So, Katie...

I heard that you were dating Tom Cruise. You have a whole actual teenager's worth of age between you, since he's 42 and you're not (I mean, 26). And you just broke up with Chris (was it the whole DWI thing? Because, I can understand if you don't want to be in one of those 12-Step relationships and whatnot).


Uh, eww.

Wow. I really wonder how this happened. And when I told Lori, I had to move to the side to avoid any potential flying vomit. But if you're happy, I guess I am. Just don't get any navy blue pants and white short-sleeved blouses yet. And maybe hold off on reading any L. Ron Hubbard for a bit. You know, save it for if you guys get real serious.

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"I love my sister... She's the best!"

Happy Birthday to young Erin, who turns younger than me today! She's busy trying to become a doctor and whatnot, so she has tunneled herself away in some medically-related hole for some time now, with little more than her enormous cranium and some soy cheese to keep her company.

Erin, I love you, and don't forget the advice I gave you before you began this medicinal endeavor:

"Hey, jackhole, don't forget: Don't become an asshole when you get to med school, like the rest of 'em!"

Well, maybe I put it more delicately than that.

I am now going to go do my laundry with some detergent named after a song by Nelson. Later!

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"Capa-town," my ass!

I just wanted to let you know that this weekend, at the barbecue I attended twice (meaning once with Danhole and again later with Riley, not meaning I attended it, had a "rewind day" a-la-Tru Calling, and re-lived it), I managed to find someone who not only appreciated my bright yellow "Liger" t-shirt, but also proceeded to spend the next five minutes spouting off favorite Napoleon quotes.

And, if that weren't enough, this person also managed to proudly proclaim a deep-felt affection for Pootie Tang (another one unabashedly close to my own heart), so deep that he bought the DVD twice (because someone stole the first one, which makes me wonder who the hell would steal a copy of Pootie Tang, and also makes me surprised that it wasn't me who did it).

I love it when you click with someone over something absolutely unconsequential, but treat it like you've just discovered the friggin' Holy Grail. I may potentially add this person to my meager will, identifying him only as one of my "main damies." Yeah, that's what I think I'll do. Sa-da-tay!

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"Did you happen to eat a gall boulder, then fall on your stomach?"

That show is just good!

So, the desktop computer and television have been moved into the vacated room across the hall. I still don't get why it was decided that my tele would be moved, as I now have no way to effectively fall asleep to it. Crap.

The desktop is going to be rebuilt (version 180.3 or something) sometime soon, and the laptop is going to reside in my room. At the very least, there aren't any wires running through the hallway that would entice Riley to nibble.

Now, the only thing that's going to be a bitch is that I have to put back everything that was cluttering my entertainment center and desk in some order (it's currently chaos packed into open boxes).

I haven't had much time to post lately. I've been cramming appointments into four working days, trying to keep productivity at decent levels. Also, I'm heading out on Friday morning for a five-day sojourn up the coast. Soooo, it's pretty much been head-up-my-own-ass time the past week or two.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's some dusting that needs to be done yesterday.

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Just an FYI.

My curiosity peaked due to the mini-maelstrom this afternoon, I sought out this little nugget of information, which is repeated often on other websites:

If it rains on your wedding day, you'll shed many tears during your married life.

Hmm. You don't say. Interesting.

There was another superstition about rain on your wedding day meaning you'd have lots of children, but I'm choosing to ignore that one. Pretty much a moot point, if you ask me. And I didn't see that one on more than two or three sites. So, there.

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Very bad things.

As one can infer from my previous post (see below), extreme irritation + the "Repeat" option on your mp3 player + obvious lack of chocolate = horrible emotional death drop. I'm sorry for all of that rot. Actually, no, I'm not sorry at all. It is what it is.

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"I waited for you here, but you never showed."

Thank you, Mr. Sweet, for the above, and the following:

I thought I knew you. I was in for a surprise. I let my love flow from my heart into your eyes. And then I found out that there was nothing I could know, or guess, about you. You'd go as far as you could go.

And it took me years to figure out that there was nothing I could give to you. And years to figure out that there was nothing you would take from me. And how can I describe the way you slowly took my hope away?

And all of the time, I thought I knew you.

I thought I knew you. But I wasn't even close. I had my heart set on little more than a ghost. And I thought I'd show you there was no way we could lose. I thought I'd force you to realize and choose.

And it took me years to figure out that there was nothing I could show to you. Years to figure out that you were never really going to choose. And how can I describe the way I slowly lost my love for you?

And all of the time, I thought I knew you.

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Best. Quote. Ever.

Someone told me something that really whacked me upside the head and left me stunned. I had half a mind to whoop this person's lily white ass. But then, said person redeemed herself when she said the following about an upcoming family event:

"Man, I'm gonna show up with my new tits, and I'm gonna wear the lowest-cut dress I can find, and I'm gonna say, 'Look what your Pentecostal ass is missing!"

I kiss the ground she walks on. I truly do. Names have been withheld to protect... well, me.

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"Are you telling me that my note made you realize that you're gay?"

"Let me tell you something: come 10th year reunion, that tiara... is mine!"

Sorry. Just been catching up on my Tru Calling, is all. What a fabulous birthday present in a community gift bag that was!

I watched the "Reunion" episode tonight. Really struck a chord with me. So much so that I had to eat a triple-scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone to cope. My needs are simple. My wants, ridiculous.

Some observations from the last few days:

• According to the front window at Burrito Brothers in Gainesville, they're going to open another one in Tampa by the end of the year! Break out the Ziplocs!
• On the car ride home, Sarah and I realized that her official theme song should be "Oops... I Did It Again." I can't believe we actually came to a consensus on that one.
• The possibility of 14 straight hours of karaoke is harrowing, to say the least.
• I don't need no stinkin' sunscreen.
• The 2005 UF Football season is looking better and better every day.
• My dog is still an avid Law & Order fan.
• With my impending takeover of Sideshow's old room, should the computer and tele move in there, do I call it a "Media Room," a "Library," or "The Copacetic Room"?

And major props to anyone who understood that last reference. Byron, how I miss you. You were like Brian from Zanesville, Ohio during freshman year, except you were much cuter and your cranium wasn't quite so massive...

Sorry, I digress.

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Law and Hors d'oeuvres.

I just had a fabulous idea while downing my fiftieth glass of Caffeine Free Diet Coke. The next in the long line of series in the Law & Order franchise should focus on all the eating that occurs during the defense of justice on the mean streets of New York City, particularly, the appetizers!

And instead of the "cha-chunk!" sound that plays during most of the scene transitions, they could sound a bell like in a diner, or a burp, or... oh, never mind. But I've got a good start, right?

Gah, I'm just going to fall asleep to another airing of L&O:SVU. It's a wonder I don't have litigious nightmares. Got a big day tomorrow, have to catch some rest. Love and devotion, thy name is Elliot Stabler. Goodnight.

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Feeling like a slug.

It seems as though my mental exhaustion knows no limits. I sit here, transfixed to the screen, and I have absolutely no motivation to do any of the tasks I have set before myself today.

This morning, Riley showed similar motivation. When I tried to get her out of bed so that we could go on her constitutional, she just looked at me and put her paw on my hand with the leash in it, as if to say, "No way, lady... ten more minutes!" I had to concur, and went back to bed. Then, my dog proceeded to try to eat my face. Silly little rascal!

Earlier this week, right before having the shittiest Wednesday on record, I was coming off another late Tuesday night when I decided to stop in to the Radio Shack to see about getting another FM transmitter. Before leaving, the ZipZaps display caught my eye, and I noticed that they had a black Dodge Viper available. I quickly purchased that, a ZipZaps Bigfoot Monster Truck, and hauled ass to Jimmy's Mom's house so that we could start up the Clearwater Kitchen Speedway.

Jimmy was quite surprised I bought him the Viper; I told him quickly that it was the only Viper I could afford to get him, ever. After assembling our vehicles (funny how this little R/C seemed to befuddle one of the great military engineering minds of our time), we proceeded to run a ridiculous number of laps from the beginning of the kitchen (where the carpet from the dining room ends), through the den, under the dish cabinet, around the back leg of it, and back to the fridge.

It was harrowing. Jimmy's Viper was so quick, the handling was ridiculously tight, and he went flying everywhere. The only reason I managed to win a decent number of races was because my truck was less sensitive to steer. But that didn't stop Jimmy from needing a "best three out of five," then a "best five out of seven," and so on and so on. I'm not kidding, we managed to break a sweat racing these damned things.

Eventually, Jimmy got the hang of steering the Viper. But I still beat him soundly. It was a fun way to spend some of the tiny bit of time he was in town. Next at the Adkins Kitchen Motor Speedway: Boggin' in the MUD!

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"Oh, my God. That's awesome. You totally have to do that!"

The above affirmation is why I would throw myself in front of a moving bus for Steph. What prompted it? I'll never tell.

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"Matty! THRILLER!"

Sorry, I just had to get that one out. I feel better now.

Craziness abounded, as usual, at work today. I had a ton of no-shows (which just make me feel like my day gets less productive as it goes on). One kid was pretty clever with her approach, however. The mom called the front desk to let us know that her daughter "Just jumped out of the car on the way to the appointment," saying that Mom would never see her again. It made me wonder if I personally did something to piss the kid off so much that she didn't want to come to therapy. But after two seconds of that wasted time, I moved on.

At least I ended the day well. My last kid managed to come in early, and he's a cool little skate kid who doesn't mind talking. Now, if I could only get him to stop beating the living crap out of his brother, we'd be golden...

Eyes hurt. Shutting them now.

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