So, like, this big shot dignitary arrived here late yesterday, and there’s been a huge amount of buzz about the dude, who rumor has it is a Latin American politician of some significant renown. I haven’t had a chance to see him yet — Brittany Murphy mumbled his name to me while we were chilling out watching a Blossom marathon, but I can’t remember it, and frankly, she was so full of Ketamine that I doubt she had it right, anyway — but there is a meet-and-greet scheduled for later this afternoon at one of the Hooter’s here, which I’ll probably hit if only for the happy hour wings and margaritas, and on the off-chance one of the waitresses has a nostalgic streak, saw Dream a Little Dream II, and wants to snack on the naughty bits of the Haimster, either in a bathroom stall or at her place after her shift ends (my own digs being littered at the moment with rank Haitian squatters whom I made the mistake of letting crash a month or so back in exchange for two tiny balloons of really crappy heroin).
Now, I’m not one to get my hopes up — Lord knows I haven’t had the greatest luck the past few years, starting with being suddenly dead and just last week culminating in a bout of whiskey-fed impotence (with an oiled-up River Phoenix silk-tied to a four post bed, no less!) — but that aside, I can be pretty charming when I put my mind to it, whether it be to a chicken wing waitress with awesome tits or to some swarthy South American pol who doesn’t yet know the lay of the land and might be in the market for a networked-in friend.
— And trust me when I say that I plan to lay the charm on thick when I meet this Jefe. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all the swarthy Latin politicians I’ve partied with around here the last several years, it’s that every last one of these fat sons of bitches has access to some of the best coke you’ve ever run across your gums, or let Ernest Borgnine lick off your sack.
It’s uncanny, in fact. All I can figure is, they must know people. Plus have, like, an otherworldly distribution set up.
Though that’s not even the best part. The best part is that it’s an easy get, too, especially if you have the code words down. I mean, from each according to his ability, to each according to his need, right, my swarthy South American compadres…? And this brother needs a hookup. Like, super bad.
Man. Sometimes it can suck, but other times, Heaven just flat out fucking rocks!
Yayy!! The Jeff of old is back! Masterful..
Prior to this moment, I’d never once contemplated Ernest Borgnine licking cocaine off of anyone’s scrotum.
So that’s ruined now. So much for the innocence of youth.
Y’know, if you step up your game a little more, you might be able to get to the level where you’re not only ‘not invited’ to CPAC, but actively prevented from attending, ala Pam Geller. Given their embrace of Donald Trump, Jeb Bush, et al, that might be a smart marketing move, I’m thinkin’.
Well, at least now it’s clear where Corey is. Heaven!
I always figured that once he’d licked powder off your sack, he let you call him “Ernie.” I mean, let’s face it — you’ve pretty much gone beyond the need for stuffy formalities, amirite?
I think at that point he’d let you call him “teabaggee” or “Human Shar-Pei” or “late for dinner.” At least for a while.
Don Rickles once said to Ernie: “Look at you! Was anyone else hurt in the accident?”
Don’t mess with Borgnine. That guy has a crew, IYKWIM
And he was on Freakazoid back in the day, which was awesome.
I’ll always love Ernie for Escape from New York.
But not enough to let him near my sack.
Just so’s we’re clear.
I hope it’s okay to claim that if Corey sees Ernie where he is, it’s a figment of his imagination.
So. Corey Haim thinks he’s in Heaven?
He might want to take an informal poll of the types that populate his afterlife.
Corey Haim’s afterlife sucks. He may be cooling his heels in Purgatory.
“Jeff G. says March 6, 2013 at 2:39 pm
I’ll always love Ernie for Escape from New York.”
I hear that he was really something else in The Black Hole.
*CRICKETS*
Yeah…okay,I’ll just…I’m gonna leave now.
*Screen door slams*
He might want to take an informal poll of the types that populate his afterlife.
The dude was seldom lucid here on Earth. Why would he be any more observant in the hereafter?
When is Whitney going to make an appearance?
If Whitney’s around, Corey will never see another gram of coke again.
Jan-Michael Vincent. ‘Nuff said.
Even in the midst of an all-encompassing total war, true friends will take the time to speak out in loving memory of their compatriots. And who better could speak honestly the sentiments of the Syrian people?
Bashar Assad: Chavez death ‘great loss for me and Syrian people’
To me, Ernest Borgnine will always be “Dutch” from The Wild Bunch.
Syrians Bashar Assad has kindly sent to meet his friend Chavez.
McHale’s Navy, Airwolf, and as Mermaid Man on Spongebob.
[…]
What?
The Devil’s Rain ftw.
[…] ← Previous Post […]
Ice Station Zebra, Poseidon Adventure, Jesus Of Nazareth [as The Roman Centurion], as well.
Whadda you wanna do tonight?
I dunno, whadda you wanna do?
How ’bout we hang a brain on a washed-up eighties teen idol?
OK Marty.
13 seems to be your lucky Twitter number.