ONE MORE REASON TO HATE THE FRENCH

Paul and I went for a drink Tuesday night. Paul wanted to go relatively early and eat there, but I had to watch the Cubs game and finish Tuesday's blog first. Plus, I had leftover Chinese. So much for listening to my mom and getting out there and living. I arrive at Bruno's at about 11:15 p.m. The place is jam-packed. We decide not to enter.

Instead, we head across the street to Rocco's, which is where the old Bruno's used to be. It had a decent crowd and a drink special: $2 wells. Good enough for me. I order a jack and coke and discuss the Saints game with Paul. We sit on stools at the bar, as if we were Norm and Cliff. I end up arguing that Reggie, er, Red Meat didn't have a very good game. At work on Sunday, I was on the other side of the argument. Funny how that works out.

I'm trying to convince Paul that the defense didn't prove shit (missed tackles, the Bucs suck, etc.) when an almost hot girl (but very attractive) approaches the bar by scooching between us. She's still standing (that's the name of my No. 34 show of all-time) there thirty seconds later because the bartender had yet to serve her.

Almost Hot Girl: I'm so sorry, guys. I'm interruppting your conversation.

Me: I'm not complaining.

AHG: Oh, that's sweet. What are you guys talking about?

Paul: The Saints game.

AHG: Oh, cool. I heard they were losing and came back. How long does it take to get service?

Me: Yeah. This is taking a long time. Maybe they don't like taking credit cards.

AHG: You might be right. I should have brought cash. I'm so sorry for bothering you.

Me: No problem. What you should do is throw your card at the bartender right there. That'll get her attention.

AHG (laughing): I can't do that. That would be mean.

Me: Yeah. But it will get the job done. What if I take this empty cup of ice here and throw it at her?

AHG (giggling): No. Don't do that. That wouldn't be nice.

Me: Yeah. That would probably get me kicked out. But at least you'd have a story to tell.

AHG (laughing): You're right. Maybe you should.

(I glance over at Paul at this point. He has this look that says: "Oh, man. You are so in. You got her going. Not go in for the kill." Well, duh. I noticed when she came into the bar that she entered with two female friends. I always notice these things. I'm good like that.)

Me: So. Would you like to grab a chair and join ... (I was going to finish: us when you finally get served, if that ever happens.)

Before I can finish, she turns around to greet her boyfriend with a kiss. He has a French accent like Henri from Cheers. Henri tried to steal Kelly from Woody. That bastard. This French dude already stole AHG from me.

AHG did come back twenty minutes later to order more drinks (she got served the first time right after the boyfriend showed up). We chatted again. I gave her a fake name. Her name was Lindy. I think. That's what Paul and I decided she said. Though it kind of sounded like she said: Ling-Ling (you know, like the panda).

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

"Something smells. I can't figure out what the fuck it is."

Mom watched Oprah's show on the Olympics. Naturally, Oprah taught her everything she needed to know about the 2008 games. "I didn't know David Cook sang the theme to the whole fucking thing. ... When does his fucking CD come out?"

I ask mom her thoughts on Palin. "I think she's going to help his fucking campaign. They didn't want to put a fucking woman as president, but now they're going to put a woman as fucking vice president." (If anyone from CNN is reading this, mom is available for commentary.)

Mom asks me if I like the new Kid Rock song. I say I haven't heard it yet. "How could you never heard it? It's the fucking song of the year."

I'm watching season 2 of Heroes on DVD in my room. I hear from the kitchen: "FUUUUUCCCCKKKK!!!!"

Mom: Is that Bad Company? Two teenagers in the Chevy fucking.
Me: I don't know. Doesn't sound familiar.
Mom: It's on your computer. They're in a Chevy. They're fucking. Come on.
Me: Sorry.
(Mom comes back in my room a few minutes later.)
Mom: It's Night Moves.
Me: That's Bob Seger.
Mom: Well, you still should have fucking known what I was talking about.

HEY LA, MY SKITTLES ARE BACK

Bake brought me the good news Wednesday afternoon that the Skittles had returned to the F4 slot in the vending machine. No more Zero bars. Woohoo. I already had a Nestle Crunch bar for a snack, but I couldn't pass up being part of the big return. At dinner, I bought a bag for the usual five cents. As I was eating my Skittles at my desk, I felt like all was right with the world. It was a good feeling. This is the way it's supposed to be. When I'm in a good mood, I say I like to sing a song. Time to change up a classic to fit the mood.

Hello Skittles, my old friend, (Hello darkness, my old friend)
I've come to eat you up again, (I've come to talk to you again)
Because the vendor is unknowing, (Because a vision softly creeping)
Left the bags while mom was cursing, (Left its seeds while I was sleeping)
And the five cents that I planted in the slot, (And the vision that was planted in my brain)
Still work out, (Still remains)
Within the taste of fruit flavor. (Within the sound of silence)

PARTING SHOTS
I tell Jelly that I need to start working downstairs. There are like 10 attractive girls my age down there. I tell Jelly I saw one girl on the escalator today with only a ring on her middle finger.

Me: What does a ring on the middle finger mean?
Jelly: Nothing.
Bake: I think it means FU.

For some reason or another, I get the song, "Killing me Softly" stuck in my head. Of course, I start singing it out loud for the co-workers to enjoy.

Me (singing): Killing me softly with his song. Telling my whole life with his words. Killing me softly with his song.
Liam: You're killing me slowly with that singing.

I ask the crowd how to spell scooch. I wanted to make sure I was spelling it correctly.

Derry: S-C-O-O-C-H.
Me: Yeah. That's what I thought.
Jelly: Come on, Gene. Clearly, it's cooch with an s.

THE DAILY TOP LIST
My top five cops in the movies.

5) Miles Logan. Martin Lawrence. Blue Streak.
(OK. So he was a jewel thief. But he pretended to be a cop and helped stop the real bad guy.)
Favorite line: Can't believe so much bad shit can happen on such a beautiful day.

4) Frank Drebin. Leslie Nielsen. Naked Gun.
Favorite line: Like a midget at a urinal, I was going to have to stay on my toes.

3) Axel Foley. Eddie Murphy. Beverly Hills Cop.
Favorite line: Billy, you know, you don't have to be embarrassed if your dick gets hard. Your dick is supposed to get hard.

2) John McClane. Bruce Willis. Die Hard.
Favorite line (from the third one): Inspector Cobb: John, have you been drinking?
McClane: No, not since this morning.

1) Martin Riggs. Mel Gibson. Lethal Weapon.
Favorite line: Everybody thinks I'm suicidal, in which case, I'm fucked and nobody wants to work with me; or they think I'm faking to draw a psycho pension, in which case, I'm fucked and nobody wants to work with me. Basically, I'm fucked.