Friday Concoction

Jim and I like to play this game if we're people-watchin. He'll say, "Hey look! There's Dabney Coleman!" And I'll say, "Yes and look he's getting a parking ticket from Roseanne." You know, witty banter back and forth like that. Only it's not as much fun in Missoula because how many clever comments can you make about seeing Santa Clause and Jerry Garcia? It's like a mobile wax museum of Greatest Musicians of the 70's up in here. Except on the college campus, where it's all O.C., all the time. Please can I see your ass crack? Thank you, thank you, thank you, ew, no thank you... and so on. I'm sure at some point the pendulum will swing away from low-rise jeans, but I guess we're going to have to wait for all the puny twenty-somethings to get fat, and only then will Gap bring back the mu-mu. Then all of the left-over clothes will get sent to impoverished countries in sub-saharan Africa, which will effectively slow the population growth to a crawl with the ugliness of it all because they don't have those clever Gap ads with Sarah Jessica Parker telling them that ass-crack is cool, and finally they'll be all like, "What the hell? America used to send us the hats and t-shirts from the second place team at the Superbowl and now all of a sudden we're getting jeans that are only half finished? America sucks! Take all these obscene clothes back to Kelly Ripa right away!" And then Kelly Ripa would be forced to show her ass-crack the rest of her life, which probably wouldn't be much of a punishment after all.

So I think Quinn is weaned. It wasn't hard. I mean the weaning wasn't too hard. My right boobie is as hard as a rock. I'm pretending it's augmented with something other than milk and took the opportunity to do a little pole dancing last night. It has slightly less appeal when just one boob is augmented and the other one is a sad, empty reminder of what used to be. And pole dancing in my soccer shorts with a broom handle to Ray of Light isn't quit as sexy as it sounds. Okay then... on to the concoction...

Links and Asundry

• Isn't it sad that our kids will never go to drive-in theatres? Isn't it sad that the last movie I ever saw at a drive-in was Operation Dumbo Drop. When I was 23. And not high or drunk.
  
• I read yesterday that the Iraq war bill is now equal to what was projected as the total cost of funding the Kyoto Protocol. Now it's not entirely fair to compare the two, but it is interesting to note that Bush rejected participating in the Protocal because he said the cost would cause "serious harm to the U.S. economy."
  
• I use this as inspiration to eat directly from the tub of real whipped cream left over from Quinn's cake. I sure hope they're on their way into a hospital.
  
• It seems like I would mix up Jack Black with Jack White, but I don't. Really, one's just a bloated funnier version of the other, don't you think?
  
• And now, the token pretty-pretty (and reasonably priced, don't ya think?) and because it's about that time.
  

Then the subject of my first erotic dream - he kissed me on the cheek as we were driving together in our giant Ford van to go to the bookmobile (in my dream he had on that hunky beige uniform)...



Now the subject of last night's erotic dream - I need not say that with a toddler in bed with us, dreams become very important in remembering what parts do what and go where...