"Ain't nobody here but us dachshunds..."

A few observations slash opinions slash blatherings while I have a moment:

* I've been watching the first season of Hawaii Five-O ('twas one of my Father's Day gifts, don'tcha know). All I can say is, Steve McGarrett's the man. Or, at least, he was the man. Jack Lord died almost ten years ago, but his impact on pop culture will live on for ages.

* Roger Clemens isn't half the Rocket he used to be. But then the guy's in his mid-forties. Sure, he's still a decent pitcher, but he's far from dominant. Might be time for Roger to invest in a Rock(et)ing chair

* Heroes. 'Nuff said.

* Isaiah Washington is officially an idiot. That said, ABC should bring ol' Presto Burke back for one more episode of Grey's so that McDreamy can give him a lobotomy.

* Beware of The Blob -- says so right in the goofy-assed theme song of the 1958 Steve McQueen anti-classic. It wasn't really from outer space, though. Turns out it was just a big ball of silicon running amok. The same thing happens in stereo every time Pamela Anderson takes off her D cups.

* Oh, in case you're curious about the title of this rambling, let me introduce you to Maggie.

"You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far, 'cause you know it don't matter anyway..."

Guess again, sweetheart.

Poor little Miss Paris has been sent back to the slammer.

Boo-frickin-hoo, I says.

I can't think of one good reason to feel sorry for her. I suppose there's that little medical condition she has, which nobody will divulge and only seems to flare up when her identity is reduced to a number by the state of California.

Her medical problem doesn't seem to inhibit her from partying seven days a week, however.

So I guess that makes me a skeptic.

What this all boils down do is teaching the spoiled rotten one that she's not above the rest of us, and that perhaps, just perhaps, SHE should take responsibility for her own actions.

After all, the rest of us don't have publicists on the payroll that we can blame.

And besides, she shouldn't feel all that uncomfortable. A girl that parties that hard should be used to hanging around in bars.

"Hello, is there anybody in there, just nod if you can hear me..."

I haven't left, I just haven't been right.

But things are improving. The WORK-load is ebbing, and thanks to a little change of my status at my place of employ, I'm going to have more energy going forward.

So what have I been up to when I haven't been working, sleeping or working on sleeping? Not much, I have to admit.

To summarize, the patio in the back yard has been getting bigger... again. The basement has seen the littlest bit of work. And I could really use a haircut (I'm rapidly approaching lizard king territory).

But I suppose things could be worse. I could be a young Hollywood starlet with a substance abuse slash automobile abuse problem. My, how quiet things are with Paris in the slammer and Lindsey getting detoxed. It almost makes Hollyweird a little boring.

But then sooner or later everyone needs a break. Or, in the case of Mz. Hilton, a jailbreak.

In any case, here are some things that need to get the heck off my chest:

** Shrek the Third is no Shrek Previous, but it's got a moment or two worth a giggle. It's especially funny when Antonio Banderas' Puss makes an ass of himself.

** Some school bus drivers seem to think they're sitting on a throne. They take great offense when a car goes zipping through the flashing lights (which they should), but then some of them are so impatient to turn the damn things off and get moving that kids are getting left unprotected while crossing the street. Oughta be a ticket and fine for that, I says.

** Barry Bonds is still an asshole. I'm only saying this because it's been so long since he's hit a homer that some people might have forgotten what a charming fellow he can be.

** DVD must see -- if you missed it in theatres and you're embarrassed about the '80s, then you have to rent Music and Lyrics. It's worth it for the opening "music video" alone. That Hugh Grant is one hip (replacement) dude.

** Now I know why the New York Yankees give such large contracts -- hazard pay.

** I was watching the tube yesterday and I saw a commercial for Drumsticks -- the ice cream kind, not the KFC kind. This guy is talking to these two hotties about what kind of ice cream they want. He wants a Drumstick, they both want something else. That is, until he turns into a giant Drumstick. Deciding that he looks delicious, both girls attack him, at which point he says, "hey, easy on the nuts." I laughed myself silly for about five minutes.

** Speaking of nuts, CBS cancelled Jericho, and fans of the show responded by bombarding the networks offices with nuts. I didn't watch the program, so I don't really get it, but one would think that the show's fans are nuts and the network was probably nuts for cancelling the show in the first place. CBS wouldn't commit to renewing Jericho, but it did offer to rename one of its other shows Without A Trace of Nuts.

** Danica Patrick is a pretty good race car driver, but until she stops playing it safe and takes a chance or two, she'll never stand atop the podium. She just doesn't have the balls to win, so to speak.

That is all. Easy on the nuts. Tee hee...