Blogging and waiting for midnight

That's when I can start the marathon of watering. Friday is the day in my little suburban neighborhood, and since I will be at school most of the day, I've got to stay up late to get at least the minimum amount of moisture in this black clay shit which pretends to be soil. It did rain this week--twice actually--so that was a nice surprise.

I've had a question (or maybe it's an answer) that's been on my mind for some time now, but I haven't been able to determine any appropriate or humorous comments which can be applied. Please help. It seems like it has the chance to be really funny, but I (along with various colleagues) have been stumped. Here's the quote, seen on a bumper sticker while driving down Interstate 30 in East Texas:

"Jesus is the Answer"

Naturally, the first thing I thought was: Well, if Jesus is the answer, then what is the fucking question? Thinking there would be a multitude of humorous and possibly blasphemous questions, I have kept this thought with me.
But I've been unable to come up with anything. Perhaps I've crossed the line too many times and TGLJC has shut down my ability to conjure blasphemy. Or maybe I should give up and enter the priesthood. Or maybe it's just impossible. Any comments about this would be greatly appreciated.

There have been a couple of people who aren't terribly excited about eh upcoming semester, namely T. I share his sentiments for many of the same reasons--and even have a few of my own which make me a bit disgruntled at the thought of being back in the flow of grad school life.
Good: the faculty parking sticker has been purchased.
Bad: My fundage is going to be seriously low until the first check arrives in October.
Good: I got a $2000 grant from the state and was recently awarded a $3000 "Pride" scholarship for the upcoming year (both were unexpected, but welcome surprises).
Bad: I'm still going deeper in the hole with another $9000 in student loans.
Good: I'm going to be off work every Friday, and most of the day Mondays and Wednesdays
Bad: I have to work.

I'm going to stop now, water the yard, and chill. Most of the night, I've been reading a condensed version of Samuel Richardson's Clarissa, a novel I find to be entertaining if you're into 18th century epistolary works. But then again, who isn't?


A true man of letters:
Instead of growing hair, I think I'll look into a powdered wig. Perhaps that would go over well the first day of teaching Eng 101 in the fall?

On Vacation

Well, not that I've been posting anyway, but I'll be conspicuously absent for the next week.

See you guys on Monday.

Because I have a paper to write

That's why I'm posting. I've already eaten dinner, smoked a cigarette, replaced the broken side mirror on the Explorer, checked my email, updated my fantasy baseball team, checked any quasi-interesting sports stories, talked about meaningless nonsense with my wife, removed my contact lenses, done several loads of laundry, let the soaker hose around the house run for a few hours, changed clothes . . . and who knows what else.

There was really nothing left for me to do at this point but to blog.

Soon, I will be putting Hawthorne to rest for good. RIP, Thorny.

Things that are bothering me today:

• A big "Fuck you" to Mr. McElroy and Mr. McDonald, two literary scholars who apparently traveled forward in time from 1982 in order to steal my ingenious idea for my Hawthorne paper. E alluded to the fact that I should probably get used to this (the fact that all of the clever ideas have already been published) in Early American studies, and she's probably right. Using a time machine, though? That's just wrong . . .
• Vacations, surprisingly enough, are not always highly anticipated as being a good time. I'm trying to see what else I could have done with the money. Hmmm . . . I could buy crack.
• Stitching ninja suits from children's bedsheets sounds a lot easier than it actually is. In fact, it's quite difficult, especially when considering that I don't really sew. And I've learned that you can't just cut a police crime scene chalk figure from a piece of fabric and expect it to work. Three dimensional garments are excruciatingly difficult to produce.
• I've been smoking way too much lately. That probably has something to do with the drinking too much lately.
• No one will be around to mow or water my yard when I'm gone to the beach. Maybe I can get someone to yard-sit. Is that even possible?
• Do I want to crash a party with my buddy on Saturday even though it is his birthday? Or do I want to sit at home and stare at my wife and kids? Decisions, decisions . . .
• I've been really digging the hell out of some James Brown lately, particularly "Payback." The beat is pretty damn funky, and there seems to be something cathartic about the James Brown scream. I've tried it several times while cruising up and down the interstate, but I always wind up being embarrassed even though I know that no one can see me. Maybe I just need a little more work, that's all.
• Savannah is shaping up to be a rather costly good time. We could all get into a great deal of trouble without the Goose to act as our paternal figure like he did in Little Rock. Hopefully, we won't catch the Georgian HIV while stationed there.
• I plan on getting drunk this Thursday night, as it will be the last day of class for this session. Beware all.
  

Six days later

Sometimes I feel bad for neglecting this stupid little blog. I probably look at it almost every day, but I just don't seem to have the energy or a blog-worthy subject at the same intervals. When I have something cool to say, I'm too bogged down in the day to day grind or just lazy. Whenever I feel like sharing something, I have nothing of any importance to share.

Blah.

So I would probably say that the biggest news for me right now has been the recent MLB trades involving the beloved yet failing Texas Rangers. Not only did we send the likeable Mench, the questionable Cordero, and the never-will-be-anything Nix to Milwaukee, but we received All-Star Lee in return. I just saw where they made a trade with Colorado for a catcher (for cash), which should mean that Barajas (not Laird, please not Laird) should be on his way out the door, hopefully involved in a trade that would send the one-dimensional (HR or bust) Blalock to the Orioles for a certain Miguel Tejada. It sounds like a good idea, but we will likely be unable to pull it off. On another front, NFL training camp has begun, and I'm already rubbing my hands together in anticipation.
The sports scene is improving on a daily basis which is not necessarily a good thing for my studies.

On another note, I have recently contracted some type of ear ailment (no hearing AIDS jokes, please) which has left me lying on my left side with cotton in my ear. Reminds me of a camping trip I went on once . . .

This ear inflammation was likely caused by the asswhip of water rides at theme parks.

Here is the family at Six Flags on Saturday, enjoying the heat along with 15 million other people. I think the longest wait was 1:45 minutes for a roller coaster.

On the left is my daughter, then my son, then some random girl, then my wife. My son was not really digging putting the hands up:


Good times.

A Tale of Two Do-Nothings in Cancun: Visual Impairment, Fire Tequila, and "Together, Together"

Well, despite the fact that I did not lose an eye in a knife fight, I still wound up being visually impaired during my recent excursion to Cancun. Somewhere in the Carribean Ocean, there is a $400 pair of glasses that I really could use right now. But what do you do? Let's see, I lost them on Wednesday, which of course was the very first day I got down there.

I did manage to pick up a couple of boxes of Cuban cigars from some random dude wandering the beach. It seems that the beach is quite an area for vendors. While I was there, I was offered cigars, vacation packages, watches, necklaces, conch shells, and even "something to make me feel good, like Bob Marley" according to this particular gentleman.

The most random thing probably happened on our way back from Chichen Itza. Our bus stopped at a restaurant to eat, and my brother and I were forced to sit directly across from the worst kind of couple. They were laughing and giggling the entire meal, feeding each other, acting all cute and shit. They were basically unbearable. My brother asked if they were newlyweds because they were acting so gay. They said they were (naturally) on their honeymoon, though they claimed they had been acting like that for years. I told them that they would get tired of that eventually, while actually I was thinking that the dude (who was a fucking douchebag) would probably get tired of her within a week or so. Anyway, after we were forced to have a conversation with them, the lady asks us if my brother and I were together. We said that we were together. So she asks, "Are you guys together together?"

Keep in mind that my brother and I look a lot alike. We're the same build, hair color, etc. Plus, we're both wearing rings which don't match, and we were not acting in the least bit homosexual. So I think that may be the first time someone has ever asked me if I was hooked up with a dude. As dumb as it sounded, we couldn't help but laugh at her before we stabbed her in the eyes.

FYI--Don't drink a half of a cup of tequila with jalapenos in it and pretend it's just a shot. If it takes four to five gulps to get the tequila down, then you probably have too much. Thank you for the Sunday morning hangover, Jose. Good times.

My wife has been putting lotion on my head for the last thirty minutes because my scalp has been itching like a bitch from the sunburn I got while snorkeling. Even though it itches, I'll probably still be wandering around in a few days with what appears to be the worst case of dandruff ever.