Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--
The Prez came through here yesterday, for a day of (as my Dad would put
it) politickin'. For security reasons his arrival time was not released
to the public, but as I was driving to work I think I saw roughly one
million policemen; the place was absolutely lousy with cops. They
must've called in every available officer within a hundred mile radius,
because they were everywhere: parked along the interstate, lining the
median, cruising the streets at a low rate of speed.... It was a
paranoid's worst nightmare.
On their way to a fundraiser in a neighboring town, the motorcade
stopped at our favorite little neighborhood ice cream shop, where
President Bush hobnobbed with the locals. Early reports were that he'd
had a pralines and cream cone, but we now have confirmation that
it was actually pralines and caramel. I'll keep you updated on
this important story as more details become available.
Here's a pic. I've been to this
place literally dozens of times. I always get a single scoop of Oreo on
a cone. You know, because it's fukkin yum. They have a flavor there that
might possibly be the worst-chosen ice cream name in American history:
Barnyard Gravy. I'm not kidding. Have you ever encountered a worst one?
I bet not.
Back during the California years my friend Bill was in-town on business,
and he and I were out one evening, um, boozing. We'd already had a few
nine-dollar Heinekens at the Beverly Hills Hilton (it's a long story
that co-stars Ed McMahon), and were on the move. I was driving, and
jumped off the freeway at Burbank. I was a bit concerned about drinkin'
and drivin' but was nowhere near drunk.
And just as we exited the highway, we saw a dozen or so cops on
motorcycles, lights flashing, and coming straight at us. Holy shit! How
did they know?? Hell, I'd only had two or three beers. Wasn't this a bit
of an overreaction?! What in the brown 'n' serve hell??
But, of course, it wasn't about me. It was about President Clinton
passing through in his big ol' shiny limo with the presidential seal on
the doors. We were caught up in a rolling roadblock, completely
surrounded by police and secret service. And I don't think my sphincter
sprang open again until the following Wednesday afternoon.
Have you ever had any encounters with U.S. Presidents? Or foreign ones
for that matter. Tell us about it, won't you?
-- While driving home from work last night
I started thinking about something Ellen DeGeneres once said to Prince.
Yes, you read that correctly.... She interviewed him on her show a while
back, and I somehow saw it. One of her questions killed me, and it pops
into my head every once in a while, causing me to laugh every time.
She said to Prince: "So, do you ever, like, wear shorts?"
I love that. It ranks with two other great supposedly unscripted talk
show moments that have a way of popping into my head all willy-nilly.
Another was Tom Arnold on (I think) Letterman. He was asked about
Roseanne's claim that he has a small penis. Tom answered, "Well,
even a 747 would look small, Dave, if it were flying into the Grand
Canyon."
And many years ago Letterman had Arnold Schwarzenegger on his show, and
Arnold wanted to show a clip from his latest movie. Letterman said,
"OK. Do you need to set this thing up, or is it just gunfire?"
I don't know why these three particular comments stick with me, but they
do. There's also a Johnny Carson "Carnac" joke that knocked my
skinny eleven year old ass clean out of a chair. He held the envelope to
his head and said, "A stick of dynamite." Then he opened it up
to reveal the question, and it was, "What does Orson Welles use as
a laxative?"
I can still see that in my head, as if it happened yesterday... Good
God, I didn't think I was ever going to stop laughing. In fact, I'm
laughing right now, all over again.
Is this just another sign of my myriad mental illnesses, or does it
happen to you as well? Do little snippets of talk shows or movies appear
out of nowhere, years after the fact and seemingly unrelated to
whatever's happening at the time, causing you to chuckle like a crazy
person? Please tell me it's not just me.
-- My friend Steve called me a few days ago from a location that I don't
believe could be guessed in a thousand years.
Yes, that's correct, the
living room of Andy Griffith's boyhood home.
He and his wife Myra rented
the house where Andy grew up, in Mt. Airy, NC, and spent a night there.
Steve's an Andy Griffith Show fanatic, as am I, and told me he
wanted to do this someday. But, unlike some people I know (and am), he
actually followed through with it.
-- And I'm all out of time again. I'll leave you now with another Surf
Report-themed haiku from our old friend Lucas. This one is entitled
"Bourbon Season."
gray overcast skies
chill wind blowing the brown leaves
bourbon season starts
I'm sorry, I'm getting a little emotional here... Could somebody
please hand me a tissue? Thanks Lucas, as
always.
And you guys have yourselves a great weekend. I'll see ya on Monday.
--
The Prez came through here yesterday, for a day of (as my Dad would put
it) politickin'. For security reasons his arrival time was not released
to the public, but as I was driving to work I think I saw roughly one
million policemen; the place was absolutely lousy with cops. They
must've called in every available officer within a hundred mile radius,
because they were everywhere: parked along the interstate, lining the
median, cruising the streets at a low rate of speed.... It was a
paranoid's worst nightmare.