And for $120, you can have one of these...

The ultra-hip, need-to-have accessory of the season - The Happy Trails Pet Stroller!

Hogan Knows Best

Yup. The gym again.

HKB isn't the riveting drool-inducer that Surreal Life is...it's definitely more of a momentary, "Hey! Look at that! It's that Hulk Hogan guy from TV wrestling!" I wasn't even moved to unplug myself from my CD player and plug into the TV sound, so I sort-of-watched part of an episode without benefit of closed captioning and while listening to hip hop.

I was able, however, to surmise a few things:

(1) Hulk's wife, Linda, is far more into him than he's into her. She never stopped touching him, trying to kiss on him or staring adoringly at him. He looked uncomfortable with the whole thing, and was obviously returning her affection only because she was forcing herself down his throat. Not something I would want immemorialized on film, but then I'm not married to a TV wrestler, so what do I know?

You can also tell from the picture that son Nick is a typical 15 year old who hates being around his family and daughter Brooke is a photo 'ho.

(2) The Hulkster does NOT like to be ridiculed. Despite her cloying adoration, Linda can be a little mean, too. As an anniversary project, she wanted the two of them to take ballroom dancing lessons. Hulk (very graciously, I thought) agreed to go to the local Arthur Murray studio. He was an absolute mess on the dance floor. More looking exceedingly uncomfortable. Instead of being sensitive to this, Linda decided to make fun of his technique. In a new signature move, the Hulkster ditched her on the dance floor and walked out.

(3) Hollywood Hulk Hogan can be a class act. He knows how to send roses to make up after a fight. He also knows how to make a bandanna look snappy with a tuxedo.

(4) Hulkamania doesn't stop with the Hulk...it extends to his daughter, Brooke's singing career. The Hulk knows what it takes to make it in show biz. And he's not ashamed to pimp out his daughter to get her a record deal. He doesn't like the idea of her having a boyfriend, but he's okay with taking her out in public dressed only in underwear.

(5) Brooke isn't nearly as busty as her mother. But she's a way bigger picture 'ho. And she's Daddy's Little Girl.

(6) People who can afford good furniture and good taste don't always buy it. The house is a gorgeous Tudor. Hulk obviously has some cash. But he didn't spend it inside. At least I hope he didn't. I know it can cost a lot of money to look tacky, but I'm going to go with "Linda didn't think she needed a designer. She decorated the whole place herself. I gave her unlimited credit at the nearest Target and Kohl's. You, too, can fix up your place to look just like the Hogan's house!"

I have discovered a new source of bottom-of-the-barrel entertainment.

IMDb (Internet Movie Database for those of you not "in the know") has a One Hundred Worst Movies Ever list. Who knew? Here I've been wasting my life with the traditional trial-and-error approach to finding bad movies when all I had to do was go to my trusty Internet sources and let my opinions be molded by the opinions of thousands of people I never have (or will) meet!

Since the weekend is coming up, I thought I'd share with you some of the movies you should NOT beating down Blockbuster's doors to be renting.

Number 1 on the list is 2006's "Phat Girlz" (which, I believe, opened and closed the same day...if not, it probably should have.)

Starring Mo'Nique of "The Parkers" fame, the movie tells the story of "an aspiring plus size fashion designer struggling to find love and acceptance."

Uh huh. Maybe it'll get her enough love and acceptance to land her on "The Surreal Life 7."

Second up is 1989's "Going Overboard" featuring Adam Sandler (in his first starring role) as Schecky Moskowitz (doing a good job of proving that he had a long way to go before making it to box office gold.) Seems that Schecky is a struggling young comedian who takes a menial job on a cruise ship where he hopes for his big chance to make it in the world of cruise ship comedy.

Okay...make it "big" in the world of "cruise ship comedy"? No wonder this movie bombed. Maybe he should have tried to make it "phat" in the world of cruise ship comedy.

Fifth on the list is a movie entitled "Santa with Muscles" made in the easily forgotten year of 1996 (aside from me getting sworn into the great State of New York's judicial system as an attorney, nothing interesting happened for me in 1996...oh no, wait a minute - that was the year I started work at Unnamed Government Agency. But other than those two things, it was a dull year.) It stars Hulk Hogan as an evil millionaire who suffers the overused plot device of getting amnesia and wakes up thinking he's Santa Claus.

Hulk would be guaranteed a spot on "Surreal Life 7" if he didn't already have a VH1 show called "Hogan Knows Best." (more on this later.)

Just easing out of the Top 10 at #11 (mainly due, I suspect, to the addition of "Phat Girlz")...Mariah Carey's 2001 entry, "Glitter".


The only thing better than reading about a celebrity's nervous breakdown in the tabloids while you're waiting in the checkout line is seeing it portrayed (far too convincingly) on screen.

The only one of the 100 movies I've actually seen (hooray for me for instinctively staying away from the worst of the worst!) is 1994's "It's Pat." And I gotta tell ya, I was sorry to see it (hahaha) on the list. This isn't a flick I will be adding to my DVD collection by any stretch of the imagination, but I thought it was absolutely hilarious while I was watching it.

Of course, I thought "Howard the Duck" (1986) was hilarious as well and I seem to be in the minority on that one, too...although, interestingly, HTD doesn't appear on the list. Oh well. Can't win them all.

It's so real it's Surreal...

What happens if you mix a 70's sitcom star, a Music Video Vixen, a crazy 80's hair band guitarist, add in a Playboy bunny, and Mr. Smash Mouth, shake liberally with the ultimate TV mom/hypno-therapist and a dash of Transgender Hollywood Royalty?


Really bad can't-look-away-from-it television aka "Surreal Life 6" on VH1.

SL6's celebrities: SHERMAN "GEORGE JEFFERSON" HEMSLEY, CC DEVILLE, lead guitarist of Poison, Video Vixen and TV Star, TAWNY KITAEN, Transgender actor-ess ALEXIS ARQUETTE, STEVE "SMASH MOUTH" HARWELL, Playboy sensation ANDREA LOWELL, and TV's favorite Mom, FLORENCE "CAROL BRADY" HENDERSON. Oh yeah, and some former-WWF guy named Maven who apparently was a last minute addition since he's left out of the initial VH1 press release. Poor Maven. A washed out has-been who isn't even important enough to warrant a mention as a washed out has-been. (insert sad face emoticon here)

As you may well have guessed, my favorite is the tranny, Alexis Arquette of THE Arquette family (wonder why we've never heard of him/her before now!) Is there anyone who fails to be fascinated on some level by a man in a dress???

Okay, I have yet to actually see Alexis in a dress, but you get my point.

S/he could learn a thing or two about looking more like a woman from the Prince, however. No matter how much body hair he grows, he still manages to look more feminine than a lot of chicks. Go figure.

Second on my list is Brady mom, Florence Henderson. She seems to have had the same reaction to the discovery of this mess of a masterpiece of Americana as I did.

Trailing in third place is Tawny Kitaen who (despite her name) has managed not to become a porn star.

Given her range of acting talent, she might have done well to give it some thought. Probably would have made a lot more money and could have left "debasing myself on reality TV" off her résumé. Of course, now that she's hanging out with Andrea Lowell who hangs out with midget porn stars, she may finally have her chance to break into the biz.

(Yeah, I said midget porn star. Accept it and move on.)

I am ashamed to admit that I caught an episode while I was at the gym and actually tried to extend my elliptical time so that I could see what happened after the commercial break. All I can say in my defense is that it's a train wreck and once you see it, it's nearly impossible to look away. I caught my second episode in the privacy of my own home where I could watch without anyone knowing (or even suspecting)...the cats don't count since they can't rat me out. I'm not yet hopelessly addicted since I haven't bothered to find out when it is regularly scheduled (I happened to be flipping channels the other day), but I can't make any promises.

And you know that if I have to suffer through it, I'm taking you with me...

You learn so many new things while hanging out at the gym

I am a big fan of the elliptical machine for my cardio workout. I recently joined a new gym, and instead of just listening to music on my Classic Sony Discman (no, I don't own an iPod, and I never intend to intentionally do so), I have the added benefit of watching four channels of cable TV at the same time. Usually I watch "Law & Order" or one of those court shows that prove that people don't care how ridiculous they appear to the world so long as there is a camera catching every moment.

But on Friday, my TV watching went to a whole new level.

For those of you who are sporting enthusiasts, you know that ESPN2 is where you can find the off-beat sports that you won't see on ESPN, CBS, ABC, NBC or any other channel. Things like X-treme Cross-Country Crocodile Rodeo and X-treme Beach Cave Climbing and X-treme...well, anything that can have the moniker "X-treme" slapped in front of it is on ESPN2. But this...this was different. This was a whole new level of the term "sporting event":

Sport Juggling.

(Not X-treme Sport Juggling, but give it time.)

"Sport Juggling" is the brainchild of Jason Garfield, founder and president of The World Federation of Juggling. He apparently disagrees strongly with the belief that juggling is something only performed by clowns or other circus acts (even though we all know that it is.)

Q: Are you in the circus?

A: Unless you've asked me this question while I am inside of a circus, the answer is no. If you mean, "do I work in the circus", the answer is still no. I do not like circuses. People confuse juggling with the circus however my juggling will be on the moon before it is ever in the circus.

(FAQ: JasonGarfield.com)

Admittedly it was fascinating to watch (for brief periods), and I might even go out and buy "Juggling for Klutzes", but under no circumstances whatsoever can this legitimately be called a "sport." I will concede that skateboarding and beach volleyball are sports (even though I'm still stunned that people can actually get paid money to play them), but JUGGLING??? C'mon, Jason...get a grip! (hahahahahaha)

My friend, Jessica, is cool as hell

Somehow she managed to score an invitation for two free dinners at the Grand Opening Party of a new Japanese restaurant on 48th Street here in the Big Apple. So Monday night we strolled into Aoki and proceeded to enjoy some good times. (Remember, free tastes better!)

The booth where we sat was pretty cool. The backs were made of clear Plexiglas and the table was made out of burnished metal with a clear top. Even better, we were seated next to the all-important "water element"...a wall of textured stone with water cascading gently down. I wanted to stick my fingers in it several times, but Jessica swore she wouldn't pull me out if I fell in, so I declined to potentially embarrass myself (I wouldn't have embarrassed her...she would just have folded her napkin politely, put it on the table and walked out...and spent the next week laughing at me.)

The rest of the decor was kind of...eclectic. In the front it was like the lounge area of a nightclub with velvet covered sofas and low tables to dine from...in the middle the chairs and tables were made of planked wood. To the side there was a huge, wildly colorful mural (not the understated depiction rendered here) of part of a classic Samurai warrior's face. In the back was a normal looking sushi bar. The other non-mural-adorned walls were red, water-covered or frosted glass (depending on which way you were facing). The ceiling was red and off-white and had huge wooden beams that I think were supposed to resemble the interior of a traditional Japanese farmhouse (like Gasho of Japan where my dad and I like to go for our lunch/dinners out).

It was more than a little weird, but hey, there was free food involved. I can put up with a little weird for that.

But not a LOT of weird.

In the middle of our meal, Jessica and I were conversing about acupuncture and sushi and polygamy (don't ask), when all of a sudden the music (which seemed to be the result of a bad iPod playlist) turned demonic. Seriously. It was like listening to a heavy metal album backwards. And it was LOUD. And although it caused Jess and me to freeze mid-fork-to-mouth, NO ONE ELSE SEEMED TO NOTICE! We kept looking around at the waitstaff, the owners, the other guests...everyone was just chatting away like nothing unusual was going on. We were shocked. And concerned. Were we the only ones being spoken to by the demonic music? Or were we surrounded by a crazed bunch of Satanists who used free food to lure us into a sacrificial trap?!

Apparently we were the only ones who could hear the demons, but (thank goodness) we were not surrounded by Satanists. At least not the sacrificing kind. No one attacked us during or after our meal (unless you count the hostess/owner with the zebra print boots who accosted us during the shrimp and vegetable tempura and wanted to know if we were happy with everything).

We discovered belatedly that the drinks were ordered were comped with our meal. We were both disappointed because we would have ordered something more expensive had we known. Jess barely touched her very heady plum wine (which is just as well because she had to go to work the next day), but I sucked down my Lover's Punch like it was fruit juice. Since I didn't even get a mild buzz, I think it may well have been.

Overall the food rating pimped out as follows (on a scale of 1 to 5, with 5 being the highest):
Seaweed salad: 3 (my first time intentionally eating seaweed...not as bad as I thought, but I doubt that I would do it again)

Calamari salad: 4 (yummy, but a tiny bit tough)




Shrimp and vegetable tempura: 4.5 (would have been a perfect 5 except it was too bland without the soy sauce)

Sushi: 4 (I'm going by Jessica's happiness on this one...I don't believe in eating meat that isn't cooked) . We totally did not get Hello Kitty sushi, so that bangs their rating down a few notches.

Shrimp Tempura roll: 3.5 (more seaweed...and I couldn't figure out how to eat it with chopsticks, so I made a lovely mess eating with my fingers - no forks were present or proffered)

Shrimp and Chicken teriyaki: 4 (the chicken was a little bland, but the shrimp were yummy)

Sashimi: 3.75 (once again raw food rating based on Jess' happiness)

Yes, we did have that much food. And we didn't even get everything they wanted to give us. We were supposed to have started with miso soup. I skipped it because I hate miso soup, but Jessica skipped it because there was just too much food coming. We planned to skip the salads as well, but they were no less than foisted upon us by the waiter who insisted that since they were included with the meal that we should have them. (FOISTED upon us, I tell you!) We didn't eat all that food. We couldn't eat all that food. But we felt appropriately bad about it because our middle-class sensibilities made us regret wasting food.

When they dropped off the bill, they let us know that they entire evening would have cost us somewhere in the neighborhood of $166 had we paid for it. We filled out a short evaluation about the food, ambiance and service (they misspelled "excellenect", so they lost points for that), left a tip for The Insistent Waiter and wandered out. All in all a fine deal, even though we didn't get a dessert selection. I would have gladly traded my shrimp tempura roll or seaweed salad for a dish of green tea ice cream (but nobody asked me, which is partially why I'm not in charge of anything...of course, it's also why I'm not wearing zebra print stiletto heel boots, either, so maybe this is a blessing in disguise...)

A love lost

Last week I got a huge shock. My ex-boyfriend, Peter, died suddenly and unexpectedly at the age of 39.

Because of the circumstances surrounding our break-up, I hadn't seen or spoken with Peter in over five years. But it didn't matter. His death hit me as hard as if I had just seen him yesterday. It make me consider the frailty and uncertainty of life, and confront my own mortality...none of which I was particularly happy about having to do. It also reminded me, however, that what we have now, in the present, is so very important and we really should make sure that we surround ourselves with good people, good energy and general happiness. It's cause to rethink working at a job you hate just for a paycheck, staying in a bad relationship just because it's easier than starting over - or staying out of one because of fear of getting hurt, staying late at the office instead of spending time with your friends and family, and letting stupid things push important people out of your life.

I used to kiss Peter goodbye every morning before I left for work. It annoyed him because he worked as a bartender and was up late most nights. He didn't appreciate my motives - leaving both of us with a positive memory in case the unexpected happened - until after we broke up. Whenever I felt like he was taking me for granted, I would warn him, "You're going to miss me when I'm gone," to which he would invariably reply, "Are you going somewhere?" The irony of all of this does not escape me. But I always understood it. Even though we hadn't seen each other in years, I thought about him almost every day. For little reasons, mostly - like every time I would go to a Thai restaurant, I would remember that he was the one who introduced me to the cuisine; he introduced me to a lot of music I otherwise would never have listened to; the bar where he worked is only a few blocks away from my apartment - I walk past it on a regular basis; signs and smells around the city remind me of private jokes and moments shared - and the memories were always positive. I never stopped loving Peter even after I stopped being "in love" with him. I have regrets now that I let his new girlfriend keep us apart...she even wanted to keep me away from his wake, but I refused to let that happen. Enough time had passed without us being in each other's lives...I wasn't going to miss my last chance to say goodbye.

My darling Peter, you were a brilliant, talented, warm, loving person, and I'm sorry I lost you during life and again, permanently, in death. Save a place in heaven (or wherever!) for me.

And now for something completely different...

SPAMalot. Funny as hell. I recommend it highly.

So I'm walking along yesterday, minding my own business...

...on my way home from Spoiled Brats (my main pet supply place), when a police car pulls up on the street next to me. Normally I wouldn't pay any attention to this since, as a NYer, this happens on a frequent enough basis that I find it unremarkable. This time, however, there was a loud popping noise (later identified as an usually loud car door unlocking) which caused me to swivel my head towards the sound...taking in subconsciously at the same time the fact that someone was approaching me and ducking between two parked cars. Again, this was hardly unusual. SuperMilkChan herself has frequently been known to slink between cars parked on her block to illegally cross the street. It only became relevant when the two cops got out of the car and one started calling after "Mr. Ruiz" and the other questioned aloud, "Where'd he go?"

Mr. Ruiz had apparently made plans that didn't include going peacefully with the nice officers, and made an attempt to ditch them. Unfortunately for Mr. Ruiz, he was one of those stupid criminals you see on TV. I looked back where I had seen the shadowy figure, and instead of seeing a person, I saw a pair of white sneakers sticking out from under a parked car.

Now this is one of those things that make you stop and think...do I laugh (as I so desperately want to) or do I tell the po-po where Mr. Ruiz has secreted himself? While part of my brain was pondering this deep philosophical question, another part of my brain was making my face bunch up with confusion at the illogical, comedic, pathetic attempt to disappear, and my right index finger point incriminatingly at the sneakers and mouth, "He's right there," to the Boys in Blue.

They weren't the brightest cops I've ever met...I had to motion to them three times before they got the picture.

Fortunately for them I don't Good Samaritan for praise or glory, cause I didn't get so much as a wave or a quiet word of thanks. If it hadn't been for me, they probably wouldn't have found him.

And if he hadn't been so stupid, Mr. Ruiz may well have gotten away.

And had I been a German tourist, I would have photos to go along with this tale...