Wednesdays with Hershel
Chicken Soup for the Groin
Who Moved my Asparagus?
What Color Is Your Parachute? I Don’t Know But the Ground is Getting Really Close So Just Pull the Damn Thing.
Are You There God, It’s Me, Fred, Inventor of Orthopedic Shoes
Archive | Uncategorized
Either
someone near me has wind chimes, or I’m trapped in a constant state of foreshadowing.
Got a question about Greg, Bill or Andy's body language?
Post it in the comments for use in a future body language segment, won’t you? I will be your best friend. Maybe. Oh and please include name, city and favorite RE moment, if you want. Thanks!
What the cluck
Not asking for it
I have a PETA calendar hanging in my kitchen which, to be honest, has less to do with my feelings about PETA than my needing a free calendar. On each day it lists an animal rights landmark, like 50 muskrats liberated or taunting geckos outlawed. On October 18, “a chicken-roping contest was canceled, 2004.” But I keep thinking it says “chicken-raping.” Each time I see it, even though I’ve now seen it a number of times, I misread it. For nearly one month I’ve been having the exact same series of thoughts upon seeing this calendar: “Chicken-raping contest canceled. Wow, chicken-raping? A contest? There really are some sick people in this world. it’s a good thing PETA got that canceled. I can get behind that… oh wait, chicken-roping!”
Up at 6:45 am tomorrow in the New York area?
Well aren’t you a lucky duck? (yes you are, because you can watch me on NBC’s Weekend Today in New York). As for your insomnia, you’re on your own.
perhaps you had to be there
But I thought it was funny in a 50s movie way. This morning I was half awake in the makeup chair and the makeup guy was putting makeup on my chest which is something I always want them to do because I’m pale and if anything I feel like I usually have to nudge them in that direction because they usually tell me “you’re fine, it matches.” But he, on his own, took note of my startling ass-whiteness and began rectifying. “I need you to open like this” he said, pulling my jacket open. I did and he really got in there and then after he said, “Sorry if I was overly familiar with you. It’s early.” I said it was okay (which it was). Then he said, “I assure you it was lost on me.”
As of today
I decided I’m pretty much tired of anyone who has “vision” or “a vision” for anything.
addendum
In discussing our fictional children’s book series (and by that I don’t mean the books are fiction, I mean the books are a fiction) with my sister I learned that I had both the title and the premise of one of them wrong. It’s Jobs are for Carols, Grapes are for Jane. Meaning jobs are for the birds. I thought it was more like “to each his own” like some people like to work jobs, some like to eat grapes. But I was wrong! It’s good I have her here to keep me in line. So anyway, thus far we have: A Turtle Named Jane, See Jane Eat a Grape, Schooltime for Jane and Jobs are for Carols, Grapes are for Jane. The miniseries will be called Jane: Plain and Green. If you are reading this thinking “I don’t get it,” don’t worry. There’s little to get. It’s more a matter of mild to nonexistent amusement.
animals, books, names
Tonight my sister and I invented a game where you say a pet name and then have to figure out what animal it would go with. For example, Carol is very clearly a parrot. Upon realizing that Jane is a turtle, we began coming up with book titles for a series of books about Jane including A New Home for Jane and my personal favorite, See Jane Eat a Grape. We also settled on Jobs are for Carol, Grapes are for Jane and we aren’t quite sure the content, but doesn’t it sound educational? And also heartwarming? We think so too.
Should you find yourself wanting to play this game go right ahead but might I suggest you start with another game we invented called Cow, Sheep, Goat? It’s where someone says the name of a cheese and then you have to say what kind of milk it’s made with. It helps to have an extensive knowledge of cheese, which we lack, hence the game never turned into our own personal Bunko.
Hot Seat with Emily Blunt
It’s hard to believe I still haven’t had gay chicken. Here’s the interview.