Listening to: “Head Over Heels” – Tears for Fears

It’s been so cold the past few days, I felt moved to hoof it to the nearest outdoor store and search for legitimately warm clothes. The coats looked delightfully puffy and insulated, but they were all a million dollars; so I settled for one of those hats with the ear flaps and some furry-on-the-inside sneaker type things. All the boots were Uggs, or were trying to look like Uggs. No thanks, dude.

There’s a Calvin & Hobbes for every occasion. No offense to Charles Schulz, but in my book Calvin & Hobbes is hands down the greatest comic strip of all time. It was Calvin, after all, who provided validation and inspiration for many of my childhood delusions. (sorry, fantasies). Not to mention, reading those strips aloud at the tennis club while I was waiting for my mom to do her cardio had the twin function of broadening my vocabulary and fomenting my public performance ambitions.

It’s strange, to think back on what I wanted to be when I was eightish. A cartoonist, living in the Yukon territory, sending my weekly strips to my syndicates via sled dog. Instead, I’m a writer, living in Boston, sending my weekly articles to my editors via email.

Ah, life.

Ryan and I were having drinks last night, and she said something about how we’re both heavy consumers of cultural information. That’s a polite way of saying: we’re geeks. But, you know, wicked awesome geeks. With good wardrobes.

Of course, I’m posting this instead of writing the two articles I’m meant to be writing–one for the Dig and one for a friend. No one should ever trust me with upholding a deadline. It’s gonna get me in serious trouble someday. Hell, it already has gotten me in serious trouble. But I always manage to weasel my way out of it. Chalk it up to being a fabulous bullshitter.

Ach, the 2nd Cup’s closing. Time to head down the street Herrell’s, cause if I go home I’ll just torment the dog or watch South Park reruns and never get anything done. Ta for now.

I like to think of this blog as a big, empty canyon, where I can shout ridiculous things and no one will hear me. At least, not on purpose.