Category Archives: Fun

Sadly, Uniteds / Tatesofamerica didn’t qualify

The other day, I was watching the United States’ beach volleyball tandem of Phil Dalhausser and Todd Rogers dismantle yet another hapless opponent.  The victim happened to be a team from the country of Georgia, formerly a division of USSR, Inc. and currently in a whammy-kablammy conflict with Russia.  (Insert your own “no, not THAT Georgia” joke here.)  It wasn’t much of a match, as Dalhausser is approximately twelve feet tall and uses his eight-mile wingspan to block the pathetic spike attempts of mere mortals, but it was notable for two reasons: first, the victory put the United States into the gold medal game, where they defeated Brazil to win the whole kit and caboodle (and give the U.S. the beach sweep, as the U.S. women won gold a day earlier); second, the names of the pair from Georgia … well, take a look for yourself.

Park it real good, vol. 2

Biker Mike and I helped Artist Ashley and Mathematical Laura move over the weekend, and during an intermediate stop at Arborland Mall, we watched someone park in a Blue Wheelchair Man Group parking spot.  He had the necessary permit, but … well, I’m not sure about his parking skills.

Self-flagellation at its finest

Last weekend, I traveled up north* with Mathematical Laura, Troubadour Jenny, Road Trip Andrew and Biker Mike.  Laura’s family has a cabin on Hubbard Lake — located somewhere between nowhere and the end of the earth, a location some progressive cartographers call “the Alpena area” — and they graciously allowed us to invade Barkley North for the weekend.

*(For those of you unfamiliar with Michigan, “up north” means “wait, where did all the people go, and who put all these trees and lakes here?”  For many of us Michiganders from the population-dense southeast, up north is a pleasant escape; for other Michiganders who enjoy stress, traffic and endless seas of cookie-cutter home developments and obnoxious chain drug stores, up north is a strange foreign place filled with … well, nothing.  Which is to say it’s filled with lots of things that used to exist in southeastern Michigan before someone decided that pavement and strip malls were way better than icky dirty things like trees and grass and open space.)

Like many such lakes, Hubbard Lake features copious amounts of water, which makes it ideal for fast water-based activities like water skiing, tubing and motion sickness.  And, like many such cabins, Barkley North features a boat that allows its occupants to enjoy those activities (except for motion sickness, which is difficult to enjoy).  I don’t often get the chance to photograph things like water skiing and tubing, so this presented an opportunity for me to have some fun with my camera.

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Out of the mouths of babes

While in South Bend on Sunday, my nephew Malachi asked me how old I am.  When I told him my age, my three-year-old niece Marina joined the conversation:

Marina: You’re 26?
Me: Yes, I’m 26.
Marina: You’re a big man!

Park it real good

As a permit-carrying member of the Blue Wheelchair Man Group (BWMG) — I get to park in handicapped parking spots — I have an interest in the parking efforts of other members of that group.  There are times those efforts aren’t exactly stellar; recently, I came across two such efforts.  (License plates have been removed to protect the careless.)

The first was during the Future Bulldog Camp.  Since the target group of the camp can’t drive, the stadium parking lot was only sparsely populated during the sessions, which meant one particular parking job was hard to miss:

I neglected to check the rear-view mirror for a permit, so I don’t know if that was done by a member of the BWMG.  If that was an able-bodied person’s parking job … well, come on.  If you’re going to park illegally, put some effort into it.  (At least stay off the sidewalk!)

If that wasn’t enough, just the other day, I went to Showcase Cinema to see Wall-E (by the way: GO SEE IT NOW!), and in the parking spot next to mine, I saw this:

The van did have the necessary license plate to park in a handicapped parking spot, but I’m not sure that counts as being “in a handicapped parking spot”; I think it’s more “in the general area of a handicapped parking spot.”  What made it more amusing was the “How’s my driving?” bumper sticker below the license plate.

If I see more of these sorts of parking jobs in the BWMG spots, I’ll continue to post them; if you see any, feel free to send a picture to me.  I’m always up for a good laugh.

Welcome to the Hotel Gasifornia

Last week, I was on my way home from Ann Arbor when I stopped at a gas station just off the highway to fill up my car.  As the pump was cheerfully listing local bankruptcy attorneys (hey, it could happen), my gaze wandered, and for the first time, I noticed the odd set of signs posted at the entrance.  The side facing the road has an unremarkable sign directing cars to the pumps, but the side facing the pumps … well, I guess you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the comics

A few weeks ago, I stumbled across an online comic strip called What the Duck. It features a photographer who happens to be a duck (or a duck who happens to be a photographer), and the humor centers around the day-to-day adventures of the life of a working photographer. It makes me laugh a lot, mostly because there’s so much truth in the strips; some of the strips — like the one below — might seem a bit ridiculous, but believe me: they’re all based in reality. What the Duck is a hilariously accurate portrayal of the life of a photographer.

Three yards and a cloud of aliens

I was browsing through the referral URLs in my site statistics the other day when something caught my eye. I can pick out the spam links most of the time, but there was one page — just referencing an image on my site rather than directing real traffic to any page of mine — that I thought might be real. I clicked the link, and though the site proved to be spam for a media player, its seemingly random use of one particular image proved to be highly amusing.

Yes indeed, the fourth picture in that eclectic group of “brief encounter pictures” is a picture of legendary Michigan football coach Bo Schembechler signing my helmet, a picture I linked in my meager eulogy for Bo. And if you read that post, you may notice the reason the spambot grabbed that image: shortly before and shortly after the link to that picture, I describe the occasion as a brief encounter. So really, the strange part of this wasn’t the selection of the image, but instead was the ultimate use of the image.

What’s the lesson in all this? I have no idea. But since I’m usually annoyed by spam, it was nice to be amused by it for once.