Cheeky's Hideaway

On the Internet, Nobody Knows You're a Dog

Not long ago I was speaking with a blogger friend who has a secret identity.

He has a day job.

As it turns out, he writes for a very well-read publication.  His opinions are read by millions of people.  People make purchase decisions based on what he tells them.

But you wouldn't know it from his blog.  And that's by design.

Anonymity has it's advantages. 

It's hard to talk about the incompetents you work with--with their awkward social skills and comically silly mustaches--if you think they might read about it someday.

It's worrisome to talk about your child's favorite playground when some sicko might triangulate the location and show up in a fishnet shirt to do "pull-ups" on the monkey bars.

I made a decision early on to share my blog with everyone I knew; half my comments in the first few months were from my family and colleagues.  But I sometimes regret that decision, because I censor myself to protect people's feelings or avoid topics that I know are sensitive.  No one is asking me to...I just feel like I should.

It's ironic that the better people know me, the less I can be myself.

It's not like my blog persona is some fictional creation.  I openly share my feelings about religion, politics, and culture, and you don't have to drive the Mystery Machine to figure out my name, where I live, and how much cheese I consume daily (I'll save you the effort:  9.5 lbs).   I don't lose any sleep over what I write, unless I don't get the sweet, sweet validation of your comments.

But there are times I wish I was just a little more anonymous.

So how about you?  How secret do you keep your identity?  Do you ever hold back out of fear of being dooced?  Do you even think about it?

Sense...

I've been too tired, busy, and unmotivated to write anything this week, so let me offer you this instead.

The Perplexingly Busy Days of Summer

I'm tired today.  Drained.  My shoulder muscles are hammocks drooping lazily from my humerus and scapula.  All my mind can concentrate on is how it's not concentrating on anything.  One of those days.

I'm smack dab in the middle of a calendar so marked up with events, visitations, and assorted activities you'd think I was a McCain campaign adviser.  It's been fun, but it feels a lot like a Japanese game show.

It kicked off earlier this month when my stepsister-in-law rented a converted warehouse in Queens, ordered some heaping trays of candied-bacon balls, and wed the nice Jewish doctor of every New York girl's clichéd fantasy.  The wedding wasn't without it's hitches, but that didn't keep us from dancing until we collapsed in the back of a cab at 2 AM. 

Suddenly we were on our way to NoFo to see "The Girls", three exhaustingly precocious nieces spending an extended weekend with their father.  Everyone spent hours in the pool while I huddled in a dark corner room, reviewing spreadsheets and internet strategies over the phone because stupid Independence Day couldn't commit to a weekend.  We had to be back home by Thursday so I could accept delivery of Excalibur, and by Friday were already planning on hosting an extended sleepover with my brother-in-law.

(Before I continue, I should remind my faithful readers that we, in fact, have no social life to speak of.  Reruns of Entourage are a big night for us)

So he's with us for two days, chillin'.  He leaves, and hours later we've got dinner guests, who, befitting their status as food bloggers, brought pizza.

Monday night.  Board meeting.  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Last night the Loyal Order of NYC Parent Bloggers had it's semi-annual drunkfest meeting.  Attendance was high, with the usual suspects joined by new faces and others previously feared dead or captured.  Much, much better than the board meeting, due largely to the all the dead guys.

And tonight, my brother, fresh off his tour of duty, arrives.  For a week. 

Oh, did I mention i have to fly to Detroit tomorrow?  Yeah, that too, just for good measure.

This summer feels a lot like tubing.  It's moving fast, lots of fun, but it's gonna leave me sore come August.

I Freakin' Hate Penguins

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time we face a growing menace which is threatening our collective sanity and ripping at the very fabric of our society. 

It is time we exterminated the penguins.

They may appear to be silly, harmless creatures, but there's an insidious scheme at work to infiltrate our culture and wrestle the mantle of Most Obnoxiously Over-Hyped Animal from the dinosaurs.

I used to give them little more than a passing thought.  I'd see them at the zoo and think stupid bird can't even fly they're great swimmers and sorta funny.  Then I'd move on to the otters. 

I live in New York.  They live at the South Pole.  There are no direct flights.  Everyone is happy.

Then came March of the Penguins, and I thought, "Wow, that's interesting...I didn't know that."

Then came Happy Feet, and I thought, "How stupid do they think we are?"  (The answer?  "Very."  And they were right.)

I started seeing penguins everywhere.  On Elmo and Dora.  In the playoffs.  In hallucinations. 

Now, they're surfing. 

I'm an environmentalist at heart, and have never before called for the eradication of an entire species (except for unicorns, but they had it coming).  But they've gone too far.  We're sitting on a stockpile of weapons, and they can't run for shit.   

I say we nuke the bastards before they start hosting their own talk shows.  We missed our opportunity with Rosie...let's not make the same mistake twice.
 

Wetness Protection Program

Holy crap, did you see the storm that hit us this weekend?  Everything was all sunny and warm(ish) on Saturday, then WHAM! I was counting animals marching two-by-two down our street.  (They didn't get far...they were blocked by double-parked delivery trucks.)  At one point, when we were debating whether there was any logic in leaving the apartment, I checked out the online radar.  It was the first time I'd pulled it up and seen the entire screen filled with green.  I had to zoom out until Ohio was on the map before I saw a break in the storm.  Brutal!

And it's still

freakin'

raining.

So we spent yet another weekend couped up in the apartment.  Cheeky and Oodgie at least had a week in the open plains (note to self: crush sleeping pills and pour into sippy-cup before next flight with Cheeky) so they at least recalled fresh air.  I spent a little too much of Bachelor Week with kung fu movies on the couch to register much of that.

The good news is that I'm heading to my old stompin' grounds, Scottsdale, for a boondoggle conference this week.  I'll be listening in on seminars with such exciting titles as "Arming the Small to Mid-Sized Institutions with Effective Marketing Strategies and Online Banking Solutions to Increase Competitive Advantage," and "Using Online Testing to Convert More Web Visitors Into Customers and Strengthen Relationships with Existing Customers."  Jealous?  I knew you would be.

So the posting will be a little light this week, unless I spot some local celebrities worth blogging about.   'Til later...

Spring Fever....Catch It!

Today--so I'm told--is the first day of Spring.  While I wasn't looking the vernal equinox came and went and I didn't even get a chance to say "Hi," let alone celebrate it.

And there are so many things to celebrate!  Yesterday was the fourth anniversary of the Iraq War.  We haven't done any spring cleaning since our cleaning lady went mysteriously AWOL.  Our annual winter vacation--wherein we pretend we have money and jet off to an exotic beach for relaxation and debauchery--never happened, punctuated by me shoveling a three-foot high ice dirt snow bank off of our car. 

The whole point of spring is renewal and rebirth, though, and despite life's little annoyances I'm feeling pretty upbeat.  There's the sweet smell of dust and asphalt is in the air.  The gloves and scarf have migrated to the back of my closet.  I'm loving the early time-change (even if my cell phone now thinks I live in Iowa).  I've even got a Yankee game on my calendar.  It's making me hard to be cold and cynical all the time...I'm not quite sure how to behave.

In honor of this new and strange mood, here's my favoritist "spring" song (as in songs that make me think of spring but weren't played at my prom).  Polyphonic Spree, people...enjoy!

How About Legos Made of French Fries?

One of Cheeky's favorite books lately does not involve letters & colors, mischievous gorillas, or easily destroyed liftable flaps.  It does, however, involve an excellent source of dietary fiber and folic acid. 

For those of you not familiar with the Cheerios Animal Playbook, it's one of General Mills' most brilliant marketing ploys.  "Write" a book in which monkeys, butterflies, and leopards stand around while children place breakfast cereal in conveniently located circles on their bodies.  Cheerios aren't just food anymore...they're also a toy and a valuable tool to train hand-eye coordination.

No longer is can the Cheerios brand simply be hidden behind a cabinet door.  It's on our couch, our coffee table, our counter-top, usually surrounded by the crushed remains of the product itself. 

Kids carry brands around like a virus, incubating them until they sneeze them on their playmates or parents.  Cheerios was just more overt about it. 

Why couldn't other companies take advantage of their popularity with kids to reinforce their brands?

For example, Perdue's dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets could be marketed with a creative "lost world" game in which herbivore nuggets are hunted and devoured by the more aggressive nuggets.  And when the child is done they can put the playset in the oven, crank the heat up, and simulate the asteroid extinction.

Or Heinz could capitalize on its ketchup brand with its own "Tarantino Action Figures" armed with hand guns and samurai swords.  Each action figure would spew ketchup in a stylized spray from open wounds, while also teaching sharp dialog and nonlinear story-telling.

And think about Goldfish!  Cheeky loves those, but she only knows them as a tasty snack cracker.  We all know they also make excellent, short-lived gifts at carnivals!  Why not manufacture a carnival playset, complete with vomit-inducing rides, rigged games, and unwashed carnies?  As the child engages with the playset they'll learn how important it is to stay in school, and be rewarded with a free cracker!

That's just off the top of my head.  I'm sure there's plenty of money to made in this.  Wait until I finish working out the kinks of my "'Where to Hot Dogs Come From?' Learning Center."

When All Else Fails, There's Always Search Words

I was tempted to write a post that said, "I have nothing to say today.  That is all."  But I decided to man-up and put a modicum of effort into a post.

Just a modicum, though.

Like a lot of people I keep an eye on what search keywords bring people to my blog.  By far the  biggest search phrase "CroutonBoy is a gorgeous Greek god of a man," but some of the less common ones are equally interesting.  Check these out:

We are joy, we are fun - we are Devo

I was going to wear a condom, but then I though when am ever going to make it back to Haiti - this one speaks for itself

Celebrity deathmatch Yoda - did you seem him take on Danny Bonaduce?  He OWNED him

Desert island 12 boxes of pencils - I'd take food, water, and porn, but pack what you want

Craigslist halitosis - now there's an ad that should get a good response

The boys gone mad, he crazy in the coconut - was it carried by an African swallow?

Desparate for job fulfillment - join the club

What does blues clues Steve look like now - this

Top 100 riffs of all time - sorry, that's over here

Beer taster - are you taking applications?

Belly button safire - Oodgie, I want one of those for my birthday.  I think you can get them here

About Steven Spielbergo personal life - Lo casan con la actriz Kate Capshaw, y tiene ocho niños.

William Shatner ain't no other guy - no he ain't...he's the MFing captain of the MFing Enterprise, BITCH

I'm going to kick his bush - I hope you're talking about the president

Nirvana landslide - Peal Jam avalanche!

Undigested stool looked like lasagna - and what did the digested stool look like?

Low cognition magazine - do you mean this, or this?

Is it safe for a pregnant woman to go to the Browns-Steelers game? - I've heard of women going into labor during an exciting football game; you should be safe

Il Returno de Hercules video - SERIOUSLY, STOP LOOKING!  I DON'T HAVE IT!

The Jeffersons and martini shaken not stirred - Dammit, Weezy, where's my dart-gun cuff-links?

Whatever happened to Billy Squier - he's practicing for the next season of "Dancing with the Stars" (Thanks to Kara & Chicky Chicky Baby for unearthing this)

Teasing a lumberjack - bad idea

Spa treatments involving spanking - "happy endings" for S&M vacationers? 

Barn swallow poop sailboat - either you're crazy or that is one messed up arts & crafts project

I Waited a Week to Write Something and All I've Got is this Lousy Post

The parental units have returned to the great Northwest, and relative quiet has returned to Bespin.  I think WCG² (henceforth called WCGx2, because it's too hard to do a superscript) had a great time, and despite my trepidations they settled right in.  They got some quality Cheeky time, and her attitude toward them went from general wariness to open adoration within a few short days.  They learned their way around the neighborhood (my dad has a praeternatural gift for locating Catholic churches) and managed to choke down a LOT of delivered food.  And they gave us a much needed break for a few hours over the weekend, so woo hoo to that!  Danke!

Unfortunately, if you're looking for a cohesive narrative today, you'll be sorely disappointed.  It's hard enough coming back from a long lay-off with anything intelligent to say, let alone organizing it in a manner that my high school English teacher would approve of (or "of which my high school English teacher would approve," or something like that...happy, Pierre?).  But here's some brain-droppings from my long weekend.

Chicken Nuggets are NOT Eternal

I went back to our old apartment for a couple hours early last week, and rummaged through the fridge looking for anything besides mayonnaise that could pass for dinner.  I found some of Cheeky's dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets wrapped in plastic, and I thought she wouldn't mind if I ate them.  What I didn't really think through, though, was just how long they'd been sitting there, tucked behind the pickles and the baking soda.  Three hours later I was shivering like a poodle at a Korean restaurant, and was ejecting the nuggets and a healthy portion of my stomach-lining.  I got precisely 7 minutes of sleep that night, and only had to prepare a client-presentation and pick up my parents at the airport the next day.  Lesson learned:  breading does not equal a longer shelf-life.

Bears Lead Rex Grossman to Playoffs

The Super Bowl sure was exciting...for about one play.  We watched it with some Bears fans, and by halfway through the third-quarter they had the hollow, emasculated look you'd see in Depression-era Dust Bowl photos.  Even the halftime showing of the "Super Bowl Shuffle" (with outtakes!) didn't cheer them up--we would have been better off watching Prince instead (we did catch the first few minutes...that gnome can tear it UP, can't he?).  And the ads sucked!  It probably didn't help that every time Grossman botched the handoff or threw an interception I laughed so hard I peed myself.  Lesson learned:  never invite a friend still bitter from last year's Super Bowl to your party.

BRRRRR shit shit BRRRRRR god DAMN it BRRRRRRR

I'm overly fond of strutting around in the winter and pointing out that I lived in Minnesota for six years.  "You think this is cold?  I once saw a newscaster throw his coffee in the air and it turned into powdered flakes before it hit the ground!  Now THAT'S cold!"  Well, I'm shutting up now, because whatever weather demons are controlling New York's climate have are absolutely committed to recreating arctic conditions, and every time I leave the apartment I feel like Captain Scott.  "I am just going outside and may be some time."  We can't take the poor kid out for fear of turning her into a little Cheekysicle, and the fabulous outdoor space and neighborhood we've inherited for the next few weeks seem like a thousand miles away.  Lesson learned:  it's time to move to St. Lucia

What a Bunch of Pussies

It's crawling all over me get it off get it off the cat hair the cat hair it's everywhere on my clothes on my skin I breathe it in and sneeze it out it's crawling down my throat in my lungs in my bowels in my eyes always watching plotting waiting looking waiting biding its time until one night when I'm asleep it will cover and consume me penetrate every orifice smother me choking gagging can't breathe must escape its everywhere following me laughing at me taunting me the hair the hair it won't let go can't escape my god it's alive IT'S ALIVE AAAAAARRRR *cough* *choke* ACK NOWHERE TO RUN MY GOD HELP ME PLEEEASE!!!  Lesson learned:  buy stock in lint-rollers

Note:  I got tagged by Freezio for a meme, which I'll be responding to in short order.  He's been AWOL for a few months, and it's good to have him back...go check out his site!  Make him feel welcome again!  Or at least give him crap for his sabbatical.

A Little Spackle, Maybe Some Paint...Just Like New

I thought it was time to give the site a little makeover for the new year.  Sorry the banner is so big...I've been fiddling with it for a few weeks now, but just couldn't figure out how to shrink it without reducing it's awesomeness.

Busy busy busy at work this week, and since my male brain can only handle one thought at a time I can think of little to report save my continued servitude to PowerPoint. 

So...how are you?  What's on your mind?  And what do you think of the new look?  Talk to me kids...