Robert Downey, Jr. is HOT; HOT like a habanero chili pepper soaked in Tabasco sauce, wearing a wool sweater in the flaming recesses of Hell.
I was tempted to limit my post to that one sentence, but I thought it would be a waste. I mean, with so many words in the English language, surely I could expound on my feelings for this man (no offense Jan, but you know how it is).
Last Saturday Jan and I made plans to go to dinner, then see Iron Man afterwards. Needless to say I was 
pretty pumped about the whole evening. We wound up going to Marie Callendars where I gorged myself on their sinfully delicious Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo. My God that dish is good. If you want to know what it feels like to have your taste buds reach a level of euphoria known only to the few strong enough to survive such pleasure, then I suggest you order this entree next time you make it into one of these fine establishments (Best. Sentence. Ever). The sauce was full of flavor and so rich and creamy, the chicken was delicious and tender, the pasta cooked to perfection. Yeah, it was definitely some good shit. I could practically feel my arteries closing up as I shoveled bite after bite into my greasy face. But fuck it. My mom always said I would die with a full stomach, and dammit she’s right. It’s no secret I love a good meal.
This is where it gets good...
I don’t know if anyone has noticed, but I have not posted anything in almost FOUR DAYS! WOW! I mean, I usually try to post every other day, ya know? Some people feel the need to apologize for an offense of this nature, but I am not going to. Life suddenly decided to get all busy and interesting, providing me with things to tackle. I, being the trooper I am, took everything in stride and have conquered that which dared to separate me from my beloved Internet.
In other words: I’m BACK! Hooray!
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Every now and then I mention my mom. Sometimes I speak of her in comments on other blogs or sometimes in the posts written here. You all know we were close, so close I considered her my best friend. I know when someone is dead, you should probably start referring to them in the past tense, but I forget a lot of the time. It’s weird to refer to her like that, you know? She was my mom. I swear, sometimes I feel like she’s on vacation somewhere and will be back as soon as she can. Whenever something insanely funny happens, I often think: Damn, mom would think this is hilarious. I should call her… And of course right after that is: “Fuck, I’m broke. I wish mom were still here, she’d loan us some dough…
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If there is one song that does it for me, it’s “Come Go With Me” by Teddy Pendergrass. This is one of my FAVORITE songs ever. I fell in love with it the first time I heard it and now every time it comes on I feel things, good things.
A few nights ago I decided to look up the lyrics. After reading the words, the song has taken on a slightly different meaning. I think maybe, just maybe, Teddy was a little desperate and under the cover of night wanted to grab himself a moped.
Lets take a closer look:
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I was eating some of those heart-shaped candies you get for Valentine’s Day, they’re harder than Adamantium but I like them. Anyway, I didn’t notice how interesting some of the messages on the hearts were until I was almost done with the bag.
At first, I wrote them off as stupid. But then I got to thinking, what if someone is trying to tell me something? What if some cosmic force was trying to communicate and the only way it could was through sweets? And how many of these confectionery “messages” did I miss by absentmindedly shoving them in my mouth? I got scared. What if, in some parallel universe, someone or thing was depending on the likes of me to somehow save the world?
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