From tob@cwis.unomaha.edu Tue May  4 12:47:55 1993
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Date: Tue, 4 May 1993 12:47:35 -0500 (CDT)
From: Tob Wood <tob@cwis.unomaha.edu>
Sender: Tob Wood <tob@cwis.unomaha.edu>
Reply-To: Tob Wood <tob@cwis.unomaha.edu>
Subject: Fog
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        gt6877c@prism.gatech.edu, umdesch4@ccu.umanitoba.ca
Cc: Jennifer Grimm <grimm@cwis.unomaha.edu>
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Status: O


Last night (or this morning depending on how you look at it; as far as I'm
concerned, if it is dark, it is nighttime, if it is light, it is daytime.
Sure, this may be a crude but effective system, but it's better than
saying "oh-three-hundred-hours"!  Nobody can figure that stuff out) at about
3:15 am (and since we're on the subject, we should entirely dispose with
`a.m.' and `p.m.' because nobody even knows what it stands for!  I propose
that we say `Light' or `Dark' after the numbers.  This would finally end
the confusion over whether 12:00 am was noon or midnight.  With my system,
if someone said, "It's 12:00 light", you'd know it was time to eat lunch.
If someone said, "It's 12:00 dark", you'd know it was time to go to the party)
I was driving home from school, and this fog rolled in (not instantaneously;
I mean it was there before I even went outside and sice there wasn't any
inside, I was surprised).  The fog was as thick as the proverbial pea soup (I
actually had Proverbial Pea Soup in a fancy resaurant.  It's kind of like
alphabet soup, except that when you take out the letters, they spell out
things like "A stitch in time saves nine".   What in the hell does that mean
anyway?  Who writes these things?  If there was any money in it, I'd be a
Proverb Writer in a New York minute.  I'd be great at it; "Many wheels
protect the inside".  See? I'm a natural) and you could only see about 80
feet in front of you (how do I know it was 80 feet?  I don't.  I never have
been a good judge of distance.  If somebody asked me how far it was to France,
I'd probably say, `Oh, about a mile'.  Well maybe not *France*.  Besides if
itt was France, I'd have to say `Oh, about a kilometer').

O.k., let's just abandon the fog story; we'll never get through it.  All I
wanted to say was that there was a lot of fog and I wish it would be like
that all the time.  I dig fog.  I even used to sell fog machines.  Truth.
My favorite model is the Rosco 1300 (retail price $650, but I could set you
up with one for about $525).  These suckers can kick out 1500 cubic feet of
fog a minute.  That's enough to fill a 8 by 10 bedroom in 30 seconds.  (Do
the math in your head.  I can't.)  The Dramatic Arts Dept here has a Rosco
Pro 3000, the Big Daddy of fog machines.  Double the output for twice as
long.  Killer.   And if you still don't believe that I know anything about
fog machines, here's more evidence:  Fog Juice costs $12.95 a quart, retail
price (about 63 francs per liter in France).
  
I hear some of you saying "Tob, what's your hang-up with France today?".

Well,  I had a dream this morning (it was around 8:30 Light).  It was about
this other girl that I have a crush on, but she doesn't even know I exist.
 Although she has caught me staring at her on more than a few occaisions.
She's French.  I dig French women.  I don't mean to be exclusive, in reality
I dig ALL women.   Well, except for those few Unhinged-Gun-Toting-Homocidal-
Sociopathic-Ultra-Psycho-Bitches who are trying to kill me, but there aren't
that many of those....

Where was I?  Oh yeah,  I was at a restaurant eating with her.  It wasn't a
date or anything, we were just sitting at the table.  As a matter of fact,
she wasn't eating, she was watching me eat with a frown on her face.  I
noticed this and said, "What?"
   She said (in a French accent), "I don't like the way you chew."
   After a pause, I sarcastically replied, "Why, does it `turn you off'?"
   "Yes, it's the opposite of everything else."  She said.
I thought about this briefly, but then I woke up before anything else
happened.  I think she wanted me.   Does this make her my "dream girl"?
I dream about lots of people, but I don't consider them to be my "dream
people".   I even dream about toasters, but that doesn't make them my "dream
toaster.  My "dream toaster" would be a six slot variable termostat one with
special slots for bagels, and it would butter stuff for you automatically if
you pushed the `AutoButter' button.  When the toast popped up, it would fly
through the air and land on your plate, just like on TV.  It would be called
something like "The Toastmaster 2000".  I would be the Toastmaster General.

Speaking of bagels, here's another recipe for a Tobsnack that I haven't
come up with a name for.  Just make some and deal with it.

 Get yerself an onion bagel.  Cut it in half.  Be careful, knives are sharp.
Stick it under the broiler until it's lightly browned.  Take it out.  Put
it somewhere (preferably somewhere you'll remember).  Get some butter out
of your refrigerator.  Get the garlic and pepper from the spice rack.  Get
the shredded mozzarella cheese out of the dairy compartment.  Find the bagel.
Now here's the tricky part:  Lightly butter the bagel halves, and then
lightly dust them with the garlic and pepper.  Pile on as much cheese as
you can comfortably cope with.  Put them back under the broiler until the
cheese starts to brown and gets all booobly-booooobly (you'll know it when
you see it).  Take them out, let them cool slightly (booobly-booooobly cheese
can sear the roof of your mouth, but you probably know this already because
you've done it to yourself before, haven't you?  Eating pizza.  Admit it.)
Now eat them and make "Hmmm MMMMmmm M MM MmmmMMMmmM" noises at the same time.
Yes, you have to make the "MMMmmMMm" noises or else something in the gestalt
of the experience is lost.  Now go make more.

Now I'm hungry, so I'm taking off....

Tob
 

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