Change!

Penny for your thoughts?

So, one night, many moons ago, the ex and I took a bunch of ne'er-do-wells with us to the Rogue, South Scottsdale's premier dive dump. As Shelley used to say, "This dump smells like Tracy Gold's bathroom." We used to take our under age friends there for drinks and what have you. Anywho, one day we were leaving the bar and a homeless man approached us. I wish I could say that he was selling magazine subscriptions or at the very least girl scout cookies but, alas, he was asking for a handout. So, as we rushed to get into the car he asked if I could spare some change. My response was short and sweet, "Can you break a hundred?" Sounds fucked up, yes, but if he would have said he could then I would have done it.

Religious Networking with God In Your Alphabet Soup

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Buddhas In My Belfry

Last night, I couldn't get to sleep. It didn't help that there was a Law & Order: SVU marathon on USA. Damn that Mariska Hargitay and her crime fighting ability. So after deciding that enough was enough, I climbed into bed and stared off into darkness, like so many nights before, when I was suddenly surprised by an unexpected friend. I turn on the bedside lamp and I see a bat flying around. I must admit that I was a bit of a pussy about the situation and immediately threw the blanket over my head. I didn't want to get rabies. The only thing I needed was to start this year off by foaming at the mouth.

So, I continued to squirm under the covers thinking of how I was going to get this fat out of my room. I periodically peeked out to see where the damn thing was and to look for something that would help get it the hell away from me. Afraid that it were going to strike at any moment, I reached out and grabbed the first book I could on the bed stand. My plan was to use the book to hit the bat. I really didn't want rabies. As I got ready to lurch out from under the blanket, I saw that the book I was holding was The Lotus Still Blooms, a book about understanding Buddhist principles. Something told me that there was probably a lot of bad karmic retribution to be had if I killed this damn thing, especially with a Buddhist book.

Goodbye...

2010, you have been quite the year. 2008 wasn't the best. It was one of my worst years in recent memory accompanied by 2003. Then 2009 came along and everything felt like it was going to be a better time and it was and it did. I won't do 2010 the injustice of putting it in the same category as 2003 and 2008 but it was an awesome year filled tough realities. Needless to say, I am enjoying the brief moments I have to sit down and write and pet my cat and think.

With hours left in this year, I caught myself rushing around to Brooks Brothers for a bow tie and then to buy wine and couldn't help but notice that I was sweating. With December being a relatively cold month, I was surprised, pleasantly, that today has been such a warm and beautiful day, hence the sweat. I stopped to take a moment to sit with Audrey and scratch her head when I realized that with all my rushing around waiting for another day to come to an end that this cat was oblivious to the frenzy that humans are putting themselves through. There is something completely gratifying about that. I should be so lucky to have such simplicity at some point in my life.

So now, I sit here alone and await the dinner party that will be filled with couples and me, the only single. How's that for simplicity? I suppose I deserve that. I was told once that I shouldn't live my life feeling that I regret anything I have done. The actions I take govern how I see and feel. This, I feel to be true. I will say this about this year, that I do regret losing a great friend. So now the countdown begins and I have to make my new beginnings in a new house and zip code. Maybe I'll love 2011. I will have to wait and see.

Fuck You Sylvia Browne.

The Oracle of Delphi. Nostradamus. James Van Praagh. Rasputin. When the great psychic powers of the ages come to mind these are the ones that are typically thrown out there. And if you were to ask a certain Mr. Montel Williams, he would throw out the incomparable Sylvia. Sylvia Browne that is. She's the world's only psychic walrus that can chain smoke with acrylic nails glued to her flippers.

Will the real Sylvia Browne, please stand up?

Walter Mercado

Surpisingly has a penis.

The other day, I was Facebook stalking my friend Soraya and got to thinking of all the good times we used to have back in the day making fun of Sylvia Brown and Walter Mercado, a Univision astrologer known to most latinos that should know better. I can not for the life of me understand how the hell lunatics that look like Bruce Vilanch in drag and a Puerto Rican Liberace get into the mainstream like this? It may be safe to say that they both might be good at blow jobs. How else explain the television exec that let this happen? Because we all know that pie eating contest winners are known for their panache, their joie de vivre, not their psychic abilities. How else?

As a young tyke, I remember coming home in the summer time, after night swim (a.k.a. the summer babysitter) to find my mom watching the Montel Williams show. I was never that big of a fan of Montel. Something didn't seem quite right with him. Maybe it was his penchant for white women or maybe it was that eight ball look he was rocking. Couldn't quite get my finger on it. In any event, he couldn't hold a candle to my girl Ricki.

Once hosted a show entitled "Back Off! You're a Lesbian.."

With topics from "Black Men Who Prefer To Date White Women" (Montel) to "Cut All the Drama, You Ain't Nuthin But a Fat Hoochie Momma" or "Weave Wars II", who could resist. One of my all time favorite show titles though, has to be "Girl You Must Be Trippin'...You're Too Fat To Be Strippin'". And who could forget the doorbell? Every time you heard that doorbell ring on the Ricki Lake Show, you knew some shit was going to hit the fan. Go Ricki, Go Ricki!

I've seemed to have gotten off track. Anywho, back to Montel. I blame him for unleashing that beast onto the world. Apparently, Montel would do anything for white pussy, no matter how decrepit and dusty. Now here are some videos of Sylv at her finest.

Merry Christmas Claire Slover

Barf Slover using her landline in the rain

The Grinch Theme Song

You're a fat one, Mrs. Grinch.

You really like to squeal.

You're as cuddly as a cat's mess,

Your virginity, no one wanted to steal, Mrs. Grinch

You're a black banana with a greasy black peel.

You're a monster, Mrs. Grinch

Your butt is a big hole.

Your vagina's full of spiders,

You've got garlic in your soul, Mrs. Grinch.

I wouldn't touch you, with a black guy's nine-and-a-half inch pole.

You're a large one, Mrs. Grinch.

You can't even walk a mile.

You have all the tender sweetness

Of a crusty old pedophile, Mrs. Grinch.

Given the choice between the two of you I'd take the crusty old pedophile.

You're a foul one, Mrs. Grinch.

You're a nasty, wasty cunt.

Your cunt is full of unwashed cocks.

Your snizz is full of gunk, Mrs. Grinch.

The three words that best describe you, are, and I quote: "Stink. Stank. Cunt."

Christmas Pussy

Spread 'em Tommy!

Two thousand and ten years ago, a virgin and her husband hauled ass into Bethlehem to give birth to the king of jews, or so the story goes. Luckily for me the WE Channel's idea of holiday inception was to play the classic Big staring Tom Hanks and Elizabeth Perkins because nothing says christmas like two average white poeple. Everyone knows the story of Big. unless, you were born and raised under a rock before 1995. The movie is basically the tale of a 12 year old boy who wishes to be "big" and in turns becomes an adult who gets an executive position at a toy company and gets to do an older woman. It's sort of like the Mary Kay Letourneau story but more romantical and with a magical fortune telling machine and less statutory rape.

Tom Hanks' character Josh is likable enough for someone you want to put in a station wagon and drive into a lake. After his rat faced friend makes him feel bad for being awesome he goes and pusses out. Cue the sad music and send him around town, walking around aimlessly like a pedophile staring at all the kids about town wanting to recapture his lost youth. Waa waa. In that same lame boat is also Susan, played by Elizabeth Perkins. The only interesting aspect of her character other than her 80's fashion a la Designing Woman was her ability to fuck her way up the corporate ladder.

Style Stars

But, by far, the best character is Josh's butthole best friend Billy. He is one of the biggest pussies in all of movie history. right up there with any Pauly Shore character and Charlie from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. He also played the asshole little brother in Honey I Shrunk the Kids. For some reason, this little punk can't be happy that his ONE friend is an adult raking in the big bucks and wants to cry because he doesn't want to play walkie talkie with him. If there was ever a reason to advocate childhood physical abuse, it was that kid. It was like whoever green lighted the movies Frankenhooker and Cannibal Holocaust must have given him a break. Thank god that kid never went on to star in anything else other than a Wal-Mart surveillance video.

Being puked on helped him get off.