01/28/2000
Snowball

I'm making a cheesecake!

Well, not really. I mixed up a no-bake cheesecake and it is, as we speak, doing its thing in the refrigerator. I can't tell the difference between these and the real thing.

Does that bespeak a lack of refined taste on my part? Yup.

So it was a snowy day in Memphis. Four, five inches or so, anyway. That's a by-god blizzard in these parts. Jen and James got the day off; Sonya left work at three; I was done at four. After a quick trip to Easy-Way we all went out on Main Street and played Snow Football. That's where you throw the football around in the snow. I tried to push James out of the way on a punt return and now my left forearm hurts like hell. Then we all bashed the fuck out of each other with snowballs. Sonya got me right in the face as soon as we walked outside so I had the nerdy-kid-with-snow-behind-the-glasses look.

Note: If you hit a car with a snowball, chances are the alarm will go off. It's true!

I wasn't even going to think about driving to work this morning. So I put on some old longjohns under my jeans. I wear a 34 or 36 in pants, but these longjohns are 42-44. They're tight around the legs, like they should be, but hugely baggy around the waist. I just double 'em over and make an extra layer.

I have no idea where these massive longjohns came from. Somewhere there is a cold, fat man.

It was a nice walk to work, though. Not a soul out walking but me, snow pounding down all around me. Of course I sang.

"Well the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful..."

Several verses of that, and then I made up a few. Ladies and gentlemen, Harry Williams Jr.

While I like the snow, Roxy is another story. We left the house this morning for her walk and she looked at the white stuff on the ground with a good deal of wariness. She blunders in the snow, constantly falling off curbs and burying herself in drifts. She pissed once, looked around hopelessly, trying to find some grass, and then led me back in the building, shaking all the way.

Today, she showed her displeasure with the weather by taking a shit in the living room.




One of my coworkers is a professional wrestling fan, and he occasionally tells me about the latest developments in that testosterone-soaked field of entertainment. This week, he explained to me the concept of cheap heat.

Say you're a bad guy, and you're a wrestling in Buffalo. You want the crowd to really, really hate you. What do you do? One guy, a few weeks ago, wore a Frank Wychek jersey in Buffalo. The fans, needless to say, hated him.

Other examples of cheap heat are hitting a woman or (the funniest of all) squashing a midget.

Last night some wrestling was on and Sonya and I watched for a few seconds. This one guy was tied up in the corner while two guys beat on him and a third guy told him how he'd screwed his girlfriend! The jailhouse homoeroticism was incredible.




If you have a free moment, you should check out Out There, Tom's highly entertaining journal. He has Big Gay Al on his front page, so I like him already. He's super. And he wrote me a highly flattering e-mail, so I'll give him free advertising all day long. And, since readers Henry and Trish have sent me things (or, in the case of Trish, are going to send me things - and, since Trish won a lime iMac, she's an utter lucky bitch) I am returning the favor. Tomorrow, I'm mailing each of them an exceptionally well-put-together mix tape, a copy of the inaugural issue of JENNYSEAT, and a sheet of wonderland 2 sticker.

You take care of me, I take care of you.





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