Ok, now listen up, people.  You know how you get those annoying songs stuck in your head and you just can’t shake them no matter how hard you try?  Well, all morning, I’ve had one of those earworms playing over and over inside my melon except that today’s is a song that I really really like.  Today I have ‘L’Amour Looks Something Like You’ by Kate Bush stuck in my noggin.  So I’m going to need all of you (yes, Dana, especially you!) to NOT mention any other songs or make any sideways references to any 70’s sitcoms (those songs are the worst offenders!) or, god forbid, walk past me humming some old but uber-catchy litte ditty.  Keep your damn dittys to yourself!  Got it?  Good!

Now then, you may carry on about your business.  Nothing more to see here. 

Just keep it quiet, k?

An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing.

A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, ‘Can I also sit like you and do nothing?’ The eagle answered: ‘Sure, why not.’

So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested. All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.

Moral of the story:
To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.

Oh, and speaking of rabbits....

Way

too

tired.

*THUD*

I am going through a ‘study at home’ book and, for whatever reason, the author uses the word ‘whilst’ once every 5th word or so.  Now, I myseff have used this word on occasion but generally when I’m just trying to be cute.  Or wordsome-full.  Or British.  But this guy has just gone overboard.  He’s got whilsts coming out of his ass!  It’s like:

Be sure to hold down the command key whilst clicking on the subject.
This tool can easily be used whilst using another tool of the same class.
The pen can draw a shape whilst filling it with a color at the same time.
I whilsted my whilsty whilst whilsting over by the whilster.

See what I mean?  And now I’m pissed because the word whilst has completely lost all meaning.  Oh well, I guess that’s whilst for now.  I whilst you all later.

Whilst!

I am one rude dude.  Let me ‘splain.  Yesterday morning, I was at work and decided to call my pal, the Meester.  I picked up the phone (which is a minor miracle in itself; I don’t really do the phone thing), and dialed his number.  The call went something like this:

*chaclick* “Hello?”

“Yo!!!  Meester!!  Meestaroni!  Ma man!  Meester Man!  Ma main Manster!!!  The Mansteroni!  How’s it going buddy?  It’s the Boozer!  What up, like, dawg?”

“Well......”

“Big daddy-o!!  How’s work?  How’s the Missus?  How’s the mini??  How’s it hangin’?  haha!!  Hangin’.  Hoo!”

“Well....”

“Oh crap, dude.  I just realized that I have a meeting.  Like, now.  I’ll have to call you back.  Take it easy, bro.  Bro-ster!  The bro-man!  Haha!  Later dude!”

“Ummm.....ok then I’ll just......”

*chaclick*

Yeah, I think my social graces and phone skills might need a little buffing up. 

I was trying to think of who to use for a quick Eye Candy Friday™ before we head out for the evening and I just kept coming up blank.  Nothing was really floating my boat, yanno?  Then it hit me.  If none of today’s stars are fitting the bill, how about a few stars from days gone by?  Yeah, perfect.  So here you go.  A few classic shots of some of my favorite Hollywood legends. 

Fay Wray, Steve McQueen, Brigitte Bardot, James Dean, Marilyn (of course) and my all time fave, Cary Grant.  Have a nice weekend everyone!  Slainte!

Holy craps, people!  I almost got car-clobbered twice today!  The first time was in a great big parking lot that happened to be nearly empty.  I was backing out of my parking spot when some lunatic driving across the lot (not in the aisles but across the spots themselves) damn near pancaked me.  It’s hard to believe that he wasn’t paying attention considering the fact that he was motoring across the lot at about 60 miles an hour!  Ok, maybe 30.  He had to come to a very abrupt halt to avoid smacking into me.  Dang, dude!

The second near miss was on my way home from that parking lot.  I was driving down a main(ish) street and some whack job on a side street decided at the last second that he wasn’t going to be able to cut me off and had to slam on his brakes.  No matter that he had a stop sign, I suppose.  Now, it’s bad enough that I almost got schmeared twice in a period of about four minutes but here’s the REALLY weird part.  Both near misses…

...were the same guy!!

This guy must hate me!  He looked to be about 70 years old with a Bing Crosby hat and a beat up old Lincoln something-or-other.  Isn’t that crazy?  What the hell did I ever do to him? 

I’m ok now, of course.  I’m home, taking it easy.  Just relaxin’ and a-chillin’.

In my freakin’ Kevlar vest!

Well, it doesn’t happen as often as I’d like but I managed to finish another book.  This one is called ‘The Big Over Easy’ by Jasper Fforde.  It was, oddly enough, about the murder of Humpty Dumpty.  Yep, that Humpty Dumpty.  You know how some writers really make you want to read more?  I remember spending tons of time reading all of the Vampire books that Anne Rice wrote and I just couldn’t read them fast enough.  I think that the Harry Potter books are the same way.  The more you read the more you want to. 

It’s a little different with Jasper Fforde, for me anyway.  When I read his books, it makes me wish I could write more.  His writing style is so smart and witty and silly and easy on the eyes.  It’s inspiring.  If you are ever in a mood for that sort of thing, I highly recommend starting with his “Thursday Next” series.  I think the first one is called ‘The Eyre Affair’.  Excellent book.  Fun.

And now, as if the last batch of Fforde books weren’t enough, I’m off to read ‘The Fourth Bear’.  I’m in my own happy little rut.  So sue me.

Every morning, while I get ready for work, I put on the local morning news.  And since I live on the outskirts of Philly, most of the local morning news is about murder and mayhem (and no, I’m not just talking about the Phillies this time).  So, I’m watching the boob tube this morning and, sure enough, they start talking about a recent murder or four (might have only been three but who’s really counting at this point?).  Then, and this is the best and the worst part all rolled up into one, they do their “man on the street” interview.  I swear to god, they must bus these people in.  First of all, if you want to be a Philly “man on the street”, I think I can help.  First of all, you should know that your chances grow in relation to the number of teeth that you have.  The fewer the teeth, the more likely the interview.  Simple.  Additionally, you stand a much better chance of getting some air time if you say “axe” instead of ask and do a lot of mumbling.  If you can make your eyes shake nervously in their sockets, you’re a shoo-in.

Today’s “man on the street” was actually a woman.  She was somewhere between 18 and 67 years old (the crack makes it so hard to tell these days) and kept putting an unlit cigarette in her mouth, then taking it out, putting it in, taking it out.  She stammered a lot, had about 7 teeth (jolly good job on that one), thought that the suspect seemed “nice” and didn’t actually know anything about anything.  Her complete lack of knowledge about the situation leads me to the obvious conclusion that she was interviewed on the basis of looks alone.  That’s profiling.  And as we all know, profiling is bad.

I think maybe it’s time to turn off the morning TV, put on a little ‘Dusty in Memphis’ and start my day off a little better.  What do you think?

Gah.  I’m feeling kind of ripped off.  See, yesterday I had the need to open up a brand new jar of peanut butter, and by “need” I mean that I was chopping up some celery and who can resist celery and peanut butter, right?  Can I have an AMEN??!  Yayeah!!  Anyhoo, I opened up the jar and instead of that old vacuum whoosh and explosion of peanut smell, I was confronted with a WAY-too-hard to remove piece of security cardboard snuggling protectively over the opening to the jar.  I struggled for a minute or two to get this barrier of perfection off the jar and, once I had succeeded, tried to take a nice big whiff but the moment had passed.  Damn.  Are you old enough to remember that peanut butter jar experience?  Man, that was a special moment.  Kind of like the special moment when you could take deep snorts of the warm and recently mimeographed paper of yore.

But with less falling down.