Saturday, August 16, 2003

And Lennie Said, "I'll Love It And Hug It And Call It George."
Another quintessential childhood mark has been passed today: I got my first dog.
To add to the "aww, shucks, this is just like the movies" aura thing going on, I picked out a mutt from the Humane Society. A puppy that would not come out of her cage from fear. A mutt who then licked me.
Oh goodness, just cue the sentimental music now and get it all over with.
She'll be four months old in September. She's a terrier mix, with every shade of brown imaginable in her coat, with big brown eyes to match. She's scared of matresses. Her name is Mia, but that has to change. It's not good for a dog to be labled "missing in action."
I'm campaigning for "Spigot", but no one seems to agree with me. They all want to name her Winky, on account of her beautiful eyes, but this just reminds me of that terrier in Best In Show. Then again, I did like that movie. And it comes with a song.
"God loves a terrier / yes he does / God loves a terrier / that's because / brown sturdy bright and true / they give their hearts to you / God didn't miss a stitch / be it dog or be it bitch / when he made the Norwich merrier / with his cute little 'derrier' / yes God loves a terrier!"
Well. That's enough of that.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 2:31 PM

Friday, August 15, 2003

It's Like A Beacon Of Light Shining From My Mouth
I cahn't tahlk right noow becahsh tere are trips off goo in ma mouf. On ma teesh, actchewallwy. Tey are suppossed to whi-en them. Ma mouf is ge-ing very dry becahsh I cahn't swawow. Tuh sawiva would wipe tuh trips awahy.
I wook a bit wike a woodshuhck aht tuh momend, wid ma teesh awl hanging oud. Terefore, I am in hiding.
Chome peepwle ashk to be awlone to cwlean tere mindchs. I am awlone to cwlean ma teesh.

Tis bah-er be word id.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 2:33 PM

Thursday, August 14, 2003

On Bullshit, Rain, And Cookies: A Short Story In 6 Acts


So there I was, sitting in a Minnesota terminal yet again waiting for my connecting flight to Seattle. It was late, the plane was delayed, and I was pretending to read "A Seperate Peace" (Let eyes drift over page for 32 seconds. Glance up. Turn Page. Rinse. Repeat.) On one of my routine glances up, I happened to notice a woman with huge buckteeth. Spaces between each individual tooth, everything. Huge. She's carrying the good old travel rag "USA TODAY". The headline? "Ahh-nold will 'pump up Sacramento'".
"Bullshit." I said, in utter disbelief and pure pity for residents of California.
Little did I know that this was only the beginning of my adventures in bullshittyness in Starbucksland.

Act I
In which Melly arrives in Seattle only to see it's not raining

I think the locals are just antisocial, and cooked up this rain shit to scare away potential tourists. Like they need rumors like that to quell tourism when they already have taxi drivers on overpriced caffiene kicks.

Act II
In which Melly explores downtown, attempts to count the number of Starbucks she sees, and loses count after 14

Space Needle. Pike Place Market. Hell, even the Elephant Car Wash. None of them stand up to the sugar glories of the legendary Cow Chip Cookies. Located next to, yes, a Starbucks in the Pioneer Square District, these ooey gooey cookies come in two sizes: Cow Chip and Bull Shit. Mmm mmm good.

In which Melly goes to local record store and buys the Rooney album

I needed a music fix. It was on sale. It has a bear on the cover. Bear. Bull. Coincidence? I think not. My psyche was rebelling.

Act IV
In which Melly goes to a national park to see mountains and shit

Look, I don't care if a rock is 8 centimeters tall or 8,000 feet tall. It's still a hunk of rock. I'm not all big into the beauty of nature stuff. Nevertheless, I was a good person and obligingly visited Mount Rainier. Therefore, don't try to punish my cynism by feeding me bullshitty national park service food that causes me to barf on the side of a mountain trail.

Act V
In which Melly attends a Mariners game

I like good baseball games. The Mariners are a good team. Therefore, I would have enjoyed this particular game if not for the Toronto behind me holding a sign that said "Ichiro is Japanese For Shit", which I found to be very rude and uncalled for, even if Ichiro's goatee-thing is a bit odd looking.

In which Melly takes a cruise to Victoria, B.C., but nobody cares because they need a bathroom break

Act VI(oh thank god this is the last one)
In which Melly goes home and gains knowledge

I'm always complaining that my family takes educational, stressful vacations, instead of just lying on a beach somewhere. But the most important thing I learned this trip I learned in the airport:
When one says the word "caution" with a British accent through a crappy public address system, it sounds a whole fuck of a lot like the word "bullshit". As in, "Bullshit. You are reaching the end of the moving walkway." I'm sure that this could eventually have consequences.

Fresh squeezed by melly at 8:54 AM