Archive for the ‘Whatever’ Category
For a reason I’ll not go into here I’ve been thinking now and again about Gene Gene the Dancing Machine. Gene Gene (Gene Patton) was one of the regulars on the ’70s TV game show The Gong Show, which was produced and hosted by Chuck “Chuckie Baby” Barris.
I intended to search online for video of Gene Gene, but the thought wasn’t occurring to me while I was using the computer.
A couple nights ago, though, I had just turned off my computer and come upstairs from my basement lair when I had the thought. Son #3 was still online, so I took a chance: “Hey [son #3], how would you like to search for a funny video?” To my surprise, he brought up YouTube and seconds later, we were convulsed in laughter watching Gene Gene, Chuckie Baby, and the celebrity panel of judges — sassy Jaye P. Morgan, Arte Johnson of Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In fame, and young David Letterman.
It’s Friday and therefore an especially good time to share this. You may not laugh, but you’ll be hard-pressed to suppress a smile.
Soon after viewing this clip with son #3, I convinced son #2 to take a look. The video kept freezing, so his reaction was understandably muted. Still, though, there is no doubt he liked it because he later told me he posted it on his Tumblr blog.
12 days later, Mrs. QC is still laughing about this … my moment at Famous Dave’s restaurant.
I had just ordered a combination platter featuring brisket and BBQ chicken. Our waiter asks me if I wanted white meat or dark meat chicken. I have a slight preference for white meat. But the waiter is black and, inexplicably, I find myself thinking, “Will I offend him if I order white meat?”
If you know me personally, you probably know how this turned out: “Uhhhh. I think I’ll go with the dark.”
Not a proud moment.
I overslept this morning and needed to hustle through my grooming routine so I could get son #2 to his school bus stop. I told Mrs. QC I thought I could be ready on time because I would be taking a dry head shower. That’s QC family lingo for omitting a shampoo. Including a shampoo is, naturally, a wet head shower.
As I hopped in the shower, carefully keeping my hair out of the path of the spraying water, I recalled the inspiration for these terms: It was a ’70s TV commercial for The Dry Look men’s hair spray. I made a mental note to look for the commercial online. I found it — of course. The Wethead is Dead!
Although I haven’t seen The Dry Look in years — or heard anyone mention it for that matter — Gillette still makes it! Who would have thought! You can get it in both classic aerosol and environmentally friendly pump forms. The aerosol is available in Regular Hold and Extra Hold strengths; the pump is available in Extra Hold and Maximum Hold strengths.
Gotta like the usage directions for The Dry Look, which are helpfully posted on the Amazon.com catalog pages for the product (to which I’ve linked above):
Comb hair into place. Hold container 6″ to 8″ from hair and spray. Works best on clean, dry hair.
Works best on clean, dry hair, eh? You don’t say …
This one falls in the realm of what my sons refer to as “Dad’s stupid stuff”. In the ’60s (mostly) there was this NBA player — an all-star — named Adrian Smith. His nickname is Odie.
So in the playground in my mind every athlete named Adrian becomes Odie.
I alternate between finding this irritating — and amusing.
The most prominent case currently is Adrian Peterson. I should say two cases because, as unlikely as it may seem, there are two Adrian — uh, Odie — Petersons in the NFL:
- Odie Peterson #1 is a star running back on the Minnesota Vikings
- The other Odie Peterson plays for the Chicago Bears and is also a running back.
While I was recently reading the excellent book Looking Back 75 Years of Eagles History: Special Edition by Eli Kowalski, which I received as a birthday gift from Mrs. QC, I was reminded that my favorite NFL team, the Philadelphia Eagles, once had a quarterback — back in the ’50s before I was born — named Adrian Burk. He shares the league record for most touchdown passes in a regular season game, 7, with four other quarterbacks. I’ve rewritten his tombstone, so to speak, to read “Odie Burk.”
As a roadgeek and a fan of road books and movies, I’ve long thought it would be cool to drive cross-country. So I waited with interest above and beyond the parental variety for the daily phone calls from my oldest son as he drove from our home in southeastern Pennsylvania across the country — nearly — to central Arizona where he is enrolling a few days from now as a college freshman.
His driving partner was his roommate-to-be. They arrived at their final destination last night after a week on the road.
Here is their route, covering 2,499 miles according to Google Maps, as near as I can tell from my son’s reports:
Their vehicle was my son’s 22-year old diesel sedan, packed to the gills, with 304,000+ miles on the odometer — that is, at the start of the trip. There were, as one would expect, concerns about the reliability of the car, but thankfully it didn’t give them any major trouble.
No major trouble, that is, except for the air conditioning, which gave out on the second day. That the A/C was leaking refrigerant was known before the trip. We didn’t expect it to last the whole trip. He charged it a few days before the trip, at my urging, with the hope and expectation it would last most of the trip. The eventual disappointment on that score made the trip much more of an endurance test — in my mind at least.
The July 9 issue of the Delaware Coast Press turned out to have a wealth of “blog fodder” — just what was needed to energize my moribund blog.
This, from that issue’s GRAPEVINE column, wherein DCP readers’ “comments and observations” are featured without attribution, is a real LOLer:
All my life, I have heard and read about the price of gas — per gallon. But it’s not the price for a whole gallon of gas, it’s for 9/10 of a gallon. You’re always cheated out of a 10th of every gallon of gas. Over your lifetime, that’s a lot of money these companies are making. Isn’t it time to get the federal government to get rid of that 10th and make them give us the full gallon?
This is like the parallel universe of gas consumption. A put-on? Probably. But very funny. Who would have thought the “9/10” on gas station price signs is a fraction of a gallon rather than a fraction of a cent? The answer: the writer of this GRAPEVINE submission.
Mowing season is arriving in QC-country, so this past Sunday my car’s parking accommodations switched from the cushy garage to the exposed driveway.
I’ve always locked my car overnight when it’s parked in the driveway. We’ve lived here since 1992. There’s “Black Beauty” right there:
But to lock it I either have to
- use the key
- close the driver’s door, open the same-side passenger door and then reach in and push down the lock button on the driver’s door.
A puzzling design decision — them Swedes are, um, quirky.
Anyway it’s a bit of a pain. So for this mowing season I got the notion I would leave the car unlocked overnight. The car is 15 years old, I don’t keep anything of significant value in it, and the neighborhood is pretty safe.
Last night Mrs. QC and I found ourselves on the way from Frazer, PA (Chee burger Chee burger) to Downingtown (Wegmans) via Lancaster Avenue, US 30. As we approached US 202, the Exton Bypass beckoned. If we wanted to stay on US 30, we would have to be seduced by the bypass’ call, for Lancaster Avenue becomes US 30 Business — “Business 30” as we call it — at that point and remains so until the expressway ends past Parkesburg about 20 miles to the west.
The Exton bypass is the newest expressway in the Delaware Valley — it opened about 10 years ago — and I’ve only had occasion to drive on it maybe ten times even though it’s only five miles south of my home.
I haven’t done much expressway driving in our relatively new car, so I said, “Let’s take the bypass and I’ll open this baby up.”
As we cruised over the southern edge of Exton at the breakneck speed of 65 mph, I experienced the same disconnect I’ve experienced most other times I’ve driven on the bypass: The distance covered on the bypass seems much greater than that covered by Business 30.
What a day brightener! Only minimal basketball knowledge is needed to enjoy this CBS Evening News clip (running time 2:45):
Thanks to my friend Pete S. for posting it on his Facebook profile.
An ESPN clip on McElway has more detail and the game footage is in color, but the cheesy music is distracting in my opinion — plus it’s twice as long as the one I’ve embedded. The detail I thought most interesting is that McElway actually missed not two but six shots. But that hardly detracts from his achievement.
I can imagine Tom McGinnis, the excitable Philadelphia 76ers radio play by play announcer, calling McElway’s hot streak. By McElway’s third three-pointer, you’d hear McGinnis’ trademark “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?”. The fifth would cause McGinnis’ head to explode — leaving you to deduce from the crowd reaction and buzzer that McElway hit a sixth to end the game.
Having previously treated readers to saliva nostalgia, here I one-up that with some reminiscing about vomit. Stop reading here if the mere thought of vomit makes you queasy.
As children my brother B. and I were required by our parents to wear wool coats to dress-up occasions — like visits to grandparents — during cold weather months.
B. suffered from motion sickness. The 75-minute drives to and from our maternal grandparents’ apartment allowed ample time for the sickness to kick in. I don’t know how many times — it seems like more than a few — dad would have to pull the car over to the shoulder so B. could hop out and vomit.
I remember one particular episode with spaghetti at a Sunoco gas station on the suburban side of Philadelphia’s City Avenue, aka “City Line”. Spaghetti was not the typical fare at my grandparents — the most common offerings were brisket and corned beef sandwiches (not in the same meal). As B showered the Sunoco tarmac, dad, mom, and I were impressed with the similarity of the vomited spaghetti’s appearance to that of the spaghetti served to us earlier in the evening.