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.

Live forever? No thanks!

The other day Skip Dickford told me he read an article about aging and a few things really stood out to him. The article stated that in the next five years someone would be born who would live to 200 years old. I know you are astonished, but if that isn't shocking enough the article also said that in the next twenty years someone would be born that would make it to a 1000 years old. Holyshit, can you say Highlander? Then again I guess these people aren't immortal. I mean a gun could still kill these old bastards. Hell you can kill most grandmas by yelling at them, but this is definitely interesting. I pressed Skip for the facts or where he read it, but all he could say was he read it the same day he had Fruity Pebbles for breakfast. Yabba, Dabba, doo, I would like to make it to 200. Then again, I don't know if the people who have figured all this out have realized the major flaw in living a long time. As you age your nose and ears continue to grow. Being that I was born with a huge nose and dumbo ears, if I live anywhere past my 41st birthday, odds are I won't be able to lift my head off the table from the shear weight of my nose hair alone, not to mention the fact my ears will probably suffocate me in my sleep. Think about how freakish the world will be with all these huge nosed old people running around. It would be like living in Germany circa 1938. No thanks.
Old person

Watch Old Bandit Run...

In 1977, Universal Pictures released a film about the greatest American folk-hero to ever drive a Trans-Am: Smokey and the Bandit. In it, Burt Reynolds plays Bo "Bandit" Darville, the best truck driver of his time. The film follows the Bandit after he gets hired by a rich Texas oilman to escort a truck full of Coors beer from Texas to Georgia for a BBQ. Many of you will read that and think that it's a pretty thin plot, that the writers should have come up with something a little more compelling in order to draw the audiences in. The thing is, there were no writers, Smokey and the Bandit is a true story!
You see, prior to the 1980's, Coors was a regional beer, outside of Colorado and a handful of other western states, it was practically unheard of. Back then, the only way for a person on the east coast to sip a cool Coors 16oz'er was to either know Pete Coors himself, or know The Bandit...

Well I've never met Pete Coors, but can tell you one thing, there are few experiences in this life as sweet as watching the Bicentennial Fireworks over the Hudson River while downing a couple cans of Coors.



I'm a little late in saying this, but thank you Bandit.

Happy Birthday America!!!

Everyone should be a patriot and wear the colors!

Milia?

I was at Bay Cities Italian Deli enjoying what could be the perfect meatball sub when I noticed this sign at the shop next door. Now I know what skin tags, moles, and warts are from reading Boy's Life, but I honestly have no clue what Milia are? I will not look it up on the interweb. I refuse to use the same machine that provides me with hours of enjoyment/boobies (thank you tumblr) to learn about something that I clearly have and need removed by a deli slicer. I won't do it.

Wasted Youth

I stumbled across this ad in the back of my pristine copy of Boy's Life magazine, May 1987, volume IV and I immediately cried. All these years wasted with no coitus when for what amounted to a week's allowance I could have had a lifetime membership good for live computer sex. For the last three minutes I have been trying to figure out how much sex that really would have gotten me. I mean, if I was 12 in 1987 and I was jerking off an average of three times a day, everyday with the exception of weekends (five times a day), I would think I would have used up my membership pretty quickly. I imagine eventually being turned away like a fat man at a buffet. Fat man equaling horny pre-teen. Buffet equaling pussy. Figure for an extra 12 bucks I could buy a second lifetime membership. I would have destroyed that computer. I have so much to do when I finally invent a time machine. I have some questions though. What is live computer sex? Would I be having sex with an actual living computer or would it be with a tiny woman inside the computer? We are talking 1987 so I think these questions are appropriate.

Fuck Whitey

It should come as no surprise to any regular reader of this blog that Barry and I have long dreamt of becoming "professional" Nazi Hunters. I put professional in quotes because aside from the sheer pleasure of actually capturing a Nazi, there really isn't much in the way of reward. Sure, you may get lucky and stumble upon a Nazi that still has a pile of loot, but those are rare, and these are late days. Most surviving Nazis have already pawned the gold fillings and rectum diamonds that they took from the Jews. Nazi Hunting is like being a struggling artist in that regard, sure you may grind out a little cash doing it, but you really do it because it's your passion, and you better keep your day job.

Which brings us back to the man that the little asian boy, pictured above, wants dead. The news has been reporting that after a 15 year man-hunt, Whitey Bulger, the boston mobster, was apprehended in Santa Monica thanks to a tip from a neighbor. Normally, I'd say "who gives a shit", but then I read that the FBI was offering a $2 million reward for him.

$2 MILLION DOLLARS FOR AN 82 YEAR OLD WHITE MAN!!!

And to make it worse, Barry lived in Santa Monica at one point. Whitey Bulger could have been our day job! You nail Whitey every now and then and it pays for the Nazi operation, no brainer.

Armed with this information, I went to the FBI's 10 Most Wanted List thinking I'd see what other low hanging fruit was out there... WTF? Everyone else on the list is a Mexican drug lord, and they're only offering $100,000 for each of them. The potential ass-kicking to dollar ratio for each of these guys is exponentially higher. I totally missed the boat, I need Woody Allen to become a wanted fugitive so I can Dogg the Bounty Hunter him. I believe it would look something like this...

*Me Bounty-Hunting Woody Allen In Order To Support My Nazi-Hunting Operation

Such a missed opportunity.

It aint all bad

Being in an entourage can have some great perks. In my case as I mentioned earlier it means I get a pay check, but aside from that sometimes being with the right crew gets you some memorable moments.
Was going to a Dodger game yesterday for inter-league play one of them? No.
Was going to a game, sitting in a suite and having unlimited beers handed to me one of them? No.
Was going to a game, having Tommy Lasorda come into the suite and wish a friend happy birthday one of them? No.
Was having Tommy Lasorda ramble on about how there wasn't a "chinaman's chance" that his assistant would ever find a girlfriend one of them? Yes!!!!!!

I love old people. There are no rules once you make it to 80.

Damn you Mother Nature!!!

Due to the recent tsunami, my billable work at my so called day job has dried up quicker than the shores of Japan. This has kinda put me in a pickle (what the fuck does that mean?) because with no billable work comes no paycheck. Sure, I could look for another job but its tough when the best way to describe me is to think about any of the ten to fifteen guys in 50 Cent's entourage. None of them are doing anything, but as long as 50 makes hit records, they get paid! I am one of these people that show up when the projects are good, throws out some jokes, possibly get my project manager lunch, and bill a few hours here and there. With the aftermath of the tsunami, there ain't no hit records coming out and suddenly I am looking for a job at Wendy's. I either need the economy to improve or MC Hammer to have a come back. My hanger on status is going to shit!

I need to get paid!!!

Mikey has irritable bowl syndrome

The other night I had my first bowel of life cereal in what has to be twenty years and it didn't take more than three bites to realize why I haven't had it since Reagan was in the white house. By bite four the sweat was running down my face even though the room was a cool 68 degrees. My ass quivered as I ran to the bathroom. Why did I buy such a stupid belt? Ah, the sweet release of liquid life cereal shooting out my ass in less than 5 mouthfuls. Wait a minute this isn't my bathroom!

Anyway, my point is I am not sure what is in that stuff. Ground up fiberglass? Perhaps something worse like soluble fiber? Whatever it is, one would have to assume that Mikey must have some serious bowel problems if he is still eating this stuff after thirty years. I am guessing full blown Crohn's or maybe just a touch of colitis. Poor kid.



Yeah, I am back to posting.

If I ever had a son - A Father's Day Post

Went to the beach this weekend, at the local market they had this letter hanging on the wall. It's a little tough to read so here's the text:

"When I grow up I want to be a butcher. I want to be a butcher because I like meat. My favorite type of meat is steak. Sausage tastes good too. I also like hamburgers with pickles and ketchup. Another reason why I want to be a butcher is because I want to try other meats. I might end up liking something I have never tried before. If I like it, I will sell it. My friends will want to buy meat from me and tell their families about my excellent fresh meat. In addition I can eat all the meat I want for free since I like meat so much I can eat it whenever I want. I can call my family and tell them to have some meat. As you can see, I want to be a butcher because I like meat. I would try other meats and I can eat meat for free."

I want this kid to be my son.

Tracy Jordan Morgan aint all bad.

There has been a lot of negative press about Tracy Morgan lately. I guess he made some off colored jokes about killing his kid if he was gay and came home lisping. People are acting like he's a pariah. Has anyone ever listed to Tracy on the Howard Stern show? These comments seem tame compared to his normal stuff. Anyway I have to give Louie C.K. credit. He defended Tracy and pointed out the guy is doing standup not preaching at a pulpit. It would be awesome if Tracy was a preacher though. Maybe standing on a milk crate in Union Square, telling everyone the mother ship is coming. Soon enough I'm sure.

Finally, I have to agree with him. If my kid came home and was a black homo, I would want to stab that little nigga too!

Now I know I am not supposed to use that word but come on, this is for the sake of comedy! I am obviously talking about the word "homo".

Weepy Weiner Licked by Breitbart

A trembling, deflated Weiner

Aptly named and over-exposed member of Congress Anthony Weiner
("D"-NY) spilled on his turgid turptitude cocky conduct today during a particularly penis-related press conference, in which he gave penetrating insight into his recent public boners. Barry's staff made contact with Weiner's, and despite much friction and stiff resistance from his right-hand man, managed to milk the following quote directly from Weiner's mouth:

"No, I'm not thinking about running for president in 2012 with Eliot Spitzer as my vice president, but yeah, that would make a pretty funny bumper sticker. By the way put your cock back in your pants, you fucking disgusting bum"

[The Barry Rides declined to do so]

More people that are cooler than I am

Smoking babies, teenagers that sail around the world, and now these broads.... The list keeps growing.

Bummer Dad

These days, with celebrity adoptions being all the rage, I often find myself thinking that it must be a mixed blessing to be a kid that's taken into the home of a celebrity. On one hand, you're typically plucked from abject poverty where, in all likelihood, your tenth birthday would find you either: sewing sneakers in a Taiwanese Nike factory, or performing oral sex on tourists in a Romanian brothel. Neither are particularly appealing options (although at least in the brothel, they allow you a cigarette break every couple hours). On the other hand, if you get adopted by a celebrity, it seems you end up as an accessory, like one of Paris Hilton's dogs; only to be replaced by a newer cuter model once your age and ethnicity are no longer novel.
Take for instance the child recently adopted by Elton John and his husband, David Furnish. This child will probably be raised with every advantage one can have. He'll be offered opportunities that few could ever wish for, and probably be loved and cared for in the best possible way. But... he's named after one of Elton John's songs, and he'll probably be kept up all night while his dads throw fabulous Victorian costume parties in their palatial mansion. Kinda shitty, no? (Coulda been worse, he could be named Crocodile Rock I guess).

Any way you cut it, it seems like a drag, until you consider the following unfortunate: Ted Mann. Here's a guy that was raised like a normal kid, only to find out later in life that his biological father was Ted Nugent, the beef jerky eating, s-whistling, bow-hunting, motor-city madman.

Not since Luke Skywalker, has someone discovered that they had a suckier dad.

Kent, I want 500 words on this by the morning....

Generally I'm not superstitious, but I'm beginning to believe the rumor that the cast of the Superman movies was cursed. First you had Margot Kidder going bat-shit, taking her teeth out, and moving into a bush. Sure that was bad, but she was Canadian, so it seemed to make sense. Then there was Marlon Brando, he got super-fat and his kid killed some people, but again who doesn't that happen to? Christopher Reeve fell off of a horse and subsequently required a nurse to massage the poop out of him. Tragic and awful, but come on, horse jumping? That's just slightly less dangerous than Thunderdome. So while everyone said the cast was cursed, I was able to chalk all of these things up to coincidence.

That is, until I read this morning's news. Apparently Jackie Cooper, the actor that played the newspaper editor, Perry White, died yesterday in a nursing home. He was 88 years old. In the words of someone much wiser than myself:

...and it is in the humble opinion of this
narrator that this is not just "Something
That Happened." This cannot be "One of those
things..." This, please, cannot be that.
And for what I would like to say, I can't.
This Was Not Just A Matter Of Chance.
-Ricky Jay, Magnolia
What sort of evil shit went down on that movie set in order to bring on this type of karmic-shitstorm? Maybe the movie was filmed on an Indian burial-ground, or maybe Jimmy Olsen punched a gypsy between takes. Whatever the story is, if you ever see Terrence Stamp walking towards you on the sidewalk, I suggest you cross the street.

America ruins everything. . . Bin Laden dead!

For close to ten years I have been threatening to write a screenplay about my trials and tribulations of hunting Bin Laden. Now it seems pointless to share my journey with the world. I will say this, in act one I hunt Osama while wearing a kid's small Boba fett mask. In act two I cry at my father's grave while pumping my fists in the air. Finally in act three I spend my reward for capturing the leader of al Qaeda like I was an extra in Lottery Ticket. It was to be my finest work. Alas, the world will never see it.

Osama bin Laden is DEAD

In more important news, I neglected to fully close the bag in my Grape-Nuts box yesterday and they are fuckin kinda stale now. Also I'm having trouble re-rooting my HTC Evo 4G, which really pisses me off, cause I think Sprint added some kind of cockblocking software to their latest firmware update. Goddammit, and tomorrow's Monday. Fuck my life.

Who Is Picking This Art?

Got this pop-up today when checking my email, and aside from not caring who takes care of my loved ones once I die (I plan to be buried at sea along with everything I own), I am struck by the inappropriateness of the girl's funeral attire. If my daughter showed up at my burial site wearing hot-pants, I'd burst forth from the grave like the dead father in Creepshow and force her to put on some proper clothing.



Although, since I am going to be buried at sea, I guess shorts would be appropriate....

Never mind.