Ah, heck, I'm a geek now

I've fought this whole technology thing for years - I still don't own a cell phone, but Wife makes sure to saddle me with her's when I'm let off my leash, I guess you can call it a husband whistle, just like a dog whistle - but finally, at the urging of Wife and some well-meaning friends (who I'm sure were just tired of listening to me babble like an 80-year-old on pudding day at the local rest home.) I started one of these blog thingies. Here's how my mind works. I decided Sunday that I'd do this, it's now Thursday, just before Thursday-nite TV with Wife - Survivor, Earl, Office, CSI ... the networks must love us - and I'm finally getting something down on screen.

There's so much to consider when starting a blog. So much pressure. I don't do well with pressure. I tend to dribble on my self (I ain't tellin' you where I dribble from) and my hair gets crazy, like Doc Brown in Back to the Future. Anyway, first I had to decide what I would talk about. Wife tells me to write everyday crap since I live in Arizona, next door to the in-laws (when I say next door, I mean next door! Yeah, yeah, just like "Everybody Loves Raymond." Save the jokes, we've heard them all), we have crazy neighbors, and as Wife says I sometimes have a unique perspective on things. I think she's full of doo doo (that's right, I use the word doo-doo in everday speech), but here I am doing what she told me to do. I also have a passion - Wife says it's more like a sickness - for baseball and football. Mainly the former over the latter, and more specifically the Los Angeles Dodgers and San Diego Chargers. So, there ya go, I have something else to prattle on about. I figure every Friday and Monday at least one post will be dedicated to one of those two organizations. The rest of the time will be me typing about life in the desert. Scintilating, I know.

Then, I had to come up with a name. I wanted it catchy, like an '80s one-hit-wonder song so you'd be singing the title at work until finally you admit you can't get it outta your head. That was more pressure, so of course more dribbling and since I came up with the name at the gym a puddle of drool pooled under me at the eliptical trainer so when I stepped off of my 45 minutes of hell I slipped in the salive swamp, twirled and crumpled to the floor, but the iPod did not become dislodged so I told the folks mired in their own exercise hells that the song in my head just makes me want to dance. They looked at me like I had a third nipple that spewed beer (mmm, beer) and kept gliding. Finally, I settled on what you see here. I had to explain the title to Wife, and she gave me the vote of approval after understanding my logic. Dodging Lightning - Dodgers and Chargers (or Bolts, as in lightning, if you will) - and the desert, well, if you know me you see how that fits.

Once that was done, I had to fill out blogger.com's CIAish questionairre (I didn't understand what they were asking me when trying to put this blog-thingy together - I won't be surprised if my posts come out with crazy characters only computers understand because they are plotting to take over the world, syntax errors [I don't know what a syntax is, I just hope it's not in my ass] and pictures of dogs humping [those might be my fault]) and decide what I want you to see on the screen. Since Wife won't let me post naked pics of Salma Hayek, I chose what you're looking at now. The sidebar is this weekend's project and maybe I'll get motivated and spruce the rest of the place up. Maybe I should just hire a cleaning service, 3 or 4 illegal immigrants to dust, wipe down the refrigerator and Windex the windows so to speak. It's Arizona, they're a dime dozen at at 6 a.m. in the Home Depot parking lot.

There you have it. That's how I was dragged into the 21st century. I'm not sure I like it or that I'm ready, but what the hell, I wasn't ready to have sex the first time either. I ain't got nothing better to do with my time. Drop in a comment, let me know what you think.

("Hey Wife, how do you sign off on this thing")