A Little Less Specific, A Little More Random


First, let me say that blogging via iPhone isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I could go to the computer and sit down and write, but I’m too lazy and I like the challenge of typing this shit out on tiny keys, especially when you try and type a word and the ingenious software changes your word to something else you weren’t expecting.

So anyway.

Apparently, I have an addiction and not something that will land me on Intervention – no crystal meth or heroin… just Diet Coke.

Some people are chain smokers – I’m a chain drinker. I can easily down a 12 pack a day if it weren’t so damn expensive… You’d think the Coca Cola Company could cut hard working Americans a break, especially in this recession. I mean really – when I’m about to slit my wrists because my investments are sinking faster than the Titanic, I need a Diet Coke in order to calm down and regroup and figure out if I’m going to have to turn to prostitution in order to make ends meet. I think I may try and give up Diet Coke for the upcoming Lent season. I’m not Catholic – but I either need more Jesus or a serious Intervention, not that A&E would have me.

I saw the jogging midget again so either I really saw a jogging midget the first time or had the exact same amount of hallucinatory medication and while some people choose to fabricate white elephants with pink spots, I see jogging midgets who enjoy running on freeway overpasses.

We have no Super Bowl plans.  My Super Bowl plans fell to hell when the Cowboys wussed out in the Philadelphia game and lost 44-6.  I personally think Tony Romo was just thinking about where he was going on vacation with Jessica Simpson once the game had ended.  I don’t hate the Cowboys for throwing this season down the tubes in the last four or five games of the season…. The Cowboys will have plenty of time to build a decent special teams and for God’s sake get some decent backup help for Tony Romo – I mean, when he’s out – get someone who can throw a football for the love of sunny Jesus!

I root for the underdog and that’s why I’m rooting for the Arizona Cardinals tomorrow.  For them to win tomorrow, it would be as good as last year when the Giants stunned the Patriots and ruined their perfect season.  I’d be very happy to see Arizona kick ass tomorrow.

On a somewhat related note – I watched Heat on tv earlier today – you know, the Al Pacino/Robert De Niro movie.  Al Pacino is the hero cop and Robert De Niro is the criminal and we all know crime is bad, but every time I see the movie, I can’t help myself… Robert De Niro is stunningly attractive in his starched white shirts and the way he is in control of every situation.  He’s got that intelligence – much like Dr. Evil where you are an actual doctor and choose to be evil.  I think because he’s a criminal, but sensitive and caring and a sharp dresser and has that sexy goatee – I want things to work out well for him.  I want him to come to his senses and know that knocking off banks isn’t right and that he should start a travel agency – because people need to get out and see the world.  So, **spoiler alert** I really get bummed when Robert De Niro’s character gets shot at the end of the movie.  He and Eady should have taken off together and started off on a wonderful life with a big travel agency and home based marketing consultation business.

Is it me or does anyone else enjoy watching the extras in movies?  I’m watching a Knight’s Tale and I swear I get a kick out of the sword fight scene when Paul Bettany goes on about Heath Ledger and the extras stop cheering – but there are two women in the background who start cheering too soon and raise their arms…. it’s really quite funny.  Apparently, none of the extras could speak English and didn’t know what was going on.  They were probably all strung out on methamphetamine or rufees.

And on a separate note – I’m starting a movement to keep Christmas trees up all year around.  I’ve still got mine up complete with ornaments and lights.  I think I can keep this going until April at the very least.  Maybe I’ll just put all the other decorations, like Christmas stockings, away and keep the tree up because you never know when you’ll need a pre-lit, decorated Christmas tree for that special holiday celebration.  Christmas trees are holiday trees anyway – so why can’t I use it for my Valentine’s Day or St. Patrick’s Day celebration?  This is the argument I’m giving my husband.  At least the tree hides the fact that I haven’t done laundry and I’ve been wearing the same pants for two weeks.  Well, not two weeks and it’s just pajama bottoms but I seriously need to get some laundry done.

Can we all agree that there are enough commercials for things that – shall we say – should remain private?  I mean, I like Elvis and I get psyched when I hear Viva Las Vegas kick up on a commercial only to get blindsided when it’s a band of old guys and they are singing Viva Viagra.  Come on.  And then all day, I’m stuck with Viva Viagra running through my brain.  Or how about the commercial where the couples are sitting in separate bathtubs and they are holding hands and watching the sunset… it seems that the object of male enhancing medication is so you aren’t watching the sunset in two different tubs.  Those are probably people who never had kids to begin with because it just seems that their logic is all wrong and they are probably not bright enough to figure out how the baby making thing goes.  But seriously – I can handle medication commercials… I hate seeing those smiling guy commercials or the ones that are for the non FDA approved male enhancements – who is buying that crap?  I guarantee, I’m adventurous and I’ll try a lot of stuff but when it comes to enhancing certain parts of my body, I’m going to trust that the federal government knows what is good for me and if they don’t put their seal of approval on something, it’s not going in me or on me or near me or even in the same house as me because you can never return that kind of crap – they already disconnected the phone and packed the office up and moved to some place in southeast Asia.

I guess the commercials that I really hate to see are those things for feminine supplies and I mean the whole gamut of supplies – things that are advertised for “itch and odor”… how.flipping.nasty.and.disgusting.  I think I just vomited a little into my mouth.  Those kinds of products are the things that you know are there and you know where to go when you need those kinds of things.  I don’t think now is the time to start celebrating feminine hygiene in advertising and I guarantee I wouldn’t want to be in marketing and win some kind of award for the most creative use of tampons in a television commercial although that would be a little fun to watch – almost like a high school science project where they give you a product and see what you can build using it.

I’m starting a campaign to move the more delicate side of human relations back behind closed doors because that way it will free up more air time for that hilarious E-Trade baby with the Blackberry.  That’s a hoot.  If you’re on board with my campaign, sign up below.

And let me ask this:

– Who is surprised that Kendra Wilkinson cheated on Hef for sex?  Really?  Why is this news?

– Um,  anyone catch the vagina shots of Madge up for auction at Christie’s?  Let me tell you, if I didn’t need my eyeballs so much, I’d gouge them out and eat them like the death row prisoner in Texas.

– Tom Hanks is a hypocrite.  Why give the Mormons so much crap for being against Proposition 8?  I’m not saying I agree or disagree but if the Mormons want to spend money and time to get people to be on their bandwagon then I don’t think there is anything wrong with that… after all, that’s what Hollywood A-listers are all about… they spread their money and time to make us regular folk jump on board with whatever topic is the flavor of the month.

– Even though Gregory House is a fictional character and an ass, he’s still a good fake doctor and I sometimes wish I were a hot hooker so House would call looking for a good time, because he would find my number on a stall in the men’s room after having a bad round of diarrhea or something.  It’d be a great story line either way because I’m a blast to be around.