Good people, I challenge you: if you don’t have a very particular day (in MM/DD/YYYY format) in mind, go to your nearest calendar and write on one of the days “Special Bottle of Booze.” Any day of any week of any month. It doesn’t matter. In fact, I don’t care what day! Just pick one! Throw a dart if you have to!

Why do I tell you this? Because if you just keep saving it for an as-yet unknown special day, you will continue to build it up in your mind to the point where no day will ever be good enough to indulge in your sacred nectar.

This way, you have made the occasion. That day you’ve just marked on the calendar has become a special day. You have reason to look forward to it and you will undoubtedly enjoy that special bottle, perhaps more than if you waited for a special day to fall into your lap.

Go for it, guys. Because there’s no sense waiting for that immaculate day. But the day will be excellent if you make it so.

Besides, I hate to see good hooch go to waste by just sitting in the corner.

Cheers!

“There’s this weird guy outside my window I’ve seen pretty regularly.”
“Weird how?”
“Well, I see him throw something in the air and wave his arm around a bit. I got closer the other day and saw that he’s throwing rocks in the air and trying to catch them.”
“Where is this?”
“Over by the FAA building.”
“Think he’s a federal worker?”
“He certainly seems qualified for the job.”

But don’t you then wash both your hands with the ANTI-BACTERIAL soap once you’ve got it?

First, I’m nearing the end of my school career and I’m busy assembling my portfolio.  That takes quite a bit of time.

Second, I have less motivation to type up a blog than I used to.  The upside of this is that I’m seriously considering starting my own audio podcast.

So, to all my geographically local buddies, let me know if you’re interested in being heard by podcast listeners and I’ll let you know if I’m going forward with this plan.

Now I know I’m not the only one who, when they heard this, stopped and said, “Hey, wait a minute…”

Why is it the women with the most hideous taste in jewelry always have a million different examples?  It’s like their goal is to eliminate any sense of style and just leave a bad taste in my mouth.

I got a theory that it’s their way of compensating.  Kind of like men having a nice car.  Except you can’t drive an earring.  And most necklaces don’t get satellite radio.

As many of you know, the system that the Obama administration is trying to push on us is modeled after the British system.  Many Americans have no experience with the particulars of this system, so allow me to open your eyes.

Again, this is a true story.  My coworker’s father (citizen of the UK) was on vacation last year when he had his heart attack.

“He had the heart attack on Thursday 14 August and was taken to hospital that evening.   He was on a small island called The Isle Of Man, which is near Britain.   They checked him over and made sure he was ok.

Friday 15^th, they just monitored him but decided a heart specialist needed to take a look at him.

It was then the weekend and the heart specialist wasn’t due in until the Monday, so he sat in hospital and waited.

Monday 18^th, the day came and went, no specialist arrived.

Tuesday 19^th, the specialist arrived and checked him over.   He wasn’t satisfied with what he saw and decided that he needed to be in a bigger hospital for an angiogram.   He would be flown to Liverpool, in England.

Wednesday 20^th, an air-ambulance helicopter was arranged to take him to Liverpool but there were no spare beds in the Liverpool hospital, so he couldn’t be transferred.   He went nowhere.

Thursday 21^st, still no beds in Liverpool hospital, so they agreed to transfer him to Southampton hospital.

They arranged an air-ambulance plane to take him but Southampton said they had no ambulance car/truck to pick him up from the airport.

Friday 22^nd, still no transfer, over one week since heart attack!

Saturday 23^rd, he finally flew from Isle of Man to Southampton, where he was taken to Hospital.

Upon arriving in Southampton, he was told that as it was a weekend and Monday was a public holiday in the UK, so nobody would see him until Tuesday.   However, he was not allowed to leave the hospital.

Tuesday 24^th, finally had his angiogram, 12 days after the heart attack.

The angiogram looked ok and they sent him home!”

Remind me never to have a heart attack in England.  Or here, for that matter, if Obama has his way with our healthcare system.  In fact, note to self: don’t get sick.

Obama’s health care plan is essentially taking the long lines and disgruntled workers from the DMV and applying them to hospitals.  The only difference is you’d be literally bleeding to death while you’re waiting in line.

Can’t understand why folks think this might be a good idea.

“Drunk dialing offers only in-the-moment smiling.”

Not bad for on-the-spot, right?

And it doesn’t change as we get older.  Case in point, I was playing a little Battlefield 1943 on XBox Live.  Out of habit, I connected the headset.  Not that I had anything to say, just that if it’s not connected all the voice chat flows through the main speakers and my parents don’t necessarily appreciate the foul language.  Also, if it gets obnoxious, I can always turn down the headset volume.

As a side note, Battlefield 1943 is really hard to play without an HDTV.  All the letters are really tiny, friendly icons are inconspicuous, and I can’t see a damn thing when I go into buildings (though that may be because the contrast is really screwed up on my set).

But getting back to my story, I was playing along with my mic muted because, well, no one else was talking and my folks picked those few hours to move stuff around in the basement so there would’ve been a lot of background noise.

About halfway through a match on Guadalcanal, someone logs on and decides to make a comment every time he gets killed.  And in the most colorful language, too.  Language that would shock me if I didn’t hear it from all the other 12 year olds on XBox Live, but still not something I’d want my little cousins to hear.

So after a few minutes of his rants and raves (I had hoped he would grow tired of getting killed all the time and log out, but that proved a typical pipe dream), I finally had it.  I turned on my mic and said “Dude, if you got nothing else to say, turn off your mic.”  Then I turned my mic off.

Of course, because everyone sounds the same on the voice chat, I don’t know whether the offender told me “Ah, shut up,” or someone else told him “Yeah, shut up.” 

Point is, that was the end of it.  I didn’t hear any X-rated rants from then on.

So my request to you all is: if you have a headset but have nothing to say, turn off your mic.  I don’t want to hear about it every time you get fragged or you’re asking your mom for five more minutes of play time before you have to take out the trash.  Hell, I don’t even want to hear your dog barking when the doorbell rings.  It’s really friggin annoying.

So stop it or I’ll bury you in a box.