Passed tents

I went to bed wearing my earbuds last night - probably not great for my otological health - and a Michael Penn song, Strange Season, came on the iPod. The very first line of the song is: This story is past tense.

Maybe because it was 12:30 a.m., I started fixating on the lyrics, and I decided it would be a pretty great idea to write the homonyms for the last two words, "passed tents," on my left palm.

I thought that phrase would be a great name for... I don't know, something. Perhaps I could use it as the title of my next smooth jazz album or maybe I'd start a retail chain that sells deceased camping equipment. Then, I quickly remembered that I sort of suck at the soprano sax - and, for that matter, I haven't even recorded my first smooth jazz record - and that I have less than no interest in rugged outdoor sports.

So I decided I'd use it as the headline for a blog post. Which worked out great, except that - as you've noticed if you're still reading this - I really didn't have an interesting story to go along with my new clever headline.

Just so this isn't a total waste, I'll post a few photos from last weekend, when the world's best gift-giver, my gorgeous and hilarious wife,* treated me to a weekend in Hermosa Beach for my 74th birthday.**

Please pause and enjoy - I snapped 'em just for you.









* Damn, I'm lucky.
** Or something like that.

Short of useful

Just picked up a tasty submarine from my local Quizno's. I left the store with my sandwich and a plastic cup full of banana pepper slices, of course, but also a potentially useful observation for you.

You know those measuring-stick stickers that businesses put near their doorways so employees can easily tell how tall burglars are while they're running out of the store? Well, the one at this Quizno's started at 5 feet, 5 inches, which I think means that if you've just robbed a Quizno's and you're 64 inches or shorter, your odds of being caught are much, much lower.

I'm 5-10 or so, meaning I'd be well within the burglar-measuring range at Quizno's. Now, I'm not planning anything criminal, mind you. But next time I go there - just to mess with anyone who might be watching me - I think I'll duck on my way out.

Only 2.19178% of a year late

One of SFTC's most dedicated readers - and one of the proud few to be an official SFTC follower - recently celebrated a birthday. Since then, I have been trying to think of a brilliantly witty way to connect that important occasion into some other news item to create a birthday-worthy blog post. But while I was thinking about it, eight days - or 2.19178 percent of a year - went by.

That's not a very long stretch in geologic time, but in cyberspace and in the belated-birthday-wish genre, it's an eternity. The kicker is that I have heard that an SFTC birthday shout-out was one of the presents she most wanted. (Weird, because if it were me, a birthday mention on SFTC would be about 1,345 spots behind, well, one of these. But, really, who am I to judge?)

So without further ado - or as they say in my hometown, "without further adieu"* - I send the very schmanciest Happy Birthday+8 Days greeting to Jaya B.


* They don't really say this in my hometown; I think they say it in Indiana. I just didn't want to take a cheap shot at Indiana.

Nonstop fun

OK, alright, already. I'm back from cruising around the Land of Palin. Great trip, thanks for asking.

I'm pretty sure the funniest thing I saw while we were away was actually in Vancouver, B.C., before we set sail.

While we were on our way from the Vancouver airport* to the Vancouver pier,** we spied outside of the starboard side (I'm all shippy now, but for you non-sailors, that's means "the right side") of our bus a traffic sign that looked a lot like this one:


And I wondered: How strange to cross out a stop sign. Because, wait... remind me, what's the opposite of stop? I mean, couldn't they just do this?***


The hijinks didn't stop there. On board our big huge ship, the main dining room took up parts of the seventh and eighth floors. I assume there are some times at which the stewards have to travel between the two decks, which led me to believe that it's one of the rare times you can see a dumb waiter on an elevator.

(Crickets, right?)

Thank you. I'm here all night.

* Possibly the cleanest airport in the universe.
** Almost certainly the most Vancouverish pier I've ever seen.
*** Before I get all kinds of angry comments from traffic-sign-loving Canadians: Yes, I know the sign actually means that you're not allowed to stop your car by the side of the road in that area. I maintain that when it comes to traffic instructions, there's a subtle difference between "don't stop" and "no stopping," which is why god invented this sign.

A, but not WOL

Goin' fishing* for the next few days. Well, not actually fishing - I'm going on a cruise to Alaska. But I thought I'd write "goin' fishing" because it's folksy, and because I didn't want to reveal my exact plans. But now that I mentioned the cruise, so much for that.

This alleged "cruise ship" apparently charges 50 cents a minute for Web access, and while I dearly love all eight of you who read this blog, I don't think we're at that stage in our relationship where I pay 50 cents a minute to inform and enlighten you online.

Still, I do care. I know you'll want to be entertained while I'm gone, so I'm reminding you about a few of my favorite blogs that you should visit while I'm on the high seas:

Daddy Geek Boy: If you're looking for a entertaining blog written by a dude in greater L.A. (also how I describe SFTC), here you go. (That description sells DGB short, but it's midnight, I'm tired, and I have to leave for the airport in 6 hours.)

Color Me Katie: If you like wholesome goodness, sunshine, photos, pets and/or imagination, this is almost guaranteed to make you smile.

Swiss Miss: Satisfy your craving for cool design and neat new products.

Motherhood in NYC: I gather that most of MiNYC readers are moms. As you might know by now, I am not a mom. I do, however, consistently laugh MAO at this amazing blog.

Awkward Family Photos: Sort of self-explanatory, isn't it? Also sort of un-PC. Which is OK with me - I'm just sayin'.

I'm back next week - possibly with vacation stories. That'll get you to come back, right?

*Since I'm writing Goin', I suppose I should just write fishin', too? WWSPD,** right?
** What Would Sarah Palin Do?

Hard-ship

I'm not really sure why it's necessary, but boating has a language all its own.

So, as I'm sure you all know, the sides of a vessel are not front, back, left and right, but bow, stern, port and starboard. As if there's a need to use some super-secret code for the highly sensitive information that denotes which part of the boat you're talking about. Call me crazy, but maybe if sailors used plain English, they'd have an easier time warding off those pirate attacks.

I mention this because this weekend on the 405, we drove by a small truck that was towing a fishing boat. And, you know how every boat has its names painted on the back ... er, sorry ... stern? Seems like boaters usually pick women's names (Andrea Gail, anyone?), weather phenomena (Hurricane, maybe) or cliches that were probably lifted from Jimmy Buffet songs (say, Life's a Beach).

Well, this boat on the 405 had a name that didn't quite fit into any of those categories, and frankly, I couldn't figure out why someone would paint this on the rear of their ship. Unless it was one of those nautical code words I just don't understand. But there it was in big, black, bold script: Priapism.

Gonna wash that flu right out of my hands

I'm sure this has been covered elsewhere, but everyone* is clamoring for SFTC updates on swine flu, so I wanted to share the following thoughts:

First, with all of the talk of quarantines and school closings and everything else, it seems like we're supposed to be scared shitless of this unprecedented pandemic. But the experts keep telling us that the way to prevent this horrible, deadly disease is by washing our hands? That makes me a lot less worried: If Softsoap and agua are the keys to prevention, how bad can it be?

Oh, and my workplace has responded to this massive health threat by posting laminated placards with hand-washing instructions above every sink in every bathroom. I don't understand - are there some people who have been doing it wrong? (Now, wait: At what point do you actually dry your hands? Before or after the soap part?)

Second, this magic virus is changing names faster than P. Diddy in a witness protection program. Started as swine flu, of course, but now most everyone now seems like they're on board with the H1N1 moniker. I'm proposing - right here, right now - that the virus take the next step, and adopt as its new name a symbol, kind of like Prince did.

What do you think of this? ۞

* At most, one person.

In which I atone for skipping most of my 10th grade English assignments

I don't really remember much about my 10th grade* English class, other than:

1) It took place in what the school euphemistically called a "relocatable classroom," or what we students more accurately called a "trailer next to the baseball field."

2) Although we did have your run-of-the-mill high school English homework - like writing b.s. essays about Red Badge of Courage (which, come to think of it, I don't think I ever actually read) - our teacher, Mr. Mann, was pretty cool and let us spend most of our class time on crosswords, seeing who among us could finish that day's puzzle first. Which I liked because - and I don't mean to brag - it was usually me.

3) One other run-of-the-mill aspect of the class was that we had to write poetry. For an entire semester, most of our grade was based on our ability to put together rhyming couplets and stanzas and AABB stuff.

Now, despite what you may guess by reading this artfully crafted blog, I could never make my brain produce poetry. I'd sit there and stare at my notebook paper, pen in hand, and just... nothing. I didn't get it (I still don't) and I didn't want to. So when it was time to hand in each new assignment, I'd basically walk up to the teacher, shrug my shoulders and keep on walkin'.

And yet, despite the fact that I handed in not a single poem, the teacher gave me a B+ for the semester. Clearly, he took pity on me - but I think he justified handing out the decent mark because he loved crossword puzzles and he had watched me strut my crossword stuff all year.

And now, I get to my point: If you read the comments that followed my ingenious post from yesterday, you know that there was a near uproar - can two people typing blog comments create an uproar? - about the fact that I hadn't yet shared my thoughts about... swine flu.

Clearly, what this world needs is more analysis of this unimaginable pandemic that, despite being unimaginable and a pandemic, has caused only a few deaths and a few dozen illnesses. So today I kill two birds with one blog post: I shall break my silence on swine flu and, simultaneously (Mr. Mann, are you reading?), finally, write a few of those poems that escaped me in 10th grade.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen: It's Swine Flu Haiku.

The only problem is that I wrote two and couldn't decide which one I liked better. Since SFTC is all about interactivity, I invite you to vote for Haiku One or Haiku Two - and/or write one of your own. (Remember, it's 5 syllables / 7 syllables / 5 syllables.) Just click that Comments text below and start writing!

Here we go:
|ONE
swine flu all the rage
but not many confirmed sick;
octopi retreat

|TWO
octopus news fades
while swine flu gets the headlines.
some epidemic!

* Actually, I don't even remember if this was 10th grade, or 9th or 11th. But it took place in high school for sure, and the rest of the information is accurate. So if I'm off by a year, sue me.

Five for Friday, part 4

Welcome to the long-awaited return of FfF. Apparently, it has been seven weeks since I've been able to come up with five comment-worthy subjects on a Friday, although - judging by what you're about to read - perhaps I should have waited seven more. You be the judge.

1. The good thing about Five for Friday is that even if each of the five items I write is only 21 percent as interesting as a standard SFTC post, you, the reader, still come out ahead.

2. As I've mentioned once before, for the last few years, I have been interested in approximately zero new TV series. Which was probably a good thing, since it gave me more time to do useful things like play word games on Merriam-Webster.com. Oh, yeah, and exercise.* Unfortunately, I'm at least moderately into four shows that have debuted since January. (How did network TV programmers know that one of my new year's resolutions was "watch way more television"?)

First among them is Trust Me, which follows Ed and Will (actually Conner and Mason, but you probably get what I mean) and their coworkers at a Chicago ad agency. Random Chicago references, the marketing world, and a good cast were enough to keep me tuning in the first few weeks, even though I thought it was all taking a while to come together. But either my senses have been dulled or Trust Me has sort of hit its stride in the last two weeks, and it's now a must-watch for me. The banter between the two main characters is always entertaining (not quite Rory-and-Lorelai-esque, but not bad) and Monica Potter's Sarah Krajicek-Hunter character (or maybe just Sarah Krajicek now) keeps getting more fun to watch.

I've also been tuning in to Lie to Me, perhaps because the name sounds so similar to Trust Me and I want to make sure I don't miss any Chicago ad agency hijinks. But also perhaps because it's almost exactly like House, M.D. - except that instead of watching Hugh Laurie unravel medical mysteries in spite of the lies his patients tell, we're watching Tim Roth unravel crime mysteries in spite of the lies his suspects tell.

Quickly, the other two shows I might have to keep watching are Castle, which manages to overcome major believability gaps because of the great lead characters, and The Unusuals, which debuted this week. Think of it as NYPD Blue meets... hmm... Mystery Men, except with less screen time for Dennis Franz's ass. It's tough to gauge after one episode, but if the Unusuals keeps up the uber-quirkiness combined with semi-realistic stories, I'll stay tuned.

3. Admit it. If you read a news story about a top-ranking intelligence official being photographed holding papers marked "SECRET" (apparently in capital letters, so you know it's serious) in such a way that the information on those papers was legible to anyone who zoomed in on the photo, well, you'd assume that the jackass in question was American. Nope, turns out they grow 'em dumb in England, too.

4. I realize the year is young, but I'd be willing to bet that I Love You, Man will hold its own for the next eight months and remain my favorite comedy of 2009. It wasn't an all-time great by any means, but I was thoroughly entertained and I laughed out loud several times. I'm just concerned that Hollywood is going to be unable to make a decent comedy that doesn't star either Paul Rudd, Jason Segel or Seth Rogen (who, almost miraculously, was not in ILYM) ever again. We'll see.

The movie scored extra points with me because Peter and Zooey (Rudd and Rashida Jones) get married June 30 in Santa Barbara. Which is pretty much exactly what my drop-dead gorgeous wife and I did. Cool, right? That same drop-dead gorgeous wife also made reservations for us at James Beach, the Venice restaurant where Peter and Sydney (Segel) have their first man-date. Fish tacos, here we come.

5. Apparently, someone out there took offense at my posts about octopi threatening to displace pirates as the "it" trend of the decade. Because, in case you missed it, pirates have muscled their way back into the headlines, hijacking stuff, and probably saying aaaargh and letting parrots hang out on their shoulders. I just hope that posting this item doesn't add fuel to the fire in the rivalry between eight-armed sea creatures and swashbuckling buccaneers.

Sadly, I fear we're headed for a massive octopus-vs.-pirate showdown on the high seas, sometime before the end of 2009. If that happens, you can be sure you'll read about it right here. You're welcome.

* Not so much on the exercise.

Catching on

If you're even remotely paying attention, you've seen that there are a few ads on this rather handsome blog page. Google puts them up there, in exchange for offering me the remote hope that at some point - and at the current pace, that point would be in 2014 - I'll get a check for my first 100 bucks of ad revenue.

I already know what I'm going to buy with it: A soy chai latte. Think I'll be able to get a grande for under $100 in five years?

I'm not sure that I read my "agreement" with Google (like, if I'd actually read the agreement, I might have tried to negotiate a few of the finer points with them), but I think it says I'm not allowed to overtly encourage you to click on any of the ads. But you're smart, you can see where I'm going with that train of thought, right? Also, I don't think I'm allowed to click on any of the ads myself, because I'd be lining my own pockets with Google's hard-earned cash, and that would obviously be unfair to them, because they've worked so hard on writing and publicizing my blog.

In any case, I noticed today that one of the ads - when I was looking, it was about halfway down on the right side - is a bright, colorful graphic that reads, "WhatIsTheNewBlack.TV."

To which I had two responses:
1) I'm glad to see that the title of my recent post about the Octopus Decade is catching on in such a big way. Savvy online marketers are obviously tapping into the hype, and it's clear that SFTC was ground zero for this wave of hackneyed "the new black" metaphors.

2) I'm curious as heck about what kind of fascinating content must be on the web site that's advertised in that colorful ad. And yet, I don't want to click on it myself (for fear of disrupting my close personal partnership with Google), and I wouldn't encourage you to do so (at least not overtly). But if you do, leave me the info in the comments below, alright?

This isn't even remotely related, but I also decided I'm going to stop saying "No worries" as a substitute for "It's alright" or "No problem." The phrase seemed sort of cool in an appealingly laid-back kind of way the first time I started hearing it regularly, back around 2000. But I've had enough.

Me and the amazing technicolor dreamblog

I feel like I'm in a wicked blogging dry spell, and I need to get something... anything... posted this week. I mention that because, under normal circumstances, there's no freakin' way I'd write what you're about to read:

Two nights ago, I had a dream that I was in the audience for a taping of Dancing With the Stars (which I never watch*) and was asked by Christina Aguilera (who I'm pretty sure is not even a contestant**) to dance with her. I acquitted myself fairly well on the dance floor, which I offer as proof that this was, in fact, a dream. And also: WTF?

Then, flash forward 24 hours. (How about that for drama?) I don't remember all of the details, but in last night's dream I sat down and had a very pleasant chat with a freckle-free Lindsay Lohan.

If Ashlee Simpson appears in my sleep tonight, I will be drinking heavily before bedtime tomorrow.


* Seriously, never. Well, except for last season's finale, but then only because my parents were fascinated with the whole Warren Sapp thing.

** Not that I would know because, again, I never watch the show. Also, I've listened to approximately one Christina Aguilera song in the last 18 months, so - really - no idea what's going on.

Is there any other kind?

For months, I've been confused by a sign posted in a parking area near my office. It reads: "Rear and side-loading vans only."

Are you aware of any other types of vans?

In hot water

One of the few things that's even better than a nice, hot shower is a nice, hot shower after the water in your apartment complex has been turned off for the previous 36 hours. I know because I just took such a shower.

At one point during our water-free weekend, I described the situation as "possibly the worst thing in the history of the world." Was that exaggerating? Well, maybe. In any case, I don't think I was too smelly by the end of the ordeal, but I did notice Sampson the Wondercat turn up his nose as he walked by me this morning.*

Anyway, if this ever happens to you and you live near LAX, it turns out the bathrooms at the Bristol Farms grocery store in Playa Del Rey are pretty nice.


* This sentence was added for comic effect and is not technically 100 percent true.

Five for Friday,* volume 3

Time to get this party started again. I just got back from the Apple, and being on the road temporarily derailed my plan to give you another all-new edition of Five for Friday. (Past entries here and here.)

That actually worked out alright, because I now have five hard-won random thoughts for you.

1. If you're traveling and you forget the handle of your Gillette Fusion razor, but remember to bring your cartridges, all is not lost. It turns out that it is possible to shave by just holding the five-blade cartridge between your thumb and index finger and, basically, hoping for the best. However, your face may not appreciate it very much.

2. There were three things I wanted to eat while in New York: jelly grahams, actual New York pizza (because I've found only one place in L.A. that makes a reasonable facsimile thereof), and a hot dog from a street cart. Sadly, I went a perfect 0 for 3. I had opportunity and I had motive, so it's my fault alone that I didn't make the effort to accomplish my culinary mission. But I'll still blame it on my trainer who has severely dampened my enthusiasm for eating food that... what's the phrase I'm looking for? oh yes... tastes good.

There is an upside, however. When I found the jelly graham link that I used for the preceding paragraph, I learned that Russ & Daughters, purveyors of the only jelly graham you need to know, now sells these life-changing treats online. (I'm pretty sure that last time I checked, everything else on their site was available for delivery except for jelly grahams.) So if I ever decide it's worth 25 bucks (including delivery charge) to eat a dozen graham crackers covered in raspberry preserve, all enrobed in creamy dark chocolate,** I'm all set.

3. Sure, whatever you say, Bill.

4. I'm sure glad I'm not an employee of the state of California. That could really suck. Oh, wait a minute....

5. One might think that if you bore a marked resemblance to the most hated man in New York, you would avoid calling attention to that fact. One might think that - if one had not met my grandfather.

As we approached the front door of a Long Island restaurant Saturday, he turned to the couple walking next to him and asked: "Excuse me, do I look like anyone you've seen in the papers lately?"

* Yes, I realize it's not Friday, but Five for Tuesday just doesn't have the same ring to it.
** I might very well decide that it's worth it, and soon.

Five for Friday, round 2

Five for Friday was such a big hit* last time that I thought I'd bring it back for another shot at stardom. Your comments are welcome. I think.

1. I've just been thinking this week that I'd like to check out an event that has circumstance but no pomp. You hardly ever hear about those.

2. This morning, I walked past a former presidential candidate who also happens to be a former NATO Supreme Allied Commander Europe, one General Wesley Clark. You know you're big-time when your actual job title - and not some stupid dot-com-era job title that you invented so it would sound like you're soooo out-of-the-box - has "Supreme" in it.**

3. On the way home from the gym last night - feel the burn, baby - we drove past a black SUV with a bumper sticker that made my seriously ravishing wife start cracking up. Luckily, we were on the 405, so of course we were going about 5 miles per hour and we got a good look at it. It was memorable, because it takes a very special bumper sticker to make my wife burst into laughter, let alone proclaim her intent to affix said bumper sticker to her beloved Jeep. What bumper sticker, you ask, could have possibly had such an effect?

Here's the poster-size version for ya'.

But wait, there's more. As we were pulling into the alley behind our apartment, we looked in the garage next to ours and there was the exact car with the crack-up-inducing bumper sticker. Our neighbors have such a good sense of humor. Or maybe they're proud to be Catholic. Eh, either way.

4. It's too bad Blago is out of office now, because when a serious newspaper can have this much fun writing photo captions about him - this image and description were also on the top of the front page of the national edition of today's Times - well, you want that guy to stick around a little longer. (The caption is great not only because The King is in the background of this image, but because G-Rod loves Elvis and frequently talked about him.)

5. My 10 favorite words from the ex-governor's closing statement yesterday? Since you ask, I'll pick these: "I did a lot of things that were mostly right."


* In the same sense that Renee Zellweger's New in Town flick is going to be a big hit.
** Thanks, MediaEmerging.com, for the list of stupid job titles.

Making short work of the presidency

I thought I'd heard that Obama was 6' 2", but now I'm starting to wonder. Or else maybe Ray LaHood and this Lisa Jackson from the EPA are like 9 feet tall.

No matter his actual height, I was very pleased to read that the new prez is already starting to fix some of the environmental stuff that Bush broke. It's early and these are just baby steps, but they're baby steps in the right direction.

Five for Friday

To round out the work week, here are five unrelated thoughts, with a minimum of explanation.

1. I don't know how long it'll survive the cola wars, but I have to say: Coke Zero actually isn't too bad. I'm not sure if it has all of the proverbial "cola taste" but it's got most of it.

2. In-n-Out Burger is, to be sure, fun to say the first 18 or 19 times. But their burgers? Vastly, vastly overrated. I'll take Fatburger or Carl's Jr. any day of the week and thrice on Sunday. Shoot,* I'd take McDonald's, Wendy's and BK, for that matter. And I'm glad In-n-Out potatoes are peeled on site and their fries are cooked in non-something-or-other oil. However, I am not glad that they taste like styrofoam. Memo to everyone else in L.A.: Get over it.

3. Neckties are just really stupid. Maybe this has already occurred to you - if not, indulge me and think about it for 20 seconds. What is their point? I say this as a former necktie devotee, and one of the founders of my high school's short-lived Twelfth Grade Tie Club.**

4. I strongly believe that if you listen to this song by the Redwalls, you'll be in a better mood after the song than you are now.

5. Go Ravens.

* Too much?
** I'm somewhat serious, and no, it was not a private school.

Duty denied

Oh, yeah, and in case you were wondering, this was how jury duty went yesterday:

8:15... Arrive at court house; wait in line for about 10 minutes to get through metal detector.

8:25... Take a seat in jury waiting room, which is a pretty nice jury waiting room. Two newer computers with free Internet access, a big TV in a separate room, comfy seating. I could get used to this.

9:00... Audio of juror orientation is played over the waiting room p.a. Sounds like it was supposed to be accompanied by video, but there's no video anywhere, so we all stare into space while a disembodied voice tells us how important we jurors are.

10:30... Half of the potential jurors - but not me - are called to a trial.

10:45... The other half are told that nothing else will happen until 1:30, so we're free to take a 2 hour, 45 minute lunch break. Which seems OK.

1:10... Return to jury waiting room 20 minutes early. Not sure why, except that...

1:18... Jury waiting room announcer lady announces about 15 names and tells us that the case we would have heard has been settled, and we're free to leave. Or we can stay until 2 to hear the judge explain what happened.

1:18.01... I decide not to stay until 2 to hear the judge explain what happened.

2:30... Nap.

So there you have it. America's justice system works again. I'm honored to have served. Look forward to doing it again next year.

Duty calls

I'm on jury duty starting Monday. I'm certainly in favor of everyone having to do their part for our wild and wacky legal system (I'm just calling it wacky because this was the weekend OJ got sent away for stealing sports memorabilia, a decade or so after skating for two murders), but I just hope it doesn't adversely affect my blogging schedule.

Actually, I'm probably the only person I know who actually looks forward to jury duty. I'd kinda like to get in the box and listening to some riveting testimony. We'll see how that works out.

Whatever happens, it'd sure be cool if I get to see an attorney wearing a shirt that says "No cupable" - y'know, like the guy in this post.

How am I preparing? I loaded some new This American Life, Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me and All Songs Considered podcasts onto the magic little music box, in case I have to amuse myself while waiting to be called. I bought a 230-count box of granola bars at Costco (actually, it might have "only" been 96 bars) (you may mock me, but what if it's a long trial?). And I'm practicing saying awesome things like res ipsa loquitur and voir dire. Yes, I know I probably can leave those phrases to the professionals. But just in case.

What's with all the pirates?

I don't know if people traditionally give their spouses presents for Thanksgiving, but by writing a post with the above headline, I just gave one to mine. Happy Thankgiving, my beautiful wife!

(She thought it was funny when I asked her that very question last week - although I think it was more because I was cracking myself up at the time than because of the question itself.)

If you didn't catch my earlier nonsense on Pirates Gone Wild '08, you can catch it here.