The Best Weekend In The Best City On Earth.

As much as I’m a chain eater nowadays, there was a time when I barely snacked. I remember my pediatrician telling me if I wanted to grow up to be tall, I’d better increase my calories. I didn’t, and wound up 5’10”.

It’s the biggest regret of my life. And I once made love to Kathy Hilton.

If I’d listened to the man, I’d be more than just a spectator at the 6-man volleyball tournament this weekend. Don’t get me wrong – I’ll still thoroughly enjoy.

I got an email yesterday from a cool dude named Duncan, who plays for my favorite team, Team Fletch. He came across my entry from last year about the tourney, and sent a nice shout-out. Duncan, by the way, hit not only the genetic but the vocational lottery; he works for ILM, George Lucas's visual effects firm. He just got back from Prague, and will be working on Iron Man 2. Bastard.

This is also the weekend in which Petey gets to make up for all the times he vomits on my bed, by being the ultimate volleyball chick magnet.

We’ll be courtside. Stop by and say hi.

New Levels Of Scumbaggery: An Ongoing Series.

After browsing through recent acting breakdowns – our version of classified ads – I would like to publicly apologize to all previously-bashed reality shows for all the times I accused them of being shamefully despicable. Clearly, I didn't know from despicable.

Your witness:

MALE LOOKING TO PROPOSE / No Union Affiliation / Featured / Male / All Ethnicities / 28-35
Searching for a male who is looking to propose to his girlfriend. Must be outgoing and willing to work two full days with no pay. It's a way to get your face in front of a huge production company.


Forget proposing via the jumbotron at Dodger Stadium, douschey, attention-deprived guys – you can do better.

And which, exactly, is more degrading: being paid to have your proposal orchestrated and filmed? Or not being paid to have your proposal orchestrated and filmed? Also, this “huge” production company you’ll be getting your face in front of is apparently non-profit.

How do I plan on eliminating all reality shows from existence? One at a time, my friends. One at a time.

Manja. Manja ‘Til You Can’t Manja No More.

There seems to be a myth in this city, mostly propagated by transplanted New Yorkers, that LA just doesn’t offer good pizza. And to these people from the old neighborhood I say kiss my white ass.

Or, for a tastier treat, head over to Enzo’s in Westwood. Just off the UCLA campus, Enzo’s is the real thing. They ship water in from the NY Water Bottling Company and make a damn good pizza.

And the place has the perfect atmosphere. Still-shots from The Godfather line the walls, mostly featuring the character Luca Brasi. When I asked the owner why, he had a very cool answer: Lenny Montana, who played Luca, was his father. Bonus points to the guy who has a framed pic of his dad being strangled at his workplace.

The Sinatra painting you see above was done for the owner by a friend of Joe Pesci. He claimed the guy finished it in 20 minutes. I didn’t delve into why speed was an essential element to fine art; a contract hit on me right now is the last thing I need.

Enzo’s offers a ginormous 23” pie, which I finished off with two friends the other day. Normally, I’m hungry every minute of every hour, but after chowing down this monster for lunch, I couldn’t eat dinner until 10 p.m.

Dammit, now I’m hungry again. If I keep hitting Enzo’s like this, I’m gonna have to get fitted for some of those Barry O. mom jeans.

Naming Wrongs.

Memo to expecting parents: be careful. Name your son Lynn, and he'd better grow up to be a hall of famer for the Steelers, or else he’s in for a lifetime of ass-kickings.

Studio execs should be just as prudent. Name a film The Ugly Truth, and you’re seriously asking for it. I did a search and found these reviews:

“The truth about it is ugly indeed.”
-Michael Phillips, Chicago Tribune

“Ugly is, indeed, the word for any comedy that manages to insult both its cast and audience with nearly every scene.”
-Elizabeth Weitzman, New York Daily News

“The ugly truth about The Ugly Truth is the fact that it could have been a whole lot funnier.”
-Amy Biancolli, Houston Chronicle

“You can’t handle this truth!”
-Lou Lemenick, New York Post

“The truth is this movie is ugly, in spirit and execution.”
-Tom Maurstad, Dallas Morning News

“The real ugly truth about The Ugly Truth is how starkly it illustrates the decline for Hollywood comedies.”
-Jason Anderson, Toronto Star

“Trite and utterly predictable? Ain't that The Ugly Truth.”
-Claudia Puig, USA Today

“If the movie had even a moment of freshness or wit or one honest laugh. It doesn’t—and that’s the ugly truth.”
-Joanne Kaufman, The Wall Street Journal

“The Ugly Truth feels more ugly than true, and predictable in everything except its level of crassness.”
-Liam Lacey, Toronto Globe and Mail

“A cynical, clumsy, aptly-titled attempt to cross the female-oriented romantic comedy with the male-oriented gross-out comedy that is interesting on several levels, none having to do with cinema.”
-Manohla Dargis, New York Times

“The Ugly Truth is ugly yes, funny no.”
-Eric D. Snider, film.com

“The Ugly Truth? That's half right.”
-Bill Goodykoontz, The Arizona Republic

“Toss this ugly-ass crap to the curb, along with the other multiplex garbage, and see a romance that gets it right.”
Peter Travers, Rolling Stone


It's official: I MUST see this film. Twice.

Festivus, Part XXIV.

When I was a baby, laying in my crib, my dad looked down at me and dreamed that someday his son would grow up to write and star in a film that was accepted into 24 festivals.

That, or become a podiatrist. Tomato, tomahto.

The D.C. Shorts Film Festival – right in my old stomping ground. It was Bill Clinton campaign advisor Paul Begala that said of Washington: “politics is show business for ugly people.” So as a guy who went to college nine miles from D.C., and now lives in L.A., I thought I’d compare and contrast:

• D.C. has the worst traffic – and tentative drivers – I’ve ever had the pleasure of giving the finger to in their rearview mirrors. The Beltway makes the 405 Freeway look like the Autobahn.

• People in L.A. energetically pursue their dreams. Everyone in D.C. seems to be waiting for their next pay increment and coffee break.

• L.A. is humidity free. In D.C., waking up in a quagmire of your own sweat is a nightly occurrence.

• Sure they’ve got monuments, but I’ll take a pass on the FDR Memorial and check out the sidewalk in front of the Viper Room where River Phoenix OD’d.

• They re-elected a convicted crack dealer. We re-elected Schwarzenegger. That’s a tie.

• D.C. Cab starred Mr. T., Bill Maher, the bodyguard from My Bodyguard, Otis Day and Wojciehowicz from “Barney Miller.” They win.

Thanks, D.C. Shorts Festival. You’re D.C. You’re Shorts. You’re fabulous.

Get Your Stinkin’ Paws On Me, You Magnificent Ape.

I may just be a guy who earned a C+ in 10th-grade math, but it seems as if the economy is starting to improve. And it’s never too early to think about your investments. I’ve personally got my eye on Jacko's hyperbaric chamber.

But even better: put all your money into Gorilla Munch cereal. Each box is the sweetest, organic combo of corn and sugar that I’ve ever had the pleasure of polishing off in one sitting (pictured above is yesterday’s breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner and dessert.)

In fact, I’m going to make a public plea to get the Gorilla Munch folks to hire me on as their spokesperson. I’m your guy – I’ve got a documented love for all things monkey/gorilla, you can pay me in cereal, and unlike my blog, I’ll really try not to be sexist, racist or perversive when representing your sugary goodness.

I just finished half a box while typing this. And I’ve got the cut-up roof of my mouth to prove it. Call me.

Jay, Buhbie, You’re My White Knight.

The casting director for “The Jay Leno Show” is a super cool guy named Scott Atwell who I pray is not a blog reader. Because if he is, he may come across someone heavily bitching about his show.

Jay’s new show is going to feature more sketch comedy, so Scott came into the workshop I attend and asked actors to bring in their own comedy scenes. By auditioning for him, I was able to both get on his radar, and challenge South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford for Hypocrite of the Year.

My friend Damien and I recreated a “Saturday Night Live” spoof of NBC’S “Dateline,” and reporter Keith Morrison. Damien does a spot-on Morrison, who’s a kooky old guy with a southern drawl that lets out titillated “oohs” as he interviews the victims of crimes. Meanwhile, I got to play three different characters. Here’s an abbreviated recap of our scene:

(I’m dressed in a shirt and nice jacket.)

ME: When I walked into the convenience store, I saw it was being held up.

KEITH MORRISON: Oh, no-o-o.

ME: One of the robbers shot me.

KEITH MORRISON: Shot you a dirty look?

ME: No. A bullet through my neck.


(I quickly take off the jacket, as Damien sets up the next interview with the next character):

ME: We had just gotten married...

KEITH MORRISON: A-a-ah...you liked it, so you put a ring on it.

ME: Yeah, I guess. At the reception everyone was dancing and suddenly the whole roof caved in.

KEITH MORRISON: Oh, no-o-o. Was that supposed to happen?

ME: No.


(The shirt comes off and I become a prisoner wearing a wifebeater):

ME: Yeah, my big thing was that I would take old dudes and kill 'em.

KEITH MORRISON: O-o-oh. Kill them with kindness?

ME: No. With an axe.

KEITH MORRISON: O-o-o-oh

ME: Then I cut 'em up into pieces.

KEITH MORRISON: A-a-a-ah.

ME: Then I grind 'em up in the meat grinder.

KEITH MORRISON: Yes!

ME: Then I put 'em on bread and eat them.

KEITH MORRISON: I guess you could say you had yourself a Man-wich.


We got big laughs and I felt great about it. And now, I wait.

Have a great weekend, everyone. The OC Fair is still going on, and today is senior day. I hear if you bring your own defibrillator you get five bucks off admission.