My Blog

Last Night: Part Two

Wed, 6 Sep 2006 21:05:10 -0700

I’m starting to understand that the fun of flying L.A. to Vegas is that the convenient flights are egalitarian: no business or first class. Which means Flavor Flav was sitting three rows in back of me. When he got on, the Southwest stewardess started giving it to him over the P.A. “We’ve got to find Flavor Flav a new love,” she yelled, to which Flav said, “Hwaakaaywaaahdoo.” This, however, didn’t stop her. Flav might be famous and crazy, but she had the mike. Halfway through the flight, I complimented her on her bit. Then she decided that we should go through the cabin and pick some single women and hold a little tryout for Flav at 30,000 feet. I told her this was a splendid idea. She went searching and came back empty, disappointed that so few young women were on a Vegas flight. I told her that Flav wasn’t picky and we should grab the old ladies. She considered, but then gave up. Even in the age of no liquids on board, Flav doesn’t check bags to Vegas.

Building A Better Heaven

Wed, 23 Aug 2006 10:48:04 -0700

Whenever I see heaven in pictures or movies, it looks, at best, nice. Pleasant, comforting, calm -- but it never makes me think, “I can’t wait to get there” like shots of a luxury hotel. Maybe clouds and really blue skies were enough for keep people in the 15th century in line, but heaven has to step it up a bit. They’re basically getting by because they only have to be better than hell. I think that’s setting the bar kind of low, Heaven.  I also hope that when you get into heaven they tell you how much you made it by. I’d like to be the guy who just barely made it and lord it over Mother Theresa the whole time. “Oh, you didn’t get wasted and have oral sex and we’re both here? Funny that.” I’m figuring I’ll need stuff like that to keep me occupied because heaven will be so boring.

Guy Smiley

Mon, 19 Jun 2006 09:49:41 -0700

I got a call from a casting director who wanted me to come in this afternoon and audition to host a show on the Game Show Network. This was greatly exciting. When I told my lovely wife Cassandra where I was off to, she got very excited and said, “You’d make a perfect game show host.” This was greatly upsetting. When your wife thinks you’re phony and plastic and so insincere that “you’d make a perfect game show host” and you’re not using that skill to cheat on her, you face a depressing self-realization. She spent the next ten minutes assuring me that she meant that there’s a cool, retro-70s, smoothness to me that could be used to create a new, ironic version of the game show host. I smiled broadly, kissed her on the cheek and gave her some Turtle Wax. The audition was taped in a boardroom with of two fake contestants who work for the game show network. I spent the majority of the 10 minutes making fun of them for being game show contestants, The rest of the time I made fun of the Game Show Network. I believe that, at some point, I told the female contestant that I was going to update the Richard Dawson thing and feel her up. This is not good hosting. I was so bad and uncomfortable that there’s no way any executive made it all the way through my audition tape. That will show Cassandra.

Last Night...

Mon, 12 Jun 2006 23:19:00 -0700

I took the noon Jet Blue flight from Burbank to JFK last night and I’ve got the window and no one is in the middle seat. Sweet. The guy in the aisle is a little younger than me, I don’t pay much attention. Then I notice he’s surrounded by what are obviously his bandmates. I’m pretty sure I’m sitting next to the Strokes. (The guy on the far left is the one I sat next to. And he was reading Shakespeare. For real. One of the comedies.). So I’m thinking: If The Strokes fly Jet Blue coach, what bands get to fly first class? The Strokes are obviously on official Stroke business -- they’re all together, they’ve got instruments in the overheads, there’s some British manager type with them. And they’re flying coach? Does this mean the Hives are shivering in baggage storage on a Southwest flight? Does Wilco have to bicycle to their gigs? As we start to descend, I notice that there are lots of really small children near us in the back, making lots of noise, as children on 5 1/2-hour cross-country flights do. But the second Stroke from the left yells toward the back of the plane, “Everybody keep quiet!” It kind of scares everyone, including me, but after two minutes, the kids realize the Stroke isn’t really that powerful if he’s in coach, so they start making more noise. So the second Stroke from the left yells at them again. This time it has no effect whatsoever. One of the kids starts yelling, “Blah, blah, blah!” just to taunt the coach-flying Stroke. When we land the second Stroke f

When We Made Love, She Used to What?

Wed, 3 May 2006 20:43:43 -0700

When I was a teenager, with a mullet, in Jersey, jamming to classic rock, I could never figure out why songs celebrated women who cried after making love. Why was this a good thing? How could this possibly enhance the experience? Was a good cry kind of like a cigarette? Were female orgasms somehow connected to the tear ducts? And if a woman ever really did cry after sex like they’re supposed to, how was I going to enjoy it instead of getting all freaked out and calling a lawyer right away? Now that I’m older, I’ve figured it out: rock stars are deranged egomaniacs. Stay away.