i may be a bird in a cage but at least it's your cage

At some point this fall, I picked up -- from Orson Swindle at Every Day Should Be Saturday, I believe -- the excellent phrase "sack of crazy weasels". As in, "Houston Nutt packed up his family and his sack of crazy weasels and moved them down to Oxford this weekend." Sack of crazy weasels! You guys, I love this phrase a lot. I want to describe everything and everyone in my life as having a sack of crazy weasels. Sadly, this is not true. The only sack of crazy weasels currently in my day to day life involves, well, me.


Two weeks ago, I said The littlest Manning is going to the Super Bowl, and if he manages to dethrone Tom Brady and the Pats, Archie will have to love Eli best for a whole year. And that is why I am rooting for the Giants in the Super Bowl.

ARCHIE HAS TO LOVE ELI BEST FOR A WHOLE YEAR, YOU GUYS. It was a fantastic game capped off by an amazing ending and a round of kamikazes for the bar. And the Tar Heels beat FSU in overtime even after losing their point guard to injury. Sunday was a pretty good day. Here, please celebrate Eli with a Ryan Parker penned victory song. (Song not suitable for Patriots fans.)

Also, I'm really, really hungover. That last kamikaze was a poor idea. shep. even told me it was a bad idea! AND YET, I STILL DID IT. Someday I'll grow up and be an adult, but that day was not yesterday, apparently.

So I went up to Baltimore this weekend, to see the parental units, and their cable and internet were out all weekend. It was ... surprisingly nice, actually, aside from not being able to look at my bank balance. Apparently I need some time away from the internets every once in a while. And I got to hang out with my parental units, who are pretty awesome, and it was nice to be home, for a couple of days, at least.

Also:

• While home, I went down to Hampden to see quicknow and the Christmas lights on 34th Street on Friday night. There's this one block in Hampden that's been putting up spectacular -- and I mean spectacular, entire-block-involved, tourists in cars clogging up the street -- Christmas lights for years now. Ash and I walked around took pictures; my photos from the whole weekend are here.
  
  
• I went up to Baltimore specifically because the paternal unit had gotten me, the maternal unit, and SisCat tickets to the touring production of Avenue Q, which all three of us enjoyed immensely. The two old people who got up and left during the puppet sex song enjoyed it less, I suspect.
  
  
• I also stopped in Bowie on the way home and ipso__facto came and met me at Borders, bearing Christmas cookies and a Nick Markakis bobblehead. I got to spend an hour talking -- well, really, barfing my angst out -- to Lala, and it was really nice. I'm going to make a habit of always catching up with her when I'm on my way home, regardless of the cookies involved, because she's good people. ♥
  
  
• I would like to publicly thank the Anonymous Cowardly Dicksmack who left me a comment taunting me about the Ravens' loss to the Dolphins late last night. Thank you, O Anonymous Cowardly Dicksmack! Without your enlightening comment, I would never have known that the beloved sports teams of my hometown were really, really heartbreakingly bad. Now that you've enlightened me, I shall ... continue to root for them, because they are my teams and I love them, even when they suck and do steroids and suck even after they've juiced. Since you declined to sign your lovely little comment of anonymous joy, I'm going to make the assumption that you're a Boston College fan who's bitter about the fact that the rest of the ACC hates your motherfucking school and wishes you would just go away. And I will remind you as politely as possible that a) I don't really much care for Anonymous Cowardly Dicksmacks around here, and b) my basketball team could -- and will, later this season -- bend your basketball team over so far that your basketball team's mom will be feeling it. *sweet smile*
  
  
• Don't go looking for that comment, because it's gone. It was also delightful enough that I deleted it and then expunged my trash in mail.app, and did the same in Gmail's web interface.
  
  
• In happier news, Patrick the Metrosexual Toyota is the proud owner of a brand new stereo. The radio in his old stereo crapped out in June, and the CD player was starting to go, as well; my trip home on Friday involved a lot of me thumping on the dashboard and shouting, "WORK, DAMN YOU, WORK." The parentals replaced the stereo as a Christmas gift, and it is swank. It has a radio! When you turn the volume knob up, the volume goes up! When you turn it down, it goes down! (These are things the old stereo did not do. Sometimes you tried to turn Gerard Way down so you could answer your cell phone, or have a conversation, and he just sang louder. It was not awesome. The fact that a stereo whose volume controls work is swank to me: pathetic.) And most importantly: it has a built-in iPod adapter, which means that if I can figure out how to sync my iPod with last.fm, the whole world can know exactly how many times in row a shep. and I can stand to listen to The Black Parade in a row. (Hint: it's a lot.)
  
  
• The greatest Christmas song I have acquired from the internets this year: [The Wet Spots -- "Fist Me This Christmas"]. 2MB, .mp3. Needless to say: probably not work-safe, even if you're listening on headphones, because the first time I listened to it, I snorted Crystal Lite all over the laptop. This song is delightful -- no, really, seriously -- in so many ways I can't even, people.
  
  
• Does anyone else watch the WGN reruns of Corner Gas besides me, the maternal unit, and triskellita? Because it's just the most charming, silly Canadian show, and I could use some fic for it. Any fic. Especially good fic.

I thought I had more things to say today, but apparently not! I have to go do work now, ugh.