Nature is NOT a gum flavor

Now just because I'm a celebrity (and I use that term in the absolute loosest of terms) doesn't mean I don't do ordinary things. I hold the door open for people, I help little old ladies across the street (even if they don't want to) and most importantly, I buy gum. Chewing gum would remind me of the happy times as a kid with my mom. Back then (back then...what am I 80?) you'd get the occasional weird flavor...I mean what kid didn't look in astonishment when blue raspberry flavor came out? It's been a while since I've chewed some gum, so I thought I'd do it for nostalgia and to piss off my dentist.

Boy was I in for a shock.

Overwhelmingly outnumbering the more traditional gums were flavors such as Glacier Freeze, Rain, Flare, and Lush. What the hell? Overlooking the fact that these are terrible names to give gum...well let's take "Lush" for instance. It's not a flavor it's a freaking adjective. How does an adjective taste? Beats me, cause I didn't buy the shit.

Does Flare taste like eating road flares? Rain really doesn't have a taste, so how does a gum executive play God and decide a flavor for it? These questions deserve answers dammit.

Also mixed in were abominations where two perfectly fine on their own flavors are mixed together to make the worst combinations of gum ever created. Mint and watermelon? Vanilla and spearmint? Apple and Turpentine? I mean is there no end to this?

Gum executives, please read this....Grape is a flavor...winter mist is not.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to chew some strawberry banana hubba bubba.

A Latte Trouble for Travis

Routine is something that we all strive for in some way or another. From mapping out when you take a crap, to coming home and expecting your wife/husband/domesticated animal to be there. As crazy as I'm told I am, I'm not above having a routine myself.

There's a little place I like to go to to have a cup of coffee, a snack, or just to sit and watch people. It's not very busy, darkly lit, and have great atmosphere.

And it has Travis.

Travis is the poor soul who works there, and is the subject of my routine. The routine? Making his day interesting. Once I spoke to him the entire time in carny talk. Another time I had " I heart Travis" shirts made and handed them out to all the customers. From having him taste all my food, to making him sing out the menu to me, I've been sure to come in at least once a week.

Now I know what you're thinking..."that is sort of mean, Gene", and to some I'm sure it is, but I view it as making his day interesting. I never do anything harmful to him, or anything to make him lose his job...he's just my way of releasing pent up anger in a safe and hopefully amusing way.

Maybe I'm just an asshole.

I think Doc Hill hates me

Not being amused at my recent posts, I was told to reveal more about myself on here. Not like the National Headline doesn't have enough bullshit material on me. But if I must...and apparently I must...

Yes, I was in a sitcom in the 80's called "All Write Now"...they should have called it "Generic Single Parent Family Sitcom #236". I played the young boy "David Write"...get it? Of course you do. You'd have to have an IQ slightly below tree bark not to. Although the show was popular enough, we were only on for two seasons.

Why? Because of me.

I hated doing it. Since my dad is 80's redneck action star Bruce Ashmore (star of such "classics" as "18 Wheels of Death" and "Jukebox Jones"), I guess the idea was to capitalize on his name. But the producer's mistake for only signing me for two years, and when it was time for a new contract...well I had enough of Los Angeles to last me for several lifetimes (no offense to the people still trapped...I mean living there).

Everyone was pissed at me, but I didn't care. I had some money and a mom who took care of me, and that's all I needed.

Well I hope that's enough info about me...if you want to learn more, go to your local library or catch the rerun of E! True Hollywood Story: People who don't give a shit.

There is creepy...

And then there is uber creepy. And I know uber creepy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wdmSL2-Ock

I think he guest starred on "All Write Now" with me once...or maybe that was a reoccurring nightmare I have.

Small things can make a day

In a random act of kindness, a young girl gave me a flower for no reason. Things like that give me hope sometimes.

Ways Drive-Bys could be used for good

We all know that drive-bys are both wrong and a not very nice way to get one's attention. But what if the same principles could be used to do good?

Confused? I'm good at that.

Take this scenario...Someones jogging, working up a good sweat. You're driving by and you see how hard they're trying to lose weight. you slow down, roll down the window and yell "That's it! you're doing great!" and drive away.

Or you see a pastor, you haven't been to church lately and you want him/her to know that you're still reading your bible/religious book of choice. Slow down, roll down the window, and yell out Ezekiel 1:4 and drive away. That pastor then knows that you're all caught up on your religion.

This could be used for many thing...relatives driving by to remind you to walk the dog...people driving by to compliment on your shoes...the possibilities are endless.

You can take anything bad and turn it towards the side of good. Once I figure out how to turn armed robbery into something good, I'll let you know.

Velveeta gets a bad (W)rap

I've always been curious as to why Velveeta gets such a bad reputation. I mean, it sure tastes better than that fancy schmancy goat cheese that all the SoHo kids are on and on about. And don't get me started on the false advertisement that is called bleu cheese.

The main argument against the rectangular block of beauty is that it's not "real cheese" and go so far as to call it plastic.

The nerve! As if trying something new is a bad thing. I mean, I vividly remember eating play-doh as a child/adult and I feel fine. It's a Velveeta vendetta and I won't stand for it...mainly because my legs would get tired. I'd go the John Lennon route and do a lay-in, but Sara says she wouldn't know the difference from what I do now. I think that was an insult....hmm.

Gotta go, it's dinner time and Sara just broke out the spaghetti factory.

So this is where I start eh?

When Dr. Hill first asked me to keep a diary, I thought he meant one where I would write down the boys I had crushes on, and when I got my first period. So I bought the prettiest diary and wrote in it for days.

Dr. Hill was not amused, although my Hello Kitty stickers added a wonderful touch to it.

So here I am on the computer and I'm suppose to be "Serious", but how can someone be serious when life presents all this comedy to be observed and shared?

Take yesterday,please. See, a joke right there. The classics never get funny. I'm walking down the street when out of nowhere this man turns the corner...and it's Frankie Avalon circa 1963. Hawaiian shirt? Check. The most perfectly gorgous hair helmet known to man? Check.

Sadly, 1963 Annette wasn't around the corner, despite multiple looks in that direction.

If 1963 Frankie had started singing Venus, I would have fallen for the Big Kahuna's charms. No mortal being could withstand it.