SIDE SALAD - Everything crunchy is good.

HOLIDAY FUN

While you're waiting for New Year's Eve photos, feast your eyes on Side Salad's Christmas/Hanukkah 2006 photo gallery.

You won't be disappointed.

STAY TUNED

PHHHHHH.
PHHHHHH.
IS THIS THING ON?

Sorry for the blackout in the Salad Bowl, folks. Been having problems with my site host.

All is well now. Allegedly.

Stay tuned for new stuff...

OH, THAT'S SO COOL

Cool phenomenon I didn't read in the media after the latest Space Shuttle launch:

KENNEDY SPACE CENTER, FLA. -- Floating in the Atlantic Ocean about 150 miles north east of Cape Canaveral are the right and left solid rocket boosters, which were jettisoned from the Space Shuttle Discovery two and a half minutes into the ascent to orbit on Dec. 9. Though the boosters landed in the ocean miles from each other, overnight wind and ocean currents allowed the left booster, which was floating higher in the water, to migrate to the location of the right booster. The SRB retrieval team monitored the boosters through the night, and confirmed that the boosters did not contact each other.

TAMPANIA: CATCH IT!

Got a letter from Willie Drye, author of Storm of the Century: The Labor Day Hurricane of 1935. Apparently this story got his attention:

Racy photos cost Miss Nevada USA her crown

Shots of Katie Rees kissing other women, exposing breast posted on Web

NEW YORK - Miss Nevada USA was stripped of her title Thursday after racy photos of her appeared on the Internet, pageant officials said.

Some of the photos show Katie Rees, 22, kissing other young women, exposing one of her breasts and pulling down her pants to show her thong underwear at a party in Tampa, Fla.

I'll hand it to Willie; his radar is always on the lookout for stories with the words "kissing young women," "breasts," "pulling down her pants," and "thong underwear."

That story inspired this e-mail:

From: Willie Drye
Sent: Friday, December 22, 2006 9:38 AM
To: Houck, Jeff B.
Subject: Tampa nightlife

Hey Jeff:

Apparently you-all in Tampa know how to have fun.
Not long ago, Tampa was in the news for being among the nation's top beer drinking cities. A fondness for brewskis is always an indication of a fun-loving nature.
Now I learn that, in addition to knowing how to hoist a cold one, Tampans know how to throw down their inhibitions and laissez les bons temps rouler, as they'd say in New Orleans, that other fun-loving city at the opposite end of the Gulf of Mexico. Seems that Tampa's atmosphere of party-hearty got the best of Miss Nevada USA, who got caught on camera during a few indelicate moments during a party in Tampa.
What is it with you guys?

To which I replied:

Dear Willie, You don’t think someone like Alan Snel lives here for the cycling, do you?

When people from Sin City come to Cigar City to party, you know we’ve made a serious contribution to the Soddom and Gommorah Index.

Jeff

Perhaps there's a psychological condition that makes gorgeous women and Carolina Panthers cheerleaders lose their freaking minds and become, dare I say, Tampaniacs?

For those who care, here is a link to the photos that cost her her crown. Prepare yourself; they look like outtakes from "Girls Gone Wild."

Are people in the digital age really this stupid?

YO

Went to see "Rocky Balboa" in Brandon tonight at the 8:15 p.m. showing with Salad Boy and Salad Wife.

Talk about a flashback. I was about Salad Boy's age when I saw the first "Rocky" movie. I've shown him the others over the years, up through "Rocky IV." It's hard for him to understand the resonance the early film had when you have Mr. T and his rubber head bobbing around in "Rocky III."

But things appear to be different this time around, perhaps because this film is more introspective and warm-hearted like the original.

First of all, people are yelling and screaming and clapping during the movie, just like they did for the first "Rocky" movies. And not just people my age who grew up with the series.

A teenage kid walked in before the film and yelled, “Yo, Rocko!” Dozens of people screamed back, including lots of young girls.

After the movie, a group of about a dozen high-school boys stood outside talking about the movie. One had a "Rocky" T-shirt on under his plaid shirt. They looked like cool kids. Clean cut. Handsome suburban boys.

Then as we were walking to the car, a blinged-out white Chevy Blazer with spinner rims filled with young black guys was driving by playing “Eye of the Tiger.” A guy walking in front of us had drawn “Italian Stallion” on the back of his white T-shirt.

An uncle wearing a Titleist golf cap, a print T-shirt and cargo shorts stood outside the theater’s bathroom with his nephew waiting for their brother/father.

"Had you seen the other movies?" the older one asked.

"Oh yeah, loved them," the kid said.

"I was your age when I saw the first one," the guy told him.

This isn’t the best movie out there. It’s not even the best “Rocky” movie. It's touching in places. Stallone does his best acting since "Paradise Alley." But it's far from the original film.

Still, it’s touching some sort of nerve. I won't say it's bridging generations or anything. The Star Wars series tried that and failed miserably because the last three films stunk so bad.

But it will be interesting to see where "Balboa" goes at the box office.

ANOTHER HOLIDAY CLASSIC

It's hard to believe it's been a year since I saw this.

MANCRAMPS: THE NAPOLEONIC ERA

Who knew that cramps were Napoleon's Waterloo? Along with, you know, Waterloo.

LETTER FROM IRAQ

Got this photo and e-mail from my buddy Drew, who's serving in Iraq:

You can take the home away from Christmas, but you can't take the Christmas away from home.

Drew

SOMETIMES, YOU JUST GOTTA DANCE

Even if it's at Best Buy. And the only DJ playing is in your head.

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 13

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator.
Day 4: Santanetics.
Day 5: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
Day 6: L'Oreal ... because Santa's worth it.
Day 7: He's Mr. Heat Miser.
Day 8: Santa was hung from the chimney with great care.
Day 9: Why is your bag so full, Panty Claus?
Day 10: Fluffer the Vixen.
Day 11: Santa balls.
Day 12: It's fun to stay at the P.O.L.E.

R.I.P: PETER BOYLE

HEY, HEY, PAULA

Headed south yesterday to see Food Network queen Paula Deen sign copies of her latest holiday cookbook at Sarasota News & Books on Tuesday night. I've interviewed her a couple times and saw her last at the South Beach Wine & Food Festival, so I thought I'd go pay my respects since she was in the neighborhood.

Talk about a mob scene.

The store insisted that everyone who got to meet her had a ticket to get in. To get a ticket, you had to buy a copy of her $26 cookbook, If you bought a red ticket, that meant you were one of the first 500 to do so and would get first preference for meeting the Deen of Southern Cooking. A blue ticket meant you were headed to the back of the line.

The store sold out of the red tickets and dipped way into the blue as the signing hour approached. The two lines - red and blue - stretched down the block in two directions for hundreds of people. Waiters at Two Senoritas Famous Mexican Food on Main Street brought menus out to the people waiting in line. As soon as the margaritas were flowing, cameras began flashing and the back of the blue-ticket line took on a decidedly rauccous tone.

Those who came out of the store after having their books signed waved and yelled, "Merry Christmas!" to those who still had yet to go inside. One mother who had a sleeping baby on her shoulder was relieved of her duty temporarily by another woman who offered to spell her for a moment.

Another woman and her adult daughter joined their husbands at the bar at Two Senoritas. As they did so, the mother did "my Paula Deen dance."

Eyeballing the mob near the bookstore's entrance, one middle-age woman in a smart blue dress-suit with white piping and matching bag tapped me on the shoulder and commented, "And they say butter doesn't sell."

The line, which included mostly women, (WARNING: CLICHE ALERT) turned strangers into friends. Seriously. One woman in front of me was chatting with another who just happened to arrive at the last minute at the back of the line. The first woman had two books with two tickets inside. The late arriver had none. That was, up until the woman with two books sold one of hers to the other woman so she could get inside.

How crazy did things get?

The first fan in line arrived at 9:30 a.m.

From Orlando. She had already seen Deen there earlier.

Fans who happened to be queueing up in the red-ticket line mobbed Dean as she stepped out of her SUV limousine, snapping photos, screaming her name and her husband Michael Groover's name and begging for hugs from both of them.

A few fans pegged her black-vested security guard for info as he listened to a radio transmission through an earpiece. They especially wanted to know where Deen had eaten before coming to the 6 p.m. signing.

"Would you believe McDonald's?" he said with a grin.

The ladies gasped and giggled.

"Did she have the fries?" one woman breathlessly asked.

"No, she did not," he said.

"Oh, my," the woman said, clutching her neck. "As much as Paula loves potatoes."

After it was over, a clutch of fans waited in the alley again for one more glimpse. One young man named Jared who was dressed in khaki pants and a dress shirt hovered with a camera near the front of the limo. After about 10 minutes, he recognized a female colleague from work.

"Yes, Mary, we're that nuts," Jared said. "Are you gonna tell everyone at The Gap that I'm nuts?"

A tall, thin woman in a white T-shirt who clearly had enough of all the shenanigans chastised the snapperazzi lingering with their digital cameras.

"Folks," she said, "Give it a rest. It's over."

To which I applied my favorite line from "Animal House": "Nothing's over until we say it's over. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?"

Which garnered no laughs.

Tough crowd.

Fifth grader Hunter Horne, 10, of Parrish, skipped school from Palmetto Christian so he could get in line early.

Who brought him?

Two of his teachers, Gayle Ballenger and Leigh Evans, each of whom took the day off so they could bring Hunter to the signing to meet his cooking idol. Knowing how much Hunter loves cooking, the teachers approached his mother, Nanette, and asked if they could bring him. They surprised the boy with the plan on Friday. He'd been antsy and anxiously awaiting the day ever since.

"It's my dream to be a famous chef," he said after the book signing, during which Deen posed for a photo with the boy and chatted with him briefly.

I was joined in this ridiculousness by Salad Boy and Salad Mother-In-Law, both of whom are huge Paula Deen fans.

Deen commented on Salad Boy's hair color and skin. (Yes, that's SB in the foreground.)

Her husband Michael (who is chatting with SB in this photo as Salad Mother-In-Law laughs at Deen's question) asked him if he had made any of the recipes in the book yet. When he said he had not, he suggested Brian try making the Bread Pudding.

"It's so easy, I can do it," Groover said.

After it was over, we went out in the alley to see how crazy things would get. Salad Boy tried to give Deen a hug as she came out but was rebuffed by a handler. He had to settle for a high-five as she pulled away. (That's his meaty paw in the photo.)

And as she rode away into the humid night, she let out one last Deen-ism, holiday style: "Merry Christmas, y'all!"

You can see more photos at my Snap! gallery.

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 12

On occasion, The Village People would pick up a few holiday gigs.

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator.
Day 4: Santanetics.
Day 5: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
Day 6: L'Oreal ... because Santa's worth it.
Day 7: He's Mr. Heat Miser.
Day 8: Santa was hung from the chimney with great care.
Day 9: Why is your bag so full, Panty Claus?
Day 10: Fluffer the Vixen.
Day 11: Santa balls.

BUCCANEER LEFTOVERS

What's the definition of regret?

This.

WOULD YOU LIKE AN APPLE PIE WIT DAT?

Ah, how I love the holiday classics.

A tip: You'll want to play this at work. Real loud.

I'D RATHER LIGHT A CANDLE...

From the House of Salad, we wish everyone a happy holiday season.

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 11

Hung with great care.

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator.
Day 4: Santanetics.
Day 5: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
Day 6: L'Oreal ... because Santa's worth it.
Day 7: He's Mr. Heat Miser.
Day 8: Santa was hung from the chimney with great care.
Day 9: Why is your bag so full, Panty Claus?
Day 10: Fluffer the Vixen.

SEE JOE SHOP. SEE JOE COOK. COOK, JOE, COOK.

Sunday was Sports Food Day for me. After I got finished shooting the tailgating video for TBO.com, I ran down to the Sam's Club on south Dale Mabry in Tampa to go shopping with Tampa Bay Devil Rays manager Joe Maddon.

Maddon is a huge food and wine aficionado, so he told the Devil Rays he he wanted to cook for needy people this holiday season. They hooked him up with St. Vincent De Paul parish in downtown St. Petersburg, and Maddon will be cooking a spaghetti dinner on Tuesday for about 300 people.

That led to a shopping trip on Sunday afternoon with Stephanie Renica, the D-Rays' community relations manager, team communications V.P. Rick Vaughn and bullpen catcher Scott Cursi.

(Can't fault a guy for checking out the non-food merchandise.)

What does the shopping list look like when you're cooking for 300?

Try this list, courtesy of the head chef at Tropicana Field, on for size:

SALAD

30 pounds iceberg lettuce mix (If using other mix, you could cut down to 20 – 25 pounds ... the other mixes are lighter and fluffier, so it takes less to fill the plate)

16 pints grape tomatoes
16 cucumbers
8 red onions
3 pounds shredded carrots
5 boxes croutons
Salad dressing – (2 gallons if you are putting on before serving, 3 gallons if they are putting their own dressing on)

MEATBALLS
50 pounds ground beef
20 pounds ground pork
50 eggs
3 cup dry parsley
5 pounds Parmesan cheese
6 pounds bread crumbs
1 cup granulated garlic
Salt & pepper to taste
(It will take approx 15 man-hours to make 600 – 2-ounce meatballs)

SAUSAGE 75 pounds, 4-ounce sausage

SAUCE
6 No. 10 cans tomato puree
6 No. 10 cans whole tomatoes
6 No. 10 cans crushed tomatoes
6 No. 10 cans tomato sauce
2 quarts olive oil
4 No. 10 cans water
2 cups basil

2 quarts red wine
4 cups garlic
1 cup sugar
Salt & pepper to taste

PASTA
60 pounds (If there will be a lot of kids, you can cut down to 50 pounds)

BREAD
38 20-inch loaves Italian bread

What was the damage at the register?

You'll have to check out the multimedia report by Julie Pace on Tuesday on TBO.com. (I'll link to it from here when it's posted.)

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 10

From the smeared lipstick to the remuneration dangling from between her bodice, all the visual cues indicate that Fluffer the Christmas Elf has been paid "under the table," so to say.

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator.
Day 4: Santanetics.
Day 5: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
Day 6: L'Oreal ... because Santa's worth it.
Day 7: He's Mr. Heat Miser.
Day 8: Santa was hung from the chimney with great care.
Day 9: Why is your bag so full, Panty Claus?

OH, I HAVE GOT TO GET ME ONE OF THESE!

Yes, that's right; It's a four-stroke, gasoline-powered blender with a pull-cord starter and handlebar throttle.

I think I've developed a serious blender fetish.

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN OVER TO A FRIEND'S HOUSE TO EAT AND THE FOOD JUST AIN'T NO GOOD? I MEAN, THE MACARONI'S SOGGY, THE PEAS ARE MUSHED AND THE CHICKEN TASTES LIKE WOOD.

Losing record nothwithstanding, one of the benefits of roaming with a video camera and a microphone through the parking lots outside Raymond James Stadium on Buccaneers game day: You get to meet some diehard fans and eat some damn fine grub.

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 9

Why are they crying?

Because Panty Claus just made a choo-choo in his shorts.

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator.
Day 4: Santanetics.
Day 5: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
Day 6: L'Oreal ... because Santa's worth it.
Day 7: He's Mr. Heat Miser.
Day 8: Santa was hung from the chimney with great care.

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 8

Rough crowd. One bag of coal and they go Mussolini on his ass.

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator.
Day 4: Santanetics.
Day 5: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
Day 6: L'Oreal ... because Santa's worth it.
Day 7: He's Mr. Heat Miser.

'LET ME UNDERSTAND THIS, 'CAUSE, YA KNOW, MAYBE IT'S ME. I'M A LITTLE F*&@!ED UP MAYBE. I'M FUNNY HOW? I MEAN, FUNNY LIKE I'M A CLOWN? I AMUSE YOU? I MAKE YOU LAUGH? I'M HERE TO F*&@!IN' AMUSE YOU? WHAT DO YOU MEAN FUNNY? FUNNY HOW? HOW AM I FUNNY?'

Dear Christopher Hitchens,

You and I agree on many things. The veneration of Scotch. The value of being literarily ubiquitous. The positive change that comes from snuffing bad guys. The futility of banning words. And, you know, the oral history of oral history. (Congrats, by the way, on crafting an examination of that particular intimate pleasure into one of the more ponderous reads of the early 21st century.)

Anyway, on one matter, I must part company with you: your assertion that by and large, women are not funny.

And I quote:

Why are women, who have the whole male world at their mercy, not funny? Please do not pretend not to know what I am talking about.

All right—try it the other way (as the bishop said to the barmaid). Why are men, taken on average and as a whole, funnier than women?

Well, for one thing, they had damn well better be. The chief task in life that a man has to perform is that of impressing the opposite sex, and Mother Nature (as we laughingly call her) is not so kind to men. In fact, she equips many fellows with very little armament for the struggle. An average man has just one, outside chance: he had better be able to make the lady laugh. Making them laugh has been one of the crucial preoccupations of my life. If you can stimulate her to laughter—I am talking about that real, out-loud, head-back, mouth-open-to-expose-the-full-horseshoe-of-lovely-teeth, involuntary, full, and deep-throated mirth; the kind that is accompanied by a shocked surprise and a slight (no, make that a loud) peal of delight—well, then, you have at least caused her to loosen up and to change her expression. I shall not elaborate further.

Women have no corresponding need to appeal to men in this way. They already appeal to men, if you catch my drift.

Of course, and I think you would recognize and agree, humor is a subjective exercise. One man's (or woman's or child's) belly laugh is another's vomitous revulsion.

Your argument that humor is vital to a man's charm in pitching woo while being entirely superfluous in a woman's appeal to a potential mate appears logical on it's clinical, biological, very studied surface. And wildly inaccurate. If anything, an appreciation of humor - and the said execution of same - separates a woman from her peers.

I will not attempt to refute your treatise point by point. I will not even bother to note your use of bishop-to-barmaid metaphors as proof of your point in reverse. I will merely extend the following examples (none of which are remotely in the same universe of being suitable for work viewing, much less acceptable by those who might have sensibilities which are easily offended) for your consideration:

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

This.

And, of course, this.

Thank you for your attention, Mr. Hitchens.

You may now go back to making love to your tonic and gin.

Jeff

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 7

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator.
Day 4: Santanetics.
Day 5: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
Day 6: L'Oreal ... because Santa's worth it.

AND NOW AMERICA'S FAVORITE GAME SHOW:
"FUNNY, FUNNIER, FUNNIEST!"

Funny.

Funnier.

Funniest.

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 6

Santa needs to lay off the cream rinse.

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator.
Day 4: Santanetics.
Day 5: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!

CHRISTMAS IN IRAQ

Addison sent an excellent suggestion yesterday.

Would it be possible for Drew (I think that’s the name of your ex-neighbor over in Iraq right now) to let us know if he knows of any members of his group or that he might know of that could use a little Christmas cheer because they won’t be getting any from home? Might not be a bad project for Side Salad readers.

I know we have a box going out today for Drew, but I know that anyone who wants to send anything to his troops can do so through him.

His address is:

Meyerowich, Drew
Unit # 70093
APO AE 09338

I got another e-mail sent to friends and family of the Wolfhounds battalion this morning, in fact. Apparently holiday preparations are underway there as well, Drew says.

Family and Friends of the Wolfhounds;

Now that Thanksgiving is over, we find ourselves in the middle of the
holiday season with mixed emotions of mission, loneliness, and sacrifice.

As the Battalion Commander, I would like to convey to you my impressions of how TF Wolfhound is dealing with this as we continue our mission here in Iraq.

Planning for the holiday season was initiated without any directive from me. Every leader and Soldier has attacked the Christmas mission like Wolfhounds do for every other mission. The chaplain has taken on the decoration of the FOB as well as multiple religious activities and the CSM and 1SGs are planning the New Years Eve bash. Individual Wolfhounds are taking on the holiday season each in their own unique way. Our Iraqi Brothers in Arms are all watching with intense curiosity. FOB McHenry will definitely represent everything that our society back in America does during this season.

Completion of our mission continues to be our number one priority and the Wolfhounds are doing incredible things every day. We have learned so much over the past few months in theater, and every member of the team is operating at an incredible level of proficiency and professionalism. Our way of showing Ruthlessness and Compassion is showing major impacts to our area of responsibility. Iraqi government leaders are talking about their respect for us simply because of our professionalism and respect for the innocent Iraqi people that are tormented every day by criminals that only want them to live in destruction and hatred. People are starting to come to us for help as opposed to running from us. This is not everyone, but if you could see what we are seeing, you would have such an incredible example of
why Wolfhounds are so damn proud of being Wolfhounds. We don't just catch one terrorist at a time, we bring down networks. We don't just patrol looking for IEDs; we hunt down everyone that was responsible for emplacing a bomb that indiscriminately kills women, children and Soldiers alike.

Wolfhounds don't do anything small and every day our Soldiers are doing their mission with intense ruthlessness or compassion.whatever it takes.

The stress of the Christmas away from home cannot be near as hard as having your Wolfhound gone during the holiday season. We are constantly working and keeping ourselves focused on our mission and this activity not only makes the time go by faster, but it also keeps our minds occupied. When our thoughts drift back to our loved ones, we like to think that you are all doing well enjoying the holiday season supporting each other just as we support each other every day over here. The Wolfhound Team has never been stronger and our cohesion as Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and civilians stands as a shining example for everyone to emulate. Our Wolfhound family and
friends back home are equally as committed to our mission and each other.

Make every day of this holiday season something that everyone remembers as both united in sacrifice and blessed in love and friendship.

Thank you all for what you do every day in support of our Wolfhound Team and our nation. Everyone can sleep well tonight and every night knowing that the Wolfhounds stand guard protecting this world against hatred and terrorism. The destruction that these criminals attempt to inflict on the innocent people of Iraq is being met every day, head on by your Wolfhound's simple belief: NO FEAR ON EARTH!

Respectfully Yours;

DREW R. MEYEROWICH
LTC, IN
Commander, 2-27 Infantry "Wolfhounds"

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 5

Is it me or does this Santa mask look like Howard Stern regular Beetlejuice?

The dude should at least get a residual based on resemblance.

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator.
Day 4: Santanetics.

DIRT WIGGLERS

There are some who might say that much of Florida is a backwards place, full of rednecks and inbreds and half-wit Bubbas.

And to that, I'd merely point them to this vending machine outside of a Wal-Mart in Bartow.

What's for sale in the Bass-O-Vend?

Frozen bait, of course.

Hat tip: Valerie.

NOW BOARDING: THE HELL EXPRESS

And now to break up the decidedly adult content that has suddenly emerged on the Salad, I shall offer a palate cleanser of heresy and sacrilege.

Jesus Appears on Backside of Beloved Pet!

Angus MacDougall is a three-year-old terrier mix that has recently been blessed with the revered and holy image of Jesus Christ on his hindquarters. Is this manifestation of The Prince of Peace a coincidence or a bona fide miracle?

See him!

HOLD ME CLOSER, TINY DANCER

I get the best e-mail.

I got this from a colleague at work, who shall remain anonymous:

Sent: Friday, December 01, 2006 5:24 PM
Subject: OMG

On Friday, Dec. 8, at a Pasco County bar called The Brass Flamingo, there will be a featured stripper performing named Tiny Tina who is 3-foot-9

I have no interest in this. Honestly.

I just wanted to use the Elton John lyric in the headline.

JUMP ON IT, APACHE

You might have noticed in a photo in a post below that there was a gentleman in a stocking cap perched on an odd apparatus.

His name is Rob. He's a salesman at Brookstone in the Brandon Town Center mall.

While we were shopping Saturday night, we came upon this gadget in the front of his store called an iGallop. The concept: exercise your abs, back, butt and legs by riding a device that simulates the oscillation experienced by riding horseback.

As the Brookstone site explains:

The secret is in its zero-impact, tri-axial riding action. Your body automatically responds to its multidirectional movement, and this balancing engages certain muscle groups and may help improve coordination and posture.

Okay. Whatever.

The funny part: Rob could do this shit. He did a hand press with his legs spread that was borderline Kurt Thomas in "Gymkata" material.

When I asked to take his photo, he didn't flinch. "People ask to take my picture all the time," he said.

I'm guessing Rob's dance card is full.

Even funnier is that there's a competing product (you knew there had to be) called a Joba that goes a step beyond and actually puts a saddle on the damn thing. Just slip on your Lycra jodhpurs and go to town.

The only ass-reduction I witnessed took place as people who were walking past this thing laughed their asses off.

Why?

Because in the video that ran on a TV behind the iGallops in the doorway, a woman who was demonstrating the workouts you could do essentially looked like she was demonstrating exercise porn. Legs were akimbo, arms were flailing and beneath it all was this bucking, vibrating engine making everything she had shake and wiggle. Which, you know, is great entertainment in the mall on a Saturday night, but I don't know any woman who'd want to look like that while they were exercising. That probably says more about the women I know, but that's another post for another time.

Need proof that this is hardcore stuff? Here's the rather risque ad they use to sell it in Asia:

Big White Guy, who as you might guess is a big, white guy, lives in Hong Kong. I've been reading his fish-out-of-water blog for years.

His take on the device's appeal in that country when it showed up in HK in April this year:

Hong Kongers are suckers for exercise equipment that reduces the need for real exertion.

So are Valricans.

Salad Wife, who is the only person I've ever known who has worn out a home treadmill due to overuse, had only two things to say when she saw it.

To Rob The Salesman: "Is this a joke?"

To The Salad Husband: "Do NOT get this for me for Christmas."

I make no promises. Okay, I promise. Temporarily. Or maybe just for this Christmas - it sells for the bargain price of $499. But maybe not for a Christmas down the road. Because you know this demon thing will start showing up at Goodwill and the Ruskin Flea Market in about two years.

Not surprisingly, the iGallop already has inspired a rash of spoofs, including one by a couple women who tried to do the exercises done by the woman in the training video.

My favorite is this one, which features a cat riding on the saddle of the device:

The cat's name?

Salad.

[Insert your own "tossed salad" joke here.]

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 4

A psychiatrist could have a field day with this one.

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.
Day 3: The Santanator

IT'S TIME FOR THE ADJECTIVE PARADE!
(CHRISTMAS SHOPPING AT THE MALL EDITION)

Waggish

Ersatz

Paradoxical

LOOKS LIKE A GATOR CHRISTMAS

Santa brought an early present to Casa del Ensalada by putting the Florida Gators into the NCAA national championship football game.

Where did we watch the Gators beat the Arkansas Razorbacks to earn that honor?

At the mall, of course.

While doing some Christmas shopping, we'd sneak a peek at a TV in a store or somewhere else in the mall.

We happened upon this Brighthouse kiosk that was surrounded by Gator fans just as the Gators increased their lead to 10. Fans were muttering that USC had lost and that we might get to play in the national championship game if we won. Several shoppers had their Gator gear on as they stood and watched.

We watched the final few minutes while shopping at Sports Fan Attic. All the sales guys there were putting fresh Florida hats and shirts on, even though the store was about to close. They hadn't moved any gear up to the front of the store yet. That would happen on Sunday, they said.

Other stores weren't so tardy. Dillard's had tons of Gator duds out on the racks, including one rack that was sort of telling.

Only two of these shirts on the half-off rack were Gator shirts. The rest were all Florida State.

As it should be, of course.

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 3

Santa is such a girly man.

PREVIOUS ENTRIES

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.
Day 2: You know Whipper and Flogger and Spanker and Hits'em.

ALL HAIL, FLORIDA, HAIL

I'm not going to brag about the Gator's SEC Championship victory over Arkansas on Saturday night.

All I'll say is this. And this. Oh, and this, too.

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS, DAY 2

She knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. The woman has a damn whip in her hands, after all.

PREVIOUS ENTRY

Day 1: It's Smeary, the drunken, grease-painted Christmas clown.

NOT TODAY, NOT TOMORROW, BUT SOON
AND FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

The PC I work on at home is going on 7 years old. Which, you know, is ancient by current standards.

It's slow as molasses. Every program takes minutes to load - yes, minutes. Startup alone is a 15-minute process. I just turn it on and walk away until it's ready to catch up to me.

About a year after I bought it, the operating system - Windows Millennium - went to hell. The only thing I could raise was the Blue Screen of Death. I called Microsoft and Gateway for tech support and was told I'd have to reformat the hard drive. So I did. They walked me through it over the phone. It was a total disaster.

A friend of mine who owned a computer installation company offered to come over and load Windows XP instead. "Millennium is a turd," he told me.

So he loaded XP. Didn't charge me a dime. Thing ran great for the better part of 6 years.

That was until about three months ago, when I started getting a screen on my opening page that said "This copy of Windows is not genuine." The message started appearing after Microsoft pushed through an update onto my system.

When you click through, it tells you that it will cost $100 to rectify the problem.

Yes, that's right. They waited 6 years to tell me that my system violates copyright. And all they want is 100 sheckels. Immediately.

I have to click through this warning every time I start the computer. Then once I start the computer, I have to click through a window that asks if I want to "resolve now" or "resolve later." I click resolve later and then it makes me wait five seconds.

The latest bit of fun: It's started to mess with my McAfee security software. I get little messages from them in the corner of my screen a few dozen times an hour telling me that my computer's safety cannot be verified and that security updates cannot be installed.

Oh, and Microsoft keeps trying to send me updates for the system. Updates, mind you, that cannot be loaded because my system isn't "genuine." They just sit there in computer limbo, taking up space on my hard-drive.

Which is where I am right now.

Now, I don't want to be a skeptic. I really don't. I'd like to think that Microsoft isn't shaking the trees for money the year before they introduce their Vista operating system. See, that would mean they were snookering lots of people to buy an old system right before it became obsolete. That would be a bad public relations move, wouldn't you think?

And wouldn't it be bad customer relations to assume that someone purposefully and illegally loaded counterfeit software when, in fact, they had no control over that?

And then wouldn't it be a liability to the image of the company to interfere with the security of that system just for the sake of shaking 100 bucks from someone's wallet? Wouldn't that be seen as a type of extortion?

It's enough to make you not want to reward that type of behavior with additional purchases. Or at least try this workaround hack.

Then I read this post. I have no idea who this guy is, but I saw the post at Digg. Apparently this Thomas Hawk is known for his love of PCs and Windows.

Of note was this particular passage in the post:

It just works. It took about 48 hours of getting used to but once my little introductory awkward phasewas over it just works so much better. It springs to life immediately when I open it.

That sounds like what I want. I just want my computer to work. I don't want a thousand other programs to run simultaneously that I have no control over. I just want my computer to work without being browbeaten for more money. I want a computer that doesn't make me work harder than it works.

So I've made a decision: the next computer I buy will be an Apple. Yes, that will make life messy. Yes, it will take some rethinking on my part.

But if the iPod Nano I have and enjoy has taught me anything: it's that Apple is a company that likes to make a lot of money through good, efficient, user-friendly design, not through bald-faced shakedown methods.

That, my friends, I can live without.

URRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!

Press release of the week, courtesy of my good friend Bob Ross, movie critic for the Tribune:

Sent: Friday, December 01, 2006 1:34 PM
To: Ross, Robert A.
Subject: LiveDigital and Beerfest Launch "Belchfest"

Bob,

LiveDigital has officially launched the first-ever online belching competition - Belchfest - to support the DVD release of the hit comedy Beerfest.

Beerfest fans are being challenged to take their love of carbonated beverages to the next level and "let 'er rip" for the webcam. Once the belch has been uploaded, online viewers will vote the clips thumbs up or thumbs down.

The 5 entrants with the loudest, most outrageous burps will receive an iPod Nano, just in time for the holidays, courtesy of LiveDigital and Beerfest.

The Beerfest DVD will be on December 5, 2006, and fans of Beerfest can upload videos to Belchfest through December 14.

For the record, Belchfest and The Fart Waffle are not related, although they probably should be on some cosmic, gasseous emissions plane of the universe.

CALENDAR OF DISTURBING SANTAS

We kick off the third annual edition of Side Salad's (semi/quasi/sort of) daily Santa extravaganza with an image that harnesses the sum of all fears in us: drunken, unruly behavior, smeared makeup and clowns.

She's gonna make a great ex-wife for some lucky guy.

You might want to shave those pits before New Year's, Mrs. Claus.

TOMORROW: Santa did a bad, bad thing.

AND NOW, YOUR MOMENT OF BRITNEY

Dear Santa,

No toys for me this year. I don't even want world peace. And I already have a brand new truck, so I'm set for a while.

All I want for Christmas is for Britney Spears to put on some damn drawers.

She's making me dislike female genitalia.

I need for that to stop, pronto.

Happy Holidays,

Jeff

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS OF
YOUR MOMENT OF BRITNEY

K-Fed cornrows. Bad idea.

Gallery of the Absurd.

Brit and KFed, the ill-advised reality TV series.

Lights, camera, Britney.

Britney wears the glamorous life.

Britney takes a palimony suit.

Something old, something new.

Britney takes a groom. Again.

Britney defends her latest love.

Britney marries a childhood friend. For 50 hours.

Britney swaps spit with the Rosetta Stone of Skank.

Britney poses for photos that make her look even more plastic and lifeless than she already is.

Britney, as she would look if she hit the all-you-can-eat Seafood Lovers Special at Red Lobster every night for six months.

Britney runs a restaurant into the ground.

Britney has an evil twin available for parties.

Britney and George cut a rug.

Britney proves the axiom: Beer affects the way males respond to females.