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This blog post is coming to you from my new old computer!!!!

Me, a broken motherboard (which I'm willing to let go of and sell to you for a bargain price of $99!!!), and a still-alive dog. Life is good.

It’s back!

I had to call them to learn it was repaired…but let’s not sweat the details.

And in case you thought those brain dead, weed-soaked losers at the computer place just PRETENDED to swap out my motherboard with a used motherboard for a mere $400 USD…well, take a gander at the picture posted here. They gave me part of a stereo and sold me on a fairytaleland story that this uber-electronic piece of whatever was the old motherboard. Or maybe it really is the old motherboard?

Whatever. What the hell do I know motherboard from Ouija board?

Anyway, I’m happy to have it back. Basically unaltered. Still of the smudgy screen and food-filled keyboard. But actually turning on and still with those (better be goddamn brilliant at these prices) first ten pages of the new book.

(more…)

That really is entirely too many children.

I’ve never had the courage to share this with you, but I’ve long harbored dreams of almost becoming a nun, being sent from the abbey to work for an uptight military captain, and playing governess to his seven repressed kids. But it doesn’t end there: I’d fashion them clothing out of table cloths and burlap sacks and old towels. I’d teach them to sing and we’d run amok. Then he’d bring home a fancy pants fiance, and I’d get jealous and resolve to show him what’s what and become a nun after all. But that wouldn’t work out, and I’d come back to the house, eventually winning him over with my charm, naivete, and skill with a sewing machine. Oh, and a little bit because he just got brutally dumped by said fiance. Inevitably and ultimately we would start our own von Trapp Family Singers, only we’d call ourselves Keepin’ it in the Family, or Wolfy von WolfWolf, or Whatchu Talkin Bout Willis,  or maybe KISS.

Nazis optional.

It’s such a simple dream, really. In fact, I’m surprised it hasn’t come true sooner. However, at long last, it looks like it could:

Austrian village offers free land to boost population

VIENNA (AFP) – A village in northern Austria, worried by its dwindling population, is offering free land to all who pledge to start a family in a decade, the Kurier newspaper reported Saturday.

Plots of 800 and 900 square metres(8,611 to 9,687 square feet) are up for grabs at Rappottenstein, near the Czech border, to both singles and married couples who pledge to have at least one child in the next 10 years.

Singles also have get married. Other conditions stipulate that the new owners have to build a house on the plot in three years. If the conditions are not fulfilled, the owners will have to pay 12,000 euros (15163 dollars).

I know we’re all sick of hearing about her, but bear with me on this one: I think this could be the perfect solution for the “Octomom,” Nadya Suleman. I’m sure there’s some nice Austrian sheep herder or something who would love to support an American wackadoo and her 14 kids.

Nazis optional.

Your friendly host, hard at work on yet another entertaining blog, and doing some unpaid product placement for Grape Nuts while she's at it.

So yesterday at the gym, I had an idea. It was around the time that I was using the chest press and marveling at my own weakness, and the guy with the giant steroid body and tiny little head walked by. I suppose the sight of him made it suddenly occur to me that half of these people belong in a zoo. Like if aliens ever come, they should stick a majority sampling of the individuals frequenting my local club into cages and give them some gym equipment and leave them be.

• Like the skinny Asian guy who does all the weights crazy fast, as if in some sort of ‘bad form’ speed competition.

• Or the old man that wears the tiny short shorts and then groans really loudly every time he lifts a weight so you’ll look at him.

• Or the lady who wears the slacks and button-down shirt and lifts free weights.

See? Look at the gathered crowd. And in the rain, no less. People love performance art! Or naked guys sitting in plastic bubbles. Either way.

Anyway, all these human oddities got me thinking about performance art. You know, where someone stages some kind of odd event – be it twenty people hula hooping at once, or the individuals mulling around Grand Central station becoming suddenly, eerily quiet all at the same time – in the name of art. Speaking of which, can you imagine being the guy wandering around Grand Central the day that happened and NOT realizing what was going on? Definitely an end-of-the world ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ moment, if ever there were.

At any rate, while musing on my own potential as a performer of the absurd, I decided that if I ever had the opportunity and the government funding, I would have someone build me a zoo habitat, and I’d hang out there for a couple weeks. I’m thinking a part land/part water habitat might be nice. Something like what they build for a hippo or the penguins, only not so cold. I could swim some laps, or maybe play with a ball.

That's what I'm talking about.

A couple times a day, they could bring me my food in a bucket, and toss individual shrimps or Chicken McNuggets into my mouth. I’d act either ferocious or friendly at my keeper’s approach, depending upon my mood. If you were in charge of my maintenance, you could never be sure if I’d hug you or try to swipe you with my paws (hands).

Once in a while they could introduce a new object into my habitat to keep me entertained and watch me interact with it, like a cardboard box or an old, discarded Christmas tree or a Nintendo Wii. Or maybe bring my dog by for a visit, and we he could kick my @ss at tug-of-war (like he usually does, only without an audience). Heck, bring me a Bow Flex, and I could do some unimpressive weight lifting or approach the machine in fear and awe like the monkeys with the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

And, of course, if you ‘accidentally’ fell into my cage, I would attack you with extreme prejudice. But remember: I am a national treasure, so you can’t fight back.

Dear Readers, I need your help! But the best kind of help…the kind that´s easy!

So you know that ridiculous e-mail you get every four months? It’s about seven years old, and claims that if you forward it to everyone you know, Microsoft will pay you $300 OR the Dalai Lama will bless you, your wife will come back, and every scratch card will be a winner for three to 60 days (depending upon how many people you send the nonsense onto)?

Well, I’ve considered starting one of those, but have decided instead to just flat out ask for your help.

Partly this is because any effort I make to start a viral e-mail will probably fail. Sure, I’ve got a handful of acquaintances who forward every damn thing they get and some good ideas involving promises of blessings and good fortune (and a little threat of irreparable harm seems to help those along), but mostly my friends are flaky. I know this because of a recipe exchange last spring. The rules were: ‘Send a recipe to the person at the top of this list, and then send 20 of your friends the e-mail of the person that sent this to you. In a week, you’ll get 150 recipes!” I did this, and just to be thorough, I sent the name to 25 of my flaky friends. (You know who you are). And in six months, I’ve gotten two recipes.

I blame my (probably now deleting my number from their cell phones) friends. Clearly they are the weak link. Or they’re friends with even weaker links. Or maybe I am my friends’ only friend. Whatever. They blew it.

Anyway, it’s like this: I did a little math on the train today, and I have 28 days left. Wasn’t 28 Days the name of a horror movie about flesh eating zombies? BAD SIGN.

Whenever I get a ominous harbinger, I like to spring into action, and this action requires your help: I need to reach people in publishing, editing, television, soft porn (I require the same lighting and ‘fuzzy focus’ as Heather Locklear and a body double), or WHATEVER, to let them know I exist, and I am here to write for them or travel for them or author their blog or do whatever it takes to change careers into something creative. I’m not super picky about how that manifests, so long as it pays really, really well.

And in order to to get the attention of the important people with the fat wallets and the publishing contracts or travel writing jobs (I’m digging the idea, Maxxy!) or whatever, I’d like to ask for a wee, tiny favor. Over the weekend, would you take five minutes to tell five of your friends about this blog? Or ten of your friends if you’d like to be regularly mistaken for George Clooney and/orHeidi Klum. Or twenty friends if you’re interested in winning a Rolls Royce…

(Send me a stamped, self-addressed envelope and $10 if you’d like to hear the complete list of great imaginary prizes!)

Moreover, if you have friends or relatives or ‘frienemies’ in the industries listed above (a.k.a. people who might pay me to write or travel or eat strange things or give Pygmies haircuts or look at disturbing Austrian penis art or author their blog), all the better!! And if you have anything to do with Oprah (the holy grail) or David Sedaris (my hero), then may the road rise to meet you and the wind always be at your back. Also, I only speak English, but I’m sure the Italians can figure out how to dub me, so I’m willing to work there as well.

To help make this request a little simpler, I’ve taken the liberty of writing the e-mail for you. So all you have to do is cut and paste. I also give you full permission to edit (if you insist, Picky Pants).

Subject: MESSAGE FROM GOD

If you consider me your god. Which would be pretty cool.

I know we haven’t spoken since I accidentally killed your geriatric parakeet, Stella, but I have discovered a blog that is not about politics or celebrities or celebrabies or wanton sex acts, but which is still so compelling that I HAD TO tell you about it. Plus, the author asked (really nicely) that I pass it on to all my friends in the hopes that I know someone who might help her ‘get discovered’ in a writerly kind of way. (As if)

The blog is called Wide Awake in Wonderland, and you can find it at http://wideawakeinwonderland.wordpress.com

It’s about life and travel and how people are idiots and once in a while it’s kind of funny.

Also, if you know anyone looking to pay big money for minimal talent, she asked that you send them her way (or mine).

I hope you enjoy it, and have a great weekend!

Thanks/Cheers/Ciao/Dude!

***YOUR NAME HERE***

p.s.

And if you pass this on to 50 of your closest friends and everyone else you’ve ever managed to wheedle an e-mail address out of, your house will NOT burn down and Apple will send you $500 as reparations for all those songs you stupidly downloaded on iTunes while you were drunk.