House of Wachs

DRINKING IRISH PATRIOT BLOOD

Two dudes, Brandon and Brett, going by an outfit named BRTV, posted a video of an inspired performance by a young broadcaster exhorting the crowd to commence drinking Guinness on St. Pats. This occurred before drinking. Not too shabby. It's nice to know this is the floor of such behavior with room to grow.

TWEENER WEEK

OK. OK! I've gotten about 2 emails asking what I'm doing during the holiday tweener times, so while I have some spare moments, I thought I'd put up an update.

YESTERDAY:

-I figured out the Bluetooth in my car. Then I called people for the novelty of it.

-I unclogged two drains in my bathroom with Liquid-Plumr. I don't agree with the spelling or the use of the hyphen, but it sure works well. Just don't get any on you.

-I went to Super H to look at the weird Korean foods. I bought an apple, a yogurt, and some rice cakes.

-I called my bank to get another check register sent to me.

"It'll just take a minute to pull up your records."   Why does it take a minute to pull up my records? Don't they have computers? Is there a line to use the computer? Is it an old XT?

-I watched "The TV Set" because it's from the guys who made "Walk Hard" and "Freaks and Geeks." It proved they are human.

TODAY

-I got more face surgery today. Last week's went so well, I decided to get more. Right now I am a little high from anti-pain meds, and I've made a nice pillow fort in my bed from which to blog at y'all. I'm pretending that I'm a Pakistan person reporting on the Bhutto murder from under a table in a sanctuary that has Wi-Fi.

-I started to watch The Brothers Solomon starring Will Forte. It made me feel as if I could write a Hollywood script, too. Then a friend called to make me watch C-Span. They were having a debate called "Lesser Known Candidates Debate" where they had on candidates who were not as well known. It made me feel as if I could run for president, too.

There's no video up yet, but they may repeat it. It was held in a library in New Hampshire, and the candidates came across not so much as wackos, but average, unpolished soap boxers who, owing to the fact that they dominated the internet message boards where they hung out, felt they had a shot of taking it to the next level, which naturally is the presidency. Of the ones that made sense, they all either had a speech impediment or hair style that made them unelectable.

-I updated my Garmin GPS map. I've been getting lost with it lately.

-I'm eating Rice Chex now. They are good. 

TOMORROW

-I'm going to speak to my agent about a few things.

-Eat pills

-Lie down and watch "Chuck and Larry Get Married."

CHRISTMAS LATKES

Mmmmmm! Organic ice cream sandwiches for dessert tonight. Right off the tree. Thank you, God.

I think the word organic, as a marketing phrase, has officially jumped the cruelty-free mako shark fillets in a lime-basil butter.

It even fooled me into believing it was healthier when they just kept it to meats and produce.

"These tomatoes are organic! Grown in a sun-kissed valley from the rich and loamy soil, pulled gently from the vine and on your table that evening. It''l make your hair grow back, lower your heart beat, and make your pecker, ZING!! Ha ha!

Not like those tomatoes over there, the wretches. Grown between the cracks of gritty urban sidewalks, surrounded by chalk outlines, and noise pollution. Then cut down by a machine...a machine!...which takes them when they're still GREEN!

And they go to a factory, where they're spraypainted red, and turn your guts into cancer. GET THEM OUT OF MY FRICKIN SIGHT!"

There's no difference except price, the cost of vanity raising the price of the organic stuff. Oh, and the organic stuff has somebody's poo on it, usually.

But then the marketers got greedy. Now, every product has an organic cousin and it's become meaningless because there is no health benefit to wearing organic shoes, or wearing organic deodorant. That can't possibly work. Body odor is as organic as it gets, and a product that tamps it down is the definition of unnatural. The circle of absurdity is complete.

Ya gotta admire Kosher. It's kept it's integrity through the lo-cal, lite, natural, oat bran, fat free, lo carb, and clear crazes.

No ham means NO! DAMN! HAM!

NO! NEVER!

SOUTHERN COMFORTABLE

The hell with holiday travel. I haven't left my house in 3 days. That's what Thanksgiving is all about. A chance to be openly depressed. The only reason I've showered is to get in some slap and tickle.

This is my first Thanksgiving in my own home in a decade. That's it. No more Thanksgiving travel for me for the next 5 years. If people in my life really like me, they'll show up.

My parents were the only ones who came this year. Not attending my Thanksgiving feast was the first thing my brother and his ex-wife have agreed upon since 2001, if I could brightside it.

My sister went to Jamaica for her father-in-law's wedding, which is OK, unless you consider it part of a continuing pattern of excuses, dating back to the days when I would lure her into the bathroom after I took a huge dump and locked her in with the odor, as to why she can't travel to Georgia more than once a decade. Maybe not a lot of flights here from NY.

Well, more food and fun for me.

Here's our premium quality, tightly cooped, genetically modified, assembly line slaughtered, frozen turkey.

Here's our turkey frying rig out back on the lush green barely legal lawn.

Old Man Pickle Nose prepares a post-breakfast snack. He's a good cook. His secret is aging. He treats every meal as if it could be his last.

We engage in sports.

Happy hour! Fresh guac and chips. I missed out because I was busy

Back to involvement in sports, and the film industry.

The two turkeys! HA! Brown and crispy, the way they serve it in heaven

Crispy potatoes. Don't they look good? Yeah, well, they were.

Crispy asparagus. I actually enjoy the smell my urine gives off after eating these.

Crispy cornbread stuffing. Tastes like manna, photographs like hell.

From scratch pecan/choco pie with a crispy crust and homemade caramel sauce spooged on it. One bite of this delight can supply the caloric needs of 10 children in Darfur for a month. It sure takes the pressure off the job search when you have this pie in the house.

Home made cranberry sauce with crispy bits of caramelized fruit. Oooh, doesn't that look tart and sweet? Yeah, you bet it does. It tastes like an orgasm. This is my contribution. I made it 3 days ago in the slow cooker. My secret is vanilla extract, brown sugar, and a special raisin wine from Spain. That's all I'm saying because I'm thinking of going national with this one day with a franchise chain of cranberry-centric eateries.

Cranny's. We'll even have a play area for kids with a giant cranberry bog they can swim around in after eating their cran-burgers and cran fries, and wash it down with some cranberry soda. We'll have cuddly characters like McDonald's has. Urethra the Clown will play up the cranberry's role in promoting urinary tract health.

Let the feast begin with a crispy turkey wing. The skin is like eating bacon. Turkey that tastes like bacon. Score! It's a club sandwich without those other non-essential ingredients. Fuck off toast, lettuce, cheese, and tomato.

Time for more athletics. Even OMPN is surprised at the ease with which the Falcons take it up the ass repeatedly.

Tea...because it gives the illusion of health.

Good night.

MAKE ME WET

What is it Thursday? Only took me 3 days to recover from the past weekend in Las Vegas. Not bad for going to bed at 1pm last Saturday. After that refreshing nap/sleep it was off to the Palms Hardwood Suite for a 40th birthday party of a pal which lasted until 3am Sunday morning.

I've been to parties that had a basketball court, and I've been to parties in hotel rooms, but never to a party in a hotel room that had a basketball court inside it off the living room.

The entire hotel room is bigger than my home.

I think I did a pretty good job on attire for such a unique event.

The sporty sweater and tasteful jeans say: "I'm eager to have conversation and cocktails."

The sneakers and t-shirt underneath say: "But I'm ready to drain some 3-pointers if necessary."

What are the statistics on hotel rooms being broken into that have their TVs left on? I take it on faith that doing this deters criminals and degenerates, but I'd like to see the numbers to back it up.

I don't think it works if you leave it on any channel. A criminal is not so stupid to think that a Vegas tourist is going to sit in their hotel room on a Saturday night watching the hotel services channel or CNN when all kinds of funs are going on outside, so I put it on ESPN before I set off--LOUD--because it's more plausible that a degenerate gambler could be in the room catching up on college football.

Las Vegas, being a mecca for terrorists looking for a little fun before blowing up some building in the name of Allah, has some of the scrutiniest airport security in the US. The lines are snakes before they get on the plane.

I was detained at McCarren Airport briefly Sunday because the woman with the lip mole and heavy accent at the security bottle neck was confused that the "Lawrence Wachs" on my driver's license, and the "Larry Wachs" on my boarding pass didn't match up.

ME: Larry is a nickname for Lawrence.

HER: Yes, but they are not the same.

ME: It's like Bobby is short for Robert. BTW, you might notice that the face and the last name all match up.

HER: But one says Larry and the other says Lawrence.

LADY BEHIND ME: It's like Robert and Bob.

HER: Is this your wife?

ME: No. She's an American. Everyone knows this.

HER: I am American, too (but she said it like a vampire would).

...and zzzziiip....out comes the nylon barrier. Now, I've gone and done it.

She went to see her supervisor for some guidance on American nomenclature, came back with her tail between her legs, but no apology, and let me proceed for another 23 minutes of line before I could get out of Vegas.

Again, I must ask. Where's the danger in nicknames?

I must say a trip to the desert really gives perspective on the drought situation here in GA. I saw no one in Las Vegas praying for anything but a gambling victory or avoiding an STD. Water was not discussed at all despite the eternal drought outside.

I do believe in the power of prayer and faith. I don't know exactly the chain of events prayer touches off to yield results, but I have a notion that it's similar to the "monkeys with typewriters" effect. If you put enough minds to work meditating on a single problem, somebody's liable to stumble upon a solution.

But the Governor leading a prayer for water is really asinine. What are we?  Whoville? 

Praying for rain is the wrong prayer, too. I'd pray for grass and flowers that don't need rain or for the skies to open up and drop Purell and good red wine on us on Sundays. Maybe war on on Alabama and Florida. As long as we're throwing a Hail Mary, let's aim for the end zone, you people.

As a voter, I'm concerned when an elected leader uses prayer as a first resort to fixing a practical problem. Why vote? Just install gypsy fortune tellers or Creflo Dollar as governor. His rainmaking is legendary.

I could understand if we were being overrun with zombies. When that day comes, I will stand with the Governor, humble before the Lord. I promise you.

But water is everywhere. It's just trapped under regulation and politics. Is it that hard to make the case that an inedible mollusk in Florida is less important than a nice shower and shvitz for 25 minutes? That's what fighting is for. Prayer, in this case, communicates surrender to the obstacles and a neglect of reason.

Oh, wait! It rained a 10th of an inch last night. Sweet vindication from our Father! This drought will be over in just 7 quick years.

Hey governor! I'm tired of walking upright. How about another prayer?

PLANT A CHILD

The sign outside Jackson Elementary School in Gwinnett says "Congratulations to Teacher of the Year, Nozomi Wade."

I could not in good conscience let my kid have a teacher named Nozomi. What is that? It's a nefarious distortion of Naomi by the fo' shizzle crowd, is what it is. Just rename it Dogg Elementary, so people know what they're getting themselves and their kids into. Jezeebus!

She likely got the award by being the best witch in the coven, teaching her charges to mindlessly recycle, maintain a brown lawn, share everything with strangers, and rat out their parents for non-compliance with Marxist initiatives.

I suppose that with Democrats already buying their dresses for Queen Cli'ton's inauguration in 2009, we'll be hearing a lot more about children in the coming year and how they really crave socialized medicine, and higher taxes, and mass transit. Grandchildren love these things too, of course.

Oh, here come some lovely children to my door now, trick-or-treating for carbon offsets this Halloween.

So precious. Innocent, yet socially conscious. Yes. I will help them so they can grow into....

ADULTS!

HALLOWEEN ATE MY BABY!

First, good news regarding Halloween. Due to my new fake teeth, this is my first Halloween where I have not been mockingly compared to a Jack-O-Lantern, so, yeah. I'm happy. But now some bad Halloween news:

Minorities less likely to trick or treat

Minorities are less likely to do lots of things. That's why they're called minorities. They are in the minority. Thanks for the breaking news.

Two-thirds of parents say their children will trick-or-treat this Halloween, but fewer minorities will let their kids go door to door, with some citing safety worries, a poll shows. The survey found that 73 percent of whites versus 56 percent of minorities said their children will trick-or-treat on Wednesday.

For your information, 56 percent is a pretty good number. Do you really expect 100% participation by racial minorities in a holiday that encourages people to dress in white sheets?

I don't mind having minority children at my house on Halloween, just as long as they don't break anything, don't make religious dietetic demands (note to self: no Cow Tails for little Pooja), and don't trick or treat for asylum. Besides, it's really churlish and stupid to point out how many minority people are trick or treating on a night where everyone pretends to be someone else.

Thomas Link, 50, and his family are new to their trailer park in Palatka, Fla. He said he considers it unsafe because he does not know many neighbors, but had not decided whether to let his three young children trick-or-treat.

"I'm very particular about who I let my kids deal with," he said.

That's why he moved them to a trailer park. Only the best for his 3 young kids. Still, he's undecided on the trick or treating. Hey, ask your friend the bottle over there what she thinks. You guys are a team.

I understand the hatred of whitey. People are jealous of a winner. But what makes news and religious organizations bend over backward and twist themselves into rhetorical knots trying to find fresh ways to disparage the fun-filled American holiday of Halloween? I don't see anything wrong with having a day that makes death seem fun. Death is inevitable, make it enjoyable. Don't be a killjoy.

Is it so bad that people take with them to the grave the faint hope that they could come back as a ghost or a zombie and see all their friends again? If I come back as a ghost, I'm going to be a very effective one, I promise you that.

Not like the ghosts of today who communicate wimpily through TV static and dorks like John Edwards and make faint noises downstairs when you're trying to sleep. I would spend every minute of the day making my presence known, dispensing justice and having sex with sleeping women, and if I could dispense justice BY having sex with sleeping women, even better. I'd really like to be in the karma field in the afterlife, because whatever is going around, I want to keep it coming around. All the way back around. When I'm done, Halloween will be just as important as Christmas and Harry Potter will be more beloved than Baby Jesus.

Now, let's reiterate the rules of Halloween at the House of Wachs. By trick or treating at the House of Wachs you agree to the terms of this license.

No parents, no candy.

Have ID ready.

Trick or treaters over the age of 15 will be rejected.

Please remove masks at the door for security cams.

Do not cross the door threshold. That is a private area.

Do not grab. Candy will be placed in your bag for you.

All candy transactions will be monitored and recorded.

No trick or treating for UNICEF will be tolerated.

More than one knock or doorbell ring may result in termination of candy.

Any child not saying thank you will have their treats confiscated.

Trick or treating ends at 9pm sharp. No exceptions.

No pets.

Thank you. Have fun.

PHONE DUMP

Due to the Halloween being on Wednesday this year, What's Your Story will not be taping this week so that the staff can spend time sorting and eating candy with their loved ones, and harvest the crops at night.

I'd like you to get to know the staff of What's Your Story. I'm not trying to fix you up or anything, just say hey to the people who help me look sexy on internet TV. Here were the only people I managed to sneak up on with my camera phone.

Here's Scott. Scott's job is to make sure that things are funny. He does not have any infections, and always manages to find time to share a warm cup of soup with a friend.

This is Bonnie. Her job is to make sure the production runs smoothly and on time. I still have no idea what she looks like. She won't step out from behind her arms. I don't know how she eats.

Here's Lauren. Her job is to put everyone at ease. See the "L" she's forming with her hand? That's her gang sign. The 17th Street Laurens. Hang out, sip some sizzurp, yo.

While we're at it, let's do a cameraphone dump. It's been awhile.

George Stein recently invited me to his Jewdo matches at Gwinnett Center.

It was very exciting and inspiring to watch, and I left there wanting to grab someone by their lapels and throw them on their back.

This guy was a winner and a loser. Looks like he's dead, but he's not. He won his match, but broke his collarbone. The agony of victory.

Then they lightened the mood with some comedy matchups. Here's a real short guy battling a real tall one. The tall guy won and he got to take home the little guy and eat him for dinner.

Speaking of dining, let me remind restaurants that it's not cool to have reminders of disease around when people are trying to enjoy a hot meal. I know it helps your ego that you are part of something big, but I don't care.

Hey, I'm eating! Restaurants should be limited to one disease only. My vote goes for ALS, which is more appetizing then breast cancer, so go with that for this month.

"Oh, you ought to try J. Christopher's. They really are trying to fight breast cancer." No one recommends restaurants that way. Take it out back. When was the last time a cancer clinic was making flapjacks and bacon in the waiting room?

This truck has an almost Heroes symbol on it. I took this picture because I liked Heroes at the time. This was before it got pointless and hard to follow. I've watched one episode this season and it just wears me out. No rhyme or reason to what's going on. The Cheerleader can heal any wound she suffers and is played by a popular star. No way she ever dies. It's as exciting as the BCS.

The Heroes can do anything, but wind up getting nothing done. It's so frustrating. Are they really aliens? What happens to the world? Who's behind the company? Who gives a shit? It's like a sitcom for paranoids. It would be better if they picked one person with one power and gave him a show. Sure worked for My Favorite Martian.

Would someone tell the good people of Korean descent that words mean things in America? A genre is a category, right? Nail Category? How about Nail Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc? Anything would be better. Nail Wisdom. Nail Schadenfreude. Nail Nail. Nail Her.

Nail Genre? In a town where the women are prone to calling it Nail Jen-ray, anyhow?

Let me shake the phone. That's it. All empty. I'll take some rest now, and have more to say when I awaken.

WHAT I DON'T WANT FOR HANUMAS

Being a VIP, I got an invitation in my email to purchase one of these from the Google Boutique at a special price.

The Google Earth Trackstick.

The Trackstick records its own location, time, date, speed, heading and altitude at preset intervals. With over 1Mb of memory, it can store months of travel information. The Trackstick is the perfect tool for individuals looking for a way to track anything that moves. Use it for recording the exact routes you take when hiking, biking or vacationing. Record the location of everywhere you went, import pictures and other information into Google Earth™ to offer an entirely new perspective of your journey.

Isn't anyone who buys this just begging to be kidnapped or caught in a sting operation? Thanks, Google. No.

WACHS BEACH DIARIES '07--CHAPTER 6

I get very little rest when I come to the beach, what with all the activities plus the putting together of the Wachs Beach Diaries, and for that reason alone, I look forward to driving back to Atlanta for 11 straight hours with my daughter's non-stop Mika tunes on CD, just to be able to sleep in my own bed for 8 straight without the aid of slumber enhancers and anti-inflammatories. We do that tomorrow. Actually later this morning.

I was all set for another restless night, when a knock came at the door. It was my mom's friend, Miriam, whom I'd promised to take to the new porn store across the street. I had forgotten. My mom would kill me for teasing her. And she was all ready to go with her cute little incognito outfit and strong odor of alcohol.

And although I'll remain a little sleepy for the folks along I-85 tomorrow, it was worth it. Here are some photos from our fun time together.

She bought my dad a gift. A thing that looked like a lighter, but when you pushed the button down a small penis popped out. Miriam thought it was a real lighter at first until the Romanian clerk explained to her.

"No, no. Ees no lightair. Ess jus a deeck. See?" And he flicked the joke penis in her face a couple of times. What a nice man.

So we bought it, and the penis broke after one use. Ten dollars. One laugh. My mom swore she would take the thing back and get a refund as soon as she found the broken penis. Try sleeping with that in mind.