Guest Blog by Tim, with Special Guest Star Jeff Goldblum

Sometimes I don't fully appreciate how weird and wonderful my friends are, both online and IRL. They find humor and joy in the strangest of places and encounters, and that's what makes life so incredibly interesting. I was given a reminder of this late Saturday night, as my Twitter buddy/former fellow J-towner Tim sent me a Facebook message:

DUDE.
I just had an epic duel with a fly.

What followed was a story so hilariously harrowing that I had to share it with the world. Tim wrote it up for me in very short order. I must note that we discussed the tiny bit of, um, slightly "coarse language" at the very end of this, the type not normally found on this blog, and after some discussion decided it really completes the story. So I apologize if anyone's sensibilities are offended, but hey, the story's SO worth it.

And so without further ado, I present Goldblum's End by Tim Snyder.

_____________________________

Let me preface this account with a bit of an admission. I'm no “Star Wars Lightsaber Master” or “Lord of the Rings Duel Fanatic,” but I was hella' pumped over what transpired in the mirror area in my apartment's bedroom. In fact, the limits of my “swordsmanship” understanding extend as far as fighting with foam swords for two years (a fine hobby if you get rid of all that roleplaying fluff).

It's about eleven thirty at night on November 7. I'm sitting at my computer, enjoying the Internets' splendor. I suddenly hear the cacophonous hum of an insect's wings nearby. I grab the only swingable thing near me, a huge pad of newsprint paper, and go to the source of the sound. I spot the creature instantly: as I thought, a bug. I kept my distance, as it was unclear just yet if the little guy was a hornet or just a giant fly.

As luck would have it, I stood face to thorax with a giant fly.

It was perched on the mirror until I rose my pad to smash it against its platform. Once airborne, I could tell that my unwieldy art supplies would do nothing to this winged little bugger. I decided on a tactical retreat once I figured that nothing in my room was up to snuff for the task of fly-slaying.

I approached my roommate and his friend, then, who were playing a guitar and a bass.

“Hey, do you guys have like a flyswatter or something? There's this giant fly on the mirror.”

My roommate laughed.

“Oh,” he said after a brief coughing session, “you mean Jeff Goldblum.”

Jeff Goldblum. Har har.

He handed me a newspaper and wished me good tidings in the battle ahead, not in the traditional ways of wishing my safe return and whatnot.

Oh heavens no. He just said, “go kill it.”

My roommate and his friend returned to their music, providing me with a little psych-up. Rolled-up newspaper in hand, I took up position before the mirror, and nudged the door shut. I realized that what I was going to do would look hardcore against an opponent not a fraction of my size, but just ridiculous against something as tiny as a fly.

Feet T'd off like a fencer, knees bent, offhand up to slap the fly, newspaper up and wrist making small circles, I remembered what it was like to hit someone with something, and the whole kids-beating-each-other-with-foam-swords thing came back to me like riding a bike. Or maybe a triceratops.

The battle began. Buzzing wings and whining guitar strings blended together, the percussive snaps of my weapon meeting solid surface throwing snare hits that punctuated every subtle motion with a big, bold exclamation point. Alas, for each hit, a miss was all that waited beneath.

That's not to say I didn't absolutely nail the thing a few times, though. Goldblum took his blows like a champ, and came back for a few more. After three, though, he started feeling the wrath.

“Did you kill it,” my roommate yelled into the room.

“I got it limping!”

I heard him mutter from the living room, “... How does a fly limp?”

“It's an expression,” I yelled after yet another angry slap at the mirror.

Each impact put more and more of that animalistic sheen into my eyes. It took maybe five more swings to bring it down flat on the medicine cabinet's top. I went for the terminal blow, but missed. Instead, the fly, perhaps in a diversionary tactic, spun in circles on its back. I went to the living room and herded in my roommate and his friend to introduce them to my fly little fly.

I hit at it again. This time, however, he didn't dance; instead, Goldblum made for his great escape. My roommate's friend took the newspaper and smashed the grounded fly, hopes likely as trashed as its squirming body was. It bounced off the ground, to the center of the three of us. I gave it the final blow, a vicious curbstomping that would make anyone cringe.

I kept stomping on it, maybe for effect, maybe because I really didn't think that'd kill it. It took my roommate saying, “It's dead dude, it's dead,” to stop and lift my foot to view the corpse beneath me.

“Aw, Tim. Now you got raisin juice on your foot.”

Later that night, my roommate played Taps for the fly. I wasn't present.

Goldblum was a dick, anyways.

A Thundery Weekend

Since we had a glut of writing stuff last week, today's post will be pictures and fun. I like to keep you on your toes, after all.

This weekend in my lovely town was Thunder in the Valley, when Johnstown welcomes all the bikers it can handle. In honor of the event, I swallow my terror, don some leather (my mom's leather jacket from 1979, in this case), and hop on the back of The Husband's bike. I did it twice this year...here's a picture from after my first triumphant trip:


Yeah. That's right. How hot are we? Don't worry, we wear helmets at all times. This was in the backyard, upon our return from an event Thursday evening.

I have to admit, I'm starting to like the bike. Once I get past my fear, there are two kind of awesome parts of it:

A.) The adrenaline. There's quite a rush speeding down the road in the open air, once you forget the whole I-could-die-at-any-moment thing.

B.) What I think of as "the secret club". Ever see two bikers pass each other on the road? A lot of riders will hold out a hand--sometimes in a normal wave, but most downward and at an angle--as they pass a fellow biker. Just sayin' hi, but it's pretty cool, and I love it.



Then, on Friday, we went up to the Cityview Bar & Grille at the top of the Inclined Plane (World's Steepest Vehicular Inclined Plane, yanno) with a bunch of friends. One person decided to dress up, and then the idea spread to the rest of us. I think we clean up pretty nice, eh?

The Husband and Me, looking very much NOT biker-ish.

My Girls--Ashlee and Amber.

The whole gang.

Then we rode the Incline down to J-town for some Thunder fun. It was pure chaos down there--I've never seen Johnstown like that. Lots of people, lots of music, lots of food, lots of booze. Good times!

Ashlee & I on the Incline (that's right, I had a costume change. What, you think I'd walk around downtown in four inch heels?).

Now that's talent.

The city, from above.

On the way back up, bikers waiting for the next trip up the hill.

I'm well aware you can't tell what this is. It's Johnstown from the Incline, blurry and squiggly. I think it's kinda artistic.

The next day, TH and I went back downtown for more Thunder. We just can't get enough. He didn't win the motorcycle he wanted to win--or the diamonds I wanted him to win--but we still had fun. And he took pictures of me from bad angles, as seen below:

After wandering around the city, looking at lots of leather and having some good, thoroughly unhealthy food, we found the Motorcycle Acrobats. These women were pretty amazing. I don't think these pics need any captions.

And here's a video of their last stunt, three full revolutions.

Some fun dirtbike stunts, too. Yes, that's a guy laying on a ground while the stunt guy does hops all around him. You couldn't pay me enough money.

Motorcycles, motorcycles, and more motorcycles--and the Incline doing a trip in the background.

Some folks taking off for a ride. Not an unusual sight this weekend.

One of the many, many streets lined with bikes on both sides. Pretty much every street in the area, in fact, was filled with bikes, in addition to several parking lots. It's pretty impressive, I have to say.

And finally, there's me, my beer, and my cheesy fries.

There were many other great moments I couldn't capture, because our camera batteries died shortly after this. Like, for instance, the impromptu beer-bottle-stacking contest in this tent, the culmination of which was a tower taller than I am, stacked on a table and reaching to the tent's ceiling. A true engineering marvel.

Also, the fun ride home, just after we noticed yet another black storm cloud heading in. Pretty much the whole ride was...well, wet. And windy. And I made it, without freaking out. Without even putting my visor down*, even, because I figured if I could make it all the way home without giving in, I'd be badass. Yeah. I'm badass.

And of course, after we dried off and warmed back up, we drove (in the car this time) up to see TH's friend and watch some George Carlin...and arrived just in time for the Thunder fireworks going on nearby. We had prime spots to watch them, a nice, unexpected treat.

So it was a great weekend, if a very, very busy and tiring one. I'm gonna go relax some now...before I go write. I'm tired, but I still have work to do. As always.

And how was your weekend?



*Don't worry, I had sunglasses on under my helmet, for eye protection. Otherwise, the visor would've been down. I'm a safety freak, even when what I'm doing isn't particularly safe.

Last Weekend in Virginia (...maybe): Part II

So here are the shots from the Virginia Living Museum, which has living exhibits showing each of the state's geographic regions and some of the state's unique features. From the website:

Each exhibit tells a story. There is the predator-prey relationship between the chipmunk and the corn snake; the survival adaptations of the flounder and puffer fish; the endangered status of the once plentiful sturgeon, and the geological changes that have created caves.

It's a truly fascinating place, and I'd advise you to pay a visit if you're ever in the area.

Our pictures weren't as great as I'd hoped...but you can still get an idea of what we saw.

Look closely--that's a catfish down there. I think he was albino, because all of his buddies were darker.

Some quirk of reflection created this picture, which almost looks like it was taken from behind the turtle, but I like it.


How cute is this red fox?








This one's my favorite--the bobcat. I didn't get to see him last time I went to the museum. Hard to believe something to adorable could be a vicious killer, but these bad boys can kill deer.


The red wolves. A litter was born last spring, and three of the four on exhibit were from that litter. I wish I could've seen them as pups--so cute!

It was a pretty fun day, and the museum is incredibly educational. I'm always slightly uncomfortable at the idea of keeping these once-wild or supposed-to-be-wild animals in captivity, but this is truly better than a zoo or anything like that. You can tell, however, that they're very used to humans--they barely even look at the people walking nearby, and many of them sleep right through loud children running at full tilt down the wooden walkway through the exhibits.

At the same time, though, I understand the necessity for something like this, and the good it does: people need to understand the effect we have on the earth. Seeing so many creatures that have been brought back from the brink of extinction,* and better understanding our relationship with the planet, might just help.


*Of course, after the question I overheard while looking at the red wolves, one of the most endangered animals in the world, I've once again lost all faith in humanity. A girl who couldn't have been younger than fifteen years old (and had no apparent disabilities) said to her friends:

"Oh my God! These wolves are almost extinct! There are four of them here, and they're almost extinct! Hey guys...how does an animal become extinct?"

These days, the average fourth-grader must at least have a simplistic answer to that question, right? Her question was only excusable if she had some kind of cognitive impairment or learning disability, or had been raised in a giant bubble with no human contact and was enjoying her first day out. From all I could tell, none of those was the case.

Angels at the Beach

This is what happens when I take a day off and go to the beach:






(Note: there is no sound to this video, as it was taken with my plain ol' digital camera. And that's unfortunate, because the sound was half the coolness. Oh, and sorry for the shaky-cam effect--I'm not the best videographer. Just focus on the two dots that appear over the ocean at about six seconds in, in the center of the frame. After that, you'll see what you're supposed to see.)

Pretty cool, huh? It's the Blue Angels, in case you can't see the colors and markings of the planes. They have an air show in VA Beach on Saturday, so I guess they were running drills. In the process, they were flying right over our heads. Repeatedly. And I swear, while I was in the water, one of them did a nose-over-tail flip after he came out of the curve. Maybe it was just the different perspective, I don't know, but it was still awesome.

Here are some stills:



Pretty cool, huh?

Now I have to get some work done. Neptune commands it.

Go forth and write, or I'll poke you with my trident.