The Newest Ron Popiel Product! As seen on ABC, NBC and FOX

I love this product! I've recommended it to all my friends and family!



*No CoD's...S&H not included.
**If you order now, you get a second one free!!!!!!

Sad Sunday at the Store

So I went grocery shopping this afternoon. At 7-11. I was alone, living it up at my parent’s house (they were out of town for the week and took the only running car) when I relized all that remained in the fridge was half a box of baking soda and a stick of margarine circa the Clinton administration. Trying to take the county bus in the burbs on a Sunday to the grocery store is most definitely not advisable, so I decided to walk the mile and a half to the outdoor shopping center (i.e. strip mall) and purchase some provisions. I thought I would just stop at the drug store, since all I needed was a loaf of bread and some milk. But apparently, since I was last home, it had turned into a parking lot.


Therefore, I was left choice but to head down the lane and enter the 7-11…Well, it was either that or pick up a week’s worth of lo mein at Mama Wok. I decided to avoid the MSG in favor of trans fat and go to the 7-11. I bought enriched hot dog buns (there were no loaves available), sliced American cheese product, a bottle of water and a Sunday paper. I purchased the merchandise, which totaled 16$, (apparently the price we pay for convenience) and went on my sad way, imagining the other customers shaking their heads at me in pity. I returned home and as I put my “groceries” away, I realized I should have bought more stuff. Way more stuff. However, I know I won’t starve, and if I get hungry enough, I can always nibble the news print.

You Betcha!

If John McCain dies, this woman would become our first female president...










AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But she sure is pretty, which is important.

The Red (White and Blue too) Olympics...

Please, somebody help me... I have Olympic Fever. Every night until one in the morning I am fixated by sport… swimming, gymnastics, and yes, even trampoline (they may be getting rid of baseball in the next summer games, but damn it, we have trampoline).


Now, all of us have heard about the controversy surrounding the Chinese “women’s” gymnastics team. Though cheating on the world stage is a brazen move, I do feel that turning girl babies into gymnasts prematurely is probably a better alternative than sending them down the Yangtze…On another note, why is it that the women’s volleyball team wears bikinis and the men’s team outfits itself in shorts and tee’s? Is that really a sign of equity among the sexes? Of course, the male gymnasts do wear little tiny spandex leggings so I guess all’s fair.... Oh and that Michael Phelps. Have you heard of him? Yes, thank you Bob Costas, we know he’s awesome and that he consumes 10,000 calories a day, but must you refer to him as Dolphin Boy?


Go USA!



Oh, and if you see either of these girls, please alert the cute police, because appparently one is not (for those just tuning in, the accused is the girl on the right, according to the Chinese state media).

V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N (almost)

I have been saving my vacation days like a miser since last summer and as a result have nearly 3 weeks of leave. I have decided to use that time to motor across the country and see the best sights this country has to offer. I know gas prices are high, but it’s my patriotic duty to make sure the terrorists don’t win, right? I'm heading to the Grand Canyon, Mt. Rushmore, and of course, Graceland, Dollywood and the Corn Palace. I also hope to encounter the World's Largest Ball of Twine along the way.



My vacation could not have come at better time, as the last week has nearly unhinged my fragile psyche. I injured my knee (swimming of all things, but to be fair it was in the Atlantic and the sea was hella rough. Yes, I just wrote “hella.”), nearly killed two electricians working in my office when I turned on the lights (an event that could have been easily averted by a small piece of tape over the switches. The two electricians turned out to be fine, though the shock definitely took a year off my life), and got in to a fight with a taxi cab driver who took me two miles in the wrong direction and then charged me 10$ for dropping me off in the same spot he picked me up at. To top it all off, I was solicited by a cult this morning at the library. I smiled and said politely, that no, I was not interested in their conference featuring up and coming artists and free food, nor would I sign their petition or attend their free relaxation seminar.



Anyway, I will be conducting my own relaxation therapy starting tomorrow, as I hit the road and head west. Upon my return, I will share my adventures in America Land, but in the meantime, be wary of any group that approaches you in the library inquiring about your financial stability, your relationship with your parents, and whether or not you crave a new and exciting lifestyle.

The Hot Cop

Well, I think the writer’s block has finally been knocked out of me. I have been struggling for the last couple of weeks, staring at my new shiny computer with nothing new to write. That is until yesterday, when my inspiration literally came knocking at the door.

I was in the attendance of my close girlfriends bachelorette party and though I was in on the “big” surprise, I was still a bit on edge when “Logan,” the friendly neighborhood hired stripper, showed up. He was impeccably dressed in tight slacks, a barely there button down, and boots that seemed to buckle up to his neck. Logan came armed with a boom box and promptly got to work. While I was expecting some slick oily man gyrating his pelvis perversely in all directions, he was actually quite tasteful and rather decent, shoving his junk in my face only once. Though he wouldn’t leave me for the next girl until I slapped his ass, I was thankful he asked for only a slap and not a tug as I had feared.

The bride- to -be sat on a chair and Logan went about his business, gyrating this, swiveling that, eventually lifting her out of her seat. He danced around nimbly for quite some time, commenting about “how hot” he was, when suddenly, in one swift graceful motion, his pant were off. Of course, by that point, he really was sweating and panting, and just a bit more that I thought he would be doing just for the show, so I offered to get him a glass of water, which he readily accepted.

Since I did Logan a favor, he went a bit easy on me, only straddling me once as I crossed my legs together so tightly they began to quiver. He then moved on to the next girl as I breathed a sigh of relief. It was over and I survived. My stripper cherry had been popped and it couldn’t have been done by a nicer gentleman. He slipped us all his card (better his card then something else) and I took a furtive glance at it before casting it aside. Apparently, Touch Too Much Entertainment recommends Logan and its other entertainers for a wide variety of events, including promotions, office parties, and retirement celebrations. Hmmm…yes what better a better way to honor Grandpa Earl’s 30 years of service to his company than hiring a stripper for his retirement luncheon.

Though the experience could have easily been more traumatic than it was, I remain haunted the by the sight of red spandex and the opening measures of Eye of the Tiger.

The Move

So moving sucks…especially when it’s to your folks’ house. It’s almost depressing enough to make me want to quit my job, move into the basement and make a living selling fake ideas to the high school kids. Almost.

I find myself in this particular living situation because my roommate decided to do something utterly grown up… to get married. As happy as I am for her, that meant I needed to find a new place and though I have a full time job, I cannot afford to live alone in the city that I work. Ok, well at least in a neighborhood I am less likely to be shot. Given the circumstances, I made the decision to move home for the summer, home being the suburbs where I grew up. It’s only temporary and I thought I had come to terms with it, but bringing that first load of boxes up to my old room (still plastered with Beatle posters and an occasional Tiger Beat cover) made me feel uneasy, a bit like a failure.

I am hopeful to find a place by September and that this period at home will just be a temporary blip on my “grown up” life radar. However, as I lie in the tiny twin bed I have slept in since I was 4 (luckily I was a large child so it’s actually quite comfortable), draw the teddy bear curtains closed over my windows and shout a “ g’night” to my Ma, I am filled with warm gooey feelings of nostalgia. Then I suddenly remember I am in my mid twenties, single, have a crappy job, and live at home… and the feeling quickly fades. And on top of everything, on Sunday evenings, I am still not allowed to talk during 60 Minutes.