« March 2007 | Main | May 2007 »

April 29, 2007

Dear Diary: Day of Princessing

Doodle's last comment may not have made much sense to anyone here. Actually, I can't see why it would make sense to anyone here, except for me of course. What the youth was looking for was a photo she had taken of me, her uncle and one of my (many) heroes (and I don't mean K-Dog, Burton Bell, Melissa Rivers, Tonya Harding, or Mr Obama). No, said hero would be none other than the one and only Mr. Larry David larry david. There is a story behind this photo, and so here we go.

It was a few years ago, Jeri dragged me out to California - as if the time served in the Orange County Penal System wasn't enough to break my spirit. Actually, the joke was on her...it was her family we were visiting. As our jetliner landed, I remember feeling my epiploic apendidcies tearing off, as the devil called California (in this case the, subdemon called Los Angeles) reached out to grab my soul and pull me into it's palm tree laden hell. Once again, I ignored the selfish whine of the demon (this time appearing as a flock of happy go lucky L.A. denizens), grabbed Jeri, and our pretentious rental car, and headed North to West Hollywood and the safety of Fast Eddie's "As Republican As You Can Get" arms.

I mainly kept to myself, letting Jeri and her fams reuinte, get all loveydovey and so forth. It got a bit nauseating a few times, but really that was only when her dad would speak of politics, utter racial epithets, praise Bush for murdering the non Christians etc. But I bit my lip and cheeks, because I didn't want to miss out on my chance to hopefully meet Larry David. And this meeting, was hopefully going to be facilitated by none other than Jeri's Uncle Al.

I kept checking the clock in the room, in eager anticipation of Al's arrival home. Apparently he was working on some sort of Pilot for a new show. This one involving the antics of a dysfunctional family. (This would later become known as The War At Home). I didn't care about any of that, I just wanted to find out if he A) Knew Larry David, B) Knew where Larry David lived and C) Could help fill in some blanks in my Larry David scrapbook.

Finally....finally the knock at the door was heard. The Al stepped in, and sweetly embraced his niece. (There's a certain tv character modeled after young Doodle by the way). I let The Al make the rounds of the room, and then pounced on him.

For a man of smaller build, he flung me off pretty hard.

So, I waited, and then over dinner, (at a *famous* diner, where Jeri ordered a $13.00 sandwich, and ignored it), I began with my litany of questions for The Al. Try as he might to shrug them off, ignore them, talk around them, use the old "he never comes to this side of the hill" line, I wasn't going to give up.

This sort of attack went on at every meal we had with The Al (2-3/day), until I finally broke the man down. Towards our last day, Jeri and I were forced to attend a luncheon at some sort of shishi, "Look at me I'm a Republican and hate blacks too" restaurant. I went outside to clear my head of all the elephant shit, and saw The Al was doing the same. (He's not a hater of the American people either). "Hey Moishe," he said. (He always calls me that). "I wanted to show you something."

And from around the numerous SUV's, came Larry David. I pounced on him too, and he, was nowhere near as strong as The Al.

And that, in a nutshell is the story behind the photo, my encounter with Larry David, and how I learned that one time God took a shit and created California. And the Republican Party.

April 21, 2007

Dear Diary: Molten Sporks

Last night Jeri and I went down to th ice skating rink - something that we don't embark on very often, most likely due to the repeated Tonya Harding comments, the sweater I wear in the rink and probably the fact that I can't stay on my feet for more than 12 seconds (a new record by the way). [On a side note, Jeri is often heard moaning "why...why...why?!" from the media room. Now, either she's mocking Nancy "The Cunt" Kerrigan, or she's bemoaning my presence in the house. I lean towards Nancy. And so does Melissa.]

How was that for a digression? And the whole gist of the story was going to be pertaining to the nachos, and the subsequent spilling of the tray, cheese in Jeri's hair....and now that I've gotten off track, I'm not sure how to get back on.

Now, the truly incredible update is that Jeri found a few photographs of the ever gorgeous Mary Kate & Ashley....and she not only didn't throw them away, she brought them home, and placed them proudly and prominently on the fridge. I keep pinching myself, thinking this can't be real, what have I done, is she going to throw them away or worse....tear them. But no, the duo is still there looking sexy and coquettish. Mmmm.

As far as any *real* updates, yes I will be sending additional funds towards the *government* in the hopes that it is misappropriated and used to murder additional people, and to the local **government** so that it hopefully be used in other ways besides the children. Let's face it, they're not going to get any smarter here. Let's just make abortion retroactive and mandatory for those born say, post 2000? And we in Arizona will just rely on other states to step in and take control.

I like Obama's laugh.

April 02, 2007

Dear Diary: Tramp

So Saturday was a bit of a waste of time. One of those, "We'll deliver your sofa between 11 and 3" kind of days. Despite my frantic nose pressing against the front door, I was perhaps the more patient of the two of us. Something neither of us had taken into consideration when procuring the sette, was the size of the fucker. Now, those who've been to our bungalow know what we're talking about. Maybe not though. It's not the size of the room marking the final destination of the sofa, but rather the size of the passage way leading from atrium into the salon that suddenly became a problem.

Not for me mind you, I just stood there flapping my gums, pretending I was a handyman - hoping to thwart any "hey buddy can you hand me that stick thing?". And for good measure, I stretched out a hand to try and help get this sofa through the passage way.

One of the delivery kids (well, 1 kid, 1 felon...clearly), was pretty lazy and unimaginative about the whole thing. Let's just call him Felon. (Or Anybody. Or Somebody. Or Nobody). He was all too eager to call it a day, leave us trapped in our home by a sofa, and leave for his 40oz. Fuck him, I've called the probation office about him...but that's another story, for much later like say...next month's entry. Moving on:

The kid was having no part of that, the sofa was going in the house if it was the last thing he did before dying. Well, that, and try to get that piece of Jeri's hair to stay down once and for all.

And because of him, and his patience, we now have a new sofa. I apologize again for your broken finger, and hope your cohort didn't short you on the tip.

Audiolicious!

Categories

Archives

Creative Commons License
This weblog is licensed under a Creative Commons License.