A Felon with a Pretty Face


Jeremy Meeks.

Jeremy Meeks

Unabomber, Ted Kazinski

Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski

If you don’t recognize that name or face, you don’t own a TV, read the newspaper, have a computer or listen to the radio. That means you’re most likely a hermit living in a cabin in the mountains of Minnesota. Does Minnesota have mountains?  If so, that’s probably where you’re living – sort of like the Unabomber except with essentials: an espresso machine, See’s milk chocolate chews and Crest Extra Whitening Toothpaste. After all, you’re not a barbarian, just uninformed. Now back to Jeremy… Continue reading

Honesty is Still the Best Policy

When I was 7-years-old, I stole a piece of Bazooka bubble gum  while at our neighborhood store, Littleman’s Market. The gum was sitting near the checkout counter, just calling my name. So I put one in my pocket. Bazooka gum with comicOn the walk home with my dad, I retrieved the gum and popped it in my mouth. I was smacking away, like 7-year-olds do, when my dad asked me where I got it. “At the store,” I calmly answered. “Did you pay for it?” I could tell by his voice he wasn’t happy with me and I shook my head in reply. Continue reading

What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger (Yeah, Right)

Due to the holiday, and a tiny little problem (which is that I didn’t get around to writing my Sunday blog), I’m re-posting this one from last year. If you already read it, but are anything like yours truly and have a bad memory, just pretend it’s a new one. It works for me…

As promised in last week’s blog, I have now included Pilates classes in my mission to get into shape, whatever that may mean.

Just kill me now

Just kill me now

In my case, it means getting rid of my Kangaroo pouch, developing long-lost muscles and eliminating about a million cellulite cells. (They don’t call me thunder thighs for nothin’, you know.) I think I may have a shot at the first two, but I’m not too optimistic about that last one. Continue reading

Just Gotta Scoot

I tell ya, I’ve gotscooter maniaLast week I blogged about my new scooter, Bruce, immediately renamed Mario when my friend Sue said I simply can’t name an Italian scooter Bruce.

Meet Mario - if my scooter was a man

How I envision Mario

So anyway, Mario and I have already ridden 188 glorious miles together. And what a cheap date… just $6 in gas takes us 100 miles.

The real Mario

The actual Mario

Continue reading