Happy, the End

Just mixed up a big batch of homebrew pale ale, which is cooling in a bucket in the bathtub so I can add the yeast and starting waiting for it to gestate into beer. That, and I recently caved into my creeping sense of apathy and let my gym membership lapse, saving me $50 a month and leaving me to my own devices, fitness-wise. Which is probably for the best -- toward the end, I was getting horribly bored with the weight machines, and started doing lunges and push-ups. Which require no weights and no machines and no gym. I resolved to stay in some semblance of "shape" anyway, but the Italian soup Janine whipped up tonight (of which I devoured two enormous bowls) bodes ill. Good thing the New Year isn't far away -- I had a good resolution a couple of years back, maybe I can make another one.

Doesn't look good, though -- I'm slipping into that awful, no-pressure, carefree comfort zone in which I don't even feel like keeping in shape's that big a deal, but damned if anything's going to keep me from this book! Something about an briar patch...

Tomorrow on the Freeway

Picking up where I left off with one of the worst weeks in recent memory, revolving mainly around the continual success of my Metro to get me to work followed by its continual failure to get me back home. There's still something wrong with the alternator belt, which I'll have to work out sometime tomorrow between five and six in the morning. It'd be smart to figure it out now, but I'm sleepy.

This, paired up with my work situation, in which I'm "monitoring" construction activity to guard against violation of pristine archaeological resources. A worthwhile endeavor, although the construction is taking place in an area that's been previously churned up numerous times before. Which means I'm watching men dig holes for eight (and this week 10!) hours a day. It's actually a pretty good opportunity to scribble some chapters in my Nanowrimo work, but writing fiction while standing or while perched on an I-beam is oddly uninspiring.

Place of my birth, I'm a-comin'.

Sing My Life

In the same vein as Stacy's type-your-name-into-Google idea (which gave me a bit of a shock initially -- the first thing my eyes landed on when I saw that post for the first time was, "Stacy is pregnant!" Then I saw, "Stacy is a schizophrenic film," and thought maybe she was going all Dada on her posts. And then I got it.), I tried typing my name into Rhapsody's song browser to see what songsmiths over the ages have been writing about me.

1. "Andy" -- Indigo Girls. How sweet. They must have seen me in the audience during that show in Columbus in '92.
2. "Andy" -- Frank Zappa
3. "Andy Gets Fired" -- R.E.M. Guess Stipe got mad I never came to see them. I feel bad about that too, Michael. Everyone needs to vent, I understand.
4. "Andy, Who Are You?" -- The Way It Is. Afriad I'll have to return the question.
5. "Andy in the City" -- Kaley Willow
6. "Andy Always Dreamed of Wrestling" -- The Bobs
7. "Andy You'll Be Alone in Heaven" -- Carrigan. How creepily nice of them to say.
8. "Remembering Andy" -- Clare Cooper
9. "Desperate Andy" -- the Cranberries. Hell hath no fury like Dolores O'Riorden.
10. "Call Me Andy" -- Marc Shaiman. Please, do.
11. "The Summer of Andy" -- The Cancer Conspiracy. Eek. A song about '98...

And then we have "Me and Little Andy," "Jim and Andy," "Fred and Andy," "Elvis and Andy," like I'm always somebody's fucking sidekick. Anyway, there were 116 hits -- talk about a really freakin' narcissistic mix cd...

Change of Plans

Things have altered somewhat over the past month and half since I last posted -- not necessarily bad things; it's one of those situations in which the good and bad come in pretty equal measures, and the bottom line looks like it might turn out better than I would have expected. And everyone likes lists, so:

1. Remember that house we were going to buy? We're not going to buy it. The builder and the associated mortgage company we were going through turned out to be supremely unreliable and inept enough to assume the problems we were having as we got closer and closer to the closing date weren't going to be the last problems we were going to have with them.

2. We've been in very close contact with my mom back on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and will probably be paying her a visit next month.

3. Meanwhile, not blowing a ton of cash on a house means we have more left over for things like a badly-needed computer and cable modem. Probably the main reason I haven't been posting much of late is that I've been subscribing to NetZero dial-up. No, wait, that's accelerated dial-up -- I wasn't supposed to be able to tell the difference between that and broadband. It turned out to be the internet equivalent of the Chinese postal system. One of the most satisfying things I've done all week was to call NetZero and cancel my subscription. The new Dell's on its way. Expect more posts when it gets here.

4. The job at ACS is coming along just fine -- I'm still (and shall remain for a while longer) the new guy, but I've got some writing credits under my belt, some small projects I'm in charge of, some newbies to boss around every now and then. Life's a piece of cake, archaeologically. Wow, how's that for a contrast from a couple of years ago...

5. I freaking loved New Orleans. I spent New Years of '97 there, walked Carter around the French Quarter, had my first mufaletta... Yet another of the many, many instances in which I ask myself, "What if Gore had won..." In this specific case, I'd wage the answer would be, "Fewer people would have died." That might actually be the answer to to every instance.

That's it for now -- I've got to take a shower and step out for a while -- Phoenix is still largely an unexplored country, although I do know where all the good brew pubs are... E-mail me to request a special Director's Cut edition of this post!

Shiver in My Bones Just Thinking About That Heather

Happy birthday to everybody's favorite Heather! I trust she (definitely) had a blast, and may this whole year in the Big Apple be hugely cool. Maybe I should introduce you to the Marthas...


Heather the Bedouin

Guilty Pleasures

I know I shouldn't get my hopes up about Karl Rove being tried and "rendered" to Egypt for treason (re the Valerie Plame affair). Until the day that I can, I always enjoy some well-written sniping.

Breathe, My Pasty Friend

For Your Buds

Sorry in Advance

Bent Offerings