1. According to my TV–and why would it lie to me?–Loretta Lynn became a grandmother at 29. I can barely imagine being a mother at 31.
2. Yes, I’m doing some dishes so that, no matter how much the Man from GM doesn’t mind the comfiness, we have something to eat off of.
3. I have finally made the blog roll at Pith In The Wind. PITW is the blog of the Nashville Scene. I don’t know if this means I’ll have to start being nice to them or what. I’ve challenged them to a tag team wrestling match just to finally get an answer to a lingering question. We’ll see what comes of it.
4. Even though I had a shitty day, I heard 2 Led Zeppelin songs on the radio and Three Dog Night and CCR. At least Nashville radio still loves me. I have to say that my favorite thing about that Three Dog Night song is that, when they sing “Joy to the world” it’s not nice. There’s no froo froo softness. It’s really incredible, that they sing about joy like it’s a revolutionary emotion, not just a step up from happy.
Well, I guess it is.
Led Zeppelin, it’s true that if I had a time machine, I would not have dinner with you, but good god, I would go back in time to let y’all walk me through Alistair Crowley’s house…
Noshville! What the fuck? First, you’re outrageously expensive. It’s just a sandwich and some fries. It doesn’t make me shit gold. What am I paying for?
Like the waiter we had today who didn’t bother to split the check, even though every restaurant around here always splits the check automatically at lunchtime, and then, when we asked him to do it, huffed and puffed and tried to just charge us all $11 for our meal, as if we hadn’t noticed that the whole bill was $55 and we all had things that cost different amounts?
Eleven dollars for a sandwich, fries, and coke?
Maybe it’s just because I’m having a shitty day here at work, but I almost need to go home and take the afternoon off on account of outrage.
I’m very tempted to take the Mac Mini that filled with water due to the over-ambitious air conditioning condensation and walk back down to Noshville and just start beating people with it.
That would make me feel better.
The Man from GM is coming to visit. I’ve known this for approximately a month. Last night, I cleaned the dog and the tub and wiped off the sink.
The dishes are laying all over the house like little porcelain landmines. The laundry is pouring out of the dryer and working its way upstairs on its own. There’s fifty pounds of dog food right in front of the washer and the downstairs bathroom is really, at this point, just a closet with a weird fountain under some stuff.
I don’t know what my deal is, but I just could not bring myself to actually get ready for his arrival.
Thank goodness he’s known me half my life. He won’t be surprised by any of it.