Barcelona? Munich? New Jersey? Yes, all of the above.
It’s safe to say that following a two-day whirlwind visit with Eric and Mrs. SWG, complete with more than a couple cocktails, surviving this international foray (which, of course also involved, a goodly amount of “refreshments”) taxed my partying abilities to the max. The clock in the kitchen says 6:15 p.m., but for me it’s after midnight.
Of course, any thoughts of serious blogging I may have had were dashed when I was confronted with six or seven hundred comment spams, which were pouring in over the transom and had had to be dealt with. If you find that you have been “banned,” please let me know, and I will fix it. It’s a fatigue thing.
I trust I will have a bit to say about Barcelona and whatever when my atomic case of jet lag passes.
We had a great time with Eric and Mrs. SWG. Of course, I am currently nursing a rather nasty hangover. The Ambassador of the Blogosphere has returned for another day in NYC before his trip back to Tennessee, where I imagine he will have to decompress from having spent a week in the Northeastern Nuthouse.
Speaking of traveling, I will be away from the keyboard until the middle of next week, as I am headed here on business. After finally having learned my lesson, I will not be bringing the laptop
from hell with me.
While New Jersey was clobbered with a sufficient amount of rain to result in flooding that caused the closure of the Garden State Parkway, NYC (at least all the while Eric was there) got only slight drizzle. As his train pulled into the station in Jersey, the sun came out. Go figure.
Today we are heading Down the Shore. At the moment the weather looks quite sketchy, but I’m hoping that the sun continues to follow the Ambassador of the Blogosphere.
Any time now, I’ll be heading over to the rain-soaked train station to collect The Ambassador of the Blogosphere and his most excellent bride, as they will be spending a couple days in the Garden State. I hope to show them some of the good, the bad and the ugly of New Jersey (light on the ugly), including a trip “down the shore.”
I also hope to expose them to a bit of Jersey cuisine, which may include a sausage (pronounced SAH-sij, or sah-ZEECH), pepper and onion sandwich on the boardwalk, some local Italian fare and, most definitely, Taylor Ham.
Unfortunately, the weather has not been cooperating. We are currently experiencing bone-rattling, drenching thunderstorms. However, if venturing out in that stuff becomes impracticable, I have lots of ice on hand (clear ice, of course – one always uses clear ice), a modest selection of Scotch whiskey as well as a not-so-modest selection of other libations, both distilled and brewed. I also have two guitars, a pile of CDs and a dry house.
I think we’ll do just fine.
My friend Brian, the Air Force Vet, sent me the following clever bit, entitled “Ode to the Spell Checker”:
Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.
Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.
As soon as a mist ache is maid,
It nose bee fore two long,
And eye can put the error rite
Its rare lea ever wrong.
Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no,
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.
Sadly, I can relate.
Cousin Jack has written a beautiful tribute to his former boss, teacher, mentor and long-time friend, Professor Boris Bittker of Yale Law School, who recently passed away.
There’s no denying that Cousin Jack certainly knows how to turn a phrase.
Holy crap! The Tony Danza Show (that would be the Tony Danza) kicked off its second season today, and I missed it, dammit. How can I possibly go on, knowing that I didn’t get to see Kelly Monaco (that would be the Kelly Monaco) and her kickoff of “Danzing with the Stars” Week.
I tell ya, we’re farookin’ doomed.
As I was doing my morning walk in the beautiful weather today I got to thinking about homonyms and homophones and how those little buggers could cause a person trying to learn English to conclude that English can be one very screwy language. I constructed the following two sentences, which, admittedly are a bit contrived, but which illustrate the point.
Her beau stood at the bow of the ship wearing, on his lapel, the red bow she had given him the day he won the archery championship using the bow he made from a bough of a hickory tree, and after which he proudly took a bow before the applauding audience.
So, it appears that you will have to sew the bag so that you can use it to sow the seeds to replace the grass that was trampled by the sow.
There’s simply no accounting for the kinds of goofy stuff I think about while strutting my shit in the mornings.