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Just Like Tiger Woods

2002-05-12 - 7:01 p.m.

Wait - what? It's Sunday. Ok. I'm tired. Well, yes, and the sky is a golden blue. Wait - what? Yes, anyway. . .

So it's Mother's Day. Hi Mom! (right, because she reads this . . .as soon as she figures out how her computer turns on) My mom and Nanny came down to Dover today and we went out to lunch at Poco's in Portsmouth. I stabbed the hostess because she was in a snit, but other than that the food was good and we had fun. I had coconut-fried chicken fingers. Mmmmmmm. It was good. I kept expecting for Ben to pop in and inform "Just like those Ramens that you eat, that coconut fried chicken is horrible for you." That made it taste even better. Mmmmmmmm. The dipping sauce was mango chutney. That sounds so incredibly gross. But it was actually surprisingly mediocrely not-so-baddingly good.

I was telling Nanny how all the papers I have to write for finals (that I saved for the last minute of course) were stressing me out. To which Nanny replied: "Well, you're *just* like Tiger Woods. You're good under pressure." That made me laugh. So THERE all you Slops - I may not be able to play a guitar, the drums, baseball, or make my own breakfast, but you heard it here first - Nanny thinks me to be just like Tiger Woods. Then again, this is the same woman who, while we were at Izzy's for ice cream, loudly objected to "Pepi Hermann's" picture being on the wall. Ignoring the fact that she then went on to explain to me (and the other customers at Izzy's) that she "knew full well" what he was guilty of, I finally had to stop and inform her that she was meaning to say PeeWee Herman and not Pepi Hermann {who is a glass and crystal cutter in Laconia}. That shut her up.

So Celtics. Yes Yes. Excellent. Sure, we all know of the heroic exploits of the one-two punch of Antoine Walker and Paul Pierce (or should that be the 1st Half-2nd Half Punch?) And they deserve all the credit they get. And of course we all know that the Pistons are pure raw evil. BUT - mad phat crazy kangaroo props have to go out to Rodney "The New Gambler" Rogers, Kenny "Don't Be A Hero" Anderson, and Tony "I Can't Find Anything To Rhyme With" Delk. I especially have to single out Kenny. These play-offs have made Kenny come alive in a way that I thought was no longer possible. Kenny, if my lucky # wasn't already 8, I'd change it to 7 . . .just for you. Kenny, if something unfortunate ever happens to either Maura Tierney, that hot girl in the green shirt who climbs out her window to meet that guy in the street in the American Eagle ad, or Brian Daubach, then you better be prepared to kick that ol' ho Tami to the curb.

"Rock . . .aaaaaand . . .another Rock! Crap."

Did I mention that I love Spider-Man? I didn't? Well, for the record, I do. And it seems those borderline freakos in Southeast Asia do too. It seems that at today's "Super Happy Kite-Flying Fun Time Bubble Surprise Fair" in Manila, some super Spidey fans built a huge ass Spider-Man kite. And I mean B-I-G. So, not to keep you in suspense, I will share with you a picture of this kooky and creative offering to the Peter Parker altar of coolness as WELL AS the caption that Yahoo News offered with it, as much of the enjoyment I got was from the caption. So here:

[Filipinos fly a huge kite in the shape of the popular comic strip character Spider-Man during a kite festival in Manila May 12, 2002. Kite flying is a popular pastime in the Philippines.]

Ok. Just a few things. #1 - (and I knew this going in, but still) Why are people from the "Ph"ilippines called "F"ilipinos? I mean, stick with one "fff" sound please. You don't call people who like Phish "Fish-heads" (you call them "dirty hippies" - ba-doom-doom) and you don't call people who really like Salmon (like Ben) "Phish-heads", so you either change the name of the country to Filipinoland, or make the people be called Philippeeneons. You can't have your fish and eat it too. Also, I'm glad the guy who wrote the caption felt the need to explain to the lazy Americans that the quaint practice of "Kite flying is a popular pastime in the Philippines." As if to say, "don't make fun of them, they don't realize how slow they are". Now, hey, I'm not knocking kite flying. God knows I make my bread and butter(*) on selling kites from the "Go Fly A Kite" company at G. Willikers, but I just think those Philippeeneons need to get out more. Go to a Green Day concert or something. . .

SO the Alias seaon finale is tonight. I'd talk about what I think will happen, but I can't even spell half of the names involved so maybe I will just wait until it is all over before I comment.

"'Khasineau'? 'Sark'? I didn't have to deal with these hard words when I did 'Felicity' and 'Dude, Where's My Car'?"

So yeah, this next week will kick my ass like my name is Jay Landry. If you add up the totals of all the papers I have to write in the next four days it equals 26. That can't be good. Thank God I didn't schedule my big white water river rafting trip for this week. I want to buy the new suped-up "The Last Waltz" but it's too much money, and my birthday is still far away. *sniff sniff* It doesn't help that it just sits there on the shelf with it's glittery cover just laughing at me.

The Spurs are beating the Lakers (just barely) and let's hope that lasts, and Simpsons are gonna be on soon, so I'll wrap this up.

In honor of Mother's Day - the following photo:

*The Premiere Volleyball Team of the 80's*

It's been real,

Col. Mustard

ps -

Tami: "Stackhouse, it WASN'T NOT funny Stackhouse!"

Beth: (internal dialogue) [I lose this mole and it's Playboy-City, Population: Me!]

(*) - and by "bread and butter" I am refering to the $1.65 I make an hour working at G. Sweatshopikers

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