Nothing doing

The title of this post is a phrase I absolutely despise. You don’t hear it often. In fact, the only time I’ve ever heard it uttered is during a football or basketball game. For example, a phrase might come out of an announcer like, “Handoff to Priest Holmes up the middle…and nothing doing on that carry.” It may be Dick Enberg, it may be someone else, but the fact remains, I hate the phrase.

That said, the phrase turns out to be remarkably sensible for this post: I got nothing. I’m doing nothing. Essentially this post is nothing doing. So in order to change this post’s status from nothing doing to something doing, I’m going to rip of Christiane once again:

Would you rather find a scab in your food at a restaurant or a pubic hair?
I think I would rather find a pubic hair. In fact, I’ve found hairs in my food before that could easily pass for pubic (not counting the 7-incher (yes, I measure it to be sure) I found in high school at Taco Hell). Scabs are different. There’s flesh and blood and maybe, if you’re very fortunate, mucus to be had, and that’s not working for me. I guess it would also depend on whether or not the scab was soft and pale vs. the crispy (throwback to my yesteryears, that one) brownish ones. The soft ones could conceivably go well with crackers or soft cheeses, while the crispy ones could work equally well in a Caesar salad…who knows?

Would you rather eat a tumor after being removed from surgery or chew and swallow someone's eyeball?
Tumor vs. eyeball in the realm of consumption. Wow. Well, I think I’m gonna have to go with the tumor on this one. Add some provolone, mozzarella, marinara sauce, oregano…you got yourself some Tumor Parmigiana. And you know the eyebal’ls got some blackish goo in there…ain’t no way that’s coming out good, regardless of how much oregano you use.

Would you rather your significant other leave you for someone of the same sex or someone of the opposite sex?
Since I’m a guy and I’m married to a woman, I sometimes often subscribe to the threesome fantasy…hey…every guy does. So, I think if my (loving, caring, wonderful, adorable) SockMama were to leave me for a woman, I could at least enjoy the fantasy as I do now. But if she left me for a dude, then I would have to fantasize about that, and frankly, that just ain’t doing it for me.