another gem

How is it that "Full House" and "I Dream of Jeannie" are still in re-runs, but not this?? I need my Nell.



That was the Season 1 Intro. Season 3, if you please...



I KNOW. Much better! They changed the lyrics, borrowed Herbie Hancock's synthesizer, and really snazzed things up.

In an age where kids have their first set of veneers by 3rd grade, it's cool look back and see Lara Jill Miller with real, old-fashioned metal braces. No ceramic brackets! No Invisalign! And that poor aquarium really got a workout, didn't it?? First the vacuum, then the juggling. I hope the fish negotiated a better contract. The best, of course, is when Nell strangles that lying bastard scale to death.

In the last couple seasons, they brought in a bunch of new characters, but it just wasn't the same ol "Gimme"! Well, I liked her best friend Addy cuz Nell was always tackling her and wrestling around with her for various reasons. The friend's name was Telma Hopkins in real life and every time I saw the credits, I thought her name was Thelma and they forgot the H. Joey Lawrence, however did NOTHING for me. A singing, tap-dancing, cheese-grinning boy with a Dorothy Hamill bowl haircut exactly like mine? Why waste my time when I could be drooling over Tommy, the blonde, sun-tanned stud from "Alice". Give ME a break.

sniffing out a criminal

I won't bore you with the details. Basically, a guy broke his leg on purpose so he could wear a cast made of cocaine and smuggle it through the airport. How would you like it if you snorted up one of the chunks that was wrapped around his smelly toes, or the bottom of his dry, flaky heel?

strange, yes. perfect, hardly

For some reason I was thinking about this goofy show today.



The opening credits to 80's sitcoms were the absolute best thing in the whole world. For every show, they actually hired someone to write a song that explained exactly what the show was about. Or they sing about how tough life is, but you can achieve anything anyway. So even though Balki and Cousin Larry (pronounced "Co-Sin Leddy") worked in a newspaper mailroom, they still had a pretty cool apartment and hot blonde girlfriends with large ta-ta's. (Balki's "America or Burst" sign was a premonition. His future lady-friend is practically bursting out of her shirt, so he got both of his wishes.) So anyway, the entire first minute of every show was filled with the elaborate song, actors' names and headshots, and all the hilarious, adorable, physical mishaps taken from clips of the show. Pie in the face, dancing a jig, dropping a wedding cake then blowing your bangs out of your eyes and shrugging your shoulders...and as Balki and Larry demonstrate above, the classic "getting lost in a revolving door" gag, which is only SLIGHTLY less predictable than the ol' "pregnant lady in an elevator" gag.

Sadly, the customized "theme song" has become a dying art...the stuff of legend! Speaking of legend, where exactly is Bronson Pinchot these days?? I picture him sharing a studio apartment in West Hollywood with Richard Grieco and eating Cup-O-Noodle for most of his meals. But he still can't go to the mall without 'perfect strangers' (haha) begging him to say his famous catchphrase "Get out of the city!" in his best Balki voice.

"Don't be ree-deek-ulous!!"

she was going for an even 2000

Who has time to kill one thousand nine hundred and sixty seven people?

na na na na...na na na na...

...hey hey hey...goodbyyyyyyyye.

40 is the new delusional

I saw a movie on Lifetime last week (Yes, Lifetime. Don't even say it...) starring Ann-Margret. The movie itself was average, but what made it remarkable was that Ann (who was 55 at the time) played a 45-year old in the movie. And it was believable! I could only hope to look that well at 35 much less 55.

Today there was a preview for another upcoming Lifetime movie (YES, Lifetime again...) called "Flirting with 40". From what I can tell, it seems very "Stella-Got-Her-Groove-Back"-ish. Woman who is uncharacteristically attractive for her age meets a younger man, etc.

So I saw the title "Flirting With 40" and thought, ok it must be a story about a member of AARP (Heather) who falls for a younger guy who's 40, hence the title "Flirting With 40". I'm not being unkind, I just happen to know that Heather is nearly 50 because they talk about it ALL THE TIME in the entertainment news, and how great she looks in a bikini and what not. And I agree! So then I read the synopsis of the movie on the TV directory.

"A divorced mother approaching her 40th birthday falls for a younger man while on vacation."

I try to keep a PG rating on my blog, but this calls for a "Bitch, please!" "Approaching" her 40th? "Flirting" with 40? Honey, Heather Locklear done approached 40, flirted with it, married it, had it's babies, divorced it, took it to the cleaners, microwaved it, ate it, puked it up, and flushed it down the terlet.

And I say that with the utmost respect. But it's a little insulting when movies try to pass these women off as something they're just not. Here's the irony: The steps that actresses take to make themselves look younger are actually a dead give-away to their TRUE age! In Heather's case, I'm talking about the bloated trout-pout lips. She must stop taking plastic surgery advice from her BFF's Melanie Griffith and Priscilla Pressley immediately. I know you're with me on this. When you start to see the aging celebrities' swollen collagen lips and waxy chemical peel foreheads, you know you make that clicking sound with your cheek, shake your head, and say "Ooooh, dear. Look at that. So sad."

Really, you can make sense of all this with some simple Hollywood math.

Suzie is 68 years old and wants a face and neck-lift. The 4-hour surgery is done on a Monday, and the total bill is $37,000. Suzie's net-worth is appoximately $779,000, and she has a 32" waist. If it takes her 6 weeks to recover from the surgery and she pays for it with a credit card ending in 5862, how old will Suzie look when it's finished?

So you add up the 4, the 37,000, the 779,000, the 32, the 6, and the 5862. That gives us 821,904. Now substract that number from itself. That leaves us with zero. Now add that to Suzie's age. What do you have left? Let me get a calculator. Let's see...carry the five...divide by the square root of Pi...okay, I have 68. Suzie will look 68.

I laugh now, but let's see if I'm singing a different tune 20 years from now, right? I'll probably be settling down for the night to watch TV with my 15 cats and I'll catch an old re-run of "Flirting With 40" on Turner Classic Movies. As the TV screen glows brightly on my face that now looks like Bonneville Salt Flats, I'll look at Heather and think to myself "Oh yeah. She can totally pull off 40. Just look at those plump, youthful lips."

back in black...berry

Thanks to the kind thoughts and positive energy of you, my friends, the ol' Berry has awoken from his slumber and lives to see another day. His screen finally blinked on this morning and has glowed brightly all day. Aside from a few water spots under his glass and the faint smell of Palmolive, he seems to be back at his fightin' weight.

I guess he just needed a couple of days to dry out after the holidays. Don't we all...

keep your friends close, and your blackberry closer

On the Friday after Thanksgiving, my work-issued Blackberry fell into a sink full of soapy dishwater and I'm afraid it did not survive the fall. This happened right after I'd finished watching an 8-hour "Godfather" marathon. Seemed like a tragic coincidence that my Blackberry suffered a similar fate as a character in the movie. I was reminded of the point where they discovered that Luca Brasi "sleeps with the fishes".

As for my Blackberry? Sleeps with the dishes.

adulteration

Just one year ago, I could be found sitting cross-legged on the floor enjoying a dinner of Pop-Tarts and a hot dog which I may or may not have heated up first. I was watching old re-runs of "Reba", chuckling to myself and thinking "That kooky Barbara Jean..."

Fast forward to yesterday. I'm lying on the couch, watching Larry King Live (by choice), while eating my dinner of cottage cheese with tomatoes and chicken salad with whole-grain crackers. During the commercials I'm thinking "My back is sore" and "I should have emailed this-person and that-person at work."

Today I attempted to re-capture my youth by wearing an old college sweatshirt and eating microwaved Pasta-Roni for lunch. I pretty much looked like a 33 year-old in a ratty sweatshirt whose fingers were swollen from all the sodium in the powdered cheese packet. Better luck next year.

more fun with captions

Sometimes you smoke the pipe, sometimes the pipe smokes you! -Mau

Never one to be out done, Earl "Pee Wee" Johnson set out to prove that size DOES, in fact, matter. -Marceline (Happy Birthday!)

Jimbos attempt to make a giant golf club goes all wrong, somehow the end stuck to his face as he tried to look for the problem. -Katie

Honey, you in there? -Nancy

Mystery solved - Experts now know why there hadn't been a single case of glaucoma reported within 80 miles of Ted's house in over 10 years.

Not being a football fan, Leonard TOTALLY missed the point when his friend invited him to a Super-Bowl party.

....so Jack traded his magic beans for the Giant's pipe, smoked down the beanstalk, and lived happily ever after. The End.

The new and improved pot-bellied stove.

Just in time for Christmas, Hasbro introduces the re-engineered "Easy-Bake Oven" to target a whole new demographic.

In the year 2035, a Rubinesque-looking Steve O. stars in "Jackass the Movie, Part XIV."

I'm Popeye the Reeeeeefer-maaaaan, I smokes every chance I caaaaan...I eats a big lunchy, When I'm feelin' munchy, I'm Popeye the Reeeeefer-maaaan! [Toot-toot!]

Man, you can get ANYTHING at Costco these days!

Honey, I Shrunk the Pot Head

Your turn - have at it!

match a lonely photo with its caption

I saw this picture online and it needed a good caption:

• You got to knoooow when to hold it... - Mau


• Nuh uh...I'm not gonna try it. YOU try it. Let's get Mikey to do it. He'll try anything. Hey Mikey! - Marce


• Elvis' real meaning behind "a hunk, a hunk of burning love" - Katie
• Barely able to suppress his giggles, the prison warden delights in the fact that an inmate's execution date FINALLY fell on April 1st.
• An old-fashioned Johnson Family weenie roast.
• In the middle of construction, it looks like the plumber and the electrician just "fizzled" out.
• After getting caught in his own trap yet again, Wile E. Coyote deeply regrets drinking that entire grande macchiato right before setting up his Acme Whizzinator 2000 for the Road Runner.
• It was a deadly mistake when the electric company accidentally typed a "P" instead of an "M" on Clyde's work order before sending him to the old Hatfield place for their weekly "meter"-reading.
• Hot pot.
• "Okay...I think it was Colonol Mustard...in the Conservatory...with the electrically charged urinal."
• Little Billy TOTALLY missed the point when his science teacher asked the class to construct lightening rods out of everyday household items.
• (spoken by The Devil) "I'm sorry Mr Ritchie, we made a deal. It's too late to change your mind. It's either this, or stay married to Madonna. I'll go around the corner and give you some privacy. Holler when you're fin...well...never mind. I'll be back when you're done."
• How Dude ended up looking like a Lady.

Now leave YOUR caption ideas, my hilariously clever friends. It's fun!!

let the games begin...

Spoiler Alert! If you haven't seen Episodes 1 and 2 of Bravo's Top Design this season: (A) Shame on you, and (B) you might not want to read this, as it reveals many juicy details that I have so gleefully observed as I cheer for my favorite contestant, Big Daddy Kerry. Quite an interesting mix of folks they've assembled this season, the eccentricities of which are just BEGGING to be blogged about.

I'd like to start with a tip for Andrea, aka, "Mrs. Rick Shroder". If you want to distinguish yourself as someone besides Rick Shroder's wife, you might want to stop mentioning that you're married to Rick Shroder at least four times per show, and stop showing pictures of you with your husband Rick Shroder. Anyone born before 1985 can tell who Rick Shroder is just by seeing the back of Rick Shroder's head, so that photo of you embracing Rick Shroder makes it clear to everyone that you're married to Rick Shroder.

And now, on to the people who are not married to Rick Shroder. Could someone please make Natalie stop talking? While everyone else was in History class learning that it was actually the JAPANESE who were bombed at Hiroshima, she must have been scribbling "I Heart Rick Shroder" all over her Trapper Keeper, with a big circle dotting the "i" in "Rick".

Also not married to Rick Shroder, we have Shazia, the absent-minded little scamp who nearly ruined her entire team's fabric and wallpaper stash by letting the sink overflow in Episode 1. In 50 years, they'll open up her bomb shelter and determine that 49 years and 51 weeks ago, she sadly succumbed to extreme carbon monoxide poisoning brought on by the scores of scented candles she left burning as she slept. The good news is, the stench of the body will be masked by the overwhelming smell of jasmine, french vanilla, and pumpkin orange spice.

Then there's someone named Teresa, who has completely faded into the background. Her only claims to fame at this point are (A) she's not married to Rick Shroder, and (B) she managed to not beat Natalie to death with a paint roller as they worked on their bunker together.

Ondine. She hasn't done anything yet that justifies launching an attack on her character, but we're only two weeks in. I give her credit for diplomatically mentioning that Andrea's husband looks alot like Rick Shroder from the back of his head, when you know she REALLY wanted to say "I like how that picture only shows half of your husband Rick Shroder's face so that someone besides me will eventually realize that your husband really IS Rick Shroder, at which point you'll innocently say you didn't realize that anyone would be able to tell that it's Rick Shroder from a picture that shows half of your husband Rick Shroder's face." By the way, Andrea didn't bring any pictures of her kids, by her husband Rick Shroder. They're not famous enough.

Dear, dear, Jennifer. She actually seems like a sweet, intelligent young woman, and is probably a terrific architect, but she was just a fish out of water on this show. Kudos to her for taking a risk and giving this design thing a shot, even though she's not married to Rick Shroder. For the record, if they had a Top Design Slam-Dunk B-ball challenge, she would blow everyone else AWAY. Buuuuuut it's not, so pack up your fabric swatches, sister!

Here's what I know about Eddie. (A) He doesn't like it when people steal his pillows, and (B) he works for Martha Stewart magazine. He's not as much of a name-dropper as Rick Shroder's wife, but he's managed to sneak Martha's name in there a couple times, which could become irksome if it continues. You can tell this dude totally lives and breathes interior design, b/c he literally bounces on his toes like an excited child when he discusses his work.

The deeeeelicious Preston. I might have to start wearing a bib during the show if he keeps walking around with that face. And that hair. And that chest. When he talks, it sounds like the adults on the Peanuts cartoons to me. I'm so enchanted by what I'm looking at, it renders me unable to formulate the sounds into words. Who cares what his bunker looks like, as long as he's in it? Rick Shroder WISHES he was married to him...

I think I could better appreciate Wisit's design talent if it didn't look like he was trying to scrape the enamel off his teeth with his lips when he talks. And sings. Opera.

In Episode 1, Nathan mentioned that he wanted to kill himself at one point, which I thought was a real coincidence, because so did I. That dumb hat he was sporting made him look a bit phallic, which I also though was a coincidence, since he seems like a bit of a Richard at times. He has redeemed himself with some pretty good designs, but he also keeps lucking out by getting good teammates. I have a feeling he's teetering on the edge of a massive hair-pulling, eye-scratching, cat fight meltdown, and if paired with the wrong person, he'll snap like a Thanksgiving wishbone.

Pauly Shore, find a new nickname because I officially dub Robert the new "Weasel". His was one of the most well-deserved dismissals in reality show history. My only regret is that he wasn't around long enough to be the target of Nathan's inevitable meltdown. I was looking forward to seeing what his trendy square eyeglasses would look like with a big crack in the lens.

Serge. This guy should be voted off simply for using the name "Serge" pronounced with a soft G, like in "Zsa Zsa". Henceforth, I shall refer to him as "Surge" out of sheer defiance. If his goofy name wasn't enough to get him eliminated, his heinously bad "Skippy-peanut-butter-and-upside-down-beer in a shadowbox" was.

And finally, you simply HAVE to love Big Daddy Kerry if not for his nickname alone. Hands down, he wins my award for "Most memorable sound-bites spoken by a reality show contestant." His quips cover Deep South subjects ranging from roosters in a barnyard to fat boys on a rotisserie. He has the ultimate small town country boy charm with big city class and talent. I look forward to many more Kerry-isms in the future, and if he was to actually win the award of "Top Design", why, I'd be happier than a prize pig at a 4-H Fair.

In closing, I'd like to add an interesting, and little-known bit of trivia. Andrea is married to Rick Shroder. Rick Shroder, Rick Shroder, Rick Shroder. Red Rover Red Rover, send Rick Shroder right over.

Rick Shroder!

bravo!

TEAM KERRY, ALL THE WAY...

Top Design Cast Revealed

Read Kerry's Bio

as seen on cnn

Some headlines should not be allowed to get paired together.

first class, second rate

Let me just say that my experience in first class a few weeks ago was TOTALLY tainted by some boob who got on the plane before me. I had seat 1A, yes "ONE-A" (it doesn't get any more first class than that) so I get on the plane and there he was. The boob. Sitting in my precious 1A. I asked him what seat assignment he had (and to my credit I was incredibly polite considering the injustice of it all) and he smugly looked up from his paper and spat "1A". Hmph!

So I tattled, ehhh, told, the flight attendant that we had a double-booked seat, so she checked the manifest. And lo and behold, whose name sat at the top of the list? MINE. She tells me "That's definitely your seat." Then she told him he had to give up the seat to me, so we slid by one another, and you know how effortlessly you can move around the cabin while the plane is boarding. Once I got settled, he was stuck standing in the row behind me. So he calls someone on his cell phone and right next to my ear starts loudly telling this sob story about not knowing if he'll make it home tonight because the airline sold his seat to "someone else". Someone else indeed.

Since we were in the front seat, all the other first classers saw the whole thing unfold. They also saw him get relegated to a middle seat in row 16. From that point on, I just couldn't enjoy it. I didn't feel like I was truly in the first class "club" since I had to kick someone out to get there. I could feel the disapproving stares from the people nearby boring holes through me. I didn't even feel worthy of the free sodas that were being served in coach, much less a bloody mary. (Actually scratch that - I don't drink bloody marys on the plane ever since the flight attendant dropped one on me and I had to go around for the rest of the day looking I'd been nearly stabbed to death.)

Obviously, I hope this never happens again, but I assure you if there is a next time, I shall order TEN beers and whoop it up til the wings fall off.

random thoughts of the week.

Travel = blog-worthy material!

Current destination: Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport.

Observation #1
Phoenix is poopy, poopy place.

Observation #2
I'm more daring than I thought. I just got off the moving sidewalk that says "Walk on the Left - Stand on the Right" and I'll have you know, I walked on the RIGHT. Yeah, I did it and I didn't even care that anyone saw me. What are you gonna do? Don't you dare judge me.

Observation #3
I feel irrational aggravation over trivial, irrelevant things. It annoys me to death when people eat pastries out of those brown paper Starbucks baggies. Popcorn, peanuts, potato chips - those are things you're allowed to eat out of a paper bag. But don't buy a scone or a muffin, pull off hunks of it and shovel the hunks in your mouth like that. And REALLY don't do it next to me on the plane when I'm trapped and have to watch the whole thing unfold.

Observation #4
Jillian Barberie needs to get out more. In her Nutri-System commercial, she claims "I'm not your average gal. I LOVE football... [catches a well-timed football coming at her] How many girls can do that?" ANSWER: Pretty much every girl I know, especially when the cameraman lobs it at you from 4 feet away. But congratulations on that 40 pounds you lost.

Observation #5
People know who I am. I got bumped from one flight and moved to another with a FIRST CLASS SEAT! The lady told me it was because that was the only seat left on the plane, but I know the truth.

Observation #6
My flight is about to leave.

fatherly advice

I heard something today that hit me like a frying pan. It was from a father to his daughter, and he said:

"Pay attention to what a man does. Not what he says."

I shudder to think how much time this would have saved me if I'd heard it 10 years ago. So since the only 3 people who actually read my blog have daughters, maybe you could pass this along to your little ones.

headline of the week 10/13/07

Police: Man loses ear in karaoke machine attack

Oh, the irony. The irony.

warm fuzzy on a chilly morning

Last weekend, I stepped out of myself long enough to volunteer with the Kiwanis Club for the 31st Annual St. George Marathon. In the hours leading up to the race, I almost backed out twice: Once at midnight when I arrived in St. George from a trip to New Jersey, and again 3 hours later when I had to awaken from a fitful sleep in order to be at the finish line by 3:30 am. Knowing it was 40-something degrees outside, I reluctantly dragged myself downtown and sleepily found my way to parking lot duty, sporting my reflective safety vest and 2 glow sticks. As the cars began to trickle (then POUR) into the lot, we guided them into perfect rows with surgical precision.

Ok, that's a lie. It was a bumpy, oddly-shaped dirt lot with no lines, 4 am, and I seriously wonder if there are still some people out there trying to untangle their cars from one another. But we had the best of intentions!

As I mentioned, it was a mite' nippy, but the fanfare with which we were waving drivers into their parking spots helped get the blood flowing. Then as the runners exited the lot on their way to registration, we were met with a kindness that warmed us even more. At least two dozen people walked past us with smiles that most people can't muster until at least 10 am, and they thanked us. "Thanks for volunteering!" "Thanks for being here!" These nice folks recognized that we weren't just out there due to our love for the carbon emissions smell in the morning. It was the sort of kindness that rubs off on you. The sort of kindness you want to spread around. The sort of kindness that makes you forget the fact that the 2nd toe on your left foot is frozen clear through and would require amputation.

I came away from this experience knowing 2 things for sure:

1) I need to be more grateful to those who volunteer for me. I never even think about who's getting paid and who's not, but I plan on sitting up, taking notice, and acknowledging the effort from now on.

2) I'm going to volunteer again. To have another great day like this, I'd give an arm and a leg. Or...maybe just a toe.

branching out

I recently took a spectacular trip to Europe, but when I told Katie I wanted to post pictures and blog about it, she said she'd rather see an update on my avocado plant. As always, I try to please the people, so here you go!

One month later, it's looking more like a tree, instead of a weed. At this rate, it will soon outgrow its pot and need to be re-planted into something bigger.

[Awkward silence. Crickets.]

That's it. I can't think of anything else to say about it. I must be suffering from writer's block. It must be all those fun and interesting stories about Europe clogging my brain...

humble beginnings

This is an avocado tree that has been sprouted from a pit. On Sunday it was 1 inch tall, and now as you can see it's pushing 4 inches in less than one week. If you stare at it long enough you can almost see it move. Sprouting an avocado tree is just about the easiest thing in the world to do.

1) Eat an avocado.
2) Save the pit.
3) Wrap the pit in a wet double paper towel.
4) Place towel and pit in sealed Ziplock bag.
5) Throw it under your kitchen sink for a few weeks and forget about it.
6) After a few weeks, take it out, rinse off the slime.
7) Plant it in a pot about a half inch below the soil.
8) Water it so the soil never gets too muddy or too dry.

And that's pretty much it. Why couldn't all living things be this easy to care for? Wouldn't it be great if you could wrap up your bratty teenager in a wet paper towel and toss him under the sink for awhile, only to be retrieved weeks later, ready to grow into a mature adult??

penny for your thoughts

Katie has brought my attention to today's Yahoo! cover story:

Synopsis: President Lincoln had an unusual degree of facial asymmetry, possibly caused when he was kicked in the head by a horse as a child.

Apparently, we've finished analyzing Hilary Clinton's hips, Seal's mystical cheek scars, and Tara Reid's botched franken-boobs. We've beaten the proverbial horse to death (perhaps as revenge for that kick in the head) and have now moved on to the physical imperfections of historical figures!

I can't think of a better use of anyone's time then creating highly technical scans of Lincoln's face to compare the circumference of his eye sockets. Brilliant! And I'm glad this face thing is now getting more attention than that silly Emanu...Emanga...Emanci...I dunno, some sort of Proclamation thingy. This is something that today's youth can really relate to. He's finally done something worthy of getting that lopsided face stamped on a penny!

what not to wear

I think the woman in the Detrol LA commercials would have a lot more fun at the party if she didn't wear the sandwich board.


There are 2 things about this commercial that I find noteworthy. First, I don't think you could pay me enough to be in a commercial where I have to pretend I've lost control of a bodily function. It's going to happen for real eventually anyway, so I'd rather not have the world think it's happening now. Or worse yet, the dreaded STD medications. What happens when you tell people what you do for a living?

Date: So, what do you do?
You - I'm a commercial actress.
Date - Cool! What commercials have you been in?
You - ::coughValtrexcough::
Date - Would you excuse me? My beeper is going off.
You - You don't have a beeper.
Date [awkward silence] Would you excuse me?

I'd lie.

Date: So, what do you do?
You - I'm a commercial actress.
Date - Cool! What commercials have you been in?
You - Swiffer.

Secondly, check out the insensitive bitches on the left side of the photo, whose faces are contorted into fits of laughter at this woman's shame. The one on the far left is laughing so hard, she's actually bent over. Well, karma is an insensitive bitch too, and I hope she deals both of these women a bout of chronic, fiery, explosive diarrhea that they'll never forget. Then Miss Thang on the left will really have a reason to bend over.

Who's the party-pooper now?

super bawl sunday

From FanNation.com:

Steelers' Wilson feels slighted

Cedrick Wilson feels ignored and he's not happy about it. The Steelers receiver complained yesterday that his quarterbacks don't throw the ball his way enough in practice or games, even when he's wide open. "I come out here and work hard just like everybody else. I deserve a couple of passes," an angry Wilson said shortly after morning practice ended on a pass play that provoked an outburst by him.

Moooom!! Ben Roethlisberger won't throw me the baaaallllll!!!

this is your pilot, uhhh, speaking

On the way home from that suc-cess-ful trip to California, I realized I need to speak out on yet another issue of American air travel. It is regarding the pilots themselves and their devastatingly sub-par ability to make an announcement over the intercom. As many flights as they take, you'd think they would come up with some script for announcements, but they inevitably end up sounding like it's the first time they ever said it! You've heard it before. The gravelly-voiced mumbling, the long pauses, the loud POP! every time they say the letter P that blows that deafening blast of air into the mouthpiece.

Good afternoon uhhhhhhhhhhh this is your POP!-ilot, uhhhhhhhhhh...Welcome aboard Flight fifteen eighty two with service to uhhhhhh [20 second pause] POP!-ittsburg POP!-ennsylvania. Flight time is uhhhhhhhhhhh a-POP!-roximately one hour and uhhhhhhhhhhh eighteen minutes and the current weather in POP!-ittsburg is uhhhhhhhhhh...seventy-seven...

[Long pause during which you drink a Diet Coke and finish 2 Sudoku puzzles]

...degrees and sunny. Enjoy the flight

replacement parts

I'm not the only one with some big shoes to fill. Luna was a fine piece of American...err Korean...ehhhh Japanese machinery, and I knew she'd be a tough act to follow. It wasn't until I happened upon this charcoal-colored beauty that I believed it could be done. It has a lot of neat gadgets, the most note-worthy being the Blue-Tooth capability with steering wheel-mounted controls. I'm so blinded by the coolness of it, that I really wouldn't care if the car itself was made out of Play-Doh. OK, after the novelty of the Blue-Tooth wore off, it probably WOULD bother me that it was made out of Play-Doh. Although, think how easy and affordable repairs would be...

a not-so-perfect "10"

Last Friday I got off work and, like a fool, got all excited about shoe shopping for a much-needed pair of new sneakers. I optimistically made my way to the store, like a fool. I'm Pavlovian about the whole thing, really. I always head for the shoe store with excited anticipation the way the dog went for the food...and inevitably am met with the same disappointment as when Spot finds his bowl empty again.

To make my point, let's do a fun exercise. Go to www.shoes.com. Click the link on the left that says "Womens". (Humor me, guys.) See in the top right corner where it has the number of records found? Tonight it says 18,426. I'm sure that increases daily. Now scroll down on the left and narrow by Size 10.5. Now how many records found?

720.

I am a bona fide size 10.5. I own 10's that pinch, 11's that flop, and an irregular 9.5 that's not half bad. So let's look at the options on this website. Anything for the career woman? Hmmm, yes indeed, if your career is "prison guard", "professional pole vaulter", or "lumberjack". "Us big gals, we likes us some boots!"

Let's recap. Out of EIGHEEN THOUSAND entries on a website called "SHOES" dot com, 4% of them would potentially fit me, and most of them would only be appropriate if I spent my days a) lounging in my bathrobe, or b) wandering around in my vegetable garden.

If it's that bad online, I DEFY you to walk into any brick and mortar store and ask the salesperson for a womens 10.5 in anything. Note the look on their face. Then ask them for a shirt with three sleeves. The look on their face? Probably not so different!

farewell, old friend

My dear Luna (full name: Luna E. Clipse) has gone to live with a lovely family in Leeds, UT, where she'll have lots more room to run and play.


Thanks for 4 years of loyal service. It's been a great run - I'll miss you, old girl.

the smell of success. but mostly just "cess".

During a trip to the Silicon Valley last week, I visited a national landmark. On your next American road trip, don't miss "the Hoover Dam", "the world's largest ball of twine", and my latest discovery - "the world's most revolting smelling pool hall" in lovely Mountain View, CA. Upon entering, I recommend ordering 3 bottled beers: One to drink, and 2 to shove up your nose. In fact, call ahead, place your order, and have them handed to you in the parking lot, just to be safe. The smell of the room is best described as "feet + ass + eight types of cheese that have been sitting in the sun all day".

It's an experience your sinuses won't soon forget.

armed and dangerous

The 2004 Arm Wrestling Nationals are on ESPN2 right now. Incidentally, unless they start airing reruns of the Brady Bunch on ESPN2, this is the first and last time I will ever tune in. As I was scanning the channels, I happened to hear that the contest was taking place at the Queen Victoria Casino in Rising Sun, Indiana which is about 30 mintutes from where I grew up.

Fascinating sport. These are the great minds of our society - especially the guy with the cleft palatte and missing tooth. What a philosopher he is. I wonder if doctors will EVER come up with a treatment for cleft palatte...

I digress!!

"This mah son. He guna be a world champion" he says, as he proudly showcases the green blob tattoo on his forearm that probably vaguely resembled a portrait of a young child at some point.

On to the competition! Physiologically, these men look...how shall we say..."interesting". I'm watching the "Left-handed" championships. Of course! I mean you have lightweight, welter-weight, heavy-weight boxing. It stands to reason you'd have leftie and rightie "arm-wrasslers". So their "wrasslin" arm bears a striking resemblance to two full-term pregnant hogs wrapped end-to-end in a flour tortilla. The "non-dominant" appendage, however, looks like someone tore off his real arm and replaced it with Paris Hilton's arm.

That's hot.

Finally, the hogs-in-tortilla-armed men step up to the competition podium...table...thing. With pads. The referee sets their chalk-covered hands in position after much trash talking, bitching, and struggling between contestants, the whistle blows, and 0.075 seconds later, our blob-tattoo, philosopher friend is baring his gap-toothed grin in victory. He's happy, but I can't help but have lingering sympathy for the guy who lost. He probably trained for months, raised money, perhaps even earned sponsorships, loaded up the RV and drove clear from Kokomo, Indiana to attend the championships, only to be eliminated in .075 seconds. Even in drag racing, you at least get to travel a quarter mile. Having your forearm slammed into a cheap vinyl pad hardly seems worth the tank of gas it took to get there.

All this arm-wrasslin talk gave me fond memories of the blockbuster Stallone hit "Over the Top". This movie is horribly wonderful in the same way that "Roadhouse" is horribly wonderful. If you haven't already, I highly recommend you watch the mis-adventures of James Dalton and Lincoln Hawk IMMEDIATELY. Don't thank me. It'll be the best 4 hours of your life, I sewar....I mean, I swear.

cringe: part 2

Jackpot! I found a link to the infamous Jessica blunder: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEGfIXh1O1w . This really chaps my hiney because 9 to 5 is my favorite Dolly Parton song. Nancy and I can sing it better in karaoke!