The Minor Fall, the Major Lift offers a really sweet take on New Orleans. You should read that blog more often.
A podcast about books, art & life — not necessarily in that order
The Minor Fall, the Major Lift offers a really sweet take on New Orleans. You should read that blog more often.
Fortunately, we weren’t planning to have our wedding in the Superdome.
The official VM fiancee and I have been watching the weather reports all day long, since her family lives in the New Orleans area (they evacuated on Satuday) and we’ll be having our wedding down there next spring.
Our two lighthearted moments occurred when
a) she said, “We’re not paying the second installment of our deposit to the wedding hall till we know if it’s still standing,” and
b) when the news reports said that 20,000 to 30,000 people will be holed up in the Superdome, I said, “But how will they know if it can hold that many people?”
Let’s hope the cholera outbreaks die down by the time we go visit her family in October.
New Carnival of NJ Bloggers is posted!
Innovatively, this week’s host, PDC Ryan of Montclair, NJ, formatted this week’s entry out of a google map. So, if you go to the northernmost entry on the map, you’ll find my little entry about the nice Hasidic guy who helped me out last week.
Go check out some other NJ-based bloggers!
There’ll be a reality show about a woman looking for a sperm donor. It’ll be up against one about former prostitutes trying to open a cafe, according to the story. I don’t have any joke here.
I’ve been known to goof pretty fiercely on my black-hatted brethren. Why, just today at lunch, I launched into a tirade about religious fundamentalists of all faiths, in response to my boss’s queries about the Gaza Strip. I even tossed out my standard line about how there seems to be some part of the Torah that says people are supposed to dress like it’s 1862 Poland.
That said, when I was stopping at gas station after gas station this evening looking for a can of gas for my dad’s stalled-out car, it was a young Hasidic man who walked up to me and said, “I have a can in my car that; why don’t you take that?”
He opened his trunk, handed me a nice, plastic two-gallon container, and told me, “I don’t need it; just take it.”
“That’s quite a mitzvah,” I said. “You have yourself a good shabbat tomorrow night, sir.”
Then he got into his car, which appeared to be from 1962 Detroit, and headed off to (in all likelihood) Spring Valley, NY.
So, when you hear/read me excoriating religious zealots in future, I guess you oughtta think to yourself, “What a goddamn ingrate this guy is…”
Like I have a point.
I enjoyed this story about an this international smuggling-ring bust because it centered around two undercover FBI agents who organized a fake wedding:
[T]he bride and groom were actually undercover FBI agents who worked with the accused smugglers for several years, said Christopher J. Christie, the U.S. attorney in New Jersey.“Invitations were sent out, a date was given and RSVPs were received from different points around the world,” Christie said at a Justice Department news conference.
For some reason, I’m getting a Mr. & Mrs. Smith vibe off of this story.
I mean, the official VM fiancee & I have gone over our guest list a bunch of times, and figuring out co-workers to invite has been a problem. I can’t imagine how tough it would’ve been for our two undercover agents to put together a plausible list: “Gosh, honey, if we invite the kingpin, then we REALLY need to invite those two foot-soldiers we met at the pier. . .”
VM reader JK sent a link to JibJab’s rap-cartoon about Matzoh. Enjoy (and sit through the bewildering ad at the beginning).
I had an MRI in 1991 after I blew out my knee playing hoops. I don’t remember any office furniture flying through the air but, according to the NYTimes, there’s an epidemic of accidents caused by the strong magnets in the equipment.
The story sounds fine, but the pictures they posted with it (courtesy of Dr. Moriel NessAvier, who has a website on MRI safety) make me think it’s a hoax.
As the official VM fiancee put it, “Mr. Smith, I’ve found the problem. You seem to have an office chair wedged between your ass cheeks.”
Dr. NessAvier has more pix of flying stuff!
Evidently, the NYTimes is developing a dirty sense of humor, as evidenced by this opening line from an article about gay sex & AIDS: “The conversation over tossed salad, dinner rolls and iced tea was about dating.”
I didn’t see any “man-in-the-street” quotes from anyone named Dirty Sanchez.