Real quick like, here’s some funny shit I thought I’d pass along.

The Chipmunkz express their discontent after a career laden with sex and drugs… and nuts.

I’m sure that Ray Harryhausen would be turning in his grave at the thought of a tribute like this. Maybe ‘ol Ray hung out at the Blue Oyster. Hmmm.

Bless the sick and twisted fuckers in this world. Digest and enjoy, my peeps

Holy smokes! This guy gets the "Dad Of The Decade" award for making one of the most original treehouses/forts I have ever seen. Basically he constructed a 38% scale BattleMech – a MadCat to be specific – starting with a few shipping crates he was just going to screw together so the kids could climb on them. Needless to say, that idea changed. All told it was seven months worth of work, it looks pretty sharp and I’m envious.

"Daddy, can WE play on the BattleMech now?"

"Not yet, Daddy’s almost to his next waypoint. DmentD to base, I’m going in."

Honda made a commercial for distribution in the UK that is absolutely stunning to watch. I’ve always been a fan of Rube Goldberg and his unusual contraptions, and this commercial had me spellbound. Bear in mind these few details when watching this: this was done in one take – no CGI or film cuts, and it took 606 takes.

Get the Quicktime version of the commercial here. It’s a mirror on a UK based message board. Look for the link at the end of the first paragraph.

The absolute worst part of taking a vacation is ending it. I don’t give a crap if it was a good one or a bad one. You could have had five incontinent, gas-bloated, farting and screaming kids jammed into a station wagon with no air-conditioning and windows that won’t roll down and you’d still be dreading the day you have to return to work.

Fortunately, the above scenario was as far from what my little break was as I could make it. Nadia and I are fortunate to have friends that either live or have property in groovy places. Our pals Genghis and JOA have a family farm up in north Louisiana. I mean WAY north. City of Colquitt, Parish or Claiborne, spit on Arkansas north. It’s a six or so hour drive (with minimal stops), and the fastest route brings you through Mississippi and you brush-burn through Jackson before heading west. Not a bad drive all told, but if you’re not familiar with the territory, you’d better make it during daylight hours or you’ll be saying "hello" to the little feller with the banjo and a grin like a jack-o-lantern who’s awfully fond of pig noises, should you get lost. The trip also provides this below sea-level city boy with something he doesn’t see often – hills. Not giant ones, not huge piles of rock, but rolling hills nonetheless. You CALI folks practically live on the side of a mountain, so I don’t wanna hear from you about how it’s no big deal. I live in a fucking bowl; the closest I get to hills are the interstate overpasses.

Genghis’ farm is on a good-sized piece of land that was once used for cattle farming, but is now used for tree farming (a single stampede now takes ten years). Lots of land means privacy and silence – take into account that going "to town" is a fourteen-mile ride. There is a beautiful private lake, small and made by the damming of a stream that cut through the property. The house was built by his grandfather, and is as far from a shack as you can get. It’s a cozy and sturdy place with modern conveniences like central A/C and, get this, a good sized flat screen TV with a satellite feed. Hell, we brought a DVD player and a crapload of movies to enjoy during the trip.

You can spend your days doing a number of things. Napping is a good one. Very important. You can just lounge around and read if you want – Nadia got in two books while she was there. You can take one of the boats out on the lake and paddle around for the sake of doing it. There are also a few good paths through the property that you can walk, like a nature trail.

Fishing is a biggie with me. The lake has an abundance of bass and perch practically daring you to catch them. I’ve learned more about fishing at the farm over the years than I have from all of my other fishing experiences put together. We’d go out a few times a day and hit the deep areas, and we did pretty well, including a few alligator-gar that we either strung up for target practice (more on this later) or chopped their jaw hinges and tossed them back in to be a productive part of the "circle of life". What? The gar and turtle population needs to be kept in balance or the lake ecosystem gets way screwed up. Trust me.

Shooting is my other favorite activity – isn’t it yours? There’s enough space that we can go out to one of the back pastures and set up targets and other fun objects and have a fiesta sharpening our firearms skills. I typically bring my .22 rifle (with scope), my Winchester 12 gauge pump and my trusty .38 Special revolver. There are also other lovely weapons to choose from as well. We can spend hours shooting without the bother of time or caliber limitations, worrying about a neighbor being bothered (or shot) or fighting for target time. Hell, pack a lunch and make a picnic of it.

The .22 rifles are handy elsewhere too. We’ll take them with us out on the lake when we fish and help to thin the turtle population. On sunny days the turtles will come out in droves and sun themselves on logs and stumps along the banks of the lake… making mighty fine targets indeed. My .22 is sighted for about 75 yards, which is plenty of distance to not spook the turtles while lining up a shot. It’s almost comical to watch them go flipping sideways off of a log like an Olympian ice skater botching a somersault. A note to all you folks who just *gasped* and think we’re horrible for killing these harmless little creatures: go to hell. These "harmless little creatures" are exceptionally destructive little fuckers that happen to be one of the highest things on the food chain for this lake. There are no semi-aquatic critters to act as predators, and left unchecked the turtles will destroy the lake’s fish and other creature population pretty quick, as well as burrow and erode the land around the lake. Plus, they’re just so much fun to shoot.

The alligator-gar, while not as destructive to the land, are equally, if not more destructive to the fish population than the turtles. Once caught they are removed from the loop, most popularly as carbon-based targets. Slim and long, they’re challenging to hit. The big contest is to see who can saw one in half with .22 rounds first. Fun for the whole family!

Alas, the day came when we had to leave the farm and head home. Pretending to be smart people, we left ourselves with an extra day off to spend, well, taking a vacation from our vacation. We were able to run a few errands we usually can’t do during the work week and the time off ended perfectly with a beautiful evening spent with the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra and their Swing In The Oaks open air free concert in City Park. The weather was very nice, the music was great and we got to pretend that we’re mildly pretentious by sitting on a blanket in the open field drinking red wine, eating fresh fruit and wheat crackers with pâté. Ok, we really do enjoy that stuff, but just can’t muster up the energy to be genuinely snobby on a day-to-day basis. We have to be snobby now and again or the Pâté Eater’s Association will revoke our membership cards. You know how it is.

For a change I don’t feel like my time off was rushed, but I wouldn’t have minded a few extra days. I feel moderately relaxed, even having spent a cumulative fourteen hours on the road with the other morons-on-wheels. Fishing is good, shooting guns (safely) is better and extra sleep with naps in-between is the best. Wine and pâté are not just for elitist pigs, and I’m a very common man to prove that.

Incidentally, you shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers in a prison area. Yes, this is for real, and was on the road into town.

That is all.

Exercise. The "E" word. I’ve avoided it for years, and my current shape reflects it. I’m a tall guy with broad shoulders, so I’m allowed by nature a little extra weight on my frame. I took that concept an ran with it. Granted, I’m not obscenely obese – not 700 pounds of angry man looking for the next herd of pizzas to decimate with my gaping maw. I’m just a lot heavier than I’d like to be, and I can feel it every time I move. I grunt when I get up off the sofa, I’ve grown lazy because I don’t feel like making any efforts that require me to lift, move or walk distances to anything. I have a tendency to eat everything I put on a plate, but have a bad habit of piling a lot on my plate. I don’t eat poorly compared to the rest of the nation, but if a burger and fries sidles up to me and says "hello sailor" who am I to refuse its compelling advances?

But I’m trying hard to change Ringo… I’m trying R-E-A-L hard.

I’m playing a tricksy game of chess – my brain on one side of the board and my body on the other. I’ve come to know myself over the years, and I know what I will not do, and what I will respond to. I know that if I go balls-out into an exercise program and start getting into it hardcore, I’ll burn out faster than a vegetarian’s fart on steak night. It starts to bore me, I find excuses not to go, I get distracted and stop. I also know that if I try to start up an exercise regimen by myself, I’ll do the same thing. I’m an inherently lazy person and like water, will seek the downward path and settle in a pool. So to speak.

How do I get around these known barricades do you ask?

First, I will never, ever start an exercise program solo. I need the help to focus. I need the encouragement to go, especially on those days when I’m sore and sleepy – it’s way to easy to just go home a sit in front of the TV and turn into a mushroom. I need someone to share the experience with, that I can count on to entertain me while I entertain them in return. To make it fun.

Second, I will always start s-l-o-w. Start nice and easy, letting my body get accustomed to the idea that it’s gonna be moving around a bit more frequently. If I get a wild hair up my ass and hit the gym 5 days in a row, each day making me more sore than the last, I’m going to get awfully tired of being that sore in a big, big hurry, regardless of the fact that I’ll stop being sore after a while.

Third, I need an exercise program of some sort. I require someone to tell me what’s next on the agenda, even if it’s some big-necked gorilla named Gunter. Point a finger at the floor and tell me to do ten knuckle pushups and I’ll hit the deck, snap off ten and pop up looking for the next instruction. Left to my own devices, I’ll disassemble the rowing machines just to see how they tick, then wander off to the cafe to confirm my belief that health foods taste like gritty cardboard.

Fourth, severe dieting and major swings in eating habits don’t take hold well. Keeping an eye on how much I put on my plate, and steering the "hunger boat" into healthier water rather than into the dock or over the falls is a safer bet for me.

To start the ball rolling, I’ve enrolled into a martial arts program. Kuk Sool Won to be precise. Attending Kuk Sool Won classes is the brainchild of Phreeq who consequently is trying to get into a better shape as well. I’ve enrolled with Phreeq, S and Rhondalady – a happy little mob that can keep each other going and bolster spirits in times of need. We go twice a week, and every other Saturday (as available). We have skilled and patient instructors who give us plenty of direction, attention and many other -tions. I feel pretty darned good after the classes, even being a little sore. I’m immensely entertained because studying a martial art is something I’ve wanted to do for at least ten years. It’s almost too perfect.

The downside is that right now I have a gimpy thumb. Purely by accident (so she says) Rhondalady managed to smoosh my left thumb in a car door. Pain. Let me say that again. MOTHERFUCKING PAIN! So, it hurt a lot. The nail turned black. The finger became swolen. I’m looking forward to a 95% chance of losing the fingernail in the near future. So, all-in-all I have many months of inconvenience to deal with. Hardy, fucking har. Makes grappling and pressure points a little difficult to execute with when you can’t use your left thumb.

Who knows where this will lead. In six months I will have either stepped up my Kuk Sool classes to more days a week and supplementing them with home exercise, or I’ll be sitting on the sofa doing some major damage to a bag of chips.

Time and willpower will tell.