Time will always slip through

I decree today to be Random thought Leap Day. Because, you know, I have the time, energy, and motivation to post just about that often.

First up, Maybe I shouldn't post so often. Otherwise, I'd get people sending me pictures of their naked bodies, like Rachy does. Sometimes I swear she only blogs in order to keep that river of sweet boobie pictures flowin' in.

And speaking of naked pictures, I've been watching a hell of a lot of porn lately. Kindof. Well, it's Food Network, but still... I know you guys understand exactly what I mean.
Look, I was off cable for about seven years, and only recently got back on the pipe. When I fisrt sat down to re-acquaint myself with cable it was like the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey when Dave goes through the Star Gate. Oh sure, I now realize that it's pretty much the same crap on TV now that it was back in the day... except for the Food Network.
I get that in order to keep viewers coming back again and again, you have to cultivate a visceral experience for them, much like pornography does. Except that Food Network has to hold your attention for at least half an hour, but porn only has to make it interesting for a couple minutes.
So yeah, it's food porn, but it's industrial-strength food porn. And my entire point in this mini-dissertation is that the other night when I was getting ready to play my Iron Chef drinking game, (e.g. drink once when Alton declares that the Ice Cream Machine is on, twice if he does it overly enthusiastically) I heard Alton offhandedly mention umami. I am not ashamed to admit that I got a bit of a stiffy from that.

I've seen a couple groups of kids out selling Girl Scout Cookies this week. I pray there's none of them around when I get paid, or I might as well not even bother going to the bank to deposit it.

You really need the gold that you've thrown away

Yeah, I've gotten busy with the arrival of the new year. I'm finally in my final semester at Hammistan U. (home of the fightin' Hamhocks!) but in order to gradurbate, I've had to nearly double my usual course load. I also wisely saved some of the most difficult classes for last, so you can imagine the demands upon my time. Thankfully, I've got my priorities straight, so here I am blogging again...
Anyway, that's not what I logged in tonight to tell you about. I actually dropped in to spread the word that there's been another odd disturbance in the state of Misery Missouri. Courtesy of Mark comes this latest possible sighting of Hillbilly Mom's Hillbilly Husband:

SPRINGFIELD, Mo. -- Some women in Springfield are regretting their decision last week to get a tattoo from a door-to-door tattoo salesman. At least one person had to be hospitalized and the others face serious health risks.
Friday night, a man knocked on doors holding a tattoo gun and offering his services. Tamra Eason described the tool as homemade, but still agreed to pay for a tattoo. So did two other women in her apartment complex.
"It was wrapped with black tape, had a pin underneath it, had fishing wire going through it, you could tell it was a homemade gun," Eason said.

The article goes on to dish out plenty of practical advice, such as:

"Getting a tattoo is like a wound. There's a risk of disease that may be long term or life threatening. It's a serious decision," said Jaci McReynalds, with the Greene County Health Department.

It's so much like a wound, that needles repeatedly pierce your flesh at high speeds. No, seriously, you guys, it even says that on wikipedia!
Finally, there's this lil' gem:

"Beware of deals in parachutes, brain surgery and tattoos," said Miller Cotton, a tattoo parlor owner.

Sadly, this dude turns out to be the brightest bulb in the bunch... except maybe for the mystery tattoo artist, who has thus far eluded capture while assisting three fools bid their money adieu.

There are, of course, some who will doubt that HH is behind this incident, but they don't read this blog, so the hell with them. Should you encounter one of those unfortunate souls as you go about your daily affairs, simply remind them that it is well-documented that HH has two families, which reside in DoNotLand and Diva Country, respectively. Springfield, as any map will attest, is located right upon the main thoroughfare between these two families... so obviously what happened was that while in transit between his families, HH ran short of gas money for one of his finely-crafted automobiles, and had to improvise his way out of the predicament.

I don't think it all rash to predict that HH will open a tattoo parlour in his Mini-mansion sometime in the near future. Buyer beware.