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2009-08-17 - On Our Next Episode . . .

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Dear S &T #1: Thoraxian Skittle Camping

2005-10-06 - 5:46 p.m.

Eating Unusual Amounts Of: Hummus & Tuna Salad Finger Rolls (not at the same time)

Listening To: The Fiery Furnaces, The Shins, Manu Dibango, America

Quote:"You must know that Tim and I have always looked at you as the Krang to our Bebop and Rocksteady." - Peter

And now we return, after a more than brief hiatus, to another stirring enstallment of . . .

Dear Stuff & Things!!!

Ok, if we must get down to brass tacks, and I don't know of another kind of tack I'd like to get down to than a brass one, the truth is that there's never been an enstallment of "Dear Stuff & Things" before now. There was a relatively embryonic version a looooooong time ago. But that's neither here nor there. Well, I suppose it's rather there, but it's hardly here. Now, those brass tacks I was speaking of earlier? Let's get down to them, no?

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Dear Stuff & Things, Hi, I represent a group you may have heard of. We're known as the Church of Latter Day Saints: The Mormons. We make pizza for invalids. We prothelisize our asses all over Utah. And I believe we accosted you outside the The Brick House in Dover a week or so ago. Anyway, we just want to know if you've been praying to God about Joseph Smith lately, that's all! Also, is it true Mormons suck worse than earwigs?! Thanks! Virginal In Salt Lake City


Hi Virginal, thanks for writing your freaky caffiene hating ass in to ol' Stuff & Things. Well, yes I recall you verbally molesting me on Central Ave not a few weeks ago. I was on my way to meet the Sisters Eldridge & Co. I hadn't seen either of them in far too long. I know we spoke of British things, running, the Lusitania, and somewhat watched Monday Night Football on the biggest tv known to man. I enjoy the Brick House. I shall go back. Afterwards, Becca, Hannah, Richard (Hannah's British beau), brother Ben, and sis-in-law Caroline went over to the infamous Barley Pub. Despite being the subject of many commentaries on this site in the past - One of the more famous ones, being the Rich debacle, we had quite a time of it. I was struck by the fact that the jukebox played Weezer's "Tired of Sex" and Dylan's "Ballad of a Thin Man". Neither of which are bar standards. Also of note: A kid in a long black trench coat, from the Denver area, and a huge Broncos fan, slammed my fist against his (in some sort of Mountain Time Zone act of fealty) and exclaimed that I was a "royal soul". I'm not making this up. Ask any Eldridge you see, they'll comfirm! PLUS, that girl that reminds me of Kim from the Pixies that I kept surreptitiously running into over the summer, came in that night too! Very strange, that. But to answer your question, I'll quote my co-worker Chase on the subject after I shared with him that I was hornswaggled by some no good Mormons: "Mormons suck. Earwigs suck. The only thing that sucks more is Earwigs . . . that are Mormons!" I know, it blew my mind too.


Richard's captivated by something Ben is regaling him with while MC Gigglepuss lays down some rhymes to Hannah

Dear Stuff & Things, Is there such thing as a green bee? Are they more dangerous than regular bees? Either way, how does one trap them? Thanks! Salt Water Drinker

Hey S.W.D., oh good God yes! Green bees exist. Green hornet, anyone? These insects have no lanterns on them, thankfully. The only thing more dangerous than these aquamarine stingboxes are BLUE bees. Man, they are some vindictive sons of bitches. But green bees, yes they exist. And yes, you can trap them. I shall show you how. First, find the green monstrosity. (See Fig. A) Then, trap him and wrap packing tape around all his available exits and douse his hiding spot with WD-40 until he suffocates to . . . DEATH. (See Fig. B) That should just about do it.

Fig A. --

Fig B. --


Dear Stuff & Things, How have the Diamond Mines been? Or is it Danger Mouse? I can never keep track which job is which. Cordially, Long Distance Comrade

Well L.D.C., work gets called a lot of things. Diamond Mines, Danger Mouse, Dolphin Mustard, etc. But let's not focus on silly nicknames. Between there and the 7th letter of the alphabet, I've, as of this writing, worked 25 days in a row. Has it been worth it? Um - I guess. I need to make the money to pay off the myriad problems with the Jeep. I need to buy new glasses. I need to pay all these new unexpected bills - full cable, vet, water, etc. I need to be able to afford taking time off for Thanksgiving in New York. I need to be able to afford to go to Fred's wedding (fingers crossed). These next few days are gonna really put me through the ringer. Day - Danger Mouse, Night - the G, all weekend. Rough. But it's worth it. I think. But here's some fun pics from the Diamond Mines to show that at least it's not all doom and gloom and P.I.B.B. 24 hours a day.


The Nicks joyriding the E-Z Rider


The abandoned Nissan that became my responsibilty and brought the wrath of the Dover Police Dept. Notice the hammer wedged into the dashboard. It's always in the details . . .


Big Nick and I spend some quality time getting to learn the new snowshoe stock


Dear Stuff & Things, I was in line in the 14 items or less line the other day at the grocery store and the elderly woman in front of me had to have at least 35 fucking items. Most of it cat food. Trust me, I counted every fucking can of Sheba. So I'm standing there, totally fucking steamed at her and her old baggy, boney self, when I see three 6-packs of IBC root beer in the bottom undercarriage part of the cart. Now, despite the obvious good taste on the woman's part, I just know that she ain't gonna be able to root that shit out on her own and lift it on to the conveyer belt. So what do I do? I'll tell you. I look to see if there's any hot girls around. There isn't. So I figure I'll at least get points from God. I bend down, get her bottles out, and put them on the belt for her. She thanks me profusely. And suddenly I'm not mad at her anymore. All the anger and frustration I had for her when she decided not to play by the "Market Basket Courtesy Rules" flew out the proverbial window. What's wrong with me? Are old people my kryptonite? Help me! Elderly Peeps Sap My Steely Resolve

Simply put Sap, yes, they are your kryptonite.


Dear Stuff & Things, I have a manners question. I was at a rather informal outdoor function a few weeks ago and was getting ready for my second helping of spinach souflee. That's when I looked down on my plate and realized, about two layers down into the souflee, lay a perfectly intact insect. It looked like a giant roach. Maybe it was more a katydid. I don't know. I'm not a big bug guy. Anyway, my question. What should I have done? What's the proper procedure to alert party guests that such a "buggy" cooking faux pas has gone down without causing too much of a "buzz"? This Thorax Seems Well Done

Dear Thorax, Man oh man, do I feel for you. And I can think of a few friends of mine that could probably sympathize with you quite a bit too. A friend of mine, Olly, was always making us eat dishes that his sister concocted. Many times we'd come across such "delicacies" as helgramites, shards of aluminum, blasting caps, pine cones, etc. Unfortunately, Olly would lose all sense of logic and reality when his sister was concerned so we never dared bring up how horrible her actual dishes were. Eventually, we ended up just breaking off contact with Olly, simply so we didn't have to stomach his sister's inane "faux-mysterious for the sake of being mysterious" persona. So far, so good . . .


Dear Stuff & Things, Is it possible to paint on Monday, and after numerous showers since, still have paint on your skin? Painter Smurf

Dear Painter Smurf, Yes.

Dear Stuff & Things, I heard you went up for a racous time of Vegan camping with the Y's last Saturday in Maine. Is this true? And is it true that you didn't eat meat, didn't drink, and didn't gamble?! Please fill me in! Signed, Quentin Quire

Dear Q.Q., you're only 1 for 4 I am afraid. All you got right was that I was indeed there. I most certainly ate meat, definitely drank, and due to that evil devil Left Right Center, I gambled. And as if me gambling wasn't bad enough. [Especially since I had sworn it off long ago.] But I bankrolled Hayley's first foray into gambling. I'm so losing my chance at a one-way ticket to Heaven. But despite the fact that my day started at 6 with a dawn run, pre-breakfast lawn mowing, working all day at the mines, and getting lost in Saco with Hayley on the way to the party, we still had a great time, and as usual, whenever Alex and bottles of liquor are involved, I get my ass handed to me by the booze fairy. And I slept in a tent for the first time since . . . well, it's been a long time. Let's just say that.


Fire hot. And fire also miraculously not incinerate tree


Hayley, Shannon, Ben & Aly try to stand the heat while getting ready to open fun presents! Gazelle Carcass!


Shan-Y and Hal-Y doing it up over the pond on the precarious tire swing


If you look closely at this shot, you can see Hayley and Shannon walking back to the camp from the tire swing. To the immediate bottom left of the flood light. See their little Y bodies? Awwwww


Sometimes, friends take pictures of other friends after certain friends fill them up with Cape Codders and shots of Grey Goose & Jack Daniels. These are not nice friends. They are rotten fronds. But I would do the same to them. So I can't stay mad


A village of tents! Sweeeet. Not long after this picture was taken, I was fast asleep/passed out in that back green tent. The tent was courtesy of Andrea and Phil. The dead dog smell that permeated said tent was also courtesy of Andrea and Phil


Ben Cole, fishing in the peace and foggy quiet the next hungover morning


Dear Stuff & Things, Word on the street is that you came into some pretty fucking sweet-ass goat-shaking sandals. True . . . or false? P. Parker

Dear Mr. Parker, thoughtful question, even if it was planted. For as your alter-ego, Spider-Man, you know full well that I am in possession of the sweetest Atomic sandals that you ever have seen. They were a parting gift from the Atomic rep after the ski/snowboard clinic we had on Tuesday at the Mines. (No Hayley, a ski/snowboard clinic is not where sick skis go to for medicine) I got a sweet Atomic t-shirt too. But nothing beats the stuffing out of these sandals. Not even if the stuffing is SAUSAGE stuffing. Don't believe me?! Well you SHOULD. And if you don't, well why don't you just cast your eyes in a downward type of motion!


It's ok. I accept your apology now. Now that you have seen the SWEETEST SANDALS EVER.


Dear Stuff & Things, Did you say TWENTY-FIVE DAYS? IN A ROW? Holy shit. That's a lot. How the fuck do you do it?? Orko

Hey Orko, what up sweetness? Still doing up your magic shit for Teela and the gang? You always had my back O, even in the bad old days. And I'll always remember you for that. Bowl cuts be damned. Well, to answer your q, we're actually bleeding into Day 26 as this entry gets longer and longer. How do I do it? Not well. The two goals I'm shooting for are Halloween, which will be Day 50, and the Monday of Thanksgiving week, which will be Day 71. Or maybe it's 70. I'm too tired to check right now. The point is, my own meat-table-ism just isn't doing the trick anymore. So I've been resorting to Red Bull and assorted other energy drinks (read: not cocaine). One I tried last Sunday, after all that camping lunacy, in order to stay up and serve the little moppets of downtown Portsmouth, was this gigantic new can of Jolt called "Jolt: Cherry Bomb". Now, if you know me at all Orko, you know that I was taken in by a.) the Cherry flavor, b.) the shimmering silvery magenta packaging, c.) did I mention it was packed with about 7,047 joules of caffiene? Like the Mormons didn't hate me enough already, right? But I'm thinking you're still having trouble truly envisioning the enormity of the massive Jolt I drank. Is it bigger than a bread box? Pretty much. Bigger than Kenichi? Nearly.


Dear Stuff & Things, Where the fuck did you hide my glasses? Seriously, you're no good. I need my glasses back so I can mark in all these OSHI boxes that came in. Please give me back my glasses. And don't hide them somewhere high, since I am very short and that would really sling my hash if they were out of my oh-so-limited reach. Annoyed, Marky Mark and The Fishing Bunch

Dear M.M. & the F.B., I will try to make this easy, and yet somewhat of a challenge at the same time. I hid your glasses somewhere in the store and nowhere near your department. That's really the only hints I can give you. Ok, I'll show you a picture too, but I hope it doesn't give too much away.


Dear Stuff & Things, Do you think talking to yourself in the shower is really all that healthy? Do you think arguing points to yourself about things you only have limited control over is the best course of action? I agree that your paranoia is ofter justified, but just as many times it's not. Remember, only certain lines on the palm are significant, not every single one. Hope this helps, John Locke

Dear Locke, I'm not really sure what your question is here. Is it healthy for me to talk to myself in the shower? Out loud? I don't know. No more healthy than getting in feuds with inanimate objects, which I seem to do on a daily basis. I try to be able to know which way the wind is blowing. But sometimes I just don't know. So I'm going to the carnival tonight. On desolation row.


Dear Stuff & Things, Do you have any "money making" schemes you'd like to share with me? I am currently only to afford several cars of my own, a house, lavish vacations around the world and I'm not currently employed, so I could really use some advice on how to get some quick cashflow. Thanks again, Pandora

Oh Pandora, you minx! First you open that box, then you kick ass as a dungeon boss in Kid Icarus, and now you're writing my letter of foot loosery and fancy freeness. I can only answer as gentlemanly as possible, you beautific gas bag you! Firstly, do I ever have a scheme for you! I mean, besides ruining everyone else's lives while they sit there and grin and take it. You silly girl! Oops, bad word choice. You're not silly (for definitelys) and you're mostly a sucubus hardly a girl! Anyway, scheme. Yes, here we go. It's all about the skittles. Buy lots of them. Taste the rainbow until your tongue is so violated by Roy. G. Biv that you want to dial *57 on his ass. Or something. And then buy some more. Until you get some weird ass non-Skittle color. Weird ass is KEY. Like say, salmon. Why, what a good example, since the VERY thing happened to me this week! Take a gander:


That is just NOT natural. Purple, Orange, Green, Red, and Yellow. Nowhere on the skittle bag does it mention salmony pink! Oh I can hear you nay-sayers from here. "That's just a light red!' Bull roar! Look closer!


How about that?! Huh?! Now do you agree?? That is some salmon fucking shit. As far as the $$$ aspect . . . I don't know, write your local skittle congressman or something and say skittles should pay you big bucks (no whammies, stop!) for the discovery of this rouge skittle. Or something. I don't know.

Is that it? Are those all the questions? This was a lot of work for some sort of first installment. Damn, I can't wait to work all fucking weekend. And if you read this, I'm just going to assume my invitation got lost in the mail. And if you read this . . . I don't even know what to say anymore.

It's been real,

Zabco 404


ps - New Poll! The last one, "Birthday Predictions?" ended with a 3rd place finish for "Hayley overdoses on Tang and goes on a killing rampage" with 3 votes & 14%, a 2-way tie for 2nd with both "Jeff fills the ditch with MGD and swims to freedom" and "Fred speaks only in iambic pentameter" getting 4 votes & 19% each. First place, unsurprisingly, with 6 votes and 29% went to "Kenichi, Kate, Andrea, Brooke & Monique have a 5-way throwdown over Mac & Cheese Wedges". Which of course couldn't happen, since I fucked up the Mac & Cheese order - and Brooke ditched out on the party. Oh well, whaddya gonna do? New Poll!

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<-- Back to the Salt Mines! - Onward, to the Bee-Mobile! -->

2002 - 2009 ZQF8

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