Friday, February 27, 2009

Damn Yankees

If you hadn't heard, Alyssa Milano is writing a book about baseball.

I know! No one told me that Alyssa Milano could write.

Sorry, that was just way too easy.

Now you may be wondering what qualifies her to write a book about baseball. That's easy--her breasticles. I'm just kidding. I'm sure she's a very sweet, talented, amazing writer. With fantastic fun bags that defy gravity.

Just take a look at that cover. See how they are trumpeting her vast qualifications and prior prose endeavors. That's some Grade A Marketing.

And check out that grueling book tour schedule. Four separate stores! And as far away as Brooklyn. So you can see why she's a Dodgers fan. They only left Brooklyn before she was born. I'm sure you can pick up that bit of history and other minutiae in the book.

But "Safe at Home?" Lame.

Here are some suggestions for the fine folks at Harper Collins who seem to be so quick to send a rejection letter when an aspiring author sends them a treatment missive. Or so I've heard.

Rejected Names for Alyssa Milano's Baseball Book
  • Who's the DH?
  • Players I've Banged
  • Embrace of the Umpire (both of you who've seen this sex fueled movie, you're welcome)
  • During Orgies, Players Must Remain in Batting Order
  • My Cousin Injected Me, But I'm Sorry Now
  • Getting to Third Base With Alyssa Milano
  • Bleacher Reacher Around
  • Not a Spitter
  • Is That a Cup or Are You Just Glad to See Me?
  • Alone on the Mounds
  • Bang the Girl Slowly
  • The UnNatural
  • Confessions of a Sorority Baseball Annie
  • Who's On Me First?
  • He's Scratching Because He Loves Me
  • Poison Ivy at Wrigley Field
  • Casey at the Bust
  • Los Angeles Lolita (Alyssa's finest role)
  • Bull Dunhim Already
  • Touch 'Em Both
  • Take Me Out and Ball Me
  • Don't Stop Unless You're Short

If I've somehow managed to overlook any of the esteemed work of Ms. Milano, mea culpa. Now I've got to go get a cookie.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Ground Control to Major Tom

If you hadn't heard, NASA is doing some renovations on the International Space Station.

And you thought you had trouble getting a repairman to show up on time at your house. Just think what a pain it is to get someone to show up in space. Just make sure you're there between 8 am and 6 pm. Unless there's traffic or a meteor shower, then all bets are off.

International space station? Yeah, I think we know who's doing all the heavy lifting on this one. How is that Jamaican Space Program coming again?

But NASA needs our help naming Node 3. You can vote for one of four names: Earthrise, Legacy, Serenity or Venture. Yeah, I know. Craptacular.

Luckily, you can also write in your own entry. Those engineer types clearly need some help. Here's what I'm going to be stuffing the ballot box with:
  • Red 5
  • Don't Trust Any Damn Dirty Apes
  • Hal, Open the Pod Bay Door
  • Attempting Re-Entry
  • NCC-1701E
  • Third Node from the Sun
  • Red Dwarf
  • Space Shittle
  • Moonraker
  • UNO (Unidentified Nodal Object)
  • Jane, Stop This Crazy Thing
  • Money Pit
  • Node Tell Motel
  • Attack of the Nodes
  • Plan Node from Outer Space

Yes, you can tell I've seen way too many Sci-fi movies.

And this post was a lot funnier in concept than it was in practice. Sorry, kids. That'll teach me not to drink and post.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

We Are Family

I think the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse must be saddling their steeds.

Because MC Hammer is getting his own reality series.

I won't bother to say, yes, that MC Hammer. Because like there'd be another MC Hammer.

And it's on A&E. A&E used to stand for Arts & Entertainment. That's been changed to Accidents & Egregious. And those accidents are train wrecks.

A&E is going with Hammertime for the name of the show. Boring!

Here are some suggestions for those clever folks at A&E.
  • U Can't Watch This
  • Parachute Pants Were Never InStyle
  • The Hammer Family Groove
  • Teenage Mutant Ninja Hammers
  • Too Legit to Work
  • Turn This Mutha Off
  • Please Hammer, Don't Sing Again
  • (Hocked All My) Platinum
  • Pray (You Can Find the Remote)
  • Vanilla Ice Said "Hell No"
  • Let's Get This Over With

Feel free to play along at home kids. I hope you appreciate how much intertube research I had to do to find more than the two Hammer songs I couldn't get the hell out of my head.

So take this.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Boom Goes the Dynamite

If you were watching last night's Gay Super Bowl, you might have noticed a Will Smith delivered line went waaaaay over the collective heads of the too-cool-for-the-room audience.

See Will was stuck delivering some technical awards. These are also known as the awards you shouldn't have to sit through: Special Effects, Editing, Director Fluffing, Sound Editing or something like that. Because Will was delivering so many awards back to back, he inevitably messed something up.

While stumbling over his lines and his inability to get out the word "outstanding", Will said, "Boom goes the dynamite."

Well kids, because you're my super secret special intertubes friends, here it is. You're probably only a sports geek if you got this one. Guilty as charged.

This guy makes Albert Brooks' network debut in Broadcast News look good.


Thursday, February 19, 2009

Rock Me Amadeus

If you hadn't heard about it already, Kid Rock is getting his own microbrew.

Yup, the Michigan Brewing Company is working on a craft beverage that captures the essence of Kid. Reportedly, it will be called "American Bad Ass."

Wow, is that craptacular.

They should have brought in some high powered PR Flack types to work on the name. Then they could have come up with something good.

Something like:
  • Kid Rock Doublebock
  • Malt & Barley Jesus
  • White Trash Hefeweisen
  • Miller Lowlife
  • Pambo-Ex Porter
  • Skeeveylicious
  • Loserbrau
  • Barely Avoid Jail Ale
  • St. Paulie Punk
  • Tommy Lee Can Suck It
  • Soundslike Shitz
  • Corona Cocky
  • Assaultaholic
  • Poncho Problem Porter

Feel free to play along at home,kids.

Whatever they name it, you'll be sure to be drinking it all summer long. Because I'm sure everyone wants to be just like Kid with the many wise choices he's made in his life.

At least he hangs out in Northern Michigan. All the cool kids are doing it.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Book of Love

So Sunday was a little crazy because as I'm getting older, I'm starting to forget things: passwords to various webtubes that require registration, how to dress properly, the library book I'm currently reading. But it's the last one that concerns our current tale.

On Sunday, I lost my book somewheres. No idea where.

Could have been the restaurant where the Wife and I engaged in public mastication. Of bacon of course. Or the dog park. Or the second dog park because there weren't enough dogs at the first park. Or the McDonald's where I had to pee from standing around in the cold for so long.

Now a slight digression. Lest you think the dogs are spoiled (they are), the dog park is solely self interest for us. First, we get to see other dogs on a purely physical basis. Second, our dogs get to sniff new butts and stop chewing on each other for almost a whole second. Third, by running around like maniacs for an hour or so, our dogs get tired and sleep for most of the day so it's like we don't have dogs at all. Except for the wet smell around the house. Yeah, this makes perfect sense.

Anyway, as the hounds were out and I wanted to read, I couldn't locate my book. Monday was spent retracing the steps to find the book. And calling the restaurant to see if anyone turned it in. Of course not.

Tuesday I steeled myself to go back to the library and fess up. I expected lecturing, recriminations, a cross exam by the Library Cop, some forms to fill out, coughing up for a new, replacement book and a notation on my permanent record that I was a scofflaw.

Amazingly, someone had already returned the Lost Book to the library.

I don't know which of my fellow Salt Lakers located the Runaway Reading Material and took it back to where it once belonged, but thank you. I know I wouldn't have done the same. I'd have turned it in to someone in apparent authority at the restaurant. Of course if I lost it in a parking lot or somewhere there might actually be no one to turn it into. But I probably wouldn't have let a library book discovery turn into an errand.

So now I've got to come up with some Random Act of Kindness or the gigantic wheel of Karma will roll back around and crush me under it. Karma, like gravity, is a harsh mistress. If I don't even the score, I'm doomed.

Maybe some situation will present itself like the convenient ending to a sitcom, but I'm not holding my breath. I've got to balance things out before I get screwed.

Any ideas, kids?

Monday, February 16, 2009

Cry Me a River

If you didn't get to catch it, here it is. Thanks to the power of TIVO, I got to see this the next day. Bless you Season Pass.

And if you ever think Jay or Conan or anyone can carry Dave's jock, look and learn.

For the record, I think this is a scam.

But I'm not willing to bet on whether The Wreslter 2 or rehab is next for Joaquin.

Sunday, February 15, 2009


By now you may have heard of the the calamitous national tragedy that faces our country. No, not the economy. We've known that's effed up for years and that no one understands it.

This is something important: the retirement of Brett Favre from the New York Bretts. Again.

Now I don't want to seem skeptical, but I seem to remember how this played out last time. And far be it from me to suggest that everyone's favorite gunslinging 39 year old quarterback has just figured out the best way in the world to get out of training camp.

This time there was no tearful press confernece, but Brett retiring is like when they used to put the cape on James Brown. He's been back more times than Jason.

No one really wants Brett to leave anyway. Not John Madden, not Frank Caliendo, not cornerbacks from the New York Giants. And let's face it, if the Lions are still allowed to be in the league, the Commish ought to force them to sign him as a free agent.

We know your shoulder hurts, Brett. But strap on the shoulder pain pump and take one for the fans. If Warner could make it to the Super Bowl at 37, just think what Brett can do at 40. How can we expect to enjoy football without that grizzled veteran improving while scrambling and then forcing one into double coverage?

Don't go, Brett. If only for the Wrangler commercials.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off

...but it sure the heck helps.

The wonderminds over at someecards have captured it exactly for me.
You should be doing this romance stuff all the time not just on Hallmark holidays. Especially now that football season is over.
Impromptu gifts are always a good idea. And will immediately make your mate/spouse/squeeze wonder why you're feeling so guilty that you sprung for a gift.
Don't worry kids. You can't win, but it's most important that you're trying to play the game.
Speaking of games, here's your pop quiz:
Women are to flowers as Men are to .....
a) beer
b) blowjobs
c) steak
d) sexy lingerie
e) all of the above
Enjoy the pressure-packed day!

Friday, February 13, 2009

On the Road to Nowhere

I will confess that whilst the Wife and I were watching the Dog Show this week, we were threatening our dogs with replacement.

"That's a Japanese Akita. I'll bet he's willing to work harder than some lazy American dog."

Our hounds can't even figure out how to turn on the expensive exercise equipment we bought them so that we don't have to go out in the cold to wear them out. Ingrate mutts.

Luckily, our hounds don't have a fey haircut that the other dogs can make fun of.

The dog that won Best in Show, Stump, is 10 years old. That's 70 in dog years. But I heard he's already got a 35 year old bitch now.

Enjoy the weekend, kids.

Now I gotta go add Best In Show to my Netflix queue.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

I'm Sorry

I'd like to apologize to all my fans. Both of you.

I've let you down. I've also let my team, my manager, my entourage the sport and the vendors down. I've also let my guard, defenses, firewall and pants down. Especially the pants.

I was young and naive. I felt the pressure to keep blogging every day. I had to meet the expectations of such a big contract. Especially since I didn't have one.

Yes, I've used performance enhancing drugs.

Typically, I would take a pharmacopoeia of pharmaceuticals and evenly distribute them on the floor. Rolling around on Vioxx, Levitra, Clearasil, Massengil, Leptovox, Echinacea, Fish Oil, Vitamin C, Cialis, Everclear, Valvoline VR1 Racing Oil, HGH, Progesterone, Testosterone and Pespi One never failed to inspire me. It was too tough to come up with all those boobie jokes on my own. And I lacked the confidence to think I could do it on my own.

But even though I used to cheat during the years of 2001 until 2003, I'd like to come clean and let everyone know that it's over. It's been just me since then. Sure I was lying to you before, but I'm telling you the truth now. You can trust me even though I've been named in the Mitchell Report, the McLaughlin Report, the Weather Report, the Book Report, and the Warren Commission Report.

But all the awards, the MVP's, the Pulitzer Prizes, sex with washed up pop stars and the endless whining for a big book, syndication, Google Ad, movie deal or some other way to cash in and sell out big time were all me. With a little help from my friends: Dave, Craig, Bob & Tom, The Muse, The Wife, the Hell Hounds, and especially Foster.

I'd just like to reiterate: I'm very, very sorry. That I got caught.

Now I'll be posing for some suitably contrite photos for the next five minutes. After that, I release the hounds.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Funeral For a Friend

Have you been in line at the checkout and the asshat behind you is so close you can feel his breath on your neck? I wanted to turn around and say "Listen. No matter what happens, you're next."

Bless you, Tommy for putting into words exactly what I was feeling.

That's why I shop online so much. That and having to actually interact with strangers. But I'm being forced to go to CrapCo--for information.

See the Wife went there and bought a 45 pack of peanut butter crackers for some reason. She may have thought we were going to be held hostage or snowed in or preparing for the rapture or something. I eat maybe 2 of these a week. So this package of peanut butter crackers should last until about the next Olympics.

But these are recalled crackers. Yes as part of the Great Peanut Butter Scare of '09, these are tainted. And theoretically Kellogg's is allowing you to get a refund at their swell customer service number at 877-869-5633. And they ask you how much money you spent on the crackers.

So this is your big chance to cash in. But I'm figuring they're not complete idiots. If they figured out how to completely automate the phone system so that you can't ever really talk to a person, you probably just can't make up a big, hairy round number and get away with it. So all you sucks who went for a million dollars for your answer are screwed.

That's why I figured I'd go to CrapCo's website and just find out how much the crackers cost and then add a handling fee, transportation fee, convenience fee, and undercoating fee to come up with some slightly exaggerated number that might still pass the straight face test.

Except CrapCo doesn't have the crackers on their site. But they do have caskets. Serial.

Why does CrapCo sell caskets? As a service to their members. Oh, that makes perfect sense then. It's not odd at all. It must just be me.

And CrapCo doesn't just sell caskets online, but caskets with expedited shipping. That's what happens when you don't have time to go to your local Casket Carnival.

Now I'll confess to never having planned a funeral. But I'm pretty sure I'd remember the casket. Because it'd be pretty embarrassing to be on the way to MeeMaw's funeral and remember that you need to all of a sudden find an internet cafe so you can order a casket for delivery that afternoon.

That's why I want to plan ahead and buy a casket now. You can probably fill it with ice and beer for watching the game. But those gunmetal grey jobbies are probably going to scratch up the wood flooring when the hounds start wrasslin' and moving furniture all over the place.

So if anyone knows how much a grundle of recalled peanut butter crackers should cost, let me know. Because otherwise I'm pretty sure that my crackers cost $2,599.99. Amazingly the same cost as the Edwards Casket. Or a really big tv. What a coincidence.

Message in a Bottle

I'm not ready for stuff to start talking to me and telling me what to do. That's what spouses and friends and acquaintances and random strangers are for.

My Whopper is apparently pissed at me. I didn't even know we were having a disagreement.

My Stylefeeder thinks I'm gay. Probably heard that from my Tivo when it started suggesting all those Bravo shows.

The Garmin lady is giving me that disapproving, resentful tone when she says, "recalculating" and emphasizes the cal syllable. That's code for "Why can't you follow simple instructions for heaven's sake?"

And now my fortune cookie is getting attitude.

At lunch yesterday: Work on improving your exercise routine.

Ow. That hurts. And Chinese food had always been there for me. I thought General Tsao had my back.

Well far be it from me to take advice from faux Chinese desserts. Next time, I'm just going to have Fong slip a diet pill into my Mu Shu Pork.

Monday, February 09, 2009

Stars Are Blind

I'm not sure why some people are famous.

It seems like people confuse fame with importance. A comedian once said famous people do commercials. Important people won't. (I think that was Scott Dunn but can't remember).

We used to have Zsa Zsa Gabor and George Hamilton. Zsa Zsa wasn't even in Green Acres. That was Eva. And other than Zorro the Gay Blade, I'm not sure what Georgie Boy did other than bring the tan to Hollywood.

Now we have Paris Hilton. And her wonderful music. Warning, the prior link may cause severe auditory damage.

But I think Paris may be back on the diet pills. Because she's also started a foray into scrapbooking. I'm not making this up.

The former Simple Life "star" has a line of scrapbooking, jewelry and fashion kits that were on display at a recent Craft and Hobby Association Trade Show. Wooky Entertainment from Canada has the full press release available at their site. Line of the release?

Paris' Creativity Collection was "conceived for sophisticated and savvy young ladies in search of trend and prestige." Wow, that's the epitome of the straight face test.

According to the article I read while attempting to keep from spewing my bacon all over the table in laughter, currently the kits are only available in Canada and part of Europe. Oh, you lucky Canadians!

Now far be it from me to tell a prestigious Canadian scrapbooking company whom they should base their new product line. But Paris brings a very unique perspective to any scrapbook about her life.

You'll want to be sure to include all of the following in your Paris Hilton scrapbook:
  • First Reality TV Show
  • First Failed Reality TV Show
  • First Sex Tape
  • First Sex Tape where you look bored
  • First Mugshot
  • First Media gaffe revealing your ignorance (Gordon Ramsay isn't the Prime Minister? Well, he should be.)
  • First Vodka bottle
  • Pictures of first party you're paid to attend
  • First Love (just pictures of Paris)
  • First accessory pet

I'm sure there are plenty of other things that go into a scrapbook. Luckily, I have no idea what those are. Chime in peeps.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Let's Get Political

More email from Crackberry 1.

I think the new gig is starting to take it's toll.


To: t2ed
Re: Stim Pkg

OMG. DC guys r ffd up! New plan is to make them pay their taxes. That'll stiml8t 3conomy.

Prtty sur I'm getting a Stlrs jersey when they visit. WooT! Bet ur jlous. :)




Friday, February 06, 2009

This is the End

Enjoy it this weekend, kids. Some see it as one last gasp. Others see it as one last torment. One final meaningless football game before the NFL comes to a close. And you thought you'd finally be free of the sporting events your spouse inflicts upon you. Bwahahaha. It never ends. That's right, you're going to be stuck watching basketball from here on out.
This weekend, it's the Pro Bowl. Arguably the most worthless of all of the celebratory sporting events.
And even thought it's worthless, you can still bet on it. That's right, you can take that bad advice you got last week to bet on the Steelers and turn your season around.
You really should be going to yet another football watching party. If you don't, the terrorists win.
Enjoy watching the millionaires going through the motions while you sit in an ice storm. Really, a power outage may be a blessing.
Top 10 Signs You're at a Lame Pro Bowl Party
10) Pre-game show consists of Matt Millen saying "Here ya go, ya humps."
9) The veggie dip is last week's dip that's turned
8) Squares in the pool only cost a nickel
7) Halftime show is a Dusty Springfield impersonator
6) Pretzel rods already have salt sucked off them
5) Non-alcoholic beer
4) Someone keeps asking what inning it is
3) Host serves sandwiches by hiking them between his legs
2) You spin a bottle and have to make out with John Madden
1) Overtime
Maybe if you're lucky, you'll get your own two minute drill at halftime, kids. Enjoy the game.

Thursday, February 05, 2009

The Lonely Goatherd

It's pretty obvious that Hollywood is out of ideas. Other than comic books of course. So instead of making movies about 60's sitcoms, it's time to start re-making movie classics. Sure they already re-did Psycho with Vince Vaughn and it bombed.

That's why we're re-doing a musical this time: The Sound of Music.

If you've never seen the Sound of Music, you really should get out more. But here's the much shortened version. A nun, Maria, becomes the nanny for a widowed naval officer with 7 children. Thanks to her amazing musical range, the entire family falls for her and they escape from Nazi's by hiking over the Alps.

We're going to update it. In this version, Maria is a former hooker, the kids are from an in vitro fertilization which went horribly well, and the naval officer is a former CIA agent (who may have had ties to the Nazis) turned aspiring, guitar-playing rock and roller. Think Pretty Woman meets The Rocker meets Indiana Jones.

The Nazis stay of course. They're practically orcs. You've got to have a cardboard cut out baddy. And we can probably work in a song called Nazi Boys to Janet Jackson's Nasty Boys.

But the showstopper is going to be Least Favorite Things. Thanks to Thom Schuyler for all the real work.

Tin foil toothpicks and hair in my salad,
When the computer says "password invalid"
Slick country music all tied up in strings,
These are a few of my Least Favorite Things.

Hitting my thumb with a twenty ounce hammer,
Seventeen, Hustler, The Nation and Glamour
When the mechanic says "new set of rings"
These are a few of my Least Favorite Things.

Microsoft Windows and internet chattin'
Men dressed like women and Knights in White Satin,
Cutting my finger while changing my strings
These are a few of my Least Favorite Things.

When the cat pees
In my wingtips
Or my girlfriend's purse
I simply remember
My Least Favorite Things
And then I feel
Even worse.

Slithering creatures and slipping transmissions
Speaking of snakes, did I say politicians?
When I'm asleep and the telephone rings
These are a few of my Least Favorite Things.

Musical parodies meant to be clever
Most of the music of Andrew Lloyd Webber
Losing the wedge from a new set of Pings
These are a few of my Least Favorite Things

Frozen fruit salad and bourbon with Pepsi
Pretty much everything finally upsets me
Every time Wayne Newton dances or sings
These are a few of my Least Favorite Things

When the dog craps
In the kitchen
I get really pissed
I simply remember
My Least Favorite Things
And I add it to my list.

I smell Academy Award. Especially when we get someone the kids go crazy for like the Jonas Sisters or Jughead Archuletta or Halley Montana or someone else I never listen to.

What's on your list, kids?

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Love Will Keep Us Together

It's almost here, kids. The favorite, completely manufactured holiday that you love to hate: Cupid Is Stupid Day.

You may know it as Valentine's Day. You're less educated friends may know it as Valentimes Day. I wish I were making that up.

Yes, it's once again your chance to fail at meeting your sweetie's expectations.

This primarily is for the men out there. Both of you. Because the pressure is on us. Women just have to show up with beer and get nakey on the 14th. We have to meet those increased expectations and have grand plans that involve romance.

I remember one Valentimes where the girl I had asked the girl I was dating what she wanted. She said, "I just want you to be extra sweet to me all day long."

"Flowers it is," was my reply.

I've since learned not to be so lippy around teh womenfolk.

It's best to just go with the most expensive jewelry you can afford, pretend you're listening while she's talking about feelings, and go to the drive through and do it bunches.

Gentlemen, there are several gifts you probably should avoid:

I'm sure there are others.

What's the worst VD gift you ever got? Or gave?

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Puff the Magic Dragon

By now, unless you're still in your post-Super Bowl funk, you've probably seen the picture of Michael Phelps hitting what the mainstream media is terming "a pipe associated with marijuana." Geez, people. It's a bong. You can say it. It's not like we're talking about sex in a grown up fashion or anything. Those words are still a no no.

As an aside, I'm too lazy to find that picture, steal leverage it, and post it here. Deal with it, pinkbellies. You'll have to make due with a link if you need to gaze upon it again.

I don't really get the furor over this. Wow, a 23 year old smoked dope at a South Carolina University party. How long has this been going on? The hallowed academic institution which gave us Hootie and the Blowfish and the Gamecocks has some hijinx going on there. Stop the presses.

The real story is whomever took the picture and ratted him out. I love the quote: If he continues to party like that, I'd be amazed if he won any more medals again." Yeah, maybe he can rest his head on the 14 he already has. Oh, and the big pile of money he's warned from his endorsements. It's not like Mikey isn't famous enough to just call up and ask for New York Yankees tickets and not score them. Or anything else he wants. Even if that is apparently just a Carolina co-ed.

Personally, I hope this gets some people off the fence about marijuana. I don't indulge, but I've known others who do. Like the Disney animators who did Fantasia. And if you can be an amazing athlete and hit the BC bud every now and then, who am I to tell you what to do. Maybe this will be the impetus to legalize it, tax it and get us out of the economic doldrums. At the very least it would spur sales of Twinkies.

Anyway, here's your list.

Top 10 captions for the Michael Phelps Bong Picture:

10) And you thought he only breathed water.
9) If I had to spend 8 hours in a pool all day, I'd be getting high too.
8) Is that a bong in your Speedo or are you just happy to see me?
7) Someone better warn the Olympic Snowboarding athletes.
6) I'm going to be on the box of Weed-Eze.
5) This explains the Guitar Hero commercial.
4) That apology his publicist wrote seemed very sincere.
3) I'm very, very sorry....I got caught.
2) Now we know how he was able to eat all that food during his training.
1) Dude, where's my medal?

Seriously, who's worked up about this?

Now I've got to get working on my Official Michael Phelps Breathe Right Training Bong. Look for it wherever hastily constructed products are sold.

Monday, February 02, 2009

Mother In Law

More email from my newest, bestest, Presidential Blackberry toting buddy.

OMG. MomInLaw driving me nuts. Constant reminder that most people still live under tyranny! Does the CasaBlanca have a dungeon?

Go Steelrs!!

Lurve, BO

Hope he at least got to watch the game in peace on Sunday. Who knew he was a Steelers fan?

This does bring up a related topic: the genius of Heywood Banks. And his song for the new President

President Obama, are you a super man?
I knew you had to deal with Iraq & Afghanistan.
The polar caps are melting, the economy is in free fall.
But now I hear on top of that
You're gonna live with your Mother in Law.

Mother in Law
Haw haw haw
Your Mother in Law
Your Mother in Law

Palestinians and Israel, India and Pakistan
That North Korea Elvis Dwarf, that wacko in Iran.
They will say "Let's be friends" cause they never saw
A man who could live in the same house
With his Mother in Law

Mother in Law
Haw haw haw
Living with your Mother in Law
Living with your Mother in Law

They're closing down old Gitmo. They're closing down that place.
Dick Cheney won't be around to splash water in their face.
But the Al Queda guys will confess
At the drop of a straw
Or we'll send them off to live
With their Mother in Law

Sunday, February 01, 2009

Game Day

From the geniuses over at someecards. They rock.