How Was I Not Hired For This Infomercial?

After boner pills, this seems like a logical next step.

Tastes Like Jerkoff.

I have thoughts of suicide, but it's mostly just hoping other people kill themselves.

My agent called me about an audition for a commercial last week, but all she could tell me was the audition address and a code-name for the commercial: “turkey.”

When I arrived, sure enough, it was called “turkey,” and I had to fill out three non-disclosure agreements. The casting director told me why: recently, an actor booked a big commercial for a company’s secret, new product, and before it was shot, he tweeted everything about his booking and the commercial’s plot. The client saw this, and not only fired him, but cancelled the entire shoot.

Must have been real kick in the shins there, huh Ace?

As a daily blogger, I understand the giddiness to share with the world a new gig, but I also realize the importance of keeping one's F’n mouth shut for a couple weeks until it’s okay to boast. Now, thanks to this shithead, my job as an actor is all the more difficult, what with code-names and the inability to research a company before I audition, or memorize my lines in advance.

Thanks a bunch, sir. You are like a giant cock-blocking robot developed in a secret government lab.

This Was Not In The Brochure.

Really, LA? Really?

Crunching The Thanksgiving Numbers.

Native Americans may have invented pot-luck, but us whiteys perfected it.

A few stats from Thanksgiving at my brother’s house:

ATTENDEES: 27
ADDITIONAL ATTENDEES FOR DESSERT: 6
POUNDS OF TURKEY: 40
PIES: 8
STRAWBERRIES EATEN BY MY THREE-YEAR-OLD NEPHEW: STOPPED COUNTING AFTER 30

Gotta run. Leftovers. Can’t blog… eating…

I Give Thanks.

Thanksgiving for me is so much more than the day we honor Elin taking a five-iron to Tiger's Ambien-overdosed noggin.

It’s a chance for me to give thanks to all the people, places and things that made my blog possible this past year. Here goes:

• My turtleneck
• Blue Man makeup on my eyeball
• Dudes around LA dressed like lady liberty
• Cobblermania
• Mexican Santa
• Nine feet of sandwich
• Nude Nuns with Big Guns
• Top-hat wearing personal injury attorney
• Ice cream dosed with dog antibiotics
• Guy out strolling in underwear with a security device still attached
• Kid who impaled himself on the waiting-room bench
• Boner pills
• Ginormous elephant poop
• Three guys I’d like to choke
• Louisiana Fried Chicken
• Cute, dancing stoner chick
• Guy sporting a toupee with the top down
• Dirty Old Mark Sanchez
• Jewish Rudy (AKA Jewdy)
• Woman who crashed through that fence

Talk About A Short Film…

In theaters now. For real.

Make It Ricky.

David Letterman said it first, and my friend Jeff and I constantly repeat it: “The thing about the genius switch is – there is no off position.”

Which is why my idea for a coffee table book featuring wedding photos of now-divorced couples is going to be a #1 best-seller. It's a guaranteed laugh on every page.

It’s also why I fully believe that when ABC names the host of the upcoming Oscars, if they don’t bring back Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin (who I both love and think did a hilarious job) the guy they need to choose is Ricky Gervais.

Did you catch Ricky at the recent Emmys? He’s made for these events – poised, yet willing to bash fellow celebrities, and the name of the winner.

Yep, there you have it: another gem from a brilliant mind. I wish I could give myself a Gatorade bath.