Saturday, December 04, 2010

Stand Up Paddle Board Surfing - very small surf day with Amara's Waters...

This isn't me, but I can do all of this.

Friday, December 03, 2010

At the Oklahoma airport a woman stripped to her bra and panties for the TSA search; you gotta admit, this woman put the T&A in TSA.

The hearing to repeal the military’s “Don’t ask, don’t tell” law continues in Washington; one soldier testified that a gay soldier he served with was big, mean and killed a lot of bad guys. Not to mention he could wear the hell out his khaki uniform.

John McCain proclaimed “We must have a regime change in North Korea.” He went on to demand a driver slow down, dammit, this is a neighborhood.

The debate on “Don’t ask, don’t tell” continues. History is in favor of gays in the military. If gay men hadn’t been in the British navy to defeat the Spanish Armada, today England would be called Los Englandos.

Rumor has it Snoop Dog is gong to perform at Prince William’s bachelor party. If Prince William thought his friends laughed at his dad Charles’s ears before? Wait until Snoop gets them all stoned on chronic, they’ll wet their pants.

A study claims there are 200 sextillion more stars in the universe than previously thought; when a skeptic reporter asked if the 200 sextillion number was real or made up, the indignant astrologist said; “I’ll bet you a biscillion dollars its right.”

Since you asked:

Whew doggies, Slattaloids and Nuggoptomoses. You are looking at one stoked jamoke. Well, you're not actually looking, but reading.


Brought my baby home, Jaycee. (See SUP board in prior post) Everything was better than I thought, the drive, the SUP Co store, the kids who helped me. There even was a girl in the shop who was a possible twin of Jill Costello. That I consider a good omen.

Gonna rock that board tomorrow at Scripps. 'Cause I am one of those work hard, play hard, party hard kinda guys. Except, you know, for the work hard part.

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

Here she be, Jaysee.

Woot, woot, woot, I gonna scoot, scoot, scoot, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Britney Spears turns 29 this week. And her panties turn 0.

It has been chilly in Los Angeles. This morning I was shaking like Charlie Sheen going to his pre-Christmas confession.

In Ohio, a woman claims a man kidnapped her for ten days; she said she started to become really nervous when he told her; “It puts the lotion in the basket.”

ABC is debuting “Skating with the Stars.” Now I don’t want to say it is gay, but it is like “Dancing with the Stars” but with more sequins and more absolutely fierce fabulousness.

Dwayne Wade, LeBron James and Chris Bosh, on the losing Miami Heat, are all whining the coach isn’t letting them be themselves. So, in order to be themselves, look for the team to change its name from the Miami Heat to the Miami Annoying Spoiled Brats.

“Sports Illustrated” featured an article about Cal women’s rowing coxswain, Jill Costello, who battled cancer to race in the NCAA women’s crew final. It also features an article on convicted dog fighter, Michael Vick. It’s part of “SI’s” annual “Hero to Zero” issue.

More information from those leaked State Department documents on WikiLeaks; In a meeting with the Australian Prime Minister, former President George W. Bush kept asking him; “If you’re Australian how come you don’t talk like Arnold Schwarzenegger?”

Britney Spears turns 29 this week. That’s 42 in trailer park, Lucky Lager, Marlboros and Pork Rind years.

Britney Spears turns 29 this week. Britney will have the usual celebration: stumbling into the Seven Eleven in her bathrobe and hair curlers to buy a pack of unfiltered Marlboros, a six pack of Lucky Lager and some lottery tickets.

Since you asked:

Oh my goodness, Slatties and Nuggliefiles, I am pumped. I am stoked. I am as annoying as that “Win-win” guy in that American Airlines commercial. Are you ready for this? (I don’t think you are) Just locked down a deal on an amazing 10.6 SUP surfing board. This space stick gonna make me a wave thrasher and a heart basher. Gonna rip so much they gonna call me Jack. (That’s a Jack the Ripper ref . . . oh never mind)

The epoxy board and a carbon fiber paddle for about three hundred beans less than I have seen for just a decent board the same size. That’s a good deal and a good deal more. Trust me, I’m gonna Freddie Bisco that bad boy up and down the coast like butter and toast.

And it is UCSB blue with white. Gonna add a yellow deck pad later.

Man it was cold this morgan. Was shaking like Dennis Hopper’s “Hoosier” character, Shooter in the rehab hospital.

“It’s goblin’ visiting time.”

I don’t know much

But I know I wouldn’t want to row against the Cal Women’s eight plus varsity this year. They got themselves some serious angel power bustin’ all up in that joint. Think I figured out my new board’s name: Jaysee. As in J.C. for Jill Costello.

A wise man once said:

You should dance like nobody is watching, sing like nobody is listening and love like you've never been hurt before.

While that is sound advice, I do not think you should write like nobody is reading. Otherwise, for me anyway, it would just be a whole lot of:

Hobastank, Hobastank, Thule-babe, Thule-babe, Snerk, work, Dirk. Shama hamma whamm shinga shanga shawewwewewaahhhhhhh whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

He says: "I'm just resting my eyes."

Don't touch my junk unless you have to, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Bristol Palin lost on “Dancing with the Stars.” Oh goody, now we get to look forward to the Palin family tradition of losing publically with quiet dignity and grace.

President Barack Obama split his lip in a basketball game and had to have 12 stitches; it was the most serious malady inflicted on a president in a long time that didn’t involve an intern or a pretzel.

An Orlando woman claims she was singled out for extensive airport body search because she had big breasts. The TSA agent denied this. He said it was because she had a smoking hot ass.

President Barack Obama split his lip in a basketball game and had to have 12 stitches; the president will be fine, but the guy who did it is looking at IRS audits for the rest of his life.

A German man attempting to seal an opening in his cellar bricked himself in with no way out; apparently he had been reading former President Bush’s “Decision Points” chapter on exit strategies.

On Glenn Beck’s radio show, Sarah Palin mistakenly said we need to support our North Korean allies. Later Palin would refudiate, denyify and excuseable her statement.

Porn star, Capri Anderson, is suing Charlie Sheen for assault. To review: Sheen spent a fortune on dinner, including $6,000 bottles of wine, he paid her $12,000 to go to his hotel suite, they did not have sex, now she is suing him. Suddenly I feel a lot better about my high school dates.

250,000 classified State Department documents were published on WikiLeaks and some of the information is embarrassing; for example, hot French first lady, Carla Bruni? She won’t have sex with French President Nicolas Sarkozi unless he is wearing a Justin Bieber wig.

Happy Cyber-Monday, this was the day when guys actually stopped surfing the Internet for porn and bought Christmas presents online.

Since you asked:

From the awesome writer, Caprice Crane, on Twitter:

“I don’t have girlfriends because other women are jealous of me” is the delusional way of saying; “I’m a raging bitch.”

No lie, I used to know a woman who would say the first part of this every day. And the last part was absolutely true.

As an admitted Manson-phile, I can strongly suggest you not waste a second of your time on “Manson, My Name is Evil.”

Apparently movie egomaniacs like Oliver Stone and Michael Moore and whatever useless tool made “MMNIE” are too full of themselves to understand that, if you are making a movie about an actual person or historical event, when you change or omit details freely, it destroys the entire movie’s credibility. They can take their excuse of poetic license for creative reasons and shove them up their smug tuchuses, tuchi, if they can get their personal assistant’s noses out of the way.

If you’re whoring out a movie about an actual event, whether you like it or not, you owe it to be honest and truthful and respectful of it’s aspect of history even if it is not pretty or it doesn’t fit your story. By picking an event as polarizing and iconic as the Manson murders and trial, people will buy tickets because of their emotions surrounding that event. When a historical event is reproduced as badly as it was in "MMNIE" it is tantamount to stealing money from people.

Love him or hate him politically, there can be no denying the epic impact General Patton had on history. As a result, the makers of "Patton" were faithful to that responsibility and the size and grandeur of Patton and his personality allowed the movie to soar to greatness.

Love him or hate him politically, there can be no denying the epic impact Richard Nixon had on history. But because of Oliver Stone's egomania, political bias and crappy movie making, "Nixon" was so bad it was funny. My Mom despised Richard Nixon with every ounce of her body and she would have felt sorry for him the way he was portrayed so clownishly by Stone.

When license is taken for creativity it must be done with reason and thoughtfully. For example, in Gore Vidal’s “Lincoln” Vidal created private conversations between the characters that were clearly invented because there were obviously no recordings or a record of what was said.

But when Gore had Lincoln conversing with Grant in private, he did it in character and with an ear for the correct history. As a result, the conversations seemed credible and honest.

In “MMNIE” conversations were so whacked up and weird, disjointed, psycho and unconnected and phony, it was actually unfair to nutty madman, Manson. They should not have been allowed to use his name. The Manson character should have been called Chester Hudson.

When I can watch and entire movie - it was like watching a train wreck, I had to see if it would get any better - and not learn one single shred of new information, that is a horribly researched movie. As avid a Manson-phile as I am, I don’t know all that much. But I know a hell of a lot more than the oxygen-thief nob who made this smoldering pile of pig poop.

Monday, November 29, 2010

James Taylor - "You Can Close Your Eyes"

Jill's "Got to Do It" Video

Jill's awesome Cal teammates sent this to her when she was undergoing 14 rounds of chemo.

Got to do it, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

On Thanksgiving, did you see those Detroit Lions throwback uniforms? They were uglier than Camilla Parker Bowles standing next to Kate Middleton.

They were uglier than a Thanksgiving touch football game between Adam Lambert’s backup dancers and singers.

Did you see the Detroit Lions throwback uniforms on Thanksgiving? They looked like the practice uniforms of Our Sisters of the Broke-Asses Catholic high school.

On Thanksgiving, Kid Rock performed well at halftime of the Patriots-Lions game; although, I have to say, Kid Rock looks almost nothing like his father, Duane Johnson, the Rock.

Thanksgiving can be tough. There’s arguing, crying, screaming, and drunks getting in a fight. And that’s just in the Detroit Lion’s locker room after the game.

My Thanksgiving was nice. I was sticking my hand deep inside the turkey cavity to remove the giblets, when I couldn’t help think how happy I was to not have to go through an airport TSA search this holiday.

In France, a woman was trapped in a bathroom for 20 days; she lived on tap water surviving without food for almost three weeks. No word on why she didn’t shower for three weeks.

To keep children from buying American Barbies, Iran has come out with its own version. It’s called: Jihad Josephine.

Since you asked:
There wasn’t one NFL player who got hit as hard as I did this week when I read about the incredible Jill Costello, (“The Courage of Jill Costello” by Chris Ballard, “Sports Illustrated”) the coxswain for the Cal women’s crew team.

Apparently Jill was the kind of girl, a tiny little thing, who, if someone was having a bad day, would pull out her little ears, puff up her cheeks, cross her bright eyes until she monkey-faced them into laughing.

She was a take charge gal whose most often used words as a toddler were “Me do.” When told she had cancer she brushed off the upcoming fight by saying she had survived a 60 Kappa sorority girl attack on study snacks during finals.

She was the kind of girl who, when her illness developed, only worried about its effect on her teammates. She was the kind of girl who bought a white fur ball little Maltese puppy – and named it Jack, of course – so that, if she passed, her boyfriend and family would have something of hers to hold when she was gone.

She was the kind of woman who, like my Mom, makes me cry when I hear James Taylor’s “You Can Close Your Eyes.”

So close your eyes
You can close your eyes, it’s all right
I don’t know no love songs
And I can’t play the blues anymore
But I can sing this song
And you can sing this song
When I’m gone