I’m going to try a new blogging exercise for this entry. After I finish typing this intro I’m going to set my watch’s timer for minutes/seconds of whatever time it is at that point (7:15 = 7 minutes, 15 seconds, for example), and then I’m going to start the timer and write until the alarm goes off. I’ll stop right there, put in any links necessary, and then publish whatever we’ve got as is. Deal? Deal.

Both Beth and my mom hate my last entry. They say it makes it sound like we live in filth. I dunno, is finding cat shit in the bathtub every day a sign of filth? I’d say there’s a judgement call to be made there. Look, our house isn’t a pigsty, but let’s face facts: we have pets. A buttload of them. And pets make mess. So we don’t live in filth but, sorry Mom and Beth, we don’t exactly live in a house where you can eat off the floor — or would want to.

I’ve been listening to Willie Nelson pretty obsessively for the last few days, a greatest hits album that I listened to pretty obsessively back in the 80’s. I picked it up the other night at our local Second Spin for cheap, used. Almost every time I’m there I also buy a mystery CD. I go to the cheapo bin and pick one at random. I figure for a buck or two I’ll take a chance that I might find something I like. This time I got something by a swing band called Speakeasy Spies. Not bad, but… Eh. I did find something good that way once. Once. It was the debut (and last, apparently) CD from a guy named Jimmy Ray. It had a few decent songs on it, but it sort of also belonged in the bargain bin anyway.

Right now on the iTunes I’ve got AC-DC going. I guess this is turning into a music entry. Writing under the gun, you write about whatever is