Tally-ho!

I feel kind of guilty not taking Prince William's call awhile back: "Tell him I'm on the throne."  (he caught me at a bad time, okay?) I have this sneaky suspicion that Willie wanted to hire me as the wedding planner for the Royal Wedding.  I usually don't do such things, but I'm sure I would've done a great job, given the chance. (somebody probably told him I do a great British accent, though it sounds more like Cheech Marin's when I don't practice.)  One thing's for sure: I would've saved the Royal Family quite a few bucks on the upcoming shindig.  Don't believe me?  "I don't believe you."  Well, first off, I know where to find great cakes at a great price-- Sam's Club!  "You'll need to renew your membersip, sir."  That's right, and that's just for starters.  The wedding dress, why spend so much in this economy?  I would've hooked 'em up for much less.  I know this seamstress in East L.A., she makes these great quinceañera dresses...  For dinner, I would've called this great caterer, he makes the best tacos de cabeza...  (Hey, it's a notch above England's "Toad-in-the-Hole" and "Bubble and Squeak.") I also have connections to a great photographer (He takes great pictures at the local DMV, and fantastic mug shots of naughty celebrities). Yeah, I'm kinda feeling  bad that I ignored the Prince's call.  I'll have to make it up to him next time I visit England.  "Cheerio!"  Maybe we can have a "guys' night out" with Harry Potter and his boys.   Or perhaps we can participate in a polo match or something.  I mean, what's so hard about chasing after a ball while riding a horse, right?  Anybody can do it.  "Excuse me, Willie, where's the ignition on this thing...?"

Tippy Toes

I need to dispel one rumor immediately, before it spreads like wildfire: I was NOT Natalie Portman's body double in "Black Swan."   As you may have heard, there's controversy on just how much ballet the actress actually performed for the movie camera.  Some claim that another person  did most of the dancing in that fine film (I'm still waiting for an explosion and some car chases).  Well, I'm here to take my name OUT of the mix.  "Wasn't me."  First off, I don't look good in a tutu (not that I've ever worn one).  Secondly, I can barely understand all those fancy ballet terms.  For example, you say "Ront de jambe," I say "Jamba Juice." Or what about "A la Seconde"-- I immediately think Second Hand Store.  What did I tell you, ballet and I just don't mix.  Sorry to disappoint but it's the truth.  "I don't do ballet."  To my legion of followers I ask, "Do I look like a swan?"  Of course not.  If anything, I look like a miniature version of Big Bird (especially when I put on that yellow raincoat my mommy bought me years ago).  So please, next time you watch the film, please refrain from jumping out of your seat and yelling, "It's him!  Penché!  Penché!  To that I say, "Wash that mouth with soap!"

Wanna Bite?

As I sit here, about to order lunch, a thought comes to mind.  It must be tough being a vampire.   First of all, their hours are lousy.  "Sorry guys, I'm working graveyard.  Again."  Vampires simply have no time for socializing.  They sleep during the day, work all night. "Blah blah, I've got business to attend to."  That's a bummer.  To be a vampire means no fun in the sun.  No boogie boarding, no laying out to catch some rays.  "I always wanted to be a pool boy."  That really sucks (literally).  Yeah, vampires have it rough.  "Why can't I be like everyone else?"  Poor guys, they can never find a car wash open at night.  "All I see is burger joints."  Vampires have to wash their cars themselves.  "Blah, it's cold out here!"  Having said that, the first thing I'd do if I was a vampire, I'd get those fangs extracted. "Doc, is it going to be bloody?  I prefer it that way."  Those poor vampires face so much teasing, it's not even funny.  "Hey guy, them choppers make you look like a walrus."  (How vampires pose for the family portrait with teeth like that, I'll never know.)  If that's not enough, vampires have to lug around a heavy cape, too.  "I suffer from curvature of the spine." And what about that tired flipped up collar look.  You think the ladies find that attractive?  "That is so 80's..."  Personally, I'd get really grumpy if I had to survive on a bloody diet.  "Too much hemoglobin!  Not enough platelets!"  You know, all this talk is actually getting me hungry.  "Waiter, I'm ready to order now... I'll have a big, fat juicy steak.  And make sure it's rare." 

He Went Thattaway!

Okay, so here's my two cents worth: My sense of direction isn't the greatest.  But it's not terrible, either.  "Get a navigational system," one know-it-all once piped in.  Nope.  Never.  I've got too much pride... while continuing to get "diverted." I refuse to say that I get "lost."  You want "lost?"-- go see Christopher Columbus.  Now that's one guy who refused to ask for directions.  "Boss, I think you missed a continent back there."  And what's with "Do not enter."  What are they talking about?  I don't see a door!  "Knock.  Knock."  And what's with so many red "Wrong Way" signs?  (you'd think sign makers would be more creative and come up with something new) I really believe that I'd get better at finding places if given a chance...  "Go West!" I'm told.  Okay. (That's where the Sun rises, no?)  Just to prove my point, I should moonlight as a taxi driver.  "I don't do One Way streets."  Maybe not.  "How about a limo driver?"  Nah, then I'd have to parallel park that big ol' thing.  Now that I think about it, that's what's wrong with our society these days: people don't have time to get lost anymore.  "Enjoy the sights, granny." Hey, get this, there was this one time when my wife got really mad at me for missing a couple of exits.  I mean, really, really mad.  She called me every word in Webster's Dictionary. (good thing she didn't find the thesaurus) I still can't figure what the big deal was. I mean, what was her rush?  "Can't you see I'm in labor?!" (expectant mothers can be so touchy...)

In this Corner...!

Not that I believe in reincarnation but... in my next life I'd like to be a prize fighter.  "Your new flyweight champion of the world...!" (I don't like to brag but back in high school I was quite the tough guy... "Stop beating on 10-year-olds!") Of course, my trainer would have to be open to certain conditions.  Like NOT getting up at the crack of dawn for morning workouts.  See, I don't go anywhere without first enjoying a hearty breakfast... "Two eggs-- make that, chorizo con huevo.  Orange juice-- no pulp." After that, I'd need two or three hours to digest my food... "I can't believe I ate the whole thing..."  For my morning run, I wouldn't wear a hood.  Those things make me look like, quite frankly, a hoodlum.  And forget about those long boxer shorts.  For some weird reason, they make me look ... short (nothing farther from the truth).  As far as getting punched in the face, I'd have to think about that, too (leather gloves to the mug tend to hurt).  "What's my plastic surgeon gonna say?!" Becoming a boxer would mean I'd have to get some tattoos, too.  Something to distract my opponents before stepping into the ring with me.  Perhaps "Mom." Or maybe Snookie's philosophy on life etched across my back...  So many things to consider... "Don't  forget your appointment at the tanning booth."  Yes, a fighter always wants to look his best for his fans... "Uh, you may want to wax next time, too..."  Oh, come on, now... "You are wearing something underneath that boxer's robe, right?..."  Oops...

Good Deals Aplenty!

As I take a breather from writing, I have a chance to think about garage sales.  Much to my chagrin, they're never for sale.  Talk about false advertisement... "But I want this 3-car garage... I want it! I want it! I want it!"  Still, you do find great deals at these venues (I'm just about done with this year's Christmas shopping.). You never know what you might find at bargain prices.  That includes valuable jewelry, artifacts, and half-eaten snacks once bitten by famous actors and celebrities. "This granola bar was chewed on by all of the Kardashian sisters."  I really recommend garage sales.  It's a great way to make new friends and get decorating tips as you sneak inside to use their bathrooms.  "Don't sell that plunger!"  If you time it right, the homeowner will be distracted to the point of selling you items at a great discount, too.  "I'll give you 20 bucks for that." (How do you think my daughter's getting her first car?) Personally, I don't know why people sell their personal belongings (You never know when 8-track tape players will reappear).  Unless they're shoes.  You should see my wife's closet (she's claimed sole ownership).  Call it the Great Wall of High Heels.  In that case, I'm totally in favor of selling such items.  "What about your baseball cards?"  Except my baseball cards.  "Stay away from my Sammy Sosa rookie cards!"  They're the best investment I ever made... right next to the deal with that Madoff guy...

Up, Up, and Away!

I don't want to sound ungrateful but... I'll take my chances.  If the situation ever presents itself, please don't get me a balloon bouquet. Chances are, I'd be given the wrong one: 'It's a girl!"-- No, I'm a boy, okay?!  I've always been a boy, from all indications...  Here's another thing, I don't weigh all that much and... I'm afraid I'd float away holding onto a bunch of balloons.  "Somebody get me down from here!"  Nice, a human piñata.  With my luck, someone would find a creative way of ending my predicament. "Jethro, is that there one of them vultures in the sky?"  Great... "No, Pa, we're being invaded by Martians-- and I'm gonna shoot 'em down for ya!"  Imagine what would happen if I went into a no-fly zone: "Uh... why's that fighter jet headed right towards me?"  Not only do I NOT want to be  someone's target practice, nor dodge F-15's, I don't like heights, either (that's why I don't walk on my tippy toes.) And I respect people's privacy, too. I'd be weirded out about peeking down into backyards: "Hey, use some discretion down there!"  If I wanted to hang out in the sky, I would've majored in Blimps."  "You sure are a skinny blimp, mister."  No doubt about it, I'm going to make sure to keep my feet firmly on the ground.  That's where Man was born to be... "Uh... guys, I think I stepped on something..."  Then again...