Just ‘Cuz I Love Ya Like That
Something everybody needs on Friday - The Exorcist performed by bunnies, in 30 seconds.
Top O’ The… Noon To Ya
I seem to have over-celebrated St. Patty’s Day with Irish painkillers which seem not to have worked ‘cuz my head hurts… I should drink more, right?
Do me a favor, oh readers three. Some time early next March, remind me that it’s a bad idea to repeatedly headbutt a Very Large Englishman in the name of ethnic pride, just because it’s St. Patty’s Day. Also, if y’all are feeling especially warm and fuzzy, remind me that it will seem like a good idea to do this after I’ve had 7 or 8 pints, but that headbutting in general is not a good idea in the long run.
The Very Large Englishman took it well, all things considered - apparently my technique is superior to his, as I am utterly unmarked and he is bruised and sore (the fact that The Grand Poobah headbutted him much more often than I did has nothing to do with it; I take any and all credit for any carnage in my immediate vicinity - it’s one of my superpowers). Apparently Very Large Englishmen are pussies, even the ones who, back in the days of the Cold War as young infantrymen, were in the habit of waving their penises whenever remotely possible at random East German security details patrolling the opposite side of the bridge, a bridge, any bridge.
Note: the East Germans never had the opportunity to headbutt the Very Large Englishman or things might have gone differently for him.
Yay Meaningless Blather
Blather blather blather… wait, I found something under this webpage…
According to Spacefem, I am Happily Evil. This is not an earth-shattering revelation - I’m quite comfortable with gleefully induced carnage, seek it out, actually. Ah well, cute graphic.
- Old Navy:: Fleece
- Out:: Of the closet
- Indecent:: Exposure
- UPN:: Star Trek
- Pupil:: Dilated
- Toothpaste:: Dried
- 1999:: Prince
- Passion:: Christ
- Social security:: Name change
- Cliff:: Claven
My subconscious is such the product of media advertising. Oh look, there’s Lassie!
Last but not least, here’s my well-rounded workout plan for St. Patty’s Day:
Cardio: walking from one bar to another - at least 50 minutes figuring 10 minutes travel time between bars, so just aim to hit at least 6 bars over the course of the evening
Weight Training: pints are heavy so drink lots - at least 2 pints per bar, figure about 10 swallows per pint, alternate hands
Isometrics: push yourself away from the bar to move onto the next bar - this is the toughest one, but works core back and stomach muscles, kinda like Pilates but with better hydration. Note: give yourself plenty of time to complete this one at each bar - you may have to do a few practice reps before actually walking away from that cute bartender.
Personal trainers, take note. You may use my workout plan for your clients, but know that I expect a kickback or gratuity of some sort whenever a client gets snockered (the full licensing fee is due and payable immediately upon any client becoming falling-down drunk, because then they’ll need your services even more in conjunction with their physical therapist to heal whatever they hurt when they fell down, so you’ll be making more money and so should I so there).
You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming. Carry on.
R.I.P. Bob Zangas
Citizen Smash is passing the word that a good man’s time came last week. My condolences to Bob Zangas’ family and friends - he died doing important and righteous work. Not much more to say than that, besides that I’d dropped by his blog from time to time, but never followed it closely. I think I’m feeling a bit stunned at having been privileged to see such a personal glimpse of a man living his priorities and dying for the same - although it was only a matter of time before one of *us*, a blogger with a public face and strangers wishing him well, drew the ace in Iraq or the ‘Stan. I’d like to say more about the perceived relationship between blogger and reader, about the significance of what Zangas was doing and how his death served a higher purpose, about the gift of his time and attention to the rest of the world via the Internet, but none of it seems like more than narcissistic belly-lint fluffing, so I’ll leave it at this - rest in peace, Bob Zangas. I hope you found what you were looking for on your journey. Thank you.
Latest Interplanetary Gossip!
Sources are all a’buzz that frigid ice queen Europa just might get a little hot lovin’ some time galactically soon. Money’s on the table that it’ll take more than a few D-cells for this mighty metal tool to penetrate all the way through her icy mantle to the warm ‘n juicy stuff.
TTFN, dahlings. I’m off to have tea and kissy-poo crumpets with a certain Earthling who puts stars in my eyes…
The Roof, The Roof, The Roof Is On Fire…
Zombyboy and Tacitus have both made some excellent points by way of mild- and not-so-mild-mannered rants about Spain’s prime minister-elect, Zapato, and his intended withdrawal of Spanish forces from Iraq.
I can only echo that standing fast in the fire obviously isn’t in Zapato’s mind, nor is any real acknowledgement of Spain’s cultural and remembered significance for modern Arabs as a glorious and shining light of Islamic civilization during the reign of the Umayyad caliphs who had fled there to escape from Abbasid rule in Damascus in 711 CE, and remained there until King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella reconquered all of Andalusia for their Christian empire in 1492 CE (when they also kicked the Jews out of Spain).
Fact is, radical Islam lives in an even more romanticized and twisted version of the past than the rest of the Islamic world, and can never forget that Islam once ruled in Europe. Many Arabs have never forgiven Spain for the loss of Al-Andalus and consider losing such a jewel in the crown of Islam a burning insult gone unpunished. Spain was a logical target by radical Islamist standards for that alone by way of payback for seeming historical wrongs; being our ally didn’t bring this on them, being Spanish did. Maybe Zapatero thinks that if he runs back inside and hides under the bed, the bad men he told to stay off the lawn won’t burn down his house.
Hookin’ Up, Movin’ Out
Sgt. Hook is going OCONUS to the ‘Stan. I’ve known it was coming right about now, but suddenly it’s here and happening, and holy shit…
There are lots of quotes I could mangle and misquote right about now, but I won’t waste time with the corn or cheese - fact is, I’m finding myself teared up with worry for a soldier I’ve never met and the men he’s taking into a dark place. Best wishes, gratitude, and godspeed - may they all shine light into that darkness and return home safe and sound. Thanks simply aren’t enough, not to them, nor to their families who can only wait.
Burn Baby Burn
Apparently DaGoddess drives my blogging of late, ‘cuz thanks to her sinuses, I know what sorts of wings I wear:
You are a PHOENIX in your soul and your wings make a statement. Huge and born of flame, they burn with light and power and rebirth. Ashes fall from your wingtips. You are an amazingly strong person. You survive, even flourish in adversity and hardship. A firm believer in the phrase, ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger,’ you rarely fear failure. You know that any mistake you make will teach you more about yourself and allow you to ‘rise from the ashes’ as a still greater being. Because of this, you rarely make the same mistake twice, and are not among the most forgiving people. You’re extremely powerful and wise, and are capable of fierce pride, passion, and anger. Perhaps you’re this way because you were forced to survive a rough childhood. Or maybe you just have a strong grasp on reality and know that life is tough and the world is cruel, and it takes strength and independence to survive it. And independence is your strongest point - you may care for others, and even depend on them…but when it comes right down to it, the only one you need is yourself. Thus you trust your own intuition, and rely on a mind almost as brilliant as the fire of your wings to guide you.You are eternal and because you have a strong sense of who and what you are, no one can control your heart or mind, or even really influence your thinking. A symbol of rebirth and renewal, you tend to be a very spiritual person with a serious mind - never acting immature and harboring a superior disgust of those who do. Likewise, humanity’s stupidity and tendency to want others to solve their problems for them frustrates you endlessly. Though you can be stubborn, outspoken, and haughty, I admire you greatly.
*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
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Of course, all the flattering bits are kinda accurate, from what others tell me about myself, except for the never acting immature part… for some reason, purposely blowing chocolate milk out one’s nose to escape a blind date gone horribly wrong is considered immature. What. Evar.
Monday Might Be Okay
My undying gratitude to DaGoddess for this little bit o’typographic synesthesia. Love ya, babe.
Help, My Boobies Can’t Do It Alone
A subject near and dear to everybody’s heart: boobies. And not just any boobies, but the boobies of our mothers, sisters, wives, daughters, selves…
Okay, what the hell am I going on about? I’ve just only this morning signed up to do the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer here in Los Angeles on Sept 11-12, 2004. Dear readers-three, I’d love to have your support, moral or otherwise, as well as your money, your time, your weapons… wait, nevermind about the time, unless you want to make a team effort out of it and schlep along with me. The more, the merrier, all to save the wild boobies. Email me if you can be in Los Angeles and want to join forces, or make a donation at my personal Avon Walk site page.
If anybody’s interested in forming a team, lemme know - if there are more than three of us, we’re good to go. I’ll be making up a coupl’a graphics to stick on websites if anybody wants one, and maybe doing a t-shirt thingy with proceeds donated to boobies, and hey, there’ll be boobies!!
Woo, boobies!!!
Update: I’ve set up a PayPal account for donations and put a button up on the right, should anybody not want to donate at the Avon Walk for Life website for any reason. Rest assured, all donations will go directly to the Avon Walk the second I receive them… all chocolate and coffee purchases will come out of my own pocket ;->