Two quotes that made me smile last night

"Jerry, it's Frank Costanza. Mr. Steinbrenner is here, George is dead. Call me back."

"Tippy-toes, tippy-toes!"

All caught up

I dedicated myself to catching up last night. I now know all there is to know about living in Laguna Beach. Two things stood out from last night's Valentine's Day distaster. LC is right, V-Day is ridiculous in theory and absurd.
Point 1 - As my wise Fi pointed out, Steven is pretty, like Rob Lowe pretty. The women don't think he's attractive but are drawn to his aura. Fuck that. He's an ass and he wears a thumb ring (everywhere, in regular clothes and at fancy dinners - you can't have it both ways. In fact, never wear a thumb ring you anus-licker). Did he learn nothing from 'Two Ninas,' don't try and juggle two girls dude, you're gonna get your nuts kicked.
Point 2 - If I were to ask Jessica to map out a 10 year plan she would write down, college, law degree, marriage, house on beach, kids. Her reality will be a bruised right eye from an abusive husband, a cock in her mouth and an ounce of coke in her hand. To all guys, if you need a cute girl to toss around and have has your very own toy, move to Laguna Beach now. Though Jason is an a-hole in essence, he was man enough to talk to her in person and admit his faults. I would like to have seen more of the phone argument since it appeared she embellished most of her end of the story.
I'm pumped to watch Steven's two-girl paradise crumble next week. LC's way better than him. Have you ever seen a kinder face than hers, a more nice-to-know-you kind of girl?

Conspiracy Theory?

After watching the VMA's last night, I have come to a conclusion. Well, two conclusions.

A) I am about 2 years away from being too old to watch MTV programming. I find myself blushing with embarrasment for the human race when Bow Wow (I missed the part when he dropped L'il) is trying to act tough and compare "Ice" with Paris Hilton. The coordinator of that little skit should be shot.

B) I feel very strongly that Notorious B.I.G. is in fact still alive. He has come out with more new crap in the last 10 years since he's been dead thanthe years preceeding his departure. Now I know what you're saying, "But Brandon, I saw him get popped with a cap." Maybe so, but remember Joe Dirt - you gotta keep on keepin' on. And that's what Biggy did...ready for this...as Missy Elliot. I'm not even joking...look at the proof:

Put a wig on that kid and drop 50 pounds (which she did) and you're a reborn rapper. It makes perfect sense people. Diddy (p-poppa-pop-a-diddy-pop) is behind the whole thing.

"How can I mess with the world while recouping millions of dollars? Got it, fake kill my best friend and make him come back as a woman and sell a shitload of records only to reveal my master plan years later and make a zillion more dollars! Where's Farnsworth Bentley at?"

Reunited

Steve,

I am going to see Joey Fatone on Saturday. Should be a good time. While I'm there, I'm going to check on Chris Kirkpatrick to see if he is in fact hanging out with the band...again.

The run-in...

What's the most awkward thing that could have happened to me last night at 10:30 pm at work minding my own business?
If you guessed running into my ex-girlfiend who I haven't seen in over a year then you are correct!
I couldn't think of a more awkward place or time to have had to make small chat. She said, "congrats." I said, "thanks." (cue the crickets). Luckily, I was looking sharp and having a great hair day, hopefully further irating her. Plus, I gained future upper-hand on random run-ins by acting busy and saying, "yeah, I gotta go."

Best Bulk Email of the Day

A new re-occuring feature at the Pit where I share with everyone the best piece of junk email I have received today...our first contestant is:

From: Lynn Fitzpatrick ---- Are You Pimped With a Rolex Watch?
Why no Lynn, I am not. But I am sure your informative email will tell me how to receive one for free should I choose to purchase $2,000 of your cleaning solvent which is probably vinegar and water. I appreciate the "exclusive" offer. You are much to kind and know exactly what I need.

I know it's hot out but come on...

I saw a man today wearing a headband. Not a decorative Indian kind, but one that would gather the perspiration from his hair as to not sting his eyes with sweat. It was white, braided terry cloth with a snug velcro strap. This gentleman was not running, nor was he a runner-type who would be running later. He was eating a danish at Panera at 10 am. He did not do jumpingjacks to Panera nor was he clothed to take a jog around the parking lot when he was finished with his meal. He was reading a paper.
When was the last time you saw a headband?
I feel fairly certain there are only three people who can wear headbands: Nelly, Rasheed Wallace and Boris Becker (I left off Richard Simmons since i'm fairly certain it is surgically attached to his head, thereby not qualifying under the term 'wearing' ).

Have You Seen This Man...

Niether have the local police.

Cop: License and registration please...Oh hey what's up, Doc?
DG: Not much man, just coming from my homeboy's house that is in no way a crack house and does NOT have any alcohol in the fridge.
Cop: Cool man, listen you kind of hit that mailbox back there and your eyes are as red as a cardinal...could you step out of the car for me?
DG: No problem man...how about an autograph first? I can't use my pen since I hollowed it out for a crack-pi...i mean it ran out of ink. Do you have one?
Cop: Hang on I have one in my cruiser.
DG: cool man
...and scene. this is the point when the former AL Cy Young Award winner decided he didn't have a famous face and could elude a squad of policemen that have arrested him 5 times.
If he shows up at my door though, I would let him crash on the couch.

Text me like you've never texted me before...

Consider this a public service announcement.
Remember the old days when there were 1-900 numbers and hookers and tiny motels that you could rent by the hour? Then remember chatrooms and the advent of internet porn and webcams? Those days are gone my friend and the revolution has begun. You can now pleasure yourself while "texting" with "hot, girls who need a friend."
For me, this brings up a myriad of questions, the most obvious - how? I'm thinking if your a phone sex operator at least you have a raspy voice and can appear hot, how am I to know that the 'texter' on the other side is not some 45-year-old guy who knows how to type clit. And furthermore, I happen to be a two-hand texter. How many of us out there can text with one hand while giving a little how's your father with the other?
New Phone-Text Codes:
-WAW (What are you wearing?)
-NTGAT (I need to get a tissue)
-MMJWI (My mom just walked in)

Dear MTV

Every morning I wake up and turn on Sportscenter. When i have sufficiently consumed my daily allotment of sports I turn to you. I need you to entertain me and prepare me for my day. I enjoy the Yin Yang Twins as much as the next guy, but 20 straight minutes of guys with platinum teeth and their ho's is no way to arise from a slumber. On top of that, a double dose of Gwen Stefani makes me want to rip my front teeth out. But I am here stuck watching you because i am half asleep and cannot find the goddamn remote. Do us alll a favor and play more Foghat. Where's O-Town?

Call me DipShit

Today was dress like a dipshit day. For those of you who are trapped in deep denial that this exists, this rather unceremonious day occurs about 2 or 3 times a year when you a) have not washed clothes in about 2-3 weeks or b) washed everything you own and cannot remember what your outfit order is. Choice B was circled today and DLAD-day occurred for me today.

I would rather be the President and have to make the choice whether to flip the switch to start nuclear war than to have the option to dress like a fool…or dress like a fool!

I’ve got some good backups, but nothing you would ever wear voluntarily. I had to make the decision, do I take the risk and humiliation involved with a possible re-wear of an outfit I had donned mere days ago or do I call in a reserve. I mean, I’m sure I could convince everyone that I was reversing my cycle, but that’s a lot of work and a lot of storytelling to keep track of.

Now, I have taken the risk before and have come out successful many times but today I couldn’t bring myself to make the attempt. I mean, let’s be honest, I have a family to think about and my street cred is running pretty low lately.

After three minutes of deliberation, the jury returned and I emerged from the closet looking like this:


Now I know what you’re thinking… “wow, what an a-hole!” But the shirt was from So Cal and the pants were from The Crap, so technically it could be so cool and you don’t even know it yet. Chances are I looked like a dipshit though. Here’s to remembering what you wore a week ago!

Killing Me Softly...

I went and saw The Killers last night. The venue was the USF Sun Dome which contrary to popular belief could be one of the ugliest arena's in America. Anyway, The Killer's rocked and yes Brandon Flowers is 99% gay, but it's still a cool sound and there's nothing wrong with that. I have just two messages for those in attendance:

1) There's no sitting at rock concerts. Apparently, the students at USF didn't get this memo. I condone sitting whenever possible and highly recommend it if you haven't tried before...but not at rock shows. I have paid a good bit of change (or gotten free tickets) to be entertained and that does not involve you - "two-tone blue t-shirt" staring at me like i've just taken the Lord's name in vain at a Baptism while you enjoy the comfort of a plastic seat.

2) To the girl in the brown top and the denim skirt dancing with the dillhole in the yellow polo shirt and flip-flops. Everyone in Section L knows that you wore neither a bra nor panties. Your dance moves were unoriginal yet deeply inspired by the tunes in the air. Should you need career advice, I can point you to several establishments just down the road that will throw in a pole for free. Although I'm sure you had a good time throwing up later that night as your druk-ass boyfriend attempted to get it up, I will always hold somewhat of a grudge towards you for distracting myself and my fellow seatmates for the majority of the show. And yes that was me laughing at you and him for falling to ground several times throughout the evening.

Jesus is Coming to Tropicana Field...

That's what was promised. I was there, he wasn't. Urban D was there though.
Urban, or D as I call him, is a one of the new-fangled Christian Rappers.
And we all know how much Christ loves Rap, i mean look at how quickly he consumed the lives of B.I.G. and Tupac. Heaven is a lot better with a beatbox. I think my favorite part of D's show was his cross-bearing henchman breakdancing in the visiting team's on-deck circle. "Throw your hands in the air, show Christ how much you care..."

Let the games begin...

The Peach Pit After Dark is officially open for business. With any luck Brian Austin Green will be joining us live very shortly...