Brilliant money making ideas

So, everyone needs money, and I am a person, so by the transitive property, money needs me?  I need everyone?  I was never really sure on the transitive property.

Anyway, here are a few brilliant ideas I plan on exploiting sometime in my life somehow to make money.

1. I am fairly adept at making noises.  Tapping, tsk-ing, knocking on things, using random phallic objects as drumsticks.  I will even sing a song to myself as I'm chewing so as to keep up some king of internal rhythm.  This MUST be worth something to someone
2. I can make, like, 10 different kinds of paper airplanes.  I'm thinking of having a paper airplane sale.  I'll color them with crayons.  and tear out little ailerons so the paper men can steer the aircraft.
3. Once upon a time, I was very good at hacky-sack.  I think somewhere in the back of my mind that translated either to a soccer career or a gig as a ninja.
4. I like playing with boys from the ages of 2 to 12.  Legos, and army men, and helicopter sound generators, and war, and capture the flag.  I could go on for hours with sweet games.  Maybe i could start a daycare for just little boys.  Or would people see that as creepy?
5. Discussing sciency stuff.  You know, Astronomy, chemistry, physics, and the like.  If you're at a party surrounded by geeks, you could call me, and i'll show up, and talk to them for you.  Maybe I'd get their number and hang out with them on the weekends for you.  Maybe we could all go to the science museum without you.  Watch some Bill Nye.  Who knows?  you're just not invited.  But I'll expect a check.
6. Blabbering excitedly about absolutely nothing.  I'm not sure how this will make me money, but I'm good at it, and with a little bit of creativity...! (crosses fingers hopefully)

Ok that's all I can think of.

Note: this was written just as I was about to leave on Friday, and I was rather coffee'd up and excited to go home and be awesome with my wife and son all weekend.  So don't take it the wrong way if I don't seem "Monday" enough for you.  WOO HOO

Russian Verbs in America

FYI - This post will mostly appeal to speakers of Russian, and those interested in the assimilation of cultures.  Everyone else might find this more interesting and appropriate for their tastes

Russians are language lazy.  I'm not sure if it's a product of trying to assimilate, or just the opposite, but they tend to melange their yazik all ensemble. Oh, I'm sorry, I must have dozed off while mixing my languages together.

But you would too!  Imagine, you're an American in France, eating a baguette, smoking a long cigarette out of one of those Cruella DeVille cigarette holders while deriding some foreigner for wearing a religious headdress.  You've almost entirely assimilated.  Yet, when you speak, you inject a little English, just for good measure, "Je n'ai pas du croissant, mais si vous voulez, vous pouvez breakfaster chez moi." (I knew I majored in French for something - education well used).

Then the French organize an impromptu flash mob and force you to eat like, 1000 frog legs.  You're still hungry afterward, cause, seriously...all you had was frog legs, and let's face it: there ain't much meat on them bones.

So getting back to the Russians.  While I might not speak, I understand about 90% of what's going on around me.  And having my Russian language background be almost entirely built upon a dude who has read more than Oprah, and who speaks impeccable Russian, I cringe just a little bit when I hear the local people use words like, "move-itsya" and "shop-itsya"; English words with Russian endings, a linguist's nightmare.






Ok, well, I've been staring at this page now for 10 minutes thinking of how to end this post.  But I can't figure out a good ending.  So here's Tom Cruise with no pants on.

The Russian Grocery store

When normal people, meaning anyone not from Northeast Philadelphia, go into a grocery store, they normally expect nothing from the store except fresh veggies and a wide selection of breakfast cereals.

Not so for the Russian-American population.

The first time I went to the Russian grocery store, I was dressed like most normal people would dress to go to a grocery store: tee-shirt and jeans.  How naive I was, to think that would be appropriate in the frozen foods aisle!  My wife ridiculed me, saying she was going to be embarrassed to be with me, but I stood resolute - why would anyone wear anything else?  It's a grocery store!

Then...I realized what she meant.  The store is not a place to get fresh fruits.  It is a place for the women of Northeast Philadelphia to judge. It is like American Idol (but for un-Americans) and EVERYONE is Simon Cowell.

Natasha just picked up her deli meat from the kolbasa counter

 Both men and women are dressed as if they were going to a club - sexy, sharp outfits that make them look 50x hotter than they really are.  Women have more makeup on than clothes, and they're all wearing six inch heels.  All the guys are wearing designer clothes and button-down shirts with wild prints all over them, and leather shoes.

And the craziest thing is: my wife is among them.  A college educated, career-oriented and brilliant woman pursuing her MBA dressing up like, well, you know, so she can impress a bunch of people she only knows in the most remote ways. They're all deathly afraid that each other one will run home and say, "You see? I saw Katya Borisovna not wearing heels while ordering her dried cod's head!  That must be why she's still unmarried and poor!"  Then they go to pay for their groceries with food stamps (a subject for another time).

And rightly so, because they will.  My wife has said to me a couple of times that her mother has heard stories from her friends about how they can't believe a nice pretty young Russian Jewish girl like my wife can be stuck with such a dirty slob like myself.  

All because I wear jeans to the grocery store.

Now-a-days, my reputation is out, so I'm trying to cultivate it.  I'm now wearing a wife-beater, sweatpants and sandals.  I also refuse to shave more often than once a week, and I shower just as frequently.  

That'll teach'em.

Children's Interests

My wife is going out with one of her girlfriends for a walk with the kids today.  Her friend has a 3 year old that is obsessed with dinosaurs.  And apparently, everyone's amazed by this.  This is big time news that a 3 year old would be into dinosaurs.

When I was growing up, from the age of three to about 13 or so, I was absolutely obsessed with dinosaurs, So when this little boy discusses the eating habits of an Ankylosaurous vs. that of a Deinonychus, people are oo-ing and awe-ing over how he could possibly know these things.  And I'm sitting there like, "psh, I bet he doesn't even know about the evidence against pack hunting found in a recent Yale University study."  Stupid three year old.

Right around the age of 6, my family moved to San Diego, right in the path of the airport landing area.  There was also a crazy amount of military aircraft constantly circling the air, and doing super sweet touch and go's.  So naturally, my crazy love for dinosaurs then EVOLVED into an obsession for airplanes.  (pats self on back).

For example, my second grade teacher, Mrs. Holland, was such a great teacher that I wanted to thank her after such a good year.  We got caterpillars and grew them into butterflies, people - it was an amazing year.  So what did I do?  I drew a sweet picture of a squadron of ME 109's attacking a village.  She was deeply moved, I could tell.

On a tangent, did you know that the A-10 Thunderbolt II is so sturdy that it can actually lose a piece of its wing and still operate effectively?  The 30mm Avenger cannon on the front of it has earned it the creative name, "Tank Buster".

One word: Bu-GOW!

So I guess the point of the story is that when MY little one gets a little older, I can only HOPE that he's interested in awesome boy things.  The following is a list of pre-approved things that are awesome:

• Rocket Ships
• Space
• Insects
• Forts and their corresponding structural integrity
• History is OK as long as it's military history
• Ninjas
• Race Cars
• Tanks

I have a nephew who is a great kid, and I love him dearly, but he's into Pokemon.  There's not much cool that Pokemon has going for it.  And this off the heels of a deep Elmo obsession.  If I can help it, this will not be the path of my own boy.

Not that there's anything wrong with Pokemon and Elmo, but...just sayin'

Charles Dickens - an explanation

Not too long ago, I briefly mentioned my hatred for Charles Dickens.  I feel like I need to explain. 

I have been told many, many, many times about how influential and monumental he was.  But you know what?  He published in serials.  You know who else "published in serials"?  John Wayne Gacy.  That's who.

Let me start my unsolicited complaining session with a block quote from one of Mr. Dick-ens' most famous and well-regarded novels.  Mind you, this is also one my wife consistently pushes for me to read.  Oliver Twist.  This was pulled from Project Gutenberg, the greatest and most worthy endeavor known to man.

Chapter I

Treats of the Place Where Oliver Twist Was Born and of the Circumstances Attending His Birth

Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; the item of morality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter.

Take that in.  You'll likely need about three or four times to read the entire passage through.

Notice also how it is ONLY ONE SENTENCE.  Wtf, Chuck?  You have every possible punctuation mark in there: the comma, the semi-colon, and, most likely your favorite, the *wink-wink* "colon" (let the pun seep in a sec).  Also notice how he doesn't say ANYTHING.  If I'm reading this in the 1830's - 1840's, I'm pissed off, cause you've just wasted 90% of my free time with your blabbering, and now I have to go work in the coal mines for a day and a half.  Sorry kids - can't kiss you good bye, you can thank Mr. Charles Dickens over there for stealing away your father's free time.

I've always been told in my writing, English, literature classes that the very first paragraph of your novel is supposed to be designed to get your reader hooked.  But after reading this, I'm already looking and saying...What?? how many pages are left?  Then I'm doing a double take at just how bloody long this bloody novel is.  Then I'm wondering if mass book burning would be OK if it were author-selective.

I will now rephrase it in real-person words.

Chapter One:

Where and How Oliver Twist Was Born

Common to every city, there was a workhouse.  And in one nondescript workhouse in one nondescript city, the eponymous character referenced by the title of this chapter was born.

BADA-BOOM.  Simple - straightforward, and you only have to read it once.  You even get the repetitive effect in the second sentence that metaphorically drives home how common the beginnings of Oliver Twist were. Not the most interesting of ways to lead into a novel, but that might just be the point.  Ok, I get that "the Chas-Dick" was paid by word, so there was incentive to blabber, but, I mean...come ON.  He sounds like a long-winded John Kerry. Or a hyperactive and under-confident valley girl telling you all the details they're NOT going to tell you about.  

Ok, so there's this guy, right? He's with this girl, but I can't tell you which girl he's with - not that it matters, because the story's not really about the girl, it's about the guy, and what the guy did with the girl.  Ok, so it's a little about the girl, but not enough that I have to tell you a lot about who she is or anythi...

I think you get the idea.

So, at risk of sounding like Charles Dickens, I think this post is long enough.

"I have one guy"

I know stereotypes are inappropriate, but my father in law is a mafia boss.

The first piece of evidence is that he looks like one.

Secondly, he almost never talks.  He says that men who talk too much are like women.  I'm not sure how he'd feel about this blog then.  I've gone to dinners with him where he won't speak all night.  Then the women will go to the bathroom, and it'll just be the two of us.  Thank god for internet on phones to divert the awkwardness.

But probably the most convincing reason I think my father in law is a mafia boss is this:  Recently, we were going through the house discussing all the different projects that need to be done - fix this lamp, stop the leaky sink, remove this, you know, blah, blah, blah.  If there was something that was too complicated for the two of us to get it done, he'd say, "I have one guy - get this done.  Very quick, very cheap." And he says it very off-the-cuff, like he says it all the time.  But his hand motion is what bothers me about it.  He makes a movement as if he's chopping someone's fingers off.  Again, very off-the-cuff, like he does it all the time.

Imagine now if we were not talking about the bathroom door, but about ordering a hit on someone.

"I have one guy - get this done.  Very quick, very cheap".

Sends shivers down my spine.

Tonight, for example, he is coming over to our place to speak with a contractor about getting some work done.  We have a couple of old, crappy sheds in the backyard that wild and crazy animals are now starting to populate rapidly.  So, we need a guy to come in and tear them down and remove the debris.  We got a quote last week from a guy that was just under $1000.

When we told the new guy that my father in law would be speaking with him, he said, "oh, then it won't be more than $250."

Fine and dandy - I could see contractor's quotes varying that much.  Sometimes, they try and gouge you.  But things get weird when you take into consideration my father in law has a "deal" with one of the local auto-mechanics.  I pay $10 cash for a full service oil change, and most low level maintenance is free.  I only pay for parts.

Honestly, I'm a little creeped out by it.  But my wallet's not.

Singing to Sammy

Sammy is beginning to learn that he LOVES listening to music.  He loves it when either my wife or I sing to him.  It's almost like an instantaneous calming effect that somehow brings him out of whatever funky mood he's in and gets him back to being a smiling little Schmoogle.

But there's a problem - I tend to blank out on song choices.  It's like three or four song Karaoke.  Luckily, Sammy doesn't mind.  He's totally into them, and why not?  They're awesome songs.  Just...it's a strange choice.

I know there should be some education somewhere in the songs for little kids, mixed with classical music.  So, these are the only four songs I can readily sing at a moment's notice.

1.  Bunny of Seville

Great song and great music. Plus, I have a little Wayne's World crush on Bugs Bunny when he's singing the "I'm your little senorita" part of the song.

2.  The nations of the World by Yakko Warner

Ok, I know it's a little out of date map-wise (there's still Czechoslovakia), but how can you not love a song that rhymes San Juan with Guam?  Canada with Panama? 

3.  Three is the Magic Number (blind melon version)

This video takes a couple seconds to get going, but who doesn't love schoolhouse rock?  and Blind Melon singing a Schoolhouse Rock song?  priceless. 

4.  Inchworm Song

I only ever knew about this song because Robert from "Everybody Loves Raymond" (or as my wife calls it, "I Love Raymond, screw everyone else!") sang it to the kids in the show in one very obscure episode.  But i'm a huge fan. Something about the minor key in a children's song, which is uncommon enough, mixed with the lackadaisical counting and alliteration of "measuring the marigolds".  Possibly one of my favorite children's songs ever.

And that's it.  That's my whole repertoire for age-appropriate songs.  I think while I may have been emotionally ready to have a child, i was nowhere near prepared in a mental sense, what with my lack of books, and now this lack of good music.

My wife, as she has always been, is great with remembering all those great songs from her childhood. There's goluboi vagon, Antoshka, the russian "happy birthday", Tra-ta-ta and about 300 others she can readily start singing.

Similar to asking about appropriate books, is there a kid's CD that is preferred over other ones?  I'm not exactly looking for "twinkle twinkle" or "the itsy bitsy spider", I think they're too...demeaning.  But I'm also not looking for Vivaldi's Four Seasons either.  Suggestions?