For those of you who remember, I named one of my building's elevators in a previous post (See the December Archives). Apparently a friend and reader was inspired to name the other. Forevermore the elevators here shall be known as "Clarence" and "Terrance" - and if I'm spelling Terrance wrong, someone please correct me.
Now that Dayton has decided not to run for Senate in '06, who will the Democrats choose? If I were 30, I'd volunteer. Whoever they pick, they'll have an uphill battle against Mark Kennedy. Having been strictly avoided by Kennedy at a party last year, I don't think I can support him, even if he is a fellow Johnnie. Seriously though, if I were able to run, what kind of support could I garner? In the DFL? Assume for a minute I were able to win the nomination... could I win the state? Anyone have thoughts on this topic? Its kind of fun to think about, and after all, I am thinking about getting involved in politics someday.
Hypothetically, if you discovered that your ex-girlfriend, who dumped you because she had been cheating on you, ended up with the type of guy who calls himself "Playboy C. Sanders" and loses the under-card match during an evening of "Xtreme Kage Kombat", what would you do? Would you smile? Would you gloat? Would you run to your blog to point out to everyone that she has chosen to affiliate with an under-educated thug who gets paid by illiterates to take a beating? I know I shouldn't take pleasure in the misfortune of others, but something about the name "Playboy C. Sanders" screams "misogynist chicken-cook," and its just too hard to resist. I mean, the man thinks he's had a good night of work when he leaves with only one black eye. Ultimately though, I do have to wish them all the best of luck; maybe someday soon he'll be getting beat-up by the champ!
And finally, in other news, I recently wrote and deleted a post describing the adventure I had the evening after my sister's wedding. I just couldn't manage to make it sound as funny as it actually was, and it wouldn't be right to give this story any less than it's due. Suffice it to say what was originally going to be a quiet evening ended up involving moving my sister, making supper at 9:00 p.m., dirty diapers, children with the flu, on-command flatulence, a baby strapped into a car-seat dangling inches above the ground, diarrhea in the living room, diarrhea in the dining room, diarrhea in the bathroom, and a pair of false teeth falling out of an old woman's mouth. If you'd like more details, feel free to ask.