You don't want a blog like this. You need a blog like this.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Then There's All That

There's a certain freedom to posting on a blog, as opposed to, say, BotF, that seems to be rooted in the knowledge that here I'll only be read by about 4 people (high estimate?) whereas on the fray I'll be read by, say, 11 people. It means I'm free to hit grounders down the line as opposed to swinging for the fences every time.

Still, I miss the attention.

Gradually catching up with Big Brother 8. Danielle is utterly captivating. This season reminds me of Deadwood, were Deadwood staged in a house no one can leave in SoCal and all the characters are not armed (that we know of) and the bad words get bleeped. And people bathe somewhat regularly. Other than that, factoring in all the alcohol, the 2 shows are practically mirror images of one another, were the mirror one of those funhouse mirrors, and the room is dimly lit.

But, yeah, Danielle.

It's really nice to see twiff's and bacon's babies. It makes me happy. I suspect I'll never get married or have children, which is just as well because they're so expensive and needy, and I'm poor and selfish. Me and childlessness will continue to be a good fit.

I've not been lonely very often, and I'm not now. I've almost always preferred my own company to that of others, with a few major exceptions. What I am is indescribably frustrated and discouraged by the-one-that-got-away's disingenuousness and obtuseness. She works now only three days a week in B'ham, invites me over to her hotel room to get high, then proceeds to browbeat me about my drinking. "You know, I'm not going to sit around and watch you drink too much. It's not fair to you or to me. It's really unhealthy. Now finish this bowl I've loaded for you after you've passed me that carton of cigarettes, ASAP." Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks for holding me to higher standards than you hold anyone else to and then not really ever treating me concordantly when I meet those standards.

Say, you two: Remember the privacy fence, that glorious 9-foot wall of empowerment I built last fall? Remember that one poor dog I felt bad for? Well, one of my other neighbors, a truly excellent neighbor who had a 6-foot fence built to block out the ignorant retards, who was trying to socialize that awful dog because she, like me, loves dogs and, unlike me, is a saint, she finally broke down and called animal control because that dog wouldn't get socialized and found a way to get back into her yard and my other great neighbor's yard and bark at them for being in their own yards. Animal control picked it up last night. I expect some sort of dust up.

Which reminds me: I should probably finish my "Michael Vick, Some Final Thoughts" post for BotF. Or not for them. Don't know.

Yep: Worm-burner down the 3rd base line, runner advances. Not bad. Doesn't mean I won't occasionally lean back and turn the hips on a hanging corn-cutter (Iowan for curve ball) out over the plate. I mean, it's me, right?


Keifus said...

Fuck that, dude. I'm blogging for the checkmarks.

(You can get one of those sitemeter thingies to rest your fears. There may be as many as six or seven people reading.)

More on the other stuff. Maybe I'll save it for later, you know, to help the hit count.

august said...


Privacy fence -- one of my favorites of yours. You should post it here.

TV -- ain't got one. False. Have TV, do not have cable, meaning that TV is a device for watching DVD's.

Babies -- good if you can get em. Not that I got one.

The one that got away -- doesn't sound like she's away. Have you tried wearing shoes? For my part, I find it frustrating that I'm not as funny as you are.

I never answered your question about favorite reviewer. Gene Shalitt?

Used to be, whenever I bumped into one of my many neighbors walking my various dogs, I'd think to myself "You're so lucky you don't live in China." If I ever got a dog (not happening), I would name him "Soup." But now, whenever I see a neighborhood pooch, I think to myself "Thank god you're safe from Vick," and resolve to boycott football.

Blogging -- look, it's easy to copy whatever you write to here. Then you'll have it in one place, and while probably right now you have more readers on BOTF, there's a ceiling there. Here, you have tremendous upside potential.

I wish there was a baseball player named switters. I would yell

"Hey, switter switter switter, SWING switter" like Cameron on Ferris Buehler's Day Off.

kol said...

Funny, my husband is desperate for a 9 foot privacy fence--I wouldn't mind it, either, all though I do enjoy watching the church picnics on the lawn beside us (one of those cult o' personality churches where upper middle-class members mix their uneasy good intentions with street drunks and crackheads over the potato salad).

That girl sounds like baaaaaad news--they're usually the most fascinating ones and hardest to disengage from. They're the Hagen Daaz of love; they taste great, are almost impossible to stop consuming, and will ultimately stop your heart.

On this Dog Day Afternoon...

Dawn Coyote said...

I agree with keifus on the sitemeter, august on the potential of your blog, and karen on love.

Your desire for fairness or justice from totga is telling. None of it makes sense, right? A rational version of her would understand that you're the one, that you belong together.

What I've learned: loving someone who is irrational with regards to me is an ongoing exercise in futiility and misery. It's like trying to talk to that barking dog: "Hey, this is my yard, doggy. I have a right to be here. You should stop barking now." Sure, you're right, and sure the dog is wrong, but you're not going to be happy anytime soon with all that racket going on.

topazz said...

I'm blogging for the mindblowing sex. The mindblowing sex that'll come after all the fame and fortune and wider recognition. I'M AVERAGING 25 VISITS A DAY, DADGUMMIT! Surely He's out there somewhere...

Bite oftheweek said...

Your neighbor did the poor dog a favor.

I wish you could see yourself the way we see you. I think then you would quit loving someone who you love only to punish yourself. I cannot find any redeeming qualities there. You probably wouldn't have any respect for someone who loved you the way you deserve to be loved anyway.

and so it goes.

I never wanted children. Ever. I knew how self-centered I was and I had no illusions of child-rearing being easy or rewarding. And I knew I would suck at it.
Despite all of that, they turned out amazing. Go figure.

rundeep said...

Come sit on my sofa little contradiction man. Yes, right there.

Were your parents too nice to you as a child? You seem to crave criticism, as long as there's a lot of it and the hope of the odd bone(r) coming your way.

Did you enjoy being the youngest? Don't want to compete for attention with the babies? But you still are too nice a person not to notice they are cute and grow decently, yes?

A difficult case. Write 3 more posts, call me in the morning. That'll be $500, I don't do HMOs. Or those other guys either.

Can I link you?

bright said...


Seriously. I would totally drive down there and pop you in the snoot if all the roads between here and there weren't flooded out.

switters said...

keifus: I remember when I finally figured out "Ramble On", that Page was probably playing an E bar chord that slips down to D over E then to the A chord up the fret board a ways where you can sus the 3rd with your pinky and still get the fullness of the open E 5th. It's still one of my favorite tunes to play on the gitfiddle. I love posts about learning music. Loved that one about your puss-stained mando. But I still hate David Grisman (sp?).

And I still haven't the faintest fucking clue how Townsend fingers "Magic Bus" or "Pinball Wizard", and it makes me feel... tiny.

august: Vick should be lynched, literally. On funny: On Werewolves And Lollipops, Patton Oswalt does this hilarious bit about there possibly being a parallel universe where Gore won in 2000, the towers didn't fall, and kids weren't dying in the desert, then he effects this mannered british accent from a 50s sci-fi movie and says, "On our planet, Arnold Schwarzenegger runs California, torture is legal, and spinach is poison." I can't do it justice, but it completely cracks me up because it's followed by his Bush and Cheney as the Duke boys bit. Get the album.

And it's Peter Travers, you lunk head.

kol: She has the most beautiful hands, and the most beautiful arms. Her piano playing was really starting to come along. So it's a shame she may not want any more lessons.

She's got beautiful feet, too.

dawn: She may not indeed get the fact that I can only really get over her when and only when she stops sending me mixed signals and just goes away. Which means she needs to put the "got-away" back into "the-one-that".

I woke up this morning with a pain in my chest, just below my left pectoral. I may have just had a stroke. I hope not.

topazz: I shouldn't tell you this, but I follow you around via the comments you leave on other threads, and you really crack me up. Also, all 5 of those guys are me. Hey, pretty lady, hows about that date already?

bite: Nice of you to say, but I hide my warts fairly well online, or at least I try to. But I think your kids turning out well only justifies your having had them. So, well done. And no, I don't think that movie was appropriate for that age.

It seems a little ironic that people here may like me more, maybe, than those in real life, though the personalities of the "2" aren't that disparate. At least not to me, but that could be part of the problem.

rundeep: Remember that scene in Moonstruck, when Cher slaps Nick Cage and says, "Snap out of it!"? Yeah, pretty much. But be careful what you offer; I might not ever leave that couch.

And if Fred doesn't show up to call me out on Music Box, then I'm never posting there ever again. (I mean it, Geoff. This time. I mean it!)

bright: Road trip. That's what I need. If I could get a month-long sabbatical, I'd pack the dogs in the old Dodge Rambler and visit every frayer I saw fit to visit, especially your sister, who isn't technically a frayer, that we know of.

I heard where they had to evacuate Ft. Dodge, Iowa because it was underwater.

It's obvious that I drink too much, smoke too many cigarettes and too much pot. (To be honest, when it comes to dope I'm a bit of a light weight.) But, dammit, that "switch" won't turn itself off. (rundeep's switch is, apparently, red wine, which is also totga's, in addition to massive amounts of pot. Hell, she's the one who turned me on to the weed.)

bright said...

PS: You're this guy.

Keifus said...

Grisman is a little, um, indulgent. I'm still pissed I paid money for "tone poems". (Handsome feller, though. Nice beard.)

bright: You're such an enabler. After that one what got away was complaining about his pops in the snoot...

skitch said...

Danielle. I'm rooting for her to win right now. Her dad is the smartest player in the house by a good margin, but she's easily the second smartest (a case could be made for Eric but we'll probably never really know because of the way America drags him non-strategically around by the nose). And though I love E.D. for the drama and interest he brings to the place, I'm just afraid that this current crop of jury weenies are grudge-holding, herd-following, non-thinking weasels who won't reward smart gameplay over their own hurt feelings (and strategic shortcomings).

Was telling bacon thhe other day that I'm tickled with the way this contest has shaped up to be God vs. God vs. America vs. the Evil Donatos. If TAR is video crack, BB is video 25 year old single malt Macallan.

Damn. The one that got away has been getting away with it for a pretty long time, don'tcha think?

skitch said...

Hey. My math skills are rusty and everyone keeps moving around and shit, but I think there's more than 4 of us in here...

switters said...

Hey, skitch.

Dick scares me. But not as much as the crazy gal kissing the St. Christopher medal thing.

It's pretty much this: I'm vexed, to paraphrase m'lady Jane Austen, to consider that my own happiness rests solely at the feet of another. It's not healthy. That's what I'm trying to address.

Still, it could be the 2 and 1/2 weeks of triple digit temps and soul-crushing humidity. But I don't think so. But it does made for some shady, uncomfortably long weekends.