Why I'm here
OK- This all started with my young and beautiful spouse, the dollimama, creating a blogpot for not only herself, but one for Tin Huey, reachable through the Hueys site. She, in her announcement of this on her blog, implied that I, H. Harvey, could and would now blog away, now seen as joining all you rumpled literati in blogovalia.
As this wasn't my intention, I had to announce this, and did so as a commentary on her site. I'll reprint here as explanation:
Ok, first, I'm not planning on making the Official Tin Huey Bulletin Bored Blog my own private 'Dear Diary.' For one thing, it'll make managing the hundreds of thousands of visits from fans and such, over the next month alone, completely unmanagable.
Second, I have so little to say... at least anything that deserves to be memorialized in this fashion, why would I?
Besides, now that my sweet slimjim has her own blog, I can just Rattle and Hum on her time, whether it's worthwhile or not, alienating everyone and inviting disaster in my domestic life.
So hopefully I have corrected any bated breath expectations of my soul opening up before you at the Hueys Bored Board, unless properly baited, of course, and now offer up a couple of other notes.
First, this has been a great Sunday. Sometime in the early hours of today, while watching every Extra Feature available on the "Hustle and Flow" dvd, a really decent and smart film (especially for MTV Productions) with GREAT performances from at least two actors, thus most definitely worth watching and listening to- time altered on our own personal atomic clock , courtesy of Adelphia Cable, and the lights finally went off in our room at 4AM.
At about 6:30A I awoke to discover that once again, pulling the covers up to my face allowed the sweet smelling 3" coating of dog fur to send me into a resperatory panic. Let me here acknowledge that we have now crossed into the world of elderly folks who worry their kids sick, based almost exclusively on sacrificing hygiene for the love of something warm without thumbs, batteries, or a smart assed mouth.They don't sleep with us,mind you, but we HAVE decided to spend every waking (and napping, to be fair) hour of our lives at home now in bed with the dogs on it.
I responded to this choking by fetching a glass to prepare the Passover Airborn with the unleavened Chloraseptic Chaser.
As I padded pathetically into the kitchen to collect said glass, I couldn't help but notice what was a very early start for the Robin (a mid season replacement, it appears, for the Cardinal that preceded him), a male, with, according to my crack team of Susan Aylward, Audobon Librarian,a mating season 500 times normal amount of testosterone seething through his crazy assed birdbrained system, choosing to, in lieu of the pleasures of procreation itself... the point of all this joyous chemistry of nature (hence cementing the "bird brain" bigotry thing), attacking what appeared to be his mating nemesis in the guise of my dining room window.
Tap-thud...Tap-thud...Tap-thud...
Tap-thud...
This just ended 5 minutes before I started this entry. So, appearing that he would change his perch to accomodate the moving sun and it's attendant reflections in order to continue attacking his alternate universe self for a full 12 hours non stop, my conclusion can only be that if you have a choice, it's better to be captured and tortured by Cardinals than those crazed, insane Robins, clearly the more capable of our lovely northern Ohio bird species to carry out a proper Jihad.
When I'm done I'll go out and see if his punch drunk hulk is rolling around under the window... but I think not.
Having just interrupted this to let Eddie and Debbie in from the wilds, apparently out digging coal from the abandoned mine on our property, evident by the contents of Edweirdo's mouth discovered by D-Mom upon re-entry, I've completely lost whatever else it was I might have had to say. Inertia is a bitch...
So I'll leave my virgin blog entry as one written by a man who is clearly on the downhill side of... probably everything, and leave it with the movie recommendation, the cute Robin story, emblematic of my blatant invasion of the space my poor meek wife has carved out in a now somewhat sullied attempt to spread her wings, and go see if I can generate some sort of poop (or at least massive butt gas) story for later- seeya -----
aw shit! If I want to post, I have to do some stuff, and I did, and now I have my own blog!!!Wait! Now I see I didn't have to do that! It was my ego not wanting to post as 'anonymous' that cursed me. Arghhhhh!
As this wasn't my intention, I had to announce this, and did so as a commentary on her site. I'll reprint here as explanation:
Ok, first, I'm not planning on making the Official Tin Huey Bulletin Bored Blog my own private 'Dear Diary.' For one thing, it'll make managing the hundreds of thousands of visits from fans and such, over the next month alone, completely unmanagable.
Second, I have so little to say... at least anything that deserves to be memorialized in this fashion, why would I?
Besides, now that my sweet slimjim has her own blog, I can just Rattle and Hum on her time, whether it's worthwhile or not, alienating everyone and inviting disaster in my domestic life.
So hopefully I have corrected any bated breath expectations of my soul opening up before you at the Hueys Bored Board, unless properly baited, of course, and now offer up a couple of other notes.
First, this has been a great Sunday. Sometime in the early hours of today, while watching every Extra Feature available on the "Hustle and Flow" dvd, a really decent and smart film (especially for MTV Productions) with GREAT performances from at least two actors, thus most definitely worth watching and listening to- time altered on our own personal atomic clock , courtesy of Adelphia Cable, and the lights finally went off in our room at 4AM.
At about 6:30A I awoke to discover that once again, pulling the covers up to my face allowed the sweet smelling 3" coating of dog fur to send me into a resperatory panic. Let me here acknowledge that we have now crossed into the world of elderly folks who worry their kids sick, based almost exclusively on sacrificing hygiene for the love of something warm without thumbs, batteries, or a smart assed mouth.They don't sleep with us,mind you, but we HAVE decided to spend every waking (and napping, to be fair) hour of our lives at home now in bed with the dogs on it.
I responded to this choking by fetching a glass to prepare the Passover Airborn with the unleavened Chloraseptic Chaser.
As I padded pathetically into the kitchen to collect said glass, I couldn't help but notice what was a very early start for the Robin (a mid season replacement, it appears, for the Cardinal that preceded him), a male, with, according to my crack team of Susan Aylward, Audobon Librarian,a mating season 500 times normal amount of testosterone seething through his crazy assed birdbrained system, choosing to, in lieu of the pleasures of procreation itself... the point of all this joyous chemistry of nature (hence cementing the "bird brain" bigotry thing), attacking what appeared to be his mating nemesis in the guise of my dining room window.
Tap-thud...Tap-thud...Tap-thud...
Tap-thud...
This just ended 5 minutes before I started this entry. So, appearing that he would change his perch to accomodate the moving sun and it's attendant reflections in order to continue attacking his alternate universe self for a full 12 hours non stop, my conclusion can only be that if you have a choice, it's better to be captured and tortured by Cardinals than those crazed, insane Robins, clearly the more capable of our lovely northern Ohio bird species to carry out a proper Jihad.
When I'm done I'll go out and see if his punch drunk hulk is rolling around under the window... but I think not.
Having just interrupted this to let Eddie and Debbie in from the wilds, apparently out digging coal from the abandoned mine on our property, evident by the contents of Edweirdo's mouth discovered by D-Mom upon re-entry, I've completely lost whatever else it was I might have had to say. Inertia is a bitch...
So I'll leave my virgin blog entry as one written by a man who is clearly on the downhill side of... probably everything, and leave it with the movie recommendation, the cute Robin story, emblematic of my blatant invasion of the space my poor meek wife has carved out in a now somewhat sullied attempt to spread her wings, and go see if I can generate some sort of poop (or at least massive butt gas) story for later- seeya -----
aw shit! If I want to post, I have to do some stuff, and I did, and now I have my own blog!!!Wait! Now I see I didn't have to do that! It was my ego not wanting to post as 'anonymous' that cursed me. Arghhhhh!
posted by H. Harvey at 8:23 PM
3 Comments:
welcome welcome welcome! i'm so happy you're here! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Aw Harv..I love Gene Pitney...used to get 45's from my Uncle Fred's bar, The Backbar in the falls, he'd give me the old ones and I played them on this record player in a suitcase. Played my first Beatles 45 on it. Yeah Gene was great. Thanks Gene. And, by the way..this the first picture I'm seeing of Dolli. ADORABLE.can't wait to meet her. I look in her face and I see you. Love, Beth Ellen
Welcome to Hades. Great medium huh? Sarcasm doesn't translate well in text. I must remind myself to remember that.
NP
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