Self Deprecation Will Set You Free

It might seem a little creatively conservative or plain stuffy of me to wish that shoe designers could be forced to keep the names of the colors they use for their shoes within the bounds of the 64 crayon Crayola box (the one with the sharpener in the back, woo!).

What the hell color is “Bambi/Wasabi” or “Bleach/Mayo/Earth” huh?

“Bleach/Mayo/Earth” makes me no longer hungry, and I’m sure that appetite suppressant wasn’t on the list of features for this pair of shoes.

At least “Bambi/Wasabi” sounds edible.

Just in case you want to have the healthier side when you go out to eat at the BBQ Place:

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Through some form of self flagellation I find myself inexplicably drawn towards the radio stations on the odd side of the tracks.  Most moderately sized cities have at least one of these stations where, on apparently random unplanned time-slots, one can listen to 20 minutes of a recording from an underpass.  Sometimes you’re lucky enough on these stations to catch something that will some day be big and new, even though it was new the first time you heard it.   Other times it sounds like you’re listening to an off tune rendition of Handel’s Messiah recorded by three guys named Barth playing the tune on kazoos while inside a hyperbaric chamber.

Today’s lesson?

Tap dance routines do not translate well on radio.

My workplace is having a Christmas lunch, of sorts, for the employees. We were recently informed, well after catering had been settled, that our Orthodox Jew owner does not want there to be any pork products involved (or something to that effect).

Being Jew-ish myself I still find this ridiculous. The lunch is for the employees, the owner won’t be there, and if I recall correctly pork in any of its various incarnations has been quite the traditional Christmas culinary standard. Baked Ham, Glazed Ham, Baked Glazed Ham, Carnitas, Carnie Wilson, Pork Rinds, Pork Soda, Pulled Pork, Stretched Pork, Mildly Massaged Pork, and who could forget Spam? These should be there. We should be having full servings of pork with a side of pork, and pork napkins.

But the boss? “Merry Christmas, eat a fucking latke.”

“Bag of Antlers”
Usage denotes a woman who’s body has so little muscular/fatty tissue mass that her skeletal structure is easily visible through her skin-like covering.

Warning, attempting to find an example picture by search through images.google.com will only result in pictures of actual bags. Some of them will have real antlers in them.