Vanishing act

This is a clip from Hee Haw, a foggy, cobweb filled memory from my childhood. I really don't remember watching that much Hee Haw - but this song sticks in my head like crazy glue.

The best part is the "phht you was gone".

Twitter'd out

Social media is making me feel rather antisocial at the moment.

I got up this morning and logged on to Face Book. Then I checked out what was going on in the Twitterverse. When I got to work, I fired up Outlook and then signed on to AIM. It’s not that I have a problem with all the different ways that we have to communicate with each other – I like them all just fine. I like Face Book for reconnecting with old friends, AIM is an awesome way to communicate at work in a jiffy, email is a necessary evil, and Twitter is, well – Twitter. Most of the tweets I see are random thoughts – blips on the radar that are fleeting at best. It’s a fun way to link to other media that you think your followers would like, but then again, so is Face Book for that matter. But for some reason, on Twitter people tend to tweet the same (mostly snarky) minutia over and over and over again. I am so sick of seeing tweets about:

1. Your workout / exercise routine. Yes, you’re active and fit. We get it. Only you and your trainer are impressed. And that's because you pay him/her.

2. What you are currently listening to. Did you hear something new? Great! Please share. Something inspiring or beautiful? Share that, too. But posting tweet after tweet after tweet that read “I’m listening to Snoop Dogg’s Gin and Juice” “I’m listening to Otis Redding’s Try A Little Tenderness” is just repetitive and boring. And honestly, nobody cares.

3. Same goes for television shows. What’s with the tweets that are just your personal television viewing chronology? “BSmith just watched Mad Men”? (Or whatever other “in” thing you’re watching because you think it makes you look cool). Guess what? It doesn’t and you’re still a douche nozzle.

4. What you’re eating. No one cares. And I don’t want to see a picture of it, either. If I want to know what your lunch was, I will ask.

5. Tweeting that you are eating fattening foods while watching The Biggest Loser. Yeah, this was funny the first 100 times I read it. Considering that 66% of Americans regularly watch television while eating dinner (thank you, A.C. Nielsen) I think the chances are high that they aren’t all eating carrot sticks and cottage cheese - yet you’re obviously thrilled with your amazing, ironic wit. I drink beer while I watch Intervention. It doesn’t make me Jerry Seinfeld.

6. Something your dog did. Unless he taught himself to drive, got a job at NASA and landed a lunar probe – yawn.

7. Same goes for your cat. (Numbers 6 and 7 do not include the adoption of, or the passing of a pet. Those are different and are definitely tweetable.)

8. I hate to say it, same goes for your kid. Yes, you love him. Your family loves him. Everyone else in the world, not so much.

9. “I have the best boyfriend / girlfriend / stalker in the whole wide world!” Gag. ‘Nuff said.

10. “Is”. As in “BSmith is”. Do you think you're being all existential and hip? You’re not. You’re just being a dipshit.

Yeah, that’s pretty much the list for now. I know there will be more to come. Too bad I can’t tweet this entire post (way more than 140 characters), because it certainly is snarky enough to live out there amongst all the other snarky tweets. I’m going to blame today's outlook on a lack of sunlight. Maybe I need to eat some pistachio nuts, drink a diet Pepsi, listen to Jim Croce's Bad Bad Leroy Brown and watch my cats wrestle. Yeah, that should work.

Happy tweeting! :o)

Luck be a lady?

I was sitting in traffic this afternoon on my way home from work - it was at a stand still heading west (the direction I was going) while the eastbound lane was free and clear. As I sat there waiting to move, I was watching two squirrels on the side of the road. They were running and each one had something acorn-like in their mouths, and then suddenly the bigger of the two squirrels decided that he was going to make a break for it and run to the other side of the road. He ran right in front of my car, and as he did a car came speeding down the eastbound lane and I was sure the little guy was toast. In fact, as I saw him leap up the curb, I couldn't believe he made it. I thought “what a lucky frickin squirrel, he should have bought the farm”. Then I began thinking about the concept of luck, and how it pertains to everyone (even crazed squirrels). I mean, some people (like me) believe that luck is a random thing - like a wild bolt of lightning that you can’t predict. Other people believe that you make your own luck; that your outlook and personal choices reflect what gets presented to you. Actually, upon further pondering, I believe it’s probably a combination of the two. Which brought me to another thought. In 2005, my husband Charlie and I went on a trip to Las Vegas - luck capital of the world - and had an interesting run in with luck.

We were going to be in Las Vegas for five days. We already had two under our belts, and as per usual, Charlie had mad luck for those two days. He was up at least a grand. Me - not so much. So we decided to put the bets on hold for a night. It was a Saturday and we decided to go to the Ellis Island for a little cold beer and karaoke. If you haven’t heard of the Ellis Island, don’t worry. It’s a locals haunt and it’s a tiny hole in the wall attached to a Super 8 Motel off the strip on Koval Lane. It’s wonderfully dark and oh so old Vegas, but they have a phenomenal karaoke show and the people who sing karaoke in Las Vegas are some of the most talented singers I have ever heard, bar none.

Anyhoo, we were filling out our request slips and Charlie kept looking at this very tall, distinguished looking man in one of the booths. He kept saying that he looked familiar. The dude didn’t look familiar to me at all. So after about ten minutes, Charlie tells me that the guy looks like Granville Waiters. Now, I knew who Granville Waiters was because he played for the Chicago Bulls when I was in high school. I couldn't have picked him out of a lineup, but I remembered his name because my dad had taken me to a couple of Bulls games when I was in high school. The Bulls really stunk back then (pre Michael Jordan) but they were winning the game Dad and I went to. And back then, Waiters basically sat on the bench each and every game. But when the Bulls would actually pull ahead by a significant amount, the crowd would start to chant “Graaaaaaaaaanville, Graaaaaaaanville….” and eventually they would put him in the game.

So the DJ at Ellis Island decided to do what he called “Kamikaze Karaoke”, where he would call up five or so singers, pick a song of his choosing and make them all sing together. Charlie got called up on stage, and so did Shorty (the Granville look-alike). Everyone was laughing and commenting on their bad rendition of We are Family and I leaned over to Shorty’s friends and told them that my husband thought he looked like Granville Waiters. With the widest eyes I have ever seen, they told me that, yes, that’s Granny (as they called him). His friends seemed taken aback that anyone would even recognize him. However they were very sweet when they asked if Charlie would like an autograph (to which I replied “ARE YOU KIDDING? OF COURSE!) After the guys were done singing, Charlie got his autograph and had a really nice conversation with Granville. (Who couldn't have been more gracious, by the way). Later in the evening after we were all sung out, we said goodnight to Granville Waiters and his friends and went back to our hotel.

The next day we laughed about our night and thought it was one of the oddest Las Vegas moments we had experienced (except for the night Charlie got propositioned by a hooker at the Hard Rock). But we soon discovered that another thing had happened that night. Charlie’s luck ran out. From that moment on, he couldn't catch a cold let alone a break. As his winnings dwindled for the remaining days, he came to the only conclusion there was. Granville Waiters stole his luck.

My luck remained the same - in the crapper - for the entire trip until the last night. Every trip to Las Vegas we ever had ended the same way with our famous “last night luck”. Together, we hit a $1.00 Wheel of Fortune machine for $1,000.00. A nice little amount to go home with.

So do I believe that luck is as random as lightning or do we make our own luck? I’m still not sure about that one. But I am sure that if you have some luck, stay away from Granville Waiters. He’ll steal it.

So goes life, so goes the truck

I saw this on The People of Wal-Mart. Classic.

I Guess Mommy Got The Truck

Punk'd

I think everyone has been to a wedding where as the best man gives his toast to the newly married couple, hijinks ensue. When my friend Val got married in the 1980's, the best man punked the groom by telling a story about how the groom had borrowed the best man's keys to his apartment and wanted them back. As the story unraveled, supposedly the groom had copied the keys and given them to a young lady. With that, 30 or so women all got up to "return" the copied key. The last lady had to be at least 80 years old.

Now, it's much easier to punk the groom, especially if you have mad Photoshop skills. Check out the video below. It's the video montage that played at a couple's wedding, created by one of the groomsmen at the request of the groom. The only instruction given to the groomsman was to make the video "different" - the groom said he didn't even want to review it first.

So this is what Ben and Joanna got from their friend, Adam. I take it Joanna has a good sense of humor. If this happened on Bridezillas, there would have been blood.

Best Wedding Slideshow Ever from Olde English Comedy on Vimeo.

Oh look, a giant loser

I don't know how I missed this one, but this selfish douche cheated on his wife and this is what she made him do to repent. I have a feeling it won't be the last uncomfortable humiliation he will experience at her hand. You can see the article here. Personally, I hope his privates wither up and fall off, yet he walks around for the rest of his life with a phantom boner that he can never, ever satisfy.

A case of anal warts would be good, too.