...I've got a barrel and a rifle!
This week has been noteworthy for the posts I didn't write. Sometimes, it's just way too easy. Like the invitation I received from Date Lab that misspelled my last name (S-T-A-M-E-Y, people!). The obvious form letter told me they would allot $125, pick a restaurant and "wait for sparks to fly." As my friend Sudhir pointed out, this must mean they're hooking me up with a blacksmith or a welder. (No, I'm not doing Date Lab, mostly because the idea of getting paid to go on a date makes me feel like Deborah Jeane Palfrey's Employee of the Month.)
The Date Lab legal release is another fish-meet-barrel essay. It incoherently informs me that my participation may expose me to public ridicule. This would totally be my fault because the Post doesn't have to adhere to standards of ethical journalism or balanced reporting or anything silly like that. It's a hoot, but not quite as fun as the Amazing Race release. That one says that if you get decapitated or eaten by cannibals, the dog ate their homework and a temp must have been answering phones that day.
The third fish in the barrel is the guy in the bar who asked if he could "throw my cat" in the washroom. As I am no longer hip to the lingo, it took me a while to figure out that we were NOT talking about an actual feline. I could devote an entire blog to That Guy, The King of That Guys.
The fourth fish is my torrid and occasionally unfortunate love affair with bourbon. The fifth is my new haircut, the sixth is my hatred of BlackBerrys and all things beepy and shiny, and the seventh is my formula for winding up in the BlogLog.
So, instead I'm being coy. Have a great weekend, folks.
P.S. Didja get what "throw the cat" means yet? Good. If you're ready to douse yourself in bleach, the line forms to the right.