Random Bits

1 drink
Anytime she refers to Alaska.
Anytime she says the word “Maverick”.
Anytime she talks about energy policy.
“Drill Baby, Drill”… Drink baby, drink.

2 drinks
Anytime she says the word “Mavericks” when referring to herself and John McCain.

3 drinks
Anytime she responds to a question but completely sidesteps answering it.

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Anytime she suggests she has foreign policy experience simply due to Alaska’s geographic proximity to Russia and Canada.
Finish your drink. Get another. Finish it too. Repeat until blotto and maybe she’ll start making sense.

As a colleague put it… “wow”:

Palin on Foreign Policy

I have some Canadian pennies in my pocket… and hey! my neighbors are expat Brits… and they sometimes walk down the street, and in order to do that, where do they walk? Right past my house – so I must have foreign policy experience!!

Consider me a write-in!

So apparently my son announced today that Manny, his wooly mammoth toy from Ice Age, loves doughnuts.

When the wife asked slightly amused, “your mammoth loves doughnuts?” he replied, “yes, he loves all nuts.”

Gotta love the unintentional humor of children!

Well I did it. I managed to survive 6/6/6. No hell-spawned demons issued forth from some sulfur-belching fissure in the earth. No fire and brimstone rained down from the sky. Interesting concept that. If hell is “down” or beneath us, how exactly does the fire and brimstone get above us to rain down? Perhaps from some cataclysmic volcanic eruption that would put Mount Tambora to shame? Ahhh, but I digress… Nothing hellish or hell-related occurred today unless you count that it’s trash night. Oh yeah, and our instant hot water dispenser went kaput. But technically Lori told me about it a day or two ago, so I guess that doesn’t count either.

On a side note, I think Hollywood really missed the boat on this one. I mean c’mon, this is a once-in-a-lifetime *no, scratch that* a once-in-a-millenium opportunity. This is a PR person’s wet dream. The perfect date for the scariest, most wicked, scare the *@#$*&^ out of you horror movie to open and what do they give us? A remake. A rehash of an old movie – The Omen. Ooooh boy, talk about blowing it. Un-frickin’-believable. I guess they can always try again June 6, 3006.

So a friend and I were talking recently and both said about the same thing at about the same time. I say “about” because it’s hard to tell in IM if it was exactly at the same time, although I’m pretty sure our IMs crossed in the ether.

“JINX“, she gleefully announced. Damnit. I’ve been jinxed. Nothing to be done about it now, I’m screwed. I think of how I can break it to my boss and just go home early to crawl into bed… attempt to ride this jinx out. I’m pretty sure they expire at midnight. I could be wrong. I’ll let you know.

Now when I was a kid, the phrase was “Owe me a Coke, I’ve got a jinx on you”. Yeah, I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean either. All I know is, you were supposed to say it faster than the other person or they won. “Won what?”, you ask? A Coke? No… their jinx won over your jinx. Powerful juju that Coke jinx.

What does the Coke have to do with it? Heck if I know, but it does go to show you how prevalent brand names are ingrained in our societal (sub)conscious . Like saying you need a Kleenex® instead of needing a tissue… or that you Rollerbladed® over the weekend, when really what you probably did was strap into a pair of a cheap, knock-off brand and went in-line skating.

Every day to and from work I pass Victoria’s Secret. Nothing really to see but the display windows and they hardly ever put anything risque in the windows. Actually, on a whole, on a risque scale of 1 to 10, V.S. is really only about a 3. Except for today…

Today I passed by as 2 employees were swapping outfits (not theirs, the ones on the mannequins – if it had been the employees I’d have given V.S. a 7). The mannequins were ummmm… nekkid. Now it’s just a mannequin, I know, but still, I felt like such a voyeur seeing these anatomically correct exhibitionists.

I felt even worse that they had to clean the smudge prints off the windows though.

edit: [6:45pm] Fortunately by my return trip home they’d been returned to their usual, scantily-clad selves.

… but I could swear one of them winked at me.

One and a half weeks. Less than 10 days. That’s how long pre-school has been in session and already I have a mommy calling me up on the phone.

Josh has got a girlfriend! Josh has got a girlfriend!

Ok, now that I have that adolescent outbust out of my system, it appears my young son has made quite the impression on a certain young lady, who shall remain nameless. Said young lady’s birthday party is planned for Sunday, and said young lady’s mommy was quite apologetic for such late notice, however it turns out the young miss took to throwing a fit when she found out MY son wasn’t invited to her party.

MY son? Are we sure we’re talking about the right Josh? You know there are two Joshua’s in that class, right? I mean, yeah he’s sociable beyond belief (we get told daily by his teachers how outgoing he is, how he says “hello!” and “what’s your name?” to ALL the kids he sees) but still! To elicit a temper tantrum by being overlooked as a birthday guest? Wow. I couldn’t be prouder.

You want a piece of advice though son? Live it up now. Sure sure… they giggle when you throw play doh at your best friend or shoot milk out your nose. Or have an accident in your pants… *sigh* And they squeal in one part terror /one part glee when you tug their pony tails or chase them with bugs during recess. But those days are short-lived my son. The same girls who giggle at your inane childhood antics will grow up to be the cheerleader homecoming queens of tomorrow and they won’t give you the time of day, no matter how much milk you squirt out of your nose.

I mean, it was just that one time and all, but still…