Threesome Fun

Props go out to television network TV Land for their "Three's Company" marathon over the weekend. More than 48 hours of threesome fun definitely brightened my rainy days. I had forgotten how much I loved the antics of Mr. Furley and Larry. Although I watched this show in reruns as a youngster, viewing it as an adult brought about many questions, such as:

1. Why would two women in their 20's (if not their 30's) want to share a bedroom and sleep in a twin bed?
2. Did people really pretend in the years 1977 -1984 that women never had sex in their bedroom?
3. Did Janet go to college? (We know Jack was in the Navy and then went to cooking school.)
4. Can three people really share a bathroom ALL the time?
5. Why didn't the gang ever get drunk at the Regal Beagle? They always went, but there was no drunkenness.
6. How old was this gang really supposed to be? They seem older than 27.
7. Where was the TV? Their living room had no TV, and that seems sad.
8. Why didn't we ever see them go to the beach? They lived in southern Cali, but we only saw the gang in very few locations.

Elle Meets the Next President!

The South is a weird place -- and yes, Richmond is really the South. A few drinks after a friend's wedding turned into quite a political romp as my gang met up with suprise hotel guest, future presidential candidate Mark Warner. He was a very nice fellow decked out in jeans and a polo shirt. He gets my non-Hillary vote.

But our brush with Virginia political fame wasn't the most exciting event at the Jefferson Hotel on Saturday evening. The Virginia Republican Party was having their annual gala dinner at the same time Mark Warner's presidential support group was having a weekend meeting. Unfortunately, the historic hotel's rotunda area did not turn into a ECW wrestling arena with the Dems table-slamming and chair-bashing some old southern, drunk Republicans.

America's Secret Club

America's favorite TV show has a secret fan club. There are thousands of people who rush home every Tuesday night to watch "American Idol," yet their family, friends and coworkers have no idea what they are doing between 8 and 9pm. "I need to go do my laundry" and "I need to feed my goldfish" are some excuses that are floated around 7:55pm on Tuesdays. Haven't you noticed the people who dash away from the water cooler as soon as the Katharine's knee-humping is mentioned?

This secret fan club exists because I know them. I know they they hide amongst us. Yet, it isn't until after several drinks that their club membership is revealed when they opine about the gray-haired man shaking his moneymaker.

Why are people afraid to admit they like the cutting comments from Simon? Why do they hide the fact that they can't live without seeing Paula's nightly live TV insaity? Don't these people realize that there are few of us who can resist the utter cheese that brings America so much joy?

Next question for next time...Why are there "American Idol" haters out there? How can anyone hate something so simple and wholesome as a singing show?

Don't Mess With Burritos

This is where I draw the line. Obviously the US faces some serious immigration issues, but damnit, don't mess with burritos! Next to the quesadilla, the burrito may be the world's perfect food (quesadillas are a little better because they are primarily queso). The warm, thick flour tortilla is but a blank palate for an endless array of tasty latin flavors. America's flavor-challenged Anglo-Saxon background could never create such beautiful dish. Perfectly folded in the one of the world's best bread products, the burrito is worthy of saving for a future of well-fed Americans.

So, take away the taquitos. Eliminate the egg rolls. Stamp out schnitzel. Kick out the kim-chi. But please, battle for the wonderous burrito!

Smokin' Tinis

My co-blogger and I were both in America's most boring city, St. Louis, this month. While Bruiser hit up the International Bowling Hall of Fame, I sought the Arch city's most secret treat -- the smoking martini. A self-defined cocktail expert, I have not seen a lovely pink smoking pomegranate martini in my many cocktailing escapades around the country. So, while St. Louis may have little to offer in terms of unique culture (outside of bowling, of course), the town does have the only smoking martini I've ever seen. Thank you oh wonderous dry ice...and I hope other places take a cue and make our martinis a little more frisky. [Note to readers: The cocktail smoked more when I first got it. I was just slow on the photographing. Blame it on the 'tinis I guess.]

Language learning made fun!

Those 8:00 AM foreign language classes in college would have been much more fun if we used texts like the one described in this blog entry. I'm sure any Japanese who studied from this book would blend right in in "da hood".

So, thank you, Randall C. Miller, Jr. You are a valuable asset to the field of cross-cultural communication. And you wear that do-rag well.

Yay Tori!

As one of 90210's biggest fans, I must give a brief shout-out to the new Tori Spelling show "So NoTorious." Full of wacky pop culture references (including famous episodes of 90210), Tori Spelling takes direct aim on her own life and makes fun of herself and her family. It's legitimately sassy, giggle-worthy and fun, something most other TV shows should consider as important ingredients. And, Tori's hair and outfits are pretty normal and attractive, something that can't be said of Donna Martin.

But this show is more than laughs. "So NoTorious" not only redeems Tori Spelling from a Wikipedia entry noting that she is a washed-up actress, but also redeems VH1 from showing hours and hours of crap everyday. VH1 bores cable subscribers with celebrity gossip shows that have no gossip and additional seasons of the "Surreal Life," a show I'm convinced no one watches (and I know a lot of people who watch a lot of crap). Is there a more boring channel than VH1, other than TNT showing continous reruns of "Law and Order"?

Love and Hate at Wal-Mart

I have a love-hate relationship with Wal-Mart. I hate how they force retailers to package things how they want it, censor fine rap music, put small businesses in the toilet, treat their fine employees and lack high-end bottled water. On the other hand, a Wal-Mart Supercenter (especially the fine Supercenter in Martinsburg, WV where they even have seltzer - a rare find for Wal-Mart) is really the only place in America where there is everything that you need. Beer, prescription drugs, guns, somewhat trendy clothes made of crappy fabric in China, $2.50 DVDs, and all things camoflauge...its all under one roof.

I was reminded of my love-hate feelings this morning when I read a story of a guy who lives in a Wal-Mart for a few days. This real-life story is even better than the crappy Natalie Portman flick where she gives birth in a Wal-Mart (how that didn't ruin her career, I just don't know).

What's in a name?

For those of us who don't live on the Internet plotting ways to keep Chicken Little around a little longer on American Idol, I thought I should let you know about the latest craze.

"Snakes on a Plane" looks to be the multiplex hit of the summer. Even without a trailer or substantial official website yet, this movie has some serious buzz. So much buzz that NPR ran a story on it today. To really appreciate how sick people are for this otherwise probably crappy movie, take a look at this arguably obsessive fan site -- Snakes on a Blog.

Again, kudos to The Houseguests for having clued me into this pop culture phenom.

And if you have a lot of free time, watch Ultimate Showdown again to see (and finally understand why) Sam Jackson gets the smackdown by a few pythons during the second chorus.

My Target 'tis of thee...

Talk about shock and awe.

I was appalled to learn last week that President Bush’s former domestic policy advisor, Claude Allen, got busted in a sloppy attempt to defraud my very favorite Montgomery County, MD Target store. But according to WeeklyRadioAddress.com, there might be a valid explanation for Mr. Allen's seemingly anti-American behavior.

Last week’s episode was pretty damn funny, too.

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale...

If you have ~20 minutes to spare, Act One of this episode of This American Life is worth a listen. These kids sound like a lot of fun. But I feel sorry for the ducks...

Who needs cable, when entertainment like this is free...

This needs no commentary. Just watch it. And remember to turn on the subtitles.

Almost as funny as this.

Props go to The Houseguests for introducing me to these. And curse them for me now having both these tunes stuck in my head!

An gallon of deliciousness in every drop...

To commemorate a loyal ITSC member’s visit to the land of plastic food and dirty underwear vending machines, I’d like to introduce you all to a little site called Engrish.com. It will happy laugh fun time for your pleasure life. Clap clap.

Name This Car!

Naming cars is almost as popular as naming houseplants. Everyone is doing it, especially chicks. Since I'm not a big "car namer," my mom has always named my cars for me. In my younger years, I had Beluga (a lovely aqua-tinted Toyota MR2.I was the coolest chick in high school). Now, I pop around the city in Topper (a friendly blue VW Cabrio).

Anyway, I have a friend who takes the naming of her car very seriously. A car's name must show off its personality, sound pleasant and not be utterly ludicrous. It's essentially like naming a child. This same friend currently is pondering the name of her new-to-her, green VW Jetta. She has a few names in mind, but could use some inspiration. What says green Jetta to you? Hopefully, this picture will arouse you to dream up a fabulous name and then respond below.

Let the games begin!

Crunches with Condi

Or "Sweatin' with the Vulcan". Or "Gettin' Ripped with Rice". So many potential names for this piece...

According to Reuters, my least favorite NBC4 newscaster, Barbara Harrison, will shock the Washington metro area with some very important news this week -- the intricacies of Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice's workout regimen. Fire up those TiVos! Or not.

What next? Will Donald Rumsfeld co-host a movie review of "Syriana" with entertainment reporter extraordinaire Arch Campbell? Or maybe Alberto Gonzalez will guest host an edition of "It's Academic" with Mac McGarry. (Editor's note: I was shocked to find that there is a Wikipedia site for "It's Academic". People have too much free time.)

Curry and Rice

I submit the following for your viewing pleasure.

Biodata? Who writes this stuff? These guys, I guess.

Fair trade?

I ain't talkin' NAFTA, folks.

No, I'm referring to a recent deal between media conglomerates Walt Disney Co. and NBC Universal that sent "Monday Night Football" announcer Al Michaels packing to NBC in exchange for the rights to Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. Oswald the what? Exactly.

Oh, the indignity!

Washingtonians Talk Funny

I love Washingtonians (and former Washingtonians). I just asked my co-blogger what he's been up to since he's been quiet as of late, and this is his reponse: You know...the usual. Slacking off. Fighting the war on terror. Watching CSPAN. Memorizing the State of the Union. You wouldn't hear that response from just anyone. I'm very amused.

RPS - Not Just a Kids Game Anymore

Everyone's favorite kids game is sweeping bars across the nation -- Rock Paper Scissors. On Wednesday night at my favorite DC bar (The Rooster), I had the pleasure of competing in the newly formed USA Rock Paper Scissors League (USARPS). Open to the masses, and sponsored by my least favorite brand of water (Bud Light), slightly drunken people are encouraged to pull out their hands and go head-to-head with fellow barmates in hopes of winning a trip to the national tournament in my new favorite city (Las Vegas). While I only came in third, I was awarded a requisite rad RPS hat and watched fellow drinking pal Peter win the night. Next up: a trip across town to watch Peter compete to be the DC RPS winner. If he wins, off to Vegas and television fame he goes! Did I mention that A&E has signed on to telecast the USARPS League finals?

DDR and WV

I love West Virginia, not just because of the lovely mountains and availability of moonshine, but because the state has started a new program to tackle obesity in kids. As one of the "largest" states in America, the kids often have weight problems, likely stemming from never learning that "fried" doesn't mean "good for you." So, the state is reaching out to kids and instituting everyone's second fave video game, Dance Dance Revolution, as part of gym class in schools! Seriously. I'm not lying. Read the reports here and here. What's next? Karaoke Revolution becomes music class?