Saturday Morning Cartoons

Whatever happened to Saturday morning cartoons? I remember growing up, I loved the cartoon section. Maybe even more than the Sports section. Maybe it was just that I loved Calvin and Hobbes. Man that was some funny shit. I mean, does it get any funnier than this?








Maybe, this?








Or this.









Nowadays, there just isn't that much to look forward to in the comics anymore. Maybe Shoe will come up with something great like this:







Or maybe Dilbert will somehow manage to perfectly capture my life in some way that makes me life while almost crying, such as this:








Most likely though, I'll accidentally read Family Circle (As perfectly captured in the movie Go, which for some reason I can't find a clip of on Youtube...), or Lucy, or any of the other piles of suck that pass for comics these days, and end up trying to scrape my eyeballs out with my cereal spoon. Is it me? Or is the papers? I'd like to think it's the papers, but it's not impossible that I'm souring in my old age.

Yowzah

Despite the fears of Mrs. T, Joey T gave his first Triathlon a shot this weekend. (Placing number 111) Hell, I ran three steps the other day and pulled up lame. Nice work Joey, now get to work on that pig roast so you can put a little more fat on.

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Monday, schmonday. The boss is back at work today, which has already caused me to have to pay attention to my job today. (Which, obviously, is BS. I'm going to pull the JR and only use initials for curses for a while. Let's see how long that lasts.) Whenever my boss is out of the office for a long stretch (this time, for over about a month) it's a mixed blessing. I tend to get more done while he's gone, but then he comes back and I have to spend the first couple days justifying everything that happened while he was gone. Let's just say the frustration factor is high. Is it Friday yet?

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Currently reading: Underworld by Don Delillo. Interesting book, but not necessarily fast going. Doesn't help that the f'er is about a thousand f'ing pages. I've heard DeLillo's writings to be called "overstylized" and I guess I can see where that's coming from, but so far I'm enjoying it.

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In important breaking news, Robert Plant was born on this date in 1948.

Frank Caliendo does Seinfeld

If you like Seinfeld, you have no choice but to check this out. Frank Caliendo is a Genius.

it's summertime, and the living is quesy

I'm sitting on my couch, drinking a Blue Moon Summer Ale (<--- Delicioso), watching the the METS and El Duque match up against John Smoltz and the Braves. As much as I've always found the Braves to be mind numbingly boring, although this year I have John Smoltz on my Fantasy team so I've found myself actually watching a few games.

So... Some things are right in the world. Baseball in the summer, beer in the hand, life is good. Unfortunately, next to me a storm cloud is gathering.

Yup.

The wifey is writing thank you notes.

Now, there are very rarely times when I'm not glad to be a man. Never have I been more glad though, then during the planning for the wedding. Quite simply, men have it easy during wedding planning. Real easy. My entire job consisted of making sure that there was enough wine in the house to get the soon to be wifey through all of the trials and tribulations of being a bride. (Now, that was no small amount of wine, but still, not a hard job. Figuring out where to seat everyone so that everyone would be happy? Harder job. Wine helped though.)

Anyways, the wifey is writing thank you notes. It's a little scary, and she keeps stealing my beer. And she's only on the third note.

So the wifey is writing notes, and while I'm being supportive-ish, my brother is spooning the dogface on the other couch. Honestly, I think they're going to have puppies soon. (They do make quite a cute couple, actually.) What would you call that? An Irish/ Italian/ English/ Scottish/ Boxer/ German Shephard? Probably couldn't give those puppies away. They would certainly be stubborn as hell.

Anyways, I think I have to go hide now.

Some summer reading, maybe a bit late

So some great big important news to start off this day: Goods is back, at a new location. He starts his comeback with a post, that, umm, just announces his comeback. I'm assuming there will be more to come soon.

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I've been reading a bunch this summer, some books have certainly been better than others. If you've read anything good this summer, go ahead and throw it in the comments section. Goody, this would exclude your php manuals and how to make babies books.

The Winter of Frankie Machine by Don Winslow
This is hardly the first mob/detective novel out there, but it might be the first surfing/detective/mob hitman story out there. This is the perfect book for the a beach blanket, light, interesting, and a quick read.

A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore
If you haven't read any books by Christopher Moore, I'm not sure this is the first one I would recommend. Either Lamb, the Gospel according to Biff Christ's Childhood Pal or Bloodsucking Fiends would be a better starting point. Moore writes fantastical stories with outlandish plot lines, yet somehow recognizable characters. In A Dirty Job, the main character, who is basically "your average Joe", becomes Death. Funny and zany situations ensue.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling
For those who haven't gotten in on the Harry Potter phenomenon, I understand. You're not a child, you don't like fantasy books, blah, blah. But seriously, give it a shot. These are fun, energetic books that whir by. I think it took me about 5 hours to read this last one, and it was a fun five hours. And the characters? Let's just say that most literary works don't have characters with this many shades of grey.

Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane
Dennis Lehane is the author of Mystic River, which was a good book but was actually a better movie. He also has a series of five books out that feature the same two characters in a Spenser for Hire sort of vibe. These are all good enough books, well worth a read if you like those sort of books. In my opinion, Shutter Island was his best. It starts out as a murder/mystery based in the 1950's, and becomes, well, more. I don't want to ruin any of the details, but let's just say that by the end of the book, any surprise or shock that you feel has been earned.

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Don't worry Goody, next time I'll write about something with moving pictures.

A question of Bandwagons...

OK, here's a quick question for you all.

I have a dilemna. (Goody, just so you know, a dilemna is defined as a problem with more than one solution. I mean answer. Sorry, I'll try to stay from the big words.)

So I have a problem with more than one answer. (Is that better Goody?)

I need a new Celtics hat. Not because they signed Garnett, but because I have officially sweated through the old one, and it is kind of disgusting. My problem is, I really don't want to be identified as a bandwagon fan. So should I wait a while and then buy a new hat? Buy a new hat and just deal with the grief from bandwagon fans? (If there are any.)

Help me Obi Wan, you're my only hope.

Landmark Weekend

Big weekend in sports landmarks my peeps. Arod hits 500, Bonds ties Aaron, and Tom Glavine wins 300. Also, Tiger Woods made Rory Sabbatini his bitch.

Woo hoo.

The correct, and predictable reaction, to the first two was a collective yawn. (Or more accurately, a "well at least that's taken care of.") Nobody seems to think 500 homeruns will be the biggest achievement of ARod's career, nor does anybody think that Bonds hit 755 without some, well, artificial assistance.

Hell, everybody seems to think that it's just a matter of time before ARod breaks any record that Bonds sets. You'd think a quick flashback to the mid nineties and Griffey Jr. would be enough for people to remember that breaking records of longevity are not sure things, but whatever. I have to be honest, I just don't care. At all. Personally, home runs are about my least favorite thing to watch in baseball. I'd rather watch a triple or an inside the park home run any day. (Favorite play in baseball: The straight steal of home.)

Tom Glavine's achievement interests me a bit. Mostly because I've always thought that Glavine is one of those professional athlete's who gets absolutely no credit for being a good athlete. He was drafted in the 4th round of the NHL draft, which has to count for something. (I mean, in 1984 that counted for something. Doesn't really count for anything now, sorry hockey fans. All three of you.) That and the fact that we were born in the same town, and one of my neighbors was actually his HS teacher. Other than that, I honestly couldn't care less.

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Did anything else interesting happen this weekend? Does me taking back the recycling count? How about mowing the lawn? Does that count?

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How sad is that I am anxiously awaiting the start of Celtics season. I mean, I know it's sad, but is it Real Sad, Really Really Sad, or just simply Pathetic? It's certainly somewhere in there.

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Also, was this the most boring blog ever? Might have been, might have been.

Buckets and Buckets of Sweaty Goodness

Title = My new nickname.

Seriously, I work at a computer. It shouldn't make me sweat. As I type this, my fingers are slipping off of the keys because they are a bit slimy and sweaty.

I am one hot bitch. Damn I'm attractive.

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So, umm, this heat is really getting to me. I made the wifey cut all my hair off. It was getting too long anyways, so I figured it was time to make my head a bit more, shall we say, aerodynamic. Yee haw.

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I need Gold Bond.

Bad.

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What I wouldn't give for a sweet, sweet beer right now. Only a cold Corona (or even better, a Land Shark) could possibly keep my brains from boiling inside my big fat skull.

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I want to make sweet, sexy times with a glacier. Seriously, do you think the wifey would be jealous if I humped an iceburg? Do you think this is how Frosty the Snowman came into being?

This day can't end fast enough.