A few brief statements from Yer Pal Tsunami

1)When you're here, you're not somewhere else.

2)Just because they haven't, doesn't mean they won't.

3)The very least you can do is nothing.

4)I believe cats and dogs are very, very smart. Back in the depths of history (or pre-history, I should say) they realized that humans were evolutionally superior, smarter, and stronger than any other species, so they allowed themselves to be domesticated. They traded their particular skills (cats-lethal hunters of small creatures and vermin, and dogs-their super heightened senses of hearing and smell, along with powerful jaws and loyalty that can reach fearlessness) for free food, and safety, knowing we would no longer be in competition as a direct threat to their survival. Now if, as I believe, humans one day leave this planet, and venture deep into space, cats and dogs will come with us, and thus ensure their survival and spread across the universe.

"Why?" You of course ask, of this preposterous hypothesis.

Well, when we go, we undoubtedly are going to bring stow-a-ways, mice, rats, roaches (I have a sneaky suspicion that there are a few "guests" on the International Space Station as we speak) which are the kind of things cats are super good at catching. Now, besides the fact that a dog was actually the first mammal humans shot into space (with sort-of bad results for the beast as I recall) once we get to a place where there is already life hanging out, ready to eat the fuck out of our intrepid explorers/colonists, we are going to need a hyper-aware sentry, or watchdog, if you will. A sentry that won't break down like an alarm system when the power goes out, or malfunctions occasionally like a smoke detector. And also a sentry that would alert us, then attack/distract a hostile alien until we wake up, throw on slippers, and grab a weapon big enough to shoot the thing to death.

5)I am not a cat guy at all, but I have made the aquaintence of a few really super cool cats.

6)I'm a bad speller, and it seems as tho thru some "upgrade" blogger's spellcheck stopped working. I apologize for words posted that are incorrectly spelled for the last week or so.

That is all.

-Tsunami-

884

I just wanted to throw something up today.

Well, that's not quite true, I wanted to throw something up that would be penetrating, insightful, hilarious, and smart...all at the same time, without devaluing you as a single tick on my hit counter. I wanted to raise themes that transcend culture and values and nationality, and tie all humanity together in one unified chunk of text, that would bring tears to your eyes, and make you tap the dink in the next cube and go, "Hey, you should read this."

But, I got problems, and a lot of stuff to get done before the month gets much older, and I really can't reassure myself that I'm even capable of the first adverb on my list. So instead, I'll just throw this up, since I've loved it since I've seen it...and it appears the gods of the youtubes are fine with it being here.

SUPER FAT TUESDAY!

(They've also been calling it Tsunami Tuesday...which I really didn't grab ahold of until right now. Kickass! And now...back to the show...)

Tuesday was supersized! Tuesday was PHAT! Tuesday was in a 50's tuxedo, and his neck was draped with so many leis, and cheap necklace beads that Flava-Flave would be madly jealous. There was a strange scent in the air, vaugely like the air before it rains, only more electric.

Monday was there making an appearance. Nobody held it against him that he was sullen. After all, he was not only Monday, but also had just suffered the indignity of being a regular old hated Monday between Super Sunday, and Super Fat Tuesday. He held onto his drink like a life preserver.

Wednesday was there, hanging onto a telephone pole as a vixen dressed in what can only be described as a "super sexy election volunteer" costume ran a ballot repeatedly over his hump. A giant float passed slowly behind them in the street, where a thick-waisted gentleman was dressed as Baccus, trying to look like he was enjoying drinking wine from a cornocopia, and throwing trinkets to whoever noticed him.

Thursday was chatting with a Japanese businessman who was standing by the gates to the church that was the local polling place. Overheard were his words, "I thought he said - I'm going to the boat!"

Even Friday was there, working his way through the throng of press, women, hangers-on and assorted merrymakers.

"Friday!" Tuseday shouted with a slight slur, "Glad you could make it!"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Super Fat Tuesday. Say, looks like you gained a few pounds!"
"A few!" Tuseday laughed and smacked his gut. "Try fifty! I just hope after today I can take it off!" Around them the crowd laughed too. A float with numerous mermaids glided quietly behind them, following the wake of Baccus.

"Tuseday! Tuseday! a man in a fedora shouted. In the headband of the hat was stuck a piece of white paper with the word "Press" written on it. He shouted again. "Tuseday! Any predictions before the results are in?"

"YES!" Tuseday bellowed. "I predict, more rain this year!" The crowd roared! "I predict," he continued, "more jellyfish attacks," The crowd cheered less strongly, looking at each other. "I predict," Tuesday plowed on, "There will be no ice-cream sandwich shortage this year!" The crowd roared again, "And I predict a glorious night will be had by ALL!" The crowd broke into complete meyham. Glasses were emptied, strangers kissed and groped each other passionately! Just then a float carrying Venus trundled past, and the whole crowd swarmed it, jumping up, and finding precarious seats and handholds. The weekdays were swept up and found themselves riding slowly down the street, surrounded by throngs of people.

Tuseday, as chance had placed him in just the right spot, recieved the most passionate kiss from the goddess of the float, surrounded by nymphs and weekdays, and a mob of humanity. He pulled himself away from her delicious lips as the pressman shouted at the slowly dissapearing float of revelry.

"I ment about the elections...the president!"

Tuesday grabbed onto a trellace covered in beautiful roses, and swung himself off of Venus to look back at the receeding newspaperman.

"I PREDICT," he shouted, "THE FIRST CANDIDATE TO OFFER A FREE MONKEY WILL GET MY VOTE!"

"A MONKEY?!!" The newspaperman shouted back.

"YEAH, AND IT BETTER BE TRAINED TO DO LAUNDRY!"

The crowd exploded! People kissed, threw hats, and shirts and pants! Unspeakable acts of debauchery happened spontaneously afterwards. Then, like a dream, someone somewhere began to chant...

"Free Monkey!"

And more people took up the chant.

"FREE MONKEY!"

Suddenly moving slowly down the street was the float of Venus, covered like a chia-pet with half-naked humans, shaking their fists in unison, along with a likewise half-disrobed mob walking around and behind it, all yelling in perfect unison,

"FREE MONKEY!...FREE MONKEY!...FREE MONKEY!" The chant was taken up by spectators on balconys, people ran from their houses to join the procession until it reached blocks behind the float. Windows rattled with the synchronous voices yelling for a free monkey.

***
CUT TO: The Next County
An old man and an old woman sit on rocking-chairs on a rickety porch. The sound of "Free Monkey" drifts over the swamp and grove of trees.

Old Man: Do my ears decieve me, or do I hear someone calling for a free monkey?
Old Woman: Free Monkey would be nice, what with my bunions and all, 'specially if it could do the laundry.
Old Man: Guess that's where my vote goes then.
(the woman looks deeply into his eyes. He notices and looks back)

CUT TO: Their hands clasping
***

CUT TO: The Shouting Mob Around The Float of Venus

Friday has worked his way through the mass of humanity on the float, and stands next to Tuesday. He speaks in between defening shouts of "FREE MONKEY!" to say,
"I think I really like Super Fat Tuesday!"
"Yeah, me too." Tuesday says back, but has a knowing look.
"No. I mean, no, really." Friday looks at Tuesday knowingly. "This is all you."
"Okay." Tuesday says with a smile.

"Happy Super Fat Tuesday!" He shouts, grabs a handfull of rose-petals and throws them high above the chanting crowd.

Hello My Vigilant State Department Friendly Fjordlings!

I know why you came here! Well, I don't exactly, it could be one of two things. One, could be that you tracked my Frinedly Kajikistanian Fjordling to my site, or you could have just searched Usama Bin Ladin, which isn't the common parlance for one of the nation's most wanted criminal. I only used the spelling of "Usama," because it was the actual name on the F.B.I.'s website of "most wanted motha'fucka's" and I figgered if it was what was on the F.B.I.'s website, then that was probably the official name of the dude who's eluded us for near eight years.

Strange how it's different in the press and on the F.B.I.'s website, ain't it? Well, anyhoo...since yer probly wondering why I'm bringing this up, I just figgered that after spending damn near 25 minutes on my blog, probly gleaning all sorts of personal information about me, that you don't really know what I write about...so I'd like to give you a quick link to something that sums up what fjord is all about.

It's right here.

Hello My Tajikistan Friends!

Or should I say, my Tajikistan Fjordlings?!? Well, it seems my post on speculating on where Bin Ladin might be hanging out, drew a curious interneteer from Tajikisan over to our humble blog o' the fjords, and I have to say, I'm kinda' befuddled as to what to say. I literally didn't even know Tajikistan had internet access...so I'd like to apologize if I was way off the mark, and in no means was I trying to slander yer fair land. I just figgered (from my albeit stupidly inadequate knowledge of your country...which btw gets like, no coverage in our press) you seemed a likely place off the radar, for that guy to hide out. I suppose it was arrogant of me to speculate about your nation, but then again, the post was called "speculations," which implies I'm not certain, and practically guessing. But still, since I havent gotten any feedback/comments to challenge my preposterous assertion, I'll have to think I'm not too far off the mark.

P.S. I'd be more than welcome to any information that might prove me wrong.

Thanks!
Yers,
-Tsunami-

As Promised...Puppies!

Well now...this is interesting

Anonymous is an interesting sounding group, and here's a little youtube vid that they released as some kind of mission statement. Warren Ellis picked up a thread on this and spoke about how this message had both purpose and threat within it. It's true, their message is not touchy-feely, and maybe that's a message that will be picked up by more social-action groups. I certainly remember the 2000 Democratic Convention in L.A., when I went down to the protest area, I remember thinking, "The problem with these protesters is their poor sense of fashion." It's not what you're doing, but how you look doing it, I suppose would be a nice way to put it, it's also nice to have people a little worried at how powerful you are, and what you might be capable of.

Well, enjoy!



Tomorrow, PUPPIES!

Speculations...

Hmm, thinkings, thinkings, ponderings, wonderings...hang on gotta go to the can. Okay, I'm back! Today, we'll discuss something that's sorta slipped off the radar for a while. Usama Bin Laden! Where the heck is that guy!?! literally a guy with a price tag on his head the size of a huge super-lotto jackpot 25-million dollars - the kind of money that would bump you right into the tax bracket of the pretty-stinkin-filthy-rich. Where in the world could that dude be hangin' out?

Some speculation is that he's in the northern regions of Pakistan, or possibly southern Afghanistan. But I think he's probably doing something different...since he'd have to be growing pretty tired of hiding in caves, and small villages with all the comfjorts of the 15th century. No, I'm pretty convinced he's in a more urban environment. So to that end, we've got Islamabad, or Karachi (Pakistan's largest city) where there are certainly groups that would harbor such a fugitive, but it also seems unlikely that he could move around there without someone spilling the beans and grabbing 25 million smackeroos.

So where else? Well, there's the Persian Gulf states, where one might suspect Saudi Arabia, or Dubai. But both of these has problems for the fugitive, since Dubai's probably (I'm guessing) full of Vegas-like camera-security, where sooner or later his image would appear, and some enterprising and underpaid Filipino security staffer would take a shot at the reward. Saudi Arabia is a different mix...and a place I don't have a lot of insight on. My guess is that we (the U.S.A.) have enough people on the ground there, where they might get wind of him lurking about. But there are also a huge number or Princes and the like, where he could hide out in a backwater palace in exchange for some shekels. Of course, he would also risk the chance of betrayal...so there's clearly cons against that idea.

But to the North of Afghanistan there's a few countries that might be interesting. Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan! Old ex-soviet republics, with pretty authoritarian regimes, restricted media, and the kind of place where the general population might not even know who Bin Laden is, much less know he's worth a huge fortune.

Those seem to me to be best spots to start looking, if one were inclined to, you know, get a group of people together to start looking for the reward money. And I'm not doing anything super important right now...whaddaya say?

Here's a little link to a nice MKL post I just saw...

Over here.

Ellis...

I've been hanging onto this quote from Warren Ellis for a while, and thought I might need to throw it up there for you guys to take a gander at. It goes like this:

"I was ready to do another big piece of political sf, and I knew what I wanted to talk about, I wanted to talk about the subsumation of authenticity into fiction. I wanted to talk about liars, on a grand scale. I wanted to talk about the end of the world, in the major and the minor. And I wanted to talk about where I think we are today, and where we could end up in ten or fifteen years. The motor of innovation and novelty is really kind of cranked up right now, but, in contrast, the general culture is still in a sort of post millennial shock, just laying there drooling over it's nipples."

Whaddaya think? That last sentence strike you as legit, or is he way off base?

Either way, it ties in interestingly with my last post...

Hi Everybloody!

I watched this last night, and figgered I'd just put it up now, since...well, since it was pretty dang powerful.

It's about politics, which, I've mentioned before I try not to touch since there are 18-billion blogs out there trying/doing a better job than I could ever hope to do. But anyways, it's a 54 minute lecture about why everything seems so fucked up in the world. So please make sure you have the time, because after about 5 minutes you might just listen to the whole chilling thing. If not, just skip down to "The Curse of the Struggle Bunny," cause that's just as chilling, but it's in text, and way short, and it has a funny ending.

The Curse of the Struggle Bunny

I don't think the post needs anything more than the title, but since we're here, the story goes like this.

Struggle Bunny struggled to overcome the problems, trials, and tribulations that fate threw into Struggle Bunny's path. Over time, Struggle Bunny overcame these problems and trials and tribulations, only to find another problem, trial, and tribulation behind them, and so Struggle Bunny struggled, and overcame those. And yet, on the other side of those, came more, and more, and more, until finally Struggle Bunny forgot what Struggle Bunny was even struggling for.

In fact, Struggle Bunny began to do the only thing Struggle Bunny knew what to do, which was struggle. Of course, this is not the way for any Bunny to grow, prosper or be happy, but the avenues to these wondrous places were closed or hidden for the moment, from Struggle Bunny.

Then one day hopping down the Bunny Trail, Struggle Bunny got his head stuck in a noose, and began to choke! Struggle Bunny did what had always worked before - which was struggle! Struggle Bunny struggled and struggled, but could not get free. So Struggle Bunny struggled and struggled with even more effort, and died of asphyxiation.

The moral of the story? Don't be a Struggle Bunny.

Content Of Your Character Day

Yea friends, this is the day that yer supposed to honor M.L.K., and unlike most National holidays, it's one I at least thought about before it actually showed up.

"Why Tsunami?" You ask.

Well, I guess when it comes right down to it, Doctor King is one of the recent historical figures I think that brought some real change in my fair country, that I actually try and buy into. I know I don't do it all the time, but for the most part, I give damn-near everyone a base-line of "I believe you're a decent, nice, and probably remarkable person if I give you half-a chance." That's usually all the rope a person needs to hang themselves with, and make me hate them as an idiot with my Gjod-given right of full-equal-opportunity.

But it does pull together occasionally where I am impressed with the content of one's character, and I'm not telling you anything new when I say, "It's a small world," and by that I mean, when you realize how many quality people you know from all the people you've ever met in your life, and how many of them you can actually see in person, call up on the phone, or just communicate with through mail or the internet, IT IS A FUCKING SMALL WORLD.

I believe it's too damn small to ever think that race, nationality, religion, culture, or whatthefjuckever should mean anything other than the seasoning on the top of a character with great content.

P.S. This does not change my overarching belief (based on long and scientifically proven observation) than the majority world is populated with dinks.

-Tsunami-

Is it like this where you're at?

It's dark, like late-night dark. There's only pools of electric light revealing things in muted shades of color. There's a small electric current running through the atmosphere, and somehow it makes everything tinged with more attractiveness, and allure than normal. Your furniture looks more inviting, as if people should be welcomed into it, and your wardrobe is slightly more desirable, as if it would only present the best side of your physicality.

On the streets which most days might be full of darkend malice, that should be scooted through with rapid steps and downturned eyes are now a welcoming curtain of darkness that might be pulled back with a friendly and bejeweled hand, to reveal a wondrous scene in perfect focus, lush with costumes, luxuriously rich trappings, and characters that will suck you into a story that will be equal parts of the most hilarious romantic comedy, the most psychologically thrilling thriller, the most action-packed of action, the most dramatic of drama, (in only the best ways - naturally) the most educational of documentaries, and (hopefully) the most pornographic of pornos.

Yea, my friends of the Fjords...this is how it looks from the other side.

Friday is the Director, sitting in his tall Director's chair with an old-skool (a simple cone) megaphone held in his left hand, with brown calf-high riding boots, and grey houndstooth breeches that puff out around the thighs. A sportscoat of brown-and-black houndstooth checkers (the matching small size on his pants) covers a white silk shirt where the top two buttons are unbuttoned, revealing a dark blue cravat (the same color of the sky when the sun casts it's final rays over the horizon) tied around his throat.

Above his handsome and timeless face is a grey floppy newspaperboy's cap, and around him various people move about to support huge cameras, giant lights, wind machines, and others that make last minute adjustments to costumes and makeup. The actors are busy reading the lines that are about to be said, not because they need too - they've memorized them days or weeks ago - it's just they're nervous for the performance, and need something to distract themselves until they're actually doing something. Thursday appears from the shadows at Friday's elbow in a smokin' gray sharkskin suit. A few stagehands adjust the props, and scuttle off.

"This is going to be uberbueno." Thursday says.

Friday turns his head towards Thursday,

"Yer damn right."

He raises his megaphone to his lips, swiftly rakes his glance across everything, concluding it's as close to perfect as it's going to get. Then, dispensing with the three-word-cliche just speaks one simple word. It's spoken, distorted slightly through the primitive megaphone but it's a word without haste, without anger, without the trace of arrogance. Just a simple word that carries the weight that it should, when one knows everything is as it should be.

"Action."

Happy Friday

Shoot this average up a little bit!

Seems like someone (about what, two months later) took this jellyfish threat seriously, and started doing something. Of course doing something is putting some blokes on ferries and counting them...

Here's the munny quote...
"The trouble is that we know so little about these jellyfish," said Dr Houghton.
"Until recently, they were viewed as bags of water that had little or no impact on our ecosystem. Now we need to learn, very quickly, about their behaviour and about their breeding patterns in our waters. We need to get some basic data about numbers, and the easiest and quickest way to do that is simply to send researchers out on the ferries.
For the past few weeks, they have been standing on deck looking at the sea and counting jellyfish. That is how we are getting a baseline figure for their numbers."

Okay, lemme put this in perspective for yas - THERE IS A TEN SQUARE MILE SWARM OF JELLYFISH moving around like a super-organism, and you've just paid to have some guys on a boat COUNT THEM!?!? Holy fjuck! Serious?! That's the best you can do?

Don't think this is just over in the North Sea/North Atlantic either.
There's...
The Mediterranean
Japan's Pacific coast - WHERE THEY ATTACKED A NUCLEAR REACTOR!
More from The Japanese Sea
Philippine Sea
Chile - BBC Video Clip

And that's just a quick search! I tells ya what, we might be RIGHT NOW engaged in a titanic oceanic battle against the invertebrates! AND THE BEST WE'VE GOT IS SOME BRIT'S COUNTING THEM!!? (nothing against the Brit's counting abilities...(at least they're doing...something)) I'm just sayin', maybe we should be doing a little something more. Are jellyfish the mummy of 2008?

Well, Fjord will keep you apprised of the sitch-u-ation, and you can be the judge.

I write this now as I'll probly forget...when the day is nigh

ONLY FJORD MJORE DAYS AND FJORD IS THREE!!!

Three in blog years is like, umm, hang on, three times fifteen times five, minus four, carry the three...multiply by pi, divide by .01, minus the remainder, then add the number of days in the hundred years war, and the number of posts, multiply by 12 and then three...HOLY CRAP!

In blog years, according to my equations, is the equivalent to THREE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR YEARS OLD! I'd say that's a noteworthy accomplishment. NOTEWORTHY!!!

869 (including this Fjordian promotional drivel) posts in 1092 days is like, if you crunch the numbers, making nearly four posts every week for the last three years. My math might be off, but I'll tell ya what, that's a lotta words. Hope some (words, and/or years) have been uberbueno.

-Tsunami-

I would gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today!

It's been a busy week fer yer 'ole pal Tsunami so far, and I can't exactly pin down which of the two possible reasons it might be. ONE, is that with the coming of the New Yar, I have actually begun making changes and acting on my resolutions (err, which so far is to pay attention to, and actually do things on my list) which is making me a more dynamic and action-packed Tsunami. Or TWO...I have actually done so little in the last two months, and let so many things slid off to the side that in order to even maintain a semblance of a resemblance to a life the "normals" would consider even semi-disreputable, a few days of herculean housework and organization is in the cards.

I'm pulling for #1, but I think we all can guess the real answer.

Anyhoo, what about you? How ya doin!? Now that the holidaze are over, gots any huge plans? I mean there's a clean slate in '09, and we shouldn't let that go to waste now, should we?

oh, incase you missed it last year, here's this cool TIGER ATTACK!



Yeah, so, umm, "Watch Out For Tiger Attack" will be our unofficial catchphrase for '09 until we get something better...altho I wouldn't mind "Beware of Surprise" if that's what you guys prefer.

So as soon as I mention it...

"Am I the only one who thinks this week has been shit?" Friday says to the four other weekdays gathered in the back of a tinted-windowed limousine, nursing his mood with a drink of dark liquid.
"Damn, I'll say." Replies Tuesday, his chin resting on his right fist, eyes gazing out at the lights of passing storefronts.
"And this weather," Wednesday says reaching over his shoulder to massage his aching hump, "Does not help."
"A feeling of...what is it?" Monday says, "Constriction?"
Thursday walked stoop-backed across the limo and pulled a beer from the mini-fridge, and stumbled back from where he started.
"This baby '08's already throwing his weight around like this year's some kind of roller-coaster. Up, down, left right...shit." He flopped back into the leather couch in the back and cracked his beer. "And I'm not positive at this stage, it's a good thing."

Heads nodded, as just then the limo-driver honked at a stupid driver.
"But what does it all mean?" Asks Tuesday with a tinge of hopefulness.
"I dunno, but after what I've seen over the last two years, I am not hopeful." Says Monday.
"Which fortunately, is not far from your normal state. Ha-ha-ha!" Quips Thursday, which draws much less hilarious response than he hoped, and he hadn't hoped that much, which made it worse.

"Well look," Says Tuesday, "The kid's like 11, right?"
Wednesday looked over, with the arm over his shoulder massaging his back stopped, and shot a look of stupidity at Tuesday.
"You can add?!" He took his arm down to grab a glass held in place by a plastic holder set into the limo couch. He took the glass, had a sip, then added, "So, he's 11, and in a lifespan of 365 days, that's like, 1/33rd of the whole gjoddang lifespan. If you wanna break it down into months, he's like near a half-a-month-old in a twelve month lifespan. Duh."

"Uh-huh..." Tuesday shot back, only more addressing the weekdays as Wednesday was working to make his point. "That's what I was talking about. See, if the average human lives to around 84 years old, we can do the math and figure out he's aging at near 7 years every month. So right now he's about three-and-a-half! That's just about when kids are able to figure out right from wrong...right?"

"I dunno." Monday responded, "Never had kids."
"Me neither" Thursday says.
Tuesday and Wednesday just shook their heads "no."

Tuesday didn't mind, he just kept going.
"So let's show up wherever he's at, and and convince the kid that he shouldn't throw his weight around like this!"

"Yeah!" Shouted Monday.
"Okay. Sure!" Granted Wednesday.
"Not a bad idea at all." Thursday said.
"And if we can't," Friday said, "Let's scare the fuck outta' the kid." He had another sip of his dark drink, "After all, who runs things around here? Some rapidly maturing and dying year-entity being, or the immortal passing days, US!"

"YEAH!" They all shouted, spontaneously raising their glasses in a toast.

"Holy shit," Tuesday said, noticing a store out the window. "There's a costume shop! Let's get masks! I'm past convincing, I just wanna scare the crap outta' that little shit!"

Friday picked up a telephone, and called the driver.
"Pull over here for a minute."

Happy Friday.

Well...here's the best story of the day.

I guess it's a reminder of that old adage, "you are the company you keep."

The Casa Aloha! "Now With Free New Paint Smell!"

If I was one of those more pro-style bloggers, I'd have a post all typed up, or at least thunk about before this little night was, well, night. And if I was one of those more pro-style bloggers, I'd have a crack team of other bloggers to make sure that before you knew it, there would be a buncha posts in this space and you wouldn't even know I was missing. And if I was one of those more pro-style bloggers, I'd have a buncha' ads up paying me a few cents every now-and-then so it wouldn't feel like this was all err, "passion-based" content. I could come sauntering over to my compooter dressed in silk P.J.'s and (with their sexily checkered collar folded over the collar of a) plush robe, carrying a martini-glass full of something yummy whilst I said over to my shoulder to the scantily-clad sex kitten making Vargas poses on my bedspread,
"Just a moment dear, I've got to get some work done today."

But while I may have a couple of Dean Martin records on the itunes, I did just put in a nasty day down at the Casa Aloha H.Q., have to do some tidying up around is joint (since the undocumented workers the Landscape-and-Maintenance Department sent in, proceeded to knock over a mess of tiki-torches, break three glass tables, and figured it would be a good idea to paint the bar three hours before opening...I guess it's an '08 thing.)
anyways, please try not to mind the fans, we're working on getting some space heaters...I'm sure it's going to be a great night! Come on down!

Anyways, for your consideration, I'd like to throw out a few conversation starters that might generate tangents that you might not expect.
1) Relating funny news stories about people who die.
2) Explaining the various ways of how the listener's job sucks.
3) Asking, and then demanding forcefully, to know when, how, and where people first had sex, and with whom!

Well, with that, I'm off. I'd like to personally thank readers Rhino and WyomingMad for their nice comments...since I'm still not one of those pro-style bloggers, and basically shoot this shit into the webmonster because I can.

Yers,
-Tsunami-