In The Business of Getting PWNED!!

Stooped at a table, in silence I've toiled

Adding 'like factors' and practicing FOIL.

Robbed of my slumber, questions still burning,

I tossed and I turned, the cogs always turning.

"With TIME and HARD WORK you can master this test."

Such positive thinking helped summon my best.

For months I prepared and finally felt strong.

My answers hard-earned very rarely were wrong.

I zigged when you zigged, zagged when you zagged.

Of success I was sure, my win 'in the bag.'

If X equals Y, and seven is three,

How many monkeys can live in a tree?

If apples are oranges, and both fruits are pears,

Then why is it round if the pi are squared?

What is the ratio of knickknacks to widgets,

And what's the percentage of three-headed midgets?

I know it! I know it!  The answer is three,

If X equals pears and the knickknacks are free!

But if you add seven to a factor of Y,

Then midgets hate apples and eat all the pi.

YES! I felt good.  I could conquer the world.

Of course I'd do well when the test was unfurled.

And you played the puppy, your submissiveness fake,

Sitting and rolling and learning to shake.

I thought I had tamed you, trained you to lay,

So I sat down to pet you at the end of the way.

I reached out my hand and heard a deep growl.

Your teeth were well-honed, your breath was most foul.

Now staring, shell-shocked, into your maw,

I was three-quarters there, no time to withdraw.

Or was it four-fifths?  Is that a factor of red?

And what's the probability of me wetting the bed?

Probability's good, for no jugular was seized.

You tore through my gray matter with relative ease

Deceptive, bloodthirsty, villainous savage!

My meticulous plans you fiendishly ravaged.

With claws and incisors you ripped at my dreams,

Devouring my hope whilst the carcass still steamed.

Empty, disheartened, brainless, or more,

My plan fades to black.  The horror.  The horror.

I Just Blue Myself

So this post is jumping the line a little bit. I have other stories to tell, but no time to tell them right now. Sorry. This little dispatch doesn't require much explanation, so I thought I'd put it up now. Plus, I've actually had a number of requests for these pics, despite the fact that they may come back to haunt me at some future point. Never let it be said that The Humungus doesn't listen.

So without further ado, I give you Tobias Funke, analrapist.

And in case you had your doubts about my committment to the character, nevernude shorts were in play. It's a good thing I'm such a fan of nakedness. Otherwise this would have been awkward. And for those who are unfamiliar with Arrested Development, the unpainted ring around the waist was intentional.

This costume was actually, by my standards, a late breaking idea. Normally, I'm planning my costumes around March so I have time to track down and assemble all of the items, and also so I can string out the costs over the course of months. I had been planning a full-on luchadore getup this year, but costs started getting prohibitive when I started adding in the boots and tassled wrist greaves. I had bought these shorts for a race I ran in September, but didn't end up wearing them to race. I did try them on at home, though, and when my roommate saw them, he asked if I was being Tobias for Halloween. In a matter of 0.7 seconds, my answer went from "Gee, I'd never thought of that," to "Yes. Yes I am."

Despite the warm reception it received at the party, I'm afraid this will not be a repeat costume. In terms of effort-to-payoff ratio, it was too low. Painting the entire body is messy, time consuming, and uncomfortable. I spent the whole night trying not to touch walls and people. I couldn't get no hugs from all the pretty ladies. Riding in the car was a mess, and cleaning the body paint off at the end of the night took forever. What can I say? Lesson learned, I guess.

From the Redwood Forests to the New York Island

Washington, DC is a fascinating place. It occupies a special niche in terms of tourism. There aren't A LOT of other American cities that can be thought of as tourist destinations simply for being a city. Just ask Baltimore. New York can. Boston. Chicago. Maybe San Francisco if you're gay. Some will read that list and think, "Really? Because I wouldn't spend my tourism dollars there. I'd rather lay on a beach/go skiing/go on a cruise/explore ancient ruins, rather than ride the subway and stare at buildings." My point exactly. Those cities don't hold any interest for large swaths of the population. But DC? DC is the embodiment of our great American tale, a monument to the greatness of our heritage. It is our secular Mecca. At some time in their lives, most Americans will make at least one trip to DC.

But living here the last few years in the shadow of so much history, both past and present, for me it's just life. I forget how exciting it is for some people to visit DC when I'm shopping for groceries or jogging past Arlington Cemetery or sitting in traffic on Route 1 on the way home from work. I drive through the National Mall where all the monuments and museums are housed regularly. But I'm on my way to some other destination, not gawking at monuments. So it's kinda nice when I have guests visit from out of town and get to be a tour guide for all the sites. This April, my mother and sister came for a visit, and I got to be a tourist for one fine weekend at the tail end of cherry blossom season.

DC tourist attractions are different for me than you might think. I already have pictures of all the monuments and have visited most of the museums, so I'm on the lookout for moving exhibits of awesome wonder: tourists. I'm fascinated by other tourists visiting from all over the country, all over the world for that matter. Because DC is such a universal attraction, I get a pretty good cultural sampling from around the U.S., and often I'm mesmerized by what I see. The thought that we come from the same country sometimes confounds me. I marvel at how different we are in our sameness. Take this young pilgrim, for example (I highly recommend clicking to enlarge all of these pictures to get a more detailed look):

Now, my mom wanted in on this pose because she, too, is a huge Guns N' Roses fan, same as Sasquatch there. But the contrast in how they express their devotion couldn't be painted with brighter imagery. He's more "Welcome to the Jungle," while mom is more "Sweet Child of Mine." Yet they share a national heritage. Same as this next darling:

I understand being a tourist. You are away from your hotel all day and it's important to find an option for carrying all the things you may need during the day, like your camera and smokes. And it is imperative that you are comfortable. However, my answer would probably be a backpack. Or a messenger bag. Or a purse, if I'm a woman. Or put them in my pockets. Many options here. I'm always amazed at how common fanny packs are on tourists. No matter how good you think you look sucking down a Camel, no amount of sex appeal gained can overcome wearing a fanny pack. Speaking of outfits that should have been spouse-checked before leaving the house, Tiff just had to get a picture with this Man's Man at the Gettysburg battlefield:

True, this was taken in Pennsylvania, but it fits the theme of cultural tourism. This guy was a mountain of a man with a shock of red hair on his head AND on his shoulders, a red-headed Shrek in the flesh. He's wearing a CSI shirt, but if he has any detective skills at all, his Crime Scene Investigation will lead him straight to a mirror. And finally, get a load of these yokels tromping around the White House lawn:

The doofus on the left is probably thinking to himself, "How do they load that house on a truck when they gots'ta move? Probably got a real nice crapper, though." This was taken right before I discovered the Secret Service's distinct lack of sense of humor. I mean, come on, streaking the portico outside the Oval Office is empirically funny. No question. Maybe if I'd worn my breakaway pants, I could have escaped. Next time.

Anyway, mom and Tiff, I luvz you ladies. Thanks for coming to see me.