The End is Nigh

Ummm, sometime tonight, we're gonna have to initiate the end of the world.

Two reasons:

1. I've got poison ivy on both feet and lower legs. Don't ask me how it happened, though I think I'm gonna blame recent contact with small animals that enjoy rooting around in poison ivy. I'm not scratching. I will not scratch. However, we will end the world to make the itching stop.

2. Somebody hit on this blog when they were searching for Free nudes of Ariana Huffington. Society is too sick to survive.

However, that makes me smile because because maybe somebody's charging $9.95 a month for the Ariana Huffington paysite, and somebody else is too cheap to pay.

And now: a few thoughts as they hit me:

We've got the top two teams in the National League Central playing right now as I write, and ESPN is reshowing the 2002 World Series of Poker instead? What, couldn't anybody find the tapes from the most recent World's Strongest Man Competition?

Once upon a time, I and both roommates I had at the time sat captivated, completely mesmerized, by a competition being run out of Bristol, Tennessee and being shown on ESPN. It was a car rolling competition. Drivers would hit the passenger side wheels on a ramp, and they would get points for each quarter turn the car flipped. We watched for an hour and a half.

With no baseball (Little League WS doesn't count), I wrote a little. Meanwhile, Storm Stories was playing on the Weather Channel. I loves me some shows about tornados. They had a guy who couldn't get into his neighbors house when an F4 twister was coming his way because the door was locked. He stayed on the neighbors' porch, and ended up dazed and confused with a broken pelvis.

If it comes down to being inside during a twister or out in the open, I'm going to break the door down to get inside. I realize that it's impolite to break neighbors' doors down, but dammit my pelvis is among the most important bones on my body.

But first I'm going to be very sure that a tornado is coming. Because breaking a neighbor's door down and saying "I was running from the tornado" doesn't play well if no tornado actually shows up.

Yeah. Like I could break a door down.

I would punch John Salley in the belly if he patted my head in the condescending manner he just patted Fabiola da Silva's on Best Damn Sports Show.

No, not really. I'm full of sound and fury tonight, all of it signifying nothing. But that's all life, isn't it?

Daniel Baldwin is less qualified to talk about sports than Tom Arnold. I'd never have thought it possible.

Today's meals: Toast for breakfast. Tuna for lunch. Apple for a snack. Spaghetti for Supper.

The DVD Player is kaput, I think. The roommate let me borrow his Playstation 2 in order to watch the DVDs.

Am I the only person with the word "fugly" still in his vocabulary?

I would like some cookies. But I cannot eat the cookies. Cookies are tasty, but bad for me.