Russell & Kimmy

It is going to be a cold night tonight. An artic blast is roaring down on Texas like a tornado on a trailer park. Hell we might even get some sleet which will bring an early arrival to the I-35 Ice Capades. I am debating turning on my heat, but since I am a cheap bastard I think instead I am going to snuggle up to my incredibly hot trophy wife.

Most of the time she lays around the apartment looking cute and has me hemorrhaging money like an airline; but occasionally she has explosive outbursts of productivity/creativity. Most of the time its to finish some design project that she has put off to the last minute; and its nauseating how well the projects turn out. Its mind-blowing how she can take a piece of canvas, paper, or oversized chipboard and bang out something that is as visually stunning as she is. I am dumfounded by her sketchbook and her renderings; or it might be the marker fumes killing off brain cells.

Which is bad because I need all the brain cells I have, especially at work. Corporate bought us some new computers and I am responsible for getting them out on the floor. Most of the time we plug them in, download the image we need and then bamm they’re ready to go. Well since they are brand spanking new and Vista capable I get to create a new image; I only have a tenuous grasp of what I am doing. To my credit, I have only messed up one computer. You would think that the primary administrator id wouldn’t let you disable/delete it before creating another administrator id; if you thought that (like I did) you would be WRONG. So image attempt number two is going well and I want you to cross your fingers and wish me luck, because I need it. One thing I need to remember is to delete/destroy is MSN messenger. Every other program is a snap to remove but not MSN messenger. Herpes is easier to get rid of than MSN messenger. The only way I have found to get the damn pesky little program to take a dirt nap is the following run command:

RunDll32 advpack.dll,LaunchINFSection %windir%\inf\msmsgs.inf,BLC.Remove

Stars don’t die when they get old; they degenerate and become a horrific undead monster that sucks the life out of everything before making the evening news by imploding like a black hole. As evidence, I present Cher. Look at her, standing there with pale skin and sunken eyes. It could be old age or too many beauty products; I believe its lack of blood. I believe she is an unholy abomination that has risen from the grave to suck out our pure natural fluids. Just to be on the safe side we should stake her and bury her on holy ground.

In anti-thesis to imploding celebrities I offer the strange sight I saw at Wendy’s today; stop by and purchase a medium frosty and a medium fry for $3.01. At first glance she looked like a punk girl with a beautiful brazen tattoo across her chest. Then at second glance she looked like a man hunter wielding a dark blue bra shining through a thin white shirt. Lastly I saw her belly, she was pregnant and beautiful; she was an expectant mother. Three contradictions swirled into a beautiful, glowing, expectant mother. Maybe I am getting soft in my older age, but there is a soft gooey spot in my heart for pregnant mothers; its either that or some wretched form of heart disease probably caused by a daily dose of a medium chocolate frosty and medium fry. I don’t know why but expectant mothers are sublime in their beauty.
And for the record, the vanilla frosties suck. Anyone, and this means you, who likes them is an Evil Pinko Liberal Commie.

Everyone wants to be special. People try hard to find that one thing that makes them unique and then they shriek it to the world; the worst are academics that encourage this. People are divided and categorized, pushed into ever shrinking groups. No longer are we Americans, instead we are some asinine classification that can not play nice with some other asinine classification. No wonder the holidays are so stressful, we have a Herculean task of reconciling the rest of the world to our uniqueness.

A recent New York Times article, just in time for the holidays, had an interview with two academics who wanted the world to know that they were unique because they are fat; and they are writing an anthology about it. I laughed and giggled my way through the article, but was ultimately disappointed in the two ivory tower elitists. I am glad that Sondra Solovay and Esther Rothblum are comfortable with their body weight and image. It also makes me exuberant that they document some of the difficulties that we vertically challenged people have with the rest of the world. But towards the end my joy wanes and I find these two degenerate from bright shining academic butterflies to the common ivory tower moth. They take a critique of society’s treatment of a growing subset and force it into an ill fitting shape that extrudes acceptance of the overweight and the obese. This acceptance is pure unadulterated shit. Being fat costs this country in terms of healthcare and lost labor. It’s okay to be heavy/chunky/fat, but it’s not okay to accept. So before you cram your identity into some ill-conceived group; ask yourself if that’s who you are or if you’re just being lazy.

Speaking of burgeoning waists, we finally made it out of Georgetown. We spent 5 days there feasting. Now fat and tired I am glad that Kimmy and I returned to our little apartment. I am pretty sure that my mother, who was glad to see us, was glad to see us go. It takes a lot of effort to be around family and friends for so long that it leaves you drained; or it might be the effort of digesting the five pounds of turkey that is sitting in my colon. I probably won’t say this often, but I was glad to go to work. Well fed and well rested, I am now ready to be productive. And my first act of productivity was solving the world’s energy crises; we will harness the energy of 3 year olds. In some weird way three year olds give off more energy than they consume; it’s like nuclear energy except more difficult to control. Three year olds can also solve our obesity epidemic. Give everyone a three year old and watch them burn calories trying to keep up.

I am stuffed!  My belly is swollen and bloated like a beached whale carcass; I feel like I could blow.   So happy Thanksgiving.  I would love to write more, but I think I am going to go eat some more.  And if Russell chunks rain down from the sky you know what happened; either a tragic miscapplication of dynamite was involved OR I at one to many cookies.

Horrible things happen; water turning to blood, frogs, gnats, flies, diseased livestock, boils, thunder and hail, locust, darkness and Tom Curise marrying Katie Holms. Most of the time these horrible things are like really bad gas; give it time and they eventually pass. Sometimes they cause you to throw up a litltle in the back of your mouth, and make you want to gouge out your eyes. Like I said, horrible things happen.

And as much as I want to destroy television for bringing us such abominations, like the TomKat wedding, there are some surprisingly good shows out this season. One show I have started watch late in the season is Heros. I like the crazy time traveling chinese kid the most. I have only seen a few episodes of it, so I will defer further judgement on it. But I am actually looking forward to next Monday when the next episode airs.