nonamedufus

Now is that a "duh, winning" smile or what? This is Charlie Sheen posing for a publicity shot for his new show "Anger Management" Okay, that's just my take. What's yours? Leave a caption, or two, or three in the comments. We'll see who takes a bite out of the competition Saturday.

Last week I was tripping around the internet, visiting some of my favourite blogs, and I came across Margaret's little treatise on hugging over at  Nanny Goats in Panties . She's a hugger - a real hugmiester. She says some people dive right into hugs, squeezing like all get out. I commented that I was more a tentative huggy type. I wait until I can gauge the strength of the huggee, before I, the hugger, commit. Now this whole hugging thing got me thinking. In my world we go a bit further. In my world hugging is accompanied by kissing. Now, now, c'mon, we're not all perverts, running around kissing and hugging everyone every chance we get. Especially me. Let me explain. I'm an Anglophone. I grew up shaking hands and giving the wolf cub three-finger salute. Manly stuff, right? Affection? English people don't demonstrate affection. However in the 10 years my Francophone wife and I have been together I've learned an awful lot about affection. Yes, Mrs D i...

Giddyup guys! I have no idea where this picture came from or what it purports to represent. But that didn't stop you guys this week from trotting out some great captions... Alberto Contador will not eat tainted meat at this year's Tour de France.  He will ride it. Raymond I guess this is what they call the Pony Express. Ziva Am I the only one to notice that they don"t seem to be peddling, but thrusting instead? It's why you need a trojan for your horse. Vaguema x And in a rare case of art reflecting reality our winner crossed the finish line with... I think you can expect the captions to be kind of Spartan this time around. Mike Way to go, Mike. You be hangin' with dufus this week. Speaking of Spartans, maybe we could go see the 7th place Senators this weekend. They're playing Boston. That'd be much better than watching the basement-dwelling Montreal Canadiens don't you think? Thanks to everyone for ...

We live in the lap of luxury in the dufus household. We own two cars, watch two TVs, use two laptops and best of all we have two fridges.  It kinda reminds me of that old sign in the window of the barbershop when I was a little kid "Two barbers. No waiting." But I digress. When we renovated our kitchen we bought a new fridge. We got rid of the fridge and the freezer we had in the basement. And we moved the old kitchen fridge to the garage. A second fridge is great for beer. It's not so good for food. Because what happens is you forget about the food. Outta sight, outta mind as they say. You see we often use that second fridge to store leftovers ad vegetables - two things I'm not so keen on. But don't tell Mrs. Dufus. Don't get me wrong. My wife is quite the cook. She's a regular Chef Ramsey in the kitchen - minus the curse words...well, most of the time. But to me something delicious the first time around sometimes loses it's appeal when chilled or...

I'm not exactly sure what's going on here. Maybe you do. Give it a spin and leave a caption in the comments. We'll see what happens when we cross the finish line Saturday.

Satellite's gone Up to the skies Things like that drive me Out of my mind I don't think Lou Reed would mind my mashing up the title of his excellent song . You see, that's exactly what happened to me Sunday. Waiting for company to show up for dinner, I turned on the TV to catch some of the Northern Trust Open golf game in which Phil Mickelson, Keegan Bradley and Bill Haas were bumping along exchanging the lead on the final holes. Mickelson had won the week previous so I was pulling for him. The company arrived and I went to the door to greet them. 'Cause usually when you have company that's what you do. You let them in. My friend, Bernard, was sporting sunglasses and said something to the effect of coming over to see the stars. I joked that must be why he was wearing his sunglasses. Funny, no? No he was talking about stars in the sky. More specifically, the space station. Turns out the International Space Station was scheduled to pass over my house...

I think this guy used to be a submarine commander and spent too much time peering through a periscope. He's now afflicted with that submarine captain malady known as periscope eyes. Unfortunately no amount of saying "up periscope" will fix things. Maybe he just needs some V-eye-agra. Okay, maybe it's just me. The observation, not the picture. Although I do have an eye out for a winner. Let's see what this week brought us, shall we. Still better looking than Sarah Jessica Parker moooooog One of the rare but possible dangers of LASIK eye surgery. Brett Minor All in favour? OK. The "eyes" have it - that is officially gross Laughingmom Our winner this week is a dear friend who knows a little bit about me and my passions. Woah, woah, woah. Not my passion. That's passions with an "s". Yeah. The tragic results of Dufus' attempt to follow the golf pro's advice "keep your eyes on the ball...

Went golfing yesterday morning with my son. I say golfing but it's really hitting a golf ball into a huge video screen. It's just not the same as the real thing. But with several feet of snow on the ground here, it's the only option...unless I go golfing with a snow shovel. So the way it works is you get to choose from a number of courses, ranked in order of difficulty. I think I must have accidentally chosen the most difficult course there was. It was called Devil's Island. The name should have been my first clue. I tell you if this course exists in real life I'm never going there. I came away with a score of 140...my worst game ever. Maybe I lacked the drive. After missed shots and mulligans I was feeling pretty green. To my mind this was not a fair way to play golf. It was downright rough. In fact, I was so ticked off being around me was a real hazard. It was as if I had a chip on my shoulder. But I refused to lie down. However, the exertion...

Eye-yie-yei that's one gross pic. Pupils of Pause Ponder and Pun sure haven't seen anything else like this before. Leave a caption in the comments. We'll keep an eye out for a winner Saturday.

I'm facing a dilemma. (That's dilemma, not dill enema.) My darling wife doesn't want to do anything special for Valentine's Day. I asked her if she'd like to go out for dinner. Thoughtful, right? Actually a tapas restaurant sent me an e-mail suggesting I make a reservation for Valentine's. Some years I'll completely forget about the day of love until it's too late. Thanks to that tapas restaurant, though, this year I was way ahead of myself. But no, my beloved isn't interested in going out. Okay. So I'll save some money on skipping a romantic dinner. And besides, when you think about it what is Valentine's Day all about anyway. The guy - or guys - it was named after was killed. Yep. There were 3 guys all named Valentine and they were martyred. So, like, we're celebrating their deaths? No, well, history tells us one of them started this whole lovey-dovey day business by sending his jailer's daughter a note - now get this - "f...