I'm the only person that I know anymore who's truly a fan of professional cycling. I used to have a couple of buddies at work who kept up with it, but no more. It's just me spending my July evenings alone with Paul Sherwin and Phil Liggit on OLN.

You know how in Peanuts, a really angry person would be represented by a sour face and a big bunch of scribble right over their head? Well that's how Mrs. theskinnyonbenny looked yesterday morning. It started at 3:30 in the morning. For some reason, I was awake, watching a show about crocodiles on the National Geographic channel. To my great surprise, Mrs. theskinnyonbenny bolted out of the bedroom angry enough to be fitted for a straight jacket.

This little thing is my new nephew, born a couple of weeks back. The photo came to me with the following stream of consciousness:

There was a close-to-home episode of Dirty Jobs that premiered last week. The episode is titled "Skull Cleaner," but before we got to the stripping of skin, tendons, and brains from animal skulls, the host (Mike) went to a couple of those coon-ass meat shops to learn how to cook Louisiana-style.

I'm not gonna lie. I'm tired. I've been working long days, and then spending as much awake time as I can trying to enjoy Waikiki. In other words, I've pretty much kept up the routine that I described in the last post, but I am indeed ready to go home. There are a few moderately amusing things from the office this week.

It's an odd thing to be sent to Hawaii on a business trip. Of course, there's the excitement that you're going to such an awesome destination, but then again, you're being sent away for business, so you spend your days working while you know that all of your co-guests at the hotel are swimming, taking in sights, and doing generally fun vacation things. You get back to the hotel at 6:00 pm, just in time to see all of the beautiful tan people head in to wash the salt and sand out of their cracks and to hit the nightlife. You, on the other hand, have time for a swim, a bite, and a relatively early bed time.

There's an announcement today that the final eight episodes of The Sopranos on HBO are postponed until March. We Sopranos fans are a patient group. With the end of that series, Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm become the only two series for which I would be willing to subscribe. (I like Big Love too, but wouldn't pay extra just to see it.) But it would be difficult to justify the monthly charge just on the strength of a couple of half-hour comedies.

Probably the funniest thing about my mom is how she pronounces "potato." She changes every single sound of that first syllable, and comes up with a word pronounced roughly like "buh-TA-tuh." This led to hundreds of conversations in my life that went something like this....

Twice on the Fourth of July, I got called a big fatty. The first time, I was handling my gut -- grabbing handfuls and jiggling it up and down while seated. Putting this in writing makes me realize that it's odd behavior, but I'm sure it was to make some point or other. Amanda asked, "Goodness, you aren't riding your bike any more?"

I feel bad for little Blossom. Last night, Lili detected some creature in one of our bushes, and did her beagle bark (BARROOOOOOOOOOO!!!) for about fifteen minutes. I dragged her into the house, but she just went back out the door and started up again. Blossom is her faithful sidekick, and hung out outside with the crazy beagle.

Last Friday evening, I dropped Mrs. theskinnyonbenny off at the airport. A quick "be careful, love you, yada yada," and I peeled out of the airport loading lane, free for a day and a half to myself.

I got to thinking about Three's Company today. And I've decided that a big part of why it's no big deal for people of my generation to have opposite-sex roommates is that our parents spent so much time in 1979 defending Jack's right to cohabitate with Janet and Chrissy. I know this sounds ludicrous, but I remember that it really was a controversy when that show was a prime-time series.