i love Sundays.
I Love Sundays.
I LOVE SUNDAYS!
Especially when Tony goes to his “church.” Who knows where it is in this new neighborhood. To be honest, I do not care today. I have my own rituals to attend to. This morning it is CBS Sunday Morning with Charles Osgood, This Week with George Stephonop-whatever, and that show with Tim Russert. I really enjoy my morning culture and politics. And coffee. The rest of the week it may be simply coffee, but on Sunday mornings I really seem to care about things.
Today I’m a bit concerned about soldiers. I have never sincerely appreciated someone who joins the army and such in today’s world. It always seemed a bit ridiculous to me, because potential (and unfortunately current) wars are something I can’t imagine being directly involved with. But people actually volunteer. And now they are dying. And somehow I’m culpable. So is Tony.
Which brings me to the importance and self-conciousness of blogging. Or at least the potential. How nice to have a forum, like Charles, Tim, and George. A powerful and widely accessed medium for comminication to the masses. Tony, I’m sure, is the only thing holding me back. And supporting me. And shagging me in the bathrooms of bars.
The point is simply that you should write to your local government representatives and tell them about Tony and I. Mention us to friends. Alert the media. Because Tony is vast, multitudinous. And I know how to type. Think of the possibilities.
Me and Mr. Jones 
Did you really go to church?Okay, Tony, I’ve admitted our connection. I am in fact the nefarious older sibling who stuck a toothpick in your hand then sent you a picture of my boobs just because the picture was so _pretty_.So now that I’ve outed our wondertwin status, don’t write anything that blows my cover, ‘kay? Like actual names of actual folk who actually had boners on the swimteam? Wasn’t the swim team both tedious and rockin’ at THE EXACT SAME TIME?
i’m not sure what team you were on, but mine was filled with blueberry bagels, non-macho naked boys in the shower, and portly Beth who swam the butterfly and called herself “butterball”. this is not how i would define tedious. rather, the stuff of legends…
Omigod I totally forgot about Butterball Beth.And I still don’t forgive you for what you said about the other Beth. Not that that’s her real name or anything. 🙂
Ooh, I had forgotten about blueberry bagels. I miss blueberry bagels. And B State was the only time I was ever really interested by the concept of gummi worms.I saw Beth in college, at a swim meet. No longer portly, though likely to become so again later in life. She worked at FAO Schwartz one summer, then dropped off the face of my world again.