I've been sending out a great deal of e cards today.
Spinnerites *MARMADUKE*
I was able to attend a sign spinning seminar earlier this week. I learned a great deal about the art form, and left with an even greater appreciation for the Spinnerites (as they prefer to be addressed) and their methods.
meet Optimus Prime Time *MARMADUKE*
Although I was unable to acquire a falcon yesterday, I was able to build my airborne friend Optimus Prime Time. He's a yellow Korbat who greets guests by insulting them from afar.
I would like a Falcon *MARMADUKE*
I'm going to get a falcon. I decided it 42 days ago and I've been doing a lot of research online. Falcons are very large. Technically a falcon's wings are shaped more like a scythe than a sickle. Adult falcons have thin tapered wings, which enable them to fly at high speed and to change direction rapidly. Hunting with trained captive birds of prey is known as falconry. Peregrine Falcons are the fastest-moving creatures on Earth. Other falcons include the Gyrfalcon, Lanner Falcon, and the Merlin. 
I decided to go to an exotic bird store. When I went into the store, they were out of falcons and the woman made a joke about "One of them is in jail, he's a falconvict." I thought
that was rude and in poor taste, and I didn't laugh. In fact I did something that I do when I think something is really unfunny, which is reverse laugh, I suck in air with the same rhythm that laughter exhales it. It's very effective in letting another person know that their joke was in poor taste.
So then I asked if they had any birds like a falcon, 
or a bird that was smaller that I could practice on. Mother says that I should maybe start with a smaller bird that can't rip your face off or peck out your eyes, and I think to a certain extent she has a point. But I think I could handle a falcon. I know a lot about them
now through research.
The bird store lady gave me a cockatoo, and I began by holding it. I was having a really good time with the bird, I even began to feel connected to it, when I assure you it made a mean face at me. I told the woman, but she didn't believe me. Then after doing that, it began to attack me, but incredibly slowly. It would slowly peck at me, but at a rate 1/10th of the speed other birds would attack. I'm not sure if it was trying to hurt my feelings, toy with me, or just taunt me, but I wasn't having any of it.
Through my research, I found some things out about exotic birds. First, you should pretend that you don't care, that you can't tell. Then pretend that you like it for a little while, and then pretend that you dislike the entire situation. When it stops attacking, you must watch it very closely. This move, for me, included allowing the bird to rest atop my head. I made a series of noises, like sighs and grunts that indicated I was not threatened by the bird and that I really didn't care for its company. I became angry because the bird responded by jumping down and staring at me with malicious eyes. It was intimidating to be sure, but not so intimidating that I couldn't do a stare down. What followed was one of the more intense staring contests I've ever had (humans included).
At the height of the stare down, just as I was about to win (I'm not presuming either, I've been in enough staring contests to know), the bird's compatriot entered the picture and broke my concentration. I was 
mad to be sure, but not so mad I couldn't pose for a picture with the two of them. They were both extremely cute for being birds, and for one of them having just slowly attacked me and engaged in a stare down. I left without a falcon or cockatoo, but with a better understanding of birds and bird aggression. I will use that knowledge in the coming months to prepare for the
inevitable, a stare down with a falcon...my falcon.
tips *LAIRD*
Okay men, consider yourself lucky. I'm going to impart some sage advice, nay wisdom, on that art of seducing ladies. The key to it all is being who they want you to be. It's not lying per say, just accentuating your different sides. Here are some tips that come to mind.
-For the mothering type, who likes a fixer-upper, I tell her about my divorce, choke back some tears, and BAM, I'm in.
-If I meet her at the gym, I suggest a private yoga session at my house . . . really I have a lot of space.
-If she's a career woman, I tell her I'm a doctor, and that's true! Dentist's are doctors.
I'm a man for every lady, every lady but my ex-wife, of course . . .
It's all in the details.
So, let's say there's a beautiful woman walking down the street. Pay close attention. Take note of her hair color, her shoes, the way she caries her bag. I don't mean actually get to know her, just look for that thing to talk to her about. Or, even better, ask her about. Let her do the talking.
I'll give you an example; well it's a true story actually. It happened just the other week. I was out for a jog when I passed this foxy redhead walking her dog.
Now, the type of dog is very important. It tells you what kind of a personality the lady has. So if my foxy redhead was walking a lab, this tells me she's easy going, fun.
But she was not; she was walking a Yorkie, you know the ones that look like weird little brown cupcakes?
So I jog over to her and say, "Oh he is so cute, what 's his name?"
I flash a smile and she giggles "Boris." I find out this woman is new, just moved here from Florida, or was it Michigan? Either way, she didn't really know anyone here, so I suggested she get to know me better.
It was perfect, I went to her apartment twice, and then I stopped jogging through the park by her place.
Okay, that's all I have time for, gotta get ready for my date tonight . . . met her at the grocery store.
walked through a Bat Mitzvah *MARMADUKE*
I apparently walked through a Bat Mitzvah last night, where this man had created his own yarmulke, complete with glitter. I applaud his attention to detail and his working with household items. I thought, "I would like to interact with this man in a non-religious-party setting", so I found him online.
http://www.myspace.com/garysangels
first attempt at blogging *GRACEN*
From the plate of Gracen Brooker
So my son, Marmaduke, started blogging a little while ago, and my lovely wife suggested I try it. She says I should try finding common interests with the boy. Well, I guess he's a man, technically. He's been spending a lot of time in his room on the computer the past couple days so we guess he's now a blogger.
I'll be honest (because that's what I'm supposed to do, right?) I don't know how I feel about this blogging concept, but after some skilled encouragement from my enthusiastic wife . . . here I am.
So, I guess this is sort of like a journal, or a diary, but online, so it's not private, everyone can read this. I kept a journal in high school. Yup, hid it under my mattress, along with some other private reading items. I wrote in it every Sunday night, until my dad found it and threw it out.
Okay, so I guess I can tell you about about my day. Breakfast was good: whole grain granola and yogurt. Three quarters of a cup of coffee -- I was a little rushed.
At work my second appointment cancelled so I walked over to Fidel's for some java.
When I got there, I decided to get a little crazy, so I ordered a cappuccino. It was okay.
So there I was, sipping my foamy cappuccino, people watching, when a flyer on the bulletin board caught my attention.
WANTED: players for a co-ed ultimate team.
That's right, ultimate Frisbee.
The games are every Tuesday night.
I'm pretty sure Marm likes throwing things and I believe he also likes catching things. I remember playing Frisbee with him once, or maybe that was the neighbour's kid . . . never mind.
It's a non-contact sport, and I think that's important for Marm.
Yeah, I can see it, us in our matching Jerseys . . . father and son. I'll throw, he'll catch. Maybe grab a beer after the game with some of the other guys.
Oh, who am I kidding.
old decor *MARMADUKE*
I once had an arm in my room, on the wall. I could practice shaking hands and make subtle movements
