Looks like the Cook-Book
is finally on-line... Welcome to the Web Mr. Henny!
Mar 31, 2006
Mar 29, 2006
Portland Rocks!
Q: Why'd the lush move to Portland?
A: Cause he couldn't afford a place in Cognacopolis!
Serious though. I joke because I love.
I
PORTLAND!
Portland is located in the proud state of Oregon (not just a delicious spaghetti sauce flavouring anymore folks, oh no! Now it's a full-blown state, and that's one bill away from a being a COUNTRY! Gad-Zooks!) and has a population of 37 million. Oregon is on the south-western tip of the USA, and is the home of such famous people as:
Whammo!
Wazzaaap!
and
Beverly Cleary, beloved children’s novelist and author of the Ramona Quimby books.
Moreover and heretofore, if it wasn't for Portland we wouldn't have such things as the Fosbury Flop, which looks like this:
The Fosbury shattered the record book and all but reinvented the sport of high-jump in 1968.
'And that's it', you say? 'Portland doesn't seem that awesome'...
Well no, I guess it wouldn't, considering you have yet to consider the fact that a little company called NIKE started not too far away in Beaverton, Oregon.
Yeah, that's right. That Nike. With the:
and the:
and the:
Yeah I know, Portland is seeming kind of amazing now isn't it? Thinking you spoke too soon? Portland agrees.
Portland doesn't even want me to tell you about:
The Captain William Clark Monument
Which just so happens to be sculpted by the same artist who created the Martin Luther King Jr. Monument, and depicts a Native American, Clark and his black slave York, who accompanied the Lewis & Clark Expedition.
Portland doesn't want you to know about the CWC Monument because Portland doesn't really want you to like it at this point. Portland thinks you're smug.
PORTLAND: Yeah, fuck you.
LEO: Whoah whoah there tough guy! Watch what you're saying to the Leo fanbase there Portland.
PORTLAND: Fuck you too bub, what have you done for me lately? I am a bloody state capital! I have been compared favorably to such world renowned cities as:
Houston!
and:
Nashville!
LEO: Oh please, this is getting pathetic.
LOL ADMIN: STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU! I have made it clear that I love you both, so you are just going to have to find a way to get along.
LEO: Like what do you suggest?
PORTLAND: I don't know, it's your site Mr Movie Star.
LOL ADMIN: That's it!
A: Cause he couldn't afford a place in Cognacopolis!
Serious though. I joke because I love.
I
PORTLAND!Portland is located in the proud state of Oregon (not just a delicious spaghetti sauce flavouring anymore folks, oh no! Now it's a full-blown state, and that's one bill away from a being a COUNTRY! Gad-Zooks!) and has a population of 37 million. Oregon is on the south-western tip of the USA, and is the home of such famous people as:
Whammo!
Wazzaaap!
and
Beverly Cleary, beloved children’s novelist and author of the Ramona Quimby books.
Moreover and heretofore, if it wasn't for Portland we wouldn't have such things as the Fosbury Flop, which looks like this:
The Fosbury shattered the record book and all but reinvented the sport of high-jump in 1968.
'And that's it', you say? 'Portland doesn't seem that awesome'...
Well no, I guess it wouldn't, considering you have yet to consider the fact that a little company called NIKE started not too far away in Beaverton, Oregon.
Yeah, that's right. That Nike. With the:
and the:
and the:
Yeah I know, Portland is seeming kind of amazing now isn't it? Thinking you spoke too soon? Portland agrees.
Portland doesn't even want me to tell you about:
The Captain William Clark Monument
Which just so happens to be sculpted by the same artist who created the Martin Luther King Jr. Monument, and depicts a Native American, Clark and his black slave York, who accompanied the Lewis & Clark Expedition.
Portland doesn't want you to know about the CWC Monument because Portland doesn't really want you to like it at this point. Portland thinks you're smug.
PORTLAND: Yeah, fuck you.
LEO: Whoah whoah there tough guy! Watch what you're saying to the Leo fanbase there Portland.
PORTLAND: Fuck you too bub, what have you done for me lately? I am a bloody state capital! I have been compared favorably to such world renowned cities as:
Houston!
and:
Nashville!
LEO: Oh please, this is getting pathetic.
LOL ADMIN: STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU! I have made it clear that I love you both, so you are just going to have to find a way to get along.
LEO: Like what do you suggest?
PORTLAND: I don't know, it's your site Mr Movie Star.
LOL ADMIN: That's it!
Mar 3, 2006
Mi Casa, Su Casa
'B' is for Brain
'L' is for Address
'O' is for
'G' is for Grimy
'A' is for Assured
'S' is for Subway
'S' is for
I thought I would open today's blog with an unfinished acrostic I call 'BlogAss'. It's hard when there are two S's.
Rock Hard.
I was all set to blog you today about the 10,000th hit this delicious web-haven just received (more than twice as many as Pete Rose, BTW), when I realized there is something far more pressing I need to address. Did I find this new information on the computer? NO! How about on the web? NO! How about on ESPN.com? Hell, NO!
Where then, could I have found it?
Well friends, it was tucked inside...
The folds of my own brain!
I used something called 'Critical Thinking Skills' to facilitate this new information. I started with a thought:
I Love Ninja Turtles.
I then, and this is the part that uses Critical Thinking, let that thought turn into another thought:
I Want to Live With Them.
This second though then blossomed like a hot-house flower into a million micro-thoughts that settled in and around the folds of my brain, and formed a question:
WTF* Do Those Guys Live?
(*WTF stands for 'Where The Fuck', I'm in touch with the youth culture).
Really though, when they go down that hole where do they end up?
Do they sleep on the subway tracks? Keeping one ear on the rail so they might warn their fellow Turtles at the first sign of an approaching train? Does the hole teleport them in some fashion? Perhaps to somewhere in the desert? No, no , no and no!
When they dive down the hole they go to: CASA-BUNGA!
Casa Bunga is a place where the Turtles can relax and get away from the stress of battling thugs, goons and henchmen.
There is no hate at Casa Bunga. In fact, last time it was tested it was completely free of negativity, sarcasm, snideness, and mean. It is filled with only one emotional oxygen-substitute (Turtles breathe feelings): LOVE!
Casa Bunga is so pleasant that it actually floats 3 inches off the ground most days, and makes the Turtles feel so loved that they smile even when they are fighting (bad guys, never each other!)
So even though the Turtles may be out of the spotlight (for now) rest assured that they are not lying with their cute green faces pressed against grimy subway tracks in the underbelly of NYC.
Instead, they are laying out at Casa Bunga, soaking up the rays and laughing about their old crime-fighting days. And that is where you will find them, until they are called on again, which, I might mention, will be sooner than you think (believe me, I'm in touch with the youth culture).
--------------------------------
LOL ADMIN>
'L' is for Address
'O' is for
'G' is for Grimy
'A' is for Assured
'S' is for Subway
'S' is for
I thought I would open today's blog with an unfinished acrostic I call 'BlogAss'. It's hard when there are two S's.
Rock Hard.
I was all set to blog you today about the 10,000th hit this delicious web-haven just received (more than twice as many as Pete Rose, BTW), when I realized there is something far more pressing I need to address. Did I find this new information on the computer? NO! How about on the web? NO! How about on ESPN.com? Hell, NO!
Where then, could I have found it?
Well friends, it was tucked inside...
The folds of my own brain!
I used something called 'Critical Thinking Skills' to facilitate this new information. I started with a thought:
I Love Ninja Turtles.
I then, and this is the part that uses Critical Thinking, let that thought turn into another thought:
I Want to Live With Them.
This second though then blossomed like a hot-house flower into a million micro-thoughts that settled in and around the folds of my brain, and formed a question:
WTF* Do Those Guys Live?
(*WTF stands for 'Where The Fuck', I'm in touch with the youth culture).
Really though, when they go down that hole where do they end up?
Do they sleep on the subway tracks? Keeping one ear on the rail so they might warn their fellow Turtles at the first sign of an approaching train? Does the hole teleport them in some fashion? Perhaps to somewhere in the desert? No, no , no and no!
When they dive down the hole they go to: CASA-BUNGA!
Casa Bunga is a place where the Turtles can relax and get away from the stress of battling thugs, goons and henchmen.
There is no hate at Casa Bunga. In fact, last time it was tested it was completely free of negativity, sarcasm, snideness, and mean. It is filled with only one emotional oxygen-substitute (Turtles breathe feelings): LOVE!
Casa Bunga is so pleasant that it actually floats 3 inches off the ground most days, and makes the Turtles feel so loved that they smile even when they are fighting (bad guys, never each other!)
So even though the Turtles may be out of the spotlight (for now) rest assured that they are not lying with their cute green faces pressed against grimy subway tracks in the underbelly of NYC.
Instead, they are laying out at Casa Bunga, soaking up the rays and laughing about their old crime-fighting days. And that is where you will find them, until they are called on again, which, I might mention, will be sooner than you think (believe me, I'm in touch with the youth culture).
--------------------------------
LOL ADMIN>
Mar 1, 2006
ANOTHER
Hello Helios!
'Where you been?' humans always ask me. 'Why don't you blog anymore?'. 'Blog you don't blog anymore' they say to me. The nerve!
Well helio-blogs, after wrapping the Olympics earlier this week, the truth is that I am a little tapped out. If I was a cashew nut I would be skinless and half digested by the roasting juices of your deep and unclean bowels. Or something.
But I wanted to write a blog today because it has been far too long, and if I didn't write something soon, I feared you might start visiting sites like this one, this one and this one instead of the mighty Salad Army, and we can't have that. Maybe the last one, but definitely not the first two. Fuck the first two!!!
LEO: So what is this post about Marto?
Good question Leonard. Fine question, the better question, however, is what isn't this blog about.
LEO: Oh fuck, here we go...
Chill, I'm only kidding. I wouldn't do that at such a critical and fragile time in my relationship with the helio-blogs. That would be unresponsible. What is unresponsible you say? Well chipmunks, I am glad you asked...
LEO: That's it, I'm leaving you.
Okay, no seriously, I'm kidding, relax. Someone is strung up pretty tight today. The real answer to your question is that this post is about:
HANDSHAKES!
LEO: What about them?
Well that's precisely my point Leo, what about them?
LEO: You're pushing it.
I'm serious, people shake hands every day, to close deals, be sporting, or say hello. But what do all those handshakes do. Or rather, what do they mean?
LEO: You've lost me.
Well consider this, friend. A shake is just a shake, and yet it is always more than a shake. For example, you can shake like this:
But that shake might mean something like this:
Or even this:
Kind of makes you think, doesn't it?
LEO: No, it doesn't.
Yeah, well, what about this shake?
And this one?
And this one!
And this one!
And this one!
LEO: What are you trying to prove?
Fine, forget it. There goes another.
---------------------
LOL ADMIN>
'Where you been?' humans always ask me. 'Why don't you blog anymore?'. 'Blog you don't blog anymore' they say to me. The nerve!
Well helio-blogs, after wrapping the Olympics earlier this week, the truth is that I am a little tapped out. If I was a cashew nut I would be skinless and half digested by the roasting juices of your deep and unclean bowels. Or something.
But I wanted to write a blog today because it has been far too long, and if I didn't write something soon, I feared you might start visiting sites like this one, this one and this one instead of the mighty Salad Army, and we can't have that. Maybe the last one, but definitely not the first two. Fuck the first two!!!
LEO: So what is this post about Marto?
Good question Leonard. Fine question, the better question, however, is what isn't this blog about.
LEO: Oh fuck, here we go...
Chill, I'm only kidding. I wouldn't do that at such a critical and fragile time in my relationship with the helio-blogs. That would be unresponsible. What is unresponsible you say? Well chipmunks, I am glad you asked...
LEO: That's it, I'm leaving you.
Okay, no seriously, I'm kidding, relax. Someone is strung up pretty tight today. The real answer to your question is that this post is about:
HANDSHAKES!
LEO: What about them?
Well that's precisely my point Leo, what about them?
LEO: You're pushing it.
I'm serious, people shake hands every day, to close deals, be sporting, or say hello. But what do all those handshakes do. Or rather, what do they mean?
LEO: You've lost me.
Well consider this, friend. A shake is just a shake, and yet it is always more than a shake. For example, you can shake like this:
But that shake might mean something like this:
Or even this:
Kind of makes you think, doesn't it?
LEO: No, it doesn't.
Yeah, well, what about this shake?
And this one?
And this one!
And this one!
And this one!
LEO: What are you trying to prove?
Fine, forget it. There goes another.
---------------------
LOL ADMIN>
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