May Daze

I gotta check my horoscope... just to get confirmation that this week was supposed to be as crazed as it was for me. Sometimes life outside of the studio is just as, if not more bonkers than all the shennanigans that go on over the air.

Hmmm. But let's see... on Tuesday I had my unprecedented man-on-the-street interview assignment with America's newswoman. Good ol' Katie Couric. What did the stars have in store then?

"Overview:'Let the good times roll' is your motto -- and when other people see how well you're doing with it, they'll want to join in on the fun. How convenient! 'The more, the merrier' happens to be your back-up motto right now."

Well there definitely were people joining in on the fun... if you count Katie-holics, angry husbands and homeless people! That's pretty on point. Oh, by the way, here's some action shots from the big night...
Now how could she not talk to me when I mean business like that. See what I'm sayin?! Yeah?? Good. Anyway I deployed many tactics throughout the night...

Notice the adoring young woman, staring in adoration of my journalistic prowess and determination. Either that or my boxers sticking out. But that was on purpose as well! You've heard those attraction to younger men rumors with Ms. Couric, oh yes...


And there she is, right before I struck. Yeah, that smile didn't last for long... Sorry to all the fans whose toes I stepped on and whose kids I may have shoved aside. Truly, deeply, I apologize. All in the name of the scoop. Anyway the mission was accomplished! Alicia Lane, I'm comin' for you next. Be prepared. Be scared.

Time to Strip Again...

Only this time there will be no broadcast, no video (sorry, ladies), alas... not even a mere casual observer. At least I think so. We'll see... the girlfriend and I are headed to the good ol' Jersey shore this afternoon! It's summer as far as we're concerned. As long as we can weather the thunderstorms and massive brushfires, we should be headed for the paradise of Lavallette, NJ. The destination where tourists are endangered species (or so I've heard). Let's just say I'm hoping to relax and catch a tan through the cloudy skies, without hearing 'Dance Dance Revolution' in the background.

Yes, the newly unemployed girlfriend and I will be reminiscing about the days of old... like last Thursday. The phonecalls. The databases. The shiny new coffeepot and the way it filled up our cubicles... Aaahhhh. Whatever happened to those days?!

THEY'RE GONE! And we just got to celebrate. Not even a week's anniversary... but we can't help it. Screw the dole, we are on the beach. So I am looking forward to that very much. What do you think, hot pants? Should I bust them out again? I don't think I have swimming trunks in Philly. Just gym shorts. Eh, it's Jersey, who gives one...

If Billy Joel can talk about weekends at the Jersey shore, I aint' worried about what I look like there. Just give me a quiet, needle-less beach and an ounce of sun. I'll be smiling. Oh, I'll also be smiling if my car makes it both ways. Yeah, that would be cool too.

I'm off to find a decent 6-pack.

An Intern's Commencement Address...

Loyal listeners, especially of the 21-25 yr ols demographic... you may have heard The John DeBella Show's own, Giant Brian, proclaim his wisdom on life after college today. I found it to be a rather noble and honest opinion piece on the life and times of the college grad.

I would like to further the discussion and offer my somewhat wet-behind-the-ears experience into the world of "post-degree". My advice? Take that bachelor's degree. I know, looks like a high school diploma. Hmmm... feels like a high school diploma. Well, you know the old adage- then it is the equivalent of a high school diploma!

Is it?! I don't know. I haven't really made myself too visible yet in the job-seeker pool. Can you believe I actually enjoy all the abuse here?! I guess I do. That and hugs from Brian. They make it all worth while. But can I get a witness?! College is the new high school, and finding a good entry-level job is about as easy as finding good entry to the Playboy Mansion. But I have been supplementing the money MGK pays me to strip, with various odd-jobs round the town...

And this week, I am happy to announce that I have once again stripped ...myself of my one and only CRAP job! Let's call it my "Sanjaya" gig- the one that started with some promise, a little hype and excitement, only to peak really early... and just cling there... and become burdensome, then loathsome, then disgraceful, then somebody hide my gun!

Well, I am happy and proud, bursting with excitement and freedom actually... to say that #2 part-time job, my market research gig, let's call it "Sanjaya and Associates" HAS BEEN VOTED OFF! And there won't be any work for him to follow... no coat-tails to hold on to. Sorry, your Idol Tour has been cancelled. Indefinitely.

Let's just say when John says "Don't take any crap from anybody," his intern listens.

Man-Maid?!

Yeah... not so much. I hope! Look, I love mothers as much as the next good son. I'm the oldest of 5- got nothin' but love, respect and adoration! But if I dress up like whatever freak y'all are voting on, I'm gonna lose all love. Respect. Adoration. ...Heterosexuality (which I happen to enjoy very much!)

So all you "kinks" out in DeBellaware Valley- 'Vote or Die' does not apply here. But if you must! Just remember... Brian wants maid and he is always wrong! In fact, after some internet research, I discovered that HE, in fact, has once donned the maid garb... witness!



Pink booty shorts or whatever the other crap candidate is will NOT be touching my skinny little white ass either, so let's just stop with the voyeuristic fantasies, shall we? Thank you. Don't even make me dig up pictures of that to deter you. In fact, here's an idea- start a petition for me. I know there's some 'Dave' fans out there, right?! And I don't mean the hippie frat-band guy. I'm talkin' routers for the underdog, the oppressed?! Well, here's your man. Right here. Help a brotha out! I am your Philadelphia Phillies, your Barbaro. If I gotta clean in one of these get-ups, you might as well break my leg and send me get well cards.


Think of my Mother then! Show some brotherly love for Christ's (and my) sake!

Check Engine... or else.

Well I know, I've become somewhat blog-slacker as of late. I admit it. There's a lot more goin though! Sometimes the memoir's gotta be the sacrificial lamb for churning out one amazing show after another. Dig?! Good...

Yes, a lot going on these days. More responsibilities on the show, in life! I wish John had Brian take that Bazooka bat to my car last week instead of me- it might have gotten my "Check Engine" light to shut off, and I coulda passed inspection! Unfortunately yesterday, I had to dip my hand deeper into my pockets than I did my face in mayo. And it was just to pay off a garage to tell me I failed inspection AND emissions!

Thanks, Tom (and fellow grease monkeys). I'm happy to dish out $95 for you to look at my tires and say 3 are shabby, and see that my check engine light is on. That's a sweet lil' pay-to-fail racket you got yourselves there- I'm in the wrong business! Good thing you're not my dentist... "Smile. Teeth could be whitened... 200 dollars, please." Or my landlord... "Your grass cutting sucks- rent's doubled!" Maybe my college professor... "Your thesis is a piece of shit- give me 50 bucks. Now."

God almighty. How does any car pass inspection?! Have you ever seen ANY car, made before 1998, that HASN'T had that stupid light on?>! I freakin' hate that light, man. That God-forsaken little orange turd that blinks... that obnoxious, money-costing, good-for-nothing, fear-mongering, choad sentence that now haunts me EVERY TIME I SIT BEHIND THE WHEEL!

Let this be a lesson to you, DeBella fans... don't let that little light stare you down much longer! It will get you. I don't care if you have to crawl up into the hood, inside your car, fore-arm deep in a jungle of twisted metal, gears and boiling oil... shut that damn light off!