Don't Call It a Comeback...
Well, it's taken me almost a month to find something worthy of succeeding the Chuck Norris post. This is not that post...
I 've been busy with work a lot lately, or working hard to avoid it. I've narrowly dodged the bullet when it came to going on a business trip this week. It's nice to freeze my ass off at home as opposed to freezing my ass off up North with a bunch of enraged French-Canadians. I would hope if I were to deal with enraged French-Canadians in the future, that I would at least have sunshine, puppies, and rainbows in the background to stem off the inevitable tears.
On the bright side, the parties lately have given me the wonderful excuse to drink too much and then go play in the snow,. In fact, after I get done with this ponderous training class today, I'm going to be all apt to go at it again. It makes me glad that Scott gave me a WWI style army helmet for X-mas so that I'm no longer a danger to myself when I've slogged about in whiskey-tainted egg nogg for the better part of an evening. "Slog" is a fine verb and deserves more usage in this blog.
I actually still have some food preparation to get done when I get home today before the vultures (party guests) slip in. I did some baking last night (kick-ass homemade fudge and some other goodies), but I still need to put the finishing touches on a few things. Yes, I bake. My domestication is progressing at an alarming rate. By this time next year I'll even be putting the toilet seat down. I'm so domestic at this point, that I've even pitched a show to the Food Network (TM) with the tentative title of "Don't touch that food, fucker! It's for the guests!" Due to Rachael Ray having a restraining order against me however, I'm not holding my breath. It may just end up on a late night infomercial slot starring me, George Foreman, and the Bluth "Cornballer". Look for the salad dressing with the creepy face of a guy in a WWI army helmet in you grocer's aisle sometime next year. The whole above paragraph is a delusion of grandeur not to be taken seriously, with the exception that I may someday learn to put the toilet seat down.
Also, since it seems to be that time when everyone has their end of the year "Best of" lists, here's my list of my top 10 favorite albums from the past year:
1. The Boy Least Likely To: The Best Party Ever
2. The Hold Steady: Separation Anxiety
3. Sufjan Stevens: Illinois
4. Iron & Wine/Calexico: In the Reigns
5. Bright Eyes: I'm Wide Awake It's Morning
6. Sleater Kinney: The Woods
7. Antony & The Johnstons: I'm a Bird Now
8. Steven Malkmus: Face The Truth
9. LCD Soundsystem: LCD Soundsystem
10.Feist: Let it Die
I 've been busy with work a lot lately, or working hard to avoid it. I've narrowly dodged the bullet when it came to going on a business trip this week. It's nice to freeze my ass off at home as opposed to freezing my ass off up North with a bunch of enraged French-Canadians. I would hope if I were to deal with enraged French-Canadians in the future, that I would at least have sunshine, puppies, and rainbows in the background to stem off the inevitable tears.
On the bright side, the parties lately have given me the wonderful excuse to drink too much and then go play in the snow,. In fact, after I get done with this ponderous training class today, I'm going to be all apt to go at it again. It makes me glad that Scott gave me a WWI style army helmet for X-mas so that I'm no longer a danger to myself when I've slogged about in whiskey-tainted egg nogg for the better part of an evening. "Slog" is a fine verb and deserves more usage in this blog.
I actually still have some food preparation to get done when I get home today before the vultures (party guests) slip in. I did some baking last night (kick-ass homemade fudge and some other goodies), but I still need to put the finishing touches on a few things. Yes, I bake. My domestication is progressing at an alarming rate. By this time next year I'll even be putting the toilet seat down. I'm so domestic at this point, that I've even pitched a show to the Food Network (TM) with the tentative title of "Don't touch that food, fucker! It's for the guests!" Due to Rachael Ray having a restraining order against me however, I'm not holding my breath. It may just end up on a late night infomercial slot starring me, George Foreman, and the Bluth "Cornballer". Look for the salad dressing with the creepy face of a guy in a WWI army helmet in you grocer's aisle sometime next year. The whole above paragraph is a delusion of grandeur not to be taken seriously, with the exception that I may someday learn to put the toilet seat down.
Also, since it seems to be that time when everyone has their end of the year "Best of" lists, here's my list of my top 10 favorite albums from the past year:
1. The Boy Least Likely To: The Best Party Ever
2. The Hold Steady: Separation Anxiety
3. Sufjan Stevens: Illinois
4. Iron & Wine/Calexico: In the Reigns
5. Bright Eyes: I'm Wide Awake It's Morning
6. Sleater Kinney: The Woods
7. Antony & The Johnstons: I'm a Bird Now
8. Steven Malkmus: Face The Truth
9. LCD Soundsystem: LCD Soundsystem
10.Feist: Let it Die
posted by Brent at 2:05 PM
9 Comments:
As cool as Chuck Norris is, he was wearing out his welcome. Wow, so domestic--what gives? I think that'll impress the hell out of the trannies who like to hit on you. Sounds like you're having fun, keep it up.
Rockin' your peers, puttin' suckas in fear.
Any "Best of" list that does not include LL Cool J is automatically disqualified from being taken seriously. I know he didn't release an album this year (at least I don't think he did), but damn. Brother can't get no love?
Really, I thought you were dead. Hey, will you wear the helmet for the next profile pic? Also, "slog" is a fine verb, well-known by past wearers of the WWI helmet.
I would say "welcome back, fucker!" but we both know it'll be a few more weeks before the next post.
Psudo-welcome back
he's alive...HE'S alive!!
happy holidays, brent!
That fudge was the bomb diggity...
Hey, there's no such thing as "whisky-tainted egg nog." If it doesn't have whiskey in it, or rum or some other libation, then it AIN'T egg nog. And it's about 66 degrees in Birmingham right now. I'd like to see some snow here. Cuz Daft Punk is playin at my house my house.
I would totally watch a show on Food Network called "Don't touch that food, fucker. It's for the guests!"
Brent.. I was clearing space on my comcast account and found this little gem. I kind of forgot I made it.
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