I have purchased the tickets. And while I am too old and responsible to wait in line to see it the second it comes out, our seats are reserved for Friday night at 8:30. I have a feeling it might be a bit crowded. What do you think?
sylkenvelvet : So when are you gonna take my quiz, eh? I realize that means reading my site, but still — I figured you’d be first to do the COMPLETE smart-ass version ;>
Well, far be it from me to disappoint…
Four years is a helluva long time to be clickety-clacking on your keyboard, writing down bits of life and shards of dreams for the possible gratification of total strangers. It takes a kind of madman to even think that something like that would be worth doing. Fortunately, we have such a so-and-so right over there on our non-existant blogroll.
Yes, it is the anniversary of the original publication of The Mighty Geek. It’s the blogger equivalent of a birthday. But without cake.
What is it that makes The Mighty Geek the funniest blog on the planet? Is it the froody way he twirls the memory sticks in his head in order to spit out nonsensical ramblings about toilet paper and snot? Or is it the hyperbolic chamber in which you must rest after reading his insanely meticulous descriptions of his sexual liaisons with his Xbox? I think it is a little of both, really.
Now, excuse me. I have to go decompress. I’ve just finished going through all his archives on Bread. I think I just felt a nitrogen bubble burst in my head.
*blows dust off monitor*
Well, I’m back, kidlets, and none the worse for the wear. I had a faboo time in Nashville (despite that whole working thing), and my only complaint is that I didn’t get to spend enough time poking around in its cracks and crevices.
On Friday, the Orlando contingent arrived a little ahead of the pack. So, we headed over to the Opry Mills mall for some lunch and a quick peek at the Opry House. There’s a free museum attached to the Opry, so we spent a few minutes looking at glittering piles of rhinestone-encrusted memorabilia from Roy Acuff and friends. Though it sounds kinda weird, the two things that fascinated me most were the complete recreations of Patsy Cline’s den and Marty Robbins’ office. Those poor naugas. No wonder they’re extinct.
Friday night after our reception finished (around 11pm), a bunch of folks headed downtown. I had a lovely Iron Horse Stout at the Big River Grille & Brewing Works, then walked up Broadway and popped into the Second Fiddle to hear a band and choke on some cigarette smoke.
For the most part, the weekend was taken up with conferences and meetings, but we did have our annual awards dinner on Saturday night, and the entertainment, magician Kevin King, was great (or should I say “a hoot”).
On Sunday night, I got a chance to meet the wondermous Busy Mom. I was just talking to Bran about cosmic connections last week, and I think this is one of them. We recognized each other from a mile away (even though I’d never even seen a picture of her). It’s like we’ve known each other forever. And, like a couple of old geezers, our exciting evening of painting the town plaid consisted of going to see Kicking and Screaming (which would have been kinda boring if it weren’t for Will Ferrell) and getting dinner at Ruby Tuesday.
Like I said on her blog, I’m almost sorry to have met her, because instead of wondering how neat it might be to visit a “virtual” friend, now I get to miss hanging out with a real one.
I’m not one to apologize for not writing in his blog, but in case you were wondering where the hell I were, I thought I might at least say something. Like, for example, I might tell you that I am headed to Nashville for our company’s annual client conference. The highlight of the trip, of course, will be the chance to meet Busy Mom live and in person. (Aye, the air will hang heavy with puns that night, I tell ye. The very walls will melt from the 12-year-old humor that will be flying aboot. I think the White House is pressuring Tom Ridge to raise the terror alert for this.)
If you weren’t wondering where the hell I were, I’m damned proud of you. You finally have a life. Good going.
I could post something of great import.
Or I could just take another swig of coffee and watch more movie trailers…
Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
Went to a free preview of Ron Howard’s new movie Cinderella Man. It was pretty good. My review is at Blogcritics.
I told you all about Cinco de Mayo last year, but this year is even cooler, because it’s 5-5-05. That’s some heavy convergence right there. The fiesta hasn’t been this numerologically kewl since 1955 (and won’t be again for another 100 50 years).
Next stop on the mystical dates parade is 6-6-06. Unfortunately for all the parties being planned by satanic cults (not to mention the “duck-and-cover” apocalypse watchers), archaeologists recently discovered that the true mark of the beast is not 666. It’s 616.
So, I guess we just got 5 less days to live? Rats. I was hoping to catch up on my reading.
But let’s live for today. In honor of the date, here’s a list of all the 555 numbers used in movies and TV.
I’m finding out that songwriting inspiration comes from the strangest places. Take this one I’m posting tonight, for example…
Back a couple of weeks ago, Jules posted a desperate kinda thing that was basically: “If you and I were stuck in prison for 20 years, what kind of stories would you tell me? Would you sing me a lullaby?”
As usual, I was going to make a wiseass comment like: “I can’t sing you a story, like sailors do. I can’t tell you a sweet lullaby.”
Well, somehow, that stuck itself into the middle of this dark little song about a guy who may or may not have done something terrible to the girlfriend who just dumped him in a hotel room watching “On the Town.” (Don’t ask. I have no idea where this crap comes from.)
So, right-click and save. If you don’t like it, you can blame Jules!
