The Steelers are no long negotiating an extension contract that runs through 2007 for Coach Bill Cowher, but "they remain hopeful". Personally,
I hope the buzz that he might retire after '07 IS true and I hope we DO get a new coach.
Cowher has been coach for FIFTEEN seasons and exactly how many Superbowls have we won in that time period? One. Friggin'. Superbowl. Whoopee.
Good news and bad news about that NASA moon landing tape. The good new is: it's been found! The bad news is: someone
taped over it with several episodes of The Young and The Restless. Oddly enough, that's the same thing I did with all my Mike South porn vids.
I've been having this weird dream for months and months now, and I can't figure it out.
I promise NOT to be graphic or give too much information. In the dream
I have to pee reallllllly badly, but when I finally find a public restroom, let's just say all the toilets are in desperate need of a flush.
I have absolutely no idea what it means, but it grosses me out and it keeps recurring.
Mr. G is a teeny bit--and when I say "teeny bit," I mean "majorly"--pissed off at me. I convinced him
to get a small chainsaw--one with very little kickback, thank you! I told him it would be a help to him in
case any of our trees fell after a storm. Then I promptly took the chainsaw to several of the bushes in our yard that I told him I'd leave alone.
Here's the deal: he plants 90 trees in the yard and as many times as I've said, "NO MORE F***ING TREES!"
he keeps planting. [Of course, I left out the asterisks when I yelled that.]
I figure he lied, so I lied. We're even now. The worst ones are the fruit trees. We have two apple trees and while that might
seem like a good thing, it's not when you have to pick up buckets full of "too small to eat, but too big to run over with the lawn mower" sized apples every week.
So what does Mr. G do? He plants a farking cherry tree. Now my dad told me I'd have to cross polinate with another cherry tree to get cherries, so I absolutely FORBID him to plant another tree. Weird thing is I distinctly remember our neighbors having ONE sour cherry tree when I was a little Goddess.
And I know they had cherries because my mother used to send us up with our buckets to climb the tree when she was in a pie making mood.
So anyway, Mr. G was ragging on me about this again last night and I finally said, "After seeing the bushes you know damn well
I can wield a mean chainsaw. Don't piss me off about this or Holly will have fresh bones for months!!!" Grrrrrr.....
I find the commercials for Tallegdega Nights
incredibly dumb. But the commercial for the movie starring Lewis Black in which the guy is
dressed like a hot dog and yelling, "Ask me about my weiner!" strikes me as absolutely hilarious.
Mushy said he thinks I'd be "perfect" for Wife Swap, but I can't EVER go on that show. The "nice mother" they send to replace me
will turn my offspring into malcontents. When I came back to the trailer, they'd probably stone me in the driveway.
And God forbid Mr. G should find out what it's like to be around a woman who doesn't
"jump down his throat about everything under the sun". Quite frankly, I can't take that chance.
The local news station is proudly promoting their new "weather blog." They encourage people
to email questions, which they promise to answer in the blog.
How many seconds do you think it's going to be before some big dumb jackass emails
them asking why they waste their time getting a degree when people could predict the weather more accurately with a dart board?
Okok, how many seconds do you think it will take me? Place your bets quickly, though, because
my "send finger" is getting itchy.
Boy George was pissed at the press and gawkers who watched him sweep the streets of New York as part
of his whopping five day community service sentence. George yelled, "....this is supposed to be making me humble..."
Humble? Really? I don't think so. It's a trade off so George wouldn't have to plead to a more serious charge of drug possession.