Britney Spears is a skank.
Current mood: confused
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

I was looking at the MSN homepage today and saw that Britney Spears was the days top search.  I stopped and thought about that for a second and wondered what the fuck these people were searching for that they couldn't already get from those damn entertainment shows (which now count into the thousands) and tabloid magazines that require a shot of Britney on every damn page.  I believe it breaks down as follows:

1) People who genuinely care about Britney and want to found out as much as possible on how her "career" is going and how her new album is doing. 

2) People who want to get a look at her shaved vagina.

3) People who want to keep up with her court proceedings and find out where her crack babies will end up.

4) Vegas oddsmakers keeping tabs on Britney to predict the date of her overdose.

If you fall into the category of 1 I hope you get hit by a semi-truck this week and your mother can't identify you.

If you fall into the category of 2 you are a lonely man who has obviously never come across the myriads of quality porn sites this Internet has to offer.  Britney's baby crotch is for the birds (By the way, I am going to get that copyrighted and tattooed on my ball bag).

If you fall into the category of 3 just be sure of one thing.  No matter who those babies end up with, they will spend there last moments of freedom rifling through their overalls for leftover meth rocks and getting arrested without a t-shirt while trying to knock over a 7-11 with a Dale Earnhardt commemorative plate.

If you fall into the category of 4 be advised that I have her buying the farm in April of '08.  I would also think about playing the trifecta with Britney Spears to win, Lindsay Lohan to show and Nicole Ritchie to place.  Good luck gentleman.

11:50 PM - 6 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Postcard from Capt. Smooth
Current mood: hopeful
Category: Life

Dear friends,

Please forgive me for leaving so abruptly but I got entangled in a bit of a legal hoo-ha and well....let's just say I skipped town for awhile.  Not sure when I'll be back as I'm not sure there is a statute of limitations for sex crimes but I will be checking in from time to time. 

Also, please don't tune into the next installment of Dateline's To Catch a Predator: Sherman Oaks edition.  It's really boring and there isn't much to see.  I think Antique Roadshow is on at the same time and that makes for way better television. 

If anybody is wondering about the bear he is also in an unnamed landlocked European country (hint: Serpico moved here).  Originally we had planned to flee...I mean leave....together but we felt it would attract too much attention.  Sort of like those old Alvin and the Chipmunk episodes where Alvin, Simon and Theodore would get on each other's shoulders and wear a long trench coat to cover themselves so they could get into R rated movies and donkey shows and stuff.  Except in our case, instead of trying to get into an R-rated show we would be trying to enter a country with no extradition law.

That said, I must leave now as I'm afraid Interpol is tracing this transmission.  The Romanian Rattlesnake will be taking over for awhile.  He has strong moral fiber and never judges a book by it's author.  Until next time folks. 

 Also, Remember, don't watch any Dateline for awhile.  Son of a bitch Hanson....

Wish you were here,

Capt. Smooth

Currently reading : Mao Tse-Tung on Guerilla Warfare By Brigadier General Samuel B., USMC Ret., Trans GRIFFITH Release date: 1963

12:21 AM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

The hot friend as red herring...An Observation.

I have noticed of late the underhanded ways women on Myspace try to create traffic specifically by posing with their hot friend.  Note to guys: if you see a myspace with a bonafide ogre posing next to an absolute vision I will bet my Skeet Ulrich lunchbox that the myspace belongs to the heffalump and the hottie is being used as bait.  Here is a hint.  If you want people to check out your myspace tell your hot friend to take the day off, grab one of those fancy cameras with the megapixels, go to the zoo and have a zoo worker take a picture of you going down on one of those half zebra, half horse, half giraffe fuckers.  Trust me, they got one down at the San Diego Zoo.  I think they call it Steve or something.  Just ask for Steve when you get there and they'll show you were they keep the beast.  I guarantee you atleast 7,000 friends the second you put that picture up.  I shit you not.  I would do it myself but I think Steve gives me allergies and I always forget my Claritin. 

Additionally, I would like to address our current trade deficit with China and the lack of oversight our government has shown.....Nah, I'm just fuckin' with you.

Currently reading : The Long Walk By Stephen King Release date: 01 April, 1999

1:07 PM - 5 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Giving Thanks and Kicking Anorexia. A Noble Mission.
Current mood: accomplished
Category: Life

As I carefully maneuvered my gravy boat around the Mayflower centerpiece and cornucopia we had set up on Thanksgiving, I couldn't help but think about all those starving girls in Beverly Hills who would love to enjoy a meal like this.

If I didn't have my tear ducts surgically removed so people didn't think I was gay when I watched The Notebook, a thought like that would certainly bring a tear to my eye.  I decided at once to start a foundation for anorexic girls in the greater Beverly Hills region or what is widely referred to as Beverly Hills adjacent.  Such philanthropy is rare for a man of my apathetic nature but I was overcome with the holiday spirit and today I give thanks for coming up with a great idea to help starving chics in Los Angeles.

First I will need to get a spokesperson.  Someone like Sally Struthers but at least 3,000 pounds skinnier and relevant.  I was thinking about someone skinny girls from Los Angeles could look up to like the girl on Laguna Beach or the girl from that show The Hills or one of those cunts from my Super Sweet 16.  We can pay them top dollar to go to Arby's and stuff there face and then have them face the camera with chipotle sauce dripping down there shirt and say something like, " See? eating is cool y'all."

I am taking suggestions and submissions for spokespeople and test subjects. 

10:35 PM - 2 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

Prom Week at Lawn Ornament High. - Part I
Category: Romance and Relationships

Setting: Fort Lauderdale. A tacky Suburban home, littered with lawn ornaments.

A  PLASTIC FLAMINGO is cooling off near one of those colorful pinwheels.  A bashful GARDEN GNOME shuffles over to the Flamingo.

GARDEN GNOME: Hey Barry, how's it going? You don't look so good.

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: I don't feel so fucking good Lance.  That motherless cunt sprayed the lawn with pesticide again and I'm on my last leg here.  I mean shit,  if this lawn were any greener the neighbors could play billiards on it.

GARDEN GNOME: Are you gonna be alright for the prom?

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: Shit yeah.  The CERAMIC FROG by the steps is gonna' hook me up with some Demerol.  I won't be feeling shit come prom.  Correction! I won't be feeling shit except for my beak breakin off a piece of dat' ass.

The Flamingo points to the GIRL BENDING OVER TO PICK FLOWERS THUS EXPOSING HER UNDERWEAR lawn ornament.

GARDEN GNOME: I can't believe you got her to go out with you.  She is fine!

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: She is also a Grade-A skeezer of the first degree.  Yesterday morning, right after the sprinklers went on, me and the ceramic frog ran a downtown train on her. 

GARDEN GNOME: No Way!

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: Yes way!  She won't be pickin' flowers right for atleast a week.  Anyway, what can I do you for Lance? 6th period is about to start.

GARDEN GNOME: I..I..guess I just wanted to ask your opinion..or...your help, I guess in asking out....errr...

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: Jesus Christ, spit it the fuck out already shorty!

GARDEN GNOME: I want to ask the VIRGIN MARY STATUE to the prom.

All lawn activity stops and most every ornament begins to laugh hysterically.

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: Are you shitting me? You want to ask out the Virgin Mary Statue?

GARDEN GNOME: Not a good idea?

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: Uhhhh. Well, first of all she is a hot piece of ass and you are a fucking gnome.  Plus dude, what do you want to take her for? I mean you want some action on prom night, right?

GARDEN GNOME: Yeah.

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: Well, the Virgin Mary is a bit of a prude dude.

GARDEN GNOME: I know.  The gnome near the large bush told me she's a virgin.  Won't it be great if I can be the first guy on the lawn to tap that?

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: You are dreaming dude.  Even the ceramic frog couldn't bag that shit and he cruises around in one of those sweet new lawnmowers with the 20 inch blades.

GARDEN GNOME: Well I know the Virgin Mary and I don't think she's impressed with those sorts of things.

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you dude.  That Virgin Mary statue may be a nice gal but she's out of your league gnome!

GARDEN GNOME: (head down, sulking) I know she is Barry but I can't get her out of my little gnome head. I suppose you're right though.  I'll just go solo with Kurt.

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: Kurt? First of all Kurt doesn't own any clothes.  He just stands there and pees in that damn fountain all day long.  You go with Kurt and people will start talking. Gabeesh?  You really want to take out the Virgin Mary Statue huh?

The Garden Gnome nods his little head causing his cap to fold over his little gnome eye.

PLASTIC FLAMINGO: Then let me give you some tips. First of all, get rid of that damn satchel.  You haven't had gold in that thing for years and it smells. Second of all you might want to shave.  You are the only one in school with a 2 foot white beard.  You look older than my guidance counselor.  Next, you may want to lay of that pipe for awhile.  I doubt the Virgin Mary's a smoker dude.

GARDEN GNOME: Geez! Thanks Barry! I'll do just that.  I can't wait to ask her!

The plastic flamingo shakes his head. The ceramic frog hops into frame.

CERAMIC FROG: You want some zanny bars or oxycontin kid? They might help you build up some courage to ask that frigid bitch out.

GARDEN GNOME: No thanks Chazz and don't call her a bitch. She's immaculate.

CERAMIC FROG: Whatever kid.

The Gnome shuffles away with a new found confidence. The ceramic frog and the flamingo spark up a fat one and laugh at the gnome's audacity.

END OF ACT I

8:47 AM - 7 Comments - 11 Kudos - Add Comment

Prof. Plum in the Library with the Candlestick: An Erotic One Act Play
Current mood: crazy
Category: Romance and Relationships

Setting: A large library, the type that smells of rich leather.  This is a no paperback zone.  We're talking hard-cover Chaucers and first editions of Catcher in the Rye.  There is also one of those neat globes of the Earth that open up to reveal the good scotch collection.  Whoever owns this library is a pompous ass.

A slutty looking Miss Peacock makes her way in the library holding a martini glass in one hand and scratching her vagina with the other.  She looks forlornly at the large painting of Col. Mustard (the proprieter of this lovely home).  Beneath the painting lies an ornate mantle that holds a brass armadillo and two candlesticks.

A drunk ass Prof. Plumb soon follows behind Miss Peacock.  He is holding a bottle of Campari with one hand and supporting himself on a medieval knight costume with the other.  Prof. Plumb is a fat ass who wears a suit that's 2 sizes too small.  He also has left-over urine stains on his pants from not shaking correctly and a lazy eye.  He is a slob and Miss Peacock winces at his arrival.

Prof. Plumb: Hey sexy legs. Whattya' doin' in here (hiccups). Can I freshen up your drunk. [ He stumbles over the large globe, knocking over the liquor and shattering the whole contraption.  He looks down at his hand which has a piece of the globe sticking out of it.]

Miss Peacock: It seems that you have part of the African continent stuck in your hand you clumsy pig! 

Prof. Plumb: [He slaps Miss Peacock across her face] Don't talk to me like that you sassy cunt! I'm a god damn professor! Show me respect!

Miss Peacock: (shocked but resolute) You study the migration of the South American Whooping Crane. Your a professor of ugly ass birds. What kind of shit is that anyway?!

Prof. Plumb: Yeah? Well I know me one bird I'd like to study.  And that's a Peacock.  Come here you..... (Chasing Miss Peacock around the large mahogany desk).

Miss Peacock:  No!!! No!!! Help Me!!! Col. Mustard!!!! Miss Scarlett!!! Mr. Green!!!! He's going to kill me!!!

Prof. Plumb: I don't want to hurt you Peacock!! I just want to get to know you better!! I saw you looking at me at the dinner table when I started talking about how I saw Scott Baio walking out of a Radio Shack the other day.  We locked eyes and I know we shared something.

[Miss Peacock stops]

Miss Peacock: Well I guess your right, I, I did get a little turned on by your Scott Baio story.... I suppose we can french kiss for awhile and we can work up to some heavy petting, but don't tell Col. Mustard. We sort of have a thing and his old timey mustache gets me off like crazy.

Prof. Plumb: Fine, whatever [he jumps her bones]

[Prof. Plumb accidentally sticks his thumb in Miss Peacock's ass and she knees him in the balls]

Miss Peacock: I didn't say anything about shockers.  That Col. Mustard's territory you filthy bird fucker.

[Prof. Plumb lunges for her but falls face first into the mantle.  He grabs a candlestick as he slides down the wall.  He points the candlestick at her.]

[Miss Peacock makes a run for the door.  It's locked!!  Prof. Plumb pulls out the keys and shines a devilish grin.}

Miss Peacock: No!

Prof. Plumb: (Getting up) Scream all you want bitch.  Nobody can hear you. Everyone went out to watch the new Sarah Michelle Gellar movie at the AMC.  

[Prof. Plumb's crazed eyes glaze over and he starts beating Peacock mercilessly with the candlestick]

Miss Peacock: (barely audible, dying) I always thought it would be in the conservatory with the rope.....

Prof. Plumb: (covered in blood) My god what have I done.

Curtain falls...

1:32 AM - 7 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

My Neighbor the Eunuch: The Pavesh Botachari Story.
Current mood: contemplative

My neighbor the eunuch.

First a quick definition:

Eunuch:

1. A castrated man employed as a harem attendant or as a functionary in certain Asian courts.
2. A man or boy whose testes are nonfunctioning or have been removed.
3. Informal. An ineffectual, powerless, or unmasculine man.

Pavesh works at the local Chevron and I always wondered about him.  He moved into my life/ apartment complex around September and my apartment is adjacent to his.  In the night I can hear him howling like a crazed dog.  I believe he is cursing Ganesh or some other Indian Deity but I cannot be sure for I, nor the bear speak Hindu.  He enjoys walking around the pool in a potato sack and he bronzes himself using curry oil and Darjeeling tea. 

 I asked Pavesh why he wore a potato sack and why he howled in the night.  He then took out a potato and threw it at me.  Normally that would offend me but in his case I sensed their was something special about him.  I told him that in our culture throwing a potato at another man was considered rude (unless of course you are Nick Nolte).  He began weeping like a young Baby Jesus and apologized to me.  All I know is pain he replied.  I asked if he needed a doctor and he told me that he was referring to emotional pain.  We then lit a Virgin Mary candle and sat next to the pool while he began to tell me the story of his life. 

Pavesh told me that he was raised in a poor village just outside Punjabi and that his parents were very poor.  To make ends meet they performed as mimes but they soon perished when the invisible box they had created caved in on them.  Pavesh was then raised by his older brother Hank.  Hank had an opium problem and when Pavesh turned three Hank stole Paveshs nutsack and sold it to a local opium trader for a quick high.  Pavesh never forgave his brother for pawning his testicles and moved to Calcutta years later to enter the booming tech market there.

Paveshs girlish voice and effeminate features were soon too much for some of his co-workers to handle.  They  threw rotten apricots at him and forced him to watch Just My Luck starring Lindsay Lohan until he couldnt take it anymore.  Pavesh could not endure the humiliation any longer and was forced to quit.

Pavesh then hitched a ride on a trans-atlantic steamer and arrived in New York with no nutsack and a dream.  Pavesh soon found work as a chamberlain to a brothel of mostly overweight black women in the Bronx.  Pavesh was ideally suited to guard the ladies bedchamber as they performed their duties.  Unfortunately Pavesh grew tired of the daily beatings he would incur and moved west via an old-timey unicycle.  He is now my neighbor in sunny Los Angeles where he is  pumping gas and trying to save money for dentistry school. Pavesh is also actively looking for a gang to join.

As we sat that day by the pool sipping absinthe and listening to the faint sounds of the Indian sitar I told him that although he will never have any testicles and would never know how it feels to truly please a woman you will always have my friendship and that of the bears friendship. Furthermore I said, Testicles dont make the man, inner beauty does. He wiped away a tear with his girlishly bony finger and told me in broken English that this was the first time he had ever felt comfortable in his own body.  I dont know why he said that because I was lying to him and the bear was laughing hysterically so I thought it was pretty damn clear we were lying to him. Regardless, we shared a moment and now every Tuesday the bear and I eat Indian food and listen to Indian sitar music with my neighbor the eunuch.

2:00 PM - 11 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

The Story of Herman "Suds" Gonzalez: Car Wash Impresario.
Current mood: indifferent
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

When ones lives in Los Angeles (or the City of Angels as I sometimes cleverly refer to it) they rely frequently on the automobile.  At times one must give back to the automobile and congratulate it for a job well done.  Such a reward is the car wash.  I have frequented many a car wash until I landed on one in particular.  I have not changed car washes since.  This is not because they give you a happy ending with your air freshener or because they stash a kilo of blow in your trunk (although both would be accepted).  It is because of one energetic lad that goes by the name of Herman Suds Gonzalez.

Suds as he is known by his friends (or amigos) is a 16 year old illegal who washes cars with the intensity of a whirling dervish on methamphetamines.  He is known to blow bubbles around himself while he cleans your car in order to build a flamboyant force-field.  He also wears short-shorts with the Mexican flag embroidered on the back and clicks his heels in the air when he finishes washing a particular car.  Also, he accepts cock-rings as tips and thats pretty convenient if youve ever inherited a bushel of cock-rings from any dead aunts or uncles or live near a cock-ring factory.

Suds enjoys building up a lather on your car and sliding down the hood while creating a parachute out of his wash rag and then doing this fabulous helicopter type trick as he gracefully lands on the ground, half straddling your fender.  At times Herman likes to wear angel wings, but-plugs and a hairnet to further heighten the experience.  If you are lucky enough to own a Mitsubishi Eclipse or Volkswagen Jetta he will rave-dance on top of your car and stick a free glow stick up your ass while throwing glitter in your hair.  An experience to say the least.

While many find it off-putting I consider Herman to be ahead of his time and a true artist in the car washing field.  The fact that he deep-throats exhaust pipes and blows smoke rings in old ladies faces never troubled me.  I did question his ethics once however when he urinated on a WWII veterans Ford Taurus and cleaned the car using his dead mothers prized ascot.

Today Herman Suds Gonzalez is considered provocateur by many and genius by some.  I never let anyone else clean my car.  It is the closest thing my Audi will ever get to being sodomized and that works better than Premium Unleaded. 

3:05 PM - 7 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment

The Grotesque Phenomenon called Traffic: A Play In One Act.
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Travel and Places

Today it took me one whole hour to get to work.  Sans traffic, it would take me all of 20 minutes to reach the same destination.  What traffic does to me is tantamount to going off-roading on a bicycle that has no seat. It is pure pain.  I feel like Michael Stipe sometimes (minus the making out with guys part) in that one R.E.M video where he just gets out of his car during rush hour and heads for the hills.

What makes this phenomenon worse are the hordes of assholes/retards who insist on talking on there cellphones and being oblivious towards everything thus making traffic more unbearable.  I would like to present to my faithful the following fantasy scenario:

Setting:

BEVERLY GLEN and SUNSET BLVD. (MORNING).

Captain Smooth is red with anger, eyes dead-set on the douche-bag in the Mercedes in front of him speaking on his razor phone and not realizing the light is green. Lt. Wadsworth hits the bong in shotgun and turns his furry head to Capt. Smooth as if to say Its On!.

Capt. Smooth:  If this motherless fuck doesnt move his fat ass in one second Im gonna take out my proton blaster and disintegrate this fool.

Lt. Wadsworth: (cough, cough) If you want, I can scurry over to his driver-side window and slash him with my boxcutter.just wait till I take this one last toke.

Capt. Smooth: No thanks.  This is something I have to take care of myself.  This injustice will not stand. 

Douche-Bag in Mercedes (talking on his cellphone): Did you see that new Garfield movie last night?  My God I havent laughed that hard since Mr. Belvedere was on the air.  I mean will Odie ever learn?  Anyway, Im on my way to the doctors office to get a three pound genital wart removed and I just love his waiting room.  Last time I went I must have looked through 7 Highlights for Kids magazines.  You know that one page with the hidden pictures?  Im like the best at that.  I dare you to be better than me at that.Oh, hold on a minute honeythere seems to be a large manchild approaching me with some sort of star-fleet commander uniform.hes probably selling oranges or something

Capt. Smooth: (Approaching douche-bag with large sock filled with nickels) This is for the little guy. Transmission over MotherFucker!

Captain Smooth drags out douche-bag by the ears and beats him mercilessly with sock o nickels until the man pees himself and begs for mercy.  Lt. Wadsworth cracks his bong pipe over douche-bag and begins stealing mans radio from car.  Both Smooth and Wadsworth pushes mans car off Canyon and go on merry way to the applause of bystanders.

            CAPTAIN SMOOTH, PATRON SAINT OF TRAFFIC.

9:44 AM - 8 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

A three point bulletin on the betterment of our society.
Current mood: annoyed
Category: Life

Addressing our energy crisis:

In an effort to conserve on gas I have decided to bring back the unicycle as the predominant means of transportation.  I plan on introducing a plan to the Senate floor that would force every American to forego there automobile and take up unicycling.  As an added bonus free juggling classes will be included.  It is my hope to see 7 million unicycles on the road by March 2009.  The punishment for drinking while unicycling will be 38 slashes with a wet noodle. Not one more, not one less.

Addressing the ongoing problem of women using the term: My babys daddy.

Upon the first violation you will be given a stern warning and your baby will be slapped.  Upon the second violation you will be banned from watching the Maury Povich show. Upon the third violation you will be shot, sight on scene.

Addressing the heinous fad of fashionable carrying bags for stupid little dogs:

It is my dream to sneak up behind one of these people who walk down the street with a dog purse in one hand and cell phone in the other and simply zip the bag shut causing their Chihuahua to die a horrible death.  While I love animals and make out with them frequently I believe a carrying-dog-purse-tragedy will shine light on the fad and therefore bring it to a screeching halt.  There is nothing more nauseating than seeing an animal inside a $3,000 Chanel bag.  Let the fucker walk.

4:13 PM - 6 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment