Apropos of Nothing

Here’s an unfortunate use of hyphens: “No one is having champagne-and-caviar-ice-sculpture parties anymore,” Winston says. “Those days are long gone.” I would hope those days are over because you just described an ice sculpture made of champagne and caviar, which would probably look like really dirty snow. It should be “champagne and caviar ice-sculpture parties.” Your hyphen privileges are revoked.

I don’t understand the appeal of Ryan Gosling and I don’t know why there’s an outcry for him to be named People’s sexiest man alive. He’s not unattractive but I think he looks like … just a person. He’s beige.

I saw the most heartwarmingly horrific commercial for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. Jennifer Anniston is talking to two bald children about what they want for Christmas. “My hair back,” said one bald girl. “And no more cancer,” said the other bald girl. And I collapsed in a quivering pile of jelly and threw a blank check at the TV. Now there’s another commercial that will make me run out of the room?! This is as bad as Sarah MacLachlan and the abused animals.   

I recently saw the British spelling “faeces.” Those people can even make shit infinitely classier.

I only recent realized what a Dutch oven is. I had just been calling it what it is: a pot with a lid. Why does it need some special name? It’s just a container, like every other pot.

I have a sinking feeling the Eagles will keep Andy Reid on next season. I wonder if they’re firing all the rest of the staff so Jeff Lurie can say, “Andy didn’t have the right coaching staff but with new people in place, we’re confident he can win next year.” If this happens, I expect to look toward Philadelphia and see the horizon burning.