Sunday, April 08, 2007

40 Days and 40 Nights

That seems about how long it's been since I've updated. It's not that I don't want to -- and I even have these flashes of "that's pretty funny, I should put it on my blog for the 3 people that read it," but then I forget or the "hassle" of logging on (all 1 minute) seems insurmountable. Blame it on Tyra Banks -- she's the one that puts on America's Next Top Model. And when it comes down to it? Writing about my life vs. watching rappers throw aneorexics in a pool? The aneorexics are going to win every time.

Things that are going on:
* One week until Cancun! I'm going to have to earn this vacation with another hell week at work, but good lord, I will be in Cancun, hopefully doing shots, entering a wet t-shirt contest and riding a mechanical bull in one week. Not really, but that would be awesome.

* BB and Phil came up to Massachusetts last weekend and we had fun trudging around the city, looking at old photos and eating lots of food. I hadn't seen them in over a year so it was good to catch up. Plus, we got to tell YG the "heh -- remember when your dad slipped me the beef" story. Lesson learned -- if it tastes better than chicken, it's veal. And second lesson -- cutting out beef, but continuing to chow down on salted pork does not make a vegetarian.
I'm hoping that we can get up to Syracuse some time soon and all hang out in spandex.

* Baseball season started! Carl Pavano lives. And sucks.
A work friend has extra tickets for a Yankees/Red Sox game at Fenway and offered them to me, but we'll be in Cancun. Muy mal.

* Being bummed that I'm missing all sorts of good shows because I'm old and not all hip and cool and camping out overnight for tickets. All of the following were on my "I absolutely have to see these guys live" list, and by the time I got my shit together, were sold out: Spoon, Arcade Fire, Modest Mouse, and Cowboy Junkies. Also sold out -- the Toasters. The Toasters! How frickin' cool would that have been? I saw the Toasters in London in 1996. I'm bummed.
However, I am going to see Morrissey this summer with cool work colleague, the Doctor. Yes, I'm a little old for that. No, I really don't care. I plan to wear all black, smoke clove cigarettes and write in my journal about my pain, my deep and heartfelt pain. The anguish.

* Of the things I was going to blog about, but keep forgetting due to Tyra: open letters.
Like an open letter to my ass.
Dear ass, I like it that you're loud and boisterous just like me. But please, keep it down at work. Really. Thanks. -jm
Dear makers of low-rise tights, Was this really something that we, as a society, needed? Seriously? Did someone come up to you and say "hey, I really need something that's going to hang over my belly roll, threaten to fall down all the time and force to me to be rootin' around in my ass every five minutes"? There must have been asking for them. Because only a dick would invent this torture device otherwise. -- jm
Yeah, they sound much funnier in my head.

* Easter. Woo hoo! Cadbury cream eggs. Beer! Ham! Mmmm.....pork and Jesus' return. Good stuff.

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