Dr. Thomas Neill Cream and Me

I've always had an interest in mustaches but have never worn one -- until today. And that's discounting the indicator mustache that most facial hair-baring teenagers grow as nature's way of saying it's time to start shaving. I had a pretty furious beard for the past couple months to the point where I was routinely being called out for looking like Ted Kaczynski, so the terrorist beard had to go. Although to be more accurate it was more of a depression beard.

But since I'm feeling good these days, and it's been the opposite temperature of a witch's tit, the beard had to go. It did go out with a bang though. Over the weekend, I won a trip to the Virgin Mobile Freefest coming up in a couple weeks and had to take some promo pictures for marketing or whatever (the PR woman's personal collection); so if you come across a picture of some thin Zach Galifianakis looking motherfucker holding a robot lion/tiger cub, congratulations, you have located a picture of me.

A terribly out of date picture. I mean, it's been at least eighteen hours since I've had a full beard -- and in this Facebook/Twitter world that we live in, anything that is older than fifteen minutes is old news. So I decided to keep a handlebar mustache. Seriously. I look like I belong in a barbershop quartet, or I should be lifting those trapezoidal dumbbells while wearing a one-shoulder singlet. There are so many prospects for my new facial hair, I may keep it forever. And by forever I mean maybe through the weekend after attending a bachelor party. Nothing say classy to a stripper than a sweet, sweet handlebar mustache.

Konnichiwa, bitches!

(Especially me. See below.)

Well blog, long time no write.

Just to get it out of the way, the relationship I referenced in a few posts last year has come to it's conclusion. That is all I'm going to say about that until I can come up with something funny about getting dumped and being terribly depressed. Boo hoo!

Moving on. I'm sorely out of practice at trying to be funny at any length larger than a paragraph, so getting back into this is going to be like swimming in the Atlantic Ocean in New England -- I'll need to ease myself in or I'll freeze my balls (literally). So here's something quick that I read today:

WASHINGTON (AFP) – Five months after it was launched on a mission to find earth-like planets, the Kepler space telescope has sent back to Earth high-precision images of a planet some 1,000 light years away, NASA said Thursday.

But the real excitement at NASA was over how well Kepler was working, and the promise it holds for the future.

With Kepler only in the calibration phase, the telescope, which was launched in March on a mission to find earth-like planets in the galaxy, sent back to Earth highly precise images of a planet with the unromantic name of HAT-P-7-B.

The images of the so-called "hot Jupiter" planet located about 1,000 light years (around 5.9 quadrillion miles, 9.5 quadrillion kilometers) from Earth were "the first time anyone has seen light from this planet," said William Borucki, the principal science investigator for the Kepler mission and lead author of a report that will be published Friday in Science.

But while the scientists were enthusiastic about Kepler's discovery of optical light from HAT-P-7-B -- Carnegie Institution astrophysicist Alan Boss called it "stunning indeed" -- they were even more excited by the fact that Kepler was working, and working well.

"The real headline is Kepler works," said Boss.

Amazing! High precision images of a planet light years away! But that's not what gives these scientists a space-boner; oh no, it's that the piece of equipment that they spent years engineering and billions of dollars building is doing the job that they designed it to do. And this isn't an isolated incident. I'm too lazy to dig up any actual articles to back this up, but every time a piece of space equipment does it's job the scientists seem surprised.

"Holy shit! The Mars Rover landed on Mars and is now roving it. This is the exact opposite of what I expected to happen, despite spending 15 years of my life dedicated to this project."

Where can I get a job where failure is expected? Relationship counselor? Actually, that's not a good example at all.

And here come the pretzels!

Michael Phelps won 8 gold medals at the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics. Whooptee-shit. I don't care anymore. Please stop covering him everyone. I don't care what his daily schedule is. I don't care what he eats. I don't care what's on his iPod. I don't care how many people want to be his friend on Facebook. I don't care that if he had a homoerotic experience in middle school. I don't care.

I'm not taking anything away from his athletic ability, it's obvious that he kid can swim. And I wouldn't be surprised to learn that his mom had a run in with Led Zeppelin at the Edgewater Inn. Or I won't take anything from the accomplishment that he had 81.25% say in. He only had six solo finals, the other two finals he was part of a four man team. Do the math.

I'm just sick of hearing about him constantly. Like a good American, I've been tuning into NBC's "live" coverage of the games and supporting my country by purchasing goods being marketed by official Olympic sponsors. I've also been driving around in a 2009 Ford Mustang that gets really shitty gas mileage (more about that soon) and doing poorly (3 out of 18) at recognizing facial characteristics between citizens of Asian countries. But I won't stand behind him anymore. Throughout all the swimming competitions, it's been all about Michael Phelps. Even when other competitors were winning medals. During their post-victory interviews at least half of the conversation was about him.

Reporter: So how does it feel to win a medal at the Olympics?

Swimmer: This is the greatest moment of my life. I've worked hard every day for the past eight years to get here.

Reporter: So how about that Michael Phelps? He's amazing, isn't he? I hear he's part mud shark.

Swimmer: Ummm... yeah, he's great. I can't believe all the adversity that I had to overcome to get to this leve--

Reporter: Oh yeah. Congratulations on overcoming adversity. So does Michael Phelps inspire you like he has America?

Swimmer: Actually, my 108 year-old grandmother who was the first white woman in South Carolina to date a black man, has been my true inspiration. It was her trailblazing that has helped to begin to mend the wound of slavery and end the evils of racism.

Reporter: Shut up! That has nothing to do with Michael Phelps. Would you say Michael Phelps is your one true savior?

I know I may have exaggerated one or two things there, but it's like these athletes were being interviewed by Bill O'Reilly and had a dissenting opinion. Weaksauce NBC. Weaksauce.

The most shocking news in the history of the world!

From the AP:

DALLAS - A tour bus carrying hip-hop artist Snoop Dogg was pulled over and two people were arrested on marijuana possession charges Thursday a few hours before a concert in Dallas, a spokesman for the Texas Department of Public Safety said.

DPS spokesman Charlie Morgan said members of a commercial vehicle inspection team pulled the bus over on Interstate 45 in Corsicana because the vehicle had an expired registration sticker. Troopers searched the bus for drugs after they said they smelled marijuana and found two ounces of the drug, he said.

Ethan Calhoun, 27, and Kevin Barkey, 26, were arrested on drug charges after admitting the drugs belonged to them, Morgan told The Associated Press. Both men were taken to the Navarro County Jail and face fines of up to $2,000 and six months in jail if convicted, Morgan said. Bond was set at $1,500 each.

The Corsicana Daily Sun reported the men appeared before a justice of the peace and were released after posting bond.

Snoop Dogg, whose birth name is Cordozar Calvin Broadus Jr., was not arrested. His agent had no comment, a secretary said. Calls to public relations representatives for the rapper were not immediately returned Thursday evening.

He was arrested last year at Bob Hope Airport in Burbank, Calif., on suspicion of transporting marijuana.

Police later charged him with gun possession after finding a firearm in his home. He pleaded no contest in April 2007 to felony gun and marijuana charges and agreed to five years' probation and 800 hours of community service.

He was scheduled to appear at a concert near the Cotton Bowl in Dallas. He is on tour with alternative rock group 311.

Corsicana is 52 miles south-southeast of Dallas.

Really? Some nogoodniks on Snoop Dogg's tour bus were in possession of marijuana? That's hard to believe. It's not like the guy every glorified the use of marijuana in any of his endeavors before.

This Just In: the sky is blue.

But seriously, I don't get how this doesn't happen more often. How don't dudes like Snoop Dogg and Willie Nelson get arrested daily? Probably for the same reason people like Nicole Richie go to jail for 82 minutes. Because their dads had something to do with the making of Dancing on the Ceiling.

Mix one part awesome with five parts shit

So a few weeks back I mentioned my best friend getting married. That wedding without a doubt was one of the most fun times I've had in my entire life. I'm not going into the details, as they're pretty fuzzy, but you know it's an awesome reception when the DJ plays 2ge+her. For real. I guess I just didn't realize that drinking all day was a requirement of being in a wedding. So is ushering, which is also a blast when you're half in the bag.

Me: Hello. Are you with the bride or the groom?
Wedding guest: Are you joking? ... I'm with the groom. I've known you since you were this high. [makes gesture with hand to hip height]
Me: Of course you are. A thousand apologies. I just didn't recognize you all dressed up. Your pants suit is quite breathtaking. [still has no idea who this person is]

But since that day my life has been one big shitshow. I was sick for two solid weeks. My car succumbed to the demon named hydrolock. My cell phone drowned. And the brakes went out on the truck I was using while without a car. I'm happy I never got around to getting a dog because it probably would have been hit by a car or struck by lightning, or hit by a car that was in the act of being struck by lightning. Hell, with the way things have been going, I'm surprised I didn't get struck by lightning yesterday while outside when it was storming like a motherfucker.

And probably worst of all, I've been going to dealerships checking out new cars and have been subjected to the scum of the Earth that are car salesmen.

Car salesman: Why don't you fill out this credit application and we'll see what kind of deal we can get you?
Me: I'm not buying a car today. I just wanted to test drive a couple cars, which I eventually did.
Car salesman: Well why don't you fill it out anyway so we can see?
Me: Because checking my credit affects my credit rating, and I'm not going to do that when I'm not going to buy a car today.
Car salesman: Ummm... ok. I need to go talk to my manager.

Fuckface.

P.S. I owned the dance floor at that wedding, as I tend to do.