Awwww...poor Chubby Cheeks.

I always did get the weird Guy-That-Used-to-Ride-My-Middle-School-Bus-But-Now-Works The-Sporting-Goods-Counter-At-WalMart-And-Really-Really-Wants-Me-To-Buy-A-Paintball-Gun vibe from him.

I just finished reading He's Just Not Into You. For the second time. Voluntarily.

I met the author, Greg, last year when he was on my show. After hearing him speak about it, I was like, "Dang, this guy wrote a HUGE best-selling book. Maybe I should read it and start smoking what he's smoking. If I smoked. Or something."

As many of you who have read it now know, the book could have been written by my 16-year-old brother. Obvious 101. You're too (blank) for him, he doesn't like you, do it sista, blahblahblah.

Unluckily, there probably won't be a book someday like it for guys. Number one, most guys don't read. Number two, those that do read...read books meant for girls. Because we're girly.

Options for the alternative to HJNTIY (aka the dude version):

She Thinks You're Scary, Bro
She Doesn't Know You Exist, Dude
She's Totally A Tranny
She's Got Issues, Yo
She's Totally Your Mom..Gross

I don't think there's ever been a more unwelcome follow-up in the history of follow-ups than this one.

Yes...the guys that remind me of the Mask dude.

Like the Challenger explosion, the OJ Bronco chase and the final episode of Boy Meets World, I will always remember where I was when I first saw that episode of I Want A Famous Face.

It was like watching a plane crash into a train and then being hit by a tank filled with sharks holding boomboxes blaring Celine Dion. Yes...grotesque.

My Dream Surreal Life 6 Cast:

Fred Durst
Annette Funicello
Long Duck Dong
Elle MacPherson
Mr T
Kimmy Gibbler
Alf

So...problem.

My new shower head comes up to about my shoulders (I am 6'5). Which means to take a shower I have to sort of limbo underneath.

I've never bought a shower head. But this one looks purty. And I think it adjusts in all directions. So if I want to swivel it up above the toilet, I can.

I just want there to be a deliver and install option.

Because I've yet to take the Home Depot Showerhead Installation clinic.

But I will.

But probably not.

One year ago today...I met the Conversation Finisher.

"conversation starters are funny things.

sometimes you're talking with someone, be that a girl, a guy or a phone sex operator, and you just want to kick the conversation into overdrive. or even the "danger zone," a la Top Gun.

"hey, you have a cat. i'm allergic to cats."

OR

"man, what about that bush guy? he's craaaazy."

OR EVEN STILL..

"wow, those breasts really bring out your blouse."

well, yesterday i heard what i will denote as a conversation FINISH-ER.

in a friendly conversation with 2 girls about plastic surgery, one (who will rename nameless) dropped the following conversation finisher.

"yeah i need some of that vaginal rejuvenation surgery. because my (name synonymous with cat) is really blown out."

and then, i puked in my mouth. just a little."


Miraculously, we are still friends. And she hasn't changed one bit.

So...I'm almost fully moved into my new apartment.

And it's all a blur.

The past four days has been sort of like that black and white scene in Kill Bill 1 in which all the guys attack her at once with blood/guts flying everywhere. Luckily, I've been karate chopping like a mofo to protect myself.

New apartment? Hiyah.

New job? Hiyah. Flying kick.

Three whole days without the internet? Hiyah roundhouse.

In that time, I was lucky enough to team up with Mr. Memphis for a white-hot rendition of Meat Loaf's classic, "I Will Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)." And for that, I am happy.

You join the Tarheel basketball team as I give them the pep talk of pep talks the day of their big matchup against Villanova...

"Don't you realize? The next time you see sky, it'll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the best of stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what's right for them. Because it's their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it's our time. It's our time down here. That's all over the second we ride up Troy's bucket."

Poetic.

Go Team.

One thing about living in the real world: there's never enough TP.

First I thought that it was a TP industry conspiracy against me. Seriously. You know when you get a fresh TP roll and you have to break the perforation to start it? Well...when I have to do that, I swear that the TP company rigs the roll that when I break the plys (or is it plies), my Popeye-strength fingers pulls off double the plys it's supposed to. So that means I'm using twice the amount of TP usually allotted. I'm sad and the TP dictator in his white ivory TP tower laughs at me from above. I try to explain this problem, in words, and people look at me with blank stares. So I know none of this paragraph makes sense.

But I'm over that. But not happy. Now I believe I have TP gnomes that creep through the air vents like the Fraggles. After they rob me of my TP happiness, they go back to Fraggle/gnome world to toss around the rolls like Koosh balls and play bad, but alluring, junkyard band music.

So...since I'm moving apartments, I needed boxes.

Common crisis, right??

Coming from the East Coast, I'm used to getting free boxes from the local Food Lion or the Piggly Wiggly on the corner. But that was when I was boxing up little boxes with little things like erasers and tiddly winks as a kid. (I moved around a lot).

Yesterday, I needed mega-Voltron boxes. Enough to build my own Trailerpark 'O Boxes like the poor kid from last weekend's Extreme Home Makeover.

So I bought boxes. And I had to put them into my car in the mother-trucking torrential downpour LA rain.

Now my car smells like wet boxes.

My life = ruined.

Creepy Sun Baby must really be shining down on me today.

A piece of television I actually worked on is being shown!!!

Premiere--This Sunday. March 26th. 10 p.m. VH1.

I guess they are then having a new episode air every night thereafter.

Don't tell my Southern Baptist grandparents. They might not appreciate the segments on anal sex, S&M, threesomes, etc.

"What...um...do I have idiot written on my forehead or something...this is my movie...not Dimension's movie...they picked me...remember me...and the paintings...i don't want to cast anyone else for the roles...i want my brother to be beerguy, my girlfriend to be hotstuff, my dad to be the dad, me to be the director and you to SHUT THE HELL UP...what the heck do you mean i don't know the direction the movie's going in...it's a monster movie with things coming out of doors and then they're afraid so they look behind them and maybe move a little to show that they're afraid...woody allen effed all his leading ladies...therefore i can cast my milkman as the bartender...i'm not very good at this talking thing...my brother's the best actor in the entire world."

I'm so freakin' happified Project Greenlight got Raymond Babbitt to direct. He is good at counting toothpicks. Why not.

Happiness is a warm gun filled with nostalgia blanks.

I've been making a running list of memorable TV shows from my youth. Here in 90210, we have this incredible place called The Museum of Television and Radio. Normally, I'm like, museum?? bore...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. But this place is special. They have a room in which you can go and watch an episode of pretty much any TV show ever. Like ever ever.

Last time I was there I viewed some Doogie Howser M.D., (the one where Doog gets a fashion makeover/earring), some Max Headroom and some You Can't Do That on Television.

And mere minutes ago, I remembered the name of a show that's been on the tip of my tongue for months now: Nickelodeon's Today's Special!!

"The show was about Jeff, a mannequin, who came to life when his magic hat was placed on his head and the magic words were said - "Hocus Pocus Alamagocus." This was because of the spell that Waldo the magnificent had cast on him, but to keep the spell from being broken Jeff was not allowed to leave the store. Each night, Jodie (the display designer), Sam (the night watchman), and Muffy (the mouse) would explain a basic topic of life to Jeff. The topic would usually have something to do with the title of that episode. As Jeff learned something new so did the children watching the show."

I kinda want to bottle up the feeling of reading that paragraph over and over and sell it on Ebay. No wonder I loved this movie so much a few years later.

Val: Mr. Walken, you can be my Wingman any time.

Walken: Wow. Thanks a lot, Val. I appreciate it.

V: I don't like you because you're dangerous.

W: Ummmm...okay. Can I go now?

V: You can call me Iceman.

W: No.

V: Yes.

W: No.

V: Yes.

W: No.

V: Please.

W: No.

V: How about Ice? Just Ice?

W: Okay.

V: (Raises hands triumphantly)

Do you know this guy? (nods to the right)

Probably not. But if you live in the metropolitan Los Angeles area, you are sure to know his billboards: LUXURY LIMOS $29!!! PRIVATE JETS WORLDWIDE $299!!

Every time I pass these billboards on the way to Arby's or, you know, the 99 cents store, I think, maybe...just maybe...they're talking to me. The guy that might have $29 in his wallet. The guy that just might have $299 in his bank account. I want a limo. I want a jet. Gimme. Gimme. I looked into Shuki and found the answer:

NO GIMME.

Mr. Shuki, through his company, Shuki International, is apparently a business that preys on the fat-walleted and near-sighted. And in my investigation, which included me getting out and looking at the billboards more closely, I found the teeny tinier fine print*

-Yes, you can rent a limo for $29. But that deal is only available Monday through Wednesday between 9 am and 2 pm. Unluckily, I never fly on a offday and wouldn't need a limo to go to LAX. And IHOP is down the street and I doubt anyone would be impressed if I rolled up in a stretch to get all Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity® on their pancakes. So...no whammy.

-You can rent a jet for $299. But, according to the billboard, that's only an "empty leg fare." I have no idea what that means. The rate of the jet without the gas, pilot and stewardess? Does it at least have an raft on board just in case I fly it myself but need some Indiana Jones circa Temple of Doom insurance? These questions should be answered on the website, Shuki-Baby.

-Best? I can rent a Lamborghini for $499 a day. But that includes a $20 a mile fee. If I'm putting down dough like that, there better be a trampoline and a full bar in the back.

*On the billboard, the teeny tinier fine print is probably more like 782 pt font using Microsoft Word. But, in comparison, 'tis tiny.

I wanted to use this space to review The Ring Two.

But no real words truthfully can describe it.

In a way that I believe is fitting.

So I will make one up:

Ughughpukeypuke.

"It's just too sexually oriented, you know, the way they're shaking their behinds and going on, breaking it down."

Bring it, Al.

Bring it.

Dear CBS,

Holy crap. Have you heard? About this?

You should really get over there and get the story. You know, for the TV movie.

Wait. You what?

Oh. Damn. Those sharks must be super pissed at you for casting non-union.

Good luck with that,
Me

In college, I experienced Leprechaun In the Hood during a Guinness-induced haze of St Patrick's Day-themed cinema. Hilarious. Top notch. Funniest movie of the year, IMHO.

Unfortunately, I hadn't noticed the public was blessed with a sequel until I discovered it while searching through Netflix today.

Immediately, I was wary.

Why mess with the brilliance of the original? Not even an Ice T cameo? But can Sticky Fingaz bring it?

Then, an angel came from the outfield to guide my mouse. Wait. Someone has left a Netflix member review. Maybe this person can assuage my concerns. I mean, he did give it five out of five stars.

"This may not be the scariest leprechaun movie, but it was the most enjoyable. it hade characters that you hoped would not be killed and the leprechaun was very funny and very cool, he is small but he does beat up a lot of tall people and he did make a good point at the end of the movie."

Brilliance.

Thank you "DC from IL8." Thank you.

Thank you Mark Hoxie.

Face it. They are alluring.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I keep changing my NCAA tournament brackets and I can't stop. Never ever.

I feel like I'm the guy in the scary movie saying, "It will never stop. Never." And someone needs to put their arm on my shoulder and say, "Yes. It will stop. We will make it stop. Together." And then we stand up to some uplifting score music and we take care bizness. And then helicopter right through or around a sunset. Or something.

But, seriously, it's not going to stop. Not until tomorrow when I have to leave be and watch as I crash and burn in another Yahoo tournament pool.

I don't have any secrets. Even though I follow college basketball pretty well, I can be lured by a pretty-sounding name (i.e. Villanova gets me every time) or numbers (almost always 5 over 12 but never 13 over anything).

And since my alma mater is in the tournament, I have to pick them to win.

But I'm scared. Or as my uncle would say, scurred.

Mommy, hold me.

I'm contemplating beating the hell out of my car to get on Pimp My Ride. I figured it's a crappy car. But it's not craptaculous enough.

Apparently, Kelley says that my trade-in value is, like, the equivalent of a few pitchers of beer. Not even good fancy beer. Lite beer.

So I figured I'd just cut out the middleman. Drink the pitchers of beer myself. Beat the hell out of the Taurus. Make a few homemade airbags. Handweave some seatbelts. Fill a pinata with fast food and explode it in the backseat. And...

Ta-Daaaa!!

I hate wearing my glasses.

Absolutely hate it. And my girlfriend says I look like Freddie Prinze Jr. when I wear them. Which only makes me want to wear them even less. I agree that She's All That was a mildy entertaining movie. But Summer Catch? Down To Love? Wing Commander? (shudders)

Anyhoo, apparently those who enjoy wearing their glasses can now purchase a new Japanese model by KT Optica that hooks into your ears. Which leads to the main question:

Where were you guys about 26 years ago when this idea was a whole heck of a lot cheaper (and less painful) than $190??

Thank you Naven R. Johnson. You are a true pioneer.

I wrote the entry below about a year ago. Even though I come off as a huge geek, today I kinda feel the same after reading this glorious new article in GQ magazine.
-------
dear representation of ms. jessica alba,

so, i was thinking about my celebrity sightings/meetings since i've been here. jennifer aniston, britney, christina, mr. t, topanga from boy meets world, 2 of the queer eye guys, harrison ford, etc....

and i asked myself, "self, who is the person that you haven't met yet but would give up your prize possession Oscar the Grouch figurine to meet?"

this was a huge question. i had to think about it, take a few meetings (i'm very important), think about it some more through careful number-crunching with an abacus...and then, it hit me.

i want to meet jessica alba. aka honey.

my good friend natalie knows this, was THIS close to pulling it off in a grandiose way for me last year and then it fell through.

WHY? you may ask would i want to meet l'Alba...

a) she's gratuitiously hot. like "even if she was a parapalegic i wouldn't care" hot.

b) she's #3 on my hollywood hotties list. #1 and #2 are untouchables at this moment.

c) and i think we would have very good conversation.....

in my head, our meeting would go like this...

ME: Hello Jessica, my love.

J: Get away from me sicko!

ME: But we have so much uncharted love territory to...chart. And love.

J: You're weird.

ME: Like, weirdly alluring. Sexy even?

J: No, like just weird.

ME: Thank you my sweet pet. And I love you.

J: I love you too.

(and then something PG-13-rated involving honey and breakdancing)

there you go. that's all i ask for. that's all i need. thanks for your consideration and for your eventual quick sentry of her home phone #.

with love,

me

Hearty congratulations (and a high-five) goes out to one of the best, if not the best, bloggers in Los Angeles, Tony Pierce.

His post "How to Blog" won the 2005 Bloggie for "Best Article or Essay about Weblogs."

You can read it (in all its totally awesome award-worthy-dom) by clicking on the link.

Tony's blog was one of the first I remember reading and thinking, "Man, this deserves top-of-my-favorites-list status." Then, through a friend, I realized we worked in the same building. His occassional references to working for the "XBI" carried a whole new meaning. I didn't want to break his cover so I never went down and said hi. Unfortunately, I was decommissioned from the XBI last year. But I still read up on Tony. He's good folk.

If hardback is more your thing, he's got a mos def recommended book, also called "How to Blog," that you can buy for yourself, your cousin or grandma. And, apparently, if you catch him in the right mood, he'll sign it for you.

Last night, Dateline NBC had a special expose on all the big fast food restaurants. And in the same way that Supersize Me made me want to go out and buy some McChicken Nuggets, the expose made me want to go out and get a Whopper, a Subway sandwich, and mainly, some tacos.

Yes, fast food restaurants are dirty. There's a chance that I might find a finger in my fries, a hair in my burrito or a rat in my fried chicken. But I don't care. It's cheap. I'm cheap. And as long as the taste is masked somewhat amongst the heart-attack inducing fat, heat that stuff up and add it in. Finger lickin' good.

In honor of NBC's expose, I decided to do my own. I call it, "List of Fast Food Items/Specials I Think Taste Good and Make Me Happy." It's very scientific.

10. Subway's addition of bread options
Was there ever a huge party commemorating this? 'Cause if there was, I didn't get the memo. That Jalapeno Cheese bread, I believe, is sold on the street by enterprising crackheads. It's that good.
9. Jack in the Box's new Chicken Ciabatta Sandwich
I haven't been back to JITB since someone played a cruel joke on me by saying their tacos were a.o.k. They lied to me. But this sandwich, even though I have yet to tastebud-molest it, looks hella-good. And I like the way its name slips off the tongue. "I eat my Ciabatta while dancing lambada with yo mama."
8. McDonald's Filet of Fish Friday
It looks disgusting as hell and it probably takes a day off my life each time I eat them. But it's $1 on one day of the week. And if they lined them up down Sunset Blvd. I'd probably gobble them up Pac-Man style.
7. KFC's bucket specials
I have a friend that swears his life on KFC. He buys a bucket and just puts it in his fridge every week. Like condiments. Just knowing it's in there makes you feel warm on the inside.
6. Burger King Croissanwiches
I'm ambivalent about most fast food breakfast items. If there was a hashbrown sandwich, that would be ideal. But if you catch me in the right mood, I will KILL YOU for a Croissanwich. Straight up. My only hope is that Hootie makes another oddly alluring BK song about my favorite breakfast sandwich.
5. The Fire Sauce at Taco Bell
La salsa es la bomba. Lo deseo al slather en todo que yo como y lo bebo tengo gusto de la sangre de bebés jóvenes. Si era extraño como ése. Pero no soy. Prometo.
4. The Double Whopper with Cheese
Saying you don't like the DWWC is like saying, "Hey, I don't like Samuel L. Jackson." Then I'd reply, "Well, why not?" "I don't know. I just don't. No real reason." And do you know why? 'Cause the burger is good. Damn good. And consistent. It started the whole "OMG, maybe people will like it if we make the burgers taste more like burgers" trend. I subscribe to that theory.
3. McDonald's #2 Two Cheeseburger Combo
This is like the Elvis of combos. No surprises. People always ask me, "Why don't you just get the Double Cheeseburger combo. Isn't it the same?" No. It. Is. Not.
2. "The Frankensteinization of Fast Food Restaurants"
I have a frequent dream that I'm lost in the desert. I've been out of food and water for days. I am literally crawling over a mountain looking for a quiet place to die. Then, literally a few feet ahead, a KFC/Taco Bell/Pizza Hut combo restaurant appears out of the blue. I look in my hand and I have an unlimited coupon. Best dream ever.
1. Wendy's Super Value Menu
There's not enough words to describe my love for the 99 cents menu that started it all. Dave Thomas was like a big chubby fast food messiah. He knew that sometimes I just wanted a 5 piece chicken nugget. Or a Jr Bacon Cheeseburger. Or a small Frosty. And he left it at that. No frills. Just food. Over the years, they played with the idea of a SuperBar and even increased the price of some lesser Super Value items. But my favorites still remain 99 cents. And for that, I am content.

Dang. Being nutritious is gross.



I've just realized this Carb Well cereal tastes horrible.

It tastes like cardboard.

I don't like cardboard.

Even if it tastes like cinnamon cardboard.

Still cardboard.

So. If you want the cereal, save your $$.

Eat your cardboard.

Cause, apparently, cardboard is low in carbs.

Hi Kate.

I've loved you since Win A Date With That Guy.

I see that you bite your nails.

I bite my nails, too.

Maybe we should bite our nails together. Lovingly.

I'll ask my g-f and get back with you.

Love and cuticles,
Moi

I once had a bunny.

He pooped a lot in his cage. He didn't talk to me, sing me cheery songs or thump his legs in a loving way that would make me giggle.

And he wasn't that cute.

After that, I didn't particularly care for bunnies.

But this is ridiculous.

I want this Crest Spinbrush - Firetruck Edition.

I've had a lot more free time lately and I'm trying to disperse it equally amongst things that need more TLC. Like my teeth. We had a conversation and they say they want a firetruck toothbrush. Bonus if it spins.

My teeth are friggin bossy but they're important to me.

Next up: a toothpaste that whitens, flourides and backtalks you when you squeeze it from the bottom and not the top.

EDIT: Take that last statement and flip it. Thx.

Did anyone else see the trainwreck of a show otherwise known as Kirstie Alley's Fat Actress last night??

Dear Lord.

Fat or skinny. Doesn't matter when you're painfully unfunny. Even bad shows, like Committed, have attempts at laughter in which I might chuckle or groan at their sheer audacity.

FA had nothing. Just uncomfortable non-laugh-track silence. The cameo by John Travolta made me very sad for Travolta. The cameo by Mr. Cooper from Hangin' with Mr. Cooper made me even sadder.

Just. Ugh. I'd rather go slip-sliding on a cheese grater than watch it again.

A happy birthday to my brother Adam today. He is 22.

As a kid, he was the punching bag to my million dollar baby. I've thrown him down a laundry chute, put him in a box and rolled him off a house, trapped him inside a pool table, turned his room upside down at least a dozen times, pushed him over an embankment on a sled, sat on his head, put Kool-Aid in his shampoo bottle and generally made his upbringing a living hell.

But I love him.

And he's still a huge butthead.

Happy Barfday Butthead!!

I watched American Idol last night.

Some of the girls are really bad. Like bad bad.

Then there is Amanda Avila. She's not a very good singer. But she sure is purty. So purty that I want to make multiple babies with her that will instantly become gratuitously hot and really tall supermodels. With sharp wits. We'll all rent an RV and drive around participating in beauty contests and streetball challenges. Every now and then, I will let one of the children participate in a Road Rules, a Real World or a Challenge. Then, it's back to the grindstone of winning money by being beautiful and really really tall. There will be singing, but only of Journey songs.

I have many dreams. But this is just the most recent and most sexy.