randomness personified

speechless

Do me a favor. I don't care if you don't like Johnny Cash. I don't care if you don't like what you envision "country" music to be. Just watch this video.

I don't think you have to be a Cash fan to be moved by the power of this ravaged, world weary man. I'm not ashamed to admit that it made me cry.

workin' for the weekend

It's been a long time since I've actually looked forward to an impending weekend. I've either been completely exhausted from work or the weather has been completely unbearable. This weekend promises to be better.

So I'm going to spend a lot of quality time with, well, myself. I'm going to go see "Lost in La Mancha" tomorrow. Sunday I'm planning on a real long walk around the city and spending too much money on things I don't need to buy. I'll also try to spend some quality time at The Met tomorrow.

If you see me, leave me alone. It's my weekend, dammit...

the grrrl rocks

Hey, sk8er boi, you blew it. You had your chance to own a little piece of Avril. It was only $1.50. How sad. It wasn't complicated.

happy anniversary

Sunday is M.'s birthday. I don't know if I can explain the funk that I feel knowing that the day is approaching. Last year at this time I was still feeling pretty jubilant. I was still new to NYC and thought things were going to sort of work out on that end, too. Don't get me wrong, I'm still damn happy. I just am still a bit baffled and numb with the whole thing.

As a sort of therapeutic exercise I made me a little mix CD tonight. I wouldn't ever send it to her, but I thought it turned out pretty good nonetheless. I chose...

"It's A Motherfucker" - The Eels
"Dark Times" - The Boondogs
"I Guess Things Happen That Way" - Raul Malo
"What Led Me To This Town" - The Jayhawks
"How To Fight Loneliness" - Wilco
"The Other End of The Telescope" - Elvis Costello
"Everyone Says 'Hi'" - David Bowie
"Lately I've Let Things Slide" - Nick Lowe
"Not Dark Yet" - Bob Dylan
"Mad World" - Michael Anderson
"These Are Things That Disappear" - Rhett Miller
"Invisible Ink" - Aimee Mann
"Out of Touch" - Lucinda Williams
"New Favorite" - Allison Krauss & Union Station
"It's Time I Tried" - Allison Moorer
"Pouring Water on A Drowning Man" - Elvis Costello
"Gone" - Ben Folds
"I'm Glad I Never" - Lambchop
"Funny How Time Slips Away" - Willie Nelson

You may call it depressing. I call it cathartic.

look again, indeed

There really was a time when Randy Newman was relevant. Every one of his releases on Reprise ("Randy Newman," "Twelve Songs," "Sail Away" and "Good Old Boys") were outstanding.

At some point, however, he decided that his focus should be quirky little jingles for Disney films. He sort of became a less-edgy Danny Elfman (whose own pre-soundtrack work with Oingo Boingo was also consistently good) and seemed to really lock into a successful formula.

At some point I decided to give up on ol' Randy. Clearly he wasn't going to write the likes of "I Think It's Going To Rain Today" again and I didn't need to hear version #85 of "You've Got a Friend In Me." However, have you heard what he's doing now? The Ford commercial? The "Look at Ford again" thing? That, my friends, is a jingle too far.

the saga - coda: keep on truckin'

I successfully dodged J. for a few months. I had heard from some of her friends at the office that she was seeing someone else. That actually was a relief to me. I figured that someone else could have the headache for a while.

Finally, though, she caught up with me. She called me at work, if I remember correctly, and was so excited to speak to me. She had to fill me in on all sorts of lovely events.

First, she was working at the mall. American Eagle, I think. Second, she had moved out of the her parents' house and was living with a guy. Third, she was engaged to be married to the guy. Fourth, he was a truck driver who was older than I was. Fifth, she was pregnant.

I did the math very quickly in my head. She was still in her first trimester. The timing certainly could have put the child as mine. She was certain that it wasn't. Not sure how she knew that at the time, but I've since seen a picture of the kid and he has jet black hair like her husband. I'm in the clear. At any rate, she wanted to come pick up her stuff. She had a an apartment to furnish, after all.

She and her beau came to my place after work the next day. They showed up in her car which was still not repaired from her accident six months earlier. Her new guy was, well, big and smelly. I'm talking unwashed smelly. He was also sportin' a big wad of chewing tobacco. Purty as a picture.

I had packed her stuff into a couple of boxes. J. tried to lift one and it was too heavy for her. It was filled with plates and whatnot, after all. She asked the trucker to pick it up. He stood in front of it and bent over to get it. He jumped back up very quickly. Why? His pants fell down. Yep. Down to his knees. The conversation that followed is another memorable exchange -

J's Boy - Oops!!
J - I told you to wear a belt!
JB - I couldn't find it.
J - You always say that!
JB - Well, it's always true. I can't find it.

Somehow I managed to stifle a laugh as JB pushed the box out the door with his foot. J. followed carrying the lighter box. They loaded the car and J. hugged me goodbye.

J. and her barely pantsed trucker fiancee drove off in her over-laden ramshackle Toyota. She kept in touch with a couple of people in the office but wrote me off once she had reclaimed her goods. I heard recently that they had moved to Texas. How fitting. Everything's bigger in Texas.

reign free the dogs of war

A few of you have asked me to share my opinion of the State of the Union address that Bush gave last night. To be honest, I was so disgusted by it that I didn't plan to even mention it. Who am I, though, to deny my public?

I'll comment on the domestic portion later. The Iraq portion of the speech blew my mind.

Thirty-seven minutes. That's how long W. prattled on before uttering the word Iraq. Even then he made the bizarre decision to mention Iran first. Raise your hand if you thought he had misspoken. I know I did.

He seems to be getting good marks for his Iraq comments. I really don't get that. There was nothing new other than an allegation that the Russians have heard they tried to buy weapons-grade uranium. Maybe it's the old debater in me, but that's not good enough. I need evidence. I need facts. I need proof. Call me crazy, but an off-handed allegation isn't enough to convince me that we need to kill a bunch of people. I guess that's what we're supposed to see when Powell speaks to the UN next week. I'm very skeptical. I think that they would be screaming from the highest roof-top if we had real evidence.

Was no one else chilled by the "let's just say they're no longer a problem" line? The evil sneer was one of the more disgusting presidental displays that I have ever seen. I was also disgusted that the left side of the aisle stood on that remark. Does no one understand what he's saying? He's saying we killed a bunch of unnamed people. That's a good thing?

He smells blood. He's going after it. This is his war. He's going to fight it with or without the American people. I loved it when he said that even if the UN doesn't back us we'll lead a "broad coalition." Broad coalition? Thanks, Britain. We're now "broad."

This is Bush's war. It will never be mine.

personal space

I'm a little freaked out by what's available on the internet sometimes. I'm helping a cow orker find a new apartment and I stumbled onto the page for my building. This is it. I live in the "more contemporary Atrium."

The freaky bit? The second photo on the bottom (the one of the fountains) is literally taken from my porch. Literally. If you dig around a bit further you can even find the floorplan of my apartment. I'm not going to point that out. Those of you who know my address can feel free to do so. I was surprised, however. I didn't know my place was over 900 sq. feet. It's a great place, just way to expensive. That said, I'm sure I'll be there for several years.

we'll go down dancing

Since the game was such a debacle let's spend some quality time talking about the musical "highlights" of the extravaganza.

Celine - Can some one please tell me why she keeps trotting out singing "God Bless America" while she's also doing annoying Francophile commercials for Quebec? "Come home to Quebec" and "America... my home sweet home?" Hello? Does no one understand this?

Dixie Chicks - These gals seem to have modicum of talent. Too bad it's all Nashville-lite. Is it just me or is the short one shrinking? Why do they have on ear monitors to lip-synch?

Sha-Na-Na Twain - Note to Ms. Twain: We know you're lip-synching. It's okay. We expect it. Just try to remember the words... Eek! Michael Jackson would also like his wardrobe back.

No Doubt - See. I love a lot of No Doubt. Wish they didn't choose to do "Just A Girl" for the the six billionth time. At least Gwen's really singing.

Sting & Gwen - Oh, my. Where to start. Is Gordon going through a midlife crisis, or something? I mean, really. He broke into his Police wardrobe and was even sporting the bleached spike cut. For a split second I thought it was 1982 again. Nice suit pants to go with the t-shirt, Gordo. You're showing your age no matter how hard you try. On what planet does "Message In A Bottle" make sense as a duet? It's about a castaway (which reminds me, that FedEx commercial was great, wasn't it?). If he was stranded on an "island lost at sea-uh" with Gwen I doubt he'd be sending out an S.O.S.

Bon Jovi - Saved from hearing even a note when Cassie called. Thanks, Cass. I'm sure I couldn't have stomached it. It's much nicer to hear your voice.

P.S. - Actual content on the Critic for the next few days! Check it out, please.

oh vienna

Do ya think I'd hurl if I ate an entire tin of Pirouline cookie things before the Super Bowl? I just ate one despite the fact that they're very far removed from my vegan diet (they were part of a gift basket I got from a client) and I can't imagine how you could ingest just one.

wonk no more

As you may know, I'm a political junkie. I have a useless poli sci degree and generally am enthralled by the stuff. For as long as I can remember I've spent my Sunday on the sofa with a newspaper and "Meet The Press." I'm done. No mas. My blood pressure can't take this anymore.

W's Chief of Staff, Andrew Card, was on MTP this morning. He tried to say that there was a "clear' connection between Saddam and Al Queda. When pressed for evidence we kept reiterating that the connection as "clear." He kept saying that that W was in "no hurry" to go to war. Yet when he stated what his boss' priorities for 2003 were one of them was to "win a war." He also indicated that we shouldn't be waiting for a "smoking gun." There isn't one.

It's decided, man. We don't give a fuck what anyone else says or what the UN doesn't dig up. We smell blood. He even refused to take the option of nukes off the table. This is scary shit, folks. If we unilaterally attack Iraq we won't simply ostracize ourselves in the court of world opinion. We face serious ire from every Arab state. Quite frankly, who would blame them?

Then the always lovely Mitch McConnell (R-KY) comes on and says...

"The current situation in North Korea should serve as clear evidence as to why military action in Iraq is not only justified but essential."

WTF? What planet is he on? The "situation in North Korea" that we're perfectly willing to ignore so that we can pick an easier fight?

I had to turn it off. I was this close to throwing things.

rooting interest

I thought I was going to merely watch the Super Bowl tonight without a rooting interest. Simply enjoy what I expect to be a great game, an immense spectacle and some entertaining commercials. Then my friend Dennis (not the one that posts here, the "other" Dennis who I went to college with) reminded me of a story.

When we were teammates on the Central Michigan University Forensics team (public speaking, not "Quincy" re-enactments) we travelled one fall to Mankato, Minnesota for a tournament. We think it was probably 1990. Help me out here, KBO. It was the year before you arrived.

Dennis and I, along with our coach, stopped in at a little Chinese restaurant in Mankato and had what I remember to be a really good meal. It was also really late and there was only one other person in the restaurant, some guy in a Minnesota Vikings jacket. The guy looked familiar but kept to himself. He looked pretty tired.

Finally, he got up to pay. I looked on the wall of the restaurant where there was a lone signed photo of a Vikings player. It was a signed picture of their third-string quarterback, Rich Gannon. I quickly realized that the lone diner was Gannon.

Being Mr. Friendly that I am, I said "Hey, Rich" as he walked by our table on his way out. He was clearly beat (the Vikings' training camp is in Mankato) but still stopped for a couple minutes and chatted with us. I think he was just excited that someone recognized him.

Well, the fresh-faced backup that we met that night is now the grizzled veteran quarterback for the Raiders. Oh, did I mention that he was also the NFL's MVP? His story in itself is a great one. Now that Dennis has reminded what a great guy he was all those years ago I think I now have a rooting interest.

Never thought I'd say this in my lifetime, but I'm pulling for the Oakland Raiders.

shut-in

It's still literally frigid outside. The so-called arctic blast is now more like an arctic extended vacation. So I'm just hanging around the house this weekend with a fire in the fireplace and relaxing. Things I'm loving this weekend include -

* Random blog surfing. Makes me realize that mine isn't all that hot. I'm going to make some changes tomorrow. Pea? You listening? I'll be enlisting you for help :-)

* Making mix CDs. Hey, wasn't I supposed to send a bunch of those out eons ago? Yeah. Well, I suck. Ask nicely and I'll send you one of the great ones I just made. Really. I will! Promise.

* Rediscovering Sam Phillips, female version. Really an underappreciated talent.

* Packing up things to go to the post office. Not limited to packages for some of you and my MP3 player which met an untimely death shortly after the warranty ran out. Sigh...

* Realizing that I have way too many clothes and bagging up a lot of things to donate to charity.

* Reading Nick Hornby's Songbook. I'm going to steal his idea starting next week and put song "essays" up on the Critic blog.

* Going to see "25th Hour." The most fully-realized Spike Lee film (I refuse to say Spike Lee Joint) in a looooong time. Sooner or later Rosario Dawson will be a bonafide star.

* Drinking Jagermeister with a straw. Just seeing if you're still paying attention...

keep up, would ya?

Some people are confused by the J. saga because they haven't kept up with it. To save your lazy souls the trouble of having to scour the archives it's available in its entirety below.

The final chapter is coming tomorrow...

Okay, I've decided to tell the J. story just because, well, the more I think about it the crazier it really was. Seriously. Paige was dead-on when she said I should write a script. It really would be good one. I picture Brittany Murphy as J.

At any rate, this thing will sort of "unfold" over what I'm sure will be many, many entries. There's a lot to it. Maybe I could also tell the M. story at some point. In many ways, it's actually crazier and might be cathartic. I'll decide on that later. With no further ado --

I worked for a large, nameless company in Atlanta. I had moved to Atlanta from Michigan as my parents moved to Athens, Georgia when I was in college. I had a political science degree. I had to live somewhere for free...

Most of my friends in Atlanta were people that I worked with or had worked with in the past. Say what you will about that company (and believe me, it's all been said before), they hire great people. It seems that I also used the company as my own personal dating service. Over the eight years that I worked there I was probably more often than not seeing someone who I worked with. Well, maybe not more often, just a lot. Choose whichever off-color adage about getting your meat where you get your bread, I paid heed to none of them and never learned my lesson.

Well, that's not true. I learned my lesson with J.

I worked in IT when our story takes place. We were a small department consisting of a handful of characters in a couple of rows of cubes. One of the characters was, not to mix words, a player. He was recently divorced and seemed to be attempting to take solace in the arms of every woman in the office. Whether he was actually receiving said comfort is a subject of much debate, but there is certainly no denying that he was making every attempt. Player was several years older than I was but had recently attracted the attentions of a young thing in another department. She was constantly hanging out at his cube flirting and making puppy dog eyes. Player wasn't interested, he insisted. She was much too young for him. Truth be told, she was much to young for me as well. But, for some reason, I was suddenly intrigued...

At some point, some sordid little point, J. and I started seeing each other. I'm not really sure, frankly, how we progressed to that status. I just know that she tired of Player and sort of worked her way down to me. Yeah, I know. That should have been clue one. It wasn't.

J. was a really cute girl. Really cute, really fun, really overly hormoned. I'm going to omit those bits because, well, they're none of your beeswax. Besides, they're not central to the tale. Really. This girl had so much goin' on, none of it good. I really found out the details as we went along.

I honestly didn't really think about her age at first. But she was 18 and was living with her parents. She also was an only child and her parents basically treated her like a peer. That's not to say they treated her like she was older than her age, they just acted like they were 18. They were super-crazed church goers and J. sang in the choir. Yeah, that's right. She was a choir girl.

I had just bought a home in Atlanta when all this transpired and J., it seems, was very excited about the possibility of moving out of her parents' place. You guessed it, she thought she would move in with me. After about two weeks of dating she came to my house with a veritable hope chest of domestic items. Silverware, vases, artwork. It all appeared on my doorstep one Saturday afternoon. Not knowing what to say, I watched as she played decorator. My parents also happened to stop by that afternoon. They loved her. Seems that J. always knew how to make a good impression.

Shortly after I started seeing J., Meredith reminded me of a story. Word on the street was that J. had, um, befriended one of the guys installing cable in the building about a year before I even knew who she was. The rumor was that one day she went to one of the nearby hotels with him during lunch. Yeah. This rumor was supported by the fact he sent her flowers the next day and that the cable vendor took him off the job. Apparently he put the hotel room on his corporate credit card. A brilliant match made in heaven, those two. At any rate, I told Meredith that wasn't true. How did I know? Right! I asked. Surely she wouldn't lie to me. So, with no worries I continued on.

J. also had an interesting side enterprise. She'd purchase clothes for the other women in her department. They'd see an outfit that she was wearing and she would tell them that she'd pick up something similar for them. Thing is, she was able to get things really cheaply. She never revealed her secret and they, apparently, never questioned her. Why look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

I, too, wasn't questioning anything at this point. That would soon change. Unfortunately, not soon enough...

Pretty soon I felt like I was living that Seinfeld episode where George leaves the Russian hat at that woman's apartment. I was surrounded by J.'s "stuff." Some of it was very nice, mind you. I still have a clock she left on my mantle. But it was also weird. Her parents kept her very busy with church on the weekends so the only times I really got to go do things with her was after work. She would come over and make herself at home. The neighbors (the decent ones in my scary neighborhood - another story for a later date) all would come over and chat with her. In short, everyone loved J. Well, except Meredith. Meredith was always suspicious. Good senses, that Meredith.

I'll fast forward through a couple of relatively stable, boring months. We continued on. The only bizarreness was her penchant for Christian rock (I mean, this girl was the ultimate hypocrite in that regard) and her connection to her church "friend" Bobby and her 12 year-old cousin to whom she was basically a surrogate mother and best friend.

J. worked in the estimating department. Her job was to enter paperwork into a mainframe. Pure data entry, but important in that subcontractors got paid based upon what she entered into the system. She also seemed to be very good at her job. She was always finishing before the other people in her department and was generous enough to take their work when she was caught up. This was probably suspicious since she seemed to spend most of her time at my desk despite, I hasten to add, the fact that I tried to keep her away so I wouldn't get in trouble.

At any rate, a problem in her department soon popped up. It seemed that some subcontractors weren't getting some of their checks. The head of that department, a guy I really liked but a guy who was also super uptight, started investigating. Next thing I knew, J. was fired. I walked her wailing little self out to her car not knowing what the hell had happened. Needless to say, I was upset. Finally, I went to her boss to ask him what happened (or maybe he came to me, I can't remember) and he told me that he'd found the paperwork that hadn't been entered. Several days worth of work, in fact. In J's wastebasket. Seems that if she didn't have time to enter her work she just threw it out. Good plan, there, sweetie...

My relationship with J. actually improved on some level after she was fired. I didn't have to try to police her presence at my desk at the office and she usually was waiting for me when I got home. Yeah, at some point I gave her a key.

J. didn't really try to get a job right after the firing. She hung out at church more, hung out with her cousin more and hung out at my place more. It was pretty good, now that I look back on it. She'd meet me for lunch from time-to-time and, because she spent more time at church during the week, she even was free some weekends.

Interestingly enough, I read a Jonathan Franzen essay on memory on the train today. In reading it, I realized that my memory on the J. saga is somewhat fuzzy. Things may be a bit out of sequence. I think I'm remembering this right: at some point J. got in an ugly car accident. It was her fault and the car was damaged just slightly less than mine was a couple of months ago. She was able to drive it but her parents were making her pay for their deductable. Of course she had no money. Her cousin was with her in the car, too, and her parents (the cousin's who were also quite wacko) forbid her from riding with J. These two turns really depressed her and she started talking about finding a new job.

She was going to use one afternoon to drop off applications at the mall and then was going to come by my house and we were going out for dinner. I got home and she wasn't there waiting for me. I thought this was a good sign. I thought that maybe she actually was talking to someone about a job. Then, however, it started to get late. By around 8:00 I was pretty hungry. Then the phone rang...

J: Hi (sobbing hysterically)
MRW: Hi. Are you okay?
J: No
MRW: Where are you? Did your car break down?
J: No (sobbing harder)
MRW: Where are you?
J: (complete hyterical sobbing)

At this point I look down at the Caller I.D. I did a double take. No, make that a triple take. I'll always be able to look at my Caller I.D. Box and see in my mind's eye what it said. It read...

Clayton County Jail

My silence must have told her that I knew where she was because our conversation continued on like this...

J: They say that I stole stuff from Wal-Mart (barely coherent through the hysterics)
MRW: Did you?
J: No! Of course not!
MRW: What happened?
J: I can't tell you now.
MRW: You need to call an attorney.
J: They called my Dad. He's on his way.
MRW: He's not going to do you any good. You need an attorney.
J: I don't have any choice. I'm so fucked.
MRW: What happened?
J: I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I can.

With that she hung up. I didn't hear from her for two days. When I did, she told me her side of the story.

J. finally called me a back a couple of days after her little incident.

She was suprisingly eager to talk about what had transpired at Wal-Mart. Her version of the events went a little something like this...

According to her, some guy in the parking lot came up behind her and said that he had a list of things for her to steal. He handed her the list and told her not to turn around. When she came back out, he explained, he'd get the stuff from her. If she didn't comply, of course, he'd be waiting for her by her car and he'd kill her. Since he came up from behind she never saw his face.

Look, you have to give the gal a couple of points for creativity. The story falls apart pretty quickly, though. I mean, the cops asked her why she didn't just find a security guard. Her answer? What was she going to tell them? She didn't see his face, remember. Where the scenario really becomes laughable is when you look at what she was stealing:

*makeup
*hair squunchies
*a mini skirt
*candles
*lotion
*a Matchbox 20 CD

That certainly would seem to be a pretty odd list unless you were, well, an eighteen year-old girl. I never was very clear on how she was trying to hide things. All she said was that they "had her on camera."

I should add that the day after she was caught was her 19th birthday. When I moved to Connecticut I found a box of stuff that I had bought her for her birthday. Anybody want a VHS copy of Grease?

When J. was fired I really wanted to believe her that she was innocent of the misdeed. Really. I knew, though, that she probably wasn't. This time she really wanted me to believe. I, of course, couldn't believe it for even an instant. It made me think about her little side venture buying clothes for her co-workers. She always seemed to get them at Sears. Sears doesn't really seem like a place for an eighteen year-old to buy clothes, does it? I have to imagine that they just had the most lax security. I doubt that even crossed the mind of her customers when this news broke. Hell, for all I know they could have been in on it from the beginning.

I pretty much stopped seeing J. after this incident. Well, not entirely. I'm not proud to say that some parts of our relationship seemed to withstand her sticky fingers. She wasn't able to visit me anymore. She really wanted to come see me but her parents had now taken away her car because she hadn't paid them for her deductible from the accident. Yeah. She now had no way to find a job and no transportation until she found one. Really bright, these people. Their solution was to have J. work for her mother who was a sales agent in a crappy neighborhood. So her mom would shuttle her to the sales office while her she basically drove all over town. It wasn't a nice neighborhood and unsavory characters would always drop in when they saw an attractive girl working there. Not a good situation. Of course, I was often one of the unsavory characters...

One day J. stayed home while her mother went to work because she "wasn't feeling well." I, too, called in sick. In all of this time I had never been to J.'s house. I never understood why. Soon I did and the end truly began in earnest.

So I called in sick to work and headed over to J.'s. I had planned to spend the day just hanging out with her. When I approached her parents' house everything looked relatively normal. They lived in a nice enough subdivision in surburban Atlanta.

J., it seemed, was constantly cleaning the house. It was how she earned her keep, I guess. Well, she should have been thrown out. The house was disgusting. Now, I'm not the best housekeeper (that's why I hire somebody to do it) I couldn't believe this place. It smelled like month old garbage and I literally couldn't get through a single room in the house because there were boxes upon boxes of crap just pilled up everywhere. J. was sitting in on the couch surrounded by dirty dishes and empty soda bottles. It really was surreal.

What really freaked me out, in retrospect, was that to meet J. you would never have guess that she lived in that type of environment. It completely shocked me.

Next to J. in the squallor sat a stack of unopened Christian rock CDs. She really loved Christian rock. I never quite understood it on many levels. First of all, everything she played for me sounded exactly the same - overly earnest boy bands who scattered a few "He's" and "amens." Not exactly the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Second of all, she went to church on a regular basis but wasn't what anyone would call a good little Christian girl. I think it had something to do with approval from her parents.

At any rate, I was baffled by the CDs appearance because she literally had no money. Literally. Where she would have gotten what had to be 10-12 new CDs was beyond me. What followed was yet another conversation that I'll never forget --

MRW - Where did you get all of those?
J - Oh. Uh. Someone got them for me.
MRW - Who? Bobby? (her church "friend")
J - Uh. A bunch of people. You know Bobby couldn't afford them.
MRW - A bunch of people?
J - Yeah.
MRW - Who?
J - A bunch of people. I don't know who they were.
MRW- A bunch of people who you don't know bought you CDs?
J - No. My friends. The Christian bookstore has a program where you can leave a list of the CDs that you want and your friends can buy them. All I had to do was go pick them up.

That's correct, my friends. She was stealing CDs from the Christian bookstore. Clearly nothing was sacred with this girl.

I made up some lame story about not feeling well and went home. I didn't call her for quite a while and pretty much lost track of her for a few months. She'd page me from time-to-time but I never returned her calls.

She made one more appearance in my life. It was quite the exit. Sometimes life lets you know that chose correctly.

hypothermia is your friend

It's insanely cold here. But we're saved thanks to Rosencrans' and Andrew's great NYC-specific tips for keeping warm.

home sweet home

The lovely Patricia pointed me to this quiz. Believe it or not, it said that I should live in Stamford/Norwalk, CT. I didn't cheat at all. Isn't that weird? Anyhow, people often ask me what Stamford is like. That link a better description than what I normally give.

So take it, would ya? See where you should be hangin'. You can make up an address and whatnot at the end. Annoying, I know...

all together now

More brilliance from the our Evil Queen...

to the tune of "if you're happy and you know it"
************************************
if you cannot find osama, bomb iraq.
if the markets are a drama, bomb iraq.
if the terrorists are frisky,
pakistan is looking shifty,
north korea is too risky,
bomb iraq.

if we have no allies with us, bomb iraq.
if we think someone has dissed us, bomb iraq.
so to hell with the inspections,
let's look tough for the elections,
close your mind and take directions,
bomb iraq.

it's "pre-emptive non-aggression", bomb iraq.
let's prevent this mass destruction, bomb iraq.
they've got weapons we can't see,
and that's good enough for me
'cos it's all the proof i need
bomb iraq.

if you never were elected, bomb iraq.
if your mood is quite dejected, bomb iraq.
if you think saddam's gone mad,
with the weapons that he had,
(and he tried to kill your dad),
bomb iraq.

if your corporate fraud is growin', bomb iraq.
if your ties to it are showin', bomb iraq.
if your politics are sleazy,
and hiding that ain't easy,
and your manhood's getting queasy,
bomb iraq.

fall in line and follow orders, bomb iraq.
for our might knows not our borders, bomb iraq.
disagree? we'll call it treason,
let's make war not love this season,
even if we have no reason,
bomb iraq.

so wrong

But so funny...

Thanks to Kirsten for the tip.

the saga chapter five - excess baggage

So I called in sick to work and headed over to J.'s. I had planned to spend the day just hanging out with her. When I approached her parents' house everything looked relatively normal. They lived in a nice enough subdivision in surburban Atlanta.

J., it seemed, was constantly cleaning the house. It was how she earned her keep, I guess. Well, she should have been thrown out. The house was disgusting. Now, I'm not the best housekeeper (that's why I hire somebody to do it) I couldn't believe this place. It smelled like month old garbage and I literally couldn't get through a single room in the house because there were boxes upon boxes of crap just pilled up everywhere. J. was sitting in on the couch surrounded by dirty dishes and empty soda bottles. It really was surreal.

What really freaked me out, in retrospect, was that to meet J. you would never have guess that she lived in that type of environment. It completely shocked me.

Next to J. in the squallor sat a stack of unopened Christian rock CDs. She really loved Christian rock. I never quite understood it on many levels. First of all, everything she played for me sounded exactly the same - overly earnest boy bands who scattered a few "He's" and "amens." Not exactly the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Second of all, she went to church on a regular basis but wasn't what anyone would call a good little Christian girl. I think it had something to do with approval from her parents.

At any rate, I was baffled by the CDs appearance because she literally had no money. Literally. Where she would have gotten what had to be 10-12 new CDs was beyond me. What followed was yet another conversation that I'll never forget --

MRW - Where did you get all of those?
J - Oh. Uh. Someone got them for me.
MRW - Who? Bobby? (her church "friend")
J - Uh. A bunch of people. You know Bobby couldn't afford them.
MRW - A bunch of people?
J - Yeah.
MRW - Who?
J - A bunch of people. I don't know who they were.
MRW- A bunch of people who you don't know bought you CDs?
J - No. My friends. The Christian bookstore has a program where you can leave a list of the CDs that you want and your friends can buy them. All I had to do was go pick them up.

That's correct, my friends. She was stealing CDs from the Christian bookstore. Clearly nothing was sacred with this girl.

I made up some lame story about not feeling well and went home. I didn't call her for quite a while and pretty much lost track of her for a few months. She'd page me from time-to-time but I never returned her calls.

She made one more appearance in my life. It was quite the exit. Sometimes life lets you know that chose correctly.

don't hate the butt

I'm really disturbed by the searches that I've been getting as of late. Seems that I'm now the top Google search for "Hate Georgia." I stilll have a lot of searches for "i hate ohio state," "nude jennifer anniston," "index of butt," "kasey chambers nude," and "butt jpg." So is that what the internet is about these days? Butts and hate?

pure brilliance

This is ingenious...

gardening at night

Quiet around here again tomorrow as I'm off to New Jersey to see a client.

As I told Dennis this evening, I normally load up with Springsteen CDs to listen to in the car when I go to the Garden State. Why, I don't know. It's only about a hour-long drive. It's just what I "do." Sorta like listening to R.E.M. when I'm visiting my parents in Athens, GA.

However, this time I'm changing my tune. Literally. I'm taking John Gorka CDs. He's the only one who has ever written anything witty about New Jersey.

For the record, I'm going to Exit 12...

the saga - chapter four: even i have my limits

J. finally called me a back a couple of days after her little incident.

She was suprisingly eager to talk about what had transpired at Wal-Mart. Her version of the events went a little something like this...

According to her, some guy in the parking lot came up behind her and said that he had a list of things for her to steal. He handed her the list and told her not to turn around. When she came back out, he explained, he'd get the stuff from her. If she didn't comply, of course, he'd be waiting for her by her car and he'd kill her. Since he came up from behind she never saw his face.

Look, you have to give the gal a couple of points for creativity. The story falls apart pretty quickly, though. I mean, the cops asked her why she didn't just find a security guard. Her answer? What was she going to tell them? She didn't see his face, remember. Where the scenario really becomes laughable is when you look at what she was stealing:

*makeup
*hair squunchies
*a mini skirt
*candles
*lotion
*a Matchbox 20 CD

That certainly would seem to be a pretty odd list unless you were, well, an eighteen year-old girl. I never was very clear on how she was trying to hide things. All she said was that they "had her on camera."

I should add that the day after she was caught was her 19th birthday. When I moved to Connecticut I found a box of stuff that I had bought her for her birthday. Anybody want a VHS copy of Grease?

When J. was fired I really wanted to believe her that she was innocent of the misdeed. Really. I knew, though, that she probably wasn't. This time she really wanted me to believe. I, of course, couldn't believe it for even an instant. It made me think about her little side venture buying clothes for her co-workers. She always seemed to get them at Sears. Sears doesn't really seem like a place for an eighteen year-old to buy clothes, does it? I have to imagine that they just had the most lax security. I doubt that even crossed the mind of her customers when this news broke. Hell, for all I know they could have been in on it from the beginning.

I pretty much stopped seeing J. after this incident. Well, not entirely. I'm not proud to say that some parts of our relationship seemed to withstand her sticky fingers. She wasn't able to visit me anymore. She really wanted to come see me but her parents had now taken away her car because she hadn't paid them for her deductible from the accident. Yeah. She now had no way to find a job and no transportation until she found one. Really bright, these people. Their solution was to have J. work for her mother who was a sales agent in a crappy neighborhood. So her mom would shuttle her to the sales office while her she basically drove all over town. It wasn't a nice neighborhood and unsavory characters would always drop in when they saw an attractive girl working there. Not a good situation. Of course, I was often one of the unsavory characters...

One day J. stayed home while her mother went to work because she "wasn't feeling well." I, too, called in sick. In all of this time I had never been to J.'s house. I never understood why. Soon I did and the end truly began in earnest.

new kid on the block

Hey, will you kids go visit Kirsten at her little site? She's one of the funniest peeps I know even if she does pick the worst places to live. Since I've known KBO she's lived in Mt. Pleasant, Michigan; Kirksville, Missouri and now Columbus, Georgia. Yuck!

start me up

So. Who has HBO? If you do, watch for me tonight. I'm going to see the Stones and I just might rush the stage. Hopefully there won't be a situation like this, though.

Review and the next chapter of The Saga tomorrow!

southern comfort

I finally finished my death march of an install today in the Village. I didn't get out today until after 8:00. On a Friday...

Still, I was thinking on the train home about how much happier I am here than I ever was in Atlanta. I also thought of several things that Atlanta sorely lacks.

1. Mass transit. MARTA is a joke. This is its map. It seriously may be worse than Detroit's Peoplemover.

2. Newsstands. Seriously, where do you buy a paper in Atlanta? The gas station? Barnes & Noble? I know I had to drive ten minutes to get a Sunday Times. Here, they're on every block. I can think of six that I can walk to within two blocks of my place.

3. Pedestrians. MARTA and walking both saw their heyday during the 1996 Olympics. I think people stopped walking even before the APD scapegoated Richard Jewell. I walked from 4th Street to Grand Central every night this week. Yeah, that was a bit extreme but it really is great exercise.

4. Bakeries. Driving to Alon's doesn't count. There are no neighborhood bakeries. Even my little hometown in Michigan had a bakery. Here I can walk to three from my place and we can afford to splurge a bit.

Why? Because we walk...

the truth escapes

Thanks to our beloved Evil Queen, I stumbled onto this little beauty of a t-shirt.

How great is that? I mean, really. Other than the fact that I don't like the term handicapped (I prefer disabled cuz, to me, handicapped is just slightly nicer than crippled), it's perfect. Should I get one?

too cool for school

You know what I hate? I hate people who talk really loudly on a quiet train full of commuters trying to read. You know what I hate even more? When said loud talker is a lying asshole trying to chat-up a really gullible girl.

Tonight on the way home I was minding my own business on an absurdly crowded train. I was trying to read my Franzen book and the train was quiet as it always is on weekdays. That ended when some beefy crew cut guy of questionable intelligence started chatting-up this girl. It didn't take long before she asked him what he did.

Loud Asshole: I'm a musician.
Gullible Girl: Oh, what do you play?
LA: Horns mostly.
GG: What kind of horn?
LA: Oh, you know, all of them. Trombone, French.
GG: What kind of music?
LA: Oh, pretty much all kinds. Rock, jazz, classical.
GG: Oh? Ever play with any rock bands I might know?
LA: Nah. That's not my genre.
GG: Oh (disappointedly)
LA: Well, I did play with the Red Hot Chilli Peppers!
GG: Really? They have horns? On their record?
LA: I don't know about their records. I played with them on tour for like a year.
GG: On tour? What songs?
LA: You know, I don't even know the song titles. I just read the sheet music.

And on, and on, and on, and on. Apparently this dude also is considering a career in the FBI and knows somebody who was in the military and "killed, like, two people." He was so cool.

the saga - chapter three: sticky situations

My relationship with J. actually improved on some level after she was fired. I didn't have to try to police her presence at my desk at the office and she usually was waiting for me when I got home. Yeah, at some point I gave her a key.

J. didn't really try to get a job right after the firing. She hung out at church more, hung out with her cousin more and hung out at my place more. It was pretty good, now that I look back on it. She'd meet me for lunch from time-to-time and, because she spent more time at church during the week, she even was free some weekends.

Interestingly enough, I read a Jonathan Franzen essay on memory on the train today. In reading it, I realized that my memory on the J. saga is somewhat fuzzy. Things may be a bit out of sequence. I think I'm remembering this right: at some point J. got in an ugly car accident. It was her fault and the car was damaged just slightly less than mine was a couple of months ago. She was able to drive it but her parents were making her pay for their deductable. Of course she had no money. Her cousin was with her in the car, too, and her parents (the cousin's who were also quite wacko) forbid her from riding with J. These two turns really depressed her and she started talking about finding a new job.

She was going to use one afternoon to drop off applications at the mall and then was going to come by my house and we were going out for dinner. I got home and she wasn't there waiting for me. I thought this was a good sign. I thought that maybe she actually was talking to someone about a job. Then, however, it started to get late. By around 8:00 I was pretty hungry. Then the phone rang...

J: Hi (sobbing hysterically)
MRW: Hi. Are you okay?
J: No
MRW: Where are you? Did your car break down?
J: No (sobbing harder)
MRW: Where are you?
J: (complete hyterical sobbing)

At this point I look down at the Caller I.D. I did a double take. No, make that a triple take. I'll always be able to look at my Caller I.D. Box and see in my mind's eye what it said. It read...

Clayton County Jail

My silence must have told her that I knew where she was because our conversation continued on like this...

J: They say that I stole stuff from Wal-Mart (barely coherent through the hysterics)
MRW: Did you?
J: No! Of course not!
MRW: What happened?
J: I can't tell you now.
MRW: You need to call an attorney.
J: They called my Dad. He's on his way.
MRW: He's not going to do you any good. You need an attorney.
J: I don't have any choice. I'm so fucked.
MRW: What happened?
J: I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I can.

With that she hung up. I didn't hear from her for two days. When I did, she told me her side of the story.

a simple prayer

Dearest deity-of-your-choice:

Please do not let Ashton Kutcher and Brittany Murphy breed. Please?

She seriously does remind me of J., though...

favorite son

Don't ever say nothing happens here in Stamford. This is taking place down the street from my place. I'll be leaving the house early to get to the city. Otherwise, I wonder if the area would be teeming with press types?

an assignment

Will you please go see "Adaptation" this week? Please?

I saw it for the second time on Saturday and it still is, to quote my pal Bruce, a mind-fuck. I think I'm finally putting it together and, let me tell you, if it's not the most brilliant screenplay ever written then I don't know what is. It's so much more than it seems...

I won't spoil it for you. I do think you'd enjoy it more if you knew these facts before you see it...

* Susan Orlean is a real reporter for the New Yorker who really did write a book called The Orchid Thief.

* The book was really written about John Laroche and he is pretty much like Chris Cooper's character.

* Charlie Kaufman is really the film's screenwriter.

The rest I'll leave you to make sense of. I think I have and it's amazing. It's one of those films that I'll have to own and analyze over and over. It make Spike Jonze's last film, "Being John Malcovich," look like "The Muppet Movie."

outside another yellow moon

You kids need to entertain yourselves this week, I'm afraid. I'll be downtown at a client pretty much all week. Maybe I'll have time some evening but I'm already makin' plans. Movie tomorrow, gallery opening on Wednesday, etc. Be good! Don't break anything.

i'm so honored!!

Hee hee! Thanks to pea for the link...

the saga - chapter two: throwing it all away

Pretty soon I felt like I was living that Seinfeld episode where George leaves the Russian hat at that woman's apartment. I was surrounded by J.'s "stuff." Some of it was very nice, mind you. I still have a clock she left on my mantle. But it was also weird. Her parents kept her very busy with church on the weekends so the only times I really got to go do things with her was after work. She would come over and make herself at home. The neighbors (the decent ones in my scary neighborhood - another story for a later date) all would come over and chat with her. In short, everyone loved J. Well, except Meredith. Meredith was always suspicious. Good senses, that Meredith.

I'll fast forward through a couple of relatively stable, boring months. We continued on. The only bizarreness was her penchant for Christian rock (I mean, this girl was the ultimate hypocrite in that regard) and her connection to her church "friend" Bobby and her 12 year-old cousin to whom she was basically a surrogate mother and best friend.

J. worked in the estimating department. Her job was to enter paperwork into a mainframe. Pure data entry, but important in that subcontractors got paid based upon what she entered into the system. She also seemed to be very good at her job. She was always finishing before the other people in her department and was generous enough to take their work when she was caught up. This was probably suspicious since she seemed to spend most of her time at my desk despite, I hasten to add, the fact that I tried to keep her away so I wouldn't get in trouble.

At any rate, a problem in her department soon popped up. It seemed that some subcontractors weren't getting some of their checks. The head of that department, a guy I really liked but a guy who was also super uptight, started investigating. Next thing I knew, J. was fired. I walked her wailing little self out to her car not knowing what the hell had happened. Needless to say, I was upset. Finally, I went to her boss to ask him what happened (or maybe he came to me, I can't remember) and he told me that he'd found the paperwork that hadn't been entered. Several days worth of work, in fact. In J's wastebasket. Seems that if she didn't have time to enter her work she just threw it out. Good plan, there, sweetie...

believe it or not i'm walking on air

Wasn't there a Seinfeld episode where George wanted to have his own theme song? Not the one where he used "Greatest American Hero" on his answering machine or the one where he wanted people to say "Co-stan-za" like "By Mennan." Another one. I'm drawing a blank.

At any rate, I've always wanted my own theme song. I thought I was close a couple of times but, in the end, it just didn't work. Theme songs are tough. They have to not only convey a little message but they also have to be peppy and chock-full of hooks. You want people to sing your theme song even when they're not with you. You don't want, for instance, something that makes people feel down when they think of it. Peppy is key. Yeah, I've put too much thought into this. What of it?

At any rate, I think I've finally found it! The long-lost mrw theme song. It's from Rhett Miller's (of the Old '97s) solo album. It's called "This Is What I Do." It's just about perfect. Here. Take a listen (remember, right click-save as).

Pretty good, huh? I'd like to encourage you to cue that up whenever you read randomness. Alternatively, I'd also be happy if you listened to this goofy-ass Weezer MIDI while you read my prattle.

eye of the beholder

Is it just me, or is potato bonsai just, well, icky?

sleep of the just

I've never been a very good sleeper. However, I'm even worse at being sleep deprived. I can get by about once a week on five hours. Other than that, I need a solid seven or eight unless I want to be really cranky, moody and generally worthless.

Over the last couple of months I've been imbibing in the Tylenol PM a bit too much. Well, pretty much every night. Now don't get all kooky on me. I don't take the normal dose. In fact, I usually take about half of a tablet. It's just enough for me to put myself to sleep. Once I'm asleep I'm fine. It's just the initial slumber that alludes me. Too much on my mind, it seems. I've tried it all and this really seems to work. Just a half a tab of Tylenol PM at night and nice cuppa joe in the morning.

Better living through chemistry...

the saga - chapter one: digging in

At some point, some sordid little point, J. and I started seeing each other. I'm not really sure, frankly, how we progressed to that status. I just know that she tired of Player and sort of worked her way down to me. Yeah, I know. That should have been clue one. It wasn't.

J. was a really cute girl. Really cute, really fun, really overly hormoned. I'm going to omit those bits because, well, they're none of your beeswax. Besides, they're not central to the tale. Really. This girl had so much goin' on, none of it good. I really found out the details as we went along.

I honestly didn't really think about her age at first. But she was 18 and was living with her parents. She also was an only child and her parents basically treated her like a peer. That's not to say they treated her like she was older than her age, they just acted like they were 18. They were super-crazed church goers and J. sang in the choir. Yeah, that's right. She was a choir girl.

I had just bought a home in Atlanta when all this transpired and J., it seems, was very excited about the possibility of moving out of her parents' place. You guessed it, she thought she would move in with me. After about two weeks of dating she came to my house with a veritable hope chest of domestic items. Silverware, vases, artwork. It all appeared on my doorstep one Saturday afternoon. Not knowing what to say, I watched as she played decorator. My parents also happened to stop by that afternoon. They loved her. Seems that J. always knew how to make a good impression.

Shortly after I started seeing J., Meredith reminded me of a story. Word on the street was that J. had, um, befriended one of the guys installing cable in the building about a year before I even knew who she was. The rumor was that one day she went to one of the nearby hotels with him during lunch. Yeah. This rumor was supported by the fact he sent her flowers the next day and that the cable vendor took him off the job. Apparently he put the hotel room on his corporate credit card. A brilliant match made in heaven, those two. At any rate, I told Meredith that wasn't true. How did I know? Right! I asked. Surely she wouldn't lie to me. So, with no worries I continued on.

J. also had an interesting side enterprise. She'd purchase clothes for the other women in her department. They'd see an outfit that she was wearing and she would tell them that she'd pick up something similar for them. Thing is, she was able to get things really cheaply. She never revealed her secret and they, apparently, never questioned her. Why look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

I, too, wasn't questioning anything at this point. That would soon change. Unfortunately, not soon enough...

the saga - preamble

Okay, I've decided to tell the J. story just because, well, the more I think about it the crazier it really was. Seriously. Paige was dead-on when she said I should write a script. It really would be good one. I picture Brittany Murphy as J.

At any rate, this thing will sort of "unfold" over what I'm sure will be many, many entries. There's a lot to it. Maybe I could also tell the M. story at some point. In many ways, it's actually crazier and might be cathartic. I'll decide on that later. With no further ado --

I worked for a large, nameless company in Atlanta. I had moved to Atlanta from Michigan as my parents moved to Athens, Georgia when I was in college. I had a political science degree. I had to live somewhere for free...

Most of my friends in Atlanta were people that I worked with or had worked with in the past. Say what you will about that company (and believe me, it's all been said before), they hire great people. It seems that I also used the company as my own personal dating service. Over the eight years that I worked there I was probably more often than not seeing someone who I worked with. Well, maybe not more often, just a lot. Choose whichever off-color adage about getting your meat where you get your bread, I paid heed to none of them and never learned my lesson.

Well, that's not true. I learned my lesson with J.

I worked in IT when our story takes place. We were a small department consisting of a handful of characters in a couple of rows of cubes. One of the characters was, not to mix words, a player. He was recently divorced and seemed to be attempting to take solace in the arms of every woman in the office. Whether he was actually receiving said comfort is a subject of much debate, but there is certainly no denying that he was making every attempt. Player was several years older than I was but had recently attracted the attentions of a young thing in another department. She was constantly hanging out at his cube flirting and making puppy dog eyes. Player wasn't interested, he insisted. She was much too young for him. Truth be told, she was much to young for me as well. But, for some reason, I was suddenly intrigued...

any librarians in the house?

Okay. I file my CDs by artist and, when it makes sense, I group solo albums with the groups that the artist belongs to. For example, Alex Chilton's and Chris Bell's solo works get filed with Big Star. At some point, however, I have to decide if an artist deserves his own section. I'd never, for instance, put Lennon's solo works in the Beatles section.

So here are today's two dilemmas...

Jay Farrar has a solo record and an EP. I think that Son Volt is about dead. Do I file Son Volt under Farrar now? Do they each get their own sections?

Also, Gram Parsons. I think of the Flying Burrito Brothers as Gram's work so I think they get filed together. However, what do I do then with "Sweetheart of the Rodeo?" I think of it as Gram, too, but he's not even on most of the versions that made the album.

These, my friends, are the things that keep me up at night.

seriously

I need a good pick-me-up. Is there anything on the planet that will make you laugh quicker than Mr. Winkle? If there is, I need to know about it. Stat.

whatchu lookin' at?

Search referrals are always good for a laugh, aren't they? Here's a handful of the things people have stumbled in my little corner of the internet looking for over the last couple of days:

I hate Ohio State Yeah, yeah. I've gotten thant one 42 times in the last week. Don't hate, it's not becoming.

Jennifer Anniston nude Good Girl I'm getting a lot of these, too, and I'm not sure why. At any rate, there wasn't one. At least in the version I saw.

Index of butt jpg Not here, thanks for coming.

tom wopat my second husband com Catchy website name, don't you think?

selma blair calvin klein dress pics I get a lot of these, too. I once saw Selma Blair on the Metro North and I own a few CK things. Close enough? No dresses, though.

alien party I get hits on a lot of alien and UFO searches. I usually blame my pal Bruce. However, I think these are due to some of those crazy movies I post.

and finally...

blog sexy surrealism You, my friend, have come to the right place!

that's entertainment

I realize that this post should probably go on the critic blog but, judging by my stats, you fools never click over there. So, here ya go...

As I've mentioned in the past, I don't watch a whole lot of television. When I do, it's usually to watch shows that I try to catch on a regular basis. This season that's shrunk down considerably. I try to catch "West Wing," "Law & Order" and "Boston Public." The television is sometimes on in the background and I'll sometimes catch something else I want to see but, honestly, that's about it. I watch a lot more films.

At any rate, I watched "Boston Public" on Fox last night. It's a guilty pleasure, I think it's a pretty well acted show. I got up to do some laundry after it was done and left the television on. Raise your hand if you know what was on next. Yup. "Joe Millionaire." I watched about two minutes of it and, let me tell ya, it was embarassing. The whole conceit of "The Bachelor" angle is bad enough. When you add that these women are making fools of themselves by going ga-ga over the guy's money AND they're being lied to it's just, i dunno, evil. Really. I don't think that word is inaccurate.

Fox is evil. Tell me I'm wrong.

group project

Okay. I'm going to put a profile up on Nerve.com. However, it has to be good. And by good I mean good. That's where you come in. Here are the categories. Give me some help here. Remember, it's basically a personal ad. The whole truth is "good" but not good. I'm not kidding, by the way. I'm doin' it!!! Oh, and I'll be truthful. Don't worry.

Last great book I read:

Who I'm looking for:

Okay. Now hop to it! I'm not gettin' any younger (or prettier...)!!

is there room on that bandwagon?

J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets!

Uh, nevermind. Looks like I can keep pulling for the Falcons. Who'da thunk it!!

bold new world

About every four or five months I like to "do the rounds" in Chelsea to see what the galleries are showing. I hadn't done that since sometime in October so I decided today would be an opportune time.

The last few times it seemed like most spaces were fairly dark and somber. I attributed it to art in a post 9/11 world. However, today a lot of things were very, very bright. Vivid, gaudy colors seem to be "in" this winter. I didn't like much of it. Many things, dare I say, were actually quite garish.

This was probably the brightest installation in any of the places that I went to but, oddly enough, I really like it.

let's not get carried away

My entry a couple of months about the Ohio State - Michigan game was brought a lot of traffic to randomness. Last I checked, I was the first Google hit for "How I Hate Ohio State."

Well, last night OSU upset Miami to win the National Championship. I honestly couldn't have cared less about who won the game. It was a great game, though, finally ending in double overtime. However, this comment really upset me.

Dude. It's a game. Let it go.

thanking the academy

In filling out my ballot for the 2003 Bloggies this evening (No I didn't vote for myself. Sheesh...), I began to wonder if there really is a group of big blogs that everybody knows about. You know, sort of like the New York Times and Wall Street Journal of blogs. If so, the little ones that I frequent don't have a shot at winning, I guess. Oh, well. I still like my peeps and hope that voting for them gets them a little well-deserved credit.

Please take a minute to go vote for the blogs you like, too. A lot of people work a lot harder than I do at their little ventures and deserve some sort of credit.

You know, there is a "Best New Blog" category. Okay. I'll shut-up now. :-)

this wasn't in the brochure

Last winter, my first in Connecticut, we literally had one day here where it snowed here and accumulated. It was only about two inches. That, I was lead to believe, was the norm.

Today it's snowing. Snowing hard. Tomorrow it's going to be snowing. Snowing hard. So, we had the nasty storm in mid-December, ten inches of snow on Christmas Day and now another half foot or so today.

I'm from Michigan. I used to be acclimated to this stuff. Used to...

doin' it 2003 style

I don't make resolutions. I'm an old debater. Resolutions sound combative to me. Instead, I make goals. So, with that said, here are my goals for 2003. They're listed in order of importance to me.

1 - Meet more people. I can honestly say that has never been one of my goals. Never been an issue. Now it is.

2 - Work fewer hours. Easily acheived by coming in at a decent hour. Say 8:00 instead of 10:00.

3 - Save money. That one's ALWAYS on here. I get a bit better every year. Need to get even better since I'm not getting any younger.

4 - Volunteer more time. Friends of Animals or someplace like that could certainly use my help.

5 - Do a better job keeping in touch with friends. Thanks to randomness it's a bit easier.

6 - Go to more cultural things. Movies, concerts, museums. Yeah, I already go to a ton. I want more, more, more!!

7 - Stop being such a consumer. This should probably be higher. Things don't make me happy. I should stop thinking that they might.

8 - Eat better. I'm the crappiest eating veggie on the planet. Sigh...

9 - Less computer, more books. I've cut the TV down to next to nothing. Now I need to stop staring at a monitor when I come home.

10 - Cut back the caffeine. Coffee in the morning, soda during the day. Not good.

Okay! They're here for posterity. I should check in on them every couple of months. Wish me luck!

blogly duties

I've been neglecting my blogly duties over the short New Year's holiday. Nothing too much to report. Some thoughts on 2002, some goals and wishes for 2003 tomorrow.

Hope you all are having a safe and restful transition to, egads, 2003.

Happy New Year!