* Well, THIS is the most disturbing fireworks commercial ever.
* I think we can stop with the Michael Jackson stuff now.
* Well, one more Jackson thing before we pull the plug: EternalMoonwalk.com is worth a gander.
* Okay, one LAST Jackson item: MJ wanted to clone himself. That's why he kept cutting off chunks of his face and putting them in jars of water.
* DreamWorks is going to make a movie based on the View-Master. Remember the View-Master? Red binocular-lookin' thing with round discs. Move an orange lever and the image changes. Essentially a more organized kaleidoscope. They're making a movie about that. We live in an age where people are making movies about common household objects. Something tells me I won't be first in line to see "Spoon: The Motion Picture."
* If you are the laziest moron on the planet, you will be delighted to know that you can now buy pre-boiled eggs. Yes, pre-boiled eggs - for those of you too stupid to figure out how to boil water.
* Hacker: "Send me naked pictures of yourself or I won't give you back control of your MySpace account."
Teen girl: "No."
Hacker: "Alright. I'll settle for pictures of your bare feet."
* The protest song is a dying art form, but I'm kinda digging the tune behind this anti-Olympic video. (They coulda come up with a better nickname for Daley, though.)
* Rich women give birth to more sons, poor women give birth to more daughters. Since the New Economy™ has everyone poor, expect an end to male births.
* If I woke up to find my car coated in barbecue sauce, I would cry tears of joy. And I would start licking the hood.
* Wanted: Witch. Must live in cave, cackle, do things witches do. Must not be allergic to cats. Salary: $80,334/year. Wait. What???
* Ladies, are you thinking about a career in porn? Here's what you need to know. Also, I'm willing to help with your demo reel.
* Last night, I ate at Carmine's. Nothing particularly great about it - standard Italian fare at Viagra Triangle prices. But what was noteworthy (and terrifying) was my first-ever run-in with a restroom attendant.
When I go to the bathroom, I don't want to slick my hair back with someone else's comb and lather on all sorts of lotions and unguents. I want to urinate, wash my hands and get the hell out of there.
After washing my hands, I went to use the paper towel dispenser, which is one of those enervating motion-sensor contraptions, and it wouldn't work. So I'm frantically waving my wet hands in front of this thing while the "attendant" is thrusting paper towels at me. "Sir! Sir!" he kept shouting.
("No!" I'm thinking. "I don't want to accept your towels and feel guilted into giving you a dollar just because I needed to urinate!")
So rather than accept his paper towels or keep listening to him shout "Sir" while I try to get the dispenser to work, I just muttered, "I'm fine," and ran out the door. "Fight or flight" should never enter into a trip to the bathroom. But it did. I am traumatized.
* I have never wanted to be a barstool so badly. Props to our crosstown rival on this one.
* And finally, local comedy genius Pat O'Brien will audition for "Saturday Night Live" tomorrow. Pat is far too inventive for the sweltering cesspool SNL has become. However... if he gets hired, that show's cool quotient will shoot through the roof. Chicagoishometosomeamazingperformers. I invite you to check them out before they bolt for bigger paychecks and less creative freedom. (Go get 'em, Pat.)