Tubba Predicts the Oscars

Thing #1 about the Oscars Tubba hates is all the stupid categories that don't matter. Best animated short? Best makeup? You get prizes for that? In pre-K, you get punched in your face and your snak-pak gets stolen.

Thing #2 that Tubba hates about the Oscars is that my 2nd annual viewing party (which rivals Elton John's in its fanfare and the availability of dozens of prescription drugs) was CANCELLED this year. Let it sink in. Now you're gonna shake a little. Sit with it. Breathe.

Apparently, Helmut is not allowed to be that close to that many Jewish people all at once. Even on television. His parents, who fled to the US from Austria via Argentina, are well into their dotage and have "extremist opinions" about Jews. But who doesn't? Take Sal for example. I love him. He's on retainer and at my disposal at all times. Plus, he just adjusted his retainer from $30,000 per annum to $100,000 per annum on account of the border war I started with Connecticut. That's lower, right? Tubba only knows up to 4. It would be below me to learn numbers. That's what we have the women for. Am I right or am I right?

Thing #3 that Tubba hates about the Oscars is white people. Check out the ginger b*tch interrupting my man 'Marbles' during his acceptance speech for the movie he made about lame people.

My man 'Marbles' with 2009 Kentucky Derby winner, Mine that Bird

See that fist, indicating that she cannot count past four? B*tch probably expects people like Tubba to do all the counting for her. Little does she know that much like the US Government and Wall Street, Tubba cares little for paltry differences between and among digits. Tubba only cares for himself (that is why the Government and Wall Street pay tithings to Tubba).

And finally, #4: Jeremy is pulling the Prius around to take me to the Harvard Square IHOP, where they don't play the stupid Oscars. And that's the last thing Tubba hates about the Oscars: that I can't watch them and eat pancakes at the same time. Although this isn't really Tubba's fault. We were going to watch at Fudrucker's in Connecticut, but then Jeremy's Mom told him that she has cancer, and then Jeremy started crying, and Tubba said "isn't that just code for gay, because Father McMullin said that being gay is a terrible disease that kills you, too." And then Tubba blacked out and Jeremy made some kind of scene, and then the fire engines came, and neither of us is allowed in Connecticut anymore.

Which is really too bad because Tubba LOVES funerals.

kisses,

Tub

Tubba's Sleepover Photo Update!

Tubba is pleased to report that the first annual Tubba/Helmut Frukgenserg-Hoch multi-national sleepover and pancake breakfast is going well. We've managed to find common ground! Tubba and Helmut both love figure skating. Tubba loves it for the bedazzled uniform body suits and Helmut loves it for the Nazi-like coaches, fueled by their own inadequacies, who secretly beat competitors when cameras are turned away.

Anyway, Tubba and Helmut wanted to provide a photo update for our night thus far. Enjoy.

First, Helmut cries a lot. Host #2 says to be nice to him because Helmut comes from an 'unreliable home life' and has a therapist. Helmut's therapist makes him draw his feelings... Gay.

I found this sketch in his nap-sack. Titled: 'Ethan, Tuesday Night'

And another, 'Boy, a Self Portrait'

Anyway, Helmut went on to tell Tubba all about his Dad:

And that his Dad was famous as the inventor of the Jean Jacket back in the 80s. That was until he got weird, then got really weird, and then pretended to be an LAPD Officer to cut through Burger King drive-thrus on foot.

After, Helmut was taken in by this man:

Prof. Herman Ali Onassis (no relation). That was until it was discovered Prof. Onassis was in fact a Soviet agent. That experience was later optioned by Warner Brothers and spun out into the classic TV show "Murphy Brown."

Just when Helmut was on the brink of spending Christmas alone, a Social Service officer located his Maternal Grandmother in Germany:

Frau Gruttenfutz Splindendockfick Hitler.

At this point in Helmut's story I was really, really bored. Really. And surprise, Helmut got weird. Expressing to me his deepest, darkest fears:

After I returned from frantically searching for my halloween clown mask to comfort Helmut, I was shocked to discover he was still fucking talking.

Thank God earlier in the day I had visited Bruce, my whacking salami supplier.

If anyone reads this, please send ammunition and whatever German's are allergic to.

King Tubba

Olympic Fallout

Prepare to be outraged: I am on punishment. Host and Host #2 have suspended my writ of habeas corpus; they are holding me without proof or bond. The slander against me is unproven.

There is NO evidence that it was me who bedazzled the kitty. It could have been anyone. Plus, he looks fabulous, despite the intestinal shredding he's been experiencing from eating bedazzles (it's a slow and inconvenient death. After careful preparation, you can spit out the bedazzles like buckshot and reuse them).

If you really want to blame someone,

blame Olympic-fairy-ice-dance-Princess

Evan Lysacek.

It is unbelievably hard to reproduce that level

of precision with a $19.99 bedazzler.

Anyway, Host #2 was going to cancel my sleepover with Helmut on Thursday night for punishment, but she recanted becasue Helmut doesn't have something called a "reliable meal" at home. Personally, I like my meals to be spontaneous and innovative.

Helmut is an outcast, so he hasn't been indoctrinated against me. We met last week in my new afternoon pre-K class. They switched me from morning pre-K because of complaints from parents; afternoon pre-K parents are abusive drug addicts so they never notice a few extra bite marks on their child.

Jeremy is taking me and Helmut to the Fudrucker's in Connecticut because they are banned in Boston for high-leavings content. Tubba got clearance to bring lego people and trucks on the car ride, which had previously been banned due to repeat offenses of jamming things under Jeremy's gas pedal (that MAY have been my bad, Toyota).

This experience should cement our friendship. Maybe now Tubba can stop hanging out with the Autistic kid who barks at everyone, even though Host says it's good for his eye contact.

Ok. See you round the water cooler, kids.

T-bone out.