Oh, goody, the breathalyzer on my PC is broken.
“…excellent as a pre-dinner drink”??? WTF??? Here it is, 23.50 at night, I’ve been pouring this stuff for hours, and it’s supposed to be a pre-dinner single-malt? Hell with that, I had a gin tonic as an aperitif, dude. Then a nice red with dinner (pasta), and since then, Glenkinchie.
I shant be embarrassing, my kid reads this. I’m never embarrassing to my kids. Around my kids. Whatever.
Heh.
Self-publishing is a double-edged sword, isn’t it?
Two things: be careful what you hate, and not interesting in person:
Listen, I… listen, I was raised to hate Richard Milhouse Nixon with a white-hot passion. When I was 16, I was riding my bike somewhere and heard on a radio playing on someone’s porch that he had resigned (wait, that was 1975, when I was 16, when did he resign? Could fit…) Anyway, I heard that on someone’s radio at some age and thought, good. I’ll never forget this.
And I never have. I’ve forgotten exactly what year that was, but not the general scene. Gold one-speed stingray bicycle, kid riding it in cutoff jeans shaking his fist in the air. Power to the people.
Be careful what you hate, because you’ll become it, is my point here. I hated Nixon, and what the hell: here I am, a weasly old guy who’s upper lip beads with sweat under stress, which is why I don’t do television debates; to the left of Kerry, not to mention nearly any other US politician nowadays. Blonde wife, live in big house, give “peace sign” a lot. I’m sure Nixon had a turtle tortoise too.
Second thing: not interesting in person: you know who you are. So what, is all I can say. Let the others be the judge of that! I’m sure you’re plenty interesting, especially compared to me. And even if you’re not, so? 13 hours though, now that’s an argument…
I had a metallic light blue Stingray with a 3-Speed shift on the top bar that was as big as a car’s. Ape-hanger handlebars up front with hand brakes, white ‘banana seat’ with shock absorbers on the bottom near the rear wheel. Wide white walls with a knobby tire on the back. What a pimpin’ ride that was… Nixon was a god then, but LBJ was still fresh in everyone’s memory too.
Have one for me.
okay, what was wrong essentially with nixon, though, was that he believed he was qualified to be president. and the things that he did wrong were… human. wrong, but human. what made them evil was that they weren’t representative of the way we like to have our president behave.
you, sir, are no president. the standard you are (or should be) held to is not the same as the one to which nixon was held.
also: we were with the martinis last night. so, sorry about your poor tender head, if it’s anything near what mine is.
you are the bee’s knees!
“Whose,” I meant *whose*, not “who’s”.
Finally went to bed at 1 am this morning, woke up at 8 with no hangover, jsut a little tired which was very, very good, because it turned out Gamma has a new piano – Beta’s harp teacher is loaning us one because Gamma wants to learn piano.
Listen, 7 year old girl with new piano: not good for a hangover. She improvised for 8 hours straight. I’m sure Keith Jarret sounded a lot like that at the age of 7.
i donated my old piano to a church when zakk became old enough to ‘improvise’.
the payback? there are several electric instruments [with wall vibrating amplifiers] and a drum set in my garage…
“someday i’ll be able to buy you a new house, mom!”
“i should hope SO. you’re shaking THIS one to the ground.”
Yeah, just give her a couple weeks and she’ll be composing by ear.
Mig,
Nixon resigned in August of 1974. I know ’cause it was the year I graduated from college, and my then-wife, daughter and I were spending the summer on my grandmother’s farm in Sussex County, New Jersey. Yep, August of ’74…
That just shows you how lazy i am. I could have checked on that so easily, couldn’T I have. Yet I just couldn’t be arsed.
Okay, fifteen, then. Which would explain why I was riding a bike (actually a blue 10-speed Puch Bergmeister by then, I guess) and not driving the truck I got when I was 16-17 (turquoise 1958 Chevy Apache half-ton pickup).