The holidays have been good, so far. I've been trying to relax and enjoy my time and even spend time away from being plugged into the net. It's been nice, and I can start making a list of all the things I need to do around the house. And yes, there's a list building...
Oh. I made a quiz about myself. If you want to take it, you can.
Other than that, it's bowling and hanging with people. Good times.
Be safe, fuckers.
I'm sorry I've been devoid of interesting content, but I just haven't been up to invest the time on topics... but the future will definitely be giving me stuff to blog about. Good times, bad times, crap and drama. Oh yes. It will be an interesting time ahead.
I have been watching you very closely to see if you have been good this year and since you have, I will tell my elves to make some goodies for me to leave under your tree at Christmas.
I was going to bring you all gifts from the 12 days of Christmas, but we had a little problem. The 12 fiddlers fiddling have all come down with a VD from fiddling with the 10 ladies dancing, the 11 lords leaping have knocked up the 8 maids a-milking, and the 9 pipers piping have been arrested for doing weird things to the 7 swans a-swimming.
The 6 geese a-laying, 4 calling birds, 3 French hens, 2 turtle doves, and the partridge in a pear tree have me up to my sled runners in bird crap.
On top of all this Mrs. Claus is going through menopause, 8 of my reindeer are in heat, the elves have joined the gay liberation, and some people who can't read a calendar have scheduled Christmas for the 5th of January.
Maybe next year I will be able to get things together and bring you the things you want. This year I suggest you get your butts down to Wal-Mart before everything is gone.
A mafioso's son is sitting at his desk, writing a Christmas list to Jesus. First he writes, "Dear Baby Jesus, I have been a good boy the whole year, so I want a new..." He looks at it, then crumples it up into a ball and throws it away.
He gets out a new piece of paper and writes again, "Dear Baby Jesus, I have been a good boy for most of the year, so I want a new..." He again looks at it with disgust and throws it away.
Then he gets an idea. He goes into his mother's room, takes a statue of the Virgin Mary, puts it in the closet, and locks the door. He takes another piece of paper and writes, "Dear Baby Jesus. If you ever want to see your mother again..."
Three thousand five hundred miles away / But what would you change if you could? ~ Counting Crows, "Raining in Baltimore"
I know I posted the lyrics to this song recently, but the above lines have been sticking out in my head a lot. It's making me wonder: What would I change if I could? I'll probably do some thinking on the topic, but what would you change in your life if you could?
Interesting tidbit about the song quoted above... This was taken from AnnaBegins.com, and I assume it came from an interview or the VH1 Storytellers session:
"It's a rare song about being 50 miles from nowhere and wanting to be somewhere else with someone that you miss -- but also realizing that you set this situation up for yourself. This is the saddest, bitterest song on the record for me. As a listener, you're supposed to realize that even though he wishes he is far away, he set it up like that. It's probably easier for him to be miserable and far away." ~Adam Duritz
Mr. Johnson had been retired for a year when his wife of 50 years suggested they take a cruise: "We could go somewhere for a week, and make wild love like we did when we were young!" He thought it over and agreed.
He put on his hat and went down to the pharmacy, where he bought a bottle of seasick pills and a box of condoms. Upon returning home, his wife said, ''I've been thinking. There is no reason we can't go for a month." So, Mr. Johnson went back to the pharmacy and asked for 12 bottles of seasick pills and a box of condoms. When he returned his wife said, ''You know, since the children are on their own, what's stopping us from cruising the world?"
So back to the pharmacy he went, and brought 297 bottles of seasick pills and the same amount of condoms up to the counter. The pharmacist finally had to ask: "You know, Mr. Johnson, you have been doing business with me for over 30 years. I certainly don't mean to pry, but if it makes you that sick, why the hell do you do it?"
This circus is falling down on its knees The big top is crumbling down It's raining in Baltimore fifty miles east Where you should be, no one's around I need a phone call I need a raincoat I need a big love I need a phone call These train conversations are passing me by And I don't have nothing to say You get what you pay for But I just had no intention of living this way I need a phone call I need a plane ride I need a sunburn I need a raincoat And I get no answers And I don't get no change It's raining in Baltimore, baby But everything else is the same There's things I remember and things I forget I miss you I guess that I should Three thousand five hundred miles away But what would you change if you could? I need a phone call Maybe I should buy a new car I can always hear a freight train baby if I listen real hard And I wish it was a small world Because I'm lonely for the big towns I'd like to hear a little guitar I guess it's time to put the top down I need a phone call I need a raincoat
A New York Divorce Lawyer died and arrived at the pearly gates. Saint Peter asks him "What have you done to merit entrance into Heaven?"
The Lawyer thought a moment, then said, "A week ago, I gave a quarter to a homeless person on the street."Saint Peter asked Gabriel to check this out in the record, and after a moment Gabriel affirmed that this was true.Saint Peter said, "Well, that's fine, but it's not really quite enough to get you into Heaven."
The Lawyer said, "Wait Wait! There's more! Three years ago I also gave a homeless person a quarter."Saint Peter nodded to Gabriel, who after a moment nodded back, affirming this, too, had been verified.
Saint Peter then whispered to Gabriel, "Well, what do you suggest we do with this fellow?"
Gabriel gave the Lawyer a sidelong glance, then said to Saint Peter - "Give him back his 50 cents and tell him to go to Hell!"
An 8-year-old girl went to her dad, who was working in the yard. She asked him, "Daddy, what is sex?"
The father was surprised that she would ask such a question, but decided that if she is old enough to ask the question, then she is old enough to get a straight answer. He proceeded to tell her all about the birds and the bees.
When he finished explaining, the little girl was looking at him with her mouth hanging open.
The father asked her, "Why did you ask this question?"
The little girl replied, "Mom told me to tell you that dinner would be ready in just a couple of secs."
