Why? Bleeping why?

Saw a fellow shuffling along Park Street the other day and unabashedly talking to himself. You know what he was saying? He was standing in front of the newspaper and saying: “Why doesn’t the (BLEEP) Sun Journal clock tell me the time and temperature anymore? What the (BLEEP) is going on?” So I walked over and stood next to him, looking up at the black, dead face of that sign and wondering the same thing. What the (BLEEP,) people?

O’ sole mia

Yet another person found she was unable to reach me because she kept trying to write or call my dark half, Mia LaFlamme. Twice in one week, how reassuring. Not that this threatens my manhood, mind you. I’m sure this onset of male boobage and the sudden thirst for gossip is merely a coincidence. Now if you’ll pardon me, I’ve got to go shave my legs.

Phantom note

It was left on my desk, scrawled in block letters and with two different Sharpies. That’s an important clue, I think. The note says this: “Whose desk is this? I can’t tell. It’s so generic. Get some personality, for chrissakes.” Very hurtful. Now I’ve got to go out and pick up some lamps, a few throw pillows, maybe put up some track lighting. To Bed, Bath & Beyond!

Drew Peterson

The dude was finally sentenced, bringing to a close this ugly chapter that included needless death, untold unhappiness and me watching a dreadful Lifetime movie about the sad saga. I wrote a letter to the judge asking him to tack on an extra year or two for that. A Lifetime movie, for chrissakes!

I could just cry

It occurs to me that Talk of the Town is just oozing with estrogen this week. I apologize for that. But, hey! It’s not like I’m in here talking about my cats or something uber feminine like that. (See page B-3) I’ve got to watch more ESPN and drink more Jim Beam. Right after I finish this delightful chamomile tea.

Snow blow

Another storm coming and here I am out of column space. Since I can’t offer up the usual rant, would you please spend half your morning swearing out loud and throwing stuff? It would help if you could go outside and scream at the snow, too. My apologies to your wife. And kids and neighbors. Welcome to my world.