Douchebag: The Official Mascot of Los Angeles

I attended a bachelorette party this past weekend for a great friend of mine. Celebrating comes easy to me - I’ll celebrate just about anything - birthdays, selling a script, a Piston’s win, the color green, Tuesdays, you catch my drift? I had the air conditioning fixed in my car last week. I celebrated that as well. So, needless to say, partying with my girlfriend in celebration of her upcoming nuptials came quite easily. Fourteen girls spent the weekend by the pool at the Viceroy, dining at great restaurants, learning to pole dance, ankle crunking at nightclubs, etc., all of which was wonderful. What wasn’t wonderful was the amount of douchebags roaming around LA. Their like our f-ing mascot. Granted, Hollywood imports a majority of these dickheads from the O.C., San Diego, and Redlands on the weekends, but nevertheless, they’re out there, and they’re wreaking havoc on our nightlife.

Take for instance, the three guys who were hanging out, a little too close for comfort, near our bachelorette’s table on Saturday night…They were, what I consider to be, the epitome of a Reject - and that’s me being nice.

Let me paint a really clear picture for you…They didn’t have a table, so they stood there, talking to each other, drooling over girls on the dance floor who wouldn’t give them the time of day. And most girls are whores, ready and willing to go home with almost anything, so you know this crew was bad news. They didn’t know assholes from elbows and they might as well have been standing there, holding each other’s mediocre pricks in their hands. I guess girls just aren’t attracted to overweight, Rogain-dependent, middle-aged Losers - go figure. We don’t care if you “work in real estate”, how much you can bench press, and your UCIrvine degree is NOT impressive. Did I mention, I towered over these guys (I’m 5′7”) and I’m pretty sure one of them had bigger tits than my sister, who has a pretty nice rack. I can say that because she’s my sister. Anyway, I know I don’t really come off this way, but I truly am sweet as sugar, and apparently very talkative when sloshed. So, I float over, champagne in hand and ask for a cig, figuring just this bit of conversation will make their night. I get a cig, they get attention from at least one person with a vagina - everybody wins. They claim they bummed theirs and have no more. Fine. No big deal. But as I walk away, I hear Douchebag #1 say “This place is really going downhill.” I whirl back around and see Douchbag #2 pull a pack of Parliments from his pocket. Ugh…DOOOOUUUUUCCCCCHHHHHEEEEBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAGGGGGG! I was trying to be nice by using them for a cigarette. (*btw, I only smoke when I’m drunk, Mom).

Let me just say, I consider myself to be kind of attractive - I’m no Jessica Alba or Sienna Miller, but I do alright. I wish I had said something right then, or slapped him, or stuck my stiletto in his eyeball, SWF style, but ever since an incident in college I’ve been trying to exercise self control, so instead I’ve decided to bitch about them on my blog, in hopes that this somehow finds it’s way to one of their corny, freaky, and pedophiliac myspace pages.

“Hey Douchebags - channeling King Reject himself, Brody Jenner, does not make you look cool, your studded jeans and Ed Hardy T-shirts are lame, using that much gel in your hair should be illegal and lay off the tanning beds for a bit - only LeeLo can pull off orange skin. Quit going to clubs. In fact, quit leaving your shithole apartments in general. There’s a reason why you’re all single and jacking each other off at night. And it’s not the quality of women surrounding you. Trust that. Why don’t you give up on your useless acting career - there are no roles for rejects with mantits - hop in your TransAm and go back to whatever low class, Floridian village you hail from. While you’re at it…when you see your mother this mother’s day, give her a slap across the face, from me, for raising such a toolbag. I’m pretty sure your dad’s are not around - and you can’t blame them - I would’ve split too, the second you hit puberty and I realized you were going to be a world class retard who never accomplishes a thing in life. The only thing going “downhill” is each of you on each other, because a little friendly tea-bagging from your “bros” is all the action you’re going to be able to get in life. Best of luck.”

*A note to all my friends…If you know these guys or even just know guys like this, please forward this on and make sure this important message is read by any and all douchebags out there.

Remember, we CAN make a difference.

happy belated bEarthday!

With all this green hubalub going on surrounding Earth Week, I figured I should do what I’m best at and join the party. Though I prefer the other green holiday…St. Patricks Day (a day where it’s not only okay, but encouraged, to drink ’til you’re vomiting on yourself, in a public restroom, while making out with several strangers, one of whom is dressed like a leprechaun), I guess I can also find a place in my heart to celebrate the birthday of our dear Mother Earth. She should be honored. My own mother hasn’t received even a birthday card since ‘84 (and my pre-school teacher made me make that one). Anyway, it’s Earth Week. And if I’m correct (which is rare), yesterday was Earth Day, so Happy Belated Bearthday!

The Green phenomenon is wild. Al Gore makes a little film called an Inconvenient Truth and suddenly everyone jumps on his back, like a clown giving piggy back rides at the state fair. Don’t get me wrong…I love being green, especially since I heard BEER may be global warming’s next victim. And because Leo’s green. I do everything Leo does, but I have my own ideas for ways to go “Green” and help Save the Planet.

Here are my Top 3 (was going to be 5, but I’m feeling a little lazy) Green Tips:

1. It’s no big secret that we should all make efforts to maintain an Earth-Friendly Diet. Smartie Green People tell us to buy local/organic foods, eat foods that are in season, cut down on meat consumption, yada, yada, yada. The U.N. Food and Agricultural Organization blames 18% of greenhouse gas emissions on the production, transportation and consumption of red meat. (*Note: I guess I have to now thank Tyra for her Beef Curtains episode as I have not touched red meat since it aired). Essentially, meat eaters are leaving giant, shit-kicking carbon boot prints on the Earth while Vegetarians are barely tip-toeing on our land. So, yeah, these tips are effective, but I think I have a better solution…something that will make a much bigger impact. Tip #1…STARVE YOUR CHILDREN. That’s right. Chances are your kid’s already a tug-boat, but if not, it’s only a matter of time. Today’s youth has purchased a one way ticket on the Obesity Train, so, starve the little fucker. Yeah, they’ll probably whine and cry at first, but eventually hunger pains subside, the starvation process begins, the stomach will begin feeding on it’s own bile, and then, soon enough, the stomach will shrink and the amount of food the child is then dependent on will drastically decrease. (*Note - if you’re child is a maniac and has been prescribed Ritalin, problem solved… Hungry kids have no energy!) Now, I’m not proposing you starve your kid forever. Every once in awhile, toss the little shit a cucumber or a head of broccoli (locally grown, of course) and teach him/her a lesson in rationing. While the kid learns an important survival tool, AND grows thinner, you’ll be doing your part to keep Earth green. The bonus… Nothing is better than a skinny, self-sufficient child with low energy.

2. Every year the U.S. imports more shit (oil, food, flowers, paper, steel, petroleum, textiles, etc.) than any other country in the world. America is THE bully on the playground, taking all the smaller kids’ oreo cookies, licking the cream out, and throwing the less valued cookie part back in their face. And the fact is, the act of importing directly contributes to global warming. Whether it’s having wild orchids imported from Thailand or adopting an orphan from Russia, the impact that transportation has on the Earth is tremendous. The Smartie Green Peeps tell us to decrease our dependence on foreign commodities. Ha. They’ve obviously never slept on silk sheets imported from Bhaglapur. What everyone should realize by now, is that we have needs, and we ARE America, so our needs are much more important than the needs of others. I have come to terms and made my peace with the idea of taking from those less fortunate. Survival of the fittest, right? How else are we going to power our SUV’s or heat our swimming pools or be able to order the Toro at Nobu? Oh, the dilemma… But there is one thing we can do to lessen the impact our imports have on global warming…BAN CHILD LABOR LAWS and LEGALIZE U.S. SWEATSHOPS. We are the ultimate consumers so why not manufacture in-house? Not only will the cost of Nikes made in our own sweatshops decrease, but we’ll no longer have to import textiles and thus, reduce the U.S. impact on global warming. I’m surprised Walmart didn’t come up with this idea long ago. In fact, every country should do as the west does and BAN child labor laws. Fuck ‘em. Kids should work. And they should do it for free, in haphazard conditions, without bathroom breaks and with little food. In fact, if we can enslave the kids who are already being starved, this won’t even be a problem. The bonus…Gap is in the clear, Kids learn the value of a dollar, and preserve the Earth they stand to inherit.

3. Global Warming is caused by toxic gases which are released into the atmosphere. These gases have undoubtedly led to the melting of the polar ice cap at an unthinkable rate. The Smartie Green Peeps are constantly reminding us of ways to reduce our carbon footprint and decrease the amount of toxins released into the air. But what about all those nasty little skanks running around without underwear, spreading their legs whenever some rich douche bag in studded jeans and an Ed Hardy T-shirt gives them a pervy-wink? What about the toxins they’re releasing into the earth’s atmosphere every time they climb out of an Escalade? Shouldn’t we re-focus our efforts to making their brown-eyes “green”? And this brings me to   Tip #3…UNIVERSAL CORKAGE FEE (if you don’t keep your legs crossed, put on some underwear and keep your stink hole closed, you will be FINED). What if we shove a permanent cork up Leelo’s stinky pink? What if we sew Brit-Brit’s hot pocket shut like the chick on ANTM? And Paris’s entire lower body, below that disgusting naval ring, should be amputated, Ruinsstyle, just for the safety of the free world and my sanity. This will not only save a good portion of the population, whose hometown was unlucky enough to end up on the Good Charlotte tour, from inevitable STD’s, but will also STOP the emissions of what can only be classified as the “worst of the worst” greenhouse gases. It’s no wonder LA’s covered in a nasty smog. Let’s just say, whatever is leaking from these chicks’ effaces is NOT okay. Why else would the term “firecrotch” have been invented?  

So, there we have it… Maybe my ideas aren’t as innovativeas changing out the light bulbs in your house to energy efficient ones or buying a hybrid vehicle, but I’m pretty confident, if we can implement my “green” ideas into our everyday lives, we can make a difference.

If this blog has left you completely unsatisfied with ways you can make a difference, please refer to the following websites, written by the real Smartie Green People who actually have a clue what the fuck they’re talking about when it comes to saving the planet:

www.greenisthenewpink.org  www.orGLAMic.wordpress.com

Your humbled green servent, Harman

National Slimebag Day

Lately it seems that covering up a good sex scandal is getting harder and harder…damn it…whatever happended to the good ’ol days? 

With a wide circulation of gossip magazines, television, the internet and the relatively new addition of sites such as YouTube, there’s just no escaping the public humiliation you’re bound to face if you cheat on your wife, solicit sex in a bathroom stall, sexually harass your intern, fondle a minor or pay thousands for a prosititute.

What I’ve been trying to wrap my head around is why we seem to care so much about some Idaho Senator’s sexual indescretions or a New York Governor’s hooker obsession. We don’t care if Brad fucks Angelina while he’s still married to Jen. We didn’t see him make a public apology and hand over his SAG Card. Why? It’s not because he doesn’t have a political agenda. Between him and Angelina they’ve done more to better this world than a Senator/Governor/President does in a lifetime. No…we forgive and forget because he’s hot. And so is Angelina. And we like to imagine them having dirty sex in a movie trailer. We do NOT, however, want to imagine Larry Craig balls deep in some stranger’s mouth, in an airport restroom. But that’s beside the point. What it all comes down to is HONESTY. We, the American People, just don’t want to be lied to. Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining. You know what I mean?

So in an effort to STOP THE LIES, I suggest we do away with the public humiliation and rather, embrace their deviant acts by creating a day to celebrate our political leaders who have been involved in the dirtiest of sex scandals. Political figures whom I figure just never learned how to draw inside the lines because they repeatedly use their penises like Harold used his Purple Crayon, marking their territory all over, what should be, our FINE country.

The sex scandal stretches as far back as George Washington’s rumored extramarital affairs. Thomas Jefferson was fucking his slave. Warren G. Harding is rumored to have been poisoned by his wife when she discovered he was having an affair. Alexander Hamilton was dropping batches left and right, and NOT in his wife. Presidents like JFK, FDR and Dwight D. Eisenhower made it kind of “cool” to sleep around. I mean, JFK was a stud, right? Marilyn Monroe, Angie Dickinson, Inga Arvad, some stripper named Blaze, a few White House secretaries he endearingly referred to as “Fiddle” and “Faddle”. Nevermind he was married to America’s sweetheart, Jackie O., there was a Cuban Missile crisis going on in our young president’s trousers.

The list goes on and on…civic leaders, “upstanding moralists” who made it their mission to spread their seed…Newt Gingrich was getting BJ’s from a campaign worker. David Vitter (R-LA) was a client of the DC Madam. Mark Fowley (R-FL) had a fondness for little boys. Bob Allen (R-FL) solicited an undercover cop for oral sex valued at $20. Ken Calvert, a Christian Coalition Cheerleader was nabbed, nabbing a prosititute in the back seat of his car and tried to flee the scene. Silly Christian…tricks are for kids (a.k.a., drunk, horny frat boys on spring break in Vegas).

And who can forget Clarence Thomas asking Anita Hill if there was a “pubic hair” in his coke, or if she ever dined at “Long Dong Silver.” If there were more than 365 days in a year, I’d give Clarence his own day just for being witty and slimy all at the same time.

And of course we have Clinton and Monica. Clinton and Jen Flowers. Clinton and Juanita Broaddrick. Clinton and…shall I continue?

McGreevy kept his lover on the payroll. That’s right…some of your tax dollars went to keeping his manwhore happy.

Recording to reports, Eliot Spitzer may have spent upwards of $80,000.00 on prostitutes over the past ten years. Just to put this in perspective, If the NY Spermanator had invested that money in political endeavors, he would’ve been a hero. Try this on for size…13,000,000 American Children - that’s 1 in 5 - live in households that are hungry…it costs roughly $34/year to feed a child in school. Spitzer could have single handedly paid for 235 kids to eat a healthy breakfast and lunch for 10 years. Way to go, dipshit. And, P.S., Spitz, you’re whore was beat. If you’re paying $4700.00 a pop, that stinkbag better be good looking, at least.

Even our beloved George W. Bush has had some scandal brushed under the rug…does anyone find it odd that the two women in our president’s past, one who cried “rape” (Margie Schoedinger) and one stripper who claims the two had an affair (Tammy Phillips), have turned up either DEAD or MISSING? Hmmm? Something smells fishy and it’s not just GDubs finger.

I could go on and on all day long, but I have to remember my main point…Let’s not beat these scoundrels down. Let’s celebrate their lack of moral code, infedelities, disgusting obsessions, and pedophilic urges. Come on…Are you with me?!

I declare May 1st, 2008 (just because), the first annual NATIONAL SLIMEBAG DAY. So get ready…it’s coming soon!

What shall you do to celebrate, you ask?  Well, first of all, call in sick to work, start your morning off with a shot, (cum shots are preferred), spend a small fortune (hopefully your child’s college tuition) on some low rent hooker, stalk some pre-schoolers, solicit a stranger on the street for a BJ, smoke a cigar that’s been soaked in vagina, and have a good time…just be honest when you do it.

And my final plea…Please, please, please Obama (I guess this goes for Hillary, as well) keep your dick in your pants. I want to believe in Change.

March Madness

I’m not one of those girls who bitches about the men in her life wanting to spend countless hours on the couch, getting fat, watching sports, gambling on games, joining fantasy leagues in order to feel like they too are world class athletes…rather, I like to join in on the fun. Sure, when I hear someone screaming “King James is the shit!” at the television set, my first thought is that the History Channel must be airing a documentary on the life of King James of England and whomever is screaming must be a very big fan of the King James version of The Holy Bible. My second thought might be of James King, the model turned actress. My brain doesn’t automatically direct itself to basketball legend in the making, Lebron James (aka King James). And yeah, I don’t use terms like “make it rain” or “this is our house”, but I do love me some college “hoops” and today I made my picks for the NCAA Men’s Tourney. Here are my thoughts on the Sweet 16 and how I arrived at my conclusions… 

Keep in mind, during regular season play I watch one team and one team only…that’s Central Michigan University where my little brother, Robbie Harman, has been kickin’ ass in the morning and taking names in the evening for the past two years.  

They were knocked out of the MAC Tourney by some shmilly team that needs not be mentioned, but we expect big things from them next year! Go Harman! 

Okay…my picks: 

UNC v. Indiana - They’re ranked no. 1 in offensive efficiency and I really like the way the navy blue and baby blue look together…so I’m going to have to go with UNC on this one. 

George Mason v. Washington St.- George Mason reminds me too much of a man I dislike very much, George W. Bush. Stick it in your ass GDubs. 

Oklahoma v. Boise St. - My manager went to OU and she’s responsible for getting me work so…OU it is. Sooner? I hardly know her. 

Butler v. Tennessee - Tennessee Williams is one my fave playwrights and he rocked a killer moustache which I’m really into right now, so I’m picking Tennessee over…Butler? Just met her. 

Kansas v. Kent St. - I would normally go with Kent St. on this one because I get so sad when I think about the shootings in 1970 and they really deserve it, but if I don’t choose Kansas it’s like shooting myself in the foot…Oh, the dilemma! 

Clemson v. Vanderbilt - Tigers v. Commodores…come on…Commodores? Really? Dorks. I’m going with Clemson Tigers fo sho. 

USC v. Wisconsin - I went to USC, made my closest friends at USC, mastered my drinking skills at USC, I AM USC…Plus, I had an ex-bf who went to Wisconsin. He turned out to be a tool so…FIGHT ON TROJANS! 

Gonzaga v. Georgetown- Gonzaga is really fun to say, but they got man-handled by no-namers USD. So embarrassing. Georgetown!  

Memphis v. Oregon - Hey Ducks! Take a hike down lonely street to a place called Heartbreak Hotel - Memphis is going to give you the Elvis Pelvic Thrust right out of the tourney. 

Michigan St.V. Pittsburg - I’m from Michigan, and my baby sister is a Pre-Med student there. I have best friends, cousins, my roommate - all MSU Alumni. This one’s a no brainer. 

Marquette v. Stanford - I’m going with Marquette to upset Stanford because Marquette is named after French explorer Jacques Marquette and I took French in high school. Je voudrais la Marquette vaincre le Stanford. Ils ont tres tres stupide. 

St. Mary’s v. Texas - Texas. Longhorns. I like cowboys and as CHEESY as he may be, I even like Matthew McConaughey, receding hairline and all. Plus, the Gaels got embarrassed by USD just like Gonzaga. 

UCLA v. BYU - Though I’m a huge fan of HBO’s Big Love and I’d love to see some good ol’ Mormon boys kick some Bruin ass, it’s just not going to happen. The good news, BYU, is Jesus Christ is still on your side! 

Drake v. UCONN - duh. 

Purdue v. Xavier- I really like Xavier. I used to want to name my first son Xavier. Then I realized my first son was probably not going to be black (still hopeful for son #2 and #3) so I changed the name to Tom. Good luck Xavier! 

Arizona v. Duke - Blue Devils…I always side with the Devil - I’m keeping him on my good side since I’ll most likely be spending eternity in Hell. 

Happy March Madness! Let the games begin…

Tyra’s Beef Curtains

Have the producers of America’s Next Top Model lost their f-ing minds? I guess tarantulas and under water photo shoots are soooo cycle seven… Tonight’s episode featured the models (if you can call them that) wearing slabs of raw meat as turtlenecks, bras and even panties, giving a whole new meaning to the term roast beef curtains. First of all, I’d like to say that up until I watched this episode I was a healthy carnivore who never really bothered to ask where my meat comes from. Call me crazy, but I guess I just trusted the FDA when they tell me my meat is “Grade A” or “no nasty skank rubbed her nipple on it”. Well I trust no longer. I’ll definitely be rethinking the Kobe Beef Sliders or the New York Strip next time I’m out, and you should do the same. That is unless you like your steak marinated in vapid, anorexic model juice.

Thanks Tyra…I fucking hate tofu.

Not only were the “models” draped in meat, but the photo shoot took place inside a giant Frigidaire in the Meat Packing District of Manhattan which the “models” treated as if it were their own closet of beef couture; clawing, fondling and even straddling the carcasses. Doesn’t that just make you want to zip right on over to Smith & Wollensky’s and order one rare? The photo shoot was uninspired and reminiscent of a PETA ad, but lacking in passion (apparent by the dumb expression on every girl’s face) and lacking PETA’s one saving grace…Pam Anderson’s double D’s. To put it nicely, I was thoroughly disgusted.

At least afterward, the ladies (if you can call them that) had good reason to vomit up anything they’d eaten that day.

Whatever The F#@! I Want

That’s what this blog is all about. Essentially I needed a place where I could exercise my freedom of speech, get things off my chest, make fun of people, share my point of view, discuss meaningless gossip, complain about the national climate, and bitch about anything and everything that comes to mind. And hey…it’s cheaper than therapy.