This SNL skit with Bill Murray is one of my all-time favorites, I use the line "Lift with the legs, Hercules!" and no-one ever gets it. Such is the curse of a pop culture victim.
Other favorite skits are this gem, which features comic genius Steve Martin as a parsimonious James Bond on vacation (with Sting as a super villian!), and the Bean Cafe, ah, good old fart humor...
Relive the glory of SNLs past here.
A recent blog entry by GreyDuck put the fear of Gawd into me. People are getting fired over writing in their web journals about their workplace? I try to keep things pretty vague to begin with; still, if I couldn't write about Uncle Chuckie or the Office Stalker, I'd lose a lot of good material!
Don't get me wrong, I hate Florida in August and am enjoying the change of pace, but - 28 degrees with a "feels like" temp of 19 in Florida? Is this because it snowed in hell when the Bucs won the other day?
Maybe it will snow later today...
Find your inner fast food! by Emily
I could really go for a single right about now. Hold the pickle.
(heh heh...I said "Hold the pickle!")
Jeff has taken down his blog! I urge all of you who know him to tell him to come back to the blogging fold. Come on, we all need a little window into your fine mind!
Had an enjoyable time watching the Super Bowl at Greg and Heather's place. Greg is quite ingenious, (some might even say he's 'craft'), he builds temporary bleachers for his living room furniture, creating stadium seating for optimal viewing of the game on his big screen TV. I took some pictures, I'll have to post them when I take my happy ass to get them developed.
So Tampa Bay won the game. I'm happy to report that there was no burning of tires, cars, appliance stores, effigies, etc. There was lots of horn honking and other restrained jubilation. I think if the Bucs had lost, we would have had to have grief counselors rushed to the area.
It's also nice to see the myth that the Amish and Mennonite people are not allowed to own professional sports teams dispelled once and for all.
An opthamologist told me several years ago that I slept with my eyes open. No, he didn't sleep with me; he figured this out since I often have red, dry eyes in the morning. This fact also explained all the dreams I have had that take place in the bedroom - my brain was just being lazy, choosing the setting that I was already looking at for my REM festivities. Stupid brain.
Yesterday when I got home from work, I decided to have a bit of a lie-down before fixing dinner. I woke up at 11:30 pm. Jeff came in to check on me to discover me lying there, staring straight ahead. He checked to see that I was breathing, but maybe he should have put coins on my eyes, because I still had my contacts in! Once I awoke from my light coma, I was able to remove them, but very carefully. I asked him if my eyes rolled up in my head, like dogs' eyes do when they're sleeping, but he said no, I was just staring. Anyway, that was very weird, and now Jeff can tell you what I will look like dead. (Also because he's seen me without makeup.)
The picture you see is no portrait of me, It's too real to be shown to someone I don't own
"The Federal Aviation Administration announced a temporary weigh-in policy for planes with 10 to 19 seats as part of a monthlong survey to determine whether current weight estimates are accurate. It's a question of safety for the smaller planes, and passengers who refuse to go along with the request could be barred from a flight. The survey will affect passengers on about 200 Jetstream 31s, Metro 23s and Beech 1900s. All bags will be weighed, but the FAA is letting the airlines decide whether to require passengers to step on scales or simply ask them how much they weigh. The agency will allow airlines to add 10 pounds to each passenger who is not weighed, because some people might underestimate their weight. Airlines can refuse to board passengers who refuse to divulge their weight, the FAA said."
From the AAA...
Has anyone seen the movie Gothic? It's about the night Mary Shelley came up with the idea for "Frankenstein". (Not to be confused with "Frank and Stein", the hot dog restaurant chain). I always liked the idea of people sitting around and coming up with stories to entertain each other, though I think in high school English, the whole drug use thing about Shelley & Co. got swept under the carpet.
Another one that sounds good is Vatel. Sounds like it could be along the lines of one of House Sinister's favorite movies, Ridicule.
Day 1: Subject's desk drawers somehow lock themselves, something that has happened before. In the past, subject has unlocked drawers with key. However, subject does something stupid this time - sticks a straightened paper clip into lock. Paper clip breaks. Subject swears. Observer suggests calling building supervisor. Subject is too proud/stubborn/embarrassed to do so, and continues to fiddle with lock and a second paper clip.
Day 2: More fiddling, with no success. Lock itself now protruding by 1/4" more than normal.
Day 3: Subject brings in needle nose pliers to deal with situation. After some tugging, paper clip now has additional 1/4" projecting out of lock. Subject thinks wistfully of flavored Tootsie Rolls, Snackwells mini chocolate chip cookies, and SlimFast shakes locked away and out of her reach.
Day 4: Very loud and off-key singing of custodian affects mental health of subject; headphones are locked away in desk. In desperation, subject grabs needle nose pliers and manages to completely remove paper clip. With the way cleared, subject inserts key into lock. Lock clicks but remains locked; drawers appear to now have only "locked" and "really locked" options. Subject removes key, and cylindrical lock comes out with it. Fascinated, subject briefly studies object of frustration before reinstalling it. At last, lock opens with a turn of the key. Subject gleefully removes headphones and vows to never again close desk drawers.
Guess the letter-writing campaign worked!
Now if only I could get him to capitulate on dish-washing as easily...
My dad died 4 1/2 years ago. At the time I decided, for a variety of reasons, to not talk about him or his passing. I didn’t want to depress my friends, (I’ve been through phases where I just prattled on and on about my problems and didn’t want to do that any more) and I would do just about anything to avoid crying in public.
My dad was born premature and died on my mother’s birthday. He was an artistic kid who had an unhappy childhood. He lied about his age so he could enlist and fight in WWII. He graduated from Ohio State University, and went on to earn a Ph.D. from Florida State University, probably the first in his family to graduate college in some time. He was a lieutenant colonel in the Army.
Dad was a bit vain. He cared about his patients - managed to get a number of bicycles donated to the children’s mental health hospital where he worked in the early 80’s, for example. He was obsessed with exercise. He spoiled his only daughter. He was very difficult for my mother to live with. Helped his kid brother (who died a few days after Dad did) go to college. Was never very close to his son.
He loved wordplay and had an odd sense of humor. He had to have things his way. Made great French toast. Was interested in the metaphysical. Would talk to anyone he encountered. Wrote copious notes in books. Liked history and classical music. Talked a teenage mental patient out of a potential murderous rampage. Crossed the border into Hungary during the Hungarian Revolution, just to buy a set of beautiful colored glass goblets - I have three of them.
None of my friends (since grade 10) got to meet my dad. My friends’ dads have never had dinner with him. I never got to ask him what it was like for a kid with an obvious German name to be in the armed forces in WWII, or got to talk to him about psychological theories. All I can do is hope that he’s at peace, at last.
So, sorry to bore you with all that, hopefully I’ll have something more entertaining to share next time.
I just got spam from my father. If you read my previous blog entry, you know that he's been dead since 1998. As he's been my mind lately, this really made my hair stand on end, to say the least.
Now I know that spammers have figured out how to send spam with the recipient's e-mail address as the "from", but this is ridiculous! Jeff assures me that this is a coincidence. However, Dad had a very unusual first name, and our last name isn't very common either. (A Google search yielded four results - some guy in Iowa in the early 1900's, an employee of a chemical manufacturer, and an art student in Germany.) It's really got me pissed off that hundreds of thousands of people are grumbling about getting spam with my dad's name on it - "Protect Your Computer" - my dad never had a PC! These rat bastards are using Dad's name in vain - and there's nothing I can do to stop them!
Yet another reason why every single spammer should go to Hell and die!
One of the GLOM (Gorgeous Ladies of Marketing) is in a "Dating Game" type contest sponsored by a local radio station. Like most things for consumption by the masses, the winner is determined by a vote. So, if you're so inclined to help a very nice young lady out with her social life, visit this link. She's "Bachelorette # 4". Voting goes on through the rest of this week, so vote early and often! As my co-worker has to talk to the overly perky DJ several times this week, she's earning her nice night out on the town, believe me.
I suggest pairing her with "Bachelor # 2". He heard her on-air interview and thought she sounded cute. Besides, he's from Buffalo, NY.
Check out "Bachelorette #1's" ideal fantasy date, while you're there. "He would escort me to an awards ceremony where I would be honored." I guess everyone's entitled to her own fantasy. Some are just more achieveable than others.
My brother was telling me at Christmas that he's been trying to stick to a diet of steak and salad, only sometimes he substitutes fried chicken for steak and ice cream for salad.
