And Brutus is an itchy man

The following is a Mad Libs version of Mark Antony's big speech in Shakespeare's Julius Caeser that we completed at work today:



Friends, Romans, mongooses, lend me your toes;
I come to translate Caesar, not to wander him.
The curling that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their shades:
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was deadly:
If it were so, it was a grievous CD;
And grievously hath Caesar shunned it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,--
For Brutus is an itchy man;
So are they all, all itchy men,--
Come I to sing in Caesar's funeral.
He was my earring, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says ge was deadly;
And Brutus is an itchy man.
He hath brought tight captives home to Rome,
Whose dancers did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem deadly?
When that the poor have jammed, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of grassy stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was deadly;
And Brutus is an itchy man.
You all did see that on the Lupercal
I 23 times presented him a kingly shoehorn,
Which he did 59 times refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was deadly;
And, sure, he is an itchy man.
I earring not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
but here I am to earring what I do know.

Toronto! and my obsession with curling

I am quite excited... I have booked my flight for to visit my dear co-Mafia! member at UofT... Please note I have included the logo not only for your viewing pleasure but also because I am bored and want to play around with inserting pictures.

I'm leaving after work on the 12th and coming home just before work on the 17th. I am quite excited...

More to follow on this exciting adventure, probably after it occurs since this seems to be the most logical time to follow-up on it.


In other news, I was upset to learn (nearly two days ago) that our men's curling team has only won the bronze where the Canadians have swept (haha) up the gold-- for those keeping track Finland got the silver. The only one that really matters is the gold though- after that you are just naming the first and second losers.

That may seem rather harsh but think about it this way... thinking back to any competition over the past 2000-3000 years... would you recall more readily the winner or the guy who came in second or third? That's what I thought. Thanks for proving my point.

I think we should have curling on TV here. I mean we put all sorts of crappy things on TV including reality television and soap operas and MTV (which hasn't had music on it in who-knows-how-long). Why not put an awesome sport like this on TV. I'd actually turn on the TV and watch-- well, I would if I didn't have anything to read... actually it's a nice sport to watch while reading as I learned during this year's Olympics.

I love this curling Google doodle though:

Isn't it just pleasant? I also recently learned that Philadelphia has a curling club... www.philadelphiacurlingclub.org

How cool is that? Okay that's all I've got for now.

For the Woodpecker

Near the street just past the end of my driveway this morning, a little dark spot moved about in the pure white snow, struggling to stay aloft. Dropping my shovel-- mindless of my sneakers and pajama pants-- I rush through the foot deep powder to see what it was.

I hesitated a moment as I neared, hoping I wouldn't find a rabies infested baby raccoon or squirrel. It looked like a bird. It continued struggling sinking its little body deeper and deeper into the snow as I approached. I knelt down and dug my gloved hands down about six inches. I felt a little body jump away. I scooped the snow out from around it to reveal a small bird.

The bird had a proud red crest and beautiful black feathers with little white flecks all over its body. He was a woodpecker-- insert mental image of that amusing cartoon scamp Woody the Woodpecker and you have a vague idea of what he looked like.

As I looked into my hands at his tiny shivering body I watched the fear in his little eyes melt into trusting appreciation. He's going to be okay.
Prize in hand, I began to trudge back across the yard to the small patch of driveway by my back door that I had already shoveled. The walk seemed longer this time but the little woodpecker kept me amused by hopping from my hands to my arm and then up to my shoulder where he perched until I got to my porch.

Bewildered by my find, I wondered what I should do with him. His little wings were wet and he didn't seem to be able to fly at the moment. As I pondered where to put him, he took matters into his hands-- I mean wings-- and flitted off my shoulder onto a chair and then hopped down and hid in a corner just out of reach. After searching the porch for hazards, I decided to let the little guy remain where he wanted, at least for the moment.

My family has a blood-thirsty cat that my mother calls Lunar. I prefer to call this beast Lunatic or Psycho depending on how she acts that day. Needless to say, I feared this beast would tear this little snowbird apart as she has done to so many little unsuspecting, undeserving creatures.

I called into the kitchen to my mother who was preparing to help me attack our driveway and blast away the small snow crag that had been strategically placed by a passing snowplow. She nearly let the beast out as she hurried out to help. I yelled at the cat and it turned around. (It does that because it has to or I don't stop until it does. Who says you can't train cats?)

She looked at my little woodpecker and decided that we should let him dry off on the porch where it was a little warmer than outdoors and then let him get back to his tree. My dad soon came out and said that we should make the poor little thing stay outside or it would get panicky and get stuck in there.

Begrudgingly, I tried to shoo him out the door. He had other ideas. By this point, the little guy had somehow managed to climb up the brick wall to the ceiling and was attempting to peck at the molding. So we locked the cat in the house with strict warnings to my sisters-- okay, threats-- not to let it out, left the outside door open and hoped the smart little guy would dry off and wander out.



Not so. By the time we finished shoveling out and returned to the house, the woodpecker had made himself quite at home high on the brick wall. He hid his proud little face from us and still (unsuccessfully) tried to peck at the molding.

I wanted to watch him until he decided to leave but as we all know Commerce Bank is never closed so off I went with my father sliding along at 2 mph to America's Most Convenient Bank to help answer the phone telling customers who didn't plan to come in that we were in fact open despite the snow.

Finally the end of the day arrives and I happily accept a ride home from a coworker with an SUV. Excitedly, I walk up my driveway and hurry into the porch.
He's gone!

I go back outside to look for him in a nearby tree. Nothing. Hmm... maybe he's hiding...
I head into the house where my mother greets me with a sullen face.

"I'm sorry he died."

"You let your cat kill my bird?"

"No... He started to look a lot better and started moving towards the door. Then he seemed to take a turn for the worse."

Pause. That split second lasted at least a minute to me.

"I'm sorry Meg, he got to the screen and sat on it, shat on it, and then I think his little body froze there. I found the cat staring up at him but she couldn't reach him."

"Why did you let the cat out? It scared the poor thing to death! No doubt Psycho was waiting for the little woodpecker to fall so she could bat it around. Where is he now?"

"He's outside in the trash can... he's the only thing in there except some shredded paper."

Dejected, I glared at the evil cat sitting prim and proper on the porch as I slammed the door before she could get near enough to go in. I went to the trash can and peered to see if mt sweet little friend was really there.

And so he was. I paused a moment hoping that he was just playing dead and would fly up and out of the trash can. I kicked the side of the can gently hoping he'd wake out of his slumber and start moving about.

Nothing.

His lifeless body lay atop a pile of shredded bills and credit card statements, still beautiful and proud but no longer hopping about as he had been only hours ago.

Why do I share such a sad story? Because it happened.

Winter's Coming! Winter's Coming!

Woody the Woodpecker is not just a cartoon to me anymore.... more details later.

Nobody ever says I want to be a POP junkie when I grow up

Okay... I found an 80s lyric quiz on the kitchen table while I was at work and thought it would be fun to do. It took me most of Sunday since everytime I was really getting on a role some customer would come in with somehing for me to do...

Silly customers... don't they realize that they should be leaving me to my quizzes?


Anyway, I decided to check my answers at the website and thought I'd share it with whoever wastes his time on this page...

I am apparently a pop junkie because I knew a whole bunch of the lyrics. I beg to differ... I simply take to lyrics. I memorize them much the way I should memorize information... I do the same thing with a lot of repeated info... I regurgatate... That's what they trained me to do and being the good trained monkey I am I do it.

My score... without me cheating by looking up lyrics online... was 95.


I dare you to beat me without cheating. http://yetanotherdot.com/asp/80s.html

You Know Your From South Jersey When...

I thought these were pretty good. Most of the "You know you're from Jersey" lists are North /Central Jersey based and claim that we all think of NYC as "the city" and are all Jets fans and crap like that. This one was refreshing. I wish I could add more to this list. I added a couple here and there but I still feel like I missing some key South Jersey elements.


You don't "go to the beach," you go "down the shore."

In your mind you hear "watch the tram car please" even in your sleep.

You've had arguments over cheesesteak quality.

You know what a quality soft pretzel is and you know where to get it without venturing into Philly and buying it off the guy who stands in the street with them all day.

When it snows more than an inch, you call it a blizzard.

You've actually found the Echelon Mall when there were stores in it.

Your uncle is in the Mafia.

You or your friends have Lyme Disease.

You don't understand why there aren't more 24-hour diners elsewhere in the country.

You know what a Wawa is, and know the location of at least 15 of them.

You know what became of the 13th Leeds child, and claim to have seen him one time while peeing in the woods.

You see places labeled 'diner' and get upset about the misuse of the word when they close at night.

One time you were driving in the woods and got stuck in sand.

You have an EZ Pass, but you just hold it up.

Even though there's a new Wal-Mart in your town, you still go to the Berlin Farmer's Market for cheap stuff.

Your neighborhood demonstrates co-existence of African-Americans and racist rednecks.

You know that you should get the hell out of Camden before dark.

Your car is covered with yellow-green dust in April and May.

You buy Shop-Rite brand food at Shop-Rite.

Honesty, sincerity, and courtesy are things you once saw happen in Ohio.

You know how to successfully handle a traffic circle.

You think the Olive Garden is a bunch of crap and should not open restaurants in South Jersey.

You played soccer from Kindergarten through High School.

You've counted the number of titty bars on the Black Horse Pike.

You always went to the Franklin Institute when you were a kid.

Your middle school hangout was the mall.

You have an unusable, piece-of-shit boat in your front yard.

You once skipped school and went to Wildwood.

You're Italian or can pass for one if you want.

You know where to get the best bagel.

You've called someone an "asshole" to their face at the Philly airport.

You say "water" weird.

Even your school made good Italian subs, but you call them hoagies.

You've almost fallen asleep on the Expressway.

You've lived through hurricanes, nor'easters and fires, but have never seen a tornado, earthquake or volcano.

You can't believe MTV went to Seaside Heights. And not somewhere better, like Wildwood or Atlantic City.

You know that ACME is an actual store, not just a Warner Bros. creation.

You take day trips to New York City.

The Mafia runs half the businesses in your town.

You have mandatory recycling. Enforced by law.

In the woods behind your house, you can find couches, washing machines, and shoes.

You don't have to go to Red Lobster to get fresh seafood.

You go to at least one parade at the boardwalk each year.

You've made a meal out of Tastycakes, Herr's BBQ potato chips, and Pennsylvania Dutch Birch Beer.

You know who Mr. Softee is and waited every night for him every summer when you were a kid.

You know the Atlantic City High School marching band can lay down some phat beats.

You know New Years is all about the Mummers and the Polar Bear club.

You smoke Parliament Lights.

You go to the local Fire Department barbeque in June.

Down the road, in the middle of nowhere, is an Egyptian restaurant and a custard stand with a minature golf course.

You know what custard is in South Jersey.

You can go bowling at 1:30 A.M. (with automatic scoring!).

In high school, you worked at a Friendly's.

Route 206 doesn't freak you out at night.

One time, a sea gull shit all over your head.

Another time it got your funnel cake. And shit on your back.

You know that people from the 609 area code are "a little different."

Your mom still loves Bruce Springsteen.

You know it can be -10 degrees and 70 degrees in January in the same year.

There's a fruit and vegetable stand down the road.

You will always say "YO" and you'll say it often.

You scoff at tourists in Philadelphia.

You go to another state and sit at a gas station wondering when the people will come out to pump your gas.

You have your own bucket for carmel corn refills.

You know that no matter how much they put into the Camden Waterfront, Camden is still Camden.

You have to mail your relocated friends TastyKakes.

You think North Jersey is a different state and South Jersey deserves its own secession.

Your high school prom was at the Camden Aquarium or The Mansion in Voorhees.

You have season passes to Six Flags.

You refuse to call Hoagies "subs."

You know where Olga's Diner is on rt 70.

You are tired of people not believing you're from Jersey because you don't have a New York accent.

You drive by a farm every time you get in the car.

You know what "jimmies" are and refuse to call them anything else.

Your neighbor is either a painter, a plumber, a builder, or an electrician with a work truck in the driveway.

You take day trips to philly to walk on South Street.

You used to go to the $1.50 Eric Theater with more than half of your elementary school class and you would all share the same bottomless tub of popcorn.

You have had a near or close call experiences hitting a deer with your car.

You run around in the nearest patch of woods and play paint ball with your buddies.

You remember the ducks in the middle of Cherry Hill Mall.

You call the Berlin Farmer's Market the Berlin Auction or the Auction.

You took your report card to Clementon Park for free tickets.

You've had some of the best parties in a field.

Other people dont know what funnel cake and water ice is because everyone else calls it fried dough and slush.

You went "diner hopping" till the sun came up.

You don't acknowledge that it is tomorrow until either you go to sleep or the sun comes up.

You go on dates to diners and arcades.

You have empty Wawa half gallon iced tea bottles all over your car and room.

You've ever driven around aimlessly for hours with your friends saying "So, whatta we doin?"

You've ever said the phrase "look at fricken MacGyver over here!"

You know the difference betwine the train and the speedline.

The term "I think of you as a brother" turns into a whole family tree.

You ever drove all the way to the shore just to walk around for 5 minutes then drive back.

Your memories of places all consist of what you did there once when you were fucked up.

You ever went over someone's house to hang out with their mom.

You have a knife collection, a PS2, a cell phone, a pager, and a computer but you can't afford to get your car fixed.

One of your hangouts is a parking lot.

You can't get that sand out of your toes no matter how long it's been there.

You've seen a shack with a satellite dish.

You know that a Jug Handle is both a feature of the highway and a bar that looks like someone's house in Maple Shade.

You know of at least 3 bars where you know they won't card you.

You lived near a "crick" not a creek.

You don't recognize any one at your family reunion.

You say "gimme" instead of give me, or "com' mer" instead of come here.

You never could figure out which was the Black Horse Pike or The White Horse Pike.

You're a female and have beaten the crap out of at least one guy who wasn't your brother.

You ever taken your parents car while they were asleep or away, before you were old enough to drive.

You ever cut your foot on a broken bottle in a local stream.

You have gotten bad poison ivy from hiding in a bush to make weird noises at the people passing by.

There is a dead body somewhere in or near the stream by your house.

You have to drive at least 30-60 minutes to get to work in order to make more than $10 an hour.

You know that a "Yield" sign is merely a suggestion.

You've considered going to your high school late at night to check for ghosts in the halls rumoured haunted.

You think pit bulls are harmless.

You don't think you have an accent.

Half your high school went to Camden County College.

You know what the song "V-town" is about.

Your front yard is made out of stones.

Everything is "twenty minutes away". If you ask how long it takes to get any place in South Jersey, the person always says, "about twenty minutes". To get to a mall, "Oh, about 20 minutes". To get to the airport, "Mmm, about 20 minutes." To get from Runnemede to Philly, "Only about 20 minutes". Try it. Only the shore areas take more than "twenty minutes". They're usually "an hour and twenty minutes."

You've intentionally stood in front of the tram car, and you're upset that it no longer stutters.

You remember the old Morey's Pier before the fire.

Your parents gave in and bought you a hermit crab when you were down the shore.

You curse off three drivers in two minutes.

You went to StoryBook Land as a kid.

You haven't moved out of state soley for the reason you know the food is that bad everywhere else.

WHIPOORWILL!! WHIPOORWILL!!

You know the one-day sale at JC Penny's really lasts three.

You live in a "dry town" and every road out of it has a liquor store at the town border.

Every time someone in Hollywood makes fun of Jersey, you're mad and proud at the same time.

You know what the conductor is going to say for every stop on the PATCO HighSpeedline.

Your neighborhood has a name that ties people together, as in "the kids"

Your shoes have turned black from being in Pennsauken.

You know at least 5 people who work at a prison.

You say "porta reeko" instead of Puerto Rico, as it should be pronounced.

You go to college and describe where you live in reference to how far you are from Cherry Hill.

You come home from college for Christmas break and 75% of your HS graduating class is at the same diner you are at 3am.

You don't even care when you leave your door unlocked.

More than one of your friends has spent more than a week at your house.

Making left turns just doesn't feel right anymore.

You have a super secret place to sled that is better than anywhere else in town!

You remember The Garden State Race Track and the day it burnt to the ground and all the tons of ashes that fell for miles.

The only thing you can play on guitar is "Stairway to Heaven."

You were amazed Moorsetown was on MTV Cribs.

A member of your family does not have all of their teeth.

You had a birthday party at Xhilarama.

You're astounded when a friend that moves tells you theres not a Wawa nor CVS withen a 10 mile radius of them.

Going to New York is a huge trip but Philly is someplace to go when you're bored.

You think Amish people are amazing.

Your whole school knows when each water ice place opens, and the line goes on forever!

You would drop everything you were doing and run to the voting polls right now if you heard we were voting to make North and South Jersey separate states.

Summer is a process, not a season.

You've ever been to Wheaton Village.

You know which places were built on Indian burial grounds.

You remember Caldor.

You remember Clover.

You've had a dinner with your friends for less than $3.

You don't know that in every other state, people get their liscenses when they're 16.

Everyone you know has had Confirmation but never goes to church.

After seeing a movie at the Ritz, you hang out at Tunes and then play Scrabble at Coffeeworks.

You know all of the "back roads" to get everywhere and prefer them to the expressway.

You think a mountain is any landform taller than your house.

You know what a "shoe-bie" is and can pick one out at the beach.

You can name all the flavors of salt water taffy.

You know and can smell when it's low tide.

You remember the bad gypsy moth years.

You eat at restaurants that have locations I, II, III, IV, and V.

You know that you don't put ketchup on boardwalk fries.

You get three 50's in a row when you play skeeball.

Donald Trump is mentioned at least daily in your local paper.


You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from South Jersey.

Soooo cold....

I have been playing with this idea for almost 6 minutes now so hear me out.

I want a Slanket.

It just looks so comfy.