Monday, January 19, 2004
It's not looking good for The League's candidate of choice, the Reverend Al Sharpton. We sincerely hope that the good Reverend is able to pull ahead in the late hours of voting/ caucusing (or whatever the hell those Iowans are doing). However, should the good Reverend flop in the primaries, we are also excited about the notion of the good Reverend appearing in a future installment of The Surreal Life, possibly with Carrot Top, Cameo and Jenny McCarthy. I can dream, can't I?
Sunday, January 18, 2004
Two new blogs we're linking to here at the League.
Big salute to Emily for her colorful entry into the mind-boggling world of public journaling. And also to Distorted Veracity, which Jim pointed me to, and who has more faith in Rick Barnes and Co then myself.
Big salute to Emily for her colorful entry into the mind-boggling world of public journaling. And also to Distorted Veracity, which Jim pointed me to, and who has more faith in Rick Barnes and Co then myself.
The League is feeling oddly uninspired as of late.
There is a cloud of professional doom hanging over The league's head which may be part of the consternation. Also, the fact that "Ask Melbotis" was lifted directly from "Ask Zelda" over on Maxwell's page seems more than a little disingenuous.
I went to sleep at 7:30pm on Friday after a very, very busy work week. 7:30! I haven't done that in years. Somehow on the way home it hit me that I was insanely tired. I came home, ate a sandwich (I don't even know where the sandwich came from) and sat on the couch looking at the TV, feeling awful "it's been thirty minutes, and I feel no less awful" I told myself. I looked at the clock. It had been 3 minutes.
"I'm butt-assed tired," I said to Jamie. "I am going to bed."
And then I slept for 12 long hours. Which was terrific, because I got up at 7:30 and felt totally great.
The weekend went okay. I saw a good movie. Jamie even watched Conan with me on DVD, and we took Mel out to the pseudo-park in our neighborhood.
All in all, very quiet. Very nice.
But tomorrow I am going into work even though the Federal holiday says I don't have to. Too much to do. The professional hammer threatens to drop.
I need to go to the dry cleaner, and I need to buy a black ink cartridge for my printer. And I need to clean my bathroom, which is just gross enough I don't even want to touch it with cleaning agents.
Oh, and I ordered a jacket from an online store for fat guys. Yeah, I'm 6'5" and fat. The Gap does not accomodate me, which I tell them every time I am waiting while Jamie selects jeans. And then the sales guy says "oh, we have big sizes!" and then tells me a size I wore last when I was 19. Then I threaten to eat the stupid sales guy's head. I measured myself today. I am just at 6'5"+ in Nikes and something like 27 inches from elbow to elbow when my arms hang comfortably. Which means I don't fit in airplane seats and must order from this dumb online company if I want so much as a windbreaker because the retail store doesn't carry winter accesories in Arizona. Which is dumb. Anyway, the jacket is marked as "delivered" according to the company's website, but I don't have the jacket, so it's totally ridiculous. We'll see how it pans out, but dollars to donuts, I end up getting screwed on this one.
There is a cloud of professional doom hanging over The league's head which may be part of the consternation. Also, the fact that "Ask Melbotis" was lifted directly from "Ask Zelda" over on Maxwell's page seems more than a little disingenuous.
I went to sleep at 7:30pm on Friday after a very, very busy work week. 7:30! I haven't done that in years. Somehow on the way home it hit me that I was insanely tired. I came home, ate a sandwich (I don't even know where the sandwich came from) and sat on the couch looking at the TV, feeling awful "it's been thirty minutes, and I feel no less awful" I told myself. I looked at the clock. It had been 3 minutes.
"I'm butt-assed tired," I said to Jamie. "I am going to bed."
And then I slept for 12 long hours. Which was terrific, because I got up at 7:30 and felt totally great.
The weekend went okay. I saw a good movie. Jamie even watched Conan with me on DVD, and we took Mel out to the pseudo-park in our neighborhood.
All in all, very quiet. Very nice.
But tomorrow I am going into work even though the Federal holiday says I don't have to. Too much to do. The professional hammer threatens to drop.
I need to go to the dry cleaner, and I need to buy a black ink cartridge for my printer. And I need to clean my bathroom, which is just gross enough I don't even want to touch it with cleaning agents.
Oh, and I ordered a jacket from an online store for fat guys. Yeah, I'm 6'5" and fat. The Gap does not accomodate me, which I tell them every time I am waiting while Jamie selects jeans. And then the sales guy says "oh, we have big sizes!" and then tells me a size I wore last when I was 19. Then I threaten to eat the stupid sales guy's head. I measured myself today. I am just at 6'5"+ in Nikes and something like 27 inches from elbow to elbow when my arms hang comfortably. Which means I don't fit in airplane seats and must order from this dumb online company if I want so much as a windbreaker because the retail store doesn't carry winter accesories in Arizona. Which is dumb. Anyway, the jacket is marked as "delivered" according to the company's website, but I don't have the jacket, so it's totally ridiculous. We'll see how it pans out, but dollars to donuts, I end up getting screwed on this one.
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