Horse's Ass Pub

HEEBY JEEBIES!!

2009-07-13T08:23:00.000-07:00

You GUYS!!!

We were in Maine over the weekend. Stayed at a little B&B we like, met some friends for food and drinks, went to a minor league baseball game, had some more drinks, then they went home and we had yet more drinks...you know, as we tend to do.

Went to bed, got up hungover, of course, started getting ready to check out and drive home. And we discovered a jacket in the room that does not belong to either of us. Don't know where it came from, but SPOUSE figured we accidentally grabbed it out of the car belonging to our friends when they dropped us off at the inn after our day-long hooch-fest. Easy enough to do, right? So, as we checked out, we brought the jacket to the front desk and said "this belongs to our friend - we'll call her and tell her it's here, she'll come pick it up."

Okay, so we get home and there's a message on the answering machine from the inn. They found a set of house keys in our room after we left - they thought the keys were ours and were hoping we'd get the message before we were too far away to double back.

Thing is...they were NOT our keys.

Hmmm....a strange jacket and set of keys in our room...that somehow APPEARED at some point between our check-in and going out, and getting up in the morning.

GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

It may be an innocent thing - nothing was stolen and thieves tend NOT to leave jackets and keys behind when they do their pilfering. Could be some of the inn's room keys work in several rooms and someone got confused (very old building, lots of twisty hallways and nonsensical layout), went into our room thinking it was theirs, realized it wasn't, panicked and left quickly, leaving their jacket and keys behind.

But the idea that it wasn't innocent keeps nagging at me.

I mean...a voyeur in the closet? Hope they enjoyed the show.

Bleugh.

The Problem...

2009-07-07T15:33:00.000-07:00

The Problem with having to find something polished and professional to wear for a job interview...

...is that no matter what you wear...

...it is abso-fuckin-lutely IMPOSSIBLE to look polished and professional...

...when you have massive fucking tits.

That is all.

Untamed World!

2009-06-15T08:01:00.000-07:00

I am taking Mondays off this summer - HUZZAH for banking vacation days for 10 years - now I can indulge in my favorite Sunday afternoon behavior without the specter of Monday morning looming over me and killing the buzz.

And it's a good thing I was up late last night because at roughly 1AM, as I was lounging in the living room, polishing off the last of the Gnarly Head Old Vine Zinfandel, and watching some English costume drama or other (let's hear it for Matthew McFadyen and his big, warm eyes - hummuna) I had to rush outside to collect my (indoor) cats from the driveway. Seems one of the neighborhood cats, that little tiger cat from across the street, whose owners are about as feral as their frigging pets (their dog shits in our yard at will and will have it kicked out of him next time I catch him at it - and the human female breeds as indiscriminately as her cats - she's up to five moronic children with four different tattooed fuckwit fathers. Ugh.)...this little tiger cat had come by looking for trouble, got too close to the house, and caused my gentle little 5 pound buttercups to FLING themselves against the window screen with enough force to knock it completely out of the window, and land, in a snarling, screaming, howling, puffed up, angry and frightened jumble at the foot of the driveway.

When I arrived, the feral little bastard (whom I suspect had been littered under our porch two summers ago) had scarpered, and it was just my two little angels (ha!), sitting there, growling and snarling, and about three times their normal size. Luckily they allowed me to grab them, fling one under each arm, and get them back in the house - whereupon they made a run straight for the screenless front window, which I had not closed in my rush to turn the alarm off and run outside to prevent them from barreling off into the wilds of Waltham, never to be seen again. Luckily the ruckus had woken SPOUSE up and he was blocking their exit. Next time, I'm letting them spend the night outside in the rain, see how they like that, the ungrateful little shits.

But I'm going to have to say something to those fucking hillbillies and their wandering zoo.

Hammered on a Saturday evening

2009-06-13T16:10:00.000-07:00

The most underrated band in the history of music

2009-06-12T06:07:00.000-07:00

The band that rhymed "Bring on the blood and the bandages" with "I'll make the tea and the sandwiches."

Oh hell yeah.

Anyone else going to be at TT the Bear's on August 16th? I haven't been to TT's in YEARS...but it's where I was just about every weekend in my 20's, seeing bands like Bim Skala Bim and Scruffy the Cat. I wonder if the insulation is still showing... Come on now, rock again.

...hangs out in the back yard...eats a lot of berries...

2009-05-29T06:51:00.000-07:00

...drinks a lot of wine...reads a lot of books...

This is my Sunday perch. The wine is a very crisp, citrussy Pinot Grigio. Don't normally like white wine, but if it's not chardonnay (bleugh) and is crisp and cold enough, it can be a nice palate cleanser on a hot day, especially if you've had a lot of beer the night before and you're too bloaty and farty for more hops. The novella (On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan) took me about a half the afternoon last Sunday, from start to finish. A well-written, engaging, quick novel also works as a palate cleanser between all the science and politics. But I have to stop feeling like I'm wasting my time when I read fiction. You CAN learn something from it, after all, even if it's just a little bit about how a good author thinks.

I think I'd like to be friends with Ian McEwan.

This picture was taken in the late afternoon, when the sun was behind a huge oak tree. Mostly that spot gets full sun. I must be careful or I will burst into flame. You can see some of my potted vegetables in the back there, and those pipey looking things are the base of a hammock we got as a wedding present, and is SPOUSE'S Sunday perch, where he drinks beer and listens to baseball on the radio.

We are living the motherfucking dream.

I shall plant things and they shall grow like motherfuckers..

2009-05-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

HUZZAH for long weekends! Took the day off today, stretching the holiday weekend into a nice little 4-day vacation.

I've been doing some gardening. I've put in a bunch of perennials around the place, and made some pretty borders and an herb garden. Spent a lot of cash, and broke a lot of sweat. There is always more to do though. In a short time, once my workout is done and I'm ready to be seen outside the warren, I shall go and buy yet more plants. And then I shall put them in various places around the grounds, and then I shall water them, set a chair outside, open a book and a bottle of wine...and sit down... to enjoy...my...holidayyyyyy.

Here are some pictures I took last weekend. First, the front yard.

Azaleas burst into bloom in spring and then spend the rest of the summer looking green and sullen. But right now, thanks to a cold spring, these beauties seemed to bloom late, and the blossoms are taking their time about withering. My camera phone doesn't do the plant justice. It's a frigging fireball.

These are some hostas I put in last year. They're getting pretty big and beginning to crowd each other a bit. In the fall I'll dig one or two of them up and put it someplace else. Hostas are great - a perennial that loves shade, and the acidic New England soil, and they basically mean you'll never have to garden that patch of ground again, once they take. Which is why , last weekend, I put some in the back yard, under a HUGE azalea that has already lost its spring bloom.

Here they are, complete with the weeds and shit behind them that I'm hoping they grow to cover up, because it's almost impossible to get back there and pull all that stuff out. I can't be bothered, anyway.

Below is a portion of my herb garden. As you can see, it was time to put the rabbit outside. Here he is, happily lording it over the lavendar, lemon thyme, oregano and chives. How much of these herbs will I actually use? Precious little, to be honest. But they're pretty and they smell nice.

Which is why this year instead of loading up the herb garden with herbs I won't use, I put in these lupins. In front of them are last year's rosemary and a bunch of basil plants I put in last week. I DO use basil. TONS of basil. So there it is. I've also got some tomato plants in pots, so I'll be rocking the insalata caprese - nom, nom.

The previous owners of the house planted these irises next to the garage. They're stunning - but the camera made them look brighter than they are. Their color is actually such a dark purple, they're almost black. The only down side to these is that they smell like licorice. Minging.

Another shot of the irises. Got good life out of them this year. Last year they bloomed and then it rained really hard for four days straight, battering the poor bastards into the ground. Boo.

Over.

2009-05-14T20:24:00.000-07:00

Fuck.

I knew it when the game went into overtime.

Fuck.

...likes to party on his birthday.

2009-05-14T08:51:00.000-07:00

Here's the story: A certain gentleman of Waltham will be spending his next birthday behind bars, as a result of a road rage incident in which he decided to follow SPOUSE around the city one night last week - making incomprehensible but very threatening noises, eventually using his own car to ram the back of SPOUSE'S car before slinking away to try and avoid arrest by hiding in plain sight in a parking lot on Newton Street. Now, SPOUSE will fully admit he likes to drive like it's a video game, so at first I thought "yeah, what'd you do to set THIS in motion?" but by the time of the actual ramming, and he called the police, his was the THIRD call to 911 that night about the same guy. He'd been making the rounds of Waltham/Watertown, weaving around so obviously that several other calls had come in already before SPOUSE even had the misfortune to make his acquaintance.

Seems our little friend had lost his license at this time last year (turns out it was right around his birthday, again) and when found last week he'd been drinking, driving around without a license or insurance, cocaine in his car and no doubt in his system, and evidently very little gray matter operating in the brain case.

Oh sweetie - when you were little and went to school, did you ride in the big bus, or the little bus?

Exciting, suburban life, innit?

But that's all I have for today. Tomorrow I'll either be elated or gutted, depending on how the Bruins perform in Game 7 tonight against the inferior, but surprisingly quick and agile Hurricanes. I do believe the Bruins are the better team, but Carolina has impressed me with their speed and puck handling, at least in games 2, 3, and 4 of the series. I'm more nervous than I'd like to admit.

EEEEEP!!!!!

RIP

2009-05-08T06:24:00.000-07:00

Dominic DiMaggio - 1917-2009

Detoxing for creative dreaming

2009-05-07T07:23:00.000-07:00

Today is day 6 without coffee. Which explains why this week feels like it started back in the frigging Neolithic.

Has anyone else had the experience, when detoxing from anything, be it coffee, alcohol, drugs...that you get some really insane dreams? I certainly do.

Here are a few highlights from this week:

*I was sharing a frat house with the surviving members of Big Country, and working on putting the band back together. It is unclear who was to do the singing. Don't ask me - I was there out of context. Of course I had to do all the flaming house-cleaning.

*I was drinking gins the size of watering cans, at a full-on, black and white, late 50's or early 60's style cocktail party, the guest list of which included Peter Cook, Kingsley Amis, and Peter Sellers. Yep - in my dream life, I party with dead guys. As everyone else in the dream, I was in FAB-ulous 50's gear, complete with spike heels, bitchin' cocktail dress, make-up, and hair that looked like this:

*I was imprisoned in my home town's library, a building I haven't entered in about 20 years, on a minor charge (haven't a clue what) and waiting for trial - but kind of indifferent about getting out because I was making a mint by hoarding toilet paper and selling it at a huge profit to other inmates. Plus, the jump suit made my ass look gorgeous.

Tonight, I bet it has something to do with professional sports, maybe Milan Lucic and kittens. Hope so, anyway.

Dressing oneself is a bitch

2009-04-30T06:16:00.000-07:00

When you distill everything down to its most simple components, you find ways of complicating even the most mundane of tasks. For example, getting myself dressed every morning is an absolute pain in the hoop. When all one ever wears is jeans and t-shirts, even such a seemingly uncomplicated selection as that can become a full-on brain tease. There is actually a calculus involved in putting together even so simple an outfit, because within the t-shirt category there is a LOT of variation. V-necks, crew necks, short-sleeved, long-sleeved, black, gray, loose-fitting, tight-fitting...and does that color/fit clash with that day's choice of jeans? What's the weather like and what will be more comfortable given the temperature outside and in my office? Did I wear a crew or v-neck yesterday? Was it black or some other color? Which jeans did I wear - you can't wear the same color and/or wash two days in a row, people will think you're unclean or crazy, like that biology teacher you had in high school who seemed to wear the exact same doubleknit trousers every day, paired with one of two different shirts on alternate days. And then there's the boots? Which ones? Doc Martens, Timberlands, Frye or ...the other Timberlands?

But anyway, that's not the reason I'm posting today.

The reason I'm posting today is to say this:

Neighbors who have a postage-stamp-sized lawn, who nevertheless feel the need to hire landscapers who show up at 6:45am, with large trucks with back-up beeping signals, leaf blowers and lawn mowers...need to be horse-whipped. And yes, salted.

That may be all. Don't know yet.

Litmus test

2009-04-18T07:24:00.001-07:00

If you drive an Escalade, you may be a douchebag.

If you drive a white Escalade, you probably are a douchebag.

If you drive an Escalade with vanity plates, chances you're a douchebag are near 90%.

If you drive an Escalade, with vanity plates, playing your stereo at deafening volume and shouting at bicyclists, Congratulations. You are KING OF THE DOUCHEBAGS.

That is all.

...No, wait.

Forgot to put up the kilted man photo. Running out of celebrities, but here's an oldie but goodie. Despite the mullett.

HOOCH AND HOCKEY!

2009-04-16T12:00:00.000-07:00

After a long winter of going straight home every day after work, eating dinner with the SPOUSE, then getting in my PJ's to spend the evening on the couch, quiet and alone by 6:30PM (Yes, alone - and it's a good thing. He goes to the man-cave to watch whatever other sports are on, and I have been only interested in hockey and whatever Netflix selections are in the house - thank Salma for multiple televisions) ...tonight, I am actually going out. Out to socialize, watch the Bruins start the Eastern Conference Playoffs against Montreal (boooo), have some drinks, play pub trivia, and speak to other human beings.

Live.

That is a SHITLOAD of activity for someone who hasn't said 7 words after 7PM to any living soul since October.

I suspect my head will explode.

In fact, if my lower alcohol tolerance is anything to go by, it'll keep exploding into tomorrow morning.
I'm thinking the Bruins take this series in 5 games. Don't argue with me. Five. Shut it.
That is all.

Happy Easter.

2009-04-12T07:57:00.000-07:00

Blurt.

2009-04-03T06:38:00.000-07:00

I think that when the authorities find the computer virus- and worm- creating hackers, they should publish their names and addresses so that people like myself, with violent dispositions, armed and pissed off, can go over to their houses and beat the snot out of them.

Remember when my home computer shat the bed? I suspect it was a virus. And this week, yy-eahhhh, my computer at work fell victim to a worm. I don't think it was conficker, but it was pretty fucking vicious and required our IT department a whole day to fix it. What did I do in my office for a day without my computer? Well, my office has never BEEN so clean, for one thing. And I got some reading done.

What the hell did people DO in offices before the computer and e-mail? I imagine they scribbled on paper with these archaic instruments I've heard tell of, things called pens and pencils, or ...christ, how awful...I can't even think of it without squirming...spoke to people on the telephone. Ugh.

Okay, so I'm back up and running now. I'm fine. Really. Again, I didn't have a temper tantrum - just indulged in a bit of whimpering and a low growl or two.

And it's Friday. And the bi-monthly kilted man of the week is...........

Hamish Clark, everybody. Woot! Woot! Woot! The only reason I ever watched "Monarch of the Glen." It aired at 11:30 on Sunday nights, so many is the Monday I would arrive at work with the old dark circles under the bloodshot eyes (you cannot watch MOTG without a few Scottish beers in you) and half a working brain cell. Worth it. Totally.

Rainy Sunday in the Rabbit Warren

2009-03-29T09:59:00.000-07:00

I do love a rainy Sunday. It's 1:34PM here, and evidently I'm not working out today, because if I were, I'd have done it by now. I'm still in my jim-jams, with nothing to do but dick around on my computer, read, wait while the slow-cooker bubbles away on today's yummy soup, and listen to the rain fall. Later, I shall open a nice bottle of red wine.

I am living the dream.

While I've got you here, since you clearly have as little to do as I do, here's my finger, 8 weeks after the office window skirmish. A neighbor who used to do manicures for a living says I'll probably lose the nail eventually. I'm not sure. Wouldn't it have dropped off by now?

In the background are the front windows of my little library. On the left is the stereo thingy I talked about a few months ago, with a stack of books on top which I call my 'on deck circle.' It was down to three or four books, then I had a birthday and it was re-stocked. I'm good for another couple months' worth of reading material. I frigging LOVE that.

In the lower right-hand corner, that dark blur, is this rabbit. Yes, it's a lawn decoration, which spends its summers in the herb garden. But he has such a cheerful little face, and is so frigging cute, I bring him in for the winters, to sit in the corner of my library, to brighten my days. I lo'heem.

You guys didn't know I was such a drip, did you?

While I'm here, and I have time, why don't I just brighten all your worlds and show you the rest of my library.

This is my Sunday perch, a little loveseat we found on Craigslist for free, and covered with a cheap-ass slipcover, that actually turned out to be too big. I tuck it in and tighten it pretty frequently, but it still gets pretty messy. This is where I shall be in a few minutes, when I'm finished boring you with this post.

And I know what you're thinking now. You're thinking, this nutbag calls this room her library, but there's only a few books that I can see. What gives? Well, here then. There are many more books in the house than this, but I haven't been able to get my shit together to buy any larger bookcases (saving for hardwood floors is a priority) so there are many books upstairs in the guest bedroom, or stacked up next to the bed.

What the hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. Might as well just throw the whole room in here. Let my peeps into my world, as it were. Here's my desk. The computer is currently showing this unfinished blog post, still in composition. How's THAT for meta-blogging.

The picture over the desk is that awesome Albrecht Durer rabbit painting. I like rabbits, no shit.

Maturity

2009-03-25T09:16:00.001-07:00

Almost a week has gone by since my home computer died.

It took the weekend to fix, and till last night to rebuild and reload all my operating systems and flashplayers and virus protection and stuff, and get e-mail back on-line. That's right, almost 7 full days of work, but it's back up and running, thanks to the patience of my friends at Dell, and McAfee, and Comcast, and various other on-line help services and what have you.

I'm posting today to let the world know this:

I only had ONE temper tantrum the entire time.

Let me repeat that for those who don't understand the full significance of this:

I only had ONE TEMPER TANTRUM over any part of this, from last Thursday to last night.

This was, at minimum, a 20 tantrum series of events for someone like me - no gene for patience, and no patience for tech-speak, convoluted instructions, too many steps, or trial and error processes.

Have I finally grown up?

I'm fucking Zen, me.

That is all.

Blogger's Home Computer Shits Bed. Blogger Devastated.

2009-03-20T08:13:00.001-07:00

PAHHHHHHH! I'll be on the phone to India, probably all weekend, trying to get it sorted. If it can't be sorted, I'll be on SPOUSE'S laptop for essentials like e-mail and reading the news.

Don't like laptops, me. Don't like the mouse 'pad,' don't like the tiny, toy keyboard, don't like the tiny, tinny speakers. Better than nothing, I suppose. But it means I won't be wandering hither and yon in blogland, leaving my drunken comments all over the shop.

Some birthday, huh?

I'll live.

At least it's Friday.

Ewan. Whooof!

Curmudgeon

2009-03-18T06:28:00.000-07:00

One of our esteemed faculty just called me a "Curmudgeon."

I win.

My tardis is broken.

2009-03-13T03:28:00.000-07:00

It's the damnedest things that wake you up at 4 AM. Here's today's litany of sleep-depriving thoughts:

1. An awful essay I wrote in college almost 20 years ago, on Emerson's "The Oversoul." It STILL pisses me off. My professor couldn't make heads or tails of what I'd written, because I couldn't make heads or tails of the transcendentalists. Nonsense.

2. The brakes on my truck are wonky again - less than a year and a half after spending $800 on new ones. I grew up believing in the reliability and longevity of Ford trucks, but fucking hell. Okay, that's a safety issue, and a money issue. This is the kind of thing that adults worry about. It's perfectly legitimate to be awake at 4 in the morning thinking about that. So let's move on to...

3. WORK! More nonsense, of course. Blee.

4. One of my cats won't touch canned cat food, and only eats canned chicken, which is produced and marketed for people. Well, let's be honest - it's produced and marketed for old people. She eats fairly expensive dry food, so I know she's getting a complete diet, and it's probably better for her than canned cat food which contains fillers and by-products, so it's not really the fact that she eats this stuff that bugs me. It's the fact that this shit is even on the market. This is very disturbing. Bleugh.

5. Had an idea for a great blog post as I was drifting off. Now? Pffft.

6. This song and video clip from "Blackpool." David Tennant's little hip thing at about 30 seconds in - and the wagging finger. Stuck in my head for 3 days now. Help me.

Fuck it. Might as well work out.

What am I bid for my apple, the one that made Adam so wise...

2009-03-06T06:53:00.000-08:00

Alan Rickman.

In a kilt.

Phhwwwwarrrrr.

Something for the ladies today. In the spirit of FMC and her gingerday, I thought I might start a Friday tradition* of my own and do a sexy kilted man.

Did I just say... do a sexy kilted man? That would certainly lift my spirits. Arfff, arfff, arfff... Ohhhh, sometimes I kill me.

How Alan would sneer at this blog post, at the very idea of himself, a serious actor, an intelligent and cultured human being, posted on some silly American woman's blog, as eye candy, objectified in such a demeaning way. How he would SNEER. Which would of course be even sexier. How's THAT for a feedback loop?

Oh dear.

*I'll probably lose interest in a few weeks, or run out of sexy kilted men photos to post, so we'll see how long this lasts. Oh well, at least there's Ewan MacGregor and David Tennant for the next couple of weeks. That's something.

Spring is coming - work that ass off.

2009-03-01T10:26:00.000-08:00

Current favorite elliptical workout CD. Almost exactly 50 minutes long, some great pumping rhythms, slower bits ideally placed so as to coincide with higher resistance in machine's pre-set interval training workout. Faster bits happen with the lower resistance 'sprinting' intervals. One exception - "Tubthumping" is the first song, and would go better closer to the middle of the disk, when you start to flag and need the lift. Otherwise, perfect.

In which I enlighten you as to the state of my health and well-being

2009-02-27T08:18:00.000-08:00

Evidently I'm involved in a war against my own body, which has been going on since the 80's. Here's the result of my latest skirmish, in which I employed the genius tactic of opening my office window and slamming my left index finger into one of the the upper wooden pane dividers. I won that skirmish, having completely subdued the offending digit.

I'll keep you all up to date as to the progress of the nasty bruise, which as of today is already three weeks old. This is going to take MONTHS. Good, I need blog fodder anyway. The fuzziness you see at the top of the bruise is the result of the nail growing, dragging bits of blood with it. Sexy, huh?

Here is a shot of the fingers of my right hand. Notice the middle finger is slightly bent? If you look closely, it's unmistakable. And the middle finger of my left hand is also bent, just in the other direction. This was done in high school, when I played basketball for my high school team. To be honest, I sat on the bench more than I played, (I am both velocity- and vertically-challenged, and I was afraid to wear my glasses in a game - not a good combo for the game of basketball. I later developed a good outside shot in an adult league I played in, since I could afford contact lenses, but in high school it was glasses or nothing. Perhaps it's worth noting that I also got my ass kicked in the adult league. Outside shot or no, I have no business pretending I'm an athlete). This was most likely the result of trying to catch the ball with my fingertips, rather than my palm, in practice. Though I do remember sitting on the bench during one game, literally taking hold of fingers that had been knocked out of joint, pulling them out, and putting them back in position with that sickening, audible crack. So I must have actually been in the game at least a few times.

Seems I'm always slamming fingers in doors, knocking knees on coffee table corners, stubbing toes on table legs, cutting my fingers open with cooking knives, in general getting a new bruise or cut daily.

But these are only minor battles compared to the war against the whole bodily system. This is where the real violence and hatred starts. The bitch wants to be fat, you see. And THIS WILL NOT DO. Now, I keep a pretty tight rein on the fat and cellulite rebellion by eating real food and exercising. But here's my latest thing: A yearly 'cleansing' to re-start the old digestive system, and clear out old rubbish. Since spring is coming, in addition to another ban on coffee, and a vast reduction in alcohol (wine on the weekends is fine. Fuck off - IT IS.), I'm taking this shit here:

You guys. There is stuff coming out of me that has probably been there since the 70's. Too much information? Tough. You guys don't come here for enlightenment and high art. (Do you?) But I have to say - for women of a certain age who have that midriff paunch that doesn't seem to go away with diet and exercise, this is supposed to help start the process of eliminating the garbage that's holding things up. And by things I mean the clutter and paste that's been gathering in your intestines and colon walls because of all the processed foods and chemicals you ingest.

Blee.

I'm on day 4 of a 7-day process. No HUGE reduction in midriff yet. But I did eat pizza last night, so that was a step in the wrong direction. My pants do feel a tad loose, but that could be my imagination. Will let you know. Why am I telling you all this? Because I can. Because if I die, and this blog goes silent for an even longer time, you'll know that it was probably due to an escalation of hostilities between my self and this bitch of a carcass I inhabit.

Aren't you glad you checked in?

In a better mood now, thanks to...

2009-02-13T10:24:00.000-08:00

Kingsford Goes to the Beach - Watch more amazing videos here

WANT.