Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Oil for Food Program

Here in the northern territories, we hesitantly enter golf season. For instance, Mother Nature poured about 8 inches of snow in a blizzard onto the local course where I usually play on Saturday. Of course, there are those zealots who never stopped playing; and there was a time way before the turn of the century when I was counted in those numbers. I like to play golf; and I've been called on to be the "ringer" by a lot of friends and acquaintances when they play for money or prizes, which is pretty cool, I must say.

Switching gears here, there has been a big hubbub going on over the humanitarian "oil for food" program that was being conducted in Iraq after the Gulf War and before the present war. A Texas oilman was recently indicted for giving kickbacks to Saddam Hussein and his henchmen. You may infer what you like from the fact that the guy is from Texas and that he was in the oil business. I think this deal-making has Bush fingerprints all over it. Does anyone recall the Iran-Contra affair orchestrated by the CIA, which was a scam run by George Bush the Dad, the director of the CIA?

Let's not get into all of the problems of graft and corruption, which seem to be standard operating procedure in nation building. How about Dick Cheney and Halliburton and bribery in Nigeria? We haven't heard much on that front lately.

So, I would like to embark on my "golf for food" program. There can be no doubt that golf can play a great role in advancing your career or it can be a pleasant, peaceful diversion from that same stressful career path. But golf lessons by PGA professionals can be extremely costly and burdensome time-wise. Group lessons, while less expensive, can be intimidating or even embarrassing; and group lessons do not give you the one-on-one attention that is necessary for speedy improvement. In addition, professionals lack significant understanding of the needs and desires of the beginner, together with the necessary compassion. You will end up being a funny story on the golf pro banquet circuit.

I, on the other hand, am not so arrogant to think that I know everything there is to know about golf; but I do know more than enough to teach the beginner so that the beginner can be comfortable, with some practice, on the golf course. Rather than charge ungodly amounts for lessons, I propose that the golf student house and feed me and my small family for a week in exchange for lessons. Or longer, depending on where you live.

Beating the Meat

This is typical of government. The Department of Homeland Security announced that we are safer today than we were yesterday. In fact, there might be a change in the alert stage from elevated to sea level because the Department of Homeland Security's detection equipment is such that terrorists will no longer be able to board planes with big pieces of meat. I, for one, have been afraid to fly in the last year because technology had not advanced to the point where the X-ray machines could detect lengths of Genoa salami in a carry-on bag which could have been used as weapons of terror. That has all changed with the bologna discovery at the U.S.-Mexican border in a daring seizure by customs agents.

There is still a major a problem, however, in detecting the old terrorist standby -- summer sausage strapped to the inside of one leg.

Since summer is approaching and with national security foremost in mind, I have applied for a Department of Defense grant so that I can train meat-sniffing dogs which will be stationed at each airport, train depot, and bus station to detect illegally-concealed meat weapons. Another item that would be detected by my well-trained meat-sniffing dogs will be weiners strategically concealed in linings or pockets of jackets and coats before boarding to be removed in transit and used by terrorists to simulate guns.

In addition to the national security implications of my project, dogs from dog shelters all over this great land can be used, thus alleviating concerns of dog rescue groups around the country. Furthermore, although anathema to the Bush administration's philosophy, seizures made, instead of being destroyed as was done by U.S. Customs today, will be used to feed the hungry.

Go with Goodyear

Sometimes you're a little heavy with your right foot and your mind wanders and you earn a speeding ticket. It has happened to everyone (except Stacey, of course). And it may just be that when you drive away after being ticketed, you get distracted by a cell phone call and don't see the 25-mile-an-hour zone and the police car sitting on the side of the road and get another speeding ticket.

It's not the end of the world. It might mean a huge increase in your car insurance premiums, which could upset your mother, with whom you're living; but when you tell her, somehow she understands and is not angry. Maybe she was wild when she was younger and sees some similarities.

It's been a good year. After all, you just graduated from high school, bought a cheap used car with your graduation money, got a summer job working part-time before you head off to college, opened a checking account, and bought some new clothes. What could be better? You call the court, just like the nice policeman suggested, and find out you can even pay the tickets by mail, one is only $55 and the other is $81.

The problem arises when you mail your two checks to the court without bothering to learn how to balance a checking account. And the problem gets even more serious when you don't bother to make the checks good when the court sends you a letter asking you politely to pay.

And before you go to the hearing on your bad check charges, don't call your lawyer the night before and ask if it is okay to bring your checkbook to pay your fine.

Cash only, please.

Sunday Comic

"We didn't create the earth but we have an obligation to protect it." -- George W. Bush, President of the United States of America, April 22, 2005.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!! Good one, George. What a knee-slappin' sense of humor!

Turkeys

The state of Ohio allowed hunters to start blasting the heads off two toms as the spring turkey-hunting season began as of Monday. This blog is always chock full of useful information. Why do I say "blasting the heads off" the turkeys? Because DT told me that's how to do it when using a shotgun. And that's the way the Ohio Department of Killing Wildlife says to do it.

DT brought out his turkey decoys last weekend. It was difficult to pose them in the "breeding" position. I think right out of the box, they weren't broken in.

DT was real excited, however, about the bobble head turkey that the guy at the hunting place guaranteed would attract a "big tom." I didn't see it because it was on back order, but he e-mailed me that he set it up by his mailbox to freak out passers-by. I can dig that.

Mercurochrome

A recent study of a group of older Americans (and it is so nice of these pesky scientists to classify me as an older American ... mother fuckers) reports that of those who had elevated mercury levels, even higher than the U.S. government thinks is the limit of safety, did just as well as everyone else on neuropsychological tests. This is a surprising conclusion, since the current thought is that long-term, low-level mercury exposure is linked to an average five-point decrease in IQ among adults. All the older Americans, Baltimoreans to be exact, said that fish and crab cake consumption was their major source of mercury. None pointed to breaking open thermometers and rolling the little balls around on the floor with their fingers as a source of mercury exposure ... or playing with mercury in advanced chemistry class, seeing the many patterns that could be made by slinging a little ball of the liquid metal at the chalkboard while Miss Hofman wasn’t looking.

And none attributed their big loads of heavy metal to the liberal use of Mercurochrome on all kinds of cuts and abrasions in their younger days. There was a time when Mercurochrome or merthiolate was the antibacterial agent of choice of parents and grandparents everywhere. Kids would walk around with red swatches on their arms and legs, and you knew that their parents cared about them. Nobody made fun of them, for they wore badges of honor, having endured the stinging pain of the magic, salubrious elixir, the cheap cure-all of the masses.

The sale of Mercurochrome was banned in the United States in 1992. The ban was not supported by any study concluding the stuff caused mercury poisoning. There is one atom of mercury bound up in the molecule that is the active ingredient in Mercurochrome, and no study has shown that the mercury becomes unbound and poisons the system. The FDA panicked. The FDA would have better served the public by banning the sale of Mercury Mountaineers, which have caused many more health problems than Mercurochrome.

And, in its wisdom, the U.S. government allows power plants to send mercury vapor into the air for all to unwittingly and involuntarily inhale. I find it interesting that at a time when the EPA, by national conservation groups, and the U.S.A., by the international scientific community, are under attack regarding mercury emissions and other pollutants emanating from coal-burning power plants, a study, most likely funded by the U.S. government, arrives at the conclusion that relative mercury levels cause no impairment in human functioning. There’s nothing like muddying the already murky waters of environmental poisoning.

The U.S. position on mercury is inconsistent when it comes to consideration of public health. It is, however, consistent with the Bush administration’s catering to big business and its ignorance of the impact of its policies and philosophy on future generations.

HAIKU

the girl is long gone
but you call her out again
smiling in your eyes.

SPAWN OF THE DEVIL

yeah. she does look cute. but she's trying us. mightily. and we're dog people. DOG PEOPLE.

Twinkies Revisited Out in the Country

On NPR, while driving down to DT's way too early Saturday morning, there was a segment on the 75th anniversary of the Hostess Twinkie, which was an attempt to correct some misperceptions and urban legends about the sugar-and-lard-filled yellow cakes. No need to repeat any of it. What I wanted to point you toward is an old site, which dispels many myths about Twinkies by strict and rigorous scientific testing.

While I was at DT's house burning trees and stuff, we went out to dinner at a rural steak and rib house. I could never find this place by myself. We drove for a long time way out somewhere on winding roads through Amish country. I'm sure that we passed Jimmy Hoffa's grave. We came upon an old house on the side of the road. I can't remember the name of the place. I don't know what road it is on. It is in Ohio somewhere between Indiana and Pennsylvania is all I can tell you.

And that is a good thing because this is a place from where strangers just might disappear. I wondered what would have happened if I ventured into the place alone. Even accompanied by DT and Lee, I got a lot of dagger-like stares from every table, about which Lee had warned me before entering. Two people at different parts of the route to our table in someone's old bedroom, asked DT a question in a dialect incomprensible to me. He told them I was an old friend, which seemed to satisfy them.

Though the sauce for the tender meaty ribs was rather ordinary, the dessert of coconut creme pie was superb and worth the trip. DT's wife, Lee, ordered Mounds pie, which was a coconut cream layer between two chocolate cream layers, all within a flaky pastry crust. The taste I had of that was pretty good. DT had the banana split pie, which disappeared shortly after being put down by our waitress. I didn't get a taste of that, but DT described it as "just" a banana cream pie with bananas, a chocolate layer, and pineapple on the whipped cream topping. And before you get all offended and upset, out in the country, they are still called waitresses, not servers.

So, if you chance upon this place on your travels, please hook up with a local before going into the door; otherwise, we probably won't see you again.

Out in the Country

The slight wind shifted. It did. It was coming directly out of the north. It was. I swear. Then after the fire got going in the brush pile, the breeze came out of the east northeast. After DT left to go check on the progress of the AKC SPO National Championship Beagle Field Trials, parts of which were being conducted on his property, and I was alone. And the wind shifted. I'm not lying.

Just me ... and the fire ... and the huge, fucking tree that was now on fire. Flames were shooting about 20 feet up the trunk of the tree. The tree was smoking about 30 feet up. Nobody ever said anything to me about what to do when you catch a tree on fire. Do I call the fire department or the forest service out here in the country?

I stood there. And watched. Like every good pyromaniac does. A couple mice took a dive to the ground and ran off, coughing little mouse coughs. I didn't know I was supposed to have one of those round things with a bull's-eye that firemen hold when people jump. Of course, for mice, the thingy is smaller. Then DT rode up over the crest of the hill next to the barn on his 4-wheeled ATV. I pointed to the burning tree.

"Thank God we ain't fixin' the roof this weekend," he said.

The New Beetles

Dr. Quentin Wheeler, Natural History Museum, London, assigned the heady responsibility of naming new species of slime-mold beetles, named three newly-discovered species Agathidium bushi, Agathidium cheneyi, and Agathidium rumsfeldi.

Let the jokes begin!!

And has the White House really outsourced the telephone operation to India, as reported?

You can find the phone number for the White House below.

I Lose Another Trial

I'm going down to DT's place for the weekend to finish putting on a roof or to clear out a lot of brush in preparation for planting. In any event, I'll have a much-needed workout. He also e-mailed me about huntin’ varmints. No worries, cat-lovers. He doesn’t live in Wisconsin.

Or in our little suburb. Down the street and around the corner, a guy was arrested for shooting geese inside city limits; it seems that the geese were in his driveway and would not move as he tried to pull his car out. That can get a person mighty upset. Rather than run them down with his car, he pulled out his gun and started shooting at them.

In the mail, I got the decision from the judge who presided over the trial in December of the dispute between the used car dealers. One used car dealer, whom I did not represent, sued two used car dealers, whom I did represent, over a used car lot deal gone bad. We had the trial without a jury because who could believe anybody involved in the case, two lawyers representing used car dealers. Come on. That's fodder for a sitcom.

The other used car dealer said my clients backed out of the deal and that he lost 492,000 dollars in business because my clients backed out. And I admitted that my clients backed out, but that the other used car dealer didn't lose near that amount of money.

The judge found in favor of the other used car dealer and awarded $465.

7 Miles to E

I ran out of gas. Shit, no, not literally. Well, maybe literarily. Not in the car. The red Mitsubitchy 3000GT is again in the shop. And Stacey got a rental. It's got this display: "288 miles to E," when I picked it up at the rental place. So, when I got down to "7 miles to E," I stopped for gas -- kind of fool-proof (What is the origin of that word?). There's nothing like being reminded of my shortcomings every time I get in the fucking car.

But as I was saying, I ran out of gas writing. I think it stems from what is going on here with surgeries and rehab and all that. Last night, I went to a meeting of crazy people, a self-help group, that I have been attending for a while. It's an interesting group; and I do find it helpful.

Someone new to the group filtered in off the street. Her gravel voice betrayed her as an inveterate smoker. And her shock of blond hair didn't contribute as much as she desired to the deception she was attempting to perpetrate on the public about her age. And the little noises she made from time-to-time, like she was agreeing with the speaker, even when nobody in the room was speaking, gave us some idea that there was another voice with which she was conversing.

I noticed something strange when I glanced in her direction. Looking kind of past the guy sitting next to me, I could see her in profile. His nose eclipsed what jewelry she wore on her earlobe, but her right ear, at the top, rather than being smooth and rounded, had a little point, almost like being squared off. Maybe that wasn't so strange, but her right eyebrow was black, drawn on her forehead at a 45 degree angle. She looked rather like a bleached blond T'Pao, with eye make-up and an exaggerated brow.

About a half hour later, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her lean toward the table at which we were seated. She reached into her bag and took out a pair of sunglasses, bluish in color and they wrapped around. To complete the look, I guess.

A GOOD DAY!

today is the best day i've had since january 23rd! i feel pretty good. and i baked! well... i had a little help. kimmy, the daughter of one of my dearest friends, came over to bake with me. check out the "kitchen."

and here's a new picture of bella wrapped around bill. too sweet.

Respect Tradition

"I believe the judiciary branch of our government has overstepped its authority on countless occasions, overturning and in some cases just ignoring the legitimate will of the people." -- House Majority Leader Thomas DeLay (R - TX)

"I am in favor of impeachment ... mass impeachment." -- Michael Schwartz, chief of staff to Senator Tom Coburn (R - OK)

There is a revolution occurring in the United States. And it is not in the streets. It is in the halls of Congress. We have three branches of government, the executive, legislative, and judicial branches. I learned about the system of checks and balances we have in the government in my junior high school government class. We talked about the method those opposed to a bill can use, the filibuster, to delay a vote ... apparently, the many Republicans in the Senate and the President, who, last time I checked, was not a member of Congress, do not appreciate this age-old method that has been around since the beginning of our Republic.

Way back before the turn of the century when the Democrats were in control of both houses of Congress, frustration mounted when Republicans would pass the baton of debate to brother Republicans and talk through the night about whatever they felt like talking about. I don't recall the Senate or the President wanting to change the rules about filibustering. This is the United States of America, and the filibuster is part of the package.

Changing the rules about traditional filibuster and the number of votes for cloture is a fundamental change in the way the government has run for many years, being done to get just a dozen judges appointed. It deprives a traditional power from the minority, allowing the majority to run roughshod over the people they have a duty to serve and the Constitutional system they swore to uphold.

FDR despised the Supreme Court, which struck down much of the New Deal legislation that was designed to stimulate the economy and bring the country out of the Depression. He wanted to add justices to the Supreme Court to get his way. The activist judiciary theory of today sounds strikingly similar to that of the Roosevelt era. And he's the big bad Democrat who brought Social Security into being.

Impeachment of judges for failing to do as Congress wishes is a direct threat to overthrow the system of government, which was designed to have three co-equal branches. So much for the independent judiciary, the elected-for-life judges, who need not fear reprisals by those in power because of the lifetime appointments they receive.

Respect for tradition and the institutions that have served this country well for many generations must be considered so that future generations can depend on the traditions and institutions for stability of government and not government by the whim of a few alarmist zealots who see dangerous conspiracies to topple the Republic where none exist.

YES, I AM TOO A GIRL!

that damned jackson. i called myself a girl last week, and he said, "um, mom, you're not a girl." pfffft. so to prove him wrong, today, i had:

WHO'S UP FOR PIZZA?

wouldn't it be great if any or all of y'all (don't you dare say something 'bout that "y'all," lucy -- i spent A LITTLE childhood time growing up in jacksonville, yaknow!) lived close enough to answer the call and meet us at danny boy's?

if you could, would you?

we'd even PAY!

Tractor Supply Co.

I found the Tractor Supply Co. website while looking for dog medications on-line. I checked out a few things.

Are these Talking dog toys for dogs or people?

Can anyone work these locking pliers? I have been trying to figure out how to work these things for as long as I can remember. I have never been able to get them to work. And there are no instructions provided. I think that a good project would be figuring out how to use them and then sell the secret.

Everyone should own at least one wood grenade. How big are these things? I have fallen in love with this maul. I'm wondering if there is some kind of dampening in the fiberglass handle when you overshoot the log and and hit the log with the maul neck to prevent the stinging and rebound effect.

And I took a chunk out of my thigh above the knee with one of these babies. Of course, it didn't bleed much ... cauterizes the wound, too. Pure genius.

This reciprocating saw is fucking cool. It cuts through walls and shit ... a lot of fun.

CAUTION! Do not use one of these augers without gloves. This guy is making it look easy ... perhaps he should be doing this barefooted. I hope he doesn't hit a big rock and get thrown into that fencepost.

This fucking ratchet, when used to haul a car on a flatbed trailer, can pull your fingernail right off and cause massive bleeding and extreme pain. If you are not sure how to use it, give me a call. I'll tell you where not to stick your finger. This one doesn't look as dangerous, but looks can be deceiving. You know these things long to maim the unwary.

When the climbing ropes don't work in securing the refrigerator you're trying to pull up the stairs and out of the basement, you could go out and buy one of these dollies, which, I believe, was invented just last summer, too late for me to get one to move a refrigerator out of the basement. And don't panic and call the fire department when the guy trying to get the fucking refrigerator out of the fucking basement ruptures the refrigerant line and fucking freon starts leaking. Freon is non-toxic. Of course, don't sit there breathing it in to the exclusion of regular air ... you'll kill yourself.

Did you know the guy who invented freon also invented leaded gasoline? I didn't. How would you like to be known as the one man who single-handedly caused the destruction of the ozone layer? Well, maybe we should give President Bush, ever conscious of the causes of global warming, some credit, too.

Finally, I know that a raccoon camped out under the deck this winter. Once I get it flushed out (I'm calling DT to do that), I figured that I might as well keep critters out of the yard by putting up my own electric fence. You know, something to do while Stacey is on the mend. Whatever.

The Real War Worth Fighting

There is something happening in Angola. You might be thinking that there's a war raging in Angola. You'd be wrong about that. The 27-year-long civil war ended in August, 2002.

But 159 people have died. CNN doesn't report it because this is happening in Africa to people of color, except for one, who was Italian, a physician, who was trying to stave off an epidemic of a disease which has no cure and which has killed almost all who have been infected. Twenty-two people have survived. Most who have perished have been children under the age of five.

The Marburg virus disease first presents with a fever, chills, headache, and general achiness, like any of a number of viral illnesses, serious and not so serious and usually progresses to a rash with nausea, vomiting, chest pain, sore throat, abdominal pain, and diarrhea by about the fifth day, then Signs and symptoms become increasingly severe and by the sixth day, can include jaundice, inflammation of the pancreas, severe weight loss, delirium, shock, and liver failure. By day seven or eight, massive hemorrhaging from the eyes, nose, mouth, and other openings occurs along with multi-organ dysfunction. Death invariably ensues.

Lassa Fever afflicts anywhere from 100,000 to 300,000 people in West Africa each year, including Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Nigeria, of which about 5,000 die from the viral infection, which is spread by rats.

And then there is AIDS, which is of epidemic proportions in Africa, affecting mostly women and children. In sub-Saharan Africa, three million people became infected with HIV in 2003 and 2,200,000 (think of every man, woman, and child in Denver and its surrounding environs or Tampa, Florida, disappearing) died of AIDS in that year.

In South Africa, the epidemic is generalized and reaches all segments of society. Heterosexual transmission is the predominant mode of infection. Fifty-seven percent of infected adults are women. Seventy five per cent of infected young people are women and girls.

Today, April 7, is World Health Day; and the theme is healthy mothers and children, emphasizing the need to change today's reality, in which half a million women die during pregnancy and childbirth each year and in which nearly 11 million children die before celebrating their fifth birthday.

This seems like a war worth fighting.

BIONIC WOMAN

ok. here i am. like you've been waiting with baited breath. i'm a bad, bad blogger. you guys have been so awesome. the lovely, supportive comments and e-mails. you guys rock! and i got ANOTHER care package from our friend, lucy! cookies! and banana bread! and nerf guns! and little note pads! all packaged in a personally decorated cannister by her youngest, ben! seriously, how lucky am i to have friends like you guys?

i'm supposed to go back to work on may 2. i'f i'm not ready, i think i'll blow my freakin' brains out. i am so sick and tired of the pain that i've been in every single freaking day since january 24. and of being sick and tired. in my nightstand, right at this moment, i have percoset, vicodin, and ultraset. ok that's a lie. the vicodin's in my pocket. shit.

and i have always been one of those people who could not tolerate pain pills. but if you hurt bad enough, you don't throw up when you take one. or two. unfortunately, i do sound like i'm huffing helium. a lot. jax will come to talk to me and say "are you high?" and then he'll say, "yeah, you are." pisses me off. cuz i don't FEEL like i'm high. i just feel like there's less pain. is that high?

let me advise every single one of you who's ever had any abdominal surgery. c-section. gall bladder removal. anything. if you feel like you've got a tiny hernia near your incision, and your doctor says it isn't a hernia, BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF HIM. right then and there. THEN make him schedule a cat scan or something. because let me tell you -- YOU DO NOT WANT TO LET IT GO. i wound up with 7 hernias, one area 5 x 9 inches. everything was outside of my abdominal wall. and these organs? they're not happy about being put back inside the new gortex wall (yup. gortex like your boots, jen). this is the worst freaking pain i have ever experienced in my life. so i'm kind of looking forward to my november RIGHT KNEE REPLACEMENT surgery.

i promise you that i'll catch up on your blogs. i'll TRY to read most of the three months that i've missed, but i can't promise anything. in my scattered and scarce approach to what i've been able to see, a lot has happened. engagements, births, blog shut downs, blog reopenings. michelle: tell me about mr. c!!!!! or point me to the relevent posts. help!

bottom line: i do feel a teeny, tiny bit better every day. but i'm impatient. i may have bit off more than i could chew at one time. bill is a fabulous supporter. i am so lucky. when i get low, he picks me back up. literally and figuratively. thank you, will. i love you.

and now more news. meet "bella." dog number THREE. are we freaking nuts or WHAT???!!!

Venti, Two-Pump, Non-Fat, No-Whip, Extra-Hot, One-Fly Mocha

I got home at about noon after dealing with a couple of the problem children of society, the people who think of the judge as their Dad, who will forgive them if they have any kind of cockamamie excuse because that's how it worked in their homes. Before heading upstairs, I made a couple sandwiches, one for me and one for Stacey, and her favorite concoction of orange juice and ginger ale.

She offered me the rest of her mocha, which the J-dogg had picked up on his morning excursion to Starbucks. Normally, I nuke her mocha, since I like mine just this side of scalding hot and Stacey likes hers to the left of lukewarm. Instead of the norm, I took a latte I made last night from the fridge to add to the mocha before going nuclear. I took the plastic lid off Stacey's venti mocha. There was a black fly floating on its back, lifeless.

Man, what luck!! I'm wondering what would have happened to the fly in the mocha if I hadn't made my discovery and if I had nuked it ... other than me drinking it, that is.

And who the hell put how did the fly get in the mocha?

Daylight Savings Time

I was sitting in the court room waiting for the judge to get up on to his perch far above the fray taking place on the court room floor. Behind the judge's chair, there is a black and gray granite sculpture, the great seal of the State of Ohio. Every state has a seal. Ohio's seal has a shock of wheat and a shock of arrows standing in the foreground of plowed fields. In the distance is the shining sun either rising or setting behind a range of mountains.

What is so unusual about this?

There are no mountains in Ohio.

In any event, I spoke to my client last night to remind him of the hearing this afternoon at 1 o'clock.

Me: Be there tomorrow afternoon at 1.
Him: 1?
Me: You got it.
Him: That's 1, right?
Me: Yep. 1.
Him: Is that before or after the time change?
Me: What?
Him: The, you know, time change.
Me: What?
Him: You know, Day -- light ... Sa -- vings ... Time.
Me: You know what? Be there at 12.
Him: But that's lunchtime!
Me: Before or after the time change?
Him: What?
Me: Be there at 1, right after lunch.

Sometimes, life can be very difficult.

Weather Goest Starbucks?

It's been snowing and blowing. I don't really mind it. Doesn't help to complain. Might as well enjoy it.

I gave up my secret power to control the weather a few years ago. I don't know who has the power now; so, don't be e-mailing me about it.

Like I said, might as well enjoy it ... except the fucking electricity was out at Starbucks!!! I could not believe it. I thought Starbucks had its own power grid and all that. If the two people working there would have let me try, I could have fixed it. I know I could have. I'm good at electrical stuff.

I am.

Old Navy

I just realized that I'm wearing Old Navy blue jeans, an Old Navy white Oxford shirt, an Old Navy white henley, and Old Navy pink with white pinstripe boxer shorts.