On Seeing Naked Pictures Of My Friend's Wife

A lot of times in life, you don't expect one of your friends to send you naked pictures of his wife and then one day it happens and you are forced to answer some tough questions for yourself. At least that's how it happened with me anyway.

A couple days of ago, I was spending a little time "surfing the net" when I checked my e-mail inbox to discover a nice, though somewhat profanity-laced note from a friend I hadn't heard from in a while. I can't remember exactly what he wrote, but I was happy to hear from him, so happy in fact that I even wrote back to ask him what he had been up to/how things were going on his end, etc.

A few minutes later I received his response to the e-mail I had sent him in response to the e-mail that he had sent to me. In this e-mail, he mentioned "getting involved in porn" or something along those lines. Since making mention of porn is a quick go-to joke for a lot guys (though not me. I'm above it) when corresponding with a lot of other guys, I assumed he was making a hilarious joke. To keep the hilarious joke going, I responded in a subsequent e-mail with something along the lines of "good luck with the porn" or something equally laugh-out-loud funny.

Shortly thereafter, I received another e-mail from him in which he said he was only half-kidding about that whole "getting involved in porn" thing from his previous e-mail. Apparently my friend had taken up photography in earnest with an emphasis on taking photos of wife, specifically what some might call "tasteful nudes," which in turn are often referred to by others as "erotica" (which in turn is often referred to by still others as "porn").

Tasteful nudes, erotica, and/or porn aside, I was still pretty sure my friend was joking about taking naked pictures of his wife, so much in fact that I kept the zingers coming by writing back to him about how I'd "really like to see naked photos of his wife some time" and I "hope he builds a website with naked pictures of his wife on it." I chuckled to myself as I hit the send button. Man was I on today!

It is at about this time when things stopped being funny/started to get really, really awesome.

In response to my e-mail about how I'd like to see naked photos of his wife, my friend sent me a link to a website on which he and his wife had been archiving all the naked pictures he had been taking of her in his spare time away from being a high-ranking government official.* It was at this point that I found myself at a crossroads of sorts. Being a born and raised Catholic, I was pretty darn sure that one of the Ten Commandments says something about not "coveting thy neighbor's wife" or something. I turned these words over and over in my head a bunch of times, poking at the semantics/checking for loopholes, and just generally trying to figure out if this applied in any way to me looking at naked pictures pictures of my friend's wife on the Internet.

After a few seconds of this, I decided that I was totally in the clear. Still, I was troubled. On the one hand- given my status as one of this nation's foremost political analysts- I'm always up for taking a look at naked pictures of pretty much anyone. On the other hand, my friend and his wife are people I've had chicken wings with and stuff. Was I really ready to make that leap from enjoying a light snack with close friends to totally checking out my friend's wife's goods? The answer, I decided after a bit of soul searching, was definitely, totally, as soon as possible, YES, YES, and YES!

Having made the decision to move forward in my quest to see naked pictures of my friend's wife, I clicked on the link my friend sent me to discover a gallery of photos of my friend's wife sitting around and doing stuff in the nude. My initial reaction was "Yes, that is definitely her and she is definitely naked. Holy sh*t. Holy f*cking sh*t." Also, I realized that- having already passed the link on to me and all- my friend was probably expecting me to write back soon and let him know what I thought about his photography skills/naked pictures of his wife, so I had no choice but to forge ahead and click on all 26 thumbnails in the gallery to get a sense of things.

It's kind of weird when you see someone you know totally naked in photos or- even better- on film. Not long ago, I was watching a movie featuring an actress friend of mine and at one point she totally took all her clothes off. My initial reaction was to look away (I am a gentleman), which was shortly thereafter followed by the decision to repeatedly hit rewind. I had similar feelings while checking out naked pictures of my friend's wife. Generally speaking, seeing your friend's wife naked is usually followed by getting punched in the face by your friend or getting some sort of indecent proposal from both your friend and his wife (in the latter case you usually have to move or- at the very least- cry yourself to sleep the next few nights). And as these things go, people usually look either much better or much worse naked than you might have previously imagined over and over again while taking a shower or cleaning up around the house. I am happy to report for both of us (and also my friend who took the pictures of his wife), however, that she looked really nice naked. I don't mean that in a creepy way- remember these are "tasteful nudes" I'm talking about here. Get your head out of the gutter. And remind me not to invite you to the MoMA next go-round.

Anyway, the naked pictures of my friend's wife mostly involved her hanging out in an old motel room in various states of undress and doing things like chewing gum, watching TV, and whatever else people do when they're naked and someone else in the room has a camera. In a couple of the shots, she even had her vagina hanging out. Since I am really mature and stuff, I could handle this in all its complete and total awesomeness. Given the choice, however, I must admit that my comfort zone lies somewhere closer to photos in which my friend's wife's vagina is not in the frame. Call me old-fashioned or whatever, but that's just where things are at with me at the moment. And just to let you know that I am a man of universal standards- I have yet to expose my external genitalia in or on any known media to date (no matter what anyone else's Photoshop skills might suggest).

After roughly 47 minutes of looking at naked pictures of my friend's wife on the Internet, I decided it was time to drop my friend a line and let him know what I thought of his new hobby. "Great shots," I wrote. "You really seem to have mastered that whole lighting thing and stuff. Were those shot on film or digitally? Nice vagina." Then I deleted that last part because I am classy. When in doubt, always take the high road, I say.

In closing, I would like to point out that if President Bush spent even half his time taking naked pictures of his wife instead of doing all that other crap he's been up to since he's been in office, this country (and a bunch of other ones too) would be a LOT better off.

Dave Hill

*not his real job.

Hockey's Wayne Gretzky

Here's a video I stumbled upon last night in my drowsy-but-unwilling-to-get-off-the-Internet-and-go-to-bed state. It's hockey's Wayne Gretzky being awesome. This particular clip highlights the time he scored 50 goals in 39 games one season, thus setting a new record (and, of course, kicking the crap out of the old one). I remember when this happened when I was a little kid and I was pretty darn excited about it. I'm not a big "sports guy," but I do love hockey and I do love that Wayne Gretzky. I mean, not in that way, but you know what I mean. Aside from "loving the game," there's something about hockey that's always seemed way less bullshit than pro football, basketball, and baseball and Wayne has always been the embodiment of that for me. I wonder if it's because I'm a 1/4 Canadian. Well, here's to never really knowing for sure.

Dave Hill

Do Not Even Get Me Started On This Topic!

Dave Hill

The Undisputed F*cking King of Google

Well, it’s been a long time coming, but as of this writing it can no longer be disputed- I am officially the King of Google as far as guys named Dave Hill are concerned. I got the exciting news this morning when I started my day how I start out pretty much every day- by typing my name into the popular Google Internet search engine to see what comes up. I have been doing this pretty much every since I officially became an Internet personality last July when I got my very own website on the Internet. It was a big, big day for me and while my parents themselves don’t have much use for the Internet (They are old), well, they were pretty darn proud of their youngest son I can tell you that sh*t for sure.

Anyway, in the early days of my life as a popular Internet personality (I have been at it for about nine months or something at this point and am pretty much a veteran at this sh*t by now), I was lucky if I even came up on the first page of Google listings for guys named Dave Hill. Some days I didn’t even come up until well into the second page! Can you imagine? Believe me- my life was a LOT simpler back then, but I don’t think I want to go back to those days of relative anonymity ever again, thank you very much!

It is at this point that you’re probably wondering who these other Dave Hills are that kept me from being number one for so long. Well, for starters, there is Dave Hill the master hypnotist and illusionist. He pretty much ruled as far as guys named Dave Hill go since pretty much the dawn of the Internet back in the ‘90’s. You had a nice run there, magic man, but looks like you’re gonna have to make THIS Dave Hill disappear if you ever expect to have another shot at number one. Oh, and one more thing- f*ck you!

Another popular Dave Hill is of course the guy who played guitar for the popular ‘70’s British glam rock band Slade (They wrote such hits as “Mama Weer All Crayzee Now” and “Cum On Feel The Noize,” both of which became popular hits for ‘80’s pop metal band Quiet Riot, whose guitar player is named Carlos Cavazo. He’s pretty sweet.) Since I’m a pretty big Slade fan and all, I really wouldn’t mind being number two to this particular Dave Hill if it really came down to it. He has rocked me and I thank him for that. Still, I think the fact that most of his career took place before the dawn of the Internet, he’s pretty much screwed if he ever hopes to do battle with me on the World Wide Web ever again. Thanks for the rock, Dave, but it’s time to pass the torch to this Dave Hill (who also completely rocks by the way. I can play old Van Halen and tons of other sh*t too).

Other Dave Hills that have given me a run for my money in the past include a blogger with a penchant for facial hair and military style haircuts (I am basing this on photos from his blog. I am like a detective), a jazz guitarist in Los Angeles (Sorry, dude- based on the photos on your website, I can’t help but think you dabble in fusion. I have no choice but to crush you. Game over, jazzbo!), and the popular British actor named Dave Hill, whom you might remember from such films as “The Usual Suspects” and some other ones besides that that I can’t remember right now. I guess you’ll have too Google him. Ha! Good luck!

Anyway, seeing as how I’m living the sweet life these days, it’s not like I have time to sit around typing all day or anything. Trust me on this one- you don’t stay number one on Google by being lazy or getting complacent. I mean, I probably could, but generally speaking that’s just not how it’s done. Now if you’ll excuse, I have to go see what those f*ckers at Yahoo are up to.

Dave Hill

Awesome Physical Fitness Update

In case you were wondering, I’ve just returned from the gym, where I had what some might call a seriously killer workout. I started off by going into the men’s locker room for a little stare down contest with a few guys who had just come out of the showers. This is my way of saying to them something along the lines of “F*ck you, dudes. You think you just had a killer workout? Well, suck it. I am about to go out there and f*ck this place up big time in my pursuit of physical fitness. Now put some goddman clothes on before I come over there and kick you right in the nuts.” Then I walked out of the locker room and stepped onto one of those elliptical machines, the kind Hollywood's Jennifer Aniston reportedly uses. I tore up that f*cking thing for like five minutes at least until the screeching sound of the elliptical machine some girl next to me was using started driving me nuts and I decided to hop off and hit the treadmill.

I was on the treadmill for a good five minutes before I figured it was time to hit some of the Nautilus-type machines. I find walking around the Nautilus machines and looking around a lot with a look of severity on your face is every bit as important as actually using them when trying to get into shape. After a bit of this, I decided to hop on the machine that whips your abs into shape and totally use it for a few minutes. Then I got off that thing and hopped on some other machine that supposedly works like every upper body muscle imaginable. Man, was I feeling the burn. It was just around this time that I realized I was having a seriously killer workout.

After pretty much ruling the Nautilus machines, I figured it was time for some free weight action so I grabbed two little barbell things that weighed fifteen pounds each and totally lifted them up and down like 50 times. I was worried a crowd was going to form around me if I kept this up for too long, so I stopped. After that I just drank some water from the fountain next to the women’s locker room and left. Mission accomplished.

On the way home from my killer workout, I decided to stop into the grocery store and buy some groceries since I had totally laid to waste like 300 calories or something during my killer workout. Time to rebuild. Since I was in health mode, I bought some carrots and some celery (the full versions. I don’t mess with that pre-sliced bullsh*t. I’m like a caveman or something. I just eat it pretty much the way it comes out of the ground. I rinse it off, but that’s about it. Deal with it.). I also bought some chips and salsa, both of which turned out to be pretty much bullsh*t. The salsa was Mrs. Renfro’s. No offense to her, but her salsa blows. She’s gotta get some quality control going up in this b*tch. I decided to buy some bargain tortilla chips too and they had some weird aftertaste like they had been sprayed with some sort of preservative crap or something. Dave says, "No, thanks!" Anyway, I guess I will have to sweat all that out when I hit the gym again in a couple months. As always, I will keep you posted. Until then, please do your best to live by my f*cking awesome example.

Dave Hill

51% Chance Of A Killer Workout

It is just after 5pm and I am still in my pajamas. However, I have not ruled out the possibility of having a killer workout for myself really, really soon, perhaps any minute now. I have decided to avoid further tanning at this point though. I will keep you updated.

Dave Hill

If They Can Get Along, Well...Maybe We ALL Can Get Along

Dave Hill

Crappy Coffee Shop Closes Its Doors For Good

The other day, as I was walking home from a long hard day of this and that, I couldn’t help but notice that the coffee shop on the corner near my apartment had suffered a bit of a blow in that it had totally gone out of business. This discovery stirred mixed emotions in me. On the one hand, I was bummed out as I really wanted this coffee shop to succeed since I drink coffee pretty much every day and prefer to get it from independently owned, non-Starbucks establishments whenever possible, especially ones that are right down the street from my house. On the other hand, however, I had a real big “I told you so” feeling about the whole thing as the f*ckers at this coffee shop had been pissing me off since pretty much the first day they opened for business.

Because of that whole thing about independently owned, non-Starbucks establishments mentioned a few sentences ago, I started going to the now out-of-business coffee shop pretty much every day from the first day they opened, even though they charged a quarter more for a large cup coffee than the place I had been going up until then. Still, I prefer to support local business, even if it costs me a bit more. Plus, this coffee shop was pretty large and had free wireless Internet access, so that was an added bonus. Up until that point, I had been pretty strongly against the idea of sitting in a coffee shop with my laptop. But since this place was brand new, I was pretty much the only one in the place most days- laptop or not- so I could actually sit there for a while and pretend to get some actual work done.

After a couple weeks of supporting the new neighborhood coffee shop though, I started to get fed up with their bullshit. Despite the fact that I had been a regular customer since day one, the lady that ran the place never once gave me even the slightest hint of recognition when I placed my order. I never thought that whole “service with a smile” thing really mattered to me up until then, but since I had totally been spending extra money and everything to support her new business, I guess I kind of would have liked at least a half smile or glimmer in her eye that seemed to suggest “Oh yeah, you’re the guy who has totally been coming in here since day one, sometimes even twice a day, and buying coffee and muffins and whatever other bullshit I might be selling on a given day even though you could totally be saving money by walking like one more block or something.” But no.

Making matters worse, half the time I got coffee at the place, they were out of lids or large cups, so I would have to walk out of their with a small, lidless cup of bullshit spilling onto my delicate wrist. One time when I asked for a large, they tried to get me to take two smalls instead. Since I didn’t want to walk down the street looking like some sort of addict or something, I decided to go with nothing at all.

The final straw with the now out-of-business coffee shop by my house was that they kept playing world music while I was trying to sit in there typing on my laptop. I f*cking hate world music. In fact, I have a theory that no one anywhere likes world music, not even the people who play it. World music is bullshit- everything from those annoying steel drums right down to the crappy album artwork. F*ck world music. F*ck.

On a side note that really didn’t affect me that much since I don’t wake up super early or anything, a lot of days no one would show up to open the coffee shop until late morning, so people who have jobs and stuff totally couldn’t get a morning cup of coffee from them. Some days there would even be boxes from the local muffin or bagel shop sitting on the ground outside the door since no one was there to accept the order from the delivery guy. A couple times I thought of stealing all the muffins and bagels just to teach the coffee shop people a lesson, but- dammit- I’m better than that.

Anyway, because of all of the above, at some point I decided to avoid the now out-of-business coffee shop for a while until they got their act together and were able to deliver some Dave-worthy coffee service. Unfortunately, however, that day never came and now there is totally no coffee shop there. In fact, I just walked by the place again today (sadly, with a cup of Starbuck coffee in my hand) and it had been completely gutted. I felt sad again for a moment. Then I thought about those small, lidless cups and crappy world music again and was all like “F*ck those f*cking f*cks!”

Guess who just totally tore that coffee shop a new one! Me- that's who!

Okay, I just had to get that out of my system. Thanks for listening.

Dave Hill

All Access: Middle Ages

If you find yourself with both Internet access and spare time (and if you are reading this right now- admit it- you totally have both of those things), you should go watch All Access: Middle Ages, the exciting new web series created by the likes of such fine young men as Brian Donovan, Nick Kroll, John Mulaney, Brendan Colthurst and Conrad Mulcahy. You can watch it on the popular Comedy Central website. It is my understanding that you can also download it at iTunes. The reason I bring all this up is because it is entertaining and also I am totally in it (I play a monk named Marty who likes good times). There are also all sorts of other fine folks in it too, including but not limited to Alison Becker, Sarah Burns, Brian Donovan, Brian Huskey, Nick Kroll, John Mulaney, Conrad Mulcahy, Julie Klausner, Andres du Bouchet, Charlie Sanders, Bobby Moynihan, Jessica St. Claire, Chris Gethard, Anthony King, Scott Brown, Ed Herro, Kristen Schaal, Jackie Clarke, Curtis Gwinn, John Gemberling, and Jason Mantzoukas. A new episode will come out each week for like ten weeks or something. Anyway, go watch it now or I will kick you in the privates.

Dave Hill

Morrissey Day

The new Morrissey album, "Ringleader of the Tormentors," is out today. You should go buy it. Not that he needs the money, but still.

Dave Hill

This Moment In Dio

Seeing as how I'm close personal friends with Ronnie James Dio (a/k/a the coolest, nicest guy ever and also a heavy metal god) and all, I figured it's time I start sharing the magic of Dio with others a bit more often. Here is his video for what I am pretty sure is his most popular song, "Rainbow In The Dark" (though "Holy Diver" is right up there). It's pretty great. Dio rocks out on top of a roof while some nerdy guy runs around the city being nervous and kind of freaked out by everything. It's a simple concept and it works. And, of course, it's a sweet tune too. Thanks, Ronnie James Dio. You f*cking rule, dude.

Dave Hill

The Funnest Bag Ever!

Dave Hill

Leaving Los Angeles

I am sitting in LAX airport as I type this, waiting to board my 3:50pm flight back to New York. I’m a bit early for the flight, so there are only about twenty other people waiting here with me at this point. It’s fun to guess who is heading home and who is leaving home on this flight. For example, the guy directly in front me of wearing mirrored sunglasses, a freshly laundered hoodie, and a white stocking cap pulled down to his eyebrows lives here in L.A I am guessing. He is rocking out to his iPod (the smart money is on Timberlake) and is glancing in all directions with a look on his face that seems to suggest “Check me out- I am totally just sitting here rocking out to my iPod and it is fucking sweet, dude. When I get to New York, I am going to head straight to Bungalow 8, which I’m told is in the Village.” When he gets there he will address everyone as “bro.” I want to kick him in the nuts.

I realize I’m being a bit mean and judgmental, but it’s just more fun this way. Besides, I’ve just spent the past nine days in Los Angeles and have pretty much reached my douchebag threshold. It’s been a really nice trip though, so I’m not complaining really. But still, the douchebag quotient here in L.A. is staggering. Fortunately however, the douchebags are easily spotted and you can avoid them much of the time if you keep your eyes open. In fact, in addition to seeing lots of old friends, I actually met tons of nice new folks while I was here, none of whom deserved a kick in the nuts at any point during my visit.

On the showbiz front, my shows here were pretty good. They weren’t great though, so- being a total pro and all- I was slightly disappointed. But for the most part, it was good times and I’m glad I came out here for a spell. The trip almost ended tragically, however, when last night I was followed by a coyote for about half a block as I headed back to my car after my show last night at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre. Since I haven’t had much experience with coyotes or predatory animals in general, I wasn’t exactly sure what the prospect of death was necessarily. I’d heard stories of coyotes ganging up on family pets and, well, killing them, so- since I’m pretty cuddly myself and all- I figured I might be in some danger, especially if there were a bunch of other coyotes lurking in the shadows (as I was pretty sure there were). In an attempt to avoid death and/or maiming, I called my friend Chris, who had just pulled away in his truck, and asked him to drive down the street my car was parked on and scare away the coyote so I totally wouldn’t die. He did and it seemed to work. Thanks, Chris. I am not dead and I have you to thank.

Since the near-death incident with the coyote, I’ve spoken with a few friends who live in L.A. about things and they assured me that the coyote totally would not have killed me and that I really had nothing to be afraid of. I think the word “pussy” may have been used a couple of times. Still, better safe than sorry (as people tend to say in such near-death situations). I’ve already been maimed once in my life (NOTE: when I was eleven, the family Golden Retriever bit me in the face, which is why I am so horribly disfigured. Oh, don’t act like you hadn’t noticed.), and I pretty much want to avoid it ever happening again. That coyote seemed a like a feisty one, the kind that would have absolutely no regard for my career in show business.

An Oreo-induced coma seems to have set in between this paragraph and the last, so I must stop for now. Looks like I’ll be jumping on the plane in a few minutes. I hope they don’t seat me next to the douchebag in the white stocking cap and sunglasses. I can hear his iPod from here. How does he keep himself from dance-dance-dancing?! Okay, I’m starting to feel bad. He’s probably just a nice guy who is just dressing and acting like a douchebag for some reason that is beyond his control. Maybe I need to take a closer look at the douchebag within and just learn something from this, dammit. Or maybe I should kick him in the nuts after all. Decisions, decisions.

Dave Hill