I Am Not An Addict, And I’m Not Denying It (I’m Curious, Is All)

So this is the second time today I’ve experienced the extreme need of getting to my computer.  It may be an early sign of addiction, but I’m not denying it, so there! 

 During the drive home, on the radio, David Bowie and Queen’s Under Pressure played away, and I actually listened to the entire thing and enjoyed it thoroughly.

What’s the big deal? you might think, or I can’t believe you actually did that! or What’s the B.F.D. you addict!?

Well, here’s Part One of why I needed to get home – I used to hate that song.  I despised it to the core.  I don’t know if it was Vanilla Ice’sliberal borrowing of the back beat for his horrendous tune or David Bowie’s lavish oddness and his affinity for the indulgent, but it was a station changer for sure.

Part Two of why I needed my num-num (laptop) – it made me extremely happy hearing it, and I needed to know why.  I don’t even know if it’s supposed to be a happy song, or what any of its lyrics are.  I decided that it must have reminded me of something I liked so much that all of my past transgressions against the song faded away.

Courtesy of the wonders of the TripleDoubleU, voila!  (I’m so embarrassed, btw…)

Do We Live In A Uri-Nation?

I have never raced back to the office in such a hurry to post something so juvenile.

As I left a client, taking the back alley, across the street further down the alley, I saw this:

(Not So) Artistic Representation

(Not So) Artistic Representation

 At first, I wondered if it was a small child sitting on a ball, or if it was a person at all and my mind might be playing tricks on me, but nope!  The being in question stood up and drew up their drawers.  Yes!  I had witnessed public… something… and I needed to further investigate.

I had already turned away from the alley, so the next step was to turn down the following street.  Why such levels of curiosity?  I needed to know, for some reason, whether it was a dude dropping a deuce (because it’d be gross that he didn’t wipe) or a lass writing her name in Sanskrit (which is still kinda gross about the whole wiping thing).

As I may my left turn in a hurry, I spotted the culprit taking her seat on the brownstone’s front steps.  She was on her cell phone and it appeared, by my summation, not to be a new call!  Movers were taking things into the house around her, so why didn’t she relieve herself inside?

Was she afraid of getting caught with her pants down?

Happy Find… How To Dance: The Final Chapter

I think my brain melted over the weekend. 

During my marathon of a certain horror film series that gets its reboot this Valentine’s Day weekend, I stumbled across a particular scene in The Final Chapter (not really) of Friday the 13th that I had seen once before.  While working on an older post about Back to the Future’s Crispin Glover, I had played through some videos of his career and life missteps.  This is one glaring example of a misstep if I ever saw one: