Song That Was In My Head When I Woke Up This Morning, Third and Final Edition

"Slow Ride" by Foghat.

All I have to say to that is . . . WTF?!?

Verging-on-Begging-for-Comments Request: Tell us* what song was in your head when you woke up this a.m. Or, if it turns out I'm the only person this happens to on a daily basis, you can tell us* that too. Okay, cool, thanks.

*By "us" I mean me of course -- but I like to pretend I'm not alone in this thing. Just play along.

Song That Was In My Head When I Woke Up This Morning, Part 2

Hello Operator by The White Stripes.

Phew, that's better . . .

Song That Was In My Head When I Woke Up This Morning

"The Year 3000" by the Jonas Brothers. Good lord.

It was a little distressing, but when you have a 12-year-old daughter moments like that are, apparently, unavoidable . . . it was kind of catchy though . . .

Good lord.

Update: The Number 33

Yes, my fascination with constantly encountering the number 33 is no doubt deeply fascinating to you as well -- so much so, I'm certain you've been anxiously awaiting an update to my original post "The Number 33." So here it is. No thanks are needed -- your just having shown up is thanks enough.

I still have no idea what it really means, this cropping up of numbers, and it may mean nothing at all (correction: it definitely means nothing at all) but I can't deny that it's there. Well, I could if I wanted to. But that'd be so much less fun for me.

Anyhoo, some places that the number 33 (and 333, because we're expanding! New and improved!) have cropped up recently:

~ Time. I'm always looking at the clock at 33 past some hour -- 5:33, 11:33, 3:33 . . . well, you get the idea. I also look at the clock at 4:08, 6:23, and 10:19, but those don't count.

~ Timestamps. Well, I'm not sure what they're called, but I've paused the DVR on more than one occasion at 33 minutes. Mysterious! Oh, and I frequently get e-mails at 33 past the hour or 33 seconds past the minute. And it's sad that I'm even looking at stuff like that, isn't it? Er, forget I said that . . .

~ Money. My last check for substitute teaching this school year? $333. Oh, and my pizza order at Little Caeser's totaled $13.33. But I'm not sure if that counts. The pizza was delicious, however.

~ Viruses and Other Annoying Computer Crap. My laptop contracted a virus recently, and upon scanning found it had a combination of viruses and spyware totalling -- ready for it? -- 333.

~ Drivers Seriously Trying to Piss Me Off. Got cut off the other day by a guy with a license plate that had the number 333 on it. Didn't catch the letter part of the plate, which is why I would never be a good accident witness. Not terribly observant on the whole.

~ Travel Time. Apparently, according to that oracle that is MapQuest, I will be driving 33 minutes to take my daughter to see Avril Lavigne and the Jonas Brothers next week. The 33 minutes is the highpoint of the experience for me, I'm thinking, but I'll let you know how that all pans out.

Okay, I'm sure I have more examples to offer but must head out to venture across the river to Missouri, to pick up a Powerball ticket. The jackpot? $33 million. Ohhhhhhhh yeah.

Oh, and that image up there? Apparently there are 310 ways to arrive at the number 33 in the puzzle shown. Sweet.

Rejoin Our Regular Programming After the Break

It's a short break, just 'til next week, but since you bothered to stop by I figured I better let you know. I'll be back -- it's just that mid-summer thing, with family in town and blogging just seems, well, rude. Unless they're really bugging me. Then I'll pretend I have "work" to do, and tell you all about it. In code. So read closely . . .

Oh, and just so you don't leave empty-handed here's some stuff to click on, if you happen to have a few moments to indulge your curiosity ('cause you know your curious) :

Something that makes me tear up (damn it!) it's so freakin' heart-warming

Something that still cracks me up even though I've watched it 143 times (not really) (well, maybe)

The song that was in my head when I woke up this morning

Cosmo: $4.29 I Could Have Spent on a Gallon of Gas

. . . and should have. Because upon purchasing my first Cosmo in, oh, 18 years, I discovered that it sucks. Eggs.

I made this purchase, of course, spurred on by the attention a previous post on Details and Marie Claire had garnered, and my own current obsession with the superiority of men's magazines. I had anticipated crafting a clever, irreverent and ultimately thought-provoking post, but instead I found fodder for, well, nothing. I can't believe people actually read this drivel. On purpose. And pay for it. Like I did. D'oh!

Here's the thing. Cosmo is 89% about sex. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Were it useful/intelligent/remotely intriguing information, that's be totally fine. But instead we get "Taboo Sex: The Dirty, Sexy Moves a Man Craves in Bed" (which are different how from the dirty, sexy moves Cosmo has written about in the last 1,647 issues?); "Caught Butt Naked" (Tee Hee!); and "Sexual Health: How to Decode the Sneaky Signs of an STD (Ah, those sneaky STDs. Little scamps!). Ummm, I knew all this stuff before I bought that last issue of Cosmo 18 years ago. But maybe that's just me.

The other 11%? Fashion and beauty (which they do a passable job of, actually, but it's not anything I couldn't find online in about 8 seconds and for free), and indispensable advice pieces like "Summer Dangers You Don't Think About," which gives us this startling revelation -- "Going out for a run in the evening can be convenient -- and the views at sunrise or sunset can be beautiful -- but those times are far less safe." No shit! I feel so informed now. Thanks Cosmo!

Finally, I can't possibly read a magazine that, in a subhead, states: "This is the kick-ass season, but the high temps and humidity can bring challenges." What, am I 12??? The kick-ass season?? What does that even mean??? "A" kick-ass season, maybe, as in, "The Packers had a kick-ass season this year," but . . . It's enough to force me to utilize multiple question marks. And you know that's pretty freakin' serious.

Okay, here's the score on this one:

Cosmo: 0

Me: also 0, for spending my hard earned cash when I had a perfectly good GQ waiting at home.

Buddhism, or Setting Myself Up for More Failure

After I got a ton of traffic from that last post about "Marie Claire Vs. Details" (thanks GlossedOver!), I'd decided to write more about my ruminations on crappy women's magazines . . . but then I was sidetracked (ADD anyone?) by my OTHER active ruminations, on Buddhism of all things. So I decided to write about that first. Yeah, we'll see how it goes . . .

A little background: as a lifelong hardly-practicing Christian, I have come to the conclusion that while Christianity is certainly a perfectly valid form of spiritual practice for those who choose it, it's just not my thing (I'll take this opportunity to apologize for offending the sensibilities of any wayward family member who might happen to be reading this -- uh, sorry). What is? Not entirely sure, but have always been drawn to Buddhism, at least intellectually -- I know a small bit about it after taking a religion course on it in college and doing some reading on my own.

There are a number of reason it appeals to me, and I won't bore you by enumerating any of them (and the collective sigh of relief . . . ). I will, however, allow you to join me as I peruse and react to a list of the Five Buddhist Precepts (kind of like commandments, except without the "eternal damnation" clause attached -- phew!).

Buddhist Precepts

There are five precepts commonly observed by Buddhists:

1. To avoid killing or harming any living being. No problem here, I don't hunt, don't even like to squish bugs (though those giant cockroaches in Florida were asking for it). Oh, well, there is that pesky meat-eating thing. Does that count? Hmmmm.

2. To avoid taking that which has not been given. Now this I can do. Except for all those books and DVDs I borrow and, er, forget to return. But you can help me on this one -- do not, under any circumstances, ever loan me a book or DVD. Or CD. Or clothing. Or money. Especially money. Okay, I think we're good.

3. To avoid committing sexual misconduct. I did a little research on this one (I mean, come on, this is not very specific, is it?) -- apparently it basically means don't have sex with someone with whom it is "improper" for you to have sex. Excellent. One definition of "improper," by the way, is "abnormal or irregular." That should be easy to avoid. Maybe.

4. To avoid using false words. Okay, no lying. I'm a horrible liar anyway, so I'm very nearly in the clear on that one. This is looking pretty good. And finally . . .

5. To avoid taking alcohol and other intoxicants. Whoa, wait a minute here. Seriously? Shit.

Disclaimer (necessary due to an overactive sense of guilt from my previous incarnation as a Catholic): This is, of course, in no way meant to disrespect Buddhism. It's merely my gut-level reactions to a set of standards that I will, very sadly, find it hard to live up to . . . fortunately, Buddhists have lifetimes to achieve enlightenment, so it's relatively low-pressure situation. Nice.