Hunka hunka burnin’ wax. Tonight after work I followed Craig (from work, not Amber’s Queens Craig; that almost sounds like “Queequeg,” doesn’t it? weird) down to Graceland to set up camp and watch the thousands file in and out of the King’s gates to pay their respects on this, the 29th anniversary of his death. The gates opened up at 9, but the crowd was still surging when we got there at midnight or so.…
Oinkers, oinkers everywhere and not a lump to tweak. Details Magazine, which seems to be about as insipid as any other magazine out there these days, is trumpeting its approval of the latest Hollywood craze — fatties! — by offering up a stupid story and a slideshow of bonafide fat cows. It’s a classy presentation, all right. You’ve got the pig in high heels as the slideshow’s splash page. And then if you pay attention…
Apparently I wasn’t on the randomly selected short list of bloggers to be included in the Blogger beta upgrade. The list of new features is impressive enough. Looks like categories will finally be an option (as opposed to just manual Technorati tagging), and there are more flexible layout options (that won’t be of much use to me since I don’t use a default template). I also see that they’ve added password protection, though I’m not…
I’m a disaster. I am late and usually unprepared. I rush and look around at various surfaces in my apartment to make sure I’ve not forgotten anything I need. I carry around the tackiest hot pink multi-pocketed bag you’ve ever seen, and it’s stocked with everything I would ever need if I got stranded on the side of the road somewhere. I often spill things on myself just enough to totally ruin a good shirt.…
I got out last night and met some pajama mafia members at a shindig organized by Serrabee, who has kindly posted a list of the attendees and a quote by yours truly that tells you, really, everything you need to know about me. I spent most of my time there talking to SB and ML, mostly about random observations and pop culture and stuff. I’d had three drinks, so I’m 82 percent sure I said…
“Everybody’s a jerk. You, me, this jerk.” This Bender costume is awesome, and it’s got me thinking ’bout Halloween (though not quite to the admirable degree of Mz. Jag, who is gearing up to throw the crunkest — yes, I said crunkest — H’ween party ever) and possibly maybe dressing up this year perhaps. (Possibly maybe perhaps not, as I’ll probably be working on Halloween night. But it’s fun to dream.) Last year’s H’ween night…
Today I smelled like grapefruit. What an odd thing to go around smelling like fruit when you haven’t touched any real fruit in days, maybe even weeks. I can’t even tell you the last time I handled a real grapefruit; I’m actually sort of repulsed by the things. Just thinking about them makes the little salivary glands in my jaw squirt. How unladylike! Though I do admire their color. I’ll tell you the (not-so-secret) secret.…
My pal and professional animal advocate Cheryl needs some help coming up with a cool T-shirt design for the upcoming Celebration Pet Day: If anyone knows anything about graphic design, and would love to help out the Shelbyville-Bedford County Humane Association, I’d REALLY appreciate it. We’d just love it to say Celebration Pet Day, have SBCHA somewhere on it, and a cool logo. Even if you just have ideas about a design, I’d love to…
• Talladega Nights was awesome. I was cracking up the entire time. Will Ferrell is such a frigging funny man and the rest of the cast was fantastic. I love me some Jane Lynch and John C. Reilly. And I second J.R.’s emotion that Gary Cole is a national treasure. And what about those precious children, especially the younger one, spewing out dirty words for my entertainment? Hilarious. “Well if it isn’t our mangy, transient…
Joe Francis, creator of the Girls Gone Wild culture blitz, is a peculiar character. And by peculiar, I mean reprehensible. Pitiable, even, if you’re into pitying rich jerkbags who have no soul. Enjoy this account of his barfarific shenanigans while you’re munching your wholesome Sunday brunch.
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