Sunday, November 13, 2005

November 11

Let every song be your favorite tune, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

"Hand over all your loot. Oops, sorry, I gotta take this . . ."
A woman in Virginia was caught on surveillance tape robbing four banks while chatting on her cell phone. The amazing part? Robbing a bank and yammering on a cell phone still isn’t as annoying as people who drive and talk on their cell phones.

You know who her accomplice was? The Verizon “Can you hear me now? Good.” guy.

Training the experts
It’s that time of year, the pre-Thanksgiving training of the frozen Turkey helpline experts: “OK, did you take out the bag of giblets? OK, is the oven on? Good. I think the only thing you forgot was to put the turkey IN the oven. No, don’t thank me, that’s why I’m here.”

Trorats
The USC Trojans have not lost since 2003; to show how long that is, 2003 is the last time a USC football player was seen in a class room.

Did you know the only class Heisman trophy winner USC quarterback Matt Leinhart has this Fall is ballroom dancing? This fact prompted the USC center to ask Leinhart; “Now, when you put your hands under my butt, it’s all about just hiking the ball, right?”


That marriage blew up
al Qaeda claims the Jordan suicide bombers were a married couple; see, I don’t think that would work, I would have already blown myself up and my wife would be saying, “I’ll be there in a minute, let me fix my hair.”


al Qaeda claims the Jordan suicide bombers were a married couple; apparently the guy’s wife offered him a chance to talk about their relationship or blow themselves up.


Trend setters
You know what the latest trend is in Hollywood? Serving sushi on the body of a beautiful naked female model. You know the second biggest trend? Guy’s who make inappropriate tuna jokes.


Stocked
Suspended Philadelphia Eagle Terrell Owens has his Atlanta suburb mansion up for sale; the house has six bedrooms and ten bathrooms, all the bathrooms come stocked with Donovan McNabb toilet paper.

Can you blame them?
There has been night after the night of violent rioting in France; apparently even the French don’t like the French.


Since you asked:

Saw the Rolling Stones at the first concert ever in PETCO Park in San Diego. There is one word that keeps coming back to me about that glorious night: Proud.


I was proud of the fun we had at dinner with new friends and the amazingly good food at a cool little place in the Gaslamp called "Chive." Right after dinner I was extremely proud of our amazingly good seats – we were in row nine. As in just nine of those little plastic chair rows from the stage – that another good friend got us from her brother, who just happens to be the business manager of a little band called The Rolling Stones.


I was proud of how pretty my wife, Virginia, looked, proud of the great looking crowd, proud that I have the good sense to love the Rolling Stones and keenly proud of how great our city and new ball park looked that night. It was PETCO Park’s prom.


But all of that pride cannot compare to the chest bursting joy I felt when the Rolling Stones exploded onto the stage with fire, fireworks and the blazing chords to “Start Me Up.” It filled me with pride to see plus sixty-year-old British mega-millionaires tearing the $9 million dollar stage apart.

As a harmonica lover, I went particularly insane over their ripping rendition of the always awesome “Midnight Rambler.” And when the small middle part of the stage dislodged and went out into the crowd, it came back when they tore up “Honky Tonk Woman” and Mick was, at one point, about twenty feet away.

One certain 62-year-old Brit kicked my ass. Mick Jagger sprinted, he skipped, he jumped, he cajoled, he crowed, he howled, he pranced, he gyrated and at one point, I’m not positive, but I think he flew. (Now that could be the Kettle one vodka tonics talking)

How good were our seats? When the Stones’s venerable and classy drummer, Charlie Watts, strolled to the front of the stage and casually tossed his drum sticks into the crowd, one hit the guy six seats in from me.

Oh, and the scorchingly hot little 26-year-old brunette who kept "accidentally" bumping against me all night wasn’t bad either, but don’t tell my wife.