Wednesday, August 17, 2005

75 percent hotness

  • I was lying in bed last night and my brain was spinning so hard that it started trying to do math. Math, for the love of Pete! I am sick. Sick in the head.
    In my defense, I was trying to work out how many square feet of womanage will be in my apartment on Thursday when two of my wife's sisters come to visit.

  • Here are some other random things that happened on my unscheduled day off:
    --- Just to make it all official like, I went to the doctor. He gave me a bottle of amoxicillin and sent me on my way. I may or may not need the amoxicillin -- something about how quickly he prescribed it reminded me of the doctors in "Catch 22" who would paint your teeth purple.
    --- When I got home from the doctor, the first thing my wife asked was: "What did he say about giving you something for sleep?"
    It had been her suggestion that I ask my doctor to prescribe sleeping pills, to help me get enough sleep. And, I suspect, by extension, to help her get enough sleep.
    "Uhm, he says I don't need 'em," I said.
    "You didn't even ask, did you?"
    No. No, I did not. I am a Manly Man with a Manly Brain That Is Not Broken. I don't need no stinking sleeping pills. Judy Garland took sleeping pills. Clang, clang, clang goes the trolley, bitches. I am not that bad off -- far from it.
    --- While I was walking back from the market with various items for lunch, I spotted a guy on a bicycle in the middle of the street. As he pedaled by, he screamed out to no one: "I don't deserve this! I'm an American citizen!"
    --- I dreamt that Rachel and I were being attacked by a dude who looked a lot John Astin in his character as Buddy, on "Night Court." He was trying to attack us with a frying pan. I pushed Rachel into a stairwell and then stood at the stairwell entrance, so that the guy would only have a single angle of attack. My tactic worked and when he tried to swing, the frying pan he got caught up against a wall and I threw a jab that dropped him to the floor. But then he started trying to scramble under my legs and get up the stairs to my wife. I caught him again and started punching anything I could in the dark of the stairwell and then I heard my wife shouting, "What the hell are you doing?!" and I woke up to see that my wife was gripping my fist and that I had punched her in the hip.
    "Oh, shit!" I yelped. "There was a guy and he was coming after you and I was hitting him and..."
    "Did you get him good?"
    "Well, uhm, yeah."
    "Good for you, honey," she said, kissing me on the cheek and going back to bed.

  • I'm pretty sure this was reported a year ago, but Pierce Brosnan seems to have finally been informed that he is Bond no more. Who would you choose to take his place?

  • The rugby team I mentioned in a post a few days ago now faces eviction from the pitch they've held for 25 years. And the team president has uttered one of the most implausible phrases I've ever heard from a rugby player: "... all the other guys in the club who don't drink, like myself."

  • Why do I take joy in Madonna's falling from a horse?
    "Isn't she from Detroit?" my coworker asked. "What was we she doing on a horse, anyway?"
    Indeed. I despise her that she has somehow become a member of the English aristocracy. I expect her to start lobbying for the return of fox hunting soon.

  • I like this picture (found here).
  • 12 comments:

    Thomas said...

    I wonder it would take for the producers to name me the first American 007.

    OldHorsetailSnake said...

    Stress-wise, you better opt for them pills, or your wife will see if she can't get you "The Big Sleep". Or don't you remember that one?

    Peace out, dawg.

    English Professor said...

    Yes, very good picture!

    I'm with oldhorse--do something about getting your sleep before she sends you to another bed.

    Curly said...

    It seems that the Hollywood folk love Brits bounding over to their nice little world but it's not well received the other way around I don't think. Unless you used to be in 'Neighbours' Brits don't like you living here.

    Zeta Jones has just spent some time in her mansion just down the road from here and already has pissed off some of the locals! And she's from Swansea Originally!!

    Madonna, GO HOME!

    Curly said...

    Somthing you may be interested in if you haven't got it already - Here. It should confuse anyone trying to use your computer too.

    Chris Cope said...

    Wow. That's really cool. Thanks, Curly.

    Dave Morris said...

    Did you have the same issues I have when fighting in my dreams? The ones where you swing really hard but your fist moves slowly as if in slow motion?

    Damn those dreams. DAMN them.

    Chris Cope said...

    I do have those dreams, or when the punches you are landing are too soft. Argh.

    Greg said...

    Jude Law.

    Jenny said...

    Do you ever sleep-shout? Apparently I do it all the time. Last night I shouted

    'JAM. JAM IS IN THE BED.'

    Chris Cope said...

    Jam? As in famed Minneapolis music producer Jimmy Jam? Or maybe British 70s rockers The Jam? Or maybe the boy misheard you and you were screaming in terror over 90s cartoon singer Jem, of Jem and the Holograms?

    Sarah said...

    Rupert Everett for Bond. He's
    dashing, sarcastic and very, very stylish.