Wild Thing

I'm not a very big fan of Iggy Pop. In fact, I'm not a fan at all. In fact, I find it kind of painful to even look at him much less listen to him. I just keep wanting to fatten him up and have his hearing checked. Guess that means they're going to take me off the Iggy and the Stooges mailing list.

Anyway, I just popped over from The Smoking Gun (http://www.thesmokinggun.com) where I read the absolute best badn rider ever! You know, the big list of things that agents and managers put together for a performer, their band and entourage. Things that are long and boring and make those of us reading them say "Oh for the love of the Easter Bunny, just drink refrigerated soda like the rest of us and shut up, ya little spoiled brats." But Iggy and the Stooges not only have very few demands (they don't really seem to care about having only green and blue M&Ms in the dressing room and that sort of thing), it was actually written by the Roadie. And if you thought I went on stream of consciousness writing sometimes, you have GOT to read this guy. I'm pretty sure we must be related somewhere down the line. Even if you can't understand what a Saxophone Wedge is, it doesn't matter. This guy's funnier than...something really funny.

It's Never the Same

It all started some 12, 13 years ago with Tiny Toons. You know, all the Loony Tunes characters as precocious preschoolers. Coupled with the Animaniacs, it was must see afternoon TV - especially if you were 29, worked in a piano bar and had all your days free. It was cute. It was funny. It had lots of 'in' jokes.

Then came (in no particular or accurate order): Muppet Babies, Sesame Street Babies and countless other "babies" jumping on the bandwagon. There was even a 'reverse', if you will, of The Rugrats as teenagers. Yipes. And it was getting just a tad bit out of hand, I tell ya.

But nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could prepare me for what I stumbled across today in my quest for quality non-Noggin children's entertainment. That's right folks. Scooby Doo "Babies". Scobby Doo as a puppy, with all his pals as grade-schoolers. Fred is Freddie, Velma says "Jinkies" every time she's found a clue and pitches a temper tantrum if all don't notice (not unlike many adults). And if you had any hopes of seeing Shaggy in his pre-stoner days, I'm afraid you'd be sorely disappointed my friends. Even his voice is still Casey Casum. Was it more stupid than the old 'Scooby Doo Meets the Three Stooges" or "Scooby Doo Meets Laurel and Hardy"? Unequivocally, yes. Those were Hitchcock masterpieces compared to the little ditty I saw today. In fact, there was actually a reference to having forgotten the 'old' Scooby Snacks but Daphne remembered to bring a recipe for home-baked, "organic" Scooby Snacks.

Oh. My. God.

Evergreen

First, just let me say that six hours in a Daycare Center with 3 year olds at 42? What am I? Desperate? Oh, paying bills. Right.

One of the things I disliked about my house in Maine were the pine trees (yeah, yeah, Pine Tree State - so sue me). They weren't the really pretty Blue Spruce (or whatever) kind. They're the scraggly, thin ones whose needles turn brown and then fall off every autumn. And they did so on my car. In multitudes. I admit it bothered me to have the left side of my car coated in pine sap and the needles all over my back wiper, making it difficult to actually...wipe.

So, here I am, in my cute, airy little fourplex. The shower head leaks, the washing machine only works on hot water, the dishwasher only works on the Pots and Pans setting, and one of the burners on the stove doesn't work. The biggest one, of course. Making it a little challenging to cook with that big ol' 12 inch skillet on the little itty bitty electric burners. But I digress. It's new carpet, plenty of space and actually more storage than I had in my house! That's just wrong on so many levels.

And the other thing it has? A shared driveway and garage. Not that the garage can actually be used for anything but storage. These things were built before the days of SUVs. My neighbor could fit her Toyota in there, if the previous tenants hadn't left roomfuls of furniture in the garage. Which, if not cleared out soon, I'm gonna start claiming. So I park on the side that's designated and I'll be damned if today I wasn't digging scraggly brown pine needles from that depression right in front of the windshield and from under my windshield wipers. The only tree on the entire property and it's a frickin' pine tree just like the ones I left, right next to my car!

When people here ask me what Maine was like, I say "It was a lot like my driveway." Although there may be more moose here in Minnesota. And they talk funny, eh?