When we last left NFL “reporter” and hotel suggestion box rapist Peter King, he had successfully persuaded the Marriott Laguna Cliffs to force some poor worker to get up at 5AM in the morning to make sure free coffee was available in the lobby. Score one for the little guy! He also revealed that his kid drives like a maniac, introduced us to his good friends the Normans (you remember Bob and Patty, don’t you?), and stunned us with news that Los Angeles has nice weather and abundant traffic. What new peaks of lofty douchebaggery shall our man scale this week? Well, to tell you the truth…

This week’s MMQB installment was shockingly bereft of dipshit personal gripes and retarded observations. Oh sure, there was the…

Aggravating/Enjoyable Travel Note of the Week

…which is always a delight.

Stayed close to home this week.

“Did you realize there’s no free coffee available in my home before 6AM? Ann King, time to step up.”

But I’m finding something interesting about city life.

So many cars!

(For those who don’t know, my wife and I moved to Boston a month ago, and we’re still settling in. Enjoying it a lot so far.)

Good to know.

From last Monday morning to Sunday night , I drove my car once, two miles to the Home Depot.

Home Depot: Official Superstore Of The Erstwhile Condo Baron.

That’s it.

Get out!

I wonder if I need a car. I suppose I’ll need one as time goes on, but I miss nothing about driving. Walking is good.

Indeed. And there’s your important life lesson from Peter King this week: it’s good to walk. Peter King has had just enough of being a car-bound, mouth-breathing voluntary invalid. He saw Wall*E, so he knows just what kind of future awaits us all should we decide to shun bipedal automotion.

But again, this week’s column left me a bit wanting in the inanity department. Except for one sterling exception. As you know, famed Sports Illustrated writer Paul Zimmerman suffered three devastating strokes last November. We’ve had our fun with Dr. Z here from time to time, but I certainly wish him and his family nothing but the best. Peter King, of course, has gone above and beyond the call of duty in trying to help raise money for Dr. Z’s recovery at specialized clinics that aren’t covered by insurance. And how is he going about it? CELEBRITY AUCTION ITEMS! EACH ONE MORE ASTONISHING THAN THE LAST! I’ll let King fill you in…

On each of the six Mondays leading up to the event, I’m going to highlight an auction item or two to whet your appetite for the event.

Ooooh! Aaaaah!

Let me start with these two:

The Cowboy Trip of a Lifetime.

I assume that’s the trip where you get to bang the shit of Susan Skaggs on a plane, and then stab Everett McIver in the fucking neck with a pair of scissors. NYEEEEEEHAWWWWWW YOU ARE FUCKING ON VACATION!

Airfare and two nights’ lodging, from anywhere in the United States to Dallas for a Cowboys game this season at the new Cowboys Stadium in Arlington.

Is that ALL?

But that’s not all.

WOOHOO!

The winner and guest will get to stop by the Cowboys’ Saturday walkthrough practice at Valley Ranch, the club’s training headquarters, meet a player, and get a tour of the training facility. They’ll also get an onfield pre-game pass at the football game, with the chance to meet Cowboys owner Jerry Jones…

“Hey! Are you the faggot that venti-assed dipshit Peter King sent me? WELL, KEEP YOUR FUCKING CAMERA IN YOUR FANNY PACK AND DON’T GO OPENING YOUR FLABTRAP WHILE MY BOY ROMO IS OUT ON THAT FUCKING FIELD, COCKSUCKER! AND HANDS OFF MY POP SECRET!”

Minimum bid: $10,000.

$10,000?! HOLY JESUS! I like Dr. Z, but not that fucking much, man. After all, he did have a really good life and what not. For $10,000, you could probably get corrective operations for 25 African kids with cleft palate. No offense, but that’s way better bang for your ego-stroking charity buck, kids. TAKE IT FROM SOMEONE WHO DONATES GENEROUSLY TO FISHER HOUSE AND IS A REAL MAN FOR HAVING DONE SO.

What other auction items we got, King?

Lunch in the Boston area with me and Patriots linebacker Tedy Bruschi.

Holy fuck, that would be agony. “Waiter, please tell the chef this is coffee-flavored water, and not real coffee. Also, I’d like to buy lunch for those people over there (gestures wildly to entire restaurant). Make sure you didn’t pick up Schlereth’s tab! CAPITAL GRILLE, GREAT JOB ON YOUR COMP SERVICING. Tedy, tell them about the time we went to Pizzeria Mozza. Don’t bother trying to get a table kid. Only Elite Flyers can eat there. BUT WOW, THAT IS SOME KINDA CRUST.”

Lunch for you and a guest to meet the heroic Bruschi, one of the most famous stroke victims in sports history.

We’ll see about that. Let me just check my favorite book, “The 100 Most Famous Stroke Victims In Sports History”. I’m not going to dinner with some goddamn D-list stroke victim.

You’ll love conversing with him on what it took to overcome this malady.

True that. Who doesn’t love hearing people talk about their illnesses? “I had this really nice nurse: Conchita. Latin woman. Changed my gauze at least six times a day. Which is nice, because you know that gauze can get awfully gamey.”

Minimum bid: $3,000.

Jesus, $3,000? Do I look like I’m made of money, King? Not all of us get to eat nutmeg-flavored lasagna every night. How about YOU pitch in, you Kit Kat-hoarding bastard?

So those are but two of astonishingly expensive items you can purchase at Peter King’s charity auction for Dr. Z. What other items will you be able to bid on? Well, I have a few ideas.

Lunch with Toone P. Wiggins! Minimum bid: $75,000.

Driving Lesson with Laura “The Intimidator” King! Minimum bid: $83,000.

Round of pool with Peter at Jillian’s! Minimum bid: $400,000.

Trip To Nashville With Peter! Discover the fascinating aspects of slave bedding. Minimum bid: $752,000.

Late Night Trees And Talk In Montclair! Minimum bid: $856,780

One Package Of Concrete Cyanide! Caution: it’s explosive AND load-bearing! Minimum bid: $912,000

One Hour Semi-Argument With Matt Millen! You’ll be discussing whether or not skyscrapers can be made entirely of wet cardboard. Minimum bid: $1,234,987

Access To Peter’s Voice Mail Archive! Hear about the one time Brett Favre said he’d meet him at Panera! Minimum bid: $3,560,921

Tuition For First Grade Draftology 101! Minimum bid: 4,509,876 euros

Personal Coldplay Concert! Biidding only allowed if you have other priceless items to barter

Stroll Through Meadow With Brett Favre! Already sold to King for an undisclosed sum.

So you see, it’s an embarrassment of riches here. Surely, you can cough up a few grand to help Dr. Z make a very, very, very small amount of visible progress. Let’s finish the column.

I think you’ve got to know when you’ve got the upper hand with a team, and you’ve got to know when you’ve got to give in.

You got to know when to hold ‘em… WHEN TO HOLD ‘EM!

Just caught up on the last two episodes of “The Office.” Brilliant change of direction. Fantastic.

But why aren’t more characters drinking coffee?

Let’s hear some more arguments now, after three more senseless multiple murders with guns, about how we don’t have a gun problem in this country.

I’ll tell you why this is happening, because we don’t pay cops enough.

My brother went to North Carolina…

BIFF SAYS: “Good school. Great school. My brother is a twatgoblet.”

…and I like what the Heels stand for, generally.

The fuck does that mean? They’re a basketball team. They don’t stand for anything. They aren’t running for fucking office.

I have no interest whatsoever in Michigan State. But I don’t know how, unless you’re an alum or Roy Williams’ mother, you can be cheering against the lads from Michigan tonight. The state needs it, the region needs it, a dying industry needs it.

They need it bad! You’re gonna hear a lot today about how an MSU win would be so good for the people of Michigan. There isn’t an emptier, lamer fucking premise on earth. Wow, MSU won the national title! And guess what, your job is still in Korea! Forever! And your home is worth nothing! PROBLEM SOLVED! YOU CAN AFFORD THAT LUNCH WITH TEDY BRUSCHI NOW!

When we last left NFL gadfly and human landfill Peter King, he was pitching a terrible fit about the Marriott Laguna Cliffs refusing to serve him free coffee before 7AM, despite having a perfectly functioning coffee maker IN HIS ROOM. He also found out the shocking truth about Mexican drug cartels (they’re coming for us!), and insisted we all give cops a little more respect. I know Ryan Moats certainly feels likewise!

What fascinating tidbits will we glean this week from King’s bloated, festering sense of self-entitlement? Hint: It has something to do with coffee! Join me as I again delve into this week’s missive of Peter King tardsauce.

In a dual act of selflessness that humbles me, the Giants and Jets head coaches will come together in a fundraiser to help the ailing Dr. Z try to kick-start his long road to recovery from a series of three strokes.

Humbles YOU, Peter? I’m sorry, were you the one who had three strokes? Are you the one currently drooling in your lap as your wife tries to show you how to use a spoon? Whatever, this rare sense of humility from Peter King, however astonishingly misplaced, can’t last forever…

The Marriott in Dana Point, Calif., responding to my kvetching about no coffee anywhere in the hotel on weekends ’til 7 a.m., made a great call, starting this weekend.

They urinated in the coffee urn?

They’ve begun making coffee available in the lobby at 5 a.m.

HUZZAH! Thank God! That defines clutch. You see, people. We all need causes to believe in. Some people want to help flood victims. Others try to help seniors with dimentia. But Peter King has taken on the equally important task of making sure every luxury hotel he stays in has free coffee on demand EVEN WHEN THERE IS A FUCKING MISTER COFFEE MACHINE IN HIS FUCKING ROOM THAT CAN PREPARE AND DISPENSE FUCKING COFFEE IN A MATTER OF FUCKING MINUTES.

Good to see you improving, Marriott.

Yes, good for YOU, Marriott. You caved to the whims of a completely self-absorbed moron. Soon, you’ll have a Jillian’s in every lobby!

I really cannot get over this. Peter King uses his column to bitch about not getting free shit at the desired hour he likes it, EVEN THOUGH IT’S ALREADY AVAILABLE AND STILL FUCKING FREE. Then, he updates you on how effective his complaint ended up being, as if it’s some incredible accomplishment. Then he gives Marriott the equivalent of a fucking pat on the head by telling them just what a “great call” they made. This man is nothing short of a monster.

The stuffy St. Regis, however, is still making its beach restaurant a hotel-guests only deal. Someday I’m going to be good enough, and rich enough, to eat there.

Ooooh, the evil St. Regis! They must be too busy slaughtering babies to let Peter in! Scoundrels! DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THIS, ST. REGIS? TALK TO MARRIOTT ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT FUCKING WITH PETER KING IS A GOOD IDEA.

Why I’ll Probably Never Live In L.A. Dept.:

Do you really need a whole department set up for this?

Driving on the 5 in Orange County Wednesday afternoon around 2, I was in a 35-minute combination dead-stop and crawl. Volume. No accident, just volume

ZOMG! Traffic? In Southern California? Preposterous! Didn’t the gold prospectors just move out here? How could this area become so developed so quickly? Please Peter, tell me more about your plight…

… Friday morning, on the 10 near downtown around 11:15, another very thick 20 minutes of traffic

Oh no! Twenty minutes! Cancel that war in Afghanistan, people. The real terror is at home! How can we live in a world where rich people traveling on an expense account have to wait TWENTY FUCKING MINUTES in traffic? And why hasn’t Ford invented the flying car yet? What kind of fucked up world is this?!

… On the way back to our hotel Friday night around 10:25, another 15-minute snarl on the 101.

GAHHHHHH 15 MINUTES! IT’S LIKE BEING TRAPPED IN HELL FOR A VERY VERY SHORT PERIOD OF TIME! Peter King could have taught Dr. Z to sip coffee again in that time! You other drivers are slowly killing an old man!

I love L.A. Every visit I have there is too short.

Then what the fuck is your problem?

Great city…

Lofty city.

…so much to do, superb sports/entertainment complex with the Staples Center nucleus downtown (terrific, comfortable arena, by the way). But living there — I don’t know. Transportation, I fear, would be a major issue.

Indeed. Can we please get Peter an atlas and point out fucking Montana to him?

The weather might make up for it.

Oh ho ho! Even though he was miserable, he still had a wonderful time! Aren’t you glad?

Drove past the Viper Room, where River Phoenix died of a drug overdose, in West Hollywood. It’s a hole in the wall! Looks like some dive head shop from college days.

Who knew a nightclub would have a modest storefront?

Daughter Laura — flourishing and happy in L.A. — is what I would call, charitably, a competitive driver.

But she’s a kickass shoveler!

I did notice our friends the Normans,

Oh, I know them! Fran and Carl. Such a nice couple. Did you hear about Fran’s miscarriage? Such a shame.

WHO THE FUCK ARE THESE PEOPLE AND WHY DO I FUCKING CARE?

…out to see the World Figure Championships Friday night at Staples Center, kiss the road and thank the Lord for safe passage when Laura dropped them off after the skating Friday. I believe Mike Norman, a Vietnam vet, puts that commute in his five most harrowing drives of all time.

Hey, everyone! My kid’s a shitty driver! Got that? Tune in next week when I tell you how concerned I am about that editor she’s dating!

US Airways home from LAX Sunday … $15 to move from a center seat to an aisle with a few more inches of leg room … $40 to check three bags … $7 for a salad. Welcome to 2009 air travel, America.

YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO PAY FOR IT. I assume that $7 salad was a Cobb salad, by the way.

I think one of the reasons I like Jim Schwartz’s chances to succeed in Detroit… is because he thinks.

Yes, that’s a real rare trait among coaches, and among humans in general. I’m so glad the Lions hired a sentient being with a working brain that can process information to be their head coach, and not some invertebrate. Sea horses can’t coach linebackers for SHIT.

I think the moment I’ll remember from these league meetings, other than the Rooney things, happened just before the owners scattered at midday Wednesday. “Peter King!” boomed Al Davis, and he wasn’t smiling. “You haven’t written a good thing about the Raiders in 10 years!”

AND VYE HAVEN’T YOU TAKEN ME TO TOONE P. VEEGGINS YET, KEENG? I VANT MORE VEEGGINS!

I think I admire Vince Young’s moxie

He’s concrete cyanide!

I’ve had pizza

I’ve long since ascertained that fact.

like many 51-year-old old males who travel a lot, in many cities in this country and others. The best I’ve had is from…

This rare exotic place called Uno’s!

Pizzeria Mozza here in West Hollywood. Good luck trying to get in

IT’S ALL FULL! DON’T YOU PEOPLE RUIN IT FOR ME LIKE YOU HAVE THE FREEWAYS!

but if you do, the thin crust and perfect blend of natural ingredients will make you plead, “Don’t make me give up my table. Let me just sit here ’til I’m hungry again.”

Five minutes later, yes?

Amazing how many movie billboards there are in L.A. You’d think they made movies there or something.

I see what you did there.

There’s something wrong in America when you go on the road, need a prescription filled and have to pay full price because you have your HMO card and your prescription card to show the pharmacist but don’t have the approval for a clearly approved medication on the prescription bottle.

And there no free coffee either! What. The. Fuck.

Coffeenerdness: Very, very interesting coffee choice in Laura’s neighborhood. Peet’s, Coffee Bean and Starbucks, all within about 1,000 yards. That’s a reason to live somewhere.

Oooh, chain coffee joints! You don’t see that in every town! BUT TRANSPORTATION COULD BE AN ISSUE. I DON’T WANT TO SIT IN TRAFFIC FOR FIFTEEN WHOLE FUCKING MINUTES.

Hey, spring! Opening day’s a week from last night. You available?

No, but I’m sure the Normans are.

Don’t ask me about my bracket.

I won’t.

I liked Siena, Syracuse and Washington too much.

This bracket’s almost as humbling as another man who is not me having a stroke!

It’s official: There are more dogs than people in the South End of Boston.

But Lord willing, my daughter will be able to run half of them over.