You know how it's 99% disgusting to throw-up? It stinks, burns, splashes everywhere, makes your eyes water, and cramps up your stomach muscles. BUT, there is the 1%. That far corner of your mind that you don't want to admit is there in the middle of your five alarm fire of hot mess. It is the part that is enjoying the vomiting process. Hopefully, my blog is that 1% .

Wednesday, January 27, 2010


I have been having some strange dreams lately. Most of them go as follows: as I am in the process of promoting a scantily clad woman to clad-less, I discover she has a curious deviancy IE, a pickle or a pickle and hot pocket (once, she had some form of a decorative body-quilt inlaid along her thighs and stomach that prevented access to her love closet). Here is the weird part, none of these accouterments has even remotely affected my performance (which many of you already know is topnotch). I've read where dreams are the unconscious mind’s way of relieving stress and I am used to the occasional odd event but –and I do not want to sound intolerant- I have less than zero desire to engage in a game of batter up. I mean it’s not like my dreams have me pursuing conquests with dudes. They are always smoking hot chicks but once naked I laugh to discover that I have been duped and figure what the hell, no one’s around anyway so.... I usually wake up before anything gets out of hand, lean over the side of bed and throw up on the carpet, sorry Dash (ruff!).

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Michigan defense contractor has God in its sights

Associated Press

Look, I have never been religious per se. Unless I just plunked $100 down on “odd” at the Roulette table in the Casino Royale, I pretty much go about my day without thinking about God. The “miracles” of rainbows, true love, and cocaine aside, the only Intelligent Design I believe in pretty much happens at Steve Jobs‘ desk (maybe his bed, mine is not to question).

Okay I have kids and they are beautiful but that is science, specifically, my wife’s DNA. And full disclosure, it’s not that I’m an unbeliever, I just don’t believe religion (Noah lived to be 900 my ass). That being said, were I a defense contractor, I would probably not choose to put God in my sights. I realize that this is a play on words (okay after reading the story) but the article scared me even more. The contractor, Trijicon of Wixom, Michigan, manufacturers of assault rifle sights, actually stamped references to Bible verses on their products ie. "JN8:12," a reference to John 8:12: "Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, 'I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life,'" according to the King James version of the Bible. AND: 2COR4:6, a reference to part of the second letter of Paul to the Corinthians: "For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ," the King James version reads. So if I am interpreting Trijicon’s intent correctly, on a vessel used to spread freedom among the haters, “the light of life that shines in our hearts and knowledge of God” just happens to be shared by killing any fucking dissenters. Now that is preaching to the unconverted! Good work Trijicon! You have taken sharing the word of God to new lows. Even worse, the US Government purchased $66 million of product before the discovery. I wish I had something funny to say.


Friday, January 15, 2010

My Late Night Take

Who is Jay Leno? His is not quirky, vulgar, snarky, eccentric, sarcastic, edgy, or even funny. You could make the argument that he used to be funny. But that was way before he had a regular gig on television. I understand late night show hosts strive for broad appeal in an attempt to gain ratings but Jay does it all wrong. He comes across as a hollow shell hoping that his wide smile will endear. I am a little bitter because the efforts of Conan, Kimmel and Letterman are obvious. They have worked hard to earn their place. Sometimes they are crude and offensive but they are also inventive and appreciative of guests and audiences (maybe not staff, but who gives a shit). Leno should get into one of his everyman late model cars that only he can afford and drive down sunset into the sunset and leave the entertaining to entertainers.

Monday, January 11, 2010

What Happens Really

I hope when I die there is an afterlife. I will be greeted by my own personal Jesus who will give me a guided tour of the new digs. We will pass down a long, well lit corridor lined with naked, vaginaless (I’m assuming it’s Hell) Zooey Deschanel clones and I’ll be led into my very own theater. Jesus will hand over a 32 gallon popcorn bucket and just as the lights go out and the movie starts, I’ll realize that fucker forgot the butter. It will take a few minutes to recognize my life’s highlight reel, in it I will get to bask in the reliving of peeing on the floor of my nursery school class because I was too shy to ask permission to use the washroom. Laugh all over again about the time I stabbed Gary with a 6” Schrade hunting knife as the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was me licking his blood from the dull blade. Then there was the time I was “caught” masturbating by our French house maid and she made me give her a glass bottom boat(at least I didn’t have to clean up). Then when the movie is over I’ll be placed in a cubicle next to John Banks (I'm pretty sure we died in a murder-suicide) where we’ll spend eternity reading mundane Facebook status updates and not have the ability to unfriend anyone.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Film Review, maybe an ongoing series, don’t know yet: AVATAR

January 4, probably already saw it but..

spoiler alerts aplenty, so don’t come abitchin’ to me later.

First of all, fricken Jason was late. I got to his house right on time and he was still getting dressed. What’s up with that shit? That dude has like 500 versions of the same shirt, how hard is it to make a decision plaid-boy? Plus I was really jonesing to get baked and I timed it to the minute and now I had to worry about accommodating his schedule. We finally get there and the next thing I know, he got the times mixed up and we were like 45 minutes early so we walked around the back of the Megaplex and bought some 99 cent Chinese food from some dude standing next to a dumpster that said they fucked up his order. The economy being what it is, I figured worst thing that could happen is I get the squirts and have to jet during the boring James-I-can’t-make-a-goddamn-flick-without-injecting-a-stupid-fucking-love-story-and-leave-well-enough-alone-Cameron moment. We split the egg-foo what the fuck kinda meat is this and met Vic at the fire exit to let us in (my pass must have been lost in the mail). Vic made us buy him popcorn and some jelly-bellies which was fine by me because he just saved my ass $12.50. I got back to my seat just in time and I tried to not talk and really pay attention since this was gonna be my first official review. Jason wet-farted and I swear to God it changed my sense of sight because every Avatar in Avatar was blue and I knew that there was no way in hell that was a thing. So what happens breaks down like this: wounded ex-marine twin brother of a dead scientist is recruited to replace him and be an AVATAR operator that infiltrates (for an evil human corporate machine) an indigenous people(Na’Vis)’s beautiful world full of wonder and danger only to fall for a sexy sassy smart Na’vi who happens to be the King’s offspring. Turns out he sides with the Na’vi and there will be blood (but no on-screen sex).

Final review: Smurferrific!

Saturday, January 2, 2010

In 1 Sentence

Okay so here’s the pitch: 2 confused but sexually charged dudes spend their days selling commodities (lumber/panel products) while dreaming of ways to manufacture something (anything) creative (i.e.; comic books, websites, TV pilots, film shorts, webisodes, podcasts but NOT blogs) that will justify their insecure, pitiful existence and thus render their nights less anxiety ridden, ya know the sleeplessness, lucid bed-wetting, night terrors, vomiting (voluntary and involuntary), sweating, pajama shitting (voluntary and involuntary), premature-masturbatory-ejaculation (yes, that IS a thing) fail in almost ever aspect with the simple exception of thinking that they are funny, but here’s the rub: they are ONLY funny to one another.

Studio Boss: RUN WITH IT!!