Odd People

Recently I've been encountering odd men. I don't know why, or what I've done to deserve this, but I wish I could figure it out so I would stop seeing these people.

For instance, I went to a pro football game on Sunday. This is not a normal occurrence for me - I make it out to the stadium about once every three years. And this guy - Semi-Drunk Sports Fanatic guy - is one of the big reasons why. He yells loudly at the refs and players throughout the game. Sometimes the yelling is profane, always it is loud and inappropriate (and unimaginative). He is offended by those like me and my girlfriends who choose to sit and watch the event without incurring laryngitis or bursting a blood vessel. He feels that it is his duty to clap us repeatedly on the shoulders and say "come on girls, we need you to get up and cheer", under the mistaken impression that this will incite some action from us other than a snow cone or drink tossed in his face. He is so involved with himself and his behavior that he doesn't even realize that his pronouncement that his wife doesn't like him very much shocks no one.

Then, there's this guy that works at the mail shop that I frequent. Nice guy, I've always enjoyed chatting with him, until he proved that he's a TMI guy. TMI guys are the unfortunate types that foster the impression that strangers in their vicinity give a shit about the details of the personal horrors that have befallen them. I was making polite small-talk with this man, and all of a sudden he launches into this saga about a recent colonoscopy gone wrong and how it landed him in the hospital. Why, oh why, would anyone think the inner-workings of their ass would be an acceptable topic of conversation? Maybe at a proctologist convention, but certainly not with a patron of your business.

So, note to strange guys: Leave Your Strangeness at Home! I'm sick of wrestling with whether I want to wring your neck with my bare hands or will the floor to suck me in. Enough already, people!

Out, Damn Cobwebs!

Cobwebs have formed and crickets are chirping at the blog. Sorry, folks, but we've been on vacation.

Every year we take a trip for our anniversary. This year was our seventh, to grand ol' St. Louie. Over the years we've been to Phoenix, Minneapolis, Florida, the Bahamas and Branson. Branson has been a choice multiple years for the simple fact that we're normally too broke to take a vacation at all, but we go anyway because the trips are one of our secrets of "keeping the flame alive". Plus, it ensures that we at least get one vacation a year, and, let's face it, a lame vacation is better than none at all.

What with the week it takes to prepare home, work and now Little Man for absence, and the week it takes to recover from the travel and unpack, there are times I wonder if vacations are really worth it. But, as I can think of no additional material to support that statement, it must be just a general bitch and I do really like them.

Details to come, but suffice it to say that St. Louis is a below-average vacation destination - worse than Branson! - but we had a nice hotel & enjoyed the luxury of living child-free for the weekend.

The Sopranos are Killing Me

My friend loaned me the first two seasons of the Sopranos. I've been watching them and they're awesome. And I can't . . .stop . . .watching! Such a great storyline, I can't stop hitting "play" for the next episode.

My life has gone to crap. Since I got them laundry and dishes have started to pile up, but I can't be bothered because I must know who gets clipped next. I have to prop my sleepless eyes open with toothpicks every morning, yet I have to know if the FBI have got Tony yet. Thank goodness she only gave me the first two seasons, or this would drag out for weeks. (Hmmmm, I wonder if she has season three . . .)

It's 1 AM. The Little Man will be squealing for more vittles in a few short hours, and I must get some rest. But, I think I have time for just one more . . .