Listen Up

So welcome to the new site. After all of the complaining about aesthetics and wanting to make sure this blog looks decent, I disregarded all of those notions and decided to just start doing the dang thing. I'm still trying to work out some kinks and hopefully at some point the blog won't look like it's being done by a Gothic 14 year old. Although I assure you that it would certainly be more creative. I'll put up the links on MySpace and Facebook when I post, but this is where you can expect the daily/weekly/however often I feel like it that particular time rants. You heard?

Oh, and I'm using Google Analytics to help track traffic. If you have a blog or website you might want to check it out. Google is way cooler than Excite. Did not see that one coming.

So if you're new to the show, welcome. You can check out old blogs on my MySpace page.

That couple in all those Sonic commercials would probably be a bit more robust if they really ate there all the time.

I've noticed, especially lately, that I really hate when people interrupt. Nothing is more frustrating. Then again, I think I do the same thing. Everyone feels the need to one-up the other in a conversation. Or talk louder. Talking louder is my favorite move. You know a fun game? If someone starts to play the volume shenanigan with you, see how high you can get the decibel level using the see-saw method. Then when the other person is at the peak just get real quiet and enjoy the entertainment. This is especially useful for older people as they won't have to invest in a hearing aid or the extremely creepy Listen Up device. By the way, if you haven't seen the infomercial for the aforementioned product you are really missing out. It's hilarious in a stalker, perverted sort of way.

Anyway, I think that's why two of my best friends are clinical psychologists. They're professional listeners. They let you get the b.s. out of the way and then, and only then do they tell me that I'm an idiot. That's all I want. To have ample time to prove my idiocy.

For those of you who read my blog regularly you know that I'm obsessed with words - the literal meanings, the root of common expressions, spellings. Anyway, we had an office-wide conversation this morning and I need the answer. The saying that sparked the conversation was "I know ____ like the back of my hand." We've all heard that expression. But my question is which side is the back of the hand? I always assumed that meant the top (not palm) side of the hand. It just seemed logical in my head that the palm would be the front because I always was looking at my hand at a downward angle and seeing the back. And since you see that side of your hand most often, I guessed the meaning implied that you know that part of the body pretty well. But what if that side is the front? What if you actually have to turn your hand over to see the back? I guess that would also make sense. The palm has more discernible features. There are lines, fingerprints, often scars. When you hold someone's hand, you see the top of the hand. So wouldn't that make the palm side the back of the hand? Maybe Mick Jagger knows the answer and just isn't telling. But seriously, I have to know.

You can have your "don't put periods in my name anymore" CC Sabathia, Brewers. Enjoy Mr. Harden, Cubs. The Cards have Mark Mulder going tonight! I mean, have you seen Mark Mulder? Jonah Hill thinks he looks like the first time he heard the Beatles. Mulder can pitch 8 innings, ok 3 innings, and still have that hair looking magnificent. That's impressive. I guarantee that intimidates the opposition. He'll probably throw a no-hitter tonight. Actually, the Phillies will probably have negative hits against him. Mark it down. Get it? Mark? I don't crack myself up.

Alright, that's it. Thanks for checking out the new site. Let me know if you have any suggestions or if you know certifiably what side is really the back of the hand. Good day.