UGA is playing at home today against Auburn... for Homecoming.

Auburn.

For Homecoming.

That really should excite me... but it doesn't. I just can't make myself care enough to spend a whole day driving to Athens and back for a sunburn.

Last year, I was in a funk in October and still had fun at the Kentucky game. So maybe I should go. Maybe I would have fun. But I just cannot imagine that this game ends up entertaining.

It's not you Bulldogs; it's me. Okay, after the last few weeks, maybe it is a little bit you. But don't take it personally. It is mostly me.

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Hour three of trying to replace a dishwasher (hour one of guy grinding stumps just outside the kitchen door), and the latest problem is the new dishwasher is too short to reach the countertop so I have to find some wood to put under the feet to raise it up and to do that I need to pull it back out of the recess but first I have to turn off the water at the street again because the under-cabinet waterline spigot won't fully close but only after I start turning off the master water line at the street do I realize that since yesterday a colony of fire ants has taken residence and because of mud in the hole the master water line won't fully turn off...

So now I'm sitting on the floor in the kitchen struggling not to scratch the ant bites and poison ivy (courtesy of my dogs) on my arms as I contemplate burning the house down.

Does this shit happen to other people?

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I type this at 1:28 AM with live weather coverage on WXIA TV telling me that Hurricane Helene is currently a category 2 storm as it passes over Valdosta headed north at about 20 miles per hour. There is minimal wind outside, but based on what I'm seeing, I expect it to pick up soon. That will no doubt bring trouble.

I've mentioned before that my neighborhood has power issues. Case in point, last night, after taking over 3 inches of rain totally unrelated to the hurricane, our power and cable went out. That's right, we were without power for 8 hours the day before a hurricane hit us. There's no telling what the state of our power grid will be by the time you read this.

I write this only to document a novel situation as I wait for the lights to go out again. I don't recall the last time a hurricane passed over Atlanta. I was certainly a Decatur resident when Opal moved through the city in 1995, but I don't remember that storm itself. That might have been the night that a limb fell through the windshield of my station wagon while I was at my girlfriend's apartment in Stone Mountain, but maybe not.

I have friends who remember being trapped in the Pink Pony, a "gentlemen's club," for 24 hours in what is now the city of Brookhaven. Their memories of Opal are much more vivid than mine. (I can only imagine the horrors. I met another friend of mine at The Pony for dinner one night, and a stripper rubbed herself all over my glasses, leaving me blind for the rest of the meal. I'm still irritated about that.)

Opal was 3 decades ago. In 2055, should I live that long, will I remember Helene? I sure hope not. That would mean that things go poorly. No one remembers mundanities. Just strippers.

UPDATE 1:50 PM: Nothing to see here. Helene wandered farther east than expected. Our biggest wind gust has been 11 MPH, and the power never even flickered.

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"LIMITED EDITION! UGA BOBBLEHEAD SERIES," yells the headline in my inbox. The picture of 3 bulldog bobbleheads is accompanied by the number $300, which seems a bit expensive for three bobbleheads. The good news is that the fine print assures me that if I buy a whole bundle of 11, I can save $30!

That email, from "Georgia Athletics" (which spends most of its time begging for more money) links to the website for the National Bobblehead Hall of Fame*, and, as it turns out, they aren't offering me a bundle of 11 of the same bobblehead, but 11 different bobbleheads, one for each of the 11 Uga bulldog mascots of the Georgia football team over the past 70 years. Oops. I probably should have realized that. Maybe my reading comprehension skills could use some polishing.

That breaks down to buying 10 bobbleheads for $30 each and getting one free. That's not the worst deal, but does anyone really need 11 bobbleheads of white bulldogs wearing read sweaters? Only a couple of the Ugas are differentiable at a glance: Uga IX, "Russ," has a brown ear and rump, and Ugas I and II had narrower faces. And how much demand is there for a bobblehead of Uga VIII, who I'm sure was a great dog but didn't survive a whole football season before dying of cancer?

I'm inclined to ask "who really needs bobblehead dolls, anyway?" But I'll restrain myself. I've never kvetched about PEZ dispensers (because I like them), so I'm in no position to rain on the parade of any UGA fan who wants an entire kennel of nodding Ugas. It's your $300, spend it however you want to.

Besides, not bitching about bobbleheads frees up my time for complaining about my neighbors who have already set out their Halloween decorations six weeks early. Apparently, Halloween is no longer a holiday; it's a whole season! Arrrrgh!

*Hall of Fame and Museum, specifically "a one-of-a-kind museum with the world’s largest collection of bobbleheads from all genres and periods" with a mission statement that "seeks to provide access to the world’s largest collection of Bobbleheads, to advance an understanding of the historical role Bobbleheads play in American culture, and to celebrate the fun and quirky side of collecting." And also, it seems, to sell, sell, sell. Want bobblehead dolls of the Golden Girls, a jackalope, or Rio de Janeiro's Christ the Redeemer statue? They've got 'em!

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McFarlane Toys recently announced a new line of Batman cowl replicas. The "replica" in the name is important, because these cowls have never been worn by the actual Batman.

My topmost bookshelf currently showcases a Golden Age Superman statue, a battery-powered Star Trek TOS starship Enterprise, a Judge Dredd badge with my name on it, V,I,N,cent, Captain Carrot, and Booster Gold inaction figures and a life-size Batman Begins Halloween pail. The red-headed stepchild there is the Halloween pail. I'm not a big fan of the Batman Begins version of Batman, and it would be nice to replace the piercing gaze of that blue-eyed plastic pail with something less horrifying.

The new McFarlane cowls represent the 1966 television Batman, the 1989 movie Batman, and the 1993 comic book Batman. I like the idea of them, but I cannot bring myself to order one. For one thing, as I mentioned, they are stiff plastic replicas. More importantly, they are only 1:3 scale.

As everyone knows, the average American's head is about 9.5 inches high. (Batman is slightly larger than the average American, so assume his head is closer to 10 inches tall, not counting the pointy ears.) That means that a 1:3 scale cowl would only fit a 3-inch tall head! The packaging says they're about 7 inches tall with stand and pointy ears. If I put a 3-inch hood on my shelf, I'm worried it won't look so much like a Batman tribute as something I stole it from a racist Smurf.

So for the time being, I guess I'm sticking with plastic Christian Bale. On the bright side, his head can hold several bags of Halloween candy, and that's not nothing.

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Mom has been working to prepare her residential rental property for new tenants, and that means overhauling the upstairs bathtub. The previous tenant used it for dying wool, and now the formerly white tub is very much not white. The tub is in such bad shape that she would probably consider replacing it if not for the fact that it is nearly a century old, made of cast iron, weighs a ton, and will never fit down the stairs. So instead of replacing it, I am resurfacing it. Or at least, I'm supposed to.

This is not a horror story about how an enamel paint job went awry. No, I haven't gotten to that step yet. This is a story about how a bathtub full of water ended up coming through the kitchen ceiling.

Step one in resurfacing the tub requires clearing away the old caulk and scouring the tub clean prior to sanding the entire surface. All of that went reasonably well. It was even surprisingly easy to remove the metal drain and overflow plate considering the tub's age and mistreatment. The problem was that all the water I poured in to rinse out the scouring cleanser somehow missed the drain pipe and instead flowed directly down the interior wall to emerge through the overhead light fixture in the kitchen below. (I wish I could show you a picture here, but I was too panicked by my discovery of the waterfall flowing from the active light fixture to take the time to grab my phone for a selfie.)

My working theory is that too much water pressure dislodged the drain pipe enough that much of the waste water overflowed the crack between pipe and tub. But given that on disassembly for cleaning, the kitchen's florescent light fixture contained what can only be called a "rust puddle," it sure looks like this leak has been dripping for a while. Considering how well the last tenant treated the tub, maybe in this specific case, it's not all my fault?

The silver lining to this otherwise very unwelcome rain cloud is that after a good mopping with every spare towel I could borrow from my aunt who lives nearby, the kitchen floor is now cleaner than it has been in ages. The next tenant might be cooking in the dark, but at least the floor is spotless!

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When I went in to my Local Comic Shop yesterday to pick up Absolute Power #3 (specifically Cover A by Dan Mora, where Batman does his best impression of Wolverine from the 1988 Todd McFarlane cover of The Incredible Hulk #340), the Guy Behind the Counter asked if I was also going to pick up Batman #152 (specifically Cover F by Nicola Scott recreating the iconic 1986 Frank Miller Dark Knight Returns #1 cover pose with Adam West's Batman from the 1966 television show).

I can hear you already. "Nope. That's too geeky for me. I'm out of here," you say. I totally get where you're coming from. You're not wrong. Godspeed to you, sir or ma'am. In point of fact, this is not the blog post that I sat down to write. Even I find myself gobsmacked by how much detail was necessary in that first paragraph just to get in the door of this particular rabbit hole. Maybe I have been reading comic books too long.

Not so long ago (in astronomical time), People In The Know used to point to high issue numbers as the unclearable hurdle turning away new comic book readers. Now every series starts over with a "Brand New Number One Issue!" every few months. But what does it say about comic book culture that even these new, lower number issues are impenetrably obtuse because of a fire hose of variant covers overtly referencing, literally, sixty years of comic book ephemera? Is there a hobby out there somewhere that doesn't wear its accumulated detritus as a badge of honor? If yes, I may be in the market for another pastime.

Anyway. The point here is that no, I did not buy Batman #152 Cover F. Its cover is printed on card stock, which, while being a sturdier paper than a standard cover (which these days is the same paper as is used for the interior pages), is $1 more expensive than the base cover price ($4.99 for a 22-page story) which is too rich for my blood in no small part because I remember when 48 pages of comics printed on newsprint cost less than a dollar.

Yes, I have definitely been reading comic books too long.

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*Note to self: Today was a very good day. It so rarely occurs to me in the moment that I'm having a "good time," so I think it is probably important to make note when it does. I woke up to watch UGA win, then gave haircuts to both Henry and Louis, then all three of us rode the Jeep over to Dad's to play with Cece, then I had Chinese takeout (vegetable lo mein and white rice) and played a video game (Borderlands 3) with an online friend (Brian) and watched even more football until the wee hours of the morning. I enjoyed all of those activities, many of which I partake in regularly, but football season is here now and football is just the best.

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One of the best parts of the annual Little League World Series on ESPN is seeing how the latest crop of 10- to 12-year-olds answer the questionnaire about their likes and dislikes. I've never played organized baseball, but because I'm an egotist, I wonder how I would answer those questions if I was in their place, by which I mean how would I have answered these questions when I was 12... in 1987. Let's find out together!

1. What is your favorite MLB team?
Atlanta Braves. (Yes, they were the local team, but I actually liked pro baseball in 1987. I went to games a few times a year until the strike of 1994, which completely killed any desire I had to watch MLB games. I haven't been back since. I'm not mad about it anymore; I've moved on to just not caring.)

2. Who is your favorite MLB player or non-MLB athlete?
Bruce Benedict, catcher, Atlanta Braves (because when the Fulton County Stadium announcer called his name, the crowd howled "Bruuuuuuuuuuuce!").

3. What is your favorite movie?
Star Wars. (Don't ask which one. Everyone knows there's only one Star Wars.)

4. What is your favorite television show?
Bionic Six. (You have probably never heard of Bionic Six. It wasn't even popular in my school at the time. But I still occasionally use Rock-1's catchphrase: "So-LAR!")

5. Who is your favorite actor?
Han Solo I mean, Harrison Ford. (Note: This was almost Michael J. Fox because Family Ties and Back to the Future, but it was not because Teen Wolf. And Han Solo was also Indiana Jones, so he wins.)

6. Who is your favorite artist?
"Weird Al" Yankovic. (It might still be "Weird Al" Yankovic.)

7. Who is the person you'd most like to meet?
"Weird Al" Yankovic. (It is definitely still "Weird Al" Yankovic.)

8. What is your favorite food?
The french fries that came with a Chili's Oldtimer. (The Chili's on Memorial Drive in Stone Mountain is where my parents would take me on special occasions, like birthdays. The chain is a shadow of its former shadow, but back in the day, their french fries and chocolate shakes were *amazing*.)

9. What is your favorite animal?
I've always really liked dogs, but I don't know that's what I would have said in 1987. My family had a Scottish Terrier named Jammie back then. Jammie was great. So let's just say I would have said dogs.

10. What is your favorite emoji?
The only emoji that existed in 1987 was a smiley face, so even though I hated it, I guess... smiley face?

11. What is your dream job?
Architect. (Given that I didn't know much about construction, I suspect that was largely due to Hollywood using "architect" as shorthand for someone who had a job that was creative, lucrative, and allowed plenty of free time. That "dream" would die when I ran into high school calculus.)

12. What is your favorite hobby?
Collecting comic books. (Some things never change.)

13. What is your favorite school subject?
By far, my favorite subject was whatever we were doing in my "gifted" class, which was essentially a period of structured creativity practice, like math games and creative writing. (Do they not have gifted classes in schools outside Georgia? None of these modern Little Leaguers ever answer "gifted class." Although, come to think of it, none of us were great athletes, either.)

14. Do you have a special talent?
Drawing. (I suppose that's been supplanted by "sarcasm." Although, come to think of it, I always had a bit of a smart mouth. At my 7th grade graduation, when my elementary school principal told the assembled cafetorium that my class was all such good well behaved kids, he made a point of looking me in the eye when he appended "most of you." So maybe always "sarcasm.")

15. What would you do if you win the lottery?
Honestly, I have no idea how I would have answered this In 1987. The kids often like to say they'd buy cars, but I was never really a car guy. Money was... an issue between my parents (who wouldn't divorce until 1990), so I probably just would have given it to them. After I bought a bunch of comic books, of course.

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My Mother's sister has chided me for not posting often enough. She says she reads my blog when she wakes up in the middle of the night. She has asked for more really long posts so that her eyes will get extra tired and close themselves. Wriphe.com: Boring People to Sleep Since 2002!®

So let's see, what things have I encountered recently that can be used as soporific fodder?

• I'm already suffering from Olympics withdrawal. I love the Olympics. I watch all I can, and I'm always sad to see them go on hiatus. While I hate the corporate and political greed that always accompanies them, that's just a sideshow for the main event: athletes from all over the world competing for little blocks of electroplated precious metals. I love the bonhomie between athletes and especially their ability to take a loss — essentially the destruction of their lifelong dreams — gracefully. (Speaking as a lifelong Miami Dolphins fan, I firmly believe learning to lose is the single most important thing in any sport.) Of course, I like seeing happy winners, too. The Olympics are our biannual reminder that people are what is really important in this life. Life could be a paradise if we'd just let it.

• “Bon-hommy,” went on Eeyore gloomily. “French word meaning bonhommy,” he explained. “I’m not complaining, but There It Is.” †

• The notifications on my telephone stopped working over the weekend, so no sounds when I get texts or phone calls. Not that I get a lot of phone calls. But if you call and I don't answer, now I can say that I didn't hear it without lying. (It's a software problem, not a hardware problem. For example, I can still watch YouTube videos. My notification sound effect is the sound of a Star Trek [TOS] communicator incoming call chirp, but my ringtone is a default system sound, and neither works. I have the phone turned off for recharge and will turn it back on tomorrow in the hopes that it just needs a good nap to get things sorted out. That sometimes works for me.)

• Update: It's working again. Which means that if I don't answer your call, I'm probably ignoring you on purpose again.

• Update Update: It's not working again. Which means it's time for me to buy a new phone. (This Google Pixel 7 lasted just a year and a half. I bought it because it was cheaper than a Samsung Galaxy, and, well, you get what you pay for.)

• If you're looking to go to sleep, do not click on this YouTube link. That's the song I put in my CD player and turned up REAL LOUD while I was dressing (because I had started singing it in the shower). There's a reason that I have never used Huey Lewis and the News in my "new years" posts: their lyrics are actually good. Ok, to be perfectly honest, the song I started singing in the shower was Lindsey Buckingham's Time Bomb Town, which is the second song on the Back to the Future soundtrack album. You know the one: "There must be about a million / single ways to go down." I'm sure you recognize it as the song playing on the clock radio when Marty wakes up in bed in 1985 (the first time). Once I realized what I was singing, my brain automatically clicked over to "Please don't drive 88 / Don't wanna be late again." Which, of course, I'm sure you recognize as the song playing on the clock radio when Marty wakes up in bed in 1985 (the second time). And that's why I buy soundtrack albums: so I can wash out the earworms I pick up in the shower.

Are you asleep yet, Kelley? If not, I can start talking about my dreams. Nothing is more boring than someone else's dreams. I had one recently where I worked up the nerve to ask Natalie Portman out on a date... and she said yes! (Although I got the impression it was a pity date.) We went out for coffee.

† Milne, A. A. "Chapter VI, In Which Eeyore Has a Birthday and Gets Two Presents," in Winnie-The-Pooh, pg. 72, E.P. Dutton & Company [New York], 1926

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