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.