smacky and bucky

Remember a few posts ago I said I wish I had the energy to clean out my car? Well, now I have to do it. A friend of my wife's is going to visit us at the river this weekend. Except she needs a ride, and since my wife will be in a meeting all day, her friend is coming to our house after work and riding down with me (I said with, perv!). I also have to bring the dog. I'm sure it will be fine, as long as we don't have to talk all the way down (three hours of small talk will kill me), she can stand my music (and really, I have so many different styles she has to like every fourth song, at the very least), and doesn't mind if I curse at traffic. (I do this with the windows rolled up. I curse to stop myself using hand gestures. I try not to escalate a problem. Otherwise, some guy cuts me off and suddenly we're reenacting the climax to Road Warrior and the man with the loincloth and hockey mask pulls up beside and tries to spear my wife's friend. And none of us need that.)


Damn, where did that come from?


If you've seen the second season of Home Movies, you might remember Brendon and his father have Pizza Club. (Wow, there's a site with an episode guide, so read about Pizza Club HERE.) Yesterday afternoon I did a lot of work at the other house, the haunted place that won't sell, and wife met me and we went to a fancy wood grill pizza place for dinner (The wood grill was the fancy part. The place itself is an average strip mall store.) I told her this was the first meeting of our pizza club. She got cheese, and then I cheated and had a calzone. Oh well, it's my club, my rules.

I watched Lost last night, of course. If you're a fan, you don't need to hear me rave, and if you're not, that's your choice and I don't need to convince you otherwise. And since 23 million people watch it, ABC doesn't need you either. So there.