Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about candy, Lady Ada, and your Auntie.

Well hello there, fancy people! I'm back from my trip to the great Western New York, and while I had another outstanding time, I really missed you guys! It's nice once in awhile to be able to take a break from the things you're puttin' up with on the reality side...but I'm back in my positive element, ready to break heads with words in a place where I can concentrate on just that (well, that and the distraction level...here it's all on me).

I enjoyed my "fall break"...I ate my favorite meal the whole freakin' time (various turkey and stuffing combos...the dinner, the late night sandwiches, the stuffing...lots of stuffing...almost all the stuffing); chicken wings, hot roast beef sandwiches...c'mon y'all, don't make me get all "Buffalo menu" on y'all! I'd be here for days tryna capitalize on the sensation of local food.

I also got to watch hockey and football on screens bigger than this here Toshiba laptop, did well (16/20, with a little help) on some barroom trivia, and hung out with my man Cullen for his 8th birthday. Homie's got Spina Bifida, but as soon as he sees me we're down for whatever. I walked in to his party and he was all like "What'd you do today? Why are you here?" and I was like "'cuz yer gettin' old!". Then he tried to lay down on me, which would've worked if I'd napped right away (and I was so ready to), but hey, Cullen's my boy like that, and what he says goes when I'm around. His friends on the other hand...hey, I'm not here to judge or anything, but they're jerks. Coulda done more stuff if I wanted to, but let him do his thing with his friends. I'm sure I'll get another chance to chill with him soon enough where he'll school me in video games many adults (like myself, and I use the word "adult" loosely) don't even bother with anymore, like GTA: V or Call Of Duty or whatever "shoot 'em up" Xbox games he's into now. All I know is there's now a serious need for me to have a birthday party soon, because kids rake in cash and useful stuff like it's no big deal; meanwhile I'm gettin' screwfaced from other kids because "hey, here's a fiver 'cuz I barely know ya, I'm a poor college student, and what the frig else do you need that you can't get for $5 at the age of eight?". Turns out there's a lot of shit, and I'm so illy-prepared in the pre-teen eyes to make a difference in their world. But fuck it; thanks to my mom for busting out a birthday card for someone who was having a get-together that I didn't even know I was going to until I got to WNY. So yay for birthdays! I do regret that I didn't give myself a chance to dive into his pizza and wings. I swear fo' gawd, you can feed me chicken wings 24/7 when I'm home and I'll be happyfied...unless it's turkey dinner weekend, in which case I'll still be happyfied, because that was awesome.

Anyway...these prompts, before I go back into my daily grind...

"Let's talk about Halloween candy. Favorite, worst, or fond memories of a particular treat - share with us."

Yes...yes, let's talk about this, because I love me some candy.

All kidding aside, let's get this outta the way: I'm all for taking kids trick-or-treating, because then I can inspect the candy to make sure I get all the Reese's peanut butter cups no jackass put needles or staples up in that sugary goodness. There's some sick fucks out there I guess in the candy-making business who still manage to get by all the security protocols long enough to dump a few boxes of office supplies (you know, all the shit that gets stolen from your employers on the premise that they make boatloads of cash and won't miss some paper clips, based on the advent that you might need 'em someday) into the nougat machine. I don't get this concept at all, but it was enough of a "big scare" when I was a kid that trick-or-treating was off the table for a few years. Who in their right mind cares enough about their religion to buy some bags of candy to hand out at Halloween, but first takes the time to jam staples or needles in 'em? Who sits there all like, "These pagan kids are gonna feel the wrath of GAWD when they get through with me! Celebratin' their lack of Jesus...not on my lawn!!" Seriously? Westboro Baptist Church is on line one, and they need a new pastor. How about...don't buy the candy, turn your porch light off, and actually read that bible, with its verses of acceptance for all and not poisoning little kids who don't know any better and are just lookin' for a good time with some free candy on the side? Be a good sport or don't be a sport at all, nutjobbers of the world.

And hey, before I get too overzealous, you people giving out fruit and/or pennies...stop that! Don't be a dick. We didn't show up on your porch for preaching, financial wisdom, or fruits. Fucking fruits! I know apples are in season and all, and they're healthy...but thanks for giving out the one thing a sewing needle could very easily be bitten into, ya classless fucks. Halloween is for the kids, not your religious revenge theorisms. That goddamned apple in my treats bag didn't stop me from overindulging on the sugar until I puked, so what's the point? Be a good neighbor, ask me gently to mow your lawn, and bake me a fucking pie instead! Win-win, y'all! Who doesn't love a well-earned apple pie? Beats luggin' an apple in your costumed booty bag, that's fo' sho'.

BCF PROMPT: "Today is Ada Lovelace Day. I bet you are wondering who she is...I'll give you one hint~ She's Lord Byron's daughter Augusta Ada Byron, and she was raised by her mother Annabelle. She is a powerful symbol for womanhood. Do you know what she is noted for doing? Did you know about this woman? Did you know October 14th was celebrated in her honor? If you would rather talk about her famous father I would love to read that too."

That's a goddamned mouthful of a prompt if I've ever seen one. And full disclosure here: before I jumped on Google to sound like I knew what I was talking about, I Lyn's a sly fox 'd up my knowledge in confirmation of what I learned in my Intro To Prog (as in programming, and unfortunately not progressive rock) class...Lady Ada is the mother of computer programming. She worked with...(and don't make me dig out my notebook to come up with his name...the dude who realized he could invent a computer to do all his work for him make and hold calculations- Charles Babbich? Babbage? Can't quite remember the spelling, but they sound similar)...yeah, that guy. She invented the basis for coding. And as much as my teacher drilled her into our heads the last few weeks, I highly doubt we'll be getting cupcakes in our next class in celebration of this very day or discovery.

Truthfully, I didn't know today was her birthday (then again, I don't know when any of your birthdays are unless Facebook tells me it is or Charlie ~ sends out his chunk of BCOF-sponsored birthday truthisms). Well job Charlie, by the way...thanks for keeping me updated on the b-days of members who are no longer active in the BCOF .

Seriously though, this internet y'all know and take for granted wasn't just put there...Lady Ada created the basis for it. Fuck Al Gore and his "I invented the internet" rhetoric...that's cute Albert, but tell your internet how The StoryMaster and The StoryMistress should make something that allows us to interface with, oh, I dunno, the world, and let it be so palatable. Can't, huh Al? It's called "code", brah...and thank/praise the woman who thought it was so necessary well before we even thought computers were necessary.

It looks better when it's bigger. Resizing sucks.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

** Image ID #2010042 Unavailable **

Davy Jones y'all...just like all the pretty (and not-so-pretty) girls of the 60's said. Or thought. Davy Jones. Prop me up against a thorned bush before I start gettin' dreamy.

I'm not ashamed to admit my very first concert was The Monkees, with 'Weird Al' Yankovic opening (but if you ask me about my first concert, I'll tell you Metallica, with Danzig and Suicidal Tendencies). It was the height of their mid-80's cash grab, slurping on the notoriety of their TV show gettin' play on Nickelodeon and MTV, rerun-style. Then you go back, as a kid, into your mom's vinyl collection, and see just how much she loved them based on what she wrote on the album jackets. No kid that age needs to be disturbed by that, Davy Jones and your mushroom haircut...or your weird British 80's mullet.

Anyway...

Before my aunt passed, she'd fly us out to Connecticut for a week, and take us on amazing adventures. And one happened to be the Monkees on a rotating stage. It was the coolest...got to see them close, playin' the hits, and compared concert programs with this dorky girl that sat next to me in the 6th grade who didn't believe that I actually got to see The Monkees (which, in hindsight, was better than sitting next to the Bon Jovi groupie-wannabe). OMFG shut up.

Fast-forward to this week, when this happened:

Usually when I go to Walmart, nothing good comes from it. But they had this package, which is the first five Monkees albums on cd for $20. Five for $20! That's a tremendous deal! And the sleeve for each cd is a reproduction of the original album art, front and back! I know I'm not the only one who gets excited about this kinda stuff!

So here's your Monkees song as part of the "Resurrection Jukebox" . I'm not goin' with the obvious choices...that's not me. The deep cuts are where it's at.

"I know she's having a fit;
she doesn't like me a bit."
Lyrics.  

THE DAILY BOX SCORE:

My dear UK friends, can you verify this selection of American foods   at your local grocery store for me? And may I add...the American diet does not solely consist of candy, Pop Tarts and peanut butter (despite the fact that mine does). There's gotta be a way for decent hot dogs (because not all hot dogs are considered equal, for good reason) and maybe some Crunch 'n Munch   to make it into your displays.

And then there's this proof that I'm basically a grumpy old man  . It's legit...I'm pretty much all of these things, wrapped in a sorta catchy 39-year-old shell. If women my age can become crazy cat ladies, I'll forever resign myself to being that guy who's always warning the kids on the sidewalk to stay off his lawn. Even if I don't currently have a lawn.

And whaddya know...looks like we've got ourselves a blog entry here! Now to figure out what to do with the rest of my day...peace, no bird of grace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!

I'll take beef candy...oh wait, that's called jerky.