Dinner with my brother - an ongoing series

I have decided to start a series of posts that describe in excruciating detail what it's like to go to dinner with my brother. You might learn about fine dining in LA or you might hear stories about me pulling the fire alarm in an Italian restaurant to get out of the bill. Either way, I am sure there will be some mention of my brother eating a rotisserie chicken with his hands in a sushi joint (I think he brought it with him). With that said, there is no better place to start our adventure than to retell the story of having dinner last night at one of Los Angeles's finest sushi restaurants. Actually this is the story of not having dinner at one of LA's finest sushi establishments.

As some of you might know, I will only eat in one of two sushi places in the greater Los Angeles area. One is Nishimura, and the other is Jinpachi. Both are in my ignorant white person's opinion amazing. In fact the owner of Jinpachi is rumored to have worked at Nishimura for a time. I think it ended after he was caught taking polaroids of the fish so he would know exactly how to recreate the dishes for his own establishment. Lately, I 've been eating at Jinpachi since the last time I ate at Nishimura was my birthday dinner and as you may know I made a vow not to return. Okay, enough back story, we walk into Jinpachi at 6pm and I make a bee line to the bathroom to pee. I either have type two diabetes or the world's smallest bladder (a story for another time). While I am in the bathroom my brother sits at the sushi bar. Flash back to me in the bathroom, I take a piss, flush the toilet and start to wash my hands. As I am scrubbing my skin like any sane person with OCD does, I notice the urinal is running with extreme force and the water level is rising. I stare at it for a second and think, who cares, urinals don't overflow. Suddenly as I am drying my hands I notice the yellowy water is getting dangerously close to the urinal brim. Shit, time to escape. I grab fifty paper towels and open the door praying there is no skin to handle contact. As the door opens the water starts to pour out of the urinal onto the floor. I run to the first Japanese person I see and say the urinal is overflowing. After realizing he is just a customer, I tell the first Mexican I see. At this point water is rushing out of the bathroom into the restaurant.

I run back to the sushi bar out of breath and tell my brother exactly what happened. I describe running from the piss water as if I were Indiana Jones trying to outrun that boulder in Raiders. I can tell he isn't paying attention. He is just waiting for his turn to talk. As soon as I get out my last word, he informs me that the owner of Jinpachi is on vacation in Japan and that he doesn't want to be served by an underling. That is when the following occurred:

Lewis -looking directly at the sushi chef but talking loudly to me

CALL MY CELL PHONE RIGHT NOW!

Barry

Okay

I dial my phone and place it in my lap. A minute later my brother's phone rings. Thanks AT&T. He looks at the sushi chef.

Lewis

I need to take this.

Sushi Chef

Yoshi

My brother gets up from the table and walks outside. He paces back and forth talking. He walks back in.

Lewis - looking at the sushi chef

That was my wife. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I have to leave right now to pick up my daughter.

Sushi Chef

Yoshi

I burst into laughter as I get up from the bar and run out of the place. I notice out of the corner of my eye, that half of the employees are using towels to try stop the toilet water from advancing throughout the whole restaurant.

Long story short, due to current circumstances, my birthday vow has been revoked. Nishimura is back in the rotation.

Stay tuned for more dining adventures with my brother in the coming weeks.

Technical Difficulties

For some reason my phone overwrote the post regarding the best and worst of 2011. Contrary to popular belief, I did not take it down due to its lack of humor. I will go to my grave knowing the worst day of 2011 was September 11th. It was the day my feet turned blue from stepping in a puddle while wearing my new ROOS. It truly was a low.

2011: The year of Mystery

As the year draws to a close, it's become common practice for bloggers to look back and compile a "Best of" sort of list that re-caps the year's highlights. Since I'm confident that you're all sick to death of hearing about "Watch the Throne", or "Game of Thrones", or any of that other throne crap, I thought I'd take the next few days to look back at the mysteries and puzzles that 2011 bestowed upon us.

First mystery: What's up with Mickey Rourke's Hands?



Or really, what's up with Mickey Rourke? Seriously the guy looks all sorts of fucked up these days, but when you consider the tough life he's had and the fact that he spent a good decade or so as a shitty boxer that took a lot of shots to the face, it kinda makes sense. Until you look at his hands, then you can't help but think of that crazy little Lamisil monster, right?



I mean this picture could be of Mickey Rourke standing in front of one of his own fingernails. It's no wonder Kim Basinger once called him "The Human Ashtray". But all kidding aside, what the fuck is up with those hands. If you look at the picture below, you can see it wasn't always that way...



Sure he's a little ham-handed, but he didn't have those creepy curved nail beds, or fat-ass fingers like the dragon from The NeverEnding Story. Sure being a boxer may toughen the hands, but what's going on with Mickey Rourke's paws is simply not human.

And then it occurred to me, that's it. You heard it here first, after examining photographs taken over several years and watching all of the Twilight movies while drinking cough syrup, I've come to the conclusion that Mickey Rourke is actually a werewolf.


Notice the similarity between MR's hands and this werewolf's paws? I read somewhere that he even tried to eat Steve Guttenberg on the set of Diner. I'd hate to be his manicurist....



Anyhow, so that's just one of the things that this crazy year's made me wonder about. I'll be back with more Mysteries of 2011 over the next few days.

Happy Hanukkah - Day Two - A musical number

On this second night of Hanukkah I am giving you all the gift of music. Enjoy the festivities.

Happy Hanukkah - Day One - Fear God

I just wanted to wish my fellow Jews a happy festival of lights. On this first night, we should remember that the Lord is all powerful. One year his magic provided a temple with light for eight nights when we all knew there was only enough oil to light that place up for one. Another year he gave me Destro with swivel-arm battle grip. Sadly it's not all good, this year he turned a blind eye on his people and let Bored to Death get canceled. I question not what I don't understand, but my guess is this has something to do with Talia Shire.

Joyeux Noel - 12 Days of Poop Jokes

I was thinking that between my poop post yesterday and my Twitter feed, there is the slightest chance that I discuss excrement a bit too much. It's possible that people have heard enough crowing jokes to last a lifetime. I did some soul searching and was about to lay off the constant chatter about my quivering bowels when I was given a sign from the gods to stay the course and never give up. Everyone knows that doodie is funny, even Santa.

Next time you're constipated during the holidays, remember it's probably Santa punishing you for being bad.

Writer's Bathroom

The other day I was talking to a two year old who happened to be sitting on a toilet (not at all creepy out of context) and I asked her to come up with her two best sitcom ideas. She cocked her head, grunted, and the next thing I heard was a splash.

Two Year Old

Oooooooooooh, I just made a little poop.

Barry

Good job.

Two Year Old (while grunting)

Let me make it bigger.

PLOP!!! - Not sure how to put sound effects into dialogue.

Two Year Old

I made it a friend!

Barry

I like where you are going with this.

I have no intention of giving her a writer's credit.

Our country is going to shit

Today I was eavesdropping on two five year olds and honestly I might need to go to therapy to get over the crap coming out of their mouths. I am only posting this to show you how far America has declined in the last thirty years. I warn you, the words you are about to read are graphic and disturbing. If for some reason you ever hear them spoken in your vicinity, I don't think there is a court in the land that would convict you of child abuse for the punches you would desperately need to throw.

Five Year Old (1)

I think Darth Vader is better because he can turn into a droid for attack.

Five Year Old (2)

No, no, I think Darth Sidious is better because of his battle grip.

What the hell is either of these brats talking about? Star Wars has clearly been ruined.

I know you're all disturbed by this pointless post ,so I hope this picture makes up for what I thought would have been a funny tirade.

Time for my nose to sweat

I am just putting the finishing touches on my spec script outline. It came out well except for the fact that my grammar skills indicate I was educated under a bridge by a pack of feral cats. I had a couple of people review it, pat me on the back for being clever, and of course fix what college couldn't. Now it's on to submitting it to my teacher so he too can pat me on the back and possibly provide me some notes, that will enrage me since I hate criticism. Once that is complete it is on to the next level to achieving my black belt in sitcom writing. The first class was all about the outline, and how Red Fox used to love coke (don't ask), and the second is all about the dialogue for each scene. I just realized this means I am going to have to read my script out loud on a weekly basis. I foresee my voice cracking and my nose sweating profusely each time I open my mouth. I might need to use robot voice to do all my talking for me.

Robot Barry

Philadelphia 2 - This time with more AIDS!

I can honestly say I have never sat through the movie Philadelphia. When I was younger I avoided it because I thought it might give me AIDS (times were different back then). Now I can't sit through it because the premise seems absurd. People don't get AIDS anymore. That was so 1990. At least that is what I thought until I saw my brother the other day. I went to run some absurd errand with him that involved us driving to the San Gabriel Valley to get a permit for some sort of art show that he plans to put on in the park (lies, but might be good for another post). I pull up to his place and he walks out looking like a homeless Tom Hanks and this time Denzel won't represent him.

Let me break the outfit down for you. He is wearing all black Nike sneakers, the kind you wear if you are waiter or a nurse. I didn't see his socks, but let's just assume they were torn to shreds. Move on to the pants, Brooks Brothers, wool pleated suit pants, funny enough purchased roughly the same time Philadelphia came out. I would say pleated says it all, but I was told that the previous day one of his friends informed him that his pants had the distinctive odor of vomit, so I am pretty sure vomit trumps pleated. The shirt, XXXL dry-fit with a week's worth of crumbs stuck all over. On top of the shirt was a filthy Patagonia fleece that looked like it was purchased during freshman orientation at Brandeis. Moving on to the face, the perfect cancer beard. You know the kind that makes people think, poor thing, he clearly is dying. Finally we get to the baseball hat, the same cancer description applies here as well. Each item was gross on their own, but together it created some sort of Voltron animal of disgust. If I knew the words to the Bruce Springsteen Philadelphia song, now would be a good time for me to sing them. If I had a time machine and a jar full of AIDS, I could easily make some money having my brother be Tom Hanks's stand-in. It was all very sad. Hopefully my brother can get to a doctor before his condition worsens.

He covered his face out of shame!

Han Solo has dementia and I have diarrhea

I should say had diarrhea since this this story is a week old. Captain Solo still has dementia though.

It all started in a galaxy far away that I like to call Brentwood. It was Wednesday night and I was driving my land speeder to my brother's for an early dinner before my class. Traffic was a complete nightmare. I think a couple of droids got run over in front of Mos Eisley's cantina and there wasn't a jawa in sight to clean it up. With traffic being a complete nightmare, my brother thought it would be a good time to go to a local sushi place that I had previously told him was delicious. That was ten years ago and we both know my palette is much more refined now. I was down for going anywhere close as long as there were no sand people there (with or without the Star Wars joke it sounds amazingly racist).

We got to the sushi place around 6PM and there wasn't another customer in sight. Now when we are dealing with raw fish, not having many customers can cause one to worry, but I was still being optimistic. We sat at the bar and ordered a few pieces. Each piece made me wish I had shot first, but it was too late. The damage was done to my midi-chlorian. As I sat there chewing wookie meat, who do you think walked in the door? It was none other than Han Solo himself (with an earring) and what I would assume was Princess Leia after she went on a hunger strike. There was also a child but he looked more adopted than Skywalker. Everyone that worked in the restaurant said "Hello Captain Solo, your usual table with your back to the wall?" He said of course and sat down with one hand on his blaster while keeping the other free for his chop sticks. I overheard him order a bunch of rotten fish while I sat sadly realizing my hero clearly had early onset Alzheimer's. I mean I had an excuse as to why I went to this dump. It had been ten years and I was young. He clearly goes there all the time. Maybe with all the trouble in the middle east, it is too expensive to take the falcon more than a few parsecs past his mansion.

Now on to the death star in my bowels. After we finished eating, I needed something to get the horrible taste out of my mouth. I made my brother stop at Coffee Bean where I got myself a piece of coffee cake. I have no clue why I ordered it. I never eat coffee cake. Anyway, I shoved the entire piece in my mouth in a fashion that would have made Jabba proud. As we walked to the car I felt that as if there was a direct hit to my core reactor. Sweat started pouring down my face. I had planned to have my brother drop me at class as I couldn't bear to get back in my speeder, but I had to have him take me to his place instead. Since this is a Star Wars post I might as well accurately describe my brother's apartment. Remember the trash compactor scene? That is me being kind. I ran in his place and made the biggest toilet paper nest you have ever seen on a seat that was more dried piss than plastic. Even with the nest, I used my best Yoda impersonation to levitate over the bowl. I destroyed the bowl like George Lucas destroyed my childhood memories (Star Wars coming soon in 3D!)

I made it to class 45 minutes late. Master Windu was none too pleased.

The greatest person I ever sent to co-worker heaven

As many of you might be aware I was recently let go from my job. It either had something to do with my twittering about shitting or revenue projections. Regardless, as one would expect I no longer get to see my former co-workers very often . At first I tried to try to go in and pretend I wasn't let go, but I never got past the parking lot security. Who am I kidding, I never got out of bed to even make the half assed attempt to go to my office as a joke. Since I am so lazy and refuse to see people (sent them all to co-worker heaven), the guy I sat across from for years, Peter, left me a birthday gift in my mailbox. I think he did it under cover of night as to not scare me. He knows everyone from work is dead to me if I am not there. Last thing I need is to think I see ghosts.

Now on to the gift. I would have expected a 15 buck gift certificate to Applebee's and if he was feeling generous a card that played the Macarena on a loop, but no he had to blow my mind and make me reevaluate everything and everyone. I had to use my new scanner to show the world Peter's birthday card, or as I like to call it, "Self Esteem Building Blocks For Dummies":

Seriously, there is someone out there who realizes I am wasting my talents more than me. It is sad and touching all at once. He also gave me a book that I have no intention of reading, The War of Art. I have had it four days now and it is a great book. It fits perfectly in my back pocket. So far I have impressed the checkout girl at Pep Boys and my mailman, with the fact that not only do I carry a book with me but it has War in the title.

On a serious note, thanks Peter. I will read the book and hopefully one day you can be my assistant. I plan to frame the card.

High School Bedroom

As I go through old pictures the memories are flooding in. Today I reminisced about how much I jerked off in high school and that even back then I dreamed of one day moving to California (see poster of a better life). You will notice in the picture my high tech home entertainment center with a state of the art VCR. Many a night I am sure my parents pretended to hear nothing as the VCR groaned from me hitting, play, rewind, play, rewind, play, fast forward, play, for three minute increments every hour on the hour. Those were good times.

Upon further examination I have realized this picture was from college not high school. The masturbation stories still hold true.

Why I wish it was 1978 - part 2

Here is a picture of me playing with some toys as a little boy. The best part of this picture is the fact that my toy box is a sorry ass card board box with no structural integrity. I would like to say my parents were young and starting out, but I am pretty sure that box is still in our dining room. Ten points to whoever can identify the action figure laying on top.

Why I wish it was 1978

I just bought a new scanner which means it's picture time!! First stop on my memory lane is the 70s. I am going to go out on a limb and say it was the best decade ever. Name another time you could go to a mall pet store and come home with a chimpanzee?

I am so glad all my childhood polaroids are in mint condition.

Mission Accomplished - Unemployment Complete

Oh don't get all excited that I got a job because I didn't. I am talking about the fact that as of two nights ago I have accomplished everything I ever wanted to while being unemployed. The final item on my list was to get into a fist fight and of course win.

It went something like this. It's Sunday night, I realize I need to move my car for street cleaning, I throw on some shorts (was nude from the waist down) and go outside. Standing in front of my house is a stocky drunkard holding two pink roses. I open my gate and proceed to walk down the street. He mumbles something to me and then proceeds to spit on my lawn. I turn around and tell him to keep moving. He curses at me and motions to piss on my gate. I tell him to get the fuck out of here and he is messing with the wrong person. I then tell him that I am a local cop (why??? I have no idea, but it makes the story so much better). Next thing I know, I push him, he pushes me. It's on! Within a few seconds I have him in a headlock. I then proceed to drive his head into my fence. I let him go. He comes at me again. We lock arms, I knee him in the chest. Game over. He stumbles away, leaving his roses in front of my house. I now understand how my dog feels when he gets into a fight with a local alley cat. I was panting, tongue out, and my tail was wagging. I never felt so full of life. I have accomplished so much in my three weeks of unemployment. Every unemployed 36 year old needs to get in a fight.

My stoner neighbor told me the idiot came back later looking for his roses. While looking he pissed on another neighbor's house. Classy guy. I wonder if he was coming or going from a date. I hate to think he showed up to a lady's house empty handed. That isn't very gentleman like. Poor girl.

Greatest night of my life!

Very worldly

I am becoming a more evolved person. Instead of getting all my news from the Yahoo scrolling home page, I have picked up a thing or two from this month's Esquire magazine. I found it in the park. Today I read that Coke was an amazing company and that I should sell everything I own to buy one share of it and I also read an article about sitcoms and pilots. Very timely stuff. I can't wait to bring it up in class tonight.

If someone would leave a New York Times on the street there is no telling what I could do.

Beerfest

Today I was at the park when I bumped into a man that can best be described as your go to guy if you need a henchman for a Cinemax movie. I am talking a man so large that his muscles have muscles and those muscles look like they do roids. I stared at him and thought our paths had crossed before. When he spoke I knew for sure. It was Schlemmer of Beerfest fame. I don't normally talk to celebrities or strange men in the park but I did strike up a conversation with Gunter that either went one of two ways:

Barry: Sucks the Germans lost WW2, I mean Beerfest
Gunter: Stop tapping your shoe and get away from me.

or

Barry: Were you in Beerfest?
Gunter: Yes, I was. How did you know?
Barry: Not many men your size with German accents floating around that could pull off that roll.
Gunter: Stop tapping your shoe.

Either way Beerfest is an awesome movie and Gunter was a really nice guy (clearly afraid, Gunter will google his name, find this post and come kill me). I should also note that we discussed a second Beerfest and both hope it happens.

Beard no more

Following in the foot steps of Liberace, Bradley Cooper, Sylvester Stallone, Mike Tyson, and countless others, I decided my beard had to go. I made it nine days before the itching got the better of me. It felt like I had face crabs. Don't even get me started on how it looked. I was convinced it would fill in, but short of having a hair transplant there was no way to accomplish that. All I had was a bunch of long hairs spaced far apart all over my face. I looked like an old lady shopping for plumcots at a Middle Eastern market. There is nothing that I have said that the furry chins couldn't have said better.

My face is now cleanly shaven. Not saying it is much of an improvement though.

Sitcom Class

I really love my sitcom class. It gives me something to do for the three hours I am awake a week. This past Wednesday, I learned a bunch of terms that I won't say here because I refuse to give my knowledge away for free. After all I did pay 400 bucks to learn this crap. I will share some non-vital entertaining information from this week's lesson though because I'm a giver.

Did you know that Rachel Dratch played Jenna in the pilot of 30 Rock? No? Well I did because I saw the never aired pilot in class this week. Jealous? If that doesn't get you going how about this, my teacher told the class that when he was working on Roseanne, they were having a table read where Roseanne thought the script sucked, so she stood up, farted on her copy, threw it against the wall, and walked out of the room. She really is an inspiration to where I want my career to go. Do you know how much gas I have? I have been wasting it all these years, but no more!

Beard

I have decided only employed people should shave. Razors cost money. I will post weekly updates on what what I can describe best as a cancer patient beard. There may be some cheerios on my face in the pic.

Birthday Dinner with my brother

For my birthday my brother decided to take me for fancy sushi. I know it should have been my choice, but it's best he gets his way. I showed up at his place and he of course came out looking his best. By best I mean he was wearing gym shorts, a tee shirt, and hadn't shaved in three weeks. Seriously I have seen cleaner looking homeless people. If you don't believe me, drive down Santa Monica Blvd in Beverly Hills. There is a homeless man who wears a nicely pressed suit on the north side of the street. So back to the story, my brother and I hop in the car and cruise over to the restaurant. Only in LA could we be sitting next to Scotty Pippen at one light and the CEO of Tesla at another. I can't confirm either of these sightings but I am 92% sure. The supposed CEO of Tesla was driving a Tesla with a personalized plate that said Tesla so I am saying it was too much of a coincidence to not be him. Scotty Pippen was driving a car shaped like a basketball so once again I assume I am right.

So on to the meal. The sushi was great and there isn't too much to report other than the fact that the place is owned and operated by one very drunk, very angry, Japanese man. With that said, if you eat there you keep your head down, enjoy the fish, have a few drinks, and get out. Of course that would be too easy for my brother. He notices that a couple at the sushi bar got some sort of cooked fish and his brain exploded. Why aren't they giving that to us? Personally, I don't want cooked fish at a sushi restaurant. It sort of defeats the purpose of why I am there in the first place, but I digress. Here is the transcript of my brother, me, and the sushi chef and why I will never be going there again:

Lewis: Hiro, pllllllllleeeeeease make me the cooked fish (whiniest voice you can imagine)
Hiro: UUUUUHHHHHHH, you know I am the only one working in the kitchen. If I make fish in back, people must wait for sushi.
Lewis: Pllllllllllllleeeease, it's my brother's birthday!!! (even whinier)
Hiro: UUUUUUHHHH, fine
Barry: Uh thanks (didn't want the cooked fish)

Side conversation:
Barry: I will never come here again.
Lewis: Why?
Barry: Because you just begged for food in a fancy restaurant so I am ashamed. Plus, he gave you attitude. I hate you you both. Thanks for dinner.

Otherwise I had a delicious meal and I appreciate my brother taking me exactly where he wanted to go for his, I mean my birthday.

Failing at blogging while failing at not working

Seriously it only took four days of not working to totally become so lazy that writing my blog seems like a chore. Today was my birthday so I feel I deserve a pass on not writing but as a teaser I figured I would give an outline of what posts are coming:

• Birthday Dinner with my brother (shorts, Scotty Pippen, brother groveling)
• Sitcom Writing Class (Rozanne farting, 30 Rock Pilot)
• Growing a beard (spotty, itchy, multiple chins)
• Ball Trimming (OCD, buzzer guard)

So that's all for now. Expect big things tomorrow if my laziness permits.

Failing at not working

I haven't been unemployed a full day yet and I can honestly say I am bored to shit. I got up, worked out, had lunch, and washed my car. Now I have nothing to do. I should have spaced this crap out. Worked out today, washed car tomorrow, had lunch the following day.

Thankfully I have my writing class Wednesday or there would be nothing to look forward to. Just letting you know now that I plan to win an Oscar for my spec sitcom script. Mark my words, it will be so good it makes you shit.

I need her to pick me some horses

So my friend Bruce's mother is in the hospital right now and things haven't been great. She has some serious stuff going on and is a bit confused. She is 91 years old and really ill so I figured I would use a post to talk about the amazing life she has had. Many people don't know that she championed women's suffrage when it wasn't cool, fought for equality not only for minorities but for gays in California as well, and she has remained very active in dog rescue up until this recent hospital stay. Fine, I am lying. None of that is true. She is amazing because two days ago she called Bruce at 6 AM from the hospital and told him to rush right over because she had something important to tell him. When he got there she told him she has a strong feeling Everyone loves Raymond was going to be a hit. I really hope she lives long enough to see that.

I am posting this from my newer blogger app on my phone so I apologize for the errors even though they would be there either way.

It's who you know - Skip Dickford

I was talking to Skip yesterday when he mentioned that his neighbor has a big job for XXXXX magazine. I changed the name because I don't really feel like having my blog show up in search engines. Anyway, I mention to Skip that XXXXX owns the company that as of Friday no longer pays me to come in (whether I still go in tomorrow to scare people is debatable). I explain in painful detail that XXXXX wanted revenue to go up and the only way to do that was to cut heads and my head was the first to go. Dumbfounded since Skip literally had no idea where I worked, there was an exchange of a few questions before Skip decided to say, hey you want me to talk to my neighbor and see if he can do anything about getting your job back. Not discounting Skip's persuasive manner, I do know where he lives and that is not in an area where anyone who could get me my job back would even bother stopping to get gas. I of course say no and that there is no chance he can do anything to help me. Skip and I end the conversation with him telling me how humid it is and I proceed to go about my day.

Literally ten minutes later my phone rings and it is Skip screaming for me to tell him where I work again because he talked to his neighbor and all he needs is the company name and I will be employed shortly. Now being that Skip can't remember what I do, where I work, or what his neighbor's name is, I don't have high hopes. Stay tuned. Stranger things have happened.

Fleece - not from Patagonia

Last night I was in Walgreen's buying crayons when I came across the greatest outfit ever made. The Forever Lazy soft fleece lounge wear. If I had come up with this outfit I would be rich and comfortable. I can't dwell on my lack of creativity, all I can do is enjoy my new 9 to 5 outfit. The best part about the suit is the zippered back hatch. I am pretty sure I could write at least three unique porn movies involving the hatch, not to mention the many sequels the general public will demand. Big things are coming!

Happy New Year and local drunks

So first off I must wish all the Jewish readers a Happy New Year. I am calling it right now, this is the year of the Jew. Expect big things from my people.

Now on to local drunks. Yesterday I came to the realization that when I am no longer working I am going to have to find a classy bar to hang out in if I decide that being an alcoholic is in my future. I left work at 3:00 to have a few drinks at a local bar. I am not going to mention the bar's name because if for the off chance one of the local scumbags that hangs out there has a computer and on the off chance knows how to turn it on and find this website, I don't really feel like being repeatedly stabbed in the throat while the guy tells me I deserve it.

So I go to this local bar (best described as the Always Sunny bar, if the show had no budget) that is very dog friendly and I sit outside with my mutt. I am sitting there enjoying a beer with Regan (friend/coworker/red hair) when my dog decides to throw up on the cement patio. I get up to go inside to ask the bartender for some paper towels when a regular who can best be described as an extra on Breaking Bad screams at me to clean up my dog's vomit. The best part about this wiry retard isn't his homemade tattoos or that he is wearing a wife beater. It's the fact that he has a British accent. I assure the fine patron that I am going inside to get some cleaning supplies to clean the mess up. The British Meth Head screams GOOD as I walk inside. I explain to the bartender what happened and ask her if she has any paper towels. She tells me that she too is a dog owner and that she will not let me clean it up and wants to take care of it herself. I try to get her to let me, but she says absolutely not. I thank her and walk back outside. Of course as soon as I walk on the patio the British idiot screams "Why aren't you cleaning it up?" I explain to him that the bartender wouldn't let me and she wanted to come out and see. He mutters in some cockney accent and I go back to my beer. The bartender comes out and cleans up the mess in two seconds and tells me not to worry and gives my dog a pet. While she is doing this, the reason we won the revolution, comes over and shakes my hand and says no hard feelings, but you should have gone to the convenience store, bought paper towels and cleaned it up yourself. I say nothing, I just look at Regan and say we are out of here. I seriously will never return to this shithole again. Some will say it is because I will no longer work walking distance from the dump, others will know its because I hate the British.

Next stop in my world-win tour of depression is Outlaws. You might remember it from when I saw Anthony Michael Hall there the day before. It is only two miles away but it has a much more subdued crowd. The bartender even told me that they get a bunch of local losers celebrities. Everyone from Anthony Michael Hall to Tara Reid. There was even mention of Ed O'Neil but I think he is too classy for the joint. After having a few beers there, Regan and I decided it was time to call it a day. We were on our way to clocking out when out of nowhere this 500 pound drunk guy accosts us in the parking lot.

Drunk Guy - Sally
Regan - No
Drunk Guy - Sandy
Regan - No
Drunk Guy - Cindy
Regan - No
Drunk Guy - Samantha
Regan - No
Drunk Guy - I'm sorry, have a drink with me.
Regan - Sorry, me and my boyfriend Barry are leaving.
Drunk Guy (pointing in my direction) - He's your boyfriend?
Regan - Yeah
Drunk Guy - Is he a Jew?
Regan - Yes, I mean No. Yes, No, does it matter?
Drunk Guy - Barry, have a drink with me.
Barry - I have to go. (hops in car, locks door)
Drunk Guy - Stumbles in Outlaws to enjoy his life

Seriously, I need better places to hang out. With that said, I am going to Outlaws in twenty minutes if anyone wants to join me. Happy New Year!!!

Worst Dog Owner Ever

One thing I am going to really miss about my current job is the fact that my office allows animals. You can bring cats, gerbils, lions, tigers, lemurs, frogs, birds, ants, ant eaters, goats, lizards, leaches, and even dogs. I bring my dog with me every day. It gives him a sense of purpose. He comes to the office, lays down, eats out of my trash on occasion, and generally feels good about himself. Yesterday I got up from my desk to take him for a walk and it literally took me walking a block away from the office to realize I left him tied to my desk. How pathetic is it that I went to walk my dog and actually forgot him? I did end up buying a few lotto tickets and having a beer at the local liquor store so I think I deserve a pass. Think how awesome my dog's life is going to be when I win the lotto. He will get to do whatever he wants. Lay around all day, eat out of the trash. Oh, wait...

Anthony Michael Hall

Yesterday I left work at 4:00 to get a few more drinks. I say more, since to be honest I also left at 3:00 to have a beer, but in my defense I was responsible and came back at 3:50. Anyway I went to Outlaws in Playa and who do I run in to sitting outside, none other than Rusty Griswold. He was running through lines with some other guy. For all I know it was Wyatt Donnelly, but I can't confirm.

This isn't my first run in with Brian Johnson, I saw him at Long Beach Comic con two years ago, but this one was just as sad. Mostly because we both hang out in the same places, but also because as soon as I saw Gary, all I could think about was how he was just arrested for terrorizing a neighbor. I guess celebrities are just like normal people. I remember when I was arrested for throwing a trash can through a pizza parlor window just last week and I am very normal.

I know you are all impressed how I linked all the character names back to IMDB. God forbid you don't get my references.

When I grow up I am going to be just like you

There is nothing worse in life than realizing you are just like your parents. I know there are exceptions but most people go their whole lives hoping to be better than at least one parent. For me I want it mostly to rub it in their faces when they come to visit. Recently though I have begun to realize that I might be exactly like my mother. Not in everything, but in one very detrimental way. I don't think I have a good grasp of the spoken word. This post really should be an audio post to get my point across but let me give you some examples of my mom and words that in her seventy years of existence she is unable to say:
Curb - She says curve. I have no idea why but once a week she likes to tell me how she put her trash out at the curve.
Library - She says libary. No clue what is going on here.
Gelson's Super Market - She say's Gleeson's. I guess this one can be chalked up to the fact that she lives in New Jersey and just can't remember the market out here. One point for mom.
And the best one of all:
Schvartze - I am not sure why she can't pronounce the derogatory term for a black person in Yiddish, but she says Shratza. I know she shouldn't be using the word to begin with but cut her some slack she is old and no one knows what she is saying anyway. Again, this would be much funnier if this was an audio post.

Now I have many examples for how I am just like my mom, but I only feel like sharing the one from two days ago. I called Hanukkah Gelt, guilt. I was called out almost instantly. Embarrassed all I could say in response is "That's what I said!!!!"

I wasn't fooling anyone. It's a sad day when the only person that understands you is your mom.

Show ideas and general rambling

I have been spending every waking moment studying Always Sunny, trying to dissect the characters and learn what makes them tick so I can one day write my version of Mein Kampf staring Mack, Charlie, Dennis, and Dee. It is harder than I thought. I mean I understand what motivates Charlie, but Dee is a bit tougher. I just can't get into her lost girl world. I am wearing more lipstick while I watch the show in the hopes that I get in touch with my feminine side. I'm wearing it on my ass if that matters.

Speaking of asses, did anyone catch the under the boardwalk bum sex scene last night? It touched my heart.

More later.

No Attention Span

Sometimes I worry about my brain. Like am I firing on all cylinders? Is this normal, etc. This morning I realized I neither have the ability to sit still or relax for five seconds without being on the internet. I was getting my teeth cleaned when I thought to myself, damn this is taking a long time. I am sooooo bored. With that, I asked the hygienist if she minded if I checked my phone. "No problem Mr. Fein, I am sure you have important business since you are late to work." I proceeded to read the Superficial over her head while she scrapped my molars. She said she didn't mind but come on! She had to be pissed since after surfing the gossip sites I used both hands to type a text while she was trying to polish. I took a picture to show everyone how ridiculous I am.

I am actually kinda proud.

First Impressions

Last night I attended the first session of the Sitcom Writing class I signed up for when I still had a job, but just felt like bettering myself. Now I plan to attend in the hopes of not being unemployed. That's not really the point though. I just wanted to give everyone a background of how I show up to a first class now that I am a 35 year old adult and not an 18 year old juvenile college student. The first thing I did to prepare for my class was drink a six pack of beer. Now don't get all upset that I got drunk and drove to class. I started drinking it at noon and didn't finish until 6:45pm. Very responsible.

So while I was drinking I realized I needed to eat something before class so I went to Typhoon with one of my soon to be ex co-workers. Typhoon is an excellent restaurant but there is something you need to know about the place. Even if you don't eat there but just walk past the front door, you need to strip all your clothes off as soon as you get home because you are going to stink like Chinese/Filipino BO. I am not sure what it is because the place smells great, but the food has a stench that just sticks to your clothes. I was there for an hour so you can imagine how bad I stank. It was like I bathed in Mongolian beef.

At about 6:45 I realized I needed to get out the door because class started at 7:00 and it was across town. I won't name my co-worker, but I will say she was pushing hard for me to skip the first class. Something about how the teacher would only give out the syllabus and really is there any chance of me bettering myself anyway? I did not give in to her peer pressure. I hopped in my car and drove across town as fast I could (car started to over heat, but that is another story). I finally got to UCLA at 7:25. I ran to class, stopping to piss once or was it twice?

I walked in the room, covered in eyebrow sweat, as the teacher was going over what would be covered in the course of ten weeks. All I heard was, "You'll be rich!!!!" I sat down in one of the only empty seats, kinda crammed between this guy and girl when I realized, damn I stink. I stunk of beer and Asian fusion. I cringed as I thought what the students were thinking. One of them had to think I was homeless and just auditing.

Anyway, even though I stank and probably will have no friends in the class, I enjoyed it. The teacher seemed cool and even if he didn't say it I figure by the end of the ten weeks I will have an agent and a spec script ready to sell. Either that or I will have four hundred less in my pocket. On a good note I was told to write everyday so expect lots of blog posts.

For those who care, I am writing my spec script on Always Sunny. For the next week I must study every episode.

Grandparents with Skip Dickford

Barry: Hi Skip
Skip: You know I am your child's only grandparent
Barry: Yup
Skip: She would have a grandfather but Hitler took care of that.
Barry: Look at the time. Will talk to you later.

Editor's Notes:
Skip Dickford is my mother
I have a child. I know shocking.
My father, my child's grandfather, died in 2006. I can't believe Hitler discovered time travel.

Economy 2.0

So I have reached a tough time in my life. After five years of work building the most powerful website in the world, I am being let go. I know, it came as a shock to me too. Turns out being a contractor who is paid a shit load of cash will only fly for five years before they realize you aren't needed. So now it is time for me to pound the pavement and find work doing something else. The problem is I really liked where I worked. No one cared when I came in or when I left or maybe that is why I am being let go. Anyway, I was talking to Jake and I through out the idea of hanging out in front of Home Depot and maybe spending some time as a day laborer. He laughed in my face and said you don't have a shot in hell of getting picked up to do manual labor. I of course asked, is it because I am white? He said, no you fool, it's because you have zero skills. They will ask if you can lay tile or put up drywall and you will just look at them with a shit eating grin and say no. Damn he is right. I still want to believe it's because I am white and they are worried I am a serial killer.

"Shit, we can't pick that guy up. He is white and odds are he is either going to want to talk all day or he is going to cut our heads off and eat our brains when I ask him to dig a line trench to put sprinklers in."

We currently have a $100 bet as to whether anyone would pick me up. My last day at work is the 30th so I am hoping to do this the first week of October. Maybe on my birthday!

Stay tuned for my other brilliant ideas on how to get the ideal job.

Tough times with Skip Dickford

Barry: Skip, Jake's mom had a bunch of mini strokes.
Skip: That's too bad. She's a nice lady. You know Bob Hopes' wife died.
Barry: Who gives a shit about Bob Hope's wife
Skip: Sorry. Why are you being nasty? You know mayor Koch had a stroke.
Barry: Goodbye Skip

Some facts:
Jake's mom should be fine.
That isn't me in the pic.
Skip Dickford is my mom!!!!!

New website idea

I want to create a website where users post pics of a hair they removed from their body and readers get to guess where it came from. Did it come from head, ear, nose, beard, pubes, toes, ass? You get the idea. I think it could also work as an app. I'm thinking ahead. Here's a couple to start. Guess away.

Pootie Tang

Why is there no discussion around the fact that Louie C.K. wrote and directed Pootie Tang? I just found this out ten years after the fact. It is so odd I am having a hard time believing it's true. It reminds me of the fact that in 1999 I saw Planet of the Apes for the first time. I was honestly shocked at the end. How the hell did I make it until 1999 without someone ruining the ending of Planet of the Apes for me? I dodged that bullet 24 years. Oh, and get this, Bruce Willis is dead in The Sixth Sense. Who knew??

Stupid Retards

Every major Republican candidate visited the all-important Iowa State Fair a few days ago, eating fried butter and mingling with poor farmers and part-time Wal-Mart employees. The ostensible purpose for meeting and speaking with these stricken hillbillies was to secure the votes of the Tea Party, which is comprised solely of senior citizens that depend on government programs to live off of.

Every one of the candidates has pledged to never, ever raise taxes on any American, ever, for any reason, no matter what. That sounds pretty good. Especially to multi-millionaires whose actual work consists of sitting on ass and counting the returns on their investments.

Hey the camera's off, right?

In conclusion, fuck the Republican Party. And fuck the Tea Party too. And if you disagree, fuck you too. Also, fuck your family, and I hope they all die, in some type of tragedy. Hopefully involving fuel, and fire. Everyone else, have a great week.

Take us out, Rick:

Missed Opportunities

Q: What's better than walking out in the middle of an Ethan Hawke film?
A: Exploiting him for your personal financial gain...

The other night I met a friend for a couple dozen drinks at the Tipsy Parson and was seated directly behind E. f'in Hawke. Normally, news like that would elicite a yawn, or at best a "who gives a fuck". However, on this particular afternoon, the Hawkman was accompanied by his family including the new 2 week old kid that even People magazine doesn't have pictures of. This kid was so small that if someone dumped strawberry jelly all over it, I'd have been convinced that it was born right that moment in the restaurant. If I just had the wherewithal to appreciate the opportunity that fate had presented to me, I'd have snapped some camera-phone pics of the kid and sold them to US Weekly (my friend actually had this idea, but she, like I, didn't want to anger the Hawke family).
Actually, now that I think of it, angering the Hawke family might have been the way to go, how much cash do you think I could get for selling this story "Disabled man beaten up by Ethan Hawke in front of his new baby"?


Fuck, such a missed opportunity.

Fighting Crime

Now I normally don't care what people do with or to themselves. You want to pull an Amy Winehouse (become an uglier version of Sarah Silverman and do drugs), than go for it. I figure if it doesn't affect me right this second, then why should I care. Fine, I like to watch people go on downward spirals. Big deal. Speaking of which, today at 8:00 AM I pulled up to a traffic light on my way to the gym to work my glamor muscles when I notice the guy sitting in the car next to me is packing a bowl. We will now refer to him as Mr. Weedman in any future reference. At the same time this guy is getting ready to smoke up, I notice a police officer sitting on the other side of the traffic light looking for speeders. Mr. Weedman looks at me and quickly closes his hands praying I didn't see his precious weed. Oh, but I did, Mr. Weedman, I did. Now this is a long light so I had plenty of time to think of what to do next. The full gambit of emotions ran through my head; Why does he get to smoke weed and I don't? Why couldn't he just do it at home like everyone else? Is he really driving a Hyundai? Why does my leg itch? Did I pack underwear in my gym bag?

Before long the light changed and Mr. Weedman speeds off to what I assume is a high stakes job in the world of finance. I on the other hand drove across the street and pulled up next to the cop. Without getting into too many details, let's just say, I said "Go get em". The cop turned on his siren and took off. I have no idea what became of Mr. Weedman nor do I care. I was off to work my triceps and hopefully catch someone peeing in the shower.

I chose the Red Skull over Colleen

As some of you might know, I know Colleen of Col's Blog for thirty years. We were in elementary school and junior high together. I haven't seen her since I was 16 (junior prom), but I have stayed in touch with her by reading her Hitler-esq blog. I mean is there anything I can't learn about Colleeen that isn't summed up in her Monday Morning Dance Party? Anyway in the last twenty years we haven't had many times to hang out so one would think if the opportunity came up I would jump on that shit. Well last night Colleen was in LA and wanted to have dinner. I told her I had important plans that could not be broken. She understood and said maybe next time. I thought all was good but my fucking brother sold me out. Yes, it is true I was busy watching Captain America when I could have rekindled one of the world's great friendships. I mean it is only going to be in the theater for two to three months. I couldn't risk missing it for a reunion with a friend. I would think any good friend who traveled 3000 miles would understand. Colleen, I hope you are that good a friend.


Col's response

What are you doing today?

Other than celebrating Vin Diesel's birthday does anyone have any plans?

I cannot wait to get home, crack a beer and watch the Pacifier.


Life doesn't get any better than this.

Is this your homework Larry?

So a couple weeks ago I posted a letter that my ideal child would write to a butcher. Today, I found this homework assignment on the interwebs. Clearly written by the same brilliant child.

Jonah HIll - No longer funny

I am calling it right now. Jonah Hill is no longer funny. Did he not get the memo that as a comic you never lose weight and you never start lifting weights. I figure he is six months away from being in the direct to video Scavenger Hunt sequel. It's really sad.