Humor

When the funniest thing you've written in weeks



turns out to be a typo



maybe it's time to take a break for a little while.

P.S. You really need to check out that song.

1980

On Tuesday night, I did another one of my Nameless Twitter Radio Shows. This week's theme was songs from albums released in 1980. Here's the playlist:

1. (Just Like) Starting Over by John Lennon and Yoko Ono (me)
2. Antmusic by Adam & The Ants (me)
3. Pop Muzik by M (For A Different Kind Of Girl)
4. You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC (FlipFlopsChels)
5. Don't Stand So Close To Me by The Police (The Shambleyqueen's Xanga Site)
6. Games Without Frontiers by Peter Gabriel (Dereksmommissy)
7. You May Be Right by Billy Joel (Cool Zebras)
8. Start! by The Jam (Motherbumper)
9. Stories For Boys by U2 (Left Coast Mama)
10. Happy House by Siouxsie And The Banshees (Scurvyann)
11. Touch And Go by The Cars (Connecticut Mom)
12. Do You Remember Rock 'N' Roll Radio? by The Ramones (My A Cup Runneth Over)
13. Redemption Song by Bob Marley (Mommy Mae)
14. Love Stinks by The J. Geils Band (The Stiletto Mom)
15. Brass In Pocket by The Pretenders (Marla Monjardo)
16. Talk To Me by Kiss (me)
17. Turn It On Again by Genesis (ClumberKim)
18. Guilty by Barbara Streisand and Barry Gibb (Citizen Of The Month)
19. Holiday In Cambodia by Dead Kennedys (TwoBusy)
20. Wango Tango by Ted Nugent (The Imperfect Parent)
21. Xanadu by Olivia Newton-John and E.L.O. (Surveysmith)
22. Romeo And Juliet by Dire Straits (Sashalyn)
23. Boys Don't Cry by The Cure (Whiskey In My Sippy Cup)
24. London Calling by The Clash (Game Finance)
25. Turning Japanese by The Vapors (For A Different Kind Of Girl)
26. Mirror In The Bathroom by The English Beat (Where Am I Going… And Why Am I In This Handbasket?)
27. Any Way You Want It by Journey (FlipFlopsChels)
28. Kiss On My List by Hall & Oates (The Imperfect Parent)
29. The Winner Takes It All by ABBA (me)
30. Fever by The Cramps (me)
    

I'd like to thank everyone for coming out and listening and/or requesting songs. Next week, we'll be playing songs from albums that debuted in 1981. Hope to see you then.

Grace In Small Things: Part 58 of 365

Things that make me happy:

1. Spring training (because it means the real thing is near).
2. The platypus.
3. The Amazing Race (yup, I'm the only person on Earth who watches it).
4. I don't have a cousin Yuri (did I mention I can't wait until April 6th?).
5. The lady in the Progressive Auto Insurance ads.

Question of the day: Is Eliza Dushku hot enough to get me to watch Dollhouse? I can't stand sci-fi. But I do like watching Eliza Dushku in the commercials for the show.

The Hat Lady (Part Three)

If you missed the earlier installments, here are links to Part One and Part Two.

*****

Shirley's living room surprised Joshua. He was expecting to find the place teeming with hats and cats, cats and hats. What he found was a modest condo decorated with pictures of Shirley and Gene.

She must have her press clippings hanging up in another room. I bet she's built a little shrine to herself.

Shirley led him into the kitchen. "Have a seat, Mr. Miller. Would you like some tea?"

"Sure."

Joshua noticed the two place settings on the table. He chose the seat near the window. He watched as she put away the groceries, scanning the room for a weapon. I could knock her out with that pan when she turns her back and use that butcher knife to finish the job.

"Oh, no," she said, looking up. "That's my husband's seat."

"You remarried?"

"No."

Joshua got up and moved to another seat. He looked around at the pictures on the wall. No matter where he looked, Gene was staring at him.

"Would you like to start the interview while I finish with the groceries?" she asked.

"Um, sure." Joshua fumbled around in his coat pockets and brought out his pen and notebook. He put his tape recorder in the middle of the table and hit the Record button.

"So Mrs. Gentry, I heard a rumor that you turned down an invitation from David Letterman to appear on his show. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Really?" Joshua shot back in disbelief. This old lady could've been really famous. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Truthfully, I didn't want any more attention."

What?

"At first, it was nice having people saying hello to me on the streets. But when people I've known for years started calling me The Hat Lady, that's when things became a little uncomfortable. I didn't like the attention."

I've seen you around town, basking in the attention. Save that line for a tourist. "Doesn't everyone like attention?"

"Yes, but for the right reasons. I was a librarian for forty-two years. During that time, I helped many people. I would much rather be remembered for my years of service to the community than as the owner of hats."

She's bullshitting me. Her fame's fleeting so now she's trying to appear all humble. "But c'mon, you had to like the freebies people gave you, right?"

"Everybody loves to be treated to a free meal every now and then, especially when you're on a fixed income. I loved it the first time a restaurateur offered to pay my bill--"

Finally the truth comes out!

"But I tried my best to turn down every offer after that. I felt that if I took a free cup of coffee or a BLT from someone, I could never enter their establishment again. They would think I was looking for another free meal--"

She has a point.

"--And when you think about it, giving someone a free meal because they own a lot of hats is ridiculous."

Joshua could feel his hatred for her diminishing. "I agree. So how many hats do you have nowadays? You must have over five hundred by now."

"Thirty-three."

"Five hundred and thirty-three? That's a lot of hats! Where do you keep them all?"

"No. Thirty-three hats."

"Thirty-three? What happened to all your hats?"

Shirley sat down at the table across from Joshua and handed him a glass a tea. "After I was on the news, several local charities asked me to donate hats for auctions. But lately, Claudia's nephew has been selling them on his computer to raise money for the Foundation. People from all over the world come to his computer to buy my hats. I don't understand how he does it, but I know the Foundation wouldn't exist without his help."

"Foundation?"

"The Gene Gentry Memorial Cancer Foundation. I set it up about eight months ago. With the help of some local doctors, we educate people about the symptoms of colon cancer and advocate early screenings. We're hoping to raise enough money for a free screening in a few months."

"Why colon cancer?"

"Gene had inoperable colon cancer when he died. He was in a lot of pain and it was really just a matter of time." She stopped and brushed a tear from her cheek. "Gene was never much for doctors. I would nag him every few months, trying to get him to have a physical. I used to get so mad at him! But when he got really sick and started losing all that weight, he finally agreed to go to the doctor. But it was too late at that point."

Joshua grabbed her hand and said, "Go on." Joshua was no longer sitting across from The Hat Lady. He was having tea with Shirley Gentry.

She started crying. Joshua moved to the seat next to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Sometimes," she continued, "I think the accident was a good thing. It saved him from months of suffering."

She leaned into his chest. "I hate those hats! I want to be Shirley Gentry again! I'd burn them all to have one more day with Gene!"

Joshua stroked her hair. "When Claudia's nephew is done," she wailed, "I'll own three hats: my first hat, the hat I was wearing when I met Gene, and the hat I was wearing when I buried him!"

Shirley pulled herself away from Joshua. She wiped the tears from her eyes and tamed her hair. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Miller. You must think I'm a lunatic by the way I'm carrying on."

"No, not at all. In fact, I've gained a whole new respect for you today."

"Good. Thanks. I think it's time to wrap this up. Can you mention the Foundation in your article?"

"Yes, ma'am. I will definitely mention the Foundation."

Shirley walked Joshua to the door and hugged him goodbye. He walked to his car and stared at himself in the rearview mirror. He looked over and saw the tape recorder on the passenger seat.

He started the car and sped out of the parking lot. He hit the highway and raced toward his destination. He looked at his watch and said, "Damn it all! I'm not going to make it in time!"

He pulled into the parking deck at 4:52 PM. He ran into the office and up to the receptionist's desk. "Hello. I'm Joshua Miller and I'm a writer."

"That's nice, sweetie," the receptionist replied. "Would you like a subscription to The Philadelphia Inquirer? It's only fifty-seven cents a day. If you use the Save-A-Lot coupon on page two every day, the paper practically pays for itself."

"What? Huh? No," Joshua stammered. "I need to speak to your editor. I have a great idea for a story. Do you remember The Hat Lady?"

So Today Sucked

My Weekend With Twitter

Over the weekend, I made the decision to try to be less of a prick when it comes to Twitter, so I followed everyone who follows me unless they were trying to sell me something.

As I was looking through the list of people that follow me, I found three people that follow only me and no one else, which is more than just a little bit freaky. You know what this means, don't you?

They're droids sent from the future to destroy me!

Or the government is keeping tabs on me. AGAIN!

As a result, I have to be a little more selective on what I say on Twitter. For now on, only read every third word of each tweet. It'll be our secret code, ok?

SUCK IT, DROIDS/GOVERNMENT AGENTS!

AND DON'T FORGET

I'm planning the roast of FADKOG from …For A Different Kind Of Girl. If you're interested in joining the fun, leave your name in the comments of this post.

The Roast Of FADKOG

The people have spoken!

FADKOG from ...For A Different Kind Of Girl has graciously accepted the invitation to be the victim/honoree in our next blogger roast! Ms. Bono's funny and good-natured, so I'm sure she'll have a blast with this.

If you'd like to be involved in the roast of FADKOG, please leave a comment below. If you're selected to participate in the roast (that's FADKOG's job), you'll be asked to take humorous shots at FADKOG, your fellow roasters, and me.

Time For Another Roast!

I had a lot of fun with the roast of the Redneck Mommy and I hope everyone enjoyed reading and/or participating. I think it's time to do another roast. Interested?

If you would like to nominate the next victim person to be roasted, please leave his/her name and URL in the comments. And if you're brave enough to be roasted, by all means, step up to the plate and leave your own name and URL in the comments. Thanks!

Songs About Songs

On Tuesday night, I did another one of my Nameless Twitter Radio Shows. This week's theme was songs that mention other songs' titles/lyrics. Here's the playlist:

1. Punk Rock 101 by Bowling For Soup (me)
2. Writing To Reach You by Travis (me)
3. All Summer Long by Kid Rock (Dereksmommissy)
4. It's My Life by Bon Jovi (FlipFlopsChels)
5. Let's Go All The Way by Sly Fox (For A Different Kind Of Girl)
6. Ashes To Ashes by David Bowie (Savvy Source)
7. Thunder Road by Bruce Springsteen (ClumberKim)
8. D'You Know What I Mean? by Oasis (My A Cup Runneth Over)
9. Rest In Peace by Extreme (Seriously Mama)
10. God by John Lennon (me)
11. God, Pt. 2 by U2 (For A Different Kind Of Girl)
12. On The Radio by Regina Spektor (me)
13. American Pie by Don McLean (Notes From The Bunker)
14. Van Halen by Nerf Herder (For A Different Kind Of Girl)
15. Let's Dance To Joy Division by The Wombats (me)
16. Calm Before The Storm by Fall Out Boy (My A Cup Runneth Over)
17. Peace And Love by Fountains Of Wayne (The Blog At 16th And Q)
18. I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor by Arctic Monkeys (me)
19. Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival (FlipFlopsChels)
20. Good Times by INXS & Jimmy Barnes (me)
21. Punk Rock Girl by The Dead Milkmen (me)
22. Glass Onion by The Beatles (Sarah And The Goon Squad)
23. Bleed Like Me by Garbage (me)
24. Shangri-La by Electric Light Orchestra (me)
25. Raised On Radio by Journey (me)
26. Funky Cold Medina by Tone-Loc (me)
    

I'd like to thank everyone who dropped by to listen and/or request songs. Next week, we'll be playing songs from albums that came out in 1980.

And if you'd like to create the theme for an upcoming show and pick five songs for that show (with all proceeds going to charity), the details are here.

The Hat Lady (Part Two)

If you missed part one, please click here and read it first. Thanks!

*****

Joshua Miller despised The Hat Lady with every ounce of his being. He hated the way people fawned all over her. He watched in disgust as people held doors open for her and greeted her on the street. He cringed every time he saw a teller open up a lane for her at the bank. When Joshua's favorite pizza parlor, Tony's Pizza & Subs, placed an autographed photo of The Hat Lady by the cash register, he stopped eating there.

It wasn't that Joshua hated famous people. Like everyone else in America, he worshiped at the altar of celebrity. You could find him at the cinema every time a new film premiered that starred his favorite actor, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. He bought every new release by his favorite bands. He watched his Eagles play every Sunday afternoon. But these were real celebrities. These people were famous for their talents, not for collecting hats.

Joshua believed he should be the one known around town. He should be the one in the newspaper. It was his picture that should be hanging at Tony's Pizza & Subs.

Joshua was a writer. And a damn fine one, too. His friends would sit around for hours as Joshua read his latest tale. As he told his story, the women would move closer and closer until they were practically on his lap by the time he got to the ending. His words were an aphrodisiac. If it was a sad story, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. A funny story would leave his listeners' sides aching from laughing so hard. His friends would stay for hours afterward, sipping wine and discussing Joshua's latest opus.

At least that's how Joshua imagined his life. The truth is, no one knew Joshua was a writer.

No one knew Joshua at all.

Joshua Miller led a fairly solitary existence. The only person he spoke to on a regular basis was Nancy Jameson, the elderly woman whose basement apartment Joshua rented. He ate dinner with her every Wednesday night. It was a fair trade: he received a home-cooked meal in exchange for listening to Nancy tell of the recent deaths of people she knew and the various maladies of those still living. But Joshua didn't mind; her turkey pot pie more than made up for it.

Joshua worked at the textile mill on the outskirts of town. Because of the noise, the only time he could converse with his co-workers was during breaks and lunch. But since he didn't have much in common with the women who popped out way too many kids entirely too soon and the ex-jocks intent on reliving their glory days on the softball diamond, half of which still referred to him as "Pizza Puke," a name bestowed upon him after an unfortunate lunchroom incident in the sixth grade, this was not really an option. Joshua often sat alone in the corner of the break room, his nose in a book, peering up every so often to check the bulletin board.

At first glance, this bulletin board was like any other bulletin board in any other break room in the country. But this one held Joshua Miller's published work. Every month, he produced a company newsletter which detailed promotions, birthdays, anniversaries, and other minutiae, items no one except those mentioned cares to read. Joshua would stare at the newsletter, which went largely unnoticed amongst the flyer touting experienced babysitting services and another advertising a slightly used futon, waiting for someone, anyone, to walk up to the bulletin board and read his words, as if he were expecting the reader to turn around and say, "Who wrote this… this… masterpiece? I've seen plenty of company newsletters in my time, but this one is truly magnificent! I must meet the author!"

"That'll be $14.11," the cashier said.

"Huh?" Joshua was too busy watching George fend off another bagboy for the privilege of carrying The Hat Lady's groceries to the car.

"$14.11, please."

"Ok." Joshua mumbled as he fumbled for his wallet.

As he walked to his car, Joshua noticed George standing beside The Hat Lady's car. "Thank you, Miss Gentry. It sure was nice taking to you today. You drive safely and come back to see us!" George said.

Joshua had finally had enough. "This is bullshit," he thought. "This old woman shouldn't be famous. I'm the one who should be famous!" Jealousy had reared its ugly head and wanted blood.

Joshua got in his car and followed her Buick. "Goddamn it! I'm so tired of all this Hat Lady crap! It's time to put an end to it!"

He turned up the radio and lit a cigarette. "Wait! How in the hell am I supposed to get inside her house? Think, think, think!"

He looked over at the passenger's seat and noticed his tape recorder, the one he used to record plot outlines and character expositions. As he followed her into the Arbor Manor Condominiums' parking lot, Joshua decided to pose as a reporter to gain entry into her home. He decided to use her love of celebrity to put an end to it.

"Ma'am? Are you The Hat Lady? Ma'am?" Joshua asked as he ran to her car.

"That's what they call me. But you can call me Mrs. Gentry."

"Hello, Mrs. Gentry. I'm Joshhhhh... Smith. I'm from The Daily Local and we'd like to do another piece on you. It's been eighteen months since we last interviewed you and our readers would like to know what you're up to these days."

"Oh, my. I don't know…"

"Please, Mrs. Gentry. It'll only take a few moments."

"Ok. Can I can trouble you to bring a bag?" she asked as she nodded toward her trunk.

"Sure thing!"

As he got to the door, Joshua turned and surveyed the parking lot. No one was watching.

Joshua closed the door behind him.

*****

More later.

And unlike last time, this is a cliffhanger.

Give A Little Bit

Matthew from Childs Play x2 works for the Border View YMCA of San Diego County. Every year, he raises money for the many fine services they provide. This year, he decided to ask some of his blogging friends to donate items for an auction. Some people came up with some really awesome stuff.

Want to know some of the items you can bid on?

• 20 pounds of cookies from Bite My Cookie (I've had these and they're delicious!).
• An autographed copy of Rockabye and a link on her website from Girl's Gone Child.
• A Mets game with Looky, Daddy!
• A month of advertising on Sarah And The Goon Squad.
• A month of advertising on Busy Mom.
• A set of Monster Turbine In-Ear speakers from A Family Runs Through It.
• A Flip Mino camcorder.
• A pass for the 2009 BlogHer Conference.
• Dinner with Shamu and passes to Sea World, San Diego.
• Round-trip airfare to Ft. Lauderdale and a five-day cruise to Jamaica and Grand Cayman. The coolest part? Queensryche, Tesla, Skid Row, and some other bands will be performing on this cruise. Rock!
• And more!
  

I wanted to offer something for the auction, but didn't really have any clue what to donate. Matthew suggested that I donate something related to my Nameless Twitter Radio Show. It seemed like a fun idea, so here's what you'll get if you're the winning bidder on my auction:

• For an upcoming edition of Chag's Nameless Twitter Radio Show, you get to pick the theme.
• For that show, it will be Your Name's Nameless Twitter Radio Show. I will plug you and your site (if you have one) on the Nameless Twitter Radio Show and on my website.
• You get to pick the first two songs of the show, two songs to be played at the top of the second hour, and the final song played during the show.
  

So to recap: you get to create the theme for the show, pick five songs for the show, and get your website plugged on the show and my website.

Bidding starts at $20. (Please, someone bid on this! I don't want to be the only loser who doesn't get any bids!) Much thanks to Seriously Mama for opening the bidding and not making me look like a loser!

To bid on my auction, click here.

To view and bid on the other auctions, click here.

Thank you for supporting the Border View YMCA of San Diego County!

While Mom's @ Work

My monthly column over at Imperfect Parent is now online. This month, I wrote about my daughter and I attending our very first Valentine's Day dance.

If you'd like, please read More Carrie Than Cinderella and let me know what you think. Thanks!

Friday The 13th

My wife and I went to see a matinee of the new (old?) Friday The 13th flick on Sunday. We were celebrating our wedding anniversary and Valentine's Day. But since we were also celebrating my birthday, I had the final say in what movie we saw. So good-bye He's Just Not That Into You and hello Friday The 13th.

Based on the title, one might believe it was a remake of the initial installment of the series. Nope.

While it does contain elements of the original Friday The 13th, it also had a bit of Friday The 13th Part III. But for the most part, it draws heavily from Friday The 13th Part II. That said, it contains just what you'd expect from any Friday The 13th movie: senseless violence, gratuitous nudity, drug use, alcohol use, and plenty of cursing.

I enjoyed it but I had two problems with the movie:

• In the new movie, Jason ran after one of his victims.
  Jason does not run after his prey. Jason walks, stalking his prey as he/she runs in circles, screams, and trips over logs and crap. Eventually, Jason catches up to his prey and kills him/her. Jason doesn't need a pair of Nikes to get the job done.
  
• There were kids in the theater.
  I'm not talking about snotty little teens and preteens. I counted four children, aged 3-6, at this movie with their parents. What the hell is wrong with you people?
  

An Open Letter To The Guy Holding Up The Redbox Line On Saturday Night

Dear Guy Holding Up The Redbox Line On Saturday Night--

Like you, I love me some Redbox. You can't beat $1 movie rentals! Hell, you can get a movie, a bag of chips, and a two-liter for the price of a large bag of popcorn at the movie theater.

But unlike you, I actually research Redbox's offerings before stepping up to the kiosk. Maybe I'm just a bit on the anal side or maybe I just value other people's time as much as I do my own, but I go to Redbox's website and see what movies are available beforehand. I shout out titles to my wife and we pick out three movies and hope one of them is available by the time we get to the store.

But not you, Mr. Rebel! After waiting for the person in front of you to make her selection, you strutted on up to the kiosk, hit the button to view the movies available, and then called your girlfriend/boyfriend/friend/asshole like you who doesn't seem to care about anyone else.

Did you not notice the huffing and puffing and feet shuffling behind you as you read EVERY SINGLE GODDAMNED TITLE AVAILABLE to the person on the other line? I think you were at least somewhat aware of the situation behind you because you seemed to speed up a bit as you got to the Ms and even started skipping the children's titles at that point. Good call!

However, when you actually started READING PLOT SYNOPSES? That, my friend, took some serious cojones. I really thought the lady two spots behind me was going to stab you at that point, but she just cursed and stormed off instead.

In the future, please do the rest of us a favor and research the movies online before you get to the grocery store. This will prevent you from getting killed.

And from renting stupid crap like The Love Guru.

Hugs & Kisses,
Chag

Showering The Redneck Mommy

Some fine folks have gotten together to throw Tanis from Attack Of The Redneck Mommy a baby shower. Only it's not for a baby. It's for the five-year-old boy she and her husband recently adopted. It takes a truly special and loving family to adopt a child with special needs. You guys are remarkable people, Tanis!

The participants of this shower were asked to answer one question: what makes you a redneck mommy or daddy? I've got to tell you: I'm not as much of a redneck as I used to be. I married up, so my wife does a pretty good job of keeping my redneck tendencies in check. But here are some things I still do that some may consider to be redneck:

• Shop at Wal-Mart. Yeah, I know we're not supposed to shop at Wal-Mart. Save the sermon, preacher man. While I don't make a weekly thing out of it, I have been known to drop in when I need something quick and cheap.
• Dress in flannel. Once the temperature gets below sixty, you'll find me dressed in a t-shirt underneath a flannel shirt. And pants, of course.
• Listen to redneck music. While I don't constantly listen to hair bands, I will pop a CD into the car every once in awhile, despite my wife's moaning.

Of course, there were plenty of things I did when I was younger that one might consider to be redneck:

• Fish. I used to fish all the damn time. It's fun and relaxing. I need to get reaquainted with my rod.
• I was in 4-H. I've reared countless pigs and sheep.
• I was a livestock judge and even won awards. It's safe to say I know my way around a sheep.
• For fun in high school, my friends and I would go crusining. For people who actually had lives, cruising is when you drive up and down the same half-mile stretch of road for several hours. Hundreds of other teenagers in my town participated in this social masturbation.
  

Once again, congratulations Tanis! And congratulations to your little boy as well! He's very lucky to be welcomed into such a caring family.

P.S. Between this post and the roast of Tanis, I think I've written more about her in 2009 than I have my own kids.

Songs About Musicians

I did another one of Nameless Twitter Radio Shows on Monday night. This week's theme was songs that mention other musicians/bands. Here's the playlist:

1. 1985 by Bowling For Soup (me)
2. Genius Of Love by Tom Tom Club (me)
3. Smoke On The Water by Deep Purple (Childs Play x2)
4. Surrender by Cheap Trick (For A Different Kind Of Girl)
5. Fire Water Burn by Bloodhound Gang (Text Imps)
6. My Sister by The Juliana Hatfield Three (Mr. Big Dubya)
7. Roll Over Beethoven by The Beatles (Honea Express)
8. Do You Remember Rock 'N' Roll Radio? by Ramones (Dereksmommissy)
9. You Better You Bet by The Who (Halushki)
10. Extra Ordinary by Better Than Ezra (Sashalyn)
11. Hey Nineteen by Steely Dan (Parentopia)
12. Shooting Star by Bad Company (Cool Zebras)
13. Sir Duke by Stevie Wonder (Mom-101)
14. Angel Of Harlem by U2 (Chunkybumble)
15. Ballrooms Of Mars by T. Rex (me)
16. Bobcaygeon by The Tragically Hip (Where Am I Going… And Why Am I In This Handbasket?)
17. Let There Be Rock by Drive-By Truckers (Backpacking Dad)
18. All The Young Dudes by Mott The Hoople (FlipFlopsChels)
19. Her Eyes by Pat Monahan (Tell Me About It)
20. Runnin' Down A Dream by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers (Spellweavers)
21. Brian Wilson by Barenaked Ladies (The Weirdgirl)
22. Radar Love by Golden Earring (For A Different Kind Of Girl)
23. Bruce by Rick Springfield (Tell Me About It)
24. Country Heroes by Hank Williams III (Text Imps)
25. Lookin' Out My Back Door by Creedence Clearwater Revival (me)
26. Mr. Jones by Counting Crows (me)
27. Oxford Comma by Vampire Weekend (me)
28. Goody Two Shoes by Adam Ant (me)
    

I'd like to thank everyone who came out and listened and/or requested songs. The show will be back on Tuesday nights starting next week. Next week's theme is songs that mention the titles or lyrics from other songs. Got it? Hope to see you there.

Be My Valentine

I listen to a lot of sports talk radio. This week has been a major OD on A-Rod. But believe it or not, that hasn't been the #1 topic this week.

I've also heard tons of commercials for Valentine's Day.

As usual, there have been many commercials for various floral companies. But I've also heard commercials for teddy bears. Who the hell wants a teddy bear for Valentine's Day besides my six-year-old daughter?

But the new kid on the block this year is pajamas. Forty times a day, I hear a commercial about giving the woman in your life pajamas for Valentine's Day.

Seriously? Teddy bears and pajamas? Whatever happened to lingerie, candy, and vibrators?

When did pajamas become romantic gifts? Hell, when I go to Target, half of the women I see under the age of 30 are wearing pajama bottoms.

But hey, if you want to buy pajamas for the woman in your life, go for it. I won't stop you. Hell, I'll even help you out. Use this number: 1-800-GIVE-PJS. I don't know the name of the company, but I've heard that commercial so many times in the past week I have the number committed to memory.

And if you're looking for the perfect Valentine's Day gift for the man in your life, just replace the P with a B in the phone number above.

The Hat Lady (Part One)

"George! It's The Hat Lady!" shouted an enthusiastic female voice.

Joshua looked up from the tabloid headlines and turned his attention to the adjoining lane. The checkout girl was beaming at the elderly woman in the pillbox hat.

Bitch.

Shirley Gentry was the closest thing the town of Exton could claim as a celebrity. She was the librarian at Chester County Library's main branch for forty-two years. She assisted every patron with equal amounts of zeal, be it the person looking for a trashy novel, the middle school student writing a report on the Bismarck, or the young woman working on her GED. Likening herself to a surgeon or a paramedic, Shirley was fond of saying, "Words change lives. Words save lives."

Words also take lives. Shirley's husband, Gene Gentry, died three days after the low-key ceremony honoring Shirley's retirement. Gene, the proud owner of Gene's Chevy Emporium, was built like a fire hydrant with the personality of a firecracker. Located off Highway 30, Gene's Chevy Emporium was once Exton's premier car dealership. The completion of the Highway 30 Bypass shifted the economic center of town seven miles to the north. Unable to afford the prices for land off the new bypass, Gene was forced to reinvent himself as Generous Gene and rechristen his business Generous Gene's Used Auto Emporium, the kind of place adorned with streamers, inflatable monkeys, and banners with catchphrases like "Bad Credit? No Credit? No Problem!" Gene became a quasi-celebrity due to his over-the-top television commercials, which often involved hideously tacky props and costumes including, in one ill-fated ad, an XXL tutu. Gene's late-night acting career was tragically cut short when his Accord was hit by a pickup truck, its driver too busy glancing at his newspaper and talking on the cell phone to notice that his light had turned red seven seconds ago.

After an appropriate grieving period, Shirley immersed herself in clubs: book clubs, gardening clubs, and even a walking club which haunted Exton Square Mall before business hours. She would often meet friends for meals or coffee. "The girls," as she called them, were a group of widows that shared common interests, chief amongst which was combating loneliness. Her social calendar was filled with activities that would rival any retirement center, only without the bedpans, macramé, and the lingering stench of death.

To her friends, Shirley was just Shirley. This changed when Estelle Moore, a member of the widows' club, mentioned Shirley's hat collection to her son, Zachary, a reporter for The Philadelphia Inquirer. Thinking it would make a great human interest story, Zachary made the thirty-mile drive to Exton to interview Shirley and photograph her hats.

Pillbox hats. Cloche hats. Berets. Bonnets. Trilby hats. Beanies. Newsboy caps. Kentucky Derby hats. Fedoras. Leather hats. Fur hats. Cloth hats. Straw hats.

Shirley had 429 hats.

Like anyone's obsession with possessions, Shirley's hat habit started innocently enough. As a young girl, Shirley took the train with her mother, Audrey Hupp, for a weekend trip to New York City. Wanting something to commemorate their trip, Shirley's mother let her pick out a hat from Robert Dudley Originals. After what seemed like hours, Shirley finally settled on a red velvet beret.

Shirley adored the hat. She stored it in a flower-covered hatbox in the family coat closet. While she rarely wore it in public in fear of damaging the fine velvet, Shirley felt downright glamorous when she donned the beret and would often prance in front of the bathroom mirror, transforming into Shirley Hupp, Hollywood Starlet. After catching one of her daughter's impromptu performances, Mrs. Hupp bought Shirley a more sensible hat for everyday use. That Easter, Shirley's grandmother presented her with the most stunning yellow bonnet the young girl had ever seen.

Shirley was hooked. While most children spent their money on candy or movies, Shirley saved hers for hats. Every Saturday morning, she begged her mother to take her down to Woolworth's to see if a new shipment had arrived. Over the years, Shirley added to her collection on every holiday, vacation, and special occasion until she discovered, with Zachary Moore's assistance, that she was the proud owner of 429 hats.

Moore's article in The Philadelphia Inquirer dubbed her The Hat Lady and mentioned that she wore a hat to her job interview for Chester County Library. Believing it was a good luck charm, she wore a hat every day thereafter. The photo that accompanied the article showed Shirley standing next to four hat racks, with towers of hatboxes rising from the floor. A few days later, Action News, the ABC affiliate in Philadelphia, picked up the story and sent a camera crew to interview Shirley.

She was an instant celebrity. While most people in Exton couldn't tell you her name, they all knew she was The Hat Lady.

And it infuriated Joshua.

*****

More later.

P.S. This is not a cliffhanger. It's just all I had time to write today.

Today Is Off To A Great Start

It's officially Cynical Dad Day on the east coast!

Ella and the kids gave me my birthday present on Monday evening. It had just come in the mail and they were way too excited to wait until morning.

But first, some backstory.

Six months ago, my daughter started drawing musical instruments. One day, she drew a drummer behind a drum kit (which was really a hint to let us know she wanted a drum set for Christmas). I fell in love with the picture and told her it looked like a real drummer in a real rock band. She asked me to name a rock band, which she then wrote above the picture.

Fast forward to Monday evening when I received the world's coolest concert tee: my brand-new Guns N' Roses shirt!

Or in this case, Guns and Rosse.

ROCK!

Announcements

My Four Cents

I have finally started my own review blog, My Four Cents: Because My Opinion Is Worth Twice As Much As Yours. I kick things off with a review of DreamBox Learning K-2 Math.

Mark Your Calendar

Remember folks, Tuesday is Cynical Dad Day! Some people have already started celebrating. What are you waiting for?

Nameless Twitter Radio Show

This week's radio show will be on Monday (tonight!). The theme will be songs that mention bands or musicians.

Song Of The Day

On December 23, 2006, I began adding a Song Of The Day to every post. On January 31, 2009, it came to an end. During that time, I posted (with the assistance of others) 431 songs. I try to keep my archived song list as up-to-date as possible. But YouTube keeps pulling videos, so most of those links are no longer valid.

I may bring it back if things change over at YouTube, but for now, the feature is dead.

Competitive

We took the kids to the park today. I noticed a father and his eightish daughter. She was going across the monkey bars and she dropped as she got to the last one.

"What are you doing?" he yelled.

"I slipped." she said.

"Do it again!" he shouted.

So she went back to the start and tried again. Only this time, she fell off on the very first rung.

"What happened?" he screamed at her.

"My hands are sweaty!" she explained.

So what did he do? He berated her and then explained to her the "proper way" to go across the monkey bars. And then in case she wasn't getting it, he climbed up on the monkey bars and demonstrated it for her.

What the hell? Are the monkey bars an event in the 2012 Olympics and I'm just not aware of it?

Memories

Why would anyone bother saving phone messages from ex-lovers? Isn't that just a tad bit psycho?

Personally, I would always sweep the floor immediately after an ex-lover trimmed her toenails. I would save the clippings until we broke up, upon which time I would make myself a piece of jewelery (ring, bracelet, or necklace -- it would depend on the length of the relationship) from the clippings.

That's how you make lasting memories!

These Are The Quotes From Our Favorite '80s Movies

I did another one of my Nameless Twitter Radio Shows on Monday night. This week's theme was songs that mention movies or quote/sample lines from movies (but aren't theme songs). Here's the playlist:

1. Val Kilmer by Bowling For Soup (me)
2. Bicycle Race by Queen (me)
3. Scooby Snacks by Fun Lovin' Criminals (me)
4. Fast Times At Drop-Out High by The Ataris (me)
5. Medicine Show by Big Audio Dynamite (Coffeequeen)
6. Wonderful by Everclear (For A Different Kind Of Girl)
7. We're Not Gonna Take It by Twisted Sister (me)
8. Me So Horny by 2 Live Crew (me)
9. Breakfast At Tiffany's by Deep Blue Something (Mr. Big Dubya)
10. And We Danced by The Hooters (For A Different Kind Of Girl)
11. Chainsaw by The Ramones (me)
12. Just One Fix by Ministry (me)
13. Cornflake Girl by Tori Amos (Ovolina)
14. Too Much Blood by The Rolling Stones (Text Imps)
15. Thunder Kiss '65 by White Zombie (Whiskey In My Sippy Cup)
16. Love Missile F1-11 by Sigue Sigue Sputnik (me)
17. Civil War by Guns N' Roses (me)
18. Outshined by Soundgarden (ClumberKim)
19. One Week by Barenaked Ladies (Sashalyn)
20. High Plains Drifter by Beastie Boys (me)

This week's theme was harder than I thought it would be. I've got to apologize for that. It was so hard I couldn't even do the full two hours (fell 23 minutes short). But I would like to thank everyone who came out and listened and/or requested songs.

Next week's theme will be songs that mention musicians, which should be much easier than this past week's theme. And once again, this week's show will be on Monday evening (I'll be observing Cynical Dad Day on Tuesday). The show will return to its normal day and time on February 17th.

As always, if you have any ideas for themes for upcoming shows, please leave them in the comments. Thanks!

Giving Back

Sometimes, I feel I don't do enough for you guys. Sure, I answer all comments and emails I receive from you, but is that enough? Probably not.

I'm in a giving mood, so I've decided to do something special for all of you. In honor of my thirty-ninth birthday and the start of my final year of blogging (because no one's allowed to blog once they reach 40, right?), February 10th will be Cynical Dad Day!

So how do you get involved? Glad you asked.

Five Ways To Celebrate Cynical Dad Day

And if you really want to get crazy, you can do all five!

1. Write a post on your blog proclaiming your love for me and/or my blog.
   
   
2. Come here on February 10th and leave a comment proclaiming your love for me and/or my blog.
   
   
3. Place this nifty little graphic on your site:
   
   
   Either right click and save and upload it to your server or copy the following code and insert it into your template:
   
   <a href="http://www.cynicaldad.com/"><img src="http://cynicaldad.googlepages.com/cynical_dad_day.jpg" width="162" border="0" height="65" /></a>
   
   
4. Write a song in my honor.
   
   
5. The next time you and your partner are getting nasty, make sure one of you moans, "Ooh, Chag!" while in the throes of passion.

The possibilities are endless! With a little imagination, I'm sure you can think of your own creative way to observe Cynical Dad Day. Have fun with it!

Lux Interior Is Dead

Lux Interior, the lead singer of The Cramps, died today. The Cramps were a [insert adjective here] band. There's really no way to describe them. Punk. Garage. Rockabilly. Shock. Schlock. Horror. Yeah, all that and more.

As I mentioned on this site before, I was lucky enough to see The Cramps play at the Cat's Cradle in Chapel Hill on Valentine's Day many, many moons ago. It was a hell of a show. I even caught a wine cork that Lux Interior spit into the crowd.

Unfortunately, The Cramps were a band that did not get much acclaim. Hell, I just did a search on Google News and there were only 19 reports of his death out there on the Internet. Sad.

Here are ten songs by The Cramps for those who may not be familiar with the band or for those who want to remember the band:

Bikini Girls With Machine Guns
Can Your Pussy Do The Dog?
The Creature From The Black Leather Lagoon
Garbageman
Goo Goo Muck
I Was A Teenage Werewolf
Naked Girl Falling Down The Stairs
Surfin' Bird
What's Inside A Girl?
Zombie Dance

Done With Winter

The kids will be home from school on Wednesday for the second day in a row due to snow. The sad part is you can walk around in it without getting your ankles wet. It's hard enough making a decent snowball, let alone a snowman.

If it's going to snow, give me SNOW. If not, don't bother.

It Was Kind Of Like That Jeepers Creepers Movie, Except Without The Flying Monster Thing That Stored Bodies Underneath The Church

Did I ever tell you about the time when two guys tried to kill me?

When I was growing up, if you were the least bit different from everyone else, people would question your sexuality. Long hair, unnaturally-colored hair (pink, purple, orange, etc.), piercings in both ears, and brightly-covered clothes were things that would raise the ire of certain people in my town. It doesn't take much to piss some people off.

I was called every name in the book: f*g, f*gg*t, q*eer, g*y, ho-mo-sex-u-al (heavy emphasis on every syllable). If I had a dollar for every time I had one of those epithets hurled at me, I could've paid for some much-needed therapy for many ignorant and sexually-repressed individuals. There's way too much hate in this world. Too many of us think others are inferior or are worth hating because they are different: be it their looks, their religious beliefs, their political leanings, their sexuality, or the way they act. People suck.

Anyway, during this particular time, my car wasn't the most reliable vehicle. And when it broke down, I had to borrow my mom's Geo Tracker.

My mom's pink Geo Tracker.

One night, I went out to a bar with my brother and his girlfriend, Penelope. My brother was in the passenger seat and Penelope was in the backseat. It was two in the morning and we were headed home on the interstate. An old, beat-up truck pulled up next to us. From the corner of my eye, I noticed that it was keeping the same speed as our vehicle. Penelope yelled from the backseat, "Don't look at that truck!"

What the hell are you supposed to do when someone says something like that? Naturally, I immediately looked at the truck and saw two guys pointing at us and laughing.

Over the years, I have found it's easier and safer just to ignore people like this rather than engage them. So I turned back to my brother and started a conversation. About twenty seconds later, the truck finally accelerated and passed us.

Penelope spotted them first. "There's that truck!" About three miles down the road from our initial encounter, the truck was pulled over on the side of the interstate. As soon as we passed them, they revved their engine and pulled back onto the interstate.

Penelope turned around and watched the truck. "OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE THEY DOING?" she screamed. I pushed the accelerator of the Tracker to the floor, foolishly thinking I could outrun them with my moped engine. Penelope continued to give a play-by-play (like I wasn't staring at the rear view mirrow, watching the headlights closing in on us). "THEY'RE GETTING CLOSER! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL US!"

Even though it was two in the morning, there was still some traffic on the interstate. I had the Tracker going 85 (which is where the speedometer topped out at), weaving in and out of lanes, trying not to cause an accident.

Seconds before impact, Penelope screamed, "HERE THEY COME!" Then BOOM! They hit the back of my mom's car. I don't know why I didn't lose control of the vehicle. Penelope stared crying hysterically at this point. "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" Finally, my brother snapped at her, "SHUT UP AND LET HIM CONCENTRATE!" I was half-expecting him to slap her like they do in the movies. He picked up the car phone (the old kind, where the phone was actually mounted in the car) and called the police.

The impact caused the truck to slow down some, but it didn't stop him. He started closing in on us again. I didn't know what to do. I thought about pulling off on one of the exits, but figured that would just make us sitting ducks. The only option was to continue to drive, weave through the traffic, pray that the Tracker would find some untapped horsepower, not get us killed, and wait for the cops to come.

BOOM! The truck hit us again. Penelope didn't make a sound. She was sitting in the backseat with her head between her legs. I think she was in shock. Or nauseated. "They just hit us again!" my brother yelled into the phone.

Once again, we were able to stay on the road. The truck pulled back some. I thought he was finally bored with us. But then I saw the headlights come speeding at us again. Finally, at the last second, he swerved and pulled off the ramp.

I was beyond pissed at this point. I wanted to turn the car around and track the son of a bitch down. But I realized that would definitely get us killed so I went on to the next exit and pulled off into a truck stop.

The highway patrolman met us about ten minutes later. By that point, I had already chain-smoked half a carton of cigarettes and cursed everyone in the world. Penelope was back to being a blubbering mess, thanking me for not getting us killed.

But I did learn a few things that night. Like Rain Man, I'm an excellent driver. And cops will put up with a lot of verbal abuse if you've just been through an extreme amount of stress.

Thoughts On Super Bowl XLIII

Thoughts after watching Super Bowl XLIII:

• Buy some Doritos (just watch out for buses).
• I still hate the Budweiser Clydesdale horses.
• Year One looks awful.
• Wild horses won't keep me away from Land Of The Lost.
• Bruce Springsteen should have worn a cup (did you see that slide he did into the camera?).
• Bruce Springsteen should not have pandered to the crowd so much (changing the lyrics of Glory Days and the whole lame thing with the referee).
• Alan picked Springsteen's setlist correctly (read the comments of this post).
• The NFL mandated that Pittsburgh would win this game. Nevermind the ticky-tacky penalties called on Arizona throughout the game -- how was Arizona's final play not reviewed?
• Even though I picked the wrong winning team, I still picked correctly against the spread. I am now 15-6-1 (.705) over the past two postseasons. Maybe I should only pick postseason games and forget about the regular season. Or get a 888 number.
• Larry Fitzgerald is a man among boys.
• I would love to have Mike Tomlin coach the Panthers. He seems to be the perfect balance of players' coach and hardass.
• This post was created while I was under the influence. Please excuse all grammatical/spelling errors.