Food coma and football related hypertension.

Today was just a big ball of pain and punishment. First off, I got up early to go to the Dirt Mall to get a new case for the phone, only to find that there apparently no people staffing their booths laden with open and easily accessible merchandise at 8:30 in the morning. This would not have been so terrible if I had not made a point to wake up early on a Saturday to haul my cookies down to the Dirt Mall in the Park (!), and hadn't gotten adequate sleep the night before.

After the unsuccessful trip to the DM, there was breakfast at Cracker Barrel, which is normally fantastical, except for the fact that I couldn't get a tea refill to save my life. Ben couldn't get his coffee cup to 1/3 empty before someone came by offering to top it off (something that actually irks him because it messes with his cream and sugar balance), but once he politely declined the 3,000th cup, the waitress decided that she didn't need to come back to our table for anything at all.

Now, if you know anything about my eating quirks, you know that I can rarely finish my food if I don't have accompanying beverage to wash it down with. Hence, my beloved double-side of hashbrown casserole could not be completely consumed.


This? Bountiful. Tea? Not so much.

Then, I went home, did some cleaning, then began watching the UF-Ole Miss game, which, if I talk about much here, will make my eyes start to bleed. Again. I'm just glad we have Mercy! Percy!, the one they call the Baby Rhino, and the littlest big man on kick returns, pictured below:


Brandon James, hauling ass 55 yards on a kick return. The player trying to give chase would then...


Tear at James' jersey like he was in a catfight, trying to shamefully expose his boob. (I mean, really now.)

Suffice it to say that I'm glad we came away with a win, it was valuable road game experience for the boys, and Urban will probably be tearing a whole bunch of people new assholes during practice this week because of all the penalties they amassed.

Anyway, after watching the first half at home, Ben and I made our way to Danhole's during halftime, where we watched the rest of the malady. From there, we headed to Sonny's BBQ, where we concurrently watched the Michigan-Penn State game (gah), the LSU-South Carolina game (double-gah), and the Michigan State-Notre Dame game (which, at the time was gah, but ended up being not-gah). The three of us then proceeded to go against all laws of decency and good digestive health and opted to get All-You-Can-Eat plates.

Did I mention that Sonny's will actually refill your food and drinks, and their drinks are almost the size of paint cans? And I was so happy that someone would actually refill my beverage with regularity, that my food consumption matched it?


You feelin' me, Murtaugh?

Oh dear, sweet, baby Jesus, that was hours ago, and I'm still hurting. And I'm burping up barbecue sauce like there's no tomorrow. The only consolation I have is that Danhole gave me the permission to smack him should he ever decide to break the his vow of "never ordering All You Can Eat again." Mind you, this is a vow he makes every time we go to Sonny's, and he breaks it, every time. I can't wait to go Baby Rhino on him.


No, Baby Rhino, despite your spirit and excitability, you can't do it for me. Otherwise,I'll have to tell his family how we managed to break Dan.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go pass out.

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Tagged. Like a little Bitch. Again.

And now, as is my duty, I present to you my Report on 7 Songs I am Into Right Now:

"Trogdor," by Strongbad. Since Ben has been catching up on all seasons of Buffy, the reference to Trogdor in Season 7 made me all nostalgic. Besides, there's nothing wrong with "burninating the countryside." Or the peasants, for that matter.

"Curiosity," by the Jets. Yes, you'd think that maybe "Crush On You" or "You Got It All" would be the more popular choice in my noggin. However, recently, I've become quite nostalgic about the first nine years of my life, and how much I did enjoy that pink "Jet Set" jogging suit I had when we lived in Jersey, and my brother had the 12" single of this song. Does this bring down the man-quotient of said brother, now decidedly not a fan of the Jets? All systems go on that one.

"Jealousy," by Liz Phair. Oh, let us hearken back to high school, shall we? No, the real reason I queued this song up again recently was there was a whole internal debate on whether what I was feeling was jealousy or anger. After identifying the source of this wayward emotion, and listening to this song a couple of times, I decided it was anger. Pure, unadulterated anger. Thank goodness for that, huh?

"Rump Shaker," by Wreckx-N-Effect. Maybe it's the hypnotic sax in the background. Maybe it's the unabashed use of thongs. More likely it's Spring Break time in these parts, and for some reason, I always think of this song when Spring Break rolls around. Damn you, MTV marketing! For now, all I want to do is zoom-a-zoom-zoom-zoom and a boom-boom! Fuckers!

"Going Out Of My Head," by Fatboy Slim. I've been talking to Stumpy a bit recently, and this song always reminds me of her. Several years ago, on Valentine's Day, I took the boys with me to go see her and my old roommate D's dance troupe perform. Of course, the piece Stump was in involved several female dancers dressed up in Prohibition-era looking outfits, who, upon hearing this song, lose their minds, strip off their clothes, and start dancing around poles. By their own admission, this added up to the boys' best Valentine's Day ever.

"Cool Rider," by Michelle Pfeiffer off the Grease 2 Soundtrack. I can't believe I'm actually telling you this. Oh wait, yes I can. I got stuck in another Grease 2 craving cycle. This time around, it was this, "Girl for All Seasons," and "Charades" (wtf?). It's been an interesting couple of weeks. All I can say is that at least it wasn't a Rex Manning moment. I'm saving that for next month.

"Do Somethin'," by Britney Spears. You didn't think you could escape a list from me without a Britney reference, did you? Oh, how I miss old, non-bald, non-crazy Britney. But that's neither here nor there. Thinking about it just wastes too much of my energy. The reason this song has been on repeat lately is because it's the assigned ringtone for my little sister. And the way it came to pass is actually quite funny to me. Want to hear about it? Too bad, because here it goes:

About two years ago, right before Christmas, Lil' E was in town, and we went out to dinner with Danhole. On the way back from dinner, I have this song playing. Lil' E starts bopping around to it, and says she likes it, which is a rarity, because our musical tastes don't often intersect. This is even more surprising, because she does not have the patience for anything Britney or otherwise pop-related that I have. Pleased with this, I play it for her again, and she's singing along, dancing around in her seat. She finally asks "Who is this?" and without hesitation, I say, "Britney!" quite amused. E, on the other hand, falls very silent for the rest of the ride. Insert a Dave Chappelle "Gotcha, bitch!" here.

And there you have it. I can't think of anyone else to tag, since they've already been, other than Danhole. And the chances of him actually doing it are slim, since the last time he blogged was back in the way back. Which, of course, was a long friggin' time ago. Dammit!

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You're on the ride. You might as well open your eyes.

Go ahead, raise your hand if you know this one. Anyone.



Anyone but Dan, who damn sure already knows it.



Anyone?


Oh, for the love of Heart-Kun, people!



Heart-Kun is not angry. No, he is merely...disappointed.


You all suck.

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I always ruin things.

Okay, thought of something to write about.

The other day, Ben and I were at the Dirt Mall. Apparently, at the Dirt Mall way south of us that we never go to, they now have a little stage for either a live band, or... wait for it... karaoke.

I know, it's blowing your mind, the possibilities. I just heard Danhole's head exploding somewhere north of here.

Anyway, I think they were doing karaoke when we were there that afternoon. Either that, or their cover band sucks total ass. Regardless, there was a lady on stage, doing her rendition of "You Were Meant For Me," by Jewel.

I didn't particularly care for her take on the song, but it wasn't terrible; I'll give the woman credit, because she could carry a tune much better than I ever could. But, as I am wont to do, listening to a song, no matter the singer, took me back down Memory Lane. This time I went down that road to a simpler time, when Jewel was still living in her van, I wasn't up to my eyeballs in student loan debt, and no song could escape a rewrite by one or more of the Suspects.

Take, for example, "Santa Monica," by Everclear, which fell victim to myself and Amanda, aka the Sack, when we introduced the themes of a person's visage and the act of sitting into our new lyrics. I'm sure you can guess which words in the line "I am still dreaming of your face" were replaced in our version.

We did that shit all the time, mostly changing songs to be about sniffing glue, sexual innuendo, mad cow disease, and Sacky's half-Jew pride.

So, it should come to as no surprise to anyone that "You Were Meant For Me" did not escape this same fate. I shan't post the butchering we did to those two particular lyrics. But, I can at least tell you that one of the lyrics was modified along the lines of the Everclear one, and the part where she sings "I'm half alive, but I feel mostly dead" was, well, similar to the Everclear one as well. I guess some themes are more prevalent than others.


Heh-heh. Blog five!

Back to where I was originally going with this: we're walking through the Dirt Mall, and Ben puts his arms around me and stops to listen to the lady singing. As she's finishing the song, Ben leans in close and tells me that it's about us.

As romantic as the whole scenario was, what with us standing together in a sea of humanity, listening to a love song about people being meant for each other, all I could do was stand there, silently think about Jewel singing this song about oral sex instead, and burst out laughing. This effectively sucked any and all romance out of the Dirt Mall.

Needless to say, this required a maximum of explanation to effect a minimum of boyfriend ego bruising.

I told you I was always ruining shit!

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Holidaze.

I know, I've stooped to trite, pun-like depths. Leave me be.

Bless me, Blogger, for I have sinned. It has been two full weeks since my last post.

I'm so damned beat lately. Christmas shopping, trying not to explode at work, weekends blowing by, and coming to the realization that I want to be back in the mental health profession yesterday will apparently do that to you.

I'm feeling really random this evening. My apologies in advance.


Darth Graduate layeth down the law: No Bike Parking.

I had to bring back the above classic from the "Star Whores" photoshoot, December, uh, '99? Shit. I need to sit down and think about that for a second.

Holy crap, that was back before Danhole had his hippie hair, and random 16 year olds in Buffy chatrooms would tell me that they wanted to eat him. Wait, was that revealing too much?


Danhole: described as "Yummy" by 45% of the readership of Tiger Beat, and 67% of the readership of Confessions of Lonely Househusbands.

Dear God, Christmas is a friggin' week from now. Have I done all my shopping? You bet your ass I haven't!

Sorry. It just seemed appropriate.

Now, I shall let your agony end and go to bed. Random, nonsensical posts make me sleepy.

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