Megashark vs. Giant Octopus

What would one think when, after years of semi-serious acting (okay, maybe not), an agent contacted you to advise he's enlisted your talents to the Scy-fi (or however they spell it now) channel for the epic: "Megashark vs. Giant Octopus." Two heavyweights jumped at the opportunity. Lorenzo Lamas, pony-tailed b-movie king from the series "Renegade." How gay was that show? And, of course, Tiffany. You know, the red haired highschool girl every dirty old man wanted to bang back in the eighties when she sang, "I think we're alone now." You know, Tiffany, you guys on the set of this new endeavor were alone. Cause I'm pretty sure I was the only one in America who was watching. But not for plot, special effects, dialogue, or anything that one might watch a movie for. I watched because it was awful. Like watching a train wreck. Anticipating each scene and wondering, "Can it get any worse?" It did.

Next time why don't you guys just air two hours of a fat guy on a toilet.

"Knowing"

I don't know how I got persuaded to watch this movie, which could be the biggest piece of shit ever filmed. Nicholas Cage, a Theoretical Astrophysicist? C'mon. No joke needed! Somehow his son is selected by aliens to be the human seed for a new planet? And all of this is prophesized by some kindergarten school girl who uses numerology to predict the future and then buries the predictions in a time capsule. And some other chick and her daughter somehow get thrust into the story because they remind Cage of his long lost wife. Crap! You will lose brain cells watching this movie.

Sobriety Tests

I stopped a guy on Tuesday and gave him sobriety tests. One of these tests is the one-legged-stand. This is what it looks like.

Unfortunately for him, hours of watching Ralph Maccio in the Karate Kid made his one-legged-stand look more like this:

Tag

N.C. License Plate:

I DO IP

(I do internet porn?)

Tags like this are why I never seem to get anything done.

Gay Drunken Idiot

How do you explain this to your wife? Let's say you get extremely drunk. No problem, we all do from time to time. But you decide to drive downtown for a little fun. Well, maybe not the fun you're accustomed to. You pick up a gay prostitute and agree to a twenty five dollar blow-job. The prostitute starts working your junk while you drive down Hargett Street, which makes you smash into two parked cars, careen off the road and head-on a telephone pole. All of this is observed by a police officer who casually pulls up and arrests you. At the jail you blow a .26 (over 3 times the legal limit) on the Intoxylizer and are charged with DWI and soliciting crimes against nature. Of course you call your wife to bail you out of jail????

I would kill to have heard his excuse on the way home. It had to be a gem.

Craigslist

I'm addicted to reading the Craigslist ads, especially the personals. Some of the sickest people in the world advertise their insanity on this forum. My buddy Kevin sent this one to me.

"I thought we really had something together and I'm sorry I pooped in your shower. I had no idea it would be so difficult to wash down the drain. You should get a better showerhead. I admit I wasn't really thinking of the potential sanitation consequences at the time. I don't know what I was thinking exactly - maybe love muddled my mind. Sometimes when a relationship is going well and I think it's time to take it to the next level I panic and subconsciously find a way to sabotage it. But I'm really not a bad guy. And again, I'm sorry for pooping in your shower and I promise it won't happen again if you just give me another chance. I love you.
P.S. Did you try the bleach?"

What a classic..... You read Shakespeare... I read absurdity.

Speed Trap

I was running radar on Plaza Drive in response to numerous citizen complaints. I catch this car doing 41mph and pull him over. He says, "Hey, I'm the guy that complained about the speeders. When I go running, people zoom past me all the time. " I write him a ticket and take it to him. He has a four-year-old boy in the back seat that continuously waives at me. "Looks like I set a speed trap for myself," he says. Then he asks if his son can look at my police car. The boy surveys my patrol car for five minutes, oohing and aahhing the whole time. "I guess this is the most expensive police tour I've ever had," he says, smiling. At least the guy has a sense of humor.