An old man once told me that the problem with programs today is that the theme song does not tell you everything you need to know about the show. He then preceded to cite "Lost" as a horrible show, having no theme song, and the very imformatively themed, "Giligan's Island," as the best program of all time.
Putting aside this peculiar theme song issue; the glut of horrid programming today is atrocious. On the train ride home today I perused through the tv listings on the back cover of the post. Here is what I found...
1) Farmer Wants a Wife: No wonder the CW is behind in ratings to not only the major networks, but also Univision. The summary provided, "The girls participate in a tractor race." Thrilling.
2) Living Lohan: reality program featuring the trainwreck that spawns more trainwrecks.
3) Celebrity Circus: Finally a vehicle to display the acrobatic and circus talents of joey fatone, greg brady, and a slew of "oh yeah, I remember that guy."
4) Russian Roulette: Game show where the if the contenstants miss questions the floor beneath them disappears and they fall to their doom. Only, it's not their doom, and more of a ball pit. Change ball pit to doom and we have a winner.
I think the old man had alzheimers.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Monday, June 09, 2008
Missing my son...
I was in a line at the supermarket the other day, and uhm... y'know, I had gotten my skim milk, and a dozen eggs and a loaf of bread. I am about to start assembling all my little things on the conveyor belt over there. And the lady in front of me that is... well, she' is flat out staring at me. She continues this and I'm getting a little nervous and uh, she continues to stare at me. And I stop a bit and sheepishly, I keep looking the other way. She inches closer and closer and she says to me: "I apologise for staring, that must have been annoying. It's just that you look so much like my son. He died and I just can't take my eyes off you." She pulls a tattered photograph of her son out of her purse. He looks absolutely nothing like me. In fact he's... Chinese. Well we chatted and continued our light banter. As it was wrapping up she says: "I'm sorry, I have to ask you. Would you mind, as I leave the supermarket here, would you mind saying "Goodbye mom" to me? I, I know it's a strange request but I haven't heard my son saying "Goodbye mom" to me, and it would mean so much to me to hear it. And I said: "Well, you know, okay, yeah, sure. Eh.. uh... I can say that." And, and so, she uh gets her groceries all checked out. And uh, as she's going out the door she waves at me and she hollers across the store: "Goodbye son!" And I look up and I wave and I say: "Goodbye mom!" And there she goes, and I go back to assembling my few little things on the conveyor belt and the clerk checks out my things. And uh, and he gives me the total and he says: "That'll be four hundred and seventy nine dollars." Uh... and I said: "Well, how is that possible! I've only got some tuna fish, and uh some skim milk, and a loaf of bread..." He goes: "Well, well you're also paying for the groceries for your mother. She uh, told me you'd take care of the bill for her." And I said: "Well, wait a minute! That's not my mother!" And he says: "Well I distinctly heard her say as she left the store "Bye son!" and you said "Bye mom!" and so what are you trying to say here, uh..." I said: "Well, JESUS!" And I looked out into the parking lot and she was just getting into her car. And I ran out there. And she was just closing the door, and she had a little bit of her leg sticking out of the door and she was pulling away and I grabbed her leg and I started PULLING it! Much like, i'm pulling yours...
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Hey, What'd You do Last Night?
How nice of you to ask. After a rather uneventful evening of watching Zoolander on a gigantic television, I ran over to the Pike house to pick up some random shit I had lying around.
As it turns out, I still can't say no to an invitation to a bar, so Camille (in her pajamas), Jack, and I depart for Marshall's, in a 4ride no less. As it turns out a $50,000 annual tuition check also includes a complimentary ride or two to the bar.
Jack, who is by no means an alcoholic, literally knows everyone that works at Marshall's. Everyone. It's reminiscent of my freshman days at the Exchange--more on that never. So we sit down with some drinks and begin to talk about what we always talk about--nothing. That's where it all went downhill.
Enter: jockish looking white guy who already appears to be kind of wasted. This gentleman comes up to Jack, and asks him to referee a game called who can finish an Irish Car Bomb faster. Sure, why the hell not. Cool, that takes 4.5 seconds and we return to our regularly scheduled drinking.
The guy sticks around and continues conversing with us, it appears Jack may or may not know him (it was hard to tell), so we indulge in his conversational whims. As it turns out he looks jocky because he in the Army and recently got back from Iraq. He's talking to us for a while shooting the shit and what not, when out of nowhere, the idea of the "Triathlon" enters the conversation. For you who remain unenlightened--and I was at the time--it's one of each of the following drank in quick succession:
So Camille, the already somewhat tipsy, Irish diehard that she is decides she can stand up to the hard drinking, U.S. Army Infantryman that is already undressing her with his eyes.
She clearly lost.
Now Captain America's putting the moves on. I'll spare you most of the details but I will say that an Eiffel Tower was discussed--seriously. If you need to ask, go to urban dictionary. Oh and the subject of his wife and young child came up. The kid's named Killian. You know, like the beer. Apparently its not cheating if its a threesome. Anyway, at last, a moment of opportunity: G.I. Joe goes to the bathroom, I grab Camille and we catch a cab the hell out of dodge without saying goodbye to anyone. Another boring ending to an otherwise bizarre set of circumstances.
Moral of the Story: Make sure you always have necessary cab fare for emergencies.
As it turns out, I still can't say no to an invitation to a bar, so Camille (in her pajamas), Jack, and I depart for Marshall's, in a 4ride no less. As it turns out a $50,000 annual tuition check also includes a complimentary ride or two to the bar.
Jack, who is by no means an alcoholic, literally knows everyone that works at Marshall's. Everyone. It's reminiscent of my freshman days at the Exchange--more on that never. So we sit down with some drinks and begin to talk about what we always talk about--nothing. That's where it all went downhill.
Enter: jockish looking white guy who already appears to be kind of wasted. This gentleman comes up to Jack, and asks him to referee a game called who can finish an Irish Car Bomb faster. Sure, why the hell not. Cool, that takes 4.5 seconds and we return to our regularly scheduled drinking.
The guy sticks around and continues conversing with us, it appears Jack may or may not know him (it was hard to tell), so we indulge in his conversational whims. As it turns out he looks jocky because he in the Army and recently got back from Iraq. He's talking to us for a while shooting the shit and what not, when out of nowhere, the idea of the "Triathlon" enters the conversation. For you who remain unenlightened--and I was at the time--it's one of each of the following drank in quick succession:
- Irish Car Bomb
- Jager Bomb
- Pint of Beer
So Camille, the already somewhat tipsy, Irish diehard that she is decides she can stand up to the hard drinking, U.S. Army Infantryman that is already undressing her with his eyes.
She clearly lost.
Now Captain America's putting the moves on. I'll spare you most of the details but I will say that an Eiffel Tower was discussed--seriously. If you need to ask, go to urban dictionary. Oh and the subject of his wife and young child came up. The kid's named Killian. You know, like the beer. Apparently its not cheating if its a threesome. Anyway, at last, a moment of opportunity: G.I. Joe goes to the bathroom, I grab Camille and we catch a cab the hell out of dodge without saying goodbye to anyone. Another boring ending to an otherwise bizarre set of circumstances.
Moral of the Story: Make sure you always have necessary cab fare for emergencies.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
London Mayor a Party Pooper
London's illustrious mayor Boris Johnson did something so ghastly, so unspeakable, that I'm going to speak of it. The man has singlehandedly banned booze on London's public transport network. Unlike puritanical America, where in some cities (read: Washington, D.C.) it's illegal to bring any type of food or water on the metro, London was a beacon of free ideas and social acceptance--of drinking on the Tube.This is the beginning of a slippery slope in London. The next thing you know, having a couple beers at lunch on a workday will be socially unacceptable. And then out of nowhere, all drinking will be banned in bars and pubs. It's a slippery slope Mayor Johnson, one that you don't want to go down.
In conclusion, it sucks that drinking has been banned on public transport, because that was one really cool thing about London. As Bob Crow, the Rail Maritime and Transport Union's Leader put it, "Perhaps the mayor will come out with his underpants on over his trousers like Superman one Saturday to show us how it should be done, and maybe tell a crowd of Liverpool supporters that they can't drink on the train."
Original Article here:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/london/7387113.stm
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Clinton easily wins Puerto Rico and Puerto Rico Doesn't Care!
I know some very fine and decent people who call Puerto Rico home, but excuse me if I don't care what the commonwealth things is the best candidate in a primary.
This was taken from the frontpage of MSN.com
"She (Hillary), former President Bill Clinton and their daughter, Chelsea, spent a combined 15 days in the commonwealth hoping to keep her relevant in the contest"
Voting officials did not expect a large turnout with most residents choosing to stay home.
The entire Clinton clan was clearly necessary to be in Puerto Rico to clinch the commonwealth with it's low level of voter engagement and high degree of voter protest.
Way to go Hillary, for taking a 15 day vacation...
This was taken from the frontpage of MSN.com
"She (Hillary), former President Bill Clinton and their daughter, Chelsea, spent a combined 15 days in the commonwealth hoping to keep her relevant in the contest"
Voting officials did not expect a large turnout with most residents choosing to stay home.
The entire Clinton clan was clearly necessary to be in Puerto Rico to clinch the commonwealth with it's low level of voter engagement and high degree of voter protest.
Way to go Hillary, for taking a 15 day vacation...
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The Continual Abuse of Expectant Mother Parking
So the parking lot at my office has 3 spots reserved for expectant mothers. I think this is a nice touch, it emphasizes the family values of the company and makes things a little easier for those who really shouldn't be walking long distances lugging any sort of bag.
As I entered in today a young lady pulled into the one of the reserved spaces. She got out and didn't appear to be pregnant with anything, maybe emotion.Of course I confronted her over this and I found out she is 5 weeks along. I have very little pregnant experience but 5 weeks doesn't seem like such a strain. She said she is pregnant and has every right to park there.Now that I don't care for.
There needs to be statutes and protocals in place to prevent this flagrant abuser. Where does it end; some scofflaw could be trying to institute parking there at conception. How about any girl who expects to have children at some point?
Smohog.
As I entered in today a young lady pulled into the one of the reserved spaces. She got out and didn't appear to be pregnant with anything, maybe emotion.Of course I confronted her over this and I found out she is 5 weeks along. I have very little pregnant experience but 5 weeks doesn't seem like such a strain. She said she is pregnant and has every right to park there.Now that I don't care for.
There needs to be statutes and protocals in place to prevent this flagrant abuser. Where does it end; some scofflaw could be trying to institute parking there at conception. How about any girl who expects to have children at some point?
Smohog.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Stop Correcting My Grammar
Let me qualify the above statement. Unless you know you're right, stop correcting my grammar. Why? Because it makes you look pompous and stupid at once. When you use bad grammar, I believe you should be corrected, but the corrector should make sure that the correction is, indeed, correct.
The following example is one that really just drives me off the wall:
Me: Hey do you want to meet me and Larry (the awesome bartender) at the Ebbitt for some delicious half off raw bar and drinks?
Idiot: It's Larry and I.
Me: You don't even know who he is!
The thing is, it's not Larry and I, you idiot. You could make the case that it should be "Larry and me," but to be honest with you, I just feel weird saying that. In the written form, I or me should always go last, but I think the English gurus give us a little more latitude when the spoken word.
It isn't Larry and I, and it's never going to be. Why not? Just take out Larry and see if it still makes sense. "Hey do you want to meet I?" No dice Chicago.
So if you're going to correct someone, make sure a. you're right, and b. it won't make you look like a total elitist.
We hope you enjoyed today's grammar lesson, and remember, if you don't have something nice to say, then don't say it. Unless you can support it with facts.
The following example is one that really just drives me off the wall:
Me: Hey do you want to meet me and Larry (the awesome bartender) at the Ebbitt for some delicious half off raw bar and drinks?
Idiot: It's Larry and I.
Me: You don't even know who he is!
The thing is, it's not Larry and I, you idiot. You could make the case that it should be "Larry and me," but to be honest with you, I just feel weird saying that. In the written form, I or me should always go last, but I think the English gurus give us a little more latitude when the spoken word.
It isn't Larry and I, and it's never going to be. Why not? Just take out Larry and see if it still makes sense. "Hey do you want to meet I?" No dice Chicago.
So if you're going to correct someone, make sure a. you're right, and b. it won't make you look like a total elitist.
We hope you enjoyed today's grammar lesson, and remember, if you don't have something nice to say, then don't say it. Unless you can support it with facts.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Food Fight Gone Global
Proof that I spend entirely too much time on the Internet. Then again, whatever. Of all the YouTube drivel I watch on a day-to-day basis, this clip is definitely one of the cooler ones.
Imagine every battle we've fought from World War II to the present day. Now condense it down to five minutes. Also, instead of people fighting, it's representative foods. Not going to lie, it's pretty cool. So if you have a minute and are bored, check it out.
Quick Hint: The Lox and Bagels are Israel. Because it's Jewish.
Need more? The official website should help you out if you happen to suck at history.
http://www.touristpictures.com/foodfight/index.htm What the Battles Represent http://www.touristpictures.com/foodfight/cheat.htm Which Food is Which Country
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