Fun with Dave!

Well, I don't know what I would do without humor columnist Dave Barry's blog. I do know I would probably never have found this article, which would have been a shame because it's about flying cows in Texas somehow leading to police cars catching on fire. Now those are the sort of events you just don't see every day. Unless you do, in which case I really want to know where you live, because I am coming to visit. Or perhaps take up permanent residence.

My fav quote is, well, hmm, the whole article pretty much. It's fantastic.

Another reason I am grateful for Dave Barry is this page, which wins the Frogg's "This Person Has WAY Too Much Time On Their Hands" Award.

Faith an' Begorrah, But 'Tis Me Hair They've Super-Sized!

First of all, HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY! I hope you are all wearing green; if you aren't, consider yourself pinched.

Of course, being a frogg, it goes without saying that I am decked out in the mascot color of the Emerald Isle. (Also, in addition to being half-Egyptian, I am part Irish, so it's kind of a requirement and one with which I don't mind complying. I love green!)

Second of all, I want you all to know that I am having a bad hair day. The reason is this. A couple weeks ago, I bought shampoo and conditioner, from the product line called "Super Skinny" by Paul Mitchell, in case you ever want to avoid it, which, if you have my hair, you will.

What it's supposed to do is make your hair sleek and shiny and smooth. I thought that sounded like a good idea, because I think my hair looks great when I straighten it, but my hair stylist lectured me about overusing the flatiron and destroying my locks, the last time I got a haircut. So I thought, hey, maybe this shampoo/conditioner will help keep my wavy-wild hair under control; after all, it's expensive! So it must do what it's packaging implies, right?

Well. What it does in actual fact is make my hair pouf out to 80s diva proportions. And I don't even need any AquaNet! Lucky me.

In other words, "Super Skinny" made my hair fat.

I guess we can all learn a little lesson from my experience. Namely, to be profoundly grateful that Paul Mitchell doesn't make diet pills. Yikes.

Why, Jessica? Or Should I Say: Why Jessica?

Yes, the simple placement of a comma can be a beautiful thing.

Apparently Jessica Simpson opted not to appear at a Republican fund-raiser. I am at an uncharacteristic loss for words. Mostly what I keep thinking is, "They asked JESSICA SIMPSON??" I am not a Republican, but neither am I a Jessica Simpson fan, so I just don't know who to make fun of more, today. But I do have to point out my favorite part of the whole article:

"People close to Simpson said she declined a request to appear that same evening at the gala fund-raiser of the National Republican Congressional Committee -- even after she was offered some private face time with Bush -- because Operation Smile is a non-partisan group."

Private face time with Bush! Oh, it's too, too much...

Someone Tell Her To Take A Deep Breath. Please.

I haven't seen Brokeback Mountain. But after reading 70-year-old author Annie Proulx's rant against the Academy Awards for not giving the movie the Best Picture Oscar, I don't think I ever will. No, not because it's about gay cowboys, but because her attitude is so incredibly rude and ungracious.

To be honest, I couldn't even read her entire article, because it was so gaggingly bitter. Her sense of contemptuous superiority is truly nauseating, and I can tell that she and I would probably never hit it off over tea. We might end up hitting each other, though.

Now THAT might make for some interesting cinematic fare, wouldn't you say? "Fractious Frogg Faces Off with Growling Grandma." WWE, here we come!

But anyway, Proulx actually made me want to see Crash because she trashed it so badly. To borrow a line from the also-non-Academy-Award-winning film Happy Gilmore: "Talk about your all-time backfires."

And I take extreme exception to her phrase, "dim L.A. crowd." I am a part of that L.A. crowd, gosh darn it, and I'd say I am an 80-watt bulb at the very LEAST.

Finally, I have to say that for someone who doesn't think much of the Academy Awards, she sure is angry about not getting one. Geez.

Yes, Ms. Proulx. Sour grapes is EXACTLY what it is, and you left a bad taste in MY mouth. Bleah.

Lost in the Myst

The lovely Candace has been writing interesting posts lately about how programming languages kind of tell cool little stories to her when she sleeps. She doesn't quite say they whisper sweet nothings in her ear, but I still have to ask, "Does your husband know about this? Does he?!"

(Mind you, as an English major, I am pretty skeptical about storytelling program languages anyway, because even though letters of the English alphabet float around in the impenetrable cloud of code, they don't get all comradely with each other and make real WORDS. Also they look about as at ease amongst all the numbers and symbols as baby sea lions surrounded by a school of sharks. But I digress.)

Today, Candace writes:

Okay, so I've thought of a better analogy to describe programming (or at least how my subconscious deals with it when I'm asleep). It's an obvious one, really. It's Myst!

In the world of Myst, you're playing a game where doing certain concrete things (turning a dial, pushing a button, etc.) will yield certain results which will lead to your evetually winning the game. But to get to the point where you can do the concrete thing, you have to use a lot of imagination, inference, logic, and investigation (i.e., wandering around). (emphasis mine.)

In other words, then, another name for Myst could apparently be "My Life: The Video Game." Catchy title, isn't it? But I bet Myst would still sell better--after all, 30 years into "My Life" and I have yet to get to the concrete thing. For that matter, I'm not entirely sure I know what, exactly, the concrete thing is.

But I've sure done the wandering around thing...A LOT. And quite frankly, it's getting, well, just a little old. (Entirely unlike yours truly, by the way, who only gets younger and more beguiling with every passing year.)

So, my question is, does anyone know a magic shortcut to the next level? You know, one of those "press B and A at the same time and hit the directional buttons in the following order: right, right, left, down, down, up while you are standing on the bag of gold" kind of shortcuts that you only find out about by putting on 3-D glasses and reading certain pages of gaming magazines backwards. Or something.

No? Darn. Oh well, just thought I'd ask.

Things That Make You Go "Hmmm"

On the front page of cnn.com early this morning, I found these two headlines, coexisting peacefully despite fundamental semanticarian differences:

Bloody Baghdad: 86 bodies found in 30 hours

Bush: Iraq turning away from 'the abyss'

If you think these two headlines contradict each other, you only showcase your novitiate status in the realm of world politics. I feel sorry for you.

My Tummy Hurts Just THINKING About This

Now, raise your hands: how many of you out there have thought that maybe putting a burger between plain old buns is getting a little boring? How many of you have thought, "I wonder what a cheeseburger would taste like between, oh I don't know, say Krispy Kreme doughnuts?"

Wonder no more.

I've been hearing a lot in the news lately about how Americans are struggling more and more with obesity, and then I read a story like that and this and I have only one thing to say:

Duh.

But there's nothing like a good old-fashioned story about a man chopping up a dead friend and feeding him to pigs which were then sold at the meat market and eaten by unsuspecting people to really make a strong case for the health benefits of vegetarianism.

(Fav quote from the above article: "OK, it was stupid but I was broke.")