthday was especially obscene and offered three individual cakes. Here is a look at a boy's love for sugar and his meeting with his three birthday cakes.
The first cake served was an ice cream cake. This was an interesting choice given the fact that we had invited four of T's amigos and given them Dr. Pepper and Nerf guns to get them started. Aside from the impending super-collider of young testosterone, just looking at the chocolate mint cake and its bright, bright green glow brought back memories of my own, high fructose past. Raise your hands if you remember the first ice cream cake you ever had? It was like a miracle of nature -- a gift from the Gods. For years I wondered why the person, nay, the genius, who invented ice cream combined with cake wasn't awarded a Nobel prize. By the way, Tobias' reaction to this was elation.
Our house is not one without tradition. It is a birthday tradition for Heidi break out the witchcraft and create a cake soooooooooo chocolate-y, that it automatically adjusts brain chemicals from bitchy to normal. This is a chocolate cake so rich in antioxidants, it is called a superfood. As Tobias saw it, there was only one problem: There wasn't enough sugar. As a result, Tobias convinced his mother to desecrate this shrine to cacao's healing power and place Reese's peanut butter cups around the cake. Despite this act of sacrilege, we woke up the next morning to a line of menstruating women in our front yard begging for a piece. Tobias, being the rule follower that he is, took his place at the end of the line.
Cake #3: The Cheesecake
At this point, any other sane parent would be done with the cakes. Enough, says the sane parent, two cakes is enough! Not so, says the Heidster. Her Jewish/Catholic background is all about overindulgence (and guilt, but's another story). Not only that, she justifies in her mind, I have yet to deliver the "healthy" cake. That's where the last baked confection comes in. This cake would feature sugar, but it would also herald the important parts of the food pyramid. In this case, the cake needed: bread, milk, protein, fruit. There was only one way to turn: cheesecake. I'm sure I don't need a nutritionist to tell you that a cheesecake has it all. Eggs, protein-rich cream cheese, graham cracker crust, and vitamin C rich fruit on top. This is a veritable breakfast of champions. Tobias dug into this cake and, because of the nutrition surge, grew an inch and a half and now can bench press another 27 pounds.
There you have it, Tobias and his three cakes. But the real proof of the boys enjoyment can be had in a simple image:
... This just in!
From the Kantrows (supposedly, they are following up this E-mail with a drawing for a small pair of alligator boots):
As we were winding (or, like lampton,whizzing) around the golf course this lovely evening, we came upon this young boy fishing with his grampa. They had snared this little fella, so ted jumped out the cart and came to the rescue. He got down on his belly, reached below the surface and behold! A fine specimen! I think his size even surprised the local alligator wrangler. Coincidentally, I think the young man's name is hunter.
There are very few that I trust to help shape my musical tastes -- which tilt more towards indie rock. You see, I'm a total music snob and, wrong as it is, think that I know something about the Indie scene and its players. I don't trust others and take almost every opportunity I can to demean those who try to send me recommendations.
I think this stems from an instance from my youth where I was told by friend/prankster/bastard that WHAM! was a ska/punk/badass offshoot of The Damned. Trying to look cool, I took a copy of the tape "Make it Big" (yes, it was a cassette tape) and cranked it up in front of a girl I had a crush on. Imagine my surprise/shock/horror as the first cut, "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" came blaring through my parents' beige stationwagon speakers.
This fateful event is revisited anytime anyone has the inclination to try to inform me about music. As a result, I acted like an ass to friend/all around nice guy/music fiend Andy Bowman when he tried to cajole me into going to the Nada Surf show at SXSW. "You're going where?" I taunted. "Haven't they had songs on the OC soundtrack? Or did I hear their latest single on a Target commercial? Why don't you go to their show by yourself. I get uncomfortable hanging out with crying teenage girls waving lighters."
Sure, it was harsh. Sure I felt bad as Andy slid away into the night, heading headlong towards the Nada Surf show. But can you blame me? How cool is a band that poses like this:
When I got home, I was downloading music for the Best of SXSW CD and happened upon Nada Surf. The intention was to publish Andy's idea of "good music "and then crush that idea under the jackboot of my own superior musical intellect.
[Here is where I start to try to apologize] I started with the 30 second intros of their songs. It was kind of like my first taste of bleu cheese -- strong, not really my taste, but not bad. Parts of their music were sugary sweet and parts pretty complex. Pretty good for a band that I assumed to be best matched with a caramel macchiato at Starbuck's -- there I go again, note self: cut it out. This was one of the first full cuts I dove into:
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