Friday, January 11, 2013

Cop a squat, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Man was it windy yesterday. It was blowing like the Lakers in the fourth quarter.

Charlie Sheen is seriously dating a porn star because he said this girl is faithful because she only does girl-on-girl porn. I think her name is Greek: Gina Lickalotapuss.

Oprah Winfrey is going to interview Lance Armstrong. Why would a once-world famous, but now washed-out steroid user want to do that? And besides Oprah, what’s in it for Lance?

A company, Mars One, is planning a trip to colonize Mars and needs volunteers who agree to go to Mars and never come back to earth. I think I speak for all of us when I wish bon voyage to the Kardashians, the cast of “Jersey Shore,” the Aflac duck, Paris Hilton and Donald Trump. 

Taco Bell made a customized Taco Bell Speedo at the request of a customer. Is that a burrito in your Speedo or are you happy to see me?

Man it was cold this morning. I was shaking like Brett Musburger at his marriage counselor session.

Man it was cold, I was shivering like a dry cleaner with Al Roker walking through the door.

A biographer of journalist, Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, revealed Thompson’s daily intake. It included waking up at 3:00 PM to cigarettes, coffee, scotch and cocaine. More scotch, cigarettes and cocaine, lunch of beer, margaritas, two cheeseburgers, onion rings, more cocaine, a hit of acid and more cocaine and scotch until six am. Or as Charlie Sheen calls this: Duh, winning.

Classic Wally moment last night.

We’d finished dinner, A.C. was getting ready to go upstairs and do homework and Virg was working on a customer’s loan on her computer, I was on the floor absorbed in a “Top Chef” marathon, when Ann Caroline and Virg start cuddling and fussing over Wally.

Right when Virg says out loud what a great, smart and well-behaved puppy we have, Wally gets shot with a full-blown case of puppy frenzy, takes off running, jumps up on the coffee table and hits my full glass of red wine with such force it sends the wine flying five feet on to the wall and the oriental rug.

Wally also had a huge red wine stain on his fur.

So, last night, I called him Gorbachev.