I had no idea until this weekend that we have The Documentary Channel. It’s pretty cool.
Things are moving along nicely here at Murdering Stream Estates. We should be able to get most of the remaining odds and ends out of the Charlotte apartment in one more trip; most of what’s left there is the other half of my rather large collection of vinyl and a few small kitchen appliances.
Mark‘s office is set up quite nicely, while mine is awaiting a new desk, which may be chosen tomorrow. Yes, we each have our own offices, each of which is about half again as big as any single room in our old apartment in San Francisco. Mine should be very comfy as it also contains most of my old childhood bedroom suite, including the bed.
The washer and dryer, which had for some reason been disconnected and moved to the garage, are now in their proper places and again are functional, if a bit loud. The guest bedroom now has its bed, and the kitchen is fully stocked, with Libby Hill leftovers in the refrigerator.
I like our house.
Hank Hill to Christian rocker: “Can’t you see that you’re not making Christianity better? You’re just making rock and roll worse.”
Best “King of the Hill” quote ever…
Anyone who knows me well would probably say that the photo above is not something they ever really expected to see in this space.
Five years ago today, I got an email message from some guy in Fresno on the subject of road trips I’d taken and how they related to one he was thinking of taking at the time. Even way back then, I was getting really bad about not answering email in a timely fashion, if at all. For some reason, though, I eventually answered his.
My life has never been the same. And I’m glad.
Yet another reason I want to visit Cincinnati soon.
OK. Back to the packing now…
Ned Flanders lives.
Please let this not be a trend that catches on. A little hair above the upper lip is just fine and dandy (although I’d suggest it looks a lot better as part of a combo involving a beard than as a standalone unit), but those big, bushy, walrus-like things are another story entirely. In my book of fashion nightmares, they’re at about the same level as those stupid exaggerated bell-bottom jeans every white trash rave kid in America was wearing a couple of years back. You know, the ones that were always frayed and dirty at the bottom from dragging the ground at the tractor pull?
Yes, people have a right to accessorize as they so choose, but no one has a right to look so ridiculous that I have trouble swallowing my food because I’m laughing at them so hard, dammit.
I’ve mentioned many times (with a certain wry self-righteousness) that I pretty much stopped doing drugs when I was still in high school. If I ever question that decision, I now know that all I need do is sit through a few minutes of Frank Zappa’s 200 Motels.
Good god.
On a radically unrelated note, isn’t this just the cutest little kitchen cabinet you ever did see? Oh come on. Indulge me. Didn’t I “ooh” and “ahh” sufficiently over the pictures of your new kitten or the video of that stuff your baby spit up?
Have I mentioned that I’m never moving again once we get settled in the new house? One of the only universally positive things I can say about my thirteen years in San Francisco is that I never had to move during that time.
Anyhow, Sunday is the big day. I can’t really say that I’m looking forward to it. We have to get the U-Haul truck, load it in Charlotte (which will be no small task given the layout of this apartment building), drive to Winston and unload it, and then (assuming we live through it and have time) go to Greensboro and pick up some more stuff from my parents.
Still, it can’t suck any more than last year’s cross-country move did, except for the fact that we’ll have to load and unload on the same day this time around. It’s a pretty safe bet, at least, that we won’t get stuck in a small town in Texas this move.
Updates may not be forthcoming for the next couple of days.
Today’s addition to the “stupidity reigns in American retailing” pile involves department store chain Boscov’s being sued for religious discrimination by two Christians, two Wiccans and a pagan after canceling religion classes it had planned to teach.
Why on earth would a department store chain have any interest whatsoever in teaching any sort of religion class? Legal implications aside, what the heck does it have to do with selling merchandise?