How I Can Live Without You?

It's being widely reported that actress Nicollette Sheridan and shiatty singer Michael Bolton are no longer engaged. This after they were dating, split up, then got back together a few years ago. So take this with a grain of salt. Or maybe the whole shaker.

Wow, if these two crazy kids can't make it work, what chance do any of us have? Probably a pretty good one in my book.

Anyhoo, reps for the now defunct duo issued a statement tell this reporter that they have ended their engagement and "appreciate your respect for their privacy in this matter."

Despite this very sincere request, we did what we do best and put our Top Men on it. When they struck out, we just made stuff up. You know, per uzh.

Top Ten Reasons Nicollette Sheridan and Michael Bolton Are No Longer Engaged

10) She finally heard Percy Sledge's version of "When a Man Loves a Woman"

9) Her told her "The Sure Thing" was her best work

8) He always insists on watching Sunday Night Football instead of a certain other show

7) Her long monologues about the talent of Kenny G

6) Some loudmouth told her a round of golf should only take 4 hours

5) He always proclaims Dallas as the best prime time soap ever.

4) She keeps playing the Isley Brothers' "Twist & Shout" then asking sarcastically whether he's some up with any new song ideas

3) He thinks that Eva Longoria is real hot

2) At a recent celeb golf tourney, he was asked about his handicap and she mumbled under her breath "no talent ass clown."

1) Endless arguments over the conditioner

Have a good Labor Day weekend, kids. And don't do any work in support of our fine Union Brethren. Now get the hell over that bridge, Jenny.

Green Onions

Bless you, Onion. You put into words exactly what I was feeling.





Today Now!: How To Pretend You Give A Shit About The Election

I'm not sure I can take another 2 months of this.

Amazing Grace

Ya'll knows that I lurves me some bad Public Relations. And while it's a really moldy oldy, this might properly be classified as Pubic Relations.

See, Matthew McConaughey has a Mom. I know, I know. Hang on. It gets worse. And Kay McConaughey, that's Matthew McConaughey's Mom, has written a book. And by "written" we mean put her name on.

It's called I Amaze Myself. Which given the gene pool that generates naked, be-weeded bongo playing in the middle of the night, it probably isn't that difficult to amaze one's self.

The Pubic Relations gaffe here comes obviously when Kay was promoting the book. Here's the actual quote. I'm not even going to mess with it.

“On Monday mornings, he [Jim McConaughey and Matthew's Pop] and I often said goodbye by making love,” Kay McConaughey tells Us Weekly. “But one day, all of a sudden, it just happened. I knew that something was wrong, because I didn’t hear anything from him. Just nothing," she says. "But it was just the best way to go!”

Then when Jim was being removed from the house, Kay made sure paramedics did it while Jim was nude so she could show off his "gift."

Yes, I'm sure Matthew is quite proud that his Mom killed his Dad while they were having sex. Even more so that his Mom wants to show the world the size of his paterus endowmentus. I think this is starting to answer a lot of questions for me about both Matthew and Rooster.

But, in her defense, it did generate a lot of media interest. I just forgot that Moms got to be famous now because of their progeny. This despite the lessons of Jaqueline Stallone (and Rumpology), Dina Lohan and Momma Kardashian aka Kris Jenner.

After making you suffer through snot jedi-ing, I feel a little guilty. Not guilty enough not to have shared that snot adventure of course. But you're due for a treat.

So here's something for the ladies. Please do not drool directly on your keyboard.

Hey Aqualung

I don't know how I managed it, but I'm sickly. Yes, somehow in the middle of the desert, I've got a head cold with a runny nose that makes me look approximately like a glazed donut. I apologize to anyone who is attempting to eat a glazed donut this morning.

Luckily, I believe in better living through chemistry. So I'm hepped up on enough cold meds to stun a small elephant.

Let's see, currently we're mainlining Vick's Non-Drowsy DayQuil, Afrin Nasal Spray, Sugar Free Cherry Flavor Cold-Eeze, Lemon Lime Airborne, Echinacea (I have no idea if that's spelled correctly and I'm too sluggish right now to bother to look) and some bacon just to be on the safe side. I try to take just enough of the plethora of meds that it feels like that cute little gecko from the auto insurance commercials is taking some laps in my nasal cavities.

Despite my shotgun style approach to nasal congestion, I'm still runny enough to have some fun in the morning.

While dressing for work (hey, I'm a gamer. And I want to infect as many co-workers as possible to get back at the sonofabitch who gave this to me), I had to sneeze. Now I could tell this was going to be a biggie. Sometimes, you just know. Unfortunately, I was too far away from the bathroom to grab a tissue or even some toilet paper.

Sneezing quite forcefully, I involuntarily swung my hand up to about waist high. And caught a wad of mucus about the size of a quarter that had just left my nose.

Yes, I am a Snot Jedi.

Now I've got to go sneeze on some telephone handsets and lick a few keyboards to see if I can bring this department to its knees.

Today Is Your Birthday

If you were lucky enough to be born today, August 26th, you share your natal day with such luminaries at Macauley Culkin and John Wilkes Booth. Esteemed company indeed.

If that doesn't sober you up enough, go get your Birthday Astrology. Because that stuff really works. "Mercury is conjunct Venus, and both are in hard aspect to Pluto and Uranus, in your Solar Return chart."

Umm, I'm pretty sure I don't want any hard aspect to my Uranus. Kids, we can't make up stuff this goofy.

But the most important thing is that even if you look like hell in that harsh bathroom lighting, at least your kitty doesn't look like Yoda.

Because it's all about the kitties, all the time.

Red, Red Wine

Now I'm am not a wino wine connoisseur, so I'll confess to not being extremely well-informed on this topic. But I always thought wine came in a bottle. Or a box if you're a drunk on the go. Or a bota bag if you're at the football game.

So this, strikes me as a bit of overkill. It's called the Wine Rack and combines the best of both worlds: breasticles and vino.

Now I know that white wine is typically served chilled. And I've got to think that all that wine snuggled up against your body temperature bosom is going to get a little warm. So this is probably for a red. A full-bodied red obviously.

You fill up the fun bags (the other ones) with wine, and then use the little hose (again, the other one) to drink directly from the tap as it were.

Now obviously, this is a sweet product because you can literally have men lapping it up from you. And while they are getting their drink on, hopefully they'll be too distracted to notice that you're going from a statuesque Bacchanalian delight to a more petite sipping cup. But if men appreciate when you're cup runneth (or stuffeth) over, they might be a bit disappointed at the end of the night. Especially when the sweet booze runs out.

Frankly, I think this is how all drinks will eventually be distributed at Hooter's. Sure beats finding a bat in your bra though. But it eliminates the immortal line, "Is that a bottle of wine in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

But lots of the wineries are jumping on the bandwagon and making a vintage just for the Wine Rack. You knew we'd get to this, didn't you?

• Ernest & Julio Jiggler
• Woodhaven Wonderbra
• Viking Estates Valley Wonder
• Barefoot & Barebreast Cellars
• Pinot Evil Knockers
• Napa Valley Vineyard Naughty & Nipple-icious
• Da Vinci D Cup
• Senorio de San Vicente Sweaterpups
• Twin Valley Twin Tetons
• Casa Ravella Cocolicous
• Two Buck Chuck
• CK Mondavi Commando Nipples
• Whitehaven Winnebagoes
• Beringer Bodacious
• Jean Louis Vermeil Jublee Jubilee
• Clos Badon Thunevin Cleavacious

Feel free to play along at home kids with your favorite vinter or vintage or other lactation liquor. Myself, I'm a barley boy. But I can't wait for the Fantabulous Foster's.

Reason #623 to Love Utah

Reason #623 to Love Utah

Sex scandals with the grocery clerks.

Except she's 39 and the two men involved are 15. I think this may be the plot of a porno movie. Except they clean pools instead of bag groceries.

Even better, this is right around the corner from my house. Why do I think there are going to be a lot of men in the produce aisles next time I go shopping?

What are the Top Ten Pick Up Lines Used on Grocery
Clerks? You knew it would get to this, didn't you...

10) I've got a double bagger for you.

9) How'd you like to help me clean up in aisle 7?

8) Let's go warm up the meat locker.

7) Can you help me scan my zipper?

6) You don't need a membership card to save on these.

5) I've always wanted to do it on the check out conveyor belt.

4) That smock makes you look really hot.

3) Is that an inventory scanner in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?

2) Let's "Go Krogering" in the break room with the lights off.

1) Paper, plastic or latex?

Who knew the grocery store was such a cesspool of human lust? Probably anyone who'd ever been in line that long and was forced to read the Cosmo in the impulse item section.

Smoke on the Water

Sure Brett Favre may be able to heal small children just by letting him touch the seam of his game worn jersey, but let's see him try this.

Anything From the Smashing Pumpkins

Oh, Michigan. How I miss you sometimes.

Is it your felonious Playa Mayar from Detroit (only charged with 10 felonies) or your leading the nation in both murders and #2 in home foreclosures or that your City Council is under FBI investigation? Maybe it's all of them that makes you so fascinating and interesting and horrible at the same time.

So this little true crime tip comes to us from far off Lansing where a woman was crushed in a trash compactor at a Goodwill store.

It seems Tyree Monique Tate was fleeing from the authorities after shoplifting some stuff from the TJ Maxx at the Lansing Mall. Unfortunately, she chose to hide in the trash compactor outside the Goodwill store. What could go wrong with that plan? I guess she couldn't get the door to the incinerator open.

I'm pretty disappointed in the Lansing State Journal though. They just went with "Woman dies of injuries after being crushed in trash compactor" for the headline.

They really missed an opportunity here.

How about:

• Good Will Crunching
• Shoplifter Flatlines
• Crook Flees TJ Mash
• Cops Take Out Shoplifting Trash
• Cops Capture Compaction Criminal
• Flatfoots Field Flattened Felon
• Women's Family Crushed by Accident
• Police Pinch Planar Perpetrator
• Good Guys Grab Garbage Getaway
• Pressing Engagement with Justice
• Police Put the Squeeze on Scofflaw

I'm sure there are others. And hey, if you can't have a little fun with a future Darwin Award winner, who can you make fun of?

Everything's Better When Wet

I've not watched a jot of the Olympics. It's because I'm protesting the Chinese treatment of Tibetan refugees.

And because I hate all the sports.

Except for basketball which is seemingly only played at 4 a.m. And the fencing which would be even better if they didn't have all those sissy pads. Come on, let's see some bloodshed for crying out loud.

Anyhoo, I know there was a bunch of hubub, bub. Michael Phelps won everything. I still liked this story better when it was Mark Spitz.

But do the men know they're wearing women's suits?

I saw some highlights on ESPN and wondered if they were showing us swimming footage from the 1920 Olympics just to see if anyone was paying attention. They had everything but bathing caps on.

What is all the furor over the swim suits? It seems like if you really wanted to be fast in the water, you'd just go nakey. Wouldn't that cut down on drag the most? It couldn't hurt the ratings either. I'm buying Sony stock because I figure a lot of tv's are going to need replacing from all the women folk who've been licking the screen over the last two weeks.

And we'd win more medals because the Chinese men's team would be too ashamed to get in the pool

Fly Like An Eagle

If you haven't heard about it, some peeps who play the characters at Didneyland got arrested. They were protesting something or other. I don't really care what, but the pix they took as they were arresting the characters are the funniest things ever.

If you don't think a picture of a handcuffed Peter Pan being put into a squad car is hilar, you might want to find a tall, tall building.

And you'd better hope you have some Pixie Dust.

Sure hope Tink can bust him out of the joint.

Tutti Frutti

I apologize in advance for my descent in the mad vortex that is my darker half. Why did a hell trip to Boston evoke this?

I'm trying to put the dark thoughts out of my head without actually drilling a hole in my skull. So many bad ideas, but I think the one I like the best is rearranging all the strollers at Disneyland that are parked outside the rides. Imagine the chaos.

Or a stuffed albino alligator for the Thanksgiving centerpiece.

How about sending a copy of Enhance Your Self Esteem to Terrell Owens?

Matlock videos to John McCain?

Yeah, I didn't say they made sense. I just said they were evil.

Anyhoo, it was with slightly less evil inside of me that I drove to work today. That's before I saw the saccharine sweet couple driving next to me. She was feeding him fruit while they drove. With her fingers. Then they'd kiss at the stop lights.

Which is when they finally saw me sticking my finger down my throat and making gagging faces.

Of course if I could get the Wife to feed me bacon while driving to work, I'd totally be in for the carpool all of a sudden.

Come On People Now

I don't know exactly when I crossed over to the Dark Side. Maybe it was that final flight from Dallas to Salt Lake. The one where I was in the last row of the plane between the galley and the bathroom. Where the smell of ass combines with microwave chicken fajitas (available for the low price of $7) and the chair doesn't actually recline. And I got to sit next to a poor, poor mother travelling with a newborn.

And when Mommy saw me in the aisle attempting to wedge my ass into some semblance of comfort in the shiat seat I had been provided, she perkily chimed up with, "Hi, I'm in the corner."

So I countered with the only thing I could come up with after a day of being pummelled by the tragedy that is air travel in this country:

"No one puts baby in the corner."

Yup, a Patrick Fucking Swayze line actually came out of my mouth.

So I've decided to let go my anger.

And when the fine folks at Unicef sent me this while I was gone, I had only one response.

Oh, sure, they probably don't actually figure people are going to check the boxes and send it back to them. Maybe someone in their direct mail department will get a little chuckle out of this.

From now on, I only donate to cheerleader car washes.

Highway to Hell

Hi, kids. Long time no write. I know, I know. But I just got back from Boston but no my arms aren't tired. Just my patience. The next time Envirocon asks me to go on a trip for them somewheres, someone make sure to kick me in the ass. Hard. That'll prepare me for the experience.

So I have to leave God's Country to go amongst the heathen and bring them enlightenment about affiliate marketing. Yeah, go figure. But a gig's a gig. And when your former boss's boss asks you to go, you don't ask a lot of questions. Well, not if you're smart. And we all know I'm not, so I kept my piehole shut and booked my last minute reservations. Through JFK.

Now I've done enough business travel that I never go through two airports: JFK and Ohare. And Hartsfield Jackson may soon get added to that list. But I didn't have an option, the direct flights from SLC to BOS (Banish Our Souls) were full. So Noo Yawk it was. Except that when I got to the Big Crapple, my plane was cancelled.

But that's okay because those same swell, friendly, helpful folks at Delta were willing to put me on the next flight to Boston. Which left about 24 hours later. And since I was going to Boston for a three day conference and I was having to travel there the first day since I live in the mild, mild West (and who starts a conference on a Sunday?), blowing off the second day whilst I diddled my thumbs in New York didn't seem like a good idear.

So our intrepid reporter (man I love hackneyed cliches like that but know I should avoid them like the plague) acted rapidly like the seasoned, grizzled, beaten-down travel veteran I am. I hopped a train to Boston. And other than forgetting that Grand Central Station and Penn Station aren't the same thing, I was fine. I'm such a Country Mouse sometimes. Hey, a train's a train, right?

Anyhow I finally got to Boston only about 7 hours after I was supposed to thanks to the fine people at Amtrack. Unfortunately, my luggage was still in New York but the fine folks at Delta assured me it would be there when that next day's plane arrived. Except it wasn't.

Now I have been travelling enough that I always carry a ditty bag (not a P. Diddy bag) with extra essentials like toothpaste, contacts, meds (I needs my Thorazine or I get snippy), skin care products and the like. I've learned that the hard way. So when I was faced with three days in Beantown and some humid conditions, I was less than enthused. The fine Delta people assured me my luggage would show up the next afternoon. And by "afternoon," they meant before 6 a.m.

So I replenished my supplies of clothing in the hotel gift shop. Hey, I wanted to wander around the conference in a sweatshirt that said BOSTON anyway. Though on the streets of the rougher parts of town, I might as well have been wearing a sign that said TOURIST - TAKE MY WALLET.

And you have not lived until you've watched Sportscenter in high def while you wash your socks and shorts in the bathroom sink and dry them with the hair blower. Classy.

Luckily, my luggage finally came the last day of the conference just in time for me to leave. And though my flight out of Boston was delayed 7 hours, I managed to escape with my dignity battered but somewhat intact. And at least I finally had clean underwear on. And there's nothing like clean underwear to improve your disposition. Other than a quick tour of Fenway Park when you're supposed to be sitting in a seminar about the Top 5 SEO Strategies.

Just a bit of advice for you fellow Country Mice out there. Take the Green Line to Kenmore and walk away from the Citgo Sign unless you're lucky enough to catch the D then you can get off right at Fenway. The Citgo Sign looks a lot closer to the Green Monstah on tv but it's really a couple of blocks away.

Or so I've heard. As far as you, and my former boss's boss, knows.

Moondance?

Reason #107 to Love Utah

Naked Jogging

Seems down Sandy way, a naked jogger has been running by a women's health club at about 7:00 am.

Now I knew we had some business who were allowing the no pants in the office, but I think this may be a bit more than they bargained for.

The jogger is described as being is his 60's (sorry for putting that image in your head ladies) and sporting a green baseball cap worn backwards. I hope he's also wearing sunscreen. There are some things you don't want burned. Of course, I'm talking about his nose. As far as you know.

Quote of the Story: "Witnesses were not sure whether the man was even wearing shoes."

Hmm, wonder why they don't know if he's wearing shoes? You'd think they'd have gotten a pretty good look at him. A really good look as he came by and actually knocked on the window. "Hey, how ya doing? Doesn't this look more fun that running on a treadmill?"

And I can wonder is where do you keep your keys if you jog naked?

Penny Lane

Whilst my mind was still reeling from the most important news ever (and Chad, don't let the door hit you in the butt) on the drive in to work today, I couldn't help but notice the swell fire engine red Nissan Maxima next to me was drifting into my lane. Now as there are actually three lanes to choose from on this particular stretch of the highway to hell, I thought it odd that someone would suddenly choose my lane for their fine driving experience.

So I glanced over at my colleague in commuting and noticed that she appeared to be both texting on her Zeno and putting on mascara. What's that? A Zeno isn't a portable communications device, it's an acne treatment? I thought Zeno was just some crummy philosopher, so what do I know. Stupid liberal arts degree.

Anyhoo, because I noticed my fellow driver seemed somewhat distracted by her multi-tasking, I gave a friendly little toot of my horn to alert her to the impending predicament. Immediately realizing how helpful I was being, she responded by leaving my lane and the close proximity to my vehicle and veered across her lane and narrowly avoided a brush with disaster on the other side of her car. In all the impending excitement, I believe she may have even dropped her Zeno and mascara brush.

Because we were luckily soon stopped at the very next light (because the helpful people at UDOT like to make sure we have all the latest technology so that we never miss the opportunity to sight see at the latest flora and fauna development at every possible stop light on our commute), we all could collect our breath and have a hearty chuckle at our collective experiences which only made us enjoy every precious moment of life even more. Luckily, I love the wind in my hair so I had all my windows down and my fellow commuter could see me shaking my head back and forth as I had so greatly enjoyed our adventure together.

She must have been really having trouble finding that mascara brush she dropped as she responded by giving me the finger. Now this is not a gesture I am unfamiliar with as Michigan drivers are also very expressive. But as I had been driving in my lane only and not attempting to use two lanes where clearly one would suffice, I may have responded by yelling back at my fellow driver. Kids, don't try this at home. Because I have been trained in media relations and understand communications theory, I know the right thing to say to put fellow drivers at ease. Unfortunately, this was a morning commute and I wasn't fully engaged to respond with the appropriate amount of tonguefoolery to which you and I are typically accustomed.

Instead, I yelled out the first thing that came to mind:

"Sweet Baby Jesus loves you!"

My fellow driver was so stunned by this expression of love that she merely waved and smiled instead of pulling the gun which she surely had in her glove compartment.

And that's the moral of our story, kids. Just act like a crazy person and others will leave you the hell alone. As I soon have a plane ride in my future, I look forward to responding to the inquiry whether anyone is sitting here with the phrase, "Just me and the Lord."

Drive safe. And try to stay in your lane on the way home.

Rag Doll

I love bad marketing ideas. From New Coke to the Nova for Mexico they never grow old. So I give you Dominatrix Barbie.

Okay, that's not what they're calling her. Mattel Marketing Weasels are claiming that's someone called Black Canary who's supposed to be a superhero. If she's a superhero, how come she doesn't have a movie out this summer? Come on. I'm not falling for it and neither should you.

Zoom your Panasonic camera in on that outfit over there. Does that say "crime fighter" to you? All that outfit needs is a whip.

I'm sure the stilettos are great for chasing down evil doers. Although given the way she's dressed, at least the villains are going to have trouble running away from her.

And the black mesh stockings? Yeah, those will stop bullets. And how about a skirt for crying out loud? Barbie's going to get a little cold on those late night stakeouts. Maybe she can cuddle with Batman to keep warm.

Well, at least the new collectible Barbie isn't life sized. Dang, I just gave some Mattel Marketing Weasel another idea.

Personally, I can't wait for Obama Girl Barbie.

He's Got Legs and He Knows How to Use Them

Reason #258 to lurve Utah

We're not wearing any pants.

Richter7, an advertising agency in Salt Lake City, this summer introduced a no-long-trousers policy.

Because a swell look like that says "advertising edginess."

And douchebag, and asshat and punch me in the neck.

Hey, even the United Nations is getting in on the act. Of course with all that hot air, their probably generating all the greenhouse gas emissions in NYC anyway.

I'm sure while you're sporting those sexy shorts and your Bluetooth headset ensemble no one will be snickering at you. As far as you know.

Does anyone else remember when Dave used to get a bullhorn and yell out the window, "I'm not wearing any pants!" Man, I loved that. We thought that was hilarious and used to yell it out the window of a car while we were driving around. Because we were driving too fast (as teen scofflaws are wont to do) we had to shorten it to just "No pants!" Yeah, it loses a little something at 59 miles per hour.

Hot Chocolate

If you're offended by this, get over it. It's just a joke.

I don't know how the subject came up, but I suddenly thought that the phrase Chocolate MILF would be a good name for a rock and roll band (hereinafter "GNFARRB").

Then I thought a better idea would be a t-shirt of Michelle Obama with the caption Chocolate MILF would make a jillion dollars.

Until the cease and desist order arrived.

So I'll have to make due with this:

Chocolate MILF

And in the interest of equal time:

White Lightning

And if we sell both shirts, we can accurately predict who our next President is going to be to a margin of error +/- 50%. That's just slightly better than Fox News. Zing! See, I'm an equal opportunity offender.

Have a good weekend, kids.