Checka-Checka-Check It Out

I wonder how many title things I can actually pull out of repetitive words that begin with a "ch" sound. I mean, I can't even necessarily think of any more at the moment, but they have to be out there, don't they. You would think that they do, but I guess you never know until you try.

I am currently watching Miami take on the Pirates of East Carolina University. The Canes came out and did what they are supposed to do, the quick defense leaving the Pirates with a three and out. The offense ran two plays on the ground, getting about 5 a piece for a first down. Then Brock Berlin just opened it up with what ends up being a 50 yard TD strike. Its the way you like to see Miami play, true Gino Toretta-style. Speaking of football, I have been told by the Triple Siznan-Jizzle-Jay that Madden 2004 with this Playmaker feature (C) is apparently so fucking cool that it cannot be believed. You get to like control your blockers and put your receivers into spontaneous hot routes. I can't wait to see it. Unfortunately, it may be second in line, since I don't even have the Buffy game yet. Maybe at this point I can just wait it out and get one or both of them used. I even got a coupon in the mail the other day for 5 bucks off a used game at the old Hollywood Video, so we shall see.

I am going to try a little excercise which we in the writing business call "freewriting"-the basic concept of freewriting is of course to write freely, without any self censorship. Regardless, here we go:

I was watching this leopard chase a vaginal-beef stew out the terrycloth windowpane when two kangaroos called me a hobo. What, I asked them, why doth thou accuse me of this nonsensical happening. If anyone would know, it would be you, after all, back in our youth we partied together daily.

I remember fondly going up to the park, climbing on the monkey bars, and sitting down to watch the puppet show. Before your aunt could steal a minivan the skunks would climb from the secret compartments which covered the wagon and spray Lysol on the whole crowd. More!! They would scream, MORE!!! The little children delighted in the combination of stinging pain and lemony freshness. Only 15 years later would they truly learn that Orange flavored Pledge delivered all the freshness at half the chloro-flouro-carbons.

Aristophanes!! You have got to be kidding me. No one ever ate a peanut butter cookie under the stormy sky on a thursday morning. If you wanted to, you might as well just ride the Orient Express up to Sumatra before Marky Mark calls you a bunny rabbit.

**End Scene**

I have now adequately determined that freewriting in a blog is not funny. My aplogies to any unfortunate readers. On the bright side, I have learned a little something about me. Those skunks, for instance, aren't just puppets. They are the puppets I remember fondly from my youth, the chick was named Henrietta, I think, but that may just be because my grandparents' pool cleaning-machine was named Henrietta. I have always thought that was weird and it may just be the two people I happen to know who have pools, but there does seem to be a trend in the naming of pool cleaning devices.

I am not talking about the fucking vent things obviously, why would you name one of those, that doesn't make any fucking sense. I am talking about the things that look a little like those moving lawn sprinklers that are attached to a hose and they go around on the bottom of the pool and grab leaves and dirt and whatever and pump it out. The Davis' and my mom's parents were the only people I knew with pools and Henrietta and Dolly were thus my models for pool cleaning name accuracy.

Regardless, I also thought it was weird that the puppets were skunks. I don't believe I had actually encountered a real skunk at the point in my life that I was going up to the puppet shows in the park, but I knew enough about them that I can imagine they would bot be worthy of the hugs of little children were they to simply wonder out of the long grasses behind the playground. Now that I think about it, I don't know that I have ever seen a live skunk outside of a zoo in my life. I am happy to say that I have never encountered one in any threateningly close proximity, but I don't even think I saw one running accross the road or whatever. I think it would be disappointing to see one of them spray though. You would probably imagine that their spray would be green and a cloudy mist, like it is for Peppy Le Peu or any other random cartoon skunk, but if you sit and really think about it, the chances are pretty low that it is green.

On the bright side, I have seen a live fox in person and it exceeded all my expectations. It was way way back in the day, must have been my junior year at RHS. James Hart and I had recently discovered the West St. Paul B-Dubs. At this point, of course, it was not known as B-Dubs, but rather BW3 or Buffalo Wild Wings or whatever. Regardless, we started driving out there on Tuesdays for the 20 cent wing days. The NTN trivia grew on us and pretty soon we were there en masse all the time. Regardless, one night James and I were in his beat up old car and as we turned to park in the B-Dubs lot there appears, much to our surprise, in our headlights, a cute little red fox (I nominate that sentence for best use of a comma splice in a major motion picture, by the way). I am not sure if the fox noticed us, though it did seem to sort of freeze in the headlights. After a couple seconds though, it just went on its way. Thankfully, its way was about a foot to its left, where the bush it was standing near was located. I don't know that there was any food actually in the bush, but the fox determined that the potential for food in the bush warranted a couple solid minutes of exploration. As a result we got to watch it before another car scared it into the woods. The point is that the fox was really really cool. Foxes are hella cute, they are like dog-cats. They have the best combinations of cuteness and studliness of both cats and dogs, plus, the awesome auburn shade. All in all, I am pro-fox.

Peace,

MB-K