I don’t have anything clever to write in the 3 minutes I have before I need to leave for work. So sad. So sad. On the bright side, I’m going to probably start testing cakes and caterers this weekend. Yippie!!!!!

PreNupt,
Gregsta’

I’m advocating for a new Government program that will, once and for all, take a bite out of the Drug problem.

Anyone who owns a fire arm shall be permitted to shoot and kill one Tweaker a day until such time that all Tweakers have been taken out.

If that isn’t a deterrent, I don’t know what is.

TiredOfTweakers,
Gregster!

I never get tired of complaining about Monday.

I also never tire of watching Food Network en HD.

Weird? Yes.

EmptyBrainingly,
Gregsta'

This marks the 210th post to the Domino Effect since I came back to using the blogger service. I thought it would only make sense to pay homage to the car that was responsible for setting me free:

My 1981 Datsun 210 Station Wagon w/ an A14 4-Cyl Motor, 5 speed transmission, no radio, no power steering, no AC, no anything. Nope, about the only luxury item on this rig was, um, uh… The rearview mirror had a night switch!

Okay, so the picture is of someone else’s – mine looked nearly identical, save the cool rims.

Yes, I took my shiny Datsun to the Beach, rural Washington (long story), Downtown, the Burbs – just about anywhere my $5 of gas money would take me (that was nearly a half tank in those days!).

We called her Jolene, after some girl I had a crush on in middle school. The name just kind of stuck. I do miss the ol’ jalopy, even if it was about as safe as driving around tin foil.

MemoryLaningly,
Gregsta’

I was thinking this evening – how wonderful would it be to relive my childhood all over again? Not from the beginning, of course – but rather, from that point in which I realized that the world was a splendid place full of opportunity and fascinating things.

It might help me get past the years of High School and College, which effectively taught me that the world was an awful place where dictators, republicans and terrorists must be fought tooth and nail.

I need a drink after that rumination…

Soberingly,
Gregsta’

Here I sit, in my parent’s living room after a nice big breakfast with the family.

There’s a lively discussion about electrocution going on.

I’m staying out of it. I’m feeling a little more conductive than usual.

Gregsta’

The previous post was brought to you by Red Wine. Lots of Red Wine.

This is going to be one of those weekends where I work my ass off on all sort of things. Websites, wedding planning, taxes, bills – you name it, I’m slaving over it.

Gregsta’

Bring buzzed off a bottle of wine on Valentines means two things:

2. Item #1 was deleted to protect the innocent!

2.5: Everything that I see on television is REAL!

3. The Usual Suspects made sense. Complete sense. Keyser Soze is Verbal. I had it figured out 15 minutes into the movie. Sorry to anyone who hasn’t seen it.

I know, that’s 3 items that are out of order.

Gregsta’

I really hate it when you get older and realize that something you once enjoyed and found whimsical turns out to exist because a big commercial organizations profit from it.

I’m not talking about Christmas (that’s another blog you’ve already read), I’m talking about today: Valentines Day.

It used to be 11 separate religious holidays. It wasn’t until 1969 that the Catholic church gave this up. I suspect the festivities amounted to nothing. Could you imagine buying valentines cards 11 times a year?

Through a long and convoluted history, Valentines day traversed into an era where people wrote hand-written messages to their sweethearts to where we are today: Valentines are given out to every school kid from every other school kid, and god forbid you’re an adult with a significant other! If you forget flowers and candy, you’re sleeping on the couch.

From religious rite to commercial boon. Sounds like a lot of things, doesn’t it.

Fortunately, Betsy understands and appreciates that it’s a commercialized holiday. No expectations for candy, flowers and jewlery. Nope. Instead, I think we’ll camp out on the couch tonight, watch a movie of her picking and make some heart shaped sugar cookies in the oven.

See? That’s not so hard. I garuntee that it will be remembered.

Heartingly,
Gregster’

Monday. It’s the apocalypse that happens once a week.

I like to spend my Sunday’s living like everybody dies the next day.

I think I may have gone too far this weekend.

I should give the neighbor their Lawn Gnome back.

ReadingIntoIt,
Gregsta’