A Little Confidence Can Be Dangerous

I love my alma mater.

The Idaho State Bengals had a bit of a heartbreaking season last year, finishing 1-11. While it's true that they never held an opponent under 29 points, only once did they allow over 50, and in all but two games, they scored in the double digits.

Fresh off their season ending 36-33 overtime victory over Miss Porter's Sacremento State, and apparently brimming with the confidence that only a one-game winning streak can bring, they've boldly put themselves in a position to crash the BCS party by scheduling ... Oklahoma.

Yes, THAT Oklahoma.

To their credit, they've scheduled something of a "tune-up" game the week before, when they'll take on Arizona State. Reigning Heisman Trophy winner Sam Bradford will rue the day he decided to stay on for his senior year. If you think a Gator is tough, Sammy, wait 'til you face a hungry Bengal tiger.

This is the headline on Idaho State's web page:

Apparently Florida Was Not Available ... Bengals to Take on Oklahoma in Football

Unfortunately, the game is in Norman, and the pansy-ass chicken-shit white-bread-eatin' Sooners were too scared to agree to a "home and away" series. Pussies.

Go Bengals. Chase the dream.



Above: ISU Bengal, totally not looking scared about playing Oklahoma.

I Got Nothin' ...

I haven't been struck by anything lately. Ok, that's not quite true - I should say no thoughts for a blog post have struck me lately (and sweet jeebus, lady, I didn't mean that at ALL how you took it, and anyway, an accusatory "excuse me?" would have sufficed and given me a chance to apologize. But nice right cross!). So another of those lame-o odds 'n' ends posts, because I feel guilty about being unproductive on government time.

Pitchers and catchers (and injured players) report in 19 days, and the all-important Cleveland-San Francisco spring opener is in 30 days. In a sad Cleveland/Giants related note, Omar Vizquel is now a member of the Texas Rangers (the baseball team, not the law enforcement agency) and is slated to be their utility infielder. Their alleged starting shortstop, however, is only 20 and has never played above AA (that's double-A baseball; he's not an alcoholic. Nobody would blame him if he started drinking, though, now that his team just acquired the greatest shortstop of all time, who happens to have plenty of glove AND bat left in him).

One of the more disconcerting thoughts one can have, as one is drunkenly smashing a ceiling out using a 3-foot crowbar with reckless abandon and peering up after the plaster has fallen down all around, is "hmmm ... who'da thunk they'd run the electrical THERE?"

I Guess The Ibuprofen Kicked In Or Something

No golden slumbers last night, as I was on a very uncomfortable couch and not at my house, so this morning I was hurting from lack of sleep and my back was killing me.

Oddly, right around noon, everything started feeling better.

A few thoughts about the inauguration:

* Obama mispronounced "nucular".

* A human being probably would have been a bit uncomfortable sitting listening to a speech in which they're essentially getting raked over the coals for their colossal ineptness and general fucktardosity. Bush didn't seem bothered at all.

* When I'm president, the Chief Justice will only be allowed to say four words at a time during the oath before pausing to let me repeat them. Plus, he'll have a copy in front of him so he doesn't screw it up.

* I can appreciate that Yo Yo Ma and friends are quite talented, but come on, are you trying to put people to sleep? Steve Earle would have rocked the joint.

[UPDATE:] This, from The Bloggess, is definitely the best live-blogging of the inauguration on the interwebs.

[UPDATEx2:] Ok, 2 hours and 20 minutes into this thing ... Gitmo is still open, we're still at war in one country and occupying another, and my portfolio hasn't recovered. EPIC FAIL.

Today's Post Is Brought To You By The Letter "L"

I love the regional differences in lingual pronunciation - the sweet southern drawl, the New England assault on the world of vowels, the hominess of the north-midwestern "you betcha." Viva la difference, as our freedom French friends say.

Among the more subtle variations is the "l" in such words as talk and walk. I think most people don't say it at all, and pronounce the words as "tock" and "wok." Every once in a while, you'll hear someone voice just the slightest hint of it. But you'll never hear that "l" pronounced so clearly as when you're at the hardware store and some guy says to the employee "Yeah, I'm looking for some caulk."

Ah, caulk. Perhaps the funniest word in the juvenile/immature section of our lexicon. How can you not giggle at such classics as

"Damn. My caulk's not straight."

and

"Wow, it's gonna take a lot of caulk to fill that huge crack!"

and

"Eww, the caulk oozed all over my hands."

Sometimes, when you're just a little down and you need a good chuckle, the 5th grade stuff does the job quite nicely.

And for our topical musical link:


The Motels - Take The L

Why'd We Have To Have All These Kids, Anyway?

Just a quick note to all you young newlyweds whose religion might suggest you start pumping out them zoobies as regularly as possible: Yes, the bible says "Go forth and multiply!", but I'm pretty sure God would be cool with it if you multiplied by .5 or by 1.

Sweet pickled pomegranates, it's a vagina, not a clown car.

Sometimes A Little Education Is All It Takes

It's so bothersome listening to those gay "marriage" proponents with all their "equal rights" this and "non-discrimination" that and their inability to understand that legalizing same-sex "marriage" will undermine the very bedrock upon which our society is built and diminish the true meaning of my one-man-one-woman-the-way-god-intended-it divorce.

Luckily, there's a short educational film that should clear up, once and for all, any questions about what dangers such wrong-headed thinking holds for our way of life:



Adam and Steve, indeed. Gracious!

Odds 'N' Ends

An actual conversation at the bar the other night between me and some guy I didn't know:

SGIDK: "How was the skiing today?"

Me: "I didn't go."

SGIDK: "Well, what the hell happened to your hair then?"

And one between me and the Live Acorn the other day as I was showing her this blog:

LA: "Cool! How many followers do you have?"

Me: "ummm ... one, I think."

LA: (pausing just long enough to communicate how truly pathetic she thinks I am) "Oh."

The fog this morning was pretty darn cool, except for the hordes of undead zombies roaming the streets in search of human flesh upon which to feast. That part sucked.

.........................................................

I discovered that my bad psycho-dog gets really freaked out when she's on the bed and you move your hand under the bedspread toward her. I mean REALLY freaked out, like jumping 3 feet in the air freaked out. I've gone from telling her to get off the bed to actually encouraging her to get up there just so I can do it. I hope it's true that all dogs go to heaven, so there won't be any where I wind up to exact their revenge.

I Come Not To Bury The Dead Acorn, But To Appraise Him

The appraiser is coming over today to take a look at Casa de Acorn for a refinance. They don’t take off for messiness or dog hair, right? ‘Cause if they do, I am SO screwed.

I’m pretty sure how it will go:

Me: So? What do you think?

Appraiser: Hmm. Well, I see by this bathroom in progress that you’ve got the ambition for home improvement projects. And I saw in the garage that you’ve got quite the assortment of power tools … all the right stuff to get job done.

On the other hand, it doesn’t take Norm Abram to recognize that you have absolutely no fucking idea what you’re doing. I’m going to rate this place as the assessed value of the lot minus $15,000 to bulldoze the structure and haul it away.

Oh, and nice tree, jackass.

This Has To Stop

Ever since my stupid doctor told me to keep my fat intake down, which resulted in my glancing at the nutritional information on the back of a bacon package (1 serving equals 1 slice? Are you f*#king kidding me?), which further resulted in me not devouring a 1/2 pound of it each weekend morning, I've been seeing my blog like this (click the link to get a glimpse into the nightmarish hell that my world has become):

The Dead Acorn

I swear, if I meet a girl wearing bacon perfume, I'll marry her*.

*Ok, I'll be really smitten and make some bumbling attempt to try to talk to her, which would lead to her backing away slowly (or throwing a beer on me and running away quickly) and me attempting to follow her, which some judges, believe it or not, interpret as behavior meriting a restraining order, and screw you, Judge Hastings, I was just trying to talk to her.

Art Imitating Life

Megan is a big fan* of XKCD, which is an oddly-named webcomic. I find it hilarious as well, even though it's about (among other things) math and romance, two subjects I'm not real strong in.

I particularly identified strongly with this one:



A phone should ring, damnit, not make you feel like you're walking out to the United terminal at O'Hare.

* Megan has a healthy fanaticism with regards to XKCD. Megan is not a fan who is big.

*Cough Cough* Is It Dusty In Here?

I’m going to do it some day. I’m going to wake up, and instead of going to work, I’m just going to get in the car and drive. It won’t take more than an hour or so to load the bikes, throw a few clothes into a bag, and be gone. I’ll know when that day is when I first open my eyes – there won’t be the slightest doubt in my mind.

I don’t really like to plan trips or vacations or anything like that. But this is different. It’s a lot easier when there’s no deadline, no set date, and you know you’re not coming back. It’s actually been enjoyable over the last X number of years, writing the letter explaining what to do with all my stuff, rewriting it as things change, you know, just trying to keep things current. There’s not a lot to take care of, so it’s not exactly a Herculean task. Therapeutic, nonetheless.

Some day, it’ll happen. I don’t know when, and I’m not sure where I’ll wind up. But goddamn, the dust that’s been building up over all these years will finally be shaken off. You’ll see that cloud rise up, you’ll see it from across town, you’ll see it from across the goddamned state, I tell you. Then you’ll see it settle back down on everyone who’s still waiting for their day. Meanwhile, I’ll be wondering where to head next, but not really caring all that much.

Some day. But not today.

Maybe I’ll just buy a Swiffer … the person on TV tells me they’re much better than those old feather dusters.

2008: The Year In Review

A look back at some of the accomplishments during the last year:

1) Dog didn't die.

2) Only got hit by a car while riding my bike once.

Pretty good goddamned year, I'd say.