Funny

Why Yes, I Do Dream Of A1 Steak Sauce Nightly

December 1, 2009

Do you love A-1 Steak Sauce more than life itself? Can you carry a tune? Do you walk upright and possess opposable thumbs? Then you should star in a commercial for A-1 Steak Sauce.

This was the gist of an e-mail forwarded to me earlier this week, searching for songwriters to memorialize their infatuations for steak sauce in the timeless art of song.

Sure. I’ll get right on that.

But after a late Tuesday night on the town, I stumbled back to my place with a saucy ballad begging to escape the confines of my tiny, inebriated head. In a 10 minute fit of semi-artistic fury, I fashioned from raw, unbridled emotion what can only be described as a cloying cheese ball of a tribute to the world’s finest, most disgusting meat-related condiment.

I recorded it for posterity on a $5 laptop microphone. It is here for you to enjoy in all it’s intoxicated glory.

I headed out to the call on Thursday. The casting agency is situated in a prime West Hollywood location – nestled snugly between Ralph’s Discount Liquor and Petco, on the floor above a Lamps Plus.

Swanky.

I hear the squawking of domesticated cockatiels as I climb the stained linoleum staircase. At the top, I am greeted by a scene that can only be described as limbo.

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Funny

The Top 5 Dumbest Questions I've Been Asked in Hollywood

November 25, 2009

I live on Hollywood Boulevard.

Gruman’s Chinese is a block away. The Walk of Fame is across the street. Elvis’s star is practically in my driveway.

While this makes for incomparable people watching, it also makes for being asked some of the most absurd questions I’ve ever heard in my life.

Allow me to share a few of the rarer jems.

1. A Matter Of Common Knowledge

If I were a realtor, or a tour guide, or maybe even a souvenir salesman, this question could make sense.

But here I am, walking out of Baja Fresh — spicy chicken burrito in hand — when I’m accosted by denim culats-wearing Wanda from Nebraska.

“Young man, where is Brad Pitt’s house?”

She doesn’t even qualify it with, “Oh, you probably don’t know this,” or “This is a shot in the dark, but…”

Nope. It just comes out like “What color is mayonnaise?”

Its as though, doesn’t everyone who lives here know where Brad Pitt lives?! Don’t they just hand out maps to the stars at the DMV??

For the record, no they do not.

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Funny

How To Get Backstage With Nothing But Lime Soda and a Bad Attitude

November 3, 2009

Open bar is a great reason to love movie premieres.

Having a bar makes you wonder why all theaters don’t. Which would you prefer next time you visit the multiplex, a pack of stale Milk Duds or a double vodka tonic?

The only downside to bars at premieres is that people more famous than you are going to cut the line.

And everyone at a movie premiere is more famous than you.

That’s the situation I found myself in Saturday night at the Ricardo Montalban theatre. Tommy Allstar hooked me up with an invitation earlier in the week, and introduced me to Velvet Revolver drummer Matt Sorum by e-mail, who told me to meet him up after the show.

This turned out to be more challenging than advertised.

Matt was slated to play the party after the showing. When the curtain fell, he took the stage with Perry Ferrell, Juliette Lewis, and Macy Gray, and proceeded to bust out some spectacular tunes –- highlights included Gray’s deep throated treatment of Radiohead’s Creep, and Matt spurring a rousing acoustic singalong to Rod Stewart’s Magie May.

As the band knocked out their last song and exited stage right, two beefy security guards promptly took up positions at the stage door and adjacent steps.

No problem, I’m with the band, right?

Wrong.

Me: Hi, I’m on Matt Sorum’s list

Beef: No you’re not.

Me: You didn’t look at the list.

Beef: There is no list.

Sweet.

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Funny

Jesse McCartney Is Better Than You At Beer Pong

October 17, 2009

Look. I don’t know how to tell you this. So I’m just gonna say it. Jesse McCartney is better than you at beer pong.

In college, I was the worst player in my house of 10. But my house was inhabited by 9 of the most competitive, highly regarded Beirut players in North America.

This statement is indisputable.

I have observed Beirut feats that defy imagination — consecutive perfect games, behind the back double-ups, sky hooks for the win, comebacks from 8 cups down in rebuttals — name it. I’ve seen it.

I’ve lived it.

In summary, it is difficult to imagine an act of beer pong to which I have not borne witness.

So imagine my skepticism when, at an after-party in the Hollywood Hills last night, teen pop sensation Jesse McCartney asks to partner up with me, declaring “I do not miss.”

Right. Weren’t you the voice of Theodore in the Alvin and The Chipmunks movie?

(He was.)

But we’re at his house, so what am I gonna say? We shake hands, line up…. and then came the rain.

Throw. Cup. Throw. Cup. Throw. Cup. Jesse is a Beirut machine sent from planet fucking Zebulon to destroy us all.

“Re-rack,” he demands. “Diamond.”

I toss a ball, miss — it rolls back to me. I nonchalantly slide it across the table.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” says Jesse to our opponents. “Give him the ball back — he doesn’t know the rules.”

My jaw hits beer soaked plastic.

What???? I don’t know the rules?

“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse says, patting me on the back like a 6 year old who forgot to collect $200 while passing Go. “If the ball rolls back, you get to shoot once behind the back.”

To be perfectly clear, I have played Beirut on 4 continents and NEVER heard anything even remotely resembling this rule.

But a gift is a gift. I take the shot and bank off the back row. I am duly embarrased. The game resumes.

Still better.

Jesse hits 2 more cups, I hit 1 more, and we are down to our final cup.

I’m about to toss for the win when Jesse leans in and says, “Let me shoot first. I never miss the last cup.”

At this point, I’ll believe anything this guy says. He may as well have promised to vaporize the table with nothing but the power of song.

I hand him the ball. He shoots.

Game, blouses.

As a final note, let me say this: if Jesse McCartney had hit a few cups, it would have been enough. If he had hit 1 cup on a lucky bounce, it would have been enough.

If Jesse had stood idly by and poured us a can of warm Coors Light, it would have been enough.

But not only did Jesse thoroughly DOMINATE the table, he did so while fall-down drunk, chain smoking, and DANCING like he was on TRL.

Jesse McCartney, teen idol, I don’t know where exactly you learned to play this hallowed game, or whether it was simply born within you, encoded deep within the double helices of your DNA — somewhere next to the “real good at choreographed dance moves” proteins.

In any case, my faded white hat is off to you.

Funny

My Crib is on Cribs… Sort of

October 13, 2009

Recently, I moved into a sick place in Hollywood that also happens to be Danny Bonaduce’s house.

So you can imagine my surprise the other day, when during an aimless channel surfing session I suddenly caught a glimpse of something that resembled my pad on CMT Cribs…

For real.

There was Danny Partridge, in the flesh, strutting around my kitchen in a tank top like he owns the place. I’m not sure how many times your house has been on TV while you’re watching it on TV, but let me tell you, its fucking weird.

Danny shows off the fridge. I glance to my right… yea, that fridge.

Danny shows off his priceless 17th century Morrocan tea table. I glance down and realize I should maybe find another place to put my tuna sandwich.

The most surreal part was watching Bonaduce actually show off the plasma TV in the living room while we were watching him show it off on the same plasma TV — like a ghetto MC Escher painting, but without all those crazy stairs.

A close second in the surreal department was seeing who else’s crib was on the same show:

John Rich’s.

That’s not immediately funny to anyone but me. But hold on for one more backstory.

John Rich is a country singer. He lives in Nashville at a place called the Ploughboy Mansion — the world’s largest luxury log cabin, replete with indoor pool, nightclub, and shooting gallery.

Yes, indoor shooting gallery.

The home was originally built by Barbara Mandrell, a country singer who — while apparently ubiquitous in the 80’s – is not even remotely recognizable to anyone under the age of 30.

Little known fact — I actually lived in this house while touring with Tim McGraw and Big & Rich a couple years ago. John’s manager, who owned the property at the time, happened to ask me one day where I was staying while the tour was in Nashville…

(More backstory: because Tim McGraw is big time, he doesn’t have to tour for months on end like most musicians – he tours for a week or two, then goes back to his home in Nashville for a few days to chill. Everyone else on the tour also gets to go home and relax, which is a huge bonus if you live in Nashville, like most people on country tours do. I was in college at the time though, so I didn’t really have anywhere to go).

… so when John’s manager asked me where I was staying, I sheepishly replied “Red Roof Inn.” To which he casually said something like, “That’s fucking ridiculous!” and graciously tossed me the keys to the Ploughboy, instructing me to take my pick of any of its 10 guest rooms (by the way, thanks again Marc — that was incredibly awesome of you).

So long story short, not only was ONE of my cribs on TV, but TWO of my cribs were on TV back to back.

Sort of. Not really.

It was still pretty cool.

Funny

How To Win A Radio Contest

October 6, 2009

So KROQ is having a contest.

It’s not a random “Be caller 127 and win Iron Maiden tickets” contest — this one seems to require some modicum of skill.

Submit a picture + caption of yourself demonstrating how hard you party, and win tickets to a private party at Bardot in Hollywood this weekend.

So first I scouted the competition. I checked the website — most people’s pictures show them doing keg stands, beer bongs, pounding JD from the bottle, etc. with captions like “YEEEAHH BOOYYY!!!!”

I decided to go a slightly different direction — here’s my picture with caption:

Picture #1 is me with a girl at Moon in vegas. Picture #2 is me proposing to a chinese slots manager at planet hollywood.

In the 4 hours between pictures #1 and 2, I:

* consumed 11 jack & cokes
* attempted to fight a lamp
* asked a bathroom attendant for written directions to miami
* lost a danceoff with a dwarf (for real)
* got slapped HARD by girl in picture #1 for calling her 6 different names in 10 minutes
* was ejected from moon while complaining that the bartender served me a watered down drink… the drink was water
* stumbled into the casino, promptly blew $300 on one bet in roulette, cause I “always bet on black”
* took a 20 minute nap in the corner of a moving elevator

The nice chinese lady in picture #2 also rebuffed my advances, but comped me and my buddy a free breakfast buffet. Sweet.

UPDATE:  this entry won the contest

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