Oh, the Iran-y.

I usually don't talk politics because I'm unqualified. But so are a lot of the people in powerful government positions, it seems. So why not, I just had to say:

Isn't it neato that as far as peace and rebuilding goes, we're only pledging $35 million to help out with an earth-splitting tsunami disaster?* I know we're broke and all, but I just don't know why we don't promise to give 1.2 billion-zillion dollars because we're just gonna charge to our giant credit card anyway. Sure, we've been running up a few, hefty bills for those "weekend world improvement projects" lately so...uhm...

"Oops?"

But hey, give us a break, we can't even afford armor for those tanks spreading the peace butter in the middle east. (But we could always use some burn cream.)

Even though we have 2.3 billion-zillion SUVs driven all too often by midget yoga moms who instead of buying the little yellow "We support our troops" ribbon magnets for their giant Canyoneros, should donate their tanks to the cause. Any cause.

But they can't help it, they need those Canyoneros because trust me, you should see the size of their kids. I mean, these kids are double-whipped, double-chocolate-dipped pudding pies with gameboy hand-implants and dvd players swinging from the ceilings designed to stopper their baby pieholes and distract them from all the McDonald's whizzing by. I'm just sayin', wow. That's why I don't talk politics.

Ohhhmm-mmmm...I apologize, and for more than just myself. And that's what I get for watching CNN International before coffee in the morning.

Ok, enough of me being heavy and uncool and realistic. However, if you can and want to relate, I have a t-shirt for you from dieselsweeties.com (thank u for the link, Nor-tron 2005).

Oh you know me, though, I'd rather have the monkey shirt anyway! That's how far my trees-for-the-forest political interest goes. See how easily distracted I am from the truth? It's the only defense-mechanism I have. Isn't it sparkly?









There is an upside to this product.


Fat Girl Slim: The more you use, the less you'd have to buy. In theory.

We're about to enter my favorite time of year -- the New Year and its resolutions. And then Valentine's Day to blow most of the resolutions actually kept. I like starting over. BOY do I like starting over. Over and over and over. It's the "No, really" time of year. The "this time, I mean it" day or so.

New Year's Day is kinda like the Wednesday after Mardi Gras (or Fat Tuesday which is what I like to call it). Because the best thing about being human is the worst thing about being human, being self-aware and being shamed by it. Isn't that just beautiful? You have to convince yourself as I have that it really is beautiful, or you might just turn into a complete hermit. Boy. If I could be a hermit. I'd be the best hermit in the world. I'd clean the house inside and out with a Q-Tip and all natural cleansers, grow the most coveted Yarden in my gumdrop neighborhood, and the dog's toenails would be perfect -- not too long, not too short, and Dremeled around the edges so they won't scratch the floor I just buffed to a glossy shine. My God. I need to get out more if that is my idea of the perfect hermit's life. Someone, please help me.

Oh, I kid. I kid because I love. Anyway, there is a GIANT part of me that would love to stay at home and just basically run that tiny beatch like a Navy ship, and of course create wonderful little things on the side (not kids, unless the price was right) to sell that would make all the world ( if not a better place then) a happier place, and the heavens would split into a million perfect diamonds, and all the little pink unicorns would dance in circles til they fell down a hill and laughed.

What's my point: We work too hard. What are you doin' reading this? Go home! Get to a party! And I sincerely hope you have a very happy and wonderful new year and toast one 40 oz. up to God for world peace, and for babydoll blue monkey t-shirts while you're at it. See you in 2005 -- lurve -- Bny





*Addendumb:
Hey, in the time it took to work a halfday, we upped our pledge. Apparently, someone left off a zero. Yes, that's what happened. That's exactly how it happened. No, really.

him name is hopkin green frog

ps: I'll find my frog.

lostfrog from lovedungeon.com. Keep clickin', about 111 times.



Man. I must be getting really old.

I come home to Memphis, the streets are absolute solid ice, and not once did I even think about grabbing a 6-pack and calling someone to go skid donuts in an empty, frozen Target parking lot with me in my Honda. Plus, this year, once I finally remembered the time-honored tradition, I promptly ran out of time and resources to fly through the ghetto in search of the Krunkiest Yard Display of 2004. Next thing you know, I'll be eating oatmeal because I can't bite through toast. Man. It's truly better to burn out than fade away, my friends. Although I might actually like having silver and blue hair.

Merry Everything, Everybody!


I blasted out of Memphis on Wednesday morning, right before the giant ice storm hit. I'm visiting my parents 210 miles south for Christmas Eve, and now I'm iced out of Memphis til tomorrow morning. So alls I wanted to say was that I hope everyone enjoys the holiday season, one and all, Christmas Kwanzaa and all the rest. Big holiday peace-hug for you and please feel free to drop by for cookies and champagne when I get back tomorrow. Fingers crossed and chains on tires. Ma and Pop send their love.

And for you, from one of my favorite animators, I leave you with this present from bitterfilms.com. -- ah l'amour.

I think this was his student film. Brilliant timing. Ah. J'aime Don.

Have you ever sent a belated sympathy card to someone?

Like when their dog has died or something. And you meant to send it earlier, but you know, life kinda sucks like that. You get busy working 30 years of your life away for someone else. So anyway, right when that person is almost over the hurt, they get a sympathy card in the mail from you. Reminding them that their dog got really sick and died.

Kinda like this.

Me a hater? Whatever. I voted for Hello Kitty.

"Go tell your alien brothers (sfx: whipcrack) that Ronnie Cordova says they're gay!"

And thank you to Nort-o-tron for sending me this, and check me out: I'm a true, failed product of my own idiotic environment for taking six weeks to click this link.

I love sockbaby. And it continues the theme of Ralph Wiggum-inspired hair.

"The doctor says my nose would stop bleeding if i could just keep my finger outta there."


True or false question:

Does Boy George really think that he looks sexy dressed as Ralph Wiggum, or is he just possessed?





Trick question. The correct answer is "syphilis."

Oh I'm sorry, Boy George. But I thought you and Cyndi Lauper and Pee-wee Herman were God's gift to a mankind unable to understand genuine uniqueness, in one or two of its purest forms, with hair dye on it. But be honest with me: If you are insane, and you really have lost total judgement, and you'd rather paint your throat intead of just having surgery or ditching the crumpets...well... so be it.

You look like a melted candle, but at least you're not David Gest.

Aw dammit, you know I can't stay mad at you, Boy Wiggum! Come over here and give me a big ole hug, you crazy, volcano-headed freakout, you. Let's gather 'round an open flame with the Simpsons' Snowball Game just for fun.

Hey! Here's a post I started and didn't post.

That's usually the story. It was from November 30th. I took a train trip home to see my parents for a couple of days around Thanksgiving. Check me out, I even wrote some extemporaneous weird stuff on the train. Not too bad for just a stylus and some sleep deprivation:


Walking 'Round in Women's Underwearrrrr.

That headline is only funny if you sing it to the tune of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland".

Which brings me to this time of year again: The holidays. And I've said I wouldn't badmouth them, right? Ok. But I will think quietly to myself about badmouthing them.

Badmouth. What a word! I guess it goes along with goodfoot.


Things I've done in the past 11 days:

- Sighted David Gest* hanging out at a downtown hamburger joint's non-eventful bar at night, wearing his sunglasses

- Sighted David Gest** coming out of The Peabody at night, wearing his sunglasses

- Sighted David Gest on a box of cereal***

- Rode the City of New Orleans, train 59, south. Wrote this along the way:

train 59 to new orleans

i can ignore someone for 4.22 hours one way and 4.16 hours back again. and someone can ignore me the same amount of time.

i am the dumb one who sits on the train not in the seat number
but in the train number itself.
i am not the only one trying to sit in seat 59:
out of an entire empty car, a kid sits right next to me
all he has is a skateboard, backpack and CDs.

we all stood in the rain to board
instead of standing under the canopy
conductor asked why we were standing in rain 'like ducks'
i said 'we're standing in the rain like idiots'

you are sitting next to me on the train
you brought things to insulate yourself from me
i forgot to do that. i will forget next time, too.

i am in someone elses fugitive montage
i am the late one in the rain
you are sitting by me ignoring me
soaked

we have a lot in common.

i think i am that tree growing too close to the tracks,
stripped down and cleared now and then
i never grow back quite the same.

i didn't hear the question but I heard God answer:
'the foist thing you got to realize is that you lost. then, you go from there.'

God is a black man on a train
sitting directly behind me in an empty car
with only us three.
i am the one feigning sleep
i am the one thinking about derailment
i am the one who carries a germ from them to you

and the world outside blurs by
pink and yellow ransacked skeletons with rusty tin rooves as a hat

i can tell i'm almost home.

someone's meadow lark lemon basketball is floating alone in a greened over drainage ditch.
people live here, i forget that.

'attention all passengers. someone has lost a ring in the restroom. they laid it down beside the washbasin. it has no monetary value, only intrinsic or sentimental value. '
does anyone stop to think that if you find a ring on a train, someone knows you have it.

the signs outside say 'holy city': black guy with his baseball cap backwards is riding a horse down the frontage road between us and a trailer park. people fascinate me.

nearly h@me.

when two trains pass each other going different directions,
its hard to tell which one is moving faster
or if one has stopped moving at all.

home.






*"Al Green has filed a cease-and-desist order against his former producer David Gest - because Gest used his name to promote a Memphis, Tennessee, concert the soul legend never agreed to attend. The singer complains he first heard about December's charity gig, David Gest's All-Star Holiday Extravaganza last month and was furious to discover his name was already on the poster promoting the event, reports website Pagesix.Com.

JR Rich, head of publicity at Green's label, Blue Note Records, says, 'Al never agreed to do this. The point is that Al lives in Memphis. He doesn't want people to think he agreed to do this and then just didn't turn up. William Morris (Green's booking agent) has sent a cease-and-desist order to Gest.' Despite legal warnings from Green, adverts for Gest's gig still promise: 'Famed producer returns to work after a year and a half with concert featuring Al Green, The Doobie Brothers, Lou Rawls, Dionne Warwick, Mya, Crystal Gayle, Gloria Gaynor, Deborah Cox, and Topol Recreating Fiddler On The Roof.'" **

** David Gest is too much. If the Reverand Al Green can't trust him, then that's good enough for me. And poor Liza. Don't get me started.

***Not exactly true. But it could be his next big spooky PR thing.

I love Tim Burton.

And Johnny Depp.

And chocolate.

And anyone who is actually reading this sentence right now.


Coming July 2005, it's "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Boy o boy o @#$%in' boy! I personally can't wait. "Big Fish" made me squall like a baby.

Even though I'm not crazy about remakes, this looks like a good one that I'll actually get in line to see. I didn't see the "Cat in the Hat" because (Scott pointed this one out, and it's true) Mike Myers made The Cat talk like his Jewish bubbala character from "Coffee Talk", and man, don't get me wrong: Even though I thought his verklempt schtick was past funny/it was addictive, I really need to keep what little warm and cherished childhood memories* I have left in tact, mint and unopened, with the original boxes and tags. Ya know? It's cheaper than therapy. Plus, I hear they're worth more on eBay that way.

This is the same reason I did not see "The Grinch" with Jim Carrey. I was afraid it would include fart noises and talking butt jokes that weren't in the original Suess story.

Although I am not against fart noises as long as they aren't real. Computerized and handmade flatuence welcomed.

I'm such a contradiction, huh? "Oy, do not even ASK. Here's a topic...the Moral Majority is neither...discuss-s-s-s."

Someone please tell me if I'm wrong about those two movies and I'll netflix them with an open mind. Swear ta ya, my lil boopkafinkle mensches!

*Or as Grandma would say "them memories which ain't rurnt with taint on 'em."

Ew.

ps: (Let's erase that last image, shall we?) And I love zefrank and his carol maker so I hope you do, too. Enjoy.

Have I really not posted in 22 days? Ok, I have to say it.

@#$%in' holidays.

I said I wouldn't say it, but there it is: @#$%in' holidays.

No no no, ok, actually you know it's not really the @#$%in' holidays' fault. Of course it's the projects and errands that get compressed into a difficult timeline yet still must be produced with no excuses that come with the holidays that have broken my kneecaps and fed my body to the festive @#$%in' holiday fishes. Plus work. Work work work. Man. Santa's elves must be hittin' the crackpipes hard right now to get it all done. I know I am.

I'm kidding. I don't do crack. Yyyyyet.

Okay, maybe not crack ever but definitely a little brandy from time to time. And that's another story I'll have to dig out about my train ride back to Memphis 16 days ago.

So please, possums*, please forgive my @#$%in' holiday-induced rudeness and accept my apologies with a special cocktail for you -- click here for the Mixilator**.

Beeg holydayz hugs for you alls, I meeeesed you all so verr much. No, reeeealleeyy!!***



*This guy has my dream job.

**This guy has my dream job.

***This guy has everybody's dream job.

2DO::

See "The Incredibles"

See "Team America"
note: did not know my grandmother had a singing part in this movie, as seen here

Begin the vin de pamplemousse experiment in a dark closet to be ready in time for holidays, possibly, maybe.
note: another recipe, to paraphrase, says "do not use plastic as it will do funny things to the wine, makes it explode in bottles"... explosive presents? tough nougats?

note on note: can't find big glass jar at store waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay across town. so it's the thought that counts. yes, tough nougats.

note on note on note: Ron states obvous, "Why don't you sterilize that giant jar over there with all the winecorks in it and use it?" Because I'm blind and stupid while you are brilliannnnt, so thank you, and I mean that.

Rip up the sad looking boxwood bushes in The Yarden and replace them with something that will probably get way out of hand in the spring and then must be professionally removed for money.

Tear out the crazy plants you planted but can't remember the name of that grew freakishly out of control and harbored wasps, praying mantii and gigantic huge grasshoppers like the one who poked his head out at you as you carried the chopped plants through the house to the garage and you threw them down in the laundry room and ran screaming until Ron saved the day.

Clip the dogasaurus' titanium-like, overgrown veloceraptor talons.

Try to convince Ron to do it instead.

Make appointment to have it done professionally at the vet and hope they don't take dogasaurus from me and put him in foster care.

Watch the Netflix movies I've had for well over a month now: Superfly, The Point, and Devil's Playground...

... so I can get Elf. And keep it for well over a month, I bet.

After 5+ years together, get rid of that fat bastard cat with the attitude that has woken me up at 4:30am everyday within the past 13 months for his extra-early breakfast food.

Ask vet if he is too old to be declawed.

Never have kids.

Go back to sleep.

"I could send you a song...if that's what you want."

Yes, that is what we want. Plus I want a website as cool as his:

billyharveymusic.com

by
sofake.com

I'm down with OCD.

It's not that I actually believe in reincarnation or not, but I swear if there's such a thing, I was a little girl who lived somewhere simpler and stark with clean frosty air. And just barely grew up but loved tiny pink and white frosted cakes and silky soft kittens and all things that sparkled. Nice and clean, sharp and focused, with shining rhinestoned hi-rise buildings in the dark and electronic video game noises following everywhere she went.

Shirt origami made me late to work this morning. No, really.

Enter now. You could win. No, really!

Go to

http://www.fineliving.com/fine/home/

and click the image for sweepstakes info. Aren't the headers superfly? (Say yes because I slaved over them!) Awww, thank you! (APPLAUSE SIGN here).

Time for a nice red wine. Or two. Three, four.

Has your long week just gotten longer? Take the sting out of it. Put your feet up, toss another log on the fire and accidentally set the cat ablaze. The elections are over, and does it really matter? Put your differences aside and have another drink. "To your beautiful eyes, Ralph Nader"...

redwoodcreekwine.com

Neato screensaver. Heck yeah I downloaded it. I ain't afraid of no virus attack. Hiiii-YAH!!

Very cool:

Five links down on this page, behold the many accolades for a co-workers' project here chosen by How Design!

A cryptic speech from me:
"Yallun's go'headd an' rock it like a fin muhfuh wifout yer crackberries, aiighmain: listen all that, speakin in cooode: BECRE8IV. maki maki. Hollah. YEUUHH."

Don't ask, I have no idea. But it's from the heart.

Which reminds me -- please peruse the super-dandy, spit-polished, hand-tossed, thin-and-crispy brand new ihatemike.com. I can't speak the jive without thinking about D.J. Jazzy Mike, now can I? You guys, if you want some work from him, you best get in line and bring a book. He's in demand.




Anyway....

Herro again.

Ok, so what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by "Life and The Evil Virii Produced by Terrible Nerds" was...oh, see that is so typical. Now I can't remember. Gone. And nothing on my pda about it. So typical. And just this useless note of scribble that I left myself as a reminder...







Wait, maybe if I walk in the next room, I will remember what it was I was saying...

Nope. No luck. However, in that next room (pause) there is candy. Tiny, evil candy. Ok. Calm. I won't walk in that room again until January, I think. Because here comes the Double-O-Cee* holiday onslaught. I vow not to badmouth the holiday season though. Not yet anyway.

So, I went to a great Halloween party last night. It's always alarming to me that I can walk into my closet and make a perfectly acceptable costume in less that 7 minutes, but I can stand in that same closet every morning for 32 minutes and just stare blankly at the lack of professional options, and end up wearing "something black, something denim" yet again. Very scary, indeed.

Therefore, I've finally decided that I should either make the proverbial effort and care more, or just go ahead and dress like one of the Go-Go's for the next 10 years and be done with it.**

So. I ended up with a short pleated skirt (black) with a punk silkscreened tank (black) with fishnets (yes, black) that I ripped up and topped off with my camo fake-combat boots (yes with black and more delicate than they sound, no really). Finish it off with a cat-ear headband, rhinestoned (YES! of course black, implied from now on) collar with a bell, and crushed velvet gloves.

Then I colored one eye blue in a cat-eye fashion and colored the other a maroon-and-green variety like I got popped in the eye good for smarting off to some fellow anarchist, I suppose. Or maybe it was the establishment. Who knows. I tried to apply some fake eyelashes (why of course we all have those lying around), but that was just ridiculously hard so nevermind. Finishing touch was red hairpaint (don't ask) applied to the four fingertips and scratched at random on the neck and arms. Oh and then I added a little splatter of blood from one nostril (imagining the fight started with the bloody nose then to black eye) with a trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth (I might choose to bite, you never know). This costume I deemed as The Cat Fight.

Ron pointed out that I also looked like a brunette Courtney Love on a good day. Instead of over-thinking it, I took it as a compliment and I decided on another name that I could deem the costume: Kitney Love.

I guess the costume was somewhat effective. I had a quick yet eternal conversation with a girl there that, if I could boil down my life and keep the good bones, all taken out of context, this would be one of my favorites:

"You were in a Subteens' video, right? A zombie, right?"
"Yeah. The one eating a foot."
"Yeah! I thought that was you!"

See, in a perfect world, that's really all anybody should want out of life: For someone to recognize them as a zombie who chewed on a rubber foot covered with Hershey's chocolate syrup. No, really. I mean it. It's certainly good enough for me.

Which only reminds me of, like, 1.2 billion things I was going to tell you, but I gotta huge laundry monster on the bathroom floor that I gotta kill.







*Double-O-Cee = OOC = Out Of Control. Cee? Si.

**Actually, I really decided to just flake out instead and go with my current wardrobe choice for the rest of my life until they plant my body in the cold, hard ground like a black-and-denim seed. Why? Less effort, more retirement funds. Yes, I'm motivated and therefore accessorized by fear. I'm afraid I'll live longer than financially anticipated and ironically enough be forced to exits on an All-Catfood Diet. Unless of course it's sushi. Then nevermind. In fact, just stop reading this sentence -- are you still reading this sentence? Stop that! Go chew on a rubber foot -- it's liberating and more inspirational and recommended by 9 out of 10 dentists. Go fly, my children, be free!

Not dead yet: Only a computer virus.

And doing way too much stuff after work, too. What's that all about.

Basically, a stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid computer virus hijacked my computer at work and the dog ate my homework. No, really. So this is me checking in with absolutely nothing to say. Except boomshanka, I am addicted to computers and I know why they are called "a virus" because I'm not feeling so well myself after all this.

I feel my brain going on a vacation for some reason. It's definitely stunned from the void of electronic stimulation. Maybe it's the full moon. Or the eclipse. Or that I've woken up for the past five days in a row thinking it's Saturday, only to slowly realize it's not. How nice that'll be after tomorrow night. And after Daylight Savings time change.

Lots of things have gone down: Automusik won the Best of Show at the Memphis Indie Festival (yaaayyyyy). I met a guy named Pritchard who is a genuine crackhead and apparently I don't like genuine crackheads since they scare me and bore me at the same time. But it was fun screaming and/or watching people scream at him, especially Ron. I think he needed to scream at someone. Very cleansing. I kind of wish he'd show up right now so I could scream at him more. My voice cracks to remind me that it wasn't just a bad dream. Actually, it was a good time in retrospect.

Let's see...I'll be back soon with something to talk about...I miss you guys AW!!

Damn funny:

http://www.nike.com/usa/nikesphere/

Things I've Been Thinking About = You Haven't Missed Much Outta Me


http://www.blavod.com/

some type of glow-in-the-dark liqueur I read about in Star Magazine that I can't find online

Britney Spears is still married and looks like a bulldog and is easy to make fun of

East Side Story was a good movie

The Surreal Life 2 starring Eric Estrada, Tammy Faye, two drunk girls -- one with regular boobs and another with giant-sized ones, and Vanilla Ice*

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/tv/aptv_story.asp?category=1401&slug=TV+O

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/1013043mackris1.html

http://www2.foxsearchlight.com/huckabees/

http://film.guardian.co.uk/news/story/0,,1320095,00.html

http://www.enquirer.com/editions/2004/02/18/tem_people18badu.html

http://www.adcritic.com/gfx/print/pdf/archerbeck-exhib041014.pdf
(In my exasperatingly small product-of-my-environment type of life, it's always bothered me that there are only two guys to vote for [or against] in an American Presidential election. Although this topic can be hotly debated easily, I'm not trying to start a debate, I promise. I am as useless as an ice tray in hell when it comes to political debates, I'll admit that anyday. Unless you want to debate which is funnier, Yosemite Sam or Bugs Bunny, I am almost totally useless, but for the most part fun to be around...

But it just seems to me like we should treat Presidential elections more like American Idol or Survivor or some other painful reality show. You like how I announce that with such confidence -- as if I watch those two shows in particular? No. But as a warped American overdosed on fake reality, I say we should make them take tests -- of faith, courage and old-fashioned wits -- and see who's got the actual nurtz to eat a wriggling handful of grubs covered with cow's blood. Honestly, sit about 5 to 7 candidates out in a hot car in Alabama in July and see who does what. Seems like it would solve itself and narrow down the odds in the first show at least...

I like this thought...

I also want to know who can sing Disney's "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" the best...

underwater...

Anyway, yes, it's the free country part where you can write in your own candidate. But it's not the same. If I wrote in Ron as a candidate, will the FBI start a file on him? Or maybe I should say, would they start another file on him...

Although if Ron did become President, he would issue better looking banknotes with more colors and watermarks and maybe even use that cool untearable Tyvek stuff. Also, he'd make it a law that if you are attending an athletic event and you are even one minute late, you'd be locked out because getting there late is just rude...

Do I have a point? I like sparkly objects like diamonds and more diamonds. And that's all I know.)


Mystery solved: Patty is coming out in a gay marriage on The Simpsons. I'm always the last to know and the first to care. Patty is the one with the big round afro and Selma is the one with the triangle-shaped frodoo, right? Just checking.




*Since Ron has been out of town (his dad had a heart attack but is much better now), I have been staying up like a vampire watching marathons -- this one just happened to be VH1's Surreal Life 2. You know how I feel about *real* reality shows, but this -- this is actual entertainment to me. Of course, I am fascinated by people who were once big stars and now, just coping with it.


OoooOoooOooOOOOOOoooooo....me want thissss...sparklyyy an' pinnkkk..."hello there, Kitty, would you like to be our new President?"

Yay! Thanks for the good news, Jersh.

Office' politics return for holiday party
David Brent is back, but seriously humbled.

Acclaimed British mockumentary The Office returns with a final two-hour episode that revisits the crew of Slough paper company Wernham Hogg and offers — for once — a happy ending.
"We wanted some closure," says Golden Globe winner Ricky Gervais, who plays the cringe-worthy Brent and wrote and directed the series with Stephen Merchant. "We thought we tortured people enough with the existential bleakness of life."

When we last left The Office after two six-episode seasons, Brent had been fired, Gareth promoted, and Tim ditched by receptionist Lucy. The Office Special , due Oct. 21 on BBC America (9 p.m. ET/PT) and Nov. 16 on DVD, picks up three years later.
"It's the worst of both worlds," Gervais says. Brent's "shot at fame went wrong; he's now infamous, and he's worming his way back into a job he lost" by hanging around with his former employees.

The special revolves around plans for an office Christmas party that reunites the group, for the last time. But NBC plans its own faithful version of the series* starring Steve Carell, due next year, and Gervais is working on new BBC sitcom Extras , playing a struggling bit-part actor.

*Ugh. This will never be as funny as the original. Just give me the production budget instead and I'll throw it up into the air and run under it myself. Now that's entertainment.

On more than one occasion: upon my return from work : a good dog gone bad : a violent death to a value-sized box of Meow Mix*













*The box of Meow Mix was sketched-in from memory by an eyewitness (other than me) to this heinous crime.

New energy beer to try, huh?

"A-B PUTS B-TO-THE-E IN BEER"

"CHICAGO - Anheuser-Busch's answer to the spirit industry's penetration of the beer drinking target consumer will be called B-to-the-E (B with an E superscript), a caffeinated beer flavored with guarana, ginseng and other natural flavors including the aromas of black berry, raspberry and cherry. The new brew, dubbed on packaging as the 'Beer with something extra' will launch in November in undisclosed test markets in sleek 10-ounce cans featuring the Budweiser B. Distribution will expand to about half the country by year-end. BE will be slightly more expensive than Budweiser and Bud Light and traditional advertising aimed at the 21-27 year old coed target will be confined to print and POP. An agency assignment is pending."

Drink a six-pack of these with a big bag of Wow Potato Chips and it's bang-zoom, to the moon, Alice! You know me. I can't wait.

NKOTB

No hell no, it's not Danny, Donny, Jingle, Thuggy and Bingochip, it's way better and important -- it's New Kids On The Blog (pronounced "blerg").

Please welcome:

cmedesign

johnathanobsolete

extemporaneous1

Visit them often and prod them like cattle with comments so they'll Keep On Blergin'!




Have I mentioned that I am eaten alive with Elbow? Yeah. I accidentally found them on fudgeit.org (hi, Bushra!) as Independent Kitten, and I'll be damned if I'm not having an excessive Elbowfest ever since.

Who am I kidding, I'll be damned in every situation, regardless, I'm sure. Bring it on, universe!

But the first album I got was Cast of Thousands. Tis good. The second was Asleep in the Back. Tis growing on me. To describe them, I'd say that Peter Gabriel and Radiohead had a big two-pack-a-day smoking baby that's almost 38 years old. But this baby is not in a constant bleak mood like Radiohead. Although, yes of course, I will always love Radiohead (snifflesniffle) even though they never write or call anymore ever never ever ever. Too good for me these days, huh? Well. Pablo this, honey.

Man. I'm so facking boring today. Sorry you have to read this.

Anyway, if you are looking for some good music, get some Elbow.

What's my point? I'm not sure I have one. I just wanted to say hey.

And it's Friday, and I'm tired but happy. "Hope yer happy tooo-ooo-oo." -- David Bowie

Also, I'm looking through all the lonely little links I've saved as unrealized, un-gestated Drafts (gross), and they look so sad that I think I'll just throw a couple out here indiscriminately and without much fancies...




If you want a freaky good movie starring Oingo Boingo's Danny Elfman plus a few other half-naked Oingo Boinger's, then rent "Forbidden Zone." In seven words: boobies and big silky Bettie Page panties. And as Ron says: If it wasn't for rock music, some guys like Danny Elfman and (poor dead) Joey Ramone "would never get no play with the ladies". (Hey, he said it, Danny, not me. xox) Make sure you watch the DVD extras to see the interviews. Those people are good-crazy -- dear God, I wish I could've been in Oingo Boingo.


Good Bye, Lenin! -- good movie about the fall of the Berlin Wall in1989 but, see, the guy's mom who's really old school East German, she falls into a coma right before this happens and when she wakes up, the doctor says her heart is too weak to withstand the shock. I suck at explaining this, so just rent it, you'll like it.

If you don't have Netflix, getttt iiiittttt. I never watched movies much, but you'd be surprised at how you'll watch 'em once they are delivered to your house only to lie around and look pathetic until you watch them and you realize you have spent money for these things and they are turning into more expensive drink coasters by the day.

Ok, do you smell burning wires? It's me, I'm totally burned out for the day. So thanks for reading my babbling smack and I'll be back with something interesting soon I promise.

ps: if you made it through this post without falling asleep, then congratulations! You just won the Monkey Riding a Dog prize. Make sure you click Video. Enjoy!

Life is good. Good good good.


"JAY LENO EXITING TONIGHT SHOW IN 2009"

"Jay Leno will step down as host of The Tonight Show in 2009 and turn over the reigns to Conan O'Brien, whose Late Night with Conan O'Brien leads out of The Tonight Show, reports Mediaweek’s John Consoli."



They taste worse than they smell, but my hair is luxurious!

It's taken me way too long to state the obvious, and I do apologize. But for the record and for those keeping score, yes: Muncheros or Salted Prunes with Chili are truly one of God's most incredibly horrible and useless food items I've ever encountered this side of raw sea urchin. That may be an unfair statement to anyone planning on being stranded without hope in the desert. Bring these treats along to suck on, prolonging your life just long enough for you to realize that you have no hope left as you hallucinate your way into a kinder, gentler dimension.

Maybe I don't know what I'm doing with these things. Maybe I was supposed to boil and rehydrate them. Let me describe them to you.

Upon opening the bag, I was instantly teleported back to a humid, barefooted childhood summer. Running carefree through our backyard past the plum tree, its branches hanging low with ripened fruit, I learned the value of footwear. Stepping on a rotting plum was one thing; the pointy pit inside was another. Collapsing to the ground at breakneck speed and skidding through numerous other rotting plums tends to leave a mark, I'd have to say. Another not e of interest: After a surprise crash-and-burn like that, your sense of smell is heightened by the adrenaline rush. It was at that point I collected my thoughts, assessed the damage, and realized that I smelled of burning grass stains and hot sticky tobacco chaw.

Again, I'm from the South. Sadly, I know what a "chaw" smells like. If you don't, simply buy a bag of Salted Prunes with Chili and experience the smell of an actual dried chaw.

Objectively speaking, the most pleasing part of the Salted Prunes (besides the potential of them actually being a newfound taste treat) was their appearance. They looked like soft little chunks of something rolled in cocoa powder. Aside from the smell, how bad could these be? So I tossed one in and bit down. Basically, the only way to describe them are dried-up mold-covered rocks rolled in dehydrated worm dirt (for anyone not from the South, that would be dirt you'd find in a container of fishing worms). Complete with a sharp pit in the center! And basically, the salt was so intense that it just cauterized many a tastebud's sad attempt.

They were so gross, I had to try another one.

Oh, come on, you know how it is. Disbelief: It's the only reason why some guys I've known ever got second dates with the same woman. Disbelief can drive you to do the most illogical things. I have the physical scars to prove it.

But hey, I knew they'd be gross. Luckily, foresight ordered some Japanese Peanuts with Chili to chase the horrific taste out of my mouth. Now let me just say that those little bastards are GOOD.

And because I was running low anyway, I bought a new shampoo by Freida -- Brilliant Brunette Shine Release Shampoo for Darker Shades of Brown Hair Chestnut to Espresso. No pun intended, but it completely rocks. I'm not sure about the shine factor, but the smell is over-powering in a really good way, and the moisturizing formula really does rehydrate a ragged end. It's like the exact opposite of a Salted Prune with Chili. See? Life is good like that.

So kids, let that be a lesson to you: You can't know what's truly good until you experience what's truly bad. And if you plan on going hiking through Death Valley, remember to bring your Salted Prunes -- with or without chili -- live dangerously! But please, children, please wear shoes.



(Thanks to Chip for the enlightening "Product Review, Product Review!" challenge. My hair thanks you! Next product review: Rock Star Energy Drink!)

A friendly reminder:

Logo comps are due Monday. And the client hateyhatehates crowns, so do not include them.

Also, soon to come:

The breathlessly awaited "Product Review, Product Review!" of my super-special WalGreens shipment suggested by Chip.

The suspense has already weakened three innocent onlookers and nearly killed an old lady in Pittsburg, so I apologize for any fatal delay. Mooo ha haaa.

What I've Learned Working in Advertising All These Years.


For example, I imagine the situation went down like this:



Designer to Project Manager: "He WHAT?!"

PM: "I know, I know..."

Designer: "He thinks it'd look better with the kid's FRONT TEETH photoshopped out?? What the @#$%? That will look forced and ridiculous!! Don't the pigtails just scream @#$%ING PRECIOUS...?!"

PM: "I know, I know..."

Designer: "Why in the hell does EVERYONE around here have to put their @#$damn @#$her-@#$%in' dick-print on EVERYTHING I do around here?? God! These people are RUINING MY LIFE!"

PM: "I know, I know, I hear ya, what a jerk, huh...(glancing at clock on wall in distance) *sigh*...look, let's wrap this thing up so we can get outta here. I have to pick up my kids from soccer practice."

Designer: "Why does MONSTER.COM have to be such a @#$damn @#$her-@#$%in' BLACK-HOLE WASTE of TIME??...'tweak it a bit by photoshopping some missing teeth'...WHAT THE -- @#$damn @#$her-@#$%!!!"

Well. I imagine that's how it could've gone down. Past experiences, of course. Ahem.

Today is National Cupcake Day!

Not really. It should be though.

I just wanted to show you these magnificent creatures at sibbyscupcakery gently lifted from notmartha.com. And also, I just like the word "cupcake." You can't hardly think about it or say it out loud without smiling. Cupcake. See? I'm a tired withered crabtree somedays but I just grinned. It's a happyfun word. Much like clobberhead.

yers truly -- Cupcake Clobberhead.

So I'm ready for my "Product Review, Product Review!" challenge item suggested by Chip. I'm just waiting for the Salted Prunes with Chili to arrive from walgreens.com.* Mmm. How appetizing they sound already, huh? I know none of you can sleep now in anticipation of their arrival. Which according to UPS should've been yesterday. They'd better step on it. I also ordered some highlighting shampoo.

But in the meantime, I can recommend a stupifyingly-simple and good flatbread for you to try. Straight from the countryside of Vermont (the one and only motherland of Ben & Jerry's, no less) to a local Wild Oats freezer near you hopefully, it's American Flatbread.

The only kind they had was the Cheese and Herb flatbread which sounded so innocent and plain to me. I scoffed. But hey, me likie some bread and cheese always.

But honestly, if anyone ever teases you for splurging an extra dollar or two on handmade, organic food when you can, then kindly point them toward a handmade flatbread like this. This flatbread-turned-pizza has the innate ability to shut a doubting piehole** for real. I'm serious, it is so incredibly good. It's simple -- it's just handmade in wood fired ovens with fresh, organic ingredients from Vermont by real people. The end.


*I love my Walgreens, but ppphewdamn, their site is mundo crapwad ugly and clunkfest uggums. My poor walgreens.com needs an "Extreme Website Makeover". I'm sure if Fox network thinks about it hard enough and could make a website bleed and cry on tv, it'll make next fall's tv lineup.


**"Mmmm. Pieholllle."

By the way, this is for you, Chip. Let us light a candle of hope that Ivan didn't totally plow this legendary joint. Pulled from my PDA cardpocket as a reminder of such a sublime time in June, long live our Florabama, as red as it may be. Why not, red is my favorite color anyway:

See the pointer? For those who've just tuned in, that's within the area where hurricane Ivan made its direct hit in Florida.

Scott drew a fat Scout Leader.





I drew a fat 2DO List cat.



Another successful resource meeting is fully realized. Is it Tuesday already?





It's about time for a "Product Review, Product Review!", isn't it? Anyone have any suggestions for a specific product?

I'll wander down to the corner Wal-Greens and see what's new down there besides Nyquil, Dayquil, and Afrin. Yellow fever supposedly killed many Memphians about 100+ years ago. But I'm convinced it was allergies and sinus maladies instead.

Which, by the way, I think I have conquered my addiction to nasal spray for the time being. Don't play with that crack. It's addictive, I'm tellin' ya. Don't underestimate Nyquil either. If you take it for more than about three days in a row, that stuff will turn on you like a junkyard dog. Instead of knocking you out for the night, it'll poke you wide-eyed awake approximately every 17 minutes so you can hear the sound of buzzing somewhere deep within your spinal cord. *

But man, it works when it works. I feel muuuuuch better.

Better living through chemistry.

*It also diminishes your writing skills. I'm totally boring today. This joint needs some candy around here. I'm off to lunch and maybe for some candy.**

** That was a positive thought, but it's too damned muggy out today. Mugfest. But I did get a fortune cookie at lunch, so there is some excitement maybe...

THANK YOU FOR MY SUMO BANK, B!

You are very nice to me! Bhead B went vacationing in Austin, Texas, and brought this fat baby back to me from Toy Joy. I wanna open a store like Toy Joy and sell tasty sodas and candy, too. One day, boy. One day. And thank you for the Otis toy!

Awww. I like it.

It's our new interim website here at work. See if you can find the hidden tagline.

Oh hell yeah, it's Friday. Rejoice.

What a week. So productive. No one choked me to the ground, and I didn't take a pick axe to the fancy color printer that decidely won't print my lavenders.

If anyone needs to know, trading your nasal spray in for Nyquil is like crop-dusting for one single roach. That Nyquil is certainly some powerful medicine. I woke up yesterday and next thing I knew I was at work. How'd that happen. And I was aware of all ten of my toes at once. When's the last time you could feel all of your toes at once, pestering you, one at a time. And then altogether. I guess brain damage is a small price to pay for clear sinus passages and heightened sense of smell. I actually smelled chocolate cake baking through a wall the other day. How bionic.

A sad note: Some terrible ass put a sticky note on my car rhetorically asking me if my grandmother taught me how to park. Don't you just love people like that? My grandma's dead, but really, thank you for reminding me. To me, that sounds like someone who needs to park on the roof and walk some of that agression off and please touch my car again so I can park crooked on her cowardly bones over and over again. It's a her. She wrote like a girl. She'll cry like a girl, too, if I could ever find her. I may just park 6 inches over the line again and bait her. Take a day off from work and hide in my car with a picture of my grandmother. I'll think about it. But until then...

More sketches for you, because unlike piggly note-leavers, you people are the best:






It's a two-legged dog with patches. Awwww...




If he had a job, he'd make lots of hard-earned Doggie Dollars, and he'd spend it on candy.




Someone unwittingly created a new word in the Tuesday meeting. It means "you all are" as in "Y'all're haulin' ass on that project, aintcha*?"

*aintcha = quaintly means "aren't you" in case y'all're needing translation.




I don't know why I spelled "drink" this way. Guess that's the antihistamines talkin.'

Well, maybe I was reminding myself to find some red wine. I'll look for some now.

Still furiously working, trying to break my addiction to nasal spray with doses of Nyquil, but wanted to leave you a picture I drew for you of a concerned jellyfish.

Did ya miss me? Aw. But I missed you. No, really.

So I worked a weighty percentage of buttage off last week, which isn't a bad thing, and then blasted outta here to Chattanooga for the weekend. I pondered many things along the way, none of them monumental. Like:

"Why did everybody become allergic to peanuts in the past few years?"

"What does a praying mantis eat?"

"Are the hormones in milk and chicken really responsible for the recent explosion of D-sized pre-teen boobs?"

"If so, then what are the hormonal side effects for pre-teen boys?"

"Since I am addicted to it now, why is nasal spray addictive?"

"Why isn't there a Vespa shop in Chattanooga named 'Scooternooga'?"

Not like I specialize in monumental topics, but there you go. That's what we all missed. Not much.

But if you ever wonder what my minor misfirings are sometimes, besides me thinking it's hilarious to watch home videos of people falling down or seeing bridal veils burst into flames again and again, here is a link that my mother just forwarded to me. Now, after she saw Ron fall backwards out of a rotted rope swing, my mom finally admitted to me that she liked to watch people fall down, too. But I didn't know she fancied impaling. But like twisted sisters, it's comforting to know that we share the forbidden love of excruiating pain. Ah, life is good. Enjoy Mr. Otto's Olympics here or here.

What's wrong with me. I go seven months without reading him and forget how great James Lileks is. He really sums things up. Why don't I read it everyday and eliminate my own frustration with useless pop culture pop culture. I must be stupid.







But when it comes to finding good chocolate, I'm gifted.

Well, I'm not the one who's brilliant actually. This time, it's M&M Mars. This new candy bar is called "M-azing" and comes in two varieties:

1.) a chocolate candy bar dotted with tiny M&M's chocolate candies, and

2.) a chocolate candy bar dotted with tiny M&M's peanut butter candies.

It's a no-brainer, professor. Both are equally delicious.

What makes it different from any other chocolate bar out there now that's dotted with candies? (note: stop saying "dotted with candies". It sounds gross. Willie Wonka would have me fired.) I think it's because the candy bar itself is made from the same extra-sweet chocolate found inside the M&M's. That's my hypothesis anyway. It sure tastes like it. Which is a m-mighty fine idea. One that may need more research now that swimsuit weather is almost officially over.

I don't like the name at all though because it's not catchy. But really, when it comes to good chocolate, WHO CARES about the name? All I know is that the taste is quality. So try both of them with confidence. Run, don't walk. It's good exercise.



(Damn, James Lileks is funny. )

I don't know how many people know that I'm bi.

Bi-technical, not bi-sexual.

Dammit, and I was so close to becoming totally cool with that header, too, huh? Sorry, ladies!

Yes, I'm somewhat proud that I can somewhat work on both Macs and PCs now. They have their differences. I started on a Mac. Most times, I can even fix a Mac (to a certain degree, and then I beg Michael's help after I've torn it completely up. Thank you, Michael.). I still miss my Mac daily though.

Learning on a Mac is like learning to drive a standard transmission with a stickshift: You'll always know how to drive the hard way. And then you find the automatic transmission ride known as a PC, and you welcome those fancy power Windows -- and the burning rubber that goes with the free downloads, and the joy of never having to think of an innovative way to actually download an incompatible file and try to make it work on your Mac anyway.

I can't really fix a PC. Yet. But it's coming. I do enjoy the hell out of downloading most any program for free that will fix my PC for me. So far, it's been really convenient.

Thank you, Ad-Aware. Thank you, oh dude thank you, Grisoft Anti-Virus. You can't get all that neato free stuff for Macs. Free, free, free. You have to pay some big bucks for online safety and pleasure, it's true. But even with all those free downloads, PCs can't make up for their seedy crack-ho reputation up against a Mac -- what with the way they spread virus programs and e-herpes all over the place. But with all the free downloads, nevermind...I can forgive and forget. And schedule routine anti-virus scans. That's fine.

You don't have those worries with a Mac really.

You can't find a file format you can download either. But hey. Life is funny like that.

You can say what you want about a Mac, but I'll love them forever. They are stylish and totally misunderstood. You can't always find something cool to download for a Mac. But every now and then you can. So Kittyspunk (thank you, Kittyspunk!) has a present for you:

www.glennsgames.com

She says Flower Power is like Bejeweled, only with Daisies and Flowers. I can't see it from here, but it sounds splendid. My eyes are going slightly out of focus just thinking about it. Bejeweled and Text Twist make my pupils dilate with adrenalined joy. I could play those two games all night. And I don't even like games.

Ok, not that they should, but in case the PC peeples out there feel jilted in this post, here's a simple yet addictive game link for you and only you since it's unavailable for Mac download:

It's called Best Friends www.retro64.com

See how much I care? Feel the love, peeples, and keep it clean. Here's a big ole hug for you, whichever way you swing it.

It's a fresh piece of Cake for you and me.


If you like one Cake song, odds are high that you'll probably like 'em all. Lucky for me, I do like one Cake song. And another and another -- like "Comfort Eagle" and "Never There" and "Short Skirt, Long Jacket." Plus, if you ever get the chance to see Cake in concert, then go. Go, go, go.

Listen to a couple of tracks from the new album here. I like "Dime."

And for more info, go to cakemusic.com...

Do I sound like a cheap 15 second commercial today?

"Hurry! This offer is for a limited time, prices and participation may vary. Call 1-800-EAT-CAKE. That number again is 1-800-328-2253."

I've had a lot of practice.

I can't remember whose number this is.

But it sure is cute, isn't it? I hope it's not important. I don't think it is. Oh, I remember now.

What time is it? It's "Product Review, Product Review!"

With all this working diligently much like a typical sucka and/or road-tripping to-and-fro as of late, and also being that I am one of those people who really needs a boost (even in my sleep) to remain alive and breathing, I have turned to the aid of energy drinks for the past couple of weeks.

Today, I will share my latest findings with you. Why? Because I care. No, really. I really, really do.


Presenting our lovely, worthy, and bangin' contestants:





Red Bull vs. Mtn Dew's Amp vs. SoBe Adrenaline Rush vs KMX vs. PimpJuice.



Red Bull.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Red Bull gives you wings. And gas. It was one of the premiere energy drinks, so I have to give it that credit. It does work. It does actually give me extra energy -- sugar-free and sugar-fire -- but at what palatable cost? What I'm saying is that, to me, Red Bull still tastes like sucking on an uncoated multi-vitamin with lots of extra Vitamin C and rosehips in it. And people, trust me when I say I've done a lot of stupid things, so I know what I'm talking about. On its merits alone, I give Red Bull Sugar-free an honorable mention and a C. The sugared version gets a C+ for the extra surge of sucra-licious power.


Mountain Dew's Amp.
Again, I must give credit where it's due. In the 70's when you needed a blast of energy, who'd you turn to? Not your dealer, Biggie Jay-Jay on Brown Street. No, you headed for the Mountain Dew. Extra-sweet, extra-caffiene, extra-legal. I heard stories about junior high kids drinking entire 2-liter bottles and tripping. So I kinda expected more of a blast from this. In my opinion, I equate this to a fine ice wine distilled from a vintage Mountain Dew fruit. Nostalgic feelings are nice, but it's not a Mountain Dew to the ninth Power like I was expecting. But since it is tasty, I give it a jaunty C+.


SoBe Adrenaline Rush.
At approximately 7:12am, I sputtered into the RaceTrac gas station/convenience superplex by the highway for my long journey home. Six hundred or so miles to go, but I'm not counting. I'm running on the fumes of champagne and three delicious petit fours long gone well over 12 hours ago. I shoved the door open for a post-wedding reception breakfast: a bag of Fritos, another bag of Lance's Vinegar and Dill chips, and something with some caffeine. ANYthing with caffeine. Yet the stale smell of boiled coffee just tied a slipknot in my stomach. So, off to the cooler to find salvation in the perfect energy drink. And let me tell you, this is how life is created, my children. Sweet, sweet life is raised from the graveyard with one can of this magic herbal concoction. Plus it tasted good. Reeeeal good. Maybe it's the natural high of Mother Nature's herbs versus the man-harnessed vits and stimulants used in the other drinks, but trust me, SoBe is a good slow burn of energy. Yessss, IT'S ALIVE!! (sfx: thunderclaps and screams) If I could, I'd give it more than an A+.


KMX.
If you can't find a SoBe, then you can still turn to KMX. Even though I wonder why an energy drink is named after a 13 year-old boy's bike. Yeah. The name is totally weak to me. But man, there's no denying that it's good. It's one of the more flavorful ones I've tried so far. Doing the trick with good taste is fine with me. But the name...what does that name mean? It means someone got paid way too much money to think of it, or they were too chicken to tell someone in charge that it's flatter than your best friend's 8 year-old sister. Name it Satan's Tinkle, and bingo, you'd have a better name as far as I'm concerned. Man. It does work, and the taste is great. But somebody needs to give the responsible party a bid ole D- on principle alone just because the name needs a boost of creativity, dang it. We as consumers like to be entertained as we drink our tiny, mostly over-priced cans of chemicals. I know my rights as an over-consumer! What are you trying to pull here? Who's in charge anyway? Who's responsible? Wait. I get it now. KMX stands for Kiss My Xenophobic tendencies. Nevermind. It's a B.


PimpJuice.
Who wouldn't want to get mixed up with an energy drink named PimpJuice? It may look like anti-freeze, but "It tastes like drinkin' a Jolly Rancher," said Ron. It sure did. I wanted to love it so bad that it still hurts. Makes me wanna get out the car and choke a b*tch. But, as far as the juice-power, it choked. Not enough sugar, Daddy. More mojo than go-go. Clearly, you get the sad polaroid of what I'm trying to say. Look at that can. It looks cool, like malt liquor. It's still sitting here on my windowsill like the ashes of a loved one. Maybe it's because I miss my poor, deceased Pink Champale instead. Now there's another story, and another wound that will never heal. Although it pains me, I havta give PimpJuice a B+ at least for the name, the color, and the fond memories of the 70's goneby. And for all my dead homeys, of course.



Remember these are only my opinions, but they are 100% reliable and tested. So get out there and get your juice on, whichever is right for you.

Next "Product Review, Product Review" is of the new M-azing Candy Bars (2 kinds) from the makers of M&Ms, and for my diabetic pals, the new Sugar-free version of Almond Roca. Enjoy your weekend!






One more rather important thing:

If you're in Memphis, super-cool, and not busy tonight, well then come awnnn dowwwwn --


----Original Message--------

Subject: This Friday, Kick Off Your Sunday Shoes


Helloooo

(Attached is a jpg-explanation-invitation for you and whomever you'd like to forward this to…)

Join three guys* commenting loudly on one bad movie this Friday the 13th, doors open at 8:00pm. It should be funny and fun for all, Audience Comments Welcomed, so please Louise, pull me off of my knees and get down to the Gibson Lounge this Friday. Why not? It's a great excuse to hang out and fry up some Kevin Bacon.

For more info, call 544-7998 ext 2. Or email me back, and I'll just ask sumbuddy.


"What the hell. Alcohol'll be served, so everything should get funnier." -- Ron Shelton


*One of those guys is Ron, by the way. So everybody cut Footloose.




E-flyer designed by Mamie. GO MAMIE!