This morning is cool and damp, and our — me and the dog, that is — morning walk took twice as long to cover the same distance. For some reason, the ground smelled very, very interesting. I had nowhere I had to be, so I gave him all the time he wanted. He studied that ground. He gave it long, thoughtful sniffs. You could see the little wheels turning.
Most days, I’m pretty happy to be a higher-functioning primate, but on mornings like this I wonder what I would give to be a dog, just for one cool, damp morning. The grass would be your morning newspaper, as Dave Barry once said.
Our neighborhood is also thick with rabbits. Apparently it’s a problem all over the area — the Freep did a story on it, although I’m not going to go looking for linkage — and they’re doing major garden damage. We hardly have a garden at all, but they’ve lopped off the tenderest hosta leaves already. I see piles of bunny poop here and there, and at least once a day the dog flushes one out of the neighbor’s yard. He knows he can’t catch them, but he gives chase anyway; it’s in his contract. The other day he chased one around the swingset twice, both prey and predator giving it about a three-quarter effort before the cottontail bolted for the hole in the fence he always uses for his getaway and the dog came in for his good-boy biscuit.
Why do people read Hollywood gossip columns when they can watch drama in their own back yards?
But speaking of Hollywood: Poor Vonzell. How you gonna keep ’em down at the post office, after they’ve seen Paree? I was kind of rooting for Bo to be booted, after it was clear he had achieved his dream in life: Singing with Lynyrd Skynyrd, or however you spell it. What else can a mediocre rock singer ask from life? On the other hand, I have one more week of amusing, Bice-based wordplay. My favorite (thanks to J.C.B.): Extremism in the defense of liberty is Bo Bice.
I guess he had to make it to the finale, so we could finally see the all-time-best reality-TV ending evah: Bo swings his mic stand one last time, the base comes off and spins into the judges’ table, knocking Paula Abdul senseless. Or rather, more senseless than she usually seems to be.
Ashley, all I can tell you is this: I wouldn’t buy a record by any of these people at gunpoint, but watching them compete against one another is pretty decent entertainment.
Next season, however, I may skip watching the show entirely and confine myself to the recaps on Tvgasm. Much funnier: Vonzell, again, is first. For her, Simon has chosen �On the Radio�, the Donna Summer classic. Vonzell begins and sounds exactly like Summer herself, and then — what�s this — Vonzell breaks out into full-on Jazzercise mode!! Look at her go! Grapevine that shit, Vonzell, Grapevine it, Girl! Listen, only a handful of women can move like that in heels, and 90 percent of those women have penises, so credit where it�s due: Vonz has got the moves.
Man, I’ll be glad when sweeps is over and I can go back to reading in the evenings. Last night Alan worked late and I was sure he’d have to work later after the dramatic season finale of “America’s Next Top Model.” After all, the Detroit girl won.