Bob the Water Cat

Hard of . . . What did you say?

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 13:37:00 +0000

Me- Good Morning. How are you today?

WL- No, I didn't eat the last chocolate chip cookie.

Don't follow? I'm right there with you. WL is not hearing impaired. To call him hearing impaired would be like calling a Man-O-War jelly fish cuddly. He's deaf. Or as close as you can be to deaf and still hear muffled noises. He has a hearing aid in each ear with the volume cranked wide open yet he can't hear the left turn signal clicking as he drives down the highway in the hammer lane.

Me- Turn signals on.

WL- What?

Me- YOUR TURN SIGNAL IS ON.

WL- Oh. Thank you.

Me- Do you want me to drive?

WL- You're lucky to be alive?

Me- I asked if you wanted me to drive.

WL- I don't see any water slide.

Me- You look tired. Do you want me to take over?

WL- Flat tire? Pull over? You think that's funny?

Me- You are impossible to talk to.

WL- No, I'm not. You mumble.

I don't. Not really. Maybe slightly. It's not the issue. He has the problem not me. On this particular trip we get pulled over by a Florida State Trooper for doing 77 in a 55 zone. It went like this:

ST- Afternoon.

WL- Good Afternoon, Officer.

ST- License and registration, please.

WL- Of Course. Here's my license. Not sure where the registration is. It's a rental.

ST- Do you know why I pulled you over?

WL- Thank you. My wife knitted it herself.

ST- Sir?

WL- I like what you're wearing as well.

At this moment the State Trooper calls his partner out of the cruiser to come back him up. He asks if we've been drinking. We haven't but this is not a stupid question seeing how there's an open fifth of Red Label just lying on the back seat. The cap wasn't screwed on tight so it's been slowly leaking the whole trip. We didn't notice because it happened gradually but the inside of the car reeks of alcohol to the State Troopers keenly trained senses.

We are invited out of the car, onto the shoulder where I, for some reason, get frisked. They want WL to touch his nose with his index finger so he starts to bend over and reach for his feet. The troopers glance at each other. He doesn't quite make it half way before he declares that this is as close as he can get and that he's stuck. The troopers help him stand up straight again. They look uncertain. I'd be trying not to smile at this point if I hadn't just been felt up by a man.

The two troopers leave us on the shoulder and pow-wow inside their cruiser. When they return they are shouting at WL. Not in a bad way. Just in a way they are certain he hears them. This time he answers all their questions in a way that makes them happy. They explain how much the ticket would cost and how many points he would lose. They let us go with a warning. As we pull off the shoulder, WL uses his left turn signal to tell traffic we are re-entering the highway, then forgets about it and leaves it on for the remainder of the trip.

After a week with WL, I walked up to the American Airline's counter at MIA and asked to check in. The attendant scrunched up her brow and said I'm right here. You don't have to shout.

-BW

Death by Iguana

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Fri, 05 Oct 2012 16:24:00 +0000

Me- I hear some people keep them as pets.
MA- Da world is a very sick place, my friend.
Me- And you say they're dangerous.
MA- Youd seen da Alien movie whar da creature has acid far blood.
Me- Yes, I have.
MA- Worse den dat.

We are staring at a baby iguana. He is bright green and almost blending perfectly with the palm fronds around him. MA has a restraining hand on my shoulder. He believes that any second now the iguana will grow to Godzilla proportions and start kicking down buildings. I just want to take a photo.

Me- Looks pretty harmless. Cute in a way, like Kermit.
MA- Dat's da hook. He be reelin ya in, now.
Me- I'm going to get a little closer.
MA- Are ya nut hearin me? Da mutter skunk is evil!

This is not my first iguana. Nor my second. More likely this sighting is triple digits. The adults have long claws and spiky manes off their back and are a bit on the ugly side, unless you're another iguana. They lounge on the docks and usually head for a tree or splash into the water if you pass too close. Iguanas are awesome swimmers. I've heard of people getting bitten but most likely they're doing something incredibly stupid like trying to feed one by hand or maybe picking one up to cuddle it.

Iguanas are pesty if you have a garden. They love to feast on new leaves, but a small fence is all you need to nip that and then they are mostly harmless. In certain parts of the Caribbean, iguanas are called tree chickens and, as the name suggests, at times eaten. On St Thomas, iguanas are hated by the islanders. It is an animosity I don't fully understand. Nor do I ever expect to.

MA- Do ya nut know of Binky, mon?
Me- No. I do not.
MA- Binky was da best tree climber in world. Da best. Binky was a climbin fool. He could make a monkey blush, da way he climbin.
Me- A good climber, eh?
MA- No mon, he was da best. Somebody say, Binky it's coconut time. Binky would walk right up a tree and before ya know, it be rainin coconuts.
Me- And?
MA- And I seen it wid my own eyes. One day it's coconut time. Binky walk right up da tree like ya and me walk down da street. Walk up da tree like he'd done a million times before.
Me- And?
MA- AHHHHHHHHHH! (he screamed)
Me- WTF! Give me a heart attack.
MA- Dat was Binky. Dat what he say and den fell out of da tree. He fell dat on his back. Broke his spine dead, mon.
Me- That's horrible.
MA- When we looked up in da tree. Dare whar Binky had been was dat ugly iguana head looking down. But ya won't believe it. Da mutter skunk was smilin.
Me- Death by iguana.
MA- Death by iguana.
Me- So if someone asks me if iguanas are dangerous, I tell them, yes.
MA- Believe it.

I took a step back. You never know.

BW.

Back in the USVI (part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Mon, 27 Aug 2012 23:01:00 +0000

MA- Criminal, criminal, criminal, criminal, criminal, criminal, criminal and criminal.

MA is pointing a finger at each campaign poster as we drive past. He's an islander. The coveted status of those who were actually born in the VIs. We have a lot of locals who call themselves islanders but, nope, even 30 years of residence doesn't make you an islander. Sorry.

During non-election years, MA talks passionately about the corruption and injustice which is eating his island home like a cancer. But during election time, with the campaign posters everywhere, the most he can manage without frothing at the mouth and sputtering incomplete thoughts of frustration are these one word exclamations. Criminal.

St Thomas. Home.

Where is it? Just to the right of Puerto Rico. Where is Puerto Rico? Just to the right of Hispaniola. Where's that? Just to the right of Cuba. Where's Cuba? Down from Florida. Where's Florida? Never mind.

East to west, St Thomas stretches 13 miles. For the most part, the roads are single lane, with just enough room for two pickups to pass each other with one loosing a side view mirror. The roads themselves twist and turn, narrow and widen, dip and climb. They are always riddled with potholes except a few months before an election when the potholes magically get filled in. Following the speed limit it should take more than an hour to drive those 13 miles from end to end. Islanders pride themselves on doing it in half the time. Locals a bit longer, but not much. And for no apparent reason other than just keeping it interesting, we drive on the left.

For 3 months out of the year the Virgin Islands become targets for tropical storms and, you guessed it, hurricanes. This time of the year has always reminded me of bowling, except you use hurricanes instead of balls, islands instead of pins and each turn lasts about a week.
-Ivan steps up to the line, nice form, it's away, it's got a nice rotation on it, it's headed straight for Barbados. Wait, wait, it's starting to hook north and gain speed and intensity and POW! Jim, did you see that?
-I sure did, Brent. Ivan just picked up the Dominica - Antigua split! An Incredible shot by the new comer from Africa.

St Thomas has deer, iguanas, mongoose and a feral cat population of over 20,000 and rising. That's almost half the human population of St Thomas (or 5 cats for every one person on St John) It's been said many times that cats have a hidden agenda. St Thomas may just be the first place they've put that agenda into play. Don't be surprised if one day you call the VIs but rather than a Hello? you get a Meow? instead.

So, we have corruption on a scale that would make D.C. blush and a relatively high cost of living, a few wildlife issues which need sorting and taxi drivers who shouldn't be able to sleep at night. Our cars are missing a bumper or a window and can only be opened from the passenger side. We wear hats, t-shirts and flip-flops in winter and the same, minus the t-shirt, in the summer. We have an average temperature of 81°F and an average wind speed of 10 mph. This is America's Paradise and . . . it's good to be home.

MA- Criminal, criminal, criminal, @#$%ing criminal . . .

BW.

The Babysitter

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Tue, 07 Aug 2012 15:15:00 +0000

HI- Don't saw him in half. Don't light him on fire. Don't take him to the Red Light District
Me- Should I be writing this down?
HI- No video games.
Me- For me or for him?
HI- Either. No television.
Me- I get it. I get it. Lock him in a closet until you get back. Simple.
HI- In bed by 9:00. Make sure he first goes to the bathroom, washes his hands and brushes his teeth.
Me- In that order?
HI- Yes. We trust you can handle this. (His wife looked at him sharply. He corrected himself) I trust you can handle this. All the numbers are on the fridge. Call if you have a problem.

And with that they left. Left me alone with a 7 year old. My secret God Son. My first foray into babysitting. I stared at him. He looked up at me like I should take the lead. I shrugged. He aped me and shrugged back. I suggested video games. He told me he wasn't allowed. I said no one would find out. He told me No. No video games. What then? He suggested soccer. This seemed like a bad idea. Something was bound to get broken. Most likely him. I agreed. But only a game to 5 points. First person to 5 is the winner.

The soccer game to 5 points turned a hellish game to 101 due to a copious number of wasn't readys, do overs and no fairsies. I couldn't lose and I couldn't win. The game ended suddenly when a freakish wind caught the ball and it wound up on the roof wedged behind the chimney. Ooops.

Next came Yahtzee. For Yahtzee there is one and only one way to throw the dice. If you get what you wanted, then that wasn't it and you must start over.

Last was reading. The kid read to me for an hour and half straight and showed no signs of fatigue. I was limping by that point. It was almost 10:00.

Preparing for bed was easy. He was on auto pilot and didn't need any help, although the next day I got berated for not washing his hands properly. Turns out, he needs to do something that rivals what surgeons do when scrubbing for surgery.

Once in bed he confessed that he wasn't tired and probably wouldn't fall asleep. He showed me the glow stars he has on his ceiling. I suggested counting them. He told me exactly how many there were. I suggested he double check and he gave me a look that said please, I don't make mistakes. It's a look he got from his father.

I walked downstairs to the sofa fully intending to stay alert and vigilant until I was relieved of duty, but nodded off as soon as I sat down.

Around one o'clock I was awakened by noise at the front door and one parent brushing past me on her way upstairs.

HI- How was it?
Me- How was what?
HI- The babysitting?
Me- Oh, was I supposed to be watching him?
HI- Funny.
Me- He's fine. Like the Energizer Bunny on Red Bull.
HI- Anything new?
Me- Yes. You are now the proud owner of a son that can say in fluent English, Pull your own finger.
HI- You don't really own children.
Me- Semantics.

BW.

Strandeville Horror

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Mon, 23 Jul 2012 15:36:00 +0000

♣ Hoof prints in the mud outside my bedroom window. I am officially concerned. If I hadn't already planned on leaving Strande in 5 days, I would be probably be leaving in 2. I can put up with a lot of strangeness, but somebody crossed the line. I wouldn't have ever noticed but my Land Lady paints her house once every 16 years whether it needs it or not. NEEDS! So the painter pulled all the weeds away from the house to get a clear shot and a few days later I noticed them. Nice. In addition to being concerned, I am officially creeped out.

One dark night in Thailand, I heard rustling in the bushes outside my bungalow. By the time I'd dressed and found a flashlight, the noise had stopped. But, like any good extra in a horror movie, I went out to investigate. I stood on the porch and listened but the night was still. Then I heard rustling a ways off to my right, so I shined the flashlight in that direction. At first it was totally black, then two fiery red eyes swung into view and blinked at me. Medusa herself couldn't have done any better. I was frozen solid. I think my heart stopped beating. The eyes blinked again, and after a moment were joined by a second pair, then there was a snort and the first pair of eyes disappeared.

Any guesses? Well it was the second pair and the snort that unglued me. It was just enough to guide my mind back from the realm of the dark prince and the supernatural and into the world of reality. For me, one Beelzebub is terrifying, but two, for some reason, are not. I got off the porch and walked closer. As I approached, 2 sets of eyes turned into 4 sets, turned into 6, and the snorting got louder and the eyes started to dance around in a very nervous way until all 6 of them turned and bolted in the opposite direction. Water Buffalo. They'd gotten through the perimeter fence, a sturdy property border which tended to fall down if someone even thought about leaning up against it. They'd broken through the perimeter and were grazing.

But these prints are different. This is way worse. How can I ever close my eyes again knowing that sometime during the night a perverted goat may be standing outside my window, watching me while I sleep.

Piggy? Is that you?

♣ Ok. I'd like to leave this Strande series with a somewhat positive feeling. Here goes nothing. The village here is made up of 13 houses, so there's just absolutely no way I could have met everyone in the 6 months that I've been here. Of course I've met Werner, and there's this guy called Armin who is like the MacGyver of Strande and there's my Land Lady (I didn't whisper it yet). There is also Hans. I passed Hans on the sidewalk in the mornings. I'd be out walking and he'd be out walking his horse. After a few times of saying Good Morning to each other I asked him (in German) if he would mind if I took a picture of him. Hans so looked the part of a stable groom that I couldn't imagine he'd done anything else his entire life. I was wrong. He answered, in flawless English, that he would be delighted and we should move down the walk a ways as the light would be more suited for a photo, early morning light being so tricky. That's how I met Dr Hans Flügel PhD.

So not only a stable groom, but a scientist, marine biologist and professor at the University of Kiel. I liked the marine biology part. As we say: Small World, Big Ocean. Hans also spent a great many years in New England. He was a visiting professor at one of Maine's universities and also a good friend of painter Andrew Wyeth. I confessed I didn't know Wyeth's work. He told me I did, but I just didn't know it and began to describe Wyeth's painting Christina's World and he was right. I knew the painting.

Armin told me that the Caterpillar family was renting half of his house. This wasn't a weird as it sounds because, after some clarification, I found out he was referring to the family that owns Caterpillar, Inc. You just never know who will turn up in Strande.

Auf Wiedersehen spiders, Werner, slugs, Herr Rarow, horses, Hans, witch.

Auf Wiedersehen, Strande.
It's been fun but we're done.

BW.

Back in the USVI (part 1)

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Tue, 17 Jul 2012 23:29:00 +0000

No, I'm not there yet. But the date is close enough to start the countdown clock and I've been eyeing my luggage as one can only eye an evil nemesis who must be vanquished. Yes, pretty soon I'll be bouncing up and down on top of it, swearing and making promises I don't intend to keep if it will only close just this one last time. And when it does finally close, I'll notice that other pile of stuff I put aside because I wanted to put it in last but forgot to put in at all.

First, I'd like to publicly respond to an email I received. It said simply, "What's with the slugs?" And my answer is "I got nothin." It was either slugs or another George & Howard that I have tucked away for a very dry period. It's not dry enough yet. Especially when we can create soon to be classics like Slug Philosophy.

No, I'm still in Strande. With the slugs. I hope to squeeze out one more puff piece on Strande before I go. But I'm not sure that will happen because I'm bit distracted with the move. So distracted, that I was going through some old videos from the USVIs. So distracted, that I started sorting them. So distracted, that the sorting led to editing and I wound up making a video.

So. You already know how great Strande is. (If you need some Strande background, click here or here.) Now, I'm going to show you the horrible place that I'm going back to and just what I have to look at every day at work. I am warning you, it's horrible. Just horrible.

Ready to be horrified? Ok. Here is the video:

Now pity me.

BW.

****** UPDATE *******

For those of you who have survived the first stabbing. I have made another video.
THIS, Tracia, is my attempt to do better.

BW.

Slugs

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Mon, 09 Jul 2012 18:54:00 +0000

Slug Philosophy

The Homeless Problem

BW.

Soon the Harvest Begins

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Mon, 02 Jul 2012 19:54:00 +0000

Ok, any farmers out there?

This is a picture of rapeseed or a field of rape. It is quite beautiful stretching on and on, when the sun hits it you need to shield your eyes. I'd never heard of rapeseed. They told me it's used for both cooking and to lubricate engines. Tasty and versatile. I'm still drawing a blank. What about canola? What about them? They are delicious. Turns out canola oil is THE major ingredient in most vegetable oils. I did not know that.

Peanut oil comes from peanuts and olive oil comes from olives and sunflower oil comes from sun flowers. This is ok for me. Cod liver oil comes from Cape Cod. So if Cape Cod is the arm it would be just down the coast and inland a bit.

Vegetable oil comes from vegetables and it turns out that canola is a vegetable.

Cannoli is not the plural form of canola. Which is too bad because if that was a field of cannoli, I'd be out there making crop circles with my mouth.
Still beautiful though.

BW.

Not sure why everyone keeps saying they are so glad I'll be here for the "harvest." I haven't told them I'm leaving yet. Time to sneak out the back.

Kieler Woche

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Sun, 24 Jun 2012 21:33:00 +0000

Kieler Woche. A week of celebration in honor of all things that float. And a really good excuse to get ripped.

Kiel has always been a sailing community. So much so that they named that upside down shark fin thingy that you find on the bottom of sailing boats after the town. Or the town was named after the upside down shark fin thingy. (chicken blah blah egg) Yes, it is the keel. Thnak you brainiacs.

Today marks the finish of Kieler Woche 2012. Good times. And even though it rained just a little bit every day, it didn't go buckets until the last day. Thnak you rain clouds. Let's have a little post-view. (that's the opposite of preview)

Talent

We had talent. Kim Wilde kicked off the festivities Monday evening. Still singing her heart out and still a fox at 51. Unfortunately, my camera batteries and I had a disagreement as to whether they were full or not. They won. No photo.

The famous St Petersburg a capella band Sailors II Captains was in rare form. Here is a shot of them preparing for that crowd pleaser, I'll Make Lub to You. You notice Serg is already crying.

And speaking of famous, look who it is. It's John Travolta there getting into the spirit of Kieler Woche.

Food
Venders from all over the globe lined the streets of Kiel selling their tasties.

Here is the vender from Holland selling the family sized cheese wheel, bachelor sized cheese wheel, the cheese bomb and the not so popular cheese apple.

HEIR GIBT'S ELCHBURGER And if you miss the sign on your way by, the smell of those burgers being cooked on an open flame is sure to pull you in.

Now, as any good Canadian or beer drinker will tell you, that's not an elk. That's a picture of a moose. But the translations between Norwegian and English never made sense to me. Moose is elk and elk is reindeer and reindeer is elephant and of course in Norwegian the word for elephant is moose.

I didn't bring any of this up with Lars, who was serving me my burger for one very good reason. You just shouldn't bicker with people who ski with rifles strapped to their backs.

There were exhibitions

And races

And yesterday we had the parade.

There were many floats entered in the parade.

So that's that.

Kieler Woche: Once a year, whether you need it or not.

BW.

Congratulations, it's a boat !

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 16:45:00 +0000

It's official. There was a long distance pinky-swear on Saturday. The web site went live this morning (atlantic standard time) and the proverbial ball starts to roll. (ordinarily that's right before the proverbial sh*t hits the fan) So if i can just stay two steps in front of it (the ball), I won't get flattened by this project.

I own a boat. (girlish giddy giggle)

Also, I can announce the contest winner:
AA wins it.

I really don't know how this happened. I was so leaning towards Cheeseburger. I thought it was clever and an endless source of jokes. Where are my sunglasses? You left them on the Cheeseburger. etc. But as i was making the website, i kept putting Deja Blue in all the places that required the boat's name. Just to hold the space and I just got used to it. It is also clever. So, AA gets the T-shirt and a free half day. Or she can trade it all for what's behind door number 3. (Can you say, life time supply of jiffy pop pop corn) (Can anyone tell me what a lifetime supply of something means? You'd think jiffy pop would have hit men. They give away so many life time supplies it must be hard to stay in business with out hit men rubbing out most of the contest winners)

Anyway, Deja Blue will work nicely. Thanks to all who took the time to suggest something. There where some great ones. And then there was Claire who's enters a week after the contest has ended and suggests Claire d'Lune. (slow head head shake from side to side)

GH says it will be good for me to own something more expensive than my regulator.

Patty and Mary B have already booked a trip in Feb.

Fanny's angry because I didn't name it the Blue Snail.

The former owner is talking all insurance this and license that.
HI has already submitted his CV for wash-down-boy. A position I didn't even know I was hiring for.

But all I can think about is taking her out into the middle of the sound and cranking "I'm on a Boat" as loud as it will go.

BW.

I almost forgot. The website was a rush rush job so I'm sure it has a few hinky kinkies in it. But please pop over and give it a spin and if it acts funny or you catch a misspelling. please send me an email telling me what type of browser you're using and what's gone wrong. Be sure to watch the "explanation" video on the gallery page. It's a bit funnier than this post.

<Link to Website>

I'm on a boat.
I'm on a boat.
Everybody look at me cause I'm sailin on a boat.

5:15 pm Friday Afternoon

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Sat, 09 Jun 2012 08:54:00 +0000

BW.

Give It a Name

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Thu, 31 May 2012 08:43:00 +0000

Things to Do in Denver When You're Dead was entertaining. Not a movie that made my Top 10 List, but entertaining. So, Things . . . Denver . . . entertained, but also introduced me to the unforgettable phrase "Boat drinks", which I now use as a toast to future good things to come [is that redundant?] and to toast good moments happening) and also the phrase "Give it a name" which is a bit more complex but no where near as complex as Brasco's "Forget about it."

This post has to to do with giving a boat a name and nothing to do with Denver. Sorry, Denver.

As you may know (or not), I am only in northern Germany because Sweden (JK) won't have me. And I am only here long enough to lift up the huge locomotive of life and set it back on its tracks. Some of you have been helping with this process (HI, GH, Fanny, Ed Poche, Hillary Clinton). Some of you, not so much (CTS). And although I find Strande very charming, it is almost time to say Auf Wiedersehen. (Hopefully, before the harvest.)

Get to it already! Yes, yes. I am getting to it. It's been narrowed down to two options. A giant leap forward or huge step backwards. Forward being: Aloha, Hawaii. Mahalo very much. And backwards being back to where I came from. That's right. Dare I say it. Dare I, "give it name." Backwards being: So, ya com beck fa sum mo, Mon? Deed ya nut learn yo lesson da ferst time? The Virgin Islands. The scale has tipped and we are now trying to find the locomotive's reverse gear. Hawaii will have to wait.

But is there a point? Quite. The Boat, The Business and Everything. It will be a ground zero build. New business. Starting from scratch. My old business is still there but it's was sold so it's not mine. The boat is not there but I can get it back. The problem is that the boat's present name is almost exactly the same as my old business's (which is not mine). Meaning it would be confusing to run a boat named the same as someone else's business. Plus, there's that whole Wrath of Mindy thing I was kinda hoping to avoid. (Mindy, is the business's new owner). So, the point is that the boat needs a new name.

The boat needs a new name. And I need your help naming it. So far I've come up with "The Black Feather" and "I Hope JK Gets Audited and Then Sucked into a Vortex Without Dessert." Neither one is all that good, so I was hoping for some suggestions.

Thnaks
BW.

Contest:

Leave your suggestion for the boats new name as a comment below. If your suggestion is selected, you'll get sent a limited edition, one-of-a-kind T-shirt with the new company's logo plus somewhere on it it will state that you named the boat.
Plus: "A 3 Hour Tour" A free half day trip (more like 4 hours) on the boat you named. Must be on STJ or STT to claim trip.

(comment button works. You have to click and then scroll)
____________UPDATE

I think everybody who has something to say has chimed in already (except Lauren). But Friday will be the last day.

Announcement will come after that. Some time. After deliberation and stuff.

BW.

____________UPDATE's UPDATE

Big Thnak You to everyone who took part in the naming.

The contest is now unofficially officially over. As I type, the judges are being escorted to a mineral cave in Albania to deliberate, choose and come up with an ad strategy and website. Not an enviable task. The winner will be announced sometime after that.

BW.

Here is the list of suggestions:

Aqua Terra
AquaCat
Back at It
Been Here Done This
Best Day Ever
Big Boat Mon
Blue it All
Blue Wind
Bob
Bob Mar Lee
Bob N' Along
Bob's Big Buoy
BobCat
Boboat Fett
Boomerang
Cat-cha Later
Cheeseburger in Paradise
Chillin' Tha Most
Cowboy Cruises
Da Boat
Dantless Nite
Debbie
Deja Blue
E Boblo
Fred the Water Boat
Grace
Indigo-go
Infamous Repute
Island Cowboy
Island Wilson
Jamaican Me Crazy
Jumbee Remedy
Larimar
Living on Island Time
Majesty
Make It So
Mar Cat
Mork's
Never Again 2
Out of the Blue
Outrunnin Jumbee
Outta Cabbage
Passing Wind
Phoenix
Princess SeaWee
Princess WeeWee
Purrfect Witt
Sabine
Saltwater Cowboy
Sanchos Insula
Scott Free
Sea No Evil
Sea Through
Sea Whores
Seaquel
Smitten Kitten
SS Jumbee
The Black Pearl
The Blue Legume
The Cat's Ass
The Codfather
The Minnow
The Teal Deal
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
The Unpossible
Ultra-marine Blue
VI Mistress
Viva Le Bob!
Warm Fuzzies For Stray Cats
Wicked Feline
Wyld Stallyn
Xcape Jumbee
You Will Bow to It

An American Werewolf in Strande

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Sat, 26 May 2012 09:29:00 +0000

Stick to the roads, stay away from the ~~moors~~ beaches.

[<Read Here> if you need to get up to speed on Strande.]

Ok, how about an update, shall we? Let's do that now.

♣ Meet Werner Schmidt. A regular on the Strande beach. That's were he hangs out. Werner is not a shy guy, in fact he's very friendly. Very very friendly. He'll strike up a conversation with anybody. Which is friendly. Werner's one fault, if he has any, is his failure to recognize people's safety circles. Mine starts out about 15 feet, not when your gizmo is brushing on my knee. Hear that, Werner?

♣ The Toaster
Want to know why the toaster sits on the coffee table? Because it's broken. (this is so why did the chicken cross the road?) I assume there was some kind of healing spell cast on it which takes 6 to 7 months to take affect. 6 to 7 months when it must remain on the coffee table. We are still waiting. On a side note, if anyone needs a machine that can quickly fill a room with a thick cloud of smoke, I got just the ticket.

♣ Mr Rarow
I know. I know. It doesn't exactly glide off the tongue. Herr Rarow is like my Sheriff John Brown here in Strande. No matter where I go, Herr Rarow is there. It started one day when I was photographing a tractor in a field. (This is Strande. If you shoot a picture, you are bound to get either a tractor or a field in it. Or a horse) The tractor and the field happened to belong to Herr Rarow. I was on a public sidewalk at the time. (Which Rarow claims to own.) Rarow pulls his silver BMW wagon onto the sidewalk, jumps out all indignant as only an over weight self important man can, and demands to know who hired me to spy on his operation. I didn't have any answers he liked.

The next time we met, I was walking out of the Strande forest and there parked right in front of me was a silver BMW wagon. Herr Rarow can't be bothered to get out this time. He just rolls down the window and starts yelling. Guess who owns the forest? Yep. He also owns the beach, the ocean, the sky and Werner Schmidt. That's according to Rarow. No one can confirm this. Not even Werner.

Herr Rarow new hobby seems to be following me around. Since I walk everywhere it's pretty hard not to notice the silver BMW creeping along behind me at a distance. I think we crossed the line between infatuation and stalking quite some time ago. Ok, moving on.

♣ Tail of Lion
I have to admit this creeped me out more than the axe. My land lady, you'll remember, has never been caught wearing a pointy hat nor riding a broom. Not by me. Not yet, any ways. Still . . .

A few months ago I found a lion's tail in the fields. Just the tail. A day or two ago my land lady asked me to help her carry a sofa to the second floor. I asked why she didn't just wiggle her nose and send it up the stairs. She gave me a funny look. So I nodded my head knowingly. Ah, appearances.

I helped her. But I nearly dropped the thing on my foot when I saw this lion sitting in the corner of her room. Look at the tail! LOOK AT THE TAIL ! It's exactly the same!!! I felt a chill. So fresh ingredients? Is this one next in line for the ritual? Or worse. Is it the same tail stitched on in another weird ceremony? I was pretty sure I was going to get caught when I snuck back up to snap this picture. Witches can sense things.

♣ The Axe
That is the door to my room. That white circle thingy is a plate which holds a smoke detector. I do not warrant a smoke detector near my room. And I don't know if you can see it because it's so small. So very small. But that little thing to the right of my door is an axe. It was not there when I moved in. I guess I should find it odd that my land lady has hung an axe outside my door. I do. But not terribly. I guess the toaster sitting on the coffee table has prepared me for these things.

BW.

What Are Legend Points and Where Can I Exchange Them for Something Nice Like a Slanket?

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Thu, 24 May 2012 10:26:00 +0000

Let me introduce you to two ladies I would someday like to meet in person. Probably not at the same time because the awesomeness of just one of them alone would be near overwhelming. Both at the same time? Forget about it.

On the left is Lauren who lives in Chicago and writes Filing jointly ... finally. And on the right is Claire who lives in Texas and writes I've Been There, Claire

Now I'd be surprised if you made it here without knowing who one or the other is. So if I'm surprised, and only you can tell me if I am because I don't know how you got here, you should go check them out and get hooked.

Ramble, ramble, carry the two. Oh, well they met online but came together at a book signing in Dallas. Right. The photo you see was a challenge / birthday gift for me. I can only assume Claire made the sign since it says Howdy and not Yo! And in return for taking a picture (or in this case, having someone take a picture of them) together with a sign mentioning Bob (which is cool), I kinda promised them a gazillion Legend Points.

But I find myself short about a billion Legend Points because as everyone knows, Legend Points are neither created nor destroyed they are merely redistributed amongst the worthy.

So I made this post to make up the difference and I hope that they can . . . OMG is that the new issue of The Atlantic Monthly over Claire's shoulder?!?

BW.

Friend Mathematics

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Mon, 21 May 2012 10:33:00 +0000

BW.

-No, I did not photo shop my finger so it looks worse than it really is. What kind of person would do something like that?

I'll just be out here, standing on my float

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Fri, 11 May 2012 13:23:00 +0000

I broke down. Bit the bullet. Scraped the burnt. I slapped the pancake and went to Hamburg for the weekend.

Being half a globe away, you've got to admit, is a great excuse for not visiting someone. Now, I'm only an hour away by train and still making excuses. Only the excuses were sounding a bit lame, even to me. (Technically you can ground yourself. It works even better with a split personality. "Grounded for a week? Ah man, you suck." 'Deal with it.' "But I was going to Hamburg." 'You should have thought of that before.' The other one, cleaning the tub, doesn't fly with anyone who knows me. Also, there is no tub.)

I prefer the word complacent to lazy. I'm neither. I just dread things. 15 years ago, I wandered the globe with everything I owned in one bag. I did stuff. The voices in my head used to whisper things like: Pull my finger, Pull the emergency brake. Now, act innocent. Pull the fire alarm. Now run. And pull my finger again. Nowadays I have a problem going outside. Today's voices whisper: Go back inside. You'll be safe there. Nothing unexpected can happened to you in there. And pull my finger. When I do go outside, it's like someone is standing over me dropping feathers of black, one after the other. First, there comes a point when you notice something's not right. An unpleasantness. With each feather it grows a tiny bit stronger until it builds into this feeling of impending doom that wants nothing more than to crush you. Of course, you'd be safe inside at home. Logical. This was not a gradual change that happened over the last 15 years. This is more like a switch that just got flipped recently.

In Hamburg, I met with Fanny, who breastfed for 29 months just to hold onto that B-cup a little longer.

Fanny- I told you to take the Aaaaaaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaa thing out. It's not funny. And you should have taken the snail instead of the yellow. But never mind, they will invite you, I'm sure.

She's talking about the resume I sent to a gallery. They wanted to see some examples of my art and required that they be accompanied by a resume. You see, art isn't art until someone says it is and no one wants to be first to say it is, in case it isn't. But if you have a resume that says someone else already said it was art, then you're free candy. I don't have that resume. My resume has my name on it and then it says (close friends call me 'Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah') Fanny has a problem with this. Although, she doesn't seem to mind that the very next line of my resume states my age in dog years.

Me- Thanks for the weird support. But my friends call me Aaaaaaaah is funny. It's the noise someone makes when they fall off a cliff. Believe me, I know.
Fanny- Not funny.
Me- You're just reading it wrong. You're reading it like a retard or a seal going Arr Arr Arrr and pointing to the floor with their shoulder touching their ear. It's not like that. I would never make fun of retarded seals. Some of my best friends are seals.
Fanny- Not funny.
Me- Eh. In a perfect world they wouldn't even be looking at a resume until they've made a decision about the art, if ever.
Fanny- You should have taken the snail. I like the snail.
Me- Doesn't matter what you or I like. It doesn't even matter what the client likes. It matters what that snooty lady with the glasses perched on the end of her nose likes or what some other snooty lady with glasses has told her to like. Here's a conversation I over heard between a gallery owner and potential client:

-Woogie.

-Woogie woogie.

-Woogie woogie woogie woogie?

-Woogie. Woogie woogie woogie woogie woogie?

-Woogie woogie woogie.

-Woogie woogie woogie?

-Woogie woogie woogie woogie, woogie woogie woogie woogie woogie woogie.

-Woogie.

-Woogie !!!

-Woogie !

-Woogie woogie.

-Woogie.

Fanny- They will invite you, I'm sure.
Me- Thanks for saying so.
Fanny- (under her breath) Should have taken the snail.

-------------------------------

How is Strande? HI wants to know. I'd been pulling weeds in the garden all day. I said let's do something you wouldn't normally do to celebrate my being in Hamburg. Gardening was what he came up with. I got the front lawn bushes. He was somewhere in the back. Every now and then he'd come round to check on me. Would you like something to drink? he'd ask. I'd tell him absolutely. He'd disappear and come back in an hour and ask the same question, get the same answer and disappear again.

When I saw him laughing at me from a window I buried three of his bocce balls under a bush and went inside.

Me- Strande is very cold.
HI- It's May.
Me- It's a cold May and my land lady turned off the heat.
HI- You mean the witch.
Me- Shhhhhhh.
HI- She's in Kiel. That's a hundred kilometers away.
Me- Ya, I know. But shhhhhh.
HI- You're being ridiculous.
Me- I've been called many things, but ridiculous isn't one of them.
HI- I called you ridiculous last week.
Me- That was you?
HI- Are you still afraid of her?
Me- Bite the clown.
HI- Then just ask her to turn the heat back on.

Me- I did. Sort of, but she's all frugal and stuff. Don't use the exhaust fan when you cook. Don't use that burner for that pan. Turn off the lights unless you really need to see and blah and blah and blah.

HI- That's what Germans are famous for, conserving energy.

Me- I'm pretty sure you guys are famous for something, but conserving energy doesn't top the list.

HI- So it's cold. And?

Me- It's Italian cold. And the Internet is soooooooo slooooooooooow. I spend most of my day playing Long-Blinky-Screen-Changey.
HI- What happened to My-Hands-Are-Magic-Curtains-Screen-Changey?
Me- I outgrew it.
HI- Too bad. Ok, so cold, internet, and?
Me- . . . and . . . . and . . . . and . . . . . . . . . it's windy?
HI- I read that somewhere. Only two minor grievances. Sure doesn't sound that bad.
Me- I sugar coated it again, didn't I?
HI- Well, our door is always open to you.
Me- Really?
HI- Yes, in a one night maybe, two nights max, no way I'll answer the phone at 2am when you've got yourself into a jam and need a place to crash but don't even know where you are, don't ruin anymore of my furniture, please call at least two days in advance to see if we've got something better lined up kind of way.
Me- Oh.
HI- Just like this weekend.
Me- This was fun. I'll have to come back for another visit.
HI- Great. And make it soon. The back hedges are getting out of control.

-------------------------------

The photo is of the Alster in Hamburg. The guy on the float is my hero. He's always out there. It does not matter what kind of weather, you can depend on this guy to be standing on his float doing his job. Not sure what his job is, but this guy is like the 7-Eleven of doing it. So he takes it serious, whatever it is. Which is very cool and makes him a legend. I could do that. I could stand out there all the time . . . until the feathers started dropping. Then I'd be screwed.

BW.

Yo, Buzz. Legend points for getting the Tabasco !!!

This Place Blows

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Sun, 22 Apr 2012 03:00:00 +0000

Welcome to Schleswig-Holstein. A German state slightly larger than Connecticut, but with the highest concentrations of wind generating capacity in Europe, if not the world.

Means it's windy as @#$% here.

Yep, it's Earth Day 2012. The day designated to increase our awareness and appreciation for Earth's natural environment.

There are over 2900 wind turbines operating in Schleswig-Holstein. This one is just on the other side of the street from where I'm staying, so of course I have a lot of photos of it. Here's one of them.

Happy Earth Day !

BW.

Shocking Confession

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 11:03:00 +0000

Me- You sound happy.

GH- I hate my dog.

Me- You have a dog?

GH- My wife's dog. No discussion. No warning. Just BAM. I come home from work one day and there it is peeing on the floor.

Me- You got a PUP-PEE !

GH- Nope. A full grown whatever. Has what the vet calls an excitable bladder. Anytime a person walks into the house the thing pees with excitement. But now, it's just responding to the doorbell. You can tell how many people came knocking during the day by counting the number of puddles.

Me- I'm sure they make doggie Nappies.

GH- There's more. The thing yips all the time, especially at night, chews everything and . . .

Me- And what?

GH- And it just loves me. Comes running when ever I get home. Jumps up and down on my leg, most times it's peeing while it does. And won't leave me alone.

Me- It's good to be loved.

GH- Not this kind of love.

Me- Still, you sound like you're in a pretty good mood.

GH- A guy at work started talking about those electric collars. He said within a month his dog did exactly what it was told. Since then it's all I've been thinking about. The dog sleeps downstairs in its kennel. I'm upstairs. I want one of those collars so I can set the remote on my nightstand. Whenever I wake up in the night I can reach over, push the button and zap the dog. The cat sleeps on my chest at night. When it wakes me up, I'll zap the dog. When the Harleys race up the street and wake me up, I'll zap the dog. When the rain on the roof wakes me, I'll zap the dog. Hail on the window, zap the dog. And then . . . then maybe we can be friends.

Me- . . .
GH- Hello?

BW.

See Sybil, this is why we have to use initials.

I Know Just Where to Put This

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Fri, 06 Apr 2012 22:47:00 +0000

THE SUNSHINE AWARD

I got another award. I believe the criteria for winning is that your blog must blow sunshine up someone's skirt. So there's that.
(wait, who said this blog blows?)

And . . . there's this woman who lives in the tornado belt of Texas who rides a Harley and knows a guy who will dance for 2 minutes to any song you choose wearing a hot dog costume. I'm not making this up.

Her blog is: I've Been There, Claire, she's cooler than moon rocks and
she's actually giving a mess of stuff away on Monday. So get over there and feel the coolness.

It is she whose skirt the sunshine was blown up and thusly she has bestowed this award here. Thnak you, Claire.

To properly receive this award, the recipient must:

Include the award in your post or blog (see the pretty award up there in the corner) ✓
Answer 10 questions about yourself. (this is a pie walk because they're given to me.) ✓
Nominate 10 other bloggers for this award. (quickly or your award won't come true.) ✓
Link to the nominees and comment on their blog to let them know they are nominated. ✓
Link to the person who nominated you. (which of course is the first thing I did cause it's last on the list) ✓

10 QUESTIONS

Favorite Color: Blue. No, green.
Favorite Number: One Million
Favorite Animal: Whale Shark (largest fish on the planet)(and good eaten)(Oh settle down. it's a joke. They're like impossible to land.)
Favorite non-alcoholic drink: Vanilla Milkshake (with a shot of rum. What? It was non-alcoholic for a second)
Facebook or Twitter: I don't understand the question.
My Passion: I love to stay underwater with a tank on my back. Nothing I'd rather do. Nothing.
Giving or Receiving Gifts: RECEIVING !!!!
Favorite Pattern: Wake up. Get some. Eat pancakes with bacon. Watch MST3K. Go for a dive. Eat a pizza. Take in a movie. Get some. Go to bed. Wake up. . .
Favorite Day of the Week: Monday (no joke)
Favorite Flower: Wow. Who knew this would be the toughest question. I like this one:

10 Nominations of bloggers who have blown sunshine up my skirt on that weird day in December when I actually was wearing one:

I've been there, Claire (In the hopes that she will give this award to me again there by creating a loop in time which we will get stuck in, so I'll like get lots more of these awards.)
Oh, Abigail! (She makes the coolest stuff, some etched. And every day she becomes a more powerful witch. So that's Perfecting her craft while perfecting her crafts)
CRACK YOU WHIP (Not always sure where she's going with her stuff, but it's an awesome ride)
Dr Em and Princess Wewe's Take on Real Life (I think the title says it all)
This is Not That Blog ("Just shut up and appreciate me.")
Big Happy Nothing (A Woman who doesn't know the meaning of the word GPS)
Lola is 40 (Ballot Box Stuffing Mom. Where's the vermouth?)
Eastern Passage Passage (A Woman, her dog and Nova Scotia. Dress warm before reading)
The Perry Bible Fellowship (Sometimes a bit off color. Sometimes a bit wet myself funny)
Murrmurrs (Murr Brewster, Portland, Oregon. Don't give a shit about no award. I'll just be over here sliding around in the mud.)

AND

filing jointly . . . finally (Yes,yes. I know she was already nominated by Claire. Big Whoop! I second the nomination by nominating her again. And she only has to do her obligations once. Win win.

Now will someone please comment.

I feel like it's just me and the crickets. crickets. crickets. crickets. .........

BW.

My Name is Vermicelli

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Fri, 06 Apr 2012 18:10:00 +0000

This is a call I received a few days after making the post: In Seven Days the Italians Created the World.

Me- Hello?
CTS- I do not talk like that!
Me- Talk like what?
CTS- You write of me in your stupid blog.
Me-You read . . . my blog?
CTS- I say stupid blog. You not hear me say stupid?
Me- No, I didn't hear you say stupid. I'm still in shock from learning you can read.
CTS- You make fun with me. Now, you make fun with me again.
Me- What makes you think I was writing about you?
CTS- Because A> only I make Vermicelli a la Sanguinetti. It is my name.
Me- Vermicelli?
CTS- Because B> my initial is C-T-S and C> I remember this conversation. You are so sad when I tell you these truth. I think you cry.
Me- It wasn't about you.
CTS- Ha! You think I am stupid.
Me- Really it wasn't about you at all.
CTS- I know you lie. I call to say you do not write of me in your stupid blog again.
Me- I didn't. I won't. Don't worry.
CTS- Ok.
Me- Ok.
(click)

BW.

For Lauren

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 15:53:00 +0000

Everyone send her warm fluffys on 3.

1. 2. 3.

BW.

In Seven Days the Italians Created the World

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 07:18:00 +0000

Me- What are we making?

CTS- We? This is Vermicelli a la Sanguinetti.

Me- What can I do?
CTS- Cooking is man's job. Go drink vino with women.
Me- I think you're missing the point. Get together. Friends doing stuff. Together. Like cooking. Besides, they sent me in here.

CTS- Ok. If you must, you boil water.

Me- Yeah! I'm going to boil something.

CTS- Add salt. You need to add salt.

Me- Right. Salt for flavor.

CTS- No. Salt is to make boil temperature hotter. Cooking time is faster. Pasta has better texture.

Me- I'm adding salt to the water which I will boil.

CTS- More salt. Add more salt and oil. Add very little olive oil.

Me- Right. So the pasta doesn't stick together.

CTS- No. Oil is so foam does not boil over side of pot.

Me- Ok. I'm adding oil to the water which I will boil. What next?

CTS- More water. Add more water. Pasta must have room to swim. You really know nothing of to cook.

Me- I'm stronger in other areas.

CTS- Like what?

Me- History. (I knew this was a mistake as soon as I'd said it.)

CTS- Ha! What does the American know of history. Your country is baby. You have no history.

Me- Do so.

CTS- Ha! Italians have greatest civilization in history while you play with sticks. And who discover your baby country? An Italian.

Me- Actually, I think Bjarni Herjólfsson got there first.

CTS- Ha! Does your country have Hairfission Day? No. You have Columbus Day. And your country has that wrong. His name was-

Me- Cristóbal Colón. I know that one.

CTS- Ha! His name was Cristoforo Colombo. Italiano. Born in Italy. You give him American name. You try to steal from Italy. You want to steal all from Italy?
(He was getting exciting)

Me- What are you talking about?

CTS- Who invent telephone?
(I knew this was a trick question. I began removing the knifes from his vicinity.)

Me- Alexander Graham Bell.

CTS- Ha! Antonio Meucci invent telephone first. Italiano. Radio? Marconi. Italiano. Benjamin Franklin?
(He was fully animated now, using every part of his body to speak.)

Me- Italian?
CTS- NO! He play with kite. But Alessandro Volta invent first electric battery. Italiano. Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni. Italiano. We give world alphabet, highway, arch, dome, calendar, piano, Fellini, Ferrari.

Me- Mussolini, the mafia & the ice cream cone.

CTS- What has America done?

Me- We put a man on the moon.

CTS- Apollo 11? Ha!
Me- Ha, what?
CTS- Italy is there.

Me- I'm sorry but Neil Armstrong was not Italian.

CTS- No, but Michael Collins is born in Roma.

Me- That's thin.

CTS- Truth. And not so important to put man on moon. Yuri Gagarin is 1/8 Italiano.

Me- So basically, all the things we have in this world we should thank the Italians for.

CTS- Yes.

Me- Italians didn't invent modesty.

CTS- Ha! You are funny.

Me- The water's boiling. My work here is done.

CTS- Go drink vino with women.

Me- You're ugly.

BW.

You owe me, kid.

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 09:02:00 +0000

That's him on the left.

In January, I met my 6 (now 7) year old Godson for the first time. He wasn't as sticky as I thought he would be. And he's not really my Godson, because . . . well, it went like this:

Me- Hello?
HI- How's my best friend?
Me- Who is this?
HI- Zurich 1995. An unpaid bar tab, a stolen motor boat that only went in reverse and a ping pong paddle.
Me- Oh crap. You. Didn't we pinky swear never to mention that night again?
HI- I have something serious to ask you.
Me- I still don't know why men have nipples.
HI- Serious.
Me- Ok. Go ahead.
HI- Will you be the Godfather of my son?
Me- Wow. You got someone pregnant?
HI- My wife.
Me- You got married?
HI- A year ago.
Me- And you're having a baby.
HI- I have a son. He's 4 months old.
Me- (mumble mumble) carry the two. (mumble) That there is shot gun math. I used my fingers.
HI- You have 12 fingers?
Me- Depends on the time of day.
HI- Back to the question. Will you be my son's Godfather?
Me- This is some kind of honor, right?
HI- Yes.
Me- Can you tell me a little bit more about the position. I'm really not looking for a job right now and I have no idea, you know.
HI- Basically, you send him gifts on his birthday and for Christmas.
Me- Every year !?
HI- Supposedly.
Me- I have no money. He'd get like 7-Eleven gifts. Rubber bands, maybe, if anything. Oh wait, I have a bunch of pizza tables lying around here.
HI- You also become his legal guardian if anything happens to me and my wife.
Me- I do? (probably sounded too eager)
HI- On second thought, I will rephrase. You will become his legal guardian if both myself and my wife die and both of my wife's parents die and all four of my parents die and also if all of my brothers and sisters die. And crazy Uncle Erich has to die too.
Me- So, one well placed bomb at your family reunion and the little guy is mine, did I hear that right?
HI- Err. Yes, I guess.
Me- Cool.
HI- So you accept?
Me-

(swimmy lines. Begin dream sequence)
(BING - BONG)
Me- Little Timmy, there's someone at the door.
LT- I'll get it, Uncle. I was just finishing your Martini. Shaken not stirred, just how you like it.
Me- Good Boy. And hurry up or you'll be late for school.
LT- It's two in the afternoon.
Me- Oh. Well, better luck tomorrow.
(enter Child Services)
CS- We've come to take Timmy away.
Me- Why? What has he done?
CS- We are investigating allegations made by your neighbors that you are an unfit guardian.
Me- Ouch.
CS- Is Timmy in attendance at parties that take place in this apartment and, I'm quoting here, rage out of control until dawn or until the police break them up?
Me- The kids one hell of a bartender. You should taste his Martini. Here taste.
CS- Is it also true that you possess a firearm and that Timmy discharges it on a regular basis?
ME- Define regular?
CS- Anything more than never.
Me- I can explain that. You see we have these cockroaches in the kitchen, see and the kids a way better shot than I am. Did I mention he makes a mean Martini?
CS- He's five.
Me- I know, right? But the kids a natural.
CS- Timmy, you'll have to come with us.
LT- Uncle?
Me- Don't worry, Little Timmy. We'll fight this thing. I'll spend every last dime I have to get you . . . Aw, who am I fooling. Bye, Little Timmy. It was a good run. Make new friends!
LT- UNCLE!
(swimmy lines. End dream sequence)

Me- (blink)
HI- Well?
Me- No.
HI- Why the @#$% not?
Me- Because I care about the tyke. I've never even met him but I feel like we've bonded in some way. And that bond means I have to look out for him and protect him from things whenever possible. And I will start by sparing him from having me as a Godfather.
Hi- You're an idiot.
Me- On behalf of my newest buddy . . . what's his name, now?
HI- @#$% you.
Me- On behalf of my newest buddy, @#$%-You, I want you to find a rich reliable friend of yours. Someone who is responsible and will make sure @#$%-You gets a real nice present on his birthday and another one on Christmas every year. And that is who you make his Godfather. That way @#$%-You will at least get some cool stuff out of the deal.
HI- That's kind of noble of you in a not-like-you kind of way. You're screwing up everything, you know that.
Me- Wait, there's more. When he's 16 we can tell him about this conversation and about my big sacrifice on his behalf. Then we take him to Zurich. No boats.
HI- Ok. I will agree to that but you have to agree to be his Secret Godfather.
Me- What are Secret Godfather's responsibilities?
HI- Nothing.
Me- That I can do. I accept. I am now the official Secret Godfather of your son, @#$%-You.
HI- One more thing.
Me- What's that?
HI- His name's not @#$%-You.
Me- Too bad.

BW.

Follow MEEEEEEEE !

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 13:01:00 +0000

(Disregard this --> 2PYF283NH9G8) This is all Greg's fault.

Me- (singing: 8675309) Hello?
GH- How is the Twitter Newbie doing?
Me- Awesome. I already have 22 lovely ladies following me, thank you very much. Who knew Twitter was such an ego boost?
GH- You're hopeless.
Me- If my followers are any indication, I'm a Rock Star.
GH- You do not have any followers. That's why I called.
Me- Do so. Do so. Do so.
GH- The people following you are not people.
Me- That makes no sense. Could it be you're threatened by my 22 followers?
GH- Please. I have real people following me. Not fake people like you.
Me- Don't dis my followers. They all chose me, meaning they all have great taste.
GH- You are being followed by fake accounts. These women don't exist.
Me- BING! That makes 23. Tawny Nolebody is now following you on Twitter!
GH- She's a porn advertisement. They are all porn advertisements.
Me- Pfffft. Say what?
GH- They are fake accounts set up with photos of attractive women whose profiles link back to porn sites.
Me- Are not.
GH- Are to.
Me- That's so cruel. Why would anyone do that?
GH- Did you ever check out any of their profiles?
Me- Maybe.
GH- You didn't. Did you?
Me- bizitweetin.
GH- What?
Me- I said I was busy tweeting.
GH- Click on Tawny Nobody's photo.
Me- It's Nolebody.
GH- Whatever. Read what's listed for her home website.
Me- great-oral-sex-69.net. So?
GH- Porn site.
Me- How can you tell?
GH- You need to block all those girls.
Me- Why? No way.
GH- No real person, and by that I mean people who actually exist, will follow you if your only followers are porn advertisements.
Me- Man, this Twitter is way too judgemental.
GH- They're not real. You need to block them. Do you hear me?
Me- Yes. Yes. Blah blah. Block head. Got it.
GH- You will block them?
Me- I said I . . Ooo look. Number 24. Helloooo Rebecca.
GH- Hopeless. (click)

Why you should follow:

-Because I will keep you updated on what I'm doing and how I'm feeling every minute of the . . . hold on a second . . . Tweet: @everyone Just put cereal box back in cupboard. Put milk in fridge. . . . ok. where was I . . . oh, right. I'll keep you in the loop about my . . . wait another second . . . Tweet: @everyone Feeling a panic attack coming on. Will keep you posted. Sorry, we'll have to finish this later. I have to lie down now. I'm worried about the cereal box being all by itself in the cupboard. Tweet: @everyone I am lying down. Worried about . . . .

-Because I'm the greatest. Stan, said so. Stan was drunk at the time and was saying You're the greatest to everyone but I know he only said it to everyone so they wouldn't feel bad when he finally got to me and really meant what he said. Stan knows things. It's spooky.

-Because I will let you know as soon as I've posted something new to my blog at least once. Maybe twice. Probably not three times. I know you know how to subscribe and all but you'll get a Tweet just the same. In case the subscribe thingy isn't working that day.

-Because I will send you phrases like Life is short. Art is long. all day. Health is Wealth. Winning is earning; losing is learning. Something is burning . . .

-Because if you follow me NOW you will get over a million followers yourself. Guaranteed! Don't ask me how this works! Just do it! It's for real!

-Because I love you.

BW.

Follow MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Follow @BobthewaterCat

-Because It will really boil Greg's potatos.

Strande's Lot

noreply@blogger.com (Bob The Water Cat) — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 20:01:00 +0000

Strande, Germany

♣ My land lady is very nice to me. It's creepy. We have short conversations every day.

LL- You're imagining me wearing a pointy hat again.
Me- Maybe.
LL- I'm not a witch.
Me- I know you're not. There's no such thing.
LL- I'm going into the other room, now.
Me- Ok. I'll stay here. (under my breath when she's out of ear shot) witch.
(from the other room)
LL- I'm not a witch.

Only a witch could have heard that.

♣ When I first moved in, there were cobwebs everywhere. She told me she had just cleaned and asked if I liked spiders. Do I like spiders? They were not spiders. They looked like spiders only they were much bigger. You could saddle these things. I had a Johnny Quest flash. I only sleep in short shifts. Two hours max. Any longer and they'll have me pinned in webbing. I wake up and destroy their work so they have to start again. I tell them I will not be cocooned. I hear spider giggles as I drift back to sleep.

♣

Self explanatory

Barghest & Galleytrot

♣ One of the friendly neighbors tried to strike up a conversation with me as I was walking by on the street.

FN- What do you want?
Me- Huh?
FN- What are you doing here?
Me- (I checked behind me. No one.) Me? I'm looking for a 1933 Gold Double Eagle.
FN- Mmmm. You don't belong here.
Me- I'm renting from the ~~witch~~ lady that lives over there. (I pointed)
FN- Aaah So.

Germans really do say Ach So when they have clarity. Although, I'm not totally sure that's what he said.

♣

Tail of Lion

The lion's tail disturbs me. I found it on a path running between two cabbage fields. I can only guess at the circumstances. Why would anyone rip the tail off a stuffed lion? Bad Lion. Bad. I will teach you not to be so cute and cuddly. Let's see how you like . . . not having a TAIL! Followed by a sick little game of I-Got-Your-Tail. I got your tail. Iiiiiiiiiii got your tail.

I left it be. In fact, I gave it a wide berth. It might have been rigged to explode. Or bait. It might have been bait, resting gently on top of a craftily hidden trap in the ground. I'd wind up in someone's cellar putting things in a basket.

If I see a second lion's tail on the ground, I'll wet myself.

♣

Murder Weapon
(Past or Potential)

♣ Maybe the lion's tail is a special ingrediant in a potion.

♣ I came across a sweet old woman who was loading something heavy into the back of her car. Probably a body.

Me- Would you like some help?
OW-
Me- That looks heavy. Can I help you? (I took a step towards her pantomiming 'lift object')
OW- (she took a step backwards)
Me- (speaking very slowly, so as not to spook her.) Would you like some chocolate?
OW-
Me- こんにちは。私は先のとがった帽子を身に着けているあなたを想像しています。
OW- (makes a noise that sounds like she's deflatiing)
Me- Ok then. I've got to run. Tomorrow? Same time?

♣

Santa carries vampire
stakes when in Strande.

Bat
House

♣ My land lady has a toaster on her coffee table. I've never asked.

LL- Did you have a nice walk?
Me- Yes. Do any children live in this village?
(I swear she licked her lips.)
LL- No. Not any more.
Me- Where's your broom?
LL- Why?
Me- Some of the spiders are getting bold, again.
LL- A lot of people have brooms. It doesn't make them witches.
Me- I know that. There's no such thing as witches.
LL- Should be a heavy fog this evening.
Me- Won't that be nice. (when I was safely back in my room) witch.

BW.

Please ~~help~~ comment.