That Pesky Erin Andrews Video

Yeah. The shirt's in the way. I get it.

Hey, dude! Did you hear about that leaked video of Erin Andrews nude? No WAY!

Yes, I am joining the fray in mention Ms. Andrews in her birthday suit doing stuff that thin, well-spoken blondes do in their hotel room. No, I don't have the video or the pics. And apparently, if you track a copy down, its embedded with malware. So all that effort to jerk off to grainy video of a peeping tom camera shot of a woman...and I do mean...A woman will be all for naught when the virus is on your computer.

Anyways, the whole fracas over the video has ESPN and Erin angry and they want answers immediately. Thank God for TMZ, though. They think they have this one answered, including who it might be rolling the camera -- someone she knows?? (For the record, 'twas not me. I was stalking my redheaded neighbor that time.)

TMZ has reviewed six videos shot by the peeping Tom who secretly videotaped Erin Andrews in her hotel room as the ESPN reporter walked around naked, not having a clue she was being watched ... and there are signs the person who taped it may be connected with the coverage of athletic events.

Four of the clips were shot in the same hotel. The remaining two were shot in a different hotel. In the first hotel, the peephole is round. In the second hotel, the peephole is jagged. The furniture in the two hotel rooms is completely different. In the first set of videos, Erin is naked, curling her hair while looking into a mirror. It appears all four clips are from the same video. In the second set of clips, Erin is also naked, ironing a pair of pants.

The videos raise the suspicion that the person who shot them may have been familiar with her work schedule and may have been traveling with her. Erin's people are on the hunt for the culprit.

So to sum it up, Erin got naked in the privacy of her own room with the understanding and presumability that she could, even to the point of ironing her own pants (hot!). But then again, it just seems too contrived of a story for real life. Didn't we see this with Quaqmire on some God-forsaken episode of Family Guy. Anyways, talk of naked ladies has got me all hot. I think, I'll go to Hollywood and find me a hooker that looks exactly like Erin Andrews. Peeping tom? PEEP THIS, HOOKER WHO LOOKS LIKE ERIN ANDREWS.

Presenting the 'Jam' of Summer '09

Spencer's the ape man. Heidi's the cheap blonde floozy. Both have recorded songs. I weep for mankind.
This is the post where the first traces of my hypocrisy surfaces, as if clues weren't left in my Facebook, MySpace, or BlogSpot accounts (ZOMG!).

But, my God, if today wasn't a good day to smile and cry on the inside at the same time.

America's foremost media manwhore, Spencer Pratt, dropped his first rap single, yo! And it's totally phat, G! Like low ridin' in your Porshe 2010 drop top, homey! Like word to yo mutha', home skillet!

The Spence addressed the hatahs hatin' on his thirst to be exposed to the media limelight. He also countered the naysayers by saying he makes "mad cheddar" and that people hate him because the "media loves me." Thus, my hypocrisy. I would never in my right mind want to bring more attention to this undeserving douchebag and his utterly aborted attempts at a world outside fake reality acting. But, the man's gotta feed himself and his plastic wife. See, he's just like me except if he's gotta eat it's like smoked dodo bird with a side of bald eagle and for me it's $1 McDoubles.

Hustlah's gotta stick togethah, yo!

Cooter Scooter: The All-TV Reviews Revue

My God can so kick your god's ass anyday.

Oh, to be young and single and drunk and slightly bored and slightly neurotic and slightly insulting and slightly insane and much more insane and much more idiotic and slightly horny. Slightly horny? Well, if we're telling the truth... I say all these things because that's how the Sunday night became for me and my running mates of rogues about the crazy wind factory of a valley bowl...bowel...correct, bowl.

Sunday night was Family Guy night and it was fitting to have the silent Desert air broken with this sound made by me and my rapscallions. Just click on it. No other words.

Anyways, after review of my DVR of Sunday night's ep Not All Dogs Go to Heaven, I learned that Family Guy still continues to bat below .500 in my book. It was refreshing to see the Star Trek: TNG (that's The Next Generation for those not in the know. God!) cast including Wil WHeaton. (Cool WHip. WHite Stripes. WHoopi Goldberg. A WHile. Stress the 'H.' See how big a douchebag you become.) AnywHays, the ep had Meg with the mumps, Brian officially going atheist, God on a scooter hover craft or some shit, and Rob Lowe and Adam West being "big movie stars." Who knew the whole universe came from their night lamp. Hm.

No, this is not NPH's alleged interracial gay porn, although you wouldn't know that with this shot. Get him big black man!

I caught How I Met Your Mother on its regular time Monday night. I'm glad it ends up number one every Monday night with the 18-34 crowd, because, believe me, advertisers are so dumb to think that's the segment of America that controls spending. Soon, everyone will know that it's actually 8-15 year old kids with Benjamin Button disease controlling the spending. The hell with you. It's Monday, I can write crappy if I want to.

Anyways, the ep called Murtaugh covers Ted's list of things he and Barney are too old for. The list was named after the fabulous Sgt. Roger Murtaugh character played by Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon movies (still a classic no matter what you think of the Jew-hating Australian in the movie). He would always say "I'm getting too old for this [stuff]." (Stupid TV-14 television show said "stuff." "Shit" never hurt anybody.) Thus, you have the Murtaugh list.

We get Barney trying to challenge Ted on competing lists -- Barney completes the Murtaugh list and Ted completes the anti(?)-Murtaugh list, which is basically everything he's too young to do. For some reason, and I'm being serious here, I believe in the Murtaugh list. Despite my age and despite my calling in life at this moment, which is wanking behind a laptop/computer desk for 8-12 hours a day, I have become more unable to do some of the things I could have done back in the day, mostly involving food. So leave space on my Murtaugh list for eating two whole pizzas and drinking two 2-liters of Coke in one sitting. Also leave some space for "sharting," although who's not too old for shitting in their pants? I think I'm the only one. Shut up, it's Monday, I can write crappy if I want to.

Thus, I mercifully end this blog entry. You may begin losing faith in me.

My God can still kick your god's ass though. Rasberries, bitch!