A few quickies not worth an entire blog:
1. Why did Aerosmith get to write so many songs about vaginas?
2. Speaking of songs, if Jay does successfully learn to play the guitar, do you think he’ll write many different songs about his penis, or do you think he’ll take the Axl Rose path and strive for years to write one perfect, epic rock ballad about his penis?
3. Once people in this country can finally get gay married can we start work on forcing those little Nazi kids to finally give the Twix rabbit some cereal? I know this isn't a new revelation, but I really do hate those commercials. Though perhaps legalizing pot should take precedence over the Twix rabbit. After all, you'd think legal pot could only help people agree to give rabbits cereal.
4. I just watched the first season of “Life” via a dvd set borrowed from an annoying co-worker (the trading card guy). It focuses on a detective, recently released from twelve years of wrongful incarceration, who solves shamefully easy cases while eating fruit and spouting zen. It’s frighteningly realistic. Some have even commented that it is an almost picture perfect documentary of my life. However, these people ignore a few subtle differences. For instance, I may enjoy fruit, but I certainly haven’t based a character quirk around it, and I am much more interested by Buddhist philosophy than Zen (though the two beliefs do tend to intersect). Also, I’m not a detective. Or rich or handsome or interesting. Other than that, I must say that I do see the similarities.
Blog Part II: My fiancée is cheap. That is, in the “thrifty” sense of the word, not the “trampy” sense.
I will state my case using examples from the past two days only. I’ll start small and get bigger, like my bedroom behavior but in reverse (if you want, I’ll even stay awake and cuddle after):
Yesterday she flat out refused to buy me Fruity Pebbles, because she feels they are exorbitantly priced—not that she said that. She just looked back and forth between me and the price tag saying “Ouch!” and “Geez!” until I said I didn’t want them anymore. Postnote: She then bought a $1.00 donut because she wanted half of it. And I know I can buy my own cereal, but that’s not the point. This is a woman who gets money from scratch tickets and immediately “re-invests” the money into additional, non-winning, scratch tickets.
This one is about two weeks old, but she recently spent an afternoon shopping for a Valentine’s Day card before deciding they were all too expensive and making one with folded typing paper and a black ink pen instead. Though, to be fair, that card was legitimately awesome.
Saturday Jamie decided that she needed to save money and cut the dog’s hair herself. The results were tragic and irreversible:
(It looks much worse in person)
I’ll admit this might be a little unfair. There is a chance Jamie’s not cheap, just insane. To wit:
While I was taking my bi-monthly Sunday night shower, Jamie screamed “Do you love me?” and then fell off of the toilet. She was standing on it in an attempt to dump a glass of cold water on me. I told her that absolutely no part of me would find anything funny about that gag, and she responded with giggling and an excited “I know!”
Yesterday she shouted “come here and let me pet you, you little bitch!” to our dog and then interrupted the movie I was watching to incorrectly sing “You’re the Wind Beneath My Wings” four feet from my face.
And then there's this, which I won't explain. Just know it wouldn't have happened without Jamie's fervent insistence:
Well, you'll have to imagine your own closing line now, because I'm going to go make a sandwich with three different kinds of meat.
