Well damn

I suppose I should log into Facebook more often. I hadn't done so for a while until getting that invitation from my high school chum. Turns out that the lovely Army of Mom posted a vid on Facebook, one I've used before. But she didn't post it at Army of Mom, but on Facebook only, which is where I saw it when checking to see that my lovely friend from high school's Mom accepted (God knows why) my invitation to be a Facebook friend.

Are you following all this? Good, because it confuses even me. But no matter, here's an old favorite:

More Grammar Nazi stuff

So yes, I am on Facebook. I'm a Facebook imbecile, of course, haven't yet learned the myriad little nooks and crannies there, which is why Cullen's invitation for a drink (or something like that) has gone unanswered.

In any case, I categorically refuse to "friend" people. I will befriend them, but I will NOT use "friend" as a verb (except in one special grammatical case of which I will not speak more for now).

But I received an invitation to be friends with a lovely high school gal, which I readily accepted. And from her profile, I discovered that her lovely Mom, now in her 70s, is also on Facebook. She is a wonderful lady whom I last saw when she visited my Mom (with another daughter and a couple of grandkids in tow) shortly before Mom passed away. I have sent her an invitation to be friends also. Facebook can be cool.

That's interesting

I never heard this before:

While some applauded [Newton Minow's] "vast wasteland" assault on commercial television as a welcome criticism of excessive violence and frivolity, others criticized it as an elitist, snobbish attack on programming that many viewers enjoyed and as government interference with private enterprise. The S. S. Minnow of the 1964–1967 television show "Gilligan's Island" was sarcastically named for him to express displeasure with his assessment of the quality of television.

Live and learn.

Kudos to our buddy JeffS

He is now a proud, dues-paying member of the handloading community.

Use your new-found power wisely, Grasshopper.

Blast from the past

This requires a wee bit of setup.

As you know, we had some doors installed and are having them painted.

Well, the front door to the house (which has some lovely glasswerk* in it) was not one of the doors to be painted. Until today.

*It's German. I think. Maybe.

The Sainted Bride noticed that the new paint on the walls in the foyer, as well as on the door frames, made the front door look old and tawdry. Well, maybe not tawdry so much as worn. Well, yeah, it's been more than 15 years since we moved here and the door hasn't been painted in that time. So yeah, looking a little weathered. So she asked him to go ahead and paint it. I'm all in favor too.

Reminded me of a story from high school, though. When I was in HS, I drove my parents' 1969 Pontiac wagon. Avocado green, that being a (strangely) common color choice in 1969. Much like our refrigerator. Drove it to college too, for the first quarter before I acquired my '74 Vega. But I digress...

Pardon me while I take a Strange Interlude: Suburban, middle-class station wagon though it was, that baby could flat-ass FLY. 350 engine, major pickup, and a turning radius that could make a Cooper blush (I could parallel park that baby in any space with a foot in from and back). Majorly great car. When the Vega was down for a while, I borrowed the Pontiac again from the Sainted Parents. I'd get out on the highway, tooling along at what I thought was a reasonable speed, then look down at the speedometer and notice that I was doing > 90mph. What a speed daemon that baby was. But I digress...

Anyhoo, it reminded me of an episode from high school, back in the late, not-lamented '70s. One evening, at a school function, I parked said Pontiac in the school parking lot, next to the vehicle driven by a lovely classmate. Said classmate's vehicle was a Ford pickup truck, normal in all ways except for the railroad tie that substitued for a front bumber. Unfortunately, said lovely classmate turned the wheel just a wee-smidge too hard while backing out of said parking space. Dented the driver's side door on my Pontiac.

No problem, she and her family paid for the banging-out and repainting of the door. All cool.

Except that the repainted door made the rest of the (seven-plus-year-old-and-sunbleached-after-seven-years) car look old and weathered.

[sigh]

That's how the new doors and walls in our humble abode make the old front door look, as of today. Which is why the SB asked the painter to go ahead and repaint the front door.

No comment

Other than "Oh, Good GAWD".

Quote of the day

From our buddy Nightfly:

Don't Feed the Bureaucrats! If they lose their fear of humans we'll never be rid of them.