Ah December, when the air turns crisp and cold, the Northeast turns into a winter wonderland, and for those of us who grew up in the 1970s (and later), the one time of year when we can watch those beloved, cheesy stop-motion Christmas TV classics from Rankin/Bass Productions, whose songs we all know by heart (despite ourselves).
*TiVo/DVR alert! ABC is airing Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town (that's the one with the Burgermeister Meisterburger and Fred Astaire as the narrator) at 8 p.m. ET tonight!*
From Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (who could forget Hermey the Misfit Elf, who longed to be a dentist, or Yukon Cornelius?) to Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town, to Frosty the Snow Man (which featured the voice talent of Jimmy Durante), it just wasn't Christmas without a Rankin/Bass Production.
My favorite Rankin/Bass memory: watching and listening to the Miser Brothers, Snow Miser and Heat Miser, sing their signature song from The Year Without a Santa Claus (which featured the voice talents of Mickey Rooney and Shirley Booth, though not on this song):
*Another TiVo/DVR alert! ABC Family is airing The Year Without a Santa Claus on December 11 at 8 p.m. ET and on December 13 at 7 p.m. ET.*
We all had our favorite Rankin/Bass production. What was yours?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
I was tagged and now I have to tell you all six random things about me
What is this, eighth grade? A chain letter? Is something bad going to happen to me if I don't play along? Will Betty (aka "Betty Cracker"), the blogger who "tagged" me, find someone to leave a horse's head under my pillow if I cross her? Sigh.
Well, I wouldn't want to provoke Ms. Cracker, so here goes...
First, the SIX RANDOM THINGS RULES:
1. Link to the person who tagged you. (Check.)
2. Post the rules on your blog. (Check.)
3. Write six random things about yourself. (Check. See below.)
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them. (Check. See below that. Though a quibble here: This assumes you know six people who have their own blog, which is quite an assumption.)
Now, SIX RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME:
1. Despite what some people think, I am really good at keeping secrets -- at least secrets I think worth keeping.
2. I really like watching professional football, albeit my teams, the New York Giants and the New York Jets, even when by myself. (I used to really like watching professional basketball, too, back in the 1990s, when we lived in Chicago and the Bulls were the best -- so much so that I INSISTED on listening to a playoff game while in labor, only to have the doctor, a female, and my spouse insist we turn it off as it was distracting me from pushing. If we had had a boy, we may have had to have named him "Michael," even though Michaels are nothing but trouble.)
3. I love cars -- really fast, expensive ones, though I have never driven or been driven in one. I am particularly fond of old Aston Martins and Bugattis. And if I had $250,000 to spare and didn't care about gas mileage or safety I would seriously consider getting this baby, a 2009 Aston Martin DBS (even though I prefer the old Aston Martin DB5) or a Jaguar XK, even if it isn't as/so quick to accelerate.
4. I once had to ditch my panties while walking home from school on Park Avenue in New York City. As I turned the corner on 92nd or 91st street the elastic broke, and I had to duck behind the pillar of a church to remove my undergarment before it fell down. I then had to walk six more blocks, praying that a strong wind would not blow open my (typical NYC all-girl prep school issue) skirt.
5. I can't stand mayonnaise, salmon, or olives, though I love Russian dressing, salmon sushi, and olive oil. Go figure.
6. I know all the words to "Escape (the Pina Colada song)," or did:
I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long.
Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song.
So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed.
And in the personals column, there was this letter I read:
"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the lady you've looked for, write to me, and escape."
I didn't think about my lady, I know that sounds kind of mean.
But me and my old lady, had fallen into the same old dull routine.
So I wrote to the paper, took out a personal ad.
And though I'm nobody's poet, I thought it wasn't half-bad.
"Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
I'm not much into health food, I am into champagne.
I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape.
At a bar called O'Malley's, where we'll plan our escape."
So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place.
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face.
It was my own lovely lady, and she said, "Oh, it's you."
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, "I never knew"...
"That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
And the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."
"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."
I also know the lyrics to Rupert Holmes's "Him." I am not sure why.
Finally, who's next, or "it": Dave S. and EMM at Potpourri for $500, Melanie at BeanPaste, Tommy at Blah Blog Blah, Little Miss Cupcake over at Little Miss Cupcake, and Marindenver over at Rumproast. Surprise!
Well, I wouldn't want to provoke Ms. Cracker, so here goes...
First, the SIX RANDOM THINGS RULES:
1. Link to the person who tagged you. (Check.)
2. Post the rules on your blog. (Check.)
3. Write six random things about yourself. (Check. See below.)
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them. (Check. See below that. Though a quibble here: This assumes you know six people who have their own blog, which is quite an assumption.)
Now, SIX RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME:
1. Despite what some people think, I am really good at keeping secrets -- at least secrets I think worth keeping.
2. I really like watching professional football, albeit my teams, the New York Giants and the New York Jets, even when by myself. (I used to really like watching professional basketball, too, back in the 1990s, when we lived in Chicago and the Bulls were the best -- so much so that I INSISTED on listening to a playoff game while in labor, only to have the doctor, a female, and my spouse insist we turn it off as it was distracting me from pushing. If we had had a boy, we may have had to have named him "Michael," even though Michaels are nothing but trouble.)
3. I love cars -- really fast, expensive ones, though I have never driven or been driven in one. I am particularly fond of old Aston Martins and Bugattis. And if I had $250,000 to spare and didn't care about gas mileage or safety I would seriously consider getting this baby, a 2009 Aston Martin DBS (even though I prefer the old Aston Martin DB5) or a Jaguar XK, even if it isn't as/so quick to accelerate.
4. I once had to ditch my panties while walking home from school on Park Avenue in New York City. As I turned the corner on 92nd or 91st street the elastic broke, and I had to duck behind the pillar of a church to remove my undergarment before it fell down. I then had to walk six more blocks, praying that a strong wind would not blow open my (typical NYC all-girl prep school issue) skirt.
5. I can't stand mayonnaise, salmon, or olives, though I love Russian dressing, salmon sushi, and olive oil. Go figure.
6. I know all the words to "Escape (the Pina Colada song)," or did:
I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long.
Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song.
So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed.
And in the personals column, there was this letter I read:
"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the lady you've looked for, write to me, and escape."
I didn't think about my lady, I know that sounds kind of mean.
But me and my old lady, had fallen into the same old dull routine.
So I wrote to the paper, took out a personal ad.
And though I'm nobody's poet, I thought it wasn't half-bad.
"Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
I'm not much into health food, I am into champagne.
I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape.
At a bar called O'Malley's, where we'll plan our escape."
So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place.
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face.
It was my own lovely lady, and she said, "Oh, it's you."
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, "I never knew"...
"That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
And the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."
"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."
I also know the lyrics to Rupert Holmes's "Him." I am not sure why.
Finally, who's next, or "it": Dave S. and EMM at Potpourri for $500, Melanie at BeanPaste, Tommy at Blah Blog Blah, Little Miss Cupcake over at Little Miss Cupcake, and Marindenver over at Rumproast. Surprise!
Obama's dream team, John Mara's Giant nightmare
While President Elect Barack Obama and his advisers are no doubt hoping Congress doesn't shoot down any of his picks for National Security when they go to the Hill for confirmation hearings some time next year, the Giants are dealing with a star wide receiver who apparently was so concerned about being shot down in the VIP room of a Manhattan nightclub Friday night that he shot himself -- with a gun he did not have a permit to carry in New York City. (Hey, at least Obama had the good sense not to nominate this guy for any national or homeland security post, even if he does have a Super Bowl ring.)
So who did Obama pick for his National Security Dream Team? I know this will come as a HUGE surprise (to no one at this point) but he nominated Hillary Clinton for Secretary of State. (And could she have looked any more miserable while he made the announcement? Were those tears in the Secretary Elect's eyes?)
Rounding out the Obama National Security Team [insert Chicago Bulls' player introduction with Barack Obama's dream team edited in here] are Defense Secretary Robert Gates, retaining his current post; Eric Holder as attorney general; Arizona Gov. Janet Napolitano as homeland security secretary; Susan Rice (what is it about African-American chicks named Rice and international relations?) as United Nations ambassador; and retired Marine General Jim Jones as national security adviser at the White House.
Argue all you like about whether this is a change we can believe in or even much of a change (from the Clinton or Bush pere years), but I think it shows political savvy on Obama's part, in a lot of ways. However, only time -- and terrorists and whether we have more war or peace -- will tell.
Similarly only time (as in jail time) will tell what happens to Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress, who I will henceforth refer to as Burr-ASS, who surrendered himself to the authorities earlier today.
Per an article in today's NYTimes.com, "According to state law, a person carrying a gun without a permit faces 3 ½ to 15 years in prison if prosecutors prove that the person intended to use the weapon on another person. If intent to use cannot be proved, the person may still face felony charges that could result in up to seven years in prison."
Buh-bye, Plax. What a waste. (Guess you'll have lots of time for that hamstring to heal now, though, huh? Though I wonder if the Giants will actually fire Burr-ASS or just suspend him for a few games and will have to honor his $35 million/five-year contract.)
But do not fear Giants fans -- or mourn for Burr-ASS. As they showed yesterday with their 23 - 7 defeat of the Washington Redskins in Washington, in miserable weather, the G-Men, lead by quarterback Eli Manning, continue to prove they can win without the likes of Burr-ASS, Tiki Barber, Jeremy Shockey, and Michael Strahan, thank you very much. (I will not discuss the Jets pathetic loss to the Broncos yesterday at Giants Stadium, 34 - 17.)
Coming up next (or soon): What is it about Anderson Cooper that makes women (and men) want to throw their panties at/make cupcakes for him?
UPDATED 1:43 P.M.: Just read this excellent article by John Feinstein in The Washington Post, about professional athletes and guns. A must read.
So who did Obama pick for his National Security Dream Team? I know this will come as a HUGE surprise (to no one at this point) but he nominated Hillary Clinton for Secretary of State. (And could she have looked any more miserable while he made the announcement? Were those tears in the Secretary Elect's eyes?)
Rounding out the Obama National Security Team [insert Chicago Bulls' player introduction with Barack Obama's dream team edited in here] are Defense Secretary Robert Gates, retaining his current post; Eric Holder as attorney general; Arizona Gov. Janet Napolitano as homeland security secretary; Susan Rice (what is it about African-American chicks named Rice and international relations?) as United Nations ambassador; and retired Marine General Jim Jones as national security adviser at the White House.
Argue all you like about whether this is a change we can believe in or even much of a change (from the Clinton or Bush pere years), but I think it shows political savvy on Obama's part, in a lot of ways. However, only time -- and terrorists and whether we have more war or peace -- will tell.
Similarly only time (as in jail time) will tell what happens to Giants wide receiver Plaxico Burress, who I will henceforth refer to as Burr-ASS, who surrendered himself to the authorities earlier today.
Per an article in today's NYTimes.com, "According to state law, a person carrying a gun without a permit faces 3 ½ to 15 years in prison if prosecutors prove that the person intended to use the weapon on another person. If intent to use cannot be proved, the person may still face felony charges that could result in up to seven years in prison."
Buh-bye, Plax. What a waste. (Guess you'll have lots of time for that hamstring to heal now, though, huh? Though I wonder if the Giants will actually fire Burr-ASS or just suspend him for a few games and will have to honor his $35 million/five-year contract.)
But do not fear Giants fans -- or mourn for Burr-ASS. As they showed yesterday with their 23 - 7 defeat of the Washington Redskins in Washington, in miserable weather, the G-Men, lead by quarterback Eli Manning, continue to prove they can win without the likes of Burr-ASS, Tiki Barber, Jeremy Shockey, and Michael Strahan, thank you very much. (I will not discuss the Jets pathetic loss to the Broncos yesterday at Giants Stadium, 34 - 17.)
Coming up next (or soon): What is it about Anderson Cooper that makes women (and men) want to throw their panties at/make cupcakes for him?
UPDATED 1:43 P.M.: Just read this excellent article by John Feinstein in The Washington Post, about professional athletes and guns. A must read.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Is there such a thing as too much chocolate?
Rather than wax rhapsodic about turkey on this day of turkey, aka Thanksgiving, I thought I would discuss a food that we daily give thanks for, chocolate.
Ah, chocolate, made from the seeds of the tropical cacao tree, instrument of pleasure and even, occasionally, pain. Associated with virility and fertility, this product of the cacao bean has a long, rich history going back hundreds of years. And in Chicago this Wednesday, the spouse and I, along with our daughter, brother-in-law, sister-in-law, and two fellow (unrelated) chocoholics got to experience if not the ultimate chocolate fantasy certainly a chocoholics dream afternoon.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a Chicago Chocolate Tour, 90 minutes of chocolaty goodness in the Windy City (aka Obamaland) condensed into one blog post.
After meeting up at the main floor Concierge Desk at 900 N. Michigan Ave., on Chicago's Magnificent Mile, we headed upstairs to Teuscher Chocolates of Switzerland, home of "The best Champagne truffles on the planet," per Zagat -- and the J-TWO-O family:
Then we braved the wind and cold to go to More Cupcakes, a feast for the eyes and tummy, run by a mother of five. There we sampled chocolate/chocolate cream and chocolate/vanilla bean cupcakes:
After stumbling out of More Cupcakes in a sugar- and chocolate-induced haze, our band of merry chocolateers headed to Sarah's Candies & Pastries, the creation of longtime candy and pastry lover Sarah Levy (who is only in her 20s -- and proof that chocolate is the secret to happiness), where we got to watch a nice man enrobe candied orange peel in chocolate -- and then eat some.
After all that chocolate, things began to get a little fuzzy (and a little too milk chocolaty) for me. We headed to Water Tower Place, to Lindt, where I vaguely remember standing in front of The Wall of Truffles and eating an extra dark truffle and being cajoled to eat/buy more chocolate, and then stumbling out of the shop in search of some water, in a chocolate-induced haze.
Then we headed downstairs to the Frango store, where I did not even attempt to eat the chocolate-covered minty creations, though my daughter gamely downed both the original and limited-edition candy cane variety of Frango Mint (which has just not been the same since Macy's took over Marshall Field's, a Chicago institution).
Stumbling out of Water Tower Place we headed across several blocks to our final chocolate destination, Argo Tea, where we drank what can best be described as "liquid candy cane" but was some kind of white chocolate mint tea concoction, and were given samples of brownies, which, like the Frango Mints, I shoved into my goody bag.
Engorged with chocolate we waddled back to 900 N. Michigan and to our car -- and headed off to Whole Foods to do some last-minute Thanksgiving shopping.
And speaking of Thanksgiving, as I sit here in my heart-covered velveteen purple pajamas, I wish one and all a very happy and healthy Thanksgiving (one hopefully filled with at least a little dark chocolate, which as we now know is filled with healthy antioxidants).
Ah, chocolate, made from the seeds of the tropical cacao tree, instrument of pleasure and even, occasionally, pain. Associated with virility and fertility, this product of the cacao bean has a long, rich history going back hundreds of years. And in Chicago this Wednesday, the spouse and I, along with our daughter, brother-in-law, sister-in-law, and two fellow (unrelated) chocoholics got to experience if not the ultimate chocolate fantasy certainly a chocoholics dream afternoon.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a Chicago Chocolate Tour, 90 minutes of chocolaty goodness in the Windy City (aka Obamaland) condensed into one blog post.
After meeting up at the main floor Concierge Desk at 900 N. Michigan Ave., on Chicago's Magnificent Mile, we headed upstairs to Teuscher Chocolates of Switzerland, home of "The best Champagne truffles on the planet," per Zagat -- and the J-TWO-O family:
Then we braved the wind and cold to go to More Cupcakes, a feast for the eyes and tummy, run by a mother of five. There we sampled chocolate/chocolate cream and chocolate/vanilla bean cupcakes:
After stumbling out of More Cupcakes in a sugar- and chocolate-induced haze, our band of merry chocolateers headed to Sarah's Candies & Pastries, the creation of longtime candy and pastry lover Sarah Levy (who is only in her 20s -- and proof that chocolate is the secret to happiness), where we got to watch a nice man enrobe candied orange peel in chocolate -- and then eat some.After all that chocolate, things began to get a little fuzzy (and a little too milk chocolaty) for me. We headed to Water Tower Place, to Lindt, where I vaguely remember standing in front of The Wall of Truffles and eating an extra dark truffle and being cajoled to eat/buy more chocolate, and then stumbling out of the shop in search of some water, in a chocolate-induced haze.
Then we headed downstairs to the Frango store, where I did not even attempt to eat the chocolate-covered minty creations, though my daughter gamely downed both the original and limited-edition candy cane variety of Frango Mint (which has just not been the same since Macy's took over Marshall Field's, a Chicago institution).
Stumbling out of Water Tower Place we headed across several blocks to our final chocolate destination, Argo Tea, where we drank what can best be described as "liquid candy cane" but was some kind of white chocolate mint tea concoction, and were given samples of brownies, which, like the Frango Mints, I shoved into my goody bag.
Engorged with chocolate we waddled back to 900 N. Michigan and to our car -- and headed off to Whole Foods to do some last-minute Thanksgiving shopping.
And speaking of Thanksgiving, as I sit here in my heart-covered velveteen purple pajamas, I wish one and all a very happy and healthy Thanksgiving (one hopefully filled with at least a little dark chocolate, which as we now know is filled with healthy antioxidants).
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Giving Thanks
As Thanksgiving is only two days away, I thought this an appropriate time and space to give thanks to all the people, things, and events I am thankful for this year.
I am thankful...
* that I have a spouse who not only loves me but supports all of my endeavors, including this blog (on which he often comments).
* that I have a daughter who can't say "I love you" enough; who does her homework without being asked; and who loves to learn and to read and to write. (Now if only we could get her to clean up after herself....)
* to have two affectionate cats who keep me company and make me laugh in sickness and in health (one of whom is currently batting a rubber ball all over our wooden-floored house and the other of whom is pawing my hands as I type and swishing her tail across my monitor).
* for all of YOU, my blog readers, especially the ones who take the extra time to leave a comment. (With special shout outs to Dave S., who is like the brother I never had and always wanted -- and was the one who encouraged me to blog, and EMM, who makes me laugh, over at Potpourri for $500; Larissa and her haikus; my mother, who reads EVERY blog post, bless her, and always emails me a nice comment; "Moishie," also one of my most devoted readers, who leaves me funny comments; Tommy over at Blah Blog Blah; "Betty" over at Betty Cracker, one of the best political blogs to come out of this election year; and Melanie, the estimable mistress of BeanPaste, one of the funniest, sweetest, and tastiest blogs on the Web, who gave me two honorable mentions and links recently, for which I am most grateful.)
* similarly that there is this wondrous thing called "the blogosphere," which has given me (and a lot of other folks, for better and/or for worse) an outlet to say the things (well, at least some of the things) I've always wanted to say or write -- and allowed me to discover many other wonderful writers, thinkers, and photographers (many of whom are listed in my blogroll, to the right, which I recommend you check out) whom I may not otherwise have known about.
* for the work opportunities I have had and the new ones awaiting me.
* for the roof over my head, especially now that it no longer leaks.
* for the delicious food I hope to be eating over Thanksgiving break.
* for my health and the good health of my family and friends.
* that BOTH the Jets and the Giants are in first place. (And Lord, if it's not too much to ask, a Jets vs. Giants Super Bowl XLIII?)
* that Barack Hussein Obama will be our 44th President -- and that Sarah Palin will NOT be the Vice President (at least not for the next four years). For both these things, I am especially grateful.
What are you grateful for this Thanksgiving? Leave a comment and let me know.
I am thankful...
* that I have a spouse who not only loves me but supports all of my endeavors, including this blog (on which he often comments).
* that I have a daughter who can't say "I love you" enough; who does her homework without being asked; and who loves to learn and to read and to write. (Now if only we could get her to clean up after herself....)
* to have two affectionate cats who keep me company and make me laugh in sickness and in health (one of whom is currently batting a rubber ball all over our wooden-floored house and the other of whom is pawing my hands as I type and swishing her tail across my monitor).
* for all of YOU, my blog readers, especially the ones who take the extra time to leave a comment. (With special shout outs to Dave S., who is like the brother I never had and always wanted -- and was the one who encouraged me to blog, and EMM, who makes me laugh, over at Potpourri for $500; Larissa and her haikus; my mother, who reads EVERY blog post, bless her, and always emails me a nice comment; "Moishie," also one of my most devoted readers, who leaves me funny comments; Tommy over at Blah Blog Blah; "Betty" over at Betty Cracker, one of the best political blogs to come out of this election year; and Melanie, the estimable mistress of BeanPaste, one of the funniest, sweetest, and tastiest blogs on the Web, who gave me two honorable mentions and links recently, for which I am most grateful.)
* similarly that there is this wondrous thing called "the blogosphere," which has given me (and a lot of other folks, for better and/or for worse) an outlet to say the things (well, at least some of the things) I've always wanted to say or write -- and allowed me to discover many other wonderful writers, thinkers, and photographers (many of whom are listed in my blogroll, to the right, which I recommend you check out) whom I may not otherwise have known about.
* for the work opportunities I have had and the new ones awaiting me.
* for the roof over my head, especially now that it no longer leaks.
* for the delicious food I hope to be eating over Thanksgiving break.
* for my health and the good health of my family and friends.
* that BOTH the Jets and the Giants are in first place. (And Lord, if it's not too much to ask, a Jets vs. Giants Super Bowl XLIII?)
* that Barack Hussein Obama will be our 44th President -- and that Sarah Palin will NOT be the Vice President (at least not for the next four years). For both these things, I am especially grateful.
What are you grateful for this Thanksgiving? Leave a comment and let me know.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Football! Beer! Sex! Pumpkin pie!
Finally, a blog post for everyone.
First, football. (And ladies, if you are not interested in me talking about a bunch of guys with no necks and upper arms the size of your waist in too-tight short pants constantly touching and trying to tackle each other all for a little pigskin, just scroll down the page a wee bit. I promise you will not be disappointed.)
So football. As many of you already know, yesterday afternoon the big story here in the New York City Metro Area (and probably in Tennessee, too, albeit for different reasons) was the New York Jets mowing down undefeated Tennessee for a Titan-ic upset (think crop duster and Cary Grant in "North by Northwest"). The stunning 34 - 13 upset now gives the Jets an 8 - 3 record, leaving them securely atop the AFC East. (Well, at least for another week.) Who'd a thunk it?
And, while I admit I am a wee bit disappointed that the Jets did not wear their New York Titans uniforms, I am not disappointed in the least with Brett Favre (who now has the most passing touchdowns in NFL history, passing Dan Marino -- and yes, probably the most picks, too), Leon Washington (that guy can MOVE), Laveranues (I rest my case) Coles, and the rest of Gang Green's performance today. Well done, Jets, well done.
As for the New York Giants... 10 and 1, baby -- and still leading the NFC! Giants. Could. Go. All. The. Way. (The crowd goes wild. Okay, I go wild. And the spouse. And, okay, probably several million Giants fans watching the G-Men put away the Arizona Cardinals last night, Eastern Time). Final score, 37 - 29. And they got it done without my man, Brandon Jacobs, who sat out the game with a knee injury; without Plaxico Burress, who had hamstring problems; and without David Tyree, the guy who made that amazing (and memorable) Super Bowl XLII catch. But you would have hardly known anyone was missing the way the Giants played yesterday.
I am definitely smelling Super Bowl (though it could just be leftover beer from last year's team-changing Big Game, which was also played at University of Phoenix Stadium).
And speaking of leftover beer...
As some of my readers may remember, this summer, while biking in the Pacific Northwest, I was introduced to Fat Tire Amber Ale, and quickly became addicted*. This addiction quickly turned into obsession when, upon my return to the Northeast, I discovered, you cannot get Fat Tire in the Northeast. Bereft and distraught (after discovering I could not even get New Belgium Brewing to ship me a case, nor could I find someone online who would ship me some), my dear friend, T. from B., who as far as I know isn't even that into beer, then took it upon herself to purchase and have shipped to me 20 22 oz. bottles of this nectar of the beer gods.
Beautiful, are they not? Talk about Drinkability. Mm mm.
Well, sadly, we are now down to eight bottles, two of which we are saving to give to my stepfather, who relishes a good beer, in a couple weeks. (And no, T. from B., this does NOT mean you need to order me more. Your original gift was more than generous.)
Besides, you know what too much beer leads to, right? Sex. Well, if you are lucky, guys. You know what else can lead to sex? Doing the dishes. (Hey, my man Obama is no fool.)
Just look at that picture. Is that sexy or what? Ladies, you know what I am talking about. The best part? I did not even have to ask the spouse to clean those filthy oven racks. He just donned his bright orange latex gloves and started scrubbing away, while our oven was self cleaning and we were watching the Jets game (see above). I think that behavior deserves a reward.
Which is why I made this:
That be mighty fine pie -- topped with the best homemade whipped cream you never had. (My secret: rum. And vanilla. Hmm. Guess it's not a secret anymore.)
Okay, technically, I made this delicious-looking (and tasting!) pumpkin pie because our neighbors (both of whom are Giants and Fat Tire fans) invited us over for a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving feast yesterday, and we were tasked with bringing a pie and a vegetable. (I made a big autumn salad, even though it feels more like winter.) Also, the kid's been pestering me to make a pumpkin pie for years.
In all, it was a mighty fine Sunday. A win-win-win. (Great football. Great food. Great fun.)
Coming up next on J-TWO-O, things I am thankful for. Stay tuned...
12 NOON OFF-TOPIC UPDATE: This just in: Tiger Woods will no longer be forced to drive a Buick. According to reports, GM will no longer use Woods as a pitchman after this year, which is reportedly fine by Tiger as he hated being taken for an eighty-something driver and wearing those funny driving caps.
*A clarification: I am not technically addicted to Flat Tire (or any other beer or form of alcohol), though it sure felt that way during the latter part of the summer. It was a TURN OF PHRASE, a bit of hyperbole. Happy now, J1?
First, football. (And ladies, if you are not interested in me talking about a bunch of guys with no necks and upper arms the size of your waist in too-tight short pants constantly touching and trying to tackle each other all for a little pigskin, just scroll down the page a wee bit. I promise you will not be disappointed.)
So football. As many of you already know, yesterday afternoon the big story here in the New York City Metro Area (and probably in Tennessee, too, albeit for different reasons) was the New York Jets mowing down undefeated Tennessee for a Titan-ic upset (think crop duster and Cary Grant in "North by Northwest"). The stunning 34 - 13 upset now gives the Jets an 8 - 3 record, leaving them securely atop the AFC East. (Well, at least for another week.) Who'd a thunk it?
And, while I admit I am a wee bit disappointed that the Jets did not wear their New York Titans uniforms, I am not disappointed in the least with Brett Favre (who now has the most passing touchdowns in NFL history, passing Dan Marino -- and yes, probably the most picks, too), Leon Washington (that guy can MOVE), Laveranues (I rest my case) Coles, and the rest of Gang Green's performance today. Well done, Jets, well done.As for the New York Giants... 10 and 1, baby -- and still leading the NFC! Giants. Could. Go. All. The. Way. (The crowd goes wild. Okay, I go wild. And the spouse. And, okay, probably several million Giants fans watching the G-Men put away the Arizona Cardinals last night, Eastern Time). Final score, 37 - 29. And they got it done without my man, Brandon Jacobs, who sat out the game with a knee injury; without Plaxico Burress, who had hamstring problems; and without David Tyree, the guy who made that amazing (and memorable) Super Bowl XLII catch. But you would have hardly known anyone was missing the way the Giants played yesterday.
I am definitely smelling Super Bowl (though it could just be leftover beer from last year's team-changing Big Game, which was also played at University of Phoenix Stadium).And speaking of leftover beer...
As some of my readers may remember, this summer, while biking in the Pacific Northwest, I was introduced to Fat Tire Amber Ale, and quickly became addicted*. This addiction quickly turned into obsession when, upon my return to the Northeast, I discovered, you cannot get Fat Tire in the Northeast. Bereft and distraught (after discovering I could not even get New Belgium Brewing to ship me a case, nor could I find someone online who would ship me some), my dear friend, T. from B., who as far as I know isn't even that into beer, then took it upon herself to purchase and have shipped to me 20 22 oz. bottles of this nectar of the beer gods.
Beautiful, are they not? Talk about Drinkability. Mm mm.Well, sadly, we are now down to eight bottles, two of which we are saving to give to my stepfather, who relishes a good beer, in a couple weeks. (And no, T. from B., this does NOT mean you need to order me more. Your original gift was more than generous.)
Besides, you know what too much beer leads to, right? Sex. Well, if you are lucky, guys. You know what else can lead to sex? Doing the dishes. (Hey, my man Obama is no fool.)
Just look at that picture. Is that sexy or what? Ladies, you know what I am talking about. The best part? I did not even have to ask the spouse to clean those filthy oven racks. He just donned his bright orange latex gloves and started scrubbing away, while our oven was self cleaning and we were watching the Jets game (see above). I think that behavior deserves a reward.Which is why I made this:
That be mighty fine pie -- topped with the best homemade whipped cream you never had. (My secret: rum. And vanilla. Hmm. Guess it's not a secret anymore.)Okay, technically, I made this delicious-looking (and tasting!) pumpkin pie because our neighbors (both of whom are Giants and Fat Tire fans) invited us over for a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving feast yesterday, and we were tasked with bringing a pie and a vegetable. (I made a big autumn salad, even though it feels more like winter.) Also, the kid's been pestering me to make a pumpkin pie for years.
In all, it was a mighty fine Sunday. A win-win-win. (Great football. Great food. Great fun.)
Coming up next on J-TWO-O, things I am thankful for. Stay tuned...
12 NOON OFF-TOPIC UPDATE: This just in: Tiger Woods will no longer be forced to drive a Buick. According to reports, GM will no longer use Woods as a pitchman after this year, which is reportedly fine by Tiger as he hated being taken for an eighty-something driver and wearing those funny driving caps.
*A clarification: I am not technically addicted to Flat Tire (or any other beer or form of alcohol), though it sure felt that way during the latter part of the summer. It was a TURN OF PHRASE, a bit of hyperbole. Happy now, J1?
Saturday, November 22, 2008
"Bronx Mowgli" and what else NOT to name your child
I get the whole "let's be original! our child needs to stand out from the pack!" mentality, parents of Suri, Sunday, Shiloh, Moses and Apple. But Ever Gabo? Zuma Nesta Rock? And Bronx Mowgli? Give me -- and the poor kid -- a friggin' break! Not that I am saying everyone should name his or her kid something traditional (i.e., English or Biblical -- and let's face it, there are some mighty odd names, at least by today's standards, in the Bible). Just something spellable and pronounceable, that won't give the poor kid a complex.
So herewith I give you "J.'s Rules for What Not to Name Your Child." (Note: The opinions expressed herein are J.'s and are not necessarily shared by her family or friends.)
1. Do not name your child something offensive or obsene (or just downright stupid), like "Shithead" (pronounced "Shuh-TEED") or "Loser" (though Loser turned out to be a winner, while his brother, Winner, turned out to be a loser), both cases mentioned in the book Freakonomics. In New Zealand, authorities have the right to turn down names that are openly offensive or obscene and have already said no to Fish and Chips, Yeah Detroit, Stallion, Twisty Poi, Keenan Got Lucky, Sex Fruit, Fat Boy, Satan, Adolf Hitler, and 4Real. For real. In fact, the parents of "Talula Does the Hula From Hawaii" lost custody of the child, who went by the initial "K" instead, she was so embarrassed by her name.
2. Do not name your child after a borough of the City of New York. (Yeah, I'm talking to you David and Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham and you, Ashlee with two "e"s and Pete Wenz.)
3. Do not name your child after a beach. (Do you know what kind of sludge washes up onto beaches?)
4. Do not name your child after a beverage, adult or otherwise. (Does the world really need another "Budweiser" or "Zuma"? Though the parents of the latter say they named him after the beach. Though really, is a beach any better? See above.)
5. Do not name your child after a day of the week, unless you are a member of the Addams Family. (Though, okay, Tuesday -- nee Susan -- Weld was pretty cute, though she suffered a nervous breakdown at 9, started drinking heavily at 10, and tried to kill herself at 12. Are you paying attention, Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban?)
6. Do not name your child after your or anyone else's car. (Why? Do you really want to hear some guy say "Oh what a feeling to drive a Toyota" when you know he's not talking about the car? Enough said.)
7. Do not name your child after a menu item, even one from a fancy French restaurant. (Yes, I'm talking 'bout you, parents of all those "Happy Meals." And while I love a good cupcake, I do not suggest naming your child after one.)
8. Do not pick a name you can't spell, and then come up with some weird spelling that no one else can spell or pronounce. (FYI, If you, an adult, can't spell it, what makes you think your kid, his friends, and/or his teachers will?) PC Warning: The only possible exception to this rule is if you know for sure your son is going to grow up to be a professional basketball or football player in the United States. And even then, can't you cut the announcers/commentators some slack? Their job is hard enough as is.
Special note here for my Welsh and Irish/Gaelic readers: This rule does not necessarily apply to you, especially if you reside in Wales or Ireland where I assume you and other people will know how to spell your child's name, even if the rest of us don't.
I am sure if I sat here long enough, I could come up with more rules, but I need to take little Hard Day's Night Two-O shopping for some winter outerwear.
P.S. If you want to have a little fun researching baby names, try the The Baby Name Wizard, where you can "explore name trends letter by letter."
UPDATED 12:08 P.M.: I just came across this blog/web post titled "Baby's Named a Bad, Bad Thing: A Primer on Parent Cruelty," which is also pretty darn funny (and/or scary, depending on your point of view).
UPDATED AGAIN AT 3:55 P.M.: How could I have possibly left off Kal-el Coppola Cage, Moxie CrimeFighter Jillette, or Soleil Moon Frye, who named her children Jagger and Poet? (For more unusual celebrity baby names, click on the link.)
So herewith I give you "J.'s Rules for What Not to Name Your Child." (Note: The opinions expressed herein are J.'s and are not necessarily shared by her family or friends.)
1. Do not name your child something offensive or obsene (or just downright stupid), like "Shithead" (pronounced "Shuh-TEED") or "Loser" (though Loser turned out to be a winner, while his brother, Winner, turned out to be a loser), both cases mentioned in the book Freakonomics. In New Zealand, authorities have the right to turn down names that are openly offensive or obscene and have already said no to Fish and Chips, Yeah Detroit, Stallion, Twisty Poi, Keenan Got Lucky, Sex Fruit, Fat Boy, Satan, Adolf Hitler, and 4Real. For real. In fact, the parents of "Talula Does the Hula From Hawaii" lost custody of the child, who went by the initial "K" instead, she was so embarrassed by her name.
2. Do not name your child after a borough of the City of New York. (Yeah, I'm talking to you David and Victoria "Posh Spice" Beckham and you, Ashlee with two "e"s and Pete Wenz.)
3. Do not name your child after a beach. (Do you know what kind of sludge washes up onto beaches?)
4. Do not name your child after a beverage, adult or otherwise. (Does the world really need another "Budweiser" or "Zuma"? Though the parents of the latter say they named him after the beach. Though really, is a beach any better? See above.)
5. Do not name your child after a day of the week, unless you are a member of the Addams Family. (Though, okay, Tuesday -- nee Susan -- Weld was pretty cute, though she suffered a nervous breakdown at 9, started drinking heavily at 10, and tried to kill herself at 12. Are you paying attention, Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban?)
6. Do not name your child after your or anyone else's car. (Why? Do you really want to hear some guy say "Oh what a feeling to drive a Toyota" when you know he's not talking about the car? Enough said.)
7. Do not name your child after a menu item, even one from a fancy French restaurant. (Yes, I'm talking 'bout you, parents of all those "Happy Meals." And while I love a good cupcake, I do not suggest naming your child after one.)
8. Do not pick a name you can't spell, and then come up with some weird spelling that no one else can spell or pronounce. (FYI, If you, an adult, can't spell it, what makes you think your kid, his friends, and/or his teachers will?) PC Warning: The only possible exception to this rule is if you know for sure your son is going to grow up to be a professional basketball or football player in the United States. And even then, can't you cut the announcers/commentators some slack? Their job is hard enough as is.
Special note here for my Welsh and Irish/Gaelic readers: This rule does not necessarily apply to you, especially if you reside in Wales or Ireland where I assume you and other people will know how to spell your child's name, even if the rest of us don't.
I am sure if I sat here long enough, I could come up with more rules, but I need to take little Hard Day's Night Two-O shopping for some winter outerwear.
P.S. If you want to have a little fun researching baby names, try the The Baby Name Wizard, where you can "explore name trends letter by letter."
UPDATED 12:08 P.M.: I just came across this blog/web post titled "Baby's Named a Bad, Bad Thing: A Primer on Parent Cruelty," which is also pretty darn funny (and/or scary, depending on your point of view).
UPDATED AGAIN AT 3:55 P.M.: How could I have possibly left off Kal-el Coppola Cage, Moxie CrimeFighter Jillette, or Soleil Moon Frye, who named her children Jagger and Poet? (For more unusual celebrity baby names, click on the link.)
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