New Game Show

For the longest time celebrities have participated on game shows. There’s a great Youtube clip of Salvador Dali on the 1950’s What's My Line? and I remember seeing anyone from Paul Lynde to Tony Danza on Password and $64,000 Pyramid. Game shows are still a big deal, just ask Drew Carrey.

Personally I think a lot of the new ones suck. And the participants must be drunk, high or profoundly retarded to act like such utter assholes over a stupid dining set or Jetski. Deal or No Deal involves about as much skill as Russian Roulette; which would probably be a much more entertaining concept, especially given these dipshit contestants (Think Carrot-Top meets Dane Cook, but MORE annoying). Note:I paused here for 30mins, transfixed w/ the fantasy of watching a Carrot-Top/Dane Cook amalgam taking a bullet a la The Deer Hunter.

Anyway, my idea for a new game show is simple:Celebrity Drinking Games! Every show would be prefaced w/ Gary Coleman chugging a bottle of Southern Comfort, telling everyone to “drink responsibly, Mr. D” and Danny Bonaduce crushing a beer can against his forehead.

There are so many possibilities! Games of skill like beer pong, caps and flip cup! Card games like Circle of Death, Asshole and Screw the Dealer! NTM sweeps week specials like Century club. I figure that if Howie Mandel can have a whole show full of drunken retards, then so can I.

Imagine a weekend of special “rehab guests”:
Matthew Perry and John Daley against Bobby Brown and Robert Downey Jr in a grueling game of quarters? I call Iron Man! I’m telling you, this would be much more interesting to watch than seeing Doogie Howser play the fat, black dude from Transformers in Texas Hold ‘Em. I actually like watching poker on TV. But to watch some washed-up celebutards get drunk and throw down would really be Must-See-TV.

Additionally this would end years of speculation over who can drink the most. Some people say Lohan, Tom Sizemore or Andy Dick. My guess would have to be Gary Busse. He’s the perfect poster boy for that part of
the Venn diagram including the intersection of “drunk” and “retarded”.

Embarrassing Alcohol Story #19.5b

Note:This is a true and tragically graphic story, proceed at your own risk.

My roommate through most of med school was an interesting guy. Let’s call him Brad. One of the areas Brad excelled in was women, and he earned the nickname “The Jewish Wilt Chamberlain” for his efforts. He took on the Herculean task of providing new college girls w/ sexual orientation (introducing them to toys, pubic landscaping and how to get off in general).

One random Saturday morning I was checking cnn.com when he came stumbling in at 9am, reeking of cheap alcohol and a Port-O-Potty. He made his way into the bathroom, where more stumbling was audible: “You ok, man?” I asked.

“Dude, you won’t believe the night I just had….”

Brad had met up w/ 2 undergrad girls from the local college the previous night. Being the mench that he was, he planned on expanding their curriculum. Note that he was 30y/o and I was 24. Best guess is that these girls were 19. As the smooth talking Hebrew, he convinced these coeds to invite him and a giant bottle of Tequila over to their apt for a night of debauchery.

The evening started out with a few drinks and an occasional bong hit, pretty standard... actually. Brad possessed a ginormous alcohol tolerance and suggested that they play card games w/ the loser having to pound shots of Patron in hopes of quickly intoxicating his female hosts. But the poker Gods did not favor this plan and Brad lost nearly all the games that were played.

The end result of this strategy was a ½ empty carafe of tequila, 2 horny college chicks and my roommate too drunk to do anything about it. Aside from finishing the other half of the tequila bottle, the remaining details of the night were not very clear. Apparently an anonymous, foul-smelling college frat boy showed up to drink and smoke up w/ them as the evening progressed. At some premature time, Brad passed out with his face to the floor. Frank the tank, indeed.

He awoke around 5am, still drunk and disoriented. The smell of a diaper changing station filled the apartment. Brad lifted his head to see the frat boy passed out on the couch. That frat boy was farting up a fucking shit storm! Deciding against spooning with the malodorous college kid, Brad turned on his side to resume his slumber.

A 2nd time he awoke to whispers of the girls and a still lingering, but diminished scent of the college boy’s stale farts as the morning sun heated the room. The whispers quieted and Brad heard the voices leave the apt. College boy had vacated the couch so Brad quickly stole his spot. He slept there for another 2hrs. When he woke up this last time he felt something cold and itchy in his pants. Reaching down to scratch his ass my roomma-

“No way!” He said out loud. “No… Fucking…. Way!”

Then it hit Brad like that moment in The Sixth Sense when Bruce Willis realizes he’s actually dead: The whispers from the girls, the overpowering stench of a baby’s fresh diaper. And just like when Willis notices the bullet wound in his abdomen w/ blood spilling out of his back, Brad looked down in absolute horror to see a giant brown skid mark on the seat of his pants extending south toward his ankle and continuously leaking onto the floor and couch.

My roommate sprinted to the bathroom and took off his boxers, which apparently did resemble a dirty, cloth diaper only much colder. He wiped his filthy ass the best he could and then put his shit-stained jeans back on commando style.

“I just wanted to have a threesome w/ those college girls!” Brad shouted to me from the shower. No good deed, right?