Please meet these former Miss California contestants

For complicated and boring reasons, I recently had the occasion to come across the Miss California website which features all of last year's contestants and all I have to say is wow. I think my favorite thing about it is that it appears that the contestants have made a concerted effort to look like the area they're representing. You know how like on Miss Universe they're always wearing their colorful native garb? Same thing.

They're also from very very specific geographic areas! Like, this is Charlotte Giustiniani, from "North Brentwood." Not Brentwood, mind you, but NORTH Brentwood:

WHOA, BRITTANY HIGH FROM LARCHMONT VILLAGE,I just got arrested for looking at your picture. Did someone offer you candy or something to come down to their basement for your photo shoot?



I gotta be careful because you know these chicks are all Googling themselves 24/7 and I don't want them to find my blog and then go "Oh, what a fucking asshole," even though I'm totally used to that.

Just a couple more, though, cause this is totally fun.

Erika Robertson is from "Honey Bee Haven," which sounds like a syndicated children's TV show. She's got a real Black Swan thing going on:



OK, now you guess one. Where's Holly Doll from, you think?



Got your guess? Ready? She's Miss East Sacramento! I know, right?

I got one more, and she's my fave. Please meet Jael Lloyd, Miss Glendale:



The headband! The peace sign tattoo! We will get high and listen to Ariel Pink on vinyl and drink homemade sangria and just have a blast. Miss Glendale doesn't care. She's down for anything.

Have a nice weekend.

The Bachelorette: More of this Bentley crap and frankly, everyone's fucking sick of it now

Like Romeo and Juliet, this season of the Bachelorette has also been all about star-cross'd lovers, although instead of the Montagues and Capulets, we have a relentlessly perky future dentist from Maine and a heavy-lidded sociopath from Salt Lake City with a daughter named "Cozy." This season has been all about Ashley Chipmunk and Bentley and we are reminded of that fact by his name coming up about 10 times in the first 3 minutes of this episode and as it turns out ABC has flown him to Hong Kong, the next stop on our Worldwide Tour, and I am hoping for a murder-suicide but will no doubt be disappointed. Instead, Chipmunk goes to see him in the hotel and I guess he sort of dumps her or something and anyway she walks away to this swelling music that is meant to make us think that she is a Soaring Bird Who Will Fly Away With Love. She also sums it up with a bleeped "fuck you" and would have come in handy, oh, THREE EPISODES AGO.

Let's get back on track now. Solo date with Lucas, who has never been to any big city, so Hong Kong should be a good start. Chipmunk must be feeling better because she's back to spouting her usual inanities like "Look at the street market! People are selling things!" (ACTUAL QUOTE, NOT MADE UP.) Very good, Ashley! What does the cow say? Then they have some dinner on a boat and he tells his boring divorce story and whatever. Why did I decide not drinking on Monday nights was a good idea?

Group date time. The 6 losers are separated into groups of 2 and then electrocuted on the beach. No, wait, I was just imagining that. No, instead they must fan out in Hong Kong and recruit people to man dragon boats for a race. A surprising number of locals have Prior Dragon Boat Experience! It must be like Rec League softball there. Anyway, then there's a dragon boat race that's about as interesting as a rerun of the McNeil-Lehrer Report from 1981. For the Night Portion of the date, we are off to some Vegas hotel-looking bar where Ames yanks Chipmunk into an elevator and does what I guess he imagines the humans think is romantic. Seriously, this guy is SO FUCKING WEIRD. He's like a bad actor trying to play someone who's uncomfortable all the time.

Solo date w/ JP. They're having dinner in "Kowloon Walled City," she thinks but I don't think so because "demolition began in March 1993 and was completed in April 1994." Oh, wait, I guess there's a touristy replacement thing. Anyway, usual outdoor dining thing. God forbid we go more than 10 minutes without a Bentley reference so she tells him all about her meetup with Bentley and JP nods all understanding-like and he's all like "Thank you for your honesty," you crazy fucking basket case. Then they take some tram up to the top of this mountain and HOLY SHIT THERE'S THAT SAME GUY FROM EVERY SUBWAY STATION PLAYING THAT CHINESE INSTRUMENT THING. You cannot get away from that guy. He is stalking us all.

Cocktail Party! Holy shit, things are busting out all over with Chipmunk and the Breastanator 5000 dress she's rocking. Lest another second pass without a mention of He Who Is Called Bentley, she repeats her fucking Breakup Story to the whole group and ABOUT FUCKING TIME instead of cocking their heads to the side and saying "Awwwww," THEY PISSED. Good for you guys! Chipmunk deploys the Girl Natural Defense Mechanism, crying alone quietly, but they ain't having it. Mickey's all "I don't know what you saw in that guy" and bounces! Good for you, man! Blake gets all pissed too but then he realizes this isn't really helping but it's too late because once you're mean to Ashley she will love you forever never forgive you. He gets cut.

Exit interview: Blake says, plaintively, "I just want a friend." Blake, you need to be on "America's Next Top SPCA Rescue" because WE ARE NOT HERE TO MAKE FRIENDS.

In which I discover the mysterious allure of auto racing.

ATTENTION FELLOW COASTAL ELITES:

I have journeyed into what passes for Middle America around here and have returned with some stunning news:

AUTO RACING IS SUPER BADASS.

Like all of us, I have made fun of NASCAR forever. I mean, who could possibly enjoy watching cars go around and around for a couple of hours? THAT'S STUPID. But guess what? It's like hockey or strippers or Bananas Foster. YOU HAVE TO SEE IT IN PERSON TO GET THE APPEAL.

Backstory: The Wife won this trip thing at work. Basically it included a night at this hotel in Santa Rosa and a big group dinner (for like 30 winners in her industry) at Johnny Garlic's, one of celebrity chef/professional irritant Guy Fieri's places, and then going to the Thunder Valley Casino Resort 200 at Infineon Raceway in Sonoma on Saturday.

So I take it that it's kind of the minor leagues for NASCAR but I don't really know anything about NASCAR so I don't know how the whole thing works. The "real" NASCAR race with the famous drivers is on Sunday and that apparently is when 100,000 people show up and I hate crowds so I'm glad we weren't going to that. ANYWAY we got to watch it from a "Tower Suite" with free food and booze and they could have fat guys racing lawnmowers and if there's free food and booze I'd watch it.


That guy in front waving was the guy who put the whole thing on. Super nice guy.

So before we were all "Yeah, whatever, auto racing" but then you get there and the cars are whizzing by at like 100 mph and it is fucking DEAFENINGLY LOUD if you're outside and I don't know, there's something really cool about the whole thing. Early on I chose to be a fan of the #6 King Taco car driven by one Luis Martinez Jr. and at one point he was in 5th place but I think he finished last. After like 5 laps, I was totally into it, against every preconceived notion I had. Being in the Tower Suite probably helped with this but maybe it's cool just to be in the stands too.



So that's my discovery! Auto racing is fun! Now, I'm not sure I'm going to turn on the TV every Sunday or any Sunday at all and ever watch it again but seeing it in person is certainly impressive. Also, maybe this isn't typical of every race but by the end those cars were all beat to shit and had major body damage and parts hanging off them and shit. YAY FOR WRECKED STUFF.

(The less said about Johnny Garlic's the better. Part of this dinner was unlimited free wine, so that part was good. But honestly, Guy Fieri, is that was real "wagyu beef," I'm a cow.)

(Also, it strikes me as sorta funny that this is the most hetero thing I could possibly have done on Pride Weekend.)

Misadventures in ocean travel, starring a no-bail warrant parolee

Think YOU'RE having a rough morning? Think again:

SAN FRANCISCO -- A parolee with a no-bail warrant was taken into custody Friday morning after authorities found him on a stolen boat that had run around on Ocean Beach.

KTVU spoke with a U.S. Parks police officer from the Golden Gate National Recreation Area who had some details about how the boat had ended up on shore.

The officer said a jogger reported the boat to park police at around 5:45 a.m. Once officers arrived, they found a man on the boat and questioned him regarding the name of the boat and how it had run aground.

The man had no answers and seemed unsteady on his feet. Authorities determined that he was a parolee with no bail warrant.

It was later determined that the boat had been stolen in Vallejo.

Officers said that it was not clear if man had sailing experience, but it appeared that he had passed out while behind the wheel and drifted for a period of time before running aground at Ocean Beach.

Every day's a good day when you're out on your failboat! (Thanks, KTVU, for the pic.)

OMG I love this story so much. I'm not sure why, but I think it's because it represents the culmination of a series of bad decisions. Back in college, we used the term SLAGIATT (pronounced just like it looks) as shorthand for "seemed like a good idea at the time." The fact that we had an acronym for that, and used it, tells you a lot about my college experience. In fact, that tells you a lot about my life experience, now that I think about it.

So you're Mr. No-Bail Warrant Parolee and you're out and about in lovely Vallejo and need some quick transpo to the city. Do you:

(a) Take the Baylink bus?

(b) Fuck that, I'm a Man of the Sea! I'll take the Baylink Ferry!

(c) I'M FUCKING STEALING THIS BOAT.

Duh. Which is more fun, riding on a boat or driving the motherfucking boat?!?

Also, this made me laugh: "Officers said that it was not clear if man had sailing experience." SIR! SIR! DO YOU HAVE SAILING EXPERIENCE? REPEAT, DO YOU HAVE SAILING EXPERIENCE?

Anyway. It's Friday. Partyin' partyin'. Partyin' partyin'.

Today in Privacy Invasion News

In today's Chron, "Stanford's top scorer suspended":

(04-06) 22:16 PDT -- Jeremy Green, Stanford's leading scorer last basketball season, has been suspended from school for academic reasons, a school spokesman said Wednesday.

Green's status for next season would not be affected, and the first-team All-Pac-10 selectee is expected to take part in the Cardinal's preseason trip to Spain in September, school spokesman Brian Risso said.

It's possible that the 6-foot-4 junior from Austin, Texas - who has exceptional shooting range - could apply for early entry in the June 23 NBA draft. An NBA spokesman would not say whether Green has applied. A list of the early-entry candidates would not be issued until the April 24 deadline has passed.

"My sense is that he will be back," coach Johnny Dawkins said.

Green could not be reached for comment. A phone message left at his parents' home in Texas was not immediately returned.

Oh Jesus Christ. Thank God they only publish this wildly intrusive information for ATHLETES and not regular kids, or else you could have opened your morning paper to read:

TK, the school's leading gravity bong user last season, has been suspended from school for academic reasons. And also for carrying an open beer into class. And also for driving his car into a ditch next to U Lot. And also for not paying the Activities Fee. And also for saying "I told you I don't do any fucking activities so why should I pay the Activities Fee." And also for maybe being the person who took Leslie's sliding door off its track and put it in her bathtub.

It's possible that the 6-foot-4 junior - who has exceptional sarcasm range - could apply for early entry into the Togo's immediately adjacent to campus. A Togo's spokesman would not say whether TK has applied. A list of the sandwiches Togo's offers was observed next to his phone, however.

"My sense is that we kinda hope he doesn't come back," the Dean of Academics said.

TK could not be reached for comments. "What the fuck - are you fucking kidding me?" a man who identified himself as TK's father said when reached at home. "Is this some kind of fucking joke? This better be some kind of sick joke. Is he there? Is he standing right there? You can tell him I have better things to do than to listen to this shit."

Charlie Sheen is my spirit animal

What's your morning routine? Get up, shower, maybe a bagel w/ lowfat chive, and so on? Mine's like that too, plus I always check on how Charlie Sheen's doing. Big night Tuesday!

Sources who were present at Charlie's house during his 36-hour party tell us ... after a man delivered a briefcase full of cocaine to the house early Wednesday morning, Charlie pulled out a small green pipe and started smoking cocaine continuously ... for hours.

There are many wild details, but we're told eventually Charlie ended up in his theater room with one of the porn stars with whom he was partying. They watched 3 hours of porn, as Charlie critiqued the action on the screen.

We're told Charlie, who fancies himself as a porn connoisseur, was questioning his companion about angles and body shots. We're told the porn star was "surprised" by the depth of Charlie's knowledge.

Hey-O!!!! You know what's fun to do with porn stars? WATCH PORN. I bet they never get tired of that! It's like watching "House" with a doctor! They're all "That doesn't really happen. It's not like that." And you're all "SHUT UP I'M WATCHING HOUSE."

So many great things about this story. Briefcase full of cocaine! Theater room! Small green pipe! Stars! They're just like us!

Charlie Sheen is just a sick symbol of our celebrity-obsessed, overly permissive culture Fuck that! Charlie Sheen just has enough cash to PARTY BETTER THAN YOU. You know you'd do the same thing if you got paid 10 million dollars per episode or whatever for your shitty sitcom!

(Unless you're a girl. Then you can replace "briefcase full of cocaine" with "Louboutins" and "watching porn" with "some other sexist thing I can't think of right now.")

But really, Charlie Sheen, where do you go from here? I mean, once you spend a whole night and the next day smoking a briefcase full of cocaine with porn stars while watching porn for three hours, what tops that? Skydiving naked with 8 porn stars while injecting cocaine into your eyes? WHAT'S NEXT FOR YOU, CHARLIE SHEEN? PULL UP A CHAIR AND TELL US ALL ABOUT IT.

P.S. Kacey Jordan? CALL ME!!!!

[UPDATE!!!!!!!!!! Charlie went to rehab. I'm not gonna lie; I'm a little disappointed. I was looking forward to SIX porn stars and 48 straight hours of partying.]

The Bachelor: Crazy Michelle Is Upsetting the Herd

Let us now rejoin Human Lump of Oatmeal Brad and his quest to find a mate. Crazy Michelle begins the show by demonstrating her suitability for the job by giving herself a black eye in her sleep. Around here, we call that I Get the Kids and the House and the Restraining Order When the Cops See This. Oh boy.

Brad goes on a Solo Date with Chantal. I like Chantal! She’s cute and doesn’t seem fucked up, so something’s wrong here. First helicopter sighting of the season! They are off to Catalina Island to have a romantic walk on the beach walk on the floor of the ocean like they’re in some cheap sci-fi movie. WTF? Chantal is terrified of the water but she gamely dons the plastic headgear and goes under and promptly drowns. No, not really. No one ever dies on this show. After that odd interlude concludes, it’s time for the classic Romantic Dinner on the Beach. Chantal’s been married before but “totally” wants to get married again. Unfortunately, Human Lump of Oatmeal is the only Available Mate within arm’s reach. STAY ALIVE CHANTAL I WILL MARRY YOU IF MY CURRENT THING DOESN’T WORK OUT.

Group date time! They’re off to appear with Dr. Drew on Loveline. Dr. Drew now has a clause in his contract where he has to appear on every reality show. Have you ever listened to Loveline? It’s kind of awesome. Every single chick who calls in was abused as a child. And then they talk about anal sex. Apparently being abused as a child is the leading cause of listening to Loveline. Anyway, disappointingly, none of Our Gals want to talk about anal lube or shooting heroin into someone’s penis. Instead, Dr. Drew lamely asks them who’s cheated. Everyone lies except for one chick. Dr. Drew falls asleep from boredom.

Off to a Hot Tub Party at Brad’s pad. Why are some chicks wearing swimsuits and some not? The Wife explains: “Because some of them think they’re fat and aren’t getting into a bikini next to Miss Two Percent Body Fat.” Brad starts having Alone Time with the chicks in like 30-second increments and meanwhile it’s getting all Lord of the Flies in the hot tub and soon somebody’s going to freak out. Britt gets the rose. Wasn’t she the one who was so uptight she wouldn’t hold hands like 2 episodes ago? Now she’s doing Personal Endoscopy on Human Lump with her tongue.

Time for a Solo Date with Crazy Michelle. More helicopters!



Where are they going? Hopefully to a State Facility where Michelle can get the help she badly needs. No, they’re landing on a skyscraper in LA and now they’re going to rappel down the side. Those helmets will certainly be helpful in a 60-story fall. Natch, CM’s afraid of heights. This should cure that.

(SIDE NOTE: Want to rappel over a steep cliff and be totally safe with no problems at all? This eHow article should tell everything you need to know. LOLz.)

Then they take a swim in the obligatory pool and she unhinges her jaw and swallows him whole. On to the rooftop pool dinner. Brad wants to meet CM’s daughter, who is apparently named either Braille or Brill. Maybe he wants to find out if the black eye thing is genetic.

Oh Christ, another meeting with the therapist? Waaaah, Doctor! Should I buy whole milk or 2%? Is Animaniacs any good? Do you like this shirt? Jesus Christ, Brad, grow the fuck up. It's a reality show, not dissociative identity disorder.

Time for the Cocktail Party. Funeral Director reminds Brad that she exists by jumping on him. Whoa, Holy Botox, Batman! I just noticed that her forehead is frozen solid. She makes Nicole Kidman look like a shar-pei. Oh no, now Chantal and her Man’s Chunky Watch are crying! Everyone’s a little emotional. It’s from drinking 24/7. Trust me.

Who gets cut? Marissa! Who the fuck is Marissa? Also Stacey the bartender and Lindsay the pre-Raphaelite first grade teacher and some other chick. Just marry Lifetime Emily and get it over with.

Here's my explanation of why professional sports are satisfying and necessary

"There's some part of our reptilian brain that needs to conquer and dominate others. It's hard-wired into us. We used to satisfy this intense, unstoppable urge by actually conquering and dominating others. But now we have evolved and don't do that as much as we used to. So, even though it would be incredibly satisfying and rewarding for all of us to march on Dallas, burn it to the ground, sew the soil with salt so nothing ever grows there again, sell the citizenry into slavery, and take their gold and HDTVs, our society frowns on that kind of thing. So instead, we assemble a team of surrogates to represent our city-state and we give them a fearsome name like 'Giants' and we send them forth to do our conquering for us. And now there is only ritual humiliation and defeat, but it's all we've got and we enjoy it nonetheless. That's why we have professional sports.

"Also, two or more guys can't sit around and drink beer and talk. There has to be something on in the background. Televised sporting events enable male friendship to exist without awkwardness."

Mad Men #8: The ether, the blindness, and then I got the goggles

Oh God this is painful watching Don write in his My Little Pony diary and having these awful voiceovers frame the whole episode. “Dear Diary, today I fucked a secretary and then went for ice cream!!!!!!! I got pistachio!!!!!!! I love Frank Sinatra.” Please, Weiner, no mas. I don’t know why I even bother with Mad Men anymore now that there’s a new season of Rehab: Party at the Hard Rock. One day I’m going to teach a grad-level seminar on Rehab: Party at the Hard Rock and we’ll talk about the symbolism of the tiki cups with the potentially sabotaged holes in them and also about Matt’s character arc. That show rules.

OK, so it looks like Don’s trying to cut down on the boozing, maybe after Pegs called him out on it last week. Unfortunately, you can’t smoke while you’re swimming or I’m sure he’d try. He’s doing laps and journaling and going to yoga now I guess. Hey, the Stones finally arrive on the soundtrack! About fucking time! Then Don leaves the N.Y.A.C. and puts on those sunglasses I WANT SO BADLY and then there’s a long voiceover about corn or some shit. NO MORE VOICEOVERS.

This episode is actually not about Don and His Boring and Trite Diary but instead about Women in the Workplace. Joey is VERY MEAN to Joan and boy is he gonna get it. You do not fuck with Joan, I am serious. Back at her place, Joan has a breakdown and seeks solace with Future Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall Inscribee Doc, who just wants to hit it. Actually, I find that hitting it really does fix almost anything, so maybe he’s on to something.

Oh, Don’s making a Life List! 1. Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. 2. Float down to the bottom of the pool just like Bill Murray in “Rushmore.” 3. Have sex with January Jones. Oh wait, that’s mine. Number 3 is mine, my mistake. 3. Buy stock in Canadian Club.

A million restaurants in Manhattan, and Don and Bethany and Cryptkeeper and Bets all have to show up at the same one. Betty sees DD and needs a gimlet stat. Meanwhile, Bethany needs more from Don. Like maybe a nickel for milk at school, because she’s about 16. CK and his buddy have some political talk, while Bets retreats to the bathroom to suck down a smoke because she’s tensed out. More gimlets, please.

Two car rides home with two different results! In Car #1, we have Bets freaking out and Cryptkeeper calling her drunk. In Car #2, we have Bethany – WHOA, BETHANY – umm, that’s some advanced shit for 1965! I didn’t think blow jobs in the back seats of cabs started until the mid-70s at the earliest, but I always knew Bethany was ahead of her time.

Let’s return to the office now, where Terminal Joey is preparing a vodka and Mountain Dew. Hey, Joey, did we go to college together? I went through a vodka and Mountain Dew phase. Actually, it was a vodka and anything phase – Coke, coke, Sprite, Gatorade, milk, water, whatever was handy. ANYWAY, this is all prelude to the Important Vending Machine Meeting that Joan and Lane have and I guess the vending machine is supposed to symbolize something but I don’t know what. Joey puts a mean drawing in Joan’s window and Joan tells all the kidz they’re going to get killed in Vietnam but they’ll just get deferments so probably not. But then Peggy, who is wearing a cheerleader skirt for some reason, fires Joey! Holy shit! He doesn’t really take it all that well. He’s kind of a dick but we’ll miss him. Joan’s pissed, though, because she had her own ways of handling that little prick and she didn’t get to do some Joan-Fu on his ass.

Don goes by the Old Homestead and picks up his boxes and Cryptkeeper is mowing the lawn like he’s in a Viagra commercial. Then he goes inside and shit, dude is fucking ripped. He’s like that guy from the Bowflex ads who’s like 55 and plays bass in a band and whatever. What do they, have Gold’s locations in Ossining in 1965 or something?

Let’s wrap this shit up. Don goes out with Faye FINALLY and they get some chianti and start making out in the cab and NOW she’s ready to give it up since she got in a fight with her BF and told him to shit in the ocean but DD’s not giving it up. Great strategy! If you don’t want to get laid, I mean. Anyway, later Don shows up at his kid’s birthday party and Cryptkeeper stares at him REAL HARD and there’s no music over the closing credits.

No Roger, so that’s an automatic 15-point deduction.

Mad Men #7: The mouse symbolizes something. I'm sure of it.

Sorry this is a day late. No, actually I’m not really sorry at all. Yesterday The Wife and I went to Red’s Java House and had burgers and beer in the sun and then we went to SF MOMA and saw the “From Calder to Warhol” exhibit which is basically just a taste of the 1000s of pieces the Fishers are donating and it’s pretty fucking awesome. Plus it was a really nice day. Plus no one ever reads these anyway. I mean, I used to get huge numbers of hits for the Bachelorette recaps and I don’t get many for the MM recaps and that maybe says something sad about Our Society and Culture or maybe means nothing at all. Boo hoo poor me.

Oh, also last night I watched Bachelor Pad and let me tell you straight up, that shit is PAINFUL. Like Grade A excruciating. And this is coming from a guy who analyzed every episode of an entire season of the Bachelorette.

OK, where are we? We’re at the Samsonite pitch meeting. The kidz want to do something with Joe Namath and it’s all very confusing and Don doesn’t like it and frankly I don’t either. How about instead we see Anson Wong shoving snakes into a sturdy Samsonite bag and then he looks at the camera and says “I’ve got a SNAKING suspicion that only Samsonite bags work for me! Get Samsonite today!”

Now we see that Duck is drinking in his semi-darkened apartment and he has sent Peggy a birthday gift, which is a business card for a made-up ad agency. Duck says he’s “falling apart” and the only cure for that is a shot of Pegs. Don’t worry, we’re going to see more of Duck soon.

So for her birthday, Mystery Fiancé is taking her to the Forum of the Twelve Caesars, which was apparently a Very Fancy Restaurant on 57 West 48th Street.

But wait! Don’s making her work on her birthday! Now who’s going to eat the Oysters of Hercules with Mark? Oh, holy shit, he’s got Peggy’s whole family there! Apparently Mark doesn’t know Peggy very well, because this is not a selling point for her. Mark’s totally giving her a hard time and Peggy’s all “I have to work late” and Mark’s all “Waaaah, come on,” and then he breaks up with her over the Black Courtesy Phone! Good riddance, I say.

Thus we begin the Night of Peggy and Don. They start out with a good fight about who had the idea for Glo-Coat and then move on to the Roger tapes. Whoa, Ms. Blankenship was the “Queen of Perversion”! Ugh, try scraping that mental image form your mind. Roger’s memoirs may prove to be unfit for public consumption. Anyway, the night continues and gets a little rom-commy. There’s a mouse in the office and then it’s gone and Don says solemnly “There’s a way out of this room we don’t know about.” DUN DUN DUN!!!! This is FRAUGHT WITH MEANING. Discuss amongst yourselves.

Off to dinner at the Greek diner. Wait a minute, Don’s not drinking. WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS? They’re having a Deep Conversation. “Oh, wow, I saw my father die too!” It’s like the 1965 version of coke talk. Then on to a bar. Oh, I like this bar! It’s like Radio in Oakland but with the lights turned up. In the past, you used to be able to see in bars. Now that’s considered passé. That’s why I keep knocking drinks over. Sort of. Anyway, is Peggy drinking a Cosmo? She’s like the Ur-Carrie Bradshaw! Holy shit, there’s a grad thesis just sitting there. Go ahead and take it.

Back to the office. Don pukes violently in the SCDP bathroom. Nobody ever pukes on this show after drinking all day. It’s actually kind of refreshing. Oh shit, here comes the Duckster! He is fucked UP. This office is like the Grand Central Station of Drunk. Whoa, whoa, whoa, Duck’s about to drop a deuce in Roger’s office! Oh, Duck. I guess the fact that you’re in the wrong office is the least of your problems. Duck and Don settle this with a good old-fashioned Drunk Fight and Pegs shows him out.

Tim to pass out on the couch. The ghost of Fake Wife appears, carrying her trusty Samsonite suitcase into the afterlife, where she will appear in a guest-starring role on “Castle,” the worst show I have ever seen, even worse than “Bachelor Pad,” even worse than that midget dating show. Anyway, I imagine this scene is also Fraught With Meaning. The good news is, Don and Pegs don’t hook up because ew.

So the next day Don’s got a fresh shirt and looks marginally presentable but Peggy’s going to have to do the Walk of Shame even though she didn’t even get any. Now it’s time for the Scenes from the Next Episode, which every week reveal absolutely nothing about what’s going to happen.

I’ll tell you one thing that’s going to happen: Next Sunday and Monday I will be Out of The Local Area and so this recap will be substantially delayed. Please direct your complaints to the Managing Director. I want to eat a rare steak and watch two men pound each other.

Who says San Francisco is expensive?

Got $450? Welcome to San Francisco!

$450 / 1br - Renting out down stairs (San Francisco)

Renting out down stairs
single large bedroom
one bathroom
one kitchen
plenty parking space

if interested, please call 415-879-1691
for English speakers, please call 415-608-8498

I like how this implies that the first number is for people who speak....what?? Your guess, I suppose.

Anyway, it's at 32 Flora in the Bayview. I think it's the one with the RV in front.




There'a always something creepy about an RV parked in front, isn't there?

But in the annals of the truly inexplicable, this one takes the cake.

$550 / 1br - Room for rent with bodybuilding (visitacion valley)

$ 550 Room for rent with bodybuilding, I have a nice 1 ½ room available, very nice place to live with laundry and stores on the same street. Parking behind gate for 1 car, I am a very easy going guy that lives a discipline life style with bodybuilding. I am looking for someone who lives straight life styles that pays there bills on time and the place is yours. High speed internet. The room is not real big but I have extra room also that come with the room that you can store a lot of things.

$550 + $50 Utilities each month
$350 Deposit

Where to begin. First of all, I'm not clear if the room comes with bodybuilding equipment or a bodybuilder. Second, there's the matter of the "discipline life style," but if that's your thing, more power to you. And I'm not sure I want to see the "lot of things" that are being stored in that extra room. On the other hand, high speed internet!

Oh shit, I almost forgot the best part! Thankfully, the bodybuilder has provided some snaps of your new room. Check 'em out!



I know what you're thinking: "Where do I sign?"

Ask TK: "Who should I root for to win the World Cup on Sunday?"

Spain.

I guess there are all kinds of boring tactical reasons that you can read about here. Personally, I've been a big fan of Spain going way back, at least to 2008. But wait, there's more.

First of all, I don't have anything against Holland or the Netherlands or whatever they're calling themself this week. I think the song "Holland 1945" by Neutral Milk Hotel is just gorgeous and perfect. (O/T but wasn't Neutral Milk Hotel supposed to get back together or something? What happened with that?) By all accounts, Holland is a beautiful and wonderful country and all that jazz.

But Spain! If I had to pick one of the two countries to live in, I think I'd have to pick Spain. First of all, which sounds better to you:

"Spain 's location on the temperate zone lends it a sub-tropical climate almost uniformly throughout the year."

OR

"The Netherlands has a maritime climate, with cool summers and mild winters."

Cool summers and mild winters I can get right here! Give me some of that sub-tropical climate almost uniformly throughout the year, brother!

Plus, I like tapas. What's Dutch food? Hutspot? "A dish of boiled and mashed potatoes, carrots and onions"? No thanks. I'll take some tortilla espanola and Jamón ibérico any day. And Albariño! I love Albariño. Do they even make wine in Holland? I can't be for anyone who doesn't make wine.


So yeah, Spain.

Walmart really is the low price leader!

Whether you're looking for some polyester clothing or maybe a meth baby:

A California couple faces child endangerment charges after police say they tried to sell their 6-month-old baby for $25 outside a Walmart store.

Salinas police spokesman, Officer Lalo Villegas, said Thursday that Patrick Fousek, 38, and Samantha Tomasini, 20, were arrested early Wednesday, hours after Fousek allegedly approached two women outside Walmart and asked if they'd like to purchase his child.

What the story doesn't say is that the baby originally cost $39.50!

Too soon?

Happy Friday, everyone! Big weekend! Pavement at the Greek Theater tonight. US-Ghana in World Cup tomorrow. The Big Gay Thing. WHEW! That's a lot of activity.

In other news, is there going to be an earthquake today? Quakeprediction.com thinks so! WTF? I thought you couldn't predict earthquakes reliably. We'll see, I guess!

America

Fuck yeah.

UPDATE: FIFA is a jerk. Here's a link to the video of the goal, which you should watch 8 times in a row like I just did: It's on Huffington Post, for some reason.

To the person who found my blog by Googling "Did soccer originate with kicking around the severed heads of prisoners?"

I don't think so.

Today's Power Rankings

Vuvuzela	▼	Is there any way we could add an annoying monotone drone to every televised sporting event?
Vuvuzela Twitter feed	▲	In the future, every phenomenon will have its own satirical Twitter feed
Gavin in Shanghai	▲	Bring me back a #23 and an order of green onion pancake
Vampires	▲♂	There has to be a "Lost Boys" remake in preproduction somewhere, right? I haven't checked, but it's gotta be happening, right?
World Cup officiating		Makes NBA refs look like…I don't know, really good refs or something
Sharron Angle	►☺	Put a little crazy in your Senate
New Bret Easton Ellis novel	▬	In other news, Bret Easton Ellis is still alive and writing novels, apparently
Treaty of Ghent	£▲	Still one of the best treaties
Lakers	▲	Kobe is the MVP. OF RAPING.
Watermelon	▲	The Miracle Food™
Oil spill	◙▼	BP has discovered an extraordinarily efficient way to move stuff that was inside the Earth to outside the Earth
Tagging the Buddha sculpture in Civic Center Plaza	▼	You people are assholes.
Jeremy London kidnapping	♣	Now me! Now me!

The World Cup, explained for Americans

Soccer is a game in which a bunch of guys kick a ball around aimlessly for about an hour and a half. Sometimes, but not very often, it goes into a net and then someone takes his shirt off. This is called a "goal" and is to be avoided whenever possible. Soccer games usually end in scores like 1-0 or 2-1, although a 0-0 tie is the best.

Soccer is very popular in socialist countries like France and Japan because you don't win very often and the game is all about passing the ball to someone else - i.e., transferring wealth from those who have it to those who don't. Plus, people fake injuries a lot and fall down, just like they will when Obamacare takes over and everyone gets all kinds of free health care they don't need. Plus, it's boring, and anywhere that's not America is boring.

Every few years, all the countries in the world call home their players from Chelsea and Man U and form national teams. Then they have a big tournament called the World Cup. Predictably enough, it's not straightforward like March Madness. Instead, you can play like 3 games before you get eliminated. Stupid. Oh, and little bullshit countries like Paraguay win all the time. Germany's really good, which figures, since they make BMWs and fascism there. Brazil's really good, too, which also makes sense because Brazil is socialist too and no one has to work and they can spend all day playing soccer instead of working. France cheats. Shocker, I know.

San Francisco is full of foreigners and socialists, so everybody here pretends to like soccer.



See, they'll even stand in front of City Hall and pretend to watch France and something called a "Uruguay" play soccer on a big TV that's far away. They're really thinking about drugs and how much they hate God.

So everybody plays a lot of these games and the US usually doesn't do very well and that's about it. Football season starts in like 2 1/2 months, thank God.

I feel like Miss USA has something to tell us but can't

I'm just giving Rima Fakih a hard time. Look, she's lovely:



I like the fact that a Shiite girl from southern Lebanon won because I hate America. And because Lebanese chicks are hot. Don't take my word for it. If you're not at work and are not easily squicked out, watch the below:



I like the music especially.

I am utterly confounded, however, (as often happens on SFGate) by this graphic that appears to the right of the Miss USA story (at least on my computer):



Miss USA is from Treasure Island? Or something? WTF?

Three totally unrelated things

First unrelated thing:

Actually, a cleanup from the Boring Travelogue that I forgot to include at the time. One night in New York - I think it was a Saturday night, but I'm not sure, we went to the theater and saw this play that was kind of meh but then afterward we walked over to 9th Avenue to get a drink. There are a ton of restaurants and bars along there but they all looked a little too loud and crowded and stuff and we wanted something a little more mellow.

So we walked into this place that had its door closed on a very warm night (WARNING SIGN NUMBER ONE). It was kind of an Irish bar. Let's call it "McFrightening's." Very dark inside. Blaring music. About three patrons at the bar. Bald, Irish bartender. The Wife goes back to the bathroom and I order before I realize that McFrightening's is not going to be the ideal place for a relaxing drink. It's more like the place where three patrons glare at you while you drink your drink as fast as humanly possible and then pay and get out. Just as we were leaving (after, say, 5 1/2 minutes) another couple came in and ordered and then we could tell they realized their mistake too. They looked at us kind of pleadingly but we were like "Sorry, you poor bastards. We can't help you." On the way out, I noticed that the enormous fucking guy at the barstool by the door had a jagged scar from his ear down his neck. I'd hate to see what the other guy looked like.

Second unrelated thing:

We got back Sunday night late and I had the day off yesterday too because I believe in always having a day off between when you get back from vacation and when you go to work. I turned on Channel 2 around 9 and Fox was showing NASCAR racing. Somewhat odd, but I figured that a race had gotten rained out the day before and that was why.

(SIDE NOTE: For the life of me, I cannot understand the attraction in watching NASCAR. I don't want to get into a whole thing about it, but it seems terminally boring to me. I understand that some people don't like baseball, which is retarded, but de gustibus non est disputandum and all that. Still.)

So I posted one of my wry observations on the Twitter machine:



HI-larious, right? Guffaws all around at the absurdity of it all. And now let's move on.

But wait! Maybe not. One "Smokey_14" is committed to fighting misapprehensions about NASCAR. And misapprehensions r serious bizness!



Sigh. I'll try to keep it on Larry the Cable Guy level from now on, Smokey_14.

Third unrelated thing:

Local free paper/front stoop litter/would-be right-wing organ/sad shell of its former glory The SF Examiner reports:

A Mega Block Party planned for North Beach that has the potential to draw thousands of unruly partyers to the troubled stretch of Broadway could bring violence and mayhem, police and neighborhood groups say.

[blah blah blah]

Recent violence in the area includes a case in which a car allegedly ran down a pedestrian while driving away from a shooting. The Feb. 19 incident killed San Francisco resident Luis Prieto.

The issue of police staffing for the upcoming Broadway Mega Block Party has police and city officials pressing nightclubs to help pick up the costs of the additional security.

The event, which is planned for May 29, allows people to buy a wristband and have total access to at least eight participating clubs in North Beach — including Fuse, Dragon Bar and Bamboo Hut — according to event promoter Papa Entertainment.

Oh yeah, this seems like a good idea. North Beach on Saturday night is already basically an Ed Hardy date rape tequila shots block party. This idea is like hanging a huge "Free Drakkar Noir in North Beach" sign in every mall in Antioch. I hope "Papa Entertainment" gets stuck with the bill for this.

The most awesomest 3-D animation recreation of the Tiger Woods thing you will see today

You have to watch the whole thing. It's only a minute and 36 seconds, relax. Why can't American TV be more like this?



I love the thought bubble over her head at about :57. WHORE!

Srsly, Tiger wouldn't be caught dead in a rugby shirt like that. When did this accident happen, 1986?