Lithia. What a shock.
::::chewing my invisible gum::::
The producers at "Cops" must be pea-green with envy that "MBRW" scouted this location first.
Five bucks says they walk their dog with a motorcycle through the neighborhood every night at 11 p.m.
What's next? Rachael Che?
Jeez. Sometimes a scarf is just a scarf.
Dust Awkward professional descriptions in the winnnnnnd...
All we are is
dust awkward professional descriptions in the winnnnnnnd.
It's that time of year again, and that year again. Many of the military families in our neighborhood are packing up and getting ready to move to their next assignments.
That means our good friends Autumn, Patrick and their sons P.J., Nick and Charlie are only a few weeks away from moving north.
Which means that yesterday called for a neighborhood send-off.
We did the shrimp boil...
We did the Giant Vat O'Corn...
But we also added a new ritual to our send-off:
Patrick once suggested that we assemble all of the Salad Bowl lawn inflatables, so we decided to give him a 10-inflatable salute this morning before he flew out.
The salute included:
* The musical snow family
* The giant snowglobe
* Two Thanksgiving turkeys
* A margarita glass with salted rim
* A glowing Halloween skull
* A giant Halloween inflatable gateway
* A Buccaneers player in a three-point stance
* A happy birthday cake
* An Easter bunny
It had the desired effect.
Here's to a safe move and a happy new home for our dear friends.
"Do you promise to not buy something if I show it to you?" Salad Wife said to me as we were shopping.
Every corner in Costco presents the opportunity for new consumer treasure. This was one of those opportunities.
"I can't make that kind of promise."
"I know where you're standing," I told her. "It has to be in that location. I'm going to find it with or without your assistance."
I walked over to one of the see-thru cooler doors where she was standing.
"Oh, this," I said. "Saw it last week."
She looked dismayed. The look on her face registered bemusement, regret, dismay and the potential for exhaustion of insurance deductable after a batter-inducing arterial stent.
"Have you had it yet?" she asked me.
"No, and I want a thousand extra credit points for showing restraint for once in my life."
Sometimes when two food items love each other, they decide to make a weiner.
My friend Patrick's response: "Mustard has really nice legs."
If you have to get paid to do something for a living, I'd have to say that earning remuneration for eating two plates of delicious braised veal shank as a crowd of onlookers watches you down each forkful and slurp up the delicate marrow has to be one of the most satisfying and completely narcissistic moments one can achieve.
For more photos of a cooking throwdown I judged last night in Tampa between a fire house cook and a professional chef, click here.
And she's always "gone too long."
For more, go here.
I'm so giddy, I can't help but write some Ray-ku.
Rays are in first place.
The Yankees are in last place.
Suck on it, New York.
Our coach: Cool glasses.
Your coach: Bitter, clean shaven.
I'll take Joe Maddon.
Caused mascot Raymond to faint.
I know the feeling.
Matsui crushed us.
The rest of team, not so much.
Thanks a lot, A-Rod.
Hey, New York Yankees.
You might want to consider
getting some pitching.
Hank Steinbrenner is
mimicking daddy's anger.
Find the Lipitor!
We left our jock straps
Down in last place. Could you please
mail them to us? Thanks.
Is that what I think?
That spot next to the bullpen...
PREVIOUS TAMPA BAY
DEVIL RAYS POSTS:
Mascot camel toe.
A case of the vapors.
Let's play base-brawl.
'Can't wait for the nude scene.'
Devil and Alyssa Milano.
Who's the boss?
Losing their diablo.
Barry Bonds and the Tampa Bay Giants.
'Terrible' Ty Wigginton, arrrrrrrrrrgh!
One of these things doesn't belong.
Meet the Rays 'brero.
Some would say that this hand is half empty.
See Joe cook. Cook, Joe, Cook.
A cup of Joe.
Table for two.
Buh-bye, Mr. Pinella.
You had me at, "Any way you want to eat them."
...well, you know.
Cross-posted at Salad Spinner.
A couple weeks ago, I got an e-mail from a friend at work.
A friend of mine has 2 very good seats to the Bon Jovi with Daughtry show at the forum Sunday night, $140 each.
Very thoughtful. But I'm not really the Bon Jovi type. Especially, not to the tune of $140. The closest I got to being a fan was faking interest in "Livin' on a Prayer" at a club one time so I could get a girl to like me. It didn't work. My dignity never recovered.
One of my favorite lines ever, in fact, is a Bon Jovi-related joke by Denis Leary:
We live in a country, where John Lennon takes six bullets in the chest, Yoko Ono was standing right next to him and not one f##king bullet! Explain that to me! Explain that to me, God! Explain it to me, God! Now we've got 25 more years of 'I-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi'. Yeah, I'm real f##king happy now, God. I'm wearing a huge happy hat.
I mean, how is it that Stevie Ray Vaughan is dead ... and we can't get Jon Bon Jovi into a helicopter? Come on, folks. 'Get on that helicopter John. Shut the f##k up and get on that helicopter! There's a hair dresser in there.'"
So, to recap: Jeff, Jovi, not a big fan. I wasn't about to buy concert tickets so Jon and Richie could buy more hair product.
Then I noticed the group my friend included me with on the e-mail. They're not exactly what I would call the most cutting-edge cluster on the planet. Nice people, sure, but several seem the type who are looking forward to getting the AARP magazine in the mail when they turn 50.
I shared this tidbit with Rommie:
I don't know whether to be honored that she thought of me, or insulted that I am in this group of people for this type of music.
Easy mistake to make with your Jersey accent and all.
Dude, you just got lumped in with some of the biggest squares in the company.
So, it was a little disconcerting when I got this e-mail today:
Expose'. On CBS. DVR.
Quite the combination.
Clearly, God is sending me a message. It's no burning bush or stone tablet, but there is a message: You are old. You had no musical taste for the better part of a decade. There is no appropriate pennance. This is your punishment.
In case you were wondering:
About Exposť: Exposť, the Arista Records freestyle pop-dance trio, ruled the '80s and '90s and was the Destiny's Child of the time. They generated highly combustible dance grooves and gut-wrenching ballads with vocal powerhouses Jeanette Jurado, Ann Curless and Gioia Bruno. Exposť, formed by record producer and songwriter Lewis A. Martineť, caught fire with their first album, released in 1986, titled Exposure. The album reeled off a string of major hits, including Billboard Top-Ten's 'Come Go With Me,' 'Point of No Return,' and 'Let Me Be the One' as well as the number one mega-hit ballad 'Seasons Change.' The album itself achieved multi-platinum status.
Okay, I don't remember anything past this point. I'm sure they had a lovely career, but the combination of White Russians and McDLT's that choked my body during the 1980s conspire to fog my brain.
I have no great love for the '80s. It can all go pretty much straight to hell as far as I'm concerned. The fact that that the decade is romanticized astounds me.
Is there anyone I'd pay to see from that era? Sure, but they'd have to be true iconoclasts, artists who truly left their mark.
Like these guys:
I am now a widget.
For the record, I hate that term. Sounds like a mixture of a wigger and a midget.
Perhaps Messr. Galifianakis knows Capt. Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters?
It's Cinco de Mayo. When you own a blog on which much has been made about the wearing of oversized Mexican headgear, that day means more than, say, Tres de Mayo or even Ocho de Mayo.
So, on behalf of Side Salad's staff, allow me to wish you a very heartfelt and sincere Happy Made-Up Mexican Holiday So That Anglos Can Have An Excuse To Drink Day.
This is Vidisha. She likes to climb trees.