randomness is the sugar sprinkles on the ice cream sundae of life

if i let her, my wife will read me the entire list of foods i am allowed to eat on whatever diet she is interested in today.

you cannot split the signals from three gibson g-3 bass pickups to three different phase switches for maximum tonal diversity. it took me a total of four hours bent over a hot soldering iron and a tangle of multicolored wires that would make the most stone-cold bomb technician break out in night sweats to figure it out.

when you are 7 and 8, repetition of one phrase in a high-pitched cartoonish voice is the height of hilarity. it might also land you in the er.

when you are 7 and 8, "daddy, can i have a kuitar lesson?" means: "daddy, can i plug one of your kuitars into the kuitar amp and wail on it like i am the bastard love child of sonic youth and tad."

(in a related story, if you turn to your wife and say, "quick, gimme the name of a guitarist known for atonal and obnoxious noisy solos." she will sputter, stutter, say "jack white." and end lamely by saying, "i don't know guitarists." (i was going to go with pete townsend and kurt cobain, until it occured to me that the obvious subtext to that would be that my kids had smashed my guitar. they treat it very lovingly, as long as you don't mind retuning it when they're done.))

in a not related at all story, if your wife says, "i'm just tired." what she really means is "i'm pissed at you about something and if you are too fucking stupid to figure it out, i sure as hell am not going to waste my time explaining it to you." disappear or look busy for about a half-hour, and whatever it was you had done will have dissipated and been forgotten.

and nothing beats a walk on the beach when it is about 70 with a light breeze blowing in your hair. well, maybe sex. ok, definitely sex.

darth sardonic