Honestly, I am torn here. This one might actually be better, especially when you look at the Joker and how he is pretty much the wost killer in the history of comics (or at least in the top 5 of a list I just don't have the energy to contemplate) and he runs away yelling "HA HA! I've made someone cry!"
Add to that the freaky image that it looks like Past Joker from panel 2 is going to kick Present Kid from panel 3 in the head, completely futzing the space/time continuum and destroying the known universe in the process, and you have yourself a kick ass comic page.
While making my random list of bitchiness, I forgot this...
Never trust someone who has their own name tattooed anywhere on their person (usually their arm, but why not cover all the bases). At best, they are narcissistic, at worst, they are such frigging morons they need to refer to their own flesh when someone asks them to identify themselves. And if the questions go beyond name, you probably don't want to see where they keep the rest of the information.
And a corrolary to that, never fuck with someone who has their loved one's name tattood on the FRONT OF THEIR OWN NECK! Their is only one person I know of who has that, but I still think that it is a generally good rule to follow.
And THIS is that guy. See the front of his neck? It says "Sara". The man got a tattoo ACROSS HIS FREAKING LARYNX! You gotta admit that is one hell of a bigger committment than a ring on your finger. Ain't no way you can pocket that in a bar if you feel like flirting.
(Except for this. This is meant to be first) Big congrats to my main man Fineous and his lovely lady Shade (almost a real name for once!) for birthing their kid. I will not mention the child's name or sex because I think that is his call to make. If he wants to make their offspring a quasi-celebrity on a not too widely read blog, he can leave a comment (or he can make the announcement on his own blog). But either way, YAY!!!!
(This is also first. It was a tie) And belated congrats on my former best man and his woman that he made legal for their little poop filled ball of joy.
I figure that with the way our cohorts are popping out those that will keep Social Security solvent for us in our declining years (well, it's a hope) that Wifey and I are probably going to wind up with our own little tax write off in the next couple of years, whether we mean to or not.
I am convinced that somewhere there is a portrait of Minnie Driver that is aging, because she apparently isn't.
It is apparently a rule that in order to work for Bulleye Inc. in the clothes (we call them "softlines") area, you have to be a surly sumbitch. At least if you are north of the outskirts of Baltimore.
If you are a man and not working in a hospital (or maybe even if you are) and you wear Crocs for any reason other than medical (there are some medical advantages to wearing these if you have problems with your feet, like if you are a diabetic) than you are a douche.
Sweating sucks (unless you have one of those good reasons).
I am still pissed that Deadwood is no more, and even though John from Cincinatti is (as far as the little bit that I have seen) pretty good (I am due to catch up on it Larry T.U.N. is telling me that it is well worth it, and he usually has a pretty good eye for that), the fact that it is causing David Milch to postpone or even not do the promised 2 two hour tv movies that would wrap up the series because of how exhausting "John" is (read about it HERE) really grinds my gears, so to speak. I demand gratification HBO and David Milch. DEMAND I say!
I have been addicted to THIS (second from top) for quite a while now. Taste it and tell them I sent you. Maybe they will send me a coupon or something.
I know, I know. No posts for 3+ weeks, then all of a sudden I am practically spamming the damn place. Well, it is how I operate. So there.
Anyway, last week I stopped at the local grocery establishment on the way to a now previous then future commitment to get a refreshing, chilled beverage. I will not name the establishment by name, going by my long standing stance of not giving the milk away for free. If you want to be mentioned here, you gotta PAY, FOOL!
...sorry. So there I was in a place who's name rhymes with DuperFlesh when I saw the display of CDs and DVDs. The DVDs are usually stuff that I wouldn't buy, but I cannot help but glance over at them. As far as the music goes, I have been known to purchase a CD from the rack. So far (up to that point) I had purchased 2, both happened to be sitting in the very front of the display with their covers displayed prominently. Both were CDs that I had either previously owned or had a kitsch value that made them well worth the $5.99-6.99. So it was when I looked and saw THEM (look up at picture now)
Yes, Living Colour's Greatest Hits. $6.99. I looked at it, read the back cover, and knew that it HAD to be mine. I remember rocking out heartily to LC back in the day, and was eagerly looking forward to doing so again. But after I put it in my truck's CD player I learned something...
They weren't that good.
I need to clarify something here. Living Colour did indeed rock. They were a guaranteed get the party jumping band. But to listen to them now, you realize that they were pretty much formula rock. They were not innovative, nor were they cheesy. They just were. And that is okay. They were never the musicians that REM were (and are), and they were much to good and had too much pride to be grouped with the Warrants and RATTs of the music world. So I listened to the CD a few times, and now it is in the "I haven't played that one in a while" section of the truck's music collection. It will probably end up on the shelf in the "Oh man, I forgot I had this, I gotta play this now" area, to be dusted off occasionally and enjoyed on it's own merits.
But to tell you truth, I had much higher hopes for it.
...for the weekend. She is taking Momm-O-In-Law away for her berfsday, which is tomorrow (Happy Birthday Momm-O!). Of course, this means that I have the house to myself for the weekend. It also means that I have to take care of Bleu as well as Buttercup, and I do have to work all weekend. So it isn't going to be all that restful. I had to cancel "Guy's Night In" (it never got past the planning stages anyway), which would have consisted of guys hanging out, drinking beer and smoking cigars, grilling animal flesh over hot coals, and general spitting and scratching of one's self (scratching of others only with express written consent of Major League Baseball and may not be disseminated in any form without said consent).
So Wifey is taking her mom away. Sounds nice, right? I think it is a wonderful gesture. Last year she took her to Annapolis, and even though we only live about 35-40 minutes away from Annapolis, they stayed at a bed and breakfast there, which was a cool idea. If they had stayed home they would have maybe made a road trip for a day, but otherwise done what they always do on a weekend. Getting away has its privileges. So with that in mind, where are they going this year? Guess.
Go on, take a guess.
Give up? Okay, I'll tell you.
I will give you a moment to let that sink in.
Is it sunk?
Anyway, I know that Wifey is taking her mom to a spa, and there are other things on the itinerary, but even she will have to admit that Wilmington, DE (I find it is more effective when it is in bold text. I hear that echo-y kind of reverb laden baritone announcer's voice saying it, filling it with portent and meaning) is not exactly known for its tourist trade. I like the tax free shopping. It's cool to go into a McDonald's and know that the price listed on the menu is the EXACT price you are going to pay. It makes math easier. YAY Dollar Menu!
...now I really want a double cheeseburger. Stoopid impressionable stomach!
So I do find the choice a little odd, but I know better than to doubt Wifey's own version of Manifest Destiny.
One last thing. To all the Ronnettes out there who have mentioned designs on me on the off chance of Wifey's premature demise...well...I'll be home all weekend. Alone. With NOBODY to keep me company. All those who don't root for professional football teams from Indiana are welcome to stop by.
I haven't posted in a couple of weeks, after the hell that was the last week of June, I neded the first week of July to recover. It didn't all the way work, but I feel a little bit closer to normal (whatever that is). But I couldn't decide what really described me today, so I went for the smorgasboard (does anyone know how to put the dots over the "o"? Is that an umalat, or however the hell the word is spelled?) approach. Enjoy the dichotomy!