PLAYBILL
This weekend only, the legendary Alberto Vega will swing through Chicago on his way to the next galaxy in his Intergalactic Tour. Children 14 and under must be accompanied by a parent, legal guardian or public defender. People with back problems or a history of heart murmurs are asked to keep the complaining to a minimum. Women between the ages of 18 and 35 are on their own. We will not be liable for lost or stolen hearts.

ADAM AND STEVE? GROSS!
I, for one, hope that Congress continues to work hard to ensure that gay people don't marry each other. And if it means amending the Constitution, then so be it! We need to protect ourselves and our children from The Gay Agenda™. I mean, can you imagine? Homosexuals having gay sex with each other while wearing wedding bands and filing joint returns? It's disgusting!

Your tax dollars at "work."

WEDNESDAY IS SPELT FUNNY
Despite a restless night that involved all manner of flail and tumble, I feel refreshed and omnipotent this morning. I could climb a mountain, swim through rapids, make love to a cup of coffee. I could finally update my blog. Bloggity blog blog. That's what it's all about. Hey, how about that television show we all love? Isn't it crazy? I nearly shat my pants when [someone did something unexpected]. I guess we'll have to wait till next season to see what happens. Fingers crossed!

Yeesh.

And OK so now that all of our television shows are over, we need to set about tackling our summer reading lists. I have several thick and important books stacked carefully on various tables and desks throughout my apartment. I shall pick from them at random. I shall use some of them to kill exotic insects. The rest I will read.

Oh, and how is it that that I'd not been notified of the existence of this book? It's on the list, will join a stack momentarily, and may well be used to smite a large beetle.

PERIODIC ELEMENTS
Yesterday, the sun beamed and twinkled and cut a clear, long arc across a Chicago sky unsullied by clouds and contrails.

(Due to a long Saturday night, I didn't wake up until 11 a.m. And even after nine hours of solid slumber, my body and limbs struggled to get with the program. But get with the program they did after a delicious plate of Andouille Sausage Benedict on the sidewalk patio at the Four Farthings.)

The three of us — Lauren, Sank and I — gathered some gear and walked over to Oz Park, where leotarded pedestrians pushed strollers on the pathways while runners and bikers cut their own swaths across the acres of thick cool grass. We spread out and took three points and threw the Frisbee and ran at top speed until the thirst came. We headed across the street, bought three different kinds of iced tea, then walked down Webster to search for a couple we were supposed to meet. Alas, we were confounded. Our friends were not where they were supposed to be. But then, as we walked back across the park toward home, there they were. Hugs and kisses. Tears of joy.

We found a new spot in the park and began to throw the Frisbee farther than ever. I began to feel that glorious exhilaration that made David and Toph feel like Greek gods as they slung their own plastic disc across the beaches of California in AHWoSG. A trio of 16-inch softballers began to practice in our space, but instead of bitching about it, we all joined together, shagging those fat balls right there in the field* while throwing Frisbees, running at top speed, dodging bikers, tipping strollers, and drinking no fewer than Three Different Kinds of Iced Tea. This went on for several hours. We broke sweats and the sun kissed all of us. Today, my muscles remember every swing, every throw.

Every minute of the best day yet.

* It's Monday. Go ahead. Have fun with it.

STRANDED ON THE WATERFRONT
As I watched "Lost" last night, it suddenly hit me: Michelle Rodriguez is the spit and image of a young Marlon Brando.

Recognize.

ON THE THIRTY-SEVEN AT SEVEN THIRTY
"I have a brother who paints. He painted a tin man in a petrified forest. And he's, the tin man, he's sitting back fishing."

He certainly is. He certainly is.

SPRING FEVER BLISTERS
Was it yesterday? the day before? No. It was two weeks ago. Hang on.

OK. That's better. Like the weather lately — springish and spongy.

Television shows now ramp up the drama as is custom. It's the right thing to do. It's only polite, but it's so much more than that. Beth sleeps with Andy during prom, but the baby belongs to Carl. And Carl died in Season 2, Episode 3: Heart-Wrenching Jeep Rollover w/Flames. Who knew? So Beth like plans to surreptitiously ship the baby to Marybeth, who can't have a baby because of what transpired in a very special all new Season 2, Episode 7: Shock Horror Womb Kick at Dinner Buffet. Meanwhile, Justin comes back from London after a series of hard-core maxillofacial procedures (see Season 1, Episode 4: The Hockey Puck) restore his upper palate and aveolar process to their former condition. I don't want to give anything away, but look forward to a possible reunion between Logan and a certain someone (for clues, see S. 1, E. 1: Love Tunnel).

OMG I'msoexcited! The suspense is palpable. The palpability is palpable!

I won't be turning off the television. No, not when lives hang in the balance. Not when the tangibility is touching me! And the coffee stirs within. And so on and so forth.

Ahh!

(While researching certain aspects of this post, I came across this, which you will find either hilarious or distturbing, depending on how much coffee you've had.)

Bottoms up.