Tuesday, January 25, 2011

"7th Voyage of Sinbad"

One of my all time favorite movies. Right up there with "Casablanca"-here's looking at you, kid; "Gone With the Wind"-I don't know nothin' bout birthin' babies; "Jaws"-my husband was telling me your into sharks and we need a bigger boat; and "A Few Good Men"-you want the truth?

I'll leave "Citizen Kane" and the Fellini movies to someone else. My Aunt Mad humored me a lot as a kid and would haul me to the Twin Starlight Drive-In, so I could watch this Ray Harryhausen spectacular. Music by Bernard Herrmann.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

"Facebook"

Facebook is something else. I just hooked up with an old friend of mine, who I hadn't talked to in over 30 years. Our last conversation via the telephone went like this.

"Harry, how would you like to be sipping a vodka martini, shaken not stirred, on a deserted island hideaway that you own?"

"Well, uh, yes!" I said. "What do I need to do. Sign me up!" Having a deed to an island seemed like a good deal.

"Would you like to retire, Harry, at an early age and sit around making sand castles without a care in the world?"

"Well, uh, yes. Sign me up. What do I have to do?" I always had a penchant for the ocean-the waves cascading, the seagulls mulling, the nice bikini clad women strolling, and I could always make a mean castle complete with moats sans drawbridge. Pun unintended. "Tell me more!"

"You'll have servants. Preparing your meals, maintaining your tropical island venue, and catering to your every desire(s)."

"Well, uh, yeah." I loved James Bond and could see myself as the next Sean Connery. Playing baccarat in the casino-hope it's close to my island paradise, but then if I'm rich who cares.

"Dix-neuf for zee dealer, moi, vingt for monsieur. You win again."

"So. sign me up. I'm game, old friend. What do I have to do?"

"Amway. Yes, Amway, brother! You sign up. Start selling the product. Get others excited. Have them sign up. Before you know it, it's a domino effect. You'll make thousands, dare I say it, millions. What do you say?"

I said no. And that's the last I heard from my friend, until a coppola weeks ago when I typed in his name on Facebook. A picture of him from the 70's appeared, and I knew I hit paydirt.


Thursday, January 06, 2011

"The Heatles"

I'm liking Lebron James more and more each day. He's now calling his team, "The Heatles!" Because they sell out every venue they play.

Saturday, January 01, 2011

"This One Bears Repeating?" ( Dear Cat )

Dear Cat: How is your new job? Seems I recall your last emplyer fired your ass. Didn't you work for those forkers a long time? Didn't you introduce a recipe-was it carrot souffle???-to the masses and received zero remuneration for your efforts? What the fork is wrong with that picture? Signed: Makes you want to join the ACLU, eh?

Dear ACLU: A lot of queries so let's begin with numero uno.

1) My new job is great. I love the new work, the new atmosphere, and most of my new team members, who have slowly adjusted to my eccentric sense-of-humour. Well, some of them, anyway. I don't have to taste the food all day like at the old digs. No more slurping turnip greens and blackeye peas every coppola hours while adding #'s to the old cholesterol count. No more concerns on whether Billy put the right amount of flour in the carrot souffle, [ segue, eh? ] or if Excellious weighed the sugar before adding it to the tea. Most of the stuff we use is heat and serve; or open a bag and voila!

2) Yes, I toiled and slaved for more years than I care to remember. I worked at H.W. [ acronym for Hell Whole ] which had a sterling reputation as the baddest of the bad. Rowdy guests out the kazoo who never quit gliding down the [ serving ] line from the moment we opened, til the millivanillisecond we terminated our day's work.

3) Yes, I received nada, zip, nil when it came to the fluffy product who some pronounced as carrot shooflay. [ not intended as a bigot slur as caucasians sometimes used the same vernacular. Also see his'n for more details. ]

4) There's a lot wrong with that picture, but in the long run [ apologies to the "Eagles" ] it was for the best. Thanks for the query, v.c.

Dear Cat: I read your column every chance I get. One of your recent forays-don't you refer to them as "forays into the infantile?"-revealed your boss to be a dickhead. I'm sorry to hear that, but, Shirley, the situation will become a reservoir of material. Have you thought of penning a book entitled "You may be a dickhead if...?" Along the lines of Jeff Foxworthy, eh? Signed: No Penis Envy Here

Dear Penis Envy: The book would write itself. But will change the title to: "You are a dickhead if:"

10) You drive 55 mph or less in the left hand lane of any highway, bi-way, or interstate.

9) You have to scrounge in your purse or pocket for a penny or correct change when purchasing an item(s) while others are waiting patiently behind your dickheadness.

8) You proudly exclaim while in the midst of others: I don't eat pork; I hate 2nd hand smoke; I'm a vegan; or my child is an honor student at Dickhead Elementary!

7) You stop on a dime on a busy, crowded concourse at any metropolitan airport.

6) You work for a company for 30 years or more and are terminated. "I'll be back." Apologies to Arnold!

5) You work for Nextell information, ergo 411, and you can't give me the correct phone number I' calling you for in the first place. Do you get paid by the call? Or what?

4) If you believe I can talk to 3-4 people at one time about 3-4 different subjects.

3) If you ever ordered fries without salt at any fast food joint. Same goes for ordering a burger sans pickle.

2) If you ever told the cafeteria attendant to put more food on your plate. And vice-versa. If you are a food service technician who proudly exclaims: "That's a serving!"

1) If you are yours truly's boss, and you don't treat him with dignity and respect.

Thanks for the query! v.c.

Well, this concludes tonite's edition of "Dear Cat!"

Until next time, v.c.

P.S. There will be no videos tonite. None of the 111 wussiest tunes of all time. Nada, zip, nil.