Nine out of ten Murdered Dentists....

OK, so this is an interesting tidbit I heard on the news, more than once. It's that 90% of murder victims are killed by someone they know. I was aware at the time I heard this, of an inner voice saying, "oh, then I'm fine. Because no one I know would kill me." But if you give it just a moment's reflection, I think you can see how that statistic teaches the exact opposite lesson.

It's probably easier to look at your friends and acquaintances and tell who is least likely to kill you. The babies. The old and infirm. These are your real friends.

Food for thought. Merry Christmas.

Jenny

SCTV

Back in the day I was a big fan of SCTV. It was on Friday nights and if I wasn't working I was sure enough in front of the tv watching the show.

Just yesterday I put in one of the four box sets we have in the house and I watched the Christmas Special from 1981. I am very glad to say that it holds up very well.

They did a Christmas sketch based on Neil Simon's Plaza Suite called The Nutcracker Suite. It still kills me.

Last week I watched SNL and I sat through several bits that, well, let's just say that they weren't up to SCTV standards.

John Candy as Divine, on ice skates! Dave Thomas as Michael Caine, Catherine O'Hara as Maggie Smith, and Rick Moranis as Richard Dreyfus from Jaws.

I can't forget Joe Flaherty as Count Floyd or Andrea Martin as Marsha Mason, or Eugene Levy playing Judd Hirsch playing Neil Simon.

If you haven't seen this show... run to see it.

I feel like Rex Reed with that last sentence.

Kurt

Not slutty enough. AGAIN.

It seems that this is going to follow me to my grave, and the sooner I come to terms with it, the better: I am not that slutty.

This monkey climbed on board my back eons ago...junior high, I guess. Puberty. Boob-wise, I blossomed, but they didn't come with a corresponding urge to show them to anyone and everyone who asked. I never learned how to hook a thumb in one side of my panties and pull that side down ever so slightly for a photo. I likewise had pretty tame Spring Breaks, where practically no drunk girls tongue-kissed each other because the little light on the camera was red.

I don't know why I'm miffed that Tiger Woods never once tried to get me into bed. But it hurts, I have to tell you. I long for the sex scandal where there are some real surprises....where the mistresses are not from Vegas, where none of them are "would-be models," or "porn stars." What happened to the average forty-somethings, with unruly hair and body-image issues? You think they don't want famous people to sneak around on their wives with them?

I can't help thinking about Elin Nordegren Woods. She's gorgeous. I mean, really. I never thought I'd have anything in common with someone like her, but here we are in the same stupid boat: not slutty enough for Tiger Woods.

The girl-next-door,

Jenny

Books Are For Reading

I’ve recently found myself on some sort of spam list for -- apologies for the crudeness -- Fuckbook. I have to think that this is not a coincidence, that the techies over at Fuckbook were somehow able to find out that I am a member of both GoodReads and Bookmooch (neither of which involve humping, boning or – ehem – fucking) and extrapolated that I’d also be interested in Fuckbook. I have no idea what their service consists of…but I’m going to make an educated guess and say that they offer books that one can fuck. A Fuckbook of sorts. That’s the only logical conclusion I can come to.

Unless it’s a porn site.
Oh.
Yeah.
It might be a porn site.
It’s probably a porn site.
A porn site for librarians.
I get it now.



Librarians are crazy. Believe it.
gretch

Sentimentality

The other night I was with a good friend and we were watching Hoarders.

Of course there was a house that was just full of garbage which got me to thinking.

I am the opposite of a hoarder. I am always looking to get rid of stuff. Just last week I gave away some clothes.

My idea of a nice place to live is a place that has practically nothing in it... so it looks like a room at a Motel 6.

My problem won't be on TV, but since that one-eyed monster needs feeding, maybe A&E will come knocking on my door.

Kurt

1 877 KARS FOR KIDS

I have heard this commercial on the radio a lot. So much so that it is now on my "turn off" list, where I have to turn off the radio when I hear it come on. This song has also joined any Sit 'N Sleep commercial where I know Larry is going to scream, "FREE!".

If you haven't heard the 1 877 KARS FOR KIDS commercial then consider yourself lucky. The spot starts out with a song and a child and an adult singing this droning song which sounds like music played at Universal Studios Theme Park. The song is so methodical that you are lulled into a light hypnotic state where you become susceptible to its evil.

As I just wrote that last line I heard one of the new dust mite commercials for Sit 'N Sleep where they scare you into thinking that you sleep with bugs eating at you all night.

Bastards. I couldn't get to my remote fast enough.

Next commercial on my list?

Commercials telling me that I need gold in my portfolio.

Kurt

Quick Quiz to Check if You're Dead Inside

It only takes 17 seconds....




The More You Know about yourself....

Jenny