Road Hard: The Wrap Party.

Last month, I shot a role in Adam Carolla’s new film Road Hard, and last night I attended the film’s wrap party at Adam’s warehouse. Adam was in an especially jovial mood. I think he’d had a couple of bowls of loudmouth soup.

There were unlimited servings of Mangria, Adam’s exclusive fortified wine. Possibly fortified with ruphies.

Adam is a car-guy, and is also producing a documentary about Paul Newman’s racing career. Adam owns and races many of Paul’s cars, and stressed that his only rule at the party was not to touch his shit: “Unlike the BET Awards, I have a metal detector set up for when you leave, bitches.”

Whoops I Accidentally Spilled A Whole Lasagna In My Mouth.

Mezzomondo, Studio City. Best you’ll ever have.

This Week In Texting And Driving.

Hey – I totally know that wonderful eggplant-and-peach emoji exchange can’t wait until you’re home.

But this accident happened right next to me. (The SUV slammed into the Mustang.) I realize taking a pic while driving is counterintuitive to my point, but it was for educational purposes. Let’s try not to kill anyone next time.

My 2000th Entry.

Holy crap 2000! Sometime soon they’ll all be screaming my name… at the Jamba Juice because my order will ready and I’ll be checking my phone.

Dubious achievement notwithstanding, as is custom, I’ve picked my five favorite entries from the last 100:

I Record My First Ever Vlog. A four-time all-star, three-time World Series champion, Rookie of the Year, Cy Young Award winner calls me. Or as I refer to it: Tuesday. Watch me gush a bit much here. 

Booked It. Finding out you booked a role is even better than sex. Unless it’s a role in porn. Then it’s just confusing. Come be my fluffer here. 

I Shoot My Role In The Film Road Hard. A movie set is like Disneyland for adults. Without it costing 96 bucks to get in. Get in line for the Matterhorn here. 

Sheila Shevin Comes Out To The Coast For A Mother’s Day Extravaganza. Whores, smacking kids, Jews, Hitler. My family hasn’t forgotten the true meaning of the holiday. Group hug here. 

I’m In A Comedy Short. I fully believe in asking a father for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Unless that father is Liam Neeson. Or this dude. Witness his particular set of skills here.

Can’t Three Fellas Film Themselves Peeing Without Someone Calling Security?

Apparently not. Thanks for busting us, narc.

Once Again, Out-Of-Context Thank-You Notes I’ve Recently Written To Casting Directors.

• Car windows should be upside down so they actually cool off my body instead of ruining my hair.

• Great minds think alone.

• My confidence is at an all-time medium.

 • Just conceived a new sexual position called “the uncomfortable Jew.”

• Can someone’s face be a pet peeve?

• Donald Trump and Guy Fieri walk into a bar. Let’s get the heck out of here.

And Demand Shall Set You Free.

I was shocked to walk past the gluten-free market in Burbank yesterday and find that it had shut down. Even more shocking is that we didn’t all die from our gluten allergies back when we had no friggin’ idea there was such a thing as a gluten allergy… Good news: I did some serious spring cleaning. Bad news: spring of 2006… According to a Brazilian soccer name-generator, I will now be known as “Mildo.”

Wigs Today.

They have no respect for their elders.

Some Phenomenal Friends. And Pretty Kickass Desserts.

You can buy a birthday cake if it’s not your birthday. Those dipshits don’t even check your ID.

Or a smattering of desserts. My friends Gary, Aina and Bru were nice enough to join me for dinner for a belated celebration of my birthday. We went to Laurel Hardware, the hardware store turned kickass restaurant in West Hollywood, for one of the best meals I’ve had in a while.

What began with watermelon drinks for four ended with us splitting butterscotch, bliss cake (made with quinoa), buttermilk panna cotta and the hands-down favorite: dark chocolate brownie with hazelnut ice cream:

Thanks guys, for helping me get the whole notion of “best” friends.

A Sweet Childhood Memory From Rob Lowe.

I think it’s about time we get honest with children about how they’re bad at most things.

Rob Lowe went on to become a massive talent (a couple years ago he was appearing on three different TV shows at once: “Parks and Rec,” “Brothers and Sisters” and “Californication”) but he needed a little help making it on TV as a child in Dayton, OH. Here’s what he recalled in Stories I Only Tell My Friends:

My dad arranged for me to appear on a local cable-access kids’ show, “Clubhouse 22.” I’d watched it for years and loved the host, a hip guy named Malcolm and his sidekick, Duffy the Dog. Walking into the television studio, I feel an electric charge I still get sometimes today. The bright lights, the smell of paint and freshly cut wood, and the thrilling disconnect between fantasy and reality. 

On the air, I help Malcolm and Duffy the Dog pick a prize-winner from the mailbag and am shocked when Duffy later removes his giant dog head to reveal a very beautiful blonde woman. (Years later, when I discover that my dad had been secretly banging Duffy the Dog, I don’t think I was ever more proud.)

Proactiveness Is My Middle Name. My Other Middle Name Is Todd.

On first day in the hospital, kick the ass of the sickest dude in there.

Be the man no matter what. Nobody will care about your career more than you. In the past few weeks, while TV shows are on hiatus, I have been writing, shooting and editing my own projects more than ever. A lot of momentum goes a long way.

Walter Matthau once said, “All you need in this business is seven or eight really big breaks.”

Take A Knee, Ladies.

My friend Michelle gave her husband Mark a punching bag with her photo taped to it. It’s the best Father’s Day gift ever, and the second best way to relieve a man’s tension.

Mic Side.

Once again, I was asked to do the PA announcing for the local kids’ Super Bowls. Turns out there’s crying in football… Time Warner is doing something surprisingly customer-friendly and sending me a free, new modem that will be six times faster. Until now, prisons had faster Internet than me… Congrats to my friend Mike, a big-shot in the Kings front office, who for the second time got to hoist (and get his name engraved on) the Cup:

And, in the middle of a barrage of well-wishing exclamations on his Facebook page, allow me to post this once again:

I Know Who I’m Rooting For In The World Cup.

Mexico. Because when they’re playing, the freeway is mine.

May Your Weekend Be Slightly More Epic.

Three guys walk into a club. They pretend to hear each other for two hours and then go home.

Unless they’ve got kickass visuals. I was working in West Hollywood this week as a huge, decadent, million-dollar party site was being erected. It turned out it was being thrown by Maxim to celebrate the Hot 100 Women of 2014.

No expense was spared. Including 40 valet parkers.

But my favorite aspect of whole affair was that an uninvited V. Stiviano showed up, and the bouncers told that skank to beat it.

Optimism.

I prefer to see this piss jug as half full.

I’m In Another Comedy Short.

"Blood Diamond" - watch more funny videos
If I ever meet a woman who says my name with the same passion in which she says “pumpkin spice latte,” I’ll marry her.

Until then, I’ll strictly play a fiancé on film. And I did, in the second of the series I shot last year called “Claire and Greg.” The first was posted on Funny or Die a few weeks back, and had 46,000 views the first day alone. Above is the second short, entitled “Blood Diamond.” If you like it, visit funnyordie.com and simply give it a vote. It’s my kind of process – noncommittal.

No Animals Were Harmed During The Filming Of My Latest Short.

But a tie really bit the pipe.

I Make A Wish.

My sister-in-law’s birthday party was really fun and featured a sweet gent in a bowtie who served food and booze, lit candles, etc. I’m praying he becomes my new nephew… After my cable froze sporadically during both the Belmont Stakes and the hockey game, I’ll pay anyone out there to dress like a Time Warner employee and let me hit you with my car… Went to Glendale Tap on Friday, which was originally a motorcycle repair shop. Free pool, peanut shells on the floor, and, if you’re lucky, you might get killed with a tire iron “Sons of Anarchy” style.

RSVPing.

It’s a big birthday for my sister-in-law today, and yes, Simine, I guess I’ll go to your party, but answer the next question VERY CAREFULLY: will there be a cheese tray?

This Week In Texting And Driving.

I saw four accidents this week, but only snapped pics of a couple of them. In the fan-fiction I’m currently writing, these two are dating.

More From One Of The Best Showbiz Books Around.

Seeing a couple being affectionate makes me hopeful that one day I will meet someone who will hate them with me.

In his book, Stories I Only Tell My Friends, Rob Lowe delves into his days as a single man. While promoting a film in Paris in 1986, he was asked if he’d like to meet Princess Stephanie of Monaco, the super-hot 21-year-old daughter of Grace Kelly. He was driven to her apartment, where she greeted him in jeans and a t-shirt and they instantly fell in lust. He put his life on hold, extending his stay in Paris and spending every moment with her, just working out, eating at cafés and sleeping over.

When he returned to the U.S., Stephanie came to visit him, and asked him to help her host the Princess Grace Foundation Gala in Dallas. At the event, her dad, Prince Rainier, a gruff old dude, avoided Rob, and Rob became determined to engage the man. Here’s an excerpt:

Near the end of the evening, I look to the head table. It’s late and the men have congregated together, as have the women, who are off somewhere. I see Gregory Peck, Robert Wagner, Cary Grant and Prince Rainier, and approach the group. 

“Excuse me. I just wanted to say goodbye and thank you for letting me be a part of a wonderful evening.” 

Rainier grunts and nods, the rest offer warm goodbyes and I head out. 

Then, when I am almost out of earshot, I hear my future Austin Powers costar Robert Wagner say, “Ya know, guys, I think that kid’s banged every one of our daughters.”

First-Day Dailies.

The last time I answered a Craigslist ad, I inadvertently starred in a snuff film.

So this time I’m shooting my own script. It’ll take a few weeks, but so far I’m really happy with the scene I shot on Sunday. Filming a comedy during golden hour on the best beach in California – good thing those khakis feature a roomy crotch.

And for anyone who wonders why I’ll never move back to New York (besides it being the most overrated city on the planet): I live 200 yards from where I’m standing in this shot.

Horrifying Or Hilarious?

Both.
Mickey Finnz, Redondo Beach.

Beach Formal.

I shot a beach scene over the weekend for a new comedy short. The shirt and tie were wardrobe, so no, I wasn’t dressing like a director from the 1930s. If I were, I would’ve also been wearing big, puffy riding pants, boots and a beret while holding a megaphone. By the way, what was the deal with those pants? Why did directors and Nazis who didn’t ride horses wear them?