From The Hirp

• This probably speaks volumes about the level of excitement in my life, but I’m not afraid to admit it. I am thrilled about the latest edition to my blog. If you have any volume on your computer, you’re probably hearing it right now. If you don’t, I suggest turning it up a little and looking over to the side. See it? That’s right; I have an Ipod on here now! Thanks in large part to my friend Missy, who figured out how after I saw it on someone’s MySpace page. Really though, how cool is that? I just wish you could skip from song to song, maybe it’s just a problem with my computer and I can’t take advantage of that feature. Arguably the best perk to this isn’t even visible. The site used to manage the music I want played on there, stores my music on the internet for me. Allowing access from any computer, essentially turning any computer I can get my hands on, into a larger Ipod. This could come in very handy and makes it valuable to anyone who likes music, even if they don’t have a blog or website of their own. Not as convenient as an Ipod by any means.

• What is the over/under on when K-Fed, er, someone leaks a Britney sex tape? Let’s see, he’s bitter, broke, white trash and the only claim to fame he has is who he slept with. I can’t see why he would want to release a video. What will the title be?

• This was true when I was a kid, and it’s true for every married man today. When mom or your wife says “we need to do ___” it means you need to do this. This works in three, and only three sceneiors. Mom, wife or a boss are the only ones allowed to say this. Today, I had a co-worker mention how “we need to take the pizza boxes to the trash.” Now, she’s a wife and a mother, but neither to me. And she’s not my boss. So, if she thinks I’m going to touch the boxes, that she is very capable of moving herself, well she’s sadly mistaken. And if she happens to find this page, I’m in for a world class awkward moment. We need to make sure she never visits.

• Tonight I’m going to an end of the season dinner for my friend’s sons’ football team. The wife of the coach is a first rate bitch. I mentioned her behavior in a previous post “parent of the year” or something like that. But I don’t think anyone got her a trophy, and it’s a shame. She should know just how big of a bitch she is. I’m sure she’ll find out after her son spends the rest of their savings on therapy. But she should know now, and I’d prefer to be there when she finds out. In fact, I think I’d like to tell her myself. Hmm, that’s probably not a good idea. But if she happens reads this, it won’t be an awkward moment. Not for me anyway.