Monthly Archives: November 2005


At the risk of alienating my four remaining readers, I present the first ever “Phone Call With My Brother” post:

Brother: How’s the weather out there?

Scooterdeb: Are you kidding?

Brother: No, I’m asking you about the weather.

Scooterdeb: Ummm… it’s been terribly cold.

Brother: Really?

Scooterdeb: Heck, yes! This morning it was almost three below.

Brother: Three below zero?

Scooterdeb: No, three below the usual temperature of 68 degrees.

Brother: …

Scooterdeb: I was almost inclined to put on a light sweater.

Brother: Y’all are big babies out there!

Scooterdeb: Oh, man, today they put out a Severe Weather Warning Bulletin for tomorrow night.

Brother: What sort of severe weather?

Scooterdeb: They’re predicting *up to a half inch* of rain!

Brother: I’m hanging up now.



Scooterdeb: {picks a single hair from own sweater and gently places it on Marukan’s leg}

Marukan: Hey!

Car: {Idles gently at red light, unaware of potential for commotion in passenger compartment}

Marukan: {picks a single hair from own sweatshirt and gently places it on Scooterdeb’s leg}

Scooterdeb: {pretends not to notice}

Marukan: {picks another hair from own sweatshirt and gently places it on Scooterdeb’s leg}

Scooterdeb: Hey!

Marukan: Any further hair visited upon me shall be visited tenfold upon your leg.

Scooterdeb: …

Marukan: By God, sir, I will not abide another hair.


Marukan: My knees are scabby.

MS: Why are your knees scabby?

Brian: Scabby? Wasn’t he Scooby Doo’s friend?

Marukan: Because I fall down a lot.

MS: Maybe you have that disease like that guy had.

Brian: Do you have dropsy?

Marukan: I’m bleeding.

Brian: Do you have Tumpinson’s Disease?

Marukan: MSN says “Harry Potter on fire in the box office”.

MS: There’s no smoking in the cinema.

Brian: I didn’t even know what the name of the movie was until the title card came on the screen.

Me: What, the Goblet of Fire?

Brian: Not to be confused with the Irish movie, Harry Potter and the Gobshite of Fire.

Marukan: I’m still bleeding.

Brian: We have plasters.

Marukan: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Brian: I’ll get them for you before I throw up.

MS: Now I have that song stuck in my head.

LB: What, the one about the hillbilly collecting the flatmeat?

Me: Did you have the fish or the chicken?

Brian: Your post is spinning out of control. The control tower is going to have to talk you down. Look at the screen in front of you. Do you see a “Publish Post” button? Please press it now.


Sweet! After three straight years of trying, I’ve finally finished a National Novel Writing Month attempt!



It’s mad windy outside.


Moe: Do you have any new pictures on your Palm?

Me: I always have new pictures on my Palm. Here’s some from yesterday.

Moe: Who’s this?

Me: That’s my friend Brian.

Moe: Does he play guitar?

Me: Yes, he plays guitar. How could you tell from just a picture?

Moe: It’s the hair.

Me: OMG!! That’s what he’s been saying for years!

Moe: He should cut his hair before someone mistakes him for a beautiful woman.

Me: It’s too late for that.


Me: I just updated my NaNoWriMo word count.

Brian: What’s your word count?

Me: 30,019. They have a list of all the word counts so far that people have turned in. Los Angeles is fourth with 4.2 million words. But Maryland is first, with 5.3 million words. Maryland is small. How can an entire state have produced that many words?

Brian: Because there’s bugger all else to do there.

Me: …


For the Thanksgiving Holiday, I went with four close friends to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. We re-enacted the movie’s climactic duel scene while we waited for our food at Jerry’s Famous Deli.

These two crazy guys were sitting right across from me. The younger man kicked off his shoes and leaned over on the bench like he was laying on his couch at home. He was wearing shorts and kept opening and closing his legs, so that we’d all have a clear view of his personal business. The older man picked up the bottle of mustard, opened it, and then started eating from it. Later, when they’d finished their meal, the older man took the lid off the salt, and poured into the younger man’s glass of water. The younger man stirred up the water with his fork and then drank it. Throughout all this, the two never stopped talking to each other.

My Thanksgiving supper consisted of turkey & gravy, dressing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and something called “California Blend” that keeps showing up on my plate whenever the menu says there will be “steamed vegetables”.