Which is the MOST Distressing?

I’m going to be gone for a few days (Vegas, baby), so no new posts until Sunday. In the meantime, however, I will let you ponder a series of highly distressing news items.

1. The list of cases to be considered by the Supreme Court this term is out. Let’s see, what do we have? Campaign finance. Tax stuff. Evidence stuff. Oh, and the ever-pressing case of ANNA NICOLE SMITH vs. OLD DUDE’S MONEY. Yes. Anna Nicole Smith is going to the Supreme Court. Yes, THAT Anna Nicole Smith – with the slurred speech and the general bizarro-world tendencies. And yes, THAT Supreme Court – with all of the black robes and such. Sometimes the world truly is a UPN sitcom.



2. Ben Affleck is apparently seriously considering a run for the Senate. Yes, THAT Ben Affleck -- with all of the bloat and the occasional bad facial hair and the predilection for women named “Jennifer.” And yes, THAT Senate – with all of the judicial confirmations and grandstanding and occasionally amusing filibustering.



3. Scientists have for the first time photographed a live giant squid. It was/is 25 feet long and left behind a tentacle that was 6 meters long. Just ponder that for a moment. 25 feet is more than four of you stacked end to end. That is a whole lot of squid and is enough to make me never want to go in the ocean again.

A Tale of Two Protests

I didn’t really pay much attention to the pro- and anti-war protests held over the weekend, partly because the issue is clearly far more complicated than a stark “Yeah, war!” or “Boo, war!” position can capture.

I admit I was amused to learn, however, that while the anti-war rally had at least 100,000 attendees, the pro-war thing attracted just 400 people (hee). Furthermore, I was QUITE curious to see how various right-wingers would spin this disparity. After all, the talk among this crowd for the past several weeks has been that the war protesters are a tiny little group of Sheehan-ites who are vastly outnumbered by Americans supporting the war effort. How then to respond to a 999,600 person gap?

I’ve seen two attempts at explanation so far:

1. The anti-war protest was just attended by “liberal loving, America hating” groups such as NOW and PETA, while the 400 people at the pro-war rally were true individuals (or “folk”) supportive of the war.
2. Liberals are like sheep who will just mindlessly attend rallies, whereas conservatives are individualists who won’t stoop to that level.

I actually think my love for reality TV and my love for political spin (on the left and the right) are related. Both highlight the ridiculous. And I LOVE the ridiculous.

Overheard & Overseen

OVERHEARD: "From now on, I vow to study one night a week. I mean, as long as I'm studying one night, it's okay for me to go out the other nights, right?"

OVERSEEN: Four layers of funny

1. Man on Segway



2. Man on Segway trailing a pair of leashed weiner dogs



3. Man on Segway trailing a pair of leashed weiner dogs and getting into a fight with a group of State Street ruffians



4. Man on Segway trailing a pair of leashed weiner dogs and getting into a fight with a group of State Street ruffians but having to run (or more accurately "to Segway") away

“You’re… YAWN… fired!”

Even Trump is sick of his stupid show.

He started this fourth go-around by dividing the teams into men vs. women. Why? Because otherwise he has a hard time telling the teams apart. I do NOT kid.

And later, one of the many confused folk who choose to emulate Trump was describing why his team was named Excel. “We intend to excel in every task and our excel-ing is part of our general excellence and…”

“Sounds great,” breaks in Trump. “I’ll see you tonight.” He could not possibly have been more bored.

The rest of the episode proceeded as usual. “Leader X is not utilizing me to my full potential!” “Candidate Y is a disruptive force and is far too difficult to manage!” “I was fired only because everyone else is so very jealous of my beauty and intelligence!”

I think I’m out. No more Apprentice for me. We’ll see if I can stick to this vow, but God willing, I will find the fortitude.

"You Just Don't Fit In"

Well, that was underwhelming.

I hadn’t quite gotten around to finishing my preview of The Apprentice: Martha in time to post it before the first episode aired, but I can assure you that the contestants are the usual batch of deluded blowhards. There are former beauty queens, people who intend to give 110%, an eye cancer survivor, and someone who owns a company that produces lowfat wheat-, dairy-, and egg-free cookies (basically, cookie-free cookies).

Watching the first episode, though, it became clear that a preview is unnecessary as this thing really is just a complete carbon copy of Donald’s Apprentice. There’s the fake interaction between Martha and her employees. There’s the constant bitching about having too little/much leadership from the project manager. There’s the always boring reward for the winning team. And there’s the standard firing of the losing project manager.

The whole thing felt almost exactly the same as previous Apprentice installments. Except Martha is admittedly a somewhat better actress than The Donald. And she writes the fired candidates a nice note to read as they depart to loser-ville.

A Day Without Google Is Not A Day For Me

I have this feeling that someday we will all be bouncing our grandchildren on our third replacement knees while telling them outrageous tales from back in the day when the internet was a fun-loving free-for-all.

Because I’m concerned that this all might change.

The question is whether this TimesSelect business is the harbinger of the future or a brief blip in the otherwise uninterrupted mayhem of the internets. For those of you who haven’t recently tried to read the latest Paul Krugman & Company on-line, the New York Times is now charging $50 for yearly access to certain portions of its coverage. Including the op-eds, which are the only things I regularly read.

This is scary. Because what if Google starts charging $.05 for every search? Or e-mail postage fees start becoming the new thing? Either I will go broke in a week or I will have to crawl back into the information-less cave from whence I came.

Or perhaps it’s all a big conspiracy. Much as we now blame tobacco companies for encouraging the addiction of future customers, we may soon blame the dastardly comedy of Television Without Pity or the newsworthiness of Salon for making us all internet addicts. There will be terrible TV movies thirty years from now starring Maddox Jolie and PMS which chronicle the woes of a generation going through severe internet withdrawal.

To make matters even worse, I have to confess that I don’t understand AT ALL how the internet works. I really haven’t the foggiest. In fact, I have this recurring nightmare where I get transported back in time as the salvation of previous generations.

“Show us your automobiles, future man,” they will chant. “Create for us the wonders of the iPod.”

Oh, how I would disappoint them. I’m not even sure I could make fire. And NO WAY could I produce a toaster. Or indoor plumbing. Or pretty much ANYTHING that is a marker of the modern world.

So let’s all happily go about our business enjoying the internet while it lasts. Google with abandon, I tell you! Be not ashamed of checking your e-mail 20 times per day! Because someday soon, it may all change.

At Least Stupid West Wing Didn't Win Again

Before proceeding with other matters:

1. Welcome to your new existence, Eli Q!
2. Congratulations on your continued existences, J.Bro and Spice!


Other matters:

Did you-all have Emmy fever this weekend???

I thought not.

Nonetheless, for those of you who didn’t stick through the endless-as-always ceremony but still want to participate in Emmy-related banter about the office this week, I have taken one for the team and am providing you with a brief list of the key Emmy-related happenings.

1. Flowers are the new “twee plastic bracelet for a cause.” And magnolias are the flowers that best capture Hollywood’s feelings regarding Hurricane Katrina victims.
2. Everybody Loves Raymond STILL won a lot. Which is bad. But the big one dedicated his award to Brit-Brit and young Preston. Which is funny.
3. Shatner and Jon Stewart kick ass. Everybody else sucks.
4. Trump wore overalls. See #3 and note that Trump is neither Shatner nor Jon Stewart.
5. The Desperate Housewife no one really cares about won the Emmy. Sadly, there were no tantrums or hair pulling among the others.
6. Patricia Arquette had really bizarre hair. And she won. Which is equally bizarre.
7. Boston Legal won stuff, but I’m not convinced that show actually exists.
8. Charlize Theron looked really bored. And Patricia Heaton did not clap once when Hurricane Katrina was mentioned. Scandal!
9. Actually, you can add Zach Braff and House to the not-suck list. Their shtick about British accents made me giggle ever-so-slightly. Of course, both of them lost.

That’s all I got. This is a really boring post. But I’m too tired to do any more.

Huricane Katrina: The Infomercial

I’ll give Bush some credit for focusing on poverty reduction and home ownership in his speech this eve. And for again accepting some responsibility. But that whole 1-877-xxx-xxxx bit was strange. Not only did it scream “But wait! There’s more!!” but it seems to me that it’s a bit late in the game to start advertising toll-free methods of reuniting family members separated by the storm. Shouldn’t that have started a week ago?

And I must say that I still sensed a lack of urgency. I get that this isn’t a President known for his speech-making and rhetorical ability to convey emotions. But he is generally quite capable of expressing these sorts of feelings when talking about his upcoming vacation or his new nickname for a foreign dignitary. Why not in the midst of a national crisis?

For me, a valuable comparison has been to the whole Terri Schiavo mess six months ago. Remember? Congress passed a “Save Terri!” bill and President Bush was woken up in the middle of the night and flown from his Crawford “ranch” to sign it. The explanation for the urgency then was “Hours matter. A woman’s life is on the line.”

Yes. Hours matter. Food for thought post-Katrina?

Stupid Technology

My left iPod ear bud is experiencing technical difficulties. It’s all crackly and distorted and sucky. To fix it, I have tried:

1. Putting it on my counter and glaring at it
2. Shaking it wildly over my head
3. Flicking it with my index finger

None of these have worked.

In other news, Britney Spears-Federline has a baby boy! And I absolutely cannot wait to find out what she names it. You KNOW it will be terrible. Cheeto Federline? Something with several silent q’s? Kevin Junior? Table Spoon Hyena Federline? Who knows?

And even more hilariously, there now becomes a distinct chance that two different friends of mine may give birth on the same day as Brit-Brit. Hold off until midnight, y’all!

UPDATE: While I was initially utterly disappointed to learn that Brit had gone with the seemingly dull "Preston Michael Spears Federline," this all changed when I realized that she had actually named her spawn "PMS Federline." Well played, Brit. Subtle.

I Actually Kind of Miss the Bowling Moms

Time for Round Two of the Reality TV Fall 2005 preview. It will come as no surprise to most of you reading this that I love The Amazing Race. Colin’s broken ox. Charla’s hunk of meat. Millie’s utter exhaustion. Rob’s evil strategeries. Good times, good times.

That said, this season troubles me. First off, it’s TAR: Family Edition. And as cold-hearted as I may seem at times, not even I can get behind laughing at the misery of eight-year-olds. Second, there’s the apparent fact that the entire thing is taking place in North America. Hm. There’s nothing wrong with North America, but part of the joy of the show is seeing these people deal with taxi cab drivers in China and the like. Racing through Baltimore? Not as exciting.

And then there are the teams. They all seem like unfortunate combinations of boring and annoying. I’m holding out hope, but as you will read below, things seem bleak.



GAGHAN FAMILY (CT): This family of four claims to have been cast because they are an “all-American family” and are all very photogenic and good to look at. Barf. The son, Billy (12), has the look of a kid who loves his Gameboy. And the daughter, Carissa (9), wants to do the show so that she’ll be popular at school. Oh, and the parents make their nine-year-old daughter run 5K races.

SCHROEDER FAMILY (LA): Oh boy, these people are going to be a problem. Another family of four. The father, Mark, is “admittedly arrogant and confident” – which is always code for “I’m an asshole and I don’t care that you know it.” He is also apparently not aware that it is very creepy to describe your own daughter as a “future Bond girl.” The entire family expects to win America over with their “inside jokes and goofiness” and by “aggressively rolling over other teams.”

AIELLO FAMILY (MA): Yawn. This team is made up of a father and his three sons-in-law. The obvious problem with them is that they think they are funny… but they are not. The big jokes in their pre-race interview? That the sons are going to have to be “on their best behavior” around their father-in-law [uproarious laughter among the four] and that “it’s too bad the girls aren’t along… they’d be better looking!” [more uproarious laughter].

ROGERS FAMIY (LA): Where to start? Daughter Brittney (22) is “sassy” and is a former Miss Louisiana (and is named "Brittney"). Her contribution to the team is that she “brings fun to the table.” Mother Renee (42) works as a beauty pageant trainer. Great. And the entire family claims to have been chosen because they are “so different.” How are they different? They’re “real competitive.”

BLACK FAMILY (VA): The Black family is, well… the one black family on the race. And they all compete competitively in Tae Kwon Do. On the whole, despite having the youngest racer (eight-year-old Austin), they do seem somewhat endearing. The only obvious problems are that they start their interview with a group “Hi-ya!” and that they are all wearing matching tie-dye shirts.

WEAVER FAMILY (FL): This is a tough one. The family is a mother and her three children (including 14-year-old “Rolly”). The father/husband died two years ago in an accident at the Daytona International Speedway. And they are doing the race “to alleviate the heartbreak.” This is sad, so I can’t really make fun of them; but I will say that constant references to the sad situation could grow immensely tiresome.

LINZ FAMILY (OH): This team is made up of three brothers and a sister – two of whom go to the suspicious-sounding “Miami University of Ohio.” They start their interview with a group cheer and a claim to be “so-o-o-o-o-o-o-o crazy.” I will give them points, though, for admitting that what they fear most on the race is “losing to an eight-year-old.” Hee.

BRANSEN FAMILY (IL): Papa Bransen and his three daughters once appeared together in a Pert commercial. I can’t really get a read on these people. Boring? Maybe. I do, however, like the fact that the father only agreed to apply because he was sure that they wouldn’t be selected.

PAOLO FAMILY (NY): Oh, dear. They are SO going to be the first team eliminated. As with all bad teams, they claim that their greatest strength is that the other teams are going to underestimate them. Basically, their suckiness is their secret weapon. The youngest son, Brian (16) claims to be “painfully embarrassed” by the rest of his family, including 24-year-old DJ, who works in title report production (?).

GODLEWSKI FAMILY (IL): Four sisters. For whatever reason, I kind of like them. I think this liking was cemented when the older sister spontaneously shushed her younger sibling. It seemed real.

That’s it. Obviously, the Linz family is going to win. I believe I will be cheering for the Godlewskis and the Blacks, though.

How Short Is Too Short?

I think it may be time to find a new barbershop.

I mean, I do like the current place. It’s very close to campus. It’s cheap ($12). They recognize me and say hello. It’s an old, established place with a nice small-town feel.

But…

Although I managed to avoid the old guy today (who knows no other hairstyle than “The Marine”), the lady I did get paid not much heed to my pleas of “I’d rather it not be very short.”

“Just a trim?” she said.

“Yes, indeed,” I said, thinking that I had properly conveyed the lack-of-shortness that I keenly desired.

Instead, although I avoided “The Marine,” I believe I ended up with something approximating “The National Guard.” It’s way too short. As always.

And that’s not the only problem. There’s also the whole weird haircutter selection process.

You walk in and all of the available employees shuffle over to their chairs with their eyes cast downward. You are then to select just one haircutter in a process that feels… uncomfortable. It’s like something between picking just one puppy to spare from imminent destruction at the Humane Society and choosing a nighttime companion in some sleazy European red-light district. It always makes me all awkward and stammery.

So I think I need a new place. Although this may be one of those things where I think about finding a new place but end up never deciding on a new place and instead just deal with ultra-short hair once every five-ish weeks. We’ll see.

Thank You, Oprah

If you have the time and a high-speed connection, do check out "The Blame Game" at Salon (you will have to watch a brief commercial to get access to the site).

It's a video montage of Katrina coverage from the past few days. Watching it has left me all sad, trembly, and angry. All at once.

Hopefully None Will Be As Annoying As That Fairplay Person

Another season of reality TV is nearly upon us. Now begins the difficult process of trying to get to know all the myriad survivors, apprenti, racers, big losers, and the like. To help you along, I have scoured the internets and prepared the first in a series of contestant guides. I will tell you who you will hate, who you will despise, who you will be annoyed with, and who, just possibly, you might like a little tiny bit.

We will start with the granddaddy of them all, Survivor.




BRIAN, Ivy League Student (22): All you need to know about him is that his favorite color is deep teal, his favorite alcoholic drink is N/A, and he thinks he can be the sole survivor because “I have studied the game since I was 17 and have written papers on the subject.” Most likely, he will be voted off the first week.

BRIANNA, Retail Sales, Make-Up Artist (21): I will let the obvious, awkward subtext of the following paragraph speak for itself. “After high school, Brianna moved to San Diego, California to experience something new. She became interested in cosmetics and, six months later, returned to Edmonds, Washington where she currently works as a make-up artist at an upscale department store.” Hee.

DANNI, Sports Radio Talk Show Host (30): Let’s see. International model. Miss Teen USA contestant. Miss USA contestant. Voted one of the “100 Most Beautiful Women” [from where, I do not know]. Star Search spokesmodel. Her thing? Being hot.

CINDY, Zookeeper (31): I know, I know. The zookeeping bit sounds promising. BUT she has a twin sister named “Mindy” and her favorite movies are Phenomenon, Nell, AI, Powder, Michael, Sea Biscuit, City of Angels, Moonstruck, and Far and Away. She likes treacle and John Travolta. Ew.

BRANDON, Farmer/Rancher (22): His favorite magazines are Four-Wheeler and Playboy, and his proudest accomplishment is once climbing to the top of a radio tower. I think that about sums him up.

JAMIE, Water Ski Instructor (24): Oh, good lord. This dude’s favorite scent is hay, his favorite drink is vodka and diet coke, and he describes himself as having an “uncanny ability to read and connect with people.” AND he has a twin brother named RAMIE. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have identified our token tool.

BROOKE, Law Student (26): Hm. Political science major. Americorps volunteer. Has lived abroad in Spain and England. Grew up on a farm. Has a collie. Likes computer card games, running, Scrubs, Ewan McGregor, Mark Twain, and merlot. I got nothing. She seems kind of cool. I have failed you.

BLAKE, Commercial Real Estate Broker/Model (24): Oh, poor Blake. I get the feeling already that he’s going to try really hard but end up being just a little bit too dim. His favorite movies are The Rock and Old School, and he likes people who “get off their butt [sic] and make their dreams happen.”

LYDIA, Fishmonger (42): Seems cool. Fishmonger is a neat word. She lived in Japan, Puerto Rico, and Germany before settling in Washington. Her favorite movie is the Japanese version of Shall We Dance. She is a fan of Stockard Channing. Oh… wait. Oh, dear. Her favorite survivor ever is Rupert. She is dead to me now.

JUDD, Hotel Doorman (34): We’ll start with the fact that his full name is Judd Sergeant IV. We will proceed with the fact that he has a 34-year-old twin brother named “Timmy.” And we will conclude by noting that his favorite TV show is Growing Up Gotti, his favorite movie is Less Than Zero, and his favorite snack is Funyuns [barf].

MORGAN, Magician’s Assistant/Waitress (21): Speaking of barf. Morgan is proudest of “getting paid gigs as a dancer despite having no technical training.” And her greatest accomplishment is “allowing [her parents] to live vicariously through her as she performs, competes, and travels to new and exciting places.” Oh, and she weighs approximately 3.6 pounds.

JIM, Retired Fire Captain (63): Jim’s thing is being old. He likes light jazz and cold rolled oatmeal and “enjoys golf and building and repairing things.” I suspect that he won’t much get along with all “the kids” and their crazy ways. Not that anyone should get along with Morgan or Jamie.

RAFE, Ivy League Student (22): Yes, another “Ivy League Student.” Amazingly enough, this one may be even more annoying. His mother is an artist and his father is an inventor. Need more information? OK. He is proud of his ability to play Ode to Joy on the piano with his toes and believes that “you haven’t really experienced a place unless you’ve slept on the ground and woken up to the sunrise there.” I guess I have never experienced a place.

MARGARET, Family Nurse Practitioner (43): “She spends every week at the Lake County Free Medical Clinic of NE Ohio. Together with other community professionals, she provides health care to families who otherwise could not afford it.” You might think that it would be hard for me to hate her after reading that. You would be wrong. She likes the music of UB40 and her favorite movie is Pearl Harbor. Enough said.

AMY, Police Sergeant (39): Amy really likes softball. And the Red Sox. And The Prince of Tides. I’m not quite sure how to put all of that together.

GARY, Ex-NFL Quarterback/Real Estate Developer (47): One would think that the ex-NFL quarterback thing would mean much hilarity and annoyance, but he doesn’t seem that bad. He volunteers as a high school football and basketball coach. He has four kids, one dog, one cat, and three horses. He likes Louis L’Amour quite a lot. It may not be my thing, but he seems sort of cool.

So, based on my initial impressions, the only possible people to like are Brooke and Gary. As for a winner, I have no idea, but I guess I’ll pick Rafe. Young men typically do terribly at Survivor, but I’ll go out on a limb.

Special Offer For You, My Friend

Aw. I guess I'm a big-time blogger now. I've got blog spam and everything.

And in my e-mail inbox today was a message indicating that I had funds awaiting me in a Nigerian bank.

See the comments on the post below if you are confused.

Am I the Gargamel of the Group?

I had my first trip in the Community Car last night. And I’ve never felt so surrounded by squishy liberalism in my life.

Being both car-less and roommate-with-car-less this year, I’ve enrolled in the Community Car program. Basically you pay something like $8/hour for the use of community vehicle – and this $8 includes gas, insurance, maintenance, and everything. Really, it’s quite ideal for me. Especially because the rate goes down to $1/hour after midnight.

The whole thing screams nice liberalness, though. The cars are hybrids. People join for the “feeling of community.” Much depends on everyone nicely doing their part. They even have a hat and gloves stowed in the trunk just in case you need to scrape the car in the winter and have forgotten your own.

As sometimes occurs in Madison, the whole thing makes me feel like the conservative grump of the group – even though I am generally neither conservative nor a grump. I guess it's just the contrary naysayer deep within me. Existential eye rolls are kind of my thing.

Buttes, Butts, and Grandees

Well that was certainly a surreal Labor Day weekend.

First, there was the aforementioned two-way drive from Madison to Crested Butte (a.k.a. Crusted Butt), Colorado. Believe me when I say that Runaway Truck Ramps are the last thing you want to see after 18 straight hours of mind-numbing driving through Nebraska. MKM and I were completely delirious by the end of the drive, evidenced by the fact that we found our reading of the Harlequin Romance The Spanish Grandee to be laugh-out-loud hilarious.

Then there was the wedding itself, which featured not one, but two piñatas. And a Liberal vs. Conservative beach volleyball match immediately after the ceremony. And not a single chicken dance or electric slide. I loved it.

And we can’t forget Hurricane Katrina, surreal and horrible all by itself. MKM and I, however, got our news about it primarily via Nebraska a.m. radio, which of course only added to the weirdness. We heard, for instance, theories about Halliburton’s weather changing machine (first used by the Soviets to disrupt the 1980 L.A. Olympics) and the big conspiracy to keep ham radio operators out of New Orleans.

The last bit of surrealness, though, was my final arrival back in Madison. The story is long, but the key points are a gas-less car, a charge-less cell phone, a nonexistent key drop box, and one delirious OleNelson stuck in a Hertz lot at 3:00 a.m. surrounded by blocks and blocks of closed car dealerships. Surreal indeed.

I'm Back...

... And I have spent 49 out of the past 84 hours in a rental vehicle. I believe that I arrived home just in time to stave off whatever the car rental equivalent of bedsores are.

Disaster nearly struck (as is typical with me) near the very end, but that story will have to wait until both slumber and shower have occurred.

Natural Disasters Suck

Having this whole blog thing makes me feel that I should comment on various happenings in the world. It is my duty, for instance, to report fully on the Video Music Awards or Kanye West’s fabulous new album.

However, as kindergarten teachers can recite in unison, “It’s all fun and games until someone pokes out an eye.” And with Hurricane Katrina, the proverbial eye has been poked out.

I’m at a loss for words.

Here, though, is what the mayor of New Orleans had to say. “We’re probably looking at 12 to 16 weeks before people can come in. And the other issue that’s concerning me is we have dead bodies in the water. At some point in time, the dead bodies are going to start to create a serious disease issue.”

Whoa.

I still haven’t adjusted to the notion that we have “flood refugees” who are going to have to live in the ASTRODOME for an extended period of time. And now I have to accept the inhabitability of a major US city AND floating dead bodies AND massive outbreaks of diseases I like only to hear about on House.

Now is not the time to worry about whether the federal government is to be blamed for cutting flood prevention budgets or to figure out how many people are out there claiming that the hurricane is God’s punishment for abortion practices.

Let’s just pray for the people down there.

Again, people are LIVING in the Astrodome. Or not living. Or still waiting for rescue on top of apartment buildings.

Whoa.

She's No Mr. Roper

So I don’t think my new landlady likes me. My chummy “Hey there” was met with a rather surly “Humph” this afternoon. And I’m now very afraid to ask her to fix either my consta-draining bathtub or my backwards sink. I don’t know if my delicate demeanor can take another “Humph.”

It all started on the day I moved in. First I rose a stink about not being able to check in until mid-afternoon. I got my way with that one.

Then I showed up in rather groddy moving attire. She saw me, looked me up and down, and said, “Have I met you before?” The tone was not positive.

The last straw, though, was my feeble attempt at ice-breaking humor. While checking me in, she explained the policy on my parking in her parking spot. The conversation was as follows.

“You are never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever to park in my spot.”

“Ever?”

“No. Never.”

“How about on Mondays?”

“I said never.”

That last never was delivered without a trace of humor and was followed by a deftly maneuvered spin in the other direction. My theory is that the spin led straightforwardly to this afternoon’s “Humph.”

Or perhaps I’m just paranoid.