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Posts Tagged ‘humor’

Go Crazy for Your Dreams. It’s All You, Baby.

December 3rd, 2009 2 comments

Love this song by Brett Dennen. Love the video, too. Having spent plenty of time dancing to the tune of the consumer organ grinder and countless hours that inexorably turn into days and weeks and so on and so forth–I can say that his song and video are deliciously poignant and gratifying. And heck, I even sold shoes once upon a time, so yes; in a crazy way, it makes complete sense. When you’re doing your dog and pony show, absurdity knows no boundaries.

René Magritte - Die Grosse Familie, 1947 (?)

René Magritte - Die Grosse Familie, 1947 (?)

One time at work, I had a customer ask me if we had ‘something for making pancakes,’ which, of course; we did. We had cute, animal-shaped pancake molds along with griddles, skillets, pancake mixes, syrup, recipe books and even pancake pens, which are these new, large, squeezy plastic bottle-thingies that you put your batter into, and it is cleverly designed to carefully squeeze the batter out into your cute, animal-shaped pancake mold so that it turns out adorably perfect and makes the job easy and fun. I showed him all of these things, but evidently he was looking for something like a circular-shaped mold. I tried to explain to him that when you put your batter in your skillet or on your griddle, it more or less naturally takes on that shape. For some reason, though, he wasn’t buying it. Perhaps he hadn’t yet tried making pancakes. At any rate, sometimes it just feels like you can’t win no matter what you say or do. But you can. You choose your battles, and live to dance another day.

Now, I do not condone or approve of bullying as a tactic or means to an end in any way shape or form, but it’s hard not to admire Vicky Pollard‘s unshakable self-confidence here, despite the hard evidence pointing to the notion that she is out of her league in this competition:

…Then again, there is the fact that once she has clearly lost the game, she resorts to bullying. *Sigh* Ahh, well.

GOT DREAMS? I do. Here’s one of mine: This site is going to become a show. How ’bout them apples? Interviews with great Creative Beasts from all over, and from all walks of life… and other wonderful stuff of an inspiring and mysterious nature.

I’m going to need a few things… eventually, a bigger staff, for example… maybe some cameras… and a film crew… and definitely some angels. That’s my tip of the iceberg list, which is actually a big tip to an even bigger iceberg. There will be much more to say to the right set of ears.

“Why are you sharing this, T-Haus?” you may ask. Well, I’ll tell you. Because I feel it’s important to state your mission and share your vision. And I aim to prove some things for the sake of all CreativeBeasts: 1) I am not entirely crazy. Slightly, yes. Entirely, no. 2) You can be from anywhere at all and still make your dreams come true. Even Milwaukee, WI (though I am originally from Seattle, WA… but that’s beside the point). 3) Cool and amazing things are happening all over the world. All around us, in fact. Today, in Milwaukee, for example, we had our first snow of the year. Pretty cool. 4) –This is the most important thing–it is not only OK to have dreams and to believe in them, it is GOOD! Go crazy for them, and may it serve you well. And hey–this is, after all, the season in which dreams (supposedly) come true. Keep right on dreaming, and all the best to you all.

I stumbled across this article, “Yes, I Can” Seven inspiring stories of people who proved the naysayers wrong. http://tinyurl.com/y96t5hv . Not bad.

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“This is MY table!”

July 22nd, 2009 3 comments
Fireworks at Festa Italiana:  worth fighting for... or at least to some people.

Fireworks: worth fighting for... at least to some people.

Last Sunday I went with some pals to Festa Italiana; a Milwaukee tradition I’ve come to love. It’s fun, kinda cheesy, and for the most part, completely American–well–okay… Italian-American. You’re bound to find performances by Frank Sinatra and Elvis impersonators, and other little known Las Vegas types. There’s The Golden Age of Opera Tent that holds a truly beautiful collection of rare recordings, old posters and photos that used to be run by Dominic Frinzi. He passed away in January of 2008, but his tradition and love of opera is carried on in the tent, and now on what is called “The Dominic H. Frinzi Memorial Stage.” Other than that, there are loads of choices where cheesy-cuisie (pizza) is concerned, and if you want other stuff like fried calamari, or fried eggplant, or fried mozzarella sticks, you’ll have luck with those, too. You’ll even find octopus salad… just don’t ask the gal at Pietro’s for pizza, like the guy who stood next to me in line. “We don’t serve that here; that’s American!” She barked. Although when I asked her if she knew where I could get some scungilli, she said she’d never heard of it. I used to always get it at Festa, but I couldn’t find it this time. If anyone knows who still serves it there, let me know. What I do know is that if there’s one thing you can bet on, that is that the firework displays are always, and without a doubt–awesome. With snacks in hand, my friends and I walked back to meet our group where they were reserving a spot for us on the rocks by Lake Michigan. However, since we had yet to eat, Francesca, Demitra and I stopped at a nearby picnic table to make life a little easier while we dined. A couple was already sitting there at the other end, though, and the woman said assertively, “We have people coming.”

Fran said, “Well, we’ll just eat, and then we’ll move when they get here.”

The woman said nothing, and neither did her husband, so we went on with our meals and conversation, when suddenly, there was a loud thud on the table. I looked over and the woman now had a brick in her hand. I thought she must have been mad about something, but I didn’t think it was us. Her people hadn’t come yet. But then she started muttering something about, “I gotta sit at this f***ing table for five hours, and I don’t get to walk around and have any fun!”

“I think she might be upset that we’re sitting here.” I said.

We all sat and looked at one another like, “What do we do?”

“Well, she’s got a brick, you guys,” I added. Then I turned to the gal. “Look, if it’s a problem for ya, we’ll move.”

“Yeah, it’s a problem! And go ahead and talk about me! I’ve only been holding this table for five hours!”

We collected our stuff and moved towards the rocks. “Have fun watching the fireworks,” I said as I got up. “Thanks for sharing the table.”

She glared at me with dagger-eyes, and said something like, “You can go to hell!”

My friends and I sat on the rocks and ate our various fried items and drank our beers. “I don’t know why she thought she had to sit for five hours,” Demitra said. “We got here an hour ago, and look at this great spot we got.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I mean it was pretty much her choice. Oh, well. I guess that’s why she carries that brick.” Soon thereafter, the fireworks started, and as always, they were awesome.

Afterwards, we got some gelato… spumoni for me. Also awesome. As the vendors packed up their supplies and said arrivederci until next year, I thought with a smile, “How in the heck can anybody be pissed off at Festa Italiana? Oh, well.”

A conch shell. Scungilli in Italian.

A conch shell. 'Scungilli' in Italian.

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Cleanse thyself with Virginity Soap.

June 11th, 2009 7 comments
Virginity Soap. For a clean that says "Spiritual."

Virginity Soap. For a clean that says "Spiritual."

There are cleanses, and then there are cleanses. Say hello to Virginity Soap, and goodbye to over-sized vaginas! How could we not have known about this?

Here’s the deal: My friend Liza’s mom, Kathy, currently resides in Oman, but she is in the States for a home visit. As thoughtful and generous as ever, she brought back this rare and precious gift that has until now, been missing from our lives: Virginity Soap. I know Middle Easterners are smart, but this is a magic that is simply unheard of… a soap that makes us girls like new–all over again! By the looks of things, this has been a well-kept secret for some time, over there. Now, we have the secret, too! You might be wondering what this has to do with creativity, and to that I say, “Everything.” First of all, anything to do with baby-making is creative by design, and second, what a clever ruse it was to come up with such an idea–a soap that makes you like a virgin… Uh-huh. And why would anyone need such a ridiculous load of snake oil–I mean, soap–in the first place? Well, in some parts of the world, women are led to believe that they have little to no value once they are no longer virgins, so naturally, someone recognized that there was a market for this sort of thing. ‘Tis a strange, strange world we live in.

My only question is: “Do you use it before or after?

Gently, now. Otherwise it might just close up, altogether.

Gently, now. Otherwise it might just close up, altogether.

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