Regarding the above still image: Once again, YouTube has captured me at my most attractive.
Here's where Dustin and I danced with a pointsettia
If you only watch one clip, please watch this bit of hard-hitting journalism. Also: man alive I’m loud!
Clip won’t play? Watch here.
Clips: Zombieland cowriter/coproducer Rhett Reese talks about having number one movie
Trouble viewing the above? Don’t cry.
Clips: I won a raffle; I did not fake the yelp
Trouble viewing above clip? Watch that action here.
More clips from last night: The Singles party was a clambake
Thanks to wcgcapone for the term!
Issues with the above video? Watch it here.
The appeal of my show in less than 60 seconds
Amazing show tonight. 21,880 viewers for tonight’s broadcast, which is the most I’ve ever had. Plus highlights up the wazoo and out the ying yang and other similar phrases. Here’s a little clip:
If the above video doesn’t play, watch here.
Ustream; about last night; weather; gynecology
Don’t forget to tune in to my Ustream show tonight at 11pm ET/8pm PT and join in the chat room or just watch the proceedings which are sure to be both fun and ridiculous.
Will we name plants?
Will we play Cow, Sheep or Goat which I believe we may have a request for?
Will we play the rhyming game which my sister and I invented but only I think is fun?
Will Dustin and I have found true love with strangers at the Singles party I’m supposedly going to tonight but which I can already feel I may flake on (pssss. No one tell Dustin. It’s a surprise!)
Will I tell you about how I won an iPod touch in a raffle at a comedy benefit for the leukemia and lymphoma society last night (hosted by Liam McEneany and featuring Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, John Oliver, Kristen Schaal, Todd Barry, Jim Gaffigan, Caroline Rhea, Eddie Brill and fuck who am I forgetting? A Brief View of the Hudson) and it was exciting because I was literally sitting there thinking, “If they call my number, which they won’t since in my entire life of raffles I’ve never had my number called, is it ok if I just raise my hand or stand up as opposed to yelping like everyone else because I just don’t think I can summon the yelp and I hope they’ll understand that it doesn’t mean there’s a stick up my ass [though it kinda does] and it doesn’t mean I’m too cool for raffles [or am I?!?!?!?!], it just means I’m not the yelping kind,” but then as they called the numbers the excitement of winning actually coalesced into a yelp, which was a relief.
Sort of like when you go to the gynecologist and she confirms that all your parts are in working order as opposed to your fear, which is that she’ll recoil in horror, having seen something the likes of which I can’t even figure out right now, seeing as I’m already wishing I hadn’t taken this blog post in that direction. I know what you’re thinking though and yes, women can be doctors.
Um, where was I? Have I said too much? Just to continue on this dark path for a moment, it’s also like how you may wonder what you’ll do if you get a call saying someone died or if you have to call 911. Will it be like how you see it on TV? Having experienced both of those I can say that yes, the emotions come at the appropriate times, and perhaps I’m the only one that wondered about that?
In other news it’s raining cats and dogs in New York. What web sites do you guys use to get the weather forecast? I use twitter. But also weather dot com. But I wonder if there’s a better one.
I demand equal mustard
Quietly plotting your demise
It never ceases to baffle me how much the spiciness of mustard can vary from bottle to bottle of the very same mustard. Why is this? Do the spices get inside the jar and then go nuts, potentiating like mad, egging each other on to greater levels of heat? In fact, if I had a pet cause it would be mustard standardization because I feel when you buy a bottle or jar or squeeze container or drum or mustard keg or party ball of mustard, you should know what you’re in for. When I go to Washington, which I will be doing right after this blog post, I will march on the steps and demand standardized mustard for the homeless because right now, while you are tucked safely in your comfortable thousand island world, there is some poor soul out there burning his or her tongue… on the truth. You can’t handle this mustard!
I need your award-winning cookie recipes (AKA orgy at the cookie party)
You guys, I’m going to a cookie party and I need an award-winning cookie recipe.
A cookie party, for those unfamiliar, is where a bunch of bored suburbanites get together and eat cookies and then have sex with each other and then eat more cookies. In between all the crazy sex, or instead of it really, there will be a cookie contest and I pretty much need to win it because I’m a sore loser. In 1983 I won a trophy for “good sportsmanship” at tennis camp and I took it and smashed it into a million little pieces because what I heard was “here’s your trophy for shitty tennis playing.” And then when I was 10 I came in fourth place or maybe sixth place in pony showmanship at the horrible summer camp I went to and actually I didn’t care at all, I just wanted to get the hell out of that camp and I was sick of the way the pony kept pushing me into chain link fences (truly. the pony wasn’t “broken” entirely which is upsetting terminology but that’s the language of equestrian whatnot. Anyway, this short but spirited four legged menace was half wild pony and half demon and it kept pushing me into various obstacles on our walk from the barn to the show ring) which is to say I was surprised I placed and won a ribbon at all.
And then before I won some first place press club awards for my writing I won some second and third place awards which are dead to me.
I think you see what I’m driving at: I need some dynamic cookies. Cookies that are charismatic and win you over and possibly perform feats of amazing carbohydrate wonder. What if I told you this cookie could peck out yankee doodle on a tiny piano? Exactly.
So if you happen to be sitting on a recipe do send that over or put it in the comments, won’t you?
And allow me to come clean on two fronts: I didn’t really smash the good sportsmanship trophy. And there probably won’t be an orgy at the cookie party.
Facts of Life Christmas plus some info about cheese
I’ve been occasionally listening to channel 633 on my cable box which is Sounds of the Season which mostly leaves me feeling jolly but also frustrated by the ease with which people refer to Rudolph as Rudy. He’s just not a Rudy to me, you know? He’s barely a Rudolph. He looks like a Todd. Anyway, when not getting overly familiar with said reindeer, the channel sometimes plays “We Need a Little Christmas” which is cool and all, but the official version just is nowhere near as awesome as the Facts of Life version, and I realize I’m probably the lone person in the world who feels this way and do I even feel it or am I being ironic? Or worse, ironical? God, I don’t even know anymore. I don’t think so?
I do genuinely love this while also recognizing and one might say celebrating its cheese. Maybe *I* am cheese? But if so what type? Have I told you about my sister and my cheese game? It’s called Cow, Sheep or Goat and the way you play is you say a cheese and then have to guess what kind of milk it’s made with. The problem is that soon you’ll realize you actually have no idea what kind of milk most cheeses are (cheese is?) made with beyond the obvious unless you happen to have spent copious amounts of time in a dank cave in France doing untoward things with curds. If so, please be on my team next time we play the game. In the meantime, enjoy the hunk of gouda below.