This weekend, I got the chance to go down to Hocking Hills and check out all there is to do there. I was surprised how beautiful it was. Saturday night was clear and the stars were unbelievable.

The hilight of the weekend other than sleeping in a tipi or teepee, whatevah, was ziplining at Hocking Hills Canopy Tour. I got the video from my camera and yes, that’s an up-my-nose shot half way through. I thought I could get my entire face but I just provided a brief shot of my nostrils. Hot, I know!

The noise you hear is what it sounds like. How do you stop yourself? With the suede gloves you have on your hands and a little pressure (read: friction) on the top of the wire. Trying to grab onto the wire is a no-no, think tearing off your arm in a quick motion. After all, you are going at times about 35mph. Heather and Mark were great guides, even if Heather did call me “Boo” the entire time. That’s a story for another entry. They made the tour fun and took a little bit of the nerves out of zipping down the lines, one of which is 580-some feet long.

So without any further ado, click on the video to experience the rush of Ziplining…

How about a certificate suitable for framing?

Nice nose shot right? I look forward to your comments,

Dear Drivers…

To the effer who decided to turn onto the emergency u-turn on I-71…

Next time, turn on your blinker sooner than five seconds before you exercise that illegal decision. There is a berm on the road that could help you not forces all eight cars behind you to smash into one another. Can you say massive trauma on the highway?? No, say it with me…

I understand your time is more important than everyone else’s. After all, my idiot friend, apparently you haven’t mapped out your route well enough so instead of spending some of your precious time to safely turn around, you’ll put other people’s lives in jeopardy. I mean there may be children or just people looking to have fun this weekend safely.

I hope your “Dukes of Hazzard” antics got you to your location on time and without your underwear stained like mine others who shared the road, oops, your road today.

You’re a peach, and not the Cleveland kind either…

Have You Any Dreams You’d Like To Sell

In this case, yes, yes, I do.

I’m violating a superstition of my mother’s by posting this entry without eating breakfast. The superstition goes if you tell a dream before getting your cereal on or whatevah you claim for breakfast, the dream/nightmare will come true. I did eat Fruity Peebles this morning prior to go to sleep so let’s hope that counts in this time.

So here it goes, straight from the innards of taawd’s mind during the limited amount of REM sleep he got today. (read: more Blue Angel flyovers)

I dreamed I decided to take a two year stint onboard a ship. Not a cruise ship mind you where you might have some fun and see Steven Page hit on two Pittsburgh women while being nabbed for drugs. Not that kind of deal at all. This was more like a Navy (read: Blue Angel association?) ship. I don’t think I enlisted because I remember asking one of my superiors when I might get seasick. She told me if it hadn’t happened while we were out for the first 24 hours it probably wouldn’t. I don’t know if this is true or not but that’s what my brain was making up.

I don’t know what prompted such a dream.

I remember getting onboard the boat with all sorts of luggage because my next two years would be spent at sea. I guess I had become a seaman at that point. I remember seeing all sorts of other people (my brain’s good at this stuff people) and even making friends with some of them. My mind stopped at names. I mean I was only sleeping for about 4 hours, we can’t get too epic with this deal.

Apparently, most of my job during the two year tour would be making sure the boat was clean. The crew made sure it was shipshape especially when it came to dust. I remember seeing all of the places where the people and I were to sleep every night. Everyone had comforters and blankets but that’s when I remember I didn’t have mine. What would I do I thought through this crazy dream.

Being on time was key on this boat, which isn’t a problem for me. Violators had to do push-ups. 10 or 15 the one superior told everyone. I could do those with no problem so I thought if I was late, I would be able to handle the consequences.

So I also asked my superior what happened if I didn’t want to stay on the boat. Had I truly enlisted in this organization (whatever it was). She told nobody ever really left.

Startled, I woke up and began thanking God over and over I was in my own bed, with my comforter, in my place, on dry ground, not packing up to ship off and hearing the sound of the Blue Angels whisk past my window. Effers!

Whew! I don’t want to go to sea.

Okay, I admit this being one of my craziest posts ever but it was such a vivid dream that I thought this actually happened. I’ll also thank you not to analyze it too much, I’ll just say it probably had a lot to do with a massive lack of sleep this week and because I had Chinese food yesterday. That food always messes with me brain. Maybe we were pirates. I dunno!

Blue Angels Callin’

Well, I had to come home early today from work because the Lemon Chicken I got at Rock Bottom wasn’t apparently cooked right last night at Rock Bottom. I needed rest to feel better. No gorey details, just believe me on this one folks.

So I’m sleeping and hoping to catch up on some sleep today but that’s not going to happen, why you may ask? The Blue Angels. Apparently them practicing and showing off for the Cleveland Air Show is a little more important than taawd’s sleep.
They have buzzed my building and I don’t mean with a doorbell about two dozen times this morning. We’re talking close enough to give the pilot a thumbs up, Iceman. I thought at one point they were trying to land on the roof. Well, it felt (and sounded like it).
Take a look at the picture. They’re close but too doggone fast. I mean you can’t hear them until they have passed you up. Those effers… {edit: Now apparently it’s the slower planes’ turns to keep me up — It’s going to be an interesting weekend for downtown dwellers!}

It’s Too Late To Apologize…

I take a lot of flack for the way I say a certain word, sorry.

I’m not apologizing, that’s the word, sorry.

I say sor-ee, not sawr-ee. No, I’m not trying to sound cool like the Canadians, that’s how I’ve always said it. It makes people stop and ask me if I’m from Toronto or something.

My mother says it that way, My grandmother says it that way and I suppose so on and so on…

My friend, Jennie, says my mother may be an illegal immigrant from Canadian. I think not. By the way, Jennie, there’s some link love for ya!

Now who’s sor-ee, take a look at the pronunciation on There are two and check out which one is first in line. Of course, the computer generated voice says it the right wrong way.

I checked out Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary and here’s what it listed:

Main Entry: sor·ry
Pronunciation: ˈsär-ē, ˈsor-e
Etymology: Middle English sory, from Old English sārig, from sār sore
Date: before 12th century

So if you’re offended about the way I apologize, just know that I’m really sawr-ee. {rolls eyes}

Back To School Time

This week almost every school district is headed back to class. Two of my nephews (I almost put both but there are three now) are going to public school for the first time this year. I’m sure and sure hope they will fit right in.

I never had to be the new kid on the block. I started kindergarten and finished the 12th grade in the same district with the same classmates.

I remember in kindergarten, I sat next to my friend, Stephen, I just thought it was okay to talk to him. The teacher told me you couldn’t just talk to someone you had to raise your hand first. I took her quite literally and put my hand in the air and continued talking to Stephen until she quickly said the rule only applied to a question I might have for her. Otherwise, I was told to keep my mouth shut.

Then there was the time in first grade, Mrs. Weldy’s class, when Stephen and I both brought Star Wars action figures into school. He had a Storm Trooper that was dirty and my parents had just bought me one (read: clean). He told the teacher it was his. We both got in trouble but I think I ended up getting mine back. Good best friend, huh? He still maintains I was wrong to this day.

I remember being sick a lot in second grade (read: I didn’t like school much, I wanted to stay home and watch TV) I had a great teacher, Mrs. Elzroth.

In third grade, the entire class got in trouble. We each got taken out in the hall and yelled at by Mrs. Glessner because no one would play with the new girl. Of course, we didn’t want to, she had cooties, first off. She also had a southern accent because she was from West Virginia and none of us could understand her. Kids can be so brutal.

In fourth grade, the teacher, Mrs. Renninger gave me passes to go to the restroom apparently because I always was going there. Hey, I had to pee, don’t blame me, it’s my bladder, teach! She did read us The Great Brain books right after lunch so we had that going for us.

In fifth grade, I actually got called to the principal’s office. Don’t worry, it wasn’t something I did wrong. I kept my nose clean. Apparently, one of my classmates brought their dad’s Playboy to school. That’s a no-no. We all knew who did it. Everybody who got called into the office, told Mr. Bowers the same thing, we pointed the kid out. We didn’t want paddled. He went in for his interrogation and got away with it. I’ll never forget how red his ears were when he walked into the classroom. Apparently, that’s what happened to him when he got nervous, his ears turned red. Liar! I wasn’t taking the heat, I tell ya!

In sixth grade, my teacher’s first name was Dorcus. Her reputation preceded her and so did her name. She scared me to death. She was by the books and she made you listen. She also had a fascination for the English language and was always teaching us words, many of them I still can’t spell. Try abecedarian.

I don’t know what grade I was in at the time but I have the distinction of killing the lunch profits one day in elementary school. I really WAS sick and puked all over the place. Think projectile vomiting at its best, complete with Froot Loops, (Sorry, Matt) orange juice and pizza from the night before. Yum!

The other fun story that I had from elementary school was the restroom. We had a large circular tub that allowed multiple kids to watch their hands at the same time. You’d step on the foot pedal and the water would come on, you’d step off and the water would go off. Some guy came in, apparently thinking he was at the Muni Stadium and pee’d in the sink. Ah, dude, that’s where we wash our hands, put that thing away. He was probably a pervert anyhow.

Here’s the last thing I’ll say from my walk down memory lane. My dad is a notorious jokester. If you have the time, he’s got the jokes. He would always say this to us on the first day.

Dad: How was your first day of classes?
Me: Apparently I didn’t do so good, they tell me I have to go back tomorrow.

It’s his joke not mine but it became a family tradition.

Ah, to be young again,

A Couple Of Questions

Aren’t the Chinese worried about all of the smoke all of those fireworks created? Wasn’t that the big worry of the Olympics, now they’re making it?

Now that the Olympics are over, will everyone be drawn into the Democratic National Convention coverage because they need something to fill their time or will they just go to sleep?

When will Time Warner make good on its claim to upgrade the cable software, Navigator, that they promised would happened in two weeks, two months ago?

Short post, just a couple of things I wanted to put out there…