Leap here...or here, ya hear? Shit, I nearly missed my four posts per month quota. Good thing I'm testing Bud Light Platinum. So far I say it tastes like Bud Light, but it's 6% alcohol by volume. The bottle is a strange blue that brings to mind Zima even though Zima is a clear bottle, but I suppose it might recall that blue label if it were transparent or, more accurately, translucent.
When we think about the gift of getting an extra day in February, it's good to remember that we're really missing out on about a quarter of a day those other three years.
I'm gonna be honest here, I haven't got a lot of material on the brain at this moment, so I'll just send out some positive vibes as we roll into March.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
If It's Dallas Thing I Do...
Well, did, it was go to Dallas. In fact, I'm there right now. You've got to mess around with the emphasis of the syllables in that there title for it to make sense, but once you do I think you'll catch my drift. I haven't really figured this city out since I've only spent about three days here, much of it in a hotel room, but there's plenty to like. Things or at least one thing that will prevent it from being a city I consider truly livable, is that one must drive everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I haven't experimented with public transit, and maybe it's not bad, but the fact remains you won't be doing much pedestrianing. There are dedicated paved paths that have been put in for pedestrians, runners, and cyclists, but it's still a sprawling metropolis. It's no real knock, it's just compared to what I have encountered, and enjoy, in other cities.
I've got a lot of Valentine-related wordplay I'm itching to lay down but I did already lay it down pretty thick on Twitter. That said, if you've ever read this blog description and my profile, we're not really talking the first time I've committed some redundancy. See also: many of my posts.
At any rate, folks down here in Dallas are really friendly, which is nice, because in spite of being a griping grumpus on here from time-to-time, I'm a pretty friendly individual. I have the benefit of staying awfully near Highland Park, which could also be considered not a benefit depending on how you view things. It's lush and wealthy and thus safe – and man is there a lot of high school pride [t]here – but that also makes it completely unrealistic as a place I'd ever be capable of living. Still, I enjoyed taking a jaunt out through the neighborhoods and seeing the amazing properties. Yes, many are huge, but the architecture tends to be tasteful, which you can't say of a lot of large homes. These go behind homes though, and cross into the hacienda realm.
I did venture out to far less lustrous segments that comprise the actual city, although that has been my strange feeling: I don't know in some ways where the city actually is. Highland Park is a town it's own, yes, but the parts I have wandered in trips and in runs, I hardly known if I truly have been in the Dallas confines. I think I did run out to East Dallas today, but cardinally challenged as I am at the moment, suffice to say that, wherever it was, it was not the place to be.
Though it isn't particularly valenkind, I'm going to jot down a few more valenlines. Those are for jotting and not for snorting, although after those some red liquid might be reporting. Really I'm feeling quite valenfine, not at all in a pickle or valenbrined. About the day I cannot valenwhine, for I enjoyed great valenwhine, and also some bourbon at the valentime that I did valendine. Vaguely here you see valenrhymes, some of which are lackluster, a few which valenshine, and none of which earn me one single valendime. For that I'd have to do some real valengrime, though nothing that would earn me a valenfine. You'll note that I used that last one already, but the meaning was different, so please, hold steady. It's about time I rode the valenpine, since I've nothing too earth-shattering like a valenmine. As the silence does settle, enter the valenmime, and now I believe I'm in a valenbind. Not many other options can I think of at this time, leaving me really quite valenblind. Really that's all that I care to compose: thanks for the memories Dallas, with that I close.
I've got a lot of Valentine-related wordplay I'm itching to lay down but I did already lay it down pretty thick on Twitter. That said, if you've ever read this blog description and my profile, we're not really talking the first time I've committed some redundancy. See also: many of my posts.
At any rate, folks down here in Dallas are really friendly, which is nice, because in spite of being a griping grumpus on here from time-to-time, I'm a pretty friendly individual. I have the benefit of staying awfully near Highland Park, which could also be considered not a benefit depending on how you view things. It's lush and wealthy and thus safe – and man is there a lot of high school pride [t]here – but that also makes it completely unrealistic as a place I'd ever be capable of living. Still, I enjoyed taking a jaunt out through the neighborhoods and seeing the amazing properties. Yes, many are huge, but the architecture tends to be tasteful, which you can't say of a lot of large homes. These go behind homes though, and cross into the hacienda realm.
I did venture out to far less lustrous segments that comprise the actual city, although that has been my strange feeling: I don't know in some ways where the city actually is. Highland Park is a town it's own, yes, but the parts I have wandered in trips and in runs, I hardly known if I truly have been in the Dallas confines. I think I did run out to East Dallas today, but cardinally challenged as I am at the moment, suffice to say that, wherever it was, it was not the place to be.
Though it isn't particularly valenkind, I'm going to jot down a few more valenlines. Those are for jotting and not for snorting, although after those some red liquid might be reporting. Really I'm feeling quite valenfine, not at all in a pickle or valenbrined. About the day I cannot valenwhine, for I enjoyed great valenwhine, and also some bourbon at the valentime that I did valendine. Vaguely here you see valenrhymes, some of which are lackluster, a few which valenshine, and none of which earn me one single valendime. For that I'd have to do some real valengrime, though nothing that would earn me a valenfine. You'll note that I used that last one already, but the meaning was different, so please, hold steady. It's about time I rode the valenpine, since I've nothing too earth-shattering like a valenmine. As the silence does settle, enter the valenmime, and now I believe I'm in a valenbind. Not many other options can I think of at this time, leaving me really quite valenblind. Really that's all that I care to compose: thanks for the memories Dallas, with that I close.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Valenmime's Day
Valenmime's, the day for silent admiration and appreciation of that special person(s) in your life, complete with a little face paint, and maybe a stripey shirt. Don't worry, my punny brain aggravates me more than it possibly can you, what with my being unable to take a respite from it. I suppose I don't pun in my sleep, but even there I'm not entirely sure.
At any right the tines of valen are upon us tomorrow and we can look forward to heart-shaped boxes and other heart-shaped paraphernalia. It should be noted that paraphernalia carries with it, at least to me, awfully dirty connotations. It just means the stuff and things necessary to do certain things and stuff but I guess I tend to put a silent [drug] in front of it. Not that all drugs are bad...Some pop artists have been known to contend that someone's love is their drug.
When links change or go down, this blog is going to make even less sense with all of the free associating going on.
As I have mentioned in here before, I'm not much of one for St. Valentine and his associated holiday, but rare is the one ambivalent to its celebration. People seem to be really into it, or violently against. I used to come closer to the latter, but each day I crawl a little closer to the who-gives-a-shit camp. Camps getting pretty crowded! If you're a superficial piece of shit, chances are you'll want, or do, some superficial shit tomorrow. If you're a sentimental piece of shit, chances are you'll want, or do, some sentimental shit tomorrow. If you're a curmudgeonly piece of shit, chances are you'll be rather curmudgeonly.
That seems like enough for now. Don't worry, I'll be back on this same website, different IP address soon. Anytime I am out of town I like to get in a little blogging from said place. Thanks for listening google!
Oh, and how bad was Adam Levine trying to sing a Beach Boys song at the Grammy's? Pretty bad. Some will contend there was worse going on I am sure, but I didn't catch much of the program, and this was bad. Then he held the microphone like a sheepish mf when meant to sing with the band. Kind of like the drunk that shouts for attention and, when they receive it, realizes the spotlight generates a lot of heat and you might in fact need to do something when it's there. What else was there to do, smile knowingly and shake his head? Or perhaps not to go round thinking precisely so highly of himself. But hey, I don't know the guy, I just know that was the kind of off-key rendition you could expect from me.
And on that note, I'm out.
At any right the tines of valen are upon us tomorrow and we can look forward to heart-shaped boxes and other heart-shaped paraphernalia. It should be noted that paraphernalia carries with it, at least to me, awfully dirty connotations. It just means the stuff and things necessary to do certain things and stuff but I guess I tend to put a silent [drug] in front of it. Not that all drugs are bad...Some pop artists have been known to contend that someone's love is their drug.
When links change or go down, this blog is going to make even less sense with all of the free associating going on.
As I have mentioned in here before, I'm not much of one for St. Valentine and his associated holiday, but rare is the one ambivalent to its celebration. People seem to be really into it, or violently against. I used to come closer to the latter, but each day I crawl a little closer to the who-gives-a-shit camp. Camps getting pretty crowded! If you're a superficial piece of shit, chances are you'll want, or do, some superficial shit tomorrow. If you're a sentimental piece of shit, chances are you'll want, or do, some sentimental shit tomorrow. If you're a curmudgeonly piece of shit, chances are you'll be rather curmudgeonly.
That seems like enough for now. Don't worry, I'll be back on this same website, different IP address soon. Anytime I am out of town I like to get in a little blogging from said place. Thanks for listening google!
Oh, and how bad was Adam Levine trying to sing a Beach Boys song at the Grammy's? Pretty bad. Some will contend there was worse going on I am sure, but I didn't catch much of the program, and this was bad. Then he held the microphone like a sheepish mf when meant to sing with the band. Kind of like the drunk that shouts for attention and, when they receive it, realizes the spotlight generates a lot of heat and you might in fact need to do something when it's there. What else was there to do, smile knowingly and shake his head? Or perhaps not to go round thinking precisely so highly of himself. But hey, I don't know the guy, I just know that was the kind of off-key rendition you could expect from me.
And on that note, I'm out.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Film Real
At times I will find myself watching a movie, enjoying it, and then stepping back – either during or shortly after – and assessing how unrealistic certain characters and behaviors are. And then, every now and then, I observe a person in real life that one of these screenwriters must have met or known. If not this person directly, then the sort of carbon copy or cookie cut that exists somewhere. The one we pretend we aren't. There's nobody like me. But no no, Adele will find someone like you.
The creature in question, which is really an unfair characterization because this woman is incredibly nice, is just overflowing with bubbly positivity. Why is it that, when this goes too far, it comes across as neurosis and borderline insanity? Why am I getting so aggravatingly introspective in this here blog of late? Gotta be the winter weather. It's cool, just blame shit. But seriously, every action is so emphatic, from her enunciation of "uh-huh", to the hand motions, the head movement. She is so well-meaning, so honest, and it's so...frightening...And it's a date! Sometimes I'm not sure whether to blame these people for going on coffee shop dates and talking so loud, or to blame myself for going to these places and, well, let's be honest, listening in here and there. I can only take so much before my headphones go in.
Groundhog Day has come and gone, which I'm sure Bill Murray is thrilled about. I guess the little dude out in Pennsylvania saw his shadow and there will continue to be weather for as many days as this planet survives, which is longer than me, so long as those 2012 doomsdayers are incorrect.
But I do like Groundhog Day, even if only for spawning that film. The concept of living the same day with a different consciousness and getting it right, and coming to grips with the monotony and lows of our lives and taking time to focus on some of the right things is great, but I often like to then arrive on the tangent of someone living your day and your life somewhere. Which is why this crazy bitch in this coffee shop can be written about so well by someone who has never met this exact her. She's everywhere, and nowhere.
I'm stoked for the Super Bowl tomorrow, where the best advertisement is sure to be for our love of loafing, drinking, and consuming unhealthy foods while rejoicing in the athleticism of others and, for too many, advertising itself. Since I'm so down on advertising, I'll note that advertisement sounds decidedly less evil if you give it the British pronunciation, a soft 'i' in the middle – tis a way for me to cope.
I can't believe this sweatshirt is already pilling!
The creature in question, which is really an unfair characterization because this woman is incredibly nice, is just overflowing with bubbly positivity. Why is it that, when this goes too far, it comes across as neurosis and borderline insanity? Why am I getting so aggravatingly introspective in this here blog of late? Gotta be the winter weather. It's cool, just blame shit. But seriously, every action is so emphatic, from her enunciation of "uh-huh", to the hand motions, the head movement. She is so well-meaning, so honest, and it's so...frightening...And it's a date! Sometimes I'm not sure whether to blame these people for going on coffee shop dates and talking so loud, or to blame myself for going to these places and, well, let's be honest, listening in here and there. I can only take so much before my headphones go in.
Groundhog Day has come and gone, which I'm sure Bill Murray is thrilled about. I guess the little dude out in Pennsylvania saw his shadow and there will continue to be weather for as many days as this planet survives, which is longer than me, so long as those 2012 doomsdayers are incorrect.
But I do like Groundhog Day, even if only for spawning that film. The concept of living the same day with a different consciousness and getting it right, and coming to grips with the monotony and lows of our lives and taking time to focus on some of the right things is great, but I often like to then arrive on the tangent of someone living your day and your life somewhere. Which is why this crazy bitch in this coffee shop can be written about so well by someone who has never met this exact her. She's everywhere, and nowhere.
I'm stoked for the Super Bowl tomorrow, where the best advertisement is sure to be for our love of loafing, drinking, and consuming unhealthy foods while rejoicing in the athleticism of others and, for too many, advertising itself. Since I'm so down on advertising, I'll note that advertisement sounds decidedly less evil if you give it the British pronunciation, a soft 'i' in the middle – tis a way for me to cope.
I can't believe this sweatshirt is already pilling!
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