I've moved again. Apparently I'm hard to satisfy.
http://markp427.wordpress.com
I think wordpress has some really cool features and a better layout. So...I'm giving that a try. If you're reading and want to follow me over there (again) - go for it. :)
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Fangs A Lot
I'm watching True Blood now. Curiosity won me over and I ordered Season 1 through Netflix. I could pretend to be a fan of vampires, but other than really enjoying reading "The Historian" a couple of years ago, my interest in them is fleeting at best. No, the real draw here - naturally - is the sex.
Hey, when you've gone nearly eight months without, you take your erections where you can find them.
I might as well at least have a little drama and action to go along with the soft-core porn. And Anna Paquin is great eye candy. That Southern accent, those skimpy sun dresses that cling to her body like a second skin...mmm. Even the little gap in her teeth appeals to me. I think it makes her more real. In other words, she's not one of those completely unattainable stars like, say, Angelina Jolie. Maybe she has a thing for 40 year old guys who work for pressure washer manufacturers. Whoo-hoo! I have a shot!
Or maybe not. But it's a pretty riveting show, sex and gore aside. I'm only four episodes in, but the first season is only 12 episodes long so I should be able to get through it pretty quickly. Besides, it's a nice change of pace from the regular parade of true-crime stuff that inundates my DVR.
Has it really been eight months without sex...?
Sheesh. Even during that miserable summer of 2006, my dry spell only lasted six months. Thanks to Lynn. But, ugh - never again, no matter how desperate I get! And I've had some opportunities, but always I've held off pursuing them because of Crystal. I may kick myself later, but I know I've done the right thing.
So I have no idea why I texted Tanya yesterday. But that's something I won't dwell on in too much detail.
It's ten minutes to 4:00, and I'm almost outta here. Dinner is already finished; I made a pork ragu in the crockpot - all I've got to do is cook the pasta, and I'm all set. People often debate over the most important invention of the 20th century. Some claim it was television, others the computer. I say both of those are perfectly fine and important, but the greatest tool to spring forth from man's inspiration has been the crockpot. Seriously. I mean, I've been working hard all day, but when I walk through the door in half an hour I'll be met with the warm, enticing aroma of a delicious meal, pretty much all ready to go. I can concentrate on my writing, and more True Blood, and when I'm ready to eat, I have very little preparation left. It's nearly as good as having a wife.
Hey, when you've gone nearly eight months without, you take your erections where you can find them.
I might as well at least have a little drama and action to go along with the soft-core porn. And Anna Paquin is great eye candy. That Southern accent, those skimpy sun dresses that cling to her body like a second skin...mmm. Even the little gap in her teeth appeals to me. I think it makes her more real. In other words, she's not one of those completely unattainable stars like, say, Angelina Jolie. Maybe she has a thing for 40 year old guys who work for pressure washer manufacturers. Whoo-hoo! I have a shot!
Or maybe not. But it's a pretty riveting show, sex and gore aside. I'm only four episodes in, but the first season is only 12 episodes long so I should be able to get through it pretty quickly. Besides, it's a nice change of pace from the regular parade of true-crime stuff that inundates my DVR.
Has it really been eight months without sex...?
Sheesh. Even during that miserable summer of 2006, my dry spell only lasted six months. Thanks to Lynn. But, ugh - never again, no matter how desperate I get! And I've had some opportunities, but always I've held off pursuing them because of Crystal. I may kick myself later, but I know I've done the right thing.
So I have no idea why I texted Tanya yesterday. But that's something I won't dwell on in too much detail.
It's ten minutes to 4:00, and I'm almost outta here. Dinner is already finished; I made a pork ragu in the crockpot - all I've got to do is cook the pasta, and I'm all set. People often debate over the most important invention of the 20th century. Some claim it was television, others the computer. I say both of those are perfectly fine and important, but the greatest tool to spring forth from man's inspiration has been the crockpot. Seriously. I mean, I've been working hard all day, but when I walk through the door in half an hour I'll be met with the warm, enticing aroma of a delicious meal, pretty much all ready to go. I can concentrate on my writing, and more True Blood, and when I'm ready to eat, I have very little preparation left. It's nearly as good as having a wife.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
I Support Cheerleaders
The house smells like a restaurant right now. Roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and huckleberry muffins are all competing for dominance. It's an amazing thing, the way a delicious meal cooked from scratch can make a house feel like a home.
There are signs of fall everywhere. The days are growing shorter; we're losing a minute or two of daylight every evening, and again, in the mornings. No longer is there light streaming into the bedroom before 5 AM, and it's dark again at a reasonable hour. Rain began falling overnight, and lasted nonstop until early afternoon; my rain gauge shows we received .83" with showers expected to continue the next two days. This is my favorite time of year.
Today was also a rare Saturday where I did practically nothing. Slept in, had cinnamon raising toast and coffee on the patio while reading the paper, then played the Wii for awhile before finally showering at noon. Then I ran a couple of errands - Target and Trader Joe's - while the kids stayed home. This afternoon I whipped up the aforementioned meal, and everything turned out fantastic, even if it did take me three tries to perfect the muffins (my own fault; apparently I can't read a recipe worth crap - I think I'll leave the baking up to Crystal). Had a couple of rum and Cokes while dinner was cooking. Tonight, we'll watch a movie - I have to pick one from my collection that is suitable for all of us. I don't think Season 1 of True Blood, which arrived from Netflix the other day, is appropriate for the kids. Damn it all.
It's been a lazy and relaxing day, but just what I needed after this past week. School started on Wednesday, and while I'm glad the kids have gone back, it's definitely more work for me. I get up half an hour earlier every morning, and we arrive home later. I can't believe Jason is in high school! That makes me feel old. It was strange, dropping him off for his first day; the school was packed with students, most of whom looked considerably older than my son, and there were even cheerleaders greeting the students outside the main entrance. Ahh, to be a teenager again...sometimes I am envious of Jason. He's got his whole life spread out before him, a blank canvas, and truly the best is yet to come. Although, I still feel that way myself sometimes...I just wish I had maybe ten more years to work with. Being 40 sucks. There was a t-shirt I saw today at Target that said "I Support Cheerleaders." It showed silhouettes of cheerleaders waving pompoms, jumping, and frolicking. I happened to be on the phone with Crystal at the time and told her about it, and she talked me out of buying it. "Maybe if you were 18 or 19," she said, "But you're 40. It just comes across as creepy." Sigh. Being 40 sucks! Inside, I'm still that 18-year old.
And, I might add, I wholeheartedly support cheerleaders.
But I suppose she's right. Even though I often forget I'm not still in my early 20s, well, I'm NOT. I may not act my age, but that doesn't mean I'm not my age.
Ten more years would be awesome (see, how many 40 year olds use the word "awesome"?). On the one hand, I'm thankful that MA and I got divorced at a relatively young age. We were both still 37. If we'd waited until the kids were out of school, well, we wouldn't have split up until we were nearing 50. And what's the point then?
I should just thank my lucky stars I'm "only" 40.
There are signs of fall everywhere. The days are growing shorter; we're losing a minute or two of daylight every evening, and again, in the mornings. No longer is there light streaming into the bedroom before 5 AM, and it's dark again at a reasonable hour. Rain began falling overnight, and lasted nonstop until early afternoon; my rain gauge shows we received .83" with showers expected to continue the next two days. This is my favorite time of year.
Today was also a rare Saturday where I did practically nothing. Slept in, had cinnamon raising toast and coffee on the patio while reading the paper, then played the Wii for awhile before finally showering at noon. Then I ran a couple of errands - Target and Trader Joe's - while the kids stayed home. This afternoon I whipped up the aforementioned meal, and everything turned out fantastic, even if it did take me three tries to perfect the muffins (my own fault; apparently I can't read a recipe worth crap - I think I'll leave the baking up to Crystal). Had a couple of rum and Cokes while dinner was cooking. Tonight, we'll watch a movie - I have to pick one from my collection that is suitable for all of us. I don't think Season 1 of True Blood, which arrived from Netflix the other day, is appropriate for the kids. Damn it all.
It's been a lazy and relaxing day, but just what I needed after this past week. School started on Wednesday, and while I'm glad the kids have gone back, it's definitely more work for me. I get up half an hour earlier every morning, and we arrive home later. I can't believe Jason is in high school! That makes me feel old. It was strange, dropping him off for his first day; the school was packed with students, most of whom looked considerably older than my son, and there were even cheerleaders greeting the students outside the main entrance. Ahh, to be a teenager again...sometimes I am envious of Jason. He's got his whole life spread out before him, a blank canvas, and truly the best is yet to come. Although, I still feel that way myself sometimes...I just wish I had maybe ten more years to work with. Being 40 sucks. There was a t-shirt I saw today at Target that said "I Support Cheerleaders." It showed silhouettes of cheerleaders waving pompoms, jumping, and frolicking. I happened to be on the phone with Crystal at the time and told her about it, and she talked me out of buying it. "Maybe if you were 18 or 19," she said, "But you're 40. It just comes across as creepy." Sigh. Being 40 sucks! Inside, I'm still that 18-year old.
And, I might add, I wholeheartedly support cheerleaders.
But I suppose she's right. Even though I often forget I'm not still in my early 20s, well, I'm NOT. I may not act my age, but that doesn't mean I'm not my age.
Ten more years would be awesome (see, how many 40 year olds use the word "awesome"?). On the one hand, I'm thankful that MA and I got divorced at a relatively young age. We were both still 37. If we'd waited until the kids were out of school, well, we wouldn't have split up until we were nearing 50. And what's the point then?
I should just thank my lucky stars I'm "only" 40.
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