two dolla

Best mail day ever. Section 218 is not quite nosebleed, but does it matter? I’ll be there, along with one lucky guest, and that’s all that matters. I’d be a very happy camper with a division win, but I’ll gladly take a wild card, too. Let’s go Twins!
You want Friday Shuffle action? No problem!

1. City Love - John Mayer (whose new album I should buy)
2. It’s Raining on Prom Night - Cindy Bullens (yes, from the Grease soundtrack)
3. When I Look to the Sky - Train (one of my all-time favorites)
4. Whip It - Devo
5. This Time - 3 Doors Down
6. Dear Ben - Jennifer Lopez (she’s got to regret this song)
7. Landslide - Fleetwood Mac
8. My Girl - Jon Peter Lewis (from American Idol 3)
9. If I Should Fall Behind - Faith Hill
10. I Hope - Dixie Chicks

With absolutely no plans at all that I can share here, it’s off to the weekend I go!

There’s a helicopter flying very low over my office right now. I can only assume they’re trying to track me. Because I’m radioactive for the next day and a half!

I had my bone scan this morning to try and figure out what may be or may have been wrong with my foot. The technician assured me that he’s never seen anyone have an adverse reaction to the radioactive liquid he injected into my arm.

I said, “Oh, okay”, because I wasn’t really worried.

“You have like a 1 in 40 million chance of having a bad reaction,” he reassured me.

Knowing that I couldn’t let this one go with the polite head nod that I’ve mastered so well, I responded with “So, you’re telling me there’s a chance!”

Then it became apparent that Mike the Nuclear Medicine Technician, had absolutely no sense of humor and no knowledge of Jim Carrey movies. I figured those things were mandatory in medical school, but I could be wrong.

I’m hoping I have superpowers from the radioactive juice that is pumping throughout my body, but I’m not quite sure how to test those out.

I find out the resutls of said bone scan on Wednesday. Almost six weeks after the injury happened. You know, giving it plenty of time for it to heal on its own.

The other day, I decided to do an art project. I shared it with the folks at Vox and felt it only appropriate to share with all of you, too.

Don’t worry. I’m not sure why I didn’t become an arteest either.

I went to go see The Black Dahlia last night.

We did some shopping at Macy’s (ha.) and some dinner and drinks at Ruby Tuesday before our 9:40 movie start time. Since our shopping trip was a miserable failure, much like Josh Hartnett’s acting abilities, we spent a lot of time at Ruby Tuesday. We watched the Twins beat the pants off the Red Sox and celebrated by drinking.

It’s based off the novel of the same name that was inspired by “California’s most famous unsolved mystery”. It’s set in the 40’s and filmed that way. The type of cinematography that was used would have been awesome with really strong actors. i.e. NOT JOSH HARTNETT.

I fell asleep midway through the movie. When I woke up, two girls were going at it with a dildo. You can im agine my confusion. I’m not sure why or what led up to that, but apparently, there was nothing even remotely close to that in the book.

Stephanie explained the differences between the book and the movie to me afterwards. I think she may have been smoking from the ears due to how irate she was with the results.

The only saving grace to the movie? Apparently at this theater, it’s only $6 to go on a weeknight.

Never will I go see a movie that involves Josh Hartnett again, unless it’s a silent film where he wears a bag over his head. I can’t stand his perpetual forlorn look for a two hour movie, and really? That’s the only look he has.

One day, I want to get a little sidebar blog action, much like Jodi, so I can have one sentence posts that really aren’t worthy of being their own main post. If that makes sense.

Here are some links that I’ve been obsessing over lately:

• Perez Hilton’s gossip site. I can’t help it. I’m a fiend for Hollywood gossip.
• 2addicted.com’s Letters game - I think Jenni sent this to me and I hate her for it.
• Gate1 Travel’s cruise selection - the blame on this ones goes to Jenni, too. .
• Wikipedia - I know this is old, but I just recently started actively using it. In the past two days, I’ve read extensively about Turf Toe and the Madden curse.
• Yahoo’s Pro Football Pick’em - I’m in two leagues and failing miserably. Like last place miserably. In my office pools, though, I only missed two games this week.
• Epodiatry.com - I’m trying to self diagnose my foot issue, so I don’t have to have a bone scan Thursday, with a follow up next Wednesday, and who knows what after that.

You know how I joke around about how Little Gay Riley Pants might be, well, gay?

Science says it could happen.

There’s his loves for sweaters, his penchant for pretty bandanas, the way he likes to hold hands when I get home from work, and even the he only humps other male dogs, so I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that it could be true. And quite honestly, I’ve always told him I could love him regardless of the sex of dogs he chooses to mount.

And I also want to go to the zoo in Central Park and see Roy and Silo as the ignore all of the female penguins.

I’m probably going to take my gay dog outside now. He’ll squat when he pees and then we’ll come upstairs and he’ll get comfortable on his our 300-thread count sheets before we go to sleep watching Golden Girls. What? Straight dogs do that, too!

I went to go see The Last Kiss this weekend. I was craving nachos, and figured the only way to fulfill that craving was to go to the movies and have some. Here’s how I like to go see a movie - just show up at the theater and see whatever is playing next. It’s fun that way.

I was a pretty big fan of Garden State when it came out, but more because of the writing than of Zach Braff’s acting. But with The Last Kiss, I guess it was different.

Zach Braff? He’s hilarious. I kind of want to hang out with him, almost as much as I want to hang out with Justin Timberlake, but with less dancing and bringing sexy back, and more just hanging out.

A guy I work with, who also happens to be a manager now, is buddies with Eric Olsen, who plays Kenny in the movie. They went to high school together and my co-worker went to CA last winter for a week to hang out with him. We also talk about Eric’s upcoming movies and what types of roles he’s busy trying to get. It was a bit odd this morning to email my co-worker, letting him know I saw his buddy’s movie over the weekend. I left out the part in my email about seeing his bare ass and also seeing him do the deed on a white bear skin rug.

In any case, the movie was funny and cute, and it was sad and heartbreaking. My feelings towards the main characater (Zach Braff, of course) ranged from wanting to hang out with him to wanting to hit him in the head with a 2×4.

I thought it was a really good movie. The people next to me couldn’t really vouch for the quality of the movie, but I’m sure they knew how many fillings each of them had.

In my multitude of blogging reading this morning, I found the policy on bringing sexy back. And it made me laugh a lot.

It will come as no surprise that I am overwhelmingly obsessed with Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack. I downloaded the album (legally), but have yet to get past that song.

Yeah.

Yesterday marked one year since I rode from Jordan, MN with a little fat puppy on my lap, trying to come up with a name that fit his personality. While he’d stolen my heart a few weeks before I brought him, it wasn’t until a few days later that the name Riley came to mind and it fit him like a glove.

Since then, I’ve learned that he can only sleep 10 hours without peeing, and he may forget that after a really good night’s sleep. My concern about eating up an entire loaf of bread before it goes bad usually disappears when I’m in the shower and he pulls half a loaf down off the counter to eat for himself. You’d think I’d remember to keep it on top of the ‘fridge, but after three times (the 3rd being today), I guess I still haven’t learned.

I’ve turned into one of the crazy people that talks and, uh, sings to their pet, with absolutely no regard of who may hear what I’m saying or in what self-amusing voice I might happen to be using at a time.

He’s always one of the fastest dogs at the dog park and he can jump high enough that his head is level to mine. It usually takes him about five days to chew through a rawhide bone, but he’ll never dream of hurting any of his overly girly stuffed animals.

While there has been a lot of change in my life over the past year, he’s definitely been the biggest highlight of them all.

I wanted to post some new pictures, but I keep getting some weird I/O error message. Instead, you get the link to his set on Flickr and a few pictures from the beginning in the extended entry.

Read the rest of this entry »

One of the best things about my cousin having a blog, aside from pictures and stories of the best second-cousin in the world, is that I get to read stories about myself that I might not necessarily remember, because I was either A) too young or B) don’t have the memory she has.

Today was one of my favorite stories. It’s one of those things that I think I may remember, but I also think it could be because the story gets told on a regular basis. I can’t say my love for all things flaming has faded, but I will say I’m more careful about whose head I may cover in a sweet ball of fire.

From the cousin today: I’ve got to interject right here, because I want to tell you my all-time favorite camping story, but it doesn’t fit anywhere else in my story so I’m going to drop it here. We were on a big family camping trip. My granny had this bouffant hairdo - how she got hair that big in the great outdoors, I have no idea. The Cuz (that’s me) was a wee one who was probably too young to be given a marshmallow on a sharp stick and instructions to stick the whole rig into the campfire, but what the hell did we know? When she pulled that black, flaming marshmallow from the fire, she went looking for someone to remove it for her and plop! The whole mass of flaming goo landed in Granny’s ‘do. I think Jesus’ love was the only thing that protected my granny from the potentially lethal combination of fire and half a jar of Dippity Do.

I really miss our family camping trips that involved my arthritic grandma’s hair catching on fire due to wreckless fire-handling abilities. At least I didn’t try touching the hot marshmallow myself, right?