I love how this works.
I ask questions, you give answers.
An anonymous source gave me this link in answer to the rocks on the roof question:
And, if you didn’t read the comments about the why do they announce drunk and driving check points, there’s this from my college roommate turned lawyer. He says:
I can offer some insight into the publication of checkpoint locations: it’s called the Constitution. You see, here in America (at least before the Bush Administration gets through with it)we have certain freedoms. One of those freedoms is to be free of unreasonable search and seizures, which a traffic stop certainly may constitute. An unconstitutional stop is one made by the police w/out a reasonable and articulable suspicion. A checkpoint involves just such a situation, so to counterbalance the clear lack of a reasonable and articulable suspicion the Courts have held that the police must do certain things, like publish notice, hold the checkpoint in a place likely to find drunk drivers and establish (or pre-establish, if I could make a play on a previous blog — one that I was clearly the inspiration for) guidelines to prevent cops from pulling over, say, only the white Irish lawyers or the African-Americans (that’s why they have to stop every other car, or every third car, etc…).
Now, here’s a question I’m not sure anyone can answer.
I’m in the grocery store last night buying Valentine’s Day cards. Me and 50 other guys. Well, one guy is walking around so proudly with his gift for his significant other.
What is it, you ask?
How about one of those ginormous chocolate chip cookies. It gets better. This one was in the shape of a heart, and it had blue frosting around the edge and in the middle where it said Happy Valentine’s Day.
I mean, who in their right mind brings that home? And, if they do, who in their right mind actually enjoys getting it?
That’s all for now.
What else? I got nothin’.
Welcome to the big show. It’s Monday. Not sure what that means for me.But, what it means for you is a few random thoughts. I guess what it means for me, then, is that I can’t put a few hundred words together about one topic. So, here we go:
Venison anyone? Yup, we could be serving that this week at the homestead. Nope, didn’t hit a deer (have already done that). But, someone else might have. Otherwise, how could I explain the dead deer in the side of my yard. Discovered it Saturday morning while taking a break from gutter cleaning (ah, the joys). Could have been there a week for all we know. And hopefully it won’t be there much longer. Public Works is supposed to take it away.
Happy Birthday, Gramma. My Gramma turned 100 this weekend. That’s right. One hundred. Wow. There was a party for her yesterday. Among the cards and assorted well wishes she got was one from Pennsylvania Avenue. Yes, faithful readers, your tax dollars at work. Let the White House know you’ve got a special event coming and George W will take the time out of his hectic schedule to send your gramma a card.
I love to chew gum. But, here’s the thing. I can’t chew one piece. Has to be two. Every time. And, right now, it has to be Orbit Citrusmint. Or Bubblemint.
The weekend is also used to catch up on TiVo shows. Here’s a brief synopsis. LOST is fantastic this year. Of the new stuff, totally digging Brothers and Sisters. And I thought my family put the fun in dysfunctional. Wow.
Oh, speaking of TV. Since it’s Monday, that means tonight is The Class and How I Met Your Mother. It also means I am completely unavailable between 8 and 9 p.m. Heck, it’s like when 90210 used to be on. Wait, was that out loud? Hate it when that happens.
Here’s a left over from Friday. I’m playing with my son and start to say the alphabet. I get to C and then ask, “What’s next?” I’m sitting there thinking, ok, I’ll get D, maybe an E, F, too. What does he do? Nothing except go through the rest of it. Talk about wow moments. That was pretty cool.
Saw a girl I went to high school with Friday night. We started talking about the usual stuff. Who is where and married to who and how many kids. Then we started talking about our next reunion. Yup, 20th. Gulp. Where does it go? Or, where did it go?
I got nothin’.
So a buddy of mine is going to Fenway tonight to see the Sox. He’ll be five rows behind homeplate, which means I could probably see him on TV (if I really wanted to). And that would be the only reason to watch since I stopped watching them regularly about a month ago.
Anyway, I asked my friend, “Will you have a hat on or will you be wearing anything that will help me find you?”
“I won’t have a hat on, but I’ll probably be wearing my Patriots hoodie.”
I was speechless at first. Then I said, “Wait a minute” and my voice trailed off.
He was like, “Oh boy, something’s coming.”
Damn right something’s coming, I said.
It’s a hoodie thing. I have lots of things. Trust me. But the hoodie thing is one of my newest.
When did it stop being just a hooded sweatshirt?
And, more importantly, as I told my friend, it’s just not right for guys (particularly those in their 40s like him) to be talking about their hoodie. College girls wear hoodies. High school girls wear hoodies. Guys — we shouldn’t be wearing hoodies.
I can’t offer any concrete rationale for it being wrong. I just know it is.