Why, today is National Meth Awareness Day!
Go kiss your favorite Tornado Bait relative.
But not on the mouth.
Blech. I’d post the picture here, but I’d rather make it voluntary. It’s your fault if you click here.
That’s right, it’s finally November 30, and unless some sadistic bastard adds another day to November (I’m looking at you, Julius Caesar…), National Blog Posting Month is mercifully over.
And it’s about damn time. I made it, but the ole Dry Spot has truly run dry. My brain is a rocky place where ideas can find no purchase. But I had to finish, because I’m something of a completist.
I won’t stop reading a book once I start it unless I lose it, no matter how bad it is. I’m the guy that renews it three times at the library and then xeroxes the last four chapters at work or checks it out as a book on tape because he’s run out of renewals.
When I was a pre-teen, my mother gave me a Hardy Boys book. Curses! It was something like #37 of the series, “The Mystery of the Homoerotic Gym Coach” or somethinorother. Once I read that one, the obsessive/compulsive in me had to read them all even though I realized after about four or five that they were all the same damn story. Luckily, Franklin W. Dixon was already dead, so I figured I could get ahead of him. Then I found out that “Franklin W. Dixon” was actually a pen name for an entire syndicate of writers who were pumping out drivel like the proverbial million monkeys working on a million typewriters. Crap.
VCRs and TiVo have compounded the problem of my completism. Once I get hooked on a show, I must watch every episode even after I have stopped liking it. “Jumping the shark” does not drive me away. For some unknown reason, I felt compelled to tape every episode of “Seinfeld” and “Northern Exposure” when they were still in first runs. Probably because I was usually so baked when they were on, I thought I might want to rewind and find out what I was laughing so hard at. But I never watched any of the old tapes or even labeled which season or episodes where on the boxes of videotapes which still fill my basement. Had I known about the advent of TV on DVD, I could have saved myself a lot of grief and just paid a lot of money for the box sets which I wouldn’t watch. Oh yeah, I did that too. (See “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” “Sex in the City,” “CSI” etc. taking up room on our shelves waiting for me or RUABelle to remove the plastic wrap.)
TiVo understands me, though. It knows that I’ve never missed an episode of “The Real World,” “Road Rules” or any of the various incarnations of “The Real World/Road Rules Competition/Inferno/Gauntlet/Duel,” so it saves them for me. Many a night I hear a loud sigh emanating from RUABelle as she falls asleep listening to “This is the true story of seven stragers, picked to live in a house…”
The one good thing about this cold I’ve been battling is that it has let me catch up on my TiVo while I lay in bed, weak as a puppy. At my peak, I was up to 18 hours of “Mythbusters” clogging up the hard drive of my DVR. Now that I’m back to working full time, I’ve at least caught up to October. I figure I’m one sinus infection away from clearing the queue.
Is anyone else creeped out by Robert Jarvik doing those Lipitor ads?
I’m not sure I want medical advice from somebody who looks like Spalding Gray after they fished him out of the East River.
It’s the one that has already laid low half the folks I know. You know, the one with the sore throat that feels like you’re swallowing rusty razor blades that have been dipped in acid.
I’m gonna stay home today and try to lessen the duaration and severity of this thing with rest, Halls and Zicam. Any other advice?
Today’s Tennessean includes what must be their umpteenth “Parent’s Guide to NetLingo and CyberSpeak” in an attempt to educate (panic) parents about what their children are thumbtyping into their cell phones. Not only is this redundant and outdated, it’s not even informative as the only actual acronyms which they listed were:
LOL Laugh out loud
LOLA Laugh out loud again
BRB Be right back
TTYL Talk to you later
POS Parents over shoulder
TDTM Talk dirty to me
IWSN I want sex now
Illuminating work. I’m tired of seeing the same stuff over and over again. I know that internet safety is an important issue for parents, but I think BusyMom’s primer is a lot more valuable than this crap.
And also, it’s not just tweenagers and perverts texting each other anymore. What about the rest of us more erudite chatters? I offer for your edification, The Nashville Bloggers Guide to Cyberspeak.
KYRAR Kerry, your ribs are ready
GGAG Gunnar’s got a gun
BLM Brittney linked me!
TSJMFOU The Scene just made fun of us
BWMGCA Butcher wrecked my goddamn car again
SGAR Sista’s got a recipe!
C/S/MHAFUN CeeElCee/Smiley/McCeemey has an f’d up name
WJDYM Which Jag do you mean?
WRDYM Which Rex do you mean?
DMWDN Don’t mess with Dork Nation
OSN Or Sarcastro neither
EAU Edna’s acting up
PWSRTLOTDATBEAACTROVTIITOAMHAUB Perhaps we should raise the level of this debate above the base emotional argument and consider the ramifications of viewing the issue in terms of a more holistic and universal basis.
YSLNB You spell like Nemesis Boy
KSB Kat scratches back
BMAK BusyMom’s at Krystal’s
I promised a few folks I’d post some pictures of another or my favorite Sewanee gravesites. So here ya’ go:
We live in the Garnertown area of the mountaintop. Yup, it’s named after the famous moonshiner.
One more photo for you:
Two observations-First of all, Nellie the Nervous Pudelhund has obviously come a long way since she used to want to bite me and crap and pee all over me whenever I tried to pick her up. Secondly, I grow my beard out every Thanksgiving to see how much grayer it has gotten since last year. The answer is a lot.