Entries from October 2006 ↓

Dumbest question I’ve heard all day: "Does anybody know what the hours for Trick or Treat are this year?"

When my fear of people and social anxiety disorder hurts people I like, that is when I want to get help most of all.

I like my job. I really do. But it makes me sad to pop open Bloglines, scan down the new Nashville blog entries, only to find this:

"Michael Fox is a uselss [sic] idiot dupe of the Democrats. He is pathetic and his disease gives him no excuses."

I would never have read this hateful and ignorant blogger if it weren’t for the Nashville Is Talking gig. I’m not sure if I was better off not having to ingest this sort of nastiness or if I’m a bigger person because of it.

All I know is that it makes me sad. The vitriol and venom that some of these folks put forth on a daily basis makes me wonder how toxic they must be in real life. And miserable.

Check out my super rad birthday present. I’ve wanted a bento lunchpail for a long time. And now I have one, thanks to the boyfriend.

Can’t wait to get started over here.

The boyfriend, whose never been that into baseball, on the finale of the World Series: "Okay see, they win and the crowd goes nuts, but it just looks weird with no fans on the field. The whole country is watching twelve dudes lay on each other."

I read a good bit of writing about food. I love restaurant reviews and I often read Waiter Rant. Right now I’m reading an article about extreme calorie restricting and its effect on life longevity.

Too often food writers use the phrase "tuck into" to mean eat. For instance, "I find myself now tucking into April Smith’s cilantro-infused
scallops-and-arugula salad as if it were the best salad I have ever
tasted…" I see it all the time. And every time I cringe. Something about it I just can’t stand. It’s frequency of use is number one with a bullet, though.

I was out walking the dogs again this morning (funny how that always happens) when Cooper decided it was time to dump. He did the circle around and sniff dance, which let me know that he was about to go, then backed his butt up to the only Corker for Senate sign on our street.

Before I could get the bag on my hand to pick up the poo, Cooper had begun the kicking of the back legs thing that some dogs do after they go. This sent grass and dirt and poo flying up onto the Corker sign, creating a sizeable stinky splat.

I cleaned it up, but while doing so I couldn’t help but laugh, because I always knew who Coop was rooting for.

P.S. Cooper’s black, so that’s no real shocker.

1. "I would like shove brittney off the side of Bright Angel Point at the Grand Canyon in mid October."
2. "You are a pig fucker and once you had sex with yourself and a cup of yogurt at
   the same time, but you got headbutted by a bison and your left nut got
   bitten off by a barn owl with 2.3 eyes and 19 testicles (yes you are a man
   posing as a woman so you can rape and kill small unsuspecting children)
   and you then killed a cop and got away with it because you let him shit on your face and video tape it."