Things I've been a-pondering:

• Daddy, why did God take an hour of sleep from me this weekend? I needed that hour. I WANTED that hour. It went to October, you say? Those damn commies don't need my sleep! Slimy fascists!
• Dr. Charles Atkins, despite having keeled over a few years ago with enough grease in his aorta to lube a Hemi, developed one tasty diet. I think I've lost 10 pounds or so, and I'm definitely back down to wearing 38x34 pants, which is nice since 40x34s are about as common as a Welsh-speaking Indian. All I eat is meat. Meat, meat, wonderful meat, all the livelong day. Also: cheese.
  • Subtopic: Went to Casablanca for dinner on Saturday, which is probably not on the Atkins plan, despite my eating only two pieces of pita. I sucked down enough eggplant salad that I'm sure an evil carb or two entered my body, where it immediately set to work reinflating my paunch. I also drank a great deal of wine. Oh, Ernest Gallo, you are KILLING me. And I love you for it.
• Baseball season has begun! There were, of course, those two Yankees/Devil Rays games last week that they played in Zimbabwe or Jakarta or something like that, but nobody paid any attention to those. As usual, baseball continues to destroy one of the few remaining interesting things about it: tradition. For something like 8 generations, the Cincinnati Reds opened the season, but no more. Next they'll do something like say that the American League teams should get to play some National League teams outside of the World Series, or they'll make a rule that says pitchers no longer have to bat. What a bunch of schmucks we've got running America's Pastime. When I get elected commissioner...well, that's a whole column, for another time.
  Last night I got to watch the Orioles (the freakin' ORIOLES?!?!?) demolish the Red Sox, 7-2. Pedro managed to get out of the second, having given up three runs, which was surprising since his ability to throw 98mph fireballs seems greatly diminished. His was definitely at the top of his game when it came to hitting batters in the ribs, though, so at least he's got that going for him, which is nice.
• I just crossed paths with our diminutive office cleaning lady, and noticed that her Big Rolling Rig of Formula 409 had a large bag of (unused, thank heavens) Tampax-Brand Anti-Leakage Sticks hanging off the side. What's this all about? The chicks get name-brand menstrual products in their john, and all the guys get is this horribly unabsorbent, gritty toilet paper? I go in there to deliver the Parcel Post, end up having to sand my rectum 11 times, and come out feeling like my gentleness is on fire, walking back to my cubicle like I just got a Tabasco enema. THIS IS SO NOT COOL.
• My inability to awake in the morning has been getting really, really bad lately. Last night we hit the sack at around 10pm; I watched baseball for a while, but finally turned off the TV around 10:30 and rolled over. I actually fell asleep pretty quickly, and was looking forward to getting a solid 8 hours, getting up at 7, and then actually making it in to work by 8 am for the first time in, I think, EVER. What time did I wake up? Around 8, and only because Sarah was freaking out because our psycho-hose-beast cat peed all over the bathroom floor again. I'm going to try and get to bed early again tonight, but unfortunately there's an NCAA Men's Basketball Championship game on tonight that I probably shouldn't miss if I want to continue being considered marginally male. I predict I'll be up by around noon tomorrow, just in time to take a nap and call it a day. I work hard, after all.
• Tonight Sarah and I are planning to clean the dining room (still filled with junk since we moved in almost 4 months ago). Hopefully I won't be terribly injured, but no guarantees; cleaning and I are diametrically opposed to one another, and tragedy often occurs, usually when I get tired and retire to the TV room with a beer, and Sarah finds me down there and goes upside the head with a broomhandle. Assuming I'm not dead, I'll be back here later in the week.