1. I've now listened to twenty years worth of the Jack Benny radio show. I'll repeat that 20 F-in years! I started about two years or so ago, and have listened off and on at work; and recently every morning on the way to work, and on the way home. I'll admit it's some sort of disease called complete-ism or something. Once I start a listening to something I have to finish it to the end, even if it takes 850 some odd hours. I did this with Dark Shadows, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, even that horrible show The Lost World. Even though I hated it I still would spend a couple hours a night watching it. As if somehow the fabric of my being would be screwed up if I missed one show.
After 20 years of Bennys (I've five more to go) you get to see patterns. First off, Jack was a raging queen and everyone knew it. I don't know if he was a homosexual, but there are more gay jokes on that show. From the late 30s with a couple of reoccurring characters of these two moving men, one named Bernice; To the 50s when Dennis Day asks a sleepy Jack if he wants him to crawl in bed with him and whisper his song in his ear. The number of innuendos is staggering. My only regret is that I didn't start marking these down. I'd have a good book.
2. At my job I'm the IT person... but at home my computer is a slow cluttered mess.
3. I've now had my current cat 10 months. But we still haven't really bonded. My old cat, Fiona, was fat, slow and grumpy. She would yell at me all the time as if I was living with spirit of some washer woman.
Watching her die was one of the saddest things I've ever experienced in my life. My new cat Dinah, is a spry wisp who is afraid of everyone, shows only brief bouts of affection towards me, and tortures me with constant early morning toe biting. She's adorable, but I'm having a very hard time feeling the same sort of bonding I had with my other cat. I'm sure there is a Rod McKuen cat poem about how you can't replace lost love with a stray kitten. If not I might write one this evening.
4. Mr Whipple is dead. "Don't Squeeze the Charmin" is a phrase I'll remember if I live to be 91.
There was a time when everyone was part of some global community. We all knew the same tv shows, the same commercials, the same music. It seems now that we are all on our separate little entertainment islands. There is so much media available to me that I can pretend it's 1968 whenever I want.
5. I need to join the gym again. I haven't been in two years; I feel fat, old and unattractive. I bought a used Bowflex, which is great, but it's so hard to be motivated. I realized that what I miss most about the gym was not the feeling of energy or that I was keeping trim, but that I could watch CNN for 30 minutes while on the treadmill.
6. My building construction nightmares still haunt me. Last week they tore out my bedroom ceiling. Everything in my apartment is still lightly dusted with plaster. There are eerie looking white hand prints that the workmen left all over my walls. Last night realized that there were bits of metal shavings in my bed. The workmen had put in a new light and never covered up my bed when they did it. Little tiny spirals of metal keep getting lodged in my legs hairs. I had to vacuum my sheets at 3 in the morning.7. Thanks to every one's comments on my stem cell post. To update, my brother is doing really well. The doctors let him go home two weeks early and his blood count is doing amazingly well. He has 100 days now in isolation. This is working out so well it's a little frightening. I feel like I shoudn't talk about it otherwise I'll jinx it. However, it is complete proof in the power of negative thinking. My brother and his wife were convinced he wasn't coming out of the hospital alive, I was convinced that I would screw up the procedure somehow. This week, I wanted to give my sister-in-law some cash to pay for part of the cost of the Nupergin. I wanted to contribute a little... She said, you just gave him back his life, we are not taking any money. It was a WOW moment.
8. I got an e-mail from Peggy Lee's daughter last week. She said she would be interested in talking to me. She must have listened to my podcast I did on her mother. I wrote her back, but I haven't heard anything. I'm a little nervous about it. I'm still feeling a little emotionally wobbly and the last thing I need is Peggy Lee's daughter yelling at me. I'm just sure it's about the bootlegged songs I pulled from a tape from a 1989 concert. Be careful what you say, you never know who is reading. 8. To Hole or Not to Hole. I realized some time ago that the name of my blog is so common that it's difficult for people to find me. There are at least ten other combinations of a hole in the head blogs out there, including a movie called A Hole in the Head concerning Trepanation, the antiquated medical procedure where a hole would be put into some one's head to let out the pressures. I chose this name without much thought; I went to my book shelf and picked out the novel A Hole in the Head that was made into a movie starring Sinatra. Since I had a Sinatra connection I took it as some sort of sign.
That said, I'm 4th on the Google hit list when you put in A Hole in the Head, but is it time to change?
9. I guess this post would go under the heading hilarity ensuing random thoughts. I'll get my feet back on the ground soon... I promise.
Peace and Waterfalls...