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Skipping past Writober and Nanoblomo . . ? Shit, I dunno. I'm as bored as you are.

 

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Soccer-Sleeping

I had the opportunity to watch a lot of soccer over the weekend. Some U.S. mens “friendlies” and an MLS match. And, more than once, I think I fell asleep watching. I know, True American response. Still, it’s hard to admit. I want to be the ardant soccer supporter, but there I was, in my father-in-law’s recliner, totally “one-eyeing” it . . . and then NO-eyeing it. Michelle’s voice cut through the darkness, “Honey, you are totally sleeping.”

“No, I’m . . . I wasn’t. I was just resting my eyes.” *

Only a minute later did I realize that the score was different than I remembered. And if I could “rest my eyes” during all the hoopla the commentators make when someone scores a goal in soccer, I MUST have been asleep.

* My grandfather’s favorite cover for cat-napping.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 05/30 at 03:52 PM
SportsWeekends (2) Comments closedPermalink

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Finale (or FINALLY!)

I’m happy that McPheever won American Idol. What’s that you say? No, see, although TayHick was crowned “American Idol,” he has to record whatever aural compost the AI producers can shovel together. And that makes him the loser. Plus, the kids aren’t gonna like him anyway.

Meanwhile, over on Lost (which I was determined to watch before going to bed so as not to stumble onto all the revelations this morning), we got thoroughly mind-fucked and now I can’t wait to read Newsweek and Entertainment Weekly so I can understand what we saw.

In other news, I had a (very) long lunch after dropping my mom off for a doctor’s appointment. To kill time before picking her up, I grabbed a mocha and went home to listen to my supersize MP3 player (read: the desktop computer in our bedroom) and worked on some poems. I made the executive decision to put the half-dozen poems I have “in progress” to bed. They’re either finished or done. We gotta keep that creative-writing ball on the move, kids. And seriously, I was in my twenties when I started some of those motherfuckers.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 05/25 at 03:30 PM
Boob TubePoetry (1) Comments closedPermalink

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Crossroads

When it comes to summarizing an entertaining and/or eventful night, one should probably sit down to blog that shit when one’s still drunk. That’s why this blog is so boring. Even to me. I’m never capturing the moment. Unless I’m in the moment. Which I almost never am.

So, Michelle was gone for most of the weekend. And it really is purely coincidental that I spent a lot of the weekend making discoveries and assessments about my life. You were warned:


shaken and poured by Scott-san on 05/23 at 03:17 PM
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Friday, May 19, 2006

Exasperate Me

I’ve been told by two of the people who see me the most that I sigh a lot. And if I’m completely honest with myself, I’d say that I do it a whole lot. Emphatically and loudly. With eye-rolling.

It’s Friday and this is the first lunch break I’ve had this week wherein I didn’t have to run an “errand,” so I’m eating at my desk. Which I enjoy for its solitude, and lack of necessary energy to leave the office. Most of my “errands” this week, however, have been somewhat related to me forgetting to bring my lunch to work. There’s irony in there somewhere, right? I’ve finished eating, I’m listening to the latest Arab Strap CD, and I’m desperately slamming out a long-overdue, mildly interesting, stream-of-consciousness post.*

So, I’ve been eating lunch at home (20 to 25 minutes roundtrip from work) this week, or at my mom’s. And I’ve been catching up on those DVR’d season/series finales. So far, West Wing had a nice poetic, full-circle feeling. Invasion, too, considering it might not be coming back. We had a DVR-related conflict Monday night because of President Dumbass’ address regarding his bowing to the GOP’s immigratred (you like that, don’t you?). I’d planned to DVR the finale of How I Met Your Mother, but noticed that CBS didn’t have time blocked off for the speech, so I called Michelle (later, on my way to band practice) to have her set up that show and the following hour of programming so I’d be sure to get it . . . whenever it started and ended. Well, looking at the queue later, Michelle saw that How I Met Your Mother was in there, and figured it was fine, so she deleted Two and a Half Men. As a result, I only saw the first 10 minutes of the HIMYM finale. Can anyone tell me what happened?**

Oh, and I stuck to my guns and did NOT watch the Grey’s Anatomy finale.

Michelle’s leaving very soon (as of me typing these words), and she’ll be gone until Sunday. Those Girls are getting so popular . . . in the Southeast, anyway. Anyway, I’d been trying to plan my weekend. Of course, I’ll be shepherding Mia to all the visits and playdates we have lined up. I’d figured Michelle’s parents would be keeping Mia and her cousin one night this weekend. Tonight, Pretty Girls Make Graves are playing here and I was half-interested in seeing them. The venue had been advertising Giant Sand was opening. But just the morning, I read that it was Giant DRAG. And I’m pissed. Because that would’ve made a difference when planning the weekend. But it’s okay, as I think I’m going to support my friend while he spins retro music at Tallahassee’s Premier Elitist Hipster Snob Bar tomorrow night instead. That’s where I’ll “end up,” anyway.

This evening, I’m taking Mia to meet Uncle Glory Hole for some bar food and trivia that will surely keep Mia out past her bedtime. In the morning: The Woodvillians!

* It turns out that the answer to the question, “Can I write a blog post in 27 minutes?” is “No.”

** Yes, I realize I’m a gaybo. Oh, and I Googled and found some details from that missed finale. Note to CBS: You might wanna consider rerunning that motherfucker, motherfuckers!

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 05/19 at 03:30 PM
Boob Tube (3) Comments closedPermalink

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

The Beach Would’ve Owned “Something About Mary”

Y’know how, hypothetically, all your friends are hot for Cameron Diaz and want to have dirty sex with Cameron Diaz, but when you look at Cameron Diaz, all you see is her little-boy ass and her face-like-Ms.-Pacman? Well, the beach is my Cameron Diaz. And vice versa.

Seriously, I don’t like the sun or heat, I don’t like having to spend 15 minutes lathering up with SPF 45, I don’t like salt water, and I don’t like . . . beach culture. That said, if I were open to enjoying the beach, this past weekend would’ve been the ideal time. A full moon, unseasonably cool and windy afternoons, surprise fireworks courtesy of a wedding in a nearby hotel, good food. Of course, not everything can be so rosy, which is why God invented bulleted lists. And the beach. Observe:


Michelle has some pictures at her Flickr page of the weekend’s festivities. Reportedly, next year, we’ll be bringing other people with us. I’ll do my best to keep my job for another year.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 05/16 at 04:04 PM
RoadtrippingWeekends (3) Comments closedPermalink

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Lonley . . . Oh so Lonley

I try and make a habit of checking my “junk email” folder fairly often in case another local reporter wants to get ahold of me for a story he’s doing on Tallahassee bloggers. Because, y’know, everyone likes a little heads up before they’re outed. Anyway, lately, I’ve been noticing the trend has been shifting from penile-enhancement to guilt-free sex with strangers. The newest of these reported that I could find a “fuck friend” (or, according to the subject line, an “online.ffuuck.frriend”). The message included a URL link (NSFW). With a misspelling. Of course, I deal in misspellings all the time here, but if you’re dealing in high-end spouse-swapping or pimping out wives whose husbands are over in Iraq fighting for FreedomTM, you shouldn’t have misspellings in your URL. Oh well, I guess I won’t be patronizing THAT site.

Oh, and in honor of Styro’s Hells-Satans-patented rumor-mongering “filthy, filthy mouth,” I’m going to start the rumor that all of us are moving to Atlanta. But if the Dems sweep the 2006 (and 2008) elections, maybe we’ll all move closer to D.C. Those of us who aren’t there already. But right now, it’s suburbs or bust!

(Shhhhh. Spread the word.)

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 05/10 at 12:57 PM
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Monday, May 08, 2006

Still Coming Down

So, after the Meetup last weekend, there was nowhere to go but down. No matter how much money I won at poker, how many times I beat the computer (Advanced setting) at Scrabble, or how many Australian-Outback snuff films I watched, this weekend was fated to be a letdown. But, in summary, I nearly doubled my money (coughcoughtendollars) playing poker, used my laptop for its current sole purpose (playing Scrabble), and watched Wolf Creek with some friends.

But things are starting to look up, methinks. This coming weekend, we’re off to the beach* for my office’s annual retreat.

. . .

Actually, that’s about it.

Okay, kidding. At lunch today, I went home to watch the end Big Love, which I DVR’d last night. There was a little time between the end of the previews for next week and the end of the recorded time, so I fast-forwarded until I struck gold. That’s right, a teaser for the new season of Deadwood, which starts next month. Seriously, my heart skipped a beat.

In other this-is-bound-to-get-me-excommunicated-from-the-Internets news, I went there.

Oh, AND also on the “creative writing” front, I submitted my first list to McSweeney’s a few weeks ago and recently received the inevitable rejection. So here’s the list:

Reasons My Friends and Coworkers Have Given for Not Coming to See My Band Play

I fell asleep.
I had to work late.
I had to get up early.
I’ll be out of town. I mean I WAS out of town.
I drank too much. And then fell asleep.
You’re depressing. Sorry.
We had a show someplace else that night. Your wife said we were pretty tight, too.
You’re in a band?
We went to another show. Hope you didn’t put us on the guest list.
I don’t really like your band.

---------------

* I hate the beach.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 05/08 at 03:01 PM
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Tuesday, May 02, 2006

The Meetup. The Bi-Mon-Sci-Fi-Con. The Embiggening. The Dorkfest. Oh My God, I Hate You!

No matter how we refer to this past weekend, all of those present will remember it for the rest of their blogging lives. Or at least until the next time. If they can remember it at all. (In-laws who may be reading should probably skip to the very end where there’s a link to several pictures of your beautiful daughters.)

Several bloggers are big on the cameras and picture-taking, so there is no shortage of photographic documentation of the event. Hell, I even got in on the action with the wife’s Digital Elph. Here are some things I took pictures of:


Yeah, that’s about it for the pictures I did take. How about the pictures I didn’t take:

It was a very, very fun time. Many of the things I didn’t photograph, someone else did. There are tons of them here.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 05/02 at 11:35 AM
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Monday, May 01, 2006

Over

The Meetup officially ended sometime yesterday. I’m sure there are still lingering hangovers (from both alcohol and Chaser abuse). Me? I’m fogged in due to my sleep schedule being ravaged, which I tried to cure with actually getting eight hours of sleep (something I almost never do), only to make things worse.

I’ll be posting more soon, as soon as we determine whether we made it back to Tallahassee with our camera.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 05/01 at 10:41 AM
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Friday, April 28, 2006

It Begins

We made it to Atlanta. I’d been convinced that something was going to come up, that Mia was going to get sick or something, and we wouldn’t be able to come. But we’re here.

We haven’t actually MET any of the other bloggers yet, but we’ve been texting one another like crazy. Probably a bit of foreshadowing that all the girls in the Party Van convened at a bar in the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. As I type, it’s almost 5:30 and we’ve heard reports that they only JUST got the van, so they’ll have an interesting slog through the Friday-night traffic as they inch their way to CW’s house in the northern outer ‘burbs.

Fortune has been smiling on us, though, because as we were coming into the area, we caught up with an ambulance with its sirens blaring. And followed it for about 25 miles into downtown Atlanta. As Michelle said, “We’re making the most of an unfortunate situation. Turning tragedy into something positive.”

Confession time:

-- In honor of my metrosexual attire for the evening, I need to spend the appropriate amount of time on the hair. Because I just got it cut a couple days ago, and I’m not sure how it’s gonna work out.

-- I have a new laptop. I bought it with my bonus check. Before you gasp, it’s an almost-entry-level model that I got a very substantial instant rebate* on. But now I’ll be able to live-blog the Meetup . . . if CW replaced his router.

-- My fly is open.

* When we got our Dell desktop a couple years ago, we had a $100 mail-in rebate that got fucked up somehow and I vowed to never rely on that kind of rebate as a “savings.” I think “instant” has a nicer ring anyway, don’t you?

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/28 at 04:24 PM
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Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Coming To

I’d be exaggerating if I said that it’s taken me this long to sober up from Saturday night. But it did take me a large portion of all day Sunday. I don’t think I had that much to drink. I mean, Christ, I posted about the night before going to bed and there are hardly any glaring typos/misspellings.* But that might say more about the simplicity and ease-of-use of the blogging nest that Patricia has built for me than my perceived alcohol tolerance.

I’m not sure, but this might be my last real post before leaving for Atlanta Friday morning. I’d love to promise that I’ll post every day, multiple times per day, but you and I know that’s not gonna happen. Sometime, I’ll experiment with trying to post once per day, but that would require me to remember more of the funny stuff that I see and hear . . . and/or post about the people I work with. Which, considering my supervisor is probably reading this, would require me to post only the uplifting aspects of my job. So, I won’t really be posting about work. Which is sad, because I work with some interesting characters.

*sigh*

* Some things I left out of my summary**: Prof. Tom was going beer-for-beer with Mr. Glory Hole, and he was the designated driver for the pair of them. And as crazily out-of-it Mr. GH seemed that night, Michelle reports that he was at work very early the next morning (a Sunday).

** “Knockers?” Seriously? And writing about peeing? I must be really adept at using the computer under the influence. Because I was. I’m not sure I can “bring it” like that in Atlanta, either, Styro.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/25 at 08:10 PM
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Saturday, April 22, 2006

“Confluence of Coincidence"*

This is officially my last night of training before Atlanta next weekend. Michelle’s playing out of town tonight this morning, and I opted to stay in town. I was at a loss for what to do, but I settled on trivia, which Michelle seems to have lost the passion for. Originally, I was just gonna meet Mr. ADD there, but then Mr. Glory Hole (and others) came through. We stayed there through some turgid and tortuous NASCAR trivia-related interrogation, and then played a few games for non-retard trivia. After a few games of trivia pitchers of beer, we were off to Waterworks (Tallahassee’s uber-hipster watering hole). Lowlights?

-- This is the rule I follow when I go into the bathroom: Always piss in the lowest urinal. Like, the KIDS’ urinal. Unless there’s someone pissing in the next stall. 

-- A lot of people were present at the sports bar to watch the Miami Heat battle the Chicago Bulls. Including the two African-American ladies who were making fun of the ultra-white boys pretend-high-fiving for their trivia “prowess.”

-- From the moment Prof. Tom pointed out the girl sitting behind me with HUGE knockers, Mr. Glory Hole / RLP was gesturing to her obscenely. With tongue.

-- Michelle requested that I text message her while we were apart today / tonight / this morning. Many of her replies were “Oh, dear,” in relation to my text messages about Mr. Glory Hole.

-- Mr. Glory Hole was constantly singing lines from “My Humps” during his trivia triumph (yes, the MOST DRUNK person in the bar was WINNING the trivia). He also stopped in front of the African-American ladies on the way out to seranade them with the chorus of “Waterfalls.”

-- I resisted the temptation to piss in a beer bottle that someone had left on one of the urinals at the sports bar.

-- Mr. Glory Hole asked our waitress to dance at the uber-hipster watering hole. When she declined, he offered her money.

-- Mr. Glory Hole is my hero.

* This was a quote from Mr. Glory Hole while trying to convince me to meet up with him and his friends after he’d been drinking for six hours. By the time I left him, he’d been drinking for over 12 hours.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/22 at 11:45 PM
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Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Memoirs of an Easter

Thanks to the Stealth Holiday (turns out the ol’ preschool was having its version of a Teachers Planning Day), we had a three-day weekend (Mia and I). As I predicted, Friday was very much like a normal Saturday, but with a Pan-Asian ending. See, first there’d been talk about going out for sushi at a Chinese restaurant, but someone was reportedly being an asshole, so the wife suggested we blow that off. Plan B continued the Pan-Asian theme, as we got multi-ethnic cuisine from a Thai / Vietnamese / Chinese / Japanese restaurant near Michelle’s parents’ house (where we were house/cat-sitting); Michelle got sushi and I got curry (with sushi . . . although the sushi was a comparatively bad sideshow). To expand further on the Pan-Asian theme, we watched Memoirs of a Geisha (Japanese subject matter, Chinese cast, filmed by Americans . . . probably in California). All that adds up to a resounding “Eh” (except for the curry, which was awesome).

Oh, also on Friday night, there was a bit about Mia giving herself a black eye.

Saturday turned out to be a lot like Friday, as Michelle had to work some overtime. So, I took Mia to see Ice Age 2 and then for a walk/duck-feeding around Lake Ella. And then it was Ms. Jazz Hands’ birthday dinner at Food Glorious Food. (Home of the $9 kids pasta! I’ll go on record and say that I verily enjoyed my risotto-stuffed raviolis and scallops. And was full afterward. I know . . . shocker!) After dinner, it was over to Casa de ADD (and Jazz Hands) for UFC action. Three ciders and lots of criticism of the deficiencies of the apparent 10/9 scoring system, and it was off to bed (after a drive across town, of course).

The Holiday-Wherein-We-Celebrate-Fluffy-Bunnies-Who-Leave-Us-Eggs-and-Candy-Rather-Than-Our-Lord-and-Savior-Jesus-Christ-Ascending-to-Heaven was given the appropriate amount of respect . . . in the form of hiding plastic eggs and having Mia and her cousin hunt for them. And then painting more eggs. I found the eggs featuring anarchy symbols, Mr. Hanky, and the Flying Spaghetti Monster to be particularly inspirational.

Gulp, gulp. And photos are fucking up the look of my page, so click somewhere above to view the Flickr-ized (and brief) summation of our Easter.

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/18 at 12:25 PM
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Friday, April 14, 2006

The Black Moss

I never posted about the Pirate Birthday Party from last weekend. Long story short, Ms. Jazz Hands was throwing a party for her 30th birthday at her family’s broke-ass beach shack. There was a pirate-treasure hunt, a bonfire, lots of eats, and the omnipresent, ever-flowing alcohol. Because the house was small and broken and full of lots of people and dogs and (most likely) bugs, Michelle thought we’d sleep in a tent. Which worked out nicely. I think.

Here’s the “set” on Flickr:

Just click around. Snark away.

Today’s Good Friday. Or, as I’m calling it, the STEALTH HOLIDAY. See, I’d planned to take off today for another bout of selfish relaxation. And then I got the memo from Mia’s preschool that they’d be closed today. My sincere wish is that today is like a normal Saturday, tomorrow is like what today SHOULD have been, and Sunday . . . well, we’ll see when we get there. 

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/14 at 08:00 AM
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Monday, April 10, 2006

Beer Before Liquor . . . Eat a Dick

In the course of my long and distinguished drinking “career,” I’ve never been a believer in the whole “Beer before liquor, never sicker; liquor before beer, never fear” rule(s). I much prefer “Never too much of one thing,” or “All things in moderation . . . as opposed to, say, mixed together in a funnel.”

The pirate / birthday adventure was a good time. More on that later (with PICTURES as we found our camera).

No, see, I’m here to put forth a drinking theory. You understand that part of the problem with people getting sick from drinking tequila is that, besides drinking a lake of it, tequila has a very specific taste. Like rum or gin. Vodka (and Everclear) don’t, which is why I can still drink those comfortably even though they’ve rocked me in the past. But what if you mixed your alcohols in such a way that the flavors / auras cancelled one-another out? How do you think 2 ½ Junebugs, two Red Stripes, a Bacardi Limon concoction, and an indeterminate whiskey and Seven would go down? I’ll tell you: Surprisingly well. Seriously, I might have been generous with the ice on those drinks, but I had no discernable hangover the next morning and no lingering flavors.

Atlanta? Bring it.

(EDITOR’S NOTE: This is what’s wrong with my drinking career . . . I can’t even get the Golden Rule right. Thanks, my commenting friends. I had it right, but typed it wrong.)

shaken and poured by Scott-san on 04/10 at 04:11 PM
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Page 7 of 8 pages « First  <  5 6 7 8 >

Listening

There's no "I" in threesome.

Viewing

I can't remember whether I've seen anything new since my birthday. Oh, right, that one.

Reading

I was hoping for a little more detail in the accounts of mauling-by-zombie. But the anecdotes were disturbing, nonetheless..

Drinking

I don't have a solid grasp on which exact cheap beers I had at the ATL watering holes.