Are You There, Peter Coyote? It's Me, Ooma . . . And I've Got The Facial Hair To Prove It

September 23, 2014


And then you're like, "How many hours long is this thing?"


What he said; also, I don't like living in a world where commercials make flirty banter between man and machine look "cute."


It was archival images of TR during his days in the Badlands, but it could have been 20-somethings in Bushwick. Or ISIS along the Euphrates.


These dagnamit Buck Naked Underwear ads are starting to get into Slanket territory; you can't — just can't — use "stink" and "sweat" in the same sentence when talking about anything remotely related to a man's crotch.

September 24, 2014


Midnight is somehow both late enough and early enough to make a mess of things.


Big Black's "Steelworker" came on the shuffle while I was doing some wild goose chase housework (sometimes there's a good reason for a drop ceiling, and that's when there is none) and it stuck in my head. Mr. Baby, Too is more than 20 pounds and is nowhere near crawling, so when he's in the Ergo, it gives new meaning to "great big thing crawling all over me," a line I never really understood to begin with. Also, while doing dishes it occurred to me that "I kill what I eat" is sort of backwards, right? You eat what you kill, like Ted Nugent, not the opposite — that is, unless you're into certain Asian dishes . . .


The night the Pirates clinched; I initially misheard, probably because I'm not really following the Pirates.

September 25, 2014


I'm sorry, I really am, but this is one of my biggest, uh, pet peeves. I will never, ever understand why dog owners feel like it's OK to let their animals urinate on people's property. A while back it occurred to me how gross it must be for sanitation workers; indeed, apparently it is. It took me down a rabbit hole of memories about dog waste: I remember friends' backyards where dogs used doggie doors to go outside to relieve themselves. A weekly chore was cleaning up the dog shit; which is to say, that for 6 3/4 days a week the backyard was full of dog shit. I sometimes get a little squeamish sitting on any grassy area. All of which is to say, What the fuck, man?


Giving Mama unsolicited advice. Amazing how hard it can be to jog your memory and how satisfying it is when you bust through years of Google plaque to figure out whatever it was you couldn't remember in the first place.

September 26, 2014


If they hadn't excised Sparky, the bowling ball helmets may have been kind of interesting. If they hadn't been so shitty against UCLA, they might have been "bold," or whatever. But both contingencies failed to materialize.


Jen's observation. It's true — and I've absolutely used, or overused, "award-winning" in things. Try to remember, then be willing to forget.


They would have scored [tallying . . .]

  • Sack: 1 (1 point)
  • Interception: 2 (4 points)
  • Fumble Recovery: 2 (4 points)
  • Touchdown: 1 (6 points)
  • Kickoff and Punt Return Touchdowns: 1 (6 points)
  • Points Allowed 21-27 points: 0

21 points. Christ.


I watched part of the beginning of the game but missed the game-winner.


I feel like I've seen a lot of articles about this show recently, not all of which nymag.com Twitter spam. I watched this show. I liked this show. I wanted Luke and Lorelai to find love. I wanted Rory to succeed. And yet I think it's OK to leave it behind, even if it is available on Netflix. Perhaps it's something rotten I notice in myself, but the full-bore banter Nick-and-Noraism of the scripts is kind of fatiguing after a while.


Well, so there's that.


And then that happened . . .


Actual content; what a concept.

September 27, 2014


God, it was in this episode of Inside the Eagles, which I think they edited out! Anyway, it's a knock-knock joke, where the knock-knock goes, "Knock Knock? Who's there? Smell mop. Smell mop . . ." you get the idea . . .

Posted: September 29th, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: Too Much Information | Tags: , , , , , , ,
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