Rap Battle Translated

Diagram of a Hollywood Groover

Movember

No joke. In order to raise money for prostate cancer research, I will join the throngs of men in the world with a patch of pubic hair under their unlucky noses. Yes, I will grow a mustache. I've become involved with a charity called Movember, where participating men grow mustaches all month long during November as opposed to running a 5k or the like.

One person I told about this event had the audacity to say it was lame and that it disrespected all the people who "actually do something like walk a 5k for their charity." Seriously? Walk a 5k? I walked 5k this morning to my apartment from my girlfriend's...with sleep in my eye, in flip flops, and talking on the phone the whole way. That's an accomplishment comparatively to what I'm about to do? People, I'm gong to allow a weasel to fester in between my lip and my nostrils for a whole month. My point being this is as as good as any reason to donate to the cause. And let's face it. Cancer sucks. Big, sweaty, fromunda-laden balls. My mom, grandma, aunt...they all passed away from their battles with it. So let's help put an end to butt cancer. It's one of the leading causes of death in men and that alone is ass flakes served with rotten milk.

My girlfriend thinks I'm gonna look tits with a mustache, thank god. So all I have to do now is decide on what style I'm gonna rock. Handlebar? Cop? Hitler? Magnum? Burly American Bear? Hellbent for Leather? Decisions, decisions...

Anybody who's down to sponsor me and make even a $5 contribution to the cause would be greatly appreciated.

To donate to my Mo you can either:

1. Click this link https://www.movember.com/us/donate/donate-details.php?action=sponsorlink&rego=1480166&country=us and donate online using your credit card or PayPal account, or
2. Write a check payable to the ‘Prostate Cancer Foundation', referencing my Registration Number 1480166 and mailing it to:

Prostate Cancer Foundation
Attn: Movember
1250 Fourth St
Santa Monica, CA, 90401

All donations are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law.

The money raised by Movember is donated directly to the Prostate Cancer Foundation which will use the funds for high-impact research to find better treatments and a cure for prostate cancer.

I'll post pictures regularly to update the growth of my Chia-lip so those who get involved understand where their money went. Thanks again, y'all. Let's get Magnum PI up in ths bitch.

Pimp Love

Sexual Thunder

Dig this...

The End of Ass Fucking World Championships

Ass Fucking World Championships has come to a close. Yesterday, at the end of the work day our new show runner came in to the office for a surprise meeting. He told us he wasn't gonna bullshit us, and he didn't. The entire creative team was summarily fired, top to bottom. The Testicles Network decided to bring in new blood...who will find out the same shit we did; they're writing for a clueless team of overpaid execs and an egotistical douche bag with massive homophobia, wherein something with three wheels or jet engines is too gay, along with anything remotely adventurous. The network wants him to be Evil Knievel, he wants to drive cool cars, and never shall the twains meet. All these morons together can't have a meeting of the minds to figure this out, so instead they scape goat this shit on all of us. We've pitched every god damned thing under the sun so I sincerely give my blessings and apathy to the new writing team. Good luck. You're gonna need it. Ass Fuck this dude like a champ.

Today is my last day. I'm sitting in bed still, debating when I should motivate to actually show up. The incentive is there are tons of research magazines I can steal and Paramount has $4 DVDs that I want to buy. I can pimp up my resume and eat some free food while I'm there. Firing people at the end of the month...cold blooded. But all along I've said I hate the show and the job and the star so I shouldn't bitch now. It's just a matter of finding work in The Wood amidst this forsaken economy. Better call the unemployment office.

There is a super-clone of Dick Clark; a younger, blonder version. He supposedly needs a writer for his national radio show. Doesn't sound so bad. Or does it? God knows. This industry kind of blows. To all the youth dreaming of a job in show biz...realize this crap heap is no different than any other career. Its a J.O.B. Unless you are Keanu Reeves it is still a work load and boring and frustrating and aggravating. Except here there is no job security and the bottom can fall out at any minute. And you end up working on shows like Ass Fucking World Championships.

Drink my bitter tea. I hope it burns your throat.

Chad Hates Aliens

This dude Matt I know from back in the day is having some major views on youtube for one o' his trio's shorts. Shit's kind of funny and stuff. Check out the steez...

Halloween Amidst Hipsters, Stuffed Bison, Fake Dinosaurs and Discoteque Type Shit

This sounds rad. Metromix is putting on a party at the Natural History Museum near downtown. They got good music and an excellent venue for Hallow's Eve. Should be the same pleasure you would enjoy from pimp love times a billion.

The World's Most Famous Welder

The star of Ass Fucking World Championships is quite possibly the world's most famous welder. He is supposed to challenge himself in death-defying adventures...that is the main premise of the show. The problem is, despite this welder's reputation for being hard as steel and all that machismo bullshit, he is surprisingly a massive pussy fart and sets parameters for an adventure show that are as limiting as a porn star packing one inch of man meat.
Willie Welder will not:

• Fall
• Jump
• Get cold/hot
• Get wet
• Hang glide
• Snowmobile
  
• Ski
• Snowboard
• Sail
• Fight
• Climb
  
• Touch another man
• Rappel
  
• Anything remotely or feasibly adventurous

Why? These are all, "Too gay." Truth. That is his response. Do you see why I hate Ass Fucking World Championships now? I want this chode sucker to weld his balls to his forehead.

Get Drunk and Crunk in the Shadows of Dodger Stadium Tonight

Here's a fun time. Go. Now you know about something to do, so shut the fuck up.

The Best Cheeseburger in Los Angeles #1

So LA is known as a burger haven. A place where worthy cows have their flesh ground up into a pulp and served between typically enriched buns. I can tell you this; it is true. LA has a handle on cow sandwiches unlike any other place in the world...as far as I can tell. I think its a holdover from the old LA we hear about, a place that sounds way more bitching than the self centered yuppie haven this city has become. Don't get me wrong. I love LA, I even having a T-shirt proclaiming it unabashedly...just some of the populus here deserve to be done like Salem Witches. I'm a healthy dude and all, but some of these people need to put down their macrobiotic bullshit and grub down on some poorly handled beast flesh. There is something glorious and primal about a pimp cheese burger, all dripping with saturated fat and gooey cheese and blood red ketchup and flubbery, goopy, yellowish mayonnaise. I love them. With all my stomach.

I therefore do declare that I will commence...

The Great Los Angeles Burger Challenge.

I am quite well versed in the world of cheeseburgers in this great city, so I will make a point of posting an article from time to time on a new burger spot that I've tried. I will include it into a ranked list and shift it accordingly as new spots come into my consciousness. I will include photos when I'm not too drunk to deal. I've eaten several of these spots already and have an opinion, but will start this project with a clean slate. Feel free to advise me on spots I need to include. For now, these are the tentative spots I will come to rank in the coming months. This list will grow as my knowledge expands.

• Cassell's - A legendary spot in Korea town. I've fucked this shit up before. Its definitely worth fucking.
  
• Father's Office - The Santa Monica favorite. Sloppy, wet, expensive.
  
• The Pantry - Don't know shit about it. Will soon.
• Hinano's Beer and Burgers - Down near the Venice Strand, this is a dive bar that smells like shit and is chock full of douche bags that will extol the virtues of their friendship with Bradley Nowell while drooling on their Dickies. Incredibly, their burgers are god damned primo.
  
• Apple Pan - Old school Westwood shit. Saw John Wooden there once. They put apple sauce on their burgers. Gross. Make sure you say no apple sauce.
  
• Fat Burger - I know. Everybody knows it. It still kicks ass. Has to be on the list.
  
• Pete's - My girlfriend's favorite spot. Downtown pub burger. Real tasty. I don't want to concede she has better burger knowledge than me though. Not yet.
• The Counter - A co-worker on Ass Fucking World Championships recommended this spot. I know shit all about it.
  
• Hawkin's House of Burgers - A Watts classic. These burgers cost twenty bucks in the heart of the hood, have a pile of pastrami and a pound of bacon and the patties alone total two pounds or some shit. This is the burger I'm most excited about. This is where I'll start my adventure. Plus, I get to go to Watts and check out the crack spots!

Hell yeah. The Great Los Angeles Burger Challenge is on like Donkey Kong.

What Will Heaven Be Like?

Just ask dude here. He knows. We all get mansions and fine ass faces. And 40's and beepers.

This is without question my favorite internet video of all time. Bar fucking none.

What Will Heaven Be Like?

The Next Chocolate Rain singing Star Wars Kid

This video...it is disturbing, adorable, horrifying, sickening, surreal, and shall soon overtake the collective consciousness. This child shall be subjected to scrutiny and torment. He could very well be 18 by now, judging by the grainy image quality. But honestly...he is so fucking fat. Is this real? Is this proof that Descartes was right? A sign that 2012 is a reality? Proof that Americans are fat, demented pieces of shit? You be the judge...

Chubby lil' fucker with demonic cuteness

Hollywood Coke Whores

Driving along Mulholland with The gimp the other day, trying unsuccessfully to catch the sunset, I decided on the next script I'm to write on spec. Its going to be titled Hollywood Coke Whores. I've been outlining it in my head. It's motivating me to finish the other projects so I can concentrate on something I really want to work on, not piece of shit Disney moon pies.

It going to be high on style, even higher on coke. Multi-narrative. Aaah. I feel good about his one.

My First Blogging Mission

For my first Blogging Mission I will go an adventure sometime during the work week. Hopefully I will get too drunk and they will fire me from this painful existence I call a job. Ass Fucking World Championships is a paycheck so I've stuck around longer than I ever anticipated. The thing is, I'm a screenwriter (No, really. Fuck you.) and I have two projects that I need to complete. One is a rad grind house type movie that only needs a minor rewrite. The other is a kids movie centered in the world of video games that I sold in a pitch. I thought I'd be able to write this in my dirty drawers, baked as fuck, half conscious and wholly removed. This is not the case. It is a major bitch and a minor catastrophe in my life. It is months past due. I can't get paid until I finish it so it is fucking paramount (like the studio I work at) that I figure this web of 'child-aimed entertainment hell' out. So fire me. Please. Force me to further my career.

My blogging missions will be photographed by my neighbor, an aspiring shooter with a younger face that will make for better perspective, or at least I won't have to find my missing camera. His name...Gimp.

I'm not sure what my first blogging mission will be. Something to make my girlfriend jealous. I will go to the most fabulous jammy jam in all of Hollywood. Something that is exquisitely nouveau and 'east side' and right up her alley. She is busy like a phone line. She has more homework than a med school heart surgeon and she's in design school...go figure. These motherfuckers expect you to commit all your waking moments to a cardboard box that must be painstakingly constructed, and that's just one class out of seven. She needs time to do all this shit so I'm looking to entertain myself in the mean time.

There is a show off competition that this dude Dirty Dave DJ's. He's her friend, not mine. I'm not a fine ex-international model like she is so I don't have nearly the game she's got (more game than Kareem), but I am her boyfriend so I get to hear about all the rock hard dope shit. Blammo. Hook it up, boo. Anyways, hot chicks in really strange clothing choices show up and try to act the most over the top for a $400 prize. Sounds like a starting point.

Supposedly this dude Dirty Dave and I were in the same art department in the same college at the same time, so I might know that ass. I'm gonna do it. I'll post info later once I get all the details. It will rock.

Welcome to My Fortress.

I've started a blog. Right at this fucking moment.

I'm working on a TV called Ass Fucking World Championships (working title) as a researcher. For those of you unfamiliar with the inner-workings of reality TV, a researcher is what they call a writer on such shows. That is because they don't want to pay us as writers, they just want to mine my brain like a Santa Monica tranny's inner-cavities, but they want to pay me much less than the tranny would receive for receiving said tunnel gouging. By not calling me a writer they can use all my ideas, not freak out the WGA, and pay me less than the kid who moves the desks around and stocks our kitchen with mini-snickers and Halloween themed pretzels. Am I bitter? Fuck you.

Anyways, a show runner is the guy who runs the show. Ours is sick. He's a good dude and a great boss and it sucks ass. (It ain't his fault I signed up for this creative raping.) We now have no boss, great chances of the show evaporating, and more free time than Danny Bonaduce. So...I'm finally starting a blog.

Why?

Because for years I've seen the likes of Perez Fucking Hilton paint a picture of Hollywood that I detest. Fuck you.

Because I've personally seen bald dudes with glasses from Brooklyn become more powerful than Jimmy Iovine just because they write a blog where they post concert pics and say an album sucks donkey nuts or on the other hand gently licks model boobs. These dudes have gotten us onto a party bus on New Years Eve in Brooklyn that was filled with music execs who paid to be on board and a band billed as The Drunkest G and R Cover Band in the World as our musical entertainment. They threw off paying execs so we could get on. Why? This dude writes shit. Case closed.

Because I'm sick of these hipster blogs where some dude named Gecko Lizard takes pictures of some underage skanks in American Apparel and head bands, licking the face of some roasted douche with a mustache and some shades that are no longer ironic. This side of Hollywood is just as bullshit as the Strip side. Then there are these other bloggers that hate on this dude, but act the fucking same.

Because I want money, power, and bus rides with cover bands. Because I'm a writer. And most of the bloggers aren't capable of spelling their mother's maiden names or brushing their fucking teeth. Because I know about this city of Hollywood and I go on great, lyrical adventures that need a platform for the world to hear. Because this will motivate me to go to those stupid events that I would normally not go to. Just fucking because.

So I am starting this blog because it will make me rich and popular and culturally relevant and get me in to those parties you shit heads want to be in. It will make me powerful. Eat my shit.