As promised I will give some updates on the fun I had while in Boston.  I arrived Thursday evening to my cousin's house.  She and her son welcomed me with pizza, which was fantastic since I was pretty hungry.  She then asked me, "You up for a massage, cuz?  Because I scheduled you for one tomorrow morning, my treat."  Ladies and gentlemen of the blogosphere, I respectfully submit that when your visit starts that way it's an omen of great things to come.  Friday morning began with massage, followed with a quick visit to my cousin's chiropractic office, continued with a ride on the T (I'm a dork who loves public transportation), included some excellent time at the Museum of Fine Arts (more about that tomorrow), and concluded with a truly wonderful, if not somewhat bizarre (but I'd be disappointed had it not been) visit with Suldog and HIS WIFE.  He has already given his account of the visit, now it's my turn.

As he mentioned over at his place, he gave me walking direction from the Fenway Station to the MFA.  It was quite detailed and got me exactly where I wanted to be with the bonus of a nice walk and less time spent in transit meaning more time in the museum.  The part that made me laugh was the phrase referring to "a small patch of woods."  Now, I adore Suldog and his wife, both.  I would trust their advice with regard to traveling safely about Boston since they are born and bred there.  However, they are cityfolk and I live on a VERY heavily wooded acre of oak and hemlock trees.  Without exaggeration I can tell you that when we moved here we REMOVED over two dozen trees (which were either diseased or weakened in some way as to be hazardous to the house) from our single acre.  Even after that, we still have such a dense stand of trees we cannot grow a lawn for lack of sunlight, it's mostly moss in our yard.  The alleged "small patch of woods" seemed to be a handful of strategically placed trees for effect.  I believe mention was made that I could have been mugged in the woods.  I dunno about that in broad daylight.  I guess if they say it's possible they know what they are talking about but I have had an actual black bear on my very own front porch so this small patch of woods didn't seem to give any more cover for nefarious deeds, and in fact less, than the average alley.

As Suldog has noted over at his place, he picked me up at the station nearest his workplace at the end of his workday and my time at MFA.  I was also treated to a tour of his office at Marketing Messages where I met some of his coworkers who seem equally deranged as he is (in other words, it seems like they all have an awful lot of fun at work).  I am not entirely sure it was an actual workplace though.  I suspect it may have been an asylum because he showed me some well-padded rooms.  He claims they are "recording studios" and the padding was for the acoustics.  I'm told it's best not to upset people suffering with mental illness so we will just allow that story about recording studios to stand unchallenged.

There was further evidence of his derangement though.  After the visit to work we had a little time to kill before picking up HIS WIFE from work and heading out to dinner.  HE said he was going to take me to his house and tie me up in the basement.  When I asked him he admitted he intended to starve me, flay the skin from my carcass, and make himself a skin suit because it seemed that was what his wardrobe was most lacking given I had blessed him with his very own tie dye socks during my last visit.  So here we are outside the Suldog Estate.  I never did see the basement.  Heck, I didn't even see the inside mainly because there was some concern about the alleged disorder of the place.  Suldog needs to show this post to HIS WIFE so she can know that I am the last person on Earth who worries about whether or not someone's house is in perfect order.  Though if they come to visit I promise to put sufficient effort into making sure they won't catch any diseases from my house and I might even dust.


We hopped back into Roddy the Wondercar and sped off to pick up Suldog's WIFE.  We swapped tales of phobias, government tracking of citizens, whorehouses, and other topics that might lead otherwise sane people to doubt our general well-being.  Listen!  Just because large bridges make me think about driving off the edge and he doesn't like EZPASS doesn't mean we are a couple of nutbags who ought to be shut away inside "recording studios!"  That evidence would come at dinner.

sculpture as warning to unruly children?

At last we met with Suldog's WIFE, who is an absolutely wonderful person.  We debated whether or not to have wine or mojitos.  She was of the opinion that since they were dining with Lime we should all have mojitos.  That's logic that's hard to argue with so we all toasted the evening with minty, limey, alcoholic yumminess.  Over dinner they asked what I had seen at MFA and what were my favorite parts.  I'll share that in more detail tomorrow but then they asked me if I had seen the Big Pile of Dicks sculpture outside the MFA.  It's not called that of course but they tell me that to see it leaves the unmistakable impression of a tangled mass of disembodied male members.  I had seen the giant baby heads but missed the Big Pile of Dicks, much to my disappointment.  I tried googling an image by searching the relatively safe  phrase "sculptures outside the MFA."  It was fruitless and I was afraid to google "big pile of dicks" for fear something like this might turn up.  Don't worry, it's safe for work but it's really terrifying.  You've been warned.  On a more positive note, googling a big pile of dicks sounds like something that could be not entirely unpleasant for the recipient of said googling.

The meal was delicious and involved much laughter.  If you read Suldog you know he is one funny guy.  He's even funnier in person.  If you read him you also know HIS WIFE is a great lady with her own fantastic sense of humor.  What you don't know is they are even funnier in person.  If Suldog is chaneling a smarter version of Curly of the Three Stooges, HIS WIFE channels Bob Newhart.  He is complete zaniness personified and she is utterly dry in her delivery.  The two of them together are total hilarity. 

These two riotously funny people welcomed me into one of their weekly rituals involving scratch off lottery tickets.  The tickets they buy look like this.  A player is to scratch off the bank of letters at the bottom and then uncover the same letter in the puzzle.  Depending upon how many words you complete you win more or less money, or no money.  The twist Suldog and HIS WIFE add is making the sound of each letter as they scratch it off.  For example, when Suldog got R (AARRRR-ARRRRR-ARRRRR) he enjoyed sounding like a pirate.  When he got A he did his Fonzie impersonation (AAAYYY-AAAYYY-AAAYYY).  HIS WIFE sounded like a stutterer (BUH-BUH-BUH) or a hesitating engine (PUH-PUH-PUH).  Initially I was a little discouraged because got X and Q.  Really, they were not fun letters to sound out loud.  Things picked up though when I uncovered A, O and M.  I opted for the short vowel sounds though (AAAAHHHH-AHHHHH-AAAAAHHHH, Oh-OH-OOHH-OOOOOOHHHH!!!!!!  MMMM-MMMMM-MMMMMM)  Suldog was overheard saying to the waiter, "I'll have what she's having."  As Suldog described it, we sounded like a table full of retarded nymphomaniacs.  HIS WIFE remarked that even one of her own family members won't play this game with them but that I enjoyed it with previously unseen gusto in an initiate.  Whether I should have or not, I took that as a compliment. Any opportunity to be absurd is a good one.  I'd like to add "retarded nymphos" would be a very groovy name for a rock band, as would "big pile of dicks."

I'd just like to say thanks to Suldog and HIS WIFE for an absolutely fantastic evening eating and laughing together.  I also promise if they ever make it to my neck of the woods I will show them what a neck of woods really looks like and we will find some other public place where we can create mayhem and consternation among the populace.  I won't even threaten to lock them in my basement, mainly because I don't have one.