I hired a bunch of undocumented elves to keep up my blog over the holidays, and I see that nothing has been done here.
Or: La Reina and I were abducted while watching re-runs of The X-Files. David Duchovny was on the mother-ship, and he turned out to be the leader of the replicants! We just escaped a few days ago, and I've been listening to Eric Dolphy for 72-hours straight, trying to get my head back on straight. Literally. They seem to have done some experiments, and my head was tilted at a weird angle, so that it was really hard to blog.
Or: I ate too much Lasagna on Christmas Day and fell into a deep, deep sleep from which I've just awoken. (As a matter of fact, the Christmas tree is still up and gleefully lit, and I'm listening to the Sinatra Christmas Album.)
(That's really scary, isn't it?)
(That's really scary, isn't it?)
Or: The New York Jets playoff loss to the New England Fascist Baby-Killing Grandmother-Hating Un-American Culturally-Backwards Fur-Wearing SUV-Driving Britney-Spears-Loving "Patriots" upset me so much that I've been unable to blog.
Or: The troop surge has depressed me so much that I can hardly lift my fingers to tap in a few lines on my blog, knowing all efforts to try and stop the madness are useless. (Even so, contact your congresspeople and tell them how you feel.)
(About the troop surge, I mean, not how you feel about life in general.)
Or: My New Year's Resolution to not blog unless I had something really inspired and unique to say was going hunky-dora until a few minutes ago, when it all fell apart in a desperate urge to use the phrase "hunky-dora," which, BTW, goes back to at least the 1860s, when it was used a lot in New York newspapers of the day. (Along with the phrase "deadheads," which, at that time, referred to people who weaseled their way into concerts and shows without paying, i.e., the media.)
Or: The precarious balance between my incredible laziness and my sick but powerful need for attention was out of whack for a while. But I'm okay now.
Hope everyone had a great holiday season.
Maybe in 2007, I'll even come up with something worthwhile to blog about!
Gratuitous and totally unnecessary photograph of Brigitte Bardot.
Or: The troop surge has depressed me so much that I can hardly lift my fingers to tap in a few lines on my blog, knowing all efforts to try and stop the madness are useless. (Even so, contact your congresspeople and tell them how you feel.)
(About the troop surge, I mean, not how you feel about life in general.)
Or: My New Year's Resolution to not blog unless I had something really inspired and unique to say was going hunky-dora until a few minutes ago, when it all fell apart in a desperate urge to use the phrase "hunky-dora," which, BTW, goes back to at least the 1860s, when it was used a lot in New York newspapers of the day. (Along with the phrase "deadheads," which, at that time, referred to people who weaseled their way into concerts and shows without paying, i.e., the media.)
Or: The precarious balance between my incredible laziness and my sick but powerful need for attention was out of whack for a while. But I'm okay now.
Hope everyone had a great holiday season.
Maybe in 2007, I'll even come up with something worthwhile to blog about!
Gratuitous and totally unnecessary photograph of Brigitte Bardot.
7 comments:
See what happens when you outsource your blog to someone else? It doesn’t get done. If you want something done right, you’ve gotta do it yourself. In the immortal words of Tony Montana (Scarface), “Who put this thing together? Me, that's who! Who do I trust? Me, that's who!...”
Or: I ate too much Lasagna on Christmas Day and fell into a deep, deep sleep from which I've just awoken.
Hey, lasagana on Christmas, now you’re talking. Did you steal one of our Christmas traditions?
Or: The New York Jets playoff loss to the New England Fascist Baby-Killing Grandmother-Hating Un-American Culturally-Backwards Fur-Wearing SUV-Driving Britney-Spears-Loving "Patriots" upset me so much that I've been unable to blog.
Well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say I “love” Britney Spears... Ah, the good old days… It was so much more fun in the old days when those red-shirted “Patsies” were the doormats of the league, wasn’t it? Besides, what did those Boston people know from football anyhow?
Or: The troop surge has depressed me so much that I can hardly lift my fingers to tap in a few lines on my blog, knowing all efforts to try and stop the madness are useless…
You worry too much. See, I’m sitting here leafing through my copy of theConstitution, and just as soon as I find the part with the article that describes the functions and duties of the “Decider”, I’ll shoot you a note and let you know why you shouldn’t be concerned. See you Tuesday…
"hunky-dora," which, BTW, goes back to at least the 1860s, when it was used a lot in New York newspapers of the day.
Is that a fact? What’s the origin of it? I always thought it was “hunky-dorey”, but maybe that’s just my Boston accent. Ken Burns should have thrown that into his epic PBS Civil War documetary… “General McClellan’s march up the Rappahanock in the sleet and mud is just going hunky-dora” – George Templeton Strong (cue the violin music - again)
Or: The precarious balance between my incredible laziness and my sick but powerful need for attention was out of whack for a while. But I'm okay now.
Glad to hear your equilibrium is back to normal. Good to see you back.
Thanks, btw, for the gratuitous photo of Bridgette. It’s the prettiest thing you’ve put up on your blog since Veronica Lake (with the notable exception of La Reina, of course).
Jeff,
I kept forgetting to tell you (see what happens when playoffs begin!) - yes, we did lasagna on Christmas, thanks to you! Funny thing, we went to the supermarket on Saturday morning, thinking that would be fine to get ingredients for lasagna. But no. They were out of every single brand. I asked a kid who worked there if they had any in the back and he said, "Nah, it's all gone." Then, as we stood there trying to figure out what to do, he comes back down the aisle with two boxes. Someone had left them on another aisle - did we want them? So we learned without a doubt that, yes, there are a few Italians on Long Island. Hadn't thought of the consequences at Christmas until then. That and Midnight Mass was jam-packed.
Well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say I “love” Britney Spears...
Yeah, right. Your coach and that horrid grey sweatshirt. I can just tell he's into Britney. :-)
I wrote all that especially for you, btw. Next year, buddy. Next year.
What’s the origin of it? I always thought it was “hunky-dorey”
It's hunky-dory now, but in the early 1860s they were using hunky-dora. Interestingly, the Oxford English Dictionary says "dory" is "of unknown origin" and they only go back to 1866, but I've seen it in the New York papers from before that. Might have to write them.
“General McClellan’s march up the Rappahanock in the sleet and mud is just going hunky-dora” – George Templeton Strong (cue the violin music - again)
Excellent. If you knew how much I have to deal with GTS, you'd know how much I appreciate your humor.
Glad you liked the Bardot photo. To quote the title of her most famous film - "And God Created Woman." Yes, He most certainly did.
Hunky-dory OR hunky-dorey, I should have said.
Nice to have you back.
Immediately inform us if you find an 1860's use of the word "groovy."
He's alive! :-)
Liam,
1882 Railway News 12 Aug. 245/1: "Railway managers are apt..to get a little ‘groovy’."
Crystal,
Hi. Thanks for your earlier message. My aunt seems to be doing well. We'll know more after next Tuesday, when she has another CAT scan. Thank you for asking.
Damn pot-smoking, jazz-listening railway managers.
I tagged you for a meme.
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