Hedgwick with an S

Look, I don't watch TV much anymore, but have things really come to this? How in the hell was The Closer really the number one show last week? Granted, I've never watched it but the previews always looked horrible. I mean Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place for a grievous plagiarization of Law and Order kind of horrible. Like slit your throat in the middle of a pentagram while swinging live cats above your head kind of horrible. Have they gotten better since last year? I don't see how. And for that matter, what does this say about the state of television as a medium and form of entertainment? There's no way someone could glean pleasure from such shoddy delirium. How sad must their pathetic life be to allow such a program to distract them from it. I believe in TV as escapism as much as the next man, but is this really where you wanted to go?

When all the chafe is cleared away, what it all boils down to is there's no way that a women who looks like that could have the highest rated week on TV other than the week hell froze over. Seriously, she's like the sea monster man from a 1960's comic. Gills flapping sloppily from her neck as she places her seaweed encrusted fins around your throat and begins to tighten. By this point, you're begging for death to come swiftly simply to escape her horrific presents. I don't know if she spawned offspring but if so, I pray to God someone killed them on the spot. I'm not ready to deal with the anti-Christ. I know I'm going completely dork with this one but if Voldemort is "he who shall not be named" then that bitch is definitely "she who shall not be named".

I had no idea The Closer was a horror series. You don't see many of them these days but I'm not saying I'm opposed. Simply that I won't watch for fear I'd never go to sleep again. I've been told by at least one credible source that she's not really alive. It was said to me in a comforting tone. I found no solace in it. But let me tell you, if she's the living dead then things are far worse than I ever suspected. Infinately worse. How do you kill something that's already dead? I pray they have directions for it on Wikipedia or the back of milk cartons right next to little Tim's smiling face. That's right, Tim was her last victim. She ate his face off and melted the remains with merely a fiery glance.

I can't believe she has one of my favorite names, for a girl, of all time. I curse her father - the smallest ostrich at the San Diego Zoo - with never ending muscle spasms and an eternity in hell.

As a brief side note, what the hell is a "Hannah Montana"? Apparently, a lot of people are watching one, leading me to assume it's some kind of bear.


Also, on a completely unrelated note, I've started a myspace page in support of the blog and to showcase some of my more melodious work. You may have notice my absence and music is the reason. I've actually been writing quite a bit, I just need to spend a little more time learning the recording equipment to get things not sounding like Kira looks. Uh Oh...tie in...zing!

What's a boy to do?

As you may well have guessed, I've switched over to summer hours as far as the blog is concerned. Right now, things are just too crazy to really keep up with it and after a year of writing dribble I figure I could use a little break to hopefully come up with some new dribble. That being said, I'm not really going away, I'm simply cutting my posts back to once or maybe if you're unlucky twice a week. It's plain impossible for me to do anymore, adhering to the high standards I've set for myself, the way work's been going lately. So, please, bear with me.

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The alarm goes off at 5:45am. I roll over, pulling the sheets tight, and hit the snooze before burrowing in for another nine minutes of sleep. My escape back to dream world is seamless. The alarm buzzes again at 5:53 and this time I have to oblige it. I take a shower, towel dry, brush the teeth and throw some clothes on as fast as I can. I don't want to be late for work. I let the dog out and rummage through the refrigerator for something to eat. Finding nothing that qualifies as editable, I kiss the lady goodbye and head out the door and off to another twelve hours of work. Work is work, enough said. I get home around 7:45pm because traffic sucks and promptly change into running clothes after letting the dog out again. I run whatever distance the schedule tells me to and lift afterwards. That all puts me at about 9 to 9:30pm. Then I eat dinner (maybe) , clean up a little around the house, surf the internet or play guitar for an hour or so and then head to bed. It's like that every day.

Now, I'm not going to complain about being busy. In fact, I much prefer to be busy. Most of the time when I'm not going a mile a minute I feel lazy and complacent. I like a little time to myself, or an afternoon here and there to sit around and do nothing but I need to be active. The one thing that really gets me about how my life's course is currently running is that every day is the same. They each have their perks and peaks and there's something new or different about each one but they're all extremely similar. And if every day is the same, that means I've slipped into a routine, which is something I find absolutely horrifying.

People run on routine. Some even need it to survive. It's structure, security and something to fall back on. Without it, people become paralyzed, unable to react when something dynamic changes in their life - unable to cope with life's only constant. It's when people get to that level that it becomes debilitating and can lead to a fun trip in the happy van to the glorious asylum. Though typical, for the average person, routine never reaches that point, and instead simply acts as a guide and organizational tool. It can enrich lives and help turn good ideas into reality. Everyone falls into some kind of routine, even if that routine is constantly breaking routine. It's impossible to accomplish anything worthwhile without some implementation of routine. And therefore, I'm not total opposed to it. However, the guy who said you can never had enough of a good thing was full of shit.

I just don't like waking up and feeling like the day events have been completely predetermined. Every day planned. If I want to know what's going to happen, I think back to the day before. That kind of routine makes me want to jump out the window (maybe not that extreme). I feel I'm slipping into something like that, whether I want to or not. Like a misguided adventurer slowly sinking in quicksand. I'm not a routine guy. I like a little excitement and a bit of the unforeseen. I like changing and adapting and adjusting to the curve balls life hurls our way. I'm not a huge fan of drama - a major routine breaker - but I do enjoy being a fourth party gossip monger - you know, that friend of a friend of a friend of the girl who got pregnant by her college professor (just an example...maybe). Or, if I'm getting really lucky, a surreptitiously interested third party observer. Drama can be the spice of life and certainly has a way of making things interesting.

So what's a boy to do? How do you shake things up without bring the entire house down? I'm not sure, but I think not working so much will have a strong positive effect. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to make that happen. It'd be sweet if some wealthy but ultimately bored billionaire with one foot in the grave would pay me shitloads of money to entertain him/her for the remainder of their natural lives. Of course, the services I provide would have their limits. Nothing sexual in nature because I'm no harlot. My services would be akin to that of a monkey with better listen skills and the ability to hurl insults at people instead of feces - though I can do that as well.

I better get my resume ready before the offers come flying in.

Making and Breaking Bread

Most of the time, we go to work to bring in the bread, the paper, sweet baby cash, the big green, whatever you want to call it. Today, for the first time ever, I went to work and ended up making a different kind of bread. The real kind of bread. Garlic Italian to be exact.

Yup, we've got a bread maker at work now. I will be enjoying the sweet homemade flavor of artisan breads the likes of cinnamon raisin, whole wheat and a host of others. The possibilities are only limited by the selection offered at our local grocer. And with simple add water instructions, even someone with my culinary skills is qualified enough to act as baker. Sure, it sounds like a howitzer when it's kneading, but there's nothing better than a sandwich made with two warm slices of white pulled straight from the oven.

The little slice of dough kneading heaven is located directly across from me in the cubicle on the other side of my team's little passageway. And let me tell you, the smell from that thing when it clicks and whistles into bake mode is enough to make you want to eat your own hand. It's so delightful. Seriously, this morning I had to force my finger out of my mouth with my free hand just before I bit down. Things could have got ugly but thankfully I'm a handsome devil and that never happens. There's just no getting away from the smell, which the building's air handling system did an admirable job picking up and distributing throughout the office. The building is as long as a football field and there was honestly no escaping it. It was like a wonderful nasal nuke had been dropped in the office and I was sitting in the epicenter just taking it all in. People said the office smelled similar to a Subway - the fast food place, not mass transit - but I found that offensive. What we had going, Subway could only dream of. I know they'll spit the corporate line and say they make all their bread fresh, but personally, I've never seen dough anywhere in that place. Their employees never come out of the back covered in flour or meal. I think it's all a marketing ploy. A cruller conspiracy - and, yes, I know they don't serve deep fried dough, twisted and covered with sugar at Subway, but I like the way it sounded. At the office, we're so much above all that. Truthfully, they should add "maker of the best bread in town" as an occupation on our business cards.

God what a great day. Now I've got to run to the story to pick up some seven grain mix or maybe some banana for breakfast. I'm certain there's no way I can go wrong on this one.