It's Time to Sing the Royal Wedding Song
Friday, Apr. 13, 2007 at 8:07 a.m.
On This Day in 1970, 56 hours and 205,000 miles from planet Earth, the crew aboard Apollo 13 hears "a pretty loud bang" when oxygen tank number two spontaneously explodes. Astronaut Jack Swigert informs Mission Control in Houston: "Hey, we've got a problem here." Miraculously, the crew manages to return home in their crippled spacecraft.
A note to people out there who think movies are reality: Tom Hanks is not Jack Swigert. However, I cannot comment of the validity of the moon landing because . . . well, I wasn�t there. Seems like a pretty stinking expensive hoax to pull off, though.
Anyway. Do you honestly think that all Jack said was, "Hey, we've got a problem here"? Don�t you think that it was peppered quite liberally with shit, holy fuck, and perhaps even a cocksucking son of a bitch or two? We�re talking astronauts here, not saints nor seraphim. Although seraphim might have been helpful since they do have seven pairs of wings, but then on the other hand, wings won�t help you much in zero atmosphere. Thank goodness for good old-fashioned physics.
For once in a long while, I don�t have to work this weekend, and my only obligation is to usher a production of The Nerd at the Tempe Little Theatre. Hubster and I then get to see the show for free, which will be fun. I don�t know if I�ve mentioned it here yet, but I will be doing the scenic painting (and pretty much designing) the set for Hair, which gives me the jibblies because I haven�t done anything like this in four years. Four years it�s been since the scenic studio told me to get lost. I have ideas in my head but I have to get them out onto paper, and then the actual painting of the whole thing . . . eeek. I know it�ll look cool, but still. And then it�s a community theatre, and so I have to wrap my head around a budget of negative numbers, etc. Can poolagirl give me some moral support, please? Thanks!
I am here alone at work, that is, until the PABB decides to show up . . . if she will. I�ve seen here perhaps 10 minutes out of the past three weeks, with the exception of Wednesday, when she swooped down with a bucket of whup-ass for every minor and also non-existent infraction. I suppose she serves some purpose but no one seems to know what that is, other than the office snoop. The office seems to do just fine when she�s not here. In fact, better, because we�re not constantly living in fear that she and the can of whup-ass will appear out of nowhere.
Ah well. The bottom line is, it�s all good. It�s all right. And hopefully, everybody gets laid tonight.
Even this guy:
Have a good weekend, chickybabies!