I’ve Got a Secret

For those of you that do not have the pleasure of living in the San Francisco Bay Area, I have a well kept secret for you: the perfect time of year to be here is now. The weather is spectacular—85° in San Jose today, currently 75° at 8:00pm—I’ve yet to see a cloud in the brilliant blue skies over the last two days, there is no fog in The City, tourists have left for places far colder and stranger (well, stranger by our standards)… but the best part: a plethora of hot, half-naked men!

They are everywhere! With their summer tans and still sporting their muscles they’ve spent a summer perfecting, they move about—running or playing basketball… gloriously shirtless. Gloriously. Shirtless. Let the rest of the country worry about cooling down, we are in the middle of a terrific Indian Summer and I am enjoying it to the fullest.

On my way home I saw a number of guys running about shirtless and I almost crashed three times (they were well worth dealing with the worst insurance agent). I’m always amazed to see in real life guys with bodies I usually only see in porn. It’s just amazing… and so wonderful… and it’s all mine for the ogling—leering as some friends have noted. Either way, I’m going to enjoy the view completely.

…sigh…

This will go on for a few more weeks and then the leaves will quickly turn and drop. The weather will get chilly (face it: the weather never gets that bad here), and people will bundle up in long pants, light sweaters and the occasional jackets, denying me my precious view. Guys won’t run as much, they’ll workout indoors, or they’ll stop working out and I’ll have even less to look at (or more, depending on how you view that).

But for now, we are in the middle of this wonderful time of year and I’m enjoying the ogling (leering) to the fullest.

Just don’t tell anyone, because it’s a secret.

"Would you believe...?"

Don Adams has passed away at 82. Get Smart was one of my favorite shows while growing up. If you want to know why, click HERE. Thankfully, through reruns, Maxwell Smart will live on forever, because a voice like that should never be silenced.

I wish I could write something a little more elegant, but I’m not too good at obituaries. As Max would say, “Sorry about that, Chief.”

[Cone of Silence]

Turning Japanese...

Wednesday was my niece’s fifth birthday. She’s an adorable and precocious child—which is wonderful to be around… for a very limited time. I’m too immature to be around others who are just as immature as me—we fight over toys too much (it’s not me: they won’t share).

We arrived at my brother’s house and the L’il Tyke (LT) was so excited, she ran out and immediately bypassed anyone not physically holding a gift. She eventually said “hello” after being prompted. She’s five and adorable, so she’s forgiven… sort of.

She burned through the gifts in about 40 seconds: She’d rip open the package, pull out whatever was inside, shout “neat!” and then tear into the next package: “Neat!” and then she’d tear in to the next package. Guess what she said then? “Cool.” (Kids—they keep you guessing.)

She opened the stuffed dog that my sister and I bought her (along with a cute little dress), and immediately wanted to name it “Princess.”

“But, honey,” I said, “you name everything Princess…” (She does. Which makes it hard when she’s crying and wants “princess.” There are 637 items in her roomed named princess—including three pairs of sneakers and her dresser).

“Princess!” she commanded.

I picked up the dog, turned it over and smiled, “But he’s a boy! You can’t name himt princess.”

My mother, immediately started in, “She wants it to be a girl,” she said with her death stare (meaning: she wants it to be a girl, so goddamnit, it’s going to be a girl!”)

I pointed the dog’s crotch towards my mother and said, “What do you call that?”

“The label, Mr. Smarty, now don’t be obscene and put it down.”

Eventually, my LT decided to name the dog Karina… which everyone immediately blamed me for. Apparently, it’s a little too close to the tragedy in New Orleans… (what’s the emoticon for eye-rolling?) Karina is not Katrina, so back off! If she remembers the name in a month, no one else will remember the hurricane. Seriously, how many people have stopped naming their kids Andrew since Hurricane Andrew practically wiped the East Coast off the map in ’8? What about Hugo? Camille? All still very popular kid’s names… (or so I would assume… how would I know?)

Anyhow, the dog was named so, my sister-in-law announces we are going to a “Japanese restaurant” for dinner, because LT liked Japanese cuisine. She’s freakin’ five, what does she know about cuisine? And Japanese? She’s a sushi expert at freakin’ five?! At five my menu choices would be either hamburger or hot dog.

I should note that I have a slight aversion to fish and sushi in particular. By “slight” I mean that fish—the smell, the taste, the mere concept of—makes me ill. I have been known to eat tuna… if it’s smothered in tons of mayonnaise, a dab of mustard and a little pickle relish and anything else that will completely obliterate any notion that it was once eating, swimming, and pooping in some sort of body of water.

Now, I have also been known to go to a “Crab Feed” at a club with my father once a year. First, it is ONCE A YEAR. Two, they serve plenty of alcohol, tons of raviolis and a good Cesar salad with no anchovies in the dressing… and (I can’t state this enough) plenty of alcohol. Also, they have a strong tartar sauce that can completely take away any notion that the crab was once eating, scuttling, and pooping about the bottom of the ocean. (Seriously… scuttling, eating, AND pooping just don’t mix people!)

My sister-in-law assured me that the restaurant was not a sushi-bar, but a Japanese restaurant serving “all sorts of Japanese fair.” I’m not sure what “Japanese fair” is, but I hesitantly agreed, after all, it was my adorable niece’s fifth birthday.

“What’s the name of this place?” I asked innocently as we walked out the door.

“Zoom-o Sushi… I think. I’m not sure about the ‘Zoom-o’ part…”

Son of a…!

So, we load my parents into the car, which is an adventure in itself. First, because my sister has an SUV (mind you, it’s a Honda Passport, not a Ford Excursion or some other giant SUV) and my parent’s grunt and groan as they struggle to figure out how to get in the car. It’s a car, you’ve been doing this for your entire lives, why is this such an effort?

I jokingly offered to help them with their seatbelts… which turned out not to be a joke. They couldn’t pull the seatbelt far enough without it locking, so they had to pull as much belt as possible out. Then they spent the next five to seven minutes trying to figure out how to lock it in. They grunted and groaned… “Just go… I think they’re broken,” my father kept muttering, which was the perfect idea: two 70 year-olds, unsecured, in the back of a moving vehicle in rush-hour traffic—safe as kittens!

So, I had to turn around in the front seat, and in 4.5 seconds managed to get the “broken” seatbelts to work. And we’re on our way!

We arrived at “Somesortofplace-o Sushi” in probably the rattiest strip mall in the county—and, mind you, we’ve got a lot of ratty strip malls. However, it is just past the only Del Taco (home of the “Macho Nacho!”) in the valley, so I thought I might keep that as an option in case it all turned horribly, horribly wrong. As we walked in, I noticed a number of large posters—all with freakin’ raw fish (chopped, sliced, diced, beaten, crushed… everything except cooked. Things had suddenly turned horribly, horribly wrong (I’m not sure if they were ever right, but I thought I would sound like I was making an effort.. .which I clearly wasn’t).

We removed our shoes—which excited LT until the moment I removed my shoes… yeah, it was pretty bad. It didn’t help that I had a big hole in my sock, so the big toe on my left foot was exposed…

The seating was something that only a sadist would design and a masochist would enjoy sitting on. Picture a solid, rectangular-raised platform/bench , about three feet high, tucked into a corner with a table rising out of the center, leaving a space in the center where one could put their legs… if one climbed up on the platform and crawled around to the other side. Already this was fun!

We sat down and they handed us the menu and page after page of uncooked items were listed, each of them more repellant and less appetizing that the last. I began to wish I had charged my cell phone before I left, because I wanted to place my to-go order at Del Taco immediately.

My brother felt that singing “Turning Japanese” at the table would be a terrific idea, which instantly put my moral outrage into high gear. The day was getting better and better…

The adorable Japanese waitress started taking our order—my brother immediately ordered two bottles of saki, some Japanese beer, and some wine for the folks. Oh, alcohol can only improve things…

Every time our waitress came by and graciously took our orders, my brother was saying something either vaguely offensive or outright offensive to the Japanese people. At one point, he sensed my extreme embarrassment, so he masked his bigotry by making comments in a German accent (I shit you not). “Oof,” he attempted in his lame accent, “zee saki is here! Das is gud!” Our waitress thought my brother was either an equal opportunity offender, or a complete idiot (I hope she caught my oh-so-subtle ‘crazy circles’ I was making with my finger by my head).

Salvation came when I noticed on the back page of the menu, in fine print: “Teriyaki Chicken.” Hurray! Everyone was ordering some sort of sea creature, my sister-in-law ordered “Sashimi,” which she thought meant tuna. It didn’t. She was incredibly disappointed when some sort of fishy thing arrived that was not tuna.* I was glad she was not enjoying herself as well. Now if only I could find a way to get the rest of the table to hate their food, they’d all have an idea of what I was going through. (I do not like suffering alone.)

Soon, the orders of fried, battered and beaten fish arrived. I kept chanting “Macho Nachos… Macho Nachos” as the food practically swam up to the table and flopped onto the plates.

The food was very good (according to those fish-loving types) and my Teriyaki Chicken was really good as well. It’s amazing what a little heat and a lot of sauce can do to something. Maybe they should try that on the fish?

My father got Shrimp Tempura, which my mother kept “trying” and eventually finished off. I’m not sure what LT or The Nephew ate, because they were hardly at our table—they spent much of the evening jumping off the platform/benches and tumbling precariously close to the birthday cake.

My brother kept the steady flow of alcohol coming, so I’m not sure if he got less racist (or as he said, “Am I being lacist?”) or I was getting more drunk. Either way, I didn’t care anymore—those benches made my ass hurt and I kept thinking of the Macho Nachos just steps away.

And then it happened: LT got too jumpy too close to the cake and it landed perfectly upside down. Oh, the tears! The kitchen staff running over to see if someone cut off a finger because the scream was so loud! Hey, I was really looking forward to that cake… a few tears were in order. Oh, and LT cried a bit too, I’m not sure, I couldn’t see through my tears or hear through my sobs.

We then ate our smashed cake in near silence. My mother attempted to save the day with, “Oh, I think it tastes much better like this!” Great mom, even a five year-old didn’t buy that. Someone had to do something bold to get us back on track, “Sushi shooters!” I cried! (Oh, right… like I’d do that).

Since The Nephew is ten and I’m still operating at a ten year-old level, I flicked a bit of cake at him and he immediately laughed and flicked a bit back in retaliation. LT saw that this and wanted in on it, which meant everyone else wanted to get in on the cake flicking. Even my mother flicked a bit of cake around the table and we were all quickly laughing. All was well and everyone was happy again—including me in a Japanese restaurant.**

So what lessons have we learned?
1. Fish sucks
2. Karina is a pretty good name for a stuffed dog…
3. Any restaurant with the name “Sushi” in the name can’t be trusted.
4. Never take my brother to any ethnic restaurants***
5. Del Taco’s Macho Nacho is the greatest nacho ever
6. Food fights always save the day.


*Like it makes a difference: it’s fish…

**The waitress wasn’t happy at all. “You people no nice! You cra-a-a-z-zy! Why you do this? Wait… why I talk this way? I American! I born in Campbell! I no talkie this way! You lacist! You lacist!” [I offered her a $20 if I could write her that way and she said for an extra Hamilton I could even have her say “me love you long time”—God bless capitalism!]

***I fear for the folks at The Olive Garden (not for my brother, but in general… because it’s such a bad restaurant).

Reporting on Rita
Is it just me, or does it seem like every time a hurricane hits, CNN grabs Anderson Cooper and literally throws him outside in the wind and rain to report on it?! I’m not sure what he’s supposed to report, because there is not much to report on from outside other than it’s cold, wet and very, very, very windy. As I’m watching right now, Anderson has just told Aaron Brown for the fifth time in the last four minutes that 1) it is raining really hard, and 2) that it is very, very, very windy.

Chad Myers, the CNN meteorologist, just explained to Anderson that the wind near the eye will move from 50 mph (where it is now) to 90 mph. “However,” he noted, “it won’t move 50, 60, 70, etc. It will move from 50 to 90 almost immediately.” I wasn’t watching on my TV with TiVo, but I think if you slow-mo’d the footage you could see the moment when Anderson crapped in his pants.

Because the wind is so loud, Anderson wasn’t quite sure he heard Chad correctly. “Am I to understand that you said it will go from 50 – 90 in seconds?”

“Yes.”

[Blank stare from Anderson... and possible crapping in his pants.]

For the love of Mike, Anderson! Get inside—you’re too cute to be out in weather like that. Can’t we get someone annoying like Al Roker or Willard Scott out there?

CNN also has Rob Marciano (who is quite adorable in his own right) and Dr. Sanjay Gupta standing outside as well. Poor Rob is reporting from what looks like a parking lot and reporting that “there is not a lot of debris flying about.” Um, Rob? Wherever there is debris, you don’t want to be there. I keep expecting to see a boat fly by…

And then there is Dr. Gupta (yet another good looking guy). However, while the rain is coming down hard behind him, he’s completely dry and the wind isn’t bothering him at all! Anderson and Rob are practically having their skin removed by the force of the rain and the good doctor really only needs a light sweater. It must be nice to be a doctor…

Now CNN has cut to Randy Kaye who is standing near a wrought iron fence… if the wind picks up any more, I have a feeling I know where she’s going to end up. She just mentioned that the palm trees that she is standing next to, have just recently been planted. Hello? Do you understand that roots take a long time establish themselves? Lady, you need to be standing somewhere else… like Oregon.

I decided to check out the idiots at FOX and they never disappoint. Shepard Smith is standing in a street and he’s taking a pounding. Sean Hannity is interviewing him and it’s clear that neither of them really knows what’s going on. I think they’ve read the briefs, but they don’t understand what is really happening. Shepard actually said, “With all these storms it makes you wonder just what is making this happen?” Then he paused for a second… Oops. Did he just insinuate Global Warming? “Uh… these are cyclical,” he said desperately trying to save his ass, “they had big storms like this in the 40’s and 50’s… but I’m not sure if they had two in a row.” He was immediately followed by a reporter stating that the Governor of Texas had asked for our prayers. Solid reporting by FOX!

Is there a better way to indicate tragic circumstances are afoot than with an elegant logo? Well, CNN has a simple, yet elegant Rita logo and I really like it. I guess the only better thing would be to paste it by Anderson Cooper standing in a hurricane.


[okay, I promised a funny one… I’m still thinking about it—I’m such a crappy writer. I just throw the words down and go, so I can’t start typing unless I have a basic idea and an ending, so I'm still thinking... check back tomorrow.]

Scary Quote

“Naturally, the common people don’t want war, but after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. This is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in every country.”
--Hermann Goering,

Speaking at the Nuremberg Trials after WW II

I think I just died a little inside…

(Cheer up: I’m working on something funny for tomorrow…)

Arrr! Don't forget to talk like a pirate today!

They Got Shoe!

Thank you so much to those who donated… the list is long and distinguished and a number of you have donated VERY generously to this great cause. I would like to thank (in no particular order),

Robert Joss
Wylea Kirkpatrick
Alexandra Lion
Stefan Nagel
Kenneth Shotts
Sarah Stone
Ann Templeton
Jule Torre
Christian Wheeler

In addition to the previous notations, you have helped me get to over $1500 in online donations! May thanks to your generosity.

For those of you who wish to donate, you still can by going to

Take a Licking and Keep on Ticking


Yahoo is celebrating Advertising Week, which, interestingly enough, I’ve never heard of—and you’d think these guys would know a thing or two about getting the word out.

To properly celebrate Advertising Week (September 26 – 30) they are conducting a poll on the greatest advertising icons and greatest advertising slogans. Some I haven’t seen or heard in years, others have worn so thin on my psyche that too never see them again in my life still wouldn’t be enough.

Click here to vote!

JDRF Update #1

I'd like to thank these generous donors for helping me get to my goal (but especially for helping the kiddies):

Sandy B.
Diane L.
Kathy L.
Jill P.

You were all very generous and I appreciate your support!

I’m a Quasi Hit!

Well, after several years, I’ve finally posted 1000 unique visitors to this website. Wow. Over 1000 people are more bored now than if I wasn’t writing at all…

Just a couple of stats to bore you with and I’ll let you get on your way, because I know you’re busy and can’t stay past your average of 260 seconds before zipping off to… well, that costs me to look up that information, so I’m just going to assume you leave my site and head immediately to the 700 Club or the NRC. After all, that is my target audience.

Only 16 of the 50 US states have visited my page… I’m definitely a Blue State kind of guy—however, Ohio, Florida and Texas did make a showing (a lot from Texas, actually…). I gotta work on the other, er, what is it? 23 states, or something like that? How many are there now? And do we really need that many? (Seriously, a North AND South Dakota? West Virginia is about as big as a zit I have on my ass right now… seriously, let’s tighten this up, people. And Rhode Island… why? I mean, really. Why?) Okay, so where was I…?

Ah, my precious… precious blog.

I’ve been visited by inhabitants of nine different countries (not counting the US). I’m not surprised by the UK or Germany… but Malaysia? Hungary (Lukas… is that you?) But I’m most surprised at Peru. Actually, not that they visited, but that they exist at all. Really, you’re the Rhode Island of South America… why isn’t someone on the UN working on this? Get a map and start working on this.

Referrals (How I LOVE Them)

The top five referrals from search engines are as follows:
1) Giada De Laurentiis brought in the most. Searches I’m particularly fond of are: “Giada Boobs” and “everyday italian host big boobs”
2) Tickle was the second biggest search on the web with such inquiries as “Finger tickle,” “tickle boys,” and my personal favorite: “tickle uncut dick.” Thanks for stopping in and I hope you enjoyed your Tickle… (you perverts)
And, finally, my personal favorite:
3) "vincent price's grave" Who the fuck ARE you people?

Lastly, I’d like to thank Google for their help when someone is searching for Slap and Tickle, they ask: Do you mean: slap and tackle? Thanks Google Geeks… thank you very, very, very much.

I would sincerely like to thank those few of you who do actually read my blog (and comment… God bless you for commenting—it validates me and my sad little life…). It is nice to know that someone, somewhere at sometime is reading what I wrote… even in Peru.

Walk This Way
Once again, I’m participating in the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation Walk-a-thon. Last year I raised just over $3000—and as much as I would like to hit that amount again, with the victims of Katrina being in such significant need, I’ve dropped my goal to $2500. I’m still not sure I’ll hit it, but I can I try.

The goal of the Walk to Cure Diabetes is to raise $86 million to help fund research for a cure for type 1 diabetes and its complications. Type 1, or juvenile, diabetes, is a devastating, often deadly disease that affects millions of people--a large and growing percentage of them children.

Many people think type 1 diabetes can be controlled by insulin. While insulin does keep people with type 1 diabetes alive, it is most certainly not a cure. There are many challenges for those who are living with type 1 diabetes, but there are many severer complications, which are often fatal, caused by the disease.

However, a cure for type 1 diabetes is within reach! JDRF funding has assisted in most major scientific breakthroughs in type 1 diabetes research to date, as well as funding the majority of type 1 diabetes research worldwide.

That's the bad news... and yes, it's pretty bad.

The good news, though, is that a cure for type 1 diabetes is within reach. In fact, JDRF funding and leadership is associated with most major scientific breakthroughs in type 1 diabetes research to date. And JDRF funds a major portion of all type 1 diabetes research worldwide, more than any other charity.

If you wish to make a donation, I would really be grateful. And anyone who donates online, will get a mention on my blog (I’m not sure if that will help or hurt getting donations…) If you give over $100, I’ll not only put you on the blog, I’ll write a little something about you. In fact, I’ll create a FABulous story about you and your generosity (both monetarily and ‘between the sheets’) that will surely get you noticed by members of the law enforcement community. (I know from experience, that after the shame, lawsuits, and media attention, you’ll laugh about it).

So, please, please give if you can. If you can’t… go do something nice for someone else and let’s spread a little love around.

Click here for my donation page (or the link on the sidebar).

DONATION ALERT!
My first online donation was made by Ms. Wylea Kirkpatrick, who is herself getting ready for a charity event: The Nike Marathon with Team in Training (benefiting the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society) in October – she is not only participating but is a mentor to other participants as well. If you’re one of those people that has crap-loads of cash, why not spread that love to Wylea as well? Thank you Wylea for your generous support and your charitable efforts.

So Long, Little Buddy
Bob Denver, the beloved Gilligan on Gilligan’s Island passed away at 70. Gilligan. 70. Who’d have thought?

Sure the show was inane, unrealistic, and silly, but all the best shows of the 60’s were: Green Acres, Petticoat Junction, and Beverly Hillbilly’s to name a few. But, it never failed to make me laugh. I don’t think Gilligan ever dropped a coconut--or some other heavy object--on the Skipper’s foot that I didn’t laugh.

When I was a kid and was sick, I’d crawl into my parent’s bed and watch TV and feel better. Game shows were in the morning, but in the afternoon, I Dream of Jeannie, Brady Bunch and Gilligan’s Island would come on. (If I was sick for a week with the flu, I would throw in “Dialing for Dollars” for a little variety.) It didn’t matter how sick I was, Gilligan always made me laugh.

It wasn’t until I got older and KBHK 44 would run its summer specials of old shows from the 50’s and 60’s (before TVLand) that I gained an appreciation for his Maynard G. Krebs and just how damn funny he and the Many Loves of Dobie Gillis were.

At least he left of with a legacy of very silly fun. So, a big thank you to Maynard and Gilligan for coming into my family room (and sick room) and making a little kid and a big kid forget the bad things of this world and letting me laugh really hard.

I think I’m gonna go get myself a big slice Banana Cream Pie and toast my favorite Castaway.

Thanks, Little Buddy! I’d tell you to hold onto those coconuts when you see the Skipper, but I have a feeling you won’t… and I'm smiling just thinking about it.

Katrina, Knock It Off, You Bitch!

What the hell just happened? I thought this was going to be another one of those lookout-it’s-coming-oh-it-wasn’t-that-bad kind of storms we’ve been seeing of late. It usually starts with FOX coming up with some exciting graphics and music and ends with CNN pushing Anderson Cooper outside in the rain so he can stand there telling us “It doesn’t look that bad, but it’s really windy…”

I think everyone got complacent. I think everyone in Jesus-Land felt that 1) everyone has cried wolf so many times that it doesn’t matter, and 2) that Jesus would never let anything happen to them (they did vote for Dubya… doesn’t that count?)

Have we learned our lesson? When they say to get out you should GET THE F**K OUT! God will protect you... if you follow the warning. Duh.

However, I think we have been looking at this wrong. We see the Atlantic’s fury being unleashed on an innocent and unsuspecting land mass who has done nothing to provoke these temper tantrums.

The problem isn’t the ocean or the storms; the problem is Florida. I always used to think of Florida as “America’s Wang” innocently dangling off the bible-belt buckle that is Georgia. Let’s face it: it looks like an “average” uncut dick (as geographic formations go). Now, Norway and Sweden are significantly better hung… but then they ARE European.

Also, note that Norway and Sweden look like they are glad to be in Europe, pleased to be well endowed (and double-headed to boot), but don’t go around shouting about it. Florida looks like it just blew spunk on Cuba… no wonder Castro hates us. The alternate theory is that Florida is just getting started and looks like it wants to “invade” (if you know what I mean) Cuba. Either way, Florida’s a dick.

Lately, I’ve come to notice Florida in a new light: it’s not a dick hanging off of Georgia like some 60 year-old nudist that no one has any interest in looking at… no. It’s a finger! A giant, angry finger! It’s America’s giant angry finger giving the bird to the lower mid Atlantic and the Caribbean. America is constantly flipping off the waters and they are pissed off. It’s so simple:

Florida: Hey, Caribbean… fuck you!
Caribbean: Wha…?
Florida: You heard me.
Caribbean: What’s up wit you, mon? We’re just hanging like a big calm ocean… relax.
Florida: I got your big hangin’ right here! Sit on this and spin, pussy!
Caribbean: You don’t want to make me mad. You won’t like me when I’m mad…
Florida: What are you gonna do about it.
Gulf Coast: Nuttin’! He can’t do nuth’n.
Caribbean: Who are you?
Gulf Coast: I’m that Gulf Coast, y’all. I’ma showin’ y’all my big ole pucker hole that you can get down on your knees and kiss.
Caribbean: Do you understand geography? I’m an ocean, mon. I don’t have knees!
Gulf Coast: Oh, so you’re a big ‘stand up ocean’, eh? Too big for us? You ain’t nuth’n. You’re just poor blue trash a-want’n to be like your cousin the Pacific… but always coming up short…
Caribbean: Oh… dat tears it! I’m bringin’ a world a’hurt onto you bitches.
Florida: What, you gonna smoke some weed and hope we get a contact high?
Caribbean: Katrina?! Girl, they done called you a ho!
Hurricane Katrina: Oh no they di’in’t! Jose, bring mama her shoes!

See? It really is Florida’s fault. Now if we cut a thirty mile gap between Florida and the mainland, they’ll just look like a turd floating in the ocean. Let’s face it, that’s a pretty apt description of Florida.

On a serious note: the amazing amount of destruction caused a huge amount of human loss and suffering. I encourage everyone to donate to The American Red Cross Hurricane Disaster Relief Fund. So many people lost everything, let’s help them get back on their feet.

“Never have a hysterectomy!”

The above quote is an actual quote given to me by a female friend. I can safely say that I will follow her advice and NEVER have a hysterectomy. Being a male, it’s impossible (however, I have been known to suffer from PMS, so I should be cautious and never say never… but, I’m feeling a bit smarmy today, so I’ll stand firm on my new policy of never having a hysterectomy). I’m hoping it will catch on with all my friends and we’ll be a big group of non-hysterectomites.

So, Dr. Cutie McCutie* called with all my other test results and everything is excellent. No HIV, no STD’s: nutt’n. Apparently, even my urine “looked good.” Oh, doctor… how you tease!

The pills have taken Pauly the Parasite to task and I’m pretty sure he’s dead. Poor Pauly, I hardly knew ye… but you helped me lose ten pounds, so I can’t fault you too much. Well, you did keep me stuck in a bathroom for about 10 hours a day for three weeks, so you did put a cramp in my social life.**

I received a number of comments, personally and in my blog, stating that no one wants to hear any more scatological references or how my bowels are moving/not moving/reacting or in any way “communicating” to the outside world. I’ve heard you loud and clear: no more shit comments.

However, did you see Oprah yesterday? Apparently, she farts 14 times a day. I’d discuss it more, but the public has spoken…***

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I got a jury summons for October in the mail. October? Now? Don’t they know I will spend the next month devising the best way to get out of my civic duty? It’s a “jury of my peers.” I can tell you this, my peers would not be on trial for something. They would have their parents use their significant influence to get them out of a jury trial—or daddy would do something to make it all go away. If I’m on a jury trial, it had better be for reading too many blogs at work or sleeping too late on the weekends, because otherwise, we are not peers.

Of course, if it’s for something that I want to do, then by all means sign me up! Knock down the slow lady in front of you at Starbucks that can’t figure out how to order a goddamn mocha? Not guilty! Run someone off the freeway for changing lanes without signaling because there are on their cell phone? Not guilty—and the US Medal of Freedom ****.

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I went to Macy’s today to buy a baby gift for a friend and wandered over to Macy’s Gift Wrap. What a lovely area that is. You know how bad it looks during Christmas/Hanukah (Hanukkah? Chanukah? Whichever). Well, it looks just the same now… only with less people to distract you from the prison-like atmosphere.

I rang the bell and this woman walks out who clearly wanted to be somewhere (anywhere) else.

“Uh-huh?” She says to no one in particular, because she’s not staring at me, but at the counter.

“Yes, I’d like to get this gift wrapped,” I smile, pulling out the cutest baby outfit you’ve ever seen.

“Eight twenny-nine.” Seriously: twenny. Apparently, she escaped the back woods of Louisiana and Katrina’s wake and headed straight to Macy’s Gift Wrap at the Stanford Shopping Center.

She looked at the outfit. No reaction. Nothing. Not a “cute.” No “awwwww!” Heck, not even an “ewww.” Nothing. I hated her.

As I wondered to myself, why the fine people of Macy’s would keep her disgruntled ass around, a woman walks up. Happy looks up and says, “What do you want?”

Oooh, girlfriend, there is gonna be a catfight, because the woman that walked up clearly had fifty (or would that be fiddy?) pounds on her and both looked like they’ve been in fights before—and lost as many as they’d won, based on the total teeth count between the two would not be enough for one.

“I’m returning these…” Girlfriend said as she hoisted up a large box containing 500 small boxes (I know this because on the side of the box it clearly read, Contents: 500 small boxes).

“What’r those?”

“Boxes.” Can’t she read the box? Duh.

“What do I want those for?” (Actually, it sounded like “whadoohI wan dose foh?” Seriously. Henry Higgins would shit in his pants if he were there…*****)

Girlfriend started to walk away, she returned them and she wasn’t taking them back, that much even I knew. “This is where I got ‘em… this is where I take ‘em back to.”

And she was gone.

“Angie!” Happy cries out, staring at the box. “Angie!” I’m thinking she’s talking to the box, so I lean over the counter to get a better look (hey, if the box is gonna talk, I want to see it happen).

“What?” Angie said. For a nano-second, I thought it was the box. Angie appeared from out of the back.

“Look what Lanquisha brung back.” Happy said, measuring the ribbon.

“What’r those?”

“Boxes.” Seriously, am I the only one that can read the box?

Thankfully, Angie asked the one question I wanted answered: “Why?”

Happy shrugged as she finished tying up the ribbon, “I dunno. She nicked ‘em, so now she brung ‘em back.”

Angie was prepping to wrap a gift, so she started speaking to the wall, “What’re we s’posed to do with them?”

The wall didn’t answer, but Happy did: “dunno.”

My gift was done. Let me say, that Happy did the most incredible job. It wasn’t complex, but she took amazing care putting it all together and it looked wonderful.

With tax and a little note card it was an even Ten. Now that made Happy smile! No pesky change to figure out! Hurrah! She gave me a big “Thank you and have a nice day!” (well, she smiled a bit and said, “thanks,” but close enough in my book). As I walked away with my beautiful package, my ten spot, sans pesky change jingling in my pocket, I thought to myself, I like her!


*Not his real name… but you knew that already, didn’t you? Of course you did…
**In actuality, I have no social life to speak of, but if I did, Pauly put a cramp in it.
***You are SO wishing I’d say more now, aren’t you?
**** If you have not already guessed, I believe in the death penalty for anyone using a cell phone while driving
*****Thankfully, he wasn’t. (Sorry about the “shit in his pants” remark. I said I wouldn’t mention that anymore… Obviously, I lied).

Getting Better

Well, I finally went to the doctor this week. I was blowing stuff out my ass like you've never seen before. Sorry to be crude, but when one is going to the bathroom every 20 minutes or so, one has a tendancy to lose one's propriety.

Anyhow... back to the ass flow:

Oh... I'll save you the details (email me if you want to know, I love talking about it... it's just that no one wants to hear about it).

So, I finally went to the doctor (or more acurately, found out my doctor is no longer on my plan, so I changed doctors) and Doctor Cutie McCutie, gave me a bunch of tests (none of them pretty) and today he called to say I have a parasite in me. Well, I've always wanted a new friend.

And like all friendships, this one is coming to an end real soon. Tonight, I pick up my prescription and in 3-5 days, Pauly the Parasite should be gone.

And, hopefully, I'll get back to writing again. Seriously, I started 7 different things and then I'd run off to the bathroom and come back with no desire to finish the article.

Seriously, I'll write... if I feel like it. Thanks for all your cards and letters... oh, that's right, I didn't get any. Thanks for your total lack of concern. 'preciate it...

The Story of My Life...

I took the The Director Who Films Your Life Test and found out that if my life were made into a movie, it would be directed by Kevin Smith. You can take the test yourself HERE.

My results:
"Your film will be 50% romantic, 49% comedy, 33% complex plot, and a $ 33 million budget.
Kevin will take your slacker life and turn it into the cult classic it deserves to be --- like Mallrats (just kidding). If you can handle the menacing presence of Jay and Silent Bob all throughout your film, then Kevin is willing to oblige. Basically, he can take the lives of people who don't have much of a life and make it entertaining, so you're in good hands."

Does this mean the Catholic Church will protest my movie? Do I get a cut of the gross profits? Most importantly, who will play me... Brad Pitt or Matt Damon? (I'm sure they want to think of themselves as "the next DeNiro," so let 'em pack on the pounds and see if they can do it).

I'm Sick...

As I was over the toilet, heaving up my guts, my thoughts turned to Seinfeld and how when he hadn't thrown up since January 31, 1985 (or some such date). I couldn't remember the date, but I immediately thought how I have not ralphed since I was in my 20's. Is this some sort of insanity, or was my brain trying to protect me from the horror of the moment? Most likely, it's that I watch too much TV...

On a side note, let's hope it's as least as long until I buick again.

However, I was able to get up from my "bed of pain"* to peruse the internet and see this:

It made me smile... and that was really needed.


*George C. Scott once said that to a friend of mine when he was called in to do more voice work for a Disney animated flick. Her memories of him are not fond... not fond at all.

Five Questions

I’m not sure where this started, but I saw it on the Diaspora South blog (written by the too fabulous Ari Graf von Rothberg. The rules are below.

Question 1: What is your favorite film of all time, and why?
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967). While, it is a great movie (poorly “remade” this year) and the subject stirred a national debate and changed a lot of minds, it’s the interaction of Hepburn/Tracy that is magical. In Tracy’s final speech, I don’t believe he’s talking about “his wife, Christina” but about his relationship with Hepburn. The fact that he died three weeks after filming only cements the film in my heart.

Question 2: When did you first know that you were gay?
I’ve always known I was “different.” I just didn’t think like the other boys. However, it wasn’t until junior high that it all started clicking. The locker room was torture for me, because I knew I couldn’t stare at the other boys—but, Lord, how I wanted to…

Question 3: First name of the first person you ever crushed on, and a random memory about that person.
Mike Hamm, fourth grade. He was just so ‘together.’ He was cute, smart, and extremely funny. We went through all six years of elementary school together, but we went to different junior high schools. In the 8th grade, I was walking on campus when he rode by on his bike—he ‘recognized me,’ but didn’t know who I was. I was crushed.

Question 4: What are 5 things you would never be caught doing and why?
1. Voting republican (because they are small-minded and evil)
2. Using a trough urinal (I need a reason?)
3. Saying, “I can think of a number of wonderful things George Bush did for America…” (because he’s Satan)
4. Walking up to a cute guy in a bar and saying, “can I buy you a drink?” (too shy and too insecure)
5. Robbing a bank (I’m not saying I’m not going to do it… I’m saying I’m not going to get caught doing it… for I am a criminal mastermind. Well, I’d like to be anyway, but that’s for another interview).

Question 5: Shag, Marry, Push Off a Cliff. Please put each of the following people into the aforementioned categories: Chris Evans, Oscar Wilde, Ryan Seacrest.
Shag: Chris Evans. Lordy, how I love that boy’s bod!
Marry: Oscar Wilde: Lot’s of fun conversations—plus, with him as my husband, I’m guaranteed tons of cool party invites.
Push off a Cliff: Ryan Seacrest… I need a reason?

Want to play?

The Official Interview Game Rules:
1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying “interview me.”
2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person’s will be different.
3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

PETA... The Game

Okay, so it's not PETA approved (I'm sure a number of cyber-animals were hurt in the creation of this game). Scotty Mo sent me this. It's pretty easy, but can quickly become an obsession if you don't have a life... not that I would know anything about that.

To play, click HERE and save a monkey!

As Time Goes By…

So much has changed in the last 30-some years… I’m much older, maybe a little wiser, and I most certainly have better taste in clothes (check out the collar on that shirt, it looks like I'm about to take flight!).

However, Mrs. Clarke, my third grade teacher certainly had me figured out. Not much has changed in that respect… not much at all.

(click on the pic to get a better view of her comments.)

Ho! Superquiz!

I found a cool poll link on the web and decided to have a weekly poll. I came up with this week's quiz in a flash, so it's not very original--however, it is a subject near and dear to my heart...

Possible upcoming quiz ideas: "Balls!" (shaved or un-shaved), "Unkindest Cut" (circumcised or not)... man, I have got to get my mind out of the gutter...

Anyway, enjoy the quiz (it's off to the right...)

Fun With War
I don't know who wrote this... I only know it's genius: World War II as if online game.

"Anyone Wanna Buy a Monkey?"

Have you ever wanted to make a sock puppet? Me neither, but this person did... only she wanted one that was really big! Meet Buttons, the giant sock puppet.

Creationism vs. Evolution

In a commentary on NPR today, the speaker stated that currently, everyone's opinion matters equally, regardless of your knowledge on a topic. So, scientists, who study a subject, are no more of an authority than someone who, without anything other than their beliefs, deems the scientists are wrong.

Take Evolution vs. Creationism. Now there is proof that man evolved. Creationism is based on faith. Now, I am one of the faithful, but I'm not an idiot. Do I believe that God created the heavens and earth in 7 days? Sure, why not? But 7 days to you and me is nothing to God. Billions of years pass and maybe-maybe-that's a day to God.

I find it odd that people take certain phrases from the bible literally, and will allow others to be interpreted: "God didn't mean to literally stone a woman for wearing a red dress... the dress signifies..." yada, yada, yada. However, mention "man should not lay with another man" and it's suddenly Crystal clear.

[If you want a good example of "wacko" laws in the bible, check out Leviticus... it's amazing how many "rules" are stated there which we don't follow... (except for the gay stuff). However, when God decided to send down 10 commandments, those can be left up to interpretation? Where are these people when preachers are adulterous? I don't think it could be any clearer than the 10 Commandments--the actual commandments, mind you, not the movie, which was too long for my tastes. I did, however, enjoy The Prince of Egypt, because they sang a lot.]

God gave us brains. We should use them and not turn away from them with the idea we are being "faithful." Personally, I think evolution just might win out in the end... and if this comic is true, it will happen sooner than you think.

You know, I'm just rambling right now... I think I'll go look at the giant sock puppet for a while...

The Dry Spell is (kind of, like) Over…

Okay, so I got laid again this weekend… sort of.

The pattern seems to be, they get off and I’m left just sort of… well, waiting.

Is it rude to say, “Hello, see Mr. Angry poking at your side? He needs some assistance!” Instead, I usually say, “Wow, that was great,” while I’m actually thinking, “Wow, that was just short of okay…”

I will say that the caliber of men I’ve been with lately are surprisingly hot (for me—I usually don’t get a choice; I get what I can get. I don't think I get guys looking for a “type” as much as they are looking for a fetish...) However, to quote Nokomus: “It’s all good.” I really don’t care what he looks like as long as it gets me laid. So, I guess I can’t complain too much. Mind you, that’s not going to stop me from complaining—because, gawd knows, I love to complain—but I really don’t have too much room to grumble. What was I talking about, again?

Let’s recap: I’m getting sex, but I’m not getting off.

Odd, that when I was getting off all the time, I was alone. Now that I’ve actually got an actual true-live-non-inflatable-partner, I’m left even more frustrated.

I think I’ll just stick with my vast collection of porn and my jar of Stroke 29*, at least I can nap afterwards…

So... was that too much information? Probably. I don't really care--I'm frustrated people. FRUSTRATED! Would it kill any of you to buy me a male prostitute for my birthday? (Okay, that would be really expensive and if you got the wrong guy, he could kill me... so strike that terrible idea). How about you hook me up with someone... anyone! I'm not picky: "He's a man; he's alive; what's not to like?" I can cook... and I can cook! (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) I'm funny (sometimes), I have a decent job (with health/dental/retirement and partner benefits!). I'm not asking for much... as much as I love Chris Evans and What's-his-name, I'm not looking for that (well, I am, I'm just not expecting it). So find me someone, because it's pretty obvious I can't do it myself... and you'll never have to read posts about me and masturbation again!**

*Stroke 29 is the best stuff... ever! I can't say enough wonderful things about it... unlike any of the guys I've slept with recently.

**That's a lie, you will... you so will, but I'll warn you--or something--first...

All You Need Is Love


Click here for a video that is probably the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time...

I know Reality TV Celebrities!


Is that an exaggeration? Sure, but it got your attention, didn’t it?

My friends Becky & Joe Robbins (aka “Cute & Cuter”) recently had their backyard redone for an episode of HGTV’s Landscape Smart. Actually, I think it was a year ago that it was done, but it’s just getting around to airing.

Becky is adorable and her husband Joe is uber-cute and together they are cute as can be. Did I mention they were cute? Well, they are, damnit!

You can see for yourself on HGTV Monday, August 1st at 8:30 pm. Becky & Joe’s backyard is turned into a “rustic retreat.” I’ve seen the pictures, it’s quite nice. If you want a sneak peek click here…

Oh, wait, maybe it’s here… no, that’s not it…

Ah! This is it, click HERE! Yep, that did the trick.

Why I LOVE The Internet

I don't know who he is or where he is from--I stumbled across him as I was trolling... er, perusing the internet)--I only know that I love him (almost as much as Chris Evans...)

Not only does he have a beautiful face... look at that body! Holy moly!

Talk about your Everlasting Gob-Stoppers! I could lick that boy from sunrise to sunset...

Why I Love Reality Television (Big Brother 6)

"Leadership? He's so stupid he can't even pronunciate it properly."
--Michael, arrogant idiot

Later on the show, they almost came to blows... ALL of them! It was like a big gang fight, except everyone in the gang was a drama queen.

More Notable Quotables

Since my last Notable Quotables was met with complete and utter apathy, I thought I would do it again. Here are a few more... ah, good times... good times...

For some, I guess you had to be there—but they made me laugh (so kiss my ass).

“It looked like Cher peed all over the floor.”
—Mark M., describing the beautiful white tile flooring at The Left Bank Menlo Park

“She is more liberal than ‘liberalism’”
—My mother, describing Senator Barbara Boxer’s political views (if you couldn't guess, mom's a big ole Republican't).

“I was sitting on a barstool, when I realized it was 1:00am and that I needed to find my clothes and leave the bar."
—Shawn A., phoning his boyfriend back in the US about his night out in Amsterdam.

“The reason I got a dog is because chickens don’t love you.”
—Allison, answering my question, “Why do you have so many dogs?”

“I thought he was calling him ‘Ernest.’”
—Scotty Mo on Tom Hanks final words, “Earn this” from Saving Private Ryan. (Frankly, I hadn’t a clue what he was saying…)

“So, why didn’t he [Mini-me] speak? Was his voice too small?”
—Kimba M., inquiring why the character Mini-me did not speak in Austin Powers 2.

"I think this meat is bad. It doesn't mean I'm going to stop eating it; I just think it's gone bad."
—Lesli C. at Taco Bell

“Where were we when they were handing out all these pacts with the devil? In line at Taco Bell?”
—Jill P., on yet another friend’s success (hopefully, the meat wasn’t bad…)

“He’s big as an earthquake, with the voice of a girl.”
—Overheard it in an elevator in San Francisco

“It was a ‘jeans’ fur... a fun fur... for casual wear.”
—My mom, desperately trying to convince me she wasn’t too overdressed by wearing a fur coat to go to the movies.

Notable Quotables

So, I was going through the past issues of the printed version of Slap & Tickle and found these gems. These were some of my favorites. They still make me laugh. I’m thinking if I ever do the “café press” thing and make T-shirts, these are going to be on them… especially the first one!


“Those Jews are about to ride up my ass!”
—Jill P. noting the ‘Jews for Jesus’ van moving up quickly behind her.

“I was definitely the fattest person in France.”
—Scotty M., describing the very thin French

“4:30am is when you are supposed to be getting home from partying, not getting up in the morning.”
—Debbie W. (my former boss) lamenting on how her parents get up too early in the morning.

“Now if they could just make it chocolate flavored we’d all be set.”
—Cav commenting on an article “Hormones in Semen Shown to Make Women Feel Good

“At this point, if my life were to be depicted in a movie, I would have been played by Paul Giamatti.”
—Maia Y., former PhD student and now faculty at another university, describing her “miserable life.”

“She’s a Chinese Asian…”
—Scotty M., describing Margaret Cho.

“You know what my favorite part of erosion is?”
—Che (yes, his name is Che) discussing… well, discussing his favorite part of erosion. My response: “I don’t have a favorite part of erosion, but please tell me what yours is.” To my immediate regret, he told.

“I just changed my underwear… and now I’m exhausted.”
—Pam, celebrating the fun of camping and changing clothes in a tiny tent.

If I had a cool logo to put on the shirt, I'd be printing T-shirts right and left...

Mmmmm… Koolaid!

Apparently, I’m in a mood to post today…

Moviegeek has a link (The Best TomKat Piece Yet) to Slate and a piece by Rebecca Traister on the increasingly scripted Katie Holmes. It’s all about the cover story in W and it’s so deliciously creepy about the Tom-Katie-Scientology-thing, and how she’s become a pseudo Stepford Wife.

The whole situation is very odd, but the best line ever is in this article: “It's profoundly sad that Holmes seems not just to have drunk the Kool-Aid, but to be wearing the pitcher it was stirred in over her head.”

There is an ad that you have to go through to read it, but it’s so worth it.

QUOTE OF THE MONTH:

A favorite of mine in the printed version of Slap & Tickle was the Quote of the Month. Usually, it was some stupid thing I overheard or a soon-to-be-former friend would have the unfortunate timing to say in front of me. I found the quote below in what was the last--and unpublished--version of S&T. Enjoy it... and weep for the future...

“I got fired because I was late all the time. Dude, you know I’ve never been good with punctuation.”

--Overheard from a kid discussing his many employment terminations to his friends.

WRITE DAMNIT!
I got this spam the other day from a group called Pen-2-Paper. The idea of this site is to… well, let’s let them sell you on their “service”:

“Our international team will provide clear, understandable and precise communication, using only handwriting skills. The team will provide a discreet and confidential handwriting service with the utmost professionalism and care. Our aim is to bring back the beauty and unused power of handwriting asone of the best and most powerful ways of communicating a person's desires, expectations, feelings, and needs.”

Yes, you lazy sacks of crap, these guys will actually handwrite a letter for you. However, you have to write the letter—then email it to them. WTF? You pay them to handwrite a letter? Wasn’t it just a few years ago that you could hire someone to type a letter from something you hand wrote? Have we forgotten the great art of writing by hand? Yes, we are so advanced, we no longer can write by hand…

What does that say about us as a society when we can’t sit down and write a letter? It’s the damn video games—that’s what it is. I have no evidence to support this, in fact, all reason points away from it, but if FOX can get away with it, then who am I to go against the machine?

After much complaining (who me?) I have given this service some serious consideration. There are so many possibilities of notes I could write, all of them seem to be only to freak out Pen-2-Paper’s “scribes.” My only fear is that they would report me to the authorities—and I’m on too many government lists as it is.

Here are my favorite ideas:
Confession to the Lindbergh baby kidnapping
“I borrowed your toothbrush… to clean the mildew out of my shower”
‘To Do’ List, including items like “buy heroin” and “kill a kitten”
“Hey, I’ve got the clap! (and you do too)”
“I’m stalking you…”
“I’ve embezzled your life savings—I’d tell you in person, but I’m in the Cayman Islands”
“I know I falsely accused you of rape, but it would be too embarrassing for me to tell the authorities the truth, and prison seems to agree with you…”
“Fuck you, Dubya”

(The last one might get me a visit from the Secret Service, but—as Paris Hilton would say, “they’re hot”.)

So, how much does this wonderful service cost? Ten hard-earned bucks. AND that includes postage! Wow! They write a letter for you and throw in a whole .37 cents! Such generosity is not heard of in these days of typewritten work.

Now if only I could get them to write my daily blog and not bother me with details like subject matter and actual sentence structure, I’d be set…

London Calling

I got an email from someone (no anonymous postings, but, apparently, an idiot can send me an email) asking me how could I be so callous and ignore the tragic circumstances in London last week.

Let me make this clear people: I write meaningless ramblings that make little sense, with poor grammar and even pooerer(er) spelling. For me to say something in this time of sorrow would only be embarrassing.

That said, my heart goes out to Londoners. We stand with you, we mourn with you and we’ll fight with you.

Now can I talk about meaningless stuff again?

Fantastic Four? Try Fantastic One!

I saw Fantastic Four this weekend... not so fantastic. I enjoyed the movie, but not because of the thinly veiled plot, the pedestrian writing, or the "acting." No, I enjoyed it strictly for one piece of eye candy: Chris Evans. My gawd... what an amazing hottie.


I loved him in Not Another Teen movie... why? Because he wore nothing but whipped cream in a scene.


He was brilliant in Cellular... why? Because he spent the first 5 minutes of the film (actually, 3 minutes and 26 seconds) without a shirt.



He's been in 9 other films, but I haven't seen them (or heard of them), probably because he kept his shirt on the whole time.

And now a brief word to lovely Mr. Evans:
Chris, Chris, Chris... you need to keep that shirt OFF. Shirt OFF = good. Shirt on = wha...?

Thus endeth the lessson.

Insanity Television

While it is often reported as of late that the Reality TV craze is dying off, I still believe that there is still some life left in this craze. I should also note that I firmly believe that nothing on TV is ever real, and these reality shows have gone so far off the charts, that they are simply insane. I’m talking bat-shit insane, people. Anna Nicole Smith insane. That’s really, really crazy.

Here are some of the current reality shows that I’ve stumbled across and my assessment of their watchability:

Stripsearch
Premise: Looking for seven hot guys to be in a strip show in Vegas.
Reasons to watch: There’s a reason I started with Stripsearch, it’s the hot bods! Man these guys have hot bods… Even the “fat guy” is pretty damn cute.
Real Reason to watch: To see these guys act like a bunch of teenage girls, gossiping about each other, stabbing each other in the back, and—of course—crying like little girls when they get called names (like “fat”) or are evicted.
Watchability: Only in small doses. Bravo has highlights during every other show, so you can watch one episode, miss four and as long as you see the promos, you’re caught up.

The Ultimate Fighter
Premise: A group of guys get a shot to become the next UFC champion
Reasons to watch: Great fighting and drama between the fighters.
Real reason to watch: The guys are amazingly hot and in shape—unlike Stripsearch, they are athletes, not gym-bods. But the real reason to watch is the drama. Oh, the drama.
Watchability: Absolutely! The fights are so intense. Just meat-grinding bloodfests. However, they are all slightly messed up, so if someone calls them a name, they get emotional. Look for reruns and another season on SpikeTV.

Big Brother 6
Premise: Same as the last five: stick a bunch of people in a house for three months with no outside contact and watch them feed on each other.
Reasons to watch: To see how people really react to one another
Real reason to watch: To see if they sleep together.
Watchability: It started last night, but already I’m somewhat hooked—well, I was yelling at my television, does that count? Sadly, this season does not have enough cute guys, but the bitch-content among the girls is quite high…

Being Bobby Brown
Premise: Watch Bobby Brown’s daily life
Reasons to watch: To see Whitney
Real reason to watch: To watch Bobby and Whitney self-destruct. Good Lord, these people are NUTS! Just freakin’ bonkers. These two are a train wreck on its way to happen.
Watchability: Mostly unwatchable. Yet, if you happen upon it, you can’t look away.

Chaotic
Premise: Britany Spears and Kevin Whatshisname show us badly shot videos of their life together.
Reasons to watch: None that I can think of…
Real reason to watch: Seriously, there’s no reason to watch this crap.
Watchability: Completely unwatchable. It’s in reruns on Spike or F/X or some such channel… just awful. Apparently, they are too stupid to figure out that one doesn’t need to have the camera set to zoom at all times… oh, and there is such a thing as “auto focus.” I’d suggest they read the owner’s manual, but that would require these two idiots learn to read.

Blow Out
Premise: Watch snooty and straight (?!) hair dresser Jonathan Bitchandwhinealot run around LA acting like hair styling is important.
Reasons to watch: Jonathan trying to prove he’s not gay (he so clearly is)
Real reason to watch: The bitching amongst the staff is what makes this show worth watching. They are a bunch of shit disturbers and that’s just plain fun to watch.
Watchability: Jonathan is an asshole of the highest order. Funniest thing was when he went to see his “girlfriend.” He kept calling her “my girl” and he brought her flowers. That was the first and last time we’ve seen her on the show. Don’t most people want to spend time around their S.O.? If you can TiVo it, then do that—and only watch the staff, avoiding Jonathan and his massive ego as much as possible.

The Biggest Loser
Premise: Watch fat people get into shape.
Reasons to watch: You can laugh at fat people as they sweat and avoid donuts.
Real reason to watch: See how fat people can be just as mean and cruel as the beautiful people on shows like Big Brother and Real World.
Watchability: If there’s nothing else on, why not? Of course, if I want to see a fat person cry I just have to look in the mirror. Maybe I’ll shoot for getting on the show next year…

Nanny 911/Supernanny
Premise: A family with monster children brings in a British Nanny who solves all their problems in an hour.
Reasons to watch: To learn valuable skills in how to handle unruly little monsters.
Real reason to watch: To watch indulgent parenting at its worst. You’ll feel much better about yourself if you are a parent, and/or about your parent’s parenting skills.
Watchability: Oh, yes. What amazes me about these families is that the children are still alive and unbeaten. My answer to most of these kids is to spank them hard. They’d fall into line real quick. Seriously, I worry about the next generation, these parents suck so bad…

Surreal Life
Premise: D-List celebrities are thrown in a house together in a desperate attempt to revitalize their careers.
Reasons to watch: To watch these has-beens take one last grab at celebrity.
Real reasons to watch: To watch these has-beens drive around naked on a scooter, crash into the corner and piss in the hallway.
Watchability: YESS!!! You see the track, both trains and full on view of the trains colliding. Just brilliant.

Real World
Premise: You MUST know this by now: what happens to seven strangers put in a house together, when they stop being nice and start being themselves (i.e. assholes).
Reasons to watch: the “drama” of seven beautiful people living rent free in a dream house for twentysomethings.
Real reasons to watch: To watch them get naked and throw out every last scruple they arrive with.
Watchability: Surprisingly, it’s still quite watchable. I have a previous post on this show (below).
SurvivorPremise: If you don’t know, you’re living under a rock. Let’s just say that the last Survivor (with the winner hottie-fireman Tom) picked up the wreckage from the previous season. The problem with this show is that it can go horrible wrong (read: boring) very fast. Last season didn’t suffer this problem, but the season before was unwatchable. It’s hit and miss with this show, so be careful out there, folks.

Survivor
Premise: If you don’t know, you’re living under a rock. Let’s just say that the last Survivor (with the winner hottie-fireman Tom) picked up the wreckage from the previous season. The problem with this show is that it can go horrible wrong (read: boring) very fast. Last season didn’t suffer this problem, but the season before was unwatchable. It’s hit and miss with this show, so be careful out there, folks.

Amazing Race
Premise: A race around the world
Reasons to watch: Usually cute “nice” couples vs. “nasty” couples.
Real reason to watch: Comeuppance—with the brilliant editing, you see the nasty, nasty couples (a la Ugly American) pull nasty tricks on other couples, only to have it bite them in the ass. Watchability: TiVo this sucker. It’s damn fun to watch. Plus, the race always seems to come down to the last second—again, through brilliant editing. The season finale had my sister and I screaming at the TV (not too unusual, but we got really loud).

I’m sure there are more out there—feel free to let me know and I’ll add them to my TiVo ‘to do list.’

Great Article

This is article is great--read it all... the payoff at the very end (under "Symptoms") makes it all worthwhile.

Many thanks to Moviegeek for finding this and suggesting it on his brilliant blog.

Site of the Day

I've not done one of these before and probably won't again, but this just cracks me up:

http://www.tomcruiseisnuts.com/home.php

I guess it goes with the picture:

I stole... er, borrowed this information from Pink is the New Blog.

I’m In Love… With A GIRL!



Yes, I’m in love with a girl and I don’t care who knows it! I found the woman for me and her name is Giada!

On Tuesday, I went to a book signing and demonstration by Giada de Laurentiis, star of Food Network’s “Everyday Italian” and author of several cookbooks. She has perfect teeth in a smile that lights up a room, a killer bod, big boobs… and she can COOK!

There was only one woman that I ever thought I could go straight for: Diane Lane. (…sigh…) I will now add the lovely Giada to that infinitesimal list. [Side note: Jennifer “Flashdance” Beals was on it from 1983 to approximately 1985, but I think I was more interested in her costar Michael Nouri—which, upon looking back, was a poor decision on both.]

Giada is exactly as she appears on her show: adorable. She was enthusiastic about her recipes and encouraged the crowd to shout out questions as she demonstrated making a white bean dip with pita crisps and a dessert of grilled pineapples with a Nutella sauce. People were shouting out all sorts of stupid questions, and she answered them as if they were well thought out… such patience.

Before her scheduled talk and books signing, Giada was walking around Santana Row with her husband and people were walking up to her, asking her to pose for photographs and sign their books—and she did it.

Graciously.

People wandering in were so excited to already have their book signed. They kept going on and on about how beautiful she is (and every description ended with “big boobs.”):
Lady next to us: “She’s adorable! So sweet… big boobs.”
Lady behind us: “I just walked up and asked, and she signed my book! Lovely hands, great teeth, and big boobs.”
Lady two rows up: “I asked for a picture and her husband took it! My God, I wish I could have her figure… at least her big boobs.”

When she arrived, the crowd of 800 stood up and cheered wildly. It was like a rock star had arrived. The poor people at the restaurant next door looked at us like we were crazy. We were—but we were crazy for Giada, so fuck off!

Apparently, she is quite different than the Rachel Ray experience they had earlier. I’m sworn to secrecy… Okay, twist my arm, I’ll tell: Apparently, Rachel was a bit of a prima donna and when she was moaning about having to sign 200 books, the manager of a certain store smiled at her and said, “Oh, I’m sure you can do it… Julia Child was here and signed over a 1000 books in the same amount of time… and she was 85!”

We waited over 2 hours for her to sign our books—the line was about 400 or so, but she was taking pictures with everyone and chatting… who does that? Who can keep a smile on their face after 2 hours of signing books?

When I got up to get my book signed, an employee asked if I needed a picture with her, when I said, “no” you’d have thought I’d just farted in the store (I had, but not right there). He couldn’t believe it. I’m not a star-fucker. I don’t get ga-ga over celebrities; I think they are just like everyone else and should not be treated as gods…

If you want you book signed to your name by Giada, they put a post-it note in your book so she knows the correct spelling. As I walked up to her, I handed her the book and she said, “Hi, Chris!” as if she’s my bud; my pal. I looked into her eyes, ready to reply... my response: “Uh… er… hi?”

I could not think of a single coherent thing to say. I was dumbstruck by her beauty and felt I had no place being in the room…. “I’m not worthy! I’m not worthy!” flooded my mind. I couldn’t look in her face—I was like a deer caught in the headlights—so I looked down… into her “headlights!” Then I looked over… into her husband’s adorable—but glaring—eyes. I began to study the floor intensely.

As she slid the signed book over to me, she smiled her big perfect-teeth smile and said, “Enjoy!” I looked up, stood there for a second, mumbled “thanks” and scampered away, clutching my treasure.

Four steps later, my mind began to clear and I began to think of responses I could have said!

Cute things.

Clever things.

Things that would have made her remember me in a fun way… not as some sweaty, creepy guy stammering responses, and clutching her book as he scampered away. Who scampers, by the way? Who?!

Me... Damnit!

Now I’m obsessing over her… Why won’t she love me? Is it her very attractive and successful husband? Is it the fact that I’m gay? Maybe it’s because I’m not Italian? Maybe she’s so incredibly out of my league that if I were straight and Italian, she’d still want nothing to do with me? I’ve been “straight” for all of four minutes and I’m already hating it… I guess that’s what love does to you. I'll put up with it, I guess. But only for you, Giada. Only for you...

Meet Groovy Frank

This is Groovy Frank...

(My uncle in 1930-something or other)

I got a note from Blogger saying we can add photos easily to the site... oh, boy am I going to have fun with this...

Fun With Email

I received the following email yesterday:

Hello,

I am Ms. Rose Morgan, Manager of Mount Royal Inn Hotel, Ottawa, Ontario Canada.

We are on the second phase of recruiting workers. We are currently looking for 5 to 10 energistic [sic] young individuals to join our working team under ther [sic] following positions:

1 cooker with not less than 2 years cooking experience
2 scretary [sic]and assistant
3 attendant
4 car washer
5 cleaner
6 security men
7 Men/woman who can host people on stage
8 Computer operator
9 Warehouse supervisor
10 Accounts clerk

Our salary is very attractive as we pay what is obtainable in every 5 star hotels in Canada and other developed countries. If you are interested to work for us, send your application to the hotel through this email address:hotel_canada_2004@fastermail.com.

We shall help you to process your document and pay for your flight ticket with your one-month visa as a tourist to enter here in Canada and work with us.

N/B: all expenses incurred [sic] to bring you to Canada must be dully deducted from your monthly salary while working for us here.

Bye from Ms. Rose Morgan.

I’m not sure what they are trying for, but do they actually expect someone to reply? The misspellings aside, I’m particularly interested in how they are looking for “5 to 10” people to fill 10 positions. Are they hoping people will double up? Is that why they are looking for “energistic” people?

The vagueness of the positions also boggles the mind: “Men/woman who can host people on stage?” WTF? They only need one cleaner, but they need a group of security men? This is Canada, I thought it was supposed to be safe—guess not.

I decided I needed to reply to her message. I mean, one so clearly odd needs to have a reply. Naturally, I couldn’t just answer them, I decided I should be a “typical ignorant American.”

Enjoy!

Dear Ms. Morgan,

Thank you for your letter! Wow! I could really use a job or two and your letter really fits my bill. I’ve always wanted to travel to Europe—and Canada is at the top of my list! I should also note that my friends also refer to me as extremely “energistic,” so I know I would be right for many of the jobs you describe.

However, before I send you my resume, I have a few questions:

First, you say you have “5 to 10 positions.” I’m not sure what that means, because you are offering 10 positions. Should we be expected to ‘double up’ on jobs? I think I could do that if the pay were comproble.

I do have some questions on several positions stated. If you could please clarify on a few questions I’ve noted below, I would be greatly appriciating.

1. cooker: would that be a cook, or something to cook with? I have several years experience cooking and I have a crock pot that is none worse for the wear—should I bring that along?
2. Scretary: I always confuse the European way of spelling (how does one put a “U” in “color,” I’ve always wondered). I should note that I have several years experience as a spell checker—actually, I have it on my computer, but it’s pretty much the same thing, no?
3. Attendant: Is that a car attendant, or are they just attending things in general? I’ve ben a good attendant in all sorts of jobs. Many times my bosses have stated to “just sit there and do nothing” and it’s worked great!
4. Car Washer: That I got. I didn’t know you guys had cars up there in Canada.
5. Cleaner: What would I be cleaning? I guess not cars, because you covered that already. Would it be rooms? In America, we call them “maids.” Maybe you didn’t want to be sexyist and label it as a “women’s job.”
6. Security men: Hey… that’s being sexyist! I’m real strong (“Cuz, I eats my spinach!” as Popeye would say—hey, do you have Popeye in Canada?)
7. Men/woman who can host people on stage: I got NO idea what that job is… but it sounds like fun! I would love to be on a stage! Why only one woman?
8. Computer operator: I’ve got a computer! AND I can operate it, too!
9. Warehouse supervisor: I used to work in a warehouse years ago, but after the fall, I don’t remember too much about it. But I’m sure it’s as easy as falling off a log—which, ironically, is what I fell from.
10. Accounts clerk: Sadly I don’t know much about that, but I am a quickly learning person, so I might be able to do that.

Please get back to me as soon as possible, because I’m afraid of flying, so I’ll have to take a boat over to Canada, and that might take a couple of days.

However, if you don’t have time and need to choose someone right now, I’d like to apply for “Men/woman who can host people on stage.” First, it sounds like fun! Second, it appears that there would be a bunch of people doing it together, and C) did I mention it sounds like fun?!

Please reply real soon, as I’ve applied to be a greeter at Wal-Mart and I don’t want to leave them without anyone to greet people if I suddenly get a job over there in Canada!

Best,

Christepher


Oddly enough, I have not heard back from Rose…

Please note, if you’re looking for spelling errors: ben, comproble, appreciating, sexyist, women’s job, and Christepher are intentionally wrong/improperly used, so back off. Please assume any other spelling or grammatical error is purely intentionalistic…