Why Didn't I Think Of This?

Sometimes an idea comes along...
An idea so incredible I am left speechless. I am left in a quandary.
I am left surfing dictionary.com and urbandictionary.com for more cool words to type here.
In the words of the immortal Inspector Gadget.
Wowzers.
I could smack my self and call me Sally for not coming up with this idea.
A nutcracker.
Nutcracker?
A nutcracker you say?
Yes. Not just any nutcracker. The Mother of All Nutcrackers.
The Hillary Nutcracker.
Good freakin' times, yo.
I am so getting one for my birthday. Hold the phones. Why wait? I could claim it as my unbirthday present!
Sweet! Loophole!
Someone high five me.
But wait, there's more!
You happen to like Hillary and take offense to this obvious right wing conspiracy? Fine. They have a Ann Coulter and Dubya version coming out soon. Fun for the whole family! They need to add a few folks to the list like, John McCain, Rosie O'Donnell, Jay Leno (he could carve Mt Rushmore with that jaw...).
The list is endless!
You can even spare yourself the pain and buy it with a bag of nuts!
Sweet. They've thought of everything.
Make sure you check out the flash intro. Normally I would frown upon something as dated as the flash intro but the song is pretty catchy.
I'll be humming it all day.
And now heres Chester with sports...
I got an email from by Mets fan buddy the night before last, minutes after the whole Santana mania thing came to an end.
Apparently, the Twin traded the All-World,face-of-the-franchise, Venezuelan Superhero (apparently Hugo Chavez has a life sized poster of a shirtless Johan in his room), left handed, Cy Young award winning Superstar for a ham and cheese sandwich, chips, a soda and a large chocolate chip cookie.
With extra large chocolate chunks.
Wow.
Amazing.
So why did the Twins ask for the recipe to McDonald's Secret sauce, the key to Fort Knox, One hundred Billion Dollars (place the right pinky on the edge of your mouth) the first born males of every New Yorker and half of their minor league roster from the Yankees?
(Yo, Gates... why did I have to add pinky to the dictionary? You all thumbs or something? Sheesh.Seriously. Pinky? Come on man...)
So at least he didn't go to the Red Sox.
I got that going for me.
Now Ollie with the weather. Ollie?
"It's gonna be hot."
Thanks Ollie.

Hit The Road Yo...

The voters in the sunny state of Florida have spoken. They showed up in record numbers and made a statement heard across the land!
It has shaken the halls of power and shifted allegiances across party lines.
It was revolutionary.
It was inevitable.
Change is on the way people. Change is coming.
The people said "We want lower property taxes!"
So it is written, so shall it be done.
I don't care what you hear in the news today, the voters came out in droves not so much for the primary as much as the property tax amendment. Sure some people might have also voted for their favorite American Idol but since they are all a pack of William Hungs (albeit without the goofy charm...) AND most of the votes won't count, who cares?
I could care less personally.
I'm just sad that Edwards is deciding to drop out.
No more pretty boy jokes. No more $400 hair cuts to wow over.
Crap.
I need someone else to poke fun of.
I'd go with McCain but he looks pretty mean. He survived as a POW for over 5 years and regularly berates and bullies other members of Congress. He gives them the evil eye and they pee their collective kilts. He drops F-Bombs like B-17's over Hamburg circa 1945 and when he points his focus at you, you want to curl up under a desk somewhere.
He looks kind of like what a retired CIA assassin should look like. All cool, calm and collected on the outside, smiling at the pleasant conversation while inside, he's trying to determine the best way to get rid of your body when he's done.
I wouldn't want to get caught in a dark alley with him. I can feel the 2x4 whacking me stupid.
He should carry a sword.
That would be cool. He's scare the middle east into compliance. But McCain would probably scare small children too and I could see him going totally Dark Overlord on a bad day.
"Nail my opponents to the light posts lining Pennsylvania avenue! Let's see them complain now! MWUHAHAHAHAHA..."
Okay. That was weird. I need to lay off the caffeine.
Hillary is just too obvious. Everyone is doing it, and when it comes right down to it, people that make fun of her or her husband seem to commit suicide a lot.
I want to live.
Obama? He seems like a really nice guy and there isn't a whole lot of ammo there to pick on. He's photogenic so I don't have as many weird facial expressions as I do for Hill. I had to doctor his Senate photo with the Junk Yard Dog for crying out loud. People also tend to get tesy when you pick on him. For the moment the media has decided he's golden.
Until they get bored and toss him like yesterday's tuna.
Besides, you can't really make fun of him without Al "Never mention Tawana Brawley to me again or I will gut you like a fish, yo" Sharpton whipping out the race card.
I just had to add Sharpton and Tawana Brawley to my dictionary.
I feel dirty.
The Honorable Senator Obama (D-Ill.), the way I see it, Oprah likes him so he has to be good, right? Cuz' we all know that Oprah is NEVER wrong.
Ever.
I mean it.
Never.
Let's see, I could go with Ron Paul but I actually like the guy. He's so kooky with all his get rid of the IRS talk. I wonder how many times he's been audited? A hundred? Of all the candidates out there, if he were close to getting the nomination (don't laugh... it could happen...) he'd either have some sort of accident or get outright blowed up.
He'd get Lee Harvey Oswalded so fast it'd shock you.
Yeah. I said it.
So it's probably a good thing for him and his family that Fox News hates him and is going all out to crush his candidacy.
Rudy?
Fuhgheddaboutit.
(Had to add that too... but it was way funner!)
Going the way of Johnnie Walker Ed. It will be interesting to see who they sell out to - I mean, who they endorse down the road. I'm going to guess Eddie goes with flavor of the month Obama and Rudy becomes McCain's Lord Vader.
Poor Rudy. Turns out the farther away we get from 9-11, the less we care about it. I think the sheeple are tired of speeches where Terror, Terrorist and September 11th are mentioned 40 million times.
I guess I could go with Mitt Romney. He looks like Presidential Contender Ken. Where's Barbie? He probably comes with all sorts of cool accessories. I wonder if he'll be in stores in time for Christmas? I'm sure my kids would love to get Campaign Tour Bus Edition Romney, complete with posters and buttons and perfect hair.
Awesome.

Push Comes To Shove...

Yeah. So thankfully Dubya's final state of the Union didn't impede any new Chuck episodes, not that I watched. I don't think I could have handled that again.
Would've had to go postal on something.
Not sure what.
But something would have had hell to pay.
Maybe the pillow.
Maybe that last Double Stuff Oreo.
Something.
Who wants to watch Ted Kennedy and Barak Obama (new BFFs!!!) chuck spit balls at Hillary.
Wait.
On further review... I would have watched that. See how long she would have been able to sit there impassively before turning and yelling "Cut it out you spaz!"
Or something more salty.
Ted did catch some much needed z's. Always nice when you can sneak a nap in on the President.
That's probably why I will never run for congress or the senate. Not that anyone would actually vote for me. I'd be passing notes during sessions of congress.
"Hey... check out the new guy. He looks like Pee Wee Herman...."
"Do you want to vote for my bill? Check the box, yes or no..."
"Hillary and Obama sitting in a tree... K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."
Can they hand out detention slips in Congress? They should. You could have Nancy Pelosi up there like the Principal.
"Mister Obama, I will see you in detention after this session! Really... spitballs. Well I never...
I would expect that from the other side of the aisle. I am so disappointed in you Barak. I expected better behavior."
"Ted made me do it!!!"
"Nuh uh! I was sleeping!"
Cheney could be like that evil Vice Principal with the coaches whistle.
"McCain... stop picking your nose!"
"Mel, this is America... speak english when your in this building. And get off the cell phone!"
"Ewwwwwwww"
It would be like Beverly Hills 90210 all over again. Except with less talented people. And not as good looking.
But it would be fun to watch.

Feelings Of Inadequacy...

Sometimes I wish I could skip the weekends. Really. They can be more trouble than they're worth. I find myself having to do more on the weekends than I do during the week.
Not this weekend, though.
I didn't do much at all.
Caught up on the episodes of Chuck I missed on Saturday and I was even able to introduce my brother in law to his Royal Geekness, Lord Charles Bartowski - Crown Prince of the Nerd Herd.
It was good times.
Oh yes. Good times.
I rocked out to some old school, 80's hair bands whilst on the elliptical this weekend as I sweated off those Oreo Double stuffs I pigged out on.
Huffing and a puffing and a rocking and rolling...
How middle aged of me.
Is that part of a mid life crisis? I've been keeping a weather eye out for signs that I am suffering from that dreaded affliction.
The last thing I want to do is go into hock for a Porsche and start wearing sunglasses so I'll look cool again. I want to be comfortable with who I am and who I am becoming.
A noble endeavor to be sure.
Just so long as I achieve the washboard abs...
I really am getting older. Now officially closer to 40 than to 30. The weird thing is, physically, I feel better than I have in a decade. I probably should have started taking care of myself years ago instead of wasting all that time on donuts.
Stupid donuts.
I hate donuts.
I miss donuts.
Why Donuts!?! Why!?!
I am going to move on now. Ignore that last outburst.
Spring is around the corner and I am looking forward to it. Baseball, hot dogs, pool, beach, BBQ. Good times.
I've been looking at infomercials a lot lately. Another sure sign I am getting older, getting persuaded by those things. I'm considering trying one of those exercise programs. Just to see if it works.
I'll let you know if I do.
Started tracking measurements this weekend too. To see how effective (if at all) my current workout regimen is. Stats to follow later.
If all goes well I will have a body that looks like it was built by steroids and HGH without all of the side effects! Sweet! Let's see if some hard work and discipline can produce the same effect as chemical enhancements...
Stay tuned true believers.

What The Chuck!?!

I was gleeful last night. The UberGeek Superhero, one Chuck Bartowski, returned to the airwaves as NBC gave the WGA Strike the finger and whipped out some aces in the hole.
Namely, two new episodes of Chuck.
It's the coolest thing to happen to nerds since, well, since, like ever!
Okay, wait. Completely forgot about Revenge of the Nerds.
Valhalla, nirvana.
Good times.
Chuck is better though. It's hip and funny without going too far over the Nerd Stereotype line.
And he's a Super Spy Ninja hero.
Okay. He's not a Ninja.
Anyway, I was all stoked up for two, count 'em, TWO all new episodes of Chuck.
Christmas come early, y'all. Christmas come early.
And the first episode was awesome. Super hot French spy chick fakes her death and there's a lot of kicking and hand to hand combat and throwing dudes off a hotel balcony and ...
Well, I don't want to spoil it for you.
So I realized that there was going to be an episode of Celebrity Apprentice sandwiched between the two Chuck episodes. Okay, I could go game for a bit or catch up on the Super Bowl hype (Go East Rutherford) and then BAMF back in time for a second helping of Uber Geek Action Dramedy.
Yeah, boyee! Good times indeed!
Wait.
What's this?
The Republiwhozawhatsit?
A debate? A policy infomercial.
Great. The one time living in Florida really bites.
We are apparently having some sort of primary next week. But as a registered Indy, I get to sit it out.
So why is Chuck bucked? Crap.
Crap.
Crap on a stick.
I tried to do my civic duty. (Heh. I said duty.) I tried to watch it. It was insightful. It was informative. It was...
Well, it was pretty boring. They had a lot of respect for each other, blah, blah, blah.
Where was the fire? The no-holds-barred smack down fest?
Oh. Okay. Apparently the Dems are the ones in the Battle Royal.
DING. DING>
"Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for the main event?"
A roar rises from the crowd.
"In this corner, the Senator from New York, the Beast from the East, Hillary Clinton!!!!"
Another riotous roar.
"And in this corner the contender, the Senator from Illinois, the Chocolate Wonder, Oprah's favorite son, the enigmatic, charismatic, super fly guy, the apple of your eye...BARAK... HUSSE-"
"What's that? He- he doesn't like it when... Okay. Yeah. No problem. My bad..."
"Uh, Barak OBAMA!!!!!"
And the crowd goes wild!
The bell rings and they go at it.
"The lady Clinton opens up with a powerful dropkick and stuns Obama. He sure wasn't expecting that was he Gene?"
"Ho boy, that caught him right in the teeth, Jimmy."
"Uh oh, Obama has the Champ in a reverse headlock! He's twisting her up, getting ready for an atomic suplex!"
BLAM!
"Oh man, I don't care if you don't really have man parts, that's gotta hurt!"
"That's right Gene. Obama is going for the three count!"
One.
Two.
"Oh no, Jimmy! It's her manager Suber Bubba Bill running into the ring!"
"He's got a foreign object!!!! He's got a chair!!!"
WHAM!!!!
"Oh!! Obama is down! Bubba whacked him with a steel chair just as the referee's hand was about to come down!"
"Uh oh, Gene, Obama is out cold. Hillary is pinning him for the three count!"
One.
Two.
Three.
"And there is is folks, Obama gets decked with a chair and is dropped like a bad habit!"
Why couldn't the Repubbies be more like that?
The closest we got to that was McCain telling Huckabee he was going to send Sylvester Stallone over to take care of Chuck Norris.
Like Norris wouldn't just roundhouse him across the street.
That would have been worth missing Chuck for.
Instead they sat around the campfire singing Kumbaya while Tim Russert snapped spitballs at them for 90 minutes.
Crap.
I'm going to see if I can find the episode online.
Happy Friday.

Worst. Job. Ever.

You ever wake up disgusted with your job? I know I do. From time to time, the day to day frustrations of work and co-workers can get to even the most happy and well adjusted individual. Dread the drive to work, the inane office banter, the acidic coffee (for those of you addicted to that stuff) and carpal tunnel syndrome.
I was wondering what to comment on today and I found a list of jobs that no one really would want. Leave it to Popular science to conduct a study of the worst jobs ever.

10. Whale Poop Collector: It's EXACTLY what it sounds like. You sail around all day and scoop up Moby's deuces gone wild. Apparently in addition to Hope, poop floats too.

9. Maggot Man: "So Officer Krupkie, how long has the victim been dead?" Just ask Super Maggot Man. He can tell how long bodies have been dead by observing those disgusting little creatures.... Okay. I'm going to hurl if I don't stop right now...

8. No Win Scenario Guy: Imagine getting to watch world class athletes pee. Yeah, that's what I want to do with my life, watch Ben Johnson's johnson do it's thing. And the best part is when they bust the guy for cheating. Now all of Canada hates you. Happy now?

7. Rufus, Professional Guinea Pig: So you didn't cut the mustard for the Astronaut program? No problem, you can be a test subject for NASA so the real astronauts have a chance up there. All the headaches, none of the glory. Where do I sign up?

6. Death Star Security Guard: Imagine every hacker in the world with you in the cross hairs. You work for Microsoft. You answer emails that report holes in the software. If you use a computer you know it's got to be a lot. Tons. Tons of tons. I'd rather work security at the mall.

5. My Name is Igor, I'll be your waiter today: Talk about a dead end job. You get to package all things dead for use in science classes everywhere. Frogs, bats, lizards, the homeless guy that "donated" his body to science for a bottle of Thunderbird... Good times.

4. Peter, Peter, Garbage picker: So you like wide open spaces? Good. Go hang out at the dump and study everything we toss out and then you get to justify the grant you got for supporting your eBay habit by figuring out how many tootsie rolls the Smiths eat a week.

3. Super Sized Nut Cracker: Jumbo got too many kids? No problem, grab the Novocain and the chainsaw and snip snip. Try not to get gored by the angry pachyderm or crushed when the berries fall off the tree like anvils. I just want to know one thing... Why?

2. Feed Me To The Sharks: Where's Aqua Man when you need him? Apparently the Oceans are going to hell in a hand basket and the only ones paying attention are the Oceanographers studying aquatica. And its all bad. And depressing. And they are sinking in despair. Get it? Sinking? HA!

1. Toxic Avengers: This one actually sounds sort of cool in a "man I need a death rush of the first magnitude today" sort of way. HazMat Diver glow in the dark. It could be a bumper sticker... or a disclaimer on the job application. So THATS the guy that has to swim to the bottom of the reactor pool for the boss' car keys....

There has to be worse jobs out there. I think PopSci missed a few. Don't they watch Dirty Jobs on Discovery? Tomorrow is Friday. I'm going to think about that for the rest of the day.

Dirt Nap All Stars...

What is in the water these days? Now Heath Ledger? Come on. This has got to stop people. They are dropping like flies. Eventually this whole WGA strike thing is going to blow over and we won't have any actors left to film with.
Man. I was looking forward to his performance as the Joker in the new Batman flick.
Now I don't know. He's supposed to have been awesome. At least according to some of the previews I have read. What am I supposed to do if he totally rocks the Joker? There won't ever be another Joker like that again. Good or bad.
This reminds me of Brandon Lee and the Crow.
I was really saddened by his death. I was looking forward to good movies with him. Same with Ledger.
Okay, I have not and will not see the Brokeback.
I figure I will just spare myself the gay cowboys eating pudding.
I'm bummed out. Genuinely bummed out.
Renfro dies and I'm like, "Oh. That sucks."
Ledger's gone and I feel like I got sucker punched. No idea why. It is what it is.
2 year old Matilda will never really get to know her Dad except through whatever footage of him is available.
I'm hoping his death was an accident and not suicide. No idea why that matters at this point really.
Okay. Rambling. Talented actor dead. Really sad. Spring training is a few weeks off and the super bowl is up next.
I need a cookie.

Scooby Doo and the case of the Spooky DJ...

I had an interesting conversation with my Father last night. He was telling me about a Church service he attended where the guest preacher (is that like a pinch preacher? substitute preacher? I digress...) guest speaker called him up in front of the congregates and said that he was suffering under a generational curse that extended way back.
Back into time.
And the crux of the curse was that when things were about to go good they are supposed to fall through. And this divinely inspired fellow said that the curse passed from one generation to the next.
That means me too.
It would explain a lot.
I've heard of the concept of generational curses before. It's not a new concept. In a nutshell you are basically predisposed to a certain activity because of a negative spiritual influence on your family line.
Alcoholism, gambling, all sorts of familiar dysfunctions can be attributed to spiritual influence.
So I got that going for me.
Some families hand down a fortune from one family to the next.
I get poltergeist.
Good times.
Since I believe in God, I think I will choose not to worry about the spectral influences on my life. I believe (I really do...) that there are spiritual beings that influence the tangible world in which we live. I am just determined to not let these lesser beings have more of an impact than, say, the creator of the universe.
Can I get an amen?
And for the record, I have come by this belief through personal experience as opposed to simple indoctrination.
I met a spooky creature once.
Not like Scooby Doo spooky.
Like Amityville Horror spooky.
It was a very surreal moment. Okay, here goes...
This one time I was helping my Dad with a carpentry project. He used to build loft beds and shelving units and cabinets in his spare time, still tinkers with it from time to time.
Anyway, in this case we were at the house of a family friend where he was finishing up the loft bed and some bookshelves for Vinyl Albums.
She was a DJ.
So it's late and I leaning up against the open door frame of the bedroom. No one else in in the house except for me and Pop.
It was quiet. The lady didn't have any pets and being something of a neat freak, she was able to avoid the standard apartment extras like roaches and mice.
Good times so far.
She had a massive collection of little glass figurines. They were lined up all over the place, shelves, counters, etc.
I hear them tinkle.
Not like, I gotta go tinkle, like someone was knocking them together tinkle.
Weird since no one else was there.
Crazy huh?
In those old houses, in this case a three story shotgun style attached home, with their wood floors and century old construction, were not always quiet. You could hear neighbors upstairs and downstairs, music playing, TV shows blaring, babies crying, etc.
Except she lived alone.
No one else was home.
Pop sort of looks at me, eyebrows raised, and I realize he heard the noise too.
Then it gets weirder.
The floorboards creak like someone is in the living room.
Only no one is there.
The house is dark except for the light in the room we are working in and the light in the hallway and staircase beyond.
Creak.
I can feel the subtle shift of wood underneath my bum. Whatever it is is walking towards us in the room.
"Are you sure we're alone?" I ask.
"Yeah."
Creak. Closer still.
At this point I can feel something really close by. You know how it is when someone sneaks up behind you and invades your personal space? That Jedi like skill that alerts you a full second before someone shouts BOO!
No one shouted boo.
"I think someone is standing behind me Pop."
"No one is there."
And at that precise moment is when I felt the hot breath on the back of my neck. Purposeful, intimate, intentional.
"I think we should leave Pop."
And we did.
I still get the heebbie's jeebies when I think about it. Mostly I try to blot the whole episode out.
Thank you for bringing it up. Now I'm all creeped out.
And to make it worse, I have Abba songs stuck in my head now.
Probably some sort of post traumatic stress related defense mechanism.
I hope your happy.

Red Rover, Red Rover...

Long weekend. At least thats the way it seemed. It was only 2 days, a normal, garden variety weekend. Nothing fancy.
But I feel like a got a lot squeezed in there, not that I did anything substantial. Took the junior clones bike riding.
A lot.
We saw some fish down by the pond.
Fed them bread.
The fish liked it. Probably because there weren't any hooks hidden in the bread.
Good times.That was my excuse to eat like an animal. A pair of my favorite Ya-Ya's came over for a visit on Saturday. The Ya-Ya's are my aunt's on my Mom's side.
I read a book, made some chili and uh, not much else really.
Watched some football.
Apparently it was really, really cold in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Something the locals are used to but the crew of Fox Sports found amazing. Watched Jimmy Johnson pour some water and then freak out about how it froze solid before they finished the pre-game show.
Big deal.
That was how we cooled 2-Liters on Thanksgiving in New York. If we ran out of room in the freezer, we just set it out on the fire-escape to keep it cold. Worked like a charm.
It was cool in the sunshine state but not brutally so.
I'm just feeling laid back. Waiting for spring I guess. Sure, I'm looking forward to the Super Bowl. The East Rutherford Giants are in it.
More than just good times there.
All we have to do now is beat a team no one has been able to beat and is generally considered one of the best teams in the history of the NFL.
No pressure.
We've got an office pet now. His name is Rover. He's a roach. We spotted him on Friday and our fearless leader instantly went all Mogadishu on him with a two-stage assault rubber band. Rover proved rather adept at dodging incoming fire and his resilience was rather inspirational.
The UN got involved and PETA and Amnesty International.
So now there is like a no-fly zone in the office and Rover gets humanitarian aid.
Nice.
It's almost like he planned it that way.

Starring Chow Yun Fat...

It's Friday again! I'm constantly amazed that I keep getting them so regularly. Seems like every seven days or so one pops up. Almost like it was on some sort of cosmic schedule.
Sweet.
Don't you love the routine?
I know I do.
How hardcore are you when you get your very own bobblehead? I think you have to be at least slightly cool.
Athletes get them all the time. And athletes are cool.
And role models for your kids. And they should run for public office. But all of those other bobble heads are in uniform.
But not Chien-Ming Wang, starting pitcher for the New York Yankees .
The Wang is pronounced like Wong.
No, I have no idea why... it just is...
Anyway, Wang decides he's going to go old school mob style. Dark suit, dark shirt, dark tie. He's like a Triad Hitman.
Freakin' awesome!
Arms folded, icy stare...
Go ahead, I DARE you to wobble that bobble.
He'd whip up on you so fast all you'd hear was the sound of one hand slapping.
You.
Upside yo' head.
FWAP!
It's official. I want to be that cool.
If they ever make a movie about Wang (and lets face it, why wouldn't they?) he would have to be played by Chow-Yun Fat.
And he's have to have twin pearl handled forty-fives and fight crime in between starts. They would have like the Wang Symbol light up the night sky (it'd be some sweet Chinese Character that means Fighting Dragon Smackdown or something) and he'd show up with a golden bat with a dragon carved on the side.
His Kung-Fu is definitely better than yours.
We'd make Curt Schilling the arch-villain and he could use Kevin Youka- Youkill- Yuca....
How the heck do you spell...
Gimme a sec.
Okay. Youkilis... (pronounced YOO-kill-us)
He could use Kevin Youkilis' facial hair as like his evil genious cat.
Yeah.

Where Baseball's Secrets Go To Die...

I still draw sometimes. Saw a blog post on a fav Yankees blog of mine that asked for a photoshopped meatlocker with blood samples in it.
I decided to sketch something out instead of Googleing.

Sometimes They Call Back...

I've been searching for a sure fire way to defeat the growing hordes of undead.
Telemarketers.
I need to fashion a foolproof weapon that is sure to protect me from free Viagra samples and subscriptions to magazines I don't read.
I would like to be able to eat dinner in peace without having to hear the incessant ringing of the phone.
I mean, I need an iron clad, bulletproof, money-back guaranteed defense to their invasive and annoying phone calls.
I was finally able to shunt the rising tide of calls.
I turned off the home phone.
Drastic? Sure. But it worked.
For a while.
Email is no longer safe.
It's like the eleventh plague of Egypt, locusts, fire falling from the sky, frogs everywhere, rivers of blood, telemarketers. And it's only getting worse.
At least I don't have to listen to that dreadful monotone.
I don't care what C1alis will do for me. My wife thinks I'm just fine the way I am. No, I don't need your wonder drug to shed excess pounds.
I don't want to make thousands of dollars a day from the comfort of my own home.
Actually, that doesn't sound so bad...

Death, Taxes and the Exoricist...

Yes. Another one. This time it's Brad Renfro's turn to join the list of young dead hollywood. Do they have like a walk of fame for that? They ought to. It'd be longer than the regular walk of fame. And you could put tombstones instead of stars. You know what's really sad?
You don't have any idea who I'm talking about.
"Brad who?"
"OMG, I thought you said Brad Pitt... I was going to jump in front of a bus!"
"Renfro? Wasn't that the guy that helped count Dracula or something?"
Renfield. And he was fictional. Unlike the late Brad Renfro.
That blank look on your face says it all. If you saw The Client or Apt Pupil then you know who he is.
You'll be like, "Ohhhhh... THAT guy."
When I heard on the radio about his death at age 25, I started thinking about the River Phoenix, Jonathan Brandeis, Chris Farleys and the James Deans.
All that wasted talent.
I ended up coming across this Famous Peoples Death list web site. Lists are compiled by year.
It even has a cool name.
The Dead People Server.
Freakin awesome.
So, in my perusing the list, I discovered a number of folks that passed without me noticing.
I found my self going, "Wait... HE'S dead!?!?"
So I knew about Rick James. Didn't know about Julia Childs. Remember her? The drunk French Chef lady? She was pre-Food Channel so you might not remember. The dude that played Todd Willis on the Jeffersons. Turns out his real name wasn't Todd, it was Franklin Cover.
Funny, he looked more like a Todd.
There were a bunch of names that I didn't recognize but their work sounded familiar and when I Googled them, I was like "THAT GUY DIED!"
Overall, I was a little sad by the time I worked my way through 2008.
Speaking of sad, Wesley Snipes is going on trial for income tax evasion. It's a fairly big story in Central Florida at the moment so I thought I would toss in my 2 cents.

Exhibit A: The Jury. I hate to pull the race card from the deck but a black man on trial with an all white jury? Well, let's just say that, historically, it's never been good to a African-Americans. Even as a Brooklyn-American (since we're all getting segmented into our ethnic groups...) of Hispanic decent, I'd be nervous. Now fraud is fraud and if he's guilty he should get what's coming to him.

Exhibit B: Wes is claiming he was duped. The Government is claiming he hasn't filed a return since 1998 AND he owes like (place the pinky next to your lower lip...) 10 Million dollars! Someone is lying and when that happens, the Government sends people to jail.

I started to think about how someone can have that happen. Let's give Wes the benefit of the doubt. He's made millions in Hollywood. Surely you'd have to have an accountant, right? What if the accountant was crooked? Kept all the tax money for himself or something?
Wait? Wasn't that in a movie already?
Rocky4! Holy cow. Wesley's going with the Rocky Defense!
Nice.
I hope it works out for him. I'm still waiting for him and Woody Harrelson to do another buddy pic.


I've noticed something slightly disturbing in the men's bathroom on the second floor. The only reason I haven't mentioned it before is because of the outside possibility that I'm the only one seeing this.
Flies.
Flies in the Men's Room.
Not like a single fly.
A gang. (Anything more than like 3 is a gang, right?)
And not your average, ordinary, everyday house flies.
These guys are weird. Half flies.
They look like normal flies that have been through a chop shop or something. One day they're there and the next, POOF! No sign of them.
I've considered calling for a priest but I'll wait and see if the flies start talking.
Hand me the swatter, it's potty time.


F.Y.I. - I don't have the pic ready for the blog... one will follow as soon as I can get it scanned....

'Roids the Rage!!!

Sweet. Where can I get some? Apparently everyone is doing steroids now. At least according to the Albany Times-Union. Mary J. Blige was looking for a few more miles an hour on her fastball and had some 'roids sent to a nice hotel in Beverly Hills.
Are there any seedy hotels in Beverly Hills?
No, seriously.
Are there?
Can someone check that out and get back to me?
Rap star 50 Cent (pronounced fitty cent) , or the artist formerly known as Curtis James Jackson III was also named in the same report. I did a little digging on Google and yep, sure enough, I found proof that he must have been doing something.
I gotta admit, replacing the eye glasses with the contacts makes him seem more serious.
Wyclef Jean, Timbaland, Tyler Perry among others were named in the report.
Wait a sec...
Tyler Perry? Steroids? HGH?
Impossible.
Now estrogen....
So I was wondering if perhaps, I don't know, maybe someone other than Minorities were named in the report? Sylvester Stallone was the only non-minority named in the article so an effort to remain fair and balanced I am going to just toss a few names of people that have to be using something and what I think they are using.
Proof? Who said anything about proof?
We don't need no stinking proof! This is America.

Demi Moore: She's 45. Looks 25. Need I say more? I could say more but would any of you actually be reading? No,. you'd be staring at Demi.
It's like I'm talking to myself.
Yo, hey, over here.
Nevermind.
Moving on...

Ashton Kutcher: No one really knows how old he is. Supposedly (according to wikipedia) he's like 29. Right. And Demi Moore likes him because of his brilliant intellect. Look, I have it on good information that the man is like 83 years old. He earned the Medal of Honor at Guadalcanal during the Second World War when he single handedly fought off a wave of Japanese infantry with a sharpened bamboo while simultaneously carrying Lee Marvin and Captain Kangeroo to safety.
Yeah. How do you explain that without drugs? Huh?
You can't.

John Edwards: This guy. Can we even call him a guy? He's holding a compact! I mean come on, that's gotta be a violation of the Man Code. Look, if he spends like $400 bucks on a haircut, he's gotta be doing some kind of drugs.
Four Hundred Dollars!!!
I could buy a metric ton of White Castle cheeseburgers for that kind of dough. I'm not even going to mention the TV show where he talks to the dead people.

Mark Wahlberg: I have no idea why he's on this list. I'm pretty sure he works out. Always has from what I could find out. In fact, he seemed to be a well liked and decent human being.
Pfft. He guilty of making a really bad movie.
Rock Star? Ugh. Awful, man... Just awful.

Once again I find myself shocked, amazed and appalled to find out that the folks in Hollywood would do something morally askew. Call me cynical, but where are the days of classy stand up Hollywood types like Rock Hudson and Errol Flynn?
You know, the man's man.
Huh?
What? Get out.
No. Shut up.
You've got to be kidding me...
Seriously?
Wait. Both of them?
Wow.
Okay, I guess Hollywood has always been a little left of normal. But if they were normal we never would have had film masterpieces like Howard the Duck, Waterworld (heh, heh, I just had to add Waterworld to my dictionary... nice) Showgirls and Ishtar.
Good times.
Aight Mary J, rock the 'roids and HGH and be proud. It'll keep you dancing on the ceiling into your 80's I'm sure. You'll be doing new brain implant iPod commercials in twenty years.

Big Girls' Do Cry...

Crying is in.
It's official.
And the best part is that you don't even have to be a girl to use it effectively!
First, Hillary takes a page from the Crocodile Hunter and gets all misty eyed about how tough the campaign trail has been.
Right.
It's always harder the third time around, right Miss Rodham Clinton?
Of course it is.
She knows better than anyone how hard it is to campaign and how hard it is to be in the White House. She's got more experience living in the White House than Dubya, you know, since he's always on vacation.
Because if you live in the White House you know what it takes to run the country.
Ask the Janitor.
He probably has a fantastic position paper on dealing with the War in Iraq and for solving the whole North Korea thing.
I saw a great blog post about Hillary's "qualifications" for President.
It makes a good point.
I don't buy the tears. Even if I was a Hillary fan (big surprise... I'm not) I don't think I could say they were genuine with a straight face.
Her acting skills are first rate.
She can still say she loves Bill with a straight face and if she can pull that off, she can do anything.
You know what? Upon reflection, she might actually make a good President.She could totally fake out other heads of state. Think about it. It would work.
"We think the United States should be doing more to combat Global Warming, Madam President..."
"It's hard... you know? Sniff, sniff... Those right wing nut jobs. Boo hoo. They make it hard to... sob.. get things moving. I want to make it better. I have to make it better..."
See?
That would be totally awesome.
I'd vote for her.
In a New York Minute.
(Of course, I would have to be like high on some new hard core super drug...Something that they need to tranquilize a rabid moose)
But we're not here to talk about Politics. That's another blog.
We're here to discuss crying.
Hillary used it to great effect last week and this week we get All World Wide Receiver for America's Team (who made that decision? when did we vote on that one?) the Dallas Cowboys Terrell Owens (number 81 in the playbook but number 1 in your hearts!!!!) turning on the faucets during the post mortem - uh, I mean post game news conference.
After a gut wrenching loss to the New York (nee. East Rutherford, New Jersey) Giants, little Terrell was weeping at the thought of the big bad sports writers picking on his... that's right yo, his.... Quarter Back, Tony Romo. I almost felt bad for the guy. Really. I almost did. When T.O. started talking about how he always has his Quaterbacks, uh, back... I just felt the love.
I wanted to give the big lug a hug.
He needed a hug.
Someone hug him.
Hug him already!
Oh, and by the way, crying over how the reporters might treat a male friend (and you being also a guy) gets you 5 points off your man card, T.O.
Doing in front of the cameras?
Just.... you know what? Yeah. Just hand it over Homie.

"It's not fair... it's just not fair...."

A Ton Of Bricks...

I am going to make a confession that is sure to shock, amaze and appall my friends and family.
I am not that observant.
Borderline dense even.
Sublte hints?
Nope. Can't help you.
Care for some gentle innuendo?
I'm married and I don't swing that way, sorry.
It's not that I'm slow and can't keep up. I'm basically just not paying attention to anything.
Oh, I have my lucid moments. Don't get me wrong.
There are those brief glimpses into the deeper working mysteries of men, women and the universe as a whole. When a thought forms and suddenly you understand some new truth about the human condition. Sometimes poetry erupts from the soul when I am in that moment. Sometimes I cry because I learn something profound about myself.
But most of the time I'm like fruit cake left out on the counter too long.
I miss hints and innuendo like left handed hitters flailing away at a Randy Johnson fastball, circa 1998.
For you non-baseball folks, he was that really tall, mean looking guy with the mullet that killed a pigeon with a fastball.
Oh yeah.
It's true.
You Tube it if you don't believe me.
Better yet. I'll hook you up.
'Cuz that's the kind of guy I am.



Isn't that something? You don't have to be a PETA Nazi to feel bad for the bird. That's a rough way to go. Obliterated on national television in an exhibition game. I mean, come on! Why couldn't he go out in style like in the All-Star game or during the World Series! He would have been like some sort of pigeon hero.
A legend!
Some days your the fast ball and some days your the bird.
Or you get flipped a bird.
Or the bird poops on you.
Or you are the bird and then suddenly out of nowhere a hawk comes swooping down and eats you alive on the window air conditioning unit of a Mid-Town Manhattan Skyscraper.
Too specific?
Eh.
Sometimes your the pigeon and sometimes you get to be the hawk.
You know what I mean.
The point is...Well, I don't really know what the point is.
What were we talking about?

Born To Be Alive...

Someone said it's a good thing when you wake up alive. I had to agree, 'cuz it sucks to wake up dead. If your already dead when you wake up in the morning, you already know how the day is going to go.
Down hill.
To quote a friend, it's like reading the last page of a novel.
I try not to do that, personally.
I might read the last sentence only because it usually doesn't make sense. It gives me something to look forward to.
You know... in case the book sucks but you can't put it down because you just have to find out how the dreadfully boring story ends.
Yeah.
But getting back to waking up dead, which is really a rotten way to start the day, what happens after wards? Don't all of the subsequent days have to suck too?
After a few days, you'd start to smell pretty bad what with the rotting flesh and all. Definitely creating tense and possibly even awkward moments when your among family and friends during the otherwise festive holiday season.
And who wants that?
Better to wake up while you're actually still living.
You what smells good though? Peanut Butter.
Mmm. Just had me a nice Peanut Butter Sandwich too. Toast, Grape Jam.
Good times. I prefer Peanut Butter when it's nice and hot and gooey. Get's all over your fingers and you end up having to lick your fingers clean.
I love Peanut Butter.
You know what? I take that back.
No. Not the Peanut Butter part. That part stays.
I mean that I actually did read the last page of a book once.
It was the novelization of The Empire Strikes Back.
I had to find the section where Vader lops off Lukes Saber weilding mitt. I had to know how you write something like that. That was some cold shizzle yo. I mean, I've gotten mad at my kids at times but...
Wow.
Hard core.
You know (speaking of funky odors...) that probably didn't smell too pretty. I know the wound was all instantly cauterized and what not, but they mentioned the smell of burned flesh and ozone in the book.
Yeah.
It was the first time I remember reading the word excruciating.
Great word.
It even sounds painful. Like you have to scrunch up your face when you say it.
Excruciating.
You can't say that word with a smile on your face. It automatically folds in on itself, you squint and you knit up the brows when you say it.
You have to.
Go ahead. Try it out.
Excruciating.
See? Weird huh?
I know.
May the force be with you.

Humping it...

It's Wednesday, hump day, and I am torn. I'm looking forward to the weekend already but when I stop and think about it, I can't really figure out why. It's not like I have some crazy party or weekend trip planned.
Although I still have time to do that.
Nah.
Too soon after the holidays.
People need some time to detox.
I've been meaning to throw a 70's style disco party. It's on the to do list.
But not this weekend. This weekend is all about taking down Christmas decorations and lights and cleaning up. I'll have to mow the lawn and wash the cars and I'm pretty sure the Boss Lady has a list of things that need to get done and none of them are fun.
So why, exactly, am I excited about the weekend?
NFL playoffs? Not really.
I only have one game with a vested interest and that's not until Sunday afternoon, East Rutherford Giants v. The Dallas Cowpokes or Cowhands or something or others.
Their name escapes me at the moment.
Anyway.
Despite the warmer weather, Baseball is still like 4 weeks away. It's warm enough to play softball but my rowdy weekend crew of drunken softball players have fallen off the map.
Or maybe I have. I don't remember.
I might try and call them this weekend and see if anyone is down to play.
Oh yeah. That's right. I used street lingo.
Down.
As in willing.
Check yo self, homie.
Meanwhile, as I sit and contemplate the forthcoming weekend bonanza, I caught a little of the New Hampshire Primary coverage. Looks like the crying game earned Hill a few extra votes.
A sucker born every minute.
I caught a part of Barak Obama's post primary speech.
I'm not much of a progressive. I'm more of a moderate with a dash of conservative politically so his politics aren't my cup of hot sauce.
Still. The guy is inspiring. You can't help but get caught up in the rhetoric. He's stirring, a commanding presence on the Boobie Toobie. But if I were running his capaign, I'd change his name to something cooler like, Jack Bobby King Kennedy Obama Jr. or something.
That's pretty catchy right?
Yeah. I can see the posters now.
Barak Hussein Obama just doesn't work. Really. I get the willies thinking about it.
I don't know about the whole experience factor. We keep voting in people that are experienced and then spend the rest of their terms griping about how they stink.
Washington insiders, blah, blah, blah.
Why not give a rookie a chance. What's the worst that could happen? Sure, Western Civilization could implode but honestly, with the writers strike dragging on and no new episodes of Heroes to look forward to, I'm pretty much ready to call it a day anyway.
In other news, I've been doing a little more of the video work lately.
Good times.
It get's my creative juices flowing. I have ideas for short films and features but I think I need to just get a super short film done just to go through the whole process.
I was thinking maybe a beer commercial gone wrong.
Yeah.
I think that works.

Heavily Laced With Tangents...

I had an interesting weekend. I read about how the north was getting blasted with cold weather as I stared out at the balmy 70 degree Florida sunshine. Sure, I could feel bad for the folks up north but it was so darn pretty outside I forgot to.
Shorts and flips-flops, people. Shorts and flip-flops.
Sometimes, I really love living in Florida.
So I was thinking that it's that time of year again. You know what I mean, right?
The New Year's Resolution crowd invades your local Gym.
For the record, I was once one of those people, but I have seen the error of my ways and now walk the straight and narrow.
At least as far as exercise goes.
I get up at 5'ish most days to work out.
I'm no health Nazi, mind you. I like food too much for that, but I do compensate for my eating with some needed cardio and weights and the like. When January rolls around, all the Gym regulars start getting twitchy.
Newb Season. (Not to be confused with n00b season... and yes, there is a difference)
All those folks who, in a fit of guilt from one too many pieces of holiday fruitcake, decide to come to the gym and gum up the works by taking all of the machines in random order. They usually don't have a clue what they want to accomplish and they end up lost.
What the do manage to do is throw everyone else off of their routine.
All the cardio machines being used. And not according to the manugfacturers established guidelines either. Weights? Strewn about like toys in the kids playpen at the local pediatric office.
Honestly. Can't you at least clean up after yourself?
The come in like deer out of the early morning fog. Not quite awake, not quite asleep. Really proud of the fact that they are there at all.
Nice.
Way to go.
You did it!
They sniff around the room and read the posters on the wall that show proper positions for stretching and working those deltoids. Ten minutes on the tread mill a few pumps with the 5 lb free weights and about 20 minutes trying to figure out how to change the weight amount on the nautilus machine (you pull the pin out from where it is and insert it at your desired weight...) and then, when they feel winded, the pack up and leave.
Sometimes, rarely, you'll see them a second day.
Last year we even had a few that lasted almost and entire month.
I wish them well but you know right off the bat who's going to last and who is going to fade.
Inevitably that usually means all of them.
I've never conducted a survey or a study, but I would guess that less than 1 in 20 actually stick with working out in the morning for any substantial length of time. Or even long enough to have an impact on their life.
Sad, but true.
This year has been light so far. I've only seen 3 gym newbs. They seem to have their stuff together so it hasn't been bad.
I'd high five them but they're not here at the moment.
I think that cold snap we had just after New Year's might have put the premature kibosh on the rest of the Resolution crowd.
(And before you get your thermal underoos in a bunch... it was in fact cold here. In the 20's! In Florida! Yeah, I can't believe it either!)
Did the pizza and movie night thing on Saturday which was kind of cool because instead of eating the pizza at home, we ended up sitting in the little hole in the wall joint for some freshness. I guess the crew that ran the restaurant weren't really used to dine-in customers. The accommodations were spartan to say the least but they really went out of their way to make us feel welcome.
Paper plates, napkin and those really high end red plastic cups.
No expense was spared.
It brought me back to my youth in NYC. Eating at one of the seven million Ray's Pizzeria and Delicatessens in the Tri-State area.
At least I think they were all Ray's. Might have been a Joey or Sal tossed in there too.
I think there was a Vito in there somewhere as well.
Good times.
The kids sort of wondered why we were sitting there instead of just taking it to go like we always do until the pizza showed up.
Then it was all about the Pizza.
Isn't it always about the pizza?
Don't forget to stretch yo.

Post Holiday Blahs...

It's Friday.
Normally a wOOt!-worthy concept. But my get-up-and-w00t! has-got-up-and-went. Where's a good freaking w00t! when you need one? I'm about ready to call in a beer strike.
It's like an air strike but with beer.
Short on the boom but long on the foam.
It's Friday. I think I might have mentioned that already. Friday on a short week no less and I am here pulling out my ever dwindling supply of hair and wondering what is taking 5 o'clock so long to get here. Did it stop for directions? Maybe it decided to pick up some take out for the ride home. Maybe it got pulled over for speeding? Or it could have that stomach thing going around and is currently curled into the fetal position at the closest porcelain throne.
Whatever.
Just get here already.

This wouldn’t be so bad if I had a few sharp pencils to flick into the ceiling tile. That would at least keep me entertained for a bit.
It’s not like I’m not working either. I am . Rendering video, posting web ads, checking my email and stuff.
Good times.
Really.
But it’s Friday. I know we just finished up the holiday season and all that but I spent so much time with family I need more time off.
You know how it is right?
Sure you do.
I’d play with my Christmas present, except I didn’t get one.
Not all that strange. Long story. No biggie really.
You’d think with my behavior I could have finagled a lump of coal or something.
That might have been interesting.

What makes it worse it that everyone around me has Fridayitis. They are all looking for a good excuse to cut out of class early. That leaves me with no one for desktop football.

I think I’m stuck in one of those Sci-Fi show time warp things where the good guys get stuck in some Ground Hog Day-esque loop that drives them batty.
It’s like the clock is permanently stuck on 4:15.
Crap.
I just looked at the clock and it’s actually 4:12.
I’m going in reverse.