lol: luke on life

Welcome to what US Weekly copied from us: Who Wore it Best? I'm going with the lady wearing the gorgeous locks.

Hey bicycle riders, you can stop it with the hand signals. Nobody knows what they mean. Are you waving at me? Offering me a hand job? I'm pretty sure the old Asian lady that just parked her Civic on you probably thought you just gave her the right of way.

If you think Cantaloupe is better than Honeydew you are wrong. Honeydew in 2012!

What if you really liked this chick you just met, took her out on a couple requisite dates, finally "got her home" and found out upon entry that her vagina was hella cold? Not mean wicked witch of the east cold, but... Like... Keep your veggies crisp cold. She's super attractive, normal in every way, but her vagina is cold. Like 42 degrees. What do you do then?

Cold vaginas.

Why is anything sold over the counter at drug stores offered in regular strength? Are there people besides kids and the elderly that only have half strength pains that aren't hypochondriacs? "This headache isn't that bad, I'll just get the regular strength Excedrin expectorant. I'll leave the maximum strength for someone who really needs it." "My cough is bad, but not that bad. I mean, I'm coughing some gross shit up but, at least its not blood... I'll just get the regular strength." You people are weirdos or all the strengths are the same and they're charging me more for "extra" that isn't doing anything. Either way I'm buying extra strength. This isn't a BDSM cold. I don't want to feel anything!

I feel like I answered all my own questions in that last paragraph. Thanks Luke, good talk.

Remember back in the day when you watched Monday Night Football and they would show you a controversial play before sending you to commercial viewing and let "you make the call," then came back to the game showing what the refs decided? that was the best.

Nostalgia.

cocktails: by rachel in the know

Anyone who has ever been sexually active has gone through the “I have HIV, I’m pregnant, and (the famous) “I-made-up-this-disease-because-I’m-a-hypochondriac” scare. Hell, I once thought I had vagina cancer when in actuality it was an ingrown hair. Another time I thought I was pregnant not because I missed my period, but because one day my sense of smell was heightened and my boobs kinda hurt.

So when a mysterious rash appeared in an unsettling area, I tried to remain calm. Razor burn? Probably. Until a week later when said rash started making its way all over my legs. Oh my god. It’s taking over my body. This is a new wave of STDs. I’m the first carrier and they are going to quarantine me and have sex-ed classes take field trips to see me in my bubble while the teachers say, “Now children, this is what happens when you drink alcoholic beverages and kiss boys you don’t know.”

I was going to die from a less than epic romp, and I couldn’t let this happen. The guy wasn’t even that cute and I didn’t even come. I wasn’t going to go out like this. I didn’t want to wait for a weekday to see my gyno so I went to the ER immediately. I spent the whole ride to Urgent Care plotting my attack against my Herpinator. If it turned out that I was infected with something I was going to out the shit out of him. The only problem was I didn’t have his number, or last name, but it didn’t matter. If I was tainted, I’d no longer be able to socialize anyway so I’d have nothing better to do than spend my Saturday nights curled up in the corner of my apartment covered in calamine lotion furiously searching Facebook to find him. And I would find him.

I walked into the clinic itchy, annoyed and scared. I quickly filled out the three medical history and release forms and thought long and hard about how I’d explain my “situation” to the doctor of whom I’d never met before. Please don’t be a dude, please don’t be a dude.

It was a dude. A young dude. A pretty frickin’ hot dude who’d I’d probably try to flirt with had we been strangers in a bar and my bottom half didn’t look like a cup of Dippin’ Dots. But no, I wasn’t that lucky. I had no other choice but to come clean. If I ever wanted to have an orgasm from anything other than a battery operated device covered in penicillin I would need to get to the bottom of my curious rash.

The Doctor entered the room and asked what the problem was and I told him. He looked over to the nurse gave a nod and told her to move me to Room 4. Oh god he hasn’t even looked at it and I need to be moved to a special room. I’m toast.

We make our way over there, I undress and he takes a quick peak. Here we go. Bye-bye happy hour, hello chlamydia support groups. But wait. The Doctor swiftly pops up his head up in delight and shouts, “This is nothing more than dermatitis. Nothing some antibiotics and steroids won’t fix.”

I was immediately overjoyed, but also a bit hesitant. He barely even looked. There was no microscope, no swabbing, no nothing. He walked to me to the waiting room, gave me a bottle of pills and read me the instructions. Then he was gone. The receptionist looks at me and says, “You’re all good.”

All good? That’s it? And I don’t owe any money? No. It was all free. Either I have kick-ass employment benefits or I have 2 months to live and the Doctor felt bad for me.

I needed a vodka soda.

lol: luke on life

If you call a couch a davenport you are an asshole.

One of the questions on the exam to become a naturalized American citizen involves the photo to the left. The fortunate exam takers are shown a glossy reprint and asked:

The photo you are now looking at is an example of:
a) american jingoists
b) liberty
c) how to be a gangster
d) lesbians

"I have tons of gay friends" is the new "I have black friends."

You would think that a neapolitan ice cream sando would be better than a plain old vanilla ice cream sando because it has three flavors instead of one, but you'd be wrong. If you just hand me a regular ice cram sando I'm happy. I eat it. If you give me the neapolitan I automatically rank the flavors when I unwrap it. Chocolate being the clear winner with strawberry in a close second followed by sad, sad, "please put a topping on me," vanilla. All of a sudden I am ranking flavors and deciding whether I should go chocolate first or save the best for last. It is hot. I'm hungry. You've got me ranking ice creams. I just wanted a treat and now I've got a chore. If i go chocolate first I'm sad when i get to the end. You just made me sad.

Blessing Nazi: The person poised to say "bless you" before you're even finished sneezing.

Seriously people, look at that dude on the right. The honor of giving him my virginity has long since passed, but if he asked I'd sew my hymen back together to make it happen.

announcing: Sacramento's most eligible bachelor AND bachelorette

BAM! PWeekly and GirlsOnTheGrid.com are proud to announce the third annual Search for Sacramento’s Most Eligible Bachelor – or as some like to call it, SMEB. For the uninitiated, the first SMEB took place in 2010, when yours truly claimed the title of Sacramento’s Most Eligible Bachelor. Eric Dietz took the honors in 2011, and after a triumphant reign (hint: he is no longer “eligible”), he is now ready to hand over his crown, Miss America-style.

The good news is, they will be holding a third annual event, but things are a little different this time. This year, Girls on the Grid is teaming with PWeekly to host the first-ever search for Sacramento’s Most Eligible Bachelor and Bachelorette! So if you have a single friend, relative, coworker, secret crush, WHATEVER, here’s your chance to give them the spotlight they deserve!

Here’s how it works:

Nominations open on Monday, March 5^th and end on Friday, March 16^th.

Submissions are 100% anonymous (but if a nominee would like to withdraw from the contest, they can do so)

Please submit all nominations to girlsonthegrid AT gmail DOT com . Include a photo of your nominee, along with their name, age, occupation, and why you think they are Sacramento’s Most Eligible Bachelor/Bachelorette!

Voting will begin on Tuesday, March 20^th after the top twenty finalists (that’s right – 10 men and 10 women) are announced LIVE on Good Day Sacramento.

The winners will be crowned at a special event on Wednesday, April 4 at District 30 .

We know there are some great single guys and gals out there, so make sure you nominate them next week and vote for them starting on Monday, March 19^th!

robo's ramblings: An Update from the Trenches

It has been almost three months since my wife gave birth to our son and in that three months I have been a mixed bag of emotions (a menopausal meth-addict comes to mind). For the most part, fatherhood has been an amazing test. There have been very few experiences in my life that can top the birth of my son and words cannot describe the feeling I get when he smiles at me. I could walk in the house, having just experienced a cat Armageddon, my shirt still covered in fresh cat blood and mangled fur, the thought of hundreds of cats hissing and meowing as they explode into flaming balls of guts all around me still fresh in my mind, and that gummy little smile of his would make everything better. That being said, I totally and completely understand why people shake their babies.

Imagine a Piccolo Pete that shits, pisses and poops all over itself a dozen times a day and only cares about titties and you’ll get an idea of what a newborn is like. (Here is a pop quiz for you: how does someone with a two-ounce stomach manage to drink six ounces at each feeding? Answer: they shit four ounces in the middle of it.) If you have never experienced baby shit before, it is the color of Snookie, the consistency and texture of chunky peanut butter left out on the dashboard of a Toyota 4Runner in August, and it smells like the inside of Brew-It-Up. Some days, I look like I spent the morning helping UPS paint their fleet of environmentally friendly natural gas vehicles or water skiing behind Willy Wonka’s magical paddle boat. My son has toys that he can’t play with because he shit on them. Our carpet literally has shit stains on it. It can be terrifying if you’re not prepared (i.e. babysit). In all honesty, you get used to it and eventually, you turn diaper changing into a sport (my PR is 19 seconds pee and 28 seconds poop and I have the trophies to prove it) and bath time ends when a spout of urine rises from the water.

That’s enough about shit and piss for the moment. One of the best things about having a baby is that he’s like a marionette puppet. One of my favorite things to do occurs right before bath time. I undress him down to his birthday suit, pick him up so that when I walk with him his ass is leading the way and his balls are dangling, sneak up on my wife while she’s doing dishes or folding clothes, put his balls right up to her head, have her turnaround, and yell, “Balls in your face!” We both laugh hysterically as my son just stares at the light with a confused look on his face. I also enjoy putting him on the dog like a jockey, making him salsa dance while I sing Gloria Estefan, and testing out hair-growth products on him that I buy over the internet from Cameroon. So far, he has not shown any ill effects from the product testing. Although, a couple of weeks after we brought him home from the hospital, the hair on the top of his head fell out, leaving him looking like Dwight Yoakum for a month or so.

Around the same time that his hair started thinning, he also developed the ability to fart. He stops whatever he is doing (usually eating or flailing his arms and legs about), curls his bottom lip under, tightens his brow, and then lets one go. Once the fart has cleared his bowels, he’ll start smiling and rolling his head from side to side. At that moment, I am not sure who is more proud, he or I.

It’s not all fart games however. Parenthood is fucking hard. It is one of the most difficult, stressful experiences I have been a part of and I was in Nam, man. I would compare most nights to the scene in “A Clockwork Orange” when Alex goes through aversion therapy and is forced to stay awake and watch loud, abrasive film clips. There have been studies done that compare the decibel levels produced from a baby’s cry to a jet engine fucking a hyena (or something like that). When I had my decennial physical a few weeks ago, I had the doctor check me for a perforated ear drum because I get this rattle in my ear when I hold my son and he’s crying. I thought for certain the crying had blown my inner ear to bits (turns out it was just ear wax caked on my ear drum). The rattling in my ear drove me mad. When we first brought him home from the hospital and after a long night of crying and a rattling ear drum, I called my son a dick. I called a two-week old a dick. A dick! He won’t know what that means for like three years.

All the horror stories aside, parenthood is rad. You have this little being that you can mold and shape into whatever you want who relies on you for everything. It is not all crying a shitting. Most of the time, he’s alert and smiling and staring at me like I am the most interesting thing on the planet (next to mom’s boobies). Better yet (or maybe not), he looks just like me. Watching him try and put his hand in his mouth for two straight hours makes me think of how simple life can be and once was for all of us (of course we don’t remember any of it). As a parent, it can be extremely therapeutic to just take a step back and realize that some things just don’t matter. This little person’s entire existence revolves around milk. When all you give a fuck about is milk, you have reached enlightenment. (I suppose if you were to substitute milk for vodka in those previous sentences you’d have PWeekly.)

I used to think that having a dog was harder than having a baby because you could put diapers on a baby and eventually the baby learns to speak English (or Spanish or whatever) and use the toilet. Whereas, a dog will shit everywhere and fuck up your house and yard until they die.

I am an idiot.

Author’s Note: I am trying to cuss less verbally so I use this space as my creative cussing outlet.

Fun Fact: Did you know Alex from “A Clockwork Orange” was played by Malcolm McDowell who also played Terrence, Sloan’s father, in Entourage?

Fun Fact #2: Entourage was responsible for cat Armageddon.

lol: luke on life

It's lol time ladies. I've been recently informed by my Gyno that the vag makes up one percent of the female body. I'm 99% male and I would like to occupy yours.

When I found out that my first Thanksgiving week in college only came with two days off as opposed to the week we got in first grade through high school I was as sad as when I found out that my jump from second grade to third did not come with show and tell. So I just had lunch and now we get to do times tables and read?.... Cause I got some shit to show. This is stupid. I want a nap.

This solves nothing, but you could stop occupying parks and occupy Home Depot parking lots like the Mexicans and at least find someone who might actually hire you?

Does the guy who invented the cheap, standard, square bed frames that hold a box spring and your mattress know what a wheel is supposed to do? Cause wheels role and those things don't. Also, wheels are round. Why are the wheels on those frames shaped like a football? I would like to barely be able to push you in only one direction. Thanks dick.

According to Jim is to middle America whites what everything Tyler Perry does is to all the blacks who watch his shows. Both equally terrible.

cocktails: by rachel in the know

Sister Act: Rachel In the Know – Featuring Erin in the Know

Feeling like Brian Wilson during the playoffs and subsequent World Series? Thinking that perhaps the only man who wants a piece of your fat ass is Taylor Lautner, but only when he is playing a hairy ass werewolf in Breaking Dawn? Then get your ass to Happy Nail and Waxing because you got chin hair, girl.

Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don’t act like you didn’t wake up this morning with a 3.4 inch long curly, coarse, black ass hair growing out of your chin. Don’t act. If you have finally come to terms with your beard, read on because I have some advice.

You walk into your local nail and waxing shop. You look at the waxing menu and you stop cold in your steps. WHY IS THERE NO ORDER FOR WAXING MY FACIAL HAIR? Okay, yes. There are obviously waxing options for your eye brow and mustache, but what about my chin hair?

Yes people, in case you haven’t caught on, we are talking full “beardal” region hair. Like, Brian Wilson would be proud and maybe his team would have won a fucking game this year if only my bearded ass had been at the games. Again, don’t act like you aren’t pulling out your chin hair right now with Tweezey. (Shout out to Linens and Things!!)

You walk in. Every woman in the place be staring you down. Because now, her nail lady who was lovingly rubbing the foot for an extra $3 tip is gonna finish her shit and move on to me because I have a tall order, bitches. I need a wax. A full, facial wax.

But now what do I do? I can’t just be like, “ wax my shit.” I mean, what would the Real Housewives of Greenhaven think if I actually said out loud, “My chin is hairy as a 14 year old vagina” and you need to rip it out?

The advice is here ladies. You say, “I need an eye brow wax.” Hella normal right? The millisecond you get into the little room with door securely closed behind you, you turn to this waxer and you say, “ Look, these chin pubes gotta go. Get your largest piece of wax paper and rip it out. Charge me for your leg wax, I don’t care. Just get it done and be discreet.”

She dips her little plastic tong in the hot wax, and you’re thinking, “Bitch, pour that entire fucking pot on my face” but you remain calm. This is her job. She knows how to get out a bushel in a crunch. She slathers it on the bottom corner of my chin. I have to interject at this point. “Um, excuse me, but my hair goes like, UNDER chin, too.” Jesus, am I the only person who has ever come in here for neck hair removal? This can’t be. She puts more wax on my neck. I’m feeling much better.

We get the job finished, and nobody is the wiser. But here is the hard part ladies. Your entire face is as a red as a fresh herpe. How the hell am I gonna get outta this salon without being noticed? I grab my sunglasses, and pop my collar and RUN to the cashier. I shove my debit card into the lady’s face and tell her to ring me up right now. She obliges, but lord knows I have to sign the fucking receipt. Quickly now, bitches be looking.

You’re home free! You leave the salon and you are ready to fuck the night away. You pull out your sexiest bra and… wait, what THE FUCK. What THE FUCK?! I get closer to the mirror and I see it. The lone tit hair. Girls, don’t act. Do not act like you don’t know what I mean.

flu shots. I say no way jose!

Um... Wow.

#GoingtoHellforLaughing
#CoolRaceStuartScott

robo's ramblings: The World Would Be A Better Place If…

Admittedly, I have come down with a serious case of writer’s block these last few months. I have started dozens of posts for this website, only to hit delete because, for lack of a better term, they all sucked camel dicks. Nobody wants to hear about why I like my gym so much or why you’re a fucking lunatic if you watch Fox news on the regular (I’ll save the latter for election season). However hard I tried, I couldn’t come up with anything and I sure is shit wasn’t going to take Patrick’s suggestion of writing a blog about which Jonas brother has better hair or which shows are my early favorites for this year’s Daytime Emmys.

Anyway, I was staring at a postcard from Al the Wop’s bar in Locke, CA that hangs above my desk and I thought to myself, “The world would be a better place if all bars were like Al the Wop’s” and the idea for this blog was born (profound thought I know). To put it simply, this is a list of things I think would make the world a better place. Go ahead and mail the Pulitzer to my office and any book deals should be negotiated through PWeekly’s man pony. I realize that some of these are incredibly stupid (okay, pretty much all of them are stupid), but give them some thought and maybe they’ll grow on you. In the meantime, if you’d like to suggest a blog topic for yours truly to help me get past the current AIDS-like bout of writers block I have been battling, please do so in the comments section and I’ll get right on it.

• The world would be a better place if everyone’s father was more like Coach Eric Taylor from the hit television series ‘Friday Night Lights’ and everyone had a friend who walked around saying, "Texas forever."
  


• The world would be a better place without most of Southern California.


• The world would be a better place if professional athletes were forced to travel back in time and sign their contracts at age 10, without an agent present, and racecar drivers had to do it at age 5.


• The world would be a better place if the governor issued an executive order setting forth guidelines for state employee appearance and dress similar to what a Catholic high school does on liturgy (mass) day.


• The world would be a better place if the Disney Afternoon still ran in its early 90s format of ‘DuckTales,’ ‘Rescue Rangers,’ ‘TaleSpin,’ and ‘Darkwing Duck.’


• The world would be a better place if my car ran on my dog’s shit.


• The world would be a better place if Mormons never learned how to ride bikes.


• The world would be a better place if pizza and gold did not cost the same amount per ounce.


• The world would be a better place if my friend C#$&*@+ was not allowed to use Facebook™ ever again.


• The world would be a better place if Saturday Night Live pulled into the garage, closed the garage door, rolled down the windows, and left the car running.


• The world would be a better place if the purchase of guns and ammunition required a bachelor’s degree and at least three years experience hunting feral cats.


• The world would be a better place if all places of work had an anonymous complaint box similar to what McDonald’s and Wal-Mart do so that once a month valued employees could tell their boss how disappointed they are that they didn’t file the paperwork for their promotion on time so now they have to wait an extra few weeks for their raise.


• The world would be a better place if Bruce Springsteen became a career counselor at a high school when he finished with music.


• The world would be a better place if the writers of seasons five and six of ‘Lost’ had to answer for their crimes against humanity at a full hearing of the ICC in the Hague.


• The world would be a better place if Denny’s brought back the Breakfast Dagwood and ran a year-long special celebrating its return.


• The world would be a better place if you were only allowed to date a person from Midtown, Sacramento once in your entire life.


• The world would be a better place if Costco required a membership fee of $1,000 annually, with $900-$950 (depending on whether or not an executive or regular membership is purchased) going towards a credit for in-store and online purchases.
  


• The world would be a better place if Jim Crow laws were reinstated, except instead of targeting black people they targeted hippies and fixed-gear bikes.


• The world would be a better place if all restaurants followed the Spaghetti Factory’s business model.
  


• The world would be a better place if all elected officials were required to have a gay Muslim immigrant child serving in the military with a penchant for weed, You Porn, and middle-class tax breaks.
  


• The world would be a better place if, after 102 years, Roseville closed its doors.
  


• The world would be a better place if Bryan “Birdman” Williams was a speech writer for President Obama.


• The world would be a better place if someone remade ‘Commando’ again except this time they did a better job of explaining why the nerdy guy gets shot by the “garbage men” in the beginning and how the Porsche magically fixes itself.


• The world would be a better place if Wienerschnitzel invented a fat-free chili-cheese dog and officially put “the Dude” on the menu (chili-cheese dog, chili-cheese burger, chili-cheese fries, and a large Pepsi…my record is three minutes start to finish).


• The world would be a better place if PWeekly had been born poor and was allergic to alcohol, long hair, and beards.
  


• The world would be a better place if I stopped writing this blog.

better in theory

30 Things that are never quite as good as they seem:

1. Doin' it in a hot tub. Or water in general.

2. Menu items described as "beer battered"

3. Grocery store food samples

4. Eating on the toilet

5. Acoustic versions

6. An assortment of saltwater taffy

7. Book lights

8. Hidden tracks at the end of an album

9. All-star games of any kind

10. Getting extra cheese on anything

11. Movies that feature Ben Stiller

12. Participating in a food fight

13. Carpooling

14. Cinco de Mayo

15. Any "Spike Lee Joint"

16. Flavored toothpicks

17. Homeland Security

18. Doing anything "tandem"

19. PBS documentaries

20. The salad-bar "sneeze guard"

21. Black V-Neck's

22. John Mayer

23. Handball

24. Bathroom attendants

25. Telling it like it is

26. Access Hollywood

27. Getting in touch with nature

28. Skits on rap CDs

29. Slo jams

30. This list.