A pretty big medical milestone happened last week.  The first-ever face transplant in the U.S. took place in December 2008, and on May 5th, she showed the results to the public for the first time.

Why would one require a face transplant?  It's a pretty serious case.  In September  2004, Connie Culp was leaving a bar in Ohio when her husband, Thomas Culp, appeared and proceeded to shoot her in the face.  With a shotgun.  From 8 feet away.  He then turned the gun on himself.

Miraculously, Connie survived.  According to ER reports, all that was left of her face was eyelids, forehead, and chin.

I can't imagine what a shitty day that must have been to work at the ER.  "Dude, I'm so hungover from that party last night man.  If I have to do anything that needs more than 10 stitches I'm going to flip.  Oh, somebody just got brought in; let me check them out."  And then he sees someone with no face.  NO FACE!  What do you do with that?

That's a lot of missing face.  Just in case you can't picture it, here's a normal picture of me.

And here's one with that much of my face removed.

That's a lot of missing fucking face.  What the fuck is a doctor supposed to do?  This doctor did his best and was able to keep Connie alive.  For years she lived in tremendous pain, and was unable to eat or drink or even breathe on her own.  I personally have never understood why people continue to live after something like that.  It's not a life!  If you cannot function at all are you are doing is wasting someone's money and stealing away care from somebody who might have a chance.  What did Connie Culp do for those years?  She just sat around in constant pain and waited for her next treatment.  Woohoo!  People get so weird about this "sanctity of life" thing and it doesn't make any sense to me.  Just die!  It's the natural progression of things!

Connie Culp, however, chose to live, and spent the next several years of life looking like this.  Brace yourself, this is pretty harsh.

In December 2008, the last resort of a full face transplant was suggested.  The surgery lasted 22 hours.  Here's an x-ray of what Connie's skull looked like pre-surgery.

And this past Tuesday, she was unveiled.  I, for one, was excited to see the results.   Here are some of the faces I'm used to and am a fan of.  Faces that I would think a doctor would recognize as good complete faces.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to a normal life, the new and improved CONNIE CULP!!!

Umm....huh?

What uh.......what happened?  Is this a mean joke or something?  Does she take this off and then reveal her regular looking face?

Hmmm...she looks like a cross between Birdie the Early Bird and the artwork from The Wall.

I mean, I guess technically it is a face.  It's got all the components of facedom.  How much did the doctors get paid for this?  If Lydia asked me to take out the garbage, and I opened the front door and threw it outside, then technically I have taken out the garbage without really doing it.  Is this the same thing?  Did the doctor call in that day or something?

Dr. Maria Siemionow led the transplant operation, and she also spoke at the press conference.  Unfortunately, her public speaking ability is on the same level as her face-transplanting ability.  She made several comments that were beyond ridiculous.  For starters,  she informed the press in attendance that the surgery was done to improve Connie's quality of life and that it wasn't done for cosmetics.  Thank you for informing us of the obvious, Dr. Maria Siemionow.  Just to let you know, when I urinate, I'm doing so to relieve waste and not just so I can look at my penis.

Dr. Maria also let us know that now that she had a mouth, Connie "eats hamburgers and enjoys her pizzas."  Fucking middle America, man.  "Now that I'm done got my face healthy, I'm gonna eat me some shit and fuck my stomach up!"  I'm glad our medical technology has advanced to the point where a shotgun blast can't prevent someone from eating garbage.

Dr. Maria said that Connie's face allows her to "blend in with society."  What society is Dr. Maria around?  Sid and Marty Kroft's?

The donor family was thanked at the press conference, but was not mentioned.  I assume they would have a closed-casket funeral for a face donor.  I can understand why they didn't, but I wish they would have had a picture of the donor so you could compare faces.  It took me a few hours, but after massive internet research, I was actually able to find a picture of the donor.  The resemblance is amazing.

My mom told me I shouldn't write this blog.  She said Connie Culp had been through a lot and I should have sympathy for her.  And she's right....almost.

At the beginning of this blog, I mentioned that after shooting Connie, Thomas Culp turned the gun on himself and fired.  Well, this guy must be the worst shot in Ohio, because he lived as well.  He was sentenced in 2005 to 7 years in prison.  Connie Culp was at the trial and, after asking the judge if she could have a few minutes alone with Thomas, proceeded to say that she forgave him and would be waiting for him when he got out of prison.  When asked about waiting for him,  Connie reiterated the statement and then said that Thomas "better put her on a pedestal once he's released from prison."  Please remember that he is in jail for SHOOTING HER IN THE FUCKING FACE WITH A FUCKING SHOTGUN!!!!    This whole "no face years of suffering" gimmick could have been avoided if not for the shitty actions of this one guy!  She could have been eating all the pizza she wanted!  And she just wants to be put on a pedestal?!?  That's where I lose sympathy.  What a dumb trashy bitch, face or no face.  I hope the second he gets out of jail and sees Connie he shoots her again.  I hope he shoots her twice!  And this time, there'll be no public sympathy, because she willingly put herself back into that situation.  At the face transplant conference, Connie would only say that she had been shot.  She refused to go into detail or answer questions about it, because she knew if she mentioned how much she loved her face-shooting husband, then nobody would give two shits about her situation.

Connie Culp is now an advocate for disfigured people.  She is an a position to be a role model.  How is anyone going to be helped by someone who is willing to put herself in such a stupid position to be disfigured again, all in the hopes of some guy being nice to her?

And I hope Thomas Culp is sweet to Connie.  I hope the second he leaves prison he shows up at her doorstep with chocolates and roses.    And then I hope that right after he gives her that fistful of flowers, he gives her a face full of bullets.

Or maybe he just gets Super Mario to jump on her head.

So last June I got married to my long-time girlfriend.

And now, whenever I see someone that I haven't seen since before that, or someone who I rarely see, the first question I get asked is "Well, gosh golly gee, Nick; how's that married life going?"  You may not phrase it that way, but that's how it comes off.  You sound like someone who would vote for Sarah Palin because you thought she was the best for the job.

Well, to answer your stupid inbred question, married life is pretty good.  It's like dating life in most ways, but there's a few differences.  Now if I'm flirting with some strange girl, not only is it creepy because I'm kind of crazy; it's creepy because I'm crazy and wearing a wedding ring.  Also, it means I get to have married sex now, which is fantastic.  After we first got married Lydia couldn't keep her hands off of me.  I think we christened every room in the apartment a few times.

(I was going to post an actual picture, but Lydia put the veto on it.  Something about her job and school violations.  Stupid teachers' union policies...)

But the honeymoon can't last forever.  Reality has to set in at some point.  While Lydia may have been moist with anticipation when she thought that most of the time I looked like this

she soon realized that I actually spend most of my time looking like this

which means that now when I get off work Lydia usually looks like this.

You know, I can't blame her, either.  If I had to look at someone covered in hair and dirt and sometimes vomit all the time, I wouldn't want to suck my smelly old disgusting dick either.  But where does that leave me at?  To be honest, it makes your mind, and your eyes, both start to wander.   They don't wander
to anyone here in town, because I'm way above the league of most pussy in
Mobile, Alabama.  But I will fantasize about some unattainable celebrity I can jerk off to in the shower.  Who am I jerking off to now?  It's time for...

5. Megan Hauserman, better known as Megan from Rock of Love and I Love Money

This is possibly the best thing to ever happen to reality TV.  The great thing about Megan is that she realizes what her assets are, so at all points in the show she is wearing the smallest amount of clothes possible. 

Why wouldn't you like a Playboy model who is undressed most of the time as she competes for money?  She's such a bitch on her shows as well.  I'm not usually into the bitchy girl thing at all, but for some reason Megan does it well.  Maybe it's because she's my height and so I'm a little intimidated by her.  Nothing better than jerking off while you're a little scared, right?

4. Amy Adams

I had no idea who Amy Adams was until a couple of months ago when she was on Conan O'Brien.  I fell in like immediately.  She's actually very funny and kind of geeky, which is always great. She was promoting the film "Doubt," which I had planned on seeing anyways because I'm a huge mark for PSH.
She even makes a cute nun! 

I would go to church every week if I knew someone that cute would be there rocking out a habit.  Since then I've seen Amy Adams everywhere.  I even
watched "Enchanted" the other day because she was in it.  It turns out she's in a lot of movies I like as well.  And she also wears purple alot, which I find very attractive.  Watch out, Nate Crown.

LAST SECOND ENTRY!!!!!

So I was watching Encore Discovery last night and "Coyote Ugly" came on. 
I had a HUGE thing for Piper Perabo back in 2000.  If I could build a time machine and go back a decade ago, I would gladly let Piper Perabo have sex with me.

I'm not sure what that picture is supposed to be of.  Why would a clock have her name on it?  Maybe it's time ticking away on her career.  That picture must be from a decade ago as well, because time's up, bitch.

3.  Nina!

Nina isn't famous I suppose, but it's my list so fuck you.  Nina has been Lydia's friend since childhood.

Nina wasactually there with Lydia at the mall the night I first asked Lydia out.  If Lydia had said no, I probably would have just asked Nina right after that.  Nina
has this weird reverse-aging syndrome where she has actually gotten more attractive as she gets older, which is a huge plus.  Unfortunately, Nina has a few negatives as well.  She's a die-hard liberal.  She's a strict vegetarian.  She's a huge Madonna fan.  For most people, that would be three strikes against them.  But I'd be willing to make an exception in Nina's case, because I think all of those problems are nothing that a good deep dicking couldn't fix.

Also, Nina was the matron of honor at our wedding, and it's actually Iranian tradition that the groom gets a shot with the matron of honor.  It's true, look it
up.  Usually it's supposed to be family members in the bridal party first, but Lydia hates it when I make those jokes.

2.  Kari Byron

Yup, the girl from "Mythbusters."  I think she's on everyone's list, isn't she?  A friend of my buddy Carson's met her a few years ago and described her as "the
future of masturbation."  Apparently she can construct just about anything.  I saw an episode a few days ago where she was building a spring-rigged casket!

You wanna know what I'd like to see her make?  Me a sandwich.  That would be really hot.

1.  Kate Winslet

For years I wasn't into Kate.  I just never found her attractive.  Not even in Titanic. 

I know you're thinking "Man, she shows her boobs in that one though!"  Well, don't be an asshole!  There's more to it than that!  You can't just go around objectifying women whenever you please, dick!

So like I was saying, for years I had no desire to plug any of Winslet's holes.  And then "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" came out.How could you not fall in love with Kate Winslet in this movie?  Especially the blue hair? 

I hate when girls have their hair dyed and wear it in some stupid outdated punk style, but I'm all for dyed hair that sits naturally.  Especially blue.  I found her attractive throughout the movie, regardless of what color hair she had.

And now she's just ridiculous.  She's actually improved tenfold since having
kids.

Did you see her shoot in Vanity Fair?  Good Lord.  The theme of it was that she was a high-class prostitute.  Works for me.

We actually got a digital copy of "The Reader" at the shitty theater I work at.  With actual 35mm film, you can't pause or rewind.  One of the many beauties of digital projection is that a movie can be paused or skipped just like a DVD.  Let's
just say that "The Reader" spent a lot of time being paused.

So that's my top 5 for now.  I change my mind every few seconds, so next week it will probably be Isla Fisher and Marianne Faithfull.  I'll be sure to let you know.

This one's not really safe for work. 

So a lot of people were pretty upset about this writer's strike that occurred throughout the fall. 

Whether it was "Desperate Housewives" or "The Closer" or whatever network show you prefer, all were put on halt during what is usually the most productive season of the year for TV shows.  Lydia was crushed because the shitty "Office" was one of the shows that stopped producing new episodes. 

I, however, could not have been more thrilled, as no new scripted shows only meant more…REALITY TELEVISION!!!!!!  I love shitty garbage reality TV.  Not trash like "American Idol" or "Dancing with the Stars," but I love the ridiculous concept ones like "My Dad is Better than Your Dad."  Reality shows that should make our society ashamed of itself, that's my cup of tea.  And my absolute favorite of those is easily CBS' Big Brother. 

I fucking love this show!  Never heard of it?  16 people live in house for 3 months, voting each other off every week until one person is left.  They can't leave the house, and cameras watch them every minute of the day.  Not only do I love it because of the idea of people winning money just for living in a house, but I also enjoy it because of the absolute unpopularity of it.  It's been on 9 seasons, and yet I know almost no one who actually watches it.  My pal Nina is one of the few who is into it just as much as I am. 

I'm actually moving into Nina's apartment complex in a month; I'm hoping that maybe we can set up some Big Brother viewing parties when I'm not busy peeping on her.

Anyways, Big Brother only comes on in the summer, but due to the lack of scripted network shows, CBS started a new season a couple of weeks ago.  Since cameras are watching the contestants 24/7, CBS actually offers a live feed you can subscribe to where you can watch the house live whenever you want.  I've always been interested, but never subscribed.  More recently, CBS has partnered with Showtime to offer "Big Brother: After Dark."  Every night on Showtime 2, from 11 P.M-2 A.M, live feeds air from the Big Brother house.  I watch this religiously every night.  If I'm not home, I record it.  Why, you ask?  It's live.  I watch it for the same reason any guy watches any live televised event, whether it's the Superbowl or the Today Show or the president's funeral. 

One reason: what if a titty comes out?  That's right!  This shit is live, no censors!  What happens if someone's boob happens to pop out of their shirt?  I don't want to be the one guy who fucking misses a bare titty on live TV!  So for the past 2 seasons of Big Brother, I watch this fucking 3-hour program every night.  And for nothing.  I might see a g-string occasionally, but for the most part it's been people talking or sleeping or brushing their fucking stupid teeth.  I've gotten pretty discouraged, but I still watch, because what if?  What if I don't watch one night and that's the night there's a 3-hour handbra contest?  I can't take that risk!

So Sunday night I turn on Showtime, getting ready to be bored out of mind for 3 hours.  And what's the first thing I see on there?  2 of the female houseguests, topless, giving the other houseguests lapdances. 

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!  Finally, patience pays off for something!!!  This shit was happening in real-time, and I was watching it LIVE!  I kept waiting for it to end quickly, or for Showtime to go to another commercial for the fucking "Tudors," but it didn't!  It only got more extreme!  Whipped cream was licked off of nipples, girls were making out with girls-it was crazy! 

The two slutty girls then suggested everyone go out to the swimming pool.  AWESOME!!!  Every guy in the house followed them out, of course.  After the two girls jumped in, a cavalcade of guys started jumping into the pool in their boxers.  Not as cool, but hey, there's still two naked girls on live TV!  Fuck yeah!

Then it became contestant James Zinkand's turn to jump into the pool.  I had the sound muted (because who wants to listen to a reality show when people are naked), and so I don't know if he was dared or what, but somehow James got the idea to take off all of his clothes before he jumped in the pool.  I guess it's only fair that if Showtime is going to show titties, they might as well give the ladies at home an obligatory dick shot.  So they cut to James, fully nude, and my jaw dropped.  "God DAMN!" I exclaimed out loud.

This guy James hasn't really stood out this season.  With his tattoos, scrawny frame, and stupid red Mohawk, he looks like your normal Hot Topic customer,

and someone who would not fare well in any type of game show.  I can't even really recall anything this guy has done this season, that's how little he stands out.  But not anymore.  James Zinkand has the biggest penis I have ever seen in my entire life.  Ever.  I'm not counting porn stars here, because they are supposed to be well-endowed.  But as far as regular nothing-happening guys go, James Zinkand takes the cake.  When the camera cut to him, I was in shock.  I even felt intimidated.  When the phrase "one-eyed monster" was coined, someone must have been thinking of this guy's fucking dick.  It was huge!  I'm surprised he didn't splash all of the water out of the pool when he jumped in.  And I just sat there in awe, shocked at the big cock I had just seen on my television screen.  I imagine I had the same look on my face as did the first people to test the A-Bomb. 

When I shaved my body last year, I put up a naked picture of myself with a bald eagle over my crotch.

It's majestic, I know, but size-wise, it's nothing to phone Grandma about.  A damn flock of eagles would not block out this James guy's fucking penis.   I don't know what bit of Americana to use to censor his crotch.

I don't even know why he's on a game show, because he's already fucking won.  If life has a lottery, James Zinkand is definitely the grand prize winner.  He definitely beats out Kristen's boyfriend, who was my previous designee for the "Life's Lotto Winner" title. 

James has probably never had sex in his life, because if I was terrified of just looking at his dick, I can't imagine how horrible the idea of having it inserted into me must be.  I imagine the Zinkand penis would part a girl in half like she was the Red Sea.

I did some research online, and it turns out that James has done a bit of amateur porn here and there.  Gay porn. 

Hmm.  I would make a joke about it, but all he would have to do to retort is mention that his penis is still the size of my arm, and he wins.

No joke, this guy has a pretty good-sized johnson on him. Kudos to the Zinkand family. Here's some links if you really would rather look at pictures of dicks instead of my poorly photoshopped censorings of them

NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!!

So I've been getting asked a lot lately about my left hand.  If you've seen me recently I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.  The big smelly splint that's been on my left hand for the past month.

I made mention of it in the mustache winner blog a month ago, but said that I wasn't going to tell the story as it was too ridiculous to really convey on Myspace.  However, after being asked "What's wrong with your hand?" about 4000 times, I've decided that I'll go ahead and post the story anyways.  I usually have no problem posting anything on Myspace, as I have little to no shame, but I felt kind of silly about this story.  It's just so ridiculous and I don't really like talking about it.  But here goes:

I was the OK Bike Shop, which is my favorite downtown Mobile drinking location (located at 661 Dauphin Street in scenic downtown Mobile.  Now serving authentic Mexican dishes until midnight!). 

I'm a regular there, and have never really had any problems with anyone.  Thursday, December 20, was a different case though.  There had been this Abercrombie & Fitch-looking asshole,

completely trashed, who had been randomly harassing people throughout the bar.  He finally came and sat next to me.  The only thing that smelled stronger than his Bod Man spray was the Jaegermeister soaking out of his pores.  I had on a wrestling shirt as usual, and fucking Chip or Taylor or Graham or whatever his obnoxiously white name was took notice of it.  "Hey, asshole, you know that shit is fake right?  It's for pussies and faggots!"  I told him I was aware of that, and it was cool, as I happened to be both a pussy and a faggot.  This didn't dissuade him.  "I been training in MMA for 5 years, and I could beat the shit out of any fake faggot pussy!"  "Well, that's cool, man" I replied.  "What school have you been training out of?"  He stared at me for a minute, and then got up from his seat and walked away.  I looked back to the bar, when I suddenly felt my right arm get twisted behind my back and pulled as hard as it could.  Graham put his head on my right shoulder, and screamed into my right ear "What are you going to do, fake motherfucker!!!"  My mind raced as I pondered what indeed to do.  His face was on my shoulder and wasn't being protected, so I immediately took my left thumb and jammed it into his eye as hard as I could.  The only sound louder than the squish of his eyeball was the pop that the bones in my hand made upon contact.  We both wailed in agony as Graham fell back to the floor.  Unfortunately, he didn't let go of my right arm, so I continued to pound away at him with my damaged left hand until unconsciousness finally caused him to relinquish his grip.

Pretty crazy, huh?  That story is actually made up.  What really happened was that I got home one Thursday afternoon, and when I walked in the living room was dark.  I realized the light bulb was burnt out.  Lights are always burned out at my house, and my mom never buys new ones, because I guess she would rather replicate the feel of an opium den than a fucking living room. 

Even though I had to go to work in 30 minutes, the idea of just sitting there with no light bulb drove me nuts.  It makes me want to bash my head in with a fucking crowbar; I just cannot stand it.  My father didn't assassinate the Treasurer of Iran

and crawl through 1000 yards of sand tunnels so I could sit in the fucking dark on a Thursday afternoon.  My sister just moved out recently, and of course, there was still a light bulb in her room, because nothing makes more sense than leaving a perfectly good light bulb in a fucking empty room.

Even though my sister had moved out, some of her stuff was still in there, including a shelf I used to have in my room.  It was one of those cheap $10 self-assemble ones you get from Wal-Mart. 

It actually happened to be positioned right under the light fixture.  I was amazed at the convenience of this, as I wouldn't even have to move shit to get this light bulb out.  Whether it was from doing wrestling moves off of it or just randomly standing on it, I had climbed all over this shelf a million times while it was in my room; even though it had been a few years since I had climbed on it; what would one more time matter?

Apparently I'm fatter than I used to be a few years ago,

because when I stood on the shelf it broke immediately.  Like speed-of-sound immediately.  Unlike when I broke my face a few years back,

this time I had the foresight to put a hand out to break my fall.  I subconsciously decided the best way to do this would be to land completely on my left thumb.  As soon as I hit the ground pain shot through my hand, and as I usually do when I seriously injure myself, I started laughing as hard as I can possibly could.  I went to grab my hand and put pressure on it, and I then realized my left thumb was completely out-of-socket.  I laughed harder and then proceeded to pop it right back into place (unfortunately without taking any pictures.)  I decided that since no more bones were out of the sockets, I would go to work.  Why not?  Due to the severe injury to my left hand, I was completely unable to button my clothes and needed help dressing myself.  My brother got that task.

KRIS (while buttoning my pants): This sucks.

NICK: Just be glad it was my left hand and not my right.  I've got to take a shit too.

At the advising of Lydia's dad, I went to (where else) Wal-Mart and got a thumb stabilizer.  

I wore that for the next couple of days and generally felt pretty shitty, until Lydia talked me into going to the emergency room.

As I was checked in, a wave of excitement rushed over me as I looked at the information on my bracelet.  My doctor was Dr. McMahon.  I turned and pointed this out to Lydia, who, as usual,  completely ignored me and continued to read "Gravity's Rainbow."  I smiled to myself, imagining the WWE chairman strutting into the room and barking out medical orders.

Unfortunately, it wasn't Vince I got.  I got James McMahon, who, although still old and a mick, did not own any wrestling organizations.  James chided me for not coming in to the E.R. immediately, and after X-rays, informed me that I had managed to tear every single ligament in and around my thumb, and I had also put a slight hairline fracture at the top of my wrist.  He marveled over my thumb splint, and said he was shocked that something that good could be sold at Wal-Mart.  He said the splint would be the "perfect tool" to fix my hand (so why did I need to go to the E.R.?), and there was nothing else he could do but give me a prescription.  He gave me 2 prescriptions: 1 for an anti-inflammatory, and 1 for some Darvocet painkillers (of which I did not take one, because I'm a hard-assed motherfucker.)  I didn't even fill the prescription; I threw it right in the garbage (Sorry, Jerry).  He also recommended me to an orthopedic specialist, but that part of the story is pretty fucking boring.

That's about it really.  The bad thing about torn ligaments in your non-dominant hand is that it's not bad enough to get you any sympathy; it's just a really big inconvenience.  Whether it's eating chicken wings or turning a key or grabbing two boobs at once, doing anything with it's been kind of shitty.  It's gotten better, but I've come to realize that it will never even slightly be the same.

Unfortunately I don't have a good line or joke to end this.  My body is slowly withering away and failing on me.  I'm about two years away from a wheelchair and a feeding tube.  Shitty.

The 2008 presidential election race is finally here!  We're 24 hours away from the first primary, taking place in Iowa, and I could not be more thrilled.  I fucking love the race for president.  I'm exceptionally thrilled this year, as Rudolph Giuliani is campaigning for the Republican nomination.  I've been a Giuliani fan since 1996.  I didn't actually follow politics at the time; I just thought he was very charismatic.  I liked him even more when I actually started to follow politics and realized I agreed with most of his ideals politically.  When Rudy announced his intentions of running in 08, I knew he had to be a lock for president.  With his humor and charisma, not to mention his spectacular handling of 9/11 (he was called America's Mayor, and was knighted by Queen Elizabeth, for his strength in a time of such crisis),

I knew that people wouldn't be able to resist voting for this lovable Italian.  I anxiously awaited seeing Rudy's first political ad, as I was sure it would win over anyone watching.

My friend Carson, who had no intention of voting for Rudolph Giuliani, called me after he saw Rudy's first ad on the Youtube debates.  After telling me he watched it, I immediately asked, "So, you've changed your vote, huh?  Hopping on the Rudy train, right?"  Carson's response surprised me.  "No, I don't think so, Nick.  His ad was actually pretty shitty.  I would say it was probably the worst one they showed."  I laughed to myself, as I couldn't believe that Carson's liberal bias would cause him to lie to himself that much.  As soon as I got home, I got online and looked up my boy Rudy's new ads.

Hmmm…that one wasn't too great.  Maybe even a little forced.  That's okay. First-time jitters, I'm sure.  Now that the first one was out of the way, I'm sure the rest would be home runs. I went to his website and looked up the rest of his videos.

FUCK!  What the hell happened?  Like, isn't he paying millions of dollars to someone to write this shit?  Why is this so bad?  Why is he coming off so forced and not funny?  He's a funny motherfucker, believe you me.  Look at this video from when he hosted Saturday Night Live.  And yeah, that's right, hosted.  No cameo, no one-second skit, this fucking guy had the whole damn show written around him.

HAHHAHAHAAHHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!  Hilarious, man!  So why is this shit so bad?

The Rudy train has been kind of derailed lately, and as of my last check, he's not even leading the Republican polls for the primaries in Iowa or New Hampshire.  I think these commercials are to blame.  And I think if this trend of shitty commercials continues, Rudolph Giuliani will not be the 44^th president of the United States.  And there's only one thing left to do to change that.

I am going to start writing commercials for Rudolph Giuliani.

You read that right.  I usually don't like to volunteer for politics too much; usually the only volunteering I do is showing up at the victory parties and consuming as much food as I can.  But I think desperate measures have to be taken here.  And I know how to make people laugh, and I know what traits Rudolph Giuliani needs to focus on, because it's those same traits that attracted me to him so much, and those will be the qualities that will win the American public over.

I plan on submitting my scripts for these commercials to Rudy's official site, and I'm hoping that maybe by posting them on Myspace as well, they'll garner enough attention where Rudy's handlers have to take notice and get me to save the campaign.

So here's the script for my first commercial, complete with images.

RUDY AD 1: WHERE WERE YOU?

NARRATOR:  In the 2004 fantasy film "Fahrenheit 9/11,"

a major question is poised.  What was President George W. Bush doing when the World Trade Center was attacked by terrorists?

He was making an appearance at an elementary school, reading a book to a child.  Even after being informed of the attack, he remained at the school and continued to read for several more minutes.  This raises an interesting question: how can someone lead us against the terrorist threat if they can't even bring themselves to stop their own personal activity in the midst of an attack?  People railed President Bush for this, and maybe with good reason.

But now George W. Bush is leaving office, and the Islamic extremist threat is still as great as ever.  So shouldn't we hold our Presidential candidates up to the same microscope that we held our current one?  How important did these other candidates think the 9/11 attacks were as they happened?  We'll show you.

8:48 A.M:  Joe Biden, Mike Gravel, Dennis Kucinich, and John McCain were having their weekly "Loser's Brunch" at a local Washington D.C. Waffle House.

8:48 A.M.:  Bill Richardson was attempting to smile big enough to tear his facial muscles.

8:53 A.M:  John Edwards was taking in a mud bath, just as he does on every Tuesday, or 11^th, or if it's a cloudy day outside.

9:00 A.M.:  Mitt Romney was engaging in the usual morning rites of passage for all practicing Mormons.

9:04 A.M:  Barack Obama was sitting at his house, doing nothing.  He was only in the Illinois state Senate at this time, and actually had nothing of importance to be doing at this time.  Senator Obama would like you to know that, regardless of what he was doing, he was against whatever anyone else was doing, and he has always felt that way.

9:12 A.M.: Ron Paul was planning his escape.

9:15 A.M.:  Fred Thompson was participating in the worst photo-op of his career.

9:22 A.M.:  Mike Huckabee was diligently doing Internet research on issues important to him.

9:34 A.M:  Hillary Rodham Clinton was getting her bimonthly update at the lab.

Only one candidate was there in the midst of the attack.  Only one candidate stopped what he was doing, and shared first-hand in the pain and suffering of the American people in the midst of this attack.  Only one man:

NEW YORK MAYOR RUDOLPH GIULIANI!

He breathed in the ash, he felt the heat of the fire, and he pulled those on the brink of death back into life.  From a few minutes after the attack, until late in the afternoon,

Rudolph Giuliani was there, side-by-side with the everyman, American citizens like you and me.  And it's experience like that, which lets us know we can put our faith in Rudolph Giuliani.  He's seen first hand the tragedy that a terrorist attack can bring, and he knows why he must make sure it can never happen again.  That's why, whether it's the people he rescued to the firemen he stood next to, they only have one choice for President of these United States.

The preceding ad was provided for by the Nick Shantazio for Rudy 08 committee.

So a couple of weeks ago was the big "Mustache Before Christmas" contest I had promoted.  I tried to get everyone I know to have a mustache December 14-16.  Unfortunately, the weekend ended up being kind of a bust.  It poured rain 15 minutes before the Christmas parade I was supposed to be in, enough so where I thought for sure it would be cancelled.  It wasn't, and I missed the parade.  I had been pretty excited about parading my mustache through downtown Mobile, and was pretty bummed when I found out I had missed my chance.  And that's how the majority of the week went.  I had a mustache for one week.  The third day in, I developed a really bad fever that actually reached 102 degrees at one point, and kept me awake with really weird fever dreams of me doing shit that I actually would have to do later that day.  The day I started to get over my fever, I tore all the ligaments in my left hand in a fashion almost too ridiculous to really convey in a story on Myspace.  It's almost as if God were trying to teach me some sort of lesson, for bitching so much about the celebration of Christmas and holding this stupid mustache thing the week before the holiest of days. 

If that's the case, well, don't worry God, your day is coming, I can promise you that.

But anyways, with all that going on, I kind of forgot to post the winner of the big mustache contest.  The results completely surprised me.  I legitimately had at least 40 people tell me they were going to participate in the contest.  People from all over the country emailed me, friends said they were getting everyone at their job to participate; I was legitimately shocked by how many people told me they were participating.  In the 2 weeks since the contest, I have had at least 25 people ask me who won the contest.

So with all this interest invested, do you care to guess how many people had a fucking mustache that weekend?  Take a stab at it.

5 people.  1 fucking hand. 

That's counting me.  5 fucking people had a fucking mustache.

So let's see how that affected the contest.  Like I said, I had disqualified myself, so I wasn't even in the running.  My buddy Carson had a sweet handlebar mustache, but didn't enter in the contest.  I unfortunately didn't get a picture of his, but he's still got it, if you want to check him out at the Bike Shop downtown.  He apparently grows one every year at this time.

So we're down to 3 people with mustaches.

My friend Kevin Martin was one of the main people interested in the contest.  I had gotten a few messages from him talking about the contest; specifically referring to how little growth he was experiencing with his mustache.  I told him it would be fine, but Kevin I guess felt otherwise, as evident by the email I received on the last day of the contest.  I hope Kevin doesn't mind me reprinting this.

Hey Nick,

 I hate to say it, but I'm resigning from this mustache contest.  However, I will continue to nurture my budding 'stache into rugged manliness.  I had some big plans for my entry, but they fell through.  Yeah, I know, I'm a pussy.

Thank you for your understanding,

--Kevin Martin

So with Kevin out, we are now down to two mustaches.

My friend Art was actually the first to send me a mustache picture. 

He looked like he was about to appear on "To Catch a Predator." 

It was pretty good, but unfortunately the picture was taken in his bathroom and not out in public.  Art plays music in New York, and actually had two shows that weekend that he assures me he had the mustache for.  Unfortunately, I've yet to see pictures of this, so Art didn't qualify for the contest.

That brings us down to 1 man.  1 mustache.

I don't know how I can describe the courage of the winner of this contest.  He had never grown a mustache before, not even with a goatee, and has trouble growing facial hair as it is.  His effort creeped out his wife, and made most of his friends laugh at him.  But he continued on.  It's no surprise that he displayed such dauntless behavior.  This man served the United States Marine Corps in Iraq, and engaged literally in hand-to-hand combat with Al-Qaeda itself. 

Ok, maybe not literally, but it's closer than I've ever gotten, unless arguing with my dad about appropriate tipping amounts at Golden Corral counts for anything.

The winner of this contest didn't have access to a digital camera I guess (how do you not have access to a digital camera?), and so he actually called me up that Saturday night and insisted I bring my camera downtown so he could enter in this contest.

And now he's won it all: the Fire Mountain giftcard, the condoms, the Bod Man spray, the whole deal.

It just goes to show you didn't have to have the biggest mustache to win this contest; all you needed was the biggest heart.

I'll stop with the build-up.  The winner is…DRUMROLL PLEASE!

The time is here.

Tomorrow, December 14, 2007, the mustache contest starts.  I've had about 40 people tell me they were participating, so hopefully this weekend a slew of mustaches will be let loose throughout the Gulf Coast, and maybe even nationwide.

I just ask that everyone growing one be extremely careful, especially if you've never had just a mustache before.  You're going to be packing about 300% more testosterone, and not everyone can handle that much.  Last June Chris Benoit decided he was going to take his family to Disneyland.  He wanted to really surprise them, so he decided he would shave off his beard into a mustache before telling them the big news.  But the mustache was too strong for him, and the only trip they ended up making was to the Fulton County Morgue.

To anyone participating in the contest, let me make a clarification.  To enter, all you need to do is send a picture of you and your mustache to christmasmustache@hotmail.com .  But this picture needs to be good.  If it's a picture of you in your bathroom, that shit is not going to cut it!  I need to see you taking this mustache out in public.  The more public a place it is, the better.  Feel free to be creative too, as I am the judge and it's possible I'll be easily swayed by a good picture.  For example, here's a picture of some asshole right after he shaved his beard into a mustache.

Still in his bathroom, probably shaved it off right after he took the picture.  Fucking pussy.

You want to see a winner of a mustache?  My friend Celia's dad, the late, great Dale McIntyre, used to grow a hoss of a mustache back in the day.  Check out this picture of him Celia sent me.

HA!  Pretty fucking good, right?  That's what you should strive for in your pictures.  If it's a picture of you with a mustache and a buddy at McDonald's, that's pretty good.  But if your picture is you and your mustache in a seersucker suit at a Playboy party, then you're probably going to win the contest.

There will be a couple of events going on this weekend if you want to come out and celebrate your mustachiness.  I've somehow managed to finagle my way into the Mobile Christmas parade this Saturday at 1:30.  It'll be downtown, and my mustache will be on full display.  Come look for me; I'll be in the Regions Bank section and I'll be the most Christmassy motherfucker in the whole parade.  Later that night I'll be mustaching it up at the Bike Shop downtown.  My buddy Carson who bartends there is also going to be sporting a mustache, so come join us in the fun.

I'm going to announce the winner Tuesday morning, so make sure you get those pictures in!