*Pic* My House for Christmas
Monday, December 20, 2004
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Pics from My New Camera
*Pic*
Some pictures of my den/office/computer room taken with my new camera.
Is There a Doctor in the House?
After watching television off and on all day, I have to comment on the drug company commercials. Most of them I saw today, were during two of the most popular primetime television programs which I'm sure have sky high advertising rates.
These drug companies are spending millions and millions of dollars to convince me to tell my doctor what drug to prescribe? That's insanity. How the hell would I know what drug I need to take to be strong enough for chemotherapy? And I certainly know nothing about toe fungus, erectile dysfunction or herpes.
Do they think that if my doctor writes a prescription for one medicine that I'm going to say, "Oh, no. I want the other drug. You know, the one they advertised during "Desperate Housewives." That looked good to me. I have no medical training but I do watch a lot of television so I now know all about what medications I should be taking."
Ridiculous.
These drug companies are spending millions and millions of dollars to convince me to tell my doctor what drug to prescribe? That's insanity. How the hell would I know what drug I need to take to be strong enough for chemotherapy? And I certainly know nothing about toe fungus, erectile dysfunction or herpes.
Do they think that if my doctor writes a prescription for one medicine that I'm going to say, "Oh, no. I want the other drug. You know, the one they advertised during "Desperate Housewives." That looked good to me. I have no medical training but I do watch a lot of television so I now know all about what medications I should be taking."
Ridiculous.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
R.I.P. My Faithful Sidekick
I'm one of those weirdos who gets emotionally attached to inanimate objects. This might not happen if I didn't keep things (cars, computers, cameras) up to the last possible moment of their usefulness.
My poor little 35mm Pentax Espio that I bought before my first trip to Las Vegas in 1993 has finally crapped out. It happened last night at my son's college graduation which I find to be somehow appropriate. It's the beginning of a new era in our family on so many levels and I will now have to move on photographically as well. I'm being pushed kicking and screaming into the world of digital photography. Wish me well.
So, rest in peace my little Pentax. You have survived countless nights on Bourbon Street, innumerable family holiday parties and have documented the amazing evolution of the children in this strange and wonderful family from babies to teens and from teens to young adults. You have been with me for every memorable and wonderful event in my life, both big and small, for the last ten years and if a picture is truly worth a thousand words, you have written volumes.
My poor little 35mm Pentax Espio that I bought before my first trip to Las Vegas in 1993 has finally crapped out. It happened last night at my son's college graduation which I find to be somehow appropriate. It's the beginning of a new era in our family on so many levels and I will now have to move on photographically as well. I'm being pushed kicking and screaming into the world of digital photography. Wish me well.
So, rest in peace my little Pentax. You have survived countless nights on Bourbon Street, innumerable family holiday parties and have documented the amazing evolution of the children in this strange and wonderful family from babies to teens and from teens to young adults. You have been with me for every memorable and wonderful event in my life, both big and small, for the last ten years and if a picture is truly worth a thousand words, you have written volumes.
Yuck...
My son graduated from college tonight and I'm very proud of him and we all went out to his and his wife's favorite bar to celebrate and that isn't even the reason for this post although I am beyond extremely proud of him and love him and Jamie very much. The reason for this post is that I made the mistake of checking my e-mail before going to bed (it's 2:05 a.m.) and found this Texas Monthly e-mail forwarding their recipe of the week:
Cinnamon Turkey Breast with Molasses Glaze
I sure wish I hadn't seen that right before going to bed after three big ass margaritas and a shot of Tuaca. Now I don't feel so good.
Cinnamon Turkey Breast with Molasses Glaze
I sure wish I hadn't seen that right before going to bed after three big ass margaritas and a shot of Tuaca. Now I don't feel so good.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Cold Feet
I got on the elevator this morning with two men. One of them I have seen often enough to be on a friendly-good-morning-how-you-doin’ basis. The other guy I had never seen before so I put him in the small-smile-with-a-slight-nod category. The new guy hit the button for the third floor which houses the Beaumont branch of the FBI.
After we boarded the elevator, I looked down at the FBI guy’s feet and he was wearing sandals. The temperature this morning was around 35 degrees which I consider too cold for sandals. Of course, I consider 35 degrees too cold for anything. We'll pause a moment for Lorna (in Canada), Astrid (in the Netherlands) and Deek (in London) to say things like, "you think that's cold?" Yes, I think that's cold.
Except for the stupid flip-flops, FBI guy was dressed all warm and cozy in flannel and denim. When he got off the elevator, I asked the other guy if he noticed that FBI guy was wearing sandals. He said, "Yeah, maybe he's undercover." As what, I thought? A flip-flop wearing loony?
It was a short ride but I gave his feet a thorough eye-balling. I didn't even try to hide the fact that I was staring at his feet hoping he would explain why his tootsie's were so blatantly exposed. I checked out his toes (no ingrowns), looked for bunions (none) and examined for bullet holes (nada).
Maybe he has to keep his super secret FBI shoes at the office because they have tiny guns in them and they wouldn't pass through security. Maybe he put on his sandals to go out and get the paper and then forgot to put on his normal 35-degree weather shoes with a pair of nice warm argyle socks. Maybe he's just a loony.
After we boarded the elevator, I looked down at the FBI guy’s feet and he was wearing sandals. The temperature this morning was around 35 degrees which I consider too cold for sandals. Of course, I consider 35 degrees too cold for anything. We'll pause a moment for Lorna (in Canada), Astrid (in the Netherlands) and Deek (in London) to say things like, "you think that's cold?" Yes, I think that's cold.
Except for the stupid flip-flops, FBI guy was dressed all warm and cozy in flannel and denim. When he got off the elevator, I asked the other guy if he noticed that FBI guy was wearing sandals. He said, "Yeah, maybe he's undercover." As what, I thought? A flip-flop wearing loony?
It was a short ride but I gave his feet a thorough eye-balling. I didn't even try to hide the fact that I was staring at his feet hoping he would explain why his tootsie's were so blatantly exposed. I checked out his toes (no ingrowns), looked for bunions (none) and examined for bullet holes (nada).
Maybe he has to keep his super secret FBI shoes at the office because they have tiny guns in them and they wouldn't pass through security. Maybe he put on his sandals to go out and get the paper and then forgot to put on his normal 35-degree weather shoes with a pair of nice warm argyle socks. Maybe he's just a loony.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Last night...
Last night I went to Antone’s for a private Christmas Party and saw Edgar Winter. Well, that’s not exactly true. Last night I laid on the couch under my down comforter watching autopsies on the Discovery Science Channel instead of going to Antone’s for a private Christmas Party and seeing Edgar Winter.
I suck.
I suck.
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