Did you read/hear/barf about the French woman who received the world’s first partial face transplant? Seriously. A face transplant.

Basically, what happened was this French woman was sleeping when, all of the sudden, she woke up and discovered her dog had eaten most of her face/off. Doctors quickly replaced her face with Nicolas Cage’s face. She was then sent to giant magnetic prison in the middle of the ocean.

This is what The Guardian says happened:

After a bad week, the seamstress had taken a large dose of sleeping pills “to forget”.

Wait, stop right there. To forget? This is already an amazing story.

Reporter: So, how’d you lose your face?
No-face Lady: Well, it all started when I took a large dose of sleeping pills.
Reporter: And what was your reason for taking such a large dose of sleeping pills? 
No-face Lady: Oh, you know. “To forget.”

I could seriously walk away from this story right here and be totally satisfied. But, no. The story only gets better (not better).

She woke on her sofa and tried to light a cigarette, and then noticed blood and the presence of her dog beside her. Looking in the mirror, she discovered her terrible injuries. 

AAAAAAAAHHHH! She didn’t know she didn’t have a face until she tried to light a cigarette? What clued her in exactly? The not having lips part? Jesus. I bet she hates that dog.

She said she had “no hatred” for her labrador-cross Tanya, who she felt had been trying to save her.

Correct. I just looked up the word “save” in a dog dictionary:

save: /seɪv/
–verb (used with object)

1.to rescue from danger or possible harm, injury, or loss
2. to keep safe, intact, or unhurt
3. to rip off and eat a human’s face
4. to avoid the spending, consumption, or waste of bones

Anyway, she got a donor face and the rest is medical history:

BTW, the donor face came from a woman who killed herself. So…therefore…I can’t handle reading science news anymore.

All things considered, you have to admit she looks great (”great” means “permanently photoshopped,” right?). Although, I think it was pretty rude of the surgeons to graft a voice bubble like that, dontchya think? (JK, you guys! I did that part myself! [COMEDY!])

(more…)

Noah and I are coming to Boston tomorrow to participate in a Vice Magazine/Dewar’s Scotch Debate. The topic will be ”Meat vs. Veggie.” It should be really fun. We will be very hip and very drunk. So, if you live in Massachusetts and love me and/or Noah, and/or fake debates, and/or free comedy, and/or free booze, you should come check it out.

A poster:

(more…)

The official trailer for Yeti: A Love Story came out today.

So. Fucking. Embarrassing.

I seriously want to kill myself after watching that. But, if I did, my participation in that movie would be the last thing I ever got onto IMDB. And, therefore, I must carry on.

Here’s the description that went along with it:

It’s “King Kong” meets “Brokeback Mountain” in “Yeti: A Love Story”, a gay themed horror-comedy about a homicidal and wildly homosexual mountain yeti!

Me: “Seriously, Dad, just because I’m in a movie about a gay bigfoot who rapes boys in the woods, that doesn’t make me gay.”
My Dad: “…”
Me: “I don’t even get raped in the movie. I get shot in stomach as I run through the woods in my underwear.”  
My Dad: “…”
Me: “To get away from the gay bigfoot!”

My sincerest congratulations to Adam and E-Rock for getting national distribution on Yeti. I just wish you guys would please go back and pixelate my face out.

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…)

So, the blogosphere is abuzz about Cam’Ron’s (two apostrophes = so tight) appearance on 60 Minutes last night.

Many bloggers (or, “faggitz” in Cam’Ronese) seem to think he came off as both stupid and ignorant in the piece, which portrayed him as the posterboy for the Stop Snitchin’ movement in hip-hop. Most are trying to prove Killa Cam’s moral depravity by citing this soundbite:

“If I knew the serial killer was living next door to me? I wouldn’t call and tell anybody on him — but I’d probably move. But I’m not going to call and be like, ‘The serial killer’s in 4E.’”

What’s the problem with that? It’s like I say: let a playa play, let a killa kill.

I’ve said it many times, but if someone were to take the time to make up a Venn Diagram comparing me and Cam’Ron, I think there would be a lot of overlap.

(click to enlarge)

We’re like two G’s in an iPod. I also would never tell the police if I lived next door to a serial killer. I know this is true because when I was in high school I actually didn’t tell the police that I lived next door to a serial killer. 

You see, a good portion of my teenage years was spent watching the strange nighttime activities of my across-the-street neighbor Brent Mooseburger (his first name has been changed for confidentiality (’Mooseburger’ was his actual last name, and also the funniest last name ever)). Mr. Mooseburger seemed like any other ordinary 500 pound slob of a man who mowed his 10′x10′ front lawn with a riding mower.

Here he is with his brother:

The Mooseburger house faced my bedroom, and every couple weeks I would watch the same creepy event unfold: At about 3am, with the light of the full moon illuminating his front yard, Brent Moosebuger would exit his front door and shake hands with a handsome blond man who drove a red Corvette. The blond man would then enter the Mooseburger house, retrieve heavy sacks from inside, and throw them in the back of a rented Ryder truck. After that, the blond man would leave in the Ryder truck and Brent Mooseburger would light a cigar and start shoveling dirt into his basement through a broken window.

(more…)

I’m doing shows here all week. (Right here, in front of the In-N-Out Burger in Sherman Oaks.)

A lot of comedians I know needlessly shit on the Blue Collar Comedy Tour. Now, I’ll admit that watching Larry the Cable Guy can make one think that good ol’ boy comedy is just a brazenly dull, unoriginal, often racist and homophobic, waste of time. But there is a lesser-known talent on the Blue Collar bill, by the name Bill Engvall, who–while I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily white-collar–is definitely a much lighter shade of blue than his colleagues. Seriously, he’s fantastic. I didn’t know anything about him until I watched his Comedy Central special last week. Needless to say, it changed my life.

Bill Engvall delves deep into the issues people care about, saying the types of things most of us are afraid to say.

Now, I know full well most people will be skeptical about this, but they also would never take the time to sit down and watch an entire hour of Engvall (the risk of being caught in the act is much too scary for them). But I feel so passionate about this, that I have gone ahead and condensed Bill Envall’s special, “15 Degrees Off Cool” into a 45 second clip. It may be bite-sized, but it’s all there. I hope you enjoy it:

(more…)