I blame the Laphroaig...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laphroaig_Single_Malt

"You danced, and now you have to pay the piper..."

I've always liked that quote. My old co-worker when I was at the Bullseye said that to me when I stumbled into work one Saturday after partying the night before with the Porkchops. (This would also be the day I snuck up to the 11th executive floor, snuck into an empty office, and fell asleep under a conference table for an hour. Whoops)

Sick. Sick as a dog. Woke myself up this morning super early in a wracking, dry-coughing fit. I felt my back get all funky and now it's awful today. Runny nose. Blurry vision. Not fun. I hate coughs that don't produce. Gross, I know. But it's giving me a sore throat. Ow.

X-Mas was great. I wish I had time to respond to everyone that sent love and well wishes. It was really awesome to see my frassbook page filled with all that goodness. The day of X-Mas is probably what started me on this road to ruin...

So I hopped over to Broiler's who was also awake waaaay early and was able to get RSVP's gift. (7am) Then home to a frassy 'Bean who was chatty. Finally succumbing to exhaustion, I claw my way into bed only to have a panicky mom call 10 minutes later to have me hustle over and help clean. I go over, caffeine up, and get to work. The rest of the fam damily shows (RSVP and brood) we have a great day of gifts, food, love, etc. Finally it's 3:30 and I'm in need of boogying so I can hook up w/Moda, pre-hotel. I am in desperate need of a nap.

We exchange gifts while swilling fine pink champers and I beg for 20 minutes. It's for naught, and we head off to BANK for dinner. Another cocktail consumed w/dinner, we head back to the hotel. Now, we're both pooped. The nap again is for naught, since cell phones start going off at regular intervals inquiring as to our status. Folks show up, and BW-J pops in with his annual Scotch gift. (Instead of the usual McAllens, it's the above mentioned whiskey) So, we get into that filthy, filthy stuff and commence "cheers" etc.

Now it's off to the Market.

Now I don't pay for a single drink. Of which, I believe, I had several. We danced. We sang. I shrieked myself hoarse. I. Iiiiii was that guy. You know him. A little drunk. A little louder than necessary. And doing a shuffling little jig when Elvis is sung.

Back to the hotel. Where I proceed to nurse another filth and water. And try and get folks out of their clothing. And lifting up my shirt repeatedly as an example. It was 4am before we got everyone out of there. Then finally pass the frack out. And drag our carcasses out at noon so we could meet RSVP for brunch at Keys. At this point, the night before manifested itself into a hum-dinger of a headache. We napped for 3 hours before calling it quits, watching "WALL-E" and going to bed.

Caturday night was game night at Panda-Bot's where it was mulled wine and wine-wine. Home at 1:30.

I'm just. Yeah. I think I'm getting to old for this s#it.

Oof.

Oh yeah

I made it. That's right.

Except the only reason I was up at that ungodly hour wasn't due to (A) Nostalgia (I'm a little past that. I remember doing this when I was an early teen out of some sense of ritual or nostalgia. I'd even play happy birthday on my cheap Casio or something) Orrrrr (B) Actual childbirth. Something my poor mother had to endure all these years ago.


Nope. I had to go to the bathroom. Then needed to check the laundry tub and the floor was cold. And realized I hadn't re-set the coffee maker alarm so my house smells of organic breakfast blend.

And my internal (infernal) alarm sez "WORK TIME, BABY P!!! IT'S TIME TO MAKE THE DONUTS!!!"


Grrrr...First post as a 34 (whoops) year old and here I go making an awful Dunkin Donuts reference.


Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy (late...late) Diwali, Kwanzaa...Festiv...(F#ck it. It's made up. "Happy Porkledeedorkle day, all!") Be well, safe, and if you are an orphan in the Twin Cities metro I imagine I'll see you out and about tonight at one of the...3 or 4 open bars.

Your friendly neighborhood X-mas babe







Heavy emphasis on the babe. It's my birthday. The economy sucks. Thick and heavy compliments are free.

Another fine year you've gotten us into...

I'm home. In the TV room. 2 rolls of the roomies wrapping paper in front of me and a few assorted bibs and bobs strewn about. And celebrating the evening before my (harumphyMcharumpherson) birthday.

I ran out into the world tonight to grab something as a favor to my mom which wasn't as heinous as I imagined it could have been if you were to believe the news. (In and out of stores within scant minutes) And now I watch as the twilight hours of the last year celebrating my b'day tick off.

I figured since I was born on X-Mas, this last magic birthday meant I would be dragged off by Roman Centurions around Easter to be asked a bevvie of questions regarding my self-proclaimed awesomeness. It was not to be, however, and it just meant a very minor case of buyers remorse and fond memories of a tax-rebate funded cruise with my beeb. Could have been worth, savior-wanters.

So this year, I have asked family to avoid gifting me in lieu of either donations to charity, gifts for my growing niece and nephew, well wishes, and a general hope that we as a society/country can start to do the slow crawl to more prosperous times. This is dubious since my mom was asking for an X-Mas list up to the 22nd. Sigh...

I'll try, again, to rise for my "I was born at 5:54 am" post saying I was there I ushered in a new year for myself.

Instead, I'll probably be snoozing off the night with Santa overhead.

Happy Holidays, Frassers. Be safe, well, and loved this upcoming New Year.

I hate wrapping gifts. My cuts look like a 2nd grader attempting to do it with their non-dominant hand and I could probably stand to single-handedly finance the gift-bag industry.

Le whew

Well. The dreaded big team meeting was a bit of a let down. It boiled down to "We don't know anything either. Please stop spreading rumors if you can. We aren't going anywhere any time soon".

So whew, and huh? We ended up talking about the weather. How very...Minnesotan...of us.

I'm growing so violently sick of the terms "Market volatility" and "Unstable Financial Conditions" that I'm pretty sure that I'm getting an ulcer. And poor NMMC. Laid off 80 nurses? Right. Before. Christmas? (My co-worker's wife was one of them) Ugh. Just. Ugh. Thanks, hospital of my birth.


Okay. Done with that.

Last night the SO and I attempted to watch a racy flick from her queue. Seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. Until the roommate came home about 5-10 minutes into it. It was pretty uncanny how often he found an opportunity to bounce upstairs with some form of current events or another. And to see which scene we were on. Awwwwwkward. (It was awful, btw. If you want to watch "Lie with Her", don't. Get pR0n instead. It was pretentious smut. The worst kind.)

Below zero temperatures belong in mid-February and need to last 3-4 days. Nothing "Wonderful" about this "Wonderland". It's a wonder I don't pack it in and head South. Frass...



ps: Yes, Moll. Anything by Dan Folgerburp is crap, IMNSHO. If James Brown is the "Godfather of Soul"? then he is...like...the "Great Uncle of Emo-Rock".

What I want, need...this Christmas

Need/Want-ish:

Out of debt (Never happen this X-mas)
AAA membership. Mine lapsed this year, and it is the SINGLE greatest investment an older car owner can have. I was towed 4 x's in 2007.

Help staining/attaching the molding

Either a new laundry tub, or to replace the U joint that's clogged and won't get unclogged.

Gift Card to take Moda out on a proper date to a proper place. Or subsequent cash.

DVD- "Iron Man", "The Dark Knight", "The Incredible Hulk", "Boogie Nights", or flicks I've lent out and subsequently lost. (Pick one)

Dumb liquor- Cooking stuff, mostly. But Bailey's, Whiskey, Brandy, etc. Would be nice. I cook at home a lot, now.

Cooking classes to share

Dance lessons (Like, I don't know, salsa or something. "Picosa" has them for free, but dinner there seems smarter

Dry cleaning done. I have many shirts that could use it.

Big boy underpants. Couple of packs. I'm a large Marge these days.



FRIVILOUS, kinda necessary, but can't afford right now-
New bathroom. Tile. Tub. Toilet. Sink. I hate my bathroom.
New garage. You know? One that didn't seem "practical" in 1884?
New car. Hell, New USED car. At least older than the "oughts".

Ridiculous, can live without, but want. Just want.-

Trip to Paris with a Ryan Air puddle jump to Rome. I have a huge history jones that will not be denied. And wikipedia kills me with information.

Expando cable. This is more for my roommate than I. He watches TV (when he's home) like it is his job. And I know that he sneaks off to his cousins to watch IFC. Know it.

Big frassy HD TV. 40 inches or more. I love watching movies more than air. And with the HD craze coming, I wouldn't mind seeing the "Dark Knight" Chinese building jump with all the details revealed intimately.

One, just one problem with Batman

I love those two recent Bat-mama movies. I do. I re-watched "Begins" and can't wait to own "TDK". And as I talked to a co-worker about them, he had this to say:

"I hate how B-Man talks. It's just, stupid"

I responded, of course, with the wonderful line "It's not who I ammmmmm..." with the postured over-inflection that we found in "BB". And he's right. And then I thought, hm. He's got it all wrong. He's frassin' about stealth and secretiveness when he's doing his vigilante gig in what amounts to a fricking mini...tank. Not easy to tool into Gotham and park in the "90 minutes or fewer" street. What. Will you throw a cover over it?

Here's a better idea buddy. Since you are mega-rich and fight the muggers hand to hand anyway. (And, you know. While the tank is cool. And makes an eventually SPOILER cooler motorcycle) it is faaaaar from practical. Think of the environment.

Try a plug in. Hybrid. Or better still, stop at the local dealer (GO LOCAL) and grab a 97 Geo Metro. GREAT gas mileage. And? No one will give two s#its about a dude in a bat costume hanging out and listening to MPR for the latest.


I'm just sayin...

It is not. A con-sarn...GROCERY STORE!!!

I approach the local green of Wal when the parking lot is full, only because that means a line. Now, a line at the super-chain grocery store is part and parcel of shopping. You sort of know the risks. But at a drug store, you figure there are folks in the back by the pharmacists to buy said drugs. And a few to pick up...oh, I don't know. A card.


So when you wait behind someone at the Green, or CVS, or whereever...with a shopping cart...that is FULL of crap (Milk, chips, nuts, beef jerky, mittens, and whatever the newest cologne Burger King sells)

Well. I get ticked. I have Carmex. A stick of gum. And a diet Coke. Maybe shaving cream. And the poor cashier is NOT having it.

This has happened way too much lately. For that much, GO to the chain mega gro-gro stores. Or the wholesalers. With the amount of crap you buy, you'll save yourself a fortune.

Grumble Grumble Frass...

Dear Local Gym...

I am glad, that you got my SO into your free fitness classes.

As a practitioner who's family has been involved in the arts which are martial for many a year, I actually thinks that it is cool that "cardio-kick" has enamored her of late.

However, when I roll over in the middle of the night with a bout of insomnia, go to smooch her cheek, and she cold cocks me with a hook at 3:30 in the morning on my jaw...Well...

I beg of you to not get her too warrior-ed up.


With much gratitude,

Me

I think...we can do...away...with X-Mas

Let's start today, friends. KOOL 108 aside, I think that there are a lot. A LOT of X-Mas songs that need to have found their way to the Dead Pool. Seriously. And not to knock at secular tunes that have been around for a minute. I mean really. Really. Let's look at songs "created" for the season to fill playlists and make ears bleed starting post-Thanksgiving up to and after December 25th. F#ck. After Hallowe'en, if you're being realistic.

I'll start:

"It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year"- No it isn't. F#ck you. Today? It's cold. Painfully so. And the most wonderful day, for some of us, was the day we drank too much wine and watched TV on November 4th. "There'll be much mistletoe-ing" isn't even a sentence. It's douchey. And stop trying to created a beloved X-Mas song by being so damn commercial.

"Santa Claus is Coming to Town" (More specifically, by Frankie)- I love the guy. I do. He is unabashed in his Bacchanalian debauchery. His buddies. His crooning. But I don't feel like getting crooned to by a guy who is the face of debauch about "Naughty and Nice" when you know sure as f#ck he is on a 11 day bender at the Flamingo with 16 different show girls from the 60's version of "Follies Bergere". Moving on.

"Frosty the Snowman"- We hate snow. Even snow days suck. And even we, we hardy MN'ans get one. We get enough precipitation in October to cause the state of NC to declare a national emergency (true) that we don't need to know about anthropomorphic snow-douches in foppish top hats gaily striding about with their propaganda that global warming doesn't exist. And that's all you are, Mr. Frosty. Propaganda. And the name of a milkshake at Wendy's.

"Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer"- Who. Gives. A. S#it... It's about the fat one, let's be real. If we cared about the workhorses, we should have ALL known the name of the Budweiser Clydesdales by now. Oh, you don't? EPIC FAIL! "You know Stoli, and Patron, and Mount Gay, and Got Blitzed..."

"Simply, Having, A wonderful..."Oh frack I can't finish. - Sir Paul? This Moog synth atrocity brings me so far back to evil that I want to punch the dash board. Boo. Boo, Boo, Boo, Boo. I cry. I thought you'd leave repetitive douchey tunes to George. ("I've got my mind set. On...Douche")

Any. Every. Country version of a X-mas song made. Sorry. They tend to sound alcoholic even if it is about the three Wise men. Same for pop stars doing covers. I hate to say it, but I like the warbly scratchy versions of the standards.

Grrrrrr.

Play more BNL and Sarah. "Bring a Torch". The Hallelujah Chorus. I'm no Scrooge, but crap all. It's my birthday. Easy present. Let's start to dissect the remnants.

I reserve the right...

To complain. This...weather? Hm, yes. Is bananas. Yeah, I live in an older house. Yeah, I take the prerequisite measures to stop draftiness. (Plastic on the windows, weather stripping, etc.) But I feel the cold like it was my job. Just looking outside? Makes me cold.


Couple that with the fact that my heater AND rear defrost in my my car makes me frassy...well I'm trolling jobs in the South. No joke. There is no WAY that in 10 years it has fallen below zero in December. What happened to this all happening in February? Sucktastic. Dying.

In other news, the loaner they gave me is Piiiiimptastic. An 88 Old's with a red interior that makes you feel like you're in the waiting room of a house of ill repute. I lurve it.

Saturday Close Captioning reveals Cartoon Deification

Sooooooo....



I'm at the gym.


Trying to get my workout out of the way to make way for...I don't know. Saturday stuff.

I don't own an IPOD or Shuffle or Shuffle off to Buffalo pod. I read the stupid Close Captioning. Deal.

Since we're both up at the crack of (10) and she's off cardio-kicking imaginary opponents and saying "Woo"! with the rest of the class.

I've finished my lifty mc-liftersons and have retired to the treadmill. Now, to para-phrase Mr. Leary I kinda do feel like a hamster in a wheel on the treadmill. I haven't owned a walkman (LUDDITE ALERT!) in ages. The last thing I had resembling sound producing head-gear was this wireless headset that looked like you were answering phones in the 50's and was the size of Princess Leia's hair in "Star Wars". Not fun. And it gave me a headache AND it'd bump channels every few blocks.

So I run silent. Adrift in my imagination. A bad place to be. Except I've discovered a few things about my club...

If I book it out of work, when I do. And if traffic is conducive- I can make it to stretch out, work my tummy, and watch "Jeopardy" on the treadmill villa Close Captioning. A fine pursuit, to be sure. You don't need sound. You watch the questions pop up, mutter the answer to yourself and either (A) curse inwardly if you get it wrong...stupid MENSA teen's...or (B) Try and time your prrt's in the vain hope that there is no one on the treadmill behind you.

What?

So on a Saturday A.M. I figure 'toons are all I need to let the world go and watch mindless 2-D animation whilst I program my routine for the next 3.2 miles. I've timed it PERFECTLY with NBC's newest venture: 3-2-1 PENGUIN!!! (It's like "3-2-1 Contact", right? Show's y'all my frame of reference)

The NEXT thing I know, is they're quoting the bible ("Remember what the good book says!") and the normal non-anthropomorphic character's are spouting ("Get ready for church, dear" and "Did you want to say our prayer's together?")

What?

I'm dubious I would've caught it if I hadn't been reading the text via close captioning. I thought "Where is the exploding coyote being pushed off the cliff by that rascally road-runner?" The doofy lisping hunter with the wily wabbit? Spider-man, and his AMAZING friends" Which is to say I have some amazing friends too, and can empathize with the wall-crawler.)

Then V-Tales came on. And besides being the bastard step-child of El Muppet-ino (Seriously. How MANY drugs must one be on to have vegetables give parables, wear clothes, and perform normal human tasks sans hands. And really, turn on the CC option on your TV and read the intro-song. It's drugs, people. People using drugs and eating vegan. Check it out.)


Although I felt warmly toward the asparagus with the yellow cardigan. I thought to myself: I wonder if his pee smells funny, or if the novelty is lost. Ponder, folks.


Anyway, I miss my blow'em up cartoons in lieu of this stupid Bob Ross inspired "happy" crappy. I don't wanna be a grumpy old man, but a world with grape soda caving in the walls ( "3-2-1 Penguins" distinguishing plot point) is nothing compared to "Thundarr", "Plastic Man", Super Friends", "Godzilla and Gadzookey" or cripes...even "Gummi Bears".


Ish.

Well, a fine mess

I'm awake.



I dreamt that there was a bee in my apartment I was sharing with Morgan Fairchild and when it lit on the floor I threw my body atop of it to squash it with my head. I heard it buzzing in my ear and roused myself awake with the feeling that it'd sting my inner ear. So here I am. 3 am-ish.

The moon I see is fat in the sky. Orion is shoulder-to-shoulder with it. And it is cold.

Not a very triumphant return to the blogging world, but here I am. I work in the fidouchery world, so it's been a really scary time to want bread on your table. My day to day blogs have had to be tabled in lieu of simple web surfing since my bosses (Or managers. Direct reports. Whatever) have been hovering to make sure I'm "productive". Three "bosses" in twelve months. Re-dick. All of whom have said they'd be there for the long haul. I should've known. At least they're still here. There've been many, MANY lay-offs (sorry. "Re-structures") in the last few months and it's provided a fellowship of fear. Not fun to be working.

So...

I've been tasked with taking forced time off ("Floating" holidays. MN branches of our office don't take normal sanctioned national holidays and we're given three "floaters" to take that aren't considered "time off") So Thursday marks "National Me Day 3"*. (Last Thursday being the official start of Me Day) I hope to blog some more and more over, write some more.

That's right. I don't hope to quit my day job, but I've recently been harboring a secret wish to write for a living. Creatively. Go fig. It started with a wish to pen my dad's memoirs about working for the county- which I've been nagging him for years to do- and made me think it would maybe make some great non-fiction ala' Sanderson. We'll see. It's some fascinating business, what 36 years policing our county will provide. I've been also experimenting with home cooking which falls in line with our troubled economic times (e.g. No restaurant reviews in the future)

All told, we're holding steady. And I hope to post more topical s#it as the days progress towards my birthday.

Oh yeah. The *? So I'll be posting my wish list later (In the vain hopes that the government wants to do a Baby P Bail Out some day) but for my birthday? Think of something nice for/about yourself. Just one. Real quick like. Or about me. (I'm a selfish Sammy) And either post it, or think it. It's no big whoop.

Hope to frass at you some more on my down time.



ps: I have a call back tonight. Think of me, frassers.