What's the Deal With the Lack of Posts Lately?

I was on vacation last week, and returned to the warm embrace of Hurricane Irene, which has knocked out my power for four days and counting. As soon as it returns and I can descend to my depressing cellar, I'll be updating again.

When Sitcom Dads Become Badasses While Remaining Dads

I've been thinking about the few remaining pleasures in my life. On one hand, it's easy to recall them, because there are so few of them, yet on the other hand, it's difficult to recall them, because they're buried among, well, other things.

But anyway. One of my pleasures is my Sunday night ritual of watching Breaking Bad. This is a program that I started watching from the very beginning, unlike, say, Lost, for which I had to cram a full first season into a two-week span before the second season started.

ALLOW ME TO DIGRESS FOR A MOMENT
Watching a full season of a network show, especially an hour-long show, can be an endurance challenge. Mrs. The Anthony Show and I enjoyed watching the first season of Lost on DVD because we didn't have to deal with commercials and a week-long wait to start the next episode. On the other hand, after a few consecutive episodes it would suddenly be 12:45am on a work night and we'd be like, "Okay, just one more before we go to bed" and it turns out to be one of the more tedious Season 1 plots when Charlie's stuck in a cave or something for the entire hour.

On "Crazy" Women, Part II

She wears the I LOVE PAUL button so John,
George, and Ringo don't get the wrong idea.

So anyway, I have some more things to say about so-called "crazy" women.

The question that inspired last week's post was, would I date a hot woman even if she were crazy, and I concluded that at my current age and level of life experience, I probably wouldn't. But you must also understand that the level of crazy that I attract far exceeds the level of hotness that I'd attract. In addition, I think these two characteristics are related, so that the hotter the woman I'd attract, the crazier she'd be.

It's fortunate that I didn't attract many women at all when I was in high school, because I would have probably ruined my young life while dating a crazy hot girl.

On "Crazy" Women, Part I

Yes, I know that Janet Leigh wasn't the
psycho, but I'd probably date her
anyway if she were.

Yesterday a female co-worker asked, "Would you be willing to date a very hot woman if she were crazy?"

Because it's hard for me to answering a question without first asking a question, I asked in reply, "Define crazy."

"She's calls you all the time, won't leave you alone, she's clingy, that sort of thing."

Because it's even harder for me to answer any question with brevity, the following is based on the answer I gave.

First of all, answering questions like these can be very difficult unless the answer is preceded by, to paraphrase the Sports Illustrated football writer Peter King, "I think I think." (The writer Peter King shouldn't be confused with the congressman Peter King, who displays a lot more certainty when he expresses his opinions. I don't actually say "I think I think," because I would sound crazy to talk like that, even though I might just start to include that phrase in my conversations from now on anyway, but the point that's taking me forever to make is that there are decisions about which you can only speculate, because you don't know how you'd actually react if you faced such a choice in real life.

In other words, I'm not in a position to date other women, and haven't been for than 13 years in a civil-contract sense, even longer in a Get-my-ass-whupped-if-I-went-out-with-another-woman sense. However, with all that in mind, here (finally!) is how I'd answer the question.

The Time I Was Asked by a Total Stranger Whether I Needed to Deficate

This is a photo of the recently renovated bathroom at Penn.
I don't think my incident would have had the same kind of
"magic" in such a comparatively shinier place.

I no longer commute to New York City, and though it's been very beneficial to have a shortened commute — particularly because I'm home earlier so I can assist Mrs. The Anthony Show, who's outnumbered by the kids from the mid-afternoon onward — I do miss the occasional and unpredictable wacky and/or zany episode that is always possible when you travel in an area inhabited by several million random people.

This is the story of one of those episodes.

The Time I Personally Insulted a Very Angry Man I'd Never Met

Say hello to the little friend who
inspired one of my catchphrases.

Those who know me to a certain degree are quite aware that among my many idiosyncrasies is my habit of lodging a phrase — based on something I've read or viewed — into my head and repeating it, uh, repeatedly, only to abandon it abruptly and latch onto some other series of bon mots that are not all that bon.

Then, years later, I'll run into a former college classmate or co-worker from one of my many previous locations of employ and he'll ask me if I still say, for instance, "Pork chop sandwiches!" And sometimes I'll forget that I ever said "Pork chop sandwiches!" even though this particular person's mnemonic device for "Anthony, with whom I used to work" is PORK-CHOP SANDWICHES.

For unknown reasons, I suddenly thought of one of those long-abandoned phrases I used to say. To explain the reference I will touch on one of the most enjoyable films of all time, early gangsta rap, and my college-magazine experience.

And a good chunk of what follows is probably Not Suitable For Work, but that probably doesn't matter. You ready?

The Time a Somewhat Drunken Crazy Lady Jumped Into My Car

I'll have to hitchhike with the other hand.

I didn't post last week. My niece stayed with us for a week and I didn't have much time to do much of anything. Right now I'm blogging shortly after the first of what will be two surgeries for my carpal tunnel syndrome. There's really not much to say about the surgery other than it seemed to go well, and I have to type this post with just one hand.

So, I'll return to blogging with a brief anecdote about my only notable experience with a hitchhiker.

Though I haven't read any data on hitchhiking, I'm guessing that the practice has been in steep decline over the past several decades, along with other pastimes like playing with Tinkertoys or making 8-track mixtapes. There are two memories from my childhood related to hitchhiking: