According to Esquire magazine, 86% of people polled on whatsbetter.com said they'd prefer a toaster to Pauly Shore. Almost makes you feel sorry for the poor bastard.

And then you remember that he's made millions off dumbass films like Bio-Dome, Jury Duty and In the Army Now.

Murphy's Commandments for Parking in the Densely Populated Yet Under-Garage-Outfitted Area of Brentwood in Los Angeles, CA:

Thou shalt circle the eight square block area surrounding thy apartment for at least 25 minutes if not more in search of thy parking spot. Thou shalt find several wankers who cannot park properly and take up two spots, keeping others from finding their own Golden Parking Spot. As such, thou shalt eventually park five blocks away from thy apartment (especially taking into account alternate side parking as needed due to street sweeping) and hike back to thy home, only to find some loser pulling out of a spot right in front of thy building.

One month from today is my birthday. Oh hell yeah, I'm celebrating this year.

People all over the Southland were walking around outside in t-shirts and shorts today as temperatures reached into the 80s here in Los Angeles. Here now with more is our always-intrepid reporter, Trisha Takanawa. Trish?

Thank you, Steve. Indeed, the weather here in Los Angeles was wonderfully warm today, but, as always, there were side effects. It seems that many people new to L.A. -- transplants from the Midwest and Northeast, mostly -- were preparing for the end of the world today, as they kept saying, "This is November! It's too warm for November! The icecaps, think of the icecaps!"

Another big problem we had, Steve, was from a random group of Annoying People, who spent their entire day wandering around the greater metropolitan area asking Angelenos, "Is it hot enough for you?" and "How about this heat?" These people were later seen being beaten to bloody pulps by a group of Hare Krishnas. The final tally: 2 dead, 37 wounded. Steve?

Thank you, Trisha. As you probably know, this weather is also known here as "Earthquake Weather." So, after these commercials, Weatherman Hal will be here to tell us more, right, Hal?

That's right, Steve. We got a reprieve today, but my Spidey-sense -- and that clever Doppler 4000 machine -- is telling me that tomorrow, temperatures will once again reach into the 80s with just a few spotty clouds and a 30% chance of a 4.0 or higher.

We'll be back after these commercial messages to tell you about Jennifer Lopez's impending divorce -- which is miraculously occurring before she even gets married -- and also, what would Jesus drive? Stay tuned.

Okay, so what's the difference between The Bachelor and Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire? Will someone please explain this to me? The way I see it, only about 8 weeks. I still think the whole thing's a crock.

So, that dumbass joke "What would Jesus drive?" (In case you haven't been bombarded with it yet, the answer is "a Chrystler.") I saw a tease for it on three different L.A. TV news programs and on CNN. For the love of all that's good and tasteful, I implore the TV network executives to please stop propagating this dumbass joke. If you're really craving some news because it's a slow news day, make it up. It's allowed. It was written in my Journalist's Handbook.

What's this? A major motion picture that makes marching band look cool? Damn, if only that had come out a decade earlier while I was still in high school...

It's being one of those mornings when I question why I'm even putting in the effort to maintain the veneer of sanity.

- The bastard neighbors woke me up at 3AM last night. And 8AM this morning. If there weren't two of them (actually, three, including the loud whiny woman I also heard) and one of me, I'd completely go over there and kick their asses.
- I went to the kitchen to scare up some breakfast to find that I am out of milk. So I had to freebase my Cinnamon Life straight out of the box.
- My mom called this morning and, since my phone was turned off, left a voicemail message. Except she decided she wanted to use up the remaining three or four minutes on her prepaid calling card, so she just rambled on about nothing on my voicemail. We're not talking about Seinfeld nothing, either. And I don't know how to skip to the end of the message in my voicemail. It reminded me of that dumbass game we used to play at camp where you were given a topic and had to stand up in front of everyone for a minute and talk about it and if you stopped talking, you lost.
- Michael Jackson apologized for dangling his own son off a fourth-story balcony. Well, that's great, Michael, but are you going to apologize to your kid for being a total freak? Had anyone else but Michael pulled that stunt, Child & Family Services would've taken the kid into custody so fast it would've made his head spin.

A few more Things About Keith: 1. I have a middle name. Very, very few people know it. I hate it. It's biblical. So I usually tell people I don't have a middle name. No, I'm not going to tell you what it is, and good luck guessing. There's a lot of names in the Bible, and I won't tell you even if you're right. 2. I've eaten ostrich. It tastes just like cow. It's good. 3. If I'm feeling silly and dumb, I will occasionally yell, "Mooooooo!" if I see cows while I'm driving. 4. I like port. It's become one of my alcoholic beverages of choice. I feel mildly grown-up when I drink it, which is probably a good reason why I shouldn't have it. 5. I can raise my right eyebrow by itself. I can't raise my left eyebrow by itself. 6. I never get cold. If I get cold, I know something's wrong and I'm probably getting sick. 7. I can never let my hair grow too long. If it does, I don't really get shaggy. I get the Jewish 'Fro, and my hair just kind of starts growing outward. 8. Even though Ayn Rand is one of my favorite authors, I've never read Atlas Shrugged completely through. I've never been able to make it through that boring-ass 80 page long speech that John Galt makes near the end of the book. 9. I have a strange affinity for morbid post-apocalyptic films and books. I dig They Live, Escape From New York, a short-story collection called Armageddons (which has stories about many different ways the world could end) and Resurrection Day (which is a book that takes place 10 years after the Cuban Missile Crisis supposedly escalated into a full-scale nuclear conflict). 10. At times, I can be incredibly patient, and at others, incredibly impatient. 11. Right now, I'm very impatient. I'm waiting on several things that I want to happen now. I'm into instant gratification. I hate waiting. I hate anticipation. 12. The concept of time travel fascinates me to no end. I can spend hours debating the mechanics and physics and ramifications of it. 13. I hide my geekyness well. I'm rather a chameleon when it comes to fitting in with various social groups. 14. I like to cook, I just really really hate cleaning up afterwards. Since our dishwasher doesn't work that well, I hardly ever cook. 15. To this day, I still think my last girlfriend was cheating on me, but I never asked her if she was. Even if I had asked her, I don't think I would've gotten a straight answer out of her. 16. I love cotton jersey and flannel sheets. 17. I've walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. 18. I think Esquire has some of the best and most well-written articles of any magazine I've ever come across. 19. Given enough (and the proper kind of) dressing, I'll actually eat salad, even though I love meat and I'm not a fan of vegetables at all. 20. Because of one particular scene in The Replacements, a co-worker and I have a running inside joke regarding bundt cake, and we can't help but start laughing every day when we go to Starbucks and see it there. 21. Unless I'm going to the gym, I refuse to go out into public without showering and making myself look presentable. 22. I have a super-low tolerance for women who are sweet-to-the-point-of-saccharin. Any women I'm friends with or date have to be down to earth and need a little dirt. Cuteness is okay, but only to a point. 23. My friends think I do a really good imitation of Cartman, especially when I bust out with, "Beefcake, kick ass!" 24. I'm pretty good with imitating things I hear, either accents or vocal inflections (both spoken and sung) and things of that sort. 25. It usually takes me an hour after I wake up to be able to really think and process input and respond. Before then, I'm just running on autosystems.

I've got a great idea for a network TV show! Let's take some washed-up B-movie actor or actress and put them into a show where we'd see what would happen if they lived a normal life like the rest of us! Yeah, that's the ticket! People would watch that in droves, because we all know that people want to see shows that mirror their lives rather than use TV as an escapist method.

What? It's already been done? By every major network? Many times, you say? Well, I'll be damned.

The Corollaries of Coke: yes, Virginia, there are rules to soft drinks.

1. The vessel of delivery of the soda to you will affect its taste. It's like a plastic and metal game of rock-paper-scissors. The order (from worst to best) of delivery methods is:
- 12 oz. can
- 16 oz. bottle
- 2 liter bottle
- fountain

2. Mixing a base soda with a flavored liquor always tastes better than a flavored soda. For example, mixing Coke with Stoli Vanilla tastes better than Vanilla Coke; mixing Grey Goose Orange with 7-Up tastes better than Sunkist.

3. There are those of us who can tell Pepsi from Coke and diet from regular simply by taste. It takes practice. But don't try to fool us.

Given that technology's come a bit of a ways since the last war with Iraq, you'd think we'd update the punchline of that tired and heavily-recycled joke, "How do you clear out an Iraqi bingo hall?" The answer "Yell out B-52!" just doesn't cut it anymore. We're using B-2 bombers more than we're using B-52s against Iraq, and besides... B-2 just makes more sense bingo-wise. 52 isn't in the "B" column, but 2 is.

Ladies and gentlemen, your hard-earned tax dollars at work, your cellular phone minutes in use, and your busy signals on the emergency lines preventing you from getting through while your house is on fire:

From Sunday's Los Angeles Times:
As a veteran 911 operator with the California Highway Patrol, Deanna Mora has been trained to calm distraught murder witnesses, comfort suicidal callers and make peace during angry domestic disputes. But she was not prepared for the call she received not long ago from an upset woman who had just left a pet grooming salon in Orange County. The woman's emergency? Her dog had just received a bad haircut and she wanted the police to take some action.

Operator: 911. Do you have an emergency?
Caller: Yeah, I'm in a taxi, and the taxi driver is telling me he is not taking me where I'm supposed to go, and he is going to take me back where he picked me up from.
Operator: Unfortunately, sir, that is not a life-threatening emergency. Is he threatening you in any way?
Caller: Yeah. He is taking me back out of my way.

Operator: 911.
Caller: Can I ask you one question? There is nothing going on. I just want to ask you one question. I lost my wallet on the bus and I have the feeling that the bus driver took it because I'm sure it was in the bus. And I was asking the bus driver if he can possibly, like, let me see his bag just to make sure he didn't take it. I know it's rude but ... I was 90% sure that he can be the only person who took it.
Operator: What you have to do is call the bus company and talk to them.
Caller: But they can't do anything.
Operator: I beg your pardon.
Caller: They can't do anything.
Operator: Who can't do anything?
Caller: My question is....
Operator: I'm telling you to call the bus company and talk to them. You are tying up my 911 line.

Operator: 911 emergency. What are you reporting?
Caller: Yeah, can you have a patrol car come to the El Segundo (park) on Imperial Highway at the doggie park? They have the small dogs in with the big dogs, and there is a problem.

Operator: 911 emergency. What are you reporting?
Caller: Yes, I'm calling to report a missing street in L.A.
Operator: A missing street?
Caller: Yes, I couldn't find Evergreen Street in L.A. from the 1000 block to 700. It's missing. It's really missing. I looked on the map and drove around, and I couldn't find it.

As cool as Sarah B. is, it became painfully obvious this evening that we just aren't meant to be and could never be an item.

The top item on her "very short, un-punk rock list of things that never fail to make me sigh" is: light from a streetlamp. Unfortunately, I have this unerring capability to make whatever streetlamp I'm walking under go dark. I can't explain it. I have no idea why it happens, and it's not because I'm walking around at dawn while the lights are turning off -- because I'm not. It's just... whenever streetlamps go dark, I just happen to be underneath them. It's like my anti-superpower.

Sometimes, it makes me feel like Charlie Brown, and I feel like sighing as well -- though my sigh would be in resignation just like his. How unromantic.

There don't seem to be any rental car companies in Los Angeles who have stickshift cars to rent. This upsets me. I was really looking forward to having a manual transmission under my command for a few days when I go back out to Tucson.

Driving stick is just one of those things that's always good to know. It's also a lot of fun, unless you spend a lot of time stuck in traffic. Since my commute is on city streets and I don't hit the freeways that much, I wouldn't have that much of a problem driving stick all the time. Plus, L.A. is relatively flat (at least the part I live and work in), so it's not like I'd have tons of problems popping the clutch trying to start off from a red light while on a 40 degree incline. [cough cough San Francisco cough] I miss having that control over the car. Plus, I just think it's pretty damn cool.

Anyone out there who's got a stickshift -- want to loan me your car for a little while so I can get the craving out of my system?

For those of you who thought I was kidding when I was talking about how much debauchery was involved in last night's escapades, know that only two feet behind me from where I was standing when this picture was taken... is porn. Tons and tons of porn.

Finally, something that makes less sense than a David Lynch film but is at least entertaining:

The Greatest Commercial Ever. (link blatantly pilfered from the lovely tecgirl)