Merry f'ing Christmas

Well, Christmas got here quick this year. We've been back in Alabama for a little over six weeks now, and we still haven't seen the majority of our friends. So if you're awaiting a present or just our smiling faces, it might have to wait a few extra days. Doh, sorry.

I don't think I've mentioned it in the blog before, but I've become a die-hard fan of the Ron and Fez Show. They're very different from all of the "shock jock" DJ's out there -- it's just a couple of buddies hanging out in the studio, talking about the same kind of shit I talk about with my friends, and occasionally torturing their dumbass producer. It's definitely something that takes some getting used to (I actually hated them the first few weeks they debuted on XM), but I'd recommend checking it out. Their sense of humor is morbidly sarcastic, and it's a more intelligent show than anything else I've ever heard on the radio. If you don't get XM (and what's wrong with you?), they're also on FreeFM nightly at 6pm Eastern. There's a live stream over here.

Hooray for Patrick Swayze!

I had a rockin' birthday yesterday.

Hillary and I finally kicked enough of our respective illnesses to venture out and see our friends Bill and Dawn in the evening. Bill made a delicious butternut squash bisque, and we had some homemade... well, let's just call them beef stew Hot Pockets. Very, very tasty.

After dinner, we watched the MST3k version of "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians" (our new holiday tradition) and ate birthday cake. Hillary discovered the joys of the "lovesleep", drifting off a few times during the movie. I also got to reexamine the Venture Brothers, which I had written off after the first episode -- it wasn't too bad, and is probably funnier if you know the characters. I may give it another try.

Booty for the day included a copy of Viva Pinata, the Jones Soda dessert pack (not to be confused with the stomach-churning Holiday Pack), the new John Grisham book (shut up, sometimes I like dumb mass-fiction, okay?), and a cool puzzle-a-day calendar.

Somehow I've wrangled a bunch of phone interviews and stuff this week. I'm supposed to drive down to Birmingham to meet with a recruiter about a position there, and I've had people as far away as Mobile and Sarasota, Florida calling me about jobs. Kind of surprising since it's the week before Christmas, but it's a very good sign that my resume is out there. Hopefully we'll be able to get out of here (the house, maybe not the area) in January.

So... sick....

Everyone in the house has a cold. I think I got it worst of all. I could barely sleep last night, and I've been terribly achy for about a day now.

I'm just going to stay indoors and try not to let it become the wonderful, ribcage cartilige-snapping bronchitis that my cold last winter turned into. Shouldn't be hard, given that I won't be walking around in six inches of snow or flying to fucking Cleveland this year.

Sorry to anyone I had mentioned getting together with this weekend. No hockey games for me, either. That makes Whitey a sad panda.

Oh well, time to go drown my pains in a huge flood of NyQuil. See you next Thursday.

Go go driving mode

I flipped open my cellphone, and somehow it got into driving mode. I was greeted with the cold, robotic female voice of Verizon:

"Please say a command."
"Fuck off."
"Please say a name."
"Shit."
"Would you like to call... RI-CHARD?"
"Uh... "

My sincerest regrets if you got a mysterious one-ring call at midnight, Richard.