My Page: Mark Hebert
My day of Missoula MadnessThe Crue, mouth slapping, veggie tossing and Keith Richards’ toe cheese …what a day. [more]
Commentary
If the Road is On a Diet …Having lived in California for a good portion of my existence, bumper-to-bumper traffic is something one learns to live with and remains just another part of life that makes you say “*#t$#r&u%$#r!!!.”
The joy of finishing an eight-hour workday is quickly washed away when one is greeted by a freeway jammed tighter with automobiles then Dolly Parton’s brazier jammed with … well you get my point. The freeways there are a lot bigger – at times as many as five lanes across in one direction – but with so many people bopping around, the smog becomes thick, patience runs thin and fatal accidents, police chases and carpool-lane shootings are as common in the Golden State as a pair of fake … never mind.
So it was with great pleasure in the winter of 1996 that I moved to Missoula, Montana (my birth place some 24-years prior) and found the traffic was sparse and that tooling around the Garden City via car/truck/scooter/motorcycle was a snap. Flash forward to the summer of 2006 where the only snap still associated with travel in Missoula was the sound of my neck popping when I looked back at a grey-haired Betty in gold, Buick Lasabre to make sure she really had flashed me the finger after I inadvertently cut her off on North Reserve Street last Thursday.
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The Rant of a Missoula Father
How Tigger and Rick James Ruined My DayYesterday, while watching the DoodleBops with my daughter, I came to the realization that I’m no longer cool and the things that I used to think are cool are definitely lame. I know that this is a fact that every father comes too, that at a certain age my daughter will no longer look at me as a superhero but rather a dweeb-nut, but at the age of 34, I didn’t think it would happen so soon.
As the DoodleBops ended with their signature tune, a song so catchy and annoying that once it’s running through my head it makes my scalp bleed and the wax in my ears bubble, and after the credits rolled, on came a commercial pushing a Tigger doll. Sophia, my nearly-three-year-old daughter, loves Pooh and his posse, and likes Tigger more then the rest.
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