1. Remember the other day when I went blog-hopping? The guy who writes the blog between Sarcastro’s and the chick’s I ended up at left me a nice comment and the posts he links to say better than I can about the strange fortuities of the internet.
2. Today is day two of “B. feels so much better.” What the fuck? I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong. But it’s really like someone flipped a switch between February and March and I feel more like my old self than I have in months.
3. I don’t read a lot of fiction and Todd A’s book reminds me why. I’m about half way through it and I just can’t go any farther. It’s good, don’t get me wrong, but I cannot stand the antagonist and I can’t bear to watch the protagonist suffer any more under his machinations. I’ve got to know, he gets it in the end, right? No, don’t tell me. No, wait, tell me. Okay, don’t.
Also, Todd does very little writing about cooters–he’s more a tits man, apparently–but the cooter writing he does was surprisingly touching, in a weird way.
4. The effort to get the Butcher a car continues. One of you sent me a link to Metro’s auction site. Now I feel compelled to ask if any of you have any experience with this and any advice for the Butcher about it. Is it a good idea to buy a car up for auction? I’ve got to tell you, I’m thinking about getting me seven copiers. That seems almost too good to pass up.
5. Give Huck a job, Nashville folks. But, if you hire him, you must promise to let him come to lunch with me on occasion, otherwise, I’ll be lonely. His talents include fathering children, conversation, and mayhem. No, really, a great propensity for mayhem. Also, for a mere $15,000 a year more, I’ll throw in the Butcher–he has issues with authority, but he’s great with people and has extensive sales experience.
6. I forgot to mention that now is prime puppy/baby/shirtless man watching weather over at Centennial Park. If you like to look at any or all of those things, might I suggest wandering over there this weekend?
7. As we were walking out of the office today, my co-worker turned to me and said, “Well, sometimes it just bees that way.” This tickled the shit out of me.
8. Well, I forget what eight was for…
Ha, I haven’t thought about that song in ages. But what a good song.
All right, y’all. I’m headed back to Todd’s novel. This “happy” shit is unnerving me, but let’s enjoy it while it’s here.