Bag the lawn refuse, put the recyclables out by the curb, it's Short-Haired Chick Friday.

So Pink's hot. She's a lot of woman. Kind of got a bulldog face, but I can get over that. I think everyone can, I think everyone wants to do Pink, no matter what they say.



Nobody fails anymore, how's she still around? She's called Pink and she has pink hair. They wear their clothes backwards and they're called Kriss Kross, Get it?



This sort of gimmick is ordinarily a deathknell. But nobody fails anymore. The industry just puts out so much product that everyone's welcome. Charlie Sheen is tv's #1sitcom dad? Jon Cryer has a job? Whatever happened to fly-by-night stars?



Child stars like Elijah Wood are in movies that make a trillion dollars. He was the co-star of The Good Son with Macaulay Culkin, back when kids knew how to bring a career to a crashing halt and not continue with unprecedented success. Guess Corey Haim (John Ritter?) didn't makes the deadline, though obviously his Vampire nemesis from Lost Boys did, hell even Jason Patric is still around. (John Ritter?)



Shit, I'm almost 34 and I'm the only non-hispanic on this bus. There's something sad about riding three hours both ways to log footage of a bunch of 24 year-olds driving around in Audi's because I can't afford a car.



There would be something sad about it, if I weren't almost 34. I should be jealous of of these kids as I play God watching their every move, but I know better, and you know better. Who knew what the fuck we were doing when we were 24? Could you imagine having everything handed to you at 24? Let's see, how quickly can I piss this away and significantly hurt my chances of ever getting it again?



Gameshows are no replacement for earning something. But earning something takes so fucking long. Oh, I guess reality stars fail, that would be the exception to my above theory. Though it kind of depends on how you define success.



I found all the hot chicks in L.A. They're all at Jill Benjamin's show, Wizardfinger, a monologues, magic, music, and movement showcase that Jill puts on and invites other talents from L.A. to come and perform. Jill and Jason Winer had very funny monologues. Note to Brendan, never leave an audience wondering if your teacher fucked you. Don't get me wrong, it was funny, but audiences should charge performers $50 a quarter-hour to play therapist...er analyst...er analrapist



Got to run into Josh and Missy finally, hadn't seen them yet. Josh broke his leg doing something I didn't know existed, a Zipline Tour. Evidently in the canopies of the forests of many South American tourist spots they string up these zip lines and you just zip from vista to vista, and every once in a while they don't tie the carabiners properly. Yipes.



But Jill hauls in the hotties, everyone at Molly McMurphy's? Murphy McMollies? Pholly McMickmick's? was hot and writers or actors with some degree of success. One of Jill's friends writes for My Name Is Earl which I only mention because it makes my sister think I'm famous because that's her favorite show ever ever ever!



Oh, Jessie, while I'm at it, they have a Jay & Silent Bob's Secret Stash in Santa Monica, I ride past it every day. They have the trenchcoat and bat-cowl from Mallrats and Matt Damon's Armor from Dogma in glass cases. The Potzer's sign from Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back was above the counter which was manned by Steve-Dave. They were closed, I know because the sign on the door said "Beat it, brown-eye, we're closed."



And Robin Tunney? Don't know a thing about her, except she's from Chicago. South Side, represent! Hey that's a reference from earlier. This has been one circular Short-Haired Chick Friday.