Pretty bad when even Beyonce lip-syncs to Beyonce.
Could have been worse. Beyonce could have lip-synced to Roseanne Barr's singing of the Star Spangled Banner.
Actually, I think I might pay money to see that ...
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
My Blog in 2012
This time last year, I decided to spend less time writing content-mill dribble and focus on learning how to writing. Some ideas surfaced as public posts. A few of those garnered a surprising number of views. Who knew so many people wanted to know about P'zolo?
The numbers tracked by Sitemeter.com look promising. I have no idea how many of those views are people and how many are bots trolling my site.
Also, I've had a large number of visits from Russia, especially these past couple of months. Why? I have no national secrets here. Much of my money is already extorted by our American mob; so, sorry, Russian mobsters.
Are people in Russia that curious about a boring American? How about a comment or two? Please.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
How do you handle cheese on fire?
"A road tunnel in northern Norway will be shut for several weeks after a 27-ton truckload of sweet goat's milk cheese caught fire."
You just can't make this stuff up. It took firefighters 4 days to put out the molten cheese. Not too long of a time when you consider that some of the firefighters had to get fondue sticks, another group had to stop for bread sliced into cubes, and every one else had to bring the wine and a piano for sing-alongs during the feast.
All went well. When a reporter asked one of the firefighters how their efforts were going, he replied, "It's not gouda, but it's not too baa-aad either."
Sorry. Sorry. I just heard a popular rapper wail a "song" full of puns. It was terrible. Of course, puns always get a bad rap ...
You just can't make this stuff up. It took firefighters 4 days to put out the molten cheese. Not too long of a time when you consider that some of the firefighters had to get fondue sticks, another group had to stop for bread sliced into cubes, and every one else had to bring the wine and a piano for sing-alongs during the feast.
All went well. When a reporter asked one of the firefighters how their efforts were going, he replied, "It's not gouda, but it's not too baa-aad either."
Sorry. Sorry. I just heard a popular rapper wail a "song" full of puns. It was terrible. Of course, puns always get a bad rap ...
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Are you a babe magnet?
My friend considers himself a babe magnet. He just doesn't realize his magnetic polarity is more repulsion than attraction.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
My Instant Indoor Pool
Today's home adventure started when I opened the door and stepped inside into a shallow pool. This would have been a great experience except I wasn't wearing swimming trucks. More importantly, I don't normally have a pool in my house.
Thanks to my washing machine hoses, water had gathered on the floor and traveled to the door to greet me. To show my thanks, I dashed to the washer and frantically twisted the shutoff valves to end my indoor waterway.
Because my house is almost 60 years old, all of the "shutoff" valves have aged into "reduce to a aggravating trickle" valves - the politest term I can type here. This means finding a bucket large enough to catch the continued flow of water while I rush to the store for plumbing supplies. So I disconnected those faulty hoses from the washer and shoved them into the washer's tub. Later, a run of the rinse cycle would remove all evidence of a leak.
With the errant water under control, I sped to my trustee low-priced venue. Lucky for me, Wal-mart is only five minutes away.
Amazingly, Wal-mart still sold the same brand of washer hoses that I installed two years ago - the same cheap "warrantied for 5 years provided you still have the original receipt" hoses.
Original receipt? Given Wal-mart's high quality fares, why would I hold to a receipt? Obviously, I must had bought a rare defective set of hoses. "What are the chances of another bad purchases?", I thought as I paid for my new set.
The scary part came after installed them. Water and plumbing have never been close friends of mine. So with my washer on the left side of my head and the hot/cold valves on my right, I scanned side-to-side inspecting each connection as I slowly turned the water on.
When I had the water pressure fully on and saw with no leaks, I breathed a sigh of relief. Success!
I then learned something new. When cheap hoses give way and begin drenching you in stereo, you can't shut the water off fast enough.
I ended up spending another hour doing what I should have done in the beginning: replacing Wal-mart's $14 pretend plumbing with Lowe's $20 professional set of hoses.
Fortunately, this time I had Wal-mart's receipt.
Thanks to my washing machine hoses, water had gathered on the floor and traveled to the door to greet me. To show my thanks, I dashed to the washer and frantically twisted the shutoff valves to end my indoor waterway.
Because my house is almost 60 years old, all of the "shutoff" valves have aged into "reduce to a aggravating trickle" valves - the politest term I can type here. This means finding a bucket large enough to catch the continued flow of water while I rush to the store for plumbing supplies. So I disconnected those faulty hoses from the washer and shoved them into the washer's tub. Later, a run of the rinse cycle would remove all evidence of a leak.
With the errant water under control, I sped to my trustee low-priced venue. Lucky for me, Wal-mart is only five minutes away.
Amazingly, Wal-mart still sold the same brand of washer hoses that I installed two years ago - the same cheap "warrantied for 5 years provided you still have the original receipt" hoses.
Original receipt? Given Wal-mart's high quality fares, why would I hold to a receipt? Obviously, I must had bought a rare defective set of hoses. "What are the chances of another bad purchases?", I thought as I paid for my new set.
The scary part came after installed them. Water and plumbing have never been close friends of mine. So with my washer on the left side of my head and the hot/cold valves on my right, I scanned side-to-side inspecting each connection as I slowly turned the water on.
When I had the water pressure fully on and saw with no leaks, I breathed a sigh of relief. Success!
I then learned something new. When cheap hoses give way and begin drenching you in stereo, you can't shut the water off fast enough.
I ended up spending another hour doing what I should have done in the beginning: replacing Wal-mart's $14 pretend plumbing with Lowe's $20 professional set of hoses.
Fortunately, this time I had Wal-mart's receipt.
Wednesday, January 09, 2013
The Battle Begins
As I got up out of the chair, I felt very light-headed. Not to worry. My blood pressure wasn't at 9-1-1 levels. I simply had had 5 pounds of hair removed by my barber.
That's what happens when the joys of work keep you from getting a haircut. My last one was before Halloween. Scary.
It also didn't help that I had begun to enjoy my long, flowing, artificially-colored brown hair. I looked like an older, sexy Fabian - if Fabian had a stressful day-job, graying hair, early stages of wrinkles, and no sex-appeal. Aside from those minor differences, people would consider us twins. Especially if those people were blind.
Regardless, the other day my boss was fretting over the upcoming investors meeting. When he saw me, he remarked that I looked a little too shaggy. I said, "Great, you be Scooby-Doo and we'll solve this mystery of 'our vanishing paychecks while the company has record profits.'" ... to myself. With maturity comes the knowledge of when to be a smart-ass and when keep certain thoughts suppressed.
My boss continued by saying my "unconventional mane" might suggest that I have a beef with the company. I said, "Great, I was planning to begin my presentation by offering hamburgers to the investors."
This, I said out loud. Sometimes, you have to push the envelope - even if it might contain a pink slip. Besides, I understand McDonald's double cheese burger has some cow. (I read that on the Internet. So it must be true.)
I also reminded him that my looks might be unconventional because everyone else at that meeting would be bald. Not the best look on our 55-year old human resource director - Mrs. Winklestein. Even so, with her at the meeting, I figured my long hair wouldn't attract much attention. The investors would spend more time reflecting. So to speak.
Still, my boss gently suggested - "gently" on this side of threatening unemployment - that, if the powers-that-be ever consider pay-raises, I could be a hair's width away from having my extra efforts, my unpaid overtime, and my subtle attempts at ass-kissing wiped out.
As I got up out of the chair from our little chat, I felt very light-headed. My blood pressure was "You win this time" over "This isn't over".
That's what happens when the joys of work keep you from getting a haircut. My last one was before Halloween. Scary.
It also didn't help that I had begun to enjoy my long, flowing, artificially-colored brown hair. I looked like an older, sexy Fabian - if Fabian had a stressful day-job, graying hair, early stages of wrinkles, and no sex-appeal. Aside from those minor differences, people would consider us twins. Especially if those people were blind.
Regardless, the other day my boss was fretting over the upcoming investors meeting. When he saw me, he remarked that I looked a little too shaggy. I said, "Great, you be Scooby-Doo and we'll solve this mystery of 'our vanishing paychecks while the company has record profits.'" ... to myself. With maturity comes the knowledge of when to be a smart-ass and when keep certain thoughts suppressed.
My boss continued by saying my "unconventional mane" might suggest that I have a beef with the company. I said, "Great, I was planning to begin my presentation by offering hamburgers to the investors."
This, I said out loud. Sometimes, you have to push the envelope - even if it might contain a pink slip. Besides, I understand McDonald's double cheese burger has some cow. (I read that on the Internet. So it must be true.)
I also reminded him that my looks might be unconventional because everyone else at that meeting would be bald. Not the best look on our 55-year old human resource director - Mrs. Winklestein. Even so, with her at the meeting, I figured my long hair wouldn't attract much attention. The investors would spend more time reflecting. So to speak.
Still, my boss gently suggested - "gently" on this side of threatening unemployment - that, if the powers-that-be ever consider pay-raises, I could be a hair's width away from having my extra efforts, my unpaid overtime, and my subtle attempts at ass-kissing wiped out.
As I got up out of the chair from our little chat, I felt very light-headed. My blood pressure was "You win this time" over "This isn't over".
Thursday, January 03, 2013
Giving Drunk Sailors a bad name.
Tonight, the talking heads on TV ranted about Congress and Obama spending money like drunken sailors. Really?
I have many friends in Navy. They drink. They know to stop when they ran out of money.
I have many friends in Navy. They drink. They know to stop when they ran out of money.
Tuesday, January 01, 2013
Happy new calendar day!
Last night, I watched some of the craziness on television: a sparkly Ryan Seacrest covering for Dick Clark, an aging Jenny McCarthy attacking anyone in a uniform, and the highly-hyped performance of Justin Bieber. I listened to my neighborhood erupting into a combat zone of celebratory explosions. And, of course, I read the overflowing repetition of Twitter's obvious trend for the evening - "the fiscal cliff". Sorry, "Happy New Year".
Were the Mayans this enthusiastic when they changed their 2 ton stone calendar? I'm sure someone started their new year with a hernia. Not to worry though. The Mayan priest/doctor easily fixed that painful hernia at sunrise when the calendar changer had his heart sacrificially ripped out.
Of course, these days we don't have to worry about those kind of heart breaks at year's end. We have the more agonizing holiday ritual of "Sorry. It's not you, it's me."
I'm not saying that the Mayans didn't get worked up last night. At least one group wet themselves when the year's number increase by 1 - that party pack of girls named Maya. (Or Maia. That missing "I" in team has to go somewhere.) Justin Bieber's appearance may have helped their fervor a little too.
Anyway, this year I resolve not to make any resolutions. What's the point? When I break the word down, I get re-solutions. "Re" as in "again". And, "solutions" as in "something that you've already fixed". Why would I spend time fixing something all over again? Do we really need to live by motto, "if it's not broke then ... you didn't try hard enough."?
Maybe that's why we make "resolutions". We didn't fix it right the first time. Maybe that's why the ancient Mayan civilization disappeared. They didn't make a resolution to meet Justin Bieber. And fix him. Hopefully, our modern group of Mayans (and MaIans) have a better chance.
Were the Mayans this enthusiastic when they changed their 2 ton stone calendar? I'm sure someone started their new year with a hernia. Not to worry though. The Mayan priest/doctor easily fixed that painful hernia at sunrise when the calendar changer had his heart sacrificially ripped out.
Of course, these days we don't have to worry about those kind of heart breaks at year's end. We have the more agonizing holiday ritual of "Sorry. It's not you, it's me."
I'm not saying that the Mayans didn't get worked up last night. At least one group wet themselves when the year's number increase by 1 - that party pack of girls named Maya. (Or Maia. That missing "I" in team has to go somewhere.) Justin Bieber's appearance may have helped their fervor a little too.
Anyway, this year I resolve not to make any resolutions. What's the point? When I break the word down, I get re-solutions. "Re" as in "again". And, "solutions" as in "something that you've already fixed". Why would I spend time fixing something all over again? Do we really need to live by motto, "if it's not broke then ... you didn't try hard enough."?
Maybe that's why we make "resolutions". We didn't fix it right the first time. Maybe that's why the ancient Mayan civilization disappeared. They didn't make a resolution to meet Justin Bieber. And fix him. Hopefully, our modern group of Mayans (and MaIans) have a better chance.
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