Sometimes it does take a village…
The young lady I call my daughter will be turning 28 in a couple of months. I phrase it that way because I am not her biological father. I met her mother when mom was about three months pregnant, and raised her as my own, at least for a while. It was a fiery relationship, but the kid and I always got along famously.
A celebration, with little fanfare
Today marks a milestone- my 100th post here. Seems like a lot, in so little time. I started April Fools Day, and am surprised the words are still flowing, and my brain isn’t cramping for lack of subject matter.
In the next few days I will have my 5,000th visitor. I find that more surprising than the hundred posts. Like Sally Field said at the Oscars, “They like me. They really like me…”
It’s time to stop, take a deep breath, and smell a rose or two. And then keep moving forward.
So thank you, dear readers, for keeping me motivated and inspired. Here’s hoping my mindless ramblings don’t dry up anytime soon, and that you keep coming around to point and laugh.
Those Fabulous ’70s!
It’s a warm Sunday afternoon, and the Mariners are playing the Oakland A’s. It’s 70s appreciation day, and I’m getting a kick out of it. The uniforms are from 1977- v-neck jerseys, stirrups over socks, brilliant day-glo colors, the uniforms they wore when I was young and dreamed of being the next Babe Ruth. Other than a couple of glorious moments in little league, that dream went unfulfilled. By 1977, I’d discovered girls and cars and all that other fun stuff that makes coming of age so intriguing. It was a great time to be a teenager.
My super ex-girlfriend
I’m a little off-kilter. My weekend seems longer than usual. Is this a bad thing? Not so much. As I sit here, watching Bikini Girls from Lost Planet all alone on Saturday night, I have a bit of time to reflect on it all…
The Nectar of Nitwits
Today’s title comes from Comic Book Guy, in honor of the Simpsons movie premiere. I’ll try to keep it light-hearted, but today’s topic is a serious one. The fact that it falls on the opening day of the Oregon Brewer’s Festival is coincidence. I’ve been meaning to address the subject for a while, and since I had a craving the other day, it’s time for a bit of self-realization and introspect.
Hell is hotter than…
A.) A fresh-f***ed fox in a forest fire?
B. A two-peckered billygoat?
C.) A three-nutted tom cat?
D.) A four-legged Larry Flynt?
Maybe, but I doubt it’s hotter than my workplace was tonight.
Breaking news! Update after the jump.
I read the news today, oh boy!
As I was ringing up a couple of young men, one commented, “The last time I was here, a guy showed me a clipping from the newspaper.” He shuddered visibly. “It was about some guy-”
“This one?” I peeled the clipping off of our wall of shame, where amusing cartoons, wanted posters, lost cats, etc… all hang out. It read:
Jenniffer S*****r, who is biologically male and castrated herself using a disposable razor blade in her prison cell, claims the Idaho Department of Correction and its health care providers are violating her constitutional rights and subjecting her to cruel and unusual punishment by failing to diagnose gender identity disorder and treat her with the female hormone estrogen.
He passed it to his friend. I held up the plastic disposable razor for effect. “Aughh!” They grabbed their twelve-pack, and ran laughing for the door, like they’d just escaped the boogeyman.
It was Monday, and time to catch up on the weekend’s newspapers. The other item that gave me a morbid smile?
A man saved a young boy by giving him the Heimlich maneuver. He was choking on a Life Saver.
Delicious irony?
X marks the spot
While watching an old episode of The Sopranos, I got a blast from the past. The end credits, which have introduced me to great acts like RL Burnside, occasionally play old favorites. This time? ‘4th of July’ by the group X.
“Ooh! Scary stuff, kids…”
Instead of cartoons, I spent this Saturday morning watching a documentary about slasher films. Time for a spooky stroll down memory lane…
Rest in Pieces
A fellow blogger recently wrote a post about favorite pieces of clothing in ones wardrobe. His timing couldn’t be more perfect. I’m in the process of ‘wearing a shirt to death’.
Is this just a guy thing? Read the rest of this entry »
