Today's Happy (?) Hour Soundtrack

A couple o' tunes and a random thought or two.  First, Colbie Caillat...

I won't do what you told me
I won't do what you said, no
I'm not gonna stop feeling
I'm not gonna forget it
I don't wanna start over
I don't wanna pretend that
You are not my lover
That you're only my friend

That was me ten years ago.  We've grown up a lil bit since then*.  And then there's this...

Isn't this the best part of breakin' up
Finding someone else you can't get enough of
Someone who wants to be with you too

It's an itch we know we are gonna scratch
Gonna take a while for this egg to hatch
But wouldn't it be beautiful

Here we go, we're at the beginning
We haven't fucked yet, but my heads spinning

Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you
Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you
It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it
So tell me
Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you

Oh, damn.  There it IS.  I was gonna go off on this tangent about how and why is it that heartbreak songs outnumber those that celebrate "true love" (if there is such a thing) by a factor of at LEAST 10:1.  That ratio is based upon today's Happy Hour soundtrack, which was the Joan Osbourne station on Pandora.  And further... I didn't keep an actual count of the songs, it's just a gut-feel sorta thang.  I think I'm erring on the conservative side as well, because if I really go with my gut I'd say the heartbreak songs outnumber songs celebrating love by a factor of 20:1.  But that's just me, and we're ignoring what Ms. Phair said.

We digress.  I think Miz Phair hits on it... the feeling one gets when one is caught up in an irresistible attraction and that feeling is prolly the demise of most relationships.  I've been on both sides of this phenomenon and neither side is pretty: someone always gets hurt.  It really makes me wonder why the hell we go through this shit but I think that's mostly a function of age.  It's much easier to let it all go... to give up the chase, to accept solitude... when you've got one foot in the grave.  Yet still... so much to lose, so little to gain.  Why?

*Which is only a small lie.

Mostly Good, With a Lil Bad Mixed In

Yeah... Ron Paul is lookin' better and better.  And better.  But I just can't sign on with his foreign policy views, among other thangs.

―:☺:―

We've had a run o' good... no, great... WX this past week.  I sat out on the verandah from about 1030 hrs until twilight last evening, goin' directly from morning coffee to beer without even so much as a missed step.  We did take the odd potty break now and then, one blogging break, and spent some quality time with the neighbor ladies and my erstwhile foster granddaughter, who continues to crawl all over me like I'm some sorta amusement park.  "It's because you're so nice to her," sez my neighbor.  I just smiled while thinkin' "well, I'm nice to YOU, too, yanno?"  I should verbalize these thangs, methinks.  The ol' "faint heart/fair lady" cliché comes to mind...

There's a downside to this fine WX: the right side o' my face is severely sunburned; sunburned to the point o' pain, to the point where we broke out the Greasy Kid Stuff (Neosporin) and slathered it all over our nose and cheek last evening.  I hate it when this happens, more so in the dead o' winter.

We shall be havin' more of the same in the upcoming week.  Note:

Which is MUCH better than a year ago, almost to the day (01/30 vs. 01/31):

We Otta Be a Whole Helluva Lot Smarter By Friday...

... on account o' because we're gonna be spending the next four nights in the Holiday Inn Express just across the highway.  I thought about this long and hard before I decided to abandon El Casa Móvil De Pennington for a warmer space.  My Inner Macho Man said "don't be a freakin' wuss, it's just a lil cold, is all."  Macho Man was winning until I ran into Jenny at Wally-World and she was pretty emphatic with the "do it!" thing.  Which all goes to prove that women are generally smarter than men when it comes to macho stuff.

And just how cold will it be?  This cold:

 

I can do overnight temps in the teens but below zero stuff just ain't ANY fun.  At all.

So.  We're booked.  Registering at the front desk of the HIE was sorta funny... I was asked for address, etc. and duly gave the particulars... which got weird for the lady when she said "and your ZIP code there?'  "88130," sez I.  "Hunh?  What's that all about, if I may ask?"  We explained, she understood.  And Hey!  Free breakfast for the next four days, or at least someone else is gonna do the cookin'.  Coz it ain't exactly free, yanno?

I'll take this year over last... along with some zinc oxide for the ol' snozz.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Oh, baby... it don't get no better than this:

Make me an angel that flies from Montgomery
Make me a poster from an old rodeo
Just give me one thing that I can hold on to
To believe in this living is just a hard way to go 

Yeah.  A hard way to go, indeed.  But what a brilliant tune. 

Broadening Our Horizons XL

Not extra large...

But the fortieth edition of BOH is extra good.  Today's Happy Hour began sometime around 1300 hrs and is still goin' on as we speak, for it is the MOST magnificent day here on The High Plains o' New Mexico.  And we should be drinkin' a most magnificent beer now, shouldn't we?   The Bros REALLY like this beer, and I gotta admit I do, too.  From their (world class) review:

Taste: Silky smooth with a nice medium bodied mouth feel. After the luscious mouth feel come the flavour which is quite malty ... light acidic twang from the roasted malts, a little dark roasted coffee flavour and an underlying toasted biscuit taste are balanced with a perfect combo of hop and roasted malt bitterness. The lingering after taste is of faded burnt sugar, drying grain and a slightly warming alcohol. A wonderful yet delicate hop character helps to round this brew also.

Notes: Oh baby! There are good porters and then there are great porters ... this one goes down as a great one, no doubt!

Yeah.  What he said.  And now it's back out on the verandah to continue as we've begun.  It's a three-cigar sorta day, and a three (or more) beer day, too.

Life is good.

In Today's Mail

This, from SN1:

Hey dad…

Just a quick story for you that goes with this pic:

Apparently this shirt isn't allowed to be worn by the forensics team now…

It seems one of the mothers on the team was shocked when she saw the back…she thought it said: fornicate.

So…because one woman can't read and has a dirty mind (not that that's a bad thing!), the kids can't wear what I think is a really cool shirt that Sean says is extremely comfortable.

Don't you just hate it when that happens?

Thought you'd appreciate this...

Isn't that SPECIAL?

Update:  Frickin' Blogger.  You'd THINK Blogger and g-mail, both bein' horses from the same stable, would be able to talk to each other.  But noooo...

300 Channels and Nothing On

WTF?

How Thick Is Your Bubble?

A nifty lil quiz via a tweet from Taranto...  "How Thick Is Your Bubble?"

This quiz is inspired by American Enterprise Institute scholar Charles Murray's new book, "Coming Apart: The State of White America, 1960-2010," which explores the unprecedented, class-based cultural gap in America. How culturally isolated are you? Answer these 20 questions to find out.

Taranto scored 7, I scored 13.  And 13 means...

On a scale from 0 to 20 points, where 20 signifies full engagement with mainstream American culture and 0 signifies deep cultural isolation within the new upper class bubble, you scored between 13 and 16.

In other words, you don't even have a bubble.

Well, that's nice to know.  I think.  And I did it without having seen a movie (in a theatre) in the last year, not having gone fishing or hunting in the past five years, and bein' unable to ID a pictured NASCAR hero.  They must give bonus points for bein' in the military.

How did you do, Gentle Reader?