Well, I’ll be! Joe the Plumber has an agent?

From the New York Times Caucus blog:

“Joe the Plumber is fast becoming a brand,” said Jim Della Croce, president of the Nashville-based Pathfinder Management group, who is part of the trio that will be representing Mr. Wurzelbacher from now on. “He is a dynamic speaker and an everyman who has become an overnight celebrity. It’s going to be our job to find Joe’s strengths and give him some options.”

Mr. Della Croce said he was even thinking of having Mr. Wurzelbacher record some music, perhaps a song or two of Mr. Tippin’s. “Joe is a hard-core country music fan, and he can carry a tune,” he said. “We’re not calling him anything, though, until we get him into a studio.”

So basically all I need to do to become an overnight celebrity is a) owe a bunch of back taxes, b) buy a plunger, and c) get mentioned 23 times in a presidential debate.
Ahhh...the simplicity of the American dream.

Photo Credits:

dbKing, Flickr

New York Times Bestseller? Probably Not.

Editor friend: In an amazing twist of fate the internet decided that I would be the reviewer of a book titled “THE BAILOUT: Corporate Greed or Foreign intrigue.” Some PR person sent it to me.
Me: HAHAHAHAH—“The BAILOUT”? You have got to be kidding me. Is it set on Wall Street?
Editor friend: It’s set in Moscow. The PR person sent me the first chapter.
Me: I love when people scheme and capitalize on whatever is happening in current events.
Editor: I know.
Me: A book called “The Bailout” set in Moscow? SERIOUSLY? Where is the author from? New York?
Editor: No, even better: Portland, Oregon.
Me: This is like when you find out about Madonna’s divorce and then 24 hours after she files for it there's a book on Amazon called “The Kabbalah Bracelet that broke it all: The True Story of the Madonna and Guy Ritchie Divorce.” And you wonder: How in the WORLD did someone research, write and publish this book in a day?
Friend (while looking at the author’s website): Apparently this guy does this a lot… he has a booked titled “The Jewess” and another one titled “The Politician.” Would you like me to forward you "The Bailout" chapter?
Me: No, I would prefer you peruse the chapter and send me the best quotes from it.
Friend: Okay, done.

Without futher ado, a quote from "The Bailout" that probably sums up the entire book:


Sacha leaned forward in a mock conspirator-like posture and said in a low voice, “Well, little Dimetria, have you and your brilliant Professor Korski come up with any ingenious schemes to financially ruin the United States yet?”



Ha—that’s what caused the bailout? Wait till Congress finds out about this.

Best Seller Corner
Vituh, Flickr

When Kabbalah Starts to Unravel…

The problem with branding your religion with a high profile celebrity: when they get bad press…so do you.
(Ex. Tom Cruise and Scientology: The Oprah Show couch jumping, the fanatical youtube scientology recruitment video Cruise did, the intense Ritalin interview with Matt Lauer…)

Madonna has been the Kabbalah poster child for years—but now Kabbalah leaders are upset with her for her high profile divorce.

I guess no one—not even a trendy religion—likes to be associated with a losing ticket…

Photo Credits:
Murder, She Wrote
Bhollar, Flickr

One of those “I love my job” kind of days.

There are some people that you just have the utmost respect for—today I got to talk to one of them: The founder of Habitat for Humanity.
It inspired me so much I wanted to run outside of my office with a hammer and a hard hat and start building a house made out of office supplies in the middle of K Street for a family in need.

Baby's First Cuss Word

Security officer: Hey girl! How you been? You need to see a picture of my granddaughter!
Me: I’ve been great! I want to see that picture. How is she doing?
Security officer (hands me her digital camera): Great! She crawlin and walkin everywhere now!
Me: Whoa! Already? How old is she now?
Security officer: 18 months!
Me: Is she talking yet?
Security (proudly): Oh yea, can’t shut her up.
Me: What were her first words?
Security Officer (straight faced): Sh@t.
Me: Excuse me?
Security: They were “mama,” “dada” and “sh@t”.
Me (unsure how to react): wow…
Security Officer: Yea I hurt my finger one day and yelled it out and then she started repeating it. We don’t want to tell her to stop—because then she’ll say it even more—so now she says it ALL THE TIME. She’s always like: “sh@t,” “sh@t,” “sh@t!”


Pacifiers at Fredriksberg Have
ZaxEr, Flickr

A Blind Date (with Craig’s list)

Guy: So you know how my friends and I have that annual post-college Christmas retreat?
Me: yea.
Guy: Well this year my friend X (remember him?) decided he was going to post an ad on Craig’s list in order to get a date for it.
Girl: Seriously?
Guy: Yea, it was a perfectly normal ad designed to attract only perfectly normal girls.
Me: and?
Guy: It’s been up less than 16 hours and he already has four girls!
Me: No WAY are they normal girls.
Guy: Yes they are. They even sent pictures—they’re all cute—and he’s been emailing them.
Girl: What kind of NORMAL girl responds to a CRAIG’S LIST AD?
Guy: One is a student at UMD—studying finance and international affairs. Another one is a nurse. See? NORMAL girls.
Me: I bet their pictures are from like 10 years ago—before they gained three hundred pounds.
Girl: Yea these girls have GOT to be weird—no normal girl responds to a Craig’s list ad for a date.
Guy: Yes they do! One of the girls said she was looking for Red Skins tickets and accidentally came across his ad. She said she’s not the kind of girl that responds to personal ads—but she decided to do it just this once.
Me: Translation: when a girl says she’s not the kind of girl that responds to person ads that means SHE’S EXACTLY THE KIND OF GIRL THAT RESPONDS TO PERSONAL ADS.
Guy: Nope, he’s been talking with them and they ARE normal. Actually all of us guys sat down with him last night to write responses to each girl.
Me: So each of these girls is basically corresponding with 4 guys, in the form of one person?
Guy (self satisfied smile): Yes.
Me: Well which one is he going to pick?
Guy: He’s going to go on dates with all of them and then pick one.
Girl: (Rolls her eyes)
Me: I can’t believe these girls are doing this; they’re not even using a lame filter like e-harmony.
Girl: Just remember you get what you pay for. And Craig’s list is free…
Guy: This is turning into possibly the greatest social experiment of our time. Last night we all determined: “X sat on the couch all afternoon and met two cute girls today. We’re never leaving the house again.”


This is how twenty something year-old guys in our generation think.
(I’m scared for the future of procreation.)

Photo Credits
Classified
Compassionateeye, Flickr

Index This!

You know how sometimes when you are secretly eating a frozen Ho ho in the hall closet, a BRILLIANT Alexander Graham Bell type idea will occur to you and then you gather all your friends and you’re like: “GUYS you know how we have microwaves that instantly heat things up? I’m going to invent a freeze-o-wave that instantly cools things down! It’ll be REVOLUTIONARY!”
And then everyone is all: “Dude, are you eating a FROZEN HO HO? SICK. By the way—that’s already been invented. It’s called liquid nitrogen—DUHH.”

And then you feel really small and creatively thwarted.

Well, a friend just recommended this blog to me and I want to be like: “HEY GUYS: I just discovered this blog; it is SO AWESOME,” but the sensible part of me realizes that everyone else has already read it and referenced it—including the guys from the Freakonomics blog.

The blog I’m talking about is www.indexed.blogspot.com . It’s marvelous because it uses simple index cards and humorous diagrams to explain relatively complex (or stupid) ideas, concepts and occurrences.
For example: the relationship between despair, isolation and celibacy? (SWEAT PANTS).

Here is one of my recent favorite blog posts titled:

YOUR ONE-STOP-SHOP for HALLOWEEN

Prince Charles Saves the Planet (One bottle of Pinot Grigio at a time.)

In the name of all that is environmentally friendly: This article about Prince Charles’ eco-friendly Aston Martin had me floored.
His Aston Martin runs on green fuels—which in this situation means WHITE WINE AND CHEESE.
Seriously.

We get it Prince Charles.
We get that you are worth billions of pounds and can have people sent to the gallows.
We get that you can swim around in a river of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck used to do in that DuckTales show on the Disney Channel 10 years ago
We get that you are British royalty and as a result when Princess Diana died your MUM refused to fly the Buckingham Palace flag at half mast because of Princess Di's peasant bloodline.
WE GET IT.

But do you really have to fill your Aston Martin with gruyere and champagne to rub in the fact that the worldwide recession isn’t hitting you?

Why not just fill it with ingots of gold and speed around town waving at your loyal subjects while glittering gold smoke shoots out of your exhaust pipe and settles on the faces of the local paupers skipping after your car?

What does this wine and cheese Aston Martin situation say about the green movement 15 years from now? Basically instead of topping off at Exxon Mobile stations, people will be topping off their tanks (and stomachs) at a local vineyards instead? I’m surprised MAAD hasn’t sent out a press release condemning this yet.

If this is the future of eco-friendly automobiles, then people in AA who own cars are completely screwed and might as well just pop the top off that bottle of that Budweiser right now.

Photo Credits:
Cellar
Stewart, Flickr

Apparently lightning does strike TWICE in Western Kansas

So…remember the March 08 story of the woman who neurotically sat on her toilet—until her skin grew around the seat—for TWO years?
That really bewildered me. But what bewildered me even more than that was the fact that she had a devoted boyfriend who would bring food and water to the bathroom for her every day during that entire period of time. I remember even writing a bewildered blog post about it.

This is the boyfriend’s CNN quote:
"It just kind of happened one day; she went in and had been in there a little while, the next time it was a little longer. Then she got it in her head she was going to stay -- like it was a safe place for her.” But McFarren said she moved around in the bathroom during that time, bathed and changed into the clothes he brought her. He brought food and water to her. They had conversations and had an otherwise normal relationship -- except it all happened in the bathroom.”

So imagine my shock and bafflement when I was told that out of ALL OF THE PEOPLE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, toilet-seat-woman’s boyfriend won the lottery TWICE this year. Twice. SERIOUSLY?

What does one even say to that? How do you even respond? Does that qualify him to be mayor of Western Kansas?
Will he run on a “I-supported-my-girlfriend-while-she-sat-on-a-toilet-seat-for-two-years-and-then-I-won-the-lottery-TWICE platform?
Will people want to vote for him? Will she campaign around the state with him and during the climax of her speech hold up the toilet seat that the doctors had to surgically pry off her butt and say “You see this toilet seat? I was stuck to this toilet seat for TWO YEARS and during that ENTIRE time Kory stayed with me. If he’ll stay put for TWO years while I sit on a toilet seat he’ll STAY with this town no matter how much economic crap gets dumped on us! You can count on Kory!” and then the crowd might cheer and empowered by their applause she’ll continue, “If you don’t believe me, I’ll get back on this toilet seat and sit on it for another TWO YEARS and then all of you can watch Kory’s devotion!” and then she’ll probably try to sit on it again and this time Kory will be like “Honey, um… actually you don’t need to do that again. Don’t do that. Seriously sweetly. No, really. DON’T YOU GET YOUR BUTT STUCK TO THAT TOILET SEAT AGAIN!”

And you know what? Even after that strange speech and that awkward interaction on the campaign trail—he’ll STILL win the election and become mayor. And then he’ll probably win the freakin LOTTERY AGAIN and become KING OF THE WORLD because apparently if you live in western Kansas you can have it all.


*Thanks for the lottery tip Mr. Chemistry

Photo Credits
Ottawa Kansas
Flickr, Foto Edge

I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say AIG Executives went on a lavish spa resort days after the government BAILED THEM OUT with OUR TAX PAYER MONEY.

Oh, you did??

“WASHINGTON (AP) — Days after it got a federal bailout, American International Group Inc. spent $440,000 on a posh California retreat for its executives, complete with spa treatments, banquets and golf outings, according to lawmakers investigating the company's meltdown.”


Wow.
I just love it when we bail out avaricious Wall Street executives with OUR hard-earned tax payer dollars and then they fly to California on a cloud of money, polish their Rolexes in first class, and get hot stone massages while the rest of the country continues working and fretfully wondering how we will make ends meet if the economy keeps on tanking.

Read the rest of the story here.

Well Said…

My email to a friend:
"Alicia Keys is a wonderfully talented singer; however, I don't like her even though i feel pressure to. Never have, never will.
AND I think she is a TERRIBLE actress."

Response from friend:
"There is no worse actress than Alicia Keys. In 5th grade I was cast as the concerned mother of a kid named Brian who was thinking about doing drugs. I had one line: “Are you ok Brian? You’ve barely spoken a word and you haven't touched your chicken.”

I did a way better job than Alicia Keys ever will."

-A.S.


Photo Credits:
Alicia Keys
Infosjoerd, Flickr

“Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm”

C: How was yoga with K last night?
Me: SO weird. Everyone started singing. SINGING! We almost started laughing.
C: Hahaha. The “ ASHANTI! ASHANTI!” song right?
Me: YEA! Freaky stuff. When the class started she put some sort of ointment on my hands. Random liquids make me uncomfortable…but it smelt good so I went with it.
C: Ointment?
Me: And then she put some green tea bags on our eyes while we lay down and then OHHMMMED some more.
C: Really?
Me: Yea, and at first I wanted to walk out because the whole thing was so creepy and I decided I wasn’t going to take it anymore, but then she started massaging my temples. That felt SO good and everything seemed much better.
C: Until everyone started wrapping their legs around their necks right? That always happens next.
Me: Precisely. One minute it was like, “Stretch your leg and point your toes,” the next minute it was like “Okay everyone needs to contort themselves until they can form a crow with their bodies.” And then people were upside down against the wall balancing on one finger…I’m pretty sure I saw someone levitate too.
C: Well, how did you feel when you were done? It makes you feel like you are in detox mode right?
Me: Totally. And makes you want to consume ONLY whole grains.
C: And drink tons of spring water.
Me: And wear free trade organic cotton.
C (wistfully): Yea, it feels great.
Me: I mean our yoga teacher was so flexible that K and I were discussing how she could probably dissociate her torso from her legs. I’m pretty sure she could spin her upper half in a circle while her legs stay still.
C: Yea, I can totally picture her torso doing a 180 rotation while her legs just stand there; it was like that in hot yoga too.
Me: I totally forgot you used to do hot yoga. What’s the deal with that?
C: With hot yoga, the heat softens your muscles so you can do things you couldn’t normally do. You can basically fold like a pretzel.
Me: OOoooooh…
C: Yea, it’s kind of cool.
Me: Can I go with you next time? Where’s the hot yoga place?
C: Sure, up 14th Street; right next to the Whole Foods.
Me (rolling my eyes): Of course it is. The studio is probably in Whole Foods… in the middle of the whole grain aisle.
C (dryly): Yea, right between the quinoa and the flax seed.


Photo Credits
Green Wise
L*U*Z*A, Flickr

Winner of the VP debate? Me.

Last night felt like the political version of the Sugar bowl. Every bar and restaurant in the city was brimming with unbridled anticipation for the Vice presidential debate. Our restaurant was overtaken by suits who sat sipping scotches and pensively waiting for the match to begin.

I sat with my co-workers watching the CNN pundits do their pre-game spiel:
“Wolf, I’m going with 10 to 1 odds that Biden will deliver another sexist gaffe that will leave Palin with the victory by default,” or “Campbell I think Palin might try the breastfeeding-baby-Trig-while-talking-about-small-town-America tactic.”
Then one of the editors at our table pulled out a couple sheets of paper; I picked one up. It was titled: Palin Bingo.
Each sheet had different phrases and words that Palin constantly repeats in her interviews and during campaign stump speeches. E.G. “Pork Barrel”, “Russia”, “Umm”, “McCain”, “Pit Bull”, “Gotcha journalism”, “Washington Outsider”, etc. The aim of Palin Bingo was simple: the winner would be whoever got 5 phrases in a row first.

Sure enough, Palin delivered and I got my Palin words.
I won with the following combination: "maverick," "energy independence," "gosh," and "outsider" ("airspace" was a freebie).

For wholesome, educational small town family fun, I give you: www.Palinbingo.com.

Photo Credits:
And bingo…
klynsis, Flickr

Am I the only one who thinks this is bizarre?

So I’m just catching up on your average special interest story in the Tribune when I come across this article. It’s about a guy who hung a naked picture of VP candidate Sarah Palin (not her real body) in his wife’s Chicago bar because he has a colossal crush on her.

The picture has brought in a lot of new patrons and garnered a flood of local media attention. There are so many levels of this story that baffle me—but I decided to hold my judgment. UNTIL I got to this paragraph:

“…naked, smiling, high-heeled Palin holds a shotgun in front of an Alaskan landscape in a portrait displayed at the North Side bar, the Tribune reports. The owner's husband, who is crushing on Alaska's governor, had his lookalike daughter pose for the maverick's body…”

And then the article casually ambles on as if that last sentence wasn’t a big deal.
Um.
Okay.
What normal father uses his daughter’s body as a guideline for a nude picture of a politician? Clearly the author of this article took the wrong angle for this story.

Obviously this is one of those families that you hope and pray you never have the misfortune of marrying into. Because if you do, you’ll come downstairs one Christmas morning and see the entire family casually sketching nude portraits of themselves while drinking eggnog, and raucously cheering: "LONG LIVE INTERFAMILY DATING!" (And then your spouse’s father will try to play tickle monster with you on his lap).

Just saying.


Photo Credits:
Harry’s BarWili_hybrid, Flickr