Today was one of those days...Okay, it was like this: if a Lewis Black monologue and a Ralph Steadman cartoon could get together and make a baby, it would look like today.
I have had three cups of coffee today.
Oh, and the Predators lost to Boston tonight. I may have to break up with my Secret Hockey Husband, Tim Thomas. Maybe I just need some space for a little while. I should have taken it as a sign when I walked out the door wearing a Red Wings t-shirt. Kevin took one look at me and said, "You are making Jason Arnott cry." I can't bear this. I'll give the t-shirt to Goodwill or wear it to my next dental appointment (#157 in a series of 1479) maybe Chris Chelios will scare my dentist and he'll actually let me get up and run around, go pee and decompress after two hours in the chair. Don't get me wrong. I love my dentist, but the past few visits have been more like being the workbench under a happy guy with a Dremel on a Saturday afternoon in May. By the way, Chris Chelios is making me cry. Every time I see him, I picture some little kid in a Blackhawks jersey following him down the ramp, screaming, "Shane! Shane!"
Should I really be this wired from three (3) cups of coffee? I am getting old.
Have I mentioned that I am going back to school? Have I mentioned that in order to do this I have to present proof of shots I got when Nixon was president? That I have to find out if I ever actually graduated from high school and if they accept United States currency to mail a transcript from Western Kentucky University. Of the four colleges I attended during my misspent youth, Western weighs in as the most expensive. Their transcripts cost 7.00. Overpriced Arts and Basketweaving comes in second at 5.00, Bayou Fried Chicken State set me back 2.00 and Tiger High's are free with the purchase of a Dana Kirk bobblehead. (#3 in the "Back In The Day Series") I got my MMR booster. The doctor was lovely and the staff deserved combat pay. The waiting room was like a Brueghel painting, only with Elmo instead of demons as a recurring motif. I will never again mourn not having a child.
Why, oh why won't this coffee wear off?
I really should have stayed home anyway. I would not have consumed that last cup of coffee and I'd probably have dozed off sometime after the final buzzer but before "Living With Ed" started. I am sure the people at Untitled Artists wanted to tranq me with a dart gun. I would have tranqed me with a dart gun. During the meeting I: 1.)apologized to a teenager on behalf of my generation for subjecting her age group to the linty horror that is the ouvre of Rankin Bass' holiday programming and the concommittant nostalgia that causes it to get foisted on a new crop of children every year 2.)allowed Robert the metalworker dude to be a Bad Influence and feed me scores and stats from his I-Phone during the meeting. 3.)be inappropriately amused multiple times 4.) talked way, way too much. Even if I know what I'm talking about, silence is golden and I should aspire to that kind of wealth. Or something like that. 5.) I also used the phrase "batshit crazy" is front of the aforementioned teen. I am still punchy and its...nearly ten thirty?
Coffee beans the wonderful fruit...
I think I also called a number of people and told them I loved them. If I didn't call you please know that I love you, too.
a very wired and silly me
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I'm turning the keyboard over to my newest guest blogger:
This is His Holiness the Doggy Lama Niklas Lidstrom the Shih Tzu. Touch his Puu Doll at your peril.
Hello! My assistant is busy trying to get some paintings finished before the deadline for her next co-op show and no one is watching hockey right now so I figured it was as good a time as any to get online and see what all the fuss is about. You're more than likely here because you want a different view on the important things in life: french fries, hockey and my Puu doll.
First things first. If you touch my Puu doll, I will cut you.
Second: All of the french fries are mine.
Third: I have been adopted into a hockey loving household. This is a huge improvement over the shelter. While I appreciate the people there for taking me in, it's nice to have the run of the house, occasional rogue turns at the remote, and a box of toys I don't have to share. Now if I could just get the fat one to stay off of my bed, everything would be perfect.
Hockey is really easy. The big panda bears in the net cages throw biscuits out on the ice and everyone chases them with sticks until someone grabs a person with the wrong sweater on and beats them before the color-challenged players tmake them go into the naughty box. I think they may do this because they are jealous of the pretty sweaters with aminals on them. There's also a man with a striped suit and no neck or facial expression who stands on the side. He may be there to walk someone out if they have to go wee.
There's this big wolfhound in a red sweater? His name is Ovechkin? Some people here like him. Some people's mothers will only say that they like him better than Hossa. Earlier this season Tim the Big Boston Panda knocked Ovechkin down and one of his teammates pushed him flat on the ice as he skated by. Gramma did this weird "Ha ha" Mom calls a Nelson Laugh. Hockey makes Gramma mean. It makes our friend Silbia mean, too. I heard she was at the Nashville/Dallas season opener and managed to get down next to the plexi and bang on it and tell Brendan Morrow that he was making her damned mad. I don't think they thought an 83 year old Methodist Sunday School teacher was going to do that!
I am also trying to get my friend, Maggie the Hampshire Pig to blog with me. She loves swimming and Michael Phelps. She said that he is the most beautiful man in sports and no one could turn her head. So I got out an old copy of Hockey News.
"Who IS that?" she squealed.
"Zdeno Chara" I said.
"He's...BEAUTIFUL!" I also showed her a couple of pictures of Pavel Datsyuk, so our girl is hooked.
Pigs. Give them a burrito and some pretty Russian men and they're as pliable as beeswax in Phoenix in August.
Until next time!
PS. Get well wishes to JP Dumont. As a former shelter dog, I am glad he took the time to speak on our behalf this Summer. He's my favorite guy here in Nashville and I miss seeing him on the ice. -Nik