Danica 500

I am going to make this quick, because I hate car racing.  I most loathe when people try (unsuccessfully) to convince me it is a sport.


So...


When will the day come when a woman causing a crash during a car race is no longer news?


I thought we all just assumed this.


It should be news when a female driver finishes a race.


I fully expect the female drivers to bump into someone accidentally. The wreck Danica Patrick caused at the Daytona 500 this past weekend was nothing compared to the carnage she and every other woman cause on a daily basis while running errands in their respective communities.


Somehow, women make mundane drives to the grocery store look like an audition for The Bourne Identity 4.




#WomenCan'tDrive


Let's get that trending.


You're welcome,



_Todd

Celebrity Sighting 2/17/12

Friday, after lunching in Beverly Hills I had to head back across the hill for a 4:00 meeting in Studio City.

[That sentence makes my life sound a lot more important than it really is.]

About 6 minutes into my drive up Coldwater Canyon, I realized that traffic was going to turn my 25-minute trip into 2 hours, so I headed East on Sunset toward Laurel Canyon Boulevard.  Predictably, Sunset was packed like a mother, but eventually I made my way onto LCB. 

Since I was stuck in my car for a classic Friday 4:00 West Hollywood traffic extravaganza, I had my iPod working hard.  And, because I feel like I am always listening to the same playlists over and over, this time I scrolled to "Songs," spun down to "S" and let the bitch ride.  About 5-6 songs into the Ss, I had advanced nearly 400 feet to the intersection of LCB and Hollywood Blvd.  At that time, "Seasons of Wither" by Aerosmith came on my iPod.  Full disclosure, I only keep 2 Aerosmith songs on my device.  But, since I really enjoy "Season of Wither," I decided to let it run.  45 seconds into the song, Steven Tyler blew past me (going the opposite direction) in a black Porsche Carrera GT convertible. 

Full-on irony.

I laughed for a second and then said aloud, "Fuckin' L.A."

It was wild to see him right when 1 of 2 Aerosmith possibilities was playing in my car.

And it was so clearly him.  Because he was speeding downhill in a convertible, his tinted hair extensions were blowing everywhere.  His scarf was blowing everywhere.  The blonde woman in the passenger seat's hair was blowing everywhere (in a complete stunner, she was wearing a scarf too).  There was literally shit flying every which way. 

Does anyone out there think this is as amazing and funny and ironic as I do?  Exactly zero of the friends I have told this story to so far have even bothered to look up from their phones.

At any rate, I have recently decided to write an e-book about my celebrity encounters and this story might just bat lead off.  I'll let you all know when the book drops, and I am expecting you all to buy it for you Kindles and iPads.


You're welcome,


_Todd

Banana Split.

I stayed up late tonight. 

Again.

During that time, I found some old pictures and videos on my computer.  I happened upon one I felt like sharing.

Another classic AM juggle.

This was taken at "Banana Split Sundays" at Club LAX a few weeks before he passed.  Easily the most fun I have ever had in a club.


[Yes kids, I was that close.]

You're welcome,

-The Todd

Blocking Out.

On Sunday nights, I play basketball in a Rec League out in Calabasas, CA.

A couple of weeks ago, my team began imposing its will on the opponent in the second half.  On one play, I ran out after a steal, caught a beautiful outlet pass, and was all alone on the offensive end of the court for what could have been an easy layup in front of my on looking girlfriend.  But, as I peaked behind me, I noticed my team’s Center (and the largest human on the team in terms of overall mass…by about 100 lbs.) running hard to trail the play.  So, rather than chalk up two more uncontested points for myself, I dropped a dime on the big man and let him rack two more on the score sheet under his own name.  

[Hey, it’s an unspoken rule in Basketball – you reward big men for running the floor.]

Two possessions later, the same big man that I had just rewarded with an easy layup was holding the ball at the top of the key.  I saw an opening under the basket, so I cut to the box.  When I arrived under the rim I noticed I was all alone.  No one saw me standing by myself in the paint…except my teammate.  So, obviously, our Center looked at me, paused, decided against passing it to me to reciprocate my previous assist, and launched a 30-foot bomb.

Wet.

It didn’t even hit the rim.  It was all net-just like when the nerd in every movie hits a jumper at the end.

Fans in the stands clapped.  

I was enraged.  

How could he NOT have returned the favor there?  And to compound it, how could he not return the favor to instead take a terrible shot (in terms of percentages and also in terms of his skill limitations)?

After the game, this set off an exchange between my Center and me about how I plan to exact revenge before the end of the season by blocking his next wide open layup attempt.

Yes, I am planning to block my own teammate’s shot.  I might even foul his ass.  Hard.

The idea of this happening really got us all thinking about what in the world the referees would do if I purposely fouled my own teammate. 

Would I actually be charged with a foul?

Would there also be a Technical foul involved?

Would he shoot free throws?

Would my teammate have the option to decline the penalty, like in Football?

We are all excited to see what happens when I put the refs on the spot.  I personally feel like this might tear a hole in the universe.

We’ll see.

(Trust me, we’ll see.)

Stay close…

You’re welcome,

-The Todd

Hank.

Thank Christ that Hank Williams, his beard and his hat have finally pissed off ESPN to a point that they have pulled his dreadful song from the opening credits of Monday Night Football. 

Hopefully, it will never return. 

I am also hopeful that my dream comes true and all memory of the song and the phrase itself disappear from the public’s memory.  Maybe then ESPN will stop using it as a caption at the top of every SportsCenter graphic during the preseason.  And also, maybe you idiots will stop making it your Facebook and Twitter status every week, anticipating some of us might find it cute. 

You're welcome,

-The  Todd 

Halloween Horror Nights 2011.

A few days back, I was driving to work and heard one of those cheesy “Halloween Horror Nights” radio commercials for a haunted house at Universal Studios here in LA.  Apparently, it appears the masses (much like myself) are no longer “horrified” by the “horror” conveyed with the customary “howling wolf,” “screeching bats,” “thunder,” “owl,” and “psycho laughing guy” sound effects (all complete with ridiculously splashy 80’s reverb).  So, for 2011 Universal stepped it up.  They paid Alice Cooper to be the spokesperson for this year’s house (because, you know, he makes things really scary).  Thus, in this year’s radio spot, Alice is talking over all of the cliché background sounds about how this year is scarier than ever. 

All of this got me thinking:

1 – “Who agreed that howling wolfs are scary?”

2 - “Who agreed that screeching bats are scary?”

3 - “Who agreed that reverb is scary?”

4 – So forth and so on.

[SIDEBAR:  This is not radio-related, but why does every Halloween party flyer have a spider web in the top-right corner?  Are those scary?]

As an Audio Producer, I am often asked to produce things for all sorts of radio and television commercials.  Naturally, I began to think about what I am frightened by, just in case I am asked to create a “Halloween” radio spot for someone this month.

Even though I have been doing this stuff for years, I have no idea how to produce a radio spot that accurately illustrates:

1 - All drivers on the LA roads being women. 

2 - All women having small boobs.

3 - Sarah Palin as President.

You’re welcome,

-The Todd

HD vs SD

I hate working for the man, so I am always looking for a way to get rich quick.  My friends and I toss out ideas on the regular in hopes that we can get something lucrative rolling.  I am happy to report I think I have it all figured out.

I have been collecting this data for a while subconsciously, but only recently realized that no woman in history has been able to tell the difference between Standard Definition and High-Definition television.

Don’t even try to correct me because we all know I am right.  

All men, at one point in time or another, have played the game where we flip back and forth between the SD and HD versions of the same channel and ask the nearest woman if she can tell the difference, to which she inevitably answers, “They look the same.”  Or, my other favorite: when your girlfriend moves to a new apartment and asks DirecTV to set her up with a SD DVR box for her 1080i flat-screen.  Or, my other favorite:  when you come home to watch something you had your girl DVR for you…and she DVR-ed it in SD.

Given this, I have made the decision to put the wheels in motion to form a technology company (specifically geared toward women) which produces small, flat-screen televisions that display images in Standard Definition only.  They will look, weigh, feel, and cost the same as actually HDTVs, but will cost far less to produce due to their shitty screens and lack of HDMI hardware-which will lead to larger financial margins for my company.

Women won’t be able to resist an expensive television that displays a terrible picture if it has interchangeable pink, red, and white faceplates.

Ladies, I don’t mean to pick on you, it’s just hard not to sometimes because you are all stupid.

You’re welcome,

-The Todd