...and I hate them even more when they're in movie theaters.

We just went to go see Spider-Man 2, and I know, it's opening night. That was our first mistake.

The Buckle was super psyched to see the movie, so I said, "Sure, why not?" Now, I've given up the practice of going to opening weekends a long time ago because that's when all the stupid assholes who think it's funny to hoot and holler and talk decide to go.

And sure enough, even though I silently hoped and prayed that the price of $11.00 a ticket would somehow magically keep said-assholes out of my theater...it wasn't to be. Of course there was this jackass who thought it was funny to yell, "WOOOO!" every time Spider-Man did something spiderish, and his douche-troop of merry idiots laughed everytime.

So tonight, I propose a new idea. Forget getting the theater to give you your money back, it's not their fault. From now on, I'm going to find a way to sue all these assholes for my eleven bucks. This also goes for constant talkers, loud children, cell phones, and people who bring babies to loud movies. Oh, and anyone from the age of fourteen to eighteen who don't have a job or aren't accompanied by parents.

And while we're talking about things that I hate, let me mention the worst ad campaign EVER, the Fantanas.

Go ahead, Sarah, what are your thoughts?

Click to enlarge.

Roadface,

I wrote my last letter to you on Thursday night about how you're basically rude and disgusting. I just wanted to add total moron to that list.

YOUR LAUNDRY IS STILL ON TOP OF DRYER FROM THURSDAY NIGHT, YOU FREAK!

Good LORD.

- Dave

[THE WORST UPDATE EVER - 9:32 AM: I stepped out my front door and Roadface is sitting at her dining room table (which is inexplicably next to her front door), and though her door I heard her say on the phone, "Michael, I had [relations] with him last night."

One of these days I'm just going to cry out, "I CAN HEAR YOU!"

She also FINALLY got her laundry and proceeded to leave both the laundry room door open and the security gate which would allow just any passer-by to come steal all our clothes that are in the wash. I'm SO calling the landlord Monday.

Ugh. I'm buying a house.]

[PISSED OFF UPDATE - 12:58 PM: So I go to get my last load out of the dryer and my wet towels are sitting miserably in my basket. Roadface took it upon herself to take my towels out of the washer so she could start laundry. It's still going to be another hour before they're done. And of course, she left all the damn doors and gates open!

Mom, Dad...if you're looking for me, I've been arrested for assult.]

To our dearest neighbor, Roadface:

A few years ago, I was living at home. In this home, I had a brother. My brother and I have always led very different lives and this led to many battles about how my lovely brother really had no respect for the people around him and could care less that he was bothering me with his loud music late at night and screaming alarm early in the morning.

I clearly remember thinking, "I can't wait until I move out because people don't act like this in the real world..."

Well, I'm an idiot.

You, Roadface, have single handedly taken my hopes and smashed them into millions and millions of really sad pieces. You slam your door every time you go in or out of it. You're home all day and yet you start laundry right as the rest of us, who work for a living, are arriving home. You play your horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE music (Michael Bolton, Enrique Iglesias, Paula Cole, etc.) to an almost embarrassing level. You leave all the security gates open and the laundry door allowing anyone to just come and go. You have "relations" with your male friend...in your living room...with the patio door open...so we can all get ill at once imagining what's going on over there.

And to top it off, you left your "unmentionables" in the dryer when it was my turn to use it and I had to touch your stuff to put mine in.

Just...nasty.

Sincerely,

Dave and Connie

Kyle mananged to score a couple of passes to see an advanced screening of Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle.

All I'm going to say is that America is not ready for such incredible use of cheetahs and Neil Patrick Harris.

There's no other word in the human language right now that makes me as randomly furious as the word "carbs."

You know what? Wheat was one of the first grains man learned to grow and harvest. We've been eating carbs for millions of years and for the most part, we've been just fine. And then dead Dr. Atkins comes along and makes people forsake our history.

I'm actually thinking of marketing a line of food and beverages that are TWICE the amount of carbs than normal foods. It won't sell at all, but it's the principle of the matter.

The Exploding Blender/Food Processor/Mixer.

You know the gag. "Oh crazy! I'm either a fool in the kitchen or someone said something shocking and I turned the blender on and it spewed all over!"

Bury it. Deep.

Aside from the lame and obvious title of this post, today is my last day on the job before I move to bigger things on Monday. It feels weird because I've never really moved up in any job before.

I'm sure that feeling will be long gone when I'm a VP in two years.

Just saw the Olympic torch go by our building. Sometimes being 21 stories up has its benefits.

One of the negative aspects to finally moving out of your parents house is that there's no one around you can sucker into taking your car to the mechanic during the day.

Sunday evening, my brakes began to emit that shredding metal sound that says, "Hey buddy, it's time to replace the brakes that were probably factory issued on this car."

So I called around on Monday, and for whatever stupid reason, every brake repair place in Los Angeles is only open during the hours I work (hence the call for the personal assistant).

Due to this, I put together a series of tactics that you can follow to make getting your brakes fixed almost free.

1. Soundtrack - Find a CD that you really like to blast in your car. Make sure it's good and loud when you drive, that way you can't hear the squeaking. Then you can say, "I don't hear any noise, just the ROCK of TESLA!"


2. Eye Contact - Chances are that everyone around you is going to know that you need your brakes fixed. When people hear that noise, they instinctively seek out the source. When you see their eyes casing traffic, just don't make eye contact with them. If you don't admit you have a problem, then you don't really have a problem.


3. Camoflauge - This is based on the "ugly friend" principle. Find a car in far worse condition than yours and stick near it. When you brakes squeak, people are going to think it's coming from the rust heap.


4. Strategy - The most obvious plan is to stop as little as possible. Your brakes won't scream if you don't use them, right? This opens the doors for fun games like, Am I Going To Rear End You? and Don't Mind My Rolling Stop. And don't forget my personal favorite, Red Light Means Step On It!

YEEEEEEEEEEAH! Lakers SUCK!

"I've seen a lot of L.A. and I think it's also a place of secrets: secret houses, secret lives, secret pleasures. And no one is looking to the outside for verification that what they're doing is all right." - L.A. Story

Los Angeles is great because it seems that the city moves at its own pace, writes its own rules, follows its own trends. But at the same time, this individualism leads to some behavior that just doesn't make sense and there's no one around to say, "What? Are you stupid?"

I've compiled a list of current trends that the country of Los Angeles hold dear to them and I've noted why these things are not as cool as Angelinos believe they are.

If you see something I'm missing, feel free to e-mail me.

1. BMWs - Back in the Illinois suburbs, BMWs meant you had some extra cash and could afford a cushy ride. Out here, every idiot and their mother drives a BMW. The SUV is to the Midwest as the Beemer is to the West Coast. And most of the time, they aren't even new BMWs. They're lower end models or ten years old.


2. The Lakers - Yeah, they suck. Get over it. All you damn Lakers fans who think they're the greatest team ever need to shut up and listen.
   
   First of all, you're doing it with OUR coach. Phil Jackson took a team of no-names (except for Jordan and Pippen) and took them to the top several times. So far, Phil hasn't done so well out here.
   
   Second, the Lakers organization was just trying to buy a ring. Their line-up reads like an all-star roster. There's no heart to your win. There's no John Paxton forcing up a gorgeous last second three pointer.


3. Valet Tickets - When cars get the royal treatment out here, they put a little tab under the wiper blade of your car. And some people just think it's cool to leave that stupid little stub there. "I was able to afford valet parking this weekend, meh." When you can get valet parking at any mall out here, it's not that cool.


4. High Heels and Blue Jeans - It's the weekend...at the grocery store...why are you trucking all over in those nasty, pointy-toed heels? They make your butt stick out and you make a lot of noise when you walk. Just because you're wearing heels does not mean you're making buying milk any more sexy.


5. Name Dropping - You're in Hollywood. Of course you're going to see celebrities or know a guy who knows a guy who knows someone. So what if you interviewed Peter Gallagher or Rachel Bilson was climbing all over you like a monkey looking for a banana. Get over yourself.


6. Von Dutch - Yeah, it's dead. It's been dead. Trucker hats, sweatbands on the forearms, uggs, they're all dead.


7. Talking Loudly on Cell Phones - More specifically, doing it just so people know you're talking to someone. We get it, you have friends. Congrats. Now shut up and go away.


8. Avocadoes - They're everywhere, that's great. But just STOP putting them on EVERYTHING! I do NOT what avocado on my BLT. I know they're supposed to be good for me, but just stop trying to sneak them into my food.


9. Partying Like You're 22 - You know what? You're 42. You don't fit in those clothes and chances are you look like hell when you're drunk. Go tuck your kids in.


10. Script Deals - You've got one? That's great. I mean really, that's so awesome. Wow. Neato. Really? You're from the Midwest also and you've always dreamed about breaking into showbiz and your agent is shopping your script around? Oh wow, and you're working the mailroom at Paramount? Wow. Paramout. I'll see you at the top my friend!
    
    Script deal = "I'm paying $1200 a month for a bachelor apartment that I can barely afford by delivering pizzas in my Geo Storm."


11. Ashton Kutcher - He's not funny. He's not even that good looking. Quit drawing attention to him and he'll go away.

Due to my crazed Hollywood lifestyle, I have decided that I need to hire a personal assistant. Please send me your resume if you're interested in this once-of-a-lifetime opportunity.

Kyle and I were out in the hills today with an appointment to meet one of Hollywood's A-listers (but due to current and on going stipulations, I can't tell you who). This is the view from just below his house.

In the end, we had to cancel the meeting (to be rescheduled) because while we were out there, his assistant called and said, "Evidently he's getting on a plane."

That's gold. Eccentric gold.

Jeff: Ray Charles died.
Dave: So I see. I guess you could say, he never saw it coming.
Dave: SHABLAM!

I just gave away my last Gmail invite without getting anything I wanted.

I'm a pushover.

Oh, Sarah. Not again...

Looks like I've got myself THREE TWO ONE ZERO Gmail invites...Sorry, all gone.

Who's interested? Not sure what I'll start the bidding at yet though...Hmm...Hmm...Hmm...

E-mail me.

Oh! Or a sweet board.

Here's a gallery of all the pictures I have taken so far with my phone.

I lead a sweet life.

I bought Jumpin' Jack Flash on the lot today.

In future news, Connie ran me down with the car.

High points, or low points, of the evening:

1. Kyle constantly referring to his poker guide.
2. Kyle holding his cards like a woman as he refers to the guide.
3. Kyle not being able to deal cards and forcing others to get their replacement cards.
4. Kyle on his knees pushing a large, metal Tonka truck, then asking "Who am I?" We all stare as he replies, "Owen!" Then, in an act of God, Kyle stands up, kicks the Tonka truck which destroys his foot and proceeds to fall all over the dining room. God is great.
5. Sarah laying down her cards and saying, "Two queens." Kyle then instinctively saying, "Two Princes."
6. Sarah repeating, "You ARE Gary Ford!" somewhere near 100 times.

I can't wait until next weekend.

...Or TBS if you prefer.

TBS Superstation unveiled its new logo this week, and all I can think of is that the bottom half of the logo is to celebrate Kim Cattrall's horrifying chest in that show made for desperate chicks.

Kyle celebrates his freedom.


Buckle celebrates his sweet chicks (I don't know why he looks so freaky).

Where else could I seriously say, "Today at work a guy named The Buckle hit me in my bathing suit area with a boom mic?"

Seriously. Can you say that about your job?

Kyle's last ride.


Kyle's last ride looking at Kyle's last ride.

[SCENE: Last night, 11pm. Dave and Connie are conversing when the following moment occured.]

DAVE: "Rectum!? Damn near killed him!"
CONNIE: Oh my God...I seriously just got that one.

Connie Sommerville ladies and gentleman!

[slow clap]

For the first three weeks I had my new cellphone number, I was getting this crazy phone number on my caller ID. It was one digit longer than normal so I believe they were international calls.

So I picked up one night and said "hello" about three times before I heard a quiet little, "hola." I must have said, "wrong number" in reply to a few more "hola's" before I blurted out "numero incorrecto!"

After that I saved the number in my phone's phonebook as "Numero Incorrecto" and I'd shake my head and say, "Numero Incorrecto, when will you learn?"

Numero Incorrecto hasn't called lately. I hope they're okay.