I ain't doing it again right now

I was just typing up a post. It was a decent length, and was going fairly well. I was about 5 minutes from being complete when I got one of those "...has encountered a problem and must shut down. Send error report or don't send".

Stoopid internet explorer. I can't go downloading firefox here, I am stuck with what I have. And now I do not have the time to re-enter everything. Maybe later today, or maybe tomorrow. So sorry for the complete lack of explanation after promising it in that post right above this one. Blame it on the 'net.

Yeah, ye-aaa-aa-ah

Blame it on the stars that don't sine at night

Whatever you do, don't put the blame on you.

Blame it on the 'net...

Why the hell is that still accessible in my head, but the shit I learned in school that has real import, or at least historical significance is gone forever. Forget blaming it on the 'net. Blame it on the Miller Lite.

BSR

News from the front lines

Okay, there is no real order here, but there are a few things I need to get off of my chest...



1. Unless I can find some other connection that explains it, it seems apparent to me that eating anything more than a small handful of original flavor SunChips (tm) gives me gas. Lots of it. I'm pretty sure that I could have eased the energy crunch if I had released them responsibly (instead of trying to gas out random coworkers, and later the dog, just to amuse myself. However, after I beef-faced the dog her tail was still wagging like crazy, so she must enjoy the processed whole grains of SunChips (tm) after they had been utilized for food by my oh-so-efficient metabolism).



2. For those of you who don't live in the great state of Mary "At least we're not as liberal as Massachusetts, those jackasses!" land, we got a lot of rain yesterday. It was much needed, and we will take all that we can get. However, I have to think that unless you have lived in the middle of the Sahara for your entire life you are aware of what rain is, and have seen it before. And yes, I know there were periods of heavy rain, but still, the incredulous looks on people's faces last night at Bullseye Incorporated when they walked out the doors and saw WATER FALLING FROM THE SKY!!!!!!11!!!!!oneone!!



You jackasses. It's R A I N. You don't need to stand there with your gaping maw staring up at the sky and wondering how come you are suddenly wet when you aren't at the beach or in the shower. You don't have to tell everyone around you that it is raining. They can see it too. And you REALLY don't have to grab your cell phone and call your neighbor to tell THEM it is raining. They live three block away. They are getting rained on, too. You slack jawed yokels are wasting the precious oxygen that those of with functioning cerebral cortexes (cortexi? How often does one need to pluralize "cortex") need in order to continue living and evolving within the contexts of our environments.



3. Got a new reader (or at least a new commenter. Say hello to God's Girl y'all! Remember, the revolution will NOT be televised, but it will be commented on by a bunch of snarky know-it-alls who think that their opinions on world events and the happenings in their own backyard are valid and worth sharing with the world. And even worse, that the world wants to hear these inane ramblings. And yes, before you say it, I AM looking in the mirror.

Okay, I need to truncate this. Part of it got cut off by the computer dropping out on me (next post), but enough was saved to salvage the post, so ignore the "maybe later", coz here it is!


Gotta run. There be monsters about that I has to get to slayin!

BSR

Today's Mood Is...

Yes, it has been a long week. Wifey and I had a bit of a disagreement (and if you want to know how "a bit", ask the door to our part of the house). I know that all of my married friends warned me that for the first couple of years that the odds were if we were going to fight it would be over money, but that didn't make it any more fun. I did learn one very valuable lesson (besides don't let Wifey try to repair a broken off the hinges door while she is upset, because when she shakes the large screwdriver in your face while yelling at you, you can honestly see your life flash before your eyes), and that is do not eat a big meal on a hot day then get into a rather vociferous argument with your spouse unless you want to lose weight the old fashioned way. By power vomiting in the public restroom of the local SuperFresh (almost everywhere BUT in the toilet. It was like the pie eating scene in "Stand By Me"). And I have been having a bad time with some medical concerns of my own. Nothing serious, but enough to be annoying and distract me from the stuff I need to do. But none of that has anything to do with the picture. So what does the picture mean?

Last night was a long, busy night. Momm-o-in-law had her regularly scheduled physical therapy, but to add fuel to the fire, she was having problems w/back pain and her legs. So she stayed home from work yesterday, and Wifey asked me to take her to PT and then to her doctor's appointment. No problem. Wifey planned on going to the grocery store to shop for us and for her mom after work. Again, no problem. She wound up leaving work sometime around 7PM and meeting me in front of the doctor's office to get her mom's list. So far, long but no major issues, right? Well, all is well until around 10:30PM when the phone rings...

Wifey had been in a car accident. Nothing major, no injuries (and that is the most important thing). But there is some cosmetic damage to the car. And now we find out that the jackass that hit her has no insurance, and that the insurance of the car's owner (which of course isn't the jackass that was driving) is contesting the claim. Stupid fucking lizard insurance. We didn't get our toasted muffin with butter and jam either. I feel ripped off.

Other than that things are copacetic. Our friends the Lithuanian Wonder and Irish Pride (who are getting married in about a month) are coming over tonight. You see, Wifey is going to be in the wedding party, and I am going to be the officiant. I probably have mentioned this before, but I got ordained online and am now legally authorized to join people in holy matrimony. So they are coming over for to discuss the wedding. I am going to have to make sure that the wedding is videotaped so that I can post the highlights.

Heh heh heh heh heh.

Big Shirtless (Reverend) Ron

Love Me Undergarments

Nobody could wear a bra on their head like the King. 30 years later, no one can touch him (and not just because he is 6 feet under).

30 Years Ago today...

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Duct Tape Bandit

Oh, why can't someone like this come in to Target? I never get the fun criminals.

Today's Mood Is...

Another night of borderline insomnia, another double between the two jobs, my legs are hurting and swollen, a Wifey home sick, a dog that has no concept of personal space...

bitch whine moan my life is SOOOOOOOO horrible.

At least I have my pity to keep me warm. Of course, staying warm is NOT the problem the last week or so. Maybe I can move in to the walk in cooler at the local 7-11. I am willing to restock for them for free if they let me bunk there.

Breakin' and Poppin' and Totally AWESOME!

This is officially number 1 on my Christmas list.

Start shopping now Ronettes.

I can be hypocritical if I wanna be!

So after railing about how I will overcome the heat and humidity and wait for it to break this weekend, and I won't succumb to those BGE bastards, I come home last night and Wifey has the A/C on (of course, she isn't feeling well, so I am not going to begrudge her some comfort just to save a few bucks). I go downstairs to hop in the shower and prepare for bed, and next thing you know I am setting up the A/C for the basement in the window and turning it on HIGH. Maybe coming into a house that wasn't the equivalent of a room prepped for Bikram Yoga weakened my steely resolve (I wish that I could pin it on trying to make sleep time more comfortable for Wifey, but when I went downstairs I didn't know she wasn't feeling well. It is that kind of not feeling well. I shan't elaborate). Whatever the reason, I got out of bed this morning not covered in a sheen of sweat for the first time in a few weeks, and it was everything that I could have possibly hoped for. And since the basement has the requisite "Livin' In The City" bars on them, last year we got one of those portable A/C units that you put the exhaust hoses into a window and therefore have some flexibility as to where you place your technological advance in human comfort. And it doubles as a dehumidifier, so not only was the sleep (or at least the laying in the bed, as the insomnia has just been documented) cooler, but it no longer felt like I was lying in a mist tent of pain and suffering (they had them at the Virgin Festival this year, at least that is what I heard. I am officially too old to go to weekend festivals when the temperature + humidity = Satan needs a Slurpee. It just isn't right. I would think that there is some international law against it. Maybe I should look into those Geneva Conference transcripts. I bet THOSE are a fun read.

I just got distracted by work, and this has been sitting here untouched for almost 2 hours. Gonna go now.

Today's Mood Is...

It is so damn hot that even my DIGITAL clocks are melting. But it is only intensifying my fight with those bastard electric company bastards (redundancy in describing their bastardness is not overkill, tyvm). I am fighting turning on the A/C with ALL of my might. 5 fans running is still less than half the cost of running the air. And on the plus side, I am losing weight like crazy. Even if it IS all coming out of my forehead, you take what you can get at this point.

Make sure you check out the music video I told you about before. It has been up for a week, but like a putz, I completely forgot to post it. Well that is no longer the case. Like Jell=o, watch it wiggle, watch it jiggle!

Politics in Action

Whatever your political affiliation, THIS is funny. But in order to be fair (as required by the FCC Equal Opportunity in Bullshitting the Public Act) I must also say this...

CHAPPAQUIDICK!!!!!

And So I Will Dance For Thee

I have been remiss in posting this. My deepest apologies to all. Now, I have to get back to the fairyland...

Today's Mood Is...

I has the power to kill a yak from 300 yards away.

Wif MINDBULLETS!!!!!!!

BSR

I ate what?

I decided to give ol' shorschitt a gander and see how she was doing. Apparently Friday morning was an oatmeal and iced tea morning (the thought of drinking iced tea first thing in the morning makes me feel a little queasy. Yet I will drink hot tea right off and have absolutely no issue with it. Is it me, or do you feel the same way? Or am I being a beverage snob/freak?). She said she would rather be having eggs and bacon (now THAT is a breakfast I could eat every day of my life. If only Wifey would leave me some bacon. You can ask Larry the Upstairs Neighbor about that, he'll back me. When we make breakfast - usually on the weekend - and we are making bacon, we have to make 2 pounds of it because between her propensity to pile it on her plate and her need to make kamikaze runs into the kitchen while we are cooking in order to grab a couple of strips while cackling like a madwoman and shrieking "Bacon!! ALL FOR ME!!!!!!!!", we can go through some cured pork around here). But then she listed some other foods she would rather be eating. And here is the list...

Cucumber Kimchee

Turkisk Pebers

Li Hing Mui

Arare

Chichidango

Manju

Ika

I know exactly three of the words on that list. And one of them my father used to use as a euphemism for "shit" (he liked to say that someone was in deep kimchee. For that reason alone I will never be able to eat kimchee. Word association culinary edition is a bitch). Also, I am pretty sure that the third to last word is one of those Himilayan words used to describe the Yeti. And if it isn't, it should be.

I am going to keep checking out shorty's blog. If nothing else, I am going to learn some bitchin' new words.

BSR

It puts the lotion on its skin...

How come I never had neighbors like this? (thanks to www.fark.com for the link)

http://www.denverpost.com/lifestyles/ci_6544653

Also, while my opinion may change when I am a father, all I can think is that Dad is being a real dick. Hell, if I was him, I would be outside playing baseball with my kids EVERY DAMN DAY OF MY LIFE!

Today's Mood Is...

Well, would you?

And so my minions grow

Soon my readership will reach double digits, and then the world will HAVE to acknowledge my brilliance! It seems that someone was randomly clicking on the "next blog" tab when the Blogger Lotto spit my page out. Of course Shorty immediately recognized my witty, urbane view of life as required reading (I hope to one day replace The Catcher in the Rye for "that book that your cool English teacher gave you to read that your parents and the establishment don't want you to". Of course, that means I would need to be collected into book form. Hey HarperCollins, you out there?). So welcome Shorty to the fold, and let's see how she does with her explorations of self flagellation. I know mine have brought you to me, and really, what else could I ask for.

http://shortschitt.blogspot.com/

I have a list of other things to ask for if anyone wants to know.

Not that you aren't important to me. Not at all. I am just a greedy bastard.

BSR

Today's Mood Is...

SKITTLES!

I have finally found my Sean Bean

I love Wifey. I would hope that this is known and completely understood. I know that Wifey loves me. Hell, at this point she would have to. However, she does like to rail on about how incredibly hot Sean Bean is (if you don't know who he is, look him up yourself. I have no desire to post beefcake pics of my wife's moist-inducing obsession). Now I do have subscriptions to Maxim and Stuff (and had one to FHM before it went teat's up. Pun intended), but the pictures of scantily clad women is really more of a pleasant bonus to the magazines themselves to me. If I was 14, maybe those pics would be enough, but as a 34 year old with access to the internet, suggestive just doesn't get a rise out of me (pun intended again). She has occasionally given me a little good natured grief over these magazines, but nothing much comes of it (no pun there you dirty minded little monkeys). Besides, while I have never dug deep into the recesses of Elle, or whatever that catalog sized magazine is that she gets every month, but I know that all of those women's magazines have those shirtless guys that is somehow supposed to sell feminine hygiene products and so forth. And I don't care.

But her obsession over Sean Bean (and the way she says his name every time she is given a cause to think of him or see him on TV) drives me crazy sometimes. Even my Angelina Jolie (before she got knocked up by Brad Pitt to make what will undoubtedly be the world's most perfectly beautiful baby that will probably wind up being the Anti-Christ because it is going to have immeasurable good looks and charm, and nothing that perfect can be anything but evil) obsession never reached 1/3 her obsession over Sean Bean. I had resigned myself to a life of being the guy she shares coitus with while she dreams of Sean Bean (I have to keep typing his full name, because if I just type "Bean, it brings to mind images of Rowan Atkinson, and I am fairly confident that no one in recorded history has ever had an erotic thought about Rowan Atkinson. At least I hope not) once she gets tired of my "O-Face", and I was okay with that. And it isn't like I was out there hunting for my own celebrity to crush on. But I came across (NO PUN! YOU SICK BASTARDS!) this pic and realized that I could stare at it for at least 3 weeks straight. So I am going to claim her for my own, like Wifey did with Beany (does that work? Are there any famous Beanys that would make you think of them in lieu of the Seanster? Let me know).

Mmmmmmm, Johannson........

BSR

Today's Mood Is...

There are so many things to love about this picture. It ranks up there with the Joker messing with the kid's report card for all time awesomeness in comics. Prove me wrong if you can.

BSR

And just to prove it...

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.

Your votes, please?

BSR

Something I forgot yesterday

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.

Don't say that you haven't been warned.

BSR

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.