Friday, April 30, 2004

R IS FOR LUTEFISK

It's Food Friday courtesy of The Friday Chef. Our assignment this week is R is for Red, which, of course, is precisely the reason I am talking about smelly fish, Vikings, drain cleaner and iron constitutions. When I whispered the name of that most universal of all red foods (not Twizzlers, Ketchup!) to my boyfriend, he produced all sorts of stories. Stories about ketchup. Stories about Lutefisk.



The ultimate find on the Internet (so you know it's true) was the moving The Ode to Lutefisk. It seems particularly appropriate to toss you this tidbit today, because today Karma is the Norse God of coincidences. Today I travel north. North past Ithaca, St. Ignace, Christmas, L'anse, Skankee and a host of other towns to the land of smelly fish, Vikings, drain cleaner and iron constitutions. I'm traveling to the land where you'd better know the correct pronunciation of "pasty" because instead of a tasty meat pie, you might find yourself with the cure for a wardrobe malfunction, if you catch my drift. I'm traveling so far north that a single mitten won't do. My map requires the use of BOTH hands, and even then it's a bit sketchy. But be that as it may, if I have two hands, then I've got a map -- and I'm off to bring Mozart to the masses.



Anyway. Back to the fisk. Why Lutefisk and ketchup? Because, according to Clay Shirky (aka "some guy"), the most universal of Red Foods is a requirement for the proper consumption of Lutefisk.



To understand the relationship between aquavit and lutefisk, here's an experiment you can do at home. In addition to aquavit, you will need a slice of lemon, a cracker, a dishtowel, ketchup, a piece of lettuce, some caviar, and a Kit-Kat candy bar.



1. Take a shot aquavit.

2. Take two. (They're small.)

3. Put a bit of caviar on a bit of lettuce.

4. Put the lettuce on a cracker.

5. Squeeze some lemon juice on the caviar.

6. Pour some ketchup on the Kit-Kat bar.

7. Tie the dishtowel around your eyes.



If you can taste the difference between caviar on a cracker and ketchup on a Kit-Kat while blindfolded, you have not had enough aquavit to be ready for lutefisk. Return to step one.



I think my mistake was in using the dishtowel: you need to drink enough aquavit so you can't tell the difference between caviar on a cracker and ketchup on a Kit-Kat with your eyes open.




Perhaps blogger Tom McMahon summed it up the best: "I never understood how Jesus fed 5,000 people with just 5 fish, until I had lutefisk."



Happy Friday, all.

Bon Appetit!

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R IS FOR LUTEFISK
It's Food Friday courtesy of The Friday Chef. Our assignment this week is R is for Red, which, of course, is precisely the reason I am talking about smelly fish, Vikings, drain cleaner and iron constitutions. When I whispered the name of that most universal of all red foods (not Twizzlers, Ketchup!) to my boyfriend, he produced all sorts of stories. Stories about ketchup. Stories about Lutefisk.

The ultimate find on the Internet (so you know it's true) was the moving The Ode to Lutefisk. It seems particularly appropriate to toss you this tidbit today, because today Karma is the Norse God of coincidences. Today I travel north. North past Ithaca, St. Ignace, Christmas, L'anse, Skankee and a host of other towns to the land of smelly fish, Vikings, drain cleaner and iron constitutions. I'm traveling to the land where you'd better know the correct pronunciation of "pasty" because instead of a tasty meat pie, you might find yourself with the cure for a wardrobe malfunction, if you catch my drift. I'm traveling so far north that a single mitten won't do. My map requires the use of BOTH hands, and even then it's a bit sketchy. But be that as it may, if I have two hands, then I've got a map -- and I'm off to bring Mozart to the masses.

Anyway. Back to the fisk. Why Lutefisk and ketchup? Because, according to Clay Shirky (aka "some guy"), the most universal of Red Foods is a requirement for the proper consumption of Lutefisk.

To understand the relationship between aquavit and lutefisk, here's an experiment you can do at home. In addition to aquavit, you will need a slice of lemon, a cracker, a dishtowel, ketchup, a piece of lettuce, some caviar, and a Kit-Kat candy bar.

1. Take a shot aquavit.
2. Take two. (They're small.)
3. Put a bit of caviar on a bit of lettuce.
4. Put the lettuce on a cracker.
5. Squeeze some lemon juice on the caviar.
6. Pour some ketchup on the Kit-Kat bar.
7. Tie the dishtowel around your eyes.

If you can taste the difference between caviar on a cracker and ketchup on a Kit-Kat while blindfolded, you have not had enough aquavit to be ready for lutefisk. Return to step one.

I think my mistake was in using the dishtowel: you need to drink enough aquavit so you can't tell the difference between caviar on a cracker and ketchup on a Kit-Kat with your eyes open.


Perhaps blogger Tom McMahon summed it up the best: "I never understood how Jesus fed 5,000 people with just 5 fish, until I had lutefisk."

Happy Friday, all.
Bon Appetit!
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Thursday, April 29, 2004

DUDE, VISITORS!

Was it moppet? Was it the Ebay wedding dress? Was it puberty? Well, whatever it was, when I looked this morning, it was "Dude...Visitors!" Maybe there are crop circles around here too. And some corn kids. Whatever the reason, Welcome. I blog in peace. Sit down, relax and read awhile. Sign the Guestbook too, and if you have a page, let me know, and I'll link to you and say all sorts of nice stuff about you as well. Unless you're a prOn site. Then, not so much.



Speaking of the moppet -- well, he's gone. Thankfully. Being cute and having red hair does not qualify you to be a pop music sensation. I was disappointed, though, that he didn't pull out another Barry Manilow tune as his farewell song. I know the first thing that popped into my head was:



All the time, all the wasted time...



See ya, little red-headed kid. Catch you on the B-side.



With all this reality-mania -- and I suppose American Idol sort of qualifies -- it's interesting to sit down and play a little game of compare and contrast. One thing I notice (mostly because of high annoyance factor) are the various catch-phrases that cling to the shows like bathroom mold.



Big Brother loves the Chopping Block. With all the chopping block-ages on this show, you'd think it was a remake of The Six Wives of Henry VIII. Come to think of it, with the likes of Alison and Dana, a chopping block or two isn't all that bad of an idea.....



Survivor was the creator of the Alliance. If you didn't have an alliance, then you were at the mercy of a naked fat guy. Sure, there might be a stray chopping block or two, but without an alliance you'd be voted off the island faster than you could say "On My Go"...



The Apprentice doesn't do chopping blocks or alliances. The Donald don't do cliches, yo. Just a quick You're fired! with a snappy hand-thingy and you're in a cab faster than you can say Omorosa.



The Bachelor goes an entirely different route. Here there is peace and tranquility. Gone is the violence of chopping blocks. Unheard of is the Three Musketeer-esque sworn loyalty of alliances. Instead (for some bizarre reason) we get funeral-speak. "If it's my time to go" is always uttered in hushed, resigned tones, followed by torrents of smudged mascara. I think they could use a chopping block or two.



American Idol is in need of a catch-phrase. Right now they are stuck with Seacrest...OUT! which is an "11" on the Velveeta scale. Maybe a little quirky Donald hand-jive with a "You're FLAT!" would go well. Or tell the losing singer they are going back to the Minor Leagues (ha ha - ok, not so much). Something, anything. Because "Seacrest ... Out" is a little weak. Maybe they could be Hung out to dry....



Well, maybe not.

Sign My Guestbook!
DUDE, VISITORS!
Was it moppet? Was it the Ebay wedding dress? Was it puberty? Well, whatever it was, when I looked this morning, it was "Dude...Visitors!" Maybe there are crop circles around here too. And some corn kids. Whatever the reason, Welcome. I blog in peace. Sit down, relax and read awhile. Sign the Guestbook too, and if you have a page, let me know, and I'll link to you and say all sorts of nice stuff about you as well. Unless you're a prOn site. Then, not so much.

Speaking of the moppet -- well, he's gone. Thankfully. Being cute and having red hair does not qualify you to be a pop music sensation. I was disappointed, though, that he didn't pull out another Barry Manilow tune as his farewell song. I know the first thing that popped into my head was:

All the time, all the wasted time...

See ya, little red-headed kid. Catch you on the B-side.

With all this reality-mania -- and I suppose American Idol sort of qualifies -- it's interesting to sit down and play a little game of compare and contrast. One thing I notice (mostly because of high annoyance factor) are the various catch-phrases that cling to the shows like bathroom mold.

Big Brother loves the Chopping Block. With all the chopping block-ages on this show, you'd think it was a remake of The Six Wives of Henry VIII. Come to think of it, with the likes of Alison and Dana, a chopping block or two isn't all that bad of an idea.....

Survivor was the creator of the Alliance. If you didn't have an alliance, then you were at the mercy of a naked fat guy. Sure, there might be a stray chopping block or two, but without an alliance you'd be voted off the island faster than you could say "On My Go"...

The Apprentice doesn't do chopping blocks or alliances. The Donald don't do cliches, yo. Just a quick You're fired! with a snappy hand-thingy and you're in a cab faster than you can say Omorosa.

The Bachelor goes an entirely different route. Here there is peace and tranquility. Gone is the violence of chopping blocks. Unheard of is the Three Musketeer-esque sworn loyalty of alliances. Instead (for some bizarre reason) we get funeral-speak. "If it's my time to go" is always uttered in hushed, resigned tones, followed by torrents of smudged mascara. I think they could use a chopping block or two.

American Idol is in need of a catch-phrase. Right now they are stuck with Seacrest...OUT! which is an "11" on the Velveeta scale. Maybe a little quirky Donald hand-jive with a "You're FLAT!" would go well. Or tell the losing singer they are going back to the Minor Leagues (ha ha - ok, not so much). Something, anything. Because "Seacrest ... Out" is a little weak. Maybe they could be Hung out to dry....

Well, maybe not.
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Wednesday, April 28, 2004

EBAY WEDDING DRESS UPDATE

With only two hours to go, a page counter at 4968604, and a current bid of over $15k, I bring you this update from the seller:



Because of the high profile of this item, I am changing the listing to Pre-Approved Bidders Only. To be pre-approved, please contact me at horseplaypublishing@hotmail.com and include "Serious Bidder" in the subject line of the email and I will return your email to pre-approve your bidding on the auction. Thank you for your interest.



Woooooooohoooooo! What a wild ride! The emails are coming faster than the hits. And now personal appearances. First Star94 radio in Atlanta, then King5 in Seattle,now the Today Show with that I-used-to-be-a-fat-weatherman-but-now-I-am-as-skinny-as-Regis-but-twice-as-funny Al "I will turn this car around" Roker. It is amazing; all this media hype. Hey, Al! Any relation to Roxy?

EBay has graciously allowed me to update this page once more. So I will keep it brief.



This one guy emailed me and said, "Hey, bud. What part of Texas do you live?"

Uh... Well, sir, I am from Seattle. Uh, Seattle, Texas.

Right next to AreYouAFreakingMoron, Texas, which is a hop, skip and jump from IWasEducatedByGeorgeBush, Texas. Thanks for asking, neighbor.



We have a website coming that everyone can check out. It will be up soon.



Please only bid if you are serious. Or really, really hot.

Sign My Guestbook!
EBAY WEDDING DRESS UPDATE
With only two hours to go, a page counter at 4968604, and a current bid of over $15k, I bring you this update from the seller:

Because of the high profile of this item, I am changing the listing to Pre-Approved Bidders Only. To be pre-approved, please contact me at horseplaypublishing@hotmail.com and include "Serious Bidder" in the subject line of the email and I will return your email to pre-approve your bidding on the auction. Thank you for your interest.

Woooooooohoooooo! What a wild ride! The emails are coming faster than the hits. And now personal appearances. First Star94 radio in Atlanta, then King5 in Seattle,now the Today Show with that I-used-to-be-a-fat-weatherman-but-now-I-am-as-skinny-as-Regis-but-twice-as-funny Al "I will turn this car around" Roker. It is amazing; all this media hype. Hey, Al! Any relation to Roxy?
EBay has graciously allowed me to update this page once more. So I will keep it brief.

This one guy emailed me and said, "Hey, bud. What part of Texas do you live?"
Uh... Well, sir, I am from Seattle. Uh, Seattle, Texas.
Right next to AreYouAFreakingMoron, Texas, which is a hop, skip and jump from IWasEducatedByGeorgeBush, Texas. Thanks for asking, neighbor.

We have a website coming that everyone can check out. It will be up soon.

Please only bid if you are serious. Or really, really hot.
Sign My Guestbook!
IDOL-SHMIDOL

OK. American Idol last night? Not so good. Even the best were not so good, which means that the not so good were pretty darn lousy, and that, my friends, is being kind.



Last night was "Latin" night, which somehow translated into All-Gloria Estefan all-the-time night. Which would have been ok, if Gloria Estefan was singing. Which she wasn't, so it wasn't.



Following? Good.



I was interested to see how Latin music was really confounding these performers. None of them ever seemed comfortable with the mixed rhythmic meters and so were never really in the groove of the song. It was like being on downhill skis for the first time and employing the "snowplow or die" method. Last night, there was a lot of vocal snowplowing going on.



I'll say it again -- John, the red headed moppet (AKA Elmo) simply must go. It becomes a bigger and bigger mockery the longer he stays. The nicest compliment he got last night was from Gloria Estefan: "Your performance would have made your grandmother proud. Good Job." This is what the moppet has been reduced to: Grandma Idol.



As sharp as the moppet preferred his song, Jasmine (I-don't-wear-that-flower-no-mo) from Hawaii was flat. Please, people: pitch Yin and Yang is not a pleasant experience. It makes some of us violent. Stop.



George Huff resorted to the sixth grade hop up and down fast-dance while he sang. I was later corrected by a much more knowlegeable expert *coughCOPScough* on middle school dance rituals and was told it was the "pee-pee dance." Truer words were never spoken. Pee-pee dancing indeed. Was it Latin pee-pee dancing? That remains to be seen.



Diana DeGarmo was ok (dare I say it the best of the evening, though that thought is a bit frightening), LaToya was also ok, as was Fantasia. Nobody was outstanding, although it was interesting to hear Fantasia attempt to summon up the spectre of Jennifer as if she were great Caesar's ghost. Strategy? Probably. Will it work? Knowing America...who knows. We'll find out tonight.



GreenTuna........OUT!

*snort*

Sign My Guestbook!
IDOL-SHMIDOL
OK. American Idol last night? Not so good. Even the best were not so good, which means that the not so good were pretty darn lousy, and that, my friends, is being kind.

Last night was "Latin" night, which somehow translated into All-Gloria Estefan all-the-time night. Which would have been ok, if Gloria Estefan was singing. Which she wasn't, so it wasn't.

Following? Good.

I was interested to see how Latin music was really confounding these performers. None of them ever seemed comfortable with the mixed rhythmic meters and so were never really in the groove of the song. It was like being on downhill skis for the first time and employing the "snowplow or die" method. Last night, there was a lot of vocal snowplowing going on.

I'll say it again -- John, the red headed moppet (AKA Elmo) simply must go. It becomes a bigger and bigger mockery the longer he stays. The nicest compliment he got last night was from Gloria Estefan: "Your performance would have made your grandmother proud. Good Job." This is what the moppet has been reduced to: Grandma Idol.

As sharp as the moppet preferred his song, Jasmine (I-don't-wear-that-flower-no-mo) from Hawaii was flat. Please, people: pitch Yin and Yang is not a pleasant experience. It makes some of us violent. Stop.

George Huff resorted to the sixth grade hop up and down fast-dance while he sang. I was later corrected by a much more knowlegeable expert *coughCOPScough* on middle school dance rituals and was told it was the "pee-pee dance." Truer words were never spoken. Pee-pee dancing indeed. Was it Latin pee-pee dancing? That remains to be seen.

Diana DeGarmo was ok (dare I say it the best of the evening, though that thought is a bit frightening), LaToya was also ok, as was Fantasia. Nobody was outstanding, although it was interesting to hear Fantasia attempt to summon up the spectre of Jennifer as if she were great Caesar's ghost. Strategy? Probably. Will it work? Knowing America...who knows. We'll find out tonight.

GreenTuna........OUT!
*snort*
Sign My Guestbook!
WEDDING CELEBRATIONS

I need to preface this post by saying No, No, A Thousand Times, No -- I was NOT (CAPS LOCK) on Ebay trolling for wedding dresses. Someone SENT (CAPS LOCK, LEANED OVER) me this link. But once I was able to breathe again, I felt compelled, nay obligated, to share this treasure with each and every one of you.



SIZE 12 WEDDING DRESS/GOWN NO RESERVE

SURE IS A BEAUTY! CHEAP! USED ONLY ONCE!



For Sale: One Slightly Used Size 12 Wedding Gown. Only worn twice: Once at the wedding and once for these pictures.



Make: Victoria



Style: 611



Size: 12



Divorce forces sale



I found my ex-wife's wedding dress in the attic when I moved. She took the $4000 engagement ring but left the dress. I was actually going to have a dress burning party when the divorce became final, but my sister talked me out of it. She said, "That's such a gorgeous dress. Some lucky girl would be glad to have it. You should sell it on EBay. At least get something back for it." So, this is what I'm doing. I'm selling it hoping to get enough money for maybe a couple of Mariners tickets and some beer. This dress cost me $1200 that my drunken sot of an ex-father-in-law swore up and down he would pay for but didn't so I got stuck with the bill. Luckily I only got stuck with his daughter for 5 years. Thank the Lord we didn't have kids. If they would have turned out like her or her family I would have slit my wrists. Anyway, it's a really nice dress as you can see in the pictures. Personally, I think it looks like a $1200 shower curtain, but what do I know about this. We tried taking pictures of this lovely white garment but it didn't look right on the hanger as you can see, so my sister says, "You need a model." Well, quite frankly my sister isn't exactly small, (like a size 12 is?) so she wouldn't pose for the picture. Seeing as I have sworn off women for the time being and I ain't friends with any, it left me holding the bag. I took the liberty of blacking out my face - not to protect the ex-wife but to protect me from my bar buddies and co-workers finding out about it. I would never live it down. Actually I didn't think my head would fit in the neck hole, but then I figured she got her Texas cheerleader hair through there I could get my head in it. Though, after looking at the pictures, I thought it made me look fat. How do you women wear this crap? I only had to walk 3 feet and I tripped twice. Don't worry ladies - I am wearing clothes on underneath it. I gotta say it did make me feel very pretty. So if it can make me feel pretty, it can make you feel pretty, especially on the most important day of your life, right? Anyway, I was told to say it has a train and a veil and all kinds of shiny beady things. I think it's funny that one picture makes it look like the chest plate off an Imperial Storm Trooper. Did I mention that all I want is a ball game and beer? Cheap at twice the price. Ladies, you won't regret this. You may regret the dude you marry but not the dress.



Just a little side note - As I was putting this ad in EBay, it asked me for a color. Is a wedding dress any other freaking color than white or ivory??!! If it is it wouldn't be a wedding dress, now would it?? I suppose black would work...



On Apr-26-04 at 10:38:31 PDT, seller added the following information:



Well, the auction is a little over half over and I am just amazed. This thing has taken more hits than that pothead that lives in the next building. Man, oh man, if hits were bucks I'd be getting a suite at Safeco.



I also have received TONS of email. I don't have the time to reply to all of them but I just want to let everyone know that I appreciate the well wishes.



Of the email I received:



Five or so were invitations to ball games in other states. Two of those were for little league games. Do they have those cushy executive boxes with the free chicken wings at those?



One email was from Scotland. It's a good thing he wrote it because I wouldn't be able to understand a word he said. Never did get through Braveheart.



Most were thanking me for the laugh. You're entirely welcome. Five years of misery was well worth the hearty guffaw that was my pleasure to give you.



Oh, yeah. I also got three marriage proposals. Yes, you read it right - three marriage proposals. I feel like one of those mass murderers on death row. I never understood how the hell they got more chicks than I did. Now I know. They sold crap on eBay.



On Apr-26-04 at 23:45:56 PDT, seller added the following information:



Holy Moly!



The hit counter is starting to look like the odometer in my truck! Not the new shiny black full-size 4-wheel-drive American pick-up that I had to part with, but the somewhat older, multicolored, lumpy, tiny, 2-wheel-drive foreign pick-up that belches smoke. A little something about that vehicle, though: it's absolutely amazing! When I get inside it to go to the store, I am all depressed. But when I arrive at the store, I'm so freaking loopy from inhaling the fumes, I forget why I went there in the first place. I'm saving buckets of money. Of course, I will probably have to spend it all on the tuberculosis I will acquire, but hey, you can't have everything.



I felt compelled to update this ad once more due to all of your emails. The first thing I have to say is thank you all for your support in my time of need. It was a truly harrowing experience. Some of you men know exactly what I mean.



Seeing as this has turned into my little public forum, I just want to address a few of the emails that kind of left me scratching my head.



I now have five marriage proposals. You would think my speaking of the ones I already got yesterday would have put a damper on it, but you women sure are persistent. One woman actually said she doesn't want to marry me, but wouldn't mind being my ex-wife. Hmmm. Let me think about that. Nope. No thanks, already got one. (Pssst. Didn't I mention I had one? Who wants an ex-wife that can't read? Now, I know what you guys are thinking - "If she can't read, then the divorce would be smooth sailing." Well, that would be all well and good but I didn't say her ATTORNEY couldn't read. You following me on this?)



Other emails are serious buyers asking about the dress. "How long is the train?" and "Does the gown come with the headdress and veil?" Yes, headdress and veil are included, but the do-rag stays with me. And if the train was long enough for my ex's caboose, it's long enough for yours. You will have to supply your own baggage, though. I gave mine to Goodwill.



There was this one woman who wrote, "You should have covered your tattoos. People will be able to recognize you, like on America's Most Wanted." HELLO!!! I'm a guy selling a dress. I'm not wanted for war crimes.



Some of your emails made me laugh. Like the bitter woman that wished she had her ex's testicles to sell on eBay. I'm not too sure there's a market for that, though. Then there was the guy that gave his wife's wedding dress to the Salvation Army by mistake, thinking it was a Christmas tree. Guess he didn't have any Christmas balls that year.



This has also been a learning experience for me. I got a lot of messages correcting me about the color of wedding dresses. For Russian Orthodox, they are blue. For Chinese they are red. Mexico has multi-colored ones. All I know is, for my next wedding I will be wearing a hairy, flesh-toned ensemble because I will be buck naked with a toe tag lying on a slab in the morgue because I would have killed myself.



A lot of folks were asking me if I wear women's dresses a lot. I can honestly say that this is the first time I have ever donned female attire. It's also the first time I've been inside something feminine that didn't nag me to take out the garbage.



It seems a few people have taken offense to my inferring a size 12 is big. One male even pointed out that Marilyn Monroe was a size 14. Now, I would agree with you that size 12/14 is small if I lived on Samoa. But I live right here in the good old 48 Contiguous, where binging and purging is a way of life. American women do not want to be double digits in size. Just ask any woman what size they want to be. Invariably they will say five or seven. Wealthy will be the person that opens a store for Lane Bryant-sized women but sews size 7 tags on all the clothes.



On the flip side of that, I have taken offense to some of the people that told me I'm ugly and a loser. All I have to say is you'd be ugly too if you had a huge white blotch on your face. And as far as being a loser, I think you have it all wrong. I am such the winner. It isn't every day an average guy can make 50,000 people laugh. Thanks to each and every one of you from the heart of my bottom.





Current Hits: 2438516

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WEDDING CELEBRATIONS
I need to preface this post by saying No, No, A Thousand Times, No -- I was NOT (CAPS LOCK) on Ebay trolling for wedding dresses. Someone SENT (CAPS LOCK, LEANED OVER) me this link. But once I was able to breathe again, I felt compelled, nay obligated, to share this treasure with each and every one of you.

SIZE 12 WEDDING DRESS/GOWN NO RESERVE
SURE IS A BEAUTY! CHEAP! USED ONLY ONCE!

For Sale: One Slightly Used Size 12 Wedding Gown. Only worn twice: Once at the wedding and once for these pictures.

Make: Victoria

Style: 611

Size: 12

Divorce forces sale

I found my ex-wife's wedding dress in the attic when I moved. She took the $4000 engagement ring but left the dress. I was actually going to have a dress burning party when the divorce became final, but my sister talked me out of it. She said, "That's such a gorgeous dress. Some lucky girl would be glad to have it. You should sell it on EBay. At least get something back for it." So, this is what I'm doing. I'm selling it hoping to get enough money for maybe a couple of Mariners tickets and some beer. This dress cost me $1200 that my drunken sot of an ex-father-in-law swore up and down he would pay for but didn't so I got stuck with the bill. Luckily I only got stuck with his daughter for 5 years. Thank the Lord we didn't have kids. If they would have turned out like her or her family I would have slit my wrists. Anyway, it's a really nice dress as you can see in the pictures. Personally, I think it looks like a $1200 shower curtain, but what do I know about this. We tried taking pictures of this lovely white garment but it didn't look right on the hanger as you can see, so my sister says, "You need a model." Well, quite frankly my sister isn't exactly small, (like a size 12 is?) so she wouldn't pose for the picture. Seeing as I have sworn off women for the time being and I ain't friends with any, it left me holding the bag. I took the liberty of blacking out my face - not to protect the ex-wife but to protect me from my bar buddies and co-workers finding out about it. I would never live it down. Actually I didn't think my head would fit in the neck hole, but then I figured she got her Texas cheerleader hair through there I could get my head in it. Though, after looking at the pictures, I thought it made me look fat. How do you women wear this crap? I only had to walk 3 feet and I tripped twice. Don't worry ladies - I am wearing clothes on underneath it. I gotta say it did make me feel very pretty. So if it can make me feel pretty, it can make you feel pretty, especially on the most important day of your life, right? Anyway, I was told to say it has a train and a veil and all kinds of shiny beady things. I think it's funny that one picture makes it look like the chest plate off an Imperial Storm Trooper. Did I mention that all I want is a ball game and beer? Cheap at twice the price. Ladies, you won't regret this. You may regret the dude you marry but not the dress.

Just a little side note - As I was putting this ad in EBay, it asked me for a color. Is a wedding dress any other freaking color than white or ivory??!! If it is it wouldn't be a wedding dress, now would it?? I suppose black would work...

On Apr-26-04 at 10:38:31 PDT, seller added the following information:

Well, the auction is a little over half over and I am just amazed. This thing has taken more hits than that pothead that lives in the next building. Man, oh man, if hits were bucks I'd be getting a suite at Safeco.

I also have received TONS of email. I don't have the time to reply to all of them but I just want to let everyone know that I appreciate the well wishes.

Of the email I received:

Five or so were invitations to ball games in other states. Two of those were for little league games. Do they have those cushy executive boxes with the free chicken wings at those?

One email was from Scotland. It's a good thing he wrote it because I wouldn't be able to understand a word he said. Never did get through Braveheart.

Most were thanking me for the laugh. You're entirely welcome. Five years of misery was well worth the hearty guffaw that was my pleasure to give you.

Oh, yeah. I also got three marriage proposals. Yes, you read it right - three marriage proposals. I feel like one of those mass murderers on death row. I never understood how the hell they got more chicks than I did. Now I know. They sold crap on eBay.

On Apr-26-04 at 23:45:56 PDT, seller added the following information:

Holy Moly!

The hit counter is starting to look like the odometer in my truck! Not the new shiny black full-size 4-wheel-drive American pick-up that I had to part with, but the somewhat older, multicolored, lumpy, tiny, 2-wheel-drive foreign pick-up that belches smoke. A little something about that vehicle, though: it's absolutely amazing! When I get inside it to go to the store, I am all depressed. But when I arrive at the store, I'm so freaking loopy from inhaling the fumes, I forget why I went there in the first place. I'm saving buckets of money. Of course, I will probably have to spend it all on the tuberculosis I will acquire, but hey, you can't have everything.

I felt compelled to update this ad once more due to all of your emails. The first thing I have to say is thank you all for your support in my time of need. It was a truly harrowing experience. Some of you men know exactly what I mean.

Seeing as this has turned into my little public forum, I just want to address a few of the emails that kind of left me scratching my head.

I now have five marriage proposals. You would think my speaking of the ones I already got yesterday would have put a damper on it, but you women sure are persistent. One woman actually said she doesn't want to marry me, but wouldn't mind being my ex-wife. Hmmm. Let me think about that. Nope. No thanks, already got one. (Pssst. Didn't I mention I had one? Who wants an ex-wife that can't read? Now, I know what you guys are thinking - "If she can't read, then the divorce would be smooth sailing." Well, that would be all well and good but I didn't say her ATTORNEY couldn't read. You following me on this?)

Other emails are serious buyers asking about the dress. "How long is the train?" and "Does the gown come with the headdress and veil?" Yes, headdress and veil are included, but the do-rag stays with me. And if the train was long enough for my ex's caboose, it's long enough for yours. You will have to supply your own baggage, though. I gave mine to Goodwill.

There was this one woman who wrote, "You should have covered your tattoos. People will be able to recognize you, like on America's Most Wanted." HELLO!!! I'm a guy selling a dress. I'm not wanted for war crimes.

Some of your emails made me laugh. Like the bitter woman that wished she had her ex's testicles to sell on eBay. I'm not too sure there's a market for that, though. Then there was the guy that gave his wife's wedding dress to the Salvation Army by mistake, thinking it was a Christmas tree. Guess he didn't have any Christmas balls that year.

This has also been a learning experience for me. I got a lot of messages correcting me about the color of wedding dresses. For Russian Orthodox, they are blue. For Chinese they are red. Mexico has multi-colored ones. All I know is, for my next wedding I will be wearing a hairy, flesh-toned ensemble because I will be buck naked with a toe tag lying on a slab in the morgue because I would have killed myself.

A lot of folks were asking me if I wear women's dresses a lot. I can honestly say that this is the first time I have ever donned female attire. It's also the first time I've been inside something feminine that didn't nag me to take out the garbage.

It seems a few people have taken offense to my inferring a size 12 is big. One male even pointed out that Marilyn Monroe was a size 14. Now, I would agree with you that size 12/14 is small if I lived on Samoa. But I live right here in the good old 48 Contiguous, where binging and purging is a way of life. American women do not want to be double digits in size. Just ask any woman what size they want to be. Invariably they will say five or seven. Wealthy will be the person that opens a store for Lane Bryant-sized women but sews size 7 tags on all the clothes.

On the flip side of that, I have taken offense to some of the people that told me I'm ugly and a loser. All I have to say is you'd be ugly too if you had a huge white blotch on your face. And as far as being a loser, I think you have it all wrong. I am such the winner. It isn't every day an average guy can make 50,000 people laugh. Thanks to each and every one of you from the heart of my bottom.


Current Hits: 2438516
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BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS

April 28th wouldn't be the same without wishing a Happy Birthday to:



Jay Leno

Here's something to think about: How come you never see a headline like 'Psychic Wins Lottery'?

Ann-Margaret

Although it seems her appearances are limited to casinos, community colleges and Branson, MO, I cannot diss her too much because she appeared (albeit animated) in an episode of The Flintstones

Saddam Hussein

Has never appeared in an episode of The Flintstones -- No wonder he's a loser.

Lionel Barrymore

No Flintstones, but he did appear in lots of other stuff. Great uncle of Drew Barrymore. Triva somewhere claims that his voice was the inspiration for the evil character 'Simon Bar-Sinister' on the cartoon Underdog.

James Monroe

Fifth President of the United States.

Edward IV, King of England

Deposed and executed his cousin. Had his brother murdered. Extorted the French and fathered enough children to field a baseball team, with several to spare. Standard hearty British stuff.

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BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS
April 28th wouldn't be the same without wishing a Happy Birthday to:

Jay Leno
Here's something to think about: How come you never see a headline like 'Psychic Wins Lottery'?
Ann-Margaret
Although it seems her appearances are limited to casinos, community colleges and Branson, MO, I cannot diss her too much because she appeared (albeit animated) in an episode of The Flintstones
Saddam Hussein
Has never appeared in an episode of The Flintstones -- No wonder he's a loser.
Lionel Barrymore
No Flintstones, but he did appear in lots of other stuff. Great uncle of Drew Barrymore. Triva somewhere claims that his voice was the inspiration for the evil character 'Simon Bar-Sinister' on the cartoon Underdog.
James Monroe
Fifth President of the United States.
Edward IV, King of England
Deposed and executed his cousin. Had his brother murdered. Extorted the French and fathered enough children to field a baseball team, with several to spare. Standard hearty British stuff.
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Tuesday, April 27, 2004

READY OR NOT

It's coming. I don't know when, but I know it's coming.



It's been quietly lurking in the back of the closet and on the playground. It sneaks through books on tip-toe and flashes across the movie screen. Maybe it thinks I can't see it, or have been too busy to notice. But I know. I've been watching and waiting. Certainly not with excitement, but not with any real sense of dread, either. Seeing as how it is an inevitability, I'm attempting to remain calm, cool and collected.



Puberty, I see you.



Sidebar -- First, if you thought I was talking about menopause, please raise your hand and then smack yourself upside your head. Second, a fair warning. The rest of this post contains words which would be censored in public libraries, deleted by The Internet Nanny and could be considered fine-worthy by the FCC. Puberty isn't for the faint of heart.



I've been gently preparing for this cataclysmic upheaval for awhile. Last fall I got TinyTuna a book and a journal so she could approach the topic at her own pace. She was really interested in it for awhile, but then set it aside for other things. Lately, though, she has been picking it up again -- reading and writing.



Puberty, I see you.



Last night we needed to do a quick shopping run. As I was finishing with the ads, TinyTuna looked at me and asked, "what's on the list?"



"Not much," I said. "Milk, juice, bread, cheese, tomatoes, snacks for your class..."



"What's this?" she asked, peering at the list.



"Razors," I answered.



"For what?"



"For shaving my legs."



"Ugh! You have hairy legs?"



"Not after I shave them."



"Will I get hairy legs?"



"Yep. And pits too."



"You shave your pits?"



"Yes."



"Will I have to do that too?"



"Well, yes, unless you want hairy armpits."



And then...She makes a classic Grade-A supreme MPF and says, "Ewww....like daddy?"



Ahh, children. They are your comfort and light in your old age. They bring you joy, and sometimes say things that are so damn funny, tears run down your face, you lose the ability to speak and it takes several minutes to regain any sense of dignity and composure you may have once enjoyed....



Puberty, I see you.



But then I forgot. We were nearly done shopping and bras were on sale, which means time to buy. As I was looking through the racks, TinyTuna asks, "why do you need these anyway?"



I give her the look of DUH and say "to hold them up." This statement is accompanied by the two-handed international sign of "holding them up."



"They hold you up?"



"Yes. They keep your breasts supported."



TinyTuna looks at me and smashes both hands on her chest and gives me the international flat-as-a-pancake sign of "I ain't got none" and says, "I don't have anything to hold up."



"Not yet," I say. "But you will. You will get older and you will grow breasts."



"Well," she says matter of factly, "I don't mind growing these, but I just don't want hairy pits."



"Them's the breaks," I chuckle. "Hairy pits and breasts. You have to take the good with the bad."



Puberty, I see you. Now, go play in traffic.

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READY OR NOT
It's coming. I don't know when, but I know it's coming.

It's been quietly lurking in the back of the closet and on the playground. It sneaks through books on tip-toe and flashes across the movie screen. Maybe it thinks I can't see it, or have been too busy to notice. But I know. I've been watching and waiting. Certainly not with excitement, but not with any real sense of dread, either. Seeing as how it is an inevitability, I'm attempting to remain calm, cool and collected.

Puberty, I see you.

Sidebar -- First, if you thought I was talking about menopause, please raise your hand and then smack yourself upside your head. Second, a fair warning. The rest of this post contains words which would be censored in public libraries, deleted by The Internet Nanny and could be considered fine-worthy by the FCC. Puberty isn't for the faint of heart.

I've been gently preparing for this cataclysmic upheaval for awhile. Last fall I got TinyTuna a book and a journal so she could approach the topic at her own pace. She was really interested in it for awhile, but then set it aside for other things. Lately, though, she has been picking it up again -- reading and writing.

Puberty, I see you.

Last night we needed to do a quick shopping run. As I was finishing with the ads, TinyTuna looked at me and asked, "what's on the list?"

"Not much," I said. "Milk, juice, bread, cheese, tomatoes, snacks for your class..."

"What's this?" she asked, peering at the list.

"Razors," I answered.

"For what?"

"For shaving my legs."

"Ugh! You have hairy legs?"

"Not after I shave them."

"Will I get hairy legs?"

"Yep. And pits too."

"You shave your pits?"

"Yes."

"Will I have to do that too?"

"Well, yes, unless you want hairy armpits."

And then...She makes a classic Grade-A supreme MPF and says, "Ewww....like daddy?"

Ahh, children. They are your comfort and light in your old age. They bring you joy, and sometimes say things that are so damn funny, tears run down your face, you lose the ability to speak and it takes several minutes to regain any sense of dignity and composure you may have once enjoyed....

Puberty, I see you.

But then I forgot. We were nearly done shopping and bras were on sale, which means time to buy. As I was looking through the racks, TinyTuna asks, "why do you need these anyway?"

I give her the look of DUH and say "to hold them up." This statement is accompanied by the two-handed international sign of "holding them up."

"They hold you up?"

"Yes. They keep your breasts supported."

TinyTuna looks at me and smashes both hands on her chest and gives me the international flat-as-a-pancake sign of "I ain't got none" and says, "I don't have anything to hold up."

"Not yet," I say. "But you will. You will get older and you will grow breasts."

"Well," she says matter of factly, "I don't mind growing these, but I just don't want hairy pits."

"Them's the breaks," I chuckle. "Hairy pits and breasts. You have to take the good with the bad."

Puberty, I see you. Now, go play in traffic.
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Monday, April 26, 2004

SPEAKING OF ALBUQUERQUE

This just discovered, courtesy of The Laughing Librarian: Just when you thought library-types were a bunch of stuffy old prudes, check this out. The only thing I don't get is how you get arrested, evicted, poison your child with alcohol and still somehow swing administrative leave?

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SPEAKING OF ALBUQUERQUE
This just discovered, courtesy of The Laughing Librarian: Just when you thought library-types were a bunch of stuffy old prudes, check this out. The only thing I don't get is how you get arrested, evicted, poison your child with alcohol and still somehow swing administrative leave?
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LEFT AT ALBUQUERQUE

In a fit of boredom I spent some time clicking from blog to blog just to see what was out and about. I came across a wonderful poem on Blog A, which credited Blog B. I nosed around Blog B, got hung up in some rant about church and dance (evidently never the twain shall meet, screameth the author) and then hit , eating electronic crumbs along the way, until I found myself back home again. I thought I should ask my boyfriend -- the source of all knowledge -- about the poem, and sure enough, it is from a Spring 2003 Washington Post Style Invitational contest where readers were encouraged to submit instructions for something, written by somebody famous.



Enjoy this serving of year-old rehash

Shakespeare's Hokey Pokey

as submitted by Jeff Brechlin, Potomac Falls



O proud left foot, that ventures quick within

Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.

Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:

Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.



Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,

A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.

To spin! A wilde release from Heavens yoke.

Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.



The Hoke, the poke -- banish now thy doubt

Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.

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LEFT AT ALBUQUERQUE
In a fit of boredom I spent some time clicking from blog to blog just to see what was out and about. I came across a wonderful poem on Blog A, which credited Blog B. I nosed around Blog B, got hung up in some rant about church and dance (evidently never the twain shall meet, screameth the author) and then hit , eating electronic crumbs along the way, until I found myself back home again. I thought I should ask my boyfriend -- the source of all knowledge -- about the poem, and sure enough, it is from a Spring 2003 Washington Post Style Invitational contest where readers were encouraged to submit instructions for something, written by somebody famous.

Enjoy this serving of year-old rehash
Shakespeare's Hokey Pokey
as submitted by Jeff Brechlin, Potomac Falls

O proud left foot, that ventures quick within
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.

Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from Heavens yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.

The Hoke, the poke -- banish now thy doubt
Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.
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RECAP

All the world's a stage, they say, and this weekend proved the point over and over again. For three days I was either on one or looking at one. Culture, culture everywhere and not a drop to drink. Or something albatrossy like that. Anyway.



Friday night we went to see The Hobbit performed by "All of Us Express Children's Theatre" -- a local organization that is theatre by kids and for kids. Over all, the kids did a great job, and of course, TinyTuna was in theatre heaven. Since I read the book sometime during the Nixon administration, I didn't remember anything about it. As I sat there Friday night, it all became clear: A single, hairy male creature, content living in a hole in the ground, reluctantly leaves his snacks to join a bunch of other single, bizzare males on an adventure, finds a fabulous ring, slays a dragon and is given an amazing gold lame jacket as a reward. I suddenly realized what a visionary J.R.R. Tolkein really was: This story is a two-hour special edition of Queer Eye for the Hobbit Guy.



Saturday afternoon, TinyTuna and I went to Johnny Rocket's for lunch after spending the morning doing yardwork. We sat (as usual) at the counter, and after she joined the crew to dance Loveshack, the waiter walked by and tossed some paper and a pen at TinyTuna. It was an application. Seriously. A real application. So, what the heck, she filled it out. Position? Dancer. When can you start? Next time I'm here. I told her to cross out "High School" and write in "Elementary School." She learned what references are, and why you can't list your mother as a reference. Reality set in as she was told to be sure to write down the day she turns fifteen. She was aghast. So on the side she wrote "I will be 15 years old on April 8, 2009. I CAN'T WAIT!"



Saturday night was the Guffman gig. Local talent at its local best. It lived up to its billing. I spent a lot of time reciting lines from the movie to keep my sanity in check. It worked. Mostly. Next year I'll bring some morning glory seeds to snack on while I'm waiting. That should keep my spirits high.



Sunday morning was the Durufle church gig and Sunday afternoon we saw a touring company performance of Oliver! Church went better than expected and Oliver was one of the best touring shows I've seen. Great set, outstanding staging, a very tight pit orchestra, and excellent singing. This is considerable praise coming from Queen NitPickypants.



I have one more gig on the horizon. This weekend I go up to Houghton, Michigan to solo with the Keewenaw Symphony in the Mozart Requiem. It should be a fun gig with relatively easy singing. Although the UP is a winter wonderland, the snow should be gone by now (!!), meaning no drunken snowmobilers outside my hotel window at all hours of the night. TinyTuna and GramTuna are coming along for the gig, which will be really nice. My biggest hurdle will be making it over the bridge....

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RECAP
All the world's a stage, they say, and this weekend proved the point over and over again. For three days I was either on one or looking at one. Culture, culture everywhere and not a drop to drink. Or something albatrossy like that. Anyway.

Friday night we went to see The Hobbit performed by "All of Us Express Children's Theatre" -- a local organization that is theatre by kids and for kids. Over all, the kids did a great job, and of course, TinyTuna was in theatre heaven. Since I read the book sometime during the Nixon administration, I didn't remember anything about it. As I sat there Friday night, it all became clear: A single, hairy male creature, content living in a hole in the ground, reluctantly leaves his snacks to join a bunch of other single, bizzare males on an adventure, finds a fabulous ring, slays a dragon and is given an amazing gold lame jacket as a reward. I suddenly realized what a visionary J.R.R. Tolkein really was: This story is a two-hour special edition of Queer Eye for the Hobbit Guy.

Saturday afternoon, TinyTuna and I went to Johnny Rocket's for lunch after spending the morning doing yardwork. We sat (as usual) at the counter, and after she joined the crew to dance Loveshack, the waiter walked by and tossed some paper and a pen at TinyTuna. It was an application. Seriously. A real application. So, what the heck, she filled it out. Position? Dancer. When can you start? Next time I'm here. I told her to cross out "High School" and write in "Elementary School." She learned what references are, and why you can't list your mother as a reference. Reality set in as she was told to be sure to write down the day she turns fifteen. She was aghast. So on the side she wrote "I will be 15 years old on April 8, 2009. I CAN'T WAIT!"

Saturday night was the Guffman gig. Local talent at its local best. It lived up to its billing. I spent a lot of time reciting lines from the movie to keep my sanity in check. It worked. Mostly. Next year I'll bring some morning glory seeds to snack on while I'm waiting. That should keep my spirits high.

Sunday morning was the Durufle church gig and Sunday afternoon we saw a touring company performance of Oliver! Church went better than expected and Oliver was one of the best touring shows I've seen. Great set, outstanding staging, a very tight pit orchestra, and excellent singing. This is considerable praise coming from Queen NitPickypants.

I have one more gig on the horizon. This weekend I go up to Houghton, Michigan to solo with the Keewenaw Symphony in the Mozart Requiem. It should be a fun gig with relatively easy singing. Although the UP is a winter wonderland, the snow should be gone by now (!!), meaning no drunken snowmobilers outside my hotel window at all hours of the night. TinyTuna and GramTuna are coming along for the gig, which will be really nice. My biggest hurdle will be making it over the bridge....
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Saturday, April 24, 2004

GIG-A-BITE

My evening? A toss-up between Waiting for Guffman and the Fiasco story from This American Life. In 8.5 hours it will be time to dive back into the Durufle requiem. Sunday afternoon will be a performance of Oliver followed by an evening of collapsing and napping. Oy veh.

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GIG-A-BITE
My evening? A toss-up between Waiting for Guffman and the Fiasco story from This American Life. In 8.5 hours it will be time to dive back into the Durufle requiem. Sunday afternoon will be a performance of Oliver followed by an evening of collapsing and napping. Oy veh.
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Friday, April 23, 2004

Q IS FOR EBAY

It's Food Friday, and the Queen of all things edible, The Friday Chef says "Q is for Quick". This is awesome -- speedy food that doesn't require shouting into a clown mouth to get it. Go ahead and ask my boyfriend about quick meals -- you'll get lots of good ideas and recipes, many from The Food Network.



But what about the road less traveled? Sure, there is Minute Rice and Minute Maid, but despite the fact that the oranges drink Coke and own their own baseball park, it isn't very interesting. There is Fast Food Nation, Fast Food Nutrition and Fast Food Negligence, but that hardly seems like something fun for a Friday.



When in doubt, Go to eBay! There are currently 6848 items of fast-food related clutter just awaiting your purchase. Do you need a set of four Taco Bell talking Chihuahua's to make your life complete? Ebay has got you covered. How about a 2004 McDonalds The Dog #11 West Highland Terrier? Yes indeed. Please note this item is RARE and the the current bid is $20.57 for a hunk of molded plastic. What about two Star Wars Anakin & Jar Jar Binks Taco Bell Toys? Buy it Now! Only $4.00. But why? Does Fabio need a chew toy?



I realize that one hundred years from now when future generations are trotting out their Scrappy Doo Burger King Wind Up Toys for analysis and appraisal, I will be the one crying while they laugh all the way to the safe deposit box. I don't "get" the world of collecting, especially toys. I don't understand the joy in getting a plaything that you can never, ever play with because it decreases its value to the point where it is worth exactly what it was worth to begin with: nothing (with purchase of meal).



Give the pressed plastic a break. Play with your teeny beanies. At least use them for chew toys. Your kids and your pets will thank you. And when you're done, I beg you, please don't bring them to my house. I've been tossing this junk for years.

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Q IS FOR EBAY
It's Food Friday, and the Queen of all things edible, The Friday Chef says "Q is for Quick". This is awesome -- speedy food that doesn't require shouting into a clown mouth to get it. Go ahead and ask my boyfriend about quick meals -- you'll get lots of good ideas and recipes, many from The Food Network.

But what about the road less traveled? Sure, there is Minute Rice and Minute Maid, but despite the fact that the oranges drink Coke and own their own baseball park, it isn't very interesting. There is Fast Food Nation, Fast Food Nutrition and Fast Food Negligence, but that hardly seems like something fun for a Friday.

When in doubt, Go to eBay! There are currently 6848 items of fast-food related clutter just awaiting your purchase. Do you need a set of four Taco Bell talking Chihuahua's to make your life complete? Ebay has got you covered. How about a 2004 McDonalds The Dog #11 West Highland Terrier? Yes indeed. Please note this item is RARE and the the current bid is $20.57 for a hunk of molded plastic. What about two Star Wars Anakin & Jar Jar Binks Taco Bell Toys? Buy it Now! Only $4.00. But why? Does Fabio need a chew toy?

I realize that one hundred years from now when future generations are trotting out their Scrappy Doo Burger King Wind Up Toys for analysis and appraisal, I will be the one crying while they laugh all the way to the safe deposit box. I don't "get" the world of collecting, especially toys. I don't understand the joy in getting a plaything that you can never, ever play with because it decreases its value to the point where it is worth exactly what it was worth to begin with: nothing (with purchase of meal).

Give the pressed plastic a break. Play with your teeny beanies. At least use them for chew toys. Your kids and your pets will thank you. And when you're done, I beg you, please don't bring them to my house. I've been tossing this junk for years.
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OPERATION

Remember the game Operation where you had a bunch of little plastic bones that you had to retrieve with a pair of metal tweezers? The problem was each nook was surrounded by metal, and if the tweezers touched the metal outline the poor shmoe's red bulb nose would light up and a buzzer would sound, signifying you blew it. The box says it's "A Game of Skill!", but really it's just a matter of deep breathing, steady movement and good hand-eye coordination. Perhaps a difficult proposition for a squirrelly kid, but a piece of cake for any adult who has had a couple of glasses of wine.



This morning I need to come up with an email that combines the right amount of humor, professionalism and downright begging without seeming like I'm being a big pain in the butt. Bessie still sits sadly in my office and I NEED HER FIXED TODAY...



More wine. Less whine.

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OPERATION
Remember the game Operation where you had a bunch of little plastic bones that you had to retrieve with a pair of metal tweezers? The problem was each nook was surrounded by metal, and if the tweezers touched the metal outline the poor shmoe's red bulb nose would light up and a buzzer would sound, signifying you blew it. The box says it's "A Game of Skill!", but really it's just a matter of deep breathing, steady movement and good hand-eye coordination. Perhaps a difficult proposition for a squirrelly kid, but a piece of cake for any adult who has had a couple of glasses of wine.

This morning I need to come up with an email that combines the right amount of humor, professionalism and downright begging without seeming like I'm being a big pain in the butt. Bessie still sits sadly in my office and I NEED HER FIXED TODAY...

More wine. Less whine.
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NEXT STOP, THIRD FLOOR

Thank you, Rupert, for winning reward. Thank you, Rupert, for drinking like a fish. Thank you, Amber, for reading the tree mail. Thank you, Romber for singing the "Chaboga Mogo" song.....



1 VivaLaFisty 2760

2 buffs4vol 2663

3 GreenTuna 2571

4 Honeylife 2445

5 copssister 2315

6 Amazingrace 2241

7 The Sketch Factor 2209

8 Snappie 2038

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NEXT STOP, THIRD FLOOR
Thank you, Rupert, for winning reward. Thank you, Rupert, for drinking like a fish. Thank you, Amber, for reading the tree mail. Thank you, Romber for singing the "Chaboga Mogo" song.....

1 VivaLaFisty 2760
2 buffs4vol 2663
3 GreenTuna 2571
4 Honeylife 2445
5 copssister 2315
6 Amazingrace 2241
7 The Sketch Factor 2209
8 Snappie 2038
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Thursday, April 22, 2004

CHA-CHING

Gig number 857. I got a Durufle Requiem gig for Sunday. Yay team. This will help to offset my Guffman gig on Saturday night.

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CHA-CHING
Gig number 857. I got a Durufle Requiem gig for Sunday. Yay team. This will help to offset my Guffman gig on Saturday night.
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I GOT THE MUSIC IN ME

Although teaching is done for the academic year, the Tuna Dog and Pony show still have several more engagements before things settle down for the summer. Last night I had a gig singing Schubert's Mass in G, D. 167 with a couple of area high schools. Well, area if you consider an hour away to be "area". One of the reasons I took the gig was that one of the conductors was one of my earliest voice students up north. Now she's all grown up with a choral program of her own



So, yesterday afternoon, the Tuna Clan took a little scenic drive to do the concert. It was not an "as the crow flies" kind of route, as the mapquest directions had to be continued on page two. As we left the highway we had to weave our way through a large amount of farmland, punctuated by various towns and hamlets. One particularly interesting town had not one watering hole, but two, battling it out for local business. The first was the ever-popular "Corner Bar" which in the spirit of truth in advertising was indeed, on a corner. As quaint as that was, though, nothing could beat its rival. Sure, every town has a "Corner Bar" ... but how many can boast a "Down the Hatch Saloon"?



If I had a camera with me, I would have stopped. Heck, if I didn't have to sing, I would have stopped. Next time I'll try to be a better boyscout and Be Prepared, although I'm betting saloons weren't exactly what they had in mind.



The gig went fine. We buried the tenor, who was a nice guy, but between the baritone and the soprano, he never really had a chance. You can catch excerpts (no, it's not me) of my solo work in the Kyrie, Gloria and Benedictus. Next up is a Mozart Requiem in the UP. Knowing all the sights of Yooperland, the Down the Hatch Saloon may have some competition.

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I GOT THE MUSIC IN ME
Although teaching is done for the academic year, the Tuna Dog and Pony show still have several more engagements before things settle down for the summer. Last night I had a gig singing Schubert's Mass in G, D. 167 with a couple of area high schools. Well, area if you consider an hour away to be "area". One of the reasons I took the gig was that one of the conductors was one of my earliest voice students up north. Now she's all grown up with a choral program of her own

So, yesterday afternoon, the Tuna Clan took a little scenic drive to do the concert. It was not an "as the crow flies" kind of route, as the mapquest directions had to be continued on page two. As we left the highway we had to weave our way through a large amount of farmland, punctuated by various towns and hamlets. One particularly interesting town had not one watering hole, but two, battling it out for local business. The first was the ever-popular "Corner Bar" which in the spirit of truth in advertising was indeed, on a corner. As quaint as that was, though, nothing could beat its rival. Sure, every town has a "Corner Bar" ... but how many can boast a "Down the Hatch Saloon"?

If I had a camera with me, I would have stopped. Heck, if I didn't have to sing, I would have stopped. Next time I'll try to be a better boyscout and Be Prepared, although I'm betting saloons weren't exactly what they had in mind.

The gig went fine. We buried the tenor, who was a nice guy, but between the baritone and the soprano, he never really had a chance. You can catch excerpts (no, it's not me) of my solo work in the Kyrie, Gloria and Benedictus. Next up is a Mozart Requiem in the UP. Knowing all the sights of Yooperland, the Down the Hatch Saloon may have some competition.
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CLEANUP ON AISLE NINE

Before moving on to new topics, there appears to be more than a little bit of cleanup to do on various topics...



American Idol

So this is what happens when I'm gone singing Schubert? America loses its ever-living freaking mind and puts up the three best singers as the three lowest vote-getters? Obviously, this makes no sense. Obviously voting is based on phases of the moon, or mind control, or personality. Yes, the personality ploy doesn't make any sense either, because the red-haired moppet doesn't strike me as being particularly personable. Elmo? Personable. Moppet? Not so much. Obviously Jennifer Hudson did NOT deserve to go, especially after Tuesday's performance.



Obviously, the voting on American Idol doesn't carry the importance of something like World Peace, but I have to imagine that if voting continues along the same lines, it could easily kill the show over the long haul. Yes, AI makes a bucket-full of money and gets great ratings. However, if the finalists and winners continue to be sub-standard performers, it will cheapen the entire franchise and reflect negatively on previous winners as well. Despite Simon's reputation for being a cranky Brit (much of which I believe is done for effect), nearly everything he says is absolutely correct, and I truly believe he is sincere in searching for quality talent. I cannot see him (or Paula, or Randy) continuing with Idol if the top vote-getters include an immature, red-headed moppet whose very best is a cringe-worthy performance of "Mandy". Someone had better look at the voting structure and make some changes quickly.



One final piece of proof that this show is headed for trouble, is this bit from a TV-Guide Online interview with last week's bootee, Jon Peter Lewis:



TVGO: What do you think of Simon's suggestion that you take singing lessons?

JPL: I haven't thought about it. The kind of music I'm into doesn't require tons of singing lessons.

TVGO: Couldn't hurt. Even the pros work with voice coaches, don't they?

JPL: I don't know if I will or not. My next step is not to get a voice coach. At this point, my plan is to work on putting out an album as soon as possible.



That kind of attitude alone should disqualify the Footloose-Elvis wannabee from the entire American Idol process. He has limited natural talent and absolutely no desire to learn any skills to fix, develop and polish what he's got. Unfortunately, I fear this attitude runs rampant among many wishing to become rich and famous singing pop songs. At the rate Idol is going, there will be nothing but a handful of William Hung-ians appearing on VH1's "What on earth were we thinking?"





Apprentice

Sign of the Apocalypse: Omorosa (you know you love her) has landed a bit part on the soap Passions. Thank God she won't be sullying the CBS soap-opera stronghold (unless Victor Newman chewed her up for lunch. That might be fun). In addition, Omorosa claims she is in negotiations for a TV-Sitcom. About what?? A thousand punchlines fly overhead...



And in typical six degrees of something ... my coworker just returned from a conference in New York City. Her husband shook hands with Apprentice winner Bill Rancic, who had just finished his Today Show interview and seemed determined to shake hands with everybody he saw, whether they wanted to or not.



Bessie

...may finally see some action today, fingers crossed...

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CLEANUP ON AISLE NINE
Before moving on to new topics, there appears to be more than a little bit of cleanup to do on various topics...

American Idol
So this is what happens when I'm gone singing Schubert? America loses its ever-living freaking mind and puts up the three best singers as the three lowest vote-getters? Obviously, this makes no sense. Obviously voting is based on phases of the moon, or mind control, or personality. Yes, the personality ploy doesn't make any sense either, because the red-haired moppet doesn't strike me as being particularly personable. Elmo? Personable. Moppet? Not so much. Obviously Jennifer Hudson did NOT deserve to go, especially after Tuesday's performance.

Obviously, the voting on American Idol doesn't carry the importance of something like World Peace, but I have to imagine that if voting continues along the same lines, it could easily kill the show over the long haul. Yes, AI makes a bucket-full of money and gets great ratings. However, if the finalists and winners continue to be sub-standard performers, it will cheapen the entire franchise and reflect negatively on previous winners as well. Despite Simon's reputation for being a cranky Brit (much of which I believe is done for effect), nearly everything he says is absolutely correct, and I truly believe he is sincere in searching for quality talent. I cannot see him (or Paula, or Randy) continuing with Idol if the top vote-getters include an immature, red-headed moppet whose very best is a cringe-worthy performance of "Mandy". Someone had better look at the voting structure and make some changes quickly.

One final piece of proof that this show is headed for trouble, is this bit from a TV-Guide Online interview with last week's bootee, Jon Peter Lewis:

TVGO: What do you think of Simon's suggestion that you take singing lessons?
JPL: I haven't thought about it. The kind of music I'm into doesn't require tons of singing lessons.
TVGO: Couldn't hurt. Even the pros work with voice coaches, don't they?
JPL: I don't know if I will or not. My next step is not to get a voice coach. At this point, my plan is to work on putting out an album as soon as possible.

That kind of attitude alone should disqualify the Footloose-Elvis wannabee from the entire American Idol process. He has limited natural talent and absolutely no desire to learn any skills to fix, develop and polish what he's got. Unfortunately, I fear this attitude runs rampant among many wishing to become rich and famous singing pop songs. At the rate Idol is going, there will be nothing but a handful of William Hung-ians appearing on VH1's "What on earth were we thinking?"


Apprentice
Sign of the Apocalypse: Omorosa (you know you love her) has landed a bit part on the soap Passions. Thank God she won't be sullying the CBS soap-opera stronghold (unless Victor Newman chewed her up for lunch. That might be fun). In addition, Omorosa claims she is in negotiations for a TV-Sitcom. About what?? A thousand punchlines fly overhead...

And in typical six degrees of something ... my coworker just returned from a conference in New York City. Her husband shook hands with Apprentice winner Bill Rancic, who had just finished his Today Show interview and seemed determined to shake hands with everybody he saw, whether they wanted to or not.

Bessie
...may finally see some action today, fingers crossed...
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Wednesday, April 21, 2004

COLOR MY WORLD

Or Colour for my Canadian friends.



Well, here is a two-minute dose of crack for all y'all. Find your Pantone Birthday Color. My birthday month color is Green, which they claim is the color of spring (duh) and can help heal the physical body and align the spirit with wealth and prosperity. Hmph. I'm wearing green pants today, and so far...nothing. Maybe I need to steal a pair of pants from a rich person who left a billion dollars in the pocket by mistake.



My birthday day color is Mandarin Orange, aka Pantone 16-1459. MPF. The day I wear orange, mandarin or otherwise is the day I'm admitted to the funny farm. Be that as it may, my hideous day color says



Musical -- Verbal -- Tenacious. Youthful and friendly, you love to talk and interact with others. Many of you have a gift for writing or public speaking. You like to be on the move. You do need to practice flexibility as you move towards your goals. It is a combination of tenacity and agility combined with work and play that will ensure success. Your personal color helps you make the most out of every moment. Wearing, meditating or surrounding yourself with Mandarin Orange reminds you to take action and not get caught up in the world of ideas.



Whatever. However, TinyTuna's Birthday Day color is Lipstick Red: Deep -- Stimulating -- Powerful. She'd be pleased.

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COLOR MY WORLD
Or Colour for my Canadian friends.

Well, here is a two-minute dose of crack for all y'all. Find your Pantone Birthday Color. My birthday month color is Green, which they claim is the color of spring (duh) and can help heal the physical body and align the spirit with wealth and prosperity. Hmph. I'm wearing green pants today, and so far...nothing. Maybe I need to steal a pair of pants from a rich person who left a billion dollars in the pocket by mistake.

My birthday day color is Mandarin Orange, aka Pantone 16-1459. MPF. The day I wear orange, mandarin or otherwise is the day I'm admitted to the funny farm. Be that as it may, my hideous day color says

Musical -- Verbal -- Tenacious. Youthful and friendly, you love to talk and interact with others. Many of you have a gift for writing or public speaking. You like to be on the move. You do need to practice flexibility as you move towards your goals. It is a combination of tenacity and agility combined with work and play that will ensure success. Your personal color helps you make the most out of every moment. Wearing, meditating or surrounding yourself with Mandarin Orange reminds you to take action and not get caught up in the world of ideas.

Whatever. However, TinyTuna's Birthday Day color is Lipstick Red: Deep -- Stimulating -- Powerful. She'd be pleased.
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UH-OH MANDY

It was a Barry Manilow love fest last night on American Idol. Since I'm still computer free at night, I sat down and watched it with TinyTuna. I made a MPFs last night, but my comments -- although edited for content -- were nearly the same as if were sitting in front of my computer.



Diana DeGarmo ("One Voice") -- Call a priest, because she needs an exorcism, STAT. The shrieking spectre of Celine Dion is still Going on from last weeks scream-a-rama. I know she is only 16 and has a big voice, but there is no reason she needs to keep pushing so hard, unless she simply enjoys singing sharp.



George Huff ("Tryin' to get the feeling again") -- Hrmph. I like George, but by the time he was done singing last night, there wasn't much left of the original song. He may have been Trying to Get the Feeling Again, but it would have been better if he were Trying to Get the Melody Again. Too much improv and vocal gymnastics made it sound less like George the Singer and more like George of the Jungle.



Jennifer Hudson ("Weekend in New England") -- Nice singing. I haven't heard many of the earlier shows, but she was dead-on last night. When I am able to relax and listen rather than fret and critique during a performance, things are good. And they were.



Jasmine Trias ("I'll Never Love this way again") -- It was OK. She has an thin, youngish sound that drives me a little crazy, and she was overpowered when she sang in her lower range. Things got better as the song got higher. Simon noted she finally "got rid of the silly flower". Poor Simon. Jasmine made sure he saw that she had it on her skirt. I think she should take the hint, and toss it. We know who you are, and we don't need any more visual aids telling us you are from Hawaii. Take a hint and pitch the petunia.



John Stevens ("Mandy") -- Oh Mandy. Oh No, Mandy. Uh-oh Spaghetti-os, Mandy. MPF. Even Mandy says John Stevens must go. If anybody but John Stevens gets cut, well, I'll understand how Achy, Breaky Heart made kabillions of dollars. This song was too hard. This song was too low. This song was too grown up, and he had NO CLUE what to do with it. In addition, it seemed that to compensate for notes out of his range, he affected this bizarre pseudo-Irish accent. Please America, do NOT vote for the red-haired moppet, or you'll have to hear more about oh, say, MANDY.



LaToya London ("All the Time") and Fantasia Barrino ("Miracle") -- I see the finals being between these two women, with perhaps Jennifer Hudson as a potential spoiler. LaToya and Fantasia seem to be the most consistent from week to week. Powehouse singers, the both of them. Overall, I see (and hear) LaToya being more in control, vocally, and Fantasia being able to provide an unexpected jaw-dropping performance, when she is so moved. Song selection could prove key over the next several weeks.

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UH-OH MANDY
It was a Barry Manilow love fest last night on American Idol. Since I'm still computer free at night, I sat down and watched it with TinyTuna. I made a MPFs last night, but my comments -- although edited for content -- were nearly the same as if were sitting in front of my computer.

Diana DeGarmo ("One Voice") -- Call a priest, because she needs an exorcism, STAT. The shrieking spectre of Celine Dion is still Going on from last weeks scream-a-rama. I know she is only 16 and has a big voice, but there is no reason she needs to keep pushing so hard, unless she simply enjoys singing sharp.

George Huff ("Tryin' to get the feeling again") -- Hrmph. I like George, but by the time he was done singing last night, there wasn't much left of the original song. He may have been Trying to Get the Feeling Again, but it would have been better if he were Trying to Get the Melody Again. Too much improv and vocal gymnastics made it sound less like George the Singer and more like George of the Jungle.

Jennifer Hudson ("Weekend in New England") -- Nice singing. I haven't heard many of the earlier shows, but she was dead-on last night. When I am able to relax and listen rather than fret and critique during a performance, things are good. And they were.

Jasmine Trias ("I'll Never Love this way again") -- It was OK. She has an thin, youngish sound that drives me a little crazy, and she was overpowered when she sang in her lower range. Things got better as the song got higher. Simon noted she finally "got rid of the silly flower". Poor Simon. Jasmine made sure he saw that she had it on her skirt. I think she should take the hint, and toss it. We know who you are, and we don't need any more visual aids telling us you are from Hawaii. Take a hint and pitch the petunia.

John Stevens ("Mandy") -- Oh Mandy. Oh No, Mandy. Uh-oh Spaghetti-os, Mandy. MPF. Even Mandy says John Stevens must go. If anybody but John Stevens gets cut, well, I'll understand how Achy, Breaky Heart made kabillions of dollars. This song was too hard. This song was too low. This song was too grown up, and he had NO CLUE what to do with it. In addition, it seemed that to compensate for notes out of his range, he affected this bizarre pseudo-Irish accent. Please America, do NOT vote for the red-haired moppet, or you'll have to hear more about oh, say, MANDY.

LaToya London ("All the Time") and Fantasia Barrino ("Miracle") -- I see the finals being between these two women, with perhaps Jennifer Hudson as a potential spoiler. LaToya and Fantasia seem to be the most consistent from week to week. Powehouse singers, the both of them. Overall, I see (and hear) LaToya being more in control, vocally, and Fantasia being able to provide an unexpected jaw-dropping performance, when she is so moved. Song selection could prove key over the next several weeks.
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Tuesday, April 20, 2004

TALK AMONGST YOURSELVES

Here are a couple of lists for you to chew on. In the upcoming May 2004 issue of Blender, they have named "The 50 Worst Songs Ever". Qualifying songs have to have been a "hit" in their day, which means that for the purposes of this list, the recorded works of William Hung have been mercifully excused.



According to Blender Magazine, The ten worst are:



10. Ebony and Ivory -- Paul McCartney, Stevie Wonder, 1982

9. American Life -- Madonna, 2003

8. Party all the time -- Eddie Murphy, 1985

7. Don't worry, be happy -- Bobby McFerrin, 1988

6. The heart of rock and roll -- Huey Lewis & the News, 1984

5. Ice Ice Baby -- Vanilla Ice, 1990

4. Rollin' -- Limpbizkit, 2000

3. Everybody have fun tonight -- Wang Chung, 1986

2. Achy Breaky Heart -- Billy Ray Cyrus, 1992

1. We Built this City -- Starship, 1985



Although I haven't seen the complete list, other mentions include Aqua's Barbie Girl, The Beatles' Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da and Simon and Garfunkel's The Sounds of Silence. The worst song list coincides with a VH1 special to be aired in May 2004.



Last year, Blender compiled their list of the fifty worst artists in music history. Looking it over, I agree with many, but I am dumbfounded by the inclusion of others.



1. Insane Clown Posse

2. Emerson, Lake and Palmer

3. Michael Bolton

4. Kenny G

5. Starship

6. Kansas

7. Asia

8. Vanilla Ice

9. Lee Greenwood

10. Air Supply

11. Latoya Jackson

12. Tin Machine

13. Mick Jagger

14. Yngwie Malmsteen

15. Yanni

16. Oingo Boingo

17. Benzino

18. Pat Boone

19. Dan Fogelberg

20. Howard Jones

21. The Alan Parsons Project

22. Primus

23. Creed

24. Bad English

25. Jamiroquai

26. Celine Dion

27. Colour Me Bad

28. Crash Test Dummies

29. Skinny Puppy

30. Richard Marx

31. Arrested Development

32. The Hooters

33. Japan

34. Live

35. Paul Oakenfold

36. 98 Degrees

37. The Doors

38. Nelson

39. Bob Geldof

40. Blind Melon

41. Whitesnake

42. Rick Wakeman

43. Mike and the Mechanics

44. Manowar

45. Gipsy Kings

46. The Spin Doctors

47. Goo Goo Dolls

48. Master P

49. Toad the Wet Sprocket

50. Iron Butterfly



You make the call. What are the five worst songs and five worst artists?

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TALK AMONGST YOURSELVES
Here are a couple of lists for you to chew on. In the upcoming May 2004 issue of Blender, they have named "The 50 Worst Songs Ever". Qualifying songs have to have been a "hit" in their day, which means that for the purposes of this list, the recorded works of William Hung have been mercifully excused.

According to Blender Magazine, The ten worst are:

10. Ebony and Ivory -- Paul McCartney, Stevie Wonder, 1982
9. American Life -- Madonna, 2003
8. Party all the time -- Eddie Murphy, 1985
7. Don't worry, be happy -- Bobby McFerrin, 1988
6. The heart of rock and roll -- Huey Lewis & the News, 1984
5. Ice Ice Baby -- Vanilla Ice, 1990
4. Rollin' -- Limpbizkit, 2000
3. Everybody have fun tonight -- Wang Chung, 1986
2. Achy Breaky Heart -- Billy Ray Cyrus, 1992
1. We Built this City -- Starship, 1985

Although I haven't seen the complete list, other mentions include Aqua's Barbie Girl, The Beatles' Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da and Simon and Garfunkel's The Sounds of Silence. The worst song list coincides with a VH1 special to be aired in May 2004.

Last year, Blender compiled their list of the fifty worst artists in music history. Looking it over, I agree with many, but I am dumbfounded by the inclusion of others.

1. Insane Clown Posse
2. Emerson, Lake and Palmer
3. Michael Bolton
4. Kenny G
5. Starship
6. Kansas
7. Asia
8. Vanilla Ice
9. Lee Greenwood
10. Air Supply
11. Latoya Jackson
12. Tin Machine
13. Mick Jagger
14. Yngwie Malmsteen
15. Yanni
16. Oingo Boingo
17. Benzino
18. Pat Boone
19. Dan Fogelberg
20. Howard Jones
21. The Alan Parsons Project
22. Primus
23. Creed
24. Bad English
25. Jamiroquai
26. Celine Dion
27. Colour Me Bad
28. Crash Test Dummies
29. Skinny Puppy
30. Richard Marx
31. Arrested Development
32. The Hooters
33. Japan
34. Live
35. Paul Oakenfold
36. 98 Degrees
37. The Doors
38. Nelson
39. Bob Geldof
40. Blind Melon
41. Whitesnake
42. Rick Wakeman
43. Mike and the Mechanics
44. Manowar
45. Gipsy Kings
46. The Spin Doctors
47. Goo Goo Dolls
48. Master P
49. Toad the Wet Sprocket
50. Iron Butterfly

You make the call. What are the five worst songs and five worst artists?
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