Dog Eat Dog

There are many things I've learned from my numerous visits to the dog park. For those of you not encumbered with a hairy dependent (and when is he going to get a job?), a dog park is a fenced-in enclosure where you take your beast so he (or she) can sniff many strange butts and run to his (or her) heart's delight so that he'll sleep the rest of the day.

But it's always fascinating to see people interact with their pets. Or their masters as the case may be.

There are some things I've learned from my time at the Park d'Poo:

1) If you name your dog Dimebag, you may be giving a little more information about your lifestyle than you originally intended. Especially when you're yelling "Dimebag, come Dimebag" at the top of your lungs.

2) If you hand out personalized pens while you have a bag of poop in your other hand, don't be surprised if no one hangs on to the pen for very long. And you're obviously in very desperate need of clients.

3) If you bring a puppy, two dogs, and two kids to the dog park on your own, don't be surprised if you can't keep track of them all. That's a 5 on 1 zone, baby. Even when the older son picks up a rock and throws it at the head of the younger one. Don't worry, ma'am, I've got the puppy. You just try to get some care for that scalp wound.

4) Scalp wounds really bleed a lot.

5) Kids with scalp wounds should be used in lieu of car alarms.

6) Dogs who hear car alarms (or kids that are louder than car alarms) can immediately evacuate their bowels even if they are running at full speed.

7) Guinness the Wonder Dog has the prettiest eyes ever.

8) But his kisses are a little too wet for my liking.

9) If you have two dogs of the exact same breed and exact same color and you can't tell them apart, don't expect me to either.

10) Labradors have the most drool. Even when running at full speed.

You Take the Notre, I'll Take the Dame

College football season is finally upon us. I don't count that first week because none of the games count as they're all just blow outs. Unless you go to Michigan. Then it's something you'll just agree to never talk about ever again. And you'll never vacation in the Appalachian Mountains.

But if you encounter someone in a bar and he's wearing a t-shirt of the rival school, you don't need to tear his scrotum off. Yes, I'm talking to you Deacon Allen Beckett. Apparently, the Deacon (who is an Oklahoma Sooner fan) got into a bit of a scrap with Brian Thomas (the scrotee) who was wearing a University of Texas shirt.

Quote of the story: "The police report described what happened to the victim, including graphic details about his injuries that included a torn scrotal sack with partially exposed testicles."

The Deacon's attorney said ole Deke isn't even a die hard fan. Can you imagine what he'd had done if he was a big fan? Things might have gotten out of hand. Or maybe that's in hand. I wonder if either of these guys owns the official collegiate wall sconce for his school? I'll bet the scrotee won't be wearing those baggy cargo shorts anymore. Of course, he may not be able to now. He'll probably have to go with Capri pants from now on.

If you're scoring along at home, that does count as a sack for Texas. No word on whether the Deke did a little dance after the incident.

And remember, if a testicle goes into the crowd, it's yours to keep.

Go Get Dora

I don't wish to speak ill of the deceased allegedly deceased, adventurer Steve Fossett, but I used to always think the same thing whenever I heard about one of his latest attempts. Remember, if he makes it, So What!

Oh, I'm sure circumnavigating the globe in a solo, high-air balloon was a fabulous triumph of the human spirit in the face of adversity, but is anyone really taking high air balloons for travel anymore? You've got to respect jillionaires with a death wish. At least his beneficiaries do....

Steve has gone missing in Nevada and the Civil Air Patrol is currently searching for him. Good luck with that guys. There's a lot of open space in Nevada. That not counting the Venetian hotel.

Boy with Fossett and Pavarotti going right now, I'll bet Abe Vigoda is staying home tonight.

Summer Love

This is what happens when too many meds meet too much daytime tv.

To the tune of Summer Nights from Grease (which is even better with Legos):

Summer cold my nose had a blast
Summer cold hit me so fast
Got a virus wife brought to me
An evil virus, it waylaid me

Summer days blowing away
to oh oh the summer nights
Well-a well-a well-a huh

Tell me more, tell me more
Did you get very sick?
Tell me more, tell me more
Like was your mucus thick?

Hit the workplace, infected all
Sneezed on office desks and bathroom stall
I spread my germs, they'll get it soon
Enjoy the illness, you're gonna swoon.

Summer cold, never gets old,
but oh oh the summer nights
Tell me more, tell me more

Were you coughing some too?
Tell me more, tell me more
Please your illness review

Had a fever of 103
Lots of aches down in my knees
Stayed in bed, felt just like shit
Couldn't sleep, my head's gonna split

Summer sick, cold you can't kick,
but oh oh the summer nights
Tell me more, tell me more

All that phlegm make you gag?
Tell me more, tell me more
Cause it sounds like a drag

Felt real weak, couldn't drive a mile
But I love that Nyquil green smile
Take your meds, make the room spin
Now my nose, it has no skin

Summer chills, take lots of pills,
but oh oh the summer nights
Tell me more, tell me more

How long can you live on soup?
Tell me more, tell me more
Think I may have the croup

Felt so colder - that's where it ends
But my doctor she recommends
That I stay here in my bed
Pretty soon I will be dead

Fever dreams and Vaporub creams,
but oh those summer colds
Tell me more, tell me more.

Songsational New Jersey

If you haven't heard, New Jersey has fixed everything and is now looking for a State Song. In fact, Jersey is the only one of the 50 states that doesn't have an official state song.

You may remember when Jersey was taking suggestions for a new State motto. The winner was "What're You Looking At" after it narrowly beat out "You Didn't See Nuthin" in the online vote.

Apparently the highly-esteemed Jersey legislature (4 weeks without an indictment) voted Red Mascara's "I'm From New Jersey" as the State Song but the Governor wouldn't sign this very important step forward for the New Jersey Citizenry into law. So it's only the unofficial state song.

The legislature did agree that every high school graduate is to be given their very own piece of travelpro luggage. So they can get the hell out. And a road map to New York.

But until the various sides can put aside their partisan politics and address this divisive issue, here are some suggestions for Jersey:

• Blinded by the Blight by Bruce Springsteen
• Big Girls Do Cry (especially if they live in Jersey) by Franki Valli & the Four Seasons
• Wanted Dead or Bayonne by Jon Bon Jovi
• Surfin' Ho-Ho-Kus by the Beach Boys
• I Don't Want to Go Home by Southside Johnny & the Asbury Jukes
• Lyndhurst is My Lady by Frank Sinatra
• Lullaby of Bay Head by Sarah Vaughan
• I'll Never Fall in Lodi Again by Dionne Warwick
• After You've Gone to Glassboro by Count Basie
• If You See My Barnegat Light also by the Count
• Every Ghetto, Every City by Lauryn Hill
• Squeeze the Trigger by Ice-T

Wasted Days, Wasted Nights by Freddy Fender was rejected as Freddy isn't actually from the Shore. I'm just kidding Jersey Boys & Girls. We kid because we care. Kinda.

I'm sure I've missed a few so feel free to play along at home, kids.

Go, Meemaw, Go

If you're a burglar in St. Petersburg, Florida, and are thinking about a little b & e, stay the hell away from Shirley Ives' house. Because she's got an ice pick and she's not afraid to use it.

Dion P. Sooko found out the hard way when he broke into Shirley's house and she had to "give him a little nick."

I think she should set up her home lighting and put that pick on display. Let any burglar who gets in see it in bright shiny light and know she's going to carve her initials in their chest if they mess with my girly Shirley.

And now she's got a taser as well.

Now these are the kind of feel good stories we ought to see in the news every day. I love stories about old people kicking unsuspecting criminal ass. In fact, that would probably be a great tv series. We could dig up Angela Lansbury and let her go medieval on some young punk each week. That would be a lot better than just solving some mysteries.

Too Late

I recently got a graduation announcement in the mail. Granted this is from a family member I know so it's not particularly surprising it took her 90 days after the graduation event occurred to get her shit in gear.

I mean you need to buy the announcements, get stamps, address them all, make a subtle plea for continuing educational resources.

But what is the statue of limitations on graduation announcements?

Now it's not like this young lady just graduated from Harvard. It's a lesser institution and I'm fairly certain she was not so besieged with job offers that she's just now getting around to the begging task at hand.

I mean, what's keeping anyone from saying, "It's been 15 years since I was in school, but I'd like some cash or at the very least a nice pen I can lose in a couple of weeks from you." Though they'd probably have trouble losing this.

I'm definitely sending a check instead of cash. There's good chance she'll lose it.....

Keep On Truckin'

In Berlin, 10 extras were hurt on the set of Tom Cruise's new movie, Valkyrie, when they fell out of a truck. No word on whether there was a truck bed liner. Typical shoddy journalism.

Nice try, Sweet Baby Jesus. But we want you to smite Tom Cruise not just some unsuspecting extras who had the misfortune to be cast in this turkey-to-be. Although to be sure, anyone who contributes to a Tom Cruise movie isn't innocent, but it's a degree of assbaggery. If you can take Tiny Tommy out (and granted he's got to be a very wee target from up there in heaven), it'll nip it, nip it, nip it in the bud.

This way, they'll just round up some other unsuspecting extras (like Andy Millman) and stick them on the truck. Please, SBJ, go for the teeny, tiny jugular if you're looking for something to smite.

Everyone Knows It's Lindsay

Exploiting the problems of someone else is cruel and heartless. Luckily, Cruel & Heartless is the name of Paul & Storm's classic rock cover band.

To the tune of Windy (with apologies to The Association)

Who is the red head, Hollywood starlet?
Living a life that's consequence free.

Who keeps tequila in the Mercedes?

Everyone knows it's Lindsay.

Who hasn't made a good flick since Mean Girls?

Who's making Paris and Brittney look sane?

Who's room in rehab has a bartender?

Everyone knows it's Lindsay.

And Lindsay has bloodshot eyes

Give Lindsay some Biggie Fries

Cause Lindsay has two big thighs

And a spoon up her nose

A spoon up her nose

A spoon up her nose

That's where it goes

Who took a spin when she had been drinking?

Who had a pocket filled with cocaine?

Who's headed for some time in the pokey?

Everyone knows it's Lindsay.

Who maybe should have hired a driver?

Everyone knows it's Lindsay.

These Shoes Are Made For Walking

I know they have distressed jeans, distressed hats and even faux distressed sweatshirts.

They need to start selling distressed Air Jordans. While my new kicks are swell, they look too new.

I want some shoes that look like His Airness has already played in them.

And I'd like to have them already be broken in. Cause if you're running errands in blinding white shoes, you really ought to be wearing black socks up to your knees and plaid shorts hiked up to your nipples. That's always a good look. Even better if you're an older gentleman.

Is there a good way to break in shoes that doesn't require breaking your feets? I usually just wear them around the house. I don't understand how sitting around watching tv breaks in shoes, but that usually works for me.

Getting My Kicks Off Route 66

Many thanks to all for the nice words about my BIL. It was a really weird time. It wasn't a funeral, it wasn't a memorial, it wasn't a wake, it wasn't a party. There's no noun I can think of for sitting around with strangers who were acquaintances of someone you were related to by marriage. There's got to be a sniglet for this kind of event. I shook so many hands of people I didn't care about, that could probably run for mayor.

While I haven't attended many funerals (probably only 3), I did realize some things:

1) A great way to kill any conversation you don't want to have is to tell the speakee that you're travelling for a funeral. I'm using this on every plane I ever take again.

2) My brothers will never get along.

3) My parents continue to shrink. I think they're going to implode and just vanish at some point in the future.

4) Robert Montgomery Knight (also getting screwed on his flight in the Minneapolis airport) is bigger in person than he appears on tv but sounds exactly like he does on tv. Yes, my brush with greatness. I figure he was headed to Bozeman, MT for a little fishing and not a recruiting trip.

5) The graffiti at the bar I used to go to is still great. My favorite was "Don't let me get naked and don't let me start a tab." That's good advice, kids.

6) If you're having to "play a zone" while on the plane, you should be driving. "Playing a zone" is when the kids outnumber the parents. You can't cover them one on one, so you've got to go zone.

7) When did the airline industry become so cash-strapped that they figured the $2 they could get for a can of Pringles would put them over the top? I didn't see many takers either. If they're going to charge $5 for an alcoholic beverage, there really ought to be naked people on the plane.

And while I was gone on the death run, I did get my my swell new Air Jordan kicks. Mars Blackmon and Turtle ain't got nothing on me.

I'll bet I can dunk again. As far as you know.

Lesser Known Tucson Facts

I had forgotten that in 'Zona's Southern Capitol, there are some strange things going on.

1) There are an abundance of shitty, little apartments because of the school and the Air Force base.

2) If you are a realtor, you have more clients than actual houses to sell in Tucson.

3) If you're in a bar and your shirt says "DOUCHE" on the front, of course it will say "BAG" on the back.

4) The best restaurants are the ones where you're the only white guy and the menu is in Spanish.

5) It's a dry heat; even if it is 105 F. You're oven on "LOW" is also a dry heat.

6) Old people can't drive. No matter what state they're in.

7) "I drink to make other people interesting" will always be my motto. Thank you Bob Dobb.

8) Your city should have more than 4 streets than run North to South.

9) If it's 80 degrees when you wake up, you're going to need antiperspirant for your balls.

10) When it rains in the desert, it'll be fun when you sit outside. Even if you aren't afraid of lightning.

To Scotty G

I don't like to talk about my family that often. First, they're crazy. Second, you don't know them. And stories about people you don't know make me bored when I have to listen to them. So bail if you want to now.....

But sometimes this here blog isn't about my adventures fighting crime or boobies or the non-relative crazies in Ohio. So this one is for me. Yeah, just like most of the jokes.

My brother in law just passed away. He was pretty fucked up from a long illness and had a bleeding esophagus that they couldn't repair. So he went into Hospice Care on Tuesday and was gone in less than a day. So for a memorial service, I'm going back to 'Zona, 'Zona, 'Zona. I'm going back to 'Zona. I really think so.

And because you never knew my BIL Scotty G, here's a few stories that may help you get him.

He coined the phrase "The Outlaws" for all the poor people who made the poor choice to marry into our family. At family gatherings, he used to take all the in-laws together for a quick beverage. The Outlaws tended not to understand how a euchre game can dissolve into a shouting match, cursing, new partners and still be a great time.

Once we rented a houseboat on Lake Powell. We had beached it for the afternoon and were sitting on deck. One fly kept annoying us. Scotty kept trying to swat it and missing. I explained to him that fly eyes are so complex and their brains are so small that if he wanted to catch it, he needed to put his hands on both sides of its head with two piece of Kleenex and they'd just vapor lock. He ignored Mr. Science's advice and continued to swat at the fly ineffectually. I finally got up, got two paper towels, approached the fly like I'd told him and killed it on the first try. His response, "Fucking college kids."

During one family gathering, we had some wine, but no one had brought an opener. Scotty swore that if you wrapped a towel around a bottle and hit it at just the right angle, the cork would shoot down into the bottle and you could drink it. Two shots to a supporting pillar later, the bottle broke and wine spilled all over the deck. Scotty's response, "Why don't you people just drink rum & coke like I do?"

When Scotty owned his own business, he named it Scott Free Enterprises, Extremely Limited.

He used to call everyone "Chief" when he didn't know someone's name. This was especially amusing when we were driving through Arizona and asked for directions. Seeing Scotty's face as he realized he just called a Native American woman Chief was priceless.

It was a lot easier typing these stories than it will be telling them while choaking back the tears at the memorial service. Bye, Scotty. I'll miss you.

Cleavalicious

As the self-proclaimed Poet Laureate for the Cleavacious Adjustable Bra, please enjoy this latest bastardization edition. Remember kids, great art (shut it) isn't meant to be read. It's meant to be performed. So feel free to bust this one out for your office mates. I'm sure they'll thank you for it. And you're on your own for the choreography.....

Cleavalicious (to the "tune," such as it is, of Fergalicious)

Listen up kids,
Cuz this be it
The song that I'm stealin'
Is Cleavalicious.

Cleavalicious definition make them boys go loco
Want chest treasure
So they get their pleasures from my demo
You can see the girls,
Relaxing at day.
I ain't easy,
I ain't sleazy
But the girls are up at night.
When boys just want to play.

Cleavalicious (Clevalicious)
But I ain't promiscuous
And if you was suspicious
This chest ain't fictitious
I just adjust it (lifting)
That shows the girls off rock, rock
And they be lining down the block
Just to watch what I got (four, tres, two, uno)

Cleavalicious (They're hot, hot)
Cleavalicious (I put the girls up rock, rock)
Cleavalicious (they wanna see what I got)
Cleavalicious (l-l-l-l-l- lusty busty)

Cleavalicious def-, Cleavalicious def-, Cleavalicious def- [def fading echo]
Cleavalicious definition not about where the Browns play
They always claim they know me
Comin' to me call me Stacy (Hey Stacy)
I'm the K to the A, R, E the Y the W
And can't no other lady invent it like me

I'm Cleavalicious (so delicious)
My body stay auspicious

Don't go to the doctor for a chest that is judicious

Be my witness (oooh wee)

I put yo' bra on rock rock
And boys be lining down the block
Just to watch what I got (four, tres, two, uno)

So auspicious (It's hot, hot)
So auspicious (I put them up rock, rock)
So auspicious (Boyz wanna see what I got)
Cleavalicious (strap strap strap strap strap up, check it out)

Baby, baby, baby
If you really wanna boy
Honey get this new bra
And then he'll be your toy
You'll look tasty, tasty,
It's not lined with lacey
You'll look so tasty, tasty,
It'll make him crazy.

C to the H to the E S T Y girl you chesty,
B to the U to the S T and Y girl you busty
D to the E to the L I C I O U S,
to the D to the E to the, to the, to the, hit it

Whenever I lift them up
Always brothas come close up
Always looking at my cup and down
Checking out my (uuhh)
I just wanna show them now
I ain't tryin to cause a scene know what I mean
I don't wanna take your man
And I know I'm comin off just a little bit stuck up
And I keep on repeating how the girls gonna lift up
But I'm tryin' to tell,
That I'll be treated like a bombshell
Cuz' they say she

Cleavalicious (So propitious)
But I ain't promiscuous
While raisins are nutritious
This chest ain't fictitious
I just adjust it (heft)
That shows the girls off rock, rock
And they be lining down the block
Just to watch what I got (got, got, got)

Four, tres, two, uno
My body stay auspicious
Even though these lyrics
Are quite repetitious (ooh wee)
I lift the girls up rock rock
And they be coming down the block
Just to see what I got (four, tres, two, uno)

So Cleavalicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
So Cleavaliciou (aye, aye, aye, aye)
So Cleavalicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
I'm Cleavalicious, ch-ch-ch-ch-ch chesty, chesty
It's so delicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
So repetitious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
And pernicious (aye, aye, aye, aye)
I'm Cleavalicious, t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t (aye, aye, aye, aye)

K to the A to the R E Y and W
Girl you smart,
K to the A, to the R E Y and W
Girl you impart
K to the A to the R E Y and W
Chest work of art

K to the A, to, R E Y and W

Not so hasty

K to the A, to the, to the (four, tres, two, uno)

Least I can spell tasty.

Please pity me for how many times I had to listen to that song on You Tube. And be glad I pitied you and didn't embed it. Mea culpa indeed.

Girls Gone Nationwide

I've written previously, lobbied for, and even waxed poetic about the greatest bra in the world, the Cleavacious. And yes, that is the best interactive product demonstration ever at their web site.

You may remember the adjustable Cleavacious. As one verbally gifted user said, "I love the fact I have the option - during the day you keep the girls in, and at night you break them out." As I'm not a personal user, I'll have to take her (and many anonymous commenters) word for it in the absence of photographic proof of people "breaking them out."

Flack & Proud recently got an update from the Best Inventor in the World, Karey Weyenberg about the amazing, adjustable Cleavacious bra.

It's now available online at Jaque Pennay, in New York at Macy's in, in California at Bloomingdales, in Chicago at Lord and Taylor. Next week the Cleavacious conquers Boston. In fact Karey even emailed me with the following:

I want to let you know that back in the day I really appreciated your "support" at a time when I needed an "uplift." I pray our product "blossoms."

Hey, Karey, I make the lame boobie jokes 'round these parts.

Now let me bounce another great idea off of you. You've heard of the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile. How 'bout the Cleavacious Winnebago? We can help educate the 85% of the female population who wear the wrong sized bra.

I'll drive around the country handing out Cleavacious bras and compile my "research" of before and after pictures and personal stories about how the Cleavacious changed women's lives. It'll be like a Extreme Makeover Breasticle Edition. And people can show how much they love their magic Cleavacious bra by showing it to the Winnebago when it comes to your neighborhood!

There's got to be some way I can horn in on this because Cleavacious Poet Laureate hasn't really taken off like I thought it would.

Keep On Truckin'

If you've got 30 large burning a hole in your pantaloons, feel free to go make a big on Tony Soprano's SUV. Cereal, it's available over on eBay.

You might think it's all fun and games to drive Big Tony's former ride. But there are some quirks to the vehicle:

• CD stops before completion of any Journey song
• Interior smells of cigar smoke
• Driving a former Mob Boss's car is probable cause so you're going to need good truck accident lawyer to get you out of all those scrapes with the Jersey Polices
• Trunk smells like corpse and has mysterious "mud stains"
• Some bullet holes in driver's rear quarter panel
• Plenty of head room for the girls from the Bada Bing
• Numerous spaghetti sauce stains on upholstery
• Various bullet casings under carpeting
• Car shimmies when going faster than 90 from when he ran that guy down
• Shotgun blasts in ceiling are not technically an after market "moon roof"
• Trunk can be opened from the inside
• Explosive devices occasionally discovered underneath chassis
• Pieces of Phil Leotardo's brain stuck in tread of right front tire
• A.J. will consistently ask to borrow it
• Steering wheel doesn't feel right without a pinky ring

Head over and get bidding kids. I want to cruise down to the Stone Pony in style.

Spinning Wheel

In England, 51 year old bachelor Robert Stewart has been accused of having sex with his bicycle while staying in a hostel. This is actually part of the plot for Hostel 3: Further Degradation?

Mister Man claims he was intoxicated and it was all just a misunderstanding. He thought the bike was at least 18 years old. I don't think this is the kind of bike riding you're supposed to do if you want to get into shape.

While I'll leave the "technical matters" of exactly how one has sex with a bicycle (try getting that out of your head the rest of the day) to the perverted imaginations of the interwebs, there's a lot of unresolved questions in this story.

1) Does he have to register as a sex offender?
2) Must he live at least 500 yards from any bike shops?
3) Is he technically a pedalphile?
4) Was the bike asking for it with that loose chain?
5) Is he prevented from attending the Tour de Drugs France?

6) Is his favorite movie Breaking Away or Pee Wee's Big Adventure?

7) Does the sound of a bell ringing arouse him?

8) Was it a men's bike or doesn't he swing that way?

9) Would a tandem bike make it a menage a trois?

10) Did he have to wear a helmet to make it safe sex?

11) Is he allowed to visit his training wheels without supervision?

12) Did he lock up the bike or isn't he into S&M?

13) Does he have a tattoo saying Schwin?

14) If he rides a unicycle, does that count as self-pleasure?

15) Was he wearing something white at night?

There may be more, but that should get you started.

Movin' Right Along

I couldn't help but notice as I ran to the local Target (that's pronounced tar-zhay), that the assbag in front of me had a mattress on his car roof. Now, that's not a site that's completely unusual in this here nape of the woods. It could have been worse; he could have had Century furniture flimsily secured to the top of his car.

But he also had his hand out of his window and appeared to be holding onto the mattress. And even though we were in a 45 mph zone, he was doing a stately 30.

It wasn't completely unsecured. He did have what appeared to be one bungie cord around it. Which he may have been holding onto with this other hand because it appeared as if he was driving with his knees as he veered back and forth erratically.

I wondered to myself what type of Mattress Emergency would have required him to immediately move this piece of a box springs set. Maybe he was some kind of superhero with lame powers like Matter Eating Lad? But instead he was Mattress Man and wherever unwanted house guests were, he'd be there. Drunks on the floor? Use the Mattressignal and Mattress Man will swing into action with his 1987 Plymouth Reliant K car.

Now I will confess that my experience with driving with a load not properly tied down is limited to John Cusack's classic delivery of that line in The Sure Thing. I minded my own business and did not attempt to engage in any vigilante justice up to and including a Citizen's Arrest.

So it was not completely expected to me that when our Intrepid Driver attempted to make a left turn, the mattress spilled out onto the pavement. And because I had the top down and couldn't control my laughter, I was a bit surprised when he gave me the finger.

Yup, I'm the assbag for laughing at you. It's not the One Hand One Bungie moving method that deserved derision. Mea culpa, Mattress Man.

Hot Stove, Cool Music

While some people are off gallivanting, some of us are stuck in our house waiting for the Appliance Man to show up.

Wife and I have one of those swell stoves with no burners and no range hoods. That's because the people who owned this house before us were loaded and couldn't possibly be bothered with anything except the latest appliances.

And those appliances are swell until they bust.

All that glass on top of the stove cracks from thermal heating and then you need to contact NASA for the part. And apparently they ship a glass stove top without any padding and are surprised when it shows up busted. Glass breaks? Who knew? So then you get to request the part again which adds another week to the process.

I think the best part is that they let you know they'll be at your house between either 8 and 12 or 1 and 5. You've got to agree that a 4 hour range is pretty big. I'm not sure why they just don't tell you the time will be "When We Freaking Feel Like Showing Up."

Would you ever accept that answer from anyone else? If your best friend told you they'd meet you somewhere for dinner and it would be between 5 and 9, you'd tell them to go to hell. But you have to take it from these guys. Just like you had to take care of the broken counter top that showed up and that they wouldn't even haul away. But you have to take it from the Appliance Guys because there's nothing you can do.

Nothing except order a third counter top and see how much you can get for it on eBay.

Reuinited and it Feels So Bad

I completely missed that the Spice Girls are getting back together. That's probably due to clean living, but I've must not have been clean enough. They're currently planning on doing 14 whole shows. Wow, I guess I forgot that there are only 14 cities on the entire globe.

I can't remember who's in the Spice Girls. I know there's Posh, Scary, Sporty, Old, Chlamydia, Oregano and I think Preggers. Those girls aren't really my scene, so I may be wrong on a few of those.

I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want. No Spice Girls reunion tour.

Did anyone actually see the Spice Girls movie? I mean the theatrical release not just the sex tapes. Okay, I don't know if they really had sex tapes, but would you be surprised if they did?

Despite this being a washed up and milking it reunion tour, there are several ideas to help make it more successful.

• Add Rob Van Winkle to the bill and make it the Nice Ice Spice Baby Tour.
• Additional Spice girls named Marjoram, Chipotle and Saffron added to band (no, they won't be able to play any instruments either)
• To appeal to older audience, add a grrl named Tapioca
• To enhance Grrl Power, show will be solar powered and sponsored by Toyota Prius
• Alan Cumming forced to donate entire salary from Spice Girls movie
• Anyone with a stub from Spice World gets in free (yes, I realize that's a two-fer on the Spice Girls movie, but there really can't be enough jokes made about that film)
• All male audience attendees (both of them) will be subjected to DNA testing to determine if they are Sporty's baby's Daddy
• To appeal to Spanish-speaking audiences, the band will be billed as The Female Menudo
• Groupies greatly enjoy receiving oral sex from Spice girls as it means 10 minutes they can't be singing

And finally, the difference between pornography and the Spice Girls? Pornography has better music.

Ground Control to Major Tom

According to a Nasatastic report that's not due to be released until tomorrow, the space administration allowed astronauts to fly two times despite their heavy use of alcohol within 12 hours of launch. The report won't be released until tomorrow but maybe they'll name names.

Who do these astronauts think they are--Northwest pilots?

Now I can understand the stress of sitting on a hunk of metal built by folks who submitted the lowest bid and based upon a design that has exploded before. I might want to sneak off for a bracer prior to strapping into the gigantic fuel tank that flies like a brick.

But I'd be worried about filling up my bag in flight because I have a bladder the size of a walnut. And if you think it was bad trying to get your dad to pull over at a Stuckey's on the family trip, that's got to be nothing on getting the Commander to let you leak out the back of the window on a shuttle.

What kind of drink do you think a shuttle crew member goes for?

• Flying Dutchman
• Blue Moon
• Iron Butterfly
• Shoot to the Moon
• Rocket Fuel
• Flaming Blow Job
• Space Odyssey
• Falling Star
• Purple Problem Solver (for when Houston calls)
• Florida
• Moonlight Drive
• Space Suds
• Blue Moon beer
• Soul Taker
• Lemon Lift
• Hairy Armpit (because you know hygiene has to suffer up on that international space station)

You've got to think you go into any bar on the Florida coast and drop the Shuttle member vibe and you're going to drink for free and probably score.

"Yeah, babe. I'll call you tomorrow. If I come back alive. I guess we've always got tonight though." You're in there with that tale of danger, Rocketman.

All of the above are actual drinks. You can check the interwebs if you don't believe me.

Branching Out

In addition to my new, swell online store, I'm going to branch out and offer some additional services to certain clients.

First, we'll slap some keen business collaboration software up on the store site as well. Luckily it's free for the first 30 days and will integrate with the backend system I don't have yet. Well, actually we have a sneakernet. It's like ethernet, but we just run around in our sneakers to fill all the orders.

Second, this software will allow us to work directly with our celebrity clients and offer special services tailored directly to their individual needs.

These needs seem to be chiefly:

• sober drivers (Yes, even if it's late at night, you're coked up and chasing your soon to be former publicist)
• child care services (including proper use of child seat restraints)
• adoption services (any country or ethnicity)
• media distractions
• providing clean urine and/or blood samples
• claiming the drugs were ours and not our celebrity client's
• keeping a straight face during implausible explanations of outrageous behavior (like tripping over your dog)
• unconditional verbal support including but not limited to "Great job, boss!" and "You're much more talented than she is"

There may be more needs but we draw the line at drug and ho procurement services. Others already have that market saturated.

Kick Ass Barbeque

Now for the purposes any law enforcement authorities who may be reading this, I don't advocate lawlessness. I certainly understand it, but would never advocate or participate in such activities.

As far as you know.

But some scofflaws in Adelaide, Australia made off with $7000 of meat.

And because the local constabulary found broken tail lights on the ground, they postulate that the criminals backed a car into the doors to force them open. That butcher should have been using an SD card for security. Or a vegetarian dog.

Why do I think this was a crime of opportunity? I see some drunk guys driving around and deciding they want something to eat. No burger joints are open so they decide to grab some meat and fire it up on the barbie. The grill not the doll.

And now you know the cops are going to be on the lookout for some hot meat. Or a really overstocked Schwan's truck.

These guys can't be too stupid. At least they got away with the goods. For now. Until some jealous neighbor squeals like a pig on them for not sharing all that rich bacony goodness. You know someone will want to be cut in on the caper and muscle in on the action.

My Store

In an effort to get out from under The Man, I've decided to open my own swell interweb store.

I figure all I need is some shopping cart software and some high end, ethereal, spurious merchandise to let the masses consume. Obviously this will be very exclusive merch that not just anyone can afford.

Here's a look at my initial inventory:

• Lindsay Lohan Defensive Driving Course
• Joe Pesci's Guide to Anger Management
• Paris Hilton's Favorite Bible Stories DVD (shot in night vision green)
• Tammy Faye Bakker Makeover (too soon? I don't have much tolerance for televangelists who use Jesus to steal. I'm sure I'll see her in Hell when I get there)
• Maddona's Elocution and Foreign Diction Lessons
• Michael Vick's Puppy Training Class
• Tim Donaghy's Wealth Management System (he's the NBA ref allegedly tied to organized crime and point shaving. Again, that's allegedly for my Italian American cousins.
• Donald Trump's Self-Esteem Improvement Course
• Tom Cruise Public Relations Seminar
• Don King "Volume Builder" Shampoo
• Phil Spector Conditioner
• Tom Sizemore Career Management Strategy
• International Space Station Oxygen

Now I just need a good name for the store. I was going to go with Amazon because that's my favorite river, but apparently someone already has that. Who knew?

Feel free to suggest store names or any additional items I should stock.

Dear John Letter

Dear John:

This is hard for me. I'm trying to be objective, but where you're concerned, I'll always have trouble.

I always stop when One Crazy Summer (including last night and I like to think you got to hit that pre-implant Demi Moore) or Better Off Dead is on cable. I want my two dollars is a common saying. I know way too much about the black Camaro Monique helped you fix up. I bought Tapeheads because that was the only way to see it. I saw Anastasia just because you were a voice.

That kind of foolish devotion, should give me the right to ask one question:

What the hell happened to you?

Where's the cute, quirky, off-beat funny kid I had my first man crush on from The Sure Thing?

Two horror movies in a row? Did you have some kind of falling out with your agent? I don't care if you are in 1408 with the coolest motherfucker on the planet, you can't follow up Identity with another horror flick. Even if Stephen King did write the short story it's based on.

C'mon, Lloyd Dobler. Where's the underdog, unconventional hero we all fell in love with? Even when you were stealing scenes from Rob Lowe and Anthony Michael Hall, it was obvious you were destined for greatness.

You get a free pass for Serendipity because you just wanted to work with Mr. Piven. But Must Love Dogs? Even if you do get Diane Lane in the end, it couldn't have been worth it. If you have to go Leading Man for the cash, don't do it formulaic. Remember Gross Pointe Blank? You can do Leading Man and action. You stole Con Air. Playing a cop no less.

And don't get me started on America's Sweethearts. But if I could get paid to be Catherine Zeta-Jones's former lover, I might have to do it even if the script sucked. And I like to think that you hit that during High Fidelity.

I'm sorry no one saw Max. But, c'mon, Private Gibson, how popular did you think a movie about Hitler was going to be? One that wasn't a musical anyway.

I cut you slack even though you seemingly get rained on in every movie. Say Anything was set in Seattle so that's understandable. Isn't it getting a little cliche not to mention miserable to film? You break up and then get rained on while you stand in the street and pine for the girl. We get it. You're feeling low. Lose the rain machine next time.

Did you peak too soon? Grifters and Being John Malkovich are hard to top. Maybe you're just going commercial to raise some cash for a pet project you've got going ala Medellin? Maybe that's it, call Piv for a quick role in Entourage.

Please, John, come back to us. Do something deep and funny and great again. A little angst, a little self doubt, some nuanced acting and a few wisecracks and you'll be back on top. You've still got it in you.

I hope.

Word Work

I never knew you could get paid for blogging through a service called Smorty.

This is just gravy as far as I'm concerned. I've seen plenty of sites with advertising on them. And I've always questioned how effective it was. Other than making some money for Google and some pennies for the blogger of course. I've never been personally familiar with a company that advertised just on blogs.

But Smorty just lets you write a simple post and gives you some coin. Pretty easy actually. So if it seems like I'm writing about weird stuff, I am. But then you're probably used to just reading about Guinness the Wonder Dog (not to be confused with the upcoming Underdog), boobies, crazy people in Ohio, boobies and other goofy stuff.

So think of this as a change of pace. A change up from the usual goofy stuff I throw at you.

Don't worry, I won't completely sell out. But then I've practiced law and done public relations, so really, there's not much I wouldn't do for some cash money. But I'll never pull the Alex Trebeck life insurance thing.

Worth a Thousand Words

Does anyone own one of those digital picture frames? I don't know anyone who owns one but that may be because I know a lot of geeks. They've just got pix on their computers or their wall paper or their screen saver.

One of the tricks one of my buddies used to do was whenever someone was presenting in a business meeting and started to jabber so long that their screen saver came on and it was a picture of their kids, he'd pipe up and say something along the lines of "Who's that ugly kid?" For some reason, the presenter parent never really seemed to think that was very funny. Wonder why?

But I digress. As usual.

I think the reason I don't have a digital frame is that I don't really like pictures that much. Oh, sure they're swell when they're on your My Space page and you're holding up pumpkins to your breasts, but once you make the Miss America pageant, they get leaked and then you've got a real PR problem on your hands. Or chest as it were. Yes, Miss New Jersey. I'm talking to you.


Plus, Wife and I seem to have no good pictures of ourselves. When we go someplace on vacation, we're usually looking to get away from people. So that when we finally find something goofy to take a picture of, it's only one of us in it. Or it's just a picture of a sign that doesn't make sense or is mis-spelled or warns of impending lava flows.

Digital cameras are great. Because everyone is too lazy to actually print out the photos so you're never stuck looking at someone else's vacation photos. I'm old enough to remember when my Pop used to bust out the slide projector and we'd get stuck looking at all those old vacation photos. Ugh. Man, my sibs looked miserable in all those photos. Thank goodness the parents got that driving wanderlust out of their system before I was around. Pop tells such romantic sounding stories about how they stayed at rustic camprounds all the way from Ohio to California. And those photos of the flash flood in Nevada and having to stop the car on the highway at a highspot and watching the water start to cover the road below them really sounds like a great time.

I also can't imagine giving a digital photo frame to someone with pictures of yourself in it. That's a pretty healthy self-image if you go that route. I know you're enamored of me, but when I'm not around, you can look at all these various poses of me. Try to restrain yourself. If you do something like that, you probably also refer to yourself in the third person.

The concept of a digital frame is a great one. Anyone pulled it off successfully? Giving it or getting it?

Working at the Car Wash

I have a confession. I hate washing my car. First, I own no Automotive detailing supplies. No chamois, no bucket, no hose with one of those swell sprayers on the end, no magic wax buffing gloves. Nothing.

Second, because I've got a cloth top convertible, I can't go to one of those drive through car washes. Which means I have to miss out on all the people who forget to roll up their windows or close their sun roof. And I love stuff like that.

So when I finally break down for a wash, I've got to go to one of those crummy coin operated joints where they specifically set the timer so it's impossible to finish your wash unless you're on uppers.

Third, the folks who invented the timed car wash are geniuses. They know it takes you 8 minutes to wash your car. And they know that they're only going to give you 5 minutes for $1.25. And they know once they screw you and you're not done, you've got to pop for the extra cycle.

So you're standing there with the magic wand in your hand and two minutes left and you're going to opt for the Hot Wax. No one knows what this does. There's really just two settings in the machine: Soap and No Soap. Anything else you put on doesn't do a thing. The last one I went to must have had about jillion settings: Pre-wash, Wash, Scrub, Brush Scrub, Soak, Rinse, Hot Wax, Re-Soak, Undercoating, Remove Paint and Remove Toes in Flip Flops.

The one good thing about car washes is that it gets you out of charitable donations. Because anyone who comes to my door gets told, "I only give to sick kids and cheerleader car washes."

Go team.

Anyone really like washing their car? Except for that part when you get to spray someone else and get them all wet of course.

Defenestration Excitation

In Hanover, Germany, a man isn't being charged with any crime after throwing his computer out of the window and onto the street below.

In not charging the man, the police said, "Who hasn't felt like doing that?"

I'll bet they wouldn't have taken that kind of cavalier attitude if he'd tossed Bill Gates out after getting the Blue Screen of Death again. "I was running Windows" is a perfectly appropriate defense though.

He probably just needs some more Dell Memory. When I was having trouble with my 'puter, I just slapped another 256K in the bad boy and things were fine.

That's presuming I don't try to post a picture in Blogger of course. Then all bets are off.

I know Letterman likes to throw stuff off the roof. I don't remember him doing a computer though.

The last thing I threw out of a window was a paper airplane. From the third floor of an office building, it really sailed. Yes, I have thrown water balloons out of a hotel window when I was a kid on a trip to Washington, D.C. And I've dropped a box of wine off a balcony as an experiment.

What's the last thing you threw out of a window?

Love Grocery Style

I have written before of Wife's and my adventures in true grocery love. And it's happened again. I don't understand what the strange phemomena is that leads to hijinx at the Piggly Wiggly (or SBJ forbid, the Hinky Dinky), but something always seems to happen there.

Wife and I had loaded all of our Golf Equipment in the Wondermobile, but needed to make a quick stop at the Try 'N Save for some liquid refreshments before the round was to commence.

As we were in the store and headed back to the wonderful aisle containing all the beveragi (that's plural for beverage), we see a lady carrying two Bay City Honey Rocks. Yes, the same Bay City the Rollers named themselves after that fateful dart toss. And she's carrying these cantelope at just the right spot.

Unable to resist such an obvious ploy for a great old joke, I immediately inhale and get ready to drop my little entendre doublay. Before I can spit it out, Wife looks directly at me and says through gritted teeth, "Don't!" Completely busted.

Yeah, she gets me.

Summer Blockbuster

While I hear there is some movie about a young wizard coming out today, I'd rather go see this flick.

You don't need to be some kind of genius at running payroll software to know that this picture is going to set all sorts of movie records. That's got to be a lot better than robot cars or car robots or whatever the hell it is that Michael Bay is trying to shove down our throats.

I don't want to say Michael Bay is a crummy director (because my Momma told me if you can't say anything nice you should just go ahead and blog about it), but let me give you two words of advice -- Pearl Harbor.

I think the little wizard movie is called Scary Potty and the Cash Cow. I haven't heard anything about it. It's probably a little indie flick done on the cheap by a first time director. Hope they manage to make their money back....I just love rooting for the little guy. Especially if he got Shrek preggers.

Getting the Hell Out Redux

Thanks for all the swell suggestions about where Wife and I should buy real estate. Just to recap the advice, it was:

• San Fran
• Vermont
• Savannah
• Oregon
• Texas

I'm not sure about San Fran. All those Californians and you need to take out a cash advance just to pay for your parking. I really think the entire economy of San Francisco is based upon coffee shops and parking. Wife has to travel there on business a fair amount. And if we could somehow exist in a cardboard box, it would be perfect.

Vermont? What's in Vermont other than Bob Newhart's fictional inn? Do they make Maple Syrup there? Seriously, I don't know anything about Vermont other than it's supposed to be nice in the Fall. Just like Michigan. Not enough to warrant staying there.

Savannah is still on the list. I did read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil though I never saw the movie despite John Cusack's inclusion in the cast. This one is still in the running.

Oregon is a mystery. I don't know anything about it other than the University mascot is the duck. And that Californians are moving up there at a rapid pace and that the Oregonians aren't too crazy about it. Is it as rainy as Washington state? A good possibility?

Texas is out. Wife and I both had the opportunity to work with lots of Texans. I believe that Texans are where all the rumors about ugly Americans come from. I know some great Texans. But I know a lot more worse ones.

Yeah, we're still clueless about where we should go. That RV Lifestyle is sounding better and better.

And I'm a little surprised no one suggest that I go to Hell, Michigan to retire. Because that's probably where I'm going to wind up anyway. Interestingly enough, Hell isn't that far away from Climax.

Beisbol Been Berry, Berry Good To Me

It's the Home Run Derby tonight on telebision. And while I admit it's one of the few beisbol (disc 4, track 25) events Wife and I sit around on our home furniture and watch together, it's a tradition in our Shaque D'Amour.

I don't remember how it got started. It may have been when McGwire and Sosa were hitting them out of the park. Please add your own asterisk here.

After I make chili dogs, we curl up and watch the boys go yard. Normally when baseball is on in the house, I'm watching it by myself. Or Wife is reading a People while I'm watching the Tabbies go at it.

Wife may hearken back to the first time she ever came and watched me play ball. I hit a grand salami to win the game. My only one in organized play and she still remembers it. I must have been pumped up to have a real live Baseball Annie come to watch me play.

If we really want to feel like we're at the park, I'll take my shirt off, spill beer on her, spew profanities and throw peanut shells on the carpet. Ahhh, the great American past time. How come so many guys are named Gonzalez?

Enjoy the game, kids.

Getting the Hell Out

Wife and I are finally at the age (early 40's) where we can think about where we want to retire. Really it's just the "What the hell are we going to do in about 20 years because we're ditching this shitty Michigan weather" stage, but you get the idea.

We've kicked around several spots, but all seem to have some flaw or two in them.

--North Carolina: Here's what I know about North Carolina and beaufort nc real estate. It's really windy in NC because that's where the Wright brothers had to go when Ohio wasn't windy enough. Their hockey team is named the Hurricanes which doesn't bode well for a retirement home which may mean losing all your stuff. They're good at basketball. But I'd miss the rough and tumble (maybe even dirty) play of the Big 10. Aren't the Outer Banks supposed to be really nice?

--Hawaii: I can't believe we'll ever be able to afford real estate their that doesn't involve a winning lottery ticket or some kind of criminal activity. Plus wouldn't every stray acquaintance you ever knew show up and want to stay with you?

--Savannah, GA: Never been but heard it's nice. I've also heard that it can be "stuffy" to new arrivals. I've also heard that all the humidity in the US is actually made in Savannah and shipped out to other parts of the country.

--Jamaica: Awesome to visit. Not sure I could really live there if it wasn't at an all inclusive resort where all my food and liquor was included. Medical care seemed a bit sketchy. Hurricanes are a given. No idea what real estate costs there. Seemed like plenty of beach was still available.

--Arizona: I've lived here before and now that my Sister moved to Tucson, I don't think the state's big enough. Arizona tricks all the Midwesterners by having them come out in March when it sucks back there and it's paradise in 'Zona. If you ask about how hot it gets, they'll tell you it's a dry heat. But put your oven on low and put your head in it. That's a dry heat too. They call it September though. Another minus, how do you like driving in oven mitts?

So that leaves us with nothing. Maybe one of those RV's and we can roam the country like in Lost in America?

Anyone else got any ideas?

Festivus for the Rest of Us

It's Festival Time in the Midwest. Time to pack your Samsonite luggage and head for the Pigeon Forge vacation rentals and hit all the hot spots in between.

I think it's because the winter can seem so harsh here in the Midwest, that when Summer finally comes, we seize upon any reason as an excuse to be outside, drink beer and eat fried food.

In Traverse City, they have the Cherry Festival over July 4th even though the local cherries aren't blooming yet. Let's not let Mother Nature get in the way of taking advantage of the long holiday and the auto plant shutdowns. If you didn't know, the auto companies take two weeks for plant shut down at the start of July. The Cherry Festival is a big deal.

But it's the smaller, goofier festivals that appeal the most. The Cornfest in Auburn, Michigan and starts on July 12th. Of course the corn's not in yet, but it's the thought that counts. Yes, that's Corny the official mascot over there. Make your travel plans now.

There's the Munger Potato Festival. And while I've never been (despite my love of all things potato), doesn't "mungering" sound like something you could get arrested for? The big news out of Munger is that last year's Potato Queen was forced to give up her crown. Not for naked pictures or any racy conduct, just because she couldn't make enough events because she was in school. Man, I remember when Potato Queen wasn't such a political post. Can't we put bipartisan bickering aside for the sanctity and majesty of the Potato Crown? Luckily, they'll be picking a new Potato Queen from all the Potato Princesses (see how I avoided making a "tot" joke there?) at the end of July.

Finally, in Rittman it's the Sleepwalker Festival also at the end of July. This is a bit of an odd one in that it takes place on Thursday and Friday and doesn't even warrant weekend outdoor drinking. Luckily, there's plenty of fried food including fries, sweet potato fries (take that Munger), fried bananas, Blooming Onions, fried veggies, fried cheese, fried bologna, donuts, and pizza on a stick. Not sure how pizza on a stick works. Maybe it's friend so it stays on the stick. The best thing, you can also get free cholesterol and blood pressure checks from WRH Health System on Friday, July 27th. I can't make stuff up that's this good.

Oh, and there's a 3 on 3 basketball tournament because you'll want plenty of high humidity exercise after all that fried food.

What's the goofiest festival you have in your nape of the woods?

Going Home

I don't get it. Why do people who used to live someplace want to go back and look around even though they don't know anyone there now and haven't been back in 20 years?

Is this a Universal Truth?

I got stuck driving my Pop around the bump in the road where I grew up last Summer. We even had to drive by all three houses the family had lived in (including the real shitholes before I was born). You could tell these places didn't exactly have chandeliers or under cabinet lighting.
And yes, that skulker in the red ball cap with his pants in his jeans is the Old Man aka Pop. Tell me you wouldn't call the authorities if you saw that guy on your driveway. At the very least get out the No Soliciting sign because you know he's always got to be closing.

Of course we had to take lots of pictures of houses now owned by strangers. I can't believe no one calls the cops when people with out of state plates stop in the middle of a street and start taking pictures of random houses. Luckily, no one seemed to be home at any of these unsuspecting domiciles or we'd have probably been stuck in a half hour conversation about what the house used to be like before you bought it and let it go to pot. "I remember when this was all farmland...." Never get a Peepaw started about what the place used to be like unless you've got a comfortable chair close by.

I also had a buddy of mine make me drive by his old apartment so that we could see if the green door he had put up was still there. Yeah, I didn't get it either.

And today Wife is stuck driving her parents down to where they used to live in Detroit some 20 years ago. She's lucky though, her parents won't want to get out of the car and go all stalky on the new residents.

Sorry about the funky formatting kids, Blogger is being cranky today with the swell photo insert.

What about you? Do you go back to where you used to live and see how the new residents are treating the joint? Do you silently judge their yardwork and handyman proficiency? Or are you like me, once you're gone it's "Later, losers" and you could care less about the old joint?

It's Spreading

I'm not sure why it started, but it's spreading. Another man recently wrote on his wife's body.

In Witchita, Kansas, a man wrote on his wife's but-tock (pronounce that just like Forrest would) with a marker. He wrote Kilroy Was Here. Not surprisingly, liquor was involved. No word on whether he drew the little face or just wrote the slogan. Also not surprising, when she woke up, she wasn't amused and proceeded to kick his ass.

They then started to scrap, the cops were called and he wound up tasered. A valuable lesson there kids. Don't write on your sleeping mate. It may seem funny at the time, but it won't be when they wake up.

I don't get what's changed in the world that's this is happening all of a sudden.

That being said, I still think if I was going to write something on a sleeping body, it'd be either the quintessential No Pepper or I need cubs tickets.

You know, go with a baseball classic as we're coming up on the All Star Game next week.

Just a Couple of Hoo Haws

As proof that Wife & I are both crazy, I submit the following True Tale of Love.

Usually on Sunday mornings, Wife and I go out to breakfast to ensure we get our RDBA (Recommended Daily Bacon Allowance). Two weeks ago, our breakie break was after we had been to see Frank Caliendo in concert.

As a brief aside, if you don't know who Frank is, make sure you check him live and not just on the interwebs. He's an amazing impressionist who also happens to be hilarious. You've probably seen him on Fox NFL Sunday or David Letterman or You Tube. Frank does an amazing Al Pacino.

So feeling saucy and bacon-enriched, Wife and I hit the grocery store (where I would walk slowly by the bacon aisle) for a couple of essentials. As I'm parking, I notice a Meemaw with her minivan door open and she is nattering to her Peepaw.

So I park a few spots away and as she continues to talk loudly, I walk by and let out a Pacino-esque "Hoo Haw!" at the top of my lungs. Wife immediately begins to laugh and Meemaw says, "Yes, it is hot out."

Flash forward to a week later. It's after a bacon gorging and we're at the same grocery store before we head back to our luxury home. I'm heading inside and luckily no Meemaw is in sight. As I turn around to look back at the Wife, she beats me to the bunch by shouting out "Hoo Haw! and completely cracks me up."

Yeah, she gets me.

It Runs In the Family

We used to joke in my family that if Pop ever got on our nerves, we could just drop him off at any hardware store and come back later in the day. My Pop could wander around in a hardware store all day easily.

And I've got it too.

But not for hardware, it's odder than that. It's office supplies. I could wander around a Staples or a Office Depot for a few hours easily. I'm not some paper freak so I duck that isle. But I can wander around in the Pens forever.

It's worse with Sharpies. I probably own at least 50 Sharpies in various colors, widths and styles. I even have some teeny, tiny ones that are about half the size of a regular pen and are designed to be carried about on your key chain. Luckily, I don't have it that bad. I always take a black, medium Sharpie with me when I travel. Because if that plane goes down, I want the body identified correctly and a Sharpie would be perfect for that.

I think I'd opt for something snotty on the inflight magazine as well. Something like, "I told you I had a bad feeling about this flight."

Anyone else have stores where they can kill an hour or two and time just seems to fly by?

True Love

If you're visitng Bluffton, SC, make sure you take a Sharpie.

Seems a man waited until his wife was asleep, then wrote profanities on her arms, legs and back. She must be a deep sleeper. And while the article doesn't say it, why do I have the sneaking suspicion she was in such a deep sleep because alcohol was involved.

Anyhoo, Sleeping Beauty awakes to find herself graffiti-ed up and proceeds to beat up her husband and bite him a few times. It's the biting that landed her in jail. She said that she had bitten her husband twice and threatened him with a wooden board. I think we've all probably got a pretty good idea where she was going to put that board.

And while this short little story of these two crazy kids is absolutely delicious, it lacks most of the facts which could truly turn it into something fabulous. So it's up to use interwebers to speculate and make stuff up.

First, was it a permanent marker? The police report just said it was an "ink pen." Real helpful, Barney. It's lucky for her he didn't go all Ross & Rachel on her face as well.

Second, what did he write on her various body parts? I'm guessing the body art on her back was "Open All Night" with an arrow pointing downwards. With that in mind, here's what was on the rest of her.

• Spread the Word (on her legs of course)
• The 2nd Amendment Rules (on her bare arms)
• Space for Rent (back)
• If you lived here, you'd be home by now
• House was Here
• This Anatomy Ain't Grey
• Do Not Tease the Animals
• Free to Good Home
• Left Right (on the wrong arms)
• This End Up (on back as well)
• Get Back to Where You Once Belonged (on back)
• Don't Pull on My Ears, I Know What I'm Doing
• No Entry
• One Way Only
• No Pepper

I'm sure there are others. Feel free to play along at home, kids.

But I'm also sure this man is never going to sleep soundly the rest of his life. Paybacks are hell, buster.

A Dog & His Boy

I've discovered an amazing new trick that my dog (Guiness the Wonder Dog for those of you who have short memories) somehow learned on his own.

He has the amazing ability to make his poo stick to his butt. This is a wonderful trick.

Because he's then taught me that if I don't want to have poo in my house, I get to cut the hair around his asshole.

Yes, there are special safety asshole scissors that I get to use to carefully trim the dingleberries. This task is made more difficult when Guinness would rather play than sit patiently for his butt trim and when Wife and I are giggling uncontrollably.

I do recall that at one point, Guinness turned around and gave me a look that said, "When I get my thumbs, you sonsabitches won't be laughing anymore."

I don't ever remember Timmy having to trim Lassie's hinder. Maybe Shaggy and Scooby Doo did this, but again, I must have missed those scenes.

I'm guessing in the future, George Jetson had some kind of labor-saving device to handle this for Astro.

Challenge Accepted

Because we've only had Paris' incarceration, freedom, re-incarceration and parental line jumping to distract us, morale is low. During this time of national torment, where is the media distraction we so desperately need. Paris is only acting dumb according to her collect call with Barbara Walters. And Paris has found the Lord. Better get right with Him yourself, dear reader.

Luckily, someone has stepped up to the plate and accepted the challenge. And while the national news hasn't picked up on it yet, it's only a matter of time.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that this woman, Sara White, may be the next runaway bride we need to get us out of our funk. Yes, Ms. White is engaged to be married. But she was going to go out on a date with a man she met on a phone chat line.

When she got cold feet about cheating on her fiancee, she faked her own kidnapping to cancel the date. Too bad her date called the cops. His bad.

"Basically, it was the only thing I could think of," Sara White said. Yeah, because that whole "I can't go out with you because I'm engaged to someone already" line never works.

Sara is still scheduled to get married next April. C'mon, Sara. The bus station can't be too far away from where you live and a ticket to Albuquerque is beckoning.

I'm not sure we're going to make it until next April though. Any chance you could make that a June wedding? We've still got 2 weeks left....

3 Days in the Hole

Well our national crisis has been averted. With Paris' freedom from jail due to an "unspecified medical condition," we once again have the media distraction we need to keep us rolling.

Luckily, Paris was able to smuggle a note out to me written on toilet paper. I'm sharing it with you until we can finally get some news through official channels from the Hilton compound.

t2ed:

Hey, dude. Like, I'm free and all so you need to come buy and see me. There's lots of popsarazzis in front of the house so yu'll need to sneek in somehows.

You know how I toled you I was all worried about being in the jail and stuff. We'll I worryed so much that I gave my self a rash and they thot that it was scabies or something. So now I have to stay at home and wear this dumb bracelete but that doesn't meen I can't party!

Jail wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The wurst part is that everyone was wearing the same outfit as me. You know I'm not a summer so I wish I could have got a blue jumpsuit instead.

Before yu ask, yes, I did have to get the full cavity search before I got in the slammer. And you know I usually only do that after a fancey dinner and when there's a video camera around. Plus it was over too soone.

I had my own room, but it was like so small. 8' by 10' with just a toilet and a sink. At a Hilton, we call that a joonier sweet. HA! I herd Dave tell that on my TEEVO when I got back here. And I only got to go outside like 1 hour a day. Luckily, I was skinnee enough to fit between the bars of my cell and go for a walk whenever I wanted.

The other pirsoners were so meen. They kept calling me Marty even thogh I kept telling them it was Paris. I did meet a nice lady named Grace who said she wanted to clean my carpet for me but I toled her I had hardwood floors at my house.

I'm outta room on this skware so I gotta go. I'm pretty bummed I never even got to try the wine I was making in my pirson toylet. Cum see me soon.

XO Paris

Step Up, Bitches

Can you hear that sound? It's news editors all over the country crying.

Paris is in the pokey and Ho-Han is habilitatin' for another 30 days or so. And the media doesn't have anything to talk about. Oh sure, there's the war and why we're still in it even though we were told we'd be out by the last bunch of liars we voted for. But nobody wants that depressing stuff in the news.

So I'm calling out our newsmaking folks to step up and become the next media distraction/fixation with one of the following:

• Runaway Bride
• Teenage Kidnapping
• Republican Scandal
• Celebrity Beaver Shot
• Poor Hollywood Parenting
• High-profile Divorce
• Hollywood Sex Tape
• Campaign Leak
• Surprise Summer Movie Hit
• Sensational Hollywood Murder
• Reality TV Cheating Allegation
• Celebrity DUI with Crazed Mugshot

Place your bet folks on what it'll be next.

Florida Dreaming

I'm dreaming up funny things right now. No, not brainstorming, I'm actually thinking up little comedy bits while I'm asleep. I actually woke myself up this morning laughing. This is probably because I've been working so hard and have public relations on the brain right now.

Now, to those of you who've been around here for a while, this probably comes as no shock. You're thinking, "No kidding. We know you kill yourself. If only we got some of that humor every now and then." So here it is. What I was dreaming of and woke up with giggles at.

Universal Orlando announced that it's going to start building a Harry Potter theme park. (Because Orlando needs some tourism, it's practically a ghost town most weekends.)

Universal has also announced a partnership with the Department of Motor Vehicles. Because it was the only way they could figure out how to make the lines move slower. Maybe not even at all on some days.

Yeah, in the cold, hard type of Blogger it doesn't seem nearly as hilarious. A joke about the DMV and slow lines? That's never been done before. Maybe you needed to see the Hogwart's crest on a surly DMV lady to appreciate the nuance of the joke. Or maybe I'm just slowly going nuts?

If dreaming of PR jokes is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Another Blockbuster or She's Back

I'm ashamed to admit it, but when I was doing my big recap of the Summer Blockbusters, I missed one.

Ya'll remember the toughest superheroine of all? Of course I'm just talking 'bout Thong Girl. Lana Layonme has a very special, magical thong that allows her to fly, have superhuman strength and can fire laser beams from her ass.

That's right, Thong Girl 3: Revenge Of The Dark Widow is debuting in Nashville, TN at the the Watkins College Of Art and Design on June 9th and 10th. Two shows Saturday at 7 and 9 and a Sunday matinee at 3 for the kids. Admission for all showings is $5. The film is family friendly and contains no nudity or profane language or excessive violence.

Now I don't want to tell a big Nashville movie producer how to run his business, but Thong Girl 3 practically screams for another version with at least a little nudity. Maybe the DVD could have that version?

Even without the nudity, I'm betting this one breaks Spiderman's weekend opening record and kicks Shrek and that swishy pirate movie right in the ass. Or she could just shoot them with her laser beams.