27 November 2012

"You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" --Joni Mitchell

Angus T. Jones, arguably the "Half" in Two and a Half Men, best known for his half-assed attempts to act, has now decided that he wants to publicly discourage people from watching the "filth" that is his hit TV show because it does not represent his religious values.

He is being paid $350,000.00.



Here are my predictions:
  • Within six months, Angus will be "released"* from his TaaHM contract, at which point the ratings will improve.
  • Angus will be unable to get another acting job. Anywhere. Ever. Not even in a Christmas pageant. 
  • Within one year, Angus will be in the headlines for snorting coke off a hooker's ass.  TMZ will run the video.
  • Within two years, Angus will be brought up on charges of tax evasion and will plead poverty (see 'coke off hooker's ass' above).
  • Within three years, Angus will be working at a Gas 'N' Sip.
Question du jour:  Does it bother you when people who have no discernible talent fall ass backwards into luck and promptly throw it away?

No reason.  Just askin'...

* Much the same way one "releases" a Taco Bell 'fourth meal' at 3 A.M.

17 October 2012

"Real Men of Genius" --presented by Bud Light

So, yeah, last month we went back to Cozumel.  It was rough:

We stayed at an all-inclusive which meant that we could have drinks or food any time we wanted.  I say this not to be all "Look at me, I'm fancier than Ann Romney's Cadillacs" but because it's germane to what I'm going to tell you.

While we were at this all-inclusive hotel, there were Texans in the next room.  They brought their own beer to an all-inclusive.  Rather than drink either of the beer options offered (two different bottled Dos Equis) or anything else from the full service bars (high end liquor, mixed drinks, wine), they toted around their cooler of Bud Lights.  That's right.  These folks, who paid in advance for the joy of having whatever they wanted delivered to them on the beach, passed up Dos Equis in favor of their own Bud Light in cans.  I've heard of brand loyal but WTF?

Questions du jour:  What have you passed up that was free in favor of something that wasn't?  Do you ever cringe at American behavior when you are traveling?

15 October 2012

"Hey, leader, strike up the band!" --Gershwin & Gershwin

We are standing in the AT&T store talking to the clerk at the counter.

Me:  I'm going to go with the iPhone.

Hubs:  The 4?  Or are you going to wait weeks for the 5?

Before I can answer the guy behind me takes it out.*  That's right, he pulls his iPhone 5 out of his pocket and interjects:  Wait for the 5, it's totally worth it!  You'll love it.  Here!  Feel it!

He motions to hand his phone to Hubs.

Hubs to Guy:  I don't love anything about Apple.  In fact I think they're the great Satan.**

We can feel all eyes turning to look at us.

Guy:  *pause*  What are you an Android guy?

Hubs:  That's right.

Guy, dismissively:  Oh, there's no comparison.

Hubs:  I couldn't agree more!

Guy: *blink* ***

Later, after the purchase is complete, and we are in the car...

Me, incredulous:  You announced that you thought Apple was the great Satan in an AT&T store.  Why would you say that?!  You know Apple isn't the great Satan.  That's always been Bill Gates!

Hubs:  I just wanted to shut him up.  I could just tell he was one of those people who camped out so he could be one of the first people to get one.  He was just looking for an opportunity to show it off.

So, anyway, things change. When everybody had a Blackberry, I had a Palm.  When all the cool kids bought an iPhone, I bought an Android.  Now everyone is jumping on the iPhone 5 bandwagon and I'm tired of being bandwagon-less.  

So, yeah, the iPhone 5 is on its way.

God have mercy on my soul.

Question du jour:  Just how damn cute are lemmings?

ELAINE: He took it out.
JERRY: (confused) He what?
ELAINE: He took (blows on her glasses twice to clean them) it out.

JERRY: He took what out?


JERRY: He took It, Out?

ELAINE: Yessiree Bob.

JERRY: He couldn't.

ELAINE: He did.

JERRY: (motions of making out) Well you were involved in some sort of amorous...

ELAINE: Noooo.

JERRY: You mean he just


JERRY: Are you sure?

ELAINE: Oh quite.

JERRY: There was no mistaking it?

ELAINE: (looks straight into his eyes) Jerry.

JERRY: So you were talking, (Elaine makes an agreement sound "mmm") you're having pleasant conversation, (Elaine makes an agreement sound "mmm") then all of sudden...






** If the AT&T store were an old west saloon, this is when the piano player would stop playing. 

*** Piano player resumes music, people start talking, and Miss Kitty considers investing in sarsaparilla futures.

10 August 2012

"And all that Jazz..." --Ebb & Kander

 I got tickets to a jazz club in DC.  We went.  It was an okay time.  The combo was composed of pretty good musicians.  At times, they even seemed aware of each other.  I liked those moments best.  The "I meant to do that" factor is kind of important to me. 

So, maybe I'm not cut out for jazz.

See what I did there?  I hedged.  I didn't say "I don't like jazz." because we all know the answer to that is "You just don't get jazz."  As in, you're not musically sophisticated enough to understand and appreciate what you are listening to.

You can say you don't like country or rap or baroque.  But jazz?  Nope--you haven't evolved.

Questions du jour:  How did jazz get this exemption?  How do you feel about jazz?

08 August 2012

Back to Back Quickies!

We were driving down the road when we noticed the rather unusual tag on the vehicle in front of us:

[It's a blurry picture but hopefully you can see the tag reads CHRIST]

Hubs:  Look at that!

Me:  Oh my god!  ...so to speak... Well, not my god...

Hubs, laughing:  Do you think it's really him?

Me, laughing:  If it is, this is not the way I pictured it at all.

Hubs:  Huh.  I guess I am a follower of Christ.

05 August 2012

A Quickie

Me: *singing loudly and imperfectly*
He walks into the room and stares.
Me:  That's right, I'm singing.  You love my singing.
Me:  Yes, you do.
Him:  I didn't say anything.
Me:  I'm singing.  
Me:  Me and the caged bird.  We sing.
Him:  Yes, but we know why the caged bird sings!

11 June 2012

"Don't stand so close to me" --The Police

I have had strangers tuck my tag.  I'll be walking around with a tag sticking out of the neck of my blouse or dress and suddenly feel a hand on the back of my neck.  This is not cool.  Don't tuck my tag unless you are a friend of mine.  Say "Excuse me, your tag is sticking out" and let me tuck my own damn tag.* 

It's not like they reached over to zip my fly for me or adjust my bra strap or tuck my underwear back into the back of my jeans*** or picked a bit of salad greens out of my teeth (also gotta go with a big fat No on all these), but still--not appropriate.

Over-sensitive?  Maybe.  I just think there are things best left to the individual to deal with themselves, especially if we're talking strangers.

 On a related note:  Years later, the one scene I can remember clearly from the The Newlywed Game****, was, oddly enough, not whoopee related.  In it, a woman admitted, and her husband confirmed, that she picked his nose for him.  Because she had long fingernails.  She wiggled them for the camera.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Questions du jour:  Do you want strangers tucking your tags?  Do you want loved ones picking your nose?

* After all, this could be my signature style.  Speaking of signature style... little known fact:  Tommy Hilfiger had his favorite shirt stolen at summer camp so he decided to write TOMMY HILFIGER in huge letters across the front of all his clothes. And the rest is history.**

** You don't know, it could have happened.

*** Granny panties are still the rage, right?

**** I think Jerry Springer must recruit from the same pool of idiots that The Newlywed Game dredged.  Who says "So, let me get this straight... I can go on national television and talk about the details of my sex life and who in my family my spouse hates and which of my friends my spouse wants to sleep with?  Sure!  That sounds like a great idea!  What could go wrong with that?" *****

***** Note to self:  I shouldn't really complain about The Jerry Springer Show since they just offered me a free makeover!  I'm so excited!!!  That sounds like a great idea!  What could go wrong with that?

07 June 2012

"Your love is sweet misery" --Aerosmith

*stands*  Hi, my name is L. A. and I am a Saabaholic.

How else do you explain going through this with the first Saab and then buying another Saab?

*sticks chin out resolutely* Well, this is my second and LAST Saab.*

Yes, they do help my lead foot take flight BUT permit me to explain my latest in a long series of strange Saab experiences...

Me, sounding disturbingly like Milton in Office SpaceThe alarm on my car goes off at odd times for no apparent reason.  My husband and I are nowhere near the fobs and suddenly it'll go off, by itself, and I've got to run and get the fob to turn it off.  Yesterday it went off four times in a row.  The alarm goes off, I run and turn it off, a minute passes and it goes off again!  Over and over!  This only seems to happen at home.  My neighbors are not pleased.

The Saab service guy, AKA Mr. Helpful:  Could be a weak alarm system.  You say you can turn if off with the fob?

Me:  Yes.

Mr. Helpful:  Then it's not that.  If it was a weak alarm system, you wouldn't be able to turn it off with the fob.

Me:  ...

Mr. Helpful:  You can bring it in and we can test it.  But if it's intermittent, we may not find it since it might not happen while it's here.

Me: It only seems to happen at home.

Mr. Helpful:  That might be hard to reproduce, then.

Me, gritting my teeth:  Is it possible that something in the neighborhood, like another person's alarm control is setting it off?

Mr. Helpful:  Sure!  There are only so many frequencies.  I've heard of that happening.

Me:  Is it possible to just turn the alarm off?  Permanently?

Mr. Helpful:  We can bypass the alarm mechanism but it'll run you about $250.  *pause* It can be done but it's not easy to get to.  You'll have to leave it and we'll give you a loaner.

I commit to nothing and get off the phone.  I vent to Hubs.  Hubs googles it and finds a slew of people reporting the same problem.

Hubs:  I found a fix on the Internet!

Me:  Great!

Hubs:  Get in the car, put the key in but turn the motor off.  Then press the "Night Panel" button.

Me:  Okay, and then what?

Hubs:  That's it.  I think you may have to hold the button for a few seconds.

Me:  That can't be all there is to it.

All the same, I go out to the car. With the key in and the motor off, I press "Night Panel" for three seconds.  The blinking indicator that shows the alarm is activated GOES OFF!!!

The alarm hasn't activated since.  For this tremendous effort they wanted $250.   

#$^*!%@  Saab!

Question du jour:  What percentage of car mechanics do you feel are honest?

* That would sound a whole lot tougher if the company was still in business and producing Saabs.  Nope!  They've gone under.  Can't imagine why.  *rolls eyes*

01 May 2012

"Strange brew--killin' what's inside of you" --Cream

I'd like to apologize to all my lady friends for not hosting a girls night out where we talk about Activia.

There, Jamie Lee.  Now, leave me alone!

Question du jour:  What's more ridiculous:  Jamie Lee's girls night for Activia or people believing Nutella is a nutritious breakfast for their kids?


06 April 2012

"The waiting is the hardest part" --Tom Petty

So, this happened:

Funny, funny guy!  That's right, I said "funny" twice, that's how funny he was!  Among other things, he's coined the phrase "doodle mud" for the orange cheese doodle dust that gets all over you and everything you touch.  Okay, it doesn't sound that funny when I say it but trust, it was.

And, last month we went to the rather famous Inn at Little Washington in Washington, VA (yeah, that's really a place) for my birthday dinner. 

Gotta love a place with a Monkey Bar!

This apple tart was ssssssssssooooooo good.

Lot's of lovely little surprises like this takeaway box in the shape of the inn with yummy treats inside.

I'd been hearing about the Inn at Little Washington for years as it routinely makes the top of dining critic lists.  Hubs worked it all out well in advance and on the day he insisted we leave early so we'd have plenty of time to get through rush hour traffic and unwind before dinner at the Gay Street Inn, where he'd booked us for the night.  We got there about three hours before dinner to this charming inn in the mountains.  Perfect!   

Except Hubs then realized he'd left his suit hanging in our bedroom.  ARGGGGGGHHH!  There was no way we could go home, grab the suit, and head back in time for dinner. 

What to do?!

The gracious innkeeper offered Hubs any of his own jackets but they were too big. 

Closest shopping?  Back in Warrenton... about half an hour away.  Oh, yes, that's exactly what we did.  We played beat the clock.  And at a Pebbles, no less.

I'd never been to a Pebbles before.  Seems to be on par with Kohl's.  But not quite so luxurious. 

Pebbles was on "mountain time".  I'm not talking about the clocks, I'm talking about the clerks.  We could have been one of those special effects films where the clerks are the people who appear to be standing perfectly still while we are moving so fast we are nothing but blurs.

Particularly bizarre moment (PBM) #1:

Me to male clerk who knows we're in a tremendous hurry because we've told him this no less than six times:  He's going to take that shirt but it's got wrinkles.  Would you have a steamer by any chance?
Male Clerk:  Yes, we have a steamer.
Me:  Could we use it?
Male Clerk:  Sure!  I was going to mention that.  We have a steamer in the back.
Hubs:  How long would that take?
Male Clerk:  45 minutes.  It takes a while to heat up.

45 minutes?!!! Are you freakin' kidding me?! Apparently, no, he was not freakin' kidding us.  Did it run on firewood?  We opted not to have him fire up the steamer.

PBM #2, in which smoke comes out of our ears:

Us:  We're in a rush.
Female Clerk, moving slower than a zombie:  Did you find everything you were looking for?
Hubs, quickly sliding clothes forward:  Yes, thanks.  Just this.
Female Clerk, sssssslowly rings up the three items and then pauses, says: You know, if you want to buy one more item, I can give you this shirt for only a dollar.
Me/Hubs in unison:  No, just this.  We're really in a rush.
Female Clerk:  Would you like to apply for a frequent shopper card?
ME/Hubs:  NO!  Thanks, just this.
Female Clerk:  If you sign up today, you're eligible for three free magazines...
Hubs:  The LAST thing I want is free magazines.  There's a reason they're free, you know.
Female Clerk:  Well, if you're sure...

We wanted to strangle both of them.  We grabbed the purchased clothes and headed back to Washington.  We called the innkeeper on the way and he had an ironing board, iron, and starch ready and waiting for us, bless him.  HE wasn't on mountain time.

That's when we popped the champagne Hubs had specially ordered and the celebration began.  By the way, I recommend HIGHLY both the Gay Street Inn and the Inn at Little Washington.  Fantastic! Both exceeded my rather ridiculously high expectations.  Go!  Just don't stop at the Warrenton Pebbles no matter what.

Meanwhile in other birthday news:  The folks at job #2 got me a cake and put a candle in it and sang happy birthday to me!  I was touched!  (In the good way. [Wait, that didn't come out right either.])  It's been a long time since any workmates bothered to do that for me.  Which leads to the question of the day:  Would you rather have your birthday acknowledged by workmates or not?

12 March 2012

"The first time ever I saw your face..." --Roberta Flack (and a million others)

I frequent a few different quick lunch places near workplace # 1.  Not fast food per se ("Ew."  "Seriously."  "That is so gross.") but some of the slightly better-for-you versions that I can purchase in five minutes and wolf down in three.  Yes, I'm a wolfer.  You're picturing me wolfing right now, aren't you?  Garsh, I'm purty.  

Speaking of purty, at one of these places, there is an employee with a mole the size of Nebraska on his face.  It's BIG.  Bigger than the mole in Austin Power's Goldmember (pictured here).  Seriously.  Easily triple the size.  It's distracting.  And unappetizing.  (Are there appetizing moles?  Or would those be beauty marks?)

Now, I'm more than a bit bespeckled myself so I get that this is not something that someone wants or chooses for themselves.  And if I was sporting anything close to this on my face, I'd be hightailing it to my dermatologist/plastic surgeon, even if I had to hit up a loan shark to finance it.

Judge me harshly if you must but my question is, based solely on this holy moley! fact:  Should this man be working in food service? 

07 March 2012

"What a drag it is getting old" --Rolling Stones


I will be turning 50 on March 16th.  Since I don't have a lot positive to say about that fact, I'll let the interwebs do my talking on why it's good to be 50...

The 50-ish wife comes up to her husband and says, 'So, Harvey. What do you think of my new bra-less look? Does it make me look younger?'

'It does!' Harvey says. 'It pulls all the wrinkles out of your face!'

The Perks of Being Over 50

  1. Your supply of brain cells is finally down to manageable size.

  2. Your secrets are safe with your friends because they can't remember them either.

  3. You sing along with elevator music.

  4. Your joints are more accurate meteorologists than the national weather service.

  5. You have a party and the neighbors don't even realize it.

  6. People call at 9 PM and ask, "Did I wake you?"

  7. People no longer view you as a hypochondriac.

  8. Things you buy now won't wear out.

  9. You can live without sex but not without glasses.

  10. You enjoy hearing about other peoples operations.

  11. You get into heated arguments about pension plans.

  12. You can eat dinner at 4 P.M.

  13. There is nothing left to learn the hard way.

  14. You no longer think of speed limits as a challenge.

  15. You quit trying to hold your stomach in, no matter who walks into the room.

  16. Your eyes won't get much worse.

  17. Your investment in health insurance is finally beginning to pay off.

  18. You can't remember where you saw this list.

  19. I've always heard how age doesn't show on men like it does on women.  Uh...


    Question du jour:  Is age "just a number" or life's little way of bringing Nelson Muntz to life?

21 February 2012

Assorted Flotsam

Two stupid things that taste great together...

1.  An open apology to the woman I didn't know at the President's Day gathering:

Me, finishing my first beer:  You look familiar.  Have we met before?

Her:  I don't think so.  I haven't been hanging out with these guys much until just recently.

Me, puzzled:  You really look familiar...

Friend:  Maybe you know each other through work?

Her:  I work at the [her workplace].

Me:  No, no, ...no.  Huh.  I could have sworn I've seen you before.  Maybe in my dreams.

*awkward pause all around*

Yeah, apparently, that was me hitting on you accidentally.  I meant to say "Maybe I'm dreaming" or "Maybe I dreamed it" but, no, I said "Maybe in my dreams".  Like I should be so lucky.  Like You're my dream girl.

Like, um, no.

So, yeah, sorry.  I'm sure you're a lovely person and your significant other, who was sitting right next to you, is a lucky fella, but I didn't actually mean to say you are my fantasy gal.

That would be Salma Hayek.

Question Uno:  What's the most inappropriate thing you've ever said by accident?  

2.  The metro cat theory...You know how every stairwell in every DC Metro station has that uber-pungent urine smell?  I think this is because Metro intentionally adds the pee smell to ensure people don't loiter in the stairwells.  Further, I'm convinced no human could create that kind of super strong urine smell.  It has to be a cat.  Because cat urine?  That's a FOREVER smell.  So, there must be some cat that Metro hires to pee in every stairwell.   But there are so many cats that COULD do the job.  Worthy cats.  Urine-rich cats.  Tough-minded "We don't need no stinkin' kitty litter" cats.

Question Dos:  How do they choose the Metro cat?

25 January 2012

"'Cause I don't believe you" --Crack the Sky

I've seen some pretty unbelievable things in movies.  Flying monkeys, wealthy Richard Gere falling in love with hooker Julia Roberts, all those mother-effin snakes on a plane... suffice to say that Hollywood has stretched my acceptance of what is possible until my brain is as rubbery as Newt Gingrich's wedding vows.

But last night... *shakes head in disgust*  ...last night, we watched The Emperor's Club.  This is a mediocre movie in which Kevin Kline plays a teacher at an exclusive boys prep school.  That I can buy, despite the very distracting fact that Kevin Kline has no lips.  This is almost as distracting as the fact that Whoopi Goldberg has no eyebrows.  See?  Check it.  None.

Just a line where his lips are supposed to be.  When he kisses you, is it like kissing grandpa without his teeth in?  Do you get enveloped by nose, chin and cheek?
Regardless, Kevin Kline, teacher, prep school--check.

What I can't buy, no matter what anybody says, is the time lapse in the film that shows this:

becoming this:

In what universe does dorky Jesse Eisenberg grow up to be sex symbol Patrick Dempsey?  Who the heck was in charge of this casting?  Stevie Wonder?

Question du jour:  What's the absolute stupidest thing you've ever seen in a movie?

Oh, and just because it's my blog and I can, here's another gratuitous shot of Patrick Dempsey:

You're welcome.

04 January 2012

"Something familiar, something peculiar..." --Stephen Sondheim

On Monday, I was off from Job 1 but worked Job 2.  During my luxurious 1/2 hour for lunch, I ran the two blocks to a little French cafe.  There, I ordered vegetable soup, a tuna melt and a drink and sat down, trying not to tap my foot impatiently.  Five minutes later, the waitress brought my lemonade and a lovely crock of vegetable soup and told me the tuna melt was on the way, which, happily, it was.  The soup looked nice.  The soup smelled lovely.  The soup tasted... well, it tasted good.  And quite familiar.  It was Progresso

I don't mean it tasted like canned soup.

I mean, this French cafe opened a can of Progresso vegetable soup, poured a small amount  in a small crock, nuked it for a minute, and charged me $3.50 for the pleasure.  Had I wandered into a scene from European Vacation?

Now, I am not anti-Progresso.  I am pro-Progresso.  If I were any more pro-Progresso I might go pro.  (I'm progressive that way.)  I recognized the soup because I have Progresso soups at home in the pantry for when I am sickly and weak and want a quick bowl of soup with truly minimal effort.  So, I wasn't put off, per se.  It just got me to wondering how often a restaurant dish is actually the result of opening a can or boxed frozen entree? 

So I am taking my wondering to the vast knowledge of the interwebs.  Questions du jour:  Have you ever "recognized" a portion of your meal?  Is there anything wrong with a restaurant doing this?  What percentage of your average restaurant (not fast food) meal do you think is completely pre-made?