Einstein Riding Shotgun

CHEESE

2007-06-30T18:46:00.000-05:00

- A link-fest of strange articles about cheese, set to poetry.

Ode on the Mammoth Cheese Weighing over 7,000 pounds

We have seen the Queen of Cheese,
Lying quietly at your ease,
Gently fanned by evening breeze,
Thy fair form no flies dare seize.

All gaily dressed soon you'll go
To the great Provincial show,
To be admired by many a beau
In the city of Toronto.

Cows numerous as a swarm of bees --
Or as the leaves upon the trees--
It did require to make thee please,
And stand unrivalled, Queen of Cheese.

May you not receive a scar as
We have heard that Mr. Harris
Intends to send you off as far as
The great World's show at Paris.

Of the youth -- beware of these--
For some of them might rudely squeeze
And bite your cheek, then songs or glees
We could not sing, o' Queen of Cheese.

We'rt thou suspended from balloon,
You'd cast a shade, even at noon;
Folks would think it was the moon
About to fall and crush them soon.

Analysis of the poem and subsequent links.
Poem
James McIntyre could give a Vogon a run for his money.

Links
Line 2 - I'd actually found this a few months back. (hangs head in shame) Yes. I've been watching cheese on the internet.
Line 3 - 2006 Ig Nobel Prize winner in Chemistry
Line 5 - Truly a very strange man.
Line 7 - Same strange man from line five. Apparently, covering Twiggy in cheese simply wasn't artistic enough.
Line 9 - Gotta love h2g2.

Line 10 - L. Frank Baum was imaginative. I've never read his works. Now that I know he has "cheese trees", I may never read them.
Line 12 - I just can't see it published as a children's book. A bit too... tragic? Or stinky?
Line 13 - He got PAID for HATING cheese. For $500, I could hate cheese. (Well, I could.)
Line 15 - The story that started it all. (see below)
Line 17 - If people would just snort cheese, we wouldn't have a drug problem in this country.
Line 19 - Strange people. Strange blog titles. (Oops. Guess I shouldn't criticize.)
Line 19/20 - Keith Moseley says the band name came from a fortune cookie. I think it's obvious that it was cheese inspired.
Line 21 - The reference I was looking for can be found at approximately 3:00 minutes in, but I enjoyed the entire thing, particularly the ending.
Line 23 - I always wondered about that!

And now I have to ask myself, which is more disturbing:

that people have created multiple forms of art about (and out of) cheese (and in one case attempted murder - see line 17),
that all of these things can be found on the Internet,
or that upon hearing that a man has carved a replica of Mt. Rushmore out of cheese, my reaction was to create this post?

Personally, I'm a bit concerned about the last item.

I promise to provide a more intellectual and/or insightful post next time, or at the very least not mention cheese... even once.

Are you the same Holly who left a comment on my blog??

2007-06-16T02:13:00.000-05:00

I've really meant to properly introduce myself for quite some time now.
Hi. I'm Holly.
I like to comment on other people's blogs.

For the most part, I am not particularly creative. I'd like to think my writing is clear and concise. In reality, I know that my writing comes out in jumbled, rambling sentences. (So bear with me as I ramble along here.)
I once tried my hand at writing fiction. I won't make that mistake again. What I'll write here will mostly be my own personal ramblings, but it will all be true and likely written similar to the way I talk. I simply do not have the knack for writing that some people possess.
I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, and my musical experience is limited to playing the flute (quite badly) in a school band, well over a decade ago. The flute has met it's demise, and so has my playing.
Photography to me is point, click, cuss that it came out funny, and try again. Occasionally I try my hand at photoshop. Even in photoshop my skills are rudimentary and laughable.
Even my humor is a little bit... off.
I don't even apply myself to my one true talent of drawing. No time. No muse. No deadline. Whatever this week's excuse might be.
Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah...
So, if I've commented on your blog, and you are showcasing a particular talent, then I have commented because I respect not only your talent but the fact that you have taken the time to share it with me.

I don't have a particular soapbox to stand on, although I do occasionally find one I'll step up to briefly. What I am, is opinionated. So, if I've commented on your blog, it may have been that you asked me for an opinion. (That'll teach you to ask strangers for answers.) Sometimes I simply cannot help myself. If I ever get too opinionated, you know, to the point that it becomes abrasive, shoot me an email. Let me know. Erase the comment. Whatever it takes to make it right for you.

Otherwise, I find people in general to be fascinating.
I pass by so many people every day, and it would be considered improper for me to ask about their occupation, or new home, or family life, or thoughts on a variety of subjects. Yet, behavior that would be considered nosey, or too forward and assuming, is simply handed to me in published form to read via internet. So, if you've written about an aspect in your life, and I've read about it, I do try to comment. Mostly just to let you know that you've shared it with someone, and that they appreciated it. If I've got anything of value to share, I'll try to leave it behind too.

So, Happy blogging, and remember...
I'm reading, and if I'm reading, I certainly will let you know.

Two hours...

2007-06-16T02:04:00.000-05:00

Ironically, I think that was how long ago I was supposed to be asleep by now. I tried the bed thing. I had a fight with the sheets. I had a fight with a pillow. I had a fight with a small, domesticated feline that wanted to sit on my chest.
I even tried increasing the white noise in the room. I have to sleep with a noisy fan, to drown out any potential noises around me. It's a mental thing. Noises make my brain work, then it doesn't want to go to sleep. Sleep?
Ah, sleep...
... but a vague memory of yesterday.

Quitting smoking seems to have had some uncomfortable effects on my physiology. The most apparent to me, at this moment, a mere four hours from the alarm bell... sleeplessness. Work shall be spectacularly exhausting tomorrow, but I might catch up on some blogs I've been meaning to read now.

Giving it a good quit...

2007-06-14T12:01:00.000-05:00

June 15th... Holly quits smoking.

Reasons to continue smoking:

1. Selfishness - I like it. That's right. I enjoy it.

2. Laziness - Continuing to smoke is easier than trying to quit.

Neither of these qualities are appealing to me. I never realized it before, but my reasons to continue smoking are practically motivations to quit.

Whether practical or ridiculous, I've come up with:

Ten Reasons Holly Should Quit Smoking.

1. Health - Obviously health is a major factor in the reason to quit. No one can argue that the future threat of cancer, emphysema, and high blood pressure are all excellent reasons to stop smoking.

2. Poetry and a Sense of Silly Self-righteousness - When I was a child, I used to taunt my cigarette smoking parents with the following poem:

Tobacco is a nasty weed,
It's the devil that sows it's seed,
It soils your pockets, and scents your clothes,
And makes a chimney of your nose.

(Recited from memory. I apologise, I cannot quote the original author.)

I'd tell my parents they smelled funny, wrinkling my un-chimney-like nose as I said it, and remind them in a self-righteous, child-like way, that it was bad for them. They never heeded my words, though mom has tried to quit many times over the last ten years.
I really ought to follow my own advice. Shouldn't I?

3. The Poem Revisited - Now that I am an adult, the children in my life now give me guilt about my smoking. Hm... justice, I think.
My five-year-old god-daughter learned to give me a very stern, motherly look that conveyed complete disapproval, when I lit up a cigarette. (Don't lecture. If a child is present, I smoke in open air, with a distance between us.)
Another friend's child asked me why I smoke. Not an easy question to answer when discussing it with an eight-year-old. I wasn't impressed with the answer I found. After that discussion, the third week in May, I decided that I needed to get serious about quitting.
The guilt! The guilt! Stop looking at me with those innocence filled eyes asking why anyone would do that to themselves... OK already, I'll quit.

4. Financial - Is that really how I want to spend $60 a month? No.
Instead, I'm going to open a savings account for a trip to Australia. At $60 a month, it'll take me two years to get there. All the same, as I see it, that's a much better use for the money.

5. Attractiveness - According to this website, smoking makes me worth $50,000 less than a nonsmoker. In case you'd like to know, I'm currently worth $1,674,030 as a smoker. (What? Don't look at me like that. I know you fill out these stupid surveys too.)
I'd better quit smoking, just in case I'm sold into the slave market tomorrow.

They list the following unsupported claims, as motivation to quit:

Your appeal to the opposite sex could triple as a non-smoker.
For every day that you are quit, your immune system improves.
Quitting smoking can be one of the biggest factors in improving sexual functioning.
As a non-smoking female, men perceive you as more sexually attractive than when you used to smoke.
A large body of evidence suggests that the risks of neurological diseases such as Parkinson's disease or Alzheimer's disease might be twice as high for non-smokers than for smokers.

6. Dental Health - Yuck. By far, one of the least attractive aspects of smoking. I remember the days when my teeth were pearly white. I remember when my gums weren't receding. Disgusted yet? Yeah, me too. It's not quite as bad a picture as I paint it, but I can see it getting worse if I don't take the steps to prevent further damage and reverse what I've already done. Not to mention, smoker's breath... ew.

7. "The Smoke Mobile" - I quit smoking in my home a long time ago. I didn't like what it did to the home. Stained walls and funky odors just aren't what I want to live in.
For some reason, that philosophy has never carried over to my car. I find it just as repulsive to ride around in the stink, but lighting up is a reaction to sitting in that seat, driving to my destination. Just another part of the habit, I suppose. I'd like to be able to clean the car, and it stay smelling and looking pretty. I guess I'll just have to quit smoking.

8. Ability to Exercise - I walk an average of 15 miles a week. I'd like to start running a portion of that 15 miles. What I've found when I try to run is that, although my legs would love to do it, my lungs stop me from getting farther than a 1/4th of a mile at a time.

9. Breaking an Addiction - I wouldn't say that I'm a control freak, but I've found a certain uneasiness with the idea that I have no control over this aspect of my life. The cravings prompt my actions, rather than conscious thought. I won't be the first person to break an addiction. Others have broken far worse addictions to far more addictive substances.
Quitting is like a challenge to myself. Acting as a strange proof of mind over body. Do I have a strong mind? I'll prove it to myself, by quitting.

10. Time - One pack a day. Twenty cigarettes. Five minutes minimum to smoke a cigarette. You do the math.
OK. I'll do the math for you. That's a minimum of 1 hour, 40 minutes spent doing something that for all the previous mentioned reasons, I know I really shouldn't do. Think of all that wasted time I've spent over the years.

I could do a lot with nearly two hours a day.
In two hours, I could write 4 extremely long blog posts about quitting smoking.
In two hours, I could walk 6 miles at a leisurely pace.
In two hours, I could improve my efficiency at work, by well, working instead of taking a smoke break.
In two hours, I could cook, from scratch, elaborate meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
In two hours, I could draw a self portrait. (Note that I didn't say it'd be a good self portrait.)
In two hours, I could watch one show on how to cook a "Big Flavor Brunch" on food network, one show on "Walking on Water" from Mythbusters, and an old 1987 episode of "Tales from the Darkside" starring Jerry Orbach.

In two hours, I could...

Help me out here?

Totally improper post...

2007-06-02T15:38:00.000-05:00

So I haven't even introduced myself properly yet, I haven't posted since I created this blog a week ago, and here I am having a bit of a spew....

Here goes... (hold on)

Have you ever gotten one of THOSE phone calls? The ones that you absolutely dread because they are the type that changes someones life, whether it be yours, a family member, or a friend. Well, I got one of THOSE phone calls a bit eariler.

I don't even know what it is yet. I really don't. I just know that a close friend phoned me up, asked me if I was working (which I suppose technically I should be at this very moment), and then asked if I could do her a favor - "Could you get me drunk?"

Whoa. Hold on a sec...

Then I made the cardinal mistake. I said those words you aren't supposed to ask when you already know the answer - "Is everything OK?"

I knew it was a mistake before the words even finished crossing my lips. As her voice started to crack with tears on the other line, it dawned on me that I was most definitely getting drunk this evening.

Now, I'm not sure that the gravity of this situation is being properly perceived, so let me just mention the following little notes.

I don't recreational drink often. I can take or leave the stuff just fine.

I do occasionally have a drunk with friends for a bit of fun. Prerequisite for said fun is the guarantee that I have a couch to sleep on when the fun is over. Terribly responsible, I am.

I have a variety of friends. This particular friend is one of those tough-as-nails, didn't cry at the end of Schindler's List but was ready to discuss it, moderate outlook on life, sort of friend. She's not given to hysterics.

With that said. I do so hope that I am over-reacting. I hope those were allergy sniffles I heard over the phone. (Yeah, right. Allergies.)

I'm really going to regret this tomorrow morning, but at the same time, what are friends for?

Update: Yeah. It really was THAT bad. I'm not sure how much good I did for her. I think she was all cried out by the time she made it to my house. I just let her tell me what she needed to and this time I knew enough to avoid the questions. Ever feel helpless?