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That’s what I’ll be listening to over the weekend. We’re expecting a nor’easter over the weekend, which is nice timing in one way, and bad in another. Bad because I have shopping to do, a birthday party my son at the bowling alley, and my mom’s birthday, all this weekend.

Plus this means I’m going to have to shovel. So I have THAT going for me too. My dad gave my snowblower a tuneup (which mostly consisted of removing the field mice and nest from the engine, but I assume there was also an oil change. I should call and ask if he left gas in it. Now that I use an electric lawn mower, I don’t really have need for storing gas all summer. Hey dad, if you read this before I call you, drop me a line or call me, okay?

[delete, delete, delete. Oopsie! Please ignore.]

Oh, and welcome to all the people who stopped by after reading the new Barbie article. Don’t forget to come by often, y’hear?

Wandered over to LILEKS (James) The Bleat to see what he was going to do for his month-long blog break, and what do I find? He’s copied my “put your face down on your keyboard” entry from last week. The nerve of this guy, who is read by tens of thousands daily, copying me and my little 150 or so-per-day hit page.

*sniffle*

Oh well, I’m sure that even though I read him, he doesn’t read me.

Lessee, what else. Oh, I heard THE radio commercial of the century yesterday. I’ve got my dial tuned in to 104.5, mostly because I love the morning team of Zito, Jen and Steve (Less music, more talk! Less music, more talk!), but now, because the new format is All Christmas Music All the Time (until the 25th.) Duuuuuuude! You had me at hello!!!

Oh, so anyway, this is the only part of the commercial I remember, because really, none of the rest of it matters. “Give the gift of Botox”. Good gravy, if someone gives me the gift of Botox I’m giving him the gift of an swift belt to the solar plexis, if you catch my drift. Sheesh, talk about insulting.

Today was “decorate the house with Christmas lights day.” Was it that day for you too? I think the high temperature hit nearly 60 degrees, so you can imagine we were looking for any excuse to play outside. After swimming Junior spent some time playing with his cousins at my mom’s house before we all had lunch at Burger King. Then Junior and I went to buy this year’s lights. I know they are reusable, but before you say anything, I leave them up until spring and by then, especially after last year’s winter, all the color was worn off the bulbs. Useless to me, you see.

I let Junior pick this year’s color scheme, and God Bless his soul, he likes blue lights. I love blue lights outside…just think they look awesome. I could never get Mr. Dump to do blue lights – he actually wanted us to do white lights (which just doesn’t scream “Christmas” to me, and I want my house screaming, baby.) Over the years I settled for red outside, and eventually got my way with multi-colored. But Junior said blue so we looked for blue. Then he said he wanted red too. We have two bushes on each side of the front steps, so that works out. Well, funny thing – I’ve been in this house for nine and a half years, and this is the first year that the shrubs are so big that one string of lights wasn’t enough. So we had to go back to the store, and I decided to splurge on one of those white deer with the head that goes up and down because Mr. Dump always wanted one, and they were always too expensive. Well, Brooks had them for $18.88! I can do that!

The thing is, the way I decorated the front, it’s, well, patriotic. I didn’t mean to do it that way. Junior said he wanted the red closest to the house, and I did that, but the spot where the deer worked the best meant that it’s now red, white and blue, in that order.

Well, you know, whether or not I support what we’re doing in Iraq, I DO support the people who are over there, and I know this is the worst time of year. So let’s just say that I did my decorating that way on purpose, shall we? (Now I just have to keep myself from flipping the lights on between now and Thanksgiving, when I generally start with that stuff. I love the holidays!)

Oh, you’re probably wondering about this post title, huh? Junior came home from school about a month ago and told me he’d learned a new song, called “My Country Tis”. That’s way too cute for me to correct him. Oh, and he does a stellar job singing it, if I can brag for a moment.

He knows today’s the day I start my NaNo Novel, so he arranged for it to be 74 degrees outside.

I hate when I get behind on my word count the very first day.

They sell the New York Post in our cafeteria (along with the Wall Street Journal, the Financial Times and the Boston and Worcester papers) and I picked it up because of the photo on the cover, showing Nelson and Garcia, who they say will be charged with something related to the Williams’ attack. I turned to page 4 because that’s where the full story was, and the sidebar caught my eye. I have to assume it was an editorial, but it didn’t appear on the editorial page, it was on page 4 with the other news. And the following snippet caught my eye and lodged in my skull. I paraphrase, because I didn’t want to have to buy that nasty piece of trash just to get the quote correct.

“the grandpa was hurled down by the nasty, millionaire punk.”

Uh, wow. Grandpa. Well, I guess if he’s a grandpa he’s 100% innocent. Grandpas never do anything bad. Or wrong. Or stupid. I like that we’re referring to him as a grandpa. He’s probably too soft to be holding the position he does, then, right? Unfriggingbelievable. Every time I think I’ve calmed down enough to get past that game, I read something like this. You know, if some wacko takes it upon himself to somehow hurt Pedro to avenge “Grandpa”, every single person who wrote trash like this Post “journalist” should be held accountable. Cause sweetheart, when you write stuff like this, you’re no better than anyone else who got involved in the skirmish out on the field. Takes a punk to know a punk.