Tuesday, January 11, 2005

We feelin' you, playah Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

This just in:
The election of the new Palestinian president Abbas brings possibly better relations between Israel and Palestine and renewed hope for peace in the Middle East. Unfortunately, there isn’t any indication if it will help bring Brad Pitt back together with Jennifer Anniston.

How wet is it?
Man did it rain this weekend. There were cars that were floating like a personal check from Anna Nicole Smith.

In Beverly Hills plastic surgeons were injecting Botox into people to get rid of the wrinkles from being pruney from the rain.

In Beverly Hills, women were getting larger breast implants just for floatation devices.

To give you an idea how much snow their getting in the Sierras, the snow is mounting in Lake Tahoe faster than the evidence against Robert Blake.

No, it was "S.O.S."
There was an embarrassing moment at the White House when President Bush was informed of the Palestinian election results. When told that Abbas won, Bush said; “Great. Did they celebrate by singing “Dancing Queen?”

Call now
Brad Pitt and Jennifer Anniston are breaking up. Everyone who is excited about this information, there is a toll free number you can call: 1-800-U-Got-0-Shot.

We kid Chachi
Scott Baio is set to star in an HBO sitcom where he plays a 40-year-old who moves in with a 20-year-old. I think it’s called: “Dude, Where’s My Dignity?”

A mooning Moss gathers no stones
In a new record for classless self-promotion, Minnesota Viking’s Randy Moss pantomimed “mooning” the Green Bay crowd. Bad news for the Minnesota Vikings. After the game, Randy Moss’s afro tested positive for steroids.

Randy Moss’s afro was not only the biggest afro in sports ever, but when he put his helmet on, the hair that popped out of his ear holes were the second and third biggest afros ever.

The press is all over the Randy Moss pantomimed “mooning” of the Green Bay crowd. “Newsweek” “Time” “Sports Illustrated.” Every magazine is going on and on about it. Except “Rolling Stone” magazine because, as everyone knows, “Rolling Stone” blathers no Moss.


Since you asked:
No lie, when I was "selling" word processing computers in Santa Barbara after college my territory was Ventura to the north to Westlake Village south. Every day I had to drive by this tiny little beach town that looked - not to sound too Queer Eye - enchanting. It wasn't directly on the Ocean, the state beach was just west of the 101, so just East of the highway was this little village with amazing character. It was clearly one of the last of the surfer/artist/hippy enclaves in the area. Houses ranged from very nice to rusty old school busses, all in a grid of a few blocks. There was a restaurant, I think, and Santa Barbara/Montecito/Summerland was just to the North.

Each day I drove past it from my house on Anapumu street in Santa Barbara I would think: "Man, what a cool place to live. One day I gotta go apartment hunting in there." And, of course, each time I drove past it, I would forget all about it.

Until today I didn't know what that great little village was called. Sadly, now I do. La Conchita, the town that was just buried under a sea of mud.