Tonight, in lieu of watching Spider-Man 2 in theaters (NOW!), which the more perceptive among you may have guessed has my undivided anticipation, I shall find this more cinematic and epic version of the film, made by a lesser known but much more tender hand in the director’s chair.

But first, let us all give out a celebratory hoot, as … Finally… the BUDDHA! will go back! to Master Chay’s Tae Kwon Do class! (Linus, you may be the only one to recognize the source of that imitative and overly punctuated announcement.) I have been away from class since testing for my high brown belt over a month ago, due to constant pressure from work, among other less demanding pursuits. My return has been heralded in the stars and now the time is nigh.

I do not usually allow my blog to become endorsement for products in specific. I like more to move people toward betterment in the way that the Buddha might. That’s why I feel comfortable, nay *compelled*, to recommend Gyneflex.

Not only is the product itself engineered for maximum effect while not offending a lady’s sensibilities, but the language is discrete and unhumiliating, while remaining frank about its subject matter*.

I’ve never been so impressed with a product, and I truly, truly believe that this new invention will change your life for the better. It’s already changed mine.

*- Ok, I modified that one a bit.

Is there a conspiracy among drummers and percussionists that they must back out of shows at the last minute, as long as I am within a few degrees of separation from the show’s director? Once again, in an heroic showing of good will and desire for even a small taste of show business, I have entered into the fracas known as musical theatre, with only my mediocre percussive rudiments to defend me. It is strange that I have had more “gigs” for my self-taught and admittedly sub-par musical ability in this area, than for my trained skills in acting, stage combat and improv. Or even voice, in which I hold some natural talent.

Mind you, I have not pursued these roles, but neither have I pursued playing in the orchestra, and here I am with my second performance behind the skins rapidly approaching, despite my caveats about my gross lack of real ability.

I have four rehearsals, DRESS rehearsals I should add, to learn to read drumkit sheet music (my years playing euphonium in high school band not withstanding) and to know my part within the orchestra for the play 110 in the shade. As Bjorn reminded me, I am likely to rely much on wood block and cowbell.

I don’t normally buy things on eBay, but this is quite a deal.

This Welsh martial art ad is possibly the coolest thing I’ve seen in months. Something about this design style always gets my attention.

Once again, from Czelticgirl, ’cause I can’t just leave her be. I don’t know how accurate it is. I may be tough, but I’m not necessarily violent. Anyone who wants to disagree can collect their free punch to the teeth in the line forming on my left.

Take the quiz: “Which Random Irish Gaelic Phrase Are You? “

Pog mo thoin
Pog mo thoin – ‘Kiss my ass.’You’re one tough bastard, and if anyone doesn’t like it, they can kiss your ass. You enjoy fighting and causing grievous bodily harm. Hey! What are you lookin’ at, punk?

They’re right. Dick Cheney is one helluva poker player.

Anybody who writes like that and has commenters posting things like this:

I was playing poker last week with ashcroft. He had two pair and I had four kings. I thought I had him beat. When I showed him my cards, he siezed them and classified them as enemy combatants, Thus my cards lost their rights and were not subject to the rules of poker convention.

Well, those people get added to my links.

Apart from this, my day’s been crap.

SB: What’s this Gmail everyone’s so crazy over?
CG: Google’s e-mail service. Searchable. 1000MB of storage.
SB: And this is free?
CG: Yup.
SB: I haven’t any need of it so far as I can tell.
CG: Yeah, but it’s the cool kids’ club. Well, not really. I’m in, so it must not be.
SB: I suppose if I had no way of transporting huge documents, I might want an email that can handle it. But then most docs of that size I wouldn’t want to be going through a service that is likely to be watched by all the wrong people.
CG: Yeah. You should transmit the porn some other way.
SB: I could care less if some cyberspy saw me moving pr0n over email. But MP3s (which are the only things I can think of that most people want that much email space for)…danger, Will Robinson.
CG: True.
SB: *shrug* Like I said, there are lots of tech things that I have no use for. Palm Pilots for one.
CG: I’m with you there. I have a low-tech one. It’s called a notebook.
SB: I guess I’ll take one, if you’re giving them out. I may come up with a use for it, I suppose. May as well get a username I like.
CG: As soon as I get an invite, you’re in.
SB: Sorry if i’m not very enthusiastic. I do appreciate it though. You could have made $5-10 instead.
CG: Oh, no worries. I don’t really know what I’ll use it for, either. But I have it. It’s not the having, really, so much as the getting.
SB: I guess it’s not technically clutter, since it just sits there as a magnetic field, instead of a physical piece of detritus. Like an unused Bowflex or something.
CG: But with less laundry-holding features.
SB: Another bloggable IM courtesy of Czelticgril.
CG: Well, at least someone’s blog is getting love these days. Sure ain’t mine.
SB: We need to get your blog laid.

Part I: Out of curiosity, I went to Clear Channel’s website to look at their policies on radio decency. Clicking on the first link I saw on the subject, the clearly marked “Radio: Broadcast Decency” PDF link on the home page, I immediately downloaded their PDF on rules and regulations for their radio stations.

Part II: Mac OS X sometimes applies strange icons to downloads that it doesn’t immediately recognize. I had just recently installed Return to Castle Wolfenstein for some faux – WWII action at work.

Results of this (perhaps-preordained) chain of events? A PDF about Clear Channel’s decency requirements with a wonderfully fascist icon alighted on my desktop. Oh RAPTURE.

Imagine you have bitten your cheek once or twice during the day and now have a painless but everpresent little piece of skin occasionally brushing against your teeth and tongue. All day.

Then imagine, that like me, you cannot stand its being there and for the better part of your day you contort your face trying to wedge the piece between your canines and snip it cleanly, leaving your mouth free from distraction.

Now imagine if you believed that this method was the best way to solve every problem you’ve ever had.

I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s like to be a dog.