What the....

Well thus endeth another season of Celebrity Apprentice, with some country singer I have never heard of until this show came on winning over Marlee Matlin. Kudos to John Rich for proving that country musicians are just as smart as anyone else (a fact I never questioned - see Trace Atkins from previous Celebrity Apprentice shows), but that many male country singers REFUSE to remove their stetson's. Must be the killer hat head or something. I mean come on now - do you sleep with it on too?

This is not the blog to recap the show - there are many others for that. Instead, a couple of random observations from the show.

- First off, what is the deal with Lisa Rinna's boobs? Literally every shot of the jury showed her fun bags in the background. You could not concentrate on anything anyone even said when all you saw was boob in the background. Heck, even my favourite fake boob person on this show Ivanka was jealous. Meat Loaf was crying over them. I was waiting for Trump to ask her boobs who he should fire.

- Where was Dionne Warwick? Now I am a child of the 60's and I love Three Dog Night. My mom played that "Joy to the World" LP (kids, these are those big round discs you had to play on a record player before tapes and CDs came into existence) endlessly. To see Dionne pull the me only stunt during the show put new meaning into her hit "One is the loneliest number" song. Then to not show up for the reunion. Unacceptable. Maybe she was helping care for Jose Canseco's mom.

Speaking of boobs again, anyone watch Survivor this past season? Maybe it was just me, but this season, I seemed to notice the camera angles of many scenes aimed at, how shall I say, naughty parts. Yes, we all saw Philips pink gonch. Erase that memory from my mind. But we also saw many upshots of the female hoo-haw from different angles. Butt shots, crotch shots, you name it. Yes there was always underwear to cover what would become an R-rated shot, but my gosh, I thought I was watching Girls Gone Wild - Survivor style.

Was I the only one who noticed this?

Wow, has it been that long?

OK, so I decided to take a nap back in November, then magically fell into this dream where I was an innkeeper for a cottage in Vermont, and there were these three brothers, two if which shared the same name...Darrel...

Enough of that. Anyone who did not recognize the above did not watch TV in the 80s, or was it 90s I dunno.

Well I am back, energized, ready, blog ready. I even watched a wealth of Celebrity Apprentice and Undercover Boss episodes, but we won't talk about that right now. Although Ivanka's boobs continue to mesmerize me.

I have one basic, somewhat rhetorical question. Who the heck brings their newborn kid to a playoff game, then complains that its too noisy? Maybe its just me, but perhaps the raucous crowd environment and crazed drunken behaviour is perhaps not the best setting for ensuring "bebe" can get some night-night time.

Chances are, these are the same people who decide to stand in the middle of the concourse to talk, despite the fact they have clogged access to thousands of drunken idiots wanting to take a leak - me excluded of course. I'm just saying.

Undercover Boss no more!

OK, I have officially had enough.

In earlier blogs, I wrote about the television show Undercover Boss, which at the time was a novel idea of disguising the President or CEO of a company and placing them into the lowest ranks of the organization, to see if he/she could actually do the front-line tasks they were expecting the peons to excel at.

Sort of a take on Michael Moore's idea of trying to get the CEO of IBM to come out in front of the office and format a disk (for you young-ins a disk is a thing you put computer data on, like a DVD today). Of course, since many of the executives they showed were unable to do the tasks in a timely fashion, if at all, watch the hijinks ensue. Some of these tasks included cleaning toilets, moving pallets of inventory, greeting customers etc. Great television, right?

Well the formula of the show is now a broken record:
- Show CEO in home environment - see them as great family people whilst relaxing in a lavish multi-zillion dollar estate. Put wife in apron while working 3 inch stilettos and no concept of where oven is. Replace family dog with TV poodle.
- Put funny moustache or hat on CEO and send to seedy hotel in the sticks. Show Tiger Woods sneaking around in the background. Oops, did I write that.
- Show CEO being assigned to extremely keen and uber-positive trainer, then failing at the most mundane tasks. Show trainer waving finger in shame.
- Show CEO going on extended 3 hour coffee or lunch break where CEO becomes corporate psychologists and asks trainer personal questions about their life. Listen to sob story. Change channels for 10 minutes
- Repeat last 2 steps at least 3 times. Insert clip of CEO back at seedy motel washing face with grungy facecloth which would normally not be used to clean gum off shoe. Show CEO running off camera to makeup room.
- Show trainers back at head office with CEO, acting completely stunned as CEO unveils ruse and offers lavish gifts.
- Show corporate event where fake office staff laugh at the hijinks which ensued in the ruse on big screen.
- Show extreme affection between CEO and trainers. Ensure contracts are signed beforehand to limit unlawful touching of subordinates.
- Ignore fact that lying and tricking employees during this television ruse is a complete violation of corporate values, and under normal circumstances, would result in termination.
- Show updates on screen of happiness and bliss which followed. No mention of share price fluctuations.
- Throw up.

Now I liked this show in the beginning, and I know these hardship cases are likely valid. I'm all for supporting the hardworking little people out to support their families. But the show formula never changed except for one episode with Hooters, where some line manager was an absolute chauvinist, and another with a distribution company where a customer service rep was rude (she is clearly the only one in North America).

Otherwise, every company was the same. Lots of hardship case employees who work hard and hope for a better life, but rarely say anything bad about their employers. Put up your hand if you cannot find someone in your company who might have something less than positive to say about management. It is like an infomercial for the company, but without Tom Vu or Billy Blanks and a bevy of skanks in the background.

I know its Sunday television, and I know its supposed to be feel good, but do you really think every company is this way? Or that none of the employees ever watch this show on television and catch onto the ruse as its happening. I am almost motivated to support Hooters, since they at least had the stones to allow their company to be slightly embarrassed. Since I hate their food, probably not, but kudos to you Hooters, for at least being real. Well at least some things are real at Hooters.

This is what happens when my friends go watch tennis....

Knock and Beware

I work for a big company, and as such, because of job and stature, have been provided an office. I like to think my hard work and great contributions resulted in the office being provided, although chances are everyone above data-entry person gets one here since we have a big building. Regardless I am the Donald Trump of my area, or so I tell people.

Every once in a while, I need to close the door to my office. Whether its to eat lunch, work on confidential projects, talk to someone on the phone, whatever the case. Everyone has their reasons.

What is perplexing to me is how often someone actually comes and knocks on the door even if it is closed. So lets think about this for a second. Door is open, people can come in and I can go out. Since my door is more often open than closed, its should be obvious that when its closed, privacy is required. Door is closed means do not disturb. If I wanted to be disturbed, I would not close the door.

I know, petty blog, but it baffles me how often this happens. And every time someone knocks on the door (which is almost daily), the first comment out of their mouth is "Sorry to bother you". No you're not. if you were sorry, you would not have knocked. Was I away the day they taught people that respecting people's privacy means respecting when a door is closed? Now if the building was on fire, or someone was injured, sure, knock on the door. Today, it was "can I borrow your stapler?" I guess everyone with open office doors do not have functioning staplers.

I think its time to be quiet now.

"9 TIMES, BABY"

I know people. Rusty is a bad blogger. Sadly, I am not very consistent in my posts, but when I post, I like to put some time into it. We've all seen blogs where it looks forced. Not me baby! I slave over my blog like I'm baking a cake, icing it perfectly, popping in the candles. OK, bad example for a dude, but you know what I mean.

So I went to the drive-in for the first time in years. The last drive-in I went to magically burned down due to a gas explosion in the plant next door, and that was at least 10 or more years ago. I seem to recall watching something with Catherine Zeta-Jones (who my Dad continues to describe as phhhheeeeennnnnommminaaaal) and Sean Connery (is he still alive?). It was a while ago for sure.

Its always fun to check out the retro snack bar, sit out in the fresh air, crimp your neck at strange angles and watch a few flicks. It was a triple-feature night, so theoretically, I could have stayed there for a week watching movies and eating stale unbuttered popcorn. Driving into the lot, I was pleasantly surprised to see the ground was not gravel, but rather actual grass and some semi-paved lanes. It was a hot night and a weekend to boot, so I knew it would be busy. Best to get there a bit early and find a nice spot where nobody else was parked - since I'm quiet and all you know.

Unbeknownst to me, this drive-in has an area for cars, and a bigger area for trucks, vans, planes etc. Dummy me heads to the back (since I'm a back of the bus kind of guy), resulting in being in the Winnebago and Partridge Family bus circa-1976 zone. And you know some yahoo with a monster sized truck was going to park in front of me. By the time I realized my error, all the small vehicle spots were full, so we sucked it up and tried to watch between the monster trucks.

I decided to line-up for food in a line-up the size of an American Idol audition. It was moving quick, but I did not anticipate the intriguing banter of the people around us. There were 3 teen-aged ladies in front of us. I put them at maybe 17. Somehow, their skuzzy 17 year old boyfriends got them to stand in line while they stayed back in the van to do homework or pray or something. So the ladies are chatting about the fun they had the night before, and the topic of intimacy comes up. I am by no means one of those sickos who eavesdrops, but it was hard not to hear as the larger of the girls (see fuller-figured) is tutoring the smaller girls on techniques, while resting her arms on the little girls shoulders. No joke!

I'm really trying hard at this point to not pay any more attention. I'm watching the stray dog taking a leak by the garbage can, the older couple with funny binoculars, anything to not hear this conversation. Then the larger girl bursts out with "9 TIMES BABY!," and I'm pretty sure she is not talking about arithmetic. "YOU'LL GET THERE TOO ONE DAY GIRLS!" she tells the little ones, all motherly. The littlest one, who resembled Winnie Cooper from the Winder years (left), ran back to the van, saying something about needing more money. For all I know, she was trying to catch-up. Who knew.

Working my way back through the parking lot maze, and I thought about was how I was clearly too introverted as a teenager to come across girls like the ones in line. Even the second-hand pot smoke and annoying moths could not change my thought process. Both movies sucked, and I will likely not rush back to the drive-in, but at least now I know how much it has changed.

Unusual Neighbours Continued...

Most recently, since I've moved into my not so new townhouse, I've had a couple of neighbours on one side and the same neighbour on the other. The couple who have been here with us the whole time seem quite nice. They have barricaded their backyards with tall trees, shrubbery and lattice fencing to ensure nobody, us included, can see in. I find this perfectly normal. They have a cute little terrier dog, who actually only barks when she is outside, so its nice for the most part. Either that, or he has insulated his walls on the inside to mask "Sparkie's" barking. The dog wants to be a rooster, so we can always tell when its time to wake up too which is an added bonus. We hardly talk, so being the quiet guy that I am, works great for me.

On the other side to me was a friendly elderly couple. We share "doors", meaning they can see our back door and vice-versa. Any time I'd come home, the husband would be outside watering his lawn or flora which adorned his townhouse. He was religious about watering, minimum 4 to 5 times per day, for multiple hours at a time. He would personally see to it that every plant on his yard, and all 6 neighbours, had plenty of watering done. If there was a chain-smoking for waterers, this guy was the winner. He was a German fellow, and his English was not great, but we could always tell his intentions, as he walked around everywhere with his water jug looking to feed some plant. We would snarl at me any time we did NOT water our lawn at the same time as him. When we looked across the backyards of all the tenants, you could always tell which yard was his - his grass was green, plush, consistent. The rest looked like typical yards with patches of green and brown, odd shaped divots etc. I called him the "Water Nazi", in a polite way of course.

The Water Nazi moved away (likely to some pasture somewhere which he could turn into Central Park), but his place was sold very quickly. I would learn that the new couple were also retirees, and the husband used to work for NATO. He would tell me crazy stories of espionage, hanging upside-down to retrieve prized gems, avoiding hidden laser beams....oh, that was Mission Impossible. Well that was what I was thinking, as he was telling he of his ventures to countries I've never heard of. But it was not his past career that makes him different. Nope, instead its that I think he's a peeping tom. He loves looking into our windows. Its kind of creepy. He's also one of those "always seems to be there" kind of people, meaning, the minute I go into the back yard, whammo, he comes out to chat. Now I can only talk for so long, especially if I'm BBQing or something, but he magically always pops up. I'd be driving into the garage, and there he is, waving. I go to pick up the newspaper, and he's there to hand it to me - ok not literally, but he's always out there. If I had higher fences, I would call him Wilson.

I have no idea why I get so many unique neighbours. Chances are as you are reading this, you might think that is perfectly normal. To me, living next to porn freaks, slutty sportscasters, wife beaters, water nazis, Fort Knox and Lookie-Lous is just another day too. I wonder what they all refer to me as?