Win Some, Lose Some

Going in to the Final Four weekend of the NCAA men's and women's tournaments, I can honestly say I suck at picking college hoops. One more time, just for clarity: I SUCK at picking college hoops. Actually, I'm still alive in a couple of men's brackets... but it was the women I was really interested in.

Ah, well. This was really my first year of sincere appreciation of college basketball, so I can accept my suckiness with aplomb. It helps that I'm drafting two fantasy baseball teams this weekend, of course.

Oh, and there's this:

I never claimed to be particularly knowledgable of celebrity doings, either. I'm not. But even *I* know Lindsay Lohan is an Attention Ho unlike any other. Skanky bitch did me proud. ;p

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Accessorizing

My version of coordinating accessories goes something like this: If I'm wearing earth tones, I'll wear gold jewelry and put my hair in either a brown clip or band. If I'm wearing black/gray/blue, I'll wear silver jewelry and a black hair clip/band. Simple. Low-maintenance, even. Well, I also coordinate the color of my eye liner, but that's not the point.

For years, I was the only one in the house that even owned hair accessories. That, of course, has changed with Suzanne's longer locks. I generally keep my hair accoutrements nicely snuggled together in a tray in the guest room, where I do my hair. Now that we "share" such implements, however...

W: Do you know why I can't find any of my brown bands and have to get a new one almost every time I need one?

S: No. I picked up a whole bunch of bands yesterday and put them... places. [waves hand about]

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Power Oops

Know what happens when one accidentally hits the metal sawhorse braces while using a circular saw on plywood?

(Hint: it makes a really horrid noise. The kind of noise that makes your teeth hurt.)

Yes, yes, that's right. It bends the teeth of the saw blade.

Obviously, we persevered. What kind of power tool dykes would we be if we didn't have extra blades on hand?

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Crowded House

Behold, someone's artistic rendering of how the bodies in the bed were arranged last night. The clear indication is that yours truly is a bed hog.

I don't know why my Dudley Dawg was given a beaver tail [giggle] or a deformed head.

For those of you who've met Suzanne, you'll surely recognize that images are not drawn to scale. I've never slept with a midget.

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For the Record

I'm well-acquainted with the mess associated with drywall work. Drywall dust gets everywhere.

I learned today there is something far, far worse, however: the black, dense, silty, kinda-like-printer-toner residue from the gaping chimney pipe where a former oil furnace once vented.

By itself, it's nasty. In a laundry room, where disconnecting the washer inevitably led to a little water on the floor, it's a nightmare. And that was before I tackled washing the walls and such.

I may very well have nightmares tonight. Nightmares of the world being overcome, one sooty black shoeprint at a time.

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Sometimes Bad is Bad

I get a lot of unsolicited feedback, both joking and judgmental, about my love affair with salt. Mmm, salt. Crystalline nectar of the Gods. In case this is news to you, I adore salt. I apply it liberally and frequently to a multitude of foods.


Yes, I'm aware that, like most addictions, this is not healthy. To date, however, my blood pressure is fine. When and if that should change, I suppose I'll have to consider cutting back. (I actually have an experience in salt deprivation, but that's another story for another time...)

Those that know me well have long since abandoned efforts to reform me. A delightful few have even gone so far as to bestow salt-oriented gifts: fancy french sea salt crystals, an engraved salt shaker, The Book of Salt, a salt-and-garlic grinder, a beautiful chunk of salt crystal from Salt Lake City... Yes, my friends, salt equals love in the WenWhit Lexicon. (Suzanne's devotion is evidenced in her tolerance of the three additional salt shakers I keep strategically located near my habitual berths throughout the house.)

The bottom line: salt is good.Except when it isn't.

I'm not referring to my health. I'm talking about this:

That's what my beloved little Baja looks like after a few days of commuting post-snow-salting. I KNOW the salt and sand is necessary, but trust me folks, it's a necessary evil. You Yanks know what I'm talking about. The salt so liberally spread on the roadways to defeat snow and ice makes one HELL of a mess.

In case you were wondering, my car is black.

Or it was.

Competitions Abound

March is a fun time for my not-so-inner sports dyke. This year, I'm competing in a couple of March Madness brackets (only one for $$, damn it), a Women's Tournament Challenge (how cool is that?), and even a celebrity league and bracket (c'mon, Lohan, be the little drama queen I KNOW you are).

It's also time to get serious about preparation for the fantasy baseball leagues I'm playing. First, though, I need to make my top 5 picks for the second annual American Idol pool at work. I sucked big time last year, but I'd still take Katharine McPhee and Chris Daughtry over Taylor Hicks.

Maybe it's a good thing that the Washington Post's Beer Madness bracket is only something I can see, rather than play.

Ah, spring is in the air.

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Snapshot

Nod to OCB for the link.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Surprisingly, I think this one is more "me" than most of the silly quizzes and surveys I've done.

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Hermit at Heart

On the phone with the Missus, stuck in traffic:

Wen: Traffic sucks. I'm going to be late... again.
Suz: [insert kind words of sympathy] So... you'd be pleased to know I turned down a dinner invitation tonight from our neighbor?
Wen: Oh HELL yes. Thank you.
Suz: [pause] But I gave him a "maybe" for tomorrow night.
Wen: [much swearing and bitching]
Suz: C'mon, it'll be fun. We'll go out, eat some good food...
Wen: I'm fine with going out to eat. Let's go. You and me.
Suz: [whine] He invited us to dinner.
Wen: [more cursing]
Suz: You sound like such a curmudgeon.
Wen: I FEEL like a curmudgeon, damnit.
Suz: Then do it for me.

And that's the bottom line. Of course I'll go. And I won't even bitch about it anymore much more. It's a small enough thing to do to bring her a little happiness.

I don't know why I feel so curmudgeonly about socialization. Our neighbor is very nice, easy enough to talk to, and a decent friend. It's not about him. Or Suz. It's certainly not an aversion to eating! It's me wanting to play hermit. I'd make a damned fine hermit, I would.

And yes, Zanne, I will almost certainly employ the same vehicle de extroversion that worked so effectively in Connecticut. Fortunately, I don't expect cameras to be present to document my state this time around. :)

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I Can't Resist

I know, it's nasty. I'm simply powerless to resist the affection, however.



Yeah, it's a mutual love thing.

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Because Knowledge is Good

If you view politics with an eye toward individual policies and stances rather than taking a "straight" Republican or Democratic line, The National Journal has published it's review of 2006 congressional voting.

"The ratings rank lawmakers on how they vote relative to each other on a conservative-to-liberal scale in both the Senate and the House. The scores are based on the members' votes in three areas: economic issues, social issues, and foreign policy."

It's an interesting read, even if you DO vote a straight party ticket.

Nearly Northern 'Necks

In case any of you proud Southerners were wondering, Maryland (where I work) is indeed below the Mason-Dixon line. Still, the area I frequent is fairly urban. SUVs, rather than trucks, dominate the roads.

This here feller in my office parking lot apparently got tired of the dirty, frozen piles of slush that are the plowed remains of the snow that f'd up our return flight from Connecticut on Sunday.

Or maybe he just wanted to have some fun. :)

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O. M. G.

My freaking blogroll notification of new posts is actually functioning. Hell must be freezing over...