Say what you want…

…but they’re only in it for themselves.

Say what you want…

…but it’s the nose and mouth. Something about Maggie Gyllenhaal has always, always bugged me. Throughout The Dark Knight, I just felt…I dunno…out of sorts when I looked at her. She was distracting to watch. Anyway, last night I saw (and was bothered again by) a picture of her on the New York Post website. I then decided to find out what exactly it is about Maggie that makes me go, “hmm, somethin’ be off.”

So I quick-and-dirty Paint Shopped Ashley Olsen’s nose and mouth onto Maggie’s face, and air-brushed those mighty mighty cheek craters. I must say, the result was actually pretty. I arrived at my answer. A little rhinoplasty here, a little lip collagen there…just a little is all. Like salt.

I know, I know…you all like her just as she is, because she’s “cute” and not a “standard Hollywood plastic beauty.” Come on, Dad, just having a little fun here.

In fact, wanna see what I’d look like morphed with Brooke Shields? My eyes, her eye color, brows and lips, and a combination of our noses. In other words — mostly her. I’d take that.

Or how about me mixed with Al Pacino?

Heh. I love that site.

Fink out.

:-)

Groovy

Check this out: body art by Italian artist Guido Daniele. Amazing. Gives new meaning to the term hand painted. Heh. I do envy the talents of these people, seriously.

Click on the pictures for the big version (they won’t open in a new window, though).

More grooviness: you might have noticed that I monkeyed with the comment structure. You can now, thanks to a cool plugin for nested comments, reply directly to someone’s comment at RtB, rather than start a new one and use names to direct your response. To other WordPress users: I know that this particular plugin has been around awhile, but I don’t like how it looks because the guy who wrote it is Japanese, and his English reflects it. I’m working on hacking around it, but I don’t want to break php files cuz I don’t know how to fix them…

Hey, it’s Monday morning and I am not going to school. I’m going to the dentist instead. Joy.

Fink out.

Unbelievable, but true

I’m not sure it’s so unbelievable anymore. The money just keeps rolling in for these guys. I guess I’m just jealous. Money can’t buy me love, right? I know. But I’d sure like to see what else it could buy me. Anyway, I digress.

Former Cleveland Indians pitcher C. C. “Baby Huey” Sabathia is going to be given $9.5 million — not for pitching for the New York Yankees, mind, but for simply saying “yes” to pitching for them.

On top of that, he gets a $14 million salary in 2009 and $23 million in each of the final six seasons of the deal. He wins the prize (for today, at least) for the largest contract ever for a major league pitcher. Nice.

Hand it to him, though. He did admit that “with the economy being the way it is … the huge amount of money, it was, you know, pretty crazy. But that’s our game, I guess.”

Well at least he was properly humble.

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Van Halen, yikes. David Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen don’t look anything like they used to. But who among us does, right? *sigh*

Still doesn’t change the fact that they look like accountants playing Rock Band on Saturday night.

I remember a story my boss told me years ago, when I worked in the student activities office at a local university, where I was in charge of processing the contracts for the big-name acts the college booked. He said that Van Halen had a rider in their contract that demanded a large bowl of M & Ms be provided for the band backstage — but with all brown ones removed.

I always thought that was funny. I mean, they were definitely bad boys — bigtime party horses. But was someone in the band so paranoid about the color brown that concert organizers would need to go to such lengths? I didn’t believe it. But…turns out it’s true — sorta.

===============

Finally, PK sent me this link yesterday and I laughed. I think we can categorize this one as just “unbelievable.” Especially when you read the “testimonials.” HA

Hey, you have a nice Sunday. What are you up to today? For me: studying, maybe a little choreography, and watching the Browns and Bengals play for what little pride they have left. Yeesh. At least the Cavs are winning, for now.

Fink out.

That was fun

So yeah, we had our family Christmas gathering last night. A fabulous time.

As we ate, laughed, opened gifts, chatted, bawled and laughed some more, I was reminded of a comforting truth: in spite of all the hardships of money (meaning not enough of it), time (ditto) and general craziness that comes with having what I call a large family in scope if not in size … I am blessed in a big way, due in no small part to the wonderful women who I am honored to call my daughters. We had a “girls’ photo” taken before everyone scattered, and I am going to have it framed.

[You know I am happy about getting together for a photo if I post a public picture with me in my glasses and not contact lenses. I need to get frames like Helen’s, so I don’t look like the aging school marm that I am. Mercy.]

My wish is for every mother-in-law and stepmom in the world to have caring, funny, intelligent and cool daughters and daughters-in-law to bless them.

Only downside of our Christmas this year: we have to say goodbye to Johanna, who will move to Austin, Texas tomorrow, where she will attend grad school, work for the IRS, and do great things — guaranteed. You heard it here first.

Still, it was a fab time last night, and everyone had fun — including Jakey, who loved his new toys (although Rousseau wasn’t too sure about them).

Now it’s on to the reality of studying, studying, choreography, studying and choreography. Play time is over.

Arg.

Fink out.

Yikes.

This is the kind of story that, when you read it or hear it, you smile and go, “Get outta here.” In other words, you don’t believe it. But it is undeniably, embarrassingly, head-shakingly true.

Remember the lawsuit filed against a dry cleaner by that rookie judge in Washington DC? The cleaner lost the judge’s suit pants, and the guy flipped out and sued them.

Well, the Mother of All Frivolous Lawsuits (and as you know, fiends, that is a tough title to win, since frivolous lawsuits rule the American justice system) is in the news again, and once more, it appears to have received its walking papers. The guy just can’t let it go.

According to this article at CNN.com, the appellate court told wackjob judge Roy Pearson (he has since been relieved of his duties) to get over it and go away. However, considering this nut’s history, that’s not likely to happen until he’s told to go away by the US Supreme Court. (And yes, it’s totally possible that our court system will allow it to go that far.)

Anyone with half a brain can see that his lawsuit — to the tune of $67 million for losing a pair of suit pants — was insane. You actually have to read it to believe it. From the Wall Street Journal:

He wanted $500,000 for emotional distress and–though representing himself–$542,000 in legal fees. Best of all, he claimed that the signs on display at Custom Cleaners, “Satisfaction Guaranteed” and “Same Day Service,” were fraudulent, entitling him to damages of $1,500 each per day under D.C. consumer law. He multiplied 12 violations by three defendants by 1,200 days, and soon was up over $65 million (later cut to a mere $54 million).

And here’s the kicker. The dry cleaner (the Chung family, South Korean immigrants trying to establish an American dream) initially offered Pearson a $12,000 out-of-court settlement for him to drop the lawsuit. $12,000 for a pair of trousers, and he refused. Instead, he tacked on an extra $2 million for “discomfort, inconvenience, and mental distress.”

Mental distress. Over pants.

According to the Wiki about it (again, you really do have to read it to believe it), DC Superior Court Judge Neal Kravitz was quoted as saying that “the court has significant concerns that the plaintiff is acting in bad faith.”

Gee, ya think?

Some things are so idiotic, there are no words. But here are a few wise ones from the WSJ op-ed:

Whole dockets’-worth of opportunistic litigation would dry up if we revised [our] laws so as to require a showing of actual injury.

It’s nice to see that even the organized plaintiffs bar piously deplores Mr. Pearson’s abuse of the law. It would be even nicer if they agreed to stop opposing reforms that would give the Chungs of the world a fighting chance the next time around.”

And until that day, we will continue to read about loony litigants like Roy Pearson, who, at the trial, broke down in tears when describing his lost pants, giving the judge no choice but to call a brief recess for Roy to regain his composure.

I am not making this up.

Hey, no school for me today. I kind of wish we’d had it; Meg made cinnamon rolls. OH WELL.

Fink out (and excited about the Christmas fĂȘte tonight)

PS – This was the view from my back door this morning at 6:00.

Photo credits: Washington Post