Hey Joe

R.I.P.

Sean LeVert (center)

1968 – 2008

Things are not looking good for Marc Gordon (far right). Brother best be lookin' both ways when he crosses the street.

In the News

So let's take a look at what's happening....

Madonna is lambasting the press for hounding Britney Spears.

"They need to step off," she told the "Yo on E!" satellite radio show. "For real ... Let's go save her."

"Step off."? Um, yea. OK. I forgot, she's hip.

And if she truly feels that we should "go save her," then step UP babe. You've got the means. Though I will agree that the press should lay off. Providing Britney stops putting herself out there to be stepped ON. Take some of your millions, disappear for awhile and clean up. Alone. Like, away from the spot light.

One of the loser brothers who (unfortunately) survived the Christmas Day tiger attack at the San Francisco zoo, was arrested for shop lifting a couple of Wii controllers. This should certainly help his character in his case against the city. 

New York police and the FBI can now call off the search for that missing vicar. Apparently he was located in a strip-club in Ohio. Talk about wasting your flock's dough. I mean, with gas prices as they are he could have saved a bundle just hitting the strip-clubs in NY. And not to knock Ohio, but my guess is that if we're comparing strippers, NY's dolls may rate a little higher on the hubba hubba, ahOOOOOOOga, scale than Ohio's. Just a guess.

What else, what else....

Jack Klugman is suing NBC over profits the studio is apparently making off his old show, Quincy, M.E.

Klugman played Dr. R. Quincy, M.E., a coroner because, hey what isn't sexier than a guy who deals with stiffs, right?  Klugman made coroners cool. He lived on a houseboat, banged young, sexy necrophiliacs babes and solved mysteries. What a guy. Anyway, Klugman claims NBC is holding out on him and that he's owned millions.

Nipplegate continues to grow. The Transportation Security Administration reports that while  its officers "appear to have properly followed procedures when they allegedly forced a woman to remove her nipple rings -- one with pliers -- but acknowledged the procedures should be changed."

Nipple victim, Mandi Hamlin, has retained media whore celebrity attorney Gloria Allred who says they want a public apology (and I'm sure a couple of bucks to forget the whole thing). According to Allred,

"The conduct of TSA was cruel and unnecessary," Allred told reporters at a news conference. "Last time that I checked, a nipple was not a dangerous weapon."

I beg to differ. I've heard tell of some nasty eye injuries sustained at the "hand" of a cold, pointy nipple. It's not pretty. A nipple in the wrong hand can be down-right dangerous.

Give it to me baby

Ambulance chasing attorney, Gloria Allred tweaks the breast of a mannequin with a pair of pliers in order to show photographers "just how I like it."

DAMN you Neil

So I was driving home from work yesterday, flipping through the radio stations as usual, when suddenly I hear the song Dancing Queen by everybody's favorite Swedish foursome, ABBA.

But did I think of a couple of semi-hot, and a couple of sexually ambivalent disco Swedes?

No.

I thought of Neil over at Citizen of the Month.

Thanks LOADS Neil.

I got your six-words right here

That effing VE tagged me for one of those meme things. I had to look up meme because, though I've seen the term used many times on blogs, I really had no idea what it meant.

Anyway, this particular meme is a six-word memoir. I actually saw this sometime back on Smith Magazine, who has actually just come out with a book of these things.

I submitted one quite some time back, but for the life of me I can't remember what I said, though I'm sure it was something poignant and witty.

In any event, as this is what is on my mind this morning, my six-word memoir will be:

In the end, only happiness matters.

How's that for poignant?

By tomorrow it will probably change to:

I should have had the cheeseburger.

Keeping the faith

You can't see me, but I'm thumbing my nose at you non-believers; those of you who assumed I'd quit running after one day. To you I say Pfffffttt, for I DID go running again on Wednesday morning.

I would have posted this yesterday, but unfortunately I was in too much pain. As such, and in order not to overdo it, I took this morning off. But I'll be back out there tomorrow morning.

Today however, I'm sore. My legs are killing me. And it's not like I don't use my legs every day. I walk, skip, and kick soccer balls and small animals and children. It's not like I just SIT for most of the day…at a computer…composing blog posts and other gibberish.

Explain this one though. My arms hurt. I was running, not doing cartwheels. How the hell does that happen; all that back and forth swinging while trying to light a cigarette in mid-run? I must be in worse shape than I thought. And I imagine it will only get worse before it gets better because now I'll be sore and hurting before and while I'm running as opposed to just afterwards. And it's not the "good kind of hurt".* Well it's sort of a good kind of hurt, but not quite as pleasurable. However there is something satisfying about the muscle pain that comes from working out as opposed to injury. Though anyone that sees me walking around would probably assume I'm nursing an injury of some sort. I actually had a little trouble getting out of my car yesterday morning because my leg was too sore to support me. Pathetic, I know.

So today will be my rest day, a chance for my muscles to build up after their punishing breakdown. Soon I'll be racing Apollo Creed down the beach, making unintelligible grunting noises while appearing as if I recently had a stroke.

So I've got that going for me, which is nice.

*Pain associated with a loose tooth—that painful, yet oh so satisfying sensation that comes from jamming your tooth back and forth until it bleeds.

R.I.P.

Richard Widmark

1914 – 2008

Dead

Famous for this scene.

Believe it or not

Are you sitting down? If you're not, I suggest that you do because what I'm about to tell you might cause you to swoon with disbelief. Are you ready?

I went jogging this morning.

I'll give you a minute to either:

• Come to, or;
• Stop laughing

No, it's true; jogging. ME.

I know I can hardly believe it myself. I even got up early to do it.

Do you need another minute?

And you know why I went jogging, I mean the down deep real reason I think I went jogging?

Because I like to eat.

Oh sure, getting in shape and improving my life quality and longevity are all noble reasons. Improving my physical appearance so that when I remove my shirt during the summer months I don't frighten small children & offend the delicate sensibilities of…well everyone else. Fitting into my clothes is yet another good reason.

But they're all inferior reasons to eating.

I'm a snacker, particularly in the evening; chips, popcorn, Cheez-It, beef jerky, whatever. The act of eating calms me-makes me happy. Unfortunately, glimpsing the resultant mid-section protuberance makes me not only depressed but nauseous. Who is that fat bastard?

Did you ever catch a side-ways glimpse of yourself sitting on the edge of the bed with no shirt on and feel genuine revulsion? It's not pretty.

So yesterday I bought myself a pair of running shoes; cheap one's mind you. I'm all too familiar with my track record when it comes to exercise. This morning I got up a good 40 minutes earlier than would have been necessary, did me some stretching, grabbed my sap and hit the road. Blimey, it was still dark out!

This being the first morning I wasn't about to go all crazy. I'm one of those "ease into it" kind of folks where exercise is concerned. I did about a 25 minute jog, stopping only twice; once to re-stretch my calves and once to defibrillate myself. I intend to take it slowly, working my way up to that ½ hour run.

It's all about pacing yourself and keeping your eye on the prize, which in my case is a big ol' bag of bbq potato chips.

Holy War

I trust you all had a pleasant Easter holiday?

Yes? Great.

No? What do you want from me?

Ours was quite relaxing and enjoyable, thank you for asking, that is with the exception of the traditional Easter Egg Hunt.

Brother-in-law Mike and I tend to get a little competitive when it comes to those pretty little eggs. And knowing that one of them contained a promissory note from grammy for $20; well, that just served to ratchet up the bloodlust. (photos by Lisa)

Let the games begin!

Mike running interference.

I will not be denied!

I had to concede that egg to Mike.

With the Risen Lord on my side, it was indeed a smiting of biblical proportions. My foe vanquished - victory is mine!

Huzzah!! (Ren faire-speak for Halleluiah)

An Easter Conversation

Lisa: I wanted her (girl) to wear her black flats this morning.

Me: Why isn't she?

Girl: They're uncomfortable.

Me: Jesus suffered for you. The least you could do is suffer wearing those shoes to church.

*crickets*

I know it's uncool to be "religious" and admit to having some faith, but be that as it may, here's a short note to say Happy Easter and blessings to whoever stumbles upon this.