Reading The Fox's blog entry regarding his love of books in general, fantasy in particular, did, amongst several things, remind me how much I love horror. Specifically, the mind-numbing terror stuff that robs me of my ability to sleep. Yes, I admit, I dig some of the slasher stuff too, where people are butchered just for the sake of butchery, but I generally prefer stuff that makes me shiver. So, in deference to my esteemed (and quite well-read) colleague, I submit my own version of his questionaire, though I disclaim any similarities to his entry other than format; remember, this is the guy that has an approximate IQ of 312, yet maintains Bogart is superior to Sinatra. Thanks for making me thing, Fox.
Fox's List (adapted for horror by Bunny.)
1. Science fiction, fantasy, or horror?
Horror, please. I don't get much out of the other two genres. Horror in all its forms (slasher, psychological, et cetera) gives me the creeps, and I dig that.
2. Hardback, trade paperback, or mass-market paperback?
No hardback for me. I can always tuck a paperback or two into my jacket pockets. Not so with HC.
3. Heinlein or Asimov?
I leave this question as-is because I have a funny story about Asimov. In art college, I had painting, and I completely hated it. This was simply because I suck at it, knew it, and chose to focus on my strengths instead of bettering a weakness in this context. I had accepted the reality of a six-week project representing 50% of my grade. It was to be a portrait. Can you guess who I painted? Yep! Asimov. I was working part-time at a bookstore at the time, and Asimov had just died, so he was emphasized in the marketing displays. I chose to paint a portrait of an older Asimov, and the background was outer space. Well, my judgement of my abilities was spot on, and my painting, when hung up with everyone else's for critique, garnered such encouraging (yet surprisingly accurate) reviews as, "I didn't know balloons could float that high," and "despite what physics you may choose to employ, eggs cannot remain staticly positioned in the heavens, even if they do look like Burl Ives (that is who that is, right?)" Other than that, I pick Asimov, for the sole reason that he wrote "Realm of X", where X was a scientific subject. I've never had a more clear and understandable explanation of calculus, neither before nor after.
4. Amazon or brick-and-mortar?
Brick and fucking mortar. As the son of a small business owner, I vehemently object to big-box anything, even if it's on-line. Now, I agree with Fox that the way-out-of-the-ordinary book that you have given true dilligence in finding locally and can't may merit using Amazon, or Amazon UK (for example, my wife's Harry Potter editions she can only get from the UK or Canada.) Otherwise, they can piss off.
5. Barnes & Noble or Borders?
Borders – better store layout, greater likelyhood of finding the aforementioned wierd tomes.
6. Hitchhiker or Discworld?
Don't know either of 'em, but Fox's link to The Luggage may make me check this one out...
7. Bookmark or dog-ear?Bookmark.
Both, whatever is possible when I need to stop. I usually use the receipt of the purchase as the bookmark; it's interesting to see my collection grow over the years.
8. Magazine: Asimov's Science Fiction or Fantasy & Science Fiction?
Neither. Haven't read either.
9. Alphabetize by author, by title, or random?
I organize by a) author, b) genre, and c) book size. Thus, all of one author' s books are together, but not necessarily in any further sort pattern than that.
10. Keep, throw away, or sell?
I keep most of 'em, and donate the rest (what few escape my clutches. I hope to someday have a home library where all the walls are bookcases teeming with words.)
11. Year's Best Science Fiction series (edited by Gardner Dozois) or Years Best SF series?Neither. Never heard of either of them.
12. Keep dustjacket or toss it?
I'd keep it if I bought hardcovers. But, I'm a paperback freak myself.
13. Read with dustjacket or remove it?
See #12.
14. Short story or novel?
I enjoy both, but prefer novels because I really get to know the characters. If it's a short story or novella that I'm reading, I need the characters to be intensely present, or I find myself having little emotional investment in their outcomes, which is a problem in horror fiction.
15. Harry Potter or Lemony Snicket?
Harry Potter for me. I love that bad things happen in the stories; children's tales where people are bewitched and killed and injured! Love it! The Brits must have better-adjusted kids than us. When it comes to PC and 'protecting' the fragile little minds of kids today, I find it sickening. Let your children see what a dead squirrel on the side of the road looks like, explain truthfully what happend (not, "he's in squirrel heaven where he eats nut sundaes every day!"), and move on. Let your child digest it, and do the same.
16. Stop reading when tired or at chapter breaks?
When I’m tired, and at the top of a page. I can't keep reading just to get to a chapter for the sake of doing so. I'll not pay any attention to the material.
17. "It was a dark and stormy night" or "Once upon a time"?
Dark and stormy night. Especially if in that night there is a malevolent creature with fangs, a raspy growl, and no sense of mercy.
18. Buy or borrow?
Buy, almost always. Remember! The bookcase!
19. Buying choice: book reviews, recommendation, or browse?
I am a fan of reading other writer's suggestions. I am currently reading books recommended by Stephen King, and they encompass many genres and styles. I find it helpful to digest his works after learning more about what he feels is impressionable. But, I do admit going into bookstores, and purchasing a book solely on the title or cover. It's fun to discover something completely random.
20. Lovecraft or King?
It's been said Lovecraft wrote fewer than 5,000 words of dialogue in his career, and that King writes that per book. I give the vote to King with the proviso that Lovecraft was superior in create an environment you just couldn't wait to get the hell out of. King wins because, once he had you and the characters there, what you thought the worst that could happen, did.
21. Slasher or psycho-thriller?
Psycho-thriller, quest que cest?
22. Collection (short stories by the same author) or anthology (short stories by different authors)?
In this, I actually agree with Fox in the fantasy world; I love Bradbury.
23. Hugo or Nebula?
Don't know em!
24. Golden Age horror or New Wave horror?
Give me slightly older-school. The new stuff is just for shock-value.
25. Tidy ending or cliffhanger?
If by tidy, you mean many dead and some come-uppance? Then tidy it is!
26. Morning, afternoon, or nighttime reading?
I get to read a little in the morning, and I spend my lunchtime at work buried in a novel, but I love reading in bed at night until I'm sleepy. I tend to read multiple books at once. At the moment, I'm working on three different books. As Fox said, there is plenty of time, you just have to find it.
27. Standalone or series?
Can't really choose. I generally like stand-alones, but a good series is well worth the read.
28. Urban fantasy or high fantasy?
I can't say I really know the difference. So, uh, I guess...high.
29. New or used?
For me, used. Spending time perusing the shelves of disheveled books is time well-spent. Especially when you locate that book you've been looking for forever.
30. Favorite book of which nobody else has heard?
Lives of the Monster Dogs - Kirsten Bakis
31. Top X favorite genre books read last year? (Where X is 5 or less)
Dirty White Boys, Steven Harris; Footprints of God, Greg Iles
32. Top X favorite genre books of all time? (Where X is 5 or less)
Hannibal, Thomas Harris; The Exorcist, William Blatty; The Hellbound Heart, Clive Barker; Needful Things, Stephen King
33. X favorite genre series? (Where X is 5 or less)
Hellraiser, Clive Barker; The Hannibal Lecter series (The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, Red Dragon, Manhunter);
34. Top X favorite genre short stories? (Where X is 5 or less)
Any Poe you please. Also, I dig some Kafka when my life makes too much sense. And Bradbury.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Friday, January 12, 2007
Thursday, January 11, 2007
I need to feel better. N-O-W.
Just thinking about the dinner earlier is making me all antsy in the pantsy. I need something to calm my nerves. Something to re-ground my sensibilities. In short, something to make the pain go away.
But what?
Cognac? Perhaps. Hmmmmm....nah.
Sambuca? Better, but still nots whats I'se needs.
Ah yes.
I have it.
A good, old-fashioned, no-nonsense picture of some sausages.
That's it, my deliciously corpulent little links of delight; give daddy his medicine.
Aaaaahhhhhh.
But what?
Cognac? Perhaps. Hmmmmm....nah.
Sambuca? Better, but still nots whats I'se needs.
Ah yes.
I have it.
A good, old-fashioned, no-nonsense picture of some sausages.
That's it, my deliciously corpulent little links of delight; give daddy his medicine.
Aaaaahhhhhh.
Yuck.
Carmen and I were presented an opportunity this evening to experience a little slice of "Restaurant Week," a twice-yearly, week-long event when local, up-scale restaurants offer a limited menu for (usually) half-price. A great way to try the better restaurants around town without dropping hundreds of dollars doing it. Last time, we tried Corduroy , and had a wonderful time doing so. This time...well, we weren't so lucky.
This time we tried The Monocle, a "DC institution" where loads-o-senators and congressmen go to chat it up and make "important" decisions over a $30 steak. We were offered this opportunity via a co-worker who couldn't make the reservation after all, and offered it to us. Gladly, we accepted. Here's what we (well, I, anyway) found.
The decor: old-style interior with fabric wallpaper and a gold-and-crimson color pallete. The interior was comfortable and inviting. Lining the crown molding were painted slogans saying things like, "If you want a friend in Washington - get a dog," and "An attack unanswered is an attack believed." Ok. That's a little disheartening, but, whatever. I think politics suck, and I'm pretty certain politics feels the same about me. No love lost there.
The menu: The menus rolled out for Restaurant Week comprise a limited selection of items, but in no way are the selections poor or second-class. The Monocle offered an appetizer (fried calimari, roasted vegetables with goat cheese, or any salad or soup you wanted), a main course (filet mignon, grilled salmon, or shrimp and orzo), and dessert (creme brulee, cheesecake, or chocolate cake) for a grand total of $30. Sounds too good to be true, right? Read on. Of course, the full menu is available, but not as part of the week.
The food: This is really all I cared about; this, and the wine list of course. Being the complete epicurean, I like to peruse all the meats of the cultural stew. First, the wine list. It was mediocre at best. It had a grand total of roughly thirty wines to choose from. But I'm totally ok with that; the restaurant never claims to be a vintner-grade place, so there is no foul. Carmen got a Californian Viognier. Myself, a central-coast Chardonnay for the apps, and a French Pinot Noir for din-din. The apps were pretty solid. Carmen got a tossed salad with hearts of palm, and a decent vinaigrette. I got the fried calimari. The rings were delicious, and served with a spiced pepper aoili. Good stuff, save for the unfavorable ratio of squigglies to rings. I estimated the ratio of tentacles to rings at roughly 1:1.75...WAY too close. There should be significantly more rings than squigglies, say to the order of 1:3.5 or 1:4. Anything less, and it's like picking through a graveyard of dead bodies to find the little fried pots of ringed gold. Yay to the flavor and cooking of said calimari, boo to the ratio. For the main course, Carmen got the shrimp and orzo in a cream sauce. In her words, it was "more creamy than I thought it would be." She rated her main course a 5.25/10.00. Not a solid outing. For me? I got the "Filet Mignon with Mushrooms, Peppers, and Onions in a Red Wine Reduction Sauce." The owner should really pay attention to whoever is printing the menus for his establishment, because what I got was "Sad Little Pieces of Brownish Meat with Limpy Peppers, Green Mushrooms, and No Onions in a Sickly Sweet Burgundy-Colored 'Sauce' that Tasted Like Chef Boyardee Mixed One Part Cat Puree With Three Parts Ketchup." Now, I completely understand that, during a week-long event like this where your profit margin as a restaurant tanks, the plan is to placate the masses, HOWEVER, at least give them a reason NOT to refer to the inconsistent, oddly-sized brown things coming out of you an hour later as "Monocle Pies." Dessert? We both got the Creme Brulee (who wouldn't?). It can be said that, at least, the "chefs" are consistent. Imagine getting a ramekin that is really cold, with a rim that is almost unbearably hot. Yep. You guessed it. They took it out of the fridge, and ran a cooking torch over the top to caramelize the sugar to a crust. The result was a badly-burned crust with a near-frozen brulee underneath.
The bill: $133 with tip. How? Well, the booze and the extras. We figure we saved roughly $40 because of the weekly event. Thank God. $173 for that would have been like paying $500 to have a one-eyed prostitute f*ck a horse while you drank extra-dry vermouth from the bottle and watched while sitting on a broken glass-covered stool eighteen inches away; it sounds all cool and stuff, you know, a woman f*cking a horse! But then you're there, and it's like...uh...that's...a...woman....f*cking...a....horse.
The skinny: Look, I again concede this restaurant never touted itself as a mecca for higher-end cuisine. It's a place where pols meet to schmooze and conduct "legitimate government business." It NEVER overpromises, therefore it NEVER underdelivers. The place itself is attractive and comfortable. The staff was helpful and present (including the waiter at the end who told me I could go into the coat-check myself and to have a good night.) On paper, The Monocle looked good, maybe even worth the money. But when the tires hit the road? Well, let's just say I held off using their restroom for fear of leaving no extra bathroom tissue that might need to be hidden under "Red Wine Reduction Sauce" and passed off as "Filet Mignon" later on that night. Before or after use, that is.
Final scores:
Appearance: 7.25/10.00
Menu: 6.50/10.00
Service/Waitstaff: 6.75/10.00
Food: (as props in a Three Stooges Bathroom Skit, 8.00/10.00; as-is 4.00/10.00)
Wine List: 5.00/10.00
Cost (relative to value): 3.50/10.00
Overall: 4.25/10.00
Blech!
This time we tried The Monocle, a "DC institution" where loads-o-senators and congressmen go to chat it up and make "important" decisions over a $30 steak. We were offered this opportunity via a co-worker who couldn't make the reservation after all, and offered it to us. Gladly, we accepted. Here's what we (well, I, anyway) found.
The decor: old-style interior with fabric wallpaper and a gold-and-crimson color pallete. The interior was comfortable and inviting. Lining the crown molding were painted slogans saying things like, "If you want a friend in Washington - get a dog," and "An attack unanswered is an attack believed." Ok. That's a little disheartening, but, whatever. I think politics suck, and I'm pretty certain politics feels the same about me. No love lost there.
The menu: The menus rolled out for Restaurant Week comprise a limited selection of items, but in no way are the selections poor or second-class. The Monocle offered an appetizer (fried calimari, roasted vegetables with goat cheese, or any salad or soup you wanted), a main course (filet mignon, grilled salmon, or shrimp and orzo), and dessert (creme brulee, cheesecake, or chocolate cake) for a grand total of $30. Sounds too good to be true, right? Read on. Of course, the full menu is available, but not as part of the week.
The food: This is really all I cared about; this, and the wine list of course. Being the complete epicurean, I like to peruse all the meats of the cultural stew. First, the wine list. It was mediocre at best. It had a grand total of roughly thirty wines to choose from. But I'm totally ok with that; the restaurant never claims to be a vintner-grade place, so there is no foul. Carmen got a Californian Viognier. Myself, a central-coast Chardonnay for the apps, and a French Pinot Noir for din-din. The apps were pretty solid. Carmen got a tossed salad with hearts of palm, and a decent vinaigrette. I got the fried calimari. The rings were delicious, and served with a spiced pepper aoili. Good stuff, save for the unfavorable ratio of squigglies to rings. I estimated the ratio of tentacles to rings at roughly 1:1.75...WAY too close. There should be significantly more rings than squigglies, say to the order of 1:3.5 or 1:4. Anything less, and it's like picking through a graveyard of dead bodies to find the little fried pots of ringed gold. Yay to the flavor and cooking of said calimari, boo to the ratio. For the main course, Carmen got the shrimp and orzo in a cream sauce. In her words, it was "more creamy than I thought it would be." She rated her main course a 5.25/10.00. Not a solid outing. For me? I got the "Filet Mignon with Mushrooms, Peppers, and Onions in a Red Wine Reduction Sauce." The owner should really pay attention to whoever is printing the menus for his establishment, because what I got was "Sad Little Pieces of Brownish Meat with Limpy Peppers, Green Mushrooms, and No Onions in a Sickly Sweet Burgundy-Colored 'Sauce' that Tasted Like Chef Boyardee Mixed One Part Cat Puree With Three Parts Ketchup." Now, I completely understand that, during a week-long event like this where your profit margin as a restaurant tanks, the plan is to placate the masses, HOWEVER, at least give them a reason NOT to refer to the inconsistent, oddly-sized brown things coming out of you an hour later as "Monocle Pies." Dessert? We both got the Creme Brulee (who wouldn't?). It can be said that, at least, the "chefs" are consistent. Imagine getting a ramekin that is really cold, with a rim that is almost unbearably hot. Yep. You guessed it. They took it out of the fridge, and ran a cooking torch over the top to caramelize the sugar to a crust. The result was a badly-burned crust with a near-frozen brulee underneath.
The bill: $133 with tip. How? Well, the booze and the extras. We figure we saved roughly $40 because of the weekly event. Thank God. $173 for that would have been like paying $500 to have a one-eyed prostitute f*ck a horse while you drank extra-dry vermouth from the bottle and watched while sitting on a broken glass-covered stool eighteen inches away; it sounds all cool and stuff, you know, a woman f*cking a horse! But then you're there, and it's like...uh...that's...a...woman....f*cking...a....horse.
The skinny: Look, I again concede this restaurant never touted itself as a mecca for higher-end cuisine. It's a place where pols meet to schmooze and conduct "legitimate government business." It NEVER overpromises, therefore it NEVER underdelivers. The place itself is attractive and comfortable. The staff was helpful and present (including the waiter at the end who told me I could go into the coat-check myself and to have a good night.) On paper, The Monocle looked good, maybe even worth the money. But when the tires hit the road? Well, let's just say I held off using their restroom for fear of leaving no extra bathroom tissue that might need to be hidden under "Red Wine Reduction Sauce" and passed off as "Filet Mignon" later on that night. Before or after use, that is.
Final scores:
Appearance: 7.25/10.00
Menu: 6.50/10.00
Service/Waitstaff: 6.75/10.00
Food: (as props in a Three Stooges Bathroom Skit, 8.00/10.00; as-is 4.00/10.00)
Wine List: 5.00/10.00
Cost (relative to value): 3.50/10.00
Overall: 4.25/10.00
Blech!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
2007: The Year of Revelations...
Even in this early stage of this young, young year, I have already come to terms with some truths in my life. To preclude my becoming boring, I will not list them all right now, lest I become boring and, (eek!) pedestrian in my musings. Here are a couple to whet your whistles.
1. My favorite beer in the whole wide world, Belhaven, is precariously close to losing it's rank. I know, I know. Crazy talk, right? I'm sure you're thinking, "ahah! Now High Life can take it's rightful place at the Zeus slot of the beer pantheon!" Well, I can't rightfully say that just yet, true as it might turn out. No, the dark horse in this whole shebang is Hoegaarden, a wonderful Belgian white. If you haven't had one yet, go ahead. I'll wait. No, even better, I'll buy. I will keep all posted on my intensive research and testing. I hope to have a winner within a month or two.
2. Being married is a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. Another shocker, I know. Especially for anyone who has ever known me. But it's true; marriage is not all backrubs and delicious turkey dinners and pudding fights on tarps and sock puppets with dirty names like "Nipples the Curious Sockpuppet" and the like. No, my little monkeys, it's filled with things like cleaning up after yourself! It's about minimizing the wake of destruction you leave after using the bathroom to get ready in the morning! They expect you to shave! You can't go around arbitrarely buying socks and naming them 'Nipples'! Fortunately, I have a great teammate in all of this, and in the end, I outweigh her by roughly 85 pounds, so it would be quick if it went too far.
3. I LOVE horror. Of all kinds. Movies. Books. Folklore. Whatever. I love the macabre (something I share with my sis,) in all its manifestations. If you have a recommendation, lemme know! I'll try to do the same. But... please make it good. I'm not looking for slasher flicks like "Halloween 7" unless you can substantiate why it's good. I'm looking for quality here, people! I promise to deliver the same.
Ok, more revelations later. Now, I would like to take a moment to congratulate the up-coming class of Rock-and-Roll Hall Of Fame inductees...
That's right. The Mighty VH is getting into the RRHOF, and gets to walk down the elegial aisle with Grandmaster Flash himself. The ceremony is March 12th. Any takers to go witness some history? Can't you just picture it? Eddie wailing to the docit tones of "White Lines"? Or GMF bustin' wylde to "Atomic Punk"? Let's roll! (Like my hand-made logos? There are certain trademark rules one must follow.)
In fact, in honor of the occassion, I invite you to take this brief quiz...
For Mike...
Dear Mike, as I understand it, you dare question VH's veracity in entering the RRHOF. Here are some points to think about.
1. Van Halen has, to date, sold more than 75 million albums. This is roughly 40 million more albums than 1999 inductees The Staple Singers.
2. Van Halen has exactly one number-one hit, "Jump." This happens to be the same as 1998 inductee Lloyd Price ("Stagger Lee".) Of course, "Stagger Lee" lasted only four weeks. "Jump"? Five.
3. Van Halen was performing and touring over a span of 27 years (unfortunately, it pains me to concede this includes the most-unfortunate Van Halen III. I also confess I have never heard any of it. I refuse to.) My point? They had a longer active career than 1987 inductee Clyde McPhatter (I will also confess "McPhatter" is a cooler last name than "Van Halen", at least, until you're older than 24.)
4. According to VH1's 100 Greatest Artists of Rock and Roll, Van Halen ranks #48. And, while they don't top artists like Led Zepplin (#4), U2 (#29), and Prince (#18), they do best Frank Zappa (#64), Johnny Cash (#89), and Stevie Ray Vaughn (#70). Now, I know what you're saying..."that's can't be right. Those statistics are rigged!" Fair enough. Conveniently, VH1 also solicited public opinion and found Van Halen at #31 (even better!), still ahead of Zappa (#58), Cash (#87), and SRV (#70.) In fact, vox populi ranked VH ahead of Miles Davis (#73), Janis Joplin (#35), and The Police (#34)! Suck it!
5. Number 2, baby. 'Nuff said. Thank you, KISW. Thank you.
Ball's in your court, my friend. Bring it.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
The Giver of Fish Returneth...
Monkeys.
Hello.
Remember me?
I know some of you do.
I know I do.
Sort of. (kinda hazy).
Lots to talk about.
Much and many happenings.
But...
Know this.
Der Mann Der Den Kindern Fische und Freude überall Gibt habe heute geturnischt.
(and if you don't remember my June, '04 entry, I'll translate...)
The Giver of Fish and Joy To Children Everywhere Has Returned.
bis bald.
Hello.
Remember me?
I know some of you do.
I know I do.
Sort of. (kinda hazy).
Lots to talk about.
Much and many happenings.
But...
Know this.
Der Mann Der Den Kindern Fische und Freude überall Gibt habe heute geturnischt.
(and if you don't remember my June, '04 entry, I'll translate...)
The Giver of Fish and Joy To Children Everywhere Has Returned.
bis bald.
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Let's get one thing straight...
OK, my monkeys. There has been some debate over the outcome of a battle of me versus TMS. Let's look at some facts.
1. It is true I like beer and sausage more then TMS. Edge: TMS.
2. I move with the speed of a drunk mongoose with the speed of TWO drunken mongooses. Edge: Bunny.
3. Steve Perry is on my side. Edge: WAY Bunny.
4. TMS can see her feet. Edge: TMS.
5. I can see TMS's feet. Edge: Bunny.
6. TMS can recite every Supreme Justice ever born. Ever. Edge: Bunny (distraction by me.)
7. Bunny likes bacon. (ahh, the power of bacon.) Edge: Bunny.
Clearly, I would win by a score of 5-2. Of course, this does not factor in such elements as physical prowess or stamina, bu that doesn't matter.
Bacon rules us all in one form or another.
See you soon, monkeys.
1. It is true I like beer and sausage more then TMS. Edge: TMS.
2. I move with the speed of a drunk mongoose with the speed of TWO drunken mongooses. Edge: Bunny.
3. Steve Perry is on my side. Edge: WAY Bunny.
4. TMS can see her feet. Edge: TMS.
5. I can see TMS's feet. Edge: Bunny.
6. TMS can recite every Supreme Justice ever born. Ever. Edge: Bunny (distraction by me.)
7. Bunny likes bacon. (ahh, the power of bacon.) Edge: Bunny.
Clearly, I would win by a score of 5-2. Of course, this does not factor in such elements as physical prowess or stamina, bu that doesn't matter.
Bacon rules us all in one form or another.
See you soon, monkeys.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
I finally figured it out.
I always had a hard time articulating my love for baseball relative to football. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy football greatly, and follow it passionately when in season. I love my Pats, and the joyous barbeques they bring and cause.
But let's get one thing straight right now.
Football is no baseball, and it never will be. At least not for me.
For me, football is pablum when steak is not available. It is brown, when orange is sold out.
As I (frequently) get into battles with football fans, I usually fail miserably.
Untill now.
I have finally figured out a way to express my feelings for baseball versus football. Interestingly, it came to me in the form of a comparative statement. So, here it is.
My Baseball Comparative Statement
Baseball is to football as chess is to foxy boxing.
I think that works rather well. Of course, I invite all opinions on the matter.
Meanwhile, the Sox are 0-2, and Barry Fucking Bonds* is still roaming the planet, albeit on crutches (coincidence? Maybe Barry Fucking Bonds, as the piece of dog shit he is, is using the "injury" as time to allow his head to shrink back down to a normal human's head before resuming his pitiful subterfuge of denial.)
But I don't even care. I'll be in Boston soon (two days) hanging with the posse, awaiting Opening Day (fa-la-la-la-la-la-la) and the purchase of my shiny new jersey. (Who to get? I haven't decided.)
See you wacky cheeseburgers and hamburgers soon.
A.
But let's get one thing straight right now.
Football is no baseball, and it never will be. At least not for me.
For me, football is pablum when steak is not available. It is brown, when orange is sold out.
As I (frequently) get into battles with football fans, I usually fail miserably.
Untill now.
I have finally figured out a way to express my feelings for baseball versus football. Interestingly, it came to me in the form of a comparative statement. So, here it is.
My Baseball Comparative Statement
Baseball is to football as chess is to foxy boxing.
I think that works rather well. Of course, I invite all opinions on the matter.
Meanwhile, the Sox are 0-2, and Barry Fucking Bonds* is still roaming the planet, albeit on crutches (coincidence? Maybe Barry Fucking Bonds, as the piece of dog shit he is, is using the "injury" as time to allow his head to shrink back down to a normal human's head before resuming his pitiful subterfuge of denial.)
But I don't even care. I'll be in Boston soon (two days) hanging with the posse, awaiting Opening Day (fa-la-la-la-la-la-la) and the purchase of my shiny new jersey. (Who to get? I haven't decided.)
See you wacky cheeseburgers and hamburgers soon.
A.
A sad entry.
To Heather and Chuck;
I am truly sorry for the loss of your father. I can't begin to comprehend what that feels like; it scares me to know I will someday.
To everyone else;
Call your dad (and mom) and tell them you love them. Do it right now.
I am truly sorry for the loss of your father. I can't begin to comprehend what that feels like; it scares me to know I will someday.
To everyone else;
Call your dad (and mom) and tell them you love them. Do it right now.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Mine Eyes Hath Seen The Glory...
My God.
I just finished watching A League Of Thier Own.
My God.
I never realized how much of a perfect synthesis of all that is right in this world that movie is.
Baseball and chicks.
Chicks and baseball.
Chicks playing baseball.
Hot chicks playing baseball.
Hot chicks playing baseball in skirts!
My God.
And if you took out Rosie "Ima Guy" O'Donell and Madonna, they'd be Hella-hot chicks playing baseball in skirts.
Although, truth be told, I can think of one other cutie that would look hella-hot in one of dem dere outfits, and she'd make one hell of a second baseman. (I'd pay to see her hit fifth or sixth. My money's on .295/20/85, OPB .800 anyway; she's too swank to throw out.)
Now, excuse me whilst I go do just that.
11 days, 23 hours, 16 minutes until spring training.
Fuck....us!
I just finished watching A League Of Thier Own.
My God.
I never realized how much of a perfect synthesis of all that is right in this world that movie is.
Baseball and chicks.
Chicks and baseball.
Chicks playing baseball.
Hot chicks playing baseball.
Hot chicks playing baseball in skirts!
My God.
And if you took out Rosie "Ima Guy" O'Donell and Madonna, they'd be Hella-hot chicks playing baseball in skirts.
Although, truth be told, I can think of one other cutie that would look hella-hot in one of dem dere outfits, and she'd make one hell of a second baseman. (I'd pay to see her hit fifth or sixth. My money's on .295/20/85, OPB .800 anyway; she's too swank to throw out.)
Now, excuse me whilst I go do just that.
11 days, 23 hours, 16 minutes until spring training.
Fuck....us!
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
A treatise in self-doubt.
Hello, friends.
I am writing today to speak to an issue many feel uncomfortable talking about.
Yes, I'm speaking of the inner Steve Perry in us all.
I've gotten a really interesting smattering of responses from people regarding my Steve Perry test. Almost all have been positive, and I've really enjoyed watching people learn which SP they are. but, there are those that doubt. I guess I can understand this. And to those I say; don't be afraid. I know you question yourselves. I know you have concerns. But that's ok. Noone wants to learn more about themselves when that knowledge could compromise one's self-image.
I'm talking to you, Foxxe. Don't worry. Take the test, and have the courage to learn more about yourself than you thought possible.
And to others I say this; help me put the Foxxe at ease. Write to him. Comment on his blog. Let him know we will continue to love and respect him regardless of which Steve Perry is truly is.
We're here for you Foxxe.
I think Steve said it best when he penned Rubicon. Foxxe, here are the lyrics just for you. Garner strength from them, friend, and take the quiz.
We love you, Foxxe. Take a ride across the Rubicon, my friend; burning youth won't wait.
Rubicon
In this promised land
Fire burnin in our hands
The choice is ours to make
Realize your fantasy
You live the dream
With every step you take
Stand tall stand on the edge
Use the thin end of the wedge
The will to cast your fate
Don't turn around too late
Lose ground if we hesitate
Burning youth won't wait
Make a move across the rubicon
Futures knockin' at your door
Take your time
And choose the road you want
Opportunity is yours
See it all so clear
Time is right time is near
We know now what to do
All God's children learn
Which way to turn
Turning back we're through
We all refuse to lose
Live life and light the fuse
Burning youth won't wait
I am writing today to speak to an issue many feel uncomfortable talking about.
Yes, I'm speaking of the inner Steve Perry in us all.
I've gotten a really interesting smattering of responses from people regarding my Steve Perry test. Almost all have been positive, and I've really enjoyed watching people learn which SP they are. but, there are those that doubt. I guess I can understand this. And to those I say; don't be afraid. I know you question yourselves. I know you have concerns. But that's ok. Noone wants to learn more about themselves when that knowledge could compromise one's self-image.
I'm talking to you, Foxxe. Don't worry. Take the test, and have the courage to learn more about yourself than you thought possible.
And to others I say this; help me put the Foxxe at ease. Write to him. Comment on his blog. Let him know we will continue to love and respect him regardless of which Steve Perry is truly is.
We're here for you Foxxe.
I think Steve said it best when he penned Rubicon. Foxxe, here are the lyrics just for you. Garner strength from them, friend, and take the quiz.
We love you, Foxxe. Take a ride across the Rubicon, my friend; burning youth won't wait.
Rubicon
In this promised land
Fire burnin in our hands
The choice is ours to make
Realize your fantasy
You live the dream
With every step you take
Stand tall stand on the edge
Use the thin end of the wedge
The will to cast your fate
Don't turn around too late
Lose ground if we hesitate
Burning youth won't wait
Make a move across the rubicon
Futures knockin' at your door
Take your time
And choose the road you want
Opportunity is yours
See it all so clear
Time is right time is near
We know now what to do
All God's children learn
Which way to turn
Turning back we're through
We all refuse to lose
Live life and light the fuse
Burning youth won't wait
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
It's about friggin' time.
Everyone, stop what you are doing and take this test right now. I designed it to bring out the truth in everyone. Actually, all it does it show you what you already know.
Good luck!
Good luck!
Sunday, February 06, 2005
The best of something or another...
Yeah, I've lived a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit. Okay, a lot.
And what have I seen? What has life been gracious enough to show me, and divinity been kind enough to allow me to see it and appreciate it for what it is?
Well, let's just think about that, shall we?
What is the greatest x you've ever encountered or experienced?
I'll tell you what...I'll start. Then, I implore you to speak up; enthrall me with your acumen into your own lives.
Let's root around the dank, stale basements of our pasts and dust off those artifacts that shine the brightest in spite of the crust of funk the daily grind applies with a frightening speed...
The Best Wine I've Ever Drank Straight From the Bottle: 1998 Bernard Morey Grand Cru Batard-Montrachet. (Flippin' brilliant wine, even from the bottle.)
The Best Comfort Food I've Ever Had: Easy one; smack n' cheese with bits of hot dog in it.
The Best Temperature I've Ever Felt: 78 degrees fahrenheit, while basking on a beach in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
The Best Rock Concert I've Ever Attended: The Who, 2001, at the Tweeter Center in MA. It was soon after John Entwistle died of an overdose, so the band was kinda sad, but completely committed to providing a kick-ass show in his honor. If you've never heard a six-minute live introduction to Eminence Front, you have not lived, my friends.
The Best Beer I've Ever Had: Pete's Wicked Winter Brew. A retardedly yummy blend of beer, raspberries, and nutmeg. If they had added oral sex and sirloin steak to the recipe, I would have to have killed myself out of sheer recognition that life would simply never get any better.
The Best Snack Food I've Ever Had: Andy Capp's Pub Fries. They no longer make them. They were like Bugles, only with a rockstar factor of about twelve. So, of course, they discontinue them and risk evoking my ire. (Note to self: cut them. Cut them all.)
The Best Bullshit Excuse For Not Calling Me I've Ever Heard: "I'm sorry I didn't call. I was in Times Square and couldn't find a pay phone."
Ok, now it's your turn. And be creative. Favorite songs, movies, et al are great but somewhat mundane, eh? Let's drop trou and get to the nitty-gritty!
And what have I seen? What has life been gracious enough to show me, and divinity been kind enough to allow me to see it and appreciate it for what it is?
Well, let's just think about that, shall we?
What is the greatest x you've ever encountered or experienced?
I'll tell you what...I'll start. Then, I implore you to speak up; enthrall me with your acumen into your own lives.
Let's root around the dank, stale basements of our pasts and dust off those artifacts that shine the brightest in spite of the crust of funk the daily grind applies with a frightening speed...
The Best Wine I've Ever Drank Straight From the Bottle: 1998 Bernard Morey Grand Cru Batard-Montrachet. (Flippin' brilliant wine, even from the bottle.)
The Best Comfort Food I've Ever Had: Easy one; smack n' cheese with bits of hot dog in it.
The Best Temperature I've Ever Felt: 78 degrees fahrenheit, while basking on a beach in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
The Best Rock Concert I've Ever Attended: The Who, 2001, at the Tweeter Center in MA. It was soon after John Entwistle died of an overdose, so the band was kinda sad, but completely committed to providing a kick-ass show in his honor. If you've never heard a six-minute live introduction to Eminence Front, you have not lived, my friends.
The Best Beer I've Ever Had: Pete's Wicked Winter Brew. A retardedly yummy blend of beer, raspberries, and nutmeg. If they had added oral sex and sirloin steak to the recipe, I would have to have killed myself out of sheer recognition that life would simply never get any better.
The Best Snack Food I've Ever Had: Andy Capp's Pub Fries. They no longer make them. They were like Bugles, only with a rockstar factor of about twelve. So, of course, they discontinue them and risk evoking my ire. (Note to self: cut them. Cut them all.)
The Best Bullshit Excuse For Not Calling Me I've Ever Heard: "I'm sorry I didn't call. I was in Times Square and couldn't find a pay phone."
Ok, now it's your turn. And be creative. Favorite songs, movies, et al are great but somewhat mundane, eh? Let's drop trou and get to the nitty-gritty!
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
The Greatest Opening Lines.
Sometimes, I find myself experiencing an opening line to a book, song, or poem that is wonderous. And, since I know you little monkeys have opinions on the matter, I figured I'd open the floor up. I'll start it off with some entries (in no particular order.)
"Call me Ishmael"
-Moby Dick, Herman Melville
"Wasting away the hours that make up a lonely day/
fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way"
-Time, Pink Floyd
"Dearly beloved,
We are gathered here today
2 get through this thing called life"
-Let's Get Crazy, Prince
"Call me Ishmael"
-Moby Dick, Herman Melville
"Wasting away the hours that make up a lonely day/
fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way"
-Time, Pink Floyd
"Dearly beloved,
We are gathered here today
2 get through this thing called life"
-Let's Get Crazy, Prince
Naptown Dandy (or, New Character brings it.)
This just in... (not really)
New Character came to Naptown last weekend. The mission? To bring it to a whole new level.
Boy howdy.
A few first-period cocktails at 14F, then off to the local for a night of sippy-sippy and guy-spying for NC. We introduced her around a bit, and she took to the skies. many drinks later, she was getting felt-up on the dance floor, and invited to birthday parties.
Well done, madam. Well done.
New Character came to Naptown last weekend. The mission? To bring it to a whole new level.
Boy howdy.
A few first-period cocktails at 14F, then off to the local for a night of sippy-sippy and guy-spying for NC. We introduced her around a bit, and she took to the skies. many drinks later, she was getting felt-up on the dance floor, and invited to birthday parties.
Well done, madam. Well done.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Before I forget...
Here is a transcript of Master Clark's New Year's Eve Speech. As with last year, he chickened out at the last moment, and only I got to hear the speach. I coaxed the paper from his hand, as all should have access to the speech. So, here it is. (If you like, imagine yourself all dolled up and buzzed for effect.)
Clark Madden's 2005 New Year's Eve Speech
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen; let me first thank our kind hosts at 14 Fleet. The standard for parties here was already very high; but I think we can agree this one shatters all previous records.
Speaking of parties past, Adam kindly asked me to offer the toast last year, and I actually wrote one, but I chickened out at the last moment. Now, however, fortified by a small washbasin of excellent martinis and the events of the year, I hope I am ready to embark.
I considered a number of different approaches; an Annapolis-themed parody of War of the Worlds, a Donald Rumsfeld-style Q&A session, a discussion of the election to be entitled "What the Expletive Happened?" But, ultimately, I couldn't make any of them work. I was temped to recycle last year's "The Year That Was" format, but instead, in keeping with the party's theme I respectfully submit our "Year That Will Be: A Vision of Annapolis in 2015."
Much of this glimmering city of the future remains familiar; the State House, the ridiculously overpowered and unimaginative private motor yachts and parking, even of hover cars, continues to suck. But much has changed too; and entire "Escape From New York"-style district has sprung around the ruins of the old Mexican Cafe and only those actually able to breathe magnificant bathtub tequila dare enter to forage for Huevos Rancheros and barter for illicit Parliaments, the only cigarette available.
Polar melting has submerged much of City Dock, and the construction of seventy-two new circles, a project begun in 2006 and still largely incomplete, make accessing the city center harder than it's been in a hundred years. One building clings tenaciously to life in the waters off State Circle; a lively underwater cantina, known simply as "14 F." There atop nimble robot bodies are the heads of Centamore, (sic), and Marshall, immersed in sweet, delicious liquor hosting parties and thrilling the younger guests with stories of a time before Astrolounge (TM, 2010) became a household name.
This concludes our tour of Annapolee 2105, home of the nation's largest interstellar boat show. Thank you for indulging me; to 2005, happiness, prosperity, and two o'clock licenses for all.
Happy New Year.
Clark Madden's 2005 New Year's Eve Speech
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen; let me first thank our kind hosts at 14 Fleet. The standard for parties here was already very high; but I think we can agree this one shatters all previous records.
Speaking of parties past, Adam kindly asked me to offer the toast last year, and I actually wrote one, but I chickened out at the last moment. Now, however, fortified by a small washbasin of excellent martinis and the events of the year, I hope I am ready to embark.
I considered a number of different approaches; an Annapolis-themed parody of War of the Worlds, a Donald Rumsfeld-style Q&A session, a discussion of the election to be entitled "What the Expletive Happened?" But, ultimately, I couldn't make any of them work. I was temped to recycle last year's "The Year That Was" format, but instead, in keeping with the party's theme I respectfully submit our "Year That Will Be: A Vision of Annapolis in 2015."
Much of this glimmering city of the future remains familiar; the State House, the ridiculously overpowered and unimaginative private motor yachts and parking, even of hover cars, continues to suck. But much has changed too; and entire "Escape From New York"-style district has sprung around the ruins of the old Mexican Cafe and only those actually able to breathe magnificant bathtub tequila dare enter to forage for Huevos Rancheros and barter for illicit Parliaments, the only cigarette available.
Polar melting has submerged much of City Dock, and the construction of seventy-two new circles, a project begun in 2006 and still largely incomplete, make accessing the city center harder than it's been in a hundred years. One building clings tenaciously to life in the waters off State Circle; a lively underwater cantina, known simply as "14 F." There atop nimble robot bodies are the heads of Centamore, (sic), and Marshall, immersed in sweet, delicious liquor hosting parties and thrilling the younger guests with stories of a time before Astrolounge (TM, 2010) became a household name.
This concludes our tour of Annapolee 2105, home of the nation's largest interstellar boat show. Thank you for indulging me; to 2005, happiness, prosperity, and two o'clock licenses for all.
Happy New Year.
Monday, January 31, 2005
HEED THIS WARNING, CHICKEN FUCKERS.
If ANYONE, repeat ANYONE, EVER gets me this for ANY occassion EVER (!) I will HUNT your ass down and I...will...CUT...YOU.
Thank you for your attention in these matters.
Thank you for your attention in these matters.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
The Costs of Doing Business with The Foxxe.
Ok. We need to talk.
The Foxxe's reaction to my op-ed piece on his manse was, I think, misguided. Let me refresh your memories...
I wrote a delightful satirical piece on Dan's Mansion, and included some of his most fervent fans. Sure, I took the liberty of doing so in a light-hearted "Medieval" tongue, but what the heck? He wanted to keep the drawbridge up all the time!
his response?
"Oh, for shame! And oh how the mighty have fallen. Once the Bunny roamed the frozen wastes of the Greater Quincy area and neither rain nor sleet nor snow would keep him from his appointed rounds. Now he quivers in fear at the thought of a mere four inches of snow.The Land of Pleasant Living has made you soft and weak, oh fretful Bunny. You must be... corrected."
Soft and weak? SOFT AND WEAK?
Ahem.
My dear friend Dan, may I be the first to assure you I am neither soft nor weak. My reluctance to sojurn into the snowy day was not for want to do so, nor was it 'fear' of the snow. Unfortunately, you seem to forget the utter lack of quality snow response is here; they have none. Four inches to them shuts things down. (Case in point: it snowed two inches yesterday, and half the town closed mid-day.) They don't know how to deal with it. And DC, believe it or not, is actually worse. (TMS, Whisky, Josh, back me up here.)
As far as "correcting me", well my friend, the Rockstar sayeth...
...bring it on, bitch.
(See you next week! I am ALL sorts of fired up.)
(For those not in the know, The Foxxe is comin' to town next weekend. Word.)
The Foxxe's reaction to my op-ed piece on his manse was, I think, misguided. Let me refresh your memories...
I wrote a delightful satirical piece on Dan's Mansion, and included some of his most fervent fans. Sure, I took the liberty of doing so in a light-hearted "Medieval" tongue, but what the heck? He wanted to keep the drawbridge up all the time!
his response?
"Oh, for shame! And oh how the mighty have fallen. Once the Bunny roamed the frozen wastes of the Greater Quincy area and neither rain nor sleet nor snow would keep him from his appointed rounds. Now he quivers in fear at the thought of a mere four inches of snow.The Land of Pleasant Living has made you soft and weak, oh fretful Bunny. You must be... corrected."
Soft and weak? SOFT AND WEAK?
Ahem.
My dear friend Dan, may I be the first to assure you I am neither soft nor weak. My reluctance to sojurn into the snowy day was not for want to do so, nor was it 'fear' of the snow. Unfortunately, you seem to forget the utter lack of quality snow response is here; they have none. Four inches to them shuts things down. (Case in point: it snowed two inches yesterday, and half the town closed mid-day.) They don't know how to deal with it. And DC, believe it or not, is actually worse. (TMS, Whisky, Josh, back me up here.)
As far as "correcting me", well my friend, the Rockstar sayeth...
...bring it on, bitch.
(See you next week! I am ALL sorts of fired up.)
(For those not in the know, The Foxxe is comin' to town next weekend. Word.)
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
A Commentary on "A Man's Home."
The Foxxe wishes a manse akin to this. Who can blame him? I would love it, and I don't really like large abodes. In this manner, I find my opinions commensurate with TSF.
From there out, we differ. Whereas Dan feels he would comport himself in a regal, medieval manner towards those who visited (denying all that refuse to address him in a particular lexicon), methinks the interactions would be more like this...
Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part I (...or, the Princess approaches)
Heather approaches the upraised drawbridge, scans it over for a moment, and calls to Dan.
Heather: Dan! I'm here. Open up.
Dan: Callst me Lord of the Manor, and I shalst lettith you in, fair maiden!
H: Ha ha. Open the fucking door.
D: Whoist thinketh thine isethed? Darest you speaketh to me in sucheth a manor(eth)?
H: No, me thinketh if you don'teth open thine friggin' doorst, thy will findeth my foot in thine ass.
D: A parlay it is then! Knave! Openth the gate!
Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part II (...or, rock you like a Bunnycane.)
I apporach the castle (all the while, learning how to spell "approach,") and call to Dan.
Adam: Dan-o! You magnificant bastard! Open up!
Dan: Hark! Doeth mine ears tell me truly? Is thateth the Bunnyethest?
A: Yep. Open up.
D: I can'st doeth thateth, my goodly friendst. Thine are awarest of the rules of thiseth fine castle?
A: (no response)
D: Speaketh, goodly sir!
A: (no response)
Dan looks over the edge of the wall, and sees me sitting on the ground drinking a High Life from the case I brought, flipping him the bird.
D: A parlay it is, then! Knave! Openeth the gate!
Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part III (...or, gee, I hope it doesn't stain!)
Snuggles drives up in his pickup truck. Parking out front, he unloads the portable meat smoker from the bed. Grabbing his porta-cooler, he calls to Dan.
Snuggles: Dan! Open up! I'm eatin' corn!
Dan: Willsteth keepeth thine voice downeth? Mine neighbors areth nosy!
Snuggles: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Dan: Knave! Openeth the gate!
Snuggles: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Oh, shit(eth)! Sorry, Dan, I got some
barbeque sauce on your door! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Dan: Cometh in, good sir, and leaveth some of the joy and pork ribs you bringst with you!
Snuggles: WHOOOP! WHOOOP! BOOBIES! Here, have a rib.
Dan: Methinks theseth are the finest ribs thou hast hadeth since morns goneth by!
Snuggles: Are you ok, Dan? Are you RETAHDED or somethin'? When's the game on?
Dan: Goodly friendeth, kindly useth mine "Bounty" brand paper towelseth, as thine are getting rib bits on myst coucheth.
Snuggles: You got the remote? The Sox are on.
Dan: Sigh(eth)(est).
Yeah, that seems much more like it. Good luck, Dan. And a bit of advice; put plastic over the really classy stuff...party at your house.
From there out, we differ. Whereas Dan feels he would comport himself in a regal, medieval manner towards those who visited (denying all that refuse to address him in a particular lexicon), methinks the interactions would be more like this...
Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part I (...or, the Princess approaches)
Heather approaches the upraised drawbridge, scans it over for a moment, and calls to Dan.
Heather: Dan! I'm here. Open up.
Dan: Callst me Lord of the Manor, and I shalst lettith you in, fair maiden!
H: Ha ha. Open the fucking door.
D: Whoist thinketh thine isethed? Darest you speaketh to me in sucheth a manor(eth)?
H: No, me thinketh if you don'teth open thine friggin' doorst, thy will findeth my foot in thine ass.
D: A parlay it is then! Knave! Openth the gate!
Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part II (...or, rock you like a Bunnycane.)
I apporach the castle (all the while, learning how to spell "approach,") and call to Dan.
Adam: Dan-o! You magnificant bastard! Open up!
Dan: Hark! Doeth mine ears tell me truly? Is thateth the Bunnyethest?
A: Yep. Open up.
D: I can'st doeth thateth, my goodly friendst. Thine are awarest of the rules of thiseth fine castle?
A: (no response)
D: Speaketh, goodly sir!
A: (no response)
Dan looks over the edge of the wall, and sees me sitting on the ground drinking a High Life from the case I brought, flipping him the bird.
D: A parlay it is, then! Knave! Openeth the gate!
Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part III (...or, gee, I hope it doesn't stain!)
Snuggles drives up in his pickup truck. Parking out front, he unloads the portable meat smoker from the bed. Grabbing his porta-cooler, he calls to Dan.
Snuggles: Dan! Open up! I'm eatin' corn!
Dan: Willsteth keepeth thine voice downeth? Mine neighbors areth nosy!
Snuggles: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Dan: Knave! Openeth the gate!
Snuggles: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Oh, shit(eth)! Sorry, Dan, I got some
barbeque sauce on your door! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Dan: Cometh in, good sir, and leaveth some of the joy and pork ribs you bringst with you!
Snuggles: WHOOOP! WHOOOP! BOOBIES! Here, have a rib.
Dan: Methinks theseth are the finest ribs thou hast hadeth since morns goneth by!
Snuggles: Are you ok, Dan? Are you RETAHDED or somethin'? When's the game on?
Dan: Goodly friendeth, kindly useth mine "Bounty" brand paper towelseth, as thine are getting rib bits on myst coucheth.
Snuggles: You got the remote? The Sox are on.
Dan: Sigh(eth)(est).
Yeah, that seems much more like it. Good luck, Dan. And a bit of advice; put plastic over the really classy stuff...party at your house.
Monday, January 24, 2005
Into the breach once more...
Howdy, monkeys.
How you been?
Since I last wrote, many interesting thinks have crossed my stars. Many indeed. Of note...
1. I am amidst a 'career change' at the moment.
2. The Pats are returning to their 3rd Super Bowl in four years in a couple of weeks.
3. I haven't summoned up the courage to fight my non-existant heroin addiction.
4. I have a tête-à-tête over raw fish coming up with a most delightful unofficial singer.
5. I still have two (count 'em, two) testicles.
6. I'm catching a fair amount of flack over my lack of entries.
My apologies to all. It's been a VERY interesting 2005 thus far, and if these first few weeks are plotting any kind of a graph for the rest of the year, I submit the following odds for your considerations.
Odds & Event
10:1
Rampant, drunk jackaloupe holds me at gunpoint while humping
my leg and calling me "Tess."
77:1
Inexplicably, NASA calls me asking for advice on how to properly
perform a competent azimuth calibration while riding a train. Even
more inexplicably, I happen to know the answer.
4:1
One of you will receive a call from me seeing if you know the whereabouts of either my dignity, my kidneys, or my autographed picture of the cast from Gilligan's Island. These odds include the likelihood of their having run off together.
1,375,999:2
I trick a beautful woman into dating me, and she somehow overlooks my proclivity for being an utter jackass.
34,632,867,234:1
At some point she (willingly) gives it up for the home team (ooh! bet on this one! You'll win $34.6 billion dollars for each dollar you bet! Foxxe, this can pay for the bar we always wanted. Can you say "black and ham"?)
17:1
I will conquer the whole "light without heat" argument, and go on to win the Nobel Peace Prize for Pie Eating.
81:3
Hollywood digititizes my likeness and re-masters an episode of Knight Rider to include me driving next to Kit in the Trans-Am from Smokey and the Bandit. I would have a catch phrase like, "Hey, muffins, drop that hat!", or, "Smellin' fine, baby, what's your face?"
107:1
I survive to turn 35.
yep, sure is going to be interesting.
How you been?
Since I last wrote, many interesting thinks have crossed my stars. Many indeed. Of note...
1. I am amidst a 'career change' at the moment.
2. The Pats are returning to their 3rd Super Bowl in four years in a couple of weeks.
3. I haven't summoned up the courage to fight my non-existant heroin addiction.
4. I have a tête-à-tête over raw fish coming up with a most delightful unofficial singer.
5. I still have two (count 'em, two) testicles.
6. I'm catching a fair amount of flack over my lack of entries.
My apologies to all. It's been a VERY interesting 2005 thus far, and if these first few weeks are plotting any kind of a graph for the rest of the year, I submit the following odds for your considerations.
Odds & Event
10:1
Rampant, drunk jackaloupe holds me at gunpoint while humping
my leg and calling me "Tess."
77:1
Inexplicably, NASA calls me asking for advice on how to properly
perform a competent azimuth calibration while riding a train. Even
more inexplicably, I happen to know the answer.
4:1
One of you will receive a call from me seeing if you know the whereabouts of either my dignity, my kidneys, or my autographed picture of the cast from Gilligan's Island. These odds include the likelihood of their having run off together.
1,375,999:2
I trick a beautful woman into dating me, and she somehow overlooks my proclivity for being an utter jackass.
34,632,867,234:1
At some point she (willingly) gives it up for the home team (ooh! bet on this one! You'll win $34.6 billion dollars for each dollar you bet! Foxxe, this can pay for the bar we always wanted. Can you say "black and ham"?)
17:1
I will conquer the whole "light without heat" argument, and go on to win the Nobel Peace Prize for Pie Eating.
81:3
Hollywood digititizes my likeness and re-masters an episode of Knight Rider to include me driving next to Kit in the Trans-Am from Smokey and the Bandit. I would have a catch phrase like, "Hey, muffins, drop that hat!", or, "Smellin' fine, baby, what's your face?"
107:1
I survive to turn 35.
yep, sure is going to be interesting.
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