Thanks for nothing Clint!

I went to Loudon on Sunday for the Sprint Cup race. Yep, I love NASCAR.

In the fantasy league I belong to we get to pick drivers once per season so the trick is to use your drivers wisely. You have to figure who performs best on which track, consider how well they are doing during the season, look at stats...  Yah, something like that.

Personally I have my own secret formula for picking a driver that involves glitter and unicorns and a couple of secret calculations and it worked awesome last year (I placed FIRST yah!!). This year, not so much. NASCAR changed up the points system so that sort of makes it tough to make significant headway. Oh well.

This weekend I picked Clint Bowyer and he was doing AWESOME until about lap 296 of 300 when he RAN OUT OF GAS.

WTF

Dude races cars for a living and doesn't know enough to gas up? Dumbo.

My almost first place finish evaporated into a 26th place finish. *Le sigh*

Well, the two chicks play-fighting in the parking lot after the race made up for it when one girl hooked her thumb into the waistband of the other girl's thong and pulled it up.... up.... up and over her head. YOUPAAAH!!!

(For those who aren't familiar with thongs and anatomy, the best way to describe it is taking a wire cheese slicer to a hunk o cheddar.)


The best part is when all the lines got blurred. The boyfriends of the two battlin' babes tried to breaking them up by dumping ice water on them, but there was something smoldering there that ice water wasn't going to put out. To this casual observer it looked more like foreplay than horseplay. What with the giggle and the underpants grabbing...

Then they starting pulling the shirts off, and for some reason modesty kicked in and they jumped up and drove off.

So there was that. And it kind of made up for the sh*tty finish.

Hmmm. I am not sure THAT is the reaction they were looking for....

Check out the "reaction" to Myra Kraft's passing on Boston.com today:

In case you can't read it:

I mean, considering how the actress Megan Fox allegedly got fired for comparing director Michael Bay to Hitler, it's kinda rude to post a link to a Megan Fox SexClip in reaction to the passing of a tireless fundraiser who also happened to be of the Jewish faith. 

Just goes to show you that people really will say things online that they wouldn't likely say face to face. I mean, I am pretty certain that DenboerMasakoAH wouldn't go to the funeral to sell porn to the Kraft family. 

Although when it comes to the nerve of some people, I've been wrong before.

Spiral thinking....

Sometimes I read about something and from there my thoughts spiral out to absurd extremes.

Like when I read about the last space shuttle launch. I thought about how small the astronauts are in comparison to space. And what is space? What is our place in it? Where does it end? And if I can't imagine an end to the universe, how small does that make me? Or an ant for that matter. Is the universe imaginary? And really, what is the meaning of time?

See? It's sh*t like this that typically spirals out of control right at bedtime.

Well, today's gem comes from this article: What's in your navel?

First of all, who isn't curious about what lurks in there. And second of all I am definitely going to be A LOT more diligent about washing it out from now on.

But then my thoughts spiraled out from there and I wound up comparing belly buttons to va-jay-jays.

Oh yes I did.

Let me explain. First of all it occurred to me that most people (I think most do) use the words "belly button". We say it without thinking - belly button, bellybutton, and it kind of rolls off the tongue without notice.

However when you stop to think about it, it's a ridiculous description. A belly........ button? I would understand it more if everyone had an "outie" but this is not the case and in any case navels don't resemble buttons.

This is a button:

This is a navel:

And this is what I am talking about:

If you push the hole left behind by the umbilical cord like a button, it feels weird. Try it and see. Push it like an elevator button. Now smell your finger. That stink means bacteria.

Back to the belly button. Since most people say belly button instead of navel, I thought what other euphemisms for body parts are commonly used? Ears, hair, head, face, lips, eyes, chin, legs, arms, elbows, hands, fingers... we say without hesitation. But then we say belly button instead of navel, vajayjay for vagina, and peeper for penis.

So what I want to know is when the navel got lumped with vagina and penis?

Thoughts?

Boooom goes the sidewalk....

Walked past an unseen fire that sent noxious smoke billowing out through a sidewalk grate today. A big cloud of smoke would billow out from a grate in the sidewalk after something Down There made a big BOOM.

This is why I hate walking over those sidewalk grates. You just never know when the smoke monster will start farting.

Smoke dies down.

Then another BOOM and more smoke

Then another lull before the next BOOM

View Larger Map

Ok so not as thrilling as a triffid with an erection, but those BOOMS were pretty scary sounding.

And how was YOUR commute?

Remember that plant from the other day......

This one here.

I was subsequently informed that it was a mullein plant, aka a "toilet paper planet" on account of its Charmin-like leaves.

But I still think it's a triffid.

Someone took the time to try and break it.

But it, uh, managed to stay erect.

And also, I have another word for this plant, and it's not "toilet paper plant"....

Nevermind Whitey, I wanna know where the Vermeer is...

I am convinced that with the arrest of James "Whitey" Bulger, there are several shady art collectors collectively crapping themselves right now.

In case you don't recall, back in 1990 the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum was burgled and several valuable paintings were stolen, a Vermeer among them.

The New York Times had this quote from a neighbor:

"Janus Goodwin, 61, said she visited them in the apartment. “When I would be invited in, he would always be lying on the sofa, watching TV,” she said. “He was very proud of his little art pieces, which were cheap knockoffs of Monet and Van Gogh.”

 Hmph. Maybe they weren't knockoffs after all.... My guess is he's been selling them off on an as needed basis. 

Can't wait to see how this all shakes out.

Birds of a rusty metal feather flock to....

the nearest street corner and smoke together because they are bok-bok-badass!

This is the chicken that I threatened to buy for the Evil twin and the BiL back in March:

But the Evil Twin kiboshed that idea faster than immediately.

See the thing is in our family we tend to buy sh*t we think is cool, but for other people, because typically it's stuff we don't actually want in our own home.

Anyway, I get an email from a friend with this link to check out: http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/

I read it and nearly pissed my pants because it is hysterically funny. And then I thought, damn, that chicken gets AROUND!

I predict that Big Rusty Chicken becomes the next hipster cool shiz, like PBR, belt buckles, and trucker caps.

Open air drug market? Didn't see that one coming.....

I am incredulous that none of the first 9 comments made reference to the location.

Usually apoplectic South Enders erupt in a frenzy of NIMBY-ism at the mere thought of lumping WeMa/EaMel* in with the SE. 

I mean, an open air drug market does not carry the same sort of cachet as an open air arty-farty mart.

Although, as a peripheral resident of this particular area, I am appreciative of the efforts made by the BPD, the DA's Office, and the people who live in the Lenox buildings to put a damper on the drug trade. It might not solve the problem, but it is infinitely better than indifference.

*And by WeMa/EaMel I mean: West of Mass Ave/East of Melnea Cass, aka, Lower Roxbury, aka South End, aka F*ck You It's Roxbury, aka, My Realtor SWORE This Was the South End, aka, Get the F*ck Out Yuppie Scum, aka, Fine You Can Have This Crack Riddled Dump A**hole....

Day of the Triffids?

I came upon this plant on my way to work today:

That is some mighty plant growing out of a crack in the sidewalk. Anyone know what it is? Because I am thinking triffid.

Headline fail.

Actually it's attendant.

However, at the end of the day I can't say sh*t because I always spell "independent" as "independant", although it's not so egregious an error when you aren't the headline writer at Boston.com.

Friends don't let friends drink and cycle....

Saw this bike parked outside Hollywood Liquors last night.

A 40 and no helmet.

Yes, I checked for both.

**Correction**
I generically call anything larger than 12oz a "forty". So to be very specific this is a 24oz can of Steel Reserve. Union made, for those who care.

The $62,000 handbag. Seriously.

The $62,000 Hermes handbag, which is pre-owned but never carried, begs the $64,000 question: who on EARTH would spend that much on a pre-owned,but never carried, handbag?

See, I am not even kidding. $62k for a second handbag. I guess not every area of the economy is entirely recessed.

Osama's last words....

"Damn you auto correct"...

Thank you Apple, for supplying a way to not only track terrorists, but to then assist foiling sleeper cell activation!

Has this ever happened to you?

So a couple of years back, like 3 or maybe 5, I woke up one day and found I could no longer stand both guacamole and The Doors, oh, and also the Rolling Stones.

F*cking weird.

I still can't eat guacamole unless it is really, REALLY good and fresh. I absolutely cannot eat an avocado plain without dry heaving a little. And if I hear any song by The Doors, it's like nails on a chalkboard. Just thinking about it now gives me the shudders. SO weird, especially considering that I never felt terribly strongly about them either way.

But interestingly I woke up the other day and liked the Rolling Stones again. Well, not everything by them, just a few select songs. Mostly the songs where Mick Jagger is clearly on drugs. Which yeah, is probably all of them...

It's the crazy sounding songs that I need in the morning these days.

Take "Monkey Man" for example, which opens with soft guitar and tinkling piano and the following lyrics: "I'm a fleabit peanut monkey / All my friends are junkies / That's not really true / I'm a cold Italian pizza / I could use a lemon squeezer ..... " before ending with Jagger scream-singing the word "m-m-m-on-kayyyyyy" over and over.

WTF?! But awesome. No one uses words like "fleabit peanut monkey" any more. I bet you all those words are code words for drugs... hmmm...

The other song that is awesome for waking up kicking and punching is "Can't You Hear Me Knocking" - the opening riff makes me want to do Steven Tyler-style high kicks. I am genuinely concerned that one day I will in fact high kick in public when that song plays on my mp3 player.

From Let It Bleed:

And from Sticky Fingers:

Yeah, music totally massages my cerebral cortex. 

How do YOU end a conversation?

Are you ever on a telephone conversation with someone and they end it with "ok, well I have to let you go."

That seriously is irritating. I feel like somehow I am getting fired from the conversation or something. The idea of being "let go" is never a positive one, and even worse when someone basically gives you permission to let your own self go.

If you want off the conversation, put it on yourself.

Also, don't end emails with "Best". It's insincere. Everyone knows you don't really mean it and if in fact you actually DO care, there are much better ways to sign off.

Wow, I am getting cranky and picky in my old age. Ok, well thanks for reading, but I am going to have to let you go now.

Best!

Not quite a Volvo....

This morning I got to drive one of these:

I don't get it about cars - four wheels, goes forward, yah yah yah.

But now I get it about THIS car. It handled beautifully. And now me wanty.

Fortunately my good friend and neighbor owns it and says I can borrow it whenever. Oh why yes, yes I am pretty sure I will.

I think there is another, simpler, word for this.

One reason, among several, why I no longer possess the will to continue the "whole online dating thing" is polyamory.

Poly-huh-wha? you are probably thinking. Yeah, you don't want to know. Oh, well, maybe you do. I wish I didn't.

According to the fount of all knowledge online*, Wikipedia, polyamory is:

the practice, desire, or acceptance of having more than one intimate relationship at a time with the knowledge and consent of everyone involved. Polyamory, often abbreviated to poly, is sometimes described as consensual, ethical, or responsible non-monogamy. 

Right.

However most people (men, in my case), aren't always upfront about this aspect of their life. Which is totally annoying.

There is nothing weirder in my life than meeting a guy out for a drink who then asks me if I am interested in meeting his wife because they are looking to bring a third person into their relationship.

No thank you.

Because you know what:

A) That sounds a little Big Love-ish to me. And yeah, I know there is a difference between polyamory and polygamy, but when the couple in question is already married.... it gets confusing.

B) No part of my dating profile indicated that I was open to it. In fact I pretty much stated that I am monogamous, completely & all the time. I am half Old World French which means that it is a given that should I stab you in a jealous rage over another woman, it's nothing more than a crime of passion and really, those cannot be helped sometimes. Eh, tant pis.

C) It has never not sounded creepy to me when a guy tells me what his wife/partner is looking for, from me. Well, how about you re-read B.

Let me just say one thing here: I don't care who and how many people you are in a non-monogamous intimate relationship with, it just isn't happening with me. But if that is your thing, good luck.

Also I think that most poly folk are not looking online for another partner, it's just that the internet has sort of morphed into this weird online candy store of relationships. Maybe it was always like that. But stuff that normally people wouldn't do in real life, they will try out online. That would explain avatars I guess.

So I am giving the online thing a rest. I am done with Mr. Goodbar looking for Almond Joy. My and my, uh, Peanut Butter Cups are going to give it a try out in the non-online world.

Wish me luck.


Oh and if all the poly, married, engaged, involved, etc, folk could somehow mark themselves with a big X for my reference, that would be GREAT. Thanks!**



*Sarcasm
**Also sarcasm

Brushing my teeth & thinking...

This morning my thought process jumped on the Facebook-Reunion-Sex-Childbirth train.

I realize that this will immediately get some people thinking that I've got a big "Whoopsie! :)" revelation coming, but I don't.

Let me explain.

I was invited (sort of) via Facebook to a reunion.

Which got me thinking about reunions and how there is much about those years I would like to forget.

But also how I sort of half imagine what a good reunion would be like: it would be awesome and we'd all magically be 20 years younger (looking at least, please!).

Which got me thinking that imagining things being magically better is a bit like anticipating having sex with someone for the first time (yours, theirs, as a couple, whatever), how it never is as awesome as you imagine it will be that first go around.

Still confused? Yeah me too. Morning was a long time ago. Where was I going with this....

I guess it's just that most people imagine that things were better than they really were, even if the reality is: school sucked, sex is ALWAYS awkward the first time with a new partner, and from what I've heard, childbirth is f*cking painful.

I suppose that the point I was brushing my teeth toward is that memory glosses sh*t over, or forgets it entirely, out of necessity. It has to so that people will continue to enroll their kids in school, so that you have sex with a person until you figure it out how to make it awesome, and so once the baby pops out your brain washes itself clean with a tidal wave of endorphins (or something) so you forget you just pushed a watermelon through your nostril and consequently do it again.

And then it occurred to me that the best thing about being an adult (aside from eating Lucky Charms anytime I please) is that I don't care anymore about the people who were a**holes to me in school, even better I don't have to go to a reunion where my childish insecurities could show up like a poop in a punch bowl, and not only are the worst years behind me, but my grown-up life is pretty terrific because it is my own.

That, and I am now free to tell people to f*ck the f*ck off if I want and no one can call my folks and get me trouble. Yes!

Being an adult ROCKS! Although I am still not convinced that that was my original point this morning....

Should have held on a little longer.

You know how Yankees are, keeping everything just in case - bits of string, squares of flattened foil, bread bags....

Well, these folks should have kept this.... :

Taken on March 11, 2011 - 64 days after Epiphany

.... in case they need to shovel out a space after this:

Click Here for the full story

All I can say is that I for one would fricking LOVE a snow day.

And then immediately after that Spring.  A hot and lovely spring!

Not to belabor the point, but...

I sold the Champagne Supernova for $400.

Bye Bye Flapjack!

Oh yeah.

Which is even MORE oh yeah when you factor in the fact that 4 (maybe 5) years ago I paid $500 for it.

Now I am car-less and could careless. I have Zipcar and honestly there really isn't too many places I go in a week that I can't walk/T to.

Holla!

Anyone else watch 'Modern Family'?

Because that show is f*cking FUNNY.

I nearly choked when Claire's dad said to her, after this incident at the mall,

abc.com

"You know, when you get a massage you sound like a Tijuana prostitute."


HA! Ahahahahahaahahah!

If you haven't seen this particular episode, you should. You really should.

Just tell me the letters.

I realize that in the pantheon of annoyances, this is probably one of the lesser irritants, however it makes me bananas when someone spells out their name thusly:

"'S' as in Sam, 'H' as in hello, 'A' as in apple, 'M' as in marshmallow, 'R' as in rutabaga, 'A' as in apricot, 'G' as in garbage pail".

That totally flummoxes me as the listener. And when I ask for the letters only please, my request seems to then flummox the speller-outer.

I mean, I get it about how 't' and 'c' can be confused, or 't', 'c', and 'd'. But really, if you feel obligated to say "geeeee as in gasoline" it just sound complicated.

Ok. I am done.

For now.

Not to put Elmo out of a job or anything....

I love Facebook. I am nosy (oh so he went to Vegas with her?) and petty (yep, that mean girl from HS got FAT!) and self-centered (someone un-friended me? what the f*ck? F*ck you anyway!) and I find that FB is often an outlet for the mostly unspoken vulgarities that I prefer to think don't exist in my delicate psyche. We surf, we judge, we hope people notice our status updates.


And now, annoyingly, Facebook is used as a "tool for social change". Don't get me wrong, it's great to have a portal to a world where you can probably connect with people who make you feel less on your own, who can provide an alternate view of life which might be helpful when you live somewhere without a lot of freedom.

I just get annoyed by the appeals to be a "good citizen", namely to "Save Public Television". Currently the US budget is being pruned by the newly elected, wielding flamethrowers. It's not a fun debate to get into, but it does make a person think. Or take the easy way out and "Like" a cause that all your friends "Like" and thereby absolving yourself of any real effort. Click, click, done!

At first glance I was all about keeping funding for public television. I love, love, LOVE public television. However when I stopped to think about it, and read up about it, I realized that I am not entirely against cutting funding for public television. Public television doesn't stay on the air because of government funding, and it won't go off the air without it. It just means that the appeals season will run even longer and people will have to step up to the plate and donate a little more. Like me.

If I want to enjoy the programming, I am just going to have to start paying for it, like everything else in life. As I said, television is a luxury. You don't need Elmo to entertain your kids, you need a book and a smidgen of imagination.

And though I am a fan of NASCAR, I cannot understand why they are keeping the funding for the Army car. That is also a luxury. I am sure there is a missile maker or a helmet manufacturer who would gladly pay to sponsor the Army car.

Cut those funds and give them to Planned Parenthood. FYI Planned Parenthood isn't just an abortion factory as some might want to think. It's a resource for family planning - PLANNING! People plan trips, dates, directions, meals, weddings, parties, all kinds of things, so it seems a bit ridiculous to not have some sort of plan to have a family or not.

I tell you what, everyone who uses birth control or some other form of baby-stopper (or anyone who has sex with someone while using some form of protection either against babies OR disease) ought to give up sex for a month in protest.

Ok, fine, a week.

A day?

I guarantee you that all those folks who are so afraid of Planned Parenthood would quickly change their tune.

Hmmm, let me go put THAT on FB.

For Sale: One giant heap o'metal.

I am getting  rid of the Champagne Supernova.

Last fall it died on me and I figured I could fix it myself. I am all about looking sh*t up online for answers to stuff like: Why won't my car start? What is that thing growing on my lip? Who was that guy in that movie?

Seriously, Google is the answer (and then some) to all my questions.

Well anyway, according to the internet, the problem with my car was that it need a new fuel pump relay. So I felt around inside the car near where the 'net told me it was and yanked out what I thought was said relay.

In retrospect I am beginning to think that what I actually extracted was the overdrive relay.

Whoops.Oh well. Glad I am not a doctor or a dentist!

And now I am just bored of playing at GoogleMechanic and even more annoyed at having to pay excise tax, registration fees, insurance, and eventually for another inspection sticker, which probably would have taken another cash outlay to get it to even pass. And now I just want it gone.

So I put the car for sale on Craigslist, which basically read: Car for Sale, doesn't run, won't even turn over - don't know why, I am not a mechanic, good for parts - especially the brand new bumper, not too rusty, new tires and e-brake. $500 or best offer.

I figured I would leave it up for a week, and then if nothing happened I would donate it. 

Rather than offers I got about a million questions: does it leak fluids, how much rust does it have, how many miles since the last oil chance, how many owners, where was it manufactured, can you post a picture of the undercarriage, do you smoke, is it pet-free?

You get the idea.

I realize that it's just people being curious, but honestly it's a cheap-ass car that needs work and a tow. And I find it highly amusing that a few people will email me more than once, indignant that I haven't responded to their request for a photo of the tailpipe, or with the name of my mechanic, or some other random question.

Oh, hello, it's Craigslist. Not PoliteandConsideratelist.

And it's not just me. Potential buyers have been promising to come by since Thursday and not one has shown up as agreed. That's just how these things work. I have one last potential buyer coming Monday and if they don't show up, I am giving it to WGBH.

So there.