Friday, December 26, 2008

He vould have an enormous schwanzstucker.

Ladybug pointed me towards this post and dared me (dared me!) to disclose any man crushes I might secretly harbor.

Well, I'm man enough to admit when I find another somebody attractive, even if they happen to have a Schwanzstucker.

Gene Wilder

In his prime there was nobody better in Hollywood that could play a tightly coiled maniac like Gene. He has a unique ability to be able to portray menace, likability and lunacy all at the same time. What's not to like?

Bruce Campbell

The Chin has a self-depreciating sense of humor. I'm a sucker for that sort of thing. Plus- he wouldn't kick you out of bed for eating crackers. He may cut you in two with his chainsaw, but he won't kick you out of bed.

Charlie Chaplin

Something about the Little Tramp just makes me want to give him a hug and tell him it'll be alright.

Zachary Levi

Chuck is a bit like me- geeky with a dangerous side.

Adam West

It was a toss-up between West and Shatner but I though Shatner would be too obvious. They have virtually the same acting style which is to say they can't act a lick, but what redeems them is they get that fact and run with it. They're in on the joke.

Clint Eastwood

In real life Clint's not such a great guy just ask Sandra Locke, but The Man With No Name was about as studly as you could get. I'd love to share a poncho with that guy.

Before you came there had been no sacrifices for a year.

A belated Merry Christmas to all.

Personally, I had an absolutely wonderful, stress-free holiday owing in no small part to the fact we were pretty much snowed-in. We had a ball sledding down the driveway, building snow forts and snowmen and having snowball fights.

But my favorite part of the holiday besides living in a Rockwell painting was that my kids, no longer believers in Santa, STILL had to wake me up at 5:00 a.m. on Christmas morning because they were excited. This left us a couple of tortured hours to kill waiting for my mom to arrive so we could open presents.

My oldest suggested we read a Christmas story to pass the time. Does she whip out a copy of something by Seuss or Livingston? Hell no. She pulls out her worn copy of Lovecraft and begins reading "The Festival" aloud.

"It was the Yuletide, that men call Christmas though they know in their hearts it is older than Bethlehem and Babylon, older than Memphis and mankind."

We passed the story around, continuing where the last person had left off but at some point we got a little silly and our attempts at making the story sound ominous devolved into cartoon voices.

You may have travelled the world or sky-dived or bungee-jumped but I'm here to tell you that you really haven't lived until you're heard Mickey Mouse read H.P. Lovecraft on Christmas morning.

I hope that y'all had a holiday like mine where I came out on the other end feeling MORE sane. That sort of thing's a rarity.

Monday, December 22, 2008

Yeah, you know something... Vermont should be beautiful this time of year, with all that snow.

It's a frickin' blizzard here. They closed the office. They NEVER close the office. Here's a shot of the wife's car and the back deck.

I'm getting cabin fever. All play and no work makes Dean Wormer a dull boy.