Well I Wouldn't Say I've Been Missing it, Bob.

The past week, coming on the heels of a whirlwind vacation/wedding planning extravangapalooza, has been a blessing in that my average work day has basically consisted of the following rough outline:

8:00am, eat breakfast while reading my comicbook websites (newsarama, IGN, comicbookresources, etc). They are like my soap-operas. I needs my stories!

8:30am, as the store opens, i try to improve my sluggishly underperforming fantasy baseball squadrons. wtf CC sabathia!?

9:45am, visit and loiter in the Onion's AV Club.

10:30am, check my work email, yep, still empty of everything not containing the improper phrases "take her to seven heavens," "Make God in the bedroom," "I'm bored/tired and am using my friend's email address and would like to show you some pictures." All spam dead giveaways, except for that one time a professor assigned that classic University of Chicago Press work: Making God in the Bedroom: From Aquinas to Pope Benedict the 16th, or, How Religion Took Her to Seven Heavens While America Was Bored/Tired and Using His Friend's Email Account, by Arthur Bangability, 2005

11:15am, refresh "Oline In the City" for the 1,113th time.

11:30am, leave to 'go buy lunch' even though i clearly brought one with me that morning. Hey, it's like paradise on earth outside, well, minus the hurricane winds and schlumping U of C coeds moaning under overstuffed backpacks like 18th century child mining-slaves.

12:00pm, take lunch, play online card-game Hearts. lose horribly. Damn you BitchQueen of Spades!

1:15pm, ardently defend the goddam Cleveland Indians on the ESPN MLB Forum from upstart Royals fans claiming that with 150 games left, the season is over. (but on a more serious note, wake the fuck up, Tribe! This Fall was supposed to be a delirious trifecta of getting to marry the only woman silly enough to say yes to me, the election of a Democratic President (I just don't care anymore Dems, just pick a candidate already!) and the obligate Tribe World Series Championship (over, let's say... the Phillies).

2:00pm, stare vacantly into space.

2:30pm, yep, still staring.

2:55pm, read a strip or two of my favorite web-comic, 8bit theater by brian clevinger. so funny.

3:13pm, decide that I don't deserve to bleed any more money from my employers, leave early, fill up the gas-tank for $85.30 and reconsider leaving early ever again and working for 60 hours a week instead, just to fuel the Jeep.

-----
what's that? it's only 10:40am still? hmm... wonder what Oline's doing over on her blog...

Showing a Little Too Much Thigh

I have this pair of jeans, in a long line of jeans I've completely worn out, that has a sizable hole on the right side just under the pocket. The hole was formed by my carrying a large set of keys in that pocket which first tore a hole in the outer part of the pants which kept bumping in to various things, shelves, my jacket, my bag, etc and then ripped through the pocket itself causing the carrying capacity of that side to be decreased significantly.

So now, not only do i look lopsided with one pocket overstuffed with cellphonewalletchangekeyspenetc and the other empty but on the empty side there is the aforementioned hole that at times exposes my pale skin. It brings to mind a legendary photograph taken by the one and only Oline where I famously wore shorts perhaps a few inches too short. Incidentally when perusing the results of my google search for an image to affix to this post and using the request 'short-shorts' I maybe have gone blind or mad--perhaps both.

Countdown to Christmas #9 (December 14th)

Back in the Olden Days when the Earth was new and there were no such things as animals or ducks and ghosts and demons populated the dark places of the world I wrote a wee little review of a peculiar and wonderful album released last Spring. The review was always supposed to grace the digital pages of Jack Black's Body. Sadly, that never came to pass. It was entirely my fault, and I take sole responsibility for JBB's subsequent slide into hibernation (pray, tell me it isn't a coma or death!).

The band's name is Menomena and their album Friend or Foe was fucking terrific. My sprawling (and somewhat terrible review, sorry editor ladies) won't be repeated here for it was promised to JBB and shall stay his/hers/theirs forever more. Just know that it kept me nice and happy during those bleak Spring months that have more to do with February than they do with May. And oh, the Oline. I just went back through my email box and searched for the key word Menomena only to find countless pleading entreaties to just submit the damn review, and it breaks my heart. Forgiveness?

Eee Gads! (He's got enough style to start 3 fads?)

Look at the time. I just gots to get more consistent with yee olde blog. Maybe a mini-countdown will keep me focused, um, focused-er.

On that note, the Countdown to my X-mas Break in Buffalo which begins in approximately 3 weeks. It will be like some sort of on-line advent calendar without chocolate or the neat-o little doors that open up to give you an aphorism or migraine.

Since I am technologically inept, or perhaps cheap (maybe the following is a pay only feature?) I never figured out how to list links on the side of this page, like so many of my colleagues do. But if i ever did figure it out (don't hesitate to help me out in the comments section, yo) I would list the Oline as my top link. I covet her month ending quote-a-ramas, and if my memory were not completely for shit, I'd totally crib her style. As it stands, my memory is actually worth a great deal less than feces, the Croft wanted to discuss the Sound and the Fury yesterday and she was bringing up all these important plot points of which i had no recollection whatsoever. It was as if i never read the damn book at all, or read something completely different. And it wasn't that long ago that I read it either. Must be all the intravenous drug use I've been doing lately.

At any rate, give the Oline a looksy. And I'll see you tomorrow, or failing that, Monday (tomorrow is the weekend after all).