JBot Mania

According to a quiz on HGTV’s web site for the show “Find Your Style”, my style is:

Rustic Comfort

The verdict is in, but there’s a twist. Your design style is a combination: part updated country, part ethnic flair, both with a contemporary look and feel. You need a home with casual and practical style – an environment that’ll work for kids, pets, company and more. The emphasis is on simple yet attractive, durable furniture will hold up over time while your colorful accessories energize and entertain for years.

“The furniture for this design style could be contemporary or traditional, says Julie Rackley, an interior designer in Bellevue, Washington. “The common threads are comfort and durability” That means easy-to-clean synthetic blends like micro-fiber, which cleans up swiftly with a sponge. (So long silk!) Function is a key consideration as well. A multi-purpose ottoman that doubles as a coffee table or storage unit would work for you.

I like the ottoman reference. I am all over that.

**UPDATE: Scheck out the comments to get the story straight from the source.

As you have seen from my sidebar, I have been reading “Why Do Catholics Do That?” It was a gift after repeated admissions and blatant examples of my ignorance of Catholicism. It’s not an “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” kind of thing, but rather a way for me to have a vaguely intelligent and informed conversation next time I feel the need to nit pick about something. And maybe with a little more knowledge will come more understanding. It’s not going to upend my feelings about religion. I’m not going to start regularly going to church, temple, or anything else, but I expect not to dismiss it. That’s a whole different conversation, however.

This conversation is about discipline. Read the rest of this entry »

HGTV has a swank and shiny little quiz to help you determine your design style by clicking on things like dogs, clam shells, and mixed drinks.

I tested at ‘eccentric’. I prefer ‘eclectic” but what’s a few letters amongst friends?

For you, it’s all about the mix. Any style is welcome in your world as long as it compliments something else. You’re drawn to funky interiors and eye-catching color combinations (think red and blue, orange and turquoise, purple and gold). You like contrasting patterns and unconventional architecture. You enjoy furnishings that remind you of your travels mixed with modern pieces and offbeat techniques.

I’ll admit, I have alot of addictions. Most of them are food related. Cake mix, crème brûlée, hibachi…

But that is just addiction—not fetish.

ad·dic·tion [uh-dik-shuhn]
-noun
1. the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

fet·ish [fet-ish, fee-tish]
–noun
1. an object regarded with awe as being the embodiment or habitation of a potent spirit or as having magical potency.

2. any object, idea, etc., eliciting unquestioning reverence, respect, or devotion: to make a fetish of high grades.

3. Psychology. any object or nongenital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.

So what is my fetish? Books. Books are my fetish. Not the act of reading books, but the books themselves. The physical book. The item that you hold. Every facet of their physical form is my fetish; typography, layout, binding, end pages, lead type, lithographs, deckled edges, wood carvings, gold leafing, Artists’ books, incanabula, gatherings, gallies, the depth of the impression of type…this is my fetish. This is my potent spirit, the object of my reverence and devotion, that which causes a habitual erotic response.

It only made sense then that I went to Smith College in the Pioneer Valley. On a recent trip back there I was able to see a small exhibition in the Neilson Library devoted solely to a bookbinder. The sheer excitement and glee with which I hovered over the collection and described to my guest some of the subtleties, made it clear that I have missed my book exploring years at Smith—the chance of finding a book in the stacks not taken out since 1921. As you’ll see from this wonderful and nostalgia producing NY Times article, I was in just the right place during those formative years: In the Valley of the Literate.

At Amherst Books, a local professor read from his new book on Chinese history at 5 p.m., while a children’s book author, also local, followed at 7:30, along with cider and pumpkin bread. Across the street at the Jones Library, a lecture on the graphic novel got under way at 7 p.m. At the same time, dealers were raising their bidding cards at an auction of rare and antiquarian books at the Hotel Northampton, 15 minutes away. Up the street at Smith College, several hundred students and community members gathered at 8 p.m. for a poetry reading, while the Broadside Bookshop sold books by the author at a table in the back of the hall.

All this on a Tuesday evening. The next day, a local paper listed 20 more author readings and book events coming up that week.

If you love books, here is the quintessential reason to go to Smith College… if you have a vajayjay, of course.

On another note and back to an addiction: here’s a hilarious 8 seconds of crème brûlée: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFhsgkseQEM

we’re gonna get hammered…

Alright, so I didn’t get hammered but I did go to a chapel. Well, a church, but it was for a glorious reason. Miss Jennifer got married! To whom? Why, Mr. Timothy, of course. Oh, my little Jennifer, all grown up.

What was the best part? Well, a very distant first would be Jen’s very kind words about me. I mean, I know I’m pretty spectacular but when someone else says it, it lends a bit of credence to it. Now, if only we could coordinate speaking more often than once every six months. We’re boys like that—boys with fantastic racks. Read the rest of this entry »

After settling into my unemployment only vaguely, I decided to turn in the ol’ change bucket and see what my years of throwing coinage into it had gotten me. Turns out, it was quite a bit. Read the rest of this entry »

If you haven’t heard, and most of you have, I’m currently unemployed. Under the guise of a mercy killing I was “let go” from my job. I’m thrilled to be free of that completely dysfunctional environment, but no one likes to be let go. “No no, it’s not you, it’s us.”

As I am looking through the job listings, a few things have become clear. Read the rest of this entry »

That’s life, that’s what all the people say.
You’re riding high in April,
Shot down in May
But I know I’m gonna change that tune,
When I’m back on top, back on top in June.

I said that’s life, and as funny as it may seem
Some people get their kicks,
Stompin’ on a dream
But I don’t let it, let it get me down,
‘Cause this fine ol’ world it keeps spinning around

I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,
A poet, a pawn and a king.
I’ve been up and down and over and out
And I know one thing:
Each time I find myself, flat on my face,
I pick myself up and get back in the race.

That’s life
I tell ya, I can’t deny it,
I thought of quitting baby,
But my heart just ain’t gonna buy it.
And if I didn’t think it was worth one single try,
I’d jump right on a big bird and then I’d fly

I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,
A poet, a pawn and a king.
I’ve been up and down and over and out
And I know one thing:
Each time I find myself laying flat on my face,
I just pick myself up and get back in the race

-Frank Sinatra “That’s Life”

As you know, I just returned from Walt Disney World this past Sunday. I’ll be posting more about it in upcoming days and weeks, but for now, I want to address a serious problem that seems to be going unchecked at WDW.

The problem: Ducks. Dirty, stinking, lazy ducks.

I have no problem with ducks, and that’s just my point. Ducks are reasonably smart. They can hunt for their own food. Occasionally they might not get out of the way of cars, say, my car, but all in all, ducks have alot to be proud of.

The ducks at WDW, they are the lesser of the duck specimens that you will find. In the great food chain that is WDW (and that apparently does not encompass pigeons), ducks have become the pigeons. They have become the bottom-feeding crackwhores of Disney. Why? How?

There’s a reason they say “Don’t Feed The Animals”. These castrated foul know nothing of fending for themselves. They just lallygag around the tables with their beaks open because that’s how they get food apparently.

I told many of them to “Get a job” or to “Stop bringing down your species. ” But no. None of them listened. They just stared blankly waiting for more food.

What has become of you ducks? You’re nothing but web-footed apes (and we guests—trousered). Next thing you know, the ducks will start a union and demand regular feedings or health care coverage.

and here’s a little hint