It was so hot today...

(Stage notes: Sysm pauses for effect, waiting for the audience to respond, "How hot was it." He waits an uncomfortably long time. Sysm expects that the audience will respond a la the Johnny Carson-era "Tonight Show" audience. But that bit of a cultural touchstone has long-since faded from popular cultural currency - leaving Sysm a sad, old man. Leno sucks.)

How hot does a car interior get? How fast? This fast. This hot.

Did you know that athletes sweat (on average) 1 liter per hour?

Well, hey, it's such a hot day, maybe we should just go to the public pool. Or maybe not.

Actual phone conversation:

Uber-younger: Hi Twins-Daddy.

Me: Hi (Uber).

Uber-younger: Is it time to go to sleep? When it gets dark out, people go to sleep.

Me: Except Zombies. They NEVER go to sleep.

Image taken from Zombie-American.

Meet Glen. Glen (Ed Helms of The Daily Show) likes to read, do crosswords, and play basketball. He's on the lookout for a girlfriend. Oh, and one other thing—Glen is a Zombie-American. This educational documentary will help audiences understand the challenges zombies face in our society. As a plea for tolerance, it aims to clear up many of the terrible stereotypes and misconceptions we have about zombies. It is the filmmaker’s hope that this film will help people understand that zombies are just like everybody else...if everybody else is a walking, talking, rotting corpse.

Hey, friends. Nick here.

Not so long ago our good friend Sysm celebrated his 200th post by having a comment orgy. And after we had our fill of watching toothbrush porn we commenced to commenting. When Knitty Kitty almost single-handedly wrote 100 comments Sysm awarded her a prize. A copy of Nude On The Moon, which she was kind enough to talk about the other day.

A precedent had been set. Ubermilf and I began to fight for the 200th comment so as to secure the next prize. As I am here now, writing this, it's safe for you to assume that she was no match for me, and I secured prize number two; the Invasion Of The Bee Girls DVD.

Please allow me to offer a brief summary of the film for you, so that those of you who have been selected to receive the next round of movies can make a well-informed decision.

Invasion Of The Bee Girls (1973)

Hot bee-women sex the life out of a bunch of dudes and then rub latex all over each other's naked bodies. Only Neil Agar of The State Department of Security and Captain Jim Peters of The Peckham PD can stop them. The question on everybody's mind is "Why Neil & Jim? Why, for the love of God, would desire to prevent hot 70's chicks from rubbing latex all over one another?"

Can Neil and Jim "save the day", like idiots? Watch Invasion Of The Bee Girls to find out? Also, hot latex rubbing.

We drove 100 km North of Toronto, to a town called Craighurst. We swam for hours everyday. Me, Chili and NickName all learned to dive. The Sysmistress taught us. We climbed around in a treetop thingie, with zip lines.


We canoed in the Algonquin Provincial Park.



















We saw Niagara Falls for the first time. And we even caught an episode of Yam Roll.



Roughly 2,100 miles of driving. Quite a nice time.

I'm going to post a song (or two) that I like each week for the rest of the year.

The Sleepy Jackson • "You Needed More" from Personality (One Was a Spider, One Was a Bird).

The Bicycles • "Gotta Get Out" from The Good, The Bad, and the Cuddly.

You got a problem with that?

When Sysm celebrated his 200^th post, I had the honour of winning the DVD “Nude On The Moon” and thanks to the Australian postal system, I got to watch the damn thing shortly before his 300^th post. He asked me to do a review of the film for his 300^th post, and after watching it several times, I have to admit it’s a really difficult movie to review. Instead I decided to make a list of things I’ve learned about low budget film making and space travel, but if you want a proper review and tons of pics and clips, go here.

What I learned from Nude on the Moon about low budget film making:

• If you are making a film without any microphones and dubbing is never right, just make sure the audience never sees the characters lips moving.
• If you can’t afford to make a model space ship, just have the characters look at the spaceship from afar and describe its “magnificent glory” then have them climb a water tower.
• Remember Universal Studio’s primitive opening logo? Steal that for the shot of “the view of earth from space”
• Let the actors do their own make-up
• Give the actors 2 costumes, preferable 2 ridiculous looking jumpsuits.
• Explain that there are no reporters at the spaceship launch by having the characters say “It’s a good thing you didn’t tell the press about our spaceship to the moon, it’s best that we leave quietly” because hey, spaceships are quiet right?
• In order to make the film run longer, put in 2 minute scenes of the characters driving around south Florida, listening to music!
• To make the aliens look, well alien, just go down to the dollar store and buy a bunch of novelty headbands with springy doodads sticking six inches out. Don’t bother covering up the headbands.
• You aren’t paying the actors enough to try and make them take better care of unsightly tan lines or to give them all speaking roles, just three characters talking should carry the film.
• Buy one size of speedo and make all the characters wear them, camel toes and moose knuckles for all!

What I learned about Space Travel from “Nude on the Moon”

• You can build a space shuttle in 6 months
• You can takeoff in plainclothes and without helmets.
• Taking off from earth takes ten seconds, and feels like an orgasm.
• On the moon, your space helmet can expose your chin and neck and periodically your entire face.
• A mini scuba tank can give you enough oxygen to 13 hours.
• If you fall asleep while operating a spaceship, it lands all by itself.
• If you land on the moon a group of healthy women in unflattering shiny underwear will greet you but really not be phased by your presence.
• Space aliens get sunburnt asses like humans.

And lastly, if you ever come across a film that has jokes about how bad it is on the DVD jacket, buy it, buy it now!

Thanks to you all for carrying on in my absence. Except the anonymous Belgians. Fuckers comment bombed me. Hence, we now have comment verification.

B.A. - you are the Father, the Mother, and the creepy Uncle of us all. Before B.A., "Snark" was just a term for a Belgian dessert made with shark meat, marshmallows and graham crackers. His Weblog has been around for the better part of ten years. If you don't visit it, daily, then you are truly missing out.

The Harpy Queen - oh, if the one-sentence reviews would return., the World would be a far better place.

Fritz - Rosie O'Donnell could take both of us. Though I think she'd prefer to take you in a decidedly different way.

Tits - your continued aggregation of "hot sex" stories and shopping tips suggests a heretofore untapped market.

Booger - I'm happy to have you here. And, believe me, anyone here will read a well-written counterpoint thoughtfully, But, please remember, as Freud was purported to say, "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

Ubie - As long as you tolerate my love of all things Hall, and all things Oates, I will accept your feelings towards Styx unconditionally.

Nick - Why do all the girls pick on Nick (except for the lovely Miss Kendra)? Don't you realize that if you fuck with Nick, you fuck with me? And does anyone really want to see both Nick and I naked concurrently?

Miss Knit - I'm one post away from 300. Would you like to do the honors with a review of "Nude on the Moon"?

Brooke - You're a bad influence on us. Keep it up.

Miss Kendra - I know you've been sending home-knit goodies to your blogging friends. Please do not send me anything like this.

Al E. Gato - The story I told you was still the highlight of my trip.

We're back. The Sysmob and I travelled spent the week North of Toronto. Stories to follow. A few sights:

Tofutti. It really exists. Who knew?

Loblaw. It really exists, too.

Fangboner Rd. I don't even know where to start with this one.

Your dreams were your ticket out.

Get ready for intense ball-soaring, button-slapping fun!?!


Also, up until twenty seconds ago, I didn't know that it was 'ping pong' spelled backwards.

My costar in the first porno in which I ever received top billing was named Candy Scabs.

True story.

And a whole lot more!

An open letter to James Randi regarding his "One Million Dollar Paranormal Challange."

This naughty nipple-topped pair attaches to your shower wall with the suckers provided, with each bosom having a compartment for shower gel, shampoo or conditioner. To dispense, simply squeeze away.

i think nick and ubie should battle it out iron chef style.

secret ingredient: creepy genetics!

before:



and the after is i think he's eating it from the inside.

SYDNEY, Australia - A man caught with six eggs from endangered species in his underwear as he was preparing to fly to Bangkok was fined 25,000 Australian dollars ($20,000) Monday by a judge who rejected his claim that he only wanted to surprise his girlfriend.

Wayne Frederick Floyd pleaded guilty in February to exporting regulated native specimens without a permit or exemption, an offense that carries a maximum 10-year prison sentence.

Although Judge Martin Sides called it a commercial venture, he said he didn't mandate jail time because the eggs had come from a collection of birds at Floyd's home and hadn't been taken from the wild.

Floyd was about to board a flight from Sydney to Bangkok, Thailand, last November when a customs officer frisked him and noticed a suspicious bulge around his groin, the New South Wales District Court was told. A strip search revealed six eggs hidden inside a stocking in his underwear.

The judge rejected Floyd's claim that he was trying to take the eggs overseas "to surprise his girlfriend."

Two of the eggs never hatched. The others contained two gang gang cockatoos and two galahs, both listed under the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species, which includes species facing extinction unless trade in them is controlled. A galah or cockatoo egg can fetch tens of thousands of dollars when sold overseas.

So let's get this straight. He was caught smuggling cockatoo eggs to Bangkok and was caught when customs found a suspicious bulge in his groin area. There's a joke in here somewhere...

It's Not THAT Big..

Australian Advertisement Cracks me up.

As soon as he gets back, Sysm will be adding one of these to his template.

Bigger Than Cheeses dot com

For one, I enjoy singing along with Styx songs because they involve hand movements as well. ("I've got too much [clap clap!] time on my hands!" and "Mr. Roboto" come readily to mind)

For another, I believe one of their songs clearly and succinctly sums up the parts of the American psyche that need changing. That song is The Grand Illusion.

I am not being sarcastic here.

I think the last line hits the nail on the head:

"America spells competition, join us in our blind ambition
Get yourself a brand new motor car
Someday soon we'll stop to ponder what on Earth's this spell we're under
We made the grade and still we wonder who the hell we are"

I also like the part about the radio, TV and magazines foisting someone else's fantasy onto us and expecting us to adopt it as our own. Unfortunately, too many people do.

So, despite my general distaste for 70's and 80's arena rock, I do like Styx.

Except for "Babe." And probably a few others. But I'm not going to ruin the moment.

More photos of inter-species harmony at the Animal Liberation Front.

You be the judge!

If you fall over or pass out, remember your skirt or dress may ride up. You could show off more than you intended -- for all our sakes, please make sure you're wearing nice pants and that you've recently had a wax."

Editor's notes on "Sweet Child O' (sic) Mine."

Brilliant.

Yam Roll is a nice person. He is a Cowboy Star.

Discuss.

As much as he seems to think he's in on the joke, he's not. He's a creepy, wife-beating, green-screen-dependent, botoxed, tuneless buffoon. Other than that, he's really quite talented.

Chili and I went to see a NASCAR race yesterday. My company has been doing a lot of work with companies that sponsor cars. So the employees were (ahem) strongly encouraged to go to the race. It was interesting. Once. In the same way that a demolition derby or tractor pull is interesting. Again - once. Today I was digging out shrubs. When I return to work tomorrow, people are going to wonder why they let me out of the burn ward.

A few pictures from the race:


I like how the guy kept the cigarette in his mouth while keeping the baby balanced on the windshield. He's making his Baby Mama proud.



Being in the front row looked kind of cool. But it was louder than Hell. And I was born next to O'Hare Airport, so I know from louder than Hell. If we ever go to another race, we'll get a pair of airport traffic control ear covers. The little foam earplugs didn't do much.



B.A. has long said that Dale Earnhardt died for our sins. I thought he was kidding.




Sadly, there was no weekend spotting of the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile. Also of note. Blogger's spell-check thinks "NASCAR" should be spelled "MASCARA." Love that.

Illinois is rather flat. There are lush, rolling hills along the Northwest edge of the state, and at the Southern tip. But, as a whole, it's mighty flat.

Matthiessen State Park, near Utica, is an exception. There's a beautiful little canyon. Easy to scale. The Sysmidgets loved it. There were pools of tadpoles for Flipper. Walls to climb for the twins. And perilous rocks to jump on to cross the river for Chili. I hate to sound like the tourism board. But these kind of trips stick with us a lot more than a trip to an amusement park.

We were at the far part of the canyon, about a mile from where we'd left our car, when a thunderstorm broke out. The Sysmistress had brought along some rain ponchos for the kids. None for us. We were soaked to the skin. But it was warm out, and the rain felt nice and cool. The kids were a bit freaked about being out (in standing water) during a thunderstorm. Understandable. And perfectly rational. So I had them wait in a shelter, and I went to get the car.

We stopped in town to grab some ice cream. Looking at the menu, I said to the Sysmistress, "This has to be a tourist place. The locals must never eat here."

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"The price of a hot dog. Three dollars. Would you buy a hot dog for three dollars at a local place?"

"Hell, no."

But we gladly paid that for the ice cream.

The boys had a friend over yesterday. The kid was telling racist jokes. I told him to stop. "We don't make jokes about those kinds of things in our family."

Today, we went to the dreaded fireworks display at our town's main park. We were sitting next to a large family group of about a dozen people. We didn't have any conversation with them, but I overheard some conversation that pegged them as of Polish ancestry. We were on their left. On their right sat a family of recent immigrants from India. Our town has a very large number of Indian families, as we're close to a huge, and unbelievably beautiful Hindu temple.

The patriarch of the family next to us, a man apparently in his late forties, kept making comments about the family to his right. "Where is their prayer mat?" The rest of the family giggled and half-heartedly shushed him. "I'm expecting any one of these guys to stand up and start shooting. Why would they even come here? It's not their country."

This was during the fireworks. I had one of the twins on my lap. I feel ashamed that I didn't say something to the guy.

When push came to shove, I was able to tell a 10-year-old kid what my feelings were, but I failed to do the same to an adult.

One kind of funny thing, the village was pumping out music to go along with the fireworks. Some Toby Keith crap that I couldn't name. Neil Diamond. And Neil Young.

Neil Young.

There's colors on the street
Red, white and blue
People shufflin' their feet
People sleepin' in their shoes
But there's a warnin' sign
on the road ahead
There's a lot of people sayin'
we'd be better off dead
Don't feel like Satan,
but I am to them
So I try to forget it,
any way I can.

Keep on rockin' in the free world,

I see a woman in the night
With a baby in her hand
Under an old street light
Near a garbage can
Now she puts the kid away,
and she's gone to get a hit
She hates her life,
and what she's done to it
There's one more kid
that will never go to school
Never get to fall in love,
never get to be cool.

Keep on rockin' in the free world,

We got a thousand points of light
For the homeless man
We got a kinder, gentler,
Machine gun hand
We got department stores
and toilet paper
Got styrofoam boxes
for the ozone layer
Got a man of the people,
says keep hope alive
Got fuel to burn,
got roads to drive.

Keep on rockin' in the free world,

Flipper's got a thing about frogs. We have a pet frog. And we've had various newts and tadpoles as pets.

We did get Chili his fire-bellied newt. It died in 24 hours. We got another one. It lasted a week. At which point, Chili conceded that we're probably not very skilled at caring for newts.

Today, we visited Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry to see their new frog exhibit, featuring over 150 live specimens. Frogs the size of a pumpkin. Others the size of a pencil eraser. Pretty cool. And the Sysmistress and I got to read up on amplexus, which sounds like a wonderful way to spend a weekend.

Wandering around the museum, we found another exhibit that we hadn't heard about, "Robots Like Us". From the outside, it looked like it would be something dry, showing automated manufacturing, Roombas, and stuff like that. Nope. It was all robot toys from the 50's and 60's. It was like every model from every Eric Joyner painting. I took pictures of most of them.

Finally, we drove out to the White Fence Farm for the petting zoo, corn fritters and fried chicken. In that order.

When I was five years old, my local fireworks display ended poorly. The crowd was too close, and a few items fell over and shot in to the crowd. Several people were badly burned, and the ambulances scared the shit out of me. When I was in grade school, I found fireworks to be a way of saying "kid, your summer is going to be over before you know it." For some reason, I don't really associate New Year's Day with the passage of time, but I still feel that way about the 4th of July.

Today's the fourth of July
Another June has gone by
And when they light up our town I just think
What a waste of gunpowder and sky

Aimee Mann
"4th of July" (2004, live at St. Ann's Warehouse)

I've been hitting the gym for about two months. I've been getting up at 5:30 a.m., Monday through Friday, and working out before I go to work. The results have been underwhelming. But I haven't really done much to change what I've been eating, and I'm old, so I shouldn't be expecting a lot. I've been pretty disciplined, weight lifting, doing cardio, logging my routine. I'm going to keep it up, but I'm getting discouraged.

Today, I actually injured myself playing Whiffle Ball. Stubbed my toe, wearing sandals, trying to stop short on a base. And wrenched my back diving in another time. I wasn't the only one. There was one other guy who actually had to be helped off the field.

The picture above is a Spankometer (proper pronunciation: spank-am-meh-tur, not spank-oh-meet-er). One way to track very specific exercise calories.