links for 2006-01-31
It really stinks being a guy who hates football during Super Bowl season. People are constantly asking me what I think about the game, what team I like, what Super Bowl party I’m going to, etc. etc. And when I finally get them to shut up for long enough to explain that I don’t watch sports I normally get a look which seems to convey that suddenly I’ve become less of a person in their eyes. Specifically, less of a man.
Those conversations usually go like this:
“Didn’t you play football in High School?” No, no I didn’t. “You’re big enough, why didn’t you play?” Just didn’t want to. “Why not?” Look, you really don’t want to hear my opinions on organized sports in High School and organized sports in general. You just want me to tell the tale of some emasculating event, one which you’ve imagined for me, so you can pity me. Well, you can forget that Dr. Phil, ‘cause I don’t have to justify myself to you or anybody. And besides that you can take that football and cram it…
AHEM. Well. Someone needs to switch to decaf, huh?
So what if I’d rather read a book or make home-made bread instead of play or watch football? I like physical activities, just none which are played in a stadium or a field or any place where illegal immigrants sell ten dollar hot dogs and twelve dollar beer.
Actually, I think the food and the beer are the main reasons why some of these middle-aged fat guys like football. They use the “well, it’s just a guy thing” as a reason to sit on their bloated behinds and eat crappy food and curse and fart. Well I got news for all you Neanderthals; you don’t need football to do any of those things, much less the last two.
links for 2006-01-30
Tonight while watching TV, Leigh and I began to hear some whimpering and scratching on our door. We turned down the TV, made sure it wasn’t our three-year-old Beagle (it wasn’t; she was snoring contently under a blanket), and slowly opened our door. To our surprise two scruffy little puppies ran inside.
One is tan with a black mouth and short hair, and the other is gray and black and so fluffy that if he were able to stand still long enough you might confuse him for a child’s stuffed toy. They’re all paws and teeth and grunts. The tan one likes to nibble your fingers with his pointy little puppy teeth, and the gray one jumps and whines incessantly but falls to sleep immediately if you hold him.
The tan one has a perfect little circle burned into his back left haunch. Leigh seems to think a cigarette probably caused the burn, and unfortunately I agree. The other one has some unidentifiable wounds around its neck which have begun to scab over. They were whining and crying when they ran in but the moment I picked them up in my arms they went silent…then they fell asleep.
Just so you know we live in an apartment complex next to a very busy street situated less than a block away from University hospital, and not out in the country somewhere. Whoever dropped these guys off didn’t give a damn if they got hit by a car or swallowed up by the city.
I walked around our complex and no one seems to know where they came from, so until we find them a home I guess we have two furry little house-guests.
I sincerely wish I could meet the heartless bastard who left these puppies to die. Preferably in a dark alley way. Just them and me and my sawed-off pool cue. We’d have ourselves a nice little chat.
On Friday night we saw Robert Schimmel, a stand-up comedian, perform at the Rivercenter Comedy Club here in San Antonio:
You may have seen Schimmel’s HBO special “Unprotected,” or have heard him on XM or Sirius radio. He also makes regular appearances on Howard Stern’s radio program.
In 2000 doctors diagnosed Schimmel with Non Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. They told him that even if radiation and chemotherapy were successful he would most likely have two years of life left. They also told him that he would never have the ability to have any more children after the therapy.
They were wrong on both counts. Not only has Schimmel remained free of cancer for five years he also fathered a son during that time.
If you get a chance to go see Schimmel perform live then by all means take the opportunity, or at the very least order one of his CD’s off of Amazon (I think “Unprotect is the best). I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. Personally, I think the only reason Schimmel hasn’t become a house-hold name like other comedians is due to the fact that cancer struck immediately after his extremely well-received HBO special. He was forced to quit performing and consequently lost all of the momentum he had gained up till that point.
links for 2006-01-29
links for 2006-01-28
links for 2006-01-27
I Beseech You, Oh Muse!
Deliver unto me the passion and the ability to spin tales which capture the imagination of my audiences. Embrace me in your arms and whisper in my ear so many lines of inspiration as if we were lovers. Guide my fingers over this keyboard of plastic and with your guidance and my passion heavenly lines shall appear forthwith!
But, Oh Muse, if you ever catch me sitting at Starbucks wearing a beret or some other pretentious article of clothing while drinking overpriced coffee and bashing out lines of vulgarity on a laptop, I shall expect you to fly immediately to Apollo to inform him of my affectations. For such an offense nothing less than Apollo’s arrow piercing my rectum would suffice as punishment.
links for 2006-01-27
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