Saturday, March 12, 2005

We got our weekend on up in here, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Not proud of this one

Last week Michael Jackson showed up in hour late to court. It turns out Michael had been in downtown Los Angeles and he got caught in the ten. Or was he eleven?

Putting the BS in CBS
Now that Dan Rather is gone, to boost their ratings, CBS is trying to make their news more exciting. For example, whenever they report on the Michael Jackson trial, the anchor has to wear pajama bottoms.

To make CBS News more exciting, four words: Foreign Correspondent Carrot Top.

One night to spruce up the excitement on CBS News they are going to give Andy Rooney a queer makeover.

No Jack Jacko
Michael Jackson may be in serious financial trouble. How much trouble? Bubbles the chimp may have to break out his old accordion and go back to work.

How bad is it? Michael may actually have to sell some of his old body parts on eBay.

Michael may have to fire his personal umbrella holder and buy one of those goofy umbrella hats.

Last week the younger brother of Michael Jackson’s accuser testified. Or as Michael calls the younger brother of his accuser: the one that got away.

Sold separately
Delta airlines announced to cut costs, they are doing away with pillows. So now you’re going to have to pay extra if you want head-lice.

Jacked up
I still can’t get over Michael Jackson wore pajamas to his child molestation trial. That is some crackerjack team of advisors that guy has. “Sure, go ahead, wear pajamas to a trial that could send you to prison for having sleepovers with kids, that’s a great idea.” Who is his advisor, R. Kelley?

Michael Jackson wore pajamas to his molestation trial? Afterwards, why not have Michael offer candy to some children he doesn’t know? That’s also wonderful idea.

Stewing with Martha
As you know, Martha Stewart is serving her sentence at her $40 million 153 acre estate. That should straighten her out. If they really wanted to punish Martha, they should sentence Carrot Top to five months on her estate. “Hey Martha, look, I stole this Neighborhood Crime sign.”

Shhhh and P.U.
According to a law in San Luis Obisbo, librarians can throw somebody out of the library if they smell bad. How embarrassing. “Excuse me sir, you’re going to have to leave.” “But I didn’t say a word.” “No, but your armpits are screaming.”

One of the “Tonight Show” guest comedians was Carrot Top. Did you see how buffed he is? Now they are going to have to start testing comedians for steroids after Carrot Top pulled a Yugo out of his trunk.

I can’t do any more Carrot Top jokes, he’ll kick my ass.

Since you asked:
There are many things I don’t and never will get: Marching bands, tap dancing, Keanu Reeves, Dungeons and Dragons, and boy bands. But right at the top of that list has to be game face painters. What could possibly motivate a grown man – or woman – to think, “How can I show support for my favorite team? I know, I’ll paint my face in the team colors, that will do it.” Why? It didn’t work for the Indians, it ain’t gonna work for your team.

Ten years gone
When we moved into our suburban San Diego home ten years ago, I looked out the window of my office and saw that our next door neighbor was skateboarding up and down the cul de sac. Great, I thought. My neighbors have a stoner, brat skateboarding punk for a son.

As usual, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

In the time that we have lived here, I have seen Ross Garrett go from high school surfing champ, to USC graduate school, to editor of Surfing magazine, to law school, to offered to head up a water sports clothing division for Patagonia clothing, back to law school and now he is the publisher of Surfing magazine. In between all of these adventures have come and gone about 20 of the most beautiful women in the world as his temporary girlfriends.

In that same time I think I’ve written six good jokes.

The entire Garrett family is smart, good looking, funny and nice. Their life is like a damn beer commercial: surfing, camping, kayaking, cook outs. One day I made the mistake of asking Ross what he was doing that weekend. Somehow, without any pretension at all, he casually mentioned he was escorting Laird Hamilton, his wife Gabriella Reese and none other than Rebecca Romaijn (She was Stamos’d at the time) to the MTV music awards.

Me? I cleaned Labrador poop out of my backyard.

Yeah, but can they write a good Michael Jackson joke? (And like you can?) Oh, be quiet. (No, you be quiet. Or was he eleven? That’s gross) So is Michael Jackson. (There is this new thing out there Alex, it’s called the high road. You might want to try it) Oh, don’t get all high and mighty on my narrow behind.

And that’s how we play: Alex’s caffeine buzz is wearing off and he fights with his inner diatribe.