Halloween

The Smoked Salmon has decided on her Halloween costume: Sexy Hamster.

The Dude

My housemate was watching Dr. Strangelove the other day. I pointed out some of the characters were based on historical figures. As house old man, I fogie out like this often. I feel it's my job. Never one for subtly, the housemate took this to mean the movie itself was a non fictional, historical reenactment. At the end of the film, when there is a nuclear holocaust, he asked me if that happened as well. I explained that the Cold War blessedly never went hot, and the human race avoid annihilation from the entire period from the end of WWII to 1989. He nodded, taking note of the information.

Bad Dog

I just saw a commercial where a stoner High School girl enters her kitchen and her dog, speaking in English, asks her to stop smoking pot. The dog whines and whines asking the girl where his best friend went, why does she have to smoke pot, why can't she stop, bla, bla, bla... The girl looks ashamed and sulks into the adjoining room.

This exact thing happened to me in High School too. When my dog asked me to stop smoking pot, I just said I'll stop smoking pot when you stop eating poop. That shut him up for a few years.

Panic

Lead of 1.5 games. Can one New Englander adhere to convention and round up? The Sox brass seems to be employing the Rocky Balboa strategy--disinterested in the division race, assuming at least a wild card, and resting key players while the league tires from pummeling us. The thing is we have no control and Sox management does. We are passengers on a Jet Blue flight and the pilot has let lose and circled the Hamptons*, upside down, while in line to land at JFK. We're freaking out! We must resort to time honored superstition to regain a false, but therapeutic sense of power over our own destiny. In said tradition, I recant the reference to "teaching a class" in the last post and admit that I am only a Teaching Assistant with a lab section. I was assisting the teaching of a class.


*Hallowed birthplace of Yaz--worthless sandy suburb and totally inferior to the Maine coast in all ways

House Senior (Official)

I thought that while the Smoked Salmon is off in glamorous NYC, I'd squander the remains of my youth and good looks down here. However what remains to be squander has recently been called into question. My early 20s German girl housemate announced the other day that she was going to "make party," and suggested it might be best for me to be working late during party. I protested, and she explained she'd love it if I attended party, but she was scared I'd think her and her guests were just "silly little girls." Naturally, I was the first to arrive at the party. Her friends were mainly Brazilian community college students. When they think of partying they think of drinking three shots of tequila and dancing. And when they think of dancing... Well how do I explain this? When I think of throwing a baseball I think of an arm based action. When they think of dancing they think of a butt based action. So the Brazilians arrived, dancing commenced, and Timberlake blasted into the wee hours. I had a class to teach in the morning and was in bed by 11; but word of the party has spread to the boys in New York, and the next time we make party we may include a recently divorced contingent to the usual mix.

Red Sox Senior Epidemiologist (Unofficial)

Tito chose to sit Mike Lowell to keep his intestinal bug from sweeping through the clubhouse. We here at BFC couldn't agree more. Quarantine can be the best form of medicine.

Could it be that Baltimore is entering a neoclassical phase? Well, a repressed but lovably quirky Pakistani-American friend of mine was awoken the other night by the sounds of a woman crying out in pain, she thought. What did it turn out to be? You guessed it. She peeked out the window and saw an interracial homosexual couple doing it by the light of the street lamp. I asked the woman if she woke up her husband, and she said, "No, we're in a fight."

Remember boys, this aint 21BC anymore. Be safe.

Buchholz (Bonzai in German, archaic)

Check out this scatter plot of Buchholz's pitches in his no-no. It may say more about the Red Sox fans who made it, than our pitcher but nonetheless it's cool. Note to Schilling: never shake off Varitek. Thanks to ws and ar.

BFC as Wine Sommelier

BFC: I converse with the wine through taste and smell. [BFC takes a healthy sip from his wine glass, shifts the wine between his cheeks like a tennis ball bounding between courts. Then he swallows deeply, darkly, deeply. BFC emerges from a trance like state and speaks again.]

BFC: I also listen to the wine.

BFC: [BFC turns his head and presses his ear to the wine glass. He then lowers the glass and faces you again.] The wine says the beauty of this evening is matched only by your own beauty.

BFC: [He presses his ear to the wine glasses again, and again he looks up.] The wine says one of your breasts is larger than the other, but I find them both stunning, especially the larger one.

BFC: [Again he listens to the wine and looks up.] The wine says you have an illegitimated half brother from an affair of your father's 32 years ago. Don't worry, your father extricated himself from the relationship, and the young mother never tracked him down. Your half brother is a carny, not a performer, but the guy who puts up the tents. He is quite respected in his field.