Guess where I am

Too good for him

My "Lawyers" daily calendar today (actually, the weekend entry that I didn't read until today) has a supposedly true story of a 1930s Missouri district attorney who said the following about a defendant:

[He] ought to be shot through the mouth of a red-hot cannon, through a barbed wire fence, and into the jaws of hell before being kicked in the seat of the pants by a Missouri mule and thrown into a manure pile to rot.

It immediately made me think of a certain person who done me wrong. Ohhh, what a blissful image that makes...cannon...barbed wire...hell...manure.

I'm generally not one for revenge, but I do enjoy thinking about it at times. I'm too much of a coward to actually get even, but hey, I'm half Italian, so the vendetta is in my blood.

I'm a tool

Let's see how many bandwagons I can jump onto this week. First I start a blog -- oh, so original -- and now I'm an iPoddin' fool. Well, truth be told, I've had an iPod since mid-December. My parents wanted to recognize an educational/professional achievement (my inexplicably passing the bar exam) with an electronic gadget of my choosing. A BlackBerry was considered, but I decided I'd get more entertainment from an iPod. However, it and the array of accessories my parents generously added to the gift package have been lying dormant in a box at home for two months now. Why? Because, twisted as this is, my home computer -- a Mac, mind you -- is incompatible with the iPod. Even the computer guy at work found this inconceivable. But the iPod requires OSX, and my iBook, Yoda, has OS9. He also has too little memory to run OSX, so I'd have to buy more memory and the OSX software to try to bring him up to speed.

So I decided I'd just run my iPod at work. Others do. However, my work computer's USB ports are out of whack. I'm supposedly getting a new work computer soon, but not soon enough for my urgent mobile-listening needs, so a friend has loaded my lil' iPod with some files from her iTunes for the time being. I can start over when I'm in possession of a computer with which the iPod will work. Ain't technology grand?

I think my obnoxiousness level is reaching intolerable heights: blogging, iPodding, getting a new car (soon), traveling to exotic destinations...all while whining about having a cold. And receiving copious amounts of Valentine's Day chocolate. I hate me.

You're invited to a pity party

Yesterday I woke up with a sore throat, and today it seems to be a full-blown cold. Various combinations of Nyquil, Dayquil, ibuprofen and cough drops are only minimally remedial. We're blaming this on the Dude and his sinuses and allergies, because it's convenient and at least potentially accurate. (By the way, the other evening the Dude used the G-word when referring to me so I guess that answers that question.)

Most people who know me know that at times I'm a champion whiner, rivaled only by Randy in A Christmas Story. This is one of those times. I am feeling so sorry for myself today; not only do I have a totaled car on my hands but now a cold, one week before I'm slated to fly to the other side of the globe to enjoy summer in February. I know...boo-freakin'-hoo. Oh, woe is me.

P.S. To clear up any concerns re my previous post -- no, I was not injured in the car accident. This is the second Ford I've totaled and the second time I've walked away without a scratch. But did I mention I have a cold? Wah.

Alas, poor Rosie...I knew her, Horatio

More than simply a mode of transportation, she was a faithful companion and comrade for six years and just shy of 70,000 miles. Three cross-country treks, countless cross-northeast jaunts and none the worse for wear, she is being laid to rest after her driver (I won't say "owner," for who can own the stars?) turned left prematurely and exposed her to oncoming vehicles, one of which did strike and strike hard.

RIP, Rosie.

Happy Valentine's Day

"This Feb. 14th on the Western infidels' calendar, may all Americans receive no valentines from their beloved ones," bin Laden said. "May the homemade construction-paper mailboxes taped to the desks of the American schoolchildren remain empty, as well. May whomever you ask to 'bee yours' tell you to 'buzz off.'"

A recent classic from The Onion.

Coen, Coen, gone

As you might glean from my inaugural post (and indeed, from the title of this blog), I've been on a Coen Brothers bender of late. Although I've yet to experience all the titles in their oeuvre, I'll get there. My significant other (Don't you hate that period when it seems like an understatement to call him "the guy I'm dating" but it's premature to use the B-word? We'll just call him the Dude.) and I find them to be excellent date movies and so have watched three of them in the last two weeks. After the latest (Fargo, yesterday, when the snow accumulation outside pretty closely resembled that in the film), the Dude commented that soon the Coen Brothers can and will make a movie starring only their usual suspects. And what a fine film that will be.

Setting the tone

According to the "Which Big Lebowski character are you?" quiz:

Why don't you check it out? Or we cut off your Johnson!