2003-10-17 - 1:17 p.m.
Just had to share this because it's funny - my Rob Brezny horoscope for the week:
The next couple of weeks will be an excellent time to purge any nagging karma that has been haunting your love life. You'll be ready to move on to new romantic frontiers once you clear away the residue that has been subtly burdening you. To achieve the proper spirit of rowdy fierceness, I suggest you learn the following country music songs and belt them out now and then: "You Done Tore Out My Heart And Stomped That Sucker Flat," "Get Your Tongue out of My Mouth, I'm Kissing You Goodbye," "How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away?," "I Wouldn't Take You To A Dawg Fight, Cause I'm Afraid You'd Win," "I Liked You Better Before I Knew You So Well," and "I Flushed You From The Toilets Of My Heart."
2003-10-17 - 8:33 a.m.
All of a sudden my blog life's full of Texans! I could draw a little chart and show everybody how it happened, but that would 1) probably only be entertaining to me, and 2) get me in some serious trouble. Hehe. Even Helen is headed back to Dallas for a while. What's the appeal, folks? As someone who's never been in the Lonestar State longer than it takes to change planes, what am I missing?
Just in case anybody's wondering, in my world, the Rangers and Arlington Stadium *do* count as an attraction. Chicken-fried steaks the size of a dinner plate do not. I'd like to keep my stomach lining intact, thanks.
I'm not being a little shit, here, either. I'm genuinely curious. If I left California permanently - and in years past I came very close - there are some site-specific things I'd miss very much. The smell of wild fennel as I bike along the American River. Being equidistant from San Francisco and Lake Tahoe. Being able to tell the elevation by the presence of craggy oak trees or manzanita bushes. The proximity to Trader Joe's, best grocery chain on earth. (I cannot move to a state without TJ's. Sorry.)
In other news, I'm boycotting the World Series. Yankees - Marlins? What the hell is there to be excited about? Am I supposed to be rooting for Jeff Conine here? The single solitary redeeming factor of last night's Red Sox defeat was that Clemens was pulled in the fourth inning. I actually did my happy dance, laughed and pointed at him in disgrace. It wasn't until an hour later, when Pedro gave up the second dinger to that traitor Jason Giambi (by the way, what's up with Giambi's sweating?) that I realized I'd furthered the curse. Crap. No Red Sox fan is ever allowed to celebrate the tiniest victory until the day *after* a game, when it's been officially recorded as a win.
This year's playoffs have to rank right up there with my least favorite baseball memories. Also in this stack: Gibby's fist-pumping homer off Eckersley in the World Series (still makes me grind my teeth), Jeremy Giambi's refusal to slide home (way to go, trade fodder), and the damned Royals beating St. Louis in the 1985 Series. I loved those Cardinals. How could you not adore the goofy loping of Willie McGee in center, the comic grace of Ozzie Smith at short? How did the fugly Royals - with the tobacco spitting, ball scuffing Bret Saberhagen as their leader - take out my lyric Cards?
Anyway. It's another Steinbrenner Series. I say boycott.
The car is loaded down with DVDs and knitting. The Kermit jammie pants are packed. There's a bottle of wine in the trunk. I have a journal and my favorite pen, purchased in Germany.
It's time to pet-sit.
Comments: Speak your piece!
former / latter