What Is Love? Let's Ask The 90s

What is love? If you ask me, love comes down to trust and respect, which are earned and given, choices we make daily. Most importantly, trust doesn’t mean never having questions, it means knowing that there’s an answer and it’s only a question away.

On the other hand, if you watched this video you'd think it has something to do with mandarin collars, capes, and leopard print leotards. Egads, I couldn't watch the whole thing.  Can you?

Sassy Is Mad At Ingrid For No Real Good Reason

You might have noticed we've been listening to Ingrid Michaelson lately. (By which I mostly mean "I've been listening" far more.) It was accidental, she popped up on my Pandora one day. I noticed her song You and I and liked it because it had a great line about wanting to do what bunnies do (with you-know-who). Awwww.

Crooners

Sassy and I caught Chuck Ragan playing some tunes in Fullerton before his London tour this past weekend. Even though I'd seen him play plenty of times in Hot Water Music, I had never seen his solo act live before. We enjoyed ourselves greatly, and Sass took a real good picture.

Aren't you glad everybody uses Dial?

Quick Shots

Blog posts are going to be a bit rarer around here until at least November. There are some reasons for this, and they are as follows:

#1. My book deadline is November 4th, I think. I should know this, but all I know right now is good, and ball, and...

It's Saturday, So...

Know what that means?

90% chance of going to this place.

There Will Be Grease

McDonald's is not an eatery that anyone other than my dad would say "tastes good." It serves its purpose in its own special way: it is hot, it is fast, it is greasy, it is [relatively] inexpensive. The only thing this place has going for it is the Monopoly game. I friggin' love the Monopoly game. I have no idea why, because I hate playing Monopoly itself -- although again, my dad thinks it is the best game ever. But I love McDonald's Monopoly, and I already won a medium fries.

Proceed to get fat

A Prologue

I wrote this in a span of a few hours last night and this morning. I used a Univers font, which may or may not transfer -- and if it does, you may not be able to see it anyway, since it isn't a standard font. (Fonts are important to writers. Unless Sassy brings them up, then fonts are just what dorky design folks geek-out to, which is ideal for me making fun of her.)

Without further ado, except for this picture:

So, so right

Writing...Possibly...One Day

I've been entertaining a notion of writing some fiction and posting it on here. It isn't any of my planned fiction -- by which I should admit to not working on very frequently -- but more of a spontaneous, episodic, I write whatever I want kind of thing, but within the boundaries of what I've created already. That's a cumbersome way of saying I'm going to write short stories set within a world I made up for other stories but will now shamelessly exploit. 

Hey, It's Friday

It is the one day of the week where stating repeatedly what day of the week it is serves as a sufficient response to pretty much everything. You can tell people the day of the week in a revelationary and excited tone, like as a response to a greeting or even just a reminder to other people about how retarded you're going to act later tonight. I shall give you illuminous examples now:

• Walking in to work, as a general announcement: "WHOO IT'S FRIDAY!" (but don't smack your coworkers' ass, that's going too far)
• On everyone's Facebook: "yay it's Friday, can't wait to get my party on." (or some such "cool" synonymous term, as clearly I don't "get my party on" much)
• When asked how you are: "dude, it's Friday."
• When asked how you feel, as it looks like your body is stiff and sore: "f*ck you, it's Friday."
• Getting home from work: "where's my brewsky, it's Friday!" 
• When asked why the hell you seriously just said that: "well you do look like you stepped into a wind tunnel. But...it's Friday?"
• On being arrested after all those brewskys: "BUT IT'S FRIDAY!"

Elementary Schools

Kid writes words in green and captions in black and believes most people can't remember to turn off the lights when they leave a room because it is part of the Human Condition. Sassy writes in blue and believes in defending the people who forget to turn off the lights when they leave a room on the premise that they are returning in just a second (and after a show on the Food Network) to get and/or do something.

The Anatomy Of A Facebook Conversation

Ever wonder why it seems like we ALL have ADD?

You Don't Get "It"

To start: click play and listen to the tunes while reading. Then you will be in the appropriate "special place" for this post.

Showing Martha What's Up

Here's how you REALLY fold a sheet, Martha.

I Before E Except After C, And Sometimes...Why?

What do you do when you have too many small ideas to blog about, not many big ones, and even less time? I'll tell you: it's LIST MAKING TIME. Whoot. I love lists, and I have 20 minutes before my next call. Go time. 

Angry Irishman

It is catch-up with the Ishes* today! I have no anger in me, not even the type supplied by the title: two parts Irish Whiskey (thanks, Slick), two parts Irish Cream, and some ice cubes. The last time I even made said drink of anger was for guests, some time ago.

But I'm kind of starting in the middle here, as first I want to share some random lyrics to set the tone.