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Looking For Quacks In The Pavement

Author: Karel Kerezman

  • The Kerezmans Invade Cannon Beach

    Burning yet another vacation day I wouldn’t have been using for anything better anyway, I decided to join in on Wendi’s cunning plan to get the hell out of town for most of a day. We ended up bringing along her usual babysitting charge, Nzhone, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

    We packed up, hit the gas station, hit the store, then took off down the Sunset Highway for Cannon Beach. Just before we arrived we decided to stop off for another visit to the World’s Largest Sitka Spruce, or whatever.

    Okay, I like trees. But seriously, who travelled the globe, hiked through every forest, just to discover the largest available tree in a particular species? Wow. And I thought I was geeky.

    Anyway, we arrived at the beach, trekked out to the sand and surf and proceeded to enjoy the heck out of it all. The kids dug in the sand, we all got our feet wet, we snacked on occasion. At one point Wendi found a… small creature.

    No, I don’t know exactly what it was. I’m open to enlightenment, folks.

    After our lunch break (no, we didn’t eat that small creature) Haystack Rock became our destination. The kids had a blast climbing around in the tidepools. Alex even scrambled out on his own initiative to look at the sign on the rock. Good heavens, he really is a real boy. (At his age, I’d never have done anything like that. Astonishing.) The girls, of course, busied themselves with the age-old task of getting just as wet and muddy as humanly possible, and enlisting other small children as accomplices. I just took lots of pictures and made a fool of myself for posterity, among other useless acts of nonsense.

    Eventually we were all tuckered out, so we piled into the van and headed for home. Other than a traffic jam on the inbound Sunset that forced us to take a scenic route home, we encountered no problems. Except for the small matter of sunburn, that is. You see, while Wendi was making sure that everyone else was appropriately slathered with sunscreen, she forgot about preserving her own skin. (I had assumed she’d already done that, so I didn’t ask. Bad on me.) She’s going to be very, very uncomfortable over the next couple of (working) days. Ouch.

    And so here we are, back at home after a grand day at the beach. Oh, you wanted more pictures? Check just below.
    Coast Trip – July 2003

  • Do it for the bunnies.

    See that “sponsor me” link up there? Have you done as it asks yet? No? Well then.

    Remember, starting 6am Pacific time this Saturday morning I’ll be posting at least once every half hour for a solid twenty-four hours. That’s a minimum of forty-nine journal entries. However will I fill the time, you ask?

    I can think of one cute way to fill at least some of those entries. But I won’t do it for nothing. As things stand, I’ve garnered $118 in pledged donations to the World Wildlife Fund. I’m surprised and delighted at the giving nature of folks like Jenn, Wendi, Marty, Erin, and a handful of groovy folks from work who wished to remain anonymous.

    This has gone better than I expected, but I’d like to break $150 before we start on Saturday, and towards that end I offer…

    Cute, cuddly bunny rabbits.

    You read that correctly: Cute, cuddly bunny rabbits.

    The bunny we adopted recently turned out to be a Mama Bunny, so we have a passel of baby bunnies that are just cute as all get-out. I have a digital camera. I will take pictures of those bunnies for all you animal lovers out there, and post them here.

    But not until there’s more than $150 in sponsorships. That’s right, I’m holding the bunny pictures hostage. It’s up to you now, Oh Generous Readership. Do the right thing. Do it for the World Wildlife Fund. Do it for me. Above all, do it for the bunnies.

    Because every baby bunny should have 15 minutes of fame, don’t you think?
    Blogathon

  • Quoth the Homer, “D’oh Nevermore!”

    Found there, this:

    NEVER TO RISE AGAIN

    Please join with the thousands of people remembering a great icon. The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71. Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was never considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, even still he was a crusty old fellow, and was considered a roll model for millions.

    Doughboy was buried in a lightly-greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Buttersworth, Hungry Jack, Betty Crocker, The Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy, describing Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Towards the end it was thought he would rise again, but alas, he had reached his expiration date. Doughboy is survived by his wife, Play Dough,two children John and Jane Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart.

    The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.

    Ah, the things you find going through your referrer listings…

  • Moody. Ethereal. Pretty as all hell.

    Thanks to Jaymi for leading me to Misanthropia. I will be snagging some of those images for desktop wallpaper. Hell yes.

  • A change is as good as a rest.

    That’s right, I made a change today. Technically I made several changes, but only one… okay, only two of them are very noticeable.

    One, links are no longer boldfaced serif but instead sans-serif and, ah, green.

    Two, the date markers that delineate journal entries by, ah, date… they are larger.

    If you would like to suggest largerness, smallerness, darker- or lighter-greenness, or a specific hex value for the greenness, you are welcome to. And I’m welcome to ignore any and all suggestions, of course. But you never know, do you? Do you?

    (Update: Three. Three noticeable changes. Our main weapons are fear, surprise, an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope… oh wait. Nevermind that. Anyway, I also tweaked the journal entry titles a bit to make them stand out better. I like the way this page looks now. Hot damn.)

  • Now, Jon Stewart

    Thanks to Wendi for this great transcript of a Bill Moyers interview with the guy whose name is in the title of The Daily Show With Jon Stewart.
    Bill Moyers: Jon Stewart

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