What was that sound, you ask? You can’t tell if it was grinding gears, grinding teeth, tires squealing or grown man screaming like a little girl? How about all of the above. That’s right; my 15 year old son just got his driver’s permit. After looking through The Oregon Parent Guide to Teen Driving I realized something very important: Whoever wrote it probably never actually had children. Tomorrow, I’ll be offering a more realistic series of tips for parents with teen drivers.
Here’s a SoundCloud sneak peak…
I hope you’ll stop by again tomorrow for the full post. Unless you’re driving, in which case I’ll understand if you’d rather stay away from Oregon.
Regular visitors to this blog know two things about me. 1) as a rule I generally stay off the Interwebs on weekends, and 2) I avoid pink almost as much as I avoid anything to do with Justin Bieber. And for the record, Justin Bieber wearing pink is the first sign of my own personal apocolypse.
But today is special. Today I am Jolene’s guest at Valley Girl Gone Country, where I’m joining Ben’s Bitter Blog, Fat Bottom Girl, The Bestie, Cover Reveals and Wyndy Dee this week while Jolene is away. I’m not entirely sure Jolene knows about this. But we all have keys to her blog, so that’s good enough for me. It’s going to be a fun week, so I hope you’ll stop in today and each day! Plus, we could use your help cleaning up… Here’s the link! Valley Girl Gone Country
I’d like to thank the American Dental Association for sponsoring this week’s writing tip, which brings me to a startling statistic: 4-out-of-5 dentists have never recommended or even heard of this blog. The fifth dentist only heard about it when, moments after my lips went numb, I was trying to say “Ben Roethlisberger’s lob” and he thought I said “Ned’s worthless blog.” Regardless, there are many similarities between keeping a fresh feeling to your writing and avoiding gingivitis. So think of me as your “literary orthodontist” as I take you through a quick writer’s check-up.
(Please remember I don’t have a saliva vacuum…)
Flossing:
A good dentist will tell you it’s important to floss between meals, and will demonstrate its importance by flossing for you during your visit. That’s unless he also happens to be your proctologist, in which case I’d like to welcome you to the new National Health Care Plan. Continue reading Want to keep your writing fresh? Start with regular flossing
I realize many of you have to come expect very high-brow, sophisticated posts here. In fact, it is often referred to as “the thinking man’s humor blog.” Maybe not in so many words, but I know what people are getting at when they comment: “Farting is so FUNNY!”
But today’s post is a deviation (see the kind of vocabulary I’m talking about?) from the regular. It is a short exploritory video that, in fact, expresses that I have my occasional moments of irregularity.
It might also explain why our cat sometimes poops in my shoes…
At three o’clock this morning I propped myself up on my elbows, removed my ear plugs, looked directly at our dog and delivered the following ultimatum:
This has to STOP!
My wife turned to me and quietly said I’d need to speak up if I wanted to be heard over the dog’s snoring. Admittedly, it was my bright idea to have Stanley sleep in our room. That’s because, when he was a puppy, he was prone to chew up things we might leave out overnight.
Such as the living room or kitchen.
However, at nine years old, his snoring now sounds like a 250-pound man sleeping-off a three-day bender. Part of Stanley’s problem is genetics. Being half Shar-pei, he has a lot of loose skin and wrinkles. He essentially looks like a chocolate Labrador in need of ironing. In desperation, we took him to the vet, who told us that the loose skin around his face causes him to snore.
As I scrolled through my Facebook this morning and no less than 10 “hilarious” cat videos that made me appreciate my own cat’s general indifference to everything, I came across a post from talented writer, blogger, wife, mother of three and Sisterwives member Gretchen Weber Kelly. She mentioned how she has come to the realization she can’t write with her kids at home.
Please join me in attempting to appear utterly shocked by this admission.
OK, we can all stop because she’s not buying it.
With summer vacation less than 10 weeks away for many schools… There! THAT’S the face we were looking for!… Gretchen was asking for suggestions, advice, the name of a harmless sleep aid that could induce a three-month hibernation period for her children, or any tips for maintaining her writing momentum through the summer while her kids are at home. Her question made me think of a Nickel’s Worth on Writing post from a while back regarding the importance of establishng a writing routine, no matter what that routine is.
When I first started writing in an actual newsroom, my routine consisted of sitting at my desk, staring blankly at the screen and banging on my keys as quickly as possible until it was time to go home, where I would do my actual writing.
My youngest son is 15, athletic and highly driven. He is also developing the need for a personal assistant to remind him about — or bring him — things he forgets on an almost-daily basis. When he texted me this morning asking if I could bring his baseball cap, which he needed in order to play in the game — and which he needed sometime in the next 20 minutes before the team bus left — I snapped my phone closed, sat back in my chair and exclaimed “I’m becoming Pepper Potts!”
After getting the blindfold on Skippy the wild squirrel last week, I’ve decided it’s just easier to leave it on.RELEASE THE SQUIRREL!
I realize it’s April Fool’s Day, but this is no joke. The retrospective of The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) in our newsroom has come to an end. But by request, we’ll be spending Wednesdays during April looking back at The Box (Of Weird Unclaimed Photos) in our newsroom with Skippy the Wild, Blindfolded Squirrel.
For those who are unfamiliar with this past weekly feature, or who, after reading this introduction, feel they might be having a stroke, let me explain.
The Box is a collection of odd, unidentified photos which — just like many items in our break-room refrigerator — have remained unclaimed for 10 years or more. Utilizing my journalistic training, combined with the full extent of our 1980s computer technology, I attempt to explain the circumstance surrounding a randomly chosen photo from The Box. This random selection process is achieved by me quietly dumping the photos onto the floor and then, just as quietly, releasing a Skippy the Wild, Blindfolded Squirrel into the newsroom. The photo nearest the first reporter to scream or get bitten (possibly both) is the winner! Continue reading Sometimes, investigative journalism calls for a wild squirrel
Some of you may have noticed I’ve been a little remiss on my blog this week. And while not having our three teens at home during spring break is partially responsible (do I really need to explain?), it’s also because I’ve been preparing for my role in our local production of Thornton Wilder’s Pulitzer Prize winning play, “Our Town,” in which I play the coveted role of the complex character known as “Angry Farmer.”
As my friend, blogger and internationally-acclaimed thespian (he lives in Canada) Ross Murray can tell you, emersing yourself in such a pivotal, two-word performance is emotionally exhausting. However, it was all worth it when I overheard our director describe my portrayal of “Angry Farmer” to the rest of the cast as “Ned’s role of a lifetime. I promise. Even if we all have to change our phone numbers.”
Given that kind of endoursement for my natural acting ability, I felt obligated to share some of my secrets with other thespians with this short how-to video: Ned’s Secrets to Incredible Acting
As I mentioned in the video, the final shows are this weekend. So if you happen to be on the central Oregon coast, I hope you’ll stop in to see my portrayal of “Angry Farmer.” One of our directors, Jennifer Connor, told me my performance is “unforgivable.”
I’m sure she meant “unforgettable,” but I know she’s been under a lot of stress…
(Today, I’m posting from the Long Awkward Pause science desk, which I believe gets its name from the fact that it’s also our lunch table — where there are globs of unidentified organisms…)
Scientists at Cornell University have created a device capable of measuring the weight of a single cell. This is big news because it moves us beyond the limits of sub-gram measurements “nano,” “pico” and “femto,” and into an exciting new realm of measurements known as “zeppo,” “harpo” and “groucho.” This could eventually lead to the smallest and least-known unit of measure, “chico.”
Many of you are probably wondering how useful this information really is when it seems most things — cars, houses, Americans in general — are actually getting bigger. Personally, I see no benefit in being able to describe my weight as “a little over 70 trillion harpo-grams.”
Nor do I want to be around when my wife discovers, after eating that extra helping of potato salad this July Fourth, that she not only gained back the 17 trillion zeppo-grams she’d lost, but also put on an extra two billion grouchos. It doesn’t matter that all of this adds up to less than a single uncooked lima bean. What matters is that I make the potato salad, and will therefore be held responsible. (More at LAP)
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