I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Here's a thought (if you can call it that), if one dies of boredom, what do they put on your death cert as a cause?

"God, she was dull!"
"Monotony overdose"
"Struck down by tedium."
"Had no life to begin with.

I read the other day, an article about some of the things pilots overhear while sitting on the runway.

Here's a pretty good one--can't remember it verbatum, but I'll relay it the best I can:

TOWER: United 999, climb to 10,000 feet, you have a Fokker flying in to your right."

PILOT: Tower, I've always wanted to say this: I have the little Fokker in my sight."

Being as I've had genuine hillbilly's as my neighbours and all, I realize that many of my readers haven't a clue how to reckognize a redneck, so here's a redneck test:

You might be a redneck if:

YOU THINK SHERLOCK HOMLES IS A FANCY HOUSING PROJECT

YOU WEAR CONFEDERATE FLAG UNDERSHORTS

YOU USE ROADSIDE "DEER CROSSING" SIGNS AS PRACTICE TARGETS

YOU'VE HITCHIKED NAKED

YOUR FAVOURITE COMPETITION IS THE LOCAL TOBACCO SPITTING CONTEST

I read, not to long ago, that the wife of a duck hunter down Tennesse way, opened her 'fridge recently and got quite a shock.

Seems hubby shot some ducks and just tossed the carcasses in the refridgerator without bothering to gut and dress them. Well, the wife opened the 'fridge to pull one out, two days later, and it raised its head and looked at her.

The lady duck, named by the vet, "Perky," is going to make a full recovery, but will probably never fly again. The hunter and his wife are paying for the treatments.

Yes, here we are, another exciting weekend, alone in lovely downtown Glens Falls, NY on a winter Saturday. Oh gosh, what's the big event today? A book sale at the library! Whoo-hoo!

Actually, I'm going to the "bag sale" tommorrow--all the used books and whathaveyou, that you can stuff into a bag (and believe me, I can stuff a lot) for only 5 dollars--which is exactly the amount of spending money I have for the week.

Gah! I've got this really godawful case of cabin fever (what we northeasterners call it, when one has been cooped up too long indoors in the wintertime) and I'd give an arm and a leg--and part of the other arm--to be able to just...go somewhere. Anywhere. As long as it's not Glens Falls.

Don't get me wrong. I like Glens Falls, it's a nice little ciy, as little cities go. It's just that this apartment is getting smaller by the day, and a walk around the local shopping mall, or a trip to the library, just isn't cutting it for me at the mo'. I literally haven't been anywhere outside the ciy/suburb of Glens Falls in months, and I'm feeling it, a bit.

What I wouldn't give now, to be able to just hop in a car, plane or train, and just....GO.

Don't mistake me though, I'm not ungrateful...I'm just...bored. Bored to the point that I'm sitting here having Pringles and Pepsi for breakfast.

I do miss college--something new everyday--even the commuite, at least I was seeing the outside world as I was driving, listening to the news and whatnot on the radio. Now, I don't even have television, and can't get in my news station on the radio very well, here, as there's some type of interference.

I sort of miss the travel, as well. Hard to believe, sometimes. A homebody like me, seeing other countries--seems like a distant dream, now. Netherlands, Iceland, Egypt--don't know if I can count England--I was only in Heathrow for three hours or so--but now, it just seems so...impossible. I dunno', it's hard to explain.

Hell, even a trip "next door" to Vermont or Massachusetts would be welcome--even down to the capital city of Albany (and I grew up down there) would be a treat, right now.

I doubt I will ever even see New York City or Boston again, let alone more distant shores. I'm afraid I"m stuck. Stuck fast. Crazyglued to Glens Falls. Well, I guess there's worse things. I could be living in Toledo, Ohio. There's a song about that...

"Saturday night, in Toledo, Ohio, is like being nowhere at all. All through the day how the hours rush by--you sit in the park, and you watch the grass die...go visit the bakery and watch the bun's rise----...but let's not forget the dusk and the twilight, when shadows at night start to fall, They roll back the sidewalks percisely at ten, and people who live there are-not-seen-a-gain...just two lonely truckers from Great Falls, Montana, and a salesman from places unknown--all huddled together in downtown Toledo-----to spend their big night all alone!"

I went back into work at five, to a light snowfall--came out at 10 to nearly four inches of the light fluffy stuff...very pretty, coating the trees and streetlights. Walking down the street to relative silence--odd seeming, in a city, with nothing more than the "scrunch-scrunch" of my snow boots, the sudden heavy scraping of metal on pavement, as the snowplow goes by, orange light flashing against the snow covered gingerbread bushes and trees and porch railings. Once, I heard the sound of two young girls, giggling on a side street, somewhere, their echos probably making them sound farther away then they really were. Winter is finally here--we can all sigh and rest easy.

There was the usual sight of a big ol' pick up truck hauling a snowmobile trailer, hustling out of the city towards in the direction of the state snowmoblie trails up in Lake Luzerne and Lake George. We have, mind less than four inches (under, I think 10 centemeters) of snow--not a lot, but I've seen these rednecks on their snowmobiles out when there was only 2 inches of snow on the ground--even in the mud! I dunno', I'm old fashioned, myself. I prefer snowshoes and horses--but, that said, wouldn't say no to a ride--provided the person you were with was actually sober, mind. In the Adirondacks, it's not unusual for snowmobilers to follow the trails from one bar to the other, not fun--and heaven help you if you live near a trail--think roaring thunder mixed with a zillion whining misquitoes and you have the sound of a snowmobilers--often in droves-- at 4 am, going by your front yard--drunk. Fun, fun fun! Life in the country isn't always quiet, by the way.

SNOWMOBILERS NEAR LAKE GEORGE, NY

So, I finally got 'round to finishing watching the Friday Night Project with David Tennant--and lo' and behold, what was on--a bit where Mr. Tennant admits that Billie Piper does indeed call him..well, you know.

I'm trying to picture this young bloke at a disco, coming on to some drooling fan girl: "Hi love, I'm David Tennant. But you can call me David Ten-inch." Whereupon he whips out his woo-hoo and waves it at her. "Isn't it lovely?"

Whoops! Am I being crude? Sorry. I'm so very rarely crude--honest, it's true, but I just can't seem to help it, tonight.

I guess I'm either coming out of my depression, or overcompensating (something, apparently, our Mr. Tennant doesn't have to worry about), by getting stupidly silly.

Okay, well if I must, for once, be crude, I will add this:

There's no denying David Tennant's a fine actor. Which leaves one to wonder, and, if you really object to crude humor, don't read further.

But it leaves one to wonder--if "size" has any relation to talent, Sir Lawerence Oliver must be very well endowed indeed.

("Endowed" wasn't my orginal choice of word, btw, it's just that I'm still enough of an old maid to cringe at the thought of offending any of my friends.)