Sunday, December 23, 2007

The Dunhill’s Year in Review Christmas Letter

It’s hard to believe that another year has come and gone. What a year 2007 was for the Dunhill family!! We’ve certainly had our share of both highlights and lowlights. As the year started our Tommy was recognized at Jefferson High as an outstanding student. He had two outstanding warrants; drugs and indecent exposure.

Officers physically removed him from 3rd period Biology taking him straight to county lock-up. Since my husband Troy was unemployable due to a Megan’s law “technicality” and I had nagging yeast problems; neither of us had jobs so we couldn’t raise the bail money necessary to spring him right away.

We were able to rent Tommy’s mattress to a border to raise enough cash for the bail. The border still owes some rent money, we tried to collect but we couldn’t grab him before he made it back over the border.

Tommy spent all of January and most of February in jail. Prison was an eye-opening experience for him, just not the eye he is used to opening. He sat on a heavily padded donut until July. He spent the rest of the year under house arrest, well really trailer arrest.

In May, Troy and I became proud grandparents when Sue-Ellen gave birth to that little bundle of joy; she named him- Toby-Keith-Tony-Stewart Dunhill. He was named after his father. Sue-Ellen just wanted to make sure she didn’t leave anyone out since she ain’t real sure who the father is exactly, but she narrowed it down as best she could.

He’s cute as button, he’s got Sue-Ellen’s nose and the eyes of one of the possible fathers. She was able to make-up the time she missed at school and graduate on time and even make it to Dean’s list at “Big Dean’s Big Rig College”. Dean said she made his list because of her shifting skills and her ability to work the rest stop. Ever since graduation she’s been haulin’ ass across the tri-state area, we are very proud of her. She may continue her studies down at Big Dean’s for her MBA (Movin’ Boxes Anywhere) and her PhD (Pullin’Heavier Deliveries). Big Dean expects to get his accreditation from the state any day now.

Troy and I baby-sit Toby-Keith-Tony-Stewart while Sue-Ellen is off climbing the big rig ladder. Just the other night the little fella’ whizzed right in Troy’s face while we he was changing him. Troy said it tasted just like ‘Ole Grand Dad’. God rest his soul.

We had a fun summer vacation down at the creek. Who the hell needs Disneyland anyway? Skinny dippin and cat fishin all day, illegal low grade fireworks at night. Troy tried to make it feel like Disneyland for me, Once the kids were asleep he would get all drunked up, strip naked and sing “It’s a Small World After All” outside the tent with his flashlight while toasting marshmallows from a hickory stick wedged in his buttocks.

He is so darned romantic!

Jackson turned nine in September and is the star of his Pop Warner football team. He was a star linebacker, but this year he also plays fullback and made the all-star team at both positions. I still remember at summer practices in August when Coach Everett told Troy he wanted Jackson to “go both ways” this season. Troy punched Coach in the teeth and called him a homo!

Jackson is also the star of his basketball, baseball, and rastlin teams. We really think he is going to make it in professional sports so we don’t think he needs to waste time on things like school. He is being home-schooled, but not by us. We found a good teacher he really likes. Her name is Anita Johnson; she is a pre-op transsexual awaiting a donor transplant. We all really love her; she is like a part of our family. She will teach Jackson until they find a donor, then she’s off to California for the operation. With recovery time and all, we don’t think she will be teaching for awhile. So, basically once she gets a member, it’s like we lose a member of our family and Jackson looses his teacher.

In October, all charges were dismissed against Troy. He went back to work as a pizza maker over at Chuck-E-Cheese. In November, the FDA approved an experimental antibiotic for my yeast problem. My doctor calls it ‘Breadazone’, I’ve been taking it for two months and I haven’t baked any panty muffins since. The only dough Troy gets on his hands these days is from the pizza oven at his job. Tommy is back to making real fart sounds, Sue-Ellen lost her baby weight, she is a trim 197lbs, Jackson no longer has jock itch, and the baby now has three teeth, one more than Grandma Bessie. We are all healthy and happy…finally.

As you see it’s been a busy and exciting 2007 for us Dunhill’s. Here’s wishing you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Kick-Ass Kwanzaa and a Happy New Year!!.





Tuesday, December 18, 2007

The Dreaded Company Christmas Party

During any company Christmas parties this season try to accomplish the following: Try to stay sober enough not to lose your job or hearing about making a total ass out of yourself from 9-5 Monday- Friday for the foreseeable future or until they mercifully outsource your job to a low cost region.

Many promising young careers at major companies have been prematurely halted courtesy of Jagermeister. Why do you think there are so many bloggers? Sure, it seemed harmless at the time to ask your VP’s wife if she was just “thonging it” tonight or going commando, but when you went under the hood for a look-see it was clear to everyone the line had been crossed, everyone but you that is.

Eat, drink and be merry, but in moderation. If you overdo it, you may become this year’s office party casualty. You will become the guy co-workers will be unable to walk past you without snickering or whispering to each other. No, you’re not paranoid, they are still laughing about the 2003 Christmas party here in July of ‘06.

With the lethal mix of a festive mood, free unlimited booze, great food, female co-workers looking hotter than ever it’s difficult to be on your best behavior, it’s a real challenge not to get all liquored up.

But you really have to make that effort..

When the three hottest single women from the office all shoot your inebriated-ass down for dances try not to reach for the low hanging Christmas fruit by shouting “HO, HO, HO”. Just bow your head in shame and gracefully stagger back to your table refraining from the verbal altercation. And try not to body slam any of the wait staff on the way back to the table.

Avoid calling your left leg “Christmas” and right leg “New Years” and telling every woman on the dance floor to “come see me between the holidays”.

Stay away from both mistletoe and eggnog at all times.

And if you are decide to get all shit-faced have the common sense to take a few people from the office along with you so as to cushion the blow for yourself. Who knows? You mooning your whole department may not have been the worse thing that happened that night if the co-workers you drank with happen to be bigger lightweights than you. As a rule of thumb, never do shots alone.

See, normally you hate Meredith; the know it all CPA. She is a total bitch to you and everyone else, but tonight you were smart enough make nice for Christmas and ask her to pound beers and chase shots with you. You kindest paid off. I guess they are right when they say it’s better to give than receive….

“Sure, we all saw your hairy hemorrhoid laden-ass but that was nothing. But when Meredith from Accounts Payable danced on the bar and pulled her double-D’s out , that was freaking unbelievable!!” “They were awesome!” “I love working here, I want to be full-time!!!”

You were drunk and stupid, but she was drunker and more stupid. Nobody remembers you now after Meredith pulled out her emersons. It’s like the governor called and granted your very own stay of execution.

I’ve seen it all at the office Christmas party, like the year when my ex-boss was doing his Al Pacino ‘Scarface’ impression. He was holding court in the middle of a circle of co-workers both men and women, pants at ankles barking in his best Cuban accent (which sounded Russian) “Say hello to my little friend”. Luckily for me, I was far enough away for the circle not to witness the train wreck. From what some of the women in the office told me later he should have said “Say hello to my very, very little friend”

Sleeping with the bosses wife, insulting your director, passing out underneath the table are all things that can be real fun, but there is a time and place for everything. Just don’t be stupid enough to do any of these things at your company’s holiday party and you will be just fine.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Carson Daly- If nobody watches can it still be considered TV?

Carson Daly scabbed his way to back to his studio last week in Burbank to resume production on his late night TV show. Carson Daly is not a member of the WGA, so he is not a “scab” in the strictest sense of the word. But with or without a union card he is still a no-talent douche that much is clear. He is such a major wit and strong performer that he solicited “jokes” from his friends and family through a douche-chilly email…

“Hello, So at some point during my first week on the air, I will be mentioning the devastating writers strike and saying something to the effect that a TON of my friends and family, have been calling me, leaving messages, offering their help with jokes because they know I don’t have any writers and hosting a late night show without them will be nearly impossible for me.”

I’ve had the misfortune of suffering from insomnia about a year ago and I actually watched this show a couple of times. The first night was horrible, I though perhaps it was a bad night for Carson, so I gave him another chance the next night. The second night was even worse than the first. He has the stage presence of the propped up cadaver, his delivery is horrible, and the comedic material was mediocre at best. But maybe with a skilled host the material might shine a little brighter. Carson Daly could have the writers from The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and Late Night with Conan O’Brien and still not be able to draw laughs from a crowd. Just because Mario Batali gives me his best recipe for Mussels Marinara doesn’t mean I’m not going to totally fuck it up!!

Carson’s ’s a mediocre DJ who luckily got an MTV gig, He then fooled NBC into thinking he was hip enough to host a light night show and draw the MTV pimple faces along with him. During his interviews he comes off more as an obsessed fan than skillful questioner.

Do you think it’s just a coincidence that Carson’s name in not even mentioned as a successor to Conan O’Brien when he takes over The Tonight Show? Jimmy Fallon will take Conan’s spot, Carson Daly didn’t even make the short list

The cry for help/jokes email to family and friends is a clear admission that he has no sense of humor. He even copies his personal doctor on the email to provide some yuks. The painful email continues as he spouts examples of the types of jokes he expects to receive from loved ones….

“It could be as simple as BEEP, Hey Cars, it’s DAD sorry bout the strike, it’s gotta be tough on ya, try this one on the show….two priests and a rabbi walk into a bar....yada, yada. Anyway my back’s really better, those pills mom got me seem to be working, bye.”

Priest and Rabbi jokes?? The early sixties just called they want their humor back. If this IS his father type of humor it’s no wonder he produced a humorless dolt like Carson. He even asked his father if his golfing buddies had any material. I’m no executive producer but, is that really the humor well you want to draw from for a late night show aimed at partying college kids, fat rich white guys playing the dog leg at the 15th hole at Pebble Beach??

The Phi Beta Kappa frat boys don’t want to hear about a prostate problem or erectile dysfunction as they're doing bong hits unless of course you provide some visuals along with the audio, but I guess that depends how stoned they are?

The only monologue your doctor is certified to handle is the one between your legs. I’d much rather see Carson solicit family and friends to host that show rather than send in jokes. Get a vibrant personality to host, then we can work on straightening out the material once the strike is over.