Witt and Wisdom

The Road To Pop Stardom

As someone who has seen his share of shooting stars, I've begun to take notice of a longstanding career pattern in the entertainment industry, specifically musicians. Specifically, specific female musicians.  Surely I'm not the first to have noticed.

The tried and true pattern goes something like this:

1.  Ing'enue - Awww, she's young and fresh-faced and does ProActiv ads even though she's never had a blemish anywhere on her inexplicably toned body.  Her vagina is made of rose pedals and she always smells like the breeze off the ocean after an electrical storm.  She sings about what love might be like if she could just find the right boy.  Disney is somehow involved in getting people to see her.  One (or all three) of her names ends in an "eee" sound, because that makes people think of dolphins and who in the shit doesn't love dolphins?  People who don't buy records, is who.  Ideally, the name would also be ethnic (BUT NOT TOO MUCH!) and would rhyme.  If you get all three - "eee", ethnic and rhyming name - you might as well give her a platinum record.  Young girls want to be her and mothers believe she is an excellent role model.  In some obscure interview, once, at 3:00 in the morning, she tells a reporter that she's still a virgin and plans to be until marriage.  Everyone believes it, including her.

2.  Reluctant Star - Well, she finally met a boy.  There's a 97% chance that he's broken her heart or is about to.  At least twice in every interview, she says how overwhelmed and blessed she feels from all of the love and attention the fans give her.  She thanks God for her success every day.  She says she's looking forward to writing more of her own music on the next album.  Whenever she says that, a record exec in the corner of the room coughs.  She looks pretty tired.  She's purchased a new home for her parents and still lives there with them in a very pink room, stating that for as long as she can remember she's wanted to be a princess and now she feels like one.  Off-handedly, during a taping of Cribs at the house, she mentions that she think "Princess" would be a good name for her next album.  More coughing from the corner.

3.  Butterfly -  She just wants to, I don't know...break FREE, ya know?  She feels like she's trapped in a shell of some kind.  She's seconds from getting a turtle tattoo before one of her friends says she's really more like a butterfly just coming out of its cocoon. They both cry and hug, because that is the most amazing analogy that anyone has created at tattoo parlor, ever.  The friend is extremely proud to have come up with it, right on the spot like that.  They both decide to get lower back butterfly tattoos to commemorate the genius.  She's moved into her own place, because even though she loves her parents, she needs her space.  She's got a "pretty serious" boyfriend now.  That first boyfriend was her first true love and she'll always have a place in her heart for him, but this new guy "gets" her.  Nobody is coming out and saying it, but we're all pretty sure this new guy is nailing her.  Her latest record is delayed, but it's only because "there's so much good stuff, it's tough to choose what should go on the record".  The record does eventually get released and there is a single hit, the title track from the album, "Liberation!".  The crowds at her concert chant it until she sings it and then they go to the bathroom.

4.  Whore - She has really gotten the hang of sex.   She insists that just because she's "asserting her sexuality as a woman" doesn't mean she's having sex, necessarily.  Though that may be true, she is asserting the hell out of two professional baseball players, the guitarist from YumTum, a pro skateboarder named Derek, a guy everyone is pretty sure deals blow named "Narf", Tom Wopat, a closeted boy band member, a hunk from the reality show "Organ Donor!" named Tank, and the lead singer from the girl group "FurClam", Betty Berbermunch.  She told her record label to go fuck itself, she knows what her fans want and what they want is reality.  They don't want some processed pop queen.  She's wrong, that's exactly what they want, and her album "Leather Muff" only debuts at #5, mostly based on the strength of her video for "My Ovaries" in which she rides a zebra in a wet t-shirt for some reason.  She has five houses now, "one for every coast", she says.  Each home has a deck where the paparazzi can photograph her in a bikini.  In most of the photos, she's giving them the finger.  Apparently she's gone through a second puberty, because her breasts are inexplicably larger and when people question her about the rather sudden change, she says, "I like my curves!  I don't know why people can't just accept my womanly figure!"  The only hair anywhere on her body is interweaved with the hair from 12-year-old Guatemalan girls.

5.  Artist - She wants to take a break from "the singing thing" and get back to her first love, acting.  She's been acting since she was five years old, doing little skits for her parents.  Believe me, that more than qualifies her for being in a romantic comedy, "The Great Girl Power Conspiracy", where we see her in boy shorts and a see-through white t-shirt.  The director tells her that because of the way the light is "bouncing wrong" off of the t-shirt, it's probably best if she takes it off.  She insists that it's not "vital to the plot" that she take off the shirt.  In the corner, a movie executive coughs.  In the unedited "Director's Cut" on DVD, we see nipple for 3 seconds.  Two weeks after the film's release (at #15), she's overheard while having drinks at Club Haze, telling her friends that she's glad she has kept her integrity.  As she leaves, the wind from the revolving door to the restaurant catches her wrong, and it becomes quite apparent that she's  wearing no underwear of any kind.  Eight minutes later, her vagina is on YouTube.

5.  Crackhead/Criminal - The record company has stated that she still owes them an album.  She releases a "Greatest Hits Collection" to get them off her back, but that's basically three songs, plus acoustic versions of those three songs and five dance remixes of those same three songs.  When the paparazzi outside of Bounch nightclub ask what the powder on her nose is, she wipes it quickly saying it's salt from a margarita.  She punches one of the cameramen "accidentally".  The matter is settled out of court.  She is overheard calling her current boyfriend by her first boyfriend's name during a photo shoot for Pussy Magazine (the magazine for empowered women).  The next day, he's charged with assault.  That night, she's seen vomiting in the women's restroom at Creme Brulee and friends fear that she's bulimic.  A record exec in the corner hands her some pills. A new album is in the works.

6.  Rehab Redemption - Just as the new album is about to be released, she enters rehab.  The record company wishes her well and says they're confident that this "time away" will get her refreshed for the upcoming tour to support the album.  She gets out of rehab early and is seen drinking in the Fabulouso Hotel bar with "Narf".  Two weeks later she drives through the back of her garage and breaks both wrists.  She enters rehab and this time it appears to take.  The album comes out (after some last minute remixing) and it gets rave reviews.  It generates three hit records and she tours for two years with her mom on the tourbus. 

7.  Sad - Three years later, her breasts do not inspire anyone anymore.  Occasionally, someone will take her picture unexpectedly, but it's never for a magazine.  Five years after that, she releases an acoustic guitar-heavy album that "gets back to her first love, music", even though she's never played acoustic guitar on any of her albums.  She has a six year engagement to an actor 10 years her junior named Frankie.  He's got mommy issues.  She has so much Botox, that if you snuck up and set off a garbage can full of firecrackers behind her, she couldn't generate a surprised expression.  You and your friends see her do a set at a local club and you're pretty excited until she starts singing.  Someone says, "Aww, bless her heart".  A record exec in the corner breaks wind.

You Disappointed Me

Week two of this season of the Amazing Race begins with standard review of the prior week.  All the competitors looked so bright-eyed and hopeful, didn't they?  It's so easy to forget how much we truly hate the ones we love, until we're forced to spend extended periods of time in a car looking for the Haggerllegecc town square in the middle of Leprechaun Rape, Ireland.

All the competitors are raving about how surprised they are with great effort from the Goths (Team Aynnoyyingg).  They're not mentally retarded, people, they just dye their hair.   And they're mentally retarded.  The point is, you can never underestimate freaks.  Of course, it's only a matter of time before they're forced to withdraw due to a bad case of The Blahs.  Goths in general are suffering from The Blahs at a horrifying rate.  I blame the war and Robert Smith eating the rest of the Cure.

God, Chris totally creeps me out with her Daddy issues.  Someone get her a Hello Kitty to cuddle.

Beaker M and Beaker F are the first to depart.  They bring nothing exciting to this race.  There is some speculation that they are a tad closer than a brother and sister should be.    I guess that could be fun to watch.  Like if they get a little too excited after a victory and celebrate with tongue.  Could be awkward for Phil. 

Everyone's heading to Amsterdam! 

The Dirty Hippie just said that his relationship with Rachel is 90% more important than the Amazing Race.  That's a man who does not have his priorities straight. 

Nate says, "We're getting along now, but just wait until we hit a wrong turn."  By which he means  Jen will be tasting blood.  Domestic violence is not funny.  Except when it is.

Team Cumdumpster says that "it's creepy driving at night".   Probably because they're used to having their feet in the air and not the gas pedal.  Shani is quite disturbed that none of the pit stops have been at a hair and nail salon.  "Clearly I haven't had a manicure or facial".  Pull over, I'll give you a facial.

Daddy is already upset at his greatest disappointment in life, his daughter.  She forgot her fanny pack and he's about to have a stroke.  Of course she shouts, "Sorry Daddy!!"  I've got vomit stuck in my molars. 

How much do I love Team Gay Jesus!?!?  Pat said, "We have no illusions that God even cares if win the Amazing Race".  Why is it always the gay clergy that has their head on straight?

Team Greatest Generation has gotten a flat tire right out of the gate.  Haven't even made it to the airport yet.  Of course, Grandpa is in control of the flat tire situation.  He'll jack the car up with his genitals if necessary.

"Kynt runs around like he's on speed".  Gee, that could be because HE IS.

It's becoming fairly clear why Chris has her daddy issues.  He's not the most pleasant person in the world.

FLIGHT DRAMA! The Daddy is going to get in a shoving match with the grandson from Team GG. It's always good to shove someone while explaining that he needs calm down.  Really gets the point across.  Baby, why do you make me hit you?

Man, the Dirty Hippie cannot WAIT to get to Amsterdam.  Like sending a whore to Dicktown.

Man, Pat from Team Gay Jesus is a cancer survivor?  How can you not love this team??!

AAGGHH!!!  Team Motorboat (hooooottt Latinas) are in last!!!  THEY ARE TOO HOT TO LOSE!!  This is why people stop believing in God.  They sure as hell better catch up or I will have to start a letter writing campaign.

Yes, that WHO'S YOUR DADDY SHIRT? is beyond creepy. What does that even MEAN in this context?

What is with Kuunts voice?  It's like an effeminate soprano helium balloon.  Only more annoying.

I wish there was some kind of state fair where one of the booths was chance to punch this Daddy in the face. 

There's Aer Lingus again.  THAT'S  MY JOKE SCOTT ADAMS, YOU HACK!!  You can expect to hear from my imaginary lawyers!!

Team Boring is the first to the train in Amsterdam.  They can read a map, which puts them light years ahead of most of these handjobs. 

Challenge:  Furniture Moving.  Up the side of a building with hand tied ropes. Or...search through hundreds of bikes in a parking garage to find the pair that match your card.

Vyxsin from Team Aynnoyyingg just said that she would tie the ropes off because she used to macramé and knows knots.  Okay, so now I like her.  He's still a complete tool.

Mmmm, Lorena is hot when she's cheering on her teammate.  Baby, if you need a man to commit to you, I think I could for a night.

One of the blondes from Team Cumdumpster firmly stated, "My arm muscles are one of the strongest parts of my body".   I bet they take second place to your jaw muscles.

The Dirty Hippie just showed up in Amsterdam.  Now that I look closer, his girlfriend is also a dirty hippie.  Man, you can tell that he needs to try to score before the challenge.   He's asking one of the movers if he's "Holden Caufield".  Wink, wink.

Dirty Hippie is snapping at my Boo - "I have no idea what you're saying!!"  He totally can't figure out the ropes, man.  Ironically, he can't figure out how to tie off.

Jen has had enough of Nate's incompetence as a man.   She's got such a sunny personality, it's hard to believe he cheated.   "Nate for the life of him cannot tie a knot," Jen says confidentially to the camera.  Except to tie up his whores, one imagines.

About half the teams have finished the challenge and are waiting for the same bus.  Oops, the Goths missed the bus. Team Boring went from first to fifth because they looked for the bikes instead of doing the movers challenge.

Wow, the Hippies are really bad movers.  Dirty Hippie is totally harshing.  Can a brother just score some righteous bud!?!?  Delicious Hippie Rachel CAN tie a knot, as her brains aren't on drugs. She passes the challenge for them.

Roadblock:  A Norwegian "sport" called Ditch Vaulting.  Or Dutch Vaulting.  Really, does it matter?  The point is to cross a (let's call it) fjord in a single vault from side to side.

The one blonde from Team Cumdumpster does NOT want to break a nail.

Oh my god, my wife is laughing her ass off because Jen from Team 273.5a crashed hard in the ditch.  She seriously can't get her breath.  It's fun to see beautiful people fail.   Especially whores.  The cherry on top was the dutch judge shouting "NO GOOD!" when she ate it.   Awesome.  I bet Nate is going to be very supportive and patient though.  Oops, I guess not.

Durgerdam is the pit stop. I'm pretty that name is made up.

Jen is a gracious competitor: "That freaking little bitch did it!"

Team Fingerbang are team #1.  As a reward, they win bikes.  I'm sure they didn't want an exotic trip somewhere.  Sure, a bike.  Nice.

Man, Team Motorboat is too cute.  One even just used a British accent, which you know I think is wicked hot, yeah? 

Team 273.5a is second and will live to strangle each other another day. Team Cumdumpster is in third.

Jeus, the daddy is SO ANNOYING. The daughter says she just wants them to "stay positive".   His response, "Don't give me this crap about positive vibes getting you through".  He's obviously an expert on staying positive, so she should shut her whore mouth.

Team Gay Jesus continues to enjoy schadenfreude.

Marianna: "Mr. Miyagi runs like the wind, so we have to hurry".  Everyone is learning to hate Daddy.

Revelation from Kuunt: "I'm not one of those get down and dirty kind of boys, I'm kind of prissy".  I will alert CNN to this breaking story. 

Beaker F is covered tits to toes in mud on her first try across the fjord.  Amazing Race has a long history of making people muddy and miserable.  Kudos on continuing the streak.

Kuunt is not really an athlete, per se.

Oh lord, Grandpa is going to ditch jump.  Ominously, the grandson states, "That may be a decision that's going to cost us." YA THINK!??!

Daddy is worrying about their team "vacillating".  "I let you loose on this thing and you disappointed me."  This guy is quite the charmer, isn't he? 

Kuunt made it across!  Finally!  Now I kind of want them to do good, because I think I have a small crush on Vyxsin. 

Grandpa is not so much with the ditch vault.  It's really a younger man's sport. OH DEAR GOD!!  GRANDPA IS STRIPPING!!!  He's too covered in mud to jump, so he has to shed clothing.  An official "No Comment" from the grandson. You go into the race hoping for lifelong memories and you come out seeing your grandpa naked.  You need to win the million dollars just to pay for the therapy.  THAT'S WHY THE AMAZING RACE HAS THE WORD AMAZING RIGHT IN THE TITLE, PEOPLE!!

Oh christ on a cracker, Team Goth just finished and Kuunt totally missed a high five with Vyxsin and nearly slapped a bitch.  Little known fact:  Consistently missing high fives is one of the top three reasons why people become Goth. The other two reasons: Attention-starved and Gay. 

Grandpa is now in his underwear, jumping.  Still hasn't made it over the fjord.  The grandson: "That one had promise".  It didn't.

Okay!  The Grandpa finally made it across.  The grandson said, "He made it, showing that frustration and anger pays off in the end".  AMEN, BROTHER.  I've been telling people that for years.

Marianna from Team Motorboat said that she loves track and field and Pole Vault was her main field event.  Ooooh, yeahhhh, I'll bet it was. Who's a naughty girl? 

So much drama from Team Daddy.  I can't even get into it; I'm drained.  Let's just say they should break up and change their phone numbers.

Damn, damn, DAMN!  Team Gay Jesus are officially in last place and have been eliminated.   Man, I love them to death.  So sweet. All reality shows should end with older lesbian clergy kissing.  That'd show the terrorists.

OH.  MY.  BALLS.  The previews for next week show Lorena having the kind of complete break from sanity for which the Amazing Race has become famous.   I am already predicting, based on the previews alone, that she will be giving us this season's catch phrase, "BABY, THERE'S NO MORE MILK!!"  As she's trying to milk a camel. 

Caitlin, if you're reading this (which you aren't), please start making the t-shirts.

Seriously people, call your friends, duct-tape your grandma to the chair, next week's episode is a can't-miss.  DON'T MAKE ME TELL YOU AGAIN!!

Just Posting This Could KILL ME

Every year about this time, I break out a couple of long, tube-shaped floor space heaters to pick up the slack when the furnace gets tired.  I leave these heaters on almost full time, in defiance of their affect of Mother Earth, because I honestly could not care less what happens to the Earth in the next 50 years.  I DO, however, care very much about my ice cube toes. 

I have grown suspicious of the heaters over time.  I'm not entirely sure they're properly grounded.  I ASSUME they are, because they're on the ground, but I admit I'm not totally clear on the concept.  The thing is, when they're on, I collect an obscene amount of static electricity.  I become a walking Tesla coil.  I'm fucking Peter Petrelli, without the oiled chest.

This becomes slightly inconvenient when every time I sit at one of the four computers that are surrounding the heaters, one billion volts of electricity pass through me and the streetlight outside dims.  It's probably not very safe, but what am I gonna do, unplug the heaters?  They're WAY OVER THERE.  I've just chosen to wear a mouth guard and try not to shit my pants.  It's a life. 

Hell, you're not even listening anymore - you've got Peter Petrelli on the brain, you filthy bastard.

Just Because I Leave Doesn't Mean I Don't Love You

I've taken time away to perform some critical self-examination of my inner self.  From time to time, one has to do this in order to maintain sanity.  My spirit guide has pulled much from my fragile psyche – deep and painful memories and undeniable truths.  Though the scope of this analysis would take volumes to describe, it can adequately be summarized fairly simply.

All that makes me whole in the world, in order of importance, is the following:

1.    The Amazing Race
2.    Penis (my own)
3.    M&Ms (peanut)
4.    Natalie Portman
5.    Occasional blurry, sasquatch-photography styled glimpses of my wife's boobs

With that in mind, I shall attempt to provide the world with a detailed play-by-play of every episode of the Amazing Race this season.  One would assume that it will serve as the chronicle of record for future generations.  It should be noted that I will be eating M&Ms while typing this.  And also, I am not wearing pants.  None of this should shock regular readers.  As if those exist.

To the Show!!

Let us begin the season with the official Amazing Race Prayer, which I may or may not be making up this very second.

Dear Lord God Phil
Please let Thine Most Divine Majesty
Light the Way for Our Noble Racers
And
As Often As Possible
Cause The Souls of the Wayward and Troubled Travelers
To Turn Black as a Coal Miner's Colon

May Fathers continue to ignore their Daddy-Obsessed Daughters
May Homosexual Life Partners Make Seemingly Innocent Reference To "How Thick The Bush is in South Africa"
May an Estranged Girlfriend Shriek Incoherently
As her Boyfriend Calmly Explains what a Stupid Whore He Believes Her to Be
And Please, Oh Vengeful and Glorious Lord,
Let There Be an Ox.

In Phil's Name we Pray:

Oh My God, I Hate You 

Amen.

We begin in LA, home to all that is righteous and pure.  As in the Divine Comedy, we must take the journey through Hell, beginning here.

Starting at the Playboy mansion.  Classy touch CBS. 

A quick review of the teams:

Kynt and Vyxsin - Goth lovers, as if you couldn't tell by the clever spelling of their names.  Let's hope that in some country in which they are traveling, they are prized for their pelts and shot.  Henceforth known as Kuunt and Suxsyn - Team Aynnoyingg.

Jennifer and Nathan – This boyfriend/girlfriend team shows the most promise for real physical violence.  If you wish hard enough, MAGIC CAN HAPPEN.  He cheated on her, but I'm pretty sure he just slipped on a bad patch of ice and landed in some other woman's vagina.  Totally not his fault and she is right to take him back.  To be called Jen and Nate - Team 273.5a.

Ronald and Christina – Father/Daughter team.  Obligatory daddy-obsessed daughter, this time with Asian spice.  After a certain age, women should not refer to their father as "Daddy" and that age is 12.  An exception can be made if the daughter is really drunk and trying to stay out of rehab.  To be referred to as Ron and Chris - Team Daddy.      

Shana & Jennifer – Even more obligatory Hot Blonde Friends Who Aren't that Hot.  The Amazing Race loves to put marginally hot, bottle-blondes on every season, because this show is seen around the world and we BY GOD have stereotypes to live up to.  Will be called Team Cumdumpster, Shani and Jenni.

Azaria & Hendekea - Brother/Sister team.  They are scientists working in the field of figuring out which one is which. What happened to people named Stan and Betty?  I cannot be bothered to type their whole name each time, especially since there is no way of knowing which name goes with which person.  They will be called Team Science - Beaker M (male) and Beaker F (female).  That can't be how you spell beaker, is it?  YOU SEE HOW THIS KIND OF THING SNOWBALLS!?! 

Lorena and Jason – Jason's a bit of a commitment-phobe, in the sense that he would like very much to continue putting it in Lorena, as long as she doesn't talk.  Because it's tricky to put that into actual vows, there is no wedding date set.  Lorena is a crier, I'm calling it right now.  Let's call them Team Fingerbang, Jason and Lorena.  In his high school yearbook, he was voted Most Likely to Be Two Knuckles Deep.

Nicolas & Donald - Grandson/Grandfather.  Donald is essentially being described as an outspoken elderly gentleman, which is code for Racist Coot.  Nicolas is the guy you bring home to your parents, even though you're banging his best friend.  This is true if you're gay or straight.   Nicky and Donny are Team Greatest Generation or Team GG.

Ari & Staella - "Best Friends" and co-workers.  Ari is our resident sassy gay this year. Sorry to out you Ari, but the headband is a bit of a giveaway.  Staella works with him.  My hope is that, in a shocking mid-season twist, Staella turns out to be a man, because it's a MAJOR Amazing Race faux-pas to not have a team of two volcanically gay men.  Team Queen will be Ari and Stella (spell it like everyone else, jackass).

Marianna & Julia - Sisters.  OhmyGODhot Laaateenas.  I can't tell, but based just on cultural stereotypes, I am going to assume they are spicy.   I have nothing bad to say about these two.  Let's hope that AR producers took my suggestion for more topless challenges under advisement.  Mari and Jules are Team Motorboat.  They know why.

Rachel & TK - Couple who have been dating for almost one year.   TK is a dirty hippie and Rachel is delicious.  TK and Rachel are an odd couple, kind of like Bert and Ernie, except for I REALLY want to have sex with Ernie.  I'm not a huge fan of dudes going by initials.  OJ has proven that they usually end up gutting you like a carp.  Something to think about Rachel.  Call me, we can talk it out.  Ernie and DH (Dirty Hippie) are Team Muppet.

Kate & Pat - Gay Clergy.  OKAY!  Now we're talking turkey, people.  You've gotta love lesbians who say, "I'm out of the closet and I'm Jesus-Approved!".  Let's hope these two can take time away from "blessing the chalice" long enough to win a few stages.  You know what I'm saying.  C'moooooonnnnn.  Am I Right?  Alice and Pat will be Team Gay Jesus.  Mostly because you know I'll get Google search links from THAT.

Now, back to the race.

There is something within me that wants to like the Goths, but they're such posers.  The part of me that wants to hate them is just too strong.  I'm really going through the exact opposite situation that Anakin Skywalker went through.  He didn't want to love the Goth Sith, but couldn't help himself.  They had the sassier uniforms. 

Oh Jesus, they just said that the Goth lifestyle is a celebration of Beauty and Art.  PUH-LEAAAZE.  It's a celebration of your desperate attempt to get attention, uglore.  "We're like Real Life Comic Book characters!"  Yeah, except that people like comic book characters.

Ohhh, Jen has "trust issues" with Nate just because he cheated on her.  Well, at least you put your foot down, Jen, and firmly told him that you won't put up with it more than one or two dozen more times.  For his part, Nate says it was the biggest mistake of his life.  One assumes he means the getting caught part and not the sex part.

They actually have the black brother/sister team looking at beakers in their intro.  I think I need to change their name to Team Boring.

Lorena from Team Fingerbang has been waiting three years to get married to Jason.  Keep waiting Lorena, I'm sure he's about to crack.

I just love the term "Gay Clergy".  I'm guessing that my grandma is sitting at home thinking, "Oh, that's nice that they have happy clergy on the show."  They have declared they will be devious to win if necessary, saying they are "Not wimps for Jesus".  AMEN SISTAS!

Flaming gay dude Ari just said that in order to win, he will backstab you.   I don't think that was in doubt.

Team Cumdumpster just said that they will use their bodies however they need to to win.  The shocking revelations continue.

DH is a dirty hippie.  I'm pretty sure Ernie is eyeballing me.

The race consists of 11 legs, for those of you new to the process.  As always, three legs (known only to producers) will be non-elimination.  God, I do love this show. 

I love Phil.

GO!

First stop, everyone has to get a flight to Shannon, Ireland. 

They JUST STARTED and already Chris said, "Alright Daddy!  This is it!"  Ugh.  Creepy.

I really think that Ari might be gay.

Team Motorboat just said they are "loud and verbal".  The mind boggles.

OH GOD, WHICH WAY TO GO TO THE AIRPORT!!?

I would never stereotype Asian drivers, but Team Daddy can't drive.  And can she sit any straighter?  Who drives like that?!??  One senses she doesn't ever want to slouch or she may bring eternal shame upon her father.

Team Boring's Beaker M just sighed and said "...women and directions" after his sister got them lost on the FIRST TURN of the whole game.  I'm sure he'll jury rig up a GPS out of toothpicks and Juicy Fruit.  But boringly so.

AHH!! HURRY AND CATCH THE FLIGHT!! SEATS ARE LIMITED!!  As ALWAYS.

Aer Lingus is best named airline in the world. God willing, they'll team up with Cunard Ocean Liners for a full-service Cunard-Lingus travel package.  And yes, I am copy-writing that joke as we speak.

Team Boring and Team Daddy have aligned to form the most boring and sad alliance ever.  SOMEBODY SLAP SOMEONE!!

DELAYED FLIGHTS!  AMAZING RACE STANDARD!!

Everyone's in Ireland.  They've all got to catch a ferry.  Or maybe it's a faerie.  It's fairly unclear right now. 

SHUT UP YOU DIRTY HIPPIE!! GET A HAIRCUT!!

It's warming to see that Team Gay Jesus enjoy schadenfreude.

Ugh, one of the whores just said that "the Amazing race is a love letter to the planet".  NO, IT ISN'T!!  The Amazing Race is the brutal display of man's delicious inhumanity to man.   Fuck the planet, officially.

The goth team just referred to themselves as little goth Energizer bunnies.  That works for me; I hate the Energizer bunny too.  My hatred just keeps going and going and going...

PRAISE BE TO THE MIGHTY AND GLORIOUS AMAZING RACE.  It has begun.  Nate from Team 273.5a just turned around and yelled at Jen, "OH MY GOD, I CAN'T STAND THIS!  YOU ARE THE WORST PERSON I'VE EVER MET AT THIS!!"  Not even a day in and we can start taking odds.  I'm laying the over/under on 4 episodes before she is tasting the back of his hand.   He just said, "I can't carry your bag the whole way! The other women aren't having any problems!"  She stormed off, "Don't compare me to other girls!!"  Rock solid foundation, built on love, people.

Nathan "loves her so much (baby)".  This race is "the hardest thing she's ever had to do".  After one day, most of which was on an airplane. 

Over a hill now to the next challen...GRANDPA'S DOWN!! REPEAT! GRANDPA'S DOWN!! CHECK FOR SNIPERS!!!

Oh wait, he's up.

Team Cumdumpster are over this damn race.  They just need to hug each other.  For a long time.  Slowly.

The next challenge is "riding a tandem bike up a muddy trail". I did that once in college.  It was an experimental time and this one girl at a bar asked if I wanted to "ride the tandem bike up a muddy trail".  I was young.  It was the 90s.

Emotions are "uncontrollable" all of the sudden.  Lorena is a friggin' WRECK.  Oop, her head just expoded.

Lorena is worried Team Fingerbang aren't communicating.  Which they aren't because she's a whiny whore.

That Dirty Hippie is high RIGHT NOW.  GET A JOB!

Ooooo - the chain broke on the Goths' bike.  Now they have to push it.  Push it real good.

ROAD BLOCK – High wire bike.  They have to ride a specially rigged bicycle across a wire while the teammate hangs below them, over a gorge.  I'm not doing the description justice.  It's making my palms sweaty just watching.  I'm not a big "heights" person.  No, thank you.  My ass is at clench factor 50.

Goth Chick will not look down.  Goths don't look down.  That's just what "The Man" wants.

One of the idiots from Team Cumdumpster just said, "let's not harp on things".  IN IRELAND.  Harp.  Ireland.  You can't script this stuff, people.

DH is in first place.  He thinks he's actually flying.  Whoa, man, this is totally cosmic. 

Onto a challenge with donkeys and peat.  That's a smell combo that Tide isn't going to get out anytime soon.  At least we've fulfilled our livestock quotient for this week.

Nate and Jen really are in love.  No wait, I mean the opposite of that.

Donkey just took out a fence.  Awesome.  RUNAWAY DONKEY!!

Nate and Jen's donkey will destroy them both.  It just won't move.  "I don't know what's wrong with him..."  Unsure if Jen is talking about the donkey or Nate.

Nathan's about to cry.  He says this is the most miserable thing that he's done in his life.  Not loving the donkey situation, these two.

HOLY SHIT!! The pit stop for this leg of the race is where I stayed when we were in Ireland!  IT'S LIKE I WON THE AMAZING RACE!!  Only not.

The Dirty Hippie is not so much with the directions.

Donkey will cost Nate the race.

Team Boring wins this leg of the race.  They throw their pocket protectors up carefully in joy.  And for being first, they win a trip to Canada.  Perfect!  If there's one thing I know about black people, it's that they love a good Canadian vacation.

Team Daddy have this episode's Very Special Moment:  They are both so worried about letting each other down and the daughter says, "You never disappoint me" to daddy.  He said, "Thank you. What was your name again?"  KIDDING!

Oh god, now the dad is getting weepy.  Says he didn't want to disappoint her.  Everyone hug and shut the hell up already.

Ari is going to kill his donkey.  And that's not even a euphemism for anything.

Nate and Jen FINALLY get their donkey moving and slip in at #10 out of 11 teams.  Thank Christ.  I need these two in the race. 

Ari and Stella are last.  So much for the sassy gay.  Stella says that this time on the race has "brought them closer, if that's even possible".  Well, yes Stella, it would be possible if you had a cock.  You are a terrible hag.  TERRIBLE!

Okay!  That's it for the AR Season Premiere!!  If I haven't ruined my fingers from typing this 3,000 page summary, I may even write about OTHER stuff this week.  I know you're thrilled.

Unclean. UNCLEAN!!

In college, cleanliness is a relative term. Physically, I mean. 

Say, in a totally hypothetical example, that someone were to toss you a slice of pizza from across the room on a Sunday morning, because your body is physically incapable of generating foodstuffs on its own and is also incapable of moving the two and a half feet to the pizza box. 

And say, again hypothetically, that the aforementioned pizza were to overshoot your location and land on the floor nearby. Then say, for example, that within the last 24 hours someone else’s balls had been very near the exact spot on the floor where the pizza has landed (for reasons that I will not hypothetically go into here). Or, if you’re making your own example at home, they could hypothetically have been your own balls. 

Point is, in college, the mind does an excellent job of blocking out the hypothetical facts of nearly any given hypothetical real situation. 

And so, you slowly reach for the balls-adjacent slice and lightly brush it off before shoving it whole into your mouth. Then the orgasming can begin. Such is the importance of a higher education.

The concept of clean and unclean is rarely even considered during those formative years. Take showering, for instance. The idea that, at any point, one would need to clean one’s washcloth and towel seemed preposterous. Washcloth even has the word “wash” right there in it, if you look closely. Your washcloth and towel are constantly getting wet and are often in the same room as soap particles. A bathroom is basically a washing machine at a macro level, right? Sure it is.

The fact that I even used a washcloth should represent how advanced I was compared to the rest of the unwashed masses. An alumni once saw me pick up my washcloth and let out a disgusted UUUUuurrgggghhh sound. The washcloth tended to dry out and hold the form of whatever it had landed on when I was done with it.

“How can you use that to wash yourself? That’s disgusting!” he’d naively yelped.

“It’s just really dry in this house,” I remember justifying, “and besides, have you seen the shower downstairs? This washcloth is the least of my worries.”

It was true. One wall of the shower I used throughout most of my collegiate career was made of stacked stone that had been painted with some kind of mold-compliant whitewash. The perfect storm of filth and damp worked their magic in time and spots of black fungus began to form. Cute little furry Tribbles of fungus at first, there to watch the naked parade. Over time, however, the mold got mixed up in some nasty business with the local toughs and soon the entire wall was a black hole of yeast. It was downright awkward to shower in there, the wall looking at you, trying to sell you crank. It wasn’t so bad that anyone who showered there felt any sort of compulsion to actually clean the wall, but it was quite unsettling nonetheless.

Interesting side effect to the tolerance of the muck, however. With the questionably edible food and the black fungus shower and drinking whatever anyone put in a glass in front of you and putting your penis into whatever vagina someone put in front of you, one begins to feel relatively invincible against the common germ. 

Colds and flus and pneumonias would routinely walk up and slap me hard in the face with a white glove. I would simply laugh and point to the shower wall, which would then whisper, “Yo, influennnnzaaahhh, I’m holding, baby. You want jus' a little taste, maybe?”

I continue to harbor residual smugness in the battle with germs.  But germs, they have a way of getting back at you.  Ways that make you pray for death.  Which is the exact situation I found myself at 3:30 in the morning in the Heavenly Bed of my hotel room. 

Next: Part Two – This Flounder Is Delicious!

Teenage Girls, For One

There is a very long list of people that would benefit from a nice, solid, movie-style backhand across the goddamn skull.  One of those shots that starts with your feet planted firmly side by side, your right hand down by your left hip as you bend your knees slightly when your body rotates to the left and then, in a blur of violence, you bring that hand up and across your body.  You'll know you did it right if you get up on your tippy-toes.  Also, your hand should sting deliciously.

Normally, I abhor violence, but this damned war and global warming has got my head in a fit. 

Two teenage white girls, walking out of Target the other day, most likely to daddy's S-Class.  I assume they're talking about Lindsay Lohan or mojitos or getting finger-banged by Dallas Thundercock, All-State QB.  As they walk past me, I see one of them point to a handicapped parking space and sigh, "Oh my God, look at the size of that handicapped joint, girl!"

I looked at her for a second, threw some gang signs and shouted, "That crippled space is OFF THE CHAIN, YO!"

And then I went up and cracked the bitch upside her head.

Okay, I only did that in my mind, but you tell me that there's a court in the world that would've convicted me. 

Perky breasts are proof of evolution, because without them, the teenage girl would've been killed off long ago.  Goddamned natural selection is crazy like that.

The 500th

I recently read that researchers have been performing a long-term study that has determined that teens are increasingly vain and self-centered.  I found this to be a shocking revelation.  I mean, obviously I’m extremely attractive, charming and sexually potent; that’s not vanity, that’s motherfucking fact.  God’s will. 

But these kids today are, on average, uglier than a pit bull’s asshole.  They have no right to vanity.  In praise of vanity, however, I have decided to engage in an awesomeness filibuster.  This is the 500th post on this blog and I thought it would be appropriate to provide a list of 500 Things You Should Know About Me by Now.  That’s right.  500.  It’s obviously a very condensed list of my awesomeness, but it should give you a flavor. 

I'll be posting it over a series of weeks, because HOLY SHIT is this a long list. 

1. God in Heaven, I am sexy.
2. And how about this hair?  Fantastic.
3. I’ve been married since 1995.
4. I got married on April Fool’s Day.
5. Marriage has never been difficult for me.
6. My wife is even more awesome than I am.  I know, it boggles the goddamned mind.
7. I turned 36 today.  For someone who has openly vowed to never grow up since about age 7, at 36 I’m feeling that I cannot escape adulthood.
8. #7 is maybe the saddest thing that has ever happened to me.
9. I was born in Iowa.
10. I was raised in Iowa; the first quarter century of my life was spent in my hometown.
11. The lasting affects of being born, raised, schooled, loved, hated and remembered in the same place for the first 25 years of my life are immeasurable.
12. My parents have been married for nearly 50 years.
13. Never having to deal with divorce and always having underlying love and laughter in my family has influenced me on a daily basis.
14. I have two siblings – a brother seven years my senior and a sister a year older than him. 
15. That means that my parents insist I wasn’t a mistake, but let’s face it, I wasn’t exactly planned.
16. My brother has always been one of my best friends.  My sister is fantastic too, but early family dynamics forced me to pick sides, so to speak.
17. My wife and I don’t plan on ever having children ourselves.  At this point, I’m not exactly sure why.  A million reasons, but only one that matters:  I really don’t think I want kids. 
18. I have come to this conclusion over the years, however: I am probably on the wrong side of the argument about whether or not to have kids.  I have no doubt that it’s more rewarding than I can possibly imagine.
19. Kids, for the most part, are annoying.  Beautiful and imaginative and amazing, yes.  But also sticky and stupid and hyper. 
20. I got glasses when I was a kid.  Sixth grade.  Right before I entered middle school. 
21. Nothing like strapping some dorky plastic to your face immediately prior to the most formative social period of your entire life.
22. When I was young, my neighborhood purchased semi tractors full of wood to split before winter.  It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.  Have I mentioned that Iowa is colder than an ice sculpture of balls being dipped in liquid nitrogen (best sculpture EVER, btw).  ANYWAY, during one of the wood chopping sessions, a wood chip flew into my eye and I had to go to the doctor to have it removed.  It wasn’t like a goddamned shard or anything, but I was so excited because I was really hoping that the doctor would tell me I’d need an eye patch for the rest of my life.  He didn’t.  I’ve never forgiven him.
23. I always, ALWAYS wanted to have glasses growing up.  Once I got them, I wanted nothing more than to be rid of them.
24. That said, when I first put on a pair of glasses, it was like the world was brand new.  I had no idea how vibrant colors could be.  I would love to have that feeling again.
25. I got contacts in high school, only slightly improving my social awkwardness.  If you consider constant spastic blinking to be an improvement of your social life.
26. Last year, I got Lasik surgery, making my eyes 20/15 - better than perfect!  I can outsee you.  Beat that.
27. Jesus, is he done talking about his goddamned eyes yet?  What the fuck?
28. Eat me, this list is 500 items long.  You try it, bitch.
29. Hey, here’s something:  I lost my virginity when I was 17.  Or maybe 16.  You can’t imagine how much of my life was consumed with the thought, idea, planning, effort and goal of losing my virginity and now I can’t remember how old I was.  Unbelievable.
30. I do, however, remember the details of losing it.  Back of a Chevy Cavalier hatchback, back seat laid flat, RodmotherfuckingStewart on the tape player. Beautiful, wonderful girl.  So kind and sweet.  Our story is on this site.  Check out the four part story here. 
31. As with most people and first loves, I occasionally wonder whatever happened to her.  But I’m also smart enough to know that my memory is better than the reality of who she may be now.  We’re almost always better off with a memory.
32. I like to write.  I like to think about writing.  I like EDITING what I write.  It’s mostly the laziness that I can’t get past.
33. As with most writers, I’ve come to the realization that my “novel” is much more successful wrapped up tightly in my brain than it is on a bookshelf in Barnes and Noble.
34. Of course, if my book was simply a series of 500 item long lists, it’s hard to imagine NOT getting a Pulitzer.  Seriously, have I asked what the fuck?
35. Did I mention the hair?  Yes?  Check.
36. I love photography.  I guess that’s pretty much a cliché now, yes?  EVERYBODY loves photography.  But no, really.  I do.  I loved it first.  I win.
37. Here’s something gay: I had this realization about, what, six or eight months ago?  I think I even said it out loud.  I’m an artist.  God, see, now it sounds pretentious and assholey.  Oh, you're an artist are you?  How about you blow it out your ass there, Colonel Smoking Jacket.  But it’s a real live thing.  And you don’t understand what it means to me, I guess.  Because that’s not how my life is, artistic.  I have a pretty non-creative job and…I crave this different kind of life.  There’s no good way to explain this.  Or not sound like I should be wearing a beret.
38. I’m not particularly good at sports.
39. I was a late bloomer.  Probably the reason for #38.  A cruel twist of fate, really, because I’m 6’1” and over 220 pounds now.  This body is now built for slamming against other large men.  In football, I mean.  Of course.
40. I was really good at Cub Scout softball.  Like, a team star.  They literally used to chant my name.  But I never even tried out for baseball.  I saw a kid get hit in the face with a fastball when I was like 8 or 9 and that pretty much ended my desire to play baseball forever. Also why I don't like blowing dudes, I bet.
41.  I also kind of peed my pants while standing at bat during Cub Scout softball one time.  Like, once I started going, I just totally went for it.  You don't suppose THAT'S why they were chanting my name, do you?  That's usually my Most Embarrassing Story when people ask.
42.  I really like watching sports.  And by "sports" I mean football, college basketball and live baseball.
43.  You know how soccer is the most popular sport on the planet and NASCAR is the fastest growing American sport?  Did you also know that George W. Bush was voted into the White House for two terms?  People cannot be trusted to determine what should be popular.  Case in point: Lindsay Lohan.
44.  People are stupid, is what I'm trying to tell you.
45.  Not sure if I mean you?  Thank you for proving my point.
46.  If forced to respond regarding the happiest day of my life, my thoughts drift to grape vodka and the purchase of my big screen television.  What's that?  Oh right, and my wedding.  Cough.
47.  I have clammy hands.  I haven't run across a lot of people that find this sexy.   But who are we kidding, this is the internet.  Clammyhandjobs.org has surely been snapped up since 1997.
48.  Comically speaking, .org is ALWAYS FUNNIER than .com.  Something to remember for you aspiring comics out there.
49.  Did I say 500?  I meant 50.
50.  So imagine this list times TEN.  You can't wait, right?  Oh dear, you've lapsed into a coma.  That's a shame.   

Lifetime

It doesn't matter, because it's just another day, just another moment in a string of moments, speeding by before you know to pay attention.  A formal observance of an intangible concept. 

Maybe when you feel it, it's across a room and it doesn't make sense.  You know, or you have a sense, but there's no way to confirm it.  Something's heavy in your limbs, a weight, and your mind wraps 'round.  You talk and you laugh and you're outside of yourself.  There's the feeling, and you're stuck with it forever. 

Embedded. Good and bad.

Time passes, maybe, and you think that's it, it's done.  It was only a day.  Or a week.  Or three months or ten years.  Suddenly you want so badly to let go of the hope or the pain of it.  But it never is done.   

It's a weight.  Good and bad.

It's too much then and it suffocates your mind.  Too heavy and too...it's enough.  Just stop the thought of it.  You can't let go of how it was forever and then it wasn't.  You deny it existed so that you don't have to deal with letting it go.

It crushes you.  Good and bad.

It comes around again and you ignore it.  It comes again and you don't trust it.  It screams at you and slaps you and you turn away.  It's safer.  It's easier.  It's lonelier.  You're stronger.

It has consumed you.  Good and bad.

But then.

It stops shouting. 

And you see it there again, across the room. 

Different this time.  A new face, a new memory.  A smile and then a laugh.

The rest was preamble to get you to here.    

The good.  The bad. 

Without it all, love is just the intangible concept.

When Rebellion Is Mainstream

(I was out of town on business last week.  Though I had every intention of writing, that intention was co-opted by sleep.)

When I was young and adorable and all parts of me were wrapped tightly in virginity, I was asked by a friend to attend a sleepover "lock-in" party at his church.  My parents approved, obviously, as God would be monitoring the situation.  Though my friend wasn't Catholic, as I was, he was of a brand of religion known to be even more restrictive and devout, which had the tempered orgasmic blessing of my parents. 

By restrictive, I mean that my friend wasn't allowed to get sexual education instruction at our school with the rest of the class.  He was made to sit quietly in the library while the rest of us sat stunned in front of a series of movies that made our pants tighten and our stomachs knot.  When he'd walk back in the room every day after our sex ed was complete, we'd all give him knowing glances even though we had no idea what the hell we just witnessed.  All we knew was that we sure as hell weren't getting within ten feet of a vagina.  Turns out, those things bleed, dude.  I'll stick to my Star Wars action figures, thankyouverymuch.

By devout, I mean that it was the goal of the flock of my friend's particular religion (and, I suppose, most religions) to spread their word like manure across the countryside.  That's not a knock against his religion, it's just that I'm from Iowa and we like to use manure in most of our analogies.

Anyway, there I was, sitting in a chair in front of two adult members of his congregation in the basement of a school or possibly a church or an abandoned mental institution or slaughterhouse (my memory is fuzzy on this point), and they were discussing the finer points of their God (who, I believe it was implied, could totally kick the ass of my God).  There seemed to be a distinct emphasis on this being the "locked-in" part of the evening.  We'd already been bowling and they'd fed us and given us plenty of sugary drinks.  But now, as payment for the bowling and food and drinks, I was going to by-god hear about some salvationing.  They read from the Bible and gave me my own copy of the entire Book of John (door prize!) and asked what I thought about the whole wacky God thing.  At some point during the conversation, I think I bought a timeshare in the Keys and agreed to finance an Ark of some kind (no money down!).

Point is, they had done a decent job at brainwashing me.  I literally drank the Kool-Aid.  I began to hang out with my friend more and when I went over to his house one day, we began to talk about music.  I knew that there were certain things to which he was not allowed to listen, but I didn't really understand why.

"So what can you listen to?  What do you have here in your collection?"

"I have some kind of country and western stuff, I guess you'd call it.  Cowboy stuff that my dad used to listen to.  Gene Autry.  It's good.  He sings about life and I can understand what he's saying."

"Yeah, but...like, what about more recent stuff?  Do you listen to the radio?"

"Not much.  Just a lot of wailing to me."

"But like, there's this new Prince record that's really cool.  From his movie?  Pretty much every song on it is a hit!  You should listen to it.  I can bring it over."

This is where the friendship took a decidedly negative turn.  Based upon how red his face got and how he began to stammer, you would've thought I just asked him to fellate me during recess the next day.

"Prince is..he's Satan in disguise.  His music...it has hidden backward lyrics and it turns people into children of Satan.  You shouldn't listen to it.  You'll go to...you'll...You're going to Hell."

And there it was.  Lost cause.

"Yeah.  But uh...I mean.  Have you listened to it?  Because it's really pretty good.  I don't think I'm into Satan now or whatever.  I mean, it's got a good beat, ya know?  When Dove's Cry?  It's good.  It's on the radio, so I don't think Satan is on it or whatever."

"Satan is very tricky.  Maybe you should go."

I could tell that he needed a very hot shower.  Or a bath in holy water.  Cleansing needed to be performed, that much was clear.

I was pretty confused, so I did what any decent young Christian person would do in order to get back on the path to righteousness.  I sprinted home on my bike and played Purple Rain backward on my parent's record player.  I couldn't really make out much, but it turns out that at the end of Darling Nikki, there are backmasked lyrics wherein he says, "Hello, how are you? I'm fine because I know that the lord is coming soon, coming, coming soon. Ha ha ha ha ha."  It's definitely freaky and undoubtedly the work of Satan.  Also the work of Satan?  That stuff that Nikki does with the magazine.  Satan is evil, but also extremely sexy.

The reason that this story has jumped to the top of mind recently is that it seems that my musical heroes have to die, reinvent/"sell out" or fade away.  I mean, come on, if you would've said that Prince would be playing halftime at the Super Bowl twenty years ago, there would've been rioting in the streets.  And the Red Hot Chili Peppers closing the Grammy awards?  Twenty years ago, they never would've gotten past security.  I can't fault them for shape-shifting to speak to a new generation (because Satan loves the shape-shifting), but it's all-of-the-sudden very bizarre to me.  Put more succinctly, I'm fucking old and I'm not happy about it.  Fat lot of good it did to devote my life to Satan when I listened to Purple Rain backwards.   I never even got my autographed "I (Heart) Satan" t-shirt.  Total gyp.

What's Missing In Most Movies, In Fact

Just got done watching the Netflixed Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Name That's So Long That You're Bored Before the Movie Even Starts, which, sidenote, left me underwhelmed.

The movie reviewer in me has the following critique:  This movie needed more swinging animal balls.

You watch and tell me that it wouldn't be improved by about 1000% with more balls.  And also a cat bath scene or two.

I hope Hollywood is reading.  It's not too late to sneak some balls onto the Transformers.