I Have a Cap'n Crunch Lodged in My Throat

Well, it's actually an imitation Cap'n Crunch — the Ralphs knock-off brand, known as Crisp Crunch, which I bought because of being a cheap Jew bastard — but it looks and tastes the same, and is every bit as irritating in its current location somewhere just beyond my uvula. I gagged on it a little, see, because it started going down the wrong way, and it was just on that brink where I could have spat it back out if I acted quick enough, but instead I swallowed, and now it's stuck in Wrong Way Town. This is a bitch. DAMN YOU, YOU CAP'N CRUNCH IMPOSTOR!!!!!!!!!! If you were the real Cap'n Crunch, you would have no doubt navigated your way down the correct corridor without any problem. Got a scalpal? Or at least a bottle of whiskey? Maybe if I drink myself into oblivion, I can just puke you up. Now that's using the ol' noggin'!

Get a Massage From This Chick, Help the Soldiers

Heidi (that chick in the picture, a.k.a. my apartment mate) is studying to become a massage therapist. Tomorrow, she will be giving free massages to any interested parties at a fundraising event for soldiers in North Hollywood. Specifically, at a place called Karate 4 Kids. (That's cute how they use the numeral "4" instead of the word "for." Wonder if they have a sister establishment called "Karate 4 Adults"?) In keeping with the locale, there will be a bounce house set up for kids to bounce around in. And you know what they'll probably be needing after all that bouncing? Oh, you got it: a massage from Heidi.

The whole shebang happens from 12:30 to 5 p.m., and the address is: 5215 Bakman Ave., North Hollywood, 91601. For more info, go over here.

(photo courtesy of jasmineazure.com)

The Scrog Blog Gets Slightly Made Over

I have spent a few days giving this blog a new look. It's not terribly different from the old look, but it's not the same, either. It's all about the colors. The colors, children ... flaaaayvin. Picking colors is hard, I find. There's just so many of them. But I think I'm happy with these ones. Hope they instill in you, as they do in me, a nice, warm, Halloweeny feeling.

Land Shark Attack Bulletin ... ?

Land Shark is a person in my life who plagues my very existence with relentless comments and actions that take great, big, gaping bites out of my soul. My log of LS's latest strike:

OK, so I really have no grounds at all to think Land Shark had anything to do with this, but it seems enough like a Land Shark-y thing to at least be behind for me to feel warranted in casting my suspicion that way. I go out to my car one morning to leave for work, right, and I bring with me a bag of garbage to toss out before I get on my way. Well upon walking back from the dumpster toward my car, I see the gigantic dent pictured below above my right rear wheel. And directly in the center of the dent (as you will see in the second picture) is a big, solitary footprint. So somebody, it seems, kicked this dent in my car. Does Land Shark know where I live? Could be. Might LS or an LS crony have loosed this angry booting unto my vehicle in the AVN parking lot while no one was looking, to only first be discovered by me much later? Also could be. Either way, if anyone recognizes the footprint ... uh, then you've got bigger issues than me with this dent, I imagine.

I Crack Me Up

Had this exchange with Bree Olson the other day when she was at the AVN office promoting Adam & Eve/Zero Tolerance's Roller Dollz:

Bree: I can't take working in a cubicle all day. That's what drove me to porn.
Me: Interesting. I'm just the opposite — porn is what drove me to working in a cubicle.

God, that's rich.

(photo by Gia Jordan)

Note to Universe

I just don't see how it's sanitary to scrub the gunk off your teeth with the same instrument over and over again. Do you wipe your ass with the same piece of toilet paper more than once? This is the reason I soak my toothbrush — and my toilet paper — in pure grain alcohol.