LA Comedy Writer

While sipping my morning Starbucks, I took notice of a little yorkie being approached by a humongous great dane. The dane was thrilled to see such a little dog. His tail was wagging fast enough to create a nice breeze on me, fifteen feet away. Now, the dane probably weighed in at about 80 pounds or so, and the yorkie about 3, but I was fascinated at how happy the great dane was, just to see another of his species. I gave it about a half a beat’s thought, and figured out that must be a “dog” thing. I mean, if I was just wandering around an empty shopping mall, I don’t think I’d be all that thrilled if I came across a midget. I guess for dogs, size really doesn’t matter.

Speaking of man’s best friend, one thing I’m really glad we don’t emulate with dogs is how we go to the bathroom. Imagine how long the lines would be in a bar if you sniffed the first urinal, peed in the second one, stopped, then peed in a third one. Then on the way out, stopped for one last splash in the sink. Damn, you’d get to the bar at happy hour, and your next drink would be at “last call”.

I guess on the other hand, dogs are probably thankful they don’t have the guilt that humans have regarding looks and sex. You don’t have two bulldogs at the dog park talking it up…Dog 1: Hey dude, who’s that bowwow I saw you with yesterday? Dog 2: Oh man, it’s nothing serious. She was just in heat, and I decided to throw her some lovin’. Dog 1: Yeah, right. Dude, she looked like a St. Bernard. She pumps out a few homely puppies, and next thing you know, she’ll have your ATM card for the next 12 years. Plus, you know she’ll never lose the litter weight. But I know how it is, the bitches all get better lookin’ at sunset.

And of course, the female dogs would have their conversations too. Dog 1: Oh girl, you can’t back into every pug you see, just because of a few hormones. Dog 2: He’s not just any pug, he’s got a job and everything. Dog 1: Oh yeah? What does he do? Dog 2: He’s an actor. Dog 1: Actor, my blue ribboned ass. What’s he done since Men In Black? He’ll leave you for a poodle, and then where will you be? A single mom with eight kids. You’ll be damn Octopooch.

The FCC ruled that “jailbreaking”, or, the practice of unlocking a phone so it can be used on another carrier, is legal. Know what that means? Now you can have dropped calls from your iPhone on T-Mobile too!

Amanda Bynes announced via Twitter that she is “unretired”, reversing her decision of June 19th. Apparently with Betty White taking so many gigs, Bynes quickly grew bored in the Retired Actors’ Home without a Wii partner.

A 52 year-old eastern PA woman was cited by police after she allegedly used her 26 year-old son’s toothbrush to clean the bathroom, then put it back in the holder. The woman was arrested for harassment, and the son was arrested for being 26 and still living with his mother. The son quickly posted bail, and declined comment when approached at Comic-Con.

In an effort to gain more control over inventory, Wal-Mart announced it would start putting “smart tags” on items such as mens clothing. Initial enthusiasm ebbed when it was also announced that the smart tags wouldn’t do shit if applied to the typical Wal-Mart customer.

Sense Networks hired former Nielsen Company Senior VP David Petersen as their new CEO. While addressing shareholders, Petersen stated that 42% of men 18-34 years of age working at Sense, approved the hire. The other 58% of the men missed the poll entirely, as they were sexting their girlfriends.

Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez threatened to cut off oil sales to the U.S. if U.S.-ally Colombia attacks over rumors that Venezuela provides haven to Colombian rebels. Not wanting to risk an all-out attack from angry Americans, Chavez also announced that illegal drug shipments to the U.S. would continue unabated.

In Arizona, illegal immigrants have threatened to march against the enforcement of SB1070, the controversial new law scheduled to take effect Thursday the 29th. In an effort to ease tensions, Governor Jan Brewer assisted in the organization of the march. It will now start along the U.S.-Mexico border, and continue ten feet backward.

I have a certain respect for people who fart in public. I’m not talking about the dude (or girl) who lets one fly in a loud disco; I mean the guy who can ease one out at a cocktail party amongst society’s elite. It takes a certain spectacular control over your ass muscles (can’t imagine what THAT gym workout is like) to know it won’t sound like the noon whistle that signals lunch time for the factory, combined with the discipline to not laugh out loud as your funk permeates others’ olfactory senses. Unfortunately, I never had either. There’s been but one instance in my life, and I failed miserably. I was 7, and one day Mrs. Frederick decided to read our 1st grade class a story. We were all seated on the floor around her. I can’t remember if I consciously tried to do a “one cheek sneak”, or if it slipped, but, there’s only one way to describe the sound…remember when you were a kid and they would sound an alarm for the “duck and cover” exercise? I was within that decibel range. Mrs. Frederick shot a lasered glare in my direction, as did the rest of the class. My best friend next to me tried to cover, by laughing like an idiot and pointing right at me, while I gave a half-hearted denial, all the while with a telltale smirk. I’ve never had a problem lying to a woman, but a group setting is a different animal. I look guilty even when I’m innocent. I was reminded of this while in a very classy bar last night, standing with my cocktail, when the aroma of cabbage and broccoli wafted over me like a desert breeze. As others discretely put fingers under their nostrils, I started looking around. For some reason I always look for a fat, unkempt guy first. Nope, nobody around like that. In fact, it was primarily women, so since it wasn’t me (I swear), it had to be one of these classy women, apple martini in hand. Curious as I was, I couldn’t hang in the area 1) because I noticed rats heading for the door, and 2) it wouldn’t be long before those women started making horrible assumptions about ME. Goddammit, I felt that fucking smirk start to creep into my face as I sidled toward the smoking area. But somewhere, there’s a chick who totally got away with it, and my hat’s off to her.

My other tale of woe concerns my first days in sunny LA. It was 1987, and after an appearance on Wheel Of Fortune, I decided California was the only place to live. It was a spectacular place back then. I had a great bachelor pad in Hollywood, and shortly after getting settled I took in the beach in Santa Monica. As I came back from the sand and surf, towel around my neck, I arrived at where my car was supposed to be. I looked up, and right in front me I saw a guy driving right by me in my car. I must have looked very sad as that little Vietnamese man drove away from me in my own vehicle. My only thought was, Welcome to California. Now go home. I had no other choice but to take the bus home. On the bus, a man with everything he owned in a couple of bags beside him could see my disgust with life in general. “What’s the matter?” he asked. I was barely able to mutter, “Little Vietcong stole my car”.  “Oh man” the guy said, “Well keep your head up. It’ll all turn around for ya. One day you’ll have five of them cars.” I thanked him and went back to staring out the window, avoiding the dried loogey left by a former patron. But you know what? I’ll be damned if that dude wasn’t right. Today, in my garage, I have five 1977 Chevettes. And I don’t feel any better.