Melvyn

I've just been admonished for my failure to post much recently. A lot of times, I have nothing interesting going on, like Dave does, or nothing witty to say, like Jo-Na, or nothing insightful to say, like Åsa. I do tend to post more than Shari or Michael, but that could change, also.

So to keep up appearences, here's a picture of my last pet, Melvyn.



I picked up Melvyn the same day I got my iguana tattoo. Turns out one of the artists wanted to give up his. So I woke up one morning with no iguanas, and went to bed with two, in a way.

Jo or Na wondered what kind of iguana owner I was. I didn't walk shirtless down State Street with him and I didn't try to pick up anyone with him. I mainly just let him wander around the house, freaking out at his own reflection. Sometimes I would help him discard his dead skin, rub his dewlap, trim his toenails (I have scars from those), or feed him.

Unfortunately, Melvyn died of kidney failure. People, even vets, will feed them animal protein. Melvyn had a fair bit before I got him. It takes a while, but he died when he was 4, but I got him big and fat before then.

Anyway, there's one pet I've had amongst the dozens my family has had.

Link to Pictures

Hey Asa,

Here's the link for your pictures.

Tagged, D'oh

Ok, so I got tagged by Asa, which means I have to list a few songs that I've been listening to recently. Like her, I didn't know what this was until now. This is a list that's hard to pare down, since I listen to music something like 13.45 hours of every day: at work, at home, in the car, with my ipod. So, I hit random in my player and here a few songs that popped up:

Here She Comes Now: Velvet Underground (absolutetly unappreciated in their own time and underrated now.

Playground Love: Air (This is how I know Air, from the Virgin Suicides soundtrack)

The Man Who Sold the World: Nirvana verison (I like the Bowie one a little better)

Risingson: Massive Attack (From a great album, one of the best of the last ten years)

Curse of a Fallen Soul: Dropkick Murphys (In Milwaukee in October!)

Highly Illogical: Leonard Nimoy (Highly scarry music)

Hot Love: T. Rex (Everyone knows how much I love the album)

Tenement Funster: Queen (You can always tell the Roger Taylor songs: girls, cars, teenage stuff)

And She Was: Talking Heads (There was this time in college that I could hear the highway breathing while watching this girl run around)

Sunday Morning Coming Down: Johnny Cash (This song is true to life)

Staralfur: Sigur Ros (At the Orpheum here in town! Shit, I better get tickets soon.)

Milk: S.O.D. (Ah, my metalhead roots. Wheat Thins and Beer.)

Kaze Wo Atsumete: ??? (This is from the Lost in Translation soundtrack and the name is in Japanese characters. Sorry)

What aa Little Moonlight Can Do: Billie Holiday (Voice of an angel, life of a fallen soul)

Anyway, there's a lot more where that came from, but I don't have room or readers' interests. One hour to go and I'm off for the weekend.

Windows 95

My nephew, Ben, is autistic and autistic children's minds work differently from ours. They have certain obsessions and have delayed social development. One of Ben's obsessions is what version of Windows everone is running and he'll remember six months down the line. He also knows what stuff is in each version and that Windows 95 sucks, since he has an old computer with it for his games.

On the social development side, he'll say things at inappropriate times. My sister decided to prohibit Ben from using bad words, so he won't use them at the wrong time. He can't say someone is stupid, mean, or anything like it. So the yesterday, he was pissed off at my sister and he said "You're Windows 95!" He also called her a banana.

Autism Ribbon

My nephew Ben is autistic, so I'm adding this ribbon to the side of my blog. I need to post it so I can link to it.

I'm a proud 1996 graduate of Macalester College. It's a relatively informal school where you had direct access to every professor. I didn't get my registration materials while I was studying in England, but all I had to do was sport a shirt and tie, walk into each professor's office, and get signed into each class the day they started.

Try as the administration did to put some "official" school spirit in the student body, we always prided ourselves on defining our own spirit, dour as that may have been at times. We had a lot of colorful characters, both likeable and not. We had Sven, who wore a viking helmet and pissed on random bushes on campus; Grimace, who sported a 'fro and any chemical pleasure you desired; Ben, who wore skirts and rode big wheels to class; Bowman, a complete slob; Rebecca Newman, who sang to squirrels (which is the only sort-of nice thing I can say about her) and many, many more. But instead of using their imaginations, they came up with this mascot.



Meet Mac, a chipper-looking Scotsman. I lived in Scotland for a short time and I never saw a Scotsman look this happy, even with beer. This mascot looks like he's hopped up on cocaine and NO2 AND has a banana shoved up his ass.

For shame.....

Misfits and Cracked Ribs

Somehow, when I see I misfit, I wonder what caused that person to cross my path. I'm not exactly sure why, except I'm not the typical person myself. Typical people aren't interesting to wonder about mostly because, well, they're typical. Misfits allow your imagination or sympathies, depending on your mood, to wander.

The other night, my roommate and I were enjoying the smokefree atmosphere of Mickey's along with a beer (or two, or three*) when a man in his 40's walked in. If you don't know Mickey's, it's the bar where someone will be arguing about the genius of alt-country, you can hear T. Rex and Johhny Cash on the juke box, and I'm at the upper end of the age range. A 40+ person is noticable. He had a supercuts hair cut, wore a Three Stooges shirt that bulged around his middle, and, well, was a misfit, at least for the location. He order a beer, sat down at the rail along the outside wall, watched the tv in the corner, and shook his leg feverously. He talked to no one, looked at no one, and was in his own world.

Now I'm working on a back story for him. I figure he's divoriced, has a 17 year-old son named Ted, works in administration for the school system, and owns his own house. Now I'm not sure why he's out for a beer. I need help on that one. Any ideas?

Oh, I also cracked a rib when I flipped off my bike a couple weeks ago and it hurts when I sneeze.




*This smoking ban in Madison is turning out to be bad for my health.