SIDE SALAD - Everything crunchy is good.

TALK TO ME GOOSE

I'm not usually much for attending theme parties. Mostly because finding a costume for someone with my dimensions is a large pain in the tuchass.

But if you ever get invited to an '80s party at my buddy Patrick's house, I highly recommend you attend. We went last weekend and I'm still laughing at the memories.

Yes, there was a lip synching competition. And a breakdancing competition. And a moonwalking competition. Hilarious, all of them. Video of these exist, but only for blackmail purposes.

Who was in attendance?

Maverick, Goose and Madonna.

(Maverick narrowly lost to Slash from Guns N' Roses in an air guitar contest.)

Rocky Balboa.

("Yo, Adrian. My abs are riding up.")

Rocky's wife, Wonder Woman, who served Jell-O shots.

Again, very '80s. Or at least what little of it I still remember.

There also was an AC/DC groupie. The four-pack of Bartles and Jaymes she brought was a nice touch.

There was a time in my life during the '80s when Bartles and Jaymes could technically have qualified as extended family for me.

Best and most-simple costume of the night? (Besides Salad Wife, who spectacularly dressed as a Robert Palmer girl - with me as a very oversized and greasy-headed R.P.)

Had to give the award to Joel Goodson from "Risky Business."

I am so stealing this idea next time I go to an '80s costume party. That is both a promise and a warning.

My favorite costume was also the darkest costume of the night. That it adorned Salad Boy is a source of eternal pride:

Baby Jessica in the well.

CUPCAKE REDUX

A couple weeks ago I posted photos I shot at The Cupcake Spot.

Well, I finally wrestled technology to the ground and figured out how to edit the audio I recorded so I could match it to the photos.

Here goes:

BLOG: 'TAMPA BAY DEVIL RAYS WILL WIN BIG [SOMEDAY]'

Funniest pre-season assessment of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays' chances this year comes courtesy of Deadspin:

Watching the 2008 Tampa Bay Devil Rays will be like watching Natalie Portman in "Beautiful Girls." You know she is going to be hot when she grows up, but part of you wonders if it is OK to look at a 14-year-old that way. And when she does finally grow up and she is even sexier than you imagined, there is a part of you that still sees the 14-year-old and it makes you feel a little guilty. And yet, you can't wait for the Tampa Bay Rays first nude scene...Wait...What was I saying? Nevermind...

Ladies and gentlemen, these are not your older brother's Devil Rays.

The rest is just as funny.

AND NOW, YOUR MOMENT OF BRITNEY:
SORT OF, EDITION

Okay, this is funny.

ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC:
PLAYING POLITICAL FOOTSIE

PREVIOUS ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC:

Timing is everything.

Haten and hogs.

Drive-by Twinkie.

Jimi Hendrix Edition.

Sit on it and rotate.

I'm your private antenna dancer.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Welcome to Springfield.

Orange you glad you're not this guy?

Everything's better when it sits on a Ritz.

Patriotic turtles.

Bubba's sidekick.

Goin' mobil.

G'day, mate.

Porn as a windowshade.

Jonathan Livingston Redneck.

Buc off, pal.

Such a dirty mess.

How cheep can you be?

I'm super! Thanks for asking.

Would you like an apple pie with that?

Hearse so good.

Drive fast, take chances.

Riding with Fab the deejay.

Beware of the Death Explorer.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right.

My other car is a rocket-propelled grenade.

Live long and prosper. In an Altima.

Just two good ol' boys.

Asshats aplenty.

Nicotine is my crash helmet.

Jazz hands moms.

Ugly lug nuts.

Pretty ballsy.

My honor student can kick your ass.

Garfield mudflaps.

Horse and buddy.

WE LIKE THE CARS, THE CARS THAT GO VROOM

If you haven't visited the infield at Daytona International Speedway, you owe it to yourself.

I dropped by on Saturday to do a story about cooking among the people camping out before the Budweiser Shootout. It was a full-on party with lots of good food, and this was for a race that was pretty inconsequential. Wait until the Daytona 500 cranks up this weekend.

My favorite moment came while strolling through the Sprint Fan Zone just behind pit row.

The people were all gathered around one of the windows that allows fans to look into a garage bay and watch crews work on cars. Occasionally a driver will step in and check things out. That's what was happening here. Hence the crowd.

A closer look at the young lady in the back of the group revealed an interesting detail:

Anyway, here are some photos I shot on Saturday. And here's a video I put together (If the image of people drinking and having fun offends you, don't click):

AND NOW, YOUR MOMENT OF BRITNEY

From my good friend Eliot Kleinberg, author of so many books about weird Florida life that I've lost count, here's a perfect poke at the media for their Britney obsession:

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS OF
YOUR MOMENT OF BRITNEY

Harsh, babe. Very harsh.

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.

EMBARASSING FAMILY PHOTO
WHICH I'M ALREADY REGRETTING
HAVING SHARED WITH THE WORLD
FOR COMEDIC PURPOSES:
I'LL HAVE WHAT THE ADOLESCENT
ON THE BAR IS HAVING EDITION

My cousin Bruno, circa 1955, bored and tired and sleeping on the family bar in Dundalk, Md.

Must have been Unhappy Hour.

If you lean close to the screen, you can almost smell the second-hand smoke and the funky water in the sink where they cleaned all the beer glasses.

Then again, it may have been the odor of the pony he rode around the bar.

(Update: Salad Mom - that's her on the bar stool as a young girl - informs me that the corner of the bar was where she and Bruno would watch Saturday morning cartoons. That's what was happening at the time. I stand corrected. I do not, however, regret the error.)

WHY WAS C.G.I. INVENTED?

For this.

JUST THREW UP IN MY MOUTH A LITTLE

I HAVE A SCANNER. I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT

Been combing through the Saladsonian in search of things I want to archive, now that Salad Mom has been so kind to give me a portable scanner to use.

One of my favorites: a children's nursery rhyme booklet from the 1930s that belongs to Salad Mother-In-Law.

Can someone explain how you "meet" a dunce cap? And what's up with the elf on the drum with the Belichickian sourpuss on his face? Weird.

You can read the rest of the nursery rhymes here.

A SERIES OF OPEN LETTERS:
NON-COOPERSTOWN EDITION

Dear Matt Silverman,

Vince Naimoli called yesterday. Said he wants his not-quite-droll-enough-to-be-funny schtick back.

As you can guess, the conversation was mostly an invective-filled vowel movement, but I did make out a threat to take you to court if you infringed on his patented "Calling Security To Have A Fan In The Left-Field Grandstands With A Double-Entendre Sign Ejected From Tropicana Field" move. The blondes used to love that.

Looking forward to Spring Training.

Jeff

p.s. While you're at it, you also might want to send a letter to Alyssa Milano to cut it out. Then again, maybe not.

PREVIOUS OPEN LETTERS:

Lay Off My Yaz Edition

Karma Is A Bitch Edition

Paging Mr. Freud Edition

Imitation Is Not Flattery Edition

I Ate A Baby Edition

Andy Samberg Edition

Personal Technology Edition

Crazy Nordic Singers Edition

An Inconvenient Poop Edition

THAT'S AMAZING! WHAT'S THE NAME OF YOUR ACT?

"The Aristrocrats!"

Disregard the above. This was a test. Had it been an actual blog post, you would have been told where to turn to in your broadcast area.

WHAT, NO RAZZMATAZZ?

The extra ZZs make it extra pizzazzy.

The triple exclamation points? Pure, unfiltered human excitement.

ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC:
TIMING IS EVERYTHING EDITION

Given the results of yesterday's Super Bowl win by the New York Giants ...

... the message I saw on this Explorer in downtown Tampa this morning must have seemed like a much better idea on Dec. 30.

PREVIOUS ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC:

Haten and hogs.

Drive-by Twinkie.

Jimi Hendrix Edition.

Sit on it and rotate.

I'm your private antenna dancer.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Welcome to Springfield.

Orange you glad you're not this guy?

Everything's better when it sits on a Ritz.

Patriotic turtles.

Bubba's sidekick.

Goin' mobil.

G'day, mate.

Porn as a windowshade.

Jonathan Livingston Redneck.

Buc off, pal.

Such a dirty mess.

How cheep can you be?

I'm super! Thanks for asking.

Would you like an apple pie with that?

Hearse so good.

Drive fast, take chances.

Riding with Fab the deejay.

Beware of the Death Explorer.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right.

My other car is a rocket-propelled grenade.

Live long and prosper. In an Altima.

Just two good ol' boys.

Asshats aplenty.

Nicotine is my crash helmet.

Jazz hands moms.

Ugly lug nuts.

Pretty ballsy.

My honor student can kick your ass.

Garfield mudflaps.

Horse and buddy.

CUP THAT CAKE

Tampa has a new bakery, The Cupcake Spot on South Dale Mabry.

I went there the other day to do a story and walked out proving a new maxim: You can't shoot a bad photo of a cupcake.