Who is the REAL cute Beatle?

Paul McCartney was always known as "the cute Beatle," and while he's certainly not an ugly guy, I don't think he's aged as well as a lot of people would've hoped. I've made a surprising observation over the last few years: Ringo Starr wound up being the best-looking Beatle! I realize George Harrison and John Lennon have made their way to the big concert stage in the sky, but but before their deaths, they were not looking so hot.

Seriously, how has this happened? Ringo was obviously not a looker back in the Beatles' heyday. I've compiled photos of the Fab Four in their later years here. Am I alone in my thinking on this one?

The Poop-Scootin' Boogie

Hello pumpkins. I've missed you. It's been a little while since I've blogged. My lack of blogging was actually a feeble ploy to see who would start harassing me to blog, and also to see how long it would take. I'm totally manipulative that way.

Just kidding! I was just not inspired to write anything new lately. I was recently blessed, however, with an insane situation with a neighbor, and you all will be benefiting from these shenanigans.

But, before I get into that, I must point something out, if you haven't noticed it. I refrain from using curse words in my blog (although I think I might have written H-E-double-hockey sticks a few times. Shhhhhh.) So, why don't I write like a truck-stop waitress talks? There are a few reasons. I know some former, current, and possibly future employers read it (as well as my mother). Also, it's a challenge to try to be funny without swearing. Let's be honest here, the judicious use of an F-bomb every now and then really helps to get your point across, and can definitely add humor to a situation. But even though I frequently find it funny when others pepper a conversation with a lot of four-letter words, I also think it's a short-cut on the way to Funny Town. And finally, as the late, great ODB once said, "Wu Tang is for the children." I feel the same way about my blog.

I'm telling you all of this because it's going to be a monumental task to not swear during this blog post. I'm going to have to get creative here, people, and practice a lot of breathing exercises. Giddy up.

So, as mentioned, this situation involves a neighbor. I have no fear of her discovering this blog post because she is 82 years old. But she doesn't look a day over 79. Just kidding, she is actually quite spry for an old broad. We'll call her Bea. She goes to Curves three times a week, runs her own business, drives competently (as far as I know), and has an...er...active romantic life with her octogenarian boyfriend. Ugh. Bea overshares sometimes, too. I've repressed most of the details of the boyfriend stories, so no need to worry about me relaying those to you. The mind has an incredible ability to protect itself.

Bea's also quite sweet, and I'm often tasked to help her do things like put on a necklace, fix her TV when she's mistakenly pressed a wrong button on the remote, or hook up her answering machine. I'm more than happy to help with any and all of these kinds of requests. My generosity has its limits, however.

Last week, I walked out onto my back patio to get my mail. (Yes, my mail comes to the back of the house. Don't ask). There, standing in the middle of my patio is Bea. My yard is enclosed by a six-foot privacy fence, but we are friends with the neighbors on both sides, and they pass back and forth frequently. So it was not entirely unusual to see her standing there, but I was surprised to see a pink leash in her hand with a white fluff ball at the other end of it. Bea had gotten a dog! This was not just any dog...this was a Coton De Tulear with a pink hair elastic hoisting its bangs up into a Pebbles Flintstone-style 'do. Bea proceeds to introduce me to...wait for it...Diva. She has taken ownership of the five-year-old dog from a friend. My radar immediately goes up. I know what's coming. Diva is in my yard because she is visiting her new toilet. Sigh.

Pittsburgh is a hilly place, and yards are rarely flat. I'm lucky enough to have one of the more level ones. Bea, however, has a few concrete steps to traverse up to get into her yard. She also has a neighbor on the other side of her, with which she is mortal enemies (long boring story). Using my yard as Diva's personal dumping ground enables Bea to both avoid the steps and the prying eyes of her arch rival.

I give Bea the benefit of the doubt for the moment, however, and refrain from asking why she's in my yard with Diva. (For the record, Diva seems like a sweet dog. I should also note at this juncture that I am not a dog owner at the moment, and have been enjoying a doodie-free yard since I had to put my yellow Lab down last year. RIP Eddie.)

Bea and I exchange niceties about the dog, and go on about our day. Late the next evening, I spot her tippy-toeing around in my yard again with Diva. She was sporting a black velour zip-up robe, bed head, and no make-up. I head outside to see what's up. Bea tells me she's happy to see me, and asks if I mind if Diva does her business in my backyard. She chalks it up to the fact that I have a fenced-in yard (she does not), and the dog can roam free here. I make some non-committal grunts as she rambles on about picking up after the dog. As we are chatting, Diva heads out to the far corner of my yard and proceeds to drop a deuce while twirling around and around, so there are several landmines rather than one civilized pile. Bea looks at me, slightly chagrined, and says, "The one time I forget to get a bag!" Suuuurrrrrre. She heads back to her house for a grocery bag, while Diva continues her pooping pirouette. The dog was clearly not having an entirely satisfying potty break.

Bea marches to the back of my yard with a flashlight and a Giant Eagle bag, but quickly turns on her heel and tells me it's too dark to see the doodie, and she'll report back for hazmat duty in the morning times. All the while, Diva remains engaged in her awkward poop dance throughout my backyard. Bea heads back to join me on my patio and we resume our chat. Diva joins us within seconds, and proceeds to SCOOT ON HER BUTT across my patio, six inches from my flip-flop clad feet. I'm trying to think of a couth way to say this, but I think that train left the station long ago. Let's just say that the journey Diva's furry little butt took across my patio left a significant...er...skidmark. Ugh.

Bea looks as mortifed as the woman can, and tells me she'll get some water. I tell her not to bother, and I head for the garden hose. I'm sure my patio was due for a good washdown anyway. After thanking me profusely and telling she's lucky to have such a good neighbor, Bea heads back home with Diva in tow. But not before I advise her to take a look at Diva's rear end as soon as she gets inside. No doubt that dog needed some assistance that could only be provided by opposable thumbs and a lot of wet paper towels.

I'm left stunned, unsure of how I'm how I'm going to get myself out of this situation. Perhaps I'll be calling Doodie Deeds in the near future.

This whole situation makes me think of this scene from "Billy Madison."

Why yes, I am ready for some football, thanks for asking.

To commemorate the commencement of Pittsburgh Steelers preseason football today (squeeeee!), I am posting some Steelers-related photos that I've been saving for just the right moment!

US Air clearly knows what time it is. I took this photo of the Steelers-themed airplane in Charlotte, NC in June, from the seat of my plane.

I snapped this photo of the "Terrible Truck" at a red light near the Robinson Town Centre. I have no ideas what the owners of this truck do for a living, but they obviously bring it.

James Harrison isn't afraid of his shadow, James Harrison's shadow is afraid of him!

Whenever I'm having a tough moment at work, I simply look to my James Harrison bobblehead doll on my desk, and ask myself, "What would James Harrison do?" It would probably look something like this:

Facebook Status of the Day

There's nothing quite as funny as politics. Keep on rockin' in the free world.

Facebook Status of the Day:

• Alright, I easily won the health care debate tonight. Now I'm going to reward myself by looking at pictures of Vanessa Hudgens naked. I heard she's famous, but I really don't know. Either way, Barack Obama is our president, and I'm damn proud!

Runners Up:

• Actual sound-bite heard at a recent town hall meeting on health-care reform: “Keep your government hands out of my Medicare.”

• CI wants all his friends and relatives who are getting downsized, cut back, screwed down, kicked out and otherwise bedeviled by these hard times to band together with me in a live/work commune out on the land someplace. We shall live by our labors and reclaim our humanity. But there will be no TV. Now then, anybody got a couple hundred acres they aren't using?

Facebook Status of the Day

Today's post would more accurately described as "Facebook Status of the Past Several Days," but that would just look clunky, wouldn't it? The primary issue was that not enough people were funny in a single day to make it worthwhile. I'm thinking of you, dear reader, when I compile these. We all want these posts to be funny, no? So, vaguely amusing or mildly witty aren't going to cut it with me.

Facebook Status of the Day:

• Last time I went to Italy a lady threw a baby at me. While I tried to catch the baby, a little boy grabbed my wallet, arghhh!! SO if any body throws you a baby, just swat it to the ground!! Swat!!"

Runners Up:

• CG realized this morning that the dietitian assigned to Bob has the last name "Bacon." This should go well.

• BR wonders what it means when a trip to Somerset County yields an arranged Amish wedding and an indecent proposal from a one-legged man, with a cage full of birds, on a red scooter.

• MP blames my parents for my pain in the ass kids, because they said years ago, "I hope you have kids just like you."

• JC just taped a Nerf dart to her son's face for a microphone so he can pretend to be a Jonas Brother.

Thanks to Keri, Julie, Beth, and Janis for sending suggestions!

Facebook Status of the Day

So, I come to find out today that a few people who read my blog aren't on Facebook. Gasp! Who are these aliens, and what do they want from me? But seriously, they didn't quite get the concept of the "Facebook Status of the Day" blog posts. They thought the sentiments expressed within those posts were mine, and wondered why I didn't like "Entourage." Cute, right? Sooo, for the uninitiated, let's recap: The Facebook Status of the Day blog post recognizes the funny status updates of my friends (or friends of friends, as I occasionally get reader contributions emailed to me) from that day. To paraphrase our favorite news outlets: All opinions expressed in "Facebook Status of the Day" are solely the respective Facebookers' opinions and do not (necessarily) reflect the opinions of the author of this blog.

Now that we've dispensed with the formalities, let's move on to the funny stuff. Today was actually a HOT status day. Well played, friends. I had to really work to narrow down the field.

Facebook Status of the Day:

• So I watched "Dog the Bounty Hunter" last night. At the end of the show they said email them TIPS. I emailed this...I couldn't resist!! "Here’s a tip, I was watching your show for the first time, and after 2 glasses of water I realized your hair was making me thirsty. Damn. It’s called conditioner. Seriously."

Runners Up:

• I would totally fight a nun for an eggplant sandwich right now.

• RP wonders why another doctor would send a patient to me to be evaluated for headaches, considering I am a GYNECOLOGIST?!?! I don't care if they are "hormonal," what would you like me to do?
  Comment: I know a number of people I would consider sending to a proctologist to help dislodge their heads.

• HF thinks the phrase "Daddy, I'm going to fill this glass all the way up with milk, so I can be strong for tomorrow," actually means "as soon as you walk away, I am going to pour a pint of milk all over the kitchen."

Doodie Deeds

This doesn't exactly showcase top-shelf photography skills, but I was in a hurry! I pulled into a spot in the Wal-Mart parking lot (where all the classy business goes down), and found this outstanding bumper sticker staring my in the face. I knew I had to take a picture of it, but the owners of the truck happened to get back to their vehicle just as I arrived. I had to stall, wait till they got in the truck, then I snapped a quick picture and ran away. Hence the reason you'll find the tip of my lovely left index finger in the shot. I could have cropped it out, but I kept it as-is to maintain the integrity of my guerrilla blog journalism.

Of course, for the remainder of the day, I was singing AC/DC's "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap," with "Doodie" replacing "Dirty." Argh. Now it's back in my head again.

Facebook Status of the Day

I've been a bit winded from my huge photo post from Saturday, so I took off a few days to recoup. Also, people weren't very funny. Thanks for making it easy on me, friends. I am happy, however, that the funny returned with the start of the work week.

Facebook Status of the Day:

• Facebook just asked me if i'd like to become a fan of "Entourage." I just asked Facebook if it'd like to go Eff itself.

Runners Up:

• Random sudden urges for the day: corn on the cob and wishing I had never heard the word "birther"

• Obviously I'm not balla enough for my three year old, because he asked where my in-dash DVD player is :(

My Strange Photos

I like taking pictures of weird things I see when I'm out and about. Or, for my Canadian friends, oot and aboot. I'm totally bilingual.

Since there is hardly a human left without a cell phone...and we don't leave home without them...and nearly all cell phones now have cameras...we are all just a few clicks away from capturing the world around us at any given moment! So that's what I've been doing for the past few months. My son has been a big motivator of the project. Many of the photos you are about to see have been taken at his request when we are walking around the neighborhood. Ahem. I live in a nice neighborhood. Really. Don't judge.

This may be the oldest One-Way sign still standing. Note that there is a "modern" one across the street. I love that they haven't taken this one down.

Socks on a sidewalk. That pretty much sums this one up, but it's interesting to note that this was in front of a restaurant and an insurance agency. There are no homes or laundromats on this block.

Open umbrella high in a tree. This was actually taken on the same block on the same day as the socks. Perhaps a strong wind came along, knocked someone right out of his socks, and launched his umbrella into the branches.

Nothing says "classy" like a bottle of cheap berry-flavored booze in your front yard.

Not often seen in its natural habitat, the rare greenus flip-flopus can camouflage itself to protect it from predators. This is evolution at its finest.

Maybe I just don't get out that much, or I missed the last issue of Vogue, but I had no idea that they made Hawaiian SHORTS to MATCH Hawaiian shirts. The quality of this picture isn't so great, but I needed to capture this beauty without getting arrested for stalking.

I love anything with my initials on it, even if it's an Ohio license plate. I'm self-involved that way. This Buckeye clearly has good taste, even though we know they can't drive for crap.

Hoopty with a bunch of tow-away notices on it. Surprisingly enough, it did not have an Ohio plate on it.

This is a totally cool Volkswagen Karmann Ghia. Hopefully the tow truck in the background was on its way for the hoopty above.

Doesn't every Dairy Queen have a deck of playing cards and a water bottle strewn throughout the shrubbery surrounding its parking lot? This is an obvious locale for card playing and water consumption.

Last, but certainly not least: smoked pork skin. I have no idea what this is for, or how one prepares it. I could Google it, but I am going to choose to stay blissfully ignorant on this one. If I need to lose a few pounds, I go to the grocery store down the street and stare at the smoked pork skin. My appetite then hops on the nearest Greyhound and gets the heck out of town.