* I just came out of the control room and I’m fuming. One of the best stories of the day involved a Canadian waiter who got punched in the face. Why? The customer was upset that his steak was “too meaty.” Hilarious, right? We had a soundbite of the waiter explaining this. But during the show, both tapes appeared black. They had nothing on them. So when Zoraida went to read this, we never heard the reason this story was so funny. We never heard the “too meaty” line. Unacceptable!
An investigation shows that the tapes were cut correctly, they just vanished when it came time to play them. As I go around trying to figure out why, I hear from at least four people that this has happened before. Maybe someone wants to send out a note along the lines of, “Don’t expect to have any tape at any time. They might all be black. Toodles.”
That’s like a surgeon going to do a transplant and finding instead of a blood supply, he’s got bags full of air.
I mean seriously…
* Traffic Titan Matt Rodewald asks why we haven’t yet made fun of this video of Rob shooting hoops. Probably because I am intimidated by his tattoo.
In other news, Rob has a tattoo. And a sleeveless shirt.
* Babies born in late summer are taller and stronger than other babies. And as we know, tall people make more money. So unless you want short, weak and poor children, confine your shagging to October, November and December.
I remember seeing an episode of “20/20” where women spoke freely about how awful it would be to date a short guy. God bless YouTube…
It’s hard to make out, but at the end that woman says, “Maybe the only thing you could say is that the other four are murderers.” (Transcript.)
MURDERERS??? Good lord!
Ladies, what’s the deal? Why no love for the short folk? I guess I would have a hard time dating an Amazonian chick who towered above me. But I’d do that before selecting an extremely chunky lass. To each his own, I suppose.
* Thong sales are sliding while granny panties are on the rise. Sound the alarm! After running this story, we were lucky enough to hear Zoraida begin to delve into the mysteries therein. Getting her to volunteer the phrase “panty lines” is the single greatest moment of my career.
* Speaking of thongs, Australian men keep wearing them out on dates. (It occurs to me that “thongs” may be their word for “flip-flops,” but I am braced for the worst.)
* The Grammys were last night. Does anyone care? I sure don’t. That ceremony is always an ego-fueled freak show, filled with one-hit wonders you’ll use as punchlines in jokes three years from now.
* I ran outside this weekend. Where is your sting now, Chicago winter? I have weathered your -30 wind chills and I scoff mightily. Is that the best you can do?
* Some really bored scientist decides to decipher why kissing feels good. Does it really matter why? It just does. (So I imagine… I’ll get back to you on that one.)
* Things you don’t want to have to hear from your daughter as you’re boarding a plane: “Is that the devil’s horse?”
* When Rod Blagojevich was in college, he used to run out of restaurants without paying his bill. There are these things called “red flags.” They are always easier to see in hindsight.
* USA Today asks if we should end Black History Month. Cue Jesse Jackson’s picketing posse in 3, 2, 1…
* If someone’s intestines are protruding from an open abdominal wound, should you:
A) Put them back in place?
B) Do nothing?
C) Cover them with some kind of container and fasten it around the body?
Answer correctly and you win a Chinese driver’s license!
* I have to get around to reapplying for my job this week. The deadline is Thursday. What do you write in a cover letter for such a thing? “Hey, you know me and I rule. Why don’t we let me keep ruling?”
At least I get the shot to reapply. Illinois is going to lose 147,000 jobs this year. We lost 100,000 last year. Another year like this and Chicago’s going to look like a Mad Max movie.
* “Lack of love and comfort makes for a crazy monkey.” For visuals, stop by my apartment on Valentine’s Day.
* Speaking of love, the Washington Post offers this sobering article about finding the perfect mate. Because you may have to register for the site, and registering for news sites is dumb, I’ll drop some choice excerpts here…
The number of possible pairs of two in a population of 6.7 billion is very, very large, and an omniscient observer could find the best partners only by inspecting each and every possible match. There are 28 million times more possible romantic matches among people in this world than there are stars in the Milky Way.
That’s encouraging. Let’s hear more…
People have an almost impossible task in finding a mate. Society can do a better job of providing opportunities for them to signal interest in one another. We can start with Feb. 14. If every unattached person selected a few individuals they might be interested in and sent them a valentine, the literature suggests that it would significantly improve the quality of matches.
What the article fails to mention is how many times you should allow yourself to be laughed at before you throw those valentines in the fireplace and use them to warm you while you go online to start shopping for an individual cemetery plot.
* To generate images for this blog, I had to Google image search “intestines” and “granny panties.” You owe me, America.