i’m not one to post about cool happenings in birmingham as i would rather leave that up to my more culturally affluent blog friends, but if you have a soft spot for the kids and 5 bucks to spend please do so at speakeasy:

also, i have a sneaking suspicion that now that george is a birmingham firefighter we just might see him in the 2007 Handsome Heroes calendar.

i’ll be over in the corner drooling into my martini.

• times brock has thrown up in the past 48 hours: 12
• loud groans i have uttered because i have to clean up cat puke: 12
• pills shoved down brock’s throat: 3
• pills that actually stayed down brock’s throat: 1
• shirts purchased using awesome target card received at christmas: 5
• couches thrown off balcony in old house and hauled to salvation army: 1
• number of nfl games watched on saturday: 1 1/2
• bottles of champagne consumed during nfl games: 1 magnum
• yelling at the top of my voice “NO! NO! NO! go to sleep”: 4
• minutes it took me to give in and let mollycate sleep in the bed: 20
• mollycate: 1; me: 0
• rounds of gunfire heard last night: 2
• length (in minutes) that i stayed up contemplating calling the police: 45

could also be a documentary of my high school. yeah, i’m ghetto.

homeownership has it’s benefits; however, as of right now i am having a bit of buyer’s remorse. not because my house isn’t totally awesome and could kick your house’s ass, but because i went from a 2200 square foot condo to a 1300 foot home. i am missing all that open air and closet space. and on top of all of this “coziness” mollycate hates the new house. she hasn’t slept through one night. we finally decided to put her crate (all 4′x4′) of it in our bedroom and she is doing well. the only catch is that i trip over it every single morning trying to get my underwear out of the armoire. i’m looking for a good tranquilizer gun if anyone has an extra just lying around. it’s for me, not the dog.

firing squad
new years eve was spent on my front porch with several of my friends playing “name that gun shot”. beginning at 7 p.m. and ending somewhere around 2 a.m. you could hear the echos of semi-automatics and what someone claimed to be a .41 desert eagle. at several points during the evening i announced that i was going to call the police only to be rebutted and told that they would do nothing. of course they wouldn’t…kincaid won’t give them a raise. they’ll sit in their squad cars drinking their coffee and laughing at the city that hates them. as d-rock so eloquently stated: “i don’t care if my garbage man is unhappy. i do care if my policeman is unhappy.”
quite right. an unhappy policeman is a policeman who doesn’t give two shiny shits if your house is broken into, or if you were mugged, or if a bullet went whizzing through your living room striking your very fanciful topiaries from restoration hardware.

you kids and your crazy, mixed-up plumbing
i can’t think of a better way to spend the new year than to clean up a flooded basement. the plumbing in our house came to a crawl over the past couple of days causing any draining to back up and spill into the washing machine and subsequently the basement floor. i called my contractor connections and had them come out today to roto-rooter the line. now all is well and dry. we can now flush the toilet and take a shower without having to plug the bathtub first. i think i’m going to send $100 to sally struthers in africa for those kids who don’t have plumbing.