Newscoma

(Sing title to Cowboy by Kid Rock. It rather works.)

Have you ever had a day where it went so slow that it felt like I was riding the back of a turtle that was leaving Hoots and had to be in Vegas by the end of the work day?

I did see one of my coworkers pull her cell phone out of her bra when it rang and talk to her husband about she wanted Loretta Lynn’s Greatest Hits CD while “I’m the Happiest Girl in the Whole USA” serves as her ringtone. This rather endears her to me.

As I think the most viable line of employment for me these days is being a bona fide hobo, it was not a day of fun and revelry. I had to go try to figure things out last night and I realize I’ve got some pretty big decisions to make in the coming weeks. As I am really not in the mood to be an adult right now, I’m not looking forward to things I must do, I thought I would just share my random dark thoughts.

I realized that I most likely need a new hobby. While we wait for me to determine what I actually need to do, let’s do a link dump.

• Guns, Guns, Guns are the Tennessee Legislature’s favorite topic. I still maintain that the locals have not heard from their elected officials. Bluto has a good write-up about this.
• See Rock City!
• We’ve done puppies at Chez Coma. Le Blanc has kittens.
• I concur. Jack Lail has a petition worth signing. Read The Bill to be sent to our representatives. If this wahoos are going to vote on this stuff that we have to live with, then they at least need to know what the bill says. (Filed under This-Should-Be-Obvious.)
• Get that pitchfork back out of the shed. AIG is at it again with the bonuses.

Now on to various annoying autobiographical stuff. You know that I’m bored and tired. I think I’ve been a harpy about that one little fact this week. So, in a dream quest that was much more exciting than my real life, I hung out with a blogger during my nocturnal wanderings.

Last night I dreamed about Nashville’s very own Aunt B. We were in Memphis eating crepes and a very young Keith Olbermann was showing us around Beale Street. Then we went to Graceland w/Olbermann because we were both convinced he had psychic powers and we wanted to channel the ghost of Elvis’s mother Gladys. Olbermann grew very tiresome to us, so we just left him and drank tea in some spinning restaurant that oddly looked like the one at the Doubletree in Nashville.

Dreams don’t have to make sense.

Finally, this has been around the tubes the last couple of days and we just got our Internet back at the house yesterday. Your moment of Tennessee government zen with a tip of the hat to Christian Grantham: