Is it 2007 Yet?

Hello kiddies ... I hope this message finds you doing well and recovering from the Christmas bloat. Christmas was good and relaxing. The kids had a great time and Santa was generous enough to leave me a dead bird on my front porch. I guess he couldn't make his way in because I don't have a chimney, so he decided to leave the pear tree-less partidge on the stairs outside of my front door. Either that, or it's some sort of subliminal mob gesture. In either event, I'm flattered that someone would be so thoughtful to get me the gift that no one else thought of. Well done.

Merry (Early) Christmas

Knowing my propensity for posting stuff on a timely basis and the likelihood that I will be offline this weekend, I wanted to wish everyone a happy holiday season.

My old roommate in Denver was Australian, so I found this skit involving Hugh Jackman and the "Christmas Kangaroo" particularly humorous. Plus, Will Ferrell is great. So if this video doesn't amuse you, then there it's not me, it's you.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Best Regards,

David James

The Fruitcake Lady

Despite being the season for lackadaisical work efforts, my employer is actually pressuring me to work. How novel is that?

So you know that that means. It's time, yet again, to pass off a three minute YouTube video as interesting content. Shhh, let's hope they don't notice.

I understand that the "Fruitcake Lady" appears on the Tonight Show, although I would have no idea as I haven't watched it since I was nine. But she's pretty funny nonetheless. My favorite quote occurs around minute 2:47. Enjoy. I'll try to have something new and/or interesting tomorrow.

New Laptop: Day 2

Dear IT Department:

Thank you for your timely response to my trouble ticket. Okay, I have to admit it that you haven't actually contacted me for 2 days -- let alone fixed my problems. But I thought that by thanking you in advance, you would actually be kind enough and respond to my cry for help. I hoped that kindness and patience would prevail over rage and threats of bodily injury.

Anyway, if I were to ask Santa Claus for one gift this year (other than the previously-requested world peace and Scarlett Johansson's virginity), it would be that one of your fine technicians would actually respond to my open trouble ticket and help me walk through the configuration of my new work laptop.

Don't get me wrong, I am honored that my company would actually spend $450 on a new Dell laptop. I'd like to think that you responded quickly to my complaint that I could no longer read the screen on my current Etch-O-Sketch laptop. In reality, it was probably the email rant where I noted that I was going blind from trying to read contracts on a goddammned pixilated screen. But that's water under the bridge now. My vision is returning to normal and I now have the fancy, newish (read: refurbished) laptop to use.

Well, at least use in theory. You see, it's not quite working properly, hence my call into our IT help desk to open a trouble ticket. Since the IT brainiac in St. Louis (i.e., Silicon Armpit) couldn't figure it out over the phone, it appears that my company is entrusting me to fully configure the new laptop, including, installing and setting all of the software, firewalls, security settings, systems tools, files, folders, backup data, and the like. I'm honored. It's kind of like when Pak'n Save entrusts you to responsibly pack your own groceries. Except, of course, that a computer contains years of important files and documents and is a wee bit more complicated to figure out than remembering the simple rule of "pack eggs and bread on top." But who doesn't like a challenge?

Anyway, if you could respond this year, that would be great. I'll be the guy in his office stealing WiFi from another building because the fucking network connection doesn't work on this piece-of-shit laptop.

Very Best Regards and Merry Christmas,

David James

One Week Until Christmas ....

Sorry for the delay in posting. I have been busy dealing with a bunch of stuff pertaining to the house, moving, work, etc., as well as struggling to configure and update a new work laptop after my old one died.

Anyway, to answer the various questions that have been asked over the past week or so:

* I officially move in on Wednesday
* The hot tub seats 7
* Sadly there is no stripper pole in the new house (sorry AJH)
* There are no new rugby injuries to report after Saturday's game
* For Christmas I would like world peace and Scarlett Johansson's virginity

Anyway .... I've always been a fan of those old Christmas specials that I watched as a child - "Charlie Brown Christmas," "A Year Without a Santa Claus" ... you name it. Well, except for that lame "Nestor the Long-Eared Donkey." Anyway I somehow stumbled across this video, which analyzes "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" and illustrates what an asshole Santa Claus is. My favorite quote is when he tells Rudolph’s father that he "should be ashamed of yourself" for having a reindeer child with such a deformity.

I kind of knew that there was something wrong about him given the fact that Santa maintained a colony of slave...., uhh, I mean "indentured servant" elves. But I didn't realize what a tool he was before watching this video. Enjoy.

You're So Money and You Don't Even Know It

This video clip from the movie "Swingers" is, without question, the most painful, difficult to watch scene from any movie ever made. It could be just a guy thing, but I simply cringe every time I see it. Even now -- ten years after it first came out -- I can barely stand to sit through the entire scene. The Ned Beaty rape scene from "Deliverance" is far easier for me to watch. Hell, I would rather watch a homemade Star Jones sex tape than this scene.



However, there is one Star Jones video clip I could watch over and over again:

House Update

Below are some house photos which I was able to download from the former seller's agent website (long story). The active link I used to have no longer works since we are scheduled to close in a few days.

Anyway, here it is as the seller had it decorated. You will have to imagine (a) the removal of the yellow paint, and (b) the prominent glass storage case for my Beanie Baby collection. I'll probably have to convert one of the bedrooms for that purpose, but I'm otherwise open to ideas. And if you can suggest decorating ideas that incorporate milk crates and/or recycled cardboard, all the better...

Don't You Put That Evil On Me, Ricky Bobby!

Will Ferrell is fantastic. This made me laugh on an otherwise boring day.

Sorry that the posting has been sporadic recently. The past few days have been hectic in anticipation for the house closing, which is next Tuesday. Which means I will be accepting donations of food come next Wednesday. Preferably no tofu hot dogs, though.

Fuckwit Politician of the Day

Today's Fuckwit Politician of the Day (“FPotD”) is Colorado Republican Tom Tancredo, a freakishly conservative, anti-immigration politician, who recently warned that George Bush was a "dangerous internationalist" who was plotting to integrate the North American continent.

Tancredo, who conveniently forgets that his ancestors were once immigrants themselves, recently told WorldNetDaily, a controversial conservative website, “I know this is dramatic, or maybe somebody would say overly dramatic. But I’m telling you that everything I see leads me to believe that this whole idea of the North American union, it’s not something that’s just written about by right-wing fringe kooks,” said Tancredo, who himself is a right-wing fringe kook who is considering a run at the presidency. “It is something in the head of the president of the United States, the president of Mexico, I think the prime minister of Canada buys into it...”

Not surprisingly, Rolling Stone magazine recently labeled Tancredo as one of the 10 worst congressmen. The publication noted he wants to deport every undocumented worker in the United States, a proposal that would cost at least US$200 billion, and has called for halting all immigration, legal or otherwise.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with Tom “I hate brown people” Tancredo’s politics, here are a few highlights:

* He received press attention for highlighting individual illegal immigrant families for deportation, such as that of Jesus Apodaca, an honor student, who publicly complained about having to pay out-of-state tuition rate at the University of Colorado at Denver, despite being raised in the state, because his family immigrated illegally. How dare they seek higher education!

* Tancredo criticized the Denver Public Library system for supporting Spanish-speaking families through reading materials and offering space for classes. I'm not sure why has an issue with Spanish speakers reading, but oh well.

* Tancredo founded the “Team America” political action committee in 2004 in order to collect contributions for immigration-restrictionist inclined congressional representatives and candidates. Sadly, Tancredo did not receive any credit for being the inspiration for the movie of the same name, ”Team America: World Police”.

* On September 11, 2006, Tancredo spoke to a gathering of the "Americans Have Had Enough Coalition", sponsored by the "The League of the South," which is a neo-Confederate organization that has been described as a racist hate group. According to reports, the room in which Tancredo spoke had a prominent picture of Robert E. Lee and was draped with Confederate battle flags. At the closing of the event, men dressed in full Confederate military regalia present stood up and began to sing "Dixie." Unfortunately, the League of the South couldn't locate an African American slave to lynch in order to make the setting perfect.

* On November 28, 2006, Tancredo was quoted in several news sources as referring to the city of Miami, Florida as a "Third World country." Jeb Bush called Tancredo's remarks "naive" in a letter to the congressman, who replied in a letter "I certainly understand and appreciate your need and desire to try and create the illusion of Miami as a multiethnic 'All American' city," he said. "However, it is neither naïve nor insulting to call attention to a real problem that cannot be easily dismissed through politically correct happy talk." Translation: “Suck it, Jeb.”

* He received press attention for highlighting individual illegal immigrant families for deportation, such as that of Jesus Apodaca, an honor student, who publicly complained about having to pay out-of-state tuition rate at the University of Colorado at Denver, despite being raised in the state, because his family immigrated illegally. How dare they want to get an education?

* Tancredo stirred up controversy in 2005 when he mused on a Florida radio show that America could destroy Islamic holy sites like Mecca if there’s another terrorist attack on U.S. soil.

However, my favorite snippet about Tancredo pertained to the negative publicity he received when the Denver Post reported that two illegal immigrants were among the crew hired to remodel Tancredo’s basement. When asked about it, Tancredo defended himself by saying that he never asked about their immigration status. I guess he wasn’t tipped off by their brown skin and funny accents. But they were relegated to the basement, so how could you fault him?

Tom Tancredo: 2008. Your candidate for a whiter, easier to understand America.

Great Commercials of the 80s

Given his driving, I'm thinking Redd Foxx actually broke into the malt liquor supply before filming this. And I have no idea what the hell the premise was for this commercial:



I used to love watching Super Friends when I was a kid, although what's up with Wonder Woman and Aqua Man flying? That always bothered me:



I remember having one of these toys in my house when I was a kid. I'm pray to the littl 8 lb, 6 oz Baby Jesus that it was my sister's:



Is it just me, or is this the most anti-social commercial of all time? You don't need real friends. You only need the imitation friend that's manufactured and sold for $20 instead:

Mules Gone Wild!

The Sundance Film Festival announced Wednesday that Seattle filmmaker Robinson Devor's documentary "Zoo" has been accepted into the 2007 festival's documentary competition. The film examines the widely reported case of an Washington man who died in 2005 after having sex with a horse. "Zoo" is one of 16 documentaries selected for competition, all of which will screen as world premieres.

Really, a movie about a guy that schtupped a horse? Aren't these made all the time? You know, Rocky VI suddenly doesn't look so bad any more.

I really wish I was there to see how the actor selection process went:

Filmmaker: "I'm making a documentary and am looking for someone to play the lead in recreating some of the main scenes."
Starving Actor: "Sounds good. What does it entail?"
Filmmaker: "You're going to have to fuck a horse and then pretend to die."
Starving Actor: "Okay, I guess I'll do it. Does it pay standard wage?"
Filmmaker: "Actually, it's a documentary, so you won't be paid at all."
Filmmaker: "Okay, just .. don't .. get it my eyes."

Man, I can't wait for that one to hit the big screen. What a touching drama to capture on film. I wonder, when is the Pastor Ted Haggard documentary coming out? (Multiple puns intended)

And yes, somewhere in the faint distance I can hear someone uttering the predictable joke "Rectum? Hell, it killed him!"

Techical Difficulties

For some reason, this free website is giving me difficulties as I try to post some photos. I guess you get what you pay for. Oh well, so much for today's visual humor.

Today's "News of the Disgusting" is brought to you by my favorite 24 Hour Fitness gym. No, not the one in San Francisco that brought you the tofu hot dog story. Rather it's the one in Oakland that brought you this post as well as this rant. Just so everyone's clear on which freak show scene I'm talking about.

To set the scene, I go to wash my hands after using the restroom (as everyone should do, although not everyone follows this simple rule for some disgusting reason). Anyway, they don't have paper towels - ironically for sanitation reasons -- but instead have those adjustable hot air blowers that you dry your hands under. As I turn to go dry off my hands, I look over and see that some dude has turned the air blower upside down (i.e., aiming straight up) and is using it to dry off his package! He literally has his scrotum and wiener resting on the hot air blower as it's going full steam.

It reminded me of the old Mr. Bean videoclip:



My first thought was "what the fuck are you doing? Do you realize you are in public?" My next thought was one of utter revulsion. My last thought was "this poor guy could really use a Philips Bodygroomer if he needs a high-powered hand dryer to blow dry his pubic hair."

Fast forward five days later and I noticed that there was another guy with his head covered with a towel. He had his towel-covered head buried in the same upside-down hand dryer, attempting to dry his hair. At least it was on his head. But I didn't have the heart to tell him that one man's makeshift hair dryer is another man's testicle drying machine.

Happy Belated Thanksgiving

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving this year. I spent a very quiet holiday with family and enjoyed a carb-tastic dinner. Everyone I know loves the Thanksgiving meal (perhaps minus a few annoying relatives), so I've wondered why we only have turkey and all the fixings once per year. I mean, it's not like there's some sort of stuffing shortage or cranberry sauce embargo. The good holidays start to dwindle in the early part of the year, so why not have "Thanksgiving Day II" in, say, June? It's not like "Flag Day" is knocking anyone's socks off.

Hello Bankruptcy

My counter-counter-offer was just accepted on this house. It's located in the Bay Area, which means I will be subsisting on a steady diet of Top Ramen and tap water for the foreseeable future. But at least you all have a place to crash next time you visit Northern California.

Seriously, I am a bit freaked out by it all but oh well. But I figure I've got an extra kidney, just in case I run short of cash. Home inspection is tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Tom Cruise is a Giant

If you're like me, you waited breathlessly all weekend for updates and photos from the big Tom Cruise-Kate Holmes wedding this weekend.

Okay, truth be told, I really didn't give this non-event one second of thought this weekend. Sure, it's not often when a famous celebrity marries his third beard, but still I have a lot of better things to do. Like play rugby. Although this time I didn't make the same mistake as the prior weekend, where I was seriously undercaffeinated for the game (although I didn't think I would play then with my busted up thumb). Instead, I was amped up with caffeine (4 shots of espresso, a couple of Red Bulls and a Coca Cola Zero). I was also fitted with a handy new thumb protector. Actually, it was the splint that my doctor issued me, which I cut down to make less bulky. Pretty neat, eh? Anyway, it worked well and I had played just fine up until the time in the game that my heart actually exploded. Oh well.

Anyway, I've posted this weeding photo to note the amazing growth spurt of Tom Cruise. You remember those kids in high school that grew about 5 inches in one year? Well apparently Tom Cruise just entered puberty and hit the same growth spurt. Either that or he's standing on the backs of his Scientologist groomsmen. Because there's no fucking way that he's taller than her, as evidenced by the following photo:

Honestly, she must be knee-deep in a whole to stand eye level with her diminutive, nut-job husband.

Dear 8 lb, 6 oz Baby Jesus....

It’s the unholy hour of 6:15 a.m. on Tuesday morning, and I’m standing in a security line at SFO airport. There’s about 30 people ahead of me in line, so I’m not alone in my enjoyment. As we shuffle through, one of the TSA agents reminds travelers that there liquids permitted on the plane. Evidently, the tourists ahead of me in line didn’t receive a copy of the memo outlining the well known travel restrictions and were forced to throw away 3 bottles of Napa’s finest wine that they had attempted to smuggle on the plane. Ouch.

As I finally make my way through the line, the splint on my arm draws the attention of security and I am whisked away to a special area for closer scrutiny. Evidently there’s something in the Security Level Orange level that requires individuals wearing medical-related devices to submit to extra-special security screening. God knows what happens to travelers in wheelchairs once the security level is cranked up to Red, but I think it involves a full body cavity search.

Unfortunately for my readers, the rest of my travel to St. Louis was pretty non-descript. I had an entire row to myself, passed out about 10 minutes into the flight, and slept pretty much the entire way. No Shrek-like seatmates, no vomiting octogenarians, no flatulent teens.

What can I say about St. Louis itself? I’m basically out in the suburbs, right near the nation’s largest strip mall (congratulations, Missouri) and I can’t get over the combination of Red State, Wal-Mart, and the general level of unhealthiness. People smoke in bars and restaurants, the serving sizes are ridiculous, and everything appears to be deep fried, even when it doesn’t need to be. The best example of this was one of the dessert options at dinner one night -- deep fried cheesecake. Yup, that pretty much sums up St. Louis for me.

Fortunately for my audience, my flight back from St. Louis on Thursday contained its normal level of heightened annoyance. Within 5 minutes of taking off, I notice that the airplane smells vaguely of vomit. And by vaguely, I mean “strongly.” But it’s no big deal. I’m sure that I can hold my breath for 3.2 hours.

It turns out that the source of the smell was the woman in the row directly in front of me, who is eating some fragrant delicacy that I think is some combination of cod, vinegar and sweat socks. God bless her for sparing people in the airport by waiting until the flight had commenced before breaking into her dinner. What a thoughtful lass.

The voice over the intercom just announced that the in flight movie would be “Talladega Nights - The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.” Wow, things are starting to look up. The rest of the flight I alternate between “Ricky Bobby” and Season 2 episodes of “Arrested Development” and was perfectly content. It even helped me to temporarily forget the putrid stench which was the dinner of the woman in seat 14D. Good times.

Is it Wednesday?

For the thousands (okay, few) of you that were concerned about the status of my thumb, here's a quick update. I got x-rays on Friday to make sure it wasn't broken. They x-rays turned out to be negative, but evidently I have some sprained ligaments in there. So they gave me a splint to protect it, which led to the following exchange:

Me: "So if it's not structural, it's really just a pain tolerance issue, isn't it?"
Doctor: "That's correct."
Me: "So I could play rugby on it tomorrow, in theory?"
Doctor: "I wouldn't advise it."

Fast forward 24 hours later and there I am playing in our first preseason game of the year.

Yes, Virginia, I am retarded.

Update: Travel blog to appear late today or early tomorrow.

Thursday Musings

I've got bad news, good news and great news, boys and girls.

The bad news: I think I may have broken my thumb at rugby practice.

The good news: I have plenty of leftover vicodin from the last time I broke something else playing rugby.

I injured my right thumb - which unfortunately is my party hand - so we'll see how that goes. Chopsticks and thumbwresting are out for a while, but I am able to type and dial into mind-numbing conference calls. So at least my employer is happy.

The great news is not that the Dems took back Congress or that Britney Spears finally came to her senses ... even better than that. I am flying to St. Louis next week! Which means one thing -- more travel nightmares for your reading enjoymen. My nightmare is your amusement! So I'll make sure to find a seat next to the 300 pound sasquatch with the irritable bowels and take plenty of notes.

*** EXCLUSIVE - Pastor Ted Haggard Photo***

I dunno, this picture of Pastor Haggard and male prostitute/ masseuse Mike Jones appears perfetly innocent and heterosexual to me. Personally, I think the whole matter was overblown (pun intended).

Video of the Year

Below is a great videoclip from the movie "Jesus Camp" of Pastor Ted Haggard preaching against homosexuality.



Self loathing, they name is Ted Haggard.

$100 In One Breath

Can you name all the Republicans who have been convicted or are currently under criminal investigation in a single breath?



Thanks to VMD for sending ....

Halloween, The Blog

Happy belated Halloween. Given my sweet tooth, it's really convenient that I have a six and a four year old that also happen to have a penchant for candy. So how great is it that the powers that be created Halloween (a/k/a "Beg For Candy Day")?

A quick rundown of the evening's events. Photos to hopefully follow later.

4:20 - I leave work early (shhh!) and change into my handy doctor's costume. This is the same outfit that I wore to the rugby tournament in Missoula, MT and which I actually played rugby in during our last game of the tournament. Suffice it to say, it's seen better days.

4:30 - Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, Mr. Incredible and Dr. Strangelove hit the streets in search of candy.

4:35 - I just consumed my first piece of Halloween candy eaten (Tootsie Pop for those of you keeping score at home).

4:42 - First bag of M&Ms is gone. Jesus, I need to slow down but right now I have the willpower of Courtney Love in a pharmacy.

5:16 - We visit one of the neighbors who opens the door half-dressed. "You're five minutes early" she says as she's trying to pull up the top of her costume. Evidently so.

5:25 - The kids are finally getting the hang of it. They're no longer dawdling on the porch, admiring the decorations or taking an inventory of the candy they just received. I think the "more houses = more candy" equation is starting to settle in.

5:32 - Some crabby neighbor says "where's your trick?" While technically accurate, this phrase hasn't been uttered since the Nixon administration. I quickly search for a rock to throw threw her window as her trick.

5:53 - I just polished off the first Reese's Peanut Butter Cup of the evening. The over/under is 6. Which is soon followed by ...

5:55 - ... the first Almond Joy of the evening. Goddamn, I have to tape my mouth shut soon.

6:02 - We stop briefly to get some jackets. My back is turned for about 60 seconds when Olivia makes her first wardrobe change of the evening and exits her bedrooms dressed like Snow White. Jesus, that was fast. I don't think Madonna changes clothes that fast at her concerts.

(Editor's note - this was, in fact, her third outfit of the day. Earlier she was dressed as "Arial" in her school's parade. I'm not making this up.)

6:10 - 6:30 - We jump in the car and drive to a different neighborhood to meet up with friends but arrive too late. Oh well, I'm sure we can figure this out on our own.

6:31 - Snow White awakens from her nap.

6:37 - Someone is dressed up as a hobo. Oh wait, that's a homeless person. Never mind.

6:40 - We visit one house where a young woman dressed like a pirate answers the door drinking a glass of wine. Now we're talking. I'm thinking that somewhere there's a trick-or-treating route for adults which involved alcohol and female pirates. I'll have to research that.

6:44 - The kids go up to a house and as the women hands out the plate, my son says loudly "I hate raisins." I am mortified. That being said, raisins are near the bottom of the Halloween Candy Rating Scale:

* Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
* Snickers
* M&Ms
* Twix
* Baby Ruth
* Mounds/Almond Joy
* Herschey's Kisses
* (Insert any other candy I overlooked)
* Raisins
* Loose Candy Corn (seriously, who gives out loose candy these days?)
* Razor Blade Apples

Seriously, raisins are right above bible tracts that people will hand out which warn about the origins and dangers of Halloween. Ack.

6:53 - I actually see someone dressed like a hobo, which is awesome. That costume seemed to die for some reason, but it's great. Enough with the pirates already. More hobos!

7:15 - I gulp down another pack of M&Ms like it's air. Estimated treadmill deficit so far - 41 minutes.

7:30 - What's up with older kids trick-or-treating? I remember doing it when I was like 12, but I swear I just saw someone that had to be 24. Isn't there a cutoff age these days?

7:36 - The kids are getting tired and picky, as one of them politely requests "Do you have any M&Ms?" Jesus Christ, kids, this isn't Walgreens. Time to wrap things up.

7:40 - The evening is over and we head back to the car.

It was actually a really fun time, the weather was good and the kids ended up with a great candy haul. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to explain why those four Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are missing.

Colbert on Limbaugh

I was livid when the Michael J. Fox-Rush Limbaugh story first came out and couldn't find the proper words to convey my disguest (other than "fuck off and die, Rush Limbaugh"). But I think that Stephen Colbert captured it pretty well, though. Make sure to watch until the very end.



Halloween synopsis to follow later on ....

Is it Election Time, Yet?

You may remember the infamous "Willie Horton" political ad which ran during the 1988 Bush-Dukakis presidential race. In 1974, Horton stabbed and killed a man in Massachusetts and was sentenced to life in prison without parole, and was released on some absurd weekend program that allowed inmates to leave. Instead of returning to prison, Horton raped a woman in Maryland in 1987 and was thrown back in jail. Bush used the case to portray Dukakis as being weak on crime. While African American leaders felt the ad linked crime, murder, and rape to being black, I think that the ad actually does a good job of linking those traits to being a Democrat.

Of course, you know the rest of the story. Bush won, which helped blaze a path for his son G.W. to win 2 consecutive elections on way to becoming "The Worst President Ever."TM

The ad sparked racial controversy at the time but in looking at it again, it doesn't look any worse than some of the recent political ads I've seen. Honestly, is the Willie Horton ad any worse than the recent ad ad about Harold Ford, Jr. (D-Tenn), who's made to look like a terrorist-loving, porn addicted, womanizer of white women? It's jaw droppingly bad:



"Dear 8 lb, 6 oz. Baby Jesus ... please don't allow the Democrats to fuck the midterm election up this year. Amen."

Or Perhaps Neon Green?

For those folks with a morbid curiosity, here's a photo of the "sling suit" that I posted last time, which was taken of a man of Eastern European descent and before the use of the Philips bodyshaper. So there you go. More content to follow ...

Does This Costume Make Me Look Fat?

Okay, I'm really torn between the red and blue Halloween costume. I'm thinking of going with the blue one because it's a bit more slimming. Plus I'll finally be able to use my Philips bodygroomer.

Happy Halloween

Today's "Creepy Video of the Day" is brought to you by the Girls' Costume Warehouse in Hackensack, NJ. I think this may be an actual commercial, but the profanity suggests that it's not. Oh well.

My favorites are sexy mustard and sexy Abe Lincoln.

"A Vote For My Opponent Is a Vote For Vietnamese Prostitutes"

Who would support a politician that would rather "spend money on sex than soldiers?"

Uhhh, I would.

Seriously, this is a pretty funny political ad. Even if you don't give a shit about politics, you have to listen until the very end of the clip when his opponent warbles "I'm Paul R. Nelson and I approve of this message." If that doesn't crack you up, then it's not me, it's you.

Gays in the Military

Hilarious clip from The Daily Show about the horrors of gays in the military. From the introduction ("Even though the military has opened their ranks to the old ... delinquent ... and borderline retarded, they had to draw the line somewhere") to the naked G.I. Joe doll, it's a good watch.

Stay the course, GW. We need a straighter military if we're ever to attain freedom for the world. Or whatever blather you spew these days.

Best eBay Item Ever

Yes boys and girls, it's the Mark Foley action doll. The doll comes (no pun intended) with his pants around ankles, a liquor bottle in one hand, and Blackberry for messaging teenage pages in the other hand.

This might be even better than the Paris Hilton doll that the Hello Kitty manufacturer announced that it was producing.

Fantastic.

Duhh, It's "Bodygrooming"

Thanks to some down time at work and the Internet, I learned yesterday that the official term is "bodygrooming" not "manscaping."



My bad. Thanks for the correction, Philips.

There's also a tribute video:

Annoying Person of the Day

And today’s candidates are as follows:

* The person at the coffee store that pushed me aside at the milk/sugar area (BTW, does this area have an official name? The “Additives Station”?) in order to grab two Splenda and one sugar packets …. and then got in line to order his coffee. Like they were going to completely run out of sweetening supplies in the three minutes it took for you to get your venti, half-caf, extra hot, non-fat, no foam latte. What a tool.

* The person wearing the “You Can’t Handle the Raiders” t-shirt. Uhhh, are we talking about the OAKLAND Raiders? Or is there some pee wee football team that you’re bragging about? For those that don’t follow football, the Oakland Raiders are the worst team in the NFL. The are the only team without a win and their prospects for winless season appear bright. Even the San Francisco 49ers beat them, and the Niners are awful. Honestly, if the Raiders win more than 3 games this year, I will paint my face silver and black and pose topless on this blog.

* The person that created jury duty. Yes, I understand our judicial system is predicated upon having a “jury of one’s peers,” but it’s still a pain in the ass. You basically can’t schedule anything for that day because you have no idea if or when you have to report. It’s like being stuck waiting for the cable guy to show up ”10 and 4” and you’re stuck waiting for fear that they will show up during the ten minute period during which you ran to Starbucks to get coffee and run into Asshole #1 today. I personally think it’s finally time that we introduce a professional jury system. You could stock it with law school dropouts, retired folks, and those individuals who have prurient interest in delving into the lives of other people. Meanwhile, important people like me can go to work and, uhhh, work. Wait, strike that idea. I’ll take my semi-vacation day instead.

Manscaping Follow Up

I really should have posted this photo with the prior blog. Sorry about that kiddos. Anyway, it looks like Philips is actively marketing manscaping.

Which makes me wonder if they are also planning on a marketing campaign around the consumption of tofu hot dogs in locker rooms. If so, I know just the two guys who would be perfect for the commercial.

Naked Dude #1: "You know what re-energizes me after a tough workout?"
Naked Dude #2: "What?"
Naked Dude #1: "Standing naked in a locker room eating tofu hot dogs."
Naked Dude #2: "Yeah, you got that right."

Brilliant.

Tuesday Musings

Sorry for the delay in posting, but I've just been lazy. That's all there is to it. But I'm going to do my best to provide content on a more regular basis (tomorrow's jury duty notwithstanding).

Anyway, the highlight of my day was going to the gym, which tells you all you need to know about how my day has gone. And for some reason, I am invariably confronted with weird behavior and/or ridiculous workout "outfits." And the past few weeks have been no different. To wit:

* I am still amazed when I see people work out in their work clothes. I'm no even talking about the guy who happened to wear dress socks or jeans to the gym. I'm talking full on oxford shirt, khakis and dress shoes. On the treadmill ... and on the machines. And you can pretty much guarantee that they went right back to work without showering or changing. Simply awful.

* I am also amazed when I see people walking around the locker room after having emerged from the shower still wearing their workout shorts. Showering while wearing your shorts? Is this middle school gym class or what? Unless you're hung like a Chihuahua, there's no reason to cover up, not to mention the fact that you still have to wash the private parts. You know, by directly applying soap to the area?

* Yes, it is perfectly acceptable to wear workout gloves at the gym. No, leather gardening gloves are not the same as workout gloves.

* What inspires guys to completely shave their arms, legs and chest? I counted 4 people at the gym the other day who were slicker than an election year politician. Now don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with a little "manscaping" now and then. Trimming the carpet which is your upper back hair? Fine. But Jesus Christ, this shit is getting out of hand. It's not like you have an upcoming body building contest there, so unless you're part-Sasquatch, there's really no acceptable reason to Nair your entire torso. Ever.

* The last story still haunts me to this day. I had just finished working out on a Friday afternoon at a 24 Hour Fitness gym in San Francisco. As I walked into the locker room to shower and change, I noticed that there was a sweaty man with a think handlebar mustache standing completely naked with his leg on the bench, talking to another man, who was also completely naked. Okay, not that big a deal so long as they don't start going at it while I'm changing right next to them. No, what was troubling was the fact that the mustached man was eating munching a package of uncooked tofu hot dogs. One right after the other. In a locker room. And then, after consuming the entire package, the two of them headed to the showers, presumably to bathe in separate stalls.

Words do not describe how disgusting it is to watch a sweaty naked man eating tofu hot dogs in a dirty locker room. Even thinking of it makes me throw up in my mouth just a little bit.

It's not me, it's them.

I'm Not Just the President, I'm Also a Member

Rosemary: Is that a Member's Only jacket?
Mauricio: Yes.
Rosemary: So what are you, the last member?

Gwyneth Paltrow and Jason Alexandar, "Shallow Hal"


I saw a man on the ferry this morning wearing a very similar jacket to this classic "Members Only" to this one.

And then upon closer inspection, it turned out that he was wearing an imitation Members Only jacket.

Holy shit. I didn't realize that it was an exclusive club. In my mind I imagined leaning over and saying "you know, it pays to be a member," and then I started to giggle.

Yes Viriginia, I am an asshole.

Tom Cruise is Considerate

Tom Cruise has hired a team of babysitters for his fiancee Katie Holmes so she has time to get in shape for their glitzy wedding ceremony. According to website Tmz.com, Cruise is reportedly "very concerned" that Holmes loses the weight she gained while pregnant before their big day, which is set to take place in early November. To ensure Holmes looks perfect when she walks down the aisle, Cruise has joined her on the grueling training sessions - and has drafted an army of babysitters to look after their baby daughter Suri so they can exercise without any interruptions.

Isn't he thoughtful? And by thoughtful, I mean "diminutive control freak."

Fair and Balanced

On his October 3 show, Bill O'Reilly showed video of Republican pedophile Mark Foley with the tagline "Former Congressman Mark Foley (D-FL)."

Oh, and this happened on three separate occasions, during two different segments.

I know what you're thinking and you're right. Yet again, O'Reilly is on the cutting edge. He outed Foley's secret switch from the Republican to Democrat party before Foley even exited alcohol rehab. Who even knew that he was contemplating such a move? Now that's hard hitting, investigative journalism.

Man, I Was Wrong ...

Dear Former Rep. Foley:

I am profoundly sorry. I made certain statements yesterday that were based on news reports that were released by the liberal media. Reports which later turned out to be inaccurate and incomplete.

Look, I can admit when I'm wrong. Like the time I raked that guy when playing rugby. Or like that time when I snuck out of work to see "Dude, Where's My Car?" That was wrong (on multiple levels).

But now after reviewing the excerpts from the actual transcript of the IM conversation that you had with a teenage male page (how are you supposed to know he was only 16??) and the below video dramatization, I can see that it was totally innocent and harmless. I now realize that your instant messages were taken entirely out of context. I was wrong to assume that IMs such as "get a ruler and measure it for me" and "did you spank it this weekend yourself" were entirely misconstrued. Once again, we have all been duped by the liberal media, which has an ongoing vendetta against honest, god-fearing Republicans like yourself.

Alleged pedophile? No way. Hard working Republican that's been the subject of an unfortunate smear campaign? Absolutely.

Mr. Foley, I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. Good luck with that whole AA recovery thing.

Sincerely,

David James

"Paging Former Representative Foley ..."

Scumbag, hypocrite and former Rep. Mark Foley (FL-R) has entered an alcoholism treatment center three days after resigning from Congress amid allegations that he sent inappropriate e-mail and instant messages containing sexually suggestive material to teenage pages.

"Painfully, the events that led to my resignation have crystallized recognition of my longstanding significant alcohol and emotional difficulties," Foley wrote. "I strongly believe that I am an alcoholic and have accepted the need for immediate treatment for alcoholism and related behavioral problems."

In the letter, Foley said he deeply regrets and accepts "full responsibility for the harm that I have caused." He also said that "with the loving support of my family and friends," he made arrangements on Saturday to enter "a renowned in-patient facility to address my disease and related issues."

Foley, a six-term congressman, was co-chairman of the Missing and Exploited Children's Caucus and a prominent backer of legislation to crack down on online predators and criminalize child pornography on the Internet.

What's been entirely lost in this news story is the amazing disovery that Alcoholics Anoymous is a cure for pedophilia. Fantastic news! No more extensive medical treatments and cognitive behavorial therapies - just 12 little steps and you're on your way to a new beginning, free from all urges to prey on underage minors!

And speaking of which, it irritates the shit out of me how all the articles repeatedly refer to the victim(s) as a "teenage male page" or as "teenage pages." Are they or are they not underage minors? I'm confident that they are minors because why would you include the term "teenage" in the description? If they were 18 or 19 years old, you would simply refer to them as "pages" or "male pages."

Assuming so, why not call it what it is? I'm not certain why we would water down the allegations against this worthless piece of shit Foley, even though he did apparently discover the shortcut cure for pedophilia.

God, people really annoy the shit out of me sometimes. And by sometimes, I really mean "frequently."

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

The good (and by good, I mean "phenomenal")


The bad (and by bad, I mean "100% retarded")

The ugly (and I really do mean ugly here)

Will someone please explain to Matthew that he's supposed to fully shave from the neck UP, not DOWN? And his Unibomber/bandana look is really unflattering.

Sometimes it's Okay to Wear Lifts

Tom "Mugsy" Cruise was spotted recently with Katie "Shaq" Holmes as they stepped out for dinner at the Beverly Regent in Hollywood. Tom -- who is generously listed at 5ft 7in but is dwarfed by his 5ft 8in fiancee -- has been trying to revive his career by appearing in a new Bollywood film. Here's a sneak previw of our favorite little action star.

"There's a Time for Politics"

"Holy Shit Video of the Day" #2 (thanks, B-Hug:

Thank God for Internet Video Clips

Here's today's "holy shit" video of the day. Unfortunately, I can only link to it and cannot post it here for some reason (mostly due to the fact that I am too lazy/stupid to figure it out).

My guess is that Michael Jackson would be kicking himself for building an amusement park in Ireland with all this natural talent in India if he saw this video.

(And yes, I know that it may not actually be India but let's not get bogged down in details here, people. It's the Internet. I'm really only aiming for 80% accuracy here).

*** UPDATE ***

I finally found the videoclip (for the few of you that haven't seen this yet):

Gaelic Fun

As a follow up to yesterday's story about Michael Jackson's plan of opening up an amusement park in Ireland with a leprechaun-inspired theme, it occurred to me that the best part would be naming the rides. And in case they haven't gotten that far yet, I would suggest the following:

"Michael Jackson's Gaelic Adventure"
"Potato Famine Funhouse"
"Spaced Out Mountain" sponsored by Guinness
"MJ's Magical Lap"
"It's a Small World in My Pants"
"The Lucky Charms Pants-Optional Funhouse for Boys"
"The Nude Shamrock Slide" (please note age and gender restrictions)
"Jesus Juice Splash Mountain"
"Pirates of the Nether-Region"
"Captain EO's Bed"
"IRA Shooting Gallery"
"Enchanted Tiki Closet"
"Mr. Toad's Really Wild Ride"
"The Matterhorny"
"Erin Go Bragh-less Tea Cup Ride"
"The 'Leprechauns and Girls Are Scary' Museum"

I imagine he'll also be able to easily recoup some of the $635 million investment by selling "Kiss Me Down There, I'm Irish" and Wanna Rub My Blarney Stones?" t-shirts as well.

Kudos to JP for contributing to the list. Of course, feel free to supplement the list as you see fit (as I'm sure Anonymous will do).

Random Thoughts

I was hoping to post the final installment of my St. Louis trip but my plans were derailed by this little thing called "work." However, I did want to post a couple of quick items:

* I forgot to mention that at one time during my all-day meeting, the company CEO was drawing an analogy and said that he wanted us to "think of the company like a hand."

Feel free to insert your own masturbation joke here. I still have no idea what the hell he was getting at, as I immediately starting snickering uncontrollably.

* In what can only be described as the bad luck of the Irish, Michael Jackson is reportedly planning to open an amusement park in Ireland with a leprechaun-inspired theme.

“Michael is deadly serious about this idea,” a source told Ireland’s Daily Mirror. “He loves the whole idea of leprechauns and the magic and myths of Ireland. It would cost around 500 million Euros [about $635 million] to do. He’s always wanted to open his own theme park and he thinks Ireland is the perfect place and it will all be built around the leprechaun theme.”

God there is so much wrong with this story, whether it be the odd preoccupation with leprechauns ... to the rather obnoxious idea of building some sort of Captain EO-inspired Disney (Ire)land that is supposed to draw Irish people to it ... to the ludicrous thought that someone would actually loan this person money.

Don't get me wrong, I am all in favor of capitalism as much as the next person. I just don't think that opening up an amusment park featuring a bunch of certain-to-be-drunk Irish dwarves dressed up as leprechauns is the most prudent financial investment.

David's Extremely Long Day

For some reason still unbeknownst to me, I was named one my company’s 100 key employees (company size is approximately 2,000). The prize? I got to fly to St. Louis as part of an all-day corporate strategy meeting.

Yes, I said meeting, singular. When originally told that I had to attend the meeting, my initial response was “uhhh, is there a dial in conference number?”

But no, my company felt that my presence was imperative, despite the fact that I would say nothing and gulp down caffeine at an alarming rate. Perhaps they wanted to be amused with reading my amusing anecdotes on this blog. Or perhaps they’re retarded. In either case, here it is in a nutshell.

7:30 a.m.: The day begins with breakfast at 7:30 (which is 5:30 a.m., my time) and my ass is dragging, having spent 10 hours traveling on what was supposed to be my day off and having gotten all of 5 1/2 hours sleep the night before. Surprisingly, alcohol did not play into this equation at all. Looking like hell, I join some colleagues of mine who work in D.C. and who have enjoyed the benefit of the time zone change. The exchange went something like this:

Colleague (chipperly): “Good morning! You look tired, what time did you get in last night?”
Me (under my breath): “Please die.”
Colleague: “Excuse me?”
Me: “About midnight. Doing great. Where’s the free coffee?”

And with that, I quickly gulp down a couple of cups of coffee and grab another cup for the meeting. “Operation: Feed Me Caffeine” has begun in earnest.

7:56: I poke my head inside the huge conference room and decide I probably better grab another cup of coffee. Just in case.

8:00: The meeting commences. Fortunately, the caffeine starts to kick which miraculously nudges me from “comatose” status to “barely functioning.”

8:07: The first slide of the presentation reads “Vision --> Mission --> Goals.” God, this is going to be a long day.

9:45: Time for our first break of the morning which is accompanied by a full on sprint towards the coffee machine.

10:23: The CEO urges us to improve our interaction with our customers: “Let’s touch our customers the first time as right as we can.” I start to giggle not-so-quietly as my boss glares at me.

10:45: Tuning out of the meeting (big surprise there, I know), I decide to take a little fashion inventory and assess the damage:

* There are not less than eight full-blown goatees in the crowd. I thought those were outlawed years ago?
* Surprisingly, there is not a single mullet in the crowd. For the first time today, I am proud of my company.
* Someone has worn a Tommy Bahama-style tropical shirt. I’m sorry, I didn’t get the memo stating that it would be “surf attire” at the meeting. What, no flip flops? Where’s the shark-tooth necklace?
* Another person expressed his individuality by wearing faded blue jeans, hiking boots and a huge foot long ponytail. I keep looking over in astonishment, wondering when the Fab 5 are going to bust in and take this guy out for a Queer Eye makeover.
* Someone is wearing brown and black topsiders with a black suit and a black striped shirt. And a goatee. Awesome.
* I spot what I initially think is someone wearing a black skull cap but upon closer inspection, it turns out to be his hair. He looks exactly like Jim Carrey from “Dumb & Dumber.” I can't post the photo I found on the Internet (yes, I know I need to get a camera phone), but you get the idea.

11:33: Easily the highlight of the meeting is when the CEO started playing the following videoclip:



Based upon the total silence, it’s obvious that few people in the audience even knew who Ali G was. Pathetic. Fuck it, I immediately start cracking up. My boss stares at me in disbelief like my hair is on fire. I don’t even care.

1:30: The second highlight of the day was meeting Yogi Berra who happened to be staying at the same hotel and who was in town for a charity golf tournament. I personally hate the Yankees, but thought it was pretty cool to meet a Hall of Fame baseball player.

2:45: As mentioned, the meeting was comprised of approximately 100 people. When glancing around at the bad clothes and the horrible facial hair, I noticed that the audience is really, really white. I mean, shockingly white. Of the 100 people, approximately 80 are white males. I counted about 15 white females or so, and 6 or 7 Asians (male and female combined). Of that number, it should be noted that 5 or 6 of them flew in from Singapore, leaving one token Asian male who actually works in St. Louis. There’s not one African American in the entire crowd. When responding to an anonymous question about the lack of company diversity, our new head of HR said, in what was surely the understatement of the day, “we could stand do improve in that area.”

My response to our new head of HR comment was “thanks for the statement in the damned obvious, you dumbshit.”

3:00 Good news - the final afternoon break has arrived. Bad news - the freshly brewed pot of coffee has not. Shit. There’s no more coffee, so I’m stuck drinking sugar-free sodas, which is all that’s left.

4:00: I am dying here. I didn’t keep officially tally, but unofficial estimates listed my caffeine intake as follows: 7 cups of coffee, 2 Cokes, and 2 iced teas. And despite all this, by my eyes are heavier than a “Celebrity Fit Club” participant. My brain is so lacking activity, that I half expected Missouri Republicans and outraged Christian groups to intervene before my employers pull the plug on my coma-like existence.

5:20: Mercifully the meeting finally ends. Now it’s off to cocktails, followed by dinner and finally a few hours of sleep before I head back to the airport to fly back to the Bay Area. This has been a colossal waste of time, but at least I got free coffee and frequent flyer miles out of it.

(Tomorrow - “Hey You Dumb Asshole, You Just Ran Over My Luggage!!!”)

DIA (a/k/a "Damn I'm Aggravated")

To continue yesterday's story .... I finally landed safely at Denver International Airport (or “DIA,” as it has been creatively nicknamed). And as previously noted, I am lacking any keen sense of smell and am running about 20 minutes late, but am otherwise in one piece. Hooray.

Since I won’t get to the hotel until around 11:00 p.m., I decide to eat dinner at 5:00 p.m. (4:00 Pacific time) rather than miss my second meal of the day. Sorry, but the savory mix really isn't that filling.

I know what you're saying, "dinner at 5:00?" I feel like a goddamned senior citizen at Red Lobster during the early dining discount hour, for crying out loud. But screw it, I’m really hungry and this is pretty much my last chance to eat for the day.

I make my way to one of DIA’s fine eating establishments and order a sufficient amount of food to tide me over. I’ve got 2 hours until my flight, so I'm hoping that I will be able to enjoy my meal in a relatively stress-free fashion. I also hope that Jessica Alba will get my name tattooed on her inner thigh, but of course that won't happen either.

Now up until that time, my hunger wasn’t really bothering me. But that changed when I allowed my mind to drift and dream about the food that would soon arrive. At this point, my stomach has basically convinved my brain into thinking that I'm a long lost member of the Donner Party.

I wait ... and wait ... and wait for my food but it never arrives. About 15 minutes have passed and they’ve jumped ahead about twenty numbers, so I finally ask, “uhhh, do you have order number 6108 back there?”

The partially-toothed fry cook looks at me and says, “uhhh no. We're on number 6132. Someone must have grabbed it.”

Now I am not an expert on Colorado law, but I think I have a pretty good defense for murder at that point. Where's Mrs. T's lifeless arm when you need it? Sadly, the to-be-deceased has quickly left the scene of the crime with my food.

Fuck me. So instead of searching for the thief, I instead try to explain how I never received my food. Surprisingly, they were very understanding and started to prepare me another order of food. Not so surprisingly, they took another fifteen minutes to prepare it. At this point in time, I'm sure I would eat a shoe slathered in cheese so I quickly devoured whatever it was that they gave me to eat. Finickiness and patience are long gone.

After searching in vain for a replacement toothbrush and toothpaste (what the fuck, am I the only one shopping for this?) and blogging for a period of time while sitting next to an overflowing trash can next to the only available electrical plug (glamorous, I know), I finally boarded my plane. I start to make my way towards the back of the plane when I begin to play my favorite game of “guess who’s my seatmate this time?” Will it be the a tri-state murderer? A chatty person with a weak bladder? Perhaps Mrs. T again?

Nope. I am sitting next to the woman traveling with her 7-month old baby and a 3 year old.

(((Sigh)))

Now I know what you're thinking. This is going to be the absolute worst. I guarantee you that no one on the plane would be eager to switch seats with me? But you know what, the kids were cute and while they cried a bit, it was fine. In fact, they did not hog the armrest at all nor did they reek of incense. My sound tolerance was aided by the “Arrested Development Season 1 DVD,” but I digress. By my low travel standards, this part of the trip was actually not too horrible. No my friends, the horrible part was yet to come in St. Louis.

(Tomorrow - a sneak peek into a business offsite meeting and the fashion norms of St. Louis. Hilarity to ensue.)

Back to the Loo

Hello Boys and Girls …. I am headed back to St. Louis. On an airplane. And you know what this means. More amusing stories for you, the avid reader.

This being my first flight since the London bombings and our corresponding heightened security standards (“Operation No Liquid”), I make sure to give myself ample time to park, walk to the airport, check in, proceed through security, and locate my gate. And by “ample time,” I mean 45 minutes.

As I park my car I realize that I am cutting it really close so I have to calculate whether I have enough time to check my bag. I figure that I will get to the check-in about 45 minutes before my flight. Should I roll the dice and hope I get checked in before the cut-off time (which is usually 45 minutes before the flight) and risk having to discard all the liquids that I have in my checked bag? Or do I play it safe and take out the my hazardous liquids in case I am too late to check my bag and am forced to carry it on instead. Given that I don’t wish to donate all of my personal toiletries to the Oakland Airport refuse bin, and that I have horrible travel luck, I say “fuck it” and leave my entire travel bag in my car. In the process of ridding myself of my contraband liquids; however, I also managed to throw the baby (i.e., my toothbrush) out with the bathwater. Which, as far as my travel goes, is pretty par for the course.

I arrive at the check-in with less than 45 minutes to spare. As I congratulate myself on my prudent decision to leave my travel bag in my car, the gate agent advises me that the cutoff at the Oakland airport is 30 minutes - not 45.

There’s not enough time to head back to my car, so I forge ahead and make my way through the serpentine security line. I am pulled over for special screening when the protein bar in my bag fools the screener into believing that it’s either a gun or a tube of lotion. I’m not sure, but comply quietly as they search my bag. I think of volunteering for a strip search just for the hell of it, but decide to bite my tongue.

Despite being pulled over for special screening, everything is proceeding relatively normally and I am on time for my flight. Yippee.

As the herd of passengers wait to board, I lean over to tie my shoe when all of a sudden, some asshole smacks the side of my head with her oversized purse. Semi-concussed, I look up to see the assailant happily walking away, seemingly oblivious to her act of 3rd degree assault. Now, I don’t know how this could be since she hit me hard enough to cause my head to turn.

“Must … control …. fists …. of …. death ….” I whisper to myself.

As we start to board the plane, I notice that there is another woman drinking a smoothie. Evidently she is the only person in the United States that is completely unaware of the new “no liquids of any kind” security standards which compelled me to abandon part of my luggage. Being the asshole that I am, I sidle right behind her, hoping to position myself well for the inevitable conflict when she is asked to dispose of her nearly-full smoothie.

“Now boarding Seating Area 2,” comes the monotone announcement and the next group of us begins to funnel our way towards the gate. The moment of confrontation is nearing and I am standing right behind her, ready to relish every moment.

And much to my surprise, disappointment and anger, the ticket taker simply relieved her of her ticket -- but not her illegal smoothie. What the fuck?! There’s no way he didn’t see it. Was there a change in the rules in the video I just watched while waiting in the security line?

My sense of justice momentarily thwarted, I tell myself that she’ll surely be stopped by one of the flight attendants, who are tasked with safeguarding our flights.

And nothing happened. She just kept sipping her smoothie as she sauntered past each and every flight attendant. Somehow, I resisted the urge by innocently asking “hey, I didn’t know we can bring on beverages like her. Is that the rule now?” No, I avoided the temptation (and corresponding bad karma) and instead made my way to my window seat in order to prepare myself for the first leg of my flight to Shit Louis.

(Editor’s note: It later occurred to me that you can probably bring on liquids that are purchased within the airport itself, but they should make that clearer).

It’s in the 80’s today in the SF-Bay Area, so it’s really warm on the plane. And my air isn’t working. And I’m wearing a long sleeve shirt for some reason.

As I’m stewing in my window seat (which adds a few more degrees), the captain calmly announces “the auxiliary power unit is inoperative, so we won’t have any air back there until after we turn on the engines.”

WHAT THE FUCK?! Look, I’m not a pilot, so I have no idea what the “auxiliary power unit” is or what happens if it’s “inoperative.” Nevertheless, it can’t be good.

Couple the elevated temperature and the foreboding announcement, and I’m sweating like Mark McGwire testifying before the House Sub-Committee on steroids. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able luck out and sit next to a supermodel or, alternative, Frosty the Snowman.

As luck would have it, a rather husky woman (I am not a weight-phobe; keep reading) makes her way towards back of the plane …. right towards the open seat next to me. Hello seatmate. She looks like a female version of Mr. T, but with slightly larger arms and thinner mustache. She has on several gold chains and gold rings on every finger, and has donned a gold-rhinstoned BCBG velour sweat suit for her flight.

As she sits down next to me, I notice that she reeks of cheap, sickly-sweet perfume. It smells like a combination of incense and rotting rose petals. I also notice that she has helped herself to both armrests. Thank you for sharing.

The temperature on the plane gets worse. Because of vague “problems on the ground,” we end up sitting in the airless crock-pot which is United flight 444 for over 1/2 hour. The plane is, by most conservative estimations, 150 degrees. The heat is compounded by the “sweat suit” (emphasis added) of my seatmate, whose arms and legs are spilling over into my seat. My right leg, which is unavoidably pressed against my seatmate’s veloured quadriceps, is cooking. It is right about this time that I first consider strangling her.

And so it goes. Despite the inoperative auxiliary power unit, we manage to take off and the heat begins to subside.
My seatmate’s aroma persists and, as a result of the air, is now blowing directly into my face.

Adding to that lovely fact is that today’s Savory Snack Mix” offered by United is a fragrant combination of “pretzels, BBQ corn sticks, and garlic & soy nuts.” “Savory must be United’s ironic way of saying “nauseating.” My seatmate grabs two bags. Within a minute she has gulped them both down and is now emanating a combination of incense and Corn Nuts. Fantastic.

I whip out my laptop in order to work (i.e., blog) and get my mind off everything, when I notice I have absolutely no room to type with her ham hock resting on the armrest. She looks at me and says “there’s not a lot of room, is there?” .. and continues to leave her arm firmly planted.

At this point, I slip into a Kate-like fantasy, where I envision ripping off her enlarged arm and then bludgeoning her to death with it, the smell of her warm blood covering up the awful perfume she has doused herself with. Passengers cheer as I vanquish the fragrant Mrs. T. The plane lands safely and Scarlett Johansson greets me as I exit the plane.

Instead, I awake from dream to find we’re on our descent into Denver International Airport. I prepare myself for the inevitable turbulence, shut down my lap top and realize “shit, I’m only halfway to St. Louis.”

(Tomorrow - “Leg Two of the Trip” or “My Bout With Irrepressible Rage”)

It's Rugby Season

I'm stuck on an awful conference call (story of my life), but saw this classic clip from MTV's "Jackass" where 2 members of the cast participate in a early morning practice with the London Irish. Hilarity ensues. Do not try this at home kids.

The Overly Sensitive Weatherman

Suffice it to say, sound is a must have for this video clip.

Sorry if it's slow to load, but I couldn't find it on YouTube.

And yes, I am having a very productive day at work. Thanks for asking.

Gwen Stefani Makes Love Dolls

Gwen Stefani -- the singer, actress and fashion designer -- recently announced that she will bring her trademark rock ’n roll style to the toy industry with a series of limited-edition dolls.

There are eight dolls in all, which Stefani has dubbed the line "Love. Angel. Music. Baby. Fashion Dolls." Each 10-inch doll looks like the platinum-blond rocker or one of her Harajuku Girl dancers (whatever the fuck those are) and are dressed in outfits based on her latest world tour (which I somehow missed, goddammit). The dolls, which retail for $24.95, each come with Stefani-inspired collectibles such as posters, pocket mirrors or trading cards.

First Paris Hilton, now Gwen Stefani. Who will be the next marginally talented, wanna-be entrepreneur to come out with own next self-adulating doll? When can we expect the Jessica Simpson Barbie (self-esteem not included), or the Lindsay Lohan GI Ho (complete with bikini and eating disorder!) model dolls ?

Oh dear 8 lb, 6 oz baby Jesus, please make this insanity stop.

Cameron Diaz Scares Small Children

I've never understood the facsination with Cameron Diaz. She looks like the Joker with bad skin. And based on this photo, it appears that she has developed an allergic reaction to food. Good god, I think I just threw up in my own mouth. Ack.

Is It Friday Yet?

Too swamped to post, so I've added a picture of my favorite ballerina. This work job thing totally sucks these days.

Sign of the Times

Even though I just saw a sign the other day for sub-$3 gas here in the Bay Area, I would totally put out for free gas. Weren't we supposed to have that whole teleportation thing figured out by now?

The Daily Show's "Desperate Soundbights"

The quote at 3:11? Awesome ... yet depressing at the same time.

Can a Mourner Get a Table Dance?

In keeping with this week's theme of awful news originating from Asia, China has started cracking down on striptease acts at funerals.

In the latest news of the depressing, it was announced that striptease send-offs at Chinese funerals may become a thing of the past after 5 people were arrested for organizing a "nuderal" (my term, don't steal it) for a local farmer.

Police swooped last week after two groups of strippers gave "obscene performances" at a farmer's funeral in Donghai County, Jiangsu province, Xinhua news agency said.

The disrobing served a higher purpose, the report noted.

"Striptease used to be a common practice at funerals in Donghai's rural areas to allure viewers," it said. "Local villagers believe that the more people who attend the funeral, the more the dead person is honored."

Striptease shows at funerals also offer the additional benefit of being able to look naked women for free, but why quibble over their stated intent. Sure I was bothered by the atrocities of Tiananmen Square, but this sent me over the edge. If an honest, hard working peasant can't get a lap dance at a funeral, then by god the communists have truly won.

As an aside, if they get groups of strippers to draw attention to a dead farmer, what do you think they have in mind to attract viewers for the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing? God only knows, but let's just hope that Angelina Jolie happens to be in the area next summer adopting another baby.

(Thanks to VMD for forwarding the article - outstanding find).

Herro Paris!

In connection with Sanrio's recent announcement that they would be making a Paris Hilton version of the famous Hello Kitty doll, Sanrio recently released this photo. For some reason, Sanrio only plans on offering the doll in Japan, which I think is pretty petty for having lost the Big One to us, but oh well. Anyway, I do like the fact that Sanrio is making the doll with two friends -- Tinkelbell, her bladder-challenged Chihuahua, and Crabby, her happy social disease that lives under Paris' dress and who says "hello" every so often to Paris' boyfriends. There's hours of enjoyment to be spent watching Paris, Tinkelbell and Crabby avoid the paparazzi and appear on Internet sex videos! Fantastic times await.

Hillary Has a Nice Bust

I'm talking about The "Presidential Bust of Hillary Rodham Clinton" sculpture which is on display at the Museum of Sex in New York. What did you think I was talking about?


The piece was suuposedly inspired after actress Sharon Stone said Hillary could never be president because she is a sexual being.


I'm sorry, are we talking about Hillary Clinton or Hilary Swank? Because I can definitely understand the latter.

Free Willy

Cleto Dias, a 44-year-old Argentinean man with 37 children, has filed a request with the Argentinean authorities requesting that he be sterilized.

For the last 14 years he has been living with three women simultaneously. These days Mr. Dias is no longer capable of memorizing the names of his offspring, not to mention the dates of birth. Not surprisingly, Mr. Dias admits that he has never used condoms in his life and says he has no money for buying contraceptives because he has a large family to support. According to Mr. Dias, he makes only 1.5 Euro a day by painting walls.

"It’s hard to stuff too many hungry mouths with food every day," Mr. Dias was quoted as saying by Spiegel Online.

Good god, can you imagine the insane family bed that dude must have? You know I'm not a doctor, but I think that there is an easy cure for his problem: stop fucking. Don't cut your juevos off, perhaps simply try pulling out just a wee bit earlier or, to play it safe, simply masturbate. Although based on how horny this guy appears to be, it's safe to say he will beat his dick like it owes him money.

Run For Your Life, Hello Kitty!

In the latest sign that we have all collectively lost our minds, Paris Hilton has apparently been given her own line of Hello Kitty figures by Sanrio.

Despite being swamped at work, I searched the Sanrio website in vain - the only thing I could find was some Hello Kitty fashion show which featured Ms. Paris as a runway fashion model. (I guess there's no accounting for taste).

Anyway, if true, it appears that the dolls have got similar blonde hair, purses, and even their very own Tinkerbell. How cute. And by cute I mean "nauseating."

I just wonder when Paris' "My Lil' Crotchless Panties" and the "Hello Kitty Lip Gloss and Penicillin Set" are being introduced.

Steven Colbert on Floyd Landis

Hilarious.

Separated at Birth - The Mel Gibson Edition

See if you can distinguish Mel's recent mug shot vs. the photo of "Squiggy" from "Laverne & Shirley" fame. Don't stare too long, otherwise Mel's creepy "I swear I wasn't doing anything wrong in this van parked outside an elementary school" picture will make you permanently blind.

Travel Diaries - Costa Rica

Hey kids, I'm back in town, rested and tanned from eight days in Costa Rica. I had a fantastic time, even though I am missing (in no particular order) the Maxi-Bodega, Willie the Insane Driver, “Fingers,” and Guaro. Thanks to everyone (A.S., B.G., C.M., G.B., M.S., and S.S.), who went to CR as well. It was also great catching up with A-Train and M. on the trip, who joined up from Panama.

We stayed in an amazing/huge condo near Jaco, which is a beach town on the Pacific Ocean side of Costa Rich that's known for its surfing (more on that later). It was an amazing, event-packed trip over the 8 days we were there, so I’ll just break up the highlights over a few posts. What follows below is a quick synopsis of the water-related adventures, including pictures. Land-related aspects of the trip -- including, without limitation, my hand feeding monkeys and risking my life for sport -- will follow under a separate entries.

On our 3rd day there, the crew of the “Spanish Fly” (I’m not making this up) took a group of seven of us out. When they say deep sea, they mean it. I estimate that we were at least 15 - 20 miles off short.

Note to my readership - do NOT drink to excess the night before you head out on an all-day deep sea fishing. Trust me, it’s about as wise as sharing a hypodermic needle with Tommy Lee. I was green the entire way out, but managed to rally once we started cruising.

Now for me, this was my first time deep sea fishing. But having watched “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom” for years when I was a kid made me an expert, at least in my mind I was. That notion was quickly disabused when we snared our first fish -- a huge sailfish -- which I got the honor of reeling in. I like to think I’m pretty strong and in good shape, but that thing just wore me out. After what seemed like an hour of struggling, I finally reeled the sailfish to the port side of the boat, at which point the real fisherman brought him into the boat long enough for me and A-Train to pose next to it:

BTW, I think this photo also qualifies for my first HNT posting.)

As you can see, the monster was huge. It was about 8 feet long and was estimated at about 100-110 lbs. Since we were releasing everything we caught (sort of a marine recycling program), "Henry" took Jaws and placed him over the side of the boat in order to get water back in its lungs and then release him back into the ocean, As he was doing this, I saw that he was starting to slip in so I instinctively grabbed his feet to so save him. He then gives me this look like “what the fuck are you doing, gringo” at which point I realize he actually is intending to get into the water with Orca, the killer sailfish. “Knock yourself out,” I think to myself.

Holding the fish by its 2 foot bill, Henry yells at me to jump in.

I’m like “are you fucking kidding me?” David James is not a huge fan of oceans, nor is he a big lover of large marine wildlife that bears a striking resemblance to a shark.

“You need to jump in to take a photo with the fish,” another crewmember admonishes me.

Powered by peer pressure and adrenaline, I jump in the water and swim over to the fish, as does A-Train … even though he had nothing to do with catching the fish. Some people are just camera whores.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the day before we left, I figured I would try my hand at surfing. Despite living most of my life in California, I am almost embarrassed to admit I’ve never surfed before. I’ve also never visited Alcatraz nor gone wine tasting in Napa Valley either, but we’ll just keep that to ourselves. I have a reputation to protect here.

For those that have never tried it before, surfing is really hard. It takes balance, stamina and a lot of experience before you really get the hang at it and are any good. It’s even more difficult to cut one’s surfing teeth in an a region that’s known for its challenging waves and avid surfing scene. But when in Rome ….

A.S. is a great surfer and was a patient instructor. After some basic instruction (“avoid drowning,” “try not to embarrass yourself”), I headed out to the not-so-deep blue. It was difficult at first, but I slowly got the hang of it after much trial and error. I don’t have an actual photo of me surfing (thanks for nothing B.G. and S.S.), but I imagine it looked a little something like this:

Okay, I didn’t actually surf a 30 foot wave, but I did see some 6 - 8 foot waves, which were large enough for me. I did avoid drowning and didn’t make a total ass of myself, so all-in-all it was a successful first time.

More content and photos to follow, including the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life.