Look on the bright side: your Monday might be sucking today:
…but at least you got to Monday. Unlike these assholes:
Speaking of which, I bet Rep. Rashida Tlaib has a few sudden vacancies among her staff.
Okay, that’s enough of that fun stuff. Back to our normal Monday fare:
And just for the hell of it:
When your first serious movie role is that of a nymphomaniac at age 22, and you have to look the word up in the dictionary… that’s Rhonda Fleming for you.
And y’all know how much I love redheads.
It’s a good thing she came along when color became the thing in movies, or else we’d have lost that lovely red hair, and had to make do with pics like this:
Just… exquisite.
So having read my post about One For The Road, and having watched said show for yourselves, now is the time for y’all to pick the dream sports car of your youth to retrace the steps of Clarkson, May and Hammond as they drove across Zimbabwe.
As I pointed out in the post, these were the cars they chose:
Hammond: Ford Capri
May: Triumph Stag
Clarkson: Lancia Monte Carlo
…and highly interesting choices they were, too.
My choice is this:
It’s getting tough inside my mind…
Proving that the Scots have no sense of humor when it comes to matters sartorial, we have this example of woke groveling:
Can’t see why the NYfT would feel they have to apologize; I think it’s frigging hilarious. [makes note for future use]
Side note: the Times has Scottish readers? Who knew?
As I wrote only yesterday about the silliness of pubs allowing children inside their premises, and on many occasions about my permanent dislike of the whole “gastropub” nonsense, you can imagine my irritation upon reading this article about Britain’s best pubs, and finding the following results:
Best Pub For Families
and
Best Pub For Food
Bloody hell; two anger buttons for the price of one article.
But wait! there’s more!
Best Pub For Dogs
I need a drink. Thanks to the article though, there are at least three pubs I know not to visit.