Try Not To Kill Anyone With A Blueberry

One of the only things I like about working is the people you get to meet. Every now and then you get to meet those who are truly extraordinary.

dizzo - I wish you the very best. I hope that you get every-single dream you can dream up. You deserve all the good things that come your way. Thanks for all the times we've spent together, laughing and quoting all those movies that no-one's ever heard of. I'll come out to see you soon. I'm sure you'll know where to find the best food, bands, and women(easy..just to admire from afar) by the time I get there. Actually I'm kind of counting on it.

There's just no way to express what a great friend you are. Thanks for everything. Be safe, be happy, and keep in touch. When we meet again, we'll laugh until we puke. Or until they kick us out of the restaurant for discussing fruitbats and the disadvantages of fucking pirates.

A quote for you - Take care friend.

Marty. Y'know what we got here? Motherfuckin' Charlie Bronson. Mr. Majestyk. - Drexl Spivey

Good Music And Heavy Lifting

Writing about music is like dancing about architecture. - Thelonious Monk.

When working, I really like listening to our local public radio station. As background noise goes it's very relaxing and can make work somewhat tolerable. The odd thing is that when some people approach me they ask why I'm listening to a lullaby. In their experience maybe all the classical music they have heard is around Christmas or indeed in some lullaby they have their children listen to before bed. It never occured to me that classical music may not be a part of everyone's life as it has to my own.

My parents have always listened to classical music. Some of my oldest memories are of listening to Bach, Chopin, and Brahms. It was always on. These blissful sounds were only punctuated by sounds of All Things Considered, and the Prairie Home Companion. I just thought this was normal. My brother and I also played the violin for awhile. This was an unsuccessful attempt to expose us to music. We also had a very important role in our former church's handbell choir. My uncle was the music director; he had only women in the choir which created a problem. None of them could ring the two heaviest set of bells. So we were recruited, my uncle knowing full well that we could not read music. So we had quite a few performances and eventually got to where my brother and I did not have to count out loud or nod our heads to keep pace with the music that we were playing. Good times with really heavy bells to ring (imagine a hand bell the size of a medium pail). But that's my exposure to playing music. Sports came a calling and then I was required to hate all things band. It was policy.

As I grew up and out of the folk's house I really did not listent to that much classical. But with onset of children and working in office enviroments I've found myself listening to it much more. It's funny how we turn into our parents and emulate what they've been doing for years. All of this without consciously thinking about doing it. I hope that my kids will do the same. Of all the music I've heard, classical touches me on a so many levels. It's comforting, inspiring, and calming. It can make me sad or motivate me. Below you will find a list of some of my favorite classical pieces of music and why I love them so. If you have not heard them, call into your local public radio station and request them, dedicate the request to Will theThrill - public radio DJ's love repeating zany names on the air.

Pachabel's Canon in D - I asked my wife to marry me with this piece playing on the stereo in our dinkly little apartment. I also was played during her precession at our wedding. Listening to this always takes me back to those time, when we where young and not yet being exhausted by our children.

Vivaldi - Four Seasons - The first time I heard all of this music was actually during a movie called, not surprisingly, The Four Seasons. It's a great movie accentuated by great music. If you've never seen the movie it's worth the rent.

J.S. Bach -Toccata and Fugue in D minor - You know, I've always associated this piece of music with Dracula. But when I looked into it(mostly for the spelling) there is no connection to the Bram Stoker novel at all, either through plays or movies. I remember my uncle playing the Toccata on the organ at our family's church on Halloween night. Our church had a carillon in the tower and I can remember being kind of freaked out walking at night with that music playing.

Tchaikovsky - The 1812 Overture - it has cannons. Enough said.

Rachmaninoff - Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini - This piece of music was used extensively in the movie Somewhere In Time with Christopher Reeve. A haunting piece of music which fits perfectly into the elation and tragedy that takes place in this film. Let me expound on that by saying that the end of this movie is the biggest BUMMER in the history of film.

Wagner - Ride of the Valkyries - not sure if you've heard this or not? Remember the Illinois Nazis in the Blues Brothers? This is the theme of the car chase leading up to the proclamation of love and their eventual demise. Great use of a often parodied piece of music.

Handel - Water Music Suite No. 1 in F major - this was the theme music for the greatest cooking show of all time. The Frugal Gourmet. Before the Food Network had cooking on all the time, tuning in to watch Jeff Smith cook was alot of fun. Turns out he was accused of trying to diddle some people working for him and he was forced to retire. Too bad, it was a great show to kill an afternoon with.

There are others to be sure. Honestly - there are so many pieces of classical music that I love and don't really know what they are. Most of my favorites have to do with a movie where I first heard them. Oh well, whatever gets you the exposure I guess. Please post about a favorite piece of classical music of your own. If you don't know the name, post where you heard it and I'll see if I can find it. Just don't ask for a reunion tour of the handbell choir, most of those ladies are dead and my brother and I have been dodging heavy lifting for years...

Ohio - Too Much To Discover

When driving anywhere east from the state of Michigan one must pass through Ohio. I'm sure when living in Ohio it seems like anywhere else. Home is where you hang your hat and all that. But when required to drive through Ohio to get somewhere other than Ohio, it has a few drawbacks. Most of which we've discovered on our numerous trips to the East Coast or West Virginia. Allow me to touch on a few and feel free to add your own.

Ohio has a 65 mph speed limit. Michigan and West Virginia have a 70 mph speed limit. So for the longest part this particular trip you have to slow down. This is truly annoying. The cops in Ohio seems to benefit from this most of all as most people coming through are already driving at a 80 to 85 mph clip and are easy pickings. It's frustrating to get into a nice pace of driving, then having to slow down for the benefit of the people of Ohio. Being that most of Ohio is flat and barren, what's the yank with raising the speed limit? To benefit visitors, who if driving the turnpike, are already paying to drive through your state?

Drivers in Ohio are a curious breed indeed. It's as though to get a driver's license in Ohio you have to be adept at driving in the LEFT lane. They just camp there and look at you in the rear-view window confused, why would anyone want to go faster than me? So passing in the right lane becomes a necessity quite often. As we pass I take a hard look and the person or persons that I have been cursing from behind. They just don't seem to understand the faster on the left thing. They just look back at me as if I'm a maniac who's going to be in a horrible accident, just because I wanted to get somewhere quicker.

The landscape of Ohio is not very interesting at all. The surface if the moon is more interesting that most of what I've seen of Ohio. It's just flat, barren of anything of discernible interest, and to top it off you have to go slower and take all of that nothing in. I think it should be a rule that anytime I drive through Ohio they should set something large on fire. Maybe a building or one of the numerous strip malls. If I knew that there was going to be something interesting to see, or something interesting to remember, that would really make my trips a lot more fun. I should call the governor and see if we can set something up.

Don't get me wrong. I'm sure the people of Ohio are very nice and that they think that where they live is also nice. What I'm saying that a nice tunnel with speeds of 90 plus mph going under Ohio would be great. Why won't the governor take my calls??

Top O' The Morning To You

With tomorrow being St. Patrick's Day, and me being somewhat Irish, I was thinking about what exactly I associate with my Irish heritage. There are many things that are not only Irish, but that I blame on that ancestry anyway. So if you don't agree, or think that your ancestry has similar faults, please post away.

What could be more traditionally Irish that a good set of freckles? I have them in spades. Usually they do not bother me at all. That is until I want to go outside. I don't just get sunburn kids, I burst into flames. On the beach I provide a litmus for all others on the beach as to when to apply sunscreen. Personally I wear SPF 50. That's right, I basically apply household spackle when I go anywhere in the sun. I have not taken my shirt off at a pool or beach in years. My last burn was so bad that I toyed with the idea of wearing a HAZMAT suit while bathing, but that would probably scare people, so I just where a shirt and lather up the rest of my exposed skin. Oh, it doesn't end there - my skin gets so dry in our endless Michigan winters, I have to lube up every single morning so as not to itch all day long. People, I have pieces of skin falling off my face the size of Rhode Island if I don't use enough lotion. So the skin sucks, but the upside is that I would make a really nice speckled handbag if one were so inclined to use my skin. But as I've stated this bag could only be used indoors. Outside you'd have a bag so red that it would certainly clash with anything, anyone could possibly be wearing.

Gloria Estefan says that the rhythm is going to get you. In my case she was dead wrong. I have no rhythm at all. To keep pace with any rhythm at all I have to do one of three things. The first is that I have to count, ALOUD. The second is that I have to snap my fingers, you know, the cool way that makes women at the clubs swarm to you. Finally, I have to bite my lower lip until it bleeds. Even when all of these things are done in conjunction, I still end up looking like I've lost a ferret down my pants. Really, it's not pretty. So what I do I make up for this deficiency? By sitting at the bar, chain smoking, and nodding my head to the music. I find this is the best for all people around. It saves me from people placing their hand on my shoulder and asking that I stop right now. In my defense, I smoke and nod with reckless abandon.

Most of you know that I am not a big drinker. Why? Let's just say that I have been given far to much personality to drink effectively. Is this because I'm Irish? Do I think that being a descendant from a particular area that is makes me more fond of the spirits? Absolutely. I'll sum this up by sharing a quip about my homeland:

Why did God invent whiskey?
So the Irish would never rule the world

Have a great St. Paddy's day. Be safe, be green, and hope you don't need penicillin to clear that up.

Want A Sign Of The Apocalypse? I've Got Two...

As it turns out, my brother has started his own blog. It can be found at: http://culeburger.blogspot.com/
As most of you may know, my brother and I are the result of a multiple birth. We are twins. If you even think about asking if we're psychic, we will know and proceed to think to eachother just how dumb a question that is. Now that we are both on the internet, in our own spaces, the world will officially end at any moment. So before this happens, please take a look at his blog. His writings are funny and most likely better written than mine. If you're not sure who Cullen is, he has been posting on my blog as Fiberous Maximus. Who's Culeburger? Well that is what our buddies in high school used to call him. I can't remember exactly why, but I was assassinating brain cells at a high rate of speed in those days, so forgive me.

So check out his site. I've posted the link above and it's listed in my link list to the right. Check out both sites daily. Add us to your bookmarks or favorites. Why not? It's not like your reading that much interesting stuff out there. C'mon, you know you want to...

Where A Parent Can Be A Kid

So yesterday, one of my son's friends from school had a birthday party at Chuckie Cheese's. Now for those of you who have not experienced CC's, it's a place were kids run rampant and parents just sit and are grateful that they don't have to chase anyone for awhile. Video Games, really bad - but strangely addictive pizza, machines that dispense and count tickets for the purchase of cheap toys, yeah it's a whirlwind of excitement. CC's is one of the only places where everything is is predictable. You know what you're going to get every time you go there. Not many places I can go in my life, especially with my children,that can get a predictable result.

Now there are some things about CC's that I don't like at all. First off, I don’t care for Chuckie's animatronic band. There are giant stuffed animals with moving eyes and arms who sing to pre-recorded music. My youngest saw them and recoiled from them like they were about to eat him. Rightly so, these things are creepy, and when they break down even more so. For instance, Chuckie was able to turn from side to side and blink. But his mouth was broken (probably from eating too many children) and did not move. Basically he just stood there blinking and shaking from side to side. I mentioned to my wife that he looked like he was having an epileptic seizure. The second thing I don't like is the employee who's dressed up like Chuckie who walks around. Since he doesn't make any noise while doing this, he sneaks up on you and that is not fun. Again, my youngest did not like him at all. Once while at CC's I was playing a game with my oldest and the person dressed up like Chuckie approached me from behind and started stroking my shoulder. This did not please me at all. If this was a prank to freak out a unsuspecting parent it was brilliantly executed. I still wake up at night thinking about being fondled by Chuckie.

While there, Cam and I were playing a game based on Star Wars. He was playing and I was watching him and giving encouragement. When his game was complete, he asked me if I wanted to play. I said sure. So I began playing the game and was able to complete all three levels of the game. Suddenly I looked behind me and there was about 100 boys standing around me watching me play the game. They were all asking each other if I was their Dad. Cam proudly appeared next to me while playing and announced the throng of boys that I was indeed his Dad. Evidently in the world of five year olds having a Dad who rocks at video games is a big deal. I was glad I was able to provide this source of pride for my son. Soon after, the adulation turned to frustration as the 35 year old was beginning to overstay his welcome on the game. Parents were beginning to give me, "Why don't you let the kids play?" looks. Even though I was doing well, duh - destroyed the previous high score by like a gazillion - I ended my turn and Cam and I went on to play other games. It was a proud moment to be sure. Hey, I am not above getting admiration from a group of five year olds for kicking ass on a video game. All those years of skipping classes and hanging out at the arcade really did pay off.

Chuckie Cheese's has the worst pizza in the history of the world. It tastes like cardboard with greasy, sloppy cheese carelessly thrown on top with an obligatory topping or two. That being said, I cannot stop eating this pizza. When you go to a birthday party at CC's, they have about a dozen pizzas sitting around. Once the kids have their slices and have departed for the games, the parents just sit around staring at uneaten pizza. Emily suggested that I take the pie in front of us and offer it to some of the other parents. The look I gave her was one of unbelievable indignation. For her to suggest that I take a perfectly good pizza, which was obviously left there just for me, and offer it up as a sacrifice to the masses? So what did I do? The only thing I could do in such a delicate situation, I defiantly ate the remainder of the pizza. Survival of the fittest in it's truest from. Get your own damn pizza.

Some of the games at CC's give kids tickets which they can exchange for prizes. Cam, his mother and I collected a modest amount which he exchanged for items which I'm sure to step on in the middle of the night. Some parents and their children turn this joyous exchange of tickets for toys into a cottage industry. Suddenly it's a competitive sport. We all stand at the ticket "eater" and size up the other parents and just how many tickets they were able to collect for their kids. As for me, I don't really participate, although I will say that my son was able to get way cooler prizes that those other losers..um..kids.

So if you have some time to kill and happened to have available children, visit your local Chucky Cheese's. You'll have a great time, but don't even think about beating my high score on the Star Wars game or eating my pizza...

A Domestic Insurgent

Every woman in my life is smarter than me. Every single one. Now let me qualify what I mean by smarter. The amount of stuff that they can juggle is mind-boggling. Most of these women are mothers and like my wife, can keep track of so much shit that I go cross-eyed trying to keep up. My wife for instance, she juggles the kids, teaching 5 sections of English per day, and a husband who some might call challenged. She handles all this with so much grace I wonder how she does it. It's no wonder she falls asleep like a narcoleptic at a Yanni concert. She's busy. I try to help. I lift the heavy things when I'm supposed to, reach the top shelf in the kitchen as my wife is shortish, I do what I can.

You know what I do best of all? I get in the way. I'm a complete nuisance to my wife when she is trying to accomplish anything. If there is a drawer that has something she needs, I'm standing in front of it. Sometimes when there is a bill that she needs to pay, I casually throw it away thinking that anything from a bank must be junk mail. When she's trying to get the kids to eat a healthy meal, I saunter out with a Little Debbie confection that immediately turns the kids attention from green beans to Swiss cake rolls. I'm like living with a roommate who's smoked to much grass. I don't really contribute anything, and the hope is that I won't eat everything including the veneer off the cupboard doors. Why does she tolerate such a pain in the ass being around? Frankly, it's due to me being dashingly handsome with huge money making potential. Seriously, I'm like The Bachelor with an old flannel shirt, house shoes, and gas that occasionally smells like the cat-house at the zoo. That's right. I'm what you'd call a major catch.

The bane of my home existence is ice-cube trays. If my life depended on it, I will not refill an ice cube tray. I don't even think about it. I take what I need, and if it's the last one I'll look at it as if I'm supposed to due something, dismiss it, and put it right back in the freezer. My hope is that it will magically refill itself. It never does and what we end up with is people over to the house, and there is no ice at all. Just 4 really cold empty ice cube trays staring up at me. What is my deal? It's not an overwhelming amount of work to refill and ice-cube tray. I just can't do it. It also gives my wife and I the chance to discuss this particular shortcoming of mine with some frequency. You know, bonding. So until I get help for my 'problem' we'll just have to wait for one of them fancy refrigerators that makes the ice for you. Not that this will take away from any of the ice- cube making effort that I'm currently not doing. But it will probably be shiny, which is always a plus.

My ass has an alarm on it. Most husbands will admit secretly to having one too. This alarm is triggered when we think about sitting down. It's not as loud as a fire alarm, but what's important here is that only one person can hear it. My wife. When she hears this alarm, and senses that I want to sit, she knows that it's time to ask for something. She works hard, I know this. She deserves all the pampering I can give. I just wish that she would ask for these things BEFORE I'm in the motion of sitting. I'm going to blow a disc or something doing this. I'm not churning out the crunches like I used to you know (as if I've ever). I'm up going for a smoke, getting something truly unhealthy to eat, or just picking up after the kids, why not ask me then? Let me repeat, I'M UP. No, the alarm insures that I will be mere seconds from comfort when I'm asked to change a diaper, get another juicy, or go rotate the tires on the minivan. Curse my ass alarm, I will have no peace as long as it's working. I've tried to disable it, but that gets me in more trouble that you can imagine. Are there worst things in life? Sure. I'm just saying that if I end up in traction that you will know it due to being asked to clean the garage in mid-sit.

I suppose the trick is for me to do as little damage as possible at home. My wife continues to juggle the universe and I sit in a chair and watch with amazement. Someday all of you may be able to come over someday and see this arena for yourselves. This is sure to be an evening of good converation and drink. Please don't ask for ice...

Geek Gallery #1

I found this during my Internet travels today. Don't know what this is? Ask a geek. If there are any Whovians out there reading this, please post about why this fictional beer is so interesting. I would take the time to explain it myself, but truthfully that would take far too long. Long live the Doctor!

Geek Love

So, I'm a geek. There's not much arguing that point. Sci-Fi, Role-Playing, Video-Games, Movies, Comics, I love it all. I've found that over the years of working in IT there are many of us. We all come in varying degrees of nerdness, but we all have one thing in common. We repel women. Now with me being married one might ask how this is possible. Well, I hid my geekdom very very well. Then after my wife and I were married, I sprung it on her. It was too late for her. Now she lives with a man who knows the magical resistance of a sverfilbin gnome, but can't fix a broken door knob. My wife and I cannot watch any of the Star Wars movies together. I tend to get rather chatty during Lucas's epic tale. I feel the need to regale her with trivia about Jawas, the physiology of Hutts, and the interworkings of a E-11 Imperial Blaster Rifle. She however, doesn't care to know this information. Somewhere I my head I just can't figure out why anyone would not want to know that Ewoks are not short Wookies and that you can't use Force Lightning without real hands( i.e. Vader). She asks me to turn the channel or takes herself and the children to a safe part of the house until the movies have finished.

Once, while watching an episode of Star Trek TNG, my wife pointed out that the actions of the Enterprise crew in the story would violate the edicts of the Prime Directive. I wasn't sure that I heard her correctly, so I asked her to repeat herself. Looking peevishly back at me, she said never-mind. Knowing that I had caught a glimpse of something special I pushed the issue. She then proceeded to recite the basic principles of the Prime Directive to me. I was frozen in this moment of time. I laughed out loud and hugged her. I asked about other geeky information she has been hiding from me. Alas, she had none at the time. Slowly but surely she is picking up information that will never help her, but that will continue to endear her to her husband in a way that I cannot describe.

My son and I constantly review all sorts of nerdy stuff. Before bed we usually read Cameron a story. I've been reading him the Encyclopedia of DC Comics. He absolutely eats this stuff up. We watch Teen Titans and look up the characters we've never heard of. Find out their powers and history. It's really a lot of fun. My son knows the differences between DC and Marvel comics. He told his Grandmother the other day that Metropolis and Gotham City are not real cities, but that Marvel Comics have cities like New York and San Francisco that are real places. What a moment. So we keep an eye out for new superhero books and TV shows that we can watch and read about together. Oh, he still plays hockey and soccer and like lots of different things, but in geekdom, he and I are truly father and son. That we have that together is very special.

What have we learned here today? That Will knows far too much useless information. That one should NEVER ask will about this information unless they want to be overwhelmed with it until they cannot breathe. In large groups of women, Will is a detriment. He will eventually say or refer to something that will make all said women run away screaming. That Will loves his family enough to give them all sorts of information that they can never possibly use. Finally, that Will knows enough to use this geek-power only for good.

Anyone out there know how to fix a door knob?

In China, They Just Call It Food

I love Chinese Food. I would eat it everyday. It makes me so happy this food. It's combinations of sweet and crunchy, hot and noodle-y, it's a truly great thing. We eat a lot of Chinese food at our home. Probably too much so. In addition to home, I've recently found a great place near where I work, so I have it for lunch at least once a week. Now I like this food despite the fact that there are foods included in Chinese that are the color green. I'm fond of very few green foods. Iceberg lettuce and cucumbers are about all I'll tolerate. But in Chinese cuisine, the veggies are so fried, woked, and for all I know sandblasted, that they barely taste like any thing at all. With the addition of ample amounts of soy sauce, this is even more so. With the exception of shrimp dishes, I tend to like most Chinese food.

I use the traditional Chinese eating utensils, the ancient chopstick. Truthfully, they make my hand cramp-up like a mother, but I figure when in Rome. If you are going to attempt this, I would recommend the round chopsticks if you can get them. The square ones tend to be a little less comfortable. It takes a little practice but once you've got it, it takes shoveling food into your piehole to a whole new level. Much to the wife's chagrin I usually take the bowl and hold it right up to my face. It's not pretty, but really makes using chopsticks easier. The final upside of using chopsticks is the intruder factor. It is not unknown for a protagonist in various kung fu films to use a pair of chopsticks to defend himself. I would prefer to throw them at the eyes of the bad guy and impale him to my dining room wall. This is hard to practice though, especially since my dog won't stand still long enough. I'll just have to keep trying.

I usually order General Tso's chicken. This is nice and sweet with just the right addition of heat. But lately I've been all about the noodle. Beef Lo-mien is my newest love, followed up closely by the plain Lo-mien with soy sauce. Hey, what's good for Rick Deckard is good enough for me. Not sure of the reference? Watch Blade Runner. If you've not seen it - examine your head, then see it. At the beginnings of the film our hero order two of something, perhaps eggrolls, and then the almighty side of noodles. This precedes him getting picked up by the cops to help with the local replicant problem. That's all I'll say.

So go out and rent Blade Runner (try to get the directors cut on DVD if possible) and order some Chinese Food. This will make for a fun evening, even more fun than throwing chopsticks at your dog. If only by only just a little.

Note: This article is for entertainment purposes only. I have never thrown a chopstick at my dog. Not to mention that he would just eat it and I would end up cleaning up poop-kabobs.

Jack Of All Trades, Master Of None

I know how to do a little bit of everything. I'm not particularly good at any one thing, I look at it as keeping my options open. If I just do one thing well then people will start setting expectations. I really can't be having that. Once an expectation is set, then it's all downhill. Due to the human condition of expecting more out of other people than we do ourselves, people will assume that you are more competent than you are. Especially when you've done something correctly. So, being able to pick and choose these things is really much easier.

Now I'm a professional(stop giggling please). I do the job I've been asked to do by the people that pay me. But being a project manager for a software company was not really what I was dreaming about when I was younger. Truth be told, I'm still not really sure what I want to be doing. I reasonably sure it's not this - nice work, but not exactly using the creative skills that I've honed over years of annoying the shit out of people. Here's what I've found out about my former dreams jobs:

• You can't be an Astronaut and smoke. Not even a little.
• Evidently, they want Marine Biologists to know some math. Yeah, no. Not to mention the base pay begins at nothing, followed up with nothing and a bucket of fish.
• Bounty Hunters are creepy people who catch other creepy people. Yeah, carrying a side-arm might be fun, but dealing with too many people with mullets makes me break out.
• Acting requires one to hang out with other actors and actresses. This is not what you'd call tolerable.
• Medicine - I mentioned the math? There's more of that needed here, plus there's the touching other people because it's your job to do so. Tre-Icky.
• Being a Cowboy requires you to do a lot of work. Sometimes that work requires you to ride a horse and occasionally sleep outside. So there's work, animals that poop bigger that I do, and camping - I'm struggling with an upside here...
• Imperial Stormtrooper - aside from them not being "real", and that evidently their blast-proof armor is susceptible to any hero - with a blaster - that happens to comes along, it's not a realistic choice for me. Although those helmets are, and always have been, very cool.
  
  

So what am I doing? Well it's not a dream job, but it keeps the family fed and the mortgage paid. I'm kind of hoping to write for a living one day. Again, not sure about who or what, but doing this has always been something I enjoy. Who knows, maybe American Idol? I can sing as poorly as any of those pathetic souls. Or I'll just give up all pretenses and finally succumb to gay porn. The world is my oyster!! Figures I'm allergic...

The Snot-Boy cometh...

It seems that the sinus infection I caught a couple of months back is making an triumphant return. I am quite literally drowning in my own mucus. Drilling a hole in the middle of my head sounds like such like a good idea right now. I wonder if I could do bird calls through it? Smoking through it would be neat. Whatever, I need to reduce the pressure! I'm anxiously awaiting the inevitable decompression and the glorious release that it brings. I hope that I'm not talking to someone during this event like the last time it happened. That was a very uncomfortable moment, " Is your head actually squeaking Will?" Those of you that know me know that I have a very large head. So when I my sinuses decompress, it is large and loud. I'll post a recording if I can catch it.

...and my wife said that this blog would be silly.

Not the most interesting post I'll grant you, but hey, I'm sick.