The Listy List

It's that time again. You know what time. When I fill you in on all the random and ridiculous things that occupy my life and times. The odds, ends and off the wall stuff that comprises This Bug's Life. Without further ado... The Listy List.

Hot Like Cajun



So the mercury climbed big time in NY a few weeks ago for two long days. It was hotter than the devil's balls out here; hitting record-breaking temps of up to 110 degrees. Now picture that with no AC. That's right. I have no air conditioning at my place by choice. I always got through summer with a spritz bottle and a high powered fan. But this heat was life changing. I had an epiphany- or I might have just been delirious from the heat, I dunno. I got through it with popsicles, multiple showers and more creative uses for ice cubes than Do the Right Thing. Oh, the pool helped too til I almost drowned. More on that later.


Let Me Out

I've had some time to ponder it and without the aid of a very expensive therapist I realize I have some serious trust issues stemming from my childhood. You see, my two older sisters thought it would be fun to zip a six year old into a suitcase. (Honestly, I thought so too.) They just didn't bank on my hair getting caught for two agonizing minutes. When they finally got me out they convinced me that our trip to Disneyworld the very next day would be nixed if I told my parents what happened. Those lying bitches...


Got ta Got ta , Na Na Na!





Okay, I really don't see what everyone is so open about when it comes to the new Kanye West and Jay Z song, Otis. Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying it's wack. I actually like the energy they both came with but the sample for Try A Little Tenderness is damn near the whole song. C'mon already! I like hip-hop samples to be a bit of a brainteaser. You sort of recognize it but not quite until you look into it. Now that's a song. Call me overly critical but production-wise they should have tried a little cleverness.



Sugary Coco Goodness



This Bug is officially addicted to Coconut M&M's. I know I'm late but I don't care. I'm about to cop a lifetime supply and stash them in the freezer because I know that 'limited edition' means they're testing it out on folks and it may never see the light of day again if the sales disappoint. I usually hate all coconut related chocolate. Mounds and Almond Joy sounds more like a movie I'd like to watch when no one else is around. But those little brown, white and green beads are what I believe little girls are really made of. Sugar and spice can't hold a candle to them. It's Yumma!


Dip, Dip Dive..




Let me start by telling you all that I know how to swim. Got that? I can swim. So no one was more surprised than me when I took a dive off the board and didn't have enough air to get to the surface. I went from assenting to struggling in seconds flat. Then I panicked. From underwater I heard the whistle blow and before I knew it- a really hot lifeguard came to my rescue. Really. Hot. I came up dripping wet, gasping for air, my string bikini top heaving between breaths... He held me up from behind against the corner of the pool until he was sure I was okay. Rumor has it that I did all of this on purpose just to get felt up by the Adonis statue with a pulse...but really I still don't know what happened down in that deep water. Truth is- I was scared shitless.


Fiyah Burn, Ya Betta Learn



A word to the wise: Smartphones are stupid. For all the fantastic apps and convenience they supposedly provide- it hardly seems worth it when my overly sensitive touchscreen calls people at ridiculous times of the night, shuts off all of my networks whenever it feels like it and uploads pictures to social networking sites that are not fit for anyone's eyes. Try not to harp on that. Just know that my phone is appropriately named the Torch because there's some hot stuff in there and sometimes...that's exactly what I'd like to do to it with some lighter fluid.


F.O.H!





Speaking of social networking-I almost never entertain ignorance online but a friend of a friend (and I use that term ever so loosely) made me pull out the big guns last week. Foolishly drawing comparisons between someone reacting on instinct and a group of adults publicly abusing a child was worthy of my wrath. I'll spare you the details but I will say that I verbally kicked her soapbox right out from under her. I didn't want to do it but she was so blissfully ignorant that I was forced to make her miserably knowledgeable about what's right, wrong, racist, funny and not fucking funny at all.


Shoephoria





I don't know if it was the sexy strappy leather, the jewel and pearl embellishments or what- but when I saw them, I had to have them. They're ethereal- if one can even describe a pair of shoes in that manner. It's kinda like what a mermaid would wear on her feet. If she had feet. Either way, this mermaid has them now. I know what you're thinking. Mermaid, Schmermaid. But did I mention that I really can swim?


Subtle, My Ass...



I wish I could tell you that this ad isn't from a real catalog that came to someone at my place of business. I wish I could tell you there is no such thing as adhesive patches to stick in your panties so you don't clear the room out after having Cheddar Broccoli soup for lunch. I wish they didn't seriously charge $19 dollars for a trademarked product they had the nerve to name SUBTLE BUTT. I wish the tiniest part of me didn't wonder for a split second what that patch must smell like at the end of the day once peeled from its right place. I wish these wouldn't make a great stocking stuffer for some people I know. I wish...



And now, a peek into This Bug's twisted sense of humor. Enjoy or be offended. Either way, blueberries are the bestest!



Peace Out, Cub Scouts!

Bitch and Pieces

This Bug is starting to realize that her existence must be for the sheer entertainment of one (or many) who sits on high, rolling the tape and pressing pause on my most jarring and hilarious moments (well..to them, anyway). That may seem ridiculous- but so does my life lately. The past few weeks have been nothing short of trying. I'll spare you the sordid details but the morsels are worth sharing.



From the Clunker Chronicles comes yet another tale of woe. Yes, I knew the car needed oil. That little genie-in-the-lamp light thingy on the dash told me so. Yes, I bought two quarts, poured them in and went about my business that day. When the car seemed to be smoking from under the hood hours later, I was puzzled. I bought some Antifreeze and popped the hood. Then I popped the trunk when I remembered that the hood doesn't stay open without being propped up by my trusty 'Peacemaker'. I think it was a broomstick in a former life. Just then, a stranger asked me if I knew what I was doing to which I haughtily replied that I did. Then I saw that I never screwed the oil cap back on from earlier that morning. The sad truth? That's not even the first time I've done that. I should just park up the jalopy and break out the mountain bike. No. I have no idea what I'm doing.




Up until this morning- I had no idea I subconsciously feared growing old. Then I woke up from a dream where I laid down, sans bra and my breast rolled and came to rest comfortably in my left armpit. I mean, even the nip was to the side instead of facing forward (upward?). I dunno. It was hella disturbing and I consider it a nightmare of epic proportions. Up there with when I was being stabbed in an alleyway while acid rain was melting my skin off. It's all pectoral flies and bench pressing from now. And lots and lots of moisturizing. Lots.



I'm so ashamed. Well, not quite. Suffice to say I dabble in the libations a bit. 3 Ciroc bottles. 2 Absoluts. 1 six pack of Heineken. 1 Guinness stout bottle. 6 empty cans of Dole pineapple juice that blend so perfectly with the coconut vodka. And oh, I almost forgot. One telling blue bottle of Reisling. And a partridge in a pear tree. You get the picture. The Hefty bag sounds like the circus is coming to town...or just left.


Um..New York City cops tend to disagree. Unless you have a hack license. That's next on the to-do list after I pay that blasted ticket.



Just so you know, This Bug imbibes more than grapes and grains. Thanks to Will Ferrell in The Other Guys I discovered how wonderfully refreshing a few slices of cucumber can be in ice cold water. Lemon water is so passé. Try it now. Thank me later. And Will, too.



Call it covetous. Call it unethical. Call it what you want. But there is only one pair left in my size at the side gig and I'm hiding them until the price inevitably gets marked down. Now, I know that in some way, shape or form this causes the company to lose money by preventing the common man from purchasing them full price. I get that. But I don't give a fat frog's ass. I've never owned anything so frivolous and over the top fashion-wise and perhaps never will again. Don't judge me...'til you see me sportin' them with some liquid leggings and a gorgeous blouse.


So last weekend my father goes into a popular Superstore that rhymes with Schmalmart. He picks up some coffee creamer and two sets of clothes hangers. Once the cashier rang him up- the total sounded unusually high. It turns out he picked the hangers up from an area they didn't belong in and was mislead about the price. So politely, he asks the cashier to remove the items based on the quality of the hangers in relation to price. Nothing more. She does this quickly and by herself as there was no need for a manager or the ever necessary 'key' at the register. Then she looks at my dad, scans the Coffeemate and says blankly, "You think you can handle that?" All I can say is that the Creator in His infinite wisdom saw to it that I was not there to witness this. She'd still be picking teeth along with whatever else she swallowed that day out of her shit right now.



Anyway, it's been a wild and sometimes taxing ride these past few weeks. I just wanted to share the bits and pieces...and maybe bitch a little. But even after all the frustration- something like this comes along and reminds me that there's always something to smile about:



"Well a very, very heavay ah, heavy dua, bertation tonight, we had a very derst, dereson, bite, lets go head terest tazon lusht to the vet to have the pet."

Fin

Maybe it's just me

I don't know if This Bug has ever mentioned it before, but I absolutely hate moving. Hate. Moving. Feel me? The packing. The lifting. The unpacking. It'll be here before I know it. Honestly, I am dreading it with every fiber of my body but that's not my point. Presently I'm faced with the laborious task going through my closet to figure out what goes and what stays. This would be so much easier if I had a group of girlfriends sitting on my bed with Yay or Nay signs like Carrie did in the Sex and The City movie, but nope. No such luck. It's just me. Me, the iPod and my impaired judgment after hours of separating countless garments. I don't regret most of my fashion choices per se, I'm just annoyed that a lot of it no longer fits my new but old but new frame. (I haven't been this size since high school) Anyway, while going through this daunting accumulation of clothes, I came across something that I almost completely forgot about.

We all know there are some things in this world that you're just better off buying for yourself rather than receiving it as a gift. Everyone has something that you just don't trust anyone else to get for you. For me, it's watches. No matter how nice a watch may be- I am almost never fully satisfied unless I handpicked it myself, but I digress. Some things do not need to be given as a gift. Case and point: Leather pants. When I came across these ancient slacks in my closet the other day I instantly remembered how confused I was to get such a strange gift for Christmas. Grateful yes, but confused all the same. You see, I got these pants from a dude I was seeing off and on for the better part of a year. That may sound intimate enough to receive leather pants from someone, but the truth is- we didn't really know each other that well. Obviously. The pants were not something I'd get for myself, let alone want someone else to get for me.

Now, I would love to tell you that the infamous leather jeans fit like the pair on the left. Love to. But facts are facts. What I unwrapped that fateful December day many moons ago... looked more like the image to the right. When I tried them on...it looked like I had a penis. I'm not kidding. There's no other way to put it. The crotch was mad long, Son. It looked like a nice sized package behind the zipper. What the? But I accepted them graciously and promptly put them away. Needless to say they never made it outdoors. Until now.


Anyway, in my quest to rid myself of excess baggage at my new place- someone at the Salvation Army is going to reap the benefits of my no longer impaired judgment. I'm talking about the guy, not the pants. We stopped seeing each other shortly after Jesus' birthday that year. Maybe someone else can fill them out in ways I never dreamed of. Who knows. What I do know is that by far, that was the weirdest gift I've ever gotten. It just completely missed the mark. This is what I have to look forward to. Sorting. Tossing. Keeping. Regretting. And rejoicing that I can part with horrible articles of clothing like that one. Word!

And now, a word from our big package sponsors:

T'is Never Dull. T'is My Life.

The time has come. When I revisit the one and only, tried and true *drum roll please* List. It cures my writer's block. Yay! You know This Bug's randomness knows no boundaries. Just my aimless observations and arbitrary findings. You should be used to it by now, no? Let's go.

It's quite possible that I work with the world's biggest Beatles fan of all time. She knows everything there is to know about their recordings, personal lives and a boatload of other trivia that most would never retain. She's given me a knew appreciation for their music. I'm not exaggerating on the biggest fan thing, either. Her license plate reads ABBEY RD. Thanks to her, A Day in the Life is officially my shit.

Guilty Pleasure #328: Overhearing sex or arguments from my neighbors downstairs. Lately, it's either one of the two every other day. Sometimes one directly follows the other on the same day. No lie. It's kinda like catching a double feature at the matinee without having to pay. Mighty entertaining when there's nothing on TV. Don't judge.

I don't know why, but now that every minute of the day is accounted for, more things seem to be adding themselves to my To-do list. The endless running is taking a toll. The clothes I bought to fit because I lost weight are now loose on me. I barely have time to eat and sleep is something I've heard normal people do for at least 7 hours. Right. Meanwhile, if you cut me- I'll bleed Red Bull.

It occurred to me the other day that a new beginning is on the horizon. I have mourned sufficiently even though there will never be another Logan. Bottomline: I'm ready for a new fish. It would be really cool if I could find that bowl above. Like, really. Cool.

Just as I was considering a nice little spa vacation in Arizona, it's looking like Lake Tahoe instead. I'm not going anywhere that Jim Crow laws are being installed only it happens to be Anti-Latino now instead of Anti-Black. At the same time, being harassed and arrested for being a possible 'suspect' is as close to home as it gets in my native New York. Call it what it is. Racial Profiling. Gotta love it. Secure the borders and break out the apple pie.

So here's what I've learned from the side hustle in a few short weeks: The women with the biggest feet try on the ugliest shoes and refuse to put them back. I mean, they will leave a plethora of size 11 boxes strewn all over the place. I know deep down they're just mad because once they get that big ass shoe on, the whole style done changed and it's not even cute anymore but still...It's taking everything in me to not get a running start and clothesline one of those Sasquatch bitches at least twice a week.

Lately I've been running into people who have very different if not unrealistic ideas on how to get rich quick. Far be it from me to knock down any one's dreams- but most of the time I've found that they are quite delusional. Then they sail off to Never Neverland with your good idea when all you did was simply make a suggestion born of common sense. What part of the game is that? Hustle harder and smarter, People.

Pop Tarts are evil. Especially when slathered with peanut butter at 2 a.m. But I just can't stop myself.

Okaaaay...It's been over a month since I called to cancel my landline. I simply don't need it anymore. Here's the thing: I still have a dial tone and can still make calls. And for some odd reason, the bill is correct. You won't catch me complaining, tho. Nuh-uh. Now I know why Verizon's slogan is "We never stop working for you."

Ladies, if he doesn't look at you like this- at least once in a while, he's just not that into you.

What's funnier than catching someone out there looking at inappropriate video sites with supersized headphones on at work? Let's see, the look on his face perhaps? Maybe the fact that he didn't even pick me up in his peripheral vision until I was two feet away because he was so engorged engrossed in what he was viewing. Or the fact that up until that day, he was a complete and total asshole to me and now he's sweet as pie. He lives in perpetual fear of my mentioning it to someone else...every day. Right place. Right time. And just like that, the universe rights itself. I love my life.

Brought to you by the Letter B...for bored.

Okay, lately I've been trying (mostly in vain) to look busy at work. I even took to Googling ways to look busy at work- since brazenly hunting for my dream job online and uploading my resume may not be the best of looks. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure it's frowned upon at any workplace. Anyway, in my quest to fool the overseers while browsing the internet- I learned a few things. Some relevant. Some not so. So all my Nine to Fivers...pay attention. You might learn a thing or three.



Strategically spread out paperwork on your desk will hide the truth that you finished that project hours ago. Make sure it looks somewhat organized. This way, if you're really bored and actually feel like working, you won't look so inundated that they don't pile on more to your faux workload. The key factor: Never ever have a clear desk. Like, ever.




I don't know if anyone else cares- but the fact that Oscar the Grouch was orange from 1969-1970 was a delicious piece of trivia to this Sesame Street aficionado. Who knew?




http://www.someecards.com/ has become an old-new guilty pleasure. How can I get a job there?



Contrary to my previous FB updates, Bagel Day at the job is not so bad. It takes care of my grumbly Morning tummy once a week and is a wonderful way to kill time once you factor in how long I take to make a cup of hot chocolate. Sidebar: Two packets of Swiss Miss will yield gloriously creamy results without adding dairy. No more watery Cocoa for This Bug!



More Sesame Street trivia on deck. Cookie Monster's "cookies" were actually rice cakes that were painted beige with brown dots to mimic chocolate chips. They began this method through trial and error when they realized real cookies soiled Muppet fur beyond repair. That's before they went all PC and started making him eat veggies. C'mon Son! That's why he was the wild ass Cookie Monster. Nobody goes that crazy for cauliflower.



Drink lots of water at work. The health benefits are a given and if the cooler is a decent distance away, it burns up some time. Plus, you''ll have to go to the restroom often which is a perfectly acceptable way to waste company time. You're human. Make sure to have some work related material in your hands when you take this little Agua trek. It gets you out of unwanted conversation by saying you really have to get back to (insert false project here). Still looking busy. Everybody wins.


Last one, I swear. Bert's vertical stripes were utilized to imply an uptight disposition. In contrast, Ernie's stripes are horizontal to make him appear more relaxed and easygoing. Brilliant! How cool is that? Okay, maybe it's not so cool...but at least I learned something new. It was so hard to tear myself away from that website. Seriously.



Screensavers are a dead giveway of how long you've been AWOL. Disable that shit. Stat.




Each time a co-worker approaches me with an issue and starts their sentence with "Here's the situation..." I fight the urge to break into Heavy D's verse. "Idio[di]cy. Nonsense violence. Not a good policy." I have Hip-Hop Tourettes. It's true. Sidebar: After eons of knowing the song, I never noticed until the moment I was typing this blurb that Idiodicy is not a freakin' word.
I guess we got to keep ourselves in check...or else it's...

That's it for now. Come back later.

Give the Lady A Hand

Better late than never is what I always say. I saw this Infomercial a few months back late one night. I sat there, jaw on the floor at the spectacle I was witnessing. My first thought? 'Hmmm, suggestive much? I can't be the only one that sees the hilarity in this.' Then I figured who needs to spend $19.95 on this contraption when any appendage will do. Sure enough, the comments on Youtube let me know I wasn't alone. Judging from the smiles on the model's faces, clearly everybody is happy in the ending. To be fair, there's a thin line between ridiculous and genius. Let's applaud one man's attempt to improve the quality of life...one Manual Gig at a time.

It's All in the Sauce

Okay, so a few days ago I headed to a diner for some late night nosh. Everyone knows the unwritten "Diner" rule. Don't order anything obscure. You know, like the Romanian steak with frizzled onions or the stuffed clams. Or anything that makes them go all the way to the deep freezer in the back. Save that stuff for a credible restaurant. Usually if you order breakfast or the common appetizers- you're good money. So I thought. I get the Buffalo Chicken poppers and a strawberry milkshake. The shake was cool- even if it tasted like Strawberry Quik with a scoop of ice cream blended in. The chicken, however was another story. I dunno. I think Buffalo, I think spicy. I think tangy. I think orange in hue at the very least. Nope. What I got was plain old chicken tenders. A nice golden brown with no zing to them at all. They had the nerve to bring it out with Bleu Cheese. As if my sensitive palate couldn't handle the overpowering blandness. I politely ask for more Buffalo sauce much to the waiter's chagrin. We both know damn well there wasn't any to begin with. He returns with a scary, radioactive looking liquid that resembled the color of Thousand Island dressing at the bottom and clear orange oil at the top. My fellow diner takes one look and asks, "Is it a chicken nugget or a what-the-f*ck it?"

Loud. Uncontrollable. Laughter. They probably think we're sauced. They may or may not be right.

Free Shots at the Regal Beagle?

Oh dear. (sigh) Where do I start? Janet...Janet... Janet. What the hell happened? If you haven't heard already, you can read about her charge here. Anyway, add this very unflattering mugshot to the long list of celebrities who decide to knock back a few and then hop in the whip. (Nick Nolte and George Clinton have the scariest mugshots on lock) Normally, I'd say that most of them are foolish for not having a driver instead of risking the DUI but...when was the last time you saw Joyce DeWitt do anything show biz related? Three's Company ended 25 years ago. I seriously doubt she has a driver. I sure hope this is the last of her reckless behavior. However, she looks like a seasoned alcoholic in that pic. Don't you just love how she still captures that 'deer in the headlights' expression? Mr. Roper would be so disappointed. Somewhere, Suzanne Sommers is on a white leather couch with a Thigh Master between her knees, reading this story in Variety and snorting through chuckles at this one. I just know it.

"Come and knock on our door...We've been waiting for youuuu.."

Don't Look Now...

For those of you who missed it- This Bug leads a pretty interesting life. I'm not sure why- but for some reason I'm always around to bear witness to the stranger things that tend to occur. This account is not so strange- but I still found it interesting. Trust me, Folks. I couldn't make this up.

So last week I'm staying at a hotel many states away from home. After soaking up monsoon-like rain in a place that is known for their sunshine (and evil Mickey Mouse Empire) I return to my room with my friend. He notices a peculiar note on the floor that was not there when we left hours ago. It reads:

I think you kind of cute. 954-XXX-XXXX (Insert Bold Person's Name Here)

The closet narcissist that is This Bug immediately panics. Ohmygod!!! Someone must be watching me! It's happened before, you know. Weird anonymous love note on my windshield once. Riiiight... No such thing this time. Upon further inspection- it's obvious the note was surreptitiously slipped under my room door for him. Silly me. I must be losing my touch. For pure entertainment, I urge him to call the number written in ladylike penmanship. You know, just for shits and giggles. He calls. A young woman with the slowest, country-est, cornbread & collard green eatin' Southern drawl answers. The following conversation ensues via speakerphone:

Bold Person: Hellaw?

Kind of Cute: Hey, I'm looking at this note I just found. I'm not really sure what it's about.

BP: Welllll, I'm not sho' I lef' it under da right door. (Giggles) But if dis is who ah think it is... ah thought you was kinda cute.

K.O.C. : Well, what did the person look like?

BP: You was brrrown skinnded...and Ummm...had drrraids. Is dat you?

(At this point, he and I are stifling wide-mouthed laughs. No sound coming out.)

K.O.C. : Um, yeah. That kinda sounds like me. I don't remember seeing you, though.

BP: When you seen me I was lookin' kinda busted. I had my hurr tied up in a scarf an' all...

K.O.C.: Oh. Okay. I might have seen somebody- but you went by in a flash. I might as well have seen a bunny rabbit run by.

BP: (Giggles into the phone) Welllll...I seent you. Mmm hmmm..

The conversation moves to who she is staying with, how long she'll be at the hotel, plans for a club later that night and how she could come down to his room if he wasn't busy. (Cue sound of needle scratching across the record here.) Wait. WTF?! Is she crazy? Now granted- Kind of Cute looks awful breezy. Harmless, even. Which he is. But this girl didn't know him from a can of Benjamin Moore. Judging from the convo, she could have easily made her way to a rendezvous with nothing but a man, some GHB spiked drinks, pliers and some duct tape.

K.O.C. : Actually...I'm not even there right now. I just ran in and out when I found your note. I thought it might have been a receipt I dropped earlier. Maybe later on tonight I can catch up with you.

BP: Yeahhhh....Aight den...gimme a call layter. Furreal. (More giggles)

I quietly prompt Kind of Cute to have her send a pic of herself to his phone. You know, just so he can remember the bunny that skittered by. She agrees. Oh! How I wish I could post that photo. You have NO idea. But I'll be fair. Plus, he probably deleted it by now. She wasn't a hot sizzlin' mess...but an odd, broad shouldered mess all the same. Minutes later he gets a text asking if he received her pic. We erupt into laughter. He replies that his is on the way. He never sends one. Anyway, to my knowledge there was no further exchange between Bold Person and Kind of Cute. And This Bug actually learned a few things. One: You never know who's in stealth mode watching you come and go from your hotel room. Two: No notes for me that weekend- I have officially lost my touch. Three: There is no such thing as too forward in those parts. That shy Country Girl shit is an act.

M-I-C See you in your room...
K-E-Y Why? Becuz you kinda cute...
M-O-U-S- Too Easy!

One Less Egg to Fry

Remember back in the day when you went to the store with your Moms and she told you not to wander off or get on her last nerve. You just knew not to test her gangsta cuz deep down, you knew that your ass would get left. I thought this was limited to Black mothers only but lo and behold, upper-crust suburban mothers do not play, either. Enter Madlyn Primoff. If you haven't already caught this on the news- you can quickly read about it here. Apparently her two daughters were acting a fool, arguing in the car and she had had enough. She gave both of their asses the boot and peeled out. Her 12 year old was smart fast enough to run after the car. The 10 year old however- ate her dust and was later taken to a police station by a Good Samaritan. This is where it gets really amusing. This woman actually called police to report her daughter missing. Missing? Really? Why not call up and ask if they have a kid who didn't know how to act hanging around there? When she came to retrieve her child from police custody- she was promptly arrested for child abandonment and child endangerment. I wish I could say I fault this woman but This Bug respects her gangsta. Sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do. And I know anything could have happened to the little girl in her absence...but it didn't. I bet those girls will think twice before bickering too loudly in the car about some Jonas Brothers cd or a borrowed Ed Hardy t-shirt from now on. Sidebar: Why does her mugshot look like she's in total shock over why she's there? She should have kept it G; on some " Nah, I left her ass. That's right. One less egg to fry. One less bed to make. Deuces!"

This is America, Jack!

Things I learned from Coming to America:

When in the presence of royalty, you might not know whether to bow or shake a hand. You'll feel like breakdancing!

A random act of kindness is enough to put two scheming commodity brokers back in business without the benefit a corporate bailout.

Donation plates can be easily mistaken for the trash.

The jury is still out on Martin Luther The King punching someone in the chest.

While three bathers may be on the job, it only takes one to make sure the Royal Penis is clean. Scuba divers need not apply.

If anyone wants to keep working at McDowells, they'll have to stay off the drugs.

It turns out that only GOD that sits on high helped Gilligan get off the island.

Thanks to this film, I now know what a pizzle is. And a diseased one on a Rhino cannot possibly be a pretty sight.

If the rent is due, that falling-down-the-stairs shit will not result in a grace period.

When giving donations, remember that most are happy to get the kind that jingles- but they'd rather have the kind that folds.

The fact that your girl don't want you no more might be tough to get through your greeezy head.

Your robbery will quickly be thwarted if you talk like you should be sucking on a bar of Irish Spring.

If done properly, a hand job over the jeans- but under the jacket can be quite satisfying.

Do not leave your luggage in the cab longer than 10 seconds in the 'common parts' of Queens.

In addition to rigorous etiquette training for a King, a selected Queen-to-be will be completely free from infection.

MC Peaches may have the hiccups- but that doesn't stop all the DJ's for wanting to feel her breasts.

The children really are our future. We should teachthemwelland...let dem lead the waaay.

Being heir to a Jherri Curl empire cannot compete with having your OWN Big Faces.

A simple snip of a rat tail braid goes for $8.00 at your local barber shop.

And now, for the sake of posterity...

Why Beat Around the Bush?

Okay, I just saw the above commercial on TV and just about fell out of bed. Are they serious? I know things are different these days. Brazilian waxes can come up at the breakfast table and no one will bat an eye, now. I can recall a time when pruning the Lady Garden was not an openly discussed matter. But this ad has all the subtlety of a jackhammer. Pretty women on their way out the door, ready for the world...now that the bush has been minimized. I can just imagine the creators of this commercial sitting around- kicking around ideas for the pitch.

Ad Man 1: Hmmm...Schick TrimStyle. TrimStyle...Trim. That's what it does. It trims the hedges. How do we illustrate that?

Ad Man 2: Why don't we show hot young chicks doing their everyday thing...but with little hints of bushes shrinking in the background? We'll use CGI. It'll be great.

Ad Man 1: Right...no shrubbery was harmed during the making if this commercial. Diminish the bush- not a lot, just a little. I mean, it's just a razor after all. You think they'll get it?

Ad Man 2: Of course they'll get it. Okay wait...Why don't we throw in a triangular bush at the end! You see where I'm going with this?

Ad Man 1: I freakin' love it. Get the storyboards drawn up. This is gonna be hot!

And for my next trick...

I know Christmas is a good nine months away, but I've recently been in talks with my sister about the upcoming Holiday season. We definitely have the "Ugly Christmas Sweater Party" on smash. Those who are too cool to don a colorful knitted Christmas catastrophe will be left out in the cold. Which will really suck- because they'll miss me and my Rudolph after many cups of spiked eggnog. Hope to see you there!