Tuesday, February 08, 2005
 
Spot The Pratchett Reference, Win A Pony
Happy Fat Tuesday everybody!

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, a day of absolute deprivation and despair as we prepare in joyful hope for the coming of our Lord and Savior J. H. Christ, Esq. by being really hungry and cranky and yelling at our kids for no reason at all.

But today, oh today... if only I lived in Rio de Janeiro or New Orleans. According to what I see on TV, today is all about boobies in those towns. The long, slow days of Lent, when our self-sacrifice makes us pray for death on a daily basis as we suffer without our caffeine or our nicotine or our $1,000/day internet porn addiction or whatever it is we choose to forego for 40 days is assuaged (apparently) by seeing as many boobies as one can right up until the last second. Because nothing says religious sincerity like a good old fashioned bacchanalia just before we devote ourselves to God.

But since I don't live in N'awlins or Rio and the only boobies I have regular access to are way out in Newport all day long, I decided to start the day off by wetting my corn flakes with Jim Beam. I felt kind of bad because of the promise I made to the family of the woman who donated my second liver (come on, I went to a state school... cirrhosis is like chlamydia in those places), but I won't tell them if you won't.

I have to pace myself though. Mrs. Pops said she's not bailing me out of jail any more. She sounded very firm last year after I punched that lady at the grocery store (she clearly had 11 items in the 10-items-or-less line, the bitch), so I'm afraid she might actually mean it. At least I know I can count on one of my new blog-made best-friends-forevers to come and get me in a pinch, right? Right.

Enjoy your gluttony, everybody.

Now, something else.

This picture is of the flowering plum tree outside my house.



Yes stalkers, take your notes. Mine's the house with the flowering plum tree out front. That narrows it down to every house built in SoCal in the last 15 years. Happy hunting.

That's not my SUV, in case you were wondering.

Anyone want to tell me what's wrong with the picture above? Anyone? No?

OK, try again.



From up close now. Lovely, aren't they?

Figure it out yet? OK, here's a hint: the pictures were taken this morning...

Got it? Oh that's it... yes! The flowers! It's spring-time in California! And it's the first week of February.

I tell you, I'm pretty damned ambivalent. Sure, it's nice to rub it in the faces of people who live in the godforsaken hell-holes all over this country, currently freezing their redneck asses off in dirt-floor hovels (or wherever it is you people live). I take a great deal of pride in accidentally being born someplace where the climate is generally mild.

But at the same time, for the love of all that is holy, it's February 8th. It doesn't start getting cool and rainy out here until the middle of December and then within eight weeks, the trees think it's spring. That means summer is just five short weeks away!

And of course summer lasts for eight months...

Sometimes my smog-caused 20% reduction in lung capacity hardly seems worth it.

The only thing I can take comfort in is that I know by the time I'm finished with the bourbon and move on to the hard stuff (I make it myself from apples and... well, mostly apples) I won't know my own name, let alone what season it is. That tree out front and I will have alot in common.



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 7.7


Pops


Comments:
I have no other reason to comment except to be horribly obnoxious (in print) and scream (in print) FIRST!!!!!!!!!

I'll go back later and read the actual post. Really.
 
Boobies in Newport? Please explain, as I am there frequently.
 
Look! There's a picture of a bucket! Pops got a digital camera, I'm guessing.
 
HFB: Not only have you stopped writing actual posts, but now you've stopped reading them as well. Whatever you're writing better be a humdinger.

Butcher: The only boobies I have access to in Newport are attached to my wife, who works there daily. To you, access is completely denied. Isn't there a Score's or a Spearmint Rhino in Newport? Or do you have to go to Huntington for sleazy stuff like that? I don't know. Find Dennis Rodman and he'll lead you to some Newport sleaze.

SJ: Actually, we got the digital camera two years ago. Only now is it finally realizing its full potential. Kinda sad when I think about it.
 
Lucky you, at least you can guess(wrongly) the season in your area. Here in my joint it looks the same all year long, unless it rains, then we're confused and we call it a state of emergency.
 
Alas, Rodman's no longer in Newport--he moved quite a few months ago. I did used to love running by there, though, and seeing his Rodman TV Hummer--the one with all the naked chicks painted on it. Oh, and his Benz convertible that had the leopard spotted flames. Yeah, that man is total class. Anyhoo, I love that bucket picture, and I love the inclusion of visual aids to your blog. I feel like I know you so much better now. And I know exactly where your house is.
 
So did you know, that in the Armenian church (that's my church) we started lent already? We must be gluttons for punishment.

Also, winter has ended in Wisconsin also. Do you know how I can tell? Despite the 30 degree weather, the warm-season Dairy Queen has now opened. Also, the construction has started. Yes. So we are officially out of winter.
 
Yoli: No, that sounds pretty much like southern California. We're either running from water or from fire, that's how we tell what season it is.

Steph: Damn! Now I can never realize my dream of crashing one of Rod-Man's house parties.

The bucket picture is a self-portrait. I think it makes me look kinda blocky and round-ish, but it's the best one I could get.

K: What you godless heathens do on your own time is your business.

And my mom is going to be in Wisconsin for a three-month stay starting next week. It's good to know she won't instantly freeze to death. It may take her 20 minutes or so.

Plus, construction stops? We really do live in two different worlds.
 
Oh my God!! I drive by that tree every day!! I'm coming over!
 
Damnit! I was really hoping to win that pony. I've been wetting my ice all day with whiskey. Had a known there was going to be a contest I would've hit the hard stuff. If I had to make a guess, this registers as the most Pratchett-esque.

Because nothing says religious sincerity like a good old fashioned bacchanalia just before we devote ourselves to God.If I win I want my pony processed into ponysteaks.
 
I think the flowering is a result of the asterioid that's coming too damn close to Earth. Just another sign that we're all going to die! By the way, did you know that you can see your address on the reflection of the SUV windows. I have already sent a package and it will smell worse by the time it gets to you.
 
Larry: Only if you're bringing the bacchanalia with you.

Rambuncle: Well, half credit for mentioning Pratchett and at least knowing who he was. So you get half a pony. The reference was super, super subtle, so don't feel bad.

It was actually this: "I make it myself from apples and... well, mostly apples". If you know what scumble is, this is no problem.

MPH: Man, and to think my neighbors just had the windows replaced after I took a crowbar to that thing last month. O cruel irony!
 
I have to spend an hour today scraping off ice from my car and unfreezing my doors. To hear you complain about Spring makes me want to cut down your flowering plum tree.
 
Yesterday is was supposed to snow. By Saturday it's supposed to be 59 degrees. I know MO is totally screwed up when it comes to weather, but it's February, dammit. I waited the ten months for summer to end, now I want some winter.

Mother Nature is my nemisis.
 
Brent: Did I mention it was 80 degrees last week? No? It was 80 degrees last week.

Jess: 59 degrees sounds plenty wintery to me. If you hate Mother Nature so much, use a lot of aerosols and also drive as much as possible. That will show her.
 
That would have been my second guess (but who would believe me), but I didn't specifically remember scumble.

I am disappointed that you didn't know I liked Pratchett. I feel saddened that you haven't been keeping a comprehensive personal file on me. You just popped the cherry on my blog comments last week and you didn't even notice the Pratchett quote at the top. Dark, dark days.
 
Well, color me perceptive. You know with all the blogs I have on my roll, they start to merge together in my brain after a while. You're the 50 year old woman liberated by the joys of menopause, right?
 
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