A fat woman at the office, sitting at her desk finger-fondling a frosted gingerbread man, whether because it was “male” or because it was edible, I’m not sure. It’s no less disturbing either way. Parenthetically: I don’t think she knew anyone could see her . . . Read more →
December 2007
Our Time is Passing Us By
Ex-Blondie singer Deborah Harry, who played a solo show here in Orange County last night, is 62 years old . . . Read more →
Pricey Pet Photos
I’ll be the first to admit that these are cute pug photos, but are people really paying $1,100 to take photos of their pets?! Read more →
Death to Meetings
Regarding the negotiations to keep USC football in the Coliseum, Scott Wolf writes: USC’s Coliseum negotiations website implores fans to attend today’s commission meeting. It’s part of USC’s public-relations strategy to get the public to express outrage. So far, that ploy’s resulted in death threats against commission member Bill Chadwick and general manager Pat Lynch. A USC official just shrugged his shoulders at that little byproduct of the negotiations. Let’s see if I understand the cause and effect here. Encouraging people to attend a committee meeting resulted in death threats? OK, that’s understandable . . . I hate meetings myself. Read more →
Open Enrollment
One of the HR reps at my new company is explaining Accidental Death and Dismemberment insurance. “What if someone intentionally dismembers me?” I ask. “Could happen.” “Do you work in IT?” she asks. “Do a lot of people in IT get intentionally dismembered?” “Just something about your line of questioning . . .” Read more →
A Taxonomy of Freaks
My son’s playing a game of Madden ’08 . . . “I’m playing linebacker,” he says. “I’m a physical FREAK!” “What other kind of freak is there?” I ask. “I don’t know,” he says. Read more →
Evel Knievel, 1938-2007
On New Year’s Eve Day, 1967, Evel Knievel, some crazy son of a bitch from Butte, Montana, jumped his motorcycle 151 feet over the fountains at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas. — EvelKnievel.com And that’s why, when I was a kid, every boy in my neighborhood grew up with a endless progression of scabs on knees and elbows from trying to jump Schwinn Sting-Ray bikes over every natural and man-made obstacle we could find. Farewell to an iconic figure . . . Read more →