What is it about airplanes? Why are they so annoying now?
You are on a ten hour flight coming back from wherever you’ve been — from a secret location vacation. That’s what I like to call my vacations: secret location vacations. (We had a great time on ours by the way).
So we are nearly at the end of our ten hour flight back to Los Angeles, when the flight attendant becomes just really annoying. Here we are, watching our fourth movie and enjoying it. It was a really great movie called “My Sister’s Keeper,” and we’re getting close to the gut-wrenching end when the poor girl is dying of cancer.
Then, all of a sudden, the movie freezes on the screen as the flight attendant gets on the P.A. system to talk to us about . . . money. Yes, she wanted to announce that they were sending around a bag to collect money for UNICEF.
Now maybe if they had brought around a giant plastic pumpkin — or even one of those orange boxes like we used to use when I was a kid — then I might have given them my leftover change. To pass around a garbage bag, though, is just showing there there is no innovation.
It was also really annoying to have her go into this long speech about UNICEF when I just wanted to see the end of the movie. When the movie final did resume, the pilot gets on the speakers.
Who cares that we are almost there. Just land the plane. Then he gives us a guided tour of what is below us. As I am in a middle row, I can’t possibly see that we’re flying over Vegas.
Then the movie comes back on, except it is interrupted again by one of my favorite things in the world:the welcome to America video. It’s such a wonderful video. It teaches you how to make it through customs as if you are retarded.
Look, I’ve flown into England, Germany and lots of other countries, and nobody else plays a video about what to do when you get there. That’s part of the fun of going — not knowing what to do, what to claim and what to fill out.
The United States, however, has an entire patriotic video. Any of you who work for the government are probably cringing right now because I probably sound very anti-American.
The truth is that I am not anti-American at all. I just do not want to watch these videos . . . especially during a crucial part of the movie I’m trying to finish on the plane.
When they finally put the movie back on again, then the flight attendant comes over and says she wants to put my headphones away before we land in another 20 minutes. I looked at her and said, “No, you’ve already interrupted the move fourteen times.”
So if any of you work for the airlines, please help out and see what you can do about getting rid of those videos. Also, although I don’t mind giving money to causes, do we have to be asked while we’re on a plane?
We already give money everywhere we go. You are at the airport and a Hari Krishna hits you up before you hit the plane. You get off the plane, and some guy in a priest outfit is hitting you up for some type of Catholic school thing.
I mean everywhere you go, people are asking for money. Really, I’d like to see some ingenuity at least from the people asking me for the money. I’d like to see the first bum on the street with a credit card processing machining. That would really impress me. Instead of asking for change, they could tell you that they take PayPal, American Express, Visa and Master Card.
My feelings about airplanes would be different if the airlines offered better things on a plane. It would be different if when you boarded a plane, they asked if you were single and seated you with the other single people. I mean, how many times have you walked down the aisle of the plane toward your seat and thought, “Why aren’t I sitting next to THAT person?!”
You could change seats throughout the flights and get to socialize with lots of different people. They could designate a whole singles section in the back of the plane. It could be like a mini speed dating event in the back five rows.
They could have a section for each group. Singles could hang in the back few rows. Divorced people would sit in rows 3 through 7. Couples would hang out in a section together. There would be a section just for swingers. All all the screaming kids would be put in their own section.
Better yet, why not have an entirely separate plane just for kids. No adults, just the kids. Instead of flight attendants, there would be adult babysitters on the plane. They would walk around the plane serving three kinds of milk: breast, whole and skim. Can you imagine what those flight attendants would look like by the end of each trip? Green pea spit up on their shirts and all sorts of other craziness.
I actually think that singles should have their own plane . . . and even their own airline. On that airline, the cart would go around serving shots, cosmopolitans, martinis and Jaegermeister. Instead of peanuts, they would hand out condoms to each person.
There would be a special place for people to go to hook up and join the mile high club. If you think about it, this is a great idea and actually superior to other ways people meet and hook up.
Think if you were on a ten hour flight and ended up getting laid. Is that so crazy? People hook up all the time after two or three hours of talking to someone in a bar. Ten hours sitting and talking with someone on a plane is a long time to get to know someone. It’s like three dates worth of conversation smushed together into one trip.
On the singles airline, if you get laid on the flight you would earn triple miles. just think, three trips to Europe getting laid on each one and you’re executive platinum status. If you think executive platinum has benefits on American, on our airline you get your own waterbed in the back complete with a Hugh Hefner silk robe. Talk about priority seating. . .
This singles airline concept would definitely save the airline industry a lot better than collecting for UNICEF.
Halloween. Wow, We are really rolling through 2009. Pretty soon we’ll be up to another one of my most overrated holidays — Thanksgiving.
I do know what I’m going to be for Halloween, though, this year. I am going to be jet lag.
It’s going to be about 10:45 am when I finish writing this blog, and after getting up at 4:30 am, I have already caught up on seventeen days of emails, walked the dog three times, went to Whole Foods, got the car washed, and saw the sunrise for the first time . . . sober.
Even after accomplishing all of that by mid-morning, I still can’t figure out why people always say it’s great to get up early because you get so much done in the morning. It’s true that you get a lot done in the morning, but then you’re tired by lunch and you have the whole rest of the day still ahead of you.
I get so much done all day long, and I’m not tired. So once my body clock goes back to normal, I think I’ll continue to be a late riser.
The great thing about being away for a while at this time of the year, is that I am going to get to go through my second “fall back.” I already “fell back” once in France, and now I’m going to get to do it again here in L.A. it’s like time travel.
Speaking of time travel, I saw an absolutely terrible movie on the airplane called “The Time Traveler’s Wife.” I still don’t understand how you can go back in time and see yourself.
That would, however, be a great idea for a Halloween costume. You can tell people you are a time traveler and you’ll see them in ten minutes. What a great approach for the night. You are talking to a woman and you say, “I’d love to talk to you now, but I’m time traveling. I’ll see you in three hours . . . in my bed. How do I know that? I’m a time traveler!”
Have a great Halloween, and enjoy this classic Halloween blog. . .
It’s time for the Monster Mash. It’s a graveyard smash . . . It caught on in a flash . . . ‘Cause it’s the Monster Mash . . .
So how exactly are you going to mash this Halloween season?
Remember the good old days walking door to door with a plastic pumpkin, knocking on strangers’ doors, and hoping you didn’t get an apple with a razorblade in it? By the way, what kind of person hands out apples at Halloween anyway? We’re out for candy! In fact, lots of candy . . . and not a stinkin’ apple! That’s the shit your mother gives you at home.
As we rang each door bell, we’d utter these magic words: “Trick or treat for UNICEF!” For those of you who don’t know what UNICEF is, it was a private collection. That is, we would collect it . . . and UNICEF would never ever get it.
Wouldn’t it be fun if you could go to an apartment complex where hot chicks and singles reside wearing your Scooby Doo costume with the plastic mask and that shiny material that your mother had to tie in the back. You remember those, the kind where if your mother bought the wrong size, it only came down to your ankles?
The great thing about that shiny material though was that it repelled all the eggs and the shaving cream pelted at you by the older kids. Not to mention, it was always freezing outside and you never wanted to wear a jacket because it would ruin your great costume.
What a great costume that was that your Mom bought for $5.00 at Wal*Mart. Thanks a lot Mom!
Not to mention, sometimes your head was too big for the plastic mask so either a lot of chin or a lot of forehead would always be visible. On top of everything else, that cheap elastic string on the back of the mask would continuously break, so the mask got tighter and tighter every time you fixed it.
So now you’re an adult. You are no longer trick or treating in cheap costumes that don’t fit. You now dress up in adult-themed costumes.
Women will dress up in skimpy little bunny costumes. Men will dress up as women . . . not a pretty sight by the way, and definitely not a costume I would consider.
Instead of getting a stomach ache from eating a pumpkin full of candy, as adults we get a stomach ache from drinking a pumpkin full of booze. The candy is no longer chocolate with caramel filling . . . it has become the opposite sex.
The problem is that people tend to act really stupid on Halloween. They start talking like the character they are portraying.
I met this female pirate one time at a Halloween party. When I asked if she would like a drink, she answered “Aye matey!” Then I asked if she would be interested in some casual sex that night, and she answered “Aye matey!!” In fact, she said “Aye matey!” all night until she passed out from drinking too much pumpkin juice.
A Halloween party for adults is hilarious. Women will have sex on Halloween and then rationalize it: “It wasn’t me . . . Wonder Woman slept with him.” Men will approach women with the worst pick-up lines ever.
Everyone here in L.A. wants to go the Halloween party at the Playboy mansion which, by the way, I’ have attended. It happens to be a lot of fun. Lots of “Aye Matey’s” there . . . and lots of people on drugs.
There’s nothin’ like Halloween in L.A.! I think here in L.A., that everybody’s magic pumpkin is filled with magical Ecstasy.
Once again, remember that Halloween is just one night. Either you can rap or you can’t.
Just wearing a costume is not going to turn a man into a smooth-talking stud. A woman’s sexy skimpy costume is also not going to make her the social butterfly she craves to be. Halloween is also the night you will hear the most stupid pick-up lines of any night of the year . . . with the possible exception of 5-4-3-2-1 night.
So what is my idea for a good Halloween? Go to Target. Buy one of those little kid costumes and an orange plastic pumpkin. I’m sure one of that little kid costumes will go down as far as your knees . . . if you’re lucky. This is very funny.
Then go door to door wearing your costume and carrying the plastic pumpkin, and say this to the hot single mom or dad who answers the door: “Trick or treat for a social life! Please put your phone number in the pumpkin, and I’ll call you tomorrow when I become a person again instead of a giant Hello Kitty.”
I think I’m going to go to this area of my town that has a ton of single women and ring some bells. Bells will be ringin’ … Oops! Wrong holiday.
So now you know what I will be doing on Halloween. What will you be doing?
I will leave you with one of my favorite kid jokes: Why can’t witches get pregnant? Because ghosts have Halloweenies …
You know what’s funny, I was just on Skype trying to call a guy who works for me and he rejected my phone call (because he was on another call with someone). Nowadays with Caller ID, you always know who is calling you.
This blog is not, however, about Caller ID. It’s about what the guy said to me when he let me know he was on another call. He said to me, “I’ll call you when I get off.”
I thought, “I really don’t want to talk to you after you get off. I really don’t.” First of all, I don’t want to visualize you going to the bathroom, taking care of yourself, and then grabbing your phone with your greasy disgusting cum fingers. I really don’t need to know about you getting off.
Now if you are a woman and say to me “I’ll call you when I get off,” maybe that’s another story. Really, though, I don’t want to know that you have just gotten off.
It’s very funny the words people use. How many times has someone said to you on the phone, “Hey I’ll call you when I get off.” Well, great! I hope you enjoy that orgasm. Do you want me to listen to you have it too?
So the next time someone says to you, “I will call you when I get off,” be prepared with something good to say to them. Tell them, “Please don’t call me when you get off, because I don’t want to hear you cum. Call me when you’re off the phone.”
It would be interesting, though, if someone meant this literally. Can you imagine?
You pick up the phone and hear, “Oh, oh, oh!” as they moan and groan on the phone. If they have a significant other, you might even hear the climactic, orgasmic finish. This would really suck, however, if you haven’t had sex in a while and were constantly listening to people who call you when they’re getting off.
I get emails all the time from people who tell me how rotten their life is because they cannot meet people. My response is always, “That’s easy to fix! Try driving in L.A. traffic. You can’t do a thing about that.”
Los Angeles is a combination of a lot of things: sunshine, overpopulation . . . and the worst drivers you’ve ever seen. Overpopulation breeds bad drivers, because when you far too many people living in a small area you are bound to get a collection of the world’s worst drivers
.
Los Angeles is not actually a tiny area, but it feels like it is because you can’t get anywhere. It’s like an old movie with not-so-great special effects where the people traveling in cars pass by the same scenery over and over again. That’s what it’s like living in Los Angeles.
Everyone who lives in Los Angeles has a driving horror story. Mine? One time it took me 2½ hours to get to a Lakers game. To give you an idea how close I lived to the arena, it took me only seventeen minutes to get home. To put this in perspective, when I lived in Colorado I could drive 170 miles in 2½ hours.
So, anyone who is complaining about not being able to approach members of the opposite sex needs to come to Los Angeles and get behind the wheel of a car. You’ll never see approaching as being frustrating and intimidating ever again!
People will tell you that to deal with L.A. traffic, all you need is good music and a cell phone. I’m thinking that instead of good music and a cell phone, you really need a bullhorn and a shotgun, because I really like kick back on the sofa listening to music to relax. As for talking on my cell phone, I really don’t want to talk on the phone while I am screaming at people in traffic.
You have approach anxiety? No problem! I’ll tell you what. If I can figure out how to get through L.A. traffic, I’ll show you in five minutes how to meet members of the opposite sex.
Let me ask you a few questions. When you’re at a friend’s house and you use his restroom, do you pee all over the floor? Do you leave the water running after you’ve washed your hands? Do you dry your hands on his guest towel, and then throw it on the floor?
I am guessing (or maybe more hoping) that the answer is absolutely not. It always amazes me, though, how disgusting it is in so many public restrooms. Really, they are repulsive.
I don’t know about you, but I have to go into some type of yoga pose in order to be able to pee in a public restroom. I don’t want the bottom of my sneakers touching 4,000 other people’s piss!
Do people do this in their own bathrooms? No, but it seems like there’s urine everywhere in public restrooms!
You go into a public restroom to take a dump, and all of a sudden you become the maid. You have to clean the toilet seat off because there is always urine all over it. There are puddles of urine everywhere.
It is absolutely repulsive. People are animals.
Have you ever been in an airplane bathroom? You know you left that little present in the bottom of the bowl. You could have flushed it! If hygiene or courtesy doesn’t inspire you, think about getting to hear the cool flushing noise of an airport toilet.
People leave those kind of presents all over the place . . . and it isn’t even Christmas! I just don’t understand why people act like animals in public restrooms.
So let me ask all of you this: What is the grossest thing you have seen in a public restroom and why? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. I guarantee, my story is grosser than anything you can ever imagine!
Do you know what I love? I LOVE staying in hotel rooms. It’s always so much fun going to a hotel.
What I love most about staying in a hotel, though, is getting to spend a lot of money to go sleep in a bed that 10,000 other people have slept in before you. In fact, when I first get to a hotel I like to look around at all the people with whom I would never want to share a bed but who probably slept the night before in the bed I’m about to be given.
Then when you finally do get up to this “sanitized” room, you get to drink out of a glass that’s been sitting upside down on the bathroom countertop. Oh yes, I know exactly what the maids do with that rag. It goes straight from the toilet to the countertop. That’s just wonderful.
Then when I finally roll into my bed that 10,000 other people have slept in (and had sex in), I get to turn out the lights and listen to my neighbors coughing all night long. When hotel designers get together, for some reason they always decide to use the thinnest Sheetrock they can find for the walls. I think Kleenex must make the Sheetrock for hotel walls.
There is nothing worse than laying in a hotel bed (that 10,000 other people have slept in) and listening to the person in the next room cough all night . . . except maybe hearing the people in the next room having sex. I think there is nothing grosser than hearing someone grunt and groan, especially the nasty people you see in the lobby.
Call me a snob if you want, but I feel that paying a couple hundred dollars for a room entitles you to peace, quiet . . . and a comforter that doesn’t have other people’s cum all over it! I don’t get it. How hard is it to wash the comforter or bedspread?
I have a rule when I go to a hotel. If the hotel bed has a bedspread, it comes immediately off of the bed. I don’t want to touch someone else’s cum-stained bedspread, though, so I always take one of the washcloths and use that to grab the bedspread and throw it on the ground. Unfortunately, since the maid always does her job, that bedspread always ends up right back on the bed the next night.
So as I sit here tonight preparing to get on a plane and stay in some hotel rooms over the next few days (as in a few of those 10,000 use beds), I wonder why I always suffer with insomnia when I stay in a hotel. I’ve finally figured it out: I can’t get all of these disgusting images out of my mind!
Before we get to today’s blog (which, by the way, is going to be hilarious) about everybody Facebook fighting, I have to ask. Do you remember that song?
Everybody Is Kung Fu Fighting.
Those cats were fast as lightning…
So, now you guys realize that not only do I give masterful dating advice, but I’m 3-0 on my football picks so far. I told you the Saints were going to beat the Lions. I told you the Jets were going to beat the Patriots. I also told you the Colts would squeak by the Dolphins last night.
Not only am I going to find you your next relationship and get you laid on your next date, but I’m actually going to put money into your pockets. I’m 3-0 already, so check back on Friday for my next pick…
Let’s talk today about Facebook fighting. How many of you are on Facebook?
For those of you who are, be sure to add me as a friend. I love seeing what my readers are up to in their life.
Today we’re going to talk about another phenomenon: Facebook fighting. Sing along to that tune with these words:
Everybody was Facebook fighting.
Those words are fast as lightening
Whenever you add a new friend of the opposite sex
You’re going to start brawling…
A friend of mine emailed me yesterday to say he and his girlfriend were fighting. Apparently his girlfriend saw that he added a friend on Facebook who was female, she wondered ‘who is this woman,’ and it caused a big fight. His girlfriend thought it was some girl he had the hots for that he added as a friend.
C’mon! Look at almost anyone’s Facebook friends. There is usually about 500 of them, and people usually only actually communicate with about one percent of those people.
I have thousands of friends on Facebook, but I couldn’t tell you about even one hundred of them. I know that Jim Almond had trouble chewing some nuts yesterday and was choking. I know someone else had hemorrhoids and decided to share that with everyone on Facebook.
I know yet another person (who supposedly is my friend) is having trouble with insomnia and wants to know how to get rid of it. I can tell him how to get rid of it. Get off Facebook late at night!
Really, though, so many people are Facebook fighting just like my friend emailed to me about what happened with his girlfriend. I mean, some new girl befriended him and his girlfriend thought he was having an affair.
People are changing their relationship status on a daily basis on Facebook. How many times do you look at someone’s page and see their relationship status listed as “It’s complicated?” Sure, it’s complicated, but do you need to tell the whole world?
Some things are private. Why do you need to announce to the whole world that you’re having problems in your relationship?
I love when people say on Facebook that they’re single again. Now that’s marketing. What a great place to date.
Facebook actually is a great place to date. Do you know why?
People put up their real picture (unlike on match.com), not their fantasy picture of how they looked ten years ago or their “body-less picture” with just their head showing. People actually put up their real photos because they think their friends are the only ones looking at them.
People don’t like a cheesy dating profile like they see so often on match.com. Facebook is also great because people tell you their real age and what they really do for a living. It seems like everyone on match.com is 29 or 39 years old, in great shape and wealthy.
On Facebook you get the truth. It’s a much better place to date because it’s not meant for dating (or is it?). People are Facebook fighting, but they’re also Facebook dating.
So, really, you should not air your dirty laundry on the Internet. No one should fight on the Internet.
I’ve heard of people breaking up on Facebook. Someone will go to their significant other’s page and all of a sudden discover they’ve been de-friended and blocked.
The Internet is wonderful and social networking sites like Facebook are wonderful for reconnecting and finding old friends. They should, however, never be used for airing your dirty laundry.
If you are Facebook fighting — and for those of you who don’t have the tune in your head already — check out this video and fight out why everyone used to be Kung Fu Fighting and are now Facebook fighting.
If you really want to see what Facebook can do to relationships check out this funny video.
We went out to dinner last night, and the service was just typical L.A., i.e., you felt like the server was stoned. We actually sat in the bar area and the bartender was our server.
We saw our food sitting in the window for almost fifteen minutes. The bartender forgot to pick it up. We saw the plates sitting there under the hot lights. I almost went to get them myself.
The bartender knew she had screwed up, but when she brought the food over all she said to us was “hot plates!” Of course they were hot. They had been sitting under a hot light for fifteen minutes.
Then she couldn’t figure out how to get our bill to print from the computer. By the time she did figure it out, we were late for the horrible movie we ended up seeing.
By the way, don’t go see “The Informant!” It was really bad (and really dumb).
So when I finally get the bill for dinner, I’m looking at it and thinking about how I have to leave a tip for this woman. I’m thinking, “Doesn’t a tip mean that you enjoyed the service?”
I bartended for seven years, and if I ever didn’t get a tip I always assumed it was because I gave poor service or because someone was cheap. Nowadays, tips are viewed as handouts. Everyone wants a tip. In fact, let’s talk about that . . .
Could I get tipped please? Excuse me, I have some advice for you. Can you leave me a tip?
When did we become a tip society? Have you noticed that everywhere you go — whether it’s Starbucks or a local takeout restaurant — that there’s a little line on the credit card slip for you to insert a tip or a jar on the counter asking you to leave a tip?
We’re expected to tip people even when we’re getting takeout. I remember sending someone I used to date with my credit card to pick up some food for us. When she gave me the receipt, I noticed she left a $7.00 tip . . . for takeout! I almost went through the roof.
Why am I tipping the person for takeout? What is up with everyone expecting to be tipped?
On an average Sunday, you’re forced to top people all day long. If you go to brunch (which is a ’self-serve’ meal), you have got to tip the waiter.
Wait a minute. I’m paying for food that costs me four times what I would have paid to buy it myself. Don’t restaurants pay people?
I have to pay my employees. Why can’t I pay my employees cheap wages and have them just make up the difference in tips?
You’re expected to tip everybody nowadays. You get a massage, you’ve got to leave a tip. You get a haircut, you have to tip. At a hotel you have to tip the concierge, the bellboy, the busboy, the waiter and the maid.
You have to tip everyone. Tipping the hotel maid? I know they don’t make good wages, but isn’t that the choice they made?
Why are we tipping everyone in the world? Why is everyone in the world entitled to a tip?
Why do we have to tip 20% in a restaurant. Why do we give a 20% tip everywhere we go. If we spent $100.00 on a Saturday, you’re really spending $120.00 because of all the people you’ve tipped throughout the day.
There are tip cups everywhere you go. You go to a local bagel shop, and the person there who decided to work for minimum wage cutting a bagel expects a tip. You get a cup of coffee and there is a tip cup. You get a scoop of ice cream, and there is a tip cup at the register.
People also try to give you guilt if you don’t contribute to their tip cups. The other day I picked up some takeout food, and as I signed the credit card slip without leaving a tip the woman gave me a dirty look as she put the food in the bag. She expected me to give her a tip (instead of hoping that I would leave her one).
I worked many jobs like this when I was younger, and I never expected to get a tip from every customer (or, really, from any customers). If I got a tip, I was happy. Of course, I expected to get tipped when I was bartending, but not when I was working behind a counter.
So, here’s a tip. If you don’t like what you’re getting paid at your job, go get a new one. Why is everyone at every job entitled to a tip?
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