Saturday

Tough one-hour spin class this AM with my new favorite spin-Nazi, Kandi. Then a late morning and afternoon hangin' with Winnie. Which included a 20 minute romp in the Bettendorf dog park, and a two mile run/walk after a nap. She did pretty good in the dog park, playing around with several other dogs, all of varying sizes, but all quite a bit bigger than her. A return visit for sure.

So all the trash magazines and Entertainment Weekly media shows are releasing their Top Ten's of the decade. Same for the sports shows. My first problem is with the math. If it's the 9th year of the decade, is the 0 year understood as the first year of the decade? If that's the case, when we're celebrating a kid's ninth birthday, is it really his/her tenth? Frankly, I think that the whole problem is driven by the math-challenged left-wing liberal press.

I think that the person on top of almost every list, whatever the category, will be Cheetah Woods. (h/t to Revkev.) The guy has a variety of skills, and definitely the notoriety. Or maybe he's just notorious.

I heard on the radio this week an advertisement for a franchise-like deal for individual investors to own their own Redbox-like movie rental machines. The concept is for the investor to buy the machine and the movies (I guess), and then make a profit on the rentals. This is the kind of deal where the only person with the possibility of making any money is the guy selling the franchise rights and the hardware. I don't know what the entry fee is (or the use fees payable to the studios), but the buyer will likely never recover the original investment.

I remember a couple of clients from the early '80's who bought individual pay-telephone machines. At like $10K a pop. What could go wrong? I'm not saying that these kiosk things will go that same route, but I'd take the under.

A movie that I certainly refuse to consider for FFF is It's Complicated. Not only does the cast include at least three of my least-favorite thespians, the concept of middle-age sex farces is about as anti-erotic as it gets. Didn't they figure that out with Something's Gotta Give? I prefer Charlie's Angels or any of the Bond girls in my fantasies (Drew Barrymore, not withstanding).

In preparation for the Scottsdale golf trip, I have re-engaged my Gold's personal trainer for a few sessions before my January 6th departure. I have been entirely unsuccessful in getting myself started again on her exercise regimen, so I'm biting the bullet and paying for forced motivation.

Glad to see the Cub's dump Milton Bradley. He was a cancer on the team, and he didn't hit. Not hitting was the biggest problem. (Of course, even if he had hit, the team was so bad last year that they wouldn't have won enough to displace StL.) The window for the core of their current squad may be closing. And if they don't win in '10, Lou will be toast. (Any Grapefruit League plans for the TC crew this year?)

All for now. Headed out to raise heck in the QCA.

BCOT