Who Says The Dry Spot Doesn't Celebrate the Holidays?

Why, today is National Meth Awareness Day!

Go kiss your favorite Tornado Bait relative.


But not on the mouth.

Blech. I'd post the picture here, but I'd rather make it voluntary. It's your fault if you click here.

NaBloMoPo-ver, Thank God

That's right, it's finally November 30, and unless some sadistic bastard adds another day to November (I'm looking at you, Julius Caesar...), National Blog Posting Month is mercifully over.

And it's about damn time. I made it, but the ole Dry Spot has truly run dry. My brain is a rocky place where ideas can find no purchase. But I had to finish, because I'm something of a completist.

I won't stop reading a book once I start it unless I lose it, no matter how bad it is. I'm the guy that renews it three times at the library and then xeroxes the last four chapters at work or checks it out as a book on tape because he's run out of renewals.

When I was a pre-teen, my mother gave me a Hardy Boys book. Curses! It was something like #37 of the series, "The Mystery of the Homoerotic Gym Coach" or somethinorother. Once I read that one, the obsessive/compulsive in me had to read them all even though I realized after about four or five that they were all the same damn story. Luckily, Franklin W. Dixon was already dead, so I figured I could get ahead of him. Then I found out that "Franklin W. Dixon" was actually a pen name for an entire syndicate of writers who were pumping out drivel like the proverbial million monkeys working on a million typewriters. Crap.

VCRs and TiVo have compounded the problem of my completism. Once I get hooked on a show, I must watch every episode even after I have stopped liking it. "Jumping the shark" does not drive me away. For some unknown reason, I felt compelled to tape every episode of "Seinfeld" and "Northern Exposure" when they were still in first runs. Probably because I was usually so baked when they were on, I thought I might want to rewind and find out what I was laughing so hard at. But I never watched any of the old tapes or even labeled which season or episodes where on the boxes of videotapes which still fill my basement. Had I known about the advent of TV on DVD, I could have saved myself a lot of grief and just paid a lot of money for the box sets which I wouldn't watch. Oh yeah, I did that too. (See "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," "Sex in the City," "CSI" etc. taking up room on our shelves waiting for me or RUABelle to remove the plastic wrap.)

TiVo understands me, though. It knows that I've never missed an episode of "The Real World," "Road Rules" or any of the various incarnations of "The Real World/Road Rules Competition/Inferno/Gauntlet/Duel," so it saves them for me. Many a night I hear a loud sigh emanating from RUABelle as she falls asleep listening to "This is the true story of seven stragers, picked to live in a house..."

The one good thing about this cold I've been battling is that it has let me catch up on my TiVo while I lay in bed, weak as a puppy. At my peak, I was up to 18 hours of "Mythbusters" clogging up the hard drive of my DVR. Now that I'm back to working full time, I've at least caught up to October. I figure I'm one sinus infection away from clearing the queue.

Here's hoping...

Skeletor Does Not Need Lipitor

Is anyone else creeped out by Robert Jarvik doing those Lipitor ads?


I'm not sure I want medical advice from somebody who looks like Spalding Gray after they fished him out of the East River.

Hey, I Recognize This Cold...

It's the one that has already laid low half the folks I know. You know, the one with the sore throat that feels like you're swallowing rusty razor blades that have been dipped in acid.

I'm gonna stay home today and try to lessen the duaration and severity of this thing with rest, Halls and Zicam. Any other advice?

Cyber Babble

Today's Tennessean includes what must be their umpteenth "Parent's Guide to NetLingo and CyberSpeak" in an attempt to educate (panic) parents about what their children are thumbtyping into their cell phones. Not only is this redundant and outdated, it's not even informative as the only actual acronyms which they listed were:

LOL Laugh out loud
LOLA Laugh out loud again
BRB Be right back
TTYL Talk to you later
POS Parents over shoulder
TDTM Talk dirty to me
IWSN I want sex now

Illuminating work. I'm tired of seeing the same stuff over and over again. I know that internet safety is an important issue for parents, but I think BusyMom's primer is a lot more valuable than this crap.

And also, it's not just tweenagers and perverts texting each other anymore. What about the rest of us more erudite chatters? I offer for your edification, The Nashville Bloggers Guide to Cyberspeak.

KYRAR Kerry, your ribs are ready
GGAG Gunnar's got a gun
BLM Brittney linked me!
TSJMFOU The Scene just made fun of us
BWMGCA Butcher wrecked my goddamn car again
SGAR Sista's got a recipe!
C/S/MHAFUN CeeElCee/Smiley/McCeemey has an f'd up name
WJDYM Which Jag do you mean?
WRDYM Which Rex do you mean?
DMWDN Don't mess with Dork Nation
OSN Or Sarcastro neither
EAU Edna's acting up
PWSRTLOTDATBEAACTROVTIITOAMHAUB Perhaps we should raise the level of this debate above the base emotional argument and consider the ramifications of viewing the issue in terms of a more holistic and universal basis.
YSLNB You spell like Nemesis Boy
KSB Kat scratches back
BMAK BusyMom's at Krystal's

Another Random Photo

Don't even look at this. It's just here because I want to use it as my profile photo and I'm not html-savvy enough to add it any other way. Carry on.

Mountain Pix

I promised a few folks I'd post some pictures of another or my favorite Sewanee gravesites. So here ya' go:





We live in the Garnertown area of the mountaintop. Yup, it's named after the famous moonshiner.

One more photo for you:



Two observations-First of all, Nellie the Nervous Pudelhund has obviously come a long way since she used to want to bite me and crap and pee all over me whenever I tried to pick her up. Secondly, I grow my beard out every Thanksgiving to see how much grayer it has gotten since last year. The answer is a lot.

I Sing the Body Eclectic

Both Wonderdawg and Sista Smiff offered some interesting, if random, insights into themselves by playing along with this little meme from A Voice of Hope.

So I figured I'd give it a try.

Here's how it works:

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool and no disclaimers allowed.

Opening Credits: Sugar Pie - The Subdudes

Waking Up: Forro de Minha Terra - Duda Da Passira

First Day At School: Wild Cat Blues - Clarence Williams' Blue Five

Falling In Love: Monkey Let the Dogs Out - Allison Krauss and Union Station

Fight Song: Next Time You See Her - Eric Clapton

Breaking Up: Rolling Stone - Muddy Waters

Prom: Symphony #2 (1st movement) - Beethoven

Mental Breakdown: Pay Bo Diddley - The Snakes

Driving: Slow and Easy (A.K.A. Lawless Mike) - Dave Brubeck

Flashback: Jackie Tequila - Skank

Getting Back Together: Having a Blast - Green Day

Wedding: Mr. Toad's Wild Ride - Tower of Power

Birth of Child: Anselma - Los Lobos

Final Battle: Don't Stand So Close to Me - The Police

Death Scene: You Make Me Feel So Young - Frank Sinatra

Funeral Song: The Condom Song - Unconscious Pilot

End Credits: Scuttle Buttin' - Stevie Ray Vaghan and Double Trouble

Interpretation is up to you. I'll be glad to answer any questions about my strange-ass music collection in the comments.

Bah, Humbug.

RUABelle had no interest in my "Black Friday Door Buster Special" at 5:00 am.

Then as soon as I turned on the TV, I heard "Christmas is right around the corner!" With apologies to Mrs. Jag, I may head for the other corner.

Oh, I Thought She Said "Wired"

The fabulous Sista Smiff has admitted that she might have some "eccentricities and called me out to share my weirdness. So here are 6 weird things about CeeElCee.

1. I have freakishly long toes and can tie a shoelace and make a paper airplane with my feet. My second toe is as long as my pinkie. We're talking baby hands here, people. Sorry to gross you out. These "talents" did come in handy back when I was a summer camp counselor at the Cumberland Museum and the projector would break down. Sitting in front of a pile of kiddies hopped up on Hawaiian Punch and calming them down by doing toe tricks is a surreal memory, even today twenty some odd years later.

2. When I watch a dvd, I always watch the special features before the movie. This includes the trailer of the movie I'm about to spend two hours watching. Yes, it does drive RUABelle batty.

3. I have taught hundreds of people how to juggle and how to rappel. Not at the same time. I have a proprietary method to teach even the most spastic folks how to juggle three tennis balls. Ask me about it sometime.

4. I can play three songs on the banjo strictly by finger memory. I took lessons for a couple of months when I was in high school. Once I learned how to play "Foggy Mountain Breakdown," I had achieved what I wanted out of the instrument so I quit going. I can still pick up a banjo and play "Foggy Mountain", "Cripple Creek" and "Bile That Cabbage Down" but I have no idea what I'm doing when I play it. I tend to just stare off into space, slack-jawed and on the verge of drooling like some sort of "Rocking Horse Winner" while my fingers play the rolls and execute the hammer-ons and pull-offs. Call me a savant. Or and idiot.

5. I was in Jim Varney's first movie, "Doctor Otto and the Riddle of the Gloom Beam." This was pre-Ernest. It was very bad, but it is available on dvd. I'm the guy in the science fair scene wearing the maroon faux-Members Only jacket who gets a table full of tires dumped on him the robot science project that has run amok. No, I didn't get paid extra for the stunt work. I am in the credits though, and I did get to go to the gala opening at the Belle Meade Theatre.

6. When I sing along with a song, I like to sing harmony parts instead of the melody. And not even the traditional harmonies. F'd up harmonies. This makes me good to have along for a small acoustic gig, but horrible at karaoke. I used to play the tuba, so I sing the bass line to the "Start Spangled Banner." The rest of my musically formative years were spent listening to bluegrass, so that leads to other pretty messed-up harmonies as well. You should hear my high lonesome version of Creed. Be very afraid.

So there, now you know six more weird things about me.

How about you, Sara , Sara , FishWreck , Jag , Knuck and Kosmo? Tag, you're it.

Abusing the System

Let's try something. No, I promise it'll be fun. It's sort of like the bat signal.


Hey Kathy T. at NiT, please make my site meter spike.

Now don't you feel cheap and tawdry for falling for that and clicking over here.

Sorry, I promise I'll have something more NaBloPoMo-worthy before the end of the day.

p.s. Man, I'll look pretty silly if Kathy doesn't link to this. Nah, she likes a good joke.

They've Earned My Repeat Business

Last night I ordered a cd of house/trance/funk music** from a friend of mine who was a DJ in Miami from a company called CDBABY.COM. Today I received the following delightful email:

"Thanks for your order with CD Baby!

Your CD has been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with
sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.

A team of 50 employees inspected your CD and polished it to make sure
it was in the best possible condition before mailing.

Our packing specialist from Japan lit a candle and a hush fell over
the crowd as he put your CD into the finest gold-lined box that money
can buy.

We all had a wonderful celebration afterwards and the whole party
marched down the street to the post office where the entire town of
Portland waved 'Bon Voyage!' to your package, on its way to you, in
our private CD Baby jet on this day, Wednesday, November 22nd.

I hope you had a wonderful time shopping at CD Baby. We sure did.
Your picture is on our wall as 'Customer of the Year'. We're all
exhausted but can't wait for you to come back to CDBABY.COM!!


Thank you once again,

Derek Sivers, president, CD Baby"

Color me impressed. Now that's what I call customer service! I'll be using CDBABY.COM again the next time I'm shopping for an independently-produced house/trance/funk cd. Okay, well maybe that won't happen again, but I would if it did.

** There's something weird for ya', Sista.

A Slightly More Constructive Day

Well, I actually accomplished something today. Since I woke up this morning, I’ve managed to:

1.) Hike around my property and check out the north forty. (Okay, the north four…)
2.) Drive in to Winchester to the Tractor Supply to buy materials to build a pistol range tomorrow.
3.) Do a little a on the way. Yeah, I’m a nerd. You already knew that.
4.) Build a new composting pen for the tons of leaves I plan to move around this winter.
5.) Actually rake up some of those leaves so that at least they’ll stop holding all the moisture on my dry-rotting porches.
6.) Hike the old Goat Track railroad trail around Sewanee.
7.) Take my garbage and recycling to the Convenience Center.
8.) Make it back to the cabin in time to pop open a nice cold beer and share it with you, Gentle Reader.

Now there’s nothing left to do but wait for RUABelle to bring Nervous Nellie the pudelhund and our buddy Mistersippi up for the rest of the week. I’m guessing traffic out of Nashville may be a bit gnarly, so I’m not holding my breath. I have provisions to last at least a few days. Longer if I’m willing to eat the suspect frozen burritos and potted meat food product we’ve had since we bought the place.

Tomorrow is power tool day, so if you don’t hear from me it means I probably cut off my typing hand. Send help.

You Can Shove "The Notebook" Right Up Your...

Late last month, my buddy NewsComa, whose opinion I always respect, pointed me to the drama going on at Atomic Tumor. As most of you know, AT is a young man who shared with the bloggosphere the ultimately painful experience of losing his lovely young wife and mother of their two children to some sort of raging infection. When I first started lurking, her condition was serious but not dire. As I checked back in daily, then hourly her prognosis became bleaker and AT's emotions became rawer and even more personal.

I was rapt at the depth of emotions and also the attention to mundane details of day to day life that this brave young man was sharing with anyone who had the ability to open a browser and type in a url. This worried me. I tend to get too empathetic in a bad way. Hell, I got uptight following along with the trauma of BusyMom's sick laptop, much less the ripping apart of a young family. I actually woke up in the middle of the night thinking that I felt some cosmic headslap that the end had come for GAC. I didn't even know these people. How could I be so affected by the plight of total strangers? It gave me a sort of skeevy, stalkeresque feeling about myself.

But in the end, I think that AT chronicled this tragic month for himself because it was the thing he knew how to do best. I don't think he cared if we watched. He wanted to share his Barbara Jamie with the world and to have a way to work through his emotions. Early in the ordeal I thought that when and if his wife did ever wake up, she would have a record of the depth of love and emotions that her husband felt for her that is unlike anything I have ever shared with anyone.

I believe this account is a love story for the ages. I don't feel skeevy anymore. I feel lucky to have read it. Good luck, AT. Take care of yourself and your family.

I Was Hopeful When I Saw This Headline

Foreigner killed after Iraq hijack

Turns out they weren't talking about the band. Too bad.

I've always wondered why Stevie Ray Vaughan had to be on that helicopter that crashed while Men at Work lives on to tour in perpetuity.

So sad.

The Road to Hell...

Today is the first day of my five day vacation at our Sewanee cabin. RUABelle won't be up until Tuesday night after she sends the little kindermonsters home for Thanksgiving break. I fully intended to get up really early this morning, pack the truck and get to Sewanee in time to rake leaves, cut up some downed trees and split some aged wood.

Unfortunately, I slept a little late, the cats were difficult to round up (it really is like herding cats) and it's been snowing off and on all day. So here's what I've gotten accomplished:

1.) Unpacked
2.) Went to a Chinese buffet for lunch
3.) Played guitar for two hours on the couch
4.) Watched Oprah

I needed this.

Okay, Okay...I Can Take a Hint!

Is it bad when you can't find your newspaper three days in a row because you need to rake so many leaves out of your yard?

But don't worry, I "raked" it with the lawnmower and found all three editions.

ed.-Apologies to NewsComa.

Commerce-Small and Large Scale

RUABelle and I took advantage of a weekend in town without a Titans game to run some errands on Saturday morning. The most pleasant was a trip to Jeffraham Prestonian's manor on the river to pick up a few items I purchased at his West Gnashvegas Swap Spot. I hesitate to tell ya'll about it in case I want to buy some more stuff from him later, but I know he could use the money and Curly the extra-cool cat needs the scratch too. (pun intended) Plus, I got a free copy of Curly's Christmas dvd so I owe them the shout out.

Nellie the Nervous Pudelhund has enjoyed watching the dvd of Curly's adventures around JP's apartment. We left it on the kitchen tv while we puttered around the house and actually found it and Jeffraham's original soundtrack to be quite soothing. Our cats were a little more more suspicious though.

After leaving Casa Prestonian, we went to the opening weekend of the new Costco in West Nashville. I have never been to a place outside of the Magic Kingdom which more efficiently separates you from your money. The lay-out of the store was easy to figure out, the staff was very courteous, the check-out personnel were extremely efficient and the parking lot was easy to navigate. In other words, it's the anti-Sam's Club. The experience has already convinced us to let our Sam's membership lapse whenever it comes up for renewal again.

But here's a hint...don't go without a list. Ouch! No really, we needed that gallon of sundried tomatoes and the prelit topiary Xmas tree.

The Dry Spot Index

With apologies to the Harper's Index.

Number of posts to The Dry Spot to date: 301
Days between 1st post and #100: 106
Days between #101 and #200: 90
Days between #201 and #300: 74
References to the lovely RUABelle without giving away her real name: 92
References to Jim, er, The Nashville Knucklehead without giving away his real name: 33
Trips to the Mothership since it opened: 22
MTA bus trips since I said I'd try to ride it once a week: 44
Posts which refer to or revolve around my bowels: 7
References to my false positive syphilis test: 8
Highest rank of the Dry Spot when searching Google for "kahlua and breast milk": 2
Magicians which hijacked my site: 2
Mentions of the word "shit": 11
Mentions of the word "fuck": 7
Trip reports or travelogues: 23
Fights picked with the IRS: 3
Attempts at political commentary: 5
Readers who give a crap about my political views: 0

I'm Worthless and Weak

First of all, let me acknowledge that this is my 300th post, and I
fully intended to have something momentous to say.

And I wanted to let you all know how nice it was to meet Curly the cat, and his roommate Jeffraham Prestonian when we did our commerce today.

Then I was going to give you all my review of the first trip to the new Costco in West Nashville.

But unfortunately RUABelle and I spent all day at the Sportsman's Grille drinking beer and watching football games. And now we're headed to the DogDoc's for fajitas and the late games.

So this is all I got for now. If it wasn't for this Post per Day Month promise, I'd just blow it off until I had something more.

You deserve better, Dry Spot readers.

I promise to make it up to you next week while I'm not working.

Stay tuned and hold me to it!

I Shoulda Worn Sweatpants Today

I'm just back from a wonderful Friday lunch at Monell's, sharing delicious dishes and delicious dish with that delicious dish, Sista Smiff.

Yeah, we talked about you.

Don't worry. It was all nice stuff.

Bless your heart.

Things that Make You Go Guurrrrrghle-hk-hk-hk

It just occurred to me that Nancy Pelosi is about to be one hunting trip/myocardial infarct away from the presidency.

Darn constitution! We oughta amend it or something.

Oh yeah, and throw in my idea about Christmas Decorations before Halloween while we're rewriting the rulebook.

Night of the Living Bed

I think it’s a combination of taking Melatonin and reading too much Rex, NewsComa and Short & Fat but I’ve been having the craziest dreams about zombies lately. They’ve actually been quite entertaining. If RUABelle would let me, I’d start bringing popcorn to bed so I could enjoy the movie on the inside of my eyelids even more.

If my memory was better, I could be writing these dreams now and possibly composing America’s first great RomZomCom ala “Shaun of the Dead.” Unfortunately, due to several factors my memory is for shit, so I doubt I’ll be able to actively participate in NaNoWriMo.

I guess I could still give it a try. Let’s see what I remember from last night…

“Harrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Brains! Urrrrrrrrrrr!”

Great, only 49,997 words to go.

A Modest Proposal

I've been complaining about the early appearance of Christmas decorations for awhile now.

I've really enjoyed reading my kindred spirit over at The Holiday Grinch.

But I'm afraid we aren't making too much progress. So I offer what I feel is a very reasonable guideline:

NO CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS SHOULD BE DISPLAYED BEFORE MARY REACHES HER THIRD TRIMESTER!

I don't think that's too much to ask.

The Dry Spot Sellz Out

Well, it seems everybody else is trying to make money off of these here innernet tubez, so I figured why not Mr. Cee as well? But I like to pretend that one of the reasons why I do all this writing (typing?) is in an effort to actually get paid to write, not just to attract folks to the site so they can click through an ad for weight loss products and various enlargement creams, (As an aside, if I rubbed hoodia and member enlargement cream on my John Thomas at the same time, would they cancel each other out? I think they would.)

Anyway, I’d rather get paid for voicing my own twisted opinions and sharing them with the tens of voracious readers that stumble drunk across this site in the middle of the night looking for information on false syphilis tests and kahlua and breast milk. And thanks to a suggestion by my buddy at fishwreck, I may have discovered just the site which will allow me to do that.

ReviewMe.com is a place where bloggers (that’s you and me kiddies) can sign up and be paid to publish reviews of various products. Advertisers can troll through lists of blogs by category and request specific bloggers to review their products. They pay between $40 and 5400 to ReviewMe.com for each review and then the website splits that with the reviewer in the form of a monthly check or a PayPal deposit.

In the interest of fair disclosure, I’m even getting paid for this review of ReviewMe.com. They’re all about fair disclosure over there and expect all reviewers to notify readers that these are paid reviews. But there is no obligation to write favorable stuff. They expect bad reviews as well and will still owe money even if you don’t like the product you are assigned.

So what do I (or you) have to lose? If you’re opinionated, verbose and have at least a few live eyes looking at your site, run on over to www.ReviewMe.com for a looksee. It might be a way to earn some beer money until their venture capital money runs out.

For more info, go here.

Update--Kerry Woo is absolutely correct that they ask for an SSN on a non-encrypted site. This is worrisome and should be corrected in my opinion. I would recommend sending it to them in two separate emails to at least make it a little more difficult to hack. Nothing is foolproof. I've had to give my SSN to any employer I've ever worked for and I'm sure that some of the HR folks who saw my form could have copied it down at any point. It's the risk of working in a computerized society.

My Mindscape Today

The best part about yesterday's game was when Titans Fullback/U.S. Marine Corp veteran Ahmard Hall was the last player introduced and ran out of the tunnel proudly carrying an American flag on a pole high above his head.

It would only have been better if he had sprinted across the field and plunged it into the chest of Brian Billick, pinning him to the sod like a katydid in a sixth grader's insect collection.

Am I a little bitter about the game? Yeah, maybe a little.

TGIM

You ever have so much fun over a weekend that you actually start to look forward to Monday so you can get some rest?

That's what happens when you spend the weekend with NewsComa and the Rodent Queen. We had a blast at Artrageous and shared the drama and trauma of the Titans' loss to the Dirty Birds of Baltimore.

On the whole, it was a great weekend. I'll need a little mental vacation at work for the next couple of days. Good thing I don't build bridges or do brain surgery...

Ingrish Spoken Here

I stopped by the Teeter to buy some mixers for a pre-Artrageous cocktail with RUABelle, NewsComa and the Rodent Queen. (Yes, I know how lucky I am.)

I found this on the front of a Tropicana Lemonade bottle.

When did they start letting fortune cookie writers work on their labels?

"Proofread with not from English degree."

A Random Thought While Watching ESPN

Is it just me or is Rutgers' football coach

one shipwreck away from starring in a Geico commercial?

Kerry Woo Thinks We're Idiots

Wonderdawg didn't get why Sista and I wanted to stop the truck and take this picture. But he also doesn't listen to Nancy Van Camp and Lisa Patton when they tell us to put on football helmets and sit in a bathtub full of pillows in an interior bathroom whenever a bad storm is bearing down on Big Sandy.

Who's the dumb one now, Mr. Dawg?

Oh yeah...us.

A Call to Arms!

Do you remember a couple of weeks ago when I was trying to give away free tickets to the Nashville Gridiron Show presented by the Society of Professional Journalists? Well none of my blogger friends took me up on the deal, so I gave the tickets away to somebody here where I work. They said it was a hilarious send-up of local politics and politicians and brought me a book of the lyrics.

Apparently, we should have been there. Here's what they sung to the tune of "God Bless the U.S.A.." (Feel free to hum along with your internal monologue as you read.)

"Well I found a home in cyberspace, with all the geeks and nerds.
Perfect outlet for the screwy thoughts I must put into words.
I'll out my little sister and rat on my old man
And they won't know who did it--catch me if you can...

I plan to stay anonymous so no one knows it's me
Or that I'm only fifteen with braces and ac-ne
`Cause no one ever listens to what I have to say
I'm up all night, I write and write...
I...blog...the...USA!

Watch out for those chat rooms if my user name you hit.
You'll think I'm twenty-seven and look just like Brad Pitt.
And if you dad's a Senator conservative of name
Don't go public with a six-can beer belt on your frame...

I plan to stay anonymous so no one knows it's me
Or that I'm only fifteen with braces and ac-ne
`Cause no one ever listens to what I have to say
I'm up all night, I write and write...
I...blog...the...USA!"

Personally, I'm not wearing my pajamas as I type this and my acne is clearing up quite nicely, thank you. (Shout out to B-Mo.) I'm calling Brittney and Kleinheider out as our most worthy representatives within the "mainstream media." Get out there and kick some ass for the blogosphere! If you need some bitter, cynical cowriters...I can think of a few. Maybe take a look over to the right side of this page. That's all I'm sayin'.

Happy Anniversary, Baby! Got You on my Mi-ind!

Egads. Little River Band. Gotta shake that somehow...

Luckily, RUABelle and I did something last night that should help exorcise the pablum of Beeb Birtles from my brain.

Yesterday was our 16th anniversary.* We celebrated by eating dinner at Koto,(mmmm, sushi and sake) and then grabbing a quick drink at the Crosswalk Bar in the Renaissance Hotel before the show at the Ryman.

I may look like the whitest dude on the face of the earth. My skin has been described as "cadaverous." But when it comes to music, to quote Tower of Power:

"You and me might disagree, 'cause I like rhythm and blues
Now I'm not dissin' disco, I'm not saying punk is bunk
I can't settle for heavy metal, cause I got to have that funk

I like soul with a capital S
Soul with a capital S
Sweet soul music, that's the best
Soul with a capital S"

And how! We spent over three hours listening from the second row of the balcony at the Ryman to Ozomatli and Los Lonely Boys throwing it down and had a great time.

I had seen the Lonely Kidz a couple of times before in small venues. Really small. Like the Hog's Breath Saloon in Destin and Elliston Square. I was impressed how well their show translated to the Mother Church of the Ryman. But even I have to admit that the 40 minute masturbatory guitar noodling of "Onda" was a bit much. Thanks to RUABelle for sticking with me during that one.

We were especially impressed by Ozomatli, a nine member multi-ethnic funky horn band from L.A. Their amalgam of funk, rap, cumbia and jazz made for a great show. Despite the fact that I'm sure that this was the whitest audience they played in front of on this tour, (there might have been two people in the whole crowd who I would have called "swarthy") they showed a playful exuberance that was born of their love of the music and maybe a little bit of pharmaceutical assistance, if you know what I mean.

In a brilliant stroke, they marched down into the audience while roadies cleared the stage for Los Lonely Boys. They continued to play back line rhythms for a half hour on the floor of the Ryman, in the lobby, up the stairs and in the balcony right in front of where there merchandise was being sold. As the Guiness guys say, "Brilliant!" They concluded their impromptu between-sets interlude by leading the entire crowd waiting in line for the bathrooms in the funkiest version of the "Sesame Street" thene that anyone would ever have the pleasure to hear.

The Dry Spot gives them four spots. Check them out!

* "Anniversary of what?," you might ask. "You guys aren't married."

That's a good point. It's always difficult to name a starting date for a relationship, especially one that has lasted as long as ours. So, no, we didn't choose the first time we did that as our anniversary date. Get your minds out of the gutters, people.

But it's not exactly the anniversary of our first date either. RUABelle was a cocktail waitress in a bar where I used to play guitar. We flirted for a couple of months before I finally asked her out to a movie. But it was "Ghost," and I'd already seen it with three different women that summer so we really don't count that one. Plus she wouldn't go out for a beer with me after the movie as she was playing hard to get. I was of, course, too dumb to figure that out.

So we mark our anniversary two weeks after our first kiss which happened as I loaded up the car after a gig in Bowling Green. I waited patiently for that fortnight until I could get back up to where she worked again for our next tryst. I played the gig until 1:00 in the morning and then went back to her apartment where we stayed up talking until the sun rose.

Then I had to drive back to Nashville and be at work by 8:00. That part sorta sucked, but my feet weren't really touching the ground anyway due to the flush of new love and a total exhaustion buzz. So that's the date we use. Now you know.

Bloggers Without Borders Trip Update

Brief pit stop by the Patsy Cline, Cowboy Copas and Hawkshaw Hawkins crash site. Much reverence was observed. Back on the road to Hooterville.

Marching into Paris

Well, Camden actually...

We've collectively solved half the world's problems before the first pee break.

We'll get working on this Iraq thing once we get back on the road.

Nerdz on Wheelz Tour 2006

If you see a maroon Tahoe headed west on I-40 today traveling at 85 mph, blaring some obscure music and emanating obscene levels of electromagnetic radiation from the multiple gadgets plugged into every cigarette lighter/splitter/power inverter, that would be me, Sista Smiff and Wonderdawg on the way to offer humanitarian aid to our recovering friend and pundit, NewsComa.

I suggest you politely get out of our way because I think I have already proved my propensity to type a really long run-on sentence on my Treo while driving.

Be very afraid.

Stall Warning

Brittney has a nice post about her voting experience today. She mentioned that some folks were taking their children in to vote with them. That brought back some memories about how my mom used to always take me into the voting booth with her.

I never remember anything about my dad's voting procedures other than he always admonished me to "vote for the weakest Democrat in the primary so that they'll have a worse candidate to run against us." (italics mine-sentiment his.) Hell, I was only eight years old. Maybe he thought I was giving Mom advice while we in the booth since he wasn't able to stand there and remind her who to vote for. He was definitely a believer that the only reason women got the right to vote was to give married men two votes as opposed to single (gay?) men.

So anyway, Mom always took me into the voting booth with her and I remember the rush of civic grownup pride I got hearing that half curtain whoosh shut behind us and how cool it was to pull the big lever that locked in your votes. In retrospect, it really was like pulling the handle on a slot machine.

On the other hand, Mom taking me into the ladies room stall with her...not so cool.

But ever since we stopped that practice at about age six, I've pretty much established the "one person per stall" rule. No matter how many times certain bloggers invite me to the Greyhound station for lunch.

Get on Up-ah! Like a Sex Machine

I know that today is election day, but I voted a couple weeks ago so I figure there's really not much I can do about it now. And I know that the CMA's were last night, but I want to address a country music topic that I can't believe has been overlooked by the local blogging cognoscenti.

This is a quote from Sara Evan's divorce filing talking about her husband Craig and his deviant sexual habits:

“On his computer, husband maintains ‘Craigs Lists,’” the filing claims. “Many of them involve requests for three party sex and anal sex. Husband’s ‘Craigs Lists’ are composed of personal ads on his personal sex engine involving him and prospective sex partners.’”

Did no one at Sara's attorney's office or anywhere in the media know what the hell Craig's List really is? Did they really think that every request for man to man and man to woman and woman to woman and man to monkey sex on the entire national classified network was the responsibility of a frail little right-wing Oregonian transplant living off his baritone wife's coattails?

"Yeah Sara, your husband posted 6784 requests for sex today. And apparently he's trying to sell your old microwave and give away some U-Haul boxes."

As Bugs would say, "What a buncha maroons!"

p.s. Where do I get one of those "personal sex engines?"

I'm Sure It's Me

RUABelle has today off so that the little chilluns in her class can get a short fall break. I decided to take today off as well so we could have a three day weekend together. We've spent every hour together for three days running errands and cleaning house. Fifty-nine hours so far. Fifty-nine hours and twenty-seven minutes. Together. Alone.

This is one reason why we're not married and I don't ever want to vacation on a desert island.

Frank You Very Much

My mailbox had been full this week with postcards and newsletters from various state representatives and senators. I've always thought that franking privileges were a really unfair advantage for incumbents during the election cycle.

But now I'm really ticked off. Why do they think they need to tell me what they've been doing over the last month when they haven't told me anything else they've accomplished during the first 3 1/2 years of their terms? I know what they've been doing lately. They haven't done crap except campaigning!

Vote the fat cats out.

A Bad Omen?

I root avidly for two football teams: The Tennessee Titans and the Stanford Cardinal.

The cumulative score of their two games this weekend?

Opponents-85 My teams-7

Maybe I will make a good Cubs fan, after all...

My Attempt to Raise the Level of Discourse During this Political Season

RUABelle and I were watching the Arkansas/South Carolina game and she pointed out that the last names of the two punters are "Succop" and "Dick."

Heh, heh.

Sorry Aunt B

It was a fair drawing, witnessed by several reputable poll watchers and Jimmy Carter. The envelope was held over my head and I reached in and pulled out the first piece of paper I touched.



I'm a little bit conflicted by the choice. I've never been somebody you would describe as "trendy," and I know lots of folks who root for the Cubs because they are lovable losers and they like to drink Bud and Old Style.

But I also have a few very good friends who live and die with the Cubs despite the fact that they are the worst team in the National League. They love them in spite of the fact that if something bad can happen to a team, it will happen to the Cubs. They sit day in and day out (and now unfortunately night in and night out) at the bar watching WGN and reminiscing about the days of Harry Carey while their hopes are crashed daily against the rocks of fate. They take pride in the fact that their most famous icon was an addled alcoholic announcer and that their management continues to make wrong decision after wrong decision. In the face of all of this, their devotion remains stalwart.

I wanna be that kind of Cubs fan.

Let's play two today!

Final Exit Polling

Well, the big decision is tonight at 8:00 at the Sportsman's Grille. It is then and there that I will pull the chad (ooh, that does sound dirty) that will decide which MLB team I will root for during the 2007 season. I am closing all lobbying efforts at noon today and no supporters will be allowed within 100 ft. of the bar during the time of the election.

I have been inundated with intense last-minute campaigning and I have to admit some of the negative ads have started to wear on me. And some people's "logic" revolves about how cute I'd look in a John Candelaria vintage Pirates cap. I promised to respect everyone's opinion, no matter how weird.

I'll be glad when this process is over and a selection has been made so we can get on with the business of running this country, working to bring our boys back from Iraq and talking about my various bodily functions.

So the current polling is one chance for each of the 30 major league teams with the following adjustments and their lobbyists:

+1 Red Sox Bridgett
+1 Yankees Hutchmo
+1 White Sox Shauna
-1 Cubs Aunt B
+2 Cubs DogDoc, Mistersippi
+1 Brewers Kerry Woo
+2 Reds Sista Smiff, Fishwreck
+2 Pirates NewsComa, Aunt B.
-1 Pirates JB

It may be after midnight before we can get the final results tallied, depending on how many Jager shots I drink. So stay tuned tomorrow for Selection 06!

It's On Like Donkey Kong!

I admire the heck out of anyone that's attempting the November novel deal. I, myself, have the attention span of a golden retriever puppy, so I don't think I'm up for it yet.

I am something of a completist though, so I'm gonna take Shauna up on her challenge to join the NaBloMoPo Project.

Mainly because I really dig the logo.


A post per day? Piece of cake. I'm all in, bay-bee!

Overheard at the Sportsman's Grille Last Night

"You should drop by the house tonight. You left your football on my kitchen table the last time you were there."

"I'll do that. Oops, I totally forgot I have your covered dish to return. I'm sorry."

Whadda buncha pansies! Oh wait, that was me and the DogDoc talking.

Not that there's anything wrong with that...

The Scariest Thing that Happened to Me on Halloween

No, it wasn't realizing that we were almost out of candy and Play-Doh at 7:30 and were down to handing out Southwest Airline peanuts.

It was when I went to the "TiVo Recommendations" menu before I went to sleep.

TiVo has a proprietary technology that watches what you watch and reports it back to Big Brother at headquarters. That information is used to track demographic patterns and report to the networks and advertisers. That doesn't really bug me at all.

The most visible aspect of this info analysis is what TiVo chooses to record for you without your asking. They compile your viewing habits and make a profile of what you might want to see, but possibly haven't thought to record yourself.

I've had TiVo for a couple of years now and it's always been pretty easy to figure out where the recommendations come from. I record a lot of Real World/Road Rules type of shows (guilty pleasure), so I guess it's logical that TiVo chooses to offer me the highlights from MTV's Spring Break Beach House Party. Thanks for the skin, TiVo.

And I have something like fifteen hours of saved Mythbusters on the ole hard drive, so I can see where TiVo would think that I want to watch Dirty Jobs and the various Monster Garage/American Chopper/Overhaulin' incarnations. I usually "bloop bloop" them away almost immediately, but I appreciate the sentiment.

So I'm settling into bed last night to see what my digital guru has ordered up for my entertainment pleasure, and what to my wondering eyes should appear?

TiVo has recorded two solid hours of the Weather Channel for me.

Shit, I'm old.