Country Radio Seminar 38 is underway...

I'm sitting at a table in the bar/cafe in Nashville, working on rebuilding my business website with an associate and Violet. We are all three on our laptops. We totally represent. (represent a group of geeks)

Montgomery Gentry (the country artists) just ordered drinks at the bar to my right. It's noon. My kind of guys. I'm having coffee right now and will likely stick with that until well after 5.

Last night we closed down the bar at 3:00 and went to the Hermitage Cafe for breakfast. The analogy would be: Hermitage Cafe is to Waffle House as Ponderosa is to Ruth's Chris.

I was disappointed to find that Nashville instituted a ban on smoking in all public places in the past year, so the cigars I brought were for naught. And today, I still don't feel the greatest, which may be partially because I got 4 hours of sleep last night after a ribeye and egg breakfast at 3 in the morning. *buuurrrpp*

Excuse me.

Oscar wrap (not the pseudo-burrito kind of wrap)

I did something last night that I had never done before, watched the whole show, start to finish.

Ellen did well, she's always great with comedic timing and content. Her outfit didn't do much for me, but then neither did anyone else's. (the opulence and fakeness of Hollywood leave me on the verge of vomit) Ellen did what she does best, and it was very effective and funny. (especially the line about Jennifer Hudson/Al Gore/votes)

The ongoing segment with the shadow people behind the screen was pretty cool.

Will Ferrell's song was funny. It was great to see Scorsese finally win one. (I refuse to call him "Marty," as if I've known him all my life - call it a pet-peeve) I thought Gore's involvement was good - and as a believer that changes must be made to avoid catastrophic consequences, I think he's found his calling, and is finally getting a mainstream audience for his message. Good for him.

The speeches were boring. Most of them, anyway. I hadn't seen the movies. Most of them, anyway.

Honestly though, the nominations/awards continued to convince me that the Academy Awards are out-of-touch with America. Sure, there weren't a lot of HUGE movies this year, but even in years when there were, much of the recognition falls to the indy or ensemble types... not those making movies for mainstream America. I will say, the one movie I failed to see last year that I WANTED to see was "The Departed," and it fared really well. That was another bright moment - I GOTTA see that film.

And I do realize that it takes all types, nationalities and personalities to make films, but it felt like Americans were vastly in the minority at the event... this year more than usual.

Call me out of vogue... (as if you needed my permission) with a few exceptions, I just don't see the appeal of many of the movies that were awarded trophies last night. And sure, maybe the fact that I hadn't seen most of them says more about me than the industry.

Just my two cents.

Sunday morning

So... the day after I blather about being a hypochondriac but how I'm probably not really sick, I come down with something. I have no energy - which may have something to do with the fact that I've slept no more than 5 or 6 hours a night for the past week - and my appetite is way down. (although a big ribeye steak sounds good right now)

Apparently I'm going to be sick during the Country Radio Seminar in Nashville next week, which is never a good thing. There IS a small piece of positive news though... I've been sick during seminar before, (this is my 17th year in a row) and it seems that massive consumption of scotch actually kills germs. I'll keep you updated...

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It rained a ton here yesterday, which is the second time this winter we dodged a bullet. Ten degrees colder and we would have been buried in snow.

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I'm trying hard to get pumped up about the Oscars tonight, but as Bill Maher says, it's "when Hollywood salutes the finest films nobody has ever seen."

I'm hoping to adopt a better attitude about it by broadcast time. Mikey and I installed a pair of surround speakers in my basement ceiling yesterday, so we will hear all the arrogance, false angst and gross opulence in Dolby 5.1 surround. I can't wait to hear the fake thankfulness, sobbing like an Anna Nicole judge... and long, drag-on speeches cut off by music in the crystal clarity that Klipsch is famous for.

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I witnessed Violet whip up one of my least favorite recipes this morning, Waldorf Salad. For me, anything that mixes mayonnaise, nuts, grapes, celery and raisins is the equivalent of ipecac.

She's attending her friend's baby shower today and provided the Waldorf, along with a regular salad, beer, wine and an assortment of other things... all efficiently prepared or organized while I, the sick, whiney baby, looked on.

That's all I got. Have a nice rest-of-the-weekend.

It's 3 am, I must be ... awake

"I was licking jelly off my boyfriend's penis, and all of a sudden... I'm thinking 'Oh my God, I'm turning into my mother!'" - Sarah Silverman

I'm watching her Showtime stand-up special and it's pretty funny, but I'd totally rather be punching my pillow into just the right shape and then drooling on it... or drinking insane amounts of Captain and Cokes... because those are the types of things you do at 3 am.

Three of the last five nights have been the same. I wake up at 3, usually from a really weird dream. I lay there in the dark, listening to the train pass about 2 miles away and wonder how the people who buy a condo right by the tracks (an entire complex is currently being built) will ever sleep. That goddamn train goes through three times between 1 and 5 am.

Then I think about how I feel right now, checking for pain anywhere in my body - and if I find a few pains, wonder what they mean. I am a borderline hypochondriac. Yes, there MUST be something wrong if I have symptoms.

By now I'm comletely awake, so I open my laptop and start worrying.

WebMD is the satan of the online experience. It makes a hypochondriac like me completely ape-shit. (click) Lupus. (click) Lymphoma. I start reading, and suddenly I'm having every symptom that points to Lymphoma. The power of suggestion is strong with hypochondriacs. So I start reading about survival rates, thinking about what to do with my life insurance payout, who I should trust to distribute it... shit, I wonder if I can get some of it before I die. I have a million in life insurance coverage - I could do some major vacationing before I kick it.

This thought pattern starts a panic attack. My stomach hurts and I start sweating a little. OMG, both 'stomach ache' and 'sweating' are on the symptoms page! (click) (click) (click) click) Soon, I am also dying of a brain tumor, with a side of gout.

Screw you, WebMD. I feel like Al Pacino in Insomnia.

The Ambien is starting to work. I'm now seeing double, my eyelids are drooping and I'm now slouched over my machine. Don't get me wrong, I'm still convinced I have some disease, but soon I will be able to sleep on it.

Oh great, here comes another train.

EDIT: in the light of morning, I realized I had rambled on and on about disease as if I really thought I have something. I do not, of course. Those kinds of things tend to sneak in your mind when it's 3 am and you're sleep deprived and sitting in a quiet living room, just you, a lamp and your laptop. So Mom, I know you're reading this - I'm fine!
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One more thing before I drift back to sleep - apparently American Idol's Antonella Barba, the one I thought would be voted out in the first week, might be pushed out in another way.

I believe she can get expelled by this sort of picture, and there are others to see here. I'd look for some sort of shake-up this week. At least it will be interesting. Thanks to Steve Mays, who pointed me to the pics.

Sordid stuff

The Baptists must be running NYC.

Check out this story. The NY Supreme Court says there is to be NO DANCING in bars which aren't licensed to allow dancing. Where are we... Purdy, Missouri in the 80's? Am I Kevin Bacon?

I think I just winked into another dimension. Whodafug is legislating dancing these days? I guess NYC is.

So if I get up from my table and put my hands over my head to stretch, but the dancing police think I'm "pickin' up a banger, 'bout to bus' out a shizzor to the niggabeats*," I'm spending the night in jail.

Word.

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After the first week of the American Idol pool, I am already behind the pack. I totally blew it with Paul Kim - I thought he would be a top-six finalist, but his pitiful song choice in the first round landed his ass on reject row.

If you are glued to the set during Idol like I am, you were likely floored by the fact that Antonella Barba made it through round one. W-T-F?

Anyway, I'm already one back in the pool and it looks like my five dollars is gone. Shit, I needed gas for my Hummer...

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Dr. Mike and I decided last night that we're purchasing a VW Bus. Mikey is going to partner up with us by providing his mechanical expertise, which I'm pretty sure we'll desperately need if any of the busses on eBay end up in our driveway.

It will be the freakin' BOMB, there should be no doubt. First thing we'll do is make it a kick-ass beat-box on wheels. A pair of 15" subs, some monster speakers and a GPS. And an La-Z-Boy recliner in the passenger position.

Then maybe we'll make sure the engine runs.

Look, I'm just saying that this machine will be a tailgating beast for Cardinals games, it will be the hit of the float trip and everyone in the 'hood will hate us because of the thump.

This is the one we're looking at. Consider it a "before" picture. I'll keep you updated.

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It's not like I'm a member of the Microsoft fan club... but I don't have a natural tendency to hate the rich just because they're rich. I need other reasons.

Here's a guy who's worth 53 billion at last estimate, and many would say he's gotten a lot of his money by being a harsh, sometimes unfair competitor. Point taken, Microsoft has crippled many challengers with sheer weight, and the world's best legal team.

But Gates is giving billions of his personal dollars away via his foundation... to some really worthy causes. This is the sort of thing a "good guy" does.

Business is business, and Microsoft has been the preeminent heavy hitter in the software industry for decades. But, companies like Google, Apple and others are showing that there is no impenetrable wall around Microsoft.

These days, Bill Gates seems to get as much or more pleasure out of giving back, than running his company. I like that. Dude's cool in my book.

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Random picture of Uncle Dave with my adopted niece, Ella.

*actual hip-hop term, I'm not racist so settle, yo.

Thursday mornin' coming down

My day is starting off with a steaming mug of coffee and Google news. This is how I start almost every day, but today the sun is shining and we're headed for the 50's, so I cracked a window and a breeze is blowing up my boxers.

I've also been thinking about travel this morning, using mapquest to plot a drive in March to Florida for a few days, and pimping my travel agent to get some packages ready for a June trip "south of the border." (and I don't mean Arkansas)

Usually a trip to Mexico means the Riviera Maya for me, it's quieter (and newer/nicer) than Cancun, yet still easy to get to. Most everything is all-inclusive, which is a bit of a drawback. You don't always get the top-shelf food and liquor at those places, but I've found a couple of exceptions.

So, June 20-27, make sure to check my blog... I will be posting pictures/stories frequently.*

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Begging forgiveness to Amandarama for the following piece... it appears Tom Brady is in a paternal pickle. (clearly he's had his pickle in one too many jars lately) Probably the best headline I've found for this story is:

Bridget's Panties in a Brady Bunch over Gisele

That's classic.

In a nutshell, prior to breaking up with Supermodel A Bridget Moynahan in December, Tom Brady slipped her his Patriot missile. Obviously, he didn't realize he had injected a warhead in her bunker...

Eh, I see these metaphors are going nowhere.

He got her pregnant.

And his NEW girlfriend, Supermodel B Gisele Bundchen is miffed because she had to find out about it while on their romantic Paris vacation.

I'm not usually in the habit of worrying about celebrities and their torrid personal affairs, but this story does my heart good. It appears to me that Tom Brady is making "passes" (doing the "quotations" gesture in the air) at every supermodel he sees. Unfortunately, a large percentage of them appear to be dumb enough to "huddle" with him... then when an "interception" occurs, they are upset to find out he's "scored" with someone else.

Whew, my fingers are tired from all the "quotation" gestures.

Anybody feel sorry for Tom Brady? Anyone? How about Gisele... or Bridget? Maybe I feel the slightest tinge of pity for her, since she will be raising the child of the guy who was instrumental in BEATING THE RAMS IN SUPERBOWL XXXVI.

And now you know what this is really about for me.

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A conversation I "overheard" last night:

Person A: (observing Person B exiting the restroom after quite a long stay) "So, how'd things come out? Would you say like a docked canoe, a nice tight coil, or more of a log jam?"
Person B: "Have you ever thrown a chocolate water balloon against the wall?"
Person A: (vomits)

I may or may not have been Person A in this conversation. Person B may or may not have been Dr. Mike.

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I got these roses for Violet on Valentine's Day, and snapped the pix with my Sony Cyber-Shot 5.0 - it's a little old but takes fantastic photos. I'll never pick up another film camera. Do you still use film?



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*By "freqently", of course I mean never... I doubt I'll be taking my laptop anyplace I could be on a beach with a rum drink and an umbrella.

I have become a blogger deadbeat

I can't believe I have been such a neglectful blog-father. My support payments (blog entries) are late, I haven't kept up with visitation (of friends' blogs) and I'm probably about to be hauled in by the division of blogly services.

And I'm about to make myself puke with this stupid analogy.

For the past two years I've kept things fairly up to date, even blogged daily. Lately, it's twice a week or less... which indicates one of a few possibilities:

1 - I'm far too busy to blog...

2 - I've been abducted by Heidi Klum... or

3 - I'm a lazy sonofabitch with no life, thus nothing interesting to say.

I'd like to think it's number two. But it's more likely three. It's certainly NOT number one.

So starting today (okay, tomorrow) I will pay more attention to my blog. I will keep it up to date with my thoughts on world events, the really juicy personal stuff and fabulous pictures. I will take time to point out what I think my friends are doing wrong with their lives. I will force upon you my perspective on things like innie vs. outie, why I would ever downgrade to someone like Heidi Klum from the brilliant and delicious Violet, and why tangerines give me cancre sores when I eat 35 of them in one sitting.

And remind me to tell you why low fat Cool Whip chaps my ass. (not literally) (well, maybe literally)

I'll now leave you with a picture of the fair Violet (Emily) and me.

Remember to floss. See you tomorrow. (no, I mean it this time)

Bald Britney, Boring cars and fun Bags (or B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B)

"What is ya, ignorant?" - Billy Ray Valentine

Jeezus, you have got to be kidding me. Well kids, there goes any lust I may or may not have had for Britney. This is not a photo-shopped picture. She SHAVED HER HEAD.

This is the latest in a litany of premeditated occurrences in her life that indicate personal and professional implosion.

Thanks to my buddy Prepi for pointing it out.

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GM may be buying Chrysler. This would be a big one.

Usually when corporations merge, it irks me. This might be an exception for me, and I'll explain why.

People simply aren't buying American cars right now. Why? American cars have all the creativity and uniqueness of a stalk of celery. GM and Ford are BORING. These pictures should be example enough for what I'm saying. Do we really need another model of mini-van????

Since the American automotive renaissance of the 1990s, American automakers have lost the thread. GM is doing a pretty good job with their Saturn and Hummer branches, but that's just about... it. European and Asian automakers are eating our lunch in catories like fuel economy, style, safety and durability.

Daimler hasn't found a comfortable use for Chrysler so if GM, through a partnership with Chrysler, can absorb their car lines, US automakers will begin the slow climb back to competitiveness.

Now, what to do with Ford.
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Beads and puke will fly in New Orleans (and St. Louis) this weekend, as the Mardi Gras celebration continues. Translated, Mardi Gras means Fat Tuesday and it's almost a requirement to attend one Mardi Gras celebration. A 1000-count bag of beads costs 3 dollars... you'll see at LOT more breasts than a strip club, dollar for dollar.

I've never been to the actual Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but I've been there the week prior and that was enough for me. Don't get me wrong, you can never see too many boobs.

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Funny commercial I heard a few minutes ago: "If you have trouble sleeping because you have a strange sensation in your legs, you may have RLS - Restless Leg Syndrome. Ask your doctor about _________ today. Side effects may include nausea, dizziness, vomiting..."

If nausea, vomiting and dizziness isn't worse than having a restless leg, WTF.

Happy Balumtime's Day

In an effort to avoid signing a contract just to dine out on Valentine's Day, "Violet" and I did our celebrating last night. We went to a fondue place called The Melting Pot, which requires you to sign a contract and pay in advance for dining on Valentine's Day. (I suppose they have their reasons, but none that I can justify)

Lobster, steak, chicken, shrimp, dipped in a zesty, boiling liquid... while we made eyes at each other through the steam.

Oh, and a dozen roses.

Yeah, that's right... I got mad Valentine skills.

I received the nicest card I've ever received from my Balumtime, sweet Emily. It almost made me forget that Valentine's Day is a contrived "holiday" so that Hallmark, FTD and Zales can make their profit margins every year. It didn't quite make me forget, but it did remind me that I am the luckiest sonofabitch in the world.

Afterward, we took a ride home through the snowy streets of St. Louis. The story ends there.

At least the part I can talk about.

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I have a little game I play with myself called "Has Anyone Said It Before?" Whenever I say a phrase that seems like maybe it's the first time those words have been used to form a phrase, I check on Google to see if I can find any references to it.

For instance, recently I said "hey, I have an earful of boob." (don't ask) According to Google, that phrase appears nowhere among the billions of pages of words on the internet... therefore, I hearby claim it as my own.

This morning, I called my dog a "wound licking asshole." (he can't seem to leave the wound from his recent surgery alone, he keeps licking it and it's getting inflamed) Again, according to Google, nothing.

Two more Dave originals. I'm so proud of myself.

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Tonight is a special Valentine's Day edition of American Idol and House, MD. We Tivo'd them both last night and are having friends over to watch. Normally we do it on Tuesday nights, but we were busy filling our digestive tracts with fondue cheese... something I'm sure we'll pay for today.

So tonight it's television, cookies, and red lovey-dovey drinks for all. The feature cocktail will be Cosmopolitans, but we might throw in a Red Headed Slut for good measure. Maybe even a Bloody Shrek.

I'll report back to you.

Photo Phinish

I was sorting through photos I've collected for future blog use, and decided today is a great day to share them with you, the viewing (and obviously quite bored) public.

First one is self-explanatory:


I find it boorish and completely offensive. Which makes it a great shirt.

I used to drive one of these. It's a 1981 Ford Fiesta. It's a "roller skate" but it held an entire DJ sound system, including turntables, speakers, albums, mixer board, etc. and got 40 miles to the gallon. I can feel you judging me. STFU.

This piece is titled "ADD." The debate still continues as to ADD's status as a disease, but for those of us who have it, this says it all. It's like being in a kitchen with no cabinet doors... or watching every channel on television at once.

This photo sends a shiver down my spine. Anna Nicole Smith married this guy because she... um... loved him? I can see loving (you know, the romantic kind) someone 10 or 20 years older than you, but WTF does a 30-year-old have in common with an 90-year-old? Anna Nicole Smith is a woman who spent her life building up negative karma. Some intentional, some she couldn't help, but like static electricity, it slowly grew until the spark finally went off. Sad.

Friends, what is a photo expose without a shot of Bea Arthur? I have no real reason for posting it, other than that the image of this woman has been instrumental in my defeat of premature ejaculation issues.

Truth be told, Bea has taken a lot of grief about her appearance in her lifetime, and for no real good reason. I love her. I'm not sure why... she just seems like a good person. Someone I'd like to sit down and talk to someday. Whattaya say, Maude? Want to fly to O'Fallon for coffee?

I've gone the entire winter without making my famous chili. I'm not sure why. Five kinds of meat. Four kinds of beans (but not too many) and various other secret ingredients. One ingredient may or may not be habeneros. You are being pulled in by the strange, mystical alure of the chili, aren't you? NO CHILI FOR YOU.

This photo of a teddy bear getting a colonoscopy made me laugh. I wonder if the doctor will find pollups, or the big 'C'? (cotton)

See you Monday.

Tapioca, Burma Shave and other words that have nothing to do with this post

Evidence is mounting that loneliness and depression are direct causes of physical illness:

"Dr. Jesse Stewart ... found a correlation between depression and hardening of the arteries in his three-year study... The arteries of those who were most depressed had narrowed twice as much as those who were least depressed..."

It's kind of spooky how this reinforces the meaning of the term "hardened heart."

Whenever I'm in a restaurant, I want to approach someone who is alone and say "mind if I join you?" I don't do it for fear of being thought a predator or scam artist (isn't that sad?) but I always feel bad when I see someone eating alone. If they're eating fatty food, and doing it alone, they're DOUBLING their chance of hardened arteries. Damn!!!

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Frankie Laine died yesterday, at age 93.

When I was a little kid, my grandma would stack albums on the console "record player" and sit me on the floor in front of it with a glass of tea on rainy days. Through her albums, she gave me an early appreciation of music. One of the artists she'd play was Frankie Laine.

Grandma's albums are in my possession now, and Laine's "Torchin'" is my favorite. It's still in amazing condition, but I did a search recently and was actually able to find it on CD as part of a two-album package. It contains his versions of "A Cottage For Sale," "I'll Get Along Without You," "I Cover the Waterfront," and "These Foolish Things." If you could wear out a CD, this one would be trashed by now.

A year ago (when I ordered the album) I was surprised that he was still alive, and shocked that he was still actually PERFORMING.

I shed a tear today. RIP Frankie Laine... Old Man Jazz.

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Why do stores still have those stupid security scanners at the exits? They are designed to curb theft, but they've become as useless as car alarms. Anytime one goes off, a clerk just motions you to go on.

I've had great success stealing about 20 bags of gummy worms and a plethora of small electronics because these beeping bitches are ignored.

I might or might not have stolen a few cars too.

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Conversation a few minutes ago:

Me - "Ha! (looking at my site meter) I got a hit today from the search term "Dave's penis."
Vi - "Yeah, it was me. I was looking for it."

I don't know why, I just found that funny. Perhaps I'll have to save her a search.

The Limitations of The Limited

It's frustrating how few opportunities there are for consumers to make our opinions, experiences and disappointments known. When we have negative experiences, our first inclination is to call someone inside the company or even write a complaint letter. Neither proves to be very effective. Nothing generally gets done.

When blogging came along, to a small extent it shifted the paradigm. Now we have the ability to tell our experiences to anyone who might happen along. And, courtesy of major search engines, people who are interested enough can read and compare experiences.

So before I tell the brief story, I will include a few search terms, which will help to attract those who are interested:

The Limited's bad customer service
The Limited treats customers poorly
The Limited Store 304 manager Dina
Avoid doing business with The Limited
The Limited misrepresents itself

For Christmas, Emily received gift cards to The Limited. Along with those gift cards were "bonus" cards worth 50 dollars, which had an expiration date of February 3, 2007. We chose the St. Louis Galleria location because it offers a larger selection than other stores in the area.

The manager, Dina, was a nightmare.

First, I noticed (while Em was shopping) that Dina was a high-strung, loud, brash fast-walker. Those people are irritating. As I observed her, she came across as aloof and condescending to the customers with whom she dealt.

After about 30 minutes of shopping, Em found what she wanted and took it to the register. Upon presenting the cards, she was told that she couldn't use more than one card per purchase. She asked the cashier (who was also very rude) if they work like gift cards, and was told "no, they work just like cash."

First, if there are restrictions, they do not work like cash. Second, nowhere on the card did it say anything about the restriction the cashier referred to. It simply said that the total of the purchase had to meet or exceed the value of the card. (meaning there would be no change given) It needed to say something to the effect of "one item per card," which it did not.

After quickly becoming frustrated, the cashier summoned Dina the manager. Her contribution was, "it won't let us ring it up that way." That was it. I asked why such a restriction wouldn't be printed clearly on the card, so that people who travel a long distance in order to use them would know. She said "first, you don't have to be rude about it, and second, it's just company policy." I found her response condescending and apathetic.

That was it. Emily and I looked at each other, then turned for the exit. Em turned back, asked her name and asked how to get in touch with the company. Dina gave her a credit application with a phone number on it and made a smart comment... something like "go right ahead and call them, then." She turned her back and walked away. (quickly, again)

Emily has a credit card from The Limited, which she will now cancel. She has gift cards which she intends to use... but unless she gets some sort of consolation from the company, they have lost a good customer.

People like Dina should work in The Limited's credit collections department or cleaning the building after hours, but she certainly shouldn't be allowed access to their most valuable asset, the customer.

Babysitting 101 (aka how Dave spends his Saturday nights)

It's been exactly 17 years since I cared for a 6-month-old. Tonight, I warped back and got some similac on my shirt.

Dr. Mike and Paula's baby, Ella, came to visit tonight. It started off kind of shaky, as we predicted it would. But after a quick orientation, she was towing the line like a good 6-month-old will.

This is El and Em. En, Oh and Pee are clearly missing, but this picture goes into my "cute as shit" folder.

Here's El and Unc D. We quickly became buddies, and I was able to earn her trust as an instructor AND an uncle. I taught her:

1 - How to walk
2 - Spanish
3 - Introductory Calculus
4 - Advanced M-theory
5 - How to play with your fingers and toes
6 - Middle-east peace initiative
7 - Infamil shots without puking

My only concern is that this will make Mike and Paula feel intimidated, since they've only been able to coax farts and "Daddy" out of her.

Debunkation and other smelly stuff

I'm instituting a moratorium on dining at Chevy's Fresh Mex.

We went with friends to Chevy's last night, and again (just like last time, and the time before that, etc) our clothing, hair, skin... all smell like Chevy's. Em put on her coat this morning, and it almost made us feel sick. I'm not sure if it's poor air circulation or if they inject salsa into the air ducts, but I hate smelling like a mexican restaurant.

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It's Groundhog Day. The day that the Groundhog checks his list, finds out who's lost teeth and comes down the chimney to leave eggs under your pillow.

Or something like that.

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I would rail about how stupid the whole concept of Groundhog Day is, but I'm pretty sure the people of Punxsutawney, PA have enough disappointment and negativity in their lives just from having to live there. So I will refrain from stating how ridiculous it is to think a large rodent in Pennsylvania has some sort of meteorological prowess.

Whoops. See, I need to learn when to shut up.

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Human blood is blue until it hits oxygen.

How many times have you heard that? I can even hear the smarmy, cutting tone to the voice of the know-it-all who's saying it. It's not true.

Human blood is always red. It's darker red when it's going INTO the lungs than it is coming OUT, because highly oxygenated blood is brighter red. But when someone tries to tell you that we are like Vulcans and have blue, green or chartreuse blood, they are full of shit.

And that shit is, oddly enough, blue.

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I got nothing else today. If I think of something, you'll be the first to know.

The Amazing Race

Dr. Mike and I have both been intending to get a new 50-inch flat screen. In fact, a couple of weeks ago we were going to go to the store together so we could force each other to just get it done. Since then, it's become more of a race... an almost personal need to beat the other to the punch... and last night I totally kicked his ass.

We're moving furniture around and refurnishing a couple of rooms of the house, so it made sense to replace my old standard TV in the living room. Plus, I'm a gadget guy and occasionally (like a woman) I need to go shopping to satiate myself. I got needs.

I ended up with a Samsung 50-inch freakin' kick-ass plasma TV and a DirecTV HD DVR. It took longer to put the stupid TV stand together than it took to wire the equipment and get the speakers working. I'm slower than the special ed chess team at shit like that.

I've ordered new bedroom furniture and will now probably have space for the baby grand piano I've always wanted. Too bad my musical abilities approximate that of a deaf orangutan.

Anyway, it's good to purge... get rid of the shitty old stuff and update a little. Winter sucks, but new stuff makes it suck less.

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I was finally able to switch to the new blogger, but it seems to have temporarily (I hope) blocked some people from being able to sign in and leave a comment. Hopefully by now it's been fixed. Also, about half of my comments from the past few weeks have been re-labeled 'anonymous.'

But at least I no longer feel like a leper or Rosie O'Donnell.