I've been a little cranky lately, and - lucky you - you get to hear about the latest things that have been sticking in Op's craw:
1. Why, in sixteen-plus years of cohabitation, am I the only member of the household who puts the new roll of toilet paper in the holder? Did this skill evolve off Y chromosome or simply become a vestigial instinct? Or does the XX combination give me super powers of knowing when a thing is empty and needs refilling? Note that this only seems to apply to items within the walls of the house.
2. One of our cacti is really pissing me off. OK, at first it was merely phallic. Then it grew a reservoir tip. Now it has become grotesque, like some kind of vertical balloon animal with spines. I know that this is a cactus survival skill, but when left out in the rain, it draws all the moisture up into the very top, and I’m afraid it will snap in two from the weight of its head. If a cactus is smart enough to draw water up to the top, why is it not smart enough to grow in an efficient manner? But then, I should realize that it is only a plant. Perhaps I need to lower my expectations.
3. Speaking of lowered expectations, what’s going on with children’s names? If you assign your offspring certain names, could you be cited for child abuse? If you name your child “Coco Krisp,” (currently an outfielder for the Red Sox) do you really think he’s going to the White House? The Supreme Court? I know that these are not the high aspirations they used to be, and in some households, valued about as much as a Burger King night manager. Say this guy was your boss. Could you take someone named “Coco Krisp” seriously? But then again, Coco’s got the laugh on us. He probably makes as much as the president does in a year just for putting on a jockstrap. I bet if he were a girl, she’d wind up as an exotic dancer or porn star. Give a guy a weird name – say, Estes Kafaulder – and it gives him character. Give a girl a weird name and if she’s not smart enough to change it, she’ll be working in the entertainment industry. But then again…
4. Brittany Spears. Just in general. Honey, put the baby someplace safe, put down the cigarette, put on some clothes and listen up. Whatever you think you’re doing to advance your “career,” it’s not considered shocking if Madonna or Cher or Demi Moore has done it before.
5. And speaking of the entertainment industry, exactly when did a pregnant belly begin being called “the bump?” The bump was a dance from the 70s. A bump on your body is something undesirable, and probably something you want your doctor to look at. Now all of a sudden the media is what they’ve been referring to as “bump watch,” publishing pictures of Reese or Angelina or whoever is the celebrity breeder of the month, in clothing or positions that not only show how far along they are but the sex of the child. I was annoyed enough when celebrity reportage made it seem as if a baby is Hollywood’s latest “accessory.” (I certainly hope that movie-star moms don’t truly feel this way) Now they make it sound as if they’re carrying a tumor to term. Or, perhaps they’re all so skinny that a bump-like protuberance is the only indication they’re carrying anything at all, other than a bunch of credit cards or the dead weight of the latest lousy movie they agreed to make.
6. Shephard Smith. Husband, a conservative and a news hound, likes to watch Fox News. Some of the anchors are tolerable. I kind of liked Tony Snow, but he’s gone now. But this guy they have on after seven – tone it down a bit, OK? He seems happiest when things blow up. He reminds me of someone who should be hosting “Entertainment Tonight” or some other gossipy tabloid show where they have a “bump alert” segment. Learn to blink, man. Get Ted Koppel to show you how.
7. Summer Replacement Series – Used to be, summer was the time when the networks either trotted out good shows that hadn’t been given a fair shake in the fall, or fun and edgy things (remember “Grapevine?”) that might have a shot at being picked up down the line. Now they’re rolling out a bunch of reality show crap. And not even good ones – just rehashes or new combinations of ones that have been successful before. At least there’s baseball. Not only are the Mets not sucking this year, but when I can catch a Red Sox game, I can watch Coco Krisp earn more money than Bush. And somehow that makes me happy.
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6 comments:
1) Because, like me, you're the one that ends up needing more TP before anyone else does.
2) Cacti are not designed for environments where lots of water is available. That's why they aren't found naturally in such areas, because they eventually swell, burst, and die.
3) I'm going to go with my standard respone to any questioning of questionable human activity. 'Because they're stupid.' I will however, season that with a pinch of 'too much LDS during the 60s free speech movements'.
4) I've never before had the opportunity to use this classic literary construction in everyday writing. Lately, almost everything Brittney does makes my gorge rise. For the unlettered, the gorge is nowhere near the groin.
5) Can't help ya here. Favorite classic rock song is Queen's magnum opus, Fat-Bottomed Girls. Bony-assed beeyotches leave me clammy.
6) Fox News? Anchors? Ted Koppel? Oh!! You're talking about what television passes off as journalism. Ok, well, I don't touch that stuff with a 10-meter cattle prod.
7) a] Yeah, um, 'Reality' TV makes my trigger finger itch. Woe will most definitely betide those responsible for its existence should I gain control of a working time machine. b] And yes, the Mets are doing a most passable job of not sucking this year, so baseball is not the total wash it usually is. c] Um, I hate to break this to you, but Bush already made his money, and it was considerably more than most baseball team owners make, let alone ball-players. Right now he's paying off the favors that made him the money. The pittance he's drawing as a salary he can have his wife blow on hats. Actually, if he limited her hat budget to that, she'd probably file for divorce.
aaa - As one whose gorge often rises, I agree wholeheartly. Still waiting on the plans for the time machine. Ordered them off the back pages of Popular Science. It was the ad right next to the waterless toilet.
I do so put the "TP" on its spool! Okay not all the
time but rule one - look before you squat!
Oh by the way - I caught the Bush-Crisp comment -
if your a guy and your first name is Coco you deserve
to make a lot of money!
OpBuddy - fair compensation, I suppose. Or at least when you hit eighteen, somebody gives you a purple car and a big giant hat with a feather in it. And a pinky ring. And no, I'm not being racist.
If you're male, American, and named Coco, your options for employment are fairly limited. Especially if you further limit yourself to legal employment.
Let's see... adult store clerk or proprietor, pro sports, back-up dancer for Madonna or Michael Jackson or the like, regular pornography, clown... and that's it.
Illegal occupations, well, there's pimpery, child pornography, working in a drug lab, and uh... cross-dressing 'gun-moll' for a gay mobster. Anything else you'd spend too much time shooting your partners for making fun of your name to do at all well.
Yeah, I've been seeing so many strange names in professional sports...perhaps porn and pimpery doesn't pay what it used to.
Somehow I see Coco as one of those gay porn dancers writing around in golden Speedos in a cage...
...or maybe I've been watching too much "Sex and the City."
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