Updating the Ol' Image

Today, while waiting for my car to emerge from the
repair shop (cars LOVE those places, don't they??),
I wandered into the drug store to "browse".

I saw that "Tucks Medicated hemorrhoid Pads" were
formerly known as "Anusol" pads.

Is Tucks really a better name? The image alone is
disturbing. Soon they'll be calling the suppositories
"Jamz".

I consoled myself with the knowledge that I don't
need any of these products anyway!!

Happy Birthday

...to me.

Memorable quotes this year from Master L on the occasion:

"Wow, you're old!"

"You have lots of white hairs, Dad. I should have collected them for
my '100 day' collection for school!"

All said with love and admiration....of course....

When my Aunt Peggy was still alive, you could always count on
an inappropriately-early morning phone call, which would consist
only of a raspy-voiced singing of:

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
You look like a monkey
And smell like one too

Then, she'd just hang up on you. Presumably, so you wouldn't have
time to respond...and she knew it was way too early for you to bother
calling back to complain!

Oh, well. Time to start the celebrations....I think changing the car's
oil is first on the agenda.....

Oh! Limp Pics...

I don't know. I just don't get the winter olympics. The male
skaters seem to lack the grace of the women (no surprise,
really, and I think it's all about muscle with the men).

How does someone get started in ski jumping? Is there
a sanity test?

I always thought oval lingotto was a kind of pasta. Who knew?

I've been having a tough time getting excited about the whole thing.

But wait...CURLING! Now there's a sport. I scared Mrs. L
by actually knowing something about it, and now she's hooked
on it. She says she just liked watching bad things happen to the
bitchy-looking blonde on the Russian team, but I don't know.
I think Mrs. L may have the curling bug. It used to just be
curly fries....

Green and Orange

green and orange green and orange green and orange green and orange green and orange
green and orange green and orange green and orange green and orange green and orange
green and orange green and orange green and orange green and orange green and orange

I swear - the producers of those 'home improvement' and 'decorating' television
shows must sell all the green and orange paint in the world.

I'm sorry....but those rooms are ugly! Don't buy the hype!

Typical

It seems I completely forgot my one-year bloggerversary,
which was sometime last month.

No flowers...no nice note...not even a card....
What a bastard I am. I hate myself.

...in the doghouse for the foreseeable future....

An 'Olympic' Admission

The Winter Olympics are being shown on tape-delay here because
of the time difference. The results are available (and broadcast
on the news) before the events are shown on television. Usually there
is a warning, something like "we are about to show today's results,
so you may wish to turn down the sound".

One of the local anchormen took it slightly further the other day,
saying: "If you can turn off the sound of my voice and avert your
gaze, you'll be living my wife's dream."

All Normal, Except For Pink Milk

On Saturday, I left the house during a rainstorm (I had a gig, after all, so
the weather had to be bad!). I drove at the turtle's pace allowed by
the drivers in front of me, but thankfully had plenty of time to get
to where I was going.

Around here, if there is ANY precipitation AT ALL, everyone slows
WAY down (ridiculously so) and then hits their brakes every 20 seconds
or so....because we all know that locking up your wheels is the best
way to get traction on a wet road....er...hmm....

After a twice-as-long commute, I arrived in the City of Potholes.
Well, that's what it should be called. It's been called worse.

Ate some dinner, played the required blues notes (see the outdoor
mascot, above), then drove home in a rainstorm.

When I got there, I found a few dirty glasses in the sink that had
obviously contained strawberry milk. Uh, oh. Strawberry milk is
Mrs. L's "I'm desperately ill" comfort food, so this was a bad sign.

Woke up Sunday: no rain!
Go figure.