Saturday, December 25, 2004
Friday, December 24, 2004
The Stupidining Update
Day 2, the stupidining
Thursday, December 23, 2004
One Tiny Bitch
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Brenda Lee, coming on strong
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
The Dog Whisperer
Monday, December 20, 2004
The Winter Solstice
Friday, December 17, 2004
In which I confess a deep dark secret y'all already know
Pop Culture Ruination Day
- JC Chasez is what happens when Milhouse from The Simpsons grows up and gets contacts. I can no longer enjoy The Simpsons.
- Montgomery Gentry cannot smile. Instead, they appear to sneer menacingly, even in their love songs, which leads me to spend a lot of time shuddering when I see their videos.
- Jesse James, custom motorcycle builder extraordinare, cannot spell and posts on his message board in all caps, thus my love for him has died.
- Both Jamie Lee Curtis and Signorney Weaver have a certain something about them that reminds me of my mom. I don't know which is worse, the terror of watching Aliens or True Lies and seeing my mom in those situations, or having my mom come and visit and never once catching her blowing anything up or shooting anyone.
- Shooter Jennings is friends with Kid Rock. Imagine the drunken evening that ends with you naked between the two of them.
- The Dukes of Hazzard. Cooter, Cletus, Enis, Rosco Pervis Coltrane. . . Is it just me or do those names all sound like pet names for genitalia?
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Let's talk about the Constitution
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
That New Book Smell
Monday, December 13, 2004
Girls and Cars
The Kind of Thing that Goes Terribly Wrong with Chili
Friday, December 10, 2004
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Things the Nashville Tourism Board Won't Tell You
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
The Day of Hobbits
Monday, December 06, 2004
The Sheriff around these here parts
Isn't that weird? I wonder if folks from the Sheriff's department drive around town gazing enviously upon the Metro Police, missing the days when they also had the power to carry a gun?
Sunday, December 05, 2004
The Rising Star Fife and Drum Band
The Guy Down the Hall
Thursday, December 02, 2004
I've been sick
- The new couch arrived. It's humongous and green. It looks like three Green Bay Packers are nestled together in my living room. Still, the dog loves it. For those of you who've slept at my house, you may recall that Mrs. Wigglebottom wheezes very heavily when you are sleeping some place she wants to be. Why she deliberately wheezes instead of barking, I'm not sure, unless she wants to be able to argue that, though she was doing something annoying, she was doing it very quietly, and so, if you woke up, it must have been on your own, but now that you are up, could you move over to make room for her, or get up and let her out? Well, yesterday, the orange cat was sleeping on the new couch and I was working on the Professor's afghan, when I caught Mrs. Wigglebottom wheezing at the cat, who was clearly sleeping where Mrs. Wigglebottom intended to nap.
- The Professor's afghan. I started an afghan for the Professor. It's less complicated than the afghan I made for Miss J and her lover, which is good, because that one almost killed me, requiring, as it did, a great deal of math and the ability to make many things all the same size. I wanted to make for the Professor an afghan that was reminiscent of a peacock. Instead, it more resembles a camouflage drag queen. I thought the problem was the yellow color I chose for the stripes, but last night I decided that one of the other yarns is to blame. Oh well, if it's ugly, she can always leave it in her closet.
- The new couch again. We had a moment of ugliness last night when I made clear that there will be no stinky illegal activities on the new couch. The ugliness was alleviated a little bit by the humor of me having to call the Butcher on my cell phone because the couch is so big that we both can sit on it and not hear each other. This may also be because we both have stuffy colds.
- Seizure dogs. So, I was half awake for part of this show on the Sci-Fi channel about dogs that can sense when their owners are about to have epileptic seizures, and thus warn them so that the owners can sit down and get prepared and thus don't hurt themselves. That is pretty cool. I wonder if Mrs. Wigglebottom has any extrasensory perceptions. None that I've noticed, but I'm going to keep a closer eye on her.
- My darling nephew called last night. He's three, as I may have mentioned. He asked to speak to Mrs. Wigglebottom. "Where's S*die?" he asked. "She's right here, scratching herself," I said. "Talk to her?" he asked. But I couldn't get her to come to the phone. Not that it mattered. He just kept chirping "S*die, S*die, S*die" until my dad took the phone away from him.
- The Super Genius also called last night, which must have been very strange for her as both the Butcher and I were whacked out on cold medicine and trying to decide what to eat. There was a fight about the phone book, and I believe the Butcher insinuated that the Super Genius had hidden the phone book so that we could not have Chinese. This is quite a feat, considering the Super Genius lives in a large Midwestern city and we don't. Even after we managed to order Chinese, the Butcher became very upset at how long the pizza was taking.
- The plaster cast. So, seeing how sick the Butcher and I both were, I thought we'd both turn in early. No, instead, he had a girl over. This is fine. But it meant that this morning, I had to ask him something I hope none of you ever, ever, have to ask your brothers, which is "Is that a plaster cast of your penis on the table?"