Glam, Glam, Glamorous!!!

artist_fergie.jpg G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S: Fergie really knows how to break it down to the fundamentals doesn’t she? She’s most certainly getting back to her humble roots and the days when “she had a Mustang” with her latest and greatest trip to the spelling bee. I don’t buy it, and I never will… (I download it for free, but that’s beside the point.)

I’ll admit that her songs are catchy, but what else is she bringing to the table? I’ll tell you what she’s bringing… she’s bringing a whole lot of nonsense. Every time I hear one of her songs I find myself hung up on trying to figure out what the hell she just said. For instance, when she put the “boys on rock rock” in Fergilicious, I had no idea what she was talking about. I assumed that she must be so smokin’ hot and addictive that she likened herself to crack and that crack is sold in rocks, so putting the “boys on rock rock” must mean that they are addicted to her lady humps or something and that they are in need of a fix. Maybe? I dunno and frankly, I don’t care because I’m not being put on “rock rock” by a slightly more attractive female version of Carrot Top with blonde hair. Think about it. In her latest installment, Glamorous, she goes on and on about “flossy flossy.” This one took a little more interpretive effort. With the help of my favorite cunning linguist, we deciphered the code and settled on something quite simple. It probably means something along the lines of flaunting your riches. F and L lend themselves to FLAUNT and OSSY lends itself to GLOSSY which makes me think of lip gloss or something shiny like diamonds. Combining the two, you get FLOSSY.

In the end, I like this nonsense. It’s like solving the Jumble in the daily newspaper or piecing together a crime scene. It’s a challenge, and it’s fun. If she keeps this up, Levar Burton better start worrying about his job security over there at Reading Rainbow.


Super Maximum Cuteness Overload!!!

The creatures you are about to see are totally cute.  Prepare yourself to feel good on the inside.  Disclaimer: The order in which they have been presented in no way favors one type of cuteness over another.

Cute Knut!!! (Cutest)


Otters Holding Hands!!!


(watch until the very end for maximum cuteness exposure)

Baby Tiger Cub!!!


Which furball was your favorite?

Oh, it looks like I’m in 16-E, and I’ll be damned if I’m not using both armrests… Bitch!


After I consulted my boarding pass in the gate area of SJC, I had the feeling that something ill-fated was about to happen. Upon arrival at my designated seat assignment, my worst nightmare was confirmed. Yep, I was sandwiched between a fat guy and his pre-teen. Billy, we’ll call him, had the window while his well fed father rode the aisle, his seat, and a little bit of mine. Slightly annoyed, but still coming down from the high of realizing that I was about to move to California, I decided to make the best of a bad situation….

Being stuck in the middle is no cup of tea. Anyone can attest to this, especially if you are of the taller variety and require the use of legs/knees akimbo to sit with low dosages of comfort. At any rate, the real question is… Who gets the middle armrests? Is it first come, first serve? Fuck that. Does seniority rule? Oh, you forgot your Union card, how sad? Should the larger individual get them? I think not. The point I’m trying to make is that the man or woman in the middle of a 3-seat configuration gets dibs. The window seat has its scenic advantages and the aisle has lavatory privileges as well as quick access to the EXIT row in case of an emergency. On the contrary, the middle seat has zip, zilch, nada. That is unless it is universally understood that the armrests are his. I guess the only other advantage of being in the middle is that you have your choice of who to lean on when taking a nap. However, this advantage is negated as the window or aisle seat occupants may both choose to lean on you simultaneously.

Another thing I’ve noticed recently is that old people and grossly overweight people appear to be ordering an inordinate amount of free beverages from the flight attendants. The old people probably feel cheated by not being given FREE snacks along with their fizzy sodas, coffees, and V8. And the overweight people feel that their caloric intake is being cheated. I feel cheated by that too, but I don’t make up for it by ordering a decaf coffee with sugar, an orange juice, a cup of water, and a diet pepsi, uh… can I just get the can?… Ridiculous! All this drinking just creates problems for Aisle and Middle Management because more often than not Granny with the pea sized bladder is rolling deep by the window and has a hard time holding it.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to fly. The thing that keeps me going is the hope that one day I will get the chance to sit next to a smokin’ hottie who isn’t sitting across the aisle from her boyfriend. Hasn’t happened in the 12 years since I started caring about that sort of thing, but any day now, I can just feel it.

So if you find yourself in the middle seat of a 3-seat configuration, feel free to prop those bony joints up and out and take advantage of a bad situation. If you find yourself on either side of the middle seat, have some love and respect for your fellow flight brother. You never know when you’ll be STUCK IN THE MIDDLE. And remember… What goes around comes around… – J.T.

I’m moving and so is my blog…

Recently, I got a new job and will be relocating to San Jose, CA. To commemorate this occasion electronically, I will be moving my blog from Blogger ( to WordPress (you already know this address). If you’re interested in the theories of Moderatilism and its origins, I suggest you take a look at the old site.