Our friend – and yours – Dooce has a few thoughts on last night’s victory over the Yankees:
Thank you, Red Sox. Today I pooped.
Dooce: Today I pooped
Blogging
Sonicwall Restrictions
I’m sitting in the Panera Bread in Saugus, MA doing some work before heading across the parking lot to the store. I tried to access my weblog here at bryanstrawser.com and got this message:
This site is blocked by the SonicWALL Content Filter Service.
URL: http://www.bryanstrawser.com/
Reason for restriction: Forbidden Category “Pornography”
What the hell?!
I checked Sonicwall’s Category Descriptions and found this:
Pornographic sites containing sexually explicit material for the purpose of arousing a sexual or prurient interest.
Yup, you got it. My weblog is pornographic.
I guess I say FUCK too often.
Well, Fuck Sonicwall!
Dooce on Poop
If you don’t read Dooce, well, you’re just missing out on the finer things in your life:
Hello, Internet. My name is Heather and my website is the number one search result for “poop in my ass.” Life doesn’t get much better than that.
And then there’s this fine entry:
I guess C. was at work the day after traveling for a few days, and he found himself IN THE COMPANY BATHROOM (I can hardly type these words without my whole bowel system clinching up), and The Big Bad Motherfucking Poop hit him. He was going to have to pass The Big Bad Motherfucking Poop at work because it was coming and nothing could stop it. For those of you who have been really constipated you know which poop I’m talking about. It’s the one that you can’t physically pass because it’s so hard and large and GRANITE-LIKE IN TEXTURE that the law of physics says, “This is too big to fit out your butt.” But The Big Bad Motherfucking Poop disregards the laws of nature. It defies nature, and it must be passed because it says so.
So C. is sitting on the toilet, his pants around his ankles, and The Big Bad Motherfucking Poop is making it’s way out his butt even though Object A is too big to fit through Object B. And he is in pain, a lot of pain, the pain of a woman feeling the head of her baby crowning through the birth canal. The pain is almost indescribable, and as he is telling me this story I want to hold his hand and assure him that everything is going to be okay because I HAVE FELT THAT PAIN. Pain, oh pain. The world is going to end PAIN.
Go read Dooce now – you won’t regret it.
Busy
Been busier than a one legged man in an ass-kicking contest.
I have much queued up to blog about – but first I need to relax 😉
More to come…
The Black Dog and Heather, Interrupted
For nearly two years now, my daily blog reading has included Heather Armstrong’s classic Dooce and her husband’s equally entertaining Blurbomat. Through the lens of a blogger, we’ve seen Heather and Jon move to Utah, get fired, find a new job, buy a house, remodel a kitchen, have a child, and struggle with the black dog of depression.
Now it looks like the dog is back and isn’t going away:
I wish that I could tell you that the reason you won’t be hearing anything from me in the next several days is because we’re right on the verge of launching the redesign. And we are, I promise, we’re right there, just a few more MT plug-ins and some tweaking on the templates and we may have a new site! But that’s not the reason.
It’s also not because Leta is really cute in her caterpillar pajamas. Or that her face smells really good.
The reason you won’t be hearing anything from me for several days is because this morning Jon is driving me up to the hospital and I’m going to check into the psychiatric ward. I am very scared that if I don’t go ahead and do this that I may experience some sort of nervous breakdown.
As I’ve written before, I’m highly sympathetic to this – not just because I love the Dooce blog, but because I had my own struggles with depression twelve years ago.
I never had to check myself into a psychiatric ward – but I did go through several weeks of counseling and took Prozac for a time. Thankfully, those days are behind me – and I hope I’ve learned enough to not have to ever go down that road again.
While I will miss Dooce in the weeks ahead, I truly hope that this break from the world will prove to be the catalyst that she needs to pull through – we’ll be thinking of Heather and Jon often over here….
I’m Bill Clinton, and I’m reporting for Booty!
Clearly, James Lileks writes one of the best blogs on the web. A sample from this week:
My life today would have been much easier if I hadn’t been struck with the vision of a former president taking the podium in Boston to announce “I’m Bill Clinton, and I’m reporting for booty!” I loved that line, which of course is usually a bad sign, but I tried to work it into the weekly column anyway. Hence my grief this morning, retooling the column I wrote last night. I also sketched ‘Fence last night; both were due at noon. I met my deadlines, but it took much Gnat pacification along the way. I hate Tuesdays. I’d say more, but it would sound like whiny mewling, and it’s not as if my day consists of hoisting barrels or disarming improvised roadside bombs. All in all it’s pretty good. Life is a shining jewel of inestimable value.
He just needs a RSS Feed!
Why I Love Friday
Friday’s always bring three things to me..
The first – and the most important one – is two days off in a row. Most of the time anyways. In my case this weekend, it’s one day off. And then I have to be up early to fly to Minneapolis for two days of teaching, status sessions, meetings, and project time. The good thing is that I have many friends there and will get to spend time with them. The bad side? This will make about my tenth travel day out of the last fourteen days. Not a good ratio – but hey, everything comes out of balance now and then.
The second, of course, is that Friday brings a new article from Victor Davis Hanson in National Review Online. Today, Hanson writes on Bush Hatred:
For the Left, Mr. Bush is automatically under a cloud of suspicion; he is an unapologetic twanger who likes guns, barbeques, NASCAR, “the ranch,” and pick-up trucks. It matters little that George Bush’s record on classical civil-rights issues is impeccable, without a hint of the deplorable racism of a younger Senator Byrd, a Lyndon Johnson, or an Al Gore Sr. Every statement Bush drawls out about religion, affirmative action, or abortion is forever suspect — sort of what would happen should a Germanic-sounding Arnold Schwarzenegger quite rightly lecture Californians about the need for greater order, efficiency, cohesiveness, and the willpower to regain pride and purpose. Necessary, yes — but for some, given his accent, Wagnerian and spooky all the same.
Finally, Friday is when Lex posts his Friday Musings – it’s early still on the west coast so you’ll have to read the previous Friday Musings. But there will be a new one there soon, I’m sure…
Ahhh, the glories of Friday!