Hitting a 7-10 Douche

Sorry for not writing lately, but I had a bit of a relapse in the depression area and was wrapped up in a cover for almost a week. Yesterday, Sara forced me out of the cover and took myself, Alan, and Seymour to the bowling alley.

We get our shoes (which I tried to steal, to no avail) and get to bowling. As I'm not much of a sports enthusiast, my bowling skills are lacking to say the least. Alan kept telling me about the many 300 games he bowled while he hits a constant stream of gutters. Poor Seymour at least hit the pins...and the people next to us, the snack bar, and I think one ball landed in the men's room.

But I have to admit, I was having a good time until I sent Seymour to get Alan and I a couple of beers (and ice cream for him). He comes back covered in a concoction of Miller Lite and vanilla ice cream...not a lovely smell...and in tears. I ask him what happened and he tells me that some dickhead did it to him because he accidentally bumped into him.

I go to get a towel when this douchebag comes up to me and asks if I'm Miles Gordon. Part of my therapy is to control my anger, so despite wanting to choke him out with my smelly shoelaces, I state that I am. He doesn't seem to grasp that Seymour is with me, so he starts talking about how his girlfriend is a huge fan of "All Write Now" (poor girl) and wanted to meet me. I was about to decline when he asks if I would act like he was an old friend of mine.

That's when I went for revenge.

We go back to this guy's lane and his girlfriend is all excited. I sign an autograph and when she asks if I know Bobby (this winner's name), I respond as such:

"Why sure I do. Bobby and I used to hit the clubs together, isn't that right?"

"Uh..yeah"

"In fact. I remember that one time you had me distract that girl....couldn't have been more than 17, so you could slip a roofie in her drink and take her home. You were getting laid that night one way or another, am I right or am I right?"

At this point, she has a horrified look on her face. His isn't much better. So I decided to leave, but not before giving Bobby a bit of advice.

"Have to go man, but it was nice seeing you again man. Keep in touch about that rape case though man. Just remember....her word against yours and you'll get off scot free."

I walked away, handed Seymour a towel and a new ice cream cone, and enjoyed the chaos.

Don't fuck with my friends.

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.