My "Lite" Version of This Week's News Headlines

So I guess by now, you guys realize that I’m nothing if not thorough. I will continue on my quest to tell you about things that are going on in the world that some of you with actual lives may not have time to read or hear about otherwise. So, here’s a brief outline of this week’s leading headlines. For those of you on a tight schedule, you will be happy to know that I have only listed the most important news and given just a brief outline of the story to save you, my dear reader, your most important natural resource—time. Think of me as your national news source with the extra calories removed.

Today I learned something totally out of left field. As of April 6, Pizza Hut is going to start serving pasta! I know, I know. I couldn’t believe it either. It seems that they are going to be spending millions of dollars on what I’m sure will be a brilliant ad campaign to promote their new pasta dishes—all two of them as far as I can tell. Excuse me, but it seems I remember ordering some lasagna in a Pizza Hut about two years ago. I know I’m not an expert so I called my friend Michelle, who is full-blooded, grandmother straight off of the boat Italian. She confirmed my suspicions that lasagna is indeed a pasta dish. If I think a little harder, I believe I also remember a colleague of mine ordering some spaghetti from a Pizza Hut during a business luncheon once long ago. Again, Michelle tells me this is indeed a pasta dish as well. It seems Pizza Hut has thought this idea out so well that they are actually going to market their new pasta dishes in pans that will fit perfectly into those big red pizza pouches they currently carry around to make sure you remember your pizza was never frozen—despite what the temperature makes you believe anyway. Maybe they can even put their new pastas into a pan with one of those cardboard coverings just like the pizza. That way all the cheese on top will stick to the lid, and it will be just like ordering a regular pizza. But, alas, I digress. Oh my, how could I have left out the best part? It seems that they are so confident about their little pasta plan that their Chief Marketing Officer actually said, out loud even, that they would consider changing their name to Pasta Hut if their idea is a hit. Trust me. Even I couldn’t make up stuff this gooey. (No pun intended.) Really. Try Google, and you’ll see. I give my readers nothing but the truth—at least as I see it anyway. So far, not one of the other pizza chains has elected to compete with Pizza Hut's plans. Hmmm, you don't say?

Now, let’s talk about the really big news of the week. Ladies, lock up your husbands—the twins are on the loose. It seems Pamela Anderson is once again an unmarried woman. That’s right. She’s on the move and possibly searching for another Mr. Right. This poor woman certainly has had bad luck when it comes to marriages. As for weddings, I hear she’s quite the planner. I believe after her beach marriage in Cancun to rocker Tommy Lee while decked out in a white bikini, she actually married him again in something like three more ceremonies. Some of them were apparently quite lavish. It seems that in one of them, Tommy was actually decked out in a real metal Prince Charming outfit. She must have some kind of mystical powers to con a macho rocker dude like Tommy Lee into donning that stupid outfit—especially since they were already legally married. And, let us not forget her next rocker dude, Kid Rock, or as she liked to call him—Bob. He was the second man betrothed to Ms. Anderson. But even Pet Rock fell victim to her spell and went through several lavish weddings to her as well. At that point, I felt that possibly she didn’t want to be married; she just wanted to be the center of attention at the wedding, and this was the only plan she could come up with that would make that scheme work. And then we come to the most recent Mr. Pam Anderson. It seems from what I’ve been able to uncover through the most thorough use of my investigative reporting skills, Rick Salomon and Ms. Anderson had been friends for about fifteen years. One night while gambling together in Las Vegas, Ms. Anderson excused herself for a quick potty break while apparently one of her goons continued to place bets for her at the poker table. When she returned, it seems she was indebted to Mr. Salomon to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars. What was a poor unemployed girl to do? Being the gentlemen he was, Mr. Salomon agreed to forgive the debt for a kiss. Oh, how sweet! Well, apparently the one little kiss led to another and another and, well, you can only imagine what that led to without me having to tell you. Let’s just say that after the two were engaged, Ms. Anderson was quoted as saying, “I paid off a poker debt with sexual favors, and I fell in love. It’s so romantic.” Yeah, about as romantic as hearing that Jimmy Swaggart rolled up upon a street whore and then tried to serve her up to his masses as the new Mrs. It seems to me that Ms. Anderson has just owned up to the world’s oldest profession, but who am I to judge? Again, please don’t ask. Even I couldn’t make up stuff this stupid. Needless to say, after hearing this dreamy story, I know it’s probably hard for you to believe that after only about sixty-eight days of wedded bliss (well, I might be a few days off), the two separated. You know the one thing that really galls me about this whole story is that, after appearing on a gazillion Playboy covers, this lady actually wore a white bikini to her first wedding. How gauche! I guess the only good thing she could say about this marriage is that her tryst did not turn up on the Internet, as did the one with rocker Bret Michaels, or the one with first husband Tommy Lee or Mr. Salomon’s soiree with one Paris Hilton—well, at least not yet anyway. God, does everyone except me own a camcorder?

Now it’s time for my oh so brief business news. I have really put a lot of time and energy into investigating my stock tip of the week. I don’t want you, my loyal reader, to think I just pull somebody’s name out of a hat without thinking long and hard about it. So, without further ado, my insider tip of the week is, drumroll please, ConAgra Foods. I must admit this was an easy decision. While they are the manufacturers of Pam®, they can really use this week’s headlines to remind people that nothing sticks with Pam®--not even marriage. Good luck with the market. Until next time my dear reader………

A British American Idol in (the money) Wonderland

Yes, I watch American Idol. There, I said it. Now the whole world knows. I will not, however, be made to feel ashamed. Just because I have the time to watch all four or five episodes on each week does not mean I don’t have a life. I just believe it happens to be a good show, and it is a very good value for your entertainment dollar when you consider it’s on a network station that can be picked up on any old TV by using some old rabbit ears wrapped in aluminum foil instead of one of those hoity toity channels that you can only get through cable, satellite or pay through the nose (AKA pay per view) broadcasts.

What I don’t understand is how is it garnering such gargantuan ratings? Any time I’m trying to shoot the breeze with someone I don’t know, like on a plane, train, or subway, I have yet to meet anyone who watches the show. This was a subject I thought everyone was talking about, but it’s simply not true! That’s when I decided to do some investigating. The other evening while watching the show, they introduced a new segment that allows viewers to actually call in live during the show and ask questions. Soon thereafter, Ryan Seacrest (the host of the show for the millions of you who don’t watch) had a plethora of calls from which to choose to air from bazillions of callers dialing in to the show. So I wondered, where are these people hiding every time I’m trying to cook up some idle chit chat with a total stranger? I finally realized the answer was—don’t let this get out—they’re in the closet.

By calling in to the show, these "non-watchers" could remain anonymous and thereby carry on with their deceitful techniques by acting as if they're oblivious to the whole boob tube phenomenon that is American Idol. Ask them to their face, and then it becomes another story. Why are all these people so mortified to admit they watch American Idol? I'm thinking that it's partly because they think making fun of the show is much more in vogue than actually watching it. And then there's also the possibility that some men out there have heard some blatantly vicious rumors and thought that perhaps some of the contestants were infectious to their manhood. I acknowledge I can think of an array of reasons to watch, but I’m going to remain stupified as to the reasons people won’t admit they watch it--except for one glaring exception. Now, I don't mean to be rude, so I won't divuldge whom--I mean what I'm talking about.

But, while I’m on this subject, I had another revelation hit me during this same show. It seems that out of all the questions this one caller could have asked, they only wanted to know why Simon Cowell (again for those of you who don’t know, he is the British bloke of a judge who is perpetually decked either in gray or black with the acerbic tongue and malicious wit) spent one million dollars recently on a car, but he wouldn’t spend any money on his wardrobe. I couldn’t believe it! Had I known about that purchase, that would have been the exact same question I would have wanted answered if only I could have gotten past that pesky busy signal. Gosh, it’s a small world.

Again, I decided to do some investigating of my own and find out about this car. This is always the way gossip gets started, and the next thing you know everyone believes it. Anyway, as it turns out, the car he allegedly purchased was made by Volkswagen. Big deal! I was happy to know that the forty-something million dollars he is paid by the show each year hadn’t went to his head and turned him into some sort of spendthrift. So then I thought I’d take a look at this Volkswagen and just see how truly economical it really was in comparison to what some people were probably already thinking.

I was surprised to find out a few things I didn’t know. Volkswagen makes a lot more models than just the Beetle and the Jetta. It seems they also make a model called the Bugatti Veyron. Don’t ask me if that’s German for excessively exorbitant, but if it isn’t it should be. And, just to show you I’m not making up words as I go along, I am adding a picture of this little “economy car” to prove it. Let me let you in on a few points of interest on this little gem of a vehicle.

• 1001 hp
• 922 lb-ft of torque
• Sixteen cylinders, sixty-four valves
• Four turbochargers
• 253 mph top speed
• 0 to 62 in 2.5 seconds
• 0 to 124 mph in 7.3 seconds
• 0-186 mph in 16.7 seconds
• Fastest car on the road today
• Prices start at $1.3 million

Yes, I know what you're thinking. It doesn't sound as economical as it did a few minutes ago. Oh, and I left the best part for last. If this clunker is actually driven at its maximum speed, you will literally run out of gas (excuse me, petrol for you Simon) every twelve minutes. I guess now we all know where he's spending his forty-something million. Here in America, we have a lot of rich celebrities "going green" and driving cars way beneath their means in order to keep pollution down. But I guess those stiff Brits think differently. I say let Simon take his $1.3 million gas guzzler back over across the pond to Great Britain where he can drive as fast as he wants to on the wrong side of the road. Very soon, London's air will be as polluted as the Thames River. As for the vacancy on American Idol, I too can be mean. I also possess an acerbic tongue and malicious wit. Best of all though, I'll do his job for only half of what they're paying him, and my used Yugo gets me around quite nicely, thanks. Feel free to contact me for an interview.

For Your (well women's) Eyes Only

Well, ladies, it finally happened. We all know that one day the inevitable is coming, but it always comes sooner than you think--or at least that's what people who've been there have told me. I guess after the last couple of days, I can now be added to that list. OK, come on. You all know what I'm talking about. It's always on a day when you feel you're looking your best with your femininity radiating throughout your aura as if people should wear shades. And then--it happens. WHOP! It's as if you've been slapped in the face. You've been pulled over on the highway, and you can no longer gather up enough feminine wiles to talk yourself out of a speeding ticket. Suddenly, I feel fifteen years older than I did a week ago. I guess you could say I'm in my post-ticket mourning stage.

OK, girls, it's just you and I here so let's get real. We've all known for years that women are better drivers than men. It's been proven. Look at insurance premiums. Men's are always higher. Why? Well, obviously, it's because they get more tickets and cause more accidents. Well, I think it's high time we face the truth. Men were never taught the art of hair flinging, eyelash batting or smiling until your face hurts. These are skills passed on to us by our mothers. Sons missed out because their fathers were equally unaware. Let's face it. Have you ever heard a man bragging because they flirted their way out of a ticket? The answer is a resounding NO. It's not that men don't know how to flirt, it's just that most people writing the tickets are other men. Also, women officers are fully aware of "ticket body language" and know it's only a woman thing. Men will never, ever be able to master this skill, and any male getting caught by a female officer trying to attempt this women's-only feat will probably be led away in cuffs.

Now I guess it's time I apologize to all womankind. I failed at my last effort of effective ticket talking. But, let me point out a few things on my own behalf that may have thrown me off of my rhythm before you vote me out of the feminine clique. First, I'm 44-years-old and have successfully used the "technique" since I was 15. My best guess is that I have been successful on approximately 20 different occasions. This particular time I had my husband in the car. STRIKE ONE! I know, I know. You can never have a man in the car and be expected to use the move with any success. Also, my husband and I were driving in the middle of the night half way across country, and I was dressed for comfort--not for the move. STRIKE TWO! Next, the Arkansas Trooper who pulled me over must have been born before the Jurassic era. He was old, bald and had but a few teeth left. Anything affected on him by feminine wiles had long since dried up and possibly blown away. STRIKE THREE!

There you have it ladies. The worst day of my life. I felt I should share this experience as all of you will one day have to live through it as I did. Also, I felt I owed it to all of womankind to pass along any information and tips you may have learned from my lesson to maybe one day help yourself. Let us not hang our heads low for long, however. As long as we keep paying it forward to our daughters, this world will long know the fact that women are better drivers as well as the most brilliant of the two species.

Daylight Saving Time, already?

God, is it that time already? It seems we just set our clocks back one hour, and now it's time to move them forward again. Yes, it's Daylight Saving Time--not Daylight Savings Time--as most people refer to it. I don't know about you, but I loathe playing the ol' switcheroo with the clocks. When you set the clocks forward an hour, people think you have an extra hour of daylight. Hello???? You have the same amount of daylight hours, just at a different time of the day. While most people work a 9 to 5 job, you end up awakening prior to sunrise and leaving for work in the dark. Hell, even a rooster knows not to crow until he sees the sun coming up, but we poor working stiffs are too stupid and get out of bed anyway.

Then there's the issue of spring ahead, fall back. Well it seems this year, it's winter ahead, fall back. That doesn't have as interesting of a ring to it, does it? Yes indeed, they have extended daylight saving time by four weeks beginning this year. We will set our clocks forward a full three weeks ahead of last year and turn them back a week later. Just exactly what government agency are we paying to sit around and make this stuff up? Is there an actual Daylight Saving Time department, or do we just let, oh let's say, the Department of Energy think about this during their slow periods. I'm not trying to pick on the Energy Department, but the cheerleaders for the time clock game believe we save energy by using it. In their minds, we don't turn our lights on until an hour later in the day. Of course, we have them on an hour earlier in the morning just to see to get out of bed.

Others note that the statistics for car crashes goes down with Daylight Saving Time. Well, perhaps the statistics for later in the day car crashes are decreased, but what about the additional wrecks in the morning while we are all driving to work with one eyeball open in pitch black darkness still trying to figure out where to stop and get our first cup of caffeine to wake our tired butts up?

I say if Daylight Saving Time is such a great thing, why don't we just move the clocks ahead an hour and leave them there? Has anyone ever thought about that? If all of these wonderful things are happening by making me get my lazy ass up an hour earlier, why change them back at all? Unfortunately, I've yet to find anyone who can answer this question.

In the meantime, and until someone who is a night owl like myself changes the law, we will all have to continue to deal with it--unless of course you live in either Hawaii or Arizona who have chosen not to participate in this utter nonsense. Hmmm, interesting. Two states who are at the top of the sunshine and heat list, and they don't want any more. Maybe too much of a good thing isn't great after all. Then again, I'm willing to play the guinea pig just to find out. Any Realtors out there who'd like to find me a nice condominium in Honolulu or Phoenix?

Dr. Wal Mart, I Presume?

Yes, I know there are a lot of people out there who won't believe it if you haven't heard about it already, but Wal Mart has decided to dive into the ultra-lucrative medical field. Mind you, I have never asked anything of their pharmacists, well perhaps maybe what aisle Band Aids were on, and I certainly can't imagine being a patient at one of their new "health clinics"--located, surprise!, conveniently inside your local Wal Mart.

For those of you who think I'm making this up, please click on this link or paste it into your web browser: http://video.msn.com/video.aspx?mkt=en-US&brand=&vid=e2f0d09a-84bf-491e-838a-2a29c5929fd4 to watch the video. You'll see that I'm not just blowing smoke.

If you want to do any further investigation into this matter, other than watching the video you just watched, there are plenty of places in which to turn. However, since this is my space, my time, my thoughts and as long as I'm protected by the First Amendment (thank God), I'm going to report things as I see them.

Currently, there are approximately 400 of these health clinics operating across the United States in locations such as Wal Mart, Walgreen's and CVS Pharmacies. Projections are that we will see that number climb to about 1,500 by the end of the year. Wal Mart hopes to open at least 5,000 of them over the next five years. I don't know about you, but I would prefer to see the same doctor each time I make an appointment. I don't think wanting a little continuity in my physicians is an unrealistic expectation. I really don't foresee that being the case in these health clinics.

From what I can determine, these health clinics will be operated by mostly physician's assistants and nurses who are being overseen by real doctors. I've heard the ratio currently is one doctor supervising as many as 60 assistants and nurses. That statistic alone is a big enough crack in which one can foresee a system ripe full of potential malpractice suits and misdiagnoses.

Where are these assistants and nurses coming from you ask? Wal Mart is actually contracting with local hospitals in each location's area to provide them. The name of this joint venture will be known as "Clinic at Wal Mart" followed by the name of the hospital.

I'm sure there are some of you out there who will view these clinics as a breath of fresh air and a kick in the pants to their primary care physicians' butts for the dent it will be putting in their wallets. Sure, because of Wal Mart's success in rural parts of the country and smaller towns, it may turn out that residents of these areas will have access to better health care than they have been receiving or, at the very least, will not have to drive to a larger city to obtain proper health care.

There are also those who believe that these clinics will be a blessing to the millions of Americans who do not have health insurance. Clients reporting to these clinics will know up front the cost of the care they will be receiving instead of being slapped with an enormous bill on their way out in which they immediately realize their children will be eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches all week.

So, as you can see, this issue has not proven its effectiveness or lack thereof as yet. I assume only time will tell--although Wal Mart certainly has a reputation for having the Midas touch. All we can do is hope for the best, expect the worst and wait. Then we'll all have the opportunity to make the right decision based on our own circumstances.

I can't help but follow up this serious discussion with a little humor. This is a joke that was told to me several years ago--long before Wal Mart ever thought of entering the medical field. Yes, it is an old joke, but if you haven't heard it, it's not only hilarious but definitely pertinent to this posting. It goes something like this:

One day, in line at the company cafeteria, Joe says to Mike behind him, "My elbow hurts like shit. I guess I had better see a doctor."

"Listen, you don't have to spend that kind of money," Mike replied. "There's a diagnostic computer down at Wal Mart. Just give it a urine sample, and the computer will tell you what's wrong and what to do about it. It takes ten seconds and costs ten dollars....a lot cheaper than going to a doctor. "

So Joe deposited a urine sample into a small jar and took it to Wal Mart. He deposited ten dollars, and the computer lit up and asked for the urine sample. He poured the sample into the slot and waited. Ten seconds later, the computer ejected a printout reading: "You have tennis elbow. Soak your arm in warm water and avoid heavy activity. It will improve in two weeks. Thank you for shopping at Wal Mart."

That evening while thinking about how amazing this new technology was, Joe began to wonder if the computer could be fooled. He quickly mixed some tap water, a stool sample from his dog, urine samples from his wife and daughter and a sperm sample for good measure and hurried back to Wal Mart, eager to check the results. He deposited his ten dollars, poured in his concoction and awaited the results.

The computer printed out the following:

• Your tap water is too hard. Get a water softener. (Aisle 9)
• Your dog has ringworm. Bathe him with an anti-fungal shampoo. (Aisle 7)
• Your daughter has a cocaine habit. Get her into rehab.
• Your wife is pregnant. Twins. They aren't yours. Get a lawyer.
• If you don't stop playing with yourself, your elbow will never get any better
• Thank you for shopping at Wal Mart.

Hmmm, now I'm starting to wonder if this is where the concept of "Clinic at Wal Mart" had its origins.

Tune in next time for the latest installment of the rantings of a bored housewife.

Some Fine Examples For the Ages

Several stories reported to me by a friend who was an international reservations agent at a major car rental company used to have me rolling on the floor with tales of people who could afford to travel abroad, yet simply had no common sense whatsoever. The following are just a couple of samples of the ignorance in which she was forced to endure all while earning a mere fraction of the pay the people with whom she spoke were earning and were traveling all over the world. I hope you find as much humor in them as I did.

1. 
   
   Recalling a conversation she had with a Canadian traveler going to Mexico, the call went something like this. Although the caller had only two people traveling, she was insistent upon renting a mini van of some sort. After being quoted a price, the caller was aghast as to the rental fees charged there as opposed to Canada. My friend did her best to advise the caller that rental charges can vary drastically between countries based on the ability to obtain the vehicles, the laws of that country and more. When my friend remembered the caller only had two people traveling, she suggested that perhaps a smaller vehicle would be sufficient for her needs. The caller responded by stating that she needed the extra space, not because of excess luggage mind you, but because she and her husband were taking their television with them on the plane and into Mexico. Of course, my friend could not resist asking why someone would want to haul a very large (caller's quote, not an embellishment) television all the way to Mexico on vacation, the caller replied that she was French-Canadian and did not speak any Spanish. By taking her own TV from Canada, she would be able to watch her French channels from Quebec at night while she and her husband went to bed.


2. 
   
   One of my all time favorite calls as told about to me by my friend started with her answering the phone and speaking with another reservations agent from a major airline. The airline agent was reserving a vehicle for himself and while waiting for answers to his questions brought up the fact that he bet my friend had taken a lot of strange calls in her days on the job. She immediately confirmed this, and he then challenged her to a "dumbest customer ever" story. His story went something like this. A lady traveling to Paris, France for the first time was reserving a seat on his airline. After every single question he asked of the lady, she would immediately answer it followed by the line, "and don't give me a window seat." After asking several questions and hearing "don't give me a window seat", he assured the lady that he could guarantee her a seat on the aisle. While that seemed to calm her down, the agent couldn't help but wonder why she refused to fly next to the window but presumed it was from a fear of flying and not wanting to look out. When she finally realized she could be guaranteed a seat away from the window, the lady proclaimed, "Oh, good. I'm getting my hair done right before my flight, and I didn't want to sit by the window where the air coming in would blow my hair out of place."

I hope I have done two things for the all of two people who may read this--let them see the intelligence of some people, or lack thereof, and allowed them a few minutes to laugh aloud at the supreme idiocy of J. Q. Public.

Come back soon as I have plenty more items full of comical amusement to add to my blog.