It's Monday, so that means I'm in a boring blogging mood. The only way you could possibly get any more boring than me right now, is if you clicked this link. Man, that guy is boring, and he still gets enough comments to choke a horse.
And isn't that an odd saying? Choking a horse? How did a saying like that come into being anyway?
COWBOY #1: Hey, there, Emmit. You have a mighty whole bunch of food in front of yer horse there. What'cha plannin' on doin' there anyway?
COWBOY #2: I'm a aimin' to choke him. I'm a gonna' keep feedin' him and feedin' him until the food gets caught in his throat and he starts a chokin'.
COWBOY #1: I gotta say, that's a purty strange thing to be doin'. Any 'ticular reason?
COWBOY #2. Nah, no reason. Just curious, I guess.
For that matter. Where did the term "beating a dead horse" originate? What a horrible mental image that conjures.
COWBOY #1: Well, now what'r ya doin', Emmit?
COWBOY #2: The horse finally went and choked. Ya know, you'd be surprised just how much food it takes to choke a horse. Well, he went and keeled over, and suddenly I realized that I NEED this here horse. So, I'm tryin' to beat him back to life.
COWBOY #1: Emmit, you oughtn't be beatin' that dead horse. That just ain't right.
So, anyway, online-2003-christina-aguilera02.jpg">where was I? Ah, yes. The weekend. Actually, you know what? I'm going to skip over a lot of the weekend, so you're left thinking that I had high tea with the Queen of England on Saturday.
I went golfing on Sunday afternoon, which just also happened to be the most sweltering hot day of the summer thus far. It was hot. Damned hot. It was the type of beloved Minnesota heat where you could just stand perfectly still and actually feel your socks getting damp with sweat.
I'm not a patient golfer. Nothing irks me faster than being forced to golf behind slow groups, and on Sunday, my friend Jim and I were trapped behind the slowest golfers ever to play the game. My heart sank when I saw the first two golfers tee off, and the ball skittered 30 feet in front of them. It was going to be a long day. It was going to be a long, long, sock-sweating day.
To make matters worse, we had the most inconsiderate group golfing behind us. These folks didn't understand the concept of waiting until the people in front of them are out of range before hitting. After the third golf ball came bounding up behind me, narrowly missing my leg, I turned around, lifted my right hand, and extended my middle finger in the international golf sign language of "if you hit like that once more, just once more, you'll be the first human being in history to have a putter surgically removed from your ass."
They understood the sign language, and they didn't hit behind us for the rest of the round. Ah, the good old finger. Use it wisely. Use it only for good.
I caught the "Walking With Caveman" special last night. It was pretty okay, I guess, even though I think the Discovery channel may be milking the whole "Walking With. . ." theme just a tad too much. Eventually, I'll click on the tube and see "Walking With Insects" or "Walking With Fictitious Martian Carbon-Based Life Forms."
The whole Caveman special seemed determined to gross out the viewers by showing our genetic ancestors eating anything and everything as messy and disgusting as possible. They could have gotten away with telling us that hominids ate grubs and huge hairy spiders without showing us. The spider-eating segment was particularly gross. It wasn't enough to show spider-eating. No, then they had to drool thick green spider guts to show that early humans would, indeed, eat anything.
And Alec Baldwin? Why Alec Baldwin as the host? Here they are showing us the evolution of the human species, and Alec Baldwin is the best we can do to show the epitome of homo sapien development? Heck, the guy can't even spell "Alex" correctly. Why not Tom Selleck? Why not John Cusack? Actually, Salma Hayek would have been the perfect spokesperson for the human species at this developmental stage in our evolution. She's just too frickin' hot! She makes my neander stand thal. Ugh. One. . . one horrible joke! Ah! Ah! Ah! <-- insert Sesame Street's "The Count" inflection here.
And so begins another week. I won't talk about how much I dislike Mondays. To to do so would be to beat a dead horse, and that ain't right.
Posted by Ryan at June 16, 2003 10:24 AM
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