Sponsor Me!

So, I've come up with a list of things I'd like to be able to do, and I'm relying on you, my WIDE and VAST and AFFLUENT readership, to sponsor me. Probably I'll set up a paypal account or something. Or just mail me cash, and write on the bills in sharpie which item you're sponsoring.

Item 1: Run a Triathlon. I need help here in buying equipment, making me get up to run in the morning, and mostly pushing people out of my way in the water so I don't get scratched or drownded. Possibly I would accept you constructing some sort of plastic bubble for me to float along in. Though ideally that would be for the running part so I wouldn't have to work too hard.

Item 2: Live in Spain as a fishmonger. This is a well-known dream of mine, but so far no one has volunteered to pay my airfare or to teach me the monger. I could also use people speaking Spanish at me in that weird accent they have with the "ths" and "shs" and all.

Item 3: Be 5'6". This involves a baseball bat, a weird metal instrument and absolutely no squeamishness, from what I understand. Or, you could fly me to Mexico where they'll pretty much do whatever surgery you ask them to.

Item 4: Become a world-famous juggler. As I am currently a regionally-famous clutz, this might actually involve impersonating me in performances and then allowing me to bask in the glow of fame and riches that will surely follow.

Ok, that's it. Let the money and favors roll in.

I have been remiss

So, those "in the know" tell me that one is supposed to blog more often than once every few whenever I feel likes its. I'm not sure WHY this is, or what exactly it would accomplish for me, but I can only assume that there are secret prizes lurking in the wings for best posting average (rate stat) or largest number of posts (counting stat). Blogger's Prospectus is of course coming up with new ways of measuring who is the best poster all the time, like VORB (Value Over Replacement Blogger).

Anyway, all statistics/baseball joking aside (*audience sighs*), there WAS a Houseboy meal recently that I neglected to record for the annals of time (read: until the Pulse wipes out technology or I erase my blogger account). So, this particular meal was cooked... say, Thursday, and it was pepper-crusted salmon, asparagus and Houseboy's first crack at mini Mexican chocolate souffles (soufflai? soufflora?). I have to say, I was a little disappointed that there wasn't a comical deflation of of the soufflè, but got over it quickly and enjoyed my delicious muffin full of air (I'd never had a souffle before, and that's the best description I can come up with). I took a picture of the empty container, but Houseboy is not as interested in downloading pictures and e-mailing them to me as he is in cooking for me, for some reason.

Anyway, I was able to bring some leftovers to work for the advancement of my bragging career, but no leftover soufflè, so I don't have much hope for the Superstar award this month (not that the scones won it for me LAST month anyway... apparently some people really hold a grudge when you fill their keyboard with superglue).

Ok, so outside of following a good friend around on a self-declared bender this weekend (resulting an out-of-town friend wandering through Cabrini Green alone and an acquaintance being thrown out of the beautifully named "Joe's on Weed" for punching a wall), not much is new in the world in or around me.

I'm all social and whatnot

So, normally I'm what I like to call "mildly agora-resistant." Meaning I really prefer to stay under my many ratty blankets eating microwaved pot pie and Easter candy and watching baseball to just about anything else. I get my groceries delivered. I get my pet food delivered. I once tried to get Houseboy to brush my teeth for me so that I wouldn't have to walk the 7.3 steps to the bathroom.

Anyway, that should make it all the more shocking that, not only have I "done stuff" three times in the last week, it was all (yes ALL), unusual, mildly irritating and generally out of my comfort zone. First, last Thursday Houseboy and I used a gift certificate to go see a play at The Goodman called Massacre. Upshot of this play was that it was about how Hispanic people in this country have allowed their hearts and minds to be co-opted and controlled by white racist charactarizations of their culture. I was kinda hoping for more blood.

Then, on Wednesday, we went out with Houseboy's baseball friend: a person I like very much, but who happens to be a sign of one very wrong thing in baseball: he's a native Texan and a Cubs fan (f'n WGN). Anyway, a friend of his was a part of a travelling socialist puppet troupe. Yes, I recognize that that sounds made up, but there's really nothing I can do about that. I promise it's real, and I promise we went. I can still smell the general reek of artsy socialists and their apparent disdain of soap and deodorant. Lesson learned there was that... um... oh, something about George Bush and the war, but there was a giant puppet elephant that was cool.

Finally, yesterday I lured Houseboy out to a forum on the non-profit industrial complex with the lure of Greek food. Panelists discussed the control of 501(c)3 nonprofits by the government, the wealthy, and foundations and how to escape the cycle of tax breaks and social control. Then I ordered a whole pizza and a giant bowl of hummus.

This weekend I will not be answering the phone or opening the curtains, and I will most likely smell like a socialist by Monday.

Vote for ME!

Last night I was feeling grumpy and generally out-of-sorts, despite the Twins' imminent sweep of the Orioles (undefeated! Yeah! If this were football we'd be rolling!). So, Houseboy thoughtfully constructed some delicious scones out of the remaining milk, butter and chocolate in the house. Not only did this brighten up my evening, it gave me a reason to get out of bed this morning AND something to share with my coworkers to make them jealous, increase my chances of winning the Data Superstar award and all around make up for that time I flooded the floor because I wanted to know what it would be like to work on an island.

Torii Hunter's a big copycat

Last night was Twins opening night, so of course Houseboy did a reprise of the afore-blogged-about mac and cheese and invited over our ex-roommate/Catholic convert to watch it on the real TV... this was one of the two Twins games that will probably be televised on ESPN this year since winning their division 4 out of the last 5 years, having last year's Cy Young, MVP and batting champion winners and being all-around upstanding citizens does not make them worth watching according to the Secret Tribunal of Sports Importance. I'm sure there will be more on this the first time I see NASCAR on during a baseball game.

Anyway, Houseboy had Jason "Bartles and Jason" Bartlett as his "pick to do really good tonight," Roomie had Justin "Island of Dr." Morneau, and I had Torii "Can't Pick Him as My Favorite Player Because Then He'll Leave or Get Traded" Hunter. Things started off in Roomie's favor, as the Doctor hit a clutch second inning homerun. Dusty Baker was guest-commentating and he actually used the word "clutch" to refer to scoring the first run of the game. However, not to be outdone, Torii "Should Have Gotten Credit for, Like, 50 Homeruns Last Year If You Count the Ones He Stole From the Other Team" Hunter came up next and did the same damn thing.

Neck and neck in the "I'm smart and picked a good player to do well in this game" race, Roomie and I were on the edges of our seats for the next appearance of our picks. Morneau hit a liner down right center and got erroneously called out at second. Torii winked in my direction and then knocked out basically THE SAME HIT and pulled in safely to second, assuring my victory. A lot more stuff happened that wasn't nearly as interesting and then the Twins won 7 to 4.

Also, poor Soriano suffers on in the dugout chats:

http://dugout.progressiveboink.com/archive/jon108.html

And I saw the Sun Times headline this morning about the Cubs escaping the "Evil Grasp" of the Tribune... or somesuch. Anyone have $600 Million I can borrow?