I've finally found a sport that I can get into. . . Ok, so it isn't EXACTLY a sport, but it is called "The World Series." Ok, well, it's full title is "The World Series of Pop Culture." I have to say that I am fairly knowledgeable in many areas, but none so much as pop culture. How could I not fall in love with a quiz show that has categories like "Seinfeld," "80's High School Movies," and, of course, "80's Comedies" and teams with names like "El Chupacabra" (if you don't know what it means, look it up!) and "Almost Perfect Strangers?" Come on - the show asks contestants to name the female characters that Tom Hanks and Peter Scolari played in Bosom Buddies (Buffy and Hildegard, for those of you who didn't know) or to name the woman that Jerry Seinfeld dated whose name rhymed with a part of the female anatomy (Delores, of course, although the girl almost went with Mulva, instead). If you should stumble across this show on VH1 some night, give it a whirl!

Too freaky. . .

So this morning I was cruising boingboing.com and I ran across this picture:
I know what you're thinking -- aww that's a cute kid! Well, you don't know that half of it. THIS is a picture of Shane at about the same age:



Yeah -- freaked me out a little. See, I know that Shane had a Mickey shirt, but not that particular Mickey shirt . . . Needless to say, it certainly caught my attention!

If you happen to be the unidentified boy in the picture (the top one, not the bottome one), email me - you might be family :-)

Argh. This is not a good day to mess with me. First of all, I have two grandparents who will, short of a miracle, likely be gone by Christmas, Mom got fired (a week through her 2 weeks notice) and cheated out of her vacation pay and now I have to deal with an infuriating (and infuriated) pro se party who thinks he knows everything about the law, but he doesn't actually know squat. We have argued with him almost every day for three weeks now, but he's been a thorn in our sides for several years.

It's a delicate balance - the crazy people have just as much right to file lawsuits as the sane people. It is my job to serve them just as well as I serve the $600/per hour lawyers in $3,000 suits. But is it my job to take abuse from any of them? I don't think so. I am well compensated, but not that well compensated.

Now I'm getting off my soapbox :-)

Yesterday afternoon, I took my Mustang to the shop to have the driver's seat worked on. It's been broken since I bought the car in April of 04. I had it fixed once, but it broke again soon after -- I'm pretty sure that they just stuffed some extra foam in and called it good. Since Shane in in Kentucky, I am driving his Trail Blazer. Let me tell you, there is more than a little difference between a Mustang and a Trail Blazer. My Mustang sits very low to the ground and is very responsive - you barely have to turn the steering wheel to turn a corner. The Trail Blazer is much higher off the ground and the steering is very loose. Plus, it's considerably longer and wider than my teeny sports car! My garage is behind my house and the driveway goes up the north side of the house and through a very narrow gate to get there. I can back out doing about 20 mph in my Mustang. In the Trail Blazer, I literally have about 3 inches of clearance on either side of the truck - it was very slow going this morning, but I made it out of the driveway on the very first try. I was extremely proud of myself for not only sparing Shane's mirrors, but for avoiding running over my pampas grass - a feat I don't always accomplish in my 'Stang. Poor pampas grass - it's so abused!

A Day of Mourning. . .

Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community. The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.

Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours.

Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times he still was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.

Doughboy is survived by his wife Play Dough, two children, John Dough and Jane Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart. The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.