Minor household repairs

If you ever find the need to shake off the groginess of staying up to 3am reading Dearly Devoted Dexter, trying sprinting around the csloping central Connecticut block with a caramel colored miniature dachsund hovering below you. Her back 2 inch legs working in a whirl of concerted effort like an animated character escaping a villain.

It truly works. That and Starbucks coffee.

Jeff Lindsay's second Dexter book was a good read. Funny, alliterative and literate. I don't read a lot of crime thrillers - so I don't have a wide frame of reference in which to place it. I think the last fictional thriller I read was Presumed Innocent, 15 years ago. My Italian Grandma Dolly in Chicago had lent it to me and I was quickly absorbed in Scott Turrow's world. I had my brother Ryan read it too and we drove out to Burlington, MA the day the Harrison Ford film version opened to complete the pop culture experience. A few months later - we were riding the orange line and we saw a 30something professional woman reading the hardcover book,. As we exited at Downtown Crossing - my brother stuck his mischevious teenage head into the train and blurted out, in the direction of the reader, "The wife did it!".

Here is a quote from Dearly Devoted Dexte:

Perhaps I was feling so happily mellow from the after-effects of my evening out with MacGregor (a real estate with a bad habit that Dexter took care of), but as I drove home I found myself humming a catchy little Phillip Glass tune from 1000 Airplanes on the Roof. The key to a happy life is to have accomplishments to feel proud of and purpose to look forward to, and at the moment I had both. How wonderful it was to be me.

There was this blurb about Matthew McConoughy in one of the tabloidy magazines that line the check out counter at CVS that said: On his days off he thinks to himself, you've got no obligations today McConoughy (I realize that is not how you spell his las name but I am too lazy to tab over to another browser to look it up) so why don't you give me 200 push ups.

Speaking of celebrated male torsos - some mischevious Porter Square denizen lobbed a ballon full of red paint at the large looming Abercrombie and Fitch billboard. They hit the shirtless model with the orange jacket on the uper right pec. Maybe they were protesting the seemingly fur trim on the hood. I wonder where they got the baloon? Iparty?

"Hi, I am looking for a fairly durable balloon that I can fill with red paint and lob at the Abercrombie and Fitch billboard near my train station. It's about 30 feet in the air."

"Protesing the fur?"

"Yes."

"Aisle 4."

Leno last night had Barrack Obamma, Maggie Gyllenhal and Taylor Hicks. Obamma admitted to inhaling pot in his youth and put off anouncing his run for president. Gyllenhal spoke of her admiration for Oliver Stone. (A not too surprising statement from an actress) and Taylor Hicks did his spastic neo-soul bend and hop dance around the stage. The 99 cent store Holiday Gift ideas were pretty funny though, esppecially the bear hooks.



Conan had a funny bit in which a member of his band sang a torch song about Britney's recent flashing of her nether regions whilst exiting her ride at Hyde. It was pretty funny and he climbed over the banister into the crowd. And then Tom Brokaw came out and had to follow that. Then Ed Helms did a funny bit where he sang music to Yanni tunes, I didn't realize he did a lot of voiceover work. And Sarah MacLachan finished the show singing a sappy Christmas song. I rememer it (Dublin in a rainstorm), 10 years ago thinking that she was a cutting edge songstress. Now she seems like a commercial shill - but I still like her quivvering Canadian voice. After the show ended - I continued to plow through the rest of the book while my wife was reading a more highrow biography of William James.

Well, time for some push ups, hold the paint balloons folks.