Mixed Media Junkie

In one of the few funny That 70’s Show moments I’ve seen or cared to remember, Kelso (Ashton Kutcher) tries to circumvent Jackie’s demand that he quit modeling underwear by saying “I plomise to quit,” as a sort of verbal crossing of the fingers. I don’t know why this childish buffoonery was amusing, or why I mention it now, except I said I’d elaborate on some topics, and now here I am. I’m nothing if not a fulfiller of obligations.

This post gets better soon, I plomise.

So. Jeopardy! (That ! is kind of throwing my tone off.) Jeopardy! has been my favorite game show for years on end, which speaks to my general nerdish nature. Factoid #2 supporting this claim: I read the entire Charlie Brown Encylopedia as a child, the whole way through, in probably 2 or 3 weeks. In my defense, it did have a lot of pictures, and I did live in the Philippines at the time, and I was 7 or 8, and the Peanuts Gang were just the height of American cool…  Okay, you’re right, I did read it for the articles.

Anyway, I’m excited to have a chance to face Alex Trebek in a battle of wills and wits, although I prefer the mustachioed version better. Seeing his upper lip naked is like seeing plumber’s crack; it’s just wrong. And what’s up with the way he tries to over-enunciate foreign words? I, and Hazel even more so, especially hate the way he pronounces the word genre “zhan,” and not “zhanruh” the way the good lords Merriam and Webster intended. Stuff it in your corn-cob pipe, Trebek. I won’t stand for it, and I’ll say as much to his goddamned snooty, ’stache-less Canadian face.  *Edit: French-Canadian no less, according to reports out of Tim’s brain.

No, you’re right, I won’t give Trebek shit. Shut up, I’m not a pussy, but I would like to win some good cold American cash before getting kicked off the show, so why don’t you walk a mile in my faux Napoleon Dynamite moon boots before judging me, you judgmental motherfucking assface.

To paraphrase Mitch Hedberg – wow, this took a harsh turn quick. Come back, baby. I didn’t mean those things. I’m just tired. Keep reading.

So, there’ve been a few suggestions on anecdotes for me to use to dazzle, and Beadazzle, the Jeopardy! producers, in whose hands my 15 syndicated minutes of fame rest:

• Monopoly as the catalyst of one of the biggest fights Hazel and I have ever had, ending with her storming off in a huff and slamming the bedroom door, and me smugly, proudly, stupidly, spitefully holding my ground. That one’s not really a fun one to rehash, and if I told that story cheerfully, I’d look like a smug prick who hadn’t learned his lesson, which is: don’t fucking play Monopoly with your girlfriend.
• Meeting George Wendt and getting his autograph on our first date, sort of.  *Edit: That kind of reads weird, as if I had a first date with George Wendt; what I meant was Hazel and I met him and got his autograph.
• Dressing up as Alex Trebek for Halloween. This one was sent in by a reader. What a stupid suggestion, not to mention a complete fabrication. We all know I dressed up like Vanna.

Here are some family/audience-friendly anecdotes:

• Being born in Saudi Arabia in a hospital built and funded by the bin Laden family. The being born there is accurate, but I made up the bin Laden part, because there’s no way to corroborate that, unless they check this blog… in which case I made up the making up of that part.
• Was runner-up Mr. ABC, sort of a district-wide high school male equivalent of a beauty pageant. No, it wasn’t gay at all. Emoticon for straight face goes here.
• Accomplished one of my 2006 New Year’s “suggestions” of hitting a home run in softball (I’ve hit two – one was a grand slam, and not the Denny’s kind, either. Suck on that, Bonds.)
• Used to perform Filipino folk-dancing
• Won a Peeps-eating contest; have also eaten a 22 oz. prime rib (the legendary Cowboy Cut)
• I went to a magnet school and graduated valedictorian – one of 17. I then went on to drop out from Stanford in an effort to really distinguish myself from everyone else who merely “got in.” I mean, 11% of applicants get in, and of those, only about 3-4% don’t graduate, so I’m in an exclusive group of .33%. That’s elitism to a new level.
• One of my childhood heroes was McGuyver. Another was Magic Johnson. One got his TV series cancelled and the other got HIV, so… way to pick role models, me.

And, finally, mercifully, a last section on some not quite TV- and mom-friendly anecdotes, but probably right up the alley of my readership:

• once tried to carve a star on my wrist (drunk)
• last night of freshman year: streaked the quad, jumped in a fountain, climbed a tree, went through a steam tunnel, threw a bike in a tree, fell in a lake, packed for home (drunk/drunk & naked)
• had rancid food thrown at me, was captured by upperclassmen, and saran-wrapped half-naked to a light pole (drunk)
• helped construct, and push, a beer chariot for use in Bay-to-Breakers race in San Francisco; jumped in lake naked (drunk/drunk & naked)
• Dressed up as the Village People and mud-wrestled sorority girls; made out with a friend’s girflriend in the ensuing 25-person group shower (drunk/muddy/partially-clothed)
• almost stabbed by my mom because I tried to wear khakis with my new sweater. She has a killer fashion sense. (Get it?!? Killer fashion se… you get it.)  I can remember thinking “Hm, I do not want to get blood on this sweater.” (stone-cold sober)

Shit.  It’s two in the morning.  One last thought: wouldn’t it be great if Alex Trebek, turning to his cue card, read “So, it says here you ‘once got busy in a Burger King bathroom.’” “Yes, Alex. I’m sick wit dis, straight gangsta mack.  But sometimes I get ridiculous.  I’ll eat up all your crackers and licorice.”  Man, I’m making less and less sense.  I need some effin’ sleep.  Later, bitches.