SO I was at Big Lots the other day finishing up my Christmas shopping.
I’ve taken care of the mailman, the dog walker, my pole dance instructor, the cat’s therapist, my wife’s electrolysis team, the nanny, my cane chair re-weaver, the nanny’s immigration lawyer, the housekeeper, my daughter’s pony’s ferrier, the gardeners, that airy-fairy woman who sages the doghouse twice a month, the paperboy, the baby sitter, my corset lacer, our pool guy, my haiku coach, the guy that hooked me up with free cable, my mani-pedi crew, the shoeshine boy, my personal watermelon, Bob from Sesame Street, the guy that hooked me up with my mani-pedi crew, the foreman on my ant farm, my corset unlacer, the garbagemen – pretty much everyone.
But like you, I’m always stumped: What do you get for your tattoo artist? He’s always the toughest person to shop for.
Thankfully, it was Big Lots to the rescue with a tasteful bottle of pinot grigio:
Now, this wasn’t any of that swill that Trader Joe’s peddles for two bucks. No sir – a quality wine like this’ll run you twice that.
Can we get a closeup of the label, please? Ah, here we go.
This will pair wonderfully with a 7-11 microwave oven-baked burrito in wrapper on a bed of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Or by itself, when relaxing with friends on a bus bench while wearing a trucker cap. Oh, this is perfect!
Last person crossed off the ol’ shopping list, I could finally unwind and really take in the sights of the season. Namely, hot sauce gift sets! Because, folks, what says Christmas more than the gift of hot sauce? I’ll tell you what: Nothing!
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
Just a suggestion, gang…? Say you and a pal have agreed to a $20 limit and you’re giving him (or her!) the five, ten, or fifteen dollar gift of Big Lots hot sauce this holiday season…?
You can make up the difference with these.
AND Joseph went unto the city of Bethlemoon to be taxed with Mary his wife, being great with child.
And she brought forth her first born son, and wrapped him in swaddling moon-clothes, and laid him in a space-manger; because there was no room for them at the starbase.
IT’S sweeping the nation!
It’s even the top story on Google News as I write this.
Yes! There’s no unrest in Egypt!
Obama has solved every problem in America!
And apparently Mitt Romney is neither at Disneyland nor pumping gas today! So why shouldn’t this be the top story?
Google News lets users personalize their content – how personalized is this? It’s geared to one specific reader: The one who wins the jackpot!
If someone does!
Welcome to journalism in the 21st century, folks!
And then there’s the Powerball site itself in all its Web 1.0 glory:
An over $500 million jackpot…and the game’s website – complete with ads for refinancing your home (in the off-chance you don’t have the winning ticket) – looks like the project the slow guy on the Ted Parsnips Web Design Team did for his junior high computer class project in 1997.
So, folks, go ahead and piss your money away on Powerball tickets if you want to. Go ahead! Who’s stopping you?!
Anyone with a brain in their head knows your only real chance at getting rich is with Scratchers.
So I exercised my God-given right, guaranteed by the Declaration of Independence, to vote today – shirtless – just as the Indians did back when they were voting for president hundreds and hundreds of years ago.
I’m telling you, though – they always manage to nail you with those stupid “I Voted” stickers on the way out, don’t they?
Now if someone can just help me get it off my back.
IT OCCURS TO ME when I recently complained about all of those pointless political flyers I’d received in the mail (final tally: a ludicrous seventy-eight!), yet expressed amusement and delight with one of Brad Sherman’s mailers attacking Howard Berman, you might have misinterpreted my fondness for the ad as an endorsement of Sherman himself.
No, no, a thousand times no!
(It also occurs to me that my, what, six readers, none of whom likely reside in Southern California, have any interest in a local political race. Yet here I go again.)
So in the interest of fairness – and, brother, if life were fair, neither of these jackasses would be running for office - in the interest of fairness, I offer what I have determined to be an accurate cross-section of the surprisingly disparate Brad Sherman voter demographic, courtesy the back page of that same flyer.
Who’s Voting for Brad Sherman?
1. Ethnically vague nap-sacked hermaphrodites
2. Retired organ grinders
3. Undocumented capybaras
4. Carmen Zapata circa “Villa Alegre”
5. Bobby Hill
6. Deep Roy
7. Fundamentalist Mormon sister-wives
8. Julian Assange
So there you have it. We’re all even-steven now.
Here’s today’s mail. …Oh my.
Magnificent. Even if ’72 is a little early for the disco angle.
Okay, I’m still not going to vote for either of these guys for Congress. But if Brad Sherman was nominated for Best Withering Political Attack Ad Campaign On Annoying Oversized Flyers That No One Ever Reads, he’d be on stage thanking the Academy tonight.
They’ve developed bed linens for people who hate changing their sheets!
“Honey, I was really hoping you would help us trim the tree this year – so we can do it together, as a family. And guess what – I picked up a special ornament just for you!”
“Shut up, Mom! Can’t you see I’m busy?!”
HEY, this is perfect for you! You love this show! Look what I found for you!
You can dress up as Glee! You can be Glee for Halloween!
Which reminds me of a funny anecdote!
As you know my father was a Carpenter First Class. Now he’s a Carpenter (Retired).
During the summer when I was a kid, I would work with him on his jobs. And by “work with him,” I mean of course stand around, get in the way and whine a lot.
Dad loved the show “Get Smart” and often he’d regale me with entire plots – complete with jokes – from specific episodes that he’d enjoyed. But he never referred to the main character as “Maxwell Smart” or “Max” or “Agent 86″ or even “Don Adams” or, I don’t know, “the secret agent guy” or anything like that.
Oh no. He always called him “Get Smart” as though the title of the show was the main character’s name.
He could remember 99 but not 86?! They’re both numbers!
Or is it “Roo8iü”…?
I enjoy Google’s silly little “Doodles” as much as the next person, and I really like the style of this one…but c’mon, how hard is it to design monsters that look like the letters they’re supposed to represent?
By the way, no, of course I couldn’t do any better, and yes, it’s easy for me to criticize because I’m kind of a jerk.
When refinancing your home, don’t go with the first deal you find.
Drive around and compare offers.
You might find a bush on the next corner with an even better rate.