We even had the winning bid on one of the silent auctions - a gift basket containing munchies and various exotic beers. Liz tried to win four dancing lessons (genre : tangos, foxtrots, waltzes, etc.) but was outbid in the final seconds.
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A good time was had by all. I was even coaxed out onto the dance floor for "our song" (Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers). If I get ambitious, I'll put up more details and pics on a separate blog.
I was allowed to skip this concert, as Liz went with a friend. I went with Liz a long time ago to see these guys, and they do put on a fine concert. The problem is that the audience is about 85% female, all of whom are standing up the whole time, shrieking, and dancing around. Not exactly my idea of what to do at a concert. Seeing these guys once was enough for me.
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Liz says it was, as always, a fan-freaking-tastic experience. And FWIW, Paul McCartney is here in concert soon. But I get to skip that one as well. I'm sure it will be more dancing, yelling, and swooning. I'll pass.
It was a perfect evening. Supper at Majerle's, a sports bar owned by former-Suns star Dan Majerle. The food was decent, and we got to watch Arizona State beat U-of-A in collegiate hoops.
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Then it was off to the Suns game. We were in the nose-bleed section, literally one row from the very top of the arena, and behind one of the baskets. But the tickets were free, so I'm not complaining. And although there were 17,000+ at the game, there were plenty of empty seats. After 5 minutes, we moved about 15 rows closer, and our collective vertigo went away.
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The Kings are a laughably bad team, were on the road, and were playing the second night in a row. We were well-rested and still have Amar'e. So of course, the Kings out-hustled and out-scored us the whole first half. But we turned things around in the third quarter, and put them away in the fourth; and the final score made it look deceptively like it was a romp.
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The most-interesting thing for me were the time-out and intermission acts - the things you don't see when you watch the game on TV. There was the Gorilla and his team of gymnasts doing eye-popping slam dunks off a trampoline. There were a bunch of Geezerettes doing a dance routine and wishing they were young again. And there were the "Four Tops Look-Alikes" from the nearby casino serenading us at half-time, but seeming like they would've preferred to be doing something else on a weekend night.
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Best of all, Sunday Suns games start early. So we were home in bed, and reading a book by 9:30 PM.
Sadly, this is not a spoof.
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On a brighter note, we're off to see the Phoenix Suns play tonight. Amar'e is still with us and we're playing the lowly Sacramento Kings. On paper, we win by 20. But we shall see.
You know that there's a great story behind this pic, and that we'll never find out what it is.
First, Mrs. Tiger won't be there. She's been positively uncooperative in this whole affair. Second, the "friends, colleagues, and close associates" mentioned in the sub-headline will be thoroughly touched. Tears will flow, hankies will get honked, group hugs will abound, and all of them will have heart-touching things to say to Tiger afterwards, conveniently just loud enough for the microphone to pick up. They're doing the sound-testing even as I write this.
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Third, Tiger will tell you he's deeply sorry, but won't say exactly about what. Mostly he's sorry the media won't let this story go. Fourth, he'll tell you that "the overwhelming majority" of the reports of his infidelity are lies, although he won't tell you which ones are true.
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Fifth, he'll tell you he's be working very hard to change his lifestyle, but he won't directly reference any of those phony "sightings" at the various sex rehab clinics that were "leaked" by his PR suits over the last few months. You're supposed to make that connection yourself. Sixth, he's going to announce he going back on tour (he needs the money for the alimony payments), but he won't be taking any questions about his personal life because "he's moving on" and wants you to do the same.
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Oh and last but not least, he won't be flashing those new pearly-whites much, cuz he knows the gossip sheets are going to be comparing "before" and "after" photos. The implants have apparently healed, but are they really perfect replicas of the ones Mrs. Tiger knocked out? We'll see.
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Good luck , Tiger. You scumbag. You can go back to golf anytime you like, but your womanizing is not going to be forgotten. Your integrity, and therefore your endorsement believability is irretrievably lost.
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Pernell Roberts (far left in the pic).jpg)
A word or two about Bonanza. It kicked Ratings butt - being the #1 TV show three years in a row. It was sponsored by Chevrolet, and was what every household tuned their TV's to at 9:00 PM each Sunday night. At 7:00 PM, every TV set was tuned to The Wonderful World Of Disney. And for the life of me, I can't remember what aired in between those two blockbusters. The FBI (with Efrem Zimbalist, Jr.) maybe? The Ed Sullivan Show? Perry Mason? Lawrence Welk? Perhaps it changed from one season to the next.
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So whattaya think? Cool, huh?
Then there's the guy who sees Jesus' face on his driver's-side window on cold, humid mornings. Hmm. Methinks there's a bit of skullduggery going on here. I'm always impressed that when God makes these images, She remembers to use the medieval-type rendering of Jesus - long hair, a beard, very anglo, and very unlikely.
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Here's another message from God, this time putting a cross on a calf. I am not making this up. At least we know this one wasn't faked. BTW, the owners of this calf said they've decided to spare him the slaughterhouse fate, so maybe this is a case of Divine Intervention.
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The problem is - if you've seen too many of these silly images, you start looking for your very own personal pictograph from God. I think this is already happening to me.
And then there's this one, which tells me that Marxism has God's approval.
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Or, to quote Cherchy LaFemme, from that fantastical cartoon strip, Pogo : "Friday the Thirteenth falls on a Saturday this month!!"
Valentine's Day is this coming Sunday. Which means 50% of us (that would be all us guys) will be out wandering the malls on Saturday, wondering what in the heck to buy to go along with the Hallmark card we picked up. Without reading it. Hopefully, it doesn't say something like, "To my favorite mother-in-law" or "For my main hunk".
Santa's elves lied. When I opened it, there were fourteen pages of assembly instructions, and a couple gazillion parts - albeit, that includes nuts, bolts, washers, etc.
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I am extremely mechanically uninclined (and disinclined). I can screw in a lightbulb and shoot a staple gun, but that's about it. So this project quickly stressed me out. I've learned there's only one thing to do when that happens. Go to a bookstore for a couple hours and forget about the task at hand. Which is exactly what I did.
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Liz, OTOH, is quite mechanically inclined. So while I was gone, she took Phillips screwdriver and Allen wrench in hand (those were the only tools required), and set to work putting the elliptical together. When I returned, she was just in the process of plugging it in and testing it out.
It was three days before she stopped walking around the house with that smug look on her face.
Thomas M. Parham, Jr.
Ah, HHGTTG. One of my favorite books, even if the sequels got progessively more ho-hum. The movie was good too, provided you'd read the book beforehand.
My Beaker People persona celebrates it as Imbolc, and for him it's the day halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. It's always a time to look forward to the thawing of the snowy weather. He says the Druids stole the day and profaned it. See here.
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My Druid persona calls it Brigid's Day. For him, it's a day to honor Brigid, who among other things, is the patron goddess of multiple personalities, since she had three of them. He says the early Roman Catholic church stole the day and profaned it. See here.
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My Estonian freedom fighter, being Catholic, knows it as Candlemas, and lights dozens of candles all over the house to celebrate the visit of Mary with 40-day-old Jesus to the temple for purification, as recounted in Luke. He thinks the Germans stole it a long time ago and profaned it. See here.
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My Gnostic persona, thinks it is a day of weather divination, but feels that the idea of Groundhog Day's Punxatawny Phil is just a trifle silly. Now a prognosticating badger, or bear, or even a snake - that's a lot more believable. See here. He thinks Bill Murray stole it and profaned it by making a film, whose only redeeming quality is that involves time-travel. Kinda.
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And my Carthagenian general persona thinks all of the above personae are superstitious geese and need to get a life. He kinda enjoyed the film. See here.
