Random Thoughts

CNN, MSNBC, et al. must cease ALL Michael Jackson news immediately. I'm talking to you Larry King! His doctor gave him too many drugs, Michael never woke up. Case closed. Although I am considering getting this classy tattoo on my back:

Madonna needs to stop the Pilates/organic madness. Holy shit. She looks like one of those drawing of the muscular systems you'd find in an Anatomy book. She also needs to stop dating that man-boy named 'Jesus'. It's just nasty.

ABC needs to stop filming the Bachelor/Bachelorette series. My god can't someone come up with a fresh idea? Personally I think they should bring back "The Dating Game" (with the goodness of Bob Eubanks) and take it a step further by actually filming the "Date", which by the way was usually a trip somewhere not-so-exotic like a Dude Ranch - but it was always an overnighter!

And while I'm on the subject, let's do updated version of "Love Connection." I spent so many late drunken college nights watching this show. Click on the show's intro below and you'll see why it is and always will be "television gold". Besides, who could resist a show where "Old fashioned romance meets Modern-Day technology" (and by "modern day" I'm guessing they are talking about the THREE televisions on set playing VHS tapes of dudes with mullets and Miami Vice jackets). Make sure to watch the entire clip - you don't want to miss the "Former Playboy Model who likes camping and Swap Meets." I sure hope she found her love connection!

Love Connection Introduction
by PatJK910

By the way, does anyone know if Chuck "We'll be back in 2 & 2" Woolery died? I think I remember hearing that a few years back, but am too lazy to Google it.

-Val

The Pinwheel Incident

I'd been on my "detox" diet now for almost three weeks and all was going well. That is, until I was confronted with the dreaded "Office Potluck" party.

I tried to ignore the "Office Potluck" email for an entire week. Knowing that this event would most certainly throw me into a diet challenged tizzy, I choose to pretend I didn't get the email that suggested everyone make a salad, entree or dessert. However, two days before the event I was approached by the office manager who more or less assigned me a dish. "You should do 'Ham Pinwheels" she suggested. "They are soo easy to make." "Sure" I replied, and I knew I was f*cked.

Anyone who's ever worked at an office with more than 2 women is certainly familiar with the archaic tradition known as a "Potluck." In the past, a potluck would involve me heading to the Albertson's deli and ordering 6 lbs of their soggy Caesar salad (and then transferring it to my own handmade Viet Nam wooden salad bowl and claiming it as my own). But after agreeing to the pinwheels - I knew I would actually have to make my dish (while on a detox diet, no less).

I searched high and low for a great "Pinwheel" recipe (i.e, I Googled the word "Pinwheel" and read the first three recipes that popped up, and chose the easiest). After securing the proper accouterments (flour tortillas, honey ham, cream cheese, green chilies and ranch dressing mix), I was ready to roll those suckers up.

At the time, I didn't realize just how "hungry" I was. But 2 and 1/2 weeks of veggies, water, and milk with sugar-free, diabetic chocolate syrup (and only eating between the hours of 12 and 6) will do that to a person. As I rolled the first Pinwheel I decided it was necessary to try "just a small bite" (having never made a Pinwheel before, it was necessary to taste one, if only to make sure it wasn't so gross that I'd have an office full of spit-up Pinwheel soiled napkins rotting in the big trash can in the break room). Damn, as soon as that first bite hit my tongue, I was on those Pinwheels like Chris Farley on a pile of coke. The cream cheese might as well have been heroin in my veins. It was as though I was eating a 7-course meal at a Wolfgang Puck restaurant after being on a deserted island for 3 months.

I made it thru one entire rolled up tortilla before I came to my senses. The Pinwheel had literally sent me into a diet spiral (pun intended) - one which, a week later, I still have not really recovered from. I only have a week left on my "detox diet" but I have to be honest: after the "Pinwheel Incident" there have been several more similar incidents including the "Pizza and Merlot Incident" and last night the "I'm just tasting my BBQ beef Incident" and this morning's "I-haven't-had-a-real- Pepsi-in-almost-a-month-and-goddamn-it-I'm-having-one-for-breakfast Incident".

Ok, so after all the "Incidents" (most of them were just small bumps in the road) maybe I'm not completely "detoxed" after all. But let's face it, I'm no Gwenyth Paltrow. I'm pushing 40, starting to have night sweats and my frown lines are getting deeper by the second. Sometimes you just gotta cave in and go the way of the Pinwheel.

-val

Suck it Subway!

Despite Subway spending a gazillion dollars marketing their "$5 Footlong" and now some "$2.99 Bullshit Sandwich", I never seem to get out of there for less than ten bucks. WTF? They must charge $5 for extra meat (aka two slices of salami on the otherwise healthy 6 inch regular turkey sub I always order). And while I'm bitching, "Did I ask for shredded lettuce (brown Easter grass) on my sub or dollops of fois gras terrine?" I continue on an almost daily-basis to let Subway ass-rape me with their rip off sandwiches. If Jared was there I would throw my $2.89 ice tea on his chubby weak chin face.

Ahh...I feel better now.

Speaking of getting ass-raped (price wise) I had to follow in Val's cougar footsteps and forked out $80 to see the American Idol Tour later this week in Dallas (where there will definitely be "Cougars a plenty"). Val has already warned me that the light show will give me a migraine similar to the one I got after watching "Spy Kids 3-D" with my niece and nephew. She also informed me the best time to get my nacho fix is when Anoop belts out Bobby Brown's "My Prerogative".

I figure seeing Allison live and Adam singing a David Bowie song will be worth it. If not, there is always the goodness of a $6 Arena Draft beer in a wax cup.

-Parker

American Idol: Part Deux

Because being inches from the stage at an actual taping of American Idol a few weeks back wasn't enough, my daughter and I decided that we needed more Idol action and purchased tickets for the "Idols on Tour" concert at Staples Center. Yesterday was the big day and here are a few highlights of our "American Idol Experience: Part Deux":

• You never know when you'll hit a traffic jam in LA, so we left a 3 1/2 hours early only to arrive at Staples Center a whopping 2 1/2 hours early. The good news is we were able to park curbside within 100 feet of the entrance to the Staples Center for the bargain basement price of $25. The bad news: trying to avoid backing over a gaggle of 50 year old women wearing "I Love Gokey" tee shirts when the concert was over.

• I took a picture with my Blackberry (or was it a high-powered Olympus?) which I emailed to Parker to show her our seats. I also took some video and I might as well filmed the Poltergeist television. Hey Blackberry: Thanks for the great phone camera and video quality on the new "Storm" phone (photo result below):

• As much as I was expecting a complete cheesefest, the show was actually amazingly produced and a vocal coach has clearly gotten their hands on some of the contestants (i.e Oil Rig Guy, Tattoo Sleeve girl, and Blind Guy - actually he still sounded like the guy from Mike and the Mechanics).

• The show opened with Oil Rig Guy (Michael) who actually had a great voice, but sang Country songs, which were completely lost on me. Midway through his twangy twang I totally came to the realization that just a little over a week ago, Michael Jackson's solid gold casket was sitting right in front of the stage and I couldn't help but be distracted by a vision of dead Michael laying there as the Oil Rig guy rocked on.

• The light show was not unlike being at a three hour rave while on acid (not that I would know) and by the time Gokey made it onstage I had to sit in my chair and massage my temples through his entire rendition of Michael Jackson's PYT: Pretty Young Thing. Sorry Gokey, MJ did it much better - please stick with the bluesy songs.

• Note to anyone attending a large indoor concert: Please get your goddamned Nachos, Wieners, Beer, Wetzel Pretzels et al. before the show begins. Holy Crap I've never seen so many people maneuver up and down stadium stairs for a trayfull of $8 Oscar Meyer Wieners in my life. Mid way thru the concert I wanted so badly to scream "get your snacks and move on losers! Move On!" Secondly, if you are a man, please (for the love of god) don't douse yourself with Axe body spray when you know you are going to be surrounded by people squished tighter than a full Southwest Airlines flight. Thank god the lady on the other side of us had a Pretzel-wrapped-hot-dog with relish (and nacho dipping sauce) to mask the stench. Meanwhile, I can proudly say that the Staples Center had several FULL bars, a ton of Concession stands (including a California Pizza Kitchen) AND a Margarita Stand - and I stayed clear of it all!

• Allison and Adam made the price of admission ($80 per ticket, yikers!) completely worth while. When Adam came onstage, I immediately thought, "Holy dragqueen, I haven't seen that much turquoise eye shadow since my senior yearbook picture." If there was ever any doubt about Adam's "sexuality" while the show was on, he cleared it up for us last night (he was over-the-top greatness). Adam reminded me of a modern-day Freddy Mercury with a Be-dazzler. I have to be honest and say, Adam and Allison are the true talents of the bunch and have a ton of charisma and they rocked the place hard (even though I was near seizure from the constant Rave Lights by this point).

• Kris (the closing act) was pretty darn impressive in a boy next door on ludes kind of way. He closed the show with Hey Jude (again quite good - but don't mess with a Paul McCartney song). As he finished, I was ready to make a beeline to my car, but not before the entire cast came out and completely murdered a Journey song.

-VAL

My Detox Diary

2 weeks ago I started a month long "detox" diet. I won't get into the gory details but I will say that it pretty much eliminates all things good in life (sugar, alcohol, bread, pasta, meat, did I say sugar?) Although I generally feel great (and am 8 lbs lighter), this diet has not gone without its ups and downs, which I have been keeping track of in a diary:

Day one:

Feel pretty good - stuck to my veggies and didn't really miss my daily 32 ounce morning Pepsi!

Day two:

Had black coffee with Splenda (in lieu of my gallon of Pepsi) this morning. Shortly thereafter I was a dead ringer for Robert Downey Jr. when he was coming off heroin at Jamie Gertz's cool LA loft in "Less Than Zero" (shaking, laying by the toilet, wet washcloth on head, whiter than a sheet.) Later in the day I had organic tomatoes over plain spinach. Needless to say, that "satisfying" dish made up for the whole heroin detox incident earlier in the day.

Day three:

Still have not cheated, but should have planned better than starting a diet right before Tom's birthday AND the 4th of July. Today is Tom's birthday and I just picked up a homemade Oreo Cheesecake from the local bakery. It is taking every ounce of willpower right now not to sink my entire head in the cheesecake and go all 1950's pie eating contest on that confectionery delight.

Later that night: While Tom and the kids enjoyed the cheesecake from heaven, I slowly drank my glass of milk mixed with sugar free diabetic chocolate syrup and seltzer water. Mmmmm, seltzer water and milk.

Day Four:

Are you kidding? Today is the 4th of July and I am not allowed to have meat (i.e. giant grilled brauts), bread (no buns), sugar (no cakes shaped like the American Flag) or (Gasp!) alcohol. Somehow I managed to make it through although after Tom asked me to make him a second BLT, I considered taking the bacon and mayo, smearing it across his face and filing for divorce.

Day 8:

6 lbs down and 4 inches lost (of course 2 of those inches gone are from my 12-year old sized boobs). Feeling good and am starting to really believe that pureed cauliflower actually IS mashed potatoes and a grilled portabello mushroom is almost as good as a grilled steak.

Day 10:

Have discovered that the miracle that is 6 teaspoons of Diabetic Chocolate Syrup mixed with a can of Diet Pepsi. If I close my eyes and pinch my nose I can pretend it is a Dairy Queen Blizzard. By the way, when you have PMS, diabetic Choc. Syrup is no substitute for a milkshake and fried.

Day 13:

Got weighed and measured today -lost 3 more lbs, yet somehow managed to gain and inch and a half in my thighs. This really throws me into a tizzy. Am tempted to drive thru Taco Bell and order one of everything off the menu (I figure this will still be under $20). Hell, if it was on the menu I would even order a "Road Kill Taco" and devour it whole. But alas, for once in my life I am going to stick to something I started. (After which I will begin anew with a giant Chimichanga - extra sour cream- and a margarita on the rocks). Thighs be damned.

-VAL

Our (Absolute) Last Post about Michael Jackson

I actually considered taking a personal day from work just so I could stay at home on the sofa and watch the memorial, but my newfound work ethic beat out over my natural tendency towards laziness. I did however take a few minutes at work to peruse the MSN pictures from the day and here were my initial thoughts, which I immediately emailed to Parker:

Sorry about the solid gold casket (that costs more than most homes in the Mid west) and the ugly spray of red roses.

I'm not kidding I think the family slathered those kids with dark Ban de Soleil to make them look like they could actually be Michael's biological children, because the three of them now look mulatto and the oldest son's hair is now black - it was light brown a few weeks ago. 

Brooke Shield's looks gorgeous and seems totally sweet. I hate that bitch

His backup dancers for his upcoming tours are doing a song and dance number - all the while thinking to themselves "Crap I need a new gig, stat"

The Cou de gras is a picture of Corey Feldman in the audience dressed in full MJ garb (fedora, Capn' Crunch jacket, etc.). I can't see his hand but I'd bed my left tit that he is wearing a sparkly glove!

And when did the Rev. Al Sharpton become manorexic? Geez Rev. Al - have a frickin' Quiznos now and then.

There is a pic of his daughter Paris totally breaking down on stage and I am now sitting at my desk with tears rolling down my face. 

Parker responded with a snort about how sweet little Paris at least could cry into Janet's soft, millionaire bosom - something most orphans are unable to do.

After work, I sat Shiva for the Anderson Cooper 2 hour special on the memorial and cried like a baby the entire time (I blame the PMS, as usual). The media played MJ's daughters tearful goodbye no less than 17 times last night and I bawled every time. I also cried when Jennifer Hudson sang. That girl has some pipes (yet somehow lost out on American Idol - I think Bucky Covington got further then her). 

Come and Knock on my (Prison) Door

I really don't have much commentary for this (as the picture speaks volumes), but I just had to post this Mug Shot of Joyce Dewitt. Surely everyone over the age of 35 recognizes this swanky lady as "Janet Woods" on the amazingly complicated sitcom "Three's Company". Wasn't Janet the voice of wisdom on that show? Doesn't everyone over the age of 30 know by now that Drinking and Driving (esp. on the 4th of July - hello?) is a total dumbass move (I speak from experience - someday I'll tell my tale). 

By the way - Joyce/Janet was so plastered she actually drove THRU the po-po barricade (perhaps she was fantasizing about the Sally Field role in Smokey and The Bandit that she didn't get?

4th of July Clusterf**k (and the wild week leading up to it)

This past week was literally my first full week off in over a year. It started out completely strange with the not-terribly surprising news of Farrah Fawcett's death. As a kid I loved everything "Charlies Angels", especially the short lived Farrah-era. My brother had the red bathing  suit poster and I had the same on a decal Tshirt (early lesbian tendencies?). I also had the Farrah Barbie Head (as shown below, holy shit) that I thought was the 'figizz' until the first time I applied makeup to it and the shit wouldn't wash off. I ended up  chopping all her hair off and leaving her in the garage while cursing the dumb makers of the el cheapo Farrah head. 

 To hear that Michael Jackson had passed the same day was completely shocking, although he had become incredibly frail and more and more odd over the years he was only 50 and the friggin King of Pop. I kept thinking, "Seriously who would have ever guessed he would die before Liz Taylor, Liza or  Diana Ross for that matter.  As a teen my room was mainly Duran Duran wall to wall however I gave some highly valuable real estate to a Michael Jackson poster, he was still black at the time and had his nose just right but apparently he didn't think so and proceeded to have it chiseled until it looked like a crumpling roman ruin. That year my dad scored tickets to the Jackson 5 Victory Reunion tour stop in Phoenix. I had my outfit ready to go; a black top with my 'Duran Seven and the Ragged Tiger' concert tee underneath, black and white checkered pants, white leather Duran Duran style shoes, and yes one white glove. Sadly the tour was canceled and I would not get to wear my one white glove in public afterall.

All of this news made me feel old and a little sad but alas before I could think about it too much D.W and I headed to LA for a weekend of fabulousness and fun with Val and her hubby and my sis and her boyfriend. We ate and drank like kings, shopped and laughed pretty much the entire time. Our big Star Sightings were Rick Hilton (not the least bit exciting - why wasn't he with his whorish daughter) and Florence Henderson who looks exactly like she did as the mom on the Brady Bunch. WTF she truly has the best plastic surgeon in Beverly hills.

Our much needed restful week ended yesterday with a 5k charity run in the morning followed by what I like to call the "Annual Family Fourth of July Clusterfuck." The party ended up being very fun however my house looked like a frat party and was only missing the pizza on the turntable. DW's brother has 5 kids under the age of 10 including 2-year-old twin boys. While all the kids are incredibly cute, the concept of not coming into a house sopping wet and standing over wood floors is  pretty much completely lost on them. The glass door leading out to the  pool was so sticky dirty it looked like Ray Jay and Kim Kardashian filmed their sex tape against it. I'm still swatting flys in the house from the door opening in and out so much. Also If you want to piss off a 6 year old off throw him into the deep end of a pool cannon ball style while not knowing that he can't swim as my brother did to my nephew.  Vengeance was his when he later threw some free weights from upstairs down the stairs making my cream colored wall now with black weight skid marks look like the side of a drive-thru Daiquiri Hut.

All in all a good time was had by all and no one went home missing a tooth or with a black eye so clusterfuck was indeed a success and DW and I are sure to be in bed by 8 tonight -the night of our 12 year anniversary. 

Party on Garth and happy anniversary Baby !
-Parker

The Holy Terrors of NY

I've managed to break away from the "Michael Watch" in order to view the first two TIVO'd episodes of "NY Prep" on Bravo. For those of you lucky bastards who aren't familiar with the show, "NY Prep" revolves around 5 or 6 egocentric spoiled adolescents living in NY. These whippersnappers apparently have no parents and are free to party, dine and shop at their leisure without a care in the world. 

Watching this tragedy (and hating myself for it), I started to imagine what a reality show based on my high school in the 1980's would be like - and here's a rundown and comparison of the two shows:

Instead of "NY Prep", my high school reality nightmare  would be called "Tucson Parochial" - based on kids attending a Catholic high school in a hot desert city. 

• The kids of "NY Prep" have personal shoppers at Barney's NY, donning the newest Prada and Chloe line: the kids of "Tucson Parochial" find themselves shopping at Contempo Casuals and are decked out in amazing acid washed zipper jeans and polar fleece pullovers.
• The kids of  "NY Prep" often dine at Nobu and cozy French restaurants on the upper east side: The kids of "Tucson Parochial" prefer to chow down at the food court at Tucson Mall, frequenting Hot Dog on a Stick.
• The kids of "NY Prep" throw parties at hip Japanese karaoke bars and cool downtown lofts: The kids of "Tucson Parochial" meet up in the wash below Costco for late night bonfire and beer (Paps Blue Ribbon) parties.
  
• The kids of "NY Prep" have private drivers who cart them around the city in large black Cadillac Escalades: The kids of "Tucson Parochial" drive 4x4 trucks with KC lights or their grandmother's inherited Oldsmobile or K-Car.

Oh the comparisons could go on for days. And, while I (sadly) will continue to watch Bravo's latest staged reality show, I am starting to think that "Tucson Parochial" would be a much better show.

By the Way - if one of the students of "Tucson Parochial" were to show up anywhere wearing the brown suit with piped trim (as modeled by "PC" above) he would be stoned to death in the parking lot with Cholla Jumping Cactus.

Updates from the Command Post

I haven't been committing myself to my Michael Jackson command post (aka sitting on my large chocolate brown sofa, perched in front of my tv with  CNN blaring and  a MacBook on my lap). However, over the past few days I have learned a few interesting facts that may or may not be true about The King of Pop:

• At the time of his death, Michael Jackson was 5'11" and approx 115 lbs. It is just wrong that I am 5'2" and actually weigh more than a 5'11" black man. I read that Michael's ribs were broken when the doctor attempted to give him CPR. Meanwhile, anyone attempting to give me CPR would just have their hands sink into a virtual pile of marshmallow fluff.
• Its now coming to light that Michael was not the biological father of his three children. Well no shit. I never would have guessed that Prince Michael with his albino hair was sired by another man. 
• Bubbles the chimp is still alive and well living in a chimp sanctuary in Florida. Poor Bubbles, just a pawn in Michael's late 80's publicity stunt and thrown away like a used glove.
• I also read that Michael was completely bald at the time of his death. You mean that sleek soccer mom hair style was a wig all along? 
• Joe Jackson (Michael's abusive father) is a jack ass (promoting his lame record company the day after Michael's death) and is a complete moron (announcing that "every country in the US loved Michael). His eyebrows also make him look like a drunk Satan wandering the earth.
• Lou Ferrigno (or as Larry King repeatedly called him "Lou Ferragamo"; does he make leather goods on the side?) is a total publicity whore (who knew?). The Hulkster has been on no less than 50 news programs over the past week and has not once neglected to mention that not only was he buddies with Michael (who worked out with Lou while wearing a black tux - normal) but that he may be on next season's "Dancing with the Stars." Hey Lou - book yourself on the Insider a few more times with your tales of Michael on the exercise ball and you're a shoe in for the Dancing show!
• Corey Feldman and Michael Jackson had a falling out on September 10, 2001. Corey however has remained silent and won't comment on what they argument was about. Jesus Christ, can someone (TMZ, I'm talking to you!) get to the bottom of this so that I can sleep at night?