Fetching Phelps

I totally just found a normal-looking, attractive, dare I say, shmexy picture of Mister Manfish himself -- Michael Phelps!





FYI I'm imagining playing the bongos on his boobies.







It must be the hair. Head hair, face hair, chest hair. Hair is good.

P.S. Fetching+Phelps=Feltching... coincidence?

Facebook Flub

Today I went to Future Shop. While browsing through the TV section I noticed a computer set up that had a large widescreen monitor with a stretched out picture. What was this skewed image of you ask? A Facebook profile. Not just ANY Facebook profile but a SIGNED IN Facebook profile. Now I don't get much shots at sabotage and this particular gentleman who had left his profile signed in, to my knowledge, has done me no wrong. That being said, how could I resist? He was listed as in a relationship with a certain someone. What did I do next? I wrote on her wall. Now this might sound bad but trust me, it was hilarious at the time. I told her that I wanted to see other people.

Am I going to Hell?

That's My Mama

My mom called me tonight - we hadn't talked in a couple of days. She went to a Rod Stewart concert Saturday night. This was her third time seeing him in a year and a half. She's been going to his concerts since the 80's and has no idea how many she's been to over the years.

We talked about Rod and Elvis, her guys, and John Cusack, my guy. We concluded; tall dark and handsome, though that doesn't explain Rod. I recounted my dream from the previous night which included a dinner with a revolving cast of distant acquaintances and members of Sloan. It took a dark twist resulting in the untimely death of a pet mouse. Deep introspection was needed for that one.

She just called back to let me know that they were talking about the Pixies on 107.9. It quickly turned into a breathy crooning version of Tainted Love but that's beside the point. The moral of the story? My mom is the coolest.

A Theory

Michael Phelps is the new Chuck Norris.

"I heard that he punches stars right out of the sky and eats whole giraffes for breakfast, lunch and dinner."
"...And space eagles. They're the tastiest. At least 1,900 calories per carcass."

He also apparently eats his own feces to retain those 12,000 calories. He has flippers for Christ's sake! The sportscaster even said so!
Oh, and those little legs! Tee hee hee.

Things I've Bought That I Love #3

Yesterday I purchased Michael Ian Black's latest literary effort My Custom Van: And 50 Other Mind-Blowing Essays That Will Blow Your Mind All Over Your Face. I rationalized paying $29.39 by reminding myself that he is a struggling artist with a family to feed. The Coles employee also informed me that "He's funny."

I got to the ninth page and thought to myself "Wooo take 'er easy! You're burnin' through this book like wildfire! Baby steps girl, baby steps. You keep goin' and there's no tellin' how fast you'll finish this thing!" So I've read nine pages. Here's a scented candle/genital comparison excerpted from the book: "Everybody loves a good scented candle. Scented candles are to people's nostrils what friction is to their genitals-in other words, terrific."

Talk Show Trash Talk

I've been catching up on missed talk shows lately, specifically The Tonight Show. Now I know Leno is leaving next year but the crew left 2 weeks ago. The cameramen are really shitting the bed lately. They couldn't block a shot to save their lives. Triumph the Insult Comic Dog was on after Kevin Spacey on the 25th and you could see the puppeteers entire forearm and the bald crown of his curly-haired Jew head. This would never have happened to Kermit on Carson.



Also, Jay has become very brazen as of late. Jesse McCartney performed on the aforementioned episode and when introducing him, Jay mentioned the title of his album 'Departure.' I'm sure I'm stepping on the joke but Jay pointed out that it's a good name if you're leaving. He's certainly more lax when it comes to the censors. Maybe this falls on the producer's lap or whatever lackey intern does the pre-interviews but Jay had no problem with Seth Rogen's masturbation talk. He encouraged it! (Kudos, by the way.)

In other talk show related tirades, there's the double standard when it comes to guests. I've heard Adam Carolla mention this before, as he has been through it many a time. When an attractive female is on a talk show all they have to do is just that -- be attractive. They tell frivolous stories that go nowhere and the host is forced to indulge them. I guess it goes for some of the males as well. When it's an average looking celebrity or comedian, they have to dance. They film a clip or rehearse a bit, as Carolla is known to do on Kimmel. Hell, he even rode out on a unicycle once.


Oh look! A separate televised unicycle stunt. Dance Adam, dance for The Man. Which reminds me, besides this and the Jimmy Kimmel Live appearance I was referring to, he also unicycled on Dancing With The Stars. Oh man.

Even if you're a well-established figure, aren't you obliged to entertain? It's your job! You don't see Don Rickles talking about shoe shopping when he goes on Letterman. (Though he could if he wanted to, he's earned it.) As an entertainer in the entertainment industry shouldn't you entertain? Say, make a joke or two, act like you have a pulse? The worst is when they don't even try to plug. Maybe they don't feel they need to, just showing up is enough.

Do I sound bitter yet? Was this a tactless quipping? I'm not sure. I guess I didn't display much tact when referring to Robert Smigel's cranium, (although I didn't mean it in a derogatory sense, I love Jews. Anyone who knows me knows I love the Jews. I guess I was just trying to point out that dogs don't typically have the arm of a Jew shoved up their butts. A Gentile sure, but never a Jew) but when I think "quipping" I think "brief." Maybe I should stick to writing Things I've Bought That I Love posts and stop watching so much TV.

P.S. Did anyone see Mindy Kaling on Letterman? This is a relevant question because she is partly responsible for starting this blog and he is partly to blame for this entry.

I'm Happy Just To Dance With Me

I just realized I was being watched doing what I would describe as a Salsa Shuffle. I was getting my groove on to Intergalactic by the Beastie Boys when I sauntered over to the window sill to see a Polo-shirted young man staring at me. I did a 180 and flopped down on my butt and closed the curtains. He is probably still there. What is he doing there anyway?

Bonus dance recounting:
I've been sick for four or five days now. Congested, laryngitis, a bit of a cough but not miserable. I think I'm on a common cold high. I was dancing like crazy today! I took out my old boom box recently. It used to get left outside and still has Pine pollen inside the speakers. It's much better than my newer fancier stereo. The newer fancier one cuts out if it is turned up too loud and has a mind of it's own when it comes to deciding when to work again.

Anywho, The Offspring's Keep 'Em Separated was on the radio. It's one of those songs that I forget about and am surprised to realize I know the lyrics. It got me moving and pumped me up to put on Sloan's Navy Blues. (Which has been called one of Canada's greatest albums, rightfully so.) I started feverishly strutting up and down the room like Mick Jagger to She Says What She Means. A little bit later I got a nice slow burn on to Sinking Ships and was re-energized and bouncing around, emulating a young Anthony Kiedis to Keep On Thinkin' -- one of my favourites.

Go ahead and skip to 1:30. Note: Chris sans glasses, energetic Jay

Oh, and of course the title inspiration:

I hope this makes up for my ten day absence. Goodnight.