Photo Friday 12:00:01 AM

It's Twenny Ten!! Not two thousand and ten.

You didn't call it one thousand, nine hundred, and ninety nine, did you?

A Thorn In My Mothers Toe

As much as I hated him, I have to admit, Billy Mays was a great salesman. Just by screaming at the top of his lungs he could get people to buy the worst crap imaginable. Trust me, Mark has a pile of stupid mops to prove it.

Getting ripped off by the television is kind of embarrassing, but getting ripped off on the internet is even more stupid. Over and over again I've received the famous Nigerian come on that if I help Oogullii Mooguuuli get his money out of a bank in Saudi Arabia, I can keep a million of it. There are thousands of variations on that theme, but if you are stupid enough to fall for it, I say you get what you deserve. So imagine my chagrin when I found out from my mom that I have been screwed by the internet. I ordered a beautiful bouquet of roses on line from FTD, a company that has been around since I was a child, for my mom's birthday. For fifteen dollars more I could include a bottle of Vera Wang perfume. Great, my mom likes perfume, I'll go for it. In the photo on line, the roses looked great, and the bottle of perfume looked to be of reasonable size. If the roses were the size of my fist, the bottle of perfume must be at least an inch and a half tall. Apparently FTD roses are only a half of an inch across. Here is a photo from the FTD web site, followed by a photo of my mom's big toe and the bottle of Vera Wang perfume.

One of them stinks, and I'm sure it's not my mom's toe.

Cold Comfort

(Written yesterday)

It was forty six degrees this morning when I got up to walk Chandler. I know that for folks who live in Chicago, that is a heat wave at this time of year. For those of us in Florida, however, it is a shock to the system, and we start digging through the closets and drawers for our stylish winter wear. In the case of one of my neighbors it was a Chicago Bears sweat shirt. "How about those Bears last night, beating the Vikings?" I said after spying her shirt. "I don't know about that, this is my ex-husbands shirt. That bastard was always watching football.", she sneered back. At least it makes it easier to spot the tourists among us. While those of us who spend all summer here basking in the steamy glow of the tropical sun are bundled up like Nanook, the tourists strut around in shorts, and flip flops, oblivious to the forty degree wind chill. And you can always spot the assholes from New Jersey, driving around with the top down in their rented convertibles. Often with a couple of bimbos sitting on the back of the seat yelling 'Woo Hoo!'

Last night I watched the Bears on Monday Night Football, and although they tried very hard to lose the game in the second half, somehow they did win it. One thing I always notice when watching football late in the season, is how damn cold it is up north. It makes me feel so cold just watching those guys on the field, running around with no sleeves, or even gloves in many cases. Added to that are the shots of the crowd, and the inevitable shirtless guys screaming and cheering with clouds of steam billowing from their mouths. Monday night it was making me feel so cold that I was thinking of closing the windows. Then I remembered, I forgot to turn off the air conditioning.

Wii Are Not Amused

I haven't been proficient at a video game since I hung out at a friends bar in Chicago, where I would win at Pac Man on a regular basis. It was 1980 and I was driving a taxi at the time. The only reason I would win at Pac Man is that after I'd drink enough vodka, I could tune out everything else except eating those little yellow balls. When I finally would have too much to drink, and I couldn't even concentrate on Pac Man any more, I'd drive my taxi cab back to the garage and go home.

A few years ago Mark put the Playstation2 at the top of his Christmas wish list. After weeks of whining, pleading, and threatening, I gave in and bought Mark his toy. In the first six months that the Playstation sat on the table next to the television, I think I saw Mark use it three or four times. It continued to sit there for a couple of years, unused and collecting a thick layer of dust, until finally one day it disappeared.

Once again I have been wheedled into buying Mark a toy for Christmas. This time it is the Wii game. One of Mark's arguments for getting this thing, was that you have to actually get up out of the chair and move around to make it work. "It will give your fat ass some exercise!", he cleverly argued. So we now have a Wii attached to our television, and instead of sitting on my ass for hours watching other fat men play football, I am sitting watching Mark and his friends play Wii Bowling. It's all very boring, even when I participate. As for the exercise part of it, I almost immediately proved that idea wrong when I showed Mark that I could get strikes and spares without even getting up out of my recliner chair. At least my wrist will be in good shape.

Video Monday

Photo Friday

My mom and dad, Christmas 1996
(Photo courtesy of my sister Lisa)

Video Thursday

A story fantastic, a story so queer!

A television station in Chicago used to play this every Christmas. At the time I was very young and thought it was really creepy. Now that I am an adult and can appreciate it for what it is, I find that I am vindicated. It is creepy.

Here is a spoof from Comedy Central.