I Ain't Blue

So sez Bonnie on this gorgeous Sunday morning (fer me, prolly afternoon fer you):

All is right with the world today... we're taking our coffee on the verandah clad only in a tee shirt, checkin' out stuff on the laptop, casually smokin' an Isla del Sol Churchill, and gettin' ourselves in a proper frame o' mind to watch the Beloved Wings beat down the insufferable 'Hawks in about ten or fifteen minutes.

It DON'T get no better than this, Gentle Reader.

Another o' Life's Lil Mysteries

I guess I gotta go buy new slippers, eh?

One wonders exactly how thangs like this happen.  By that I mean the left slipper is fallin' right apart, with three MAJOR holes in it, while the right slipper is completely intact, with nothing so much as a tear or anythang.  Lotsa scuffs, though.  I suppose I shouldn't complain, coz these slippers lasted me for well over 20 years.  Seriously.  Here's me wearin' those same slippers, back in 1990:

Christmas, 1990.  Ferndale, Michigan.

I just KNOW I'm not gonna be able to find exactly what I want, once I start lookin'.  I think I'll begin with LL Bean, though... which is where the current slippers came from.

―:☺:― 

Semi-mysterious...  I mentioned this past Thursday that we had the windows and door (singular, there's but one) open yet again on what was another nice day (for winter) here on The High Plains o' New Mexico.  What I didn't mention is the fact I turn the furnace off on these sorts o' days to keep from heating all o' P-Ville while I'm out on the verandah.  So, I mosey over to the thermostat to turn off the heater and what do I see?  The heat is off, already.  And why is this noteworthy?  The last time we had a day like Thursday was the previous Sunday, so that means I went for the better part o' a week without my furnace bein' turned on.  This apartment must be a whole hella lot better-insulated than I give it credit fer bein', mainly coz we dropped into the high 20s on most nights this past week.

The heat is still off, as we speak.  This will do great thangs for the budget.

Update, later that same day.  Well, the design has changed slightly over the last 20+ years and I do believe the price has gone up, too.  But what hasn't?

My tootsies shall be warm and stylish again in three to five days.  Well... warm, anyhoo.

Hunh?

News item:

China, the world’s most populous nation, is the first country in the world to reach 1 billion mobile subscribers. According to the country’s Ministry of Industry and Information Technology, mobile phone subscriptions in China had reached 997 million by late February, and were expected reach one billion by the end of the month, AllThingsD reported. In 2007, China’s mobile market surpassed 500 million subscribers; if the MIIT’s figures are correct, the market has doubled in the last five years. Out of China’s roughly 1.3 billion citizens, 73.6% of the population own a cell phone. In the United States, cell phone penetration is currently estimated to be approximately 103.9%.

It's not that China has a billion cell phone users... hell, they have 1.3 billion people so having that many cell phone users doesn't stretch credibility.  No, my issue is that 103.9% percent number for the US.  I understand that might mean some people have more than one phone, but still: wouldn't that be 100% penetration and no more?  I used to HATE asshats that told me they wanted a "110% effort" or some other bullshit like that.  You got all o' sumthin'?  That's 100%... you can't get any more than that.

Broadening, Yadda, Yadda XLIII

I did say we're on about Porters of late, didn't I?  Why yes... just yesterday, in fact.  We added a new one to the fridge today: Rogue Brewery's Mocha Porter.  Which looks a lot like this:

The Bros like this one a lot, too, rating the brew "Exceptional."  I'm beginning to think they've yet to meet a Porter they didn't like and there's some small body o' evidence to support that suspicion.  Excerpt:

Just bought a six pack of the stuff, very tasty. I smelled that Rogue aroma from a mile away like a police drug dog sniffing for coke.

Great American porter, nice how they got so close with the chocolate and coffee flavours. I would not mind seeing this beer more often.

Well, we're only half-way through our first one but I tend to agree with Mr. Alström... we'll prolly see more o' this brew as time moves on.  The beer is aptly yclept... that mocha flavor comes shining right through.  Great good stuff, Maynard.

In other beer news... my local beer emporium no longer carries Abita beers and I have complained, mightily.  It turns out that I am NOT alone, as it's not the beer emporium's problem... it's the local distributor who dropped Abita.  Today's beer emporium attendant was very sympathetic as he mentioned that most of the Abita that went out the door was sold to employees... and me.  He added that last to appeal to my vanity, I'm sure, but his point was well-taken.

So... he then says "Well, could I interest you in some Singha?  It's big in Bangkok."  I just smiled and said "I know... but no thanks.  We're into the Porters right now."  As for the knowing... I've prolly put away more Singha, IN Bangkok and the provinces... than that dude's ever seen, given his (relatively) tender years.  But that's one of those "ya hadda be there" kinda stories.

Update, somewhat later:  It occurred to me to question just why the beer guy offered up Singha as an alternative to Abita. I'm wonderin' if it was sumthin' along the lines o' parallelism, especially after I waxed nostalgic about N'Awlins and the great good times I had there in the way-back.  It should be noted that I did NOT wax nostalgic about Bangkok, even though I could have. 

Bangkok and N'Awlins DO have certain similarities... both cities are sultry (as in weather, as well as other areas) sensuous, sinful, friendly, welcoming, and immensely entertaining for the casual visitor, appealing as they do to all five of the senses, not the least of which are the culinary marvels that abound in both places.  The cities could almost be equal, but I'd give the edge to N'Awlins, on two counts: the inherent gentility of the Old South and the architecture.  And Mardi Gras.  Bangkok (and the whole o' Thailand) has its Water Festival, but nuthin' equals Mardi Gras.  I'm not just bein' an America-Firster with that statement... you KNOW, if you've been.

So there's that.  And there's this:

Goring Oxen

An item from the Usual USAF Source:

The Budget Balancing Act at HASC: Of all the items in the Air Force's just-submitted Fiscal 2013 budget proposal, the one that has attracted a bit of heat is the planned cut to the Air National Guard, said Rep. Adam Smith (D-Wash.), House Armed Services Committee ranking member, on Thursday. Smith told reporters in Washington, D.C., that he is having discussions with the Air Force, but has not decided on this issue nor "frankly, many others." Many state governors and adjutants general have already claimed that those cuts to the Air Guard—which would shed force structure and some 5,100 positions—are disproportionately high. Smith said many lawmakers on Capitol Hill are speaking about proposed defense cuts that they don't like, but are also making noise about a $1.3 trillion federal budget deficit. He noted that he's yet to hear anyone on Capitol Hill say, "'Here's where you should cut.'" He added, "That's what we ought to do." (See also Unity Needed and Trading Size for Quality.)

—Marc V. Schanz

Followed by a 'toon from one o' the other Usual Sources:

Hand in glove, no?  Well, not exactly... in that deciding where to cut isn't exactly like continuing to spend, spend, spend.  But it's pretty damned close.  I find it funny that the reflexive reaction o' congressional Dimmocrats is "cut defense" when one is talkin' about trimming the budget but they change their tune when proposed cuts happen in their states or districts.  Republicans, too, for that matter... but at least the GOP doesn't call for wholesale cuts in the DoD budget.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

We returned to our Sensitive Seventies Kinda Guy roots today, what with changin' our station to Joni Mitchell radio... and we were originally thinkin' about posting Lennon's "Watching the Wheels" until we sat down to put this post up and this tune came on...

Halt.  Whoa.  Full-stop.  Van The Man will override anyone, any time, and the fact that this tune... as heard on Pandora... even exists on the Tube O' You was reason enough to change horses in mid-stream.  

So, OK.  This Morrison tune isn't exactly a seventies sorta thang, given it came out in the mid-'80s.  But Van is one of my perennial favorites and the invoker of many, many precious memories.  So there's that.

But that doesn't mean we can't do a two-fer, does it?  So....

People say I'm lazy dreaming my life away
Well they give me all kinds of advice designed to enlighten me
When I tell them that I'm doing fine watching shadows on the wall
Don't you miss the big time boy you're no longer on the ball

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go

And that was what we were really on about today... watching the wheels go round and round.  "Letting go" ain't a piece part o' all this... on the contrary, holding ON to what once was, and shall ever be... is one of our principal objectives.  The watching of wheels is an integral part o' that.

―:☺:―

Another integral part o' wheel-watching... Porters.  We've never posted a post-Happy Hour pic before, opting as we do for the optics of a full glass and such.  But we're changing up today:

I've really been into the Porters of late and pictured above are two of my favorites, both empty, both consumed, both contributing to my overall sense of well-being and satisfaction with our world as it it is today.  Well, that and the 70-degree temps outdoors.  It's another one of those door-and-windows-wide-open sorta days which we're spending, in large part, out on the verandah.

I do believe I'll have another... Beer Me!

MY Kinda Martial Arts!

And I'm just as good... if not better... than these guys.

h/t: Occasional Correspondent Lin.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack...

...featured a schlock tune, but it's good (and pertinent) schlock.

I'm thirty three fifty three for a moment
Still the man, but you see I'm of age
A kid on the way
A family on my mind (That was oh-so-true at 53, in my particular case)

{...}

Half time goes by
Suddenly you're wise
Another blink of an eye
Sixty seven is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on

Ah, yes.  My 67th turn around the sun will be completed in less than a month's time, but 100?  That's only a pipe dream.  Each breath comes harder than the last and I'll consider it a gift from The Deity At Hand if I see 70, all things considered.  Still and even: there are nice thoughts in this tune.  I'm not immune to schlock, as long as it's good schlock.

Oooh... Good One! (And a Not-So-Good One)

A lot of us who use Google's services, most especially g-mail, are rather up in arms over their new privacy policy.  Me?  Not so much.  I NEVER put sumthin' on these inter-tubes... even in e-mail... that I wouldn't want my Mom to read.  Or my grandkids.  But I will admit that the folks in the Googleplex DO scare me from time to time.

―:☺:―

Apropos o' not much... my day got off to a lousy start today.  I got to bed around 0530 hrs this morning and was rudely awakened by loud, persistent pounding on my front door at 1000 hrs.  I struggled into some clothes, answered the door, and was surprised to see a P-Ville cop standing there, his squad car parked next to The Green Hornet under the carport.  "Is that yer car?" sez the ossifer, pointing at a Mustang parked in front o' the dumpster at the curb.  "No," sez I, "you're parked next to my car."  "Sorry to disturb you," sez he, "but we don't wanna tow that car unless we have to." 

Too late... the damage was done... so I trundled into the kitchen and made the coffee.  Four and a half hours o' sleep ain't NEARLY enough and the day has been all downhill since.  I'm anticipating a rather longish nap after Happy Hour.

Out Take, Part Deux

A couple o' interesting thangs happened this past weekend... aside from me goin' green... one o' which was me bein' graced with an impromptu visit from the pastor o' the church next door.  Yeah, I live next door to a church, which makes me wonder if they shouldn't have their insurance coverage re-evaluated coz... well, just be-coz.  The possibility o' lightning strikes on their building have prolly increased exponentially since I moved in, but we digress.

So... said pastor pressed a couple o' flyers into my reluctant hands on Saturday afternoon and we exchanged pleasantries for a moment or six, at which time he noticed my USS Mason ball cap and inquired if I'd been to Viet Nam, seein' as how he and I are "of a certain age."  We exchanged military stories and I learned he had been an Army helicopter crew chief and door gunner during Viet Nam, serving one three-year tour and then mustering out.  Our similarities began and ended right there, as Thailand was the closest I got to Viet Nam during the war, and I was a "lifer."   

The pastor then switched topics and asked if I'd ever attended a Baptist church before.  "Well...no," sez I, adding that I'm not a very religious sort o' person.  I told him that I've lived in a number o' cultures that aren't Christian and that those cultures seemed devout, were generally good and happy places to be, and weren't much different from us (Americans) in ethical and moral respects.  I added that I thought it was just a LITTLE bit presumptuous for anyone to claim any religion knows The Truth, especially those of the Christian persuasion, when two-thirds of the world's population... at least... believe in sumthin' other than Christianity.  I hastened to add that I acknowledged there IS a Supreme Being and my personal issue is I don't know what Her name is, largely based on my experiences with other cultures.

That was the wrong thang to say.  What followed was about a ten minute dissertation on the fact that The Deity At Hand most certainly IS a Him and why his way... said pastor's way... was The Way, which reminded me a LOT of sumthin' like this (start at 2:18, everythang before is just static):

Emphasis on "The Church o' the Presumptuous Assumption," and heavily... at that.  Now I'm not against missionary work and I understand the place it holds in all o' the major religions.  So I listened ... or rather let the pastor run on until he was outta breath and outta biblical quotations... at which time I thanked him for his time and wished him well on a lovely Saturday afternoon, which it had been, up until this point in time.  

If there's ONE thang I wish The Deity At Hand would save us from it would be door-to-door proselytizers.  That's mainly coz I don't really NEED to be saved, thank ya very much.  We're doin' just fine, as we speak... thanks be to Athena or whatever Her name is.

Apropos o' Nuthin'

This, from Wunderground:

Speed / Dir

41.4 mph from West

Wind Gust

57.5 mph

There are waves in the water in my toilet bowls, and I shit thee NOT.  It's not nice outdoors. 

Most Interesting

From the comments under this video:

When I first heard of this movie," says John Blundell, "I immediately was a little worried because of Meryl Streep's own ideas and polices and so on that are very distinctly not Thatcherite."

As a longtime Margaret Thatcher ally, few people are in a better position than John Blundell to assess the veracity of the Oscar-nominated bio-pic, The Iron Lady. The former head of influential free-market organizations such as The Institute of Economic Affairs, The Institute for Humane Studies, and the Atlas Economic Research Foundation, Blundell is also the author of Margaret Thatcher: A Portrait of the Iron Lady (2007) and the new Ladies for Liberty: Women Who Made a Difference in American History.

Lady Thatcher is in my "A" rank o' heroes.  I was fortunate enough to witness the impact she had on Britain first hand, as I lived in London from 1980 until mid 1983, when she was Prime Minister.  This short little clip re-emphasizes how important Dame Thatcher was to the UK and further sharpens my desire to go see "The Iron Lady."  I like Ms. Streep a lot, too.

Update:  The complete list o' my heroes, and why.

Heh

Plus Ça Change...

... plus c'est la même chose.  It's just more of the same.  From the NWS in ABQ:

.. High Wind Warning in effect until 6 PM MST this evening...

The National Weather Service in Albuquerque has issued a High Wind Warning... which is in effect until 6 PM MST this evening.

The Wind Advisory is no longer in effect.

* Location... Curry... Roosevelt and the Chaves County plains.

* Winds... west to southwest at 30 to 40 mph with gusts to 60 mph.

* Timing... hazardous winds will continue through sunset. The strongest winds are expected around mid afternoon.

* Visibility... locally reduced to 3 miles or less in blowing dust.

* Local impacts... expect strong cross winds... especially on north to south oriented roads. Loose objects may become airborne. 

Yeah... like my lawn chairs that I had to retrieve from next door when I got up this morning... but at least they stayed here in Portales.  Yesterday was chilly and windy, today it's warm and windy.  C'est la même chose. 

Out Take

I mulled over this subject quite a bit while sittin' out on the verandah yesterday afternoon and wondered how I might could work it up into a blog post without making me look batshit crazy and/or small-minded and petty, or both.  Prolly both.  But we shall try.

First... I was greener than the Grinch beginning on Friday afternoon, all day Saturday, and up to and including noonish yesterday.  Kelly Green.  Bright, frickin' florescent green.  As in jealousy.  Y'know how people use the term "insanely jealous?"  Well, that was me, with emphasis on the insanity part.  I mean, isn't it insane to be possessive and feel jealous over a woman who is just a casual acquaintance, at most?

But there I was.  My neighbor has a long distance relationship going ("I LIKE this one," she sez) and the friend lives in another state,  a five-hour drive from here.  So, he rolls in around 1700 hrs Friday afternoon and neither one o' them emerge from her apartment until sometime around 1300 hrs yesterday.  (Minor digression: the lil girl was off with Dad this weekend, so...)  I KNOW what was goin' on next door, what with the blinds drawn all weekend, the take-away bein' delivered, and all that.  I have many of those reunification tee shirts in my wardrobe, tattered and worn as they may be.  In my Air Force days we used to get a couple days off when we came back from a deployment and I remember not even bothering to get dressed during that post-deployment time on more than a few occasions.  Hell, it was pretty much the same when I returned from an extended bid'niz trip in civilian life, even though I was older and slower then.  So we KNOW, Gentle Reader... yes, we does.  And I ate my heart out, all weekend.

I discussed this situation with SN1 at some length Saturday evening during lulls in the hockey game, with the emphasis on me not understanding the hows and whys o' my feelings.  I was relieved to hear that SN1 had experienced the same sort o' feelings in the way-back and he had no explanation for why he felt that way, either... other than "sometimes it just bees that way."  (Short parenthetical aside: yeah, I DO talk about stuff like this with The Boys.  And I'm glad we can.)

The ending: I just happened to return to the verandah with a refilled coffee cup as they were leaving yesterday... she to work and he for home, one assumes... when the neighbor sees me, flashes a big-ass smile and waves enthusiastically as she pulls away.  I don't believe I've ever seen her happier.  But me?  Not so much, and I have NO idea why.

I suppose it's like Etta sez:

Can't control the feelin'

Coz after all, I didn't make myself

A Couple o' Follow-Ups

First... remember that "World's Largest Rope Swing" vid I posted about ten days back?  Well, here's the back-story, thanks to Occasional Reader CL, who saw the article in the Amarillo paper today and sent it on to me.  You have to read all the way to the end to get to the part that tickled me...

Some viewers questioned in the comment section what Baird’s parents would think of the daredevil act. Baird laughed.

“My mom actually jumped with us,” she said. “1:26 (into the video), that’s my mom. My mom’s kind of a badass, though.”

Yeah, I went back to the vid and looked.  Bad ass, indeed.

―:☺:―

More tales o' great customer service...  Flash back to the tenth of this month, when I posted a couple o' cigar box pics.  So this past Friday I go to the mail box to retrieve about a week's worth o' mail and what do I find?  Two more boxes o' cigars.  We sent this lil missive off to Mr. Tim Blythe at cigar.com shortly after we opened the box...

Hey Tim,

I received an unexpected shipment from y'all today, which was two more boxes of those Isla de Sols I ordered around the first of this month.  The invoice in the box is dated 02/08/2012 and read "replacement for scanning error;"  the invoice total was $0.00.  The shipment prolly came sometime last week but I am notoriously bad about checking my mail... unless I know something is coming.

Anyhoo.  I checked my credit card transaction history and only see one bill from y'all recently, in the amount of $99.90 (on 02/04/2012, IIRC).  I wanna keep these sticks coz (a) I like 'em and (b) they'll keep well in the humidor.  At the same time I don't wanna cheat ya out of a hundred bucks.  The bottom line is I owe ya a hundred bucks.

Best Regards,
bp

Tim replied today with this:

Aw Thanks Buck!  I’ll just charge ya $75 and call it a day.  What’dya think?

Like I told Mr. Blythe:  I'll take it!  I most certainly love doin' bidniz with Tim.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Or: A cultural snapshot of the mid-sixties.

Fer geezers only, obviously, but the person who put the video together did a brilliant job of illustrating the lyrics, dint he?  The tune is from Simon and Garfunkel's seminal album "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme..." which is playin' on the stereo, as we speak.  The post title is actually a misnomer, as we're still drinkin' our morning coffee, on the verandah.  The day is positively brilliant:  we hit the verandah at noon in short sleeves and can see ourselves out there all freakin' DAY.  It's in the mid-sixties, the wind is only a light breeze, and the skies are completely cloud-free.

The house is gettin' aired out, too.  Brilliant!

Wherein We Flog Dead Draft Animals, Yet Again

Said draft animal bein' why hockey is superior to ALL other brands o' professional sports.  A couple o' few excerpts from an article at FoxSports.com:

In a year the NBA’s image was supposed to be napalmed by a prolonged lockout, the league instead salvaged a decent chunk of this season and then stumbled ass-backwards into Linsanity. Knicks guard Jeremy Lin is more than a good underdog basketball story. He has become a cultural phenomenon.
Hockey desperately needs that kind of buzz infusion, and will not get it.

I am going to make a glaring geographical stereotype now as I try to explain why. Hockey is too bleeping Canadian. And Canadians are too bleeping nice.

No, really, they are nice to the point of almost being boring.

There is a reason you do not see "Real Housewives of Montreal" and why hockey players for the most part remain virtually anonymous. Do not bother emailing me about how I am generalizing and how you are offended. I recognize not all of y’all are nice. I am sure there are some real jerkholes up there. Although, off the top of my head, all I can come up with is Nickelback (and their biggest crime is against music) and Sean Avery (of course).

The NHL, to its great detriment, plucks extensively from this frozen tundra of nice — which helps in finding Lady Byng candidates and kills them when trying to sell hockey down here. This is partially why there is no Igin-love.

The rest o' the article focuses on Jerome Iginla, Calgary's captain, star player, and the source of many, many trade rumors.  But we're on about the introduction, which is all about "nice."

OK, there IS a point to be made in that introduction, which basically comes down to hockey players being bona-fide role models our kids can look up to and emulate.  We shall skip further sermonizing about drugs, thugs, and ugly mugs in the other pro sports.  If you've been reading EIP for a while you KNOW this is a recurring (if not frequent) topic o' conversation in these parts.

I do take issue with Ms. Floyd Engel, though.  Hockey might be nice and hockey players might be nice enough when viewed at a macro level.  OTOH, there's this:

That would be Number 24, the deceased Bob Probert (and a one-time hero o' mine), in a fight with Troy Crowder in 1991, during the Golden Age o' The Enforcer.   Bob was a nice guy off the ice but he was a holy terror when you either crossed him or took a run at Stevie.  And then he wasn't so very nice.  

Fighting is a hot topic in and around the NHL right now, mainly because it ain't NICE (and because of the spate o' untimely deaths among enforcers last summer).  But fighting is an integral part of the game and I would miss it if it went away.  I suppose that makes me not nice... but it is what it is.

This Is Good

Not the Auntie YOU might know.  Yeah, it's Brit-centric but it is VERY good:

If this is Saturday, then the first post of the day... and sometimes the only post... comes from the Usual Source for viral vids.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

FYC...

I saw these guys at the Fox theatre in downtown Dee-troit back in the day (It was either '88 or '89... on their tour promoting their one and only Top 40 hit), and it was a fine, fine concert.  The Second Mrs. Pennington and I rocked for DAYS after that concert.  FYC might have (only) been a one-hit wonder, but Boy! that one hit was certainly fine.

So... apropos of everythang... there's a line in this song that fits really well, at the moment:

Happy hour has come and gone
Much too short and much too long

Yup.  We got started early today, and we're already done.  For the time being.

It Worked. Except For When It Didn't.

Well, let's begin with the "it didn't" piece.  You know this already if you're a hockey fan... the Beloved Wings' streak ended at 23.  Those pesky Canucks managed to tie last night's game with a mere 15.4 seconds left on the clock in regulation time and went on to win it in the shootout.  There was no joy in Mudville last evening.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.

Link.

―:☺:―

So, Buck... what, pray tell, did work?  Just this... the most-effective piece o' spam to ever elude g-mail's wonderfully efficient spam filter (a couple o' excerpts):

ODESSA, UKRAINE--(Marketwire - Feb. 24, 2012) - Even though major St. Valentine's legends spawned in Eastern Europe, Cupid's play day is just now hitting its stride as a lover's feast in such places as Russia and Ukraine. In fact, ground zero for Valentine's Day festivities in this part of the world is the mysterious and sensuous Black Sea resort of Odessa, Ukraine, where on Valentine's weekend international online dating leader AnastasiaDate.com invited 23 beauties from across the country to compete for the title Anastasia's Miss Valentine 2012.

Held at exclusive Club Palladium in Odessa's center, the beauty pageant featured 3 stunning rounds...swimsuit, evening gown and Q&A...as part of a Romance Tour Social hosted by AnastasiaDate. Present were dozens of select gentlemen members of Anastasia who experienced a unique dating encounter in the elite company of not only the exquisite contestants, but over 300 single female guests, also members of Anastasia.

All this was folded into what became Odessa's entertainment event of the year amid actors, musicians and singers who performed scenes from popular Ukrainian plays before the heaving international crowd. A sub-zero Arctic freeze notwithstanding, the panel of judges, like kids in candyland, finally chose 21-year-old raven-haired goddess Zina of Odessa as Anastasia's Miss Valentine 2012. While Zina's hot curves and sweet elegance won her top prize, other of Odessa's finest swept the field with breathtaking runners-up, blue-eyed wonder Viktoria and blonde perfection Irina.

This is Anastasia's 3rd St. Valentine pageant on the Black Sea shores, with each event becoming more popular and outstanding, each gathering more audience and media attention. AnastasiaDate, who stages such stirring soirees around the world, by doing so introduces her male members to world class beauties who are also on her global online dating site, making them equally available as romantic partners.

Eastern European dating spam, all gussied up as a press release. Feel free to click on the links... I've already checked them for you and they aren't toxic.  But here's a screen shot from one o' the links, just in case you have a highly developed case o' inter-tubes paranoia:

Dang.  Sultry, eh?  I don't mind spam like this.  At ALL.

―:☺:―

This works, too.  You may recall me mentioning the fact Grandson Sean is a guitar player.  What I might NOT have mentioned is his favorite genre is the Blues.  Based on evidence I received in my in-box late last night I'd say the boy is cultivating a Blues persona... whaddaya think?

**I** think two thangs.  First... he's done his homework, and done it well.  Second... it's a damned good look.  Beats the livin' HELL outta the current droopy-drawers, backwards-baseball-cap look we see every-freakin'-where these days.  Breeding tells.

Weird Stuff You Read In the New York Times

Or weird stuff you MIGHT read in the NYT, if you gave a shit.  Apparently there was this article in Thursday's Times that claims living alone makes you strange.  And the article apparently focused on wimmen, rather than men that live alone.  I didn't actually GO there, choosing to read what Althouse and The Awl had to say on the subject.  Plus the comments at both places, of course.  I liked what The Awl had to say, seein' as how they read between the lines and posted a list of stuff that either makes you weird or contributes to pending strangeness.  Their list (and my comments, in parens):

1) Standing naked in kitchen at 2 a.m. eating peanut butter from jar.  (Been there, done that.  At much earlier times than 0200 hrs, too.) 

2) Singing Journey Rolling Stones songs in (the) shower. (The Awl sez: Especially "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'." That's the jam.  I say EVERY-freakin'-thang Journey ever recorded sucks.  Big time.  The ONLY exception is when the crowd at The Joe joins in on the line "born and raised in SOUTH DEE-TROIT" at hockey games... and that's three bags full o' awesome.  I join in on those occasions.)

3) Working 24 hours straight for days on end.  (Not lately, but I did that when I was single and gainfully employed.)

4) Letting (the) apartment fall apart on you and not washing dishes.  ("Fall apart" is entirely relative.  I wash dishes twice a week, or whenever I run out of coffee cups and/or beer glasses.)

5) Having nobody care.  (I'm not quite sure what this means.  If it means no one really cares about the WAY I live, then yeah... I agree.  Otherwise?  Ya got me.)

6) Wearing specially designated home-wear that you change when company comes over.  (Not applicable, other than lounging around nekkid in the summer.)

7) Not closing the bathroom door. (Awl comment: Well, at least for just peeing.) (My comment: what's the point?  If you're alone, you're ALONE.  Don't you close a door to get privacy?)

8) Talking aloud to pets.  (Did that, too... when I had pets.  Now I talk aloud to myself sometimes.  Well... a lot, actually.)

9) Subsisting largely on cereal, nuts or seeds.  (Yes, occasionally.)

10) Staying up working on computer until 4 or 5 in the morning.  (Working?  No.  Playing?  Yes.)

11) Having a baked potato for a meal.  (Can't say I've ever done that; I rarely use my oven.  But I have eaten an entire bag of potato chips and called that dinner.)

OK... I guess I'm weird by the NYT's standards.  But **I** feel perfectly normal, and that's all that really counts, innit?