Tuesday, June 16, 2009


Every husband from time to time must serve his wife in manners which he is not fitted to actually do. Yesterday was one such time as I assisted my beloved in finding the Holy Grail. And by Holy Grail I mean 'the perfect swimsuit'. If the gov't has to give up waterboarding, they should seriously consider making the detainees help women find swimsuits. I know, at first glance, that seems like a job they might actually enjoy. But once they are past the first ten minutes, any thought of pleasure will be far out of mind and the endurance sport of trying to keep your eyes from crossing as you stand amidst a sea of ladies’ swimming garments being picked over by women you in no way would want to imagine wearing anything other than burkas.

The dungeon where this occurred has three floor racks, each with four racks: two on one side and two on the other.

Each rack has an estimated one hundred hangers for a total of twelve hundred suits that make up the clearance section. Here is the process we followed:

--My wife shops by touching each item, inspecting the tag first and foremost. If the price is discounted 'enough', then it warrants further inspection.

--Next the size is looked at. It must be a 'small' but also must be 'large enough'. This hearkens back to the principle that all women’s clothing should be size 'small' or 'zero' regardless of the actual dimensions.

--Lastly, the style is taken into consideration.

--If all of these criterions pass muster, the garment is then queued onto my wife’s’ arm.

--Once this queue is full, additional garments are passed on to her Sherpa (me) until enough items are collected to outfit a water polo team.

--Each of these garments are then tried on, complained about and ultimately rejected. The garments must then be replaced onto the rack where the hunt begins anew.

This process is then repeated until the husband’s mind is turned into mush. Due to us being "in a hurry", we only had to endure this three times, for a total of one hours and forty-five minutes. A few years ago, we ran a half-marathon (13.1 mi) in about the same amount of time. We found the grail and proceeded to begin our vacation, where new adventures awaited us.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Miscellaneous Items

Crack cocaine stinks to high heaven. Just a whiff is enough to make me nauseous. How the crap do people live like that?

Eight days in to the Atkins pain-and-suffering induction, I'm down 8#. Amazingly, I still have 16.6% body fat. I seriously don't know where all the fat goes... Is my head looking smaller?

Gorilla glue is the worst glue on the planet. Right now my hands look like they've got leprosy from that unworkable crap. It flows almost like water and then, as it dries, it expainds 2-3 times in volume, which generally messes up whatever your gluing. And it refuses to come off. Well, I guess that's a good thing about it, except it's such a mess.

Extras is hilarious. Props to Neuf for turning us on to that! Too bad they aren't making any more.

Tomorrow is our 14th anniversary! I'm looking forward to a day of vacation as we set off to Fulton, Mo to hang out a nice B&B and generally linger about, doing nothing. Tomorrow night we'll be going to the Stonehill Winery restaurant and I'll will break the Atkins diet with sauerbraten, red cabbage and potato pancakes. I'll break it like a Los Angelean breaks a plate glass window with a brick during a riot... I'll break it all to hell!