Small & Big

Saying, “No thanks, babe. I’ll just stand here and watch." Inserting toes into mouth while in Happy Baby pose Mooning during Sun Salutation Foaming at the Oms Snatching lavender eye pillows for use as crotch prop Farting Expecting not to fart Using Downward Dog to tinkle on neighbor’s Tree SuperPoking neighbor during Warrior pose Flossing Spanking someone’s crooked Plank Setting water bottle on neighbor’s Table (use a coaster!) Smoking during Savasana

Sometimes it’s fun to feel squished. Purrrrrrr-mew. This is my answer to Illustration Friday’s ( IF website ) assignment to illustrate “Packed”. It’s more of a collage. It gots a big fat cut from my nifty new Dover book of old timey toys.

by P.L. Frederick FADE IN: INTERIOR CUTE SMALL TOWN CAFE IN STOCKBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS - DAY HORACE CHUMLEY sits at a table, reading the menu. He’s surrounded by Norman Rockwell posters, 1950’s collectibles, pumpkins. WAITRESS enters.                             WAITRESS          What can I get for you today?                             HORACE CHUMLEY          I’ll take this chicken and spinach salad.          You don’t have french fries, do you?                             WAITRESS                             (silence)                             HORACE CHUMLEY          French fries?                             WAITRESS          No. We don’t. We try to be heart          healthy here.                             HORACE CHUMLEY          Oh.                             (quietly)          That’s so sad. Waitress leaves with a professionally blank expression. INTERIOR, FIVE MINUTES LATER - DAY Waitress places two huge platters of food on Horace Chumley’s table.                             

I’m not sure what this is for but, given that I adore taking tests and surveys, I taked it anyway. Now it’s your turn: take the Approximate Number Test over at the New York Times . It’s related to this article, “ Gut Instinct’s Surprising Role in Math ” which is fascinating but I can’t recall what it says. There’s always a 100% chance of that. The average adult will be correct approximately 75% of the time on that test. I got 85% in 100 tests. I did it 100 times because I couldn’t stop. Extra points for addiction: whoo-hoo! Little guy by Serge Bloch. Ain’t he cute?

GRAVY TRAINS DO NOT RUN FOREVER! Make economics work for you; you do not work for economics. Avoid 30 YR mortgages; avoid 20 YR mortgages; Prefer 10 or 15 YR mortgages. Get rid of credit cards (except one favored) (pay before due-date). Don’t throw money at problems. Only drive one trip for multi-errands. Start riding a bicycle to STOP & SHOP, etc. The only part of this I can clear up for you is that “Stop & Shop” is a grocery store. Personally, as much as I’d like to follow rule #2, then I could only afford the Stop, not the Shop. That would lead to my breaking rules #1 and #3 and then what are we left with? Anarchy, that’s what. Can you imagine an entire choo-choo train made out of gravy? Uck. How would you sit inside it? Where would you store luggage? Would it be powered by mashed potatoes?

There’s an infinite-plus-one number of scenarios to dream about, right? Out of all of them I get a chubby woman telling a “joke.” Since what’s the point of having a blog if I don’t share the pain, here it is: [Read in a Dutch accent] “I am meeting a man for lunch. I go to the restaurant and I look for him and I find him right away, because I know his face from photographs on his web site. The next day I am meeting another man for lunch. I go to the restaurant and I look and I find him quickly, because I know his face from seeing his films. The third day I meet another man for lunch. I go to the restaurant and I look and I look but I do not see this man, because I’ve only seen him in... cartoons.” Ba-dum bum! [Cricket song.]

What happens when people in different countries hold a conference by phone ? In addition to being bored outta their gourds they inadvertently transmit the odd, anonymous noise. Here are some I’ve heard. Cutting of the cheese, accompanied by frantic paper shuffling Big, deep breaths of a Yeti Liquid pouring into a white porcelain bowl “Meow? Meow. Meow? Meow.” Completely different meeting in a completely different language Pitter-patter of tiny squirrel (rat?) feet Phone being lit on fire and smoked Rooster crowings Dishes being washed, dried, and stacked in a wooden cupboard Two chipmunks fighting about a drain spigot (or having sex) A quiet elf singing songs in Spanish “Whoa—!” (click)

Squirrel limbo with the unmentionables Proof to the neighbors that you’re three sheets to the wind Dogs panting over your pants Snap! of clothespin dangling from earlobe Bird poop in pockets, crickets in underpants Having one’s corset strung between two big, strong... hard... trees Mistaking inchworms for loose threads The Little Rascals in their go-cart, tearing through your bloomers Ghosts cruising the line for some sheet action

Flies love poop. Flies love big poop and little poop and old poop and steamy poop. Flies land on a poop, hang out on poop, wander around poop, have a smoke on poop, meditate on poop, wander around some more on poop, poop on poop, admire the scenery on poop, go to work on poop, come home to poop, take a nap on poop, wake up and say, “Oh boy, poop!” Then they fly over and land on my lip. ( Fly image from GNU )

The day job requires conference calls. This is where participants talk together on the phone and purposely say stuff like, “The combination of our BGA usage parameters and IBU cost structure co-meters create a Tier One model of achievement with global end-structure Make. implications for 1Q.” (Translation? Linguists are stumped.) The contagion of boredom bacteria* spreads like an oozing mucus of molasses slowing seeping over a Ken Burns documentary about paint drying on a humid day in the suburbs. There are high spots though—moments that give evidence of humanity. Most participants don’t use the Mute button so the occasional oddball noise gets broadcast globally. Unless the culprit fesses up nobody knows where the sound comes from. It could be me in Boston or it could be you over there. (Was it you?) Some of the human sounds I’ve heard during big suit meetings are: Dishes being washed, dried, and stacked in a wooden cupboard Pitter-patter of tiny squirrel feet (or rat feet) Liquid pour

“Actually, a sheep is technically not a goat.” “The sword is in my neck, actually. Could you dial 9-1-1?” “Actually, I don’t believe in ghost writers.” “I’m a vegetarian actually. I only eat vegetables, legumes, fruits, and fish. What? A Catholic vegetarian? No, never heard of it.” “Actually, you’re an idiot.” What is there about the word actually and the split second of silence afterwards that is so off-putting? So, I-know-it-all? So, the-conversation-ends-here? Why do people use it to build an instant protective wall up around themselves? The Amiglia-matic wonders, actually.

It has not escaped me that I have a somewhat profuse forehead. Or rather, a fivehead. The “high forehead” was thought to be much attractive in the 15th through 16th centuries, when wealthy gentleladies plucked their way to highbrowed beauty. Admirers took note of the greater brainpan and refined intelligence. (“My, my. Look at thee fo’ead on that one. Hubba hubba.”) Alas, today we no longer live in the Middle Ages, those pox-filled days of easy beauty. Those of us left behind, showing proof of high intelligence as we do, need to make do. So.... One day, a dame with a dome has a bright idea: Advertising Revenue. Then an even better, more refined idea: But a genius idea needs geniuses to buy into it. That’s where you come in. For example, say you’re an overpaid advertising executive. You’re gearing up to promote a dentist, electronics giant, and/or hemorrhoid creme. Or household goods and Sea-Monkeys. I don’t need to explain to you the power of the visual medium. So, without further ado.

At the exact moment you read this, if is between the hours of 7:05 and about midnight Eastern Time, P.L. Frederick is whoopin’ it up at Fenway Park. Whoop! Somebody’s spouse scored two seats on the friggin’ Green Monster. Roar! Section M8, row 3, seats 5 and 6, baby. Under the Volvo “V”. This enables me to drink cheap wine and clam chowder and be slopping both down the side of the monster. “Jacoby! Oh, Jacoby! Over here, doll!” It’s the Red Sox versus the Rays. It was supposed to be a sucky baseball game but the Rays are doing splendorifically. Still, I’ll bet the Sox’ll make so many baskets and goals the first quarter that the fish frisbees will lose. The Rays will cry salt water tears into their Gatorade. Afterwards they’ll feel calm and relaxed ’cuz ridding the body of all that water also empties the bladder. Hey. Hey! What do players do in the middle of a game when they gotta go? Don’t laugh or think about waterfalls or snorkeling, boys. Uranus! When you mix up the vowels you g

Research—good, hard, unquenchable research—is fastidiously performed by Scientists™. And Scientists occasionally uncover a fact so amazing, so revolutionary, that it becomes impossible thereafter to imagine life ever having existed without said fact. That’s a fact. For instance, do you remember life before Pythagoras came up with his famous a²+b²=c² Theorem in the 500 B.C.s? Didn’t think so. This is another such moment. During March of 2007, during a light drizzling rain, Small & Big released a polling questionnaire unto the world. Earth. And, like many of our other ventures, we report that it was a raging success. Raging! Dozens of people crawled, groped, and otherwise dropped everything to get at it. As many as 24 souls in total answered one simple yet profound inquiry, namely: “What’s your favorite pole?” The choices were: A) fishing pole; B) flag pole; C) magnetic pole; D) North Pole (polar bears); E) polecats; F) politeness; G) public opinion polls; H) South Pole (penguins); I

Secure a job in manufacturing department of U.S. mint Sell full-color, neon, tattooed advertising space on your forehead or backhead Place $10 in savings account, wait 293 years Become invisible, open Invisible Me Corporation, hire self as CEO—even if the invisible thing wears off, hey you’re pulling a CEO’s salary Buy two million lottery tickets Invent something that sells like hotcakes, only better than hotcakes because who buys hotcakes? Invest in one $1 stock, sell when price hits $1,000,000 Find a big rock blocking the sidewalk and pedestrians detouring around it complaining passionately, “Why doesn’t somebody move this stupid #*(+@! rock?”, and, even though you’re exhausted after working your exhausting job exhaustingly, roll that thing off the path because it’s no accident the rock’s there—it’s really a test conducted by the rich man peeking through the hedges who wants to reward someone, anyone, who cares enough about other human beings to move a heavy stone out of the way and

The U.S. Federal Government now requires that all bloggers in the United States be fully licensed. It’s a mandate. Every blogger born in, or currently residing within, the United States must meet stringent government qualifications. By Federal mandate, all bloggers must complete the following swearing-in process within 30 days of reading this word right here . Too late: you read it. Mandate! Official Swearing In, As Put Forth By The United States Government By Especial Resolution Place your left hand over your heart and your right hand on the Internet. Repeat after me: As a blogger... I do solemnly swear to create my own news. I do solemnly swear to post to my blog on an at-least-yearly schedule. I do solemly swear to use Spell Check. I do solemnly swear to never blog while steering an automobile, aeroplane, yacht, railroad train, or castrated bull. I do solemnly swear to never blog while on the toilet. Except in an emergency. I do solemnly swear to vote regularly in State and Federal

“At age eighteen, I had absolutely no gifts. I could not sing or dance, and the only acting I did was really just shouting,” writes Steve Martin, the gifted comedian and actor. “Thankfully, perseverance is a great substitute for talent.” I read his autobiography this past weekend, “Born Standing Up.” Despite not knowin’ nuthin’ about nuthin’, Steve had an inner sponge. When he was 10-years old he started work at Disneyland, selling pamphlets. There, he absorbed the teachings of entertainers working in the shops, including former vaudeville performers. Steve worked at magic and comedy sometimes 12 hours a day. He got on stage and did it himself, over and over and over. After 18 years he hit the big time. In college, my drawing professor told his class a story. He told it often. Way back when he was in art school there was a classmate who was terrible at drawing. Let’s call the classmate Carl. (Because I don’t remember his name!) Carl was awful. Couldn’t draw a model’s earlobes without d

Day breaks open, sunny side up pouring out a light break fast before us. The setting placed, warm and welcome and waiting. Sweet pink folds into buttery orange melts into rich honeyed purple and on into the golden yolk of day. Open mouthed we devour the whole wide morning up in wonder. Abundance, more than enough. Sunrise image from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) library.

I was reading Weith Kick’s blog (he’s pretty, oh so pretty), enjoying the commentary on Walmart: The Descent of Man , when I came across something that had me laughing. It’s rare that the written word makes me guffaw out loud, enough to entice my spouse into the room so I read it aloud and he starts laughing. (Also, I told him I wrote it.) Here’s what did it. The set-up: Romi of It Is What It Is is explaining about visiting her local Walmart in Phoenix: My sister and I play this game. We know we’ve been in Walmart too long when we have seen... The dirty diaper in the parking lot, or in a shopping cart. Hah hah. Gross. But this ain’t what did it. She says other funny stuff but I’m cutting it in order to get to the punchline. Are you ready? Are you ready for it? Okay, here it comes! You sure? Just testing. I’m gonna do it this time, I swear. Finally, here it is. And none too soon. All this delaying probably isn’t even funny to you. More annoying than anything. You’ve moved on, haven'

That’s my motto. Today’s Labor Day post is all about past Small & Big posts that were workin’ it. 18 Excuses Not To Go To Work Today Beyond MBA: Business Tips From The Memogenda The Work Of The Honeybee Morning Migration My granddad participated in the 1936-37 UAW sit-down strike in Flint, Michigan . (His good buddy, Roscoe Rich, has audio stories here .) Harry crossed lines to bring meals into the plant for strikers. He said the top people in the union were crooks. But so, too, were corporate bosses. After the unions came, working life improved immensely. Grandpa Harry’s thinking was, if employers and workers treated one another fairly, we wouldn’t need all this nonsense.