My childhood hero, Mr. T's most quotable quotes while promoting his now-canceled show: "I Pity The Fool" (please, read this in a Mr. T voice):
"I don't teach hockey. I don't know hockey. I don't teach tennis. I don't know tennis. I know there's a lot of love going on in tennis. Dirty love."
On the subway today, I sat next to a fairly attractive mid-40s woman who was sitting next to a very young kid, no older than five. She was talking to the kid, who was rambling on about some toys he got on his last birthday.
The woman said "I have toys too" and I thought to myself "what toys could you possibly have?" and I began to smile imagining the toys she would own.
For the movie Soul Man, starring C. Thomas Howell, where a rich white kid puts on black face makeup to get a scholarship to Harvard:
"He didn't give up, he got DOWN!"
Ugh.
Last night, I had the biggest culture shock of my life. I went to P. Diddy's birthday party. It was weird and crazy and intense and all those other adjectives one would expect. But out of all the huge celebs in attendance, the only person I was a giddy fanboy around was....
People. Seriously. This is not the Wild West. There are rules for these things. And the rules clearly state that you CANNOT give yourself a nickname. Period. End of story.
Wouldn't life be easier if diapers and bibs were acceptable forms of clothing for a night out on the town? No, really, humor me with this for a minute.
You may notice a familiar face in the "Good Cop/Gay Cop" sketch. That face is the hunky, handsome, gorgeous manmeat known as Keith Powell. The other guy is Johnny Messner. He's not so bad either.
My summer has been pretty packed and I'm now just getting back into a rhythm of normalcy. Yep, normalcy. Nothin' but coked-up strippers, ecstasy binges, and questionable weekend benders on Fire Island from here on out. Normalcy.
But seriously...
