Wacky for Beef

One of my co-workers plays bagpipes in a pipe band. Over the weekend, there was a huge highland festival in New Hampshire. That peach of a piper thought of me when he saw this guy, and took a picture for me.

He managed to throw the hammer over the fence.

Big. Strong. Heroic. Hubba hubba.

My coworkers have a pretty good idea of what I like to look at in men. It must be said, though, that I rarely if ever have been with a guy like this. That's not to say that I wouldn't. End of disclaimer.

Long ago I planned to attend that highland festival, but I have a friend who was dancing at a fundraiser for women's charities in Rhode Island, so I did that instead. I brought me a hot date because it's fun to watch boys with a 'hall pass' to check out bobbies and booties, especially when they are shakalaka-shakin'! More to come on that.

I'm inspired. My knee is feeling better and I'm spoilin' to shake my groove thang.

From My Inbox

It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then -- just to loosen up.

Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to think alone -- "to relax," I told myself -- but I knew it wasn't true. Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was thinking all the time.

That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother's.

I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix, but I couldn't help myself. I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau, Muir, Confucius and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly we are doing here?"

One day the boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job."

This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my conversation with the boss. "Honey," I confessed, "I've been thinking..."

"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!"

"But Honey, surely it's not that serious."

"It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as college professors and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on thinking, we won't have any money!"

"That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently.

She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to deal with the emotional drama. "I'm going to the library," I snarled as I stomped out the door.

I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass doors. They didn't open. The library was closed.

To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night. Leaning on the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye, "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it asked.

You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinkers Anonymous poster.

This is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker.

I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting. I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home. Life just seemed easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking. I think the road to recovery is nearly complete for me.

Today I took the final step...I joined the Republican Party.

Heh... It made me laugh.

Prescriptive Nuisances

I will never understand people who think Oxycodone is fun. You can have it... all of it. I'm anxiously awaiting coming down from this pain management nightmare. I'd rather have the pain, thankyouverymuch.

In other news: Surgery went well. In addition to my torn medial meniscus, the good doctor discovered torn cartilage and arthritis (whatever that means... probably that I'm old) while he was poking around inside my knee.

Nodding off now.

Drinking Hijinks on a School Night

I'm on the steering committee for a ladys organization. Last night we had a meeting at a hotel in the town where I live. After the business was completed, we adjourned to the lounge for a drink (which turned into several... never underestimate the thirst of dignified professional ladies). Oh, how the hijinks ensued. We were hit upon by really cute dumb guys (Billy and Curt), we lied about our names (I was Esmeralda... my usual bar name, also the name of my gas-guzzling SUV), and we had celebrity sightings... though I had no recognition of any of them.

At Gillette Stadium tonight, a clash of titans will ensue. There will be a Futbol match between Mexico (VIVA LA RAZA!!!) and Brazil (DOUCHE BAGS!!!). Admittedly, I don't follow the sport outside of the World Cup, but I've got to pitch good energy toward the team representing the country that produced my ancestors and also produces the best culinary mastery on the planet. Anyhow, the Brazil team is staying at the hotel where we were drinking too much wine and telling lies to unsuspecting Lotharios. They arrived while we were sitting in the lounge and a sea of people in green and yellow shirts surged around them as they came through the door. I was told that one of the best players in the world was right there. I looked at him and he looked like the kind of guy who sits to poop, stands to pee, and pukes when too much booze gets past his gullet. I wasn't impressed. Then I was introduced to some guy whose name escapes me (probably because I wasn't impressed by him either) and was told that he is the former general manager of the Boston Red Sox... whatever that means. It was a fair amount of excitement to be around people who are recognized and respected for whatever skills they have... or don't have.

After all the excitement, I managed to get to sleep and woke in the middle of the night having a nightmare about nearly missing my appointment for surgery, and forgetting that I'm not to eat anything for 12 hours prior to surgery, and forgetting to take out my belly button ring prior to surgery. As I started connecting thoughts, for a fleeting moment, I thought the surgery was today. Phwew!! I've got a whole extra day to get my ducks in a row and make sure that in this case, dreams don't come true.

DRUNK

In a mere 36 hours... I'll be having knee surgery. I predict mighty prescriptives and amusing grammar errors...