What a dope. I bashed a door into my face yesterday (and a sharp part of my glasses into my open eye), and now I cannot stop weeping (and writhing in pain). Fantastic — time to call the opthoalsghlaskdmfalgist.
All I really want to do right now is spend the night in a giant beagle. Instead, I’m getting ready to go to the emergency room.
Help, I’m stupid and I can’t see!®
Fink out.
~
Of course she did, dear.
And so it goes: another pro athlete arrested for stupid behavior that threatens an otherwise entitled and charmed life. Some people can’t see how fortunate they are. The man is blessed with tackling talent that eventually gives him an embarrassment of riches. After retirement from the NFL, he is paid handsomely to hang around the sidelines and give his opinion on stuff. Difficult job.
It’s a cruel statement, “You can take the boy out of the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto out of the boy.” Yet it’s been proven over and over again in pro sports — especially the NBA and NFL. Fortunately, these jokers seem to be in the minority; most pro athletes make it through their careers without spending a single night in jail. Imagine that.
And then there’s the ubiquitous shirking of any blame whatsoever. Why do they do this so consistently? Because they get away with it so frequently. Why take the blame when you can successfully point the finger at someone or something else? Sapp will plead innocent, even if they send him to jail (which they won’t). It’s *always* somebody else’s fault. And even though the truth — either hard or circumstantial — will stare the judges right in the face, they will slap little Warren with an earth-shattering punishment by fining him and sending him back to his “job” on the NFL network for seven figures, so, you know, we can repeat this scenario in five years or so and go through the same process with the same result.
And the sad part is, it’s not limited to pro sports. But don’t get me started on that. I’m actually in a good mood today.
Y’ know…I don’t ask for much.
Tonight, I’m leaving for Cincinnati to go to a music geek convention. Yesterday, after a particularly difficult day, I called the hotel down there to confirm, and I asked about WiFi. The nice gal said, “Yes, we do have internet access in the rooms — it’s $9.95 per night.”
“$9.95 per night!!??”, I shot back. “This is the Hyatt Flippin Regency fuh cripesake! Motel 6 and Super 8 will give you WiFi for FREE, but you are charging $150 per night for a room AND $10 to get on the web!??”
She apologized, then I apologized. I told her I knew it wasn’t her fault, but that somebody is getting rich off this and it ain’t the poor slobs who pay for the privilege of a bed and a shower. I know…I get reimbursed by the school for the expenses, but it’s the principle of the thing. Honestly. Find any little reason you can to rip folks off (sorry for the split infinitive; I’m honked).
*straightening hair and skirt*
Just saw these comments on a Toledo TV station news article about a woman who left her 3-year-old daughter on the side of a road:
~
Anyway. At least the day sucked and I had a really difficult tap rehearsal and got home at 9:30 and now every single school in the area is on a 2-hour snow delay — except mine. Ah, wait. Just got the call.
Time for more coffee…and time to pack! Happy Thursday, fiends. I will post to you tomorrow after paying $10 for the privilege.
Fink out.
Ah, the ghostie shows again. Their utterly hideous line deliveries make television’s worst actor, David Caruso, look positively Shakespearean.
Last night, as the Thriller watched one of these “SyFy” (synonymous with horrendously bad screenwriting and acting — and if you think ghostie shows aren’t totally scripted and craftily edited, you’re mistaken) gems, I transcribed what I heard. Brilliant stuff. Behold…
(Spoken with infernal, nonstop banging sound in the background)
“Hey, what was that?”
“Something just went FOOoOOOoOo!”
“I heard something behind me, bro.”
“Don’t show fear!”
“I just saw a shadow.”
“I saw a mist grab Nick’s leg!”
“Smell this. We are smelling sulfur, which is a bad thing.”
“It’s pandemonium right now.”
“I got eyeball pain really bad.”
(Calling out) “How many spirits are here with me right now?”
“Dude, that’s not good.”
Next: the country’s only haunted tattoo parlor. I cannot wait. Heh heh. Makes me laff. Maybe that’s the reaction they’re looking for.
Ghostie shows: closet comedy. Kind of like Pat Robertson’s recent boneheaded comments.
When editing a post, do not press the button immediately next to “Update Post” labeled “Delete,” and then confirm it.
Cripes.