reesesWeb

(Elvis-inspired Russian-Wood Art)

Came back today from a weekend spent with Kat's aunt and uncle. Was pleasant, ate too much, didn't work out, and therefore didn't gain ground on excising the Minnesota 25.

I've been stuck with a bit of "reader's block" lately. I haven't had any real inclination to read anything new. So, I did my deciennial re-reading of Pynchon and Joyce, swilling down V., Gravity, and Artist in the past several weeks. The rest, I can't quite bring myself to re-read. I pick up Ulysses, and literally make it through the second paragraph before putting it down. That's farther than I get with Lot 49 or Vineland, though, because they're pulpier and junkier, and if I wanted pulpy and junky, I'd read Pulp and Junk. Both of which are the worst examples of either author's work.

Coming into the garage today after driving back down, I noticed a sweet-ass Aston Martin in the garage, and a moment later, a less sweet-ass Lamborghini Diablo. (As an aside, I almost ran into Sir Mix-A-Lot's Diablo in Seattle, years ago. Actually, it almost ran into me, which is unfortunate, because if it had, I might be driving it today.)

As a result, I give to you, lesson 271828 in my doctorate-level course in "How To Start A Fight With Your Wife".

You: Wow, look at that. A new Aston Martin and an older Diablo. They must have opened the top floor.

Wife: Yeah.

You: We need to upgrade our car. We need a Ferrari. That's the only thing that will do.

Wife: That's just silly. Why do we need a Ferrari?

This is the clincher.

You: If we weren't paying for law school, we could afford to live on the top floor and drive a Ferrari.

And you're well on your way.

Bookmark/Search this post with:

delicious | digg | reddit | technorati