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"Welcome to American Sportsman - I'm Curt Gowdy. Today, we're hunting knob-gobblers."
That little passage popped into my head, full grown.
My mind is a scary place.
So I haven't updated since Wednesday, and I realize that bothers some people. But in the interim I've actually been doing things, so now that I'm actually posting an entry I have lots to tell you about.
Of course, none of it may be even vaguely interesting to you, but you don't have to read it, do you? No one's forcing you.
Thursday afternoon I took off from work early - a rare and special thing - and went to the dentist. As I've mentioned before, this is the dentist Sonya and her family have seen for years. I rather liked him. He admired the quality of my teeth and the manner in which I maintain them.
He did, however, advise me to have my wisdom teeth removed. He is not the first dentist to tell me this. Still, I've heard stories about wisdom tooth removal, and I remember my sisters coming home, both of them raving, gibbering and in extreme pain. I have decided to make a nonaggression pact with my wisdom teeth: as long as they cause me no pain I'll not have them removed.
Still, my dentist said that the oral surgeon he would recommend would put me on "a valium IV drip so good you won't know what car to get in when it's over with." If they start to bug me I won't hesitate to have them yanked out and experience full-force anesthesia.
I rode the trolley home for lunch today. There are two types of trolleys in Memphis: big ones and little ones. I rode a big one. The little ones are cold and drafty in the winter, but the big ones have powerful electric heaters under the benches. I rode home on this gray, cold and rainy Monday with a warm and happy butt. I laughed at the people walking. Their butts weren't warm.
Friday night we went to a Christmas party in the suburbs. Way out in the suburbs - the big house, landscaped lawns suburbs. It was at the palatial home of Sonya's boss. Not Kathy, but Kathy's boss - the big kahuna at the place they work, you know? There was lots of booze and an Elvis impersonator to hand out gifts. It was quite nice.
One of Sonya's coworkers - whom we'll call Heinrich, for the sake of this little exercise - just loves to give me and Sonya shit for being different from the rest of the crowd. He is an ex-fratboy with political aspirations and he couldn't be more different than Sonya and I, though he is an okay guy, really.
"What do you people do for Christmas?" he asked Sonya and I when he got there and found us sitting on the floor.
"We don't decorate a tree, we just burn one," I told him, deadpan.
Later, as we were leaving, he came up to me and asked me what we were doing after the party.
"You look nice tonight, Heinrich," I told him, "is it pledge week?"
I was rather proud of myself for that one.
Saturday was big. The Wife and I pried it out of bed early (about ten, anyway) and dropped off the toys we got for the unfortunate children at the pack 'n ship place.
Then the Great Day of Christmas Shopping began.
We went to the following places:
We spent a monkey-ass-fuckload of money Saturday, but the Christmas shopping is pretty much over. I wish I had some amusing stories to tell about the Great Day of Christmas Shopping, but I don't. It was like working. We had a job to do and did it.
Saturday night, Flipper (who you'll remember from this entry came over to join Sonya and I for a trip to Newby's to see Human Radio. Flipper came over early enough to see the last hour or so of Orgazmo ("Now you're a man! A man man man!") and we drank a bottle of wine - Big Frank's Cabernet Franc. I recommend it highly. Then we went to Newby's.
Some of you may remember Human Radio. They had a minor hit back in 1990 with "Me and Elvis," a chugging, memorable power-pop ditty. They broke up shortly thereafter, though Ross Rice, the leader, keyboardist, guitarist and singer has had an active career in Nashville and Memphis since then. So have the rest of the members of the band. The show at Newby's Saturday night was the band's first reunion in five years.
So we got there and paid the cover and got some seats at the back, in front of the soundboard. We kicked back and had a few beers and enjoyed ourselves.
The music was very, very good. They played "Me and Elvis," of course, and "Love Dungeon" and "Monkeysuit." All the hits, plus a couple of songs of Ross' solo album.
Embarassing Moment
The band was jamming away, pretty late in the show. I said our seats were back by the soundboard, right? Well, the soundboard is on an elevated platform that we could lean against. I'd had a few drinks, right? I leaned back.
I fell asleep. At a rock concert. Sad, isn't it? Sonya and Flipper gave me no end of shit about it.
"Narcoleptic motherfucker," Flipper said gleefully after the show was over.
Sunday? Sonya cleaned house. Chinese food. The Saints were embarassed - again - by the Rams. I did some laundry. Someone puked in the freight elevator, which I have to take to get to the laundry room, so that was a joy.
Tonight the Wife and I went after work and rented some movies (200 Cigarettes - a hoot) and we got some sammiches at Sonic. I have nothing further of interest to tell you.
Though I have been reading The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich over the last week or so. Not to be too generous with the understatement or anything, but those Nazis were fucked up. I'm glad they're dead.
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