As you may have noticed, I deleted the previous post (and a couple others) from the site. They are now sitting in an “undisclosed location” as the cloak-and-dagger types here in DC are so fond of saying. Said location will house any posts dealing with personal matters such as existential angst, certain aspects of life in DC, the work scenario, and planning for the future.

This drama purge allows me the opportunity to redevote this site to the very serious business of tossing off anecdotes, telling stories, posting pics and videos, and making fun of Wawa, the Iron Sheik, et al. And of course, the Warrior. Check this shit out LOL. I’m so dorksided.

Putting the Warrior in slo-mo, like a record at 33RPM, brings up a tainted image in my head: Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs (”put the f%ing lotion in the basket”). Here’s a clip of that. You decide.

It’s Tuesday and it’s been a rough day at the office. Not feeling terribly motivated, I’ve been on the IM with Cranky and she gave me a good idea. Do a meme. Yes. A meme…. a low effort blog posting. Perfect. Here goes …

here is the exercise…
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog and follow these instructions.
5.
Don’t you dare dig for that “cool” or “intellectual” book in your
closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is
closest. (well, the closest book happens to be a cool one in my closet, so….. pppppphhhh)

"In came the hippies then, the trust funders, the freaks, the rootless ones, the middle-class proletariat with their beards and unisex ponytails, all of them, male and female, wearing the same bib overalls, Goodwill workshirts and waffle-stomper boots, all trying to look different in the same way." — Edward Abbey, The Journey Home.

He’s talking about Colorado. Specifically, the old long-time residents getting priced out of Telluride, complete with a vivid, not-so-flattering description of their ski-bum usurpers. Ha! Love it. He goes to talk about how the old ranchers were too preoccupied with the sexual revolution (i.e. getting laid — by real women, not livestock) to quell the disturbances wrought by the hippies and so they all relied on the town marshall to take care of business.

Thanks, Cranky! That wasn’t so tough. So, yeah, I think I may take this book to bed with me ….

So let’s start with the obvious — its hot as hell and the air is tainted. Every time I move from one hermetically sealed, air-conditioned space to another, I rush headlong into an ozone-thick smog, mouth wide open and gasping, my lungs heaving and contracting as if I was sucking in oxygen through a coffee stirrer …

Dorksided stuff. But fortunately, I keep that movement nonsense to a minimum! This human object, once not in motion, tends to stay not in motion. Especially now. As I write this, I’m sprawled out in my undies on the couch in a dark living room, eating cucumbers and dip, and watching foreign newscasts on the international channel.

An Indian report on Bollywood movies cutting back on their musical numbers (aw bad move — clearly a lack of gay midgets calling the shots). Italian footage of bombed-out buildings in Haifa and Lebanon. A Spanish-language version of Deutsche Welle. I really like this channel, MhZ. Just sit there on any given evening and the world flashes by. I like it even more ’cause it comes in through the antenna!

Actually, now it’s switched to Rick Steves in Portugal (" … in Nazaré, somehow the traditions survive and the locals merrily go about their black-shawl ways."). And now he’s eating barnacles. And I’ve got chorizo and pasta to consume. Gotta go.