F Me Running

Heh. I've been hankering to post this picture ever since I took it lo, back in December 2006, when Merv & I found ourselves in Chelsea, NYC. We were on our way to meet some friends for dinner and I saw this sign. You New Yorkers may already know how the sales people at this fine establishment answer the phone, but I'm at a loss. Either way, my warped mind went where most of my readers' minds are going and I can't figure out how they get away with that.

But that is neither here nor there. Whatever that means. Matter of fact, I've always wanted to say that, too.

That is neither here nor there.

Damn, two things in one day. I must be livin' on borrowed time.

Nevertheless, last weekend, as I rode with Alec Roeser and lil bro Doug from RundgrenRadio (can I push this radio show any more?) from the Peachtree State (what's up with calling every street Peachtree anyways?) to South Carolina on our way to catch another Todd Rundgren concert, we began discussing the various origins of use of the word "fuck."

Whoa, don't even think about flinching. You know I've got a potty mouth - I just tamp it down at times...unfortunately this leads to a waxy build-up and eventual explosion at the most inopportune times.

Let me 'splain. A week or so ago, I had my arms full of stuff, including a newly opened can of nectar of the Gods - Diet Coke. I fumbled with the key to my door, unlocked my refuge, started to close the door and bent over to give CruiserDog a snuggle.

Yup - poor CruiserDog was then cascaded with a waterfall of Diet Coke and a barrage of the following words: "WELL FUCK ME!"

*click*

Yup, the door closed after my announcement to the world. Nice. Score another one for my neighbors who are already intrigued by the wild parties they think I throw every night.

I cleaned up CruiserDog and the floor and walls that had been sprinkled with Diet Coke and went about my business: checking the mail, feeding the dog, changing clothes - when suddenly, I whacked the bony part of my hand on the corner of the kitchen counter.

"WELL FUCK ME AGAIN!"

I snickered, thinking that if anyone was approaching my front door, they surely had backed away, not wanting to disturb me gettin' some - apparently for the second time and I'd only been home 10 minutes.

I was telling Doug about this story when he told me how his boss always says "FUCK ME RUNNING!"

Okay. Herein lies the purpose of this entry and I need your help. What does "fuck me running" actually mean?

No, seriously - who would've ever coined that phrase in the first place? It's not like you could possibly do that while jogging. Can you? Can you? We couldn't figure it out. Really, I'm perplexed. This is keeping me up at night and quite possibly causing undue stress on me.

The only thing giving me any peace is that I was finally able to use this photo on the blog. It's a good thing.

Getting That Old Southern Twang

Jeepers, has it been that long since I posted last? And how often do I say "jeepers" anyway? Yikes.

The world turns faster and faster these days for CruiserMel - and I suppose it does for you, too. Jeepers!

Last weekend I boarded yet another plane, headed east to Alabama - with a banjo on my knee - or was that an iPod? I met up with lil bro Doug of RundgrenRadio and we launched what we just know is going to be a lovely career in the music biz for Alec Roeser. Don't look surprised - I told you I was going into the music business!

We had three gigs in so many days and Alec kicked some serious tail. The Birmingham crowds really liked his beautiful voice and magical keys, not to mention his boyish good looks and dreamy songwriting. I was so proud of Alec. And Doug, the promoter extraordinaire. Nice job, boys.

I know I've got readers in the deep south, and let me just say this: if you want to see a budding talent before he makes the cover of Tiger Beat magazine, you would do yourself a favor by checking him out. No worries - I'll let you know where and when.

And there will be plenty of wheres and whens. Believe.

This weekend I'll head east yet again - good grief - to Georgia and South Carolina to see a couple of Todd shows and connect with some fellow Toddheads. Again. I know, I know. Call it what you will - midlife crisis, too much time on my hands, the desire to max-out my credit card, a love of airport food - but I'm going no matter what you say. So there. Updates to follow upon my return. Ah swayeh.

In the meantime, I will be hosting the RundgrenRadio show tonight, my chitlins. Yup. I'm chipping away at my 15 minutes of fame and going coast to coast! So check it out - 8:30 pm eastern time. Some good tunes, some good convo, some giggles, some ums, and lots of fun. Guar-on-teed.

My Apologies To The 'Rents With This One

I've come into the 21st century, folks. It only took me 8 years, but I finally own a laptop! Contain yourselves, please.

Today I had to drive to the DHL office to pick up said laptop. On my way over and back, I cut through the SMU campus, as I've done most of my life.

Oh I was never a student there, but I spent many a night at the SMU library and the student center back when I was just a pup. And by pup, I mean not old enough to realize what a pain in the ass I surely was back then.

Travel back in time with me, folks. Back to the days before we had laptops, before we had desktop PCs, before there was a major in college called "computer science".... back to the time of the *gasp* card catalog and the Dewey decimal system.

I know. I know. I'm ancient. But I'm cute, so you love me. Say it. SAY IT!

Back in high school, we had these things called term papers. Do they still do those? Probably not - that would require our nation's youth to earn their diplomas. Shut my mouth.

Anyhoo, we'd spend weeks gathering information from the card catalog, microfiche (whatever the F that was) and periodicals. We'd spend hours in the "stacks" gathering book after book (remember those?) and pile ourselves into the smoking lounge (oh yeah, they had those back then, too) at the SMU library and begin to compare and contrast the offerings of Issac Asimov and Ray Bradbury or debate the issue of euthanasia. And we used words like juxtaposition, which I haven't used since then.

And smoke cigarettes and flirt with the frat boys. And flirt. And flirt. And fuckin' flirt some more!

Come ON. We were 16 at best. We thought we were so friggin' cool - trying to get invited to the weekend's keg party. Never happened, sorry to say. I mean, we weren't even done filling out our bras, yet we thought these guys would be all over inviting jail bait to their drunk fests. Only now, decades later, do I realize just how smart those guys were after all, but at the time, it was nothing but disappointment - until the next evening when we would meet at the library and start all over again.

It's a wonder I graduated from high school with the hours I wasted on flirting in the smoking lounge. Hey, I don't think I ever made less than a B+ on any of those papers and that wasn't even trying.

Mom & Dad, sorry, but I didn't really apply myself. Except in the flirting department. And that was a science I didn't master until my mid-20's. And it had nothing to do with the fine education you graciously provided. If you'd only known what was going on at that library. Oh yeah, you probably did. So thanks.

*Can anyone help me with my transition into the 21st century by telling me how to make that playlist thingy move over to the left a little?

Lest Ye Think You're Having a Bad Day

My friend L has been trying to get me to notice the beauty that surrounds us in our cold, cruel world. Today, as I was goofing off at work, I found this in our building's courtyard:

Now, I ask you: how can a person stay grumpy when this is just outside the window?

Tonight I'm going to go see "21" for one of the following reasons:

1. I wish I was 21 again.

2. I'm in dire need of a trip to Vegas.

3. Jim Sturgess. Need I say more?

4. All of the above.

Hint: All of the above. See L? I'm noticing the beauty that lies all around us...... Happy HumpDay y'all!