Tuesday, March 21, 2006

thank god for basic cable...

So, apparently I’ve been living a lie. We all have, actually. My hookup at CNN gave me the early scoop and I’ve been reading about it ever since.
Dog, Bounty Hunter will be marrying Beth this coming season.
Pardon me? One more time, please. Uh, what?
Anyone who’s watched Bounty Hunter assumed that Beth and Dog were married. My god, in the opening credits, each person is introduced by their relationship to Dog, ie; “Leland, Dog’s son.”
You know what it says for Beth? “Beth, Dog’s WIFE.”
Hello? What the hell is going on, people?
One would think that Dog, die-hard Christian ex-con that he is, would have long ago made an honest woman out of the mother of 2 of his 12 children. Mais non.
Let’s go to the man himself for a quote.
"I'm marrying my common-law wife, Beth, the Christian way, with a preacher and all that.”
Oh, but wait. It gets better. The guest list for the May 20th nuptials will include Danny Bonaduce, Wynonna Judd, and Hulk Hogan.
How do you say fabulous in Hawaiian? And I do I get an invite? Mother of God, I could die a happy woman. The wedding of Dog and Beth? Are you kidding me? I can’t even begin to imagine the armbands, the hair-dos, the ceremonial tattoos.
Seriously. I’m crashing this wedding. And I’m taking Big Chris. This is one of the rare occasions where I would need to look to him for white trash etiquette and protocol…

Oh, and PS. We all know what premiere’s tonight at 9, right? I’ll give you a hint.
“It doesn’t say Tina on the bottle. It says Jonathan on the bottle. For a reason.”
He’s ba-ack…

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

What? This is wonderfully odd news. I'm shocked. Shocked!
I wonder if Leland needs a date???

And hey. I heard about Rhonda. I am so fucking glad you and Mike are okay. Oh my god. If anything ever happened to Beth - I simply couldn't go on.
You're the best, Spots.
i.l.y.

Spots said...

Thanks! Me too.
Let it be known, however, that should I ever die tragically, I want a video montage to Moby's "Porcelain." And I want my ashes scattered in the following places:
Sea Ranch, Saranac Lake, the 6th floor of The Awahnee, the first class cabin of a British Airways jet, the fireplace of The Buckeye and the Lucky Penny...

Spots said...

Also, should anyone wish to have my likeness tattooed on their person, they will be remembered generously in my will. I mean, my 99% complete collection of New Kids on the Block trading cards, still safely protected in their organized binder could be worth dozens of dollars by now...

Anonymous said...

This is a morbid conversation, but I want my ashes scattered on MySpace. Is that possible? Actually, I want them scattered on a Hawaiian beach, Martha's Vineyard and the third table from the wall at Zeitgeist.

kate said...

What kind of person watches Dog, Bounty Hunter and Blow Out with equal enthusiasm?

Anonymous said...

I am a straight man and I have been your friend for 3 years. And since you, I've become addicted to Blow Out and Project Runway, refused to wear pleated-front pants, sniffed my wine and attended themed parties which you call "soirees."
But I've never questioned any of this until now.
Beth, I love you. But I just took a "Which Golden Girl Are You?" Test.
I am no longer a man.

sfmike said...

Well, which Golden Girl were you, straight dude?

And Beth, how was the Tranny show?

Anonymous said...

Beth, who's your favorite straight? While we're asking and all. Keep in mind, you've got a whole contingent that doesn't know these people. So, who's THE guy? I know there's ONE? Who???

Spots said...

It's a toss up between Jonathan Antin and Leland Chapman.
Ha-ot...

Anonymous said...

i'm sophia. don't be knocking pleated pants. and i want my ashes to be scattered in phoebe's litter box.

moody spice

Spots said...

SFMike,
Veronica's show was awesome. You've GOT to go.
www.veronicaklaus.com

~and~

Sophia Spice,
Pleated pants are a narrow tightrope. Not everyone can handle the fabric. Armani is one thing. Dockers is entirely another. And Pheobe's litterbox is a pristine zen sand-garden. I could make some kind of pussy joke here, but that'd be tacky...