Okay, nobody move.

Nothing can happen today. Okay?

No one can ask me to make or change plans of any kind. No one can ask me for any information, such as passwords, addresses, phone numbers, etc. There can be no movement in my finances, and nothing can occur that would require me to take notes. Everyone needs to just stay verrrrrry still.

Because I left my daytimer at home today. In fact, I left my whole briefcase at home (I use the term "briefcase" very loosely - it's a bag with all my stuff in it. But it has handles.). I'm practically naked and blind without my daytimer. I carry almost no data in my brain anymore because between my cell phone, my laptop and my daytimer, I don't need to. I'm an empty vessel. All kinds of room in there for things like thinking and laughing since very little storage is needed.

But this morning, I was distracted when I left the house, and I walked right out the door without it. I realized it when I got to work and there was nothing for me to carry up to my office. I tried to think for a moment about the ramifications, but without the daytimer to point them out to me, I couldn't be sure. So, I wandered up to the office, a lost soul, clutching my cell phone. "At least I have that," I repeated, over and over to soothe myself, looking at it periodically to be sure.

Oh, wait, I just remembered - it's Halloween. Happy Halloween everyone! (I would've known that before I started this post if I'd had my daytimer.)

Back in the saddle

I'm back in the Cougar. Thangod.

The transaction to get my car back was much easier than the one to drop it off. First off, when I returned the rental car, the guy who checked me out only charged me for a couple of extra hours instead of an entire extra day, so that was nice - saved me some pennies there. Then he drove me over to the garage and actually knew where it was, so that was good.

The final charge at the garage, plus the rental charge was less than four figures, so I'm happy about that. The service manager at the garage almost threw a monkey wrench into what was a nicely flowing transaction, though. I guess he was the only one left at the garage, so he wanted to chat. He asked what I do for a living, then wanted to talk about politics and taxes and consultants. I was flattered he found me an interesting person to converse with, but what I wanted to say was, "I'm tired, traffic is building, and quite frankly, I've been driving a white Ford Focus for four days. If I don't get behind the wheel of something with at least 6 cylinders and a clutch in the next two minutes, something in my DNA is going to shift."

But you know me - I was polite and chatted it up for a few minutes. Then I got to my car and drove like a bat out of hell all the way home with a CD cranked, feeling like my training wheels had been taken off. I do love to drive. Clutch, first, accelerate, ease off with your left foot, feel the thing catch, hear the engine growl, SHIFT! with a flick of the wrist - that's all, don't grab it like you're going to rip it off - just push it with your fingertips into second gear, because it wants to go there anyway. Do it all again, SHIFT! Turn up the music. SHIFT! Then finally, hit fifth gear, and go, baby, go. When it's time to slow down, just drop it into neutral and ease it down with the brake. That's all - let it glide to an idling stop.

I had toyed with the idea of buying an automatic next time. Sometimes you need to toss the keys to someone else, and not everyone can drive a stick. But I don't know if I can do it. Not everyone can cook either, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't.

Ees goot day

Okay, I'm still not recovered from staying out too late on Saturday - I went to bed a little early last night, but apparently not early enough. And I'm having allergy issues, so mostly I want to go home and lay on the couch. But aside from that, it's shaping up to be a good day.

The garage expects to have my car ready by the end of the day, so God willing, I'll be back in the Cougar after work today - woohoo! My rental is fine, but I hate driving a car I'm unfamiliar with. I don't know where all the controls are, and my touch on the brakes isn't right (the Cougar is a stick, so if I forget and use my left foot to break on an automatic, I nearly throw myself and all passengers through the windshield), and I don't have my tunes, and well...it's just not my own little automotive home. So, I'll be happy to be back in the saddle tonight. And then in a month or so, I'll get a new saddle.

The weather is awesome. MAN I love this time of year! Football, volleyball, holiday parties beginning, the chance to wear sweaters, starting to think about Christmas gifts for people (Notice I didn't say buying - just thinking about it. I love thinking about what would be a great gift for someone. The buying comes closer to the season.), sitting out on the patio at all happy hours and dinners possible - it's heaven. Love it.

My stocks are up. My "for fun" portfolio has been in the black for quite a while. Even though a few of the ones I've got right now are clunkers, a few others are super stars, so the portfolio as a whole is rockin' and rollin'. Especially lately it's been really performing well. I first started picking the stocks in June, adding a few here and there, and at the moment, the entire portfolio is up almost 33%. It's like winning a game or something. Except that if I cash out, I get actual cash. But I'm going to try to go long-term to keep the capital gains taxes down, so no cashing out yet! Hopefully, if there's a downturn, I'll be quick enough to bail before I lose anything, but I went into it knowing I could lose it all, so much like a slot machine, I'm takin' my chances!

Speaking of slot machines, I saw Tuna Does Vegas last night - the next installment of the Tuna series of shows. As usual, I laughed often and felt the strangely familiar feeling that certain members of my family were on stage. Those shows are an absolute must if you're from Texas - particularly if you're more than one generation invested and at least some of your relatives don't live in one of the state's big cities. I've blogged about the Tuna shows before, though, so I'll leave it at that.

So, for many reasons, it's a good day despite my feeling like crap. With any luck, I'll make it through the day without falling asleep on my keyboard. I'm going to guess that's frowned upon.

But...it was just a whirring sound.

Crime in Italy, I should've sold the beloved Cougar a month ago. Or two months ago or whatever. I just shouldn't still be owning it at this moment.

Last week I noticed a whirring sound under the hood. Not awful - not that horrible screaming sound that a loose belt makes. Just a whirring. "I should get that looked at," I thought.

I chatted with the folks to see when it might be convenient for me to borrow one of their cars so I could take mine to the shop. Seemed like it wouldn't be convenient for a couple of weeks, so no problem. I can ignore the whirring sound in the meantime. Just turn up the radio, right?

Well, the whirring got way more insistent around Thursday. That made me nervous. Friday morning, it did it all the way to work. Okay, that's it - if I drive the thing all weekend like that, I'll probably melt the flux capacitor or something. So, I took it to the shop at lunch and grabbed a rental car. Don't even get me started on the renting fiasco. It involved some guy who doesn't speak English being sent to pick me up, and no one seeming to know where the garage was...two blocks away.

Anyhoo, the garage called me Friday afternoon. To fix the whirring, a new water pump and belts of some kind will be ordered at a cost of $500 and something. Ouch. Add $100 plus for renting the rental car for 4 days. Oh, and there was also, "Ma'am when did you last have a brake job?" Um....never. Yeah, my car has 94,000 miles on it. The guy at the garage was incredulous that I had any brakes left at all. So, ring up another $275 or so for new brakes. That brings us to about $1,000.

Sir...I think you must've misheard me. It was just a whirring sound.

So, after I've emptied my bank account for the damn whirring sound, I'm going to give it a couple of months, then we're off to incur a new car payment. I've already picked out my new car, but apparently you actually have to go and purchase it before they'll let you start driving it, so after I've gotten at least a few miles from the $1,000 I'm putting into the Cougar, I'll make that happen.

In the meantime, I'm stylin' up Austin in a white 4-door Ford Focus. Don't be jealous.

It doesn't get any easier, little one

My co-worker has an 8-year-old son, and he is learning the things of love (Hey, I had my first crush in pre-school. His name was James, and he was dreeeeeeamy!).

Two weeks ago, he told my co-worker about his lady love (we'll call her Nancy) while they were riding in the car. After extolling her many virtues and informing my co-worker and that he and Nancy were going to get married one day, he fell silent for a few moments, looked wistfully out the window and said, "If only Nancy lived on our street. I'd go over to her house, knock on the door, and we'd play all day." The stuff of dreams.

Alas, the dream is over. Riding home yesterday, he was irritable. He complained about the street sounds coming through my co-worker's sunroof and informed her that he couldn't relax with all that noise. He was grumpy. When they got home, he came clean. "Mamma, I'm not just upset about the noise." And then he told her the sad news that Nancy had broken up with him. Many tears were shed.

It seems that the other kids had made fun of Son and Nancy over the two-week tenure of their romance, and their love could not survive the onslaught. I wish I could tell Son that love gets easier, but I'd be lying. (sigh)

Oh, that "growing up" thing is hard!!

Spike, don't shuck!

In case you've all been selfishly immersing yourself in your own lives and not paying attention to the coolest women's sport around (college volleyball) today, the Longhorn women put a hurt on the Nebraska Cornhuskers last night, the likes of which they haven't seen since the women who played were in elementary school. Das right - they gotta whole lotta Longhorn all up in their grills!

To clarify, the #5 Longhorn volleyball team swept the #1 Huskers last night, and that's the first time since 1997 that the Huskers have been swept. 1, 2, 3 - there's the bus, ladies! And I was there. :) BOO! And YAH!!!

HOOK 'EM HORNS!!!

Updates

I thought I'd take time to update you on some of the subjects brought up on the blog recently. I mention things, and then you don't always hear how things turn out. So, here's where some things stand:

1. Neti Pot - I bought one. It was only $14, so I figured it was worth a try. I haven't actually tried it, though. If I don't drown myself, I'll let you know how effective it is for me.

2. Shirley MacLaine - I'm assuming still nutty.

3. Pushing Daisies - still lovin' it.

4. The Longhorns - rebounding, much to my relief. We won't be in any national championship games, I don't believe, but if we maintain for the rest of the season, we'll get a bowl game and end with a respectable ranking.

5. Pam Anderson - still married. Stay tuned.

6. Mouse hunt - I never caught any mice in the traps I bought, but I also haven't seen them or much new evidence of them, so maybe they found out I didn't want them around and got offended and left. That's a tactic the pesticide industry doesn't want you to know about - shunning.

7. Neighbors - neighbor finished spray-painting truck dark green. It looks like a truck that's been spray-painted dark green. He moved on to a project that involved staking out the property line between us in the front yard. This caused me grave concern. So, I asked him what he was planning on doing. With limited English proficiency he indicated that he's going to plant some kind of purple plant - presumably a number of them since he showed me one and they're not that big (at least so far) and it looks like he's aiming for the entire length of the property line. I hope they're not going to grow very big because I have an oleander shrub/tree on the side of the house bordering his yard, and the tree is huge. If those plants end up forming some kind of giant hedge, I'm going to have trouble mowing around that tree. At least he takes care of his yard, though. His lawn looks much better than mine, what with my "You've been planted - good luck to you" attitude about lawncare.

Anything else you've been wondering about?

Look up

The space station and the space shuttle both flew over Austin tonight - or I should say they were visible as they flew over tonight. I suppose they (or at least the space station) fly over Austin all the time. You just can't see them.

But tonight, you could see them. Or more specifically, *I* could see them! And I DID see them!!! Usually, I hear that one or the other is going to pass by, but then I forget by the time it happens. But tonight I set an alarm for each one. See, I can figure out ways to compensate for my inadequacies - like no memory.

That's the first time I've ever seen either of them, and I got to see both, within about 10 minutes of each other. They each appeared in the NW part of the sky, a bright dot in the sky, moving quickly and smoothly across the sky. The station was visible for longer, the consistent little light gliding across the dark sky, disappearing near the moon. The shuttle was on a slightly different trajectory. It started out about the same brightness as the station, but then it got very, very bright, went directly overhead (I had to crane my neck all the way back), then got dimmer until just disappearing into the dark.

As it passed over, I imagined the astronauts inside and said a little prayer for their safety. I also imagined for a moment that maybe they were looking down at the Earth, at the United States, at Texas as their own families looked up and watched them pass by - that as I stood watching, the astronauts and their families connected across the miles and the night - love and worry and pride and prayer slipping through the ether faster than even the shuttle can fly.

Makes a cold night feel warm.

Neti Pot

Anyone out there use the Neti Pot? What do you think?

It's a little goofy looking to see someone use one - like something The Soup would rip on. But I've had two people give me rave reviews on it helping them with their allergies. I live in the allergy capital of the world, so I wouldn't mind a little non-chemical assistance with mine. I'm thinking seriously about buying one.

Any downside to it?

blah, blah, blah

Headed to Dallas for a few days for work. I can't think of anything witty to say about it. I can't think of anything witty to say about anything else either. I've had coffee, but no breakfast. Maybe that's what's plugging up the works. Maybe I need calories to get the brain working.

In fact, I'm probably working at a deficit now and should double up on my calories - half to get me back to normal and the other half to propel me to brilliantnessnessishness. See? Look at that. I'm practically wasting away on an intellectual level. I should probably find a breakfast buffet at this point. But it's after 10:00 a.m. There are no breakfast buffets on a weekday after 10. Mother of all that is holy, what are they trying to do to me? I'm going to be practically retarded in the next half-hour and it's all the fault of the Breakfast Hour Police.

There's also the small hurdle of being trapped at the office. I can't actually leave to go eat even if I knew where to go. But that's a distraction. Let's keep the blame where it belongs. On God, who designed me to be virtually incapable of getting up any earlier than I currently do so that I might have had a little more time to get some breakfast this morning on the way to work. I usually bring cereal with me, but since I'm going out of town, I didn't want to carry around Tupperware, so that was out. And I ate my last emergency Pop Tart yesterday. It's just a disaster.

What if I'm too stupid to even order any lunch by the time that's appropriate?

You go boyee.

It must be really fun to work at HEB. Like you're at a party. Or a club.

I don't know if it's like that at every HEB, but there's evidence that it's that way at the Hancock Center HEB.

I never noticed it until I went there at lunch today, but there are these big stripes on the floor by the cash registers. They run parallel to the registers, like the yellow brick road, leading you to the glory that is check-out, except they're purple and...some other color. Green maybe. I forget now. But the big stripes are topped by squares.

Technically, the stripes are topped by diamonds, because the squares are turned 45 degrees so that the point is down, but I don't want to get to crazy with the detail and have people asking, "HEB sells diamonds?" Let's stay focused.

So, I stood in line with my purchases, waiting for my turn to put my stuff onto the conveyor belt, and this manager walks by me, stops on a square to my right, and starts dancing. He was breakin' it down. He was steppin'. He was livin' in a world of illusion, all within the little square on the floor, to the music in his head. I wanted to join him.

Then he stopped, a "Thas right" expression on his face, possibly aimed at someone, but I didn't see who, and he moved on down the road to return to his grocery-store manager duties.

I got back to my office, where no one dances, and just for a moment, I wondered what kind of paycut I'd have to take to be a manager at the Hancock Center HEB.

J. Lo

Honey, even visually impaired people can see that you're pregnant. Just say so. You're allowed to say, "Yes, I'm pregnant, as you can see, but Marc and I are trying to keep our private lives as private as possible, so I'm going to leave the details between us."

That elephant in the room will go on his way, and you can start wearing clothes that aren't *designed* to hide what they're not hiding. Unless you're only pretending to hate the papparazzi and you're actually courting the buzz that your refusal to acknowledge the obvious is generating.

Hmmm...hadn't thought of that second option until just now. I thought you were playing the privacy game because after the Ben Affleck "every bowel movement captured on camera" debacle, you had swung a little too far in the other direction. But perhaps you're just manipulating the media - pretending to hate its intrusion by refusing to talk about your obvious pregnancy, knowing that the refusal will actually cause them to talk about you more, which means you're actually using your pregnancy to create buzz for your tour. Hypocritical much?

Get Fuzzy

Does anyone else read the cartoon "Get Fuzzy"? That cartoon just cracks me up! The one yesterday really made me laugh. I wanted to post it here, but I wasn't sure what the copyright law might be about a thing like that, so I found a site I could link to that shows it. Click on the link and prepare to giggle.

Aliens, acupuncture and Shirley

So, I was gonna blog about the UT game, but then yesterday I ran out of time, and now I've come upon something else to talk about. Last night I went to see Shirley Maclaine with a friend. It was kind of "An Evening with Shirley" set-up. Shirley spoke for about an hour then the executive director of the Paramount theater, Ken Stein, interviewed her for about 30 or 45 minutes.

I wasn't sure what to expect to be honest, and it was...interesting. Shirley is...interesting. I was aware of her sort of "out there" spiritual theories, but I'm kind of open in that regard, and I know she's a smart lady, so I was interested in hearing what she was going to say. I, uh, got my money's worth.

I can now say, based on my own experience of hearing the woman's own words, that, well, she's a loon. I'm sorry, Shirley. You're very smart and a talented actress, and I'll still enjoy you on screen, and I even kind of like you, but you're a loon.

I don't think she's a loon because she believes in acupuncture points and suggests people have dead teeth removed to cure acid reflux. Can't say I buy it, and me, I'll take Pepcid, but I think there's something to acupuncture, and Lord knows we don't understand everything about the body and our nervous systems, etc., so I'm open.

I don't think she's a loon for not liking George W. Bush. Lots of people don't like him or his policies, so that's okay. You're entitled. I think it's intellectually dishonest to say that he's an example of us "dumbing down" and wishing he'd die. The implication is that if you don't agree with her politics, you're stupid and shouldn't exist, and that kind of cop-out argument always loses me. So, she loses points for intellectuality with that, but that doesn't make her crazy.

I don't even think Shirley is a loon for believing in aliens. I actually think it's highly unlikely that out of the entire universe, we're the *only* sentient beings. There's very little of the universe we've been able to explore, so how can we possibly know what other life might be out there? And could other life have visited here? Sure, why not? And would we know? Maybe not. If they've made it to us, they've passed us technologically, so theoretically, they could have ways of communicating or cloaking themselves that would slip right past us. Imagine if you went back in time 100 years and could use your cell phone and your microwave, watch your tv and use the GPS in your car. People would freak and think YOU were an alien. Who knows what we'll discover and develop in the next 100 years.

But. When Shirley said computers were developed from technology the government found at the Roswell crash...well, I'm sorry, Shirley. I just can't follow you there. I'm not kidding, people. She said that. And she believes it. Apparently, we humans aren't capable of advances like that all on our own. I wonder who showed the Roswell aliens how to make computers?

She also said that if your dog smells, it's because you don't love him enough, because if he really felt that you loved him, he'd take it upon himself not to smell to please you. Yeah. She said that.

There was also something about us creating George W - it was part of some point about us creating reality or something...I don't know...I tuned out at times and started thinking about how I'd donate money to the Paramount to help preserve it if I hit the lottery. That seemed like a more reasonable train of thought at the time than whatever it was Shirley was babbling about.

The best part of the evening was the interview with Ken Stein. He was an absolute delight. I really enjoyed him. He came at the interview not with some elitist "Inside the Actor's Studio" approach, but as a fan and just a normal person, and you sort of felt like his questions and his reactions were the ones you would have if you were up there. At one point after Shirley had given some esoteric answer to something, he even said, "Sometimes you talk about things I don't understand, so I'm just going to move on." The audience died laughing, because, good Lord, it was so true.

Don't get me wrong, Shirley was a great interview. She was honest, open, funny and real. She had rapport with Ken and with the audience, and I liked her. But I think part of her ease was how easy Ken made it. Kind of like that old SNL skit, "The Chris Farley Show." Ken didn't pound himself on the head or say, "Remember that scene in 'Terms of Endearment' when you yelled at the nurse? That was cool." But that "regular guy" feeling was there that endeared him to you - or to me anyway. Good job, Ken.

And, uh, good luck Shirley. If the aliens do come and abduct someone, I'm thinking you're first in line, and the word on the street is that it isn't entirely pleasant.

Overheard on the street today:

"Today was a success."

Made me feel good for the lady who said it. Here's hoping we can all say that when we lay our heads down tonight.

Friday is a good day.

It's Friiiiiiidaaaaay!!!! Woo-hoo!!!

It's not so much the "Friday" part that makes me happy as the fact that today will be followed by Saturday, which will be followed by Sunday. Stretching out before me are two whole days where I get to sleep in and be the master of my own schedule. I don't have to go or be anywhere I don't want to go or be.

Okay, technically, I have that option during the week - I'd just have to sacrifice a paycheck for the freedom. And while I have a nice little nest egg going ("A bird lives in a round stick!" - If you can name that movie quote, you get to be my new best friend.), I'm not quite ready for retirement just yet.

On another note, I saw a neat little new show the other night: Pushing Daisies. It's kind of sci-fi, kind of fantasy, kind of romance, kind of murder mystery, kind of Tim Burton, kind of Coen Brothers, and really enjoyable. It doesn't hurt that the lead character is nice to look at, but so is his love interest - in fact, I especially like her, because she gives me hope. See, the lead character is pursued romantically by a sex-pot blonde, but he doesn't want her - he wants the pretty little brunette he's loved since he was a kid. It gives hope to all us little brunettes that maybe, just maybe, there are guys out there who really would want us even if they had the option of a sex-pot blonde. Dream the dream, little dreamer...

The lead is a pie maker, and his pie shop is called "The Pie Hole." Love it. He's got this great sidekick, who cracks me up (he actually calls the lead guy "bitch" at one point when the lead guy almost accidentally kills him), and the love interest's aunts used to be synchronized swimmers. Awesome. The cast is mostly people I don't know, but they're really good. One name you may have heard is Swoosie Kurtz - she plays one of the love interest's crazy aunts. They're going to do a repeat of the Pushing Daisies series premiere tonight at 7:00 (CST), so check it out. Let me know if you like it!

Taste the concrete.

I came back from lunch today, and the back elevator wouldn't come down to the ground floor. Apparently, someone was holding it on another floor. If my office was on any other floor of the building, that wouldn't matter, but in our building, there's only one elevator that actually goes all the way to the top floor - our floor: the back elevator.

I cursed whoever it was that was holding it and went around to the other elevators. I took one up to the next-to-the-top floor then entered the dark and sinister stairwell to walk the last flight of stairs. I jerked the door from the stairwell open and stepped forward...into a pitch black room. Seems there's an extra room between the stairwell to the lighted hallway leading to our office, and the extra room has no lights. That's not creepy.

Good thing I have no imagination or I would've immediately thought to myself, "Anyone could be hiding in here, and I wouldn't be able to see them. And if they decided to, say, attack me, it's possible no one would hear me since the entire office is located on the other side of the building." Oh wait...I have a really great imagination. Damn.

So, since I was appropriately freaked out mere seconds after jerking open the door, I gripped my styrofoam cup full of Diet Coke in my right hand, and held my purse against my side with my left hand and rushed really quickly, full steam-ahead through the totally dark room. I aimed for the light around the door on the other side, almost there, thank God I didn't run into anyth--BAM!!!!

I'm sure there's a reason someone built a concrete step three feet from the door. But that's not the thought that entered my head when my new pumps slammed into that step, throwing my whole body forward into the floor. I tried to catch myself with my right hand (since I'm right handed), but it had a 20-oz styrofoam cup in it. I heard the Diet Coke pouring out of the cup and tried to right the cup while simultaneously scrambling to get up off the floor before it got all over me and wondering if I had bruised my knee. But the Coke kept pouring out no matter what I did.

I groped and found the door knob, pushed open the door, and in the light, I could see that the fall had broken my styrofoam cup...at the bottom. I turned the cup sideways and that stanched the flow of cola. I limped to the bathroom and threw the cup away, wiped off my shoes and inspected the damage. No broken skin, so not too bad. There will likely be bruises tomorrow, but these days I find bruises without even knowing where they come from, so at least I'll know the origin on these.

When I got to the office, I was prepared to rail against whoever it was that had held the elevator and started this whole fiasco. But then I found out that the elevator was actually broken, and one of our delivery guys had been stuck in it for a half an hour. He stole my thunder! How dare he be stuck in a tiny, suspended box for 30 minutes when I have a story to tell about falling in the dark!

Oh well. At least there was no one in the scary, dark room. I know, because if there had been, there's no question they would've laughed out loud when I bit it. I kind of snicker everytime I picture it in my head.

(P.S. This is posting on Thursday. I wrote this on Tuesday, as the date stamp shows, but for some reason it never got posted - maybe I forgot to click on the "Publish Post" button? Couldn't possibly be user error. In any case, no bruising on my knees appeared, but my arms and back have been sore for the last 2 days thanks to my little spill. I'm getting old.)

Another week

Today started off poorly. I woke up at 5:48 a.m. and just for a moment, I thought it was Sunday. Joy! I can go back to sleep - hours left on the sleep clock! Imagine my disappointment when I realized the truth.

I think that disappointment is only a hangover from the disappointment I experienced Saturday at Royal-Memorial Stadium. I'm afraid this season for the Longhorns has only landmines ahead. We dodged them the first few games, but the wheels done come off the bus this weekend, and now we're all just going to shove it along the ground, striking landmine after landmine.

The first loud boom can be expected this Saturday, when OU takes out its own disappointment on us. They're going to enjoy it alot. We won't. I'll watch for as long as I can take it. Maybe some miracle will happen and we'll decide to play like the team we should be instead of the one we are. But I doubt it. At least I didn't pay a gazillion dollars for tickets to the actual game.

A short roundup:

- Pam Anderson may be getting married again. Sure. Why not?

- Jackie Chan doesn't really care for his Rush Hour movies - the humor and action are too Americanized for his taste. Didn't mind the American dollars it put in your pocket, though, did you, Jack?

- A guy who tried to extort $1 million from Tom Cruise was found dead last week. He committed "suicide." That must be Scientology-ese for "You messed with our alien leader and now you must pay." (Kidding, Scientology! Kidding! What's funny is that you would NEVER do anything like that!! Get it?? See how funny something so completely off the mark is??? You're like Islam - a religion of peace!!! Maybe I should upgrade my security system at home...)

- And from the "What the hell is wrong with people?" file, a company in India has launched a new line of bedspreads they call "The Nazi Collection." When you start the story, you're thinking, "What a complete a-hole" about whoever is responsible. Then, just for a moment, you see his explanation and you think, "Oh, it was just a stupid mistake." But then the guy responsible says: "It really does not matter to me who feels bad about it." So, yeah, first impression was the right one. What an a-hole.