Apologies for the unexpected radio silence yesterday, my little tax evaders.
This weekend, I attended my niece's first birthday party. At one point, I was in charge of watching her while the boring grown-ups talked about boring grown-up things like Barack Obama and shaving. As my niecey-pants was drinking from her juice box, she decided it would be fun to turn it upside down and pour the juice all over herself. A good time, right? I thought so. My mom disagreed.
Mom: "Brendan, she's spilling juice all over herself."
Me: "Yeah, I can see that."
Mom: "No, stop her."
Against my better judgment, I broke my vow to be the "no rules" uncle and took the juice box away from her. And what happened? Tears and wailing. Now, my mom thinks she was upset because her arm was all wet and sticky from juice, but if you ask me the little girl was just upset that her formerly favorite uncle decided to go along with the "don't spill juice on your self" establishment. Another hero falls.
As revenge, the little jerk got me sick. Babies, while unabashedly cute, are also deadly little germ machines. Beware. They will lure you in with their kissable cheeks and then infect you with viruses that would make Daisy from Rock of Love 2 blush.
Speaking of which, I have officially picked the winner of Rock of Love in both seasons from the very first episode. I'm not sure how I feel about the fact that apparently Bret Michaels and I have the exact same taste in skanks.
If you have the opportunity to watch the new VH1 hip hop competition show Miss Rap Supreme with your mom, I strongly suggest doing so. It adds a whole new level of entertainment to the program.
My mom: "Do you understand what they're saying?"
Me: "Yeah, usually."
My mom: "I have no idea what they're saying. It's like listening to baby talk. Ga ga goo goo bleep bleep goo. No idea."
As I was watching the Red Sox-Yankees game last night (and for the record, I fell asleep WAAAAAY before the game was over), I noticed an ad behind home plate that said "Yankees Banking."
I'm not exactly sure what this particular promotion entails, but I do know that it most certainly was given the wrong name. It should have been called "Yankees Bankees."
Yup. I've been pretty overtired lately.
Speaking of yankers, be sure to stop by O'Brien's tonight for night 3 of the Harris residency. It will be a nice way to whet your appetite for the wetness of next Thursday's awesome show-show.
In addition to being the Northeast's foremost expert on zombie-related emergency planning, our boy Madden is also quite the web designer. Here is his mock-up for the new Brendan Boogie Band website:
Personally, I think misspelling the name was a particularly good touch. Have a nice long weekend, all.