Halloween, 1

I used to come up with great ideas for Halloween costumes. As a kid, I was Count Bozo (a vampire clown), a Whatchamacallit, and the Pumpkin Warrior. This year, the best I could think of was Larry McPantsHead, the guy with pants on his head.

What did you go as?

Hurricanes

There has been so many hurricanes this year—a record 22 of them named—that the Naming Gods have run out of pre-determined names. They are finally able to show their creativity, although they have created a bit of a commotion with their last two choices, Hurricane Asskicka and Hurricane Bitchslap.

If we were only so lucky. The dorks at the weather department are marking his momentous occasion by turning to the Greek alphabet, giving us Hurricanes Alpha and Beta.

You know what I call that? Hurricane Crap. This may be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be free of the hurricane naming rules, and they’re squandering it. They can name these hurricanes whatever they want, and we’d have no clue that they were coming up with these names on a cocktail napkin in a bar.

Almost any name is better than Alpha and Beta:

Hurricane Zeus
Hurricane God Hates You
Hurricane Shmiricane
Hurricane...of Love

If we are unfortunate enough to reach the letter D, they can at least calm people’s fears by calling it Hurricane Dude. “Hurricane Dude is still over the Florida Keys. It has been squatting there for a record two weeks. Strangely, the hurricane is only active between 2 p.m. and 2 a.m., and just gives off a faintly unpleasant odor the rest of the day.”

The VA Gubna Race

I haven’t been following the Virginia governor’s race closely. It’s between the president of the Mark Warner Fan Club and some guy named Kilgore. Kilgore sounds like a evil robot the Republican party devised during the 2000 Presidential race. Now he’s broken away from his masters and campaigning against Democratic candidates around the country. “VOTE FOR ME, HUMANS. I WILL PROTECT YOUR BROODLINGS AND DESTROY TAXES WITH MY METAL JAW.”

Oh, and there’s a third-party candidate. It was thoughtless of me to forget. Third-party candidates are very special people and we should give them as much respect as any other candidate. Because, one day, one of us may become a third-party candidate.

My main news source about the race has been the radio ads that occasionally play when my alarm clock turns on. The radio ad this morning was one of the best political ads I’ve ever heard. Do you know how it started? “Jerry Kilgore has a sugar daddy.” And it got better from there.

It wasn’t a throwaway line designed to grab people’s attention. It was the theme. The deep-throated announcer repeated “sugar daddy” half a dozen times in a 30-second ad. “Even when the corporation was under investigation, he kept taking their money. Taking it and taking it.” I forget the details, but by the end, the message was clear: Jerry Kilgore is a slut.

All I hope is that the TV version of the ad shows digitally alters Kilgore’s face so he’s wearing gobs of lipstick and blue eye-liner. And big hooker boots with “Tiffany” embroidered on them.

Well, It *Was* Cloudy Today

It's 6:24 p.m. I'm watching Seinfeld with my roommate. Our screen door opens.

ME: "Are you expecting anyone?"
ROOMMATE: "Nope."

We wait for a knock. Instead, the mail slot opens and the mail plops on the floor. We hear the footsteps of the mailman scurrying away and we burst out laughing.

Easily the highlight of my day. If I were a mailman, I'd deliver the mail after 8:00 p.m. at least once a month, just to make people laugh. I'd alphabetize people's mail too on occasion, just to give them the frustrating sense of noticing something is odd not being able to figure out what it is.

I'm Back...

I had a wonderful time. I'll probably blog about the trip later, but in short, Ireland is beautiful and the people are very friendly, there are a lot of things to do in Paris, and Belgiums love waffles. But not syrup on waffles, so I'm sure not visiting those freakazoids again.

I took 853 pictures. If I have your address, I will show up unannounced one night and force you to see every single one. I am even going to transfer them to slides and dig up an old slide projector for full effect. There is no escape. Pretending you are not home will do no good. I'm bringing a heat scanner.

The photo above is of the Sacre-Coeur, a Catholic cathedral and second-highest point in France. I still have no idea how to pronounce it.