Random Thoughts #50

--The grocery store I patronize, "Hen House," is usually pretty good about hiring high school eye-candy to bag my groceries. But lately, it appears they've been recruiting from the school's chess club. Horn-rimmed glasses and acne galore. Do you think "hotter checkout boys" would be inappropriate to leave on a comment card? Right below "more Lactaid milk, please."

--My back yard has become a dog park. The daughter of my neighbor, Katie, has recently adopted two strays, "Adelaide" and "Leland." Since they don't have a fenced yard, I offered to let them come play in my yard (with Casey of course) when she wants to let them out for a while. Fourteen holes, two chewed rain gutters and several destroyed dog toys later, I am regretting this decision.

--I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, but I'm becoming addicted to World Extreme Cagefighting. True, it's violent and barbaric, but I just can't stop watching it. Perhaps it has something to do with hot guys romping around in a cage barefoot. Or maybe it has everything to do with that, who knows.

--I watched the final episode of Dexter on Showtime last night. Best. Show. Ever.

I think it may be time

I meet SO many of these criteria. After 716 posts, this will be my last. At least for now...

Who's the Predator?

I had the misfortune of watching Dateline NBC's "To Catch a Predator" last night. Now, I understand the importance of deterring adults from having sex with children; I wouldn't in a million years condone that behavior. But this Dateline show is completely over the top.

I'd like to see the statistics for how often 13-year old girls invite 55-year old men to their empty house for sexual exploration. I mean, really. Does this actually happen in real life? I'm clearly not an expert on this topic, but it seems as though most child molestation cases involve UNWILLING victims. I appreciate that by definition, "prey" implies someone that is defenseless against an attacker, but I don't believe that defenseless prey actually encourage their predators. Case in point: The bunnies in my back yard NEVER invite Casey under the shed for an exploratory romp. Ever.

And by the way--I hope NBC is funding all of the police overtime for this crap. Does it REALLY take 10 armed policemen in SWAT outfits and sophisticated surveillance equipment to apprehend an overweight, middle-aged computer technician with a hard-on? Do they REALLY need to throw them to the ground as they're bursting into tears? I concede that these guys are idiots, and they shouldn't have been doing what they were doing, but the unnecessary drama is completely distasteful.

In my opinion, the REAL predators are NBC and the advertisers that profit from overly-dramatized, completely contrived tales of illicit sex with post-pubescent teens and mix it with the public's fascination with watching embarrassing and uncomfortable situations. THAT is the ultimate entrapment.

Shame on the men that accepted an invitation for sex from a slutty little teenager. But most of all, shame on you, NBC. You make me want to puke.

Guest Blogger: Matt

Well hey there. I know you're all anxiously awaiting the full report on the D. And we'll get there in due time... but first, I ought to introduce myself.

I'm Matt. I've been sleeping in Dave's bed for the last three months. Well, maybe a little longer than that. But either way, sans titre, I guess you could say we're coupled. He swoons me with early morning coffee, and rides motorcycles with me from time to time. He's a stud.

But that's neither here nor there. Really, you just want me to verify how amazing Dave is. I mean really, that's a given. He made me breakfast one time...and he can make a mean lasagna. But I'd like to offer a few sentiments that shed a little light on what I deal with on a daily basis. Stay with me here.

Sometimes I think he's an 18 year old stuck in a 35 30 scratch that - a 26 year old's body. Yesterday he happened to race a new Honda S2000 down the highway. What's 150-something miles per hour? Is it living on the edge, or borderline insanity? I'll let you decide. Really, I'd like to hear what you think.

He's rockin' right along with his business venture. But I know he keeps that top secret. So I'll give you something that you may (or may not) know about ...

Things about Dave:

1. He's lactose intolerant more than anyone else I know. Literally. He can look at a milkshake, and instantly he's filled a room with intolerable gas. Just imagine what its like when he actually finishes a shake... *shudders* (He also keeps a can of Febreze spray within reach for those awkward little moments).

2. He's got a porn collection that almost any guy (gay or straight) would envy. Oddly enough, he rarely (if ever) masturbates. .....I don't get that one folks. I really don't.

3. He doesn't shave his chest all that much anymore... like the rituals you saw in his video post a long time ago. He'll keep his shirt on, I promise.

4. He went commando at the office today because he was too drenched from sweat (from riding the bike in the BLAZING midwest heat/humidity). This was fairly amusing, and leaves the table wide-open for some jokes. Even funnier, he hung his skivvies from the wall by his window in his new (and perdy) corner office. Literally, his underwear were hanging up. It was a sad day for downtowners looking up in our windows.

5. Last, but not least: He has a bladder the size of an acorn. I'd guess that he's gone to the little boy's room about 10 times since lunch, just for a little urinary relief. Ironically, he's got a small bladder, but he makes up for it in other areas... he wants me to tell you its because he's so massively hung. In reality, he has a wonderful personality. Not sure how those go together, but he pulls it off quite nicely.

Alright, enough about Dave. You'll get more soon. If this wasn't too terrible, you'll hear more from me in the not-so-distant future.

PS... Casey is doin' well too. I'm officially his boyfriend. Or human-sized play toy. Either way, he says hi, too.

Cheerleaders in KC aren't so smart (or cute)

Someone needs to tell this poor thing that the KC Royals baseball stadium doesn't, umm, HAVE a roof.

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A Saturday night date with Matt. We won!

I Think I Like Baseball

I get "Spin" magazine thanks to a pathetically cute 10-year-old girl selling door-to-door. I don't usually read it, rather, I tend to leaf through the ads and look at the grungy cute boys in emo bands. But today, I came across an ad that really caught my eye--an advertisement for "The Bigs," a video game from 2K Sports ("Where pastime meets prime time with epic arcade baseball action!"). Here's the full-page ad:

I'm fairly certain that "The Bigs" isn't targeted directly at my demographic group, but this ad made me do a double-take. Take a look at a close-up of the animated version of Albert Pujols of the St. Louis Cardinals:

This image was placed directly under the caption "Bust out the big lumber," which apparently Albert is about to do. When I showed this to Tim (a graphic designer), he said "And let me tell you, girl, enhancing your package digitally is HARD--they did that shit on purpose." [Note: I'm guessing Tim only read about that somewhere, as opposed to trying it on his own package for his gay.com photos.].

Well, that's really it. I just wanted to share. I'm gonna go bust out the big lumber now...

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I think Casey needs a new workout partner. The one he has now is B-O-O-O-RING.

Random Thoughts #49

--Is it me, or has the Discovery Channel all of a sudden become the Mike Rowe Channel? I mean, I like the guy--he's good-looking, has a great voice and good sense of humor. But come on, Discovery. Does he really need to be on 22 of the 24 hours?

--I can smell my flip-flops from across the room. That's seriously disgusting. What's funny is that none of my other shoes smells bad. But these... whew! I think I may run them through the dishwasher.

--My Mom called to tell me that it had rained 18 inches overnight at their house just outside of Austin, Texas. My first thought: NO WAY could it rain that much. That's like Noah's Ark rain. I sent her an e-mail asking her if that was "Mom inches" (she has a track record of exaggerating for effect), but she denied it. Turns out, it did rain that much, and the 24-hour record in Texas is 38.2. Damn. That's a lotta watta. And then this morning, Marble Falls (their town) was on the Today Show! GO MF!

--I'm always amazed at how many people pack those giant mega-churches to listen to preachers like Joel Osteen or Joyce Meyer. When they pan out and show the crowd (nodding and saying "amen," of course) there are thousands of them. I wonder what the people on the top level in the worst seats get out of that. I bet they think that somehow they're getting extra points with their God for physically attending, because you KNOW it sucks to park and hike all the way up there. I wonder if they sell hot dogs...

--I was thinking about writing a post today on the varying quality of toilet paper and how my white-trash booty actually prefers the cheaper brands. But then I thought it might be interesting to write a post on the varying techniques for wiping my ass. I know the topic is gross, but what if I'm doing it wrong? Hell, I don't even remember how I learned. How long of a strip do you pull from the roll? Double-swipe? Triple-swipe? Do you LOOK at it before tossing it? I need to know these things. I smell a video coming on. Literally.

Nessun Dorma

This makes me cry EVERY SINGLE TIME I watch it...

Listening Skills

Subway Employee: "Hi, welcome to Subway. What can I get you today?"
Me: "I'll have a 6-inch Chicken Terryaki on Wheat with no cheese, please. Toasted."
Employee: "Coming right up!" [Puts on gloves, opens up the oven]. "What kind of bread did you say?"
Me: "Wheat."
Employee: "Gotcha! [Places bread on counter]. Six-inch or foot long?"
Me: "Six-inch."
Employee: "Oh that's right, you said that already. And it was Chicken breast, right?"
Me: "No, chicken terryaki."
Employee: "No prob. And what kind of cheese would you like?"
Me: "Umm, no cheese."
Employee: "Toasted?"
Me: [Glares]. "Yes."

Is it me, or do the Subway people do this on purpose? I've been doing a little informal poll lately, and not ONE has been able to get through my simple order without asking me to repeat at least one item. In contrast, how the hell do the waiters/waitresses at nicer restaurants take orders for eight people without a pen and paper and never seem to get it wrong? Clearly a skill set Subway doesn't teach.

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Weekend getaway.