It's a chaotic, funny scene when young kids organize a ballgame. ...
Because of CES we will soon have access to a device that will weigh your Precious Little Angel and auto-fire the results to Twitter and Facebook, saving you the trouble of weighing your child on some vintage hand-cranked lead-painted off-the-grid scale from Service Merchandise in 1983 and using a whole separate app to bore everyone to tears manually.
SOUTH NERDLINGTON, U.S.A. — Having just returned from a Train Show — here, I can prove it, my shirt still smells like your grandfather's spare room, particularly if you ever lived in upstate New York — I can report that Train Shows are basically the GREATEST PLACES EVER, as long as you fall within a very specific age demographic, which is younger than 10 and/or older than 92.
Would you rather find yourself swimming in the ocean with a shark that is a hybrid of two other sharks, or a crab that has been named after American acting treasure David Hasselhoff? And, no, you can't select "both," no matter how badly you've currently and understandably paralyzed by the urge to do so.
White Castle is considering expanding its current roster of menu offerings (Gruel, Gruel On Bun, Gruel On Bun Feat. Chili, etc.) to include beer and/or wine. Now, first of all, why this is needed is a mystery. White Castle, of course, is a brand that needs no improvement, no upgrading, no bridge to the 21st century.
The 7-year-old and I have been watching a lot of "MythBusters" lately. Which is obviously a fantastic idea when dealing with a second-grade spongeperson who absorbs information like a freakishly absorbent paper towel, and if that information contains explosions it becomes less an entertaining diversion and more an instinctual need.
I've come to find the relentless repetition of Christmas songs as part of a tradition and its oft-weighty schmaltz as part of commonly accepted holiday cheer. Except for one song. Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" is the single worst song ever written by anyone, or anything, ever.
There are things that are OK, and there are things that are Not OK, and there are things that are Super Not OK, and there are things that are So Not OK That They Make You Slap Your Face And Run To Your Momma, and that is what brings us to the headline "Two Families Find Live Snakes Hiding In Christmas Trees."
The good news: The world will officially not end as a result of the disastrous tsunami of semi-coherent pepperoni-mouthed idiocy that would have defined the Herman Cain presidency! The bad news: It will probably end as a result of one of the following:
1. Octopi that walk among us, or …
2. Giant Air Jordan-sized insects that eat carrots and look like they could punch people in the face.
We never cut down our own Christmas trees when I was a kid, mostly because it turned out that they sold objects very similar to Christmas trees at the Target in Marion, Ind. — and get this: You could hardly tell the difference! Well, there were a few giveaways: Instead of dropping crisp needles all over the carpet, the fake ones appeared majestic and invincible for what was sometimes months (taking down the Christmas tree is super-boring), and instead of having to be cut down they could be disassembled like Legos and returned to their spot in the attic.
Last week a Washington Post poll revealed that the United States Congress currently enjoys a nationwide approval rating of 9 percent. That is 9 percent, as in one integer, as in Very Close To Zero, as in if you asked "Do you approve of the job Congress is doing?" to a group of zinfandel-sipping monkeys with typewriters in a warehouse in Des Moines, they would all say "Heavens to Betsy no Dear God no not at all are you NUTS?," because monkeys are actually pretty smart.
So I had this AMAZING idea to be a person who sculpts things out of cheese for a living.
Oh, my God, you guys, the best thing just happened: my Mac finally broke for good! This, I don't need to tell you, is fantastic news if you are a Mac aficionado (pronounced "Dorkus McGrew") and Vrabel (pronounced "cheap"). Because the regular replacement of even sleek sexy Apple objects, whose very existence demands expensive upgrades at regular intervals, does not come easy to Vrabels.
If you have ever been a parent and/or subjected to one on Facebook, you know that child-rearing is filled with people doing strange and terrible things, such as affixing leashes to their children in theme parks, motoring to a Walmart at 10:45 p.m. on a Tuesday to purchase Harry Potter costume components or posting six-minute videos of sled rides on the Internet, and trust me when I say I have only done two of those things so I CAN CLAIM MORAL SUPERIORITY HA HA HA oh my God why aren't more people liking this picture of my son's Harry Potter costume.
This year, as it usually does, my costume came down to two excellent options: Sexy Optimus Prime (what? I totally have the legs for it) and Ron Paul, which I've already got a jump on because I'm also an unelectable nutbar who is annoying when he talks.
We have been talking a lot in the house lately about ghosts, because it seems to be the time of year for it and our house contains a 7-year-old boy, and 7 has been proven to the be the most Awesome Age for Ghost Stories.
Before the hairy crazy ants came, everything was going pretty well: Ohio State was losing, the AL East was being proficiently escorted out of the playoffs, I dropped a 98-point monster on my friend Matt in Words With Friends ("QUAILS" — holla!) Michele Bachmann's candidacy was fading into that permafrost netherworld and the only people still paying attention were lunatic nonagenarians from Iowa.
The grassroots protests spilling across the streets of New York against the excesses of Wall Street are raging into their second week and showing no signs of slowing. At press time, the protests involved an attempted march across the Brooklyn Bridge that culminated with the late-night arrest of hundreds and the promise of more civil unrest to come, yet I am going to write about a dude who is too fat to sit at White Castle, because the Internet is very humongous and plenty of people are talking about Wall Street, but who is standing up for White Castle in its hour of need? THIS MOTIVATED SLOVAK, THAT'S WHO.
I think if we can agree on anything, it's that none of us have ever had to worry about satellite parts raining on us from space.
In this column, Jeff battles an automated checkout machine at the grocery store. Who will win? Hint: the machine. No, not Jeff - he is not a humor-column-writing robot. We assure you he is human.
