Happy New Year! My predictions for 2009

It is the first of January 2009 and I'm blogging already. That's got to be a good sign. A good sign of what I don't know. The two or three of you who have occasionally visited my blog over the past 12 months as it has eroded to the point where you may have thought I had died are certainly appreciated and hopefully I'll be able to be a better blogger over the next twelve months.

I'm sure that blogland is full of posts about New Years resolutions today, but this won't be one of those posts. I do have resolutions, but I'll keep them to myself. Ok, I'll share one. I'd like to revive my blog to the point where it is again somewhat interactive with all my blog friends. Instead of resolutions, using my infamous psychic abilities, I will post a list of my predictions for the coming year.

1. President Barack Obama and his wife will divorce. Being the most powerful man on Earth has it's perks, (and I should know) and one of those is power groupies. Prez Barry won't be able to resist a little extracurricular nookie, perhaps Hilary Clinton who is looking to get revenge on Bill, and will stray from his wife while on a business trip. Michelle Obama will get the White House in the divorce settlement and Barack will then have to rule our country from a cheap apartment full of rental furniture that he was forced to hastily go to after returning from the Middle East to find his clothes and belongings in a pile on the curb in front of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.

2. The economy will effect entertainment magazines and the rain forest. People Magazine, Us weekly and all other entertainment magazines will make the editorial decision not to glamorize celebrities because the "regular" people don't want to hear about the millions they make per picture when we're worrying about keeping our jobs, houses, and retirement funds. So, without any Brad, Jen, and Angelina news on their covers the magazines are reduced to being 47 pages of advertisements that no one buys. The magazines go out of business and the resulting reduction in trees cut down to make the paper saves the rain forest and reverses global warming.

Jesus H. Christ!

No, I'm not mad. It's time to pimp my favorite band once again as they released a new CD about two months ago. Jesus H. Christ and The Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse may have one of the longest band names in the world but they are also one of the funniest bands in the world as well.

About 2 1/2 years ago I posted the lyrics from a song, "Connecticut's For Fucking," from their debut, self-titled album. That song may be one of the funniest songs in music history. I sent the link from my blog to the "Contact us" link on their website (which you can find at the bottom of my blogroll on the left). Soon thereafter I received a somewhat sarcastic e-mail back. Assuming I was corresponding with some record company flunkie, I of course responded in kind and soon discovered that I was actually corresponding with Risa Mickenberg, the lead singer of the band. She turned out to be a very nice and very funny woman who once even sent me a link to a writing job opening for a new music magazine.

Their new CD, "Happier Than You," released in late October is again music for your funny bone. But this band is not just adept at writing clever, humorous lyrics however, they also are a musically talented bunch who puts their wit to sharp, pop/rock music with a brilliant horn sectior, The Four Hornsmen, adding a catchy oomph to every song. That's right, I said oomph. My favorites on the new CD are "Liz the Hot Receptionist" and "Alcoholics in My Town." Both songs are brilliant because of the truth behind the humor. All of us will recognize the characters in "Alcoholics" as people we knew and grew up with in our own Everytown, U.S.A. The band doesn't have a big record company behind them and produces their CD's independently. They all probably have day jobs that they tirelessly slave away at to support their music. Let's help them out by visiting their website, (bottom of blogroll on the left) or by looking them up on Itunes and downloading a few songs, if not the whole CD.

2008: The Year In Review

No, just kidding. I'm seriously not going to review the year either personally or in music, movies, or news. I love the holidays, but I hate watching t.v. this time of year. There isn't a single media outlet of any kind that can resist the obligatory "Year in Review" piece. Why? We all know what happened! We don't need the events ranked for us. And I'm not one to send one of those form letter Christmas cards: "Dear ____________, 2008 was a wonderful year for my family. I started a new job, little Johnny learned to poop indoors and that rash on Susie's face cleared up...blah, blah, blah...." If you're a friend I've talked to you throughout the year and you know what I've been doing and I know what you've been doing. So lets look ahead. Why not list what we'd like to see in the coming year. Here is my list of things I'd like to see in 2009:
1. With the government bailing out the automakers and Wall Street, I'd like them to bail out all the citizens too by eliminating federal income tax for a portion of the year to put more money in our pockets and thus stimulating the economy. Also, the government was so offended that the heads of the auto companies came to Washington in private jets to ask for money. Hippocrites. I'd like to see the President, Senators, and Congreesmen all agree to take pay cuts to balance out my proposed federal tax hiatus. See? I don't just complain. I've got ideas. "I'm an idea man Chuck." If you get that movie reference you win $10 in Phil bucks that can be spent in The Phil Factor Gift shop. Just in time for the holidays.
2. More time. I'd like the physicists to find a way to give us more time every day, or make time travel possible or something. There's ways to get more of everything else except time. It's a non-renewable resource. I'd like a life DVR so I can do somethings now and then go back in time and do other things at the same time. Twice as much productivity each day!
3. At this point I'm out of ideas and coffee. I'll get more of both and be back to add to this list! Happy Holidays!

Unusual Things I'm Thankful For

In the United States it is traditional to get together with family on the Thanksgiving holiday and share the important things you are thankful for before gorging yourself on a meal centered upon the large, dead carcass of the ugliest bird in North America. Every year everyone shares the usual platitudes about being thankful for family and good heath. Duh! Who can't come up with that? So without further adieu, here are some of the everyday things I am thankful for:

1. As mentioned previously, I’m thankful for global warming. Last winter I had about 6 inches of snow in November and 6 inches on the day of the Super Bowl. Other than that it was snow free all winter long, which is astounding in my area. I’m so into global warming that I stocked up on aerosol cans and Freon before they banned both. Now each day I release a little of each into the atmosphere. I’m hoping to create a hole in the ozone directly about my house to let the sun shine in all year long.
2. The hiccups. Yes, I'm thankful for the hiccups. They make others laugh and they make me laugh at myself. They're small, funny, unpredictable, and you never know when they might take control of your body. That kind of sounds like an orgy between Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs doesn't it? I remember a St. Patrick's Day in college when I went out with my friends at 3:00 in the afternoon. By 4:00 I had the hiccups and they didn't stop all night long. I had them so bad it was impossible to get drunk. I've never forgotten that night. To this day I'm certain that fate intervened in the form of hiccups to prevent me from doing something catastrophically stupid. I don't know what it was going to be, but it must have been pretty bad.
3. New socks. Damn I love a new pair of cushy, warm socks. In the winter there's nothing better than having your feet ensconced in a cocoon of soft, warm, cotton.
4. Blogger saving all my old posts so I can just edit and update my Thanksgiving post every year.
5. Canadians. Without their funny accents, lame t.v. shows and colorful money what would life be like? But I've never met a Canadian I didn't like. We should invade them and make them the 51st state. They're kind of like the United States pet aren't they? All cute and cuddly, harmlessly playing in the snow up there.
6. I'm also thankful for all my blog friends who keep visiting and commenting even though I don't always visit your blogs every day or reply to all your comments. So tell me, what unusual things are you thankful for?

A New Phil Law: The Name Game

When I become President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, I will pass a law forming a committee that will be in charge of approving the names of all children in the United States. It is a crime some of the ridiculous names that parents saddle their children with. Here are some of the restrictions that will be part of the Name Committee's mandate:

1) No child with the last name of Head will ever be named Richard. Any family with the last name of Time may not name their child Justin. Any other similar idiocy may be struck down by the committee.

2) You may not give multiple children in the same family the same name. It is not different if you put a II, III, or IV after it.

3) Do not make up new names. You are not smarter or more creative than the people who lived on this earth for thousands of years before you. If it didn't exist as a human name prior to the child's birth, you cannot make it a name. No naming children after objects, events, pieces of fruit, or places.

4) Everyone must go by the name they were given at birth. If you become famous, stick with the name you were given. We all find out your birth name anyway, stop trying to be pretentious.

The Thoughtless Post

Hi everyone, or at least the few of you checking in to see if I still have a pulse. I was going to re-post a re-run from a couple years ago, but I couldn't delete all the comments. So I'll just throw a random stream of thoughts at you. If any of you remember my Golden Boys series, I'd like to give a big CONGRATS to Golden Boy Gooby who just had his first child a few days ago. His stretch marks are going to be killer though. Hopefully I won't be the creepy old uncle.

I had a nice weekend, and the unseasonably warm weather in the northeast is great, but I'm still dejected about the end of summer. Over the weekend I was in a store and they were selling Christmas decorations already. The mix of the display of demonic pirates right next to the inflatable manger scene just seemed wrong. Screw the economy, I want to see congress working on a law that forbids a store from advertising for one holiday before the previous one has concluded.

Happy belated Yom Kippur to all my Jewish friends. Hope your atonement went well. I for one have nothing to atone for, well, except for this post.

When in Rome...

When in Rome...don't plan on finding any parking, or riding in a car bigger than a clown car. Wow, I hadn't realized that it's been 5 weeks since I've blogged. Then again, no one visits here anymore, so why blog? If a blogger writes in the forest and there's no one there to here it...Then again I probably wouldn't get Wi-Fi out in the woods. Wait...I'm hearing a voice from my cornfield. Ok, I don't have a corn field, I think it's coming from my bag of candy corn. That can't be good. What's the voice saying....shhhh...I can't hear...."Phil...if you blog it they will come" What?!!? "If you blog it they will come." Blog what? Who the hell are you and why are you in my candy corn? "Phil...don't be an idiot. Just write the fucking blog." Well, I guess it can be much clearer than that, so I'll keep writing. I hope the candy corn voice tells someone to leave a comment.

Since my last post I went to Rome, Italy. I have to specify that because here in New York there's a small city called Rome also and everytime I told someone I was going to Rome they said "Italy?" There is absolutely no reason to go to Rome, NY, unless that's the closest parking spot you can find to your hotel in Rome, Italy. Rome was a city built without parking. There isn't a parking lot to be found. Sure, you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a piazza or a 1000 year old cathedral, but parking? Forget it. Everyone there either drives something like a smart car, or a vespa type cycle. And they just about stack them to park. You know what would be great? If someone turned the Roman Coliseum into a parking garage. In the words of Billy Fucillo, that place is HUUUUUGE! It used to seat 300,000. Put a multi-level garage inside that thing and run a shuttle bus downtown every 20 minutes and you'd be richer than the pope.

Death.....The Final Frontier

In the movie "When Harry Met Sally," Harry and Sally were talking on the phone when Sally burst into tears because she was going to turn 40. Harry replied, "But that's not for years." To which Sally tearfully replied, "Yeah, but it's out there."

Death has me concerned. There is a whole sector of the population that keeps insisting that death is 'out there' for everyone. Some people keep insisting that it might even happen to me someday. I'm not a big fan of death. I hate when it happens to people I know and I'm even less enthusiastic about the idea that it might happen to me. There's a tiny, tiny part in the back of my brain, one particular brain cell perhaps, that keeps trying to speak up and tell me that some day I may even die. Fortunately all the other brain cells called a meeting and decided to shout down this one rebel cell whenever it decides to open it's big, fat piehole. I've decided to try a different approach to death. Well, a different approach to my potential death. Death is fine for other people, but I'm just not going to do it. The way I look at it is this: Death has never happened to me before, so where is the proof that it's going to happen to me? Just because mankind had never successfully flown before the Wright brothers, they didn't just give up and stay on the ground did they? I think too many people give in to the myth that is death. Think about it. When you were a kid and you stopped believing in Santa Claus, he stopped existing for you didn't he? Well, has anyone ever decided not to believe in death? That's my plan. Like I said, it's never happened to me, so I have no proof that it will.

Rubberneckers

For those of you not familiar with the term, rubberneckers are those people who find it necessary to slow down while driving, just to look at an accident. I hate rubberneckers. The other day on my way to work, the highway suddenly turned into a parking lot. I would have bet money that either construction or a horrific accident had shut down 2 of the 3 highway lanes going my direction into the city. It turns out I was wrong. There had been a vehicle overturned on the other side of the road, blocking the lanes going the other direction. (I swear I saw a cell phone lying on the road next to the flipped pick up truck) The delay on my side was due to rubberneckers. I believe that rubbernecking should be a crime punishable by death, or just to avoid trouble with Amnesty International, perhaps the loss of your driver's license for one year. Of course taking away their license for a year may not be long enough because it will take at least that long before these morons get past the accident they're staring at and pull over for the police. Rubberneckers are fortunate that I do not own a gun and that my vehicle is not equipped with missiles. If anything is likely to cause me road rage it is people who slow me down on the road. It doesn't matter where I'm going. I could be on my way to have all my teeth pulled without any painkiller and I'd still be furious that these people are holding me up. If I was in my car and The Pope, Mother Theresa, and the Dali Lama were in vehicles in front of me I swear I would at least fire a warning shot if any one of them slowed to look at an accident. The glass in The Popemobile is supposedly bulletproof, so I wouldn't feel too bad just bouncing a slug right off his rear window to get him moving.

Citius, Altius, Fortius

If you haven't brushed up on your Latin the title of this piece is the Olympic motto: Swifter, Higher, Stronger. Apparently that motto describes the athletes not only in the arena of competition, but between the sheets as well. As in past games, Olympic officials have distributed more than 100,000 condoms to the 10,500 athletes housed in the Olpympic village. That's roughly 10 condoms per athlete. If you consider that some athletes won't need them because they're married, have an alternative lifestyle, or just monogamous, that means that someone is getting a whole lot of nooky. I wonder if the Olympic athletes have some unofficial records for some of the sports they participate in when the lights go out?

Feeling Blue?

Is it just me, or has everyone noticed that now, virtually every beverage comes in the color blue? Blue is not a color that anything edible in nature is. Unless you eat parrots. Not wanting to eat parrots and suspicious of anything that is a glowing blue I still refuse to drink these freakish liquids. Think about it. It used to be that the only blue liquids were the windshield washer fluid for your car and the stuff the hairdressers put the combs in. How do we know that all the new blue beverages aren't some derivation of those two things?

An Open Letter To Vespa Dude

Dear Vespa Dude,

You are SO not cool. I don't care if you wear a leather jacket and helmet with dark visor, that does not make your scooter a motorcycyle. I don't care if you get 80 miles to the gallon of gas. After two weeks of riding your Vespa the savings should allow you to buy a real motorcycle or maybe even a car. You're an adult and you're riding a SCOOTER! Let that sink in for a moment... If you had any miniscule shot at getting a date with an actual real life woman, your scooter just killed that. Unless Al Gore has a really hot daughter who cares about the environment as much as you do, you're not going to find a woman who wants to be taken out to dinner on a...SCOOTER. (As an aside, Jenna Bush is a smokin' hottie and I'd vote for her dad for a third term if she got to be on tv more because of it) And by the way, if your vehicle has a top speed of 30 mph get the hell off the road. You don't belong in my way. Just because you have a tiny license plate, like the ones I tied on the back of my bike when I was 8, doesn't mean you should be on the road. While you're at it why don't you just clip some baseball cards to the spokes so your Vespa almost sounds like a motorcycle. In fact, because your 30 mph ass is in my lane I have to go slower and take longer, burning more gas and thus negating any benefit to the world you thought you were providing by riding your SCOOTER. I'd like to put my big carbon footprint right up your scooter riding ass.

Whew, it's been a long time since I got off a good rant on here. This time I'm honestly hoping to get back to blogging at least once a week. Thanks for coming back.
Phil

Golden Boy Weekend!

Good friends, bad golf, and alot of beer. That is the essence of Golden Boy Weekend. There's not much else and there doesn't need to be. Me, Tom, and Gooby. We've known each other since we were in diapers and will still probably know each other when we're in diapers again. We grew up together, much like the kids in 'Stand By Me' and we haven't changed much. We've put on the adult suit for most of our days, and although we don't all live on the same street, once a year we get together to revel in our friendship. There have been many infamous adventures involving police, public nudity, and weddings crashed, resulting in stories that will live on in legend. Today is Golden Boy weekend. Stay tuned....

A Couple Random Things

I still have a pulse. If you ever thought of e-mailing me, I'm changing the e-mail for this blog to im_fill@yahoo.com The old e-mail was just too full of spam and I was losing e-mails that I wanted. Also, if you fly and you're not in first class, when you check in ask if you can sit in the emergency exit row. They often don't fill it until last, and many times you might have it to yourself. The emergency exit row also has about double the leg room. Some call it the poor man's first class. I don't care. I've done it a few times and there's nothing better than having three seats to yourself to stretch out on during a long flight.

The Man Crush

I do not have a man crush. Nor have I ever had a man crush. I have twice been the subject of man crushes. For those of you not familiar with the term it's when one allegedly heterosexual man thinks another is just the bomb, the coolest guy he has ever met and just always wants to hang out with him or be like him, but all in a non-sexual way. I believe I may currently be the subject of a man crush. I always have a man crush on myself of course, but it's different when you know another guy is blatantly digging your action in a heterosexual way.

Tell me if this sounds like he has a man crush on me: He once sent me a cell phone pic of himself for no apparent reason. I did not reciprocate. Once in a parking lot when it was raining and I was pushing a shopping cart full of beer and food he, without my asking, ran alongside me holding an umbrella over me. He often calls and talks for like a half hour. Once I got up to find he had left me a phone message at 2:45 a.m. No, he wasn't drunk dialing, but what the hell? He didn't have anything significant to say either. Another time he actually called and talked to me while he was in bed. Granted, we had just gotten off a work conference call early in the morning, but still it was kind of creepy. Women laying in bed talking to me on the phone: hot! Men, not so much.

Construction Vehicle: Do Not Follow

Why is the sign that says "Construction Vehicle: Do Not Follow" only on the back of the construction vehicle where you can only read it if you are already following it? And then of course it's always too late to help you because you're trapped behind a dump truck that's crawling along in a no pass lane for the next two miles.

The Terminal

Ok, I don't really have anything to say. I've just been really busy for the past few weeks. I do think about blogging a lot and feel guilty when I don't. Today I just got back from a week away from home due to work. Remember the Tom Hanks movie 'The Terminal'? My work took me to a very nice place, but the company set me up in the hotel IN the airport. My balcony overlooked the security lines. I had meetings all week in the same hotel. I awoke to the sound of whining kids out in the terminal. I went to the pool on the top of the hotel which conveniently had a beautiful view of...the runways and in the distance a nuclear power plant. I literally lived in an airport for a week.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY !

I have a shamrock tattooed somewhere on my body. If you can guess where, you win 1000 Phil dollars good for any purchase in the Phil Factor gift shop.

Former N.Y. Govenor Eliot Spitzer

Former N.Y. Govenor Eliot Spitzer reportedly spent $80,000 on his high priced call girl over a period of time. Two thoughts: 1) He must REALLY like sex. (of course, who doesn't?) 2) That's a lot of disposable income.

Hyperbole Perhaps?

LONDON, England (CNN) -- The United Nations' anti-drugs chief has denounced celebrities such as pop star Amy Winehouse and supermodel Kate Moss, saying that their alleged drug use was helping devastate West Africa. "Coke-snorting fashionistas are not only damaging their noses and brains -- they are contributing to state failure on the other side of the world," wrote Antonio Maria Costa, the executive director of the UN's Office on Drugs and Crime.

Yeah, lighten up dude. I'm pretty sure that Amy Winehouse and Kate Moss may do a lot of coke, but probably not enough to ruin the economy of several countries.

I'm Wearing A Rubber!

In fact, I'm wearing two of them. Unfortunately they're not the fun kind of rubbers and I'm not wearing them for nearly as fun of a purpose. I started a new job about 6 months ago. In this job I travel around my area all day visiting different offices. I have to wear a full on suit and dress shoes every day. Unfortunately I live in the Northeast where the atmosphere appears completely ignorant to my wishes in regards to climate. In short, what I'm saying is, it snows. Streets and parking lots are full of snow and slush and salt for about 4 straight months. I have a nice pair of leather shoes to go with my suits. The snow, slush, and salt just soak right through and ruin them if I don't protect them. Hence, the rubbers. Yeah, not the fun kind. What the hell has my life come to? Yes, they're those nice rubbers (galoshes) that look exactly like the dress shoes they cover and no one ever notices that I have them on, but c'mon! This is one of those things that as a kid I'd notice on adults and I'd say, "That is the dorkiest thing I've ever seen. I'm never going to wear anything so stupid." Just another bit of proof that we grow up to be exactly like our parents.

Tattoo Me?

I'm thinking of getting my second tattoo. Any suggestions? Do you think I could get away with a tramp stamp? A neck tattoo maybe? How about a contest where whoever has left me the most comments gets their name tattoed on my neck? Any suggestions will be considered and I'll let you know what I decide and if possible, put up a pic here.

I'm Hungry

At what age is it OK to order from Meals on Wheels?

I am Pro-Choice (It's not what you think)

As the political races are getting into high gear I thought I'd come out with one of my most important political statements. I AM PRO CHOICE. No, not in the political hot potato sense of the phrase. My personal, political and religious beliefs aren't fervent enough to hold up to public scrutiny. But I AM PRO CHOICE. Here is the choice that I want:

When I walk into a public restroom, I would like the opportunity to choose if I want to dry my hands with a paper towel, or if I want to stand there like a dope rubbing my hands together under the pathetically underpowered air dryer. Whose hands do these things actually dry? Don't we all just end up wiping our hands on our pants as we walk out anyway? If you actually want your hands dried by these machines you'd have to stand there long enough that anyone you came with would probably think you had escaped out of the bathroom window. If you actually use a hand dryer to full effect everytime you use a public restroom you'll probably waste hours of your life each year and in the long run waste a significant portion of your finite time on Earth rubbing your hands together under what amounts to nothing more than the same breeze you'd get if you just walked around waving your hands in the air. The air dryers are fine for anyone who wants to save trees, but I resent the places that have made the choice for you and don't provide any type of paper towels at all, forcing you to use the hand dryer, or worse yet, trying to dry your wet hands with toilet paper that will only tear and stick all over your hands.

When I become President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first...(you know the rest)

Merry Christmas To All and...

Happy Belated Hannukah to my Jewish friends. Thanks for sticking with me even though I haven't posted in a month. I've had stuff to say, but I've been really busy or tired, or both. You don't think I've got a good rant about Jamie Lynn Spears? Happy Holidays to all no matter how you choose to spend them. My first New Years resolution is to blog more in 2008.

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow...

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? I am, and it's pissing me off. I live in upstate New York. I was fine with things in general until about two days ago. Then winter arrived. A friend accused me of being a "grouch" for not enjoying this sudden turn of events. This person romanticized the winter weather, espousing the joys of making snow angels, frolicking in the snow and holding mittened hands with a loved one. That is exactly how they do it on T.V. isn't it? It does look fun in all those romantic comedies when the smitten couple builds a snowman together and then has the flirtatious snowball fight. Unfortunately, the winter the rest of us are stuck frolicking in is not in a warm studio where teamsters sprinkle dry, cottony snow on us from the rafters. The real life winter is damned cold. I'm pretty sure that if I'd ever hit one of my dates in the face with a snowball she would probably call the police on me and sex would definitely be out. At least on that date. Don't get me wrong, I may be a grouch about the cold, but I am not a Scrooge about the holidays. I love the holidays, except for.....

Unusual Things I'm Thankful For

Here it is, my annual list of unusual things I'm thankful for. Feel free to add some of your unusual thanks in your comments. I'd love to hear them.

1. Global warming. Before you and Al Gore leave a nasty comment, hear me out. Each year more people die from cold than from heat. If the globe is warmer, more people survive. Also with the polar ice caps melting we have more water available that, with a little effort and technology, can be diverted to drought stricken areas. If the globe is warmer, we in the North will be using less fossil fuels to heat our homes. The furor over global warming is just a media firestorm fad. I challenge Al Gore to a debate. Without global warming he would suddenly become irrelevant, and so he continues to stoke the fire.

2. Starbuck's I developed a Starbuck's jones this past year. And no, it's not all that expensive unless you're ordering something like a non-fat, half-caf, latte mochachino, double shot espresso. At Starbuck's you're paying for words. The more words in your order, the more it will cost. I just get a small coffee and I'm not broke yet.

3. Morning Insomnia. I have a problem. The first step is admitting it. I'm up by 5:30 every morning. I'm not sure what that is in metric or Canadian time, but it's damn early here. My brain just turns on and I'm up. Without this little problem I'd never get any writing done here or elsewhere. It's my only time of peace and quiet in the day.

4. My blogger friends. Despite all the bad publicity that MySpace and Facebook get, I've met nothing but nice people through this blog and the internet. Thank you for continuing to visit and responding to my inane thoughts.

HAVE A HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

Things To Do Before I Die

1. Learn to speak Spanish fluently.
2. Become a published author.
3. Learn to ride a unicycle.
4. Go sky diving.

What's on your list?

The People at the Gym

I belong to a gym. You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I do. My gym is part of a big, national chain. I think there must be some sort of law that was passed, undoubtedly by congress, that states that the more popular a gym is, the louder the music has to be. In fact, if you were to notice only the music and people on cell phones you'd think you were out at a club. I'll be damned if I can find someone to give my a beer though. That's why I fill my water bottle with beer before I go. There are several different people that go to a gym. I think that the smallest number belong to the group of normal people who go to the gym a few times a week just to stay in decent shape. That's the group I'm in. The next group are the what I call "The Bicep Bunch." (Just imagine the theme song, "The Bicep Bunch, the Bicep Bunch, that's the way we became the Bicep Bunch!") The Bicep Bunch has a uniform too. It consists of work boots, denim jeans and a black muscle shirt. They literally walk around the gym in groups of several guys in this identical outfit. I call them the Bicep Bunch because they're only interested in working out their upper body in hopes of impressing women. Not that impressing women is a bad goal. In fact I've dedicated my life to it. Then, there are the women at the gym. Some of them scare me. When women start doing things like wearing weight belts and bench pressing, doing pull-ups, and curls, I get a little scared about getting too close. I want no part of a pre-menstrual woman who has more muscle mass than me. That is not a safe combination. Then there are the "Three-weekers." I call them this because they probably won't use their membership for more than three weeks before they realize that exercise is hard work and they give up, never to be seen at the gym again. You can always spot one of the three-weekers because they are so clueless about exercise that they actually accept the complimentary session with the personal trainer so they can learn how to use the equipment. A group of gym members I hate are the locker room nudists. These are the people who are obviously way too comfortable with their bodies. For God's sake, put on a towel when you walk from the shower back to your locker! And do not, under any circumstances, talk to ME while you are naked. We're not that intimate! As is any other place in society these days, the gym is also full of cell phone people. I have no freakin' idea how they can even hear anyone on their cell phones over the din of the music. The only exercise these people are getting is exercising their mouths. I'm sure they can't do real exercise because they're so winded from talking. It's always a temptation to drop a big weight on these dopes.

Reading Is Fun

I just recently completed my first full-fledged attempt at a novel. If you've previously read and enjoyed my Golden Boys stories, you'll love this. I took the four characters from my Golden Boys stories and put them in a murder mystery plot, but with their same idiotic behavior. Does anyone know someone in the publishing industry or who is a literary agent? I have very little idea of how to get this thing from my hands to becoming a full-fledged on your bookstore shelves novel. Any leads you have would certainly be appreciated. Feel free to e-mail me with suggestions if you have any.

I Had A Dream...

A few days a ago I had a dream that I shaved off my goatee. Then yesterday someone said to me, "You ought to shave that off. You'd look ten years younger." Is the universe conspiring to tell me to shave off my goatee? Should I listen to it? Also, some of my long time blog friends might remember a post I did a year ago about vanity plates that was sparked by seeing a plate that said, "Dali Lama." Yesterday after I was told I should shave off my goatee I walked out of the office and into my parking lot, and what car was parked there? Yup. The Dali Lama car. Is it just me, or are those two coincidences happening that close together weird? Is the universe telling me something? Should I shave off my goatee?

"You're a Hottie"

So I was on my way to a dentist appointment. I got out of my car in the busy parking lot of a medical complex that contained several small buildings housing a variety of doctors offices. As I began to cross the lot a van slowed down and the drivers side window was descending. I assumed it was just someone stopping to ask what building a particular doctor was in. The van slowed as it approached me and I slowed my walk, preparing to give helpful directions because that's just the kind of good samaritan I am. The window rolled all the way down and I saw that the driver appeared to be a woman of about 50 maybe. I make eye contact, thinking I'm about to field a question for directions. She looks me straight in the eye and says, "You're a hottie." So I ask for her phone number and after my appointment we went to her house and made mad monkey love on the dining room floor. No! Are you kidding?!!? That was gross! She then drove off without another word. I'm not sure why, but I immediately felt queasy. I suppose this is how very young women feel when some creepy old guy hits on them. Although she is obviously an incredibly bright and perceptive woman, it still creeped me out. Normally, from someone younger I'd accept the compliment and it might put a smile on my face for the rest of the day. I definitely didn't smile as I walked away as quickly as I could. If she thought I was a hottie then though, she should have seen me after I got my teeth cleaned. Now we're talkin' hot! And no, there were not any psychiatric offices in that office complex.

GPS= Giant Pain in my asS

For my new job I do quite a bit of driving around, so I purchased a GPS device for my car. We've all see the commercials where the guy professes his love for his GPS before regaining his senses, realizing that it is just a mechanical device. That won't be my problem. I often do talk to my GPS as it's talking to me, but we're usually arguing. I even switched the voice to that of a British woman, hoping that the accent would make it seem like much less of a nag. It doesn't. Here are a few sample conversations between me and my GPS:

GPS: In two tenths of a mile turn right.............in one tenth of a mile turn right........in 200 feet turn right....
Phil: I know, I'm turning right!
GPS: Turn right
Phil: Shut up! I'm already turning. Leave me alone!

Or another example is when we disagree on directions. For instance yesterday I asked it directions to a specific restaurant and it wanted me to get on a toll road for something like a quarter mile.

GPS: Take ramp on left in 200 feet.
Phil: No. I'm not going to pay a toll just to go a half mile.
GPS: Take ramp on left
Phil: No. I'm not going to. I can see the restaurant from here.
GPS: As soon as possible make a U-turn.
Phil: No, I'm not going to go on the ramp. SHUT UP! I can see the restaurant.
GPS: Recalculating. Travel two tenths of a mile to destination on right.
Phil: See? I told you!

Perhaps my terse demeanor is why my GPS sometimes gives me wrong directions and possibly tries to get me killed. It often has no regard for my safety when it directs me through crime infested, gang run neighborhoods, or down streets that are closed for construction. I think it's out to get me. At some point I imagine myself pulling the thing off the dash and flinging it out onto the highway as I'm traveling at a very high rate of speed, laughing maniacally as it tumbles to it's tiny electronic death still babbling at me. If I'm ever stranded on a desert island I'm sure as hell not taking my GPS with me to keep me company. To quote the great philosopher, me, technology is the opiate of the asses.

More Desert Island

Yeah, I know this is a cop out, but who doesn't love to play desert island? Ok, here's the next one: Rest of your life you're stuck on a desert island with your favorite beverage and one movie. What movie do you choose and why? You can only pick one. No say, 'yeah, but I also considered this." Pick one without any qualifications.

I go with The Princess Bride. It's completely silly and funny and has a lot of those lines that are funny no matter how many times you hear them or how many times you and your friends do them back and forth with each other. If I'm stuck on a desert island I want to be able to laugh on a regular basis. Of course I'd be seriously pissed if my DVD player broke and I couldn't watch my one movie.

Green Kool-Aid

No, I'm not starting a cult. If I were stuck on a desert island and could only drink one beverage for the rest of my life, I think I would choose green Kool-Aid. Setting all health benefits aside green kool-aid may be my favorite beverage, with orange juice and Corona a close second and third. Ok, your turn. Desert island. One beverage for life, what do you choose?

Fate Tempted: Numero Dos

Ok, I'm doing it again. Flying all day. Wish me luck. Don't worry if I don't blog again today. I know I can't get wifi in the Philly airport.

I'm Alive!!!

Hey folks. My flight from home to Charlotte turned out to be the best flight I've ever had. There were first class openings, and I considered paying for the openings, but decided not to. They left the row for the exit door empty and as the flight took off the stewardess..errr...flight attendant asked me to sit in it and read the instructions for opening the door. I had and entire row to myself! It was better than first class. It was like having a king sized bed to myself. I reclined and stretched out. Put my stuff on the seats on either side of me. I was totally livin large. I didn't blog later because there was no wifi I could get in Charlotte and then when I got here in Cancun there is a ridiculously high charge for use of the internet. Also, Blogger is in Espanol here! Fortunately I know blogger well enough that I don't need to understand the tabs. For those of you that worried about my well being after the last post, thank you. I have another story about my roommate after I got here, but I'll blog that later. I've got to go to breakfast.

Fate? Meet Temptation

Some of my long time blog friends know my position on death. I'm not a fan. In fact, I don't really believe in it at all. At least for myself. I have long been of the belief that if an opportunity to be dead presents itself to me I will just flat out refuse to do it. I believe that by sheer will I just won't die regardless of disease, accident, or age. But now I have a bit of a quandry.

I recently started a job that requires me to fly places occasionally. I've rarely flown in my life, and now it appears I will be doing so at least a few times a year. Back to my beliefs about death. Like I said, I don't believe that I will die, but unfortunately I'm not able to be completely delusional in this regard. The flying is a problem because as immortal as I'd like to believe I am, I think that if I were to drop from 35,000 feet in the air I would hit the ground as hard as anyone else. Maybe a little harder, because after all, I'm Phil.

So, here I sit in the airport as I type this, preparing to board my flight. My goal is to blog at the next airport in about 3 hours and then upon my arrival at my final destination. (yes, the choice of the phrase 'final destination' was not a coincidence) If you see no further posts after this, then you and I will know that it's definitely not a good idea to tempt fate like this. Or at least not a good idea to blog about fate. I hope the Charlotte airport has wifi access and I hope Fate has a sense of humor...

Hi. My Name is Phil and...

I'm a cell phone person. They say the first step is admitting it. My long time blog friends who have read my ongoing series of rants against "cell phone people" will appreciate the irony here. For those of you new to the show, I have long railed against the idiocy of "cell phone people." Those inconsiderate morons who speak loudly and indiscretely into their cell phones no matter where they are. Those people who think they're so important they need the Bluetooth affixed to their head 24/7. Those people who have tendinitis in their thumbs from texting. The ring tone losers who are constantly asking you to listen to their new ring tone which they update every two days. All these people deserve their own special level in hell. That has been my position on cell phones in a nutshell.

Fast forward to now. I just started a new job. They issued me a cell phone which I must have on from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm every work day. So because of this, I broke down and bought a holster for my work phone so it didn't look like I have a tumor in my pocket, or something else. I will also have to drive around quite a bit for my new job, so I bought one of those ear pieces so I can talk on the phone while driving. So now, I spend every day walking around with two cell phones and a PDA on me and I have that stupid earpiece in whenever I'm in my car. I feel ridiculous. I don't think the astronauts have this much technology on them when they go for a spacewalk. Also because I drive around a lot I bought a GPS device for directions. I'm sure I'm getting some sort of tumors already from all the radio signals and beams of electricity criss-crossing my body. I love the new job, but I hate being a cell phone person.

Mental Dental Hygiene

Ok, because of my new job I had to spend the last two weeks of August staying in a hotel in Richmond, VA with a roommate. I lucked out. My roommate was a very nice guy. In fact, he was a great roommate. No bad habits except for snoring, but he couldn't control that. In fact he was a very neat, clean person. Not a slob at all even though we were living in a hotel room. After a couple days sharing a room with this guy I notice that a box of dental floss has fallen on the floor behind the toilet. It's not my dental floss, but I'm not sure if it's his, so I leave it there for him and the housekeeping staff to sort out. Also, who wants to touch something that's on the floor behind the toilet in a hotel?

A day passes and the floss is still laying there behind the toilet. Another day, still there. Another day and another day and still no one has picked up the dental floss. Don't worry, I'm not tempted to either. Finally after about five days I see that my roommate has picked up the dental floss and placed it among his other toiletries on the sink where it remained for the rest of our two weeks. Am I wrong, or is it completely disgusting to use floss from a box that has laid on the floor behind a toilet for several days? You might as well dip your floss in the urine filled toilet and use it as far as I'm concerned. Who here would have used it?

Who Let The Dogs Out?

So I get sent to Richmond, Virginia for a two week training to prepare me for my new job. I've been here since the 19th. This morning I walked out of my hotel room and right into the middle of biggest news story of the day. I went down to the second floor where we have breakfast and start our training at 8 a.m. As I get down there another employee says, "Did you hear the rumor that Michael Vick is staying here? It's probably just an urban myth." I agreed, although I'm in a fairly nice hotel only three blocks from the Richmond courthouse.

At 9:30 I during a break in training I went up to my room to get something. As I camme out of my room an older gentleman in a suit exited the elevator in front of me and opened the door of the room next to mine. As he did so I heard the voice of an African-American man before the door closed. I went downstairs only to return a few minutes later after the wheels in my head started to turn. As I returned three men in suits exited the room next to mine and headed towards the elevator and I overheard one say, "Court should take about an hour." After this I observe a hotel employee talking on a walkie-talkie, using the phrase "Room____ is a VIP room for today." Now the light bulb went on over my head! I went downstairs and went back to my training.

About two hours later we got another break and as I exited the conference room a steady stream of men with cameras and microphones began to stream past towards the conference room across the hall from mine. So I got into the line. It was the Michael Vick press conference. As I walked to the line filing into the press conference I passed George Thorogood, the singer, talking to one of my co-workers. He was as curious as the rest of us. In addition to the press, spectators began to file into the hotel lobby. Some had religious shirts encouraging Michael Vick to repent. A family with young children came in carrying signs saying "We Love you" A co-worker of mine began to almost shout at the children, "You love him? How can you say that? He hung dogs!"

So me, Michael Vick, George Thorogood, and hordes of media were all here today. Needless to say, I had to answer a lot of questions about my blog.

An Unusual Post From Me

This post is unusual because I don't really have anything to say, but I just felt like rambling. I may be posting more often (hey, this is the third time in a month). I recently started a great new job and I'm in Richmond, VA for two weeks of training right now. The new job has markedly improved my mood and that might result in a little more regular posting, but I don't know if I'll ever be back to how I was before I tailed off about 6 months ago. Oh sure, I'll still make fun of stuff, but I don't know if I'll put the time and effort into my posts that I used to. Anyway, I just want to thank all of you that still stop by even when I post infrequently. Your comments always make me laugh my ass off.

Keep Your Feet on the Ground

Ok, it's official. I'm tired of hearing about how the Space Shuttle has a nick in it and everyone's concerned that it will explode upon re-entry. Yes, of course I'm concerned for the safety of the astronauts up there, but...the stress on them and everyone else could be prevented.

Let's say you have a car that you drive to and from work every day. If there was a chance that every time a little stone nicked it on your way to work your car might explode on your way home, wouldn't you get a new car? Also, if the outside of your car was made of some material that was injured by foam or ice, wouldn't you decide to have your next car made of a much more sturdy material?

The bottom line is that NASA needs to make some new shuttles. Then again, why the hell do we even need to be in outerspace? What can we possibly learn up there that is of use here? Sure, it's kind of cool to go to the moon and the space station, but really, can anyone think of anything that is useful in our daily lives that has resulted from a trip to outerspace? Essentialy NASA is a bunch of guys who like cool gadgets and are probably sitting around their offices saying, "Man, can you believe the goverment keeps giving us money? Sure, we brought back some cool rocks and pictures, but I do that every time I go to the beach too. I can't believe they didn't shut us down years ago!"

The Clown Whisperer

Yesterday started out normally enough and then I saw the first clown. Yes, I said the first clown. There is no circus in town. There was no parade yesterday. But there he was, in front of the guitar store waiting for a ride. He sat on the bench and carefully arranged his clown suitcase and his other clown accoutrements in front of him as he waited. I became self-conscious that he might notice me staring even though I was watching him in my rear view mirror. He appeared to look in my direction, right at my rear view mirror and into my soul. A chill crept across my heart. I looked down for a moment, fearful that he was returning my gaze and I'd suddenly be mesmerized by his piercing stare. Then when I looked up again he was gone. It was so sudden that I wasn't certain he'd ever been there. There was no car pulling away. No trail of endless brightly colored handkerchiefs as he walked away. Just nothing. He was...gone.

Later in the day I was driving home from running some errands and as I stopped at a traffic light I looked at the car turning left, crossing the intersection in front of me. What I saw looking back at me was unbelieveable. Two clowns in a car. Yep, only two. But they were clowns in full makeup looking at me as they passed. "WTF," I thought. And then they were gone, just like the other one.

Why? Why are all these clowns showing up? What is the meaning? Why are they following me? As far as omens go, this can't be a good one. Randomly seeing three clowns in one day with no circus or parade going on? That is effing weird.

Speaking of seeing clowns, I'm going to see a couple tonight as I head to Syracuse for my annual get together with The Golden Boys.

Hillary Clinton Is In Town Today

Yes, that's right. If you're keeping score at home, that's the second Clinton sighting in my town in the past three weeks. I think she's got a thing for me, but it may be time for a restraining order. Too bad it's not Condoleeza Rice. Now there's a piece of political eye candy. Anyway, I'd like to give a big shout out to my friends at the F.B.I., Secret Service, and Homeland Security Dept. who I know are checking the internet and blogs for any possible mention of a threat to Hillary. Just so you guys know, I'm going to be in Penfield today and won't be at my regular work location. Feel free to stop by the house though, I left the A/C on for you. I didn't leave a key. I know you know how to get in.

Strange But True

I just read this from a reputable news source: The father of JonBenet Ramsey is dating the mother of Natalee Holloway. Yes, that's right. I'm not kidding for a change. Here is what my reaction sounds like in my head: "What?!!? Are you freakin' kidding me? I'm not sure why, but this seems incredibly wrong and twisted in some way that I can't define. What the hell is wrong with these two people? They're not even from the same neighborhood! How do they hook up? It's not like they ran into each other at the P.T.A. meeting. They had to go looking for each other. Did they find each other through E-harmony? Was personality variable number 29, "Was your child kidnapped or killed?" Is it just me, or does anyone, everyone else find this to be possibly the most bizarre thing maybe ever?

Janie's Got A Gun

Ok, it wasn't Janie, but it was a strange man who walked right through the front yard of my cottage carrying a rifle. Yup, calm as you please he walked right by my window with a gun while I was eating dinner. I thought he might be the guy from two cottages down, but I wasn't sure. He and his companion were headed that way. So of course I put down my fork (I should have kept it, at least I'd have had some kind of weapon) and did I do what any right thinking person with common sense would do? Did I call the police to report that there was a man with a gun walking around? No, of course not. If I did that I wouldn't be me! I put down my fork and walked right out my door to follow him and ask what he was doing walking around brandishing a weapon when I have children that play outside here.

So I caught up to him and confronted him with exactly that question. Needless to say, I felt naked without my fork.

For Those of You Keeping Score...

Former President Bill Clinton is in my town today, and you know what that means! Yup, the Secret Service and F.B.I. will again be checking in on their favorite blogger.

"Where have you been? What were you doing?"

In a recent comment someone posed this question to me. While I was almost completely gone for three months, what was I doing? The one fellow blogger who was kind enough to e-mail to ask about my whereabouts, (yes, my one eyebrow is raised at the rest of you) hoped that I had been kidnapped by pirates because “pirates are cool.” Were it so simple as being kidnapped by the Dread Pirate Roberts I’d certainly be much happier with the events of the past 4 months and their effect upon my psyche. In a recent comment another blogger wondered if I’d actually been undercover as a spy. The truth itself lies somewhere in between those two possibilities and a little to the left. I’ve wrestled with my conscience about whether to tell the tale and what consequences the telling might have. Consequences that might affect me and several others. Being a writer, or at least dreaming that I might someday be one, I can’t resist the urge to tell a story that I hardly believe myself. As they used to say in the introduction to the old Dragnet show, (which I only watched in syndication as a very young child because I’m definitely not old enough to have seen the first time around) the story you are about to hear is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. I will also blur some of the details a bit to protect, as they say, my own ass.

Cell Phone People Part VIII: The Ringtone People

As many of my longtime friends here know, cell phone people irritate me. Well, irritate might not be the right word. Inspire murderous rage perhaps? Fuel an anger that burns with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns? I’m not sure what the exact measurement of my annoyance with them might be, but it’s definitely not good. For those of you new to the program, I don’t hate everyone who uses a cell phone. Only those who use them as if they and their cell phone are Siamese twins that weren’t separated at birth.

During the hiatus when I was gone, I purchased a new cell phone solely to change carriers. My new phone however, is a huge upgrade over my old phone and has all sorts of bells and whistles. It wasn’t too expensive and it looked cool, which is my primary criteria for choosing a phone, or anything for that matter. It also has the option of storing roughly one billion different ringtones. Like I’ve maintained all along, I have a cell phone, but I’m not a cell phone person.

A subset of cell phone people is the ringtone people. These people love their ringtones and they always want you to know when they have a new one. “Hey, wanna hear my new ringtone?” Usually this question sends me running from the room desperate to save the 30 seconds of my life these dolts are trying to steal by making me listen to The Thong Song. The Ringtone People change their ringtone about once a week, so over the course of a year they could steal 26 minutes of your life by making you listen to their new ringtones. Oh and I just love their bikini babe or Justin Timberlake wallpaper.

I think the ringtone should be a personality quiz somewhere, and it probably is on one of those sites that supply quizzes for bloggers. The quiz should go like this:

1) Have you purchased more than two ringtones for your phone?
A) Yes
B) No

If you answered no, you have a life and your priorities are in order. If you answered yes, how could you possibly have time to take this quiz? Your carrier is adding new ringtones at this very minute and you’re missing them! Oh, and you’re a loser.

The ringtone people also have taken the time to assign a different ringtone to all 30 people saved in their phone. I sure as hell hope that when e-harmony is asking the questions that determine your 29 personality variables “Do you have more ringtones than brain cells?” is one of the questions. These people definitely need to be paired up with each other instead of letting them wander aimlessly asking the rest of us, “Wanna hear my new ringtone?” Then again, if you pair them up they might start to breed, and we definitely don’t want to see that happening.

I have to confess, I did purchase one ringtone for my new phone. It’s the theme song for Monday Night Football. It never fails to make me smile when I hear it. What’s your ringtone du jour?

It's India's Turn

Hey Canada, guess what? You get the week off. I'm going to make fun of India. Earlier this week an Indian court issued an arrest warrant for Richard Gere because he kissed Indian actress Shilpa Shetty at an AIDS Awareness event in Jaipur,India. The entire country was seriously outraged. They were burning Richard Gere effigies in the street over this! After several lawyers filed complaints in an Indian court a judge watched the videotape of the kiss, retired to his chambers alone for about 10 minutes, and then, appearing slightly sweaty and disheveled, returned to the court, demanded that he keep the copy of the tape and issued the order for Richard Gere's arrest. Apparently under Indian law they deemed Richard Gere's kiss of their actress "obscene." I saw the video. I don't even think there was tongue. Maybe they thought it was obscene that a 58 year old was kissing a pretty, young actress. I can see that, but then again, this is a country where marriages are still arranged.

I've got a few very good Indian friends, so I have nothing against the Indian people. I love their food, but maybe laws like this are why they moved to America, land of the free and home of kisssing Richard Gere. That's right, if I want to kiss Richard Gere right on the mouth in front of the whole world I'll do it and there isn't a court in the land that can stop me. And c'mon, he was burned in effigy. How cool is that? If I ever do anything that causes me to be burned in effigy I will be very happy. And I don't mean burned in effigy when an ex-girlfriend puts my picture in the garbage and sets it on fire. I want the full-on hanging in the public square, chanting crowds, riot police burning effigy. If I can do something that causes that, then I know I'll have really made something of my life. I think I may have to plan a vacation to India. Mother Theresa, here I come! I know she's dead, but I may kiss her on the mouth too. That should get me an awesome effigy.

Yoga Booty Ballet

Yes, it's a real fitness workout DVD. How can you not love the name? I laugh just reading, saying, or thinking the name. No jokes needed. Yoga Booty Ballet says it all. I'm not big into the performing arts. I've never attended an opera or ballet, but I think I definitely would not miss the Yoga Booty Ballet if it came to my city. In fact I think I might join the Yoga Booty Ballet.

I'll Be Back Soon

I'm still alive and I'm about two weeks away from reviving this blog if anyone is still stopping by to check my pulse. Hope you're all doing well. See you soon.

Borat's Got A Gun

That was the phrase whispered in my ear at the party I attended Saturday night. "Borat's got a gun." Sure enough, the birthday boy who resembled Borat was waving a gun around. The more horrifying part of the party was when I discovered that I'd accidentally eaten about 6 pieces of artichoke. It was in a dish called Artichokes French. They look like fried pieces of chicken and were in a lemony sauce. I'll eat anything breaded and fried. Artichokes and Borat with a gun. Fortunately neither ended up killing me.

Some Phil News

Yes, I'm still alive, but really busy. Until early May I may be posting inconsistently or recycling some classic posts. I'm sorry if that messes up anyone's vacation plans. By the way, I just bought a refrigerator yesterday that's easily big enough to put a body in if I remove the shelves. I'm just saying.

Brangelina is/are Moving!

First of all, would it be Brangelina IS moving or Brangelina ARE moving? Is a Brangelina a single entity or a pair of people? Secondly, why did I just click “add to dictionary” when my spell checker didn’t recognize Brangelina?

Yes, I couldn’t believe the headline when I read it. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie have moved to New Orleans. What’s the matter, did they run out of kids to adopt where they were living? Between them and Madonna invading countries and adopting children willy nilly I wouldn’t be surprised to answer my door tomorrow and find Brangelina waiting to take me into their custody. At the rate they’re going we’re all going to get a turn eventually. In 1970 pop culture artist Andy Warhol said, “In the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.” I’d like to make a similar prediction: In the future everyone will be adopted by Brangelina for 15 minutes.

As if the devastation of Hurricane Katrina hadn’t ravaged New Orleans enough, now the residents have to deal with the horde of pop culture paparazzi swooping down on New Orleans like a swarm of locusts. Not to mention every parents terrifying fear that Brangelina will pull up in a limo and adopt their child as he or she walks to school.

Cell Phone People: Part VII

For those of you who haven’t followed my rise to fame from the beginning, Cell Phone People is an ongoing series of posts much like The Guy Code of Conduct. As I have pointed out before, almost all of us who have evolved from the primordial ooze and learned to walk upright have learned to use tools. First, prehistoric man learned to use sticks and tree limbs as crude levers to move heavy objects. The discovery of fire and the invention of the wheel followed soon after. The cell phone is a tool of modern man. Some people use it appropriately as a tool while others use their cell phone as if the call button is the control for a morphine drip. It is these people upon whom I wish terrible things.

Last spring one of Saddam Hussein’s henchmen was blown up because the U.S. Army used GPS technology to track his cell phone signals and then aimed a missile at the exact location of his cell phone. I wonder if he was talking on it at the time or if it was in his pocket. Ouch! Then during 2005 there was the Cell Phone Bandit who robbed several banks as she walked up to a teller while talking on her cell phone. All of this backs up my premise that chronic cell phone user=evil.

Here is an excerpt from today of an Associated Press report out of Vellejo, California: “Firefighters arrived at the residential hotel Saturday night to find Picaso lying on the bathroom floor after a malfunctioning cell phone in his pants pocket set fire to his nylon and polyester clothes, Henke said.”

I’m not saying Picaso is evil, but he did have a cell phone on his person. Where’s my cell phone? In the glove compartment of my car. If I need it I’ll open it up and turn it on. Apparently if you carry them on you they just might decide to kill you all on their own. Or perhaps Picaso was hit by a tiny missile from the U.S. Army. There are two important lessons to be learned from this tragic situation: 1) Don’t carry your cell phone constantly, and 2) nylon and polyester clothes are a bad fashion statement in more ways than one.

“Technology is the opiate of the asses”- Phil, circa June 2006

The Table by the ATM

I hate the people at the table by the ATM. I have never been one of the people at the table by the ATM, but that is not why I hate them. I choose not to be one of the people at the table by the ATM. The people at the table by the ATM have a choice and for some inexplicable reason they choose to sit at the table by the ATM. I believe that the people at the table by the ATM are inconsiderate, ill-mannered, and quite possibly mentally defective. The possibility that they perhaps sustained a traumatic brain injury which significantly impairs their ability to use logic and reason is the only thing that keeps me from lashing out violently at the people at the table by the ATM. If, however, I ever discover that the people at the table by the ATM are of sound mind, then all bets are off.

What is wrong with sitting at the table by the ATM you ask? I’ll tell you: personal space. The table by the ATM does not allow for the standard three feet separation that is an accepted rule the world over. The table by the ATM is far too close to the ATM. It is wedged into a small space between the stairs and a hallway entrance. The people at the table by the ATM are either directly under your left elbow as you use the machine, allowing you to breath down the back of their neck and/or onto their food, or if they at least choose the opposite side of the table they are staring directly at the screen and keypad as you punch your code in. I generally am uncomfortable sitting this close to strangers unless our plane has gone down in the Andes Mountains and we’re huddling together to survive. Eventually I would eat these strangers if I had to, so being close to your food isn’t a bad idea in that situation. I don’t want them get away. I don’t want to eat the people at the table by the ATM. Why would I? I just got $10 out and there’s a cart serving mini-pizzas about 20 feet away.

I have never sat at the table by the ATM, but I do use the ATM in question quite frequently because it is the only one in my building. The ATM is located in an open area that includes a cart that sells coffee, bagels, sandwiches, and mini-pizzas. There are also many tables spread throughout the open atrium area. You would think that due to its location the table by the ATM would be the last one to be used. If you think that, you would be egregiously wrong. As if it is a magnet for the socially challenged the table by the ATM seems to attract people. Often people with very questionable hygienic skills. As I approach the ATM, observing the multitude of empty tables nearby there are always people at the table by the ATM. It takes all of my considerable personal willpower to resist screaming, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!!? WHY DO YOU WANT TO SIT SO FREAKING CLOSE TO THE ATM WHEN YOU’RE NOT EVEN USING IT?!!?” In my mind I imagine myself overturning their table as I scream this.

One day if I arrive at the ATM and there is no one at all at the table by the ATM and no one else is in the atrium area I will move the table by the ATM. That’s just how I roll. If you were curious, I used the phrase “table by the ATM” 18 times.

Oh Canada! I'm Lovin' It!

Yes, this is another in my ongoing series of posts professing my admiration for the great country I lovingly refer to as my friendly neighbor to the north. In fact, of all the countries that share a land border with the United States, Canada is definitely one of my top two favorites.

I am, however, writing this post to alert all of you to an outrageous situation that could possibly lead to an international conflict between our two peaceful countries. Yes, admittedly the blasphemous act has been perpetrated by an agent of the capitalistic United States corporate aristocracy. It is an act of such blatant prejudice against our poutine loving friends that I have been unable to sleep since discovering it.

It began yesterday when, on a rare occasion, I happened to visit that bastion of American culinary excellence, McDonald's. Upon arriving I was guided to the appropriate line by the maitre d. After receiving my delicious and healthy meal I glanced down at the receipt which had been placed face down on my tray by the pleasant and hickey laden serving wench. On the back was an advertisement inviting me to participate in an online survey for the chance to win lavish McDonald's prizes. Here I will quote you verbatim what I read that upset me so much: "Open only to legal residents of the U.S. and Canada (other than the Province of Quebec), 15 years of age and older. In order to win, a Canadian resident must answer a skill testing question." Yes, that's correct. If a Canadian wants to win a free Big Mac they need to answer a skill question while us regular Americans don't have to do anything but fill out the survey!

I took the survey giving my information as both an American and a Canadian (I used the University of Guelph's phone number), but couldn't find the skills question. What could McDonald's have against Canadians? And what possible question could they ask to determine if a Canadian is worthy of a coupon for a free Big Mac? I certainly hope that this horrific slight doesn't spark a war between the U.S. and Canada. Who knows what kind of atrocities of war those red-suited Mounties might commit against us. I imagine that their pent up fury over those uniforms would make them one hellacious fighting force. I wonder if they can sneak their horses throough customs at the border? Damn, first Iraq and now this. I think we'd better send Condoleeza Rice up there to make amends. Maybe she can convince Canadian McDonald's to give a free supersize to every Canuck to smooth things over.

The Guy Code of Conduct: Chapter 6: The Female Pop Quiz

In millions of every day situations men are being tested and graded as if we are still in school. The Female Pop Quiz can consist of one question, several questions, or a situation. The results of these spontaneous daily exams can make or break a young relationship, or just make your life difficult for a day, a week, or even more in a long term relationship or marriage. The trick is, if you pass the quiz you never know it and if you fail it you find out immediately. Sometimes men are smart enough to recognize when these pop quizzes have come up and at other times we are not. It is these time where potential disaster looms. Here for the are some of the most common Female Pop Quizzes and how to answer them correctly.

1. Does this make me look fat? This is the most common and stereotypical of the pop quiz questions and almost all men recognize it, but some still answer incorrectly. An answer of "No baby, that doesn't make you look fat. I love your curves," seems well intentioned and some men even accentuate the statement with a playful pat on the behind. This answer is a mistake. The inevitable answer from the woman will be, "What? I have curves?!!? So your saying I'm fat?" A safe answer would be, "Honey, nothing could ever make you look fat. You are the sexiest woman I've ever met. If anything that outfit makes you look too thin."

2. After a woman has cooked a wonderful meal from scratch the male impulse is to just dig in and enjoy. As men we think that the act of eating every scrap and then licking the plate clean is enough of an indication of our love of the food. That gentlemen is absolutely the wrong assumption. This situation is a Female Pop Quiz. If you are not yet married and a woman cooks you a meal, she is essentially testing you to see how you might possibly respond to your evening dinner every night for the rest of your lives. If you want anything long term with this woman you will not just dig and then finish with an appreciative belch. After asking if there is anything you can do to help, such as set the table, the appropriate response is to first comment on how delicious everything looks and smells. Then after your first bite fake a complete mouthgasm as if you had just eaten food blessed by the gods. Even if she just gave you three day old dry toast this is the proper response. A corollary to this rule is that if a woman has cooked not only for you, but for company, you must absolutely be the first person to compliment her cooking in front of everyone.

3. The "Comment on Other Women" pop quiz. This is always a complicated situation that requires some expert verbal maneuvering to extricate yourself from without pain. If your female companion spots another woman on television or when you're out in public and makes a comment on that woman you are immediately on the hot seat. If your gal knows and dislikes the other woman due to a personal conflict no matter how far in the distant past it is in your best interest to listen attentively to her complaint, and then agree, even if you've just realized that your gal pal is completely wrong in the situation. If the situation is on the looks or behavior of a stranger then you have a bit more leeway. If your companion comments upon another woman's looks or attire be very careful. This is a very dangerous trap. Needless to say though if it's about large fake boobs, we all hate them right? Practice saying it in front of the mirror with a straight face at least a few times a day until you've got it down pat. Now if your girlfriend, fiance', or wife makes a negative comment about a woman, it may be in your best interest to give a fairly ambiguous answer, or even an "oh, she doesn't seem that bad," response. If you come off as too catty yourself, or too prone to degrade another woman, even in a private conversation this will reflect badly on her perception of your respect for women.

Obviously this chapter contains more material, but if I give away all of it the delicate balance of male-female communication may be forever altered. Stay tuned for Chapter 7: What To Say about Mothers.

My New Years Resolutions: Karma Chameleon

I went back to my archives for the last week of December 2005 and reviewed the New Years' Resolutions I posted last year. I was successful on every single one. So, without further ado, here are some things you can count on happening in 2007:

1. I resolve not to make New Years resolutions. I had started a funny post of my resolutions with the paragraph above and some other stuff, but when I got up on New Years day karma told me not to write it or post it, so this is all I've got. I'll get back to you as soon as karma tells me it's OK. Don't worry, probably tomorrow or the next day.

2006: The Year In Review (aka My Left Thumb)

This is the week of every year that I hate to watch television, read magazines, or go online. There is not a single media outlet that can resist the year ending "Year That Was" piece in some format or other. Being no better, or worse than the media, I hereby present to you my Year in Review. Of course as with any year of our lives my year had it's ups and downs, but there was one very strange constant throughout 2006 for me. My left thumb. Due to a series of accidents throughout the year there wasn't a day that I wasn't reminded very specifically about my left thumb.

January 2006: I moved into my new house. While putting baseboards in the dining room I smahed my left thumb with a hammer, rendering the nail bruised and bloodied underneath for the next 4 months until that grew out. Rarely did a day go by for the next 4 months that someone didn't say, "What happened to your thumb?"

May 2006: I was building a shed shortly after the nail of my left thumb had finally begun to look normal again. I hit my left thumb with a hammer, again leaving a purple bruise under the nail. Yes, by now I know you are probably assuming I'm exceedingly clumsy with a hammer. I contend that isn't the case. Based on the number of nails I pounded during the past year it's amazing that I didn't hit my thumb more often.

July 2006: Playing catch with a baseball without wearing a baseball glove my left thumb is hit directly by a good, hard throw. As far as I can tell the thumb was broken. I don't know for sure because I never went to the doctor. At the time the big Golden Boys weekend was coming up and I didn't want some doctor ruining my golf game by putting a cast on the thumb. I still can't bend the thumb all the way anymore.

Oct. 2006: Putting a new floor and baseboards down in one room of my house I hit my left thumb with a hammer again. Just this week the mark from that is finally growing out as is the year of 2006.

I find it absolutely bizarre that just one part of my body absorbed so much abuse so consistently throughout the year. And so me, George Bush, and our thumbs say good-bye to 2006 with hope for a less painful 2007. Come back on Monday for my New Years Resolutions post.

He Said, He Said

My local newspaper has a column in the sports section titled, "My Turn at Bat." It's where anyone can send in their opinions on anything in the world of sports. Two weeks ago I sent something in that made the cut and was used in the My Turn at Bat column last week. It was all in good fun, or so I thought. The local soccer writer took issue with a joke I made about soccer and attacked me on his blog which is on the newspapers website. Needless to say, I was thrilled with the additional publicity. First I'll post what I wrote, then at the bottom I'll provide you with the link so you can see what he wrote about me.

My Top Ten Holiday Sports Wishes

10. An AARP membership for the New York Yankees. They're definitely getting older, but not necessarily better.
9. A pair of binoculars for the Pittsburgh Steelers. The Super Bowl champs need them to see the top of their division from where they are.
8. I wish that another desperate housewife would marry Sidney Crosby so that someone in America would pay attention to the NHL.
7. Another shot at the Tour De France for Floyd Landis. He doesn’t have enough testosterone to grow a decent goatee much less cheat at a bicycle race.
6. In an effort to reduce the number of violent incidents involving youth sports parents, I would like to see a law banning parents from coaching or attending their own children’s sporting events until the children are in college.
5. A successful fashion design career for the Williams sisters. Their outfits have looked better on the court than they have the past couple years.
4. I wish Congress would pass a law banning soccer in the United States. We’ve been told for 20 years that because the rest of the world likes soccer that we should. As our mothers’ all said, if our friend jumped off a bridge does that mean that we should do it too?
3. A happy and healthy retirement for Barry Bonds…as soon as possible.
2. A Hubble Space Telescope for Cowboys wide receiver Terrell Owens. With a view from outer space he might be able to see that he's not the center of the universe.
1. I would like to see the current BCS system of choosing a college football champ to continue indefinitely. If there were a playoff with a definitive winner every year our water cooler debates, talk radio shows and favorite sports columns would be empty. Long live the BCS!

Here is what he had to say: Link As you can see from the date on the page, he felt that bashing me was important enough to leave it up on his page for over a week. Here is the best part. In over a week, he only got one comment on his blog, mine.

Happy Holidays To All!

Whether you just finished Hannukah, are gathering with family for Christmas, or eating yourself silly in preparation for Ramadan later this week, everyone here at The Phil Factor would like to wish you and yours a happy and healthy holiday season

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JESUS

That title is what it says on a sign in my neighbors yard. First of all, it's wrong. His birthday isn't for two more days. Would it be bad karma to sneak over there and paint it over to read HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHIL?

6 Weird Things About Me

I was tagged by Jmai and I promised I'd do it, so here it is. 6 weird things about me. Thanks for tagging me Jmai. It's nice to be thought of.

1. I have never eaten a pickle and unless I'm offered an exorbitant amout of money I never will. I would be a great contestant on Survivor or Fear Factor as long as they didn't find out about my pickle problem. I'd eat goat intestines long before I'd consider a pickle. I also feel the same way about mustard.

2. Within the next week I will write a post about my left thumb.

3. I once spent several hours handcuffed to a penguin.

4. The older I get the less I think I know.

5. I can still do a perfect cartwheel and if no one is looking I ocasionally do one in the hallway at work.

6. I pride myself on the fact that as far as I know, I've still never heard a Hootie and the Blowfish song.

Happy Holidays From Gooby

Sad huh?

Stop It Already!

Do you know what I’m tired of? Mountain climbers. As a group I’m becoming more and more convinced that they are a bunch of egotistical, selfish jackasses. Yes, I know the country was gripped by the frantic search on Mt. Hood for the three lost climbers. That is exactly what my problem with mountain climbers is. Mountain climbing is a hobby right? No one makes their living climbing mountains right? Mountain climbing is an optional activity. But people do make their living rescuing mountain climbers, and sometimes the rescuers are risking their own lives to save an idiot who wasn’t smart enough to stay the hell off of a mountain in the middle of winter. If your hobby risks your own life, fine, enjoy yourself. If your screw up of an entirely optional activity could result in the death of others, then you need to either quit that activity, or leave a waiver form with someone at the bottom of the mountain absolving anyone of any responsibility for rescuing you when you screw it up. And why go in the winter? If I’m going to climb a mountain I’m waiting until it’s as warm as possible. There is absolutely no need to maximize the risk by going in the middle of winter.

Mt. Everest is the worst example of this. Over 50 people have died on Mt. Everest this year. Why? I just don’t see the thrill. It may be the highest mountain in the world, but it’s been climbed hundreds of times now. There is no longer any sort of exclusive club of people who have climbed Everest. The sherpas that guide expeditions go up and down that mountain daily. They might as well be herding people onto Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disney World. Virtually every mountain in the world has been climbed many, many times. Why go? The view? Is any view worth risking your life for? If you pick the wrong day to climb it just might be the last view you see. Of course I’m told that the view from heaven is spectacular, but that doesn’t mean I want to climb up there today.

I do not feel badly for the climbers who perish on their climbs. I do feel badly for the people who risk their lives and probably occasionally lose fingers and toes to frostbite while rescuing lost climbers. I also feel badly for the climbers families. One of the climbers family members said, "He died doing what he loved." Apparently he loved it more than his family because now they have to spend the holidays grieving for him because of his hobby. If you have a single person in this world related to you or who cares about you, why would you risk your life for just a nice view, leaving your family behind to suffer the waiting, worrying and loss? Climbers, quit being selfish. Take up ballroom dancing or something. At least there you'd have a chance to meet women.

Random Phil Stuff From an Interesting Weekend

I guess I got my wish in being named TIME Magazine's "Person of The Year." I don't think the picture does me justice though. I'm not kidding when I say that I think someone at TIME read my blog and came up with this idea instead of using YouTube.

I went to a party Friday night with several people of varying degrees of sexual orientation. Well, I didn't go with them, but found myself in their company at the party. They were a fun crowd. I also ate goose.

Something I wrote is in the sports section of my local paper today.

I coach a youth basketball team of 9 and 10 year olds. Last week after we had our first official game following a scrimmage the previous week, a parent e-mailed me to complain that her son wasn't passed the ball enough. In yesterdays game her son got a defensive rebound turned, shot, and made a basket...IN THE OTHER TEAMS BASKET!!! I was tempted to e-mail her and say, "That's why we don't pass to your son," but I didn't.

The city I live in is mentioned very specifically in the classic holiday movie "It's a Wonderful Life." Unfortunately I'm not mentioned in the movie, yet.

TIME Magazine's Person of the Year

Later this week Time Magazine will unveil their annual Person of the Year. Rumor has it that the two leading candidates are: 1) the crazy North Korean dictator with the shiny, new, nuclear bomb or 2) YouTube. While both were certainly noteworthy and newsworthy in 2006, let's face it, they're not me. For all my longtime blog friends this post certainly comes as no surprise to you. That's right, I am pushing my 11th hour candidacy for Time Magazine's Person of the Year. The obvious question that you're all asking yourself is, "Why does Phil think he should be Person of the Year?" Thanks, I'm glad you asked. Allow me to explain.

First of all, as much as I enjoy YouTube, it's not a person. I clearly am. Time Magazine purports to name The Person of the Year. If they name a thing as Person of The Year, then I plan to sue on behalf of the entire human race. If YouTube is eligible to be Person of the Year, then I want to be eligible for Motor Trend Magazine's Car of the Year Award as well as for the AKC Dog of the Year Award. If we're going to let things compete against humans then I plan on entering a remote control car in the next Olympic Marathon. (As a point of interest, thanks to Gooby, video of me from 15-20 years ago is on YouTube. And yes, the nudity was integral to the plot.)

That covers why I am more deserving of the award than YouTube, but why do I think I deserve Person of the Year more than a crazy dictator? Thanks, I'm glad you asked. I'm a mental health professional. I make my living examining people's moods and motivations. I may be a bit egocentric and attention seeking here on my blog, but that's generally harmless. We all know people who thrive on seeking negative attention from others. Due to their lack of self-esteem these people seek to make waves in any way possible. The worst possible thing you can do is to give them the much sought after attention in response to their stupid behavior. The crazy North Korean dictator with new nuclear capability and David Blaine are exactly these types of people and both should be ignored. If the Korean dictator is positively reinforced by getting a magazine cover he'll only get bolder. Just as we should do with David Blaine, the world should collectively shrug it's shoulders, yawn, and walk away. My self-aggrandizing behavior, however, is harmless and won't hurt anyone if you give me positive reinforcement. Despite all my nonsensical ramblings here, not once during the past year have I done anything that made the whole world nervous. I'm saving that for when I become President. In fact, I like to think that maybe, just maybe, by making fun of things, simplifying male-female communication and suggesting improvements for how the world should be run, my blog has made the world a little better place.