TR: These are the good years for Barb and me. It's March, and spring is coming. I took the car to a car wash and when I got home the doors were frozen shut and I was trapped. I called the fire department, and they used the jaws of life to get me out. Which caused some damage to the car. Which our insurance does not cover. But I've always meant to ride my bike more, so it has its good side too. Barb was upset, so she went and got her hair frosted. Which made her feel more positive about herself.

SS: Well what do you think, Jim? Do you like it?

TR: It's sort of extreme, Barb. When you walked in, I don't know who you were.

SS: I'm a blonde, Jim. I've been blonde for 20 minutes now and already I can feel this sandbag of guilt and shame I've been carrying around just sliding off my back. I feel so free!

TR: Barb. Why do so many blondes move to L.A.?

SS: What?

TR: It's easier to spell.

SS: Oh come on now, Jim-don't you think it looks good?

TR: A blonde walks down the street and sees a banana peel ahead, and she says, "here we go again."

SS: Jim, I'm not a real blonde. So this doesn't apply to me.

TR: How do you sink a submarine full of blondes? Knock on the hatch.

SS: Well great. I go out and I do something nice for myself and all you can do is make fun of it.

TR: They're just jokes, Barb. Lighten up.

SS: Lighten, up, Jim'it's sexist--

TR: It's funny.

SS: Oh yeah? Well how about this'how do you keep a middle-aged guy with a receding hairline occupied for hours? Huh?

TR: I don't want to know.

SS: You write "please turn over" on both sides of a piece of paper. Yes. See?


TR: It doesn't make sense, Barb.

SS: Sure it does.

TR: Middle-aged men with receding hairlines aren't funny, Barb. They're depressing. Blondes are funny.

SS: Whatever. Just forget it.

TR: What do you call a--

SS: No no. Say no more. I'm going to march straight back to that salon and have her re-do me as a mousy brown. Just like you like it. And we'll just forget this ever happened.

TR: Barb. I wonder if you've been getting enough ketchup.

SS: What about ketchup?

TR: Ketchup contains natural mellowing agents that help you maintain your sense of humor in the face of harmless jokes.

SS: I don't know if I'd call them harmless. I mean how would you feel if there was a whole category of jokes called "man lodged in a recliner watching tv," huh? How would you feel then?

TR: I'd feel good. Validated.
SS: Oh never mind. I'm going to the kitchen to get some ketchup.


These are the good times,
The songs of wrens and sparrows.
Crocuses and daisies
Black dirt in wheelbarrows
Ketchup is flowing
On your huevos rancheros.
GK: Ketchup, for the good times.

RD (SINGS): Ketchup, ketchup.