How novel, a crazy guy named Norman

I'm a little weirded out at the moment.

Feeling the pain of watching Los Doyers cough up a loss to Arizona, I flipped the TV over to a documentary about plastic surgery called Youth Knows No Pain.

About five minutes in I about feel off the couch when a plastic surgery enthusiast named Norman appeared on the screen.

(Now for a little back story)

Last year on some random day I got a random phone call about performing in a pilot for a new stand up comedy series. I thought it was a little odd that someone would be shooting a pilot without having gone through the trouble of booking any talent first.

Going in, I had a hunch that it would be a rather strange evening and I wasn't disappointed. Just a few hours earlier the show without any talent had managed to become overbooked and moments after arriving I was asked to hang out during the taping just in case.

So I fixed myself a dinner of Oreos and pepperoni slices from the craft services table and grabbed a seat in the wings. Over the course of two hours, I received a clinic in how not to produce a show. The whole thing was just a disaster but on the bright side there was a guy in the hired studio audience who provided endless entertainment because he was one giant, bizarre Jack Nicholson caricature. This is pretty much exactly how he looked that night.

Little did I know I was sitting in the presence of the plastic surgery enthusiast I was now watching on the TV. Norman Deesing is his name and the fact that he resembled Jack Nicholson wasn't a coincidence. In the documentary, he confessed to having plastic surgeries in order to look more like Jack. And if that wasn't enough the kook is a school teacher (!) who's now world famous- at least according to his wife/publicist.

Then again, who am I to talk shit? He was the one on HBO tonight and I was the one watching at home.

Good times.

Whoa, where'd the week go?

Um, so yeah, kinda lost track of this week. Had some good times and hung out with some good people.

Here's a lil' montage.

SATURDAY

Hey son, wadayasay we throw on our wigs and go to the Dodger game?

Really though I can't hate. They could be doing something so much worse for a Father/Son activity such as going to the park to throw rocks at ducks or heckling survivors down at the Museum of Tolerance.

Still, I gotta give the kid a 25 percent chance of ending up like this guy.

SUNDAY

49, 000+ people went to the game and I was the only one to make use of the super secret bike rack.

MONDAY

Nothing like using a piece of public artwork as a Steel Reserve receptacle.

TUESDAY

An apocalypse is always a good way to spice up a Tuesday.

WEDNESDAY

Getting ready to make the funny.

THURSDAY

I've got five bucks for anyone who can translate this.

FRIDAY

Got a new Twix hook up. Heck yeah.

Well, that was certainly random.

A little earlier tonight I was on the couch watching Los Doyers play the Cubs while keeping an eye on the clock. Had to run a vital errand over to The Grove to pick up a DVD of Eastbound and Down so that a friend will be able to keep laughing his way through chemo.

The moment Russell Martin broke the game open with a grand slam I was out the door. Had a nice little pedal over to The Grove and it took all of five seconds to realize why I don't like going over there. It's not that there's too many people, it's that there are too many assholes crammed into one space. I quickly lost track of how many times I was bumped into or had a toe stepped on but I did remind myself to pack a taser the next time I work up the courage to go there.

The way back was a completely different story.

I was barely out of the parking garage when I crossed paths with a small squad of Midnight Ridazz kids. I assumed they were going to swarm The Grove and add a dash of excitement to a Thursday night but I couldn't have been more wrong.

Apparently they were out and about escorting lone cyclists home and I was one of the evening's big winners.

A few of them explained what was going on and they were completely serious about following me home. One of them asked my name and for simplicity's sake I threw out my alias Bobby because Todd is a name that never makes sense among a throng of people.

"Your name's Ted??"

"No, Todd!"

"Pat??"

"Todd!!!"

"Steve??"

Even Bobby didn't work because word made its way to the back of the group that the lucky guy being escorted home was named Tommy.

Hilarious.

There's a whole bunch of cyclists following me, I swear.

See, I wasn't making stuff up. *

It took a few blocks to warm up to the idea of being escorted home by a group of strangers but by the time the ride came to an end a couple miles later, I felt like an ass for not having the foresight to have enough beer in the fridge for random occasions such as these.

Next time we meet though, we'll crack a few and have a little party out back.

Thanks for the ride. Hope y'all made it home safe.

And here's a bonus photo that's in focus. Imagine that.

*During the ride, one of my escorts asked if I had a blog. When I told him what it was called, Unicorn magic took over, hence the silly poses. Talk about flippin' sweet.

I know the economy is rough and all...

but did David Hasselhoff really have to downgrade all the way to a Nissan Altima?

So does KITT speak jive now?

At least Super Pursuit Mode is still there. I just wonder how well she handles on 12 inch tires.

Sorry Florence and Normandie...

You're no longer the most dangerous intersection in Los Angeles.

1992 Rodney King Riots

There's a new Sheriff in town called the corner of 1st and Hayworth. Before you get your panties in a bunch and ask how an intersection so close to the Grove/Farmer's Market can be so dangerous, allow me to present this as evidence.

Your eyes aren't messing with you. You're looking at a giant tramampoline set up a mere three feet from a very sharp and pointy fence. By the looks of things one child has already been impaled but there are plenty of opportunities for a lot more death.

Can't wait to see what happens when its owners go away for the weekend. Guaranteed every kid in the neighborhood has this yard under 24 hour surveillance and the moment the coast is clear Trampoline Holocaust 2009 is a go.

Kids are drawn to to trampolines like moths to a light so you know this is gonna happen.

If you ever want to bring a lawn chair so you can post up and watch the carnage unfold, the Trampoline of Death can be found here:

Would you expect anything less from the daughter of a guy named Billy Ray?

Check out the blond version of Grimace above Miley's leg. Gnarly.

Because I'm not a teenager, I neglected to watch the Teen Choice Awards last night. Apparently Miley Cyrus won the award for Biggest Teen Skank Since Britney Spears and celebrated by taking the stage atop an ice cream cart that had been tricked out with a stripper pole.

I'm all for ice cream and strippers but really, if Miley's riding the pole at the ripe old age of 16 there's not a lot of room for shock value later in life. If it's a stripper pole at 16 can we pencil her in for going on a Cheeto fueled rampage of crazy at 19?

In the meantime, I'll just cross my fingers and hope puberty gets the best of Miley and she ends up looking for like her good ol' dad Billy Ray.

I don't know if it's just me but I swear they're starting to look more and more alike with each new season of Hanna Montana.

This week in Text Messages

The following messages found their way to my phone over the course of the last week. Thankfully not a single one of them was from my dear mother.

so my friend at work found a camera and turned it on and there is video of a dud waist down, jerkin off and coming all over the place. fucking hilarious.

Can the shamwow hold 10x its weight in jizz?

just got stopped in denver airport cus there was a pbr in my backpack. and i'm wearing a shirt that says "touch of class."