Eddy looked out his window on the first day of spring.
It was snowing.
“Ah,” he said, “It’s gonna be one of those years.”
Nonplussed, he got suited up, went out side and made snow angels.
The neighbors later wondered about the eighty year old man laying in the yard, laughing like a child with its pants on fire.
Some of the grown ups called it Alzheimers.
Some of the grown ups worried that he might catch his death of cold.
All of the children wondered how such an old man could be so Intense.
Eddy just laid there in his snow suit (snug as a bug and dry as a fly for those readers who might be concerned) and smiled.
It was going to be one of those years.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Groove
Wow, it’s March 30th all ready? Where did the time go?
A year ago, I made a promise to blog all the time. So much for that.
I was in a groove (spring), stumbled a bit (Summer), got distracted (Fall) and then totally lost it(Winter).
If I was a blues player, I’d sing:
I found my goove, sittin’ under a tree;
Yeah, I found my groove, sittin’ under a tree;
It was there all along, just waitin’ up for me.
Somehow, all the in’ makes me imagine Sarah Palin with a blue fedora and a Harmonica.
I think I just got the heebie jeebies. Ol’ Little Walter must be crying in his coffin at the thought.
And I might have just killed my groove. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.
A year ago, I made a promise to blog all the time. So much for that.
I was in a groove (spring), stumbled a bit (Summer), got distracted (Fall) and then totally lost it(Winter).
If I was a blues player, I’d sing:
I found my goove, sittin’ under a tree;
Yeah, I found my groove, sittin’ under a tree;
It was there all along, just waitin’ up for me.
Somehow, all the in’ makes me imagine Sarah Palin with a blue fedora and a Harmonica.
I think I just got the heebie jeebies. Ol’ Little Walter must be crying in his coffin at the thought.
And I might have just killed my groove. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Ques Flash!
Good Morning, World.
I woke up today trying to mash together the songs “The Time warp” and “old MacDonald Had a Farm.” This was ultimately less successful than a couple of weeks ago when I realized you could sing “Sweet Transvestite” to the tune of “Sympathy for the Devil” and vice versa.
No, I don’t know what my deal is with Rocky Horror.
In other news, Today marks the Day-na-versery (Dana-versary?) of moving out of the Hancock tower.
My friends, you can tell it’s an exciting news week here at Fox Ques.
United States possibly invading Mexico?
Flooding in North Dakota?
Change in the location of an international gathering because they wouldn’t let the Dali Llama in?*
Piffle.
Fox Ques cares about Things that Matter to You!
Please stay tuned as our internet correspondent JumpinJoe64 reports about spring training in Ft. Meyers, FL – live and lifted from ESPN.com
Take it away Jj64!
*Fox Ques can’t remember if it’s a rugby, soccer, cricket, or world peace gathering, and can’t be bothered to look it up anyway, because he’s a true modern internet journalist.
I woke up today trying to mash together the songs “The Time warp” and “old MacDonald Had a Farm.” This was ultimately less successful than a couple of weeks ago when I realized you could sing “Sweet Transvestite” to the tune of “Sympathy for the Devil” and vice versa.
No, I don’t know what my deal is with Rocky Horror.
In other news, Today marks the Day-na-versery (Dana-versary?) of moving out of the Hancock tower.
My friends, you can tell it’s an exciting news week here at Fox Ques.
United States possibly invading Mexico?
Flooding in North Dakota?
Change in the location of an international gathering because they wouldn’t let the Dali Llama in?*
Piffle.
Fox Ques cares about Things that Matter to You!
Please stay tuned as our internet correspondent JumpinJoe64 reports about spring training in Ft. Meyers, FL – live and lifted from ESPN.com
Take it away Jj64!
*Fox Ques can’t remember if it’s a rugby, soccer, cricket, or world peace gathering, and can’t be bothered to look it up anyway, because he’s a true modern internet journalist.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Soon to be Next Door to a Barking Crab
This week feels like a series finale on some David Kelly show.
My company, after five years at the tower standing like a blue flash drive above the city of Boston, is moving. The parent company, CRA who let us go at last season’s cliff hanger, it doing as poorly as ever, but morale remains high as the March Madness Pool goes slightly out of control.
Beloved characters from the first season have begun to filter back in to make their final appearances, Dwight on FB, Kathy at Open Doors; and some continue to put in golden performances like Suzanne, Brian the loading dock fellow, and the Spanish lunch lady.
In true and proper fashion, nothing has really changed or been resolved. The CEO continues to be the fellow who played the part of the town priest in Indee, Phil, the boss, answers to Phil, the boss; hijinks and mystery ensue among the underlings. I still can’t shake it from my head that everyone I work with has a secret life as an assassin, perhaps a vampire or maybe the crown prince of some far off land. So please join us for our next season where the antics and personalities of Helmes & Co take on the shenanigans of Sleeper Street!
My company, after five years at the tower standing like a blue flash drive above the city of Boston, is moving. The parent company, CRA who let us go at last season’s cliff hanger, it doing as poorly as ever, but morale remains high as the March Madness Pool goes slightly out of control.
Beloved characters from the first season have begun to filter back in to make their final appearances, Dwight on FB, Kathy at Open Doors; and some continue to put in golden performances like Suzanne, Brian the loading dock fellow, and the Spanish lunch lady.
In true and proper fashion, nothing has really changed or been resolved. The CEO continues to be the fellow who played the part of the town priest in Indee, Phil, the boss, answers to Phil, the boss; hijinks and mystery ensue among the underlings. I still can’t shake it from my head that everyone I work with has a secret life as an assassin, perhaps a vampire or maybe the crown prince of some far off land. So please join us for our next season where the antics and personalities of Helmes & Co take on the shenanigans of Sleeper Street!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Moral of the story?
So,
Big MaMa Q just fixed me a nice, tangy glass of coco.
That’s right, tangy. It took me the whole cup to figure out what fruit I was tasting.
Apple; my hot chocolate tastes like a tangy apple. Unexpected but delightful.
However, now I’m jonesing some caramel
And if you give a Q a caramel…
Well, you know how it goes. People end up dying.
Whiskey’s probably involved somehow.
And a vacuum cleaner. It’s a bad thing all around.
Never give a Q a caramel.
“But Myque,” you might say, “Didn’t this all start because Big MaMa Q made you a glass of coco?
“Yeah, so?” I’d say.
“And didn’t Big MaMa Q make the coco all hippy-like with Rice Milk, local honey and Organic Cacao dust harvested off the sweaty brows of malnourished, poverty stricken workers?”
“What’s your point kid?” I’d ask with an uneasy sense that someone might be mocking me…
“Easy. It’s not a case of Never give a Q a caramel, it’s Buy American.”
“Kid,” I’d say. “I like your style. Wanna grab a whiskey?”
"Sure!”
Moral of the story:
Never give a Q a caramel.
Big MaMa Q just fixed me a nice, tangy glass of coco.
That’s right, tangy. It took me the whole cup to figure out what fruit I was tasting.
Apple; my hot chocolate tastes like a tangy apple. Unexpected but delightful.
However, now I’m jonesing some caramel
And if you give a Q a caramel…
Well, you know how it goes. People end up dying.
Whiskey’s probably involved somehow.
And a vacuum cleaner. It’s a bad thing all around.
Never give a Q a caramel.
“But Myque,” you might say, “Didn’t this all start because Big MaMa Q made you a glass of coco?
“Yeah, so?” I’d say.
“And didn’t Big MaMa Q make the coco all hippy-like with Rice Milk, local honey and Organic Cacao dust harvested off the sweaty brows of malnourished, poverty stricken workers?”
“What’s your point kid?” I’d ask with an uneasy sense that someone might be mocking me…
“Easy. It’s not a case of Never give a Q a caramel, it’s Buy American.”
“Kid,” I’d say. “I like your style. Wanna grab a whiskey?”
"Sure!”
Moral of the story:
Never give a Q a caramel.
Monday, March 23, 2009
I know, I know.
" Hello, This is your captain, Emilious Q. It looks like that patch of turbulence is over, and you are free to walk about the cabinet. "
“What a relief,” David Dishman said to his beloved.
“Je sais,” was all that she could say.
Really, she needn’t say anything else. Dishman knew how she could stir men’s passions; that’s what he loved about her. He’d watched from afar as she shattered other men’s hearts; and promised to himself that either he’d bend her to his will, or she’d leave him a broken man.
Because really, after doing nothing more than working in one kitchen after another for his entire life, David Dishman was sick of serving others.
“Je sais,” was all that she could say.
He met her in a café where they both worked. She wasn’t his, she partnered up with nearly everyone in the place. But when they’d lie together she was his and no one else’s. He loved her for it, and said so.
“Je sais,” was all that she could say.
With eyes as big as saucers, he saw that it didn’t matter how he felt. What mattered were the hands wrapped around her, using her, leaving her lying - dripping and sweaty and then gently wiping her clean. This was her nature, and if he could not accept it, then he was not worthy to be with her.
Finally, he could take it no more.
“I know you,” David Dishman told her as they washed up after work. “You’re getting bored.”
“Je sais,” was all she could say.
“You’re going to leave soon.”
“Je sais,” was all she could say.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Je sais,” was all she could say.
And so here they were, in Space and flying deeper. They were free to move about the cabinet, and he looked at her with his wide round face. He could see reflected in her his hope of being together, his realization that they might never be, and his fear of being just another crackpot who thought she could be his and his alone.
“Je sais,” was all she could say.
“Really?,” he asked.
“Non.”
“What a relief,” David Dishman said to his beloved.
“Je sais,” was all that she could say.
Really, she needn’t say anything else. Dishman knew how she could stir men’s passions; that’s what he loved about her. He’d watched from afar as she shattered other men’s hearts; and promised to himself that either he’d bend her to his will, or she’d leave him a broken man.
Because really, after doing nothing more than working in one kitchen after another for his entire life, David Dishman was sick of serving others.
“Je sais,” was all that she could say.
He met her in a café where they both worked. She wasn’t his, she partnered up with nearly everyone in the place. But when they’d lie together she was his and no one else’s. He loved her for it, and said so.
“Je sais,” was all that she could say.
With eyes as big as saucers, he saw that it didn’t matter how he felt. What mattered were the hands wrapped around her, using her, leaving her lying - dripping and sweaty and then gently wiping her clean. This was her nature, and if he could not accept it, then he was not worthy to be with her.
Finally, he could take it no more.
“I know you,” David Dishman told her as they washed up after work. “You’re getting bored.”
“Je sais,” was all she could say.
“You’re going to leave soon.”
“Je sais,” was all she could say.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Je sais,” was all she could say.
And so here they were, in Space and flying deeper. They were free to move about the cabinet, and he looked at her with his wide round face. He could see reflected in her his hope of being together, his realization that they might never be, and his fear of being just another crackpot who thought she could be his and his alone.
“Je sais,” was all she could say.
“Really?,” he asked.
“Non.”
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Mr. Buff, You have found me at last
Hello out there.
I do not know if this message will be found. I do not know if a sound will reach those ears that seek it, but Mr. Buff, the bloggies are back.
I see the Internet as one looking out into the night sky, and realize that this site is but an M class planet, third in a line on the fringe of the Blogspot nebula. I have no idea if anyone is listening; however, I fear alien nations all the same.
I feel that I must not shout, nor have a presence on all channels as I did before. Times have changed, and I too change into a different Q than I was before.
This morning I realized that when I use the computer, I interface with the world directly through hands scarred with episodes of careless stupidity. Does this make me unique? I would assume not; but the back of my right hand should remind me of assumptions....
So what's next, oh night of my life?
In the words of Robert Jordan, "Read, And Find Out."
I do not know if this message will be found. I do not know if a sound will reach those ears that seek it, but Mr. Buff, the bloggies are back.
I see the Internet as one looking out into the night sky, and realize that this site is but an M class planet, third in a line on the fringe of the Blogspot nebula. I have no idea if anyone is listening; however, I fear alien nations all the same.
I feel that I must not shout, nor have a presence on all channels as I did before. Times have changed, and I too change into a different Q than I was before.
This morning I realized that when I use the computer, I interface with the world directly through hands scarred with episodes of careless stupidity. Does this make me unique? I would assume not; but the back of my right hand should remind me of assumptions....
So what's next, oh night of my life?
In the words of Robert Jordan, "Read, And Find Out."
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