Life during Wartime

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around–it’s…

Podcast Night.

I’m holed up in the back bedroom upstairs with some groceries, some peanut butter, but no speakers, no headphones, and no records to play. Podcast Night means that Husband gets the good computer and I get exiled, lest I get exposed to more liberty than I can handle. Once a week, you see, Husband and His Friend become the Voices of Anarchy and speak loudly on behalf of a Voluntary Way of Life. It’s not a Voluntary America, because anarchy has no room for America. It’s not a Voluntary Society, because it will be made up of individuals and their contract lawyers. I don’t have a clear picture of everything it entails, because I only hear half of it, and when I ask follow-up questions the answers start looking like turtles all the way down.

Complete Liberty Podcast

Give it a listen. Maybe it makes more sense if you hear the whole thing, and then you can explain it to me. Maybe I am just holding a grudge because they have ignored my suggestions for how to organize their topics and prettify the home page. Of course, I have ignored their invitation to be a guest naysayer, so tit for tit, as the expression goes. And I have enough to match both of them. Instead, I packed for the evening like I would for an airplane trip, and I have three passports, my novel, my iPod, and a glass of water.

So, yeah, it’s a slow night. And I’m not even drinking through it. A shame, really. There’s some good grocery store wine in the kitchen: Lindeman’s Bin 50 Shiraz.

It’s a product of Australia. And I like it a lot, but I’m really more thirsty than anything, and I am definitely not hungry. We ordered in tonight–very naughty–but I was again in the position of spending all morning messing up the kitchen and dining room and spending all afternoon cleaning it up and I just didn’t want to cook and mess it up again, especially if I would have to leave the dishes because, you know, it’s…

Podcast Night

…and they would face me in the morning, unless I stayed up late tonight to do them after. Which I wouldn’t really mind so much, if I had something to watch on the computer, but I just ran through the first season of Mad Men and I just finished the first season of Babylon 5 and I am watching Battlestar Galactica with Husband and wouldn’t want to get ahead of him. Plus I’d be sleepy, so pizza it was!

The Papa John’s pizza whole wheat crust was pretty good–I’d get it again. It knocked 10 calories off each slice, but with sausage with mushrooms and tomatoes, a slice is still 7 points. I’m only one in the hole for the day, four points for the week so far, which is good, because we are going out for Mexican food tomorrow. Friends are in town for Comic-Con, which is an event that represents eight different personal hells for me but to which they travel annually. We’ll be eating at Emiliano’s (as we do annually) and they have excellent salsa, so I’ll be eating at least twenty chips. The margarita is a given, and because I will only allow myself one I will have to get a large one. I figure a delayed breakfast of a peanut butter sandwich (5 points) should keep me filled up until about 3:00 PM, at which point I can eat a snack bar or boil an egg. Dinner’s at 6:00 PM, and I’m sure I can have chips at the table right away. I’ll be fine.

But I am thirsty again just thinking about it. There is going to be a lot of salt in that meal.

Voices are rising–they are discussing the new California cell phone law, which is admittedly bad, but they’re cluttering it up with talk about correct principles and morality, and a quick aside to a picture of a pornographic cake. That conversation probably won’t make the final cut. And Samwise Gamgee, my own personal Ceiling Cat, is bugging me for petting. I can’t type at the crappy computer and pay him the necessary homage, so I better sign off.

Friends, try to stay healthy, physical fitness, don’t want to catch no disease. Try to be careful, don’t take no chances, you better watch what you say.

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