If I Had a Twitter Account...

... I'd have posted something along the lines of:  Dan Cathy has offered Todd Akin Chick Fil A for life.

Lose/Lose

I knew when I answered the phone that I was screwed.

The husband of my wife's friend called and explained that another husband of my wife's friend (not the same friend.  Although one couple is Mormon.  I've always contended that the women should have a shot at multiple husbands if they really wanted to.  What d'ya say, Handy?) had expressed an interest in seeing a baseball game and they wanted to know if I wanted to go with...

The answer, of course, is no.  Not because I dislike these husbands - perfectly nice individuals - but rather because my tolerance for crowds has greatly diminished over the years and, frankly, I just don't enjoy it any more.  But, of course, I couldn't say that because I knew there'd be recriminations at home - "why did you tell Bocephus* that you didn't want to go?  They're my friends too and they're going to think you don't like them if you keep rejecting them..."

*sigh*

So I said yes.  And prayed that maybe, just maybe, the Gods would intervene and something would happen to get me out of it: the game being sold out, a sinkhole swallowing the stadium, hurricane Zasu** flooding the city.  Hey, it could happen.  As the day approached though it became evident that there would be no deus ex machina for me.  I would have to go.

I will confess, in my own passive/aggressive way, that I could have left a tad earlier.  But, still, I was pulling up to the stadium a full 40 minutes before the game started.  What I wasn't prepared for was a change in the traffic patterns - the route I normally would take was blocked off and I was shunted with startling speed south of town before I knew it.  A series of left turns got me back on track - now on the other side of the stadium - where I promptly got stuck in traffic.

And it's the worst kind of traffic - you know, folks changing lanes then changing back, people jumping out of vehicles, car door to car door sales folks offering to buy or sell.  There were police waiving folks in various directions: I think their sole job was to keep us all circling for as long as they could without giving us an opportunity to park.

So it was that at the end of the second inning I was STILL stuck in traffic, behind the Incredible Expectorating Man***, when I saw my sign.  No, it didn't say 'Parking,' it said "this way to the interstate."  Eff it, I thought, I'm going home.  So I texted the husbands, jumped on the freeway and watched the last four innings (we lost) from the comfort of home.

Yes, I did catch hell the next day but, as I said, I knew I was screwed from the very beginning.

*Not his real name.
**Also not her real name.
***If it's not his real name it should be.  I wonder if his date was impressed.

Twitter

After a brief foray into the twitterverse I once again chickened out. 

Well, not necessarily out of fear, I think.  It's more of an obsessive thing.  "This tweet was funny, dammit, why didn't anyone reply to it?" or "Is this tweeter being sarcastic or serious?" or "You're being stupid tweeting at that quasi-celebrity" or "Gosh, she's cute."  And so I find myself thinking about tweets and checking in way too damned frequently.  There's something in my make up that makes me unable to do the digital social thing in moderation.  LOL  It's much safer being here where no one reads.

I have low expectations and it's best, apparently, to keep it that way.

Obama and those Damned Muslims

We took a visit up to the mountain between the holidays and I asked at the hardware store if the town had any special events going on for New Years - something that would interest the kids was my hope.

"Nothing that I know of besides whatever those damned Democrats are doing," the clerk said.

"Damned Democrats?" I asked.

"Yeah, they are doing some kind of veterans function at the City Park. I'm just sick of all of them!" she replied.

"The veterans or the Democrats?" I couldn't help needling her a bit.

"Well, the Democrats but mostly that man in the White House. I'll be damned before I'd support someone that kisses a prayer mat. Damned Muslims," she added.

Seriously. I'm not making it up. I could tell there wasn't much room for an intelligent conversation. There was no point mentioning how far the previous administration was up the Saudi's hinders, for example. This gal, salt of the earth type, running a small business in a small town honestly believes this: #1 that Obama is a Muslim and #2 that that's actually a bad thing!

So I joke about voting all the politicians out - usually safe ground and was certainly so this time, too. But as I left I could still hear her grousing about Obama, terrorists and damned Muslims...

There's no moral to this story here folks. Just some food for thought.

Valerie Bertinelli Nude

Credit: Peter Kramer, NBC Universal / AP

I was reading an edition of Ladies Home Journal the other day when I wondered what the search stats were on 'Valerie Bertinelli Nude'. C'mon, you'd be reading it too if Valerie was on the cover so don't look at me like that. And the nude thing, well, you're here so you can't upbraid me for that, either.

Valerie was probably one of my first celebrity crushes. Just a few years older than I am and just cute as can be - then and now. And she has that smile that makes you melt, just a little, every time you see it. She looks great now. Looked great then. And, frankly, I don't care how chubby she might have gotten, I bet she was STILL cute. The woman can't help it.

I remember being sad at her pairing with EVH but figured someone as cool as him should be the one Valerie lands with. (That was before we realized the cool members of Van Halen weren't the Van Halens...)

Life moves on and we're all older now. Lessons learned. Experienced whether we want to be or not. All that said, Valerie Bertinelli being cute is one of the few constants in our lives that makes the world that much better. Even if she's not nude, you perv.