I crack up every single time I see the Diet Pepsi Max commercial, with Chris Kattan picking up his dry cleaning at the end saying, "Oh, stop it!"
And good for Haddaway, he'll get a few royalty dollars out of it.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Rush Limbaugh: American Traitor
Paraphrasing one of my heroes, Keith Olbermann, my vote for Worst Person in the World today is Rush Limbaugh, who believes that inciting his dittohead moron listeners to subvert the core of our democracy by undermining the election process is either a) protected free speech, or b) funny.
Shouldn't this be considered treason? What do we do with traitors, ladies and gentlemen?
Shouldn't this be considered treason? What do we do with traitors, ladies and gentlemen?
The Temple of Meat
Last week we went out for an oft-delayed "holiday" dinner hosted by one of our vendors, and we found ourselves in a midtown church of the carnivore called Del Frisco's.
It's been a long time since I've been in a place that pays homage to the big swinging dickery of the testosterone-heavy half of the population, and I honestly thought that places like this had become some kind of anachronism. I guess since I have spent the last few years actively avoiding hanging out with the kind of guys who populated the tables here, I guess I made the mistaken assumption that they didn't really exist anymore. Let me tell you, the bloated white-collar tick is alive and well in midtown Manhattan, and is no more likeable than he was in 1988. So homo-testosteroney was the atmosphere in this restaurant that I thought they would stage a circle-jerk when Rudolph Giuliani walked in. The 18-inch necks at the next table looked like dogs ready to pee in place when he came up the stairs. For the record, Rudy is shorter than I thought, and as a Bensonhurst-reared co-worker responded, "What did you expect? He's ITALIAN."
The other notable feature of the patrons of the restaurant was their dates -- every single one of them clearly bought and paid for. Whether or not any one of these chicks could carry on a conversation was obviously beside the point; what was more important was whether or not they could stand upright while carrying their remarkable pairs of aftermarket boobs. Along with free-market secondary sex attributes, you saw a lot of ash-blonde frost'n'tip dye jobs in a shade I like to call "Atlanta Blonde."
Now, on to the food. I have no complaints about a single thing that hit our table; honestly, it was one of the best steaks I've ever eaten (and I've eaten in pretty much every steak house in NYC). The service was amazing, and our little waiter, Matt, was so adorable I wanted to put him in my pocket and take him home. I guess if you are a waiter in a restaurant where the tab on a table of 10 people must come close to 3G's, the prospect of a 15-20% tip on such a tab pretty much guarantees that you'll give great service. Those must be the most coveted waitering jobs in Manhattan.
All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable evening, but not one that I ever want to pay for with my own money...I'll happily let someone else's expense account pay for it!
It's been a long time since I've been in a place that pays homage to the big swinging dickery of the testosterone-heavy half of the population, and I honestly thought that places like this had become some kind of anachronism. I guess since I have spent the last few years actively avoiding hanging out with the kind of guys who populated the tables here, I guess I made the mistaken assumption that they didn't really exist anymore. Let me tell you, the bloated white-collar tick is alive and well in midtown Manhattan, and is no more likeable than he was in 1988. So homo-testosteroney was the atmosphere in this restaurant that I thought they would stage a circle-jerk when Rudolph Giuliani walked in. The 18-inch necks at the next table looked like dogs ready to pee in place when he came up the stairs. For the record, Rudy is shorter than I thought, and as a Bensonhurst-reared co-worker responded, "What did you expect? He's ITALIAN."
The other notable feature of the patrons of the restaurant was their dates -- every single one of them clearly bought and paid for. Whether or not any one of these chicks could carry on a conversation was obviously beside the point; what was more important was whether or not they could stand upright while carrying their remarkable pairs of aftermarket boobs. Along with free-market secondary sex attributes, you saw a lot of ash-blonde frost'n'tip dye jobs in a shade I like to call "Atlanta Blonde."
Now, on to the food. I have no complaints about a single thing that hit our table; honestly, it was one of the best steaks I've ever eaten (and I've eaten in pretty much every steak house in NYC). The service was amazing, and our little waiter, Matt, was so adorable I wanted to put him in my pocket and take him home. I guess if you are a waiter in a restaurant where the tab on a table of 10 people must come close to 3G's, the prospect of a 15-20% tip on such a tab pretty much guarantees that you'll give great service. Those must be the most coveted waitering jobs in Manhattan.
All in all, a thoroughly enjoyable evening, but not one that I ever want to pay for with my own money...I'll happily let someone else's expense account pay for it!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Black is Black
Today's interesting conversation about race, with two women at work. Both happen to be black women. All three of us are (shameful confession ahead!) America's Next Top Model junkies, and we were talking about who was our favorite winner of all time. I threw out "I looved Danielle," and both of them looked puzzled and said, "I don't remember her."
"She was the African-American girl with the gap in her teeth."
Pause.
"You know, you're allowed to say 'black.' You don't have to be all politically correct..."
I was a little flustered, and responded, "I know what you mean. It doesn't bother me at all when people call me 'oriental.'"
Their vehement response:
"OH NOOOO, I couldn't ever say that! Who says that anymore? That's just WRONG!"
"She was the African-American girl with the gap in her teeth."
Pause.
"You know, you're allowed to say 'black.' You don't have to be all politically correct..."
I was a little flustered, and responded, "I know what you mean. It doesn't bother me at all when people call me 'oriental.'"
Their vehement response:
"OH NOOOO, I couldn't ever say that! Who says that anymore? That's just WRONG!"
Today's Word
If you sense danger and are feeling watchful and cautious, you are not "weary."
You are WARY.
Pronounced as if you are saying the 2nd syllable of the word "beware."
You are WARY.
Pronounced as if you are saying the 2nd syllable of the word "beware."
Dear Senator Clinton
You know I love you, but, please, please, please stop doing this with your eyes:
It makes you look a little scary, and a lot crazy.
It makes you look a little scary, and a lot crazy.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Spitzer
I can't believe how bummed I am about Eliot Spitzer. I mean, the guy was one of my HEROES, fachrissakes. It's like finding out that Morris Dees was secretly burning crosses and hanging Nazi flags in his basement.
*sigh*
But I did find the FOX Noise report tonight kind of amusing. They interviewed one of the call girl's neighbors outside her $5,000 a month building, and this knuckleheaded chick said something like, "If she lives in a building like this, she shouldn't have to be selling herself." Earth to airhead, how do you THINK a 24-year old can pay for a $5,000 a month apartment? Then Rosanna Scotto says, "Find out what her mother has to say about it..." I switched channels, but I can imagine that Mom probably said something along the lines of,
"HOLY SHIT, my daughter's a HOOKER!"
*sigh*
But I did find the FOX Noise report tonight kind of amusing. They interviewed one of the call girl's neighbors outside her $5,000 a month building, and this knuckleheaded chick said something like, "If she lives in a building like this, she shouldn't have to be selling herself." Earth to airhead, how do you THINK a 24-year old can pay for a $5,000 a month apartment? Then Rosanna Scotto says, "Find out what her mother has to say about it..." I switched channels, but I can imagine that Mom probably said something along the lines of,
"HOLY SHIT, my daughter's a HOOKER!"
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Louis Vuitton to use Keith Richards' Face to Make Luggage
Oh, wait. I meant to say that he is going to be the new face of Louis Vuitton, and they're going to use him to SELL luggage.
But it still works the other way around, I think.
But it still works the other way around, I think.
What Was The Biggest Clue That It Might Not Be True?
Ummmm, would it have been, uh, er, the fact that she claimed to have been sheltered by PACKS OF WOLVES?????
I just don't understand. Do people need so desperately to believe every tall tale they hear that they will, in total gullibility, believe even the unbelieveable?
Now this one.
Sheesh.
Now, here's a fun memoir you oughta read. I love Lily Burana!
I just don't understand. Do people need so desperately to believe every tall tale they hear that they will, in total gullibility, believe even the unbelieveable?
Now this one.
Sheesh.
Now, here's a fun memoir you oughta read. I love Lily Burana!
Monday, March 3, 2008
A Little Sad
Wow...was cruising the pics on an old friend's website, and came upon this one:
That's Janey on the right with WTC Tower 1 looming.
That's Janey on the right with WTC Tower 1 looming.
You're Gonna Need a Bigger Boat
I am so ashamed that I never posted this:
Roy Scheider, R.I.P.
11/10/32 - 2/10/08
Without you, this blog wouldn't have a name.
My preteen self thought Roy was a fox.
I think it was his big nose. I happen to love guys with big noses.
Roy Scheider, R.I.P.
11/10/32 - 2/10/08
Without you, this blog wouldn't have a name.
My preteen self thought Roy was a fox.
I think it was his big nose. I happen to love guys with big noses.