THE GREAT GADFLY:

Cubicle With A View

I tried watching the American Music Awards last night, and was amazed at how live programming ostensibly dedicated to the best of modern music could be so utterly and completely wringed of anything even remotely resembling blood. Oh, sure - we got to see Sharon Osbourne flexing her natural muscle as The Hostess With The Mostess, and it's always worth a chuckle or two to see Papa Ozzy stumble around stage doing his slobbery little Dracula dance. Jack Osbourne, of course, is the Potsie of the reality TV generation, and Kelly gives all the real life Tracy Turnblads of the world someone to alternately love and loathe. Having said all that, however, The Osbournes only lent an air of Reality TV flair to the proceedings in that reality can be truly banal, and banal was sadly on the top, middle and end of the evening's menu. Tim McGraw and Elton John opening the show with that lovely rendition of "Tiny Dancer"? Wotta load. You know it's bad when Christina Aguilera can walk off with the most moving performance of the evening. Though I was truly touched by Cheryl Crow's studded "War Is Not The Answer" babydoll tee, and her heartfelt monotone plea to "do, uh, whatever you can for peace." That really took some stones, man. And not just the rolling kind.

Ultimately, I found myself more transfixed by the E! True Hollywood Story on porn star Savannah, which was naturally more "Showgirls" than "Showgirls" itself.

So I started a new job this week. Holy hallelujah, I think I'm going to have to start singing the theme to "Alice" on the way to this new gig of a morning, 'cuz I think this girl is gonna stay a while. At my new job, they cart in a load of fruit and pastries for the staff every morning. The office coffee is sublime. They gave me a cubicle with a window, and a view of Lake Michigan. My boss has threatened to crepe paper my desk as some form of welcoming ritual. I just ended two days of training with a woman who couldn't conceal her love for Tom Waits. I think I could do much worse. Hell, I HAVE done much worse. Everyone's nice. Urbane. Funny. It's creepy.

At this point, I'm just happy to have a reason to get up and dressed in the morning. It's a welcome return, as much as I know I'll be whining up a storm over the daily grind sooner than you can say "ne'er do well". Oh, me.

Lately, I've been exploring the world of egg noodles. I think egg noodles are the Ramen noodles for people who hate Ramen noodles. Egg noodles are cheap as dirt, take 2 seconds to cook, and can be purchased in a premium "no yolks" variety for a mere 20 cents more per bag. You can add anything you like to egg noodles, because they taste like nothing and have the texture of chewed gum.

Now I will watch a brand new trauma-filled episode of "24" - TV's sexiest death-rattle - and I will surely throw up all them egg noodles before the hour's up...tickBOOMtockBOOM, tickBOOMtockBOOM...