Saturday, September 29, 2012
Scooty, dooty on the patooty,
Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
On their return to the NFL
during the Thursday night Baltimore Ravens-Cleveland Brown game, the regular
officials were cheered and then booed two minutes later. It was just like my Honeymoon.
“TLC” has ordered a second
season of “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.” That sound you hear is Satan laughing
with delight.
For those not familiar, “Here
Comes Honey Boo Boo” has all the class of “Toddlers and Tiaras” combined with
the intelligence of “Keeping Up with the Kardashians” minus the dignity of
“Hording: Buried Alive.”
Is it just me or does Mitt
Romney remind you of the chaperone at the high school dance trying to dance the
white man’s overbite?
Since you asked:
Catching up on “My Boys” on
Netflix. Between “My Boys”, “Perfect Couple”, “Weeds”, “Rescue Me”, “The
League”, “Parks and Recreation”, “30 Rock”, “Happy Endings”, “New Girl” and “Modern Family” as well as “Funny or Die”
there are some wildly talented comedian/actors out there. Many of them
currently unemployed and sitting on their futon in their Hollywood Hills popcorn-ceiling
studio apartment waiting for their agent to call.
And not all of them are in
the Apatow Mafia.
Where I Had The Best Drinks
What makes a great drink/bar?
Part ambiance, taste, experience, company and the context. If you just won the
lottery, the bar at Applebee’s would be the best if that is where you went to
celebrate. And I hate Applebee’s.
Six pack of Budweiser on
Goleta Beach after windsurfing all afternoon.
Mai Tai at Momma’s Fish house
in Maui after windsurfing all day.
Margarita at Jose’s Courtroom
in La Jolla after flag football game.
Blue Margarita in a paper cup
at the bar Cold Springs Tavern Santa Barbara
Triple Vodka Tonic at Joe’s
Bar and Grill in Santa Barbara
Old Style beer at the Caravel
in Chicago that served the best deep dish pizza.
Beers and vodka shots at P.J.
Clarks after my New York Times flag football team (of which I was the one legal
ringer who didn’t work there) won the publisher’s league title.
Scorpion at Trader Vics on
Central Park South.
Hand made mint julep at
Pendennis Club in Louisville.
Corona beer at Squid Row in
Cabo San Lucas because the beautiful nurse who bought it for me made me kiss
her for it.
Irish Coffee at the Buena
Vista in San Francisco.
The Aruba Ariba poolside at
the Hyatt after windsurfing all day on our honeymoon in Aruba. Two of those and
you cannot remember your pin number.
Champagne at the desk at night of my
then-girlfriend who worked on 100th floor of the World Trade Center
looking out at the Brooklyn Bridge.
Margarita at the Cantina in
Venice Beach, LA.
Ice cold Newman’s Own
lemonade at La Jolla Shores after stand up paddle surfing with leopard sharks
all day (didn’t say it had to be booze)
The dirty straight up vodka martini
I had at P.F. Chang’s to celebrate the birth of my daughter, Ann Caroline.
Champagne at Jakes in Del Mar
the night I got engaged to Virginia
The beer at a local bar near
Delta, Colorado after we got lost cross country skiing for an hour and found a
group who got us out of there five hours later.
The San Diego Sunset (Mount
Gay Rum, coconut water and a squeeze of lime) I am about to have right now
while grilling a filet mignon while watching the Ryder Cup.
Oh, my god, we got it, Ryder
Cup golfers. It’s a great course and you have a great partner and your
opponents are great golfers. There is such a thing as being too white. Don’t be
afraid to smack-talk it up a little out there.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we
were trying to hit it at the hole.”
“Your swing is beautiful.
Compared to yo’ momma.”
“Not hitting it very far is
another way to go.”
“You putt just reminded me, I
have to go take a dump.”
“Oh, that shot was a little
fat. How is your sister, anyway?”
“Right in the hole. How is
your sister, anyway?”
Thursday, September 27, 2012
All we need is love, Torn
Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
The NFL and the referees are
ending the lockout; now the replacement referees can go back to their old job:
putting shoes on the wrong foot at Foot Locker.
With only eight games left as
of this writing, the Chicago Cubs are only five loses from the infamous 100
loss season. 100 loses would officially make the Cubs the replacement refs of
Major League Baseball.
The Cubs can lose 5 games
standing on their heads. In fact, that is part of their problem, they play
standing on their heads.
Florida Republican
Representative, Mike Horner, had to quit his re-election bid after his name
appeared in a brothel investigation. And
he should resign. Not for going to a brothel, but for being stupid enough to
give them his real name.
The Green Bay Packer fans are
furious over losing to the Seattle Seahawks on a blown call. In one Wisconsin
bar, a patron was so upset he almost didn’t thank his bartender for his beer.
In one Milwaukee bar the
patrons almost rioted. Well, not rioted, but they did write a rather pointed
letter to the “Milwaukee Journal” Editorial section.
In Milwaukee, a bunch of beered-up
Packer fans drove over to the house of a known Seahawks fan and they were
intentionally stand-offish.
The NFL and the referees are
ending the lockout; now the replacement ref’s can go back to their old jobs:
Time Warner Cable operators who hang up on customer complaints.
Since you asked:
Saw a wildly weird and dark movie
last night. “Adaptation.” The cast outkicked the story’s coverage, Meryl
Streep, Nick Cage, Chris Cooper. The cast of “Being John Malkovich” makes a
cameo because the movie is about the writer of “BJM” except way darker and not
nearly as clever.
But the movie does focus on
one fascinating concept about life and death. Life is about love, we all know
that, right? But not about how much or how many people love you. It is about
how much you love.
This explains why so many
movie/ rock stars lead such tragic and sad lives. Marilyn Monroe lived her life
believing all would be good if she could get millions and millions of people to
love her, which they did. Yet her life was an utter mess because she was
incapable of loving anyone including herself. Especially herself.
It starts with loving
yourself. If you don’t why should anyone else?
That is why the movie “Toy
Story” is so poignant. What if the toys we loved so unconditionally as a child
loved us back? Without any doubt in my mind, I knew my stuffed doggy, Morgy,
loved me because I loved him so much. Guess what? He didn’t love me back and it
doesn’t matter. My love for Morgan/Morgy is a real live living and breathing
thing. (Still have Morgy, by the way)
That is what history’s most
self-actualized people figured out. Lincoln, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Albert
Schweitzer all knew. They didn’t do what they did to have people love them;
they just wanted to help and love as many people as they could.
We lost Wrigley in July. Now,
I know dogs are not people. But that doesn’t matter. Morgan wasn’t even a dog. We
loved Wrigley as much as you could love a person. That love was not dependent on his loving us back. He did, but that isn't the point.
Sometimes I like to take out my love for Wrigley and play with it, just like I can still play with Morgan, but I can't with Wrigley. I'll talk baby-talk to him and think about cuddling him. Sometimes it makes me laugh. Most times it makes me cry. But that love is always there and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
And it makes me feel better
to know I will always have that love, long after Wrigley is gone. Wrigley’s love
for Kasey was so great, it effectively ended his life in less than one year.
For the rest of my life I
will have and admire the love I had for Wrigley just like I will always be
impressed by the love Wrigley had for Kasey.
Ah, screw it. Let’s drink
some Newman’s Own lemonade.
Now that is love.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
The NFL replacements refs are so bad, the Cleveland Browns are laughing at them.
Monica Lewinski has signed a $14 mil. deal to write a tell-all book on her affair with President Bill Clinton. Something tells me the tone of the narrative will be very tongue-in-cheek.
A New York cab driver recorded Paris Hilton saying gay men disgusted her; in response, gay men said that comment was disappointing especially coming from one of the most famous transvestites in the world.
Since you asked:
Complaining about the weather in San Diego is a bit like complaining about the altitude in Aspen. Having said that, it has been over 80 and humid for two months straight. This is great for my SUP surfing, but not great for snoozing.
Last night was the first night I got to sleep with a blanket instead of just a sheet since my birthday on August 15th, and that was because I splurged on the A.C. and kept it down to 74 for the night.
These replacement refs bring to mind a skinny little 14-year-old boy trying to wrestle an out-of-control Harley Davidson Road King. You can hardly stand to watch and you know there is going to be an ugly crash.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
It be smellin' like burritos all up in this beeeeeeyaaaaaatch, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
The NFL substitute refs are blowing it so much they inspired Monica Lewinski to write a tell-all book on Bill Clinton.
The NFL substitute refs are blowing it so much they inspired Monica Lewinski to write a tell-all book on Bill Clinton.
Gay Men on Paris Hilton: "Bitch, please. As if your Fraggle-hair and man-hands and Owen Wilson Penis Nose Starter Kit and Holland-Tunnel vagina does it for us."
It is time to play:
Four nattily attired gay men in a Soho loft watch the end of the Seattle Seahawks/Green Bay Packer debacle:
Tyler: "Did you see how he pushed that guy from behind? I haven't seen anyone pushed from behind like that . . . "
Lawrence: " . . . Since you were drunk at last call at Fire Island Saturday night."
Simon: "Seriously, I am gay. I mean one-in-each-ear gay. And I know that was an interception."
Stephyn: "You're just mad because the team with the name you like the most lost, the Packers."
Tyler: "He thinks the first part of that should be Fudge...."
Lawrence: "And here I thought you like the Bears."
Tyler: "I like bears."
Simon: "Where did they hire these replacement refs from? Blockbuster Video?"
Stephyn: "This is the worst decision I have seen since since your S&M Cher Halloween costume."
Simon: "Oh, right, and your Submissive Dorothy and the Dominatrix Wicked Witch of the West was better?"
Tyler: "The Green Bay Packers just traveled 6,000 miles to get screwed. It was like my trip to Istanbul."
Since you asked:
There are some mistakes that are so heinous, the stench of the splatter never really fully comes off. Tiger Woods's tacky affairs. The San Diego Padres Brown and Yellow uniforms. New Coke. Nike co-founder, Phil Knight's, decision to publicly support Joe Paterno. Mick Jagger pretending to be bi-sexual. Astroturf and the designated hitter. "Caddy Shack II." Elton John marrying Kiki Dee. The alleged song, "Afternoon Delight" and the rancid 70's perfume, Cachet.
That is the kind of mistake the NFL's decision to lockout the refs and hire division III replacements is. As great as the NFL is, these fiasco calls and ruined games will forever taint its image.
How bad was the call last night? Chicago Bear fans feel sorry for the Green Bay Packers.
Dogs sleeping with cats. Mass hysteria.
Let's break this down. The NFL is our most beloved sport. We love our "National Pastime," but the NFL is our first love.
The NFL is now being officiated by Division III college refs. Division III college is about the same level of play as the top division in a big high school in a big state, which I played.
Many of our games were refereed by one of my old elementary school gym teachers, Aldo Felderman, a fat, short, ugly, stupid guy with a bad combover. This was a guy so inept, if he had his polyester shorts with cuffs zipper zipped 50% of the time, he was doing pretty well.
Guys like him are in charge of our true love, the NFL.
In other news:
Just saw a commercial that started with:
"If you use a catheter, I have some good news."
You know what? No you don't. The only good news for someone who has to use a catheter is:
"You don't have to use a catheter anymore."
Other than that it is barely mildly interesting news.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Get yo' beyatch-ass, punk-beyatch, beyatch-punk, punk-ass, beyatch-punk, punk-ass . . . now I forgot what I was going to say, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers.
Wow, are these substitute NFL refs making horrible calls; one actually recommended the Fettuccine Alfredo at the Olive Garden.
There are some amazing new apps on the new iPhone 5. One driving GPS app can actually predict when Lindsay Lohan or Amanda Bynes will crash into you.
Lex's eight easy steps for a fast, easy, healthy and tasty din-din
Step One: Buy really fresh Mahi-Mahi.
Step Two: pour 1 cup of rice and two cups of chicken broth into a rice cooker. Turn on.
Step three: boil asparagus for three minutes and then blanch in ice water. Drain and drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle sea salt. Let sit.
Step four: roast pine nuts in a no-oil pan until golden brown. Put them in a mortar with lemon zest, garlic powder, fresh basil leaves, a little olive oil, sea salt and pepper. Grind with pestle until it is like damp sand.
Step Five: dust the Mahi with Old Bay, garlic powder, sea salt and fresh pepper.
Step Six: throw the Mahi on the hottest part of the oak wood lump grill flip and turn 90 degrees every two and a half minutes for a total of ten minutes -depending on thickness - and it has nice cross-marks from the grill. Also throw the asparagus on the grill until you see some grill marks.
Step Seven: serve grilled Mahi with a dollop of either fresh pineapple (Newman's Own) salsa or tarter sauce. Sprinkle the pine nut pesto on top of the asparagus and serve it next to the rice. Serve with cold, dry, crisp chardonnay or Pinot Grigio.
Step Eight: Enough with the asparagus stinky-pee jokes already.
Tonichtity? Gonna work out then grill my paella-on-the-Weber. Then gonna watch my guy, Clay the Tres. Trice M-Boy. Clay, not one, not two, but thray. Triple dah Clay. Clay "Into the fray goes Tray." Clay "So nice they named him Thrice" Matthews III.
Clay, Clay, Clay gonna lay the hinky on they stinky.
Whaaaaaaaaaat?
Tonichtity? Gonna work out then grill my paella-on-the-Weber. Then gonna watch my guy, Clay the Tres. Trice M-Boy. Clay, not one, not two, but thray. Triple dah Clay. Clay "Into the fray goes Tray." Clay "So nice they named him Thrice" Matthews III.
Clay, Clay, Clay gonna lay the hinky on they stinky.
Whaaaaaaaaaat?