Just Five More Minutes, Mom!

One of the most dangerous Microsoft Outlook features is the ability to hit the snooze button on tasks that you have put on your to do list. I just had one pop up that said "48 weeks overdue."

Oops.

Bowling for Dollars

For some people-watching fun, may I wholeheartedly recommend Opry Mills mall the day before the Music City Bowl. It helps that Clemson and Kentucky are playing and have brought their, ahem, colorful fan base to town.

Let me just say the Earnhardt memorabilia was flyin' off the shelves at the Bass Pro Shop...

Take a Short Trip in a Time Machine with Me

One of the problems with my "12 Days of Blogger Christmas" series was that I hated to interrupt the flow of it unless it was something important. Y'know like earning 20 bucks reviewing a hotel site or bitching about tipping my garbagemen who I've never even seen, much less met before. So I totally missed out on the chance to give y'all two trip reports so that you can vicariously share the joy of being a biz-pig traveler on stupid overnight jaunts. Two weeks ago was a quick one day scramble to Dallas via Kansas City and Houston which was neither enjoyable nor memorable. As a matter of fact, it's starting to get a little hazy now, so let's just forget about that one, n'est-ce pas?

But last week, I got to sneak up to Washington D.C. for a day and a night to visit some old college buddies, so here are the random notes from that trip:

The main reason I headed up there was to see one of my best friends from Stanford. He's from Korea and serves as an advisor and professor at some think tank that is dealing with North Korea/South Korea issues. His father was the Korean ambassador to Nigeria and Australia when I knew him in college; needless to say my friend is quite international. He went to high school in Massachusetts and is a die-hard Red Sox fan so I guess he's really sort of a mutt. He's been working as a fellow at the Brookings Institute for a year and a half and was just about to return with his family to Seoul when I decided that I would have been a real shitheel if I hadn't made it a point to visit him before he left.

I won't bore you with my usual claptrap about how I used nothing but buses and trains to get to the Nashville Airport and around D.C., but I did. And, come to think of it, I guess I did just bore you...

The Metro dropped me off right in front of the Smithsonian, and since I was only packing a small backpack with me I figured I'd hike around the Mall a little bit before I met up with my college friends. Unfortunately, D.C. distances are like Vegas distances due to the size of the structures involved. "Aw hell, the Washington Monument's right over there. I'll just hoof it on down." Two hours and several blisters later, I finally made it back to the brew pub where we were supposed to meet up.

I did take a few cool pictures along the way, though.


Monumental Eclipse

Lincoln.

No, it's not.

After an enjoyable night of visiting, catching up on old times and taking an around the world tour of expensive beers, the next morning I had a couple hours to kill before heading back to the airport. I figured some of the Smithsonian Museums would be better than one more beer at the airport bar, so off I went. Besides, the museums are free, err...I mean I paid for part of them with my tax dollars and I might as well avail myself of them.

Getting to the Museum of Natural History right as it opened, I did the 30 minute tour. All the school age kids ran straight to the dinosaurs, but I figuired they weren't going anywhere. Instead I headed upstairs to be the first one of the day to see the Hope Diamond and all the other mega-gems in the mineral exhibit. I got to tour the space exhibit in total peace and even touch a piece of rock from Mars. Pretty cool. They also have an amazing exhibit of nature photography in one of the temporary galleries that was well worth the ten minutes I spent there. I was going to buy RUABelle a souvenir, but I figured that after sixteen years together as a happily unmarried couple, a t-shirt with a big ass diamond on it emblazoned with the word "HOPE" might not have been the most sensitive of gifts.

Then I headed down to the National Gallery. Two huge gallery buildings make up the complex, but I just went to the collection of pre-20th century art. It is in a beautiful building constructed of Tennessee marble which stretched several blocks. Anticipating patrons like me with time constraints and the attention span of a golden retriever puppy, the Smithsonian has actually put together a 60 minute gallery tour and map.

I saw almost everything on the itinerary, including the only DaVinci painting in the U.S. (recently restored to an incredible brightness-that must have been a scary job), and a lot of other great pieces by Rapahel, Van Eyck, Rubens, Rembrandt, Vermeer (the Girl with a Pearl Earring dude), Monet, Manet, Cezanne, Botticelli and Toulouse-Lautrec. I would have seen all of the pieces on the quickie tour, but the gallery was sparsely attended on this dreary cold December morning. That meant in most of the small individual galleries it was just me and a uniformed security guard. How is that a problem, you ask?

First of all, it made me nervous having them looking over my shoulder and walking two paces behind me until they passed me off to the guard in the next room. Maybe I shouldn't have worn my Basque Separatist t-shirt and toted that bottle of HCl around with me.

Secondly, being the polite friendly southerner that I am, I felt the need to say "howdy" to every guard as I entered each gallery and made intitial eye contact. 25 "howdys" probably cost me the chance to complete the "crystal meth crankin' tour" of the collection.

Wandering back to the Metro to head for the airport, I was struck that Reagan National is even open after 9/11. The flight paths of jet after jet forced them to bank steeply to wend their way around tall buildings and monuments as they dodge a steady stream of military helicopters and flocks of Canadian geese. And the Capital and the White House are only 30 seconds off of the final approach path. I don't know what kind of armamant they have on top of the White House since Google Maps has airbrushed it out. But whoever mans the battle station has about 15 seconds to make a decision if there's even a perceived threat on the property and whatever they use to defend the area in that short of a distance must be pretty bad-ass.

I think next time I'll fly into Baltimore and take the train in.

I Got What I Wanted for Xmas

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 13)<

That's all I got. I'm beat. I think I'll take a long winter's nap now.

Happy holidays, everybody!

(Except for you, Sista. Merry Christmas to you.)

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 12)

"Of the Good"

A woman of uncommon beauty

uncharacteristically silent

stands in the kitchen drinking coffee

in a house where her mother

once was

staring at where a tree

once was

wondering what

once was

will be.



Her shoulders bow

under the weight of a self-imposed load.

She bears it gracefully.

Usually.

Few know the gravity

beneath the levity.



A pink tongue tickles her exposed ankle.

A strong, soft hand touches her neck.

Neither startles her.

Instead she cocks her head to the side,

Trapping long fingers between her shoulder

and her curly locks.

"Let's go upstairs."

sigh.

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 11)

The naming of Kat is a difficult thing
With so many choices to choose
To find the right name that has the right ring
I really don't think I can lose.

Libertarian, knitter, bunco group leader,
Wife, friend, pet owner and daughter,
Talented writer, voracious reader
Of Atticus, Frodo and Potter.

Katherine, Katy, Kathy or Kay,
Zevon fan, graphic designer.
I get less done in a whole day
Than she does from her recliner.

Of course it's not fair to compare me to her
And all of her Hogwart-like powers.
When I'm abed and have ceased to stir,
She uses all twenty-four hours.

Renaissance woman, forensic foe,
Moral compass of NiT.
Editrix, KC, Ren* and K-Co.
*"Kather-Ren," not "and Stimpy."

Too many names. I can't settle on one.
It's taken me down to the mat.
So after all of this exercise's done,
I'm honored to know her as Kat.

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 10)

For Sista Smiff, what else could do but a rousing Bluegrass breakdown?

Feel free to pick along Rex. Somewhere in the neighborhood of G.


Chorus

You know that she is my Sista!
Dedicated to her Mista.
But sometimes I wishta
Been the first who kista.

Spoken in a Waylon Jennings/Dukes of Hazzard style over the instrumental break:

"Of course I don't mean "sista" and "kista" in the Appalachian sense. We all recognize the sanctity of the matrimonial vows and the fact that Sista's Mista is about six foot fourteen inches tall and frequently wields a tool of rosewood and wire about the size of a Mini Cooper. I'm just sayin' is all..."

Repeat chorus

You know that she is my Sista!
Dedicated to her Mista.
But sometimes I wishta
Been the first who kista.

Verse

She's a name dropper
She's a show stopper
She's a WalMart shopper
She's a gravy sopper.

Waylon again:

"But is it really name dropping if you actually know the person you're talking about? I don't think so. And neither does my friend Dale Earnhardt, jr. Say hello, Dale."

Dale, jr. (If we can get his agent to return our calls):

"Howdy, y'all!"

Verse

Wishes she wuz Paula Deen
Cooks a mean turnip green
Loves her some hot cuisine
She's our blogger queen.

Repeat chorus

You know that she is my Sista!
Dedicated to her Mista.
But sometimes I wishta
Been the first who kista.

Waylon:

"Mmmm, I could sure go for some of that Sista home cookin right about now. How about a banjo solo while I go eat? Take it Rex!"

64 bar banjo solo. Go ahead and go to the kitchen for a snack. We'll wait.

Verse

She's a fast talker
And a Osmond stalker.
I'm just a mall walker.
Who's a silly Focker.

Waylon:

"I have nipples, Focker. Could you milk me?"

Repeat chorus

You know that she is my Sista!
Dedicated to her Mista.
But sometimes I wishta
Been the first who kista.

Waylon:

"Again let me reiterate the use of the 1st person is traditional in the folk song genre and in no way is meant to represent any particular person in any way that might impugn anyone's reputation or get anybody's ass kicked."

But sometimes I wishta
Been the first,
Been the first,
Been the fiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrst
Who kistaaaaaah!

Waylon:

"She's your Sista. You know you love her."

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 9)

BusyMom
click-through poetry


Busy/Mom

Funny/Sad

Cranky/Comforting

Overwhelmed/Nurturing

Mainstream/Quirky

Anonymous/Eponymous

I'm not done talking yet...

Mother/Daughter

Playful/Serious

Poetic/Profane

Speed Demon/Minivan Driver

I'm done now!

Another 12 Days Interlude

Am I the only one that's such a cheap bastard that they won't get a haircut in December or put the trash out the week before Xmas because you don't want to leave a holiday tip?

It's gettin' shaggy and stanky around here...

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 8)

K to the Woo to the 2

or

"When I'm calling woo-oo-oo-oo-oo. Will you answer Twuu-uu-uu-uu-uu?"
Bad Nelson Eddy/Jeannette McDonald Kerry0ke

Here's to the wonderful Wonder Dawg. Kerry Woo. Kerry Woo.

Renowned gadgeteer. PS2. PS2.

Mothership lover. BBQ. BBQ.

Practical joker. Pac Man, Boo! Pac Man, Boo!


Phoblographer. He'll out you. He'll out you.

Breaking stereotypes. 6' 2". 6' 2".

Affirming stereotypes. Knows kung-fu. Knows kung-fu.

Obsessed with origami. I am too. I am too.

Hoarder of vinyl. Zeppelin II. Zeppelin II.

Big Dawg Promise Keeper. Cares for you. Cares for you.

Lives every day to help others. You should too. You should too.

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 7)

The Pantheon Limericks (part 2)

Janus



The anonymous Holiday Grinch

Isn’t me-not a foot, not an inch.

She claims to be cynical,

But in terms more rabbinical

Compared to me she’s quite a mensch.



Arkate and Alpanu



I’m sleeping in Sarcastro’s bed.

Hey, I bought it from him! And he said,

“It’s been lucky for me.”

Then how come I see

An impression of Exador’s head?



Deverra and Intercidona



I love not one Sara, but two.

Nashville Clark, Californian Sue.

Ribald and plucky,

I really am lucky

That their humor hue tends to the blue.


Cupra


Malia's a pretty cool cat.

Maliakainanani, that's phat.

She makes me start tryin'

To talk dirty in Hawaiian

Or say, "Can I buy a vowel, Pat?"


Rosmerta


Not all poison ivies give rashes.

There's one who absolutely thrashes.

She's really bad, bad

Cuz she actually had

Checks for blogging that she cashes.



Telche



A lovely young lady named Kate-O,

Means B-Dub cannot hardly wait-o

To click her profile

And see that winsome smile

And settle down with a nice cup of Earl Grey.

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 6)

The Pantheon Limericks (part 1)

Haruspices

There was a fanatic named Hutch,

Whose teams would perform in the clutch.

His beloved Titans

Started piling up wins.

But his Commodores, eh, not so much.

Artemis

A Memphian blogger named Lynnster,

Too beautiful to stay a spinster.

She’s delightfully spunky,

And her tastes are quite funky.

She’s registered with Howard Finnster.

Hera

A Girl Scout leader from Smyrner,

May put blogging on the back burner.

It’s true Kathy T.

May give up realty

If her wrinkle book is a page turner.

Gemini

Duplicate blogger names are a mess,

Sometimes causing young Brittney stress.

Jag-he or Jag-she?

Well, personally,

I prefer my Jag testicless.

Quirinus

That Volunteer Voter Kleinheider

Is the right wing’s pit bull of a fighter.

But sometimes I think

That if he were a drink,

Aunt B. would want Carter in cider.

We Interrupt the 12 Days of Blogger Christmas for the Following Paid Commercial Announcement

First of all, thanks for all the kind comments and ego stroking on my poetry efforts. But y'all do know that I have no freakin' idea what I'm doing? I'm just pretending to be able to write, and frankly it's pretty exhausting. I once took a two week poetry writing class during our Winterim enrichment period during high school. On the day I was supposed to present my work to the class, the guy before spent a half hour presenting his tone poem about a horrifying event that happened during his childhood. I still vividly remember the last line, "I floated down the stairs petrified with terror, and stepped into a puddle, of Dad." It was pretty wicked stuff.

I had written a really dreadful song about a Dungeons and Dragon character. Something like "I Got Them Half-Orc Blues," or some crap like that. After the therapy session of the first guy's poem parsing, I just said I hadn't finished yet and took the incomplete. Coleridge, I ain't.

But in the middle of this poetry cycle came an opportunity from www.reviewme.com to review www.hotelreservations.com . Hmm, a conundrum. These reviews are time sensitive, and I sorta made a commitment to follow through with the assignment, even if it is in the middle of the holiday season and my "gifts" of poetry to my favorite bloggers. Can I really interrupt this artistic cycle to insert the crass commercialization of a paid review?

Of course I can! That's exactly what you all would expect here at The Dry Spot. I follow through with my commitments and never flinch from the opportunity to insert some capitalism amongst the sentimentality.

Plus [REVIEW BEGINS HERE IF YOU HAVEN'T BEEN PAYING ATTENTION], www.hotelreservations.com is a pretty cool site. I'm one of those geeks who likes to make all of his own travel reservations, despite the fact that we have a corporate travel agent. I know that whatever fee they charge is probably cheaper than the time I spend jumping around from site to site, comparing flights and hotel pricing. Until recently, I primarily used travelocity.com as the conduit for these searches.

Then last month, I had a really bad experience with them. Without going into too much detail, let's just say that they switched a flight to an entirely different day without telling me and that I spent three hours on a Sunday night talking to a guy named "Lucky" (yeah, right) in Calcutta trying to work out the problem. This was compounded by the fact that travelocity.com's hold music has a 30 second loop of cool jazz guitar licks that I know I heard 200 times during the time that I was on hold waiting for "Lucky" (yeah, right), and you can imagine my level of frustration. Eventually I told "Lucky" (yeah, right), "Sir, you realize that what we're doing know is arguing over the end of our business relationship. You guys tell me that I'm a V.I.P. Member, but I'm not feeling very "I" right now!" So a month later, they refunded the money that was wasted on a hotel reservation that was rendered unusable by the fact that they had moved my flight to the day after I was due to check out. Nice.

So the timing is perfect if somebody wanted to try to sell me on a new travel research/booking site. And along comes www.hotelreservations.com. The site is sparsely, but attractively designed. Not that it helps me, but I appreciate the fact that you can choose your language and currency to display the information right on the opening home page. In addition to the expected airline, hotel and rental car options, www.hotelreservations.com also offers vacation packages and vacation rental properties, both of which distinguish them most other travel reservation sites. They also offer the opportunity to talk to living, breathing humans if you need help. I don't know what country they are in, but even if there are cattle in the street outside the window from their cubicle, they have to be better than travelocity.com.

I also liked the little details like the fact that when you enter a proposed departure or check-in date, the little calendar thingy automatically changes to display the dates following, rather than just defaulting to January or the current month. This feature would certainly help to avoid people (ahem, I'm looking at you, "Lucky" (yeah, right)) accidentally scheduling return flights for the day before they leave or hotel departures before their flights arrive. Can you tell I'm still steaming?

They also have a "travel roulette" page where you can just check out the deals from the top U.S. and international travel destinations. If you have lots of free time and money, I'll bet it would be fun to use this feature to plan trips or just to dream about them. Of course, if you have all this free time and money, why are you visiting this site? Go chase a Hilton sister.

So www.hotelreservations.com will at least earn a crack at my business. Their timing is perfect; their interface is easy and intuitive to use; and their pricing seems competitive with most other travel sites. The Dry Spot says give them a gander. If you choose to use that other site instead, say howdy to "Lucky" (yeah, right) for me.

We now return to the unbridled sentimentality of the holidays. Ho, ho, ho.

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 5)

"Para la Tia a Que Adoro"

When thinking of a poem to write for B
The bee I fear is buzzing in my bonnet.
At least one detail is nailed down for me.
The structure must, of course, be of a sonnet.

I do not have her writer's eye or ear
For poetry or Wigglebottom's barkin'.
So should I write a poem like Will Shakespeare,
Or maybe one a little more Petrarchan?

What do I know from trochees and iambs?
My gift is not for consonants and vowels.
B's posts would win in Eminem's rap slams.
I write about my poodle and my bowels.

The couplet's come, so please try not to heckle.
I'd give my eye to see that famous freckle.

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 4)

Rex, Rex, Rex L. Camino.

How you vex, vex, vex the amino

Acids coursing through my brain,

Connecting synapses-bringing me pain

As coffee shoots out through my nose

On my keyboard-on my clothes.

Giggles pealing through my head

Chortling at what I just read.

Coworkers checking in on me,

"Are you alright? Did you just pee

Your pants, you silly little twit?"

"No, I've been slain by Rex's wit."

"Well, shut the hell up. It's hard to work.

And blog on your own time you selfish jerk."

"I quit then! Take this job and shove it!

I'll stay at home, read Rex and love it."

To Mr. Camino I offer this rhyme.

I may be broke, but I have my time.

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 3)

"Lovely Brittney"




g
n
i
m
o
o
l
B like a hothouse flower, before our EYES as she becomes more comfortable
in her own skin

the Den Mother of a Cub Scout troop on acid

Uses her bartending skills to bring out the best in the shiest and put off the worst in the brashest

gentle but tough
soft but rough


carries her minor celebrity status within the geekosphere with an affable grace

OPEN to everyone but the CLOSEminded

She's no Log Lady-She's our Blog Lady.

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 2)

"Song of My Pork"

1

I CELEBRATE my pork and sing my pig;
and every butt I rub, I rub for you
Each rib, stroked lovingly, covered with my sauce.

The ivory shaft of loin
Grows taut as I caress it,
Perfumed with my cumin.

It is for your mouth forever--you are in love with it.
I will go to the stack of wood
And stoke your flames.

2

I breathe the smoky fragrance--the heady perfume of the funk.
I know it shortens my life
With each whiff. It is my art. My gift to the world.

My clothes smell of the funk.
My hair reeks of the funk.
My soul oozes the funk.

The bass line of my being thumps along with your heart,
As a red trickle escapes your lips and
Smears your chin.

3

The tang of the cheese makes your tongue
Recoil with surprise and delight.
The buttery texture of the mac slides down your throat.
There is no opportunity to refuse its intrusion.

Pintos-peppery and potent.
Like sparks exploding in your mouth.
You must have more, More, MORE.

Apples smelling of Christmas and heaven,
Tasting like the devil's ambrosia.
There is a heady rush of heroin in these sides.

4

I stand behind the counter;
I lean upon my elbow with my chin upon my hand.
I am always here. Waiting for you. Needing you. Come to me.

You will be satisfied.
Sassified.
Satiated.
Sated.
Fully and passionately Knucked.

The 12 Days of Blogger Christmas (Day 1)

I'm not just being all warm and fuzzy around the holidays, but one of the real blessings of this year has been all the new interesting people I have met through blogging. I'm fairly positive that I have met more people that I consider to be my friends than in any year since I was a freshman in college. The intellectual stimulation I have gotten from reading and writing has really brightened what could have otherwise have been an extremely stressful year.

The downside of making all these new friends is that I'm too cheap to buy everybody Christmas presents and, as regular readers know, I'm kinda against the overcommercialization of the holidays. So what is the DrySpot to do to recognize and honor the friends I now treasure, while at the same time not contributing to the crass excess of the yule season? (And despite common belief, I'm not The Holiday Grinch . If you came to the blogger holiday party, you'd know she's a lot better looking and more interesting than I am.)

Like the little drummer boy, I have no gifts to bring (pa rumm pumm pumm pumm). So I figured, what the hell? Why not give the gift of poetry? Despite the fact that I have no history or aptitude for the medium, how hard could it be? Just make some words rhyme and leave out some punctuation and a few carriage returns and voila, poetry!

So to kick off this holiday train wreck in honor of my favorite bloggers, I offer "The Short and Fat Haiku Cycle."

He is Short and Fat.
Yes, he is. No, he isn't.
He has deceived us.

I like to kid kim.
I joke that he is tiny.
He could beat me up.

He dreams of glory.
On the ice. With the frisbee.
Gretzky isn't scared.

He is a great boss.
If you believe in silence.
If not, hit the road.

He keeps the world safe
From corporate pigz like me.
Buckle your seat belt.

Military man.
Proud father to Baby Fat.
Gunfire on prom night.

Is he god or man?
It's impossible to tell
The truth from fiction.

Lolly, Lolly, Lolly Get Your Cold Beer Here!

How would you like a chance to get all “Rocky Horror” on your favorite Saturday morning educational songs? While drinking a beer in the same theatre that your second grade teacher told you to “get your damn feet off of the chair in front of you!”? (Well maybe that was just me)

Of course you would! Then you should come on down to Schoolhouse Drinks!, er Rocks! at the Nashville Children’s Theatre on Friday January 5 at 6:30 pm.

And as a special incentive to my friends and as a way to show my support for the Theatre, email me that you want to come and I’ll personally pay $10.00 toward your admission. So that makes it only $15 a head for an evening of beer, popcorn, singing and memories.


Some of the songs performed:
Sufferin' Till Suffrage
Noun is a Person, Place or Thing
Interjections
Figure Eight
Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla
Lolly, Lolly, Lolly
Mother Necessity
Conjunction Junction
Interplanet Janet
Plus a bunch more.



Come on along! It benefits a great organization and it’ll be a blast!

CeeElCee

Re: Last Night's Blogger Party

I wasn't there. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. It's amazing what all you people can do with Photoshop and ProTools to make it look and sound like I was in attendance.

RUABelle and I were at home, reading scripture to each other. I think it was 2nd Thessalonians, but I'm not sure because I was drunk.

I've Been Working on the Plumbing All Morning...

Please send hip boots!

On the plus side, I think I've finally found a costume for tonight's "Holiday Blogger Meat-up" at the Mothership.

Your Friday Dose of Culture

"WINTER"

A poem by Don Slote

SHIT

It's Cold.

Tres Cosas

THREE THINGS

Scare me: yellowjackets, Alzheimer's, loved ones in danger

People who make me laugh: David Sedaris, Richard Pryor, Short and Rex and Fat and Camino (I think they're two halves of the same coin).

I love: RUABelle, our pets, the snooze button

I hate: I try really hard not to hate anything or anybody. UC Berkeley, USC and UT Vol football fans are as close as I'll allow myself.

I don't understand: Organic Chemistry (it made a History major out of me), what makes women cry, why I like to do Sudoku puzzles.

Things on my desk: Purell hand sanitizer, an empty coffee travel mug, a red Swingline stapler

I'm doing right now: trying to catch up from missing a day of work last week, wishing the office cleaning fairies would visit while I'm at home tonight, anticipating a really good dinner with RUABelle and a vendor tonight at Nick and Rudy's.

I want to do before I die: spend another month in Brazil, hang-glide, make a difference in a child's life.

I can do: juggle, make a joke about almost anything, comfort.

I can't do: make myself care about my job anymore, walk across a narrow path in a high place, fight this feeling anymore (sorry, REO Speedwagon occasionally lives in my medulla).

I think you should listen to: Los Lobos, Prince, Mozart.

You should NEVER listen to: Any band where the haircut is more important than the music, Dick Vitale, any member of The Staggering Prophets when making a wager.

I'd like to learn: to play the piano, how to ride a bike without getting exhausted, how to pick locks.

Favorite foods: my smoked pork tenderloin, ice cream, bacon.

Beverages I drink regularly: water, Miller Lite, wine

Shows I watched as a kid: whatever the cursive handwriting show was on Channel 8 with the really hot young brunette teacher with the utterly calming sonorific voice, Three Stooges with my dad, James at 15.

Tagging: Nobody. I'm with Sarcastro. Stop the insanity!

On Deep Discount at the Tennessee Sports Fan Store in Opry Mills

Erron Kinney jerseys
Chris Brown jerseys
Andre Woolfolk jerseys

Is that a clock I hear ticking...?

American Airlines Flatus 223 Is Now Arriving in Nashville

Yeah, we all heard the story about the woman who grounded the flight because she was lighting matches on the plane to cover up her own stank .

But does the dateline on all these stories have to be Nashville, TN? The plane was headed from Washington, D.C. to Dallas. We just happened to be the closest place to put `er down after the refrieds began to percolate.

Like we really need more backwards-ass press coverage. Read the "News of the Weird" column in the Scene. You'll notice a disproportionate percentage of items come from the middle Tennessee area.

Sheez!

Well,There Goes Crotchless Christmas

Here's what the rest of America saw on CBS last night:



Here's what Nashville got, thanks to WTVF:



Bah, humbug!

An Acknowledgement of My Advancing Age

After months of fighting it, I just finally hit "ctrl +" to increase the size of all fonts that I read on Firefox. I have to scroll around a lot more, but at least I can take these Granny Clampitt glasses off of the end of my nose.


What time's the Early Bird Special at Luby's Cafeteria?

Learning to Build a Watch

Thanks to everyone for their advice on my sizing dilemma with regard to women's clothing. I had always recognized that there was something vaguely nefarious and shrouded when women's clothing manufacturers were sizing their wares, but I had no idea how far-reaching the trouble was. I'm sure RUABelle will end up with something that she's not completely embarrassed to wear in public.

Another item on her wish list was an iPod. Alright! That's right up my alley. I immediately switched into CNET mode and started the discovery process. There are a lot of things to consider when buying an expensive piece of electronics, and I take a quiet joy in doing the research.

Me: OK, you know there's a lot of different kinds of iPods, right?

Her: Sure, remember I bought you one for your birthday?

Me: Oh yeah. (sotto voce) And I swapped it out for another one.

Her: Why don't you just get me one like that?

Me: Well, there's no need to have two of the exact same ones since then they'd both have exactly the same music and movies on them and we'd hardly ever use them at the same time. We could just swap them back and forth with each other if that was the case.

Her: So what do you need to know?

Me: Are you planning to use it at school or at home? Do you want to use it in your car? Do you ever plan to use it while you exercise? How many songs do you think you want to put on it? Do you want to use it with your Mac or with my PC? Do you want one with a display or would you just like the tiny little shuffle? Do you want to be able to choose what order your songs play? If you do get a display, do you actually want to be able to watch video on it or just use it to see your playlists?

Her: Wow, that's a lot of things to think about.

Me: Yeah, so do you have any idea which one you want: the Nano, the Mini, the Shuffle or the Video iPod?

Her: The pink one.

So the pink one it is. Leave it to me to take all the magic out of the freakin' holidays with my over-analysis.



Merry Christmas, sweetie. I hope you continue to not read my blog at least until the holidays are over.

A Cry For Help

Well, I'm just now back from a semi-fruitful lunchtime trip to Opry Mills with only a few drops of blood hitting the keyboard as I type this. But I've realized I have a problem.

I'm steadily chipping away at RUABelle's Xmas list. I've got every little hint she dropped in the past year squirreled away in my Treo (geek.) Most of the stuff I can handle. Stationery, check. Some household appliance gadgets, right in my wheelhouse. Stuff for the pets, who can complain? Even a nice coat, because she went as far as giving me the item number at JCrew.

But I've hit a brick wall with the silk blouse thing. RUABelle has a very nice sense of style-preppy and conservative, but very classy. I would wear Hawaiian shirts and blue jeans every day if it were up to me. And I did before I met her. Yet, still she loves me. What do they say? Men love women hoping they'll never change. Women love men hoping they can change them.

So anyway, first of all I'm stymied by what size she is. I won't put her measurements or numbers on the internet, but she's about so tall and yea big around. Does that help? I once asked her size and she told me, "I'm a petite large."

Let's let that sink in a moment.

Petite large. Petite. Large.

What the hell?! Apparently, I'm in love with a jumbo shrimp.

Then there's the style and color issues. I wandered around the women's departments of several stores, being careful not to linger in the lingerie. I even went as far as to select a few blouses off the racks and begin to walk toward the check out, only to hold the hanger up and think, "Yeah, this would look really nice...on a hooker." Maybe I should be shopping for Toys for Tarts.

So I'm lost, friends. I need the help of someone from the distaff side. I'm willing to take internet shopping advice or the services of a personal shopper. What's in it for you? Lunch at the food court restaurant of your choice at any mall in the greater metropolitan Nashville area and the opportunity to watch a guy whose generally thought of as a fairly together dude look absolutely clueless for thirty minutes while you drag him helplessly through a store.

Any takers?