What started out as a rather lousy day is beginning to mellow a little. I had a dentist appointment this morning that didn’t exactly go as planned, but after muttering to myself for the last few hours I’ve decided that I won’t let anybody bully me into an overpriced dental treatment I don’t want or need, in this case $775 TO DEEP CLEAN SIX STUPID TEETH. (That is not a typo.) I’m feeling very empowered right now as a crabby senior citizen who will not take crap any more.
Mazel tov to me!
In other news, season three of “Top Chef Masters” debuts tonight on Bravo and I think you should set up a series recording with your DVR so you won’t miss an episode.
I love this program even though I have no clue what these people are cooking most of the time. However, unpronounceable ingredients are not the issue here. With “Top Chef” you focus more on the crazy egos, the super-human knife skills and the impressive presentation techniques, such as a teeny little comma-shaped smear of purple cauliflower puree beneath a tap-dancing oyster with shredded spark plugs. Please don’t miss “Top Chef Masters.”
And this provides a convenient segue. Speaking of masters, the 2011 PGA Masters Tournament starts tomorrow at Augusta National. I always enjoy watching golf on TV but take strong exception to anybody who refers to golf as a “sport” and to golfers as “athletes.” Face it, golf is a game like croquet or a hobby like taxidermy, but it’s not a SPORT played by ATHLETES ... especially if they’re overweight, middle-aged arthritic guys with man-boobs like Phil Mickelson (see below), can pay somebody else to shlep their equipment and then spend half a day riding on a cart with a cooler full of beer.
Please.
Does anybody else have a craving for pizza? Thank you for reading this.
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