Art lovers rejoice! "The Scream" recovered

Yay! Police have recovered "The Scream" and "Madonna," both masterpieces by Edvard Munch that were stolen two years ago from an Oslo museum.

Aside from being treasures that belong to all people, I believe that stolen art should be restored to its original home, especially if that home is in an awesome exotic location like Oslo that I'd like to go visit someday. Because sometimes it IS all about me.

What the hell happened to John Mayer?

He's gotten more bloated than Elvis' corpse. I just don't understand how you can be that rich and that single and that pasty. John, if you're out there, listen: I still love your music, even though I sometimes confuse you with Jack Johnson. I will still buy your albums. However, maybe you should start drinking some water and cutting down on the beef intake. You look like most of the Chicago branch of my family from back in the 50s. Also, please go outside from time to time. It does not help that you're being photographed here with an Oompa Loompa. Wait, that's Jessica Simpson. Maybe an Oompa Loompa would be better -- at least they can sing.

Submitted for your approval, I've got old, hot John Mayer on the left together with new, bloated John Mayer on the right. I'm sure there are pictures out there that show the difference more starkly, but you'll have to trust me on this one.

Funundrum: Offending Internationally Since 2005

I can't believe it. Someone just left a comment, in Spanish, on my "we're going to Peru" post that is incredibly patronizing coming from someone I've never met. I'm so offended that I'll post a response to this individual as soon as I have time to properly conjugate my rage.

So, here it is:

xabepa said...
2 cosas.El bidet sirve para lavarse las partes impudicas. Esto quiza sea nuevo para ustedes, pero lo raro seria para nosotros ir al baño y no tener como lavarnos adecuadamente. Lo que se dice una cuestion de higiene.
Con respecto a los desayunos, creo que la palabra correcta no era "desayuno apropiado" sino "desayuno igual a".No comemos huevos ni salchicas por la mañana. Comemos mas liviano....porque trabajamos luego de desayunar.
Lamento que en lugar de contar las cosas buenas o interesantes que hayas visto en tus
viajes solo escribas cosas "chistosas?".En fin.......Saludos desde Argentina

Xabepapd: sorry I don´t speak English...por eso no viajo para ahi...Me
estas jodiendo??? juaaa

Roughly translated, she (I think) is saying:

Two things. The bidet serves to wash your nasty bits. I know this concept is new to you, but it's rare for us to use the bathroom and not properly wash. It's a question of hygiene.

With respect to breakfast, I believe that the correct word isn't "proper breakfast" so much as "similar breakfast." We don't eat eggs and sausages for breakfast. We eat lightly because we (work instead of?) eating breakfast.

It's a pity that instead of talking about the interesting or good things you saw on your trip, you only joke about the funny stuff. Regards from Argentina.

.....Sorry I don't speak English, that's why I don't travel there [to America].

For someone who doesn't speak English, she certainly had some opinions about the tone of my post and my impressions of her country. I'm enfuego, people. Enfuego. If any of you out there have some choice Spanish phrases to add to my big heaping pile of retort, I welcome you to post them.

Winter comes quick in these parts.

When I woke up yesterday morning, it was suddenly autumn. Last week, the temperatures hovered stubbornly in the 90s, as they had for several weeks prior. Yesterday, I got up, went outside, and was greeted with not only cooler air by about 35 degrees, but also that indefinable crisp tang in the air that heralds the oncoming of fall. Growing up in California, we were lucky to get that for about 10 minutes every morning in late September, just as the sun was warming up dry leaves on the ground, but before getting around to heating up anything else.

Apparently this is what it's like to live somewhere with seasons.

Furthermore, I swear I am not making this up -- I heard a Canadian goose fly by yesterday. I might have seen him, but I'm not sure. The point is that it's really bizarre to have a whole season swoop in all at once. I reckon we'll get a couple weeks of heat further along in September, but that's it.

The weird weather change reminded me of that comic book Bone (remember, you were going to check it out when you had a chance). When Fone Bone first comes to the valley, he is warned that he had better find somewhere to stay, as "winter comes quick in these parts." Just a few scenes later, winter arrives:

T-shirt of the month

It says "I am not a terrorist" in Arabic. I think it's brilliant. Perfect for your next jaunt to the airport, this t-shirt will become an excellent conversation starter while:

• In line for security, disposing of your shoes, belt, pocket contents, and suspicious looking iced lattes

• Expelling any extraneous body fluids into a government approved receptacle

• Trying to explain your clever antiestablishment stance in the small, windowless room at Miami International Airport and Permanent Construction Zone* while the unsmiling latina TSA agent chirps, "Okay, papi, time to disrobe."

Read more about the thoughts behind this shirt. Like they say, "Say it in Arabic. Because free speech is for everyone."

*As always, big ups to Dave Barry for that one.

Funundrum Recommends

Anyone familiar with McSweeney's will realize that I've completely ripped off this idea from them, but I don't think anyone will much care. In the first installment of the Funundrum Recommends feature, I'd like to bring to your attention a fascinating site called Farecast. It's a dream for airfare geeks like me.

The idea of Farecast is that you put in your desired itinerary, and their magical algorithms do a little dance, look at the history of ticket prices in the last 90 days, and tell you whether to buy your ticket now or to wait, depending on whether there is a lower price expected in the near future.

It is so cool. There are lots of charts and the ability to tweak your options, right there on the results page. That's huge for the aforementioned airfare geeks (me) who like to fiddle around with departing airports and days to find a better price.

For now, Farecast is still in beta and only does US cities, but I'm really looking forward to it being something big. If not, it's still a really fun toy that lets me feel smarter about my airfare decisions.

Conifair 2006

So now that we're greyhound owners, we're supposed to get involved with the adoption community. It's a sacrifice we have to make if we want to look like good people.

Nah, seriously, it's just fun to go out to events and let Maggie sniff other greyhounds' butts.

Chris was busy this weekend going to Business School Orientation and Super Fun Summer Camp, so I took Maggie out to this little fair in a mountain town called Conifer. They call it Conifair. Sorry.

On Saturday, it rained and rained and rained. But today was beautiful, and lots of people came by and petted our dogs. Everyone wants to know the same three things:

1. Do they run around all the time? (No. They sleep. All the time.)
2. Are they supposed to be that skinny? (Yes.)
3. Are they good with kids/other dogs/cats/goats/horses? (Depends, depends, depends, don't know, don't know)

So we had a great time, and now Maggie's down for the count. She'll sleep for the rest of the day, even more than usual. Here's some pictures.





There's my Maggie (in the blue collar) being super friendly.




Here's where it got weird. I'm not sure what these animals were supposed to be, but judging by the stickers on their chests, they were stumping for a political candidate. The dogs went nuts over these guys. They just couldn't get enough of these bizarre giant dogs.

Comfort in a tragedy.

In the recent news of a deadly airplane crash in Kentucky that killed 49 out of 50 people aboard, there's at least one small comfort. Among those perished were Mr. Jon Hooker and his new bride, Scarlett Parsley. They had just been married the day before and were leaving for their honeymoon. Yeah, I know, super sad.

But listen, people. This is God's way of saying that he doesn't want one of His children to go the rest of her life named Scarlett Hooker.

And that's that.

Oh my god, I'm a person who dresses my dog.

I can't help it! Maggie's got no hair on half her body and no fat anywhere. She's fine now, but when it gets colder and the inside of the house is only allowed to be 68 degrees, she's going to freeze to death if I don't put something on her.

Fortunately there are lots of nice people out there who make custom-order greyhound jammies and coats and things. Maggie got her jammies today -- they're such nice quality that I'll probably be ordering her winter coat from the same place.

The Killers are coming to Denver!

This kind...
























Not this kind.











He's in Boulder.

So yeah, the Killers are playing the Fillmore. Remember, the same place we saw Muse? Roller rink from the 20's? Small. General admission. I'm super stoked, because I love the Killers, as I pointed out more than a year ago.

What I do not love, however, is Ticketmaster. I hate them with the white hot heat of the sun. I hate them because they are the evil overlords to whom I must bow down if I want to be in the same room as my beloved Killers. Here's the problem, which any red-blooded American already knows about if he or she has ever purchased event tickets from Ticketmaster. The convenience charge.

Now, back in nineteen diggity-six when I first started buying tickets from Ticketmaster, I remember the convenience fee being a few bucks per ticket. We all grumbled, but they have to make a profit somehow, right? This was also about the time that Pearl Jam decided to fight the Man by not going through Ticketmaster. We all know how that turned out. It seemed a bit silly at the time, nothing more than an empty gesture designed to be as much a publicity move as a statement. It was, after all, post-grunge. Nobody gave a crap about Pearl Jam anyway. Can anyone name a decent single after "Daughter"? That's what I thought.

Anyway, back in nineteen diggity-six it didn't seem like much of a problem. But today, when I fought my way through the haze of battle, past the trenches of "Password not recognized" and beyond the mustard gas-soaked no-man's-land of "complete this page within one minute to keep your tickets," I finally arrived at the promised land of "Tickets Confirmed." I had confounded Jerry at every turn, only to be met with:

The Killers
Full Price Ticket: US$30.25 x2
Convenience Charge: US$8.55 x2
Delivery by Mail: No Charge (<-- would have been $2.50 per if I printed them out, but that's a rant for another day)
Order Processing Fee: US$4.60

Total Charges: US$82.50

Ladies and gentlemen, that is a total of $22.00 in fees. US currency, lest you forget. That's only $8.00 less than the cost of a whole 'nother ticket. I am apoplectic, people. Apoplectic.

Diagram of the Day

I'm trying really hard to knock out a super-long law site right now, so until I've got time to come up with something clever for all you out there in the peanut gallery, here's the best diagram I've come across today during my research about traumatic brain injury:

Best fact on the site where this diagram came from: "Plopping down into an easy chair can generate up to 10 g's."

I can only hope for something this inspirational when I write the page on animal attacks and dog bites.

Best before-and-after picture ever.

I'm sorry to say that the pictures are advertising a plastic surgeon rather than a barber. In either case, this fellow should get himself a shirt that says "I was the walrus."

Sunset update

This sunset was from a couple of days ago. We have a gorgeous sunset just about every day, but this one was especially nice. I had just driven to the store to pick up some pineapple for our stir fry extravaganza, and once I saw the sky, I drove just a little faster to get the camera. These two pictures were taken about five minutes apart. Colorado is neat.

I hate pit bulls.

If I hear one more person say that it's unfair to judge an entire breed based on the behavior of a few bad seeds, I'll scream. They're just aggressive, mean, and unpredictable.

Case in point: we took Maggie to a big 5 acre dog park yesterday, where she ran and ran and ran and ran and was beautiful. Not long after we arrived, a couple and their pit bull showed up. For a while, everyone behaved very well -- it's easy to get along with so much space to move around in. Then, after Maggie got tired, the pit sauntered back up to her and began jumping on her neck, which quickly became jumping and trying to bite.

The pit's owner (a beer-gut Harley type, though I'll not judge on appearance) was trying moderately hard to separate them, as we were, though it was difficult because they were moving away from us. Also, do you know how scary it is to put your hands between an attacking pit bull and another dog?

After we separated them, the man's wife asked him to leash the dog. He didn't. Rather, after hanging on to the dog's collar for a minute, he let it go. Damn thing went right back to molesting my dog. At this point she's pleading with him to leash the dog, which he reluctantly did before they walked away. I bet he beats her.

Maggie's fine, she got more of a fatal slobbering from the pit. As for its owner, I was too mad to say anything. He was the one holding the deadly weapon, after all. I think we were more scared than Maggie, as greyhounds tend to play pretty rough. They usually stop short of ripping each other's throats out, though, so there's that.

Stupid pit bulls.

Snakes. On a plane.

I am speechless with joy at this film.

Snakes on a Plane was better than I ever could have imagined. It combined the audience participation of an old-time melodrama with the unquestionable badassness that is Sam Jackson. Characters were clearly defined. There was a prissy Hollywood starlet. There were lustful honeymooners. There was a hip-hop star and his bodyguards. There was a stuffy Englishman. There was the older flight attendant who was three weeks away from retirement.

I'll let you use your extensive knowledge of movie cliches to figure out which of these folks made it, and which of them ended up in a grisly puddle of pus and blood on the floor of a 747. The body count is staggeringly impressive. Shakespeare would be proud.

Also, Samuel L. Jackson is in it. What does the "L" stand for? "Lotsa freaking awesome," that's what.

So do yourselves and your loved ones a favor. Today (technically) is Sunday. You have the whole day to do your laundry, run your errands, and still devote an hour and a half to the best movie you will see all year. I don't care that movie tickets are $10 apiece. I would have paid twice that to witness the perfect, pure beauty that was Snakes on a Plane.

To recap: There are snakes. They are on a plane. This is all you need to know.

To Michelle and anyone else wondering whether I did really, in fact, enjoy the film: Yes.

To my dad, specifically, who called me a week after this original post to ask me if I did, in fact, actually enjoy the movie and was I being serious: YES.

Haunted or retarded?

I've always been a little strange -- someday I hope to combine that quality with excessive wealth and parlay the whole thing into the guise of "eccentric old lady." I either made a start on that journey today, or else my house is haunted. Remember, my dog also whines at nothing, so this further strengthens the haunted house vs. retarded dog and owner dichotomy.

After I washed my hands this afternoon, I sat back down to the computer, ostensibly to work. About 10 minutes later, I tuned in to the sound of water running. I can't tell you if it had been going that entire time, or if it had just started. I thought maybe the toilet was running and went to check it out. Rather than the toilet, I found the faucet on. Just... on.

Here's where I'm going with this. I've never walked away from a running tap in my life. Maybe today was the first day, and I'm just getting crazy and forgetful. Or my house is haunted by someone who wants to run up both my water and my gas bill at the same time (it was the hot water, after all.) If there's some sort of evil spirit in my house, why can't it at least do cool stuff that I can show off to my neighbors, like flinging books around or writing nasty messages on the mirror? Instead, all I get is a water waster. Nice.

Birds Eye Update

Remember the Birds Eye Not Enough Broccoli fiasco? I still haven't received any coupons from lil' miss Tote Dump.

Perhaps she doesn't realize the emerging impact that blogs have on consumer choice. I mean, I have thousands dozens several readers who would join me at a moment's notice if I called for a boycott of delicious Birds Eye food products. I shall not rest until I've been hushed with a handful of worthless coupons! Fight with me, brothers and sisters!*

*Unless you really enjoy the flavor, value, and selection available from Birds Eye. In that case, knock yourself out.

Summertime in the FLL

Man, for $89 each way, Chris and I packed in a lot of good times in Fort Lauderdale this past weekend. The Axis of Evil, once reunited, trundled round to lots of our old haunts and some new places as well -- Fat Tuesday's, the Floridian, Giorgio's, Jack's, Jaxson's Ice Cream Parlor, Woody's... there was even an excellent gourmet steak dinner provided by Señor Rob. We didn't make it to Hamburger Mary's, Cheeburger Cheeburger, or the Rascal House deli because we ran out of time.

The only pictures we really took were of the afternoon spent sweating and drinking out by the river. As it should be. The rest of the time, one can't mess around with a camera. One had better stay the hell on top of the conversation, or else you'll miss something that could become an AofE joke for years to come. For example:

• Crust of the earth
• Molas
• Meow more than ever
• Gavian
• Look, darling! Savages!
• I hope you crash and die
• Knit me a golly

So there you have it. I can't relate most of the great conversations that evolved over the weekend, but that's mostly because I can't legally reveal how evil we truly are. You would likely be sickened, and I don't want to do that to you. Just be glad that I've found my own kind.

I can't think of any more relevant stories just now, but that's because I'm still exhausted from all that humidity and digestion. More later, maybe.

Bring me another beer, bitches!

I think I was wrangling a chip into my mouth, or maybe I just look like that normally.

Mmmm... vodka tonic.

Here's the latest addition, Tundra the westie. I hate small yapper type dogs, but she's super cute and I don't hate her at all.

Rob. El mysterioso.

Update: DING!

Attention Nathan.

Shut the hell up.

You know full well that I was at your place all weekend, and last night was pretty much taken up with washing off all the bottles of soap and lotion that exploded because I had to check them as luggage.

I will update Funundrum when I'm damn good and ready, and you'll like it.

Thank you for your interest in Funundrum -- we appreciate your patronage.

Regards,
The Management

This rant dedicated to New York City's Undercover Kitty. RIP, and next time, use your uncanny skillz to stay the hell out of the street.

CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!

How come terror attack plans always have to be thwarted right before I need to fly somewhere? Next time I'll send my travel itinerary to Al Qaeda so they can schedule their jihad for like the week after I fly.

Because of a terror attack plan that has been conveniently thwarted by the TSA, we are now at Code Orange. I shall illustrate:



Now I've flown during Code Orange plenty in these troubled times, and it pretty much means that you just have to brace yourself for exceptionally stupid demands from the screeners ("Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to turn on your computer, take the batteries out of your camera, and do up a quick potholder so I can ascertain that those knitting needles are in fact authentic.")

Unfortunately, this time it's a little different. According to TSA Secretary Michael "Skeletor" Chertoff, they aren't allowing any liquids onboard flights. None. No bottles of water, no lotion, no hair gel, no contact lens solution. I'm fine with this, as they've got drugstores where we're going, but I weep for my soul as I anticipate the mess this is going to be in the screening line. Acres of people bitching that they didn't see the news, most of them women of a creepily indeterminate age trying to tell the bored x-ray operator exactly how much that face lotion cost per ounce. It's not going to be pretty.

Chertoff closed his statement by saying, "Travelers should go about their plans confidently, while maintaining vigilance in their surroundings and exercising patience with screening and security officials."

Nathan would like to know why we can't hire Mad-Eye Moody to be the TSA Secretary. CONSTANT VIGILANCE sounds so much more threatening coming from him.

Aaaaaawwwww! Yep, yep, yep, yep....

So I came across this list of someone's 25 favorite bits from Sesame Street [that right there is a link and if anyone can tell me how to make it a different color than dark gray and KEEP IT THAT WAY I'd like to hear it], and didn't have to read far before I found one of my top 5: the "yep yep yep" aliens. Please take a couple of minutes out of your day to remember when Sesame Street was more like the Muppet Show, and less about selling Elmo toys.

Be vewy, vewy quiet.

Last week, I had the rare chance to observe and interact with the rarely seen Timothicus travellarus. This shy species seldom advertises his intent to travel to your area, and when discovered, must be handled very gently so as not to frighten him.

Once he found out that I knew he was in Colorado Springs, I calmed him down by gently tossing a few pieces of banana and mango in his direction. He soon trusted me enough to go out to dinner with me and Chris. I'm smoother than Jane Goodall. It didn't hurt that I lived among Timothicus and his kind for several years to acclimate myself to their strange customs.

Here I am with the mythical beast, laughing about a busload of Korean tourists who followed us from the restaurant to the hotel.

¿Me estás jodiendo?

Here it is, what, nearly a year since our trip to Argentina. Ten days of having to drag together Spanish phrases for even the simplest requests. Ten days of not being able to find a proper breakfast beyond croissants and coffee. Ten days of wondering why bidets are given the ability to propel water all the way to the ceiling.

We're doing it again.

This time, however, Peru is the name of the game. We got rocking cheap tickets down there on South America's TACA airline, which I'm hoping doesn't stand for Take Another Competent Airline. We get to stop over in such lovely destinations as San Salvador, El Salvador and San Jose, Costa Rica. I've never been to Central America, and I don't think that airline stopovers count, but oh well. We'll try to do something exotic in our short time there.

Now. Peru. I think that most of my readers are already aware of the fact that we're going, but here's some fun facts that you probably didn't know:

• We'll be in Cuzco, Peru on New Year's Eve -- we might even be at Machu Picchu itself.
• It will be a full moon, and as such we plan on paying the $10 extra to visit Machu Picchu at night.
• We intend on trying one of the most beloved native Andean dishes -- cuy, or roasted guinea pig. Settle down. I reckon it will taste like chicken. More likely, rabbit. They're very closely related.
• Peru's national drink? Yes please! But probably only once. It's called a pisco sour -- pisco (a regional brandy made of Quebranta or Muscat grapes), lemon (green or yellow following the tastes), egg whites, and liquid cane sugar. It's the egg whites that get me here. Really? Can I have that to wash down my cuy?
• Yes, I will be buying one of those stripy alpaca wool hats with the ear flaps. Duh.

So there you have it. In an effort to help everyone understand how undeniably cool this will be, I've put together a picture of what our New Year's Eve will likely look like. But probably not.

Tropical update.

This has been your tropical update.

Tropical update update: It appears as though Tropical Storm Chris has "fallen apart." And we had such high hopes for him.