Friday, May 17, 2013
Back when this blog trickled out of the sports realm and into the whatever-I-felt-like-writing-about realm, I decided that it would be best for me to refrain from using curse words. I did this for some time, and applied the same rule to Twitter. The idea was that someone -- anyone -- was going to stumble across my writing, and say, I've got to tell the boss to throw this cat a pile of cash to do some writing, and that those chances would be hindered if I were immature enough to use profanity. Sort of like not wanting to have a bunch of blood-shot-eye, Jager-bomb-in-hand photos on Facebook while you're interviewing for jobs during the sunlight hours.
In hindsight, it was pretty dumb, but in hindsight, so have been many of the thoughts I've had since, well, adolescence. That said...
I fucking hate possums. Or opossums. Why do we have two frickin' ways of spelling this word? I looked at both entries on dictionary.com, and found myself with a better question than that: If the definition of these things includes the phrase "of the eastern U.S.", then why, in the name of all uncute marsupials, are these things everyfreakingwhere in the midwest?
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Kinda how it goes.
There're probably dozens of different names for a blog that just aren't taking root right now, and, as Stuart Smalley would say, "that's okay."
I can change it if one of them resonates with me at some point.
Really, though, the only thing that even contended with "Whitesnake Lyrics" was a line from The Shawshank Redemption. The token one.
The one that comes after the two-month stint in the hole. Yeah. That one.