Oldest Footprint

AOL dot com ran a cover news story yesterday titled "Oldest Human Footprints Found". It had the photo above next to the headline. It grabbed my attention and I thought I'd be reading a fascinating story about a human footstep that was dated at about 1.5 million years. Come to find out that the real story was about a 140 year old guy from a nursing home in New Jersey who had wondered off in a demented state. The authorities were able to find him by following his footprints in the mud outside the nursing home.

Well, Governor

There are a few pundits out there these days that are speculating that the Governor of Louisiana wants to run for president of the United States of America. He would then join the ranks of other nicknamed presidents like, George "The Father of His Country" Washington, Thomas "The Sage of Monticello" Jefferson, Abraham "Honest Abe" Lincoln, Richard "Tricky Dick" Nixon, Bill "Slick Willy" Clinton and George "Dubya" Bush. What would be a good nickname for our friend, the governor? Bobby "Catfish" Jindal has a nice ring. I wonder what Jim Hunter would say about that?

Winners at the Golf Outing

Company golf outings are a great place to meet and socialize with your colleagues, especially if you work out of the office at a customer location. It's pretty hard to impress your bosses if they never see you. Actually, you can be more productive without meddling from the boss, which is a good thing, but that's another story. I went to my company's golf outing last summer so as not to be completely invisible and possibly score some points in case there is a need to choose new sides in the proverbial corporate baseball game.

The event was a round of scramble golf with adult beverages and snacks at strategic points along the course followed by a lunch, management doublespeak and door prizes. This was the event where I got to break bread with my new Gymboree buddies, Jim and Russ. The day was hot and eighteen holes of golf had taken their toll on me. By the time I had a couple beers and a bite to eat, I was practically sleeping sitting up. Not to miss out on the prizes, I gave my ticket to one of the guys at my table and asked him to collect my prize, should my number come up. It was a long drive home.

I had almost forgotten that I was in the running for a door prize until my friend called me to tell me that I had won a Detroit Redwings T-shirt. I had seen the shirt on the prize table and thought to myself that it was better than a sharp stick in the eye. He would come down and drop it off to me later in the week. While we were chatting he told me that he had also won a door prize. His prize was not a Redwings T-shirt but four box seat tickets to a Detroit Tigers game at Comerica Park....... and a parking pass. How lucky could he get? What are the odds that he was holding two tickets and his was the one that won one of the big prizes? :)

A Tasty Oscar

A. R. Rahman won an Oscar for Best Original Music Score for "Slumdog Millionaire". Word is that the music was great, but I like his noodles. They go great as a side dish in meat entrées and I ate a lot of them when I was in college.

Hard Times and Thrift

You can't go anywhere lately without hearing or seeing some news about our broken economy. Hard times are starting to hit close to home and seems to be spreading. One of my friends told me yesterday that thrift is becoming more in fashion around his house. He told me he finds himself reusing sandwich bags, which he'd never done before. That's probably a good idea unless you've already used it to pick up pet droppings.

Thanks to blogger EUREKA POZ for the image.

Ransacked

I came home once and discovered that someone had come into my home and stole some money and jewelry from my bedroom. I called the police and when they arrived I let them in through my kitchen. They said, "wow, this is worse than I thought. They completely ransacked the place". I said, "no officer, I discovered the missing items while looking for my cuff links".

Super

I'm ready for the big game today. Are you?

A Special Christmas Wish

I watched Christmas Vacation today and was reminded of one of the best movie quotes, ever. Consider this my special Christmas card to the blogosphere.

Christmas Memories

Today is the last day of work for me before the holidays. The guys I work with have a tradition of having a White Castle slider-fest breakfast on the last day of work for the year. This year was no exception, only it brought back some painful memories for me. You see, last year I spent Christmas day and the next ten days in the hospital for an appendectomy and other complications. The guys reminded me of the event and suggested that maybe it was the sliders that induced the appendix attack. That would explain a lot. I remember the surgeon telling me after the operation that they found something lodged in my appendix. He wasn't sure what it was but it smelled like onions and cardboard.

I did lose twenty pounds last year while I was in the hospital. Unfortunately, I think I've gained forty of it back this past year.

Happy Holidays to One and All!!!!

So that's how they do that..........

If you're like me you get a letter, almost daily, from some barrister in some west African country trying to make contact with me so that he can give me some inheritance from some relative I'm not really sure I have and that if he can't make payment to me the money will be lost. These notes are, to say the least, very suspect as to their legitimacy. I have recently discovered, however, that these emails are part of a program to give poor children around the world a personal computer so that they can communicate with the world at large. It's called the xo-laptop program. Their local government came up with the idea to randomly send emails out to people in the first world as a way for these school children to practice their foreign language and typing skills.

So the next time you get one of these emails, please reply. These children need your support so they can learn about the world. Heck, use some of the inheritance money to buy a bunch of these xo-laptops for other children.

Good Dad

My son Joe, the future doctor, has use of my Oldsmobile Alero whilst he is away at school. He mainly uses it to bring his laundry home on the weekends or to drive his girl friend to and from work or the occasional road trip to party with his high school posse at any number of college campuses throughout the Great Lakes region. Fortunately for him, but unfortunate for me, he pays more attention to his studies than he does to the upkeep of the car. Yes, it's broken and the repair bill is more than the value of the car. Ouch.

The Plan B for family transportation, and I hope it's temporary, is to let him use my Passat and for me to borrow my mother's 1996 Buick Roadmaster, like the one in the picture above. I know that it's a parent's duty to make sacrifices for the benefit of their children, but I'm thinking that this blow to my image (self image that is) may be too much for me to endure. With the Passat I could delude myself into thinking that I am sporty, green, fuel efficient and somewhat hip; hey, it's my delusion. Now, I'm that grumpy gray haired dude blocking traffic in the grocery store parking lot. I feel the urge to only drive while wearing a gingham fedora, hands fixed at the ten and two position. Next thing you know, people will tell me I smell funny. Let me stop writing and start working on a plan that fixes my image problem.

Dave, I used the word whilst and I could have used it twice. It's my British heritage :)

Where do they come from?

It never fails. Whenever I get in line at a cashier stand, they are always there. That person, with a big floppy purse with three or four wallets inside, all with coin carriers. That person who fumbles to find exact change amongst the litter, random packs of gum, paper clips, lipstick and other sundries. You'd think they were giving something away or offering a discount for having exact change, but they're not. That person always seems to have more than enough time to make small talk with the cashier, about the crowds or their pets or the kids or just about anything; oblivious to the mounting throngs of impatient customers backing up behind them; me included. These same people, I know for fact, never make eye contact with anyone when they're out in public and go out of their way to go out of their way to avoid strangers, but are as friendly as can be when I'm in a hurry to make my purchase, place my order or get some help. They come in all ages too. I thought that maybe just the older ones have this strange social ritual, but I've discovered that that is a misguided assumption.

Do you know anyone like this?

Irritated Sclera

I had a bad case of blood shot eye the other day. One of my friends accused me of smoking pot. I told him it was my alergies. He said, "what are you alergic to?" I said, "pot".

Artie Lang

I heard Artie Lang on a radio interview today talking about his life. I thought it was interesting when he said, "the only difference between being on the Howard Stern Show and being in therapy is that the therapist isn't playing a fart machine while I'm talking".

Too Close for Comfort

I went for a drive in the rain today. Some guy was driving too fast for the conditions and partially slid through a stop sign and nearly hit me. As I watched the scene in what seemed like slow motion my life flashed before my eyes. When it was all over I couldn't stop thinking, "I need to get a new couch."

Vegetarians

Somebody told me that all vegetarians have cats. I thought about that and realized that it was true for all the vegetarian folks I know; the Hindu guy at work; a lady from the neighborhood and at least one of the readers in my blogosphere. The disposition goes like this; I can't cause harm to an animal so I won't eat them, but Mr. Mephistopheles loves his giblets.

I have two beautiful cats. Wonder if I'm a vegetarian and just don't know it?

Cherries Jubilee

There's never a dull moment when me and the boys go out for our team lunch on Thursdays. Yesterday was no exception. Some of the boys are finicky eaters so our selection of restaurants are dwindling. Yesterday I convinced them to have lunch at the local community college's culinary arts restaurant. The food was great even though the service was bad. The program requires that the future cooks and chefs work in the front of the house to learn about customer service.

One of the guys had Fettuccine Alfredo. Another had broiled sword fish. I had Stromboli and the last guy had broiled sea bass. It was a mini celebration. I felt so good that I ordered Cherries Jubilee for the three of us that had room. That turned out to be an adventure.

Scott, our waiter, who was described as one of the best "broiler men" around, was a little awkward with the table side service. Not to worry. The kitchen instructor was there every step of the way, walking him through the process. We watched amused as they performed each step; turn on the gas; press the ignitor; adjust the flame; place the pan over the flame; drop in the pre-measured black cherries in syrup; add kirsch wasser, rum and a high proof liqueur of unknown origin and POOF! we had a sizzling, sugary and flaming delight.

This delicious smelling mix was spooned over buttery looking French vanilla ice cream and topped with fresh whipped cream squeezed straight from a piping bag. My friends had never experienced such a dessert before. Mike said, "wow Dennis, this is wonderful". "What type of fruit is this?"

There She Is, Miss Americaaaaaaa

A funny thing happened to me on a trip to Las Vegas once. It's not the typical, "I got propositioned by a prostitute of nebulous gender" story. This actually happened on the plane on the way there.

I had already taken my seat on the aisle. The middle and window seats were not yet occupied and I was fidgeting and watching people as they are herded onto to plane. Suddenly, from the entrance came two strikingly attractive women. One was a thin, dark haired woman, who was being trailed by a very tall blond. I remember thinking to myself, "I hope they sit in my row". You should have seen me beam when they stopped and excused themselves as they slid into the seats next to me. The blond took the window seat and her older friend sat next to me.

Before long we were at cruising altitude and I could now open my eyes and release the vice like grip I had on my arm rests. In those days I was a curious lad and the ladies next to me had my full attention. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the blond preparing herself for the three hour trip as the color returned to my knuckles. She had a writing pad, a pen, a pair of reading glasses, a tennis ball on a stick and a small shoe box filled to the top with letters.

The woman next to me was sizing me up as much as I was sizing up the blond. She seemed interested in me, but in an unusual way. It's not like she wanted to know anything about me, but wanted to get my attention, as if to coax me into interrogating her. I couldn't resist. Pointing in the direction of the blond as she read, and replied to, her stack of letters I said, "your friend must be very important". With a huge and prideful smile she turned to me, looked me in the eye and said, "she's my daughter and she IS very important". Now she had me. "We're on our way to Las Vegas on business", she went on.

The blond woman had seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I just couldn't place her. "Your daughter does look familiar to me", I said, "but please forgive me if I don't know her name". "She's Phyllis George and we're on our way to Las Vegas for the Miss America Pageant". Well I'll be darned, it was indeed Phyllis George. I had seen her nearly every week those day because she was on one of the Sunday NFL football shows.

Now that the ice was broken all three of us were able to let our collective hairs down and exchange some small talk. We talked about what we planned to do in Las Vegas while we were there. I was meeting my sisters there for a little gambling R&R and they were.........well you already know. I was surprised to discover that this was only Ms. George and her mother's second trip to Vegas. Their first trip was just one year earlier.

They seemed genuinely interested in hearing my plans. Of course I had to let them know that I was an experienced gambler. After all, this was at least my third visit to sin city and I had recently gone on a weekend junket to Atlantic City. I was on a roll with my story. Jaws flapping and brain disengaged. The words were already floating through the air when I heard myself ask, "have you ever been to Atlantic City?" Arrrggghhhhh! I had just asked Miss America if she'd ever been to Atlantic City! They chuckled and reminded me that Atlantic City had been the perennial venue for the pageant but had just been moved the previous year.

They forgave me for my blunder and we were able to move on to new topics. They told me that the tennis ball on a stick was a gadget she used to relieve muscle tension. She would hold the handle and bounce the ball on her neck and shoulders. She demonstrated the technique on me and now I can truly say that I've been beaten about the neck and shoulders by Miss America.

Election Day

Today is election. It's been a long campaign and I was excited to get out of bed early this more and go pull the handle for my candidate. Then after I did that, I went and voted.

Cultural Exchange

One of the guys I work with is from India. He's very interested in American culture and is eager to share Indian tradition with the team. As a matter of fact, he has an arranged marriage, which is not uncommon in his culture. Modesty and prudence is a hallmark of Indian culture. I remember him telling me that, "I waited until after I was married to have sex with my wife". "How about you?" he asked. I said, "I don't know. What's her name?"

New Air Freshener

I got myself a new air freshener for my car. I love the pine fresh scent and all the very best parking spaces seem to be available now.

The new phone books are here, the new phone books are here!!

I'm a recently published photographer. Schmap Detroit Fifth Edition selected the photo above. Click the subject line to go to Schmap to see my photo in its environment. The site is a guide to local places of interest for travelers. All the major US cities have a site.

What Would the Headline Say?

What if there was a really good MSU team that had won many consecutive matches? What if they were scheduled to play an equally good USC team? What would the headline in the paper say if the USC team won? I can see it now;

"Spartans Snapped By Trojans"

Things don't always turn out as planned

George Peppard was a local boy. He grew up in Dearborn and was a "Pioneer" at Dearborn HS. My son had discovered that George is buried in a cemetery not far from the high school and got an assignment to find the grave site in his studio production class.

Graveyards have always been interesting places to me. We found George's grave and managed to take a few photographs to print for his report. While we were there we meandered around, looking at the markers and trying to get a sense of who some of these people were. We found a couple markers that proved to be a little curious to me.

The first one was a family plot with three individual stones. The middle marker was a man who apparently lived a long and prosperous life. He was flanked by his two wives. Based on the dates on the stone his first wife left him at a fairly young age. His second wife was about ten years younger than the first. He managed to outlive both of them and at least one of their children. I think life was hard in the nineteenth century and I think it's fair to say that it was a mix of joy and sorry.

The curious thing about the second one was that here was a spousal plot of a woman who was still waiting for her husband to show up. The date of his birth would indicate that the current date was well beyond his passing. Just seems he got sidetracked. I can only guess what may have happened to him; maybe he got married again; maybe his family moved; maybe he didn't have enough money to take his place there. I bet this situation never came up at the kitchen table when the two of them bought the plot.

This Guy was Cool

While all my friends were off carving pumpkins yesterday, I went out for charred flesh at a local bar / burger joint. I couldn't help noticing that the bartender looked exactly like The Zohan; hair, beard and polyester shirt. When he wasn't poppin' the tops off of beer bottles he struck a well choreographed posed, tested to draw attention.....in a silent way. He would stand, arse against a fridge door, one foot raised up on the sink, arms crossed over his raised knee with his palms up. This stance was punctuated with the obligatory furrowed brow and distant stare. He was the epitome of cool.

We all know the purpose of looking cool, so I won't mention it here. I can't tell you if his "well groomed" image was effective or not, because I didn't stick around long enough to watch the show. Don't know if I'd have had the stomach to stay that long. When I looked around the room, all I could see was a room full of blue haired bar flies, waiving a cigarette around in one hand and guzzling beer straight from the long neck..............maybe he likes the metaphor.

Team Bowling

Our department at work went bowling yesterday to team build. It had been a long time since I had bowled and I wasn't sure if I had the requisite level of bowling stamina. I knew I'd could come out of the gate strong, but reckoned I would fade with each frame. Lucky for me I'm not in the best shape of my life. I was able to conserve my physical resources by taking advantage of my physical attributes. Yes, I was able to find a place to rest the ball between throws and was able to finish the event respectably.

The only bad part was that the balls pick up oil and wax from the floors and machinery. Now my shirt has oils stains all over it that will take some effort to get out. If only I could have stopped at home to get my special bowling pants.

Finger Licking Pets

One year, when I was about 7 years old, my grandmother came to visit on Easter. This was a particularly memorable event because brought us a box of live chicks. They were so cute, all fuzzy and yellow and scampering all over the place. That was one of the most fun days I ever had, but it was short lived. You see, we lived in tract housing; a real neighborhood with neighbors and schools and ordinances. Fortunately for us my parents had friends that lived on a 100 acre farm. Our precious chicks could go live there and be well cared for and we could go visit, whenever we wanted.

The old saying goes "out of site is out of mind", and this is especially true of 7 year olds and his siblings. The excitement of having the chicks had faded and the drudgery of finishing the second grade gave me more than enough to keep me occupied.

Time was slipping by and before I knew it summer was almost over. Mom got an invitation to an end of summer picnic at our friends' on the farm place. After we had dinner we could go out to the barn and visit the chicks. After all, it had been a long time since we'd played with them.

Dinner was fabulous. They had fried chicken and fresh vegetables from the farm. We had corn and celery and beautiful tomatoes. Now that dinner was over it was time to see the chicks. Can you guess where this is going? Yes, our pets were dinner. What we didn't know is that was the deal that was made for boarding them. It was a shockingly sad, but relevant lesson in life; don't fall in love with food. Well another lesson was learned; everything has a purposeful life and although not all purposes are desirable, we should be happy in our existence.

Look What I Have Daddy

One day, a long time ago, my oldest son Joseph came running to greet me when I came home from work. He was squealing, "look what I have daddy, look what I have". His arms stretched high to show me as his little feet pattered like drum rolls on the bare floor below him. With a huge pride induced smile I asked him, "what is it son?" He replied, "it's a piece of s#!t daddy, it's a piece of s#!t".

I struggled to contain my laughter, so as NOT to bruise my little boys ego. His mother, on the other hand, was howling and on the verge of tears when she heard those grown up words coming from an angelic mouth. I was wondering to myself, "where could he have learned such a thing?"

After a minute, she proceeded to tell me about her and Joe's day. Apparently they had gone to the grocery store to pick up something for dinner that night and they were going to surprise me. As is the case at most check out lines there was a small, but tempting, display of toy cars just at eye level for a child sitting in a cart. "Buy this for me mommy, buy this for me" was the persistent chant from Joe as they snaked toward the cashier. Losing her patience and seeking to stop the incessant chanting she said, "OK, I'll buy you this piece of s#!t, but you'd better behave yourself.

She gave him the toy and all was well for the rest of the trip; at least till they got home.

Boys Will Be Boys

My brother and I used to have tussles, as most brothers do, when we were young. We'd scuffle and bang around on the walls and the floors. My mother would yell at us to "stop horsing around". I would say, "mo om, horsin' around is a fun". "It's what seperates us from the animals..................except maybe horses".

Yes, I have two horse pictures in a row. I took the one from yesterday's post :)

Glum

Some friends of mine and I went on an unconventional convention adventure this past weekend in Chicago. During our break we did a lilttle sight seeing near the "Magnificent Mile". On our way we passed some mounted police officers, who let me pet one of the horses. I know we shouldn't project human emotions on animals, but as you can see this one looks kinda sad. As I pet him I asked, "why the long face, Flicka?"