I'm A (Workout) Slave for U

So, earlier today I was driving to the gym, en route to wail away on my pecs (jealous?) when out of the blue I spotted the madness.

The shouting.

The screaming.

The vague foreign accents.

The rat-at-tat clicking of the cameras.

The Paparazzi!

And we're not talking about a trio of lurking pervs with cameras...

I'm talking PAPARAZZI worthy of the one, the only....

Yes, Britney.



Now, I didn't jump to this conclusion judging from the sheer chaos of the scene before me, I jumped to my conclusion based on the location of the scene...

Starbucks.

Does Britney like her Starbucks!??!?!



Like, Duh!!!!

SCUZZY PARASITES WITH CAMERAS + SUGARY FRAPPAHELLYEAHS ='s BRITNEY?

Looking at the insanity to my left, I followed my first natural instant and immediately slammed on the brakes. My heart was steering the wheel, but my head trying to interrupt me the entire time: "Go to the gym, Brian, leave the poor girl alone!"

But my heart had different ideas: "Shut The Fuck Up Head...You Gotta See This Mess For Yourself!"

I finally got a clear view of the parking lot I was heading into, and never in my life have I seen this kind of frenzied mob, it was a goddamn madhouse, I swore I saw a dancing bear in the midst of it all....

So, I'm sailing into the parking lot via the exit only lane, and suddenly they spy me and a couple of them start screaming at me. "THEM" being the paparazzi, or as I call them after my personal run in, THE PAPS.

So, the Paps are getting hysterical and a few of them scream at ME in vague foreign accents, for pulling in through the exit lane.

WRONG WAY, WRONG WAY!

EXIT ONLY, READ THE DAMN SIGN!

Lord, what a fucking oversensitive bunch. When did they get all high and mighting for following the rules?!!?

Have you ever noticed how incensed they get when they scream things at the celebrities, even if it's about the most mundane act. Picture it: Lohan's leaving the hospital (for dehydration, hardy har har) and while running to her car she happens to drop her pen, and suddenly they (the PAPS) start shaking with uncontrolled, unhealthy, unnerving energy and scream out:

"Lohan, you dropped the pen.

Your pen.

THE PEN MY CHILD,

YOU DROPPED IT,

THE PENNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!"

(Back to Reality)

In MY own uncontrolled, unhealthy, unnerving impulse, I pulled into a pretty decent spot in the middle of the parking lot of hell.

Confession: At that moment I was honestly disgusted with myself based on the fact that I willingly, dangerously (the lid to my diet coke was unscrewed!) and deliberatly was throwing myself into the world that has contributed to (and in my opinion) enabled the demise of Britney Spears. A demise that is gleefully being featured on a weekly basis by an industry with the most artistic integrity...the tabloids! I'd say look for yourself, but how can you not?!



So, I'm in the parking lot, I've braked and before I can open my door handle, I take a quick glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror.

.
..
...
....

Ewwwwww!

Honestly, I looked freaking sicccccck. Before I jumped in my car to head to the gym, I had taken the dogs I'm dogsitting for on a walk around the block. (Where I spotted Jenny...from the block...and for what it's worth I was fooled by her rocks.) Anyhow, the walk unfortunately led to me stepping in dog shit (symbolic for my later with the shitty paparazzi? hmmmmmm....) Dog-shit-stepping-in led to a sneaker hose down in the backyard, which led to me getting totally drenchd. (The hose had a totally gnarly spray, the nozzle dangerously dialed to some powerful turbo mode.)

So, I'm sitting in the car, I haven't even worked out yet, but I already look like Whitney three songs into a concert...aka dripping wet! (How dated was that diss?)

When I turned on the hose, it jerked rapidly and my head bore the brunt of the spray as evidenced by my hair, matted to my skull as if I had just dipped my hand into a jar of green Depp gel and slapped my forehead as hard as I could. Unflattering? Yes!

Also of note: I got the sneakers pretty clean, but there is an off chance that some leftover canine excrement (dogshit) was still stuck to the bottom of my shoe.

My hand still hovering on the door handle, my eyes transfixed on my soppy, sad, saggy grey workout gear, my sneaks quite possibly reaking of crap, I had to ask myself:

"Brian, do you really want to barge into the Starbucks just to get a glimpse of a woman (girl) who is suffering from a drug problem or a legitimate mental disorder?"

I answered, quickly: YES!

I had to ask the immediate followup:

"Brian, do you really want to get caught in the background of a blurry Britney paparazzi shot looking like you just emerged from the the fountain located in front of the Starbucks?!

I answered, quickly: NO!

You see folks, it's called personal dignity!

It's called respect. R-E-S-P -you get the idea....

I started up my car, I buckled up, I pressed on, heading for the exit lane, this time with the intention of exiting. As I passed the Starbucks entrance which was the center of attention for all the paparazzi's lenses, I slowed down, as if passing a bad accident on the highway, which I kind of was. I strained my head out the window as I circled around the Starbucks, still secretly hoping I might spy a hand cupped to her mouth or a whisp of her matted hair extensions?!

No such luck.

So I exited.

I held my head up high, basking in the pride I felt for not giving in to my sick, scary impluse.

I drove to the gym.

I wailed on my pecs.

The whole time thinking...

Britney, was that you!?!

Peace, Love & Snax Me Baby One More Time,
Brian

The Man Who Would Be (Burger) King

Huckabee, Obama enjoy huge night in Iowa.



DES MOINES, Iowa (CNN) -- Barack Obama and Mike Huckabee have claimed victories in Iowa's first-in-the-nation caucuses.

With all Democratic precincts reporting, Obama had the support of 38 percent of voters, compared to 30 percent for John Edwards and 29 percent for Hillary Clinton.

With 92 percent of Republican precincts reporting, Huckabee, former governor of Arkansas, had the support of 34 percent of voters, compared to 25 percent for Romney.

Okay, timeout! So suppose, for just a moment, that the primary ballots cast by the good, decent people of Iowa (can I get a Muscatine shout out?!?) are reflective of our country as a whole, and that this year's upcoming presidential election will feature a showdown between Obama and Huckabee.

You with me here?

Obama vs. Huckabee....Who's it gonna be?

The answer is simple, and you don't need to look at each candidate's voting history or campaign promises to figure it out. It's all on the surface. Just open your eyes and look.

That's what we do, isn't it?! People are talking, but who's really listening? We bloggers don't listen, we judge. We pin point and criticize. We throw a verbal dart. We gossip. We snark. We pfffffffft. We zoom in. We pffffffffft some more. We don't want to here what's being said if we don't like to look at where it's coming from. (Look at all the hatred spewed on Rosie.)

Take a minute and imagine 5 hungry and broke teenagers squished into a Chevy Prizm and ask them to collectively agree upon which fast food drive thru they're gonna hit up for some late night snax. If all five started shouting out their preferences "In & Out!" "Carls Jr!" I guarantee that the request being screamed from the heinous, sweaty beast who's cramped in the backseat will be ignored. He's the guy hiding behind a stained hood, pulled up to cover his matted, greasy hair, he's the guy who's already passing gas in the backseat with the windows locked up even BEFORE he's downed the white castle he's craving, he's the guy who's still got a bit of ranch dressing caked under his fingernails from last night's binge...that utter slob of a man is NOT going to be the first person you're listening to.

Now, if you're the tall, attractive, guy in the driver's seat it's another story. We're talking about the guy who's saying the right thing, the guy who's doing the right things, but making it look cool, most importantly, he's the guy that has the look, not a look, THE look, a look you want to get behind. Now, I can guarantee you that once THAT guy (the guy!) makes a bold stand for something different, something new, something that serves their sandwiches toasted, once he takes a stand behind it, promises it's greatness and offers to drive them there, I believe everyone in the car is suddenly more than happy to stuff a Classic Italian Quizno into their mouths.

For better or worse, we can be a nation that focuses on what "IT" looks like, verses what does "IT" stand for. Today's top story on CNN.com was not the Iowa results, or even about the woman stranded in the elevator for two days (dumb bitch) it was the story documenting Britney's midnight joyride to Cedars Sinai in the back of an ambulance. Or as she was calling it, the Whambulance because Brit Brit's so sad these days :( I hear her weave had scabies and the fire department was called to the house to give a court ordered deep-pressure hosing to the infected weave. See, even I'm getting sucked in here. Which is my point exactly. As a country, we'd rather watch streaming paparazzi footage of a Starbucks swigging sad sack of a "singer" (she wishes) then follow the electoral process that will usher in a new leader who we are counting on to change our global image now than ever.

And the person that's going to benefit the most from our superficial on the surface society....

He's the good looking guy in the driver's seat offering to drive us to Quiznos...

Yes,

OBAMA!

Because at the end of the day, we have to watch the first family for the next 4-8 years of our lives, and honestly, which one's going to be easier to stomach?!

And yes, keyword is stomach. Runner up keyword: stripes?!?!



VS



When I close my eyes and imagine the idea of the "presidency", I am flooded by iconic, almost untouchable images. George Washington crossing the Delaware, Abraham Lincoln's monument towering above the reflective pool of water in our nation's capital, JFK and Jackie O waving to the masses, teeth and hair healthy and beaming.

When thinking of presidential majesty, I do not imagine the family sitting across from me at the Golden Corral, as they load their all you can eat buffet plates (with refillable beverage of choice for only $8.99) with fried country fried steak fried chicken steaks and steamy piles of steamed shrimp, which they will proceed to peel and complain how the slippery lil suckers (anyone?) aren't juicy enough. Now, I wanted this blog to stay politically neutral, non-partisan snax in the city, but by golly, I'm taking a stand and I hereby pronounce that I'm hope the next time CNN reports that Huckabee enjoyed a Huge Night in Iowa, it's at the local Waffle House with a quivering tower of silver dollars piled on his plate! This guy's the chunk wedged in the backseat of the Chevy, screaming about his disgusting cravings, wanting us to give in to his weaknesses, I'm not listening. Someone put a piece of bread in his mouth.

On the flip side, I'm not saying that Obama has the picture perfect portrait. The black and white decision is way too strategic. The Huckabees may have looked like the Pitt-Jolie clan if they chose a flattering black and white theme over their color-coordinated stripe disaster. Moving on, I also take issue with Michelle Obama. For starters, she's smuggling god knows what in those cheeks of hers, and she's almost taunting me with her puckered lock down of a smile. I look at the picture and want to ask her "Whatchu got hiding in those cheeks, Shelly?!" But she does not answer. She instead chooses to taunt me in the photo and I suddenly can hear Brittney Murphy from that damned Michael Douglas movie where she plays a locked up crazy with a secret, and her voice is suddenly Michelle Obama's voice and it answers my query with an annoying "I'll never tellllllll......"

In summation....

Our candidates need to inspire our nation to reach for something grander, to reach for something greater, not to reach for something extra mayo-ey. The only inspiration I get from the Huckabee card is inspiration to pitch a new reality show to NBC while the writers are still on strike, it's called The Biggest Loser: Commander in Chief Edition!

Peace, Love & Huckabee family sized super Snax for all,
Brian

Nu Yeerz Yo

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' auld lang syne



Merry New Years to everyone! I was able to ring a ding ding in the New Year back home in Los Angeles, and if you're suffering an anti-climatic new years boredom you may click on my moist and meaty mug in the picture above to check out my New Year's Eve photo album. Most include my annoying, posing mug, others feature annoying, posing mugs of drunken friends and drunken strangers, some, in fact, feature the non-annoying mug of the deaf girl from weeds, who is an amazing actress, and who happens to be both a drunken stranger and now a drunken friend.

I am now in desperate need to learn the sign language translation for "You're the life of the party" and while I'm at it "Girl, you're losing your top!"

I'm not going to post an obligatory blog about my whiny New Year's resolutions (1) Try to learn dark magic in order to metamorph myself into a tiny person/creature (2) try to read the entire newspaper [that means you Business section] not just dive into the Arts & Entertainment section and leave the leftover messy pile of paper as a means to mop up spills (3) learn that bottled water is your friend, not your foe. (4) Try to write something meaningful, first step being to abandon this blog (I've left like 4 posts and I so want to quit you, already. Abandonment issues much!?!?)

Instead, I'm giving you a resolution to watch this video I'm posting below...the whole thing...it will change your life...near...far...wherever you are!



Peace, Love and Healthier Snacks for a New Year,
Brian

Breakfast Snax

Yesterday I attended my friends Mark and Hans' annual Christmas Party, this year's theme being Holiday at Tiffany's.



I have to give these boys credit. My Christmas party would have featured pigs in a blanket, a yule log and Destiny Child's "8 Days of Christmas" on constant loop with Home Alone 2: Lost In New York playing in the background on mute, in honor of my probable costume, that of the homeless pigeon lady!

Luckily for all of us in attendance, their elegant soirée was just the opposite: a classic affair which featured a signature house drink (White Christmas Cosmo), digital rear-screen projection and nary a Culkin reference in sight... although at one point I was tempted to run out of the party screaming, "I'm not afraid anymore!"

The only thing the party was sorely missing was a track from the 90's one hit wonder band Deep Blue Something, which is tragic because I so wanted to break into chorus:

And I said, "What about 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'?"
She said, "I think I remember the film,
And as I recall, I think, we both kinda liked it."
And I said, "Well, that's the one thing we've got."

If you're not singing along then just sign off now....

Anyhow, towards the end of the evening there was a photo call for all the Audreys to take their places on the spiral staircase for a photo shoot. Channeling my inner, er, outer Capote I decided I simply must take my place at the foot of the staircase. With all these ladies preening and posing, it was too good of an oppourtunity for me to pass up.

As I darted into the lineup, the random Tiffany I nudged beside (who I'm sure looked the part when the film came out...in 1961...Oh, snap!) dropped her doe-eyed, demure Audrey Hepburn pose in exchange for an evil Katherine Hepburn glare as the brim of my hat infringed on her eye line. She pointedly tapped her gloved finger on my shoudler and decided to break some shocking news to me, "Excuse me, but you're not a woman!"

I snapped back, "Oh, really?! So that's why I'm bursting out of these panties?! Thanks for the news!"

Not really, but seriously, after she alerts me to the fact that I do not have a vagina, i.e. "you and your man-testes (is there any other kind?) need to get the eff out of this photoshoot, I respond with an immediate flick of my fan, a roll of the eye, and an accusatory: "How DARE you!"

...and CHEESE!!!



A Closer Look:




Peace, Love & Snax,
Brian

P.S. While on poster tour with Bridget in 2005, one of the bestsellers that we would sell to the insecure freshman girls looking to cover their bare walls (in addition to a Sex and the City 8x10 from Season 1 featuring Miranda with Kool-Aid red hair) was the quintessential Audrey Hepburn black and white still of her perched in front of the Tiffanys window. After Bridget would neatly roll the poster and rubber band it, I would deviously set the trap. I couldn't resist. "So, what's your favorite Audrey Heburn movie." At this point one of two responses would come out of their confused little faces. a) "Wait, she's in movies?!?!" or b) "Breakfast at Tiffanys." My immediate followup, "No, besides Breakfast at Tiffanys?!"

Crickets............

P.S.S. One person in the photo went by the name Hot Chocolate. Can anybody guess who?!



(Sorry Tom!)