See what I mean?

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.

D

A

M

N

BSR

Today's Mood Is...

Wifey is back and it makes me happy. Momm-O-in-law is back and that means no waking up early on the weekend to walk her dog. Sleep and lovings brings me inner peace.

You have NO idea how hard it was to not spell "peace" another way.

BSR

Randomness All Over Again

Okay, in no particular order...

(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.

Okay. I'm outta breath. You go.

BSR

Today's Mood Is...

I forgot my wallet this morning, so I no has had any coffee. This makes me sad. And when I get sad, KOFAY KITTEH attacks people. Do not go into the kitchen cabinet for a mug. You have been warned.

Nostalgia ain't what it used to be

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.

Wifey is leaving me

...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.

Wilmington, DE

I will give you a moment to let that sink in.

Is it sunk?

Okay then...

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.

BSR

Today's Mood Is...

Today's OTHER Mood Is...

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!

Today's Mood Is...

What, too soon?

And my other mood is...

This week is going to be the week of the suck. It is the end of the fiscal year at the hospital, so we are trying to cram as many write-offs in this week as possible. Also, at Bullseye Unlimited (I am nicknaming the night job in a vainglorious attempt to set up a later posting of the rules I must follow about posting about the night job. WHEEEE for the corporate moebius strip!) we have inventory on Friday night into Saturday morning. I volunteered to work inventory back when it was going to be on a Thursday night in August. It got moved due to various company-wide machinations that make no sense to anyone who has sense. Of course, if they had sense, they never would have gotten a job on the board. So there.

Add all that up and you get somewhere around a 90 hour week this week. And to make it even MORE fun, Wifey's birthday is on Thursday. So I am off Wednesday night, and I am going to make her a nice spaghetti dinner and hopefully get her drunk enough to put out without getting so drunk that she passes out and I have to carry her down the stairs. It is a fine line with her and her alcohol tolerance. So wish me luck.

One other thing before I get back to crunching those nasty numbers...I am apparently going to be in a music video. Thy want me to reprise the role that Mick Jagger played in the video of his duet with David Bowie when they covered "Dancin' In The Streets". And before you ask, the woman who cast me is NOT blind or in any way challenged. Nor is she lacking depth perception (or width perception). So when I am on YouTube dancing like Mick Jagger and looking like Mick Jagger crossed with Elvis circa 1975, I'll let you know.

BSR

Today's mood is...

Well hello there. I've never seen you here before. Can I buy you a drink?

Bartender...2 saucers of milk!

Today's Mood Is...

The hills are alive with the sound of Akbar...

Yeah, I am at it again

But it is so much fun!

Star Trek Meets Monty Python

I do not know if I posted this before. I am too busy to look in all my archives to double check. But what the hell, enjoy anyway.

Today's Mood Is...

Paging Mr. Herman. Mr. Herman you have a telephone call...

Today's Mood Is...

This day's worth of entries into the world of Big Shirtless Ron is officially Hank approved.

The Lady or the Whack Job

Yes, I watched the Sopranos finale last night. Seeing how I own all the box sets except for the Season 6 Part 1 (and a big thanks to Fineous who got me started on collecting them by giving me Season 1 lo those many years ago. EVERY one was worth EVERY penny), and I actually pissed of a co-worker at Target to arrange to have the evening off, I figured I had to. And since I woke up today I have heard a LOT of people complaining about the ending...

*****SPOILER ALERT*****

Phil Leotardo's death? Possibly the greatest death on the entire show. Not because of his getting shot in the head right in front of his daughter and baby grandkids. That was kinda mean, even if the sumnabitch deserved a gruesome death for all the crap he had been pulling and the incredibly egotistic power play he was on. But because of what happened after he was whacked, with the SUV. I may have spoiled the fact that he bites it (hard), but you really need to see the actual death for yourself. But other than that, the show was pretty even keeled. And also, it was fraggin' brilliant. A lot of things were tied up, and a lot weren't. Will Sil ever recover? Does Tony get indicted? Does it matter, what with the end scene (more in a second)? Will Paulie and the cat ever come to some kind of an understanding? We might never know.

Do I think that David Chase was just setting us up for the possibility of future episodes or a movie (or movies) down the line? Not really. He isn't much for them, having had a not-so-good experience with the Rockford Files reunion movie under his belt. Plus, James Gandolfini has said that the character is not one he is looking forward to getting back into, since it is such a dark and draining character to portray. I can buy that. Hell, I get exhausted watching him sometimes. So, with that said, the end scene...

Tony is at the diner that was the choice of the family for dinner. A greasy spoon type (if you are local, think Bel Loc), with supposedly the best onion rings in town. And I am willing to bet that Tony knows a thing or two about local establishments and the quality of their onion rings. Anyway, Tony is sitting there waiting for the family to arrive. He scans the jukebox and finally decides on Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" (one other thing about this show. The entire run made some fabulous music choices. This was no different). Tony keeps looking up and around. Carmella walks in. Tony gives her a menu. The song keeps playing. Tony keeps looking around. He is tracking a couple of people (the guy in the Member's Only jacket was my favorite). Are they there to whack him? Are they just random people? Are they possibly FBI? Don't forget, Carlo (I think it was Carlo) turned state witness and Tony was told he had an 80-90% chance of being indicted. A.J. walks in. A couple more people of interest to Tony come in. We see Meadow trying in vain to parallel park. We see from her front bumper that this isn't the first time that she has had problems with this. Tony scans the restaurant. The Member's Only guy looks nervous. He gets up and walks towards them. Meadow still can't park. Member's Only walks past to the bathroom. It seems apparent that Tony is unarmed, but we don't know for sure. Tony looks at the guys at the pastry counter again. The song keeps playing. We hear the bells/chimes that are on the door ring. Tony looks up...

BLACKOUT

Music stops. Credits roll. And a nation of fans sit and stare. Many start to complain. WHAT HAPPENED?!? they cry plaintively. Was it Meadow (who had FINALLY gotten the car parked and had been crossing the street)? Was it someone there to take Tony out? Was it the FBI there to arrest him? Who knows?

After it had sunk in, while I was taking the recyclables out for today's pick up, it hit me. It was the Lady or the Tiger. You remember that story, right? If not, check this out. What was it that came through that door that Tony saw? Death, or life? His end, or (in the guise of his engaged daughter and the promise of family and grandchildren) the continuation of his life? We don't know. It is whatever we want it to be. And THAT is the beauty of the show. Life does not have any neatly wrapped up endings. Every ending in our lives is the beginning of something else. So to with the end of this show. The Sopranos is no more. The characters are. Or are they? WE get to decide what makes sense to us, and we can debate ad infinitum, because no matter what decision we make, it is the correct one. I know what I think. And no, I am not going to tell you, at least not just yet. Make your own decision and let me know what YOU think. That is why I have a comments section.

And a final quick note to the soon-to-be-Daddy Fineous... if college counted, than a lot of things would be different. And not just by SNIPping. But let me know what you need, and I will see what I can do.

The Lady or the BSR

Today's Mood Is...

Why, you ask? Well read on...

The King of Queens

I had to work Saturday night at teh Target (it is currently about 12:30 AM Sunday morning). The usual insanity occurred throughout the evening (apparently I have to be VERY careful about what I say as far as what happens in the store. I got a bulletin about it and everything!). It was after the store closed that the fun began. It started when one of the approximately 200 Ericas that work at the store asked me if anyone ever told me that I look like someone on television. I told her that I have gotten a few comparisons to actors over the years, some I liked better than others. I asked her who I reminded her of, but she kept asking me who I had previously been compared to. Well, after about 2 minutes, my interest in the conversation waned enough that I moved on to other things. This displeased her, as she really wanted to tell me who she thought I looked like. So she came over to me and told me that I remind her of Doug Heffernin (I have no idea if that is how the character's name is spelled. She could not remember the actor's name). In case you (like myself) have no idea who that is, it is the character that Kevin James plays on the King of Queens (right now you are thinking that you now know the reason for this entry's title. If it was that obvious, would I have Fear and Loathing cats up there? Of course not. Keep reading...). I suppose that I could have had a worse comparison. Unless it is because she thinks I have a toupee (or did I just say too much?), in which case I am offended. Of all my many physical imperfections (and if you want the full list, just wait until I piss off Wifey and take her out for a few drinks. I hope you have a few hours to kill, because once she gets started on the list, you will be there for a while), going bald is not currently one of them. But I am sure it won't be long.

Side note, I know that I am growing old, and I know that when men grow older the start to get hair in all sorts of inconvenient places. I can deal with the occasional ear hair and the longer nose hairs. Both are easily pluckable. Is pluckable a word? Damn if it ain't now! The hair that I am having a problem with is the old man eyebrow hair. I keep noticing these long ass hairs in my eyebrows, and they are stubborn bastards. They are inherently not easy to pluck, especially if you are trying to avoid plucking the normal length hairs. And since I have no idea to look like a pale Whoopi Goldberg from the eyeballs to the beginning of my thick and luscious hairline, I have to be VERY careful with those tweezers. Anyone who has any ideas on how to rectify this, please let me know as soon as possible.

Okay, back to Target last night. Something you might not be aware of in regards to Target, they are very accepting of gays and lesbians there. I believe they even offer health benefits to "partners", and I am pretty sure that you can give your partner a discount card, which is only for immediate family. Personally I think that is pretty cool. Whatever one's personal beliefs are, I do not think that they should influence business. Well, at my particular Target, there is a fairly large gay/lesbian contingent. I don't know if contingent is the right word, but it will have to do. Well, after we closed, we were all walking about and doing our respective closing tasks, and someone called for a team member named Shan'te (a female, in case you are unsure). Shan'te shouted out "Who wants Shan'te?" Well Shan'te is one of the more popular team members, she is fun to work with and also quite cute. And so a couple of the guys (not me honey, some of those other lecherous bastards) shouted that they, in fact, wanted her. All in good fun, and everybody was having a good laugh over it. One of the shouters was Harry, a good kid if not more than a little naive (I don't know how to put the little mark thing over the word, so if it reads "nave", I can't help that). I told Harry that his wanting her didn't count since he wanted everybody in the store, including me. That also got a good laugh, including from Harry. Then I told Harry not to feel bad because I wanted him too. Again, a good laugh. and THAT is when the fun began...

As I continued my walk/inspection, a male team member (I will avoid using his name, as I do not think he has come out, although it is pretty much common knowledge at least in the store) came up to me and said to me that he thought that I was married, to a woman. I told him I was. He then became confused since I just hit on Harry, and asked if maybe I was bisexual. I told him nope, except for that one night in college, but college doesn't count (another joke, even though at this point I should have realized that humor interpretation was not a strength of his). He put his hand on my shoulder and asked me if I really thought that the one time in college was enough. Well, I might not be the smartest man in town (if you ask Wifey there are about 200 women in the greater Baltimore area alone that would welcome a dalliance with me. If you ask me I want to know where the hell they were before I started dating her. I of course see none of these obvious signs that these women are apparently projecting whenever I get in range of them. But anyway...), but I knew right then and there that I was being offered more than a buddy to watch the game with. I politely told him that I was in fact truly committed to Wifey, and if she ever leaves me, then after the requisite grieving period I will go out and find another ovaried companion, but that I appreciated the offer (honestly, I had no idea what the hell to say to him, so what I really said was "ummm...no...I'm good. Thanks anyway", then moved on to complete my task).

So, yes. At least for one day, I am truly the King of Queens. Huzzah!

Now I need to go to bed. Work tomorrow morning and then the big Sopranos series finale tomorrow night Larry the Upstairs Neighbor and I are doing a big pot of spaghetti with homemade meatballs and sauce, and some cheesy garlic bread. YUMMERS!

BSR

post script - I just ran Blogger's spellcheck, and apparently "pluckable" is NOT a word. So now you know.

BOOGIE WARS

Yes, I would own this. If I don't already, that is.

Saying Farewell to a legend

Yes, Charles Nelson Reilly passed away this weekend. And yes, he did make Ghandi look like a child pornographer.

Pulp Muppet

And THIS is why I posted that. Happy Monday biznitches!

Samuel L Swedish

Probably NSFW (unless you can drop the F-Bomb at work, in which case knock yourself out). But FUN.

Today's Mood Is...

roar.

Today's Mood Is...

Why? Because I have a job interview for a possible new day job, one that just might pay enough to curtail and/or leave job deux. So cross whatever body parts you have for me. Twice.

BSR

Today's mood is...

I got a speeding ticket on the way home today. Was I speeding? Yes. Does it make me any less annoyed that I got a ticket for it because I am guilty? No. To make it worse, I was the last of 5 cars going the same speed, and I was the only one that they pulled over. And before you even say it, I know that "the guy in front of me was speeding" is not a valid legal argument. But I did feel a little singled out. The cop was relatively cool. I made sure that my hands were on 10 and 2, and that he witnessed me taking off my seat belt to get to my wallet. He asked for licence and registration, only then did I move. I handed them to him and responded only with "yes sir" and the like. He said he got me doing 53 in a 30 (which I highly doubt), but he put it down as 47. Then he told me that I have a good driving record and I should go to court, the judge will probably give me a break. To which I said (well after I had pulled away and was out of ear shot) WHOOPTY-FUCKING-DOO!!!!!!!!. To the officer I said "yes sir".

Not to mention that the cat tried to set herself on fire, and according to Wifey, partially succeeded. Now that I know that she is okay, it would strike me as friggin' hilarious, but I am in the aforementioned crappy mood and can't enjoy the cat flambe humor. Damn it.

I still owe you a review for Spiderman 3. It is not going to be nearly as in depth as I would like it to be, but I have way too much crap to do (which is what I was thinking of instead of monitoring my speedometer and realizing that the mini caravan I was in was pulling a little live version of Maximum Overdrive on Belair Road). So here we go...

It is a long movie (pushing 2 and a half hours). It can get a little hokey at points. By that I mean that it feels almost like they tried to shoehorn in some personal life drama for Pete and the gang where there didn't need to be. Spidey always has crap raining down on him, but this felt like it was forced in to counterbalance the action sequences. The action was fun. Well done and there were some nice new wrinkles. Thomas Haden Church is excellent as the Sandman, even if I didn't agree with the continuity alteration that wedged Flint Marko (Sandman's "real" name) deep into Pete's life. Church is a very good actor, and he makes the character real and 3 dimensional, which is not always easy in comic book movies. I am not a huge Kirsten Dunst fan, and she does nothing for me to sway me in either direction here. I felt like Gwen Stacy was really underutilized as a character. I did not see any real reason for her to be introduced. I love the character from the comics, but the part she plays in this particular story could have been by any female. She didn't have to be named Gwen Stacy. Jameson is hilarious as always. I liked what Tobey Maguire did with the character change with the black suit. I thought Topher Grace was a decent to good Eddie Brock. I wasn't fond of the way they changed his tragic flaw from the comic (and yes I am aware that they cannot be 100% faithful to continuity from the comic. However, in the comic Eddie Brock made an honest mistake, he was duped. In this one, his mistake was one of malicious intent. I hope I am not giving away so much that you can see what he does before it is revealed. I am kinda new at this major movie review thing). As Venom, he is a good villain. I liked the CGI on that. And James Franco was better than I was expecting as the "New Goblin" (I don't like that name either). Again they throw in some nice allusions to the comic here, even if they do it by crossing characters with occurrences that happened to someone else within the book itself.

Final analysis? Not as good as Spiderman 2 (or even 1), but if you enjoyed the other two, you will like this one. It definitely didn't leave me panting for another sequel like the 2nd one did. If they make Spiderman 4, I will probably go see it. But it won't be pressing me as much as this one was. All that said, odds are I will make an attempt to go see this again, hopefully with a less critical eye and just go in to enjoy the flick. But I still want to see Hot Fuzz first.

Okay, I have to get to work here. Damn the man. Save the EMPIRE!!!

BSR

Words Fail Me

I am not having a good day. I might have mentioned this. I saw this video on Something Awful, and for the entire 3:51 I stared at the screen dumbfounded. I have to hope that this isn't supposed to be serious, but I fear that is all TOO serious. And you wonder why MTV went to all non video programming. It is because some intern unearthed this gem and tried to get it on the rotation.

Too tired to analyze

I am seriously sleep deprived today, and I am not going to be able to focus on the Spidey 3 critique today. Sorry Fineous. But that is of little consequence since I give you the undisputed KING OF THE MULLETS! Earrings, tattoo high on the shoulder, sunglasses in the teeth, and what I believe is a wolf shirt cut off into a sweet muscle shirt, so you also get a free ticket to the gun show.

HELLS YEAH!

BSR

Today's Mood Is...

Yes, Willem is helping me celebrate the fact that Larry the Upstairs Neighbor just told me that he has ONE seat left to go see Spider Man 3 at Arundel Mills tonight (he had 2 and decided that he wanted to use one of them, the greedy bastard). So, with apologies to Wifey, who I WILL go see the movie with later on, I am going to the show tonight.

I need to let you all know something. I am very particular about going to see movies. I like to be able to enjoy a movie, and because of that I have an unwritten law of waiting at least 2 to 3 weeks before I will go see a movie. The more popular the movie the longer the self imposed exile. The only exception is when Larry and our friend "The Connection" get passes for sneak previews for movies. You see, "The Connection" (and yes, his name will ALWAYS be in quotation marks) is the guy who sets up the previews for the critics and for the radio stations who give away tickets to caller #9. When he has extra space above and beyond those commitments, he tells his friends and it is first come first serve. Well, Larry came first (usually that isn't a compliment, but it is today), and thanks to him, I am getting served (and it doesn't even require me to "pop and lock").

So as I sit here in cubicle hell, all I can think about is that in five and a half hours I will be sitting with an overpriced bucket of popcorn, watching Spidey, Venom, and Sandman (and the "New Goblin". Normally that would give me he heebie-jeebies, but since it is in Sam Raimi's hands, I will go in open minded).

I will let you know if it is in fact as awesome as I hope and pray it will be either tomorrow or Friday. Probably.

BSR (Big Spiderman 3-going-to-see Ron. For today anyway)

BE CAREFUL! You might get pregnant on you!

THIS is why I need an outlet like this, for when shit like what just happened happens.

Jamaican Voodoo Queen (at thip point I can no longer keep the name straight, hopefully it will be close enough to the previous names for you to know who I am speaking of) was regaling WW and the Lurker (and because I was in earshot, me) with a description of a ream she had last night. It seems that the dream was heavy in the fish references, which to her (and the other 2) means that someone in her family is pregnant.

So any...wha-wha-WHAAAAAT?!?!?

Yup, the three of them are convinced that someone dreaming of fish means that someone else in the family is pregnant. I could have sworn that it meant that Big Pussy is dead.

But here is where it gets fun. I started laughing. I couldn't help it, that shit was funny to me. Well, WW and Lurker start talking about how their moms used to tell stories like that and yadda yadda yadda. Then WW says how whenever her mother would start talking about a dream like that, WW would make her mom stop talking because she didn't want to get pregnant too. THEN Lurker says, "yeah, that's contagious!"

Pregnancy is contagious. Now, maybe I had a really crappy Sex Ed. teacher, or I missed that day in class, but I could have sworn that wasn't how it worked. That would have to be one potent man to get a lady knocked up and have it wafting in the air to spread his seed. Maybe if the man is part dandelion it would work.

I need to do more research on this, but until I can come up with conclusive evidence one way or the other, I need to make sure all you ladies are extra careful. DON'T LET A PREGNANT LADY BREATHE ON YOU!!!!! Please.

This has been a BSR Public Service Announcement

Today's Mood Is...

Who don't like it?

The Ultimate Sacrifice

Those of you who have read this piece of self indulgence for any length of time know that Wifey and I are the Mr. and Mrs. Jack Sprat of room and body temperature. I am always warm, she is cold. Well, last night I came home from the 2nd job and was more than a tad overheated. It had been in the 80's almost the entire day, and while not humid, it was warm. Add to that the fact that I am not the skinniest guy on the planet (or in the average big and tall store. If you want to play a fun game, go into a big and tall store and see how long it takes for a tall guy to come in. I would tell you to pack a lunch, but you would be mauled by fat guys as soon as you opened the bag). In addition to all of that factor in that the required uniform for job 2 is a polyester security guard outfit, and we all know how well polyester breathes. So you could say I was on the warm side.

Because of that, when I got home and prepped for bed, I moved the blanket that I had been using to the laundry hamper and laid out for a nice restful night of sleep. I turned my fan on, as is my custom, and drifted off rather quickly, because I was exhausted.

It seems that at some point in the night I got cooled off and then some, because I apparently took one of Wifey's 17b blankets for myself. I do not recall doing this, but I do know that I woke up with a blanket on. It would be nice to think that Wifey woke up and saw that I had become cold during the night and covered me at great sacrifice to herself and her comfort. However, we know that is not the case because she told me multiple times that she was unhappy with me for stealing her blanket and blah blah blah. Not that I am unsympathetic to her "waking up freezing", since she was down to 16 blankets and a few bedsheets. But now I am aware of her suffering, and it has been acknowledged. So to Wifey I present the Ultimate Sacrifice Award for April 24th, 2007. Her allowing me to take a blanket from her while we were both unconscious is truly worthy of this award, as her herculean efforts to continue to sleep through the night with an internal blanket temperature of 137 degrees kelvin (it is usually 139) show the lengths she will go through to succor me.

I love you too honey.

BSR

PROTECTO!

I am currently on 3 different medications. All 3 of them (like all medications) have listed possible side effects. Luckily for me (and yes that was me being sarcastic), all 3 of the meds I am taking have a possible side effect of, to put it in a hopefully not-too-gross way...

Do you remember the side effects of Olestra? If you do, just imagine that all 3 mes are made of super concentrated Olestra. If you don't remember that wonderful invention, feel free to look it up or ask a friend (or look HERE)...

THAT is my current problem. So I have begun to notice things in places that I have been going for years but no longer have adequate reading material there with me with which to distract myself. For instance, here at the hospital, in the public stalls they have put seat protectors (or whatever the paper you are supposed to put on the seat so you can't get the herpers from the last guy who had to cop a squat. My understanding is that these things have been proven pretty much useless, but as long as people think they work, someone will provide them, even at the cost of a raise to needy and deserving employees. AHEM! Anyway...). For over 2 and 1/2 years I have been going into that bathroom whenever I needed to "recycle", and probably half of those visits required me to sit down and stay a while. Today, for the first time ever, while sitting and thumbing through the Sports Illustrated I have read 3 times already (if this issue is going to keep up, I am going to bring a book to work. A BIG one) I looked over at the wall mounted holder for these seat covers. Imprinted on the metal was one word...

PROTECTO

Which to me would be a really cool super hero or benevolent robot name. It could also be some bitchin' magic words like "Hocus Pocus" and stuff like that. It has all kinds of possibilities. Say it in that Hank Kingsley "Hercules" voice (if you go HERE and wait until 3:20 into the clip you will see what I mean) for the full effect.

I am not going to do any more posting today, so I leave you in the capable hands of...

PROTECTO!!!!!!!

Feel safe. Because you are safe.

LOOK OUT!!!!!!

GIANT BABY HEAD IS WATCHING YOUR EVERY MOVE! DO NOT ANGER GIANT BABY HEAD! DO NOT TRY TO RESIST GIANT BABY HEAD!

(please click on picture for full effect)

The Return of "An Old Friend" and other bits floating about

Yes, it is Monday and for the last 30 plus minutes Asian Mustard Lady has been down here regaling us with annoyance at a terror level of OMFG! (I prefer that to colors. If you want to refer to the guide to the right, we here in the basement are in "Elmo"). So far I have "learned" that if you eat sugary things (her words, not mine. I don't feel like putting all of the inanity in quotes. I am lazy that way sometimes) that the extra fat goes to your stomach. And by that she means that your body puts the extra calories you consume that it turns into fat reserves that it gets from sugary foods around your waist and abdomen. To this point she hasn't enlightened us with where the body puts any other type of food. If my rudimentary calculations are correct, I believe that pizza is stored in the ass (no pun intended. In fact, there is no way to get out of this spiral of entendres and general pain and suffering, so I am going to close this off and just move on to the next paragraph now).

I also have learned that because she had a cesarean her stomach/abdomen is deadened and she has no sensation there. Which to me is good news, since I am currently using every ounce of strength in my body to not get up and punch her. Now that I know that I can give her a good gut shot and she won't feel it, I feel much better about my inevitable loss of control.

Generally, it is just a cluck-fest. However, I am gladdened by WW and the Jamaican Voodoo Queen (I do not remember the name I gave her, but there is a story behind the current name that I will have to check to see if I actually posted or if I just thought I did), who have rebuked her twice for being loud and nosy. And now she has been called into a meeting, so there is blessed quiet again.

Last week I had an episode with one of the Big 3 here at el hospital-o. I had to go to the doctor's office to get a new and improved doctor's note to allow me to work from home part time. Fine, I can live with that. But when I went to turn it in, THAT is when the poopy hit the oscillating cooling device. She informed me that there were two big problems that were concerning them. One was that I was pretty much coming in for mornings until about noon to one then heading home to finish my workday. This meant that anyone calling me who was only available in the afternoons was unable to get ahold of me and this was forcing work on them. Well did any one of them ever think to bring this up to me? I could have easily worked from home in the morning sometimes and come in for the afternoon. But instead of coming to me with a concern, they just decided to rescind my work from home privileges. And that pales compared to the other problem they had. It seems that a major concern was that I could still work my part time job and so I must therefore be able to work full time in the office here. I was very upset with the whole thing, especially the way it was handled, or to be more exact NOT handled. I had some harsh-esque language for this particular boss. No cursing or evil enchantments. But it got me to thinking about the root cause of the problems. Now let me break this down.

• I am of two minds as to how this can even be a factor. On the one hand I can see how this would affect their views on my needs to work from home, but on the other hand, what business is it of theirs what I do when I am not being paid by them? My life outside of this place is no concern of theirs, and I do not appreciate the invasion of privacy.
• Again, they never bothered to bring this up to me as an issue. Perhaps I wouldn't feel as violated about this if the concern had been brought to my attention instead of just casually mentioning it to me after the fact.
• The shift here is (including lunch break) 8 and 1/2 hours. I would usually be in for about 4 and 1/2 to 5 and 1/2 hours before going home to work. Do you know how long my part time shift is? Including my meal break, it is about 5 and 1/2 hours. Hmmm...
• In here I work in a cubicle. There is no space for me to put my feet up to get them above my heart level (my doctor's requirement that I do as much as possible since I have about 15+ years of old blood and fluid backed up in my legs. Nasty, ain't it?) In order for me to follow my doctor's orders I need to be at home, unless they want to give me a nice sized private office that I can close the door to, since I have to check things on my legs when I have them elevated, and since my compression stockings come up to my knee, I often need to remove my pants to get them off (because just sitting in my cubicle for a few hours allows them to swell up quite a bit. Before the stockings it was a lot worse, but when I was at the doctor's last week I had to drop trou in order to allow him to look at my legs. And since I can't wear sweatpants here (another long story for another time), I will need some privacy if I am sitting there in my boxers. Otherwise there will be a riot of women stampeding through the hospital every afternoon. Granted they would be stampeding AWAY, but still, it would be dangerous).
• They never asked if my part time job also made accommodations for me and my chronic condition. Well, they did. My boss has allowed me extra breaks to go into the AP office and do camera surveillance while putting my feet and legs up on the desk. Also, he allows me to walk around the store (my job description is that I stand at the front door unless otherwise needed in the store), which my doctor has also recommended that I do.
• My part time job has never once asked me about my full time job and whether it was accommodating me. He just said "Tell me what you need to do". I did, and he told me what he could allow. We compromised. Like adults. We TALKED.
• If this cheap ass company would pay me what the going rate is for a job like this outside of the hospital, or if they would at least pay a living wage with a reasonable COLA (cost of living adjustment) after the yearly review/raise circus, I wouldn't have to work a second job, or I would at least be able to work less hours, which would mean I would be able to put more hours in here in the office and less at home. Another way to solve the problem.

Okay, I feel better now.

I mentioned Wifey's cries of "Daniel" in the previous post. I asked her about it and she claims to know of no Daniels except for someone on Stargate (be it the actor's name or the character's name is beyond the scope of my knowledge). I am not satisfied with this answer, so I am still asking for assistance if at all possible. Also, after I turned off the computer and tried to rouse Wifey for to come downstairs for to go to bed (I like saying "for to". I have no idea why, I just do), she started off by telling me she was very upset that they released the software, and asked me how they could do something like that.

Again, no fricking idea what that means. Not. A. Clue. And when I asked her about it, Wifey said she had no idea either. So I once again leave it in your capable hands. Because of my schedule, many of you spend more conscious time with Wifey than I do (yeah I sleep in the same bed as her, but I am usually too busy passing out to delve deeply into her subconscious), so please do some digging and let me know what you come up with.

A quick suggestion: If your spouse is in the next room choking, and you have no idea because she has been coughing/vomiting lately and the two things sound very similar and she (or he) don't give you any indication that she is choking, once they are breathing normally again (without any help from you, thank you very much) and they tell you that they were choking, your first response should not be "Why didn't you say something", whether you are joking or just an idiot asking a serious question.

A quick confession: I am sometimes an idiot asking a serious question.

It is 1PM, and I need to go grab some lunch. Let's hope that the last few days are the beginning of a flurry of posts again.

BSR

And the wind cried Daniel

It is a little past midnight on a Saturday (why do I feel like I am starting to write a Billy Joel song?), and I am sitting at the computer after getting home recently from Target. My feet are killing me. I just planned on going through my email and then going downstairs and taking a shower and going to bed. Because Wifey has a tummy ache (she had a nasty stomach virus a couple of weeks ago and she is still feeling a few aftershocks from this), our plans for the evening were shelved (I really hope I don't need to get any cleared on that for you. If I do, well, go to your parents and tell them that it is time for "The Talk". They will know what that means. Quick side note - this might end up being the longest parenthetical reference in the history of mankind - I remember the exact moment that my parents and I had "The Talk". It was winter and I was 13 or 14. It had snowed the night before and my father woke me up to help him shovel the driveway. I went out w/out gloves, so unbeknownst to me my mother went up to my room to locate them for me. If you have ever seen the room of a 14 year old boy, you know that this would be no easy task. About 15 minutes into it, my mother called my father into the house. About 2 minutes after that, my father returned and with a look in his eyes that I could not at the time decipher, told me to go inside to my room because my mother needed to talk to me. I went in and my mother was sitting on my bed - how she found my bed is still a mystery. I used to find a soft pile and curl up feral style - and next to her were two magazines I had bought off of a friend of mine who stole them from his older brother. Just in case you don't already see where this is going, they weren't Sports Illustrated. It seems that my mother thought that my gloves would be under my bed, an area that had not seen the light of day since the Carter Administration. Instead of finding my gloves, she found my nascent porn collection. She asked me to sit next to her - probably the most uncomfortable thing that I had ever done up to that point in my life. Now that I have a mortgage and all those other various and sundry bills I do more uncomfortable things than that almost every day just to make enough money to pay the damn things - and she told me that a man and a woman making love is a very beautiful thing and...well, at that point I pretty much shut down and stared at her, nodding whenever I realized she had stopped speaking. But I DID learn a very valuable lesson that day. Never hide your porn under your bed. Later on I learned that you shouldn't hide it under the sofa in the living room, but that particular hiding place was more necessity when I heard the car pulling into the driveway than any kind of thought out plan. Later still I learned that in between the mattress and box spring is a very good place, provided you either put it far enough back that it isn't accidentally discovered when someone comes into your room to take the sheets off of the bed that they had been clamoring for for over a week and then they decide to put fresh sheets on the bed, even though you are 16 and should be doing this your damn self by now, or you remember to move it to a more secure location when your parents are having carpeting put into the house and the installers have to move your bed to do it. Whoops! Anyway, I planned on having the sex with my wife tonight. There, happy now?)

Wow, that WAS a long one (I know, that's what SHE said. I'll be here all week. Thank you. Try the veal). That may have been longer than an entire chapter of any randomly selected Dan Brown novel. Judges? Apparently I do get the "longer than a Dan Brown chapter", but I failed on the longest parenthetical. It seems that Faulkner was a real bitch about those things. Oh well.

So (trying in vain to find a segue back to the original topic and failing miserably, I go with "So"), Wifey is asleep on the couch with the new dog (which I will have to tell you about another time), and I am sitting at the computer reading my email. Wifey is not feeling well, so she has a blanket on and a space heater aimed right at her (sometimes I think her blood just doesn't go all the way to the skin). As I sit here composing an email to an old friend, what do I hear but Wifey calling out. It has that sleepy tone that can sound almost frantic. And what does she call out, you ask? She calls out "Daniel". 3 times.

I am at a loss as to what to think of this. It could be completely innocent. I could be competing with a Baldwin brother. Since she is still asleep, I really have no idea at this point. And it could have been much worse. She could have been doing it while we were completing our original plan for the evening. That might have caused a system malfunction on my end. But until I can better ascertain what this might mean and find out who the hell this "Daniel" is so I know exactly who's ass I am going to have to kick, I am going to have to rely on you, my dear readers, to tell me if you know any Daniels she might have in her history. Ronnettes, if there is some hunky guy working at the office that you all watch like you are in a Diet Coke commercial please let me know, because if she is thinking about some UPS guy while I am taking care of business, I am going to have to start thinking of someone else too (any volunteers? Volunteers w/a vajeen and no bait and tackle please).

Do you think there could be a vable presidential candidate with the words "Justifiable Homicide" on their resume?

BSR

Sad Kermit - Hurt

holy crap. Really, that is all I can say about this.

I have my indifference to keep me warm

Two days ago I debated turning on the A/C in the car on the drive from job A to job B. Today it was actually below freezing when I got in the car this morning. The prediction I saw for Easter Sunday is for the high to be below freezing. I am convinced that within ten years we will have 80 degrees on Christmas and snow on the 4th of July. It is going to happen.

So I am in what I believe is week 3 of the many headed Hydra that is hospital management. Yup, 3 bosses, no waiting. The whole thing has me so nonplussed that at this point I am just trying to outlast it. That, and sending out resumes like I am a non-profit organization doing a fund drive. Currently I am running a 433 page report (this is not the GOOD part of it being Good Friday, that is for sure). I started the report at 10:44:08 AM. Currently it is on page 284. It is 1:34:?? PM. Thank GOD they gave me this printer on my desk, you know the kind, it prints at approximately 1/5 the speed of your average office printer. I have to be at job B at 5 tonight. I am beginning to think that I won't even be close to making it.

Speaking of job B, I still have not been interviewed for the new position that I was told to apply for. I was told that it would be this week, but as of yet it hasn't happened. And since Easter weekend is the second busiest weekend of the year (just behind Black Friday, the start of Christmas Season), I am not expecting that they will want to pull me from the front doors tonight or tomorrow in order to ask me about a time that I faced adversity on the job and what I did to overcome it (and all the rest of the bullshit HR questions that you get asked at every interview. Who the hell thought these damn things up and are they burning in a special level of Hell as they should be? Right next to the guy who invented the pay toilet. THAT sumbitch BETTER be on fire right now). I can only hope that this position will pay enough for me to only work one job and that if it does that I get it.

I had a post in mind for earlier in the week, but I got very sidetracked by the jobs and generally just trying to play catch-up (it didn't work. I am still WAY behind here). Now it almost seems like I shouldn't post it, because of the aforementioned change in weather. However, I feel the need to put this on the public record, and so I shall.

And I quote (from my own fevered brain):

Springtime is finally here. Spring is the time of renewal and rebirth. Flowers bloom and baby animals are birthed (and occasionally eaten by their mothers. Viva la evolution!). All throughout the world you see the Circle of Life (used without express written consent of Walt Disney Inc. I am SO living on the edge) in action. And this brings me to what is probably my favorite thing about Spring.

(I would probably rate the rest of this as PG-13. I cannot see where it would be NSFW, but it is as racy as a conversation amongst 7th graders at the bus stop)

Yes, once again the titties are blooming. After being locked away under big bulky coats and heavy sweaters for months on end, the sun has warmed our little corner of the globe, and brought with it thin cotton tank tops and sports bras worn as outer accoutrement's. Over sized sweatshirts are replaced with tight t-shirts that expose just a bit of midriff (and am I the only guy who finds the combo of 3/4 shirt with the pants where they roll the waist over a couple of times, like how we used to cuff our pants that way that would make them tight against the ankles, so damn hot? It is almost as hot as when a woman is wearing a man's dress shirt and possibly nothing else. The dress shirt ALWAYS seems to come right down to about where a micro miniskirt would be. You can't tell if hey have on any underbritches, and they are wearing no socks or stockings and no shoes. Damn that is hot! Also, a quick reminder to Wifey. My birthday is in 3 days. I have dress shirts. It is either that or you locate a nurse/Catholic school girl (why is that so hot too? It seems wrong, but every guy I know goes apeshit over it)/Princess Leia in chains outfit. I hope you understand the severity of the situation here. Wow, this was a long sidebar, even for me). Yes, at Target it is time to set the titties free wherever you happen to look.

I need to make it clear that 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year, I love tittie. Specifically I love Wifey's titties. However, just as she can have mini vagi-quakes over the Supernatural boys or Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies (she says it was because she had been sick and had not had chocolate for a long time. I think she is a cookie lesbian), I can spend time that I am getting paid to stand and watch people to see if they could be member of the Future Felons Club checking out the Tittie Parade. And since we are the centrally located and closest Target for Towson University, Loyola College, Goucher College, Morgan State and Coppin State we usually have quite the smorgasbord of visual stimulants. Whatever you are into, odds are if you stand at the door for 15 minutes you will be able to see it. So I am calling myself out as a "looking but not touching" club member, with all ancillary rights and privileges.

By the way, if any of you have a nice soft comfy couch that I can sleep on, I might be visiting you soon. Like 5 minutes after Wifey reads this. I am an excellent cook.

So yes, I am going to Target tonight, and once again it will be parkas and cable knits. That is okay. Some flowers bloom with the first thaw, then die with the re-freeze. But they always come back again when the next thaw hits. And sooner or later, the thaw sticks.

I was making a point earlier about my love of tittie all the time. Why then would now be special? Let me explain it this way. Every year when the new version of Madden comes out there will be people camping out to make sure they get their copy, and calling in sick to work the next day so that they can spend all day playing it. After a few months, the shelves are re-stocked, and while it is a good seller and still an awesome game, it isn't impossible to find. Titties are like Madden. They have been away from us for a long time. Sure we might have a copy in the house, and if given the chance we would play it EVERY day (and I mean that honey. EVERY DAY. You just say when). Very few of us have more than one copy to play (and those are the guys who get to write those letters to Penthouse). But every year, even if you don't have a game system, you get to see the newest game unveiled. And even though the changes are only cosmetic (there is a metaphor there I think), you still cannot wait to see it.

2:20:?? PM. Page 368. I am going to start crying soon.

So anyway, I am going to wrap this up. I hope you enjoy the above video. Happy Easter everybody, and I hope everyone who reads this got the invite to my big berfday party next Friday night. If you didn't and you read this and you aren't a big doody-faced jerk, come on by!

I guess you would also have to know where I live or have some way other than a blog's comment page to contact me. If not, well, I still like you and all, but not in that way. That "come in my house and stand near my stuff unattended" kind of way. You understand, right?

BSR

A Quick and Dirty Hit

It is Monday, and I felt the need to begin with some pirates and space bears (not to mention wacky robots and the skeleton of a dwarf). The wolf and the space ships shaped like derby hats (or acorns, I cannot decide) are also a nice touch.

I am not in the best of moods. Day job is pissing me off lately (I am tempted to just have a gigantic bitch session, but it would feel a little much like self centered whining, and even I have my limits when it comes to begging for pity, no matter what Wifey says. If it keeps up, prepare yourself for "The Whining"), and I have an ear infection right after kicking a cold. I am taking antibiotics so strong that I can actually taste the color blue. But (and it is the ability to notice things like this that is both my blessing and my curse) I am beginning to get worried about the possible side effects of this current medication. It seems that this medication may decrease the effectiveness of some birth control pills. I was supposed to ask my doctor or pharmacist for more information, but I neglected to notice this oh-s0-vital warning in time before I left the pharmacy the other day. Now that is bad enough news, especially since Wifey and I are not planning on having a child in the next 9-10 months or so. We will have to be careful because apparently my doctor or pharmacist believes that I am on "The Pill". And if that weren't bad enough, I am now at an increased risk for yeast infections! I need to be wary of any vaginal itching or discharge!

If I start to suffer from any vaginal itching or discharge, a yeast infection is the LEAST of my worries, don't you think?

A Special Christmas

The one I put up has apparently been removed. And I need to keep this alive.

Here we go again (again)

Yes it has been a few weeks. One day shy of three to be exact. I have been sick, Wifey is sick right now, and the BCF (Baltimore Comedy Festival) is in less than 2 weeks. Plus there are those pesky two jobs to deal with. So I have been a little bit busier than usual. But I shall strive to fill you in on all the pertinent info. Let me bullet point it so that I can disseminate the information to you faster and then move on to topics that require more detail.

• A hearty congratulations to Target who decided to wait until a week after the release of the DVD of Borat to get some ancillary merchandise in (2 shirts, neither one seemingly of very high quality). Both have the character of Borat on them. One says "Nice", the other "High Five". Way to stay on top of the trends Target!


• I have been married to Wifey for almost a year and a half, and have been in a relationship with her for over 5 years. Until this week, I never knew that when she was sick that everything smelled like fried chicken to her. I find that to be an awesome side effect of being sick, and fervently wish for it to be contagious. Also, I can only pray that our children are similarly blessed. Imagine the agony of being sick being muted by having everything you come in contact with smell like you are in Popeye's. How cool would that be?


• This morning on the drive in I was at a stop light and looked at the traffic waiting to come in the other direction. I saw 5 dump trucks in a row, all waiting out the light like me. To the vast majority of the population that would be completely innocent, but to me it was immediately a group of German terrorists smuggling gold, and it took every ounce of strength in my still half asleep, no coffee yet this morning body to not jump out of my car (or as close as I ever get to jumping out of anything), scream "Chester A. Arthur!" as my battle cry, and pull one of those guys (yes, I am assuming that the dump truck drivers were men. Woe to the gender-specific job profiler!) out of the cab and search him for a bundle of 10 quarters. Why my brain makes these kinds of connections (and rather quickly considering the time and the complete lack of artificial stimulation coursing through me) is one of those things that is either one of those things that draws you to me or makes you not want to invite me over to the house without first locking up all the soup spoons for fear that I will bend them Uri Gellar style.


• I have it on good authority that there is no Rule 6.


• I found a couple of old tapes that I made for a show I directed and have spent the last couple of days of commuting time listening to them. I would like to editorialize my opinions of these tapes, but I feel I cannot objectively opine on their meaning or whatever window into my psyche they may reveal. But they have been great fun for me, and I get the feeling that I will be avoiding radio for a while so I can listen to them a few more times.


• JabberJaws is back from a 2 week vacation. I entered my personal Cubicle Death Row to her sitting at her desk mumbling about the numbers she was entering into the system. It was just me and her. It was the longest 20 minutes of my recent life. I put on the Stevie Wonder, The Definitive Collection CD and tried to drown her out of my head. So far I have been unsuccessful, but the Lurker and Wonder Woman have joined me here and that has lessened the blow. Now she is grumbling something about old music. Since I have no idea how old the old bat is, I can only assume that to her, old music is fife and drum and that this "rock and or roll" (and possibly "jigaboo" music as I have heard the old guard refer to it) is as annoying to her as my Metallica albums were to my parents all those years ago (I knew to keep my NWA tapes only on headphones. They could handle loud guitar and screaming, but I don't think they were ready for the revolution)


• Finally, I need to tell the Ronnettes (and by extension Wifey) that my bid for President has very little overall to do with whether or not I do in fact take off my shirt and fulfill the prophecy of my blog's name or if it will just continue to be a vaguely identifiable reference to The Simpsons that only geeks like me and Larry the Upstairs Neighbor and I (and also my good friend C3PO the translator lawyer) get. The fact that the original email by one of the Ronnettes said that she would vote for me only if I did remove my shirt has evolved into a thread worthy of X-Files-o-philes (which I REALLY hope is the name for big fans of the show, because that would be awesome!) of bantering back and forth, with Wifey (seemingly) getting jealous. Of course, Wifey had to work into the thread a reference and picture of the 2 guys from Supernatural. Because, as I am sure you remember, "that show is made of awesome". And this week, for some reason, it smells like fried chicken.

Let me share the transcript of this thread with you (the names are removed to "protect" the "innocent"...

You’ll get our vote if we can finally see you shirtless!!!! J

I second that motion

All you hussies need to back off!

What’s the problem? I say if he doesn’t do
it, that’s false advertising!

Indeed

Again.
Whatever.
Some more.
Wenches

Hater!!!!! J

You’re psychosis is frightening

Ha hahaha hahaha Ha

Watch out, [name deleted]! I hear a demonic laugh! You might want to get your
sword and salt ready!

I know! I’m just going to have to call the hottest demon hunters ever to
help: [this is where the picture was]

What we? You have ulterior motives missy

That is where it ends. So now let me make a few points on this.

• I fail to see how demon hunters and TV shows that make Wifey moist and me somewhat pointless in her life (as long as she as them to fantasize over, along with her Sean Bean guy, I am basically window dressing with an extra limb if you catch my drift) have to do with my being the leader of the free world.


• It really wouldn't be false advertising unless I was actually elected. Big Shirtless Ron is just a name of a site. I never made a claim that I was the Ron in question. Yes it might be implied, but it is not implicitly me. And even so, I never make a claim as to WHEN I am shirtless. I could be shirtless right now (and wouldn't THAT be a fun way to freak out JJ. Hell, now I'm tempted to sit here and do my work in my boxers just to see what would happen. But I won't). I could be shirtless in my home (which I am quite frequently). But I will make this pledge right now. If I am in fact elected, I WILL give every supporter who requests it a signed 8x10 glossy of me posing completely shirtless (if you vote twice I might be bottomless too. With three, you get egg roll).


• I really don't have a third point, but I said I was going to make a few points, and at this point I had only made 2. Since it is universally accepted that 2 is a couple and 3 is a few, I felt the need to make a third point here, even if that point is just making the point that I have no actual third point.

See how Presidential I am? Not only did I keep my word by making three points, I used enough circular reasoning/double speak to confound the average person, thereby ensuring that I can package my words can be packaged any number of ways in order to either confirm or deny whatever platform I am currently supporting or railing against depending on the special interest group that is trying to buy my vote with their $500 plate fund raiser. I hope you are listening Order of the Blind Left-Handed Dentists with Tourettes Syndrome. Get that rubbery chicken and those waxy green beans on those plates and let's get a move on here. I need campaign coffers and a battle/war chest. Those are the things hey always mention on CNN and Face the Nation as the candidate's best friend.

Also, my old college buddy Middle Name Morgan sent me a link to the guns and dope party, urging me to affiliate with a party for all of the benefits that it entails. I will consider it, and I do like a lot of their platform policies. However, their reliance on ostriches is a little disturbing. Check it for yourself...

My Dear Friend,

I support your decision to run for
Commander-in-Chief. However, although running as an independent has both its
advantages and allure, having the backing of an actual political party may add
dignity and, if I may, a sense of gravitas. A suggestion: http://www.maybelogic.com/gunsanddopeparty/

I am going to take his sage advice and continue to make myself available for any party that wants to contact me in order to have me run with them as my backer. Until that time I will stay independent and will act accordingly.

I really need to get back to work now. Have and excellent weekend (I know it is only Wednesday, but I also know that odds are I will not be back online until next week. But before I go, one final thought. I was (and still am, although I can't afford it like I could in middle school and high school) a comic book geek. Due to the aforementioned lack of finances, I do not collect regularly anymore. I rely on Larry the Upstairs Neighbor for all the good stuff, and I read Wizard magazine pretty much every month. So I am not over informed on the latest Marvel MEGA CROSSOVER EVENT OF THE MILLENNIUM, Civil War. I know a good bit about it from my sources, but that is as far as it goes. So I really had no idea that they were going to kill off Captain America, and even if I know for a fact that they will retcon (comic geek talk for using a new story to go back and rewrite what happened, kind of a mea culpa, 4 color deus ex machina literary device) or just straight out deny the finality of the move with some convoluted explanation, I am still bothered by the death of ol' Cap. So I particularly liked this picture I saw (I hope this posts. You who are old friends of this thing know that me and picture posting don't always get along). Goodbye for now my little minions.

Quick and dirty addition. Blogger decided to post the picture up top. So now you went through this long ass post and now finally understand what the hell it is supposed to mean. Don't you feel complete now? I know I do.

BSR

And so the masses speak!

It has been all of 2 or 3 days since my big announcement, and already I have a volunteer to be my personal Secret Service escort (although if Fineous won't block the occasional Wifey forehead flick I don't know if I trust him to jump in front of a bullet for me. I might have to make him the Secretary of SNIP! btw - that's an inside joke, don't even try to figure it out), and I have 2 votes, but they are qualified with special requests. Now I have plans to be the President who finally stands up to special interest groups and stops the pandering to the lobbyists. However, in the interest of fairness I feel I must share the requests of my first official supporters, who I expect to see on the campaign trail any moment now. Spread the word my pretties, spread it!

First comment... You’ll get our vote if we can finally see you shirtless!!!!

and the second... I second that motion

Well ladies, first of all you will have to clear that with the First Wifey. Secondly, while I have no intention of making this a habit, if I do in fact win the election, I will pose for you with as few clothes as you wish. I might even have some glossies printed up.

Speaking of Wifey's role in the administration (and if we weren't speaking of it, we are now dangit!), she is openly campaigning for Secretary of Defense of Head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. To those requests I have unequivocally said "no". Anyone who knows Wifey knows how dangerous she is unarmed, or armed with only a butter knife of plastic spoon and her always with her propensity for accidental carnage. If you think I am going to let her be anywhere near the football you are crazier than I thought you were, whoever the hell you are (yes, I think you are all crazy. Even YOU). That being said, why even become President if you don't get to be all nepotistic and crony-ish (I don't know if they are words, but if they aren't I will decree them to be after the nomination. Kneel before Mirriam Webster, son of Jor-El!), so I will gladly accept any and all requests for official positions in my Cabinet or for any other appointments. However, in order for your request to be accepted, you must give me valid reason why you should have this position. And if this reason is presented in Haiku style, all the better.

As far as the positions go, pretty much all of them are open and available. The only one that anyone might have dibs on is Ed Norris (the former commissioner, not the local actor made good) for Secretary of Defense. He has no idea that I am planning on appointing him, and I would have to issue an executive pardon first, but I would probably need at least one person I haven't yet been drunk with or slept with (or in a few cases both) in an advisory position. And since he is (from what I have heard on the radio) one of the most rationally positive thinkers I am aware of, I wouldn't mind having him bending my ear. Besides, I figure he could clean up a lot of the bullshit currently blocking up the system.

Okay, I await more responses now, and am eager to hear questions regarding policy. Remember, the email to contact me is bigshirtlesspresident@gmail.com . All emails will be answered.

Join me next week for the running diary of the class I was sent to by my day job. 7 hour class, I lasted all of 70 minutes. As soon as the first break hit I rolled out and had a delicious, reasonably priced meal at Cracker Barrel. But until then, take care my pets, and let's keep moving all the way to Washington!

BSR in 2008