Forever in peace may you wave

It's Flag Day once more, and time for my annual (and brief) reminder to fly it properly or don't fly it at all:

FLY or DIE!

Yes yes, it seems I'm the Vexillophile version of P. Diddy... hard to believe that title was yet unclaimed, wasn't it? Well it's all mine, suckaz! Also, I'd like to point out that my annual reminder was as brief - if not moreso - as advertised. Just another way in which you can place your complete trust in any and all content you read here at Scotland of the Soul.

But I didn't really post today to talk about flags. I posted today, as I do every year, to give a shout out to my blog-homey Rachy. Though it's been quite a while since she last made an appearance in blogdom, she's still good people. Well... as good as can be expected for someone descended from deported criminals.

Don't fall, just be who you are

So yeah, I'm a cold callous blogger. I missed blogging on a couple of important days recently. OK, so I've missed blogging on a LOT of days recently, but these were like actual for-real important.

First and foremost, I let Flag Day go by without a shout out. Not only to the flag, of course, but to my blog-homey Rachy. Four years ago, she stumbled across my whimsical post about shenanigans of Flag Days long past, and introduced me to what I previously thought impossible: a mind more twisted than my own.
You're awesome, Rachy. Keep it up.

Also, Father's Day was this past weekend. While that's not nearly as important for me as Flag Day is, it did get me to thinking... What do kids of lesbian parents do for Father's Day? Do they ignore it, do they have special rituals like Jews on Christmas? (though I don't see movies and Chinese food really saying "Lesbian Father's Day," do you?) Do they get the really butch mom a card? What?

Anyway, I'm sorry I wasn't around to disturb you guys on the appropriate days. I'm sure you'll forgive me in the fullness of time.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

Hello again, everyone. It's Flag Day again, so before I get to my point, I'd like to begin with my traditional request to post the colors with dignity. Remember that we don't fly them for each other, we fly them to honor those who made it possible for us to be flying them today. They'll appreciate it.

On a personal note, this marks the beginning of my third year as Rachy's blog-homey. Many of you also lurk over at her site, so you know she's been in and out of the hospital for the better part of last year. For my part, I can say that it's been a rather lonely internet without her around. Whether it's an intesting comment on German literature, poking fun at inane celebrity, or a report of a recent night's carousing, I've always looked forward to whatever she's had to write. I didn't always understand it, of course, but I appreciated it nonetheless. (someone told me they spoke English in Australia... but I'm not so sure)

With as much traffic as this blog gets, I'm sure word of this post will get back to Rachy in no time flat... say a month or two. So whenever it is that you do happen to drop by, Rachy - well, I was thinking of ya. Have a drink on me. I'm good for it... possibly.

Its fun to lose and to pretend

I don't suppose any of you would believe that it's (Extremely) Random Posting Day, would you?

No, I didn't think so.

Regardless, if Rachy can finally get up off her ass and start posting again, then I can't really make excuses for not following suit, can I? Unfortunately, after almost two month of blog-silence, I really don't have anything much to say. I've spent all my time holding on to my school schedule with both hands, and just trying to pass. It's my last semester at good ol' Hammistan U. and I've wisely saved some of the most difficult courses for last. On top of that, EVERY class in my major has some sort of group project that's due right about now. I've got 5 projects in 4 classes, and just finding time to meet with all these people is making me batshit crazy. But hey, in about two weeks, I'll get a sheep's ass with my name written on it that says I've done gradurbated. It's SO worth it... or something.

Anywhom, that's my excuse for not posting more often. It almost sounds believable, doesn't it? As far as you know, it is!

But I digress. On to the random posting.

I've noticed that when I drink coffee-flavored drinks (e.g. Slim Fast, or Frappuchinos) that my piss smells strongly like coffee. This isn't really anything odd - a google search will confirm that lots of people go through that. However, when I drink actual coffee... my piss just smells like piss.
Weird, huh?

My Cowboys picked up Pacman Jones from Tennessee this week. I guess they finally ran out of regular uniforms, and needed to get someone who would be comfortable in an orange jumpsuit. The best part is that in another 5 years or so, that will be the 'Boys official "Throwback" Uni.
Hah. I kid, I kid. Still, I've gotta love Pacman for keeping my favorite Cowboys joke relevant:

How is it that Jerry Jones can always find a seat on the bench when he's sideline at a game?
He sneaks up behind the players sitting down and says "Will the Defendant please rise."

~sigh~

In a perfect world, clowns like Pacman would be the Hot Pretzel guy, and Dat Nguyen would still be on the field tackling guys like a fuckin' freight train.

Waiting for her head to explode

I've tried to write about this for a couple days now, and I'm still not sure which angle to take on it. Honestly, I'm not sure if this post should be overly critical, or highly complimentary, so I'm just going to throw some words at the screen here and see where it takes me. What I am sure of, however, is that our friend Rachy is in the wrong damn hospital.

BRISBANE, Australia - Doctors plugged an Italian tourist into a drip-feed of vodka to save him at a hospital in Australia that ran out of the medicinal alcohol it would normally have used for treatment.

"We quickly used all the available vials of 100 per cent alcohol and decided the next best way to get alcohol into the man's system was by feeding him spirits through a naso gastric tube," Dr. Gelperowicz said in a statement.

"The patient was drip-fed about three standard drinks an hour for three days in the intensive care unit," he said. "The hospital's administrators were also very understanding when we explained our reasons for buying a case of vodka."

The patient, who was believed to have ingested the poison in an attempt at self-harm, made a successful recovery.

Three drinks an hour for three whole days. By my math, that's 216 shots wasted on some asshole who wanted to hop the Antifreeze Express to "My-girlfriend-dumped-me-ville." Ladies and Gentlemen, the Australian medical system. Ass-backwards care for spinal patients, but an open bar for the suicidal dumbasses.

Try shaking a box in front of the Queen

Well it's Flag Day once more. If, by now, I have to tell any of my loyal readers about proper flag etiquette, I'd just as soon punch either one of them in the throat.

What's really important to remember today is that Rachy and I have been blog-homies for two years now. So today I'm going to celebrate in the appropriate fashion - with alcohol that I'm going to be drinking anyway, but I'll pretend that it's in honor of her. Cheers, Rachy!