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What's Playing on your Radio?
This is one of those post that has really no relevance.
Here's what's on my playlist this morning.
"PHD" - The Crystal Method
"Name Of The Game" - The Crystal Method
"Murder" - The Crystal Method
"Days Go By" - Dirty Vegas
"Ghosts" - Dirty Vegas
"Blowout" - The Crystal Method
"Trip Like I Do" - The Crystal Method
"Moses" - Coldplay
"In My Place" - Coldplay
"Come With Us" - The Chemical Brothers
"Keep Hope Alive" - The Crystal Method
"Star Guitar" - The Chemical Brothers
"The State We're In" - The Chemical Brothers
"No Such Thing" - John Mayer
"My Stupid Mouth" - John Mayer
"Woman In Chains" - Tears for Fears
"Badman's Song" - Tears for Fears
"Goodnight Song" - Tears for Fears
"Sowing The Seeds Of Love" - Tears for Fears
"Breakout" - Swing Out Sister
"Something About You" - Level 42
"Standing On The Corner Of The Third World" - Tears for Fears
"Lips Like Sugar" - Echo & The Bunnymen
"Steppin' Out" - Joe Jackson
"Deadbeat Club" - The B-52's
"Roam" - The B-52's
"Follow Your Bliss" - The B-52's
"Is She Really Going Out With Him" - Joe Jackson
"Look Sharp!" - Joe Jackson
"Mothers Talk - (US remix)" - Tears for Fears
"Sara Smile" - Hall & Oates
"Wait For Me" - Hall & Oates
"It's A Laugh" - Hall & Oates
"Kiss On My List" - Hall & Oates
"Did It In A Minute" - Hall & Oates
"Private Eyes" - Hall & Oates
"One On One" - Hall & Oates
"Say It Isn't So" - Hall & Oates
"Simple Things Part 2" - Dirty Vegas
"I Should Know" - Dirty Vegas
"Lost Not Found" - Dirty Vegas
"Midnight Rider (live)" - The Allman Brothers Band
"Stateboro Blues" - The Allman Brothers Band
"Trouble No More" - The Allman Brothers Band
"Burning Down The House" - Talking Heads
"Once In A Lifetime" - Talking Heads
"Take Me To The River" - Talking Heads
"Wild Wild Life" - Talking Heads
"And She Was" - Talking Heads
"Pretty In Pink" - The Psychedelic Furs
"Modern Love" - David Bowie
"Young Americans" - David Bowie
"Mad World" - Tears for Fears
"Steppin' Out" - Joe Jackson
"Harden My Heart" - Quarterflash
"You Dropped A Bomb On Me" - The Gap Band
"In A Big Country" - Big Country
"Come On Eileen" - Dexy's Midnight Runners
"Everybody Wants To Rule The World" - Tears For Fears
"Everybody Have Fun Tonight" - Wang Chung
"Addicted To Love" - Robert Palmer
"Luka" - Suzanne Vega
"The Lady In Red" - Chris DeBurgh
"Higher Love" - Steve Winwood
"One Thing Leads To Another" - The Fixx
"Our House" - Madness
"Magic - (radio mix)" - A Flock of Seagulls
"99.9 F" - Suzanne Vega
"Blood Makes Noise" - Suzanne Vega
"It's Different For Girls" - Joe Jackson
"You Can't Get What You Want (Till You Know What You Want)" - Joe Jackson
"Sunday Papers" - Joe Jackson
"I Melt With You" - Modern English
"Oh Yeah" - Yello
"Tainted Love" - Soft Cell
"Relax" - Frankie Goes To Hollywood
"Never Ending Story" - Kajagoogoo And Limahl
"Too Shy" - Kajagoogoo And Limahl
"Weird Science" - Oingo Boingo
"Everybody Have Fun Tonight" - Wang Chung
"Higher Love" - Steve Winwood
"Brian Wilson" - Barenaked Ladies
"Straw Hat And Old Dirty Hank" - Barenaked Ladies
"Break Your Heart" - Barenaked Ladies
"Jane" - Barenaked Ladies
"When I Fall" - Barenaked Ladies
"Hello City" - Barenaked Ladies
"What A Good Boy" - Barenaked Ladies
"The Old Apartment" - Barenaked Ladies
"Life, In A Nutshell" - Barenaked Ladies
"These Apples" - Barenaked Ladies
"If I Had $1000000" - Barenaked Ladies
2/28/2004 12:22:34 PM
This is the post I wanted to trash.
I was reading Jupiter's Hunter's post about her first memory. It was a wonderful bit of prose filled with warmth and texture. Beautiful, what memories should be.
My first memories were none of that, and more!
My first tangible memories were of the Apollo One rocket that caught fire on the launch pad. I was roughly two years old so I really don't recall much detail of it. I remember seeing the fire on the huge black and white television set. I also remember Montene. And Montene was ironing.
What is a Montene, you ask?
Montene was this 80+ year old "old maid" that my folks had hired to keep the kids while they were at work.
At first glance you'd think she was just some sweet old lady. She always wore a black cardigan that had pearls stitched into it. She had white, page-boy styled hair. And she wore those (I don't know the name of them) old lady shoes that were black leather and had square heels. Orthopaedic shoes, or corrective shoes of some sort I guess. From what I remember her build was very slight, but she was bigger than me. I was two or three at the time.
The woman couldn't hear, she could barely see, she didn't drive and she could barely walk.
Mary Poppins she wasn't. Of course she was my parent's prime candidate to take care of their three kids (ages 2, 10 and 12). What possessed my mom and dad to hire Montene? Only thing I can think of she must've been real damn cheap! Why else would two somewhat marginally sane parents entrust the care, feeding and safety of their beloved children to someone who obviously belonged in a nursing home?
Oh did I mention that Montene was EVIL?!?!
Let me say that again, Montene was E. V. I. L. That woman is still my benchmark of mean, despicable and decrepid.
Montene relished in her nastiness. I've got this mental image of her coming home (home? dare I say lair?) from a long day at our Torture Pit and doing a wicked little happy dance in those evil black platform shoes. Cackling in an evil witch laugh about the misery she could heap on us poor kids.
Cruel miseries like making us take cold baths in teaspoons of water. Maybe the concept of indoor plumbing was more than she could comprehend, but the baths were heartless. She would make me get undressed, then she would run water into the tub. Cold water. Not even enough water to cover the floor of the tub. Then she'd make me get in it. Of course I'd cry or wimper 'cause it was unbearable. She'd scream at me in this really strong, vile, wicked, southern dialect.
Another cruelty in her bag of tricks was her cooking. I remember her making us eat cold grits that she oversalted (with ground glass I bet).
I was talking to my sister about Montene the other day and she said she recalls an incedent where I had made "Mrs. Montene" a valentine. My sister said Montene threw it back at me and said "it's Miss Montene". Like I knew the difference. My sister wanted to tackle her... "here was this sweet little boy making a card for her, and she had the audacity to bitch about it".
I must admit though, vengeance is sweet. When I was 11 or 12, my best friend and I would sneak into her house (she lived about a mile away) when she was gone. We wouldn't steal, detroy or vandalize anything, we would just move stuff around. I'm not talking about small stuff like coffee cups or dentures... I mean really moving stuff, like her couch. I figured I'd send her to spinster Hades as (pre) payback for all of the therapy sessions she would eventually cause. Kind of a different spin on the concept of "Pay It Forward" I guess.
If I get turned away at the pearly gates and wind up in hell, I'm sure I'll see Miss Montene ironing and screaming "git een dat baahh-th boah!"
2/28/2004 11:17:02 AM
And all is write with the world
Quiet.
It's Saturday morning.
Leslie just left for a girls day/night out in Atlanta.
RZ is still asleep.
This stillness is so rare.
Even the dogs are in stealth mode.
I've got the whole day before me.
No plans and no obligations.
Simple.
Uh oh.
RZ's awake.
The tempo increases. The drama builds. Craziness ensues. The dogs are nuttin' up. The TVs on. Disney Channel's blaring.
Good bye morning.
'Til next time peace.
See you later quiet.
2/28/2004 09:55:06 AM
Wasting Time
I've been working on one post off and on for the past three days and it still sucks. I'm within a minute of throwing the whole damned thing in crapper. It's not that great of a read anyway. I think I've been trying too hard, I've been concentrating on making it entertaining and funny rather than just writing and it shows. Kinda like Bob Sagat.
2/26/2004 09:34:15 PM
------- Blogmadness Update: -------
My "No Ping" story has made it to Round 5 of Blogmadness. Yeah, color me surprised too!
The voting for this round cranks up in a few hours. "No Ping" is up against The Mudville Gazette's DEMOCRACY, WHISKEY, SEXY?. The "DEMOCRACY, WHISKEY, SEXY?" post is one incredible read! If you haven't read it yet, do yourself a favor and click over.
Hey, wait a sec... that's my competitor! Competition or not, I really enjoyed his post.
Anyway, when you get a chance click over to Blogmadness, read our entries then vote. Thanks.
2/24/2004 10:17:57 PM
I love these
commercials.
2/19/2004 11:05:23 AM
Ever heard someone "slurp" a chimichanga?
I think I might have an anxiety disorder or some sort of odd neurosis.
I don't know what it's called. I not even sure if it has a name, but the disorder seems to manifest itself under just the right circumstances.
The circumstances? Whenever someone does something obnoxious, repetitively. This covers a wide range of human behaviors: popping, sniffling, smacking. There are others, many others, but for now I'll just stick with the top four.
Gum-Popping
I realized that I might have a bit of a problem when I was in a waiting room yesterday and a lady on the other side of the waiting room was merrily double-timing her Juicy Fruit. Occasionally she would get the wad situated just right between her teeth and "pap... pap. pappapapapap... pop." It was like a Chinese New Year going off in her mouth! I noticed that I had stopped reading the year-old Time Magazine I had found and had commited all of my attention to this crime in progress.
I watched her. I sensed myself tensing up with every chew. Then "pap..." the noise seemed to sting my brain. I glared at her. "pap..." Doesn't this woman realize she is not the only "pap..." one in this room!?! Has she no dece"pap..."ncy? Then an angel appeared on one shoulder, and a devil on the other...
the angel: "let it go. trouble yourself no more."
the devil: "what say we go over there and ask her to make a choice... the gum or her teeth."
the angel: "Mark, there are far greater things to concern yourself with... Think of the love of your family. Now, doesn't that make you feel better?"
"pap..."
the devil: "How much you wanna bet her second chin can reach that damned scrunchy that's holding up that gray pony-tail?"
the angel: "Now Mark, this is part of the human condition and..." "pap...""pappapappapap..""pap..."
the angel: "...second thought... go ice the bitch! That's annoying as hell!!!"
Now I realize that I have the problem. She was probably oblivious that she was even chewing gum and I'm sure that if I would've gone over and asked her to quit popping the gum I'm sure that she would have happily obliged. Unfortunately for me I DO have "proper home-training" (it's a southern thing) and therefore would not have been able to embarrass her in such a way. That's a load of crap. It has nothing to do with home-training, I'm afraid I would've gone bat-shit crazy if I asked her to stop and she "papped..." one off just to be bitchy. One of us would've been bruised!
Sniffling
I went to see Big Fish the other night. It's a movie that's been high on my list of "to see movies" since it came out in December. It stars that guy from Trainspotting/Moulin Rouge and it's based on... Hell I can't tell you what it's based on thanks to the son-of-a-bitch sitting four rows behind me that had a snot problem!
I noticed his "whistle boogers" minutes into the previews. My God it nearly drove me insane! He "sniffled" at a rate of up to 39 times a minute (I counted!) for the entire show. For me, it became a snotty version of water-torture. At one point I almost stood up and asked him to "blow his nose so I could watch the damn movie". Better judment prevailed (thanks Leslie) and we finished the show. Even now writing about it gets me cranked up.
Smacking
I was taught that when you eat, you close your mouth when you chew.
Not everyone I have "broken bread" with has been taught this basic rule of etiquette.
I was having lunch with a friend of mine the other day. All started out well. We sat down, ordered our food, began a lively discussion about politics (his relationship with his wife) and the economy (his relationship with his "friends"-- I call them hookers). We joked around until the waitress brought out our meal. Then this guy went neanderthal with his food. I'm not sure if he was just hungry beyond comprehension or what, but he was enjoying his lunch on a completely different level! Ever heard someone "slurp" a chimichanga? Ever seen anyone pick their teeth with a nacho? And with every chew he took it was succeeded by a "smalck" or a "splouch" or a "splich" sound. Don't get me wrong, this guy isn't your average redneck-Jerry Springer type. He's what I tend to refer to as a respectable "suit" type.
Then there was the time we invited the kid from across the street to have dinner with us. [[insert disgust shudder here]]
The girl and RZ had been playing upstairs all day so when we ordered a pizza we asked her if she'd like to join us for dinner. She called her mom to let her know where she was and to let her know she was going to be eating pizza with us. We called Dominoes and ordered a large pepperoni pizza and within 30 minutes or so we had it on our table. We called the girls down and we sat around and served up the pie.
The across the street neighbor kid worried me.
She peeled off the pepperoni slices and ate them first, of course smacking with every bite. Then sucked the pizza goo off of each of her fingers. Then the cheese, she sucked the cheese down in one slurp. Then when there was nothing left of the slice but dough and tomato sauce she flat-tongue licked the sauce clean off of the crust before she finally gnawed down on it. After each slice she went back to her hands and licked each finger clean. It was sick! We had to watch this ritual through FOUR slices of pizza.
The whole dinner was so bizarre, sickening and sad.
Later RZ decided that she wasn't too comfortable playing with across the street neighbor kid anymore. Across the street neighbor kid has since moved.
That leads me to "issue" number four...
Jimmy Buffett
Now I'm sure that Jimmy Buffett is one hell of a nice guy. I'm sure that many of you probably enjoy his music, as I once did. But I have shared an office with someone for the past few years that plays his music non-stop, all day, every day, day in, day out.
I know the words to every Buffett song. Not by choice.
Frankly, when I hear "Cheeseburger in Paradise" I wish for freshly sharpened number 2 pencils to be jabbed deep into both of my ear canals. When I hear the first few riffs of "Why Don't We Get Drunk (And Screw)" I sing to myself "why don't we get drunk and screw up office mate's sound card and speakers".
Really though, whenever I hear the man sing all I can think of is somebody is sexing up a goat! Some days, it's all I can do to hold myself together when I hear him wail about all of his beachy endeavors.
Sometimes it's just too much.
What scares me about all of this is I'm only 39. I've just started becoming a cranky old bastard and I'm finding it all too easy!
2/17/2004 08:38:09 PM
Fish Story
I was over at Dooce and Blurbomat looking at the baby pictures and reading about all of the wonderful misery that new parents go through. Afterward, I decided to stroll down memory lane myself and got out all of our photo albums. There were our pre-kid pictures, complete with that "I want you right now!" look on each of our faces. Then there were the post-kid pictures, complete with that "I want you to die right now!" look on each of our faces. There were the RZ growing up pictures. Christmas pictures. Birthday pictures. Vacation pictures. The pictures reflected either milestones in our life, or at least the fact the we were fiscally able to afford film and developing at the time. You know, good times.
I came across a few shots of a trip Leslie and I took to the Caribbean. Normally I wouldn't write about a vacation, but this particular venture is rife with blogworthy-ness.
Back in '93 we set off for Maho Bay on St. John Island in the Virgin Islands. Being tree-hugging, eco-tourist that we were at the time we decided to stay in the Maho Bay Camp. The place was beautiful, and there was plenty to do. You could: explore, sail, windsurf, scuba, snorkel, fish, eat, drink, shop or just lapse into a coma on the beach. All-in-all the "camp" was pretty cool, sparse, but a really neat place. We stayed in our own cabana (hah, cabana... it was a tent with a kitchenette) nestled in the rain forest and over looking a blue bay.
Our first day there was warm, but overcast and drizzling. The rain didn't keep us out of the water though, within the first hour I had on my mask and snorkel and I was face down in the ocean checking out the reef that was right out my back door. The water was "Evian" clear, you could see forever. There were fish of all sizes and colors, sea turtles, starfish, stingrays. It was an underwater eden.
We explored for hours... Face down... In the tropics...
At the time, we didn't consider the fact that even though it was overcast we still needed to take precautions against sunburn. Seems that the cloudy sky only slowed the burning process. Not to mention the fact that the little bit of water we were in: (a.) kept our skin temperature cool while (b.) it acted as a magnifying glass on the rays that were reaching us, therefore rendering us crispy!
Of course we didn't realize it until much later that night, but my God we cooked our asses off!
So here we are, our first "us" time since RZ had been born. We're tucked away in a romantic shanty in a tropical rain forest, a mountain view out one window and a view of a blue lagoon out of the other window. The tradewinds are blowing through our cabana/tent, the candles around the place are flickering in the breeze, setting just the right mood for Leslie and I to share... SUN-POISONING.
Oh shit, it was horrible! Leslie still has scars on her butt where she baked her skin off. My burn was so bad that within a couple of days the skin on the back of my ankles split open and the wounds started weeping, as did I. Thankfully I had a prescription for some really heavy pain-killers that I had brought along. The first night and the next day we were "uncomfortable", but sedated. If I remember correctly, when we ran out of the 'scripts we just started drinking heavily to dull the pain.
Did we pack it up and go home like most sane people would? Ah hell no! We had spent money on a good time and by God we were going to have a good time! Pain be damned! Now we're tourists with a vengenance. Drunk tourists, gorked out on narcotics, but tourist all the same.
We start looking for things to do.
We walk up to Maho Bay's clubhouse to see what else the island had in store. We perused the activities list. As I mentioned before there was lots of things to do on the island, but in our sauteed state there wasn't many things that "we just had to do". One of the activities the camp offered that seemed to be a crowd pleaser was a guided, night snorkeling tour. "See the Reef at Night... It's Amazing!" read the brochure. "$125 per person" also read the brochure. We talked about it and decided that's what we wanted to do. We figured that we could handle snorkeling at night, no sun... no pain. We also figured that those Maho folks must've been smoking crack if they thought we were going to pay them $250 to take us swimming. I had noticed a dive shop in the little town on the way to the camp. I figured we could go to the dive shop and buy underwater flashlights for $30 to $40 bucks a piece and we'd be in the water for around half of the price of what they wanted to charge per person, and we'd go home with a couple of cool, waterproof flashlights!
Now there is a reason why they charge $125 per person. Only at the time we never even thought to ask ourselves why.
~~to be continued~~~
I've been R.E.M. blogging... Sleep... I must have sleep!
Part II
Supposedly the reef is teeming with life after dark, we were told that there are "many, many MORE creatures at play in the water when the sun goes down". Just hearing the words "more creatures" had us foaming up, eager to get on with our little National Geographics adventure.
 Later on that evening, with the brand new, hot pink, waterproof, flashlights in one hand and our masks and snorkels in the other we walk down to the beach to begin OUR version of the "Ocean Quest night snorkel". The sun had set, but it was still light out when we geared up and got into the water. we tooled around close to the shore for a while, always mindful of "the buddy system" we stayed pretty close to one another as we ventured out further into the bay. Time started flying by, before we knew it we had been in the water for well over two hours and it was dark. We noticed the nightfall, but it didn't concern us. We just kept oohing and aahhhing (which by the way sounds alot like porn when you have a mouthful of snorkel) at every new sight.
Leslie's flashlight beam would land on a huge parrot fish and the damned thing would seem to glow. Or my beam would fall on a clown fish feeding around a sea anemone. Occasionaly when one of us would see something really cool, we'd pop our heads out of the water and say "d'you see that?" and the other would let out a snorkeled audible "uhhhh-hhhuh".
At one point while we were face down, the water around us turned into this quivering soup of fish. Apparently we had startled a school of fish and now we were in this living mud. Millions of tiny "guppies from hell" were freaking out all around us. Literally they were all over us, they were in our hair, our ears, our swimsuits, everywhere (yep, there too!). In blink they were gone.
We both popped up, unnerved as hell and spitting fish.
"You ok?"
"Yeah. You?"
"uh huh."
We collected ourselves for a few seconds, put the mask and snorkels back on, then we were back exploring. By now it was REALLY dark! We kept swimming. Our only field of vision was within the beams of our flashlights. I remember thinking to myself how creepy it was that all of this life was around us, but we could only see within the thin cone of what our beams could spotlight.
We kept swimming.
Our beams would dart back and forth searching for the next new sight to see.
Then our beams converged on it. Let me rephrase that... our beams locked onto IT. And time stopped.
There, not 20 feet away from us, was the largest eyeball I've ever seen in my life! I have no idea what kind of creature was behind that orb but that fucking eye was the size of a hubcap.
The eye glanced once in Leslie's direction, then glanced over to me. I almost chummed in my swimsuit. We were in a deadlocked gaze with something WAY bigger than either us could've imagined.
We blinked first. Our heads popped out of the water simultaneously.
me: (calmly) "d'you see it?"
Les: "uh huh."
pause... pause... pause...
me:(still calmly) "wha' say we head back?"
Les: "yeah."
We calmly turn around then break into this panicked "swim for your life" effort to get to the shore. I'm practically "Jesus trotting" across the water I'm swimming so hard. Rooster tailing it I tell ya!
Then I hear Leslie say... "Mark. Where are ya?".
I stop swimming and answer "I'm right here." Seems like, in an effort of self-preservation, my subconscious said "screw the buddy system. swim! swim if you want to live!"
"I'm over here!" to which Leslie replies, "keep talking, so I can find you."
Now I'm starting to reach defcon 1 on the panic meter.
Not only are we being chased by "satanic guppies", and a fish the size of a large condominium, but now my wife is lost at sea, and I've lost my bearings... I don't know where the shoreline is. For all I know I could be swimming towards Venezuela.
Needless to say we find each other (please no comments about the old cliche two ships that pass in the night, I might vomit.) then we get back into the "buddy system" groove. This time we're holding each others hand while we swim, but we're still lost. Finally I see a dark outline of an anchored boat that I noticed earlier in the evening as we were heading out. Once I get an idea of the boat's position, we swam towards it and off in the distance I see a light that I recognized in the camp. I know where we are! But we are a L-O-N-G way from the shore.
We finally make it back to the beach. Once there we crawl up onto the sand and try to catch our breath. Completely out of energy, still hurting from the burn and hungry beyond belief we slink back to our cabana/tent and crash for the night.
We didn't leave the tent the next day. Sunburnt, exhausted, hungry, in a tent, in the middle of the summer, with no AC. My, aren't we are having a swell time! I bitch facetiously. Actually that was one of the neatest places we've ever been. Another really neat (although some somewhat less thrilling) thing happened while I was there. On the day we left home to go to the airport, I stopped and picked up a copy of John Grisham's book "The Pelican Brief" to read while I was there. I finished the book on the exact same beach that the main character was on at the close of the book. I didn't read ahead, nor did anyone clue me in that the character would wind up on Maho Beach in St. John. I was blown away.
By week's end I had actually adopted this too-cool island vibe. I recall taking the Maho shuttle bus down to the little port town several miles away from camp to check out the place. On the way back, the shuttle was loaded with a herd of fresh-off-the-boat vacationers. I remembered thinking to myself... "Fucking tourist".
2/11/2004 11:04:54 PM
Update: Holy Crap, I can finally breathe!
I've finally gotten through the projects that were tearing me a new one. They're pretty much put to bed now, and things can get back to normal. I've been wanting to post, but mentally I've been wiped.
2/11/2004 10:05:35 PM
Down to the Wire
As I post this round three of BlogMadness is in it's closing three hours. My "No Ping" story is up against "How to Handle a Divorce" by The Evangelical Outpost. So far it's been a pretty tight race.
If you get a chance go take a look, read and vote for your favorite.
2/9/2004 08:23:43 PM
Should I?
Well I've been trying to birth a new post since Saturday to no avail.
Should I write about all of Bush's new wrinkles I noticed yesterday while watching Meet the Press? Oh my God they were deep, but no.
Should I write about the birthday/slumber party? Not until after electro-shock therapy.
Should I write about the skydiving venture I had when I was twenty-three? No. Maybe later.
Should I write about stuff I did when I was single? Ah hell no!
Should I write about news and current events? No.
Should I write about Janet Jackson? Eeeewwww. No. No. No.
Should I write about the Grammys? Uh uh.
Should I write about the anxiety regarding two deadlines I'm facing at work this week? Yeah. That'll do!
Here goes...
I'm riddled with anxiety right now 'cause I've got a couple of deadlines this week. These work issues have gotten into my weekend and have been my first waking thoughts as well as the last ones on my mind before I fall asleep. As soon as I find resolution to these problems all will be well, the lion and the lamb will lay together (but not in a non state-sanctioned way though), and there will be peace on earth.
I know I've put more "weight" on these deadlines than I should, I just can't get these blocks off of my mind.
2/9/2004 07:35:58 AM
I try to stay away from stuff like this, but...
I caught the news yesterday morning about the death of Carlie Brucia. It completely ripped me up.
I let my mind wander for a bit, just to try and empathize with Carlie's parents. I found myself in a pretty brutal frame of mind. Without being too graphic, let's just say my thoughts centered around that guy, a pair of kitchen shears and a large bottle of isopropyl. I would so inflict mayhem on that bastard!
Sorry.
Now back to your regularly scheduled posts.
2/7/2004 04:45:31 PM
Bahaaa!!!
I got home from the trip the other night.
I was tired so I turned in kinda early.
I woke up the next morning and this note had been slipped under my bedroom door.
This is rare.
My life rocks!
Today and tonight will be blogworthy I'm sure. We're having a birthday party/slumber party for RZ. If I survive, I'll let you know how it goes.
2/7/2004 10:34:50 AM
!
Rene Zellweger and I got in a huge knock-down, drag-out this morning on the way to school. It amazes me how much slamming on brakes, and coming to a complete halt in the middle of rush-hour traffic can emphasize the point that "oops, you just crossed THAT line". It's like a huge freakin' 144 point exclamation point. Granted it's not the smartest thing in the world, but it is definitely an argument closer.
I really have a hard time with conflict. I tend to stay calm, cool and collected until it goes on for too long then I totally "nut-up" and either slam on brakes, or break a hand, or start speaking in tongues. Don't get me wrong, I'm not physically violent (ok maybe I am, but not to another person), and I'd never hit my kid or my wife (besides Leslie would beat the ever living shit out of me... the thought of that is humbling enough in itself). I just have a tough time dealing with conflicts and tend to avoid them like the plague.
Anyway, I guess I'm writing this to ask for penance/forgiveness/pass the peace pipe 'cause when I dropped RZ off at school I was still pretty pissed. Now, I'm heading out of town for the next couple of days and I just want things to be "all shiny and happy". Just in case I get hit by a low-flying dog or something I don't want to check-out on a bad, raging, "dad you're a sumbitch" note.
2/3/2004 01:27:35 PM
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