Tag Archives: tom hanks

Cheese Balls

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"What could possibly have possessed you to place Tom Hanks' head next to a barrel of Cheese Balls?"

( I wanted to convey the relative size of the barrel, and Tom Hanks’ head seemed as good as any to do that.)  I’ve decided that Utz Potato Chips and Snacks are my favorite.  They remind me of fishing trips in the spring.  Half the time I’d just sit in the minivan rummaging through the cooler that did not contain the recently killed things wrapped in tin foil.  But I digress.  My barrel of Cheese Balls is 3/4 empty only 1/4 full.  It’s a sad day.  I fear my sodium intake might stay below 300% the recommended daily allowance.

It’s also a sad day because, along the same lines as the 2am ringing pay phone, I’m tired of finding exciting opportunities on  Craigslist, only to have these directors, producers, musicians write back saying, “Here are directions to my apartment.”  If you’re a sane, fully functioning human being, what are you doing inviting strangers to your apartment?  I only do that when I’ve been drinking.  Assuming these directors, producers, musicians do not intend to rape and kill the people they invite over for auditions, aren’t they worried that instead of the obviously awesome author of Madame Librarian’s blog, they will open the door and instead find…

Either Travis the Chimp or Sandra Herold?

Either Travis the Chimp or Sandra Herold?

Either Gary Busey or this chimp?

Either Gary Busey or this chimp?

 

I ran out of chimps, so heres a wolf.

I ran out of chimps, so here's a wolf.

Solace For The Lonely Arizona Fan Left With Empty Beer Cans and Bowls Reeking of Dried Up Bleu Cheese Dip

I didn’t watch the Super Bowl last night. I was working, but even if I’d had the night off, I probably would’ve been re-watching my Kate & Leopold DVD or something (it’s been awhile). Still, I was halfheartedly rooting for the Cardinals for a couple of reasons.

They're red and they're gorgeous.

1. They're red and they're gorgeous.

Come on, it’s like the little red bird versus the big, bad Philadelphia steel industry. It would’ve been epic for the bird to win. Pigeons will always be my favorite, but the cardinal is probably the runner-up. I have one of those traumatic kindergarten memories of raising my hand during class. The question was “Can you name a bird?” (I’m guessing). And this was a huge deal because I was painfully shy growing up. But I guess at the time it seemed important to prove that I could, in fact, name a bird. Anyway, once called upon, I proudly named, “Cardinal.”  The teacher stared blankly at me and asked me to repeat. I repeated. She still didn’t understand. Something hits you to your core when you know the teacher is wrong and you’re right. Forget insubordination, fuck the possibility of afterschool detention–I KNOW THE CARDINAL IS A BIRD!  Finally some other in-the-cardinal-know classmate helped me out, but yeah. No wonder my participation grades were always “Satisfactory” or “Need For Improvement,” instead of “Great” or “Outstanding.” 

Second reason: members of the Arizona Cardinals crossed the street in front of me one time when they were practicing at Northern Arizona University. They held up traffic for a good five minutes. I was all like, “Hey, make like a cardinal and get the fuck outta the way.”

Still, instead of watching the hoards of muscular, pigskin-wielding men last night, I caught up with Friday night’s 20/20. Who needs a social life when you’ve got Martin Bashir and John Stossel?

Radar Magazine names #46 on its 100 Worst Places to Die list as “Easing into a hot tub with John Stossel”:

Agree to disagree.

Agree to disagree.

I was pretty excited about Martin Bashir’s investigation of “The Science of Seduction: Why Him? Why Her?,” but it didn’t end up being all that groundbreaking. I could’ve watched You’ve Got Mail! and come to the same conclusion: something is wrong with the dating game. Bashir interviewed a biological anthropologist who teamed up with Chemistry.com to test theories she’s been developing in her meth lab. Bascially, she thinks people can be broken up into four basic personality types: Explorer, Director, Negotiator, or Builder. Explorers are drawn to explorers, builders to builders, BUT directors are drawn to negotiators and vice versa.

The investigation seemed pretty geared toward the upper middle class heterosexual yuppie types. Part 3 is worth watching, though–it’s all about arranged marriages and how successful they tend to be. Also, you have to register which is a pain, but you can take that doctor’s personality test here, and if you do, please share the findings. I’m primarily a Negotiator and secondarily an Explorer. Famous Negotiators include Oprah, Leo Tolstoy, Katie Holmes, Bill Clinton, Hillary Duff, Mohandas Gandhi, and Charles Darwin!

I now feel ready to meet my proverbial Tom Hanks on the proverbial Empire State Building. Wish me luck.

The Neurotic Little Puppy

I read this New Age-y book recently that presented a pretty thought-provoking theory.  The author was talking about fairy tales and children’s stories and how one in particular usually strikes a chord with us when we’re young and the reason it strikes a chord is because it reminds us of one of our neuroses that will continue to be a neurosis when we grow up.  The author said for her that story was the tale of the patchwork dress girl who shows up to a ball with a dress stitched out of lots of rags unlike the other girls who are wearing beautiful gowns.  The girl hides in a closet because she’s ashamed of her dress…then a handsome prince finds her and appreciates her handiwork or something stupid.

Clearly I don’t really remember the details, but the author boiled it down to something like–she’s interested in lots of things, not just one thing, so instead of becoming an expert at one thing she’s just mediocre at lots of things.  I guess that’s her neurosis.

This got me thinking about my childhood (because who doesn’t like to analyze their neuroses?).  The only book I could think of that struck a chord was one from The Poky Little Puppy series.  This one was scratch and sniff.  The Poky Little Puppy goes off with his puppy siblings to find birthday presents for their mom.  Poky’s siblings get lemonade or cotton candy or a bucket of apples and call it a day (the lemonade was my favorite thing to scratch).  But Poky has a hell of a time finding the perfect present.  It’s really sad.  He’s the ultimate people pleaser.  So maybe that’s my neurosis?  Yeah, I think so.  It especially rears its ugly neurotic head around these gift-giving times of the year. 

I used to be really good about making gift lists and crossing off names and putting a lot of thought into the whole process.  Now it’s December 17th and I’m like WTF?  How did this happen.  My urge to procrastinate has outweighed my people pleasing urge!  But I had an idea after I woke up, while I was still in bed.  It involves gingerbread and frosting and candy.  Or maybe I’ll just walk across the street to the 99 cent store next to the strip club and call it a day. 

 

Speaking of puppies, I have my own theory.  I bet police officers who work with police dogs live longer than non-K-9 unit police officers.  Because animals make you happy.  And happiness keeps you healthy.  And healthy, happy people live longer!

Serving Edina, Minnesota where the city slogan goes, "...for living, learning, raising families & doing business." Don't mess with those American values.

Further research will need to be conducted to see if the theory applies to Tom Hanks.

Further research will need to be conducted to see if the theory applies to Tom Hanks.