Random Thoughts On A Thorsday

At the bookstore I picked up my first paperback book since forever, The Spare Room by Andrea Bartz. 

A lot of books stocked on the shelves and display tables that morning seemed too similar, but this one’s blurb grabbed me by the collar and said, “A fresh and sexy ride, perfect for reading poolside.” Nothing like a spicy read to liven up a late afternoon or evening, right?

I think I got more than I bargained for. I’m at the 20% mark as of last night, and I’m nearly 100% certain the female protagonist will become a “marital aid” for a married couple. Ara ara!

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My brother is not doing well. When I thought things couldn’t get any worse, shit hit the fan on Tuesday morning. He’s back in the hospital, but I refuse to say why and what for. Just trust me when I tell you it’s very concerning. My sister is also acting up, which only makes matters worse. 

It’s no wonder I had a serving of Sutter Home pinot grigio with my crusted salmon dinner last night. 

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Finally, I have something to say about Arnold Palmer's "driver" and not the Callaway clubs he would customize for his own use. 

Until a few days ago, I thought the only thing Arnie & I had in common was a love for golf. Now in death Arnie gets to experience what I did when I was thinner and a regular at the gym three decades ago. I know people in general are curious souls, but Sweet Jesus… 

It's one thing for close friends and I to privately crack jokes about it, but it's not a laughing matter when a stranger violates the first rule of Fight Club. Not every guy wants feedback in a locker room or public restroom setting, let alone become the topic du jour after a speech or a press conference!

People like Tang Satan should let Arnie enjoy his afterlife in peace.