The more I think about it, the more I want to wear an eyepatch.
Before you say anything, get that whole black-pirate styled eyepatch visual out of your head. I’m talking about wearing a fashionable, smart-looking, eye-protecting, mystery-driving, fad starting, alluring, sexy, peripheral-vision reducing, half-in-the-dark causing eye patch on my eye.
I think it would really change my life for the better.
First and foremost, let’s get away from the whole “a rabid animal gnawed out my eyeball and that’s why I’m wearing a black eye patch” scenario. That only happens in storybooks and parts of town where the zoo that tortures their animals by day doesn’t lock the cages at night. Sure, there are people who wear them because they have lazy eyes (to which I say, take a shower, shave, and go “look” for a job) and people who have some awkward vision ailment — but once again I am not talking about these scenarios.
Some of you know him as the T-1000.
Others know him as the father to Johnny Cash, or a
convict stuck up there at Shawshank member of the X-Files team. Others know him as Ray Carter, Mister Lisp and (uncredited) FBI Agent.
I know him as Robert Patrick — and the guy is one noisy wheat grass drinker.
I don’t know what the deal with my luck is, as of late, but it seems that no matter where I go I am running into celebrities going about their day to day business. Tonight was no different as I sauntered (yes I saunter) into the Studio City, CA Jamba Juice where Mr. Patrick was already paying for his grub.
Did you see the title of the post up there?
If you didn’t, I would like to let you know that the title of this post is I Like You, I Really Do and no, that doesn’t refer to the collective “you” but it actually refers to the singular “you” — meaning that if you are reading this post right now and you are digesting the words contained herein, that you should know that it is you, not them who I really like.
I do. I really do.
Let me first start by saying that I am the king of creating new sayings.
I have worked long and hard over the course of my life to create new sayings for the world that will stick. I don’t just look for the “Wasssssssssuppp!” sayings that are, let’s be honest, a tad mindless. I look to creating new sayings that will shape our lives and add meaning to who we are and what we do.
That’s where “bed of shred” comes into the picture.
How often are you making a cheeseburger (and you love cheese) and you put that cheeseburger on a bun or on a plate and you think to yourself about how depressing it is that there’s only cheese on the bottom? How often have you tried to troubleshoot the melting of two slices of cheese, on each side, while barbecuing?
Apparently John Tesh loves his cell phone.
While out and about yesterday in the San Fernando Valley, I found myself in a Cingular cell phone store, gearing up to abandon my current cell for a brand spanking-new one. But more important than the shiny new technology and the pre-cancerous cells that are already in my skull no thanks to cell technology was the fact that uber-singer (and hubby to Connie Selleca) John Tesh came in to “hang out” in the store.
And let me tell you — he is nuts over his cell phone.