I Yam What I Yam

Menu card on the buffet table at our Christmas Day feast:


I passed. I had a hankering for the Painfully Shy, Evasive Sweet Potatoes.

Gopher Break

It was a lovely Christmas at our house. How could it not be when spent with our houseguest, my acting teacher and mentor, The Gopher from "Caddyshack."

With his kind help, I updated my dance moves. He can really tear up a rug. Later, we went outside and tore up the lawn.


Feline Security Morty, as you can see, sulks whenever we have company. He does not care for strangers burrowing through his litter box.

We need to do a Time Out with him about sharing.

Morty turned three this month and has become the alpha cat, replacing Kelp, who is sprawled in mandatory retirement at age 16.


In this photo, Morty checks Mr. Gopher for concealed weapons.


And here, the boys have become best of friends, relaxing, and watching Animal Planet. Morty TiVoed "Queer Eye for the Straight Stray."

::::: See Mr. Gopher: The Gopher Dance

Happy Noncommittal Generic Holidays, Everyone!

We're off to our whirling frenzy of celebrations with the family, after last minute shopping sprees at Mad Cow Burger Grease Warehouse and LintWorld. ("Look what I got you for Christmas, Timmy. Your very own burger grease. It's hours of congealing fun! Just like Mommy.")

I'm taking along the camera, so smile. Meanwhile, from 2002:

::::: Hairy Christmas | Photo Gallery: A Durrett Family Christmas

I Give and I Give

From the transcript of our picture perfect evening at the gala homestead, wrapping pricey presents and nogging eggs.

On the topic of Christmas gifts:

Mike: (Holding up the latest purchase) For my brother, Bob, I got this box of Kleenex.

Donna: Honey, I think it needs a little something extra to go with it.

Mike: It has Lotion.

This Just In...

One thing's for sure in the new year, I've got to do better. I've got to pay more attention to world events. It's vital. Did you hear the latest?

A few minutes ago, while shopping, I was stunned to read that big headline: "Choosy Moms Choose Jif."

Who knew? I wonder if there's reporting ever on TV? Maybe they've got pictures, surveillance or something.

I need to be held.

Woo Her Male

A Bob Walker of Wichita, Kansas, writes: "I wanted to buy a pager to impress the ladies ... [I] got a Glade clip-on.

"Women say, 'You're a dork, but you smell like mountain berries.'"

Little Orphan Mikey

I have to tell someone.

I'm Strom Thurmond's missing love child.

The evidence is irrefutable. The birthmark on my face pictures his milk carton.

And That Brings Up a Question...

This gentleman, Mr. T, that's his name. He's always billed as "Mr. T."

If I were to introduce Sylvester Stallone to an audience, I'd announce him as "Mr. Sylvester Stallone." Robert Redford, I'd introduce him as "Mr. Robert Redford." Denzel Washington, "Mr. Denzel Washington."

So, what about Mr. T? Should I introduce him as "Mr. T" or "Mr. Mr. T?"

I must admit, on occasion, I have referred to him as "Lord Mr. T," but there was always a comma involved.

Fun Flu Facts!

"Tylenol" spelled backwards is "Lonely T."

Ironically, the gurgling noise my sickly stomach made, "SUCARABEDUTITTADABABTREBLAOCSOBTGS," spelled backwards is "Sgt. Bosco Albert 'B.A./Bad Attitude' Baracus" -- the "A-Team" character once played by Mr. T, who was never lonelier than when he lost the fight in "Rocky III," which may explain why my sneeze blats don't "ah-choo," they "ah-ClubberLang!"

Pity me, fool!

Top 10 Hallucinations During My Flu-Induced Stupor

Ugh, I've been ill for a week. Last month's flu shot worked ... just ... great.

I'm back to normal except my hacking cough is opening for Rage Against the Machine.

Top 10 Hallucinations During My Flu-Induced Stupor

10. Mommy went by school and got my homework.

9. Pussycats make nice tea party guests.

8. Saddam found in a hole.

7. Sore throat would rather hold grudge than kiss and make up.

6. Pounding in my head won Best New Artist at Hip Hop Awards.

5. Favorite "Star Wars" character: Chewypepto-bismol.

4. Nausea is Nature's Alarm Clock. And, come to think of it, Nature's Hamilton Beach Smoothies & More 12 Speed Blender with Stir Stick.

3. Cold chills are Nature's way of saying, "Freeze, you miserable bastard! Die, you worthless son of a bitch! You're the coolest, Fonzie!"

2. Aunt Bee and Clara were stoned soul picnics.

And the number one hallucination during my flu-induced stupor ...

Being encased in phlegm is not so bad, once I figured how to sew the buttons on it.

And How Is Your Day?

I'm sitting here, minding my own business, and -- PING! -- I've got mail.

A Bob Walker of Wichita, Kansas writes: "May a weird construction worker dip Sacrete on your parakeet."

To which, always one with the hipster references, I reply: "May Ben Vereen tap dance on your Sizzlean."

To which, Bob replies: "Alrighty then ... May a day old bread truck back-fire mold on your sister."

To which, I reply: "May a leper waiter leave his thumb in your soup."

To which, Bob replies: "May a weird pirate leave a peg-leg in your chicken bucket."

To which, I reply: "May Paris Hilton eat your pillow mint."

To which, Bob replies: "May Michael Jackson snort your sitz bath."

To which, I reply: "May Michael Jackson dangle his baby over your lunch."

To which, Bob replies: "May Pee-wee Herman refreshen your [mayo] jar."

To which, I reply: "May Pee-Wee Herman dance the 'Tequila' on your worm."

To which, Bob replies: "May Barney the Dinosaur leave an unwanted relic on your teeter-totter."

To which, I reply: "May the ghost of Ed Norton plunge your grandmother."

Another Turkey Thursday

Word gets around fast on the Internet. Last week, I blogged about our turkeyless Thanksgiving dinner and only a few minutes ago, strange visitors appeared in the yard. They must figure our land is a safe haven.

Four of these guys dropped by. I guess they are turkeys. They don't look like the standard issue, none of those hangy neck thangs.

I thought they might like a meal, so I proceeded outside with some hard corn. The turkeys showed interest, but scurried away when I set down the bowl of gravy. Nobody has drinks with dinner anymore.

Mike Speaks!

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