The 39th Chapter in the Book of Brian

Thirty nine years ago, this handsome little devil decided it was time to make an appearance on this chunk of granite that we like to call a planet (full credit to Blues Traveler for the rhyme).



Early on he showed an affinity for his sandbox, peanut butter and the Floppy Show.



Naturally, he was quite a ladies man and always seemed to have a gaggle of young lovelies congregated around the homestead. I mean, could you blame them? The shirt really says it all.



Later in life he met his mechanical soulmate - also known mah bike. Check out the Mongoose badness. Yes, I still have it. Don't judge me.



By the time Jr. High was on the radar it was clear this Mr. Man had himself a talent for halfassing school and fullassing (the more intellectually stimulating) mischief. Man, am I glad they didn't have Ritalin or diagnoses like Oppositional Defiant and Conduct Disorder back then.

About midway through his high school years (otherwise known as Brian's attempt at a remake of the Ferris Bulleur movie) he encountered this girl. Apparently she had a plan, a vision, a long range strategy. It involved him. She said knew what was best. He wasn't so sure. One time he tried to breakup with her, she said "no".

As it turns out she was right (please don't tell her I said that).



The morning of his 39th birthday that handsome little devil got up to 6-8 inches of snow drifting in his driveway. He set to the unenviable task of shoveling it (no mechanical snowblowing assistance for this bad boy). About midway through his youngest daughter, Allie, came out to "help".



Soon, plans for a camouflaged snowfort took shape. The doorway is snugged up to the garage door and isn't visible from the street.



The incognito nature is necessary because of the pack of ruffian young boys that roam our neighborhood. They are under heavy suspicion for the early demise of the Vampire Penguin Snowman.

Ruffians, we are watching you.

Katie came out just in time to curl her nose up at the juvenile idea of a snowfort and take a quick sledding pass on the freshly Dad-plowed driveway. Thanks for all the help Katie.



I piled the snowfort high and packed it tight, carved a door and then it occurred to me: That handsome little devil did a lot of tripping, fumbling, bumbling and falling along the way, but somehow still wound up to be one lucky little devil. I hope the next 39 are as good as the first.

With all the Guitar Hero Excitement...

I almost forgot that I went on a chilly ride last weekend. By the way, if you play Guitar Hero too long you will see those green, yellow and red blobs coming down the guitar fret at you all night - in your dreams. No rest for the aspiring rock star, I guess.

Starting at Birdland we rode the Neil Smith Trail north until running into mucho ice. We then turned around and headed back downtown. Crossing the tressle by Principal Park we came across two of Des Moines finest young minds doing - uhm, river ice research, or something. I believe that children are the future, just maybe not these two.



The trail connecting Waterworks and Greenwood Park has been ice plowed, pretty cool.



A lost soul, alas I think its too late for him.



There's a trail here, its just under a couple feet (at least) of ice.



We did about 23 miles. Cappy and I did a 4 mile jog around Grey's Lake the day before so I was pretty gassed by the end of the ride.

Corey informed me that he has ordered some studded tires for his mountain bike. So now Squirrel has trick bike chains, Rick and Corey have studs and I've got -- nuthin'. So, what's a guy to do? Poke along on an ice sheet while your buds plow right through? Oh, I don't think so.

So, in a literal case of keeping up with the Joneses I have ordered my own studs, some Nokian Extremes. They're 'spensive but I got a nice price on them with free shipping from Speedgoat

They probably won't help much, but at least I won't have any excuses - or concussions (hopefully).

Gutterhelmet Rocks the House

Deep down in Louisiana, close to New Orleans.
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens,
there stood a log cabin made of earth and wood,
where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Good
He never learned to read or write so well, but
he could play the guitar just like ringing a bell

Go! Go!

Okay, so my name is not Johnny (and I read and rite purdy gude, thank you vury mush). I don't live in a log cabin either, but I DO have dreams of rock and roll glory.

So, after much contemplation and careful research I've decided.....

I'm going to be a rock star.

I'm pretty excited, I think this career change will suit me well. The first phase of my rock star plan? Buy Guitar Hero of course (duh.)

The game lets you customize your rocker and pick a band name. My band is Gutterhelmet, look for us at a raucous venue near you. I hope I don't have copyright infringement problems with these people. Ever since I saw their advertisement I wanted a band named a Gutterhelmet. I think they should consider it an homage.

In case you couldn't pick it up just from the name, we're pretty heavy metal. Yep, we're angry about stuff. We wear flannel shirts even though we're not cold. Even our new clothes are ripped. We have lots of leather bits with buckles and straps 'cuz everyone knows that makes you pretty tough and stuff.

Our amps go to 11.



Don't provoke us or you just might end up getting dissed in one of our jams.

If you are not familiar with the game. It goes something like this.



My game came bundled with a front man that has alcohol/drug problems and a horde of skanky groupies. I'm well on my way......to rehab.

What could be more rock and roll than that?

Clearly, I already rock, now I just need the star part.