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March 2008 - Chris Schuette

Lastday

March 28, 2008 | By | One Comment

Today is my last day at work. I planned to write something oh-so-damn-humorous by referencing “Lastday” in the 1976 film, Logan’s Run. Yeah, I gotta be honest here, I haven’t seen Logan’s Run in ages, and I’m pretty sure I would screw up a reference to it. I know, it’s a bit of 1970’s pop culture and I’m usually pretty good at that kind of thing.

All right; I’ll give it a shot. Um, let’s see: My crystal is glowing? No? OK, how ’bout, Michael York is picking me up and we’re stopping by Farrah Fawcett’s place to have fish and plankton and sea greens and protein from the sea? That sucked too? Well, the hell with it; I’ll just try to find some Sanctuary and work on my Peter Ustinov impersonation.

OK, hopefully you’re both still with me. As I stated, today is my last day at work. I’ve had this job for almost five years, so I’ve managed to get attached to the people I work with. It’ll be tough to leave that. They did get me a card though, so that was nice.

Going Away Card

But the best part about the last day of work? The big cookie…definitely the big cookie. What, there’s no cookie?

I knew these people hated me.

Easter Was Neato

March 25, 2008 | By | 3 Comments

Easter Sunday started off with a bit of a science experiment. OK, we retroactively called it a science experiment; we didn’t actually have a laboratory or beakers or…look, do you want to hear this or not? Indie & Bear like to have an egg with their dog food every once in awhile (hey, who doesn’t?) Well, since it was Easter, we let them split a hard-boiled egg. Suddenly, we remembered that Indie’s last couple of vomiting sessions followed the consumption of an egg. (We also realized that we never see Clark Kent and Superman at the same time. Hmmm…) Anyway, sure enough, a few minutes later Indie started heaving. Being a graduate of the University of Minnesota, I know heaving when I see it, so I knew this wasn’t going to end well. I hurried Indie outside just in time for the peristaltic funfest. She’s OK. I gave her some water, told her she’s a good girl and all is well.

Patty & I then went over to her folks’ place for lunch. We were running late because I needed to comb my hair and pick up my accordion. What, you don’t think I have an accordion? Have you read this blog? Trust me, THIS geek has an accordion. I love spending Easter with my family. Plus, I continued the time-honored tradition of biting the head off of Patty’s chocolate bunny when she’s not looking. (Why yes, I am 8 years old, why do you ask?) OK, I was just joking around and I did give her my untouched bunny in exchange, but I’m still gonna need a place to crash until this whole thing blows over.

Other than that, it was a good day to just relax and read the paper. Unfortunately, I read a rather disturbing story about a local cab driver who was stabbed by his 15 year-old passenger when she couldn’t pay the $22 cab fare. You can read the story here. Luckily the driver is going to be OK. According to the article, “The driver was stabbed with a kitchen knife in the neck, leg and buttocks.” At first I wondered how he got the buttock wound; then I realized that if someone is attacking me with a knife, at the very least, I’m farting on them.

A Phew Phriday Phindings

March 21, 2008 | By | No Comments

OK, I had a large light roast coffee with a shot of expresso…epspresszo…um, “wake-up juice,” so I just want to voice some random thoughts. By the way, the nice lady at my coffee shop called me a “mensch” this morning. I’m going to need several dictionaries and my conversation pants.

  • I’m working on a little side project that requires me to come up with 27 seconds of “baseball music.” That’s it, “baseball music.” That’s kinda vague, isn’t it? That’s a little like telling a drummer to “lay down a groove.” I’m keeping my fingers crossed that “baseball music” loosely translates into “something I wrote eight years ago,” but probably not. How much do you wanna bet I’ll be cycling through the “organ” patches on my keyboard? Take that one to the bank, people.
  • I’ve mentioned that I’m a part-time musician (Oh, I’m pretty sure I have.) Since I left the band last summer, I’m finding that I need contextual clarification whenever someone suggests I “keep on rocking.” I believe it’s still considered a compliment, but it may simply be a helpful suggestion in case I look like I’m tipping slightly. Just to be safe, I’ll “keep on rocking,” but I’ll stop if it starts to upset passersby. I might be over-thinking this.
  • Indie & Bear are not amused by the new snow we got this morning. Not even a little. Bear gave me his typical Will Smith-like, “Oh Hell no! You did NOT send me out into that snow!” I told him, “hey, if you don’t like it, you’re welcome to stay with a nice Arizona family. Oh, you don’t KNOW anyone in Arizona? Well, maybe you should calm down then. And I’m not a yutz!” Most of our conversations go that way.
  • I’m hankerin’ for a big ‘ol bag of mini-donuts. Seriously, I’ll give a “shout-out” (as the kids like to say) to anyone who can hook that up.
  • The local news rag had a big article featuring Ashlee Simpson yesterday. Apparently she has red hair now, or she bought a pantsuit, or something. Um, I can remember a time when getting caught lip-syncing on TV would have made someone, you know, go away.
  • Surprisingly, I’m finding that I need a haircut; take THAT, everyone who ever called me “Baldo McGillicuddy!” You know who you are, ya bastards! (Sorry. Coffee.)
  • Finally, I can no longer hide my disappointment that I’m rarely introduced as “The Step-Brother of Funk.”

There, I said it.

Run For Your Lives!

March 17, 2008 | By | One Comment

The News Monsters at our local newspaper have been kind enough to warn all good Minnesotans about the imminent arrival of “heart attack snow.”

Heart Attack Snow

Are they trying to scare the hell out of us? I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve never heard the term, “heart attack snow.” Not once! I’m not bringing my shovel anywhere near “heart attack snow.” I’m also on the lookout for “Acid Reflux Hail Stones,””Searing Migraine Hedge Overgrowth,””Incontinence Tornadoes,” and, “Sore Ankle Pick-Up-The-Damn Living Room.”

I get it. It’s heavy, wet snow, but I think we’ll be OK. It’s March! Stay inside and ignore it; it’ll be gone in two days.

Oh, and I didn’t link to the article, ’cause, you know…gimme a break. Sheesh!

Spitz Take

March 12, 2008 | By | No Comments

OK, I’ll get this over with:

Eliot Spitzer blah blah blah…prostitute…hypocrite…resignation…Gummi-Bears, blah bling blah. I can’t believe he let down the people of New York and…God, I’m bored already.

More importantly, I heard that Dawn Wells (Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island) was busted for possession…

…I’m sorry, what the hell did I just say? If you told me when I started writing a blog that I would ever begin a sentence that way, I would have thought you were nuts…and you probably are. I understand that she eventually pled guilty to a lesser charge, but I have to admit having a strange reaction when people like Dawn Wells wind up in the news for this sort of thing. I’m not necessarily shocked, but I can’t help but think, “Oh, Daaawwwn; what’re ya doin’? C’mon, cut that out, ya big goofball!” We don’t want to remember her like this: [singlepic=54,240,180,,]

We want to remember her like this: [singlepic=53,240,180,,]

Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about. I mean, it’s Mary Ann! She’s the nice one! I would have expected this kind of behavior from Ginger…definitely Mrs. Howell, but…sorry, sorry. I’m not angry; I’m just a little disappointed. I’ll never enjoy “Coconut Cream Pie Thursday” the same way again.

Perhaps the most depressing thing about this story is that the news articles have to point out that she is “one of the surviving cast members of Gilligan’s Island.”

Geez, we’re getting old. You, me, Hal Linden…all of us, getting old.

A Purposeful Grimace And A Terrible Sound

March 10, 2008 | By | 2 Comments

Walked in the door last night and saw this thing:

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Patty brought it home as a toy for Indie & Bear. Oh, and it sounds like this:

(Whatthe?)

You know, I work long days as a night watchman at the Minnesota Video Cassette Depository (Beta Division 3) and this is probably the last thing I need to hear and/or see when I walk through the door. On the other hand, Indie & Bear are even more freaked out by the sound than I am, so that’s kinda cool to watch. We don’t actually let them play with the toy, because we’d like it to survive for more than 10 seconds. Plus, like most of us, Bear has problems passing squeakers. We’re looking into it.

Patty has named this little scamp “Godzilla.” I gently pointed out that Godzilla was actually a large lizard-like creature, whereas this toy appears to be a representation of some type of monkey. I was quickly educated as to the irrelevance of these kinds of distinctions. I also concluded that a lot of my “helpful information” is neither “helpful,” nor is it “information;” The little guy is named “Godzilla,” and Godzilla help you if you suggest otherwise. Got it?

Damn right you do.

Bach To The Future

March 3, 2008 | By | No Comments

(I know that’s a terrible title. The polite thing would be to ignore it. Are we still cool? Thanks.)

Scientific American recently posted an article about some researchers in Berlin who digitally reconstructed the face of 17th-18th Century super-stud and musical genius, Johann Sebastian Bach (uh, no relation to that woman who played Daisy Duke or that tool from Skid Row.) Bach is the guy who wrote (among other things) “Toccata & Fugue in D Minor” (you’ve heard it in countless old horror movies) and “Air on a ‘G’ String” (no snickering from the Percussion section!) Oh, and he also fathered 20 kids. Dude!

According to the article, this is what Bach looked like when he wasn’t wearing his peruke (or “wig”)

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And of course, people would travel from miles around just to hear his famous catchphrase: “Diplomatic Immunity!

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I’m always fascinated by these kinds of stories (mostly because I don’t get out much.) It reminds us that these people weren’t just statues and portraits; they actually lived, breathed, and often smelled bad…just like most of us musicians today.

I’ll be in the shower.