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I want to be a rock god.
Jun. 24th, 2007 10:03 pmWatching Gene Simmons do laundry and make a grilled cheese sandwich is not as exciting as A&E would like it to be. It's kind of like watching my dad do laundry. Complete with the ten minutes of staring at the dials to make sure that everything is "flight ready."
His son, however. I could watch that kid put on makeup and ostentatious costume jewelry all day.
Elsewhere on cable, I've been watching at least three hours of Dirty Jobs and, I have to say: Mike Rowe? I think I could be dirtier. I'm just saying. Call me. I'll send brochures.
Whence did all this boob tube commentary originate? I went to the doctor this morning because of a sore throat -- which seemed very much like the sore throat I had about a month ago -- only to find out that it was exactly like the sore throat I had about a month ago. Only worse. And requiring more costly antibiotics. So I came home, more run down about the cost of medication than the cultures setting up communities and putting on plays in my throat, and decided that I should spend the rest of the day wallowing in syndicated self pity. So! It's six hours of The Discovery Channel with a long-tongued demonic chaser.
'Pretty much a typical Sunday.
[ETA:]
From a commercial for life insurance:
Woman 1: "You have life insurance?"
Woman 2" "Sure. Honey, it costs just as much to bury a woman as it does to bury a man."
Not true. Burying a man requires a bigger bag of cement.
[ETA 2:]
I don't really buy Pierce Brosnan as a seismologist.
His son, however. I could watch that kid put on makeup and ostentatious costume jewelry all day.
Elsewhere on cable, I've been watching at least three hours of Dirty Jobs and, I have to say: Mike Rowe? I think I could be dirtier. I'm just saying. Call me. I'll send brochures.
Whence did all this boob tube commentary originate? I went to the doctor this morning because of a sore throat -- which seemed very much like the sore throat I had about a month ago -- only to find out that it was exactly like the sore throat I had about a month ago. Only worse. And requiring more costly antibiotics. So I came home, more run down about the cost of medication than the cultures setting up communities and putting on plays in my throat, and decided that I should spend the rest of the day wallowing in syndicated self pity. So! It's six hours of The Discovery Channel with a long-tongued demonic chaser.
'Pretty much a typical Sunday.
[ETA:]
From a commercial for life insurance:
Woman 1: "You have life insurance?"
Woman 2" "Sure. Honey, it costs just as much to bury a woman as it does to bury a man."
Not true. Burying a man requires a bigger bag of cement.
[ETA 2:]
I don't really buy Pierce Brosnan as a seismologist.
