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Jeff Probst Missed Connection

Jeff Probst

Future Jeff Probst excitedly pointing at the Emmys after casting Ryan Muldowney in an upcoming season of Survivor leads to monster ratings and critical acclaim.

I recently passed by Jeff Probst as he enjoyed lunch with a friend on Ventura Blvd.  Since I didn’t have the guts to say hello, I dealt with the situation the next best way:  By posting a missed connection on Craigslist.  Since ads only stay listed on the website for a week, I’ve posted it below for posterity.

As of now, Jeff Probst has not responded.

Jeff Probst – m4m – 30 (Ventura Blvd.)

This afternoon, on my lunch hour, I walked past Jeff Probst on Ventura Blvd. He was enjoying lunch with a friend. I was walking off a turkey club and onion rings.As someone who’s seen every episode of Survivor for the last 14 years and has dreamed of being on the show since the age of 16, it was an exciting event.I wanted to stop and talk to him. Tell him about my superfandom. That there’s a box at my mother’s house stuffed with dozens of VHS tapes filled with Survivor episodes (and the exit interviews from the CBS early show. Jane Clayson was hot back then, huh?). That my high school classmates chastised me for wearing a Survivor t-shirt to school. That I wrote Survivor fan fiction as a teenager. That this behavior was probably a major factor in me not dating until college.I wanted to tell him about how I’m a less awkward John Cochran with 6 more inches in height and 80 more pounds of weight, with wit like Tyson Apostal and the gamesmanship of Boston Rob.If only I stopped and said hi, perhaps he would have immediately realized that he had Survivor’s next star standing next to him. Or maybe he would’ve been weirded out and called the cops. Judgment call.

Since I have a high moral code, and rule #14 of said moral code is “Never disturb a man while he’s eating lunch,” I turned away and continued my walk back to the office, wondering what might’ve been if I had only stopped and said hi.

I hope you enjoyed your healthy lunch choice. Me? I’m regretting two things: our missed connection, and eating the onion rings. They were too greasy.


My Newest Fan

A big development in the land of Muldo this week.  One of my earliest celebrity crushes, Dominique Moceanu, is now following me on twitter little more than a year after I wrote this heartfelt article about her.

I’m honored and flattered as much as, if not more than the other 2,648 people she follows.  I proudly told my coworkers and friends about my newest fan and they reacted with varying degrees of interest. One quote from my friend Joel stood out.

“This is the most exciting thing to happen since David Hasselhoff started following me,” Joel said.


First Celebrity Sighting

A photo from the night I met my first celebrity. My nipples were hard with excitement.

Ask anyone who relocated to Los Angeles, and they’ll be able to tell you about their first celebrity encounter.  Mine happened my second week in town, and was one of the most exciting moments of my life up until that point.[1. Honorable mentions:  The time I won Penguins tickets from a TV sports talk show contest, sneaking downstairs to watch a few minutes of Showgirls while my mom was asleep, and scoring 31 of my teams 37 points in a game of 8th grade rec league basketball]

It was at a semi-intimate gathering with a lot of people I just met.  Across the room stood a familiar looking woman making small talk with the party’s hostess.  I recognized her as Nurse Olivia from “Grey’s Anatomy” (real name:  Sarah Utterback).  The character who famously gave George syphilis.  This was the time in America when men and women alike were watching the show (or at least that’s how I justify it to myself),  so it was tough to contain my giddiness.

I asked the hostess if this was, indeed, a celebrity drinking beer in the same room as us.

“Oh, Sarah?  Yeah, she was on that show.  We’re good friends.”

She took me over and introduced me.  Just like that, I was mingling with a known actress.  We made small talk for a few minutes and parted ways.  She was nice, but unfortunately there was no sexual chemistry.  I went around the rest of the night telling everyone who she was, but no one really cared.  To them, she was just another working actress.  To me, she was a star.

The next day, I told my mom and all my friends back home about my encounter.  They were more thrilled about it than I was, and that’s saying a lot.

After 5 years, you tend to forget about all the famous people you see, and if I met someone like that today, it wouldn’t phase me.  But at the time, she was a star in my presence, and the subject of a story I’ll never forget.

The Time I Met “Survivor” winner Parvati Shallow

With Parvati Shallow being a finalist for the “Heroes vs. Villains” season, it reminds me of the time we met in the Winter of 2009.

I was volunteering at a gifting suite in Century City, and she came on the scene.  We were introduced to each other by our mutual friend, Mikey.  After exchanging pleasantries, Mikey told her how close I was to being a finalist on the “Survivor” season Parvati won, “Fans vs. Favorites.” She asked who’s spot I likely would have taken.  I guessed Erik, the guy who made one of the dumbest moves in “Survivor” history by giving up immunity and promptly being voted out, in no small part to Parvati’s game play.

“You would have probably joined up with us and made it far,” she said.

“I would have made it farther than him, because I would have never fell for your crap,” I said.

We had a laugh over my comment and chatted for a minute more before parting ways.  She was very charming and pretty hot.

It’s disappointing that things didn’t go her way this season, since she was the best player.  My hat goes off to her.  All snarky comments aside, she likely would have kicked my ass in the game.

Savage Obsession

savageOn the list of weird things that have happened since I’ve moved to Los Angeles, Ben Savage’s obsession with me has to be near the top.

In late 2006, Mr. Savage and I crossed paths at a bar in Hollywood called The Well.  On that very same night, I stood a few feet away from another TV Legend, Scott Wolf.  The difference between Wolf and Mr. Savage is that, while I have never seen the former again, the latter has been entrenched in my life ever since.

Since that evening, I’ve seen Mr. Savage between approximately 5 and 47 times at various establishments in the Los Angeles area.  I’ve seen him at Big Wangs.  At El Guapo.  At The Beauty Bar.  At El Guapo again.  It’s a cycle that caught my attention and held my interest until things recently came to a head.

I was celebrating a friend’s birthday at a bar called Nikki’s in Venice Beach when Mr. Savage’s face  was caught in my peripheral vision.  Shocked, I tried to resume party going, but I had a feeling this night would be different from the others.  This was the night he’d come forth from the shadows and make contact.

Through some investigating, it was uncovered that he was there under the guise of having a mutual friend, who introduced us.  We both gave a polite hello even though bubbling under the surface was the truth that this was a moment years in the making.

Sometime later, I entered the rest room and was greeted by Mr. Savage who was, unsurprisingly, already relieving himself.  The only conclusion one could draw from this would be that in the years of our coincidental meetings, Mr. Savage had figured out my bladder relief cycle and timed it perfectly.

We were back to back as I “broke the seal.”  That’s always an unusually long urination for me, and finally, he spoke.

“Hey man,” Mr. Savage said.


“Clearing out the pipes, huh?”

“Yep.  Always a good thing to do during a night of drinking,” I said.

“It sure is.  It’s something you have to do.”

The conversation continued for a few more seconds, with us using different words to repeat the same thing:  It’s good to pee.

We parted ways and I didn’t see him for the rest of the night, nor have I seen him since.    Some might say that I’m looking too deeply into a few coincidences and that Ben Savage has better things to do in his spare time than follow an unemployed TV Producer around at dive bars, but I think not.

While I think stalking is too strong of a word to describe these events due to a lack of malicious intent, it’s safe to say there is a bond between us.  A bond that can only form when two men who don’t know each other share a conversation about pissing in a bathroom.

DUI’s Company

TV legend Joyce DeWitt (Three’s Company) was arrested for a DUI in El dewitt-duiSegundo, CA over the weekend in a turn of events that would, after adding a dozen double entendres, make for a terrific episode of the classic sitcom.

DeWitt pulled up in a black sports car, parked, and staggered toward a police officer standing in uniform next to his motorcycle.

She slurred, “Where the hell is East Oak Street?” a witness said.

An officer asked how much she had to drink and she said, “Just one.” She then reached into her car, pulled out a plastic container and began drinking from it.

It’s highly doubtful the plastic container had a virgin mojito from The Regal Beagle.

This was the perfect time to view DeWitt’s official website, which has two sections:  One boasting her fantastic biography, the other a place where fans can request an 8×10 with a personalized signature for the low price of $20 plus shipping and handling.  To clarify, you have to pay her the money, though I’m sure your first impression was like mine in thinking that she’d pay you as thanks for being one of the seven owners of her signature.

As an avid collector of TV memorabilia, my highlight being the Ian Ziering autograph I bought on ebay for $2.99, I decided to purchase this hot item while I still could.  Since you can as for her to write anything on the photo, this was a once in a lifetime chance to acquire a memento that my family will have for generations. 

Taking into her account her illustrious career, her impact on my life, and her less than feminine physique, I crafted the perfect personalization (click here for enlarged version.


“John Ritter blew me!”

From now until the end of time, Muldowney’s will cherish the only tangible evidence that DeWitt did in fact have a penis.

The Merkin – Revisited

The news of Kate Winslet’s merkin use made me remember an old desk skit from “Gettin’ Later,” originally written in 2002 by myself and Ben Mitchell.

And now, I bring you “The Merkin.”

Ben picks up a merkin.  It’s black and has long, flowing braids like a bad weave.

Hey, what’s this?

That’s my new merkin!  I’ve been looking all over for that.  I thought Doug stole it again.

Ben sniffs the object for a beat, intrigued.

What’s a merkin?

Ha, it’s a pubic wig!

Ben throws merkin down in anger.


It fills me out…down there.  Makes me look like more of a man.

Ryan tucks it into his pants, the braids flowing out.

It looks like Pocohontas set up a tee-pee in your nether region.

Well, that is the name of my merkin.

I didn’t need to know that.

I think you did.  Believe it or not, there are a lot of people who don’t know the benefits of a good, form-fitting merkin.

Why do you need more hair down there? Isn’t your ass a hair forest?

Yes, that’s why I need equilibrium.



(beat) Aren’t you aware that less is more? Real men keep it trim down there.

That’s debatable.  Don’t you read Cosmo?  The rugged look is IN.

But a trimmed region also makes junk look bigger.  You don’t want to look like Sinbad, do you?


The COMEDIAN, not the pirate. (beat) This is just wrong.

Don’t knock it till you try it.

Ben pauses to think.

You’ve got me curious now.  Can I at least try it on?

Ben swipes for the merkin.  Ryan dodges.

No way!  That’s sick!

Just for a minute?

NO!  You can buy your own.  Just don’t get the same one as me.  I don’t want you crampin’ my style.

What if I don’t like it?

Ryan pulls a catalogue from under his chair.

We’ll take care of that.

Wow!  They have a “Christopher Walken?”

My favorite is “John Stamos – The Early Years.”

Wait a minute.  What are we doing?  This is ridiculous.


I know what’s going on here.  I know why you have a merkin all of a sudden.  You still feel… inadequate, don’t you?

Who doesn’t?  How can I compete with guys like Brad Pitt?

Ben pats Ryan on the back, also wiping off his hands from his encounter with the merkin.

There, there.  It’s not your fault all your hairs were burned off by Agent Orange in ‘Nam.

Damn it, Ben!

Oh, was that a secret?

Ryan puts his head in his hands.


Oops.  We’ll be right back!

Charlie Bastards!