So here we are.
Today I serve up some odds and ends:
- Will it ever be possible for any human male on the planet to watch the Golden Globe Awards and not make the obvious boob joke? Further, is it possible that he who makes said obvious boob joke actually thinks he is being clever and that no one else has come up with it before?
- A friend of mine remarked that he’d had a dream about Glee, only without the music. I remarked that Glee without the music is just Saved By the Bell.
- Regarding future presidential elections, one of two things is going to happen: either we’re going to drop all pretense and just make the race an NBC reality show that is a combination of Survivor and The Apprentice (imagine teams of candidates trying to sell the most cupcakes on a desert island - the dessert island challenge!), wherein the winner is selected because he or she ate the most bugs, gave good meeting with Trump, and/or didn’t get eaten by the others... or, being elected President will become a sentence handed down by the Supreme Court to the 100th guilty defendant of the election year. Because corporations are now people, thanks to the Citizens United ruling, expect Exxon Mobil to eventually become the 50th President and go out of business when it inevitably has a nervous breakdown.
- There is nothing more disconcerting than a baby giving you the stink-eye.
- There’s a red carpet pre-show at the Super Bowl? There is a red carpet pre-show at the Super Bowl? A red carpet pre-show. At the Super Bowl? ...I’m sorry, what?
- For all the lovelorn souls who crave the chocolatey goodness of Valentine’s Day but don’t wish to face the embarrassment of buying one’s own heart-shaped box of sweets, here’s a tip: Nutella is delicious candy in a jar, yet somehow considered an ordinary supermarket item. Just add spoon and you’ve got a fabulous night ahead. You’re welcome.
- Okay, getting back to that ridiculous red carpet at the Super Bowl thing... if they’re going to do it, then they should really do it: have fans like, say, Joey Ruggazzio from Bayonne walk the carpet with his painted face and oversized fleece in front of the photogs and interviewers, saying, Yeah, these dungarees are from my closet, I got these shoes in ’97, this is my lucky knit hat my Ma custom made me, and the handbag is from Macy’s.
- Milkshakes are delightful, but all too temporary.
- Okay, for the last time: if you are in Contestant’s Row on The Price is Right, and you want to bid one dollar, it only works if you are the last one to bid. If you are the third one to bid and you bet one dollar, don’t look all shocked when the last person bids two dollars. I recently saw someone bid one dollar when she was the first one to bid. Sigh. Society is in bigger trouble than we think.
- It’s a shame that my career involves singing, because whenever a photo is taken of me mid-song, I look like Buddy Hackett.
- Maybe I’m late to the party, and maybe it’s just the middle-age talking, but one of my new favorite things is this heating pad that goes around your neck and shoulders. Everyone should have one. Everyone. Forget the one-laptop-per-child initiatives. Those only keep your lap hot.
- It’s interesting to walk around the city this time of year and look carefully at people’s faces. If they look miserable and stressed, it means they’re still keeping their New Year’s resolutions. The ones who’ve already said to hell with this damned detox look much more relaxed.
- Finally, I think it’s time that we all acknowledged that a woodchuck can indeed chuck wood, and how much of it he chucks is none of our damned business. It’s time for a new vocal exercise. Perhaps it should be: Nine pine nuts in a pine nut pie makes a pie with nine pine nuts. I just made that up, and now I realize that whoever came up with how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood never got royalties for his work. And so here I am, givin' it away for free. Sigh again. I’ve officially wasted this tiny part of my life.
Yes indeed. Welcome to me.