I can’t believe I didn’t hear about this incredible drug bust last summer. Actually, I can. The American reporting of the story left a lot to be desired. Whereas, in Russia:
I want to get all my news from this woman.
I can’t believe I didn’t hear about this incredible drug bust last summer. Actually, I can. The American reporting of the story left a lot to be desired. Whereas, in Russia:
I want to get all my news from this woman.
Around this time of year, I start thinking about a really spectacular celebrity sighting that Benny had in the early ’90s outside a Thrifty drug store in Hollywood – the Del Rubio Triplets. They had purchased three double-dip chocolate ice cream cones – one for Eadie, one for Elena, and one for Milly – and a gallon of vodka. Benny watched as the girls climbed into a big white Cadillac to eat their ice cream cones. He didn’t get to see what they did with the vodka.
Why do I start thinking about Benny’s celebrity sighting this time of year?
That’s why.
I’m hoping to rectify my technical difficulties tonight; please listen to this music in a loop until then.
UPDATE: The computer, she is broken. The genius doesn’t have my RAM until later in the week. Expect slightly handicapped Fancy Notions for a few more days.
I feel so late to the party. Before yesterday, I had no idea who Sandra Lee from the Food Network was. Apparently Sandra Lee is a woman who throws a lot of pre-made food together until it resembles something hilarious and then drinks a lot of cocktails so she can properly concentrate on making a fancy centerpiece for her table. I really can’t knock any of that. This is what my “quick and delicious dishes” category on the Notions is all about. Trader Joe’s wouldn’t exist if there weren’t drunken housewives who can’t admit that they hate cooking.
It’s just that the styling and the tone are all wrong. This would be the greatest show in the world if it were hosted by Francine Dancer with a public access television aesthetic – the “Steven Seagal: LAWMAN” of the Food Network. But I guess you already knew that.
You probably know this word already; it’s not that rare a word or anything. I mainly like this word because I always forget its definition. I always think it means “vomit.” It doesn’t.
I’ve been reading a book by this writer who likes putting silly songs in his stories, so I’ve been inspired to write my own little song about this word so I can remember that I always get its definition wrong. It goes like this:
Yawp. A yawp is merely a sharp yell or a shriek or a noisy, foolish utterance. So even though it doesn’t mean “vomit,” it is not recommended that you yawp in the workplace.
Everybody’s crying today about Peter Pan. I myself have a lot of reservations about crying for him, but I suppose I need to keep a respectful silence today. It’s only appropriate. And truth be told, I very much admire the work he did in the ’70s:
Actually, I don’t know if the bicycle that Frank Zappa played on the Steve Allen Show was tuned using just intonation or equal temperament. And I don’t really care.
Today is comedian and television pioneer Ernie Kovacs’ birthday. Mr. Kovacs has a special place in my heart, for many reasons: his love of monkey costumes, his contributions to Mad Magazine, his luxuriant moustache… He would have been 90 years old today had he followed one of my simple rules for health and happiness: stay away from Westwood.
I am currently recommending Mr. Kovacs for Fancy Notions beatification so that he can become a patron saint of this website. Part of the beatification process involves research into the miracles performed by the candidate. Unfortunately, I was not able to find an online video clip of Mr. Kovacs’ miraculous all-gorilla production of Swan Lake, but I did find a decent performance of his simian troupe The Nairobi Trio. Enjoy:
I’m telling you, the television program Lost is like the worst, most charming ex-boyfriend you ever had. Every time it tells me it’s coming back on the air for a short visit, I always think, “I’m over you, Lost. I just don’t care about you and your drama anymore,” and then I go ahead and watch it and think, “Dang, he looks good,” and I’m hooked again. Damn you, Lost.
Anyway, a few friends have declined to join in on the group viewing of the show this season because of their belief that the show is a piece of Scientology propaganda. Apparently, this belief is rather widespread, and while there is plenty of evidence to support this theory (the negative portrayal of pharmaceuticals on the show, dormant volcanoes, JJ Abrams’ relationship with Tom Cruise, Dharma Initiative>>>Dharma & Greg>>>Jenna Elfman; okay, maybe that last one is a stretch but I’m on pharmaceuticals right now), I think we decided last night that the show is not Scientologist but Calvinist. All this talk about being able to go back and forth on a string but not being able to change the string is very predestination. And the idea of predestination really gets me into a ball. “Am I predestined to fall into this puddle? Or was that my doing? Why would anybody predetermine that I fall into a puddle?”
Screw it. Screw predestination. Obama said that there’s room for nonbelievers in America. I’m going to nonbelieve. I’m going to walk away from my desk, get in my car, and go buy the new Bran Flakes album. What kind of god would predetermine that?
Damn it.