Friday, March 18, 2005

We got our weekend up and going off in here, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Erin go blagh
Yesterday, St. Patrick’s Day, is the day everything turns green. Today is the day the people who celebrated St. Patrick’s Day turn green.

How thoughtful
Michael Jackson’s former housekeeper testified that drunk boys slept over at the Neverland Ranch. In fairness, maybe Michael was being considerate? He didn’t want those kids riding their tricycles home while intoxicated.

Two time liar
Rafael Palmeiro denied using steroids to congress. Palmeiro, however, does commercials for Viagra but publicly denies that he takes Viagra. So why would we believe a guy we already know lies about using a performance enhancing drug?

Should be a law
Two women have called San Quentin prison to propose marriage to Scott Peterson. In a fair world, any women that call to marry Scott Peterson should be legally required to be given O.J. Simpson’s phone number.

How stupid do you have to be to want to marry Scott Peterson? That’s like walking into an airplane bathroom right after Michael Moore. It’s suicide.

Now, Lex, was that nice?
Legal efforts to stop the feeding of brain-damaged Terri Schiavo failed yesterday. Here’s my question: why isn’t anyone trying to stop the feeding of Ruben Stoddard and Kirstie Alley?

It explains so much, like the mustache, for example. And those black shiny leather boots
Cinemax is producing a documentary that claims Adolf Hitler was gay. They might be right. You know why the Nazi army marched in goose step? Because Hitler was goosing them.

How can they prove Hitler was gay? Two words: That mustache.

Why do we call Adolf Hitler by his firsts and last name? If Madonna, Sinbad and Jared from
Subway Sandwich shops can be identified by just their first name, I think Hitler can.

Cinemax is producing a documentary that claims Adolf Hitler was gay. And there’s a book that claims Abraham Lincoln was gay. Personally, I’ve also suspected that George Washington was a transvestite. Why else would a guy wear a Barbara Bush wig?

Who wrote this sick, sick, joke? I want somebody’s butt in my briefcase
Some legal analysts suggest the Michael Jackson trial is getting away from the prosecution and the trial could end like a Neverland slumber party: Michael will get off.

Since you asked:
As you know if you’ve read this pathetic blog, I have my share of pet peeves. We all do, right? Four stick out in my mind today. A, I don’t like the Soup Plantation, B, I don’t like to go dancing, C, and I am not a fan of children’s parties and D, I don’t like fundraisers.

Now, my daughter and wife love the Soup Plantation and that’s fine with me. I’m not saying it’s bad or that people shouldn’t go to the Soup Plantation, I just find them depressing: people desperately and greedily stuffing themselves - and their unruly kids - to try and get their money’s worth of soup and salad at a glorified trough is not my idea of fine, or fun, dining.

Why don’t I like dancing? Because I suck at it, that’s why. Besides golf, I don’t like to do things I suck at. Dancing is a wonderful thing and I admire people who can do it, I just can’t. The same goes for rock climbing and skydiving. You like it? More power to you, I don’t like sky diving or rock climbing because, being nervous about heights, I would suck at them as well. At least with dancing, when you suck at it, you don’t hurtle to your death. Usually.

I don’t like kid’s parties. (The ones hosted at a kid's gym are OK) Don’t get me wrong, I like kids. Well, the good ones, anyway. Kids parties are always chaotic, loud and always too dramatic. And there is no wine. If you’re a friend of mine and you are hosting a kid’s party the nicest thing you can do for me is not invite me. Kids don’t like too many adults at their party so I am happy to oblige. Do I think kids should not be allowed to have parties? No. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.

Although I have M.C.’d my share, I don’t like fundraisers. Generally, most fundraisers are thinly veiled shakedowns, I don’t care how good the cause is. You want money? Ask for money. Don’t make me feel like a cheapskate because I don’t want to bid on the chance to stay at an annoying bed and breakfast. Maybe it’s me, but I don’t like going into the hall bathroom the next morning right after the winner of the Michael Moore look-alike contest comes out carrying the sports section. A lit match can only do so much.

So what are my plans tonight, you ask? I’m taking my daughter to dinner at the Soup Plantation and then we are going dancing at a giant kid party Daddy Daughter fundraiser dance. At least we’re not staying at a bed and breakfast.

But Ann Caroline is so excited (She has a new party dress and everything) I’m not even going to complain. (Oops, too late, huh?) Who knows? Maybe the deejay will play something from Hoobastank?

As the road manager for the Eagles, the great Tommy Nixon, once said:

“Life is just one $&#*ing thing after another.”