Woke up this morning to aches and pains and a Beck that would not rise for the morning exercise... so I waved the surrender flag and forewent my morning run, too. I guess it's possible to try running too many days in a row.
Been psyched at the comments lately - Frank chimes in with some good intellectual commentary, I make the postmodern real-but-not-real acquaintance of Mike NTPB's girlfriend*, my brother says he will comment but then doesn't (a veritable 72 in golf), and my dad refers to Man Ray's famous surrealist work "le violin d'Ingres" as "some violin's butt." And we haven't even really gone live with this pup! Seriously, feel free to spread the word and make me nervous, make me feel like I should actually write something worth reading rather than the usual Nyetian sludge. Speaking of sludge, apologies for the SOC rant yesterday which got labeled "Faulknerian" by MNTPBG's SLF, which means that either it's actually a lot better than I thought or Faulkner sucked. Use a comma, man. Sheez. As I lay proofreading.
* - Actually, you could argue that I just made the acquaintance of the disembodied text that was theoretically typed by MNTPBG's SLF, and then further argue that since the author is dead, I didn't really meet anyone, just read some text that appeared magically of its own accord, making no true reference to anything not contained therein. Man, post-structuralism is annoying. Anyways, the backdrop story should be told, that we (the Beck and I) recently sent a card to Mike and Karen, only we needed Karen's last name for reasons of formality, so we asked mike to send it lest we call them the Gordons. Mike replied with something like "Hicks - please don't address us as the Gordons!" Beck replied with something along the lines of "Okay, sorry, but what's her last name?!?" This made us laugh for a minute or so.
SO props to Karen for commenting sight unseen, and for her comments' bright contrast to Beck's response which was "You think too much in the bookstore." Which prompted Beck to recall the time that she was in the bookstore and a little girl was looking at Christopher Moore's book The Stupidest Angel and annoyingly commenting along the lines of "Who would call angels stupid? That's horrible; what a mean man." This for some reason annoyed Beck more that the average bookstore bystander and she was about to give the girl an iron-fisted talking to when the little girl's big sister told her that it was "just a book; let it go." When I asked Beck exactly what she planned to say to the would-have-been terrified youngster, and whether the girl would have had any idea it was coming, Beck said "Oh, she knew; I was giving dirty looks to the back of her head." Woah.
Okay, that 's all i've got on this lazy Sunday (on which the Patriots - woohoo - just crushed the Jets). I made some changes earlier to the good ol' wedding website (nothing major), so check that out if you're bored. Otherwise, kick back and enjoy the remainder of the dying weekend...
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