Last night, I attended an anniversary party for a French restaurant of which I’m rather fond. The Seattle folks ate there while in town visiting. The theme of the party? S&M Burlesque. The best part? It was a charity fund raiser for schools. Let me tell you right now, folks, if all school fundraisers were like this, I’d be broke. The kitchen poured out food, drinks were available at multiple bars and the eye candy…was plentiful. Here are some shots of the evening.
Oh yeah…there was food there, too.
Funniest part of the night - in the last picture after the cut, you’ll see a tall, striking blonde woman. She was approached by a middle aged man who introduced himself and then said, “What’s your name?” She said, “Gigi.” His response?
All signs point to your daughter, Casey, as the likely murderer of your grandchild, Caylee. If you think the police aren’t looking for Caylee, it’s because they’re pretty sure it wasn’t a rotting pizza in the trunk of that car. Or a dead squirrel. Your daughter took a month to report that her child was missing. And the text messages she sent? Yeah, not so good. She will probably be in jail for life. Please to be dealing appropriately.
I whip open the shower curtain when I’m done with my shower. That is, if it was even closed entirely to begin with. The cold air doesn’t bother me. Every woman I’ve ever dated closes the bathroom door and practically platic-seals herself in the shower and when done, only reluctantly reaches a hand out enough to grope for a towel before disappearing back behind the curtain like the Wizard of Oz. When Boss would get done with a shower, I’d walk into a room full of steam and the mirror would be weeping. And she’d still be shivering.
2. There was some kid on the Today show whose arm was torn off by a crocodile when he went swimming…at night. Every time I hear one of these stories, I wonder why the person went swimming someplace where there are crocs. It has never even occurred to me to do that. It isn’t like you see people on the Discovery channel peacefully swimming with them like you do with some sharks. Pretty much everyone avoids them. They’re hard enough to spot but to go at night just seems to be asking for trouble. Or, in this kids case, a bionic arm.
3. I saw this ad yesterday and did a double take when I saw the feather duster peek out behind the leg of one of the mariachi band members.
Boss and I had dinner last night. I heard the latest about her day:
1. A kindergarten boy left the bathroom naked…except for his shirt. In his hand? His underwear. Filled with poop. Apparently, the wall had received a new paint job.
2. Another kindergarten teacher peeked into the boys bathroom after hearing some singing and found a little boy with his pants and underwear down around his ankles as he used the urinal. He was shaking his butt back and forth and singing with his hands up in the air. She asked him to come see her after he was done. She wanted to inform him that a hands-on approach might be the way to go. He walked out of the bathroom when done to see her…with his pants and underwear still down around his ankles.
3. The bathroom sinks have those faucets that turn on by pushing down on a round cylinder shape - I think that’s an early 1980’s style. Anyway, they’re sometimes hard to push which is why Boss walked into the bathroom to see that a little boy had climbed on top of the sink so he could step on the nozzle for other people to wash their hands.
As for my day? I woke up this morning to a cold nose and air on my face. I opened an eye and saw Little Filthy demanding we go pay homage to the breakfast gods. I grabbed my phone and snapped him staring. Monster.
I realize that what some people like about Sarah Palin is that she seems like an average American.
What I don’t get is why that’s a good thing.
Don’t get me wrong. America is a great country and the Americans sometimes amaze me with their strength. But the average American isn’t wowing me with average intelligence. Can I say that? The average person is just that - average.
I don’t want the country being run by someone with average intelligence. (I know she’s a VP candidate but let’s face it…with a 1 in 3 chance of McCain dying in his first term, I have to consider the possibility of her being President…and anyway, I want someone smart for VP, too.) And I don’t get these McCain comments in which he says that Palin won’t impress anyone with her Harvard degree because she doesn’t have one. Okay, so, when did having a degree from Harvard become some badge that indicated the recipient was no longer human and down to Earth? Did I miss something? And you know what, John McCain? I’m not so stupid that I’d vote for someone purely because they had a Harvard degree so don’t insult my conscious choice of who I want to be President by reducing it to where someone went to school. That’s ridiculous. You don’t have to go to Harvard to be smart but it helps to be smart to go to Harvard. Which brings me to my next point:
I want someone smart running the country. I want someone infinitely smarter than me. I don’t want Joe six-pack running the country. Is that wrong of me? I don’t even want an average dentist working on my teeth or an average contractor working in my home. We don’t trust average Americans to run our companies and just become CEO - why the hell would we want an average person running the freakin’ country? I don’t get it.
I wonder if people in other countries are looking at this campaign saying, “Look at those Americans. They don’t even care if someone is smart…they are going to elect this woman because they think she is pretty. Quick, hand me something that glitters…they will make it Secretary of State.”
October 08, 2008By: Random Esquire Category: humor
I saw this dude - Martin Sullivan, former CEO of AIG - on television. He was in front of Congress trying to explain why AIG executives spent $440,000 on a week long retreat in California after tax payers spent $85 Billion dollars bailing out the company.
And his hair was very white except for a tinge of yellow. It was gen-u-ine old man hair.
Here’s how to identify genuine dirty old man hair: It looks like mayo that’s been left out too long and has started to go yellow.
October 08, 2008By: Random Esquire Category: humor
In 1966, a young film maker named Frederick Wiseman filmed for four weeks inside the Bridgewater State Prison for the Criminally Insane in Massachusetts which was run by the Massachusetts Department of Corrections. It showed the routine of the prisoners - psychiatric sessions, force-feeding of inmates, bathing, shaving. The film screened at the New York Film Festival before the Mass Supreme Ct ordered that it be banned and destroyed, saying it violated the privacy rights of the people shown. The Superior Court, in 1969, said it could be shown to professionals. Wiseman appealed to the U.S. Surpreme Court, which refused to hear the case. It was the first time in U.S. film history that a film was banned “not for reasons of obscenity, immorality or national security.”
In 1991, the Superior Court reversed the ruling and in 1992, PBS showed the film. It was called Titicut Follies after the variety show at the Mass. Correctional Institute. I happened to see it and had no idea what it was at the time. One scene stuck out in my mind. It was of a thin patient being strapped down on a bed and a man feeding a long tube in through his nose down into his stomach. When the tube was fully inserted, the man (doctor?) stuck a funnel on the top of the tube and poured something the consistency of pancake batter into the funnel, thus force feeding the man. He had a cigarette in his mouth, the ash dangling over the funnel.
October 06, 2008By: Random Esquire Category: humor
1. I was on a conference call last week with the Italian when I got an instant message from him that went like this:
“I’m too sexy.”
“I’m too sexy for this call.”
“Too sexy for this call.”
“So sexy it hurts.”
This is my life, people.
2. I bought a lap top today. Presumably so Sitcom and I could go sit at a coffee shop and work on a writing project. I got a Sony Viao - the new CS series, I believe (one of the pre-releases)…that glows when you stroke it. I didn’t get pink, by the way. I got black.
Today, I looked up to find her sitting just on the other side of the glass, having a staring contest with Little Filthy. I got some crackers, walked out on the patio and set them down on the rail while she watched me, just a few inches away. I went back inside and watched as she grabbed a cracker, ran along the building ledge to my neighbor’s patio and buried a cracker in one of her flower pots. She did that with two more crackers and then sat on the railing and ate the last one. I’m imagining my neighbors face when she finds her plants have sprouted crackers.
I think tomorrow will be oats and peanut butter. I’m going to get her so fat, she needs to be moved with a forklift. Then my work will be done.
We started our evening off with a fine dinner at MK. Oysters on the half-shell and foie gras along with some cocktails to start. MK generously gave us champagne to go with our meal. I had their signature porkchop and my mother dined on whitefish with lobster. We also ate, at Instigator’s suggestion, their pomme frites with truffle cream and let me tell you… I could have eaten them until I died. They are on my “last meal request” list now. We had a very light banana bread pudding with a salted caramel that was fantastic. At one point in the meal, my mother said, “Are you going to take pictures?” I said, “No…this meal is about you time so no pictures.” I could tell she was happy but also sort of wanted pictures of the food to remember it all. The good thing? The manager happened to see my reservation (I assume that’s how he knew?) and came to the table and we talked about re-visiting the place to get some pictures of the food. So it all worked out in the end.
Then we went to see Tina. We were running a little bit behind so I hailed a cab. The driver stopped, rolled down his window and said, “Where you going?” I said, “United Center.” He said, “NO, no, I don’t want to go back there!” and then he started to drive off. I barked, “BIG TIP!” and the brake lights went on. We got in and got a fast ride over. His tip was a throat punch. Okay, not really.
Just before the show, Oprah walked in with Stedman and Gayle. Flash bulb city. Then…the show. It was good and the first big concert my mother has ever been to. She had a grin on her face the entire time. My worries that she’d be distracted with thoughts of my grandmother’s health or a difficult family issue from almost exactly one year ago were calmed and that made me happy. Anyway! So, Tina Turner has “half-time” because, I suppose, the woman is 68 and just burned 3,000 calories in the first 45 minutes and needs to re-fuel with an Ensure. The lights go up and my mother is glancing over at a bunch of people taking pictures. I said, “Who are they taking pictures of? Oprah?” She said, “Some short little white guy.”
Yeah. It was Tom Cruise.
So, just to recap the evening…
My evening involved my mother, Tina Turner, Oprah and Tom Cruise.
1. Yesterday, a co-worker walked into my office with a flower arrangement (Sunflowers!) that had been delivered for me. I am quite sure I looked at her like she was crazy when she said they were for me. I turned crimson. Turns out, QTMama had sent them in reference to this and that. The best part? The card. It said, “You are the best dude ever, my friend.” (Here is QTMama’s take on the flower giving.)
2. Boss called me yesterday after another harrowing day of teaching 33 kindergarteners. THIRTY-THREE, people. I couldn’t keep 33 adults quiet and attentive for 10 minutes let alone 33 five year olds. She said that she told a little boy not to run in the hallway as he ran past her. She said, “Then he ran back and punched me in the vagina!”
*Blink*
I mean, I guess that’s about the height for it, right? I said, “Uhh…(pause)…was it an uppercut?”
She said, “YES.”
Let’s get a little Rooney Rant in here, too.
3. Don’t ask me to dumb down your contract language so that a lay person can understand it without picking up a legal dictionary. And don’t freakin’ call it legalese as if that’s a bad thing. It’s a legal document. It might have legal terms in it. Its intended audience is attorneys. I don’t ask doctors to dumb down their medical journals so that I can understand it without knowing any medical terms. Don’t ask me to dumb down your contract. BARK BARK BARK.
4. Dude. Don’t quote that stupid line “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers” to me in some attempt to be pejorative about attorneys. Because all that tells me is that you can read Shakespeare but that you fail to understand Shakespeare. If you re-read Henry VI, Part II, Act IV, Scene 2 - you’ll see that Shakespeare was paying homage to attorneys and was not speaking pejoratively against them.
The person who says it (Dick the Butcher) is leading an “army of rabble” and is “a demagogue pandering to the ignorant” - and so he says his first step is to kill all the lawyers who might stand in his way of becoming a tyrant because lawyers are defenders of freedom.
So if you quote that dumb line to me, I’m going to cock punch you.
Just a random attorney writing about daily life with Little Filthy, my rotten dog.