Koalas.

They stink.

If you are looking for a clever blog...

If you constantly find yourself saying "Man, once I get done reading So I saw on the subway today..., I can't think of any other good blogs to read," then here is a suggestion.

Check out The Shortest Blog in the World. This is one of the funniest blogs I've come across, and as the creator says, it's fun size!

Say it ain't so Bill Murray. Say it ain't so.

After I read the news of Sydney Pollack's death earlier this week, I was reminded of how much I enjoyed his body of work, including Tootsie. I don't think most people remember that Bill Murray was in that movie, but he was. And that movie is one of the reasons that Bill Murray is one of my favorite actors. Lost in Translation, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, The Royal Tenenbaums, Rushmore, Ghostbusters...they are some of my favorite films.

So Bill Murray - say it ain't so. The Smoking Gun is reporting that you're a wife beating, drug using, alkie. Please. Say it ain't so.

From all the stories I've read over the years that state that you aren't part of the Hollywood elitist crowd, that you don't even have an agent, attorney, or manager, I've become an admiring fan. So, please say this is just the work of an over dramatic spouse who is out to tarnish your reputation due to bitterness.

Ugh. I don't know if watching any of the Ghostbusters movies will ever be the same again.

Be sure to take the new survey!

What are your thoughts on voodoo? I want to know! Take the survey on the upper left hand side of this blog. Just don't get on Wikipedia to research the topic. And don't watch the "The Witches of Eastwick". It'll mess you up!

Whoa! Voodou is voodoo is hoodoo!

Some of you might be wondering why I've gotten on this voodoo kick all of a sudden. Well, I think someone has given me a voodoo doll (pictures to come shortly) in the guise of a present, so I'm during my public research just in case my plane back to America next weeks goes down in a hell fire of flames. If so, you'll know why. I've been cursed apparently.

Thanks to a kind reader of this blog, I was given the Wikipedia address to learn about voodoo, which is also known as "voodou". And some call it "hoodoo". Basically, it's scarier than I had originally thought.

Here is what Wikipedia had to say:

"Vodou has come to be associated in the popular mind with the lore about Satanism, zombies and "voodoo dolls." While there is evidence of zombie creation, it is a minor phenomenon within rural Haitian culture and not a part of the Vodou religion as such. Such things fall under the auspices of the bokor or sorcerer rather than the priest of the Loa.

The practice of sticking pins in dolls has history in European folk magic, but its exact origins are unclear. How it became known as a method of cursing an individual by some followers of what has come to be called New Orleans Voodoo, which is a local variant of hoodoo, is a mystery. Some speculate that it was used as a means of self defense to intimidate superstitious slave owners. This practice is not unique to New Orleans voodoo, however, and has as much basis in European-based magical devices such as the poppet and the nkisi or bocio of West and Central Africa.

These are in fact power objects, what in Haiti would be referred to as pwen, rather than magical surrogates for an intended target of sorcery whether for boon or for bane. Such voodoo dolls are not a feature of Haitian religion, although dolls intended for tourists may be found in the Iron Market in Port au Prince. The practice became closely associated with the Vodou religions in the public mind through the vehicle of horror movies and popular novels.

There is a practice in Haiti of nailing crude poppets with a discarded shoe on trees near the cemetery to act as messengers to the otherworld, which is very different in function from how poppets are portrayed as being used by voodoo worshippers in popular media and imagination, ie. for purposes of sympathetic magic towards another person. Another use of dolls in authentic Vodou practice is the incorporation of plastic doll babies in altars and objects used to represent or honor the spirits, or in pwen, which recalls the aforementioned use of bocio and nkisi figures in Africa."

Granted, my faith in voodoo dolls has waned since the 10th grade when my best friend and I bought a voodoo doll to represent our English teacher, who shall remain nameless. I pushed at least a dozen pins into that damn doll and this teacher never even once winced. Maybe it was a crap voodoo doll or something. I still hold out a glimmer of hope. And this is exactly why this creepy voodoo-esque gift is scaring the pants off of me. How do you get rid of a curse? Do I have to regift the doll? Can I destroy it (i.e. throw it on the subway tracks or burn it for warmth)? Anybody who is learned in the field of voodou, voodoo and/or hoodoo, please get it touch.

UPDATE: Voodoo exists - just not in doll form.

I found voodoo on Wikipedia. I was spelling it "voo doo." My mistake.

Here is what Wikipedia had to offer...

Voodoo
See also: Haitian Vodou, Louisiana Voodoo, West African Vodun

Voodoo is a religious tradition originating in West Africa, which became prominent in the New World due to the importation of African slaves. West African Vodun is the original form of the religion; Haitian Vodou and Louisiana Voodoo are its descendants in the New World.

Can that entry get any more boring? God. Snoozefest. I'd like to take this moment to ask someone to update Wikipedia. Jazz up the voodoo entry a bit. A little pizzazz never hurt anyone.

Weird. No voodoo on Wikipedia.

I've become addicted to Wikipedia lately. For example, I spent three hours on the site the other night. It's insane how addicting it can be.

Shockingly, they don't have an online article about voodoo, you know, in the black magic sense. They have a bunch of music-related posts (apparently the Spice Girls released a song called "Voodoo"), but nothing on the art of poking dolls with pins, etc. What's the deal?

Am I lame and just not able to find the info, even though it's probably in plain sight on Wikipedia?

Initially, I was going to write about grandmas...

...but I'm listening to my iPod and the Bob Dylan song "Shelter From the Storm" just came on (a song I listened to almost every time I walked home across the Williamsburg Bridge), and I've just finished trading e-mails with a friend back home. As a result, America is very firmly on my mind at the moment. The fact that I'm only one week and three days from coming back to America is finally starting to sink in. And man, I'm really excited, probably more excited than I've ever been about anything ever before.

My dad sent me a home made "welcome home" note today. I got a little teary eyed reading it and realized why I was coming home - my friends and family are way too kick ass to live THIS far away from. They don't make people like you guys and gals in this part of the world. That's for damn sure.

So to Mom, Dad, Sister, Emily, Jessy, Brian, David, Ryoko, Bradley, John, Alan, Matt, Damien, Peter, Allison (even though you live in San Francisco) , and everyone else I hang out with in Oklahoma and New York - we're in the final days. I look forward to seeing familiar faces in the airport and as I walk down Bedford Avenue or as I get on the L train to head home from work.

And yes, for the first few months I'm back, I'm going to be one of those assholes who swoons at the sight of the Empire State Building. Get ready. It's going be awesome!

Truf - Breathing through one nostril is never fun.

I'm currently nursing a head cold that won't seem to go away, and as a result, I have developed the fine skill of breathing out of one nostril. The other nostril could be described as skilled in the field of ambidexterity (if you consider my nostrils appendages) - it can both run AND remain stuffed up, all at the same time!

Only one week and five days until summer weather. Not that I'm counting.

I understand if you don't want to be friends anymore, and yes, this post has to do with the band ABBA.

Contrary to the super cool persona this blog resonates (stop rolling your eyes!), I'm not as cool as the cat's pajamas, which should be evident by the fact that I just used the phrase "the cat's pajamas." Well, here's another reason to think I'm not awesome. It's almost 10 p.m. on a Saturday night here in Sydney, and I'm at home waching a documentary on ABBA visiting Australia sometime in the 1970s. And to make things worse, I've just realized that I'm a fan of the song "S.O.S." Don't believe me? Well, I've found a video of the song and have posted it below (and I've already watched it five times). I understand if you can't be friends with me. This might be too much for some of you to handle.

Is this a bad time for me to go on about how much I like IKEA as well? I used to think that IKEA was run by a bunch of communists because let's get serious folks - who sells furniture called Leksvik, Kviby, and/or Malm? I'll tell you who - the Commies. But, after realizing that IKEA has one of the most delicious cafeterias in the entire world (try the carrot cake!), I decided that the Reds couldn't be behind this greatness (I'm referencing the carrot cake).

For me, Heaven is a Saturday afternoon at IKEA with ABBA blaring over their store loud speaker.

What. The. Hell. (how Snapple ALMOST got put on the same list as G.E.)

I've never believed any of those people on various street corners in major cities of the world that preach that the Apocalypse is coming. I've always written them off as "nut jobs" or "crazies" (although I do enjoy a sandwich board with fun sayings like "Repent or Die!" and the classic "God hates the gays! Repent!").

However, I'm beginning to think that those loonies may be on to something. Why you may ask? Well, I'll tell you: Wendy the Snapple lady is no longer Wendy the Snapple lady. PREPARE FOR HELL FIRE!

Newsday has reported that Snapple and Wendy Kaufman have parted ways after years of working together to promote the (most amazing drink in the entire world) brand. According to Wendy, she was unhappy with the recent contract Snapple offered her and decided it was time to part ways.

First off, here's a little message to Wendy - Do you remember when people like Chris Kattan and Molly Shannon left Saturday Night Live to persue an acting career? And do you remember how well THAT worked?

And to Snapple - What in the hell is wrong with you? Do you remember the summer of 2005 when your attempt to break the record of the world's biggest popsicle blew up in your face? Or shall I say melted? Well, I do. I have fond memories of slipping and sliding on strawberry kiwi syrup all along 17th street. If it hadn't been for Wendy the Snapple lady and her ability to distract me from almost everything within a ten mile radius, I would have slagged off Snapple for good (despite the fact that I'm about this close to having a chemical addiction to Diet Snapple Raspberry Iced Tea).

I feel like it's the end of an era. An era where a portly Jewish lady could whore out a beverage and I would buy into the whole concept. I imagine this is what it felt like when the Renaissance ended. Sigh.

I'll leave you with a classic Wendy the Snapple lady moment. R.I.P.

Writing with nothing to write about.

As the title of this blog posts suggests, I have nothing to write about. I've entered the "in between" period of my move where the only thing I can concentrate on is the fact that I'm going back to America. As a result, time has decided to stand still. Every time I look at my watch, I swear the little watch hands are flipping me off. It's the same with calendars. That little puppy on my desk calendar looks a bit too smug. It's as if he knows that I'm counting down the days (2 weeks and 3 days!).

By the way, who would have guessed that I would have a puppy calendar? I know. I know. I can be cuddly too.

Sooooooo...anything new from Sue Simmons? Has she unleashed more verbal massacres on any unsuspecting audiences in the past vew days? SOMEONE ENTERTAIN ME!

Truf - Light is not always better.

I'm talking about Sunkist Light soda. I just tasted Sunkist Light for the first time, and I have to say…well...it's light on a lot of things but certainly not bad taste.

I for one am a huge fan of not only soda, but the orange-flavored kind. Somebody got a Fanta they want to share? I'll take it! But if you try to give me a Sunkist Light in the future, I'll hate you. Will I still drink it? Well yeah. I never say no to free soda. But my contempt for you will be palpable.

Truf - The one day you don't live by the triple check rule when it comes to your fly being up...

...it will most definitely be down and it will take a man noticing your red undies and pointing out that your fly is indeed down for you to notice.

Normally, my routine consists of:

1. Pull pants up.
2. Button up.
3. Zip up.
4. Open bathroom door.
5. Recheck fly situation.
6. Wash hands.
7. Recheck fly situation.
8. Exit bathroom.
10. Recheck fly situation.

Dammit! The one day I skip steps #5, #7 and #10, I totally drop the ball. On a more positive note - the guy who pointed out my undies, well...I think we had a bonding moment. And not in a pervy way.

Sue Simmons - my new favorite news anchor.

For you New Yorkers, this is probably a bit old. However, I am still at the end of the Earth in the middle of nowhere and only heard of this yesterday. Please watch the following video clip:



I'm guessing you are probably thinking to yourselves that Sue Simmons is now my favorite news anchor. Well, you're right. Any women that curses like a sailor on live television earns my respect. And what a diva! What do you think Sue was swearing at? Leave your ideas in the comments section!

Michael Buble is about two steps away from becoming my archnemesis.

Two of my roommates are going to see Michael Buble in concert in a few weeks, and I realized only this evening that I can't say his last name without laughing. Immature? Well, of course. Completely appropriate? Sort of.

This guy is the hottest ticket in town for the over sixty crowd (with the exception of my two roommates). And before I go on any further, I want to say right now that I have seen my roommates' iPods and I know that they have pretty good music taste - except for the Buble. I can't get behind this guys. I'm sorry.

So exactly who is the Buble? In short, the Buble rips off Frank Sinatra. The Buble appears in Starbucks commercials. The Buble is adored by millions of grandmas the world over. The Buble has the worst last name ever imagined. If the Buble was from Florida, he would be my archnemesis. Your Canadian birth saved you my friend. Otherwise, you would have been on the list, right behind General Electric.

And as I wrap up this post, I would like to end with a message to the Buble himself: I'm watching you Buble. You might be buttering up the grandparents of the world, but I've got my eyes on you. When the geriatrics rise up and attempt to take over with their slow walking, canes and prescription medicines, I'll still have my eyes on you. Nobody tries to sell me Starbucks via the television without raising my suspicions. NOBODY!

Remember to take the survey!

Dear Readers -

You only have a few days left to take the survey in the upper left hand corner of the blog. Let me know what you think of the new (well, not so new anymore) site design. Also, if you have any suggestions about features, etc. you would like to see on the blog, leave them in the comments section.

Ciao.
Mary Ann

Oh General Electric, why are you stamping all over my heart?

For those of you that survived the summer when I became obsessed with Baskin Robbins’ ice cream cakes, I'm warning you - another siege is on. However, this time my focus isn't on delicious dairy/baked goods. This time, I'm taking on a 120 year old company. That's right readers - I'm talking about General Electric (side note: I'm not sure how many other companies have been around for 120 years, but feel free to educate me via the comments section).

General Electric can be likened to my second serious college boyfriend - he gave me heaps of things (attention, love, friendship, etc.), but then he took it all away (and no, that's not bitterness. It's fact - he dumped me. Feel better now?). But unlike the cheap jewelry and novelty gifts the boyfriend gave me, G.E. has supplied me with some of my most favorite home appliances, which include:

1. The room air-conditioner (1930)
2. The combined washer-dryer unit (1954)
3. The toaster oven (1956)

My fundamental happiness is dependent on those three appliances. Dont' believe me? For five months out of the year, you can find me almost every evening parked in front of my AIR CONDITIONER eating Baskin Robbins’ ice cream cake in my underwear. And what do I do when I wake up in a pile of melted ice cream and soggy cake? I have to WASH and DRY my underwear. And what do I do while I wait for my underwear to dry? I eat TOAST- my second favorite food in the world!

In my previous post, I also go into detail about how my favorite television program, 30 Rock, will be devastated by this sale of the G.E. appliance unit, so don't forget that background information either.

I've decided that the best course of action is to buy the appliance unit myself when it comes up at auction. The New York Times has reported that the unit's net worth is at least $5 billion. And on that note, I would like to officially announce my new charity, the "Don't Destroy Everything in this World that Mary Ann Loves" foundation. Money raised through this effort will go to saving G.E., saving baby ducks and funding my fabulous lifestyle (i.e. my ice cream cake habit).

And finally, a cautionary note. Let us all remember what happened when another treasured piece of history went up for sale. Of course I'm speaking of the Beatles' song catalog. If I know my history, Michael Jackson bought the rights to the music and the next thing we know, John Lennon is trying to convince me to buy a pair of Nike sneakers because apparently they'll cause a fitness REVOLUTION. Did the rest of you just barf on your keyboards? I sure did. Blargh.

Moving on up, To the East Side, We finally got a piece of the pie!

The Technorati pie that is! My blog just moved over 5 million spots on Technorati's blog rankings - So I saw on the subway today... is now ranked 5,137,428! Whoopee! We're in the top six million baby! This is just like when I won 16th place (also known as second to last) in my middle school's track meet!

I believe the significant jump in rank is due to the fact that someone linked to my blog posting on General Electric destroying my life. Thanks to the blogger who liked the story enough to repost it. It's kind of funny to see my ramblings posted alongside serious news posts. I guess there is a market for incoherent babbling.

For those of you with your own blogs, feel free to link my content, as today officially marks my unhealthy obsession with improving my Technorati ranking. Do I check the Technorati website at least five times every hour? You betcha! Is there a direct link between my personal self-esteem and how many Technorati fans I have? You better believe it!

It's pretty easy to become a "fan" of this blog - just click on the Technorati button on the left side of the screen and you can help catapult So I saw on the subway... to greater heights (as well as stroke my ego). Let's make this blog rank 5,137,427 by next month! Weezy Jefferson would approve!

A very special blog post for my dad

I would like to say a great big HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my dad as he is turning 63 years old today. He is probably the most avid reader/supporter of my blog, so I figured I would give him a little shout out - Hi Dad! See you in two weeks and six days!

I love you very much (and please remember to pick me up from the aiport at 8 p.m. on Sunday, June 8th).

P.S. The photo included is of my dad cheering on the Kansas Jayhawks to victory during the NCAA Basketball Championships. I was hoping to a use a photo of him that we lovingly call "Wally the Walrus", but I don't have a copy of it on my computer.

Halloween 2008 - too early to start planning my costume? NO!

I know some of you might think that since it's only the middle of May, it's too early to be planning a Halloween costume. Well, to you people I say this: I've been brainstorming Halloween costumes since February, so just deal with it and plan on giving me a prize for the most Halloween costume you've ever seen, come October 31st, of course.

So far, these are the options I've come up. In no particular order:

1. A chicken nugget
2. Marie Antoinette - pre-decapitation
3. Marie Antoinette - post-decapitation
4. A hot dog
5. The Incredible Hulk
6. A Kleenex
7. A blog (obviously, this blog!)
8. Linda Richman (Mike Meyers' character from Saturday Night Live circa early 1990s)
9. A cupcake
10. A skeleton

I know my lists ranges from high brow (Marie Antoinette - pre-decapitation) to "what the hell are you thinking?" (the rest of the list), but I think I can pull these costumes off. The Hulk would be the easiest, obviously. My luscious muscles can't be contained. But seriously, I'm sure I could manipulate my body fat to RESEMBLE muscles. And when I suck in my gut hard enough, it kind of looks like I have a one pack...which is only five away from a six-pack. STOP JUDGING ME!

Leading up to the final costume decision, feel free to leave your ideas for my Halloween costume in the comment section of this post. Please, nothing vulgar. I've already gone as the Virgin Mary post-giving birth to the baby Jesus, so trust me, you can't really beat that. (<-- Fun Fact: That costume is what secured my ticket to Hell).

G.E. just stuck a fork in one of the only things I truly love.

Today, The New York Times reported that General Electric would be selling their appliance unit. My response? Ah, HELL NO! And why do I stand opposed to the sale? Because of one reason and one reason only: One of my favorite parts about the t.v. program 30 Rock, starring Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin, involves a G.E. appliance unit. That's right folks. I'm talking about Microwave Oven Programming.

What will 30 Rock's Jack Donaghy do without the Microwave Oven Programming unit?! THE MICROWAVE OVEN PROGRAMMING UNIT!!!!!!!! I dare say, G.E. has just declared war on Mary Ann Porch. And Mary Ann Porch isn't going down without a fight.

I'm drafting a letter to the bigwigs at G.E. right now. This is what I have so far:

Dear General Electric -

Please do not sell off your appliance unit and destroy the one thing I enjoy out of life - Jack Donaghy's reign over the Microwave Oven Programming Unit on the hit show 30 Rock. You might not be aware, but I'm currently lying on my death bed. I can see the light. But I'm ignoring it because I'm watching 30 Rock on t.v. Ever heard the saying that "Laughter is the best medicine"? Well, that's what my doctor just wrote on my chart. Please don't eff with modern medicine and kill me.

XOXOXO,
Mary Ann
(1981 to :: a date that is in your hands, General Electric ::)

Readers, feel free to contribute edits/additions to this letter by leaving comments to this post. Let's fight the man!

Why I will not be humming the Folger's Coffee theme song "The best part of waking up..."

...is not Folger's in my cup. To begin with, I've accidentally given up coffee. I don't have a coffee maker at home, and I found that I developed an unhealthy penchant for Starbucks. I know. I'm ashamed too. However, after running late to work for about four days in a row, I didn't have time to run into Starbucks on my way into the office, so I sort of broke the habit. But I still like saying Starbucks. Starbucks.

Starbucks.

My dwindling coffee habit aside, I am now confronted with two distinct smells in the morning. And they sure as hell ain't coffee aroma.

The first usually hits my nostrils around 8:15 a.m. while I'm walking through Hyde Park. It's a fine blend of homeless man's urine and cow poop. I'm guessing the cow poop can be attributed to the fertilizer they are using in the flower beds of the park, but the homeless man urine smell most definitely belongs to a homeless man who I see every morning asleep on a park bench. I've nicknamed him Hobo Joe, the Pee Pee Man. Even when there is no wind to speak of, Hobo Joe's body odor miraculously makes it the good ten feet between me and his spot on the bench. Let me tell you - that smell will wake you up a hell of a lot faster than coffee as the speed you begin to walk to get away from the stench causes you to walk faster, faster heart rate, etc.

The second smell comes about five minutes after I get off the train in North Sydney. Right outside the train station is a fish market. Well, it's not so much a market as it is one seafood joint selling the raw goods. About half way into the shopping center where this fish stall resides, the smell of various different raw fish attacks my senses like a group of ants at a picnic. I can't run away as I'm surrounded by dozens of other train passengers. And inevitably, I get behind either a handicapped old lady who looks like each step she takes is bringing her closer to death (and at a snail's pace, mind you) or a group of teenagers/youths who are too busy gabbing and yakking to walk faster. I'd push either out of the way if wasn't for the divine fear of either being struck down by the hand of a supreme power because I mowed over a grandma or the fear of getting my ass kicked by a group of teenage girls. I think when it comes to the teenagers, I could probably take at least one of them. But if you've got a group of three or more, I imagine it would be like fighting a group of hyenas. I'm not willing to take the risk.

This story has a happy ending though. I discovered that if I overcompensate on perfume in the mornings and wear my black scarf, I can tuck my face down into said scarf (imagine a turtle retracting into its shell if you can't get a good mental picture of what this might look like) and just breathe in my delicious own scent instead of the invading odors I have been faced with the past few weeks. Because let me tell you something - I smell DAMN good. The baby Jesus is envious of my smell. True story. Starbucks.

Truf - Peanut butter on green apples is the best snack...EVER.

Don't try substituting red apples...unless you want a snack that, at its best, would be described as "crapple".

Also, the picture I've included does not do this snack justice. It was either this photo or a picture of someone's cat named Peanut Butter. Hey, even Google Image Search has its low points.

I never thought I would quote an Ozzy Osbourne song, but when the shoe fits...

I would say it's a sad day when I quote a man who once bit the head off of a live bat, but let me tell you - that's note the case. As of June 21st, I'll be a New Yorker again. A New Yorker in New York. That's right:

Times have changed and times are strange,
Here I come, but I ain't the same
Mama, Im coming home

Even though I hate that song, it's so true. At least those three lines. And yadda yadda yadda I watched The Osbournes on MTV when the show first premiered yadda yadda yadda. Geez...anything else you need to know? Fine. Fine. I like Robin Williams and STILL laugh when I watch Mrs. Doubtfire. So sue me!

Ahem. Moving on...

To all my New York friends, I will be back amongst you soon and I can't wait! Although I love you, my first stop is Chipotle for a burrito. You can meet me there if you want, but I won't be able to talk to you as I will be rejoicing in all that is Chipotle burrito. Deal with it. You knew the score a long time ago. If it came down to you or a Chipotle burrito...well...I'd have to think about it. Seriously think about it.

Regardless, I'M BACK BABY!

(and to celebrate, I've posted a photo of myself that may or may not have appeared on a Lower East Side bus stop in the winter of 2005.)

Two types of friends.

I've decided that friends can fall into two categories:

1. The type that pick you up from the airport.
2 The type that wouldn't pick you up from the airport, even if you asked.

100th Blog Posting!

I had hoped to have something amazingly funny or insightful to write for my 100th blog posting...but I have writer's block. Go figure.

But in better news, I have just added my Twitter feed to my blog, so you can now follow my random spontaneous outbursts throughout the day! You can check it out at the bottom left hand side of the blog.

Truf - I have the same sense of humor as most 10 year old boys.

I noticed today that whenever I rub my hands together, for example, to warm them in cold weather, I can not avoid making farting noises. My hands are incapable of silently rubbing together. And do I laugh every time I hear said farting noise? Yes. Yes I do.

(rubbing hands together right :: now ::)

This says a lot.

More to come later...

300 readers!

Hello Loyal Readers -

Today marks the 300th hit this blog has received. To the person from Dibble, Oklahoma who was the 300th reader, I applaud you.

To everyone else, you should shoot to be the next milestone. Read more often you lazy bums!

Eau de Taco Bell.

This morning on the train, the man sitting next to me smelled exactly like a Taco Bell restaurant. It was like he had sorted out the logistics behind bottling the distinct smell of "beef," cheap hot sauce and old lettuce of arguably one of the most disgusting, but at the same time delicious, chain restaurants in the world.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that someone breaks the code to bottling the scent of tater tots, hot dogs and Sonic hamburgers. Eau de Tater Tot will be my signature smell. That's right gentlemen, start your bidding now.

Truf - Fried Green Tomatoes, Steel Magnolias and Designing Women are still relevant.

For those skeptics that think the films Fried Green Tomatoes and Steel Magnolias, as well as the television show Designing Women, are outdated and irrelevant, I'm here to tell you that you're wrong.

The idea of sassy Southern women is NEVER out of style, and in the immortal words of Carlene Frazier Dobber, "I've learned one thing in my life; never fry chicken when you are naked."

Thank you.

I wanted to post a quick "thank you" to all my readers. The feedback I've received on the new site design has been extremely encouraging and all your suggestions only make this a better blog. Keep up the good work reader!