It's the mini-marsmallows, honey, I swear

So last night, I'm on the Soul Bar message board looking for info about Sky City's pre-opening tonight. Amy comes over from where she's been watching What Not to Wear (which explains why I was on the internets--I'm not that gay...I don't care what anyone tells you).

"Whatcha lookin' at?", she asks.

"Soul Bar message board. Looks like they're open tomorrow," I cleverly retort.

"Cool." she says, walking into the kitchen.

I follow her in, always hungry at that time of night. I'm standing behind her as she reaches up into the cupboard...

...and pulls out coco(a).

Kind of a Freudian pick, I think.

LotB #27

It’s no secret that the Augusta Chronicle has a conservative bent, and that’s of course readily apparent on the editorial pages. You can find evidence elsewhere in the paper, but you usually have to dig. That wasn’t the case, though, on the Dec. 30 front page, amidst the “Faces of 2007” collage. Amongst the 38 photos represented, the republican and democratic presidential candidates were all there, but the placement was questionable. I’m sure it was just a coincidence that the republicans were at the top left, right under the banner, while the democrats were relegated to the very bottom right, below the fold. On a positive note, they actually did represent Ron Paul.

Along those lines, there’s a lot of buzz about how the media is not only ignoring Paul, but that they are actively suppressing information about him. Charges have been levied both against Fox News and ABC, for example, for ignoring polls in which he has done well, and he’s being left out of debates left and right. All of this despite his evident popularity and the fundraising records he’ setting. A quick check of the Chronicle archives shows that Paul has been mentioned in stories in the paper exactly twice in the last month: once in the above-mentioned “Faces of 2007” and once noting that he actually won a straw poll in Aiken county. And where was that presented in the paper? Way down at the bottom of the “Across the Area” section. By comparison, Rudy Giuliani (who Paul beat handily in the Iowa caucus), showed up in five stories. Time will tell, of course, whether all this will hurt, or possibly actually help Paul. He was strong in Iowa, and it seems like the more he’s ignored by the press, the more it emboldens the Paulistas.

Bizzarely, the Chronicle webforums were taken down for a good two days after what seemed to be a robot porn attack. You’d think I’d talk here about how that break may have actually given Barry Paschal some time to devote to his actual job, but no. Because there may be something more insidious afoot. Now, I’m not normally much of a conspiracy theorist, but pornbots attacking webforums, coupled with a Houston Chronicle story about the future of sex and relationships with robots makes you think about the inevitable. Soon, robots will make us their bitches. Stage one: distract the humans with robot sex. Next: rule the world! The only question is whether it will be a benevolent or oppressive robocracy to which we will succumb.

So the R. Kelly show scheduled for at the James Brown Arena last week actually went off as planned, without one of the late cancellations that has been plaguing the venue of late. That’s good news, since it shows that the coliseum authority actually has the ability to pull off headliner shows. I haven’t heard, though, whether or not any underage girls on sitting in the front row needed rain coats.

Note to everyone: Jason Barron is not to be referred to by the name “Jason Barron”, without Jason Barron’s permission. Jason Barron must only be referred to as ”Suzuki Man.” Alternatively, you may refer to Jason Barron as “The Jason.” Never, ever call Jason Barron “Jason Barron”, unless you want to incur the wrath of Jason Barron.

Jason Barron.

Creepy

You know how when you walk by restrooms, especially in public places, and if the door happens to open as you're walking by, you can't help but glance that way? It comes off as creepy, cause, well, you're peering into a pretty private place. But it's human nature. And I'm not even talking about natural curiosity. It's just that, as animals, we're in tune with movement around us. So while walking down a hall, eyes ahead, we're drawn naturally to, say, a door opening next to us. It's not that we want to be creeps, but rather that if it's a tiger coming out of that door, we want to maintain a bit of self-preservation.

If you do it right, you instinctively turn your head and then, realizing people generally don't like to be gazed upon while exiting restrooms (I *know* what you were doing in there!), you look the hell away and continue your journey.

So, all that being said, here's what you don't do: you don't freaking speak to that person. I guess you could make the argument that if you're intimately familiar with them you could get away with it. Or maybe, if it's your kid coming out. But if the level of acquaintance is wife's coworker or less, you just keep on movin'.

Consider the stage set.

Monday, I was at the Spirit office, coming out of the restroom after cleaning up a bit after my downtown run. I drop Nola off at the office on those days, because it's deadline day for Amy, which means working late for her. And generally, dropping the girl off at mom's work is better than leaving your seven-year-old to fend for herself at home. Plus, she gets to run around like a crazy person (OK...she does that at home, but it's *so* much better to do it at mom's work). So, I think I'm pretty much alone in the back of the office, behind the big double-doors that separate that area from the action part of the building. And I also know that Nola A) like to play back there and B) love public restrooms more than do homeless people.

So when I walk down the hall from the men's room and the door from the women's room opens, I assume it's Nola. And since it's Nola, I know I can offer he a big, goofy "hello" without the fear of repercussions.

Door opens.

Turns head and says (inappropriately loudly) "heyyyyy....Stacey...."

And you know, no matter how innocent something is, if it comes off as creepy no amount of explanation ("...so you could see how I thought it was Nola...") really gets you off the hook.

Cause everyone likes mexican food...

I'm standing around after the Avett Brothers show a couple of weeks ago, waiting for the band to come out (cause I'm a geek). And Amy and I are talking with our friend Holly about the birthday she's planning for our friend Alice.

It's a surprise party, and the idea was to make it raunchy (it's a girls'-only party). So I feel a little weird even listening to the conversation, but whatever. Like that ever stopped me.

Holly: so if you guys have any ideas for what food to serve...
Jim: (half under my breath) I've got some ideas...
Holly: what?
Jim: I've got some ideas, but i'm not sayin'
Holly: c'mon! what?
Amy: Don't do it...
Jim: Well...how about tuna?
Holly: (snicker)
Amy: (hits me)
Jim: or tacos. how about fish tacos?
Holly: (surprisingly, laughter)
Amy: (hits me some more)

Apparently, I'm pretty classy.

She's a little shy...

The last time the Avetts were in town ( a year ago), Nola got a chance to meet Scott after they sound checked. She was so shy then that she hid behind Amy the whole time we chatted. Something's clearly happened between now and then.

Weirdness in One Act (or Maybe She Should Carry that Bible Between her Knees)

A man dressed for running in shorts and a t-shirt sits in front of a burrito shop at a wrought-iron table. He appears to be waiting for someone. A young couple sit, talking and drinking margaritas at another table, on the other side of the restaurant entrance. A large shabby-looking black woman carrying a bible approaches, enters stage right and approaches the runner:

Bible Toter: Hey baby! How you doin'?
Waiting Runner: OK.
(BT glancing down at WR's legs, which are propped on a chair)
BT: Oooh...them's some nice legs!
WR: Um...thanks.
BT: You shave your legs?
WR: Yeah...for cycling.
(BT still looking at WR's legs)
BT: Ooooh...I like 'em. That your real color?
(WR looks bewildered)
WR: Um...yes?
BT: Buy me some food, baby. (telling, not asking)
WR: I'm getting ready to go run. I don't have my wallet with me.
BT: I think I got knocked up.
(BT pauses, looks around, as if searching)
BT: I can't find the man who knocked me up.
WR: It wasn't me.
BT: Shit...I know it wasn't you, baby.
(BT walks to the next table)
BT: Buy me some food. (telling, not asking)
Young Woman: I don't have any money.
BT: You got a credit card. (telling, not asking)
Young Man: No.
BT: I got knocked up.
YM: Maybe you should read your bible.
BT: Fuck you, motherfucker.
(BT walks off down the street cursing unintelligibly, exits stage left)

BID: no parking tickets and a sash?

A couple of provisions in the downtown Augusta Business Improvement District (BID) management plan, which will now be going before a commission vote, are for "Downtown Ambassadors Foot and Bicycle Patrol." And since these are included in the proposed budget, you'd assume that these would be paid positions. What a sweet gig!

Think about it...your job would be to walk (or ride a bike) around downtown, greeting folks, waving and generally looking, well, ambassadorial. A treaty needs to be discussed between the Ren Pub and Stillwater? You'd be the one to call. You know you'd get free drinks and, assuming you were single, lots of action. I mean, who doesn't want to get with an ambassador? Think how that would look on your resume.

I don't know why, but I'm imagining a handlebar moustache, top hat and a sash. A long black top coat, maybe striped jodhpurs.

And diplomatic immunity. Where do I sign up?