And Ken Dodd's dad's dog's dead.
"I really hope things are going to go my way", Kravitz quipped. "Erm...a kiss from a rose", Seal responded.
Saturday May 30th, 6.30pm
I'm finally back on the net after my asshole dad grounded me for two weeks and confiscated my computer and cellphone. It was supposed to be four, but things change. He's still pretty pissed at me, but I grounded him down after a lot of whining and moping. But really what I think did it was HIS insistence that as I couldn't have any internet access, I'd actually have to hang out with him all evening and talk and play games and shit. He said we were going to "reconnect" (gay). Well, pretty soon we both wanted to connect our fists with the other's face, and when I suggested we play scrabble last night, dad said that enough was enough and I could have my computer back today. I knew I'd defeat that ass.
Now, you may be thinking "Eric, why did he take it away in the first place?" Well, be patient, you ass, as I'm coming to that shit right now. Remember how I was in Vegas with my parents and my stupid sister? Things started off OK, we went to see a magic show and did some shopping and saw all the sites and shit, but I could tell that really mom and dad were both itching to dump us at some gay activities shit in the hotel and go off and start gambling hard. I wanted them to go, but there was no way it was because I wanted to be left with some group of fat retards, being supposedly amused by some comedy skits and "close up magic" by some sweaty paedophile who's busy checking out my ass and my sister's lack of tits in the Hard Rock kids room. I'm 16 for shit's sake, not 6! Fair enough for Tina, she's eleven years old and kind of an ass, but I'm a young gun in the big city, I can do what I want. I told this to mom and dad a thousand times, but they wouldn't budge, even when I said I wanted to go and see some museums and shit (maybe the erotic museum, if you know what I'm saying).
So Saturday night they left us at the Hard Rock's "Teenzone" (that sounds like a XXX website) and went off to waste away their (my) money playing blackjack and shit. At first I thought it might not be so bad as there was a kind of hot girl there, but she turned out to be retarded (I'm not being mean, for once, I mean she was ACTUALLY retarded). And the guys running the "entertainment" were much worse than any sweaty paedophile; they were "extreme athlete punks" who basically did a really lame fire eating act and some sub-Jackass shit that made me wanna puke. I ditched as soon as I could, saying I had to go to the bathroom, and went out into the night to- well, I don't really know what I went out to do, but I hoped it might involve boning.
Well, after going to McDonalds and wondering around like an ass for a while, I met some creepy old dude with no top on who wanted to share a joint down an alley. I think he wanted to bone me, and I was not cool with that, but man, I wanted to get high so i went down there anyways and as soon as I had some of the joint I literally ran anyway, leaving him screaming abuse at me. Afterwards I kept thinking about how I wished I'd exited the alley with a great one-liner, some proper Shwarzenegger shit, instead of just running off and maybe making a slightly gay "ooh!" sound (OK, I admit it). I was thinking about how it would have been cool if I was drinking a Starbucks and as I turn to run, I casually shout "hey, have a cup of coffee!" and fling it right in this pederast's face. Or maybe he's asking what time it is, and I look at my watch and shout "half past ass!" as I hightail it off (NOBODY ever uses the word hightail, except Sheriff John Bunnell. Well, me and Bunnell).
So anyways, I kind of had got off the main strip, and was in what you might call a more seedy part of town. It totally rocked, there were hot chicks everywhere in some very revealing outfits, if you know what I'm saying, and the smell of boning was in the air. I got approached by a few Spanish chicks who asked me if I wanted any action, and being a wiseass, I said yeah, I wanted some Die Hard With a Vengeance. They called me some Spanish shit and went off, but as I walked along, chicks kept asking me what was up, like I was some philosopher or something. Most of them were ugly, but there was a hot blonde who looked a little like a hotter Kate Hudson. I guess deep down I knew this girl was a prostitute and all, because I've seen enough gangster movies, but part of me just wanted to believe that this smoking hot chick just wanted to chat to me and bone in the car park of a Subway.
She asked me what my name was, but I didn't want to tell her, so made up an alias, an aliass, you might say - Pat Malone. I think it makes me sound like a badass Irish gangster from Boston or something, maybe played by Matt Dillon in a movie on HBO. I was even trying to subtly slip in a little Irish accent to my voice, but it was an epic fail so I gave it up. Anyways, I digress. She asked me if I wanted to go somewhere and "talk", and if I had a credit card or money. She was a real romantic, man. I was just thinking "epic fail" when I remembered that my dad had given me his credit card to give to mom last night, but I still had it in my pocket.
So I said yeah, and I showed her the card and she asked how come it said Jeff Menerhauer, and I said that it was my codename as some dudes wanted to get me. I said why do I need a card anyways, I thought talk was cheap (great line) and she says yeah, but we need money for a room, and I'm starting to have a bad feeling about everything, particularly when this other dude shows up and starts saying we've got to take this shit off the streets, and being all threatening and shit, like really giving me the evil eye. He was a huge black guy, and all this talk of the streets plus the fact I was with a half naked hottie briefly made me feel like I was in my own rap video, which was not as cool as I'd hoped.
I really don't want to be there anymore, and I'm starting to worry that in another 12 - 15 hours mom and dad might stop gambling and realise I'm not at the hotel. But there's not a lot I can do, so reluctantly I say yeah, OK, and next thing I know I'm surrounded by cops and I'm being arrested. The hot Kate Hudson was an undercover cop! I can't believe it. She would have looked a lot better in the uniform, but that's another story. And the angry black guy was a cop too, I should have seen that shit coming. Whenever you watch an 80s movie, the big cop boss is ALWAYS an angry black guy.
Anyways, to cut a long story short, I got in a shit load of problems for apparently soliciting for sex on the street, which is a bunch of crap as SHE approached me, and Suge Knight there was telling me I had to take it off the streets. It was total entrapment, and I'm not talking about some lame movie about an art thief starring that bald fag from Scotland. Luckily my uncle Joel is some hotshot lawyer or something, and when he got on the LVPD's ass, they agreed to drop the case as I'm still a minor. But that don't mean I'm not in a bunch of shit with my mom and dad, who were outraged that I had ditched the teenzone club, and the only lucky thing for me is that they were so ashamed about what people might think, they didn't even tell Tina about what happened.
I'm kind of torn on that part, really. On the one hand I don't want everyone at school talking about it, and you just know that that ass Randy would make my life hell if he found out. On the other hand, I got arrested by the police, got to talk for 15 minutes to a hot slutty chick who turned out to be a cop, and I even had my fingerprints taken. That shit could definitely get me a boning from Lisa Hames.
"Not with thyroid cancer, that's leukemia"
After tackling the thorny issue of disability in modelling by making an exact clone of America's Next Top Model, but featuring disabled models, bold digital innovator BBC Three have announced a new project that will again provoke fierce debate and make people face difficult issues head on, in Dancing on Wheels.
In a move that takes everything safe old BBC1 have been doing with the enormously popular Strictly Come Dancing and turns it on its head, they will be teaming up dancing celebrities with wheelchair-bound dance amateurs, and basically seeing what will happen. "Disability bad, dance good", BBC Three controller Danny Cohen said.
Now the channel are planning many more provocative disability-themed reworkings of pop culture hits:
Three Men and a Paraplegic
Peter Mitchell, Michael Kellam and Jack Holden are happy living their lives as bachelors in their lofty New York apartment. They all have girlfriends, jobs and a carefree lifestyle. This is disrupted when a paraplegic arrives on their doorstep one day. A note with the paraplegic, Mary, indicates that it is Holden's, the result of an affair with a co-star actress. The baby arrives in Holden's absence—he is abroad shooting a movie, leaving Peter and Michael to fend for themselves in taking care of the paraplegic, something in which their lack of experience befuddles them.
Disabled She Wrote
Jessica Fletcher is a retired English teacher who, after being widowed in her early fifties, becomes a very successful mystery writer. Despite fame and fortune, Jessica remains a resident of Cabot Cove in Maine, and maintains her links with all of her old friends, never letting her success go to her head. Her one eccentricity is an insatiable curiosity, especially whenever disability rears its ugly head.
Can't Cook, Am Disabled
Two chefs (one of whom is disabled and one of whom would not be disabled) were nominated by a friend or relative to cook a meal under the instruction of a world class chef. When the dish was cooked, the nominator would be blindfolded and asked to taste the food. Following this, they would decide whose dish was best. Then once the winner has been decided the walls of the studio open up to reveal a prize (usually a food blender, set of saucepans or wheelchair).
"Shibadoobeedoobee, Friday night...you know you love the funk, girl"
Friday 15th May, 7. 25pm
Writing this on my phone while waiting at Dayton airport for our flight to Vegas. I don't know why I'm so excited, when I know I'm still five years too young to gamble in any casino, as Jake keeps reminding me. Randy, on the other hand, is trying to player hate on the whole weekend by calling where we're staying the Hard Cock Hotel. What a childish asshole. I would never think of something so stupid.
Dayton airport is a crummy shit heap of an airport. They've got all these pointless pieces of historical aviation hanging from the ceilings to make it feel all serious and important, but it's a total joke. Did Wilbur Wright ever take off from here? I don't think so (I don't actually know, but I bet not).
And their slogan is like the gayest thing I ever saw: "Easy to and through". That's like an apology of a slogan. It's basically saying "yes, this airport sucks ass", which would actually be a cool slogan.
As for what I'm going to do in Vegas while dad gambles away my college fund (phew! wasn't going to pass my exams anyway), I don't actually know. I'm really hoping there'll be an opportunity to get caught in the shower by a hot Latino maid, and then we end up boning. Other than that, whatever. I'm just gonna hit the streets and live for the moment, and hope I don't end up getting hit round the head by a Joe Pesci type with a phone. Seriously, that shit worries me.
Reforming boy band bad boys Blue have announced a very special guest for their comeback gig at Capital FM's party in the park - Jamaican sprinter and world's fastest man, Usain Bolt. The Olympic gold medallist will join them for a special reworked version of Sorry seems to be the hardest word, taking the place of Elton John.
It has been announced today that both sides of the 100% genuine celebrity love split will release matching his n' hers singles on June 1st, with Peter covering one hit wonder's Eamon's 2004's number one revenge hit F**k It (Don't Want You Back), while Katie hits back with a cover of Frankie's response, F U R B.
"This is what we think she'll look like at 80, in case anyone is still looking in 2085"