So if you’re ever looking to have a good time – and hey, who isn’t, right? – might I suggest a visit to the pediatric ward at Kaiser on a Saturday morning? “Fun” is hardly descriptive enough to do it justice.
For the past month we’ve had a toxic mucous cloud hanging over our house like a…well, like a toxic cloud. No sooner does one person begin to feel better then another falls prey to the sickness. The boy recently spent the better part of a week camped out on the couch. He seemed to get better, or at least the fever went away, so we quickly took advantage of the opportunity to send him back to school. No sooner had he become the school’s problem again when yours truly is suddenly stricken with the scourge. In my case, the fever lasted less than 24-hours, oh, but the mucousey fun remained, eventually developing into an ear infection. Really? An ear infection? I haven’t had an ear infection since I was a kid. What’s next? Is someone going to steal my milk money and then tell Robin Shea that I LIKE like her, and want to meet her after school behind the eucalyptus trees? Well, I don’t!
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OK, this is sort of a charitable celebrity death contribution, not only because I don't know who the hell he was (not that my personal knowledge of their existence is a prerequisite for inclusion), but because it's arguable as to whether or not he rates inclusion. I mean no disrespect but really, how many of us have heard of this guy? There are so called celebrities dying every day that I don't cover because their celebrity status is debatable.
Let's be reasonable. This month the slab has seen Indian actress Mrs. S. Varalakshmi, Greek handball coach, Yiannis Dimitropoulos, and American pianist, Arthur Ferrante just to name a few. Heard of them? I didn't think so. If I included every so called celebrity when would you have time to read about my sore foot and other important happenings in my life?
OK, granted, there's a good chance that most of you never heard of Gale Storm, Mickey Carroll, or Bob May, among others, but at least Gale was hot, Mickey was a midget, and Bob was a robot. Again no disrespect, but this guy was a bowler. Gross.
Anyway, he died, and my entire point for including him as a quasi-celebrity was simply to say this:
With a name like that he should have gone into gay porn instead of bowling.
A friend of mine was visiting the Met when his wife came across this picture, pointed at it and said, "Joe." I take issue with this as my forehead is not quite that large, yet, nor have never grown a mustache. Sure I've got a shirt or two like this in my closet, but who doesn't?
I guess it's true; we are uglier than we see ourselves.
"No, I am quite serious. Boy pee eggs are quite the delicacy in Dongyang. And if it's good enough for Dongyangers, it's good enough for me and mine. Saturday morning breakfast will be a very special one. Feel free to join us. I promise not to have any asparagus today."