suavely deranged

If you don't have any Hope, Hope can't be destroyed.

I read that in a book this a.m., and I truly Wish that I'd known this BEFORE I got it tattooed on my arm. Sigh. Story of my life.

 

If you're having girl problems, I feel bad for you, son. I got 99 Problems, but a bitch ain't one.

Okay, so you have Paul McCartney, Jay-Z, and Chester from Linkin Park harmonizing on Yesterday. Just as a, you know, for instance. Which one don't belong? 2 are still currently (pop) culturally relevant, and one's Paul McCartney. Okay, that was an easy one; a gimmie, as it were. I kinda always liked the Boyz II Men version better, anyway.

That is what we in the industry like to refer to as a Teaser. It's all downhill from here, I'm afraid. What industry wouldst that be? Oh, I don't even pretend to have any industriousness, I simply like the word and deemed it somewhat appropriate. Fucking sue me.

 

It seems that the English House of Commons has passed a law banning smoking in all public places in England. Yet another in the myriad of reasons whyfore I hate the English. And I ain't even Irish.

Also, the UN and Amnesty International have brought forth allegations of torture at Guantanamo Bay. Hey, I've seen A Few Good Men, it happens. Nope, I can't handle the truth; and I'm fairly comfortable with that.

See, and y'all thought I was completely clueless with regard to current events. Don't you feel silly now? Here's a tissue. Wipe that egg off'n your faces. Okay...you're right, NO idea what's going on in the world at large. Almost as much interest. The news cuts into time more productively spent. Porn. Sleep. Funnybooks. Porn.

 

Y'all do know that I go out of My Way to Paint myself in the best possible light for you? Ain't that sad? In retrospect, I'm fairly certain that my mediocrity knows NO ceiling, glass or otherwise.

On the because of who and what I am front: as I was leaving work this morning, I happened acrost a somewhat challenged janitor folk attempting to simultaneously push a garbage bin and a bucket (avec mop) filled with water. Naturally, Just Like Anyone else would do, I offered to aid him and took the bucket and mop. I was going the same way as he, anyway. I was shocked and somewhat dismayed when he thanked me profusely for having done this. Like I said, just doing what anybody would. Or not. Whatever. That's just how I rolleth. And damn the consequences.

 

To anyone and, you know, everybody I may have offended yesterday: dreadful etiquette, humblest apologies, but we're all single here (If Only in spirit) and the rest of y'all are adults. You'll be fine. Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Damn, that even looks wrong, and I know how wrong it sounds. I say it often enough.

 

Tomorrow at 10 a.m., tickets go on sale hereabouts for a) INXS and 2) Franz Ferdinand/Death Cab For Cutie. While I genuinely Regret not seeing INXS when Michael Hutchence was Alive, I've, like, Zero interest in seeing them now. The 2nd offering, on the other hand, might be interesting. I know exactly who I'd ask, even though I barely know her. I'm not really familiar with either band, but they're popular and the tickets are fairly reasonable-like; so Why Not? I've a sneaking suspicion that folks won't be too deeply lined up at the (Evil Empire) Ticketmaster location mere minutes away from the Manor tomorrow, what with the weather and the fact that it Only recently re-opened and folks might not've been (until now) aware of it. Well, that and tickets going on sale on a Friday and all.

I guess we'll simply have to see. Of course, this would necessarily entail actually speaking to the young lady. I'm not sure that I'm ready for that sort of commitment just yet.

 

Hearty thanks to Ambien and Diamox (glad y'all stopped by: tell all your friends, acquaintances, and complete fucking strangers to do likewise; click on some ads, use the searchbar) for their moving and correctly spelled comments yesterday. Much obliged. I will certainly give the exercise before sleepytime theorem its day in court, thanks for the suggestion. Nope, I'm pretty sure I've no inner ear crises; I'm just slightly on the lummox tip, me. I appreciate the concern, though.

 

NOW the real Olympics have begun, Men's Hockey:

Russia and Slovakia play on the first day, whilst Canada draws Italy and Sweden gets Kazakhstan. The fix is in.

My beloved USA squad (why is Ryan Miller not playing?) runs into red hot Arturs Irbe and the Latvian squad. A 3-3 come-from-behind tie, my boys ain't looking too goodly this year. Sigh.

Yep, yesterday's hockey pool darkhorse, Sandis Ozolinsh, had 2 points on Latvia's 3 goals. Again, vindication. Again, I hope y'all picked him in your pools. He was made, bred in a laboratory, actually; for international hockey.

 

So I recently received my property assessment from the City of Calgary. Before I'd even gotten around to opening the fucking thing, I received a 2nd notice. When I finally opened them, there was like a $22000 discrepancy in the values assessed to Stately Deranged Manor. Now, I totally suck at math, I was a Social Sciences major; but 22 grand seems a bit above and beyond the call, error-wise. Sure, it means that my property value has increased almost $20000 over what I actually paid for the crib, but it also means that my taxes have increased  accordingly. Every silver lining has its dark cloud, don't it? Anyway, I'll be contacting them sometime this weekend, just to see what the fuck?

 

Nope, my tooth still don't really hurt, but it IS all too eager to bleed every time I brush my teeth. And it collects foodstuffs like a magnet. Good Times. And yet, kinda not. Needless to say, I'm looking into getting me a gold tooth as a replacement. Just because.

As I found myself idly lapping up some blood from one of my many small but painful cuts this a.m., I realized that I've hopped, skipped and jumped over that final boundary. I am a vampire, dammit. Cool. So...perhaps some fangs? Hmmm...could be could be.

 

The killer loved him some karaoke.

If'n I ever get around to writing that Great American Novel, that'll be the opening line. From there, I figure it'll pretty much write itself.

 

The list:

 

1) Amy Grant (it's kinda too bad she went back to singing the gospel, as her pop work was catchy and easily accessible. yeah, like y'all don't know all the words to Baby Baby, too. at least she's still fine, at least that hasn't been taken away from me.)

 

2) Amy Smart (perhaps, but I definitely know Christian Dumb. I've always liked her, but I had no idea she was in Starship Troopers; I'll have to check it again soon.)

 

3) Amy Lynn Bradley (US citizen (just like I nearly was, sigh) who vanished March 24th, 1998, whilst aboard a foreign vessel in international waters. I love a good mystery and the $250000 USD reward only adds to the appeal.)

 

4) Amy Lee (the other one. jazz saxophone player and a member of Jimmy Buffett's Coral Reefer Band. y'all know me, ANY excuse to use the word reefer; Oops, I Did it Again.)

 

5) Amy Taylor (elite California escort (mayhap if I give her a plug, she'll throw me a freebie or at least a discount; always thinking, me. not holding my breath, though) who travels internationally for her clients' convenience. a hot, shapely brunette go-getter; the kind of woman who makes things happen. I like that.)

 

6) Amy Van Dyken (truly a red-letter day hereabouts; a 6th womenfolks on the list. I believe I've mentioned just how much I LOVE this woman's name, so here she be.)

 

My weekend has begun. And none too soon. It was a balmy -42 degrees Celsius (like -20F) with the windchill at 3 this a.m., when I went outside for my smoke break. The temp had dropped 15 degrees in 2 hours, which was a somewhat less than pleasant surprise. But now, I'm in my sweats and just chillin' like a villain. With no particular place to go. Stay warm, y'all. I worry.