Hodgepodge-O-Rama

Usually the titles of posts come to me. They may take a little thinking, but I can usually come up with something. Lately, it’s been a whole different story. It’s like I’ve finally killed the subject/headline writing part of my brain with all the beer and wine.

Or maybe it’s all the PRESSURE! from the Match.com email subject lines. Do people even read subject lines? What? NO! No one wrote me back yet. (Yes, shut up. I know it’s been like less than 24 hours. Remember the shoes???)

Anyway, I have all these notes in my handy, dandy blog notebook and none of them (NONE I tell you!) are stand-alone posts. So welcome to Hodgepodge-O-Rama! Contestant number one, come on down.

(No, I don’t plan on making this into a game show. But doesn’t it sound like a Game Show? And so fitting, since I watch GSN way too much?) (And I would totally KILL on Hodgepodge-O-Rama. If only because I know a whole plethora of stupid shit.)

(Actually, it should probably be Bullet-O-Rama or something. Since bulletpoints = unrealted thoughts thrown together to make a post. (In the Blogger’s Reference Guide at least.) But then y’all might think you’re getting shot at. And no one needs that.) (I’d totally KILL at that game too (totally pun intended) “What is 9mm Glock, Alex.”)

Anyway! On with the show!

• I should actually write it exactly how I write it down in my notes. Because then I would guarantee no readers ever again. “What the fuck is that crazy cat lady talking about over there? Is there a type of blog psych ward we can check her in to?”
• So last week during the conference, we were out as a group at Dave & Busters. As we were busing it back to the hotel (I’d fill in the other lyrics to that song, but sadly that’s all I know) we had some really good thunderstorms. And these people were mesmerized. The one guy wanted a storm. A really bad one. Tons of lightning. Tons of thunder. He got it. He didn’t need free booze. He would have been fine with a lawn chair to set up outside the hotel. And maybe a kite.
• But it got me thinking. Because when I lived on the Left Coast (that’s so lame. I can’t believe I typed that) one thing I missed was thunderstorms. I got my fair share of rain in Northern California, but very, very rarely would there be thunder or lightning. And let’s face it, thunderstorms rule.
• One of the questions on the Match profile is if thunderstorms are a turn-on. (Yes.)
• My cats would offer a differing opinion. (Hell to the no!)
• I’m now realizing that 95% of what I write down as blog notes is useless drivel.
• My mom told me a story about a 90-year old woman with a WALKER at a church carnival getting carded in the beer tent. I hear she died on the spot from a heart attack. From the SHOCK!
• Seriously. Find me a 90-year old that looks 35 and I’ll alter my stance. But I’m pretty sure she LOOKS OLD ENOUGH.
• This is why I don’t go to church.
• So my friend Michelle and I went out Friday night to have a few glasses gallons of wine. We ran into a guy who was discussing his plans for later in the evening with a buddy on the phone. He was almost yelling at his friend to make sure to get the Jefferson Ice! Because it’s precision cut, fool! He doesn’t like to drink beverages with that crappy old regular ice from 7-Eleven. PRECISION CUT! What the fuck? I’d be more concerned about what your buddy is going to put in your glass with your PRECISION CUT ice.
• Even better? We overheard the Ice Man telling his hot friend that he recently broke up with some chick because she was too OCD. I’ll let that sink in for a second before moving on.
• Maybe I’m OK with being a spinster.
• Sometimes when I chew gum, my tongue gets all weird. Almost feels fuzzy. Yeah, I don’t know.
• I’m not sure why, but I still love that “Hey There Delilah” song by The Plain White T’s.
• I realized that part of this funk I’ve been in can be blog-related at times. When I’m not feeling the creative juices and write complete shit (the non-Cheers George Wendt stories, for example), I, in turn, feel like shit. My blog is like the one constant in my life and one thing that I love to do and that I will risk sleep, etc. for. When I don’t blog (or when I write craptastic blogs) it doesn’t make me feel good. Good thing a little Young MC lyrics could get me right back on track yesterday.
• There’s a note in here that says “Lot F D5.” Oh wait, that’s where I parked at O’Hare.
• There’s another note “paper cuts.” Hmmm. Oh! That was from that conference out in the burbs. And I was going to say something like “wow, you don’t realize how many paper cuts you get in a week until you go to squeeze an orange into your Blue Moon.” It was funny at the time.
• Lindsay Lohan is a fucking idiot. And I don’t feel bad. HIRE A DRIVER!
• Bacon’s been a little neglected so I figured I should ask his opinion if it’s time to end this post.
• Bacon said “Sizzzzzzzle.”
• Fo shizzle, Bacon, fo shizzle.