Take the rock to the hole, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Sure sign
Police in Arizona found a portable meth lab in a church; authorities became suspicious because the name of the church is Our Sister of the Shirtless Guy with Broken Teeth.

Bag it
American Airlines is charging passengers $15 to check their first bag; And it’s another $20 for your first barf bag.

Ouch
The good news is that John McCain’s medical records have been released and he has a clean bill of health; the bad news is the medical records were signed by Doc Holiday of Tombstone.

I bet
The Humpback whale population has gone from nearly extinct to over 20,000; well sure, a species is bound to reproduce well if they have hump in their name. The “Get Some” whales are thriving as well.

The nerve
As with Charles Barkley's $400,000 bill, Dallas Cowboy troublemaker Pacman Jones barely missed criminal charges by paying an overdue Las Vegas Casino gambling debt for $20,000. These pampered athletes are handed loans of tens and – in Barkley’s case – hundreds of thousands of dollars and if they lose, they think they can just walk away. Who do they think they are, Hillary Clinton?

Get busier
“Maxim” magazine says the average man burns 125 calories having sex for one hour. According to Calories Per Hour.com, the average man burns 125 calories sitting in church for an hour. If you’re burning the same calories in church and having sex, you better pray you get better at sex.

Or
If a guy is burning the same amount of calories having sex as he does sitting in church, you do not want to sit in back of him in church.

Stream Line
A guy in Bulgaria has invented dual a urinal video game; the idea is to hit the targets with your urine stream. And, before you ask, no it isn’t available on Wii.

Either one
The movie “Sex and the City” opens in seven days; if you know that you either have a vagina or you have no interest in seeing one.

The movie “Sex and the City” opens soon, its about four hot women who have lots of sex in expensive New York apartments, they never work, they shop, go to clubs and eat brunch all day on weekends. That should be called “Sex For Hire in the City” these women have to be high class whores.

The movie “Sex and the City” opens in seven days; a lot of women identify their friends as the characters in “Sex in the City” like a Charlotte is sweet and innocent, a cynical hard worker is a Miranda, a Carrie is witty, fun and hip, and if you’re a Samantha, well, then you're a skank.

Speaking of Skanks
Another sex video of Paris Hilton has surfaced this time it shows Paris having sex in a bathtub; you think that’s wild? The bathtub is in a Home Depot show room display

Fool her once, shame on the guy filming her, fool her twice means Paris is too stupid to know the red light means the video camera is on.

Since you asked:
The History Channel featured an interesting special on the Comanche, probably the fiercest, bravest, meanest and most skilled riders and fighters in the West. Before the white man, they were the Indian equivalent of the white man. No prisoners, no compromise. Get off our land. We want it all and will kill you to have it. There were no good guys in the battle between Texas Rangers and Comanche’s.

The Comanches were but a small percentage of all Native Americans yet their image as savage and gallant fighters is what was used the majority of the time in Westerns. Nobody made a movie about the Chumash Indians gathering fruits and nuts along the Central Coast of California, which was far more typical of Native Americans than the shooting-arrows-from-underneath-a-galloping-horse Comanches.

Two things about the documentary struck me as interesting. By taking the fight to the White man with the same war philosophy of preemptive strikes and take no prisoners, the Comanches helped seal their own doom. By being too much alike, the Comanches and the Whites had no chance of ever getting along. Two bullies finally hooked up and the one with the most numbers won out.

The second thing that struck me about the Comanches was how they let their leaders pick themselves. If a warrior was the best fighter and men followed him into battle and won, he was chosen as the band’s leader, no questions asked. If a Comanche campaigned to be chosen a leader that would be the first thing that would eliminate him. Great leaders don’t want to be leaders. They are just born leaders.

We should learn from that in our own political system. If somebody is dying to get into office, that should be the first indication we don’t want them in that office. We should be able to take the most outstanding leader, whether he is in business or in the military, and say;

“Hey you, we’ve decided we would be the best off, as a country, if you were leading things. Congratulations, you're President.”

No mudslinging, no false promises, no lies, no manipulations, no horse pucky.

Gonna get our grill on up in here this M-Day, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

How
Barack Obama visited a Crow reservation and the chief adopted him and gave him the Indian name Black Eagle; he also gave Hillary Clinton an Indian name: Icy Pants Suit.


Barack Obama visited a Crow reservation and the chief adopted him and gave him the Indian name Black Eagle; John McCain already has the Indian name he was given by Sitting Bull: Old Man Who Whistles When He Talks.


Good luck charm
“American Idol” semi-finalist, David Cook, has had mediocre performances the last few shows; to break out of his slump, tonight Cook is wearing Jason Giambi’s gold-lame tiger thong.


Not quite the same anymore
The Indiana Jones movie is coming out. You can tell Indiana Jones is getting up there; the closest thing to a fight scene is when Indy argues with the cashier for double coupons on his cat food.


Shock and awe
It was Cher’s birthday yesterday and they threw her a surprise birthday party, and boy did Cher look shocked and wildly surprised. But then, with all her face lifts and Botox, Cher always looks shocked and wildly surprised.


Breaking it down
Cher had a birthday yesterday, Cher is 62. Well, some of her is 62, her breasts are 23, her lips are ten and her ass is just five-years-old.


Oh, oui kid the French
This week in 1927, Charles Lindberg became the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic landing in Paris; His biggest problem was processing the thousands of French people who instinctively surrendered to a foreign intruder arriving on French soil.


Not the first time
New York Yankee’s Jason Giambi admitted he wears a gold lame tiger thong under his uniform to break hitting slumps. This is not unprecedented, one time, after a wild night, Babe Ruth had to play a game wearing a hooker’s corset that got stock on his gut.


Since you asked:
So what tasty morsels are going on Lex’s grill this here M-Weekend? If the waves cooperate on Monday I am going to head North to either Cardiff – the sight of my recent ass-kicking so hopefully I will get out – or Carlsbad, paddleboard my brains out and then slink on over to Tip Top Meats in Carlsbad and pick up one of their amazing bone-in rib eyes.

Rub those bad boys with garlic powder, smoked paprika, fresh ground pepper, toss on a hot grill, sear both sides, remove and slather oil and sprinkle sea salt, put them back for the cross marks, take them off to rest and add more sea salt.

Roasted garlic mashed potatoes and my A1 steak sauce and water cooked green beans with toasted sesame sauce and then slather the meat with a red wine reduction sauce. A nice glass of Aussie red and Bob is your Frickin’ Uncle.

Remember to hoist one or two to our fighting heroes. They did it so we didn't have to.

We getting’ real real fast up in here, Torn Slatterns and Nugger Ranchers

Just like it
As far as claiming victory for the democrats, Hillary Clinton told Barack Obama: “Not so fast.” Wow, they bicker all the time and now she is telling him not so fast? It’s like they’re married.

Tough times
You can tell Hillary Clinton’s campaign is in tough financial times; Hillary has gone from wearing silk pants suits, to wool, then cotton and now Hillary is reduced to wearing reversible polyester pants suits.

Not nice
Charles Barkley barely escaped criminal chargers over a gambling debt of $400,000; In retrospect, Barkley says, even though he is fond of the Royal Family, it was a mistake to put so much money on Camille Parker Bowles to win the Kentucky Derby.

We kid and like the Ellen
Ellen Degeneres is engaged to her girlfriend Portia de Rossi; anyone interested in getting the couple a wedding gift, they are registered at “Bed, Bath and Strap-on.”

I, uh, I did not know that
Kentucky Derby winner Big Brown won the Preakness and hopes to win the Triple Crown; the Triple Crown hasn’t been won since Affirmed in 1978. Affirmed retired to stud and, according to her autobiography, “Audition” Affirmed secretly dated Barbara Walters for two years.

Kinda do
New York Yankee Jason Giambi admitted he wears a gold lame leopard thong to break hitting slumps. Suddenly I long for the days when players ended slumps by putting needles on their butts.

Charles Not To Charge
Charles Barkley barely escaped criminal chargers over a gambling debt of $400,000; Barkley vows he will never gamble again, but I don’t think he gets it. Barkley is giving three-to-one odds that he won’t ever gamble again.

Again, not nice
In his trip to Egypt, President Bush rode a camel; It was a little awkward when onlookers shouted “Hey, look at the hump. And he is riding a camel.”

Overheard
Some bad news for Hillary, while campaigning at a Kentucky thoroughbred farm, she was overheard asking the owner; “So how much to make Bill a gelding?”

Nice moment
Cancer survivor, Boston Red Sox pitcher Jon Lester pitched a no-hitter in a 7-0 win against the Kansas City Royals. It was an emotional moment in Boston, even New England Patriot’s coach Bill Belichick had a tear in his eye, but it turns out that was from bumping into his video camera.

The good ol’ baseball way
New York Yankee Jason Giambi admitted he wears a gold-lame tiger thong to break out of a hitting slump. That is disgusting, sick and perverted, Giambi should break a slump the traditional major league way: by having sex with a really fat and ugly woman.

When did they get on?
The Supreme Court upheld a strict federal law that makes it a crime to send messages over the computer that offer child pornography. The ruling was 7-2. Here is my question: who were the two opposed? Since when are R. Kelley and Michael Jackson on the Supreme Court?

That’s the ticket
A video has surfaced that appears to show a 23-year-old Angelina Jolie in a drug den talking about enjoying bi-sexual sado-masochistic sex. Or as I call it, my ticket to clean prostate health for the week.


Since you asked:

It is confession time. It would appear that I am not quite as young and fit as I like to think I am.

Nor, apparently, do I look it.

My daughter’s soccer team is lucky enough to have a Dad who is an elite athlete trainer, Paul Wright - who played professional soccer in Europe and the United States – who is the owner and founder of “Speed to Burn” a fitness company that specializes in improving overall balance, speed and endurance.

One of the moms on the team – one of the younger and fitter moms I might add – got the bright idea to have one of the ‘STB” instructors give a class once a week to the parents. Granted it is dialed for fitness more than any speed as we are pretty much all into tendon-tearing age.

So they hold the first class during our girl’s soccer practice so I stick around to watch. They do some agility drills, a few jump ropes, that hippy-hoping, steppy-step rope-ladder-on-the-ground thing and a few sit ups. Big deal? Some hopping and lying on the grass. I can do that, so I decide to do it this week.

So we do a lap around this park, maybe a quarter mile, to warm up. Then we stretch. Then she breaks out the little that hippy-hopping, steppy-step rope-ladder-on-the-ground thing. Ahh isn’t that precious? We have a widdle bitty ladder. We can play fireman. Sheesh. You got a real athlete over here, for crying-out-loud. I've helicopter skied in the Canadian Rockies, I've jumped and rode waves windsurfing in Maui, I've done many mini-triathlons. Don't bring these cheesy ladder toys in my house.

Two steps per rung all the way through. Easy, right? Wait. Why are my calves so tired? We do one step in each rung two outside. Now why are my thighs so tired? Three outside the rung, one inside, three outside. Wait. Now why am I breathing so hard?

This frickin’ rope ladder step thing was about ten times harder than I thought and waxed my six. Plus we only had half as many people this time as the first time so there was no waiting in line like the first week.

No lie, after the very first drill, I thought I was toast. I was gassed. I am screwed.

Then she set up an obstacle type course where we had bound on rubber platforms, dodge cones and do five burpies at the end. Burpies suck. Burpies are when you touch the ground and then jump up in the air. Sounds easy, right? Try it after running through and obstacle course. Now do that ten times in a row.

Then it is jump rope drills, which I am proud to say I did pretty well. Then over to a wall for more hopping and chairs. A chair is when you lean against the wall with your knees bent at a 90 degree angle as if you’re sitting on a chair, but you are not. Thighs be burnin’.

Finally it was sit up time. Can you imagine that? Being so gassed and tired that you’re looking forward to doing sit ups? Well I was and I did. And I am proud to say I did the abdominal work pretty well. Even the plank. The plank is when you get in the push up position but on your elbows and forearms instead of your palms and you hold it for a minute. Go ahead. Try it. See? Now imagine it after all that other crap.

Made it. Yes I am tired, yes I am sweaty, yes I am gassed, but I did it.

Not quite, the instructor told us to run three laps. What? My legs are shot. Now I can run an easy three to five miles without too much of a problem, but now my legs are shot. But because I am an idiot and I think I am 25, I decide to run with whoever is in front.

Big mistake. The woman in front is Audrey, a very nice, very pretty but ridiculously fit woman of about, oh, maybe 32. I am not pretty and I am not a ridiculously fit woman and I am really not 32, and, right now, I am also not feeling very nice.

But I hang with her as she is easily making conversation which I turn in the direction of finding out how much this work-out animal runs. Oh, about three or four miles a day. Turns out she and some of her girlfriends have a little running group that meets on Sundays for a “fun eight mile run.” Before this I didn’t know the words fun and eight mile run could go together.

One lap to go and I have to start coming up with mental tricks to keep going. The genius trick I pick? Well, at least I can’t feel much worse. Don’t ever say something can’t get worse, Slats and Nugs, because, if you do, it can and it will.

At what I thought prior to this was my worst moment, as sweetly as she can, Audrey turns to me and nicely says; “Your daughter, Ann Caroline, is so fast.” Now I feel proud and a little bit better, and I am positive that she didn’t mean it this way, but, she then turned and looked at me and said;

“Where does she get it from?”

Oh, the humanity.

It took every ounce of energy I had not only to finish that lap but also to keep from getting all Al Bundy on her ass;

“Why, I’ll have you know I once scored 22 touchdowns in one high school football season, ran a 4.5 forty and was the youngest by two years to qualify for the 19-and-under National Decathlon Championship where I broke 6,000 points at age 16.”

Cue: “Glory Days.”

Nope, I had to tell myself, Lex, you are not 21 and living in Santa Barbara working out or windsurfing four hours every day. No, you’re in your forties – hey, it’s still true for a couple of months, so I am going to say it – and way, way too many cheeseburgers and bottles of cheap California wine and Kettle One vodka have slipped in you for you to deserve to feel the outrage that you feel.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel it anyway.

Slap it, bap it and whap it, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

How hot was it?
Man it was hot. I was sweating like Hillary Clinton’s campaign accountant.

Man it was hot. Iron Man had to wear his sheet-metal Bermuda shorts.

It was so hot Iron Man nearly melted his nuts . . . and his bolts.

We kid the Niners fans
The California Supreme Court ruled that gay marriage is legal. In San Francisco, men donned wild dresses, popped champagne corks, danced, kissed strangers. And that was just in the Forty Niner locker room.

California ruled that gay marriage is legal. In San Francisco, men donned wild dresses, popped champagne corks, danced, kissed strangers. When asked how long the gay ruling celebration would last, they asked; “What gay ruling celebration?”

Thong gone wrong
New York Yankee Jason Giambi admitted he wears a gold leopard thong to break a slump. It helps that the thong has a steroid syringe sticking in it.

What could go wrong there?
USC basketball star OJ Mayo is accused of taking illegal payments from agents, but Mayo denies it. And, frankly, when it comes to telling the truth, how can you not believe a USC star named OJ?

Why?
Annika Sorenstam has retired from golf at 37. Why do you retire from golf? That’s like retiring from naps.

Good idea
Muskogee, OK elected a 19-year-old mayor, John Taylor Hammons. Getting elected mayor was all part of Hammons grand scheme to try and lose his virginity.

Gang schmang
A gang of surfers in wealthy La Jolla are on trial for murdering a surfer in a fight; La Jolla is a wealthy town, but this gang was from the tough side of town. That’s the side of La Jolla with only two Starbucks.

A gang of surfers in wealthy La Jolla are on trial for murdering a surfer in a fight; usually a gang from La Jolla consists of a group of debutantes in a Jaguar doing a drive-by snubbing.

Just kidding, Honey
Now that gay people can marry in California, for gay people unfamiliar with marriage, let me give you a few terms to remember: Yes, dear. You’re right, dear, I’m sorry, and Oh swift death where is thine sweet relief?


Since you asked:
Lord knows I loves me some women. Since grade school it has been my observation that women are smarter than us big goofy dumb guys, women are kinder, cleaner and far more attractive in every way. Why women have anything to do with us big stupid dopes, let alone have sex with us, is a mystery to me but one that I am very happy and grateful for.

But we men and women are different, there ain’t no getting’ around that.

Guys, have you ever made the socially fatal error of trying to keep up in a conversation of three or more women? Don’t. We don’t have the workings, we don’t have the wiring.

The other day at a party, I was surrounded by four very nice, very attractive, very smart, very well-educated moms from our daughter’s Girl Scout troop and I tried to participate in their conversation. It was like the proverbial three-legged, one-eyed black lab named Lucky trying to cross a busy eight-lane California freeway.


Picture, if you will, by a nice backyard pool, cocktails in hand, four lovely women in their mid to late thirties, early forties, and one big stupid galoot jamoke knucklehead dorpy guy, me, as the director does a Martin Scorsese-like round-table-circular camera pan.

(My thoughts are in parenthesis)

“Oh, I just love, love, love your shoes. They're fun.”

(How the hell can shoes be fun?)

“Thanks, I got them on sale at “Nordies”

“The one by Farmers Market? Have you tried their herb-and oil marinated chicken?”

(Chickens? Weren’t they just talking about shoes one second ago? And what’s a Nordies?)

“Yes, I love it, but I am starting a new diet”

“Oh, no you don’t have to diet. Which diet?”

“Isagenix”

(Is age nix? Is that one word or three? Is that even in our language?)

“My friend, Karen-Annalyn did that.”

“Oh, is that the woman with the son you talked about?”

“Yes, but he’s doing better, thanks.”

(Who is doing better? What happened to the diet talk? I had a diet comment all ready to go. I cannot get a word in here sideways and I grew up in a family where stopping to inhale was considered an opening in the conversation)

“Have you all had that new spin instructor?”

As if one, the other three earnestly nod and say;

“Yeeeeeeessssssssss.”

(There is no way a human can tell if this is a great yes or a horrible yes, but before I can ask “What’s wrong with the new spin instructor?” another jumps in)

“How did your fourth grade science presentation projects go?”

(OK, I think I can add something to this, my daughter, Ann Caroline, did her project on monkeys and when I asked her why, she just looked at me like I was crazy and said; “Because monkeys like to throw their poo, Daddy.” Which I thought was hilarious, so I will break in with that story)

“Oh, good. Who is your teacher this year?”

(Wait, what happened to the science project? I got something on that)

“Mrs. Henson, you know about what happened to her?”

Just like with the spin instructor, all three, as one, earnestly nod and say;

“Yeeeeesssss.”

(Now I know and like Mrs. Henson and I want to know what that yeeeeesss means, but before I can ask)

“The same thing happened to Mrs. Seymore.”

All three at once share a moderately shocked half-gasp.

(What? I still don’t know what happened to Mrs. Henson. Dammit, I am going to add something to this conversation if it kills me)

“They say it isn’t hereditary but I am not so sure.”

(What? What is hereditary? But suddenly there is a pause and before I know what is happening, I blurt out)

“Did you know that monkeys like to throw poo?”

The silence is deafening as all four of them stare at me with the same look they would give the guy at the gym with the wool hat who picks up the dirty towels. Thankfully, one shows mercy and turns to the other and asks;

“How much were the shoes at Nordies?”

Can I get a righteous hey nah nanny and a ha cha cha one time, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers?

Do me running and call me Betty, Slatticises and Nugglieosities.

My word, I just got worked, worked again, worked some more, worked a tad more and then got a hot steaming bowl of worked soup poured onto my big dumb head with a side of worked.

Went to Cardiff Reef and it was pumping pretty good. Should I or shouldn’t I? Dale would go*. Why not? Now, in retrospect, my first clue should have been that there were no other stand up bros but one and he was awesome. No problem, I will take the safe way out and paddle out on my stomach with the blade under my chest and handle forward.

Bit wave breaks, the white wash knocks me back. Keep paddling, it happens again. This time a bigger wave breaks and knocks me spinning. OK, this is harder than I thought it would be. Let’s try it on the knees where I can use the paddle. Knocked off and back. Now I am getting a little pissed and frustrated. Try the knees again. Knocked back but not off. Paddle hard. Whew, finally making progress. Big roller, no problem. Up and down without getting knocked off. Now I am ready to stand up. I hear a loud roaring noise. I look up and a huge wave out of nowhere crashes on my head.

Before I know what is happening I am a rag doll in the rinse cycle under water. My big-ass board hits me, I lose the paddle. Life is becoming very real very fast. I try to catch my breath, another wave whomps on top of me sending me under water again. Another wave munches me. In rapid succession, I worry about losing my paddle, then I worry about losing the board if the leash snaps like it did two weeks ago. Now I am washed back to where I can stand up. Another wave whomps me, I suck in some salt water and pop up coughing out water. Now I am worried about losing a lot more.

Time to bail. I sit on the board and ride in some white wash, stand up and carry it on the beach. All at once, I am exhausted, frustrated, dizzy, addle-minded, embarrassed and ashamed.

Did I quit? Oh hell no. I retreated a bit. Drove South to La Jolla Shores, saw it was a much friendlier, but still very powerful, break and headed out without any problems. Rode some good waves and had a blast. Washed that bad taste of defeat right out of my mouth.

If you ever need a quick lesson in hubris, take up a sport in the ocean. Just as soon as you start to think you might begin to kind of feel a little cocky, it will knock you right back into a state of serious respectfulness.

My knee is scraped and banged up with a big bruise, my hands are raw, my thumb hit the paddle and I thought I broke it, my neck has a crick in it that makes me walk like the hunchback of Notre Dame and I have a ton of salt water in my head up my nose and every muscle is spent.

And I couldn’t be happier.

Sung to the tune of Van Morrison’s “Baby Please Don’t Go.”

Got a big-ass board
Got a big-ass board
Got a big-ass board
Rode a wave up there
You know I love it so
Baby, Dale would go*

*Dale Webster has surfed a world record 10,470 consecutive days surfing for 28 years.

Let me look into the future: Yep, some Maggies and Sliders are in this here Gaucho’s future.