Merry Christmas To All and...

Happy Belated Hannukah to my Jewish friends. Thanks for sticking with me even though I haven't posted in a month. I've had stuff to say, but I've been really busy or tired, or both. You don't think I've got a good rant about Jamie Lynn Spears? Happy Holidays to all no matter how you choose to spend them. My first New Years resolution is to blog more in 2008.

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow...

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? I am, and it's pissing me off. I live in upstate New York. I was fine with things in general until about two days ago. Then winter arrived. A friend accused me of being a "grouch" for not enjoying this sudden turn of events. This person romanticized the winter weather, espousing the joys of making snow angels, frolicking in the snow and holding mittened hands with a loved one. That is exactly how they do it on T.V. isn't it? It does look fun in all those romantic comedies when the smitten couple builds a snowman together and then has the flirtatious snowball fight. Unfortunately, the winter the rest of us are stuck frolicking in is not in a warm studio where teamsters sprinkle dry, cottony snow on us from the rafters. The real life winter is damned cold. I'm pretty sure that if I'd ever hit one of my dates in the face with a snowball she would probably call the police on me and sex would definitely be out. At least on that date. Don't get me wrong, I may be a grouch about the cold, but I am not a Scrooge about the holidays. I love the holidays, except for.....

Unusual Things I'm Thankful For

Here it is, my annual list of unusual things I'm thankful for. Feel free to add some of your unusual thanks in your comments. I'd love to hear them.

1. Global warming. Before you and Al Gore leave a nasty comment, hear me out. Each year more people die from cold than from heat. If the globe is warmer, more people survive. Also with the polar ice caps melting we have more water available that, with a little effort and technology, can be diverted to drought stricken areas. If the globe is warmer, we in the North will be using less fossil fuels to heat our homes. The furor over global warming is just a media firestorm fad. I challenge Al Gore to a debate. Without global warming he would suddenly become irrelevant, and so he continues to stoke the fire.

2. Starbuck's I developed a Starbuck's jones this past year. And no, it's not all that expensive unless you're ordering something like a non-fat, half-caf, latte mochachino, double shot espresso. At Starbuck's you're paying for words. The more words in your order, the more it will cost. I just get a small coffee and I'm not broke yet.

3. Morning Insomnia. I have a problem. The first step is admitting it. I'm up by 5:30 every morning. I'm not sure what that is in metric or Canadian time, but it's damn early here. My brain just turns on and I'm up. Without this little problem I'd never get any writing done here or elsewhere. It's my only time of peace and quiet in the day.

4. My blogger friends. Despite all the bad publicity that MySpace and Facebook get, I've met nothing but nice people through this blog and the internet. Thank you for continuing to visit and responding to my inane thoughts.

HAVE A HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

Things To Do Before I Die

1. Learn to speak Spanish fluently.
2. Become a published author.
3. Learn to ride a unicycle.
4. Go sky diving.

What's on your list?

The People at the Gym

I belong to a gym. You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I do. My gym is part of a big, national chain. I think there must be some sort of law that was passed, undoubtedly by congress, that states that the more popular a gym is, the louder the music has to be. In fact, if you were to notice only the music and people on cell phones you'd think you were out at a club. I'll be damned if I can find someone to give my a beer though. That's why I fill my water bottle with beer before I go. There are several different people that go to a gym. I think that the smallest number belong to the group of normal people who go to the gym a few times a week just to stay in decent shape. That's the group I'm in. The next group are the what I call "The Bicep Bunch." (Just imagine the theme song, "The Bicep Bunch, the Bicep Bunch, that's the way we became the Bicep Bunch!") The Bicep Bunch has a uniform too. It consists of work boots, denim jeans and a black muscle shirt. They literally walk around the gym in groups of several guys in this identical outfit. I call them the Bicep Bunch because they're only interested in working out their upper body in hopes of impressing women. Not that impressing women is a bad goal. In fact I've dedicated my life to it. Then, there are the women at the gym. Some of them scare me. When women start doing things like wearing weight belts and bench pressing, doing pull-ups, and curls, I get a little scared about getting too close. I want no part of a pre-menstrual woman who has more muscle mass than me. That is not a safe combination. Then there are the "Three-weekers." I call them this because they probably won't use their membership for more than three weeks before they realize that exercise is hard work and they give up, never to be seen at the gym again. You can always spot one of the three-weekers because they are so clueless about exercise that they actually accept the complimentary session with the personal trainer so they can learn how to use the equipment. A group of gym members I hate are the locker room nudists. These are the people who are obviously way too comfortable with their bodies. For God's sake, put on a towel when you walk from the shower back to your locker! And do not, under any circumstances, talk to ME while you are naked. We're not that intimate! As is any other place in society these days, the gym is also full of cell phone people. I have no freakin' idea how they can even hear anyone on their cell phones over the din of the music. The only exercise these people are getting is exercising their mouths. I'm sure they can't do real exercise because they're so winded from talking. It's always a temptation to drop a big weight on these dopes.

Reading Is Fun

I just recently completed my first full-fledged attempt at a novel. If you've previously read and enjoyed my Golden Boys stories, you'll love this. I took the four characters from my Golden Boys stories and put them in a murder mystery plot, but with their same idiotic behavior. Does anyone know someone in the publishing industry or who is a literary agent? I have very little idea of how to get this thing from my hands to becoming a full-fledged on your bookstore shelves novel. Any leads you have would certainly be appreciated. Feel free to e-mail me with suggestions if you have any.

I Had A Dream...

A few days a ago I had a dream that I shaved off my goatee. Then yesterday someone said to me, "You ought to shave that off. You'd look ten years younger." Is the universe conspiring to tell me to shave off my goatee? Should I listen to it? Also, some of my long time blog friends might remember a post I did a year ago about vanity plates that was sparked by seeing a plate that said, "Dali Lama." Yesterday after I was told I should shave off my goatee I walked out of the office and into my parking lot, and what car was parked there? Yup. The Dali Lama car. Is it just me, or are those two coincidences happening that close together weird? Is the universe telling me something? Should I shave off my goatee?

"You're a Hottie"

So I was on my way to a dentist appointment. I got out of my car in the busy parking lot of a medical complex that contained several small buildings housing a variety of doctors offices. As I began to cross the lot a van slowed down and the drivers side window was descending. I assumed it was just someone stopping to ask what building a particular doctor was in. The van slowed as it approached me and I slowed my walk, preparing to give helpful directions because that's just the kind of good samaritan I am. The window rolled all the way down and I saw that the driver appeared to be a woman of about 50 maybe. I make eye contact, thinking I'm about to field a question for directions. She looks me straight in the eye and says, "You're a hottie." So I ask for her phone number and after my appointment we went to her house and made mad monkey love on the dining room floor. No! Are you kidding?!!? That was gross! She then drove off without another word. I'm not sure why, but I immediately felt queasy. I suppose this is how very young women feel when some creepy old guy hits on them. Although she is obviously an incredibly bright and perceptive woman, it still creeped me out. Normally, from someone younger I'd accept the compliment and it might put a smile on my face for the rest of the day. I definitely didn't smile as I walked away as quickly as I could. If she thought I was a hottie then though, she should have seen me after I got my teeth cleaned. Now we're talkin' hot! And no, there were not any psychiatric offices in that office complex.

GPS= Giant Pain in my asS

For my new job I do quite a bit of driving around, so I purchased a GPS device for my car. We've all see the commercials where the guy professes his love for his GPS before regaining his senses, realizing that it is just a mechanical device. That won't be my problem. I often do talk to my GPS as it's talking to me, but we're usually arguing. I even switched the voice to that of a British woman, hoping that the accent would make it seem like much less of a nag. It doesn't. Here are a few sample conversations between me and my GPS:

GPS: In two tenths of a mile turn right.............in one tenth of a mile turn right........in 200 feet turn right....
Phil: I know, I'm turning right!
GPS: Turn right
Phil: Shut up! I'm already turning. Leave me alone!

Or another example is when we disagree on directions. For instance yesterday I asked it directions to a specific restaurant and it wanted me to get on a toll road for something like a quarter mile.

GPS: Take ramp on left in 200 feet.
Phil: No. I'm not going to pay a toll just to go a half mile.
GPS: Take ramp on left
Phil: No. I'm not going to. I can see the restaurant from here.
GPS: As soon as possible make a U-turn.
Phil: No, I'm not going to go on the ramp. SHUT UP! I can see the restaurant.
GPS: Recalculating. Travel two tenths of a mile to destination on right.
Phil: See? I told you!

Perhaps my terse demeanor is why my GPS sometimes gives me wrong directions and possibly tries to get me killed. It often has no regard for my safety when it directs me through crime infested, gang run neighborhoods, or down streets that are closed for construction. I think it's out to get me. At some point I imagine myself pulling the thing off the dash and flinging it out onto the highway as I'm traveling at a very high rate of speed, laughing maniacally as it tumbles to it's tiny electronic death still babbling at me. If I'm ever stranded on a desert island I'm sure as hell not taking my GPS with me to keep me company. To quote the great philosopher, me, technology is the opiate of the asses.

More Desert Island

Yeah, I know this is a cop out, but who doesn't love to play desert island? Ok, here's the next one: Rest of your life you're stuck on a desert island with your favorite beverage and one movie. What movie do you choose and why? You can only pick one. No say, 'yeah, but I also considered this." Pick one without any qualifications.

I go with The Princess Bride. It's completely silly and funny and has a lot of those lines that are funny no matter how many times you hear them or how many times you and your friends do them back and forth with each other. If I'm stuck on a desert island I want to be able to laugh on a regular basis. Of course I'd be seriously pissed if my DVD player broke and I couldn't watch my one movie.

Green Kool-Aid

No, I'm not starting a cult. If I were stuck on a desert island and could only drink one beverage for the rest of my life, I think I would choose green Kool-Aid. Setting all health benefits aside green kool-aid may be my favorite beverage, with orange juice and Corona a close second and third. Ok, your turn. Desert island. One beverage for life, what do you choose?

Fate Tempted: Numero Dos

Ok, I'm doing it again. Flying all day. Wish me luck. Don't worry if I don't blog again today. I know I can't get wifi in the Philly airport.

I'm Alive!!!

Hey folks. My flight from home to Charlotte turned out to be the best flight I've ever had. There were first class openings, and I considered paying for the openings, but decided not to. They left the row for the exit door empty and as the flight took off the stewardess..errr...flight attendant asked me to sit in it and read the instructions for opening the door. I had and entire row to myself! It was better than first class. It was like having a king sized bed to myself. I reclined and stretched out. Put my stuff on the seats on either side of me. I was totally livin large. I didn't blog later because there was no wifi I could get in Charlotte and then when I got here in Cancun there is a ridiculously high charge for use of the internet. Also, Blogger is in Espanol here! Fortunately I know blogger well enough that I don't need to understand the tabs. For those of you that worried about my well being after the last post, thank you. I have another story about my roommate after I got here, but I'll blog that later. I've got to go to breakfast.

Fate? Meet Temptation

Some of my long time blog friends know my position on death. I'm not a fan. In fact, I don't really believe in it at all. At least for myself. I have long been of the belief that if an opportunity to be dead presents itself to me I will just flat out refuse to do it. I believe that by sheer will I just won't die regardless of disease, accident, or age. But now I have a bit of a quandry.

I recently started a job that requires me to fly places occasionally. I've rarely flown in my life, and now it appears I will be doing so at least a few times a year. Back to my beliefs about death. Like I said, I don't believe that I will die, but unfortunately I'm not able to be completely delusional in this regard. The flying is a problem because as immortal as I'd like to believe I am, I think that if I were to drop from 35,000 feet in the air I would hit the ground as hard as anyone else. Maybe a little harder, because after all, I'm Phil.

So, here I sit in the airport as I type this, preparing to board my flight. My goal is to blog at the next airport in about 3 hours and then upon my arrival at my final destination. (yes, the choice of the phrase 'final destination' was not a coincidence) If you see no further posts after this, then you and I will know that it's definitely not a good idea to tempt fate like this. Or at least not a good idea to blog about fate. I hope the Charlotte airport has wifi access and I hope Fate has a sense of humor...

Hi. My Name is Phil and...

I'm a cell phone person. They say the first step is admitting it. My long time blog friends who have read my ongoing series of rants against "cell phone people" will appreciate the irony here. For those of you new to the show, I have long railed against the idiocy of "cell phone people." Those inconsiderate morons who speak loudly and indiscretely into their cell phones no matter where they are. Those people who think they're so important they need the Bluetooth affixed to their head 24/7. Those people who have tendinitis in their thumbs from texting. The ring tone losers who are constantly asking you to listen to their new ring tone which they update every two days. All these people deserve their own special level in hell. That has been my position on cell phones in a nutshell.

Fast forward to now. I just started a new job. They issued me a cell phone which I must have on from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm every work day. So because of this, I broke down and bought a holster for my work phone so it didn't look like I have a tumor in my pocket, or something else. I will also have to drive around quite a bit for my new job, so I bought one of those ear pieces so I can talk on the phone while driving. So now, I spend every day walking around with two cell phones and a PDA on me and I have that stupid earpiece in whenever I'm in my car. I feel ridiculous. I don't think the astronauts have this much technology on them when they go for a spacewalk. Also because I drive around a lot I bought a GPS device for directions. I'm sure I'm getting some sort of tumors already from all the radio signals and beams of electricity criss-crossing my body. I love the new job, but I hate being a cell phone person.

Mental Dental Hygiene

Ok, because of my new job I had to spend the last two weeks of August staying in a hotel in Richmond, VA with a roommate. I lucked out. My roommate was a very nice guy. In fact, he was a great roommate. No bad habits except for snoring, but he couldn't control that. In fact he was a very neat, clean person. Not a slob at all even though we were living in a hotel room. After a couple days sharing a room with this guy I notice that a box of dental floss has fallen on the floor behind the toilet. It's not my dental floss, but I'm not sure if it's his, so I leave it there for him and the housekeeping staff to sort out. Also, who wants to touch something that's on the floor behind the toilet in a hotel?

A day passes and the floss is still laying there behind the toilet. Another day, still there. Another day and another day and still no one has picked up the dental floss. Don't worry, I'm not tempted to either. Finally after about five days I see that my roommate has picked up the dental floss and placed it among his other toiletries on the sink where it remained for the rest of our two weeks. Am I wrong, or is it completely disgusting to use floss from a box that has laid on the floor behind a toilet for several days? You might as well dip your floss in the urine filled toilet and use it as far as I'm concerned. Who here would have used it?

Who Let The Dogs Out?

So I get sent to Richmond, Virginia for a two week training to prepare me for my new job. I've been here since the 19th. This morning I walked out of my hotel room and right into the middle of biggest news story of the day. I went down to the second floor where we have breakfast and start our training at 8 a.m. As I get down there another employee says, "Did you hear the rumor that Michael Vick is staying here? It's probably just an urban myth." I agreed, although I'm in a fairly nice hotel only three blocks from the Richmond courthouse.

At 9:30 I during a break in training I went up to my room to get something. As I camme out of my room an older gentleman in a suit exited the elevator in front of me and opened the door of the room next to mine. As he did so I heard the voice of an African-American man before the door closed. I went downstairs only to return a few minutes later after the wheels in my head started to turn. As I returned three men in suits exited the room next to mine and headed towards the elevator and I overheard one say, "Court should take about an hour." After this I observe a hotel employee talking on a walkie-talkie, using the phrase "Room____ is a VIP room for today." Now the light bulb went on over my head! I went downstairs and went back to my training.

About two hours later we got another break and as I exited the conference room a steady stream of men with cameras and microphones began to stream past towards the conference room across the hall from mine. So I got into the line. It was the Michael Vick press conference. As I walked to the line filing into the press conference I passed George Thorogood, the singer, talking to one of my co-workers. He was as curious as the rest of us. In addition to the press, spectators began to file into the hotel lobby. Some had religious shirts encouraging Michael Vick to repent. A family with young children came in carrying signs saying "We Love you" A co-worker of mine began to almost shout at the children, "You love him? How can you say that? He hung dogs!"

So me, Michael Vick, George Thorogood, and hordes of media were all here today. Needless to say, I had to answer a lot of questions about my blog.

An Unusual Post From Me

This post is unusual because I don't really have anything to say, but I just felt like rambling. I may be posting more often (hey, this is the third time in a month). I recently started a great new job and I'm in Richmond, VA for two weeks of training right now. The new job has markedly improved my mood and that might result in a little more regular posting, but I don't know if I'll ever be back to how I was before I tailed off about 6 months ago. Oh sure, I'll still make fun of stuff, but I don't know if I'll put the time and effort into my posts that I used to. Anyway, I just want to thank all of you that still stop by even when I post infrequently. Your comments always make me laugh my ass off.

Keep Your Feet on the Ground

Ok, it's official. I'm tired of hearing about how the Space Shuttle has a nick in it and everyone's concerned that it will explode upon re-entry. Yes, of course I'm concerned for the safety of the astronauts up there, but...the stress on them and everyone else could be prevented.

Let's say you have a car that you drive to and from work every day. If there was a chance that every time a little stone nicked it on your way to work your car might explode on your way home, wouldn't you get a new car? Also, if the outside of your car was made of some material that was injured by foam or ice, wouldn't you decide to have your next car made of a much more sturdy material?

The bottom line is that NASA needs to make some new shuttles. Then again, why the hell do we even need to be in outerspace? What can we possibly learn up there that is of use here? Sure, it's kind of cool to go to the moon and the space station, but really, can anyone think of anything that is useful in our daily lives that has resulted from a trip to outerspace? Essentialy NASA is a bunch of guys who like cool gadgets and are probably sitting around their offices saying, "Man, can you believe the goverment keeps giving us money? Sure, we brought back some cool rocks and pictures, but I do that every time I go to the beach too. I can't believe they didn't shut us down years ago!"

The Clown Whisperer

Yesterday started out normally enough and then I saw the first clown. Yes, I said the first clown. There is no circus in town. There was no parade yesterday. But there he was, in front of the guitar store waiting for a ride. He sat on the bench and carefully arranged his clown suitcase and his other clown accoutrements in front of him as he waited. I became self-conscious that he might notice me staring even though I was watching him in my rear view mirror. He appeared to look in my direction, right at my rear view mirror and into my soul. A chill crept across my heart. I looked down for a moment, fearful that he was returning my gaze and I'd suddenly be mesmerized by his piercing stare. Then when I looked up again he was gone. It was so sudden that I wasn't certain he'd ever been there. There was no car pulling away. No trail of endless brightly colored handkerchiefs as he walked away. Just nothing. He was...gone.

Later in the day I was driving home from running some errands and as I stopped at a traffic light I looked at the car turning left, crossing the intersection in front of me. What I saw looking back at me was unbelieveable. Two clowns in a car. Yep, only two. But they were clowns in full makeup looking at me as they passed. "WTF," I thought. And then they were gone, just like the other one.

Why? Why are all these clowns showing up? What is the meaning? Why are they following me? As far as omens go, this can't be a good one. Randomly seeing three clowns in one day with no circus or parade going on? That is effing weird.

Speaking of seeing clowns, I'm going to see a couple tonight as I head to Syracuse for my annual get together with The Golden Boys.

Hillary Clinton Is In Town Today

Yes, that's right. If you're keeping score at home, that's the second Clinton sighting in my town in the past three weeks. I think she's got a thing for me, but it may be time for a restraining order. Too bad it's not Condoleeza Rice. Now there's a piece of political eye candy. Anyway, I'd like to give a big shout out to my friends at the F.B.I., Secret Service, and Homeland Security Dept. who I know are checking the internet and blogs for any possible mention of a threat to Hillary. Just so you guys know, I'm going to be in Penfield today and won't be at my regular work location. Feel free to stop by the house though, I left the A/C on for you. I didn't leave a key. I know you know how to get in.

Strange But True

I just read this from a reputable news source: The father of JonBenet Ramsey is dating the mother of Natalee Holloway. Yes, that's right. I'm not kidding for a change. Here is what my reaction sounds like in my head: "What?!!? Are you freakin' kidding me? I'm not sure why, but this seems incredibly wrong and twisted in some way that I can't define. What the hell is wrong with these two people? They're not even from the same neighborhood! How do they hook up? It's not like they ran into each other at the P.T.A. meeting. They had to go looking for each other. Did they find each other through E-harmony? Was personality variable number 29, "Was your child kidnapped or killed?" Is it just me, or does anyone, everyone else find this to be possibly the most bizarre thing maybe ever?

Janie's Got A Gun

Ok, it wasn't Janie, but it was a strange man who walked right through the front yard of my cottage carrying a rifle. Yup, calm as you please he walked right by my window with a gun while I was eating dinner. I thought he might be the guy from two cottages down, but I wasn't sure. He and his companion were headed that way. So of course I put down my fork (I should have kept it, at least I'd have had some kind of weapon) and did I do what any right thinking person with common sense would do? Did I call the police to report that there was a man with a gun walking around? No, of course not. If I did that I wouldn't be me! I put down my fork and walked right out my door to follow him and ask what he was doing walking around brandishing a weapon when I have children that play outside here.

So I caught up to him and confronted him with exactly that question. Needless to say, I felt naked without my fork.

For Those of You Keeping Score...

Former President Bill Clinton is in my town today, and you know what that means! Yup, the Secret Service and F.B.I. will again be checking in on their favorite blogger.

"Where have you been? What were you doing?"

In a recent comment someone posed this question to me. While I was almost completely gone for three months, what was I doing? The one fellow blogger who was kind enough to e-mail to ask about my whereabouts, (yes, my one eyebrow is raised at the rest of you) hoped that I had been kidnapped by pirates because “pirates are cool.” Were it so simple as being kidnapped by the Dread Pirate Roberts I’d certainly be much happier with the events of the past 4 months and their effect upon my psyche. In a recent comment another blogger wondered if I’d actually been undercover as a spy. The truth itself lies somewhere in between those two possibilities and a little to the left. I’ve wrestled with my conscience about whether to tell the tale and what consequences the telling might have. Consequences that might affect me and several others. Being a writer, or at least dreaming that I might someday be one, I can’t resist the urge to tell a story that I hardly believe myself. As they used to say in the introduction to the old Dragnet show, (which I only watched in syndication as a very young child because I’m definitely not old enough to have seen the first time around) the story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. I will also blur some of the details a bit to protect, as they say, my own ass.

Cell Phone People Part VIII: The Ringtone People

As many of my longtime friends here know, cell phone people irritate me. Well, irritate might not be the right word. Inspire murderous rage perhaps? Fuel an anger that burns with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns? I’m not sure what the exact measurement of my annoyance with them might be, but it’s definitely not good. For those of you new to the program, I don’t hate everyone who uses a cell phone. Only those who use them as if they and their cell phone are Siamese twins that weren’t separated at birth.

During the hiatus when I was gone, I purchased a new cell phone solely to change carriers. My new phone however, is a huge upgrade over my old phone and has all sorts of bells and whistles. It wasn’t too expensive and it looked cool, which is my primary criteria for choosing a phone, or anything for that matter. It also has the option of storing roughly one billion different ringtones. Like I’ve maintained all along, I have a cell phone, but I’m not a cell phone person.

A subset of cell phone people is the ringtone people. These people love their ringtones and they always want you to know when they have a new one. “Hey, wanna hear my new ringtone?” Usually this question sends me running from the room desperate to save the 30 seconds of my life these dolts are trying to steal by making me listen to The Thong Song. The Ringtone People change their ringtone about once a week, so over the course of a year they could steal 26 minutes of your life by making you listen to their new ringtones. Oh and I just love their bikini babe or Justin Timberlake wallpaper.

I think the ringtone should be a personality quiz somewhere, and it probably is on one of those sites that supply quizzes for bloggers. The quiz should go like this:

1) Have you purchased more than two ringtones for your phone?
A) Yes
B) No

If you answered no, you have a life and your priorities are in order. If you answered yes, how could you possibly have time to take this quiz? Your carrier is adding new ringtones at this very minute and you’re missing them! Oh, and you’re a loser.

The ringtone people also have taken the time to assign a different ringtone to all 30 people saved in their phone. I sure as hell hope that when e-harmony is asking the questions that determine your 29 personality variables “Do you have more ringtones than brain cells?” is one of the questions. These people definitely need to be paired up with each other instead of letting them wander aimlessly asking the rest of us, “Wanna hear my new ringtone?” Then again, if you pair them up they might start to breed, and we definitely don’t want to see that happening.

I have to confess, I did purchase one ringtone for my new phone. It’s the theme song for Monday Night Football. It never fails to make me smile when I hear it. What’s your ringtone du jour?

It's India's Turn

Hey Canada, guess what? You get the week off. I'm going to make fun of India. Earlier this week an Indian court issued an arrest warrant for Richard Gere because he kissed Indian actress Shilpa Shetty at an AIDS Awareness event in Jaipur,India. The entire country was seriously outraged. They were burning Richard Gere effigies in the street over this! After several lawyers filed complaints in an Indian court a judge watched the videotape of the kiss, retired to his chambers alone for about 10 minutes, and then, appearing slightly sweaty and disheveled, returned to the court, demanded that he keep the copy of the tape and issued the order for Richard Gere's arrest. Apparently under Indian law they deemed Richard Gere's kiss of their actress "obscene." I saw the video. I don't even think there was tongue. Maybe they thought it was obscene that a 58 year old was kissing a pretty, young actress. I can see that, but then again, this is a country where marriages are still arranged.

I've got a few very good Indian friends, so I have nothing against the Indian people. I love their food, but maybe laws like this are why they moved to America, land of the free and home of kisssing Richard Gere. That's right, if I want to kiss Richard Gere right on the mouth in front of the whole world I'll do it and there isn't a court in the land that can stop me. And c'mon, he was burned in effigy. How cool is that? If I ever do anything that causes me to be burned in effigy I will be very happy. And I don't mean burned in effigy when an ex-girlfriend puts my picture in the garbage and sets it on fire. I want the full-on hanging in the public square, chanting crowds, riot police burning effigy. If I can do something that causes that, then I know I'll have really made something of my life. I think I may have to plan a vacation to India. Mother Theresa, here I come! I know she's dead, but I may kiss her on the mouth too. That should get me an awesome effigy.

Yoga Booty Ballet

Yes, it's a real fitness workout DVD. How can you not love the name? I laugh just reading, saying, or thinking the name. No jokes needed. Yoga Booty Ballet says it all. I'm not big into the performing arts. I've never attended an opera or ballet, but I think I definitely would not miss the Yoga Booty Ballet if it came to my city. In fact I think I might join the Yoga Booty Ballet.

I'll Be Back Soon

I'm still alive and I'm about two weeks away from reviving this blog if anyone is still stopping by to check my pulse. Hope you're all doing well. See you soon.

Borat's Got A Gun

That was the phrase whispered in my ear at the party I attended Saturday night. "Borat's got a gun." Sure enough, the birthday boy who resembled Borat was waving a gun around. The more horrifying part of the party was when I discovered that I'd accidentally eaten about 6 pieces of artichoke. It was in a dish called Artichokes French. They look like fried pieces of chicken and were in a lemony sauce. I'll eat anything breaded and fried. Artichokes and Borat with a gun. Fortunately neither ended up killing me.

Some Phil News

Yes, I'm still alive, but really busy. Until early May I may be posting inconsistently or recycling some classic posts. I'm sorry if that messes up anyone's vacation plans. By the way, I just bought a refrigerator yesterday that's easily big enough to put a body in if I remove the shelves. I'm just saying.

Brangelina is/are Moving!

First of all, would it be Brangelina IS moving or Brangelina ARE moving? Is a Brangelina a single entity or a pair of people? Secondly, why did I just click “add to dictionary” when my spell checker didn’t recognize Brangelina?

Yes, I couldn’t believe the headline when I read it. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie have moved to New Orleans. What’s the matter, did they run out of kids to adopt where they were living? Between them and Madonna invading countries and adopting children willy nilly I wouldn’t be surprised to answer my door tomorrow and find Brangelina waiting to take me into their custody. At the rate they’re going we’re all going to get a turn eventually. In 1970 pop culture artist Andy Warhol said, “In the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.” I’d like to make a similar prediction: In the future everyone will be adopted by Brangelina for 15 minutes.

As if the devastation of Hurricane Katrina hadn’t ravaged New Orleans enough, now the residents have to deal with the horde of pop culture paparazzi swooping down on New Orleans like a swarm of locusts. Not to mention every parents terrifying fear that Brangelina will pull up in a limo and adopt their child as he or she walks to school.

Cell Phone People: Part VII

For those of you who haven’t followed my rise to fame from the beginning, Cell Phone People is an ongoing series of posts much like The Guy Code of Conduct. As I have pointed out before, almost all of us who have evolved from the primordial ooze and learned to walk upright have learned to use tools. First, prehistoric man learned to use sticks and tree limbs as crude levers to move heavy objects. The discovery of fire and the invention of the wheel followed soon after. The cell phone is a tool of modern man. Some people use it appropriately as a tool while others use their cell phone as if the call button is the control for a morphine drip. It is these people upon whom I wish terrible things.

Last spring one of Saddam Hussein’s henchmen was blown up because the U.S. Army used GPS technology to track his cell phone signals and then aimed a missile at the exact location of his cell phone. I wonder if he was talking on it at the time or if it was in his pocket. Ouch! Then during 2005 there was the Cell Phone Bandit who robbed several banks as she walked up to a teller while talking on her cell phone. All of this backs up my premise that chronic cell phone user=evil.

Here is an excerpt from today of an Associated Press report out of Vellejo, California: “Firefighters arrived at the residential hotel Saturday night to find Picaso lying on the bathroom floor after a malfunctioning cell phone in his pants pocket set fire to his nylon and polyester clothes, Henke said.”

I’m not saying Picaso is evil, but he did have a cell phone on his person. Where’s my cell phone? In the glove compartment of my car. If I need it I’ll open it up and turn it on. Apparently if you carry them on you they just might decide to kill you all on their own. Or perhaps Picaso was hit by a tiny missile from the U.S. Army. There are two important lessons to be learned from this tragic situation: 1) Don’t carry your cell phone constantly, and 2) nylon and polyester clothes are a bad fashion statement in more ways than one.

“Technology is the opiate of the asses”- Phil, circa June 2006

The Table by the ATM

I hate the people at the table by the ATM. I have never been one of the people at the table by the ATM, but that is not why I hate them. I choose not to be one of the people at the table by the ATM. The people at the table by the ATM have a choice and for some inexplicable reason they choose to sit at the table by the ATM. I believe that the people at the table by the ATM are inconsiderate, ill-mannered, and quite possibly mentally defective. The possibility that they perhaps sustained a traumatic brain injury which significantly impairs their ability to use logic and reason is the only thing that keeps me from lashing out violently at the people at the table by the ATM. If, however, I ever discover that the people at the table by the ATM are of sound mind, then all bets are off.

What is wrong with sitting at the table by the ATM you ask? I’ll tell you: personal space. The table by the ATM does not allow for the standard three feet separation that is an accepted rule the world over. The table by the ATM is far too close to the ATM. It is wedged into a small space between the stairs and a hallway entrance. The people at the table by the ATM are either directly under your left elbow as you use the machine, allowing you to breath down the back of their neck and/or onto their food, or if they at least choose the opposite side of the table they are staring directly at the screen and keypad as you punch your code in. I generally am uncomfortable sitting this close to strangers unless our plane has gone down in the Andes Mountains and we’re huddling together to survive. Eventually I would eat these strangers if I had to, so being close to your food isn’t a bad idea in that situation. I don’t want them get away. I don’t want to eat the people at the table by the ATM. Why would I? I just got $10 out and there’s a cart serving mini-pizzas about 20 feet away.

I have never sat at the table by the ATM, but I do use the ATM in question quite frequently because it is the only one in my building. The ATM is located in an open area that includes a cart that sells coffee, bagels, sandwiches, and mini-pizzas. There are also many tables spread throughout the open atrium area. You would think that due to its location the table by the ATM would be the last one to be used. If you think that, you would be egregiously wrong. As if it is a magnet for the socially challenged the table by the ATM seems to attract people. Often people with very questionable hygienic skills. As I approach the ATM, observing the multitude of empty tables nearby there are always people at the table by the ATM. It takes all of my considerable personal willpower to resist screaming, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!!? WHY DO YOU WANT TO SIT SO FREAKING CLOSE TO THE ATM WHEN YOU’RE NOT EVEN USING IT?!!?” In my mind I imagine myself overturning their table as I scream this.

One day if I arrive at the ATM and there is no one at all at the table by the ATM and no one else is in the atrium area I will move the table by the ATM. That’s just how I roll. If you were curious, I used the phrase “table by the ATM” 18 times.

Oh Canada! I'm Lovin' It!

Yes, this is another in my ongoing series of posts professing my admiration for the great country I lovingly refer to as my friendly neighbor to the north. In fact, of all the countries that share a land border with the United States, Canada is definitely one of my top two favorites.

I am, however, writing this post to alert all of you to an outrageous situation that could possibly lead to an international conflict between our two peaceful countries. Yes, admittedly the blasphemous act has been perpetrated by an agent of the capitalistic United States corporate aristocracy. It is an act of such blatant prejudice against our poutine loving friends that I have been unable to sleep since discovering it.

It began yesterday when, on a rare occasion, I happened to visit that bastion of American culinary excellence, McDonald's. Upon arriving I was guided to the appropriate line by the maitre d. After receiving my delicious and healthy meal I glanced down at the receipt which had been placed face down on my tray by the pleasant and hickey laden serving wench. On the back was an advertisement inviting me to participate in an online survey for the chance to win lavish McDonald's prizes. Here I will quote you verbatim what I read that upset me so much: "Open only to legal residents of the U.S. and Canada (other than the Province of Quebec), 15 years of age and older. In order to win, a Canadian resident must answer a skill testing question." Yes, that's correct. If a Canadian wants to win a free Big Mac they need to answer a skill question while us regular Americans don't have to do anything but fill out the survey!

I took the survey giving my information as both an American and a Canadian (I used the University of Guelph's phone number), but couldn't find the skills question. What could McDonald's have against Canadians? And what possible question could they ask to determine if a Canadian is worthy of a coupon for a free Big Mac? I certainly hope that this horrific slight doesn't spark a war between the U.S. and Canada. Who knows what kind of atrocities of war those red-suited Mounties might commit against us. I imagine that their pent up fury over those uniforms would make them one hellacious fighting force. I wonder if they can sneak their horses throough customs at the border? Damn, first Iraq and now this. I think we'd better send Condoleeza Rice up there to make amends. Maybe she can convince Canadian McDonald's to give a free supersize to every Canuck to smooth things over.

The Guy Code of Conduct: Chapter 6: The Female Pop Quiz

In millions of every day situations men are being tested and graded as if we are still in school. The Female Pop Quiz can consist of one question, several questions, or a situation. The results of these spontaneous daily exams can make or break a young relationship, or just make your life difficult for a day, a week, or even more in a long term relationship or marriage. The trick is, if you pass the quiz you never know it and if you fail it you find out immediately. Sometimes men are smart enough to recognize when these pop quizzes have come up and at other times we are not. It is these time where potential disaster looms. Here for the are some of the most common Female Pop Quizzes and how to answer them correctly.

1. Does this make me look fat? This is the most common and stereotypical of the pop quiz questions and almost all men recognize it, but some still answer incorrectly. An answer of "No baby, that doesn't make you look fat. I love your curves," seems well intentioned and some men even accentuate the statement with a playful pat on the behind. This answer is a mistake. The inevitable answer from the woman will be, "What? I have curves?!!? So your saying I'm fat?" A safe answer would be, "Honey, nothing could ever make you look fat. You are the sexiest woman I've ever met. If anything that outfit makes you look too thin."

2. After a woman has cooked a wonderful meal from scratch the male impulse is to just dig in and enjoy. As men we think that the act of eating every scrap and then licking the plate clean is enough of an indication of our love of the food. That gentlemen is absolutely the wrong assumption. This situation is a Female Pop Quiz. If you are not yet married and a woman cooks you a meal, she is essentially testing you to see how you might possibly respond to your evening dinner every night for the rest of your lives. If you want anything long term with this woman you will not just dig and then finish with an appreciative belch. After asking if there is anything you can do to help, such as set the table, the appropriate response is to first comment on how delicious everything looks and smells. Then after your first bite fake a complete mouthgasm as if you had just eaten food blessed by the gods. Even if she just gave you three day old dry toast this is the proper response. A corollary to this rule is that if a woman has cooked not only for you, but for company, you must absolutely be the first person to compliment her cooking in front of everyone.

3. The "Comment on Other Women" pop quiz. This is always a complicated situation that requires some expert verbal maneuvering to extricate yourself from without pain. If your female companion spots another woman on television or when you're out in public and makes a comment on that woman you are immediately on the hot seat. If your gal knows and dislikes the other woman due to a personal conflict no matter how far in the distant past it is in your best interest to listen attentively to her complaint, and then agree, even if you've just realized that your gal pal is completely wrong in the situation. If the situation is on the looks or behavior of a stranger then you have a bit more leeway. If your companion comments upon another woman's looks or attire be very careful. This is a very dangerous trap. Needless to say though if it's about large fake boobs, we all hate them right? Practice saying it in front of the mirror with a straight face at least a few times a day until you've got it down pat. Now if your girlfriend, fiance', or wife makes a negative comment about a woman, it may be in your best interest to give a fairly ambiguous answer, or even an "oh, she doesn't seem that bad," response. If you come off as too catty yourself, or too prone to degrade another woman, even in a private conversation this will reflect badly on her perception of your respect for women.

Obviously this chapter contains more material, but if I give away all of it the delicate balance of male-female communication may be forever altered. Stay tuned for Chapter 7: What To Say about Mothers.

My New Years Resolutions: Karma Chameleon

I went back to my archives for the last week of December 2005 and reviewed the New Years' Resolutions I posted last year. I was successful on every single one. So, without further ado, here are some things you can count on happening in 2007:

1. I resolve not to make New Years resolutions. I had started a funny post of my resolutions with the paragraph above and some other stuff, but when I got up on New Years day karma told me not to write it or post it, so this is all I've got. I'll get back to you as soon as karma tells me it's OK. Don't worry, probably tomorrow or the next day.