Saturday, November 21, 2009

Speaking of cats

I recently went to a website for the very first time because I can't really comment about a website without knowing exactly what it's all about because I know I hate it when someone has a snotty comment about something and when you ask them if they've ever seen/read/watched it and they say in a lofty tone that well, no not really but they're sure it's stupid and that's reason enough for offering an allegedly informed opinion.

ANYway. So I felt I needed to check out this cutesy website about cats. I like cats. I think they're funny. So I go to and there's some funny, funny photos of cats being, well, funny.

But there's something that just doesn't sit right with me. I'm talking about the spelling and grammar that these cats are supposedly using. Yeah, I GUESS it's supposed to be cutesy (I hate cutesy spelling. Hate. it.) but please. Anyone who has a cat and has observed cats doing cat things knows that cats are just too snooty and proper to have such atrocious spelling and grammar.

Do you REALLY think that a cat, a fastidious cat, would speak or spell like that? Cat's just don't speak and/or spell in Ebonics and ghetto-speak. They just don't. I believe cats would speak in a voice similar to Charles Emerson Winchester The Third. Just like my dog Lucy's voice is similar to Forrest Gump's voice. Even though she's a female. She still sounds like Forrest Gump.

On the other hand, I can believe DOGS would speak and spell funny. Because they're dogs. However, there isn't a website called with pictures of dogs doing funny dog stuff. But believe it or not, there IS a website called But it's all videos of hamsters and the hamsters aren't speaking in ghetto speak. Because they're hamsters. And everyone knows hamsters can't talk.


Friday, November 20, 2009

Identity crisis

These days, any time you sign up or register for something on the World Wide Web known as the Internet, you are required to choose a user ID and a password. And each ID and password requires a specific number of letters and numbers, some are case-sensitive and some are not. Some must be a combination of letters AND numbers, and some don't need to be a combination of letters AND numbers.

I spent the better part of this morning on the phone with "Sylvia" over in Mumbai or Punjab or wherever trying to figure out why I could not log in to my Verizon online account. This was after trying to navigating my way through the automated phone system that made me want to punch someone in the neck.

Verizon was refusing to recognize either my e-mail address or my phone address. I get told that I probably never registered for the online site (I could have SWORN I had several years ago when I first got Verizon but whatEVER). So now I have to register all over again. And I have to choose a new User ID and password. With all the rules about letter/number combos thrown in for shits and giggles. Oh, and they need the answer to a secret question, which was supposed to be the name of my 1st pet. Unfortunately, our first pet didn't have the minimum number of letters in his name so poor Siam was tossed aside.

Great. We're on a roll here. So I choose a user ID and password. "Sylvia" tells me to go ahead and log in. And guess what? No, not Chicken butt. Verizon doesn't recognize my spanking new user ID and/or password. Of course. Why? Because my new ID with its combination of letters and numbers is case-sensitive and "Sylvia" forgot to mention that important tidbit of information. Several tries later, I still wasn't able to log in using my new case-sensitive User ID and password and "Sylvia" told me to wait about an hour and try again. Which I have yet to do.

I have a little notebook where I write down all my User names and passwords for the various websites and accounts I have. If I ever lose that book, I'm utterly and completely screwed. Currently, I have about 20 accounts that all require User ID's and passwords. Everything from messageboard log-ins to bank accounts to medical insurance and cell phone accounts. Not to mention the multiple e-mail accounts I have for various (but not nefarious) purposes. And since you're not supposed to use the same ID and password, I've had to come up with 20 different User ID's and passwords, which is why I've had to write them down because there is no fucking way I can remember all that. I really need to make sure I keep that book in a safe place but at the rate I'm going, I'll forget where I stashed it.

And you wanna hear something funny? I can't remember my administrator ID and password for my very own website. Now that's bad right there. I *think* I have that info with all my paperwork for my bidness, DeJongh Racing, but I'm not positive on that.

All right. It's been over an hour. I need to see if I can log on to my Verizon account. I hope I can remember who I am.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

The Farnham Chronicles - "Tippy"

During the years of the Farnham Chronicles, i.e., the high school years, there was one person who played a very significant role in our lives. His name was Tom Tyra but we called him "Tippy." Tippy was the guy who brought The Band into our lives. He was at our house constantly, along with his younger brothers, Jim and Alan, aka "Meej and Noodle." These 3 were the closest thing we had to brothers, although there was a little more than sibling affection at times. Tippy used to joke that he and my sister, whose nickname is "Bippy," would get married so that Tippy and Bippy could have kids named "Ira and Myra Tyra. No middle names necessary."

Tippy was the type of guy who was always, ALWAYS having some sort of adventure. He used to walk in the door saying, "You'll never guess what happened to me!" And he always had a good story that would have us roaring with laughter. There's so many Tippy stories I wouldn't even know where to start.

We had a redwood hot tub in our backyard and Tippy loved to come over and soak in the hot tub. Didn't matter if we were home, he was pretty much family and could come and go as he pleased.

We spent a lot of time at Tippy's house as well, which was easy since it was jsut around the corner from our house. Tippy's room was covered with a collage of pictures. He had cut out of a magazine the life-size eyes of John Travolta and he would move the eyes around his room and it became a game while we were in there (getting stoned) to try and find Travolta's eyes.

When my parents divorced and put our house up for sale, Tippy was devastated. He used to steal the "For Sale" sign that was in front of the house in the hopes that if there wasn't a "For Sale" sign, nobody would know the house was for sale and then nobody would be able to buy the house and we wouldn't leave him. Sadly, the house did sell and Tippy was out of town when we moved out. He returned from his trip, not knowing we were gone and he had let himself into the backyard as usual and undressed and slipped into the hot tub, as usual. So Tippy's sitting there soaking and all of a sudden this lady comes out of the house and starts screaming at the big nekkid guy in the hot tub. "Who are you?" she screamed. "Who are YOU and where are the Perkins'?" Tippy screamed back, trying to cover himself. Poor Tippy found out the hard way that we had moved and he had just met the new owner of 3521 Farnham Avenue. Tres awkward to say the least.

After we left Farnham, our family lost touch with almost everyone from that time of our lives. Several years later, we reunited with Tippy at a friend's wedding. We spent hours reminiscing and then the next night we all had dinner together and laughed and laughed and laughed and did the "Do you remember?" game.

A few years after his 30th birthday party, Tippy passed away after a long illness. And with his death, an era, the Farnham era, came to a close.

Today would have been Tippy's 49th birthday. I think about him a lot and smile at the memories of our Tippy.