(this is) durkin.org

Kids can be so cruel. We all know that. They can also be so funny. We know that, too, and have even seen specials about it, thanks to Bill Cosby. Kinda like the old Reese’s commercials, where you got your peanut butter on my chocolate and I got my chocolate on your peanut butter, we witnessed a humorous combination of cruelty and hilarity this weekend.

The Scene: Davenport’s Pizza (famous for their square slices) (link, it’s the fourth one down). A nice family kinda place, with kids running around and music playing but not too much music playing and adults all sitting around not worrying about their kids and everyone pretty much having a good time. And the food is good as well.

Our hero, Walker, is “playing” Centepede. I say “playing” because he’s 3 and not really into actually spending the quarters, he just likes to hit the buttons and watch the screen. Glad his mother told me that before I started feeding quarters. Anyway, we’re sitting down, watching, he’s playing, everyone having fun. Enter the evil little girls, about 9 years of age or so. The take over the space-fighter game next to Walker and start “playing” it. This goes on for a while, until the girls tell Walker he’s too little to play, that he sucks and he’s not good at the game.

Well, he’s obviously upset. He comes over to the table, crying about it, but gets a great pep-talk from mom. Practice makes perfect. Having fun is more imporant than being the best. Who cares what some girls say? He is placated and returns to the game, the incident seemingly forgotten.

Sometime later, the little girls are running laps inside the gaming area. Walker is on his stool at the Centepede game, having a great time. The girls run by him, and he, without turning his head or giving any physical sign of recognizing their presence, says loudly enough to be heard, forcefully enough to have meant it, but not with enough meanace to offend any listening adults: “Jerks.”

It may well have been the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I realize it’s not translating well here, but believe me, it was too funny. Jerks.

OK, I didn’t watch the President last night, and I’ve only read about half the speech at this point, but I think I’m ok to comment and I don’t even need all five words): Talk Is Cheap. Actions, especially those that do not involve bombing other countries, but that focus more on lifting America’s people and moving them forward, are what we need to see.

bruised orange is my personal site. I’m John.

My wife and I live in Birmingham, Alabama and we like it. We have a house in an older part of the city and live there with our four cats and three dogs. I work as vice president of marketing and business development for a credit union, and she is the executive director of a youth volunteer service organization.

I work, I play soccer in the local adult league, I go to school for an MBA, and I work on the house with my wife.

January is trying my patience.

Last year at this time, lots of not so good things happened, and this year is more than keeping pace with 2002. At this point, I could go on about how terrible my life is right now, and how upset I am and yada. I almost did, as a matter of fact.

Instead, I’ll tell you something funny that MR and I discovered yesterday afternoon. Pipes can freeze in broad daylight in Alabama. Yup. It’s true, our house is proof!

Broad. Daylight. Full-on frozen pipes. Are they busted? Who knows. It won’t be warm enough for them to thaw themselves for days. Days. I never in a million years would have guessed this was possible. Not ever. But here it is.

I wasn’t laughing quite as much this morning, as I walked next door for a shower, but I’m trying to get it back now. If the pipes burst, then we’ll replace them. Such is life.

It’f funny, too, now that I think about it, that I called this site “bruised orange” when I restarted it last year… if I had an about page, I would refer to it now (I know its listed over there, but the link doesnt go anywhere). Its a Prine song, Bruised Orange (Chain of Sorrow). Its some of the best advice I’ve ever taken:

You can gaze out the window,
Get mad and get madder.
Throw your hand in the air
Say `What does it matter?’
But it don’t do no good
To get angry, so help me I know.
For a heart trained in anger
Grows weak and grows bitter
You become your own prisoner
As you watch yourself sit there,
Wrapped up in the trap
Of your very own chain of sorrow.

Basically, its just as easy to laugh as it is to cry, and in the end, laughing will help you more.

Anyway, the universe is laughing at me, so I may as well join in, right?

This time of year is about many things for me. One of them is beginings. Here’s to them.

Not exactly like the one I had when I was growing up, but it’s pretty cool nonetheless, an online Advent Calendar.

In my inbox this morning:

WHY MEN ARE NOT SECRETARIES
Husband’s note on the fridge to his wife: “Someone from the Guyna Colleges
called. They said the Pabst beer is
normal. I didn’t know you liked beer.”

Sigh. The worst part is, sometimes I’m that guy.

I wish I had written this.

The Today show bothers me. Most of the time, its really just glorified gossip and sensationalism, but I’ve never been able to put into words what about it really ticks me off. Kevin Guilfoile, Morning News contributor, did that for me. And quite nicely, I might add.

I know its an older editorial, I was browsing around, looking for another installment in The Morning News’ excellent “Recollections Based on the Album…” series when I found Mr. Guilfiole’s ed. Unfortunalty, there are only three parts to the series:

PJ Harvey’s To Bring You My Love by Claire Miccio
The Pixies Doolittle by Mena G. Trott
Tears for Fears’ Songs From the Big Chair by Joshua Allen

(Doolittle is my favorite.)
Click here to read more.. »

Testing again here. I think its all good.

OK… testing one two.

I couldn’t get everything to work the way it was supposed to, and I couldn’t get the upgrade to work either, so I exported my entries and dumped the whole thing, and then reinstalled.

Oye. Here’s hoping this worked.