Maybe. Who knows. I think one side effect of blogging is that you really get to see what’s going on in your life and how you feel, even without putting fingers to keys. For example, I’ve had about 15 “I should blog this” moments this week, and I have nothing to show for any of them. I’ve been busy, and kinda tired. Anyway, I remember some of them. Warning: it’s late, and I’m a bit cranky. Profanities ahead, but hey, we’re all adults here.
- The Marah show from last Saturday. Great show, nice and small – a private party for a great young couple and their on-the-way baby. Set was tight and loose at the same time, if that makes any sense. Christine Smith and Adam Masterson opened…You should check out their MySpace pages – Adam’s should be up soon (eek, I can’t believe I linked to MySpace. Eek.).
- The RU/UConn game last Sunday. No, they haven’t gone pro. College football plays pretty much every night of the week now, so I don’t understand any argument about how a playoff system keeps kids out of the classrooms too much. Total bullshit. Anyway, the UConn game was a blast. Got the tailgate started at noon for an 8pm kick – all class, baby. Game was too close for comfort, but the optimist in me thinks the gameplan was all about getting up early (check), trying out some new stuff in advance of ‘Ville (check), and if it got close, going back to basics an putting the Huskies away (check). Photos up on Liz’s flickr.
- Both lanes go south, assholes. I commute via the Garden State Parkway every day, and on the way home, after crossing the Raritan River and passing through the newly-reconfigured tolls, the roadway splits. Keep left for Express, and keep right for Local lanes (all exits). All things being equal, if you’re going southbound then either side will do. What gets me are the complete fucking assholes who come through the tolls on the far right, then try like hell to get left into Express. What the fuck? Both sets of lanes go south. I kind of understand if you’re getting into the local lanes from the Express side…you may need to exit right away; but in that case, you should have gotten right before the damn tolls, moron. The people who NEED to get into Express, however, should all go to hell. These assholes brake, cut in, cut off, and generally fuck with the flow of traffic, all so that they can get onto the side of the highway with two thru lanes, not three…Express my ass. I’ve seen more fender-benders and rear-endings because some jackass from Staten Island or North Jersey doesn’t understand the concept of ALL LANES GO SOUTH. Ok, rant over.
- Speaking of MySpace, have I mentioned it’s the gutter? If you’re a musician or other type of performer (like an author or poet) who need to take advantage of MySpace’s very awesome support for original recorded media, then bully for you. However, for all others out there, here’s the deal: Ugly site design, blinking graphics, faux gothic or German fonts with fire coming off of the text, sparkly little fairies and gnomes, and text/background colors with little or no contrast: THESE THINGS ARE BAD! And don’t even get me started on sideways scrolling! Of course, that’s not always the page owner’s fault…apparently it’s ubercool to slap gigantic photos of yourself in a lame-ass Gangsta pose with the words “Thanks for the Add!” into other people’s comments, effectively rendering their page design completely and utterly fucking worthless. Now, if you’re on Myspace because you’re using it as a way to keep in touch with far-off friends, then fine. You get half a pass (just don’t pollute the Internets with ugly web pages). However, if you’re using Myspace to trade stupid shit with people you just saw 10 minutes ago, and will see again in the morning, well, I hope you got your homework done for Mr. Hooper’s math class.
- When your wife is a little sick, why should it preclude getting busy? Call me a guy, but unless I’ve got issues on the back-end, I’m probably good for at least some “heavy petting” (brings you back to High School health class, no? 😉 ).
Anyway, that’s all for now. I’m shooting for more than once a week, I swear.