Vacuity

Damn right. He’s a badass.

I’m referring to Alexander Hamilton.

In a desperate attempt to force myself to write a post, I scanned my list of labels for inspiration, and my eye fell on ol’ AH. So, purely for giggles, I checked his name on Google News.

Turns out my man has had FIVE articles referencing him in the past week!

(The one about the White House Tuesday Night Jam is my personal favorite. Placenta & avocado trees and the question of just how many spouses Mr. Chabon actually has were high points.)

Yeah, when we’ve been dead a hundred and five friggin’ years, let’s see if WE spawn quintuple news stories on some random week in May.

Pfffft.

I predict I’ll get two…tops.

Blogger is toying with me.

My dealer is now providing Drive Thru Crack, y’all…

Blogger has Mobile posting. From your cell phone. Are you KIDDING me, Blogger? Seriously – like I wasn’t ALREADY an addict?

(I have four blogs, dude. I know you don’t read them – you don’t even read this one, really, you’re only here for the music. But, I’m okay with that.)

So, thrilled with the prospect of being able to post from my easy chair – which is all of two feet from the computer – while watching American Idol last night, I put my feet up on the ottoman, took a picture of the tv (photographic evidence of my vantage point) and tried to post.

Five times.

For some reason, it wouldn’t go through with the photo attached.

I ignored the shakes and the eye twitching, and tried again.

Six more times.

Before I broke out in the inevitable cold sweat, I went to bed. I can control this, right? It is NOT controlling ME.

This morning, after I got the kid fed and my first cuppa, I re-examined the issue. I posted without the photo. Success! It went through!

…the post was all in Techno-Greek, with a plethora of question marks peppered throughout. GAH! What are these people DOING to me? Do they not realize that this sort of thing will drive me out of my ever lovin’ mind? That now I HAVE to figure out how to fix this problem? That I will spend HOURS of my life trying to find an end-around or widget or downloadable gibberish translator?

Obsession.
It’s part of the charm that is “Ri”…

Happy Birthday Clarence Clemons…or Alexander Hamilton.

Either way.

Both were born on January 11th. One is 67, the other would be 254. (Although, I swear I heard that Clarence Clemons had left us, too…but evidently rumors of his demise were greatly exaggerated…in my head.) The only reason I mention these dudes is to tell you that we made them Birthday Cupcakes tonight, although I do wish The Big Man all the best. Not much I can wish for ol’ AH…he’s pretty much gotten what he’s gettin’ at this point.

See, having just gone to a Birthday Party on Friday, Liam, like any good nearly three year old worth his salt, is still fixating on cupcakes. He’s mentioned/begged for/wheedled for cupcakes for the better part of the day…so naturally, Hubs and I wanted them too by dinner time. (I am SO impressionable. sheese.) I couldn’t let Liam think his toddler manipulations had been effective, so I decided to make some ACTUAL birthday cupcakes. Y’know, like it was planned all along. Had nothing whatsoever to do with Toddler Coersion.

Yes, to complete my elaborate ruse, I pulled up a picture of the E-Street band, pointed out Clarence on the Sax, and we all sang Happy Birthday to him.

Loser? Nonono! I am an evil GENIUS! At least, that’s how I prefer to see it.

Then we enjoyed some nice, fresh homemade-from-scratch cupcakes in CC’s honor (or Alexander Hamilton’s – I’m not particular) – WITH sprinkles and powdered sugar. I drew the line at making frosting…I don’t want to spoil the kid…

…what?

Don’t judge me…these things are GOOD.