Tag Archives: friends

Any questions?

There is one word that immediately invokes my ire. Makes me see red.  And I admit my response is a bit unreasonable.

“Thoughts?”

I don’t know why I have such a negative knee-jerk reaction to the phrase.

Maybe because it’s not a phrase at all. 

You’re asking me a question — you want my input, my point of view, my expertise — but the very question is so non-committal, so throw-away.

Like you can’t be bothered to ask me a question with any nuance or…

WORDS.

Or maybe you don’t want to reveal your hand before I lay my cards on the table.  Well, it didn’t work this time, did it??

You see, I can read a lot into one word of conversation.

I’m a girl.

A cool grand

This is my 1,000th post on The Sticky Egg.

That’s 1,000 blog entries in 1,000 consecutive days.  No sick days.  No holidays.   No weekends.

As the Dowager Countess would say, “What is a weekend?”

I started the blog 1,000 days ago to give myself the opportunity to write for fun.  I added the daily deadline to make sure I actually did it…and that was very motivating.

At first.

Now it’s the folks who share their comments — and the readers brave enough to actually subscribe — who inspire me to come up with my brand of foolishness every day.

So, thanks for sticking with The Egg.  Hope to see you here for at least a thousand more!

My boys

Over drinks in Dallas last night, my friend Karen asked who were my favorite young actors in Hollywood.  Easy question for a girl who spends most weekends at the theatre, right?

I drew a blank.

I mean, I could name one or two…but a Top Ten?  That required more sober consideration.

So now I present — in no particular order (because that makes my brain hurt) — my Young-ish Actors Hall of Fame;

  • Ryan Gosling
  • James McAvoy
  • Michael Fassbender
  • Ryan Reynolds
  • Paul Rudd
  • Adam Scott
  • Daniel Radcliffe
  • Robert Pattinson
  • Joseph Gordon-Levitt
  • Hugh Dancy

Actually, now that I look at it, the first three on the list — Gosling, Fassbender and McAvoy — would be my Top Three.  As in I will see them in anything they do.  And am rarely disappointed.

So, there you go, Karen.

Next question?

Famous last words

In my college journalism class, our first assignment was to write our own obituary.

Most students in the class played it safe and wrote rather mundane re-tellings of their life accomplishments. When the instructor gave them back, he chastised us for our lack of imagination.  In our defense, it was the first assignment.

Who knew the guy had a sense of humor?

Well, he would have loved Michael “Flathead” Blanchard. His recent paid obit in the Denver Post was written with extreme entertainment value.  It includes lines like…

Mike wanted it known that he died as a result of being stubborn, refusing to follow doctors’ orders and raising hell for more than six decades. He enjoyed booze, guns, cars and younger women until the day he died.

It makes me sad that I didn’t meet Mike before he died.  The wake sounds like it will be fun, too:

He asks that you stop by and re-tell the stories he can no longer tell. As the celebration will contain adult material, we respectfully ask that no children under 18 attend.

Atta boy, Mike.

Delicious

Happy Bunny Day!

If you’re hanging out at home with family and friends and looking for a ‘bunny of a film,’ I recommend Miss Potter, starring Renee Zellweger and Ewan McGregor.

It wasn’t a big box office hit in 2006, and I haven’t seen it on premium channels much, either.  That’s why I bought the DVD.

I love it that much.

It tells the story of Beatrix Potter, the author of the beloved children’s book, “The Tale of Peter Rabbit,” and her quest for personal independence and publication at the turn of the century — no small achievement for a female in 1902.

She is assisted by rookie editor Norman Warne (McGregor), who publishes her books and becomes much more than a business colleague.

Their growing relationship is not happy news to everyone, and the movie tells the tale with old-world charm and romance, for which I am a sucker.  I think you will like it, too.  It is Easter, after all…

Enjoy the sweetness.

Malted dream balls?

I had a dream last night, and it was a real Whoppler.

Wait for it.

In the dream, I was talking with friends I worked with back in the day in Lexington, Kentucky.

We’re talking over 20 years ago.

I can only assume that the NCAA tourney earlier this week has brought that time in my life to the forefront of my brain.  But we weren’t talking about the Wildcats. No, we were all upset that we couldn’t find Whooplers in the local stores.

Not Whoopers, which is what I think we meant. Whooplers.

Even while the dream was taking place, I was thinking in the back of my mind…

Don’t we really mean Whoopers?

But I couldn’t seem to express it.

So I woke up this morning with Whoppers on the brain.  I hope I can find them in the local theatre.  (That’s the only place I ever eat them.)

And I hope my Lexington friend Paul Fast is doing well.  Because I dreamed about him last night.

Puppy power

HAPPY NATIONAL PUPPY DAY!

It may be an unofficial holiday — Colleen Paige, the editor-in-chief of “Pet Home” Magazine dreamed it up — but her intentions are good. She trying to promote animal adoption.

It was the best thing I ever did.

Smelly cab

Remember the Seinfeld episode where Elaine gets in the cab that reeks of killer B.O.?

The smell stuck to her clothes — was even in her mouth — long after she got out of the taxi.

I can do her one better.

After being out of town all week — four cities in four days, two missed flights, and more airplane boxed meals than I care to remember — I excitedly jumped in the cab to get home to my dog.  And what was there to greet me?

KILLER FARTS

I say farts (plural) because it wasn’t just one that faded away as I sat there.  No, the odor was constant and cloying and seemed to invade every pore of my skin.

Elaine, if you’re out there in your imaginary world, I’m pretty sure farts trump B.O. — I win!

Which means I lose.  Oh yes, I lose BIG TIME.

Dole out the pain

You know the pineapple, the international symbol of welcome and hospitality?

A Michigan man used one to knock his wife unconscious at their home last weekend.

When questioned by police, the woman — the pineapple victim — wouldn’t cooperate beyond providing her husband’s basic information.

Leave it to a man to turn fruit into a weapon.  But why pineapple, previously only associated with luaus and fruit salad and tacky bed-and-breakfast decor?

Granted, it’s big and beefy, and the outer shell would leave an interesting mark on someone’s face when it makes impact.  Plus, once you’re finished using it as a battering ram, the outside layer should be easy to cut away…so you can enjoy the juicy fruit within.

Now that I think about it, it’s genius.

Smelly cat

As society and technologies advance, some practices become archaic.

So why are people still bathing in cologne and perfume?

Most people in the United States — emphasis on most — bathe on a regular basis.  Lots of folks I know shower twice a day due to workouts and runs, god love ‘em.

So as a rule — and again, I’m generalizing here — men and women in the US are pretty darn clean.

So why the need to surround yourself in a cloud of cloying cologne?  When you walk down the sidewalk, it’s practically visible.  Passersby choke on it.  Folks who hug you are left unwilling wearers of it.

And let’s not even discuss your elevator assassinations.

Perfumes were initially reserved for burial rituals, then became popular as a way to cover the stench of the great unwashed.  We are no longer — as a rule — the great unwashed.  A little goes a really long way.

Think before you spray.