Horse's Ass Pub

Lean/Mean/Hellbentforleather/Maybe

2012-01-03T09:19:00.002-05:00

Well now, Happy New Year!

JEEBUS though, I am most definitely in need of a fresh start after the last couple of months. Even before the holiday break got going, the unhealthy living was in full swing. Too much drink, not enough exercise, not enough sun, too much bad food, too much being out of the warren. No wonder I was being such a lapin grincheux.

But listen, I made it this far without catching some awful little bastard of a bug, so I'm still ahead of the game. Honestly can't remember the last time we entered the Christmas vacation week without either me or SPOUSE being sick in some way. So there's that. Besides a few extra pounds, living the lifestyle of a barfly (or my 25 year old self) has only left one other mark upon me - an angry pimply passenger has just in the last two days taken up residence on my upper lip. Massive, red, painful stinger, just sitting there, mocking me. (Aren't you glad you've checked in here today?) Must admit I earned it, but I shall have to resist the urge to pop it, see if I can get rid of it by ignoring it - though that is difficult as it has its own zip code, AND I think it just whispered something.

Oh, shit.

So, to borrow a meme from Sassy, holiday break adds up this way:

Rested - plus 3
No cold or flu - plus 3
Weight gain from holiday foods - minus 2
Gigantic zit - minus 3
Got good prezzies - (new laptop!) - plus 3

Overall: plus 4. (I just had to use a pencil and paper to do that math. Maybe that's a minus but I don't have the heart to penalize myself, so I won't.)

Back to work.

Happy Holidays!

2011-12-23T09:51:00.002-05:00

Cowlick!

2011-09-23T12:16:00.002-04:00

My new crew cut has alerted me to a cowlick I didn't know was there. I look like this:

Well, actually not quite. But I realized this morning as I was driving to work that I have cultivated a seriously lesbian look.

Oh well.

Am I missing something?

2011-09-14T09:33:00.003-04:00

I'm sorry. This Missoni stuff everyone's going nuts over is just ugly.

It's like the 70's are not only back, they're puking all over the fashion world.

Bleeeee.

I will not eat the pissy biscuit

2011-09-09T09:47:00.002-04:00

This is gonna take a lot of cheese to fix, Velma.

I know it's Friday, and the sun is out after a fuckin' dark, dreary...rainy? No, biblically DELUGE-Y, week. And it's also payday. But several things have conspired to put me into a really, REALLY filthy mood. Care to know? Well, I'm gonna spew here, so if you don't, move along.

Okay.

The goddamn plantar fasciitis is back. Some may remember a few summers ago I had it mostly in the right foot. Very painful, and took nearly the entire summer of that year to pamper it, do the stretches, hobbling around like a gimp...until it finally went away sometime in the fall, only to have it rear its ugly...um...head this year, trying its luck with the left foot. Why you little bastard, I oughta...

And then.

You know when you put in hours and hours on a project (which should be simpler, but with a hierarchy of assholes up the 'chain of approval' that you have to pacify at every step...and they take their friggin' time over every piece, don't get me STARTED), complete with all the paperwork, on-line parts done and approved, finances and funding set and ready to go live...and as you're one final, tiny, inconsequential step away from pressing GO on the whole frakking thing, and getting that shit up and running, the person who STARTED the thing in the first place (but has no part in planning, building, implementing it, doing ANY of the pissing legwork, just says "I think we should do this, can you get that done?") changes his mind about a major, foundational - goddammit- GAME CHANGING part of the project?

Yeah. There's that.

And then I went and spotted an ex (from WAY back) on facebook and I don't want to be friends, (hereby promise I won't to reach out in that direction) but I am now sad that I had to get curious, look at the profile, and see that face again. I'm not sentimental in the least tiny bit, have no current feelings for that gadgie, and I'm happily married and all - but the feeling of nostalgia and melancholy I have now has bitten me on my charming, cotton-tailed arse. I don't know what it is - lost youth? Regrets from days gone by? Whatever it is - I am sad. But more importantly, feelings of sadness can't just sit there in a brain-corner and be sad for a while and then fuck off back to wherever they came from - oh, no - they have a tendency to exacerbate their bad selves by the fact that just feeling sad PISSES ME RIGHT-THE-FUCK-OFF.

So I'm more angry than melancholy. Which I suppose is healthier? Or easier to move on from? I don't know. It has still soured my quiche.

And a soured quiche is unforGIVeable.

But enough whinging.

(I hear you say.)

Right.

It's a beautiful day, it's Friday, it's payday, and I've finally broken the 9 pound weight loss plateau. Started in the spring, and the first 9 pounds took about a month to go. I know about plateaus - they're a bitch, but they're natural, and you have to be patient and keep working at it. But damn, that sucked. So it took me 6 weeks of work, eating nothing but veggies, fruit, lean proteins, and working out like some kind of ...I don't know...some maniac who works out a lot...hovering at the 9 pound mark. And yes, finally, after all that work.

I have lost ten.

Who wants a drink?

Nobody set fire to any goats today.

2011-08-23T15:35:00.004-04:00

Real Fucking Nutter.

I know this is old news now, but if you're not familiar with this story, please have a look here for a really good breakdown of the whole damn thing. Though this particular piece is really about how twitter can be used for good as well as...oh, I don't know...keeping us all up to date on people's lunch choices... it's more complete than any of the news articles I've found.

I have a strong suspicion that some wacked-out, disjointed, incoherent creationism-related spam messages I got last year were from this guy. Sounds familiar, anyway. I remember seeing the names of some of our faculty here at Anonymous Institute of Higher Learning (hencforth: AIHL) on the 'to' list, so I'm pretty sure just about everyone here was also spammed. Of course it could have been a different nutter - there are plenty of creationist nutballs out there to go around. And while most of them are busy eating pork scratchings and shagging their cousins, SOME of them have computers and know how to use e-mail. More's the pity.

Anyway, just seemed like the same M.O. - I'm not making any allegations here. I'm just glad this noob can't annoy and threaten people anymore. He'll get the mental help he so obviously needs. Though I do think a good kicking wouldn't go amiss.

Yawn.

EAR ZIT!

2011-08-19T09:48:00.007-04:00

Got one of those spidery hangovers I wrote about way back in 2005 - read an exploration of the hangover continuum here.**

Here's the thing - if local bars are going to insist on making lovely lovely lovely Newcastle Brown Ale the beer of the month and selling 16 ounce drafts for 3 lousy bucks - I'm friggin' drinking it. So yes, I've been bitten by the broon dog, but it's not as bad as it could be. My eyes are open, I have been able to vocalize, I have feeling in my extremities, and no one's told me I need another shower. Yet. If you're going to be hungover, this is the one to have.

Salty snacks and gallons of water will put it all right.

Leaving work early wouldn't hurt either.

Then...a magnum of Riesling and pizza delivery.

I'm a simple soul.

**(It is gratifying that when I googled 'spidery hangover' this blog was the very first entry that popped up. Really enjoyed re-reading that actually - the comments were especially entertaining. That was this blog's salad days, I guess. Funny group of commenters and webby friends there. I miss having enough to say to update as often.)

Spooge.

2011-07-22T09:47:00.001-04:00

I spend too much time on YouTube. I think that's why this blog is so neglected. It's not Facebook, or work, or anything else. It's friggin' YouTube.

Other than that....

I just thought it was funny.

What's more useless?

2011-07-12T12:10:00.000-04:00

A telephone directory with the information listed numerically?

OR

A screen door on a submarine?

Pigs fly!

2011-06-16T00:15:00.001-04:00

What the fuck is going on?

2011-06-14T14:34:00.004-04:00

Tim Thomas, you ANIMAL.

The Bruins are one game away from winning the goddamn Stanley Cup and my brain does not know how to process this information. I'm so accustomed (read: programmed from birth) to letting them break my heart so much earlier in the playoffs, like the first or second round, that being one game...ONE BASTARD GAME... away from the first Boston Stanley Cup since I was too young to understand what in the name of Salma dad was losing his shit about ...unfathomable. All they have to do is what they haven't done at all in this series - win in Vancouver - and they'll have done what they haven't even been within smelling distance of doing since 1972. Don't talk to me about 1990. Didn't happen in MY universe.

Anyway...so...Nineteen-fucking-seventy-pigging-two. Okay I'll admit I'm old - so I was alive, but barely sentient. How young is that in hockey years? I hadn't even started skating yet, that's how young.

Hell's bollocks.

On another topic, and new font color, I was out at this event on Sunday, and did not hear a word about the Bruins. An all-day music and booze-fest with my music-loving (and playing) pals and you'd think Boston didn't even HAVE a professional sports team at all, let alone one that's within a C.H. of winning a championship.**

There are many different Bostons, I guess.

I don't know. I kind of think that's pretty cool.

**Weird thing though, the bass player I was chatting to after the gig when a few of us went for a bite to eat asked me about English Football. Very strange. I was too drunk at that point to be very informative or articulate on the topic but I DID manage to squeak out that I hate Manchester United. What a world.

I can haz Stanley Cup?

2011-06-06T14:33:00.003-04:00

.....early signs point to no, which I really fucking resent.

Something for the cute/menacing dichotomy we all share.

2011-06-01T10:14:00.007-04:00

Here's some nightmare fuel. If this isn't the creepiest shit you'll ever see, I no longer know what to think of you. I'd like to thank Dennis for this, though "gratitude" doesn't quite cover the range of emotions I feel when I watch this.

After this performance, the doors slammed shut, the lights went out, the cages came down, and the children ate the audience.

Don't think I don't notice things like that.

2011-05-26T12:09:00.005-04:00

"I know a certain someone who won't ever come home with
fat free half and half again..."

Am I rapture ready? Bollocks.

2011-05-20T10:47:00.004-04:00

Bias this, muthafucka.

2011-05-18T09:29:00.009-04:00

So, a study commissioned by Roman Catholic Bishops, surprise, surprise, finds that the priests aren't at fault for their reprehensible behavior. Look at this bit of fucking nonsense:

"The report also states that poor training of priests, combined with social isolation, job stress, and few support mechanisms likely contributed to the abuse problem."

Poor training...POOR TRAINING...my dimpled white arse. So I guess seminaries need to add a semester to teach what seems obvious to most morally normal people, what seems to go without saying to me: "Don't fuck little children entrusted to your care." You'd think we WOULDN'T need to spell that out, would we? You'd think we wouldn't need to put that on the fucking syllabus.

And the study, shockingly, doesn't seem to address the fact of institutionalized cover-ups, or that the focus of the church's sympathy was with the offending priests, instead of the victims.

I'm predicting a shit-storm of criticism for this study,and rightly so. Anyone with half an operational brain cell will see the obvious confirmation bias - if Roman Catholic Bishops are asking for a study of these phenomena, you can bet the study is going to shift the blame off of the filthy kid-fuckers, and onto whatever cultural phenomena or climate that will make the filthy kid-fuckers the victims.

Well, I ask you.

I didn't invent gas face.

2011-05-16T11:55:00.004-04:00

I am just incredibly good at it.

Well....

2011-04-29T11:56:00.003-04:00

I liked the dress.

Feeling another phase coming on...

2011-04-22T09:20:00.003-04:00

So, okay, I have this weird thing where I get into something (usually involving TV or movies, but sometimes music) and it obsesses me for weeks or months at a time, absorbing all my mental energy, making me a dreadful bore about it to anyone who will listen, until I move on to something else. I buy the paraphernalia, books, records, wrist-watches, toys, etc., investigate the back stories on the characters and actors...

What the hell is that about? I think it's some form of ADD, perhaps Aspberger's or something. I have tested very high for that in some on-line test that (like all on-line tests) is probably bullshit, but a friend with two kids who have Aspberger's tells me that the questions on that quiz are the same as some of the 'real' tests she and her kids have been given so...whatever. I won't explore this fully because it doesn't matter - I've gone 45 years without an 'official' diagnosis and I have a job I like and function as an adult in the real world, so it doesn't really matter.

Anyway, I can remember just about all of my little obsessions from early childhood, from Superman to Starsky & Hutch, to S.W.A.T., to Star Wars, to The Who, to Auf Wiedersehen Pet, to...I guess that brings us up to date, though I skipped a few relatively minor ones in between the big ones. Also some of the ones that were peripheral to the bigger ones. (Newcastle United Football Club as an off-shoot of Auf Wiedersehen Pet, for instance.)

And what I find now is that with the availability of so much music and TV on YouTube and other on-line sources, I'm starting to backtrack. I spent 2 hours last night watching interviews with Paul Michael Glaser, which led me to Hulu.com to watch the pilot episode of Starsky & Hutch. Also, Amazon.com has S.W.A.T. episodes available for purchase and viewing on your PC for $1.99 each. So now I own a couple of those episodes that involve the character I was in love with in the 5th grade.

For the next few months, I'll be watching 70's cop shows ad nauseum, perhaps buying some DVDs, maybe a t-shirt or two, perhaps a novelty watch (though the Newcastle United watch I'm currently sporting will have to have shat the bed before I make that investment and it goes in the drawer with my Harry Potter watches).

I apologize in advance to anyone who will be annoyed by this. But hey, at least I'll shut up about Jimmy Fucking Nail for a while.

Monday is an anagram of titwank.

2011-04-18T09:35:00.006-04:00

Himself: The noise the dryer is making could be really embarrassing if we had people over.

Me: You mean, they might think our gimp is trying to escape?

Him: Yessssssss.

Most excellent.

2011-04-14T08:55:00.000-04:00

Just read this article by Paula Kirby, and couldn't help doing fist pumps.

She speaks the truth, my dears. It's been obvious to me since I was 15, but I guess we still need people to state the obvious once in a while, don't we? It just amazes me that anyone can still buy into this bronze age bullshit, ESPECIALLY women.

Fuck sake.

That is all.

Too Long Wintah.

2011-04-08T09:06:00.000-04:00

"Mind thee divven't step in thon cakkie"

2011-04-06T10:43:00.009-04:00

Ahhhh, spring in Boston. From blossoming puke-stenched Gingko trees in Cambridge to thawing dog shit on Beacon Hill, let's all enjoy the miasmic hum, shall we?

Oh, really, it's not that bad. I really do like spring. I'm just cranky from a tuna sub I ate last night that still seems determined to swim its way back to whatever ocean it called home. Oh, aye. Much more of this and I'll have to name the thing and get it a birth certificate.

But I just can't seem to work up the enthusiasm for spring just yet. I could do with a couple more weeks of hibernation. Maybe a kick-start is in order. I shall try the following very minor things, see if they spark a little so'sin' so'sin:

*A haircut - utterly sick to the back teeth of 'doing' my hair. Had it with the whole process of shampoo, conditioner, blow-driers, combs, brushes, whatever else, and still looking like Nick Nolte's mug shot by the time I get to work. Fuck it. Getting a crew cut, maybe even today.

Rock on.

*Meeting Sassy for a drink tomorrow. That'll at least change my routine from work to home and back to work. A little conversation, a few laughs, a few drinks - give me something to talk about other than what's for dinner and how tight the budget is until the next paycheck. (Hint: whatever paycheck you're on, it's always the one AFTER that.)

*The Red Sox home opener is on Friday. IF they can manage a win between now and then, and IF I don't freeze my substantial arse off, I should be able to muster some enthusiasm for baseball again.

"Bomber's ready...Bomber's away!" Champion.

Bollocks.

2011-04-01T10:43:00.002-04:00

Mike Huckabee thinks we should be forced at gunpoint to listen to a batshit crazy evangelist.

I think he should be forced at gunpoint to read the Constitution, especially the Establishment Clause. What a douche.

Honestly, GOP? This is one of your potential candidates for 2012? You've lost the fucking plot. Good.

Please continue.

ISSIT???

2011-03-31T12:11:00.000-04:00

J.M.W. Turner, 1812, Snowstorm: Hannibal and his Army Crossing the Alps

Nor'easter coming tomorrow. Another April Fool's Day Blizzard. Not surprisingly, after the winter we've had, a lot of people are whining already. But last time we had a blizzard this far into 'spring' (or what passes for spring here in the Northeast; cold, some crocuses, more cold, a wet day, a warm day, then cold and wet again until you blink and everything is in bloom and it's hot as hell) it was melted by afternoon, the sun was out and it was 55F. Meh.

Anyway, not much bothered. I like snow and I don't feel like gardening yet.

So...bitch can bring it, far as I'm concerned. I have four-wheel-drive and good boots. I'm from the Northeast. Ch'yah.

Lookit this nice Turner painting. Isn't it lovely?

Nothing creepy here...

2011-03-28T12:37:00.004-04:00

You know what I'm saying?

Yes, I know the owner of this print. No, it's not on display out of any sense of irony.

...ummmmm.

It puts the lotion on its skin.

2011-03-18T08:00:00.000-04:00

So, I suppose the thing a lot of professional writers will tell you when you're stuck for ideas is to just start writing something - anything - just get it on paper (or in a blog window, if you will) and edit and give it form and substance as you go. That's never quite been my M.O., however. I usually find a picture that makes me laugh or sparks a thought, and post that, then build a rant off of it.

Case in point:

"Who's making lover's lane safe again for lovers?"

But I have little to say here. This is kind of like when in a pause in a conversation you turn to a friend you've known a long time and just say, "you know what I'm saying?" and they know. They just know.

Anyway, you know what I've been doing instead of blogging? I've been doing a little bit of "Facebooking," a lot of "YouTubing," a lot of working, and a lot of being surprised at how fast time seems to be moving and how it seems to move faster and faster as I get older.

I've been reading a lot of sciency blogs and books, refining my thinking and honing my arguments - even though I only really get to use this knowledge at pub trivia and watching "Jeopardy!"

I've been watching as various idiots try to pass legislation to teach (un)intelligent design in the schools, or at least work their rather obvious 'wedge' strategy, by trying to teach the so-called (non-existent) challenges to evolutionary theory - working myself into a righteous lather about that.

I don't have kids, and I know relatively few kids in the school system, so I'm not sure why I'm taking it so personally - but for some reason, this issue has been occupying most of my brainspace that isn't dedicated to my Jimmy Nail obsession, pinot noir, and trying not to get fat again. Weird.

So I suppose the point of this post is to get something up here - see if I can't build some time into my routine to blog a bit from time to time. It's spring. Time for rebirth. Ahem.

Still Thinking.

2011-03-15T16:10:00.000-04:00

Is this blog dead?

2011-03-11T14:39:00.002-05:00

It might be. I will do a small experiment and see if I can decide whether to revive it, or let it die a dignified death.

I shall spend the weekend trying to think of things to blog about, or devise some sort of theme or format to take, that would sustain not only the blog, but my interest in it. If I can't come up with anything, that's all she wrote.

More later, kittens. Or not.

Nobody owes anybody any fucking greeting. Get over it.

2010-12-06T10:00:00.001-05:00

Anybody out there? Hi.

A little exchange on Facebook today provides the reason for this post. And that purpose is to tell people who get indignant over the form of a holiday greeting to GET THE FUCK OVER IT.

Let's start with this bit of obviousness: Nobody owes you a holiday greeting of any kind, so stop telling people what form you would like your greeting in. Where do you get off having any kind of an issue whether someone doesn't use the word Christmas? Whence the sense of entitlement? If you get a holiday greeting, just accept it in the spirit it's given and don't give out about whether it's "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas" or, "Happy Hanukkah", or for that matter, "Happy Solstice." Can you just accept the fact that the person offering the greeting is just wishing you a happy ...whatever the fuck you celebrate this time of year?

There is no frigging war on Christmas - that was made up by Fox News to get the Christian nutbags indignant and give them an excuse to tell us they're being persecuted for their religious beliefs because oh, poor things, people in retail want to cover more than one base when they offer their pleasantries. Oh my god - how DARE THEY?!

The form in which I give and receive holiday greetings is irrelevant - it's simply a courtesy and a nice thing to say to someone at a time of year when we're supposed to be fucking nice to each other. And I take greetings offered to me at face value. If someone says "Merry Christmas" to me, I say "Merry Christmas" back. I don't go all smug and insufferable and tell them I'm an atheist, I just say "Thanks" and offer them the same courtesy. If they say "Happy Holidays" I say "Happy Holidays." And if I'm the one offering the greeting first, I use the terms interchangeably depending on my mood and whether I actually know the religious feelings of the person I'm addressing. If someone is Jewish, and I know it, and I'm paying attention to dates, I say "Happy Hanukkah."

What's the fucking harm in that?

For the love of Salma, people, stop taking this shit so seriously, and be nice.

Fuck sake.

That is all.

How disappointing.

2010-10-08T10:20:00.002-04:00

I may have been talked into going back to fast food if they were offering boy toys. I had NO idea. Looks like I missed that window of opportunity.

Unforgiveable.

2010-08-20T13:11:00.002-04:00

Saw someone wearing a pair of these in public recently and thought "I must come out of my blogging semi-retirement to report on, and condemn this right away."

What the fuck is going on here?

I want the inventor of these to suffer. There can be no forgiveness.

Jesus.

That is all.

Wafting in the rarified air of shut the fuck up

2010-08-07T10:24:00.001-04:00

Oh, fuck it. I'm not updating, let's face it. I'm on vacation. This great picture is going to waste on a 'fuck you' post. See if I care.

Stand back, I'm REGENERATING.

2010-06-29T12:06:00.000-04:00

Utterly sick and tired of the 15 or so pounds extra that I've been carrying around since goddamn puberty. So within the last month, I started a diet and exercise routine that would make that Gillian McKeith cream her size zero keks. Now I've pretty much always had something of an exercise routine, and a (sort of) reasonable diet, but that's only been enough to maintain a generally healthy, but somewhat rounded, not to say flabby, figure- with attendant fluctuations, mood swings, inconsistencies, what have you. Enough is e-fucking-nough, though.

Seriously - up at the crack of freakin' dawn every day for an hour on the elliptical, plus weights, and other toning exercises and sweaty junk, a diet of only fresh fruits, vegetables (mostly raw), hummus for protein, zero caffeine, zero processed food, and so little booze that SPOUSE thinks I've been abducted and replaced by a teetotaling alien.

It's weird when you feel your body changing. But it's nice, too. Here are some changes I noticed even before the scale started to register a difference:

1. Better digestion, i.e., no stomach pain, no grumblings, bubblings, sqeakings, reflux, etc. Has to be mainly the lack of coffee that caused that, though I also suspect lack of wheat products is a contributing factor. (Shall I go all the way and say healthier poos? Ooops, already did. Deal with it. No, McKeith, you can't come and look. You loony.)

2. It is, for the first time in my life, EASY to go to sleep at night, EASY to stay asleep through the night, and EASY to get the carcass out of bed in the morning (at a most ungodly hour) for the workouts. This has mostly to do with the exercising, I think, though the lack of caffeine can't be discounted.

3. People are noticing. Even before the scale said I'd lost an ounce, people were mentioning it. At first it was a little annoying, having to hear "well, you're building muscle, which weighs more than fat" at every turn, when all I wanted to see was something I could actually quantify as progress. But hell, what was I whinging about? People said I was getting thinner, so I should just grin, thank them, and carry on with the smugness.

4. My skin is smoother, clearer, and more resilient than it has been in years. Nary a zit to mar the lovely freckled paleness. That has to do with the lack of processed foods. I think high fructose corn syrup is a zit maker. Don't bother arguing with me on this. I know full well I have no data to back this up, but this isn't a science blog, it's just an intuition. Nyah.

Maybe I'll be able to keep the routine up even when the days shorten and the sun is no longer up at 5AM, but we'll have to see. This rabbit doesn't get up in the dark. I predict once the sunrise is later and the weather is colder, I'll be back at the mac & cheese, and into Dunkin' Donuts like a crack whore to her dealer, but from a lighter, more toned, cleaner starting point. Then maybe next spring, if and when a dress shopping event comes up I won't find myself in tears. Again.

Just so you know.

2010-05-19T09:32:00.000-04:00

If you are one of those people who walk up to unsmiling strangers in the street and say "SMILE," you should know the rest of us think you are a tit.

Furthermore, we only smile because we are afraid if we don't, you'll follow us.

Us against the world, lads.

2010-04-30T10:11:00.000-04:00

Some of the people I work for/with need a fucking glassing. Come to think of it, so does 2010, as a whole.

Here is some joy, though, just because it's Friday. FMC will especially enjoy the lovely big ginger and his mad dancing skillz.

I'm going local for a few dozen drinks, some seaweed and cucumber salad and some crab rangoons when I get out of here. If my head doesn't explode first. What bar will YOU be in at 5:05?

Divven't push it, Petal.

2010-04-14T09:51:00.000-04:00

Gratified at news reports that the idiot Palin's visit to Boston drew a much smaller number than the 10,000 teabagging morons they smugly expected. I'm glad to note that her tawdry bits of bombast don't go over as well here as in other places.

That bitch be unstable.

New furniture.

2010-04-04T15:11:00.001-04:00

Not for us, for the cats. I'm so glad THEY'RE comfortable.

Nae joy, nae hope, nae NOWT!

2010-03-29T09:27:00.000-04:00

These weekends that last 10 and a half seconds, and wind up on gloomy, rainy Monday mornings that make you want to kill yourself - I am most fervently against them.

Birthday weekend

2010-03-19T19:49:00.001-04:00

I have received the first gift of this 44th birthday weekend. And it is THIS.

How can you not love a SPOUSE who buys a present like that, knowing he'll also be hearing the same voice every day at wake-up time? AND the various follow-ups as I'm a 2-3 snooze button hitter?

I'll be waking up giggling from now until this thing shits the bed.

That is all.

This moldy old blog thing...

2010-03-17T14:00:00.000-04:00

Bread Mold. Says a lot, I think.

Right - haven't had anything to say for a while, but thought I'd let you two or three folks who still check in know that I'm alive.

I'm fine, thanks for asking. Just haven't felt like scrounging up a blog post in a while - had the window open a few times, started typing things, then got distracted and...well...huh? What was that?

Ohhhh...lunch.

While I'm positive a lot of this lack of effort has to do with the winter blues - shite, I've been even more of a mess this year than usual - fark it, I just don't feel like rabbiting on about random stuff. I have my opinions about things in the news and whatnot, but I can't imagine they're of any interest to anyone, and chances are someone's already said exactly what I've been thinking elsewhere. And the last thing I want is for this blog to become one of those "what I had for lunch" things. (Homemade veggie burrito today. Don't say you weren't warned.)

But spring is here, and the clamps are coming off the old brain, and the warmth is returning to my typing fingers (thank you, Bushmills) and I've got very little to do at work today (thank you, spring break).

In no particular order, here's what I've been up to, and what I've started planning since I've stopped blogging regularly:

1. Rediscovered the film Still Crazy, and by looking up the cast members, and Jimmy Nail specifically (see entry 2) I have discovered Auf Wiedersehen Pet. You UK people will roll your eyes, I'm sure, since it's been 25 years since its heyday, but you must realize it's new to ME. And it is WUNDERBAR. I've been watching it on YouTube, thanks to some brave YT users who aren't afraid of copyright wrist slaps, since it's still not available in the U.S. any other way - never released on zone 1 DVD, and never aired here, probably because most Americans couldn't get through the Geordie accent. It took me two or three episodes to fully understand it, and I'm good at accents. I'm all caught up on it, except for series 4, in Cuba. If anyone out there has access to that, and can post it on-line somewhere or on YouTube or even send it to me on a DVD that will play in North America, I will be your bitch. Well, very grateful anyway. "Donkey shite to you too, pal." (inside joke)

2. From the AufPet stepping stone, because OZ is the greatest character in TV history, I've been investigating the life and career of Jimmy Nail.** DVDs of Spender and Crocodile Shoes are on their merry way to me as I type. (I've got my sources, best not say more about that here. Shhhhhh.) I may have to invest in a zone 2 DVD player. Dammit. He waited a tad long to fix that tooth, but never mind that, it's all right now.

3. Also related, developed an interest in Newcastle United football. I KNOW IT'S ODD. I don't know how I'll sustain this interest - it's hard to follow over here, and I'm already up to my eyeballs in sports viewing. I'm really just keeping an eye on them via the internet. You won't find me at the pub at some god-awful hour of the morning watching them on satellite or anything. I am not a nutter. I am NOT.

4. Reading, reading, reading. As always, of course. It's only mentioned here because it accounts for so MUCH of my time. Currently mostly science and philosophy, but some crappy fiction too...anyone else read that awful Wally Lamb novel, "I Know This Much is True"? Cliche-ridden prose, plodding story, ham-fisted animal imagery and foreshadowing that a first-grader would roll his eyes at. Glad I bought it used, anyway. Couldn't wait to get back to writers who can write. This week it's E.O. Wilson. Something for the brain to chew on. Because I can feel my IQ sinking and I need to throw it a lifeline.

5. In recent weeks, trying to re-establish a social life. Meeting friends for drinks here and there again. Saw Sassy for some beers last week, won't wait another 6 months to do that again, and then actually went to an afternoon rockabilly show on Saturday. I dunno - people seemed to enjoy seeing me again, and making with the clever conversation and getting the rounds in. Must test this further.

6. The guitars are (very soon) going in to get fixed so that I can start noodling around on them at home again. I am ashamed of the shape they're in and that I haven't touched them in YEARS. I need to get off of YouTube and start doing something productive. Maybe I can start writing again. Who knows.

Spring is definitely in the air.

And that is all.

**DO NOT say anything negative about the Nail in the comments - I don't know why anyone would except to get a rise out of me, and I'm not in the mood. There is nothing negative TO BE said about the Nail. He shall be my second husband. And I'll delete your comment. I fucking mean it.

Sunday afternoon

2010-01-10T16:08:00.000-05:00

Drink: Bloody Mary
Cat: Luna
Book: Everyday Drinking by Kingsley Amis
TV: Pats/Ravens (Pats lost, oh well.)

Does Monday HAVE to come?

Happy Flippy Day

2009-12-24T15:01:00.000-05:00

...ummm...I mean Merry Christmas.

Oral Roberts is dead.

2009-12-15T22:47:00.001-05:00

GOOD.

violent is the wind

2009-12-14T11:14:00.000-05:00

I'm only going to say this once:

Jewelry is pronounced Joo-well-ree.

NOT fucking Joo-ler-ree.

That is all.

Sorry, almost forgot I had a blog.

2009-12-04T15:00:00.000-05:00

Who out there is a scotch drinker?

I never could stomach the smell of the stuff. And I've always blamed my mother for that - she drank it, and I remember when I used to run up to her with a cut or scrape at the beach, she would dip her napkin in her drink, dab the wound, and send me on my way, the wound sterilized without her needing to get out of her chair. (She was a registered nurse, it should be noted.) So I always associated the smell of scotch with medicine, and was never able to choke it down. To be fair, I don't think her brand was of very good quality, but still - I don't have a very sophisticated nose and blends and single malts all pretty much smell the same to me. I know that's blasphemy. Bear with me, I've already admitted I don't have a sophisticated nose. Shut it.

But scotch drinkers are so loyal to their particular brand, and have such lovely, poetic things to say about it - and I love the idea of drinking something that you just sip at, while having a real conversation, rather than gun back so you can fit in as many as possible till last call.

Decided I'd try to see what people are always banging on about. "Oh, you should do a tasting, try some really good stuff, you'll grow to appreciate it, it's an acquired taste...blah, blah, blahhhhh."

So last weekend I bought myself a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black, figuring that might be a good place to start educating myself. I'm looking for a sophisticated drink, so may as well start with something reasonably good, but not INSANELY expensive. No sense diving into anything cheap, and the upgrade to Johnnie Walker Blue, I'm told, is not enough of a jump in quality to be worth the extra coin.

Last night, after dinner, for the first time in my life, I poured myself a scotch.

I.... poured... myself... a scotch.

There's a perfectly normal English sentence.

You can't say I 'choked it down,' more like I 'allowed miniscule bits of it to enter my mouth and dissipate as it got to the back of my tongue' - the corners of my mouth pulling themselves down into a kind of grimace with each tiny sip. They say the sense of smell is the one most closely tied to memory - and every time I raised that glass to my mouth and had a whiff it was like willingly sticking my nose into a bucket of some industrial strength antiseptic.

Gagggghhhhh. Sip. Ssssssswallowwww. Gulp. Breathe.

Repeated, trying to suppress the ghastly frown, not succeeding. Remembered I was alone, stopped trying to suppress the grimace - made a night of it.

It took me from about 7:30 till about 9:30 to finish my two fingers of scotch, taking my baby sips and the occasional gulp of water. Have to admit the lovely warm feeling that went down my throat and through my torso was very, very nice, but it took an effort. Then, as I was (gratefully) putting the empty glass in the sink, I thought, "well, I'm glad I have a bottle of the stuff in the house in case we have a guest who likes it, anyway," and "maybe something sweeter, like brandy, or some other cordial."

But now, as I sit here at work, watching the clock...the memory of that malty smell, and the warmth in my chest and toes is not as entirely unappealing as it should be. I think...I think I might want a scotch. Is that weird?

Well.

There we are.

Seasonal Affective Disorder can FUCK RIGHT OFF.

2009-10-29T09:34:00.000-04:00

"Get out of my hidey-hole or I'll chew up your ankles. See if I won't."

Has anyone else out there ever felt so sluggish, tired, unmotivated, anti-social, achy and irritable that they wondered if they were actually depressed?

I have a list of things I need to be getting on with that are just normal, adult responsibilities, but EVERYTHING, including respiration and movement, just seems like a huge pain in the arse. The truck needs repairs again. (Some friends borrowed it to move and dented it and SPOUSE keeps reminding me to bring it in for an estimate, and then get in in for the repair work...can't work up the energy to care.) In the new job I find I don't work under my own initiative - it's at the beck and call of others' initiative, which gives me the hump. I cringe when the phone rings, or when I hear the 'new e-mail' chime, and the human voice is like a rake across a chalk board. Also, getting reminders in the mail from my doctor about yearly check-ups and mammograms and stuff, which I've been putting off.

No, I don't want to get a fucking mammogram.

I certainly hope turning the clocks back this weekend will help. In fact, I'm SURE a little extra daylight when I'm getting up in the morning wouldn't go amiss. Then...THEN the whining and self-pity will stop. I'm sure of it. Yes.

Now, somebody get me a bowl of soup and a bloody mary, leave it on the doorstep, knock twice gently, and fuck off.

2009-10-07T09:11:00.000-04:00

Toot-a-root-ay, mac-doo-tay.

2009-10-02T11:57:00.000-04:00

Here's my MadMen yourself result. She does actually look like me, I'm happy to say.

The entire day has been one long, long martini lunch. Only, sadly, without the martinis.

Life's too short for origami.

2009-09-10T12:08:00.000-04:00

My plan to get out of jury duty tomorrow is to show up in a "We Finally Nailed the Jesus of Cool" T-shirt, holding a copy of "The Portable Atheist," and then rocking back and forth, humming "The Ballad of the Green Berets." Think it'll work?

It's not that I don't want to do my civic duty, but 8am, on a Friday, two weeks into my new job, with classes underway and a faculty member who is getting tetchy because I've not been able to do anything she's requested all friggin' week long (not my fault - permissions, trainings, and on-line accounts haven't been set up yet)...not a good time to be out.

Plus I have a track record of getting actually 'empanelled,' if that's the word. On trials. On week-long trials. On uninteresting trials. Why is that? I think I look like a guilty, hand-wringing liberal to the defense attorneys, and like an embittered, angry conservative to the prosecution. Tomorrow, however, I'll be a smelly, psychically damaged, indecisive, angrily atheistic bag lady. Which, really,

...nevermind.

PS: I am on Facebook now. It IS the Seventh Sign. But I'll stand by my conviction that "Friend" is NOT a VERB.

SCORE!!!

2009-08-31T10:25:00.000-04:00

Look what I pulled out of the trash yesterday! Normally I'm a little embarrassed to pick through trash, but seriously - I saw this as we drove past a neighbor's house coming back from the grocery store and nearly hyperventilated.

All it needed was a once over with a dust rag and some Lemon Pledge. Who throws stuff like this out? Crazy, I say.

Gifted

2009-08-28T14:13:00.000-04:00

I have an AMAZING knack for opening my big mouth and making some absolutely harmless comment or joke JUST when the very person least likely to find it funny or most likely to get me in trouble for it is standing right behind me and I didn't know it until after the damage is done.

How do I do it?

Just happened a few minutes ago and now worrying about it has absolutely RUINED an otherwise glorious Friday/payday. Even this stack of 7 brand new books hasn't lightened the mood.

Well, maybe a LITTLE bit.

Fuuuuuuuuck.

That is all.

MEDIC!!!!!!

2009-08-19T12:06:00.000-04:00

HA! I fucking KNEW IT!!!

Take that, you slovenly flip-flop wearing hippies and no zoners!

Right - vacation's almost over, and I go back to work on Monday. I am taking this one last opportunity of the summer to pay a visit to the male progenitor - bring him a pizza, watch the ballgame, have a larf.

I'm also going to meet the latest pet additions to the family - my family has a tendency to think we're the only people in the world who can properly care for any needy animal, so anytime we're presented with a homeless little furball, you can count on us to take it in. As a result, between all the siblings, we're up to about 15 cats and at least 6 or 7 dogs. So we have a new collie, a new sheltie and a new kitten, all up in Maine and waiting for me to go absolutely maudlin and squeaky over.

Lastly, Sunday night, I ended up going to the Trashcan Sinatras gig at TT's on my own. Thanks, TT's, by the way, for making the show go so late that anyone not on vacation couldn't swing it. Sunday night is NOT Saturday night - you'd think they'd have one less opening band and let everything start a little earlier... but NOOOO.

EVERYONE who said they were going to go ended up bagging on me. Oh well, I am a big girl and I enjoyed myself no less for being on my own. Brought me back to the days when I turned 21 before my roommates and started going to shows on my own - the whole IDEA behind turning 21 was so I could get into clubs and hear live music. Since I drove, I only had a couple of beers. And the parking garage on Green Street is so cheap - I saved enough booze money that I treated myself to a copy of the new disc and a t-shirt. I win. Here are two blurry pictures from my shitty cell phone - Frank Reader, and John Douglas. Yes, I was that close.

TT the Bear's hasn't changed at all in the years since I left my 20's and part of my liver there.

This is my doormat.

2009-08-11T13:52:00.000-04:00

I've been a very busy rabbit indeed.

Almost got laid off at the end of June - which would have been a first. I was finishing up with my job, training co-workers so they could take up the slack of my responsibilities, cleaning up my files, buying job interview clothes, and deciding how much of the severance check I could actually afford to blow on hardwood floors...and then less than one week before I was to be officially gone, two jobs opened up in another department, and the supervisor called and said "which one do you want?"

Like that zero hour call from the governor as you're getting strapped to the chair.

I will be making the same amount of money (actually more, since the union negotiated raise kicked in AFTER I was told I was going to be gone at the end of August - go figure), doing a job with LESS responsibility and stress. Huh.

Once again, I come up smelling like a friggin' rose. Ain't life grand?

hooray.

2009-08-02T22:11:00.000-04:00

HEEBY JEEBIES!!

2009-07-13T11:23:00.000-04:00

You GUYS!!!

We were in Maine over the weekend. Stayed at a little B&B we like, met some friends for food and drinks, went to a minor league baseball game, had some more drinks, then they went home and we had yet more drinks...you know, as we tend to do.

Went to bed, got up hungover, of course, started getting ready to check out and drive home. And we discovered a jacket in the room that does not belong to either of us. Don't know where it came from, but SPOUSE figured we accidentally grabbed it out of the car belonging to our friends when they dropped us off at the inn after our day-long hooch-fest. Easy enough to do, right? So, as we checked out, we brought the jacket to the front desk and said "this belongs to our friend - we'll call her and tell her it's here, she'll come pick it up."

Okay, so we get home and there's a message on the answering machine from the inn. They found a set of house keys in our room after we left - they thought the keys were ours and were hoping we'd get the message before we were too far away to double back.

Thing is...they were NOT our keys.

Hmmm....a strange jacket and set of keys in our room...that somehow APPEARED at some point between our check-in and going out, and getting up in the morning.

GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

It may be an innocent thing - nothing was stolen and thieves tend NOT to leave jackets and keys behind when they do their pilfering. Could be some of the inn's room keys work in several rooms and someone got confused (very old building, lots of twisty hallways and nonsensical layout), went into our room thinking it was theirs, realized it wasn't, panicked and left quickly, leaving their jacket and keys behind.

But the idea that it wasn't innocent keeps nagging at me.

I mean...a voyeur in the closet? Hope they enjoyed the show.

Bleugh.

The Problem...

2009-07-07T18:33:00.000-04:00

The Problem with having to find something polished and professional to wear for a job interview...

...is that no matter what you wear...

...it is abso-fuckin-lutely IMPOSSIBLE to look polished and professional...

...when you have massive fucking tits.

That is all.

Untamed World!

2009-06-15T11:01:00.000-04:00

I am taking Mondays off this summer - HUZZAH for banking vacation days for 10 years - now I can indulge in my favorite Sunday afternoon behavior without the specter of Monday morning looming over me and killing the buzz.

And it's a good thing I was up late last night because at roughly 1AM, as I was lounging in the living room, polishing off the last of the Gnarly Head Old Vine Zinfandel, and watching some English costume drama or other (let's hear it for Matthew McFadyen and his big, warm eyes - hummuna) I had to rush outside to collect my (indoor) cats from the driveway. Seems one of the neighborhood cats, that little tiger cat from across the street, whose owners are about as feral as their frigging pets (their dog shits in our yard at will and will have it kicked out of him next time I catch him at it - and the human female breeds as indiscriminately as her cats - she's up to five moronic children with four different tattooed fuckwit fathers. Ugh.)...this little tiger cat had come by looking for trouble, got too close to the house, and caused my gentle little 5 pound buttercups to FLING themselves against the window screen with enough force to knock it completely out of the window, and land, in a snarling, screaming, howling, puffed up, angry and frightened jumble at the foot of the driveway.

When I arrived, the feral little bastard (whom I suspect had been littered under our porch two summers ago) had scarpered, and it was just my two little angels (ha!), sitting there, growling and snarling, and about three times their normal size. Luckily they allowed me to grab them, fling one under each arm, and get them back in the house - whereupon they made a run straight for the screenless front window, which I had not closed in my rush to turn the alarm off and run outside to prevent them from barreling off into the wilds of Waltham, never to be seen again. Luckily the ruckus had woken SPOUSE up and he was blocking their exit. Next time, I'm letting them spend the night outside in the rain, see how they like that, the ungrateful little shits.

But I'm going to have to say something to those fucking hillbillies and their wandering zoo.

Hammered on a Saturday evening

2009-06-13T19:10:00.000-04:00

The most underrated band in the history of music

2009-06-12T09:07:00.000-04:00

The band that rhymed "Bring on the blood and the bandages" with "I'll make the tea and the sandwiches."

Oh hell yeah.

Anyone else going to be at TT the Bear's on August 16th? I haven't been to TT's in YEARS...but it's where I was just about every weekend in my 20's, seeing bands like Bim Skala Bim and Scruffy the Cat. I wonder if the insulation is still showing... Come on now, rock again.

...hangs out in the back yard...eats a lot of berries...

2009-05-29T09:51:00.000-04:00

...drinks a lot of wine...reads a lot of books...

This is my Sunday perch. The wine is a very crisp, citrussy Pinot Grigio. Don't normally like white wine, but if it's not chardonnay (bleugh) and is crisp and cold enough, it can be a nice palate cleanser on a hot day, especially if you've had a lot of beer the night before and you're too bloaty and farty for more hops. The novella (On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan) took me about a half the afternoon last Sunday, from start to finish. A well-written, engaging, quick novel also works as a palate cleanser between all the science and politics. But I have to stop feeling like I'm wasting my time when I read fiction. You CAN learn something from it, after all, even if it's just a little bit about how a good author thinks.

I think I'd like to be friends with Ian McEwan.

This picture was taken in the late afternoon, when the sun was behind a huge oak tree. Mostly that spot gets full sun. I must be careful or I will burst into flame. You can see some of my potted vegetables in the back there, and those pipey looking things are the base of a hammock we got as a wedding present, and is SPOUSE'S Sunday perch, where he drinks beer and listens to baseball on the radio.

We are living the motherfucking dream.

I shall plant things and they shall grow like motherfuckers..

2009-05-22T10:00:00.000-04:00

HUZZAH for long weekends! Took the day off today, stretching the holiday weekend into a nice little 4-day vacation.

I've been doing some gardening. I've put in a bunch of perennials around the place, and made some pretty borders and an herb garden. Spent a lot of cash, and broke a lot of sweat. There is always more to do though. In a short time, once my workout is done and I'm ready to be seen outside the warren, I shall go and buy yet more plants. And then I shall put them in various places around the grounds, and then I shall water them, set a chair outside, open a book and a bottle of wine...and sit down... to enjoy...my...holidayyyyyy.

Here are some pictures I took last weekend. First, the front yard.

Azaleas burst into bloom in spring and then spend the rest of the summer looking green and sullen. But right now, thanks to a cold spring, these beauties seemed to bloom late, and the blossoms are taking their time about withering. My camera phone doesn't do the plant justice. It's a frigging fireball.

These are some hostas I put in last year. They're getting pretty big and beginning to crowd each other a bit. In the fall I'll dig one or two of them up and put it someplace else. Hostas are great - a perennial that loves shade, and the acidic New England soil, and they basically mean you'll never have to garden that patch of ground again, once they take. Which is why , last weekend, I put some in the back yard, under a HUGE azalea that has already lost its spring bloom.

Here they are, complete with the weeds and shit behind them that I'm hoping they grow to cover up, because it's almost impossible to get back there and pull all that stuff out. I can't be bothered, anyway.

Below is a portion of my herb garden. As you can see, it was time to put the rabbit outside. Here he is, happily lording it over the lavendar, lemon thyme, oregano and chives. How much of these herbs will I actually use? Precious little, to be honest. But they're pretty and they smell nice.

Which is why this year instead of loading up the herb garden with herbs I won't use, I put in these lupins. In front of them are last year's rosemary and a bunch of basil plants I put in last week. I DO use basil. TONS of basil. So there it is. I've also got some tomato plants in pots, so I'll be rocking the insalata caprese - nom, nom.

The previous owners of the house planted these irises next to the garage. They're stunning - but the camera made them look brighter than they are. Their color is actually such a dark purple, they're almost black. The only down side to these is that they smell like licorice. Minging.

Another shot of the irises. Got good life out of them this year. Last year they bloomed and then it rained really hard for four days straight, battering the poor bastards into the ground. Boo.

Over.

2009-05-14T23:24:00.000-04:00

Fuck.

I knew it when the game went into overtime.

Fuck.

...likes to party on his birthday.

2009-05-14T11:51:00.000-04:00

Here's the story: A certain gentleman of Waltham will be spending his next birthday behind bars, as a result of a road rage incident in which he decided to follow SPOUSE around the city one night last week - making incomprehensible but very threatening noises, eventually using his own car to ram the back of SPOUSE'S car before slinking away to try and avoid arrest by hiding in plain sight in a parking lot on Newton Street. Now, SPOUSE will fully admit he likes to drive like it's a video game, so at first I thought "yeah, what'd you do to set THIS in motion?" but by the time of the actual ramming, and he called the police, his was the THIRD call to 911 that night about the same guy. He'd been making the rounds of Waltham/Watertown, weaving around so obviously that several other calls had come in already before SPOUSE even had the misfortune to make his acquaintance.

Seems our little friend had lost his license at this time last year (turns out it was right around his birthday, again) and when found last week he'd been drinking, driving around without a license or insurance, cocaine in his car and no doubt in his system, and evidently very little gray matter operating in the brain case.

Oh sweetie - when you were little and went to school, did you ride in the big bus, or the little bus?

Exciting, suburban life, innit?

But that's all I have for today. Tomorrow I'll either be elated or gutted, depending on how the Bruins perform in Game 7 tonight against the inferior, but surprisingly quick and agile Hurricanes. I do believe the Bruins are the better team, but Carolina has impressed me with their speed and puck handling, at least in games 2, 3, and 4 of the series. I'm more nervous than I'd like to admit.

EEEEEP!!!!!

RIP

2009-05-08T09:24:00.000-04:00

Dominic DiMaggio - 1917-2009

Detoxing for creative dreaming

2009-05-07T10:23:00.000-04:00

Today is day 6 without coffee. Which explains why this week feels like it started back in the frigging Neolithic.

Has anyone else had the experience, when detoxing from anything, be it coffee, alcohol, drugs...that you get some really insane dreams? I certainly do.

Here are a few highlights from this week:

*I was sharing a frat house with the surviving members of Big Country, and working on putting the band back together. It is unclear who was to do the singing. Don't ask me - I was there out of context. Of course I had to do all the flaming house-cleaning.

*I was drinking gins the size of watering cans, at a full-on, black and white, late 50's or early 60's style cocktail party, the guest list of which included Peter Cook, Kingsley Amis, and Peter Sellers. Yep - in my dream life, I party with dead guys. As everyone else in the dream, I was in FAB-ulous 50's gear, complete with spike heels, bitchin' cocktail dress, make-up, and hair that looked like this:

*I was imprisoned in my home town's library, a building I haven't entered in about 20 years, on a minor charge (haven't a clue what) and waiting for trial - but kind of indifferent about getting out because I was making a mint by hoarding toilet paper and selling it at a huge profit to other inmates. Plus, the jump suit made my ass look gorgeous.

Tonight, I bet it has something to do with professional sports, maybe Milan Lucic and kittens. Hope so, anyway.

Dressing oneself is a bitch

2009-04-30T09:16:00.000-04:00

When you distill everything down to its most simple components, you find ways of complicating even the most mundane of tasks. For example, getting myself dressed every morning is an absolute pain in the hoop. When all one ever wears is jeans and t-shirts, even such a seemingly uncomplicated selection as that can become a full-on brain tease. There is actually a calculus involved in putting together even so simple an outfit, because within the t-shirt category there is a LOT of variation. V-necks, crew necks, short-sleeved, long-sleeved, black, gray, loose-fitting, tight-fitting...and does that color/fit clash with that day's choice of jeans? What's the weather like and what will be more comfortable given the temperature outside and in my office? Did I wear a crew or v-neck yesterday? Was it black or some other color? Which jeans did I wear - you can't wear the same color and/or wash two days in a row, people will think you're unclean or crazy, like that biology teacher you had in high school who seemed to wear the exact same doubleknit trousers every day, paired with one of two different shirts on alternate days. And then there's the boots? Which ones? Doc Martens, Timberlands, Frye or ...the other Timberlands?

But anyway, that's not the reason I'm posting today.

The reason I'm posting today is to say this:

Neighbors who have a postage-stamp-sized lawn, who nevertheless feel the need to hire landscapers who show up at 6:45am, with large trucks with back-up beeping signals, leaf blowers and lawn mowers...need to be horse-whipped. And yes, salted.

That may be all. Don't know yet.

Litmus test

2009-04-18T10:24:00.001-04:00

If you drive an Escalade, you may be a douchebag.

If you drive a white Escalade, you probably are a douchebag.

If you drive an Escalade with vanity plates, chances you're a douchebag are near 90%.

If you drive an Escalade, with vanity plates, playing your stereo at deafening volume and shouting at bicyclists, Congratulations. You are KING OF THE DOUCHEBAGS.

That is all.

...No, wait.

Forgot to put up the kilted man photo. Running out of celebrities, but here's an oldie but goodie. Despite the mullett.

HOOCH AND HOCKEY!

2009-04-16T15:00:00.000-04:00

After a long winter of going straight home every day after work, eating dinner with the SPOUSE, then getting in my PJ's to spend the evening on the couch, quiet and alone by 6:30PM (Yes, alone - and it's a good thing. He goes to the man-cave to watch whatever other sports are on, and I have been only interested in hockey and whatever Netflix selections are in the house - thank Salma for multiple televisions) ...tonight, I am actually going out. Out to socialize, watch the Bruins start the Eastern Conference Playoffs against Montreal (boooo), have some drinks, play pub trivia, and speak to other human beings.

Live.

That is a SHITLOAD of activity for someone who hasn't said 7 words after 7PM to any living soul since October.

I suspect my head will explode.

In fact, if my lower alcohol tolerance is anything to go by, it'll keep exploding into tomorrow morning.
I'm thinking the Bruins take this series in 5 games. Don't argue with me. Five. Shut it.
That is all.

Happy Easter.

2009-04-12T10:57:00.000-04:00

Blurt.

2009-04-03T09:38:00.000-04:00

I think that when the authorities find the computer virus- and worm- creating hackers, they should publish their names and addresses so that people like myself, with violent dispositions, armed and pissed off, can go over to their houses and beat the snot out of them.

Remember when my home computer shat the bed? I suspect it was a virus. And this week, yy-eahhhh, my computer at work fell victim to a worm. I don't think it was conficker, but it was pretty fucking vicious and required our IT department a whole day to fix it. What did I do in my office for a day without my computer? Well, my office has never BEEN so clean, for one thing. And I got some reading done.

What the hell did people DO in offices before the computer and e-mail? I imagine they scribbled on paper with these archaic instruments I've heard tell of, things called pens and pencils, or ...christ, how awful...I can't even think of it without squirming...spoke to people on the telephone. Ugh.

Okay, so I'm back up and running now. I'm fine. Really. Again, I didn't have a temper tantrum - just indulged in a bit of whimpering and a low growl or two.

And it's Friday. And the bi-monthly kilted man of the week is...........

Hamish Clark, everybody. Woot! Woot! Woot! The only reason I ever watched "Monarch of the Glen." It aired at 11:30 on Sunday nights, so many is the Monday I would arrive at work with the old dark circles under the bloodshot eyes (you cannot watch MOTG without a few Scottish beers in you) and half a working brain cell. Worth it. Totally.

Rainy Sunday in the Rabbit Warren

2009-03-29T12:59:00.000-04:00

I do love a rainy Sunday. It's 1:34PM here, and evidently I'm not working out today, because if I were, I'd have done it by now. I'm still in my jim-jams, with nothing to do but dick around on my computer, read, wait while the slow-cooker bubbles away on today's yummy soup, and listen to the rain fall. Later, I shall open a nice bottle of red wine.

I am living the dream.

While I've got you here, since you clearly have as little to do as I do, here's my finger, 8 weeks after the office window skirmish. A neighbor who used to do manicures for a living says I'll probably lose the nail eventually. I'm not sure. Wouldn't it have dropped off by now?

In the background are the front windows of my little library. On the left is the stereo thingy I talked about a few months ago, with a stack of books on top which I call my 'on deck circle.' It was down to three or four books, then I had a birthday and it was re-stocked. I'm good for another couple months' worth of reading material. I frigging LOVE that.

In the lower right-hand corner, that dark blur, is this rabbit. Yes, it's a lawn decoration, which spends its summers in the herb garden. But he has such a cheerful little face, and is so frigging cute, I bring him in for the winters, to sit in the corner of my library, to brighten my days. I lo'heem.

You guys didn't know I was such a drip, did you?

While I'm here, and I have time, why don't I just brighten all your worlds and show you the rest of my library.

This is my Sunday perch, a little loveseat we found on Craigslist for free, and covered with a cheap-ass slipcover, that actually turned out to be too big. I tuck it in and tighten it pretty frequently, but it still gets pretty messy. This is where I shall be in a few minutes, when I'm finished boring you with this post.

And I know what you're thinking now. You're thinking, this nutbag calls this room her library, but there's only a few books that I can see. What gives? Well, here then. There are many more books in the house than this, but I haven't been able to get my shit together to buy any larger bookcases (saving for hardwood floors is a priority) so there are many books upstairs in the guest bedroom, or stacked up next to the bed.

What the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. Might as well just throw the whole room in here. Let my peeps into my world, as it were. Here's my desk. The computer is currently showing this unfinished blog post, still in composition. How's THAT for meta-blogging.

The picture over the desk is that awesome Albrecht Durer rabbit painting. I like rabbits, no shit.

Maturity

2009-03-25T12:16:00.001-04:00

Almost a week has gone by since my home computer died.

It took the weekend to fix, and till last night to rebuild and reload all my operating systems and flashplayers and virus protection and stuff, and get e-mail back on-line. That's right, almost 7 full days of work, but it's back up and running, thanks to the patience of my friends at Dell, and McAfee, and Comcast, and various other on-line help services and what have you.

I'm posting today to let the world know this:

I only had ONE temper tantrum the entire time.

Let me repeat that for those who don't understand the full significance of this:

I only had ONE TEMPER TANTRUM over any part of this, from last Thursday to last night.

This was, at minimum, a 20 tantrum series of events for someone like me - no gene for patience, and no patience for tech-speak, convoluted instructions, too many steps, or trial and error processes.

Have I finally grown up?

I'm fucking Zen, me.

That is all.

Blogger's Home Computer Shits Bed. Blogger Devastated.

2009-03-20T11:13:00.001-04:00

PAHHHHHHH! I'll be on the phone to India, probably all weekend, trying to get it sorted. If it can't be sorted, I'll be on SPOUSE'S laptop for essentials like e-mail and reading the news.

Don't like laptops, me. Don't like the mouse 'pad,' don't like the tiny, toy keyboard, don't like the tiny, tinny speakers. Better than nothing, I suppose. But it means I won't be wandering hither and yon in blogland, leaving my drunken comments all over the shop.

Some birthday, huh?

I'll live.

At least it's Friday.

Ewan. Whooof!

Curmudgeon

2009-03-18T09:28:00.000-04:00

One of our esteemed faculty just called me a "Curmudgeon."

I win.

My tardis is broken.

2009-03-13T06:28:00.000-04:00

It's the damnedest things that wake you up at 4 AM. Here's today's litany of sleep-depriving thoughts:

1. An awful essay I wrote in college almost 20 years ago, on Emerson's "The Oversoul." It STILL pisses me off. My professor couldn't make heads or tails of what I'd written, because I couldn't make heads or tails of the transcendentalists. Nonsense.

2. The brakes on my truck are wonky again - less than a year and a half after spending $800 on new ones. I grew up believing in the reliability and longevity of Ford trucks, but fucking hell. Okay, that's a safety issue, and a money issue. This is the kind of thing that adults worry about. It's perfectly legitimate to be awake at 4 in the morning thinking about that. So let's move on to...

3. WORK! More nonsense, of course. Blee.

4. One of my cats won't touch canned cat food, and only eats canned chicken, which is produced and marketed for people. Well, let's be honest - it's produced and marketed for old people. She eats fairly expensive dry food, so I know she's getting a complete diet, and it's probably better for her than canned cat food which contains fillers and by-products, so it's not really the fact that she eats this stuff that bugs me. It's the fact that this shit is even on the market. This is very disturbing. Bleugh.

5. Had an idea for a great blog post as I was drifting off. Now? Pffft.

6. This song and video clip from "Blackpool." David Tennant's little hip thing at about 30 seconds in - and the wagging finger. Stuck in my head for 3 days now. Help me.

Fuck it. Might as well work out.

What am I bid for my apple, the one that made Adam so wise...

2009-03-06T09:53:00.000-05:00

Alan Rickman.

In a kilt.

Phhwwwwarrrrr.

Something for the ladies today. In the spirit of FMC and her gingerday, I thought I might start a Friday tradition* of my own and do a sexy kilted man.

Did I just say... do a sexy kilted man? That would certainly lift my spirits. Arfff, arfff, arfff... Ohhhh, sometimes I kill me.

How Alan would sneer at this blog post, at the very idea of himself, a serious actor, an intelligent and cultured human being, posted on some silly American woman's blog, as eye candy, objectified in such a demeaning way. How he would SNEER. Which would of course be even sexier. How's THAT for a feedback loop?

Oh dear.

*I'll probably lose interest in a few weeks, or run out of sexy kilted men photos to post, so we'll see how long this lasts. Oh well, at least there's Ewan MacGregor and David Tennant for the next couple of weeks. That's something.

Spring is coming - work that ass off.

2009-03-01T13:26:00.000-05:00

Current favorite elliptical workout CD. Almost exactly 50 minutes long, some great pumping rhythms, slower bits ideally placed so as to coincide with higher resistance in machine's pre-set interval training workout. Faster bits happen with the lower resistance 'sprinting' intervals. One exception - "Tubthumping" is the first song, and would go better closer to the middle of the disk, when you start to flag and need the lift. Otherwise, perfect.

In which I enlighten you as to the state of my health and well-being

2009-02-27T11:18:00.000-05:00

Evidently I'm involved in a war against my own body, which has been going on since the 80's. Here's the result of my latest skirmish, in which I employed the genius tactic of opening my office window and slamming my left index finger into one of the the upper wooden pane dividers. I won that skirmish, having completely subdued the offending digit.

I'll keep you all up to date as to the progress of the nasty bruise, which as of today is already three weeks old. This is going to take MONTHS. Good, I need blog fodder anyway. The fuzziness you see at the top of the bruise is the result of the nail growing, dragging bits of blood with it. Sexy, huh?

Here is a shot of the fingers of my right hand. Notice the middle finger is slightly bent? If you look closely, it's unmistakable. And the middle finger of my left hand is also bent, just in the other direction. This was done in high school, when I played basketball for my high school team. To be honest, I sat on the bench more than I played, (I am both velocity- and vertically-challenged, and I was afraid to wear my glasses in a game - not a good combo for the game of basketball. I later developed a good outside shot in an adult league I played in, since I could afford contact lenses, but in high school it was glasses or nothing. Perhaps it's worth noting that I also got my ass kicked in the adult league. Outside shot or no, I have no business pretending I'm an athlete). This was most likely the result of trying to catch the ball with my fingertips, rather than my palm, in practice. Though I do remember sitting on the bench during one game, literally taking hold of fingers that had been knocked out of joint, pulling them out, and putting them back in position with that sickening, audible crack. So I must have actually been in the game at least a few times.

Seems I'm always slamming fingers in doors, knocking knees on coffee table corners, stubbing toes on table legs, cutting my fingers open with cooking knives, in general getting a new bruise or cut daily.

But these are only minor battles compared to the war against the whole bodily system. This is where the real violence and hatred starts. The bitch wants to be fat, you see. And THIS WILL NOT DO. Now, I keep a pretty tight rein on the fat and cellulite rebellion by eating real food and exercising. But here's my latest thing: A yearly 'cleansing' to re-start the old digestive system, and clear out old rubbish. Since spring is coming, in addition to another ban on coffee, and a vast reduction in alcohol (wine on the weekends is fine. Fuck off - IT IS.), I'm taking this shit here:

You guys. There is stuff coming out of me that has probably been there since the 70's. Too much information? Tough. You guys don't come here for enlightenment and high art. (Do you?) But I have to say - for women of a certain age who have that midriff paunch that doesn't seem to go away with diet and exercise, this is supposed to help start the process of eliminating the garbage that's holding things up. And by things I mean the clutter and paste that's been gathering in your intestines and colon walls because of all the processed foods and chemicals you ingest.

Blee.

I'm on day 4 of a 7-day process. No HUGE reduction in midriff yet. But I did eat pizza last night, so that was a step in the wrong direction. My pants do feel a tad loose, but that could be my imagination. Will let you know. Why am I telling you all this? Because I can. Because if I die, and this blog goes silent for an even longer time, you'll know that it was probably due to an escalation of hostilities between my self and this bitch of a carcass I inhabit.

Aren't you glad you checked in?

In a better mood now, thanks to...

2009-02-13T13:24:00.000-05:00

Kingsford Goes to the Beach - Watch more amazing videos here

WANT.

Damn this work ethic

2009-02-13T09:45:00.000-05:00

Ever have one of those weeks where everything you touch goes tits up? The world seems agin' you, every e-mail you open at work is some fire to put out, some emergency, some stupid question from a student* that you answer eleventy million times a day, and the answer to which is in documents and guides that are available in 20 different places on the web site, and is available to ANYONE who cares to look it up? Everyone is dying to meet with you to give you more work to do, while taking you away from the work that you're supposed to be doing in the first fucking place? Meetings. Fuck 'em.

And, once again, I'm taking on projects that aren't even my job. But since I hate people who whine "that's not my job," and I have a personality that won't allow me NOT to do something that needs doing, just because it's 'not my job,' I can't simply refuse. Sometimes I wish I could be like Bartleby the Scrivener, and just reply "I would prefer not to."

But I'd like to know a couple of things: When did I become a fucking secretary? How did this happen, and did I, in some moment of sickening 'helpfulness' agree to it? How does one get rid of one's pesky work ethic? Is there a surgical solution? Therapy?

Banged in sick on Wednesday - and even though I truly wasn't feeling well, I felt guilty. Guilty about banging in sick for the first time since spring 2008. Guilty enough to shuffle around the house ACTING as though I felt worse than I did. You know the "Ahhhhmmm siiiiick" shuffle and whine, where your shoulders hunch, you drag your feet, with that self-pitying expression on your mug - like you're pretending to have plague when you only have a little stomach upset and sniffle. Come on, we all do it. I hate that person you become when you're a little sick, but play it up for effect - to no one.

And even then, I worked on a couple of projects from home. Yes, home sick - on e-mail, trying to accomplish something work-related. Honestly, that's drifting into the arena of the unwell...

I know, I know - I'm grateful to have a job, and a safe one, at this particular time, and in an economy where people are being laid off all around me, and the news gets worse every day. I KNOW! Bear with me, I'm just in need of a good anger-enema. This shall pass. (Bahhhhh - it shall pass. Get it?)

And something did cheer me up on the way home last night - oddly enough. It was the sight of the dead black branches of the trees, against the steel blue backdrop of the winter twilight, and the satellite radio, playing Motorhead's "Eat the Rich." I smiled a little, I must admit.

But then I came in this morning to a co-worker in one of her 'harping-on-one-tiny-detail-that-isn't-really-important-or-relevant-to-the-subject-at-hand' moods. Sure, let's belabor a point that we went over and fixed MONTHS ago, just because some student* is reading an outdated document and I've sent the student* the revised document anyway. Just fucking STOP before I go all esplody and flappy and shouty. Okay?

*Honestly, soon the word 'student' will become a general term of abuse. "Don't be a moron. What are you, a fucking STUDENT?"

I shall retire to my li-bray, Cuthbert. Tell all callers I am not receiving visitors.

2009-01-29T15:00:00.000-05:00

Pip, pip, my gentle dewdrops!

I am not dead. (I'm as surprised as you are.) I am simply doing other things.

I've decided that in order to read everything I want to read, and know everything I want to know, before I am DEAD, then I'm going to have to do a lot of reading and a lot of learning indeed. So that's all I'm doing. Got a gigantic stack of books for Christmas (people FINALLY learned that buying clothes for me is a very risky proposition - and that I'm very simple to shop for if you only look at what I fucking WANT and stop pretending that I like the same shit in the same poncy fucking colors they do, and that I'm actually bigger than I look, so nothing would ever fit anyway for crying out loud) and wisely hit my Amazon wishlist pretty hard. So my 'on-deck circle' of books is enough to keep me going till summer. Plus, I've added to my magazine subscriptions by subscribing to Free Inquiry, every issue of which is pure gold. GOLD, I tell you.

All this sitting in my little library/office, reading and absorbing all this great stuff has been enough for me to break my awful habit of spending most of my free time on YouTube, arguing with creationist idiots, right-wing dickheads, and (probably) 12 year olds pretending to be older and smarter than they are, about politics, science, religion and whatever else there is to argue about. I'm glad THAT was a phase. What a fucking pedant I was becoming. Yeesh. But Jesus Christ on a stick, what a bunch of stupid fuckers. The mere existence of people like that pisses me off, no end. And now I have to face it...I am one of those people. Fuck.

AND I've made it to level 8 in Bubble Town when I take my brain breaks. Just so you all don't think I'm being pretentious and affected with all this talk of "book larnin'." I can still enjoy a good hockey fight,swill pints, eat cheese, and giggle at my own farts with the best of them. I just know a bit more about history, literature and science than I did last year at this time. Don't argue with me, you philistines, I have facts. Nyah.

I've even gotten my TV viewing down to the occasional hockey game, one sitcom, and Dr. Who. The rest is unremitting gobshite, and I have my moments with the sitcom and Dr. Who.

"Television," she sniffed, "I don't really care for it."

(Though I had a skinful last Saturday, and watched this episode of Graham Norton with Dawn French and Jackie Chan. It may have been the funniest hour of TV I've seen in months.)

That is all.

****EDIT*****

If you are viewing this page on Internet Explorer, you'll notice the sidebar stuff has floated to the bottom of the page, due to the size of that lovely book and skull picture at the top. Resolution on that came out so nice I'm unwilling to change the dimensions on the picture, so read this with Mozilla Firefox, fuckers.

Strange Days

2009-01-09T11:30:00.000-05:00

What a strange feeling, being up before dawn in the winter. A hoochless week of many salads and little wheat (some, not much) has seen me up before the alarm for the last couple of days. How very odd.

Or maybe I'm getting old - you know how some old ones only sleep about 4 hours a night? Maybe it's early menopause. Whatever. I'll take it, if it allows me a little extra time to dick around at home before going to work, or leave a little earlier to get a head start through the traffic clusterfucks in Watertown Square. (Hear me, 5 Corners? Intersection of Pleasant and Main Streets? Three or four light cycles to get onto Main from Pleasant because ASSHOLES coming down from Main enter the intersection when they can see there's NO ROOM, and block Pleasant? What the fuck? ...Easy, rabbit. Yes, well it had to be said.)

Anyway - there is some good news happening in the world, believe it or not. Manolo's Shoe Blog reports that those monstrosities, Crocs, may be going away. Evidently their sales have plummeted and they're downsizing operations. Though I don't wish bad things on any business in these hard economic times...they deserve no less than failure, tears, eternal hellfire and damnation for inflicting us with these eyesores. Diversify or die, fuckers. Sadly, I predict we'll be seeing them attached to ghastly shuffling hippies of Cambridge for a while yet. But where there's hope, there's...hope.

Happy Friday, everyone. All three of you who may be checking here at all these days. Jeez.

whoah.

2009-01-02T14:22:00.001-05:00

I have felt (and smelled) better.

Our little party went well. I'd like to thank whoever did some clean up for me - when I got up this morning the kitchen was not nearly as bad as I'd thought it would be. Unless we have kitchen fairies, someone deserves much thanks.

We're not doing much today. Lying around in our pajamas and watching bad TV - not a bad way to nurse a hangover.

And I have time to contemplate the important questions:

Am I dead?
Who carpeted my tongue and how did I sleep through it?
Chinese for dinner?

I may have had a stroke. Stay tuned.

Visibility...shite, add alcohol and simmer.

2008-12-31T11:26:00.000-05:00

It's a snowy, blustery New Year's Eve in the rabbit warren. I've just watched the snow change directions a bunch of times, interspersed with gusts that make the street disappear from view. I LOVE THAT. A good day to stay in your pajamas with a good book, and a lap-cat. There won't be much in the way of New Year's Eve celebrations here - I view NYE and St. Patrick's Day as 'amateur nights' when people who normally don't drink and have no tolerance decide it's a good idea to go out and get polluted - making it an unpleasant night out for the rest of us. Not to mention expensive. No, our party happens tomorrow, when we've instructed all our friends to bring their hangovers here for a little 'hair of the dog' and commiseration, with football and music.

We're stocked with food and hooch, the house is clean, dust-free and vacuumed to near sterility in consideration of those friends who may be allergic to cats, and the entire gaff smells of lemon pledge. I haven't boozed at all since we got back into town from Connecticut - another spell of vertigo and a dull headache, like my brain has grown too big for its casing, has had me pretty much bombarding my system with vitamins, sleep, organic greens, and clear, non-alcoholic liquids. So I should be raring to go tomorrow, when I shall indulge in my New Year's Day ritual of the "ALL DAY MIMOSA" and destroy all the good my healthy living has done. It's all about balance, I find.

Let's hope 2009 brings better things. We have some things to look forward to, I think. A new president, with a functional brain and a higher-than-8th-grade vocabulary, for one thing. An end to the war on science of the last administration for another. I'm also daring to hope for at least some economic recovery - call me an optimist, if you will, but there it is. And the little things - Simon Pegg playing Scottie in the new Star Trek film (No, I'm not a trekkie in the least tiny bit, haven't seen any of the others and don't care much for the series, but that particular casting choice may be enough to get my arse in a theater seat.) The latest Harry Potter movie - don't take the piss, I think they're fun books and pretty damn good special effects films. The Bruins are going to do good things for the rest of this season and into the playoffs - looking forward to that. Plus a few home improvement plans - hardwood floors, some cosmetic stuff, some new furniture purchases when our finances recover a bit from the holidays.

Happy New Year!

Christmas Eve

2008-12-24T10:15:00.000-05:00

Happy Holidays, kids!

We're on the road in a few minutes, just thought I'd pop in and put up this nice Maxfield Parrish winter scene, and say I hope everyone's Christmas is fun, warm, safe, and joyful. I'll update with something next week, once we're back in town. I'll be on vacation through January 4, so there should be plenty of time for blogging. I love the academic calendar, I really, really do.

Design thoughts.

2008-12-05T11:00:00.000-05:00

I have one of those stereos that looks like a vintage radio - it has a turntable, cassette, and CD player, and it actually sounds pretty good. It looks great in my little study/library, along with some vintage prints and a Victorian looking loveseat and tiffany style lamp...you'd think you'd walked into a 1920's sitting room. With the exception of my desk and computer, there's nothing in the room that looks like it was made any later than 1940. And I've been pretty deliberate in decorating it that way - it's the only room in the house that I've bothered 'decorating' at all, since I spend most of my time in there.

But I was looking at some old TV's on line today, and I just wondered. Wouldn't it be cool if they would make some of these newfangled TV's with HD and flat screens and stuff with the awesome design features of old vintage TV sets? Or do you think I'm crazy? I don't know - I just think it'd be nifty to have a TV that looked like this in my living room, but when it's on, you get all the great picture reception and detail that comes with the modern HD technology. This isn't any bigger than the beast that's in there now, so even the big cabinet wouldn't take up any more space.

If your decorating is more in line with 50's kitsch, here's this little beauty. It would look great in someone's retro kitchen.

Maybe I'm the only person who would buy such a thing. But I don't think so.

When we were shopping for a new fridge I was disgusted to find that there are refrigerators on the market with TV's in the door. Now if there's a market for stupid shit like that, then surely...

Jack Black is Jesus.

2008-12-03T14:59:00.000-05:00

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

It's hilarious - too bad about all the singing and dancing though.

We're very popular with the neighborhood rodents.

2008-12-01T11:35:00.000-05:00

Got up yesterday morning to discover this fat little bastard demolishing the pumpkins on my front porch. I don't think I'll be decorating with pumpkins anymore. This was a damn mess to clean up.

Cute as all-get-out, though.

Four days off? Yeah, I'm thankful.

2008-11-26T19:00:00.000-05:00

Here's a pygmy tarsier. Just because. They thought they were extinct, and someone recently found some. He looks like a smiling little old man.

I lo'heeeem.

Off to Maine for the Thanksgiving holiday. Hope everyone who celebrates Thanksgiving has a happy and safe one. Anyone who doesn't celebrate it - what the hell, throw a big meal together, get some family and friends around your table, let the wine flow, and pretend you're a grateful pilgrim anyway. Fuck it, you only live once. It's just an old pagan harvest festival at its root anyway. You don't need to be a 'Merrican to have a harvest festival. Am I right?

I'm home from work, I have tomorrow off and I don't have a glass of wine in front of me yet. What the fuck am I doing sitting in front of the compu....

Miscellany

2008-11-19T11:00:00.000-05:00

STOAT!!!

Got a survey in the mail recently - asking if I was aware that a lot of fur on the market is actually cat and dog pelts, and that most of it is from stolen pets. Did you know that? I didn't. Hmmm. I don't know what to make of it. I have my doubts, but I suppose it COULD be true. Have you ever heard of someone buying a fur coat and finding they're allergic to it? It's a good bet it's because it's made of someone's cat. Bleugh. I do know my Luna would make a lovely coat - though it would take a lot to find enough cats as soft as she is to make a full-sized one. But fur is ugly. I object to fur on aesthetic as well as humanitarian grounds.

Haven't seen SPOUSE since 9 last night. He has a cold, took some medicine, and spent the night on the couch in the basement with Luna. It is unclear whether he did it on purpose and altruistically to prevent me being kept up by his coughing, or because it allowed him to be comforted by his old habit of sleeping with the TV on (something I can't do and won't allow in the grown-up bedroom), or because he just fell asleep because of the meds. Since Luna still lives down there, it was nice for her, either way. Evidently, our basement is now a 'special needs kitty' and parental sickbay. I LOVE having a big house. I slept like a rock with the queen-size all to myself (and the two other cats, but they're small).

I have recently started drinking coffee on occasion. Not every day like I used to, and certainly not the daily gallon I used to imbibe. Today is one of those days, because of the temperature dipping into the 20's maybe, that I wanted a nice, warm, comforting cup of Dunkin' Donuts ambrosia. It is probably for this reason that I'm jaked up and rambling all this inconsequential crap into the blog window. I have nothing important to say, but feel the need to update you all with the minutiae of my life, just to keep my fingers busy on this keyboard. THRILLED YET?

I also loved this stoat picture and wanted to find a post to use it in. I felt like that the last two days when my boss came into my office and asked me to do something complex and time-consuming - at 4:59 PM. She ought to know better, I leave at 5PM on the dot. I'm UNION, fuckers.

ALSO: VERY GOOD STUFF HERE. I laughed and laughed.

That is all.

Fuck YEAH!

2008-11-11T12:13:00.000-05:00

A heartfelt and eloquent statement. I couldn't have said it better, or without shouting and swearing.

Shame on you, California.

Can't explain it.

2008-11-07T23:16:00.000-05:00

Folks, I have just returned from a post-work beer (or 5) and delicious Guatemalan meal at a local joint near the supermarket here in Waltham. SPOUSE and I were the only Gringos in there and there was a lovely, inclusive and friendly atmosphere, and very good service and taps.

Though the music was loud, and shall we say 'not my demographic,' there were a few items that came on the jukebox that I absolutely fell in love with. One of the greatest things I've heard in a very long time was this song. Suddenly I found myself asking people, "who is this artist?" and "What is this song?" and shoving a Keno ticket and pencil underneath several bemused and confused noses.

I don't know what it's about, full of shite stereotypes and misogynist bullshit, and for all I know he's calling the woman something I wouldn't approve of (EDIT: Turns out it isn't full of shit stereotypes and misogyny - fuck me and my assumptions, huh?) - anyone who speaks Spanish is welcome to supply the lyrics and disillusion me. Also, the video is hideous... but the appeal has something to do with these fantastic horns and melody.

Horns. I fucking love the horns.

EPIC!!!!

2008-11-05T07:25:00.000-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen - OUR NEXT PRESIDENT!

For the first time in about 10 years, I am proud of my country. I've missed this feeling. I hope it lasts - and I think it will.

Uhhhhhhhhhh....

2008-10-31T10:42:00.000-04:00

No secret, I work in an administrative role in a graduate school. Key word: GRADUATE. This would indicate, presumably, that all our students came in with an undergraduate degree from an accredited institution of higher learning.

I just received a grant application from a student who dotted her i's with little circles.

I am so sad. Still - at least they weren't hearts or smiley faces. I would have torn it up and refused to process it. "Nope, sorry, you're not eligible to receive these funds for your education until you prove that you've progressed beyond the writing style of a middle-schooler sending notes in health class."

Yes, I have that power. No, I won't abuse it. Tempted though I may sometimes be.

Am I too old school? I don't give a fuck.

That is all.

Oh christ she got a picture phone

2008-10-22T16:01:00.000-04:00

This is my thumb. It has a thing on it. Not sure what the thing is, but there it is.

I also took pictures of this with a disposable camera. But when I got the pictures back from CVS, the pictures of my thumb were missing.

I think they thought it was a penis.

What are you gonna do?

Stupid CVS people.

Cooking Commandments

2008-10-22T10:04:00.000-04:00

#1: There is no such thing as too much cheese.
#2: There is no recipe or dish that cannot be improved by the addition of cheese.
#3: When you think there is too much cheese, add more cheese.

Circadian rhythms and drinking cheese.

2008-10-12T12:17:00.000-04:00

How great is autumn? Flannel sheets on the bed, boots and sweaters on my carcass, soup in the crockpot (today's selection: Cheddar and ale. Hence the drinking cheese reference in the title of this post - a mediocre soup, if I'm honest, but a great starter for some sauces, and an adult flavored macaroni and cheese later in the week. Fuck, yeeeaaaah.), playoff baseball, and early season, and therefore stress-free, football.

I have done my first good raking of the lawn, put the picnic table and hammock away, put my garden to bed, harvested all the rosemary and lavendar for drying in the kitchen (which smells a-MAZ-ing), said a not-so-sad good-bye to my summer wardrobe, for I do not like shorts and other body-flaw-revealing clothing items (ahem), and hauled out the delicious and comfortable - and comforting - fleeces, sweaters, and boots.

Yea, verily, I live in the best part of the world for autumnal pleasures.

And I have tomorrow off - HUZZAH!!!! I shall do some more housework, then adjourn to Fenway for game 3 of the ALCS. I shall drink Guinness, for it is now available at Fenway - though I may have to take out a second mortgage to buy the second round - eat one of those big, fat-bastard pretzels, and scream my fool head off.

Anyone want to bet I have to call in sick on Tuesday?

Jellybottys!

2008-10-10T10:49:00.000-04:00

BEHOLD...and WORSHIP!

Didn't know this existed and it has made my day.

I am a maelstrom.

2008-10-03T10:49:00.000-04:00

Very tired today. Very tired indeed. Stayed up to watch the debate, you see. What's that you say? The debate only lasted till like 10:40, that's not particularly late?

But you see...it took me two and a half hours to CALM DOWN. I really wanted a meltdown, or at least a smackdown, but I got neither. I was VERY disappointed. Damn her batshit craziness, the Palin wingnut did okay. She lied a bit, avoided the questions at times, said some stupid shit about gays making a 'lifestyle choice,' which pissed me off NO end, but she handled herself better than I thought she would.

Also? She pronounces nuclear "nookyoolur" and overuses the word "also." That cost me some sleep.

Thank fuck for Gnarly Head Old Vine Zinfandel and my kind, empathetic, forgiving disposition. (HEY now...)

Playoffs? Playoffs? You wanna talk about PLAYOFFS?

Yes, I shall be sleep deprived from now until the end of October because MLB insists that in the post-season there is no such thing as baseball-at-a-reasonable-hour-of-the-frigging-day. As Boston drivers continue to watch baseball into the wee hours, and their driving gets worse and worse from lack of sleep and loss of concentration, I'm predicting an increase in traffic accidents from now until the Red Sox done with the winning - which will PROBABLY be when they've won the World Series. Hey, I'm not complaining about my team making it despite all these injuries and sturm and drang we've been through this year. But last year, during the ALCS, I spaced out following another car into our work parking lot, and didn't stop and wait for the gate to close then reopen for me. Had the short, sharp, shock of the gate came crashing down right onto the hood of my truck.

Upside: The tougher and more beat up the truck looks, the more people will fucking YIELD.

All righty then. Two hours till the boozing begins. Cocktails anyone?