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Greg (xander6464) wrote,
@ 2012-07-27 09:11:00
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    Current mood: depressed
    Current music:Morning Report With Mark & Steve, WOC AM 1420

    It's Friday, You Bastards
    No matter how you score it, this wasn't much of a week to write home about. If you're normal. If you're abnormal, you really like hot humid weather, the Olympics and long sweaty bike rides. You might even transcend abnormal and be like Suzette, my Chef De Cuisine and Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Domestic Bliss.

    She was in Cedar Rapids today because she loves RAGBRAI ( She calls it the Tour De Iowa. And she's going to London tomorrow, which in and of itself doesn't make her crazy because lots of us completely normal people go to London all the time because we like things like the fish and chips at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese (, just as Chuck Dickens and Sam Johnson did and we like even more that we can further prove how not crazy we are by refusing to order the spotted dick.

    Then there's the Jack The Ripper Tour ( Jack wasn't his real name, by the way, and I would tell you who he really was because many of you are curious but I can't because one night in 1887, I had a few too many beers, at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, coincidentally enough because Jack liked it too---Not for the fish and chips and I can't say too much here and I'll always be the first to tell you that profiling usually doesn't work but I urge you to keep a very close eye on anyone who likes spotted dick---and accidentally let Jack's manager talk me into signing a non-disclosure agreement---He wanted it he said because I knew too much and that's the only time anyone has ever said that about me---that doesn't expire until March 13, 2094.

    So just be patient until then and in the meantime take your mind off it by going to London. After the Olympics, or you will be considered insane. Unless you're just going to see the women's swimming, volleyball and gymnastics teams but even then, is it really worth it? Or if your boss, The Chief, is making you go, because he thinks it's somehow part of your job description to do every stupid thing he tells you to do.

    Not that it's all bad, because yesterday I got to see Mitt Romney win 43 Gold Medals for putting his foot in his mouth. It would have been 44 but that Swedish judge is just impossible to please. Anyway, the point is that this week, just like all the weeks that preceded it and all the ones that will follow it, is nothing to write home about.

    Oh, watching the Wonder Republican With The Magic Underwear proving what a great statesman he will be by offending the only ally we have that is unoffendable might rate what you kids call a text or tweet but that can't really be considered writing. And there might be a massive wave of entertaining wardrobe malfunctions during the women's volleyball, swimming and gymnastics competitions but that's a long-shot at best.

    And my point that there never has been nor will there ever be anything to write home about still stands. Unless you count last Sunday night because that's when Drusilla gave me a complement. Have I ever told you about Dru? She's the bossy, overbearing, soulless, undead demonic serial killer with a bad attitude who happens to be my agent. I know, I know, being a bossy, soulless, undead, demonic serial killer with a bad attitude and an agent is redundant but redundancy is her Karma and she was given a choice to become a Senator, lawyer or an agent and she chose agent.

    She's also a Vampire and I only mention that because it's another abject lesson in why you kids should abandon racial profiling because she's a recovering bloodaholic who's been going to most of the meetings and hasn't fed on barely any humans for nearly three weeks now. And she's pretty perceptive.

    When she wants to be, which so far has been never except for last Sunday night when we were listening to Coast and George Knapp---Who really should give up his day job so he can do Coast full time. I'm still seeing him hosting a weekly prime-time edition, maybe on Wednesday nights from 8-12---was talking to Ryan Holiday ( about how no one wants to see a big block of text when they go to read a blog, which prompted her to say, "That's why your blog posts are completely worthless but thank God you have the ability to translate your stunted maturity into novels, movie and TV scripts. You know, if I could just find another adult who's only mentally 12 years old who knows how to construct a sentence, I could retire forever in less than a year."

    And when you think about it, that was only half a complement at best. And it was filled with lies and inaccuracies to boot. And when you think about it some more, you conclude that I really just should fire her. But I can't. Because she's so hot. So there you go. It was the one thing that happened this week that you can Tweet home about if you're so inclined.

    But don't reach for your iTwitter just yet because first things first, but before that, we need to get this party started because it's Friday night again. And that means it's time to throw our spotlight on Fifi, my Sommelier, and not just because she's wearing a see-through black Manav Ganwani gown. Well, OK, it mostly that but it's also because of this, the Theme Drink she invented for tonight:


    Tour De Iowa Cocktail


    1 oz Cognac
    1/2 oz Cointreau
    1-2 dash Bitters
    1 Absinthe (Deva)

    Mixing instructions:

    Stir first four ingredients with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Season to taste with Everclear.


    She must like RAGBRAI, too, but she looks very sane when she's wearing a transparent dress and isn't it great when cultures merge like that? Someone should give her a raise for thinking up a way to combine Absinthe and Everclear. I would if I had any money. I suppose I should just be thankful that someone is paying her and paying her to enough to wear designer dresses that leave too much to the imagination but are trying to get it right but has anyone ever gotten anywhere by being thankful?

    It seems like there should be a lot more in it for me. For a lot less effort. I'm the one who should get a raise! And it should be made retroactive at least to 1887 because Jack's manager was always sticking me with the check. And I could go way further back than that and spend all night talking about all the unfair things that have been done to me but I won't because I'm a forgive and forget kind of person.

    So just start giving me tons of money and we'll call it even. Then get me a beer because these Absinthe/Everclear concoctions taste a lot better on paper than they do in real life.

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