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.

I Blog, Therefore I Am

I am back, boys and girls ... ladies and gentlemen and refreshed from a great vacation. While it's tough beig back at work today - well, it's only 2 days so I'll just nut up and deal with it. Blogger is acting up, so I can't post any photos. So there goes half of my blogging content. Oh well. I'm still digging out at work, but I will get some new content and photos up ASAP.

<-- Insert Witty Title Here

Just wanted to give you all a heads up that blogging will be a little sporadic this week (I know, what's new about that announcement?) as I am traveling. But I hope to post as soon as possible, including photos and funny things from my Disneyland trip ... more crazy things that Republicans do and say ... and, uhh, whatever else I seem to be writing about these days.

RIP Asshole

There's an old adage - never speak ill of the dead. And at the memorial ceremony for Enron founder and corporate douche bag Ken Lay, that maxim was strictly followed.

The offensive article can be found here, but I've detailed some of the salient highlights below for your reading pleasure, as well as a few editorial comments.

(As an aside, it might be fun to engage in a little drinking game as you read this article. Simply down a shot of your favorite alcohol every time I use the word "fuck" and see if you can still blow 0.08 on the breathalyzer - I bet you can't.)

* Lay's stepson David Herrold told the nearly full First United Methodist Church in Houston that Lay was wrongly convicted, and that he was angry about the portrayals of his stepfather in the media. "He did have a strong faith in God and I know he's in heaven, and I'm glad he's not in a position anymore to be whipped by his enemy," Herrold said.

Uhhh, hello David ... Lay was found guilty on all six counts of conspiracy and fraud by a jury of his peers ... he was ruled guilty of four counts of fraud and false statements in a separate bench trial ... and he was a little over 3 months away from his sentencing. How in the fuck can you say he was wrongly convicted? "Whipped by his enemy?" Are you talking about the federal prosecutors? Or the angry 4,000 employees that lost their jobs and retirement savings? Help me to understand this one. And also, how in the world can you presume that he (or anyone else) is already in heaven? Don't get me wrong, it's awesome that you have that divine vision that allows you to do that, but let's keep it on the down low until after the body is cold. People are still a little bit worked up over ol' Ken (see: James, David)

* Lay was a longtime friend of the Bushes, contributing to their political campaigns and was nicknamed "Kenny Boy" by President George W. Bush.

Okay, this snippet just made me fucking ill. I guess it's a requirement that every incompetent fucking FoB ("Friend of Bush") gets some retarded nickname like "Brownie" or "Kenny Boy."

The article should have also pointed out that -- in addition to giving him a silly ol' nickname -- Bush also signed a law in 1999 deregulating Texas electric markets, which, coincidentally enough and shortly thereafter: (a) caused energy prices went through the roof ("Hello massive Enron profits", and (b) caused Kenny Boy to return the favor by becoming one of the largest contributors to the Bush-Cheney 2000 presidential campaign (his donation history shows he contributed a staggering $651,760 to Republicans). Odd coincidence that all is.

* The ceremony started slightly late after former Houston Mayor Bob Lanier collapsed in the aisle as he entered the church. He was taken by ambulance to the hospital, and an announcement made later in the ceremony said he was in stable condition.

This was probably the most ridiculous part of the article. What grown man swoons at another grown man's funeral, like he's a pre-pubescent teenage girl at a "New Kids On The Block" concert. Fucking nut up, Bobby Boy (or would it be "Lanie"?).

* The Reverend Dr. Bill Lawson compared Lay with civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. and Jesus Christ, and said his name would eventually be cleared. "He was taken out of the world right at the right time," he said. "History has a way of vindicating people who have been wronged."

Wait, there's more hyperbolic goodness:

"The folks who don't like him have had their say. I'd like to have mine ... (Like Jesus Christ) he was crucified by a government that mistreated him."

Okay, this comment was so fucking insane and over the top, that I simply had to disregard it in its entirety. I dunno Reverend, last time I checked, I really don't recall Jesus being the cause of rolling blackouts in Nazareth or MLK making $42 million in salary or dumping $300 million in Enron stock. I'm pretty sure that Gandhi was indicted, but then again I'm really bad on history.

* Reverend Steve Wende, pastor at First Methodist Church of Houston which Lay attended: Lay was "in many ways a great hero to me."

Memo to dumbfuck Reverend Wende: please note that to others, Ken Lay was the worthless piece of shit that headed the company that manipulated energy markets, defrauded investors, and ruined the lives of thousands of employees. Oh well, you say po-tay'-toe, I say po'-ta-ta.

Enjoy hell, Ken Lay. I'll see you soon. Let's hope they serve beer there.

Pirtes of the Caribbean: Dirty Feet Walking

A more Disney post will follow, but I thought I would post a Disney-related item in the interim. Keira Knightley meet my good friend, sandals.

Ick.

I Am Alive

I swear I am. I know it's been a long time, kiddies, but work has been crazier than Tom Cruise (if that's even possible). But there's some good news on the horizon: (1) it's Friday, which means that everyone in my company will soon stop working after lunch, and (2) I'm headed to Disneyland this weekend which means good blog content next week, plus I ..., uhh, the kids get to ride on the new Pirates of the Caribbean ride. They/we/I can't wait.

And just because ...

Keith Olbermann Rips Bill O'Reilly a New Asshole

I think the title pretty much speaks for itself. Personally, I'm waiting for the celebrity pay-per-view boxing match, which I hope is forthcoming.

More Reasons To Hate Dianne Feinstein

As a follow up to yesterday’s blog, I decided to post some more information as to why I strongly dislike good ol’ Dianne and why she is so distrusted by the political left. Feinstein, who has a track record of compromising with Republicans, is considered very pro-business and has sponsored or voted for a bunch of legislation which has been very unpopular within her own party (Source: Wikipedia):

* She has voted for most lawsuit reform measures and was a co-sponsor of the Class Action Fairness Act of 2005.
* She voted for the first tax cuts in 2001
* She voted for the Medicare Prescription Drug Improvement and Modernization Act in 2003.

My biggest pet peeve is that Feinstein supported the war in Iraq . She has since claimed that she was misled by President Bush on the reasons for going to war. My response - no shit. That didn’t stop Rep. Barbara Lee (D-CA) from voting against the war from the get go.

The Center for Public Integrity has reported that Feinstein and her husband, Richard Blum, are making millions of dollars from Iraq and Afghanistan contracts through his company, Perini. There have also been critics who argue that Feinstein's support of policies that are friendly to the Chinese government are because of her husband's extensive China-related business holdings.

Senator Feinstein was the original Democratic co-sponsor of a bill to extend the USA Patriot Act. In a December 2005 statement, Senator Feinstein stated, “I believe the Patriot Act is vital to the protection of the American people.”

ACK!

Feinstein is a supporter of capital punishment and, as noted yesterday, she was the main Democratic sponsor of the failed 2006 Constitutional flag burning amendment. Defenders point to her record on other issues: abortion rights, she voted against NAFTA, the Defense of Marriage Act, school prayer, welfare reform, and the 2005 bankruptcy bill.

Honestly, those stances are nothing special. Her pro choice position is an absolute non-starter for any politician in California. And her opposition the Marriage Act is not the same as being a proponent for gay marriage (unlike Gavin Newsom). Prayer in public schools? As one who attended public school in Oakland, CA for eight years, I was only interested in praying that I wouldn’t get my ass kicked after school.

It should be noted that she is not warmly embraced by Republicans, though. Gun rights organizations, who say that her proposals on gun control are unconstitutional, have alleged that Feinstein herself is hypocritical for making such proposals despite having had a concealed carry permit -- difficult to obtain in California -- during her tenure as a San Francisco politician.

All in all, she’s your typical career politician who basically lucked into her two biggest positions:

(a) Mayor of San Francisco. San Francisco mayor George Moscone and supervisor Harvey Milk were assassinated in November 1978 by a rival politician, Dan White, who had resigned from the Board of Supervisors only two weeks prior -- as president of the Board of Supervisors, Feinstein automatically ascended to the mayoral position.

(b) U.S. Senator. Feinstein won a special election to fill the California Senate seat which became vacant in 1990 when Pete Wilson was elected Governor of California. Ironically, Wilson’s opponent was Feinstein, who ended up with the political door price of U.S. Senator.

It goes without saying that I think it might be time for Dianne to retire and go quietly into the sunset. Having just turned 73 last week (Happy Birthday Di!), I’m praying she doesn’t pull a Strom Thurmond and try to hold on for another 30 years.

Double ACK!

Dianne Feinstein -- #1 On My Shitlist

Fuck it, we'll continue with the political blog since it's an election year and there seems to be an unending supply of entertainment.

It was just announced that the Senate rejected a constitutional amendment that would have given Congress the power to ban flag burning. The tally in favor of the measure was 66 to 34, just one vote shy of the 67 votes required for a two-thirds margin of approval. Such a majority would have been necessary in the Senate and House before a constitutional amendment could have been sent to the states for ratification.

The amendment's advocates have been promoting it for years and had hoped that Republican gains in recent Senate elections would get them to the two-thirds threshold. Thankfully, there were 3 GOP senators who broke ranks and provided crucial votes that thwarted the measure.

That's not to say that Republicans lost entirely. The still got in some great sound bites for the mid-term elections this Fall:

"Old Glory lost today," said Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist (R-Tenn.), one of the amendment's prime backers. "At a time when our armed services are defending America's freedom in the war on terror, it's unfortunate that a minority of my colleagues blocked" the proposal.

President Dimbshit expressed regret that the amendment failed. "By showing respect for our flag, we show reverence for the ideals that guide our nation," he said in a statement. "We show appreciation for the men and women who have served in defense of those ideals."

Of more disgust to me was the support thrown to it by Sen. Dianne Feinstein of California. She spoke of picking up a newspaper in 1945 and seeing the now iconic photograph of Marines raising the American flag on Iwo Jima. "For me, at that time as a 12-year-old, and for the nation, the photo was a bolt of electricity that boosted morale," she said. "Its symbolism of everything courageous about my country was etched into my mind for all time."

Feinsten (who has evolved into a female version of Joe Lieberman over the years) argued that the amendment was "no slippery slope" toward an erosion of rights and that "protecting the flag will not prevent anyone from expressing his or her point of view."

Holy shit. I can't even fathom that she actually believes what she's saying. Jesus Christ, Dianne -- you're a Democtratic Senator from California, not Mississippi for crying-out-loud. You're not running for national office, so there's no need to pander to the Religious Right.

Ridiculous.

Where's Jesse Helms When You Need Him?

For those that love Southern Republicans -- and honestly, who doesn't -- you have to read this fantastic story about the run for the North Carolina House seat held by two-term Democratic Rep. Brad Miller.

His opponent is Vernon Robinson, who once introduced himself to voters by declaring: "Jesse Helms is back! And this time, he's black!"

Now it strains logic as to why anyone would want to compare themselves with Jesse Helms, the former NC senator who, as the article points out, fought civil rights legislation, laws to protect homosexuals from discrimination and funding for AIDS research -- but we'll put that aside for a moment to focus on the truly offensive part.

It seems that Robinson has waged a brutal offensive campaign against Miller, which has included suggestions that Miller is gay. In one radio ad backed by mariachi music, Robinson says, "if Miller had his way, America would be nothing but one big fiesta for illegal aliens and homosexuals." And in a mass mailing, Robinson suggested that "childless" Miller had "gotten into bed" with a male blogger from San Francisco.

It's odd, but Robinson's campaign somehow omitted the little fact that the reason that Miller and his wife do not have children is that she had a hysterectomy more than two decades ago.

Oops. I'm sure it was an oversight.

But wait, there's also the "issues page" on his website where Robinson notes that "Vernon Robinson has been married for 23 years (to a WOMAN, of course)."

Lovely.

The only redeeming part to this is the fact that his own party in the state wishes he would shut the fuck up and leave the state entirely. This is made even better when you click on the "Endorsements" page of his website where it notes "Stay tuned for endorsements!"

You would think Tom DeLay has some spare time on his hands to lend this fuckwit an endorsement. What ... can't Strom Thurmond lend his support from the grave? Jesus people, this guy is going to save us from the gays! He needs your help!

In Hell

Sorry for the delays in posting kiddos, but I am in end-of-month, end-of-quarter hell here at work, which is leaving me with no time for posting anything new in terms of content (yeah, yeah, what else is new David James? We've heard that before).

So yes, I suck. All I can do is post a funny picture and beg for your indulgence.

Wacky Conservative Friday

And by wacky, I really mean "loathsome."

First, there was the report that Florida Governor Jeb Bush recently signed a bill making “In God We Trust” Florida's new state motto. Oh goody. Better prepare for that ACLU lawsuit in 5 ... 4 ... 3 ...2 ...

Then there was the equally fantastic story about the Boise resident that complained to his local library board that “The Joy of Sex" and "The Joy of Gay Sex" books were pornographic and should not be part of the library's collection. When the library board rejected his request, Randy Jackson checked out a copy of the book "The Joy of Gay Sex," and he said he had no plans to return it.

Enjoy the book, Randy. I hope it serves you well.

Lastly, Dan Henniger, Deputy Editor at Fox News, likened gay marriage to a woman in India that married a snake. Fortunately, Stephen Colbert was there to clarify things.



"I am in love with this motherf*cking snake!"

The Healing Lap of Christianity

Christian psychotherapist Richard Cohen, who is board president of the "ex-homosexual education and outreach organization" known as Parents and Friends of Ex-Gays and Gays, has been addressing criticism leveled against certain therapy techniques he uses on clients with homosexual desires.

Cohen, a former homosexual and the author of the book "Coming Out Straight" (which as an aside, is a horrible title) insists that no one is born with homosexual desires. He claims his therapy group has helped many men and women with unwanted homosexual desires achieve their goal of changing their sexual orientation and becoming heterosexual. He contends that it's not a choice to have homosexual desires, but it is a choice to act upon those desires. He says those unwanted homosexual feelings are the result of temperament, familial influence, and environmental or social conditioning, all of which can be addressed through specific therapeutic principles and practices.

Some of Cohen's controversial methods, though, have raised some questions. Most notably, he has taken sharp criticism over a May 23 appearance on CNN, in which he demonstrated a technique that involves cuddling a male client in his lap. Cohen, who refers to himself as a reorientation therapist, explained the "holding therapy" exercise as a means of using "healthy touch" on clients, who very often were "touch deprived" as children. He says this technique is one of the most effective ways to help men and women leave homosexuality.

"They're hungering for that intimacy and that bonding that they didn't experience in primary relationships with parents and/or same-gender peers," the psychotherapist asserts. "So what we have to provide then, in the Christian community, is really mentoring these men and women," he says, "and a lot of them need healthy touch -- hugging, holding, just palling around, buddying around."

Um, yeah.

Now I'm no Sigmund Freud and I'm sure there's a divergence of opinion among the experts themselves, but I'm pretty sure that stradling your gay psychotherapist is not going to "cure" or "correct" their sexual orientation. Call me a skeptic. What's the next level of reorientation therapy, an airtight?

On Your Marks, Get Set ....

One of the more sordid rumors that made its rounds on the Internet was that Benicio Del Toro had somehow managed to boink Scarlett Johansson in an elevator. Ms. Johansson flatly denied the rumor (thank godness), as I'm presuming she's remaining a virgin for our wedding night.

But assuming Hell froze over and that it did in fact happen, I think that the below videclip is a fairly accurate reenactment of the alleged elevator tryst, except substituting myself for that gila monster. Remember, were talking about an alevator here, people, so time is of the essence.

And it's in Japanese as my tribute to her breakout role in "Lost in Translation." Enjoy.

It Could Be Worse

For anyone that's worked for a law firm before -- and especially if you've worked for a large firm - you can appreciate this website: Anonymous Law Firm. (And I know some of you reading have worked for a law firm, so read on.)

They might have changed the faces and names, but the people at the firm are still entirely recognizable. The office mascots are great but what does it for me are the glum office quotes:

"I've always wanted to work in an office filled with smart people -- to bounce ideas back and forth, brainstorm solutions to tough problems, and feel like we were all on the same team. Oh well."

"I wanted to find a place where I could set my own schedule, make my own hours, and wouldn't need to constantly check in as long as my work was getting done. Sometimes we make sacrifices for the good of our careers."

"The interviews were fun, comparatively speaking. I got to meet lawyers at the firm I haven't seen since. It's a great chance to network."

"I love the subsidized gym membership. It would be really frustrating to know I was paying full price for something I never use, but since I'm only paying half, it's not so bad."

I actually got depressed reading some of the content, which made me appreciate my own job for about 13 minutes. Then I got some call from some ass-clown who wanted his amendment drafted 12 minutes ago.

It's not me, it's you.

And the Lord Said, Remember My Three Commandments!

Here is a great videoclip of Stephen Colbert interviewing Congressman Lynn Westmoreland (R-GA), who co-sponsored a recent bill requiring the display the Ten Commandments in the House of Representatives and the Senate.

Note to Congressmen Westmoreland: If you co-sponsor a bill requiring the display of the Ten Commandments, you might want to study the list on the off chance that that Colbert asks you to actually name them. Which he does. But you now, 3 out of 10 isn't too bad.

Or even better yet, decline the opportunity to be interviewed altogether and avoid making a total ass of yourself.

It's not me, it's you.

Domo Arigato, Mr. Retardo

The below is a transcript of a President Bush speaking to a legally blind reporter wearing sunglasses:

THE PRESIDENT: Yes, Peter. Are you going to ask that question with shades on?

Q I can take them off.

THE PRESIDENT: I’m interested in the shade look, seriously.

Q All right, I’ll keep it, then.

THE PRESIDENT: For the viewers, there’s no sun. (Laughter.)

Q I guess it depends on your perspective. (Laughter.)

THE PRESIDENT: Touche. (Laughter.)

And to answer your next question, of course there's video.

Monkey See, Monkey Grope

Okay, I know absolutely nothing about this show, but I'm furiously scanning Amazon trying to buy the entire season on DVD.

I have to admit even I was a bit creeped out by it, but the monkeys' reaction at the end makes it all good.

*** I removed the link because even I got tired of hearing the non-stop verbiage. There was no way to turn down the volume or keep it from auto-starting ***

Hello Ten-neck-see

The White House announced Tuesday that President Bush is taking Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi to Memphis, Tennessee for a pilgrimage to Graceland. The trip to Presley's estate is scheduled for June 30, a day after Koizumi -- who is allegedly a big-time Elvis fan -- is scheduled to meet with GW at the White House, Bush spokesman Tony Snow said in a statement.

Said Snow, "The president and Mrs. Bush look forward to introducing the prime minister to the beauty and warm hospitality of the people of the Volunteer State."

Wow. I can just imagine GW agonizing over where to take the Japanese Prime Minsister on his upcoming trip to the United States:

"Juni's flying hundreds of miles to visit, so I have to take him some place good. Let's see ... if I were the king of Japan, where would I want to visit? Normally we would just go to Senior Frog's for some tequila shooters, but that's getting kinda old. Maybe the Smithsonian? Scratch that idea ... all that reading makes my head hurt. How about Benihana's? Nah, they probably have a couple of 'em over there."

"Wait a second, I got it. Graceland! Done deal."

How fucking neck-ish is that? You would think they could find a better place to take the Japanese Prime Minister than Tennessee. With all due respect to Tennessee, I really don't think it's representative of this country socially, culturally or politically (or is it?? I hope not). Jesus, we're talking about a state where "Larry the Cable Guy" is revered and "Hee Haw" is broadcast on PBS for cryingoutloud. What the fuck, was Dollywood all booked up?

Now if it were up to me, I would put him in the backseat of a Suburban filled with alcohol -- not to mention a box of Kleenex -- and make the seven-and-a-half hour drive from Washington DC to Cleveland to visit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum. There's good sushi there and even better blue drinks. He'll love it, even if the place is dead on the weekends and smells vaguely of feet. Just make sure not to stop along with way in Pittsburgh for a heavy German breakfast (sorry, inside joke).

But instead, he'll be subjected to this.

High Five

Okay, enough with the silly photos. On to the silly video clips.

I had heard they were coming out with a full length film featuring Borat, presumably as a sequel of sorts to the inspirational film "Ali G Indahouse," which I think was nominated for a total of four Acadamy Awards. I still think it was royally screwed over by "Chicago," but what's done is done.

Anyway, I've watched the the trailer below for "Borat" and I have to tell you I have mixed feelings. I love Borat and never get tired of seeing his 5-7 minute scketches on the Ali G show. But I'm not sure that how well this will translate over a 90 minute film, especially after having watched the below clip which I would best describe as "underwhelming."



That looks not so great. But I expect that it will get better once he gets into what I am sure will be a non-stop parade of jokes at the expense of the stupid and narrow-minded.

Case in point, this videoclip from the Ali G show of some unknowing Southern Republican who's running for Congress, who enlists the "help" of Borat to go door-to-door and meet with voters.



Favorite quote: "He will be powerful like Stalin and not tolerate people who are bad. ... If you do not vote for him, he will take power... and you will be sorry." But even better is the guy's reaction, which can best be described as horrified.

Here's hoping that the Borat skit translates into a better movie than "It's Pat".

My Apologies

I'm sorry folks for the horrific post from yesterday. I really am and don't know what came over me. I don't know what I was thinking at all.

As a sort of gift of atonement, I offer the following as a visual sorbet to cleanse the pallet.

It's Been a While

Yes, I know I've posted this picture at least 2 or 3 times before but it never gets old. Or at least to me it doesn't.

Let's Hug It Out Bitch

This compilation of Jeremy Piven clips from "Entourage" is a little long, but it's fantastic.

My favorite quotes:

Lloyd: “Ari, swear to me that you will never again say anything offensive to me about my race or my sexual orientation.”

Ari: “I can’t swear to that, but I promise you that I will always apologize after.”

As well as:

Ari: "I'm going to be there in 90 seconds. I want you to find out who covers Warners. If all this is not taken care of, I will choke you out with a strap-on."

His character is entirely contemptible, but fucking hilarious.

Wedding Follow-Up

Blogger was acting up yesterday, so I was unable to post this additional photo yesterday. Honestly, you would think that free service would be better than this. Oh well.

There were no good wedding photos of me taken (as always), so I decided to post this one of my female wedding companion from this past weekend instead. She's way cuter than me, so I figure it's all for the better anyway.

Mea Culpa

My apologies, kiddos. I know that I've been positively derelict in my duty to post original content recently. I have just been inundated with work, travel, etc. so I thought would give a quick rundown of some of the highlights (and lowlights) over the past few weeks:

* I had to dust off the ol' suit in order to go to 2 weddings in the past month. One was for my sister and one for my ex, both of which were lovely events. The only lowlight from the two events was that my sister's wedding was held in San Luis Obispo the one day that they got an inch and a half of rain ... and both the ceremony and reception were outside. Hello typhoon. The rain was so heavy that it soaked my suit and the dye in the suit bled through to my dress shirt, which is now also dyed. And ruined. I've never heard of this before.

* Below is a picture of my sister and her husband making the best of it all during their first dance. It should be noted that by this time she had changed out of her soaking wedding dress in order to avoid ruining it, and into what she basically wore over to the wedding site.

* To answer your question, no there were no suitable photos of me taken. I look like a drenched cat in each one. Sorry.

* Note to Kate -- better make it an indoor wedding or be prepared to offer umbrellas as wedding favors.

* Exy's wedding was nice, too, although I could have used a couple more glasses of sangria. Oh well, at least Olivia looked cute:

* Brian (my son) got his first visit from the tooth fairy, as he had 2 of his baby teeth removed by the dentist since his permanent teeth were coming in. I wasn't sure what the going rate was and he was expecting coins, so hopefully $1 per tooth was okay. Shit, I don't know. If that's way off, let me know.

* While driving this past week in the Bay Area, I noticed two atrocious vanity plates. First was a woman driving a Mercedes with the plate "BLNGGRL" which I presume is short for "Bling Girl" but which might as well be "MATERIALISTICWHORE."

The second was guy driving a Nissan 300ZX with leather side mirror protectors and the plate "SP9DOC" and blasting A Ha's "Take On Me." What a moron. I wouldn't let him adjust my spine with Jessica Alba's hands.

* I went to the gym last night and noticed a guy with THICK ASS hair on his shoulders. It looked like bark. Coincidentally, I had a dream that a Sasquatch was working out in my gym. Odd.

* Rugby practice is tonight, so I'll finally be able to break in one of the three new pair of boots that I recently bought. I should be shot.

Okay, that's about it for now. Hope everyone is doing well.

Olbermann Calls Bullshit

Classic Keith Olbermann smackdown of Bill O'Reilly and his total disregard for truth as it relates to some "facts" about war which were spouted on Fox News. Ouch. One only wishes that the media would come down as hard on the current administration and the candidates in these mid-term elections.

A Quick Note

I will continue with the next installment Celebrity Wellness Week, but I need to make my own wellness confession. I am insane.

I went to the semi-annual Canterbury rugby warehouse sale where you get fantastic stuff for really cheap. I went there to pick up some stuff for a few buddies that couldn't make it, while intending to get some studs for my current rugby boots (i.e., cleats), which are still in decent shape, and perhaps some clothing.

And then I got there and started looking at all the new rugby boots and started chatting with the guy running the sale ... and before you know it, I bought three (!) different pairs of rugby boots: a new pair for games, a molded pair for hard surfaces and another lightweight pair for training.

Now I spent less than $100 on all three pairs -- which is a steal -- but I went in there telling myself "Don't get seduced by the boots. You're in your late thirties and not going to play forever. You don't need new boots."

And somehow I walked out with not one, but three pairs.

I am insane.

In this instance, it's not you, it's me.

Pat Robertson -- Leg Pressing For God

In the latest “News of the Fictitious,” Pat Robertson recently announced that he can leg press 2,000 lbs. and even posted a video demonstrating his implausible leg strength.

Pat posted on his 100% accurate CBN website he can leg press up to one ton of weight with the help of an unnamed quack doctor. I quote:

"Pat Robertson worked out at the gym on an incline leg press machine with weights up to 570 pounds. Working with his physician, who was an amazing strength trainer, he worked up to 800 pounds, then 1,000 pounds. Then one day he was able to leg press 1,500 pounds one time. Then over the succeeding months, he trained with multiple reps of 1,200 pounds, 1,300 pounds, and 1,400 pounds.

One Saturday morning, his physician said, “I’ll get you bragging rights. Let’s go to 2,000 pounds.” Then he worked up multiple reps of 1,400 pounds, 1,500 pounds, 1,600 pounds, 1,700, pounds, 1,800 pounds and 1,900 pounds. When 2,000 pounds was put on the machine two men got on either side and helped push the load up, and then let it down on Mr. Robertson, who pushed it up one rep and let it go back down again.

Mr. Robertson warms up now at 500 pounds, and was shown on television with Kristi Watts doing 1000 pounds."

Now since this is Celebrity Wellness WeekTM and I am fascinated (some would say obsessed) with Pat Robertson, there is no way that I could let this news pass without some sort of commentary.

Now let’s get to the obvious. My first thought was “There is NO fucking way that Pat Robertson could legitimately leg press 2,000 lbs. We’re talking about a fucking ton. That’s equal to one Mazda Miata … or eight Star Jones. This is utter bullshit.”

Not to toot my own horn, but I am pretty strong and have big tree trunk type legs, so I have a hard time believing that some dude who’s almost twice my age can lift more than me. Hearing Pat’s claims reminds me of the time when my old 50-ish year old manager at Qwest offered me unsolicited workout advice. Uhh, thanks again Hopkins.

My disbelief was shared by many others, including Clay Travis of CBS SportsLine.com who called the 2,000-pound assertion impossible in a column this past week> Travis wrote that the leg-press record for football players at Florida State University is 1,335 lbs, which is 665 pounds less than Robertson’s claim. Andy Zucker, a strength-training coach at Old Dominion University in Norfolk, said leg presses of more than 1,000 pounds represent "a Herculean effort, and 2,000 pounds is a whole other story."

But then I watched the video, which was both captivating and enlightening:



Now granted, it was only 1,0000 lbs. But still, it’s clear that that I (and others) owe Pat a big apology for questioning his leg strength and doubting his leg pressing aptitude.

But before I so apologize, I have a few observations about the video:

* Near the beginning of the video, Pat claims not to have worked legs for months but for some reason he’s inspired to load it up and just go for it. Wow! Imagine if he trained his legs regularly!

* Now at first glance, it appears that he’s barely moving the weight more than a few inches. And upon closer inspection, it … well, still appears like he’s barely moving the weight more than a few inches. So at least there’s no funny camera tricks going on here.

* You will also notice that Pat never releases the safety latches (and thereby allow the let the weight actually lower farther than 4 inches) and that he’s using his hands the hold time to steady his legs. What a pussy. Seriously, Pat, if you have faith in Jesus, I’m sure that he will spot you and keep the weight from crushing your legs and thereby crippling you. Of course, I’m hoping that that will actually happen to you.

* Where the hell did Robertson even find a machine that could hold 2,000 pounds at one time? The leg press machine at my gym only holds about 900 lbs., so whatever crazy contraption Robertson is working on has to be extremely hazardous. Having unprotected sex with Charlie Sheen has to be safer than working out on that machine.

* I’ve not seen Pat’s 2,000 lb. leg press, but I imagine that there are rockets or shock absorbers in it which assist with the weight. Either that or Pat prays to God, who somehow halts the laws of gravity until Robertson can finish his set. This strikes me as plausible because God strikes me as a big fan of power lifting.

After watching this, I still don’t know what the purpose is of this whole thing. To pimp his patented “power shake” that he markets on the CBN website? He…, uhhh, I mean God couldn’t possible need any more money. Was it to point out how utterly ridiculous and conceited Robertson is? If so, they’re already preaching to the choir on that one.

And yet, I have a hard time that Pat would lie about anything. Well, anything except for anything to do with religion and politics.

So the only thing I can conclude is that Pat is a huge fan of this blog and wanted to be recognized during this inaugural Celebrity Wellness WeekTM by leg pressing for Jesus.

Either that, or he’s just a completely insane, narcisstic freak that can’t help resist the urge to be in the limelight. You know, that could be it.

Tomorrow’s post - Ben Affleck should never play rugby.