Seriously, This Shit Is Serious.

This just slayed me. And the sad thing is, it's not so very far off from the actual interview. I have youtube proof.




See? Proof:



Enjoy. I'll post a real one latas.

It is ON!

You know you like a boy when you eat for four straight hours after dropping him off at the airport. Sad.

So, it's 4:30 PM right now. The Presidential Debates start in an hour and a half. But check out this Wall Street Journal screenshot:

I guess when you pay for the ads, they throw a fixed outcome in there for free! What a bargain!

But seriously. I'm excited. I'm really really excited. Not as excited as I will be for the Vice-Presidential debates, but still...excited. I'm probably going to continue eating, but will meter with beverages. The beverages are a must since amy g. and I will most likely be yelling at the TV within the first ten minutes.

This is my football season, people.

Tis The Season

My Coworker sent me a screenshot from a Hotmail account yesterday. He wanted me to note the banner at the top of the page. And then he sat back and waited.

This was it:
Priceless.

There's so much to address in this one little banner I don't know where to begin. Coworker knew where to begin. He followed the initial screenshot with a series of concerns. I've included them below for my own amusement:

Coworker's Concerns:
(4:43:08 PM) Coworker: Here are some question I have. How long does girlfriend season last?
(4:43:24 PM) Coworker: Can you use calls, decoys and/or scents?
(4:43:46 PM) Coworker: How much is a license, what's the limit?
(4:43:55 PM) Coworker: Do bow hunters get to go first?
(4:44:11 PM) Coworker: What about age limits and catch and release?
(4:45:20 PM) Coworker: Can they provide a list of taxidermists?

And here is where I address his concerns:
1. Until Spring...that's twitterpating season...time to change partners.
2. Don't use scents. Most man cologne is revolting. Cat calls are discouraged as well. As for decoys, I suggest holding a life-size cardboard cut out of Benny & Joon era Johnny Depp in front of your person.
3. You don't so much need a license as you do a budget for drinks and dinners.
4. Do they get to go first in regular hunting? Weird. Why?
5. There are age restrictions. Anything younger than 25 should be let go until they've had sufficient time in the pond.
6. Depends on how much you like being compared to Ed Gein.

There. That's settled.

Two other things. One - The Waif and I have finally recorded a CondiCast. I haven't finished editing it because I am lazy. It's total shit as the first two were (almost two years ago), but you guys can be the judge whenever I get around to posting it. I just gave you all a reason to live. You're welcome.

Two - Nick Cave is still hot at 51 and this is WITH his current skeez 'stache. That's right, I said it. I saw him Monday night for the first time and the dude played for over 2 hours. I'm still recovering. That said, I'm going to leave you with one of my favorite songs of his. The video is early 90s lame, but keep the tab open while you peruse your other blog loves and let his voice just melt over you with its hotness. You see what I did right there? That's right.



Kara OUT

I Find The Following To Be Offensive:

1. That my sister thinks she has the right to free speech. No...once you weigh under 110 lbs, you lose your right to speak.

2. People who list "Blackberry" numbers instead of just "cell" numbers. I don't give a fuck what kind of phone I'm calling...I just need to know that you have a mobile number. Not that it links to a douchey phone.

3. Formal shorts. Particularly this monstrosity I stumbled upon today:They're velvet and on sale for $135. Gay pirate mid-drift sold separately.

4. Thursday night happy hours. They make Friday so very difficult.

5. Old people (not news)

6. Sarah Palin

7. That you guys really thought I was going to let you decide on the Missus' nickname. This is America. There's only one decider. His new nickname is Brendan. Yeah. I've finally used a name. First person who gives me shit about "settling down" gets a knee in the balls.

8. Saltwater taffy once it hardens.

9. That it's already starting to get cold.

10. That my high school reunion was planned over Facebook and MySpace. Yes...I'll be going. I don't want to deal with the guilt.

Drink for the Cure III is on Sunday! I know I never got around to posting pictures from II last year...but I'll throw in a link to Drink for the Cure I just for ol' time's sake. I can't believe how much time has passed. It was sooooo many boy toys ago. Yes, that is an acceptable measurement of time for me. Shut it.

OUT!

Hold it right there, Toots.

[Yes, TheWaif is now speaking. And yes, I finally have full access to this blog, so watch out peoples.]

Ok, here's the thing. In light of my sister's last post, I find myself pondering something. Something profound. And that something is this: why is it she does not have a nickname? Hardly seems fair that she gets to be all GW-like and dole them out to us willy-nilly and we have to just tolerate being called Waif and Missus and Goranas, etcetera and so forth, and yet she gets to skate along scot-free with no label of her own. Well, I say it's time to set things right. From now on, I propose that Kara be known only as...*drumroll*... PuddinPop! Ehh? Whaddya think? Who's with me? Hey, it's better than Pootie Poot, am I right Vlad?

Good. So that's settled then. On to the next item of business, which is venting about the pushback of the next Harry Potter movie premiere. God, that sucks! I hate you, Warner Brothers. Ok, I'm over it now. Thanks for listening, guys.

I'd say that's enough for one post. That was fun, let's do this again sometime, m'kay PuddinPop? M'kay.

A Whole Lot O' What

The chops are gone. Gone. All that work. All that watching. All that pep-talking and name calling and deal-making. Gone. I got to enjoy the completed works for all of a week. Life is unjust. This ranks up there with the Trail of Tears. God I'm an asshole.

I yelled at old people the other day. In my defense, they were toothless and from Ohio (sorry, Kevin). I had a staycation last week when my wonderful darling of a friend from New Orleans came to visit and we were stuck behind them at a gas station and they wouldn't move their fucking minivan so we could get out. We were going to be late for the Timber's game and I'd already taken a nasty blow to the chin from an asshole boulder while river wading in the gorge (don't ask) and my patience was null. So I yelled at them to move. Not politely...though not overly nastily. However, what makes this story worthwhile was the teenage dude in the Trans Am who turned to me after I did it and said through his open window "fucking old people".

Now, people who know me well, or even a little, know that I utter this phrase rather constantly. To hear it from someone else at a moment like this justified my very curmudgeonly existence. We shared a moment, he and I, and it was a lovely one (if clouded by old people).

So, if I have any readers left, you'll have noticed that my last post ended with a cliffhanger. I was going to give the Missus his grand prize of a new, more masculine blog nickname for "successfully" growing chops. But the fact of the matter is...I can't decide on one. You people, though not asked, volunteered to help. Since this is a free country and all, and some of you actually live in it...I think I'll let you give you a little taste of Democracy and we'll put it to a vote.

Behold...a poll.