Archives: richie

Passport Photos

On a trip to Amsterdam last week, I was reminded how truly horrible my passport photo is. We were in New York and I had to renew my passport. I was directed to a little shop down the street. I have no idea what this shop actually sold, but the man at the counter was somewhat willing to take a passport photo. He didn’t use any words but gestured for me to sit on a chair against the wall. As I turn and move to sit on the stool I hear the camera click. I froze, hunched over, somewhere between sitting and standing. By the time I realized it was no longer necessary for me to finish sitting, he pulled the photo out of the camera and walked over to the register. The whole process took about two minutes — how’s that for great service?


New York Mormon

So, I’m buying a car and the salesman asks where I lived before Oregon. I told him New York and he asked if I was a Yankee’s fan. I, of course, told him that I was a Red Sox fan. He gave me a strange look and said, “That’s like being from Utah and not being a Mormon.”


Beyond Our Control

I called the IRS yesterday and got the following message:

Due to circumstances beyond our control, we cannot answer your call.

That’s it. No “leave a message and we’ll call you back” or “call back during regular business hours”…What does this mean?


The Mayor

The mayor is following me on twitter. If this is a cunning trick to build support, it’s kind of working…


Baby Long Neck

When I was a kid, my brothers and sisters told me I was a baby giraffe that my mom stole from a zoo. They called me “baby long neck.” As the story went, my mom fixed all the mirrors in the house so I saw a boy when I looked.

After posting this photo on Facebook, my brother instant messaged me:

Tom: jerk!
Rich: haha
Tom: At least your pants fit in that picture
Rich: Your pants would fit too if they weren’t pulled up to your chest.

my family and other animals richie


My Ophthalmologist father-in-law misunderstood what I wanted for Christmas.

my family and other animals richie

Tough Love

After a delicious lunch at Whole Foods I started to feel a little sick. Walking around downtown Portland, I suddenly knew the time was near: I was going to throw up. Now, when I throw up, it is VIOLENT. It is LOUD. And, of course, it is MESSY. I looked around to find the best place to do such a thing. There was a garbage can in front of me, but I just couldn’t bring myself to stick my head in it. There were several restaurants, but it just seemed wildly inappropriate. The best option seemed to be some planters. I thought it might even fertilize the plants or have some other beneficial side effect I don’t understand. I went around the corner to find one on a not-so-busy street and paused for a second. Next to the planter was a young couple — high school age, maybe — making out. Now, it was the type of making out in public that annoys everybody. Even if I wanted to find a different spot (which didn’t happen to be the case), I was running out of time. I walked over to the planter, placed my hands on the edge and let out a really big dry heave. Rather than vomit, what came out was a big painful scream. I can’t really say what their reaction was, but it had to have been good after seeing this guy walk over to their planter, grab the edge like he’s going to pull it apart, then yell at the top of his lungs for no apparent reason. Serves ’em right.

Sorry there is no photo to go along with this, not that you would want one.



So, thanks to my post about the Richie album, I now get amazon ads for Lionel Richie and Michael Bolton’s mug shows up on the Google ads. At least I hope that’s why.

rich and beautiful richie


Claire and I have our songs like every other couple. Because I rarely sing, I thought it would be a fun gift if I recorded myself singing all of “our songs” and make a CD for her. Now, this was never intended to be a CD that she actually listens to, at least not more than once. The idea was to sing it with my own version of the lyrics, bad imitation of the singer’s voice, and an overall listening experience that one could only endure once, but that would hopefully get a good laugh.

I finally set out to record myself singing these songs in a nearby church parking lot where there were no cars. I pulled out my laptop and starting to sing as loudly as I could into the microphone. It was so loud, I am sure the sound escaped the car. These ideal circumstances lasted about ten seconds. Quickly, the parking lot started to fill up with cars. People were walking by, staring at some guy sitting alone in his car, yelling. I couldn’t stop because I was in the middle of a song and, besides, people kept coming. There must have been an event or something. I was determined to make this CD, so I kept singing.

I finish recording, go home, find a Lionel Richie album cover and photoshop out the “Lionel” so it just read “Richie.” I then put my face on Lionel Richie’s body, preserving his mustache and afro. And no, I’m not posting any of the songs or the album cover.

rich and beautiful richie

Rich changes a tire

I changed my first tire the other day. I took the spare out, rolled it to the far end of the garage by the front of the two cars, turned it, and leaned it up against the wall. I walked about 20 feet and grabbed the jack. As I was walking back, I noticed the tire was not where I left it. I got to the spot between the two cars in time to see the tire rolling out of the garage, quickly. I ran after it, but it beat me to the end of the driveway and turned down the street. Seriously, it just made a right after rolling out of the garage. It was like a remote control tire — and the driver was some punk hiding in a tree, laughing at me.

We live on a bit of a hill, so the tire started cruising down the street. I ran as fast as I could after it and tried kicking to knock it over. It wobbled a little but kept rolling, faster and faster. I tried again and, once again, there was a little wobble but it had too much momentum at this point. Finally, I charged the tire and was able to at least change its course. It rolled right into the driveway of someone who lives too far from us to really be considered a neighbor, came to a stop as though the punk kid had grown tired of playing with me, and toppled over.