...In which I explain Hammer Horror Films to my girlfriend...

(Editor's note.  In the merry month of October, my casual reader's probably are aware that I fill my queue with horror films in the spirit of the season.   My own way of being Halloween's version of KOOL 108 playing X-mas music ad nauseum starting after Thanksgiving.  Time constraints are keeping me from enjoying the lion share of new horror that I like to watch- in addition to my girlfriend *not* being so into the macabre aspects versus the more "pumpkins and smiling scarecrow and Fall leaves" version of the season.  So I try to be respectful.  That said...

In trying to make a list of social media recommendations in order to find some new scares on the tube, I started with Hammer Horror's "The Vampire Lover's"- one that only employed Peter Cushing (Christopher Lee was probably busy recording his metal album) and a bevvy of the staple of curvy, nubile women that Hammer studios was known for using in their movies.  (See Miss Pitt below.)  Anyway, it's terrible.  And when Rach logged in to watch her umpteenth re-run of "Queer Eye for the Straight guy", she yells "Oh my GOD!  You ARE watching vampire lesbian p0rn!!!"  

This, in turn, was what prompted me to try and explain Hammer Horror movies- the entire Gothic cannon of horror- in a nutshell as she looked at me half amusingly and half accusatorily.  It wasn't so much of a Cliff Notes version, as it was more like a auctioneer since my explanations can be rambly and I know that I'd lose her attention after the 1st sentence.

It's about love, really.

So it's Gothic horror, right?  And there are dark castle's, and burning wall torches, and (clipped terrible Peter Cushing voice) "The air is filled with MENACE...yes yes yes MENACE" and then a woman says "General?  Can my comely daughter stay vith you?  Ze way home iz long, and ve need to travel qvickly.  Ve know she will be safe here." And then you see Ingrid Pitt who you KNOW is bad news because she's all...(sucks in cheeks and stares) you know?  And wearing a red cape and choker and the general's daughter SCREAMS at night after seeing SOMETHING  and Ingrid Pitt comes in and is all like "I vill tek care uff you.  You haff nuzzing to fear" and the general's daughter is all like "Yes yes.  You are wonderful and my very best friend.  Please keep me company" and Ingrid Pitt is all taking off her robe and still wearing her red choker and bare-ass and some guy is outside on a horse who is totally a vampire because he's staring up and laughing with pointy teeth and like naked Ingrid Pitt lies with her head on the other girls heaving bosom and she, you know, chomp chomp...

And the next day she's sick and stuff and they're all "give her some steak, she'll be fine" and the daughter suddenly dies and the doctor's all like "bring me my stethoscope" and they undo the DAUGHTER's top and it's like (BRAAAAAM BRAAAMMM VIOLIN MUSIC AND HORNS) PUNCTURE WOUNDS ON HER TA-TA'S!!! and they're all confused "What could have done this?  Harrumph?  We must investigate the MENACE!  MENACE KILLED HER!!  WE'RE GOING TO FIND THE SOURCE OF THE (BRAAAAAM BRAAAAMM VIOLIN) MENACE YES YES HARRUMPH QUITE QUITE GET SOME TEA!"

And so...yeah.  There are a few neck and titty bites, but it's mostly bloodless and they were trying to set themselves apart from the Universal horror 30 some years prior so they did it with some hotties and (usually) tall handsome Christopher Lee or Oliver Reed (notices her confusion) and you saw the one with Daniel Radcliffe?  Harry Potter's Horror movie?*  Yeah.  That was Hammer making a comeback and...

Why are you laughing?  So you don't want to fold laundry and watch the rest of it?


*"The Woman In Black"

The weirdest coincidences always happen to me.  I get on weird, quote-y kicks like some people get songs stuck in their heads.  (That happens too.)  This last week or so I've been paraphrasing the fuck out of "The Birdcage". 

"Men smear"
"YEAH, Smeeeeear".

Not the more famous "I pierced the toast".  Naturally.

Now, *my* friends can do the call and response where I say the first bit and they follow with the "Smeeeear".  It's what nerdy kids do.  I've had to explain it to my girlfriend a couple of times before sending her the link to the scene, which was finally the "Aha" moment as to what the hell I was talking about when I'd be buttering an English Muffin and muttering under my breath: "Yeaaaah, smeeear."  This has been my weirdness the last two weeks. 

And then I read that Robin Williams is dead.

This is one of those weird times when I'm really, really upset about a celebrity passing. For me (personally) it was about my identity as a kid.  Because even though I watched a lot of movies and TV, and "Mork" was part of that line-up...I had a part of my brain that knew cartoons about flying Spider-Men, lightsabers weren't real, perfect nuclear families in the 50's all were make-believe?  There was something like kinship for the fake-alien who ran around and stood on his head and made weird noises.  Who did impressions to make his friend smile.  Who went to a dark room to talk to "Orson", when (in my kidbrain) I thought he was probably just having make-believe conversations with himself to figure things out.

I mean, I did that sometimes.  As...a kid.  Yeah.

I ran around and drove my family crazy.  Parents and teachers would make comments (some good some bad) about my "energy".  How I had fun doing "voices". (Seriously.  It was on an early pre-school report card)  My friends all thought I was "weird".   But during that half hour, I'd play with an old L'Eggs pantyhose egg and a "Starbuck" action figure that my mom let me paint to look like Mork and I'd watch the show and feel like there was someone kind of like me.  Before I knew what that even meant.

So as I got older and you start watching his movies and stand-up (and quoting both),  you appreciate how their comedy comes across and (for me) how I identified with his patter.  And I laughed a lot.  Eventually you learn more about their personal life- their struggle with addiction. You get interested in theater which is your weirdness outlet and how THEY started in theater and you start to learn about their "process", and there was more and more I could identify with:  "Throwing hundreds  of jokes out there and only a couple stick, but you have to keep throwing them out there and trying".  "I tend to be more serious during comedies and during serious dramas ('One Hour Photo' and 'The Fisher King') I'm usually riffing to the crew in between takes."

And the guy went to Julliard?
And he was bff's with Superman?
And (when interviewed about taking an extremely small role in "Dead Again"- at a time when ostensibly he was one of the HUGEST marquee stars in America) about the time he said it's important to find interesting characters and not limit yourself.

Where was I?  Riffing?  Rambling?  Typical. 

When *I* get the opportunity to film/commercial work, I like having the crew as my audience.  I talk with the guys between takes.  Not flying off to ignore them because I'm more important.  If there's supposed to be a scene where I need to riff/wax tangential it feels cathartic...like a dam bursting.  And if the crew is laughing you're probably doing something right.  At the very least, maybe they want you back.

I just wish I was better at writing all that stuff down.

I didn't have posters of Mork or Aladdin up on my wall like some kids idolize favorite player/sportsball team.  I just had a handful of comedians and actors who I'd try and copy when I was a little kid.  (To my parents/coaches occasional chagrin.  There's only so many ways you can try and tell a 12-year-old Mikey that the very "blue" Buddy Hackett "wax job" routine isn't one you should repeat to Gramma Rose.)  And later on when you start doing it seriously, you remember pieces here and there that you pick up from guys like Mr. Williams.  In spite of not being what a lot of people might consider a hero (his charity work with Comic Relief and post 9/11 volunteering as two examples notwithstanding.), at the very least the light and laughter he provided will be deeply, deeply missed.

And I'm very upset.  Because when you feel this weird sense of isolation because people look at you like you're weird and talk too much and say things that don't make sense to them.  Because you have so much rambling through your brain that you would spin in circles until you fell over hoping the words would come out.  Or you'd stand on your head.  Or jump up and down.  Or do impressions.  Or write your feelings.  Or fall in love because there's nothing better than hearing your partner laugh at something you've said, or having them love you in spite of all the weirdness.

I think if you've read this, or know me, then you probably get where I'm coming from.  For my part, I'm going to keep riffing.  And try and keep some of that light spread out in the world.

This picture, because it has a lot of funny.

Happy Half-Birthday To ME!

Editor's Note for the uninitiated:  Since my actual birthday is on Christmas when everyone is usually celebrating with their families, when I was a kid my mom and dad enacted the half-birthday party which took place in June when school was out.  (Giving me the opportunity to have a party with my friends.)  Next to the family road-trip or visiting Gramma and Grampa in Iowa, this was the highlight of my Summer.  While I had a McDonald's birthday, frequent trips to Elm Creek Park Beach (THE ZIPLINE OF DOOM!), there was one particular birthday that showcased my mom/family's particular brand of creativity.  Here at the half-way point to the big 4-0, my embarrassment for your amusement.  Enjoy:

During the Summer of 1980, we were enjoying our new home in a quiet cul-de-sac in good ol' BP.  We hadn't really made a lot of neighborhood friends yet, so when my half-birthday rolled around on June 25th we imported a few buddies from our old stomping ground to come over and celebrate. (This was conveniently only 3-4 blocks away and across 69th, in case you were feeling sympathetic.)

Mom had this great birthday party game she was able to pull from one of those "Do-It-Yourself" kids party guides she acquired at the Library.  And to tell you the truth, it was pretty cool:  The idea was that it was a tactile scavenger hunt/adventure you could host throughout your house.  The adult/parent would have all the kids be blindfolded, then they would all hold hands and walk on a pre-determined route while the adult provided "spooky" commentary.  Kids walk across a sheet in the basement that's been covered in Corn Flakes?  "We're in a cave!  Watch out for the bat eggs!"  Hang a bunch of wet yarn from the ceiling?  "Be careful of the spider webs!"  Have the kids dig around for prizes in a bowl full of peeled grapes?  "Can you find it in the bowl of EYEBALLS?!?!?"

Right.  A little hinky.  But fun.  And creative if you're on a budget.  You're welcome, parents. 

MY favorite bit was when we meandered into the back yard and were made to tromp through the little kiddie wading pool ("We're in the jungle and need to cross the river!  Watch out for pirahna!"), so when the charade was all said and done, I really really wanted to go swimming.  (My mom reminds me that I had significant issues with water, which is to say there wasn't a body of water that I didn't want to go swimming in.  While kiddie pools aren't a big deal, she still spent a great deal of time chasing me down so I didn't go running into the Gulf of Mexico fully clothed, or leaping off into a drop-off area.  You get the point.)

I whined (probably) and my mom finally relented, although she told me that we'd be having cake soon and if I was going to come back in the house "you need to take off your wet clothes so you don't go tracking the water in."  With those instructions in mind, I went back out to the little pool and splooshed.  A little while later, she yelled out the window that she was cutting the cake so I high-tailed it back inside,  careful to remember the instructions she gave me.  No. Wet. Clothes. In. The. House.  Annnnnnnd scene:

This would explain my naked cake-eating kink in my later years.

Days of Future Frassed

There is everything nerdy about this post.

So...in my youth I collected funny books.  I've probably written about it before.  I was small-change, of course.  We had a drawer of comics at the cabin to keep us occupied, and there were a few compilations we had at home (mostly Spider-Man) but my thing was always cartoons.  Because we had some fucking stellar Saturday Morning cartoons in the 70's and 80's.  I digress.

Having some new (meaning- recently transferred in the 5th grade) friends who were in to comics put me on the path to nerd glory.  It would have been around when my "Doctor Who" jones was waning, there weren't any super-hero properties in the theater or television like we have now, and while I was bitten by the comic bug- I wasn't as fanatical as those two kids were.  (I stuck primarily with what I could afford, namely "X" titles.)  What it did do, was give me an education on funny books- the different publishers, artists.  Like my brother's analogy about martial arts: "Enough to make me dangerous, but not enough to go pro".

Anyway...I'm off to Bemidji for theater Summer camp again.  And I thought it'd be funny (because: Me.) if I had some "college-y" posters to put up in my dorm room.  I found some in the basement and while I was rooting around in the rubbage I decided to pop open my sealed Box-O-Comics

It's at this point that I should mention that I feel no shame in still having them instead of unloading them at a comic shop for $5.  I never really saw them as an investment, in spite of having some cherry 1st appearance issues in there.  And what I want on internet record is that it's REALLY AWESOME TO BE IN THEATER AND KNOW PEOPLE WHO LOVE COMICS.  It's like a sub-sub group of nerdy solidarity.  And it's great.

So in there, I have a particularly "non" cherry issue of the famous comic story line "Days of Future Past" (pictured above in a VERY spoiler-y cover).   The non-cherry part comes from the fact that I found it at a garage sale and- knowing how "famous" the story was?  Bought it.  Innnnnnnn spite of the fact that the cover was splattered in blue tempura paint and torn at the top.

So.  In an act unbecoming a 12-year-old, I began my brief career in art forgery.   I carefully and lovingly cleaned off the cover with a damp sponge and allowed it to dry.  I then purchased a new issue of "Uncanny X-Men" (that I already had.  This was probably around #214 or so.  Post "Mutant Massacre") and used an X-Acto knife (IRONY!) to remove the "X" and glue it on the ruined issue.

Go on.  Look at the craftmanship.  I'll wait.

Yeah.  Shoddy job.  I just wanted a clean cover so I could bag it and hang it on my walls with the rest.  (My design ethic circa 1986 was "Comic Store Chic")  My only "real" claim to fame in my collection was that for some weird reason I felt the need to start collecting back issues starting with "Uncanny" #170 and then go forward.   Funny enough, after enough years had passed and I'd moved away from collecting- only to become friends with adult collectors that I learned it wasn't weird at all.  (Before the movies, a co-worker of mine at Target was collecting *every* appearance of Iron Man starting with his 1st appearance in "Tales of Suspense".  And he did it.  And looooook how far his love of a total "B" character has come in 12 years.)

Anyway, it took all of my willpower to *not* sit down and start re-reading and organizing.  In fact, I only pulled some of these choice titles to show my friend Sam, who (along with Carl, Eric, Glen, Michael, etc etc etc etc) would appreciate them.

On an unrelated note?  I just lent my S.O. the 1st three graphic novels of "Sandman".  It's important because I only recently completed collecting all ten of the series and you could kiiiiind of say my friend Glen lending me the series back in 1998 or so is what put me back on the path to loving/appreciating comics.

Enjoy.

The pull bin.  At the top left, you'll see a one-shot of the Mignola inked "Wolverine".  Now, kids, there was a time when every super-hero team roster didn't have Wolverine in it.  In fact, I coveted anything that had his name on it even if it was a crossover with Alpha Flight PROMISING a 'partial' origin story. 

If...for some reason...this title doesn't make you want to scream for a Huge Ackman/Captain 'Merica throwdown?  Nothing will.  Also?  There's a LOT of humanity in this.  As well as Cap "chopping" his shield into Wolvie's hands in order to help him cut the head off a marauding robot.  Don't act like it's not awesome.

You'd never think...when you pick these up...that a "first appearance" would spawn a character so iconic.  And I didn't even like the issue that much, because even when I was in my early teens Liefeld was a joke.  (True story- while I stuck mainly with Marvel and some DC, I had a friend bring in a -in my words- "crappy" black and white one-shot that he thought was awesome.  He was into manga, big time, and appreciated the ninja story line- however he said it was a 3rd reprint so it wasn't too valuable.  I ended up digging it after a while, but who'd have thought "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" would have been a thing?  Not in 1986 they weren't.

So...I guess - and this is mildly spoilery- the X movies are heading toward an Apocalypse storyline.  That's fine.  I just remember *deeply* that he and Mr. Sinister started a marked trend toward the dreaded crossover...and you couldn't follow the stories for shit unless you bought 8 alternate titles.  And there was no fucking way I was buying "Fantastic Four" or "Power Pack'.  You know I'm right.

I pulled this monstrosity b/c I started...to have feelings...very specific feelings...about werewolves.  I hit a "horror movie" phase when comics started to lose their luster in my eyes.  As such, I'd grab crossover goodies like this one even though I could care less about the title.  In other words, it's like you love professional baseball so much that you don't care that you're watching the little league world series on ESPN even though that's fucking stupid as hell.  What's wrong with you?

Ok.  This'll probably get earnest collectors and enthusiasts in a tizzy.  At the cabin, we had "ZERO" cares whether a comic had a non-acid cardboard backing and was bagged. These were all in a drawer to be carelessly pulled out and read and re-read on rainy days we couldn't be out playing Jarts or Trac-Ball.  Also, "cool" titles like Bats up there where shuffled in with Archie, Little Lulu, and Casper.  Also?  There was this weird habit of writing the name of the owner on the front page out of...proprietorship?  So what you're seeing above is a great example of a 46 year old Batman reprint, sans cover and covered in pen ink.  Sorry world.

Why I loved this comic?  Because of shit like this.  Nobody cared what Batman had in his utility belt, only that it contained utilities...except me.  For me, it was like a "How-To" guide to being a superhero, something a desperately wanted to be my entire life.  My entire...life.  My...entire...life...Oh gods...I'm sorry.  I need to drink now.

Or the Batcave!  Look at all the SHIT he has!  We just had forts, and tents, and lean-to's, and Huffy's.  The basement of his HOUSE had all this shit!  I tried bringing my bike into the basement in order to ride it up a make-shift ramp, into the garage, then out the front door.  My mom asked me what I was doing, and I was promptly made to return my bike to the shed.  Kids...don't let your mother's kill your dreams.  You bring your goddamn bike in the house.  Do it.

Home Alone

My roommate is going to be leaving for NZ to visit family.  For two weeks.  I will have the house to myself for two weeks.  To give you a sense of perspective, we have lived together for about 8 years now.  In that time, besides the occasional few days here and there as well as a few weeks in Bemidji- he is the longest individual I've co-habited in my adult life. 

I'd like to point out that I love the Jellybean.  But it'll be really great to have the time at home to myself.  I've got some projects I'd like to do that I've been putting off and aren't so easy when you're navigating around the sensitivities of another person.  I'll have the S.O. over and her cat, so we can "play house" for a while even though she'll be gone a lot at the theater.  Hell, I might even paint.  Coupled with the long awaited Spring/Good Weather, the ability to start running out of doors again, my Spring seedlings starting to flourish, and my recent weight loss has got me feeling consistently optimistic for the first time in months.

Seriously.  Who am I f#cking kidding?  Mail carrier and the neighbor's are gettin' a show, y'all.

Avert yer gaze...ye've been warned...

Clothing optional at Moron Manor until 4/29

Fuh-Fuh-Fuh-Fuh

F#ck this garbage...

On Tuesday, April Fools Day naturally, I left my girlfriend's apartment early in the morning after what (the news report) stated was going to be another unnaturally cold evening during a Winter (now Spring) that has seemingly decide to flip us both middle fingers- one finger of snow and one finger of soul-numbing cold.  As opposed to last year which was just ONE middle finger of lingering snow-into-May.  (Source.  We're "officially" in the record books, but not for a cool record like hugest wangs per-capita or having the best facial hair.)

As a hearty Minnesotan, I'm accustomed to having to bust out the old ice-scraper to provide me some visibility*.  Going to bed that evening, I was greeted with thunderstorms and lightening.  I breathed in the fresh air that had that damp, rotting vegetation smell heralding "true" Spring.  What greeted me, was a car encased in an ever-lasting Gobstopper of gelled ice.

Pictured:  Not Jack Burton.  My hands were too cold to operate a camera and let's face it, anyone who parked outside Monday into Tuesday woke up to this...

I should point out that today's blog was going to be another list-y of reasons why Winter really, really sucks this year but I figure that after 9 years of lackadaisical writing I've probably covered it all before.  However what was wonderful about this ice, was that it was impenetrable. 

The "Fargo" ice scraper freak-out is a dance we ALL know.

I had already busted my "good" ice scraper- a nice lil' jobby with telescoping handle, flex brush, padded grips...yeah, that f#cker snapped in two back in December prompting me to acquire a "B" squad scraper.  And I stood there...on April 1st...Spring...with my car running to warm it up because I spent several minutes and I was unable to actually get any purchase.  The scraper bent slightly, my wrists started straining, I actually "whacked" at it with the corner of the scraper just to try and make an area the chisel could actually get into so that I could...you know?  Scrape?  And it didn't budge.  And I'm kind of strong-ish.  And I had a very, very real image in my mind that I'd be putting my entire body weight into it-before my windshield caves in- and there I go ass-over-teakettle in a pile of shattered glass over my steering wheel and in the front seat.

That's about right...

I'm saying this, for lack of anything better to mention, that we're bracing ourselves for another 6-10"s of snow this weekend. 

Six to ten gawdamn inches.  I've reached my limit.  Mentally and emotionally.  (Along with everybody else, right?  Way to be original, Mikey.)   I suppose I should be grateful that we've had a few days to thaw back and finally be outside in the sunshine.  But truthfully, everything about the last...12 months?  Meteorologically speaking?  Strikes me as a really sick fucking prank.  Long snowy winter, truncated Spring, truncated Summer, ghastly hot (but short) Autumn, steamrolling into another bastard of a Winter?  With record-setting cold and snow?  Then we get a few days above 30-40 degrees (STILL "unseasonably cold") before YOINK...bye comfort...here's your snowy prison rape to welcome you to the weekend.

I'm going back to hard liquor. If you need me, I'll be huddled in my TV room with a frozen pizza and bottle of Captain Morgan private stock. You do me a solid and wake me after the freeze is over and I'll come out of hibernation like Captain America or some shit.

In theater's this weekend, and yes I'll be in nerd-raiment.

*People are still doing the one-swipe across the windshield before driving in this shit.  So imagine, if you will, not only hating the weather but other drivers wandering lanes...speeding...nearly hitting you on icy roads...who can barely see.

History Lessons...for your amusement...

Another year has come and gone (doi), and with it I engage in an annual rite of passage that ranks up there with Spring Cleaning, Professional Sportsball Home Opener(s), and the International Cat Video Festival:  The replacement planner...

As you can see, I have a few of them.  And ICYC, I already bloody well know that there are various apps and diabolical futuristic machinations in place to act as a planner.  (i.e. Google Calendar, MS Outlook and it's lesser twin "LotusNotes".)

Add caption

 

Call me old fashioned, but I like it.  (And call me forgetful, but I have a large calendar collection.  I have this guy I carry with me, my desk AND wall calendar at work.  The calendar above my computer desk at home, and the one on the fridge that serves as a recycling/garbage reminder.)

 

 

 

 

 

 I received my first "At-A-Glance" planner in 1997 from the Target Corp.  (Every year, a planner and desk calendar.  Score, for corporate swag!)  I didn't really think about using it as a journal for a while.  In fact, shocker, I used it for it's intended purpose- schedule/planning/college assignments due, etc.  No, originally?  I actually did keep a journal.  An angsty, angsty journal.  A true "Grail Diary".  And as it just so happens, I was at THE perfect age to have one.

You can feel the power of both the velvet AND silver inlaid unicorn.  MOTHERFUCKING UNICORN!!!

See, I vaguely remember wanting a journal when I got into the 9th grade.  I enjoyed the hell out of writing short stories, and my 9th (previously also my 8th grade) teachers encouraged journals as a way of brain-dumping/generating ideas.  When I first got this...this manly piece of work, I immediately pitched a hormonal fit at my mom- assuming she MUST have picked this girlie thing up at the Dollar store.   After cracking the cover (A cover sans LOCK, btw.) I saw she actually grabbed it from B Daltons at Brookdale as a clearance purchase. 

So while it wasn't a grand leather-bound/padlocked book of mystery from my fantasy?  I made due.

Yeah...I was taking beginner German in the 9th grade so there's smattering every so often.  Note how I point out mom and big brother, as if my dad would've stayed out.  Still, by way of "1st page warnings" it's not bad.  I mean, it isn't "You shall PASS!" or "Only a penitent man will enter!"...but it's okay.

I reference that this is my 2nd attempt at journaling, even though that 1st edition has been lost to the elements.  I'm guessing that one is about how frustrated I was at the crossover technique Marvel was using to get me to buy more comics- and how turning the TV to channel "2" when it was on a certain cable channel meant you got squiggly p0rno movies on the Spice channel. 

In short, pretty boring.  No, 15-year-old me is much more interesting.

And so, in early 1990 I began chronicalling what life was like for me in the 9th grade.  In between frassin' about hockey tournaments, auditioning for plays, and the various love pangs I felt for my classmates, I (on occasion) would comment on current events.  (Gorbachev visiting Minneapolis, the Berlin Wall coming down, etc.  But let's face it, it's the spastic descriptions of open-mouth kissing at the Sadie Hawkins dance you fiends reallllly want to hear about.)

That's right.  You get it all:  Dirty stories about the 1st time I (fooled around, lost my virginity etc.), the animosity I felt toward class mates who were being (in my mind) abusive toward girls *I* liked, family frustrations, the time I tried getting my DL- failed- and re-took the test.  Lot's and lot's of ego-centric hubris abounds.  And I kept it up for (at the time) a whopping 2 years...until I turned 18.  And then it appeared my scribbling days were at an end.


"We cannot get out...drums in the deep...we cannot get out...- 12/25/1992"  No, seriously.  I talk about how awesome adulthood is gonna be.  And...it's been awesome? 

 

A few years ago, I learned that reading these out loud to company is pure comedy.  (If you and your spouse/partner/lover are comfortable, it's pretty funny pillow-talk, IMO.)  I might even try my hand at turning this into a spoken word/storytelling type of stage show with some of the greatest hits.  It's that dirty and ridiculous- two things that sell tickets.

 

 

Now, in the stack of planners, I can see that I did attempt at one point to keep a planner- again, for it's intended purpose since I was still writing in fluffy horny up there in the early 90's.  As a companion piece, you can clearly see below that there were the foundations of remembering HUMONGOUS and MONUMENTOUS events from my childhood...such as:

Ironic this was provided to me from the same hospital where I was birfed.

Mono...the kissing disease...that a guy who hadn't really kissed anyone procured from drinking out of the community water jug at Football games.  Reynolds gave it to half the team, AND it made it so I couldn't play hockey that year.  So?  I auditioned for the musical.  Bad idea ,that.

"This fourth of July?  Get ready to DIE HARDER!!!"  Seriously, seeing the Die Hard sequel was important enough to note in my planner.

And if this whole thing has a point, it's this:  As a memory stimulator, I find that the planner's and the gernal have proven pretty instrumental with going back and being able to specifically remember what was going on at those moments of my life.  This is important, because it also helps me diminish the possibility of my own revisionist history.  Like I said, when I was first given the planner for 1997-

 

It was fantastic.  I had to keep track of karate, the 24 hours a week I worked at the Bullseye, my class load, rehearsal schedules.

 

Booooooorrrrring.  Where's the SMUT?!?!?!

And it was around the time I went through a tough Fall break-up at the start of my 2nd year at the "U" where I began adding more specific details, events, feels, and yeah- what I might've done the night before.  Warts and all.

A classic example was when I met a girl for drinks at Mayslacks in NE Mpls.  When she went to go schmooze with her girlies, I got the worst case of the hiccups and nothing could hold them off.  I even tried locking myself in a toilet stall and holding my breath, all while making farting noises so people thought I was doing my business.  I ended up walking out on my date and vomiting next to my big-ass Crown Victoria.  Which subsequently was the only thing that stopped the hiccups.

 

Occasionally, I found notes to myself that I scribbled while on the phone. 

Yeah.  This was the year I was called to understudy the 5 primary male leads at a big frassy Twin Cities theater about a week before they opened- all while being involved in another production.  I was terrified.

Even as recently as 2014, I made a point to record not only important events, but general feelings on topics such as- say- the weather...

Writing this on one of our 1st 40+ degree days we've had since Fall 2013 feels so goooooood.   FYI- I noted that it was "impossibly" cold out.  Yeah?

 

I think I'll keep doing this until I retire.  I like being able to cross-reference life-events with the matter-of-fact things that pop up on the day-to-day.  In fact, there might be a pretty good chance that YOU were mentioned in these here tomes. 

 

Maybe.

If Ray was the heart and soul, Egon was the dignity and class...(RIP, Harold Ramis)

I went a little nuts in the 4th grade during the book fair.

We have an unusual blog today.  I'm not given much to use this as a pulpit to eulogize- one of the last celebrities I remember commemorating was Carson, and a few years back talking about my feelings on that terrible a-hole who still had an Academy Award winning/Bechdel-passing movie made about them.  I even tend to keep the one's that are closer to home, like my dad or my uncle's pretty mum.  there are things I feel comfortable sharin', and things that mean the grief is far too near.  Celebrities, for better or worse, have a latitude that means we can rhapsodize about them for good or ill.  And while I don't subscribe to anything tabloid-y, it doesn't mean that I don't keep apprised of what's going on in their world.  Usually it's just noise.

So today, I learn that Harold Ramis passed away after battling an undiscussed and undisclosed illness.  He was 69.

And in a year, a brief...brief 2014, where we've lost some pretty great one's?  This news has nailed me in the gut from the 1st moment I read about it.

Why?  It was probably after I found out that he was the main scribbler/director behind all of those great comedies I'd sit down and watch when I was a kid.  (Heavily scrubbed, in rotation after Noon on our local Twin Cities affiliate, channel 9.)  "Caddyshack", "Stripes", and "Meatballs" were on nearly ALL the time.  I don't even think I saw them in their original, unedited, form until I was in my very early teens. 

 I wanted to be Bill Murray.  Venkman, Tripper, et.al.  That was how I wanted to be in real life.  Cool.  Helped the little guy.  Funny.  Witty.  Scored with Dana Barrett.  Whenever we played "Ghostbuster's" (and we played it.  A lot.)  I was Venkman.  Except it wasn't Venkman, right?  It was the creation of this guy using Murray as his mouthpiece.  See what I'm getting at?  It was his creation of these characters, in these movies, that I love that I worshipped. 


Man.  After "Star Wars" ran it's course and even though I didn't understand some of the more adult aspect's of the humor of some of his earlier films like "Caddyshack" and "Meatballs", "Ghostbusters"?  Came along at THE perfect time for me.  With the balance of funny, scary, smart (did I mention I looked into getting degree's in psychology and parapsychology?)...yes, fantastical elements abounded...but here was a group of guys.  Just guys.  Not human spider's, bionic men, or grumpy telekinetic space-wizards.  And they all represented something about what I thought it meant to be a grown-up and "cool".  To be a little nerdy kid who liked reading and playing make-believe to not be in such a hurry to grow up.  ("Hey?!?  Does this pole still work?")  To question authority, and the accepted status quo.  (Within reason.  "Yes your honor...it's true.  This man has no dick")  To not give up in the face of adversity.  (I mean...you sort of figured Peter and Dana would get together, but it was her staunch refusal and his persistance and commitment to "All new old cheap moves" that eventually put them together)

And these were all his words.  His ideas.  Everybody gets a good line.  The a-holes always get their comeuppance.  Everybody gets Romance, even if they aren't stand-up heroes.  "Ghostbusters", and through no coincidence the other '84 comedies "Revenge of the Nerds" and "Real Genius" made it feel okay to be a kid who was in the Gifted program.  Who wasn't to great at sports, who liked writing stories and playing make believe, who had wistful love pangs for unattainable girls.  Even in the Scouts, I can tell you for fact that my brother and I were Patrol Leader's we were more in line with the Bluto's and Tripper's of the world versus the straight-laced/upright Walter Peck's/Dean Wormer's.   And the younger scouts dug that, and the Scout Leader's would tolerate it.  But I like to remember that we were fair and had fun.

And yes, celebrity worship is not my thing.  And yes, people die all the time.  In the last few years, I've lost my dad and very recently my uncle- two guys who had a tremendous affect on my sense of humor.  And I'm here to say that Harold Ramis had that effect on me, and all my fellow Ghostbuster lovers out there. 


And it's a big old drag.

No...it's really that cold.

No, really.  I'll post something pithy when my jaw unclenches.  We're now closing in on the end of January that's been a Winter weather touchstone to remember.  (AKA:  The winter they cancelled school 5 x's in one month, aka: the January that had maaaaaaybe 5 days above freezing etc.)

To re-address the cold-weather snow-loving Pollyanna's out there who sniff and scoff at the rest of us kvetcher's- if the consecutive days of dangerous sub-zero temperatures aren't enough to make you bat an eyelash, I'd like to take a step further by saying I'd be okay...really, I think having 4 seasons is fine (Winter included), but I'm growing weary of the way my car responds when I try and start it in the morning, and it's that same complaintive reluctant engine turnover (with the occasional dead battery) that sets the tone for the rest of the day.  Temps in the low 30's?   20's?  Hell, the teens? 

If you don't own a garage (or a garage with a heater), then your car is outside.  If your car is outside overnight and you don't get up to turn the engine over, it's at the mercy of -50 below windchills in addition to the ambient "still" temperature...which last night (1/27) got down to a balmy 24 below zero in the Cities.

I walked my friends dog, bundled and wrapped I was, and the tiny pieces of exposed skin showing outside of the eye holes on my ski mask gave me a thumping ice-headache.  So...it sucks.  Not as bad as the climate-change naysayers.  (Let's face it...you hear them at work or the occasional "Well WHERE'S your global warming NOW?!?!?" comments...which, and this is a factual statement:  Is stupid.)  I figure I can let the good folks at xkcd explain it better here.

(I promise, promise I'll have the funny stuff next time.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! (We can still say that, right?)

Hey, true-believers!  Happy 2014 to the three of you followers!  I know I say I'm going to write more, and I have a plan (more in a tick), but the weather has been legendarily cold the last 10 days or so.  When it dips down to "historical low's" and gets a nickname like "Polar Vortex" (which sounds to me like a s#itty plot contrivance on "Doctor Who" or "Star Trek"), the tendency is to hunker down.  Stay inside.  And episode-gorge on past episodes of "The X-Files".  

Anyway, my fingers were too cold to type- what with getting up periodically in the middle of the night to start my car as temps dipped down into the 20's below zero (40's-50 below windchills) for a few nights, then waited behind the wheel as Jack Burton slowly warmed to life.    (Thank you for starting for me, Jack.)  Also, I was trying to keep positive and toss my normal goofy bon mot's out into the social media-sphere, being that a lot of people were putting up the same meme's left and right.

"Going to the store"?  Nope, I went to Cub BEFORE the predicted low's got too dangerous.

 

When the real meme's shoulda been this.  I'd come in my house, flex my fingers a little and swear I saw little Ugnaught's running round.  That also could have been the wine.

 

More accurate than I care to comment on.  Let's just say that my biggest gripe about the recent weather was with insensitive people who forget that griping about the weather is our right as Minnesotan's.

As a reminder, I don't think "best of" lists are official until after the year actually comes to a close.  I'm not begrudging people who send out "this is what happened" Christmas Cards, but I think that they make them and send them before the end of November, and December is a big frassy month for things to happen (ex: My s.o.'s car accident), so I've put together a brief list of my 2013 highlights!

(ps- We're experiencing Vortex the second this week.  Instead of a freak-out, most Minnesotan's are sort of "meh.  You're boring winter.  Go home.")


BRIEF LIST OF 2013 HIGHLIGHTS (Not the magazine)

Theater:

1st time at the Paul Bunyan Playhouse ("Guys on Ice") and Mu Performing Arts ("Kung Fu Zombies vs. Cannibals".  Tommy Gun Trouble and some Improv shows at the Caves.  The world premiere web series "Theater People".  

(Differences from 2012) Sadly, I missed doing Halloween Tours, performed in zero Fringe shows and lastly- secured zeeeeero industrial/print/commercial work in 2013.  Financially, that sucks balls.  You win that round, 2012.

The Home Front:

Replace the hot water line running upstairs from my basement.  (This was huge.  We'd be showering with barely a trickle of hot water from the tap until they replaced the line entirely with PEX.  Smart move, that.  Next step?  New bathroom.)

Electricity went out during Fringe (IOW- Thank the Gods I wasn't in a show, however I missed almost the entirety of Fringe.)

The Garden was pretty much status quo.  A great abundance of green peppers, beautiful eggplants,  potatoes, and an overabundance (per normal) of Zukes.  The tomatoes were meager and mealy and indicated that 2014 will require a garden turnover/aeration-tilling, newspaper mulching, compost, and prayer.  As well as a scaling back the volume I plant to give the roots plenty of room to breathe.  Also?  I'm only planting one effing zucchini.  Those selfish bastards.

(Differences from 2012)  Last year we replaced the central A/C as the annual"big project".  (2 major projects trump a comfort project, even if one was very low-cost)  I also hit the Farmer's Market a few more times and went a grand total of "Zero" in 2013.  (Although we happened upon a street fair in Bemidji)

The Health and Family Front


So this year was challenging.  There were some bouts of sickness with my niece and nephews that were scary as well as some extended family needing hospital stays.  On the personal front, my mom got into a fight with the big "C" and after a forced diet of having her kidney removed, spent the rest of the year convalescing but is currently still on the up and up.  And sadly, we lost my Uncle Jim (Dad's older brother) in March.

As to my narcissistic/dysmorphic bent- I neither lost significant weight (In spite of starting "MyFitnessPal") but started to gain significant weight toward the end of the year.  My running tapered off significantly (we had a hella long winter that made training outside almost impossible and I injured myself in May), I only ran in 4 races (The Undie Run, Get Lucky, Red/White/Boom, and a return to the fracking Mud Run...which I PR'ed, strangely) HOWEVER I did:

-Get my Brown Belt...finally.  (In fact, all year my commitment was primarily to karate when I wasn't gigging.  Which meant I didn't get injured when the Mu show came around.)
-Quit drinking soda/avoiding aspartame.  That's right.  We're trying a lifestyle that is unprocessed and containing few to no chemicals.  That means no more "Fat-Free" or "Lite" will be passing these lips.  You heard it here.

(Differences from 2012) Some illnesses in the immediate family, the only death was a dear friend in my theater world, I ran more and in more races...but I think I was more well rounded.  So "2013" wins.

The last- LAST few big announcements of 2013:

-We finally shuffled off our old cabin (technically it happened this year) and established our newest family "compound" in Prior Lake.  Here's to many more years of memories, and to fond rememberance of the old shack in Quamba.

-I got to TRAVEL!  That's right, my first honest-to-goodness vacation with Ranch to the sunny Southwest.  (AZ and NV)  80 degrees in November?  I'll take it.

-20 YEARS, MAN!!!  Yup.  Celebrated my 20 year high school reunion.  I made it through without really embarrassing myself or throwing up. 

-A surplus of various events, including The State Fair, Ren Fest, NE Mpls Parade, Art-A-Whirl, Basilica Block Party, visiting the S.O's cabin in Wisconsin, boat trips/lake floats, fireworks, and one of the best "Christmas Orphan/Birthday" I'd had in years. 

My biggest take away from 2013?  It went so. Stinking. Fast.  The year snoooowballed past at such an alarming rate that I'm hoping to be better about savoring moments day by day in 2014.

I mean, I'll be turning (hrrmbphfortyhrrrmph) this year. F#ck.  I'll try and surprise you with material and annual commitments as they occur.


NEXT BLOG!!! TIME TRAVEL AND EMBARRASSMENT!!!

Greetings from the Future, Birthday Boy!!!

Hello, past self!

This is your future-self who wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday, From the Future!  See?  You know I'm legit because you're still around (don't jinx it there, Sarah Conner.) and that I'm wishing these birthday greetings before the well-wishes come in on Social Media!  (Another prediction- you'll get more than your immediate family but less than the entirety of  your posted number of friends.  That's just how it goes sometimes.)

Just to clear things up: I'm only from the not-too-far future and not the "far-far" because that guy is a total asshole.

Seriously.  His predictions come with a handshake that he pulls back at the last minute saying "PSYCCCCCHE!!!"

Naw, dude.  I'm here to skip over the birthday frass and end-of-year listing and resolutioning to give you some good, practical advice for 2014.  Which, in case you missed it is the last year of your 30's.  (Kidding.  KIDDING!  I'm YOU!  I know it's been wiggling around your brain and periphery the last month or so.  Drop it.)  I also know you'd have preferred I visit your 16-year-old self or even 1996 Mikey to drop some wisdom but there was a problem with the calibration and the rectification of the Voldranii and the last of the mecketric supplicants.  Well, it's just too technical for you.  (Sorry, SORRY!  I know you had snark, sarcasm, and condescendsion but...hey man.  Taste of your own medicine, amirite?  High five.)

Anyway.. take all of this with a grain of salt, brother.  The future is really Not Set, so I'd just as soon you take what I've learned over the next 12 months and at least maybe try to apply some of them.  If you could also continue to take care of yourself...your whole self...this future guy and maybe Future Crankpants I mentioned might not have to come back and visit with you again next year.  Seriously.  Who would've known you/me/we turn into a total 8th grade math teacher?

Ebbbbbbbeneeeeeezer Scrooo---cough cough cough---sorry.  Kiiiiiidding....Here's your birthday list, old man.  Trust me:

-You're fine.  Seriously.  People make fun of you for saying it, but it's as good a mantra as any to pick yourself up and continue forward.

-Really, really try to stop overthinking.

-If you think you're probably trying too hard/being excessive?  You are.  Definitely are.

-Try and listen more.  I shouldn't have to go back in time to give you advice- there's some good stuff to be learned just by listening, really listening.  You were better at this in 1991, actually.  I think it was because you were in a learning environment versus a production/job environment.

-You were given a remarkable mulligan and some pretty amazing opportunities in 2013.  You can bask in those and use the energy to propel you into the next thing.  My point is, don't always feel like you need to "take time to decompress" or whatever the shit it is you do.  Or wait for that other shoe to drop.

-You'll still swear a lot, just keep it down in front of the kids and important people.  And polite company.  And, your mom.   And...fuck...This is hard.  Just, uh, don't swear.  You won't succeed, but at least you'll be thinking of this...fatfuckface.

-Stop. Dragging. Your. Feet.  On everything.  You know.  I wish I could tell you the secret, since you're so damn stubborn when it comes to other people telling you what to do.  You'll need to figure that one way to kick yourself in the ass on things.  "Far-Far" Future Mikey (He prefers being called "Captain Six-Pack McLongdong" in the future.  In fact, hey...while I'm advice-ing you?  Can you not do that some day?) has comprised a list of your future regrets and also the secret to motivating yourself...then he pulled his hand away and said "PSYYYYYYCHEEE...Beeeeeeeee----itch!"

-Continue trusting your gut and be comfortable/okay with saying "No".  Conversely? Don't be afraid to jump ship to a new/better opportunity.  (Lest you take root and turn into a tree.  Like "Groot".)

-Be patient.  And by "patient", I mean stop with the dramatic reactions when things don't immediately go your way.  People will appreciate your "cool".  Or at least, not categorize you as a Spaz.

-Spend more time with your family.  Your niece and nephew are at the perfect age for...things.  You'll just have to enjoy discovering what those things are with them.  (Art-Fay Ongs-Say...)

-You have a lot of friends having babies.  And you just aren't funny any more by saying you're terrible around babies and better around bottles.  (Snerk.  Good one, past-Mikey)  Let's chuck that sentiment and give the baby-makers their due.  Okay?  They worked harder than you did to make that new carbon-based form of life, aware of the sacrifices, dealing with sickness/shots/fears/insecurities on a 24 hour/7 day basis.  They deserve a bit more respect and loving encouragement.  All you've had to worry about was weather you'd get Chinese take-out or Chipotle for lunch.

-Make yourself more available to other people.  Build karma points.  This includes helping friends move, babysitting, and getting your ass out and volunteering.  Anonymous donations are fantastic.  It's another feeling entirely to make your entire person available.

-Take better care of yourself...in your headspace.  Stop thinking about scenarios, conversations, outcomes that haven't even happened.  I'd like to be surprised by things once in a while, and being more "in the moment" is good for life and acting.

-One of the regrets"Far-Far" future You-chebag apprised me of, was how you didn't practice writing more- and how many of your "resolution" lists have "write more" on them.  Maybe try dropping more on a daily basis, regardless of the quality of content.  In FACT, forcing yourself to write LESS might make you write a little BETTER.  (Oooooo...yeah, sorry.  That was from a Facebook newsfeed post from one of your writer friends from SOME such college journal.  I won't tell you who it is, because you currently think they're a good writer but a little chuffy...and so far you get kind of bored by their self-congratulatory tone of their updates.  Which, I might add, are entirely in your head.)

-Really try to get your feet in the surf.  The ocean surf.  You might not make it, but try.

-Don't watch that movie.  Or that one.  In fact...yeah. 

-Speaking of learning and listening and the last time you were a great listener/learner being when you were in classroom environments...you know what to do.

-Get a new car.  New to you.  You'll be grateful for the peace of mind.

-Stay open...to anything.

-Stay closed...to some things.  (Don't visit comments sections in 2014.  That's all I'm gonna say.)

-That one joke?  And the other?  Aren't that funny when you're closer to 40 versus 1996 Mikey who had better game.  It makes you sound old, pervy, and the same kind of cat you made fun of when you were younger.

-Stay committed.  Karate, bettering the world, being a good employee, partner, son, brother, uncle.  Keep at it.



Okay.  Lists are still good things in the future and they keep you on task.  Some final thoughts:

Don't go back for seconds or accept it when the bowl is passed around for a 2nd helping.  Same goes for booze.

They'll all like/appreciate what you got them.  Even if you only give everyone 1 little thing.  Don't worry about it.

Just keep living.  "Far-Far" Future Mikey says our spirit animal "The McConnaughey" is revered for his hippy-dippy wisdom. 

Okay.  Gotta go.  Maybe next time I'll come back early with the winning Lotto or something.  (Did I miss the Mega-Millions drawing by a week?  Mannnnn...I'm sorry.  I'll get you next time, yeah?)

Hasta La Bye-Bye, homeskillet!

FYI- In 2014?  Still no jetpacks or hoverboards.  And since you bitch about MN drivers in any weather condition, do you honestly think that flying cars are a good idea?  You don't need the stress, Me.

4 reasons Winter really, truly, is awful

"Well...that's an hour I won't get back".  (Co-worker of mine regarding being stuck in traffic on the way in to work.)

As of my typing of this, we're still technically several days away from metereological "Winter".  Here in the Midwest, as Summertime loosens it's sweaty grip and the leaves begin to change,  a very small section of us start hailing the coming of Winter as a wonderful time.  They are the one's who have snowmobile calendars and quirky little "Ice Fishing" prayers pinned up to their cubes at work or collection of lift-tickets at littering the zipper rung of their Columbia Jacket's, I would never begrudge the casual hobbyist their seasonal joy...except when that season drags on like sharpened frozen obsidian.  These people are wrong. 

"Autumn", the truly beautiful season where you won't get swassy coming too and from your car...where you can wear jeans and sweatshirts and feel comfortable...where the landscape takes on the most wonderful hues outside of a school of clownfish lasts all of 15 minutes before it gets brutally cold.  And this year we are experiencing an early deep-freeze that George RR Martin couldn't dream up.  With my recently reading a great tumblr from a friend (from the South, no less.  Which you can/should check out here.) effusively praising winter, and experiencing my roommate's positively gleeful reaction to the cold(Except, he's qualified, for sub-zero temps), I think I've read my last Twit/Status update on how lovely this time of year is...And I'm about to straighten things out for y'all. 

No.  Really.  We're a hearty breed.  And we can also bitch mightily:

Transportation

This is a given, and topical seeing's how my S.O. just got into a fender bender.  (She's fine.  Fortunately she avoided other cars and physical injury and managed to slide into a concrete post outside of a Dairy Queen.  Because irony is sliding on ice in front of a DQ.)  Of course traffic sucks, and inclement weather always slows things down to a crawl.  Naturally, snow and subsequent icy conditions cause traffic to slow to a shuffling shamble seen only on "The Walking Dead".  It is necessary.  It is awful.  The first weekend we had slushy accumulation was immediately followed by a sub-zero freeze.  MNDOT is able to pre-treat the roads with chemicals to assist the plows with clearing the roads.  The rest of it is the benign hope we'll have some sun to melt away the rest and clear days to dry out.  Which doesn't happen.

What happens is you either get (A) uneven road conditions that cause hell with your alignment and driving as frozen nubbins pepper the roads and make it feel like you're driving up the base of Devil's Tower.  (Frozen, FYI, doesn't mean you get traction.  You'll still slide.) and (B) Patches of black or glare ice.  For some reason, you can be going below 3 mph...a crawl...and if you apply your brakes- thinking erroneously you're slow enough to stop- you'll still slide.  Sometimes picking up momentum as you go along.  I was commuting to work a few years ago, giving a wide berth so there was room.  It was snowy and icy, and you can gauge how awful it is when you first pull out.  I was in traffic going verrrrry slowly, and still managed to slide forward 50 feet into a truck in front of me.  And there was nothing. I. Could. Do.  

Upsides?  None.  You still contend with occasionally getting stuck in one spot with spinning wheels or if you're parked on a street when a plow comes through and pushes a snow berm up to your windshield.  Or the fact that to get your brush out of your car when it's snowed, you'll still get a "Bloop" of snow that falls on your seat.  Or that you can SEE when people have brushed off that small area in front of the driver side and rely on wind speed to blow off the rest of the snow.  (Which, ICYC, doesn't happen and is illegal as hell.)  Or the gas wasted on super cold nights starting your car to make and letting it run for a bit to ensure it starts in the morning. (And resentment when you see pristine cars that obviously were parked in a garage overnight.)  And lastly, people who drive SUV's, Trucks, etc who think they can still barrel forward on the freeway's because they have 4WD.  Which only means they can get out of a snowbank, and will still plow into you.  Because they're dumb as s#it.

It's unpredictable

It's weather.  See the aforementioned comments about MNDOT plows being unable to clear the roads fast enough if we're unlucky and get a dumping.  Meteorologists confess there's nothing to be done when they project an "arctic blast coming in from the North" or "expect a few inches overnight".  They LOVE to create douche-y catch phrases like "Snowpocolypse" or "Snowmaggedon" when we get a dumping. 

The Farmer's Almanac (and that f#ck head Groundhog Phil) usually act as our long-range forecasters in terms of whether winter will be a long affair or mild.  But as I mentioned before, our cold "snap" started in early November.  And it feels awful because last winter (2012-2013) didn't release us until Mid-May.   My point is, any state or area that thinks a snowfall in June is something to brag about, needs to check their priorities and "mush" their ass up to the Yukon.

(***Note:  That unpredictability can also result in unseasonably warm winters as well.  I'll cite '98/'99 when it was in the 70's heading into December and running outside in shorts and a tank top, as well as 2011 to 2012 in which I went on a date in February while wearing a light jacket and strolling through St. Paul.)

Cessation of any (safe) Outdoor Activity

Minnesota, the Twin Cities in particular, is frequently touted as being one of the best "outdoorsy" states- flaunting our trail systems, city lakes and parks, bike-a-bility.  They further try to make a case that we're a winter wonderland of activities- snow shoeing, cross-country and downhill skiing, ice skating...and I'm here to tell you- f#ck no.

First of all, even walking outside in the winter time is problem.  In the city, homeowners are responsible for shovelling their sidewalk in front of their home.  And guess what?  Not every body does it!  That's right!  I'm a runner, and there are frequently mounds of snow in front of homes that get packed down and tromped through by pedestrians when the owner's either give ZERO f#cks or assume Spring time'll take care of it eventually.

Crossing the street?  See the aforementioned comments about cars that lack control at intersections.  Not to mention the icy patches that create uncontrollable trip hazards where you will be going from standing to horizontal before you realize what's happened.  This means twisted knees and ankles, and if you're really unlucky a concussion. 

But what about the fun stuff?  Ice skating is fun, right?  Mmmmm...not really.  Snowmobile accidents average 200 deaths a year and 14,000 injuries.  Cross-country skiing and snowshoeing are exercises in knee and ankle injuries, and sledding/tubing incidents have caused most hills to implement waivers due to people slamming into unexpecting participants.  Ice fishing!  THAT'S fun!  YEAH?!?

Sure.  But even that is a misleading activity, as the actual amount of fishing/catching fish you do is not at all analagous to the amount of drinking, eating, sitting around in a heated shack listening to the radio/watching a portable TV before needing to go outside to pee yourself a frozen kickstand.

Oh...and it's cold.  Like, it gets ridiculously cold.  You don't get to do anything to stand around and "enjoy" the cold.  No.  It's dangerous, can result in any exposed skin becoming frostbitten in minutes, and even fun events to draw crowds are mostly an attempt to get you to enjoy the stupidly dangerous or nonsensically boastworthy.

The mind-numbing Sisyphesian Repetitive Nature of Winter, aka "Prison Bulls#it"

If you've seen "Cool Hand Luke", you'll remember the scene where the warden makes Luke dig a ditch, only to re-fill it and re-dig it.  It was intended to break his spirit...and through movie magic you know it doesn't.  (SPOILER Alert- he has a kick ass monologue directed at God before getting his ass shot by the search party after he escapes again.)

In 2010, we had one of those aforementioned sexily titled snowstorms (Snowmaggedon)that dumped 20+ inches down over 24 hours and promptly turned the state of MN into Hoth.  (The last record setting accumulation was a freak storm on Halloween in 1991...see previous bullet regarding unpredictability.)  That day, I shoveled a grand total of 5 x's  which included: The front walk, the sidewalk in front as well as my elderly neighbors, the long back walk (I have a larger lot for the city.), the driveway in order to get the garbage bins out, the walk out roof so that the snow didn't cave it in, the snow berms pushed up by the plows (requiring me to excise the cars from all the snow wedging it's way under wheel wells and making sure the tires had some traction.)  The entire time I kept thinking of old Lukey and I cursed the snow...which didn't help my separated shoulder and pinched nerve in my back.

Now, there are some people who have garages...and snowblowers...but folks, this was even overwhelming the plow trucks- which couldn't clear the freeways fast enough.  The were telling people to STAY HOME and STAY INSIDE.  Cars were getting stranded then plowed in and SNOW PLOWS were spinning out of control.  "Snowmaggedon" wasn't an inappropriate moniker.  And the only positive thing was that it happened over the weekend.  Think about the Halloween storm when the snow plows aren't even gassed up and out of their storage.

I inherited a Carhart snowsuit system after my dad passed.  It (and he) is/was a 50 Tall.  When I wear it, I feel like a Russian Nesting Doll.  I only break it out when we get into double-digits below Zero.  That snowmaggedon, I was forced to walk to the liquor store for some wine in the middle of the streets because it was thigh-deep everywhere else, only trudging out of the way if a truck was coming through.  Because I couldn't drive.  In fact, if I wear it in my car I can barely stretch the seatbelt over my lap. In 1996, I was forced to get up every 3 hours because we had record-setting cold and if I didn't start my engine on my used Crown Vicky, she wouldn't start at all.  (And she didn't, naturally)

Before you chalk this Negative Nelly-ism to all gloom and doom, please understand- I love the "Holidays".  The winter wonderland.  I love a White Christmas/Birthday.  It's pristine and pretty and washed in nostalgia and cheer.  I just have a cut-off point.  And that cut-off point lands exactly on February 18th.  At that point I am over and done with Winter.  Like, now.*  And as I mentioned previously, with last winter and this winter happening so close that they could almost hold hands (and effectively robbing me of a Summer.**)  I reached "Sick of this s#it" levels approximately 2.5 months early.

*And moving isn't an option.  Right now, the warmest part of the nation is Florida.  And I'm not going to jump from a shark tank into the lion cage for a neverending Summer.  I won't. Touch. America's. Wang.  They crazy.
**The sad thing is that if we don't get a good heavy dumping of precipitation we wind up hearing about it throughout the Spring and Summer...