Hat Day Ambush!
The Mountain of Love will be engaged at his church job the next three nights (ironic that Holy Week should so dominate the calendar of an agnostic who was for years an atheist); so, after careful deliberations we granted ourselves dispensation to celebrate Hat Day this evening. The Mountain wore his City of Grand Blanc trucker cap, The Buckeye wore his green transpart Las Vegas visor, and I wore his black quasi-Mushmouth hat which, incidentally, makes eating a tad more difficult. I may yet wear a hat during The Office on Thursday, if for no other reason than hats add a certain festive air to an evening, an observation which was the genesis of Hat Day. I love Hat Day and hope you do, too!

BTW South Song of the Day
Fountains of Wayne, "Someone to Love" from Traffic and Weather (Mt. Love)

Monday, April 2
The Aquabats!, "Lovers of Loving Love!" (bad demo) from Rice Capades (T.L.A.M.)

Commentary: The original album version of "Lovers of Loving Love!" was the Song of the Day for February 14, Valentine's Day, at which time I called it the second most romantic song ever written, after TMBG's "New York City."

Ricky Fitness
At the appointed hour, I had changed into my exercise clothes and was ready (or as ready as I'd ever be) to begin the day's session. The Mountain's phone was recharging on his desk and the Wheel of Baldwins on his door had been set to Daniel, "Knock Only If It's An Emergency." No emergency was this and his laptop HAL was sitting next to his mobile, ruling out email; I had no way to contact him. So, I departed for the ol' torture chamber alone and began the ritual.

Fifty minutes later, I had completed my (sic) run and had commenced my leg lifts when I heard someone using the keypad to the door. A blonde girl I had not seen before stepped in and asked if I was going to use the treadmill. I told her I was done with the machine and she remarked that she'd seen me in the "fitness center" quite regularly. I attempted to grunt a response between lifts and she misunderstod me to have asked her to repeat what she had said; so, again she said she'd often seen me during the daily grind.

It was at this point I made one of my classic mistakes: I attempted to make a joke at my own expense, patting my belly and saying I had a lot of revelry to make up for (through diligent adherence to a exercise regime). As ever, it fell flat. That kind of jest never works, not in a first conversation. Why in Eros's name do I persist in using them? Because I'm dim. I made up much of the lost ground by claiming I really only exercised as an excuse to watch Seinfeld every day. That got a solid laugh out of her, but I should never have had to make up that ground in the first place. I'd blame the lapse on the exertion, except that I've been that boneheaded quite frequently throughout the past decade.

However, considering I was already sweating like a Wilson, I doubt I did myself any great service or disservice either way. I hope to see her again, because I need all the practice for flirting with Pandora that I can get. What's with me lately? Is the monkishness of the three years in Grand Blanc finally wearing off? Is it simply that it is spring, the time when a young man's fancy naturally turns to love? Bollocks the cause, it feels grand to be back in the game.

No, your eyes do not deceive you: Wheel of Baldwins.