Greg Brady wears Eddie Bauer

This weekend Tom and I went back to New York for a whirlwind weekend of marriages and whatnots. After my friend Nancy's wedding (yes, it was fantastic, congrats etc.) we checked out some places for our own and were shuttled off to JFK airport.

Fighting off a cold and a wicked hangover, I tucked myself into a corner of the JetBlue terminal and watched the remake of Amityville Horror on my ipod. Slightly distracted and looking at the Mets game I asked tom "Seriously, that's Greg Brady right?"


Standing near the desk in front of gate 5 ready to board a late night flight to Phoenix was this man. Well okay, add on about 15 years, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and a full on Eddie Bauer outfit. Okay, great, here is a complete B (maybe C) list celebrity hanging out at the airport on a Sunday evening. What the hell am I supposed to do with this except stare?

About 40 minutes later we were still sitting at the gate because airline transportation as a whole hates my guts and refuses to let me get back to Ohio despite the fact that I am ill, hungover, and tired as all hell. Barry, as I imagine he would tell me to call him if I actually talked to him, deplanes the aircraft along with the rest of the flyers and stands in front of me and steals my plane out from underneath my nose. (The Phoenix flight had to change planes therefore took the next available one, which was MINE, leaving myself and about 100 other people to wait another hour just to get back to crappy Columbus. so not worthit.)

None of this has a point really except for the fact that I got to stare at Greg Brady for a while and realized that he wears glasses, reads books purchased at the airport giftshop and has an affinity for natural fiber sweaters in really boring colors. He's not that tall, he is really not that cool, and it makes me really sad to realize that you can be on a television show for so many years that is such a popular culture reference, and then have to take a $49 red-eye flight on JetBlue while standing like cattle with other fliers. Only to get on the plane, plug in your headphones and have about eighty percent of the other passengers end up watching re-runs of the Brady Show on TV Land and keep glancing up towards your seat wondering what the hell happened. I cry a little tear for you Mr. Barry Williams.

I also realized that I will only ever see B or lower list celebrities in New York. Greg Brady now joins the ranks of Ted Danson, Corky (from Life Goes On), the little boy from Third Rock from the Sun on my personal list of celebrity sightings in New York. Next week, I'll inform you all of my run in with Eltan (the brother-in-law figure on the Cosby Show. You know, not the one in the Navy but the one that married Sondra and opened up a camping equipment and supply store? Yea, him. ) and our extended conversation on traditional architecture in Brooklyn.

Crappiest Blogger EVER

Yea, I suck at writing regularly. But my little timeline looked so sad without the month of October that I thought I would remind you all of how much I suck by writing a post filled with absolute nothingness. Not even ridiculous stories of tiny towns in one of my two places of (former) residence. Shocking, I know!

So I understand if you all hate me, we've all been there... I mean in hating people, not me specifically cause I'm wonderful. They don't hand out these little blogger accounts to just anyone you know. Okay, they do, and I was too lazy to even set up one myself, but you get the point.

Perhaps funny dramatic things will start happening to me again. I'm going to New York for a friend's wedding this weekend and just think of all the hilarity and cynicism that it can possibly be spawned! Wait, that would make me sad. It's supposed to be touching and sweet and filled with drunken revelery. (Maybe I have a really screwed vision of what a wedding is supposed to be since I can assure you that my own will fill probably only the last of those three details. Drunk? Check.)

All the same, don't give up hope. My bout of laziness and inspidness will come to an end, eventually.

Screech never was and never will be sexy

Dear Mr. Dustin Diamond,

Releasing your own sex tape will not get you more jobs. In fact, the thought alone repulses me. Mr. Belding would be one thing, but Screech? Eww, that's just gross. blegh.

Sincerely,
Vicky

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear God,

Please fire Dustin Diamond from life so he cant make anymore gross and pointless mvideos in a pathetic attempt to revive his nearly non-existent acting career.

Thanks,
Your friend,
Vicky

There's No Place Like Home

Steal to Gamble, Awesomeness!

When I read a little story like this it warms my heart so much. It makes moving to the Midwest a bit less of a struggle in my brain when I realize how moronic people can be back home in Long Island.

Seriously, if you are going to steal $2 million dollars, buy puppies and diamonds*, not scratch off lottery tickets dumbass.

*or save your money, but I like the idea of cute puppies bounding over a field of glistening gems, which invariably would end up cutting and scarring their tiny puppy paws with the sharp edges. Then the puppy blood would be spilled over the gems and semi-precious stones and the puppies might get weak and fall over and die.** But that is the only reason why this is not a good idea. only.

**Puppies should stay away from fields of gems and diamonds.

Don't even read me because I'm neither entertaining nor amusing

Today when I was sorting through my virtual electronic junk mail, I came across one piece that caught my eye. There was standing before me, the best name ever to be created by man. Now I am left with not other option but to adopt a child, or at the very least a dog or something, just so I can put this name into action immediately.

Juan Bacon.

Juan is fine, great in fact. Bacon from the likes of Francis, or Kevin. But put them together? Perhaps it was the mind-numbing work-induced boredom talking, but it was fantastic. okay, its not funny at all, shut up.

P.S.
If your name is Juan Bacon please let me know cause I'd like to you know, shake your hand, be pen pals and have your babies.

I told you so

Vicky calls out Manta Rays for being dumb animals just before one of its comrades goes and spears the somewhat innocent Steve Irwin.

Did I not tell you how wrong these animals are?

Yep, just honing my psychic powers, I'll let you know when another creepy ass animal will kill a quasi-celebrity in a freak accident, don't you worry.

Homesick, but not Really...

Get These Ninjas Out of Here

I am not sure what I love more:

The fact that a realtively legitimate publication* would report on such a ridiculous story
or
My pride in the fact that amusing crazy crap like this happens on Long Island as opposed to the cornucopia of rapes, murders and major crimes taking place in my new hometown.

• Columbus, OH: A person sets fire to a home as a family of 6 sleep soundly inside resultuing in a six-count homocide.
• Long Island, NY: A man quotes Star Wars as cops encircle his house and requests that ninjas leave his property resulting in none harmed.
  

*It is questionable if the New York Post is considered a legitmate publication. People refer to it as a newspaper, though I think that's only because "gossip rag based somewhat in reality" doesn't really roll off the tongue.