Randy Hemingway's Blog

Back up into a cactus. NO! I said don’t do it! Read the title and then the post. It’ll save you much misery and, possibly, surgery. So, a little back-story for those unfamiliar with the origins of the friendly, family cactus, Antonio. I saved Antonio from certain doom when I was doing some grounds-keeping for a family in the town where I was attending college. There he was, un-earthed, shriveled, gasping for breath (as much as a cactus can), and I did the only thing I could think of: get a little plastic pot, fill it with dirt, stick the poor, dying cactus in the dirt, and hope for the best. Lo and behold! A few days later, Antonio started perking up! Wow, I’ve spent way too long re-hashing an old story. Long story short: he’s stuck with us (not literally, until lately, hence this post) through thick and thin, deep and shallow, short and tall, wide and narrow, etc.

All right, all right, I’ll get to the point (no pun intended). The other night, we let Gracie remain in the main living area of the house after we left (rather than penning her up in the entry-way, which has worked until she recently started escaping). So far, she’s handled the responsibility of not performing bodily functions on the carpet. Instead, she’s  usually chosen the corner of the dining room between the table and Antonio as some prime real estate for conducting business. So, the other night we got home after going to see the movie, “Fireproof” (wicked good, two thumbs up, a must-see, blahblahblah), at a friend’s church, and Gracie had made a transaction in her usual place of business, right next to Antonio. Usually, I just lean around the table and clean it up, but this time, I moved the table and started cleaning up the mess with my back to Antonio. All of a sudden, somebody started jamming needles into my right glute like I was Typhoid Mary or something. You’ve never heard a grown man complain so much about getting stuck by a cactus. I tried to get the little buggers out of my pants, but there were a couple that were stuck…in the skin. And, every time I took a step, I got that same needle-sticking sensation all over again. Man, those things hurt!

So, I waddled into the bedroom and extracted the offending stickers. I ended up just throwing the clothes in the wash, because I didn’t want to those pants on some other time, go to sit down at a restaurant or something, and  *BOING!*  That would be bad. Really bad. So, let me leave you with this bit of advice: never, ever back into a cactus, or any other flora sporting long, needle-like features, for that matter. You’ll regret it. Trust me on this one.

We’re watching the Food Network show Ace of Cakes, and I love it! If you’re not familiar with the show, the show is about a cake shop in Baltimore, called Charm City Cakes, run by a guy named Duff and his friends from college. The thing I love about the show is that everyone in the shop has such unique personalities, and the cakes they make are incredible. Edible artwork and awesome personalities, there’s nothing like it. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, if you get the Food Network, you’ve got to check out Ace of Cakes…and Iron Chef. But that’s another post for another day.

Here’s the Food Network page for Ace of Cakes

And here’s the Charm City Cakes website

This one’s from me: “that was truly everyone’s favorite pooping moose.”

There was a wooden moose by the printer that, when you lifted its tail, “dispensed” candy from “under the tail.” Somebody bumped it and it broke. It was truly a scandal and a tragedy. Hence, the tweet above.

Next: a mom to her 5-year-old daughter: “Leta, there is no crying in Old Maid.”

From solidsmack (usually good for a few off-the-wall tweets every day): “coffee is like meat, liquid meat, but not processed meat, pure meat straight off the tree.”

I think I might start posting some of the hilarious tweets that people put on twitter. There’s a couple people on there that are consistently goofy and funny.

I also am thinking about doing some different things here so that I can be a little more consistent in my posting and content. I don’t know. I’m not feeling well. Maybe it’s just my misguided, incoherent brain speaking. I should probably do something productive now. Sorry about this horrendous, pointless post. Send me a bill for the amount of time I just took from your life, stepped on, and threw in the trash. Thanks for reading! *muttering to self* twitter is funny…*insane giggle*

Hey, welcome to the new location of my blog. You are now reading the blog formally known as automatedjourney. I am officially dumping that name, because it did not relate to what I wrote about or … anything, for that matter. So, enjoy reading my blog in its shiny, new location.

Groundhog Day kind of baffles me. I mean, why do we rely on an animal that generally makes a pest of itself to tell us whether or not we’re going to have to endure a longer winter or not? I guess what I’m asking is, who picked the groundhog. Sure, the little guy’s brown and fluffy and hibernates, but why couldn’t the source of seasonal depression be something a little more…I don’t know…friendly? Maybe an animal that doesn’t eat every living thing in your backyard and dig Chunnel-sized holes under your fence. Am I being unreasonable here?
Next question: Why Punxsutawney, PA? I’ll leave it at that.
Next question: Why Phil? Why not Peter?
Next question: Why…okay, okay, I’ll give it up. I know Groundhog Day is one of those traditional days that goes way back to some holiday that has long since been forgotten by the general public. Is it still relevant? Does Punxsutawney Phil ever get it right? The groundhog ruins most days during the summer, should we really give it the chance to ruin our winter, too? Just sayin’.