Three Completely Unrelated Topics

1:
I posted this comment on Mattress's blog.
Sometimes I think I'm funny.
This was one of those occasions.
To set it up, Matty was talking about the new season of the Amazing Race.
The twist they put on this season is that they decided to do it "Family Style."
10 teams of 4 family members compete in a race around the world for $1 million.
The teams of note are:
-This horribly obnoxious family from New York. The children are the absolute epitome of what's wrong with 99.9% of the children in American society in the 21st Century. They are hateful, annoying, and completely disrespectful to their parents, and the parents have exactly ZERO disciplinary skills.
-This totally adorable black family called, of all things, the Blacks. How funny is that? They have two extremely well-behaved precious little children who come from the .1%. I would have totally been rooting for them to win the whole thing, but alas, they were eliminated last night after the first leg of the race.
-Also a family from Central Florida, the Weavers. They lost their father/husband in a tragic accident. They love Jesus. A little too much, if you ask me. Mom Weaver thanks Jesus or praises Jesus literally every time she speaks. She's like the born-again Annelle from Steel Magnolias. As Truvy said: "Maybe she's praying for Drew and Belle. Maybe she's praying for us because we're gossiping. Maybe she's praying because the elastic is shot in her pantyhose! Who knows! She prays at the drop of a hat these days."

Now I'll share my comment from Matty's blog:
Yeah...that New York family sucks.
I thought it was funny that they got lost in their own hometown.
They are going to be the "Jonathan and Victoria" of this season, which means you know that they won't get eliminated ever, no matter how much everyone hates them and sends them the "lose this race"-vibe.
-I was upset about the black Blacks losing, if not for the cuteness, then at least for the irony of their names.
-The Weavers have a heart-warming story or some junk, yadda yadda yadda, but they drive me crazy because they can't seem to speak one complete sentence without mentioning Jesus. Thanks, Weavers, but I highly doubt that Jesus told the producers to put you on the show, as Mom Weaver suggested.
Could you imagine?:
"Hey, Amazing Race? Yeah, this is Jesus. What? Yeah, I know, thanks. So, I'm super busy right now, what with leaving that single track of footprints in the sand everytime someone experiences a personal tragedy; and of course, there's Whitney and Bobby. They require special attention. Huh? I know! Anyway, there's this family, the Weavers, you got their audition tape, right? Cool. So, hey, if you wouldn't mind...you know, they've gone through a lot lately, so let's get them to race around the world with 9 other families to see if they can pull through with that 10% chance at winning a million dollars, okay? You'll do it? Awesome! Thanks. Take care, and may my dad and I bless you."
*sigh*
Don't even get me started.
I'm hoping they get eliminated next week.
We'll see if they blame THAT on Jesus.

******************************

B:

This is completely hypothetical and in no way is it a school-inspired story.

Okay, so, here's the thing.

It's acceptable, when in a relationship, to color-coordinate.

I even encourage it.

If you and your relation go out and wear outfits/colors that complement each other, it looks nice.

No one wants to see one person wearing black, the other navy blue; one orange, the other purple; one pink, the other orange; etc.

Now here comes the big, ba-dunk-a-dunk, baby-got-back, but:

BUT, it is in no way cute or funny or anything other than annoying and stupid to go around day after day after day after day wearing the exact same clothes.

ESPECIALLY if you are a supposed-heterosexual male (even though everyone, probably including your fianceé, knows that you are queerer than a 3-dollar bill) and said-fianceé dresses you in clothing (probably her own clothing) in a way that makes you look more like identical toddler twins than an affianced couple.

Oh, and by the way, if you are a heterosexual male who insists upon wearing flip-flops with your jeans every single day, you might want to think about removing the glittery toenail polish first.

Just a suggestion from those who care.

Again, this story in no way reflects the lives of Sally Jesse Raphael and Queery McHetero.

Actual names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Not that they would ever see this anyway, but just in case:

You're sweet kids.

Sweet, intelligent kids.

Sweet, intelligent, fun-loving kids.

Sweet, intelligent, fun-loving, clearly gay kids.

And anyone who might take offense at something I say on this blog is retarded.

******************************

Gamma:

This next, and thankfully brief, story totally falls under the category of way-TMI, but I'm curious to know if this happens to anyone else, or what it might mean:

Do you ever get a phone call from someone, and within minutes or even seconds of initial conversation with this person, you absolutely must take a crap?

I don't know what this means, but every time I talk to certain people on the telephone, I always have to go potty. Always. Without fail.

It doesn't happen in person, only on the phone.

There must be some meaning behind this.

I don't have the foggiest idea what it is, but at the very least I know that if I ever have regularity issues, I know who to call!

That's gross, I know, but whatever.

You can't know if you don't ask, right?

This Just In...

Dazed, Nude Man Hospitalized After Mind-Blowing Gillette Mach 3 Experience

All Worked Up and Ready to Blog

I left this comment on RNG's blog, but as it frequently happens, I found it blogworthy for myself.
Get ready.
Random Redundant Tirade begins in:
3...
2...
1...
GO!
RNG said, "I didn't intend to imply that the people who fled from Hurricane Katrina were jerks if they left their pets behind."
Okay.
I'll imply it for you.
In fact, I'll just come right out and say it:
People who fled from Hurricane Katrina were jerks if they left their pets behind.

And I'll take it one step further and say that they are bloody assholes is what they are.

There is no acceptable excuse.
These people brought these pets into their lives.
If they don't have the means or enough responsibility to properly care for these poor, defenseless creatures when disaster strikes, then they shouldn't be allowed to care for them under normal circumstances.
Would they leave a two-year-old child behind?
No?
Then what's the difference?
Nothing!
It's EXACTLY the same thing.
"Well, we knew it was time for us to go, but we didn't have room in the car after saving our flat-screen, the computer, the paintings, and other valuables; so we just left the twins behind. Timmy and Kimmy are still infants, but I'm sure their instincts will kick in. Besides, they have each other. They'll be okay. We left a rattle, two bottles, and a couple of diapers. I'm sure they'll figure out how to change themselves."

Screw you jerkies who left your pets.

Save the pets! Leave the kids!
Save the pets! Leave the kids!

Think about it...
The kids will just grow up to be mouthy and disrespectful to their elders anyway, while the pets would just follow you around with undying devotion for the rest of their lives.

Save the pets! Leave the kids!
Save the pets! Leave the kids!

You're clearly a bad parent, so the kids will probably drop out of high school, get pregnant at 13, turn to drug dealing and prostitution to support their crack habits, get arrested, spend years in prison, or find some other way to be completely unproductive members of society; whereas the pets are less ill-affected by your irresponsibility and complete lack of compassion.

Save the pets! Leave the kids!
Save the pets! Leave the kids!

If the kids manage to survive, the struggle will only serve to fortify their characters and make them heartier individuals anyway.
Like they say: "That which does not kill us, didn't try hard enough."

If you look at it that way, you'd be doing them a favor.
Just a thought...

Save the pets! Leave the kids!
Save the pets! Leave the kids!

This public service announcement brought to you by TM and the Cracklin'-Fires-o'-Hades Productions.

Homo's Odyssey, Part II: Vertical Walking

Continued from previous post.
Here's a picture of that slut, BART:
Fresh from our ride back downtown from the Castro, we hired a sherpa to guide us up Powell St., aka Mt. Everest Juinor.
I showed Steven my old layover hotel, the Villa Florence, and the diner where I used to go for breakfasts, Lori's Diner, which is a neato themed diner featuring all-things 50s.
Then we headed up.
Once at the top, or is it the peak?, we got a bird's-eye view of the TransAmerica building:
And here's a great shot "down" the street, quite literally, with one of the spans of the Bay Bridge visible between the skyscrapers:
We made it down the other side, only to walk straight up again to the Coit Tower.
(from the website)
The tower was built in 1933 with funds from Lillie Hitchcock Coit, philanthropist and admirer of the fire fighters of the 1906 earthquake fire. She left funds to the city for its beautification. Those funds were used for the construction of the 210 ft. tall art deco tower at the top of Telegraph Hill. The towerÂ’s design is reminiscent of a fire hose nozzle and was quite controversial.
You know me! Lover of all things controversial...
...and phallic.

There were beautiful sweeping vistas of the entire city, with great views of Alcatraz, the Bay Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, the TransAmerica building, Fisherman's Wharf, and even Lombard Street.
After heading down the hill from the tower we decided to head over to Lombard Street.
On foot.
Down another ginormous hill, and up yet another one, because the famous "crooked" part of Lombard Street is at the very top of a huge hill.
We made it!
Lombard Street
This one block stretch is known as "The Crookedest Street in the World."
As you can see, Steven was very excited to finally find something less straight than himself.

This is a good perspective on the crazy, crooked, winding road from the top of the hill, and you can see the Coit Tower off in the background, as well as the Bay Bridge behind that.

From here we headed back downhill towards Fort Mason Park to pick up a bus to carry us over to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Stay tuned for the next episode:
Stuart, a bridge, and excruciating pain.

Exactly What Kind of Fruit Are You?

And I'm not talking about Paul Lynde.
So here's the thing:
What's the deal with Fruit of the Loom?
Have you ever wondered about the fruit?
Check out the tag on your underwear...
I'll give you a moment.
Okay.
There's an apple.
That's obvious.
Then you see red grapes (the purple ones).
Not very original, but then there's white grapes (the green ones).
And what's below the apple?
yellow...grapes?
huh?
What the hell is that?
Then there are the commercials.
I don't really remember the old commercials from the 80s.
I would swear they used to have a banana and a green apple, but apparently they've been fired.
So now the "fruit guys" are a red apple, red grapes, white grapes, and some shriveled yellow thing.
What the hell is it?
Is it a retarded pineapple?
Is it some sort of decomposing squash?
Is a squash even a fruit?
Is it the raisin-version of the yellowy grapey thingy on the underwear tag?
Someone please enlighten me and tell me what sort of fruit this is that I'm getting from my loom.
Inquiring minds want to know.
All previous Internet searches have proved fruitless.
Pun intended.
Bonus points to the winner with the correct answer and not random speculation.

By the way, I finally finished doing those damn reverse-quiz things.
So scroll down and read my answers.
Sorry it took so long to respond, but I ended up going out of town on a random trip, so I'll be updating my travelogue later.
See below for the newest travelogue.

Homo's Odyssey, Part I: Kamikaze San Francisco Run

Picture it:
Orlando, Thursday, 15.Sep.2005.
It's just another sunny Thursday and I'm whiling away the hours at school.
On one break between classes, Steven tells me that he finagled his schedule around so that he would get assigned on a three day trip with a 24-hour layover in San Jose, California.
On my next break between classes, he tells me that he actually got the trip and I should go with him, so we could make a run up to San Francisco.
Okay!
So, I left in the middle of class, ran home, packed my bag, grabbed Steven, went back to school, took my test, and ran off to the airport.
That's how we do it.
Nothing like planning a trip at, literally, the very last second.
One of Steven's friends said once, "You guys are the richest poor people I know!"
That's hilariously funny, and absolutely true!
We travel all over the place because it's free.
Our trip cost less than $50. Total.
So anyway, we flew up to New York amidst a multitude of delays, but luckily Steven made it in time to work his flight.
We flew out to San Jose, went to the hotel, and went to sleep.
Friday, the fun begins.
We got up at 0600 hrs and had our free breakfast on the concierge level on the top floor of the hotel.
Good food, beautiful view of the mountains.
Then we hopped on the train up to San Francisco.
It was an hour-long ride on a neat double-decker train.
Neither of us had been on a double-decker train before, so of course we both had to be on top!
We made it into the city at about quarter to 9, and thus began our marathon of walking.
If only all the fun things to do in the city were on The Embarcadero, because The Embarcadero is literally the only flat street in the entire city.
In keeping with the frugal theme, we walked most of the city.
Bad idea.
Here's our first sight:
Look! It's a cable car!

Rice-a-roni,
The San Francisco treat!
*ding, ding*

San Francisco is home to the world's only cable car system -- the first built, the last to survive.

We didn't ride, though, because the lines were too long and the subway (called BART, short for Bay Area Rapid Transit) is faster and cheaper.

So then we hopped on BART and rode him hard and fast into the Castro District, aka Gaytown, USA.
Here is the world famous Castro Theatre.
Like any good gay theatre, they were running a Bette vs. Joan movie marathon featuring "Johnny Guitar," "In This Our Life," and of course, "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?"
There wasn't much else going on in the Castro at 0930 in the morning.
It's really just a bunch of bars, shops, diners, and restaurants, with rainbow flags on every street corner and on every streetlamp.
I guess the homos were still in bed sleeping off their hangovers from the night before.
There were a few brave souls up and about, and we did stop in a couple of the shops and bookstores to see what gay wares and gay merchandise San Francisco had to offer.
We tried to get a good look at Twin Peaks (of television fame, and the two tallest of the 40 hills comprising the city of San Francisco), which is adjacent to the Castro, but alas the fog had not yet burned off at this time of morning, so the view was not to be had.
From here we took advantage of that dirty whore BART for one more quickie, and by the time we were done riding him, we found ourselves back downtown.

That's it for tonight, dear children, but stay tuned for tomorrow's episode:
Commence Vertical Walking

Audioblogger Rules!

Yay!
Now I can share my audio joy with the rest of the world...
and so can the rest of you.
Just go to Audioblogger and register your blog.
Then you can make audio posts whenever the mood may strike.
I hope you enjoyed one of my favorite Ralph quotes from The Simpsons!

This was just a quick informational post before bed.

I promise I will answer everyone's little reverse-quiz-thingy tomorrow (everyone apparently meaning Mattress and RNG).

ZIUQ (Reverse-QUIZ)

Leave me a comment and I will respond to the following for you, about you, or something like that.
1. I’ll respond with a random thought I have about you.
2. I’ll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
(I don't want to wrestle, nor do I want jello, so I'm skipping #3.)
4. I’ll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or so we think.)
5. I’ll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I’ll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I’ll ask you something that I’ve always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your blog.

It's Called What-Butter?!?!

I should change the title of my blog from Uninspired Rants to Only Writes About Travels and Food.
I should, but I won't.
I will, however, dedicate this post to another new food product.
Apple Butter.
Who knew?
(Apparently, everyone but me...but hey, that's nothing new, is it?)
I'm so proud of myself for trying new things.
Steven and I had seen the apple butter at some point in our travels; he mentioned how much he liked it and how great it was to put on pancakes.
Then, while on our last and much-blogged-about trip, we came across apple butter on several occasions.
We opted to purchase the Grandfather Mountain Apple Butter, because it comes packaged in a neat little jar labeled with a picture of Grandfather Mountain and the Mile-High Swinging Suspension Bridge.
Finally, last week we actually had pancakes on two separate occasions and used the apple butter instead of the standard maple syrup and butter.
It was delicious, I'm sure, but you can't tell me that apple butter and apple sauce aren't the same thing.
Just because someone decided to throw some molasses in it and make it a little darker and thicker in consistency, it still tastes the same.
It's still just apples in baby-food form, no matter how you stick it in a blender and slap another label on it.
But it is super-yummy on pancakes.
Mmmm...baby-food pancakes.
So, okay. If you can make butter out of milk, peanuts, and apples, why can't we make butter out of the good stuff: chocolate?
"What would you like on your bagel, sir?"
"Chocolate butter, please...Thank you."
I think I'm going to invent that.
Chocolate butter™®©11.Sep.2005
Patent pending.
If you steal it, I'll sue!

Random Unrelated Topic:
Check out this fun stress reliever! Poke Me

Gullible's Travels Bonus: Deleted Scenes

These are the pictures that we took on our trip that didn't make it past the cutting room floor during editing, but I thought that they were still noteworthy.

Let's start from birth:

My birth was a long, arduous process.
That shell was tough to crack through.

As you can see, I made it out just in time, while the dinosaur behind me was eating my twin.

It was all very sad, but a shining example of survival of the fittest.



Thanks to David for getting this picture scanned.

While not part of our trip, I wanted to show everyone what I looked like as a toddler.

I was 3 here.

As I got older, thankfully, I lost all of that baby-muscle.






Isn't that a Scream?








I think it stinks.

"I just hate you and your ass face!"

Bonus points if you can guess what movie that quote came from.

So all of these pictures, with the exception of toddler-me, were taken at the Haunted Monster Museum/Dinosaur Kingdom.



This is a dead rhinoceros beetle that we found outside the Wax Museum.
I've never seen one alive that I can recall.
It was huge!
Did you know...
the rhinoceros beetle can carry 850 times its own weight?
Proportionally, it's the strongest creature on Earth.
Neat.

So this was an Arbor Vitae tree.
This more than 1600 year old specimen of the Arbor Vitae tree was the oldest and largest known in the world. It's diameter measures 56 inches. Depending on climatic conditions that determine its growth rate, the arbor vitae increases in diameter about one inch every 30 years. Native Americans use the foliage as a source of Vitamin C to prevent scurvy.
Neat, except that this tree died in 1980.
They've been using a tree that has been dead for 25 years as an attraction on the path to the Natural Bridge.


Blacklight fun at the Mystery Hill Museum in Blowing Rock, NC.

This is my impersonation of Pink Floyd's The Wall.







Hi! I'm the lost member of Wham! in the "Jitterbug" video.





Inside this little cave is the Lost River. You can see it and hear it, but all attempts to discover its source or its final destination have proved unsuccessful.
So here we are at the mystery river.

Here's me with my brother's precious doggies, Nasha and Timber.

Poor Timber has issues with some torn tendons in his back legs. He was in a lot of pain.
He's the one on the right who looks all sad and hurt.


These are the Grandfather Mountain Otters.
They were eating their lunch of severed fish heads.
We named them.
The one in back on the right is TM Otter because he ate like food was going out of style and was the first one done eating, and then he went around harassing the other otters trying to steal their food.
The one in the foreground is Steven Otter, because he took the longest to eat and wasted all the other otters' time while they were waiting for him to finish so they could all play together, and TM Otter was particularly chasing after his food and trying to steal it from him.
And because I also speak otterese, here's what they said:
TM Otter: You're taking too long to eat. We want to play. Give me that food, I'll eat it for you.
Steven Otter: Fuck off. I can eat it myself.
TM Otter: Hurry!! Faster!! *sigh* You're taking too LONG!!
TM Otter did not get the food from Steven Otter, but he did make Steven Otter eat faster, so then they all went and frolicked in the water, and they all lived happily ever after.

LOOK!! Another lie:

"You are on the most rugged mountain in Eastern America; be careful!"
Bullshit!
THE most rugged mountain?
Says who?
I'd bet that Mt. Washington (in NH), and Mt. Mitchell (also in NC) would beg to differ, along with probably a dozen others.
Lying bastards.

Okay. That was the last picture that I'll be posting for a while. I promise.

Labor Day QUIZ Fun

WARNING!
Danger, Will Robinson!
The following is quiz-related information.
If you are uninterested in reading the information, please stop now.
This is not a test.
Thank you.

10 years ago:
I was a sophomore in my first year at Florida State University. I was a double major in music and meteorology, but at this point I was getting the prerequisites out of the way and mostly concentrating on music. My principal instrument was the tuba. I was playing the tuba in the Marching Chiefs, a brass quintet, and one of the symphonic bands. I was playing the soprano saxophone in Salsa Florida, and the trumpet in the Campus Band. So basically I was playing upwards of 4 hours a day. Screw homework. But hey, now I've got the lung capacity of a blue whale. I was almost a year into my relationship with Melinda, so I was obviously not out to the world at this point. I had only left skating a few months before. At 6'2" I weighed about 145-150 pounds and was subsisting on saltines, peanut butter, and about 2 gallons of water a day in my quick downward drop to my bottom-out weight of 135.

5 years ago:
I had just finished my first month in my new career as a flight attendant. Because it's totally related to music and meteorology! Needless to say, I didn't graduate from FSU, I left after 3½ years, went and worked as a legislative assistant for a couple of years, and then got a job as a flight attendant with the specific intent of moving to Orlando. Mission: Accomplished, eventually. After getting on a healthy diet and spending the better part of a year and a half working out 3 hrs/day, 7 days/week, I weighed 195-200 pounds, still 15 pounds shy of my target weight of 210. I was between husband #1 and #2, in a brief period of solitude.

1 year ago:
I was flying again after a 1-year furlough, during which I went back to school to study stenography at the Stenotype Institute. Steven (husband #3) and I had been together for about 6 months at this point, and had already started our frequent and random travels. I was starting my 2nd year in the Orlando Gay Chorus. I accidentally surpassed my target weight and ballooned up to a nice, porky 240 pounds, which I prefer to blame on Steven for feeding me ice cream at one a.m. practically every night right before bed, and not on my lazy ass not working out.

Yesterday:
Saturday of Labor Day weekend, most of the day was pretty low-key. Went to the Enzian to see "The Aristocrats" with David, Miller, and Miller's friend Donnie. Freakin' hilarious movie. Wendy Liebman still holds the prize, in my book, of one of the funniest interpretations of the infamous "Aristocrats" joke. She is one of my favorite comediennes. Check out Wendy Liebman's blog here, which also contains links to her webpage.
In life, I'm still in school speed-building my way through stenography, currently up to 100 wpm, truckin' along to that graduating speed of 225. Steven and I have been together for a year and a half, living together for a year, and traveling randomly and frequently. I've been maintaining my current porkiness at about 230-235 pounds.

5 snacks I enjoy:
I like anything chocolatey, anything bready, anything ice creamy, anything cakey, and anything dairy.

5 songs I know all the words to:
I know all the words to every song I sing, so that's somewhere in the vicinity of the mid-hundred thousands. I won't bother listing them.

5 things I would do with $100 million dollars:
buy a couple of big houses/lofts in my favorite cities (Miami, NYC, Orlando, etc.), buy my parents a big house wherever they want to live, fund my own personal music production company, travel around the world, and buy my way into the hearts and minds of the people.

5 places I would run away to:
name a tropical island paradise and I'm there.

5 things I would never wear:
umm...I don't know. I'm not sure there's anything I wouldn't wear for the right price or the right dare.

5 favorite TV shows:
Simpsons, Family Guy, Mad TV, Saturday Night Live, all reality shows.

5 biggest joys:
Steven, music, movies, my kitties, traveling.

5 favorite toys:
iPod mini, my old MINI Cooper, anything else with the word mini in it (I don't know, I don't really care about toys.), DVR? is that a toy?