Bad Thermostat, Bad

Winter refuses to end here in Texas. It is very depressing. Some people actually like this damp, cold business, but not me! To compound this problem, a few weeks ago our heater became erratic. In that the thermostat started playing god, and would only heat the house to its own desired temperature and not the one we programmed it to be. Hey heater, I want it be 75 degrees. No problem, says heater, here's a nice 60 degrees just for you! Unacceptable, I say, shaking my fist at the heater. You cannot defy me! I'll send The Boy out to buy a new thermostat to replace your douchebaggery self. Those were fighting words. I showed that thermostat who's the boss, and um, yes, then I was lazy, and so was Boy, so we only now got around to installing the new one. I read instructions and held a flashlight, and he did all the manly work of putting wires in to holes. See, manly. Now we wait to see if this thermostat follows house rules.

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We were watching some Mad Men, and there was this scene, that I understand was probably meant to be shocking and to show how far we have come, but really, did people in the early 1960's seriously just obviously shake off their picnic blanket full of trash on to the grass they were just enjoying sitting upon? Seriously? I simply do not believe this. I get throwing beer cans in to the woods--it's out of sight, who cares? It was fun tossing it and all that. But just standing up and leaving piles of detritus in one's wake? Nope, just don't believe it. Sure it's the age of inventing trash such as disposable diapers, but not a total disregard for living with filth in nature.
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I have a new quote of the day from The Boy, "My hand is my friend." Seems he even said this in front of his whole group of people at work some time ago. Oops. This all came to light today with all the talk about Sarah Palin reading bits of her speech off of her hand. Beyond what ever else The Boy may use his hand for, his dear buddy, his pal, he uses it to take copious notes using a black (or red) Sharpie. What would have been an awesome thing for him to say after advising his staff that his hand was his friend, was to say, "It is always staining my sheets, too. Grumples gets so angry over it!" However, The Boy would never say that because he wasn't being purposefully uncouth, that's just me. It's sad how he has to put up with me like that. Send him your prayers.
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Now for the Gaysian part of the show:

Guamaniac: i've gotten a little flabby in the middle
Grumples: you have NOT gotten flabby
Grumples: you're crazy
Grumples: good god, i should beat you for saying that
Guamaniac: my waist is still small, but my stomach is flabby mcflabb. it's weird
Guamaniac: i've been really lazy about the gym lately. stupid cold.
Grumples: obviously you are quite high
Grumples: drink one less drink each time you go out, and that will solve a lot
Guamaniac: it is b/c i do drink beer now too. stupid skeeball.
Guamaniac: i'm growing a beer baby. i never thought i'd see the day
Guamaniac: i actually crave beer sometimes
Grumples: um, yes
Grumples: stop drinking beer
Grumples: it will do nothing for your beer baby but make it bigger
Grumples: abort the beer baby!
Grumples: give it vodka
Guamaniac: i know. i need to go back to the basics.
Grumples: shots should work that baby right out of there
Grumples: i also don't mind punching you in the gut if you think that will help
Grumples: come on, i want more abortion references!
Guamaniac: hmmm. well, my fetuses are pickled and sent to mexico for tacos.
that's a little known secret.
Guamaniac: they were also featured on The Food Network. "So much flavor," says
Bobby Flay.
Grumples: bobby flay is a punk ass who i want to kick in the gnads
Grumples: the we'll see how flavorful he finds things
Grumples: anyway, those fetuses are not beer babies, those are poo babies
Guamaniac: Well I will save you the next jar. I'll make (Boy Toy) get on it
soon...literally.
Grumples: ha ha
Grumples: poor (Boy Toy)
Grumples: we should have a threesome date
Guamaniac: hand's off my nerd. you have your own.
Grumples: but i want to play with yours
Guamaniac: no way. STOP HOARDING HOARDER!
Grumples: i can't help myself
Grumples: i'm totally emotionally attached to your piece of ass
Guamaniac: well, i'll call the show. we need to get you help.
Grumples: ok, it is time for us to leave
Grumples: go grunt out some beer babies at the gym
Guamaniac: i'll push some out just for you.
Grumples: make sure you save the umbilical cord
Guamaniac: hahaha. gross.
Grumples: who knows when you may need that core beer for later
Guamaniac: we can use it for a keg stand. it all comes full circle
Grumples: oh, man, that is just wonderful
Grumples: i love the circle of life
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Crap, the thermostat turned off at 70 degrees. Crap, crap, crap. A call to the insurance company will be next on the list. Poo. The good news is our divorce with AT&T should be finalized on February 17th.
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Driving home today, in slightly-heavier-than-usual traffic, I thought about a website I used to read back in 2000. I hadn't thought about it in years, and I have know idea what spurred me to think about it now. I did some hot Google action, and found this and this. Sadly, the original website that so fascinated me with gross, stinky science, no longer exists. I will just have to perform my own experiments. Starting with how long can I make love to the couch before getting bedsores.