Sunday, March 25, 2007

Frozen Foot Baby Ping Pong

Great new game! It's called "Frozen Foot Baby Ping Pong", and it's way fun! You folks who already like ping pong will completely lose it when you play this delightful and wicked zangy new sport; in fact, your bowels may explode with happiness (I know mine sure did.)

So basically, like I said, if you've got any kind of grasp of regular ping pong, Frozen Baby Foot Ping Pong won't really even be all that much of a stretch. The only difference is, you can't move your feet at all, and you have to try to make it as easy for your opponent as you can by hitting the ball really softly and right to him. That way, the not-moving-your-feet-rule makes it harder, but the fact that you're only playing baby ping pong, with someone who's handicapped and trying his hardest not to win, balances that out pretty well. It ends up being sort of the same as regular pingpong, in that it's harder, but also way easier. But it's still different, kind of, and it's been a long winter.

Every winter is a long winter, and that's why I wish I didn't live here. But I do, and if a mild-mannered diversion like Frozen Foot Baby Ping Pong (which, by the way, doesn't even use real babies) can relax me a little every now and then, I'm happy to endure it, I think (probably.)

What I'm particularly excited about right now, though, is that the ever-increasingly superb Mrs. Kelp and I are headed away on a fabulous vacation on Monday, and we are totally psyched (or, if you prefer, "glad.") We haven't been on a vacation in years, other than the fact that we're almost never exactly working to any noticeable degree, anyway. Perhaps we don't actually deserve a break as much as a regular couple that had "actual" jobs, but we feel that not having a job produces quite a bit of anxiety, and that's why we're going on vacation.

Of course, going on a vacation is a delicate matter. My thoroughly bitchin' wife, the ever rhapsodic Mrs. K., prefers not to travel too far from home, the better that we can get back there right away when whichever poor sap we got to pet sit realizes what they've gotten themselves into (our collection of mutts -we don't like to say how many, let's just say more than five -is relatively high on mange, not to mention random, impractical and un-recommended velocity; there's just so many of them, and each one is so extraordinarily unstable!) If the stupid sitters would just use the damn moat, they'd be better off, but they always forget to wind up the drawbridge.

Anyway, it's a hilarious assignment, and we've grown accustomed to the panicky phone calls; but while my wife wants to be available in case of trouble, I feel it's funnier if we aren't. Thus, I'm always trying to talk her into going somewhere far away, while she's a little reticent about crossing the bridge (especially since that time a few years ago when we went to Worcester for Oktoberfest... man, I'll never live that one down.)

But this year she said she'd go somewhere sporty, and there was this place I've always been dying to go to, but I was worried about the language barrier; and then we both decided "aw, what the heck? It's not like speaking English really seems to help that much anyway!"; so, we're going, day after tomorrow, to New Bedford! The only downside is, the travel time means you lose most of the first day (we travel kind of slow-ly), which is too bad.

Mrs. K is all in a tizzy tonight, as we're not sure what the climate there might be like exactly, so she can't figure out what to wear. I always tell her, "you wear whatever you want -I'll be in my sweat suit", but it never seems to help. That woman is impossible!

Random suggestions: go rent a movie called "Half Nelson" with Ryan Gosling and Shareeka Epps. It's a about a high school teacher with a substance problem, and it is remarkably free of false notes of any kind -both Kelps just loved it.

Also, here's some good things to look up on YouTube: talking cats (you could also try entering "Long John Johnson"); human slingshot; and dick in a box. Also be aware that there's a large wad of Ricky Gervais (the genius creator of the original British "The Office"
series) material up there, including a five part presentation of Gervais interviewing "Seinfeld" / "Curb Your Enthusiasm" creator Larry David.

Ok, you're on your own.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Blair Kelp on Sportsdesk - Superbowl Deview

First of all, I've changed my name to "Blair". Frankly, I've been thinking for some time that "Thurston" really sounds a little too butch, whereas "Blair" really doesn't.

When I originally made up the name "Thurston Kelp" (I know you'll be interested in this!), I wanted to use "Thurston" because I thought it sounded British, but I was never really satisfied with it, and worried that it didn't sound British enough. Now that I'm Blair, though, my name sounds British as all get-out. Or at least the "Blair" part does. Now "Kelp" seems like the problem -it's so, mmmm... short. I may eventually have to take the whole thing in and have it hyphenated, once and for all.

But that's not your problem, or at least it hadn't been until recently! I'm also all excited about all the awards and the Superbowl and everything, even though some of them happened already, and I'm not sure which ones or when!

I was fortunate enough to take in the Superbowl (and, by the way, perhaps this is a good time to apologize for being so tardy lately with the damn kolumn, but I really have been so busy picking my name and everything. But I know, I was thinking about you guys all the time and how I must be disappointing you, or you may have been even concerned, thinking, oh! I've missed my deadline by almost three weeks, surely that's long even by my so-called standards, is there a substance problem with old Blair or what?)) (By the way, I also considered "Rusty", Rusty Kelp, but it didn't sound British enough, it sounded more like a burlesque MC. Of course the reason we got into this whole mess in the (first) place was because my original editor at the Cape Codder ((who shall remain nameless, at least until I remember his name, wait! -it was Karen! What a great name!))) who objected to my original (or, as I just typed, "orinal") pseudonym, R. Nalton Thruppy.))))) and, anyway, it was a pretty good game.

I particularly enjoyed when, early in the game, the Colts' kicker, Adam Vinatieri (until this year one of the Pats' biggest heroes), missed a field goal, and a jubilant roar went up in front of tv sets all over New England as spoiled, bitter Patriots fans celebrated his momentary failure and embarrassment. Rarely do you get to see so many revel so heartily in misery of such a tangential degree. If only he'd kept missing, northeast football fans would've been over the moon, overcome with joy that we might have finally traded one of our greats just prior to his disgrace instead of just after like usual.

As a person who always enjoys seeing rich people inconvenienced, I very much appreciated getting to see the millionaires collide in horrible, near-monsoon conditions -in other words, perfect football weather! I must say I was looking forward to an unsightly debacle at halftime, figuring Prince, who's only a little fella anyway and arguably past his prime, to be squashed flat by the torrential downpour; but what to my wondering eyes did appear but a near-perfect (after all, he did cover "Proud Mary", so let's not get carried away), seemingly effortless, entirely inspired show! Damn! What a guy!

And, sure, I guess a lot of papers probably got you this news faster, but I'll bet not in this kind of detail.

The Colts won by pretty much, probably about 36 to about 12 for the other team.

I'd like to thank my research team, but I don't have one. They're all gone. I'd also like to mention that the Red Hot Chili Peppers stink bigtime (even bigger time than usual at the Grammies, which I could've lived without seeing the last fifteen minutes of. When will they add "the hipness"?)

It's winter on Cape Cod. Go to sleep.

NEXT TIME (figure early April or thereabouts) ? the ALL-KELP OSCAR SPECIAL!!!