Stray Thoughts

Just listening to "Parents Just Don't Understand" by Fresh Prince (aka Will Smith) and D.J. Jazzy Jeff. Damn, talk about a song to make you feel old! I remember laughing my ass off watching that video and he was just a punk 17 year old kid. Now he's Mr. Hollywood and married to one of the hottest women on the planet . . . I bet his parent's are understandin' their asses off now!

So, still crazy at work (though the hate calls have finally stopped!) but I caught a few minutes to take a breath and post. Heading to a funeral service when I get home tonight. It sucks, because the family member who passed was a genuinely nice guy. It always seems the good ones go early and the assholes linger forever. My mom likes to say: "God calls home the ones he loves best, soonest". I translate that as: God hates assholes too and don't want 'em around him any longer than necessary! (that's just me of course, I'm all warm and fuzzy that way.)

Out shopping for furniture last night (wishful thinking on our part that the house will be done soon!) and I came to the realization that The Wife and I agree on nothing. (I know: I've shocked you again, haven't I?) We looked at a dozen couches and the ones I hated she loved. The ones I loathed, she adored. Standing there in that furniture store, I had a realization about life, relationships, and the nature of humanity. I realized something about women that had escaped me until that moment of epiphany . . .

You all have terrible taste!

Well, at least it doesn't coincide with anything that a man would consider "taste"! The difference is in thought process. I'm busy looking for what will be practical (wide enough for my fat ass to lay out on) durable (the salsa I drip on it wipes off) and attractive (it ain't got no pukey-lookin' flower crap all over it) The Wife disregards all these criteria for the twisted concept of "Coordination" (The chartruse of the swag matches the mauve couplets of the duvet . . . Whatever the hell THAT means!) Everything must match everything else. The very thought makes my poor brain ache. How about the concept of: it don't look like crap and it's comfortable as hell?

Must be a man thing.

Anyway, still no writing work done. I promise I'll be back on a regular schedule starting next week. (No, really! Hey! I've warned you before about laughing at the blogger, haven't I? Don't make me get all medevial on your readerly ass!)

Later!