Archive for January, 2008



14
Jan

Like NWA said, “Fuck the police!”

So I’m driving to work this morning, and as I am passing a car to my left, I notice it’s one of Gwinnett County’s finest. He ducks in behind me and we both head for the turn lane to head toward the highway.

As soon as we turn left, he hits the lights. I look around and, realizing that he’s not passing me and that it’s me he’s eyeballing, I gesture forward to the gas station that is up ahead and where I plan to pull over.

I’m sitting there thinking “What the fuck did I do? Drive too slow? Oh shit. He must have seen my iPod headphones. Is that even illegal?”

While this is going thru my head and whilst I am carefully removing my earbuds and pausing “The Sports Guy’s podcast,” the qbeam hits me in the eye. I am now rolling down the driver’s side window and hanging my left hand out the window. I don’t take chances. Both hands out the window and I don’t reach for anything until the cop is there watching.

So this guy is doing the stand back and to the left and says “I need to see your driver’s license,” to which I reply “It’s on the passenger floorboard in my bag. I am going to reach for the bag now.”

(I’m not kidding, by the way. I do not fuck with the po-po. Save the editorial shit for court).

He takes my license and says “You know you’re tag is expired…right?”

(internal sigh followed by some expletives as the wife and I had discussed this a few weeks ago).

“Yes,” I reply.  “I’m aware.”

Then he says “You know they expire on your birthday, and yours expired in July.  That red tag on your plate is like a beacon to pull you over.”

(Yes, asshole.  I know when my birthday is).  “Yes sir.  My wife and I talked about it.  I thought she’d paid them, but that’s no excuse.  I will take care of it today.”

So off he goes to his car to write me a ticket, which I deserve.  I know it.  Let’s move along.

He comes back, gets me to sign and explains the “Here’s your court date.  The fine’s $125 bucks.  Wait five days and call this number to pay, or show up at the courthouse on this date.”

Then he says “You know that you can be ticketed any time you are driving this vehicle on a public road with an expired tag, right?”

“Even though you already gave me this ticket?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.  “You could be pulled over a mile from here and ticketed again.”

“You’re not gonna do THAT, are you?” I asked.

Silence.

(Fuck you fucker).  Okay then.  I’ll pay it today.  Sorry officer.

Then he waits.  I buckle up again, pull around the Chevron, and there he waits again.  I pull out, and he gets on the road behind me, and then follows me on to the highway.

I’m looking in the mirror thinking “I swear to God, if you pull me over again on the way to work for this, I’m going to jail because I will assault you with smartassery and my superior wit and intellect.”

He passed me about three miles later.  I resisted the urge to indicate that I thought he was number one.

14
Jan

Your thoughts would be appreciated

My stepfather, who is seventy, is having quintuple bypass surgery today.

Three years ago, that would have had me saying “Oh…Bill’s having a bypass.”

Now, I know the deal.  Sort of.  He’s having his sternum cracked.  I didn’t.  He’s seventy.  I was half that age.  Of course, I would contend that me may well be in better shape than I was when I had mine.

I’m sure he’ll be fine.  But I still worry.

Good luck Bill.  I’ll be thinking about you (and Mom and GBD) today.

11
Jan

The 8,374th reason that GBD and I are going to hell

Last night saw the much-anticipated premier of the new VH1 reality show “Celebrity Rehab” hosted and run by Dr. Drew Pinsky of MTV’s “Lovelines” fame.

Lovelines was a sort of bastard stepchild of Dr. Ruth’s old show, but less uncomfortable for the audience and callers because they were getting advice from Dr. Drew and terminal deviant Adam Corolla and not from some post-menopausal Nazi elf.

Here’s VH1’s web summary of the show:

“Celebrity Rehab” is the first television series to chronicle the dramatic, unscripted real life experiences of a group of actual celebrities as they make the life-changing decision to enter themselves into a drug, alcohol and addiction treatment program with the sincere desire to achieve true rehabilitation and recovery.

This compelling true account of addiction, healing, and redemption is being supervised with great compassion and insight by renowned addiction and recovery expert Dr. Drew Pinsky, Medical Director of the Department of Chemical Dependency Services at Southern California’s Las Encinas Hospital, and host of the long-running radio and television advice series LOVELINE”.

This inspirational journey begins inside one of Southern California’s private addiction and recovery treatment facilities, the Pasadena Recovery Center, where a group of well-known celebrities make the brave decision to commit themselves to a legitimate protocol of supervised medical treatment over a period of several weeks At every step in this challenging process, viewers at home will witness the real true life struggles of these celebrity patients, who ultimately appear in their sincerest human form as regular people in need of a helping hand and earnestly striving for recovery, health and future happiness.

And here is, in my mind, what the premise of the show was to be:

Various fucked up celebrities (or d-list has-beens) show up and submit themselves to Dr. Drew’s rehab program. Or further their careers. Or both.

I had seen Pinsky on Conan the other night, and Conan described it as disturbing but compelling viewing. Sounds good. Count us in.

So the wife and I settle in and watch the beginning, and then they began the cavalcade of idiocy.

(Each person’s entry into the facility included video of their arrival, some pre-shot interview stuff about why they wanted to get treatment, as well as some video of them either getting, being, or talking about getting or being high).

First up, Celebrity Fit Club lunatic and failure Jeff Conway, who still has the balls to list Grease when discussing his career. Come on dude. That movie came out in the mid 70’s. I’d rather you tell me about the different places you’ve vomited while high than see you talking about yourself as Kenicki.

Jeff has been fucked up forever. He says it started when, during the filming of the “Greased Lightning” scene, he was dropped and injured his back. Funny. I don’t remember even Doctors in the 70’s prescribing booze and cocaine for lumbar therapy.

Jeff is so fucked up when he shows up at the facility that they have to put him in a wheel chair. And order his enabling/addicted/enmeshed girlfriend not to visit.

Next up we have Chyna (of WWF and “One Night In Chyna” fame where I saw the first ever actual penis on a “woman”).

While fairly or apparently straight upon arrival, in her interview with Dr. Drew she says she’s not an alcoholic or an addict.

So why did you sign up for this again?

Jesus Christ. “This is just going to be Surreal Life – The rehab days” for her.

Then came Mary Carey. Blah. Porn star. Ran for governor of California on a platform promising a blowjob and happy ending in every pot I assume. Like every other person in the adult film business (and by that I mean “The Industry), Mary uses all kinds of drugs and drinks WAY too much.

She explains that her mother jumped off of a 4 story building a year or so ago, and she told God that if he let her mother live, she’d quit porn, stop drinking, and be good.

So she shows up at rehab totally hammered. She walks in, chooses to share a room with Chyna (presumably because Chyna is sure to have the biggest cock of anyone in rehab), then proceeds to unload her library of dildos, vibrators, strap-ons, etc. When told she could not have these items, she said “So I can’t masturbate while I’m here?”

She was told that was her personal business, but she could not use the devices she’d brought from home. Apparently rehab is all right with her shoving a bedpost up her ass.

One highlight came from Chyna who, when she heard Mary couldn’t have her strap on said, “Yes, please take away her strap on.” This would be the first of several unexpectedly amusing lines from Chyna.

Then came Seth “Shifty” Binzer, lead singer of the band Crazytown who had one hit that was one of the most annoying songs ever: “Butterfly.” Go find it on iTunes and play a sample. If I never hear a bar of that song again, it will be too soon.

Shifty is pretty honest, but also a complete junkie. Cocaine is his demon, although he brings a few Red Stripes with him when checking into rehab.

(I swear it’s like not one of these people must realize that they’re going to rehab. I think they all believed they were checking into a hotel).

So Seth is walking around and is spotted by Mary Carey. This is right after Mary walks outside and says, “God, this place is boring.” I already want to hit her in the face with a pair of bolt cutters.

The kind of hot female co-rehabilitator (Dr. Drew’s assistant or co-worker or something) walks outside to ask shifty to come in and unpack his stuff and get organized, and before they can get him back to his room, Mary Carey says “Do you wanna fuck?” and then pulls her pants down to show Chyna her ass.

I’m impressed. It really looks like Mary is taking her oath to God seriously after he saved her mother’s life and all. I expect to see her doing double penetration and blowing a horst at group sessions any day now.

Next up we have the 26 year old former “star” of “Family Matters” a.k.a. The Steve Erkl Show, Ms. Jaimee Foxworth.

She smokes pot. A lot. And I don’t mean a lot by Bob Marley’s standards. She smokes like the proverbial freight train. And not pin joints either. She’s a blunt gal. (Look it up). She started at 16 and smokes at least every hour. Yet she’s lucid, well spoken, and attractively built, unlike most potheads you know.

Dr. Drew says that she doesn’t realize how tough kicking pot is going to be. I say hogwash. Pot’s not lethal. No one has ever died of a marijuana overdose in recorded history. You’d eat yourself to death LONG before that could ever happen. This chick’s in it for the auditions but I like her, so I’ll be nice for now.

Next in the door is Brigitte Nielsen. I am not saying much here. This chick stopped being relevant when Rocky IV went to video, and the fact that she was married to at least two steroid psychos (Mark Gastineau and Sylvester Stallone) and fucked Flava-flav WHILE MARRIED on at least two reality shows makes her a non-issue to me. Of course, she walks in and immediately asks why Chyna had roomed with Mary, and then just told Chyna she would be her roommate now. I am assuming this is kind of how it works with chicks in prison. Although I’d be inclined to stay with Mary. She’s annoying, but you have to believe you would never be bored. By the conversation I mean. Did you think I meant sexually? Jesus you guys are perverted.

Here comes Jessica Sierra. The former American Idol runner-up who has been to jail several times, is broke, a coke whore, just had a sex tape with some bum hit the internet, and she has been sentenced to a YEAR of rehab in Florida pulls up and tells her tale of woe, which includes a drug addict mother who was a prostitute and died behind some apartment complex. Oh, and there are rumors that she’s pregnant. So far on the show, her highlight is that she’s the one they’ve shown puking many times. The good news is that she’s young and not totally used up yet, although seeing her “boyfriend’s” interview on Perez Hilton yesterday, I’d say she’s not far from it.

And then it happened. A black Escalade pulled to the curb, and out popped a Baldwin brother. I can never tell if it’s Steven or Billy or Drowsy or Jan or Marcia.

Oh I know. It’s the non-successful one. Daniel. His tag on the screen says “Actor and producer.” You all know that you become a “producer” when no one will hire you to act. And what was the last meaningful thing Danny boy was in, you might be asking?

TV’s “Homicide-Life on the Street.” In 1995. I guess you’d call that meaningful. I had to scroll down to “Born on the Fourth of July” to find a movie title I recognized, and that was nearly 20 years ago.

So you are as much of an actor as Conway is, in that you ACT like the world owes you since you once fell ass-backwards into some fame and money, and now your whole life is a pity party.

GBD looked up and went “Oh Jesus. I’m sick of him already. I’m already sick of him rehabbing.” This guy’s been on more shows about rehab and interviews about rehab than any person alive.

Then he proceeds to tell Dr. Drew that he’s been sober since October of 2006.

What? What the fuck did he say? Sober since 2006? So you are going to rehab for being sober?

I immediately thought of the Simpsons episode where Ned Flanders said, “It’s been 4,000 days since my last drink. It was my first — and last — blackberry schnapps.”

Then Daniel says he hopes that his stay in rehab saves someone else’s life.

God dammit!! That’s not why you go to rehab stupid. You go to save your own life! I think this guy actually likes rehab and relapses on purpose. We hate him.

(Note: On the show’s website, they mention Mixed Martial Arts fighter Ricco Rodriguez, but he was not on the show. So either he comes later as a fill-in for some other goof that leaves, or doesn’t show up at all. I hope they mention him).

Dr. Drew addresses everyone together at the end of the show, saying that “Most of you will not be here at the end, either because I will have made you leave or you will have walked out on your own.”

This is gonna be great tv.

Now that you have the cast, here are some highlights:

Jeff Conway sleeping. And mumbling. Always. And quite possibly mumbling while sleeping. This guy makes Muhammad Ali look like the President of Toastmasters. He makes Boomhauer seem lucid and well spoken. That combined with his wheel chair shuffling, snoring and crying is hilarious. I especially enjoy how his hallucinations are of coke straws with cocaine on them. Wow. That’s really a reach by your imagination Jeff.

Oh, and Jeff talking to the group out by the pool is also great. After he talks (I assume sincerely and openly) for about two minutes, Chyna looks at everyone and says “we’re gonna have to rehash that because I didn’t understand a single word he just said.”

And then they all laughed. Ah, the blessed support of group therapy. The good news is that Jeff was busy shitting his pants so he didn’t notice everyone had laughed at him.

This might be the best reality show ever.

Stay tuned for my predictions for how this season turns out for each person.

10
Jan

Pity for Britney

I know I’ve talked about this before, so feel free to skip this if you’d like.

But I’m curious about our (and the media’s) obsession with this idiot.  Further, I’m troubled and confused by people that are total strangers to Miss Spears giving a shit about her health, well-being, highs, lows, successes, failures, or anything else.

Why exactly does she deserve our pity?  Beyond the fact that her mother sold her daughter to the devil (Hollywood) before said daughter was old enough to know what was happening, Britney’s had every possible advantage and benefit of the doubt one could hope to have.

She’s apparently got more money than God given that despite owning several homes that cost millions of dollars, she’s constantly staying at five star hotels all over Los Angeles.

She’s got bodyguards.  She’s got lawyers.   She apparently owns some sort of top secret cloak of stupidity that means no matter when or how you break the law in public and on film, the po po will do nothing about it.  After all…she’s a celebrity.

My biggest complaint is that she’s a virtually talentless hack.  Her claim to fame?  Giving the 18-35 year old male demographic a two year boner following the release of “Oops, I did it again,” featuring an underage Britney Spears dressed in a slutted up private girl’s school uniform.

That’s not talent.  That’s every insecure girl I went to college with at every Halloween party I ever went to ever.

Once she turned 18, she had a choice to either progress  or play the same cards.

She chose “Not a girl, not yet a woman.”  Blech.

I would contend that Christina Aguillera has more talent in her gratuitously oversized left breast than Britney has in her whole crazy body.

Oh, and Aguillera was also on the same career path as Britney at the same age, so obviously it wasn’t the Mickey Mouse club that made Brit this way.

I think Avril Levigne is exponentially more talented than Spears as well.  Why?  Because I am fairly certain she sings.  Not so much for Britney.

Jessica Simpson is the Jonas Salk of talent compared to Britney.  And she also proved that you can be stupid and have crazy stage parents and still turn out okay, so that’s not it either.

In the end, I think the best thing that could happen for Britney, her family’s interest in her money, her kids, the paparazzi, the hotels in LA, and anyone else around her is that she pull a Marilyn Monroe/John Belushi and just be done with it.

And don’t roll your eyes.  The only reason any of you is watching that train wreck or reading this is to see if she can go Anna Nicole on us, leading the Ryan Seacrests of the world to untold hours of tv time regaling us with the spiraling descent into darkness, despair and death.

Oh, and the internet then giving us the Anna Nicole / Chris Farley crime scene photos.

I bet that’d make those pre-teen boners go away.

09
Jan

A riddle wrapped in an enigma bound in a puzzle boxed inside of a conundrum

So tonight is a very special night for 1doh. No, it’s not her first date. And no, it’s not (hopefully) going to be the first (or last) time she sees her father being stuffed into the back of a squad car.

Tonight her beloved kindergarten teacher Miss Scott is coming over to our house for dinner.

That may not sound like a big deal to you. But to my first-borne, this is the biggest day of her life.

Don’t believe me? Well, last night, she looked at me and the wife and as sternly and as she could, told us the following:

Daddy, I want you to dress up extra nice and fansome. (That’s her word. It’s fancy. It’s handsome. It’s FANSOME!)

Mommy, I want you to make really good food for dinner. And wear something really pretty. And wear your hair down. And put on makeup.

(for the record, I’m in favor of Miss Scott coming over for dinner every night if this is what I can expect in exchange for some slacks and an ascot).

Oh, and before dinner, 1doh is planning to share some quality time Wii-ing with Ms. Scott in the basement. Of course, that’s after I rush home and “Clean it up daddy, so it looks nice.”

Anyway, the little woman and me were IM-ing today, and this is what transpired:

Me: I want to rush home, clean up flies, and stuff all the wrapping and Styrofoam in trash bags and take the boxes outside. You know…to impress ms. Scott.

GBD: YES

She’s coming at 5:30

Think you can beat her here?

Me: not too likely, but I’ll try. I’m already dressed totally fansomely.

But I may add an ascot.

Bbl

GBD: k’

Me: what if I dressed all ghetto / hip hop and said stuff like “you K to the skizzle, this is how we roll up in the 770, beeehotch.”

Sent at 2:51 PM on Wednesday

Me: don’t ignore me, bitch.

Sent at 3:32 PM on Wednesday

Me: oh, and the thumb drive is apparently waterproof, at least in the short run. Who knows? Maybe the dryer helped. lol

Sent at 3:35 PM on Wednesday

GBD: lol

I’m trying to get this damn house ready.

Me: that’s it? LOL. Damn you woman.

GBD: don’t yell at me biotch

Me: have you put on your makeup yet?

GBD: I totally think you should be drunk

Me: and maybe a bridesmaid dress.

GBD: and cuss. And hit me

Me: sweet

Me: Oh I can totally get drunk. I bet she’s a solo cup gal.

If this night ended with me getting some, it’d be the best date ever.

GBD: and tell Lauren she’s worthless

Me: god you’re mean. I’d just hit you twice instead.

And put fia in the pantry. She likes it in there and that would look AWFUL!

Jesus, I should totally do that.

GBD: perfect.

Me: you know this ends up on a blog too…right?

GBD: oh - remember we are not allowed to call Lauren whatever it is we call her

Goofball or something

Me: you mean stinky vagina? ass scratcher? worthless whore? Which one?

GBD: no no - those are fine

It’s just goofball

Me: probably goober.

I think I should speak with a British accent.

And touch myself. a lot.

GBD: I’m guessing since this is the biggest day in her life we should probably do our best NOT to embarrass her

Me: you are taking this parenting shit WAY too seriously. I’ll ask my dad and see what he would do.

GBD: it could put her in therapy for real

Me: what if I hit on her? Not at all subtly?

GBD: well, he’d come to the table in his underwear, let the dog lick the toe jam out of his feet, make rutabaga and then fart all night

Me: again, if that night ended with me getting some, it’s high five’s all around baby.

GBD: well, who could resist??? You’d be rid of toe jam and all

Me: Holy shit. This might end up as the night of two times.

GBD: Well I just finished my first

Me: touché. Well-played Sensei.

And for the record, you are assuming that I care if you have any.

Sent at 3:44 PM on Wednesday

GBD: ok, back to cooking and cleaning I go

Me: love you.

GBD: love you too

Me: make sure the butter chicken is extra buttery, bitch.

GBD: why? To loosen your new arteries?

Me: no. I’m hoping to keep my stool loose like it has been. I lost about six pounds yesterday.

GBD: Ok, now I’m really hot. Hurry home

Me: Never mind. I’ll just finish up in the car on the way home.

GBD: k

 




 

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