Saturday, April 02, 2011

Wooddeally woodeally woo hoo hoo

When we had no fowl, we would eat the crawdad. When we could find no crawdad, we ate sand, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

They found the lost Bronx Zoo cobra alive. It was still in the building. Turns out the snake just ducked into an office to use the computer to book tickets for the annual American Bar Association.

Two USC students, man and woman, were openly seen having sex on a campus rooftop during the day. You know who really got screwed? The parents who pay their tuitions.

They found the lost Bronx Zoo cobra alive. It never left the building. How bad is a neighborhood when even deadly snakes are afraid to go wander outside?

Two USC students, man and woman, were recorded having sex on a campus rooftop during the day in full view of the whole school. How much do you want to bet these two idiots get a reality show? How much more do you want to bet it will be called: “Rooftop Trojans.”?

Donald Trump continues to spout about running for President. Can you imagine if Trump is elected President? You thought a lot of crap was named after him now? It will be the Trump White House, Trump Air Force One, Camp David Trump.

With negotiations stopped between owner and players, the NFL should use this lockout time to investigate a serious problem: How Buffalo Hot Wings is able to rig games using an old guy manipulating the sprinkler system. And why are they watering artificial turf fields?

Another snowstorm has hit the northeast. But we Californians have our weather troubles too. Now that it is daylight savings time, we constantly have to remember to wear our sunglasses an hour longer.

Singer Michael Buble got married. A sick part of me always hoped one day Michael Buble would hook up with Justin Bieber, that way we could call them Justichael Bierbub.

50 employees at a Japanese nuclear plant face almost certain death to save the rest of the country. In the US, workers walk off the job when asked to pay for their own coffee.

Did you know that Lindsay Lohan has dropped her last name, Lohan? She is just Lindsay. And the other night in New York at 2:00 AM she also dropped Lindsay. She dropped Lindsay face first on the sidewalk outside a club.

Yep, paparazzi photos show a drunk Lindsay Lohan falling face first on the sidewalk outside a New York Nightclub at 2:00 AM. It wasn’t all the booze’s fault, Lindsay toppled over from the weight of all the silverware she stole and snuck in her blouse.

Adam Lambert showed up at Lady Gaga’s 25th birthday party in L.A. and was so drunk and obnoxious he was asked to leave. How annoying are you when a woman who travels in an egg and wears meat dresses thinks you’re too wild?

Since you asked:

Got a good workout followed by grilled Lex’s steaks sandguidos ala Escondido and final four viewage on tap, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers. And yes, a few San Diego Sunsets.

And a hay nan nanny and a hah cha cha.

Friday, April 01, 2011

‘Tain’t no big thing to wait for the bell to ring, ‘taint no big thang, the toll of the bell, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

PETA wants San Francisco’s Tenderloin District to be named Granola Flats. Great, for a second there I was afraid PETA might be thought of as crazy people with too much time on their hands.

A three-year-old Chinese child weighs 132 pounds. He’s so fat he keeps breaking his chair at the toy factory.

I’m a big guy, and I didn’t weigh 132 pounds until eighth grade. In the Chinese kid’s defense, I wasn’t eating food with lead in it.

A big thing on twitter is celebrities who have guest tweeters. How dumb and lazy have we become when you have to have somebody twitter for you? Ewww, posting 140 characters is too hard, I need help.

Two USC students were caught having sex on a campus rooftop during the day. Two students at the University of Duluth tried this, but it ended tragically. The male lost something very vital to frostbite.

Space Shuttle Endeavour to go on permanent display at USC. Students there so excited, they can’t wait to have sex on top of it.

Sorry about another snowstorm, Northeast. But hey, we Californians have our weather challenges as well. Since daylight savings time, we have to remember to wear our sunglasses an hour later.

A Tribute To Steve Goodman. Go Cubs Go!!

Great story about a great guy and my beloved Cubbies

Thursday, March 31, 2011

On top of here, Stork Tower, UCSB, is where I had my chance and chickened out. My youth was wasted on a young dumb guy. Can't imagine what it was about this that turned my girlfriend on.

UCSB's new motto:

Our students look hot and hook-up in freaky places, they're just too smart to get caught.

Puttin’ the would to the good, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

While the Barry Bonds steroid perjury trial is underway, today is the Opening Day of baseball:

“Gentleman, start your injections.”

Two USC students, a guy and girl, were caught having sex on top of a roof in the middle of campus in the middle of the day. Apparently USC stands for: Unusual Sex Choice. Not to be critical, but um, I saw the video tape. Let’s just say USC stands for Unusually Short Connection.

Porn star Ron Jeremy has his own line of rum called Ron de Jeremy Rum. Careful, guys, if you drink too much you’ll be really, really hung in the morning.

Good news, they think they know where the missing Bronx Zoo deadly Egyptian cobra is; he’s on Wall Street running a mortgage hedge fund.

Donald Trump says he questions President Obama’s citizenship and wants to see his birth certificate. Never mind that, I want to know where that thing on Trump’s head was born.

Two USC students, a guy and girl, were caught having sex on top of a roof in the middle of campus in the middle of the day. He is a member of the Kappa Sigma fraternity. Kappa Sigma is Greek for “Way to go, Dude.”

Kids, that’s not what your professor meant when he said; “Start cramming for finals.”

Of course USC students have sex in the middle of the day, during the nighttime they’re too busy drinking.

Kevin Federline will be a dad for the fifth time. Guys like Jon Gosselin, John Edwards and Kevin Federline keep reproducing and we wonder why our country is such a mess?

Since you asked:

OK, you brought it up, let’s talk about those two USC kids going at it like monkeys on the roof in full view of the campus. He’s a member of Kappa Sigma, not sure her sorority, but from one picture, I’m guessing it’s I Eta Guy.

One source claims he is the only one who attends USC. They say she goes to Oregon State. Which would make sense because that would be the Trojans with the Beavers.

Sorry. Any who.

As you might know, if you read this blog, I am not a fan of USC. To say the least. Yes, it is bad to stereotype any group, but, in my experience as a person also from a fraternity on a beautiful California campus with gorgeous and fit students, USC students, especially the Greek members, are incredibly snotty, arrogant and condescending tools without having nearly enough brain power to justify copping that much of a pompous attitude.

This incident does nothing to change that opinion. Rather, it justifies it.

On a more purulent level, oops, I mean prurient* level – and this story exists on many levels – you got to give these two some props, no matter how stupid this stunt was. She is hot and a go-er. Even though they blacked out his junk, well, dude, way to go. USC apparently stands for Unusually Sizeable . . . well, you know. Welcome to our club, so to speak. Welcome to our club. (cough and sniff of smugness) Hey, what? It’s true.

And how about him talking her into this? Most guys can’t get women to have sex with the lights on, let alone in broad daylight in front of an entire campus.

Although, in my experience, it was probably the other way around, women don’t do a lot they don’t want to, sexually. Girls are clever at making their guys think they were talked into something, when it was really their idea in the first place. Yes, you know what I am talking about.

(Enter: "Pop Goes the Weasel" song) You naughty Minx, you.

Not sure what the kid’s majors were, but from one picture, I am guessing Animal Husbandry.

Tip your waitresses and try the veal.

You can tell a lot about someone - or an organization - by how they react to this story. As expected, USC and that fraternity reacted with full-blown, self-righteous pompous and hypocritical outrage.

The University of Southern California prides itself, in fact, outright whores itself out on its image of Hollywood and frat boys and sorority girls with chiseled movie star looks. What did USC think would happen when these two groups drink booze and get together? Nobody got hurt. Nothing was damaged. Chill. Hot looking college students should be acting crazy and hooking up.

This is how hot and great the girls are and were at UCSB: When my fraternity went to Mazatlan, Mexico, on spring break, we brought our girlfriends and sorority little sisters on the train with us. We knew there was no chance of running into women from any campus, including USC and UCLA, who were better looking or more fun. Feel the love, Gaucho-ettes, feel the love because I am putting it out there.

No lie, Nugglussesses, if you are a buffed, good-looking dude** between the ages of 18 and 27, first, Eff You, and second, get your tattoo, Axe-body-spray-smelling ass to East Beach when the UCSB Pi Phi sorority holds its annual beach volleyball tournament. Good, googly and moog, you will not believe how hot and awesome those girls are.

Whew. Hmm. Huh? Oh, sorry. What were we talking about?

Personally, if you’re outraged and angry over this roof-banging prank, you are probably too uptight and repressed. If you’re sexually excited by this story? You’re either Charlie Sheen or Paris Hilton.

Granted, the kids, as I call them, made a horrible decision and the proper authorities have to do something to discourage rampant public sex on campus. Keep it in the dorms and frat houses. Was it stupid for these two to have sex in the open during the day? No doubt. Kick them off campus until the story goes away. It will only take a month.

Truth is these kids - and how hard is it for me to admit, at my age, they could be my kids? - will be marred by this incident enough, especially the woman. Very, very popular, but marred. Double standards exist and this could damage the woman’s future. It’s not fair, but it’s true. My guess is, however, every fraternity will send her an invitation to be a little sister.

The guy will get his back slapped, offered high fives and get bought a few drinks. But if his rich Newport Beach Daddy wants to appoint his son CEO when he retires? He can’t knowing this P.R. enchilada is in his closet.

Let’s review:

Everybody with any brains now knows if you have sex in public, it will get filmed and it will go viral on the Internet. If these two fun-loving kids didn’t know that, they are stupid even by USC standards. Which is saying a lot.

For me, my reaction to this is two-fold. It brings home the fact that, in my feeble mind, I am closer to being these kids back at UCSB than I am to being a happily married man with a 12-year-old daughter and two doggies. Sad? Sad for the aging Dad? You bet.

The second is, well, I had a chance to do something very similar with an adventurous and cute girlfriend at UCSB – only in the cover of darkness, we weren’t stupid - and I chickened out. Wish I hadn’t, but that is thirty-year-old-plus water under the bridge, as they say.

Guess the point is, if you’re a hot, sexy young college student dating another hot, sexy college student, and you want to get weird and freaky? By all means, go for it. You only live once. Be safe and don’t do it where anyone can record you, morons.

Now with everyone carrying cameras and video cameras in their phones, "What happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas" is a bold-faced lie.

*For any USC students reading this, prurient means crudely or basely sexually enticing. Enticing means . . . oh, forget it, go hump someone on a roof.

**Dear Aforementioned-18-27-year-old-single-good-looking-ripped-abs-dudes:

Make no mistake, I was where you are, so don't be so damn cocky. Hell, I was you late into my 30's.

As god is my witness, if you get lucky - and I mean lottery-winning lucky - you will -knock on wood - be where I am now: 52, married to a great wife with a great kid, everyone healthy, with wonderful friends and living in a great area, doing what I love and running and surfing and grilling year round with a full head of not-quite-yet-gray hair in beautiful San Diego.

But don't, for one split second, think that I am not bitterly, angrily and almost insanely jealous of you. So go out there and get her done.

Your Pal,


P.S. No matter how handsome, young, rich, ripped and handsome you are? (Yes, I know I said handsome twice) I am funnier than you are. Bam, oh yeah, I said it, bo-yah to yah.

(Doing the Snoppy dance)

Zombieland - Bill Murray's joke

Donald Wolfit said; "Dying is easy, comedy is hard." The amazing Bill Murray does both.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

So that’s what you call me, that or his Dudeness, Duder, or El Duderino if you’re not into that whole brevity thing, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Happy birthday to Lady Gaga who is 25. Which is 45 in Gaga-years.

M.C. Hammer turns 49 today. Gosh, I hope his co-workers at Radio Shack get him a cake.

The NCAA tournament is a lot like Charlie Sheen’s years: down to the final four.

The movie “Diary of a Whimpy Kid” opened this weekend. Do you want to know how you know if a boy is a whimpy kid? If he keeps a diary.

In Illinois, there is a shelter dog for adoption named Twitter. It’s a great dog, but if you take it, your parents will never, ever understand it.

Whatever you do, don’t get the shelter dog named Facebook, your parents will keep bugging you with it.

In the steroid perjury trial of Barry Bonds, his ex-mistress, Kimberly Bell, testified steroids made Bonds’s testicles shrunken and misshapen and he had penile dysfunction. If Barry isn’t careful, this testimony could become embarrassing.

A Frenchman, Alaine Roberts, climbed the world’s tallest building, 124 stories in Dubai; that would be very impressive if not for two things: stairs and elevators.

Sadly, Geraldine Ferraro passed away. I always liked Geraldine, she reminds me of the woman who goes to the dog park with plastic ball launcher for her Golden Retriever named Scout.

Did you see those French jets bombing Libya? They are amazing. The French jets actually have a gear called Retreating that flies the jet backwards.

Paris Hilton is launching a new shoe line. These are the first shoes designed to look good when placed behind a woman’s ears.

The name of the Paris Hilton shoe line is Tahgif. It stands for the abbreviation for: Toes Go In First.

Happy 43rd birthday to Lucy Lawless. Lucy played “Xena: Princess Warrior.” The show had Lucy, a hot tall brunette, with a hot short blonde lover/girlfriend and they fought other hot women. Or as it as otherwise known: that show guys masturbated to a lot.

In the steroid perjury trial of Barry Bonds, his ex-mistress, Kimberly Bell, testified steroids made Bonds’s testicles shrink, he had penile dysfunction, back acne, he threatened to kill her and he might go to prison. Well kids, if you don’t run out and get some steroids now, you’re crazy.

In Ft. Myers Florida, a high school honors student stole a gun and pistol-whipped her mother to buy her a sports car. Keep in mind, this is a Fort Myers, Florida honors student. That’s sort of like being the skinniest contestant on “The Biggest Loser.”

Since you asked:

Can’t wait for “Win Win” to come out. An Indie movie about a high school wrestling coach and his troubled star wrestler starring Paul Giamatti and Alex Shaffer respectively.

Lex’s wrestling story:

Was quite the skilled wrestler as a Sixth grade youth, if I do say so. Went through everyone in my grade at my school with easy pins. (Including my bestest buddy, Foxhole Woody, who weighed the same as me then, but whom I have since outdistanced in weight by too much)

So, in Seventh grade, I was recruited to be on the Carlton Washburn Junior High wrestling team. First, in practice as a test, I wrestled a kid my weight, 120 lbs albeit a year older. Easy pin. (There weren’t hardly any Seventh graders on any of the teams, the size gap at that age is too big)

Our coach was a great guy, Mr. Duma, who was a Division one full-scholarship wrestler at Northwestern before becoming a history teacher. Keep in mind, wrestling is big in the land of the Big Ten. Whether it is Iowa or Iowa State or Northwestern, they usually dominate the NCAA championships.

As we had an eighth grader on our team in my same weight class, Mr. Duma decided to start testing me by moving me up ten pounds to the 130 lb class – and still, a year older than me. Several meets, several easy 30 seconds to one minute pins.

“We don’t have anyone in the heavier divisions,” Mr. Duma said, “So as long as you keep winning, is it OK if I move you up in weight class?”

Sure, I said, not knowing any better.

Most wrestlers dangerously try and lose weight –starving and sitting in steam rooms for hours before a match - so they can wrestle in lighter divisions than they really are. Not me. My coach kept moving me up in heavier weight divisions.

Next few meets I was in the 146 division, twenty-six pounds over my weight and a year older. Hard fought at first, but, in the end, pins. This was way more fun. The matches were closer and I was still winning.

The way it worked was, at 146 pounds in Eighth grade, these kids were big, but, honestly, fat and not fit athletes. The match would be even at first, but as they got tired, I had an advantage, even though I was smaller. And I was better coached.

Mr. Duma was a good coach. He taught us moves the other wrestlers didn’t know and couldn’t stop. We were on a roll. With solid wrestlers at the lighter divisions and me being a faux-heavier weight, we racked up wins. Its fun being on any winning team. Although fully aware of the homophobic jokes surrounding the sport, wrestling was starting to grow on me simply because I was good at it.

It gave me a lot of pride to see how proud Mr. Duma was of me and how he bragged to the other team’s coaches that I was wrestling – and winning – two classes above my weight class giving away over 25 lbs as well as a year in grade.

“Can you imagine how Alex will do next year if he wrestles in his own weight class?” Mr. Duma asked us at practice one day. “It won’t even be fair.” Everyone laughed. Man, I was excited.

Most Junior High teams didn’t have a kid big enough to be in the 160 pound division, but when we came up against one, Mr. Duma entered me against him, that's how much confidence he had in my wrestling. Imagine that? A 120 lb Seventh grader in the 160 lbs division, 40 pounds over his weight? And, once again, a year older. And yet, I was excited by the challenge.

Until I saw who I was going to wrestle.

First of all, no way this oaf-clown was only 160 lbs. He had to be at least 170. Possibly nearly 50 pounds heavier than me. From a percentage standpoint, well over a third bigger than me. Instinctively I knew this was a step too far.

Secondly, he was an ugly, scary-looking red-headed freckled dumb, bully-looking hick. Two more things I would soon find out about him: he was a damn good wrestler, and most importantly, he stunk like a manure-drenched goat with a rotten-meat-like body odor that would have gagged a drunk Frenchman.

From the first second of the match, I was thrown around the mat like a mackerel flopping on the deck of a fishing boat, struggling to breathe from underneath a nasty, sweaty and unbelievably smelly red-hair arm pit. To this day, I can remember wondering how it was possible that this blotchy-skinned, acne-ridden mouth-breathing moron could possibly stink so horribly.

Somehow, by sheer will and survival instincts, I barely kept from being pinned. (As I was undefeated to this point, I sure wasn’t going to allow myself to get pinned)

It was a home meet, when the official raised this jamoke’s stinky, sweaty hand as the victor, I walked off the mat headed right for the Silkwood-like shower to get this idiot’s stench off of me. I said two words to my wrestling mentor, Mr. Duma, as I walked past him:

“I quit.”

Poor Mr. Duma. He begged and pleaded with me to return. He threatened punishments, he offered bribes, he called my parents, he called my advisor. He felt terrible about moving me up too many weight classes. He felt my quitting such a promising wrestling career was all his fault. He alternated between rage that I quit and guilt that it was his fault.

It wasn’t his fault, he was a good man. It was the fault of that fat-assed rancid Alfred E. Newman-lookalike who made me quit. More realistically, the thought of having to wrestle somebody like him ever again is why I quit.

Although a pure sport, like boxing, that pits two people against each other without any gear, wrestling is a sweaty, fleshy, painful, gritty, gay-looking sport. And I really didn't like it that much, I was just good at it. So quitting was easy.

One day, Mr. Duma called me into his office and, as it has now been forever, I don't remember exactly what he said, but I do remember the essentials;

“I’m not saying this to get you back,” Mr. Duma said, “You can do whatever you want, I'm not going to beg. But if you stay with it and wrestle in your weight class, let me coach you next year, you will eventually win an Illinois state high school championship, I guarantee it. You could get a full scholarship to Northwestern.”

Was it true? Who knows? It was nice of him to say, but in the words of David Letterman:

Ahhhhh, uh, no diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.”

That year I believe I was 15-1. It has been a long time, so I can't swear all the weight classes and match results and match times are exactly right. But I do know all my wins were all pins well above my weight class, my one loss was a decision against a putrid ginger-haired Andre-the-Giant freak. That decision turned out to be a decision to never wrestle again.

The moral? Do not push kids too hard or too far in sports. No matter how good they are, once they reach the breaking point, that is it.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

This just in:

Bill Maher calls Sarah Palin the C-word. Gosh, if we're not careful, all this political acrimony could cause things to get a tad uncivil.

Congrats to all the hardworking folks here at a.L.b.b. It appears we are in the running for three J.D. Power and Associates awards.

You say Gadhafi, I say Kaddafi, you say Qaddaffi, I say ugly lunatic terrorist. Let's bomb that New-York-magazine-vendor looking mofizzy until he sharts his tunic.

"You, you, you m-m-missed the cut-off man, n-n-n-now th-th-that is something I want you to work on in the off-season."

It has been made very clear to me what my job is: I smiled, waved my little cap, now when do I get paid, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers?

11th seed VCU will play 8th seed Butler in the final four of the NCAA tournament. There is actually a name for those who say they picked VCU to play Butler: Liars.

Kirsty Alley and comedian George Lopez are engaged in a Twitter feud. Lopez called Alley a dancing pig, and she called him a drunk and demanded he return the kidney his ex-wife donated. Let’s all hope this doesn’t get ugly.

In Texas, a 10-year-old boy mad over being punished, jumped in his mom’s SUV and sped off until police followed and the kid had a crash. The boy is fine. If by fine you mean in a timeout for the rest of his natural life.

Kirsty Alley and George Lopez are in a feud. Lopez called Alley a dancing pig, and Alley called him a drunk, demanding he return the kidney his ex-wife donated. And then Chris Brown threw a chair at both of them.

Don’t judge Kirsty and George. Everyone celebrates Kindness and Geniality Week in their own way.

London’s Diagram Prize for the oddest book title went to: “Managing a Dental Practice: The Ghengis Khan Way.” Second prize for the oddest book title? Charlie Sheen’s new book: “Winning with Tiger Blood, Adonis DNA While Feasting on Troll Bones.”

According to the latest census statistics, one-sixth of all Americans are Hispanic. This comes as quite a shock to Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar. That means three of their 19 kids are Hispanic.

You know who has a rough job at NBC? The guy who films the promos for “The Voice.” He has to figure out ways to pose Christine Aguilera so she doesn’t look like she just ate an entire Justin Bieber.

Since the revolution, Egyptian tourism is down and they’re begging Americans to travel to Egypt. Personally, I can think of two reasons why Americans won’t travel to Egypt: Anderson and Cooper. They beat that little guy like an unruly red-headed step child.

Have you seen the commercials for NBC’s “The Voice”? I don’t want to say Christine Aguilera has gotten heavier, but today she botched the lyrics to Chili’s “I want my baby back ribs.”

Since you asked:

Anyone who has read this sad drivel of a blog knows my love for rockumentaries - or any rock movie - is unending. So it was with great anticipation I saw the classic rock opera “Tommy” available On Demand.

My memory of seeing “Tommy” when it came out was fuzzy. (Read: one of my first altered-state movie experiences) But I remember it starred a lot of my favorite stars on earth, Ann Margaret, Eric Clapton, The Who, (notably Pete Townsend, Roger Daltry and Keith Moon) Elton John, Oliver Reed and Jack Nicholson.

So how bad could it be?

Oh... my... word.

To say this movie is torture is to say the Hindenburg was an unpleasant traveling experience. The director, Ken Russell – to paraphrase my old friend Drew Pitt – should be taken out, shot, brought back to life, gang raped by a tribe of Masai warriors and shot again.

Death by ungahbungah.

To borrow some concepts from “Tropic Thunder”a nut-less monkey getting punched in the face by the key grip and best boy could have made a better movie.

How is it even possible to make Eric Clapton look like an utter idiot when he is playing and singing a blues classic? Don’t know, but this quivering pile of bat poop director, Ken Russell, somehow manages it. Clapton’s guitar strumming is a solid half-beat off the song.

“Tommy” is a filmed testimony of how drug abuse can bring down the quality of an entire civilization, let alone a single movie. The only explanation of how a movie can end up being so horrible and ridiculous is that everyone involved was so coked-out and gacked-up they weren’t thinking straight.

It as if the director continually shouted at these vastly talented people;

“No, I want it more annoying, more stupid, more senseless. Now go snort a huge pile of blow and try and be as awful as you possibly can, then make it ten times worse.”

There is one decent scene with a good song; that’s when Roger Daltry runs through fields and beaches singing “I am Free.” Besides that, I would rather clean out the inside of a Port-a-Potty at a Metallica concert with my toothbrush than see this movie again.

On the other hand, I like those movies, "Long Kiss Goodnight" and "Bourne Identity" where the protagonist suddenly discovers their spy skills.

I'm sorta like that only I was a 16th century Prussian warrior. I can cook, tell stories, play an instrument, grill, mend wounds, fight/wrestle, ride horses, run, have good balance on water, make fires, be strong, balance and I can intuitively sharpen a knife until you can shave with it. All skills needed for the old days of battle.

No real point here, just bragging.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Rest in peace, I always liked Geraldine. She reminded me of the woman at the grocery store wearing golf clothes sniffing the cantaloupes.

Kind of like this

And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you fowever, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

(“Princess Bride” Impressive Clergyman)

The terms OMG and LOL have been added to the Oxford Dictionary. I think I speak for a lot of people when I say; WTF?

Do you like the NCAA tournament? My brackets are all messed up. I had Duke defeating Casey Abrams, but then the judges voted to save him.

In his memoir, former Van Halen singer, Sammy Hagar, claims he was abducted by aliens. It turns out it was a mistake, like everyone else, the aliens really wanted David Lee Roth.

In San Diego, a naked woman had to be rescued from the cliffs on her way down to the nude beach. Notice how I refrained from saying they snatched her up?

“American Idol” covered Motown and did you see that outfit Steven Tyler had on? Even Stevie Wonder said; “Dude, that outfit looks gay.”

Hall of fame Giants linebacker Lawrence Taylor was convicted of hiring an underage prostitute. Taylor said, when it comes to prostitutes; “You never know what you’re gonna get.” I think the more appropriate “Forrest Gump” line is; “Stupid is as stupid does.”

In Orange County, a 100-year-old man married a 93-year-old woman. Apparently he likes himself that young stuff.

The airlines are considering creating a separate area in the back of the plane for people traveling with children. Children in the front of the plane kept waking up the drunk pilots.

The “American Idol” contestants sang Motown songs. But I think the contestants are too young to appreciated Motown; like that one contestant who kept trying to wave hello to Stevie Wonder.

Last week was the season finale of “Jersey Shore.” Finally the cast can get back to working on their doctoral thesis on quantum physics.

Is it just me, or do these songs sound the same?

Tommy James “Draggin’ the line” and Chili’s “I want my baby back ribs.”

Conan O’Brien’s “Conan” theme song and the Beatles “Lady Madonna.”

“Slice of Heaven” Dave Dobbyn and Herbs and Rolling Stones “She’s so cold.”

Steve Miller “Keep On Rockin Me, Baby” and Eagles “Take it Easy.” (Think about it. "Well I'm workin' real hard and I'm tryin' to find a job . . ." "Well, I'm runnin' down the road tryin' to loosen my load . . ."

Wow did I make something on the grill last night that was fun and easy:

Lex’s Chicago style meets New York meets California grilled pizza

Started with buying uncooked pizza dough from my local awesome bakery. It was an inch thick on the rim and about a half an inch in the middle. Perfect inside-the-pizza-stone size.

Brushed dough with olive oil on both sides. Sautéed diced onion, garlic and three mild pork sausage until brown. Drain the fat.

Liberally smear on tomato sauce on dough. Liberally spread around the sausage/onions and put on (I get them in a jar) cooked red peppers. Now douse thickly with Italian cheese, namely shredded mozzarella with some parmesan cheese. Top with pepperoni and diced black olives.

Turn all burners on the gas grill on high, let it get hot (500 degrees) place the pizza on the pizza stone on top of the pizza grilling platform you buy at your local barbeque store. (It is just a stainless steel two and a half inch tall rectangle platform you place on the grill)

Shut the top and let her cook for 17 minutes. Or until the outer crust is golden brown and the cheese is all gorgeous and bubbling and the pepperoni is shriveling and sizzling.

Garnish with fresh basil and parsley leaves, and Bob is your freaking Uncle. Pop a Fat Tire beer and watch that NCAA tournament, bitches.

Couple years ago . . .

I was at our awesome bakery, the Village Mill, when I bought a bag of the most awesome hamburger buns. Very light, sweet. Saw a loaf of Challa bread and I told Ann Caroline, aka The Stinker, Stinkasaurus, Stinkalinkadingdong, Stinkerbell:

"You know why you can't have any Challa bread?" (Pronounced hallah, as you know)

"No, why?" she asked, sweetly. To which I busted into my best Gwen S.:

"''Cause you ain't no Challa bread girl,
No, you ain't no Challah bread girl."

She laughed and laughed and laughed.

Now, at coming up on 13, she would die of embarrassment.