yesterday's entry about the best name for a ska band dislodged an ancient hunk to debris from my mind today that's about 7 years old. i recalled hearing about a band that i feel is truly the best musical moniker ever, be it ska, jazz, or rockabilly...Too Fat to Skate. just try and tell me you wouldn't love to hear the croonings of the minds that invented that.

and, spooky halloween to you all.

miguel was over during the weekend putting the finishing touches on the secret cajun band site. i had commented that i thought the same people who name ska bands (alcoskalics, skatalites, skarlatines, alaska and so on) were the same people who named pornographic films (tool of the nile, for your thighs only, forrest hump, romancing the bone and so on). he said the band would on occassion try to come up with the quintessential ska band name. it was dogger in the end who coined what would be considered by all to be the alpha option. all i know is that i'd stand in line in the rain, on a work night and deathly ill to obtain a ticket to see a band named Malcom Skamal Warner.

I'm done with microsoft. One too many virus alerts, unrecoverable windows errors and misleading (outright untruthful) marketing campaigns. Few people recognize that this company has not made any significant changes to their suite of applications, outside of tweaking the interfaces, since the release of Windows 95.

My exodus began after acquiring a dated apple computer about six months ago. The machine is 10 years old and with $300 worth of upgrades the box outperforms my greatly beefed up intel machine running bill's latest and greatest os. Since this not modest discovery I began eyeing apple's line of products. Obviously, I drifted towards their high end laptops but they were simply too costly to justify as a third computer. Until a few weeks ago when they released their new line of chips and the $3500 model plummeted to a more respectable $2100. As I like to say in regard to such matters, they're giving them away.

Since ordering my titanium badboy nine days ago, I've visited their order status page about 4 times a day only to be met with a Being Assembled notice. Apple, I need my machine and I need it now. Please complete me.

I recently learned that one should never take a date to an amusement park. I haven't seen a more date-hostile environment since Sheila Michaels took me to a canceled Agent Orange concert than what we experienced on our recent boondoggle to Cedar Point where I witnessed not one, but two highly vicious and very public scraps between young couples.

In each case it was the girl who was ma...

I had a rare day yesterday.

I got caught and subsequently drenched in a rainstorm destroying my umbrella while walking home from the metro.

I had three flights to Cincinnati canceled due to the same storm that soaked me hours earlier.

Because of these negated flights, I had to drive 350 miles to attend a meeting, leaving St. Louis at 5pm.

I spent an hour trying to rent a car because the agency just couldn't get their arms around a one way trip.

I got pinned in a traffic jam because a semi hit an overpass and exploded (no embellishment).

And, I almost missed my morning meeting the next day because I couldn't find my car key which was later discovered to be dangling from the driver's side door lock.

So after all of this you know what I was thinking? I'm thankful that I didn't get struck by lighting. I'm thankful that airlines don't take their passengers lives lightly. I'm thankful that I live in a country where I can, at a moments notice, drive through four states without applying for permission. I'm thankful that our capitalist society allows me to temporarily rent an automobile. I'm thankful that I was not driving the truck that turned fireball. I'm thankful the wrong person didn't happen upon my car with the key hanging in the door. And I'm thankful that I can wake up in the morning even if only to experience a day as shitty as that. And, that is what I was and am thinking.

Doctor Stevie stopped in town last night on his way to San Francisco. He claims to be going to a medical conference on infectious diseases, but he looks rather suspicious about it all.

In a conversation between he, Marty and I, the term PDA came up in reference to a young couple. I admitted to not understanding the meaning of this inference. They looked at each other in that 'are you kidding me kind of way' and explained that it stood for "Public Display of Affection." Thinking they were joking I asked what it really meant and after exchanging sideways looks again, the mocking began. What do you think it means, personal digital assistant, they asked. Well yes, I replied. They then informed me that I shouldn't wear my dork badge so loudly on my sleeve. A lot they know, we carry them in our wallet.

Below you will find the girls from my childhood tv days I thought about most listed in their order of lustability. Well, not exactly lust, in that this does not speak to the psychological or special bond any of these ladies and myself would have shared if only given the opportunity. I understood them in a way those fools they were forced to interact with could not. But, in each of these cases, the distance would prove too great, since I couldn't drive, and as we all know, long distance relationship are just hard.

1. Allison from Double Trouble
2. Samantha from Gimme a Break
3. Mallory from Family ties
4. Samantha from Who's the Boss
5. Denise from The Cosby Show

I received the following page the other day in reference to my 09.25.2001 post: Friends don't let other friends pummel this friend.

I found myself in a pretty haughty bidding war the other day on ebay. Some guy named kansasclodhopper just wouldn't let my item go. But, on his behalf, he doesn't know me or my consumption neurosis. Because if he did, he would know that when I see something I need/want/desire, it must be mine, at any cost. And, while I ended up dropping twice what I should have for the product (thanks to clodhopper) the seller made a grave mistake in this auction. I e-mailed him earlier in the week asking him to name a price that he wanted for the item and I would gladly pay it that day. This speaks to another issue I sport that smells an awful lot like immediate gratification. So anyway, the seller did not respond but had he taken the time to submit a price that was even twice the double amount I'm already paying, I would have paid it, gladly and promptly, just so I could be looking at the item right now instead of writing about a victorious bidding war.

At last! Today these signs mysteriously popped up beneath the elevator buttons in my building. What I like most about the message is the duplicitous inference that can be made by the wording. Does "For your health..." imply that the exercise will serve you well physically or that if you don't take heed we will kick the living hell out of you for being such a lazy waste of mass.

And truly, the funniest thing about this landmark event is that I've been at the company long enough to know that an entire think-tank and approval process was put in place to craft and post these few words.

Marty made the observation that dating is better when you don't live with the person you're going out with. When I asked why she felt this way, she responded:

"Because, I then wouldn't have to watch my date walk into the bathroom and pull the boxers he's going to wear out of the dirty clothes hamper."

I must admit I don't get her point.

Walt and I went on our first dinner and show combination since Bella arrived seven months ago. The dinner was reminiscent of an earlier time in our life. And, I learned that I'm not yet very astute in my new mission to eat healthier. We went to this sloppy burger place, Blueberry Hill, that is known for it's sloppy burgers. I ordered blackened red snapper, a new item on their menu and am confident that it will be a newly removed item before long. Marty advised me that ordering gourmet food from sloppy burger place is ill-advised. Point and indigestion taken.

For the entertainment portion of the evening we strolled down the way to the Pageant to see Margaret Cho, of All-American Girl fame. It would seem that Cho has fallen off my radar for too long, or that I was pretty thick when I first discovered her many years back. I was not aware that she is now more publicly championing the gay rights cause. This translates to Marty's observation at the concert that we may be the only straight couple in the house. I contemplated the impact this may have on her material but soon felt that she crafted the show especially for me. Her first bit dealt with colon hydra-therapy which she reports to be all the rage in california. I've always said you can't go wrong with rectum or rectum related humor given its universal applicability. She next launched into a 15 minute routine dealing with menstruation, specifically the implications that could be assumed if men experienced the monthly visitor. As I said, a show specially catered for me.

In the end, I don't know that I would send many people to this show. She definitely pulled some guffaws from Walt and I, particularly from her various personas, but there is a toll. For one, the opening act was this huge black cross-dresser who's whole bit revolved around some guy he yanked from the audience, garnished his feet with cherries, syrup and whip cream and then licked it from between the poor lads toes. Then he ... walked off the stage ... meaning, that was it. One might say he is the antithesis of carlin, miller, seinfeld and most other humans.

So Cho at your own risk but it was nice to meet my wife again.

I shower naked. I also sleep naked and I'm naked when first getting dressed. I talked with a guy recently who is never naked (except in the shower which really doesn't count). I mean this guy is single, lives alone and he gets dressed in the bathroom after bathing. Now perhaps it's just that my body has never acclimated to the St Louis humidity or that I'm in constant denial about our clothes conscious society, but I like to air the parts out every now and again, you know walk around and pick up the house, watch a sitcom, read a book, everything but fry bacon. It's liberating. Therapeutic if you will.

In fact, in my old third story apartment I felt immune to gazing passerby's and was nude as much as not. The only people who had any kind of view into my place was the third story apartment across the way. And, as I recall the only time this was an issue was one night when I was standing in the dining room reading an entertainment weekly, naked, and looked up and discovered my neighbor, his girlfriend and two dinner guest all turned in their seats or craning their heads around and looking at me from their dining room. Now one would think that either they or I would break the gaze to diffuse the oddish moment, but no one did. We all held each others eye, or at least I think eye, for about 30 seconds until I finally turned the page of my magazine and slowly walked into the living room to finish my article while lazing on the futon. Being a fan of memorable moments, I like to think that they, as I, remember that unique isntance still today.

Excerpt from Victor Hugo's Les Miserables

I go to my barber every 10 to 14 days. When I ask other people how often they go, most report between four and six weeks. Learning this I asked my barber, Larry Evilsizor, if he saw anyone more than me. He claimed he had a guy that was close but thinks I squeak him out since I don't always make it a full two weeks.

Our local hipster paper, The Riverfront Times, recently named Larry as The Best Place to Get a Regular Haircut in Saint Louis. In that I've seen Larry every two weeks for nine years now, this was not news to me. But I am glad to see him finally receive the unexaggerated adulation he absolutely deserves.

In hearing this it occurred to me that if Larry is the best barber in Saint Louis and I am his best customer, should the Riverfront Times not run an article on the Best Customer of the Best Place to Get a Regular Haircut.

As an added note, the last time I saw Larry he told me that he would have to start running the clippers along my ears before long. I asked what that even meant and he explained that as men get older darkish, thickish and noticible hairs begin sprouting on the ear. Disturbed, I consulted my close friend bookguy on the matter. His response, "That's about the scariest shit he could ever say to me."

in that i'm now married at the hip to st louis, i regularly partake in the excercise of defining positive things about living here. number seven on the list of why it's good to reside in a depressed and blighted city is that going to un-addled cities has much more appeal and benefit as can be seen in my latest photo essay on the twin cities.

Do you know what today is? Today is the 978th day that I've boycotted the movie Titantic. And, if there was an inkling of weakness in me, Pearl Harbor restored my resolve.

In a conversation with my mother recently Marty learned that if my mother's family was starving she very well may sleep with another man for a ride to the supermarket. Not even for food. Just a ride to the market.

My mom rules.

See Rat Race.