Money For Nothing, And the Chicks for Free

Ok, this year sucks. First, Paul Newman dies, and that sucks because it's like a generation of hotness completely and totally EXPIRES. And what do we have to replace this hotness? Fucking dumbshits like Orlando Bloom and whatnot? No. THEN, I gain 5 pounds, which is not ok...and I don't agree with how much starch in ingest. And then I go and lose my FUCKING cell phone this morning. What an asshole. The cell phone, not me. I've had it for a number of months, maybe years, either way, I'm naked.

I fought against the cell phone thing. But I got stranded by my old car in sketchy parts of New Orleans once too many time and my parents were all "you're getting one". So that was that. It's been my adopted baby ever since. First Nokia, then Sony and then LG...and now...well...skype. It's horrible. Everyone says I sound like a robot.

Do you detect some vodka in this post? Yeah, I do too.

Anyway, this week the prego Waif and Ty took away their pretty 42" television that we've be TV-sitting for them since May. Originally I was supposed to keep it for two months or so but the remodelling of their GIANT new house took 6 months. So we became very attached to their TV and corresponding entertainment unit.

When they took it away this is what we were left with.

No offense to Andrew and Tracy who provided us with the lovely (FREE) television that you see above but it just wasn't the same. The Xbox wouldn't play any movies and the TV was perched very precariously on the 1940s radio console. And the sound didn't actually work. It was a bad situation. No one was happy.

So Brendan made the very difficult decision to not go to Australia for the the writer's workshop he was accepted to. Though prestigious, the entire program would have cost him a mint and he eventually decided to put going off for a while until he could afford it (you know...the economy and shit), but immediately after making this decision, he caught Flat Screen Fever. This lasted about a week. Then Monday came and the above turned into this:

What you see there is a BIG FUCKING TV. That bitch is 47 inches. No one needs a TV that large. And yet, we have one. I feel as though I should rent Lawrence of Arabia just to do it justice. I've never actually seen Lawrence of Arabia? Did I mention I was a film student back in the day? I know...funny.

What was I talking about?

Oh yes. We have a giant TV. Who says there's a recession on?

How Do You Say 'Tequila' in Spanish?

Did I ever mention that I'm going to Mexico? Well I am. And no, this is not one of my normal, non-relaxing backpacking adventurous vacations. This is going to be a rolling luggage, only bringing flip flops and a floppy hat, swimming pools with floating bars kind of vacation. That's right, I'm going to a RESORT! I'm so excited I could pee. But not in the pool, I'm just too old for that anymore.

I've never been anywhere tropical. Sub-tropical, Mediterranean and just plain hot-ass desert I've done...but never tropical. I might eat a coconut. Shit, I might try to shimmy up a tree and pick one of the damn things myself. Though to be perfectly honest, I don't know that I'd recognize one in its natural element. I disgust myself with my citiness.

Anyway, this goes down in early January so I need to start doing some sort physical-type thing to prepare my body for a bathing suit post-holiday season baked goods binging (which has already begun). I was thinking maybe yoga. It's really the only "sport" I can think of that involves a lot of sitting and laying down. I like that. I took some yoga classes way the hell back in college, but was really put off by the chanting. I don't mind the audible breathing or whatever, but I'm not going to fucking chant "ohm". It's not relaxing. It's stupid.

Yes, I realize this kind of negative point of view will never get my chakras aligned. I'm prepared to deal with that disappointment.

Blame It On The Rain

Along with age comes single hairs growing out of strange places. At 28 I have three strange hairs. I greatly fear my thirties.

Maybe I'm the only one who feels this way, and I'm certain I'm not, but you have to say such things so as not to sound as though you assume you are the leader of all thought - but since I live in a rainy climate I see absolutely NO FUCKING REASON why there exists any Fall/Winter jacket in the marketplace sold without a hood. What's more, if a jacket identifies itself even remotely as something to be worn in foul weather via the label, brand and/or style, the non-inclusion of a hood should result in a return to the manufacturer where they ought to be required by federal law to snap one the fuck on!

And don't even get me started on the weird and pointless world of trench coats. THE most useless invention since the lettuce knife. Supposedly they are made for rain, and yet get so easily soaked through in a heavy downpour. AND NO HOOD. So you're forced to wear a hat or have an umbrella. Well, I lose umbrellas and I don't look good in hats, so that's me being persecuted by the coat industry right there. LAWSUIT.

Going Once, Going Twice, Going Chicken Soup With Rice

So we have a new president. La la la la la. Someone will probably try to point out the whole "doesn't take office til Jan '09" business, but I'm not having it. We have a new president.

This puts me in a pickle, however. I doubt anyone ever thinks about the name of this blog when they think of this blog...though I imagine they think of this blog often. As well they should. It's a delightful blog. I don't remember how Condi's Hair came about. I mean, I remember when people were like "you should start a blog" and then the Waif was all "use this site and make it look like this [type][type][type]". Those were sound effects by the way. But I don't remember why I called it Condi's Hair. I have an inkling that the very first post I ever posted was also a verbal rant from some point in my work day and was instructed to document it for posterity. Not sure why...it's a silly rant. You can read it here. I was so young. Anyway, the name stuck. And then one of my office mates who is a genius with a mini Etch-A-Sketch created the masterpiece located in the upper left corner and a star is born. That's the term, isn't it.

It was never supposed to last this long. And it was never supposed to be traceable...though I imagine if any of you were to pop through Portland, it'd be remarkably easy to look me up. I haven't been exactly stubtle about my anonymity. Oh well.

Now here I am, a number of years later (I can't be bothered to look) and I'm sitting in a poorly lit bar waiting for amy g., sipping something called a Cherry Blossom (it's got sake in it!) and alternating between blogging this piece of literary magic and watching my work inbox to see if a technical issue is fixed so I can send a shit-ton of emails. How the world has changed.

Cherry Blossoms are divine.

As usual, I'm taking far too long to get to my point. Well, I have to kill time because tech support is being slow and tech supporty and I can't just and watch nerd talk go back and forth, so shut up. My point is, after January and not too far beyond that the name "Condi" will cease to to have any sort of relevance. Though my blog may be doomed to the same fate, I'd like to try and prevent it if at all possible. It would be horrible if I lost my one and only hobby. Ok, my one and only hobby besides hating old people.

This is where you come in. I thought about doing another poll, but have decided that polls are beneath me. So is high fructose corn syrup and name brand cotton swabs, but I digress. Do I change the name of Condi's Hair when Condi is no longer in office? And more importantly, do I move to WordPress where apparently you can do magical things like make links on your own without having to beg your sister to do it for you because you know fuck all about HTML and just looking at that code makes you want to both scream AND circle things like a Word Find. That sentence could use some commas.

Anyway, I really can't decide what to do. If I go with a re-naming plan of action, I don't know, that might be more work than I can bear. But then, I don't want to be answering dumbass questions like "Who's Condi?" if I still have this thing in 2 years. Violence is wrong, and I might forget that.

So I put it to you, friends, who have helped me so much in the past. I'd go into a list detailing just how useful I feel all of you are to me, but I want to post this instead:
If I sleep with him...is that cheating?

Um, There's A Dodgeball In Your Stomach

I was sick as a dog and Brendan was exhausted...but we managed to rock our costumes for a couple of hours. I didn't mean to match. That was kind of an accident. But console yourself with the fact that my Converse were green.
Sunny D is nasty.

And sweatbands squeeze your brain.

Play By Play

People are always "blogging live" at events like the National Conventions or the Oscars. I've decided I'm going to "blog live" from my desk...later my couch...and then not at all because I'm going to a show (Electric Six, baby).

I'm excited.

11/4 - 4:44 pm/PT
McCain's won Kentucky (you see, of course, why Brendan left). Obama's taken Vermont. He'll be getting free maple syrup for the rest of his life, I can see it now. All this on the heels of McCain's brush with death and Obama's conspiracy to release the news about his Grandmother to secure sympathy votes.

11/4 - 4:58 pm/PT
South Carolina to McCain. Whatever.

11/4 - 5:47 pm/PT
McCain wins the cotton fields. Obama gets the cotton mills. Agriculture vs. Industrialization...it's like U.S. History all over again. And Geography. And...I suddenly have a hankering for fried foods and clam chowder.

11/4 - 5:50 pm/PT
I live-blogged the above while STANDING. Did you ever HEAR of anyone more hardcore? No.

11/4 - 6:30 pm/PT
There was supposed to be a Stewart/Colbert election special on Comedy Central. It's not on. I'm being forced to watch PBS. Their map graphic is inferior.

11/4 - 6:51 pm/PT
Obama just got Ohio. Do you hear that? It's not even 7:00 PM and Ohio is DECIDED. We have arrived, friends! Also, I just saw a Timberland commercial with the words "everyone dreams of standing on a podium" running across the image. Dumbasses. You don't stand on podiums. You stand at them.

11/4 - 7:01 pm/PT
Ok, the Stewart/Colbert special finally started. I feel better.

11/4 - 7:29 pm/PT
I ate dinner.

11/4 - 8:06 pm/PT
OBAMA WOOOOONNNNNNNNN! And now for celebratory cocktails and make-out sessions.

11/4 - 8:21 pm/PT
McCain's concession speech is probably the most eloquent one he's given yet. Kudos to the person who wrote it, as it was most assuredly not him. Cindy looks like she's been vomited on. They really should've shared some of Palin's wardrobe budget with her. I know that's mean, but it's her own fault she dresses like a tranny with a Jackie O complex.

11/4 - 9:31 pm/PT
Beautiful speech by PRESIDENT ELECT Barack Obama. And Michelle...remarkably UNtranny. That woman has style. This from the girl on her couch wearing a used Johnny Cash t-shirt covered in paint splatters and thrift store jeans. Whatevs.

And with that...I'm going out. You've been a beautiful audience.

11/5 - 1:11 am/PT
The show was rad. I shook my money maker. If you've never heard of the band Electric Six, I suggest you do some youtube-ing. Come on, the election's over, it's not like you've got anything better to do. Ok, maybe I'm a little drunk. I thought shaking my money maker would help that. Apparently not.

I also re-read the play by play and it was less than enthralling. Oh well. I'll make you like me for other reasons.