Don’t you hate it when you’re you’re driving your car down Welch and one of those damn bikes flies by, scaring the excrement out of you and subsequently making you run right into the curb? Dontcha?

Well, I was going to do a column on my little adventures last Thursday on “Wake Up ISU,” or more appropriately titled “Way Early ISU.” I was actually thinking that I might have a new profession. I got to do a little interview, a little weather, and a little singing. Yes, I looked like a complete gimp singing the Iowa State fight song. So, I started thinking what I would do if I had my own talk show.

I know, I know, they’re pretty gimpy, but ya gotta admit they do suck you in. It’s not as pleasurable as it may sound, but damn it, they do it again and again. I catch myself flipping around watching Montel, Carnie, Jerry Springer and that other guy, whatshisname? Mark Walberg, and if he’s the same Marky Mark that some have attested than he sure is a complete dork. Not that he wasn’t before, but, okay he’s always been a complete dork.

Monday night he had a show devoted to breast implants. Now, if you’re a new show, what better way to boost the ratings than to have some mammoth mammaries and cunning cleavage on the show? None, the answer is no other way. I could come up with some show that had the 10 most desirous body parts, or something like that, but breast implants would pretty much do the trick.

Anyhoo, the show had women who had implants, those who were thinking about it, and even some who were disappointed and wanted theirs reduced. Now, that’s what I call a talk show.

Now if I had my show, appropriately titled Gab with the Guru, my first show would be very catching. How does “Women who don’t wear underpants” grab ya, or even one for the ladies, “Are boxers more comfy than tighty whities?” Now these are shows that people want to see. Who cares about hard news, for god’s sake this is entertainment. Kind of like that O.J. bit, but with more flesh, or at least flashy flesh.

Another idea that I had was on why men think it’s necessary to load up on testosterone before they go out drinking, or is it the drink itself? I only say this because of some little incident that happened to me Friday night. Head butts and my nose don’t exactly see eye to eye. More like needle to nose and voila, six stitches. but enough about me, here’s more about me.

My next show would be to contemplate exactly what the hell “Another Freakin’ Day in Paradise” is all about? Since they would be my local competition, I would have to have something a little more desirable on, like body piercing, but not your everyday run-of-the-mill nose. I’d go all the way and show a prince albert or even an ampallang. I’m sure Gypsy and Lou wouldn’t mind a little publicity for their new shop and their new artist Hugo.

Well, I’m out of here faster than a greased chicken running from a horny redneck.