A description of my post.

A description of my post.

A description of my post.

It's hard to believe how much difference an hour makes. I speak of the one hour difference between the Eastern and Central time zone. For example, last night, I picked up Mrs. theskinnyonbenny from her work stuff at 5:00. We went back to the condo, let her change clothes, walked into the tiny downtown, picked a restuarant, ate, had a couple of drinks, and walked back home.

This week and next, we're in Athens, Georgia. Mrs. theskinnyonbenny is here for her work, so we packed up the whole family human members of our family and moved into a condo downtown. We're just off the UGA campus, and I've always liked checking out other college campuses when I travel. I haven't had a chance to explore yet, but there's not doubt that I'll become quite familiar with the layout.

I'm not in the habit of using this blog to repeat stories that get emailed from person to person to persona million times, but this one is a) true, and b) made me laugh out loud when I saw the choppy little animated gif video of it.

Whatever fairy dust or pixie magic floated through the New Orleans Saints season last year has officially been dissipated by the heat and rain of a Louisiana summer. For the second year in a row, I had the fortune of attending the Monday night home opener. If you care, you've already seen the highlights and heard or read about what happened on the field.

If I had no life, I would drive to Jena, Louisiana today to get a gander at the 50-60,000 expected protesters in a town of 3000. It's got to be absolute bedlam -- the kind of thing you read about, but not the kind of thing you ever see. I'd love to read a real report of it, rather than just get the spin from the news network.

Once this week and once last week, I had a craving for Grade E meat. That is to say, I was hungry for some Taco Bell.

I was driving down my street this morning, and I passed a crew from a tree service grinding an enormous stump out of the ground in someone's front yard. I had the top down on my Jeep, and the smell of the wood being ground to bits reminded me of a story. My Uncle Johnny and Aunt Helen live in an old house on a big lot with plenty of trees. Once upon a time, it was out in the sticks, but the town has grown up around them, and they're now in an old house on a big, tree-lined lot, surrounded by strip malls and pharmacies.

I was cleaning the kitchen last night while listening to a radio show. As the show came back from break, they played that one chord that everyone can immediately identify as the first note of The Beatles' Hard Days Night. This single bit of music in a universe of unintelligible talk immediately caught Vanya's attention. He stopped what he was doing, looked toward the source of the music, and prepared himself to jam a little bit if the music was to continue.

I hereby declare the end of my contest, with Shelly as the winner (and only participant). It might have been easy to beat Shelly. You didn't actually have to be mad about whatever your topic -- getting The Advocate to publish a bogus rant would have been twice as much fun. So you could have come up with anything.