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  • Women of the Day 03/26/06

    Is sudoku anything like seppuku? If it IS, then I highly encourage the vast majority of humanity to try it at least once. Don't put it off, either. Try it today. Invite a friend.


    Birthday wishes to the delightful Keira Knightley this peaceful Sunday. I do believe I'll be watching Domino before Sleepytime today. Happy Birthday also to longtime fave James Caan, star of NBC's Las Vegas, which has sadly been relegated to the no man's land that is the Friday night TV schedule; soon to be cancelled, I'm sure. The last time I watched Las Vegas, I actually was in Las Vegas. I love telling that story. I think it fairly neatly summarizes my entire worldview.


    Is George Steinbrenner still paying part of Drew Henson's salary? I certainly hope so. I was watching the former Michigan star playing some NFL Europe-type quarterback yesterday and I had to giggle at the thought of the Yankees funding his new career. Whatever. He does need the reps. Otherwise Terrell Owens will be merciless with him in the press this coming season.


    So I was consulting my handy-dandy DIY guide to phrenology yesterday, wondering what these latest bumps on my noggin signify, and let's just say that the portents are kinda ominous.

    As I was laying me down to sleep last night, with the room kinda spinning a smidge, I thought to myself, self (yep, I really do think like that), I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to go to sleep after suffering a sharp blow to the skull. Something about the resulting concussion ensuring that you never Wake Up again. Then I thought, Cool. Then the bad thoughts came and someone had her belated revenge on me: what exactly is the deal with all those Baby On Board signs on cars (she phrased it better, that happens a lot)? Do all those folks actually HAVE children in their cars and are afraid of being rear-ended or is it merely a trend-type thing? I'd never even noticed the proliferation of these signs before, but suddenly they were all I could 'think' about. Naturally, this kept me up most of the night. Sigh. I likely deserved it, though. I almost always do.

    It was mighty charitable of everyone not to laugh TOO hard yesterday when I joked that the next group move would be everyone helping me finally move in with my delightful neighbor (her place is bigger than mine). Yeah, like that'll ever happen. Sometimes I really do say shit just to say it.


    I don't blame you for being you but you can't blame me for hating it.


    C for Country. As in I'm shipping out tomorrow, lay back and do it for your country, baby. That's always been one of my favorites. Sometimes old really does mean classic. Not in this case, of course, but sometimes.


    Today is Nascar's Food City 500. Where exactly is this city of food located? Is it anywhere near Surf City? Do I need a passport and/or a green card? Can I apply for political asylum, perhaps?


    I was watching the Los Angeles Lakers/Milwaukee Bucks game the other night and I saw oft-maligned Lakers' Center Kwame Brown reach WAY back to throw down a huge one-handed alleyoop dunk. I was impressed as all get out and I thought to myself, self, maybe he's finally getting it. But he's shown signs before and then gone out and put up a 2 points, 3 boards and 5 fouls night. I really hope that things are beginning to click for him and not just because I've added him in several of my NBA pools, either. I'm really not that selfish. Much.


    Disjointed, rambling

    thoughts wildly scrambling

    crawling their way back to you

    the same way I still kinda want to

    the way you always said I'd do

    but I guess it's just your right

    to always be right


    Like I said, I'm working on some things. Keeping some irons in the fire, so to speak. Again, purely rhetorical.


    The list:


    1) Anna Freud (continued the work of her pops, Sigmund, and became a pioneer in the psychoanalysis of children.)


    2) Brimo (a goddess of Death. I believe I may have mentioned my fixation on Death a time or 50.)


    3) Alison Krauss (on this one, I really do think it's best When You Say Nothing At All. I always liked that song, and that was really the best I could come up with today; did I mention that I suffered a sharp blow to the melon yesterday?)


    4) Ria Sen (Indian supermodel and actress; I really should check out some of them Bollywood flicks sometime. again, early 90's Benetton ad is the Ultimate goal. except heavily leaning towards the fine.)


    5) Michelle Hall (aka Michelle Von Flotow. hot B-movie actress, star of the classic Sexually Bewitched (I wonder what she twitches to work her magic in this one); Pleasureville; and Sin in the City, in which I believe Mr. Big actually has to prove it.)


    It's almost time for Zoey 101, so I'm Audi 5000. Or something equally Valley-speak, I seem to have misplaced that particular dictionary of late. Likely when I was cleaning my fucking pad just in case like before spending time with K(A). I've misplaced all kinds of things as a result of that particular gaffe. Enjoy your Sunday, I'll be back later.

  • This post courtesy of the concussion I suffered this morning

    But other than that, moving day went relatively smoothly.

    Pretty much the very first fucking thing I moved; I'm exiting the rented moving trailer, MP3 player blaring in my ears (I was kinda still half asleep, tunes help wake me up sometimes), and I clocked my empty fucking skull on the top of the trailer. Knocked me right on my shapely ass, too. A nice icebreaker, if'n I do say so myself. Although I wouldn't recommend it to any of y'all what actually need to keep your brains on the, you know, insides of your skulls. I'm just sorry that the late arrivals didn't get to enjoy the spectacle of my latest humiliation, as I know that Kim and Carl got a kick out of it. Even though I tend to be all conceited-like, I'll admit that me going ass over tea-kettle the first 10 minutes of the day did metaphorically lighten everyone's load just a smidge. Like I said, I'm a team player. An enabler, even. Anything I can do to help someone else out.

    On the positive tip, at least I didn't bleed. Scalp wounds tend to bleed heavily and profusely. I believe I've mentioned that I'm a bleeder. I suspect I'll be having nasty headaches for the next few days, though. A small price to pay for helping out a friend (who has done me many a solid) and entertaining the troops.


    The best part of believe is the lie.


    I may just be all over the place today, as I'm having a little trouble focusing my eyes. Y'all likely won't even notice a difference (it's not like I ever really have a, you know, point or anything), but trust me, it's there.


    I really like it hereabouts, as I only have to feign interesting. Back in the world I find it so much harder to get by, to pass; as I have to feign normal. And the harder one tries to appear normal, the less normal one really seems. However, I actually am on the bus line to reality, even though I'm kinda lacking the schedule for when that particular bus is running and wherefore I might catch it. But hopes remain high.


    Much obliged to Kim for having everything all packed up and good to go today. It really made the whole endeavour proceed a great deal more smoothly. Even if he wasn't willing to go me worker's comp for my skull fracture. Fair enough, I wouldn't want to fuck up his insurance premiums. I'm just happy that I didn't drop anything, clumsy fucking oaf what I tend to be.

    Oh yeah, and the new digs are solid. Especially your cute little neighbor. Todd and I did our best to improve your neighborhood relations, but you'd best get on that. There's nothing more convenient than pussy on call. With zero commute. Oh I miss those days when I used to get it delivered. Now I actually have to go out and pursue it. Sigh. Oh wait, that's right...I'm married. Never mind. False alarm. I'm sure the ex-wife is being all faithful to me until she takes care of that annulment. How much for that bridge? That beachfront property?

    Also to Carl, Colin, Todd and Tamara for showing up and helping Kim with his barn raising or quilting bee or whatever it was. Hell, if necessary, I'd have been the only one there helping. He's my boy, and I'd do the same for any of the strangers I call friends. Although I'm learning more about them all the time. It's kinda neat to hang out with actual grownups, it makes me feel just like a real boy. It's nice to see folks come and help out a friend. I'd never expect the same, mostly because I'd likely never ask. Y'all know how I fear and loathe rejection. Which is odd, you'd think I'd be immune to it by now. What with only being interested in those I can never have and all.

    And T was a really good sport about my nominating her for giving my inner critic (again, I'm really sorry about running into her) voice the other day. I knew she was Cool like that. Nice of her to give this worthless freeloader a lift home, too, especially when I was such a hopeless copilot. Yeah, like I can read a map. I can't even FOLD a map. Why do you think I don't drive? However, I'm more than willing to ask for and even accept directions. In all sorts of situations. I'm confident enough in my masculinity (and my girlish figure) that I don't always have to be in control.


    You're right, the reason I don't drive is purely for the benefits to the environment. Like me not wrapping a car around a tree in a drunken stupor.

    Actually, my anger issues and Mr. Self-Destruct ways tended to come to the forefront when I drove. And I really don't want to be that guy again, even if he was kinda fun in a drunken frat boy sort of way. It got to the point where folks were afraid to be my passengers (and y'all know how teenagers tend to think themselves invincible and immortal; I haven't driven since I was 18, damn near 16 years ago now), because I'm pretty much fucking nuts. To drop some psychobabble on y'all. Don't have much concern for my own personal well-being, either. And I wasn't a very skilled driver, as the cherry on top the sundae.

    Just as a for instance: one quite rainy day I was driving to a volleyball game (we only had 6 folks on our high school team, very small school; no need to take a bus), and stuck behind a Sunday-type driver. Sadly, there was a double yellow line. Naturally, I passed on the ditch side. I had an elsewhere to be. Did I mention I was well over the posted speed limit and hydroplaning just a smidge at the time. I can't recall if I'd been drinking (those were dark days when I oft-times could only afford hooch, but not mix; therefore I developed a taste for liquor straight-up) or not but it's entirely possible. I used to have some issues.

    As opposed to now, where I'm the picture of normalcy. Burdened only with my slight Self-Esteem problems.


    Folks have asked of late, so here it be. Yes, I DO drink, but pretty much only when there's a purpose to it. I've never been much for drinking beers whilst watching the big game. I drink to get drunk. Then I drink some more. Or to provide crazy bravery. Or to be able to untie my tongue when it's time to speak to the womenfolks. Sorry, the SINGLE womenfolks. I seem to be able to speak in damn near complete sentences with the taken ones. It's likely Just My Imagination.

    And when I drink, I tend to have a hard time stopping as long as I'm still conscious and/or upright which is why I don't do it very often. Note to self: a few drinks make you less inhibited; anything in double figures and you tend to become intolerable. Just for future reference.

    You've seen the sorts of things I come up with sober. Can you imagine what I might come up with intoxicated? And the last time I got really really REALLY drunk I got married to a complete stranger. A hard lesson but a valuable one.


    All right, supper's calling and then an early bedtime so's I can get back to a more nocturnal schedule for work starting tomorrow night. Enjoy your S...A...T...U...R...D...A...Y Night. To drop some Bay City Rollers qualitay on y'all. When I was a mere lad (as opposed to being merely childish now), that was my favorite song. More True Confessions from yours truly. Until manana. Take care.

  • Women of the Day 03/25/06

    I really hate it when a woman pulls my punk card like that.

    In retrospect, I likely played True Confessions WAY too soon. Telling her I'm mildly lactose intolerant? I'm surprised and kinda grateful she didn't just spit in my face, throw her coffee at me, break the cup over my head, call me harsh but entirely justified names and storm out the spot in a huff. I'll always be grateful to her for her tolerance and restraint.

    I know. I totally hopped, skipped and leapt over the bounds of good taste being all open and vulnerable like that. Nobody wants to hear that sort of truth so soon into an innocent little outing. Again, Live and Learn.

    I'm pretty sure that I should've told her how nice she looked that day, though. Maybe complimented her outfit or some such. But y'all know I'm all about the making her laugh approach as opposed to the more common make her feel pretty method. Always the hard way, me. All part of the charm.


    In honor of today being the birthdate of one Howard Cosell, I fully intend to only speak in a bad imitation (the only kind of which I'm capable) of his voice today and I heartily advise each and every one of y'all to do likewise.

    Birthday wishes to the lovely, talented and oh-so-fuckable Sarah Jessica Parker (did they ever open that Failure to Launch travesty or did it, in fact, FAIL to, you know, launch?) and Marcia Cross (yes, I watched the 1st season of Desperate Housewives but lost touch during them 6 dark months I went sans TV and never went back) on this pleasant Saturday.


    The ribbon on my wrist says Do Not Open Before Christmas.


    Losing in the last 2 seconds of overtime in the NCAA Tournament on a goaltending call. That's gotta be one of the circles of Hell, don't it? Heartfelt sympathies to the Boston College squad from someone who knows all too well what snatching defeat from the jaws of an upset victory feels like.

    If it's any consolation to their players, alumni and fans (especially the poor bastard what actually did his damndest to block the shot)...I think it would've gone in, anyway. You know my motto, any port in a storm.


    If you die in the game, you die for REAL. Like.

    Yeah, I'll be rushing to the theatre to see Stay Alive when it opens next week. Nope, not even Elisha Cuthbert and Neve Campbell's presence (I think, I didn't really look all that closely) can make this one palatable. Unless they're Naked. Preferably with power tools and various other appropriate props of a somewhat deviant nature.


    My kitchen chair upon which I sit to keep from falling asleep in my recliner is this close to collapsing totally. Not that y'all care or anything, but I'm all about the open and honest some days.


    Today is moving day for my boy Kim. You know, in case any of y'all have some free time today and feel like getting some fresh air and exercise. Me, I have a phobia about fresh air and I get all the exercise I could ever need and then some at my braindead job. But when a friend needs help, I'm there. Especially if it falls under my personal area of expertise: carrying shit like a packhorse. Fortuitously, that is all that is required of I this day.


    Muchas gracias yet again to good ol' phentermine for another thought-provoking, witty and insightful comment. Tell all your friends. Click on some ads, I've a trip to Vancouver to see Fall Out Boy to fund. Use that search bar, too.


    Song of the Day: Jon Secada- Do You Believe in Us? I used to listen to this one all the time, and liked most of his debut disc, but I'd considered him pretty much vanished from the face of pop culture. Well, you can likely imagine my surprise yesterday when I was surfing the site of the Evil Empire Ticketmaster and discovered they were giving away (ie: FREE) tickets to Mr. Secada's concert in Anaheim last night. It's kinda heartwarming to see the Devil taking it up the ass his ownself once in a while, ain't it? I guess there were more folks than just I who thought this fellow deceased, career-wise. Again, fuck you to Ticketmaster, the real Great Satan. No matter what all them foreign lands say.

    Hell yeah I'd have gone to the concert. It was FREE.


    I see that the Boston Red Sox acquired Hee-Seop Choi yesterday. This man's name never fails to elicit a giggle from me, even though he's a decent hitter and fairly competent with the leather. Mostly because I always pronounce it to the tune of Neil Diamond's timeless classic Sweet Caroline. Complete with the bomp bomp ba or however that goes. I believe I may have mentioned that I'm just a smidge off-beat at times. Try it and see, perhaps in those times when you're looking up at the proverbial dumps. After all, at that point, what've you got to lose?

    And Keyshawn Johnson has signed on with the Carolina Panthers. Sadly, I don't have a song to accompany his name. The Panthers' offence should be pretty spectacular this coming season, though, if that helps. Especially if DeShaun Foster can stay healthy for a first time for everything.


    Congratulations to New York Rangers forward Jaromir Jagr (My Sister's a big fan of him) on notching his 50th goal of the season last night. It's kinda nice to see him playing with some interest this year. And he still has one of the prettiest goals I've ever seen, back in the Stanley Cup Finals against the Chicago Blackhawks a lifetime ago. Mad skills. Dedication, sometimes not so much.

    And to George Mason University, whose Cinderella run in this year's version of March Madness continues. This year saw their first ever tournament game victory, so everything else is just gravy; but I still hope they go far. I always root root root for the underdog. Fuck the hometeam.


    C for Cacoethes. Me and my many manias (maniaii?) and compulsions. Of which this is merely the latest in a seemingly endless string. Nope, it likely won't be the last. Sorry. Deal with it as best you can. Pray that my meds finally start to kick in. Whatever.


    I was able to secure and check the Natalie Portman/Fall Out Boy episode of Saturday Night Live yesterday afternoon. Some thoughts occurred; yes, it does happen occasionally:

    - Chris Farley's rolling over in his grave.

    - Tina Fey and Amy Poehler (oh, I certainly WOULD- both of them at once) are quite attractive; funny and intelligent, too. It's nice to see that they've made the delightful Ms. Fey a regular cast member. Perhaps if they'd done the same with Janeane Garafalo and/or Sarah Silverman when they were on the show it wouldn't suck so bad now. Perhaps not. We'll never know.

    - The episode itself was rather weak, other than when the delightful Ms. Portman took a facial. Yeah, I can feel that blessed traffic rolling in now. Sadly, it was merely some blue melted ice cream or some such. But she's still a gamer. Yet another reason to love her. She's a pretty good rapper, too. Does a mean Sasha Cohen impression to boot.

    - Fall Out Boy performed Dance Dance and Sugar, We're Going Down. They were pretty solid, all full of energy and rowdy-like. Sadly, the mics on their instruments kinda drowned out the lead singer just a smidge. The drummer's got some serious artwork going on. The guitarist and my man Pete were both bouncing around like hummingbirds on crack. Me and my attempts at similes, at least they're sometimes reasonable facsimiles.

    It was pretty Cool. Especially when Pete called it a night by heaving his bass into the drum kit. Ah, old school. Good Times. Not as good as Nirvana's SNL appearance (the gold standard), but all in all worth the time and effort I put into obtaining and clocking the show.

    - Did I mention how much I long for the old days when Sandler, Spade, Farley et al ruled the roost? Hell, even Rob Schneider.


    The list:


    1) Michelle Bachelet (a Socialist pediatrician who suffered prison, torture and exile yet emerged triumphant and was recently sworn in as Chile's first female president.)


    2) Jamie Lynn Spears (because she's the embodiment of what I like to refer to as future prospects. someday soon, she'll make everyone forget about Britney. at least until Britney finally does porn. any day now, honey.)


    3) Ellen Barkin (Sea of Love is reason enough. I'm happy to report that she survived a recent near Death experience thanks to the quick thinking and Heimlich Maneuver of a top Hollywood agent in a popular and exclusive restaurant.)


    4) Taylor Wane (30DD-22-32 English expat (see, I don't hate ALL the British, just most) who sadly left the porn industry after 80+ films to get, sigh, married. tragic.)


    5) Ama Ata Aidoo (Ghanaian authrix, poet, playwright and mistress of Cool alliteration. writes of contemporary roles of African women and the negative impact of Western influence on African culture.)


    All right, obligation calls. Friends to assist. I'll try to make it back later. Enjoy your Saturday, y'all. May today be all springtime fresh in your neck of the woods.