9 days, bitches.

9 days.

That’s how many shopping days you have until my birthday.


December 10. Sagitarrius in the house, laid back, paid black, coolin’ like a shade shack.

I’m not usually one for promoting my own birthday, but it’s a big one for me.

The big 3-5.


Trente cinco.

I certainly don’t FEEL like I’ll be 35. I honestly feel like I’m in my mid-20s, especially with the band and my addiction to cartoons and video games. The only time I really feel my age is when a coworker of mine, after receiving a quick lesson in DOS commands on the computer, says “Oh yeah, I remember seeing this in elementary school. Back in 1990.” I swear, six new gray hairs sprouted out of my chin right that moment. Speaking of gray, while I don’t really mind going gray on my head (it’s gray along the sides, kinda like Reed Richards from the Fantastic Four), I am not at all thrilled about the plethora of gray hairs that are showing up in my beard like there’s gonna be a Grateful Dead concert there tonight. I pluck ’em. Oh yeah, I pluck the hell out of them. I’ll decide when I’m ready to go all Sean Connery, not them. It’s bad enough to turn 35…I don’t wanna look like I’m turning 45.

Oh, and if any of you get the hankering to send a brotha some presents or prizes…they will be accepted. I like DVDs, t-shirts with unusual sayings (size XL), gift cards to Best Buy, Wal-Mart, and Fry’s Electronics, and all things Tang-related. Or just buy me some bass strings, ’cause I need those badly. Send me an email if you want my address.

In other news, it snowed here yesterday. That’s significant, because usually snowing in Dallas is considered to be one of the Seven Signs. We got MAYBE a quarter inch of snow, and there were hundreds of wrecks out there. HUNDREDS. Hell, even when it rains you’ll find one or two vehicles upside-down on the side of the road, with no apparent damage. Can someone please tell me how a hard drizzle can cause a 2,000 pound motorized vehicle to flip completely the fuck over onto its roof, with nary a dent anywhere on the car? How? People drive here like they’re in bumper cars at Six Flags. If there’s a brake pedal in the car, it’s either used too little, too much, or just plain wrongly. I grew up in South Carolina, where snow was as rare as interracial dating, and even so, no one there drove like these people do when there’s just a touch of condensation on the ground. I just don’t get it. What’s wrong with you damn fool Dallas drivers?

Here’s an example of typical Texas weather:

2pm Wednesday: 79 degrees.
8pm Wednesday: 75 degrees.
11pm Wednesday: 50 degrees.
8am Thursday: 33 degrees.
1pm Thursday: 29 degrees.
9pm Thursday: 35 degrees.
7am Friday: 25 degrees.
10am Friday: 35 degrees.
*2pm Friday: 50 degrees.


This is what we have to deal with. Shorts and parkas. Tank tops and long johns. Bleh.


EDIT: Good idea, Randi. Here you go.

My Amazon.com Wish List