yes, sometimes my lyrics are sexist
but you lovely bitches and ho’s should know, I’m tryin’ to correct this.

Flight of the Conchords new season starts on January 18.

Flight of the Conchords new season starts on January 18. That gives you two whole months to subscribe to HBO if you don’t have it already.

There’s a wall clock hanging in our downstairs bathroom. For probably two years, the battery has been dead, and it’s stuck on 5:15. But that doesn’t stop me from looking up there to check the time. I probably check the time on that clock four times a week.

Sometimes, my brain shouts “5:15!” as my head is still swiveling toward the clock. Sometimes — especially if I’m groggy — I still have to look at the clock and wonder, “What time is it? Shit, I would swear that it was just 7:30. I don’t under… Ohhhhh, yeah.”

Vanya talks in full sentences all of the time now, but he sometimes gets his word order wrong. Like last week, when he wanted help reaching something, and he called his Mama for help. I was in the kitchen (close to where he was), so I offered to get it. He pointed back to the stove and told me, “Not you Papa! Go back to supper cooking!” Must have been hungry.

The funnier directive was a day or two later in the bathroom with the 5:15. He pointed at the toilet and said, “Sit down Papa. Read paper!”

You know that bit on Dave Chapelle’s show where he was a blind guy, but also a racist because being blind, he didn’t know he was black?

I think Blossom might have something similar going on. I think she doesn’t like dogs, and she’s so stupid, she doesn’t realize that she is a dog. Mrs. theskinnyonbenny took the dogs to the dog park, and she wouldn’t get out of the car. She just sat and waited while Lily sniffed around the park.

And when we encounter dogs on our walk. Lily wants to sniff butts, but she finds a way to stay several dog lengths away from all of that butt-sniffing. Even with her neck on a leash and her butt four feet from her head. It’s quite a talent, it is.

77 Total yards.
14 minute and change time of possession.

That’s probably the most pathetic offensive numbers I’ve ever seen.

Does anyone remember a game where the Saints only had the ball for 14 minutes? Even in the heyday of thir awfulness?

While we’re poking around that site, Russell’s player profile says that he played his college ball at Louisiana State. To me, if you’re a reporter, web site, or broadcaster, and you call LSU “Louisiana State,” you should lose your privledges for covering college sports. Same goes if you call Ole Miss “University of Mississippi.”

Then, they took a poll by text message. Since I was sitting at the computer anyway, I sent a text in.

You’ll have to find this song somewhere else. Your browswer won’t allow embedded media. Sorry.

It’s hard to understand their read. It says, “I’ve been married 12 years. My Basset Hound gets her tongue in my mouth more often that my wife does.”

I enjoyed the appreciation that I got in response to my own kissing experience.

Notice that I didn’t actually answer the question at all. It might be that Blossom sneaks that tongue in there twice a day, and Mrs. theskinnyonbenny isn’t quite as sneaky. Or, I could be going on a decade just like that radio host.

And we’ll just leave that little bit of mystery out there for you to ponder.

But here’s the thing. I took this picture at the corner of Third and Main. Even if you don’t know Baton Rouge at all, you can tell by the names of the streets that this is a pretty central and well traveled part of town. In fact, in any given city, you don’t get more central to downtown than the intersections of Third and Main.

Our office is in a neighborhood where they haven’t really made a pass at all. A couple residents called and complained, and their piles are gone, but there is still a ton of debris over there. This prompted the following post on the neighborhood’s message board.

From: Beauregard@googlegroups.com [mailto:Beauregard@googlegroups.com]
On Behalf Of Sara
Sent: Wednesday, October 15, 2008 6:21 PM
To: Beauregard@googlegroups.com
Subject: Re: Debris removal

Top Ten Reasons why the mountain of debris in front of your home or
office in Beauregard Town has not been picked up…according to an
operator at Ceres:

10.Afraid of damaging historic wayfinding signage
9. Everybody seems to be home in the middle of the day
8. Scared of wild dogs
7. Most piles have become home to a litter of kittens
6. Some piles of debris are missing kitchen sink
5. Thought Beauregard Town had seceded to France
4. All debris piles have a Crepe Myrtle growing in the middle
3. Too many liberal democrats
2. Streets too narrow and only go one way
And the Number One reason your debris has not been picked up…
Because they said on the news we were done!

For more reasons, call 1-866-708-2609

If you feel like it, call that number and ask them to go ahead and make a pass down France St.

Sent: Thursday, September 11, 2008 9:01:50 A.M.
To: rhodes22-list@rhodes22.org
Subject: [Rhodes22-list] Brad, now my turn:

Brad,

now my turn: tell me how she differs from George.

something? - anything?

ss

Sent: Thursday, September 11, 2008 9:18 AM
To: rhodes22-list@rhodes22.org
Subject: Re: [Rhodes22-list] Brad, now my turn:

Stan,
In case your eyeglasses are a little foggy this morning, she has cute perky
breasts.

Rummy

Shelly has been sending me the occasional link from overheardinnewyork.com. This one came with a comment.

This reminded me of Stacie and the “no meat for the brown dog incident”

From: “Williams, Shelly”
Date: Tue, 2 Sep 2008 17:23:43 -0400
To:
Subject: Overheard in New York

California’s Almost Far Enough

Hippie woman: Ma’am, what did you just feed my dog?
Elderly woman: A treat.
Hippie woman: What was it? Was it meat?
Elderly woman: Well, not really, it was a sausage.
Hippie woman: What is wrong with you?! My dog is a vegetarian! What if he had a food allergy?!
Elderly woman: Right. Go away.

–Thompson Square Park Dog Run

I had my own overheardinnewyork moment when we were there a couple of weekends ago.

Hipster dude on cell phone: First you said 30 days. Then you said two months. I would fuck you right now!

– Park Avenue South

It’s not really that funny on its own, but it would definitely make the site if I wasn’t too lazy to send it in.

You might be wondering about Stacie’s “incident” that Shelly references. First of all, “The brown dog” was Jeeves, who was often left out of play by Lili, Shelly’s two dogs, and Staicie’s other dog, who all happened to share a mainly black and white color scheme. We postulated that he was an ethnic outcast — a dog version of a Mexican kid that the others didn’t want to play with. And I started calling him “Heeves,” because that’s how a Mexican might pronounce it if they tried to sound it out.

On to the incident. Picture a tailgate party at LSU. We’re under a goup of tents, and there are ten thousand other people within reach.

Stacie spies some woman giving her dogs some treats. She jumps out of her chair like someone had just set her ass on fire and sprinted full-bore toward the nice lady.

As she sprinted, she was screaming like a maniac. “NO MEAT FOR THE BROWN DOG! NO MEAT FOR THE BROWN DOG!”

Also, her hair turned into snakes.

This past weekend, we went on a little excursion to New York. We ate pretty good, drank in some cool bars, walked up and down the Avenues people watching and shopping. Monday evening, we met several other people at Flatiron Lounge.

Flatiron is the bar of a famous bartender. Perhaps you didn’t know that there are famous bartenders, but Mrs. theskinnyonbenny can find another extreme coctail-phile and drop names back and forth like you and I might be able to do with N.F.L. quarterbacks. It’s an odd celebrity group to know, but on the upside, I go to big cities, take a cab across town, and pour exotic drinks in my mouth that taste like the gods’ elixers and pack a most pleasant punch.

Anyway, their snack mix included some kind of nut that had been smoked. So toward the end of our stay, I said with much enthusiasm, “I should smoke me some nuts. That would be gooood.”

And then, realizing what I said, I laughed at myself for a half hour straight.

Later, we were waiting for Madonna to start her show at Madison Square Garden, Shelly borrowed my cell phone, and texted everyone we know in common the message, “Will you smoke my nuts?”

A sampling of replies…

Tyler: Sure, if you get me a new job.

Sharples: If you get me drunk first, you betcha!

Craig: I’m not sure if that’s supposed to go to me?

Clay didn’t respond, so Shelly sent one more to him: Shelly’s titties are looking really hot and juicy tonight….

Sounds more like a roast beef po-boy than how I would describe titties, but maybe she was hungry.

Anyway, if you got a wierd text from me on Monday night, that’s what was going on.

The show was really good. It was half-circus, half-concert. I’ve described Madonna in concert before, so there’s no reason to go back through it.

In looking for other good reasons to make fun of me, I had one of the most boneheaded gambling episodes in history this weekend. We do this pool where you have to pick one college football underdog to win outright every weekend. If your pick does pull the upset, you get the number of points by which the other team was favored. I’ve been doing this for a few years, and for the first time in the history of the pool, someone (I) picked a favorite. As if all of a sudden I don’t even understand the game we’re playing.

It bought me no points, but I was the only one to pick a correct winner last weekend.

I took a few pics up there for you to check out too, and I had an Overheard in New York moment too, which I’ll leave for another day.

Go ahead. I dare you.

It can’t be done.

Why don’t you send me an email and wish me a good one.

When we last visited, I was elated to finally be able to move back to my newly air-conditioned house. All is getting back to normal now — the yard is clear of debris, and repairs have been made to the minor damage that we had. Our cable line is still lying on the ground, which means I haven’t had television or high-speed internet at home since labor day (16 days now), but we’re managing to get by.

Now I have to rewind, going back to our Florida trip. We went out there for a wedding in Shelly’s family. During the course of events, I found out that Shelly’s mother checks my site every day. So this post is for her.

Disgusting things notwithstanding it was a good trip. As soon as I get a reliable connection, I’ll post some pictures.

On our way back into Baton Rouge, a week after Gustov, I turned down a main street trying to get home, and a large tree still blocked my passage.

“Shit.” I said this under my breath.

“Shit,” chirped the two-year-old voice from the back seat.

“No, no, no. Don’t say that. Papa shouldn’t have said that. Don’t ever say that word any more.”

And being fussed at, Vanya started wailing. And I had to find my way home through the tree maze with my distraught kid shrieking because I fussed at him for repeating me.