Greetings from Justinland

Hmmm, 4 More Months!  4 More Months!

I did enjoy watching the Democratic Infomercial Convention last week, even though my Hillary was not the nominee.  Girlfriend seemed gracious enough on screen, but wouldn’t you have loved being a fly on the wall back at the hotel.

 Who gets the idea that John McCain’s lovely new running mate was selected by a computer dating service?  Maybe Match.com.  Just plug in all the qualities you want and see who the computer spits out.

 Except John McCain claims not to know how to use a computer.

Baby Erik can now say ‘Jah, Jah Jah’ which I am sure is my name.  Miss B is taking some classes this semester (business math) so I have been babysitting.   I take him to work and let all the ladies fight over him.  He is quite the charmer.

And speaking of charmers, there is this long haired young man named Rob who sings once a week at the memory care center where dear old Dad resides.  He comes with a Karaoke machine and a guitar and takes requests. For some reason, Alzheimer’s often spares that part of your brain that remembers your favorite music.  Most times the memory care center is just a high priced warehouse for the not quite dead.  But sometimes they all gather their wheelchairs in a circle and sing Wasting Away in Margaritaville with Rob.

 I had been reading Kitty Kelley’s bio of Frank Sinatra (what an asshole, but I still like his music) so I requested some Frankie.  Rob played Fly Me to the Moon just for me, so I asked him to dinner.

The Best is Yet to Come.

 

For all of you in the path of Gustav, know that you are in my heart this weekend

Are the Olympics Finally Over?

While I can get behind the idea of peace, love, sports and buying the world a Coke, what I don't appreciate is that all your hopes and dreams can be destroyed in 1/100th of a second.   1/100th of a second should not label anyone a loser! You are all winners ...especially this Aussie Cutie

Happy Birthday to you know who.

I miss you

Dog (and Fat Cat) Days

Is anyone still reading this thing?

I haven’t had a lot to say.

I have been practicing gratefulness.   Put a post-it note on your light switch to remind yourself to be grateful for electricity…or if you are in the KC metro area this August, put the damn post-it on the air conditioning.  Like the philosopher Santana once said ‘it’s a hot one, like 7 inches from the midday sun’

 

In other news, I was in LA last week, just in time for the earthquake.  Holy Moly!  The walls started to move and books fell off the shelf.  I thought it lasted for hours but my bro-in-law (Sam, the scary rock star and native Californian) said about 10-15 seconds.  “But how do we know this isn’t the big one that plunges the whole West coast into the Pacific?” I asked.

“We don’t” said Sam.

Their fat white cat had the right idea; he hid under the bed and refused to come out.

Speaking of fat white cats, there was an interesting juxtaposition in the media this week between the tail of Prince Chunk, the world’s fattest cat and new media superstar and the story of the poor neglected child with CP who was allowed to starve to death while no one noticed.  Prince Chunk outweighed the girl by 3 pounds

 The times we live in

Ty is still causing minor riots around town because of his resemblance to David Cook.  This last time was at Dean and Delucca’s where you would think the customers would be better behaved. American Idol try-outs are in KC this weekend and I have dared him to go down there just to see what happens.  For the record, Ty sings about as well as I do (the soap complains when we sing in the shower) but then again, can David Cook make a fresh hamachi roll?

Conversations with Dad, who forgot to zip up after his last bathroom break.

“Uh, Dad.  Better take care of business, buddy.  There are ladies present|” I said

“Huh?’ says Dad clueless

“You left the barn door open” I hint

“Barndoor?  I don’t have a barndoor.” (which is technically correct)

“You forgot to zip your fly”

“Flies get in when you leave the door open”

“DAD!”   I yell, frustrated, except every conversion is like this anymore.  “Your pants are unzipped and your penis is hanging out for all to see”

“Penis?  I don’t think I have one of those” 

 And they say that hearing is the last thing to go