It’s really starting to creep me out that all the contextual ads on the front page are turning out to be god-related. I may have to end this little test drive less than a day after starting it. Of course, the very first ad that appeared this afternoon was for “Lesbian video streams”, which was just as inappropriate, but slightly less creepy, at least.
Bed now.
I was going to have a cool new post up this morning for your amusement, but instead I spent two hours fixing a database problem on the Groceteria Message Board, so it will have to wait. I’m not sure if I was hacked or what, but it sure was annoying having to figure out how to fix it and then change all my passwords, etc., especially since I had someplace to be at 12:30.
Anyway, look for something fun here tonight.
Disclaimer: your definition of “fun” may differ from mine.
Tonight, in honor of the season, I’m celebrating May Sweeps. May Sweeps 1977, that is. These are taken from actual May 1977 issues of TV Guide, part of my sizable collection with which I’ve recently been reunited.
I remember 1977. It was the year the Brady Bunch embarassed themselves and their fans by doing perhaps the worst variety show in the history of network TV. And I watched every episode, for some reason. Masochism, I guess. Or a crush on Peter…
Yes, it’s the original Charlie’s Angels, and a special 90-minute episode, at that. And who remembers Space:1999, featuring the grooviest spaceship decor ever, stuff that I would have killed for in 1999. Or now.
The third anniversary of Happy Days. As I recall, that was about the time the whole cast got tired of having 1950s haircuts and started sporting a strange sort of Brylcreem and Blow-dried hybrid look.
Funny, but the term “brand new action tonight” in an ad makes me think of just about anything but Barnaby Jones.
Doesn’t it stand to reason that if it’s Chevy’s very first special, it would, by definition, be “like no special he’s ever done before”? Or is that the gag? I’m sure, though, that it must’ve bombed against the Arnold Schwarzenegger episode of The Streets of San Francisco.
Ah, 1977. When network TV still mattered. Except of course for Space:1999 and the Nixon-Front Interviews, which were syndicated shows. Had to add that for accuracy’s sake.
Mmmm. Inflatable drive-in.
Actuallly, it’s a pretty cool idea.
It probably comes as no surprise that, in general, I’m not a big fan of poetry. Maybe it’s just a reaction to all those high school papers I had to write over-analyzing The Waste Land, but using verse has always struck me as an extremely pretentious, obtuse, and (often) just plain silly means of making a point.
Why is it, though, that every time someone mentions a “poetry slam”, it fills my mind with happy visions of some new $1.99 breakfast combo at Denny’s?
Iambic omelette, anyone?
I drove to Tennessee for the afternoon today, just because I could. If it weren’t almost three hours away, I’d drive to Bristol again tomorrow, just so it would be Monday and this place would be open, so I could eat there.
I’ve had this model of it since I was a kid. It was kind of sad to catch the BBC news tonight and see the real thing in such a state.
I suspected as much, and I was right. Fred Phelps and his wacky band of merry men will, in fact, be picketing the funeral of well-known liberal and homo-sympathizer Jerry Falwell. It’s always good to have some comic relief on a Tuesday morning, and those zany folks at Westboro Baptist Church are always already to deliver the goods.
I really need to find some kids my own age to hang out with.
I’m really not the social sort, and I haven’t really made many friends since moving back to North Carolina. Most of the ones I had here before have moved away, or otherwise disappeared. And my life has drifted off in a somewhat different direction from a few. So far, it hasn’t been a big problem. Frankly, I’m quite fond of my own company and I’m not at all averse to spending time alone. And I do a pretty fair amount of that since (a) I work at home, and (b) Mark is gone for two weeks out of every month.
But most of the social interaction I do have these days is with my parents and other assorted relatives. Most of them are on the north side of 70 years old. And I don’t think that’s entirely healthy for me right now, as much as I respect people of age — and even as much as I fancy myself as something of an old coot…
It’s difficult to think about one’s future when surrounded by people who, frankly, no longer think much about their own. Given my current state of mind, I really don’t need for most of my conversations to be about illnesses, doctors, and medication, nor do I want to start thinking of funerals as social occasions.
To be honest, I’ve had a bit of an overdose of “old” lately, and it’s getting me a little down. I’m becoming a little obsessed with aging and death, and that’s just not a good thing to combine with a midlife crisis. Being in school in the fall will help, no doubt, as will finding an outside job. Until then, however…
If you live in the Triad, and find me at all interesting, and if you want to hang out sometime (and are under 70), let me know. I like to eat (a lot), roam around used book stores, take long and pointless urban drives, etc. I tend to be cranky and antisocial on a superficial level, but if I like you, I’ll probably at least be less so. I also won’t require a huge time commitment, since I’ll probably always enjoy my own company more than anyone else’s anyway. Both boys and girls are eligible.
I’m not looking for sex partners (I have one), nor for people to play sports or “do nature” with (blecch…), nor for drinking buddies (I don’t drink). If you thought I was looking for any of these things, you obviously haven’t been paying attention and you probably shouldn’t apply.
Hey, this whole advertising thing worked really well once before, albeit under considerably different circumstances.