My Condolences on Your Graduation

I won’t congratulate you now that you’ve graduated from college but I will offer my condolences. You are about to enter a long slow agonizing death known as the working world. Sure you’ve heard all those pep talks from career guidance counselors at school telling you how bright your future is. They tell you to find something you love to do and it won’t seem like work. That’s great except no one is willing to pay you to play video games.

In your career you will encounter everything just the opposite of what you experienced in college.

For example during school, friends were easily made, you would meet in a common class, bitch about the professor, alternate between who would cut class and who would take notes. Then on the weekends and sometimes during the week you would party together. Come Monday the whole game would start again. Contrast this with the working world where you are the new guy and nobody easily accepts or associates with the new guy. And never try to join in the fun when it comes to bitching about the boss. Any new guy who bitches about the boss; who everyone hates, will be further shunned. You were the guy who downloaded the most MP3s and the best porn in your dorm and were praised heavily for it by those around you. Trust me, you don’t want to be that same guy when you are parked in that cubicle over in the industrial park, it doesn’t carry the same status as it did in college, especially with the lady co-workers.

Speaking of the ladies, remember how easy it was to hook-up in college? Forget it now. The corporate world is so politically correct you may be accused for sexual harassment if you ask out that hottie in marketing more than once. If she says no the first time, move on. Or just approach the fat chick in accounts receivable, she won't run to Human Resources in tears and believe me the sex will be much better.

In college it’s not only socially acceptable to be the biggest partier, but a coveted honor many people try to achieve. In the working world, the biggest partier is usually has to publicly apologize for things he or she doesn’t remember saying or doing to their very embarrassed sober co-workers. This mea culpa is followed by a not too well disguised trip to a company sponsored re-hab. During college it is an accepted practice to show up late to class should you decide to show-up at all. The professor doesn’t really care if you make it or not, it’s just one less pain-in-the ass he has to deal with during the lecture. At work it’s never acceptable to show-up late or miss days. In fact you are considered a clock-watcher should you work less than ten hours a day.

What I’ve mentioned in the previous paragraphs presupposes you are lucky enough to find a job, and that’s not a given. Besides, there is no sense in hurrying to find a job, because the job you’ll eventually get will be there whenever you want it. McDonald’s, Wendy’s and Costco are always hiring. Go off and travel the country and party some more. Go to an island, or take a train through Europe. Whatever GPA you earned doesn’t really matter now. The price of oil is rising faster than your GPA and the US dollar is weaker than your GPA. I know the payments on your student loans are due soon, but they can wait. If you can’t pay the bare monthly minimum just ask the government to help you out. Look at what they did for the airlines and sub-prime loan suckers. They can help you out with that hundred grand you owe, you just need to ask nicely. You can’t get blood from a stone right?

So let me offer my condolences on your graduation once again, and offer one final piece of advice…..go back to school for your Masters and give yourself a stay of execution.

Over at the Walgreens

I walked into the Walgreens to buy a small tube of moisturizer for my sandpaper-like parched dry face. I also bought an anniversary card for my wife, and a Vitamin Water. The following conversation occurred with the cashier (a guy, early twenties crew cut, many tattoos, a couple on his neck as I placed the tube of moisturizer on the counter to start paying for my items….

CASHIER: (Laughing as he sees me place the small tube on the counter). “I think I know what you are doing with this !”

ME: “What’s that?”

CASHIER: (Still Laughing) “Travel size easy to conceal…. “Are you going on a trip? Or just rubbin’ a quick one out in the car?”

ME: (Embarrassed looking left to right) “It’s for my face, I have very dry skin”

CASHIER: “I just use hand soap myself”

ME: (Pushing the anniversary card and the Vitamin Water), “Look at this card, do you see what it is?”

CASHIER: “Okay”

ME: “It’s an anniversary card…I’m married ten years this Saturday”

CASHIER: “You have been married ten years…to the same woman?”

ME: “Yes”

CASHIER: “Same woman for ten years?”

ME: “Yeah asshole same woman! , I’m not a fuckin’ Mormon”

CASHIER: “You getting’ any strange on the side?”

ME: “Just ring me out already dickhead!”

CASHIER “Ten years, same pussy, now I know you are using this for beat-off cream!!”

ME: “That nobody’s business but mine….and my right hand”

Let’s Hope Jimmy Fallon won’t be Failin’

The worst kept secret finally saw the official light of day , or in this case light of night, late night. NBC held a press conference to announce Jimmy Fallon will replace Conan O’Brien when Conan takes over ‘The Tonight Show’ from Jay Leno next year. Will it work out? Who knows? Saturday Night Live alumnus have had three shots at late night. Chevy Chase, a horrible failure, Dennis Miller, a late-night network TV failure, but rallied back with a respectable HBO show, and Conan O’Brien, a late-night success

A relative unknown SNL writer with little to no on camera experience O’Brien’s first few months were shaky at best. NBC considered pulling the plug, but wisely didn’t. Conan found his goofy grove and began to crank out the kind of nerdy-quirky late night fare that made Letterman a star with stoner college kids across America in the 80’s. I think Jimmy Fallon will fit that role nicely, since he seems to still be that quirky college kid that other quirky college kids will be able to relate to. Unlike Conan, he has a performance background, which means he should hit the ground running with sketches and impressions.

Jimmy Fallon shouldn't sweat the inteviewing part either. The most over criticized part of a talk show is the hosts interviewing skills. The critics constantly praise Letterman and pan Leno for their abilities to handle guests. Most Hollywood types are windbags who love to talk about themselves constantly. Just throw out a sentence and let them go, the host need not be the star of the interview, just let the guest ramble on with a fabricated story about how their precocious five-year sneaked away from the nanny, the housekeeper, the gardener, and the poolboy, then jumped into the driver side of the blue Lamborghini and took it for a quick run down Mulholland Drive. Thankfully no one was hurt. After the host fakes a hearty belly laugh, he pulls it together to ask the guest to set-up the clip from his latest inane project.

When it comes to interviewing, less is best. Why do you think Letterman and Leno always want to have Robin Williams on. They ask him how he’s been and he goes all retard for the next twenty minutes, no follow-up questions needed. They just have to restrain him long enough to break for commercials.

Fallon needs to make sure the monologue is tight. Most late night shows have ten to twenty writers each, they should be able to nail the monologue every night, but they don't. Leno used to have a top-notch monologue when he first started, but now it’s always the lowest common denominator stuff. You can see the punch lines from a mile away. He’s dumbed it down for the average American, and it works in terms of ratings. He also goes too long with the monologue. He will have two to three really funny, really clever lines a night, and the rest is just filler. If he cut down the monologue by say 30% the whole thing would seem much sharper.

Letterman’s monologue isn’t any better, but he is smart enough to keep it short. I think Conan’s is even shorter than Lettermans. Jimmy Kimmel has the right idea, a few jokes interspersed with clips from TV shows that he comments on. Leno has stolen this format from Kimmel in the last year or so.

It will be interesting to see how this all shakes out two years from now. Leno has lead Letterman in the late night ratings for over a decade. Even when his writers were still on strike and Letterman’s were back to work, he beat Letterman.

There will be a bidding war going on for Leno services once he parts company with NBC since he generates a billion dollars in ad revenue a year. The most likely bet would be ABC, where Leno will own on his show and have input on what goes on after him, much in the same way Letterman does now. I see Leno doing five years on ABC with Kimmel pushed back to follow him at 12:30.

Is anyone going to miss anything about Nightline, besides that MILF Cynthia McFadden? Once Leno finally retires Kimmel will take over at 11:30. On CBS , the future isn’t so clear to me. Who knows how long Letterman will go? I guess it depends on his health. I see him going at least five more. Craig Ferguson is making inroads at 12:30, he’s ever beaten Conan a few times. But, I’m not sure he is the air apparent to Letterman.. To me, Steven Colbert is a perfect fit when Letterman goes.

Stayed tuned.

There Will Be Cheney

In the movie “There Will Be Blood”, Daniel Day-Lewis plays a ruthless prospector willing to do anything or hurt anyone to find oil.. It’s loosely based on the life and times of Dick Cheney….Just kidding, it’s not loosely based at all. Every time I pull into a gas station I think about that ruthless prospector willing to hurt anyone for oil, and I also think about Daniel Day-Lewis; he was great in “Gangs of New York”

By the summer, gas will be $4 per gallon for regular unleaded, and in some places (LA and San Francisco) it’s already there. You can cancel that cross-country drive to visit the grandparents. Don't worry they’ll understand; you can see them in five years when we are all driving hybrids and the diminished oil demand forces Exxon and Mobile to drop prices. Of course, your grandparents will probably be dead by then, and then you can just fly to the funeral, if you can afford the airline tickets, with rising jet fuel costs and all. Thankfully hybrid airplanes aren’t on the radar, and let’s hope they never will be. Flying is scary enough as it is.

I need to take out a second mortgage loan to fill my Lincoln Navigator. Okay I don’t have a Lincoln Navigator, I have a Kia Sportage, so I have a small-business loan and my credit is not what you’d call outstanding. The only thing outstanding about my credit is the collector; he’s out standing by my front door looking to collect cash I don’t have.

I now bring a cup to the gas station to capture those precious droplets of petroleum piss residue that I would normally fling off the foreskin of the pump. Each drop is worth at least a quarter. I funnel those drops right back into the tank. If my tank is full, I sell the excess in a yard sale for thousands of times it's value, just like those duplicitous terrorists who run OPEC.

There is so much talk about “going green”. I think much of it is just a load of shit. In reality, some of it is shit; cow manure to be precise. It’s being used as an alternative energy source. Try filling up on that the next time it’s your turn to drive the carpool ballbusters to work:

“Holy shit, which one of you jerk-offs busted ass??”
“No, guys let me tell you I just filled up on a green alternative to oil ….get this, it’s manure, ya know cow shit.”
“BULLSHIT”
“No cow shit”
“You are fuckin’ with us right??”
“NO”
“Nobody would be dumb enough to put shit in their tank, not even you!”
“You have to be fuckin’ with us, that’s a good one you almost had us you son-of-a-bitch, you really did”
“Yeah, yeah I am just messin' wtih you guys, Bob what the fuck did you eat for breakfast a broccoli burrito? Don’t be stinkin’ up my car like that you vile bastard!!”

Let’s face it nobody has the stones to be the trailblazer when it comes to alternative energy. Even that turbine powered wind bag Al Gore. It turns out Mr. Greengenes is sparking as many BTU’s at his place in Tennessee as the West Wing of the White House.

We’ll all keep bitching about the rising gas prices and not do a thing about it. There will be more Hummers, Navigators, Tahoes, and Escalades sold this year. No one is peddling, walking, jogging, or taking the bus to work for that matter.

It won’t be until your monthly gas payment rises above your monthly car payment that you will be forced to take drastic action. But since most of us have car payments that look like mortgage payments, it will take a year or two for that to happen.

And when it does watch out!! There will be so many hitchhikers on the roads of America’s it will resemble the New York Thruway in August of 1969 in the days leading up to Woodstock.

Hillary Clinton Won't Leave Us Alone!!

BARACK OBAMA: Mr. President, with all due respect it’s time for you to tell your wife to drop out already.

BILL CLINTON: Believe me Barack I tried to talk to her but I can’t even find her. I have no clue where she is.

OBAMA: I think she’s here in West Virginia. I heard her phone go off, the ringtone is “Coal Miner’s Daughter” from Loretta Lynn.

CLINTON: She’ll do anything for votes. She’s a desperate woman. She might even have sex with a relative to get votes in West Virginia.

OBAMA: What can I do get to her to stay away from me?

CLINTON: Try getting caught receiving oral from an intern that should do the trick.

OBAMA: Seriously Mr. President for the sake of the Democratic party you have to get her off my back.

CLINTON: Just be thankful she’s only on your back. Believe me, having her on your front ain’t no picnic either.

OBAMA: There is no way she can win the nomination. She needs to do the math and realize she’s wasting everyone’s time.

CLINTON: Look Barack, the only math I’m doing during these days are 2 hotties and 1 me while Hillary is out on the road campaigning. As soon as old piano legs drops out of the race, she’ll be back home checking how much I’ve done from her honey-do list. The longer she runs against you, the more time I have to avoid cleaning out the garage.

OBAMA: I have a real chance of being the first black President of America, and your wife is making it hard on me.

CLINTON: Correction, you mean second black President, the first was me. And if my wife is making anything hard on you, you must be really, really, really, seriously horny.

OBAMA: When do think she’ll drop out?

CLINTON: She is a very resilient woman, she doesn’t take no for answer. Except when I want sex, then NO is the only answer.

OBAMA: How can I make this happen sooner than later?

CLINTON: Have you decided on a running mate?

OBAMA: We have a short list, but we are not prepared to make a decision yet.

CLINTON: Obama/Clinton sounds like a winning ticket come November!

OBAMA: Sir, I have to be totally honest here, I can't stand your wife and would never ask her to be my running mate.

CLINTON: I can’t stand her either, but who’s talking about her? I MEANT ME AND YOU KID. What a ticket we’d be!! Man I can’t wait to get back to the Whitehouse. We are going to have a blast Barack!!

OBAMA: Mr. President I have to go now.

The Dunhill’s Year in Review Christmas Letter

It’s hard to believe that another year has come and gone. What a year 2007 was for the Dunhill family!! We’ve certainly had our share of both highlights and lowlights. As the year started our Tommy was recognized at Jefferson High as an outstanding student. He had two outstanding warrants; drugs and indecent exposure.

Officers physically removed him from 3rd period Biology taking him straight to county lock-up. Since my husband Troy was unemployable due to a Megan’s law “technicality” and I had nagging yeast problems; neither of us had jobs so we couldn’t raise the bail money necessary to spring him right away.

We were able to rent Tommy’s mattress to a border to raise enough cash for the bail. The border still owes some rent money, we tried to collect but we couldn’t grab him before he made it back over the border.

Tommy spent all of January and most of February in jail. Prison was an eye-opening experience for him, just not the eye he is used to opening. He sat on a heavily padded donut until July. He spent the rest of the year under house arrest, well really trailer arrest.

In May, Troy and I became proud grandparents when Sue-Ellen gave birth to that little bundle of joy; she named him- Toby-Keith-Tony-Stewart Dunhill. He was named after his father. Sue-Ellen just wanted to make sure she didn’t leave anyone out since she ain’t real sure who the father is exactly, but she narrowed it down as best she could.

He’s cute as button, he’s got Sue-Ellen’s nose and the eyes of one of the possible fathers. She was able to make-up the time she missed at school and graduate on time and even make it to Dean’s list at “Big Dean’s Big Rig College”. Dean said she made his list because of her shifting skills and her ability to work the rest stop. Ever since graduation she’s been haulin’ ass across the tri-state area, we are very proud of her. She may continue her studies down at Big Dean’s for her MBA (Movin’ Boxes Anywhere) and her PhD (Pullin’Heavier Deliveries). Big Dean expects to get his accreditation from the state any day now.

Troy and I baby-sit Toby-Keith-Tony-Stewart while Sue-Ellen is off climbing the big rig ladder. Just the other night the little fella’ whizzed right in Troy’s face while we he was changing him. Troy said it tasted just like ‘Ole Grand Dad’. God rest his soul.

We had a fun summer vacation down at the creek. Who the hell needs Disneyland anyway? Skinny dippin and cat fishin all day, illegal low grade fireworks at night. Troy tried to make it feel like Disneyland for me, Once the kids were asleep he would get all drunked up, strip naked and sing “It’s a Small World After All” outside the tent with his flashlight while toasting marshmallows from a hickory stick wedged in his buttocks.

He is so darned romantic!

Jackson turned nine in September and is the star of his Pop Warner football team. He was a star linebacker, but this year he also plays fullback and made the all-star team at both positions. I still remember at summer practices in August when Coach Everett told Troy he wanted Jackson to “go both ways” this season. Troy punched Coach in the teeth and called him a homo!

Jackson is also the star of his basketball, baseball, and rastlin teams. We really think he is going to make it in professional sports so we don’t think he needs to waste time on things like school. He is being home-schooled, but not by us. We found a good teacher he really likes. Her name is Anita Johnson; she is a pre-op transsexual awaiting a donor transplant. We all really love her; she is like a part of our family. She will teach Jackson until they find a donor, then she’s off to California for the operation. With recovery time and all, we don’t think she will be teaching for awhile. So, basically once she gets a member, it’s like we lose a member of our family and Jackson looses his teacher.

In October, all charges were dismissed against Troy. He went back to work as a pizza maker over at Chuck-E-Cheese. In November, the FDA approved an experimental antibiotic for my yeast problem. My doctor calls it ‘Breadazone’, I’ve been taking it for two months and I haven’t baked any panty muffins since. The only dough Troy gets on his hands these days is from the pizza oven at his job. Tommy is back to making real fart sounds, Sue-Ellen lost her baby weight, she is a trim 197lbs, Jackson no longer has jock itch, and the baby now has three teeth, one more than Grandma Bessie. We are all healthy and happy…finally.

As you see it’s been a busy and exciting 2007 for us Dunhill’s. Here’s wishing you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Kick-Ass Kwanzaa and a Happy New Year!!.

ALL THE BEST TO YOU ALL IN 2008!

LOVE,

TROY, BESSIE, TOMMY, SUE-ELLEN, JACKSON, and baby TOBY-KEITH-TONY-STEWART

THE DUNHILLS

The Dreaded Company Christmas Party

During any company Christmas parties this season try to accomplish the following: Try to stay sober enough not to lose your job or hearing about making a total ass out of yourself from 9-5 Monday- Friday for the foreseeable future or until they mercifully outsource your job to a low cost region.

Many promising young careers at major companies have been prematurely halted courtesy of Jagermeister. Why do you think there are so many bloggers? Sure, it seemed harmless at the time to ask your VP’s wife if she was just “thonging it” tonight or going commando, but when you went under the hood for a look-see it was clear to everyone the line had been crossed, everyone but you that is.

Eat, drink and be merry, but in moderation. If you overdo it, you may become this year’s office party casualty. You will become the guy co-workers will be unable to walk past you without snickering or whispering to each other. No, you’re not paranoid, they are still laughing about the 2003 Christmas party here in July of ‘06.

With the lethal mix of a festive mood, free unlimited booze, great food, female co-workers looking hotter than ever it’s difficult to be on your best behavior, it’s a real challenge not to get all liquored up.

But you really have to make that effort..

When the three hottest single women from the office all shoot your inebriated-ass down for dances try not to reach for the low hanging Christmas fruit by shouting “HO, HO, HO”. Just bow your head in shame and gracefully stagger back to your table refraining from the verbal altercation. And try not to body slam any of the wait staff on the way back to the table.

Avoid calling your left leg “Christmas” and right leg “New Years” and telling every woman on the dance floor to “come see me between the holidays”.

Stay away from both mistletoe and eggnog at all times.

And if you are decide to get all shit-faced have the common sense to take a few people from the office along with you so as to cushion the blow for yourself. Who knows? You mooning your whole department may not have been the worse thing that happened that night if the co-workers you drank with happen to be bigger lightweights than you. As a rule of thumb, never do shots alone.

See, normally you hate Meredith; the know it all CPA. She is a total bitch to you and everyone else, but tonight you were smart enough make nice for Christmas and ask her to pound beers and chase shots with you. You kindest paid off. I guess they are right when they say it’s better to give than receive….

“Sure, we all saw your hairy hemorrhoid laden-ass but that was nothing. But when Meredith from Accounts Payable danced on the bar and pulled her double-D’s out , that was freaking unbelievable!!” “They were awesome!” “I love working here, I want to be full-time!!!”

You were drunk and stupid, but she was drunker and more stupid. Nobody remembers you now after Meredith pulled out her emersons. It’s like the governor called and granted your very own stay of execution.

I’ve seen it all at the office Christmas party, like the year when my ex-boss was doing his Al Pacino ‘Scarface’ impression. He was holding court in the middle of a circle of co-workers both men and women, pants at ankles barking in his best Cuban accent (which sounded Russian) “Say hello to my little friend”. Luckily for me, I was far enough away for the circle not to witness the train wreck. From what some of the women in the office told me later he should have said “Say hello to my very, very little friend”

Sleeping with the bosses wife, insulting your director, passing out underneath the table are all things that can be real fun, but there is a time and place for everything. Just don’t be stupid enough to do any of these things at your company’s holiday party and you will be just fine.

Carson Daly- If nobody watches can it still be considered TV?

Carson Daly scabbed his way to back to his studio last week in Burbank to resume production on his late night TV show. Carson Daly is not a member of the WGA, so he is not a “scab” in the strictest sense of the word. But with or without a union card he is still a no-talent douche that much is clear. He is such a major wit and strong performer that he solicited “jokes” from his friends and family through a douche-chilly email…

“Hello, So at some point during my first week on the air, I will be mentioning the devastating writers strike and saying something to the effect that a TON of my friends and family, have been calling me, leaving messages, offering their help with jokes because they know I don’t have any writers and hosting a late night show without them will be nearly impossible for me.”

I’ve had the misfortune of suffering from insomnia about a year ago and I actually watched this show a couple of times. The first night was horrible, I though perhaps it was a bad night for Carson, so I gave him another chance the next night. The second night was even worse than the first. He has the stage presence of the propped up cadaver, his delivery is horrible, and the comedic material was mediocre at best. But maybe with a skilled host the material might shine a little brighter. Carson Daly could have the writers from The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and Late Night with Conan O’Brien and still not be able to draw laughs from a crowd. Just because Mario Batali gives me his best recipe for Mussels Marinara doesn’t mean I’m not going to totally fuck it up!!

Carson’s ’s a mediocre DJ who luckily got an MTV gig, He then fooled NBC into thinking he was hip enough to host a light night show and draw the MTV pimple faces along with him. During his interviews he comes off more as an obsessed fan than skillful questioner.

Do you think it’s just a coincidence that Carson’s name in not even mentioned as a successor to Conan O’Brien when he takes over The Tonight Show? Jimmy Fallon will take Conan’s spot, Carson Daly didn’t even make the short list

The cry for help/jokes email to family and friends is a clear admission that he has no sense of humor. He even copies his personal doctor on the email to provide some yuks. The painful email continues as he spouts examples of the types of jokes he expects to receive from loved ones….

“It could be as simple as BEEP, Hey Cars, it’s DAD sorry bout the strike, it’s gotta be tough on ya, try this one on the show….two priests and a rabbi walk into a bar....yada, yada. Anyway my back’s really better, those pills mom got me seem to be working, bye.”

Priest and Rabbi jokes?? The early sixties just called they want their humor back. If this IS his father type of humor it’s no wonder he produced a humorless dolt like Carson. He even asked his father if his golfing buddies had any material. I’m no executive producer but, is that really the humor well you want to draw from for a late night show aimed at partying college kids, fat rich white guys playing the dog leg at the 15th hole at Pebble Beach??

The Phi Beta Kappa frat boys don’t want to hear about a prostate problem or erectile dysfunction as they're doing bong hits unless of course you provide some visuals along with the audio, but I guess that depends how stoned they are?

The only monologue your doctor is certified to handle is the one between your legs. I’d much rather see Carson solicit family and friends to host that show rather than send in jokes. Get a vibrant personality to host, then we can work on straightening out the material once the strike is over.

Thanksgiving Family Memories

Thanksgiving is a time for families to join together to celebrate and give thanks for all the good fortune experienced throughout the year. It’s also a time to drink heavily, drop all inhibitions, and say things better left unsaid...

Like all actresses my sister loves the stage, and there is no better family stage than the Thanksgiving meal. “Everyone, I have an announcement” said sis as she asked for everyone’s undivided attention. “I’m pregnant!!” she joyfully exclaimed. Pregnancy is a great thing if you are married, or not married and in a committed relationship and want to have a kid. If you are a twenty-one year old college senior with no relationship, that we know of, not so much a great thing. “I thought she was a DYKE.” Grandpa said to Grandma, still not using the hearing aid that Mom bought him last Christmas. Half the table (mostly women) scolded Grandpa. “You all heard that?” a confused Grandpa asked.

I couldn’t get on Grandpa too bad, because I had some serious doubts myself regarding sis. The mad skills at softball, the oversized Gap sweatshirts, and the Melissa Etheridge poster didn't do much to bolster her defense.

The next logical question that no one dared to ask is “Who’s the father??” Luckily, she offered an answer without us having to do the dirty work of asking.

“The father is my English professor, Dr. Walter Harris” she said. “He is not only a professor, but he is chair of the English department” she added. These facts did nothing to remove the look of absolute horror from the faces of Mom and Dad.

“He’s married with two children, but he is soon to be separated” she continued.

It was at this point that my brother interjected that Thanksgiving was the one-year anniversary of his sobriety. Technically, it was one-year and fifteen hours since his last drink. I remember this well because he crashed into the tree around 2:00 AM last Thanksgiving morning. He started at happy hour on Wednesday, and enjoyed his last drink right before that damned tree knocked it out of his hand and knocked him unconscious. The car looked much like the beer can he was holding. He suffered a concussion, a fractured pelvis, and a compound fracture of his right leg. He spent the next three months in the hospital and the six months after in jail.

“I would like everyone to stand and join me in celebrating this personal milestone” he said. “Raise your glasses and let’s toast my sobriety” he said. He proceeded to pull a fifth of Jack Daniels from under the table and knocked back two quick shots.

Mom, still stunned about my sister and now disappointed in my brother was downing her wine at a rapid fire pace, which for her means it was her second glass. To say Mom is a lightweight is a huge understatement. She is the only person I know who has ever gotten a contact buzz from being around drinkers.

“I have my own annnunce-mmment " she slurred. “My husssband and your faather is banging his ssecreteryy!” We all looked over at Dad. His head was in his hands too ashamed to look up at the rest of us. When he did look up all he could say “Your mother has had too much to drink”. Thanks Sherlock Holmes. He then went on to tell us “I got laid-off from work yesterday, so it’s going to be a lean Christmas” as he swigged right from my brother’s Jack Daniels bottle.

“Did your filthy w-w-whore get the axe too?” Mom asked.

Things calmed down for a little while as started to eat our Thanksgiving dinner. I thought about everything that was said so far. I though about how alcohol makes one talk, but food has the opposite effect and shuts everyone up. Food is a great thing. I noticed my cousin Sarah frowning at me, as I devoured my Turkey leg. “Meat is murder, meat is murder” she said. “Excuse me?” I asked. “You know I am a Vegeterian don’t you?” she said. “We were just at the Burger King drive-through together about what two weeks ago? “You had the Big Angus Burger with cheese if memory serves me!” I said. “Yeah, that seems so long ago, as of last Saturday I am Vegetarian, not just a Vegetarian I’m a Vegan. “That means no dairy products at all”. Sarah has to be about 185lbs and she made up for all the Turkey she didn’t eat by downing a whole Lemon-Meringue pie in about two minutes. I guess she is a Vegan on everyday but Thanksgiving since a shit load of eggs went into that pie, not to mention the pint of milk she used to wash it all down.

During coffee and dessert it was back to more stimulating conversation. Over in the way too much information section of the table, Grandma and Grandpa in vivid detail recalled their senior’s cruise and how liberating they found their nude beach experience.

Cousin Kenny is the normally quiet and sober member of the extended family. He doesn’t drink and he usually chooses his words carefully. He’s a good looking guy, who has always been surrounded by hot women. He tells all his date will be joining us soon for dessert. He said he wanted a chance to talk to all of us first. He told us that he is gay and he’s been waiting for a good time to come-out of the closet. He decided it would be tonight.

“He’s a QUEER too??” Grandpa whispered to Grandma for all to hear.

Always looking to one-up… Uncle George and Aunt Sheryl proudly pronounced they are now full-fledged swingers and loving every kinky minute of it.

At this point I had to get some air I said “Excuse me everyone, I am going out to the family room I want to check the score of the Redskins-Cowboys game”.

Late Night Hosts Roast Jay Leno

Since the late night talk show hosts will be off the air for awhile they decided it was as good a time as ever to roast one of their own. Letterman, Leno, O’Brien, Kimmel, and Ferguson all got together to decide who the subject would be. Everyone but Leno raised his hand when the following question was posed: “Everyone who thinks we should roast Jay Leno raise your hand”. Nobody realized Carson Daly was still on the air so he didn’t get a vote.

Since Jimmy Kimmel is a veteran Comedy Central Roast emcee, he is the host…

Kimmel: We all came here tonight to roast a comedy legend, a late night icon, and all around great guy, but Arsenio Hall couldn’t make it. He’s got the late shift at KFC this week and he had to close.

What can we say about Jay Leno that hasn’t been said throughout the years? That he’s not a total prick? They say he looks like a skunk with that black and white head of hair. I don’t know if looks like a skunk or not, but he sure smells like shit.

Jay Leno has threatened every single person I ever tried to book on my show. He said if they do my show, they will never be able to get on his show. I wish to hell he would threaten Cousin Sal, Jeff Ross, and Adam Carolla.

Our first presenter tonight could fit most of that $31 million a year through the gap in his front teeth…Ladies and Gentleman --David Letterman

Letterman: A round of applause for Jimmy Kimmel, the last comedian in America to bang Sarah Silverman. She’s fucked more comedians than Last Comic Standing.

Jay Leno and I go way back, I put him on my show when he was a nobody. We both wanted Johnny’s job hosting The Tonight Show. I patiently hosted my NBC late show at 12:30 waiting for Johnny to retire. Jay on the other hand, kissed ass with NBC brass and trashed talked every possible candidate who was considered for the job. Leno threw more people under the bus than the NY Metro mechanic’s union. But, I make $31 mil a year and you make $27 mil a year, and Carson liked me better. I own my show, you don’t, I’m not getting the boot in 2009, but you are. But I’m not bitter or anything -- FUCK YOU JAY!

Kimmel: Glad your not bitter Dave. I can’t understand a word this next guy says. But they tell me he has a show on CBS that competes with my show. I sure hope it’s broadcasted with subtitles, or maybe I don’t. Here is Craig Ferguson

Ferguson: Thanks Jimmy Kimmel. One week Jimmy flew to back and forth from LA to NY each day to do Regis and Kelly…..I guess you could say he’s a bi-coastal bi-sexual.

As many might know, I replaced Craig Kilborn on The Late Late Show on CBS. I just saw Craig and he’s doing fine. In fact he was driving a 2007 Rolls-Royce Phantom….it was Leno’s he was Valet parking it tonight.

Dave Letterman was kind enough to allow me to get the job I now have. All I had to do was capture his latest stalker and make sure she was deported. It was easy, I just gave my sister airfare back to Scotland.

Jay Leno gave me one good piece of advice when I started this job. It was “Stay away from my fucking guests or I’ll send you back to Scotland without your kilt. Do you understand me?” I always appreciated the kind words Jay.

I try to pattern my show after Jay’s show, except with comedy. Jay Leno’s monologues are as fresh as Oprah’s panties after a day of taping ten consecutive shows without a bathroom break. His non-rehearsed banter with band leader Kevin Eubanks sets race relations back fifty-years. We get it, the black musician smokes weed. Way to work the stereotypes Jay! This is the part where I’m supposed to say something nice about you. Okay, you have a great guest rolodex. Can I borrow it when you get fired in 2009?

Kimmel: I still didn’t understand a word. This next guy is so white and thin the electricians tried to replace a burned-out fluorescent bulb in the studio with him. Put your hands together for the reason Jay Leno will be collecting unemployment next year….Conan O’Brien.

O’Brien: Thanks Jimmy, I hate to be the one to tell you the bad news, but they just deported Guillermo, and Uncle Frank had a heart attack fighting off the immigration officers. Just kidding, but seriously I did tea bag Sarah Silverman once, true story.

I see Carson Daly out in the audience tonight. Like the rest of us, Carson has free time because his writers on are strike and his show is dark. That’s amazing. Not the fact that he’s here tonight, but that piece of shit show actually has writers. Steven Hawking has more charisma than Carson Daly.

They say Jay Leno is unfriendly, humorless, vindictive, insecure, and a bad interviewer. I say that’s bullshit…he’s friendly.

When I was going to leave NBC and go to FOX they made the decision that I’d replace Jay in 2009. Soon after Jay called me…..every expletive he could think of. He tried everything to get me to leave NBC, he said he would give me any of his beloved two-hundred cars, except the 1986 Hyundai, that’s where he and his wife Mavis first made love. When Jay introduced me to Mavis, I thought he married Al Franken. Yikes, now I know why he works so damned much.

But really Jay, you’ve never supported me, you’ve never said a kind word about me, and soon I’ll have your job. So good luck to you….you prick!

Kimmel: Middle America loves him, but we all hate him. The reason we’re all here tonight… Ladies and Gentlemen Mr. Jay Leno

Leno: I really need to thank Jimmy Kimmel. Not for hosting the roast tonight, but for replacing me as the ugliest host on late night TV. That’s one gig I don’t mind losing believe me.

Jimmy Kimmel is as important to the late-night TV landscape as Matt Lauer.

So many late-night talk show hosts are here tonight it’s really quite amazing. I had sort of a good news bad news thing happen to me last night at the hotel. The good news…All the hosts chipped-in and sent a blonde dancing stripper to my room for a lap dance…. The bad news is it was Ellen DeGeneres… She took everything off but the Converse low tops.

Craig Ferguson. You used to be on a top-ten primetime show; The Drew Carey Show. Now you are on at 12:30 at night and no one watches you. Nice downward career move there Scotty!! By the way Letterman’s Proctologist called, he said during Dave’s exam he noticed you had an ear infection. You might want to get that checked out.

Conan O’Brien. How is that I get treated like the red-headed step child by NBC and you take my job? Just so you know, I’m taking all the good furniture, and the stuff I leave will be covered with more DNA than the UCLA Forensics laboratory.

David Letterman. True, you do make a few million more, and you do own your own show, and Johnny probably liked you better than me. But Johnny’s dead and I’ve beaten you every night in the ratings for the last ten years much like the LAPD beat Rodney King. So, can’t we all just get along?

But if not, all of you losers can kiss my rich soon to be retired ass!!

Confessions 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”

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. 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, Leo DeCaprio Catch Me If You Can imposter type fraud. Real good and licensed cab driver I’m sure, 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 seem to get worse each week. After much spousal nagging, I reluctantly made an appointment with a Cardiologist.

I met 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 wiped the medical chart clipboard free of crumbs with the back of his creamed-fingered hands and started firing questions..

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.

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

Doctor: If you were in good 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 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: Did you think there is anything seriously wrong with me?

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

As we are talking the phone rings. He gets up real quick and says “I have to go. I said what’s going on doc and emergency open heart surgery. He said no “That was one of the nurses it’s time for our smoke break”. He told to put my shirt on, I could leave, I just needed more exercise and lay off the junk food I’d be fine.

War Protester get’s in Condi’s Face

WAR PROTESTER: You have blood on your hands for all the soldiers, and innocent Iraqis dying each day because of this unjust and horrific war!! War is not the answer, War is not the answer

CONDOLEEZA RICE: Oh no you didn't!! I know you just didn't get your stringy-ass white head all up in my grill. Ya'll need to back the fuck up before I start a war all up in 'dat ass!!"

Marriage is...

a HAPPY, PARTNERSHIP, between two LOVING people lasting a LIFETIME….

Hell on earth
Another person you now hate
Promiscuity days missed
Punishment like no other
You wishing you never met her

Please make her stop bitching
Always on the rag
Run don’t walk if you have a chance
Twice the weight she was then
Never make the mistake of asking for sex
Expect everything to be your fault
Regret buying that ring
Single people are so smart
Hurts your pride every chance she gets
Insults directed toward you hourly
Puts herself before everyone else

Lost your money paying her credit cards
Other women can’t be this annoying
Vagina is permanently off limits
In the right light she doesn’t look so fat
Nothing you say is right
Gives great head…ache

Liquored up most days
Inactive sexually
First in line at the buffet table
Expect misery until the divorce
Totally out of her mind
Idiot, what were you thinking?
Mother-in-law thinks you are the problem
Excited seeing her leave the house

Cars, Restaurants, Bars, and Lies Part III

Fast forward a month and a half- Morgan and I are on our first official date. She is staying with a friend from college who lives about a half-hour from my apartment. I went to pick her up and I met the friend. Another friend, another hottie! She wasn’t in Morgan’s class, but her level of hotness was the same as the friend on the ski trip that Bobby hooked-up with it. The apartment looked like it was decorated by a ten-year old girl. Lots of pink and ruffles, and that’s just the living room. I imagined the bedroom contained many stuffed animals and New Kids on the Block Posters. “Hi I’m Candy” she said bubbly. “Candy? Isn’t that sweet” I said jokingly, which drew blank stares from both Morgan and Candy.

I walked to the passenger side of my Mercedes (for the night) and opened the door for Morgan. She said “Wow, this is really nice” I couldn’t tell if she meant the car itself or the fact that I opened he door for her. I was hoping for the latter since the car wasn’t mine in the first place. If she was truly impressed with the door opening gesture this time, surely see will be equally impressed for our next date too. If she was impressed solely by the car and not by the gesture, she is really going to disappointed when I pick her up for the next date….in my 1988 Hyundai Excel

On the drive to the restaurant Morgan talked how about close her and Candy were and how they were in the same sorority in college….. (Delta, Gamma , Swiiing-I thought to myself.) She said Candy is like her sister they are so close. Then she went on to properly list everything about Candy that she truly despised. It is comforting to know they are the best of friends, I could only imagine the verbal beat-down if they were just acquaintances. This in-depth chronologic critique took us right up to the front of the restaurant.

The place where all my problems began…

At this point I should drill deeper about the Mercedes not being mine and all. After all the shit I talked about my three houses, my hedge funds, and my movie project I had to enlist some wheels that would scream “success”. Nothing against Hyundai here, but it only screams “just getting by…barely”. The Mercedes E-class belongs to my brother-in-law; Derek. To say the E-class is the only class he has is no understatement, believe me. He’s a lawyer, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some people are proud to call themselves lawyers, not Derek. He prefers the term “ambulance chaser” to lawyer. That fact alone speaks volumes about the rest of his character or lack thereof. The personalized plate spells out the following: AMCHASE. I made sure to walk Morgan by the front of the car when I picked her up, just to avoid the possibility of having to explain the personalized plate. I was fully prepared to make something up about jogging with my dog in the early morning hours and how I chase him for the last ¼ mile or so. What’s one more lie on a house built entirely of lies? But, luckily I didn’t have to go there.

Since I wasn’t getting a straight answer from the valet parking attendant Morgan asked why I don’t call the police. This seems like a logical thing to do. If your car or your brother-in-laws car which you happen to be driving gets stolen, you should call the police. At this point I feel compelled to add another crucial piece of information…Besides being a ambulance chaser, Derek has another lucrative side business---drug dealer. I’m sure my sister knows but chooses to play ignorant for her own reasons. Derek has told me that my sister knows. I’ve never had the conversation with my sister but I know I should, I just never did yet. As I was driving away from Derek and my sister’s house he leaned into the window and said “Don’t get in any accidents, I have a drop-off in the trunk for tomorrow morning.” A normal person (not one constantly thinking about getting laid) would have come to his senses and gotten the hell out of the car. But, I didn’t and now the car is stolen and I can’t call the police to get it back without ruining the lives of countless people namely my sister, Derek and their two small children. You could throw me in the mix as well, and all the people Derek would undoubtedly rat-out to save his own ass. The body count will be high that’s for sure.

I’m now in the awkward position of praying to God the car is in a chop-shop somewhere far away, never to resurface. Or the valet just went out for an extended joy-ride and would pull-up any minute will everything in tact, including all trunk contents. But the latter of the two seemed to be impossibility. So confident of his employees the owner of the valet service now appeared and quickly apologized for not seeing the “intruder” enter his lot and make off with my car. He handed me his cell phone. On the other end was Sergeant Harris; who wanted to know all about the missing car….

Quick to cover my own ass, I slowly walked away from Morgan and told the officer the car isn’t mine and how I borrowed it from my brother-in-law for the night. This may have seemed an awkward answer to the officer’s question which was “Tell me the make, the model, color, and year”. “Let’s make a deal” he said. “I asked questions and you try to the best of your ability give me answers to the questions that I ask, okay chief?” he added. “Sure, sure, sorry about that, I’m just worried that my brother-in-law’s car has been stolen and how I’m going to tell him” I said. “I understand” Sergeant Harris sympathized. “Anything of personal value in the car? he asked. “Like what?” I countered. “You know money, jewelry, thing like that” he said. “Nothing of mine, I mean nothing in that car is mine, nothing” I nervously answered. “Remember our deal, answer what is asked?” he said. “I don’t know anything about dealing” I said with foot firmly lodged in mouth.

“Something just ain’t right here” he surmised as he grabbed at his chin. “Something just ain’t right”

In the following minutes I gained enough composure to not get myself locked-up for acting like a paranoid asshole. I mean I certainly had the right to act like a paranoid asshole with what was at stake. But since so much is at stake I should’ve done anything at all but act like a paranoid asshole. Paranoia is based on a fear that everyone is out to get you. These fears are mainly unfounded since nobody generally cares about you one way or another. The paranoia is really the minds way of granting self-importance. But in this case, I guess you could say I’m not paranoid at all. I’m more a clear-minded realist than I’ve ever been before in my entire life, and they all will indeed be out to get me before it’s over.

Cars, Restaurants, Bars, and Lies Part II

My experience with beautiful woman, limited as it may be, has always been they don’t do the talking. They are used to guys falling all over themselves to get to know them, so they don’t have to say much. If they stay quiet the guy will eventually say something stupid to kill any shot he had. That way the hot girl doesn’t have to be the bitch. The guy will just verbally hang himself, she’ll just walk away, he on the other hand, will realize he never had a shot in the first place. You go your way, I’ll go mine. She will tell her friends the guy was a total pig, he will tell his friends she’s a stuck-up bitch. No harm, no foul.

Keeping this principle in mind and now feeling a quick buzz, I’m thoroughly prepared to bring my verbal A game. The chances of me seeing this girl ever again are slim, so I had to bring it strong. I’m rich, (trade hedge funds) I’ve traveled the world many times over (mostly to buy art), I have two houses (East and West coasts), wait three, the one in Costa Rica still under construction. I’m producing a movie; I throw some mid-level not quite C-list actors who are attached to the project. I want to be somewhat believable. Even Bobby was blown away with my impressive stream of bullshit. He just looked at me, the way a young impressionable student would gaze at his favorite teacher; in awe, in total awe…

She then asked me “What’s a hedge fund?” That’s when I diverted her attention replying “ It’s complicated” since I don’t know a hedge fund from a hedge hog and then yelled “Who wants shots?”. Bobby and number two, me and number one, threw down a quick shot of Sambuca. Let the good times roll!

Bobby pulls me aside and offers “These girls are fuckin’ hot”. Now I know he’s not interested in the hotter of the two. Then he says “I wanna hang out with this guy with the three houses and the hedges and all”. I said “You are hanging out with him tonight, so don’t screw it up by talking too much. I’ll do most of the talking and if we play our card right we might just get laid tonight”
”They want to play us in cards?” He dumbly asked. No, you fool. Just don’t talk so much. I shot back.

“EYE-EYE CAP’N” he said happily.

Regardless of what Bobby would have you believe, neither of us closed that night. Morgan is the name of the girl I was with. I didn’t really believe that was her first name, but it is. The name “Morgan” reminds me of either a porn star or rich WASPY only child, who is waited on by a staff of domestic help. They could be one and the same. I mean Morgan could be a rich little girl who has had everything handed to her in life. But, as a teenager she rebels against her parents and heads west to the San Fernando Valley with nothing but a backpack and a million dollar trust fund and pursues a life of porn. It could happen I guess?

I made out with Morgan for awhile, we played a little grab-ass together but no clothes were shed. I left her hotel room with four things; a hard-on, blue balls and her phone number. Frustrated and happy all at once, I went back to my room and rapidly lost three of the four.

We all skied the next day and got to know each other a little better. Morgan and her friend, Lisa left to go back to Connecticut later that day. So we didn’t get to spend another night in the bar together.

Cars, Restaurants, Bars, and Lies Part I

“Sir, we can’t find your car. Are you sure you used our Valet service.” asked the man with the red vest. “Fuckin’ right I’m sure!! I wouldn’t be standing freezing my ass off if I wasn’t sure!!” I entered the parking lot in a new Mercedes E-Class, after an excellent meal, and a few choice cocktails, plenty of good conversation, now I’m stuck in a cold parking lot discussing whether or not I used the Valet service. I’m doing all this along side the hottest woman I’ve ever gone out with. One I’m sure I will never see again.

“Do you remember what the guy who parked it looked like?” he quizzed. “Is he still here?” he asked. The first question was valid, the second ridiculous. Why in the world would the guy who stole the Mercedes still be in the parking lot? Did he forget something? Like my wallet maybe.

To make matters worse, or better depending on your opinion, the car isn’t mine or wasn’t mine I should say.

I need to rewind….I was trying to impress this girl I met on a ski trip the month before. I was in Stowe, Vermont, standing at this very crowded bar waiting to buy a Heineken, when the most unbelievably beautiful girl walked up next to me, handed me a $20 dollar bill and asked if I would buy her two Gin and Tonics. I said sure as I turned around to look at her. I’m glad I said sure before I actually saw her because I became hopelessly tongue-tied once I did. A few thoughts jumped to mind, she asked for two drinks- obviously a woman this hot isn’t here alone. These drinks must be for her and the lucky guy who is with her. Or could she have an equally hot friend? No, that’s never the case, especially with a woman this hot. It’s usually the hot chick and the fat friend, that’s been my experience anyway. And I’ve been stuck with the fat friend more time than I would like to remember. Wingman my ass! Earth mover, maybe!! Could she be alone and the second drink is for me, because she saw me from across the bar and just had to get near me. That’s a good one. That’s never happened to me…ever. Not even with the fat friend. Maybe she’s alone, she’s an alcoholic and both drinks are for her? That might work in my favor. The drunker she gets, the better looking I become, the more interesting and funny I become, and she wakes up in the morning, head throbbing, not remembering a thing. Conversely, I imagine waking up right next to her, grinning ear to ear, remembering every last detail…

The closest scenario is the drink being for the friend; who was hot too. Not as hot as her, but a solid second place. One of my friends from the trip; Bobby, had already started moving in on the friend about twenty feet away from the bar. Bobby didn’t see me as he was talking to her, and he apparently did see me now talking to the other friend. This I know as fact even before he told me later. The reason I know is because Bobby is ultra-competitive about everything. If he saw me talking to the hotter of the two, he would have ruined for me by trying to join in on the conversation. He’s a real dick like that. In reality, neither of us are going to be gracing the cover of GQ anytime soon. We are both average looking guys, but just don’t tell Bobby. I figured I’d better work fast with this girl before Bobby swooped in like a Seagull and shit all over it. I grabbed a shot of SoCo to go with my Heineken and said hello to her as I hand her the two Gin and Tonics.

Top Ten Signs Your Kid Has a Bad School Bus Driver

10. Only other “kids” on school bus are Budweiser tall boys…empties
9. He likes your mailbox so much he ran it over
8. He wants kids to kick in lunch money to cover some gambling debts
7. Has the amazing ability to simultaneously piss out the bus window and drive
6. Bus bumper sticker reads: “Don’t like my driving, dial 1-800-EAT-SHIT
5. He wears suspenders but no pants
4. During latest DUI arrest told trooper he was the designated driver.. he was the only one in the car
3 Can’t stop at certain houses without violating restraining orders
2. He has 20/20 vision in the good eye, lost the other eye during Mardi Gras

And the number one sign your kid has a bad school bus driver…
1. Likes to open the bus door using only his ass

High School Subcultures- Where are they now?

The Valedictorian- He had it all: brains, looks, charisma. The sky was the limit. We thought he would breeze through Georgetown Law, clerk in DC for some political movers and shakers, become a Congressman, then Senator, then President one day. We can consider those plans dashed since he is serving fifteen to twenty years on a cocaine trafficking wrap. I guess he made the wrong contacts while down in DC?

The Band Geek- He could only get laid with band girls who nobody else wanted either; with the exception of Jill the Trombone player for obvious reasons I need not explain. He went on to major in music in college, he interned on Broadway and landed a musical director gig a few years after graduation. He went on to write, produce, and direct a few major Broadway shows and in his down time travels the world with some of the hottest actresses and models in the world.

High School Jock- So juiced up on steroids and so filled with ‘roid rage he once punched out the cafeteria lady for not giving him enough gravy for his mashed potatoes. He was an all county linebacker in those days, so he never got suspended. He received a scholarship to a big time school and found out quickly that most players were bigger and faster than him. So, he tried more heavy duty stuff like human growth hormone. His head soon began to resemble a Macy’s Day float. His ligaments and tendons began to tear underneath the chemical induced muscle mass. His football career ended in his sophomore year, his scholarship was revoked and he was sent back home; a has-been at the ripe old age of twenty.

The Weirdo- You remember that guy at the lunch table who refused to move when someone ripped a nasty stanky fart. Instead he just sat there with eyes closed, taking deep inhales while saying “My complements to the chef”. He always had the creepiest porn collection of any kid in school. The kind no one wanted to look at, even his fellow weirdos. He was just arrested for the second time on NBC Dateline’s To Catch a Predator.

The Beauty Queen- When she was seventeen she had an ass that wouldn’t quit, now at thirty-four with five kids she has an ass won’t end. She wouldn’t look your way in high school, now she looks at you right in the eye as she’s working the cashier line at Wal-Mart. She asks if you went to high school together, as you quickly try to rewind the high school fat girl index in your mind. She tells you her name and your mouth drops the way it would if you were told a loved one died suddenly. You fight with all your inner strength not to blurt out “What the hell happened to you”.

The Motor Head- We all thought he was wasting his time cutting class to work on his car and other people’s cars. The only classes he never cut were the shop classes. I once saw him change the oil on his ’69 Pontiac Firebird in five minutes between classes. He is now the crew chief for a major NASCAR driver.

The Class Clown- He used to tell bad jokes and makes inappropriate comments at the worst possible times back in school. He was suspended for sexual harassment of a teacher not a student. Talk about irony, he is now a Director of Human Resources for a Fortune 500 company. He has co-authored a book about diversity and sexual harassment in the workplace.

The Nerd- He was able to solve any PC problem in class. He usually gave the computer science teachers easier alternate methods for teaching certain theories . He hacked into the high school mainframe and gave all of us our graduation grades two weeks before graduation. After graduation he hacked the mainframe again, this time pulling all of the teacher’s salaries and anonymously e-emailing to all, starting a civil war among teachers that still exists today. He went on to start two internet companies in the late ‘90’s and was smart enough to sell his shares before the bottom fell out. He netted somewhere in the neighborhood of $50mil. depending on who you ask. He retired to the Caribbean and emails us all frequently; it’s usually photos - himself surrounded by hotties on either side.

Analyzing Republican Senator Craig

Conservative Senator Larry Craig was arrested at a Minnesota airport in June after he allegedly appeared to be attempting to engage in gay acts in the bathroom. He pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor disorderly conduct charge. He is in big time denial, as this excerpted speech indicates. I will analyze, okay bad choice of words, I mean I will critique his speech...

SENATOR CRAIG: Thank you all very much for coming out today. (the only one coming out should be you) I will read a statement. (oh boy here we go)

First, please let me apologize to my family, friends and staff and fellow Idahoans for the cloud placed over Idaho. (looking for sex in a men’s room? Idaho?. No, you da ho’)
I did nothing wrong at the Minneapolis airport. (except for getting arrested) I did nothing wrong, (keep telling yourself this) and I regret the decision to plead guilty and the sadness that decision has brought on my wife, my family, friends, staff and fellow Idahoans. And for that, I apologize.

In June, I overreacted and made a poor decision. (ya think?) While I was not involved in any inappropriate conduct at the Minneapolis airport or anywhere else, I chose to plead guilty to a lesser charge in hopes of making it go away. (I guess you could say you wanted to put it all behind you.. so to speak?), I did not seek any counsel either from an attorney, staff, friends or family. (you want to quit mentioning your staff, that’s what go you in this mess in the first place) That was a mistake and I deeply regret it.

Because of that, I have now retained counsel, and I am asking counsel to review this matter and to advise me on how to proceed. (sounds like you are not going to take this lying down, bent over maybe?)

For a moment, I want to put my state of mind into context on June 11th. (horny, very horny)
For eight months leading up to June 11th my family and I had been relentlessly and viciously harassed by the Idaho Statesman. (is the Idaho Statesman like one of the Village People?) If you saw the article today, you know why.

Let me be clear: I am not gay. I never have been gay. (Let me be queer. I am gay. I’ve always been gay.)

In pleading guilty, I overreacted in Minneapolis because of the stress the Idaho Statesman investigation and the rumors it has fueled all around Idaho. Again, that overreaction was a mistake and I apologize for my judgment.Furthermore, I should not have kept this arrest to myself, and I should have told my family and my friends about it. (Friends, family gather round, sure bring the kids, I got this cute little story about a men’s room, it’s really, really funny…)

I wasn't eager to share this failure, but I should have anyway, because I am not gay. (but my boyfriend is) Next month, I will announce, as planned, as many of you have already been told, whether or not I will seek reelection. (not a chance he runs)

As an elected official, I fully realize that my life is open for public criticism and scrutiny, and I take full responsibility for a lapse in judgment I made in attempting to handle this matter myself. (a lapse in judgment is missing a Senate meeting to golf, or taking a kickback from a constituent or two, looking for sex in a men’s room isn’t a lapse of judgment unless of course you didn’t bring a condom)