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At last night’s Monty Python Society meeting, we briefly discussed our theory on “How to Write a Sketch”. It goes something like:

  1. Gather together to brainstorm on ideas.
  2. Consult the Big Book of Sexual Perversions.
  3. Add dick and fart jokes.

We’ve been kicking this theory around for some time now, ever since we realized that most (if not all) of our sketches dealt with one bizarre sexual practice or another. I’m just as guilty of this as any of the others. Last night, we performed a sketch I wrote a couple of years ago called “The New Spatula”. I think most of it is funny, but it is definitely in questionable taste. Once you’ve heard it, you may not want to eat mayonnaise for a very long time.

I swear I don’t try to write sketches or songs like this. And I have written perfectly normal sketches that don’t involve a single curse word or double entendre or man masturbating into coleslaw. Honestly. But, more often than not, the gross-out factor seems to come into play, especially with the songs. I am, for instance, currently trying to think of rhymes for “fellatio”.

Is it any wonder that I never tell my parents about the content of our shows or our CD?

I really hope this isn’t deja vu all over again. About this time last year, my cable modem inexplicably stopped working, and what ensued basically took away what little faith I still had left in AT&T. Cable modem accounts in this part of central Pennsylvania were sold off to Adelphia, which was fine when the dust had settled and everyone could admit that that’s what was happening. I’ve had no trouble whatsoever with Adelphia. When I moved across town this August, they didn’t even need to get into my apartment to set up my new account. They’ve always been courteous and helpful, which I definitely couldn’t say for all of the tech support I spoke to last December.

But the thing is, I’m typing this from my office. Because my cable modem inexplicably stopped working yesterday. I thought it might have been the weather that did it — I might have mentioned that it snowed earlier this week — and that it was a system-wide problem, so I decided to call tech support to find out. Their advice was basically “unplug it… okay, now plug it back in… okay, now did that do anything? no? well, we’ll send somebody out then… how’s a week from now sound?”

Which is okay. A little annoying, sure, but okay. I don’t know what else they could have told me. I came to the office because I sent myself an e-mail attachment yesterday before I left, and I can’t receive or open it at home. It’s the draft of this week’s Python Society newsletter, so I sort of need it before tomorrow. Since I’m here, I thought I would try calling Adelphia again. (I also thought I might be able to pay my bill online or over the phone since it’s overdue and I thought that might be the cause of the problem, but that’s another story.) I called their customer service number, and apparently it is a system-wide failure. At least, for my type of cable modem. The recorded voice assured me they are working on the problem.

Which is good. I just hope the problem is fixed sooner rather than later so I can cancel the appointment next Saturday. And I hope it doesn’t escalate into something like last year’s fiasco, when I had to scour message boards to find other disgruntled customers who knew what was going on better than I.

For the sake of completeness, let me just say that there is now a new state inspection sticker on the windshield of my car, valid until this time next year. Thus concludes this round in “Fred, the Home Game”.

What’s the use of snow if they won’t let you stay home?

I’m thinking about calling Honda to ask if I can come in tomorrow or Saturday to pick up my inspection sticker. Driving to work was complicated enough, what with the turning and the stopping and the moving and everything. It’s going to take me a good ten or fifteen minutes just to dig out my car and, from the look of things, at least half an hour just to get to the dealership. The local weather service is predicting three to four inches of accumulation, which, at this rate, seems like wishful thinking. There was already a couple of inches on the ground when I woke up this morning, and so far the snow doesn’t show any signs of slowing. I’ll have to see where things stand at around noon.

On the plus side, I’ve just been told that I can leave early this afternoon. On the down side, it wasn’t my boss who told me this. He’s out of town, preoccupied with a personal matter with family in Ohio, and I’m not even sure if he knows yet that it’s snowed here.