Frisco, Flop Marriage and Fanboy Funk

Unless I get this remote blogging thing figured out (and that’s looking doubtful), there will be no Tea W/Lemon until Tuesday because I am off to San Francisco for a fun weekend of Wondercon (Comic-con’s prettier, thinner and less fanboy-funky little sister), glory holes, and (best of all) berating and verbally abusing my dear friend Ron with “Why are you so dumb? I told you this would end in disaster but you are too hard-headed to listen. Good going stupes!” as he heads to divorce court after 5 months in a miserable marriage where they fought, non-stop, even before the I do’s. He’s a mess, and now I finally get to tell him so face to face (raised eyebrows, a nose locked in sneer as if something may smell, and lips pursed in disapproval are difficult to convey over the dreaded phone). As if that’s not enough, the forecast calls for rain! YES! Call me crazy, but I love when it rains in San Francisco because I get to wear my rain coat (possibly paired with a black turtleneck), for that extra snotty, plump and smug look.

Good day!

Maybe They Ran Out of Talent (Or Maybe I'm Just Ornery)

Not Finished Alert: I was going to do a little chart here with x=eliminated contestant, ?=hasn't performed yet, 1=performed and while sh*tty still not as sh*tty as everyone else. Sadly, I was unable to remember most of these contestants and am way too irritable to look the info up on the Idol web-site.

Guess how many of the American Idol performances I enjoyed on Wednesday's show?


NONE OF THEM!


I can only hope Ryan Seacrest announces, "Absolutely no one voted last night, not even your own families, because all of you were terrible. Yes, even that Adam guy, although you wouldn't have known it the way the female judges gave him a verbal deep-throating, as they fawned over him in a shameless display of womb-driven, school-girl hysteria. Although no one bothered to vote, we did receive one e-mail, from Spiteful-In-SanDiego, that stated he would have voted for the interesting lass that purred through Bette Davis Eyes, if only she had bothered to brush her yellow teeth. That's not necessarily a vote, so sorry but we're eliminating all of you tonight," to mercifully spare me from ever hearing from any of these people again. I confess, I'm operating on a ridiculously small amount of sleep (2.5 hours as S.A.M. is in town), so I may be a little hateful. For a quick but informative run down on the performances, go read Victor's re-cap here.

Perhaps They Would Have Had More Luck with "Chicken n' Cluckin" or "Gelatin and Gossip"

In case you missed it, Tapas n Topics is recreated with two of the original members with Kirsten Christian standing in for Marja and Secret Agent Man (yup)

Remember when Marja, Stavvy and Krazy-Kim completely embarrassed themselves, and brought shame upon their families, by trying to duplicate the success of our Sushi Night with the massive flop known as Tapas n’ Topics? If not, let me refresh your memory. Bitter because we would not let them interfere with the camaraderie and chemistry of our wildly successful sushi roulette (basically, they wanted to show up and cluck until our ears bled), they decided to start their own night where they would meet every so often and gab. Tapas N Topics launched in March of 2008 and (with a fat thud that continues to reverberate to this day) folded later that night. That’s right. One meeting was all they could muster.

In a desperate attempt to ward off mockery, Marja embarrassed herself further by ineffectively attempting to trump up the night on her blog! It was a charade of a blog post and ripe for ridicule. The opening line, Tapas N Topics was definitely a success. There were plenty of tapas, and even juicer topics. For those of you unaware, Topics N Topics (TNT) was born one evening out of spite, in retaliation to the boys only “Sushi Roulette” was as sad and as pitiful as the last, but at least I had the sense to snap the cute picture below." Delusion alert! Not only did the girls show up looking unusually tired and haggard (I quipped, “Marja, I didn’t know your camera had a setting for frumpy!”), but the photos betray the overall lifelessness of the evening, and shows they actually wrote “topics” on a raggedy ass bag. N.H.F. (our mockery ring-leader, as he was particularly upset with the “copycat” aspect of the event), Beefy-Jon and I spent a good month afterwards, relentlessly and ruthlessly mocking them, until the subject was beat to death and we moved on.

Had I remembered, I most certainly would have given a shout out in the Best of 2008 series for Biggest Flop! Instead, my memory was jarred Tuesday after Stavvy, Kirsten Christian, Krazy-Kim and myself had dinner with Secret Agent Man* at Café Seville. After eating, Stavvy (bless her heart for this gift), turned to K.K. and clucked, “Remember when we had Tapas n Topics here?” I gleefully cracked, “This is the place? This is where it happened?” then, in between laughing so hard I could no longer speak, I attempted to explain the whole affair, particularly the busted photos, to Kirsten Christian and S.A.M. After K.K. confessed that one of the topics was, “Like O.M.G., who was your first love?” I knew we had to recreate the calamity and snapped these photos. I could barely see as I fanned the tears of laughter from my eyes.

Good Day.

*Yes, after cutting a path of destruction that led to shattered friendships and broken spirits (mine); Secret Agent Man, the pinnacle of macho virility and benchmark of good bone structure, is in town, ever so briefly. Yes, as N.H.F. put it, he is still the world’s premiere attention whore, and yes, he is still ranting on nonsensically about the homeless.

Watchmen Reviews Trickle In

I suspect much goodness.

Ode to Smallville's Doomed Romance

I was actually going to write this little love letter to Smallville for Valentine's Day; but a burdensome schedule and a disinterested Editor In Chief ("Smallville? Uh, yeah. That needs to be written after you gush over my chili."), led to a stint on the back-burner. I feel compelled to share my thoughts on the conclusion of the doomed Clark-Lana romance off my chest, so here goes. I realize that, allegedly, no one I know confesses to watching Smallville, outside of Hot-Nerd Brian (How I love HNB. I want to take him behind the middle-school and get him pregnant. He is the only person on this earth that I can text, "Holy Moly! That was a spectacular episode of the new X-Men cartoon!" that will immediately text back, "Golly! Emma Frost really stepped up and kicked some ass!" without a fleck of embarrassment between us.)

When Smallville premiered waaaaaay back in 2001, they still had less than gorgeous cast-members (Those days are over, now we have Chloe and that's it) and almost every episode ended with Clark and Lana meeting at the Kent barn. Not for push-push or even making out, they would simply exchange dewy, doe-eyed glances in extreme close-ups that should only be used on the very pretty. For the viewer (ok...me), knowing that Clark was ultimately destined for Lois, made these longing glances almost unbearable (In an embarrassing aside, Mik walked in at the end of one episode and caught me on the verge of emotional collapse. He asked, "What the hell is wrong with you?" and I was forced to confess (dramatically), "The doomed romance between Clark and Lana is simply too much to bear!"

Only Smallville's female fans joined me in feeling this way. Fanboys would bombard dork message boards crying for Lana's blood, with the general complaint that she brought out the worst in Clark and turned him into a big sap with her constant brow-beating, hen-pecking and bitching about "secrets & lies" (Isolated from society, Fanboys are unaware that most relationships are built around brow-beating, hen-pecking and bitching). I believe it was this Fanboy pressure, that led to Clark and Lana splitting up, despite criminally adorable scenes like this from season 5, which shows Clark and Lana in the afterglow after having sex for the first time. After a series of mishaps that included Lana almost marrying Lex Luthor, Lana left town and Fanboys rejoiced, while I died a little inside.

But it wasn't over yet...Fanboys cried foul while I celebrated the return of Lana and her doe-eyes (Kristin Kreuk has been busy filming the lead role in Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li), this season for a three episode arc. Not only did she return; but she returned with super-powers (that's a whole other story involving a Luthorcorp scientist and painful experiments. In the interest of brevity, I'll gloss over it) so she and Clark could engage in super, frame-splintering and mattress mangling push-push! As I tried, in vain, to explain to the Blow-Up Doll, "Superman can never let go during sex. If it got really good to him, and he zoned out, started drooling and commenced to buckin', when he snapped out of it, he would discover his beloved was nothing more than eye-balls floating in a pool of pulp! Normal humans can't possibly withstand a Kryptonian pummeling!"

Lollipop alert!

Sadly, the doomed romance theme reared its ugly head again, thanks to a mean-spirited scheme by the jilted Lex Luthor, the super-powered Lana permanently absorbed some Kryptonite, to save the Daily Planet. Now, Clark and Lana can't get close or Clark will croak. She literally makes him sick! What a fitting ending (Their amazing, tear-jerker of a good-bye scene, complete with dewey eyed close-ups, and Clark risking death to kiss her, took place in the Kent barn! You can watch it here) and though it was devastating, I thought it was a wonderful conclusion to their tortured romance so I'm happy with it. Fanboys were not. Comments ranged from, "What are you saying Lois is his 2nd choice?" to "I'm glad that b*tch is gone. I hope she takes her ugly hair-cut and never comes back!"

And with that...good day.

5 Questions With T Presents: Cute But Dim Edition OR I'd Go With 'Brains' Dear

After discovering the speed and synergy of my Sony DV Camcorder with Windows Movie Maker™ , I decided to start a new feature titled, “5 Questions With T” a monthly feature where I ask 2-3 people (blog regulars, co-workers, etc.) the same 5 questions and then ruthlessly skewer their answers afterwards. I start with a gentle, "What is your favorite food?" to give them sense of comfort, but end with "Are you a top, bottom or versatile?" Due to the short processing time (The interview literally takes two minutes, this includes prep time. Then, uploading takes 20 seconds and the cheap, raggedy ass title mere seconds!), it will help me get out a lazy blog, when I've nothing else to talk about, so the Editor in Chief will stop nagging me.

Emo-Elf

Emo-Elf, Angela the blow-up doll's arch-nemesis and town pariah (he's universally loathed due to dead-beat behavior and selfish shenanigans), was running around looking brainless when I barked, "Emo-Elf! Get over here, make yourself useful for once, and be my first test subject for 5 Questions with T!" Without asking any questions, or combing his hair, or even looking in a mirror (!!!), he said "Sure!" and fearlessly plopped down. This is very impressive to me because if someone asked to film me, I would quip, "Sure! Just come back in a month after I've whittled this double-chin down a bit!"

Here's what I learned from this test-run.

• Before the 5 questions, I asked, Emo-Elf, "Don't you want to put a shirt on?" He answered, "No, I'm good!" I won't allow this again as it looks like the intro to amateur twink porn(Emo-Elf, like his arch-nemesis Angela the Blow-Up Doll, hates fabric and is always walking around with as little on as possible. Emo-Elf, like his arch nemesis Angela the Blow-Up Doll; will also yelp, "I'm cold!" since the heat has not come on once all year-I haven't even lit the pilot light on the heater-due to recession based fears. I give them both the same answer, "Then put some clothes on!")
• I giggle. It is essential that the interviewer NOT giggle. After watching this, I decided to stay completely quiet while interviewee is speaking.
• My Southern accent really comes out when I pronounce, "Versatile" I must watch this.
• Emo-Elf is self aware but confident. He confessed to me later that he only said "8" in the interview so as "not to look like a complete a**hole!"
  

Twin

My next subject was Twin, who lived up to her "Best Skinny-Fat Girl of 2008" by serving a savory, mouth-watering shrimp dish right before this interview. I'm glad I had something in my stomach, as low-blood sugar would have led me to weep openly at Twin's on-camera fragility. As vulnerable as the Emo-Elf was confident, Twin appears tender, out of her element, and gripped by fear while obviously thinking, "Oh Dear. What the hell is he going to ask me?" I wanted to stop filming and hold her.

Here's what I learned from this second session:

• While, "I wear my hair DOWN for hip-hop!" Twin may appear to be a top, she is as delicate as a Faberge™ egg.
• Total time for set-up and interview was three minutes tops! I love brevity.
• I can't stop giggling. I must work on this.
• Subject seemed unharmed by questioning afterwards, and immediately snapped back to the spunky, "I wear my hair DOWN for hip-hop!" spitfire I much prefer over her demure, frightened mail-order bride demeanor.
  

Angela the Blow Up Doll

I asked the same five questions of Angela so I need to post a DIABETIC ADVISORY: This interview is filled with so much sweetness it could lead to coma...or at the very least, a sore tooth. While her answer to, "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" may lack ambition, it will cause a round of "awwwww" to fans of romantic comedies and serialized romance novels.

Here's what I learned from this go-round:

• Angela is a good sport and barely bats an eye when I call her a blow up doll.
• Total time for set-up AND interview was two minutes.
• I couldn't find the five questions so I went from memory. It wasn't easy.
• Angela is as sweet-spirited on film as her arch-enemy the Emo Elf is confident. I needed this in order to continue this series, as I almost aborted the entire segment after dealing with Twins quivering delicateness.

Okay, that's all for this month. Join me next month when I attempt to corral the raspy trio of Stavvy, Krazy-Kim, and Kiersten Christian, for a 5 Question rasp-off.

Good day.

In order to catch up at the office, I really needed to work over-time this past weekend. Thanks to a field trip with the Griswolds, your editor-in-chief's birthday and the surprise, completely unexpected return of a hot, but very very loud and emotionally abusive out of town guest (I'll fill you in on all of it later), I did not. So of course, now I'm stressed and can't find 6 minutes to watch this "Musicals Are Back" clip from last night's Academy Awards (Which I stubbornly boycotted, despite my love of Hugh Jackman, due to the boring and geriatric-ass, stupid Academy members robbing Christopher Nolan of a Best Director nomination, and thus win, for the wildly ambitious, The Dark Knight. I wish I could get over his snub but I either can't or won't). Once the burdens of deadlines and Dumb-Judy have lifted, I'll devour this clip that features Hugh Jackman, Beyonce and some non-threatening young adults from High-School Musical, singing, dancing and skipping about. I'll consider this an olive branch from the antiquated, increasingly irrelevant and tired academy.

Join me tomorrow for Outrageous Local Gossip and other crap.

Good Day.

Letter from the Editor: I like my scrotum and would like to keep it please‏

(Your Editor in Chief finally stopped living in "Past Glory" long enough to submit his monthly, Letter from the Editor where he boldly tackles the Chimp ownership epidemic. Let's encourage him with positive reinforcement so we can get these up to a twice monthly frequency.)

Hear about the Connecticut woman who had her face ripped off by her friends pet chimp? You can listen to the 911 in this video.

Apparently this woman has had the chimp 14 years, and was accustomed to sleeping with him. I wondered, how many people have chimps as pets, surrogate spouses, or a simple best buddy. Wasn't this practice limited to those with more money than sense like Michael Jackson? (ever notice how after he ditched his chimp, he moved on to young boys for company?) Apparently there are 500,000 chimps in the US, and only 100,000 of them are in Zoos and Wild Animal Parks. The other 400,000 are pimped out to children's party companies, talent agencies, side show circuses, and people's private homes! It doesn't take much time to figure out why having a chimp as a pet is not a good idea, but I'll summarize the top 5 reasons why for you.

1. They live 35-40 years. What a burden.
   
2. They may be cute as a baby, but are rebellious as adults. Michael Jackson said it himself, when his cute little chimp hit adolescence, its started talking back! At some point you will not be able to control your chimp, so if you are looking for an alpha in your life, this may not be a deterrent, so please read on.
   
3. They may make you feel stupider than you are. The Connecticut chimp got out by stealing the owner's key and opening a door! The owner called her friend to help her get the Chimp back in the house and that's when all hell broke loose.
   
4. They will never be house broken. In the wild, chimps live in trees and sh*t as they please on anything and everything below them. Dogs and their ancestors live in dens, and know to excuse themselves before relieving themselves. chimps don't give a f*ck and never will. Who wants to change diapers daily for 35-40 years?
   
5. You'll get attacked, bet on it. A chimp is 10 times stronger than a human, so their idea of play could land you in the hospital, and their idea of making you their b*tch will probably kill you, or at best, leave you with no nuts and half a face. The male chimp's favorite mode of attack is ripping off their opponent's scrotum. You can imagine how effective this is in the wild. For those of you without scrotums (Women, T, gaping bottoms) Chimps will find something else to rip off, most likely an ear or your nose.
   

The law breaking Chimp, shortly after its arrest.

The Connecticut chimp was taken into a police car (under arrest?) but started to get fussy so they blasted that fool.

Love It So Much I'd Sit On Its Facebook

I have a confession. I love Facebook. In the words of Marja, I love it so much I want to take it out back and get it pregnant. I know, I'm stunned too. Especially since I hated tool and tramp driven Myspace with a passion! Facebook provides a daily thrill of "Hey! I haven't heard from you since College! Good Lord you've gotten fat!" that you just can't find anywhere else. It has become one of the web-sites that I check at least once daily, Mon-Fri, no matter how busy I get. It's just so much fun. This morning alone, I was treated to a close-up of Stavvy's arm-pit in her new profile pic, discovered that MTV hijacked a question , during a round-table interview with the grieving Idol widower, from E.H.S.O.D.G. member and entertainment reporter, Victor Balta, and then gave him no credit for it (or for having good hair), and I also continued to mock your Editor-In-Chief for proudly continuing to display a gloriously cheese-tastic, toolish, deceptive and shirtless picture (that I like to call, "Past Glory," because his physique hasn't looked like that for many a moon), without a hint of shame or regret.

Past Glory

The best part about Facebook is that its finally my turn to take take take! I seldom comment, have uploaded only two photos (simply to be stingy), swiftly remove links when someone "tags" me in a photo, and never, ever give status updates. You heard me. While I have no shame in admitting that I rabidly soak up unimportant trifle like, "Krazy-Kim is feeling great after a night of wine and popcorn. WOO HOO...it's Friday!" and that Perv and R. Kelly are now friends via the People You May Know tool. I'll actually give up pizza (aint ever gonna happen) and go on a diet before you ever catch me participating in the ego-driven and self-absorbed, "25 Things About Me" that "me me me" people like D3 so readily put out there in Facebook-land (and put it out there he did, his 25 things was moving, funny and very well-written. I've known D3 for years and he bores the ever lovin' sh*t out of me, but after reading his 25 things I realized that he may be somewhat interesting...or more likely, just a good writer).

D3 beams with pride at already in love with liquor, tot.

Anyway, you'll get nothing from me. I am surrounded by so many strong, controlling personalities on a daily basis, that I need the release of Facebooking because it puts ME in the driver seat. For example, simply out of spite, I once made someone wait one month before accepting her "friendship" invitation, simply because I don't really like her. It was juvenile and passive aggressive behavior at its most absurd, and I reveled in glee and soaked up joy at every moment of it!

Don't judge me.

The Visitor: Countdown of Dread

Here's an interesting photo of Mik and Nemo's buddy, El Toro (I couldn't make this sh*t up) that will be visiting, from Italy, next month. Normally, the thought of visiting, virile, shirtless men that wield power-tools would be cause for celebration. This is the exception.


Nemo inquired, "Will you be so kind to host El Toro when he visit for few days next month? He like to cook always on the barbecue and stays in underwear." Instantly suspicious, as this is my life, and half dressed men with a hankering to barbecue don't just fall out of the sky, I probed, "Why can't he stay with you?" Nemo hesitated, then answered, "I no feel like. He will probably like to see the prostitutes, whores and transvestites. He is drunk always and is crazy. You may like." This was followed by a stern, "No" but that "No' was preceded by extreme profanity that I strung together so beautifully it was like poetry.

There may have been a time when I would have looked forward to the thrill of an unknown visitor with a crazy reputation (especially one with a fit physique); but after dealing with the ongoing nightmare known as Legolas the Emo-Elf for months now (less sensitive and more cunning than initially suspected), my sense of humor needs a break.

Good Day

Maybe They Ran Out of Talent (Or Maybe I'm Just Spiteful)

Have mercy they blew. That brother at the bottom shamed his family, me and the whole nation with his sorry rendition of Michael Jackson's Rock With You. The gorgeous girl above him was even worse with her sloppy take of the Police's Every Little Thing. It was so awful she actually began to look ugly. It was, quite possibly, the worst Idol performance ever. If it were up to me she would be incarcerated for a month, and then stoned to death.

Guess how many of the American Idol performances I enjoyed on Tuesday's show?

NONE OF THEM!

That's right. Zilch! Quite frankly, I don't like you either*. I used to like the grieving widow guy (The tragic, tear-jerking tale of how his wife kicked the bucket, just four weeks before his audition, was moving the first five times I heard it-but now it seems like an unfair advantage), but then the judges proceeded to pimp him (after his sappy version of Mimi Carey's Hero) with the kind of enthusiasm that should be reserved for the second coming of Jesus Christ. Sorry but it wasn't all that. At least he was into it. In the words of mother loathing, misogynistic, midget rapper, Eminem: You better lose yourself in the music, the moment you own it, you better never let it go! You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow. This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo.

*Full disclosure: I watched Idol from behind my lap-top as I furiously reviewed reports that had been screwed up by dumb, Dumb-Judy. I'm over-worked, under-sexed, and spiteful. Perhaps this has something to do with me hating Idol and you.

Examples In Owned

I love this video. It inspires me to perfect my craft in springing the perfectly unpleasant and deadly surprise.

Fun fact: I originally wanted to call this post, "Surprise (insert offensive word that begins with n here)!" But my cousin Elizabeth (in college now so becoming a politically correct and preachy gas-bag) gets bent out of shape at its use. She was sooooo much more fun before she continued her education, so I'm second guessing my insistence that she do so.

Chili, of The Award Winning Variety

This is what Award winning chili looks like when paired with a moist piece of corn-bread and plopped on baby's lap (Actually, my family calls that "sweet" or "white-people "bread; as authentic southern corn-bread is dry as a scone and NOT sweet. In my opinion, authentic southern corn-bread is NOT very good when compared to sweet, moist corn-bread with flecks of bell-pepper and a buttery top.)


This is what award winning chili looks like after the dust has settled and baby prepares to burp. I confess, since this was the recipe that the Editor In Chief concocted to win a chili cook-off; I was extra skeptical, as I figured that was enough smoke blown for this year, and thus judged each and every bowl I wolfed down (3 total, don't judge me, he) with harshness and severity. Hoping to find something (anything!) to bitch about. Finally I did...and that was, "Why didn't you make more?" As a courtesy, I've copied the Editors recipe and placed it in the comments section (It originally came in the form of an e-mail, so ripe with excessive wind-baggery that I'm not sure if I have enough ink left in my toner cartridge to print it). When I informed the Editor that I would try this recipe at home, he said (fearing f**k up), "Why don't I help you with that?" I'm almost embarrassed by my response of, "That's great! Can we double the recipe?" but I don't have the physique, or time, for shame.

Good day

What Time Is It?

Here are some clues....

That's right heathens, it's crunch-time.

According to Wiktionary,

Crunch-Time

1. (slang) A critical period of time during which it is necessary to work hard and fast.

According to the smart alec's over at Urban Dictionary*,

Crunch-Time

2. The interval of time immediately before a project is due, when it becomes apparent that the schedule has slipped and everyone is going to have to work like dogs to try to complete the project in time.

Needless to say, I'm swamped and stressed. If my mind is still intact at 2PM. I'll be back.

Good Day.

* Despite deadline burdens and work-load woes; I still had to burst out laughing at Urban Dictionary's first definition of crunch-time:

1. Crunch time is what you say to a women before laying down a serious smashing.

"When i put my blue suit on, you might as well call me the captain, cause it's crunch time!"

Blogger Flip-Flops; Declares Jate End Game

Just last week I mooed that that I thought Sawyer and Kate were the end game on Lost. Then I saw these photos from Entertainment Weekly and immediately flip-flopped.

I was going to write about Wednesdays episode of Lost but editorial pressure has forced me to post these photos and then move on. I will say it was reaaaaaaaaally good and someone went belly-up! I also think Sawyer and Juliet are going to start having sweaty island relations, thus freeing Kate for Jack. I think.

Speed Blogging B-Day Abruptly Aborted

I'm perilously back-blogged so I was going to try something new, Speed Blogging. I was going to identify each person in a picture, from Stavvy's birthday celebration at Jack's, and then type first thing that came into my mind and move on. Let's use a few examples from the photo above

4) Stavvy's older brother Vasoline. My ally in getting Stavvy calmed down and then knocked up.
5) Vas's wife Sara, image conscious, glamour-puss that popped out a baby and effortlessly shook off pregnancy weight. I can see sense of dread in her eyes now that they are trying again.
6) Brother-James. Hot and always horny big brother of Beefy-Jon. Talks in mystical humbo-jumbo and spiritual gobblygook so sometimes I tune him out, while he's blathering on about the astral plane, and just focus on his good bone structure.


As you can see, this shoot from the hip, speed blogging was ripe for disaster. I get into enough trouble via regular blogging!



For example, for #6 April, I was going to write, I was delighted when she arrived with two hunky hillbillies from East County, or as I like to call them, 'Rough-n-Rednecks" (a spin-off of Rough-Neck Brotha), it was a nice contrast to the pretentious, self-absorbed crowd at Jack's. I was stunned to discover one was her brother, the other her boyfriend! I can't say that! I have to see these people again! I just can't run around insulting East County, no matter how many alarming, "lets get sloppy drunk and shoot our shotguns off in the backyard" events that Krazy-Kim attends (and gets injured).


Speaking of Krazy-Kim

Normally I would issue an impromptu Propriety Report here, but Krazy-Kim is actually doing her part for her country, by providing pleasure, via writhing, bumping and grinding atop a Navy Seal, so I'm not mad at her and will overlook this....indiscretion.

Trio of Terror?

Before Beefy-Jon left for his top secret mission, he laid down this decree to Stavvy; "Thou shall not hangeth out with both Angela The Blow Up Doll or Ashley the Lawyer at the same time; for all thou art packed and stacked; and I fear that all thine combined milk shake shall bringeth too many boys toeth thine yard!" I'm not kidding. I love me some Beefy-Jon like a Sanford and Son marathon; but sometimes (ever so rarely) he's a mess. Angela is too busy planning Mik's dinner for trouble; while Ashley (love her new bitchy bangs) is too busy working at Universal Studios AND dating some guy from the Italian Olympics team (I grilled him and found out he was born here in the U.S. and speaks NO Italian) for scandal. Instead, B.J. should have decreed, "Thine shall spend only so much time at downtown dive bar Tivoli, where the boozeth runneth freely!"

Special Guest Star: Homecoming Steve

Then: Britney Spears alert!

When I showed your editor-in-chief this photo of Steve, right after he was crowned Homecoming King back in College; he barked, "Steve was pimp!" Indeed he was.

Now: Homecoming-Steve with the birthday girl and his home-coming queen for life wife.

When I inquired about his homecoming victory, Steve confessed, "I was too drunk to even realize what was going on! The next day I was like, 'Did that really happen?'"

Yet he still pulled off that photo....PIMP!

Ok, thanks for joining me for this aborted attempt at speed blogging a birthday and good day.

They Should Call it Dave and Busted.

Hot-Nerd Brian, his sidekick (bottom) Jeremy, and Marja display a massive amount of tickets won at Dave & Busters, which ultimately led to a massive amount of nothin!

Against my will and better judgment, Brians both Hot-Nerd and N.H.F., forced me to mingle with the gang-bangers and derelicts that are the patrons of Dave & Busters (I heard through the gossip-vine that there was actually some kind of drive by shooting last year. I avoid places that attract drive-by shootings with the same grit and determination I use when avoiding The Natalie Vista). Marja eagerly joined us, as she loves this kind of stuff (after all, she’s the woman that dragged me to a dive bar where she proceeded to play Rock Band, ON STAGE!!! I still shudder at the very memory of it. My cries of, “But that’s not a guitar, it’s a video-game controller, dear!” were ignored by Marja, and all the other patrons.) Upon entering the game-room-after a trip through the dumb bar-I was horrified, right out of the gate, by the odd, musty smell that rivaled the fan-boy funk found at comic conventions. Then I was nearly bowled over after I glanced at the gross and greasy, heavily used machines (I recoil in agony to think about how many people, several of whom had recently engaged in masturbation, have touched those handles. And there I was without my hand-sanitizer gel), and by the arcade games with primitive graphics (no wonder the knuckle-dragging Neanderthals and meat-headed crowd love the place).

I allowed myself a bit of hope, after I stumbled upon this 6 person, competitive trivia machine. Despite my surroundings and the dumb crowd; the tide suddenly turned in favor of a (gasp!) possible return visit (which was later squelched). With the almost as nerdy as me Marja on my left; tools and meat-heads gasped in astonishment (people as good looking as I are usually too self absorbed for trivia) as we dominated the game as only people who really need to get out more could (I may know nothing of world affairs, geography, history or anything worthwhile; but I DO know that Dawnn Lewis starred as Jaleesa on the Cosby Show spin-off, A Different World, and that should count for something). I’m not kidding, so many “tickets” (which are redeemed for so called “prizes”) poured out of my machine that eventually an attendant had to come replace them. When I was finished; I eagerly entered the prize zone, with over 1,300 tickets, thinking I was going to get this:

HA! A stank, low-quality rice-maker was going for 4,000 tickets (mon dieu!) so I wasn't even close! I only had enough tickets to get a stupid, raggedy ass t-shirt* and a sorry ass pack of dumb, old ass gum. Pitiful.

*Despite my bitching, I actually liked the shirt. But, since this is my life, even that was obliterated as after Angela the Blow-Up Doll turned it into a baby-T after she washed it in hot water and then threw it in the extra hot dry cycle. I screeched, “Angela! This is a mid-riff now! I can barley fit into it!” Mik looked up from his book long enough to interject, in a weary, somewhat accusatory tone, “I’m not surprised. She’s done that to several of my shirts.” I did love Angela’s rebuttal, “Oh. That’s not my fault, the dryer’s too hot.”

By Decree: I'm Talkin' Tocatins (Against My Will!)

When I saw this promo pic, I told N.H.F., "The cast is BUSTED this year!" He assured me this was just bad photography because only so many uglies will be allowed to Outwit, Outlast and Outplay. He was confident there would be plenty of unbridled and juicy jugs for him, and lantern jaws for me.

Against my will and better judgment, this blog will chronicle this season’s pre-show picks for the remaining Survivor die-hards. I realized I was over Survivor when I began writing this dumb blog and asked myself, “Who won Survivor last season? Wait, what the hell happened last season?” The only thing that came to mind was how fit and virile host Jeff Probst appeared while donned in a fitted, black sweater during the reunion show. So, of course, I began to prepare another “TV Show I Used to Watch Religiously” casket, as I planned to bury Survivor in the same graveyard as other recent DVR cast-offs like Big Brother and The Young and the Restless.

98-lb Neil didn’t think so.

He, like your lazy editor-in-chief, still enjoys the hell out of the show, and is such a control freak, that he'd program my DVR for me if I tried to remove Survivor. He’s planned a "New Baby Viewing" and Survivor:Tocatins kick-off tonight at his and (perpetually) Knocked-Up Einat’s spacious new home. He coerced N.H.F. to make his award winning chili (Like Perv, 98 shuns spices and prefers bland, unimaginative and flavorless food, so I pray the chili recipe has not been altered from its original, award winning state), and strong-armed me into making bland home-made cupcakes. You would swear something big was going on; like the Super-bowl or Top Model finale. Anyway, here are our pre-show picks. I was happy to discover ONE contestant of particular interest…..


98 picked Joe from Texas. He appears to be the love child of Ben Affleck and D3, as he has Affleck's dreamy bone structure and strapping physique, but carries the burden of D3's seven finger forehead.


N.H.F. picked Debbie, a high school principle. He reasoned, "Total MILF, looks half her age, has a no nonsense job. Will go far."


Knocked-Up Einat chose Brendan. This guy is already a millionaire after selling his company, Bear Naked Granola, to Kellogg's as part of a $122 million dollar deal ( I'm currently boycotting Kellog's, due to them dropping Michael Phelps. Do not f**k with Phelps. He was quite the busy-bee when it came to winning gold medals, so if he wants some weed, it should come with a blow-job and be rolled with the contract of a new endorsement deal, that can be used later to smoke blunts). When I mentioned that Brendan looked blowable; a skittish Knocked Up Einat quickly back-pedaled and clucked that had nothing to do with her selection. Mmm-hmmm. I suspect 98 freely distributes back hands at home, and will look tonight for any signs of physical abuse.

HnH (the only person who's correctly chosen a winner around here, after his choice of the gay Mormon two or three seasons back) chose cattle farmer J.T., who states, "Deer, turkey, wild hog, coyote-everything you're allowed to hunt in Alabama I've hunted," he says. "I'm a country boy."

I chose Tamara "Taj" Johnson-George out of a sense of obligation. Tamara made up 1/3 of early 90's, snaggle-toothed singing sensations, SWV (Sisters with Voices). SWV provided me with so much enjoyment (back when I was capable of actual human emotions), with I'm So Into You and Weak; I simply can't root against the woman. While writing this, I took ten minutes to watch those videos AGAIN on You Tube. You should too (Weak is here, Into You is here), as they still hold up over 15 years later. Plus, this gives me hope: "There's a stigma that comes with being married to an NFL player," says the wife of former Tennessee Titan Eddie George. "People think we're pampered. But I'm not. I'm a 5'9", 190-pound tomboy. I'm gonna tear 'em up when I get out there." Go Taj!

Bonus Blogging: Models Snubbed! Maybe we thought they'd be better suited for Top Model.

I'm a model...

None of us had much faith in, 24 yr old San Diego resident, Sydney. This model laid out her strategy, which is actually strikingly similar to one I would adopt, as she clucked "I plan to make alliances with the athletic guys. They are cute and they'll be good at the challenges." Bless her heart.

I'm Miss Ohio 2003 and like to smolder. Oh, and I'm a lawyer.

Candice, who describes herself as Actress, Model, Beauty Queen, is no bubble brain and actually graduated from Northwestern University School of Law and passed the bar exam. Still, I think the fact that she was crowned Miss Ohio 2003 AND had a small role in the 2006 comedy Beerfest, in which she appeared nude, are equally impressive achievements.


I'm a model and entitled.

Sierra is another local model (she graduated from Carlsbad High, but now lives in Santa Monica). She didn't even try out for Survivor, she was recruited while at a taco shop, this entitle princess could care less about the million dollar prize! She sniffs, "Money comes and goes, if I'd saved when I was just starting out, I'd be a multimillionaire by now!" The entitled lass, who turned down a Tommy Hilfiger campaign to do the show, also kept it real by dropping this nugget, "You have to start early in this business because by 25, you're done."

Amen.

Back Blogged & Burdened Presents an Alternate Blog: This is Why You're Fat, or Rather, When People Stop Giving a F***

The Double Bacon Hamburger Fatty Melt

While you're waiting for the over-worked me or our lazy editor in chief to blog; you should check out this blog here. Titled, This Is Why You're Fat-Where Dreams Become Heart Attacks. Selected by my beloved Entertainment Weekly as its site of the day; This is Why You're Fat chronicles some of the grossest, fattening meals in existence; and you can submit your own entries. It's NOT for the faint of heart. I'm so busy I was only able to glance at the first three pages, but here are some highlights. Somewhere...Mik is weeping at these displays of gluttony and excess.

Sloppy Joe On A Krispy Kreme

Mega Double Stuff Oreo

Bacon Shell Tacos (take out the eggs, and I'll bet Marja would eat this!)

Deep Fried Coca Cola (AHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHA!)

Giant Breakfast Burrito - A seven pound breakfast burrito stuffed with potatoes, eggs, onions, and ham bits, lots of cheese on top and smothered in red chile.

The Tombstone Deep-Dish Pizza vending machine. Truth be told, unlike the other disgusting things on this post, I simply don't think that's such a bad idea. Don't judge me and I won't judge you. Now bugger off.