suavely deranged

Finally, NBA All Star Weekend is upon us. Next year's game is in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada, so start saving your pennies now. Me? It's a good thing I don't date, because money I'd waste on some woman that I'll be way too nice to and get nofuckingwhere with can be more productively spent on hookers and crack and bribing the door folk at Rain-in-the-Desert or ghostbar, sos I can jump the line and meet me a Hilton or some other young Hollywood starlet or heiress. Then, perhaps I can have my own 15 minutes courtesy the National Enquirer.

And a Happy Birthday to #23, Michael Jordan. After all the memories and joy he's provided us over the years, it's the least I can do.

 

And just when I'd thought that Ruben Studdard was, you know, off the grid, Dead, even; he showed up on last night's episode of Eve. I don't know if you've noticed or not, but I think he has a little bit of a weight problem. Tick tick tick, it's gotta be close to 15 minutes now. At least I hope so.

 

Here's wishing My Sister Michelle and her guy, Lee, a safe trip to Fort MacMurray today.

 

In case any of y'all were wondering: yes, I pretty much just throw shit at my screen as it comes to me. If it sticks, Cool. If not, who gives a fuck? Nothing ventured and all the rest of it.

 

I wasn't going to do this one (glance at CNN or your newspaper), but since my traffic was so weak yesterday; although my Google AdSense numbers were tolerable (which is the important thing, much obliged), here it is: Song of the Day: Fleetwood Mac- Landslide (Live). Just because I'm in that kind of mood this Frozen a.m. Yes, that's right kiddies, today's the day I take on my new MP3 player and attempt to shake some songs into the fucking thing.

You say poor taste, I say acquired taste, let's call the whole thing off.

 

And when it comes to you...I know I said I Do, but I don't. No I don't.

Actually, if memory serves, I said I will. But, apparently, I won't.

 

Today's Turin/Torino (because I don't care enough to determine which is the correct name) Olympics update: Sandis Ozolinsh scored a goal. 3 points in 2 games. Sadly, the Latvian squad lost. What? The Ukraine isn't represented this year, so I've chosen a new hometown squad to root for.

Congratulations to the mighty Swiss men's hockey squad on their upset of Jaromir Jagr and the New York Rangers, oops, I mean the Czech Republic; yesterday.

My beloved USA is off the schneid. First Kazakhstan (hey, they have an NHL-calibre goalie, if Nothing else), next the world.

A biathlete was Stripped of her medal. Does that mean they found out she was actually straight? Sorry, it's early, best I had this morning. Besides, lesbians=traffic, and I'm kinda greedy that way.

 

It seems that the Toronto Raptors have offered rebounding machine Dennis Rodman a tryout. It's about time that someone did, the NBA's starting to become almost as colorful (ie. not at all) as the NFL. Every league needs some characters, folks that when you hear their name, your fave story about them immediately comes to mind. Mine? I'ma go with his trysts with Madonna. I'm always up for a good Madonna's such a freak-type story.

 

A brief postscript to Wednesday's list: the lovely and talented Erica Durance (of the WB's Smallville) appears topless (nice little breastesses, too) in the otherwise forgettable House of the Dead. I discovered this yesterday whilst searching out next week's lists, and I thought y'all should know. You'd do the same for me.

 

On the freakish coincidence tip: my moms also broke a tooth recently, a mere day and a half before I did so. She, however, ain't afraid of the dentist and has already Gone. I'm visiting my children's-type dentist (I get a balloon! Yay, me!) tomorrow morning. Sure, I'm a fairly self-sufficient fella, but even I can't do my own dental work. Stitches, sure. Fillings, not so much. Don't ask, you really don't want to know anymore than that.

Okay, this next part's a little embarrassing:

Click on some ads and use the search bar, y'all, I totally need the front money (my dental coverage requires me to pay that way and get reimbursed after) for some (better living through) dentistry. Nitrous (mmmmm...nitrous) oxide ain't free. Just think of me as a worthwhile charity with a telethon wherefore you can contribute without actually having to expend your own coin. Nope, I Ain't Too Proud to Beg; it's for fucking extra NITROUS, man. Love love LOVE me some nitrous. But who doesn't? Well, that, and I'ma need some help putting my dentist's children through college. Plus, again, I'm saving up for next year's NBA All Star Game in Las Vegas. And my Xanax prescription has run its course.

 

The list:

 

1) Joan Vollmer (former common-law wife of William S. Burroughs. her William Tell-style accidental shooting Death at his hands provided the impetus to inspire him to become a writer. Stand By Your Man, indeed.)

 

2) Joan Didion (her anthology, The White Album, is a must-read; simply because she was present at some of the actual recording sessions of The Doors. today's color is ennvious green.)

 

3) Joan Osborne (being as how I'm almost constantly beating my one joke to a senseless/cruel Death, I find that I've developed a certain affinity for One Hit Wonders. time, space, and lack of interest preclude me from entering into a discussion of the philosophical implications of whether or not god (or whoever) is, in fact, One of Us.)

 

4) Joan Severance (2 reasons: Naked in Playboy once upon a time, and appeared in the timeless classic Hulk Hogan vehicle No Holds Barred. has also guested on One Tree Hill.)

 

5) Joan Cusack (a very very funny woman, and I kinda find her quirkiness somewhat endearing. especially in Grosse Pointe Blank, when she thinks her hitman boss (brother John) is going to smoke her. time permitting, I may just watch that again today.)

 

Enjoy your long weekend, everybody. Watch the Olympics. Do some online gambling. Download some porn. Ponder the mystery of why Nick and Jessica Simpson didn't work out (I could've sworn that one would last). Whatever. Take care.