Saturday, December 23, 2006

It is hard out here

We got the merry Chrisizzy up in this humpty bumpy, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Man it is cold. This morning I was shaking like Rosie O’Donnell’s publicist.

Christmas time
Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan are still running around together right up to Christmas. Or as we call Paris, Linday and Britney this time of year; Ho, Ho, Ho.

Oh sure, that’s it
A man who resembles Santa Claus was kicked out of Disney World because officials felt he was confusing children. Oh, but a huge talking dog wearing a giant hat named Goofy, that doesn’t confuse kids at all. Nope, that’s fine.

What are the odds?
“The Views” Rosie O’Donnell is involved in another ugly celebrity feud, this time with Donald Trump. First Rosie insulted Kelly Ripa, then the entire country of China and now Trump. Wouldn’t be funny if it turns out Star Jones is the nice host from “The View”?

Christmas cheer
Today is that very special time of year when you give that certain someone a present that says; “Dear Boss, Sorry I called you a bonehead, it was the egg nog talking.”

Today is that special day when you give somebody a card that says; “Could you please give me all the photo copies of my naked butt from the company party?”

Which one do you go with?
“The Views” Rosie O’Donnell is in an ugly fight with Donald Trump. Boy, who do you cheer for in this one? On the one hand you have a dude who is really pompous blow-hard egomaniac with bad hair, and then you also have Donald Trump.

“The Views” Rosie O’Donnell is in an ugly fight with Donald Trump. Come on you two, it’s Christmas, kiss and make up. On second thought, nobody wants to see that.

It worked before
Once again, Rocky is #1 at the box office. Apparently America can’t get enough of dim-witted guys who are hard to understand. Hey, it got President Bush re-elected.

Disney too
A man who looks like Santa Claus, was kicked out of Disney World. Disney felt that the man created a conflict by pretending to be a mythical character. And if there is one thing Disney won’t tolerate, it is promoting mythical characters to kids.

Long night
Thursday was the longest night of the year. Especially if you saw “Deck the Halls.”

Yo, what's-your-name
Once again, Rocky is #1 at the box office. The first Rocky came out in 1976 but things were a lot different then. The Middle East was in turmoil, the Rolling Stones were on tour and Jack Nicholson was sleeping around with a lot of hot women.

“The Views” Rosie O’Donnell is in an ugly fight with Donald Trump. Just yesterday Donald Trump called Rosie a bully, a liar and a loser. And today, Rosie shot back: she ate Donald Trump.

It is hard out here

We got the merry Chrisizzy up in this humpty bumpy, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Oh, snap
Legal experts in Iraq had predicted that, if everything had gone well at Saddam Hussein’s trial, he would be hung by now; this also marks the first time that the words Saddam Hussein and well hung have ever appeared together.

P.Diddy Snooped a Dog
P. Diddy’s line of Sean John brand jackets were removed by Macys because they were made with dog fur. Gosh, how did they find out? You don’t suppose it was when somebody wore the jacket in the rain and stunk like a wet dog, do you?

This explains the jacket’s care label. “When jacket becomes wet, stand next to the closest human available, shake vigorously until all the water is on said human.”  

They suspected there was a problem when customers complained that the jackets shed.

Legal bagles
You know Borat, right? It turns out, because the Borat movie made a lot of money and the people in it look really stupid, the comedian who plays Borat, Sacha Baron Cohen, is being sued by almost everyone in the movie. And now Mel Gibson is suing Cohen. For starting the Iraq war.

Since you asked:
Can I tell you what sucks? When I was 14, 15, 16 and 17 I played high school football. (That did not suck, it was awesome until my senior year, but I won’t go in to that)

My position was a running back. Between blocking and carrying the ball, I got hit hard by at least one football player, sometimes as many as four, at least fifty times a game. That means getting tackled, blocked, or tackling, blocking them, and generally getting whacked and knocked to the ground fifty times in a couple of hours. How many times did I get hurt during those football games? None. Zero. How many plays did I miss due to even being slightly injured, like the wind knocked out of me? None. Zero. So 12 games times four years times 50 tackles equals about 2400 tackles. Double that at least for practice and that makes 5,000 tackles.  

My freshman year in high school I broke a rib in practice late-summer two-a-days falling on a face mask, but I didn’t know it and played that whole year. It wasn’t until it calcified into a big lump by November that I knew it had been broken. The next year I scored 20 touchdowns for the sophomore team and I didn’t miss a play. My junior year, I slightly cracked a bone in my right foot by my big toe but played all year with that. Along the way I broke a nose, three fingers, one more rib, but not during games. Sure, my senior year I tore a hamstring that would end up messing me up for life, but that wasn’t during a game, that was in the pre-season.  

Now I am in my well into my forties and, obviously, I no longer play football. All I am trying to do is stay in shape. This time of year it is tough to say in shape with all the parties, but I am hanging in there.

All I do is 20 to 40 minutes of cardiovascular exercise, either on a bike, an elliptical machine or a run, and then some weights but mostly plyometric-oriented calisthenics, like push ups, crunches, leg lifts, big bal crunches, leg lunges, about three our four times a week. Five if I am being good.

Right now I have three cases of serious tendonitis. One in my left knee, one under my left foot and a bad one on my left wrist. Got that? By merely trying to stay in shape, I have sustained three injuries. Football games and practices after 5,000 tackles? Nothing. Mild working out in my forties? Three.

That sucks.

Friday, December 22, 2006

It is hard out here

Who you callin’ a ho ho ho, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers?

A runner in the women’s 800 meters at the Asian games was stripped of her silver medal after she failed a gender test. This marks the first failed gender test since Camilla Parker Bowles’ physical.

Man it is cold. This morning I was shaking like Tom Cruise taking a gender test.

I was shaking like Miss USA waiting for her pregnancy test.

Miss USA, Tara Conner, nearly lost her title. She was accused of excessive drinking, promiscuity drug use and public lesbian displays. Or as Britney Spears calls that, Thursday.

Miss USA, Tara Conner nearly lost her title because she was kissing Miss Teen USA; well, if this Miss USA gig doesn’t work out she can always become a Carolina Panther Cheerleader.

Now that is what I call a download
Experts predict that people will soon be able to have sex with their computers. To which many avid male computer users excitedly said; “That’s great. What’s sex?”

Joy stick sold seperately.

Experts predict that people will soon be able to have sex with their computers. That means you will soon be able to download porn from the Internet on to your computer of a web cam shot of you having sex with your computer.

Bill Gates must be so proud.  

Pander Bear
“Time” magazine named everybody person of the year; isn’t that the most shameless attempt at sucking up to people you’ve ever heard? That is so beneath you, you absolutely the greatest blog reading audience in all of history.

Uh, no Sir, that’s not, oh forget it
A New Delhi runner in the women’s 800 meters at the Asian games was stripped of her silver medal after a failed gender test. It was awkward, when informed the woman failed her gender test, President Bush said; “That can happen if you don’t study. Believe me, I know.”

Experts predict that people will be able to have sex with their computers. There are different programs for having sex with a computer.

The lesbian version of the computer sex program is called “Rosie O’Download.”

The gay male version of the computer sex program is called “Brokeback Mounting.”

The straight male version of the computer sex program is called “Carmen Electricuted.”

The straight female version of the computer sex program is called “Go Get a Damn Vibrator.”

No problem
Miss USA, Tara Conner, nearly lost her title because she was groping Miss Teen USA at a bar. Let’s discuss this trend of hot women making out with each other in single bars. Essentially it is nothing but a tawdry attempt to get attention merely to titillate men. And we are fine with that.    

Miss USA, Tara Conner, nearly lost her title because she was groping Miss Teen USA at a bar. What’s the big deal? Men know that there are only two kinds of women: those who admit that they are bi-curious and women who are lying-through-their-teeth about being bi-curious.

Ya cain’t get thah from heah, Amigo
Authorities in Maine arrested three illegal Mexican immigrants. The Mexican immigrants were booked until the Maine authorities could figure out what the hell they were. “Why, Chester, them fellas yonder is speaking some kinda foreign language I do believe.”

This is so weak
After worrying all night, Donald Trump gave a crying and grateful Miss USA a second chance. In other words, (wait for it, wait for it) a tired Trump reiterated that a teary Tara retains her Tiara.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

It is hard out here

Christmas snippity snap holy, you-know-what, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

There was another outbreak of E. coli, this time at an Olive Garden in Indianapolis. First Taco Bell now Olive Garden. What’s it coming to when you can’t get a bad fake foreign meal without getting sick? Next thing you know the Scottish food at McDonalds will get you.

There was another outbreak of E. coli, this time at an Olive Garden in Indianapolis; customers first became aware of a serious problem when they suddenly realized they were eating in an Indianapolis Olive Garden.

There was an outbreak of E. coli at an Olive Garden in Indianapolis; just when you think things can’t get any worse for Kevin Federline, his customers get sick on his first day as a waiter.

“Time” magazine named all of us Man of the Year. Wait a second, weren’t Adolph Hitler and Joseph Stalin named man of the year? I think we all just got insulted.

“Time” magazine named all of us Man of the Year and with a mirror-like cover. This isn’t going to be good for all the dumb guys out there. “Hey, baby, did you know that I am “Time’s” Man-of-the Year? See, that’s me in on the cover. Hey, now it’s you. What’s going on here?”

What has the world come to when you can’t get a great Italian dinner in Indianapolis? Indianapolis’s idea of Italian food is a hamburger topped with Mozzarella cheese.

A study claims injections of Botox relieves constipation. Botox may relieve constipation, but the problem is that your facial expression will seem even more constipated.

A survey reveals that American-made condoms are usually too big for men in India; guys, use that the next time a New Delhi tech support operator tells you your hard drive is too small.

The United States announced that we will provide nuclear fuel to India for power for the Indian people; upon hearing this, President Bush replied; “Uh, excuse me, but I believe the correct term is Native American people.”

Miss USA, Tara Conner, nearly lost her title after her drunken lesbian make-out scene in a bar with Miss Teen USA. Patrons at the bar were so upset they gave the two girls one hour to cut it out.

It is hard out here

My Latest Writing Adventure

Somehow I got hired by “Seinfeld” and “Curb Your Enthusiasm” creator Larry David to be part of a patchwork contingent of celebrities, comedy writers (clearly I was the designated unknown comedy writer) and scientists to travel to a remote tropical island off South America - which I cannot name due to a State Department issued hush order - to study and document a report on global warming.

Everyone was very excited at first but the trip was hastily put together and nobody had a clear idea what they were supposed to do. As it was funded by HBO, there was a film crew tagging along to document our journey so the entire event took on the look and feel of a beyond-chaotic-Robert –Altman movie shoot.

The problem, as we soon discovered, was that Larry David’s love of improv and spontaneity did wonders on his show, but it did not translate into planning a successful scientific expedition. The scientists were woefully under-equipped and uniformed and the wild and flamboyant behavior of the celebrities just furthered the air of confusion.

At first, however, the exhibition seemed charmed as we started in four old propeller planes from Mexico feeling very “CNN” and “National Geographic”-like in our Ray Ban aviator glasses, Khaki shorts, Tommy Bahama shirts and Timberline hiking boots. And then, once on the plane, we all received celebrity goody bags to reward our participation.

After snooping around, I noticed that not all the goody bags were created equal. The celebrity goody bags were far more expensive and lavish consisting of exotic skin creams, perfumes and rather expensive and diamond encrusted jewelry.

My gift bag consisted of a cheesy, frail “I’m with stupid” (arrow) t-shirt you’d find at a Tijuana tourist trap along with the kind of gifts you might get in a fast food kids meal. OK, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it wasn't good.

Of course the celebrities were highly upset as they all believed everyone else’s gift bag was better than theirs. (Tara Reid specifically threw a huge hissy-fit over the what-she-considered inferior aroma therapy candles)

When we landed, we were shown to our quarters which were nothing more than a ramshackle collection of third world shacks, huts and hovels. Suddenly we were not feeling as brave and adventurous when faced with the dire prospect of surviving with no Hi Def TVs, no air conditioning and, gulp, no mini bars. But the discovery that the main hotel had a well-stocked bar lifted everyone’s spirits considerably, so-to-speak.

In short, we proceded to get hammered.

After a wild party, in which a very nice, but inebriated, Lindsay Lohen sent me in search of a cup of ice to sooth her unexplainably chafed nipples, we were suddenly rounded up for a scientific excursion. Emboldened by the belief we were going to make a real difference in the environment - not to mention emboldened by the vast consumption of rum and tequila - we staggered over to and piled into the rusty jeeps and trucks and tore off in a cloud of dust to research a lava field.

When we got to this big black rocky field filled with giant ant-hill-like mini volcanoes spewing steam, the scientists – armed with nothing more than white coats and clipboards – stuck their hands over the steam, insightfully proclaiming that they were hot; this brilliant discovery of clear evidence of global warming sent us clamoring and cheering back to the jeeps and the hotel bar. So far, mission accomplished.

On the bumpy dirt road back to the village, one of the B-list actresses stopped to adopt a small pretty brown island child, on camera of course, despite the visible objections in angry Spanish of the child’s parents.

What soon becomes clear is that this entire escapade was fueled solely by the arrogance of celebrity. Just because they were well-intentioned and rich and famous, they thought that, merely by being there, they could create a meaningful contribution to, not just informing the world of global warming, but actually finding a solution to fix it.

It was soon clear, however, that this group, left to their own devices, couldn’t solve a puzzle in “Highlights” magazine.

The next day, Larry David himself takes us on what-would-be the final scientific excursion out into a bay to measure a melting glacier. (A small glacier off a tropical island would seem to be more proof of global freezing than global warming but nobody seemed to care)

As L.D. as we called him, takes off in a Klondike raft, it becomes apparent that he didn’t know how to steer the boat and it sank one-hundred-yards off shore. So, at the urging of Ted Danson, we had to swim out in the icy blue water to fish him out.

As the inevitable poor planning and under preparation began to become apparent and unravel this once-noble exhibition, a feel of a paranoid “Heart-of-Darkness” like revolt started to arise. First people commandeered the best accommodations by force - as well as the good goody bags - but then it started to escalate into a rising panic to flee the area entirely.

Other odd events transpired including my ill-conceived and ill-prepared participation in an all-comers track meet. This left me so exhausted, I over-slept by an entire day only to wake to discover that the majority of the exhibition had left in a rush, abandoning a straggling handful of us in the lurch.

With no camera crew.

The hotel bar bill became an immediate and growing concern of mine.

Those of us who had been abandoned had our belongings heaped into a pile of luggage and tropical clothes on the dirty cheap tile floor of the hotel lobby. We sifted through the pile searching for our clothes, wallets and passports.

“I have simply got to become better organized when I travel,” I scolded myself out loud.

Just then automatic gun fire echoed in the cobblestone streets just outside the hotel scaring the living hell out of us. That was when we learned the reason for our crew’s hasty exit: the island was under a violent military coup.


A tan, confident, chiseled bald Bruce-Willis-look-alike with well-capped teeth saddled over to me and slyly informed me that he knew how to stop this coup and he wanted to enlist me to go with him. Greatly relieved and flattered, I simply knew this guy had to be a former SEAL or CIA agent, I quickly agreed. He covertly snuck a shiny handgun in my pants pocket so, somewhat questionably armed, we boldly skulked off.

Utilizing comical evasive running techniques (Think: “The In-Laws” “Serpentine, Shel”) we made our way, house by house, casa-by-casa, to the dirty-white stucco main government building across the street which, we had just been informed by frightened and hidden locals, had been overrun by the blood-thirsty guerrilla fighters.

“So why do they call them gorilla fighters?” asked my CIA/SEAL partner.


“I mean, is it because they are found in the jungles? I mean, what do big apes have to do with anything?”

Needless to say, this did not increase my confidence in the qualifications of this fighting hero, so,
after we broke and climbed through a back window, I enquired as to my covert friend’s espionage training.

“So, are you secret service? FBI? Special forces? What?”

“Oh, I’m not in the military, I’m an actor.” Sensing my silent disappointment, he added;

“But I tried out for a role as a spy for a TV pilot once.”

“Oh, well that makes me feel so much better about going into combat. Did you get the part?”

“Nahh, that frickin’ Pauly Shore knows too many damn people in the business.”

We peered into the first office we saw, guns poised by our ears, movie-style. There, on his knees, in front of a recently blown and-still-smoldering safe was a sweaty, charcoal-blacked-faced guerilla soldier, menacing machine gun at-the-ready on the floor beside him.

The soldier was greedily stuffing fistfuls of wadded local currency from the safe into his pockets. Pointing our guns at him, signaling non-verbally like we’ve seen in the movies, my wanna-be actor/wanna-be-spy and I jumped in to the room and screamed together in quivering broken Spanish:

“Halt. No bueno quesadilla. Tu hermana is muy feo. Raise your hands, I mean, abras los hands, er, tu manos, I mean. Pronto. Sabes?”

Without bothering to turn back and look at us, the annoyed soldier cleared his throat, loudly scratched his butt and calmly, in perfect English, said:

“Go crap in your hands.”

We decided that this guy wasn’t important after all, so we continued or search for the coup’s leader.

Despite our collective lack of experience at over-turning a military coup, we boldly broke in to the office labeled El Presidente, kicking the door open, granted, on the fifth try, again, guns brandished.

The only thing in the big dingy office was a huge empty metal desk, a broken ceiling fan and a tiny middle-aged janitor sweeping up papers on the floor.

In broken English the janitor explained that, yes, there was a coup, but the guerillas decided that, since our film crew had left, that, without any publicity, this impoverished island country wasn’t really worth the trouble of taking over, so they had simply left and gone home.

“I just can’t catch a goddamn break,” hissed my bitterly disappointed and now dispondent actor/ partner.

Then, as we stood there, to my horror, he then slowly drew the gun barrel to his head, placed the barrel inside his mouth and then, despite my screaming "No!" he did the unimaginable: he took a huge chomp out of the apparently edible weapon, chewing loudly and slowly.


"Uh huh", he said sucking on and picking at his teeth.

He was right. Hard to bite into, but a really chewy and tasty liquorice flavor.

Later I found passage on a steamy, dusty broken-down passenger train headed north eventually back through Mexico to San Diego. How the train managed to negotiate from the island over the ocean is not addressed by the unspoken genius of my dream.

And then I woke up.

That’s it, no more microwave bean and cheese burritos after Eleven O’Clock.

But I like this as a pilot for HBO. Sort of a “Galaxy Quest” meets “Salvador” meets “Get Smart.”
Let’s do lunch. (No, Mark Snake, I have not lost my mind)

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

It is hard out here

Let’s bust a knot upside the knotty-head of those playa haters, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Not a good one
All the holiday specials are on TV, but some are better than others. For example I don’t think the Michael Richards special did well: “The KKK: Krazy Kramer Kwanza”

Better hurry
Only four days until Christmas. That means only three more shopping days to get Britney Spears some panties.

I did not know that
Happy 63rd Birthday to Keith Richards. Keith is preparing to play at a Christmas special. Keith is quite experienced at playing at Christmas specials, after all, he played at the first one.

Mark my words, if Keith keeps going, one of these years he is going to look his age.

Get it?
You’ve heard of Mel Gibson’s “Apocalypto”? There is another movie out about the ruin of an entire culture from Mexico, it’s called “Taco Bell-lypto.”

That explains it
A survey reveals that American-made condoms are too big for men in India; that explains the rush of women applying to emigrate from India to the United States.

Bad girl
DNA tests reveal that the stripper/accuser in the Duke Lacrosse team rape case had several male sex partners that same day before the alleged attack; she could be charged with lying to the grand jury and impersonating Paris Hilton.

Too tempting
“The Views” Rosie O’Donnell is in hot water for imitating fake Chinese by saying; “Ching chong ching chong chong.” Rosie has to be careful, if she keeps putting her foot in her mouth, she is eventually going to eat it.

A chauffeur threatened to kill Yoko Ono but it looks like he will walk, there are mitigating factors in his favor, namely Yoko would sing as they drove.

Double date
O.J. Simpson’s would-be-publisher, Judith Regan, was fired by her boss, Rupert Murdoch. But to show there were no hard feelings, Murdoch offered to pay Regan to go out on a double date with OJ Simpson and Robert Blake.

Nice to see for a change
There was a brawl at the New York Knicks Denver Nuggets game at Madison Square Garden; Punches were landed by both sides so it was exciting for the New York fans to finally see the Knicks finally hit some shots.

Why then?
O.J. Simpson’s would-be-publisher, Judith Regan, was fired by her boss, Rupert Murdoch. She was fired the week before Christmas. I mean she’s the one who wanted to publish O.J.’s murder book, couldn’t he have waited to fire her on Christmas day?

Ghost of the man in black
The Bee Gees’ Barry Gibb is buying Johnny Cash and June Carter’s Nashville home; Barry is having a problem moving in because some ghost keeps yelling; “Not the guy who sang “Stayin’ Alive. Nooooo. ”

A study from the U.C. Berkeley claims the human nose is better at smelling than we thought. In fact, the study discovered that the nose can actually smell marijuana a mile before it gets to Berkeley.

Enough already
The sixth Rocky is out “Rocky Balboa.” You can tell Rocky is getting up there in this one. Rocky wins his bouts by telling his opponents the same stories over and over until they quit.

The nose knows
A study from U.C. Berkeley claims the human nose is better at smelling than we thought. In fact, if a person is standing downwind of Kevin Federline, they can actually smell the abject failure.

No idea what he did with that
Happy Birthday, Keith Richards. People have wondered about Keith’s unique hairstyle. Keith used to take the money his parents gave him for a haircut to buy cigarettes, and then cut his own hair and he still does. No word on what Keith did with the money they gave him for skin lotion.

Nick the Knick
The NBA suspended seven players for a total of 57 games in due to the brawl at the end of a New York Knicks-Denver Nuggets game. In addition, the NBA penalized the Knicks even more: they did not suspend Isaiah Thomas, he can go on coaching. Come on, enough is enough.

Since you asked;
Can I say, after his hilarious stint as the host and musical host for “Saturday Night Live” that I officially remove Justin Timberlake from my list of “Things Lex Doesn’t Get.” He was damn funny as the dancing soup, the Hip Hop Kids and especially the Digital “D*ck In a Box.” That is up there in the “SNL” pantheon with Alec Baldwin’s “Schweaty Balls.”

Have to admit, I was unsure about “SNL” after Tina Fey left, but they are chugging right along as funny as ever. Strong, strong cast sans Sanz.

Let us review the current “Things That Lex Doesn’t Get.”

The “Monday Night Football” intro. Of all the things they could do they give us that?

High Definition Radio. What the hell?

Howard Stern. Never have got him, never will. He wants us to think he is doing the Don Rickles “I am a nice guy acting like a jerk” but in reality he is a real jerk acting like a nice guy who is acting like a jerk.

Sports Talk Radio. I should get this but I truly don’t. Maybe I don’t know which sports talk radio show to listen to, but all I’ve ever heard are hosts and guests who just love to hear themselves talk and show off how much they think they know.

Rite Aid. Why are they proliferating like cockroaches? One just opened up in our garage next to the Starbucks in our kitchen. The stores are ugly. The pharmacy is an “SNL” skit of snotty under achievers, the clerks are striving to be government workers. In general, it is how a store would be if it was run by the government. The DMV of drug stores.

“Lost” Please. “Gilligan’s Island” on blow.

“Dancing with the Stars” This may be a I-am-not-a-chick-or-gay thing.

Text messaging. I’ve said it before, I will say it again. Enough with the various methods of communicating, we all need to focus on increasing the quality of what we do say.

Scarlet Johanson. Ummm, almost there but nope.

Jessica Simpson. Man, I sure can see why you would get that, I just don’t.

Oprah. Don’t get me wrong, I think she is an amazing woman. But that whole Gayle and Steadman thing, where there is smoke there is an annoying celebrity. This definitely is a I-am-not-a-chick-or-gay thing.

Rosie O’Donnell. Didn’t that nasty court fight with that magazine she bought prove that she really is about as far from her overly hyped “Queen of Nice” image as she can be? Mark my words, in a year “The View” will be wishing they kept Star Jones. OK, maybe not that bad . . .

“The View.” See explanation for “Dancing With the Stars.”

Web Cams. “Hey, look at me, I’m a douche bag.” Again, too many ways to communicate without enough to say.

My Space. See: Web Cams.

Fantasy Football. I got that right until all my team had to do to make it to the finals was beat fairly easy 66 points. So what did they do? They took a collective nap on Sunday. Besides Peyton’s 24 points my five other starters averaged less than two points each. And that is after scoring almost 100 points last week. Gentleman, with the exception of Peyton and a poorly timed benched Laverneous “And Shirley” Coles, you have let down Thor’s Thunder and I am ashamed.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

It is hard out here

We gonna dabble in the babble up in this here up in here, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

To quote Borat: “I love the U.S. and A.”
Miss USA, Tara Conner, nearly lost her title. She was accused of excessive drinking, promiscuity, cocaine use and public lesbian displays. In short, she was charged with impersonating Paris Hilton.  

Miss USA, Tara Conner, nearly lost her title. She was accused of excessive drinking, promiscuity, cocaine use and public lesbian displays. About the only thing you can say about all of those charges is: USA! USA! USA! USA! Is this a great country or what?

Since you asked:
This is that time of year where our loved ones travel the length and breadth of this great country to be with their loved ones – wait, I thought they loved us? – for Christmas. The problem with that is that involves airline travel.

Here is a list of the Top Things You Don’t Want To Hear From The Stranger Sitting Next to You on a Plane.

“Uh oh, I can’t find Joey. Wow this is just like that movie; “Snakes on a Plane.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten at Taco Bell before we took off.”

“Excuse me, but my invisible friend Dewey is sitting there.”

“My name is Akbar. And what is being your name, you wretched infidel?”

“Whew, I was just at the bar and can our pilot pack away the booze.”

“Don’t you just love, love, love Ashlee Simpson? I just love, love, love Ashley Simpson.”

“Have you taken the time to learn about Scientology?”

“What is with that smoke coming from the wing?”

“Now, I know you think you have enough life insurance, but let me tell you something . . .”

And the number one thing you don’t want to hear from the stranger sitting next to you on a plane:

“Hello, my name is Kevin Federline.”

Monday, December 18, 2006

It is hard out here

You my Mondizzy road dogs, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Really mooooving those cows. Oh, I kill me . . .
A study by the U.N. reveals that cars are not the biggest threat to global warming, cows are; in a related story, sales of hybrid cars have dropped. But sales of hybrid cows are way up.

Or something like that
“The Views” Rosie O’Donnell is in hot water with Chinese Americans for imitating fake Chinese by saying “Ching chong ching chong chong.” Ironically, ching chong ching chong chong is actually Chinese for “I am one big scary lesbian.”

Rosie O’Donnell accused Kelly Ripa of being homophobic for saying she didn’t know where Clay Aiken’s hand has been, but then Rosie fires off an insensitive bad imitation of over a billion Chinese. On the bright side, Rosie was invited to Mel Gibson’s Christmas party.  

Aucun problème
“The Views” Rosie O’Donnell is in hot water with Chinese Americans for imitating speaking Chinese by saying “Ching chong ching chong chong.” That is inexcusable, you just cannot insult and offend an entire country like that. Unless, of course, it’s France. That’s OK.

Not nice
A survey reveals that American-made condoms are too big for men in India; in a related story, many mean-spirited American men are walking into convenience stores, ordering the extra big Magnum Trojan condoms and yelling at the clerk; “Eat your heart out, Apu.”

What a whimp
How tough is Lance Armstrong? It turns out that Lance ran his first marathon in under three hours with a broken leg. Really, X-rays show that Lance’s shin was fractured when he ran the 26 plus mile New York Marathon. Today, I didn’t use the elliptical machine because of the hiccups

You know what Christmas movie I saw last night? “A Christmas Carol” with Alister Simms. I swear, when Jacob Marley cries over Tiny Tim, I weep like a guy who found out his girlfriend wants him to take her to “Dreamgirls.”

What is in a name? Plenty
Now that his buzz is growing, more information is coming out about charismatic Illinois Senator Barack Obama. For example, it has been reported that Obama’s middle name is Hussein. If true, that couldn’t be worse for Obama followers than if his middle name was “Red States Suck.”

Since you asked:
As the work-at-home-designated late-afternoon-Mr.Mom guy, I am now in an unfamiliar territory: Hosting play dates for one or more friends of my eight-year-old daughter, Ann Caroline.

There is one Mom who is the play date Master. You go pick up your kid at her house and she tells you;

“Oh, they had a great time. First we drafted a proposal for the United Nations peace resolution in the middle east, then it was arts and crafts where the girls made a saltwater desalination plant out of Styrofoam cups, and then – this is so cute – the girls put together a little musical sketch that, thanks to an old friend from college who works in the theater, is going to debut next year on Broadway.”

After I host a play date, I inform the play date master Mom that;

“Oh, the girls had a great time. At least it sounded like they did. I was in my office with the door closed on the computer trying to write more Paris-Hilton-is-a-stupid-skank jokes and playing online checkers and listening to the Stones and AC/DC on iTunes while they watched TV in the playroom. Then I think they put in a DVD which could have been “Deadwood” for all I know, because I didn’t check to see if it was appropriate, and then, when that was over, they watched TV again. Oh, and they ate fudge.”

The play date master Mom just stares at me like I just told her I had tried to convert them to Scientology.

Time here at a.L.b.B. to answer reader mail.

Dear Lex:

So, uh, you need any help there at your blog? I know Microsoft Word and Excel. Oh, and I make a mean after-work Margarita. Just ask Condi.

Your ol’ Winnetka baseball field buddy,

Donald Rumsfeld.

Dear Don:

No, thanks, we are good for now. But that reminds me, I could brush off that sketch I wrote by updating it with your final press conference at the Pentagon.

That’s the one where you grow increasingly impatient and angry with the reporters until you finally morph into the meanest substitute teacher of all time and the press is reduced to sniveling scared little kids. You even put MSNBC’s David Gregory in a time out. (Yes, I know he is the White House correspondent, but it would still work)  

Dear Lex;

Did, I, uh, leave anything in your car the other night?


Dear Whomever the hell you are:

Um, no, that wasn’t me, (cough), you got a ride home that night from the bartender, remember?

Dear Britney,

No, honey, you left them in my car. At first I didn’t know what they were since I haven’t seen a pair in so long,


Dear Lex;

I am writing my Christmas letter to send to everyone but I am having a problem. Do you know how to spell incorrigible, incarcerated, intoxicated, inebriated and unintelligible?

That would be a big help,

Lindsay Lohan

Dear Lindsay;

No, but I think you also left something in Paris’s car.