Got your popcorn and Milk Duds?

Dim the lights, turn off your cell phones, sit back and relax, because it’s time for Clown Day: The Movie!

If you want to watch it in widescreen, please view it at YouTube.

Enjoy!

Clown Day was a huge success, except for the fact that students on our campus couldn’t have cared less that a clown walked among them. I’m still calling it a win because no one threw a pie at me.

I’ll recap the day and then let you enjoy the movie trailer we produced to commemorate events. I’m submitting it to Sundance. They take everything.

The day began with my clown assistant sister Marlene collecting me at my house. I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to eat later, and she immediately chastised me for putting too much of everything on the bread. I can’t do anything right.

We piled in the car and headed to work, getting noticed by no one. We clowned around in my office with everyone who came to get an eyeful. Took video and pictures and then headed out to our first stops.

No one said anything to us. And I looked like this. I don’t get it either.

Students, if anything, simply glanced and put their heads back down. Only one student spoke. “Run! Run away!”

Wow. Tough crowd.

We headed for visits to various buildings on campus, stopping at my satellite office, where I followed a grad student back to hers, saying “Would you mind if I followed you back to your desk? in the creepiest way possible. Until I told her who I was, she would not look me in the eye. Note to self. Creepy is only fun for the clown.

Before we knew it, lunch time! We headed to a deli nearby, where I had my first and last PBJ sandwich. I know I made it wrong. I know I used the wrong jelly (strawberry), but that didn’t matter. I was a “mouth feel” thing. Jelly too slimy. Make clown sad.

So my videographer graciously offered me half his BLT sandwich. Bacon good. Make clown happy.

The rest of the afternoon was more of the same: Students not caring, but friends and co-workers loving it.

By 3PM, my clown assistant and I were exhausted. Clowning is much harder than I thought it would be. You always have to be ON. We felt OFF by then and decided to head home.

Made a quick visit to my clown assistant’s workplace for pictures. Found out that her co-worker’s son is a campus police officer where I work and got the email that I sent warning that a clown would be on-campus (can’t be too careful).

Can you imagine the morning briefing? Be on the lookout for a clown today. She’ll be unarmed and hilarious.

So what did I learn by clowning all day?

• A clown can hold her bladder for eight hours and not suffer any ill effects.
• She can also eat a whole pizza for dinner by herself.
• No one’s butt looks good in a clown suit. Hourglass figure? Forget it.
• A blue afro rocks.

Thanks go again to my sister for helping me with picture-taking and lugging all my clown paraphernalia around. Clowning is hard, but I think clown assisting is harder.

Jason Slipp, my good friend and co-worker, filmed and edited the following movie trailer. Thanks for your creative spirit, time and talent! (Movie to come in a later post).

Here you go!

Many of you know that this Friday, January 20th, is Clown Day.

The day I agreed I would go to work dressed in full clown gear after you donated so much to my food bank fundraiser.

Let me tell you, it’s hard being a clown. But it’s also some of the most fun I’ve had in my life.

In the past weeks, I went shopping for just the right clown suit, makeup, a wig the size of a basketball, white gloves, a dozen balloons and a tote bag to keep all my girly clown things secured.

It took me four attempts at a face to land on one I’m happy with. YouTube videos helped, and so did pictures on the Internet and makeup packaging. I started out with a dreadful Joan Crawford face, but wound up with much more cheerful one in the end.

I took my clown self for an “in public” test drive yesterday, visiting my mother first. I had to call and warn her that she would not recognize my fully-painted face and to please not attack me with a baseball bat.

I drove around town before and after and waved at anyone who would look at me. If you have a bucket list, put clowning on it! It’s a laugh a minute!

All but one person waved back or smiled.

That one person who didn’t?

He flipped me the bird at an intersection.

I think he needed a hug. If you can’t smile back at a clown, you’re dead inside. That’s all I have to say about that.

So that you can all follow along with my clownal shenanigans, I’ve set up a Facebook page that you can “Like.” I’ll post pictures and updates as often as possible.

I’ll also blog about it after, with plenty of photos and video.

You are as much a part of this as anyone I run into that day. I hope you enjoy following along with me for the ride.

Thank you again for making the food bank fundraiser a huge success!

Kauai, Hawaii – A distraught chicken was responsible for the delay of two flights out of a Kauai, Hawaii airport today after blocking passengers from boarding their flights until his travel complaints were addressed. One passenger was injured.

Charles “Chuck” Poulet, of Duluth, Minnesota, was scheduled to meet his long-time girlfriend, Marie Fowler, at Hilo International Airport, but his Air Pacific flight was rerouted to Kauai a short time before scheduled landing due to poor weather conditions.

Airport officials attempted to book Poulet on another flight to Hilo the next day, but Poulet insisted the airport get him on an earlier flight so he could meet Fowler on time for a surprise marriage proposal.

Kauai Airport customer service representatives reported there were no flights scheduled that would get Poulet to Hilo any earlier than the following morning.

Poulet said he’d been planning this trip for months, since Fowler gave him an ultimatum. She told me last year “If you’re serious about our relationship, you betta put a ring on it,” Poulet said.

Poulet and Fowler have been long-distance dating for five and a half  years.

“I started planning this thing where she and I would meet in Hilo for a trip of a lifetime. Hawaii. The ultimate, right?” Poulet said. “I wanted to make it something special, you know? And now it’s all clucked up.”

In addition to landing at the wrong airport, Poulet complained that he was not given adequate time or assistance to retrieve his carry-on luggage, bags that contained not only his preening equipment, such as specially-designed combs and gel products, but also the carry-on that contains the tiny opal ring that he plans to present to Fowler.

“I have to have that stuff. If I don’t show up with a ring and if my feathers aren’t just so, I can’t face her,” Poulet said. “I’m a mess over this.”

Flight attendants could not be reached for comment. However, airport policy states that all luggage, carry-on and checked, must be unloaded for any re-routed passengers who are booked on later flights.

Poulet reportedly nipped at the heels of nearly all passengers waiting to board their flights to other Hawaiian islands, in protest to what Poulet felt was subpar customer service.

Katherine Johansson, of New York, New York, required first aid for an injury she sustained when Poulet repeatedly pecked at her flip-flopped feet. “The guy’s insane. I mean, everyone suffers some kind of delay at airports. People, chickens. Everyone,” she said. “I’m sympathetic to his situation, but weather’s weather. It happens. But now my feet are bleeding.”

Poulet also allegedly flew around the airport in spurts of 10-12 feet at a time, in an effort to disrupt two Hawaiian Airlines flights attempting to depart in the hours after his flight landed.

“We can fly if we need to,” Poulet said. “It’s tough, but it’s possible. If only I could fly to Hilo.”

Poulet confessed, “I didn’t mean to scare other passengers. I just wanted to get on an earlier flight. They said they would pay for a shuttle to get me to another airport, but man, what a hassle.”

Poulet’s behavior caused delays for both flights, 30 minutes and 20 minutes respectively, until airport officials could secure the check-in areas.

Air Pacific officials were eventually able to convince Poulet that he would make it to Hilo within four hours of his original flight arrival time, taking a shuttle van and then a puddle jumper flight to the island. Poulet agreed to the arrangement and accepted vouchers for his flight home to Minnesota on January 18.

No charges were filed.

Public relations director, Andrew Fenton, reported that Poulet was put on a van and given all of his luggage, which Poulet inspected carefully before departing.

“The ring is dazzling, isn’t it?” Poulet said. “She’ll be one happy chick.”

*photo credit: Billy Ayers

Today my sister Marlene and her husband treated me to lunch at a place I’ve only ever gone to before for ice cream.

When we pulled up to the place, I asked Marlene if instead of a real meal, I could just have ice cream for lunch.

She shut me down before I could make my case for chocolate chip cookie dough as an entree. “No, not unless you eat something healthy first.”

Poop on you!

I said “Yeah, that’s like Mom always said when I wanted junk food. Remember? She’d say ‘First you have to have meat, cheese, tuna fish or egg.’” Apparently, protein buys you cookies later.

“No, I don’t remember and how specific is that? Geesh,” Marlene replied.

I told her I loved Mom’s stock answer for its nonsensical quality and if I ever wrote a book, that’s what I was going to call it. Meat, Cheese, Tuna Fish or Egg. It doesn’t make any sense without explanation and surely, anyone reading the title would be compelled to pick up my book and flip through its pages.

And then they would laugh themselves silly reading random portions of the gem in their hands, be in awe of all the rock star authors who gave it rave reviews and wonder why my creation was deep in the bowels of the bookstore, when it should be right at the front door all by itself on an easel, with a spotlight shining upon it and a velvet rope around it.

A dreamer I was.

What I want to know from those with mothers who say weird things…. let’s have it.

Tell us your favorite motherly sayings, admonishments, crazy rules or regulations that you remember to this day.

The less they made sense, the better.

Go!

My sister sent me this notice she received at the insurance company where she works:

Member/Dependent Premium – The premium will reflect a monthly premium. For Monthly billed plans, nothing needs to be done with the premium. For quarterly, semi-annual and annually billed plans, the premium needs to be monthletized (made to reflect a monthly premium).

Quarterly billed plans: MI Quarterly Premium / 3

Semi-annual billed plans: MI Semi Annual Premium / 6

Annually billed plans: MI Annual Premium / 12

Monthletized?

Sorry, but you can’t just make up words, people. And if you have to put the definition in parentheses so people know what the hell you’re talking about, there’s proof you can’t use it.

So says me.

But if they get to use made-up words and get away with it, so should I.

I submit for your review:

1. Dinnerate – to make a meal out of food products for consumption between the hours of 5:00PM and 8:00PM.

2. Bathletize – to make yourself clean with soap and water in a large vessel, sometimes combined with a shower, sometimes standalone. Or if you like old-style charm, claw-footedized.

3. Readify – to look at and understand words in a book for entertainment or scholarly purposes.

4. Calculatate – to use a calculator or computer to perform mathematical computations. See also, mathemalate.

5. Purrification – a cat’s act of expressing approval by making soft, vibratory sounds. May result in snugglification between owner and cat.

6. FedExcitation – the exhilaration felt when receiving a delivery from an express shipping service.

7. Charminimum – the point at which you’re down to the last roll of toilet paper.

8. Examinightmare – those terror-filled dreams you have a decade after graduating college, where you think you have finals the next day and haven’t studied at all.

9. Yule blog – a blog post about Christmas.

10. Pointificate – to continue making an argument for something, long after people got annoyed and stopped listening.

Got any others? I’m all earified.

A week ago I wrote and asked you to please donate to a food bank in my area so I could win a Christmas lights tour arranged by a columnist at my local newspaper (pictured left).

I challenged you to raise enough funds so I could win the trip and we could all help hungry people in my area go a little less hungry.

I offered to do one of three crazy tasks if you hit my target.

You did not disappoint.

Oh, no you didn’t.

I’m almost in tears here as I write that not only did you raise enough to reach my goal of $750, but you dug deep enough to raise $865. With my family’s own contribution, that makes $1,115 in a single week!

What this means is that the Second Harvest Food Bank can distribute 10,035 pounds of food to the needy.

That’s five tons of food.

Tons. of. food. Do you hear me???

I am so overwhelmed by your generosity that I decided to do not just one of the three tasks I said I’d do, but all three.

So I’m going to eat my first ever peanut butter and jelly sandwich, dress as a clown for a whole day of work, and get my ass on a horse for the first time in my life.

I plan to do these things after the new year and post video of everything on the blog.

I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you wanted to help and that, even in this tough economy, you sent in a mountain of donations to help those you will never meet.

I kind of hate Christmas. The commercialization of it has soured me. It makes me dread the season. I don’t have a lick of Christmas in my house.

But I have it in my heart, where it means the most, because of you.

Thank you for showing the power of giving and fellowship. My family and I are truly grateful that you gave so willingly, so much and so quickly.

I am blessed to know you.

We’re embracing the crazy again at The Junk Drawer. If I gave you the chance, what would you dare me to do? Something gross? Something scary? Something embarrassing?

If I offered the power to choose one of those things, and I promised to do it on camera, would you pay for the opportunity?

Read on and see how the crazy works.

Bill White, a columnist from my local paper, The Morning Call, sponsors a fundraiser every year for a food bank in our area.

He’s also responsible for one of my family’s most-anticipated holiday traditions – visiting elaborately decorated homes on a Christmas lights tour that he designs based on reader submissions.

He drives by every nominated home and publishes a tour of the very best ones, including driving directions to take from house to house. It’s a huge deal around these parts and my family picks one of the routes to enjoy every year.

What’s really fun is that Bill turned his fundraising efforts and the lights tour into a challenge for his readers to collect as much as possible for a chance to win a personal tour with him.

Those who make the largest donations to the Second Harvest Food Bank of the Lehigh Valley get to be driven around in style to see homes on the tour.

And I want a tour!

Here’s where you come in.

If I can reach my fundraising goal of $750 by December 14 that should guarantee me and my family a tour with Bill.

AND! My sisters and I are willing to match your gifts (up to $250).

What’s in it for you besides spreading Christmas cheer? YOU. GET. POWER.

Your reward for making a donation is to vote on which of the following you’d like to see me do. I MUST DO whichever one receives the most votes.

1. Eat my first ever peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Many of you know I find these two foods together a rather disgusting combination. I’ve gone my entire life without one, but I’d make an exception if it meant others could go a little less hungry.

2. Ride a horse. Some of you may recall this being on my list of 10 Things I Don’t Have the Guts To Do. I’m afraid. I’m afraid. I’m afraid. And the horse should be, too. Do horses have weight limits?

3. Wear full clown gear to work all day. Face paint, big red shoes, wig. Everything. I will work as normal on my clients’ computers, go to meetings, and eat lunch with strangers. In public.

If you’re willing to donate, please use the ChipIn tool below to make a secure contribution. And THANK YOU!

Then leave a comment indicating which task you’d like me to do. If I hit my goal, I’ll get the job done and post back with a video of me in action.

REMEMBER: ALL DONATIONS DUE BY DECEMBER 14! That’s not a lot of time, but I know you can do it.

You have the power!

Think where man’s glory most begins and ends. And say my glory was I had such friends. – William Butler Yeats

We lost Windy.

Our area suffered a freak autumn snowstorm the weekend of October 29. Because leaves were still on trees, snow clung to them and the weight took down many limbs, whole trees and power lines. Hundreds of thousands were without power for days.

I worried about Windy, but I still had hope.

And yet when I checked her tree on Tuesday, when all the leaves were down, she was nowhere to be found.

Not a speck. I looked. Believe me, I looked.

Her limb is still intact, though another one below snapped and had to be sawed off by maintenance. Here is how her tree looks now. After the storm, the tree splayed at the top and hasn’t bounced back. It may never.

When I think back to how our friendship with Windy began, I never imagined she would become so popular at The Junk Drawer.

For years, people would send me pictures of other “Windys’’ they spotted in their daily routines and I always got a kick out of that.

The birthday parties I held for her were great excuses to have cake, but they were also opportunities to tell Windy’s story to people who hadn’t heard it before. The looks I got in return were priceless.

And yes, a lot of people questioned my sanity. But a lot didn’t. Over the years, people would randomly ask me about her. It cracked me up to know she was on their minds and that they knew her enough to ask by name.

A celebrity in the making, she even got her 15 minutes of fame. Most people aren’t so lucky.

We all need a little fun in our lives, a little crazy. And Windy gave us that.

Windy had friends, all of us. We cared about her, checked on her, wondered how she was doin’ up there.

We wanted her to come down, to be safe with me.

We wanted her to live forever, but the fury of nature put an end to that.

I want to thank Windy for all she’s done for me, my blog and my readers.

She got us to “embrace the crazy” and see that even an ordinary, lifeless piece of plastic has the power to bring joy to others.

Think about that. Amazing, right?

So when you pour your favorite beverage today, toast to Windy, will ya? It’ll be our last little act of “collective insanity” and I think that would send Windy’s heart aflutter.

Wherever she is.

Honestly.

I don’t know how anyone tolerated texting in the old days. And by “old days,” I mean last year.

You know the way, don’t you?

Press the number 8 key on your phone once to get a letter “T.”

Press the number 4 key on your phone twice to get a letter “h.”

Press the number 4 key on your phone thrice to get a letter “i.”

Press the number 7 key on your phone four times to get a letter “s.”

Press the number 4 key on your phone thrice to get a letter “i.”

Press the number 7 key on your phone four times to get a letter “s.”

Press the number 2 key on your phone twice to get a letter “b.”

Press the number 8 key on your phone twice to get a letter “u.”

Press the number 5 key on your phone thrice to get a letter “l.”

Press the number 5 key on your phone thrice to get a letter “l.”

Press the number 7 key on your phone four times to get a letter “s.”

Press the number 4 key on your phone twice to get a letter “h.”

Press the number 4 key on your phone thrice to get a letter “i.”

Press the number 8 key on your phone once to get a letter “t.”

Press the star key to get to the punctuation menu for a “.”

Today I texted with the contractor we hired to work on a bathroom. I set out to tell him to arrive at my house at 11:30 and I would leave work and meet him there.

It took me so long to type that message, I had to change the time to 11:40.

I hate texting with my Playskool phone because not only does it take me forever to tap out letters, I must use proper punctuation, spelling and capitalization. I also don’t use “2” for “to” or “u” for “you.”

Shut up. I know I’m making it harder than it has to be, but you gotta admit it’s pretty ludicrous to begin with. Now somebody buy me an iPhone with a data plan and make it snappy.

Happy Thanksgiving blessings to everyone! May your house be full of fun and laughter, your plates be overflowing and your pants be all stretchy like.

Amen.

Yo.

It’s been forever since I had an item for my Food That Looks Like Stuff series.

Today, I have a laughing rhino, courtesy of my egg and cheese breakfast sandwich.

Why do I even know what my melted cheese looks like inside?

Because I never enter the perfect heat time for these stupid things. One microwave I use takes 2 minutes, another 1:45 min, and yet another 1:30.

Because I forget which is which, I usually over-melt my cheese and it comes out scalding hot.

So I lift the lid to my sandwich and let it cool down before shoving it in my pie hole.

I give you, laughing rhino cheese head!

p.s. Rhinos are yummy.

It occurs to me that even though I don’t know much about football, my cats have been studying up.

In particular, both have become exceptionally good defensive tackles when I try to play Facebook Bejeweled.

Defensive tackles play at the center of the defensive line. Their function is to rush the passer and stop running plays directly in the middle of the line of scrimmage.

The line of scrimmage is the six inches between me and my laptop.

To wit:

This method of blocking is very effective, since this large, hairy tackle does not move once the play begins.

She sits there like a rock while the quarterback tries unsuccessfully to click around her body. The QB’s attempts to match falling gems fail miserably until or unless she actually lifts the tackle off the table and places her on the floor.

Now.

The other defensive tackle in this household uses a different strategy, known simply as the tail wag.

This technique sends tail and fur directly into the nose, and sometimes mouth, of the quarterback. The Play of Unmerciful Tickling causes the quarterback to either sneeze or spend the next five minutes in a futile attempt to remove that one hair that’s been bothering her.

It is not necessary for this tackle’s butt to block the entire line of scrimmage, as the tail’s whipping action is plenty effective.

In addition, both tackles have learned the art of the head butt and purring while play is underway. The quarterback has no choice but to abort the game due to obsessive cuteness.

So tell me, how many four-legged defensive tackles do you have? Got any good strategies that work for you?

Or do you just punt?

So. Some of you know that I’m taking Prednisone, a steroid, for injuries I suffered while trying to do something good for my body.

My cardio workouts are to blame for all sorts of hurty problems with my shoulder, knee, bicep and elbow.

This is obvious proof that exercise is stupid and doesn’t really do anything except accelerate your body falling apart.

There. I said it. Stop doing it. It’s dumb.

Anyway, so I’m on this steroid, which is doing next to nothing for me. But I consider myself lucky to not be one of the people who experiences all kinds of side effects like: extreme hunger, mood swings, and a fat face.

Actually, I have all those things already, but whatever. At least it’s not any worse.

What I did experience was super human strength today while cleaning my kitchen floor.

So I’m gettin’ my Swiffer on and all of a sudden I snap the mop like a twig. With no effort whatsoever.

See? All brokey.

Granted, the handle is plastic, but it’s sturdy plastic that should not just break in half.

I get all sorts of angry (mood swing!) because I have to shell out another 30 bucks or so to buy a new one, unless duct tape fixes it.

But then I quickly move through the anger phase, straight to the “I’m a superhero” phase. Look at me! I’m the Hulk now.

So if you need me to chop firewood for you or move some heavy furniture single-handedly, ring me up. Wanna see me lift a car? I can do that, too.

Unless, of course, grandiosity is one of the drug’s side effects. In that case, never mind.

For the last couple weeks since my father passed away, I’ve been visiting my mom in the mornings before work.

This arrangement works great for both of us, as we’re the early risers in the family.

I leave the house at 6AM, stop off at McDonald’s to grab us both coffee and we share some good chat time before I head to the office.

But here’s the problem.

The shopping center where the McD’s is located doesn’t have any lights on in the parking lot at 6AM when it’s still pitch black out.

This means every time I pull into the lot, it’s like an amusement park ride for me. I barely find the entrance, I have to dodge those cement divider thingies with plants in them, and I have to loop back in the dark to get to the McD’s drive-thru.

It’s an exhilarating joy ride where I hope I don’t run someone over or take out my muffler.

So I decided to write the faceless management company who runs the shopping center to ask if they could leave the lights on longer.

Ha! Fat chance, right?

Here’s what I wrote to them, along with what I expected they’d be thinking as they read my impossibly gutsy request (in boldface):

Greetings. I’m writing to inquire about the possibility of having
parking lot lights illuminated in the pre-dawn hours at the Easton, PA
25 St. Shopping Center that your firm rents out. We just take rent checks. We don’t care about lights.

Because one of your tenants, McDonald’s, has a 24/7 drive-thru, there is a fair amount of traffic going in and out of the parking lot without benefit of lighting greater than what McD’s casts off from its building. It’s not enough light. So go ask McDonald’s to turn on more lights.

It’s nearly impossible to find the shopping center entrance on the
McDonald’s side of the parking lot. Are you blind?

As well, there are two cement dividers one needs to drive around in order to access the McDonald’s drive-thru. Can’t you remember where they are every day? It’s not like they move.

From a safety standpoint, more light would be most beneficial. I was nearly hit this morning by a driver who could not see me, even though I had my headlights on. There are bad drivers everywhere. Not. Our. Fault.

Thank you for anything you can do to address my concern. Go to hell.

A mere seven minutes after I emailed them, here’s the response I got:

Kathleen, I will have our maintenance person change the timer for the lights. Please forward any maintenance issues to me.

Um. Wha? I’m speechless. I don’t know what to do here. This never happens.

They listened. They solved. They ROCK!

I’ll toast my next cup ‘o coffee to you, not-so-faceless corporation with a heart!

Today’s post is in honor of my father, who passed away on Friday, September 16.

Some of you may know the stories I’ve written about him on Junk Drawer, many about the trials and tribulations getting Dad set up with his tech toys and Internet access. The man loved his tech toys!

What you might not know is that I credit Dad with having given me his sense of humor. He always had a joke in his back pocket, many I heard for only the first time during his brief hospitalization. He had a million of them.

He always had a quick wit, a lending hand for those in need, and a smile for friends and strangers alike.

Dad loved his music, most especially the polka. He and Mom spent many weekends in the 80s and 90s traveling the polka dance circuit, both locally and around the country.

They were expert dancers and I’m not just saying that. Other dancers would clear the floor when they stepped out, so they could sit on the sidelines and watch the beauty of the polka done right. (And yes, there are really wrong ways to do the polka, and it ain’t pretty).

He loved our mother dearly. They celebrated their 65th wedding anniversary this past June. We were with him virtually round-the-clock in his last week, sharing his life stories, laughing loud and long. We yucked it up to his last day.

My father is responsible for my very first post to the Junk Drawer in 2007. I’d like to share it with you again. It’s a very long post, and please don’t laugh at how badly it’s written. I was so green then.

Pour a cup of coffee, sit back and enjoy Adventures in Tech Support: When Your 82-Year-Old Father Wants to Be on the Bleeding Edge of Technology.

Love you, Dad.