scottobear | 7906 - This and That

Hey! Looks like Thomas Hayden Church as Sandman in Spiderman 3!

here's one scene I bet we won't see...

found via instantloser - a great sounding caramel corn recipe.

Ingredients:

* 4 cups freshly popped corn lightly salted
* 1 cup packed brown sugar
* 1/2 cup butter or margarine
* 1/2 cup corn syrup (light)
* 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
* 1/2 teaspoon baking soda

Directions:

My wife makes this and it has crackerjacks beat;

Put popcorn in shallow roasting pan (large pan). In heavy saucepan mix sugar, butter and corn syrup. Stir over medium heat until boiling. Continue boiling 5 min. without stirring. Remove from heat; add vanilla and baking soda. Pour over popcorn; stir to coat well.

Bake in preheated 250 degree oven for 1 hr., stirring several times. Cool, break apart and store in tightly covered container. (Cool on waxed paper so it won't stick to pan) Note; if desired 1 cup. peanuts may be added to popcorn BEFORE adding caramel sauce.

Removed the Halloween season from my homepage and journal... another month or so, it'll get the yuletide treatment.

Closed off my audio directory for a few weeks... was getting dangerously close to my bandwidth limit, and I still have 21 days to go this month. A lot of Jon Brion - Monday and Sparkplug Minuet Fans out there. If someone really wants something, I'll toss it up to a temporary storage area like yousendit.

I'm looking quite forward to having access to a swimming pool... the urge for a non-briny soak has been pretty high these last few warm days.

Current music is from P:ano's new album Ghost Pirates Without Heads - via popsheep

Pay 'em a visit and snag the mp3, it's worth a sniff.

University of Florida book of insect records

Thanksgiving: The Movie - Jay Pinkerton's Finest work so far. Clever, marketable, and very offensive.

Attitude is Everything.

[Poll #606982]

knitted digestive system

Can you tell I was at home on call yesterday, dear journal?

Have an mp3 with lyrics to meet my current mood:

I was driving on the freeway in the fast lane
With a rabid wolverine in my underwear
When suddenly a guy behind me in the back seat
Popped right up and cupped his hands across my eyes

I guessed, "Is it Uncle Frank or Cousin Louie?"
"Is it Bob or Joe or Walter?"
"Could it be Bill or Jim or Ed or Bernie or Steve?"
I probably would have kept on guessing
But about that time we crashed into the truck

And as I'm laying bleeding there on the asphalt
Finally I recognize the face of my hibachi dealer
Who takes off his prosthetic lips and tells me

Everything you know is wrong
Black is white, up is down and short is long
And everything you thought was just so
Important doesn't matter

Everything you know is wrong
Just forget the words and sing along
All you need to understand is
Everything you know is wrong

I was walkin' to the kitchen for some Golden Grahams
When I accidentally stepped into an alternate dimension
And soon I was abducted by some aliens from space
Who kinda looked like Jamie Farr

They sucked out my internal organs
And they took some polaroids
And said I was a darn good sport
And as a way of saying thank you
They offered to transport me back to
Any point in history that I would care to go

And so I had them send me back to last Thursday night
So I could pay my phone bill on time
Just then the floating disembodied head of
Colonel Sanders started yelling

Everything you know is wrong
Black is white, up is down and short is long
And everything you thought was just so
Important doesn't matter

Everything you know is wrong
Just forget the words and sing along
All you need to understand is
Everything you know is wrong

I was just about to mail a letter to my evil twin
When I got a nasty paper cut
And, well, to make a long story short
It got infected and I died

So now I'm up in heaven with St. Peter
By the pearly gates
And it's obvious he doesn't like
The Nehru jacket that I'm wearing
He tells me that they've got a dress code

Well, he lets me into heaven anyway
But I get the room next to the noisy ice machine
For all eternity
And every day he runs by screaming

Everything you know is wrong
Black is white, up is down and short is long
And everything you used to think was so important
Doesn't really matter anymore
Because the simple fact remains that

Everything you know is wrong
Just forget the words and sing along
All you need to understand is
Everything you know is wrong
Everything you know is wrong

I realized yesterday that I'm a bit of a sensualist. I love getting input from all of my senses.... I'd quite miss any of them, even scent and taste. I love holding Newton, and feeling him snuggle softly against me. I love catching a slight trace of perfume in the air, especially after a lovely woman walks past. Hearing a child laugh (or any honest, happy laughter) is a wonderful thing. Music. The taste of a grilled cheese sammich on a cool day...or a cold beer after doing yardwork. Breath on back of my neck before having it kissed. A meaty punch into the heavy bag. A drop of sweat running down your spine once you start really getting warmed up. Foot rubs, or the contented sigh you hear when you give a good foot rub to someone else. Rain on the window,with thunder in the background. Hydrogen peroxide bubbling on a cut. Newt barking/trilling. People-watching for shapes, colors and patterns of movement. Urban decay's textures, easy to feel or see. Bugs' multifaceted rainbow eyes. It's all really good stuff.

I've wanted a personal jetpack for the longest time. I blame the ol' James Bond and Johnny Quest movies/show.

Whoosh! Even if it could just do enough to super leap across a traffic intersection -- that'd be fine.

These are a cool middle ground.

I'm tempted to pick up the Monster Island series of games, even though I know odds are good that I'll never sit down and play it with anyone. (Unless I visit

graypumpkin in Texas, someday, and even then, we'd probably play Champions or Zombies!.) I think all gamers have a slight compulsion to collect genre stuff, anyhow. There's a 2 for 1 going for a measly $10 right now... maybe I'll gift it to myself as an excuse not to eat takeout for two days.