No, this man is not a giant. He's simply standing in a ridiculously small "flat" in London that is going for $335K. No, I'm dead serious.
In the latest "News of the Ridiculous," a 77-square-foot former storage room — slightly bigger than a prison cell and without electricity — is going for $335,000 in London's exclusive Knightsbridge neighborhood.
At more than $4,340 a square foot, the mortgage buys a spot within walking distance of tony stores like Harrods and London's iconic Hyde Park. Originally conceived as a maid's room, the apartment at 18 Cadogan Place hasn't been used for years and is littered with trash bags and crumbling paint. A coffin-sized shower is en suite, and storage is provided by a shallow closet and 10-inch-deep shelves cut into the wall. Two hot plates and a small sink make up the kitchen. Two dirty windows allow light to filter into the basement room, and the fire escape could conceivably double as a shared patio.
Oh, and there's no electricity or heating, which will cost an additional $59,000 in order to make the room habitable.
I'm sorry, but this is just nuttier than Tom Cruise. Jesus Christ, where would I put my Beanie Baby collection? I swear I will never, ever again complain about the price of real estate in the Bay Area.
It's been a week since I've posted and, yes, I know that I suck. But the week has been pretty much more of the same - early conference calls and too little sleep.
There was some good news this week. We won our second straight rugby game, leaving us at the top of the standings. However, we play the Division III Rugby National Champions this weekend, so we'll enjoy it while it lasts. And for those who had expressed concerns over my disfigured lip, it is entirely healed up and held up nicely in this past weekend's game. I can't say my neck is in any great shape, but oh well ...
Anyway, here's a funny, albeit confusing, video clip of Stephen Colbert explaining the whole AT&T/Cingular merger. I hadn't even heard the news, so this little video cheat sheet came in quite handy. This video goes out to my telecom homies at the Q. Enjoy, y'all!
My crazy manager just quit on Monday. No, not the new, crazy dude that owns a label maker. I'm talking about the crazy woman. That one. Anyway, I knew that she would be leaving eventually when she didn't get the General Counsel's job that she lobbied for -- and actually performed for over a year. But I didn't think she would be so rash to "resign" upon one day's notice -- and without another job to go to. Ouch.
Anyway, she's hired me twice and I've worked for her for years, so it's going to be weird working without her. She would drive me 110% nuts with her crazy fire drills, so I won't miss that. But she was a good person and had a sense of humor, both of which will be missed. It also probably means that David James will need to dust off his resume, which I guess is both good and bad. But I'd better get to it before I, uhhh, resign next.
The "Good" - we won our first rugby match of the season, beating the Marin Reds 11-7. It's a great feeling to win the first league game of our 8 game season, esp. since we weren't so great last year. We have a game this weekend against another good team before we play the Division 3 USA rugby national champion the following weekend.
The "Bad" - somehow my face managed to awkwardly collide with some 300 lb. guy's fist/forearm/paw when he went to high tackle me. Gosh, I am so clumsy sometimes! I managed to bust up my mouth pretty good so, suffice it to say, my lip balm modeling career might be on hold for a bit.
The "Ugly" - because Derek will certainly insist on seeing a photo of said injury, well here you go. My daughter summed it up nicely when she said "Daddy, it looks a little bit ... worse today."
Thank you dear child. You have to love the refreshing honesty of children.
Last night as I was making my way in the house, I found another dead bird on my front porch in almost the exact same spot as the one I found on Christmas. I thought the double homicide/suicide was a bit of an odd coincidence, so I decided to research the literary/dream symbolism of a dead bird. Perhaps there's a deeper meaning.
My rudimentary research indicated that the dead bird, as it appears in literature and in dreams, symbolizes "lamentation over lost innocence" (or "maidenhood"), as well as "lost love."
As much as I hate to disappoint my readers, I must admit that I lost my maidenhood a loooong time ago (sorry ladies). And I wouldn't call Scarlett Johansson dating Josh Hartnett "lost love," per se, although I guess that could change if she were to marry that loser.
Since that didn't really explain things much, I then began to ponder the "how" and "why" of it all. Most notably, "why am I getting weekly deliveries of dead birds on my goddamned front porch?" After considering the various possibilities, I concluded that one of the following was the answer:
Conclusion 1 - The roof of my house is made out of some mysterious, toxic substance which instantly kills birds on contact. Awesome. Now if I could only find some more of that goop to slather on Ann Coulter, I'd be very pleased.
Conclusion 2 - Some asshole is distributing dead birds in my neighborhood like some sort of fucking Johnny Appleseed. This would be equally awesome except for the fact that I'm the only one that appears to be regularly receiving these little gifts.
Conclusion 3 - A neighborhood cat is trying to curry favor with me by leaving me dead presents on my doorstep on a daily basis. How sweet. While I would prefer chocolates or flowers, I guess a dead bird would have to be considered a unique present. I can't honestly say I've ever received them before.
I'm going to have to choose conclusion 3 since it's the only one that will allow me to sleep at night.
Our good buddy Pat Robertson is back to his forecasting ways.
On Tuesday, Pat said that God told him during a recent prayer retreat that a terrorist attack on the United States would cause a "mass killing" late in 2007. "I'm not necessarily saying it's going to be nuclear (Ed. note: I'm certain he pronounced it "nuke-u-ler"). The Lord didn't say nuclear. But I do believe it will be something like that." Robertson also claims that God also said that major cities and possibly millions of people will be affected by the attack, which should take place sometime after September.
Holy shit, this guy talks to God so his track record has to be better than mine in my weekly "NFL Pick 'Em Pool." Hmmm, let's take a look at his ..., uhhh, I mean God's track record and let's assign a letter score to his prognostication ability.
* In January 2004, the broadcaster predicted that President Bush would easily win re-election.
Grade: C+. He was correct, Bush did win re-election and, unlike 2000, Bush actually won 51% of the vote, narrowly beating Sen. John Kerry (D-Mass). However, you would think that with God whispering in your ear, you could get a lot more specific than that. Predicting Bush would win re-election would have been like predicting that "tails will prevail" in a coin flip. Big deal.
* In 2005, Robertson predicted that Bush would have victory after victory in his second term. He said Social Security reform proposals would be approved and Bush would nominate conservative judges to federal courts. It's like predicting that a large star called "the sun" will magically rise in the East and set in the West -- each and every day of the year. Again, BFD.
Grade: C-. The Republican-led Senate did confirm Bush's 2005 nominations of right-wing fuckwits John Roberts and Samuel Alito to the Supreme Court, but Bush's inane Social Security initiative stalled and eventually died. And again, it doesn't take fucking Kreskin to predict that a conservative freak president will nominate conservative freak judges to higher courts.
* In January 2006, Robertson suggested that God punished then-Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon with a stroke for ceding Israeli-controlled land to the Palestinians.
Grade: Incomplete/No Grade Assigned. This isn't even a prediction. So why did I include it? Simply to demonstrate what an asshole Pat Robertson is.
* In May 2006, Robertson said God told him that storms and possibly a tsunami were to crash into America's coastline in 2006.
Grade: F. Even though the U.S. was not hit with a tsunami, Robertson on Tuesday cited last spring's heavy rains and flooding in New England as partly fulfilling the prediction.
"I have a relatively good track record," he said. "Sometimes I miss."
Well no shit, asshole. Hitting less than 50% of your predictions does not smack of God-inspired prophesy. If Robertson could have predicted the precise day that we lost the 3,000th solider in the Iraq civil war, that would have been compelling. Fuck, even predicting a St. Louis Cardinals vs. Detroit Tiger World Series match-up during spring training would have been impressive enough.
Jesus Christ, Pat, please quit while you're ahead before you ruin your credibility and make a mockery of your God-inspired leg pressing claims, too.
When I was a kid growing up in the 70's, I used to love watching bad TV game shows -- Hollywood Squares, The Joker's Wild, Tic Tac Dough, Card Sharks, you name it. One of my very favorite ones was Family Feud. I'm talking about the original one featuring Richard Dawson, not any of those shitty hacks that tried to follow in his footsteps. It was one game show where (1) it would often occur to me that I was decidedly smarter than those people that were actually on the show, and (2) Richard Dawson would never hesitate to let a contestant know (albeit nicely) how dumb they really were.
Anyway, it was some time during the late 1970's and I distinctly remember watching Family Feud in the middle of the day. I presume it was summertime, but it could have been one those days that are now referred to in the corporate world as a "personal leave day."
There were two families -- one family of European descent and one African American family. Or as it was simply described back then, the white family vs. the black family. I remember each family being a collage of bad fashion, dated hairstyles, and questionable game show answers. However, at the end of round 3 (or so), the "white" family led the "black" family along the lines of 268-0.
It's now time for the famed "Triple Score Round" (a/k/a "Let's finally finish up this game so we can show some goddamned commercials").
Richard Dawson begins to speak. "The top five answers are on the board. Name a slang term for a police officer."
BUZZ!!
"Cop" says the one guy from the black family.
"Survey says ....."
DING!!
"Cop is the #1 answer," says Dawson. "Do you want to play or pass?"
"We'll play, Richard," the family member confidently states.
Richard asks each family member the same question, "name a slang term for a police officer" and the proceed to reel off the remaining answers in order of popularity and without getting a single strike:
"Fuzz" "Heat" "Pig" "The Man"
And it just so happened that those were the only five responses, so the black family ended up winning 300-268. I remember it was pretty funny at the time, because the other family just stood there looking entirely stunned, thinking they had the game in the bag.
While I realize that there are probably some profound - and perhaps disturbing - sociological conclusions to be drawn from this episode, what really strikes me even years later was the jargon used back then. Certainly cop is still commonly used, but whatever happened to the more 70's-esque terms -- "heat," "pig" and "fuzz?" Or what about other great 70's terms, like "far out," "groovy," and "right on?" What ever happened to those?
Sure, some 70's terms are used still to this day (e.g., dude, awesome, disco). But there are so many great 70's colloquial expressions that have virtually disappeared and which, sadly, could soon be extinct one day.
So I decided that my 2007 New Year's resolution would be to bring back some of the 70's slang. Don't get me wrong, I'm just talking about the expressions, not the clothing, music or hairstyle. I'm really going to make an effort to sprinkle it into every day conversation as well as the blog. Special requests are, of course, welcome and encouraged.
And maybe, just maybe, we'll see a resurgence in the use of terms such as "foxy," "solid" and "can you dig it."
And as an extra bonus, here's a fantastic clip of Richard Dawson absolutely losing it and unable to compose himself on a Family Feud episode. I am certain he was hammered at the time, but that doesn't take away from the awesome-ness of this clip.
No, this man is not a giant. He's simply standing in a ridiculously small "flat" in London that is going for $335K. No, I'm dead serious.
