Overthunk

While it was never my original intent to turn this blog into an Antiques Roadshow competitor, that is the turn it has been taking of late. If you're not into old things, you might want to flip channels. If you are, stay tuned for a tale of lost relics, vulgarity and passion. This, blogpals, is my first typewriter. Now, I know: "WHa?!?!" you're shouting to the screen before you as you sputter forth flavorful capuccino and/or mouth-swished gatorade. Yet, no, I'm not much older than you thought. This ancient machine of uncertain age and lineage was purchased for me by my grandmother when I was but a young, nerdy writer whelp of 12 or 14. Though it languished in my mom's hall closet for many years, unreachable due to crap piled 10 feet high in there, recently we took stuff out of the closet and so it has returned. It is still functional but for the lack of a ribbon -- it can type in black AND red, given the proper ribbon. To make the letters, a metal arm jumps fo...

Recently, due to Arctic Blast 2007 (i.e. a quarter-inch of sleet upon these Dallas roadways), a much-anticipated night of drinking, fooling around and Sopranos was nixed. Did I sulk? Well, hell yes, I did. And then I did some more. But after that, pouting began to bore me and I hit upon a mission: I was gonna make a goddamn sock monkey. Why the flip did this occur to me? Well, I'd talked it up for many years, seeing as how my grandmother gave me one when I was six or seven and it was subsequently so cherished and frequently hugged that the tail developed a hole at the end. As it turns out, my friends listen to me on occasion, so I was gifted with this kit at Christmastime this year. Though my original hosiery simian was far more tricked out than this one, with a red gingham dress and hat that had lace trim, this nostalgia-fueled, red felt vested ape would do nicely on a blustery, pissy winter's night . Besides, the original mon-chi-chi was lost. Generally speaking, I'm n...