It would have been bad enough if we had watched “Pootie Tang” once yesterday, but we had to watch it twice. Tivo is killing us. Today, I watched an episode of “Columbo” (one with Jack Cassidy) and two episodes of “Sports Night.” It’s my last day of vacation, my last real day to get shit accomplished, and yet here I sit on my ass watching the shows that Tivo has laid out for me. Pathetic.
Linette just left for the store. Before she left, she told me to make banana bread with our rotten bananas. I assured her that I would, and then, as she pulled off, I ran in to her computer where I started this entry. I’m a Blog addict. There’s no doubt about it.
Actually, that’s not quite true. Before hitting the Blog pipe, I ran upstairs and shaved my two-week old beard growth into a mustache that flows down over the corners of my mouth like a waterfall pooling at my jowls. I know there must be a name for it, but I don’t know what it is. I think the leather guy in the Village People had one. If I get motivated, and if Linette doesn’t come back too quickly, I’ll post a photo of it. Every time I grow a beard, I tell myself that I’ll tryout some new designs when I’m shaving it off (before returning to work), but I always forget. This time I remembered, and for the rest of the night I’ll know the joy of looking like a gay biker.
When I was looking at myself in the mirror, I thought about the possibility of wearing it in to work tomorrow. I’m a fucking chicken though.
Last night, we had friends over. The plan was to go out an grab a beer. Instead, we sat around our living room and drank several beers. During the course of the evening, and I don’t know how this happened, the conversation turned to the subject of my becoming an invalid. Specifically, everyone was chiming in to say whether or not they would change my diaper. You can’t leave the fucking room for a minute with these people.
Linette and I went to eat at Big Boy this morning. When the folks at the table beside of us got up to leave, Linette asked me if I’d been listening in on their conversation. I told her that I hadn’t, and she told me what she’d heard. The father was apparently offering to take sexy photos of the 20 year old daughter for some modeling contest she’d read about in a magazine. This conversation was interrupted when the mother found an eyelash in her omelet. Upon looking said eyelash over, the daughter announced, “It’s not even your eyelash. It’s a Mexican eyelash.” I got mad at Linette for not nudging me earlier so that I could have heard it.
Oh, I just got this note from a reader names Jeremy. It concerns the Christian paintball phenomenon that I mentioned yesterday.
yeah i play paintball and have heard of the cpa (Christian Paintball Association). they are some serious fanatics, for instance there is a very top end gun named dark angel you cant use one if you play with them. and you cant use diablo paintballs theres a few more examples but their madness is truly mind boggling.
OK, I have to go and get started on the banana bread now. See you later.
