Sing Out Louise

So, before I get myself all situated to watch President Obama take over, and not a moment too soon, I thought I'd do a bit of ranting, raving, storytelling; just a few things to get off my chest and out my mouth. Here we go..........................

We're sitting in the kitchen this morning, watching the snow fall, and it's so pretty, so peaceful. I'm reminded of when I lived in California and I would drive into the Sierras to visit my parents, and it would snow at their house--we have a little more than an inch, they would get a lot more than that....like ten to twelve feet or more. It's so quiet and serene, and we have these Cardinals that flock to a couple of birdfeeders that we put up; their brilliant red feathers against the snow fall is just breathtaking; I'm feeling all relaxed and then he says it,
Look at the water freeze up on the edge of the table. It's making popsicles.
What?
On the edge. Popsicles.
You mean icicles.
Whatever.
Luuuuuuuuuuuuuucy!
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Carlos likes to consider himself Mr. Gadget, although he calls all his electronic toys by a more scientific name: jiggy-mah-giggy. As in: Have you seen my jiggy-mah-giggy? Then I have to decipher exactly what toy he needs.
Now, I am not a cell phone person; I don't like them; I don't need one. I'm, as I've said before, old school. You wanna talk? Call my house. If I don't answer, hmmmmm, what to do what to do. Call back! Sheesh!
But when we first came to Smallville, Carlos decided to get a new phone for him and one for me--in case, he says, you're out driving around country-town--his word for Smallville--and get lost or something. So I took a cell phone and put it in my car and have used it only a few times. It is good for emergencies; and I do use it when I travel so I can call home without those pesky long distance charges. But I am not a cell phone person; it isn't attached to my head 24/7.
Anyway. Carlos loves the jiggy-mah-giggy, and he realized his phone has 'Voice Recognition' so he decided to set it up so he can talk to it, and tell it who to call. This morning he's trying to call his boss and see if they are working or not, since the blizzard hit last night and dumped almost an inch of snow. He's holding the phone up and saying his boss's name. No response. He says it louder. Warlow. Warlow.
I say, Maybe you should try saying his real name. Wardlaw. Maybe that will work.
Wardlow. Wardlow.
Law. Not low.
Wardlaw. Still no response. I ask to try it, and he hands me the phone. I hit a button, scroll down, find Wardlaw, hit a button and hand him the phone.
Done. It's called Finger Recognition.
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Oprah and her husband Gayle King--I stole that from La Griffin--are trying my last nerve.
First up: Oprah. The other day I'm watching her show, I don't know why, I'm a glutton for punishment. She's doing some sort of round table with her husband Gayle, some blond chick who's sort of funny, and my boyfriend Mark Consuelos, who, oddly enough, is married to my girlfriend Kelly Ripa. Awkward!
Anyway, they're talking about Barack. Barack this Barack that. It sounded like a herd, or a covey, or a pride, or something of parrots. And then Oprah tells us that it shows how much we identify with Obama because we feel so comfortable calling him by his first name and we don't usually do that.
Hello Oprah? This is reality calling. Remember Bill, as in Clinton, Ronnie, as in Reagan, Jimmy as in Carter, Gerry as in Ford, Tricky Dick as in Nixon? Honest Abe? We've called a lot of presidents by their first name, honey. Except the last one......George Dumbass Bush.
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Now for Gayle Something-or-other: Oprah's husband Gayle has been doing some talking for Oprah, because we all know Oprah hates to talk about herself.........faint.......I'm up! I'm okay. Where was I? Oh yeah, Gayle Winfrey, or whatever her name is, because she'd be Who? without Oprah.

Gayle is talking about Oprah and Holocaust survivor Herman Rosenblat who wrote a book about finding his true love in a concentration Camp and now it's revealed to be a James Frey--which is another way of saying big fat book of lies.

So Gayle Winfrey......Who?.... says, "I was very disappointed because when the story first broke, the big headline was `Oprah Duped Again." I called Oprah and I said, `I'm so tired of you being the whipping boy for this hoax because he didn't just dupe you — he duped a lot of people.'"

No, Gayle, honey, the Oprah show duped us, because they didn't bother to check him out after being James Freyed--see, that's how it works. If the O people had checked then we wouldn't have been duped. Get it? The O's should do their job! Gawd!

Quit trying to protect Oprah. Seriously. Haven't you got better things to do, whomever you are?
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A show called True Beauty. it's like a Top Model-ly kind of show, but they also look to see who's beautiful--and they all think they're beautiful--and who's beautiful on the inside. Every week there are all kinds model-ly tests and inner beauty kinds of tests. And the two who fail at the tests are taken to a place called the Hall Of Beauty, which looks like an airport somewhere, only it's lined with big pictures of the so-called beautiful people. There, the two lowest beauties are asked why they should stay and it becomes almost Miss America like.....I should stay because I know I'm beautiful, more beautiful than anyone else,and I have a lot to prove blah blah blah....where's my gun so I can go all Elvis on the TV?

They pick the ugliest person to kick off, and send the pretty one back to the house. Then they tell the ugly one about 'The Secret.' That they are also looking for inner beauty and they show them video of Ugly acting ugly. You know, they don't pick up litter; they didn't donate to someone collecting money on the street; they're just bitches. You know, ugly stuff.

Then the Ugly One has to leave and do their Exit Interview, where, like W, they try to tell us that they're nice, that they do have Inner Beauty, that they did respond in a timely manner to Hurricane Katrina.

The kicker? The last shot of the show they have a cleaning crew come by and take down the latest Ugly castoff portrait, and throw it in the trash!

True.
Beauty.

Check your local listings under Trainwreck!!
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In South Korea, to promote his latest movie, where he's basically playing himself, except in this one he has an eye-patch--Quick! Someone call the academy, this is brilliant acting. He's. Wearing. An. Eye. Patch--Tom Cruise said: "I've always wanted to kill Hitler. As a child, I used to wonder why someone didn't stand up and kill him."
As a child I wondered where babies come from, and how does the Tooth Fairy slip a quarter under my pillow and take my tooth without waking me up, and what will I be when I grow up, a fireman, a doctor, a homosexual, or an actor who wears an eye patch.
Tom Cruise wondered about killing someone.
Precious.