i love the blogs: blogs back

the olympics are coming!!! woohooo... NOT!!! really, who watches the olympics? all the olympics are is a collection of sporting events that nobody, i mean NOBODY, cares about and then we're expected to tune in every four years all in the name of patriotism? like i've said before, i like america and am glad to have been born here but you won't see me waving the american flag or crying during the national anthem. being born an american is just as random as being born an albino, an alligator or, appropriately enough, an albino alligator. besides, why should i root for america? america is like that perfect guy in high school who was the star of the football team, got straight a's, got all the hot chicks and, ultimately, was a big fat jerk. you don't root for that guy. you have nothing in common with that guy. you don't want to see him succeed. you are jealous of this guy. in fact, you are filled with hypocritical glee when you see him lose the high school championship game to the rival team filled with their own collection of perfect jerks (ccs playoffs, hollister def. palma, best night of my hs life). that's why i've decided i'm hitching my train to jolly ol' england for the olympic games: brits are squirrelly looking, have bad teeth, have great command of the queen's english, can't cook, have horrible complexions, have fantastic senses of humour and can't cook... just like me - ba dum BLOGger!

video hits one (vh1) just came out with "i love the new millennium" which is in the same ilk as vh1's "i love the '70s," "i love the '70s: volume 2," "i love the '80s," "i love the '80s strikes back," "i love the '80s 3-d," "i love the 90's" and "i love the '90s: part deux." now, first and foremost, it should not be "i love the new millennium;" it should be "i love the oughts." that was the thing i was most looking forward to amongst all the y2k/y2j (thank you, chris jericho) end of the world poppycock; we were entering the "oughts!" we could've had cool monikers like "the oughts generation," "children of the oughts," "the ostentatious oughts" and so on. but noooo, we have lame things like "the new millennium" (which generically includes everything from 2000 -2099), "the 'thousands" and "o-1, o-2, etc." secondly, can you say "tooo sooooon!!!" aren't these shows' success based on the nostalgic warm and fuzzies? i'm sorry, i don't get the same emotions welling up inside my vein watching michael ian black "remember" youtube, "jackass" and katherine harris in the same vain as when i see hal sparks waxing poetic on lite-brite, billy ocean and "b.j. and the bear." we oughtn't have ought to got "i love the oughts" till about 2023.

i've never had the home box office (hbo) so i very much like catching up on all the tv shows i've never seen through netflix. hbo shows are just better than anything else on network television. not only are the storylines, production value and acting mo' betta' but you also have swearing and nudity. you haven't watched tv until you have the prospect of a gratuitous boobie waiting in the wings. although, i must say that if you've watched any hbo show you realize that like 75% of the show's total nudity occurs in the very first episode; they hook you with boobies and string you along the rest of the way with f' bombs and vomiting. yes, vomiting!!! anyone notice that? there's probably more spontaneous, graphic vomiting on hbo shows than the boobies and f' bombs combined. can you imagine how much greater a show like "lost" would be if kate ever slipped a nip, if jack ever called mr. ecko an n' word and/or if hurley vomited because the dharma ranch had gone bad? anyway, i digressed from what i originally wanted to blog about. i'm watching "six feet under" right now (you know, it's about a family-run funeral home) and now i'm super freaked out about dying since they have at least one person die in every episode. they don't just die in their sleep or of cancer either; there'll be drunken slipping in shower deaths, falling blue ice from airplanes deaths, choking on cereal deaths, etc. i am going to die, you are going to die and it can happen anytime anywhere. someone just died TEN MINUTES AGO, someone is dying RIGHT NOW and someone will die FIVE MINUTES FROM NOW!!! who will blog my blogs when i'm dead? :(

a common and popular misconception is that it's worse to talk ish behind someone's back rather than say that same ish to someone's face. you ask a million people what's worse and they'll all blindly say the former is worse... how do they figure? sure, there's the off chance that the person will find out the ish you dished behind their back but think about it; how often has that happened in your life? i dish a bevy of ish everyday and i can barely count on one hand the times it's come back to bite me on the arse. i can't remember many times when i've been told of others ishing dish behind my back either. however, if you do it to someone's face, they're going to hear it for sure... unless they're deaf or blind (you can blame it on someone else). speaking of which, can you imagine the awful things people must have said behind hellen keller's back? sheeesh! think about all the friends you've made, all the conversations fostered and all the laughter had based solely upon talking ish behind peoples' backs. friends, conversation and laughter are all good things!!! and, these things happen at an exponentially, disproportionately higher rate in comparison to getting called out on what you might've said about somebody behind their back. so, keep on dishin' that ish'... it's a good thing!

ba dum BLOG!!!

tell me how my blog tastes

attention to all atheists, apatheists, hippies, gays and satanists!!! i have a great way to stick it to the man... and god! however, i must stress that i'm dealing in hypotheticals because i think this might be illegal and we here at http://www.badumblog.blogspot.com/ would NEVER, EVER encourage the breaking, bending and/or 'bliterating of the law; especially since some high ranking steads of the government are known to get their ba dum BLOG!!! on, from time to time. anyway, a neat thing to do would be to get a writing utensil and cross out the "god" in the "in god we trust" on all your cash money (thank you, wilmer valderrrammma). actually, i think this excludes the hippies because they don't have college degrees, cash money and/or jobs :( nevertheless, i think this could be a fun and effective way to, at the very least, take god out of our wallets. and, you don't merely have to cross out its name either. you can replace it with "unicorns," "rainbows," "panda bears," "lisa frank," or... "ba dum BLOGger!!!" hypothetically speaking, of course.

costcos is great! whether you need a gallon drum of mayo, nitrogen filled tires and/or purple crocs; they've got it all (i think every comedian has some version of this joke in their repertoire. sorry for being a hackneyed, rainbow suspender wearing, hack). and the samples! omfg, i love "gossip girl".... and the samples! i remember my mom and i used to go to the costcos around lunch time just for the samples; we wouldn't even buy anything. however, nothing draws my ire more than all the okies settin' up their hoovervilles and shanty towns, clogging up the aisles all whilst waiting for their samples. is there a less dignified move than this? and, how about the poor sample ladies? you have these squatty hispanic women, wearing their poofy little hats and red aprons, slaving over a steamin' crock-pot while all these freeloaders circle her like a pack of hyenas on a three legged zebra. talk about pressure! see, these people need a lesson in coy and nonchalance. if the samples aren't ready, just casually walk past, linger and pretend you're reading the label on the back of a pickle jar or peruse the kirkland classics. don't just stand there! you should never have to break stride to pick up a sample - you just can't.

holy mackerel, how great was the shaquille o'neal freestyle rap song?!?!?! i think this will end up being my favourite thing of 2008. i may not know much about rapping songs and i've heard a lot of ill speech in regards to shaq-fu's raptitude but i found it incredibly refreshing, creative and hi-larious. sure, it might not have been as impromptu as it was presented and he did rhyme "me" with "me" on more than one occasion but that rhetorical hook - "kobe, tell me how my ass tastes" has been rattling around in my brain and rolling off my tongue for three days now. i guarantee, this will usurp "you got served" as the new urban phrase that white peoples will ironically propagate as their own. and, i betcha' a "lisa frank" dolla' bill that when kobe goes to the foul line at road arenas a rousing rendition of said rhetorical hook will echo much in the same way pedro martinez was serenaded with the "who's your daddy" chant. shaq daddy deisel didn't just go after kobe either; he took down p-puffy diddy daddy, pat ewing, kareem abdul-jabbar, white peoples, talked about his vasectomy, his divorce and dropped a few n' bombs!!! see, kobe needs to learn from this - if you're affable, charismatic and funny you can throw any old "n' word" under the bus.

ba dum BLOG!!!

webeblogs

smoking looks cool - it just does. i'm not being sarcastic either. i know it's unhealthy and gross but you can't deny the hipness of leaning up against your car (especially a 2003 malibu), casually taking a drag, making that squinty smokers face and exhaling a silky plume of white smoke. i remember i tried smoking once. i was nineteen, in college and feeling adventurous - watch out world! i didn't even know how to hold the darn thing or what end to light - i still don't. heck, i think i even had to have someone light it for me. is this normal or are these things that people just naturally know? this is the same reason why i never really took to the marijuana; i was tired of being the guy in the circle who fumbled around with the pipe and didn't have the coordination to light it without getting third degree burns on my thumb. anyway, back to the cigarette; i took one hit and thought i'd die. for the next 45 minutes my chest was on fire and i had this deep gurgly cough that was so intense i saw stars after every heavin’, hackin’, hork of phlegm. now, i'd assume that this is similar to everyone’s first experience with the cigarettes, right? if so, how does one push past this, how could anyone possibly become a smoker after such an unpleasant experience? are people's need to be "cool" and fit in this intense or am i just that big of a dork? people would not be smoking if smoking looked like rollerblading.

what do ty cobb and charlize theron have in common??? lets break it down - ty cobb: born in 1886, dead, hall of fame baseball player, racist, nicknamed the "georgia peach," early stock holder in the coca-cola company. charlize theron: born in 1975, alive, south afrikaan, oscar winner, naked in playboy, has shown boobs, bush and breast in film and on my laptop and desktop computer. now, these two seem as far apart as can be, right? what could bond these two? what topic could these two wax poetic on into the wee hours over a few drinks and some appetizers (preferably cape cods, sea breezes, mozzarella sticks and jalapeño poppers)? any guesses? is there a way to properly and actively guess on a blog when i'm going to give you the answer in a few lines? well, aside from neither of them ever being in my kitchen, both ty cobb's and charlize theron's fathers were shot to death by their mothers. ty cobb's father suspected his wife of infidelity and he once took to snooping around the house trying to catch her in the act when mrs. cobb mistook him for an intruder and shot him down. while mrs. theron shot her drunk and abusive husband in self-defense. neat!

dag nabbit!!! i just hit the infernal, good for nuthin', rackin' frackin' insert key... again!!! i just typed over a whole blog because i only type with one finger so i have to keep my eyes glued to the keyboard at all times. aside from magically transforming me into yosemite sam, what is it for? why wouldn't you just move the cursor to the beginning of your text and simply delete what you don't want? i remember the first time i hit the insert key i was in the middle of penning a literary essay about d.h. lawrence and his use of "horses" and had no clue what had happened and almost threw my parents computer through the window. does anyone actually use this button for good or is it always a wrench in your proverbial gears, a hitch in your proverbial giddy-up, a stick in your proverbial spokes, a spanner in your proverbial works and/or a pea beneath your proverbial mattress? either way, because of the insert key, you've all been deprived of a scintillating blog breaking down the differences betwixt "bluto/brutus" and "muttley/mumbly."

in lieu of regaling you with stories of girls not liking me, not knowing how to hold a cigarette and my non-genetically induced balding i'm going to blow my own oboe… for once. if anyone remembers back a few weeks there was a sad story about a boy scout troop getting killed by a tornado. once i heard this i had a late night talk show, monologue worthy joke to tell. now, i've already told this to a half-dozen people to mostly blank stares and faces ranging from disgust to consternation but i think it's f'n genius. okay, here we go: what were the last words of the boy scouts killed by the tornado??? WEBELOS!!!! get it???? "we blows!!!" see, "webelos" is an acronym for some sort of cub scout rank or badge meaning "we be loyal scouts." couldn't you see and hear david letterman or spike feresten telling this joke? i am a great talent and see a great future for me and my blog!

ba dum BLOG!!!

blog itch

have you ever seen the commercials for those new-fangled mattresses where you can drop a bowling ball on one side of the bed and it won’t topple over the glass of wine on the other? then, you hear the booming voiceover proudly proclaim "with technology developed by nasa!" wait, what? nasa??? can you imagine going through eight years at mit or stanford to finally get hired on at nasa and get relegated to mattress duty? i see it going down like this - there'd be a giant, goggled bald dude wearing a lab coat, holding a clipboard and doling out assignments...
begin scene.
"mr. chang, you get ufo's."
"yesssss! (fist pump)"
"mr. hop choi, you get light speed."
"yesssss! (fist pump)"
"and, let's see, mr. wolodarski, you get, ummmm, mattresses."
"mattresses again, wtf??? (foot stomp) why do all the asians get the cool shizz? i'd rather get tang than f'n mattresses...again! i know for a fact you can't even use a mattress in space! plus, without gravity, the bowling ball and wine would get all over the place. i'm a rocket scientist for crying out loud! i am the barometer at which all intelligence is measured!!! wait, is this because i'm polish???"
end scene.

omg, i hate golf. i gave into the hype this past weekend and actually watched tiger woods with his smug, little sour puss face and contrived red, power shirt for all but three minutes before i couldn't take it anymore and switched back to the "made" marathon on the mtv. the reverence people hold for this guy is ridiculous. can you believe people are talking about a golfer in the same breath as great sports figures like babe ruth and michael jordan? heck, tiger couldn't even hold luke walton's jock. look, golf is a sport but, in terms of actual athleticism, it probably ranks just above bowling and nascar and falls just short of cycling. all you need to do is watch charles barkley attempt to golf to realize that it requires a weird, specialized skill set that doesn't necessarily translate to agility, speed or strength (the true tenants of athleticism). i wish they still had "the wide world of sports" so i could see tiger embarrass himself trying to run the intermediate hurdles. another thing, how much better do you think golfer's scores could be if they could just roll out there in shorts and a t-shirt instead of slacks and a collared shirt? you know, it probably doesn't even matter. this just goes to show how lame a sport golf is if you don't even have to wear athletic wear to be at your best.

reason no. 352 of why it's better to be a guy than a girl: our rashes get decked out with masculine, macho names that connote studly behaviour like "athlete's foot" and "jock itch" while chicks get domestic sounding names that evoke baking like "yeast infections" or, blatant names that don't even attempt at saving the poor lady any dignity like "vaginal itch." see, our maladies are from the result of being athletic and active - it's just collateral damage of being a weekend warrior. even our medical remedies are cool sounding like "gold bond medicated powder" or "BOOM! tough actin' tinactin." then, of course, the ladies have "vagisil." would you, as a guy, buy something called "weiner wash" or "dirty ding-a-ling?" hecks to the no! they also have "douche bags" which is an innocuous enough name - it's french, it's cultured, it's classy! yet, "douche bags" are now more synonymous with being a jerk or a rapist rather than a conduit and bastion of hygiene. in conclusion: womens and everything about womens is dirrrty.

ba dum BLOG!!!

editor's note: breaking news straight from the home office of www.badumblog.blogspot.com - tiger is out for the season with more knee issues... :(

ba dum BLOGger has no "game" vol. 2

this is quickly becoming my favourite blog to blog... and yours to read. although, i fear my encounters with women will become less and less organic and lean more towards whimsy and the ridiculous since the endgame is shifting from getting into lady's bloomers to entertaining the few in the form of blog. still though, this is a good thing because as my flirtations grow, so do the odds of finding my loin mate or, at the very least, a loin buddy.

so, i went to the movies with a lady pal from work the other night to see "the happening" (quick review: m. night should stick to "bollywood," thank you). it was a crowded theater and we took our seats next to a young man and woman of indeterminate relations. i immediately had to excuse myself to drain the vane and, upon returning, i see the young man is gone, leaving an empty seat between me and his lady of indeterminate relations. i then made an offhanded joke to my lady pal from work to the effect of me being annoyed with having to wash my hands since there were other people in the bathroom and i didn't want to look gross. the young lady then leans across the empty seat betwixt us and says "oh my god, i do the same exact thing!" i reply, "why bother? i only touched one thing in there and i know that's clean. she laughed and with that the flirting was on... for the next thirty seconds.

i had her going too until she abruptly broke eye contact, repositioned herself firmly back into her seat and said "here comes my husband...just so you know." i was so nonplussed i could barely muster a response. but, if i had my druthers, i'd have quipped, "bummer, i was hoping he was single." but i didn't have my aforementioned druthers and another harmless flirtation went for naught. really though... why did that nice young lady who shares my penchant of not washing her hands after a tinkle freak out like that? i have to admit though, it did feel kinda' neat to be seen as a threat, rife with unbridled sexuality, in lieu of an "asexual pod person," as i was once likened to in college by a female neighbor with a terrific rack.

oh, and then i went out for another over night drunk with some pals last night. i was engaging in the art of conversation/flirtation with this one lady friend of a friend who is pretty much out of my league but she was nice and seemed receptive enough nonetheless - we'll call her "betty." i didn't think much of it afterwards other than "betty" was nice, easy on the eyes and i wouldn't mind hanging out with her again." so i was talking to my pal "archie," who was my friend of her friend, the next day and he said "i have something funny to tell you. "betty" asked me today if you were "gay?" needless to say, this left me feeling lamer than "jughead"... only i don't have a "big ethel" to fall back on.

ba dum BLOG!!!

'85 celtics v. '02 kings: whoever wins, we all lose

now, i've had this one chambered for a while because i was reluctant to release it. i just felt it was hypocritical and mean spirited especially since i went on my sarah jessica parker jag. howeva' (thank you, stepehen a. smith), there is a double standard amongst mens and womens in regards to making fun and crackin' wise; especially when you have a bunch of successful, millionaire jocular jocks.

so yes, this is a look at who had the all-time ugliest basketball team of all-time between the '85 celtics and the '02 kings. it should especially be noted that two of the kings best players (chris webber and peja stojakovic) had to be omitted because they're actually very easy on the eyes and the hardwood (yessssss!).

plus, with all the trips down memory lane with the celts in the finals and all the refereeing scandal ballyhoo with the '02 kings, these two teams will never be more relevant at the same time EVER. and, as you well know, www.badumblog.blogspot.com/ is where relevancy comes to roost.

point guards
dennis johnson: sorry, but a black man just cannot wear freckles...he just can't. mike bibby: he is one ugly, bi-racial mess who has an uncanny resemblance to weekly world news' "batboy." winner: dennis johnson, celtics. rip.
shooting guards
danny ainge: actually, he isn't really that bad. definitely the looker of the bunch. i just didn't feel like searching for a pic of "cornbread" maxwell. doug christie: another bi-racial mess. must i go to race? yes. he looks like a skinny skeletor. winner: doug christie, kings.
small forwards
larry bird: no bigger discrepancy between greatness and beauty. and no greater similarity among surname and face. hedo turkoglu: he's the reason i don't have hd tv. however, he's just "euro ugly" when bird is "universe ugly." winner: larry bird, celtics.
power forwards
kevin mchale: he's like a strange combination between frankenstein, lurch and a sleestack. scot pollard: sure, he's ugly but he perpetuates and cultivates his ugliness with his wacky hair. In short, he OWNS it. winner: kevin mchale, celtics.
centers
robert parish: "the chief" scowl puts the fear of god into pale faces across the land. vlade divac: again, "euro ugly." he's probably a studly fella' in his native yugolslavia. winner: robert parish, celtics.
sixth men
bill walton: all the worse parts of every ugly white feature there is: red hair, freckles, wooden teeth, etc. bobby jackson: all the worse parts of every ugly black feature there is: broad nose, goofy ears, bluish hue, etc. winner: bobby jackson, kings (RACIST!!!)

okay, so that's a three to three tie. and the tiebreaker goes to.....

SAM CASELL!!!!

ba dum BLOG!!!

blogging for dummies

my newest man crush, former nba coach and espn/abc's current lead tv analyst, jeff van gundy, made an excellent point during last nights basketball game. he, a bald man, queried why he has to pay full price for a haircut when he has half the hair and it takes half the time. i've never heard this brilliant point made before - 90% of comedians are bald; how could this have slipped past them? now, all i know is supercuts and places of the ilk and they'll have the price breakdown like a menu at a deli: haircut $15, haircut and shampoo $20, dye job $25, etc. why not "bald man haircut $8?" it's only fair; all the "style technician" has to do is around the ears, the neck and a few stray scalpies. you know what, as a balding man myself, i'd venture to say that balding men, on average, spend more money on hair products/procedures than non balding men anyway. the least society could do for us is give us a half priced haircut once we've given up the good fight. oh, and in case you're wondering, i refuse to ever go with the cool dude, completely shaved look; i'm rockin' the "cul-de-sac" like my heroes larry david, george costanza and, the aforementioned, jeff van gundy.

i was at el quizno's the other day and ordered a tuna sandwich on white but received a tuna sandwich on wheat. of course i didn't say anything because my poor self-esteem precludes me from standing up for myself, but it suddenly occurred to me why this happened. now, my initial thought was to blame it on the illegal alien (our country's great bugaboo) who took my order and made my sandwich but i think it has more to do with the phonetic similarities betwixt "white" and "wheat." i'm really surprised this doesn't happen more often as the din and chaos of a crowded deli doesn't exactly lend itself phonetic nuance. i say we nix the "white/wheat" and go with "white/brown." problem solved. this also reminds me of the whole "north/south," "east/west" debacle on freeway signs. when you're driving, don't know where you are and are especially looking for the freeway signs i find it difficult to distinguish between the directions when the words are visually, almost exactly the same. why not just use a giant "n," "s," "e," "w" in lieu of spelling out the whole word? i am a great thinker.

ventriloquism acts usually aren't very funny. but i think i have a genius idea for a ventriloquist act that wouldn't even require you to be a ventriloquist. okay, so you have your ventriloquist dummy but you, the person, sit on his lap and glue his hand to your rectum and play off that you're the dummy and he's the man. you wouldn't even have to throw your voice and you could move the dummy's mouth as you talk and make fun of him for being a crappy ventriloquist. you, the person, can be the funny, perverted puppet making sawdust jokes while the dummy would have to be the straight, boring guy - no more being upstaged by a wooden puppet! plus, visually, it'd be really, really funny to see a grown man sitting on a dummy's lap. you, the person, would get to have the cool, flashy name like "mr. muffin" and the dummy would get a lame, nondescript name like "don." there really is no downside to this. i'm gonna' do it, get really famous, bang a bunch of hos and then write a book called "ventriloquism for dummies."

remember back in little league when you'd be standing in the batter's box all knock kneed and scared to death of everything all while your coach would be yelling things like "good eye!" or "wait for your pitch!" as you just stand their with your bat on your shoulder because the idea of swinging is even more terrifying than getting beaned or hit in the groin? did your coach seriously think you were some brett butler-esque, disciplined hitter or did he know if you swung you would just strike out and a walk was your best chance? because, you know what? i seriously bought into it and felt like "hey, look at me. i know what i'm doing up here. i'm being selective. i'm gonna' walk!" either way, if i'm ever a little league coach i'm going to be screaming "SWING!!!, SWING THE BAT YOU PUSSY!!!!! SWING!!!!!!!" and just show them videotapes of vladimir guerrero swinging at balls bouncing off the dirt. see, i think there are two types of men in life and it's decided when you're twelve-years-old: you either swing or keep your bat on your shoulder. and, as i sit here in my cubicle at my remedial, entry-level job with colleagues in their 30s and 40s who are clearly my intellectual inferiors i think it's clear where i stand...

ba dum BLOG!!!

ba dum BLOGger has no "game" vol. 1

methinks it might be funny and entertaining to occasionally blog the trials and travails of me trying to pick up on chicks because the outcomes are decidedly tragic or, at the very least, disconcerting and unsettling. see, i am very bad at this sort of thing and lack (what the cool kids are calling it) "game." as always, i promise all these anecdotes will be true and contain nothing more than a smidgen of a modicum of hyperbole. because, as all blogga's know, you gots to have hyperbole.

so, i went down to the lbc this weekend to go on an overnight drunk with some chums o' mine and we ended up at this collegey type bar where one pal randomly ran into an old gal pal of his. somehow, i started chattin' it up and spittin' game at one of her very drunk friends (it must be noted i had an in since she was my friend's friend otherwise i would never have talked to her).

we all took a shot and my drunk girl (we'll call her "marty"... i know, sounds kinda' gay but this is the first name that popped into my head) knocked the glass out of my hand and she immediately picks up all the broken glass and hands them to me which slices up my finger and i start bleeding. i ignore this though and sally forth because i'm drunk as well and have my game face on. then, "marty" asks me if i smoke and i say "no" and she says "well, i'm going out to smoke and you should come with me anyway." now i'm starting to feel my oats and have a little pep in my step as i coolly look to my pals and say "catch ya' later, loooosersss. i'm going outside with my drunk lady "marty."

we get outside and "marty" imediately plops down on a bench, lights up a fag and engages in the art of conversation on her cell phone. so there i am; cold and drunk looking like a "dick for" with my hands in my pockets while "marty" is chewin' the fat with god knows who. then, she remembers i exist, calls me over, hands me the phone and tells me to ask for "larry." i oblige, of course, because i may be on the ropes but i'm feeling a rocky-esque comeback a brewin' in my loins. i say "hi, is larry there" to the response of "this is "dominos pizza," there's no one here by that name." "marty" cracks up at this, takes the phone back from me and continues on with her normal conversation. i really wish i had the creativity to make this up.

but wait, there's more! "marty" starts to make her way back to the bar, with me , dutifully following behind. she re-enters and the bouncer arm bars me and says "not so fast, my friend" (thank you, lee corso). "i was just in here" i say. "i was with the girl." "marty!" i call, "marty." she doesn't even flinch, she just keeps on keepin' on. "i don't remember a thing about you" says the bouncer. "not your face, not your shirt, not your shoes, nothing... get to the back of the line!" but i would not "get to the back of the line." what i wanted to do more than anything was call this bouncer a "racist" (because he happened to be black) and explain to him how i was better than him because i have a college degree and make my living by working 9 to 5 (thank you, dolly parton), monday through friday and get to spend my money on saturday nights as opposed to sitting outside of a bar at 1:30 in the a.m. and checking coeds' identification cards.

but i did not say or do this. i continued to stand outside, cold and drunk with my hands in my pockets like a "dick for." i was at a state of imbibery where i had no concept of time so this could have lasted anywhere between ten minutes to an hour; i have no clue. eventually closing time mercifully came and as everyone was pouring out of the bar i actually saw "marty" walk by with some dude but this was neither here nor there because all my carnal passions had shifted from my loins, to my belly and ultimately towards making a late night taco bell run. then, some big dude comes up to me and asks, "hey, have you seen "marty?" and i say "sure... i just saw her walk past with some dude." then, he gets in my face and says "watch it, that's my sister you're talking about." i wanted to say "what do you want from me? you want me to lie? you want me to tell you i just saw some dude carrying her to his '84 camaro like a six pack?" (i hope this visual translates because it's quite striking) but i did not say or do this. i found my friends, we went to t-bell and "89 cents is what we're gonna’ pay."

ba dum BLOG!!!

ghost blog

when i die i wanna' be a ghost. now, i know that there are varying ghost rules out there but, for the sake of this blog, i'll be the kind that's invisible, can go through walls and fly really fast. so, how would i spend my time as a ghost? would i travel to far off lands, sit in on the president's cabinet meetings, attend all the greatest sporting events with on field/court seats??? nope! i'd basically just float into hot chicks' bedrooms and/or bathrooms and look at them in various states of undress. yup, i'd be a big old, pervert ghost. i'd spend the first few years checking out all the girls i've ever known in the history of my life and then, once i'm done with that, i'd just hang out at various high school... ahem, college campuses and follow hot chicks back to their dorm rooms. i'm not even joking either, i'm dead serious about this. if i were to meet st. peter at the pearly gates of heaven i'd simply say "no thanks, can you make me a ghost, please?" and, i'll tell you one thing; i most definitely will not be spending my afterlife helping my kids take out the trash a la bill cosby in "ghost dad."

has anyone ever noticed that like 97% of comedy clubs have the brick wall motif serving as the backdrop for the stage? what is this? why is this? are they trying to simulate an urban, man on the street kind of thing where these comedians are just crackin' wise in some alley or out back of some burnt out bingo hall? or, have they done scientific tests on this where it's proven that brick walls elicit laughter and/or make people want to buy alcoholic beverages. are these actual real brick walls or are they just hollywood set type prop walls? would it be blindingly genius or deafeningly retarded if a comedian were to actually make this observation funny and do a bit on it? this is going nowhere...

we need to revisit such misnomers as "internet stalking," "date rape," and "partial abortion." excuse me while i put on my misogynistic, insensitive viking helmet. first off, you don't "stalk" on the internets. you peruse on the internets. this is like the difference betwixt window shopping and shoplifting. you can't "stalk" if you're sitting in your bedroom, safely behind the glow of your monitor. secondly, "date rape" isn't "rape"...most of the time. it's just a miscommunication of sorts. i've had three and a half sexual experiences in my life (one of those was on the internets) and it's never gone through without a fair amount of cajoling and elbow grease on my part. seriously, the lady is never fully on board; it's just a matter of whether she regrets it or not. it's "date regret." lastly, there's been all this talk of "partial abortions" because of barrack o'bama (who is our nation's first "half white" major party nominee not the first "black" nominee, thank you). how can you partially abort? are you just lopping off an arm or a leg? abortions seem like an all or nothing enterprise.

ba dum BLOG!!!

ugly, filthy, loser blogger

all this gay marriage ballyhoo is seriously turning me into "crazy, radical political guy." i swear, i'm this close to buying a bumper sticker. see, i feel that war, gas prices, the environment, the economy, etc. all take a back seat (pun INTENDED) to gay marriage. excuse me while i get serious here for a second and blowharder than i ever have blown in a blog before. okay, the way i see it, the easiest and most important thing in the world and in your life is to treat people nice and fairly based on the golden rule (yay, apatheists for jesus!), basic common sense and human empathy. on a local, national and global level, human rights should trump all. i will not tolerate or accept those who "tolerate," "accept," or apathetically say "i don't care about gay marriage." no!!! you will care!!! i've heard every excuse in the book against gay marriage from religious and economical to the inane slippery slope (pun INTENDED?) of bestiality and polygamy. i don't care if marriage is defined as being betwixt "a man and a woman" either. if a freak show like michael jackson can make "bad" "good" then i think we can tweak the definition of gay marriage. ugh, i'm such a fruit fly.

are you as pathetic and delusional as i am? and, if you are reading my blog than the answer is "YES!" but, every time i hear of a celebrity couple breaking up i immediately get this fleeting, but very real, feeling of opportunistic optimism like "hey, i've got a chance, now." i'll watch movies, tv shows and visit websites like perezhilton.com and legitimately feel the only thing separating me from dating a natalie portman or an amy winehouse is the fact that they're either in a relationship or that we've merely just never met - simple as that. granted, i can't even get the frumpy girl at the grocery store or the third homeliest girl in a group of four at a dive bar but if mary kate olsen ever breaks up with her millionaire greek, shipping heir bf and we happen to bump into each other at the pinkberry then it's go time. am i right though? do all guys think like this or is it just me?

with the fact that i live in la and that the lakers are on the cusp of winning yet another championship (sorry, the celtics have no shot) i feel compelled to go hard-core sports on you and scientifically explain to you why i and you should hate the lakers. actually, scratch that...not the lakers themselves (except for kobe because he's a punk), but laker fans. if you are an actual, legitimate sports fan you understand and realize that once you are born as a fan of one team or choose your team when you first become aware of sports that this is your team for life and no matter how hard you try or how much you want it you can never switch allegiances. i've tried, it's impossible. see, what you have in la is a town of transplants. nobody is from la. everyone came here to get famous or get rich. this is a fact. see, i've met true basketball fans from all across the country and they are all conveniently laker fans all of a sudden. and, the only reason for this is because they're like the best basketball franchise ever and consistently have championship teams every decade. oh, it's so easy to forget your hawks, your cavs, your pacers when you move to la at the ripe age of 25, forget your true team and jump on the bandwagon. i guarantee that 60% of laker fans grew up a fan of another, crappier team. i bet they can't even explain why they're called the "lakers." it's just not fair. and yes, i am jealous. you can't just conveniently switch your team to the greatest team ever. you just can't. all these bandwaggoners are the same people who think fake boobies and a new nose make you pretty. underneath it all you're still an ugly, filthy, loser atlanta hawks fan.

ba dum BLOG!!!

blogophobes

all these hypochondriacs/ germophobes are driving me crazy. i'll be at the gym, on my beloved elliptical machine, and you'll have these lunatics spraying disinfectant and wiping down the machinery for like ten minutes before indulging in the "burn." is sweat that gross? is there even germs in sweat? i don't think so. look at nba players; pat ewing will literally be sweating at a tsunamic rate all over anyone standing downstream from him and do you see his peers revolting in disgust or running off the court looking for kurt rambis to wipe them down? no, and cagers are like thoroughbreds; some of the healthiest people on the planet. then, at the workplace, you have all these nut jobs opening doors with paper towels, disinfecting themselves all day and using those tissue paper toilet covers. for one thing, i walk around work trying to get sick. i've missed a few days with the common cold and there is not one time, as i lay there in bed watching the entire third season of "curb your enthusiasm" or playing solitaire for the eight time, that i say to myself, "gee, i'd do anything to trade in this fever, sore throat, diarrhea, headache, etc. just to be sitting in my cubicle, wasting my life, shuffling papers and watching the clock." and, another thing; i don't even get how those tissue paper toilet seat covers work. if i'm not sliding off the toilet seat because it's so darn slippery, then my turd is stuck on that middle part of the seat cover that i can't punch out. needless to say, i'm a bare ass, cold toilet seat kinda' blogger.

you ever see these sign spinner people standing on street corners who advertise things like new apartment complexes, cell phone deals or $5 pizzas at the "little caesar's?" see, businesses have engaged in a sort of guerilla advertising where they'll recruit and hire these g.e.d./minority types and train them in the mystical ways of sign spinning and stick them on a trafficky street corner in hopes of catching the eye of an unsuspecting motorist looking for cheap pizza and/or a condo. well, i have been this aforementioned "unsuspecting motorist" many o' times and this advertising/marketing scheme makes no sense to me. for one thing, how are you supposed to read the sign when it's flying/spinning in the air, being thrown around the back and through the legs of said sign spinner? would you make a spinning bilboard or traffic sign? no, because the point of signs is to be read. i could see if the sign spinners were selling sign spinning classes but they're not. also, isn't this dangerous for said motorists? how many pileups have resulted from motorists trying to figure out what the words are on these spinning signs. it's like sue ellen mitschke wearing a bra as a top!!!

contrary to popular belief (if "popular belief" constitutes the three people who read my blog), i can be sensitive to other people's feelings and sometimes things just plain rub me the wrong way. for instance, with all the hubbub and ballyhoo over the "sex and the city" movie there has been a revisiting and/or revival of sorts in regards to the "sarah jessica parker looks like a horse" humour. look, she may not be punching her weight in the natural beauty to sexy role ratio but it's just so mean spirited to compare the poor lady to a horse. heck, the sophomoric geniuses (hypocritical?) of maxim even named sjp the "no. 1 unsexiest person alive." really, "unsexiest?" is that even necessary? the thing that's the most heartbreaking about this is that sjp even came out and said how this sort of thing hurts her feelings. besides, by all accounts, she seems like a perfectly delightful, well-adjusted and down-to-earth person. hey, make fun of vapid, selfish ho-bags like paris hilton all you want but let's leave the nice people with actual talent alone. see, people just don't understand beauty; if you've ever watched "sex and the city" or any of her other movies sjp really does have a very cute and sweet way about her that more than makes up for her oblongular features. heck, i'd toss a few beans in her pail.

ba dum BLOG!!!

editor's note: blogger would like to make clear that, while he finds specific insults in the "sjp /horse" vane unsettling, he is more than okay with broad, sweeping generalizations in the ilk of all jewish persons having "horse faces."