Stinky Mimes...

I wanna live where this is necessary, people just wandering around...in traffic...in the desert...while hoola-hooping. I would laugh my ass off if there was an actual death or dismemberment that brought on this sign, some poor hoola-hooper just minding his own business, hooping around the desert and then splat...mowed over by a high-speed vehicle in the night (I'm assuming this would have happened in the dark as the desert is poorly lit at night and one could surely see a person with a hoola-hoop in the daytime...epsecially if they're not blind...Blind people should not be driving cars...unless they're Stevie Wonder, but that's another issue altogether).

I can only imagine the campaign that was launched to get this sign put up. I'm thinking the speech that nailed it home was something like this...

"Dammit, people! Bill WILL BE remembered! He couldn't do much, but he could hoop like no other. It was magnificent (in a very James Lipton kind of way) the way his hoop would go 'round 'n 'round! Ted Speederman has taken that away! This kind of carelessness must be stopped! No more hoopers will die!" (Viva la revelution! Chant, Chant, Chant!)

This would really only be funnier if the pedestrian representative was a mime, although, I have no idea how that would be conveyed on a street sign. Mimes are so quiet and sneaky you may not see them coming. Sure.

Trust me, people. You can always tell when a mime is coming. They have sort of an odor (I'm totally kidding), although I suppose you wouldn't smell that while carelessly racing through the desert (uh-huh, uh-huh) but I bet you could easily convey that on a street sign. I think it would go a little somethin' like this...

Nevermind. My fabulous artist rendering looks more like the ghost of a mime...a Scooby-Doo style villian maybe. Ahh, but the sign would still work if the ghost of a mime was haunting this particular stretch of desert road. On the flipside, my mime pedestrian representative could also pass for a mime puppet, possibly a possessed mime mariennette.

Either way, the entire concept of the hoola-hooper crossing is hilarious...and sort of reminiscent of when the deaf girl got run over by the train while text messaging...although after all the broo-ha-ha that discussion created, I will not be drawing the sign for that.

P.S. I think Katrina Kravy is slowly turning into Allison Gillman. If you live near Milwaukee, you know who they are.

Where's 'Slater' When You Need Him?

So, I watch/hear a lot of daytime TV...mostly on TNT. I really don't and haven't had time in years to watch a lot of the primetime and later night TV I would have liked. Basically I catch the shows I missed...years later, in re-run. Lately, I've been watching both hours of 'ER' (although, I actually still watch this on Thursday nights and BTW: WTF? was up with that season finale?), both hours of 'Judging Amy' (Because I came to realize this show wasn't nearly as sappy as it seemed when it was on) and then suddenly because I'm lazy, I just stopped changing the channel when 'NYPD Blue' started right after 'Amy'.

I actually watched 'NYPD Blue' when it was on, right up until Jimmy Smits died. The addition of Rick Shroeder scared the bejesus out of me, so I stopped watching and thus also missed the loss of Mr. Silver Spoons and the additions of Mark Paul Gosselaar and Esai Morales (Can anybody scream, "RICHIE!" from a bridge as well as he can? I don't think so. Sorry, I had to get a LaBamba reference in here somewhere). The re-runs I'm currently watching on TNT have both MPG and EM. Mmm...or so I thought.

I've been watching the 'NYPD Blue' re-runs for about three weeks now. Luckily, like 'ER' this show was on forever and one can easily pick it back up after a long time away. Nothing ever really changes, I guess is what I mean. Plus, along with EM and MPG, they also got Charlotte Ross, and as a child who grew up with a mother that watched 'Days of Our Lives', I remember her as Evie (daughter of Shane)...and then from failed (although it wasn't given much of a real chance) show 'The Heights'.

Everything was going well. MPG is still ultra-adorable. He even looks like he fits in with the cast and for all intents and purposes, he's not a horrible actor, nor was he a horrible addition to 'NYPD Blue' (EM on the other hand could have spent more time with less clothing on, but hey, it was what it was). MPG as Detective Clark even seemed convincing doing cop things and hangin' with Dennis Franz...

Anway, Sipowicz and Connie were having a battle for her sister's baby and planning to get married on the sly. MPG got a new girlfriend once the whole 'framed' thing went away and his dad died. Just swell...until yesterday.

MPG as Detective Clark was mostly naked, pouring honey from a honey bear (was there a need to drag the poor bear into this) on his mostly naked new girlfriend's back and licking it off. This would have been fine if it had been anyone other than MPG, formerly Zack Morris...wholesome, wholesome Zack Morris. I literally started to feel queasy and had to look away from the TV until it was over.

No one of the original 'Saved by the Bell' cast should be licking anything off of anyone in prime time or whatever...except for Tiffany Amber Theisen, whom actually wasn't a part of the original cast but anyway (I got over the trauma of her being naughty when she joined the 90210 cast and basically lost her mind). It was one of the most disturbing things I've ever had to witness, especially since no matter how old he gets, MPG will always be Zack Morris to me and like I said, wholesome. Where is Slater when you need him? Even the homo-erotic tendencies of his relationship with Zack Morris were less detrimental to my fragile mental health than seeing MPG licking the back of a half-naked woman, adult themed TV or not! I think I would have rather just seen Dennis Franz's naked ass again...at least that didn't mess with my childhood memories as much as the honey licking thing.

Wooo-Hooo!

The writer of this blog has been stricken with Spring Fever. She is feisty, her brain is lost and she is unable to sit still long enough to write a long-winded post about anything, and even if she could, it would be further delayed by her constantly looking out the windows to her right, out into the sunny world around her. This may also involve her leaping from her desk chair to dive out said window as any pre-thought of 'door' wouldn't be thought of quick enough. It's seventy two degrees, the sun is shining. Said blogger will return though. This is Wisconsin and good weather never lasts for as long as one would like. We are expecting rain later tonite, so maybe said blogger will finally be able to slow down long enough to finish at least one of many started and abandoned posts/drafts just sitting in the bin mocking her. Until then, said blogger will be starting and abandoning many other projects she feels are urgently goddamned important at the time or possibly taking photos of 'Final Battle Mal' and 'Not Fade Away Angel' riding around on extraneous My Little Ponies and battling the evil, stinky monkey kitch (not to be confused with John Madden's Itchy Monkey).

Live Birth Under Water...

[83 is an excellent number. I like the way it looks. Sorry about that.]

So, here's the second installment of, "Sometimes, My Mom Just Scares the Crap Of Me" (Remember the last time...when she sent me the picture of the dress made all of unwrapped condoms and I had oh, so many unanswerable questions? Ahh, special times.)...Or what I am now calling...since we're right on top of it, "Happy Mother's Day Mom! Sometimes, You Really Scare the Crap Out of Me".

I was sitting here, thinking about what I should do. I figured it should be something good and productive seeing as how I've been up for quite some time now and have not accomplished one single thing all damned day. I was watchin' some 'Little House', pokin' around the internet...pretty much the same old, same old.

I went to check in on my e-mail, one of the few things I've bided my time with today and there it is, an e-mail from my mother...with an attachment. I opened it, thinking that it would be something lame and very nearly 47 year old-ish humor. That's the sort of thing she generally sends and it's because she has a mailing list, like many people, that I, like so many others out there, get to be right at the top of simply because I am her offspring. She's careless with the internet and thus is why I pay the fine Norton anti-virus people to protect me.

It was a video clip, but I had to click through an astounding number of 'forwards' just to get to what essentially amounted to a public television played commercial with a man waking up 'the morning after' in a cage at the zoo to find a monkey humping his leg and spanking his ass. Apparently, this was all the result of the man having had too much beer the night before and something about how he should have had root-beer instead. This commercial was for IBC Root Beer, or whatever the fuck it's called.

First I wondered what's with the man and the monkey? Was this supposed to make me want a frothy, cold root-beer? Never once in my life have these to things ever even crossed my mind in reference to root-beer.

And what the hell happened to public television. Had they lost their minds? Did they think sex could sell root-beer to their viewers and thus make them a good chunk of change in the Ad Dept.? Couldn't they have just had another pledge show/auction? BEG would buy stuff. And what were they thinking in getting this ad...an ad that clearly is all wrong and improperly geared, especially on their station?

This concept will never win over the beer drinkers. They will not switch from beer to root-beer just as they aren't likely to switch from ESPN to PBS anytime soon. Secondly, IBC people, they will not switch to root-beer because continuing to drink beer might mean they will wake up from a black-out to find a monkey humping their legs.

Beer drinkers would go to the zoo to taunt the monkeys into humping their legs for the sheer fun of it. No real beer drinker wakes up from a black-out in the zoo. The beer drinker had already been their to rile up the monkeys long before this jack-ass. The beer drinker is already gone and on his way to Der Waffle Haus to meet his stinky, grubby friends to go wading through the mucky swamp all morning. And no real beer drinker watches public television anyway.

Hardcore root-beer drinkers watch public television, IBC in particular. So IBC you're trying to appeal to a market you already have. The commercial should have been a dorky guy waking up with a hot chick to remember, because he had root-beer and not beer the night before, exactly how he got there. Root-beer drinkers remember things, which is exactly what the original commercial expressed in it's sort of terrifying way.

But, in the end, there was the fact that it was funny and I could see why it was out there floating around in my mother's reach...and finally, why she had e-mailed it to everyone she's ever possessed an e-mail address for.

A little while later though, I was still slacking and dropped in on my e-mail again to see what was goin' on. I got another e-mail from mom. It also had an attachement, but this time, there was cause for concern. This new e-mail was sent only to me...

She does this occassionally, sends me something she doesn't send to anyone else and it's usually the most peculiar crap she could come up with and generally has me worried for her safety. I'm tellin' ya, that condom dress was on the very low craziness end of the wacko scale. Often times, these e-mails have me wondering if I should get her a helmet and a bus pass just in case.

I can tell you this also, the second e-mail's attachment is also a video clip and that I haven't watched it yet because I'm still stuck back at the title...'Live Birth Under Water'. God only knows what the hell it could be. Knowing my mother, it could actually be a live underwater birth...and that's just not something I need to see. So, for now, I live in speculation.

Happy Mother's Day, mom. Be surpised when you open that box and see the helmet and bus pass!

Desperately Seeking Schwartz...

Why don't I have 'Spaceballs' on DVD? I have like 500 other DVDs, and that's not an exaggeration. Why isn't that one in the collection? It seems like a movie I should have. And what worries me more, I don't have it on VHS either...so there's like no 'Spaceballs' in my general vaccinity.

And why all of a sudden do I desperately need to watch 'Spaceballs'? It seems a little strange to me. I don't believe this has ever been a crisis before...wanting to watch that movie and not having it I mean. It's not like I have said, done or seen anything, etc. to have encouraged Spaceballs to pop up in my head. And why the hell hasn't it been on TV lately?

TBS, Why aren't you airing 'Spaceballs' every two hours like you used to in the good ol' days? Where are my three chances to watch, TNT?

Where is my Druish princess? Where's my 'Spaceballs' desert pick and my 'Spaceballs' toilet paper. Where's my statue on the beach and mocking 'Planet of the Apes'...apes. Where else can you see Dick Van Patten these days?

Sometimes you just need to see a slimy, little alien in straw hat, claw out of a a man's chest and woop it up all Vaudeville style. Sometimes the desert needs to be combed. And sometimes ya just need Schwartz...

That's An Ostritch!

I don't like that I live in a world where every two minutes, The Bionic Woman tries to sell me a mechanical bed via the television. I don't know what they're tryin' to acccomplish, but I also don't know anyone who would buy a bed from the TV, let alone Lindsay Wagner. Does she even need a bed? Does she sleep? Why don't you just sign up The Incredible Hulk to sell Avon door-to-door in full 'Hulk' mode?

I also don't like that I live in a word where a product/tool called 'The Luma-Tweeze' exists and I can own it for just $19.95. How picky do you have to be to need a lighted, magnifing tweezers?

That's an ostritch!

Can someone please tell me when the new Enya CD became the so-called perfect gift for Mother's Day? It's more like the perfect gift for someone with insomnia. My mom works. She might be tired, but I really don't think she needs an Enya-induced coma for Mother's Day. Even these cats can't handle it...

So, there was blog-surfing. I saw on some religious freak's blog that their headline is actually, "...Been there, done that, NOTHING compares to Jesus!" WTF??? NOTHING compares to Jesus? I've had sex...and ice cream... Orgasms and Hagen Daaz win over church any day. Also, if this 'NOTHING compares to Jesus were true, Sinead O'Connor would have been a completely different type of person. I like her just the way she is...tearin' up pictures of The Pope and all and with her neo-nazi boot camp look! This of course only got stranger when I clicked the number it told me to and was taken to another blog. That one's latest post was titled, "Been There, Done That". Apparently everyone was over everything yesterday. And then literally the next time I clicked it was KP's blog and her post about how it's okay to spank her (very literally, I suspect) for not being more on top of her blogging. The blog-verse is such a special place!

I am a little worried about the number of people out there blogging about the Tempra-IC (Instant Cool) self-refrigerating beverage can though. It's just baffling (16, after I started counting). Don't people have anything better to do? I hear there's a line forming to spank KP as I blog this. And secondly, the entire idea of this much technology for a beverage can really freaks me out. Tomorrow I'll probably wake up in an 'I Robot' kind of world and there'll be a Cylon sitting on my front steps waiting to impregnate me with a programmed-love-child...and wouldn't that just be too much? The speed at which the world around me produces new technology now days is just insane! Geeks! Slow down a little. I don't want a toaster shaped baby! I don't even put my soda in the refrigerator!

I'm not sure if this is technology moving forward or backwards. But hey, who doesn't love LEGOS?

Also, disturbing to know, while watching a 'Kate & Allie' marathon (don't ask), Chip was rattling off statistics. Back when that show was on, there was only one murder in this country every two and a half hours! Hmmm. Maybe they should revive the show and get the country back on track, although, after having suffered through the 'Annie on Broadway' casts version of how mentruation works many times in my youth, I don't know how well I'd take to seeing that girl that was Jenny ever again.

Cheap swords? I'm sorry, but I think if you're gonna buy a sword, it should be quality. Swords aren't a place for skimping to save a buck or two...and you never really know when a swarm of dragons may show up on your block!

And finally, I don't have even the faintest clue what this is, but it's Japanese and it scares the bejesus out of me! Those damned wacky Japanese!

Uninspired Rescue...

I was google image searching the word 'RESCUE' the other day looking for inspiration for the TV show BEG and I have been developing for like a year now and this is the very first picture that came up...


This was named 'Rescue'. Clearly, this is just the head of a moose. I do not consider this a rescue. The word 'RESCUE' implies that something has been save and is still viable. This moose was definitely not rescued, as it is just the bloody head. It should have been named 'Souvenier' or 'Kept' or if you want another 're' word...recovered. Not rescued!

This is the second picture that came up...

This photo was also named 'Rescue'. Seriously, whom were they trying to fool by naming it that? This girl is shopping. She isn't saving anything. She isn't rescuing the pants from the racks of the evil store empire. They're probably just having a sale and if she's saving anything it's money. Buying the pants and taking them out of the evil store/mall has no effect on the pants. The pants do not care where they are.

So, needless to say, I was not inspired to do anything for the TV show...although, I did go on a shopping spree for new spring/summer clothing and shoes today, so maybe I was inspired afterall!

Assault on My Senses...

(Dually posted on 10th & Park)

Dear People outside of my house (let's say those within a five house radius to mine),

It's warm today. My windows are open so I don't have to spend another dark gloomy day feeling like I am suffocating (this does not mean it is not still dark and gloomy). They are open to air out a large stuffy house that has been all closed up since the end of November. They are NOT however open so you can just fucking assault my senses.

It's cool if you want to listen to your slow-jams or your gansta rap. I don't mind. I even like some of it...when it's at a reasonable volume and not blaring to fight with someone else's respective slow-jams/gansta rap and the ten gillion pimped out rice-grinders you people instist on racing around here all day and night long.

It's a wonder Sammy is deaf. Yeah, you people know Sammy. Don't pretend like you have no idea what I'm talking about. The man lived in the house next door to mine for eight years now and he can't hear a damned thing.

It's not necessary to have a sound war. It is also not necessary to yell out to your homeboy Javan when he is all the way down at the other end of the block with his stereo thumpin' away. Javan cannot hear you! The only reason I can hear you is because you chose to stop right outside my open windows and scream for him at the top of you lungs...not once, but seven times before you finally gave up and walked your fat ass down there!

Also, while we're still on the topic of loud. In the middle of the night, it's hard to make the distinction between gunfire and fire-crackers. I think if you're going to make the loud sounds and disturb us all anyway, you should begin doing so by yelling either FIRECRACKER or GUNFIRE. At least give the white people a chance to duck since we clearly have no idea why you continue to shoot at each other and break beer bottles over each other's heads.

I don't think we want to know. Just go about your business and leave us out of it. This new rule also applies to those of you who think it's ok to bounce a basketball lazily down the sidewalk in the dead of night. I don't know why you do this. I don't want to know. Just yell, "BASKETBALL!" and get on your merry way.

Next, in the long line of my many senses you wreck on a daily basis all warm weather season long... It is just not necessary to fire up the grill every night. No one needs that much grilled meat...if that's a name that can be applied to any of the things you're grilling. On a side note, if whatever you're grilling is not traditionally thought of as a farm animal, I am not interested. I don't care to eat the raccoon you shot digging through your garbage last night (BTW: You should have yelled 'GUNFIRE'. I almost peed my pants!).

And once again, it was NOT necessary to yell down to Javan that you shot the raccoon. Javan cannot hear you.

The Most Unconvincing Contest Ever...

So, I was sitting here on the phone with BEG, at my desk with a brand new bag of Cheetos Puffs. I was getting ready to open it up, but since it's rude to chew on the phone and generally makes talking and understanding difficult I waited...reading the stuff on the bag. I do this a lot. No shocker.

This is what the front of the bag looks like...

I notice they're having a contest of some sort, so I read the pretend 'Cheesy Tribune' Chester is holding on the front of the bag. This is what it says...

Cheetos Recipe Stolen??? I'm confused.

If the recipe was stolen, how did they make the Cheetos currently in the bag. Pretty hard to make something without a recipe and if it isn't, why are they looking for the recipe? Why is it important enough to have an entire contest about if they can already make them and don't really need to recover it?

Let's say the recipe, which BEG tells me practically doesn't even exist (she saw a show on TV about how they make the puff Cheetos...she's such a food network junkie), is missing, are the Cheetos in my bag right now, Cheetos that have been laying about at the Cheetos factory for a while, from before the recipe was stolen? I don't want old, Cheetos. They could have bugs or something.

Who the hell would even want to steal the Cheetos recipe? Does Chester now have some arch-nemesis out there, stealing recipes and trying to build his or her own bigger and more bad-ass cheesy poof empire? I shudder to think. Was it some covert, ninja operation? Did they sneak in, by the light of the moon and frolic around the Cheetos plant searching for the already pretty much self explanatory recipe which had been kept in a locked glass case under the watchful, but sleepy eyes of Sam the security gauard, who I can imagine has now been let go because of his life-altering screw up?

It's Cheetos, people. Nothing about them is life-altering. They're just tasty.

This is the most unconvincing basis for a contest ever. Recipe stolen? Whatever. They could have at least come up with a better story. Hell, they could have come out and said terrorists have taken over the factory and we need to rescue Chester and the puffs supply. I could've gotten on board for that one.