Death of a Chair

This is a piece I have entitled "25 Dollars Down the Drain (I)"

Truly an awesome experience - there I was, sitting, typing, putting the final touches on the glorious piece of dredge that was my weekend sum of the baseball when

pop.

And I went hurtling to the floor. Interestingly enough, this is not the first chair malfunction I have had this weekend - Dan can attest how my attempt to sit in a folding wooden bleacher chair with both hands occupied (dog and soda) resulted in hilarious consequences and a shattered, bloody big toe nail. This time I landed square on the rump, but suffered no injury other than the usual increased heart rate that accompanies loud noises and sudden drops in elevation.

Alas, no O mask.

So that was awesome; the grand "Ab ball as desk chair" experiment has quite profoundly rejected the null hypothesis; ab balls suck. Ouch. Humiliation. Fright. A sudden aversion to the leotarded sections of fitness centers.

I also left out of the weekend's account that we spent the afternoon and evening with Dan and Christina, or more exactly we spent the afternoon with D&C and the evening with Dan and some comatose vagabond on our futon. Thankfully, our trained, food-deprived attack dogs were on the case:

I mean wow, that's one serious violence in action photograph right there, borderline contraposto. Seriously, though, we had a great time with D&C on a relatively chilly 98 degree Scottsdale poolside afternoon; many more to come I'm sure (even if they did cause the Cubs to lose on the TV).

And I'll leave you with our latest artistic installment in the living room, something I've entitled "Rapt: More than $25 Down the Drain, But Less Apt to Pop (I)"

Oh, and if you are not awesome and have a new couch, then perhaps you should contemplate your place in the solar system by checking out the lunar eclipse tonight.