Jeremiah's School of Levitation
Friday, December 29, 2006
The Jeremiah Journeys
This has been a humbling, and slightly sad holiday year for me, due to job insecurity. I'm used to taking the whole last part of December off, through New Years, to travel with my family to go visit my folks, go to Did-neyland, or even to someplace tropical, like Tijuana. But, this year, I stayed home, worked a lot, and got holiday greetings from my friends who got to go to tropical places and officially licensed theme parks.
But, I've got an idea for some cheap, fun travel. I was thinking, to start the journey, I take a photo of myself smiling so big that my lips meet at the back of my head, and send it to an out-of-state friend. I instruct that friend to prop my portrait up near some famous tourist landmark in their town, and take a photo of MY portrait at that famous landmark. The landmark should be clearly seen, so, for instance, if my friend is in Miami, it has to be obvious it's Miami because you can clearly see a mugging going on in the background, with South Beach art deco hotels as a backdrop.
Then, I'd tell my friend to send me the photo that they took, and then send my portrait to another friend of theirs, and tell them to repeat the process--prop me up near a landmark, shoot me, email me the resulting shot, send my portrait to one of thier out-of-state friends, and tell them to repeat the process. And so on, and so on...
I'm sure that there will always be a place for my portrait to go, and I will collect numerous photos of me in exotic to frightening locales. And, as I "travel", I'm sure my photo will get progressively more mangled, giving me that "weary world traveller" look that I usually get anyway after two weeks on the road with kids.
My compensation to the myriad photographers will be that I will publish a blog called The Jeremiah Journeys where I will post the photos, credit the photographer, and even include whatever words the photographer wanted to say about the shot, me, or my goofy ideas.
Who knows where I'll end up? Maybe back where I started, all wrinkled, torn at the edges, smeared with who-knows-what, and smelling a little funny, but still grinning like I had toothpicks lodged in my gums.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Present and Accounted For
All is well, and I hope you all had a holiday and that no one flipped the turkey off the table because Uncle Redd "said something."
Friday, December 08, 2006
Yeah, it seemed that this passenger was having some gastric disturbances and then apparently, in desperation, repeated a previous, failed, terrorist attack by lighting several matches. Her reason, though, was to conceal the odor of her fart. Passengers reported it (the odor of flame, not the odor of fart, which apparently was successfully concealed), and the pilots landed the plane accordingly. Upon landing, they expelled the passenger (no pun intended).
I'd think there would be other alternatives, since, and you are with me here, don't deny, I've cut a few on a plane before. You either do it in the bathroom, or position that little mini air spout above you in a strategic direction so that it blows the air from you to the baby sitting in front of you. Problem solved.
Well, the passenger didn't opt for that, so, I was thinking, after laughing for a while, that, especially for the guys out there, this is a serious call to action because, it seems, the bar on Competition Farting has now been officially raised. No more will under-the-bedcovers or inside-a-full-car farting be the ultimate expression of guy-ish-ness. Now, apparently, a fart has brought down a plane. Personally, as an official guy, I'm not sure how we can top that one. I mean, we've now got to aim for, like, clearing the Super Bowl stadium with a fart, or, I don't know, ruining next year's wine grapes with a well-placed poot so that we have no vintage from 2006. I'm open to suggestions.
However, because lighting a match on a plane just to conceal a fart is just so incredibly dumb, I have to wonder if this actually wasn't a terrorist attack, just delivered by a low-rent, ghetto terrorist. How do we not know that this lady didn't actually plan this, and consumed large servings of beans, cabbage, and milk before boarding and then was really attempting to LIGHT her fart, thereby causing an explosion or at least a burst of disorienting flame? However primitive, this is virtually undetectable, and, if created within the right person, like maybe Rush Limbaugh, possibly lethal.
So, now we may have to alter our airline security policies. Passengers may now be required to fart into a fart-a-lizer tube that will then determine the gas levels present in their system. Should they be high enough to be dangerously flammable, the passenger will not be allowed to board the plane until their gaseous levels have fallen to federal standards.
Problem is, this may assure that half the guys who ride planes today will need to get used to Greyhound schedules, but, hey, national security is a priority. If you can fart on a plane, then the terrorists have won!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Absentee blogger. Guilty! I don't have much of an excuse except that I've been terribly busy. At this time of the year, I fall in a big hole and all of a sudden, I have half the time to do thrice the stuff. I can't even get out to the gym, so I feel like I've swollen to about 1200 pounds and would be mistaken for a volkswagen beetle if I was carrying some tires around.
But, really, just how busy was I? Was I just slacking off and am now trying to find some way to wriggle out of saying it? Maybe. You guess. Below are some things I might have been up to over the past week. You have to guess which ones are true! The fun, it just goes on!
I'll give you a hint--three are true. Have fun! Now!
Last week, Jeremiah was:
• Telling Denise Richards that she needs to stop calling me because, really, she missed me by about 14 years, 15 1/2 if you count how long I dated my wife, and I'm not up for those Hollywood Glitter-flash divorce/marriages and that, no, she can't even steal a kiss. You don't want me anyway. I'm a bad boy, I'm no good for you, I'll spend all your money on Dallas Cowboy tickets and electronic toys and, well, I'm real bad at cocktail party small talk, and I don't look good next to George Clooney. So, farewell to thee! But, before you go, could you sign about one hundred photos of you that I have in my closet? You're so sweet.
• Starting my next new position at the Big Giant Software Giant working for what may be the coolest product in the physical and quantum universe (as well as whatever universe LaToya Jackson lives in), and grinning so much that my smile may have to be surgically removed.
• Travelling back in time to tell one of my ex-girlfriends that her ending our year and a half relationship in one freaking night actually will be quite inconsequential in my future life and that, in fact, I'm breaking up with YOU! That reaction would have been a lot cooler than my real reaction, which was to start bawling like she had just wrenched my guts out with a hot pitchfork.
• Following the lead of my youngest as I strung Christmas lights all over my yard, tangling them in branches and leaves to create displays that will dazzle passersby in the night and will, sometime in January, cause me to have public tantrums as I try to untangle them from those same branches and leaves.
• When no one was looking, hugging the cat.
• Dancing around the house because the Cowboys beat the Giants, causing my family to huddle together in the living room, wide-eyed and whispering, hoping that daddy will, someday, be normal again.
• Taking a shower.