it was pointed out at work this morning that there are only 54 days left until christmas. i'd like to make an even more exciting observation: there is less than a day left before halloween candy is 25% off*. let me share with you the happy dance i have already begun practicing, not only in celebration of this fact, but also because it's a great way for me to preburn all of the calories i'll be ingesting (at bargain prices!) over the next few weeks:
granted, if i had a kid, i would have access to free candy....and free exercise! i suppose i won't fully understand what it's like to be a parent until i have kids of my own, but i think i've worked out what a brilliant plan the whole "let me check your candy for razor blades" routine is. i mean, really. when i was little, i fully believed the stories my parents fed me about nefarious sorts tampering with my goodies. i know now that the annual "screening of the treat bag" always resulted in a dramatic decrease of reese's peanut butter cups, tainted not with poison, but with deliciousness. do you recall your parents ever "finding" pins/razor/blades/swiss army knives sticking out of those nasty hunks of wax that are wrapped in orange and black wax paper and passed off as "caramels"? of course not! the "tainted" stuff was always the good stuff. post-"screening", the ratio of mary janes, twizzlers* and those little pieces of bubble gum that lose all semblance of sweetness by about the third volley between the teeth to milky ways, caramellos, and the aforementioned peanut butter cups was dramatically different from the pre-"screening" ratio. i'm pretty sure if i'd thought to check the trash can instead of spending my post-"screening" time sorting my goodies into little piles (inedibles vs. edibles- further sorted into coins**, stickers/toys, and candy by type/brand***), i would have learned the horrible truth: the wrappers made it to the trash, but their contents made it into a receptacle of another sort- the warm confines of my parents' bellies. (actually, knowing my parents, who knew that my sibling and i were relatively bright, precocious kids, the wrappers were probably hidden a couple of layers down in the trash can, under the eggshells and coffee grounds.)
perhaps i should ask for a kid in another 53 days or so. until then, you'll probably find me in the "bargain candy" aisle at kroger. * and about a week before it's half price. granted, most of the good stuff will probably be gone by that point, but still........ **good only for whacking people you don't like, in my humble opinion ***$2 in quarters was a great haul....and i can't say i'd turn it down today, either. ****m&m's, reese's pieces and skittles were further sorted by color, but that's not confined to halloween. i'm just a little weird like that.
in honor of the upcoming holiday, last night at chez duff we had an ernie hudson film festival. i was going to tell you all about it, from my pondering why hi-c no longer makes ecto cooler* to deciding whether or not the fact that i remember when brandon lee was killed while filming "the crow" qualifies me as a geezer or not to trying to work out why they still haven't made a sequel to the ghostbusters sequel**. that was the plan. however, the words just aren't flowing freely for me today. eh, it happens. so, instead of going into detail on all of the above, i'm going to present you with a preview of this evening's feature presentation:
*does anyone have a delorean i can borrow? i need to go back to 2001 and ask the powers that be over at Hi-C what right they have to kill Slimer. **should the movie be made, i would like to suggest this addition to the cast.
i don't know about you, but i'm my most productive when i'm procrastinating. i have things to do today. actually, there's just one big thing that has to be done- a mountain of paperwork for job #3. however, i'm having a hard time getting focused. i keep thinking of other things i need to do around here- the downside of working from home. it's not that i haven't accomplished anything since i rolled out of bed. au contraire, mon frere. 10:00 am- rolled out of bed* 10:05 am- cat fed. green tea #1 brewed. morning whiz taken. witty observation posted on facebook. 10:10 am- ignore cat's threats to notify the aspca of my negligence, as her bowl is empty already and she is not-so-subtly rubbing against my leg in a way that guides me to the cabinet where her food is stored. notice kitchen counters are, well, kind of nasty. 10:20 am- kitchen counters have been scrubbed. ziploc baggies i meant to rinse a while back have been added to the recycle pile instead. green tea #2 brewed. morning whiz #2 taken.** 10:30 am- feline assault on ankles while i finish wrapping a care package for best friend from high school. throw handful of treats into another room to distract mini sabertooth for about a minute and a half. notice pile for goodwill is growing, but is not yet large enough to be carted off. decide to go through closet. i don't wear all of the hundred something t-shirts i own. 10:30:30 am: i haven't worn the purple tank top since i last hauled out my rasta overalls***, but it's the only shirt that matches them, and i should keep it, just in case. 10:31 am: but i love my collection of hard rock cafe shirts. can't get rid of those. they're collector's items! 10:33 am: but i love my collection of kdlx shirts. can't get rid of those. they're collector's items! 10:35 am: but i love my collection of columbia radio station shirts. can't get rid of those. they're collector's items! 10:40 am: add three whole shirts to the goodwill pile. 10:45 am: during whiz #3**, notice rubber duckie shower curtain's feeling the funk. spray it into submission with half a bottle of tilex. also notice cat had been gnawing on wallpaper in bathroom. admonish cat, who is too busy complaining about her empty food bowl to listen to what i have to say. 10:50 am: start dragging materials for job #3 into living room, as i can't work at desk, lest i be tempted to check facebook 50 bajillion times to see if anyone has responded to this morning's witty, insightful post. 10:52 am: you know, if i'm going to try to post to my blog daily, i should probably get today's post taken care of. otherwise, i may be too busy pondering what to write to get any work done. head to computer, stopping to fix comforter on bed along the way as, for once, its disheveled appearance bothers me.**** 10:54 am: check facebook again. no one has responded to my witty, insightful post. perhaps the fun people aren't awake yet. 10:55 am: google chrome crashes while blogging. 10:55:30 am: google chrome crashes while blogging. 10:56 am: @#$%^&$$%^%ing google chrome! walk away for a minute, lest i give in to the temptation to beat my monitor with my keyboard.***** decide to use this time to hunt for cat's missing toys. 10:58 am: two balls, seven mice, and four toothmarks on my ankle later, i return to computer to post. cat follows me, threatening to call the authorities to report animal abuse, as her bowl has now been empty for over 45 minutes. bring to her attention her lack of opposable thumbs, preventing her from being able to dial the phone. 10:58:30 am: cat stages sit-in on top of computer keyboard. since chrome has crashed again anyway, return to kitchen to obtain more treats to buy myself approximately two minutes of peace. 11:00 am: close door to bedroom and sit back down at the computer. spend next 45 minutes alternating between typing and hitting "save", lest chrome go down again. 11:45 am: post finished. despite the fact that i have clearly accomplished a lot today, decide to spend rest of day working. for real.****** *before you give me a hard time about this, i'd like to point out that this is the time i usually get up on the weekends- after going to bed at roughly 7:15, as i work an overnight shift for job #4. apparently, my body got a little confused about the whole "weekday vs. weekend" thing. maybe the beatles were onto something with their "8 days a week" idea...... **perhaps i should slow down a little on the tea, huh? ***i'm pretty sure that was in college. ****my own disheveled appearance, however, is another matter. i'm not planning on leaving home, except to work out, and i can easily avoid mirrors until then, provided green teas #1 and #2 don't run through too quickly. *****this is a thought i find myself entertaining more and more, since switching to chrome. ******just as soon as i feed the cat and brew another cup of tea, that is.
my original plan was to post about something completely different today, but then i saw this. given that i'm notoriously hard to shop for, let me help everyone out by telling you i now know what i want for my birthday*. there are 2087 days left (at the time of this writing) until my 40th birthday. by that point, billy idol will be 62 years old. given that he currently looks like this:
(he's on the right in this AP photo, for those who've lived under a rock for the past 30 years) ......what are the odds he'll still be able to dance around in a pair of leather pants (and not much else) without becoming the subject of ridicule in another 2087 days? actually, i'd say they're pretty good. he's billy freaking idol, after all. however, what if i no longer look good prancing around in leather pants by that point? (actually, come to think of it, i don't think it's possible for leather pants to look good on yours truly. some attire just isn't designed to flatter short people.) i don't want our meeting to be like one of those bad blind dates where you know what the other person's wearing but lie to them about what you'll be wearing so that when you first lay eyes upon them and realize they look not so much like gerard butler,
but more like gerard depardieu in drag,
you can try to obscure your face (with the groucho marx glasses you've thoughtfully stashed in your pocket, just because you knew it was highly unlikely that gerard butler's twin would actually be single and ready to mingle on www-dot-singleandlonely-dot-com***) and make a hasty exit, stage left, followed by faking your death in an effort to discourage further contact. though billy idol in groucho marx glasses does make for an interesting mental picture, perhaps it'd be best to hedge our bets. there are 260ish days until my 35th birthday. i'll work on looking good in leather pants**** if you can figure out how to get me billy idol for my birthday. *besides a shetland pony**.
**and new wheels for my rollerblades, which will undoubtedly have been worn down to the point that simply strapping them on will cause folks in vegas to start betting on how soon i'll make an involuntary skin donation to the asphalt down at the columbia canal. ***i was afraid to make that an actual link, as whatever it points to probably has either way too many internet cooties or way too many folks living with their parents not because of the economy or because they're acting as caregivers, but because the rest of society finds them socially unfit. ****you wouldn't happen to be able to recommend any stilt-walking classes, would you?
dear song pop app, i love you. in fact, i love you so much that i have gotten other people to add you to their iwhatevers so i can borrow said iwhatevers and play on their behalf, because i know that if i install you on my facebook (given that the only iwhatever i have is an old school ipod nano), i will be too busy cultivating my song-identifying skills to get anything else done. with that in mind, i feel i must share one tiny observation. i know it may seem like a small thing to you, but because of my nitpickiness combined with my geeky musical obsession, particularly with that produced by men wearing spandex and aquanet, it's a huge deal to me. please, please, for the love of all that is holy (or, in the cases of the jeans of many bands of that era- holey), fix the typo regarding track 5 of poison's "flesh and blood album". back in the day, bobby dall was pretty skinny. therefore, i can assure you that c.c. deville and bret michaels would not write a song needling him for putting on a few extra pounds. admittedly, i have not seen a photo of him lately, but somehow i doubt he's aged like certain other leather-clad rockers, whose physiques reveal the pitfalls of being able to afford luxuriously fattening gourmet cuisine. (mike reno, i'm looking at you.) should you wish to double check the video to ensure i know of what i speak (do you really doubt me? really? maybe our problem is bigger than poison, then....), i am including it for your reference:
love, duff
p.s.~ there's no need to tell me i told you so. i already know.
have you ever noticed how, when trying to catch your connecting flight, the distance between your arriving and departing gates is inversely proportional to the amount of time you have to cover that distance? coming back from arizona recently, i found myself at the memphis airport with a hair over two hours to kill. in some airports (atlanta, salt lake city- i'm looking at you), this would be ideal, as my flights are inevitably separated by the greatest number of gates within the terminal, if not the greatest possible number of terminals themselves. memphis, however, really isn't that big. (not that all of my favorite airports are big ones, mind you. while i like having plenty to look at in the event of a long layover, my favorite airport thus far is the one in west yellowstone, mt, where the baggage claim and the front sidewalk are one and the same.) in fact, when one has over two hours to make their connecting flight, which is located one gate over from their arriving flight, there is only one rational thing to do in memphis. okay- make that two rational things to do, but i'm just not a huge fan of barbeque. yes, dear reader, i spent the better part of my layover looking for the king. the last time i came through memphis, there he was, in all of his denim and rhinestone glory. (you'll have to take my word for it, because i was in such a rush to rifle through my backpack, dig out my camera and snap a photo of him before he boarded the shuttle to the other terminal that instead of a hunka hunka burning love, i got all shook up and wound up with a hound dog.....and a blurry one, at that.) there would not be a repeat of that debacle. i was in it to win it. i had the camera ready.
i was ready to do that sneering lip thing, perfected by both him and billy idol*. i was willing to accept him in whichever form i could get: old, young, thin, fat, hunchbacked, lazy-eyed, or even a little confused. (sure, they're not as famous, but i'm sure the elvis costello impersonators are out there, too.) i would've settled for someone wearing blue suede shoes, for goodness sakes. however, as i wandered down the last hallway for the last time, i realized it just wasn't meant to be.
you see, i clearly recall there being a shuttle and a statue of a flying pig- neither of which were present at the memphis airport. (trust me, i was thorough.) both, however, can be found at the cincinnati airport.**
so, when this realization settled in after an hour and a half of wandering, i did the next logical thing. (no, not barbeque. haven't we been over this already?) i wandered over to the elvis shop and bought postcards with pictures of elvis and his favorite recipes on them, which i spent the next half hour scribbling out for my friends and relations under the watchful eye of my new elvis-impersonating bear. his name is costello. *no chance of seeing the latter in the memphis airport. i'm a realist.*** **what was elvis doing in cincinnati and not memphis? i do not know. discounting the possibility that he was being interviewed on wkrp that weekend, it doesn't make much sense to me, either. ***and i'd already checked the tour dates on his website.
****okay- i'm a little rusty. however, the return part is the more important part, isn't it?
