I got this link from another blog (dooce.com). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU8DDYz68kM Be patient and watch the whole thing. I guarantee you will gasp at least once.
About dooce.com - this lady is fu-hu-ny, but sometimes her humor goes a bit wacko. Ok, sometimes it's off the chart wacko. Still a cool site to visit. And - she supports her family of three with her website.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Enough Already
I've decided to live my life in a dvr'd state. Or at least the part of my life that watches television. If I hear "Every kiss begins with Kay" I think I'll drive nails into my ears. It's a very handy thing, this dvr technology. I'm kind of wishing they could develop a version that tapes life's most unpleasant moments. You know - during those times when I'm just too busy (or tired) to deal with the chaos of being an empty nester, working whenever I darn well please, trying to decide whether to watch Martha Stewart or Ellen or The People's Court and really being in want of nothing. (Is the sarcasm just a little too much for you? Perfect! I do have to confess that I rarely watch any of the aforementioned shows. Prime time's my guilty pleasure.)
Back to my sad little life . . . those messy little episodes could be viewed at my convenience. Oops, what do you know? I've accidentally erased one or two (or all) of those unpleasant moments without ever having to deal with the pain, awkwardness, anger, self-loathing usually associated with those life events that . . . what? Build my character? Grow my faith? Make me wise? Dang. Double dang. I really thought I was onto something there. Ok, so no dvr-ing my next run in with an incompetent salesclerk or bad driver or Ron. I'll live life in the moment, flying by the seat of my pants, throwing caution to the wind. Now THAT would be something worth taping.
Back to my sad little life . . . those messy little episodes could be viewed at my convenience. Oops, what do you know? I've accidentally erased one or two (or all) of those unpleasant moments without ever having to deal with the pain, awkwardness, anger, self-loathing usually associated with those life events that . . . what? Build my character? Grow my faith? Make me wise? Dang. Double dang. I really thought I was onto something there. Ok, so no dvr-ing my next run in with an incompetent salesclerk or bad driver or Ron. I'll live life in the moment, flying by the seat of my pants, throwing caution to the wind. Now THAT would be something worth taping.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
The Good, the Bad & the Ugly
In my mind I've been compiling a list of the best and worst commercials on TV. Compiling in my mind is always a dangerous expedition because I know half of it will be lost and I'll spend at least a few minutes with my elbows on my desk, head in hands trying to regain the full use of my brain. Why am I so confident of this? Because I just did it. So, here's a list of the good, the bad and the ugly.
BEST
Any Sonic commercial that features the two guys or the married couple. I will actually rewind a dvr'd program to watch them.
The new Geico commercials that feature Jed Clampett, the Flintstones and a Cabbage Patch kid. These ad guys are very, very clever. I think my favorite of these is the Flintstones, where there's wild speculation as to how Fred can afford - on his meager salary as a quarry worker - to buy Wilma that necklace with the huge rocks.
UGLY
Any Mucinex commercial that features that obnoxious wad of phlegm.
The herpes commercials. I guess I should be grateful that they're all about being safe so as not to infect their partner. Seems to me they should have been all about not being so dang promiscuous in the first place. Then they wouldn't have to embarrass themselves and their families by admitting on national tv that they've got a highly transmittable std.
WORST
The Stanley Steamer commercial that features a little boy imploring his mom to "Come see the new trick Toby knows." Turns out Toby is scooting his hiney across the living room carpet, obviously in an effort to diminish the discomfort caused by impacted anal sacs. I think that's like a human version of hemorrhoids. Those ad people should be FIRED.
NUMBER ONE WORST COMMERCIAL
The commercial for Viagra that bastardizes Elvis' "Viva Las Vegas" into "Viva Viagra." That alone will make Elvis come back from the dead to smack his reps for letting them use that song.
So there you have it. Got any to add?
BEST
Any Sonic commercial that features the two guys or the married couple. I will actually rewind a dvr'd program to watch them.
The new Geico commercials that feature Jed Clampett, the Flintstones and a Cabbage Patch kid. These ad guys are very, very clever. I think my favorite of these is the Flintstones, where there's wild speculation as to how Fred can afford - on his meager salary as a quarry worker - to buy Wilma that necklace with the huge rocks.
UGLY
Any Mucinex commercial that features that obnoxious wad of phlegm.
The herpes commercials. I guess I should be grateful that they're all about being safe so as not to infect their partner. Seems to me they should have been all about not being so dang promiscuous in the first place. Then they wouldn't have to embarrass themselves and their families by admitting on national tv that they've got a highly transmittable std.
WORST
The Stanley Steamer commercial that features a little boy imploring his mom to "Come see the new trick Toby knows." Turns out Toby is scooting his hiney across the living room carpet, obviously in an effort to diminish the discomfort caused by impacted anal sacs. I think that's like a human version of hemorrhoids. Those ad people should be FIRED.
NUMBER ONE WORST COMMERCIAL
The commercial for Viagra that bastardizes Elvis' "Viva Las Vegas" into "Viva Viagra." That alone will make Elvis come back from the dead to smack his reps for letting them use that song.
So there you have it. Got any to add?
Monday, November 12, 2007
Words of Wisdom (and other stuff)
Yesterday, Ron and I wandered around the countryside in our energy-friendly hybrid and about broke our necks looking from side to side at the absolutely stunning fall foliage. It's really, really beautiful this year. My wonderful grandmother, looking at one of nature's little gifts, like a sunset, or flowers or a rainbow, would gently shake her head and say, "When you see something like this, how can ANYONE be an infidel?" Amen.
In other news . . . we were watching the KU-OSU game on Saturday night and a KU defensive player (can't remember who - someone with a couple of "Q's" in his name) intercepted the football. As I watched the replay, I asked Ron, "How come he wasn't guarding his guy?" Because he clearly was just lookin' for the ball, not being defensive at all. Ron paused for about half a second and said, "His guy's sick." I whooped and hollered, finally having definite evidence that Ron has an answer for EVERYTHING, most of which is made up.
When I told my mom I'd ordered our turkey for Thanksgiving, she said, "Oh, is it a live one?" "Well," I said, "It probably is now . . . " She meant "fresh." I'm excited for turkey day. When I was little, each year we rotated between our house, my dad's brother's house and my dad's sister's house. If we were at Uncle John's, a high school football coach, we'd load up our plates, grab a tv tray and park ourselves either in the living room or family room to watch the Detroit Lions play. For as long as I can remember, they ALWAYS play on Thanksgiving. The best part of thanksgiving back then? We got CHRISTMAS presents from our aunts and uncles and got to open one each Sunday in Advent. I remember the year my brother got a ring toss game for the bathtub. It was a moosehead that had a suction cup on it and the object was to toss the rings onto the moose's antlers. I think my brother was about 12. He didn't really like the moosehead ring toss all that much.
Gotta jet . . .
In other news . . . we were watching the KU-OSU game on Saturday night and a KU defensive player (can't remember who - someone with a couple of "Q's" in his name) intercepted the football. As I watched the replay, I asked Ron, "How come he wasn't guarding his guy?" Because he clearly was just lookin' for the ball, not being defensive at all. Ron paused for about half a second and said, "His guy's sick." I whooped and hollered, finally having definite evidence that Ron has an answer for EVERYTHING, most of which is made up.
When I told my mom I'd ordered our turkey for Thanksgiving, she said, "Oh, is it a live one?" "Well," I said, "It probably is now . . . " She meant "fresh." I'm excited for turkey day. When I was little, each year we rotated between our house, my dad's brother's house and my dad's sister's house. If we were at Uncle John's, a high school football coach, we'd load up our plates, grab a tv tray and park ourselves either in the living room or family room to watch the Detroit Lions play. For as long as I can remember, they ALWAYS play on Thanksgiving. The best part of thanksgiving back then? We got CHRISTMAS presents from our aunts and uncles and got to open one each Sunday in Advent. I remember the year my brother got a ring toss game for the bathtub. It was a moosehead that had a suction cup on it and the object was to toss the rings onto the moose's antlers. I think my brother was about 12. He didn't really like the moosehead ring toss all that much.
Gotta jet . . .
The Vicious Bite of Reality
"See that blonde girl over there with the white sweater? I think I went to high school with her."
"Umm," I said. "And what year did you graduate?"
"Nineteen-seventy six."
"Yeah. Ok, maybe it's her daughter."
The look I got? Priceless.
"Umm," I said. "And what year did you graduate?"
"Nineteen-seventy six."
"Yeah. Ok, maybe it's her daughter."
The look I got? Priceless.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Top Ten Reasons Why I'm glad I'm Not A Dog
10. I don't have to eat my food in a bowl on the floor.
9. My entertainment consists of more than chewing on a red kong and a bone (but just barely).
8. I don't have "sit" to have Ron pay attention to me.
7. I don't have to wear flea collars.
6. I get a bath more than three times a year.
5. I don't shed (well, not as bad).
4. I don't have to wear "period panties." Oh, wait . . .
3. I don't feel the overwhelming need to bark at inanimate objects.
2. I don't have to sniff the butts of new acquaintances.
1. It doesn't take me ten minutes to find a suitable place to do my business.
9. My entertainment consists of more than chewing on a red kong and a bone (but just barely).
8. I don't have "sit" to have Ron pay attention to me.
7. I don't have to wear flea collars.
6. I get a bath more than three times a year.
5. I don't shed (well, not as bad).
4. I don't have to wear "period panties." Oh, wait . . .
3. I don't feel the overwhelming need to bark at inanimate objects.
2. I don't have to sniff the butts of new acquaintances.
1. It doesn't take me ten minutes to find a suitable place to do my business.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
How It's Made
Because we are scintillating conversationalists, suave and sophisticated human beings and generally THE people to hang with, you might be surprised to learn that Ron and I spent an uncharacteristic Saturday evening alone. Having just completed a very thorough biography of Jane Goodall, we finished watching the last of three documentaries on this woman's extraordinary life. In fact, given the chance, I'm sure Dr. Goodall, having been informed of the stellar qualities we possess (see above), would have gladly dropped every one of her activist activities and joined us for brandy by the fire.
After seeing Jane romp with the Gombe chimps, we somehow got sucked into a marathon of "How It's Made." Normally, this isn't something I'd watch, but Ron loves it so I practiced my wifely submission (for the first time in, let's see . . . forever) and got some techy education. We watched how bread was made. Have you ever seen a TON (literally) of bread dough? As I watched it glump down a shoot I became convinced that bread dough was used to create Jabba the Hut. Yeah. Pretty disgusting. We also saw how chocolate was made (have to say, a bit of a disappointment. If you want to have a chocolate orgy watch the movie "Chocolat," starring Johnny Depp. Enough said.) And flashlights, mozzarella cheese, pasta, contact lenses, florescent lightbulbs, pills, cd's, skateboards and . . . I think that's all.
What blows my mind are the complex machines that do most of the work. I mean, it took a lot of genius brains to figure this stuff out. It's really, really crazy and makes my very non-genius brain hurt. Which is probably why I haven't invented one of those clever machines. Unless you count the robot I made in the basement that, in theory, cooks, cleans, and takes out the garbage. "In theory" because I haven't got all the kinks worked out. What's that? That sounds like Ron? Dang. Already invented. Back to the drawing board . . .
After seeing Jane romp with the Gombe chimps, we somehow got sucked into a marathon of "How It's Made." Normally, this isn't something I'd watch, but Ron loves it so I practiced my wifely submission (for the first time in, let's see . . . forever) and got some techy education. We watched how bread was made. Have you ever seen a TON (literally) of bread dough? As I watched it glump down a shoot I became convinced that bread dough was used to create Jabba the Hut. Yeah. Pretty disgusting. We also saw how chocolate was made (have to say, a bit of a disappointment. If you want to have a chocolate orgy watch the movie "Chocolat," starring Johnny Depp. Enough said.) And flashlights, mozzarella cheese, pasta, contact lenses, florescent lightbulbs, pills, cd's, skateboards and . . . I think that's all.
What blows my mind are the complex machines that do most of the work. I mean, it took a lot of genius brains to figure this stuff out. It's really, really crazy and makes my very non-genius brain hurt. Which is probably why I haven't invented one of those clever machines. Unless you count the robot I made in the basement that, in theory, cooks, cleans, and takes out the garbage. "In theory" because I haven't got all the kinks worked out. What's that? That sounds like Ron? Dang. Already invented. Back to the drawing board . . .
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