Tuesday, February 08, 2005

When we do what we do, we do what we do when we do it, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Hate to hear that
Some sad news. Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey are rumored to be calling their marriage quits. When asked if she thought they might get an annulment, Jessica said “I don’t think a foreign car is going to help at this point.”

First Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston broke up, now Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey. What does it say about Hollywood when the most solid celebrity marriage is Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston?

Last night on “The Tonight Show” did you see Kevin Eubanks get dunked in that huge tank of Chowder? That was nothing. After the show, their guest, Kirstie Alley, ate all of that Chowder.

City of Brotherly Depression
Philadelphia Eagles fans are taking their Super Bowl loss to the New England Patriots hard. To show how depressed they are, today, in downtown Philly, a six-year-old orphan dropped his lollipop and not one single bystander even bothered to boo him.

Too far
This Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction backlash has gone too far. Today at Mardi Gras in New Orleans, instead of flashing their breasts, women will only be awarded beads if they sing “Hey Jude.”

A four-year-old boy tried to drive a car to a video store. Can you imagine how dangerous that is for a four-year-old to drive? Why, he could have accidentally driven into Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch.

That is dangerous. Imagine if the child accidentally drove himself over to a Catholic Parish?

We can only hope
Palestine and Israel have agreed to a Middle East ceasefire. Now with temporary peace in the Middle East, who knows? Maybe, after this, we can work on ending that even more complicated and bitter feud: Britney Spears versus Christine Aguilera.

In retrospect
Terrill Owens showed a lot of guts playing great in the Super Bowl on a bad ankle. Remember that Terrill claimed god helped him heal? Apparently while god was healing him, Terrill forgot to ask to let the Eagles win.

Too many models
It’s fashion week in New York City. There are so many super models in New York this week, Hillary Clinton had to put Bill Clinton under house arrest.

Did you see that Super Bowl commercial with Burt Reynolds and the bear? You could tell it was fake. If the bear really had kicked Reynolds in the groin, Burt’s toupee would fly right off.

Since you asked:
Got the FAX back working today but then the email went out again. What the . . .? And the printer still don’t work. But that is alright, you know why? I got an awesome recipe for pork chops. Oh, yeah, apricot and brandy glazed, brine marinated grilled pork chops. So tender they are pork chops you can fork chop. A little rice pilaf, grilled zucchini and Bob’s your friggin’ Uncle.

Got up this morning (Lex, why are you suddenly singing the blues?) at the usual six a.m. and our six-year-old daughter’s light was on, excuse my preposition. Normally Ann Caroline doesn’t get up until 7:30 when it gets light, so I ask;

“Why is your light on?” She looked at me for a second and said matter-of-factly:

“So I can see.”

New Pet Peeve Update:
Growing up one of the few really lazy people in the Midwest, I got tired fast of working for real task-master whacko bosses on their OCD power trips to play general. Especially this one dick-head restaurant owner I worked for briefly.

“Dammit, don’t stand there, if you’re not with a customer, start scrubbing the ceiling.”

That gets real old.

Having said that, it would have been more natural to take flight with my arms then it would have been to continue standing around if a customer was standing there waiting. Plus we would have been reamed-out like sorry goats if we had.

Well, maybe I’m turning into a grumpy guy, but it seems like whatever retail store I walk into, I am greeted – or more accurately, not greeted - by a large group of employees all standing around looking at each other. And not just at Blockbuster. Maybe this is an age thing, but it this generation Y or generation Why? Hello? What am I, wood? Chop, chop. Customer here. And when you’re done with me, start scrubbing that damn ceiling.