The other girl in Brokedown Palace

Last night I rented Underworld: Evolution. I really wanted V for Vendetta but some 14 year old boy beat me to the last copy in Blockbuster. Since the target audience for both movies is the same I figured they would be interchangable. The story really is secondary for both of these movies anyway. I mean it really comes down to which piece of ass you want to stare at for two hours. Natalie Portman, Kate Beckinsale. Kate Beckinsale, Natalie Portman. Either way I would have been happy.

On another note did anyone know that Kate Beckinsale was the other girl in Brokedown Palace?

Too bogged down to blog

I have been neglecting my blog like a red headed stepchild for the last couple of days. It hasn't been for naught though. I am in the process of building another site that I am hoping to share with all two readers of this site very soon.

I don't want to spoil it, but let's just say the new site is going to be the greatest thing you have ever seen. Remember the briefcase in Pulp Fiction? This is going to be better. At the very least funnier.

HBO strikes gold

Watch Lucky Louie

Because I said so!

Thankless Job - part 2

Think about your average sanitation worker. What are his interests? Sports, women, cars? Now think about said trash man getting in the cab of a garbage truck to sit next to Boy George in capri pants. How loud is Boy George singing 'Do you really want to hurt me?'

My own damn fault: Night Listener Review

Robin Williams owes me $10.50. I just saw 'The Night Listener' and I want my money back. Like most things in my life that make no sense, I spend one day mocking the guy's lack of talent and drinking problem and the next shelling out cash to see him act in what could easily have passed for a Lifetime movie. Not that there is anything wrong with Lifetime . . . it's just the lack of Valerie Bertinelli really threw me off.




Quick synopsis:

Robin Williams plays a gay radio host who is having trouble with his relationship with Bobby Cannavale. A young listener befriends Williams. Listener turns out to be Toni Collette pretending to be Rory Culkin. End of story.

My version:

Popeye gets dumped when Will's boyfriend realizes he isn't into bears. Muriel finally realizes no one will marry let alone have children with her so she creates an adoptive son in her head. Popeye gets so coked up he believes anything. End of story.

Final point:

If you're at the ticket counter and trying to decide between Little Miss Sunshine and The Night Listener, I think you know what to do.

So hot!!

If you haven't seen it yet, I am very disappointed in you.

Duece, the sequel

I never thought I would go to more tennis matches than baseball games in one summer, but '06 seems to be the year. Tonight I went to the JPMorgan Chase Open at the Home Depot Center in Carson, California. I finally got to see women's tennis live and it was everything I hoped it would be. Maybe I mean that in a perverted way, maybe I don't.

Here are some tips, if you find your level of sophistication rising and you want to go to see the pros:

1. Only go to night games. Being in the sun for a day game is brutal, not just on the players but on the spectators as well. If you think you know more than me and insist on going to a day game, make sure you bring sunglasses and sun block. You can thank me later.
2. Only go to women’s matches. There are two reasons for this: One, women are pretty; men are not. Two, women actually rally when playing; with a men's match the points are too fast.
3. Make sure you get good seats. If you want to go, it is worth the extra few bucks to sit close enough to get hit with a stray ball (Peggy, thanks for front row seats).
4. Make sure you understand how the scoring works. I had this explained to me the last time I went and it makes all the difference. Hell, I just like saying 'DUECE.'
5. Try to see a doubles game, basically doubling a good thing.

The Open runs through the weekend so if you are around I think it is totally worth trying to get tickets to.

Some pics:

Dreams - the window to my soul

It has been awhile since I shared one of my nut bag dreams. Last night I dreamt that Hugh Hefner hired my next-door neighbor (the one who got a D.U.I. in my car) and Kevin Bacon to kill me. When they showed up to do the deed, they told me to act brain damaged and there would be no need to shoot me. I guess being brain damaged is the same thing as being dead in their eyes. I did as they said and off they went. Can I now consider myself an integral part of the six degrees of Kevin Bacon game?

Don't most people dream of being friends with Hugh Hefner? Just my luck to think he wants me dead.

Thanks, Terrorists - part 2

Scheduled departure time: 5:50 p.m. (EST)
Scheduled arrival time: 8:50 p.m. (PST)

Actual departure time: 10:53 p.m. (EST)
Actual arrival time: 1:58 a.m. (PST)

My Hero

I don't know how or why, but Samuel Jackson just called me to make sure I was going to go see Snakes on Plane, August 18th.

"Hey, sewer rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I'd never know 'cause I wouldn't eat the filthy motherfucker."

Just my luck

I am about to go to the airport to fly back to Los Angeles. I'm sure the lines wont be any longer than usual. Thanks, Terrorists.

Robin Williams finally makes me laugh

Robin Williams goes to rehab

Am I the only one who has never found Robin Williams funny?

I'm being overly critical. I will give credit where credit is due. Robin Williams made an amazing Popeye.

Back in Nam

Direct Quote from Rambo: First Blood

Trautman: Company leader to identify Baker Team - Rambo, Messner, Ortega, Coletta, Jurgensen, Barry, Krakauer confirm! This is Colonel Trautman.
Rambo: They're all gone Sir.
Trautman: Not Barry, he made it.
Rambo: Barry's gone too Sir. Got himself killed in Nam, didn't even know it. Cancer ate him down to the bone.
Trautman: I'm sorry, I didn't know.
Rambo: I'm the last one Sir.

I think it is obvious that one of the writers put my name in as a joke. With a name like Barry you avoid the draft with a note from your mother.

Tour de France title to be stripped

You know this guy must have had some amazing excuses back in elementary school when he either forgot to do his homework or did a half assed job on it.





"My pet Mennonite dragon ate it."
"It was fine when I handed it in. The French kid must have tampered with it."
"Mel Gibson told me the Jews are to blame."

Landis tells Leno it might have been something he ate.

A new enemy emerges

I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! I hate bees! But how do I really feel?

Not since I was five and forced to swim at the community pool have I been stung so many times at once. Last count was 46. Fine, it was only twice, but it still hurt like a bitch. At least I can take pleasure in knowing that both bees died while stinging me.

Nip/Tuck

Watching Nip/Tuck makes me pretty. If you don't watch the show, you are as ugly on the inside as you are on the out.

I have been spreading the word: Nip/Tuck

Baby Cage

In NYC space comes at a premium. You have to make the most out of every square foot. I have these friends who were forced to subdivide their living room as to make room for their new baby. Even though the nursery looks nice and is more than enough room for a toddler, I can't stop thinking of it as a baby cage.

Today I was at the doctor's and I noticed a real baby cage. I think if my friends had known this existed, they would have forgone the construction team. It has everything you could want: Room to move, safety glass on the top, wheels for when you have company, and storage underneath.

I think someone needs to investigate why Mt. Sinai has this thing.

How awesome would a baby cage match be? Two enter the cage, only one comes out!! I think I will start writing the treatment tonight.

I piss excellence

I don't want to alarm anyone but I think Will Farrell implanted a mind control device in my brain. There is no other explanation for the fact that I saw 'Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby' five hours ago and now I have a two inch surgical wound above my ear. On top of that Ricky Bobby and baby Jesus are dancing in my head. I really would like to thank Mr. Bobby for letting the Rustler Steak House and Manimal the TV show sponsor his race car.

Just remember, "if you aren't first, you are last." Words to live by. My only problem with this movie is the fact that it ended. Oh, and there was no Burt Reynolds. Who makes a movie about NASCAR and doesn't include Burt?

Thankless Job

I have no idea what garbage men in NYC are paid, but I think it is a safe guess to say not enough. When I run for mayor of the city I am adding better pay for sanitation workers to my pigeon-killing platform.

No one should have to deal with this.

What is this?

Is that it?

I wouldn't say my hands are overly large yet for some reason people have described me as having French toast sticks for fingers. According to precise measurements (elementary school wooden ruler), my hand is six inches from the base of my palm to the tip of my pointer finger. (*See example a) You might ask why you need to know the size of my hand. Trust me, it is very important.

*Example a

Last night I went to a nice Spanish restaurant in Paramus, New Jersey. El Cid is the name for those who care. They serve the typical paella and fish in green sauce dishes that you would expect. I however, always like to order the prime rib when I am there. I am not sure if it is the taste or the size that gets me every time. (*See example b)

*Example b

My dinner shows everything that is wrong with America and apparently Spain. While I chewed each delicious bite, I thought to myself that it might not be a bad idea to drop prime rib this size with little parachutes over the Middle East as humanitarian relief during this difficult time. Each piece could feed a family. At first I thought about dropping the prime rib without parachutes, but I had this image of them killing people or crashing through roofs. America gets blamed for enough. That would really cause some bad PR.

In any event, I thoroughly enjoyed each and every bite of my prime rib, fresh potato chips, steamed vegetables, yellow rice, flan, coffee, and one medium coke. I highly recommend that if for some odd reason you find yourself stranded in Bergen County, New Jersey, you go to El Cid. If you have no conscience like me, order the prime rib. If you have a conscience, eat through your tears. (*See example c)

*Example c