Even a Slow Weekend can Offer a Diversion

It was indeed a sloe weekend. See...one of the problems with growing up is that as an adult there are certain responsibilities that you have and sometimes shit needs to get done. However, because I want to believe that there are people out there that will read this and I have a big enough ego to think that what I say is important, I am doing a post anyway. I discovered this weekend, thanks in large part to the New York Times, a new game. There are those out there that play fantasy football, I don't really understand this. I like to watch football, but I to create my own dream team of different players and then use an arbitrary scoring system that has little relevance to the actual games seems silly. I am however going to start playing Fantasy Politics. What's fantasy politics you ask? Well friends allow me to enlighten you. There is a website, the link is: www.fantasycongress.us, and on this website you can create a "team" of members of congress and score points for how well they navigate the morass of the legislative system and get bills made into laws. Sounds like a little bit too much fun doesn't it...well read our charter; too much fun is what we are all about.

Now, I leave you on a completely unrelated note, the lyrics to "French Inhaler", by Warren Zevon. Because it's my blog and I can.:

(Warren Zevon)

How're you going to make your way in the world
When you weren't cut out for working
When your fingers are slender and frail
How're you going to get around
In this sleazy bedroom town
If you don't put yourself up for sale

Where will you go with your scarves and your miracles
Who's gonna know who you are
Drugs and wine and flattering light
You must try it again till you get it right
Maybe you'll end up with someone different every night

All these people with no home to go home to
They'd all like to spend the night with you
Maybe I would, too

But tell me
How're you going to make your way in the world, woman
When you weren't cut out for working
And you just can't concentrate
And you always show up late

You said you were an actress
Yes, I believe you are
I thought you'd be a star
So I drank up all the money,
Yes, I drank up all the money,
With these phonies in this Hollywood bar,
These friends of mine in this Hollywood bar

Loneliness and frustration
We both came down with an acute case
And when the lights came up at two
I caught a glimpse of you
And your face looked like something
Death brought with him in his suitcase

Your pretty face
It looked so wasted
Another pretty face
Devastated
The French Inhaler
He stamped and mailed her
"So long, Norman"
She said, "So long, Norman"