Hello Moto.

You've seen the new advert for Motorola's new RAZR phone, and while you're not sure how you feel about the phone yet--it does look kind of TRON-ish, but razors are for slitting wrists, not telecommunication--you are positively mad about the commercial, especially the song in the commercial. "How can I get that music onto my iPod?" you wonder aloud. Allow me: The artist is Dabrye, and the song is "Hyped-Up Plus Tax".

Speaking of moto, today we're adding a link to the "links" section to your left. It's for a page called Twisting Asphalt that our good friend Dylan Weiss writes. Well organized, informative, constantly updated and rigorously maintained, it's nothing at all like this site and will most certainly keep your attention if it's Italian motorcycles that turn you on.

Speaking of turn-ons, I had the distinct pleasure of witnessing a performance by Dita Von Teese the other night at a party. I'd never heard of her before then, but I'm certainly aware of her now. She does an old-fashioned burlesque show that is more erotic than anything you'll ever see at your local strip joint; I'd go so far as to call it tasteful. By the way- I, uh, don't have a 'local' strip joint. I don't even know where one is. I frown on that sort of thing. Despicable.

One last thing: just saw one of those Duracell commercials where Jeff Bridges tells us about the exotic things Duracell batteries are doing, such as powering NASA equipment and Jon Bon Jovi's microphone. However, in this new one we learn that they're also good for powering home defibrulators, such as the one they shown being used on a collapsed high school basketball player. We cut to a lady with a Duracell-powered digital camera, taking graduation pictures of her alive-because-of-defibrulator son. The lesson? Use Duracell batteries...or you might die. Kudos to these guys for going all the way.

More Gym Offenders

In the running items department, here's two more for our "most annyoing people at the gym" list.

The Guy With the Offensive B.O.
It's not just annoying, it's debilitating. This guy got onto the elliptical machine next to me the other night and I nearly fell off. As my old college buddy Omri used to say: "somebody call HazMat." There's no other machines available and I only have 4 minutes left, so at first I'm just trying to ignore it. Not working. I have to finish this workout, so I adjust my breathing: in the mouth then out the nose, exactly the opposite of how Mr. Miyagi instructs Daniel. I look like I'm hyperventilating, but I can't smell anything so I'm still conscious. Girl to his left gives up and evacuates the area. Meanwhile, I think he's starting to get a little curious about why I keep looking at him out of the corner of my eye. Another girl starts up on the abandoned machine next to him, but leaves within seconds of discovering the problem. I finally finish and step off the rig to get a good look at this guy. Yikes, he's not even sweaty. He's at the beginning of his workout and this is how he smells. Hey buddy, wasn't that weird how three different people all left machines in you immediate vicinity within 4 minutes of your arrival?

The Guy Wearing a Parka
Saw this guy on the same gym trip the other day. Dude decides he'd like to wear a parka while working the weights. Not a warm up jacket or pullover kind of thing, but an actual North Face, down-insulated Everest expedition jacket like the ones you see Green Bay fans wearing during January games at Lambeau. But wait: the thing that throws my set of upright rows into a tailspin is the fact that he's wearing this Michelin man jacket with regular shorts. Just a gigantic black jacket walking around the gym with a pair of white, pasty legs sticking out underneath. My body starts to overheat just looking at this display. Larry David's never around when you need him: "Hey pal, what's...what's the deal with the jacket here?" There ought to be a law.