June 12th thru the 27th, 2006

Monk Season 2
I enjoyed the first season of Monk. But something's wrong in this second season. I don't know if it's the writing, or the production. But the direction absolutely sucks. The director is either different or on some kind of medication. I mean, even Aaron Sorkin, when he started having all those troubles, was still able to make West Wing better than anything else on TV at the time. So I will ont accept any excuses if it's the same director. And if it's a different one, fire him. I don't care if it's all better now on the current, 5th season. Retro fire his ass. Or hers. Could be a she. Seriously, if I had seen this season first, I wouldn't have made it past the first episode. Saving grace-- I still likes me some Sharona,

Kickball
We won! Finally! Last game of the season and we finally won. I had four at-kicks, with one fly-out, one strike-out on fouls, and two runs, with a single and a double. In one inning we kicked our entire roatation! (I led off that inning). The new season starts in 2 weeks. Can't wait!

WoW
Been playin. I know you don't care, but still hanging in there. Also played some CoH for the first time in an eon, but just a short while. The reactivated old accounts this weekend-- I think they're losing marketshare to WoW. I jumped around for a bit, got a badge I had not been able to get for the longest time, which was nice. But otherwise, it's been just me, Dakota, Grimkin, Calsaulen, Agnossia, Sardonica, Xoxa, and Singood.

Weight Watchers
Might as well admit it-- I joined, over a week ago. I am a lard butt. Actually, a lard-gut. 215. Yes, you heard me, my initial weigh-in was 215. But I have been very good with counting points. I am rather enjoying it, but then I am record-keeping geek. This weekend was tough as I had friends in from out of town, and so did the GF, and there where barbecuse and parties to go to, with all kinds of food. But here's the thing. Rather than eschew a tasty vittle, I just stopped myself before I got sickly full. Cause that's my problem-- I eat even when I'm not hungry, when I am full, even if the food doesn't taste good. It's like my caveman brain says: you better eat what's there now cause it might be gone later! I MUST break that habit.

You'll hear more about it as this progresses, ad nauseum I'm sure.

So why do we do it?

Megalomania. Narcissism. Other spelling-bee pathologies. Some kinda need to just write it all down, and since pen and paper are so... 1978, might as well blog. Knowing that it's public makes one try to assemble the thoughts into something nearly interesting. Sometimes it works. Not always though.

But who cares? Oh, some will judge. Let 'em. They'll pickle themselves in the brine of their own bitter attitudes. And pickling makes you crunchy! And I like crunchy people!

Anyway. I'm playing WoW now and occasionally there's downtime. That makes it worse, don't it? That the only reason I'm writing this boring crap is because I've got nothing else to do for a few minutes?

Blog: today is Wednesday. I don't eat meat one Wednesdays.

If I knew how to link straight to MySpace people, I do it, for they have space on MySpace. Check 'em out.

Pussy
Yes I said it! Pussy. Last night at Kell's, in the men's, there above the commode, graffitt that read, simply, "Dope And Pussy." Nevermind the dope. let's talk about Pussy. Well, lot's not talk about pussy as such. I like pussy, don't get me wrong, and what guy doesn't saving those who don't, of course. I want to talk about the word itself.

I could not bring myself to say the word pussy for years, and when someone else said the word pussy, I would get embarrassed. It's sad but true. The upside was, whenever I girl said the word, I found it quite arousing.

But for the last year or so, I am becoming more and more comfortable with the word pussy. Sure, the more crude usages of the word make me cringe, like when assholes say "get me some pussy," or the like. I also don't care for the word when used as insult-- when somebody calls someone a fag or a pussy, I think it says much more about the somebody. But when talking about pussies themselves, warm little pussies, with hair or without, lovely little yummy pussies-- well, I can say the word with no problem

And the upside of all of this-- I still get turned on when a girl uses the word pussy.

Blogs: bringing TMI in the living rooms, bedrooms, and offices of all American.

Weight Watchers
Weigh-in was Friday... and I lost 3 lbs. Whoohoo! Maybe. I forgot what I was wearing the first time I weighed-in. What if I had been wearing really heavy clothes? Oh well. I still feel good, because I had points to spare at the end of the week, even though I went to Patti'es Eggnest on Thursday and had a big ol' cheeseburger, fries, and a coke. (It was delicious).

Of course, the beginning lost is always rapid, and I will "plateau" as they say. This weekend I had a few beers already, and next weekend I'll be eating plenty o' bad food-- but that's what the rest of the week is for, recovery and exercise. But I tell you what, it's tough to motivate myself to exercise when I stand up at my desk all day.

At any rate, so far so good. And AT this rate, I'll hit my goal in... (does mental math) 12 weeks. Hey, whaddaya know. That's how long any good, healthy, easy weight-loss plan should take.

Now a year has gone by and I don't think they'd make it. Times change too darn fast. Of course, I have no idea what's big or in right now. Gimme some of the Evanescence, please, some of that Rasputina, some of that A perfect Circle. Betcha each of those bands hates being associated with the other! Got news for you, children: in a hundred years, they won't differentiate between you and N' Synch. So live it while you can.

Blah blah blah I am supposed to be working now. Got some irons to take out of the fire, finally. Should be a slow week. That means, what, lotsa WoW I guess. And Blogging! Never fear! You're semiregular dose of boredom will be in full force!

I got like 7 friend requests today, all from bikini types. I think it might have been because of my blog entry on the P word. MySpace-- where a robust data-mining algorithm finally found its home.

Peace out, and kisses, you cranky little prisses.

Okay, let's travelog. Got up butt-ass early on Friday to make the early flight. Got in there in plenty of time, got in line, and then of course, one of the nice attendents says "Any losers here for the 5:54 flight, need to cut ahead in line and make everyone else here mad?" Yo. Got my ticket, went to the security line, took almost all of my clothes, and then my bag got plucked out of the x-ray machine and was hand-searched. I love personal attention.

On the plane, I had a stinkin middle seat, dag nabbit, but them's the breaks, In flight movie? Failure to Launch... pass.Sso I sat there and watched a documentary on my own DVD player, Bush's Brain, all about Al Roker. Is that his name? Wait, no Karl Rove. Anyway, landed in Dallas, headed over to the connecting flight, wolfed down a sub, got on the plane, window seat. "Ladies and gentleman, this is your captain, speaking to you in a voice that gets it's smooth, dusky quality for the Crown Royale I chug before every flight. Now that we've taxied out to the runway and there' no chance for you to escape, I'm going to shut down the engines for 45 minutes as they're not ready for us to take-off yet. God I hope I don't sober up before we finally leave. So sit back, relax, and enjoy "Failure to Launch." Yes, again. So I watched an episode of "Deadwood." Eventually we took off and landed.

Hartford CT, outside to get on the rental car shuttle. Thrifty: "Sir, your name pleasse? .... Hmmm, that's not on the list.... oh, you say your plane landed late... fine, we'll get you there and have you in a car soon... what's that? You're a dumbass who forgot and need to get on the Dollar Rent-A-Car shuttle? No problem, have a great day." Got on the right shuttle, made it to the right place.

"Hi welcome to Dollar just so you know I don't talk with punctutation here's your reservation why don't you go ahead and pay more for this bigger car and insurance you don't really need and gas is cheaper here than at the gas stations so don't fill the tank when you come back have a nice day the Ramada is through the McDonald's parking lot across the street make a left 1.2 miles on your right did I say have a nice day then okay bye."

Drove up the Ramada, but there's no place to park-- there? No, that's a restaurant, go back by the rooms, you'll be com,ing out of one soon anyway. Went to check-in, forgot my wallet in the car, ran back for it, returned, didn't ask for but got a smoking room. "Your room is 173, which is the absolute furthest room from check-in, along a corridor lined with the same three prints over and over again so you never can be sure how far you've walked, oh, and we put you next to a room full of screaming giggling girls just in case you where thinking about sleeping." Went to my room, unpacked, headed outside to drive to the rehearsel dinner-- and indeed, I had parked in exactly the right space so I was as far away from reception as possible and as far away from my room as well. I am so much a genius my DNA should be patented.

Got on the highway, another highway, another one... checked my directions, I wanted exit 18, I was at exit 42, cool, the directions said it was thirty some-odd miles. at exit 47 or so, I passed Springfield, where I was born. Alas, no magical sort of connection felt. But I DID notice that the numbers where going up, not down-- was I going the wrng way on this darned highway? Then it dawned on me-- the numbers would start over when I his Massachusetts. Remember that DNA patent I was telling you about.

Rolled into Northhampton "The Only Place Where Parking Is a Problem for Hundreds of Miles Around!" But I managed to find one, got a nice piece of exercise in walking to the restaurant-- and it was reunion time. See above. The details are too overwhelming. But like I said, it was well worth all the trouble to see everyone.

Went back to the hotel and slept the sleep of the sleeping. The next day I went back early, to see if I could help out. I helped the groom do some groom stuff, helped the caterers to some caterer stuff, had a turkey bacon guacamole Quiznos, and started reading Anne Coulter's latest book. What a clown. (more on that later, oh yes, I promise) Yes, I know MySpace algorithms are now going see to it that every conservative asshole in the system now starts sending me messages. Bring 'em on, ya buncha fascists. Took the bride's sister back to the wedding sight, hung out for a bit, then when the pre-wedding hor's douevres (not going to spell check that) came on I began to mingle.

Same as I said before, met some great people, had some wonderful conversations. If any of you are reading this now by some odd chance, I hope you don't feel I am selling you short. You were/are all wonderful people, and I rather dedicate specific space to those experiences, and not waste it on this long travelling diatribe. I will say, however, that the bartender named my drink of choice a "Marvin," as there was not a name for it: gin and tonic with a splash of cranberry for color. I had many.

The ceremony began. It was lovely. The bride's old friend from her time in Lawrence did the service, and it was very touching. The groom cried, the big lug, and it was really very special. Then they traipsed off for photos and the rest of us traipsed off for more Marvin's and hor's douvres. Then we had dinner, there was dancing. there where gigantic cupcakes. It was a night to remember, duh, but even if they hadn;t got hitched, it woulda been. I was shanghai'd to crash at the bridesmaids' hotel, chastly and in my own bed, but just because we all wanted to hang out some more.

Next day I was up, back to my hotel for a shower and check-out, and back to Northhampton for the after-brunch and the goodbyes. Did some shopping with the ladies, bought some chocolates for my GF (I've sampled them since and they truly are the best chocolates I've ever gotten her). Then the airport again, dropped some people off, dropped off the car, and then the shuttle to the airport.

By now you're exhausted reading this and God knows I am writing it, but the fatigue was only starting to begin. Flight delayed due to weather. No way I was going to make my connection in Dallas. Took a chance and flew anyway, (watched "Deadwood" and "Law and Order" on the DVD player, ignoring 8 Below, our inflight movie), and whaddaya know, the Dallas flight was delayed too! And they where holding for other people who had been delayed!

Literally ran with two other people who had been on my flight, also going t Seattle. Literally watched, catching her eye, as one of the gate agents closed the door as we approached. And that was it. I was stuck in Dallas for the night. It was 10:30.

I ranted a bit and raved, but tried not to be too abusive. They gave me a voucher for "distress rates" at a local hotel, and booked me on a flight for the next day, and called the shuttle to come get me. I went down to baggage claim to wait for the shuttle. After an hour of watching other people being picked up for toher hotels, I called my hotel. "Oh, we stopped running the shuttle at 11 and I'm the only one here." Lovely. Tried calling a cab, but all the courtesy phones where either broken or giving me busy signals. Used up the last few droips of juice in my cell phone to call the GF.

This is where I praise the GF. She really did save me. I was prepared to just sit outside and feel sorry for myself for 7 hours until my flight left the next day. But she called the hotel, and got me a real cab, and I was balre to get to my hotel. The cab was 22 bucks for a 4 minute ride. The hotel was 60 bucks. I slept in it for 5 hours. I am never flying American Airlines again.

Next day I was sent to the wrong gate, almost missed my flight, but made it (3rd from last on the plane), got home, got picked up, back to my house for work, a few minutes of WoW, GFs for dinner and The Family Guy, and fell asleep at 8.

So there you go, I know, I rather rushed through it all, and I sure there's typos galore, but that's everything. I'll write more about specific things in the days ahead, either here or at www.bukkhead.com.

The End of the MySpace Blog?
Hey everyone. So I was out of town for the weekend and now I am back and tell you about it. But first, maybe I won't. Maybe not yet. You see I'm thinking about buying some webspace and bringing my website back. Don't bother clicking in this link today: www.bukkhead.com, but it might be up soon, and if I start blogging there again, I might not blog here anymore.

Who cares? No one reads this anyway, you megalomaniac.

Yeah, well, whadaya gonna do. For the one person who might stumble across this, now you know. But until I do do that, on with the this.