SIDE SALAD - Everything crunchy is good.

I'M JUST WAITING ON A FRIEND

My friend Al over at the always entertaining Bike Stories has a message he'd like to convey:

Jeff, Can you tell your Salad readers that Bike Stories is down for technical difficulties and hopefully it will be up soon. In the meantime, feel free to use this shot of a mascot that also looks outraged at the Lightning play against Buffalo tonight. Al

Message delivered. Thunderbug would no doubt approve of being used for such purposes.

PINK LIKE THE SHEETS THAT WE LAY ON.
PINK IS MY FAVORITE CRAYON.

Back when the Salad Clan was young and had discretionary income to spend on things other than trombones, pre-paid college tuition, monster-truck-size replacement tires and adolescent orthodontics, we actually would stay at nice hotels for the weekend.

What did that gain us? For one, it allowed us the exciting opportunity to be put on e-mail spam lists.

And since Valentine's Day is around the corner, our friends in the hospitality industry seem to think it's time to refresh our acquaintance.

What are the good folks at Loews resorts offering? A multitude of romantic weekends in a variety of cities.

A note to the wordsmiths at Loews: If there's a package and it's pink, there's a good chance that it could require tickling, but it's unlikely that the package belongs to "her." As a result, a few customers at the Don CeSar may be expecting more room service than you're planning to provide.

Then again...

...maybe the hotel is just one gigantic pink metaphor.

SEEMS LIKE YOU'RE ALWAYS STUCK IN SECOND GEAR

AND NOW HE'S GONE REDUX: SLIGHT RETURN

Thanks for the memories, A Train.

You were one helluva runner, Mike Alstott. And an even classier guy. Which really sounds unclassy to say, but so be it. Not many people would have eaten the gigantic shit sandwich handed to you by Gruden & Co. with such dignity.

Plus, you made a great bobblehead.

I was there for the 19-yard run against Cleveland. I almost started weeping, it was such an amazing run. I was there for the Washington game, too. The man just had no regard for his body. Which is why he's retiring today, I guess. That he hands the legacy keys to the running game over to Earnest Graham instead of Michael Pittman pleases me to no end. There's a symmetry in one lunchpail guy ending his career as another one takes his place.

For the record, that officially leaves us with one to root for on our tally sheet.

TANGIBLE EVIDENCE OF A PERFECT 43RD BIRTHDAY

EMBARASSING FAMILY PHOTO
WHICH I'M ALREADY REGRETTING
HAVING SHARED WITH THE WORLD
FOR THE PURPOSES OF COMIC RELIEF;
VERTICAL HOLD EDITION

I HAVE TOO MUCH ACCESS TO TECHNOLOGY

THE UNDERBELLY TOUR RIDES AGAIN

One thing you won't get by reading my story today about The Tampa Underbelly Tour, Part Deux: giant babies.

Yes, that's right. Humongus offspring. Fake, of course.

After our meal at La Pequena Colombia, we walked a few doors down in the strip mall where it was located so we could stop in a store called El Encanto. The thing that got our attention was the line on the sign that read: House of Pinatas.

This was one of the oddest places I've ever been in. It wasn't just that you had to limbo through the store underneath the pinatas. It was, well, the giant baby dolls.

That's just wrong. I'm sorry.

Anyway, if you want to get a sense of what it's like to spend six hours eating yourself stupid at some of the tastiest spots in Tampa, check out the videos we shot:

Intro:

AND NOW, YOUR MOMENT OF BRITNEY

Even to me, someone who has run a celebrity Dead Pool for the past few years, this seems a little harsh.

Inevitable, yes. But harsh.

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS OF
YOUR MOMENT OF BRITNEY

Behold, the Brit'brero.

When Xanax and dancing collide.

No carpet, no drapes, no problem.

Britochio.

Now, with a breathable cotton panel.

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.

When Xanax and dancing collide.

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.

MANDOG, MANDOG. ALONE IN THE WORLD IS THE LITTLE MANDOG.

Working at The News Center occasionally affords me the good fortune of enjoying the company of numerous celebrities, pseudo-celebrities and downright unique individuals here at The News Center.

But nothing prepared me for the unadulterated, nuclear-bright star power of meeting the most droll mascot on the planet: ManDog.

As the spokesman for Flush Puppies, a new product created by two Tampa entrepreneurs (and University of Florida graduates) that allows owners to flush their pets' waste in a biodegradable bag, ManDog's responsibilities include speaking with the media. Hence his visit to the News Center.

He's also the cover boy of this promotional newspaper:

In the promo paper, I was particularly struck by this magnificent piece of excretory journalism. (Yes, I know. Some might argue that most journalism is excretory in nature.):

To get an accurate sense of ManDog's magnetic appeal, you really must check out his reviews of culturally significant videos, including this one of a Ron Paul TV campaign ad:

For those who are similarly affected by the cult of his personality, you can find ManDog on Facebook and a MySpace page.

EMBARASSING FAMILY PHOTO
WHICH I'M ALREADY REGRETTING
HAVING SHARED WITH THE WORLD
FOR THE PURPOSES OF COMIC RELIEF;
STAND UP STRAIGHT, FOR CRISSAKES EDITION

Still can't hit the curvball.

EMBARASSING FAMILY PHOTO
WHICH I'M ALREADY REGRETTING
HAVING SHARED WITH THE WORLD
FOR THE PURPOSES OF COMIC RELIEF;
WELCOME TO THE GAP EDITION

Yes, that is a silk shirt.

Yes, that is a stampede of wild horses.

No, I did not have pinkeye.

EMBARASSING FAMILY PHOTO
WHICH I'M ALREADY REGRETTING
HAVING SHARED WITH THE WORLD
FOR THE PURPOSES OF COMIC RELIEF;
FAKE FIREPLACE EDITION

1976. Montgomery Ward department store.

Christmas breakfast with Santa.

Free portrait with breakfast.

NEW YEAR'S HANGOVER, DAY 6

Grumpy and tired.

Moderately less grumpy, but still pretty damn tired.

LIFE IMITATES 'SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE'

PREVIOUS IMITATIONS

Life imitates art.

Life imitates Side Salad.

Life imitates "The Office."

SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND

WRITER'S STRIKE SYMPATHY BEARD
WE WISH WE COULD GROW

F IS FOR FLORIDA.
F IS FOR FAHRENHEIT.
F IS FOR FRIGGIN' COLD.

Temps are supposed to drop into the high 20s tonight.

Had to cover the plants, of course.

Oh, and I had to bust out one other tool.

Can't have freeze warnings without deploying the smoker.

Yes, it's 39 34 degrees out and I'm smoking a brisket.

Good times.

Brisketgasm.

OH 8

Why go out and drive around to act stupid on New Year's when you can do it at home in front of your house with your family, friends and neighbors?