Argh. I'm sick. Again.

Why? Why does this keep happening to me?

I am positively livid. I had a nice, restful weekend. I've been taking good care of myself. And all of a sudden, one cold day comes along and my nose stuffs up and thoat gets sore. This is so unfair!

My brother has developed a list of his favorite 100 movies. I think it would take me days just to recall 100 movies I've seen. 100 albums on the other hand...

Hmmm... I think I have a new challenge.

Apparently Beth and I aren't the only ones who have something to say about the whole Bob Dylan/Victoria's Secret thing.

Thanks for the article, Mom.

While channel surfing and folding my laundry this weekend, I'm embarrassed to say, I got stuck on "Wildboyz". Although this Beavis & Butthead-meets-Crocodile Hunter show is utterly juvenile, it did have me rolling on the floor with laughter when I wasn't completely aghast. The show combines minimal factual information on various animals with host's own adolescent observations, usually having to do with the animal's genitalia, or in the case of the musk ox, the animal's admittedly heinous amount of dingleberries. The show also involves plenty of interesting attempts at interaction with the animals including Steve-O walking on stilts with large pieces of food hanging out of his mouth in an attempt to make out with a giraffe ("I got tongue!") and the boys donning a zebra-print, old-school, two-man horse costume and trotting around with a herd of zebras. (In this instance, the hideously lucky twosome were actually pounced upon by a young lion who trotted off proudly with the head of the costume.) Certainly not mind-blowing material, but entertaining nonetheless.

They have not died in vain.

Iraqis now have the right to blog.

As I was reading an article the other day, I noticed the biting tone and I started thinking about how sarcasm and cynicism have somehow become associated with what is "hip" and "intelligent", and sincerity and hope have become associated with naivete and simple-mindedness. And it made me sad. Not only because this is a fallacy, but because it's a trend I find myself guilty of perpetuating.

I think my all-time favorite song just might be Bob Dylan's "Tangled Up in Blue", not just because it's a gorgeous story-song, but because I just love the phrase "tangled up in blue". It's the perfect, poetic way to describe how sadness can get a hold of a person. It doesn't really knock you over or smother you. It's more like an entanglement that's tough to get free of. It's not devastating. It just slows you down.

I know, I've been falling behind on the training. This whole thing has ended up taking even more time than I planned. But fear not. I am not giving up the fight.

I'm way too mule-headed quit.

This weekend Beth and I went to Gettysburg a discovered a few things about ourselves and each other. For instance Beth discovered that Cub Scouts make her uncomfortable, mostly because they are "so eager". (I'm still digesting that one.) And I revealed to Beth that people in historical costume kinda freak me out. Now I'm sure not everyone can expect this same level of self-discovery at this historic battleground, but Beth and I hope we've given you something to aspire to.

I'm not sure what kind of education system they have in Carlisle, PA, but it is obviously in need of aid. For the second time in less than a year, I have encountered a toll booth operator at the Carlisle exit off the Pennsylvania Turnpike who had no clue how to make change. When the toll came to $7.60 and I handed her $10.10, she was completely baffled. "But....it's $7.60," she stammered. "You don't need this," she said as she handed me back the dime. "But, I'd like the quarters. The change is $2.50," I calmly replied. "I'm sorry. I just can't do this," was all she could say, flustered and she made me take the dime back.

Am I wrong, or this not that complicated? Once I got my change I should have combined it with my dime and asked for $0.50, but it just wasn't worth it.

I think the funniest show on TV right now just might be MTV's "Pimp My Ride". For those of you who haven't yet checked this out, basically some teen writes in about their junk car and how they get made fun of and asks MTV to "pimp my ride". So this crack automobile customization team descends upon somebody's poor '86 Cutlass Supreme with it's vinyl seats, busted electric windows, and sagging ceiling cloth and turn it into a garishly eye-catching, pimp-o-riffic automobile. The humor lies not only in the outrageous features added to these cars (TVs, PlayStations, DVD players, racing seats, suede interior (!), karaoke machine (?!), fish tank (?!!)...) but in that fact that they drop $8000 tricking out an $800 car. It's ghetto-riffic!

Thanks for your concern, Everyone, but I'm okay. My long day on Tuesday was not a bad one. Just a long, boring one that never seemed to end. I think we've all had those.

I think today was the longest day in the history of the world.

What a great week it's been for baseball. The Tigers are 5-1, best record in the AL. After last season's 0-9 start, even a life-long Tigers fan like myself wouldn't have expected this. It's even better than seeing A-Rod hit 0.172!

I am in shock. My world is crumbling. Why, you ask? I should think the answer would be obvious: Bob Dylan is showing his face in Victoria's Secret commercials. I'm pretty sure this is one of the signs of the Apocalypse.

I suppose it has been a gradual process. With the commercialization of society, the artistic community has one by one whored out themselves and their work for ever-increasing payouts. I was saddened when I heard Ray Charles singing the praises of Powerball. I wept when I saw B.B. King shilling Burger King. But seeing Dylan, an artist whose work has been conspicuously absent from merchandising, sell his image and gorgeous song "Love Sick" for a lingerie commercial is, well, devastating.