Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Say what you will about Drew Peterson but you have to kind of admire the fact that he’s running around Naperville at 2:30 a.m. ferrying 22-year-old girls who work at tanning parlors to and from their destinations. Sure there is the unresolved matter of his third wife’s death, and his fourth wife is still missing, but the girls where I go tanning barely even talk to me. Drew says that they are just fiends, and I’m sure that they are, but I can count on one fingerless hand how many 22-year-old girls I can call friends. If I’m disappointed in anything, it’s the fact that Drew still doesn’t even make an effort to tan naturally.

I am going to the Sox game tonight and bringing my blow-up doll with me. Can a blow-up doll sit on one’s lap, or does she have to have her own ticket? My blow-up doll doesn’t have any holes punched in her. I find that it’s easier to pass her off as a party favor, rather than a pornographic helper that way. It also cuts down on the temptation to do something vile to her. It’s too bad the blow-up dolls that the Sox had in their locker room weren’t the kind without the love holes. Then they wouldn’t have been tempted to stick bats in their “slump busters” and draw the ire of the media who shouldn’t be in there in the first place.

At the end of Tuesday’s show, I was telling Buzz about a guy in Ohio who was arrested for having sex with his picnic table. No, the picnic table didn’t press charges. The guy’s neighbor called the cops and handed over three DVDs featuring the furniture fornication. It seems like one DVD would have been enough. They charged the guy with public indecency. I guess he didn’t have an umbrella. He is also alleged to have had sex with said picnic table inside the house too. I wonder if his kitchen table or the dining room table got jealous of something like that. He should contact the White Sox about some used blow-up dolls in their possession.