It's pumpkin time!

Yaaaay! So I'm sitting at home alone tonight because Chris is in California and my friends are lame. (Not really, they're busy, but go with the lame thing, it makes for better pity.) For the second Halloween in a row, I'm sitting at home (alone) doing nothing. I know Halloween isn't until Tuesday, but all the good parties are happening tonight. I presume.

Halloween is my favorite holiday, ever, so it makes me a little sad that I'm not really going to have the time or resources to do what I want with it, but maybe next year.

What I did do is carve the most awesomest pumpkin ever in the history of pumpkins. I got the idea of a cannibal pumpkin from Extreme Pumpkins, but the design's all mine.

Blizzard! Yay!

We had the first blizzard of the season blow through here over the course of last night and today. Since Chris had to get out to the airport and onto a plane, this caused some problems but other than that it was beautiful. I just got back inside from shoveling the driveway -- let me tell you, since our snow melts so quickly here, the need for shoveling is rare and therefore quite novel.

Confidential to my next-door neighbor: You are an idiot. Surely you knew that it was snowing for most of the night and almost all of today. As you drove home from work, did you think that your house and driveway were spared the 8-12 inches that every other surface in Highlands Ranch acquired? Did you think that your husband came home early and painted your driveway a suspiciously white fluffy color? There must be some rational reason as to why you tried (and failed) to drive your Mini Cooper up your driveway. You got about halfway up, got stuck, then tried again. I giggled as your car's little tires spun around in an extraordinarily futile fashion. After a good minute or two of reversing and trying different angles, you finally gave up and joined me, the guy across the street, and several other people down the block who had the good sense to shovel while the shoveling was good.

Next time, remember: If there's snow, you must go... into your garage and pick up your snow shovel, you lazy soccer mom. (I'm no Johnnie Cochran, sorry. I get a little worked up sometimes.)

We lost this tree to the weight of the snow, as you can plainly see. It's still got the sad little bungee cords on it that we used to try to keep it upright during the summer's windy thunderstorms.

The snow lasted until about one in the afternoon, and the clouds started to break around 4:30. For about 15 minutes, the entire world was blue and orange and pink. I didn't have the time (deadline, remember?) to go and get all the pictures I wanted to, so these will have to do. This is the roof of our neighbor's house as I see it from my desk...

And this is what it looked like from our deck. The sun just managed to make it out from under the clouds before going behind the Rockies for the night -- I'm glad I got up off my duff to take the picture.

Here's what's wrong with America

I mean, it's certainly not the only thing wrong with America. But this doesn't help. According to this article, US customs agents are confiscating Vegemite from incoming Aussies and Kiwis. Confiscating it. Nobody is really sure why this is happening -- apparently, Vegemite is illegal to import to the US in bulk because it has vitamin B in it. I am not making this up. But up until now, Aussies could pack it in their luggage with no problems, which is a good deal because have you ever seen an Aussie have to go without Vegemite? It's not pretty. One time I deftly avoided this situation by walking two miles to the only shop in Dublin known to carry the stuff.

My point is, obviously, that our Customs folks need to find something better to do. Americans might do well to have a little more Vegemite in their lives. It's a hell of a hangover cure. (all that vitamin B, remember?) Just remember -- if you're ever confronted with a jar of Vegemite and a piece of toast, remember to use more butter. No, more than that. Yep, there you go. That should make it barely palatable.

Bad Copy of the Day Award

I'm in the midst of writing my second-to-last-website-ever-EVER-do-you-hear-me, and I had to look up the word "enucleation" so I could write about it. Apparently it's the surgical removal of the eyeball. Anyway, the first site I clicked on in hopes of getting some details turned out to be enucleation for pets. That's where I found this little gem:

"Most people have a strong preference for their pets to have two eyes and would like to keep both their pet’s eyes if possible. "

Most people? I'd like to meet the rest of the people surveyed. Then again, maybe I don't.

That said, I always thought it would be cool to adopt a dog with three legs, one eye, or some other charmingly bizarre deformity, just for the naming possibilities. I've already got a list, ready to go: Tripod, Gimpy, Skippy, Hopalong, Winky, Squinty, Cap'n (only good with an eyepatch), and many, many more.

Stinky update

For those of you wondering about how Stinky the squirrel is doing, I'm pleased to report that he's doing just fine and is making some serious preparations for the onset of winter. He's gotten super fat. I don't know if squirrels hibernate or what, but either way, he's all set to go.

This has been your Stinky Update.

Attention.

My house, as well as the immediate Highlands Ranch area, is being snowed upon. Welcome, first snow of the season. You shall make it easier for us to sit inside and work on tasks that would be otherwise avoided in nicer weather -- business school homework, Christmas stockings, and so forth.

New job

As you may or may not already be aware, I've accepted a new job that will throw me headfirst back into an office environment -- and I can't wait. Working from home was nice on days that I had to run errands or sleep off a cold, but not so hot on days that I really just wanted to talk to someone or needed a little more structure to be productive.

I've had it with giving up a whole day's pay just to enjoy a national holiday and several days' pay to take a long weekend. Also, my old company had crappy morale and no one respected my contributions. But that's not really why I'm plunging back into the workforce.

I'm doing it for each of you. Imagine how much better the blog will be with a whole new cast of characters. Unfortunately, this means that my new coworkers and possible friends can never be told about Funundrum, but I think the creative benefits reaped from not doing so will make up for the sacrifice.

Killers goodness.

We saw the Killers last night at the Fillmore. Since the Fillmore is all general admission with no seats, we stood in line for four hours to ensure front row seats. After radio station winners and line bloat increased the number of people in front of us from 40 to about 200, we still managed to be only like two people back.

The show was amazing. Singer Brandon Flowers took a page from Bono's Mr. Macphisto character and just glammed and hammed his way through the entire set -- in a good way. He's a total showman who doesn't take himself seriously for a moment. During the first few songs of the show, he seemed flabbergasted that the crowd knew all the words to the songs from the new album that's been out for a little less than two weeks.

Since they are such a young band (they've only been around since 2004) they still don't feel comfortable opening up and playing their songs differently from the album version, but I'm sure that will change in the next few years. For now, though, they put on a hell of a show.

Here are some of the best photos from the CrapCam, because I am very excited about having a camera phone:





It's hard to tell, but Brandon was actually standing on top of his piano at this point.

U.S. Toy Constructive Playthings

If you regularly drove past a store called U.S. TOY CONSTRUCTIVE PLAYTHINGS, you'd want to go inside too, right? I've been dying to see the inside of this place since we moved here. In my mind I was expecting boxes full of finger puppets and wholesome building blocks, all sold by efficient looking men named Dieter or Jorg.

It turns out that U.S. Toy Constructive Playthings is half teacher supply, 1/3 party supply, and 17% real toys like Legos and such. Since I love cheap toys and bizarre educational supplies, we ended up spending about an hour in there. I was like a kid in a toy and constructive playthings store.

CrapCam was there to document our fun afternoon:

Lest you think I was kidding about the name

Best. Funny hat picture. Ever.



THEY EVEN HAD RELIGIOUS MUPPETS. I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS PLACE.

Yes! Stop it! I'm AWARE!

Look. I'm aware that breast cancer exists. I'm aware, that like most other types of cancer, there is currently no cure. I'm aware that it's caused by overexposure to pink ribbons and can be treated by repeated exposure to 5 and 10K runs. Oh, it can't? Clearly I am not aware enough.

The breast cancer people have finally got enough PR people to ensure that they get the hell marketed out of Breast Cancer Awareness month. I can't think of a disease that gets more play than breast cancer. AIDS, maybe. I mean, Bono and Oprah are on the AIDS awareness train, so that's pretty strong.

But breast cancer wins when it comes to sheer omnipresent marketing. There are gigantic pink ribbons on many of the office buildings in our area, there are posters, bus shelters, TV commercials... and then there's the food packaging. I should be able to eat yogurt without having to worry about breast cancer. Breakfast cereal? There it is. Let me tell you, it's gone a touch overboard:

Andy Warhol, wherever he is, is cackling like a madman over this. Here's where I'm going with this -- what is the point?

How does putting a pink ribbon on a can of soup help anyone, besides making Campbell's look caring and making the consumer feel warm and fuzzy for buying something that carries a vague allusion to fighting for a cancer cure? Here's a suggestion: take that money that it took you to print up special labels and box tops, or to buy a 100 pound pink ribbon for the top of your office building, and actually give it to organizations who DO fight cancer in one way or another. Save your empty gestures, because not only do I not care to start with, but now you're pissing me off by trying to make me believe that you care.

Actually, this goes for all you ribbon people. Red AIDS ribbons, funky puzzle piece autism ribbons, and especially, Lord, ESPECIALLY the yellow ribbon troop supporters. How exactly is that yellow ribbon-shaped magnet supporting anyone but the manufacturers of said magnet?
"I support the troops." What does that mean, exactly? Do you send them new Kevlar vests and packages of Oreos? No? Then how are you supporting them? Oh, you do send them Oreos? Fantastic! You're a good person. Do you really need a magnet on the back of your SUV to tell people that?

Tell you what. I am grateful that there are men and women out there willing to go do the evil bidding of our crazy president, because I wouldn't want to have to. I'm grateful that they're out there fighting the good fight. I'm not sure if that's the same thing as supporting, unless you count the fact that I pay my taxes on time. I'm also going to be voting, early and often, in the hopes that I can support the troops further by helping them to come home and be with their families for their next Christmas, Hanukkah, or Eid al-Fitr. But I don't need a ribbon. If it makes you feel better, fantastic, but I don't need one. This means you, neighbor who comes over and asks us if we want a ribbon on our door.*

Sorry to get all negative on you, Readers. I'm just a little ribboned out. What color ribbon is "victim of charity awareness"? I'll take two.

*This didn't happen to us here in CO, but did happen at my parents' house in Fullerton.

Funundrum recommends

Today I'd like to give a hearty recommendation to something called, simply, Pumpkin Beer. It's made by the good folks at O'Fallon Brewery in O'Fallon, MO. Their tagline is "We love beer." This makes me happy.

We were in our friendly neighborhood liquor store on Friday night, picking up some beer, when a fellow walked past us with a sixer of Pumpkin Beer under his arm. I immediately got the urge to run up to this guy before he left the store to ask him how the Pumpkin Beer was. "I don't know, man. I just liked the package." Once we heard that, our choice was clear. For your benefit, here's what he's talking about:

I just love that this bright orange jack-o-lantern on a plain black background succeeds where larger breweries' fancy marketed and focus-grouped packaging utterly fails. Within the span of three minutes, they sold two sixers based on that damn pumpkin alone.

And the BEER! This is where Funundrum is really aiming today's recommendation. It's like pumpkin pie in a bottle, but not too sweet at all. It tastes of a little bit pumpkin, with a healthy dose of cinnamon and other spices. It's the perfect dessert beer for all of your autumn shindigs. Unfortunately, I don't think any of my readers can access it, as it's only distributed in Missouri, Colorado, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin. But if ever you happen to be visiting one of these fly-over states, please do keep a look out for it.

P.S. -- We did, in fact, call 636-474-BEER, which is their equivalent of the Kevin & Bean Afro Line, to tell them how much we enjoyed their tasty seasonal beverage. Imagine being the intern who gets to listen to all those drunken calls on Monday morning.

Puerto Rico -- Because You're Lazy!

I was watching the Colbert Report, furiously crocheting Christmas stockings (attention Mom Arehart -- they will be done in a couple of weeks) and they aired a Daily Show teaser. After the teaser, a screenshot of Happy Swimsuit People came up, and the voiceover man said "This Daily Show News Break was brought you you by Puerto Rico, where no US passport is required."

Since I am subliminally aware of passport and visa requirements for just about any destination on our globe -- it's a bizarre gift -- I am here to tell you that most of the Caribbean is switching over to requiring valid passports from visiting US citizens. For decades now, a birth certificate has been good enough, and these little countries are finally fighting for their right to higher security, which they most certainly deserve.

I assure you that this is causing a world of unrest in the cruise industry, because Margaret Finkelstein has never, never do you hear me, had to get a passport and she doesn't see why she has to start now. Frankly, I don't understand how toting around a grubby piece of paper is better than genteely producing a slick, internationally recognized, high tech identification booklet, but that's the way it is.

I promise this all comes back around to Puerto Rico. Their latest marketing campaign is planted firmly in the belief that people would rather change their travel plans (and limit them to one sad little island) than simply fill out a form and take it to the post office. And the thing is, the marketing people are right. The Bubble People, the same ones who ask why anyone would want to go to Mexico (hi Aunt Janie), the ones who can't imagine what it might be like to take a restaurant recommendation from a non-English-speaking cab driver -- these are the ones who fear passports. You see, passports mock. That shiny gold leaf on the cover, the blank face staring out from the first page, that expanse of un-stamped paper in the back -- all of that hints at the possibility that just maybe there's a whole world out there that other people with passports are experiencing. And since the Bubble People would have to get passports just to go have en-white-ified friendly Jamaicans make them fruity drinks identical to those they could find in any stateside TGI Friday's, they recoil in horror and immediately demand that their dusty old travel agent find them an island that does not require them to face their own explorational shortcomings.

Puerto Rico is apparently the answer, which is fine by me. If we can concentrate the loud ugly Americans on an island that we already own, that means they're not stinking up the countries I'd rather be in. With my passport.

Seen on my Papa John's pizza box

"Your pizza experience managed by Christ"

This is probably what happens when Papa John's Employee #25837 wrote in CHRISTOPHER J BLOOMSFELD on his job application and W-4. He couldn't see into the future, because if he had been able to, surely he would have just put "Chris." Either that, or he's never looked at the side of the box and had Assistant Shift Lead Chad change his name in the system. Or he's seen it and just doesn't care. But since I've never met an apathetic pizza store employee, that can't be right.

I mean, I guess it's possible that Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ* had a hand in managing my pizza experience, but if that's the case why wasn't it hotter when we got it, and why did we have to wait for a kid to drive it to our house? If I was Christ, and I was a pizza manager, I'd impress the snot out of people by making the pizza just appear in their homes. "Pizza by Jesus -- If it's not transubstantiated to your front door in a half hour or less, it's FREE!"

I'm willing to go one further. Jesus Christ is obviously busy and may be looking to franchise out his pizza managing acumen. Perhaps the Jehovah's Witnesses could help him out and, at the same time, increase their face-time with the public. They're going door to door anyway. Is there a reason they couldn't throw a light box on top of their car and deliver a few pies while they're out there?

* Would Jesus have to put the "H." on his W-4? Does Jesus have to pay taxes? I mean, he's probably technically an Israeli citizen -- he would have to work for cash under the table.

Bad Copy of the Day Award

"Utilizing advanced technology such as microkeratomes and computer-assisted lasers is a bit like modern air travel. It is probably the best way to get from here to there, but we are also at the mercy of the technology. Just as an airline captain will not take off unless everything important is functioning within acceptable limits, we will not begin your procedure unless our equipment is all functioning properly. And just as that pilot might occasionally have to divert a flight as a precaution, we might have to stop our surgical procedure at the safest possible point if a malfunction develops."

I... I don't even have anything to say about this exceedingly bizarre extended metaphor for LASIK. Perhaps describing your LASIK surgeon as being at the mercy of his own technology is not the best image to portray. I do, however, eagerly await the motion-picture debut of Snakes on a Microkeratome.

Featured quote from Sam Jackson, Practicing Ophthalmologist: "I've had it with these MF'ing snakes on my MF'ing iris scanning equipment!" In theaters -- Fall 2007.

Funundrum recommends

The new Killers album, Sam's Town. I'm about halfway through, and it's fantastic. More when I'm done listening to it. So far, it's got that great soundtracky rock-opera expansiveness, kind of like Green Day's American Idiot. But way better, because it's the Killers. They do tend to channel a little Bruce Springsteen and U2 at times, and depending who you are, that's either good or bad. Flood was a producer, and it sounds like it. So awesome.

Highlands Ranch Fashion Week Continues

We got Maggie's winter coat in the mail -- it is a fake Burberry print, so it's gay tested, chav approved. It's a thick flannel, lined with sherpa fleece. We're ready for winter in the Rockies!

Other than that, still nothing happening. Is anything going on with you people?

Fall madness

Still nothing happening. I got a new phone over the weekend -- if you didn't get the number, email me and I'll get it to you.

It's got a camera, which is super cool. I took some pictures out in the open space behind our house. It's really weird -- the first few pictures I took the other day were really crisp and clear, and these are more in an Impressionist vein. I'm still toying with it, but I expect that it will give me the opportunity to capture a lot more visual confirmation of anything that may happen to me... if anything ever does. Not a whole lot going on, like I said.









This one was taken with a regular camera, not the CrapCam. The photo was taken less than a week ago, and the leaves on these trees are already turning brown and falling. Autumn: blink and you'll miss it, people.