Halfbeard’s Inane Weekend Moralizing

Jehovah-Jireh… God will provide. Do you believe it?

I went to a friend’s wedding this weekend in Willoughby, Ohio. The number of bachelors I know is dwindling steadily. My sister, en route to a wedding in Warren, took me to the NE outskirts of Akron so I could hitch the rest of the way. I barely got onto the road before I was greeted with “fuckin’ hippy!” by a pack of testosterogues — bored male teenagers with IQs matching their speedometer reading. (more…)

Bushie Needs to Tinkle

Sarah told me yesterday that some company sells Dr. Pepper-flavored chapstick, which I’m now going to start using obsessively. I think it will be really convenient for my Dr. Pepper-obsessed girlfriend because then she would end up eating a lot of Dr. Pepper on a pretty regular basis.

You know how to tell how badly a “favor” is going to inconvenience you? The time between the question and the task required. A long pause means certain doom.
“Hey can you do me a favor and pass the salt?”
“Hey can you do me a favor… and drop off my movies at Blockbuster?”
“Hey can you do me a favor… … … and loan me $5k?”
A comedian told me this some time ago and I remembered this afternoon while eavesdropping on Brenton and T. Lois.

Wired News: Killer Buzz Flocks to New Browser. You’ll notice how witty this headline is when you discover the new browser (which does sound cool) is named Flock.

“How to Tell a True War Story” by Tim O’Brien, from The Things They Carried. Recommended by both The Petersen and myself.

The scribbling in the photo to the left reads: “I think I MAY NEED A BATHroom break? IS this POSSIBLE?” Yep, that’s Dubya during a UN Security Council meeting.

God I’m Old

Poke me.

Brenton is mowing our lawn with gas I bought in a milk jug and it smells good and it smells like summer. The setting sun tonight was hot pink and orange and hot sex and I liked it.

I think I’m down to about a 50% chance of survival every time I get into my car. There are noises and groanings and pleas for automobile euthanasia.

Ray Romano in his Pulitzer-winning comedy book says you’re getting old if you can name two anti-depressants other than Prozac. Strike One. Or, he says, if you can’t remember if you’ve shampooed in the morning. Strike two. Today I didn’t even stop and think about it, so sure was I that I hadn’t washed my hair yet. Turns out I had. I hate wasting shampoo because there are so many starving children in Africa and our nation is at war and I like to do my part to help out. Like not eat meat on Wednesdays and ration my hair products. For the troops.

I want to be on a trampoline by a pool right now and feel young and vibrant and nineteen.