Snowboarding Snowjob

I have a friend who has recently expressed an interest in snowboarding.

While I am excited that she is interested in expanding her interests and support her trying new experiences, I am regretful to inform her that this is an interest that I don’t feel I will ever be able to share with her. From past experience, I have learned that my particular body type is more aerodynamically designed for bouncing and rolling down mountainsides out of control than it is to rocket down them at the speed of light. Besides, I don’t exactly have a body that would ever appear flattering dressed in tight flashy ski pants.

My idea of winter sporting is more on par with sitting in a hot tub at some mountaintop Chalet and sipping a highball until I pass out in a delirious stupor - call it “Extreme Hot-tubbing” if you will. Apart from that, my idea of winter activity is to curl up on the couch with a heating blanket and watching M*A*S*H reruns until my eyeballs explode in their sockets.

I’m not much of a thrill seeker I’m afraid. Life moves fast enough for me as it is that I don’t feel the need to throw myself off the tops of mountains with only yard sticks strapped to my feet. If I ever needed to experience that kind of thrill in my life, I would simply pay somebody to shoot me between the eyes and just be over and done with it.

Why place innocent trees in harms way by risking having my stupid ass slamming into them at 200km/hr?

Death to Geraldo Rivera

I have a new pet peeve when it comes to the popular media. Move over Anderson Cooper, there’s a new Chief Dipshit in town.

If ever there was a complete tool bigger than Geraldo Rivera on television I haven’t see it - and I’ve seen some pretty big tools…umm, you know what I mean. I’m talking about those ghoulish news media devils - those who perpetuate the on-going cycle of fear - not some oiled down beefcake with a penis the size of a stuffed pork loin inside a purple banana hammock.

Suddenly Geraldo is everywhere again as you surf channels. He's the Dark Lord of Warpedness. Killer nurses, escaped serial killers, neighborhood pedophiles, crib deaths, traumatized Gulf War veterans; no subject matter is too morose or passé. Fuck, I’d sure hate to live in this guys ultimate world of doom and gloom where ever minute could be your last before the safe lands on your head.

Power, lies and corruption – oh my! Geraldo Rivera is like the modern world's version of Chicken Little; constantly crying out that the sky is falling, or at least is poisoning you in your sleep, and generating as much panic among the mainstream masses as possible. The whole world is careening towards to Hell and 'ol Geraldo is at the wheel!

This recent series of investigative exposes aired on CNN are only half hour portals into the mind of a truly paranoid individual. I’d rather go on a Christmas fishing trip with Scott Peterson than have to endure any further Geraldo Rivera Investigative Reports. Not because I’m still pissed off at him over wasting my time in opening Capone’s hidden vaults all those years ago, but because if you ever take anything that Geraldo offers up as truth you’ll only end up completely deranged and living in a cardboard box under some bridge.

If Anderson Cooper was the purveyor of media sensationalism; then Geraldo Rivera is the official concierge for Dante’s 9th Level of Hell. Any of Anderson's 360 program spiels is like honey from the lips of an angel compared to Geraldo's paranoid delusions.

I wouldn't watch ANY Geraldo Rivera Investigative Report's, unless maybe, he features an insiders look into a penthouse suite with Paris Hilton, Kobe Bryant, and Elvis impersonator, and a midget named Little Earl.

Now THAT'S investigative reporting!

"Pass the Viagra, Grandpa."

It was mentioned to me today by one of my new recruits, that he had been married for exactly half of his life. And most peculiarly – he said it with something of a smile on his face. Now, I will give this gentlemen total credit here, he seems like a perfectly genuine individual with more than just acorns rattling around in his noggin – I can see where being married for half his life could be something of a real accomplishment…

…but it just scares the living shit out of me!

After all, I know how old I am now and I know what double that is. And the thought that I should ever make it to the point in my life where I too could say that I’ve been chained to the same person for half my life just makes my nuts shrivel. By that stage in my aging process I’ll have all the sex appeal of an iron lung. I won’t be able to get a hard-on in a wind tunnel much less ever make love to my partner.

Now, about this gentleman to whom I was referring, he’s still considerably less in age now than I will ever be at the time when I too should ever be able to accomplish such a monumental plateau of marital bliss. This whole scenario is such a bizarre concept to me. It didn't so much as snowball out of control in my fragile male psyche as it totally careened towards the edge on a lubed up bobsled.

As it is, I’ll dance in the fucking street should my cat ever outlive my African violet that sits on the bathroom windowsill! Seriously! I’ve had bouts of indigestion that have lasted longer than some of my relationships.

Hillbilly Weddun (Reprise)

Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore were married over a month ago and the celebrity rumor mill is still buzzing like a hive of angry bees. Well, more correctly, they're no longer buzzing any longer so much as I’m just now getting hip to this particular current Hollywood event.

I know, I know – I must live in a bubble. What can I say? I have purposely ignored the last three or four Star magazine covers while checking out at the supermarket and therefore I find that I’m entirely out of the loop.

One such unsubstantiated juicy rumor had it that Demi didn’t actually want Ashton’s family present at their nuptial ceremony because she feared that they might not exactly be “sophisticated” enough.

Now pardon-fucking-me for asking in the first place, but for the wedding of a 43-year-old cougar (making her 15 years Kutcher’s senior) and one of the jack-morons from ’Dude, Where’s My Car?’ – wouldn’t Ashton’s family have perhaps the perfect level of “sophistication” to attend a wedding of this caliber?

Are you fucking kidding me?

I bet the Kutcher family trailer looks right in place at Demi’s L.A. mansion driveway. And I’m equally sure that it was a lot of fun for everybody involved too, what with all the Kutcher’s painting themselves up and dancing around an open fire at the reception before cooking up varmints for the big weddun’ feast.

What else can you say? I doubt highly that someone with children named Rumor Glenn, Scout LaRue, and Tallulah Belle has any just cause to be picky about anyone else's social trappings. Shit, her kids sound the roll call of red-necked freaks working for any traveling carnival. And either of these three kids wouldn't have enough sophistication to rip even Jeff Foxwothy's ticket at the ‘Tilt-o-Whirl’!

Likewise, people who have previously banged Emilio Estevez should not throw stones in glass houses.