Stop the insanity!
Man, did I ever come up yesterday for my birthday. My virtual cup literally ran over with presents, weblog posts, message board threads, e-cards, emails, and instant messages wishing me well on the anniversary of my birth. It was almost overwhelming. Well, actually, I was overwhelmed, to the point where there's no way I could write all of you back to thank you. So please consider this my big thanks to all of you for thinking of me yesterday. Now turn off your computer and go outside or something.
Oh, and if you sent me an actual present, you will be getting a thank you note. So don't trip.
So Barry Bonds didn't start last night in Montreal, but that didn't stop him from hitting the game-winning home run — his 55th of the season. Here's SportsLine's home-run tracker if you're interested, which projects him to hit exactly 70 this season. But will he see enough pitches to even get close?
Barry's already been walked 128 times through 155 games, and while he may not come close to breaking the Babe's record of 190 bases on balls in a season, managers are pitching around him enough that it might cost him the record. God bless Giants GM Brian Sabean for bringing in Andres Galarraga and John Vander Wal to protect Bonds in the lineup. If he does get close to 70, it'll be those guys he has to thank for it.
I guess that's all I got. Not a lot planned for the weekend: maybe a new radio show, but maybe not. Chillin' with the wife, babysitting my bad-ass nephew, a band practice, and catching up on my DVD watching. Sounds like heaven to me. Enjoy. ßßß
It's my birthday, it's my birthday.
This morning is one of those rare and wonderful San Francisco summer mornings, crisp and cool but not cold. Maybe it's always like this. Maybe it's just that I got a full night's rest, and I just noticed it today. At any rate, it was rad.
So, the 33rd anniversary of my birth. This was how old Jesus was when he died. So I guess if I were the son of God I'd know about it by now, huh? Well, so much for that career choice.
I already got the super-rad camera mentioned below from the wife, and my Mom sent me a bunch of boxes as well. And called me at 6 AM to wish me a happy birthday. Not really sure what she was thinking there, but I imagine the presents willl more than make up for it.
So I watched a lot of soft-core porn last night, also known as Bring It On and the Miss Teen USA pageant. "Bring It On" was actually strangely intriguing. Not so much like a car wreck I couldn't avert my eyes from, but more like a bad Bollywood musical I couldn't avert my eyes from. Lots of montages and shit. But Miss Teen USA was more than I could handle. It's a good thing that Family Guy came on and made me forget the whole sad episode.
I thought I was going to die from laughter at one point. Seriously. I could not breathe because I was laughing so hard. It was a beautiful thing. Now that Six Feet Under is gone, Family Guy is the only thing on TV worth watching. I pity the fool who missed it. ßßß
If you can read this, you're too close.
I'm staging a "bless you" boycott.
You are hereby given notice that I will not be blessing you if you sneeze, and I will not thank you if you bless me. Because come on, have you really done anything for me? Not really, no. So, therefore, no "thank you" is warranted.
No one's going to steal my soul when I sneeze, my heart hasn't stopped, and I probably don't have the bubonic plague, so just save it, OK? Don't do me any favors. Word.
My boss's last day was yesterday. She was beyond cool. She hired me against the advice of her boss, and probably against her own better judgment, but I'd like to think that I've vindicated her somewhat. She's far and away the best boss I've ever had, if only because she didn't micromanage me. She let me do my thing and I delivered, most of the time. It made for a very nice arrangement.
They're interviewing replacements now, which is really weird. The evil you know, which in this case was very, very minimal, is always better than the evil you don't know. I mean, is this new guy/girl/cyborg gonna be hip to me spending a half-hour doing a weblog every morning? Dunno. We'll see, I guess.
We fear change. ßßß
Title TBD
It's official: I am obsessed with my lovely digital camera. I stayed up way too late taking bad pictures and manipulating them beyond recognition in Photoshop. And the pics still suck really bad. But I love them all the same. Anyone got good resources for digital photography neophytes? Please advise. Thank you.
I'd like to add some errata to my list of things that make me absolutely insane at the gym:
This girl was attacked by an alligator and survived. But I don't think you can blame the gator in this case. It's her own damn fault for so closely resembling the animal's natural prey.
Go see Ghost World at your first conceivable opportunity. It's easily the best movie I've seen this year. And if you'd like a snazzy new look for your 1024 x 768 desktop, click here. ßßß
Boys, their toys, et alia.
The very latest. [Round 1 | Round 2]
For some reason, sitting number three was a piece of cake compared to the previous two. There are a number of theories about this:
And this, gentle reader, is my new best friend: the HP 618. An early birfday gift from my lovely wife (actual b-day is Thursday, still plenty of time to get me something from my wishlist), this thing rocks the freaking house. Get ready for lots of bad, super-emo photos to grace the pages of your usually image-free blawg. ... ßßß
Don't miss last week's brilliant insight.
