Can I get a resizzle?

Random musings...

Rain on homecoming -- a fitting fate for a silly "tradition." I can't wait to see the smug alums soaking in their seats. I really am an asshole.

Apologies to T. Dubs -- early wake-up call for the free press box food, eh.

Sweater weather, at last. I'll debut my Kyle Nagel-esque sweater-over-collared-shirt look at today's game, unless it warms up considerably in the next 45 minutes.

Chris Berman is doing a superstition story. Why doesn't it turn out this good when the CoMo'ian does it? No offense, Maureen and E. Montgomery Burns.

Electrical disaster update: The phone works. The bedroom has power. The DSL works (on the laptop). The ethernet card is fucked, built in to the logic board and costs about $500 to replace. I hate lightning.

Ciao, baby!

Dirty B gonna buy yo micahwave

For this blog and this blog only, I will be known as Dirty J.
Dirty J sorry Dirty J hasn't blogged in so long. Dirty J been busy. Dirty J apologizes, but Hoosiers in the Capital City and Sterling's Pearls of Wisdom have been postponed indefinitely. Dirty J got more pressing matters to bitch about.

Some of you might know about Dirty J's electrician problems. As of last night, Dirty J has his main phone line working again, thanks to the -- Dirty J wouldn't call him prompt, but efficient -- Keith with Mid-City Electric. Keith will be making an encore appearance this afternoon in an effort to repair Dirty J's latest electrical disaster.

You see, last night Dirty J was trying to transfer the Net Zero software -- a byproduct of the initial electrical disaster which apparently killed not only Dirty J's phone line but also Dirty J's DSL modem and quite possibly Dirty J's ethernet card. When Dirty J plugged in the zip drive to move the software from laptop to desktop, the power in the bedroom went out, but only the power in the bedroom. This had happened to Megan once before, while Dirty J was at work, but the power miraculously came back on 10 minutes later.

On this more recent occasion, Dirty J should have been so lucky. The power works in two of five outlets in the bedroom and the overhead light fixture doesn't work at all. Go figure. So Keith is coming back, baby! Dirty J will be happy if he never has to see an electrician again.

So, as a byproduct of the phone line getting zapped, Dirty J has been without DSL for three weeks. That sucks. When the phone was re-established last night, the DSL still didn't work, indicating that the modem had been fried. CenturyTel obliged with a new modem at no charge. Now, the DSL works on the laptop, but not the desktop, which seems to indicate the ethernet card is fucked. Great. Just what Dirty J needs.

On top of that, Dirty J's cat, Fat Chile, has vomited twice in three days. The first occurrence was because Fat Chile, dumbass that he can be, decided it would be a good idea to eat some ribbon. It wasn't. The second, about half an hour ago, was inexplicable. Fat Chile just started moaning, got down from his throne and puked. Go figure.

Dirty J won't bore you with the details of the Oklahoma trip because Nick and Maureen covered it quite thoroughly. Dirty J would rather just drop inside jokes about said trip. I would make "Nick" and "Maureen" link to their respective blogs, but Dirty J isn't that techno-savvy.

Dirty J's sorry he wasted your time.

That's it...that's the list

People who are off the list (in no particular order):

1) Steve Kline, for being a bitch. No one on the Cubs wished harm upon the Cardinals, only losses. I would have taken Kline on my team any day, but not anymore.
2) Our waiter at BW2 last night. He was shitty, rooted for the Marlins, and then had the nerve to include a $10 tip he didn't earn on a party of five (Holly only had water). Not cool.
3) People who wear team memorabilia but don't care about said team. C'mon.
4) The Colorado Buffaloes, who destroyed my hopes of not being in Boise for New Year's Eve.

People who would have been off the list had they ever been on it:

1) Rush Limbaugh.
2) The crazy woman who peed her pants in the store when I was working at Slackers in Jeff City on Sunday. Gross.
3) Dave Veres.

Things that make me crazy or make me laugh:

1) Crazy: Stores parading out the Thanksgiving stuff a month before Halloween and shoving Christman down our throats in mid-October. Slow down people.
2) Laugh: The first two businesses you can see from the road when driving north into Ashland are: Woody's Pub and Grub and Crazy Dick's Lawn and Garden. Good stuff.
3) Crazy: Dave Veres.

Next time out: Hoosiers in the capital city and Sterling's Pearls of Wisdom.
Stay tuned.

Veres goes nothin'

Damn Dave Veres. Shoulda let the Cards keep him.
As you might have guessed, I'm not pleased with the Cubs' loss to the Braves on Wednesday, but I'm holding out hope that they'll win two at home and put it away.

So I went to St. Louis to pick up my pa-in-law, Dean Dean, at the airport. I hate Lambert International Airport. On the first pass through, I wind up in the five-minute pick-up lane. On round two, I end up in the rent-a-car shuttle bus lane. On round three, I ace it. Short-term parking garage. Woo-hoo! This thing is more confusing than Turner Avenue Garage ever dreamed of, and I get to pay $1 per half hour. Lucky me. In other words, if you need someone to pick you up at the airport, fly into K.C. or don't call me.

My sister-in-law just called me to get the "spin" on the MU-KU football game. Simple. Missouri sucked, it knew it sucked, it told the world it sucked. She said she has heard several alums calling for Pinkel's head this past week. Some fans, huh. I guess Pinkel's penthouse to outhouse theory is in full effect, a real self-fulfilling prophecy.

Just so you know, what we (by this I mean I) do is, we get really wrapped up in new fads for a few days, a week or two maybe, then we lose interest and stop doing whatever it is altogether. And that's what we do in our program. So, I would suggest I'll post on this blog and read everyone else's for a week or two, then you'll never hear from me again. That's what I would suggest.

Over and Out.

Guess what I just did...

I can't believe I just started a blog. I swore I'd never do this, but that was when the only one I had seen was basically used like a journal, except that the whole world could read it. Bad idea. (see: Daniel Young, Kathryn Handley)

This world of blogs befuddles me. I have a lot of questions and would appreciate any help any of you can offer. Apparently, everyone I know has one and they're all linked together as if by some sort of magic. Tom Wyrwich has one, for the love of god.

I still have morals, right? I mean, I haven't seen Twister -- I consider myself the only person from Kansas who can make that claim. I haven't seen Titanic -- I might be the only person in the country who can make that claim. I don't own a hipster trucker hat -- shout out to E. Tuttle, whose blog I randomly stumbled upon thanks to a link from someone named Erica at the Missourian, whom I probably know but don't know it. But I did see "The Rundown" -- sorry "Football" Nick.

So, I'm officially in this strange blog community. Less than 24 hours ago, I didn't even know they were called blogs. Now, I throw the word around like I learned in first grade vocabulary. In researching these things in an effort to decide whether I should have one, I noticed a blatant lack of profanity, which worries me. If I'm gonna use this thing, it's gonna be to vent my frustrations about various topics, thereby making me a healthier person emotionally, by God. So, in a roundabout way, my question is, "Is profanity allowed?"

If you have questions about the name of my blog, ask Nick or Maureen. If you have questions about the address, or whatever it's called (jj-sac.blogspot.com), my peeps at the Missourian often call me "jj" and my peeps at Slackers often call me "sac," so there you have it. I figured if I can randomly stumble onto Erin Tuttle's blog, she can randomly stumble on to mine.

So, welcome me with open arms to your weird little blog community. I'm here to suck a good 10-15 minutes a week from all of your nonexistent free time. Ha. Payback is hell.