onlydrinkhighlife

The Beauty of Facebook

2010-05-02T20:57:00.003-04:00

Like most people, I routinely ask myself why I'm still on Facebook. The allure of finding old friends has worn off, replaced with the frustration of ignoring requests to help people on Mafia Wars or reading status updates that are neither humorous or interesting. For days and days upon end, Facebook offers very little entertainment value and I find myself visiting the site out of habit more than anything. But every once in awhile, Facebook offers up something that guarantees that I'll stay hooked for months to come. Facebook's latest offering to me came today.

Earlier this week, a former classmate from elementary school requested to be my friend. I accepted the request and went about my business. When I logged on today, I was alerted that I had been tagged in a photo by that classmate. So of course I immediately clicked on the link to see what the photo was, because I hadn't seen this person in a number of years and was curious to see what the picture was of.

The picture was some random photo from a class trip in middle school and I looked gawky as hell in it. Oh well. The picture was part of a collection that another kid that I went to school with uploaded to Facebook. I wasn't friends with the kid, but still wanted to see the rest of the collection to see who else I recognized.

I acted like the typical Facebook stalker and clicked on the profiles of anyone I recognized and killed some time without finding anything particularly interesting. Then, I found the profile of the guy who was the absolute weirdest kid in my middle school. Jackpot! He was a spaz, a nerd, a social outcast, and proud of it. Sometimes he was nice enough, but usually he was surly and purposefully weird as fuck. He shook his dandruff on people and would wear the same shirt for days in a row. I couldn't wait to see how this piece of work turned out.

Well it turns out he is gay. If I had really thought about it, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by that. But I have to admit that I was. And in the grand scheme of things, him being gay is not a big deal. But again, I have to admit that I acted like I had just found irrefutable proof that Tom Cruise was gay. In my defense, though, he also identified himself as a swinger, so some of my giddiness was justified. I took a screenshot of the guy's profile and emailed it to my friends who also knew the guy, with the hopes of brightening their day.

I was about to close the page when I noticed that the guy had his own online diary. Well I couldn't pass that up. So I clicked on the link and dove in. The first few posts I read were what I would've expected; weird pop-culture references that I couldn't place and some notes about some nerd shit on the Web. Then I clicked on a post where the guy was bitching about some screw-ups that his bank made that left him short on cash. Again, stuff that people typically bitch about online. But then I read the comments and was led one step closer to comedy gold. Someone commented on the guy's financial situation and asked if there was anything he could do to help. My former classmate responded by saying that people could help by buying some stuff from his online store, which he then linked to.

Did I click on that link? Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I did!

And my nosy behavior was well rewarded. After I scrolled down past a number listings for various used books and cd's for sale, I came across an item that I was definitely not expecting to see. My former classmate had decided to put up his copy of "The World's Best Handjobs Volume 3: Daddy's Best."

As soon as I read the title, I couldn't stop laughing. Then I saw the asking price: $68.38.

I nearly died. There were just too many things that were funny about this situation. For starters, the guy is selling used fetish porn. And is not shy about it! And the price. How did he come to that exact figure? Is that really the price the market will bear?

I mean, the guy is in such financially dire straits that he's forced to sell used porno, but refuses to sell this porn at a bargain. He'd rather starve than sell "The World's Best Handjobs Volume 3" for a cent less than $68.38. I'm sure his reasoning is that he knows that whoever buys it is going to get a lot more than $68 worth of enjoyment out of it - because God knows he has. And if people don't want to spend nearly $70 on used handjob porn, then maybe Volume 5 is a better match, which is also for sale for $43.98 and is presumably worth every penny. It has to be - it's obvious that this shit means a lot to the guy, otherwise why would he set such a steep price? And if this is the used price, how expensive are pristene versions of the "World's Best" collections?

Needless to say, the revelation of what this guy is willing to sell online spawned a number of unanswered questions. But for me, the biggest question is if you're going to sell something so gross, why wouldn't he go to greater lengths to ensure his anonymity so that friends, co-workers, and acquaintances can't find out about it by going to his Facebook page and clicking their mouse 5 times?

BBBQ

2010-03-12T01:22:00.004-05:00

I do solemnly swear to objectively and subjectively evaluate each Barbeque meat that is presented to my eyes, my nose, my hands and my palate. I accept my duty to be an Official KCBS Certified Judge, so that truth, justice, excellence in Barbeque and the American Way of Life may be strengthened and preserved forever.

This past weekend I took the above oath – with my right hand raised – to become a certified judge for barbeque competitions. And I’m not embarrassed to admit that the pride and sense of accomplishment I felt was not minor. This type of certification isn’t handed out just willy-nilly. You have to earn it.

The way I earned my certification was by attending a 6-hour class run by the Kansas City Barbeque Society. Apparently these guys are the gold standard for judging barbeque competitions and are the driving force behind the TLC show “BBQ Pitmasters,” which follows the lives of people who barbeque competitively. I had seen the show a few times and enjoyed it (it was no “Pawn Stars,” but still good). My friend Scott was also a fan of the show and was intrigued by the whole world of competitive barbeque. How do people get into competitive barbequing? What are the rules? Who decides who the judges are? What criteria do they judge on? How do you become a judge? So he went on the Internet and figured out that the KCBS holds classes throughout the country to certify barbeque judges. Once he found out that the KCBS was holding a class near us, it was a pretty easy decision. We sent in the registration fee (which included membership into the KCBS) and prepared to become official barbeque judges.

As the class neared, I kept getting more and more nervous about it. I didn’t know what to expect from the class and was worried that it’d be a big letdown. I mean, I was expecting to get to eat a ton of awesome food as part of the class and if that didn’t happen, I’d be pissed. Scott shared the same concerns and admitted that he was going into it with low expectations just so he wouldn’t be disappointed. Though he still believed it would be worth our time and money: “Dude, nobody in the world has big enough balls to charge people 75 bucks to learn how to judge barbeque and just tell them ‘if you like the food rank it high, and if you don’t like it then rank it low.’ People would kick the guy’s ass if that’s all they got for their money. There’s not way they pull that shit. They gotta give us actual food to judge. At least I hope the do…”

The day of the class finally arrives. It’s held on a Saturday morning and starts at 9:30. As I’m shuffling my tired ass out the door to meet up with my four other friends that are taking the class with me, I see my little brother’s buddy passed out on my couch. He wakes up, looks at me groggily and says “Good luck at your hot dog eating competition!” then goes back to sleep.

As we’re driving to the class, my friends and I are guessing how big the class will be. The consensus was that there couldn’t be more than 10 total people in the class, because seriously, how many people are as retarded as we are and want to become a BBQ judge? Well the answer to that question is 60. The class was packed. People came from Iowa, Indiana, Canada and all across Michigan to attend this class. It’s safe to say I was taken aback.

The class was being held in the activity center of a church with a bunch of tables of 6 set up in front of a dry erase board. We were introduced to the leader of the class, a gruff but nice southern gentleman outfitted in a Canadian Tuxedo. He explained that barbeque was his life and his passion: “Some people golf, some people ski, my wife and I…well we barbeque. We enter barbeque contests 30 weekends out of the year and I teach these classes the rest of the time. We love it.” Obviously.

He started by extolling the benefits of the KCBS and noted that there are 2 sitting State Supreme Court justices that are members. Then he defined what barbeque entails, saying that true barbeque involves cooking through indirect heat. Then he started to lose me by going into the different barbeque methods: “Pretty much anything goes as long as it’s indirect heat. You got your Oklahoma Joe’s method, your Jambo Pit, your Big Green Egg, your pellet cookers, or you can do it like Ronnie K’s Smoke On The Water and use cook shacks, standard Weber’s, coal houses or the good ol’ smokers.” Uhhh, what? I looked around to see if anyone knew what the hell he was talking about, and to my surprise, people were actually nodding their heads in recognition!

He went on to explain that competitive BBQ consists of 4 categories: chicken, ribs, pork, and brisket. For each category, a competitor fills up a Styrofoam box with 6 separate pieces of meat (6 pieces of chicken in one box, 6 ribs in another, etc.). Competitors have the option of surrounded the meat with a garnish. Each judge then rates the entries on appearance, taste and tenderness on a scale of 2 to 9, with 9 being “excellent” and 2 being “inedible.”

It became pretty apparent pretty quickly, that I was a stranger in a strange land. The instructor and many of my classmates were throwing out terms I’d never heard of and cracking inside jokes about the better-known BBQ competitors and their methods. Many of the other people taking the class wanted to start competing in events that KCBS judged, so they were asking very specific questions about shit I couldn’t care less about. Like what constitutes pooling or puddling of sauce (which involves creating an area for “dipping sauce” and is a huge no-no when competing and is punished with a disqualification), what types of garnish can and can’t be used (“don’t even think about red-tipped cabbage, because it’s not allowed”), and if rib tips can be submitted in the ribs category (“a rib isn’t a rib if it doesn’t have a bone in it, so you’re not gonna win with rib tips if that’s what you’re thinking”).

People were not shy about asking stupid questions and didn’t seem to notice the instructor roll his eyes whenever he had to field the really stupid ones. It seemed like people kept getting hung up on how to rate the food and what they should factor in.

The instruction did not hesitate on setting us straight:

Q: How do we determine what is the amount of tenderness?

A: It should feel good in your mouth.

Q: Is there anything specific you look for in excellent barbeque?

A: It should be an emotional experience. You should be willing to drive to Milwaukee to get some barbeque that good.

Q: How much should we factor in the flavor of the barbeque sauce?

A: Did I say anything about this being a sauce competition?

Q: Should we rank an entry lower if they decide not to garnish the presentation box?

A: This is a meat contest not a garnish contest.

Q: Will the contestants know who is judging their entries and will we know whose food we’re judging?

A: It’s a double blind judging system. So you don’t have to worry about anyone coming after you with a gun if you rate them low.

Now it may sound like this guy was joking around about being chased with a gun and that his gruff demeanor was just an act. It wasn’t. He kind of reminded me of Wilford Brimley in The Firm or in the Seinfeld episode where he’s the United States Postmaster General – basically this guy didn’t fuck around. If he was assuring us that we wouldn’t be chased by a contestant with a gun for giving someone poor marks, it’s most likely because at one point a judge was chased by a contestant with a gun and that he has made the necessary changes to the judging process to prevent the threat of gun violence from happening again.

After everyone’s questions were answered, they finally let us dig into some good ol’ barbeque. They took us through a mock BBQ competition and all of us were able to test and rank the four types of entries. We tested and rated three different chicken entries, three rib entries, two pulled pork entries, and two brisket entries. It was a ton of food and a lot of it was really, really good. But the fuckers around me were acting like they were sitting at the judges’ table for Top Chef or some shit. They were being ridiculously picky and really low-balling the scores. You’d think someone who cleaned their plate and was licking sauce off their fingers would rate the food a little better than “average.” It quickly became apparent that the people who were judging like assholes were the ones who planned on entering BBQ competitions in the upcoming year and were just trying to come off as knowledgeable. It didn’t work.

Wilford Brimley helped direct us a bit on how lenient and strict we should be with our rankings and then took the final few minutes of the class to peddle some KCBS merchandise and announce upcoming BBQ competitions in our area. After a final check for any remaining questions, he led us in taking the aforementioned oath. We had done it; we were now official KCBS judges and eligible to experience all the fame and prestige that came with that title.

It was a long day, but the class did not disappoint. With just a 6-hour investment and a nominal one-time fee, my friends and I were able to ensure that we have the ability and opportunity to not only eat a shitload of free barbeque, but to give our opinion on that food and have people care. It’s okay to be jealous.

"California Dreams" Reunion

2010-03-05T09:32:00.003-05:00

About six months ago on this site, I wondered why the show “California Dreams” – which followed “Saved By The Bell” on Saturday mornings – wasn’t more popular and why stations like TBS weren’t airing reruns of the show. I also mentioned how awesome the theme song was and that Jimmy Fallon should be begging for a reunion of the cast. Well wouldn’t you know, but the other night Fallon did just that: He reunited the cast of "California Dreams" and had them sing the theme song with The Roots.

The lessons here? The first is that “Late Night with Jimmy Fallon” should hire me as a writer. The second is that I’m awesome for being so far ahead of the curve on identifying what's cool and funny in pop culture and remaining so humble about it.

The Hardchorus

2010-02-17T22:42:00.000-05:00

Phoenix and DC

2009-11-22T15:04:00.002-05:00

A while back, I ran into my friend DC at the bar. I hadn’t seen him in awhile, and I had a good time hanging out with him. DC has a way with words and doesn’t really give a fuck about anything, so he always has a good story to tell. One of my favorite stories of his is about him visiting my buddy Bill in Arizona. DC gave me permission to write about the story on here. (He's the kind of guy that you want to make sure you get permission from.) To make it easier on me, I’m going to write the story in his voice, just as he told it to me.

So I got to visit Bill in Phoenix. March Madness was going on when I was out there so we were drinking all day long. At night we end up going to some bar and meet these girls. Bill tells them some shit about me just breaking up with my girlfriend and that I need to be cheered up because I'm all depressed, and this girl starts eating it up. She was good looking, I guess. She had huge fake tits. I mean huge. And really fake. It was pretty obvious with the shirt she was wearing. Shit, she could've been wearing a Triple Fat Goose coat and you still would've been able to tell her tits were fake. But who cares, ya know? Tits are tits.

So anyway, she's all about it, so I end up leaving Bill and go back to her place with her. She lives by herself and so we don't waste anytime and go at it. Then right afterwards she starts acting fucking crazy. Like nuts. She starts telling me how much it sucks that I'm only gonna be in town for the next three days and that she's gonna miss me. Dude. I don't even know this girls NAME. What the fuck is she talking about, ya know? So I was like yeah that sucks...ANYWAYS. Then she starts saying how we gotta figure out what we're going to do for the rest of the weekend. At this point I'm ready to fucking jumpoff her balcony just to get out of there. So I play that off and she calms the fuck down and we're just laying there in her bed. She gets up to go to the bathroom and turns to me and says "I just realized that no one in the world knows where you are right now. I could kill you right now and no one would ever know." And then she laughs and goes and takes a piss or shit or whatever.

But seriously, what the fuck? I mean she was right: she could kill me and no one would ever know. So my first thought was that maybe I should kill her first, because no one she knows knows that I'm here. But then I thought I should just bolt, because who the fuck knows what's up with this girl and it might be my only chance. So I grabbed my clothes and my shoes and fucking ran out of there, and didn't look back, cuz I didn't want her to run out of her place and see me in the parking lot.

I get a safe distance away and realize I left my fucking Oakleys at her place. A $200 pair of sunglasses that I just bought gone with the wind because of this bitch. Fuck it though, it was worth it because if I would've stayed there she might've killed me. Or I might have killed her.

So now its like 2 in the morning and Bill's not answering his phone and I have no clue where I am, where he is, where he lives, or how to get back to anywhere. Basically I'm fucked. I was walking down this main road and must've been near a college because I kept walking by these house parties filled with Mexicans and meatheads just yelling shit at me. It was the fucking worst, dude. Honest to God, everyone in Arizona must drink and drive because it seemed like every time a car passed me, the people in it were throwing empties at me. Bottles of beer just whizzing by my ear while they're calling me a cocksucker and faggot. It was like payback for any bad thing I've ever done in my life. I just had to shut up and take it because if I said anything or gave a look, I was gonna get my ass kicked by some Mexican gang and anyone I know who could've helped me out was a thousand miles away. All I could do was take off my chain, wrap it around my fist and hope I could find a motel to crash at. I probably looked so fucking pathetic.

Anyway, it's like 3 in the morning and I stumble into this town and see a cop standing on the sidewalk. I've never felt so relieved in my life. So I go up to him and ask for help. "Excuse me sir, but do you know where the closest hotel is? I'm not from around here and got separated from my friends and really need to sleep." He just looks at me and starts to give me shit! "Turn around," he says, "and take three steps." So I do and I realize I'm right in front of a hotel. "And he's being sarcastic and shit and asked if that was close enough for me, so I just looked at him, waited a second, and then told him to go fuck his mother and went inside.

He probably saved my life, but seriously, I didn't need to take shit from this asshole; I was drunk as fuck, my life was threatened by some random chick that I probably caught something from, I lost my brand new sunglasses, and I just went through a gauntlet of flying beer bottles while being called a faggot. Just tell me where the hotel is and mind your fucking business, ya know what I mean?

So I walk up to the hotel counter and I realize that this hotel is pretty nice. I ask for a room and the dude behind the counter tells me the room is like 200 bucks or some shit. Fuckin' perfect. Of course it is. Banging this chick is costing me half a grand now. But what am I gonna do, ya know? So I pull out a credit card and give him my license and the guy takes it and says "Oh you're from Michigan? I went to Michigan State. Lemme see if I can give you a discount." So he knocks fifty bucks off the bill. It's the only good thing that happened that night.

So I pass out and finally get a hold of Bill the next morning. I'm waiting in the lobby for him to pick me up and he pulls right up to the door with "Jessie's Girl" blasting. You could hear it from inside the lobby. Everyone's lookin' around and I get up, with no suitcase, looking like dogshit, and slowly walk tothe car. If anyone who I had passed on the street the night before had seen me right then with an 80's song blasting, getting picked up by a dude, they would've been like "See? I told you he was a faggot." But whatever, it was funny. Bill couldn't stop laughing. And I still got laid. Oh, and I never did catch anything from that chick. I don't think she was clean, but either way I didn't get anything from her. Which is good, because I would've killed her the next time I was out there to see Billy.

Phil Collins's Girlfriend Hates Him More Than You Do

2009-11-18T23:21:00.011-05:00

Everybody knows that Phil Collins was the absolute shit in the 1980’s. He was in the zone that decade and a majority of his output - both with Genesis and as a solo artist - was indisputably awesome. Despite his commercial success and legions of fans, there were people that couldn’t stand Phil Collins. I call those people assholes. Phil Collins calls them his exes. Just take a look at his songs from that era and it is apparent that pretty much anyone who had a relationship with Phil treated him like a piece of shit.

“Misunderstanding” (1980)

Misunderstanding - Genesis

Phil starts off with bad news and it keeps going downhill from there. His date is late and he’s stuck in the rain waiting for her. Then he figures out she stood him up. Ouch. Then he admits to partaking in some minor stalking by calling her repeatedly and driving by her house. And his reward for that behavior? He gets to see some other dude walking out of the girl’s house after (presumably) boning her. That is some mean shit to put Phil through. Why did she have to lead him on like that?

“No Reply At All” (1981)

No Reply At All - Genesis

Phil gets to experience the dreaded silent treatment. “Look at me, you never look at me/Ooh, I’ve been sitting, staring, seems so long/But you’re looking through me/Like I wasn’t here at all/No reply, there’s no reply at all.” Well that sounds like fun.

“I Don’t Care Anymore” (1982)

I Don't Care Anymore - Phil Co...

Phil reaches a breaking point and stands up to the bully that is his girlfriend. She keeps talking shit about him and making fun of him, so he finally breaks up with her. Just think about how badly she had to treat him to make a sad sack like Phil be the one to end the relationship. Phil Collins doesn’t dump. He gets dumped. That’s his thing.

“That’s All” (1983)

That's All - Genesis

Phil’s got another doozy on his hands, and this one likes to bicker: “I could say ‘day,’ and you would d say ‘night’/tell me it’s black when I know that it’s white.” He knows that this isn’t healthy, but he can’t help himself. He’s learned to like the abuse.

“Easy Lover” (1984)

Easy Lover - Phil Collins

Another relationship with a girl who treats Phil like shit. His buddy Phillip Bailey tries to alert him: “She will play around and leave you/Leave you and deceive you/Better forget it/Or you’ll regret it.” But does he listen? Fuck no.

“Against All Odds” (1984)

Against All Odds (LP Version) ...

Phil manages to find himself a girlfriend who finally sees him for the catch that he is: “You’re the only one who really knew me at all.” Yet she’s still walking away from him. Not only that, but she won’t even let him down gently: “I wish I could make you turn around/turn around and see me cry.” She won’t even turn around? When the whole song is Phil pleading for her to just look at him, you know he’s dealing with someone who couldn’t care less about him.

“One More Night” (1985)

One More Night - Phil Collins

Phil is pleading with a girl he loves to give him a chance to tell her how he feels. By now, Phil is so beaten down that he realizes that his efforts will be fruitless: “I know there’ll never be a time when you’ll feel the same/And I know it’s only words/But if you change your mind you know that I’ll be here/And maybe we both can learn.” This broad thinks so little of him, that Phil can’t even fathom that this girl would ever think of him the same way he thinks of her. It is becoming apparent that Phil has given up hope on being in a loving and healthy relationship. Now he’s just settling for small victories like getting one more night or getting the woman he loves to turn around and look at him while he cries.

“Sussudio” (1985)

Sussudio - Phil Collins

And the women in his life have finally gotten him to speaking jibberish. Yet another song about Phil crushing on a girl who doesn’t know who the hell he is. Which is weird, because in 1985 Phil was pretty fucking famous. How did she not even know his name? I wouldn’t date someone now - 25 years after his career apex - if she didn’t know who Phil Collins was and didn't enjoy his music. If this girl that Phil fancies has never heard of him then that means that she has horrible taste in music, has been in a coma, or is retarded. All three of those should be deal-breakers for not only Phil, but for all of us.

"Take Me Home" (1985)

Take Me Home - Phil Collins

Phil’s family had him committed and put in a mental hospital. This is an act of love and concern if the person being committed is actually insane or unstable. However, when the person is sane enough to write such a kick ass song as this one and is only sent away because his friends and family had their fill of listening to Phil bitch about his failed relationships then it just seems drastic and mean.

“Invisible Touch” (1986)

Invisible Touch - Genesis

“She don’t like losing, to her it’s still a game/And though she will mess up your life/You’ll want her just the same…” Okay, maybe Phil is insane. Is Phil drawn to manipulative women or is there something about Phil that makes normal women become mean and abusive once they get to know him?

“Throwing It All Away” (1986)

Throwing It All Away - Genesis

Well the title pretty much says it all, doesn’t it? Yet again, somebody is breaking up with Phil and willing to throw everything away just to end the relationship. It’s like he’s the abusive husband from “Sleeping with the Enemy” or something. Seriously, it couldn’t have been that bad. Even Phil can’t believe it: “Who will light up the darkness? Who will hold your hand? Who will find you the answers when you don’t understand?” The apparent answer to all three of those questions is “I don’t give a shit,” because she still ends up leaving him, driving Phil to hurl the empty threat that “someday (she’ll) be sorry.”

“Something Happened on the Way to Heaven” (1989)

Something Happened On The Way ...

At this point Phil begins hating himself as much as everyone he’s ever dated hates him. “We’ve had our problems, but I’m on your side.” He’s taking the side of the most recent woman who has become sick of him and left. This song finally lets us in why people tend not to like Phil: “You can run, and you can hide, but I’m not leaving unless you come with me.” Um, Phil, it isn’t considered leaving if you’re still in the presence of the person who wants you out of their sight.

If you think about it, Phil Collins is practically a saint. He suffered years of abuse from a variety of women and spun it into hit records for our listening pleasure. After reading this, you may start to feel sorry for Phil Collins since he obviously had a rough love life in the 80's and was treated like an asshole for all those years. I felt the same way while writing this piece. But then I remembered that this is the same guy who wrote "I Can't Dance" and I didn't feel so bad for him anymore.

That said, we should be thankful that we had Phil Collins in our lives in the 1980's and that he had such horrible, horrible women in his. He has made a significant contribution to the soundtracks of grocery stores and dentist offices throughout the country that cannot be forgotten nor ignored.

Hey Man

2009-11-13T00:09:00.001-05:00

Here is a video I made that features every single "Hey man" in the movie "Dazed and Confused."

Steve Phillips - The Movie

2009-10-22T00:23:00.009-04:00

Yesterday, it was reported that Steve Phillips, a baseball analyst for ESPN, was suspended for one week because he was having an affair with a 22-year-old production assistant named Brooke Hundley. Unfortunately for Phillips, the suspension is the least of his worries. Phillips is married and when he tried to break it off with the 22-year-old, she went nuts and started stalking and harrassing his wife and kids. She even left a letter on the door of his home addressed to his wife detailing the affair and slamming his marriage. The full letter can be found here. And believe it or not, that isn't even the worst part of this story. The worst part of this story is that the woman that Steve Phillips cheated on his wife with, and jeopardized his career for, looks like this:

I figured such a intriguing story has a good chance of becoming a movie, so I tried to come up with the perfect cast for the two leads.

The pick for Steve Phillips is pretty obvious: John Slattery of Mad Men fame.

I tried to think which young Hollywood star could best capture the unique look of Brooke, one person immediately popped in my head: the skater dude from Clueless.

I realize that he would have to put on some weight for the role, but I'm sure that Breckin Meyer would have no problem making that sacrifice for the opportunity to play such a star-making role.

Then inspiration struck. Forget the dude from Clueless. Sure, he's the perfect actor for the role, but he isn't the perfect character for the role. I admit, that my suggestion is a little out there, but once you see it, I think you'll agree that when it comes to the perfect portrayal of Brook Hundley, Junior Gorg is the only option. See for yourself, and just try to argue with me:

I've even come up with a title for the movie and created a mock-up movie poster to help drum up interest and get this thing made. The title and poster are based on the fact that this psycho looks like the modern day equivalent of Marla Hooch from A League of Their Own.

Randos

2009-09-01T21:19:00.004-04:00

There is something about being at a major league baseball game that makes grown men retarded. Mental retardation is the only explanation for why 40 year old dudes sitting in $80 seats fight with each other and children over a 79 cent foul ball. It is even worse when these losers fight over a ball that's tossed into the crowd by a base coach or player at the end of an inning. Are they going to put it on their dresser in their bedroom like they are 8 fucking years old or something? "Yeah, this is a ball I caught at a Tigers game last year. Well, no it wasn't a home run ball. Actually, the first base coach for the Royals threw it into the stands after the infielders warmed up with it. He was trying to toss it to some kid, but it went through his hands and I managed to elbow him out of the way and found it underneath the seats. The kid looked like he was gonna cry and his parents started talking shit, but what I can I say? I wanted it more than the kid did and that's why it's on my dresser and not his. Hey, where are you going? What do you mean you have to work early tomorrow?

***************

I attribute a lot of Saved By The Bell's success to the fact that it used to be on 4 times a day, Monday through Friday when many of us were growing up. It couldn't be avoided. (Except by the kid at my school who didn't have a TV in his house. But even without a TV, he had still seen a couple episodes. After one of the few times he managed to watch an episode, he was telling me and my friends that Slater was his favorite character because he was so funny. We couldn't understand it, because everyone knows Slater wasn't that funny, so we verified he was actually talking about Slater. Mike Teevee-less answered "yeah, the guy with curly hair," so we kept asking him to describe what was so funny. As he went into detail, it became apparent that he wasn't talking about Slater, but Screech. Holy shit, did I want to beat this kid up when I realized that. For one, he confused Slater with Screech. Who does that? And two, he actually thought Screech was funny! I can't think of two better reasons for administering a beat down. Well I can, but you know what I mean.

Anyway, I've been wondering why no one ever aired reruns of California Dreams, the show that used to run after Saved By The Bell. If you remember correctly, the show was about "surf dudes with attitudes." It was kinda groovy.

I really think if TBS or USA would've picked up the syndication rights to this show and subjected kids to the reruns of it on a daily basis for 15 years like they did with Saved By The Bell, Jimmy Fallon might be begging Brent Gore to join a California Dreams reunion show instead of begging Mark-Paul Gosselar. I'll admit that it isn't as great as Saved By The Bell, but it was definitely better than that piece of shit, Hang Time.

And just because it's awesome, here's a clip of Mr. Belding getting to the bottom of things:

***************

Considering that she was a poor, ugly, nerdy girl who didn't fit in with the popular, rich crowd at West Beverly High, you would think that Andrea Zuckerman would just go with the flow and not insist that people pronounce her name as "AHN-drea" instead of the more normal "ANN-drea." But no, she had to be a complete bitch about it.

***************

One of the most underrated funny lines in Back to the Future is right at the end of the movie when Marty (SPOILER ALERT) returns to the perfect version of 1985 and Doc busts into the driveway saying he has to take Marty back to the future and that Jennifer can come along because "it concerns her too." Marty's immediate reaction is to ask "What, do we become assholes or something?"

I love the fact that that is the first thing that Marty's worried about. How great would it be if that was what the sequel was about?

***************

If I was in charge of the advertising campaign for the morning after pill, I wouldn't call it "Plan B" like they do now. That makes it sound as if needing the pill is something to be ashamed of. Instead, I would call it "Plan Be Awesome." As in, "I think I'm going to be awesome tonight and not make him wear a condom."

2nd Annual Booze 'n Bike Rally

2009-08-06T22:16:00.026-04:00

On Saturday, July 11th, 2009, a group of friends and I participated in an event that challenged our bodies, our hearts, our minds, and our livers by participating in the 2nd Annual Booze 'n Bike Rally. That's right. For the second year in a row, we went on a pub crawl on our bicycles. The crawl was 22 miles long and included 18 bars. Each person was required to drink 1 beer per bar. At each Irish bar, an Irish Car Bomb was required, in lieu of beer. We began the sojourn at 11a.m. at the Crestwood Lounge. Last year I kept extensive notes and posted them here. However this year I decided to change it up a little. Instead of a running diary, I enlisted with my friend The Grodfather to help me write reviews for each of the bars we patronized. I've included the reviews below and added anything else I could remember from the day's events.

To commemorate the event, the Grodfather did something completely awesome and bought everyone yellow wristbands, like the kind Lance Armstrong wears. Except ours didn't have the phrase "Live Strong" on them. We live by a different motto: Bike Drunk.

We had more participants this year than we had last year, but only four returning riders, due to a variety of reasons including scheduling conflicts and people being lame. At the first bar, people began taking in who was missing from the previous year, which led to the following exchange:

"Why isn't Lizz doing the rally this year?"
"Her girlfriend wanted to go camping with friends, so she had to do that instead."
"Oooh, I don't blame her then. Her girlfriend is hot...you gotta lock that down."

Bar #1 - Crestwood Lounge

Description: A blue collar bar that features bikini-clad waitresses and, inexplicably, luau décor.

Price of a Miller High Life: $1.75 a bottle.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: Coke. Or for a bikini-clad waitress’s ex-boyfriend to kick your ass for staring at his property.

Rating: 2 Stars (Docked half a star for not having any TP in the ladies room).

When riding up to the next bar, it looked they were closed and we'd have to come up with a quick Plan B. Delaney didn't hesitate: "Let's go next door to the 7-11 since they are giving aways free Slurpees today because today is 7/11, and then we can buy a fifth of vodka and pour it into them." The idea was a stellar one, but the second bar ended up not being closed, so the plan never came to fruition.

Bar #2 - East Side Mario's

Description: Casual neighborhood Italian restaurant and bar.

Price of a Miller High Life: n/a – Miller Lite was $3.25 a bottle.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: Free peanuts, cheap appetizers, and people in khakis and polos enjoying authentic “EYE-talian” cuisine.

Rating: 2 ½ Stars – Free peanuts is a plus but not having a High Life to wash’em down with is a minus.

On our way to the third bar.

Bar #3 - PY Stix (Nee Oceans 11, nee Jamie’s Again, nee Jamie’s Jammers II, nee Jamie’s Jammers)

Description: They were closed!

Price of a Miller High Life: Unknown

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: A reason to turn around and go home to spend time with your family.

Rating: Zero Stars – A complete dick move by them by being closed when we wanted to drink there. No wonder they’ve gone bankrupt so many times.

When we hit this speed up we decided to just go to the next bar on the route and try to add another bar to the route later on in the day.

This is what a closed, shitty bar looks like.

The New Bar #3 - Mason’s Bar and Grill

Description: A local landmark where High Life is simply referred to as “Miller.”

Price of a Miller High Life: $2.95 a bottle.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: The best burger in Livonia, and napkins proclaiming as much, as well as good honest folk with real lives and real stories. (It’s the salt of the Earth in this joint.) Their burgers really are the tits though.

Rating: 4 Stars – Don’t leave this place without eating a burger. For reals.

At Mason's, one of the riders got a banana out of their backpack and began eating it. Naturally, we started giving them a hard time. I mean they were eating fruit. In a bar. I don't even think that's legal. We cut them a break when they explained that they had a bad case of diarrhea and that eating bananas helped get rid of it. Can't really argue with that.

The banana: diarrhea's mortal enemy apparently.

Bar #4 - Plymouth Roadhouse

Description: Another bar with a bikini wait staff, but no Dalton! No Jeff Healy behind chicken wire either. (Yes, I know that Jeff Healy is dead, but still…just no excuse.)

Price of a Miller High Life: $2.75 a bottle. (The first bar to check I.D.’s.)

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: A bikini wait staff that doesn’t seem to love the smell of cocaine as much as the staff at the Crestwood, and who are self-aware enough to work in a dark and dank bar so they can hide their embarrassing blemishes, cellulite, and scars.

Rating: The fact that the owner’s wife came to our table and gave us all free drink coupons was a nice show of hospitality and worthy of a bump of ½ a star in their rating: 2 Stars

After the above picture was taken, of Johnny and Chuck, the photographer told the guys to pose for one more picture and ordered Chuck to kiss Johnny. Chuck replied, without hesitation: "I want to kiss Johnny about as much as any other person in the world wants to kiss him." Needless to say, a second picture was not taken.

While drinking my High Life, I noticed that they had a food special going on. Me: Hey Andy, they're selling sliders for a buck here! Andy: Yeah, I'd need 2 bananas if I ate those.

Bar #5 - Paddy’s Pub

Description: An inauthentic Irish bar with faux Celtic décor.

Price of a Miller High Life: n/a – We only ordered Irish Car Bombs, which were pricey. And delicious.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: A place that looks like a finished basement from the late 70’s that features Guinness on tap.

Rating: 2 ½ Stars

Car Bombs at 1:25pm? Why not?

After downing his Car Bomb, 5 Mile bee-lined to the bathroom and promptly threw up. By the time he was done, most of the group had already left to start riding to the next stop. When 5 exited the bathroom, all the new friends he had made when ordering the round of shots offered to buy him a beer. 5 Mile declined, explaining that he didn't need it as he had to get going so he could meet up with the rest of the group and drink at the next bar on the route. I mention this because this may be the first time 5 Mile has ever turned down a free beer. EVER.

Bar #6 - Kickers

Description: A last minute addition thanks to PY Sticks not being open. They end up being closed as well. No rating or punishment for them, as they were not part of the initial route for a reason. This place sucks.

The New Bar #6 - Levan Wine Shop

Description: In keeping with tradition, we stopped at a party store to make up for the closed bar we weren’t able to patronize. And, no, “Levan” is not the name of a member of an 80’s R&B group. It is a road in Livonia, Michigan. However, “Levan” and “Livonia” are the names of the last two customer service reps you spoke with when you tried to lower your cable bill.

Price of a Miller High Life: $1.00 (comes with free paper bag to drink it out of).

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: A party store.

Rating: 3 Stars

We all went into the party store and we each bought one loose bottle of beer. We then drank it in the parking lot and on the side of the building. Ten minutes later when we were finished our beers, Andy collected a few of the empties and went back into the store to return them to the same guy who sold to us. The guy gave Andy a look and asked "Havin' some fun today, huh?"

The party store's bathroom was quite spacious.

While we were drinking in front of the party store, a car driving by began honking wildly and slowed down enough so the driver could yell at us. "Hey that's not a bar! You gotta ride further down the road!!!" We were trying to figure out who the driver was when 5 Mile figured it out: "That's the dude who offered to buy me a beer at the last bar we were at! I told him I couldn't because I was on my way to another bar. I didn't realize he was gonna follow us there."

5 Mile's favorite expression happened to be written in cement in front of the party store.

The party store happened to be next to the Jewelry Factory of Livonia. Here in Metro Detroit, the Jewelry Factory's commercials are unavoidable, and always end with the company's employees slowly waving to the camera. For those of you lucky enough to have no clue what I'm talking about, here is the commercial.

Naturally, we decided to film our own version:

Bar #7 - Lake Pointe Yacht Club

Description: Yet another bikini bar. But this one is on a lake. There are no boats here, though. And certainly no yachts!

Price of a Miller High Life: $3.25 a bottle

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: Herpes.

Rating: 3 Stars

Group shot in front of beautiful Lake Newburgh.

Bar #8 - Buffalo Wild Wings (BW3’s)

Description: A national chain restaurant that prides themselves on their wings and offering a ton of different beers on tap. (Though they all taste the same.)

Price of a Miller High Life: n/a – No High Life here, so we settled on Miller Lite at $3.50 a bottle

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: the oldest, plainest, wait staff this side of a Knights of Columbus. Think Carla from “Cheers” without the sarcasm but with all the kids and the no good ex-husband.

Rating: 3 ½ Stars (Surprisingly good service with as big of a group as we had.)

On the way to BW3's we passed Chuck's neighborhood and were surprised to see his family cheering us on with homemade signs. Later we found out that only some of his family was cheering us on. Chuck's little brother isn't a big fan of drinking, so he wanted to hold up a sign that read "Repent," but his dad wouldn't let him. So he explained to Chuck that when he made the sign for us he purposely left out an exclamation point and instead, inserted a period, because he was not excited about our event.

The "protest" sign.

Bar #9 - Bar Louie

Description: A fancy pants bar that caters to douche bags and old ladies who consider themselves “cougars.”

Price of a Miller High Life: $3.50! (Seriously, Bar Louie? $3.50? Fuck off.)

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: An overpriced drink and a snooty waitress.

Rating: 1 Star.

Bar Louie was the last place I took any notes other than for the reviews. For those wondering, the last note read: "Bar Louie = Gay."

Bar #10 - Champp’s

Description - A bar that tries to WAY too hard to be hip and happening and just ends up being way too loud.

Price of a Miller High Life: n/a – Jarz bought everyone a Coors Light boomba for $4.59 a piece, because that’s just the kind of guy he is. (And because he didn’t pay for jack shit before or after Champp’s.)

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: a $35 sweatshirt to buy that has the bar’s name on it, so that when you wear it the next day and people ask you what you did last night you can smugly smile, point at your sweatshirt and say “I’ll give you three guesses!”

Rating: 2 ½ Stars.

Bar #11 - Claddagh

Description - A legit Irish bar.

Price of a Miller High Life: n/a – Car Bombs again.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: A bunch of affluent suburbanites from Livonia and Northville who want to show off their Irish roots by muscling down a Black and Tan. That and first daters…lots of first daters.

Rating: 3 Stars.

All smiles for the second round of Car Bombs.

Bar #12 - Doc’s Sports Retreat

Description: The self-proclaimed “Best Sports Bar in Livonia”

Price of a Miller High Life: n/a – They don’t serve High Life and I don’t remember what we bought instead.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: a place that licks balls.

Rating: 2 Stars (and that’s generous).

By all accounts, this is when the wheels began to come off (figuratively speaking). 5 Mile and Andy did Jaegerbombs in addition to their beers, we commandeered the jukebox, and people began performing the "Joe Baum" dance move in the middle of the bar.

The beat found 'em.

And for some reason that probably made sense at the time, I decided to steal an oversize cone from the parking lot and wear it on my head while riding to the next bar. It was way heavier than I thought and kept falling below my eyes. I have no idea how I didn't wipe out multiple times.

After successfully riding with this on my head, I placed it in front of the main entrance of the
next bar to see if people would respect the cone and use the other door. They did.

Bar #13 - George Murphy’s

Description: A bar located right off a golf course. Lots of polo shirts with pit stains in this place.

Price of a Miller High Life: $3.00 a bottle.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: someone to tell you their bullshit story about how they almost broke 40 on the back nine but missed a couple 3 foot putts because the foursome in front of him didn’t properly repair their ball marks.

Rating: 3 Stars (But only if you’re sitting out on the patio, because drinking outside gives off the illusion that you’re actually doing something productive with your day. “Wow, it looks like somebody got some sun this weekend! Were you working hard out in your yard?” “Oh no, I was just crushing beers on the patio at G. Murhpy’s for about 5 hours and the patio umbrella was broken and wouldn’t stay up.”

Bar #14 - Coach’s Corner

Description: Neighborhood bar that has never given a free drink to anyone, for any reason, ever.

Price of a Miller High Life: $3.00 a bottle. (Though it’s better to buy a bucket of 5 at a time. It isn’t cheaper but the service is so bad, ordering 5 at once makes it easier on the waitress. Not that she appreciates it in any way, shape, or form.)

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: anyone connected, tangentially or otherwise, to Madonna College athletics and want to hear them rehash meaningless games that involve people you either don’t know or don’t give a shit about.

Rating: 1 ½ Stars. This place sucks donkey dick.

Bar #15 - Wintergarden

Description: A town pub with lots of wood furnishings. It is quaint, but highly flammable.

Price of a Miller High Life: n/a (too drunk to write down what we drank or how much it cost.)

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: a change of pace from every other bar in Livonia that is “lame as fuck.”

Rating: 2 Stars. (Gratuitious, but someone bought us a shot here, and I’m pretty sure that there weren’t any roofies in it.)

Somebody bought us shots along with our beers at this place. That probably wasn't a good idea because I'm pretty sure all of us felt like how Peter looks in this picture:

Of course I"m still okay to ride my bike, why?

Bar #16 - The Bench Pub

Description: An old school, hole-in-the-wall bar and proud of it. Recently remodeled to highlight their multiple dartboards, which is perfect for the numerous dart leagues and tournaments that they host.

Price of a Miller High Life: $2.75 a bottle.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: An internet jukebox so that you can torment a blue collar crowd that doesn’t appreciate the music of Michael McDonald or Kenny Loggins and just want to play darts while rockin' out to Nickelback..

Rating: 1 ½ Stars. Fuck darts.

Bar #17 - O'Malley's

Description: An authentic Irish bar in the heart of Livonia that pays tribute to its heritage by having a regular karaoke to Don Henley songs on Saturday nights.

Price of a Miller High Life: Just Car Bombs, ma'am.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: A place with two apostrophes in its name. This place doesn't have much to offer.

Rating: 1 ½ Stars.

I'm pretty sure 5 Mile did 3 or 4 Car Bombs at this bar - no joke.

Bar #18 - The Stables (aka St. Able's)

Description: A windowless, smoky bar that is saved by it's unbelievable service. The waitstaff and bartenders are the best in the biz, people, and I'm not bullshitting. .

Price of a Miller High Life: $2.75 a bottle.

The perfect bar if you’re looking for: a Stablizer, which is a shot created by The Stables that is a concoction that includes a number of liquors, juices, and even some Miller High Life. It is highly recommended that you down one of these bad boys to "get stable" before your long drive home.

Rating: 4 ½ Stars.

The End of the Road

We made it to Stables and downed our Stablizers and waited in the parking lot for our friends and family to pick our drunk asses and our bikes up. A few people went straight home. Andy tried to head home on his bike, but was heading in the completely opposite direction and we were all too drunk to give a shit and let him know. We figured he'd figure it out sooner or later. The rest of us went back to George Murphy's to attend a benefit night that our friends were throwing. I'm happy to report that 4 hours later, the cone I had put in front of the main entrance was still in place and people were still using the other doors into the place because of it. I'm unhappy to report that 3 hours after that, I ended up throwing up. A lot. And through my nose. Somehow 12 hours of hard drinking turned my stomach into a neti pot.

Even with my night of barfing, I still don't think I ended up as bad as poor Peter, who suffered some injuries after taking a tumble off his bike. I'm sure his arm and leg will be healed in time for next year's rally, though I don't know if his liver (or any of our livers) will be. There's only one way to find out.

Final Booze 'n Bike Rally Tally:
22 Miles
17 Bars
15 Beers
15 Bikes
10 Hours of Drinking
3 Irish Car Bombs
2 Accidents
1 Stabilizer
1 Mystery Shot
1 Party Store
1 Debilitating hangover

Trade Deadline Look-alikes

2009-08-03T01:53:00.010-04:00

The trade deadline for Major League Baseball recently passed and quite a few well-known players ended up getting traded. Many of the players traded bear an uncanny resemblance to some famous (and semi-famous) movie stars. As a public service, I've compiled a list of the players recently traded that have famous look-alikes

Jarrod Washburn - Jason Sudeikis.Jason Sudeikis has a recurring role on SNL as one half of an "A-Hole" couple that brings misery to innocent people. Hopefully Washburn will be able to make Detroit Tiger fans forget about Nate Robertson and Dontrelle Willis, the two A-Holes that have contributed absolutely zero this year.

Matt Holliday - Ethan Embry

Some of you may be wondering who Ethan Embry is. He was the bass player in "That Thing You Do," and the dude who was pining for Jennifer Love Hewitt in "Can't Hardly Wait." He was also in one of the worst movies ever that your wife/girlfriend probably loves: "Empire Records."

Jake Peavy - Danny McBride

If Jake Peavy was awesome, he would grow a mullet and mustache so that he looked like the spitting image of Kenny Powers, the washed up has-been pitcher Danny McBride plays in the HBO series "Eastbound and Down." As long as he started eating at White Castle on a regular basis, he'd fit right in with the rest of the south side of Chicago and endear himself to White Sox fans.

Cliff Lee - Bill Campbell

Cliff Lee looks so much like the guy who beat the crap out of Jennifer Lopez in the movie "Enough" that that might be enough for the violence-loving retards in Philly to embrace him no matter how poorly he pitches.

Scott Rolen - Randy Quaid

Scott Rolen doesn't know why they call it "Hamburger Helper" because it does just fine by itself. He also wants to know how you want your bun, light or dark?

Roy Halladay - Buford from "Raising Arizona"

I know that Roy Halladay didn't end up getting traded, but he was a big part of the trade talks and rumors and looks so much like the mouth-breathing kid whose family visits H.I. and Ed that I just had to include him. Hit the deck, boy!

Creepy Ginger Kid.

2009-06-23T09:30:00.004-04:00

Talk about losing the lottery. You have a kid. He turns out to be red-headed. And fat. And creepy looking. AND he eats ice cream like this. In public. And on TV. This kid would crush a Ziggy Piggy.

Stories of Escalating Grossness.

2009-06-22T17:17:00.004-04:00

I know that I haven't been updating this site for a while, but rest assured that I've still been collecting stories about my batshit crazy coworker. Please know that what I'm about to recount is jaw-droppingly inappropriate and pretty vulgar. Just remember that all of these stories occurred at work and in public.

A few months ago I was giving Batshit Crazy Lady shit about how much crap she had in and around her desk. She still had all the stuff I listed in a previous post, but now she had added a Halloween mask (even though its spring), a Santa hat (again, its spring), empty donut boxes, and a Thighmaster.

"Why in the world do you have a Thighmaster here? Take. It. Home! I haven't see you use it once since you've been here."

"I know, but I'm going to start to use it. Plus it's really good for my Kegels."

"Cankles?" I ask, already knowing that wasn't what she had said, but still hoping otherwise.

"No, Kegels," she replied.

"Jesus."

"Do you know what Kegels are?"

"Ugh, yes, I know what they-"

"They are exercises for vaginal muscles."

"I SAID I KNOW! You're really grossing me out."

"Are you going to report me to HR?" She's not worried, just curious.

"No, just stop telling me shit like that. Especially right before lunch."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'll stop...it's just that they are really beneficial -"

"Seriously? You're still talking?"

"Okay, okay. I just wanted you to know, that's all."

"Thanks for the tip."

***

It was shortly after this conversation/horrifying revelation that I requested to move my desk away from hers. My boss, knowing full well how crazy Batshit Crazy Lady actually is, complied. But it wasn't long before her craziness crept back into my life.

At my new desk I sit next to a guy name T. He is easy going and laid back and we're about the same age so we get along pretty well. T and I both work a later shift than the rest of the people in our department. Unfortunately so does BCL. About a month ago, towards the end of the day, I see T and another coworker I'm friends with, Elle, both talking to BCL. They both keep laughing like crazy and covering their faces with their hands. They were laughing harder than I'd ever seen either of them laugh before. Though this piqued my interest to see what was so fucking funny, I knew better to get involved since they were talking to BCL, which is never good. Then an IM pop up on my computer screen. It is from Elle.

Elle: This lady is out of control. LOL. Can you hear what she's saying?
Me: Nope, and I don't think I wanna hear...she's crazy.
Elle: For real
Me: Yeah, I'm not joking. She's nuts.
Elle: And dirty too. You wouldn't believe what she's sayin
Me: I'd believe it. I used to sit next to her, remember?
Elle: She told T she only dates black guys.

(Both T and Elle are black. BCL is white. In case you were curious.)

Me: Of course she does.
Elle: And that she enjoys facials!
Me: Shut up. She didn't say that.
Elle: YES SHE DID!!!!!!!!
Me: Then she didn't mean it like that. She's retarded. She probably just meant massages.
Elle: No she meant it like the other facial
Me: Seriously, why would she even tell you guys that?
Elle: I don't fucking know! It's not like I asked her if she liked em
Me: Jesus, she is disgusting. What did she say when you and T started laughing?
Elle: She asked us what was so funny.
Me: She has to be retarded. Has to be.
Elle: I can't stop laughing...shes STILL talking about it!
Me: You're gonna make me throw up.

BCL then steps away from her desk and T comes back to his desk. T doesn't waste any time.

"That lady is off the chain! For real, man..."

"Yeah, I heard. Elle was IMing me about it. You know she couldn't have meant it like that."

"What? You mean about the facials?"

"Yeah, there's no way."

"Oh, there's no doubt she meant it like that. 'Cuz she kept going on about it. We started laughing when she first said it 'cuz it's so gross and like why would you tell your coworkers that? I mean I was already creeped out when she looked right at me and told me that she only dates black guys. And then she goes and tells us she likes facials. Me and Elle just busted up and she asks why we're laughing. She goes 'what is so funny about liking it when they finish on my face?' I thought Elle was gonna pee in her pants.

"You know...every time I think BCL can't possibly put a grosser image in my head, she comes back and does. What is her problem?

T stops laughing and gets serious. "Oh, she's got more than just one problem. Believe that."

***

Things were relatively slow after that, until the 60 year-old southern lady that sits next to plopped down at her desk on Thursday in a huff and exclaimed, "I don't even want to tell you what just happened in the bathroom!"

My response was immediate. "Yes you do. What happened?"

"It's Batshit Crazy Lady. That girl is sick."

"Oh dear God, what happened?"

"I can't tell you, it's just gross."

Now, I realized that I was talking to an old lady and was well aware that her idea of gross was probably much different than mine. Someone cutting a loud fart could be gross to her, while for my group of friends, cutting a loud fart is a proud accomplishment, worthy of a mass text informing everyone of the loudness and smelliness of said fart. So I knew I had to clarify what my co-worker meant by "gross."

"What, did she have some loud gas or something? Or a stinky doodie?" (My coworker is a sweet old lady I didn't want to offend her with coarse language, so I tried to be as polite as possible.)

"No, it wasn't that. C'mon that's what people do in the bathroom."

"Did she go number 2 and then try to show you?"

"Come on now, you're bein' silly."

"Well then what'd she do? Was she outside of the stall or inside it?"

"She was in the stall and me and another gal were both washing our hands at the sinks. And she was being...loud."

"Haha, she was being loud while pooping?

My coworker winces a little, raises her eyebrows and shakes her her head no.

I stop laughing when I realize she wasn't talking about pooping. "No!"

Her head switches from going left and right to up and down.

"NO!"

"I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know the gal next to me and she just looks at me and goes..."

My coworker then mouths "what." "the." "fuck?"

"Jim, she was being loud."

"Noooo!"

"I finally called out for her and asked if everything was alright in there and she says 'ohhhh yeeeaaaah.' Just like that. I can't even tell you what else she was saying. I just can't. I can't repeat it. That girl's a sick puppy though. I'll tell you that much!"

"Oh my god, that is disgusting. Who does that?"

"That's the worst part, Jim. She comes out of the stall and says "Whew, what a thrill!" And I make a face, because come on now. And she says ''You've never done that before?' Like I'm the weird one. I tell ya, she is NOT right."

"What did the other lady do who was in there? What'd she say about it?"

"I don't know. I'd never seen her before. She probably quit and went home after that."

I then ask her if she's going to tell our boss about it or go to HR. She gives me a look and says "Honey, if you're thinking I'm ever repeating that story to anyone else, you're more cuckoo than she is. She's gross and I'm done talking about it. She's gonna end up doing something around the wrong person, and then you watch the shit hit the fan."

I can't wait.

Know Your Audience

2009-05-28T00:35:00.000-04:00

Mother

2009-05-10T15:54:00.004-04:00

Mother,

On this day I wanted to give you thanks for telling me not to walk Glen Danzig's way, and for telling me not to hear his words., so I wouldn't hear what they mean and what they say.

Mother, thank you for trying to keep me in the dark for life and for trying to hide me from the waiting world.

Mother, thank you for telling me not to hold Glen Danzig's hand. And telling me not to understand. Oh Mother, thanks.

But Mother? Glen Danzig is not going to see the light. And if you want to find hell with him, he'll show you what it's like...until you're bleeding.

So Mother, don't bang heads with him, okay?

Love,

JFunk

A Night of Culture

2009-04-05T22:54:00.003-04:00

I had to work yesterday for the first half of the MSU game, but was looking to go somewhere to watch the second half. I had talked to my buddy Kevin earlier in the day and he told me that he was at the bar with 5 Mile and Fake Jason Bennett. (He is fake because when my group of friends met him we already had a friend whose name was Jason Bennett and we needed a way to differentiate them, so we started calling him Fake Jason Bennett. But some of my friends like 5 Mile and Hodges and Bubs knew Fake Jason Bennett before they knew the Jason Bennett I was friends with, so they started calling him Real Jason Bennett. So basically we’ve made it more confusing than it ever was and accomplished nothing but giving the two Jason Bennett’s nicknames neither of them want.)

ANYWAY, I decide to meet them up at the White Rhino, where they’ve been since 2. (I didn’t realize this until I got there.) When I show up, the place is packed and Kevin is nowhere to be found. From the look and sound of it, 5 Mile and Fake Bennett aren’t the only ones who’ve been drinking all day. Everyone was loud and obnoxious. The place is the epitome of a Redford bar and has been a neighborhood staples for decades. (It’s the old Bullwinkles.) If you didn’t know where the bar was located and had to guess based only on the clientele, Redford would be one of your first guesses. I find 5 Mile and Fake Bennett sitting at the rail, and immediately realize they are both on walking blackouts.

5 Mile tries to put me in a headlock as his way of saying hello and Fake Bennett just keeps calling me a “sandbagging son of a bitch” and laughing. I fight off 5 Mile and tell him to relax only to have him stare at me – his eyes glazed like Krispy Kremes – and ask “what?” like he doesn’t know he's acting like an asshole. I can already tell this is going to be a shit show.

After telling me that Kevin left awhile ago to eat dinner with his family, 5 Mile gets up from his seat and lets me sit down so that he can stand and hit on the lady next to him. She was in her late 30’s and a bleach blonde. She had big boobs, but her gut made her look like she was doing an impression of a beanbag chair. Fake Bennett agreed with my assessment. How do I know this? Because he kept whispering it to me every 5 minutes. And by whispering I mean yelling.

“She’s got nice tits, but man I can’t handle that spare tire she’s got on her gut. Do you see it, JFunk? That gut? So many rolls dude! Big tits though!” I kept agreeing with Fake Bennett as quietly as possible, because I was pretty sure the Beanbag Lady or her boyfriend - who looked like he loved to fight and was good at it - would hear us considering that she was sitting right next to me and he was one seat away. But the close proximity of the boyfriend didn’t dissuade Fake Bennett’s brutally honest critiquing or 5 Mile’s blatant flirting. I don’t anything could’ve. They were fucking hammered and in their own world.

After about 20 minutes, Fake Bennett is nearly falling asleep. His girlfriend keeps elbowing him whenever his head is about to hit the bar. 5 Mile is still talking to Beanbag and has now made friends with her boyfriend and his meathead buddy. 5 Mile then decides that he and Fake Bennett need to drink the Raspberry Bombs that have been in front of them since I got there. Fake Bennett’s girlfriend wakes him up so he can do his. I watch Bennett down his shot and I grimace in sympathy. Fake Bennett immediately winces and puts hits head down on the bar and rests it in the crook of his bent elbow. He waits a beat and then gets up and race-walks to the bathroom.

I turn around to face 5 Mile to let him know that Bennett is about to barf only to see 5 standing like a zombie, with his chin completely covered in puke. I look down and there is a mess at his feet. He’s just standing there doing nothing.

“Jesus, 5 that’s disgusting. Wipe that shit off,” I yell as I throw a stack of napkins at him. He leaves the napkins, grabs the hard plastic mug that the Raspberry Bombs came in and proceeds to use the rim to scrape and collect the puke off his chin. Then he quietly pukes/spits a little bit more into the mug and places it on the back edge of the bar for the bartender to take it. He does this with no sense of urgency or embarrassment. At this point, I’m ready to throw up from the display. I pour some of my beer in the mug to cover up the puke a bit and give 5 some more napkins.

5 Mile then tries to explain his actions. “That wasn’t a Raspberry Bomb. That was a Cherry Bomb. I fucking hate cherry. I can’t do it. I fucking hate cherry. I don’t like anything cherry…except Hostess Cherry Pies. Seriously, I can’t do anything cherry – that’s why I puked.” Yeah, it was that cherry flavoring that made him puke, not the fifty shots he did before that. Fake Bennett returns from the bathroom and announces that he threw up 7 times. 5 Mile decides to celebrate this news by ordering another round of shots – this time making sure they are raspberry and not cherry.

For the rest of the game things went relatively smoothly. 5 Mile kept hitting on the Beanbag Lady and Fake Bennett had stopped dozing off and was now concentrating on trying to break up with his girlfriend. When the game ended, 5 Mile tried to collect on a $20 bet he made with the boyfriend of the beanbag before the game that State would win. They were joking around with each other about the bet, and the guy put a twenty on the bar under 5 Mile’s beer. 5 Mile didn’t notice this, so Fake Bennett leaned over and grabbed it when no one but me was looking.

“Bennett, put it back, man. You’re gonna start a fight over that,” I pleaded.

“Naw, it’s fine. They won’t even notice. I’ll use it to pay the tab anyway.”

He then filled out a Keno form and gave it to the bartender along with the twenty.

“How is that paying the tab?”

“Well once we win, it will.”

And that’s when I tapped out. I’d had enough. It was only a matter of time until one of these two drunks pissed the wrong person (or each other) off and cause trouble, and I didn’t want any part of it. There was no way I was going to catch up to them buzz-wise – not that I wanted to – and it’s no secret how little fun it is to be the only sober person in a group of drunks. So I waited until 5 was in deep conversation about Michigan versus State, and Fake Bennett was telling his girlfriend that he could kick her ass at ping pong and I got out of my seat and bee lined to my car, never looking back.

I don't hear from 5 again until this afternoon. We had the following text message exchange:

5 Mile: What a damn train wreck yesterday was. Holy hell.
Me: No shit. You were a mess.
5 Mile: Shit happens. It was all pretty much a disaster.
Me: Where'd you end up?
5 Mile: We went to Doc's and then stayed at Bennett's.
Me: How'd you get to Doc's? Do you remember it at all?
5 Mile: We got there by cab. I remember being at the bar and all that, just not leaving Doc's. End of the nite was a blur. Did make out with a twiz at Doc's tho...weird.
Me: I bet that twiz loved the taste of your vomit.
5 Mile: It was masked with beer and alcohol. She didn't stand a chance of knowing.
Me. So solid by you.
5 Mile: I'm a very clever lad.
Me: Ha. Classy too.
5 Mile. I'm all about class. It's my new thing.
Me: And now you get to be classy all over again on Monday nite.
5 Mile: It won't get rowdy like that again tomorrow. I can't do it if I wanna survive. Would make the week be garbage.
Me: Word.

Don't Call It a Comeback

2009-04-03T00:20:00.002-04:00

Sorry for the lack of content on here recently. Here's a video montage of a bunch of TV reporters getting hurt to tide you over until I put up some original content.

He's a Chucker.

2009-03-04T20:38:00.002-05:00

A ways back I linked to the prank war between these two dudes. This is the latest prank. It's pretty damn good.

The Worst Thing Ever.

2009-02-24T21:00:00.007-05:00

While I was in Phoenix for the weekend, I met up with my dad's old college buddy, Doc. He's a great guy who is a ton of fun to hang out with and gets along with anyone. I had no doubt in my mind that he and my friends would get along swimmingly. We met up for drinks during the day at a Mexican restaurant and sat in their outdoor patio so we could enjoy the sun and the view. We didn't realize at the time how horrible the view would become.

It seemed like every female in the Phoenix had some ink on her skin, and our waitress at this place was no exception. She had a tattoo on her bicep, one on the back of her shoulder, and a big tramp stamp on her lower back with a bunch of writing on it. Because we're curious like cats, we struck up a conversation with the waitress and asked her what the writing was on her tattoo. She replied that it read either "Live, Laugh, Love" or "Live, Love, Laugh" but that she couldn't remember the exact order. She explained that her father used to always wear a necklace with this saying so when he died, she, her sister, and her brother all got the same tattoo with those words. I asked if her brother also got the tattoo on his lower back. He did not. I also wondered how she didn't know the correct order of the words considering that her dad wore the necklace and all the time and that she had a permanent tattoo of it. You would think you would know exactly what you're getting tattooed on your body. I kept these thoughts to myself.

Being the nice guy that he is, Doc kept talking with the waitress despite the depressing fact that her dad was dead. As he was talking I saw an old man with hugh, thigh-high leather boots on walking towards us. Trying to lighten the mood, I interrupted Doc, pointed out the old man, and asked the waitress if her dad had ever owned boots like that. Doc, 5 Mile, Willis, and I all started laughing, but the waitress didn't.

"That's nothing," she informed us. "Wait until you see his moose knuckle."

Doc turns to her and asks what she is talking about - and then recoils. He had just seen what she was talking about. We all turned to look at what had caused such a strong reaction - and then we all reacted the same way.

It was horrendous. I've never seen anything like it. It was a physical oddity.

"How did you know he was going to have...that?" I asked the waitress.

"He's a regular. He comes in here wearing that every week." she replied nonchalantly.

Doc was in shock. "I can't believe what I'm seeing. No one will believe it. Oh my god, this is unbelievable.

Doc continued, "I'm older than you and I think I've lived a full life. I've never, never, NEVER, seen anything like that. Goddammit. This guy just ruined my day. I might move back to Detroit 'cause of this guy. Willis, go over there and tell him I'll pay him $20 to sit on the other side of the table. I have the money too."

Willis declined and told Doc to do his own dirty work. Doc kept ranting.

"This guy has made me speechless. And you know me - I'm a pretty verbose and gregarious guy. And. I'm. Speechless. I'm ready to puke. I've lost my respect for humanity. I wish I was a member of the animal kingdom so I wouldn't have to know or experience this moose knuckle right now. I wish I didn't even know what a moose knuckle was. God, I hate that I'm seeing this. I can't even believe what I'm seeing. No one will believe it. No one. They'll just say "oh Doc's just exaggerating again.' Oh my god, this is unbelievable. Is this why Willis wanted to come here?"

I was in agreement with Doc. No one would believe us, and words couldn't accurately describe the monstrous spectacle we were subjected to. So I took out my digital camera and covertly took a few pictures. I've posted them below. You may not want to view them. Only scroll down if you want to be horrified.

I told you.

Summer

2009-02-23T17:46:00.002-05:00

I spent this past weekend visiting my buddy WillisB in Phoenix. 5 Mile and Bubs also made the trip down, so we had a full wrecking crew. On Saturday night, we were at place called the Sandbar, and it was pretty jamming. Like any place that has a packed house there were a fair share of good looking people as well as a decent amount of fatties. At one point in the night two of these fatties barrel up to the bar and push me out of their way so they can order a drink. These girls were short and squat, both pushing two bills easy. 5 Mile sees this happen and looks at me, his eyes wide open in shock and asks "Can you believe that shit?"

I responded with a shrug of my shoulders, "At least I'm not stuck talking with her."

And then one of the girls in the group we were hanging out with decides to push me in to the fat girl next to me. I turn to the lady and immediately apologize explaining that I had said something sassy to a girl and that she had pushed me into her. I then said sorry again and went to turn away.

The lady grabbed me by the arm to stop me, because she had something she wanted to tell me: "You know fat girls like me get hit on more often than skinny ones do."

I just stared back at her. "Oh. Okay." I tried to turn to go again, but again she stopped me.

"You know my little 3-year-old girl looks just like Michele Tanner from 'Family Matters.'"

I tell her that Michel Tanner wasn't in "Family Matters" and that she probably means Urkel. She repeats that her kid looks like Michele Tanner from "Family Matters." Bill and 5 ask to see a picture, so that they can drag this out as long as possible.

I tell her again that she is mistaken and that her kid probably looks like Urkel.

"My kid doesn't look like fucking Urkel, alright?" she yells.

"What do you have against Urkel," I joke back. "Do you hate black people or something?"

"My kid is black."

Of course she is. Why wouldn't this conversation become more awkward?

I felt so stupid. I never knew that Danny Tanner's dead wife was black and that Michele Tanner was half-black. Before I could apologize, the lady continued.

"And my kid is going to be the next Beyonce, so I'm not going to have to work no more."

I was at a loss for words. I apologized again for bumping into her and told her that I hoped she would enjoy her night. But she wasn't done. And neither were the rest of my friends, who were enjoying the weirdness of this conversation too much to let it end. 5 Mile asks what her name is. She answers "Summer," and turns back to me. It's like she wants to make me jealous of her and her life.

"Do you know what Summer even means," she asks me.

"Um, the opposite of winter?" I reply. At this point I'm ready to jump off of a bridge to avoid this whack job. She ends up telling me what she thinks it means (which I forget, because I didn't care), then goes back to bragging about her kids. We then had this exchange:

Summer: My other baby's daddy used to be a model for Calvin Klein, so my 10 year-old boy is gonna be a big time model too, so I'm gonna be rich.

Me: Awesome.

Summer: But he's a midget.

She isn't joking.

Me: You call your son a midget? Like to his face? Don't you think that's mean?

Summer: Well, he is a midget!

Me: I know, but that's not really nice to keep calling him one.

Summer: He don't care. 'Cause he's an underwear model.

5 Mile: Really? So am I!

Summer: No, he actually models underwear.

5 Mile: So do I. I just modeled mine for the 15 girls waiting in line for the bathroom!

Summer: No, but he is for real. Do you want to see pictures?

Me: No, I don't think I need to be seen in public looking at pictures of 10-year-old boys in their underwear.

Summer: You know I could've modeled. I used to be 110 pounds.

Me: Well, I used to be in the 5th grade. Things change.

Before she could reply, I left her with 5 Mile. I think 5 Mile ended up making out with her. Or leaving shortly after me. I can't remember.

Best Bingo in Scrabble Ever.

2009-02-15T03:04:00.003-05:00

It was worth 76 points.

Happy Valentines Day

2009-02-14T16:59:00.006-05:00

What are you, the drummer?

2009-02-06T14:49:00.003-05:00

Sometimes when I watch Letterman, I get the feeling that he is just a miserable fuck who is just as unhappy/bored with his job as anyone else. Because of this, it's always interesting to see him get fired up about something (like when he recently lit into the impeached governor of Illinois in an interview) or see him actually enjoy his own show, like in the two clips below.

I like this song a lot. The string section makes it particularly sweet. Those guys really get into it. I haven't seen a violinist rock out that hard since the final scene from "Revenge of the Nerds." I guess Dave hasn't either, because he fucking dug it too.

The Gaslight Anthem impressed Letterman as well. It's not hard to see why. The song rocks pretty hard. And if Billy Joel taught us anything, it's that you can't go wrong writing a song about good people dying young.

Hi, Billy Mays Here...

2009-01-31T14:42:00.001-05:00

Word.

2009-01-28T23:30:00.001-05:00

Ray Pruit speaks the truth:

Batshit Crazy Lady

2009-01-23T11:24:00.006-05:00

So with my new job, I've recently moved my desk into a pod that I share with 3 other people. Each of us take up one corner and have our backs to each other. While I'd rather work in a private office by myself, with a door that locks, this setup isn't too bad. Except that I now sit by a lady who is batshit crazy. And doesn't hide it.

I first came into contact with her in meeting a few months ago. The meeting was about some stupid and simple change in procedure that everyone in the meeting already knew about. But we still had to sit through it so we could sign a paper saying we completed the training. The guy who was running the meeting knew that we already knew what was up, and we knew that we knew what was up so everyone was in unspoken agreement to burn through the thing as quickly as possible. Except for Batshit Crazy Lady. First off, she brought in a big notebook and was furiously taking notes in it - before the meeting even started. What the hell could she have been writing? Was she taking attendance? Did she think she was Harriet the fucking spy or something? Anyway, that immediately irritated me. So the dude running the meeting says he's gonna try to run through this as quickly as possible, and to keep things from getting bogged down, he asks that the group saves any questions until he is finished. He starts off explaining that this new process change needs to be done by everyone on the 1st of the month and on the 15th of the month. He says it as clear as day. BCL's hand - the one she's not scribbling notes with - immediately goes up. The speaker hesitates and then asks how he can help her.

"So we need to do this on the 1st of the month and on the 15th of the month?" BCL asks.

"Yes, or the next business day, should either of those dates fall on a weekend or holiday."

"And we do this every month?"

"Yes."

"On the 1st and the 15th."

This is when the audible sighs started. (From people other than me, believe it or not.) Seriously though, the room was completely silent when the speaker first said "the 1st and 15th." And it's not like we were in some huge auditorium. We were in a small office space, filled with less than 20 people. And the word "or" doesn't even sound like the word "and." This wasn't anything to be confused by. The speaker confirms again, that that is what he said. And BCL starts to ask another question. Keep in mind the speaker has gotten into about 90 seconds of his presentation so there was nothing that had to be clarified. The speaker again asks that everyone wait to ask any questions that they might have until the end of the meeting.

"But I still have a question about-"

A manager (apparently her manager) interrupts and tells her that he will meet with her after the meeting to answer any questions she still has. At that point I thanked God that I didn't have to deal with this lady on a daily basis.

Well, God ended up shitting on me and put me in the same workspace as her and in the same department. Her desk is now right next to mine. And it is as bad as I knew it would be.

This woman is socially retarded. You know how when people ask you how you're doing at work, they don't really mean it? Of course you know that. You realize it is just a way of saying hello. The person isn't taking a survey and doesn't actually care how you are doing. Just like when you ask someone at work how it's going, you don't want to hear any answer other than "good," "great," or "fine." It is understood that no one really gives a shit about how other people are doing at work. And if they actually do give a shit, they don't want to get into it while walking past your desk on their way to take a piss. Well this lady doesn't realize that. Every time my boss stops by to ask us how we're doing, she starts in on some rambling, pointless story.

"Oh, I could be better. Me and my boyfriend - well I don't know if should call him my boyfriend, but he's a guy I've been hanging out with a lot lately - we got into a big fight at Blockbuster last night. He didn't know what to rent, so I was suggesting good movies that I'd seen already, like "Legend of Bagger Vance" or "Rudy," but he wouldn't agree to anything!"

What the hell do you say to that? My response was to crank up the volume in my headphones so I wouldn't have to cringe listening to my boss feign interest in this black hole of a conversation.

And it's not just with greetings. Batshit Crazy Lady has an uncanny ability to make any interaction with her awkward and confusing for everyone in or around the conversation. The other day, one of the ladies I work with had to drop off a document for BCL. The lady dropping off the paper has worked at the company for years, and any sense of humor or frivolity or spark of life in this woman has been stripped away years ago. She is a no-nonsense, dour bitch. It's like she lived through the Great Depression and has never smiled or had fun since. I once sat next to her at a company lunch and as I was getting up to get myself a drink, I asked her if she wanted one because I saw that she didn't have a beverage in front of her. She told me that she didn't need anything because she doesn't drink when she eats. Now, I don't mean she doesn't drink alcohol when she eats. She doesn't drink anything when she eats. Ever. And why is that? "Because my mother didn't allow it growing up." Oh, okay. Not weird at all.

So what does Batshit Crazy Lady do when she is handed this document by this woman? Does she thank her? Of course not! That would be normal, so it doesn't apply. Instead, she asks this lady a question.

"Did you ever know?"

"Excuse me?"

BCL repeats the question, "Did you ever know?"

"Did I ever know what?" the Depression Lady asks back. She, like everyone else in the workspace has no clue what BCL is talking about.

"Did you ever know that you're my hero?"

That's right. Batshit Crazy Lady quoted a twenty year old Bette Midler song lyric to this woman. Why would she think that this woman knows what the hell she is talking about? She's probably never even listened to music, let alone the shit Bette Midler puts out. This is the same woman who has never had a sip of liquid with a meal in her life because 50 years ago, her mother didn't allow it. The fucking Amish aren't even that strict! No one on the planet would confuse this lady with someone you would pal around with or make retarded, awkward, jokes to for no reason. Except for the genius sitting next to me.

Then there is her desk. Holy shit, what a mess. When she moved in to the desk next to me, it took her 6 hours to move in all of her crap. 6 hours. It seems impossible, right? I mean how can it take someone that long to move from one cubicle to another. How much stuff can there be? Apparently, there can be a lot of stuff, if you don't limit it to things that are work-related.

She has a Sudoku book that is roughly the size of the Yellow Book pages. She has a box of Kleenex, a roll of paper towels, a box of handi-wipes, a bottle of hand sanitizer, a bottle of hand cream, a bottle of body moisturizer, a jar filled with hard candy, a basket filled with miniature chocolate bars, and a bunch of bananas. These are all on display around her computer on her desk. There are more things in her locked drawer, which she has transformed into a makeshit bomb shelter/disaster kit. In the drawer she has bottles of aspirin, Advil, Excedrin, DayQuil, Band-Aids, bandages, an ice pack, a heat patch, 4 cans of tuna fish, a box of crackers, a carton of cigarettes and a ziploc bag filled with about 30 lighters. I only know this, because she has offered me one of everything I've listed, numerous times. I don't know why she doesn't believe me when I tell her that I don't want a banana.

As annoying as this lady is, it's also really depressing. Not depressing in the sense that it's so sad that she's going to have go through life unknowingly bothering everyone she meets. That doesn't depress me, because I don't care about her. It's depressing because when I got promoted to this position I had a fleeting sense of accomplishment and pride. I say fleeting because those feelings disappeared when I realized that this lady got hired for the same position as I did. In the eyes of my company we are the exact same level. They interviewed her, interacted with her, and still found her fit to work the job that I had thought was somewhat hard to obtain. And now we both do the same thing. One of us just uses less bananas while doing it.

Awesome Feedback

2009-01-22T18:09:00.003-05:00

I just received the following email about my John Tesh post from some wonderfully intelligent reader named Kathy:

AFTER SEARCHING FOR JOHN TESH, I FOUND THE SONG DEDICATED TO HIS MOTHER

"MOTHER I MISS YOU" HE IS EXCELLENT ON THE PIANO .....PERHAPS YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO

REAL MUSIC SUCH AS THIS ...WHEN YOU HAVE THE TIME , YOUR CHOICE IN MUSIC LOL IS VERY

BLEAK , YOU LISTEN TO OLD METALLICA , ETC ...AND OTHERS THAT REALLY ARE CRAPPY

R U A LOOSER ???? YES

Initially, I was going to dismiss this as some random email written by a moron. Then I realized that since Kathy wrote in all capital letters she must feel very strongly about her opinions, so the least I could is to take the time to consider her point of view. Then, I remembered that she likes John Tesh, which means her opinion means shit, so I decided to post this and make fun of her instead. Now who's the "looser," Kathy?

Hoagies and Grinders.

2009-01-15T00:02:00.000-05:00

Ever since one of the best shows in the history of television ("Kid Nation") ended, I've been searching for a show to take its place. If the show "The Principal's Office" is anywhere close to as awesome as this clip, then I may have found a suitable replacement. It looks like the principal is taking their shit just for the benefit of the cameras and the students are acting out because of the camera as well, but these two dudes are genuinely funny so I gotta give them credit. It's quite possible that I will no longer use the word "goodbye" in 2009 and just use these guys' parting line instead.

Like Sleeve Of Wizard

2009-01-14T01:19:00.006-05:00

By now I'm sure you all have seen the ubiquitous commercial for the Snuggie, which combines a blanket with the worlds largest sleeves. I'm not sure if it has a zipper or buttons in the back, or if you just wear it like a hospital gown. But let's be honest; who doesn't love the feeling you get when wearing hospital gown that it may fall off at any second? It's the perfect thing to wear outside on cold days when you want the warmth of a jacket, but still want something you can trip over. They come in three different colors, which I suggest taking advantage of if you plan on buying more than one, to avoid looking like you're part of a cult.

Unless you plan on sneaking into a Stonecutter's meeting.

Weekly Links

2009-01-09T20:38:00.007-05:00

Do you remember the "Wonder Years" episode where Kevin sucks at math so his no-nonsense teacher tutors him? If you're any kind of "Wonder Years" fan, you fuckin' better. So after the tutoring begins, things are going great. But then the teacher skips out on the last tutoring session right before the final exam, so Kevin throws a hissy and tanks the final on purpose. Then the teacher dies over the weekend. And Kevin rightfully feels like a piece of dump because he realizes that the teacher didn't ditch him, he was just too busy getting his ass kicked by cancer. But because this is Kevin's world and we're all just living in it, Kevin can't possibly fathom that something could be more important than teaching him how to factor polynomials. Then the principal says that before the teacher died, he left a new final for Kevin to take. Then Kevin really felt like a shithead, because he sees how much the teacher cared about his job and about Kevin. So an inspired Kevin retakes the test and dedicates it to his fallen teacher. Then the show plays a sad song and ends on a memoriam picture of the teacher from Kevin's yearbook. It was a sad ending and I'm not ashamed to admit it that one may get a bit teary if they aren't careful. You can watch the very end of the episode here. Anyway, the guy who played the teacher just died in real life. So now you can really let the waterworks go.

This report says that Donna is going to be showing up on the new "90210." I fucking hate Donna. She's the worst. But I love her ex-boyfriend, Ray Pruit, for obvious reasons. Now you can follow Ray on a daily basis.

You shoulda put a ring on it.

Here's another kid dancing, schooling a mascot at a basketball game. No, not the white kid, I'm talking about the black kid after him.

Here in Michigan, we don't have Sonic Burger's but we still have to sit through all of their commercials. So, I totally pick up what this girl is laying down.

Best customer ever.

2009-01-05T21:30:00.003-05:00

Next week I start my new job at the Company. Apparently my customer service skills are so awesome that management has determined that I shouldn't waste them by trying to placate deadbeat customers who complain about their service getting disconnected due to nonpayment or by explaining to old milkshakes that the digital cable conversion in February doesn't mean that they have to buy an HDTV.

Instead, I get to deal with the real bitchy customers. The ones who threaten to sue us, or who have contacted the Attorney General, or who threaten to call up the FOX "Problem Solvers." Basically, my job will be to appease the customers who are causing the Company the biggest headaches. Fun, fun, fun.

Anyway, to commemorate my latest ascension up the corporate step-stool, I've decided to reflect back on the best customer call I ever received. As soon as I took the call I knew that I was a part of something special. I started taking notes, so as not to forget anything he said. I had always intended to write up an entry on here detailing the experience, but never got around to it and ended up misplacing the notes.

I found the notes today, and I'm glad I did. What follows is 100% real. I have not embellished for effect.

Me: Thank you for calling, how can I help you?

Customer: Hello? Hello?

Me: Hi, can you hear me?

Customer: Hello? Goddamn it, I hate these Jap-Chink phones! I can't hear shit. HELLO?

The guy sounds old and pretty haggard.

Me (louder): Sir, can you hear me? Hello?

Customer: Oh there ya are. Yeah, I wanna talk to someone about my cable bill.

Me: Okay, I'll be happy to help out with that. (I get his name and number and pull up his account information.) And what about the bill would you like to discuss?

Customer: How come the bill is high? It's horseshit. Did you guys raise the rates or something?

Me: Well sir, our records indicate that your balance for this month is higher than normal because of the pay-per-view charges on the account.

Customer: Are you talking about the "Jane Eats Joe" or "Joe Eats Jane" or whatever that shit is called?

Me: Uhh, yes sir. It appears that the pay-per-view charges were for adult movie titles.

Customer: Well that was my wife - not me! I might as well stick my dick in the TV for all the good those shows do for me.

Me: Okay, well even though you didn't order them, you still are responsible for them since someone in your household did order them.

Customer: Can I pay for that shit right now, over the phone?

Me: Yes, I can either process the payment for you for a $4 fee or I can transfer to you our automated system, which is free of charge.

Customer: So I gotta pay if you take the payment?

Me: Right, but if you do it yourself through the automated system it is free.

Customer: I can wipe my own ass myself too, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna do it!

Me: Okaaay, so you'd like me to take the payment then?

Customer: Yeah, yeah, what do I care about $4?

I take the guy's credit card info and submit the payment.

Me: Okay sir, you're all set. Is there anything else I can help you with today?

Customer: You ever been to Cancun?

Me: No sir, I haven't.

Customer: Good. Don't go. It sucks. Stay the hell out of all the Mexican countries.

Me: Okay, well is there anything else I can -

Customer: The Bahamas.

Me: The Bahamas?

Customer: The Bahamas is the place to go to get pussy.

Me: Hmm, well thanks for the advice.

Customer: But it's not free. You gotta pay for it.

Me: Good to know, thanks for clarifying.

Customer: You understand what I'm saying?

Me: Uh yeah, loud and clear. Things cost money in the Bahamas.

Customer: Naw, I mean are you having trouble understanding how I talk?

Me: Uh, no. I'm hearing you fine.

Customer: Because I don't talk too good because I got my teeth knocked out in a fight a ways back. I'm sure you can understand why, after listening to the way I talk. I got no goddamn patience for people.

Me: Well I couldn't tell. You sounded fine to me. Is there anything else I can help you with today?

30 seconds of silence.

Me: Sir, is there anything else?

Customer: No, no, no, that's all.

Me: Okay, well thank you for calling and I hope you have a good -

Customer: Okay. Rock 'n roll!

Click.

"Seat's Taken!"

2008-12-30T11:38:00.002-05:00

You know who I feel sorry for? Kids that have to walk to school. Not only because walking sucks to begin with, but because they miss out on the cathartic experience of riding a school bus everyday. I didn't appreciate it that much at the time, but looking back on it I now realize how great it was. The ride on the school bus gave slacker kids time to finish their homework before they got to school, allowed the nerds to finish their homework before they got home from school, allowed kids to ride in a vehicle without seatbelts, and allowed kids to do pretty much whatever they wanted.

The school bus was one of the only environments where a huge group of kids had practically no supervision. Think about when you were in the car with your family and how much shit you and your siblings could get away with because your parents were busy driving and couldn't effectively intimidate, punish, or enforce any rules from the front seat. Now multiply the number of kids by 20 and replace your parents with a bus driver. A bus driver that had no regular contact with either your parents or your teachers. A bus driver that got less respect than a substitute teacher and was less feared than a babysitter. A bus driver who wasn't allowed to ground you, hit you, assign extra homework or chores, or punish you in any meaningful way. That was the person in charge. It was essentially 40 kids isolated from the rest of the world with no authority figure anywhere. The only thing missing was a giant conch shell.

When I was one of the younger kids on the bus, I'll admit that it was pretty intimidating being on a bus filled with kids who could run wild. The back of the bus was filled with the older and cooler kids who could ruin your day if they wanted. My goal was to remain as anonymous as possible to avoid attracting any attention so I stayed near the front of the bus. But as each year passed, I'd gradually move closer to the back of the bus until finally I was one of the older kids and took up permanent residence in the back of the bus. Looking back on it, I don't know what Rosa Parks' problem was – the back of the bus was where it was at! It was prime real estate. She really missed out.

The school bus allowed kids to do whatever the hell they wanted, to whomever they wanted. It was a great way to let out pent-up frustration. There was nothing like salvaging a bad day at school by ruining someone else's day. Whether it was sneaking under seats to tie people's shoes together, or hiding their book bags, or throwing shit at cars, there was always something to do to alleviate the stress of the day or to inflict misery on the kids who you hated in school. And I admit that I did more than my fair share of making people miserable.

I didn't start out acting like a total asshole. I started off slowly, trying to gauge how much I could get away with and determining what the other kids on the bus would laugh at. I wasn't a big kid, so I wasn't a bully and didn't want to be one, because I still remembered what it was like to be one of the younger kids. I was a smartass and enjoyed pissing off people that I didn't like. Whenever I'd see people that annoyed me and was forced to be around them, it would ruin my day. I figured it was only fair to make them as miserable as they were making me. So I began to concentrate on doing just that.

There was one girl in particular who I couldn't stand. For the sake of privacy, I'll call her Sarah L. Actually, that's probably too obvious. I'll call her S. Little. I genuinely hated S. Little. She just bugged me to no end. Being a mean little snot, I naturally focused on her looks. I came up with the idea of giving her the nickname of "Shit-dusa." The thinking behind it being that - like Medusa - S. Little was so ugly that if you looked at her, you would turn to shit. Looking back on it, the insult was a little convoluted, but not a bad effort considering I was in the 5^th grade. To make sure everyone on the bus (like the 1^st and 2^nd graders kids) wouldn't have any qualms about adopting the new nickname for S. Little, I changed it to Poop-dusa, so no swearing was involoved. Not to brag, but it was a smart move because the nickname stuck and was a rousing success.

Then one day, Poop-dusa's mother came to my house to tell my mom how mean I was to Poop-dusa. And my mom, in spite of herself, laughed when she heard about the nickname. That was all I needed to realize that my actions on the bus had no real consequences. My confidence grew and my behavior worsened. I mean, I was expecting to be grounded, but all I had to do was stop using the nickname. That was fine by me; my mission had already been accomplished. It's like a guy starting the wave at a baseball game. Once the the wave catches on, it doesn't matter if the originator stops participating in it – the wave continues without him. Poop-dusa was my wave and I couldn't have stopped people from using that nickname even if I had wanted them to. (Which I didn't.)

After being told to lay off of Poop-dusa, I decided to set my sights on a bigger target. Literally. There was a kid on my bus who always bullied a lot of the younger kids. This kid was a year older than me and fat as fuck. He easily outweighed me by a hundred pounds and had a few inches on me as well. He was always disheveled and sweating. Joey was just a gross looking, baby gorilla of a middle schooler.

I decided to take a different approach in dealing with Joey. I would make fun of him and bug him until he reached his boiling point. He would then try to come after me and beat me up. I would jump over seats to avoid him and yell for the bus driver to get her attention. She would see Joey trying to fight me and would get him to stop. If he didn't listen and got a few punches in, she'd make him sit in the front of the bus for a few days. The punches hurt, but it was worth it to get Joey so frustrated and to see all the kids on the bus laugh at him for getting in trouble.

Joey wasn't stupid and quickly realized my intentions and would do his best to ignore me and not play into my trap. That just meant that I had to work harder at pissing him off. The usual stuff about his weight and sloppiness wasn't working on Joey; he'd heard all of it before and was becoming indifferent to the insults. I decided to throw a Hail Mary: I told Joey that my uncle was a cop and that the police were looking for a suspect with a belly button so big that a fist could fit inside it. I then quickly assured Joey that I wouldn't rat him out and that he could trust me. I had finally hit a nerve. Apparently Joey was sensitive about the size of his navel and he was pissed. No amount of yelling from the bus driver got Joey to calm down. I was trapped.

Joey got some good licks in before the bus came to his stop. Personally, I thought I took more punches than I deserved and felt like I should get my money's worth from the beating I just took. So I waited as Joey lumbered toward the bus's door. As soon as he stepped off the last step and onto the street, I yelled out the meanest thing I could think of, as loud as I could, to make sure Joey heard through the open bus windows.

"The only person who has a thicker mustache than Joey is his mother!"

I had taken the nuclear option. I had just insulted his mother and brought attention to the recent appearance of an awkwardly out of place, mid-puberty mustache that Joey had not yet shaved off: the two Achilles heels of any teenage Italian boy.

The bus erupted in laughter and I turned to look out the window to see Joey's reaction and to gloat that I had gotten the final word and come out victorious from our battle. That is when I saw the steam come out of Joey's ears. He was seeing red and charged the bus like a bull. There were still kids piling off the bus when I had yelled my insult and Joey was literally tossing these kids aside so he could climb back up the stairs and kick my ass.

I shrieked instructions to the bus driver. "Close the door! Close the door! Oh, shit…GO! Drive! DRIVE!" But it was too late. Joey had made it back on the bus and was walking right towards me. Accepting my fate, I brought my knees up to my chest and covered my head with my arms as Joey beat the ever-living shit out of me.

After Joey's fists got sore he walked off the bus and the bus driver closed the door. "Why'd you let him back on the bus," I asked.

"I couldn't have stopped him," she explained. "Plus, you deserved it."

I really couldn't argue with that logic.

I don't really have an end to this story, but let's just say that I learned my lesson and never made fun of anyone else ever again. Except the handicapped. And less fortunate. And ugly people. And by ugly, I mean fat. And by fat, I mean chubby. And by chubby, I mean ugly.

Jukebox Hero

2008-12-24T00:51:00.008-05:00

I didn't need another reason to hate John Tesh, but he gave me one anyway: he nearly got me killed the other night because his music sucks so much dick.

My friends and I were at the Bench Pub and were in the midst of being overserved when we decided to pump some money into the jukebox. Naturally, we played our go-to songs: "Lido Shuffle," "Peg," and "What a Fool Believes." We also peppered our playlist with selections from Hall and Oates ("Private Eyes," so that we could employ the requisite single clap – double clap combo), Kenny Loggins, Journey, and other Yacht Rock artists. I know I'm biased, but I thought it was a kick ass string of songs and the best we could do with an internet jukebox that had a limited selection.

Then some dude who looked like the Numa Numa guy starts bitching about how much he hates the "Lido Shuffle" and that that he's never going to be able to get the song out of his head. Then, he has the audacity to rip on Michael McDonald by stealing a line from "40 Year Old Virgin" and warning us that if he hears "Ya Mo Be There" one more time he's going to "Ya mo" burn the bar down.

So I go back to the jukebox and play "Lido Shuffle" four more times.

Then I decided to search for "I Keep Forgettin'" by Michael McDonald. And two selections come up. The first was the exact song I'm looking for. The second was a cover version of the song by John Tesh's band, The John Tesh Project, off their album "Sax on the Beach." And it was an instrumental. I then realized what I had to do.

I picked a bunch of songs that my friends and I thought were funny, but that the majority of people would fine annoying. With one credit left in the machine and with one of the Lido Shuffle's still playing two guys come up to the jukebox to play some music. These dudes were hosses who didn't like they shared my sense of humor. They were more Larry the Cable Guy's kind of audience than they were Zach Galifianakis's.

"How many more songs you got left to pick?"

"I just have one left, then I'm done."

"No more gay shit, okay?"

"Uh, sure...no problem," I replied as I quickly deleted "WHAM" from the search field and replaced it with "Van Halen." I picked a "safe" song and returned to my friends at our table to wait for the crowd's reaction to my playlist.

After the last "Lido Shuffle" finally stops playing, the opening to "I Keep Forgettin'" begins.

And people throughout the bar start nodding their head to the song, pleased to finally hear a song they like. That is until they heard Michael McDonald's vocals kick in. Then they realized they weren't listening to "Regulators" by Warren G, and they didn't appreciate being tricked.

Then the version with John Tesh and his saxophone came on. And that's when the shit started to hit the fan.

The hoss starts to yell. "Is this Kenny Fucking G?" He was incredulous, so I decided not to correct him.

"I thought it said Warren G," I yelled back. "I don't read very well. Sorry!" It didn't quite get the laugh I was expecting. Hoss just shook his head and went back to throwing his darts. I had a feeling he wasn't going to like the rest of the songs I picked. They were as follows:

"Who Let The Dogs Out (Barking Mad Remix)" - Baha Men

I'm sure you'll agree that this remix is much better than the original version.

"Sanford and Son Theme" - Quincy Jones

This is one of the greatest TV theme songs in the world. Why wouldn't you want to hear an extended version of it?

"Since U Been Gone" - Kidz Bop

If you don't want to watch this video (which is understandable), be sure to at least fast forward to the 2:35 mark and check out the little Asian kid freak out after the Tiger does the splits. It's fucking great.

"I'm Real (Murder Inc. Remix)" - Jennifer Lopez featuring Ja Rule

The only reason this song got chosen was because my buddy Willis has a man crush on Ja. For reals.

"Ven Conmigo" - Christina Aguilera

At this point half the bar started booing. It wasn't a good feeling. I began to wonder if I could be a victim of a hate crime even if I wasn't actually gay.

"Ya Mo Be There" - Michael McDonald and James Ingram

And with that, the Numa Numa guy took out a lighter, set a cocktail napkin on fire and dropped it on the floor. People were getting visibly irate and were at their breaking point. "You really played this? Really?" I felt like Pee Wee Herman after he knocked over all the bikes in front of the biker bar.

Luckily, like Pee Wee my last request came up on the jukebox and its non-gayness appeased the crowd and they spared me a beat down. And I didn't even have to dance on top of the bar! God bless Van Halen and their hit Panama and fuck John Tesh for even thinking he's on Michael McDonald's level and inspiring this bad idea in the first place.

Alan Almond Alternatives

2008-12-16T18:50:00.002-05:00

John Tesh sucks. If you've had the misfortune of hearing his nightly syndicated radio show you know what I'm talking about. It's the worst. He plays music you normally hear at the dentist office and in between songs gives news about "topics that are important to your life." Usually this involves providing retarded workplace and job tips like "when it comes to your resume, write down several career achievements that you’re proud of," or "to keep your workspace germ-free, wipe your keyboard down with Clorox wipes once a week and avoid eating at your desk. " Well no shit, Sherlock.

What's really frustrating is that in the Detroit market, Tesh's shit show replaced a radio show called "Delilah," which is one of the greatest shows in the history of radio. What makes it great is that Delilah doesn't intend for her show to be hilarious, but it always is. The show is geared towards middle-aged housewives who enjoy praying as much as they enjoy Celine Dion. These women call in to Delilah and share personal stories - which Delilah pretends to care about - and then dedicate a song to some long lost love or a relative close to their heart. The stories are usually great because they are so hillbilly, but the best part is that they always have Delilah pick the dedication song for them.

I haven't figured out if it is because these women are so stupid that they can't think of a fitting song, or because Delilah demands it because she sees herself as some expert at it. Plus, Delilah pretty much sucks at finding appropriate songs; it seems like she only plays "Amazed" by Lonestar or "Faithfully" by Journey. No matter what the circumstances surrounding the dedication. It is pure unintentional comedy. And while John Tesh is definitely a joke, he just can't compete.

Ramblin' Man

2008-12-04T14:59:00.002-05:00

- Does anyone ever use the word "fascinating" anymore without being sarcastic? I know I don't.

- Next time you use the bathroom, flick the toilet seat towards you so that gravity takes over it falls onto the bowl without any further assistance. Then marvel at how it sounds like the gavel sound on "Law and Order."

- I just read an article about a lady who, while driving, accidentally ran over and killed someone on a bicycle and then fled the scene. Then a few hours later, she purposely ran into some random dude's car in a parking lot to cover up the damage from the original accident. I know it's wrong, but it pissed me off more when I heard about the second victim than the first. The first victim is dead and that's awful, no doubt. But the second guy is already miserable because he's in a Walgreen's running some bullshit errand, when his car gets fucked up. Intentionally. At least the lady didn't mean to kill the cyclist, but she wrecked this guys car on purpose. What. A. Bitch. Now this guy has to deal with his insurance company and her insurance company and with all the horseshit that comes with it. Ugh. I bet at some point the dude from Walgreen's wishes he was the one on the bike instead.

- Fuck snow. I hate shoveling it. I hate walking through it to get to my car. I hate driving in it. I hate brushing it off my car. And more than anything, I hate that no matter what I do, when I open the driver's side door, snow ALWAYS falls right onto my goddamn seat. Because sitting in a wet, freezing, seat is just awesome. Someone needs to invent something to prevent this from happening. And then give one to me for free. Because I deserve it.

- I was at a high school reunion last week and when people asked a friend of mine what he'd been up to he kept a straight face and replied with "Well I just became the night manager at Long John Silver." It was hilarious. I thought it was the greatest conversation ender ever. Then a few days later I heard somebody talking about how their doctor just told them that they were suffering from an irritated anus. That probably wins. Unless, you combine them.

Oh What's Up, Peg?

2008-12-01T01:21:00.002-05:00

Back when the movie "Almost Famous" came out, I read an article on Cameron Crowe and he mentioned that ever since high school he's made himself a mixtape once a month. He would fill each tape with whatever songs he was listening the most to at that time. So each mixtape was a soundtrack to a specific time in his life. When I read this I immediately became mad at myself and jealous of him for coming up with such an awesome idea.

I haven't made mixtapes as nearly as often as Cameron Crowe, but I've tried to at least a few times a year. The results are enjoyable and I highly recommend it. Especially if you are anything like my friends and get stuck on songs and play them endlessly until we find a new one to glom on to.

If you were a part of my life at all this past weekend, it his very likely you heard one of the following songs. Because my friends and I played them non-stop. As far as I'm concerned, nothing can top these three songs. They are perfect. These songs were made to sing along to drunkenly and to party to. If you happen to have any of these on vinyl, then batten down the hatches, roll up your sleeves, and open a can of High Life, because you're about to party like it's 1977. And people in '77 didn't fuck around. You don't just grow the kind of mustaches they had back then if you're clean and sober.

For any skeptics our there: remember, that just like drinking, repetition is the key to enhancing your enjoyment. And if that doesn't work, then get bent.

Twas the Night Before Thanksgiving

2008-11-24T11:31:00.003-05:00

Twas the night before Thanksgiving, in my hometown,

And the police were preparing a big crackdown,

On people driving after drinking some beer,

Just 'cause it's the biggest bar night of the year.

Not wanting to get caught and thrown in the clink,

I chose not to drive and instead chose to drink.

So I bummed a ride to the bar from an old friend,

And hoped that I could get a ride home at night's end.

Entering the bar, I go grab an empty stool,

The bar fills up with people I knew from high school.

Reunions occurring as people arrive,

Old friends saying hello with hugs and high fives.

I'm forced to yell over the music to be heard,

And forced to smile at kids I always thought were turds.

We're old enough now for hatchets to be buried,

Replaced with news of who's pregnant and married.

Bartenders were swamped with people shouting orders,

Drinks keep getting spilled because of the cramped quarters.

Girls getting so drunk that they can barely stand,

But still trying to sing along with the band.

My friends and I down shots and then order again;

Cuervo always separates the boys from the men.

We're only drinking High Life and never Bud Light

Not changing routine just 'cause it's "Amateur Night."

People keep drinking and begin to loosen up,

Asking each other if they've seen "2 Girls 1 Cup."

Guys run to the store to get Coke and Bacardi,

Just in case somebody throws an afterparty.

Beer goggles got thicker as the night wound down,

The crowd began to thin as guys looked around

For the kind of girl who doesn't think it's lame,

To start off Thanksgiving with a walk of shame.

When I was done drinking it became hard as hell

To find a ride home not stopping at Taco Bell.

I knew that in the morning I'd be feeling sick,

I doubted three gorditas would do the trick.

I finally got home and passed out in bed.

With a killer hangover lying ahead.

I wasn't very worried because I was sure

That food, family, and friends would be a great cure.

If that doesn't work I could always take a nap,

Or clean out my system by taking a crap.

Even if you don't spend yours the exact same way

Here's hoping you have a Happy Thanksgiving Day.

Weekly Links

2008-11-21T01:01:00.004-05:00

There is this website called "Hot Chicks With Douchebags," and it's just tons of pictures of just that. They ended up with so many pictures that they wrote a book. Now one of the guys featured in the book is suing. So instead of being labeled an anonymous douchebag in some book no one is ever going to buy, this guy identifies himself and brings more attention to the book that he's embarassed to be in by filing a lawsuit. Douchebags must not grasp irony.
As a prank, this dude had a message put on the big screen during a Yankees game that his buddy and his buddy's girlfriend were attending. The message was a marriage proposal from that buddy to his girlfriend. Of course, the dude films it. As great of a prank this is, the joke is still kinda on the prankster, because he has a weird lisp and no one he talks to on the phone can understand him when he says "congratulations."
Some dude was arrested for assaulting an officer by farting on him. One of my friend's farts was so bad that it gave my other friend strep throat. True story.
This is how the internet looked back in 1996. People use to pay for internet access to look at that. No wonder Prodigy is out of business.
Each week I'm going to post a link to a song that I'm embarrassed to admit that I secretly enjoy. (But not that embarrassed, because you probably like it too.) This guy is gay, right? I mean he has to be, right? Right?

The 10 Hottest Actresses in John Hughes Movies

2008-11-19T23:30:00.007-05:00

John Hughes always gets a lot of credit for being the king of 80's teen comedies and for having great soundtracks to those movies. And deservedly so. But he kind of gets the shaft when it comes to receiving credit for his talent for casting. To do my part to ensure that he gets his due, I've compiled the top ten hottest actresses to appear in a movie that John Hughes wrote or directed.

10. Lucy Deakins (The Great Outdoors) – I know it probably seems creepy that I'm including a 15-year-old girl in this list, but I was 10 when this movie first came out and she created quite an impression on me back then. It's not like if the movie had come out last year, I'd be chatting with her online and buying her Mike's Hard Lemonade so we could party when her parents are out of town. Plus, after re-watching the movie as an adult I've realized that Cammie is kind of psycho in the movie (way too clingy and has abandonment issues), which is a big turn off. Unfortunately, YouTube doesn't have any videos of any of her scenes in "The Great Outdoors" except this one. It's some weird tribute to the movie set to a crappy song. She appears halfway through it.

9. Ally Sheedy (The Breakfast Club) - Yeah, that's right. Ally Sheedy over Molly Ringwald. I never had a crush or anything on Ally Sheedy but Molly Ringwald was more overrated in the 80's than the little zipper pocket on KangaROOS shoes. Plus Claire is a fat girl's name.

8. Beverly D'Angelo (Vacation) – Insert played-out MILF joke here.

7. Jennifer Grey (Ferris Bueller's Day Off) – It is hard to find anything likable about Jeannie "Shawna" Bueller while she is trying to bust her brother's balls. But once she lets her guard down when talking to a drug addict (like any of us would) her bitch-face disappears and she lets the world know how cute she can be. Don't try anything with her, though, because she has her father's gun and a scorching case of herpes.

6. Nicolette Scorcese (Christmas Vacation) – Clark W. Griswold sure knows how to pick 'em when it comes to fantasizing about women other than his wife.

5. Jennifer Lopez (Maid in Mahattan) – Yes, this is actually a John Hughes movie. (He wrote it under a pen name.) And no, I haven't actually seen this movie. (It can't be as good as "The Wedding Planner," so why bother?) I don't have to have seen this movie to know that I would've like be on the receiving end of her taco-flavored kisses. (At least up until she started hooking up with that singer who looks like a drowned rat with a crack addiction.)

4. Christie Brinkley (Vacation) – While she definitely belongs on this list, I have to admit that she is ranked this high simply for being the impetus for Chevy Chase to start dancing with his sandwich.

3. Kelly LeBrock (Weird Science) - Did you know that John Oates of Hall and Oates wrote "Maneater" after dating Kelly LeBrock? John Oates! This fact blows me away for two reasons. The first is that Oates actually contributed to the band. I always figured he was dead weight. The second is that a man who looks like John "Baba Booey" Oates hooked up with Kelly LeBrock. I don't know if I should start learning to play an instrument or start growing a bushy mustache.

2. Jennifer Connelly (Career Opportunities) – Back in 1991 before the internet spoiled teenagers forever with easy access to naked women, these scenes were about as good as it got. And that's not a complaint.

1. Mia Sara (Ferris Bueller's Day Off) – This is my favorite movie of all time, so it stands to reason that I find Sloane Peterson hot as hell. I can see why Ferris would want to marry her while still in high school and I totally get why Cameron faked being catatonic in order to sneak a peek of Sloane naked. And the look she gives 2:05 into the below clip? It just does it for me, simple as that.

A Hard Thing To Share

2008-11-17T18:56:00.004-05:00

I've always tried to live my life a certain way and to do my best to avoid self-destructive or excessive behavior. This has proven to be more difficult than I'd ever imagined and it is time for me to admit to having a problem. When I was younger, I could easily deny (to myself and others) that I even had a problem by using my age and my environment as an excuse for my actions. After all, who hasn't binged and purged while in college? It's just a rite of passage. I doubt that many people - if any- even recognized that there was a problem. But deep down I knew that my behavior wasn't normal and that it wasn't healthy. Instead of admitting my addiction and confronting the problem head on, I held on the hope that I'd just "grow out of it" as I became older and (hopefully) more mature.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. As I've gotten older, I have never tried to quit cold turkey but instead, settled for simple moderation. For the most part, this worked for me. But there were still a number of times when I'd slip, and end up paying high consequences for my actions. I wouldn't stop when I should of, and my body would be punished because of it. There have been more than a few mornings after where I have woken up beyond sick and vowed to swear off the poison that made me feel that ill. Invariably, the memory of the horribleness I went through would fade, as would the strength of my resolve. Eventually, I would fall back into the vicious circle and make another revolution in the downward spiral.

Unfortunately, I recently relapsed again and to quote the great thespian Danny Glover: I'm too old for this shit. I need help. It is now clear that I cannot do this alone anymore. The temptations are too great and the stakes are too high. Throughout my life, I've made the same promise to myself over and over again and have always broken it. I now realize that that needs to stop. So even though it pains and embarrasses me to do so, I'm sharing the following promise with my friends and family in hopes that they can help me with finally keeping it for once and for all:

As God is my witness, and because I am aware of - and want to avoid - the negative consequences that come with it, I promise to never eat Taco Bell ever again. Ever. Even if I'm drunk. Or hungry. I just won't do it. Seriously, never again. It's garbage meat. I know that. You don't think I know that? Of course I know that. That's what make this admission so difficult and embarrassing.

Please just help me keep this promise, I beg of you. Don't eat it around me, don't make a run for it when I'm around you, and don't offer to buy me anything I want from it if I give you a ride home from the bar. Don't tell me about how the last time you had it, it wasn't that bad, or that the order was actually correct. I don't want to hear it. I just can't. I know this is a lot to ask and may come across as selfish. I apologize. But I can't spend another night wolfing down MexiMelts and hoping they don't cause me to puke or shit my pants. I hope you all understand. Thank you in advance for your support.

Weekly Links

2008-11-13T14:27:00.007-05:00

I remember a few years back seeing some special on MTV about trying to figure out what the next extreme sport would be now that skateboarding and rollerblading have become so huge and mainstream. A group of kids were trying to say that "freestyle walking" was going to be the next big thing. Well, history has proved those fags wrong. Kids these days are doing swing tricks. And it is actually pretty sweet.
If you're like me you watch "The Sandlot" on cable two or three times a month. Here is a rundown of what some of the kids in the movie are up to now.
What's better, Nestle Crunch or Hershey's Krackel? Can't wait for the comparison between a Mr. Goodbar and a shit sandwich.
Scientists may have found a cure for AIDS. Gay men can now finally go back to having copious amounts of unprotected, anonymous sex with each other.
The Onion's AV Club does weekly taste tests of weird food products (like bacon-infused vodka, or a cheeseburger in a can). One of their readers dared them to try a super-hot potato chip. Here's their assessment, along with an interview with the dude who suggested the food to them. It's fucking hilarious.

The Best and Worst Board Games of All Time

2008-11-10T17:21:00.013-05:00

The Best

Monopoly - This game is the fucking jam. If you're playing it correctly, this game should always end in an argument. There are two types of Monopoly players: professionals who are in it to win it and people who are simply playing because they mistakenly think they will have fun. Games always start off slow because no one is willing to do a deal that will give someone else a monopoly. But by being super critical of the weaker players, peer pressuring them, and making them want to quit by draining all of the fun out of the game for them, a pro can broker deals that will result in monopolies and ultimately a win. Sure, the win usually result from everyone else calling the winner an asshole and quitting, but a win is a win is a win.

Sorry - Sorry is another game that is awesome because it gets people mad at each other. They should really change the name though, because no one apologizes when they send somebody else's piece back to Start. The game should be called "Sucks To Be You!" Or some variation of that. This game is great because it always seems like one player never has a chance to win. They either can never get a 1 or 2 to get out of Start or every other player has an unspoken understanding with each other to gang up on the same player so the poor jerk can never advance very far.

Scattergories - It is a scientific fact that every party ever thrown by white people over the age of 35 between 1990 and 1993 included multiple games of Scattergories. And with good reason. This game allowed people to be creative, it didn't have a ton of rules to follow, and didn't get boring very quickly. The only problem was finding enough writing utensils for everyone who wanted to play. Some poor sap always ended up having to use a broken crayon.

Guess Who? - Is there anything more satisfying than flicking the pictures down of all people wearing a hat at a jaunty angle? Every clicking sound is the sound of you getting one step closer to guessing who the fuck your opponent is. Just a tip for the next time you play: Never pick Anne.

Clue - Clue is awesome because it allows people to act like they are Sherlock Holmes, Encyclopedia, Brown, The Hardy Boys, and Nate the Great all rolled up into one and solve the murder of Mr. Boddy. For some reason, no one ever fucks around when playing Clue. People guard their detective notebooks more closely than their wallet and credit card info. Players are more likely to admit to having an STD than to telling you who they have crossed out on their suspects list.

The Worst

Mouse Trap - This game fucking sucks. This game is the present you give to kids who you hate and want to make miserable. Has anyone ever successfully completed a game of Mouse Trap? Has anyone ever successfully set the board for a game of Mouse Trap? Either the marble is lost or the old man never makes it into the pool, or someone bumps the towers while moving their piece and all the shitty plastic pieces come tumbling down. This game is so hard and catching that goddamn mouse is so rare that grown adults have posted videos on YouTube of their attempts. And they go apeshit when it actually works

Family Feud - The actual show is awesome. The online version is awesome. The videogame version can be fun. The board game version? Holy shit, does it suck. First off, I think the last edition they created for this game was in 1979. I've never seen a brand new Family Feud board game. It always comes from someone's basement, smelling musty and containing outdated questions with answers like "Calculator" for the question "Name something you forget to unplug when you leave your office." Plus no one ever wants to host, and there are never enough people to make up a good Family Feud pose.

Twister - This game is for fags.

Life - The only board game in the world that is slower than real time. It is harder to grow up and get a job in this game than it is in real life. The cinnamon version of their cereal is awesome though.

Operation - I can't stand the sound of hearing cellphones in TV shows or movies vibrating when they ring. I couldn't figure out why it bugged me so much until I realized that it reminded me the buzzing in Operation. This may be the only sound in the world worse than an alarm clock's beep. Now the sound in this game wouldn't be a problem if the pieces that need to be removed weren't coated in teflon. Especially the bread basket. You have a better chance of extracting dinosaur DNA from a mosquito trapped in an old fart's cane with those shitty tweezers than you do removing the dude's bread basket without his nose lighting up. Fuck this game. It's making me upset just thinking about it.

Friday Links

2008-11-07T22:56:00.007-05:00

Here are some links I found funny and/or interesting this week:

Two high school football players join together to make a spectacular catch. To quote Tenacious D: "That's fuckin' teamwork."
A Washington Redskin fan came into Detroit to watch his team play the Lions. While in town, he took a tour of the local sites and posted his thoughts. A strong effort by him, to say the least.
If you've always wanted your own personal Muppet, your dreams have been answered. Now you can make your own Muppet at FAO Schwarz. You can only make generic ones, unfortunately.
If you've always wanted to recreate the car Biff's grandson Griff drove in "Back To The Future 2," your dream is now crushed because someone has beaten you to the punch.
You can still by Marty McFly's future Nike's if you can find them on eBay and have a few grand to burn.
An awesome piece by Newsweek providing an extensive, behind-the-scenes look at both the McCain and Obama campaigns dating back from last year all the way up to the election. It is in 7 parts and quite long, but really worth it.
A compilation of some great soccer shots. Some of these guys got a howitzer for a leg.

Erection Day

2008-11-05T21:30:00.004-05:00

The election is finally over. My guy won and I couldn't be more happy about it. And neither could black people, apparently. I haven't seen black people celebrate like that since O.J. was acquitted. By the end of this whole thing I was so burnt out from reading about every little thing coming from both campaigns I couldn't take it anymore. I was tired of getting mad at friends and acquaintances when I'd find out that they were ignorant and didn't agree with my political views. I allow hate to consume enough of my life as it is, I don't need anymore of it. So I'm glad that this whole thing is over and that everyone can now go back to not talking about politics on a daily basis.

After I voted, I was given a sticker proclaiming that I had done so. I asked the old milkshake working the table why they didn't have "I Tried to Vote" stickers for anyone who gets turned away or denied, like how the Red Cross gives the "I Tried" sticker to people who don't qualify to safely give blood. The old man had no idea what I was talking about, but offered me a Werther's Original so I let it slide.

I don't know why people would wear that "I Tried" if they weren't allowed to give blood. There are way more negative connotations to being turned down as a donor than there are positive. Anyone who has given blood knows what I'm talking about. They ask you a ton of questions about drug use, international travel, exposure to disease, the last time since you've donated, STD's, and homosexual activity. The question about homosexual activity is my favorite because of the way they word it:

"Have you had sexual contact with another male, even once, since 1977?"

The "even once" clarification is so great because you know that there must've been a reason to add that to the question. There must've been hundreds of closeted donors who answered "no" to having gay sex, only to admit that they have "once" when further questioned by a skeptical nurse. Like if it only happens once, it doesn't count. Nice try, buddy, but that's not how it works. Some things only need to be done once to have a lasting effect on a person's life. If a guy goes his whole life having sex with only women, but then one day gets caught fucking a goat, what do you think his nickname will be for the rest of his life?

So knowing the stigma behind not being cleared to give blood, why would anyone wear that failure sticker? When I see someone in an "I Tried" sticker I don't think, "Oh he must've already given blood within the last 8 weeks." I think, "That guy probably has sex with dudes. Probably." The whole point of getting the "I Donated" sticker is to attract attention to yourself so you can get credit for a selfless act. People should be heeding the sticker and acting nicely towards you, not trying to figure out what STD you acquired that precluded you from tainting future trauma victims with your dirty, dirty blood. Anyone who meets you and sees the "I Tried" sticker is going to be wiping their hands like they were Denzel in "Philadelphia" and you were Tom Hanks. Not good.

Not to stray further off topic but in the scene where Denzel asks Tom Hanks why his face is fucked up, why does Hanks just blurt out, "I have AIDS,"? Dude. Too much information. Why doesn't he just tell him he's sick and be done with it. That's like the worst answer you could give, even if it is the honest one. The Red Cross didn't have to clarify their questions with this guy. Jesus, Tom, be vague! Have some tact. Though to be fair, Denzel was pretty tactless by just bluntly asking "What's wrong with you?" to someone he hasn't seen in forever. The only time it is really appropriate to ask that question to a long-lost friend is if you walk in on them having their way with a goat. Even if it's not your goat, I'm pretty sure Miss Manners wouldn't give you a hard time.

After seeing the dregs of humanity that were in line with me at the polls, I think it would be a good idea to have voters screened to see if they were qualified to vote. It wouldn't have to be a test or anything difficult, just a few questions to ensure that the moron vote is kept to a minimum. Some of the questions that I think would be apt:

Have you ever camped out in line for a videogame or videogame system?

Do you own anything denim other than pants?

Do you get your news from "The View"?

Do you pronounce "ask" as "ax"?

Are the comedians in the Blue Collar Comedy Tour funny?

Can you see Russia from your house?

If you are male, have you had sexual contact with another male, even once, since 1977?

If the answer to any of these questions is yes, then the person should be declared ineligible because they have poor judgment, low intelligence and they cannot be trusted to make an informed decision. And I'm just kidding about the last question. (Kind of.) No, no, not kind of. Completely. I'm completely kidding. I have no problem with gay people voting, or gay people in general. Just as long as they stay away from goats.

Whoever You Like

2008-10-30T12:19:00.002-04:00

This seems like it should be a Saturday Night Live sketch. As they pan across all of the performers, one of them tends to stand out as being a little different. When I was in elementary school whenever the school put on a play, they always had to make sure they included the retarded students from the school's special ed classes so they wouldn't feel left out. The kid in the upper right hand corner reminds me of that. At least he looks like he's enjoying himself, so more power to him. Though he seems to struggle with the "flow" about a minute and a half into it.

(And like a SNL sketch, this thing runs too long, so don't feel like you have to watch it all, because I didn't.)

World Series Look-Alikes

2008-10-27T12:38:00.017-04:00

Watching the World Series, I noticed that a lot of the players look a lot like famous (and semi-famous) actors. Some are nearly dead ringers, while others just remind me of certain people. To illustrate my point, I've listed some examples below, starting with the Tampa Bay Rays.

Joe Maddon - Gene Hackman

While I'm rooting for the Phillies, I am interested in seeing if Maddon kisses his wife as weirdly as Hackman kissed Barbara Hershey in "Hoosiers."

Willy Aybar - David from "Real World New Orleans"

"Come on, be my baby tonight."

Jason Bartlett - The "I'm Freaking Out Guy" from "Super Troopers"

They both got those crazy, buggy eyes.

Scott Kazmir - Eric Murphy from "Entourage"

I feel bad for the rest of the Rays if Kazmir is anywhere near as big of a douche bag as E is on "Entourage."

Evan Longoria - Smalls from "The Sandlot"

This might be a stretch, but Longoria's hat always looks 2 sizes too big for him - just like the hat Smalls wears in the movie with the extra long bill.

Carlos Pena - That Guy from a bunch of movies

This dude has been in a bunch of movies like "Crimson Tide" and "World Trade Center." I remember seeing him on "House" a few years ago too. I don't know his name but I hate him for reminding me of Carlos Pena, who sucked major dick when used to play for the Tigers.

Now for the Phillies:

Cole Hamels - The Dad of the Ugly Girl on the new "90210"

This dude also was the "Desperado Guy" from "Seinfeld" who required complete silence when listening to his favorite song. Not a fan of "Witchy Woman."

Ryan Howard - Tracy Morgan

I keep hoping that Ken Rosenthal will file a report during the game that he's heard from reliable sources that Ryan Howard loves the Philadelphia fans so much that he wants to take it behind a middle school and get them pregnant.

Jamie Moyers - Mike Rowe from "Dirty Jobs"

Insert dirty job joke about cleaning Moyers bed sheets here.

Brett Myers - Aaron Lewis from Staind

Raise your hand if you've never beaten your wife. Not so fast, Brett!

Quid Pro Quo

2008-10-23T16:49:00.000-04:00

“You shit in my mouth, now I’m gonna shit in yours.”

That was a snippet of a phone conversation I heard a co-worker having earlier this week, while I walked by her desk. It took all of my will and self-control to not stop in my tracks and listen further. I am still trying to figure out if she was speaking literally or figuratively. Either way, that sentence begs so many questions. To begin with, was she speaking to a customer? At this point, I put nothing past the people I work with. And having experienced firsthand how rude and ignorant many of our customers can be, she may have even had a point. Assuming that she was conducting company business, I was still surprised at just how loudly she had made this filthy promise. Since our company stresses the importance of keeping the promises we make to customers.

If she was speaking figuratively, maybe she was just confused and meant to say, “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” This isn’t out of the realm of possibilities, as the stupidity of our customers is nearly matched by the stupidity of our employees. Someone sent out an email yesterday and accidentally sent it to every employee in Michigan instead of to just the one person for whom it was intended. In the next 30 minutes almost 100 people replied to ALL with the message “This wasn’t supposed to be sent to me.” Then, “Stop replying to all.” Then, “Seriously, y’all. STOP!” Then, “Who’s hungry? Pizza??” (Seriously.) And then, “Let’s do Chicken Shack instead.” Then, “I’m not sure I’m supposed to be receiving this, but I’ll take some pizza.” I wish I were kidding about this. Adding to the annoyance is that our email system is set up so that an alert window pops up every time an email is received, so these messages kept interrupting my work. I would have fired every single person who sent a “reply to all” email. Anyone who can’t differentiate from “reply” and “reply to all,” cannot possibly be an asset to the company in any way.

If she was speaking literally, then she is setting herself up for failure. By the tone of her voice, it seemed like she wasn’t happy that someone shit in her mouth. That’s understandable. Obviously, the offender used the element of surprise to their advantage and seized upon a moment when my co-worker wasn’t expecting it. By announcing her intentions, she’s making it harder for herself to make good on her threat. I can’t imagine it is easy to get someone to allow you to put your bare butt right up in their face under any circumstance, but it has to be goddamn impossible if they are on the lookout for having their mouth shat in.

I get the satisfaction behind retribution, but I don’t understand returning the exact favor in this instance. If someone kicked me in the balls, I would dedicate my life to kicking them in the balls. This works because the act of me kicking someone else in the balls doesn’t cause me further pain or embarrassment. Now if someone ever – God forbid – shat in my mouth, I would still dedicate my life to getting revenge on that person, but by killing them. Show me the jury that would convict me after I explained the situation to them. I wouldn’t exact revenge by shitting in their mouth because that isn’t something that I ever want to do. Or will ever do. Ever.

Well I mean, I guess I would do it under certain circumstances. Like if it were somehow guaranteed that if I shat in Bin Laden’s mouth that it would could create everlasting world peace or that it would mean that I’d never have to work again, I’d probably do it. Obviously, we’d have to find him first, so it’s kind of a moot point.

Getting back to my co-worker, what if the person she was speaking to is hoping that what she said wasn’t a threat, but actually a promise? Like, he (or she!) has been trying his (or her!) whole life to have this done, but no one ever was willing. So instead, he (or she!) concocted an elaborate plan to find a woman who believes in “eye for an eye” revenge so literally that when he (or she!) craps in her mouth, the woman will make it a point to do the same back. Then he (or she!) lets her do it by feigning repulsion and reluctance. Aaand mission accomplished. Or maybe the guy (or gal!) was simply doing it to achieve world peace.

Literal Remixes

2008-10-22T00:42:00.005-04:00

Both of these are pretty funny. I like the Tears for Fears one better, even though it has a monkey in it. Monkeys are fucking creepy. I don't trust them. They always seem really dirty to me and gross. They shouldn't be allowed to wear human clothes or kiss people. Or even shake hands with people. It's just wrong. And it can't be hygenic.

The Definitive Guide to Taking a Dump at Work

2008-10-20T12:20:00.005-04:00

Taking a dump at work is an unfortunate, yet necessary, part of life. Depending on how you tackle this (daily?) task, it can either be a stressful and messy cross to bear or a productive respite from the hustle and bustle of office life. The intention of this guide is to make your experience closer to the latter than the former.

This guide is geared towards men, because I try to avoid thinking about women defecating as much as possible. Say what you will, it's just not natural.

Preparation

A positive dumping experience at work requires a decent amount of legwork and preparation. When you've finally admitted to yourself that you are the kind of guy that will drop a deuce at work, you need to set yourself up for success.

First off, scour the vicinity for all available restrooms. Ideally, you will want to target a restroom that doesn't get a lot of traffic. The more out of the way it is the better. This decreases the likelihood that you will have to dookie with other people present, and allows you to go to the bathroom relatively undetected by your coworkers. If you work in a large office building, don't be afraid to use a restroom on a different floor if you can't find an acceptable one on your own floor. Be creative. I went to an all male high school (I know, lucky me) and a friend of mine used to use the women's bathroom in the athletic wing to ensure that he got the total privacy he needed.

Timing is also key. There are good times to go and bad times. Just like traffic, office restrooms have rush hours. After a morning full of coffee breaks and a lunch consisting of greasy fast food, it should come as no surprise that in the early afternoon your office bathroom is more hopping than a malt shop in the 1950's. Don't even think about taking a dump anywhere near this time of day, unless it's an emergency. Too many variables and potential problems could arise. Just avoid the situation at all costs. Instead, utilize the slow parts of the day to do your business. If a department in the office arrives later or leaves earlier than the rest of the workers, use their bathroom when they aren't in. Remember, total and complete privacy should always be the goal when defecating at work. It is the closest you'll get to recreating the experience of your home toilet.

When selecting your restroom, make sure that the restroom has more than one stall and that the locks work on all of them. When you commit to doing the deed, you don't want to be loitering like George Michael because the only stall in the bathroom is occupado. Also, you want to keep your options open. It's like "Let's Make A Deal." If you pick Stall #1 and you walk in to find the toilet looking like a crock-pot of chili, then you'll be thankful that you have the ability to take your chances with Stall #3 instead. If possible, select the handicapped stall. For some reason a lot of people treat the handicapped stall like it is a handicapped parking space and think only people with handicaps can use it. First off, that's not true: you can use it even if you're not handicapped. Just back into the spot so no one can see your license plate and run your errand as quickly as possible. Secondly, I don't know about you, but none of my co-workers are handicapped (at least not physically handicapped), so the handicapped stall is rarely used and provides the best odds to get a relatively clean toilet. Plus, the space of the handicapped stall is spectacular. Compared to the size of a standard stall, it's like an airport hangar. It's like the "Rain Man" suite. Which, if you think about it, is apt. How anyone can pass up the handicapped stall to take a crap in a stall the size of a seat at Michigan Stadium is beyond me.

If you work a shift a little later than the standard 9 to 5, make a note of when the cleaning crew works on the restrooms in your office. With the proper timing, you'll be able to utilize the facilities while they are as pristine as they will ever be. This doesn't mean the toilet will necessarily be clean - how thoroughly would you clean a toilet that isn't yours for 8 bucks an hour? However, you'll know that there won't be any floaters to deal with and you won't have to put up with the lingering odor of any previous sessions.

With that in mind, always use toilet paper to cover the toilet seat before you sit down. Some people will try to convince you that this is an unnecessary step in the process because public toilets are cleaned more often than you clean your own bathroom, thus your work toilet is cleaner than your home one, so there is nothing to worry about. Bullshit. First of all, I'm the only one who uses my home toilet so I don't have anyone else tainting the seat. (Pun intended.) I don't need to read the New England Journal of Medicine to know that I can't catch some gross butt/skin/private part infection or AIDS from myself. Co-workers are another story. I mean, I wouldn't want to share a taxi with most of the people I work with, let alone a toilet seat. Secondly, every time I use the toilet paper to cover the seat it ends up sticking to the back of my upper thigh/lower rump when I get up due to perspiration. If I didn't have the toilet paper, I would be sweating right on the toilet seat - a seat that has been sweated on by every disgusting cretin in the office who didn't see the need to be hygienic. Plus, who the hell knows how many people pissed on the seat as well? Based on the number of cars in the company parking lot that take up more than one space, I don't have too much faith in my co-workers' aiming ability.

Technique

Now you're ready to get down to business. The inclination is to treat a work shit like a bank heist: get in and get out. Fight this urge. You've already done the hard work of preparing yourself for success, so slow your pulse down, get in the mood, and relax. You've earned it. I don't care who you are, you don't get paid enough to rush this. Consider it an additional break, a "Business Man's Meditation" if you will. It is a time to collect your thoughts, reflect upon what got you here and what you plan on doing with the rest of your day. You're not going to do anyone any favors if you hurry through it, only to experience an "aftershock" a short time later.

Some people are fans of bringing reading material in with them. I do not recommend it. First off, walking around with a newspaper or magazine under your arm is a clear sign you're off to the john. You might as well send out a mass email or go desk to desk, announcing that you're about to go take a shit and you're gonna be a while. Even after you're done and you're washing your hands, the reading material you placed next to the sink is still announcing to everyone entering the bathroom: "Hey guess why it smells in here? Because this guy took a giant dump and then read an article about the new season of "Dexter" while it marinated and continued to stink up this place." The only way bringing in reading material is acceptable is if you can be completely discreet about it, so that it won't blow your cover. The best option to accomplish this is to print out an article off the internet. Having normal sheets of paper in your hand won't draw any suspicion from your co-workers and you can just toss them out before you wash your hands. And you WILL wash your hands. Think about it: throughout this process you're touching things that more than likely have some amount of fecal matter on them due to the flush of the toilet sending all these poo particles out in the air. It might be a good idea to use some soap and water to wash your hands before buying that bag of Fun-yuns from the vending machine.

If you end up having to go to the bathroom with other people in the room, and you pull your pants all the way down to your ankles when you sit down to take a poop be sure to avoid letting your ID badge be seen by the people using the stall next to you. Also, if you're older than 8 and still pull your pants all the way down to your ankles, you need to grow up. Seriously. Do you also pull your shirt up and tuck it under your chin when you take a piss? Just stop at the knees. It'll be all right, I promise. It isn't a bad idea to flip the badge around when entering and exiting the bathroom as well. You don't want anyone to put a name to your face. Or to your stink.

It is important to remember that just because you're not at a urinal and not standing up doesn't mean you don't have to still aim when you pee. You don't want to make the mistake of overlooking this fact and end up peeing through the space between the toilet seat and toilet bowl. I'll admit that this problem is rare, but it still happens, so you'd be foolish to ignore it. Especially because if you do end up peeing through that space, it means you're not paying attention in the first place, so you won't notice right way what you're doing. By the time you do, you'll end up with sopping wet underwear (and possibly pants). Have fun dealing with that mess.

If you're unlucky enough to be shitting in the presence of company, try to time your actions with the actions of the other people in the bathroom. Hold off on actually dropping the deuce until someone washes their hands or turns on the hand dryer and use that noise to mask the sound of you doing your business. If the other people in there have any sense of decency, they will help you out by creating as much noise as possible for you to work with. There are few things worse than taking a crap in a silent bathroom. It's like an echo chamber. The way every noise bounces off the walls it makes it seem like you are dropping rocks down a well instead of just plopping a turd in bowl of water 6 inches below you. Any outside noise by that person that can cover the spelunking noises you're making in the stall is extremely helpful in limiting the embarrassment of the situation. Keep that in mind if the roles are ever reversed, and make sure you pay it forward.

As uncomfortable as a silent bathroom is, under no circumstances should you ever attempt to cover the sound of your BM with your own noises. Don't try to cough – you're not fooling anyone. Don't groan or grunt – you're only making it worse. You should be as silent as a monk. And by no means should you ever be talking on your cell phone while taking a shit. It is fucking disgusting and unbelievably rude. Just because it is a similar size, doesn't mean you're in a phone booth. This is not the time to multi-task. Having a loud, personal conversation on your phone in front of people is bad enough, but when you're subjecting them to your phone call AND the smell of your shit, you're being a complete asshole. Taking a dump while talking on the phone is like drinking and driving: you should never combine the two activities, you probably do it more than you'd like to admit, and you should be arrested for it if you are ever caught.

Exit Strategy

After you're done with the deed, wait until the bathroom is empty before exiting the stall. After all the work you put in to remain anonymous, there is no point in blowing it all by walking out of the stall and into a crowd of people waiting to see what kind of person could create such a horrible stench and/or noises. And for the sake of everything that is holy, FLUSH THE GODDAMN TOILET. Flush it twice if you have to. That is why God gave you two feet: so you could stand on one while you flush public toilets with the other. Think of it as covering up a crime; you just committed an assault on people's sense of smell and decency, so now you have to make sure you get rid of all the evidence.

When the coast is clear, wash your hands (see above), make sure your fly is up, and take a deep breath. You made it! Regardless of what happens the rest of the day, you achieved a major accomplishment. Take a deep breath and walk out of the bathroom with confidence. You are now ready to attack the rest of your day with a clear mind, a full heart, and empty bowels.

What's It All Mean?

2008-10-16T18:25:00.002-04:00

So I've found a new thing to do on the internet when I'm bored. No, it isn't porn. I said new thing to do, not my all time favorite thing to do. I recently was trying to find the lyrics to a song I was listening to, and came across a website, www.songmeanings.net, that provides lyrics to songs and also allows people to comment on what they believe the meaning of the song to be. I thought it would be interesting to see if people actually provided meanings to songs with completely obvious meanings. And did they? Of course they did. Never underestimate the stupidity of people. Especially of people on the internet.

The first song I looked up was "All You Need is Love" by the Beatles. A golden oldie. Everyone has heard it many times over. But does anyone know what it means? According to the user "landingstill" the meaning of "All You Need is Love" is that "love is all you need." The user "Lady Madonna" adds: "this song is just staying the obvious love is everything,its the purpose of life its self." I think that "Johnny0225" summed it up best when he wrote "Meaning is pretty simple-all you need is love."

Thanks to these helpful retards, I was able to solve that mystery. I tried to move on to a song with a more obscure meaning: "Teenage Dirtbag" by Wheatus. For those of you who've never heard this skater-pop song before, I've linked it below.

Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus

The song obviously gives the listener a lot to think about. "Kathy" starts off the discussion by going out on a limb: "Think its probably how a lot of people feel when ure young and u have a crush on a particular person but feel unnoticed." "Punkkiwi666" interjects with: " My friend told me this song is about teenage lesbians." "LilBlondeKagome"disagrees with that interpretation: "Dude, this song is soooo about guys/girls. Whoever told yopu is was about lesbians, must have problems. Anyway, Luv this song! Me and my sister used to yell it loud, when we were in her car. We had the windows down, too." She certainly paints a vivid picture, doesn't she? At the end of the day, though, "Dressed2Depress" finally nails what this song is really about: "this song has a simple message: LISTEN TO IRON MAIDEN."

I've noticed that the dialogue in these discussions can tend to veer off topic, so I decided to check out another song with a somewhat identifiable meaning, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper. Right from the start, I could tell that it was going to be a bumpy ride. Here's the exchange:

by kevin

How do they want to have fun? By masturbating, of course.

by 21pinksocks

It says " girls just want to have fun" not guys.

by llama37

Girls masturbate too

by smilesloveme

not really

by nietzsche 66

Girls do just wanna have fun. And girls do masturbate. Or at least they should. Everyone should. It's yours to play with, and only you know what you like best!

I'm not an expert on Nietzsche, but I do believe the above line is a direct quote from his work "Human, All Too Human."

The final song I checked out was Ice Cube's "It Was a Good Day." For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of hearing this song before (I'm looking at you, Grandma), I've linked it below. Fair warning, though: Cube uses crude language and states his displeasure of ham, sausage, or bacon. So if you're offended by either of these things, you may not want to listen. (Now I'm looking at you, Grandpa. I know you can handle the salty language, but I don't want the anti-bacon sentiment to push you over the edge.)

It Was a Good Day - Ice Cube

"Leatherface1023" cuts to the chase and confidently dissects the song's meaning for us: "This song is obviously about him having a good day." "Fremont" seems confused by the point of the website and doesn't provide the song's meaning, but instead just summarizes, like he's a 3rd grader giving a book report: "Nobody Cube knew got killed, and he didn't have to kill anyone. He got drunk, stoned and laid. It was a good day." "StoneKyle" gives us the meaning of the song, but isn't afraid to admit that the song is bittersweet for him: " this is an awesome song. about ice cube having a good day. kind of makes you feel unimportant though. i mean, the goodyear blimp never says I'M a pimp."

After that, what else is there left to say?

"I Need to Smell Me a Hot Dog"

2008-10-13T22:56:00.002-04:00

Watching the baseball playoffs this year has subjected me to seeing the same commercials over and over again. It fucking sucks. I'm used to watching everything on DVR, so I don't have to see the goddamn Geico gecko thirty times a day. The lizard has got nothing on Frank Caliendo, though. If you don't recognize the name, he stars in the commercials where he does impressions of celebrities and then dresses up to look like them - but only if the celebrities were 60 pounds overweight.

As sick as I am of those commercials, at least they don't make me want to puke like this commercial does:

Ugh, that is so sick. I don't even know what the point of it is, because I can't get through it without recoiling in disgust. It is one thing for some dude to run out of ideas and come up with this at a pitch meeting. But it is another that a roomful of idiots signed off on this idea, then had the balls to present it to their client. I just don't understand it.

And now I see that Bud Light's new marketing campaign focuses on its "drinkability." Uh, the only people that are concerned with a beer's "drinkability" are high school girls. And they usually solve that problem by drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade, or dropping jolly ranchers in their Zimas. I gotta give their agency credit though, it takes giant balls to market a beer that taste like piss as highly drinkable. They probably figured they might as well feed them a line of bullshit, since Bud Light drinkers obviously have poor judgment, as evidenced by the fact that they drink Bud Light.

Or maybe they gave up trying after seeing the awesomeness of this commercial:

Now that's a commercial.

Ramblings

2008-09-16T23:58:00.005-04:00

"So, do you like...stuff?" I used to ask that question to random girls in bars as a way to make my friends laugh. Understandably, the girl wouldn't know how to take it and would ask me what I meant. "You know, stuff. Baseball cards, ice cream, shoes." When they would say that they did, in fact, like the stuff I described (or more typically, answer with a "what?" or an "uh, I guess so.") I would then declare my love for that stuff as well and suggest we should have sex since we have so much in common. It never worked, because we always had too much in common. I liked having sex with women and apparently they did too.

I'm not a fan of WebMD because though I enjoy self-medicating, I don't like to self-diagnose. I leave that up to the doctors. But I've recently come to the conclusion that I am OCD. Not full-blow OCD like having to check the oven every five minutes or having to brush my teeth everyday, but in more minor ways. Like whenever I'm going to a concert or Tigers game I will check to make sure the tickets are still in my pocket constantly. I get so paranoid that I'm going to be left in the parking lot because I dropped my ticket that I have continually reassure myself that nothing's wrong. While this is annoying, it is bearable because I'm not in this situation that often. My big case of OCD is with me always checking to make sure my zipper is up. You could place a lit candle beneath my right middle finger and I wouldn't have to move it because it is so callused from grazing my zipper a hundred times a day. I don't know how I got to this point, but I'm hyper-vigilant about making sure that I XYZ 24/7. I think I'm being sly and low-key when I check, but I'm probably not. I'm sure my coworkers talk about it amongst themselves: "You know that guy whose zipper is always up? He sure likes touching his dick at work."

I get really bummed when I'm using the TV listings guide on my cable box to find something to watch and I turn to BET because I see that "Diff…" is on, only to find that the program that's on isn't "Diff'rent Strokes" which I love, but "A Different World," which I hate. You'd think I'd learn my lesson after the first time but I don't. I always think that maybe BET wised up and changed their schedule around, but they never do. Having my high expectations dashed like that is just so disappointing.. It's like when I was little and would try to watch R-rated movies on cable in hopes that I'd get to see some nudity only to see horrific violence and blue language. This was way back before the internet so it was always a crap shoot as to what movies would be airing and what they had to offer that a middle school kid would appreciate. Right before the movie aired the movie channel would air its parental ratings to warn you what was ahead. This was the most important part of the movie. It gave you a cliffs notes version of what kind of content you could expect so you could determine if it was worth your time and what you were looking for. You didn't want to miss this part and be stuck watching a R movie that only had explicit language. Fuck that. What a waste of time. I always hoped for "N" for nudity rating. I'd settle for the "BN" for brief nudity rating but would always be worried they'd be talking about some dude's butt and not a flash of boob. The "SSC" for strong sexual content was like hitting the jackpot. It meant little to no plot and a plethora of bikini clad bimbos with big boobs and usually nudity in the opening credits. Talk about a masterpiece! Of course the polar opposite of the "SSC" was the dreaded rating of "RP" for the inclusion of a rape scene. The worst was when the movie would have both the "N" and the "RP" rating. At that point, you'd move on or keep watching and roll the dice and hope that the nudity and the rape weren't in the same scene.

I've been watching the new "90210," as well as reruns of the old version. The new one is good and may become great. Plus they kept the theme song, which is clutch. The old one is cheesier than I remember but still great entertainment value. Now that I've seen a handful of the older episodes I have to say that I never realized how much sex Steve Sanders had in high school. It is quite jarring. Not as jarring as the Steve Sanders acquaintance rape story line that "90210" had, but jarring all the same.

Acquaintance rape has to be the worst of all the types of rape. I don't want to get raped ever. But I really don't want to get raped by an acquaintance. It'd be someone who I know but don't know know. I only know him because he's friends with my friend Chuck. So when I see him, I have to make small talk about Chuck since that's the only thing I have in common with him. And then he starts trying to rape me. Just great. As if the forced conversation wasn't bad enough. And because I barely know this asshole, I can't even try to level with him while I'm trying to fend him off. This is exactly why I'm not this dude's friend. All my yelling for help is doing nothing and I'm only left with an empty threat of "Wait until Chuck hears about this!"

That brings me to Benny Mardones. He had a big hit in the 80's with "Into the Night. The subject of the song? Statutory rape. If you don't remember it, the video is below.

I guess he technically doesn't rape her, but he tells her what he would do, which isn't much better. I know it was the 80's and everyone was retarded and didn't know obvious shit like we do now, like George Michael being gay, Michael Jackson being gay, Gallagher not being funny, etc. But how anyone didn't realize what this song was about is beyond me. I mean, this song is pretty clear and straightforward:

She's just sixteen years old
Leave her alone, they said
Separated by fools
Who don't know what love is yet
But I want you to know

Hmm, it sounds like she's underage and that Benny has been warned to stay away. He doesn't listen because these naysayers have never fallen in love with sophomores in high school before, and until they do, they don't have a leg to stand on.

If I could fly, I'd pick you up
I'd take you into the night
And show you a love
Like you've never seen, ever seen

Now ol' Ben is letting this poor girl know that if he had his druthers and just a little bit less self-restraint he'd show her a penis bigger than she's ever seen before. And then have sex with her with it. That may sound crude, but as evidenced by the video, once you put it to music it becomes catchy and a hit. I wonder how many times Casey Kasem sent out a long distance dedication of this song to some poor unsuspecting girl listening in Wichita, Kansas. It's not like they've stopped playing this song on the radio either. Alan Almond seems to play it every night during his Pillow Talk. Nothing like hearing about some dude take an advantage of a little girl that puts me right to a sound sleep. Sweet dreams, indeed.

This about sums it up.

2008-09-04T16:27:00.000-04:00

Karaoke Kid

2008-08-24T23:32:00.002-04:00

This kids knows how to jam. Just when you think he's lost interest, the beat finds him again and he kicks it up a notch. Some people would argue, though, that making your kid listen to so much Foreigner that he memorizes the words to their songs is a form of child abuse. And those people would be correct.

Corky McFly

2008-08-18T22:32:00.004-04:00

I've always hoped that someday some genius would combine "Back to the Future" - one of my all time favorite movies - with "Life Goes On," which is one of my favorite Sunday night dramas featuring a special needs actor of all time. The dance moves alone are pure gold, but adding a little Enchantment Under the Sea to the mix makes it epic. Enjoy.

All Thumbs

2008-08-14T01:22:00.001-04:00

My girlfriend and I recently hit the cinema and caught a couple of the hot summer movies. As a courtesy to all the readers of this website, I've decided to start a movie review feature. I know I can't come close to matching the brevity, simplicity, and fame of Ebert and Roeper (or as my girlfriend, Jessie, calls them: "Eber and Ropert") but I'm going to do my best by keeping each of our reviews to 5 words or less. My hope is that it forces me to be creative while still providing a useful review. I'll provide a quick description of the film and then our review.

The first movie we saw was "The Dark Knight." This movie is the sequel to "Batman Begins" and features Heath Ledger's final fully-completed role.

Our review of "The Dark Knight"

Jessie: "I fell asleep."
JFunk: "I didn't."

Just recently we watched the stoner comedy "Pineapple Express." This movie is another Judd Apatow production and stars Seth Rogen, who also co-wrote the script. It also features Gary Cole. You know he his. He played Mike Brady in the "Brady Bunch" movies. You know, the boss from "Office Space"? Yeah, him.

Our Review of "Pineapple Express"

Jessie: "Didn't fall asleep this time!"
JFunk: "Me neither."

The DVD Pick of the Week is "Zodiac" which recently came out with a special collectors editions DVD and is now playing on Showtime. It is the true story of a serial killer who terrorized the San Francisco for over a decade. It stars Jake Gyllenhaal, who played the boyfriend of Heath Ledger's character in "Brokeback Mountain." That movie featured Ledger's last fully-completed role as a homosexual.

Our Review of "Zodiac"

Jessie: "I think I fell asleep."
JFunk: "You did. I didn't though."

**UPDATE** After finishing this entry, I was pretty happy with our reviews and thought they came off as pretty professional and succinct. I figured they would be perfect for any marketing teams to use in their advertisements for these films. That is until I saw a quote that was pulled from In Touch Magazine's review and featured in the following ad for "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2."

Let's be serious. "Sex and the City" came out two months ago. It's not like there have been a ton of movies released since then that have featured fierce female foursomes. At least not ones that don't have Pee-wee Herman in the audience.

After seeing this, I've decided to add a few well-qualified quotes of my own to the movies that Jessie and I just reviewed, to better our chances of this site being featured in future advertising.

"'The Dark Knight' features the darkest knight since Martin Lawrence! It's funnier too!"

"'Pineapple Express' is the funniest movie with fruit in it's title since 'Fried Green Tomatoes'! And tomatoes are considered a fruit! Look it up!"

"'Zodiac' will have you seeing stars! Stars you haven't seen since 'Bubble Boy,' '13 Going On 30,' and 'Less Than Zero'!"

God, I hope these work.

DJ Dunkin' Donuts

2008-08-09T01:13:00.006-04:00

Sometimes you see or hear something and immediately a sense of dread overtakes you because you realize you are helpless in changing or stalling the inevitably bad outcome. Like when a fat friend joins you for lunch but doesn't order anything and says they'll just have some of your fries. Or when a friend tells you that he thinks your sister is cool. Or when you see Todd Jones in the 9th inning. Try as you might to convince yourself otherwise, you're not getting any of those fries, your buddy is going to hook up with your sister, and the Tigers are going to lose the game. And deep down you kniew it was going to happen and you knew you knew it from the beginning.

Unfortunately, I think I just heard a song I'm going to hear a million more times in the next year. With college welcome weeks about to kick off across the country this month, this song will undoubtedly get a ton of play at numerous ~~date rape dens~~ frat houses for weeks and months to come. The song is some white douchebag rapper who sounds like second-rate Eminem on a bunch of Quaaludes. He raps about every party generalization possible so idiot girls and meatheads can relate and feel part of the in crowd. "He raps about beer pong....we play that!"

This nerdlinger raps over a sample of Weezer's "Say It Ain't So." For those of you who have recently came out of a coma, Weezer is like one of the most popular band's for college kids ever. I'm pretty sure the Blue Album is handed out for free, along with the magazine subscription card, at college bookstores. So this song will be instantly recognizable to even the drunkest and/or lamest of co-eds and the rap "flow" is slow enough so that everyone can understand the words and not be confused, which again, appeals to white kids. Frat boys and the girls that get abused by them just looove to sing-a-long to songs with their beers held high.

So without further ado, here is the song, in all of its suckitude. Be careful, it's kinda catchy. You may end up liking it even if you don't want to. After all, how do you think Kid Rock has so many fans? They can't ALL be meth heads. Here is the direct link if the song doesn't pop up below.

Drunk History Lesson

2008-08-01T23:30:00.003-04:00

This video is great. This guy gets drunk and gives a history lesson to his buddy, who then films a re-enactment of the story. There are a few more of these, but this is the best of the bunch.

Idle Thoughts

2008-07-31T15:14:00.005-04:00

-You know how sometimes when you're driving you notice that the car behind you is still behind you even after making a few turns and even after you turned into a subdivision? It probably doesn't say much about my patience, driving etiquette, and temper that whenever I notice this I have to quickly think if I did anything offensive since I got in the car that might've pissed off the guy driving behind me. The chances are good that I have - whether it be laying on the horn at some idiot driver or giving a dirty look to some a-hole who doesn't give me the courtesy wave after I let them in my lane. I know I shouldn't get so worked up, but I have no tolerance for moronic drivers. When I get cut off my foot slams on the brakes at the same time as my hand slams on the horn. I can't help it, its reflexive. When someone else's poor driving upsets me, I make sure they know about it. Because of this, I worry that the car that has been following me because my rudeness pissed them off and they want to kick my ass because of it. When the car finally turns off or doesn't make the same turn as me a wave relief washes over me. Looks like no one will be teaching me a lesson today!

-Speaking of the lack of a courtesy wave: there is nothing else in the world that can make a person who just performed a random act of kindness towards a stranger want to kill that same stranger two seconds later. You immediately think "Man, I did something nice for that asshole?" There should be a law that lets you rear end someone if the driver doesn't thank you for going out of your way to help them. That guy would never have been able to get over into the turn lane if you hadn't stopped and let him in. You know it and he knows it. If that prick doesn't realize how thankful he should be and express that gratitude to you, then I don't see how throwing a brick through his back windshield is out of line. You should get a ticket if you don't do something to the other car. Shoot out his tire, give him the finger, I don't care what - but it has to be something. People who benefit from coming into contact with me and experiencing my generosity and kindness firsthand better thank me for it, otherwise they will get to experience my petty and venomous wrath. It's only fair. (You probably now have a better understanding as to why I'm always in fear of catching a beating from any car that follows me for longer than two songs on the radio.)

-It is always a bad omen that you're going to have a bad bathroom experience going number two when it feels like you're suffering from a poor wipe before you've even pooped. It is just the worst. The last time it happened to me I was golfing the morning after a long night of beer drinking. By the third hole, I realized that I had one in the hopper and nowhere to put it, since I won't shit in public bathrooms unless I have diarrhea and I'm about to ruin my socks. Thankfully, this wasn't one of those times. I held it until the round was done. I began to feel the poor wipe effects around the fourteenth hole. I know what you're thinking and no, it didn't help my game.

My dookie was apparently not happy about having to wait around for so long before I did my business, and it didn't let me forget it. Midway through, I was wishing that the toilet was next to a paper towel roll instead of a toilet paper roll because it was becoming quite clear that it was going to be quite the clean up job and I was going to need a "quicker picker-upper." After I was done, I looked at what I did. Yeah, I looked at it. Get over it. Like you don't look at yours. What's that? You don't? Well I would if I were you. Anyway, it was a mess. It looked like I didn't know what I was doing. I'll just say it was nothing to be proud of.

This was one of those times that I would've killed for the wet wipes that a lot of people have started to use instead of regular toilet paper. After the fiftieth wipe, my arm started to get sore and I still could tell that the dreaded "poor wipe" was imminent. Those wet wipes can really get the job done, but I don't appreciate the holier-than-thou tone wet wipe users get when talking about the people who haven't converted yet. They always say how they could never go back to the "old way" and that its gross when you really think about how little regular toilet paper actually cleans.

Another one of their popular arguments: "Imagine if your hands were all muddy and all you did to wash them was to wipe off the mud with dry paper towel and nothing else. You're doing the same thing with toilet paper."

Good point, except that I plan to do a lot more things with clean hands after I get them dirty, which is why I wash them properly with soap and water. I don't have much use for my b-hole after dropping a deuce. That's why its acceptable to have a less strenuous clean up routine. I know this isn't news to anyone, but buttholes and hands aren't the same thing. It's not like you need a sparkling clean asshole to eat chicken fingers, but I'm pretty sure you would prefer it if your hands were fecal-free before you dug in. I'm just saying, is all.

- I don't know if this was just a local thing or what, but does anyone else remember the "helping hands" sign that people in your neighborhood would place in their front home window to let kids know that they were there to help them in case of an emergency? This was back in the middle to late 80's and it was just a sheet of white paper with a drawing of a dark blue or purple hand on it. How mad are child molesters that this type of thing doesn't exist anymore? I don't think there was much of a vetting process in handing these things out. Plus anyone could make one for themselves if they wanted. It's not like the thing was watermarked or anything. The "helping hand" sign is right up there with the witch's gingerbread house in Hansel and Gretel as one of the greatest child lures of all time. "What's that? Your parents aren't home and you're locked out of your house and you need help? And you came here because you saw the hand in the window? Of course, I will help you. I don't want you stuck out in the rain like that. Come on in. Let's get that wet jacket off of you. And those wet clothes. And that wet underwear. Do you know what a gag ball is? You don't? Well you have to try it, it tastes delicious!" Aaaand scene.

Absolutely

2008-07-23T17:47:00.002-04:00

Will Ferrell and Dave Grohl cover my favorite Don Henley and Stevie Nicks duet ever.