The Blogging Blondes. Much to my complete surprise, I know them.
July 8, 2008 09:19 PM
Well, one of them anyway.
I got a text from a mutual friend yesterday, all "you have to turn on the homer right now!" So I did. Since it was the radio, it took me a minute to figure it out. Especially because the blogging blonde was not blonde the last time I saw her. She looked better brunette, but I have to say, the new color suits her personality better.
I think the most amusing thing is, they aren't even blogging.
Meet Beach Bob
May 12, 2008 04:08 PM
Maybe the lower taxes still don't make Florida worth it? Meet Beach Bob, retired court reporter. Current occupation: Plaintiff. He's suing the Lee County Sherrif's Office. The Naples News has the background:
Beach Bob likes to sunbathe in a Speedo.
Nearly every cloudless morning for more than 10 years, he’s wheeled his tattered lounger down to the same spot, which he says is due west of where the boardwalk opens onto the sand at Bonita Beach, and sets up camp for the day.
And so his retirement was going. Sun-drenched, uneventful. Until one day a Lee County Sheriff’s deputy stopped by and wrote him a warning for trespassing.
“Exposed scrotum,” the notice read. “Never return to Bonita Beach Main Access.”
Beach Bob wasn't going to take that lying down!
He hired a lawyer, studied maps of the Collier-Lee county line, trotted some of the other beach regulars up to Fort Myers to testify on his behalf. They reported the patch of sand he claims every day is in fact south of the Lee border, so Deputy William Dunaske had no business patrolling there anyway.
They said [he] never rolls in the sides of his Speedo like the deputy alleged.
He got the trespassing warning dismissed. And now he's brought a civil rights claim (he now suffers from insomnia because of the stress). Here's what would keep me up at night: Getting subpoened to testify about whether Beach Bob rolls in the sides of his speedo. Would that be how you'd want to spend your golden years? You sure you want to move to Florida?
Speaking of golden, here's a picture of Beach Bob:
Work it Beach Bob. Work it. If the speedo fits you must aquits!
If you're assuming this is a case of first impression you'd be wrong. A few years ago our own Miami University up in Oxford was sued by an employee after he was told he could no longer wear a speedo to swim at the university gym. People got to have their rights!
HT: Above the Law.
They say everything's bigger in Texas
February 13, 2008 02:43 PM
I don't know why, I just love that photo.
HT to Tammy Bruce, who says "It's Miss Tijuana!"
"The Groesbecks were another comely race."
January 22, 2008 10:05 PM
In the comments, Polite, Refined and Tall suggests that the video "Price Hill Girls" should be reason enough for me to visit the West Side. And here's what that comment reminds me of, and that's this passage from The Serene Cincinnatians, which was published in 1950 as part of the "Society in America" series (if you haven't already, do check out The Spectacular San Franciscans, the authors of which must have had no idea of what was yet to come):
The Groesbecks were another comely race. In mid-nineteenth century, the Misses Olivia Groesbeck and Sally Carneal were spoken of as the two most beautiful girls in Cincinnati. A portrait of Olivia by Thomas Buchanan Read, in the home of a kinswoman in New York, confirms not only the fact of her beauty but of Read's fine ability as a painter. She visited England once, and met the Duke of Wellington, evidently making a distinct impression upon that old connoisseur; for there is a legend that when, long afterward, he tasted some of Nicholas Longworth's wine, and praising it, asked where it came from, "Cincinnati!" he repeated. "Ah, that is where Miss Groesbeck lives."
Back in my Bachelor days, I used to think this anecdote would make a great toast. I would re-tell it, and then raise my glass to the beautiful young lady, and salute both her, and our fair city, saying, "To Cincinnati. Where Miss Groesbeck lives."
But you know what? We never had any Groesbecks as débutantes. Much less any from there.
I like them Price Hill Girls
Pop quiz. Sharon Stone's catsuit is __________.
January 18, 2008 12:34 PM
January 11, 2008 08:45 AM
The Rule: You let ladies go first when getting on an empty elevator. But when you're getting off a crowded elevator, the person who gets off first is the one closest to the door.
You do not slam yourself up against the wall so the ladies can try to stumble past you.
You do not snicker when the other man who's standing closest to the door knows the rules, and try to make him look like he's not being considerate of the ladies. He's being considerate by not blocking them in. He's also being considerate by wearing an undershirt to work, so while we're talking etiquette, you need to be wearing one. Chest hair is not allowed at the office.
An "I Only Date Democrats" Girl
January 1, 2008 11:41 AM
[Phote pulled due to guilt trip by Jackie Danicki. Jackie, at the very least, your friend has bitchface.]
A severe, manly jaw. Stringy hair. No make-up. Pale skin. Eyebrows tweezed into mean little lines. No sense of pride in her appearance. And just this aura of anger.
What makes her think she's in a position to be so choosy?
[Photo one of the many interesting ones that are always up over at 5chw4r7z.]
Fred Thompson, Campaigner
December 19, 2007 06:27 PM
In a word, he's awful. From Politico, we hear of a trip to a firehouse in Iowa, where the Chief offered to let him try on his hat:
Thompson looked at it with a sour expression on his face.
“I’ve got a silly hat rule,” Thompson said.
In point of fact, the “silly” hat was the one Chief McKenzie wore to fires and I am guessing none of the firefighters in attendance considered it particularly silly, but Thompson was not going to put it on. He just stood there holding it and staring at it.
Part of being a good politician is knowing what is and is not a silly hat. A fire chief's hat is not a silly hat. And telling Iowans that you have a silly hat rule? Why do that? Where's the no silly hat constituency?
Thank God, though, for smart wives:
To save the moment, Jeri Thompson took the hat from her husband’s hands and put it on her head.
“You look cute,” Thompson said to her. She did.
Cute and smart. Why isn't she the one running again?
Jeri took off the hat and McKenzie led the Thompsons over to a fire truck.
The chief invited Thompson to climb up behind the wheel, but Thompson said, “Naw, this is fine.” And he stood there looking at the fire truck.
Jesus, Fred. Just get on the damn truck!
But back to Fred's no silly hat rule. You know who wears silly hats? Delegates to political conventions, that's who. Fortunately for Fred, I don't think he'll be seeing many of those delegates. And their silly, silly hats.
BIG UPDATE: Boo hiss to the Politico for their coverage of this. CBS was also at the firehouse with Fred, and their video does not comport with the Politico's coverage. At all. I'd mostly known Politico for their fairly even-handed reporting, though their Republican blogger has an irrational anti-Romney tone to his posts. Guess that spills over to their coverage of Team Fred, too.
Now I understand the "green" shopping movement...
December 13, 2007 12:31 PM
...it's an idiot tax, like lottery tickets. Economic natural selection, but for rich, coastal people. From The New York Times:
Some designs marketed as environment-friendly might include only a fraction of organic cotton, or a tag made of recycled paper. And some so-called green fashion may be downright silly, like the Goyard canvas shopping tote shown in the Barneys “Have a Green Holiday” catalog: the bag is $1,065, plus $310 for painted monogramming of a triangular recycle symbol in gold. The canvas, the catalog says, is “100% recyclable.”
Isn't it good to know you can recycle that $1,065 canvas bag ($1,375, if you get it monogrammed)? What a great stewardship of resources!
And the old patchwork quilt has come full circle. At Barney's, you can get a Duro Olowu dress that is made from a patchwork of “recycled fabric.” And by that, he means "a mix of his own prints and some original, unused samples of leftover couture textiles he found."
It retails at $7,600.
Idiots Delight: "Green" galas are now the rage
November 30, 2007 03:01 PM
From The New York Times' House and Garden section, check out the events planner who tried to make his topiaries himself, out of 6,000 pounds of recycled paper strips:
It was the language of excess — those topiaries recalled the gardens of Versailles — expressed in the material of frugality.
But then he discovered that he couldn't use them in the museum where the event was to be held, because the material wasn't flame retardant:
“So then we had to find the organic fire retardant guy,” he continued, “and for two and a half months we were dipping 6,000 pounds of paper in fire retardant and then trying to dry it out by spreading it on the floors of our warehouse.” As the date of the event loomed closer, Mr. Stark looked out upon the soggy landscape, realized he needed help, and bought three energy-hogging commercial dryers to finish the job.
Organic fire retardant for the organic retardeds. Incredible.
As were the hosts who planned this entertainment for the swells at a book party:
The décor was supplied by Gelitin, four male Viennese conceptual artists who wore high heels and buckets on their heads but no pants, and who spent the evening building a plywood structure over the bewildered guests’ heads. Anthony Roth Costanzo, a countertenor, sang a 16th-century melody called “Flow My Tears.” And then the Gelitin members, along with three Icelandic artists, also men, from a collective called Moms, took the buckets off their heads and urinated — with dead-eye accuracy, said Dodie Kazanjian, a Vogue editor and one of the events’ hosts — into one another’s pails.