I’m going to be a marshal in the great Nevada Day parade this Saturday.

It’s the only parade I know of where the cub scouts and the shriners are followed up by the local whore house. I’m serious.

This should be interesting.

The other night some guy ran into us. We’re both ok- we actually hardly felt it. Unfortunately for him, though, he doesn’t own a jeep.

Reno has to qualify for “totally illogical and life-threatening cross-walk capital.” On average, I believe 6 people die every day here in crosswalk related accidents. The problem is, slot-machine patrons can’t be bothered with the little push-button style traffic lights, so about every 50 feet there’s a cross-walk with nothing more than a little bitty sign to warn drivers. On a 40 mph street.

Nice.

So you’re chugging along on your way to Wal-Mart for a new plastic garbage can because your wife has detected some mystery smell on the old one that won’t wash off, and even though you have no idea what she’s talking about it wasn’t worth an argument and you’re sure there’s other stuff you need to get and HOLY CRAP THERES A FAMILY OF LEMMINGS! You slam on the brakes.

Well the poor dude behind me didn’t notice and I hear “SCREEAAACH… dnk.” He swerves off wildly. We both park and do the ancient ritual known as “the fender bender dance of the damage inspection and trading insurance information.” We execute it beautifully. His car looks inoperable, while mine has little more than a cracked light.

Later I asked my Cherokee if it was totally necessary to bitchslap his car like that. He reminded me that before him I used to drive a teal-blue Geo Storm and I best keep my pretty mouth shut. Touche.

I read this over at Sean Bonner’s site about this voting registration outfit out here that trashed the forms people filled out!

That freaked me out since I registered with some dude outside Best Buy and still haven’t gotten a voting card in the mail. They were tossing the forms where people registered as Democrats. Well I was spared. I looked up my status and I’m in. No matter how I vote I’m still a registered Repulican.

Of course the way this election is shaping up I’m starting to think I’d be better off voting for my baby. She won’t be born yet, but I’d feel a lot safer with her at the helm than Bush or Kerry. Bonner said his dog had political aspirations too- I’m thinking they could team up and run on some sort of “youthful idealism meets loyalty” platform. Low cost biscuits and formula from Canada, pretection of babysitting jobs in the states, that sort of thing.

Of course they’d only run if there’s enough interest in the ticket. Hint hint. In the comments. hint.

We went to see Sting last night. He was playing with that delightful she-male from the Eurythmics, Annie Lennox, and also guitarist Dominic Miller. If you’re ever in the Sacramento area and someone says “let’s go see a show at the sleep train amphitheatre,” please kill them. In the face. To get there, you must travel through nine towns sets for Deliverance II, bumper-to-bumper, all the while fending off the locals.

It was worth it though. I love Sting in an almost pathetic way. If I were to take up stalking I’d stalk Sting. Not at first, though. I’d have to work up to him. Consider the following conversation that took place betwixt Heidi and me this week. Since pregnancy has turned her body temperature to that of a space shuttle on re-entry, I haven’t been as snuggly lately- which lead to a dream where I left her. Here we were talking about it.

Heidi: That dream sucked. You said I was boring and left me.
Ed: Bunny bear, you never have to worry about that.
Heidi: I know.
Ed: I’d leave you for Jason long before I’d ever leave you for a girl.
Heidi: Pffft! That’s a relief.
Heidi: What about Sting?
Ed: Hmmm… Come on, honey. Don’t make me choose between you. That’s not fair.

Don’t look at me that way. The man just oozes cool. I bet when he spits a loogies they turn into toys for orphans when they hit the ground. Yeah. That cool.

He did a great set. I got to hear “Fragile”, “A Thousand Years” and “Englishman in New York” live, so now that meteor can hit me.

Well, anyone who made bets on the sex of baby Adkins- your money is safe. Apparently the little tyke is modest; during the ultrasound yesterday he/she was bound and determined to hide its cash and prizes.

If anyone knows any good androgynous names other than Pat, Chris or K.D. please feel free to share.

*** Update ***
OK. Soooooo the Dr. couldn’t make out anything conclusive, but she did say that she was 80% sure its a girl. Apparently she got a hint when the baby did like a peekaboo deal for a second. Heidi has been telling me the whole time its going to be a girl, so she made me clear this up.

It happened yesterday. I go through it occasionally and every time it’s like an early morning present. I wake up disoriented- probably from some overly-imaginative dream cut short, and I can’t figure out why, if I’m an under cover CIA agent or a midget circus clown or a repo-man from the future, why am I waking up in this house?

Then I realize- I’m not alone.

I pull back the corner of the sheet a bit and marvel at what lies next to me. She’s beautiful. Amazing. Sleeping peacefully is this gorgeous princess. Why is a circus midget in bed with a princess?

In the wee hours of the morning I’m just not ready to make it add up. I sit in bewilderment. It makes no sense, but still she lies there. What will she expect when she wakes? Soon she’ll roll over and stretch and her delicate eyelids will flutter open. Will her hint of a smile turn to a gaping scream when she sees me, an overweight Repo-Man from one of a thousand possible apocalyptic futures?

How did I end up here? How did my arm end up around her? She smells like flowers.

Then reality quits doing that purple cloud-swirl bit from Weird Science. It hits me. She’s my wife. This precious beauty is my wifey. My Princess Bunny-Bear. I am her husband.

Holy crap on a cracker. Wow. Yes!

*I win.*

Somehow, at some point before we fell asleep last night, I convinced her to marry me and now she’s stuck with me. “How did you seal that deal, man?”

“I dunno.”

Hold up- so then I’m not a CIA agent. I can deal with that.

Happy 2nd Anniversary, Precious.

As you may have noticed, there’s been a bit of a dry-spell here at E&H.com.

I just need a minute to collect my thoughts. It’s been quite a whirlwind here. I haven’t run out of things to say, now. Not to worry on that one. I actually have too much to talk about. Our regular snarkiness will return by monday. Perhaps sooner if I get a minute.

Heidi got a body wave the other day. That’s like a perm, guys, but less curly. Here’s the scene later when we’re taking a nap or something.

Heidi: My hair smells nasty, doesn’t it.
Ed: Nah, I’ve been kind of immunized.
Heidi: Eh?
Ed: I had a sister and I gre up in the 80’s.
Heidi: Ahhhh.
Ed: Perms were like a daily occurance.
Heidi: But that was twenty years ago.
Ed: (eyes widen, stares at ceiling)
Ed: Holy crap.

Ed: It’s funny. I’m still kind of discovering my self with the blog, you know? Like, it’s interesting how I’m a different person on the blog lately. More Cynical. It’s like you get to choose what part of you people see.
Heidi: Oh no, that’s you, definitely. That’s the real you. Cynical.
Ed: Yeah.
Heidi: You just do a little better job controlling it in front of people.
Ed: Yeah. I guess I’m a jerk.
Heidi: Deep down.
Ed: Thanks.
Heidi: But you’re sweet too.
Ed: A sweet jerk.
Heidi: My sweet jerk.
Ed: I’ll take that.

For the last couple weeks it’s been the same thing. Each night, just as I’m about to drift away to slumber, I imagine how easy it would be for someone to crash through the front window, storm into our room and bludgeon us to pieces before I knew what was going on.

That has ruined my sleep. Serious. I wake up three or four times a night at least- ready to throw down with imaginary intruders. I’ve been walking around like a grumpy zombie (as opposed to the chipper ones).

But last night was my first night of peace. I slept like a log. You have no idea how good I feel today.

Man we had a blast last night. Like I said, the venue is cozy and very personable. If you go to the floor you’re basically right next to whoever is performing. All that seems to affect the artists too- they play like they’re in front of a bunch of buddies- you really got the sence Liz and her band were playing a party at your house or something.

Just check the pictures.

Jerz has a great revue of the show and some great pics as well. He brought his friends Ethan and Colleen who were really cool peeps. Afterwards we had some beers and hung out. I took my first shot at shuffleboard- that rocks.

BTW, If you want any of my pics in super-hi-res mode, just hit up this folder.

… and then there was that time I thought I was dying.

My buddy Rudy used to bring all kinds of cherries over to my place when we were in college. He was, you might say, our cherry connection. Red, yellow- he had you totally hooked up in the cherry dept. It was crazy. He claimed that his parrents had tons of cherry trees and there was a little river fo cherry juice on their property because they couldn’t pick them fast enough.

I love cherries.

I’d sit in the living room of our dorm suite and eat tons of them. Almost every day he brought them in these gallon buckets and I would tackle at least half of one in each sitting. Can you imagine a seemingly endless supply of cherries?!?

Well one day my friends stopped by while I was playing playstation and one of them gasped at the enormous mound of cherry pits. “Holy crap- did you eat all of those?”

“Uhhhh, yeah. I still have plenty if you want some.” Another pit gets spit on the pile while I perfect my aim on Doom2.

“Don’t you know what that much fruit does to your system? You must be like a constant factory of diarrhea!”

“OMG. You are so awesome,” I said. “I was dead-sure I had Ebola.”

You know those dreams that actually affect your mood when you wake up?

I’ve talked to other couples who have those- you have a bizarre dream where your spouse does something horrible and you wake up mad at them? I woke up still trying to blame Heidi for something in my dream last night.

In the dream we were moving out of an apartment or something. Or maybe I was mowing the lawn. Either way, both of my hands were occupied. Heidi was out of town in like New York or something and while there she bought a lottery ticket.

She gets back and I’m still all busy. Upon checking the ticket, though, she finds out that we’ve won 35 million dollars.

What?

Yeah. 35 million. Dolla dolla bill ya’ll. We freak out. First I’m like, NO MORE STUDENT LOANS. Then we start thinking about all that this means and it really sinks in. It’s one of those real-life-emotions dreams that feels all real.

But wait- where’s the ticket?

You see, since I was all busy when Heidi came home and my hands as I said were ocupado, Heidi placed whatever she was talking about in my teeth and I clamped down on it expecting to check it out when I had a free hand.

But when I’m concentrating I chew. Toothpicks, straws, my tongue, whatever. And by the time that I realized something might be up, whatever was in my mouth was now pulp. I spit it out and was all, “It can’t be- she wouldn’t- it’s not… Honey?!?”

Now she’s all “You chewed up the ticket?” and I’m all “You put the Ticket in my mouth?” It’s a mess.

We tried to redeem the mound of ticket pulp, but they refused. And like I said, the dream ended and I was frustrated and depressed. How often do you lose 35 million dollars before you even wake up?

We’re cool now though. We’ve both decided any winning lottery tickets in the house get redeemed before ever chewing on them.

First Coachella, now Lollapolooza.

My best friend form Highschool, Rob, and his wife Angela are coming out here to go with us in July. We can’t wait. It goes without saying that the Sugars will be there, since it’s in their backyard.

Again it’s going to be freakin incredible. There’s a little overlap from the last show, but who cares.

I remeber the first Lolopalooza I went to- it was the one with Pearl Jam, Sound Garden, Ice Cube, The Chilli Peppers, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Lush, Ministry and I don’t remember who else. I was floored.

I went again a few years later for the Beastie Boys, etc., but it was fading pretty quick. It’s cool to see them take a lesson from Coachella and the other festivals and bring it back to the Indie-Rock bands who fly under MTV’s radar.

I think the best festival I’ve ever been to was the HFStival in DC back in like ‘92. I got to see TMBG, Catherine Wheel, Wolfgang Press, Too Much Joy, The Ocean Blue, The Charltons UK, and the Soup Dragons. That was incredible. The Soup Dragons headlined and at the end of their set this guy bungee jumped out of a hot air balloon durring “I’m Free” and we all went nuts. There were 30,000 people there having a blast all day. It only cost 7 bucks.

Me: sup yo
Him: hey there
Me: how goes it
Him: you know that pic i have of you on my site?
Me: yeah
Him: most people either say one of 2 things
Me: uh oh
Him: 1. WHo took that picture of you?
Me: ha
Him: 2. Is that Tom Green?
Him: funny huh
Me: HAHAHA
Me: thats great
Him: they say the tom green thing more often
Me: figures
Me: They should be saying “who is that sexy hunk of man-meat and how did you get him in your car?”
Him: yeah they should.
Him: but they dont.

I’ve been looking up old highschool aquaintences lately.

It’s funny. With all the torture highschool was, I kind of enjoyed it. What’s more, I really find myself hoping people have done well. I know many people don’t want to go home for their reunion, but I feel compelled to.

Those people shared four years of my life. It’s like there’s a little of me trapped there- getting together with them always lets a little of it escape.

I’ve only been back a few times in the last ten years, and when I do our converations always go back to all the stupid crap I did back then. I was the idiot-mouth. I’d say anything anytime anywhere. Large groups loved it. Individuals didn’t so much, but it’s understandable. Dang I’m glad I din’t waste a minute.

Anyway, it’s been cool to see where people are now. The girl I used to make run out of class crying is now an editor for businessweek. The nerdy one we called Doogie Houser is traveling the world studying marine biology. One buddy of mine just climbed a mountain in Alaska- ever since HS ended he’s been doing crap like that- all over the place. (Brett and Andrew are the latest- you guys seem to be having a blast.

Pretty much everyone I’ve found is happy doing their own thing. Not all, but all the ones I feel like rooting for, and that’s pretty cool.

The following story takes place Thursday night from 7:00 pm to 10:45 pm.

I have been cleared of all charges.

Thursday night I was working on a few papers I have to turn in as the semester draws to a close. As I’m typing away at the laptop, Heidi informs me that she’s going to the store or something, and wants to know if I need anything I guess. I can’t tell completely since my attention span takes a while to engage once I’m in “the zone” with my homework.

I do catch something though. Something something the scarf something. I think she wants me to check on something periodically.

Heidi has recently begun dyeing silk scarves. It’s something she’s picked up at work, and she teaches it to her old people. She’s darn good at it too. The woman looks like a movie star whenever she wears a scarf- very golden age Hollywood. Drives me nuts.

So she’s made a scarf and she’s going to give it to her mother for mother’s day. Sweet. Last thing she needs to do is set the dye by steaming it, so she’s set it up in a pot in the kitchen and she just needs me to check on it once an hour or so.

OK.

A few hours later I’m typing and my laptop begins to smell. Sweet. I must be working so hard that the laptop is about to have a meltdown. I save my work and keep typing. If that’s true I want it to go full nuclear under the weight of my Information Systems case study masterpiece. Come on baby.

Then it hits me. Wait. Smokey smell… smoke… burning. What does that make me think of? Heat. There’s something hot. If it’s not the laptop, then what else could it be? Hot, heat, burn… smoke… OH HOLY MOTHER OF CRAP.

I spin out of my seat and dart down the hall. The smell increases exponentially until I reach the epicenter- the kitchen. Here the smell of a thousand tire fires has camped out on the stove. This can’t be good. It’s bound to have some sort of effect on the steaming process.

I lift the lid. Poof. Black billows of smoke burp forth and I dodge them as they head for the ceiling. Peaking through the puffs I see the scarf.

No I see a thing. You know those shows about the aftermath of Pompeii? The ones where they show the charred remains of those who decided to flee too late? Yeah. One got in my pot.

I call Heidi and beg forgiveness, and after she stops crying she is more than willing. Turns out the stove is the culprit. Last time, she says, it never got that hot. It’s been inconsistent lately, going from warm to magma without warning and the evidence pointed to another such episode.

So Heidi’s Mom, I’m sorry. She had this really beautiful thing to send you and now it’s a crumbly blackened nasty thing. Not my fault tho. Not my fault.

Happy Mother’s day.

Coachella was in-freakin-credible. Jason sucessfully sold me on that emo crap and my faith is renewed in Indie-Rock.

I’m way, way too drained to post extensively about it yet, but suffice it to say, I stood in the presence of The Pixies, The Cure, Radiohead, the Flaming (Kerry ad) Lips, and Beck. I will be forever changed.

More substantial reporting to follow as soon as I recover from a weekend that felt like hell but sounded like Heaven.

By the time anyone reads this, Jason and I will be on the road to Indio California for two fun-filled days of more bands than anyone was ever intended to hear in one day.

Coachella.

I’ll try to post some stuff while we’re there, but I promise nothing.

Have a great weekend ya’ll and shoot any comment spammers if they get near the site.

Four more days till we drive out to the Coachella music festival. Drool over the lineup for a minute. The Cure, The Pixies, Radiohead… hello. My boys Wilco had to back out over a bout with pills, but oh well.

I soooo can’t wait. Camping with my best friend at perhaps the phattest concert I’ve ever been to. Good times. Of course there will be updates from teh concert too. Do contain your excitement.