MRT's Greatest Hits #1

I was tempted to call this "How I Knew I Loved You #2", but those who know my MRT know there's just no "occasional" series awesome enough to contain him. I will start referring to his greatest hits though.

One of the first things I ever noticed about MRT (nee KoF)was his amazing way of turning a phrase. On our first date, he called something a "happy accident," and I thought that was just marvelous. I quite possibly swooned. As you know, I love a good sentence.

Yesterday, MRT determined that "Eight is the new five," in terms of how much things cost.

Don't you just want to squeeze him?

Afternoon Delight

Having a secret that brings you a tremendous amount of joy and that will, once revealed, give your sworn enemies the big number one is such a joy.

On troubled days, I relish in my secret delight and cackle evilly.

Mwahahahahahahaha.

Depressing Stat

Elvis's first music contract in 1955 at age 20, when he was barely known beyond Tennessee, was for more money than I make annually as a college graduate--51 years later.

The Wisdom of Blush and Bashful

When it comes to social authorities, there is no be-all, end-all source like Steel Magnolias. It really does answer most of life's questions.

Examples:

If you can't say something nice, come sit by me.

There is no such thing as natural beauty.

He's so confused; that man doesn't know wheter to scratch his watch or wind his butt.

All gay men are named Mark, Rick, or Steve. And all gay men have track lightin'.

I'm not crazy M'Lynn; I've just been in a very bad mood for 40 years.

Goddamnit I'm pleasant! I smiled at the sonofabitch before I could help myself.

If you can achieve puberty, you can achieve a past.

I am not about to spend the next fifty years of my life with someone I'm not gonna run into in the hereafter.

When it comes to pain and suffering, she's right up there with Elizabeth Taylor.

I could go on, but I think you get the point.

Cue Team America's Highly Offensive "Mistel Ronery"

Today, Jeff sent me not one, but two, identical copies of a 165-page .pdf said to contain "a brief history of Kim Jong Il" in response to two of my emails.

When I asked why he had done this, I received no response.

This is most confounding behavior, my puppy-loving friend. Most confounding indeed. No puppies for you.

World Gasps at Shocking News

I just can't believe this kind of news from a guy in a syrupy-pop boy band who gyrates around in tight pants. I'm totally speechless.

I know it's been a week, but this is the best I can do

...for now anyway.

You Are A: Puppy!

Beloved by all, puppies are energetic, playful, and loving. Your outgoing and friendly nature is part of what makes you a puppy. Known for their loyalty, puppies make great pets for young and old alike. And an innocent puppy face can melt anyone's heart!

You were almost a: Pony or a Monkey
You are least like a: Turtle or a Bear CubWhat Cute Animal Are You?

Thank you, Jeffery!

A Jazzy Little Number

Wowee! Have y'all seen the 2006 Honda Civic yet?

I just did and all I can say is: the future is here! Now where are my robo-maid and personal jet pack?!

Also, how come any new car, no matter what kind, looks like a luxury car compared to Li'l Zippy? LZ is still #1 to me!

Only You

There is exactly one mosquito in my car. There is always exactly one mosquito in my car that bites me, then slows down due to all the delicious blood he's just swallowed and I kill him. The next day, this happens again. I would suspect he is the Jesus of mosquitos or that my blood is some kind of life-bringer-backer, but the fallen corpses of the previous days litter my dash until I wipe them away with a Chipotle napkin and some Bath & Body works vanilla hand sanitizer from my glove box.

Where are you coming from my exactly one perennial mosquito annoyance?

United States of Suspicion

There's a mini-Enron going on downstairs, in that if someone were to make a documentary about the goings-on, they would invoke the weird whispery voice from The Smartest Guys in the Room when he says "WHAT are they doing in there?! What the HELL are they doing in there?!" as they show a close-up of the Enron buildings.

Let's put it this way, if they were a sovereign nation, their chief export would be gross tonnage of poop. Their chief import would be laundry, which I assume they are taking in at this point because when I am home, the washing machine is never not running. And as you may know, I'm home often. Their national flag would be a Where's Waldo puzzle, in which all the townies populating the picture were dogs and rats. They are seriously starting a kennel or something. The national anthem would be door slamming and would be played at all hours, without warning and would include but not be limited to: front doors, car doors, interior doors, sliding doors and windows. I don't even think they have a sliding door, but somewhere, it's being slammed.

And then more inexplicable stuff that doesn't fit into my sovereign nation thing:

-TV turned up to 11. Seriously. I can hear their movies better than I can hear my own.I am considering getting ear plugs just to nap on my own couch.

-Loud noises that are indistinguishable between sex and bitter arguing. (???)

-Constant bickering and constant companionship

-The apparent disappearance of the other person's apartment/lease/other life after one week of dating.

-Inability to take out or bring in city garbage EVER and not because they're beat to it by me. I am often running out to flag down the garbage man and tell him to slow down while KoF wheels the can out. This also applies to random refuse in their yard, often occurring when their car doors open and like five diet coke cans roll into the car port or street.

-Unwillingness to talk to me EVER, in any context, within the last month. If I come outside, they go inside. If I call, they don't answer. Maybe I should consider sky-writing.

P.S. I did consider writing a message in poop, but they are apparently oblivious to the amount of poop that is literally everywhere. No seriously: it is everywhere. KoF can attest. My new address is 1709 Dog Poop Lane. Kennel City, Poopsconsin.

P.P.S. Do you think they are unable to scoop poop because they are busy doing laundry?

Fire ze missiles!

THIS is awesome.

Please enjoy responsibly. Many swear words (in a hilarious way, of course), so wear headphones if you're at work or around impressionable minds.

Laundry Daze

If you were wondering about the perfect time to launder umpteen loads of your girlfriend's winter favorites like: fleece pullovers, flannel sheets and thermal socks, may I sarcastically recommend mid-July?

It's Truly Maddening

...how Target has *everything* you both want and desperately need.

How did this happen?

"It's A Little Wild and A Little Strange..."

Did any of y'all ever watch that show Hey Dude on Nickelodeon? Wait, am I insane? Of course most of you did.

So today as I was driving across town to get a very delicious lunch, I was reminded of an episode in which Buddy (Mr. Ernst's son) is lamenting his desert/ranch home because of his inability to skateboard there as he once did on the freewheeling sidewalks of Chicago. I think that's where they were from. I really have no clue why he decided to convey his distress in a poem and I don't even remember it all. Yet what I do remember strikes a chord with me as my wheels bump along the horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad roads of inner loop Houston.

I used to skateboard all the time
it really was my favorite
so I'd like this desert so much better
if they'd only come out and pave it.

Yeah, so that's the end of that post. I should probably address it to Mayor Bill White. The roads inside the loop make me want to cry and invest in tire companies. Poor Little Zippy.

Enthusiastic Regression

I was reading some of my old, old blogs from the days of my 22-ness. Wow--that's been a long time. I was a lot angrier (yes! it's possible!) but also, probably funnier. (Hence my old motto: I used to be funny. Further evidence of aging: I can't remember what my new motto is at the moment. Probably "I bank on the Lord" or something.)

After reading all these posts I got a lot of insight about where I've been, where I might be going, etc. and that's all great. But I do have one very important question for my long-time readers.

What ever happened to poop snapple?

Never mind.

Ken Lay Lives.

WTF? Ken Lay is Dead

It's true. Ask Yahoo news.

As Pinky von M. noted: "Why it was only last night that we joked about putting roman candles in his butt." A true patriot, Lay hung around for the fourth. (Bah.)

Cheer up, this need not be the end of Ken Lay jokes. In fact with his sentencing just around the bend, his rather cozy death at a vacation home (wtf? why does he still have a vacation home?) in Aspen, stinks of Kevorkian.

Not that I am necessarily opposed to physician-assisted suicide, but it shouldn't be available to the highest bidder simply because they are about to go to jail for ruining a goodly amount of peops' lives.

Harumph.

Oops I Did it Again

The annual tradition of forgetting my blog's anniversary is one I take seriously. Happy one week late four year blogiversary to French-Roast. I realize that's a blogiversary well-ahead of the "Year of the Blog." I also realize that might seem kind of pathetic to some, and that the word "blogiversary" is relatively douchey, but hey--you're reading this junk. So I think that calls for a little boo-yah.

Happy Birthday, Bloggy. You don't look a day over 3, you gorgeous thing.

Memo to the Portion of the World who Shops at Beautiful People Kroger*

It has become apparent that we all enjoy everything bagels and Jamaica Blue Mountain (knock-off) coffee. So, can we appreciate this enormous amount of kinship and leave some for the others (i.e. me)? I am starting to get depressed at how Kroger is perpetually out of these delicious items, but always has plenty of cinnamon swirl bagels and a very non-delicious, so-called creme brulee coffee.

Thick and chunky, medium-level hotness Pace Picante sauce also falls into this category. Do I have to start fighting peops? I mean, as much as KoF reminds me that the hot-level hotness one is "good for the prostate," I really don't have a prostate, so I'm not terribly concerned about it**.


*The name Beautiful People Kroger is brought to us courtesy of Erin who deemed it as such for the ridiculous amount of good-looking people who shop there. Of course, this was in relation to the level of attractiveness of people who shop at Disco Kroger and that level is, Scuba Steve notwithstanding, significantly lower and includes many vagrants and hardened alcoholics, many years without their teeth.

**It should be noted, however, that if spicy food/jalapeno intake is indeed a prostate-wellness promoting item, KoF does not need to be terribly concerned about it either. He likes to take hot-level hotness of foods to painful levels of requiring a glass of milk or bread and possible death in small animals.

In support of lithium supplements

For awhile now, KoF has been telling me about a study done that showed that cities and towns with naturally occuring lithium in their water supplies had a significantly lower incidence of murder and hate crimes than cities without.

For those of you who may not know, Houston is sans naturally-occurring lithium in the water supply. Surprise. Surprise.

Yesterday I went to Target to get a few things. On the short drive home,a man was soooo close to my bumper for awhile, then finally sped up, pulled in front of me and slammed on his breaks. Was I going slow? Yes, if 40 in a 30 is slow--not that were I not going fully ten miles over the speed limit would he be justified in the bizarre, sociopathic behavior he exhibited. Twice he did this even as I kept attempting to drop back and get away from this psycho.

Passing Shepherd, and finally free of psycho 1, I start to turn left onto my street because 1) there is no oncoming traffic and 2) the side street had stop signs while I did not. There I encounter psycho 2.

I had to slam my breaks suddenly because a guy coming off my street decided he didn't want to stop at the stop sign. Then slamming on his breaks, he gave me the finger and was visibly cursing at me. As I shrugged and pointed to his stop sign, his companion waved me on to make my turn. Oh really? Thanks for giving me my legal turn, bizards.

Houston is getting scary. Is it possible to petition to partially-drug the water supply here?


For your edu-tainment, I now paraphrase The Simpsons:

"Lithium for all!"
(Booo!)
"Lithium for none!"
(Boooo!)
"Lithium for some. Miniature American flags for others."
(Yeaaaaaahhhh!)

Semantics Crankster

Am I the only one bothered by the fact that birth control is referred to on web sites as medicine?

I mean, it's not "curing" anything and you don't need to be sick to take it. In fact, you have to be healthy enough to possibly get pregnant if you don't take it.

The definition of medicine, when referring to something in particular and not the study of health sciences is: a: a substance or preparation used in treating disease b : something that affects well-being

And are you going to state that without birth control, your well-being is affected? Maybe mentally, but by that rationale, condoms are also "medicine."

I mean we basically have to get down to definition four to make birth control viable as a "medicine." And mods might not like that one much. Def 4: an object held in traditional American Indian belief to give control over natural or magical forces; also : magical power or a magical rite.

Look, this isn't a pro-life message in disguise or an attempt to set back women's lib or anything. I'm all for women being in control of their fertility and doing what they want. Girl power: woot! But birth control isn't medicine and I really believe in calling a spade a spade. That is all.