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My mom is now running a wedding reception center in London. It's the same place where a big rockstar friend got married and I had to spend her whole wedding day in her bridal chambers documenting it all.

Too much estrogen.

My balls shrank to microscopic levels.

My mom didn't own it then, nor did she own it when I got married there way back when. She has become quite an avid art collector having commissioned a whole room of paintings that looked like old Daniel Boone postcards. In each painting there were at least three bearded men, one of which was an obvious likeness of me. At first glance you'd think I'd be flattered, but that's just because you don't know my mom. Those paintings are her way of trying to explain to the world that there are famous men with beards, it's the only way she can deal with her shame, you know, by trying to validate my existence though the accomplishments of beard-os past.

Ew, marriage.

Why do the gays want it so much?

It's as if they are demanding entrance to a leper colony, you know, just cuz it's exclusive. Equality does require equal stupidity I suppose.

Speaking of gays, I don't know why I always feel so compelled to drag some gays out of the closet. I get really annoyed with closet gays. They aren't helping anything.

I called out half my Mormon mom's staff. And then we got robbed. One of the robbers was wearing one of my favorite suits. Guess he stole it. I would have been pissed but I have to admit he did look sharp.

Anyway, I snuck out of the robbery and made my way to the old wedding breakfast nook where I snacked on fish, hot dogs, trail mix and donuts.

At the airport coming home I ran into one of my best friends from high school. Apparently I did something to make him think I'm an asshole because he had no interest in talking to me and was obviously pissed. Or maybe that's just they way pilots act. Nevertheless my feelings were hurt.

Glad to be back from London.

Point is:

You gotta fight 4 your right 2 B RETAAAARRRDED!

Now Natalie:

That's all for now,

Don't get caught doing a Naked Lady Sale on Vetrans Day.

Your Assistant Manager In Charge of So Much Important Stuff You Can't Even Believe It,

Your Name Here

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Found out that falling asleep during a Woody Allen movie results in the ability to do a perfect impression. Too bad the only person entertained by a perfect Woody Allen impression is an old roommate who I hope I never see again.

I was trying to sleep but I could hear the sound of a TV coming from below my bed. Nobody lives below my bed, that's where the garage is.

When I went to investigate, I discovered that someone had installed an entertainment center into my garage door. Must have been one of those garage door makeover shows because they actually did a pretty good job, the final result looked a bit like a jet engine covered in old bakelite wall receptacles.

They also installed a very powerful fan. Not necessary.

While I was down there I noticed that I have terrible noise leakage, if you were to stand below my window you would probably be able to hear me farting in my sleep, and I'm NOT a loud sleep farter.

Time to break out the can of expanding foam.

BTW how cool is that shit?

Also, why not just combine it with aerosol cheese? Hello instant massive cheese puffs. Hello a billion dollars.

Later on when I was trying to sleep, a really creepy girl wandered in to my room totally sleep walking. She was a complete stranger and other than totally giving me the standard sleep walker willies, she didn't seem to mean any harm so I didn't try to wake her up. I gently guided her to the front door and sent her on her sleepwalky way.

This whole city is basically sleepwalking anyway.

Don't judge.

Point is:

I'm the Potential Willi Wonka of SAVORY Snacks.

Now Natalie:

Here is some video proof, aided by Frederick Van, that I can and DO sometimes turn off my normally very Barry Whiteish voice as to be more like a commoner. LINK. And HERE is More Proof, as aided by Rollertrain, that I haven't a clue how to shut up in an interview. LINK

That's all for now.

Don't get caught constantly reminding the old roommates that THEY MOVED OUT AND CAN'T KEEP STAYING HERE.

Your Favorite Memory From This Blog Post,

Expanding Cheese Foam In a Can

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I took a long helicopter ride yesterday to see all the oddities up near Provo Canyon. Below all the people on the beach were waving at me and throwing things at the helicopter. I reached out and caught some of the garbage they were throwing. I caught a toaster, a shoe and a bowl made out of candy. I couldn't tell if people were happy or angry. People have very strong feelings about people in helicopters.

My favorite part of the ride was the close up view of the mountain side -- turns out the entire mountain is made out of shoes. Willi Wonka certainly had a hand in all that business. Why else would the whole world be so billowey and tent like? Kinda hippie if you ask me.

Later on I was telling a really huge boobed/assed pretty girl I know that she had an absolutely beautiful face which she took to mean that I was calling her fat so she decided to punish me by taking off all of her clothes and smothering me with her puffy vagina and gigantic boobs. I pretended to be annoyed but she smelled really good and who really hates slippery jiggly things? I mean as long as you don't have to walk on it, right? Although walking on a big sheet of labia skin might be kinda fun -- I'd probably want to run and slide on it like one of those yellow plastic water slide deals.

If I ran the world, sidewalks would be made out of labia skin and everyone would walk to work.

See? I just saved the world AGAIN.

Later on at the awards banquet, my best friend from high school who is now super fat, super mormon and super litigious got kicked out for slapping the asses of the waitresses. I'm telling you, Mormons are fuckin pervs man.

I got my hair permed all afro style because I am a clown.

Now Robyn:

That's all for now.

Don't get caught robbing the black man of his soul and putting it on your head as a joke.

Your Most Recent Excuse To Kill Your Kids,

Post Party Depression

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So I decided to trim my beard really short. I did a terrible job. I looked like a 1990s Kenny Loggins with cancer for a minute.

Went wandering though some souvenir shops in a really janky town up the coast. One of them had barrels and barrels of real stuffed penguins, or so I THOUGHT. Some of them were stuffed but the rest were alive. Don't ask me why they all stayed put in their boxes and barrels, I tried to coax some of them out but they were all apparently perfectly happy to be for sale to tourists. I suppose it also had something to do with the fact that they were bred right there in the souvenir shop -- you could buy them at any stage of development, from egg to old dead and stuffed.

Not such a bad life I suppose.

Anyway, I was tempted but I really don't need a penguin so I bought some 100 year old overalls straight out of the dryer. NICE.

Later I was hanging out with a bunch of corporate stiffs who behaved accordingly and quizzed me about my finances/ When I told them I haven't had a JOB since 1991 they looked sorta dumbfounded but mostly bitter and jealous. So stupid though because it's not like I was bragging. I'm just simply unemployable is all. Fake authority makes me violent.

Anyway when I got home I went into the kitchen and there was a big black rat taking a nap on the casserole I made earlier. He looked so cute all snuggled up I couldn't bear to wake him. As I went to turn the light back off, it heard me and opened one eye. Man that rat was sure comfortable because it didn't even get up to run, it just rolled over for me to scratch his belly. Truthfully, had the casserole been big enough I would have crawled right in and snuggled with that little motherfucker. CUTE!

Maybe I live in a Pixar movie.

Point is:
All authority is fake unless you've got a gun.

Now Kelly Kate:

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So a diamond is just carbon placed under extremely high pressure right? Isn't everything made out of carbon? What about making diamond out of -- oh, say, a dead pet or loved one? Seems like they could make a counter top machine that could make anything into a diamond. You know, like a toaster. I know at least three people who would like a diamond made out of a turd.

Speaking of diamonds and turds, I must go on record as having NOTHING positive to say about Tyra Banks, but certain opinions have risen to neutral in recent days.

Turns out her aunt lives in Springville Utah and is good friends with a friend of mine. Tyra keeps a room and spends a significant portion of the summer there.

Long story short, I was invited over for for a BBQ, Tyra was there, she gave me a tour of her attic bedroom. The ceilings were so low a person of average height could not even stand upright. Tyra painted the floors all girly, and while I wasn't impressed with the design I was impressed that she did it herself. I mean you gotta give her SOME credit for sleeping in a cramped attic all summer and painting her own room right?

Anyway, as things seem to go in my life, the people I like least, like me most.

This licks ass.

Why do people gotta rain on my hate parade with their long awkward hugs? Yeah, you heard me right, Tyra gave me a really long, really awkward hug. She even inhaled while putting her face in my neck. YES SHE WANTED TO HAVE SEX WITH ME IN HER TINY ROOM BUILT FOR MIDGETS! IMPOSSIBLE TO BELIEVE!

I didn't allow it to happen, I might have, but she had a really cute cousin there and I wanted to keep my options open. I make stupid mistakes like that ten times an hour so big deal.

Tyra also had a fake amputated leg with a seventies suede sneaker on it and she made that herself too. She gets a couple of points there. Right?

Also, did you know she is half Japanese? Well she is. Look at her bellybutton if you don't believe me. It's sorta saggy but definitely slanty.

Anyway, The whole time we were upstairs her aunt and some dude that looks like Jesse James (might've been him) were allowing a couple of traveling salesmen to give their pitch. They were saying all kinds of bullshit about hundreds of pounds of impacted fecal matter trying to sell everyone on some expensive counter top enema/rooter equipment. I shouted down some skeptically inspired Google search suggestions to the subjects of the pitch, but they REALLY wanted to believe the salesmen. I mean who DOESN'T want to believe you can lose 40 pounds of turd matter just by putting a hose up your butt?

Oh yeah, Tyra gave me 3 antique watches. Something tells me they are fake. Point is: If you're gonna be full of shit, why not sell a machine that deals with exactly THAT?

Now Scarlet:

That's all for now.

Don't get caught name dropping Tyra Banks when it very well couldda been an unrelated half Japanese girl with loose stomach skin, since you really might'a been drunk at the time.

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Vikram Chatwal - 1/2 Billionaire Former Playboy Sikh Hotelier Takes 0 Calls While Enjoying a Burrito & Ice Cold LA Tap Water in Loaner Mickey Mouse Boxers & Patriotic Turban on a Filthy Dollar Concealing Mattress in Room 111 of The Hollywood Premier Motel

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