A BLONDE'S YEAR IN REVIEW

• January -- Took new scarf back to store because it was too tight
• February -- Fired from pharmacy job for failing to print labels... bottles won't fit in typewriter!
• March -- Got excited... finished jigsaw puzzle in 6 months... box said "2-4 years!"
• April -- Trapped on escalator for hours... power went out!
• May -- Tried to make Kool-Aid... 8 cups of water won't fit into those little packets!
• June -- Tried to go water skiing... couldn't find a lake with a slope
• July -- Lost breaststroke swimming competition. Learned later, other swimmers cheated, they used their arms!
• August -- Got locked out of car in rain storm... car swamped, because top was down
• September -- The capital of California is "C"... isn't it?
• October -- Hate M&M's, they are so hard to peel
• November -- Bakes turkey for 41/2 days... instructions said 1 hour per pound and I weigh 108!
• December -- Couldn't call 911... there's no eleven button on the phone!

Incredible Christmas Story

Thanks to Dave Benson for the story.

From Mark Evanier

The scene is Farmer's Market — the famed tourist mecca of Los Angeles. It's located but yards from the facility they call, "CBS Television City in Hollywood"...which, of course, is not in Hollywood but at least is very close. Farmer's Market is a quaint collection of bungalow stores, produce stalls and little stands where one can buy darn near anything edible one wishes to devour. You buy your pizza slice or sandwich or Chinese food or whatever at one of umpteen counters, then carry it on a tray to an open-air table for consumption. During the Summer or on weekends, the place is full of families and tourists and Japanese tour groups. But this was a winter weekday, not long before Christmas, and the crowd was mostly older folks, dawdling over coffee and danish. For most of them, it's a good place to get a donut or a taco, to sit and read the paper. For me, it's a good place to get out of the house and grab something to eat.

I arrived, headed for my favorite barbecue stand and, en route, noticed that Mel Tormé was seated at one of the tables. Mel Tormé. My favorite singer. Just sitting there, sipping a cup of coffee, munching on an English Muffin, reading The New York Times. Mel Tormé. I had never met Mel Tormé. Alas, I still haven't and now I never will. He looked like he was engrossed in the paper that day so I didn't stop and say, "Excuse me, I just wanted to tell you how much I've enjoyed all your records." I wish I had. Instead, I continued over to the BBQ place, got myself a chicken sandwich and settled down at a table to consume it. I was about halfway through when four Christmas carolers strolled by, singing "Let It Snow," a cappella. They were young adults with strong, fine voices and they were all clad in splendid Victorian garb. The Market had hired them (I assume) to stroll about and sing for the diners — a little touch of the holidays."Let It Snow" concluded not far from me to polite applause from all within earshot. I waved the leader of the chorale over and directed his attention to Mr. Tormé, seated about twenty yards from me. "That's Mel Tormé down there. Do you know who he is?" The singer was about 25 so it didn't horrify me that he said, "No."I asked, "Do you know 'The Christmas Song?'" Again, a "No." I said, "That's the one that starts, 'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...'" "Oh, yes," the caroler chirped. "Is that what it's called? 'The Christmas Song?'" "That's the name," I explained. "And that man wrote it." The singer thanked me, returned to his group for a brief huddle...and then they strolled down towards Mel Tormé. I ditched the rest of my sandwich and followed, a few steps behind. As they reached their quarry, they began singing, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." directly to him. A big smile formed on Mel Tormé's face — and it wasn't the only one around. Most of those sitting at nearby tables knew who he was and many seemed aware of the significance of singing that song to him. For those who didn't, there was a sudden flurry of whispers: "That's Mel Tormé...he wrote that..."As the choir reached the last chorus or two of the song, Mel got to his feet and made a little gesture that meant, "Let me sing one chorus solo." The carolers — all still apparently unaware they were in the presence of one of the world's great singers — looked a bit uncomfortable. I'd bet at least a couple were thinking, "Oh, no...the little fat guy wants to sing." But they stopped and the little fat guy started to sing...and, of course, out came this beautiful, melodic, perfectly-on-pitch voice. The look on the face of the singer I'd briefed was amazed at first...then properly impressed. On Mr. Tormé's signal, they all joined in on the final lines: "Although it's been said, many times, many ways...Merry Christmas to you..." Big smiles all around. And not just from them. I looked and at all the tables surrounding the impromptu performance, I saw huge grins of delight...which segued, as the song ended, into a huge burst of applause.

The whole tune only lasted about two minutes but I doubt anyone who was there will ever forget it. I have witnessed a number of thrilling "show business" moments — those incidents, far and few between, where all the little hairs on your epidermis snap to attention and tingle with joy. Usually, these occur on a screen or stage. I hadn't expected to experience one next to a falafel stand — but I did. Tormé thanked the harmonizers for the serenade and one of the women said, "You really wrote that?" He nodded. "A wonderful songwriter named Bob Wells and I wrote that...and, get this — we did it on the hottest day of the year in July. It was a way to cool down. "Then the gent I'd briefed said, "You know, you're not a bad singer." He actually said that to Mel Tormé. Mel chuckled. He realized that these four young folks hadn't the velvet-foggiest notion who he was, above and beyond the fact that he'd worked on that classic carol. "Well," he said. "I've actually made a few records in my day...""Really?" the other man asked. "How many?" Tormé smiled and said, "Ninety."

BOOBS REVEAL YOUR PERSONALITY

A sex researcher says he's discovered how a man can find a perfect mate - by the size and shape of her boobs. "A woman's breasts denote a woman's character, just like her star sign," sexologist Piero Lorenzoni says. And to demonstrate his premise, the scientist has developed a chart using a variety of fruits to represent breasts. From melons to cherries, Lorenzoni said a woman's temperament can be charted just by matching the correct fruit to her chest size.

Melons -- Big-breasted gals whose bosoms resemble this fruit may appear to be the motherly type, but Lorenzoni says that assessment is way off base. "She likes eating and wants to be spoiled and admired," he said, "but seldom likes sex."

Lemons -- Happy-go-lucky girls who have these size breasts are "women who are full of life and can laugh at themselves," claimed the expert. "They want a balanced life without surprises."

Pineapples -- If you're looking for a brainy honey who'll stick with you through thick and thin, Lorenzoni suggest: "A woman with pineapple breasts is intelligent, often has a career but is still romantic. They are also faithful. Whoever wins their heart will not lose it quickly."

Grapefruits -- Boobs this size could be giving off the wrong signal if a guy is looking for a sex goddess. "This woman may look erotic, but is reality she's bashful," Lorenzoni explained. "She spoils her partner but prefers tenderness over sex."

Oranges -- Another lady who's all talk and no action is one with a bosom the shape of this fruit. "While she's self-confident, she has little interest in sex," said the researcher. "She likes conversation and friendship."

Pears -- This shaped woman is a pure romantic. "She loves love in all its variations," Lorenzoni proclaimed. "They can be very religious, but nonetheless pear women are famous for their steamy affairs."

Cherries -- Girls with petite breasts like this fruit are the most fun, according to Lorenzoni. "They're fun and very exciting," he said. If you want life to be a bowl of cherries, then this is your gal.

I just Blinded you with Science.

Jennifer Love Hewitt Bikini Photo

First off, I expect site traffic through the roof with this posts title. One can't underestimate the seedy underbelly of the internet. This will likely generate the most traffic this site has seen in months. I'll let ya know later.

This is the pic that's causing Jennifer Love Hewitt so much grief. Poor thing. She's simply enjoying time at the beach and some photog snaps this beauty. In the "Immediate media" world we live in, it's bounced around the world in seconds.

If you haven't seen this already, you don't spend much time online do you?

Point is - she's under attack for being "fat."

Jenn today shot back "Since when is a size 2 fat?"

This picture alone is reason enough to avoid stardom at all costs.