Saturday, December 29, 2007

Keeping it reel, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
John Kerry was instrumental in getting the NFL to air the Saturday New England Patriots-New York Giant game nationally and not just the little-viewed NFL Network. It turns out Kerry is a Patriot fan. No, wait, he is a Giant fan. Hang on, he’s also a Redskin fan.

The New Year is going to be a little embarrassing at the White House. President Bush is already going around wishing everyone a happy two double-naught eight.

Hollywood, Florida is getting the first Gay Retirement home. It’s like a regular retirement home except that, to add more flair, they play strip bingo.

Since you asked:

Got my narrow tookus in the wadoo yesterdiddy. Man, did I freeze. The waves were pretty good and the water was clear and clean thanks to little wind, but that stuff was 55 degrees. And the air was the same. Rode some rollers and shore breaks, paddled out about a mile and, after an hour of cruising in and out of the surf, came back in.

When I was carrying my board back to the car I was amazed at how tough my feet were as the road I park on in La Jolla Shores is really cracked up with lots of pebbles and it usually kills my dainty tootsies. My feet weren't tough. They were numb. They didn't get all of their feeling back until an hour later.

Get a load of this. Usually I park on the street in front of this big, beautiful beach house just south of the swanky Marine room restaurant in swanky La Jolla Shores. Many times the owner of the house comes out and chats. He is a charming old guy dressed as sharp as he can be. He always has a vest, a coat and a tie. And his wife is just as nice and well-dressed. One day I got to talking to their gardener - an old German guy who could double as Santa Claus - and he told me the old man is the founder of Victoria Secret.

No lie, next time I am going to ask him what the secret is.

So, yesterday, I am unloading my stuff in La Jolla Shores next to a kayaker loading up his stuff and we both have to be next to each other for a while so why not make it pleasant and converse? That was my thinking. Is there anything worse than giving somebody a second chance to not be (excuse my split infinitive) a jerk twice and have it blow up in your face?

Because that one is on you under the “Fool Me Once” proviso.

First, I should have known because this guy was kayaker at La Jolla Shores, that he was a big shot somebody in the medical field – or thought he was. For some reason kayaking at La Jolla Shores is big with the big shots in the medical community crowd.

Now, I know two avid kayakers who are really nice, but the vast majority of kayakers are to sufers like skiers are to snowboarders, they hate them. For whatever reason, competition for waves, or, since they are in a vessel, a sense of nautical superiority, they have taken a firm stance against surfers. Now, as I don't consider myself "a surfer" as I am not good or experienced enough, or a "snowboarder" but someone who happens to paddleboard and snowboard, I have run into this sport prejudice many times. And it is so fun to jack with those stuck up a-holes.

Second, this guy had on a full dry suit, gloves, hood and booties. Granted, I was cold with just a wetsuit top, but a full dry suit? Unless you are way north in San Francisco or even in Alaska, a wet suit is more than enough. A full dry suit in San Diego is like wearing suspenders, a belt and two condoms.

After the Santa Claus German gardener informed us that the nice old rich man who lived there was the majority stock holder in Victoria’s Secret, I made a crack/observation about wondering what’s the big secret about guys liking hot women in sexy underwear? This got an actual sneer from dry suit kayaker guy. Then Santa Gardener wondered aloud what the secret was.

So I said I heard a story that it was the incredibly uptight and prudish Queen Victoria was really kinky in her private life and wore wild lingerie. Thus the name Victoria’s Secret.

Well, I didn’t know there was such thing as an actual audible scoff, but Dry Suit Kayaker guy actually scoffed out loud and muttered that my statement was a ridiculous urban myth.

Before I even knew what had happened, I was now totally pissed off and I asked in a deliberately smart-ass tone;

“You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

He couldn’t even give me a straight answer, but after huffing out some technical medical crap with the word research on the end of it - which he might as well have said “You wouldn’t be able to understand” - he finally admitted he was a doctor and asked why I thought to ask.

“Because it’s the only profession where people get away with trying so hard to be so god . . . damned . . . snotty.”

We continued our packing and unpacking in silence.

Yeah, yeah, I know, one of the sweetest people we know is a doctor, Doctor Dana. Or as she can also be called: the exception that proves the rule.

Can you imagine what a French doctor would be like?

Q: Guys, when you get your prostate checked, how can you tell if you have a French doctor?

A: Before he can put his finger in yours, he has to pull his head out of his.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Let me be the first to wish all dyslexics a happy very 8002.
This just in:
Jessica Alba is officially engaged. For guys depressed by this news because they thought they had a shot with Jessica, they can get on-phone counseling at 1-800-R-U-High?
Whimpy, whompy, whombly, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Fierce Estates

Hollywood, Florida is getting the country's first Gay Retirement home. It’s like a regular retirement home except that, when they watch “Murder, She Wrote” reruns, the male residents viciously insult what Angela Lansbury is wearing.

Refuse verbalizing
After losing to the San Diego 23-3, Denver Bronco D.B. Champ Bailey whined about Charger Q.B. Phillip Rivers trash talking. I mean, come on, Rivers's name is Phillip. How bad could his trash talk be? In fact, Phillip calls it refuse verbalizing.

“Your Matriarch is so plus-sized she has to order her clothes from a Lane Bryant catalog.”

“Now I don’t want to say your female sibling is unattractive, but your mother had to put an extra $100 in her debutante ball invitations to get people to attend.”

“Now I don’t want to say your male sibling is unintelligent, but he thinks a split infinitive is a type of motor vehicle.”

Flaming Sunset Gardens
Hollywood, Florida is getting the first Gay Retirement home. It’s like a regular retirement home except that, during the annual resident softball game, the women beat the men 49-0.

Stiffing Paris in a new and different way
Paris Hilton’s grandfather, the former Chargers owner, Barron Hilton, is going to leave almost all of the family fortune to charity; you know what this means? Paris’s rates for a date just shot up.

Paris Hilton is glad to see 2007 end. She got arrested, thrown in jail and now her grandfather is giving away her inheritance to charity. In fact, if 2007 had been any harder on Paris it would have been on a grainy sex video.

Putting the men in retirement
Hollywood, Florida is getting the first Gay Retirement Center. It’s like a regular retirement center except that “The Early Bird Special” is called “The Fiercely Prompt Red-breasted Robin Extravaganza.”

Since you asked:
Wow, I just woke up out a deep, deep sleep and I had the worst dream. You won't believe this, but I actually dreamt that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was going to induct, now don't laugh at me, Madonna. Right? You got that? The "Like a Virgin" Madonna in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Whew. Man, I gotta stop eating those late night carne asada burritos.


Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Merry Christmas, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

The Denver Broncos lost to the San Diego Chargers, 23-3 in part due to a bad performance from Jay Cutler who, on Christmas Eve, is from Santa Claus, Indiana.

You think that is sadly ironic? The Miami Dolphins got killed by the New England Patriots in part due to a horrible performance from their quarterback, Cleo Lemon, who is from Please Don’t Suck, Nevada.

Insight to evidence
NBA games are going to put a microphone on all of the coaches. The ABC and ESPN networks feels it will provide insight. Or in the New York Knicks Isaiah Thomas’s case, it will also provide legal evidence.

Save us the time, Rog
Roger Clemens continues to angrily deny the steroid accusations from the Mitchell Report. And what could be more credible than a massive 45-year-old miraculously still pitching faster than ever flying into a blind, furious rage while denying he is on steroids?

Roger Clemens continues to angrily deny the steroid accusations in the Mitchell Report. Clemens went on to say that anyone who doesn’t believe he is not on steroids can kiss his third testicle.

Roger Clemens continues to angrily deny the steroid accusations in the Mitchell Report. Upon which disgraced cheating sprinter Marion Jones replied; “Good luck with that routine, Slappy.”

Here is how it goes, Roger, so get ready.
Athlete suddenly discovers another higher gear late in their career and succeeds beyond anyone’s expectations.

Rumors start to float about that athlete’s use of performance enhancing drugs.

Athlete vehemently denies using performance enhancing drugs and demands accusers provide proof.

Facing serious fines, and or jail time as a result of an investigation, accusers provide proof of the athlete using performance enhancing drugs in order to save their asses.

Athlete continues to deny using performance enhancing drugs despite ironclad proof.

Authorities, either from the legal system or from their sport, step in to threaten severely punishing the athlete for cheating as well as lying about it, due to ironclad proof.

Only, and only, due to facing serious fines and or jail time, athlete tearfully admits they lied and cheated about using performance enhancing drugs for years upon years.

Several years from now in a “Where are those disgraced lying cheaters now?” article in “Sports Illustrated” athlete says that their humiliating disgraceful downfall allowed them to finally hit rock bottom and find religion which allowed them to become a much, much better person.

In other words, they continue their lifetime pattern of lying.

Heard a pretty good one from a bartender:
Do you know what you call a Middle Eastern cab driver?

A cab driver, you F’n racist.

Happy, New Year, Slatesses and Nugglers. Here’s wishing all of you a great 2008.

And here is also wishing 24-hour uncontrollable diarrhea to the authors of those insipid “How to cure a New Year’s hangover” health pieces in the paper that end up by advising the reader to: “Drink moderately.”

And may that uncontrollable diarrhea then quickly develop into unbearably uncomfortable constipation when those same insightful health section authors write their inevitable; “How To Lose Those Holiday Pounds” piece by sagely suggesting the reader “eat less and exercise more.”

Ahh, feel the post-holiday smugness, Slattos and Nugglets

I just discovered another great thing about being a grown up besides not having to do home work and not having to eat anything you don’t want to. It is enjoying the fact that Christmas is over.

One of the worst days in the world for a kid is Christmas night. It gets dark really early and you are already getting sick of the toys you’ve been playing with all day and the horrible fact that you are an entire year from next Christmas is begging to sink in.

Not that I don’t like Christmas, I do. This year I loved our tree, I loved going shopping and I loved watching holiday movies while wrapping the presents I got on Christmas Eve. But, until you do all of that holiday stuff, that holiday stuff all lays heavy on your mind until you get it done and it is a great sense of smugness when it is done.

It’s like the smugness of those cool/rich kids in high school who were sitting back and relaxing while their dad’s secretary typed up their finished junior themes, while I still hadn’t read one of my five required books yet, let alone written a word.

And when I did ask my dad if his secretary would type my junior theme when it was done, his only response was to laugh for a loud and long time.

Monday, December 24, 2007

We making some meatloaf sundaes up in this here X-Mas Eve, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Let me be the first to wish all dyslexics a very happy 8002.

Under the category of: “I still can’t seem to get frickin' past this,” Madonna is being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Can Celine Dion be far behind?

In New Zealand, a group of 50 roaring drunk Santas ran amok in a Cineplex attacking people and vandalizing the theaters. That should put those kids who were there in therapy for life.

Britney Spear’s sister, 16-year-old Jamie Lynn, is pregnant. The bad news? Jamie is so young she doesn’t even have a driver’s license. The good news? She can’t get in trouble for driving with her baby on her lap.

NBA games are going to put a microphone on all of the coaches. Well, except for the New York Knicks Isaiah Thomas, they are just going to replay the Don Imus Nappy-headed Hos diatribe against the Rutgers women’s basketball team.

ABC and ESPN are going to put a microphone on all of the NBA coaches. The network feels it will provide insight. Or in the New York Knicks Isaiah Thomas’s case, it will provide evidence.

Since you asked:
Would someone please help me out? I cannot decide. Fergie, scary or hot? When she has her full facial piercings and gets those cornrows going, she is scary. When she sexies herself up, she is pretty hot. Then come the many stories of her predilection to, well, wet herself in mid concert, and there is simply no faster way to un-hot yourself unless your name is Britney Spears.