The 'Berg that took this Titanic down

Okay, this is my latest obsession - iceberg lettuce.

I know, what's to be obsessed about? It's basically just crunchy water. But that's it really. It's crunchy water!

Awhile back a friend (and I'll resist putting in sarcastic quotes around that word, because a real friend would have kept this a deep/dark secret from me that she would have taken to the grave) introduced me to the lettuce wedge at a local restaurant. It's the classic, old school wedge of iceberg lettuce, lovingly draped with bleu cheese and whored up with some crumbled bacon. I understand it was a favorite of ladies who lunch in the 50s and 60s. Basically, it was like falling in love at first sight with a guy who was not my type. Iceberg lettuce is so whatever. I don't really like bleu cheese all that much. But the bacon wasn't exactly a deal breaker. And that first taste was a wrong that was soooo right. Oh, yummm, baby.

But I knew he was bad for me. Bleu cheese is a minion of Satan, fer sure. And I just tried to forget about it. But who doesn't love the bad boy? And about 3 months ago, I just gave in.

Now I'm buying a head of lettuce a week. I don't even want to think about the jars of salad dressing. And salad dressing! I don't even like it that much on a regular salad. But slide a blob onto a chunk of iceberg and I roll over like a $4 ho. It's become my go-to dinner, replacing the bag of popcorn as the quick and dirty meal option. A whack with a big knife, and a glob of dressing on the side - it's dinner time! I don't even need the bacon crumble any more. I've slid that far. And bleu cheese, chili ranch, peppercorn Caesar - the kind of dressing doesn't even matter any more. Last night, I even bought Roquefort. I'm on the hard stuff. And really, the lettuce is just a crunchy delivery system. I'm hooked, man. It's bad. I need a support group.

It ain't salmon they're smoking

Personally, I don't partake in herbal refreshment. It would stunt my growth. But I understand that there are people who do indulge for "medicinal" purposes. And, in this case, I'll have to make an exception. Whatever the people at PETA are smoking, they need to pass that sh** on around. Cause it is evidently primo.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=99249669

Sea kittens? This is like the idea that your friends who've been up at 4 in the morning (to use the HIMYM euphemism) "eating sandwiches" call you up to tell you this brilliant idea they came up with.

And to PETA I say the same thing I would tell to the people calling me at the asscrack of dawn to tell me that they're going to solve global warming by getting everybody on the planet to chew Mentos with their mouth open - put it down. You've had enough.

Scorchio!

It's not going to rain in Texas. I look up the weather forecast and it's sunny as far as the eye can see. Sun, sun, sun. Look out, Texas. You may be in for the greatest drought in recorded history. Dustbowl? Nothing. The plants will suffer. The lawns will dry up and die. Say goodbye to lakes, rivers and streams. Parched. Parched, I tell you!

You know how I know it may never rain here again?

I bought galoshes.

The litter campaign - continued

Well, I've been thinking about it. I need to start smaller than a statewide campaign. I need to start grassroots. Small. Viral. Uhm, cheap. What I really need to do is figure out how this is done on the small scale before I start trying to wrangle an entire state. I don't have the resources, financial or mental, to do anything huge. I need to work up to the big fight.

So, I'm going to start campaigning directly to the people I understand. Moderate to severe hippie-freaks. Malcontents, with a sense of humor. People who aren't really "joiners" but like to contribute. People who do things because they like doing the right thing, not because somebody "said so". People who are basically lazy, but will get off their butts for a good cause. My people.

I have my idea (more later, I'm being a little bit of a secret squirrel about it right now - I don't know why), and I'll have the big premiere once I've got things figured out. I'm suffering from major delusions of grandeur right now, which I'm fighting valiantly to keep under control. But I hope it will work, even in a small way. I've got to figure out how to create a logo and how to get some bumper stickers or buttons or something. Maybe even t-shirts. Whoa! Settle down there, cowgirl.

But all my little wheels are turning. It's kind of a gas. So keep your ears open. I'll be back atcha soon!

Some times bad movies are the best movies

So I finally got around to watching In the Name of the King. I busted on it a little back when it came out for featuring Burt Reynolds as the king in a sword and sorcerer flick. That's right. Stoker Ace referred to as "Your Majesty". Why of course. It's practically type-casting. I finally decided to check it out on DVD when it hit on 4 "Worst of 2008" lists. I mean, how could I not?
It's in that realm of films that can be referred to as the "Jason Statham Kicks Somebody's Ass" oeuvre. And this one could have been titled Jason Statham Goes Medieval on Somebody's Ass. Or approximately. The whole thing was that kind of vaguely European Middle Ages/Dungeons and Dragons setting, where our hero swings a broadsword and a boomerang. Uh-huh. I counted swords from five separate eras, armor from 2 continents and costumes that looked like they were picked up at Peter Jackson's garage sale. And, speaking of Lord of the Rings, the bad guys looked like creatures that were so hokey looking they couldn't even be used in Orc crowd scenes.

And that pretty much sums up the entire movie. Logic? Out the window. The plot seemed to be dreamed up by two 8-year old boys who kept saying "And then you know what would be cool? - Amazons! And ninjas!" I was lauging my patootie off. And really, that's the pure joy of a movie this bad. It can't get worse. And then it does! Like Ray Liotta looking like Liberace's evil twin in a rhinestone encrusted shawl collar chewing scenery like he's got a bad case of pica. Or Ron Perlman spouting fortune cookie wisdom. Or Matthew Lillard* playing bug nuts. No actually. That makes sense. Matthew Lillard excels at playing bug nuts. But then you get to where you have Burt Reynolds playing the king in a movie that has John Rhys-Davies - who looks like a king, sounds like a king and acts like a king. But isn't the king. Which, in it's own way, makes sense too. Because if he played the king, then he couldn't get stuck with all the exposition - "You remember, sire, years ago, you had a son who died when . . ." And of course, you need tons of exposition because the plot skips these giant things that you really need to know for anything to make sense, and then you need somebody to fill you in because you're saying "What the fruitcake is going on?" Because why make sense when you could be watching Jason Statham kick somebody's ass?

Anyway, you will be seeing this movie on the $5 rack at your local Target someday soon. And it's just about worth that for the laughs that you can get watching this movie go on the koo-koo death spiral of all time. Use the money you would have spent on a good movie to buy a jug of Gallo, and turn it into a drinking game. Every time something whackadoodle happens, you take a drink. Make that two jugs of Gallo.

* Yes, all these people and more names you'd recognize were in this train wreck. I'm kind of thinking that Uwe Bolle is either a very persuasive son-of-a-gun, or has a dozen private investigators on retainer who do nothing but dig up dirt on movie stars so that they can be blackmailed into being in the next Uwe Bolle production. Except for Ron Perlman. That dude will act in anything.