I’m Cranky

I’ve been a little cranky lately, which I imagine comes as a great surprise to my vast readership. This happens from time to time, although outwardly I’m the usual congenial DJ.

I haven’t posted for a couple weeks, which is generally my longest standard sabbatical, so I decided I better get cranking. I still have a talent for the lame play on words.

There’s been some interesting activity since my last brief post about our July 4 celebration. I had stated then that The Exec was invited up to TCG’s Tahoe lair. I now need to publish a correction. The Exec had invited himself. This seems to be a pattern. As mentioned in my May 16 post, he insinuated himself upon my birthday celebration.

This Tuesday we had a Bastille Day celebration with a few of the more Eurocentric members of our village at one of the Peninsula’s finest hotels. One of our friends, whom I’ll now dub The Hotelier, is the GM there and had invited #1, TCG and myself, along with spouses, for a sumptuous appetizer array avec blanc e rosé champagne. Predictably, the cheeky Exec caught wind of this and crashed our soiree.

I spent most of last week in Portland. This is the third year in a row I’ve gone for the End of the Trail basketball tournament with my daughter. In the security line at SFO, it was pointed out to me that my license had expired, but they let me through. At that point, the wheels started turning. Would I have any difficulty picking up my rental car? As it turned out, yes, a great deal. I was seriously pissed at myself. Maybe that’s where my crankiness came from. Anyhoo, I was very lucky that my wife had tracked down my renewed license and even luckier that my bud The Banker was on his way up the next day. So I got through that experience relatively unscathed. The tournament went well for our team, with a 3-2 overall record. I did not get to spend as much time with The Banker and Maverick as in previous years. Their daughters were playing for a different team, and faced some tough competition, including the OR State champs.

During my off hours I played chauffeur to my daughter and a few of her pals. I ate at Red Robin about four times. They make a decent Cobb salad, which met my strict dietary requirements. One day we got a tour of Lewis and Clark College from the women’s basketball coach. If the kid manages to get some sort of scholarship, you’ll cease to hear me whine about all the dough I’m putting out for these tournaments, including her sojourn to San Diego with my wife this weekend. But that’s OK. It’s just me and the boys. We’re going to trash the house tonight.

There’s a lot popping in politics these days. Senator Tom Coburn, when not defending that weenie Ensign, was channeling Ricky Ricardo at the Sotomayor hearings. A lot of Republicans had the chance to flog the “wise Latina” phrase to death. I gotta watch what I say in this space if I ever hope to become the U.S. blogger laureate. It looks like Mark Sanford took another trip. He’s trying to put his marriage back together. For the sake of his four boys, I hope he succeeds. But he’s probably going to have to bail on the governorship. He just got nailed for spending big buck on his trips, which is at odds with his campaign frugality promises. Oh shit, who ever really believes anything these guys say.

OK, its cocktail hour. It’s time to warm up the DVR and spend some quality time with Olbermann and Letterman. Have a great weekend.