It's Monday and I have nothing for you. Ever felt too loopy to write something sensible, yet not clear-headed enough to write anything "funny?" Yeah, that's where I am right now. I started typing up a little scene earlier. It was about a boy and a girl and a place and a conversation to be had. It had a twisty ending. It felt too similar though. So, you don't get it. Also, I should remember to keep saving this as I type, because we are in the middle of an ice storm now and the power could crap out at any point. I REALLY don't like it when the power goes out. This is one of the most adorable things I have ever seen. You know what's wrong with blogging? Well, the power JUST went out. Thankfully it came back on right away. Now, I have to re-type three sentences. I said "You. Fuck. Bastard." when the power went out. I swear a lot. So, where was I? Oh yeah. A problem with blogging. And this is not going to turn into a continuation of my Andy Rooneyesque screed from last week. Wait... Screeds are long aren't they? Rant? Diatribe? Something. A problem with blogging, at least for those of us who use our real names, is that we don't have cool nicknames. I was watching some UFC over the weekend. I was a bit late getting into that sport because there is something iffy, to me, about a sport where you are supposed to wail on a dude once he goes down. That's not right. Dude's down. I do like Georges St. Pierre. Seems like a nice fella. Canadian. Kicks ass. I am not a big fan of his nickname though. "Rush?" There IS one dude with a cool nickname. "War Machine." That is badass. Admit it. Are you admitting it? I wonder if it is from The Guess Who's "American Woman." And don't even mention the bastardized version by Lenny Fucking Kravitz. Peter "War Machine" DeWolf. At some point over the weekend, I jotted this down on a post-it: "She's got a past he can't undo. He's got some facts she can't un-true." There was a song playing in the background of an episode of The West Wing that I watched last night. It was The Grass Root's "Midnight Confessions." That sucker will get stuck in your head. It was one of my favourite episodes of The West Wing. It's called "Game On." It is the one where President Bartlett faces off against James Brolin in his final presidential debate. And he WORKS him. He's all "Talk to me about Eskimo poetry now, you dirty Streisand-marrying Republican!" President "War Machine" Bartlett. Probably not.

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