* I've been noticing a bewildering resurgence of the "Double-D" lately (a.k.a. "double-denim," "denim-on-denim" and/or "the Guido Tuxedo"). Specifically, I'm talking about the blue denim jacket (or "jean jacket") with blue jeans combination (pictured at left , manfully modelled by the endearingly ridiculous Cult circa 1987) . As anyone who knows me can vociferously attest, I know as much about fashion as I know about molecular biology, but I know wrong when I see it. Maybe it's back in some sort've ironic, kitschy way (like mullets and pre-faded vintage Queensryche t-shirts) or maybe people have simply forgotten the rules? Or have the rules changed? I dunno, but it looks wrong, that's all I'm saying.
* Our little son turns three months old next week, and in such time, while he's tripled in size, he has patently refused to pay any heed to the parameters imposed on the rest of us by the clock. He will simply not sleep at night. If anything, he usually only sleeps with any semblance of tranquility starting around 7 a.m. (when the rest of the household has to get up and start the day). And given that he's perpetually hungry (this factor being especially hard on the Missus), I've done a little thinking and come up with only one explanation. We've given birth to a vampire.
* Beware the Instant Messenger! I had a truly mortifying experience yesterday when I accidently sent a needlessly catty comment via I.M. about another individual TO THAT VERY INDIVIDUAL (as opposed to an entirely different person I'd earlier been back'n'forthing with). It wasn't a hugely offensive statement, but it wasn't especially charitable either. In any case, I was ENTIRELY BUSTED (and deservedly so, if one believes in Karma) and had to explain myself, backpeddle and ultimately apologize. To this individual's considerable credit (otherwise a very solid, cool guy), he handled it with grace, humor and aplomb (whereas I sat praying for an anvil to fall out of the sky and put me out of my misery). The lesson here is two-fold: one's shit-talking will come back to him in the end and, more to the point, MAKE SURE YOU LOOK BEFORE YOU HIT "SEND".
* I'm done with my street-side hot dog lunch habit. On Tuesday, I had one and ended up spilling mustard on one of my fave Killing Joke shirts (well, one of my nineteen favorite Killing Joke shirts, at least). Much like other recent culinary bad omens (punctured cereal packet that caused major milk leakage last week, and a bottle of rancid milk way-past its sell-by date a couple of days later), this seemingly banal incident set the tone for the rest of a day that turned out be skull-dentingly awful. I'm not saying it was the hot dog's fault, but still….NEVER AGAIN!
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