Joe McCain: Denny Crane Personified?

In DC-area news today:

A 911 tape, reportedly of Sen. John McCain ’s brother Joe, could prove controversial for the McCain camp since the call was not for an emergency, but rather to complain about being stuck in traffic.

The call came into Alexandria’s 911 system on October 21.

Operator: 911 state your emergency

Caller: It’s not an emergency, but do you know why on one side at the damn drawbridge of 95 traffic is stopped for 15 minutes and yet traffic’s coming the other way?

Operator: Sir, are you calling 911 to complain about traffic? (pause)

Caller: “(Expletive) you.” (caller hangs up)

Forget that his brother is trying to clinch a national election—doesn’t this sound exactly like something Denny Crane would do? (Btw, if you don’t already watch Boston Legal, you should start. Pretty good.)

Oh, my. Lots of gems today. And Chris Glass is right…a photo like this is made better by its total lack of context.

Of course, if you’ve got ideas or photo captions you’d like to share, please fire away via comments.

[Jam of the Day]: She and Him, You Really Got A Hold On Me

[UPDATE] Bag of Butts: Smart Glass Denver

The Smart Glass Denver story continues to roll. Kristi was interviewed by the Westword this week. You can peep the article here. Pretty amazing stuff.

Now remember, kids: Don’t screw with people who know how to use the intarwebs.

Well, that’s one way to do it.

From Reuters: “Hide your old pills in poop, U.S. government says”

Best headline of the morning if you ask me. Here’s a fun excerpt:

“The U.S. government declares ferret poop to be an effective weapon against drug abuse.”

Oh, so many questions.

1. Why would you get rid of extra pain pills? I keep mine in a safe place for recreational future use.
2. Why would shoving old pills in poop be your first course of action? Why not flush them?
3. Why is ferret poop the mother of all drug combatants?
4. Why would you get rid of extra pain pills?

Also, all the talk of “disguising” pills is making me laugh. For some reason I keep thinking of wigs and fake mustaches. Awesome.

To the Guy Who Crapped in My Parking Stall

What a stellar find that was passed along to me by my buddy, MRRRRRRP today.

Still snickering over, “I’m tempted to start out by saying, ‘You know who you are,’ but perhaps you don’t. [...] First, you’re almost certainly male. Either that or you’re the 1976 East German’s Olympic Gold Medal Weightlifting Champion. There’s a slim possibility you’re a horse.”

All this is very coincidental seeing as we came across a random, rather large piece of fecal matter in our work parking lot today. Which made me think of the Sprinkle Brigade. Which made me confused about whether to laugh or dry heave. And I hate when that happens. I always omit some sort of pathetic, half-assed bleat, like a goat who can’t decide if he’s mad at you for sticking your hand in his face, or happy to get the attention.

In other news, my back and neck are knotted to hell. Think it’s out of line to ask my office to buy me a Herman Miller? I’m starting to feel like a hunchback.

I Still Hate Elisabeth Hasselbeck

Which is why I enjoyed watching Alicia Silverstone straight up snub her when she visited The View. And why I snickered listening to Elisabeth follow it up with lots o’ ass kissing.

I’m evil.

[Related in an evil way]: A Fool In The Forest

I Still Hate Elisabeth Hasselbeck

Which is why I enjoyed watching Alicia Silverstone straight up snub her when she visited The View. And why I snickered listening to Elisabeth follow it up with lots o’ ass kissing.

I’m evil.

[Related in an evil way]: A Fool In The Forest

You know, the old Rub ‘n Tug!

I have returned. And judging from the provisions I bought on the way home from the airport this morning, one might assume that I:

(a) am dehydrated
(b) have eyeballs that feel like a pair of peeled grapes
(c) am a smidgen hungover
(d) am fighting like hell to stay healthy

Don’t let the list fool you; Florida was hardly the time of my life. Though the trip was peppered with quality vignettes (the memories of which are mostly fuzzy and fractured), I was more than happy to be up at 4AM so as to get home to Colorado. That shitty Rocky Mountain turbulence never felt so sweet.

Trip details aside, I can, as a fairly extensive traveler of these great United States, tell you that Orlando, Florida is the snotty nasal cavity of America. The usual overpriced tourist trap crap might be worth it if it weren’t for the homely look of the city itself. (Things seemed quite a bit more bright and shiny and a lot less like an enormous county fair when we took our stellar vacay 13 years ago.)

And don’t get me started on the scam artists commonly referred to as “taxi drivers” and “wait staff.” The infrastructure of that entire city is as befuddling as it is infuriating. I now live with the sincere hope that my future children show no interest in going to Disney World, for I fear I will revert back to a child myself, face down on the bed, arms and legs flailing about, begging my husband for a family vacay anywhere–OH GOD, ANYWHERE–but Walt Disney World.

‘Tis all for now. I just exhausted myself.

You know, the old Rub ‘n Tug!

I have returned. And judging from the provisions I bought on the way home from the airport this morning, one might assume that I:

(a) am dehydrated
(b) have eyeballs that feel like a pair of peeled grapes
(c) am a smidgen hungover
(d) am fighting like hell to stay healthy

Don’t let the list fool you; Florida was hardly the time of my life. Though the trip was peppered with quality vignettes (the memories of which are mostly fuzzy and fractured), I was more than happy to be up at 4AM so as to get home to Colorado. That shitty Rocky Mountain turbulence never felt so sweet.

Trip details aside, I can, as a fairly extensive traveler of these great United States, tell you that Orlando, Florida is the snotty nasal cavity of America. The usual overpriced tourist trap crap might be worth it if it weren’t for the homely look of the city itself. (Things seemed quite a bit more bright and shiny and a lot less like an enormous county fair when we took our stellar vacay 13 years ago.)

And don’t get me started on the scam artists commonly referred to as “taxi drivers” and “wait staff.” The infrastructure of that entire city is as befuddling as it is infuriating. I now live with the sincere hope that my future children show no interest in going to Disney World, for I fear I will revert back to a child myself, face down on the bed, arms and legs flailing about, begging my husband for a family vacay anywhere–OH GOD, ANYWHERE–but Walt Disney World.

‘Tis all for now. I just exhausted myself.

Pod People Took Over My Flickr Account

…And I’m not too happy about it. I’m not sure what in photography’s name is going on, but there are some photos appearing in my photo sets that totally aren’t my photos.

This past weekend I found some photos from my trip to San Francisco on an old memory card. I just uploaded a few and upon viewing them noticed that my photo of some of us lunching had turned into bald baby with its mouth wide open. (Yes, I appreciate the irony.)

I did not, however, find this at all amusing. It was suppose to be a photo of the Golden Gate Bridge:

What the fuck? I think smoking’s a bad habit but Jesus.

Furthermore, one of my favorite photos (“Beware: Pickpockets and Loose Women” from Vesuvio) turned into a pixelated naked soccer player.

With a dozen screwy photos in my San Fran set, there’s bound to be others. My apologies…I’ll try to get it sorted out tonight. Anyone who has suggestions, don’t be shy in offering ‘em up.

[UPDATE]: I guess Flickr has a booger. Hopefully the jar babies will soon rid themselves of my page. How awful.

[UPDATE 2]: Photos are back to normal, and those who didn’t read this last night are now very curious about the jar babies comment.