Is everybody happy*, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers?
Many feel Chaz Bono will be voted off “Dancing with the Stars.” Critics say Bono’s performance just wasn’t ballsy enough.
Top al-Qaeda leader, Anwar al-Awlaki, was killed by a drone missile; he was the leader and then he just exploded, experts are calling it almost Boston Red Sox-like.
Can you believe they just let a billion dollar unit crash to the earth like that? But enough about the Boston Red Sox, how about that NASA satellite that fell to earth?
The NBA season may be cancelled. This would resort in more unwanted pregnancies than all the storm-caused electricity black-outs combined.
Rumor has it Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore are splitting up; he wants to spend more time with other people, she wants to spend more time looking for the reading glasses on top of her head.
Ron Paul was against the assassination of al Qaeda leader, Anwar al-Awlaki. Paul feels the proper way to assassinate someone is to have them appear like a crazy old fool on televised debates.
First it was cantaloupe, then broccoli and now a shipment to lettuce may contain the deadly bacteria listeria. And yet pizza eaters continue to stay alive. See Mom? I was right.
In China they have an Obama Fried Chicken store with a picture of President Obama; the chicken is so good the customers are no longer ordering the cat.
Since you asked:
*Remember that awesome scene in “The Odd Couple” where Walter Mathau’s character, Oscar, leaves the living room to fix drinks in the kitchen for the the British blind date Pigeon sisters? And Jack Lemon’s character, Felix, starts to get weepy talking about his newly separated wife and kids? Soon they’re all reduced to sobbing over their lost loves.
Oscar comes back in with the trey of drinks and shouts;
“Is everybody happy?”
His adorable hound-dog face instantly melts from a huge smile to stunned disbelief.
Oscar says;
“What happened? I leave you for three minutes and I walk back into a funeral parlor.”
That’s what happened today after I dropped Ann Caroline off at school.
Ran into that really cute yellow lab puppy, Molly, and her owner and her friend and then I had to go and bring up putting Kasey to sleep. Told her how I feared for many years having to take Kasey to the place she hated the most: the vet, for her last moment. And how happy I was we found a vet who would put Kasey down in her, our, home.
When the vet got here, we let Kasey in, bless her heart, she scrounged around the kitchen and got one last piece of Trader Joe’s faux Cheeto hidden in the corner. We laid her down on her favorite spot on the Oriental rug by the French doors, there was a ray of sun beam warming her. We petted her, told how much we loved her and Kasey gave me one last lick-smooch on my left hand.
Then, peacefully, she went to sleep.
They gently put her on a little blue cloth stretcher with a white blanket tucked on her body just over her shoulders, her sweet little seal-pup head sticking out like the sleeping angel she is. We gave her a last smooch on the furry head and they took her away in the van to be cremated, her ashes to be spread in the ocean.
Kasey loved the ocean.
When I looked up, both women were crying like they were watching “Brian’s Song.”
We do what we can to start people’s day off on a happy note.
Listen, I studied enough of the genius behaviorist, Abraham Maslow, in college to understand that self-realization is the second-to-last step to enlightenment, or, as Maslow called it: self-actualization.
The needs, as Maslow placed them, are in order: physical, safety, affection, self-realization and, for a select few, like Abraham Lincoln and Flo, the Progressive Insurance lady, self-actualization.
And when it comes to participating in the “I am the world’s most perfect human being” contest, I admittedly dropped out a long time ago.
But when I saw the pictures from the 35th reunion, I actually started to sweat, I looked so bad. The words: bloated walrus came to mind.
Now, I admit I look like a 53-year-old light skinned person who has been in the sun too much due to track, windsurfing and surfing. And I confess to a love of grilled food, wine and cocktails.
But I can still run a good three miler. Can stand up paddle board surf hard for two hours. Can you hold the plank position for two minutes? No? Well I can. How many people do you know who can jump rope while on the Indo Board? Well I am one of them.
So why, in those pictures, did I look like Stephen Stills after a five-week donut binge?
Whatever the opposite of anorexia is, I must have it. Honest to god, my legs, arms, butt, chest and back all still seem and look to me, muscular. Yes, I have a much thicker gut now, but I didn’t think it was that bad.
It’s that bad.
That’s it. That sound you heard is the gauntlet being tossed to the ground. It is no longer a question of; “Oh, I am going to run a little more.” Or, “Maybe I’ll cut down on snacks.” Or, “After Christmas I am going to get serious.”
This is war. It is official, I am on a nutritional and exercise routine that is a part of my life, like playing harmonica is a part of my life, like surfing is now a part of my life, like writing comedy is a part of my life, like calling Wrigley ridiculously goofy baby-talk nicknames, like Mr. Snickers hound-doggy, and doodle-drawers, and Otis-T cuddle bunny, is a part of my life.
Hey, fat and bloated? You called down the thunder, well you got it. And hell’s coming with me. Hell’s coming with me.
But maybe a snack and a nap first. I need to be rested.
Many feel Chaz Bono will be voted off “Dancing with the Stars.” Critics say Bono’s performance just wasn’t ballsy enough.
Top al-Qaeda leader, Anwar al-Awlaki, was killed by a drone missile; he was the leader and then he just exploded, experts are calling it almost Boston Red Sox-like.
Can you believe they just let a billion dollar unit crash to the earth like that? But enough about the Boston Red Sox, how about that NASA satellite that fell to earth?
The NBA season may be cancelled. This would resort in more unwanted pregnancies than all the storm-caused electricity black-outs combined.
Rumor has it Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore are splitting up; he wants to spend more time with other people, she wants to spend more time looking for the reading glasses on top of her head.
Ron Paul was against the assassination of al Qaeda leader, Anwar al-Awlaki. Paul feels the proper way to assassinate someone is to have them appear like a crazy old fool on televised debates.
First it was cantaloupe, then broccoli and now a shipment to lettuce may contain the deadly bacteria listeria. And yet pizza eaters continue to stay alive. See Mom? I was right.
In China they have an Obama Fried Chicken store with a picture of President Obama; the chicken is so good the customers are no longer ordering the cat.
Since you asked:
*Remember that awesome scene in “The Odd Couple” where Walter Mathau’s character, Oscar, leaves the living room to fix drinks in the kitchen for the the British blind date Pigeon sisters? And Jack Lemon’s character, Felix, starts to get weepy talking about his newly separated wife and kids? Soon they’re all reduced to sobbing over their lost loves.
Oscar comes back in with the trey of drinks and shouts;
“Is everybody happy?”
His adorable hound-dog face instantly melts from a huge smile to stunned disbelief.
Oscar says;
“What happened? I leave you for three minutes and I walk back into a funeral parlor.”
That’s what happened today after I dropped Ann Caroline off at school.
Ran into that really cute yellow lab puppy, Molly, and her owner and her friend and then I had to go and bring up putting Kasey to sleep. Told her how I feared for many years having to take Kasey to the place she hated the most: the vet, for her last moment. And how happy I was we found a vet who would put Kasey down in her, our, home.
When the vet got here, we let Kasey in, bless her heart, she scrounged around the kitchen and got one last piece of Trader Joe’s faux Cheeto hidden in the corner. We laid her down on her favorite spot on the Oriental rug by the French doors, there was a ray of sun beam warming her. We petted her, told how much we loved her and Kasey gave me one last lick-smooch on my left hand.
Then, peacefully, she went to sleep.
They gently put her on a little blue cloth stretcher with a white blanket tucked on her body just over her shoulders, her sweet little seal-pup head sticking out like the sleeping angel she is. We gave her a last smooch on the furry head and they took her away in the van to be cremated, her ashes to be spread in the ocean.
Kasey loved the ocean.
When I looked up, both women were crying like they were watching “Brian’s Song.”
We do what we can to start people’s day off on a happy note.
Listen, I studied enough of the genius behaviorist, Abraham Maslow, in college to understand that self-realization is the second-to-last step to enlightenment, or, as Maslow called it: self-actualization.
The needs, as Maslow placed them, are in order: physical, safety, affection, self-realization and, for a select few, like Abraham Lincoln and Flo, the Progressive Insurance lady, self-actualization.
And when it comes to participating in the “I am the world’s most perfect human being” contest, I admittedly dropped out a long time ago.
But when I saw the pictures from the 35th reunion, I actually started to sweat, I looked so bad. The words: bloated walrus came to mind.
Now, I admit I look like a 53-year-old light skinned person who has been in the sun too much due to track, windsurfing and surfing. And I confess to a love of grilled food, wine and cocktails.
But I can still run a good three miler. Can stand up paddle board surf hard for two hours. Can you hold the plank position for two minutes? No? Well I can. How many people do you know who can jump rope while on the Indo Board? Well I am one of them.
So why, in those pictures, did I look like Stephen Stills after a five-week donut binge?
Whatever the opposite of anorexia is, I must have it. Honest to god, my legs, arms, butt, chest and back all still seem and look to me, muscular. Yes, I have a much thicker gut now, but I didn’t think it was that bad.
It’s that bad.
That’s it. That sound you heard is the gauntlet being tossed to the ground. It is no longer a question of; “Oh, I am going to run a little more.” Or, “Maybe I’ll cut down on snacks.” Or, “After Christmas I am going to get serious.”
This is war. It is official, I am on a nutritional and exercise routine that is a part of my life, like playing harmonica is a part of my life, like surfing is now a part of my life, like writing comedy is a part of my life, like calling Wrigley ridiculously goofy baby-talk nicknames, like Mr. Snickers hound-doggy, and doodle-drawers, and Otis-T cuddle bunny, is a part of my life.
Hey, fat and bloated? You called down the thunder, well you got it. And hell’s coming with me. Hell’s coming with me.
But maybe a snack and a nap first. I need to be rested.
posted by Alex at
11:48 AM
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