Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Colbert pushes the envelope
. . . but no more of a push than the rather forceful kick that the Summer’s Eve douche people (douche-people?) gave that poor envelope. Here’s Stephen holding forth on feminine hygiene, dick scrub, and vaginal puppetry.
Various and sundry:
* I am trying to install World of Warcraft to our bedroom computer. That’s the one that I’m supposed to be using for writing. If I start using this computer for WoW, I’ll be closer to Karen but I will have less face time with my son, who hangs out on the other side of the house in that computer room. (We collect computers the way some people collect cars.) And in either circumstance, I won’t be writing.
* Jake and I went to a local Thai restaurant that aspires to the Pacific Rim fusion thing. I should have been more worried when the hostess repeated our order back, and then the sushi chef did the same, while arguing with the hostess that she always got things wrong. I told the sushi chef twice that I wanted the various items as nigiri, not sashimi (nigiri = on rice, Sis), and he still screwed it up. Worse yet was Jake’s noodle dish, which sounded Asian from the description, but had some sort of gummy cheese thing going on that made the noodles stick together. He soldiered on and ate a few mouthfuls of it. I tried it, too; I figure the dish had to have been four or five thousand calories. Flavor, not bad; texture, appalling.
* There is something deeply wrong with this new computer’s keyboard design. I’ve lost track of how many times my fingers have all shifted over one key, and then I’m typing honnrtodj/ (that’s “gibberish” in one-key-over code).
* It’s been a nice, long, pleasant nine days off from call, but tomorrow I’m back on again. And if my partner’s complaints are any way to judge the current climate, things are hopping.
* I bought a couple of hamsters today. They’re working hamsters, but scrub your mind of those dirty thoughts. To give you a clue as to their purpose, I’ve named the male Stud Muffin, and the female, Mother of All Hamsters. The male was the one getting beaten on by all the other male hamsters in the cage; I felt a wave of sympathy for him, and decided that I would answer his prayers and transport him to a world where he had ready access to food, water, and a receptive female. And how does he repay me? I put him into his new cage several hours ago, and he has remained in the same spot ever since. Yes, I somehow purchased the pet store’s only catatonic hamster.
D.
I would say their days are numbered, but they don’t have much competition. And they do have nice decor.
*
Downeast Magazine is publishing a novel in blog form on it’s website. A new genre? The Blovel?
http://www.downeast.com/island-wars/2011/august/diction-grand-island