smorg

There are some things that I like, whether I want to or not. These include:

• Dogs - I have been afraid of dogs for my entire life, ever since a Dalmatian chased me into the ocean when I was around 7 or 8 and scratched my back up. But since we’ve had Taco, I’ve gotten to the point where I smile when I see a big dumb dog slobbering out a car window or on the streets, and want to go pet it and say ‘good boy, good boy, yes who’s a good boy, you are! that’s right you are!’. Damnit.
• Dane Cook - it’s something about his delivery. I’ve heard all the jokes before and told better, but some nuance in his enunciation and delivery makes me involuntarily laugh. I was listening to his new CD on the way to work this morning, and couldn’t help but laugh at his derision for his Tivo and how he calls it ‘Tito’ when it records the wrong thing, just to show it that he’s in control. Bastard.
• People - not ALL people, mind you. As a rule I find them annoying and suspect. But over the past 5 years or so I have become increasingly social and don’t mind hanging out or going to events. It’s weird, because Holly (who was the social one) has become more anti-social, although not as bad as how I was (you know, putting urine in jars and covering my ears and screaming when more than one other person was in the room). Even with these advances though, don’t ask me to go anywhere or do anything with you.
• Gray hair - I’m getting more and more of it, especially on the sides and when it’s short. I don’t care. I really, really don’t. I kind of like it, as it makes me feel like my age and body are starting to catch up with the crazy shit in my head. It can color itself like Richard Gere or fall out Bruce Willis style and I could give a shit, seriously. Holly, however, has threatened to dye it in my sleep if that happens, so if you ever see me and I am blond with highlights - that’s what’s happened.
• Making lists - I like making lists of things that I need to do, because even if I check off one thing, I feel a brief sense of accomplishment. On the flip side, the sheer volume of unchecked stuff makes me want to stick a fork in my temple.