The Jo-Tel... of such importance for our time that to dismiss it in the name of artistic criticism would be to blaspheme against the human spirit

I had a bad hair weekend this weekend, but not in the way one might expect. It wasn’t a bad hair weekend for the hair on my head. Well... not worse than usual anyhow. More for other areas...

On Friday while I was trimming my beard, I decided that I would try trimming my armpit hair for the first time ever. Why? I don’t know. I have to put my arms up in yoga a lot and I thought they looked long I guess. My hirci (yeah… there’s a word for "armpit hair" and I know it) aren’t particularly coarse or dark like some people's. Actually, they’re probably the softest hairs on my body… which is why it came as a surprise that, upon trimming them down to a 3, it felt like hundreds of needles were jabbing into my skin every time I moved my arms. It fucking sucked. I had to do the gorilla walk all night at the bars which was made even more noticeable by my constant scratching, bearing of teeth, and throwing of poop.

Then on Sunday… because JAY steals all our lighters I had to resort to the stove to light a cigarette and well, I figured since it was a really long cigarette I could probably get away with going in over the top, as Shark was currently trying to light his own cigarette from the same burner and I didn’t feel like waiting the 2 or so seconds it would take to light it the safe way. So I put my face directly over the flame and… well if you’ve never had your eyelashes burnt off it’s a very singular sensation. Um, how can I put this… it feels like shit. 1) You’re in pain 2) You stop thinking about the pain after like .0001 seconds because you start thinking "Oh Fuck! I just burnt off my eyebrows and part of my eyelashes! I’m going to look terrible!" So you go find a mirror and you do look terrible… at which point you can resume thinking about the fact that you just burned your face and it hurts. The worst part is the area in the middle of my eyebrows has been red for the past few days because the thin, fine, ghost unibrow hairs that are normally harmless evidently burn fast and white hot.

Also… it hurts to blink.

And furrow my noble brow.

It was a pretty satisfying cigarette other than that though. Mmm, that rich Carolina smoke!

So you 30 people have no doubt already heard about the whole... I'm trying to think of a word here so I don't have to use "brou-ha-ha" or "tizzy"... scandal surrounding an email from a person claiming to have found Lindsay Lohan's wallet on the street in NYC. The wallet contained the usual stuff: driver's license, receipts, American Express Centurion card, a rolled up 20, some yayo... you know: wallet stuff. For some reason though, people started making much ado about the coke... evidently it was just average coke, a little off-white and chalky. Paris Hilton was quoted as saying that she wouldn't have snorted it with Nicole Ritchie's nostrils, that it was not hot, and that such shitty blow was unbecoming of someone so famous and untalented... Harsh.

Anyhow, the link to the story is here. Scroll down a bit to read the original email that started the 8-ball rolling.

Since I'm slow with this type of thing, once I heard about it I breathlessly emailed the Evil Prom Queen who informed me that I was totally living in the past, and that Defamer had already concluded that the driver's license number was fake, and the card was most likely fake. However, I'd like to add my two cents because I see this as the only opportunity I'll ever have to display my totally useless knowledge of credit card numbers that I've picked up working here in the box office. The card is for sure fake and I'll tell you why (shout out Gabe!)

Here is the alleged card:

Originally people were claiming that it was a fake because the Black Card, the world's smallest and lightest Fuck-You-I'm-Better-Than-You implicator, does not print the cardholders name on it. This is not the case. It's just an option that American Express gives the black card holders to let them know that if they want they can extend their middle finger even higher.

However, the card number itself hold the key to it's fakeness. Here's where it gets boring: basically, credit card numbers are far from completely random. The digits that make up the number hold information about the card itself such as what type of card it is, where it was issued, when it was issued, etc. The simplest example is all AMEXs begin with 34 or 37, all Visas with 4, Master Card with 51-54, etc. Digits 2-4 tell you what type of Visa or Amex it is: like if you have a Bank of America check card in your wallet I can tell you the first four digits are 4217. If it's a United Airlines Visa: 4388. Well the person who faked the card was smart enough to nail the first two digits, but he fucked up on the next two. 3717 are the first four digits of I believe the Amex Blue Card. I can't remember but I do know I see 3717 all the time and to date I've seen exactly one Centurion. The first four digits on Centurions are 3745... I think. I found this example:

but it could be a sample four digits. I'm still trying to verify with 100% certainty (by emailing the only person I know that owns a Gulfstream) but what I am certain of is that no Centurion begins with 3717.

It is worth noting that the prankster did fabricate a number that adheres to the Luhn Algorithm... good work.

As Defamer commented when I emailed him this explanation, these pranksters should really try harder. All they had to do was black out the driver's license and credit card numbers, and get Lindsay's middle name right and this thing would still have mad wheels. After all, how hard is it to frame Lindsay Lohan for coke? Way to aim high, guys. What's next? Framing Ashley Olsen's boyfriend for robbing the cradle? Framing Tara Reid for having boobs that look like they barely survived a train wreck? Oh! I'm such a bitch!