Shumway...Nola Shumway... I like my olives garish and I hate martinis!

Nola was recently asked to be involved in the first major meeting at the new administration's white house. Dressed in her Sunday best, she skipped over to 1550 Pennsylvania ave, kicked in the front door and scared some little old lady half to death. She then skipped over to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, kicked in the door and then kicked the secret service agent in the shins after being told she could not bring in a razor blade. "It's not for them, it's for me, I promise." No luck, razor blade-less but full of joy and cheap beer she proudly took her place at the table alongside some of America's most beloved leaders and also some of America's priority targets. As his first order of business, Barack (he enjoys being called by his first name, he's just like everyone else) brought a few great men, some swine, and Nola together to finally solve the problem that has been plaguing the country for several years. Now, they told Nola no audio recording, but Nola doesn't like to be told what to do... The following transcript is what took place on January 21, 2009 in an undisclosed nondescript office in the White House.

Barack: Young Lady, Gentlemen and Kim Jong Il, I would personally like to offer my gratitude that you all agreed to be here today. First, let me say that everything said in this room today is completely confidential and also will ultimately have little affect on my decision. With that said, I want to make it very clear- I do not want any of us to leave this room until we've come to a solution....I believe it is an absolute necessity to create a playoff system in the BCS.
(Medvedev is seated next to Putin in a kiddie chair. Putin whispers to Medvedev who responds to Obama)
Medvedev: BCS?
Nola: You can remember it by thinking-Beslan Children's School. (to Putin) Right Vlad? May I call you Vlad?
Medvedev: Who is this annoying child? Can she please be disposed of?
(Putin whispers to Medvedev something inaudible)
Nola: Maybe I remind him of one of the little Beslan kids. Shame. I know...
Joe Pa: Are we going to get back to football soon?
Barack: (smiling) relax Joe we'll get to it. (shaking sound is heard, sounds like ice)
Kim Jong Il: (to Putin in perfect Russian) работая на новой игре. Я полюбил бы для вас прочитать его.
Barack: Ah, Kim, or may I call you Yuri? (Kim smiles and nods) Yuri, I am so pleased you could make it. I know that you have not been well.
Hugo Chavez: All lies published by the Americans.
Nola: (pours from a shaker into a glass, hands to Putin) Red Bull Vodka, Vlad? Can Medvedev have one?
JoePa: (to Barack, looking over at Medvedev and Putin) I think they're gonna stop it cold.
Chavez: Relax Mr. Paterno, (laughing) it seems you might be paranoid. Maybe you're getting a little to old for this kind of thing. Have you ever thought of retirement in Venezuela?
JoePa: (angry) Okay look asshole, I'll go when I'm ready to go, and you of all people can certainly understand that. We're talking football, let's talk football.
(shaking sounds)
Putin: I don't see value in changing old system. Keep computer system and fudge numbers. That way your best teams always get in no matter how much they lose.
Nola: (to Barack, handing him a drink) Black Russian, O?
Barack: Ah, thank you Nola. (raises glass) In honor of our great countries coming together once again! I really think you're on to something Vlad. Let me ask you, what do you think about strength of opponent being a factor? (Mevedev starts to speak, Putin hushes him)
Putin: Russia has never factored strength of opponent. Why should America?
Nola: Hey Vlad, about that, if you haven't the interest in the strength of the opponent I was wondering...
Putin: (finally smiling) yes, my child...
Nola: Hows about you invade and occupy America? Then the English can liberate us! And my sweet Prince Harry will march with his brigade into my city and rescue me and we'll finally be together. Whadda ya say, Vlad?
Madoff: (joining from satellite) Why don't we just make all the teams pay money to get into the playoffs?
Barack: (trying) Yes, but then how long would the playoff season last?
Madoff: Well, we only have an eight team playoff.
Barack: ...rrrright...well thanks for joining us Mr. Madoff.
Madoff: Oh, please, call me Bernie.
Barack: No thanks. (to Nola) Cut his feed.
Nola: sure thing.
Mr. No on 8 spokesperson: Mr. President, first of all I would like to say thank you so much for having us here. We are honored. But I would like to point out that you are about to make a very hypocritical decision. After all, tradition is the reason we homosexuals are not allowed to properly proclaim our love for one another. Traditionally marriage is between a man and a woman and you have made it clear that you support that tradition...
(Nola starts making a cocktail)
Mr. Arab: Man with man is disgusting and should be punished.
Nola: Sex on the Beach, Mr. Arab?
Putin: She's funny, no?
Arab: She would be killed for less where I am from.
Barack: She is protected here.
Mr. No on 8: excuse me... I was talking...
Nola: (hands drink to no on 8) Cosmo?
Mr. No on 8: bless you child, now as I was saying, Barack, it would be a huge mistake to change this football thingy when you already came out (Nola laughs) against changing the laws so that gays can marry.
Nola: (goes over to Kim Jong Il) What is your play about?
Kim Jong Il: You speak Russian?
Nola: (whispering) I kinda have a bit of a crush on Vlad. I thought speaking his language would give me a better shot. And, don't say anything, but I'm trying to get him drunk. So...the play? Kim Jong Il: (suddenly animated) Well, it's about a little boy who dreams of joining the Russian Ballet only to be kidnapped and sent to a very poor country. He eventually escapes and finds a boy who looks just like him to take his place. No one notices that he has ever left.
Nola: (handing him a cocktail) That's sweet, Blow job? ...Wait, we gotta do it right. Hugo, let Kim take a blow job from your legs. (looks over to Barack) I love hanging with our enemies!
Or I guess we can now say....Frenemies!!!!
Barack: Okay, so far we think a playoff is a good idea? Or we think it is better to just leave it as a tradition?
Chavez: You know who I always liked? Nixon....
(JoPa flies over the table about to deck Hugo Chavez)
Chavez: (running from the table) it's the only time in your history that your country made any sense to me!
Barack: Gentlemen, gentlemen.
Nola: (leaning into the Arab) and so I said "Jesus, come down from that cross, I want to pick a fight with you"
Mr. Arab: (laughing) You....you...you would die so quickly in my country....but i think you're funny.
Nola: If you liked that one you'll love this .... I was walking down the road one day and I saw Muhammad laying on the side of the street with his head stuck under a VW bus-
Mr. Arab: (stands up and pulls out sword) Infidel! Dirty slut! You'll die by my blade!
(Putin gets up in a flash and disarms the Arab with lightning speed, throws Arab to the ground and walks over to Nola, who has been thrown on to the floor. He grabs her hand and leads her back to the table.)
Putin: My child.
Nola: My Prime.
(They smile, staring at each other)
Chavez: (out of breath and circling the table, running away from Joe Paterno) Why not propose playoff system like you want and cut off funding to schools who don't agree.
Nola: Guys...guys... and Kim... It's simple, playoffs, like O wants, and we break it into brackets. First bracket we call One Dumb Game.
Pete Carroll: Thank you Nola.
Nola: Don't mention it. It's basically the bracket for the teams who have one really stupid retarded mind blowing ridiculous loss to a crappy, unranked bad team...
Pete Carroll: That was harsh.
Nola: (Nola turns to Pete) You needed to hear it. Spritzer? (hands to Pete) Anyways, then we'll have the "Football Country" bracket. All the teams from football country will play within this bracket.
Putin: (with his hand on Nola's thigh) I've never heard of...this...Country of Football?
Nola: shh...it doesn't really exist, but we like to humor them. They lead very very dull lives otherwise... Okay, next bracket is called "They lost nothing to Nobodys" which will include your Utahs...Hawaiis, Boise st..etc.
Barack: Nola!
Nola: I'm sorry, O, Hawaii is not a force to be reckoned with! You need people around you who will tell the truth.
Barack: You're right, go on..
Nola: Finally...we'll have the BCS computer number ones and twos bracket. So that is four brackets with eight teams, all representing the dynamics of college football that make it sometimes irritating. Problem solved! They all play each other to find the eventual champion.
Mr. Hamas You can't just create brackets!
Mr. Israel: These brackets don't exist!
(They look at each other and smile)
Nola: They agreed! They're in love! This calls for a drink! (Nola furiously shaking cocktails)
Nola: (hands to Mr Israel) Gazakame? (and then hands Mr.Hamas a drink with a shot inside) Car Bomb?
Barack: Nola!
(Mr.Hamas and Mr.Israel start to laugh with each other, clink glasses act as if they will down the drink and then dump the drinks out over their shoulders)
(amidst the cheering and celebration Vlad walks over to Nola and leans over her shoulder and whispers into her ear.)
Putin: Nola, if you come to Russia I will make you my princess.
Nola: (blushing) But I'm eight. Wouldn't we get into trouble?
Putin: (laughing as he scoops her up into his arms) You are such a silly girl...Do you know how silly you are? Yes...you'll come with me and we''ll live well.
Nola: We'll vacation in Thailand. We won't be bothered.
(Nola walks toward Barack, he leans into her ear)
Barack: Perfect. We'll be in touch my Sweet Pretty Young Nola....
Nola: Tell your girls I'm going to miss them. They have to come visit okay.
Barack: Definitely.
Nola: Hey, O, what are we going to do about the BCS?
Barack: Oh...well, I guess we'll just take the Championship out of it and call it what it is...BS.

A lightbulb went on! Don't worry Al - it's CFL and full of Mercury!

The other night i witnessed some truly disturbing behavior: apparently there is an organization, Idea Blob, which, as far as I can tell invades a bar with mostly non drinkers, sets up a microphone and encourages slightly awkward self labeled entrepreneurs to divulge their cutting edge ideas.
First Ridicio up said it was his idea "to create a search tool that gathered information based on the word you typed (muffled) the computer." I didn't have the heart to tell him that the Internet had already been invented by a guy named Al Gore. Or so I've heard.
The next guy came up with a great idea for an online dating service that MATCHed people based on their compatibility. The big twist? Breakfast dates! So basically his idea is to legitimize the one night stand. We all know the drill, the breakfast 'date' you have with the man the night after sleeping together too soon; You want him out of your apartment fast and then you want to make sure he kinda thinks you're a quality girl. So, his idea is Match.com for whores: Snatchmatch.com. Sounds kinda lame to me.
The only great idea of the night came when the host said "well, i think it's time to wrap this up".
"Brilliant!"
I left pissed (drunk and slightly annoyed), feeling left out, I must confess. I wanted to stand up there and share all the thoroughly bad, offensive, and all together great ideas I've been keeping up in my mental filing cabinet. So by golly, whilst listening to Dolly, i have written out the ideas I plan on sharing at the next meeting. I hope you loathe them, despise them, crack up at least once and then want to punch me in the face after. (Blog about my pathetic desire for a black eye to follow) 

1. Even I'll admit it: I've gone too far this time.

We've got starving children all over the third world waiting for someone to send money. The Christian Children's Fund does their best, but I feel like they are missing their target customer- Child Pornographers. I propose a new sponsor program for those disgusting-middle aged-white -male-mid level management types. You send us fifty dollars a week and we'll send you a photo of a naked child just waiting to be sponsored! Each month thereafter, you will receive an updated naked photo of the child you are sponsoring! Also, if you make a lifetime commitment to the program, and we're sure you will, we'll allow you to sponsor up to five children! Then you can receive group photos of your naked children. Afraid of the law? Not to worry, we have it all covered! Our lawyers are standing by ready to argue your case. After all, it was our very own government that taught us that crime isn't really crime at all, so long as you are marginally helping the people you are perpetrating these crimes against! So act fast! The cute kids are the first to be sponsored! You don't want to end up with a Sri Lankan do you?

2. Segregation Never- Discrimination Now!

We all agree that segregation is a terrible terrible terrible thing. And one should never be discriminated based on Race, Creed, Color, Orientation, etc. But one most certainly should be discriminated against based on taste! I propose we readopt a class system for all things social. Let us start with the movie theatres! The way this works is that every year you are given a questionnaire based on your tastes. After you answer the questionnaire you will receive a class A, B or C license determining which types of films you are able to get into. 

The questionnaire would look something like this:

1. Do you like to eat popcorn while you're watching a film?

2. Do you like to eat popcorn one kernel at a time?

3. Do you enjoy Will Smith movies?

4. Do subtitles make you sleepy?

5. Do you think it is okay to talk during a film if it has subtitles?

6. Is it ever acceptable to talk during a film?

7. Are children ever necessary at film with a rating of PG?

Okay! Time for the results! 

• If you answered no to questions 1-7, congrats! You get a Class A license and can appear or disappear from any film and any theatre you choose. Indies, foreign, comedy, drama etc..

• If you answered yes to 1, 4, 6 and 7, sometimes to 3 and no to 2 and 5, well then you get a class B license! This means you are entitled to see studio blockbusters, comedies starring former SNL members, comedies by M. Night Shalulu, but must stay out of art houses, away from Indies and absolutely away from Foreign Films!!!!

• If you answered yes to questions 1-7, here is your Blockbuster card- congrats. You should not see films in public. 
  

3. Operation Cockroach drop!

We hate em, the Cambodians eat em. The U.S. has an image problem, and Cambodia could use some tasty snacks. I say we boost our humanitarian aid efforts and send over all of our unwanted cockroaches. (Unfortunately OJ will have to stay here, too big for the crate that cockroach) And the beauty of this is that if we send five thousand cockroaches over in a crate, by the time it gets there we will have sent fifty thousand cockroaches. I think I'll have Madoff chair this operation!

4. Politicians cut a rug like politicians cut the budget!

I think everyday the New York Times should be required to run a picture of a high ranking politician- dancing! And it should be accompanied by a really snazzy headline! Some examples:

Barack me gently, Barack me slowly.

Bush it, Bush it real good.

Al-Gorhythm

Joe bi-den, Joe Bi-dah, life goes on.....

DON'T WORRY KIDS, I HAVE MANY MORE IDEAS TO FOLLOW... NEXT TIME I'LL SOLVE THE HUGO CHAVEZ PROBLEM, TACKLE HORN HONKERS, AND FINALLY GET TO THE BOTTOM OF WHAT IS GOING ON WITH BOB COSTAS' HAIR....

CIAO KITTIES......

It's going to be the Grrreatest Great Depression Ever!!!!!

Why so sad Kiddies? Impending Grrrreat Depression got you blue? Buck up (ugh, hopefully) it’s not the end of the free world. It’s the end of the free world as we know it. But I for one being a born again democrat am choosing to see this glass of rationed milk half empty! Oops, I mean half full. Wait a minute, is it half full or half empty? Whatever. Which ever one is supposed to be the good one, I’m that one. So stop the w(h)ine and let’s get you into better spirits. (Man my jokes are grrreat)

Speaking of jokes…. In dire times people are willing to laugh at almost anything. This means the following comedians are going to get a break once the depression really kicks in: Dane Cook, Carlos Mencia, George Lopez, Any female comedian who opens with a joke about her uterus, and Jeff Garland (p.s. Jeff- Yeah, I know in terms of comedy what a ‘callback’ is, what I meant was sometimes a callback means you’ve run out of new jokes. So there! )

The effects of the Greater Depression will first be seen in the Orange county area. With money for frivolous luxury no longer in abundance, women will start to look like the witches in Stardust:

Yellow nails where there were once white-tipped smoothed acrylics.

Mousy brown hair with white streaks will rule where once highlights of honey, caramel, platinum, honey-caramel, and platinum honey strands were queens.

With nowhere to tan and no money to tan with white girls in Orange County will again look like (gasp) white girls- not oompa loompas.

Eyebrows will now be done by the eyebrow owner. This will result in scary, but finally, completely unique designs above the eyes.

A Russian analyst named Igor has predicted that the U.S. will break into six regions. That’s good news! We’re the new Europe! And now when people ask you go right ahead and say “I’m well traveled. I’ve been all over the No longer United States of the Occupied Americas.”

And entertainment is going to be awesome! Actors, artists and filmmakers rejoice! The depression is going to be great for us!

During hard times people like to see fun and entertaining films. This means ta-dah: The return of the water musicals! Remember those great water musicals with synchronized swimmers and splashy actress divers? So fun. (Hey, Micheal Phelps, you want to be an actor don’t you? Because two weeks of you in a skintight swimsuit is not enough.)

The model turned actor dude in your acting class will finally be able cry. I mean, sure he’ll be crying over the loss of his looks (he’s from Orange County) but he’ll finally be able to cry and as any acting teacher will tell you (say it with me) “that’s a good place to start from”.

Actresses!! We’ll finally get a diet we can stick too: Famine!

And depression brings on the drinking so you know what that means! Our jobs are secure!! Tips! Tips! Tips!

And chin up- There will still be acting work. Films were already being written about the war before boots hit the dirt in Iraq, so before the first body flies out of the thirty fifth floor office of Goldman Sachs you can bet that a struggling writer is penning your big break: Depp Repression- A film about a man who steps off his thirty fifth floor office balcony and into the world of Johnny Depp’s childhood memories only to wake up thirty five hours later on a film set. “Johnny, we’re ready for you sir………

There is no L.A. Story.....

Remember the good ol’ days when Los Angeles was an interesting city that captivated the world? Hollywood films were made in Hollywood, Charles Manson and his crazies had us bewitched, ugh, transfixed in front of our televisions? There were the Zodiac murders, which got this eight year old thinking about her astrological sign. Race riots in Watts captivated a nation in the sixties and not to be outdone, L.A. of the nineties with a little help from Rodney King, reminded us that no, we (still) can’t all just get along. Burning and looting followed, and soon we saw one Reginald Denny cursing the day he decided to be a truck driver. (Later he would remark that he should have used the waiting period for receiving his truck operating license to research other job opportunities)

Gone are the days of old. We simply don’t muster the kind of attention the other big cities do. Even O.J. has decided to take his “alleged” indiscretions elsewhere. The crips and the bloods have called a truce, and, for the most part obeyed, with most members settling down to retire and write children’s books. L.A. is in her twilight years, settling down to take a long nap. We’re boring. Our traffic situation isn’t even the worst. We’ve got nothing to compete for “best-worst-big-city-full-of-tragedy-of-the-year-award”. The only legitimate shot we have at winning the award is entering with the ‘hey, we have immigration marches!’ But when New Orleans has Katrina and Chicago has Kanye West (if anyone disagrees with this as a tragedy I beg you to take a look at the song ‘good life’ and let the line ‘I’m salty... Lawry’s nigga’ assault your ears, and then tell me he is not a tragedy) and New York with the ever so popular 9-11 lifetime entry, it’s going to take something more than a little immigration rally dust up to get us noticed. My proposal? Stop trying! Let us, let ourselves (Angelinos) be known as the “Sleepiest Peaceful Little Big City in the World with a Disneyland!”

Now it seems to me the only people who haven’t gotten the memo about L.A.’s retirement are the local news anchors, reporters and L.A. Times writers and photojournalists. So I, being a sweet and gentile person, have decided to resend the memo reminding these offenders of their offenses and offering gentle suggestions on how to correct any further problems.


See below attached memo.



Memorandum
To: KTLA, KCAL9, KABC LA, KTTV, FOX 11, John and Ken, 1070 news radio….
CC: LOS ANGELES TIMES and staff writers
From: Nola Shumway
Date: 11/18/2008
Re: You are all retarded and need to abide by a newly imposed Stay of Reporting.


Confidential


The state of Los Angeles –

· No one is interested in the goings on of Los Angeles unless your subject is a celebrity and that celebrity is on drugs. TMZ and a very mean man named Perez Hilton handle all Celebrity related material so please do not bother looking for that story.

· We’re on the D list of celebrity cities. Huge disasters just don’t happen here anymore. So when something like a fire, or an earthquake or a Metrolink crash does happen, please don’t play it up like it’s the biggest thing to happen here since the nineties; it’s makes us look like pathetic attention whores.

Recent troubles in reporting-

· Sticking a microphone in the face of someone who has just lost their house, or just been pulled out of a derailed train and asking “how are you feeling?” is not going to win you the George Polk excellence in television journalism award. It is however going to make you look like a cold, heartless wretch. P.S. If you stand next to a smoldering house and ask someone how they are feeling, you just look incompetent for having to ask the question.

· Announcing on live television that neighbors whose houses were not burned down must feel guilt that they were spared and their neighbors weren’t isn’t going to get you that anchor job at CBS, NBC yes, but CBS no. It will on the other hand encourage that “spared” neighbor to drink heavily, now feeling the guilt you put into his head and out to the nation. Not to worry though, you’ll get a story out of this in six months when you do the follow up and after a heavy night of drinking the neighbor guiltily comes to the door (the only door left in this ravaged neighborhood) in his bathrobe and you stick the microphone in his face and ask him how he is feeling.

· Stop sweating the small stuff. During the Los Angeles (hiccup) earthquake, reporters turned a little bitty thing into a huge national ordeal just by talking! Reporters on TV. with national anchors said things like: “yeah, I was sitting in my chair when I felt the ground shaking and I thought about maybe getting up and running into the doorway” Stop! You’re over reporting! If you have time to think about what you might do during an earthquake, well then that’s not really an earthquake. It’s an earth-shake, and not worthy of “breaking news” status. Certainly not worthy of interrupting Oprah- which you did-.

· On site reporters: if you have to wear a fire retardant Ralph Lauren blazer so that you’re camera ready and safe- it means you’re too close to the fires. Go away! Report from somewhere safe, like, I don’t know, your studios? There is no point to being right where the “action’ is. And remember ‘action’ is an offensive word when used in response to a tragedy. Let’s seem sympathetic to the poor people involved for at least twenty four hours.

· Stop using the following words: Major, total, sweeping, destruction, massive, Chaos*

· In regards to the chaos remark so commonly used with the Metrolink “disaster” it has been reported (wink) that most of the chaos was caused by reporters interviewing victims before emergency medical technicians could give treatment causing a chaotic atmosphere reminiscent of a Terry Gilliam film set. We have come up with the following acronym to assist you in sequence of response should another disaster occur: D.E.A.R.G.O.D!: Disaster, Emergency, Assistance, Reporters-Get Only Dafacts!

Problems in photojournalism-

· Stop embellishing and doctoring photos! I’m talking specifically to LA Times and the bloggers here. In the picture below, used by the Los Angeles Times, we see an example of the great destruction of the July 30, 2008 earthquake.


The problem? It’s a set up. Why are there paper towels in the juice aisle of a super market? Where did they come from? This looks like an obvious attempt to stir up hysteria about the little earthquake that couldn’t. In the future, if there isn’t anything to report-don’t!

Plan of action:

Proposed Stay of Reporting:

It has become clear to me and others on this board that the news organizations are guilty of sensationalizing the news at the expense of those involved in what truly are tragic and disastrous moments. We the citizens of Los Angeles in order to protect our fellow Angelinos propose that all news organizations, papers, bloggers etc. abide by a 72 hour Stay of Reporting. Speaking for the board I feel it is not such a great thing to ask of them, after all, waiting periods are part of everyday life. We as citizens must endure waiting periods before obtaining a marriage license, gun permit, truck operating license, legal status. As adults we are encouraged to wait for a few days before calling after a first date (one of the waiting periods I will never understand! But alas...). We wait to argue, feeling that in the event that a cooling off period takes place it may save us from saying things we don’t mean. And this is exactly my point. I understand that you as journalists don’t intend to seem silly, or frivolous, or worse; insensitive rambling fools in it to make a name for yourself. Sadly, this is exactly what you sound like when you report on events “as they happen” Give it up! No one is that interested in L.A. as a spectacle anymore. We don’t need to see the minute to minute details of the pain and anguish our fellow Angelinos are going through. Let them have their disaster and grieve and be sad without having to surmise what they feel while they are standing in front of their smoldering house! Back off! Let them breathe. I propose three days. Fires in Montecito? Thanks for the info, in three days I will sit down and listen to a reporter with some perspective and calm talk for more than thirty seconds to Mary Angelino about the heartbreaking loss of the house she has lived in for forty years.

No to the same old, same old. Yes to the same same, same same!!

Jules Winnfield speaks out against Prop 8: “What you gotta do is ask yourself ‘Is there some bad shit out there we ain’t lookin at? Is this bad shit badder than the shit I’m bout to vote against? And if it is badder shit, then shouldn’t we be out there worryin’ ‘bout that shit? I mean you got motherfuckerin kids settin some homeless motherfucka on fire for kicks. Motherfucker don’t even have a dollar for ice cream and these little badasses set him on fire. And you wanna tell me God is worried about two motherfuckers kissin’ up in his church? Love ain’t ever bad shit, man. The baddest shit is that love ain’t tolerated. We tolerate some fucked up motherfuckers. I mean my auntie Janisa once got into a fight with a church lady. razored her face. And now she’s up in that church every Sunday prayin’ for crazy bitches such as herself. I love my Auntie Janisa. I don’t think anyone should ever razor a face but I love my auntie. And if motherfuckers are worried about too much fuckin up the ass, it’s cuz they did it and liked it, more than a bitch.”

Wedding planners speak out against Prop 8: “I for one am very tired of planning straight weddings. Bor-ring! I’m tired of lying to the bride about her hideous color scheme.”
“ I’m tired of dealing with pregnant brides who can’t keep their emotions in check.”
“ I’m tired of having to dress up a venue that doubles as the ‘church’ and reception hall. “I’m tired of brides who buy from outlet malls."
“I’m tired of BRIDES! Give me grooms. Grooms who have taste. Grooms who have well behaved children as their flower girls- not their own daughters born out of wedlock- which explains the quickly thrown together wedding!"

Henry Hasten of Statistically Speaking Magazine speaks out against Prop 8: “Statistically speaking, the sanctity of marriage is in danger of slipping into dangerously low approval ratings. With one out of every two marriages ending in divorce, people are starting to question the validity of marriage. The best way to improve the stats of marriage is to allow an influx of marriage. What we need is a marriage surge! So unless there is a surge in unplanned pregnancies, the only other option is to allow gays to marry, ugh, statistically speaking.”

Ted Haggard (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ted_Haggard)speaks out against Prop 8: “I now believe that God would want us all to be happy and be able to have conjugal visits from the man of our dreams.”

Not so nice, Nola speaks out against Prop 8: “Some people argue that gay marriage is detrimental to society. I don’t agree, but, let’s just say I did (which I don’t) but if I did, I would have to say that there are a few (thousand) more pressing detriments to society. And all, save one (see if you can spot it) are accepted and legal in America; no questions asked- and by questions I mean put to a vote- …. I’ll list just a few: Michael Jackson (Yeah, I said it. Just like Katt Williams: Fuck Michael!) . Roman Polanski. Americans who finance everything. Kids having kids. Scientology. Religion. Fast food. Straight men who just want their mothers. Straight women who let men have their mothers. Girls that don’t say no. Fat girls who put down skinny girls. Skinny girls who put down fat girls (Girls, fat and thin, we must unite! We must fight the true enemy: Fat and skinny boys!) Reality shows. Rockstar. Oscar De La La La LA Hoya and his music career, The lack of any regulations on bands in L.A.- why is that just anyone can start a band? Myspace. Facebook. Mustaches, CNN, MSNBC, The View, Tyra, Dog Strollers, Malibu (Barbie, city, liquor) Words such as-Chillax, like, stoked, fubar, fupa, muffin top. PDidddy, Sean Combs, Puffy, People who don’t take off their Bluetooth devices, boys who think they are great in bed, boys who call girls ‘opinionated’, women lying about size not mattering (it does! It matters how small our waist is and how big your dick is!) Jaegermeister, Men calling women sluts on Halloween because they have finally dressed up the way men have been hoping they would dress up all year!, Dr. Phil, Oprah’s book club, The Jonas Brothers, small children, Food Network, Herpes, Hugo Chavez, Kim Jong and his creepy demeanor, a quarter of the governments in Africa, Half of the South, most of California, Songs like Grillz, The thong song, and any song that starts with Diddy proclaiming ‘this is the remix’ . Any food sold as an “ultimate bowl”, Chris Matthews, Katie Couric and Bob Costas’ new little boy Frankenstein looking hairpiece, people who honk their horns more than once a week.
The list could go on forever. It’s all bad. We are alllllll baaaaadddddd. We are probably all going to hell, in a hand basket, woven no doubt by Oscar De La LA La La hoya!
But gay marriage is our BIG problem? How can we single out gay marriage as the flaw in an already much too kinked chain? Like Jules said- “way badder shit out there than people lovin on each other”
I say gay marriage, just like Obama, might just be change we need. Everything else in America is f’ed. Maybe we should start with the reinstitution of marriage as an institution of love, faith and commitment. Heteros have had their crack-Let’s see what the gays do! I for one think it will be fabulous…. and if not, it should have been!

Dedicated to all my gay friends, in and out of their closets, everywhere!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And just so that i'm completely clear- HoneyBunny speaks out against Prop 8: "NO ON 8 OR I KILL EVERY LAST MOTHERFUCKIN'ONE OF YOU!!! "





(CONTINUED FROM ABOVE BLOG (NO TO THE SAME OLD, SAME OLD, YES TO THE SAME SAME, SAME SAME):

EXIT POLLS, SOAPBOXES and FIREARMS! Don't it smell like an election.......

Asked outside of his polling station in Bell Gardens Precinct 123672aa how the vote went, Jules had the following response: "Vote? Motherfuckas wouldn't let me in the mothefuckin community center. What kind of motherfuckin community center got metal detectors. And why are those motherfuckers on during an election? What? Is a motherfucka gonna run up in his own polling station and shoot up some motherfuckas votin for the same shit? Little woman over there wouldn't even let my ass through the door. No on eight, Motherfuckas."



We caught up with one of our wedding planners making a mad dash to her car outside the Manhattan Beach polling station and she had this to say: "I wasn't registered! Can you believe that? I've been so busy registering these stupid, idiotic brides at Target, I forgot all about registering myself. (looks at watch) Damn. And now I have to get all the way out to Encino in an hour to pick up some doves for a six o'clock wedding. I'm not going to make it! Bye, (shouts back as she runs off) Please vote No on 8--I hate doves!!!!!!!"



Henry Hasten, sitting on the curb outside his downtown polling station, had this to say: "What were the odds that they would have lost my mail in registration. I mean the odds were in my favor. I know they were. I suspect this has something to do with an interview I gave to one Nola Shumway a few days ago. No on eight. Statistically speaking, we still have a chance."



Ted Haggard speaking from Sacramento State Prison: "I had no idea we weren't able to vote. I'm hopeful though. I'm leading prayer tonight so I'm going to have to cut this short. No on 8! It's never too late to come out in support of that which is your truest nature. And god loves everyman!



Wait a gosh darn sec! You mean to tell me, or more appropriately, I mean to tell you that not one of our Fiesty ferocious do gooders voted on Prop 8?

Wait! What about Nola? Where is she? Where's Nola?

We now join Nola Shumway at her polling place somewhere in the vicinity of Pico and Robertson on the westside of Los Angeles...

We find Miss Shumway standing in the center of a local community center, on a hand painted crate that says SOAP screaming into a megaphone: "And let me tell you sum'tin else!!! Anyone who has ever benefited from civil rights legislation owes us a vote. Any lame ass comedian who has pulled out a gay joke for an easy laugh owes us a vote. And for that matter, for poisoning the world with your stupid comedy, you owe us a two vote minimum. Any man who's ever said 'That's gay' owes us a vote. You all owe us a vote and today we collect! Ain't that right HoneyBunny? No on 8! Pay up you freeloaders!!."


Nola is immediately escorted outside and we catch up with her just as they are about to put her in the squad car. "Okay, okay, maybe the soapbox was a little much, but come on! You're telling me this shirt (Nola is wearing a grey shirt that reads "it's okay to be an ass today") is a problem? What, Is it against the law to try to persuade voters at the polls? (Nola is told it is) Fine, but in my defense it's not like that lady isn't doing the same thing. (camera pans over to a slightly overweight woman who is reading a tabloid, drinking a McDonald's latte and humming a Rascal Flatts song.) She should be escorted out as well! She is just as obviously trying to persuade voters!" (Nola is tucked into the car and as they drive away she screams silently through the back window no on eight, no on eight, this is an injustice, I'll say hello to Ted for you......."



So kids, what's the moral of this very convoluted story? The moral is that it is not enough to be passionate about a cause. You have to act. VOTE! Vote because Jules, Wedding planners, Henry, Ted and Nola didn't.


But what about HoneyBunny? Where in God's hell is that H.B. (heinous bitch)

Oh- your story teller forgot-- HoneyBunny didn't vote. She was busy filming a reshoot for her last scene in a previous blog:

On a sound stage somewhere in the Valley HoneyBunny enters polling station and with guns out screams at the frightened voters: "everybody vote no on eight or I execute every last motherfuckin one of ya...........

Exit polls, firearms and soapboxes! Don't it smell like an election?

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS BLOG (NO TO THE SAME OLD, SAME OLD, YES TO THE SAME SAME, SAME SAME)........

Asked outside of his polling station in Bell Gardens Precinct 123672aa how the vote went, Jules had the following response: "Vote? Motherfuckas wouldn't let me in the mothefuckin community center. What kind of motherfuckin community center got metal detectors. And why are those motherfuckers on during an election? What? Is a motherfucka gonna run up in his own polling station and shoot up some motherfuckas votin for the same shit? Little woman over there wouldn't even let my ass through the door. No on eight, Motherfuckas."



We caught up with one of our wedding planners making a mad dash to her car outside the Manhattan Beach polling station and she had this to say: "I wasn't registered! Can you believe that? I've been so busy registering these stupid, idiotic brides at Target, I forgot all about registering myself. (looks at watch) Damn. And now I have to get all the way out to Encino in an hour to pick up some doves for a six o'clock wedding. I'm not going to make it! Bye, (shouts back as she runs off) Please vote No on 8--I hate doves!!!!!!!"



Henry Hasten, sitting on the curb outside his downtown polling station, had this to say: "What were the odds that they would have lost my mail in registration. I mean the odds were in my favor. I know they were. I suspect this has something to do with an interview I gave to one Nola Shumway a few days ago. No on eight. Statistically speaking, we still have a chance."



Ted Haggard speaking from Sacramento State Prison: "I had no idea we weren't able to vote. I'm hopeful though. I'm leading prayer tonight so I'm going to have to cut this short. No on 8! It's never too late to come out in support of that which is your truest nature. And god loves everyman!



Wait a gosh darn sec! You mean to tell me, or more appropriately, I mean to tell you that not one of our Fiesty ferocious do gooders voted on Prop 8?

Wait! What about Nola? Where is she? Where's Nola?

We now join Nola Shumway at her polling place somewhere in the vicinity of Pico and Robertson on the westside of Los Angeles...

We find Miss Shumway standing in the center of a local community center, on a hand painted crate that says SOAP screaming into a megaphone: "And let me tell you sum'tin else!!! Anyone who has ever benefited from civil rights legislation owes us a vote. Any lame ass comedian who has pulled out a gay joke for an easy laugh owes us a vote. And for that matter, for poisoning the world with your stupid comedy, you owe us a two vote minimum. Any man who's ever said 'That's gay' owes us a vote. You all owe us a vote and today we collect! Ain't that right HoneyBunny? No on 8! Pay up you freeloaders!!."


Nola is immediately escorted outside and we catch up with her just as they are about to put her in the squad car. "Okay, okay, maybe the soapbox was a little much, but come on! You're telling me this shirt (Nola is wearing a grey shirt that reads "it's okay to be an ass today") is a problem? What, Is it against the law to try to persuade voters at the polls? (Nola is told it is) Fine, but in my defense it's not like that lady isn't doing the same thing. (camera pans over to a slightly overweight woman who is reading a tabloid, drinking a McDonald's latte and humming a Rascal Flatts song.) She should be escorted out as well! She is just as obviously trying to persuade voters!" (Nola is tucked into the car and as they drive away she screams silently through the back window no on eight, no on eight, this is an injustice, I'll say hello to Ted for you......."



So kids, what's the moral of this very convoluted story? The moral is that it is not enough to be passionate about a cause. You have to act. VOTE! Vote because Jules, Wedding planners, Henry, Ted and Nola didn't.


But what about HoneyBunny? Where in God's hell is that H.B. (heinous bitch)

Oh- your story teller forgot-- HoneyBunny didn't vote. She was busy filming a reshoot for her last scene in a previous blog:

On a sound stage somewhere in the Valley HoneyBunny enters polling station and with guns out screams at the frightened voters: "everybody vote no on eight or I execute every last motherfuckin one of ya...........

How much is that doggie (stroller) in the window...

An animal can be considered an accessory only if dead. If not it’s considered a hostage.
--anonymous quote from small dog living in the
vicinity of Beverly Hills (everyday)


“I’m going to have a puppy!! Yay! I’ve been artificially inseminated by my Vet. I’m registered at Petco!”
--Anonymous quote from an idiotic girl living in the
vicinity of Beverly Hills. (March 15th 2011)

Mark my words: It’s coming. Pretty soon women will just start giving birth to their dogs. They already clothe them, buy them necklace collars, pierce their ears, take them everywhere, and (the final straw) push them in strollers. Specially designed strollers, for dogs. Great! Because the last thing on earth a dog wants to do is go outside and get some exercise. I will allow that some dogs need a stroller. Old dogs. But owners of dogs too old to walk have survived for years on a quality device that doesn’t cost 200.00 dollars: Radio Flyer wagons. Let me also point out that no self respecting old fart dog would be caught dead in a pink stroller. I don’t even think a poodle would go for it and everybody knows that poodles, and their owners for that matter, have no taste. So why would someone buy a dog, especially a young able bodied dog, a pink stroller? Attention: “Look at me!! Look at me!! Aren’t I adorable?” The answer is no. You are actually really sad and pathetic. Here is the deal with dogs and babies, ladies. Babies need strollers because they cannot walk. Toddlers need strollers because they become easily tuckered out and need a rest from time to time. Dogs (especially those little yippy ones you all seem to have) want to walk! They actually like it! Wait, scratch that. They loooove it! And you know how yippy they are? Do you know why? Because they are like little meth heads locked in a pen and unable to move. And all they want is a toothbrush so that they can clean the walls. They need to get rid of all that energy! It’s very sad. Sad, because I imagine when the dogs get home from their stroll they pout around the house. This causes you to believe the dog is depressed. Damn Skippy—Skippy’s depressed. But you think it’s psychological so you take him to a pet therapist when really you are the one who needs the therapist. What you really want is attention and love. But you don’t want the full commitment of raising a child. The next best thing is an animal. But just like raising a child, it isn’t about what you want or need, it’s about what they want and need. And if they have at least three legs they want to run free! They need to run free! Haven’t you seen the mighty dog commercials? Please don’t abuse your dogs ladies, because that is what you’re doing when you put them in a stroller. I mean, how would you feel if someone kept you from your daily Yoga class?