In my secondary-school days, I took one year of French, two years of Spanish, and three years of mostly ecclesiastical Latin. And I swear, I don’t understand women in any of them.
Archive for Ventually
During recent spates of insomnia, I assumed that my circadian rhythms were totally out of whack. I am currently not quite so sleep-deprived, but this old body persists in traveling to the beat of a different drum.
“Was I wrong?” I have been known to ask myself. And more often than I’d like to admit, the answer is “Yes, you were.”
Everything I’ve seen says that this song came out in 2008:
Yet somehow, I get the feeling I’ve seen it all before.
In 2001, the NCAA introduced the play-in game to the Men’s Division I basketball tournament, in which two also-rans would compete for the 64th and last seed, 16th in whatever regional. Though there were now 65 teams involved, there was never an officially designated 65th seed, which is kind of a shame, since “65th seed” packs even more of a rhetorical wallop than “fifth wheel,” my accustomed location in the dating game.
And it’s not like it would hurt the NCAA tournament, which now involves 68 teams.
“I like big brains,” she said, “and I cannot lie.”
Sure you can’t, honey. Sure you can’t.
There’s nothing like the dead of winter to make you feel like you’ve already died. And this January, not even two-thirds over, has been more onerous than usual.
Would Elvis Presley have been as big a star if he’d been named David instead? I suspect he’d end up owning the name; you’d have “Dave” alongside Madonna and Cher and Oprah, and that guy Letterman would be going by his middle name (which is “Michael”). How Elvis Costello fits into this scenario is anyone’s guess.
That said, today Elvis has been gone almost as long as he was here in the first place, which prompts me to a few offhand musings about the King.
In which we attempt to write an article about blowjobs without actually using the term “blowjob.” In fact, we managed to do it without even using the word “penis.”
Did you think 2017 had to be an improvement over 2016? Yeah, so did I. What the hell was I thinking?
Just what in the pluperfect hell have you guys been doing? And why, exactly, should I care?
Normally I don’t notice things like this. But winter, even after you’ve had five dozen of them and more, is full of surprises.
Implausible as it may seem, once in a while the pessimist is wrong. And no one is more surprised by this phenomenon than I am.
The following program is brought to you by Vera, Chuck and Dave. Or maybe not. It might be too soon to tell.
Just to let you know, this has nothing whatever to do with earthquakes.
The weird thing about it is, I don’t think it happened while I was sleeping.
And certainly the dialogue — my half of the dialogue, anyway — rings true.
With all the attention being focused on sexual harassment committed by show-biz types, we’re not hearing so much about Congressmen In Trouble these days. There is, of course, a good reason for that.
Alphabet, you may remember, owns Google, and Google, at least as far as Google is concerned, owns all of us who own a Web site. I may have to obey, but I don’t have to like it.
Oh, yeah? Give me one good reason why I should upgrade to some Newer Products and Services.
There are kids who get on the bus to go to school, and then get on the bus to come back home.
She set her computer on her lap and crossed her legs. For a moment I wondered how she was going to type like that.
“So how do you feel right this minute?” she asked.
Couples tend to be about the same age. Sometimes one is much older than the other; sometimes this is okay, sometimes it isn’t. I’m not entirely sure I understand the fine points of the situation.
You remember Dr Crusher, don’t you? Once upon a time, she found herself alone on the Enterprise, while the universe seemed literally to shrink around her. (If you’re keeping score, and of course you are, this was “Remember Me,” season 4. episode 5, of Star Trek: The Next Generation.)
While my own perhaps-stupidly-expensive car sits in the shop, I’ve been tooling about in a newer perhaps-stupidly-expensive car. And it’s not easy making the adjustment, either.
Uncle Buddy, bless his pea-pickin’ heart, used to say that at least ten months out of the year. And by rights, this ought to be my favorite season of the year. It isn’t, and I don’t know why.
With not much else going on at the moment, I’m offering different, if not necessarily fresh, takes on some recent occurrences, since I don’t have much to say about either Joe Arpaio or Hurricane Harvey. It’s not like I’ve never done this before.
Actually, this particular rhythm has been building in the streets since the 1960s, though not everyone heard the call. Still, if you can’t forget the Motor City, there’s a very good reason why.
Now that I have my own vehicle back, I’m trying to make the adjustments I need to make to avoid running into another wall. Not sure how well this will work, but I should probably consider myself fortunate for figuring some of this stuff out.
In which I press my luck by announcing that for the moment, the worst of my ongoing insomnia seems to have subsided a bit, though I still need all the help I can get.