The Best Name For A Rock Group In The History Of Ever!

MEN WITHOUT PANTS

If I was a DJ I'd funk up some old Men Without Hats tracks with new stuff from Men Without Pants and call it a "We Don't Need No Stinkin' Dress Code Remix."

Do The Safety Dance.....Without Pants Or Hats!

I Got Friends In Low Places.....

But my 9 year-old daughter Caterpillar has friends in high places!
Very high superstar-level places, that is!
And isn't that what parenting is all about? We raise our kids with the expectation that they'll become more successful in life than their parents.

I was stunned when Caterpillar received an invitation to a pizza party on Saturday to celebrate the birthday of none other than Matt LeBlanc!
I don't have a ton of money. I hope Matt really likes the Incredible Hulk action figures I got on clearance at the Dollar General store!

I grew up with a Michael Jackson who epitomized the whole "White&Nerdy" thing. He used to sign our class yearbooks like this: "Beat It! Cuz I'm The ONLY Thriller In This School! Michael Jackson 4Ever!" And then he'd draw a little white glove next to it. Yeah. I'll never forget when Michael Jackson's mom bought him a pair of black parachute pants in an effort to try and help her son fit in with his more urban savvy peers. They were 2 sizes too big and he wore them with a navy blue T-shirt that featured the Alka-Seltzer boy on it. You didn't get much street cred in the 80's wearing T-shirts that screamed out "Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz, Oh, What A Relief It Is" in big white letters across your back.

And now my gorgeous daughter can share in the celebrity classmate tradition with her own short and freckled version of Matt LeBlanc. Caterpillar may even be able to parlay this into a fledgling tabloid reporter career as she reveals such shocking headline-worthy news like: "I Saw Matt LeBlanc Pick His Nose Like He Was A Pro On The Pick-N-Flick Competition Circuit" or "Matt LeBlanc Chews His Bologna Sandwiches Into The Shape Of The Virgin Mary Every Day At Lunch." One article she'll for sure be able to write after Saturday reads: "I Partied With Matt LeBlanc And Have The Pepperoni Indigestion To Prove It."

Hey, I Don't Mean To Alarm You But There Appears To Be An Alligator On Your Breast!

Yeah, my mom bought into the all the preppy reptilian hype back in the 80's. I had quite a few toothy alligators dancing across my chestage as an adolescent.....and then as a teen the man-eating alligator emblem was displaced by a fearsome band of snobby Polo ponies. Nowadays the only thing hovering over the breast area of my shirts are the stains from the meatball sandwich I ate for lunch.
Honestly, I can't really fault my mother for choosing the trendy look for my wardrobe. As I recall, the only other fashion options in 1984 involved Valley Girl mini-skirts, parachute pants, checkered Vans, zippered leather jackets, fugly stirrup leggings, OP beach wear, and Garanimals. None of the above options would ever look normal on the pudgy, white bread-suburbanite me .

After an extended hibernation, Lacoste is back on the scene.
Look at how excited one Houston neighborhood is to welcome in a new era of all things Lacoste. They LOVE Lacoste and they're not afraid to show it. They even named their street Lacoste Love Ct.
You too can be a resident of Lacoste Love Ct. but only if you solemnly swear to uphold the strict tenets of their Home Owner's Association Policy. The H.O.A. states that all residents must wear Izod Lacoste apparel at all times. Residents must also decorate their yard space with alligator fountains and all topiary bushes must be cut into the shape of alligators. I think they're working on a fundraiser to isolate their street from the rest of the neighborhood by building a moat and stocking it with real alligators.
I hope they realize that they'll never be able to get another pizza delivered to their home again.

I really like the NO OUTLET notice situated above the street sign.
It's as though the occupants of Lacoste Love Ct. are saying LACOSTE LOVE OR DIE, BABY. THERE'S NO WAY OUT!

When Your Moodiness Is Moodier Than The Blackest Black On A Mood Ring....

Shortly after the birth of our fourth daughter, Papi reluctantly resigned himself to his inevitable fate. He commented thusly, "I think we should just go ahead and buy Kotex stock since we'll single-handedly guarantee they'll enjoy skyrocketing profits a few years from now." Papi's a practical man. That's why he'll make a fine accountant.

So, I started thinking about maybe building an addition to our house in preparation for the tumultuous future that lay ahead of us. I mean, people have long built storm shelters and fall-out shelters in the event of dire emergency, so why not construct a PMS shelter as a sanctuary for the male minority of the Infidel household during the most dangerous days of the month? Fortuitously enough, I spotted this company truck while they were out working on a local home renovation project.
Who better to build an effective PMS shelter than the very people who understand what it's like to be Moody?

If you need a builder who specializes in the installation of large but tasteful wailing walls, Moody is the one to call. If you need a builder to dig out a bottomless pit of despair right in your very own backyard, Moody ranks number one in pit-of-despair customer satisfaction. If you need a builder to erect a fountain that you may then fill with your salty tears of infinite sorrow, Moody will get the job done!

*Click Here At Humor-Blogs.Com To Bring The Masses A Little Ray Of Sunshiney Infidel Goodness!*

Huked On Fonix Wirked Fo Mee

Okay. I jumped out of my truck this morning in the darkened twilight hours just to capture the magnetic signage marvel slapped onto the tailgate of a pickup in my neighborhood. They spelled computer as 'KOMPUTER?' Seriously? I'm not sure I want a technician poking around at something he can't even spell. If he was trying for alliterative cuteness, why didn't he name his business KNOX KOMPUTER KOMPANY rather than Service? They could have abbreviated it to K.K.K. Maybe I have it all wrong and KOMPUTER is something totally different from COMPUTER. In which case, I want one for Christmas. I don't want to be left out.
File this one in the E For Eelliterate category.

From The 'Its A Dirty Job But Someones Gotta Do It' Files.....

One must always remember to wash ones hands rather vigorously with the strongest anti-bacterial soap available after meeting the acquaintance of a real, live Dick Carrier. That is all.

Double Dave- A Man And His Secret Alter Ego Revealed

What does famed soccer star and paparazzi whore media darling, David Beckham do on his days off?
Well, Mr. Metrosexual covertly ducks into a phone booth to tear off his soccer uniform- revealing the monochromatic violet shirt and tie combo underneath. Then he kisses Skeletal Posh Spice goodbye, and jets off to steamy Houston, Texas where his secret lair awaits......the corner office at a State Farm Insurance Agency.

When acting as a Secret Insurance Agent Man, that old chap, David Beckham drops the formality of his first name to fit in with the regular schmoes. Think about it- most people in sales go by Bob, Ray, Tim, Tony, Bill, Sue, Tom, and Chris instead of Robert, Raymond, Anthony, Timothy, William, Susanna, Thomas, and Christopher/Christine. It's just more casual that way, not to mention the money saved printing out business cards that charge by the letter. To complete his disguise, Dave Beckham even joined a bowling league and dines on the featured lunch special at TGI Friday's with his co-workers.

I guess his life getting paid to kick balls and play BFF to a crazy herd of Scientologists just wasn't all that fulfilling for him. Rumor has it that he's at the top of his game. Well, not the soccer game-he's been very injury-prone and lackluster in that field. But the man shines when he's in his element; selling insurance. I hear that he's the guest of honor at the Southwest Regional Insurance Agent Banquet at the Holiday Inn this year. Way to go Dave! You'll make red jacket status within the year at this rate.

I'm Trying To Keep This Post Clean

How can such a massive glut of similar businesses survive in an overly saturated market? Why, by offering a niche service, that's how. You can't toss a soiled garment around Houston without hitting some sort of dry cleaning establishment. So it's interesting to note the following places and the specialty menu they're focusing on in order to cinch up market share and a tidy sum in the process. Emphasis on tidy....don't nobody want dirty money in this line of work.

The Board Of Directors at Pilgrim Cleaners strive to achieve a puritanical world free of the scourge of dirty Pilgrims. They offer first-rate services to all dirty Pilgrims, and even hired congenial John Wayne lookalikes for their flagship locations to give a big, warm "Howdy Pilgrim!" welcome. From giving a pure-as-the-driven-snow collar the stiffy treatment down to keeping your scarlet letter bright and shiny, Pilgrim Cleaners is there for you!

*Not responsible for any Pilgrim buckle damage that may occur*

Want to make your water fowl a little less, well.......... foul? Bring them on in to Swan's Cleaners. This place and their super bubbly swan-scrubbing action means Tunnel Of Love operators can run their romantic attraction without the fear of stanky swan pollution spoiling up the ambiance. They're also the secret weapon behind Swan Lake which used to be called Mucky Duck Lake.

*After just finishing Eclipse, I want to run Bella Swan through a wash and rinse at Swan's Cleaners. Bella gets done passionately making out with her vampire and then feels up a werewolf not even one hour later? Dirty Girly!*

And finally, we don't have to hold our breaths and maintain a 'wait-and-see' period after elections anymore. Will your selected candidate do as they promise and 'clean house?' I wouldn't bet on it. Luckily, we have an easy solution all wrapped up in a one-stop shop. At Country Cleaners, you can sanitize the land that you love while wringing out the asshats and hanging them up to dry at the same time. They also do shoe repairs and alterations while you wait for your country to get cleansed.

I often over hear people lament about getting 'taken to the cleaners.' Huh. I guess I'll just have to wait for an Infidel Cleaners to open up in this area so I can experience it firsthand.

FUDGE-O-RAMA!

I love me some fudge. You may even say I'm a fudge connoisseur-sampling and casting eyes of lust towards the tantalizing candy store displays with sweet heavenly fudge stacked into neat little tiers, just ripe for the picking. My vast fudge experience has brought me into contact with many flavors and varieties, so I can say without hesitation that the fudge I found below is my least favorite kind. I shudder to think of the advertising for her.......'Phyllis Fudge! Now With More Pieces Of Real Phyllis In Ever Fudgy Bite!'
So, does Phyllis Fudge call her bicycle a FUDGEsicle? When she does her taxes and claims her new nose hair trimmer as a business expense, does the IRS agent roll his eyes and disgustedly say,"'She's always trying to FUDGE on her taxes." Does she tell her kids that Judy Blume's book, 'SuperFUDGE' was written for her? When she eats nuts, does she exclaim loudly, "New and Improved Phyllis Fudge......Now With Nuts!!!!!"? I wonder if she follows the stereotype and bakes FUDGE to give out at Christmas while people whisper amongst themselves, "There goes that FUDGE woman giving out FUDGE again." Maybe she could start her own company. 'FUDGE'S FUDGE.'

With an awesome name like that, she needs to get out of the real estate game and record a hot track to transform her into a Pop Princess. Maybe something like Fergie's 'Fergalicious' except she could call it 'FUDGEalicious.' Mmmmmm, FUDGE. Can you see it now? FUDGE Live And In Concert With Cake. Suh-weet!

Grand Prize Losers Of The Baby Name Game

Tori's naughtiness has left an indelible stain on my once pure and virginal mind with her many unseemly and raunchy fan innuendos. I'm going to have to listen to at least 6 hours of Christian rock to make penance. I hope you're happy now, Tori, turning my wholesome blog into a veritable den of iniquity! So, anyway, today I'm giving all of you the gift of a threesome. Don't get too excited- I'm referring to three recent sightings of some very craptacular names.

*Now that's some OLD Dick!*------------------>

I can't reveal my confidential source to you, but in the past month, I've run across a man named Peter P. VanDong. Yes, P.P Van Dong. Not since Dick VanDyke has the world seen a more unfortunate name. I'm secretly hoping that the P. stands for Piper or Peck. Anyway, he lives in a million dollar house, but can't pony up money for one of his bills. He's a deadbeat. Worse than that, he's a deadbeat who's complained bitterly every single day about getting his service cut while only coughing up a 20 dollar payment for his delinquent account. You can tell a lot from a name. The double euphemism was likely no accident.

Twas a time when I pined away for Bill Nye The Science Guy and I dreamed of him personally teaching me all about reproduction, and one day getting married to him in a lavish ceremony complete with his and hers matching lab coats. Today I spotted this baby announcement with one super crappy made-up name on it.....Deason Wade Nye. No, not, Deacon, which is legitimate, but Deason. Oh Bill, how could you?!!!?? I would have had your baby and named him something nice too. Maybe, William The Science Guy Nye Junior.

And finally, before naming your precious little one, please make sure to google your top name contenders prior to the birth. You don't want your baby to share his or her name with those who have sullied reputations, do you? Case in point, a lovely family we know through Church recently named their baby something that made me break out of my usually super sugary sweet character to remark to my oldest girls, "Whoa, did they name her after an exotic dancer?" To test my theory, I did a quick google search to confirm my suspicions, and found that all but one of the top ten listings showed various strip clubs and adult movies. It seems that a performer who shares the same name with the afore mentioned adorable baby has appeared in a fine feature film called 'Chocolate Honeys 4.' Nice.

If only I could just smack some people upside their heads with a 'Traditional Baby Names' book, the world would be a much better place.

Yeah, This Name Does Make Me Feel ILL!

I spotted this name yesterday while cruising through the hood. ILLISSA? Did they bastardize my name, Melissa, or is it a screwy ILL-mannered attempt at Alyssa/Elissa? I just can't decide. Mainly the word ILL sticks out. ILL, as in sick, ailing, afflicted, nauseous, poopy..... ILL like the rappers in the 80's who used to break it down with a raucous chorus of "You Be ILLIN!" ILL as in ILLegal. Doesn't the yard sign make this a house of ILL repute? It just rouses my insatiable curiosity to no end as to why the parents thought this an attractive name for their offspring. Did they sound it out first? Maybe these folks hail from ILLinois, Land Of Lincoln, and they decided to pay tribute? Certainly, I don't mean them any ILL will. And I don't want anyone to feel ILL at ease, but foisting this crap name on a child seems ILL-advised.

Freakin Puerto Ricans!

Hey, carronin went all Spanish on us by adding J.Lo's latest video to her blog. I'm just playing copycat.
Today's Infidel Jam is brought to you by the fine Musica En Espanol awesomeness of Puerto Rico. Ahhhh, Puerto Rico, the fabled birthplace of Ricky Martin, Jennifer Lopez, Celia Cruz, and the all time Infidel boricua favorite.........CIRCO! Lead singer, Fofe, and his merry band of faux punk musical comrades have crafted an amazing sound that runs the gamut from traditional pop, to cheeky rock, and then back to a classic, spicy Spanish groove. It keeps my musical ADD in check as I never get bored with their songs. "Un Accidente," currently rules as the reigning Infidel favorite. I love how the song kicks off with an Iggy Pop 'Lust For Life' drum beat. CIRCO's music is so good, it will even distract you from the decidedly creepy unattractiveness of Fofe. And, that's not an easy feat to pull off!

Speaking of music, we heard the new Shakira/Beyonce song "Beautiful Liar." Gag. Really, is it necessary to keep repeating your name over and over to make up for a glaringly noticeable lack of decent lyrics? How many times must we hear, "Shakira, Shakira. Beyonce, Beyonce?" So freaking annoying. I like to supplant my own name when singing along though, just for fun. "Melissa, Melissa......Hey!" So, then, we experimented, much like we did when the kids first learned 'The Name Game,' song. Alas, only my children lucky enough to bear a 3-syllabled name could pull it off. My 2-syllabled kids felt really left out and sad that they couldn't make their names work in a Shakira song. So, parents, that's another deciding factor to contemplate when selecting a name for your unborn babies. Please don't short change your kids by giving them anything less than the 3-syllabled names which they so richly deserve. I feel as though I have failed my precious 2-syllabled children and they will have suffer major esteem issues because of it.

Oh, and, uh, yeah, that was me changing the lyrics to Bananarama's version of 'Venus,' as a child to "Goddess of beauty and love, and Melissa was her name." I've got it, yeah baby, I've got it..........a touch of dementia, that is.

The Candy Mann Can!

This real estate agent is in desperate need of a savvy Press Agent. And I'm ready to volunteer my unique 'marketing whore' services for the job. Just envision a whole promotional paraphernalia blitz with my craftily genius slogan boldly emblazoned across them. Yeah, a veritable butt load of plastic combs, coozies, key chains, all printed with "Need To Sell Your House Fast? THE CANDY MANN CAN!" She needs glitz! She needs glamour! She needs huge signs adorned with dancing multi-colored lollipops to take advantage of her sweet, sweet name. I mean, who wouldn't want to buy a house from the Candy Mann? It's the kind of name recognition that earns you immediate attention and fanfare. I'm afraid that dear 'Candace' just isn't capitalizing on the marketing potential that having such an incredible moniker allows her. If Candy Mann called you on the telephone, wouldn't you brag to all your friends that you personally know the Candy Mann? I would.

How about this cute little jingle for her radio and T.V. ads? It goes to the tune of The Candy Man. The original one, not Christina Aguilera's horrifying version.
Who can take a crap house
And shine it up with paint?
Cover up the termites and the cracks. What a Saint!
The Candy Mann, the Candy Mann can
Candy Mann can 'cause she sells a house with love
And makes the 'hood look good....

Candy Mann should just embrace the sweet awesomeness of her name. After all, her sister, Gaye Mann, wasn't nearly as lucky as her. Gaye Mann barely eaks out a living driving an ice cream truck. Believe it or not, people aren't that eager to buy frozen treats from a vehicle that says 'Gaye Mann Ice Cream' on the side. "I scream, you scream, we all scream at Gaye Mann Ice Cream." Poor Gaye Mann.