To the future residents of 1967 Grand Ave., Apartment 203:
The child bride and I spent most of Friday and Saturday painting and cleaning your apartment. That's an entire weekend lost to making someone else's home spotless. And it was a little heartbreaking to do so. Previous moves have always felt like a bit of a step up, but now we are living in my parents' house and I have no idea where we will be living in Cardiff. I'm still at a loss as to how exactly I am going to secure a residence without physically being in Wales. I sent e-mails to a number of estate agents Sunday but have yet to hear back. Perhaps we will just go there and live at the Cardiff central bus station. The toilets there are top notch.
Rey Mysterio won the Royal Rumble last night. The child bride and I went over to a friend of a friend's house to watch the pay-per-view. Pro wrestling is just better when watching it in a room full of people; it makes the shitty parts not hurt so much. And there were plenty shitty parts in last night's show -- most blatantly the entire match between Mickie James and Ashley.
OK, ladies, I get it. You're pretty. You have enormous breasts.
Normally that's enough to keep me interested, but not when they are trying to wrestle. Cripes it was awful, and it reminded me of why I tend to lose interest in following wrestling.
The stuff that I have always loved is the surreal, like Hacksaw Jim Duggan's totally random appearance shortly after Edge lost his title.
It is now officially the year of the dog, but I'll probably still be writing "year of the cock" on my checks for the next month or so.
Some red dyes are made of insects.
Super Bowl ticket prices start at $2,225 for crap seats. Insert shaking-with-rage anti-NFL greed rant here.
This makes me hurt for all kinds of reasons.
Feb. 28 is free pancake day.