Anybody else remember the song "detatchable penis?"
I didn't know there actually is such a thing. Turns out some actor used one to help him try to fake a drug test. He failed. Oops.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Poor dear
How will poor, maligned Carly Fiorina get by on just $21 milllion? Thanks for helping my husband's job move away so he had to leave something he truly enjoyed, Carly.

How come I can't get $21 milllion for getting fired? Hell, I'd happily be fired for only $1 million!

Hey ladies, don't want to use sex to get ahead at work?

Use sports! Today thanks to my knowledge of football and hockey I was able to cut through work crap and "bond" with two separate men because of sports. Coming together on a common ground of "what's wrong with hockey" and "why the Eagles lost" (sob!) we were able to quickly reach a work decision because there was some semblance of equality and none of the obnixious "this is my turf" posturing that I keep running accross. So, what to break the ice with the guys you work with? Learn to discuss the infield fly rule. Trust me, it works.

Baby, can I drive your car?
From my (temporary) window I can see the freeway. I watch the cars zooming by, writing in my mind scenarios of homecoming and evenings of relaxation. Cooking dinner while listening to John Coltrane and talking to your loved one about the day. Solo Thai takeout eaten in front of whatever goodie TiVO caught on your behalf.

Trucks filled with the sounds of Alan Jackson twanging the drivers along their way. Self-important BMW drivers too intent on their cell phones and not intent enough on the traffic.

Moms with kids tucked and buckled safely in, singing “The Wheels on the Bus” for the 17th time this month.

Every one in every car has a story. Someone just got fired. Someone got hired. Someone fell in love today. Someone broke up.

A few lucky drivers have furry passengers licking up their windows breathing down their necks.

Some cars are filled with silence. The calm, relaxed silence so needed at the end of a hectic day. The cold, uncomfortable silence of people who have run out of things to say to each other far too early in life.

Some drivers smile and wish herds of field-stuck cows “good evening,” as they speed along, enjoying the freedom. Others would probably be surprised to learn that there are cows along the side of the freeway.

In the sleepy, waning hour of the workday when I’ve had not enough to do and not nearly enough human interaction, I envy the cars on the road.

Right now, I would like nothing more than to be among them, heading home.

Have a good evening, cows.

The morning after
Alas, our beloved Philadelphia Eagles did not win the Super Bowl. Certainly my husband and I did everything in our part to bring about a victory. We were attired in the appropriate green clothing. We were drinking the right beer. I did not look during the crucial plays. It's amazing how superstitious even the most rational of people (and by which I mean my husband, not I) can be when the stakes are so high. We actually get anxious that our team might loose because we took off a hat or forgot to use the same water glass we used during the victorious playoff games.

I know Philadelphia is a blame kind of town. In fact there's a poll in today's paper asking whose fault it is that the team lost. (Poor Donovan McNabb is in the lead for taking the rap). But I hereby declare my innocence. I swear that I was in no way responsible for their defeat. I swear by the statue of "Dirty Bill" that I did nothing to jinx, hex, or otherwise stymie the Philadelphia Eagles in their quest to become champions.

Oh well...there's always next year.

Go Eagles, and thanks for a great season.