Buzzogging

(Originally written 2/22/8)
OK, as I sit, it’s 11:25 Thursday night. I just feel like writing. I have no idea about what, I just do. Actually, to be honest-and isn’t that what you expect from me-I do have some ideas “fermenting”. And just to keep the momentum going, and also to challenge me to actually write these when the time comes, here’s my ideas. And by idea, I mean titles. And by titles, I specifically mean “TV Jobs that Look Cool, But Actually Aren’t” , “Gym Stereotypes”, “Tuesdays With Maury”, “New-ish CD Reviews (Joe Jackson, Blue Rodeo, Justin Currie), “I Challenge myself to do 5 Things I have Never Done Before” and last but not least, “Who Of My Friends I Suspect is Totally Gay”. Geez, I am just making more work for myself.

But let’s start with the title of this. Buzzogging. It harkens back to a friend of mine whose name started with P (cue Beavis voice “ a huh huh, pee”) and when he “blogged” he called it Plogging. So I ripped that off to Klogging for the ol’ Missile message board (RIP, all my best work). As I sit, we’re expecting a ‘major snow storm’. And by major snow storm, I mean 2-3 inches spread out over hours, followed by ‘wintry mix’, which usually means sleet, freezing rain, ice and general assholery out on the roads. I really think it will be no big deal. Can someone explain to me the difference between sleet and freezing rain? Anyway, in cases like this, I always say it’s not the weather that causes accidents, it’s the motards out on the road who don’t know how to drive. (Time check 11:36, not even 2 paragraphs, and way too many typos. I will require more rum.)

I hate snow. I hate cold. It is my dream to one day live on/near a beach. That is my ultimate goal. Well, that, and Christina Applegate’s phone number. We can all dream. Did I say I’m not editing this post? What was I buzzogging about? Right, snow. I have often said “You can’t shovel heat.” And that is why summer will always win out. If you’re hot, you immediately cool down once you hit AC. If you’re cold, it will take you a few minutes to feel heat. I don’t like to shovel. I don’t like to clean off my car. I am a wuss in the cold when it comes to walking the dog. It can be clear, blue skies, but 20 degrees, and the poor boy is staying inside. The last 2 days I have forced myself to take him for walks in 20 degree weather. I am bundled up like…like…like..shit, I don’t have a payoff for this. But Knucklehead is bareass naked, and he can walk all Goddamn day long. Sure, he’s hairier than me, but we both shed as much these days.

My beautiful wife is hoping for a snow day. She has all kinds of rituals to get a day off from school. There’s some sort of snow dance. And something to do with wearing clothes inside out. Today she told me of a new ritual. Get a load of this one. She thinks to help make it snow and get the day off-or at least late entry-drop an ice cube in the toilet. Listen to that again-drop a fucking ice cube in the toilet. The logic as she explained it to me is that flushing an ice cube will make the ground colder, thereby making snow much more likely to stick. As much as I would like to go all Mythbusters all over that, deep down, I know she will more than likely score the day off. Goddamn, it fucking pissed me off to watch the news tonight, and see an assload of schools are already cancelled for tomorrow. It hasn’t even snowed a flake tonight. And these fucktards get the day off, into a 3 day weekend. I know, I know, wah wah wah, back up the wahmbulance. The out of work loser is whining about others getting the day off. But that’s not the point. The point is, when all of us were growing up, we’d have to drag our asses into school. (Time check 11:52-almost one page in. But shit, still only another 2 paragraphs. Genius takes time, yo.) These days, just the mere threat of more than a third an inch of snow is enough to cancel school. If I was a parent (scary thought) I would want my rugrats in school so it wouldn’t disrupt my work sched. But that’s just ignorant me. (Second page hit at 11:54. For the record, I always write/blog/buzzog these posts in Word because it’s easier to save, then copy over to MySpace.)

Here’s the ironic part. Teachers get the call for a day off/late entry via phone call. So if the phone goes off anywhere between 4-6 AM, we both know why. As I’ve written here before, I have an extremely hard time falling/staying asleep. More irony; our phone, cordless phone, rests on my side of the room. Did I mention that suspiciously enough, it just happened to die tonight? So there it rests, mere inches away from me, but seemingly miles away from her. I know the phone will go off and wake us both up. Here’s the kicker; she’ll get up, take the call, call the next teacher in the chain, and fall dead back asleep. Meanwhile, I will be up. Because it burns me up that she has off. And I will let that fester. Meanwhile, she will get all excited because she has the day off, dance some sort of thankful jig to the Snowgods, then fall right back to fucking sleep. At this point, I am up. I might as well shovel off the massive half inch of snow off the cars and drive way.

I made sure we were covered for tonight. I am sucking off the teat of a new bottle of coconut rum. I went out and got it (now) last night. She was all fired up that I had 2 drinks while she was out tonight. Then I called her on it. I said “Yo, if you’re so sure you have off tomorrow, drink the hell up, bizzotch.” OK, so maybe it didn’t come out quite like that. Regardless, nancy didn’t keep up. That’s OK, more for me. So you can thank the discount rum for powering this post. Usually it’s shoe polish that powers me to write. (Time out, refill and golden chair. Talk amongst yourselves.)

I am a bit concerned, as my beloved Wings play a huge game tonight here against division leading Minnesota. It seems there is always one game per year that has weather implications. The Wings are on a huge tear at 5-0, facing the 6-1 Swarm. The forecasters here are all but saying “shitty” for tomorrow night. Thankfully, it’s my good, good friend Flyin’s turn to drive in his SUV. I get the sinking feeling that there will be no school tomorrow and this will fuck up the game tomorrow. I hope not, because at this point, the only open times at the big house are Tuesdays at 6 AM. Actually, that would kinda rock. It’s not too late to hop on the Wings bandwagon.

(It’s 12:23, running out of steam and jokes, but I have a freshie, so let’s see where this goes.)
Running out of ideas, but still feeling inspired. Goddamn this fucking no editing challenge. You Goddamn non-updating motards better appreciate this. Yea, I see you. Never bothering to update your profile. Or write anything new. It’s just me out here, spilling my rum laden guts for all to see. I can see now I am turning violent. OK, drink half gone, and no new ideas. Just me against a blank screen. Just a few more lines, and I will get to 3-uh sorry I meant three-pages.

OK, that’s it, I am officially empty. I don’t have anything else to write about. I can only hope that on the slim, slim chance we actually get snowed in tomorrow, I can somehow get some new buzzogging going on for tomorrow. I will make a deal with you. IF Tara’s lameass school gets off (again, cue Beavis voice “A huh huh, gets off”) tomorrow, and IF there’s no Wings game tomorrow, I promise to get buzzogged again and write some fresh shit. OK, I’m off to eat my usual bedtime meal of cottage cheese and peanut butter. And coconut rum and coke. Yea, if that sounds disgusting, wait till tomorrow morning.

BING! 3 pages. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did drinking.