Readers, I apologize for the abrupt announcement, but Garfield Ridge is going to go quiet for a while.
Not sure when I'll be back. Not sure I want to come back.
Readers, it's time for another edition of the Garfield Ridge Post Office.
Post your questions for me in the comments, or email them to me at the garfieldridge-at-gmail.com account (replace the "-at-" with "@").
I should have answers up next week!
Ha ha ha. . . here's a blog dedicated to people who have broken windows, lamps, televisions, and other fragile items by accidently losing control of their new Nintendo Wii controller.
For the record, my Xbox 360 controller never slips out of my hand.
But that's just because I have a kung-fu grip, and I masturbate a lot.
And it is good.
True story: I took the three-piece pre-lit tree out of the box on Saturday. While trying to put the tree in its stand, I noticed that the stand looked like it was missing the screw-top that twists to lock the tree in place. Frustrated, I ended up buying a new stand at Wal-Mart yesterday.
And what did I inevitably discover? I was trying to put the *second*, middle piece of the tree into the stand, when the third, bottom piece of the tree had the screw-top as part of the pole.
I've owned this tree for five years now.
I am not a smart man, folks.
National Review Online's John Derbyshire is in quite the confessional mood today, playing one of the oldest parlor games around, "I Never."
In the spirit of things-- namely, padding my post count-- I figure I might as well offer my own "I Never" list.
-- advanced beyond Tenderfoot in Boy Scouts.
-- learned how to roller skate, skateboard, ski, or surf.
-- left the continent of North America.
-- learned a foreign language well enough to speak it conversationally.
-- purchased a textbook for any of my undergraduate classes after my sophomore year.
-- threw a punch in anger (shoving, kicking, and head-butting doesn't count).
-- drank Absinthe.
-- had sex in Chicago, or Los Angeles (the two places I lived the longest other than D.C.).
-- memorized all the words to a song other than The Star-Spangled Banner.
-- missed a mortgage payment (so far-- fingers crossed!).
-- gone snorkeling, scuba-diving, or deep sea fishing.
-- learned how to play Chinese Checkers, Hearts, or Spades.
-- beaten Halo 2.
-- finished the first season of Lost on DVD.
-- had a one-night stand.
-- joined the Mile High Club.
-- been to a NASCAR race.
-- gotten a speeding ticket (knocking on wood!!!).
-- was confirmed in the Catholic Church.
-- cheated on a test.
-- cheated on a girl.
-- been shot at.
-- broke a bone other than my nose.
-- won at a game of pool.
-- have seen the Gulf of Mexico.
-- had measles, mumps, or a cold sore.
-- lie, except to myself. Oh, and telemarketers, but they don't count, do they?
There seem to be plenty of articles about this lately, including the latest linked off of Drudge:
British scientists have developed a revolutionary pill that men could take as a one-off contraceptive just before a date.
The tablet would prevent a man from being able to impregnate a woman, but within a few hours his fertility would return to normal.
This would make it much more acceptable to men than other 'male pills' under development, which alter hormone levels and have to be taken over the long term.
Believe me, the last thing I need to worry about is altering my hormone levels. Any more hormonal changes in me, and I'm liable to start watching Lifetime Television. The story of my thirties so far is how I went from a rock to a wuss-- I don't need any more help in my downward slide.
Apparently, the aforementioned pill works by preventing ejaculation. Personally, I'd prefer a pill that *promotes* ejaculation, but I'm an odd duck that way.
But if this pill keeps me from getting random chicks pregnant-- or, ummm, my girlfriend, yeah-- then it's quite the gift.
Hell, if I had my way, I'd brick and mortar her cervix while I wrapped my +2 Staff of Sexual Healing in Kevlar.
Because there are only two things in life that scare me, and one of them is a surprise visit from the stork.
Alas, a short one as well-- I'm flying out of town on Wednesday on my super-secret mystery trip with my brother, a trip that should lead to the Coolest Posting In Garfield Ridge History. I'm guessing that posting will be up next Monday, so look for it.
While my destination this week is super-secret, my flight plans are not: I unfortunately am flying through the pit of all evil, Dallas/Fort Worth. What's worse, I'm flying American Airlines. Suffice it to say, American Airlines has a nifty habit of ruining the best things in life, and after many horrible experiences I vowed never to set foot in DFW again.
But, my brother bought the plane tickets, so it's not like I can look the gift horse in the mouth.
Still, I'll be shocked-- shocked!-- if my flight out on Wednesday doesn't arrive on Friday.
In honor of Bond week-- unfortunately, I have to wait to see Casino Royale next Monday, thanks for that, Mike!-- Entertainment Weekly has a list of the worst Bond girls. A very objectionable list.
Why? Because I *liked* Bibi Dahl, Holly Goodhead (great name!), and Pam Bouvier.
But yeah, they're completely correct with their number one. Ack, whatever her physical merits, she was by far the absolute worst.
As for Casino Royale, I'm pumped. I've long been a Daniel Craig fan, I've loved the trailers, and as far as Bond girls go, Eva Green is waaay easy on the eyes.