Michael's Texas Embrace

As a Manly Man, I often take an occasional stroll into the woods to reconnect with the ancient hunter roots of the species. I do so in the way the Ancient Ones did--completely naked except for footwear (I have sensitive feet.) In the winter it is no problem. You are cold, but the brush and leaves are at a minimum, and you walk unfettered through the forest, fingers lightly outstretched to prevent bare branches from poking your genitalia.

But today I entered the forest (naked except for hiking shoes and crew socks with a blue stripe) and the leaves had begun to return, and I kept walking through spider webs. So I picked up a stick to keep the spider webs at bay and felt even closer to primitive man. They must have traveled the same way, in comfortable footwear, a stick bobbing in front of them to clear the path of arachnids.

Murf made me realize that it had been awhile since I posted a crap-ass food song, so I'm posting another in my exhilarating series of dumb, short songs about food. This one is about beans.

These Beans Are Tough

I'm sort of at a loss. Normally I'd say a bit about the song, but I just don't know. It's got some bongo drums, glockenspiel, and a bit of pennywhistle in it. And then at the end I drummed on some glasses and stuff and processed it until it sounded strange. But I mean, I don't really know. There it is.

Me and Murf are trying to start Michael and Michael's Song of the Week Club, and we want you to join us. Every now and then Murf seems to send me a song as an attachment by Gmail, and sometimes I send him one, and the other day I thought, what if we had an email list, and every week everybody emailed everybody else one song they heard/listened to a lot that week that they wanted to spread the word on or whatever. It would be really easy, all it would take are email accounts that allow mp3 sized attachments, and people with decent internet that were willing to spread some music love. Then we just get an email list together, and then once a week, say Sunday, everyone sends out an email with a song. And maybe a few words about what they like about the song. What do you think? Anyone interested? Post a comment and let us know! We'll start a club and share some good songs!

(Murf adds the stipulation that if you don't have a good song, you can make up your own crappy song, and send that, and irritate everyone when they open your attachment and it's some crummy song about a pumpkin or something.)

What say you?

So the field that I usually play fetch with the dog in was muddy and full of water. But he clearly still needed exercise, so I decided that some vigorous apartment fetch was just what the dog-doctor ordered. But apartment fetch has to be pretty hardcore to be worthwhile for the dog, I feel. I do a lot of running away with his toys and doing a somersault onto the bed. This seems to make him both excited and angry. I also do a lot of picking up the ball, faking him out, and then spinning around and throwing the toy in the other direction.

But yesterday I made a terrible miscalculation, and did a wicked-fast fake-out spin that resulted in my forehead colliding against that little metal thing that the door knob latches onto in door frames. It hurt a lot, and I fell down. Then my forehead started bleeding, and now I have a red spot right on my hairline. I guess I'm glad it's at my hairline, though, and not between my eyes or something. That would be embarassing.

"What happened to your head?"

"Oh, I bashed it against a door playing indoor fetch with my dog."

Right. Some days I feel really dumb

So me and Maggie, we're pretty hott, and it takes work to stay that way. So every now and then we exercise. You know, burn off the calories. We eat healthy sometimes, too. I cook some mean japanese food, and I usually have a veggie burger for lunch (that's what's hidden deep within my little brown bags I carry to work.) And exercise is good for the soul. Which is important, since after having people over to have fun, you always feel a little empty.

But there was a miscalcuation somewhere. We had some friends over to play games, and most people seemed to bring drinks this time, even though as a noble and well-prepared host, I had enough beer to cover just in case no one brought drinks. So now I have a crapload of beer in my fridge.

THE FOLLOWING IS A TRUE STORY....

After a long, hard day of supervising coffee pots I arrived home from work and played fetch with the dog. Mostly I was throwing the ball and then going to get it and throw it again, though, because the dog seemed to mainly be interested in eating grass. Disheartened, we left the playing field and returned home, both of us a little full on grass. I entertained the thought of working out, and then decided to open one of the six thousand beers in the fridge and play some music instead. It was monday, and I remembered that Keenan usually worked monday mornings, but he was gone. I poured out some of my beer for my fallen co-worker.

"Crap," I said, realizing I had just poured beer on the carpet. The dog darted around and growled.

Maggie came home and we had some macaroni and cheese. Which I'm sure is healthy. Then we decided to work out. So I worked out hard. Billy Blanks would have been proud.

After working out, I cracked open a beer to celebrate all the calories I had just sweated off. I mean, there's just so damned many of them. Beers and calories, that is.

"Damned right," The Angel Gabriel said. "Lots of goddamn beers and calories." His wings fluttered gently as he lowered the Golden Trumpet of the Lord to the floor. He opened a can of Pabst.

"Opening that seems like exercise to me," I said.

He laughed and picked up his trumpet. "Are we gonna blow or what?" he said, putting the horn to his lips and testing a B flat.

"Are you kidding me?" I said. "I've blown pretty hard my whole life." I picked up my tamborine and started shaking in 3/4. Lord, 3/4 makes me weep everytime, right to the end.

And Gabriel rolled up the scale, mellow and smooth, while the dog started comping some major seventh chords. And I shook it.

This is just to say,

Due to Dave's mother's health, his and Rina's wedding has moved up. They have a nifty blog for their wedding with all the details you need, and it is here.

So go check out the wedding blog, and call Dave, if he hasn't called you. If ya ain't got his number, all the contact info is on the blog. And you all love Dave, so go quick! Make plans! Give him a hug!