junior or emma goldman?
okay, i never blog, but then sometimes i see a chart like the one in this discussion, and i think, wow, americans would be a bunch of commies if they could! if only we weren’t so, um, distracted?!
no, but seriously, two more days until the jersey shore finale! also, i’m pretty excited that i might be having a burrito for lunch today… wait — what were we talking about?
on occasion i’ve been able to impress and horrify my friends with my vast knowledge of protestant christian hymns. i know the words and the melodies, and can even (probably!) still play them on the piano. if measured against the other drunks at the bar, i assume i’d test in the 99th percentile on church-hymn trivia.
so i’ve got that going for me, i guess.
but then i found a hymn that was new to even me. it’s not exactly “onward christian soldiers,” but it is pretty wonderful. in fact, if the church choir ever takes me back, of all the hymns i already know, i think this is the one i’ll want to sing.
(hat tip to boingboing.net)
there is a lot of snow in new york, and when i took junior out yesterday morning for a walk around the block, the snow hadn’t yet been shoveled, and she quickly disappeared in a drift, burrowing along like a groundhog until she found a place acceptable to pee…
but in a recent comic i implied that junior eats her poo. that wasn’t fair. junior doesn’t eat poo, and though she did once or twice as a puppy (about 50 dog years ago), it’s not something she would do today.
however, for all her good looks, junior can still be pretty disgusting.
there are many nights when i wake up to the sounds of her farts. junior’s farts are long and sad, and loud enough to wake me up. the mother in me immediately wants to jump out of bed and hold her, comfort her, promise my little dogdaughter it’ll be alright — no living thing, yet alone my offspring, should fart that sad.
but the father in me usually yells at her and goes back to sleep.
and though my dog can be disgusting, she is nothing compared to charlie sheen. for all his good looks, charlie sheen is a sad and disgusting fart. and despite all his money and fame, his fans and success, i can’t help but feel that charlie sheen is lost in the world, and someday when he dies, he will die alone and sad.
of course, they’ll find his dead body under a pile of coked-out strippers, but, nonetheless, alone, if not exactly in a literal way.
“i want a french bulldog,” the woman said.
we were standing next to each other at the bar. i had been drinking for awhile.
“i have an english bulldog,” i offered, “and i’m teaching her french.”
she looked at me with interest.
“but she’s a really, really slow learner,” i said, “really slow.”
i could see she was disappointed. she didn’t say anything, and i didn’t say anything, and eventually she turned and walked away.
i finished my drink and went home to quiz my dog on verb conjugations.
after five or six coffees this morning, it hit me that i really needed to do something new with my life. something more than before. something better, something exciting, make some crazy changes, but what?
i wrote a silly poem and put it on tumblr.
then i ordered a scanner for my computer, so i can put silly drawings on tumblr.
this was a lot of change all at once. i started doing jumping jacks, which helped. i’m not getting any younger, and if i don’t start putting silly drawings on tumblr soon, i might never get the chance.
‘cause things change.
wednesday was a snow day at the office, so i went to the movies, where it was not a snow day at all, and watched “blue valentine,” a wonderful, intensely sad film. the movie is about a couple’s relationship, and how the relationship changed the way relationships always seem to change. and though love turns to hate, sometimes, at least it’s accompanied by a really nice song.
i’m listening to it on repeat until my scanner arrives.