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Saturday, February 04, 2006

And So It Begins......Again

I honestly cannot believe I haven't posted anything since 9/28/05.

I also cannot believe George Bush is the President of the United States, that NASCAR is popular as it is, that anyone finds Kate Moss attractive, that no one seems to realize that Oprah Winfrey is the Anti-Christ, that anyone cares about Jessica Simpson/Paris Hilton/Donald Trump/Lindsay Lohan, that the Rolling Stones are still alive or that there are people that still watch television without TiVo.

Sorry about that. I inadvertently opened a can of pop-culture whoop-ass without even realizing it. Either that or I've been reading The Superficial way too much.

Anyway........I digress

I can actually believe I haven't posted anything for as long as I have. Life, as it seems, finds things to keep you away from other things. Whether it's planning a wedding, having a wedding, buying a car, getting a new job, going to Christmas parties, Christmas shopping, planning a New Year's party or having a New Year's party, it is truly amazing how quickly 9/28/05 becomes 02/04/05. It's one of the things I've become most cognizant of over the past couple of months, time (in all it's forms) literally flashes by. I suppose it is one of the inevitable consequences of growing older. You begin to realize how quickly your life speeds by. Even if it's only being amazed that you got up this morning at 8:00 and it's already frigging 11:00. How the heck can 3 hours have passed by already, I haven't done a damn thing?

Yikes......that was deep. Note to self, knock that crap off.

In any event, I offer a heartfelt apologize to all 2 or 3 people that ever read my little prattlefest. I'm resigned to getting back on the blogging horse. I really missed it. It's a truly cathartic way to get stuff out and off your chest. Plus, it makes for great reading days/weeks/months/years down the line when you have a little more distance from whatever it was that so infuriated/annoyed/saddened/shocked/disturbed you at the time. Trust me on this. It's good times. You may be embarrassed that your loving wife posted a video of you on the internet provocatively smacking the bulbous ass of a marble statue at the time, but you will howl with laughter about it later. If for no other reason than you realize your mother might stumble across it one day (while searching the internet for recipes, or herbal remedies or woodworking projects or new cross-stitch patterns or whatever it is that a mom does after she discovers the Internet) and start to have second thoughts about the son she used to love so much.

I'm sorry Internet. I hope you'll forgive me. In the coming months I'll fill you in on all the "stuff" that kept me away.

I just hope I can remember most of it.

.....um yeah, that might be a problem.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

I've Got To Have Something To Show For In September

I've had a lot to do lately. It's put quite a dent in my blog entry creation time. Not that I or anyone else has to blog. It's not like respiration or sex.

Yes people, like sex. Sex has to be had. HAS. TO. I've gone without for long stretches of time. I know what I am talking about here. Just trust me. DSB (Deadly Semen Buildup) can be a crippling and debilitating affliction.

........Mom, if you have in fact found my blog and are actively reading it, yes I have the sex. And no, I don't blame you if you disown me now or never let me come over for Thanksgiving dinner anymore.

Anyway......

Before I got on the random tangent train, I was trying to convey that I am going to work on getting back into the swing of bloggery. The long list o' stuff to do is getting closer to ending, so I need to get back to this world o' words.

But first a little private moment of jubilation;

THE FRIGGING INVITATIONS ARE DONE AND ARE IN THE MAIL!!!!!

If you've ever designed your own wedding invitations and then put all the designed pieces together by hand, you know what I am talking about. I haven't felt this relieved since Zoom and I finally went and got our taxes done last year.

But more importantly, it official people. We are really getting married.

Either that, or we spent thousands of dollars and invited a hundred or so people to a really fancy party just cuz'.

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

It's The Thought That Counts, Not The Back-Ass-Ward Way You Get To It

I'm having sort of a conversation with Zoom whilst taking a shower.

I'm espousing my euphoria at how good the cool water feels on a warmish muggy night.

I yell out, "You can have the bed tonight, I'm camping out in here tonight". "In here" being the shower. I get my typical stinky faced response of "Yeah Yeah Yeah".

The pseudo-conversation continues as I tell her that if I could figure out a way to Hannibal Lecter strap myself to the shower wall, I'd let that frigging water run on me all night. I'd finally be the perfect temperature and I'd be out like a light in no time. Next month's water bill would put us into hock, but I'd sleep like a baby. I continue to say that if I could do what they do in the Space Shuttle (only in the shower), that'd be good sleeping times.

Zoom pipes up (in a very "Your mom sews license plates to your butt, how do you sit" kind of Real Genius moment) with "They strap them into the shower in the Space Shuttle!?" I say, "No, they strap them into bed, otherwise they'd float around all stinking night long". It'd be like sleep walking without the walking part.

Then "it" and the corresponding physics of "it" hit me. "It" being the thought I alluded to in the title of this little prattlefest.

Who cares if you float around all night? I mean, aside form the possible danger of floating into one of the turbo thruster buttons or the big red button they always have in spaceships that opens the door out to space. You know, in case Ellen Ripley is on your particular voyage and has to dramatically dispose of a rascally life form.

Here's my point, if you're in space and there's no gravity and your weightless, why not lock yourself in a harmless room and close your eyes? Let it happen man. Just turn off the lights, close your eyes and fall asleep. You wouldn't have to fumble around for a comfortable position, because without weight or gravity, they'd all be the same. You wouldn't have to worry about falling asleep on an arm or awkwardly on your back/side/stomach, because you are weightless and every position is the same. Every position is the most comfortable and least bodily stressful position. Inertia isn't even an issue. Assuming no one exerts a force on you mid-sleepy time.

Perhaps there's some deeply routed psychological barrier to allowing a human to sleep floating around? What do I know? I'm the guy that wants to sleep in the shower.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Zoom Colored Glasses

Story #1

With no exposition.
With no segueway.
With no foreshadowing whatsoever.

My darling fiance' turns to me in the car and says as though it makes complete sense at that particular moment in time, "Cantaloupe makes me itchy".

Story #2

In the midst of prattling on about various people we work with.

Zoom: "Did you see that Talula isn't wearing a bra today?"
Me: "No, you know I don't how I could have missed that"
Zoom: "You should really check that out"
Me: "I'll see what I can do"
Zoom: "Her boobs are like smushed sand castles"

Story #3

On our way to one of our favorite LA supper places. Again with a complete lack of warning or hint of any kind.

Zoom: "LA makes me want to smoke"
Me: (As we were mired in inexplicable Saturday afternoon traffic!) "LA freeways make me want to drink"

Story #4

As we enter our building one morning and notice that the crotchedy and cantankerous useless security guard has a bandage the size of futon smothering his forehead.

Zoom: "Ten bucks says he fell down"

Sunday, July 31, 2005

Yes, As A Matter Of Fact I Do Like Girls

This entire post sponsored by the Reverend Brandy.

Particularly her post "The Spank Bank"

Her story reminded me of an old story I thought I'd share. But to do so requires some exposition about me. So here goes.

A lot of people (mostly guys) who meet me for the first time think I'm gay. I don't know if it's how anal retentive I am about dressing and color coordination or if it's that fact that I have so many friends that are women. I don't know if it's the fact that I enjoy some musical theater or the fact that I can pick out a good wine when asked. Most of them know that I am straight, but make jokes to the contrary all the time. Because my shoes and belt are the same color. Because I treat women like human beings. Because I've seen Phantom Of The Opera 10 plus times. Because I've been wine tasting numerous times without being forced. Because I like to shop and have more shoes than most women. Because I am not the frat boy-beer chugging-misogynistic-stereotype male. I must be gay, right?

Now couple that with my sincere love of people watching. I LOVE to go out and watch people at the mall or restaurants or whatever. People truly astound me. It's usually because of what they are wearing. It amazes me what so many people think is acceptable to leave the house in. There are so many people with simply ghastly personal hygiene. I always say that I am WAY more concerned about appearance and hygiene than most people, but there are some people that simply have to be stopped. It's just nasty.

Which leads me to my old story.

At the old firm where I used to work I had a lot of girl friends. We used to go out to lunch all the time. Now, when these lunches took place during the summer, the real fun would begin. You see, my girl friends from the old firm were very attractive. They were 3 different body types, but each was very attractive. When summer rolled around, they'd be dressed in mini-skirts and tank tops and sun dresses and halter tops and what not and that's when the sharks would really start to circle.

So what I would do is hang back from them as we went where ever it was we were going for lunch. I had some of the most fun I have ever had watching guys literally going into seizures as the 3 girlies would walk past them. They'd stop and gawk. They'd pat each other on the back and point. They'd wolf whistle. They'd turn the other way and pretend to bump into them to start a conversation. I'm telling you it was amazing the affect they had on guys. If there was two or more guys, it seemed like it was some sort of genetic predilection that they had to make some sort of scene over the girls.

Now, please do not misunderstand me. I adore women. There have been many times when I have been stopped in my track by a beautiful woman. But, there is a difference between that and launching into the idiot vaudeville routine I've seen so many other guys fall into when a head of blond hair and a set of boobs walks by. I guess I look at a beautiful woman like any other wonderful experience in life. It is meant to be savored, not slathered with drool and bravado. And if you feel uncontrollably compelled to tell a woman she is the most beautiful creature you have ever seen, you can do so without the smarm of a balding used car salesman.

Had I been in a graduate program for sociology, this could have been my master's thesis. "The Female Form's Affect On The Male Pack Mentality". That would have been good times.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

The New Super 8 Camera

It hit me today while I was watching some A&E crime program with Zoom that the blog is the new Super 8 Camera of the information/internet age.

You know how you always see those crusty and grainy home movies that Uncle Olaf shot of your 4th birthday party at the pool? Or the embarrassing pre-prom movies your parents always show you around the holidays? Just like it seemed that every baby boomer family was somehow how issued a Super 8 Camera to record ever bit of familial minutia, so too has the blog been issued to every person, family, grandparent, great aunt or battlefield corporal to record the same minutia in painstaking detail. We get to look in on every single person's life. Only without the painful grit or nauseatingly unsteady camera work from Uncle Olaf.

Case In Point.

Today's Entry. "El Loco".

Zoom and I are out test driving cars on a weekday night. Test driving surprisingly turns into car buying (more details later). The deal takes a little longer than expected (I'm usually pretty good with buying a new car - in and out in about an hour and half). Turns out the car I want needs a certain widget replaced as part of an aftermarket recall. Whatever. Fine, let's get the sale set up now and you can replace the framis or p-valve and I'll pick it up next week. That decided, it still takes almost 3 hours to set it all up.

It is now about 9:00-ish and we are starving. We head on over the El Pollo Loco to make with the eating. I order Zoom her customary BRC No C and I begin to order my usual 2 Chicken Breasts and flour tortillas, when the squawky box stops to tell me they have no chicken. Realizing it is late and actually being thankful the place is even open, I am still taken back by what the box just told me.

Confused, I repeat "You have no chicken?"
The box says, "Um yeah, we ran out of chicken today"
The gears in my brain seize as I say, "You have NO chicken, none at all?"
The box agrees with a "Yeah, we have no chicken. We just ran out of it today. Sorry."
It's funny now as I fire back with "You're El Pollo Loco, and you don't have any chicken. I guess you can just cancel the order then."

This stuck with me all the while Zoom and I were laughing and driving to the next El Pollo Loco. How can a place with the name of a foodstuff in it's name be out of the foodstuff in question? I could not get my mind around it. It'd be like going to Burger King and them telling you they were out of burgers. More to the point, why the hell are you frigging open if you have run out of the stuff your place is supposed to be all about selling? Do you get that many people coming to a place named and famous for their chicken ordering only french fries and pinto beans?

Maybe it's not as weird as I think it is. Maybe I was just really hungry and looking forward to my Chicken Breasts.

I still think they could have served the community better by blacking out the "Pollo" in their neon sign to let people know.

Monday, July 11, 2005

It's The Mechanics That Fascinate Me

I got into a discussion with Zoom the other day about alternative lifestyles.

I know what you're thinking, but it's not exclusively that.

I am talking about all ways of living that differ from the "norm". Whatever the hell that is.

I'm talking about gay couples. I am talking about the couple where one works and the other stays home (not necessarily to care for a child, but because the other "worker" makes so much frigging money working, that the "loafer" doesn't need to work). I am talking about polygamy.

The constant tenant with them all is that I am fascinated with the mechanics of how they "work". I don't have anything against any of them. Be happy. Do your thing. Whatever works. But the budding sociologist in me, what's to know how they work.

If you have a sugar daddy/mommy, how do you get pocket money? I mean, I understand the whole paying your bills/rent/mortgage/insurance/medical thing, but how do you get pocket money? Is there a shared account that you can bleed whenever you want? Are you like a SUV, do you just pull into the cash pump every once in a while and fill er' up? Do you have to whine to your daddy/mommy for pocket lolly?

If you have more than one wife/husband, how do you know where to sleep at night? Is there a roulette wheel of love? Is there a set schedule of shagging?

If you're gay and single, how do you know who to approach and who not to? Is there a speical hand shake or facial gesture that tips you off? When you finally get to the moment before your first same sex kiss, are you nervous? Do you hink to yourself, "Alright, this is it, after this there is no turning back"?

I'm a simple man. These are the things that I wonder about. Talk amongst yourselves.

It's Picture Time Again

I got engaged in Ireland. It was only the second time I'd been there, but I knew that after the first time I went, I had to bring the love of my life back there to ask her for her hand. I loved the place. Always will. Amazing scenery, beautiful people and surprising brilliant food.

.....and let's not forget the Beer and Scotch. Ah gidde' up.

That's about the best segueway I can think of as to why you are about to be inundated with pictures from Ireland. It's a truly remarkable place. If you haven't been. Go. Seriously. Don't wait until you're 30 like I did. You will love it.

If you do make it to Ireland, make sure you make it to the Cliffs Of Moher. They will blow you away.



You should also try to see the ancient monastic settlement of Clonmacnoise. The age and history of it or amazing. I don't know if you'll catch a glimpse of the reclusive/indigenous Irish stinkface, but you might get lucky.



This is Frodo. Zoom is in the picture because she's cute and for reference. Frodo is the cutest little dog I've ever seen. If you go to Roundwood house, look him up.



Ah, those wacky Irish. They start them in the fine art of international relations and hospitality at a very early age. Waterford was particularly warm and fuzzy. This made us laugh. A lot.



I told my Irish real estate broker that I was looking for a little out the way place, where I could enjoy some peace and solitude. I think she came through in fine form. I dropped a couple of quid on this beauty.




With all it's simple ways and beauty there are still a lot of the hassles of modern life and civilization in Ireland. The traffic is a real bitch. But don't worry, we didn't have a cow about it and were able to steer our way around it. Is that the manure that stinks or that pun?



Go to Roundstone. Go to the coast. It's worth the curves and driving. There's an old graveyard on the beach. Walk around and soak up the history. Then grab a pint and some garlic grilled oysters at O'Dowd's.



This is Sheridan the Magnificent. He LIVES to fetch. He's another resident of Roundwood House. He will fetch every stick you throw and carry them all in his mouth at once. This is his tough guy ready to fetch posture.



This is Kylemore Abbey. It's a nunnery/girls boarding school. It is a brilliant site. Beautiful and scenic grounds. But the best part is truly the Abbey gift shop/commissary. I had the best frigging turkey/gravey/stuffing sandwich I have ever eaten there. I purchased every one of the sandwiches they had they were so good.