I see you've been in the pool, dear.

"You call that a salute? I've seen week old goat entrails with more life to 'em!"

Started out this morning with plans for another full-blown art post. Then I found this on a google search for "Athene." Ahhh, the comic possibilities of random google searches.

IDEA: Shall I open it up to a 'caption this' contest? For those so inclined, you can caption this picture in the comments. I won't post a 'winner' or award prizes or anything. But what the hell...something to do, anyway.

Feeling very unforgiving today. Mostly of myself, for gaining a couple of pounds. Since the move, I have not been working out regularly, (must get TV hooked up in workout room or it's just not gonna happen!) and with the winter weather finally here, I've been eating nothing but cheese and pasta. But I'm all for deflecting some of my bad, fat energy. So don't put any pictures of badly dressed, orange-skinned celebrities with bad haircuts in front of me.

OOPS! TOO LATE! Mr. Weller has evidently run afoul of a hedge trimmer and a tube of something awful. Paul! Stop it at once! Here's a coupon, go and get a haircut more suitable for a man your age. There's a good boy.

Tough Bunny!

Ignore the hillbilly voice over. Lest anyone think us rabbits aren't 'ard ones.






Any of you fuck'n snakes got anything to say?

Thought not.

While we're on the subject of religious nutjobs

Here’s this Laura Mallory woman, the Bible thumping moron down in Georgia who keeps going to court to have the Harry Potter books banned in local school libraries. By her own admission, she has not actually bothered to read* the books, yet claims that they indoctrinate children into Wicca.**

Juuuuuust …a little unfamiliar with the concept of FICTION, are we?

Jesus Christ Almighty.

She’s been shot down so many times, and rightly so, by local courts, and yet, like a pimple on the arse of progress, she keeps coming back to further embarrass herself and try it again. Even after she’s been called by the Washington Post “2006 IDIOT OF THE YEAR.”

I don’t know, a title like that would make me crawl back into my warren and not come out again until someone new makes the idiot list and the spotlight is on them. Or at least do a little self-examination and try to figure out just-what-they-mean-by-that.

What we really have here is a woman so afraid of an opposing viewpoint or differing set of values or lifestyles, that she wants to transform her whole little world into a place where she never has to come in contact with anything that doesn’t jive with her dogmatic rules for life. You don’t like it? Don't simply make it go away. You must also, evidently, make it inaccessible to everyone else, too. Because what Laura Mallory deems as wrong or evil, we are all also bound to consider wrong and evil.

You insane, selfish, stupid, joyless cow.

Frankly, I don't see the difference between kids reading Harry Potter and thinking they can do magic and children reading the Bible and thinking virgins give birth and carpenters get resurrected. She talks about the HP books containing blood sacrifice, satanic ritual, violence, etc. Well, I have news for this bimbo: The Bible is JAM PACKED with absolutely HORRIFYING tales of voilence, murder and mayhem. Example: That Lot character was a despicable old man, who offered up his own daughters to be RAPED, rather than let anyone think he was a bad host. Then he goes off into the mountains and impregnates those same daughters himself. Disgusting.

You know what? Even if the HP books DO lead children to experiment with witchcraft…I say let them experiment. It’s a phase that won’t last long, and the children (who have notoriously short attention spans) will move on to other things after they actually try to ‘cast a spell’ and then...of course...

...wait for it...

NOTHING. FUCKING. HAPPENS.

(*I think she said the reason she has not read the books is that they’re ‘too long,’ though most children tend to read them in the course of a day or two…huh. I think she’s just a little bit afraid she might actually enjoy herself. These evangelical Christians are just so anti-fun.)

(**...and what's wrong with Wicca anyway? Just a bunch of fat old hippies with hairy armpits, worshipping nature, dressing like Stevie Nicks and burning incense. Seems pretty harmless to me. At least part of their system of belief has something to do with taking care of the bloody planet, and leaving other people alone to worship or not, as they please. I mean...sure, a few may join covens hoping to get laid, but there's no harm in that, that I can see.)

Τέχνη της Νίκαιας.

Rough translation: Nice art.

Actually took a class in Homeric Greek a few years ago, as well as Latin, thinking that I would eventually get a master's degree and become a Medieval scholar. One of the many things I considered doing with my life and education over the years that, sadly, never really panned out. Other fields in which I considered doing graduate work include, but are not limited to: Library Science, Archaeology, Education Administration, various modern languages...and a few others I can't think of right now. Trouble is, I am interested in SO MUCH STUFF, but not enough to spend all that money and time on any one field in particular. A year or two on one thing, and I start casting about for the 'next thing.'

Jack of all trades, master of...whatever hasn't bored me yet...

I have my wee Bachelor's Degree in English -- cum laude, despite working full time throughout my college years and being a full-time barfly to boot, thank you very much -- and that'll just have to be it. I have a job that doesn't make me want to kill myself when the alarm goes off every day, and that's better than a lot of people my age can say. So...so be it.

Anyway, apropos of nothing, I read this on the bus on the way to work, and I laughed out loud:

"But nobody ever saw Sonny Liston in a fucking dashiki." - Nick Tosches

Sweet.

Ren & Stimpy - The Movie

No need for a casting call. I got your Ren right here.

God DAMN that is one ugly dog.

What the hell. While I'm at it, let's cast Stimpy.

Stupid Banana Survey

I signed up to do some of these on-line surveys about various stuff. Mostly it's new products or improvements on existing products. Kind of like a focus group type thing, only it's something I can do at work, with no one knowing that I'm not exactly doing "work."

Anyway, you get a certain amount of points for each survey completed, which can be redeemed for various products or money, or you can donate them to charity. Hell, it's no trouble to tell someone that I do X number of loads of laundry per week, and what cleaning products I use, how often I do groceries, etc.

Hey, looking busy at work is a very important adult skill.

But I just spent 20 minutes doing an on-line survey about this new product, plastic packaging that claims to keep bananas fresh for a WHOLE WEEK. Even after I said, in the first dialogue box that opened, that I thought it was a STUPID ASS IDEA, as bananas are perfectly FINE for a week or so anyway, and when they get old you make banana bread, dumbass, and that products like this only increase plastic packaging with a half life going into landfills, and are so completely useless that I think the inventor needs to be taken out and shot - or at least given something productive to do with his time, like, maybe bash his head against the wall at the factory or something - the survey continued with a million questions about how important it is that my bananas are fresh longer, and are perfect EVERY TIME.

Listen, a banana is a fucking banana. It's perfectly fine to have a bruise or two, and when I run out, or toss a few because they're brown and shriveled, it's no big deal. I don't run to the supermarket the second I run out of ripe bananas. I don't think, "FUCK, we are OUT of perfect, ripe, tasty bananas! HOW IN GOD'S NAME DID THIS HAPPEN !!!!????"

20 Goddamn minutes clicking the radio buttons under, "not important at all" for every one of the 200 questions about my thoughts on having the perfect banana at hand, at all times. That's 20 minutes of my life I'll never get back.

And you know what? I wasn't done. I just exited about two thirds of the way through because, even though I'm 65 points away from having them send me a check for a hundred bucks, and that was the EXACT amount of points I would have gotten for completing the survey, I couldn't frigging STAND it any longer.

It was even worse than the laundry survey, where they showed me pictures of random women, and I was asked to fill in the blanks on how they felt about doing their laundry.

"Pleased that she'd done her best for her family." "Happy to be done so she can go do other things." "Proud that she'd chosen X detergent and fabric softeners, and pleased that her family's clothes now show her family in their best light."

You think I'm kidding? Jesus Christ. I assure you, I am not.

And now, since I just bored YOU to tears as I have been with this useless, stupid, bullshit, I just stumbled on this. I love old Mart, don't you?

Grudges

I hold grudges. I know it's unhealthy, does no one any good, keeps me from moving on from bad experiences, all that stuff. I guess I have some work to do in that area. I never claimed to be particularly highly evolved spiritually - I'm not perfect and I'm certainly no saint.

But would you believe I can still work up the energy to be pissed off about stuff that happened YEARS ago, and I'm still absolutely rip-roaringly FURIOUS about some stuff that happened just last year? Is it self-righteousness that makes me do this? Maybe this needs examination. At least I'm OPEN to self-examination. Unlike SOME.

See? I keep doing it!

Not healthy. Not good. I should just move on. But here I am, still, in my head, composing SPEECHES to people who've wronged me, or wronged people close to me, or wronged themselves and blamed me for their own insecurities, or are just selfish, crazy, humorless, self-pitying assholes.

Harrumph. Maybe I need a new hobby.

Anyway - new attitudes may have to be adopted and old grudges dropped into the dumpster-of-fuckee-offee. After all, it's a new year, good things are happening. I'm working hard, have been starting to taste the rewards of my hard work and all that with the new house and plans for improvement there, and it's FRIDAY, and nothing is separating me from a nice dinner and drinks and yuks with good friends but a few hours of rather easy, kinda brainless work. Which I seem to be avoiding by doing a blog post about absolutely nothing, really...

Le sigh...

BOOZE!!!

What'd you say booze for?

...I panicked.

And the pints, they go down in the usual way...

Ho hum.

Lindsay Lohan is in rehab.

Oooooookkkkkaaaaaaayyyyyyy.

Who is she again? Some young actress with more money for drugs than talent or taste?

She is a celebrity, ergo, she will have her stint in rehab.

I'm not surprised. And I don't even care. The only reason I mention it is that it's ALL OVER THE FUCKING MEDIA TODAY, AS IF WE DON'T HAVE ANYTHING IMPORTANT TO WORRY ABOUT.

Celebrity news. Fuck off.

Winter is here...

...and thank God I have a truck, and know of some neighborhoods in Watertown that don't have resident only parking. One bus is bad enough. If I'd had to wait for TWO buses in a -5 windchill, I'd be a very, very miserable bunny. So let's hope:

1. Someone with too much time on his hands and not enough REAL problems in his life doesn't get angry that I'm parked in front of his house - even though it's NOT resident only, and I didn't block anyone's driveway, so I'm perfectly within my rights to park there as there isn't a snow emergency or anything - and leave a nasty note on my windshield ...or worse.

2. That if I exercise this commuting option with any frequency I won't just forget where I put the damn thing when it's time for my commute home.



Yes, evidently, in a past life, I was a euphemism for cunt.

You Were a Beaver

You are able to get things done, through persistence and innovation. Success and productivity are what make you happy in life.

What Animal Were You In a Past Life?

Happy Birthday, Doc!

Leading a Completely Inane Existence. And YOU?

Okay, a few things to report about the new house and commute and stuff.

Firstly, the 70 bus from Waltham to Watertown Square? Miiiiiiight just be another one of the MBTA bus lines for which the word schedule may always have to appear in quotes. Too early to tell, of course, but today's commute tested what little patience I have for inefficiency and bad service.

Also, I had a lot of trouble Wednesday night, coming home from the Celtics game. (Why, yes, I DO know the C's suck.) Waited in Central Square, in the cold, needing to pee, FOR A FULL 45 MINUTES for the 70 bus, which never came. I was there 20 minutes early for the 10:05, which, evidently, was lost in another dimension, before someone told me that the next one wasn't for a full 35 minutes more. At 10:30, informed that the next bus wouldn't come until 11:05, I decided to spend 30 bucks (which, now that there's a mortgage in the picture, I can't really afford to blow) on a cab. I left the game in the third quarter to get home at a decent hour, and ended up walking in the door at 11pm.

Now, that's 50% of the time I've taken this bus line, it has sucked. Utterly. Okay, NOTHING can be as bad as the 86 bus from Cleveland Circle to Cambridge/Somerville/parts unknown, which is consistently AWFUL 100% of the time, and has been forever, and one bad morning, and one bad evening, does not a shit-commute make. But the 70 now has something to prove to me.

(Also, Wednesday night, I had a great deal of trouble using my Charlie Card on the red line getting downtown and back. So, the MBTA also needs to redeem itself for the half-assedly managed change to the Charlie Card system, and prove to me the fare increase is justified. Because right now, I'm thinking Charlie is a fucking dick.)

In other news, because of the new house, I have drifted into the arena of the incredibly mundane. All my brainpower, when not at work, is focused entirely on unpacking, organizing, decorating...God help me...window treatments and upholstery patterns. I think...yes...I THINK I may be turning into a...a GIRL!

Hence, not much has crossed my mind that's bloggable. Which is my excuse for the silence and lack of bile. I've been just looking forward to the long weekend (I have Monday off for MLK day), buying a few more much-needed sticks of furniture, getting really settled in, and finding the boxes containing:


The phone
The note pad with our new phone number
The Vodka
The rest of my underwear


So, with any luck, normal bitch-service will resume once I find my shit.

Cheers, to all my lovely, faithful, long-suffering readers. And I hope everyone's weekend is as productive and cathartic as mine should be.

Faaaaahhhhhkkkkkkkin' 'Ell!

We'd better not ever, EVER outgrow this damn hoose, because I hope I NEVER have to move again.

How do two completely unmaterialistic people collect so much fucking SHIT, that it takes a day with professional movers, and then multiple trips back to the old place over the next week, with our own vehicles, to get fully OUT of the apartment, and into the new digs with a sense of completion and closure?

We should have chucked everything but the bar, TV's, pint glasses and cats, and just had a salvage company come and get the rest. This is sick. SICK, I tell you.

I hate everything we own.

That enough Bile for you, Ms. Cat?