1 post tagged “giants”

It's only fitting that I do these now as I'm back on the road again, effective tomorrow. Back to San Antonio. I will not slander the town anymore, because I can be a bit obnoxious and I know it.

Anyhoo...my random thoughts.

1. Dear NFL: If you're going to pack up two teams and ship them to England for a football game, can you at least pick two teams that are hot and fun to watch? Don't get me wrong...the Giants are fun for me to watch, but that's largely because of the perverse longing I feel for Michael Strahan. The Miami Dolphins? Miami doesn't even watch the Dolphins...why punish England?

2. Dear Austin, TX: I kid about the whole United States of Texas thing, but now I'm starting to wonder. How is it that I put on the Austin 8 all day news channel, or the nightly news...and never hear one lick of news that doesn't somehow link back to our town? I mean, I'm glad to hear that Great Granny Clara just ate her hundredth popsicle...but I'm kinda thinking you might wanna broaden your range a bit.

3. Speaking of broadening...A friend of mine was lamenting about some frustrations he's having with a...shall we say...cranially-challenged lover. In exasperation, he says to her today that she needs to consider broadening her palette regarding a project she's working on. When she stares blankly at him, he goes, "Palette, you know what I mean, right?" He says she answers...

(wait for it)

"Pontius Palette, he's the one that killed Jesus Christ."

I know he made it up...but daaaaamn, I nearly peed my pants on that one.

4. For those of you that are my tweeps, you may have noticed a ridiculously high preoccupation with "candeh" last week. I never indulged. And I still have not. I've just decided to stop torturing you with it.

5. There are two days left to this horrid mercury retrograde we're experiencing. It is painful, all sorts of people slipping, falling, panicking, having mechanical issues and general fuckery. I think someone should banish merc retros and send them packing. I just do not want. I'm high strung enough...I need no celestial intervention.

6. So my livingroom tank and bedroom tank are both thriving now that I've gotten my novice experience under my belt. The bedroom tank has 4 tiger barbs, 2 albino tiger barbs, 2 green barbs and 2 blue gourami. What a fun tank that one is to watch during evenings of insomnia. The livingroom tank may have a problem. I have three albino tin foil barbs in there. Red eyes, silvery reflective body, cool fish. But um...they are growing. And...apparently after I did my research...I gasped. Audibly. These lil darlings? Can grow to be eight inches (which would explain why it seems they've grown an inch in the past month). I may have to take them back, because 24 inches of fish in a 20 gallon tank might qualify as fish cruelty. Not to mention there are three tiger barbs that are looking like they might be a little nervous.

 
7. Neighbors may not like my passive aggressive "re-transferring" of their trash to THEIR bin. But I do not give a quarter of a fuck. You make a lot of trash frat boys, I understand. But do not assume I'm not using my bin. And ESPECIALLY do not assume I'm not going to notice that your bags have wandered "innocuously" into my bin. You know by now that I'm just ignorant enough to do exactly what I did. Love ya! (not)

8. Apparently, I'm not enough of a diva for my 13 year old neighbor who bounded into my house yesterday, wandered back into my bedroom only to gape in horror as she watched me randomly trimming my hair in the mirror. When she asked me if I was afraid I might make a mistake, considering how difficult it was for me to actually see what I was doing, I replied..."It's hair. It'll grow back." Apparently, fabulous women do not say these things.

9. Ready for some shock and awe? How about some shock and euw? I've failed to mention the now mildly painful ganglion on the top of my right foot. Apparently, I dropped something heavy on my foot at some point (so sad that I've done that so many times I'm not sure which moment did it)...and over time and with running on top, I've formed this wondrous knot on the top of my foot that someone referred to as a testicle. Humph. After this series of tradeshows has ended, lil RPM must visit the podiatrist for removal or...*shudders* draining. It doesn't HURT persay, but I cannot wear any of the boots in my kickass boot collection, and this...will never do. But it's also going to mean a few weeks in a soft cast and crutchery if they actually decide to cut the thing out *faints*. That may mean no pottery for a bit (that's my pedal foot)...so let's root for drainage. Did I just say lets root for drainage? GACK!

10. I have no more random thoughts. Weren't those enough?