3rd leg
Wherefore art thou?

Friday, February 14, 2003



Here’s my dilemma. About a week ago I bought a Valentine for someone. See I know from years of experience that there is already a crap offering of Valentines suitable for a guy to give to a gal. About 1/8 of the total number of cards that a female has to choose from. And obviously the closer to Valentine’s Day one gets, the crappier the selection becomes. But not only is there less to choose from, there’s also a surge of male shoppers the day of, and the couple of days immediately preceding V-Day. Shoppers who’d rather be anywhere else. Shoppers who are just now realizing they should have visited their local gift card shop last week, and they could’ve avoided this painful experience.


My problem is even though I purchased a card last week, I’ve somehow misplaced it. I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done with it. Yes I've looked there. I've looked everywhere. So, I’m thinking this should be a ‘It’s the thought that counts’ situation, rather than subjecting myself to the horrors and long-lines that await me at Hallmark today. It’s not like I was relying solely on the card to serve as proof of my sweet, soft and tender side. I mean there’s dinner plans, and an evening of theatre that have already been taken care of. But knowing girls the way I do, I’ve got a sinking feeling that it’s the lack of a card that may be remembered on this day, more than anything else.

Like Eminem says, "chickens they come go." That’s right, you heard correctly. FM Eminem says ‘chicken’ instead of ‘bitch’. Or even instead of the muted delay you normally hear when an R-rated song attempts to crossover to radio. Like Puddle of Mudd’s "She Fukn Hates Me". I don’t hear them recording a version that’s all ‘She Really Hates Me’ or ‘Yea she sorta hates me, la la la la.’ Seriously why do I even bother with FM??? Oh right, it’s because even though I refuse to buy Justified, I can’t get enough of ‘Cry Me a River’, especially Timbaland’s drop of "The damage is done so I guess I’ll be leavin’." Repeat. Speaking of crying me a river, memo to you left-coast bloggers, it’s raining in Cali. We get it. Get over it.

Where was I? So yea, I’m thinking that one Valentine per season is plenty, whether it actually gets delivered or not. Nevermind that practically every day is like Valentine’s Day when you’re with a guy like me. (Pause for you to gag or roll eyes). Seriously, Valentine’s Day shouldn’t be about bribing 24 hours of affection from someone with an annual, predictable offering of a Shoebox greeting, a box of chocolates and a dozen roses. It should be about spontaneity. As in guess what? It’s Valentine’s Day, so I didn’t get you a card! Are your surprised?


But most importantly, Valentine’s Day is about Love… So whether you prefer Courtney, Jennifer Hewitt, or Davis III-----hopefully you’ll be understanding if your special someone falls a little short of the mark this year. Especially if that special someone is made of snips, and snails, and puppy dog tails.




How Ya Like Me Now?

Wednesday, February 12, 2003


I’ve never let myself get too worked up about what others think about me. I learned long ago that you’re never going to please everyone, so you might as well do what you want and let everyone else deal with it. What I really don’t get worked up about is the opinions of people whom I don’t really know that well, or whom I’ve never met.

But while I don’t get worked up, I’m certainly interested and intrigued, and my eyes and ears are always open. Which brings us to today’s topic.

I’m appreciative of anyone who thinks enough of this little slice of blog heaven to link me on their own site. And many of my favorite bloggers like Evan Ames, LA, Fat Sarah, Moxie, Mad Pony, Hosemonster and Tony Pierce have done just that. But others have taken it a bit further and attempted to categorize me, which allows me to read much more in to their intentions and opinions of yours truly.

McNally lists this as "a cool blog" and Joe’s got it as a "good site". Cool and good, words I’m pretty familiar with and accustomed to having thrown my way.

Then there’s a group who’ve taken their link categories to an even higher and more specialized level. The Ward thinks I’m Electric Kool-Aid. Again the word Kool which I can live with. Which brings me to Kool Keith who has me as a ‘rulon obliterator’. And even though I’m not a Trekkie, I’m pretty sure this is a very nice compliment. Then there’s Meesh, who may very well be trapped under an avalanche, but she’s hot and she’s got me as the only male in ‘The Crib’. Me and four chicks, I can always live with odds like that.

But if I was the kind of guy to let myself get worked up about these things, this is where I might begin to take exception. Dan the Goose classifies me in the ‘Rogue Squadron’. Which would be alright, except I’m pretty sure that at one point I was ‘Rebel Scum’. So I’ve either been passed or dropped. And looking at some of the names and products within ‘Rebel Scum’, I’ll admit that I do feel a little slighted. Especially when it was I who suggested, nay demanded, that Sarah Crabtree be given ‘Queen Amidala’ status. Did I get any credit for this suave little move that no doubt at least earned Dan a peck on the cheek? No. Whatever. I know how guys can be when they’re swooning, and I shouldn’t think that a Goose would be any different.

Then there’s Orby. Orby’s got me as an ‘X-Men’. As a whole the X-Men are of course mutants with pretty amazing powers. They’re also very misunderstood, and even a little creepy for most of the general public. Wolverine’s the exception, he’s a badass with killer sideburns and a quick temper. I could live with Gambit too. But for all I know I’m freakin’ Nightcrawler or Rogue. Unacceptable. Especially when you consider that Orby also has ‘Top Gun’ and ‘Oceans Eleven’ categories. I can barely leave the house without someone calling me Slider or Paly, but that’s alright. I can be content with my admantium.

If you’ve noticed, unless you’re a chick, you sorta get lumped in to the same category here. That’s mainly because I don’t play favorites with the guys in my life. If we’re down, than we’re down and that’s all there is to it. And the term ‘little boys’ only assumes that although these bloggin’ dudes are all cool and have entertaining things to say, I’m fairly certain that they’re not as ‘big’ as me. And now they’ve got company. Because I’m throwin’ TabascoGuy in the mix. And if I’m not above ‘green’ or ‘red’ status by the end of this month at his site, we’re gonna have a problem. I’m thinkin’ ‘cayenne’ or ‘habanero’.

That’s because when Nelly comes over he’s always bitchin’ about how warm I keep it, Emeril starts sweatin’ when I’m workin’ my magic in the kitchen, and the Hooters girls know that 3-Mile is just a thang on a chicken wang to me.

Lesson? Think before you link.



F-ing Fox!

Tuesday, February 11, 2003


That was quite possibly the biggest waste of an hour of my life... I'd say there was maybe 10 minutes of new footage after the extended introduction and hazy flashbacks from last night's Joe Millionaire.

But we did get plenty of Paul the Butler, so we've got that goin' for us... And he did promise a twist. I'm giddy with anticipation. In fact just like Paul, I'm going to drink nothing but cognac for the next 6 days. And I'll have my fingers crossed that Evan picks Sarah. And that the twist is Sarah has to tell Evan that she gets turned on by getting her feet dirty and then being tied up.


Toga! Toga!

Monday, February 10, 2003


So this weekend I found myself at what I call ‘an upscale sports bar’. Lots of TVs, brass, hardwood, mouthwash dispensers in the restroom (yep), and pool tables. It had been awhile since I’d played pool, but it’d been even longer since I played pool sober (I was drivin’).

Since I expected to be a little rusty, I was pleasantly surprised as I transformed in to Vince from The Color of Money, but without the bad hair and tight T-shirt bearing my own name.

Even more impressive were the distractions I had to overcome. In addition to every single sporting event in process being televised, several monitors also displayed music videos in synch with the soundsystem. Not once but twice I found myself lining up a shot, with a gyrating Kylie Minogue just above my eyeline. Even worse was the group playing next to us.

If they were 21, they weren’t a day over. But there was this young cutie with a knee length, form fitting grey skirt, mid-calf length black boots, and a sexy (but classy) little black top. I could never be exactly sure if she was attempting to initiate eye contact, or if she was willing to reciprocate, but that didn’t stop me from continuing to point myself in her direction. It didn’t help matters that I was unable to identify any panty lines, which is normally just enough to push me over the edge.

But, I persevered and shot the best pool of my life. And left without saying hello or goodbye to the cutie, namely because she was with two guys and I wasn’t in the mood to start any unnecessary trouble. Even though I overheard her ask one of the guys where Duke University was located----a topic very near and dear to my heart.

I guess the lesson to be learned here is if you want to get over on me in pool, you better hope I’m drinking. Or maybe the lesson is something about mind over matter. Or maybe that Kylie would be sexier if she was a little tanner, and didn’t have so many teeth. Or maybe it’s all really a lesson about finding good fortune when you least expect it.

Like when Orby Online puts up photos of Ali. The Orby guys as you should all know by now, are just normal college boys next door who happen to attend Cal-Davis. Yes that Cal-Davis, the same college that featured MTV’s Sorority Life, though as far as I can tell they never talk about any of the horrific Sigma girls (even though I wish they would). But that’s O.K., cuz there’s Ali. Now normally red-heads are headturners for me, in that they make me want to turn my head in the opposite direction. Nicole Kidman is the only exception I can think of, and that could be due to her sexy accent. But there’s something about Ali. Maybe it’s the little gleam in her eye that says, "Of all my friends---I’m the sexy one."

I like that the Orby guys have friends who happen to be girls. If it’s a similar situation than what I lived through as a young college guy, everyone at some point ends up dating, err shagging each other and it’s sorta like a commune of sorts. Except with more drama and more fights. Now that I think about it, I quickly grew tired of that scene. The girls who I once thought were fun and cool, and ‘one of the fellas’, I started calling The Furniture. As in they were always freakin’ there, but didn’t pay the rent.

The thing is I’d never date/shag one of my boys’ exes. And on the flip, I’ve never had a successful relationship with an ex. If they say let’s just be friends, I say fuck it let’s be enemies. Which is all to say, that hopefully the Orby clan lives happily ever after.




And hopefully there’s another toga party in the very near future…




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