Friday, June 30, 2006

Getting Head


How’s it going, old timer? I’ve got a wicked headache right now that’s preventing me from concentrating on just about anything. Do you watch Jeopardy? Do you know who Ken Jennings is? He’s selling a big foam likeness of his head on eBay. I just bid on it! If I win, and I doubt that I will, this will be the best $10.00 that I ever did spend.

Take care of yourself and stay classy.


Update: I wrote this yesterday and then forgot that the picture of Ken’s giant head embedded in the letter wouldn’t show up on the blog without some trickeration on my part. So, follow the link to see it.

Also, I was outbid in a matter of minutes. Currently, the highest bid is $207.50. Too rich for my blood. Proceeds go to Cancer. I didn’t know that Cancer was broke but it has apparently fallen on hard times. Wait, that’s the American Cancer Society. My fault.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Layla and the Relationship that Never Was (Update)


What’s up buddy? I thought that I’d invite you over to if you’d like to talk to me or any of my neighbors live and in person (sort of). We’re having a good time. Please note my tribute to Patrick Swayze and the awesome icon that represents the best movie that never got made.

And since I said that I’d have something original for you, I thought that I’d share this tidbit. My brother’s dating a girl named Layla and I thought about it for quite a while, I decided that I could never, ever date anyone named Layla. Technically, I’m barred from dating anyone indefinitely but I’m still trying to find a loophole for that rule. But I realized almost as soon as John told me her name, that if I were dating a Layla, not necessarily his, but any Layla, it would be impossible for me to go day without working Eric Clapton’s ballad into the conversation. I don’t think that it could be done. And this poses a multitude of problems but for the sake of brevity, I’ll only mention two.

First, she has no doubt heard this song a thousand times from people that thought they were being original or funny. She, I imagined, detests that song with every fiber of her being. I asked John and this is a point of fact. Layla hates Layla. Having said that, any references to that song would be out. So, if we were sitting at home one night and I found myself entertaining the idea of a snack, I couldn’t just turn to her and say (sung to the tune of Layla, of course), “Layla, would you make a sammich please. Layla, I want an extra slice of cheese, Layla”. I’m guessing that I wouldn’t get that sandwich that I so desperately needed. This poses a problem for both her and I. She’s pissed because I asked her a sandwich using the Layla song that she hates and I’m pissy because not only am I hungry, but I have to make the sandwich myself. I’ve given this a lot of thought, more probably than you could imagine, but I won’t do anymore situational examples. They get tiring.

Second, conversations between Layla and I, would be slow to evolve and perhaps even a little stilted. I believe that if she’d ask me a question, I would have to take a minute to see if there was any way I could work in the Layla song to my response. Then there’s a whole rhyming issue that I’d have to work out. What rhymes with chores? Bores, floors, doors, whores…You get the idea. Conversations would move like honey. All in all, it’d be a burden on us both.

So, John, I will not be stealing your lady. The possibility of our relationship is fraught with perils, aplenty. Rest easy, brother.

Hope that you’re doing well. See you on the Yak.


Update: Just had an interesting conversation with my brother. I told him that I had written about Layla on the blog and he naturally inquired about the subject matter. I explained to him the gist of my letter and he said, “You want to have kids soon, right?” I said that, in fact, I did. He then told me that it would be pretty hard to care for my kids when I’m face-up in a casket.

There goes your Christmas present, assface.

Warning to all: Do not try to date, woo, court, or flirt with Layla or you may find that you meet with an unfortunate accident. Or, perhaps she needs a tattoo on her backside that states, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”. I get the message, brother.


Tuesday, June 27, 2006

The Funny


I haven't the time nor the energy to be witty or clever or amusing at the moment. I have instead elected to go to bed a bit early. However, I wanted to let you know about this guy who's blog I stumbled upon today via TV Squad. In particular, read this piece about Follow-Up Calls. It might begin slow, but the denouement is phenomenal.

Beware afraid. Be very afraid...for Rapebear lurks in darkness waiting for his next victim-or the bus-or his next victim which is a bus. Just read it.

I'll be back with some original stuff in a day or two.


Monday, June 26, 2006



How goes it with you? Good weekend, I presume? Just wanted to tell you about my very first pedicure. A little too intimate, if you ask me. I mean, this Asian lady made love to my feet and calves with her soft, but firm, hands. It was pleasurable, for sure, but at the same time, difficult to enjoy. The problem, I think, was that I wasn’t sure exactly how much I was supposed to enjoy it. I had to distract myself a little so as not to enjoy it too much because I could definitely felt that I was on the verge of enjoying immensely.

Another thing that really prevented me from enjoying it as much as I should have was that this was not a typical business transaction, or at least, not one that I’m used to anyway. It’s rare that I receive a massage from the barista at Starbucks, although that might be nice, depending on who serves you. All in all, the experience was a bit askew.

Anna was pleased that I accompanied her and she didn’t have any problems relaxing and enjoying the pampering. The Asian lady and her daughter were tickled that I decided to participate in the pedicure though. They giggled and asked me if I was certain that I wanted to get them painted. Are you wondering what color I painted them? Black, of course. It goes perfect with my soul.

Plus, I read in Glamor (while waiting for my toes to dry), that black is the new white.

More soon,


Sunday, June 25, 2006



I know that it's been awhile. What can I say in my defense. Not jack. I'm just lazy, plain and simple. I did just find something that might amuse you. Over at Boing Boing, they pointed me over to You Tube to watch a clip from the Maury Povich show. Pretty funny but it's got to be fake. How can anyone be afraid of pickles? Clowns, I get. Heck, I'm afraid of bugs, snakes, heights, public speaking, balloons popping, anything with the capacity to fly-the list goes on. Pickles? Outrageous!

I feel better about myself after having seen that.

I hope that you are well. Much more about my weekend is forthcoming.