Between my newly updated iPhone and Facebook, I cannot concentrate on a single, frakkin’ thing. I’m waking up and checking my phone. Not for missed calls from actual people, or even for emails from said actual people. I’m just checking Facebook to find out what trivial crap everybody’s up to. I used to think, “Who cares if you’re waiting in line at Lamps Plus?” or “Who gives a monkey’s poot if you’re sitting next to a stinky person on the train? Deal.” Who cares? Me! Apparently I care more than I can express to non-Facebookers. Are there any? I want to know them. I want to know how they spend their days. And I want to know in 160 characters, placed right under their bolded name and right next to a photo of them, or their cute baby/pet/cartoon icon.

(we take a brief break from our regularly scheduled content…)

It’s never marijuana is it? Dying of illegal drugs is so 70′s.

I went down to Hollywood Boulevard yesterday to shoot some footage of the crowd who was there to put really awful memorabilia and bad airbrushed t-shirts on his star. I’ll post a video soon. “Soon” being a word I’m constantly redefining.

My favorite bit aside from asking everyone if this “was the line to see Farrah’s star?”, was to try and circulate rumors that he died of marijuana. Which is funny, because it’s never marijuana.