Me and little PacMan, right after we “made it rain” at Wonderdawg’s house.
I hope they don’t call me to testify…
No, I’m not taunting you, Grinchie. When I bought my sweetheart her Valentine’s Day card (year 17-no ring) at the Gold Crown Store, they snuck a free datebook calendar in the bag without my noticing.
This pamphlet is full of hints on how to celebrate all the holidays in 2007. All 57 holidays that they have delineated on inside front cover and throughout the calendar. Fifty-seven holidays.
I get eight paid holidays. State and federal workers probably get twice that many. Stacey Campfield should get 365. Eric Crafton should just take tomorrow off and then rinse. Repeat.
Regardless, I’ve obviously been missing out on some important Hallmark Holidays and the opportunity to pay $3.99 to wish someone a pleasant Purim. Or a dandy Doctors Day. Or an entertaining Earth Day. Or an acceptable Administrative Professionals Day. Or a nice National Day of Prayer or Nurses Day. Or a fabulous Flag Day or a fine Friendship Day. Don’t forget a passable Patriot Day. I’ll be expecting a crappy Citizenship Day card from Senor Crafton.
Eid-al-Fitr or Diwali? Not on my calendar. Sorry about that. I’m not intolerant, just ignorant. I did enjoy the tribute to Diwali on “The Office,” though.
Sweetest Day? I’m pretty sure that’s a midwestern thing practiced by the coven of Coble, Jag and B. Maybe if they sent me a carnation or something that day, I’d have a sunnier outlook about that particular holiday.
But what really chaps my buns is that among the 57 holidays, there is no mention of my blogiversary today. 400+ posts and innumerable embarrassing stories about myself and Hallmark doesn’t think I’m worthy of a folded piece of paper.
Fuggem. I’ll buy her flowers and make my own card next year.
…but will someone please explain to me why it’s ok to make a fur coat out of a racoon
but it is apparently unconscionable to make a coat out of one of these,
the Chinese Racoon Dog?
Now I don’t wear any fur, but I don’t throw paint on people who do. I love dogs, but I understand that there are cultural differences between Peruvians who eat grilled guinea pig on a stick and the cage full of the smelly little bastidges I kept when I was twelve.
* I loves me some “Tao of Pooh.”
RUABelle and I took a cooking class last night in the preparation of tapas. For those of you who have never been to Mirror or Rumba, tapas are a Spanish tradition of presenting a collection of small appetizer plates of very rich, heavily spiced and marinated foods to combine them all into a meal.
We ate all sorts of strange olives, mushrooms, caper berries, shrimp and goat cheese dishes, all drizzled with olive oil and exotic vinegars.
And already I’ve gone to the bathroom four small times this morning.
That’s right…I’ve got the crapas.
Thank you, folks! I’ll be here all week. Which is mercifully almost over!
I’m sorry. I just took an $87.50 nap.
I remember going to Kuhn’s in Belle Meade in 1975 after “The Sting” was released to buy a 45 of “The Entertainer” by Scott Joplin. I screwed up and bought a Billy Joel song instead. Hey, I was eight. I could barely read. Thus began a lifetime of disappointment with Billy Joel.
Don’t get me wrong. Billy was in excellent form and voice tonight, and his band rocked! I especially liked the numbers where the horn section went tri-saxual. His banter between songs was witty and personable. He played almost every hit I could think of, plus some cool deeper album cuts.
But I like a Krispy Kreme donut every now and then…I just don’t want thirty of them.
Lest you think I slept through the show, here’s the set list:
Prelude/Angry Young Man
Everybody Loves You Now
Ballad of Billy the Kid
Stuck in Nevada
New York State of Mind
Movin’ Out (Anthony’s Song)
Don’t Ask Me Why
She’s Always A Woman
Keepin’ The Faith
The River of Dreams
Highway To Hell
We Didn’t Start The Fire
It’s Still Rock and Roll To Me
You May Be Right
Only The Good Die Young
I’m glad I went, because it meant a lot to RUABelle, but for the cost of our two tickets I could have bought twenty, yes twenty!, of his albums on iTunes.
It was a late night because traffic was a bear and they delayed the start of the show. To pass the extra half hour, RUABelle and I played a couple of games. First we tried to find the youngest person in the crowd who wasn’t with their parents. We figured about 30 years old. Then we played count the black people in the arena that weren’t beer vendors. We stopped counting after 3. Cuz that’s all we saw. Oh well, I have to head to Birmingham at 6:30 tomorrow morning and back in the afternoon. So I guess it’s time to finish this nap in my own bed.
I’m not Catholic, but RUABelle is. I was baptised Episcopalian, and my grandfather was an Episcopalian minister. So outside of marryin’ and buryin’, most of my trips to church have been to that denomination. But I have to admit that I can probably count them with my shoes off.
Regardless of my heathenhood, I still usually give up lots of things for Lent as an act of self-denial in an attempt to better myself. Some years I have given up throwing rocks at whales. Once, I gave up my New Year’s resolutions for Lent. But of late, I have tried to take it more seriously. Usually the sacrifices have been food-related and easy to substitute for: fried foods, Chinese food, beer, caffeine etc.
Giving up fried food probably helped my arteries for a month and a half, but I don’t eat a lot of it anyway. Chinese buffets have been a weakness of mine for years, but there’s always some other cholesterol buffet smorgasbord somewhere to overfill my tummy. Giving up beer just led to a lot of George Dickel hangovers. Lack of caffeine made me feel suicidal during the 3-4 day withdrawal period.
Plus, I’ve already given up caffeine in an attempt to get my blood pressure into the non-stroke range without the use of medication. Now that I’m over the pounding headaches, it’s not that hard to manage. (Anybody want a half case of Sundrop?)
So whatever I give up has to be good. RUABelle and I thought about it and decided to bite the bullet. We’re going vegetarian for 40 days. Not vegan. We’re not that strong and we loves us some cheese. But we’re gonna try going meatless. The only out we’re offering ourselves is maybe some seafood since we’re going to New Orleans for three days during RUABelle’s spring break, and that would just be stupid to not eat seafood in that city. To rationalize it, we just started Lent a few days early.
So I’m looking for support and sponsors. Is there such a thing as a patch for vegetarians? A pork patch? Some chicken gum? (Ugh. I hate gum.)
RUABelle’s giving up sweets, so I guess I am too by extension. I don’t ever eat them anyway unless she starts the process. Plus, she’d kick my butt if I pulled out a chocolate bar or a dish of ice cream in fornt of her right now.
Did you notice I just typed “butt” in the last paragraph? That’s because the other thing I’m giving up is swearing. I’ve tried this before and it’s really hard. I slip up occasionally, but I figure as long as I’m conscious of it and try to modify my behavior, it’s not worth quitting just because I let the occasional “f-bomb” fly.
So the ole Dry Spot might be a little less interesting until Easter. Or at least a little less salty in the language department. What think you? The folks that use dingbat symblos to cover up their cussing for the front page of NiT-is that cheating? F*ck if I know…