Phew, it's dusty in here. And what is that smell?!
Sort of half-heartedly leading the charge into mediocrity since, oh, let's say around 1987 or so.
- Name: Effortlessly Average
- Location: Roaming (additional charges may apply), Argentina
Proof that with internet access and a powerful laxative, even insipid people will blog; the place where your excellence and my mediocrity collide; where my Karma whips ass on your dogma.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Monday, September 22, 2008
So... what are we going to talk about? Ever have one of those moods when you seem to really crave telling someone all you have to say, but just can't muster the energy required to write it down? That's me. You know what would be nice right now? A beer with someone that makes me laugh. I guess I've been a bit blaaaa lately and that's not normally me. Whatever. Maybe the problem is that my brain feels like there's so much banging around in there that I can't focus on any one thing long enough to say all about it that I might normally.
My alternative would be to sit here and blather on about "stuff" in my life, a-la "today I had soup for lunch and it was really good soup even though I'm not normally into soup.." blah blah blah, yeah, I'd suffer a narcoleptic episode just writing it, so I can imagine what you'd think reading it. The fact is I've got a ton of things on my mind, from my recent surgery to the one I think I'm going to have to have sooner than I'd thought (and it's got me a little worried, honestly); from trying to get beyond the ex dating the one person to whom I'd object to trying to figure out how to look at women without wondering "when would she fucking leave"; and even what on my "bucket list" I'm going to do next. Eh, I'll figure out something. I suppose what I'd really like is to feel like I belong to more than just what I can do for myself. That sounds stupid, doesn't it? What I mean is, to share; to feel; to be excited about a person again. As it is, I'm excited about what I'm doing for me, sure, but have no one to share those experiences with. You know what I mean. And while I'm excited about those things I've begun, I'm apathetic enough about people to figure no one gives enough of a shit.
Besides, c'mon, we've all seen those blogs that go on and on about general events in the author's life that, since we don't know them, we have a hard time reading. I don't really want to be that kind of blogger, if I can actually make claim to being one in the first place. You want to hear something funny though? I've got dozens of entries in the works that should be all the mediocrity you come here to enjoy; I just lose interest too quickly to finish them.
So let me open up the mailbag, where by "open" I mean holding it open so you can toss your questions in there. Someone help a guy out here. Anyone have a question? Comment? Or perhaps an opinion about how much shit McCain gave Obama for his lack of experience, then turned around and picked a running mate with only marginally more experience than my cat? No? Nothing? Fine, then dare me to do something.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
No longer a virgin
So guess where I've been the last couple days?
I'm borrowing the wireless connection from someone who obviously has a generator and believes internet access is a vital necessity. Lucky me.
It's early in the morning Saturday and I'm sitting in a lawn chair in the brick enclosed cubby of my front porch, where I'm almost entirely shielded from Ike, writing this. The rest of the house is sleeping, after having spent the night waiting for the windows to cave in. Everyone's fine, cuz I know you all were supremely concerned, right? Now I can say I've experienced my first hurricane.
Not what you expected from the title, no?
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Have A Drink on Me
So today's my 16th wedding anniversary. Considering the divorce isn't final, I'm not sure what to do. I'm also not sure which should make me feel worse: that it's a day I always considered special yet won't be again, or that I actually didn't even remember what day it was until she reminded me just before it was over.
The Definition of Irony
So you want the definition of irony?
When Cortez crashed Montezuma's party back in the early 16th century, he and his out-for-the-gold shipmates were introduced to a fruit we now call the avocado. Actually the Spanish word for avocado, which generally sounds, phonetically, like ahb-oh-GOD-ah, is their word for lawyer. They did this because they struggled with the pronunciation of the Aztec word for the fruit, which is a whole lot of vowels and reminds me of the word "waddle" whenever I hear it, so the Spaniards used the word that sounded the closest to them. A word that happens to mean "lawyer" in Spanish. Now here's the ironic part: in Aztec, the many-vowelled word for avocado doesn't mean lawyer; it means testicle.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
So, while I write one of the most poignant entries you'll ever read, take this and try not to hum along.
Soon. Very soon.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Minutiae: it isn't just an 80's mexican boy band
So where have I been, you may be wondering? Or not? As my literally ones of readers will attest, I sometimes vanish for periods of time, just to collect my thoughts and sort shit out. Of course I won't bore you with the insistence that I've been "busy," mostly because I really haven't been so much busy as just plain lazy. Although I guess you could say I've had a lot going on, just not the kinds of things anyone would care to know. That's what makes this blog different from the rest, see? Some blogs are filled with statements of deep thinking. Others the kind of banal commentary about crap their closest friends don't care about, let alone a near stranger. Oh, and let's not forget the great many tomes regarding the frequency and consistency of their kids' stool; as if we all want to know how often their naughty spawn lay pipe. But not this blog. No, no. This blog guarantees consistent mediocrity. Here at EA, we're not just any run of the mill insipid blog... we're THE run of the mill insipid blog.
Just to lend some validity to just how mundane the events of my recent life have been, allow me to peel back the lid and give you a whiff. Come closer, you can't smell it from way over there. No, not that close; I don't want you to pass out. Good, right there. Ok then...
I've been cleaning out my blogroll. And when I say blogroll, I mean my Google Reader roster. I know I don't keep a blogroll on my blog, but I'd like you to know that it's not personal. I just got tired of some people who shall now remain nameless going out to all the sites on my blogroll, searching for comments I'd left, with a view toward catching me being disingenuous. I mean really, it's not like they need to go someplace else to prove that. They can get that confirmation right here.
Several thoughts occurred to me as I perused the blogroll, but the common denominator was that despite spending most of my adult life observing human behavior, I have to admit that I just don't get people. I'll save the details of my reasons for said statement for another post, save one observation: I don't get ultra religious people.
I mean, so much of what they take as gospel just doesn't make sense to me. Take the book of Genesis, for example. Six days? And a 7th to rest? Doesn't that suggest God is fallible; that He tires? And isn't that a stick to the eye that He is all powerful? After all, if He's all-powerful, why couldn't He just wave His hand and "snap" everything was already there. And how did they know what a "day" was, anyway, since by it's very definition, a day wasn't possible until the Earth and Sun were created? But these people believe every single word Genesis says as if it's beyond contestation. Which I just don't get, cuz I don't think Genesis was all that great a band, or Phil Collins all that amazing a drummer. And what the hell is a Susudio, anyway?
Aside from that (and to prevent you having to spend too much time reading EA today), the only other thing I wanted to tell you today was that I had to take a day from work last week to go to court. See, all I wanted to do was spruce up my car, but I got a ticket for hanging an air freshener from my rear view mirror. Can you believe that crap? And I worked hard on that air freshener. Apparently, according to The Man, it's illegal to make an air freshener that looks like a handicapped placard.
Makes me wish I'd been pulled over in Arkansas. Over there, the cops are a lot more laid back. How so? Well, if you're in Arkansas and get pulled over for suspicion of DUI, you get to go on your way if your BAC is lower than the cop's.
Oh, and before I let you return to your regular schedule of surfing for circus animal porn and midget leg wrestling on YouTube, let me ask you something: A buddy and I were walking through the park the other day, talking about dating and women, when we happened across a dog licking his balls. My buddy chuckled and replied "wow, I wish I could do that. Then I wouldn't need a woman." And despite the seriousness of our conversation, the first thing that popped out of my mouth was "well, that's fine with me, but maybe you should pet him first."
Does that make me wierd?