Hello everyone and welcome to yet another edition of R & R-squared. I apologize for the online disappearing act these past seven days but I figured that you’d understand if I wanted to get all the keg stands, beer bongs, and games of naked Crisco Twister out of my system during the first week of summer vacation. Now that I’ve completely recovered from the mother of all fictitious hangovers, I am rejuvenated and revitalized and ready to write. And equally ready for you to read. Enjoy the post.
Holiday in the Hamptons. My favorite new tv show of the summer is Royal Pains. Part fish out of water drama (a black-listed NYC E.R. doc stumbles upon a new career as a concierge doctor to the fabulously wealthy!), and part MacGyver-MD thrill-ride (Get me a sharp knife, a ballpoint pen, and a bottle of vodka, Stat!), this socio-economically correct show (Dr Hank treats both the rich AND the poor!) has something for everyone. Program that DVR now.
Revoke My Man Card. Shhhhh, don’t tell anyone but I was really into the Real Housewives of New Jersey. Man, talk about drama for your mama. Personally, I’m glad that Teresa decided to get new “bubbies”. At least now she looks like the rest of the ‘wives.
Can’t Fight City Hall. While I’m not going to name names, someone that I know got pimp-slapped by the City of Good Living for trying to run an end around the normal building permit process. After being caught and shut down for a week, the proper paperwork was finally ratified and the project was able to continue unabated to it’s conclusion. Lesson learned, right, my IMS/TM?
An Offer You Can’t Refuse. In a possibly related development, thanks to an over-eager whistle-blower named A.N., several residents in our neighborhood, present company included, got their sidewalks painted orange by the City and tagged as dangerous. We also received notification to get it repaired. On our dime.
They Don’t Write ‘Em Like They Used To. During a 30-minute span on the radio recently, I heard the following three songs: Birthday Sex, Lonely Stoner, and Disco Stick. Remember when Sisqo’s Thong Song was pushing the limits of acceptable taste.
Those Crazy Khans. Congrats to Farah on her move to Los Angeles. Don’t forget about all of us little people in the Bay Area. And save me a seat at Les Deux. Props to Ameer on his graduation from SJ State. Thank you for including me in your speech and for calling me your brother. And to Alia, good luck on your billable hours, Pea Hag. I’m looking forward to Idol Live with you and the Shadow.
(Not My) Million Dollar Idea. Imagine how off the hook it would have been if George Michaels would have endorsed Rice Chex cereal during his heyday twenty years ago. I Want Your Chex would have been everywhere. Don’t you think it’s time you had Chex with me? Credit should go to my college roommate Sean B for the idea that never escaped the dark recesses of my sub-conscious mind. Yes, have some.