Charades fucking rock! Watching three brave young men try to get �Al Jurgenson� as TJ�s up there furiously acting out �Jesus Built My Hotrod.� Yes. The key to good charades is coming up with things they know but will have an impossible time acting out. I was amazed when they got JAG. It was hot. The Odyssey. Tony Blair. Singles. It was a blast.

So now I sit in my post-turkey hangover, trying to keep my foot elevated (I dropped the top of my super-slick but muy peligroso hard wood garbage can on my toe on toosdee and though I did not break it, it kills. Not as bad as it did). I am watching bad television and developing new pet peeves every few minutes.

Pet peeve of the moment: when there�s a musician character on tv and the writer feels it necessary to make all sorts of music references in the dialog, as if musicians talk about NOTHING other than music and relate everything back to musical theory. For example, Lyle Lovett is on Dharma and Greg right now and when Dharma asks him if he sleeps well he says, �like a bass player.� Another example is on Law & Order when they had modeled this story after a sort of Kurt Cobain Courtney Love Heroin Death Pact scenario and one of the band members says, �They just struck a perfect chord.� I hate that shit. This pet peeve fits snugly and flush with my last pet peeve which was when movies and tv shows set in times other than this one break the story and continuity by drawing attention to said time difference and the leaps we�ve grown technologically since then. Example: in Almost Famous when he�s all, �it�s called a fax machine. It sends four pages an hour over the phone line.� I hate that shit too. This is why That 80�s Show was flushed before the poop was in the can. It was one big walking bullshit, �hey, this is the eighties!� with giant sunglasses and Rubik�s cubes. And the tried and true 70�s Show works because the characters are decently developed, instead of just pawns to wear decade-appropriate clothes and say stoopit shit.

But Ask This Old House never fails to deliver the good.

I can�t write. I feel like a block of cement. I feel like my favorite magnetic poem: I steam like a crap in the ocean.

I am sorry to be such a bore. I never update and when I do I fail to deliver the good. I am not quaffing the fresh. Unfunny and mundane. I will work on these unforgivable character flaws.

And Amelia is noisily cleaning her anus way too close to me.

Promise me you�ll never watch Elimidate. PROMISE ME!!! If I thought I steamed like a crap in the ocean before, I didn�t know what true steaming could be until I laid eyes upon the three cattiest bitches in New York City. The Catty is directly proportionate to The Facial Grease.

I am going to go buy stuff at speigel.com.

Oh, one more thing�I was thinking that for Christmas I would make a cheesy video of my home, as a goof, dressed like a tarted-up society tool. See, I found it very creepy and gross that Patsy Ramsey made a video of their home for the holidays, to give to her husband�s employees and whatnot, all �if I could bring a little joy into their meager little lives� style, and I always remember it and sneer at it. Especially the part where she�s in JonBenet�s room: �JonBenet told me it is the room she has always dreamed of.� Isn�t that the weirdest thing you�ve ever heard? Because the truth is, it is the bedroom Patsy has always dreamed of. JonBenet lived in that room her whole life, all five years or whatever of it�so when, exactly, was she dreaming about the room? She was dreaming about the room while she was sleeping in the room? I don�t think so! Anyway, I�d like don some finery and get into weird character and do a tour of my vast expanse of 1300-square-foot worker�s cottage. �Tigger and Amelia told me it�s the window seat they�ve always dreamed of.� Here�s a pretty interesting site that analyzes the Ramseys� handwriting. And for we lovers of dark humor (Pitty, you gonna love this, and it might come near The Toolbox wrapping paper) how about writing our your Christmas cards with the Ramsey Font?