Run to the Hills

You know a treadmill session is going to go fast when shuffle hits “Paranoid” and “Run to the Hills” on the first two songs.

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Well, That Sucked

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I deleted a post on Facebook last night. I was bitching about the Super Bowl and I think I was just too much of a curmudgeon. In retrospect I realize that I was in a bad mood that entire game and I let it leak out on social media. I’m still in a bad mood but I’ll rein it in.

This game was an atrocity though. I had not watched a professional football game for an entire year and I guess I expected to see some excellence, some fire, and maybe a little precision. Instead I was treated to a crude defensive battle, a lot of commercials that did very little to amuse or entertain, and the milquetoast pop of Coldplay. I’m not the only one. There’s been a lot of opinions in the media on what a dud the game was, the lackluster commercials, and of course what a lame-ass band Coldplay is. Here’s Slate discussing the game:

http://www.slate.com/articles/sports/sports_nut/2016/02/why_you_hated_the_super_bowl_this_year.html

And then there’s Grandpa Quarterback and Corporate Pitchman/Slut Peyton Manning. I know people that worship this shill or at least think he’s really a decent guy. I don’t know him personally and despite the fact that I’ve heard he’s kind of a hyper-competitive jerk who values his corporate sponsors more than anything, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. But at the end of the game last night America’s quarterback did not disappoint. Who was the first person to get his attention? A sportsmanship handshake with Cam Newton? A kiss for his wife and kids? Nope, he bussed the odious Papa John Schnatter, one of his biggest sponsors.

Yep, I’m done with football for an entire year and glad of it.

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Caturday – Celebration Day

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Amy appears to be happy that the dogs have left the bed.

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Even a Chihuahua Can Make Friends

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Here’s Merry crashing on the bed with Amy Feral Fowler and Pippin.

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Suggested Amazon Warning Labels

suggested Amazon warning labels

Sometimes you see things on Facebook that are actually good. Thank you Words on Words.

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How a Sixty-Year-Old Woman Rocks

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Sweet mercy!

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Anne L Retentive

You keep using that word

When I used to work at the publishing company I would often walk by a cube where an editor had hung a sign above her name: Anne L Retentive. That sort of mindset was encouraged there. Well, think about it. In work that requires perfection and accuracy being anal retentive or obsessive was not a bug, it was a desired feature.

I’ll never be a perfectionist though I am fairly persnickety about getting things right. I can often be a slob but all things considered, I like a clean environment to work and live in, an order to everything. My wife, who actually has obsessive compulsive disorder, can be that way as well. My ADHD-spawned procrastination can get the best of me in this regard. Right now I should just whip the basement into shape but I keep putting it off. I know that someday the dam will burst and I’ll get it straightened up. Until then I’m putting it off.

I get fussy about weird things. My CD and album racks are arranged alphabetically except for a few chosen genres. Oh, and Led Zeppelin has to be ahead of the “A” artists. I get a sense of satisfaction when I’ve emptied the dishwasher and all the glasses are back into their proper places. I straighten the cat food cans in a particular order. I tell myself it’s so I can make sure that they get a proper variety.

Then there’s my computer habits. I got in the habit of opening the “my computer” file to see how much space was left in my hard drive and external drives. You should keep those at or above fifteen percent capacity. But I take it a step further. I like to see the amount available to be either an even number or divisible by five. And then, I prefer that the last digit of the amount available in my C drive matches the last digit in my external hard drive. Or to have both of them end in numbers divisible by five. That’s just a little fucked up.

Now it could be that I’ve gotten this way from being around a person with OCD for many many years. Or it could be that because so many aspects of our life is out of control that I fixate on the things I can control. The later could be closer to the truth. But either way, I embrace this eccentricity. For the most part it’s harmless so why not let my freak flag fly. If it reaches the point where I’m trying to regulate the word count on these posts then I’ll know it has gone too far. You’ll know because this blog will start looking real tidy.

 

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