Welcome to Three Word Wednesday.
Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.
Leave a comment if you participate.
This week's words are:
Hoarse
Bended
Downtown
As Grant strode down the sidewalk, downtown was coming alive. Music from inside the bars wafted out into the avenue and blended with voices to create a spirited feel. Yet it was all just background noise to him, save for the occasional boisterous laugh or someone yelling a name.
Grant had never liked the lights or the crowds before. But now they represented a distraction. An escape from the loneliness and deafening silence of home. Something to take his mind off of her. But it never lasted.
Eventually, thoughts of her would return. And he would remember the last night he saw her. The fight. Her voice hoarse from crying.
Then he would remember how they began. He didn't understand how something that seemed so perfect could turn bad. How black and white become gray, straight becomes twisted, and clear becomes murky. And he had never been any good at putting things back together once they came apart.
He had come here every night for two months. Either to remember or to forget. He knew the streets so well, he could walk them with his eyes closed. And sometimes it seemed as if he did.
He passed O'Malley's, Jupiter, The Bended Elbow, and the tattoo parlor. Then on the corner was the old man who was there every weekend, always wearing the same winter coat, even though it was June, telling anyone who would hear him that Jesus was coming soon.
Some nights Grant would think, "Not soon enough." Other nights he would pray for more time. But he always dropped a dollar in the old man's bucket. Just in case.
"My shadow's the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating..."
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
24 Recap: 3/12/07
Recapping Day Six: 6:00 PM - 7:00 PM (and that is Pacific Daylight Time, for those of you who are wondering)...
Inside the Russian Consulate, aka Moscow 90210, a guard pushes Jack down a stairway where he falls on top of a dead guy. Over the phone, Markhov tells the guard to shoot the American. With hands bound, Jack manages to take the belt off the dead guy then uses it to knock the gun out of the guard's hand and escape. Only Jack Bauer could make taking a belt off a dead guy not seem awkward. Well, maybe MacGyver.
Jack finds a phone and calls CTU. Morris answers and Jack is about to tell him Gredenko's location when Markhov orders all phone lines shut down. Did he really just tell them to shut down the DSL? No more YouTube for you, Bauer! Jack buys time inside the Consulate for most of the hour as several Russians pursue him, yet can't seem to ever find him.
At CTU, Bill introduces Ricky Schroder as Mike Doyle, the new agent in charge of field ops. And everyone acts as if they've never even seen Silver Spoons. Turns out he's a bit of a jerk who we learn worked with Milo in Denver. Ricky puts a chokehold on Morris to establish his authority or something. CTU begins assembling a field team to launch an assault on the Russian Consulate, hoping to capture Markhov and rescue Jack.
Meanwhile, Charles Logan has been brought to CTU for questioning. He tells Buchanan attacking the Consulate would be a huge mistake. And says he thinks he can get his wife/ex-wife to contact Russian President Sukarov's wife, Onya, and get her to convince her husband that Markhov is working with Gredenko. Charles calls Martha Logan's Bungalow--their name, not mine--and Aaron Pierce answers! He convinces Aaron to let him talk to Martha, but after a minute, she throws down the phone. Pierce picks it up and Logan tells him he's taking a chopper to come and talk to Martha.
In the bunker, Vice President Daniels meets with Tom Lennox. He strongarms Tom into agreeing to say Assad was the one who planted and detonated the bomb that injured President Palmer. They meet with the foreign ambassador of Assad's country, and Tom goes along with Daniels' claim. Then Daniels threatens to attack the ambassador's country if they don't help find the terrorists before the nukes go off. Daniels is now making even Dick Cheney seem logical and reasonable.
Logan arrives at the Bungalow and tries to convince Martha to call Onya. They begin to bicker back and forth, and she throws a piece of kiwi in Logan's face. Ouch! That can really burn if it gets in your eye. Then Martha gets up to walk around and out of nowhere comes up behind Logan and stabs him in the neck! You know, one of those little squishy stress balls can do wonders for that pent up anger. You can almost feel the homocidal tendencies just melt away. Pierce yells for a medic as Logan pulls the knife out and blood begins to spurt.
At Moscow 90210, Schroder has his assault team amassed along the perimeter. Inside, Jack finds a room with a previously unseen Russian couple who appear to be on the verge of making out. Really people, not in the Consulate. Get a room. He asks the guy if there is another phone in the building. The guy says there is a satellite phone and Jack sends him to get it. When he returns, Jack dials CTU as some Russians come thru the door and open fire. Phone guy gets shot(SPF: 7), while Jack and Svetlana--my name, not theirs--take cover.
Though she has just stabbed her husband/ex-husband, Martha pulls it together enough to explain the situation to Onya Sukarov. We next see the Russian President call Markhov and tell him to surrender. Markhov refuses, then calls Gredenko to warn him the Americans are coming. Sukarov calls Buchanan and tells him Russian government will support the use of force on the Consulate. Buchanan gives Ricky the go-ahead and a massive firefight ensues. As the assault team moves in, Markhov is shot. Two Americans break windows in the room where Jack is and take out the Russian gunmen just in time.
Out at Gredenko's Desert Resort, Oasis, and Nuclear Drone Launch Site--the GDRONDLS--Fayed has arrived with the nukes. Gredenko gives the orders to arm them. Meanwhile, in the back of an ambulance somewhere, Charles Logan begins to slip away...
Next week, Alfonso Ribeiro challenges Ricky Schroder to a Pac-Man Death Match at the Stratton Mansion!
The good:
Pierce is back! Back again. Tell a friend.
Martha Logan's shocking and unstable return.
Decent action, with Jack pulling the amazing belt escape in the beginning, then the assault team moving in on the Consulate at the end.
The bad:
Ricky Schroder. Seriously, I'm not buying him as a tough guy at all. When I first saw that's who the new field agent was, I literally screamed, "Noooooo!"
Very little Chloe.
A lot in this episode seemed to be rushed or forced: Ricky putting a chokehold on Morris. Are you joking me?
The whole Pierce bringing Martha fresh fruit from market thing just seemed hokey and out of place.
The couple getting hot and heavy in the Russian Consulate, after they locked everything down last week.
Best scene:
Martha Logan stabbing Charles. Just for the sheer shock value, if nothing else. Right before that happened, I was thinking, "Is Martha throwing kiwi in Logan's face the most action we're going to see tonight?" The 24 writers do it again.
Best quote:
"Martha Logan's Bungalow." That cracked me up. I may start answering the phone like that. Bone's Bachelor Domicile. You're on the phone with Bone.
Chloeism:
"I'm beginning to feel ambivalent."
24 Trivia:
Which of the following does not belong?
A. Tony Almeida
B. Curtis Manning
C. Ricky Schroder.
Questions:
Where are they taking the Martha/Pierce storyline? Surely they didn't bring her back just to stab Charles.
Will Ricky and Jack clash? Or should I say, when will they clash?
After he escapes, how is Jack able to wander around for basically the entire hour inside the Russian consulate without being found, even though basically everyone is looking for him?
"Here we are, face to face, a couple of silver spoons. Hoping to find, we're two of a kind. Making a go. Making it grow..."
Inside the Russian Consulate, aka Moscow 90210, a guard pushes Jack down a stairway where he falls on top of a dead guy. Over the phone, Markhov tells the guard to shoot the American. With hands bound, Jack manages to take the belt off the dead guy then uses it to knock the gun out of the guard's hand and escape. Only Jack Bauer could make taking a belt off a dead guy not seem awkward. Well, maybe MacGyver.
Jack finds a phone and calls CTU. Morris answers and Jack is about to tell him Gredenko's location when Markhov orders all phone lines shut down. Did he really just tell them to shut down the DSL? No more YouTube for you, Bauer! Jack buys time inside the Consulate for most of the hour as several Russians pursue him, yet can't seem to ever find him.
At CTU, Bill introduces Ricky Schroder as Mike Doyle, the new agent in charge of field ops. And everyone acts as if they've never even seen Silver Spoons. Turns out he's a bit of a jerk who we learn worked with Milo in Denver. Ricky puts a chokehold on Morris to establish his authority or something. CTU begins assembling a field team to launch an assault on the Russian Consulate, hoping to capture Markhov and rescue Jack.
Meanwhile, Charles Logan has been brought to CTU for questioning. He tells Buchanan attacking the Consulate would be a huge mistake. And says he thinks he can get his wife/ex-wife to contact Russian President Sukarov's wife, Onya, and get her to convince her husband that Markhov is working with Gredenko. Charles calls Martha Logan's Bungalow--their name, not mine--and Aaron Pierce answers! He convinces Aaron to let him talk to Martha, but after a minute, she throws down the phone. Pierce picks it up and Logan tells him he's taking a chopper to come and talk to Martha.
In the bunker, Vice President Daniels meets with Tom Lennox. He strongarms Tom into agreeing to say Assad was the one who planted and detonated the bomb that injured President Palmer. They meet with the foreign ambassador of Assad's country, and Tom goes along with Daniels' claim. Then Daniels threatens to attack the ambassador's country if they don't help find the terrorists before the nukes go off. Daniels is now making even Dick Cheney seem logical and reasonable.
Logan arrives at the Bungalow and tries to convince Martha to call Onya. They begin to bicker back and forth, and she throws a piece of kiwi in Logan's face. Ouch! That can really burn if it gets in your eye. Then Martha gets up to walk around and out of nowhere comes up behind Logan and stabs him in the neck! You know, one of those little squishy stress balls can do wonders for that pent up anger. You can almost feel the homocidal tendencies just melt away. Pierce yells for a medic as Logan pulls the knife out and blood begins to spurt.
At Moscow 90210, Schroder has his assault team amassed along the perimeter. Inside, Jack finds a room with a previously unseen Russian couple who appear to be on the verge of making out. Really people, not in the Consulate. Get a room. He asks the guy if there is another phone in the building. The guy says there is a satellite phone and Jack sends him to get it. When he returns, Jack dials CTU as some Russians come thru the door and open fire. Phone guy gets shot(SPF: 7), while Jack and Svetlana--my name, not theirs--take cover.
Though she has just stabbed her husband/ex-husband, Martha pulls it together enough to explain the situation to Onya Sukarov. We next see the Russian President call Markhov and tell him to surrender. Markhov refuses, then calls Gredenko to warn him the Americans are coming. Sukarov calls Buchanan and tells him Russian government will support the use of force on the Consulate. Buchanan gives Ricky the go-ahead and a massive firefight ensues. As the assault team moves in, Markhov is shot. Two Americans break windows in the room where Jack is and take out the Russian gunmen just in time.
Out at Gredenko's Desert Resort, Oasis, and Nuclear Drone Launch Site--the GDRONDLS--Fayed has arrived with the nukes. Gredenko gives the orders to arm them. Meanwhile, in the back of an ambulance somewhere, Charles Logan begins to slip away...
Next week, Alfonso Ribeiro challenges Ricky Schroder to a Pac-Man Death Match at the Stratton Mansion!
The good:
Pierce is back! Back again. Tell a friend.
Martha Logan's shocking and unstable return.
Decent action, with Jack pulling the amazing belt escape in the beginning, then the assault team moving in on the Consulate at the end.
The bad:
Ricky Schroder. Seriously, I'm not buying him as a tough guy at all. When I first saw that's who the new field agent was, I literally screamed, "Noooooo!"
Very little Chloe.
A lot in this episode seemed to be rushed or forced: Ricky putting a chokehold on Morris. Are you joking me?
The whole Pierce bringing Martha fresh fruit from market thing just seemed hokey and out of place.
The couple getting hot and heavy in the Russian Consulate, after they locked everything down last week.
Best scene:
Martha Logan stabbing Charles. Just for the sheer shock value, if nothing else. Right before that happened, I was thinking, "Is Martha throwing kiwi in Logan's face the most action we're going to see tonight?" The 24 writers do it again.
Best quote:
"Martha Logan's Bungalow." That cracked me up. I may start answering the phone like that. Bone's Bachelor Domicile. You're on the phone with Bone.
Chloeism:
"I'm beginning to feel ambivalent."
24 Trivia:
Which of the following does not belong?
A. Tony Almeida
B. Curtis Manning
C. Ricky Schroder.
Questions:
Where are they taking the Martha/Pierce storyline? Surely they didn't bring her back just to stab Charles.
Will Ricky and Jack clash? Or should I say, when will they clash?
After he escapes, how is Jack able to wander around for basically the entire hour inside the Russian consulate without being found, even though basically everyone is looking for him?
"Here we are, face to face, a couple of silver spoons. Hoping to find, we're two of a kind. Making a go. Making it grow..."
Monday, March 12, 2007
Putting the fun in reFUNd
I spent part of yesterday getting tax stuff ready. As a single person slightly above the poverty line and with no children, I don't really get a lot of tax breaks. Or so I thought. I started digging around for additional deductions I might claim, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at what I found.
For example, did you know I can claim Pablo as a dependent? I looked up information on dependents on the Internal Refund Service website. Well, I couldn't really understand any of that, but I looked up "dependent" in the dictionary. It is defined as, "one who relies on another for support." Hello! If that's not Pablo, I don't know what is.
I submit for your consideration the following comparison: Pablo versus a child. A child eventually learns to dress itself, bathe itself (hopefully), and feed itself. Pablo positions himself near the top of his tank and waits for pellets to fall from the sky. That's the extent of his feeding himself. I don't really see him hopping out of the tank and strutting downstairs for some chips and queso. Although I really don't know what he does all day while I'm at work.
I am also planning to deduct my water bill for the year. Water should be free. It's part of nature. Next thing you know, they'll be charging us for trees. And air. A nickel per cubic foot. How would you measure that? Exactly! You couldn't. This is the United States of America, for crying out loud! The letters to spell water can be found right in our name! Well, all except for the W.
Next, I've decided we should all get a $1000 clothes allowance per year. This comes under my theory of "anything I have to buy in order to not violate a law the government has passed should be deductible." If I don't wear clothes, it's indecent exposure. So unless they plan on including How To Use A Loom as part of the public school curriculum, clothes are deductible.
I'm also claiming money spent on music--CD's, iPods, iTunes, etc. Because honestly, without my music, I would have long ago gone postal. Then the government would be responsible for a messy clean-up and lengthy trial. Music is saving the government money, and therefore should be deductible.
Finally, I think all money spent on dates and courting should be deductible. We're taking women out trying to trick them into marrying us, and later bearing our children, thus contributing to the preservation of the species, and on a smaller scale, our country. I've prepared a simple diagram to explain. (See fig. 1.1A)
(fig. 1.1A)
Phase one: Dating
Phase two: ???
Phase three: Children (Where children = future taxpayers)
Anyway, according to my preliminary calculations, I should be getting back $1200 more than I paid in taxes last year. Sweet!
On a completely unrelated note, if I were to stop blogging all of a sudden, don't be alarmed. I'll see you all in three to five years.
"If your woman steps out with another man, and she runs off with him to Japan. And the IRS says they want to chat, and you can't explain why you claimed your cat..."
For example, did you know I can claim Pablo as a dependent? I looked up information on dependents on the Internal Refund Service website. Well, I couldn't really understand any of that, but I looked up "dependent" in the dictionary. It is defined as, "one who relies on another for support." Hello! If that's not Pablo, I don't know what is.
I submit for your consideration the following comparison: Pablo versus a child. A child eventually learns to dress itself, bathe itself (hopefully), and feed itself. Pablo positions himself near the top of his tank and waits for pellets to fall from the sky. That's the extent of his feeding himself. I don't really see him hopping out of the tank and strutting downstairs for some chips and queso. Although I really don't know what he does all day while I'm at work.
I am also planning to deduct my water bill for the year. Water should be free. It's part of nature. Next thing you know, they'll be charging us for trees. And air. A nickel per cubic foot. How would you measure that? Exactly! You couldn't. This is the United States of America, for crying out loud! The letters to spell water can be found right in our name! Well, all except for the W.
Next, I've decided we should all get a $1000 clothes allowance per year. This comes under my theory of "anything I have to buy in order to not violate a law the government has passed should be deductible." If I don't wear clothes, it's indecent exposure. So unless they plan on including How To Use A Loom as part of the public school curriculum, clothes are deductible.
I'm also claiming money spent on music--CD's, iPods, iTunes, etc. Because honestly, without my music, I would have long ago gone postal. Then the government would be responsible for a messy clean-up and lengthy trial. Music is saving the government money, and therefore should be deductible.
Finally, I think all money spent on dates and courting should be deductible. We're taking women out trying to trick them into marrying us, and later bearing our children, thus contributing to the preservation of the species, and on a smaller scale, our country. I've prepared a simple diagram to explain. (See fig. 1.1A)
(fig. 1.1A)
Phase one: Dating
Phase two: ???
Phase three: Children (Where children = future taxpayers)
Anyway, according to my preliminary calculations, I should be getting back $1200 more than I paid in taxes last year. Sweet!
On a completely unrelated note, if I were to stop blogging all of a sudden, don't be alarmed. I'll see you all in three to five years.
"If your woman steps out with another man, and she runs off with him to Japan. And the IRS says they want to chat, and you can't explain why you claimed your cat..."
Friday, March 09, 2007
The fashion evolution of Bone
A few months ago, I found myself in Cracker Barrell, standing in line behind a guy who was wearing a flannel shirt, tucked in to his slim fit tapered leg faded jeans, the bottom of which conveniently fell about two inches above his white Nikes. Yes, I was tempted to bend down and tight roll them.
Normally I don't pay attention to what other guys wear. But for some reason, this caught my attention. And I began to ponder. I think some people just get tired of trying to keep up with the latest styles and fashions. They find a look they like, and they stick with it from here on out. Look at Cracker Barrell Guy, for instance. I'd say he deboarded the fashion bus sometime around 1985.
That's fine if that's who you want to be. No judgment here. After all, I watched Cheers, I liked Sam Malone. My question is, where do people who wear these out of style clothes keep finding them? Because they can't all be wearing clothes that are twenty years old. Somewhere, some store has to still be selling them. Which means some company has to still be manufacturing them. That's what confounds me about all of this.
Don't get the wrong idea. I make no claim to be on the leading edge of fashion myself. I'm closer to the trailing edge, actually. But I do try to keep up. I even got a compliment the other day from a female friend of a friend, who told my friend, "He knows how to dress."
Still, I say all this very humbly, as someone whose personal fashion evolution includes the Wrangler and cowboy boot phase of the early nineties. But I survived that and am able to laugh about it now. And by laugh, I mean shudder.
It was during my heavy country music listening days. Which is the main reason I totally missed out on the whole Nirvana/Pearl Jam/Metallica explosion. But that's another story for another post. I was all the time going to country concerts. Alabama, Garth, Reba, George Strait, Clint Black, Kenny Chesney, Tim McGraw, Brooks & Dunn, I saw them all.
I even had a black felt cowboy hat that I wore to a concert or two. Yes, I was that guy. Except I didn't know I was supposed to have the hat shaped. So I wound up looking more like Howdy Doody than Garth Brooks.
I wore boots. And Wranglers. Tight, slim fit Wranglers. As in, if I had a toothpick in my pocket, you'd be able to spot the outline of it from fifty feet away. And tell if it was single-ended or double-ended. I also wore briefs.
I'm not ashamed of my fashion past. But now, thankfully, I'm a different man. With a different body. And different jeans. And boxers. I still occasionally listen to country music. But I could never go back to Wranglers. Or briefs.
Once you get used to that free-wheeling, unfettered lifestyle, I don't think it's possible to go back. It'd be like driving a Tahoe for ten years, then trying to fit back into an Escort. Certain parts of my body hurt now just thinking about it.
Most everything I've learned about fashion has come from girls I was dating at the time, female friends, or occasionally my sister. After all, why do guys comb their hair, shave, or wear nice clothes? It's not to impress the other guys, I can assure you.
Several weeks ago, I purchased a corduroy blazer with vintage suede elbow pads. Much like the pink shirt, it is the type of purchase that could only have been made with female accompaniment and approval.
Danger arises, however, when I go thru a dating drought. Female friends can help a little. But the fact is, no one is going to be as vigilant as the girl who has to be seen in public with you and known as your girlfriend. One might theorize some guys who are "out of style" are simply still wearing the clothes they wore the last time they had a girlfriend.
I'm pretty good at putting outfits together. But sometimes, I'm not 100% sure what jacket to wear with a particular shirt, for example. Some mornings I literally spend a minute or two agonizing over my outfit for the day. Here's where I think an outfit flowchart for guys would come in handy. (Not to be confused with a Jump To Conclusions Mat.) Yes friends, my name is Bone, and I'm bringing flowcharts back.
Every guy could have a girl in his life go thru his clothes and design one for him. We could just plug in a particular shirt or sweater into the oval box, then follow a series of lines, diamonds, and parallelograms leading us to acceptable jacket and pant combinations.
Another question I sometimes struggle with is: When is it appropriate to tuck in shirts for guys?
Personally, with jeans, I never tuck. Polo shirts, t-shirts, button-up shirts, I leave them untucked. Even with a sport jacket. Normally with dress pants, I tuck. But what about with khakis? And is it ever appropriate to tuck with jeans?
These are the questions I have. These are the clothes that I wear.
And don't discount the outfit flowchart.
"What's the matter with the clothes I'm wearing? Can't you tell that your tie's too wide? Maybe I should buy some old tab collars. Welcome back to the age of jive..."
Normally I don't pay attention to what other guys wear. But for some reason, this caught my attention. And I began to ponder. I think some people just get tired of trying to keep up with the latest styles and fashions. They find a look they like, and they stick with it from here on out. Look at Cracker Barrell Guy, for instance. I'd say he deboarded the fashion bus sometime around 1985.
That's fine if that's who you want to be. No judgment here. After all, I watched Cheers, I liked Sam Malone. My question is, where do people who wear these out of style clothes keep finding them? Because they can't all be wearing clothes that are twenty years old. Somewhere, some store has to still be selling them. Which means some company has to still be manufacturing them. That's what confounds me about all of this.
Don't get the wrong idea. I make no claim to be on the leading edge of fashion myself. I'm closer to the trailing edge, actually. But I do try to keep up. I even got a compliment the other day from a female friend of a friend, who told my friend, "He knows how to dress."
Still, I say all this very humbly, as someone whose personal fashion evolution includes the Wrangler and cowboy boot phase of the early nineties. But I survived that and am able to laugh about it now. And by laugh, I mean shudder.
It was during my heavy country music listening days. Which is the main reason I totally missed out on the whole Nirvana/Pearl Jam/Metallica explosion. But that's another story for another post. I was all the time going to country concerts. Alabama, Garth, Reba, George Strait, Clint Black, Kenny Chesney, Tim McGraw, Brooks & Dunn, I saw them all.
I even had a black felt cowboy hat that I wore to a concert or two. Yes, I was that guy. Except I didn't know I was supposed to have the hat shaped. So I wound up looking more like Howdy Doody than Garth Brooks.
I wore boots. And Wranglers. Tight, slim fit Wranglers. As in, if I had a toothpick in my pocket, you'd be able to spot the outline of it from fifty feet away. And tell if it was single-ended or double-ended. I also wore briefs.
I'm not ashamed of my fashion past. But now, thankfully, I'm a different man. With a different body. And different jeans. And boxers. I still occasionally listen to country music. But I could never go back to Wranglers. Or briefs.
Once you get used to that free-wheeling, unfettered lifestyle, I don't think it's possible to go back. It'd be like driving a Tahoe for ten years, then trying to fit back into an Escort. Certain parts of my body hurt now just thinking about it.
Most everything I've learned about fashion has come from girls I was dating at the time, female friends, or occasionally my sister. After all, why do guys comb their hair, shave, or wear nice clothes? It's not to impress the other guys, I can assure you.
Several weeks ago, I purchased a corduroy blazer with vintage suede elbow pads. Much like the pink shirt, it is the type of purchase that could only have been made with female accompaniment and approval.
Danger arises, however, when I go thru a dating drought. Female friends can help a little. But the fact is, no one is going to be as vigilant as the girl who has to be seen in public with you and known as your girlfriend. One might theorize some guys who are "out of style" are simply still wearing the clothes they wore the last time they had a girlfriend.
I'm pretty good at putting outfits together. But sometimes, I'm not 100% sure what jacket to wear with a particular shirt, for example. Some mornings I literally spend a minute or two agonizing over my outfit for the day. Here's where I think an outfit flowchart for guys would come in handy. (Not to be confused with a Jump To Conclusions Mat.) Yes friends, my name is Bone, and I'm bringing flowcharts back.
Every guy could have a girl in his life go thru his clothes and design one for him. We could just plug in a particular shirt or sweater into the oval box, then follow a series of lines, diamonds, and parallelograms leading us to acceptable jacket and pant combinations.
Another question I sometimes struggle with is: When is it appropriate to tuck in shirts for guys?
Personally, with jeans, I never tuck. Polo shirts, t-shirts, button-up shirts, I leave them untucked. Even with a sport jacket. Normally with dress pants, I tuck. But what about with khakis? And is it ever appropriate to tuck with jeans?
These are the questions I have. These are the clothes that I wear.
And don't discount the outfit flowchart.
"What's the matter with the clothes I'm wearing? Can't you tell that your tie's too wide? Maybe I should buy some old tab collars. Welcome back to the age of jive..."
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
3 Word Wednesday #26
Welcome to Three Word Wednesday.
Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.
Leave a comment if you participate.
This week's words are:
Crowd
Sneak
Raging
It was not my first concert. But it was my first time to sneak out of the house. To this day, I have a great and terrible fear my mother is going to find out about that night.
Raging Whore Moans were playing at the Bama Breeze, and Craig Henderson claimed he could get us all fake ID's. Except we didn't know that by get, he meant make, with laminating sheets he bought at Eckerd.
According to my ID, I was twenty-two. We weren't planning on drinking, but you had to be twenty-one to get in. And I will never forget my fake name: Andy Griffin. I'm sure it would have been Griffith, except for the fact Craig always thought it was called the Andy Griffin Show.
There would be four of us going: Craig, myself, Kristi, and Jennifer. The girls pulled the old I'm-spending-the-night-at-her-house routine. But as I had not spent the night with any of my friends in over two years, I thought my Mom might think that a tad suspicious. And Craig, well I wasn't even sure he had parents.
The band was scheduled to start at 9:30, but I knew there was no way I'd be able to get out of the house until at least 10:00. Craig said that was OK as they would be playing until well after midnight.
My parents retired to their bedroom around 10:00. And my nervousness was suddenly replaced by a burst of confidence, as they rarely left their room once they were in for the night. Still, I waited half an hour, hoping Mom would be asleep, and then crept down the hall. The floor seemed to creak louder and louder with every step, and I was certain that at any second, the bedroom door was going to open. Finally, I made it to the carport door and was out.
Craig parked down the street in front of a house that was still being built, in his black Fiero. You may think it would be impossible to fit four teenagers into a Fiero. And you would be correct. But on that night, we defied the laws of mass and space. Fortunately, it was an automatic, as there was no way Craig could have shifted gears without risking injuring someone.
We literally rolled out of the car into the parking lot of the Bama Breeze, and nervousness sprang freely once again. What if my parents had already discovered I was gone? What if our fake ID's didn't work? What if we were arrested?
As we approached the door, I heard the bouncer say to the guy in front of us, "Ten dollar cover." I didn't even know what a cover charge was! Ten dollars? For each of us? I only had like twelve bucks to my name. If I had known this, I never would have agreed to Craig's crazy, half-baked plan in the first place.
I felt like a felon as the bouncer checked my ID. Maybe I was a felon? Fortunately, most bars were not too strict about who they let in. Thankfully, Kristi brought money and paid her own cover. I would have hated for her to miss the show.
That was nearly twenty years ago.
Saturday night, I went to see Raging Whore Moans again. The crowd was much sparser this time. And the band may have been more accurately dubbed Aging Whore Moans. But when they sang "Die, Sally, Die" I closed my eyes, and for a moment I was seventeen again. Or twenty-two.
"At the Bama Breeze, I turned twenty-one down there. Had too much fun down there. Stumbled out with the sun down there..."
Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. This is a writing exercise. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also attempt to write something using the same three words.
Leave a comment if you participate.
This week's words are:
Crowd
Sneak
Raging
It was not my first concert. But it was my first time to sneak out of the house. To this day, I have a great and terrible fear my mother is going to find out about that night.
Raging Whore Moans were playing at the Bama Breeze, and Craig Henderson claimed he could get us all fake ID's. Except we didn't know that by get, he meant make, with laminating sheets he bought at Eckerd.
According to my ID, I was twenty-two. We weren't planning on drinking, but you had to be twenty-one to get in. And I will never forget my fake name: Andy Griffin. I'm sure it would have been Griffith, except for the fact Craig always thought it was called the Andy Griffin Show.
There would be four of us going: Craig, myself, Kristi, and Jennifer. The girls pulled the old I'm-spending-the-night-at-her-house routine. But as I had not spent the night with any of my friends in over two years, I thought my Mom might think that a tad suspicious. And Craig, well I wasn't even sure he had parents.
The band was scheduled to start at 9:30, but I knew there was no way I'd be able to get out of the house until at least 10:00. Craig said that was OK as they would be playing until well after midnight.
My parents retired to their bedroom around 10:00. And my nervousness was suddenly replaced by a burst of confidence, as they rarely left their room once they were in for the night. Still, I waited half an hour, hoping Mom would be asleep, and then crept down the hall. The floor seemed to creak louder and louder with every step, and I was certain that at any second, the bedroom door was going to open. Finally, I made it to the carport door and was out.
Craig parked down the street in front of a house that was still being built, in his black Fiero. You may think it would be impossible to fit four teenagers into a Fiero. And you would be correct. But on that night, we defied the laws of mass and space. Fortunately, it was an automatic, as there was no way Craig could have shifted gears without risking injuring someone.
We literally rolled out of the car into the parking lot of the Bama Breeze, and nervousness sprang freely once again. What if my parents had already discovered I was gone? What if our fake ID's didn't work? What if we were arrested?
As we approached the door, I heard the bouncer say to the guy in front of us, "Ten dollar cover." I didn't even know what a cover charge was! Ten dollars? For each of us? I only had like twelve bucks to my name. If I had known this, I never would have agreed to Craig's crazy, half-baked plan in the first place.
I felt like a felon as the bouncer checked my ID. Maybe I was a felon? Fortunately, most bars were not too strict about who they let in. Thankfully, Kristi brought money and paid her own cover. I would have hated for her to miss the show.
That was nearly twenty years ago.
Saturday night, I went to see Raging Whore Moans again. The crowd was much sparser this time. And the band may have been more accurately dubbed Aging Whore Moans. But when they sang "Die, Sally, Die" I closed my eyes, and for a moment I was seventeen again. Or twenty-two.
"At the Bama Breeze, I turned twenty-one down there. Had too much fun down there. Stumbled out with the sun down there..."
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
24 Recap: 3/5/07
Recapping tonight's epsiode, also known as Day Six: 5:00 PM - 6:00 PM, while wondering if 24 will observe Daylight Savings Time next week...
Here's what we (think we) know: Assad is dead, killed by the bomb that Reed planted and activated. President Palmer is alive, but unconscious and unable to serve.
Bill calls Karen to tell her about Palmer. Karen, who is still waiting for a plane, decides she should stay and says she will withdraw her resignation. Vice President Daniels, who is still on a plane, is notified that he will assume all the duties of the Presidency. Does that include dealing with the President's sister? I'd definitely have to ask that before proceeding. Upon landing, Daniels asks to see Tom Lennox a couple of times. When Tom can't be found, the Secretary of Defense calls for a sweep of the bunker to find him.
Reed hurries down to the boiler room to tell Carson the news. Carson wants to kill Tom and make it look like suicide, but Reed talks him out of it. Reed tries convincing Tom that they are doing what is best for the country, and that if he reveals what he knows about the assassination attempt, no one will believe him anyway. He unties Tom, and they leave the boiler room. The second Tom sees a Secret Service agent, he tells him Reed and Carson are directly responsible for the assassination attempt, and has them arrested.
Upon arriving at the Russian consulate, aka Moscow 90210, Logan convinces Jack to let him meet with Markhov alone. Markhov denies any knowledge of Gredenko's whereabouts, even after Logan threatens him by saying he will send evidence to Moscow linking Markhov with the syntax nerve gas the terrorists used last season.
As soon as Logan leaves, Markhov calls Gredenko, who surprisingly is not on the phone with Fayed. He tells Gredenko the Americans are looking for him, but assures him that by the time they locate him, it will be too late. Back in the car, Logan tells Jack he is certain Markhov is lying. Jack calls CTU and tells Chloe to prepare to cut off power to the Russian consulate for sixty seconds. He's going back in. Finally, Jack's back in action! Is it just me, or did it not seem like the power stayed off for anywhere near sixty seconds?
In the bunker, Dick Cheney... I mean, Daniels, tells his assistant(?) Lisa to make sure everyone gets a copy of Tom's proposal. He then walks in while Tom is being questioned about his knowledge of the assassination attempt. The two of them argue over Assad's innocence. And the Vice President tells Tom he wants to push thru the stricter security measures, reminding him it was Tom's proposal in the first place.
Out at Moscow 90210, Jack gets inside the Consul's office, but Markhov manages to press his panic button. Now if Jack only had an Easy button to override the panic button. Jack locks the door and informs the Russian guys outside the door that he is holding the Consul hostage. This sets off a string of phone calls. Jack calls Buchanan, who calls the Vice President, who receives a call from the Russian President asking what's the dealio?
After Markhov initially denies knowing Gredenko's whereabouts, Jack begins to play a sadistic game of This Little Piggy with Markhov's fingers and a cigar cutter. After the first finger is, um, removed, Jack pulls a gun on Markhov. Nine Fingers finally tells all. He says Gredenko is in the desert and planning to launch drones in two hours which will carry the nukes to their destinations.
Jack starts to leave, although I'm not sure why he thought he was just going to be able to walk out. The security guards set off plastic explosives to blow open the door. The explosion knocks Jack off his feet and he is apprehended. Later, Jack tells a Russian guard what Nine Fingers told him and implores him to call CTU and pass the information along to Bill Buchanan. The guard goes outside and calls, but as he is holding for Buchanan, he is shot (SPF: 5) by one of the other Russians. Who didn't see that coming.
At CTU, everyone is concerned when they haven't heard from Jack. Morris somehow finds a message in Russian which says that an American agent is in custody. Nadia tells Bill about the message. Bill tells her to get special ops ready and make plans to storm the Russian consulate to try to get Jack back. Booyah!
The good:
Jack going back into the Consulate and the interrogation of Markhov.
Lennox ratting out Reed and Carson.
Bill rounding up the posse to go rescue Jack.
No mention of Morris' alcoholism.
Palmer's alive. Because really, we've been there, done that, on the Presidential assassination. At the beginning of last season.
Lisa, the Vice President's assistant. We need some new characters in the bunker, with everyone being arrested or blown to smithereens.
The bad:
No Milo. And really not much CTU. Remember when like 80% of the show was either Jack in the field or goings-on at CTU? Sigh.
Still not a ton of action.
No Fayed.
The stricter security measures storyline isn't really going anywhere. I guess it could affect Nadia again at some point.
Best scene:
Jack cutting off Markhov's finger! Although it would have been better to see it drop to the floor. Or at least hear a thud and a roll. And why stop at one? Three Fingers or No Thumbs makes a much better nickname than Nine Fingers.
Understatement of the hour:
"Bill, this is Jack. I've got a situation here."
Did you know...
Four out of five special agents chose the cigar cutter as their preferred finger removal device.
This week's Did You Know is brought to you by La Carolina Torpito authentic Cuban cigars. You'll think you've died and gone to Havana.
Questions:
Who else was in on the assassination plot? Tom said Reed seemed to indicate there were others involved.
Will Palmer return, and when? And WWDD? What will Daniels do?
In the scenes from next week, was that Aaron Pierce with the former First Lady?!?! Are they bringing Pierce back?! I don't think I'll be able to contain myself.
"What's the d-d-d-deal? What's the d-d-d-deal? What's the d-d-d-dealio, the dealio..."
Here's what we (think we) know: Assad is dead, killed by the bomb that Reed planted and activated. President Palmer is alive, but unconscious and unable to serve.
Bill calls Karen to tell her about Palmer. Karen, who is still waiting for a plane, decides she should stay and says she will withdraw her resignation. Vice President Daniels, who is still on a plane, is notified that he will assume all the duties of the Presidency. Does that include dealing with the President's sister? I'd definitely have to ask that before proceeding. Upon landing, Daniels asks to see Tom Lennox a couple of times. When Tom can't be found, the Secretary of Defense calls for a sweep of the bunker to find him.
Reed hurries down to the boiler room to tell Carson the news. Carson wants to kill Tom and make it look like suicide, but Reed talks him out of it. Reed tries convincing Tom that they are doing what is best for the country, and that if he reveals what he knows about the assassination attempt, no one will believe him anyway. He unties Tom, and they leave the boiler room. The second Tom sees a Secret Service agent, he tells him Reed and Carson are directly responsible for the assassination attempt, and has them arrested.
Upon arriving at the Russian consulate, aka Moscow 90210, Logan convinces Jack to let him meet with Markhov alone. Markhov denies any knowledge of Gredenko's whereabouts, even after Logan threatens him by saying he will send evidence to Moscow linking Markhov with the syntax nerve gas the terrorists used last season.
As soon as Logan leaves, Markhov calls Gredenko, who surprisingly is not on the phone with Fayed. He tells Gredenko the Americans are looking for him, but assures him that by the time they locate him, it will be too late. Back in the car, Logan tells Jack he is certain Markhov is lying. Jack calls CTU and tells Chloe to prepare to cut off power to the Russian consulate for sixty seconds. He's going back in. Finally, Jack's back in action! Is it just me, or did it not seem like the power stayed off for anywhere near sixty seconds?
In the bunker, Dick Cheney... I mean, Daniels, tells his assistant(?) Lisa to make sure everyone gets a copy of Tom's proposal. He then walks in while Tom is being questioned about his knowledge of the assassination attempt. The two of them argue over Assad's innocence. And the Vice President tells Tom he wants to push thru the stricter security measures, reminding him it was Tom's proposal in the first place.
Out at Moscow 90210, Jack gets inside the Consul's office, but Markhov manages to press his panic button. Now if Jack only had an Easy button to override the panic button. Jack locks the door and informs the Russian guys outside the door that he is holding the Consul hostage. This sets off a string of phone calls. Jack calls Buchanan, who calls the Vice President, who receives a call from the Russian President asking what's the dealio?
After Markhov initially denies knowing Gredenko's whereabouts, Jack begins to play a sadistic game of This Little Piggy with Markhov's fingers and a cigar cutter. After the first finger is, um, removed, Jack pulls a gun on Markhov. Nine Fingers finally tells all. He says Gredenko is in the desert and planning to launch drones in two hours which will carry the nukes to their destinations.
Jack starts to leave, although I'm not sure why he thought he was just going to be able to walk out. The security guards set off plastic explosives to blow open the door. The explosion knocks Jack off his feet and he is apprehended. Later, Jack tells a Russian guard what Nine Fingers told him and implores him to call CTU and pass the information along to Bill Buchanan. The guard goes outside and calls, but as he is holding for Buchanan, he is shot (SPF: 5) by one of the other Russians. Who didn't see that coming.
At CTU, everyone is concerned when they haven't heard from Jack. Morris somehow finds a message in Russian which says that an American agent is in custody. Nadia tells Bill about the message. Bill tells her to get special ops ready and make plans to storm the Russian consulate to try to get Jack back. Booyah!
The good:
Jack going back into the Consulate and the interrogation of Markhov.
Lennox ratting out Reed and Carson.
Bill rounding up the posse to go rescue Jack.
No mention of Morris' alcoholism.
Palmer's alive. Because really, we've been there, done that, on the Presidential assassination. At the beginning of last season.
Lisa, the Vice President's assistant. We need some new characters in the bunker, with everyone being arrested or blown to smithereens.
The bad:
No Milo. And really not much CTU. Remember when like 80% of the show was either Jack in the field or goings-on at CTU? Sigh.
Still not a ton of action.
No Fayed.
The stricter security measures storyline isn't really going anywhere. I guess it could affect Nadia again at some point.
Best scene:
Jack cutting off Markhov's finger! Although it would have been better to see it drop to the floor. Or at least hear a thud and a roll. And why stop at one? Three Fingers or No Thumbs makes a much better nickname than Nine Fingers.
Understatement of the hour:
"Bill, this is Jack. I've got a situation here."
Did you know...
Four out of five special agents chose the cigar cutter as their preferred finger removal device.
This week's Did You Know is brought to you by La Carolina Torpito authentic Cuban cigars. You'll think you've died and gone to Havana.
Questions:
Who else was in on the assassination plot? Tom said Reed seemed to indicate there were others involved.
Will Palmer return, and when? And WWDD? What will Daniels do?
In the scenes from next week, was that Aaron Pierce with the former First Lady?!?! Are they bringing Pierce back?! I don't think I'll be able to contain myself.
"What's the d-d-d-deal? What's the d-d-d-deal? What's the d-d-d-dealio, the dealio..."
Monday, March 05, 2007
If they take my stapler, I'll set the building on fire
I started to begin today by thanking everyone who participated in the first-ever Roast-A-Bone. But do you thank people for roasting you? I'm not sure, so let me just commend you all on a job... done :) I know it was all in fun and fortunately, I've managed to locate all but two of you on google maps...
This weekend, I saw something I'd never seen and did something I haven't done in at least twenty-five years. Quite a teaser, huh? And no, the answers aren't "a Carrot Top routine that made me laugh" and "peed the bed." Although those would fit the criteria had I done them.
Let's start with the thing I haven't done in at least twenty-five years...
This weekend, I flew a kite. A three-dollar Spiderman kite. As the other choices at Wal-Mart were Pokemon or Care Bears.
Two thoughts on kite flying: Now I understand the phrase "go fly a kite" a bit better. Because really, after you get it up in the air, you're just kind of standing there holding a string, looking skyward at a flimsy piece of plastic flapping in the wind for an undetermined amount of time.
Second, I was a bit hesitant about hanging out with the "kite people." Anytime, I've ever seen anyone flying a kite, it's either been a parent with their kids or some grown man, poorly dressed, usually by himself. (And before you ask, I was well-dressed.) The latter group is what I refer to as "kite people." You don't really see a lot of hot 25-year-old women flying kites by themselves.
I did meet a kite person. How do I know he was a kite person? Well for starters, he had a case for his kite. He was flying what he called a "stunt kite," which he controlled with two different strings, and reportedly cost around $300. It sounded like what I would imagine a swarm of locusts might sound like. And when it crashed, it hit the ground with such a thud, I imagined it could kill, or at least severely injure.
That led to the most amusing part of the conversation:
Kite guy: "I've been hit by one of these before."
"Where?"
"At an event."
"They have events?"
"Yeah. Twenty-five or thirty people come. They have competitions and categories for different stunts."
"I bet it's only guys there."
"No, there were a few girls, actually."
"Yeah, kite groupies."
(/end kite story)
And as for the thing I'd never seen...
I finally watched Office Space this weekend. How is it that someone who supposedly knows lots about pop culture is just now seeing this movie? That's a good question. But movies are the one area where I've always kind of lagged. Sports, music, television, I'm your man. But movies, not so much. Besides, no one bothered to tell me Jennifer Aniston is in it!
Anyway, I saw it. And it was hilarious as advertised. So please forgive me if for the next few weeks, I'm dropping references and laughing at things most of you probably laughed at like eight years ago.
It's impossible to pick my favorite scene or line, but I thoroughly enjoyed this:
"Well, I generally come in at least fifteen minutes late. Uh, I use the side door. That way Lumburg can't see me. And, uh, after that I just sorta space out for about an hour."
"Uhh, space out?"
"Yeah, I just stare at my desk. But it looks like I'm working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch, too. I'd say in a given week, I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual work."
This movie also raises some interesting, relevant questions. I've come up with three to ponder:
1. What would you do if you had a million dollars and didn't have to work?
2. What exactly do you do all day?
3. How much time would you estimate you actually spend working during an average day?
So if you could just go ahead and answer those, yeah, that'd be great. Feel free to answer anonymously in order to avoid being fired. That's all for now. Hope no one has a case of the Mondays. And remember, Friday is Hawaiian Shirt Day.
"There's a kite blowing out of control on the breeze. I wonder what's gonna happen to you. You wonder what has happened to me..."
This weekend, I saw something I'd never seen and did something I haven't done in at least twenty-five years. Quite a teaser, huh? And no, the answers aren't "a Carrot Top routine that made me laugh" and "peed the bed." Although those would fit the criteria had I done them.
Let's start with the thing I haven't done in at least twenty-five years...
This weekend, I flew a kite. A three-dollar Spiderman kite. As the other choices at Wal-Mart were Pokemon or Care Bears.
Two thoughts on kite flying: Now I understand the phrase "go fly a kite" a bit better. Because really, after you get it up in the air, you're just kind of standing there holding a string, looking skyward at a flimsy piece of plastic flapping in the wind for an undetermined amount of time.
Second, I was a bit hesitant about hanging out with the "kite people." Anytime, I've ever seen anyone flying a kite, it's either been a parent with their kids or some grown man, poorly dressed, usually by himself. (And before you ask, I was well-dressed.) The latter group is what I refer to as "kite people." You don't really see a lot of hot 25-year-old women flying kites by themselves.
I did meet a kite person. How do I know he was a kite person? Well for starters, he had a case for his kite. He was flying what he called a "stunt kite," which he controlled with two different strings, and reportedly cost around $300. It sounded like what I would imagine a swarm of locusts might sound like. And when it crashed, it hit the ground with such a thud, I imagined it could kill, or at least severely injure.
That led to the most amusing part of the conversation:
Kite guy: "I've been hit by one of these before."
"Where?"
"At an event."
"They have events?"
"Yeah. Twenty-five or thirty people come. They have competitions and categories for different stunts."
"I bet it's only guys there."
"No, there were a few girls, actually."
"Yeah, kite groupies."
(/end kite story)
And as for the thing I'd never seen...
I finally watched Office Space this weekend. How is it that someone who supposedly knows lots about pop culture is just now seeing this movie? That's a good question. But movies are the one area where I've always kind of lagged. Sports, music, television, I'm your man. But movies, not so much. Besides, no one bothered to tell me Jennifer Aniston is in it!
Anyway, I saw it. And it was hilarious as advertised. So please forgive me if for the next few weeks, I'm dropping references and laughing at things most of you probably laughed at like eight years ago.
It's impossible to pick my favorite scene or line, but I thoroughly enjoyed this:
"Well, I generally come in at least fifteen minutes late. Uh, I use the side door. That way Lumburg can't see me. And, uh, after that I just sorta space out for about an hour."
"Uhh, space out?"
"Yeah, I just stare at my desk. But it looks like I'm working. I do that for probably another hour after lunch, too. I'd say in a given week, I probably only do about fifteen minutes of real, actual work."
This movie also raises some interesting, relevant questions. I've come up with three to ponder:
1. What would you do if you had a million dollars and didn't have to work?
2. What exactly do you do all day?
3. How much time would you estimate you actually spend working during an average day?
So if you could just go ahead and answer those, yeah, that'd be great. Feel free to answer anonymously in order to avoid being fired. That's all for now. Hope no one has a case of the Mondays. And remember, Friday is Hawaiian Shirt Day.
"There's a kite blowing out of control on the breeze. I wonder what's gonna happen to you. You wonder what has happened to me..."
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Roast-A-Bone
Hello and welcome to the first-ever Roast-A-Bone (he made me say that). I'm your host, Pia Savage, of Courting Destiny. This is probably the first roast in history where the roastee (Bone) asked the roaster (me) to roast him. Then he attempted to edit it...
Bone's not a trophy comment whore. Not Bone who emails: "I can't write. It's so bad. I'm so nervous. I posted."
I click on his blog and there are three comments already. Really, Bone, I thought I was your mentor and thus you would show it or complain to me first.
In Bonese, "mentor" is "tor" which reminds me of "tart" which is "puta" in olde English or something, and Bone does refer to me as a puta a bit too often.
Actually our 'torship began with a comment:
"Good blogging. Keep it up." Normally I would have deleted a generic comment, but I always go to the URL and must have loved it, because I think Bone is the grossest screen name. And I won't even begin to go into littlenibbler.
This man wants to be taken seriously as a writer?
IT is BETTER THAN HIS all caps days where the caps were in certain words and made sense to Bone, I guess. I was just being lazy--they're more randomly spread out. Though I'm sure that Bone has a good explanation.
He just won't explain. Trying to get information out of Bone is.. well, I think that Bone is really a North Korean secret service agent, though I know he's Caucasian and his Alabaman roots run deep. He's at least a second generation Bama fan. Gets it from his mother.
Bone is a trophy son who makes sure to visit his rapidly aging parents regularly, before it's too late. They're in their 50's.
Bone googles and wikipedias as a lifestyle. He knows more useless information than anybody I know. But does he apply this knowledge to anything bigger such as an article to be submitted somewhere? Does he even think that he's ready for prime time blogging?
"I didn't have any writing classes. I can't write. No, really, this time I can't..."
Duh, he of the perfectly useless information posts that are fun to read, and the 24 recaps. He's ready. But will he?
Bone knows that his readership might go up if he changes his screen name. Bone's been looking for a new screen name, and URL, but can't decide on either. He claims he will when he changes host companies. And that day is...?
He's so decisive he stayed with Blogger until they forced him to go Beta, and he almost lost the contents of IYROOBTY. I believe his love for that anagram has something to do with his love for numbers. I get so nervous when I email him, I spell check everything twice.
Not that he would say something directly. More like tell you about his innate copy editing abilities and how much misspelled words hurt.
When you ask him a question that he doesn't want to answer:
"My memory. You know my memory."
I first knew Bone when he was 32, and have always thought that he's going through early dementia or was in a tragic accident, ala Jason Morgan of GH.
However, Bone can remember every scene in every Seinfeld. I know that he has it confused with a reality show. And while sometimes I think it best to leave him to his delusions just in case either of the above are true, I tell him the truth anyway. As somebody who has intimate personal knowledge of the Upper West Side, I can. Actually I think that's the reason Bone became friendly with me. I speak Larry David, but not as well, and as a girl.
You know how Bones loves GH and chick flicks? I had to see Music & Lyrics as I know his taste and decide whether or not he would like it.
Have to say he's got the comment thing down since "good blogging..." He's a cult leader who inspires Bonettes onto more and more comments in the same thread.
He gets comments before he writes a post. That's not normal. And usually impossible. Bone manages to do it :)
Oh gawd, I'm the one handing out the kool aid. I am his biggest pimp or whatever they call it in cult worlds.
Bone's a bachelor in Northwest Alabama who devotes his spare time to everything online and somehow believes he will find his Laura, of Luke &... if he just plays one more hand of Texas hold 'em. Not that Bone gambles.
We cribbed the date test from Shayna's blog. Bone was so proud of being The False Messiah, he wrote a post about it, and it's kinda in the running for new screen name. But since the point is to attract people...
If you like False Messiah as a screen name let him know. Several months ago I sent him a list of possible screen names that he would probably like. He claimed that he couldn't use any of them. A few weeks ago he sent me possible new screen names. Yes, the ones that I sent that he couldn't possibly use were included.
Bone hates to hurt. You have to weed out of him anything he might not like: To make a long story short, if you send him something to read, he will email back that he likes it. Five emails later it turns out that he loved three lines in the middle and none of the rest.
Bone likes to keep his private life compartmentalized. He's a very private person, and that's good. But sometimes: "Haven't we discussed this?"
No, Bone, we hadn't. You know, your memory.
Bone has roasted me. He forgot when the roast was over, and kept those roasting comments coming. Yes, Bone, I know. You are so Jason Morgan, without the money or the mobster connections.
Let me hand y'all a Bone to roast.
"But, oh, the girl, she fooled me this time. She acted like I was the last thing on her mind. I would like to start all over again. Baby, can I change my mind? I just want to change my mind..."
Bone's not a trophy comment whore. Not Bone who emails: "I can't write. It's so bad. I'm so nervous. I posted."
I click on his blog and there are three comments already. Really, Bone, I thought I was your mentor and thus you would show it or complain to me first.
In Bonese, "mentor" is "tor" which reminds me of "tart" which is "puta" in olde English or something, and Bone does refer to me as a puta a bit too often.
Actually our 'torship began with a comment:
"Good blogging. Keep it up." Normally I would have deleted a generic comment, but I always go to the URL and must have loved it, because I think Bone is the grossest screen name. And I won't even begin to go into littlenibbler.
This man wants to be taken seriously as a writer?
IT is BETTER THAN HIS all caps days where the caps were in certain words and made sense to Bone, I guess. I was just being lazy--they're more randomly spread out. Though I'm sure that Bone has a good explanation.
He just won't explain. Trying to get information out of Bone is.. well, I think that Bone is really a North Korean secret service agent, though I know he's Caucasian and his Alabaman roots run deep. He's at least a second generation Bama fan. Gets it from his mother.
Bone is a trophy son who makes sure to visit his rapidly aging parents regularly, before it's too late. They're in their 50's.
Bone googles and wikipedias as a lifestyle. He knows more useless information than anybody I know. But does he apply this knowledge to anything bigger such as an article to be submitted somewhere? Does he even think that he's ready for prime time blogging?
"I didn't have any writing classes. I can't write. No, really, this time I can't..."
Duh, he of the perfectly useless information posts that are fun to read, and the 24 recaps. He's ready. But will he?
Bone knows that his readership might go up if he changes his screen name. Bone's been looking for a new screen name, and URL, but can't decide on either. He claims he will when he changes host companies. And that day is...?
He's so decisive he stayed with Blogger until they forced him to go Beta, and he almost lost the contents of IYROOBTY. I believe his love for that anagram has something to do with his love for numbers. I get so nervous when I email him, I spell check everything twice.
Not that he would say something directly. More like tell you about his innate copy editing abilities and how much misspelled words hurt.
When you ask him a question that he doesn't want to answer:
"My memory. You know my memory."
I first knew Bone when he was 32, and have always thought that he's going through early dementia or was in a tragic accident, ala Jason Morgan of GH.
However, Bone can remember every scene in every Seinfeld. I know that he has it confused with a reality show. And while sometimes I think it best to leave him to his delusions just in case either of the above are true, I tell him the truth anyway. As somebody who has intimate personal knowledge of the Upper West Side, I can. Actually I think that's the reason Bone became friendly with me. I speak Larry David, but not as well, and as a girl.
You know how Bones loves GH and chick flicks? I had to see Music & Lyrics as I know his taste and decide whether or not he would like it.
Have to say he's got the comment thing down since "good blogging..." He's a cult leader who inspires Bonettes onto more and more comments in the same thread.
He gets comments before he writes a post. That's not normal. And usually impossible. Bone manages to do it :)
Oh gawd, I'm the one handing out the kool aid. I am his biggest pimp or whatever they call it in cult worlds.
Bone's a bachelor in Northwest Alabama who devotes his spare time to everything online and somehow believes he will find his Laura, of Luke &... if he just plays one more hand of Texas hold 'em. Not that Bone gambles.
We cribbed the date test from Shayna's blog. Bone was so proud of being The False Messiah, he wrote a post about it, and it's kinda in the running for new screen name. But since the point is to attract people...
If you like False Messiah as a screen name let him know. Several months ago I sent him a list of possible screen names that he would probably like. He claimed that he couldn't use any of them. A few weeks ago he sent me possible new screen names. Yes, the ones that I sent that he couldn't possibly use were included.
Bone hates to hurt. You have to weed out of him anything he might not like: To make a long story short, if you send him something to read, he will email back that he likes it. Five emails later it turns out that he loved three lines in the middle and none of the rest.
Bone likes to keep his private life compartmentalized. He's a very private person, and that's good. But sometimes: "Haven't we discussed this?"
No, Bone, we hadn't. You know, your memory.
Bone has roasted me. He forgot when the roast was over, and kept those roasting comments coming. Yes, Bone, I know. You are so Jason Morgan, without the money or the mobster connections.
Let me hand y'all a Bone to roast.
"But, oh, the girl, she fooled me this time. She acted like I was the last thing on her mind. I would like to start all over again. Baby, can I change my mind? I just want to change my mind..."
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