Monday, May 29, 2006

Random Rambling Second Thoughts

I have a friend who is a chef. He has a pus-filled oozing skin infection. He makes everything from scratch.

This season ‘Desperate Housewives’ storylines had less depth than a Nicole Ritchie bowel movement.

I used to have six-pack abs now I’ve got the Coors Lite Beer bubble.

Phone sex is about the safest sex you can have with a complete stranger. A condom over the phone during phone sex is even safer.

I’ve never had any one-night stands, but I’ve had my share of one-night lay downs.

I once dated a girl with a chemical imbalance; her left breast implant was bigger than her right.

My boss is a real micro-manager. Not at the office but on the field. He manages a softball team of little people.

I have two friends who are doctors. One is a proctologist, the other a psychiatrist. They both spend their days examining nuts.

I know a woman who is a pre-op transsexual and on the surgery waiting list. Her name is Anita Johnson.

I like my shadow, but I have to remind him sometimes when he gets too cocky that he puts his pants on the same way I do.

My gay brothers sex life is much like his favorite yogurt- fruit on the bottom.

I know a woman who testified against the Mafia and is now in the Witness Protection Program. Her name is Anne Anonymity.

Two of my favorite Olympic athletes: Eamonn Fyre ; an Irish Archery Gold Medalist and Seymour Toukas; a Greek Greco-Roman Wrestling Gold Medalist.

My brother-in-law is so fragile he tore his ACL running a fund-raiser.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

So Many Idle Americans Who Didn’t Get Lost

Nearly 34 million viewers caught the two-hour show finale of ‘American Idol’. ‘Lost’ enjoyed a healthy 17.5 million viewers for its two-hour finale.

I myself on the other hand was one of 10 viewers who caught Dr. Phil’s primetime special. The other 9 included Dr. Phil, Oprah, and 7 members of the McGraw family.

Thank God for TiVo…

I think Simon has officially become the least annoying person associated with the show.

Clay Aiken and Michael Sandecki? Hey Clay.. Simon LeBon called he wants his look back. Michael was so overcome with emotion at the site of Clay coming up from behind he nearly had a stroke… but couldn’t reach.

Why was Hasslehoff crying? Were the Marshals from L.A. County in the Kodak Theater with a warrant or something? I’ve heard his music I should be the one in tears.

For years Prince wouldn’t leave Paisley Park, now we can’t get rid of him. Is QVC the next stop? When the biggest hit off your new album is in Spanish.. it’s over half-pint. Take all your hot poontang and fly back to your purple house.

Taylor Hicks.. You are a talented guy and good luck to ya’. One question though. How did you manage to look older than Keith Richards when you are only 29? Keith has years of self abuse to blame. After 10 years of pop fame can we expect Taylor to resemble Andy Rooney?

Chris Daughtry performed with Ed Kowalczyk the lead singer of the band "Live," That was cool. For an encore, I wish they would have put their heads together and made an ass of themselves.

Dionne Warwick performed with Burt Bacharach for a medley of "Walk On By" and "That's What Friends Are For". Walk on by is what the plastic surgeon should have done before Dionne’s last bit of work. Joan Rivers probably laughs at her but we wouldn’t be able to tell.

I think I liked this show better when it was called ‘Star Search’.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Recollection of a Cereal Slacker

Do you remember when you were young how much you loved cereal? (Rice Krispies, Cookie Crisp, Quisp, Cap'n Crunch, Frankenberries). Then one day your mom decided you were getting too much sugar in the morning, so she traded in your Frosted Flakes for Wheaties and you were really, really pissed. Being an industrious little fella you found a way to work around the blandness by dumping a pound of sugar on the Wheaties and they almost tasted like Frosted Flakes.

Then the day came when she busted you with the ample bag of sugar and the shovel/spoon and you were screwed. Although you didn’t know it, from that day forward Mom made sure the house was sugar free. The next time she went food shopping she came home with Special K.

There is nothing special about Special K.

Then the next morning you woke up in your Ninja Turtle pajamas and gently turned off the night light. With blankie clutched tightly under right arm you marched downstairs in anticipation of the early morning cereal sugar rush and all you found in the cupboard was the Special K? You started crying uncontrollably, stomped your feet, and started yelling “You’re a bad mommy, you’re a bad mommy!!”. “I wish I wasn’t your son and I wish I had a nicer mommy, who likes Cookie Crisp!!!.”

Between drags of the freshly lit Marlboro red she just shook her head and said, “Listen loser, if you don’t like it here why don’t you just leave already, I mean you are 28 years-old for chrissakes.”

Friday, May 19, 2006

Next It’s Daycare at Neverland with Uncle Michael

I think little Sean Preston’s first words are going to be “Please mommy just go on your 'Lipsync '07' tour already so the nanny can take of me!” On Thursday Britney stumbled outside the Ritz-Carlton in Manhattan with the little tyke in one hand and a drink in the other.

Sean Preston almost hit the sidewalk but Jack Daniels remained unscathed. I bet her Pa is real proud of her.

It’s been a bad week for Britney. Just a few days ago she was photographed driving with Sean Preston in a car seat facing forward rather than facing backward, in a convertible on a sunny day.

Britney was visited by a sheriff's deputy at her home in Malibu, Calif., last month after Sean Preston slipped from his nanny's arms as she was lifting him from a high chair and something in the chair snapped. That place in Malibu has got to be a double-wide on wheels, right? "Get Er Done!"

In February authorities visited Spears' home after photos showed the singer in a car with her son in her lap, instead of being strapped to a car seat in the back seat. She first blamed pursuits by the paparazzi, but later said it was her Pa's fault; "Daddy wants my boy to win Talladega one day real bad, weeze just gettin' a head start, y'all need to chill."

Do you notice how Kevin Federline is never around when any of this goes down? He’s too busy doing nothing. Nothing is time consuming. He's spending the majority of his time sleeping in, and what’s left is used to produce un-listenable hip-hop.

Neither Britney nor Kept-Fed are going to win a round of Jeopardy anytime soon. But at least she has a marketable skill, and no it’s not daycare. Federline, on the other had seems to have no marketable skills besides being a human sponge.

He hit the jackpot when he married Britney, and unlike that other goober she married he’s going to get paid big before he fades away. I remember an interview with Federline right after the wedding he was asked if he had a pre-nup. He said “Hell NO, I’m fully circumcised!”

Poor Jason "not Constanza" Alexander. He went to Vegas… got married, had wild sex all night with Britney then got divorce papers pushed in his face the next day courtesy of Britney’s mom and her team of lawyers. Jason never even got the chance have Britney pay for his studio time to cut that country music demo.

And now Britney is pregnant again. How is she going to juggle two infants? Probably blindfolded with one arm tied behind her back and thong showing.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Baby You Can Drive My Car…Right To The Bank

Now I ain’t sayin’ she’s a Goldigger..but she ain’t messin’ with no broke singer.
~Kayne McCartney

Heather, Heather, Heather. Now that it’s over between you and Sir Paul can I call you? Email? Fax? IM? Please. I can’t play multiple instruments, I can’t even write silly love songs, but I can do whatever you say, whenever you say.. real good.

Landmines… I hate ‘em too.
The Fur Trade in Canada…Let’s get those bastards, not the seals.. the bad Canucks!
The war in Iraq...terrible, terrible idea! What’s that you say, Heather? You support the war in Iraq? Yes me too. Cheers Tony Blair.. splendid job, simply splendid!

Paul and Heather Mills were married in June 2002 in a lavish ceremony at an Ireland castle. McCartney and his soon-to-be ex-wife had a daughter, Beatrice Milly, in October 2003.

Paul blamed the media for the deterioration of their marriage. Yeah, sure the media is to blame, that’s it! That’s like blaming the internet for my calloused hands, poor eye site, and unrelenting appetite for pornography. Um..bad analogy, nevermind.

Paul, don’t you think it has more to do with the fact that you are 63 and she is 38?

You have platinum albums older than her! She thinks Sgt. Pepper was that nice police officer who helped find her kitty as a child.

Paul McCartney wrote some of the greatest music and lyrics of all time. Yet he didn’t feel the need to spend a few hours to scribe a pre-nup? Paul refused claiming a pre-nup to be “unromantic”. Note to Paul – even more unromantic than a pre-nup is the full-on reaming you are about to take.. sans lubricant.

Lawyers are estimating Heather Mill’s projected share of the former Beatle’s fortune at between $188 million and $376 million. Not a bad windfall for four years of marriage! Paul was on tour for probably a year or more, so it wasn’t even a four full years of wedded bliss. Nice work Heather!

I can hear Yoko yapping now: “You grow gril!” English translation: “You go girl!” Poor John and George are turning over in their graves or just stirring in their cremation urns, and Ringo could care less and is just looking to round up some more has-beens for his “All-Star” summer tour.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Faker In The Wheelchair

I believe our society should do everything in its power to provide as much assistance as possible to the physically challenged. Whether that means ramps for buildings, extra wide stalls in rest rooms, upfront parking, I’m all for it.

What I’m not for are all the fakers out there. I can say that with certainty because I was almost became one.

They know who they are. The ass-clown who’s Cadillac Escalade cuts you off in the mall parking lot as he bangs a hard right into the handicapped spot. He then sprints halfway toward Best-Buy when realizing he didn’t hang the fake wheelchair placard on the rearview, and then sprints back. Mr. Disability just completed the 100 meters in record time without one ounce of guilt to break his stride.

Steven Hawking is then spotted fifteen minutes later leaving the store with TiVo perched on one shoulder and an H-P laser jet printer on the other…still sprinting.

To qualify for handicapped parking in most states, a driver must have a licensed physician attest that the motorist has difficulty walking, is hampered by a lung disease, uses portable oxygen, and have a visual disability or a serious heart condition. But most of the people I've seen parking in the handicapped spots don’t seem to fit any of these criteria.

The day after Thanksgiving last year, I saw this Courtney Love clone park in the handicapped spot and painfully hobble toward Toys“R”Us. Five minutes later she’s grappling on the floor with a Whitney Houston dead ringer for the last Sony X-Box. I think they were fighting for an X-Box or maybe it was a crack vile? The point is, Courtney’s leg seemed to have miraculously healed from the parking lot to the storeroom floor.

The most blatant abuse happened a few years ago during a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert. Many times at concerts; space is set aside for disabled people either at the side of the stage and sometimes toward the front. I felt a sense of sadness as they wheeled this one poor guy toward the front of the venue. He sat motionless as the fans jumped to greet Anthony Kiedis and his mates as the show opened. I thought to myself, he must have been rendered feeble via car accident, or high school football injury.

Or maybe worse, born that way! Contorted and confined to the wheelchair for his whole life. Why did this have to happen? It’s not fair! Life sucks!! How can I enjoy this concert in good conscience?

My thoughts changed by the time the Peppers got to “Give It Away”. As the wheelchair lie prone on its side this son of a bitch went from atrophy to attitude. He’s on his feet jumping up and down, arms flailing wildly while screaming “What I’ve got you’ve got to get it put it in you”… “Reeling with the feeling don’t stop continue”. He’s doing spins, splits, flips, and then has the hottest girl in the section mounted on his once non-functioning legs for a dry hump.

I went from sympathetic to the need for a cigarette and a cold shower in a matter of minutes.

I learned a lot that night. I even tried to run my own scam at the next concert I went to. I had a cane and a limp as I tried to make my way toward the stage. I thought I’d be able to count every blond nostril hair belonging to Tom Petty.

The security guard resembled Shaq, if Shaq was bigger and played better defense. With the combination of his bright yellow EVENT STAFF shirt and his black skin he resembled a school bus, and not the small one that shuttles the kids who wear helmets and finger paint all day. I’m talking full sized Blue Bird school bus.

He snorted “Where you think you goin’, biotch?” “I’m headed toward the stage” Can’t you can see I’m physically challenged”?” I snapped back. He said “You don’t look physically challenged to me!!” “Oh yeah”, I offered, “You’ve never seen me play basketball!” I don’t remember the actual flight path that sent me ten rows back. The last thing I remembered was the headlock, my feet leaving the ground, and the consistently friendly Philadelphia crowd in complete unison chanting “ASSHOLE, ASSHOLE” in my general direction.

I’ll chalk it up to life lessoned learned the hard way. I think I’ll continue to park toward the back of the mall lot it’s much safer.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Practicing Medicine

I remember as a teenager going to a new Optometrist for an eye exam. He asked me to take off my clothes. I said “Naked for an eye exam? Is this some type of third world doctorin’ I’m not familiar with?”. I said "Listen doc …THAT eye doesn’t need to be examined, he sees 20/20 and he never ever ever blinks and just really likes to be left alone in general. I’ll just keep my Underoos up high where they belong, if that’s okay chief."

Turns out he was indicted a year later for fraud. Not insurance fraud, but Leo DiCaprio ‘Catch Me If You Can’ imposter type fraud. Real good and licensed cab driver perhaps, but not a doctor. I should have known something was wrong when he ask me to read the smallest line on the periodic table of elements.

Needless to say, I’ve done my best to avoid doctors ever since.

But, I was having chest pains that seemingly got worse each week. After much spousal nagging, I reluctantly made an appointment with a Cardiologist.

Against my better judgement I met with this guy. He’s got the gut hanging over the belt, this thing is in full Dunlap mode (his gut dunlap over his belt) buttons are missing from his shirt, he’s got a belly button you could stock Nemo and friends in, and he’s scarfing down a Hostess Suzy-Q with a large-ass glass of what appeared to be chocolate milk..

He proceeded to wipe the medical chart clipboard free of crumbs with the back of his creamed-fingered hands and started firing questions at me..

Doctor: Tell me why you’re here today?
Me: I’m having chest pains and shortness of breath.

Doctor: Do you smoke?
Me: No.

Doctor: Not even weed?
Me: No.

Doctor: Not even once with the weed? Drink Alcohol?
Me: No. No.

Doctor: What are you some kind of freakin’ Mormon?
Me: No, I just like to stay in shape.

Doctor: If you were in that good of shape you wouldn’t be here with my fat ass, would you?
Me: Probably not.

Doctor: How many wives you taggin’?
Me: I said I’m not a Mormon.

Doctor: How long do you want to live?
Me: I don’t know, I was kind of hoping to make it to the ‘LOST’ season finale.

As we’re talking the phone rings..

Doctor: I have to go!
Me: What’s going on? Do you have an emergency open heart surgery or something?

Doctor: No, that was one of the nurses it’s time for our smoke break. You can leave if you want.
Me: Do you think there is anything seriously wrong with me?

Doctor: Shitloads, but I’m not a Psychologist am I? You just need to layoff the junk food and get more exercise. Do that and you’ll be good to go.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Better Think Twice Before Choking That Chicken

Fresh off the heels of the two hour debacle know as ‘Drowned’ Alive’ where magician/masochist David Blaine unsuccessfully tried to break the world record time for being submersed completely under water and appeared to come real close to being ‘Drowned’ Dead, ABC brings us another masterpiece...

"Fatal Contact: Bird Flu in America." Oh no. And you thought it was annoying when that pigeon shat on the windshield of your Hummer. Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Those winged little pricks have Osama bin Laden like intentions for us all.

A recent White House study on pandemic flu predicts a nation overtaken by "social and economic chaos" if the bird-flu virus should mutate into an influenza that can be passed from human to human and country to country.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking… this is the same White House who is still looking for both WMD’s and bin Laden, so they are probably wrong this time too. Good point, but I’m not taking any chances, their due to nail one.

The Washington Post says the report not only "assumes" as many as 2 million dead in the United States alone, but also a 40 percent rate of "workforce absenteeism."

If fact, I just called in sick this morning and emailed excerpts of this report to my boss. He can never accuse me of not being “proactive” or “ahead of the curve” anymore. Let’s talk about that yearly bonus now, biotch!

The bird flu can even be contracted thought a simple handshake. Great, just what I need another excuse not to meet new people.

And where does this bird flu come from? Where else? China. How it is the USA gives China trillions of dollars a year in trade and in return they give us the Physics professor I could never understand, everything sold in Wal-Mart, and a pandemic or two? Thanks Beijing.

Maybe SARS and Bird Flu can have a death match along the Great Wall and wipe each other out, throw in that pissed-off cow disease for the hell of it. Then Tarantino can make a movie about it all with English subtitles.

I don’t know about you, but I’m worried and even paranoid as hell about this whole thing. Just last weekend my wife said “Honey grab the digital camera. Look at that beautiful red cardinal, that bird flew from its nest and is now perched so elegantly on our fence” I said “Bird Flu!!!” I then tackled her, hosed her off, wrapped her head to toe in Saran Wrap, and carried her down to the basement.

After unwrapping her for the visual inspection and delousing, she kicked me square in the undercarriage; I mean dead nuts, literally.

I’ve been sleeping on a couch in the basement ever since. It’s just as well since my junk is still smarting something terrible. Besides, I have a nice 20” Sony TV (made in China) in the basement, so I can watch "Fatal Contact: Bird Flu in America" and slip into even deeper paranoia.

Thanks ABC. Couldn’t you just show another two hours of ‘Lost’ reruns instead?

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Long Island Train Wreck

This week Entertainment Tonight is featuring a reunion of Amy Fisher and Joey Buttafuoco. They are just two crazy kids formerly in love. That sentence went about four words too long.

A quick recap for anyone who still cares… Back in '92 - Amy Fisher; Long Island teenager goes to pick-up daddy’s car at a Joey Buttafuoco’s body shop. In addition to the body work, she’s given a complete inspection, tune-up, tire rotation, and lube job . Oh yeah, there was also a sexual relationship.

Joey just wanted to hit it and quit it, but Amy fell in love. One major plot point that can’t be omitted: Joey was married and 35, Amy was 16 and a kid. I hate when that happens. Where’s Megan’s Law when you need it?

Amy hatches a plan to rid Joey of the ‘ole ball in chain, that would be Mary Jo Buttaface, I mean Buttafuoco. She thinks by rubbing out Mary Jo, Joey and her will be together and live happily ever after. This theory is problematic on two fronts: a) Amy is no Annie Oakley b) Joey is smacking stupids with every skank on Long Island.

Amy Oakley shoots Mary Jo point blank in the side of the face; she’s left for dead, but thankfully survives. Mary Jo is left to deal with small children, a cheating husband, the inability to whistle, and a hybrid facial affectation that resembles both Sly Stallone and Kirk Douglas.

Life is not fair.

As you would expect these two ex-cons hate each other. We the viewers are treated to the following riveting intellectual repartee delivered in a most grating Tony and Carmela New York accent:

Amy: You stole my childhood
Joey: You shot my wife

Joey, at minute 25 of his 15 minutes is desperate to keep what ever warped sense of celebrity he believes he still has. He moved to LA years ago to try acting; he’s actually been in a few things (jail, rehab, etc). He has his SAG card and a sagging body. I would say he is a starving actor but his 52” waist and multiple chins prove me wrong.

Amy, on the other hand is real hot. She has long dark brown hair, pretty big brown eyes. Nice set of … before I go any further.. She is legal now right? Okay. Her body looks good through the anchor woman power suit they had her in. I’d say she is at least a 36C. Joey appears to be sporting double Ds so he’s got her beat there.

Amy claims she is just doing the reunion for closure, “I just want closure”. Closure is something Mary Jo should have used when she saw your ‘80’s poodle hair head knocking at her door.

Joey is just in it for the money and to get the phone number of that sweet nineteen year old E.T. production assistant named Lisa with the unbelievable ass.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Before They Make Me Rum

Keith Richards suffered a concussion while falling from a coconut tree in Fiji’s exclusive Wakaya Club. Keith Richards is a billionaire. Couldn’t he just pay someone to get all shit-faced and pick the coconuts for him.

How much rum did Skeletor actually think were in the coconuts to convince him to go all Tarzan?

Just for shits and giggles and after the coconut incident, Keef then jumps on a Jet-Ski and wipes out suffering more cranial trauma. With all due respect, he needs another blow to the head as much as Joan Rivers needs another facelift.

I remember seeing videotape of Keith and Ozzy Osbourne in deep conversation a few years back… there hasn’t been that much mangled English since the Revolutionary War.

While the band has not confirmed the palm tree or Jet Ski stories, it has confirmed Richards was hurt and hospitalized.

"Earlier this week, [Richards] suffered a mild concussion while on holiday in Fiji," a spokesperson for the rocker and the band said in a statement Monday on the Stones' official Website.

Keith was admitted to Ascot Hospital in Auckland, New Zealand, about the closest major landmass to Fiji. Apparently Fiji has no adequate medical facilities.. just witch doctors sticking needles in hand crafted dolls while casting spells on whitey.

New Zealand's TV3 showed Richards' wife and crew taking bags and three guitars into the facility, observing that it looked "like the veteran rocker was in for a long stay."

His fluids are good, he's receiving 50ccs of Rebel Yell Scotch every hour or so through an IV tube.

If forty-five years of drugs, booze, cigarettes, unprotected sex, and a bitchy Mick Jagger haven’t been able to kill Keith, he will be damned if a coconut or a Jet-Ski send him for the big dirt nap.

I’m just glad to hear that his liver didn’t suffer any damage during his stay in Fiji.