I just got an orange juice at the nearby deli and happened to overhear this conversation between the two Chinese women working the cash registers.

Chinese Woman #1: Why it’s so slow today?

Chinese Woman #2: Today is Jew Day in America.

(Chinese Woman #1 then covered her mouth and giggled for 15 seconds.)

Every once in a while when you take the subway in New York City, the train stops without warning and remains idle for a very long time. Eventually, a fuzzy voice comes on the intercom and informs the passengers that the delay is from someone on the train having a medical emergency. The fuzzy voice then thanks you for your patience and promises things will be moving shortly. Obviously, it’s annoying to be late for work, but it’s important to put yourself in the position of the sick person; at the very least, you’d expect people to be understanding and accommodating while you were trying to get off a train and into a hospital.

Anyway, a delay of this sort occurred on my ride to work this morning. I was aboard a packed N train, listening to my iPod and reading Newsweek, when the conductor suddenly hit the brakes and everything came to a screeching stop. This happens a couple times a month, so I thought nothing of it. But, after about 10 minutes I realized we still hadn’t moved. I looked up from my magazine to see what was going on. To my surprise, I noticed there was a good 10-15 foot clearing around me on all sides. People were backing away from me like I was some sort of monster, all of them staring at me with looks of terror on their faces.

Turns out, I was the one having the medical emergency! Apparently, I had been barfing. A lot. Like, it was all over the place. I guess I was so caught up in what I was reading I didn’t notice that every time I exhaled, a thick arc of vomit was exploding out of my mouth. God, I felt like such a doof. There must have been three or four gallons of my vomit on the floor.  Soooo embarrassing!

I think all the uncontrollable barfing was just my body’s natural reaction to reading an editorial piece written by actor Michael Douglas in the latest issue of Newsweek entitled, “The Role of a Lifetime.” In it, we discover that Michael Douglas thinks a weekly news magazine is the perfect forum to publish the first draft of his family’s Christmas Newsletter.

(Warning: If you read this, you will probz barf.)

I’ve been married for seven years to an extraordinary woman 25 years younger than me, actress Catherine Zeta-Jones. We have two children, a daughter, 4, and a son, 7. To say my priorities have changed would be a gross understatement!…They are at a precious age, and I don’t want to miss a minute of it…Carys is at the stage when she’s discovered “dress-up”: purses, high heels–anything pink. Dylan is a big climber–rocks, mountains and trees. He loves the outdoors. I read with my kids every night. That has become a favorite for me.

Awww. That’s great, Michael Douglas! I’m so glad this is in a news magazine! What else, pray tell, is new with the Douglas fam?

We’ve moved to the island of Bermuda, where I spent a lot of time as a kid.

Who didn’t spend a lot time in Bermuda as a kid? Seriously though, how has your life changed since you moved to back to Bermuda?

I adjust my schedule to my wife’s, since she is in the prime of her career.

Wasn’t the prime of her career back when she was in movies and stuff? Whatever. All I really want to know is this: what is it like for Michael Douglas to be a day-to-day daddy? 

The kids know what Mommy does for a living, but they have never seen Daddy’s movies (they’re too young), so Mommy makes movies and Daddy makes pancakes!

HAHA! Daddy makes pancakes! Really? Michael Douglas making pancakes. That’s wonderful. 

I don’t really cook, but I am the takeout and home-delivery expert.

SO THE TRUTH COMES OUT!  You sly dog, you. Of course you don’t cook. That is too funny. All jokes aside, what about you, Michael Douglas? How are you doing? Didn’t moving to Bermuda make it impossible for you to do acting work? What about the projects you really care about?

Don’t get me wrong. I still go to work, but now only on projects I really care about. I have a new movie coming out called “King of California.” We filmed it in only 31 days, not like some of the 90-day shooting schedules of the past.

Thank God. That’s fantastic. Hey, could you possibly tell me more about this “King of California” project?

I play a father who reconciles with his 17-year-old daughter, played by Evan Rachel Wood. I understood and identified with the role. My oldest son from my first marriage, Cameron, who is 28, did not benefit from my new priorities. He was shortchanged. Nevertheless he understands now, and he knows how much I love him.

Well, if he doesn’t know, all he has to do is read Newsweek like the rest of us. 

When I went to college at the University of California, Santa Barbara, in the 1960s, you could graduate with a degree in home economics. It was eventually disbanded largely due to politics and the power of the women’s movement.

What?

I’m happy to see that “home ec” is currently being revived at some colleges.

Seriously, Michael Douglas, what the fuck are you talking about?

Basically, you want to try to leave this earth having given more to it than having taken away. That makes you a good citizen of the planet. If I can pass this on from generation to generation, that’s as close to immortality as I can hope to get.

Oh, really? You really think that? You don’t possibly think your two Oscars might immortalize you? Oops, guess what? You just got PLIPPS. And so did your kids. Even the damaged 28 year-old. PLIPPS. Also, the entire staff at Newsweek for letting this get published…PLIPPS. PLIPPS. PLIPPS. 

Consider the following:

1. Anti-freeze toothpaste.
2. Cardboard dumplings.
3. Babies full of needles.
4. Dragon bone consumption.
5. Really bad headaches.
6. 2 billion rats.
7. No Simpsons.
8. Organ harvest prisons.
9. Dog holocaust.
10. Slave kids.
11. Old lady penguin feet.
12. Molten metal accidents.
13. Cyborg pigeons.
14. Faulty penis transplants.
15. Blood-red poop rivers.

No thank you.

In case you missed it, this is the video Noah and I made for last night’s show. It’s madd stupid, son.

(more…)

Cheese heroin? Are you kidding me? I’m so glad that didn’t exist when I was a teen.

Drug Dealer: Hey kid, wanna buy some heroin for two dollars?
Teenage Me: Not really.
Drug Dealer: What if I told you it was cheese heroin?
Teenage Me: Ha! What is that? Like, cheese that gets you high?
Drug Dealer: Cheese that gets you super high.
Teenage Me: I’ll take ten, please. Thank you.

You know how kids get when they see balloons of cheese heroin.

Authorities hope to stop the fad before it spreads across the nation.

…Like delicious Philadelphia cream cheese.

…On a meth bagel.

That dude is great. His favorite band is The String Cheese Heroin.

(I could do this all day.)

“Cheese heroin” is a blend of so-called black tar Mexican heroin and crushed over-the-counter medications that contain the antihistamine diphenhydramine, found in products such as Tylenol PM.

First of all, who’s on black tar heroin and thinks to himself, “I could really go for some extra-groggy heroin right about now.”

Secondly, why wouldn’t you just call it Heroin PM?

Drug treatment centers in Dallas say teen “cheese” addicts are now as common as those seeking help for a marijuana addiction.

Drug Counselor: Can I help you?
Teenage Me: Hi. So, I have a problem with cheese and marijuana.
Drug Counselor: How long have you snorting on the cheese?
Teenage Me: No, that’s not it. My problem is…right after I smoke pot, I will literally eat anything coated in cheese dust. Chips, pretzels, candy bars. It’s disgusting. And then I get orange stains all over my clothes.
Drug Counselor: Uh huh…
Teenage Me: And I just wanted to know if you thought Oxy-Clean would work. Or do you recommend Shout wipes?
Drug Counselor: I don’t really know if I’m comfortable answering that question.
Teenage Me: Uhm, hello? I’m seeking your drug counsel over here.
Drug Counselor: That’s not really how it works.

This weekend I discovered my new favorite TV show:

Man vs. Wild is a Discovery Channel program that teaches viewers how to survive in uninhabited parts of the world if you are a completely insane English person.

Here are two reasons to watch this show.

This:

And this:

What a lunatic. And that’s just from one episode.

His name is Bear, by the way. (As in: a bear.)

(more…)

Hugh Grant has gone off the deep end!

From BBC.com:

Hugh Grant has been arrested over an allegation he attacked a photographer in London, before throwing a tub of food at him.

Wait. A tub??! Of…food?!!?

Does that mean something in England? Because, to me, both of those things are very general terms that mean almost nothing when put together.

Are people in England just eating their breakfast, reading the newspaper, and suddenly like:

“Gee willickers! Did you read the article about Hugh Grant, my Love? He’s a complete loon, that one. He accosted a paparazzo with food!”
“You don’t say! How much food exactly?”
“The reporter claims at least a tub was thrown.”
“A tub? A full tub? Goodness, I hope he was arrested.”
“He certainly was.”
“Splendid. Rightly so. Tubs of food are not to be thrown, for they are stationary tubs.”
“Here, here! Well said. Well said, indeed.” 

Here are some pictures of the incident. (NSFW 4 Brutal Violence)

“Eat this, motherfucker!…No, seriously. Eat it. It’s food. It’s a tub of food.”

Holy shit! Is that guy okay? He came within a yard of being kicked! And those look like steel-toe New Balances.

(Just look how lame a country is when it has gun control.)

For reezies though, Hugh Grant looks like a maniac. This reminds me of that time when he got caught trying to fuck a black tranny prostitute…only crazier!