Woof Sticks

I’ve decided I need a lint catcher for all the middling little things that tumble through my brain during the course of the day. Since I already have the icon, I think I’ll cobble them together on occassion and call them Woof Sticks. Some examples:

This morning at about 10:20, somebody *somewhere* in our building was baking chocolate chip cookies. Of this I am convinced, even if it is an impossibility.

I’m not a huge fan of this Bronson Arroyo trade. I liked the guy, not only as a personality, but as a pitcher. A quality pitcher is always hard to come by, let alone somebody who is as versatile as BroYo was. I know the Sox feel they were “overloaded” with starters, what with 7 absolute candidates for the rotation (Schilling, Beckett, Wakefield, Wells, Clement, Arroyo, Papelbon), 2 guys in waiting at Pawtucket (Lester, Dinardo), and the potential spectre of Roger Clemens hovering around, but I still don’t think you deal any of them for something as superfluous as a homer hitting slug who strikes out a lot. On the plus side, I like the idea of having an outfield that consists of a guy named Wily Mo Pena playing next to a guy named Coco Crisp. As Jack Horner would say, “those are great names”.

Canada Dry is by far the best brand of ginger ale on the market. Schweppes can’t hold a candle to it.

The most useless question in the world may very well be, “how was your weekend?”. I get asked this all day long, and yet even though I had a tremendous weekend, I’m not bloody likely to tell anybody at work about it. I mean, I ain’t got the time, and truth of the matter is, they don’t really care. It’s just something to say when we meet in the hallway.

For all my slacking prowess here at work, 28bytes puts me to shame with his ability to surf the web. He finds great links in some of the damndest places. I am officially jealous.

I’m torn on whether or not to get a haircut. I made the decision a couple of months ago to let my hair grow out, because I had never really done so. I actually got quite a few compliments when I did so, but I had to get a trim prior to WUD. Now I’m left with hair that is bushy, but not exactly long. So do I let it grow out from here, hoping the length will eventually catch up to the thickness? Or do I get a cut back to the old days and start all over. I’m leaning towards “B”. Either way I plan on growing it out in the fall so I can officially be a pretentious looking hippy director. Booyah!

Having re-watched X-Men 2 last night, I need to re-assert my position of last week that I hate how Hollywood makes life seem too clean. Comic books were always drawn to try and be a little dirty, yet in the film versions, all the metal is shiny and there’s never any wear-and-tear on stuff. This bugs me. Here’s hoping V For Vendetta is different. It certainly looks dark, I’ll give it that.

It’s been almost four weeks since I’ve been to The Pub for karaoke. I’m starting to feel the pains of withdrawal.

One sign that the life I live is not nearly as difficult as I sometimes make it appear: my co-worker in the cube adjacent to mine was carrying on a phone conversation earlier today that included the line, “yeah, she’s still under house arrest, but not for much longer”, delivered in a ho-hum matter-of-fact tone. Yikes.

I got my first official Board of Directors related email in regards to Acme today. I guess there’s no turning back.

It occurred to me yesterday while watching American Splendor that I somewhat resemble Paul Giamatti (for starters, neither one of us has a discernable jaw line). Which is all well and good, as he’s one of my favorite actors, but it makes me wonder if people might secretly be calling be “Pig Vomit” behind my back.

During a rather lengthy email volley regarding exactly what we’re all going to wear to the IRNE’s next Monday, the Five Women cast introduced me to a fashion term with which I had zero familiarity. Thanks to them, I now know what “bootie cuttahs” are. So thanks for that.

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