City of Heroes... Garage of Nerds...

Okay, so I recently switched (temporarily!) from World of Warcraft to City of Heroes. I thought I'd let you know how things were going.

Playing from the deep recesses of my garage, the first thing I did was create a character named after Phil Hartman and my wife. His name is Vicqui. He's manly, purple, and named after a girl... a lot like John Wayne.

In the beginning, I was lucky to stop a purse-snatcher. Then, I moved up to muggers, car thieves, and even gangs! It wasn't easy. The bad guys in CoH aren't dumb. If they have a gun, they'll run away and shoot at you from a safe distance. If they have a knife, they'll follow you while you run away.

When Vicqui started, he was already pretty tough. He could jump over cars. Come on! How many of you can do that? But I wanted more. I really wanted to fly!

... but that ability is not available until level 14...

... and I just got to level 9...

... it's going to take a while.

On the up side, I actually jumped from rooftop to rooftop last night, a lot like the Tick! (He, of course, is more purple, more manly, and... not named after a girl.)

I always entered an area called The Hollows. The thing about CoH is there are load times between zones, something you never have to deal with in WoW! Anyway, The Hollows is a pretty tough area. There was a big, BIG fight there once and the landscape is broken into cliffs and chasms. Once horizontal streets need to be climbed vertically! It's pretty cool. Vicqui, of course, got killed pretty quickly but he's getting tougher!

In a few levels, he'll be flying across that landscape. You just wait.

Let's hope I can do all that in two months. That's when my account runs dry...

Sent your Tivo, DVR, or whatever

I know that we will...Global Warming. There are also some really good links for science articles regarding the crisis.

I'm off to study now...

I read the news today... oh boy...

This started as a result of listening to Ed Schultz during lunch. He kept talking about the middle east as if... is something happening over there?

Of course, there is.

And it's been happening for decades.

As Vicky so astutely pointed out, any war in the middle east is bound to have the born-against smiling, waiting for their rapturous... what do they call that again? Of course, I had to point out that anyone jubilant over the deaths of thousands of people... may be stopped on their way to heaven for some serious cross-examination.

"I didn't kill anyone but I loved it when other people did!"

Yeah... they may have to wait.

So, what has been happening?

As you know, we (known the world over as US) invaded a sovereign nation because, well, the fall line-up on the major networks just weren't too exciting that year or something - and we've been doing a great job of a) killing lots of innocent people, b) creating lots of hate for US and lots of terrorists, and c) misspending just a FUCKLOAD of money. Would any of this make anyone hate US? I'm stumped.

But it appears they do. It might also have something to do with our anal obsession with backing Israel. Now, listen, I have nothing against Israel... you know, as a concept. But they're like the kid on My Bodyguard - you know, the one who can act like a bully because he has an even bigger bully to back him up. We (US) are the bigger bully.

So, Israel goes around killing people and bombing people... and I'm just saying they probably wouldn't be so quick to do it if US weren't here, backing them up every step of the way.

I mean, hell, when Israel started flexing their militaristic imperative this time, bombing the shit out of Palestine and Lebanon - and getting just a pee stream away from Syria. The UN wanted to sanction them. We (US) vetoed it. Why? Because Israel was just defending themselves because one of its soldiers was taken prisoners.

Let's see. On one hand, one guy gets taken prisoner. On the other, a whole lot of people get bombed to shit. Sounds fair.

And, mind you, this is just THIS TIME.

Of course, we (US) can't do too much because we have long lost the moral high-ground. (Committing acts of aggressive war, breaking the Geneva Convention, and crimes against humanity tend to do that.)

So, the whole place is one, big, shitfest. It's like the apartment of your average 20-year old after payday... but with bombs.

Meanwhile, back home, the House is still debating if black people should still be allowed to vote.

Check, please!

Dreams of "me"...

So, I had this dream last night...

My son says to me, "(Someone) and me are going out."

"(Someone) and I," I reply.

"Huh?"

"It's (someone) and I," I tell him.

"Why not (someone) and me?"

I explain to him, "Whenever you're in doubt, just remove the part before I or Me. 'Me are going out' sounds stupid. The goal with grammar is to not sound stupid. Sounding stupid is a bad thing. It makes you appear stupid. In fact, it makes you stupid be default."

Which is when I woke up, thinking, "So don't be such a fucking retard, kid."

Yep, leave it to me to mix dreams of parenthood with a diatribe on grammar...

Some batshit-crazy liberal idea about the new AIDS drug...

Just thought I'd prepare you.

So, the new AIDs drug, Atripla, was approved by the FDA yesterday and should be available next week.

Progress, right? We're finally getting AIDS to the point where it's a disease you can live with, just like Diabetes, Arthritis... or Mormonism.

That is, if you're rich. Yes, that's right - the new drug is going to cost and cost big. At $1,100 each month for the prescription, it's more like blood money than drug money.

And I can't help think that isn't fair somehow. Is that where we live? In a world where only the rich survive? Sure, it is! But it doesn't need to be that way.

And in case you're wondering what I'm talking about, let's run the numbers. Let's say you live an average life without any extra expenses.

Rent: $1000 (That's cheap, even in Southern California!)
Utilities: $400 (That's electricity, phone, water, and gas - not even basic cable!)
Food: $200 (Let's hope you live alone.)
Transportation: $400 (That's a cheap car with the bare minimum for insurance.)
Gasoline: $100 (Okay, so we forgot that with transportation, but who thinks of the details?)
Atripla: $1100

Keep in mind that those with AIDS often incur a host of other expenses for care and medication - but we'll leave those things out, too. Cause, honestly, the Republicans do, too.

So, that gives us a total of $38,400 in expenses for one year, with no luxuries like the medical care that keeps you alive. Just to stay alive, you'll need to make over 50 GRAND each year, thus eliminating anyone making minimum wage... and most others as well. This is how the Republicans move their agenda of keeping AIDS patients dead right along.

Now, why is this? Well, it's because pharmaceutical companies enjoy little or no federal regulation, which is thanks to the hard work of their lobbyists who provide money that gives hard-ons to politicians - and most of them are Republicans. (Who do you think coined the phrase "Fuck Regulations"?) This massive deregulation isn't helping AIDS victims or, well, anyone - but it is helping their CEOs line their pockets, which is what matters most.

Again, it doesn't have to be this way... but it will be, anyway.

There's been something I've been meaning to say...

And this probably isn't it.

But bear with me anyway.

We were in the desert, feeling the rush of the wind as it carves its manic arc into the depths of the canyon and out before us to high above.

We enjoyed some great sushi just before the champagne was brought out and I got on one knee.

We stood in a particularly wet evening mist outside of Portland, while I did my usual "let me entertain you" mumbo and she looked on like I was nuts.

We sat at a very small table at a dive bar & grill in Ocean Beach, down in San Diego, drinking... a lot and laughing our asses off.

We got up WAY before the ass crack of dawn, walked down to the shore, dragged some beach chairs to the water, and waited and waited, and watched the sun rise over the serene Atlantic.

We hiked through a very youthful primeval forest on the central Californian coast, careful to avoid banana slugs, holding hands.

Dressed in plastic, we dashed through torrential rains in Hawaii, hurrying back to our hotel, splashing and laughing like little kids.

We've fought at the very worst times.

We made out like teenagers... very recently.

After you've been with someone a while, it becomes difficult for "I Love You" to sound any different from "I'm on the phone" or "Can you do the dishes". There's nothing special about it. And shouting it from the rooftops or saying "I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE YOU!" seems kind of silly; you already got her.

Vicky is a horribly frustrating bitch at times. She's crude and she's insensitive and she's picky and... well, she doesn't get my jokes. It's really hard to explain how someone who pisses you off can be someone you care about more than anything. How someone who can downright embarrass you is someone you are dying to kiss. But I've spent a lot of time lately, thinking about just how lucky I've been to find her and how very much I love her. And I just wanted to let her know...

I think a few of those memories might help.

President Copperfield... or Creutzfeldt ...

And the Amazing Deficit Trick!

(Keep in mind that while they call the Democrats "Tax and Spend", all they do is "Spend Spend Spend"...)

Now, see if you can follow me on this. First, Shrub says the deficit will be $423 billion. Then, he says it's actually only $296 billion! Wow! Much lower! Guess those Republican policies of granting massive tax cuts to the rich and overtaxing the poor and what's left of the middle class and cutting social programs to benefit those Christo-fascist friends of his really really worked! It really has! It's amazing!!!

... You know, except for the fact that the government had a surplus before this bonehead fucked everything up.

So, thanks Shrub. Thanks for running up only the FOURTH largest deficit in history... after you ran up the THIRD... and the SECOND... and the FIRST...

You must be so proud.

Recipe du semaine...

This week, I'm going to give Jenn a break. She's given me this crazy stew-like concoction to make so, I figure, if I go easy maybe she'll give me toast next week... you know, something I can cook!

So, here's the deal this week. Gather yon spaghetti, yon penne, yon linguini - cause we're making tomato sauce! Yep, I've been making my own for years; it's time you joined in. This recipe is pretty easy. But, don't worry, it'll get more difficult when we get to bolognaise!


BASIC TOMATO SAUCE

1 Spanish onion, cut into 1/4_inch dice - if you can't find one, use a nice, big, red one!
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced - I prefer to go crazy with the garlic, throwing in a nearly a dozen!
3 ounces virgin olive oil (extra if you got it)
4 tablespoons fresh thyme (or 2 tablespoons dried)
1/2 medium carrot, finely shredded - the finer the better
2 (28_ounce) cans of tomatoes, crushed and mixed well with their juices
Salt, to taste

Saute the onion and garlic in the olive oil over medium heat until translucent, but not brown (about 10 minutes). For this, you'll want to go with a low heat and take your time (not thyme - that comes later). You're looking for translucence here.

Add the thyme and carrot and cook 5 minutes more or until the carrots are nice and smushy.

Add the tomatoes. Bring to a boil, lower the heat to just bubbling, stirring occasionally for 30 minutes.

Season with salt to taste. You can also kick it up with a little essence. The beautiful thing about this recipe is you can add anything you want. Add meat for a meatier sauce. Add veggies. Add a bunch of mushrooms!

Serve immediately, or set aside for further use. The sauce may be refrigerated for up to one week or frozen for up to 6 months.

Sunrise/Sunset...

I have to tell you about the sunrise I saw this morning.

For some reason, though or because it's been particularly hot, clouds had sunk down low right on top of Santiago Canyon, the road I take to work every morning. The road dips and weaves its way through some of Orange County's last remaining open space, making the commute seem more like a pleasant drive... until you realize where you're going.

This morning, as I entered the hills that Santiago Canyon took me through, the clouds enveloped me and I could barely see the car ahead. Then, taking a turn around a hill, it happened - the ineffable. Suddenly, the powerful, summer sun blasted through the clouds, creating a thick, murky haze all around. Immediately beside you, trees, grass, and rocks were covered with a sheen and everything looked like a memory. The thick haze seemed to block the world of reality. Time slowed.

And, for just a moment, I wanted to pull over and stop and stay in that realm of peace for just a moment, or a thousand years.

But then, I realized I had to return home. Vicky's there... and I also have City of Heroes.

What?, you ask. City of Heroes? What about World of Warcraft???

Yeah... that...

Yes, this weekend, I took the plunge and decided to try another game. After all, my WoW account was running out. The time seemed to be right. I've played other MMORPGs (Massive Multi-player Online Role Playing Games, for the great unwashed) before but nothing has held up like WoW. So, I chose CoH since that has had some nice things said about it, as well.

Playing CoH, you immediately realize what an incredible machine WoW is. WoW got so much right, it's just amazing. Don't get the wrong idea! CoH is a lot of fun. I have three characters set up: a purple behemoth named Vicqui (after my own Vicky but also recalling Phil Hartman), Captain Incongruous, and Commander Cathode. I can't fly, yet, but it's a lot of fun... the only thing is...

Well, there are little things they just didn't get quite right. Like the map and the way missions are given out and how some things just aren't intuitive enough. See, WoW is so god-damned polished, you just don't run into that. So, I've really gained an appreciation. And I'll play WoW again, to be sure.

Amazing how reality pulls you back into the world - and the things it uses as hooks...

Things you don’t learn until you’re married… again…

There are things I should know, I really should know. I mean, you would think that, being in my second married, I would have an absolute advantage at this. I would medal.

But that’s not always the case.

You see, I’m learning that Vicky is undergoing some amount of stress as a result of her coming CLA exam.

“I’m stressed,” she says.

“I’m really fucking stressed,” she bellows.

“Blood! Now! I must feed!” Sometimes, it’s like she’s a different person.

Men and women tackle stress very differently, I’m learning. For instance, when a guy is stressed, he usually says, with a smile, “Yes, this is a very stressful situation. Thanks for asking. Love ya. Try the veal.”

But a women, in the same circumstance, is also likely to smile and rip your arm off… as a hint…

So, here’s what I’m trying to do for my bride. “Walking,” I suggested, to her overly unimpressed visage. “I could take you for a walk and, hopefully, lose some weight. I could take you for a walk and, hopefully, fit in my clothes again. It’s all for you.”

What I didn’t realize is just how stressed women get. Vicky was as stressed as a woman pregnant… for 17 ½ years. “Yes, I’m in my 53rd trimester – GET IT THE FUCK OUT! NOW!!”

She turned to me with this wild look in her eye, the kind you see hyenas give on nature shows. Scribbled notes and papers filled with highlighter marks flew around her. Her scream shattered the windows, next door. “You want me to walk?! I’m trying to create the world here! The world! And God didn’t leave his fucking notes!!”

I patted down my singed hair and backed away. “I’ll just let you study, then.”

Fat Daddy... not so much Daddy...

A couple of things...

Some of you may know I used to be an actor. I use the phrase "used to be", not because I wouldn't really love to act again, but because it's been so long - who am I kidding?

I've had a lot of excuses why I couldn't do any acting in a while. I've been very busy, for instance. I had a pending job, was another quality one. I forgot, was a perennial favorite.

Well, I have a new one. I got an email last night from Stephanie, telling me about an "honestly can't pass this up" kind of audition... and I honestly can't pass it up... except, there's one problem. I'm fat. I'm horrifically fat. I'm so fat that when I go outside in a yellow raincoat, people call out "Hey Taxi!" I'm registered with the National Seismological Institute as a possible threat. You see where I'm going with this?

And it's not I'm a pig. Hell, I've cut back significantly on my piggishness! I'm active. I eat right... ish. I hardly engage in "fatness inducing" behavior. All I can guess is that I have a horribly slow metabolism. I have the metabolism of a lazy snail... with absolutely no motivation.

It's sucks, is all I'm saying.

So, do I want to roll up onto the stage again, possibly threatening small children and structural integrity?

... We'll see.

And here's the other thing, which is in no way related (in case you're wondering), I really want to be a Daddy. Swear to God and what the hell's wrong with me?

The minute I can't have sex anymore - it's been like 50 or so years since Vicky's surgery - I want the one thing you get from really successful fucking. Ain't the mind a bitch?

I'm just saying.

What the Schwarzen?...

How is it remotely possible that the Guvenator is leading in the polls for California Governor?

I mean, sure, we Californians have a tendency to like Nazis in the Governor's office - Reagan, the "Duke", Wilson - but, seriously, do people have to be so literal?

A fire next time?...

Not bloody likely, unless we get to nuke ourselves before we melt the icecaps... which gives us a couple of years or so.

... Possible.

Anyway, if you'd like to see the wonderful things massive flooding can do for you - be it through the mysterious hocus pocus of global warming or the HARD FACTUAL SCIENCE of GOD - check out this online tool I just found. It uses Google Maps to show you how much a given area would flood by just raising the sea level a meter or so.

Enjoy.

Don't forget your water wings!

A few other things this morning...

MSN.com leads off this morning by asking if seven is too young to have a credit card.

At what point did it become fashionable to ask stupid questions?

When I was a kid, you were told, "Don't ask such stupid questions." Then, as a young man, I heard, "There are no stupid questions." Somewhere during my adulthood, the chant changed to "Stupid questions? Bring 'em on!"

So, I was driving to work today and saw posters for a benefit concert in Silverado Canyon. The concert is to help preserve the last bits of open space in Orange County (the last few feet) and will be held on July 15th. I know there aren't too many readers down here in "the OC" but I thought I'd provide a link for you.

Now, if I can get Vicky to stop hating me by then...

So, I'm driving to work today and I notice several cars with the phrase "GO FRANCE" plastered onto their sides, backs, etc.

I nearly drove off a cliff... if I could find one.

Am I losing my mind or is the United States just losing its focus? Wasn't France just the enemy? Just a few minutes ago? Weren't we just selling "Freedom Fries" and "Freedom Toast" on Capitol Hill and scorning the French for their so-called sympathy for the terrorists? (I swear we were but the Internets appear to be expunged of such information.)

So, now France is out friend and... why? Because they won a soccer match. Well, hell folks. If we're going determine our allies by soccer match, we better get ready for a lot of middle-eastern countries. They play soccer, you know.

Or, perhaps, we should just admit how foolish we've been. And, while we're at it, stop giving seven year-olds credit cards.

Making mistakes...

There's a whole lot I don't write about on this blog. Some things are best left private.

For instance, I don't talk about the inner workings of my marriage. As any married person knows, there's a reason why you don't want to know what goes into hot dogs. Am I right or am I right?

Well, fuck that for a second because I'm pissed.

I wrote an entry earlier about the recipe from last week. I wrote it and there was a mistake in it.

First, let me tell you about the mistake. I wrote "I'll spoil the surprise now and tell you that I used chicken, because I just find it easier to BBQ. " Now, this implies that I did the BBQ'ing. In fact, my wife did. She barbequed the chicken. Now, the statement is factually accurate - I did use chicken and I do find it easier to BBQ, I just prefer not to - but the implication, as I mentioned, was incorrect.

So, I'm sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when I get this phone call from Vicky (she was upstairs - don't ask), who just read the entry, just going off on me because I made that mistake. This is my wife, ladies and germs. She loves to point out my flaws and does it often and - it's times like this that I'm glad I'm not a religious man because I can avoid hypocricy - so help me I just want to smack her. I'm really glad I have a flight of stairs between her and me right now.

So, there you go. I told her I'd write a retraction for my grevious error and here it is... now, I'm going out to buy a pack of cigarettes...

A wheel of wine...

This story goes back to somewhere around January 2003. I was dating Deanna at the time. Both of us were wine lovers and, for fun, she bought me a "wine wheel", which showed which foods went with which wines. It was really neat.

(Parenthetically, I should add that I tend to gravitate towards those kind of women - the wrong kind of women - the kind of women who would express their affection by purchasing gifts. I'll take a wet, sloppy kiss... I said kiss!... any day. I don't know why I tend towards such women but there it is. And, yes, Vicky is this way, too.)

Anyway, the wine wheel was very cool... and, of course, I lost it. DAMN!

And I could have used it this weekend, when we were eating a bunch of different stuff and paring our wines by selecting which was closest or which ones we weren't "saving"...

I told Vicky that I was sure they must have something like the wheel online and... you guessed it: HERE IT IS!

I hope you find it as useful as I... and I hope I don't lose it...

Recipe the second...

Yes, I'm back from a long Independence Day holiday weekend - that holiday in the US where we honor booze, slacking, and sleeping in...

We also made the recipe for the week, featured last week on Jenn's blog. (You're keeping up, aren't you?)

Here's the recipe, in case you forgot:

"Halibut" in Lemon-Ginger Marinade

2 lbs halibut steaks (1 in thick) - this might be good with chicken or salmon if halibut isn't on sale.

Lemon-Ginger Marinade
1T finely minced lemon zest
1/3 C freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 C dry white wine or dry vermouth
3 T flavorless cooking oil
2 T thin soy sauce
1 T Oyster Sauce
1/4 Tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/4 C Minced green onions
1 T Very finely minced ginger - for this Jenn used a Rachel Ray trick. She peeled the ginger (about an inch of ginger) then squished it with my knife to release the flavors and stuck it in the marinade. This releases all the ginger flavor without all the mess.
2 cloves garlic, finely minced

Combine all the marinade ingredients. At least 10 minutes but not more than 30 minutes prior to cooking, pour the marinade over the halibut and turn it to evenly coat. Keep refrigerated.

Cook "halibut" either via grill, broil, bake - however you want.

There you go... but first, a little background.

We cooked this on Monday night, which was not necessarily a great day for me. I didn't sleep the night before so my brain wasn't really what you might call "connected". So, I proceeded with caution.

This being a marinade, I just chopped, poured, and scooped everything right into a zip-lock bag. I'll spoil the surprise now and tell you that I used chicken, because I just find it easier to BBQ. (NOTE: Correction. See the "Making mistakes" entry later today.) We purchased a couple of these incredible, organic chicken breasts from Henry's and were good to go.

So, I began.

Lemon zest... how do you finely mince zest? It's tough! I took my smallest paring knife and just chopped the shit to death!

Lemon juice... having zested the lemon, I rolled it and squeezed the crap out of it - nearly 1/3 cup!

White wine... We picked up a bottle of Kendall Jackson chardonnay and found that it was more fruity than dry. Not a bad wine, though, and we used it anyway.

Cooking oil... pretty much self-explanatory.

Soy sauce... again, a no-brainer.

Oyster sauce... Vicky and searched the "asian foods" section of our supermarket and found two bottles hidden amongst a community of sauces. Not knowing what the hell oyster sauce is, we just bought the one that looked "more asian".

Black pepper... rather than buy another sauce, I threw in some black pepper and (diverging from the recipe) a heavy pinch of essence.

Green onions... chop chop choppity chop chop, and we're done.

Minced ginger... I had no idea what Rachel Ray's trick was so I took some fresh ginger and, again, chopped the hell out of it.

Garlic... yeah! Chopity fucking chop! Done!

So, all of this was thrown into a zip-lock bag, along with the chicken breasts. All the air was squeezed out and the whole thing coated the chicken. (And with how hot it's been in southern California, how dare I say "coat"!)

Following Jenn's instructions, I only let this marinade for half an hour - but I think I'll let it go for an hour next time for more punch.

These breasts barbequed up so nicely - plump and juicy - yum! We served it with some barbequed corn and had a nice dinner outside. Mind you, we ate around 9pm because that was when it was finally cool enough to go outside... hating this summer.

Stay tuned next week!

Global Warming: It's not happening and look at all the benefits it brings!...

I hope you'll pardon the sarcasm but today's article on Yahoo made me want to wretch.

Global warming is a serious threat facing everyone on the planet and it's an insult to all those being adversely affected by it (ie. humanity) deny it, which politicians and the corporate media like to do, or to play like it is somehow a good thing.

One day, history is going to look back at us and our time, our waste and selfishness, and portray those of our generation as a pile of puke.

Things I do when most people are sleeping…

It’s pretty late but I’m still up. Most of you are sleeping, I’m sure. I’m still up thanks to my continuing animosity towards sleep. Sleep doesn’t treat me right. Sleep isn’t my friend. For most people, sleep comes along and brings them slumber but, for me, it’s a different story.

Tonight has been the return of the “voices” for me. Voices deep in my head and tonight, they’s a’talkin’. As usual, of course, they’re speaking some language that was never offered in high school or any college I visited, read about, or attended. You’d think if they were going to talk so loudly, they’d speak English, but they don’t. And, damn, do they yell!

Now, they’re only yelling once every half hour or so, so it’s not that bad – but when you hear voices yelling at you inside your head, once every half hour or so is bad enough.

They get so loud, I can’t really do anything. It’ll be fortunate if this entry is readable and, if so, hosanna in the highest about that. (This is America, where religion is mandated in our blogs, so…)

Anyway, I was fortunately enough to have a show to watch. Vicky had tivo’ed (he said, using it as a verb) the Independence Day holiday’s Prairie Home Companion Special for me so I got to stay up and watch that. (“Go to”???) I’m a sucker for Garrison Keillor’s show and I love seeing it, not just listening to it, so I enjoyed it greatly.

Now, Vicky’s doing great after her surgery. She’s up and around and doing everything you’d imagine a woman doing… except… well… And, of course, once we got married that pretty much stopped anyway but a full stop is hard to take. I hear we should get some gas in the engine by August but bits of anatomy could drop off by then…

I leaned over to my poor, suffering bride – suffering from this pain in her back – yesterday and asked if I could kiss her. Torrid romantic that she is, she looked thoughtful for a minute and replied with all the lust and verve of a woman hopelessly in love, “I guess.”

I love that pain in the ass.

Anyway, so I’m watching TV tonight. One of Keillor’s guests is Meryl Streep. Now, I must confess that, being an American male has meant a great under appreciation for all things Streep. I liked “Out of Africa” for its soundtrack. I love “Defending Your Life” because it’s an Albert Brooks film. I love “Manhatten” because it’s a Woody Allen film. She just can’t win.

So, she’s on the stage and I’m watching the show… and I suddenly realize how beautiful this woman is. In her 50’s, she is radiant in a very real, honest way. Granted, I don’t want to immediately tear her clothes off. She’s not that kind of woman. She’s the kind of woman you want to slow dance with under the stars, walk along the moonlight discussing Bergman films… and then, tear her clothes off.

But, as I say, things around here have been slow.

And, worse, I’m not sleeping.

So, I write this while trying to decide if I want to take a walk or… I don’t know. Lack of sleep plays hell with her eye sight and then your mind starts to wander so any kind of “doing” anything is pretty much out of the question.

Used to be, whenever this happened, I would take a large bottle of scotch and a pack of cigarettes and drink those voices into submission. But I am a married man now with duties and responsibilities… and a wife who doesn’t appreciate those shenanigans…

Hope you sleep well.

Not a fan site... just an incredible simulation...

Okay, so I haven't made my drool-drenching lust of all things Grandaddy the best kept secret in town. I'm aware of that!

They've got a new video out, which may be their last. (Fambly Cat was their last album.) So, enjoy it here. It looks like it was made with cheap Flash animation, which adds a certain late-90's charm.