What do you get when you cross an orangutan and a puma? No, seriously, I'd like to know.

Well foos, since I last "blogged" at ya, I had the precautionary x-ray for my stomach area. But I haven't heard anything back so I guess I am not dying after all. Whew. Although the whole x-ray process left me a little weary and I think I might be dying of something else entirely- radiation poisoning....both the x-ray technician and the doctor wore these special leaded suits and I had to wear a fucking gown....and then they made me drink all this shitty ass barium and eat some tiny crystals....there is probably some observation room of all the other hospital workers on break laughing and saying things like, "Can you believe they will drink that old toilet water just because a doctor told them to?....HAHAHAHA" and "People don't normally take LSD so easily but a doctor tells them to and....oh man! That guy just said he had to go to work after this! HAHAHAHA."

Christmas was good but the weekend flew by.

I decided tonight while watching a video game commercial that a new genre of video games should be invented...minimal gaming. I am not talking about The Onion article that mentioned a new game from the makers of Grand Theft Auto where your sorted boxes, but rather a game which takes all current games and lets you choose a pansy-ass role where you do nothing...at the very least it would prepare today's youth for their first jobs.....for instance:

In the James Bond series of games, you control James Bond and run around and kill countless hundreds of faceless bad guys.

In MINIMAL James Bond land you would choose one bad guy who stands somewhere in some particular level and wait for James Bond to appear...so you could literally be "playing" this game for many hours without jack shit to do...and then Bond could show up and you could get popped like nothing.

In the EA Sports family of games, you control enitre teams of players and try and defeat the computer or a human opponent in different sporting events.

In MINIMAL EA Sports games, you could be a fan in the crowd, a referee, umpire or soft drink vendor. The less to do, the better.

I really think this idea could sell. This is why I will someday be a marketing guru (Motto: "Marketing actual feces to your children")

As New Year's Eve fast approaches, many of you are asking, "Tim, what should we do for a toast?" and "Tim, where did you get those pants?" and "Tim, why are you a better man than me?" other such New Year's related questions.

To answer your questions in no particular order:
The moon
The moon
A New Year's Eve toast should alienate at least three people you are with, or lead everyone you are with to believe they are a part of an elaborate Ashton Kutcher/Alan Funt hidden camera trick. For example:

"As we enter this new year, everyone raise your glass and drink if you don't have at least six STD's" (After everyone drinks (since no one wants to own up to this) randomly then say three people's names and something like "and BLAH, BLAH, and BLAH are liars" (then pause for laughter) then say, "No, I'm serious, those guys have been around more than the first merry go round" (pause for laughter again, then put in video you borrowed from the library about the perils of STD's and make everyone watch)

or

"To all of my friends and family who have used the restroom tonight...you just got PUNKD!!! And also, the drinks have all been non-alcoholic so (fill in blank), you can stop acting like that."

If you wanted anymore ideas for New Year's Eve toasts, be sure to let me know. I can think one up for you specifically and even personalize it with names.

Next time I am going to write about the best song of all time. And hopefully for you, me and Trevor start another blogoff. Tim out.

"Sorry Jesus, Sorry We Ruined Your Birthday Again"

First of all, would not the title of this blog be an awesome Christmas song? I would like to hear it, so any of you aspiring song bitches out there, write me a song. Well...not me, but rather Christ....and a dysfunctional celebration of Christmas.

Thanks for the large number of comments on the blogoff. Oh wait, I think I got three, one from Logan, one from Joe, and one from my sissuh, Eileen. Your voices have been heard and I have responses.

Logan- Trevor is a woman. Both literally and figuratively. He was born with both parts a la Jamie Lee Curtis and life has been a misguided adventure for him ever since.

Joe- Jud Buchler was a brilliant b-ball player (in the Special Olympics he even managed to lead his team to a medal...but then again, everyone is a winner! YAY!)

Eileen- Hopefully our next blogoff can avoid sports. It will be about religion and I hope will offend people everywhere and somehow make me end up in a Tunisian prison.

My blog "competitor" (and I say that in no ways meaning at all that he even competes with the ((shitty)) quality of stuff I am posting here. This shit here is Bob Dylan writing "These Times they are a Changing". I am the (unheard, mute, retarded) voice of a generation) Jason Mulgrew (google his name and read his blog) has begun deleting comments I leave him on the networking website Myspace.com. He is obviously afraid of my (potential mental deficiencies) blogging skills and that I will replace him as king of the bloggers. Or because I leave comments like this:

"Ain't nobody gonna hold me down, I don't care if you won't be my blog mentor and when I see you (and believe me I will) I am going to make your digestive system a living hell!"

"'Jason "I scare babies" Mulgrew, you are due for a swift kick in the junk' - raves Roger Ebert!"

So, my comments were a little weird, and not even that funny now that I look at them.

So, I finally went to the doctor for the strange stomach ailment that has been ailing me since the Sunday after the Spades tournament. I thought for sure I was dying as I have had this feeling of being full (like imagine you had just eaten back to back Thanksgiving dinners) all the time. But, it turns out (the doctor was about 95% sure) that I have torn or strained up to 7 muscles on the left side of my abdomen. I got some muscle relaxers and have been ordered to cease working out for a couple weeks. Just to be sure my organs have not been liquified, I have an x-ray appointment tomorrow morning per the doctor's orders. Had I been dying (and given a timeframe of under 3 months to live) this is what I would have done:

1)Quit my job
2)Go to Vegas for a few days
3)Get a job at Subway and make strange sandwich art that would both appall people as well as taking care of their hunger
4)Audition for SNL
5)Get wasted all the time
6)Prepare a strange lis tof things to be done with my corpse including: bowling, scaring children, and getting a full length photo tattoo of Neil Diamond on my back.
7)Play dead in front of friends and family at least twice a day just to freak them out and gauge reactions.
8)Drink some more
9)Run quickly around outside in tighty whities with some fake alien hands on.
10)Maybe receive some treatment for my disease?

In terms of sports this weekend sucked. UL lost to UK. The Colts lost. But Trevor passed out in the middle of afternoon and I got to participate in the great sport of drawing on a passed out person with a Sharpie. I was definitely a big winner. If you have never played this game, here are the rules:

-Wait until a person is passed out
-Have a Sharpie ready
-Start by drawing on their eyelids. This makes it look like their eyes are open as well as being extremely difficult to wash off. It also makes the person appear to be wearing eyeliner.
-Draw them a funny mustache a sideburns.
-Write either the word "Penis" or "Cock" on their forehead.
-Also write one of these words on their arm, with a heart around it signaling their love for the encircled word.
-Be sure to giggle all the time and recoil in fear should they wake up.

I was a sure winner, but Trevor acted as a capable player 2 once I left the apartment. He responded in all the appropriate forms that are acceptable according to game play:

-Tell drawer's roommate, "Screw Tim, I am going to eat all his food" (although Trevor, not really a good attack for you, you do this shit anyways)
-Download as much gay porn as you can onto the perp's computer.

Fun times.

After listening to a lot of Christmas music the past couple of weeks, I have begun thinking of some of the best lines in the songs as well as some singers I would like to hear re-make some classics:

-"It's the Most Wonderul Time of the Year"- There is a line in this song about "scary ghost stories"...I am glad my family never included this tradition in our Christmas rituals. (Although we have gone upstairs the past 10 years or so to read the story of Jesus' birth while Santa comes.(on Christmas Eve for us) However, this past year, we read some awesome Norwegian folk tales and I hope we continue this once again this year)) I would love to hear Bob Dylan sing this song, as well as Will Ferrell imitating Robert Goulet singing this song.

I don't feel like typing anymore. And I have work to do. Have a Merry Fucking Christmas. Prepare to be offended in our next blogoff.

THE BLOGOFF

TIM'S OPENER:

First of all Trevor, you are a gentle(wo)man and a scholar. I am elated that we are having this discussion of academia. Although you seem to be rather miffed at the subject of the Top Three nicknames of all time, I am sure you know many more than you can think of. But I guess I will simply have to educate your bitch ass.

The truest test of a nickname, in my esteemed opinion, is that you do not even know the person's real name. If all you've got is a nickname...that's like whoa. This is very rare in nicknames, though, and I only do not know the real name of my ....1 nickname. Just to set the precedent on good and bad nicknames, here are some bad nicknames:
Trevor "Good at Basketball and Life" Giancarlo
Benjamin "Skinny" Franklin
Roger "The Rocket" Clemens (this one is bad because he sucks)

Now on to my explanation of the top 3 nicknames I either know or have heard in my life time as well as a brief reasoning as to why it is is an awesome nickname.

#3 "The Splendid Splinter" Ted Williams- First of all, whomever coined this nickname is brilliant. Referring to something as shitty to have in your hand as a splinter as "splendid". Wow. Of course it had something to do with William's batting prowess and not some marvelous chuck of wood stuck in his hand, but still...and plus "The Splendid Splinter" is now cryogenically frozen...how's that for name preservation?

#2 "Sleepy" Floyd, NBA Baller- Alright, so I lied as I also do not know Sleepy Floyd's real name...but damn if a nickname could never be more correct...this man looked like the King of Narcoleptic people and still managed to play competitive basketball in the NBA (although some may argue this). He led to a whole new generation of sleepy players...Tracy McGrady, Terry Pendleton...and a myriad of others.

#1 "80's" Maybe I am more partial to the brilliance of this nickname because I made it up, but I have no idea what this man's name is, nor do I believe does anyone else who called him 80's. Here is the story: This summer, every Tuesday evening a large contigent of manfolk would get together and play some Chicago style 16 inch softball (T-Bags, I believe you even brought your tiny, delicate handed bitchass out one time). Anyways, the first week we are there a man with long mullet-like hair, wearing denim shorts and a 1985 Chicago Bears Super Bowl championship shirt, seemingly wanders out of the woods at this park while smoking a cigarette. (Of course he really didn't wander out of the woods, someone brought him with, but it did not stop me from making up this story)...I quickly said..."That one guy went into a coma in the woods after the 1985 Super Bowl and just woke up, wandered out and wants to play softball...creepy ass man." At that point the nickname was born, and everyone called him "80's" week after week. Sheer brilliance.

Trevor, I implore you to tear down my nicknames and present three of your own...then it's on...punk ass.


TREVOR'S FIRST REPLY:

Well my previous brilliant literature was just a warm-up for now that way everyone can really see how much of an intellect I truly am.

First, the first 3 nicknames are wonderful, especially mine. I like the Rocket b/c it makes me think of a pocket rocket, which would be a vibrator for those sexually immature and thus Roger "the vibrator" Clemens is quite comedical to me.

Now, the "splendid splinter" has some faults to it. First, splinters are just no fun and thus the pun of calling it splendid upsets me. Secondly, name preservation should be achieved from success, not from psychopathic children freezing you Walt Disney style. Third, Ted Williams was lefthanded and left handed people are rejects of society who were not taught how to write properly as a youth in school.

Sleepy Floyd just uspets me in so many aspects. First, a career cast off with a 6ppg avg. should get no nickname. Second, sleepy just helps perpetuate the stereotype that blacks are lazy. Why not call him kool-aid floyd of kentucky fried floyd, which not only adds racism but also alliteration. Third, the fact that Tmac is even mentioned by you with Eric perturbs me. Tmac is high as a kite and Yao Ming is chinese...that is why they look sleepy.

80'S? This is absurd. I like some of the logic behind it like Da Bears but to name one single being after the greatest decade known to mankind just is not right and is too much pressure for anyone to handle. And any nickname derived by a feeble mind such as yourself just is not fitting enough to serve a long term purpose.

Here is a list of 3 real nicknames:
1) Tim "the lettuce menace" Radway-for obvious reasons
2) Tim "Rock" Raines-crack is awesome
3) And in honor of sleepy floyd, i have the best cast-off nickname...Jud "the stud" Buchler-obvious reasons(hes a good looking man)

Sorry to embarass you and ur nicknames here but its how I roll, and is why I soon will be a professional blogger.

TIM'S COMEBACK (WITH A VENGEANCE):

Trevor, the first three nicknames were complete and utter jokes. You would need to be good at either basketball or life for your nickname to work. Benjamin Franklin once wrote a piece of literature with a name similar to: "My Dialogue with my Gout". And now that you have explained Roger Clemen's nickname to me a little further, I must admit, it knows elicits a small giggle from me whenever I think of it.

Trevor, as you can see in my opening arguments I already said that splinter's sucked and that is why this nickname was so witty to call something like a piece of wodd stuck in your hand "splendid". Left handed people, in reality, control society and will end up dominating it ( I say this without bias even though I am left handed)...the real reason they were not taught (read:forced) in school to be right handed is that these pithy teachers feared these southpaw's abilities.

Sleepy Floyd always looked like he had been awakened by a fire alarm at 4:30 am when he had gone to bed at 2am. Although he may not have had the play to merit a nickname, his nickname could not have possibly fit him any better. If Tracy McGrady is in fact high all the time and not just another sleepy man he should get an appropos nickname like "Ganja" Mc Grady, or "Dimebag". (As a side note how much of a bad foresight could it be on the part of the Houston Rocket's GM to have two stars on his team who each have their eyes open only 6%...seriously).

Was the 80's the greatest decade of all time? Maybe if you are referring to the 1880's (http://kclibrary.nhmccd.edu/19thcentury1880.htm). The 1980's were prone to producing the great youth of today, but in terms of people like "80's" himself, it was a decade that was known for producing such miscreants.

Now, to poke holes in your nicknames:
1)Tim "The Lettuce Menace" Radway- I have never and will never be called this nickname. If you are referring to my supposedly freakish eating habits, they are all in your head. To recount a brief story of Trevor acting like a woman:

Last Thursday at Fuego Loco when we were consuming margaritas (and had just each eaten half of a frozen pizza) we had a basket of chips in front of us. Trevor was continually eating the chips and saying things like, "Would you eat the chips, you are making me feel like such a pig." To that I have to say simply, Trevor you are a woman and maybe a new nickname is in order: Trevor "Oprah" Giancarlo

2)Tim "Rock" Raines....no matter how much I am supposed to argue with this one I simply cannot. It was a phenomenal nickname from a different era and no one could ever get away with such a nickname nowadays. Imagine if they started giving the late Len Bias a nickname like Len "The Line" Bias. Simply brilliant. It should be noted that Tim Raines has lupus. I am not sure why it needed to be noted, but it was necessary.

3)Jed Buchler (#30 in photo to the right...note how no one even wants to stand hear him) never had a nickname nor was he the least bit pleasing to look at. He had grainy, weird hair and a very square jaw. He was not a stud at any point in his life except for maybe now that he toils at some company just so he can be on their corporate basketball team (and the eighth man off the bench).

Suck it.

GIANCARLO STRIKES AGAIN
1)Lettuce Menace Radway-I was in fact referring to your repeated rubbing and erotically seducing my eye lids with lettuce particles at El Burrito. Tu es muy grande puta con muy pito piqito y chingate tu pudillo. Oh yes I'm well cultured. And regarding your weak and shameless attack on my chip consumption at Fuego Loco, let me reply by saying one thing...I was drunk and feeling guilty b/c I had no intentions of paying and yet was eating it all. Its a clear case of my morals and concern for others bringing me down.

2) Rock Raines- the man, the myth, the legend...theres not more to say about it. I also thoroughly enjoy Len "the Line" Bias, kudos to you on that.

3) Jud "the stud" Buechler-this is complete and utter brilliance on my behalf. His excellent markmanship from the 3pt line was only matched by his unrelenting sex appeal. His hair was not grainy, in fact it was beautifully combed over like a child's hair before 3rd grade photo day. Not only that, he was a 2 sport star so if that doesn't add to his sex appeal, you are just being ignorant.

Now regarding this Trevor "Oprah" Giancarlo...this is an attack that will only be countered by saying one thing...at least I'm MAN enough to fight of an ailment and go drinking! I'm feelin loco baby.

Since clearly I'm the creative genius behind this operation, I will think of 3 more nicknames for you to admire.

1) "Never Nervous" Pervis Ellison- Ok there is so much wrong with this man and more importantly his institution. I know this is touchy to you and Milt Wagner and DeJuan Wheat, so I'll let you talk good about this 7ft waste of space before I tear him and "the L" down

2) Raffy "Limp Dick" Palmerio- I figure a fellow viagra man such as yourself could appreciate this name.

3) Earvin "Magic" Johnson-this is one nickname that always perturbed me to an unfathomable extent. The only Magic he has is how he faked everyone into having the HIV b/c clearly he should be a victim of AIDS by now.

TMac is too good for a dimebag so I'll call him Tracy "fat sack" McGrady, this way there can be double meaning because I in fact am also referring to the circumference of his scrotum.

GIANCARLO-2 lettuce menace-0

AND IT'S ON! Tim's Second Reply:

If I had better initially understood the lineage of the "Lettuce Menace" nickname, I might have enjoyed it more, Oprah. It is in fact a pretty funny nickname although it is in fact not a nickname at all, with the fact that NO ONE CALLS ME THAT. And as far as your Spanish jibberish, I get none of that and all it means to me is that you said, "Could I have a plunger, I seem to have clogged your toilet."

Jed Buchler is straight up fugly. As a man that can respect good looks, I would not be abashed to saying if he was dead sexy. The sexiest member of that Bulls squad was in fact none other than Toni "I am a dirty European and spell my name like a female R&B singer" Kukoc, who at age 86 is still plugging away in the NBA as well as avoiding showers.

Pervis Ellison, at the age of 18, when leading UofL to the national title, was in fact, at no times nervous. This was measured on one of those machines where you put in a quarter and put your thumb on the thingy. His lucky numbers were 7, 14, 26, and 9. It was not until his crap ass NBA career that Pervis became skittish and seemingly caused him to eat multiple buffet lines and rumor has it, have sex with men. However, while at the highly esteemed University of "How many championships has Illinois won in the last 25 years" Louisville, he was a P-I-M-P.

Trevor, you should know as well as anyone that I stopped using Viagra after you called me that one time when you were scared because you had taken it and had gotten a huge erection that would not go away when watching ESPN classic footage of ugly ass Jud Buchler. You know you were scared for a couple reasons...first of all, that you would be turned on by a man, and secondly that this man was Jud Buchler. Rafael Palmeiro is a dumbass with evidently some erectile problems. But the nickname fits.

Magic Johnson's nickname gets to stay...is it not in fact rather "magical" that he has yet to get AIDS? Or is it just a giant trick to everyone else in the world who thinks, "I can hump around like an NBA player and not worry about dying! My main risk is friends being scared of playing basketball with me ans Isiah Thomas giving me a kiss!"

As for T-Mac a more appropriate nickname would have to be Tracy "Mary Jane" Mc Grady...then he sounds like an Irish Catholic School girl.

I can't lose with 22's bitch, that's what's up.

Also, your friend Lance who goes by the nickname "Falo" is a victim of a couple things:
1)A serious burrito induced shanking
2)A nickname made to sound ladylike and gay due to J-Lo. It's worth mentioning.

Lettuce Menace-3 Oprah-0

GIANCARLO REBUTTLE & UNDISPUTED BLOG VICTORY

Lettuce Menace=Punk Bitch The "real T-mac"=PIMP

I just had to clear that up for all that are retarded and may be confused about our social rankings.

Pervis Ellison was always nervous out of fear his anal tongue massaging fetish would come out to the public. Regarding his basketball skills, he was a black Bill Wennington, shooting nothing but 15 footers shying away from any sort of contact that was not sexual.

Regarding Jud Buechler' sex appeal, Toni KuCOCK was an excellent specimen of man as well, but he just didn't have that "it" factor like Jud the stud. Plus, broken english just can't cut it in our modern society. Jud is like GI Joe, because he's a real american hero, saving Michael Jordan in the clutch time of 4th quarters.

I like your'e argument regarding Magic, him and Isaih making out at half-court every game was rather disturbing. I really have no comment regarding Magic, kudos to you sir.

Tracy "Mary Jane" McGrady just does not cut it. We all know black people cannot afford to go to prive Catholic Schools. JUST KIDDING. It's gotta be Tracy "Chronic" McGrady cuz he be on that kryptonite, he be on that shit tonight.

Regarding Falo...his shanking was a neccessity and I stand by my actions. I warned him numerous time but his ignorance was just outshining any logic he had. Regarding his nickname, there is a story behind that which would be very mean if I said why so I shall not, but I will say if has to do with him, Marc Antony, Ben Afflek, a bottle of tequilla, and Gigli on DVD...lets just say it gets a little crazy in a pure homosexual way.

This nickname battle has been an encaptivating experience but clearly I am the undisputed victor and your lack of competiting is actually quite apalling. Maybe next time we can discuss NBA scrubs from the L like Francisco Garcia and compare his success to greats like Deron Williams and Luther Head...U OF I BITCHES! ONE

TIM HERE:
Please let Trevor and me know what you thought of our first blogoff. Including: who do you think won? any commentary on our commentary? any ideas for new topics? should we do this again? what is that smell? do you ever shower? are you free tonight? do you believe in magic?

Shanked for a burrito and other disasters

This past weekend (and by that I obviously mean the period from last Thursday until Sunday) was a lot of fun. Thursday night began with a phone call from my soon to be blog competitor Trevor Giancarlo (more on this later) asking me what I was doing. I had nothing planned so he came over. We began consuming liquor, some of the bourbon we had from the last time he had come over and the Jim Beam I had remaining from the Spades weekend. We then decided we needed to drink more. We went for the traditional $3 margarita at Fire Crazy, where we each consumed at least 4 margaritas. Then my ladyfriend Haley came to pick us up and we went to local Irish estbalishment, Duffy's where we began consuming beer. By this point my state was already described by outsiders as "deliriously funny". As we continued to drink I began turning into a kleptomaniac and probably in plain sight of other bar patrons and possibly workers, I began stealing some of those plastic banners and sticking them under my jacket. I did not end up bringing them home so I am not sure what happened between here and there. Also, my friend Bryce called me and was angry that I had not informed him of my drinking and terpsichorean adventures. He then some how appeared moments later and bought me some Jack and Cokes. It is him and anyone else who provided me with liquor who I can thank for helping me to wake up at 9:00 the next morning to show up at work by 8:00. No biggie I guess. Friday at work was great! My stomach and head did not hurt at all! That throbbing pain in both spots is normal, right! Friday night I cannot even begin to think to recount in this space, but I will try. I went to Jewel (the local epicerie) and bought groceries. Some of my more tantalizing purchases included: granny smith apples, bread, roast beef, provolone cheese, pork chops, eggs, pretzels, baby carrots, animal crackers, spinach, salad dressing, macaroni, a jar of spaghetti sauce, beer, milk, some chicken tenders. Okay so that was all my purchases and not just the most tantalizing ones....but just imagine someone feeding it to you as you lay on a bed with palm leaves being waved upon you. Saturday was the day before Trevor's birthday and he informed me that we would be going out. For some reason I have a rule in my head that no matter what I have going on (e.g. I haven't slept in six days, I have an exam the next day, I could feel my organs liquefying and I needed to go to the hospital) I always will go out and have fun for a friend's birthday. It is their day after all. And maybe, just a little bit, I like to have some fun. So, Trevor called me early in the day to let me know that he still had bite marks on his shoulder from me on Thursday and also that people would be gathering at his house around 7:30 for 3 hours of pregaming. I really like pregaming. It is where you save your money for the night and determine how to have fun. I knew Trevor would be wanting to pregame because I have seen him push children aside for the chance to pick up a quarter...out of a sewer. And also it seems whenever I go out with Haley and her friends we pregame for approximately 7 minutes, during which time I finish one beer and have to leave all the rest in someone's room never to be seen again. So anyways, I like to pregame. I was sitting around watching various sporting events on Saturday (curling, ((I really think I could be in the Olympics for curling someday...how many people really do it anyways? I have never met anyone who curled)) college football and basketball, eel tossing) when Trevor called around 4:30 and said that some people had begun pre-pregaming. Wow. I showered as quickly as I could and went over there, arriving around 5:30 and beginning to drink. Sarcastic comments kept being tossed around like, "Come on and drink! You're not even going to be drunk! We only have 4 and a half hours left before we leave! Come on and step it up a notch! Ahhh! Hurry! Drink!" So needless to say we (there were five of us) were a tad blotto by the time we left. My other friend Jay agreed to be the DD for the night and has an old minivan so it was perfect for transportation on this snowy eve...except for the fact that he had taken the back seats out so all of us were just rolling around. We got to the bar and more fun ensued...more drinking for everyone and with shots for Trevor (including a Three Wise Men for which his uvula acted as bouncer for to the nightclub which was his stomach only to discover that Jim, Jack, and Jose were underage if you know what I mean and if you don't you cannot handle my swift metaphors)...one Trevor had done this deed he still continued drinking but once he started dropping glasses and breaking them it was time to go. We then got burritos and I bought one for myself and Trevor (see poor Trevor reference above). I got a chorizo burrito which no one I was with had ever heard of (I described it aptly as a leaky, spicy Mexican sausage "But what kind of meat is it"....you do not ask such questions) and a steak burrito for Trevor. I ate most of mine and then someone took the leftovers and Trevor also offered up a bite of his burrito but when his friend Falo took the bite, Trevor (who was so drunk he probably thought he wasn't) grabbed a knife and began haphazardly swinging it around which cut Falo's hand oh so slightly...so I did what anyone would have done and picked up some lettuce and rubbed it in his eye...everyone knows the soothing effects of some lettuce in the eye...so then we went back to Trevor's and Trevor gave out sleeping arrangements...Jay would get the bed, Dave the couch, Falo the cot, Trevor the pool table and me.....the....recliner? This was not great, but I did manage to make what I kept referring to as a "series of chairs"...my head on the recliner, butt on a wooden chair and feet on another chair...with my jacket as a blanket...what a nice 15 minutes of sleep that was...Sunday was a day of football and Haley took me to Outback... we were then watching Desperate Housewives and I know what you think when I say that. "Tim, might you be a little gay?"

My answer is "No, I am not and these are other activities in which I partake that do not make me gay."
-Watching the OC
-Tea parties
-Listening to a little Celine Dion now and then
-Patting my friends butts
-Drinking a wine cooler
-Watching Laguna Beach
-Watching My Sweet Sixteen (man MTV airs a lot of potentially "if a guy watches this he might be gay" shows)
- Thinking about doing some yoga
- Admiring myself
-Nude oil wrestling with men

See these are all normal heterosexual activities.

Anyways, on Desperate Housewives, this one son of one of the housewives was glad that he had some upper hand from his mom because of something she told him so that he could be really gay and not get in trouble for it (here I am using gay as in the actual meaning of homosexual, not just stupid, or happy or any other alternate meanings) When would something happen to make you think, "Now I can be a huge homo and Mom can't be mad at me!" Geeze.

Trevor also writes a blog (just look in my friends if you are on there and his name is Grits&Gravy) which can be found on myspace.com (I also post this one there). he and I have decided to have a point-counterpoint blogoff of hilarious nature. If anyone has any suggestions for topics please let me know.

Also, some news on the domestic front, my boss Tim just asked Logan last week if Logan and I were looking for a new place to live and when he responded affirmatively Tim offered us this house he owns in Oak Park (4br, 2bath) for $1500/month. We checked it out and it is sweet and if we get four people in there with utilities and everything it will only be about $520/person/month and it is a house! Please let me know if you are interested. Here is a link to some pictures of the house: http://community.webshots.com/album/518008247aqjLdp

Also, let me and T-Bags know some ideas for our blogoff.

Oooo that smell, can't you smell that smell?

Lord knows I can smell that smell. One of my coworkers has a penchant for dousing himself in stinky bathroom Lysol when he uses the facilities and it is all I can smell sometimes at work. I guess it is better than the alternative which is a stinky- ass bathroom.

The other day I was riding on the "El" and I saw an advertisement for a study at Northwestern University that lasted for 8-9 weeks...for people with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder)....how the hell are they supposed to focus on something for 8-9 weeks? Aren't these the people who are distracted by shiny objects, bright colors and movement? I guess that is not my concern. I would have advertised for this study on a sheet of aluminum foil written on with neon paper....and it would have been for several 8-9 SECOND studies. Scientists. So smart, but so dumb at the same time.

MNF Food Review
After a strange series of events and twists and turns, axles, lutzes and triple toe loops, we once again convened for Monday Night Football at Christi's. This food review will be written from the point of view of a 108 year old man with dentures who lived through the Depression:

There was too much damn food there for all you youngsters. In my day we could have fed our enitre boarding house with that much food. And pizza? Those damn dago's always trying to force us to eat their food....and it could have helped if you had some damn applesauce or a bottle of Scotch....damn kids...can't you just get me a hooker to go with these "veggies" and "ranch dip"? what the hell is this crap anyways? In my day we were lucky if me and my 15 brothers and sisters shared a can of beans for dinner before we had to roam the streets looking for stray yarn and cats for food and clothing in no particular order....damn kids...

Also at MNF I thought to myself, "What if Pittsburgh Steelers head coach Bill Cowher wrote a Dear Ann/Abby sort of column? What if any number of people wrote this sort of column? What if I took off my pants right now? Would that be wrong? It is warm. I could go for a mento right now. The fruit ones."

So here are several excerpts from these Dear Ann/Dear Abby columns:

Dear Bill Cowher: I am landscaping my backyard and seem to have run slightly onto my neighbor's property...what should I do?

Bill Cowher: SHOVE IT DOWN THEIR FUCKING THROATS THAT'S WHAT YOU SHOULD DO! IS IT 4TH AND INCHES AND YOU'RE SCARED TO GO FOR IT? ARE YOU LANDSCAPING OR PLANITNG FUCKING FLOWERS? ARE YOU SCARED YOU LITTLE BITCH? THEN GET THE FUCK OFF MY FIELD! OH? WHAT'S THAT? YOU WANT TO GO FOR IT? THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU FUCKING PANSYASS.

Dear Bill Cowher: I was thinking about asking my girlfriend to move in with me, but I was scared of what people will think, what should I do?

Bill Cowher: ARE YOU SCARED OF PRISON TOO? OF COURSE YOU'RE NOT BECAUSE YOU SEEM TO LIKE MEN! YOU WOULD BE THE ONE GUY ON THE FIELD WHO WOULD LIKE PLAYING CENTER WITH THE QUARTERBACK REACHING UP UNDER YOUR ASS! LITTLE GIRLY MAN!

______________________________________________________________________________

Dear potentially gay, dance loving, six year old British school boy: What's a better gift? A year long subscription to a magazine or a newspaper?

Potentially gay, dance loving, six year old British school boy: My mum always tells me to stop looking at the underwear ads for men, but I do so enjoy to see how Baryshinikov may have kept himself in place. People magazine always has all the juicy gossip I love too...oh it is such a hard decision...harder than choosing whither you fancy Swan Lake or the Nutcracker more.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Robot 769543 at the Sony plant? How old is too old concerning a child sleeping in their parent's bed with them?

Robot 769543 at the Sony Plant:
01001101011000010110110001100110011101010110111001100011011101000110100101
1011110110111000100000011011010111010101110
0110111010000100000011000100111010101101001011011000110010000100000011
101000110010101101100011001010111011

__________________________________________________________________________________

I cannot think of anything else to talk about now. I might post again later in the week since work is sort of slow this week. My friend Sarah comes back from London soon and that is really, really cool. Time to play some Wheel...of....Fortune

I whooped Batman's Ass

No one has yet to call me on my plagiarism of Wesley Willis song lyrics as titles for my posts. Maybe because Wesley Willis was a talentless, schizophrenic, little-known musician who had a knack for pushing the demo button on a keyboard and making up charming songs such as "Cut the Mullet", "Suck a Cheetah's Dick", and "I Whooped Batman's Ass". What a loss it was when he died two years ago.

For this weeks post, I did not even need to be creative, as life has proved humorous enough. As I mentioned, me and a group of friends were returning home for the Spades tournament which is always a great time. I will now tell some stories and try and make them sound extree-funny.

When Haley, Brian, and I arrived on friday evening, Rev arrived shortly thereafter. Not long after that we began playing some Texas Hold 'Em poker. Then Rev (who has creepy potential far above anyother people I know) says that he has to go out to his car and get his shades, which a re of the silver mirrored variety. Then the rest of the night, we all had no clue where he was looking (indubidably at various crotches, cleavage, toes, etc.) and this would often make me began laughing while we were playing cards. This would lead to him talkimg smack, saying that he could read me like a book and me me beating him. I know hardly anything about card strategy, but I do know when I have good cards and this was the night.

Then we drank a bunch of beer and everyone else showed up (Jen, Joe, Matt, Lisa, Christi, Bell, Proctor, Amber). All in all it was a goodnight.

The next day we hung out, went over to Churchill Downs, and once there I decided it was time to start drinking. In retrospect, this was a bad idea. Of course hindsight is 20/20, All I had at the track were two Jack and Cokes as my weekend of being Jerry Seinfeld (every dollar I spent evened out, I could not seem to spend any money) continued. We stopped at the liquor store on the way home to purchase beverages for the evening. I bought a bottle of Jim Beam and a bottle of Jaeger that Brian and I intended to share. Also to demonstrate some polarity in the situation, I was buying 50 dollars worth of liquor, and Haley bought a six pack. Woo!!!! Then I consumed one beer at home before we left for the tournament.

Once at the tournament I was paired with Jim Trammell, probably the king of weird people. I think this was the point when my mind decided it was going to take a little vacation that evening and it was getting there by way of the Jim Beam Express (what a fucking corny line, I cannot believe I just wrote that...but words are words and there is no way I can delete them, especially after this long paranthetical phrase).

So, we played our first game and dominated. Then, as the Spades tourney typically can do, we did not play our second game until nearly an hour and half later. In that time I probably had three drinks (by the second they were half Jim/ half Coke) and Brian had made us each a couple of Super Jaeger Bombs. These were not shots he made us, they were drinks that we chugged.

Then we played again and we lost. I drank more.

Then we played again and we won.

Then I don't remember playing anymore, but I am told we played two more games. I do slightly remember playing cards and them moving all around, but I don't remember our opponents. *I do not really drink this much anymore, ever. I love having a few drinks and feeling warm and fuzzy, but not cold and desolate and incapable of thought*

It turns out in the second game we played Matt and Brian. Brian decided he wanted me to be drunker and made us some more of his Nuclear Jaeger Bombs (this is all hearsay). Then we lost on the 4th hand, because I evidently had bad cards.

Then I guess I passed out somewhere and began puking.

Then I made it to a bathroom and began puking.

Then Brian was consoling me while I was puking.

Then Brian and I were beating the hell out of each other, both landing several really hard blows to the face. (In Fact my right cheekbone is still sore to the touch, and it is Wednesday).

Brian and I did not remember the cause of the fight and basically had to be told this had happened. We formulated several ideas:

1)Brian, while patting me on the back while I puked, whispered things to me like, "You puking pansy ass....you little bitch" I then got mad and punched him.

2) Brian somehow slammed my head into the toilet and this is how I chipped my tooth, ergo causing me to punch him.

No one will ever really know what happened. Great. Once this portion of the brawl ended, I saw my chipped tooth (which may have happened earlier in the evening when my mother and girlfriend picked the lock on a bathroom to find me passed out on a toilet with my panys around my ankles and I fell off it and hit the ground...hard...as I said before this was not my finest hour) and raced upstairs, grabbed Brian and put him in a headlock and started ferociously beating his head all the while saying, "He chipped my tooth!"

Eventually we were separated and I was evidently blubbering and very near tears about my tooth, while drinking a cup of water. I even went on a long winded diatribe to my sister Kay saying things like, "I have to wake up and look in the mirror at this face everyday. Do you have any idea how much a tooth costs? I don't have dental insurance."

Then on the drive home I threw up that cup of water. I woke up the next morning, with a sore face and wearing all my clothes from the night before, including having my jacket zipped up and my shoes on. What an awesome night.

Also, there is this kid named Gabe who is crazy (he is the son of Jim, my weirdo card playing partner) These were some of his crazier antics:

He was scanning through the channels very rapidly and would have a starnge comment on each one, seemingly explaining why he had changed it (this is a fun one to try out at home)

"Too many Chinese people"
"Not enough men"
"Too much food"
"Lacking hot dogs"
"Fuzzy"
"Too many flowers"
"Not enough beans"
"Dogs....perfect"

Imagine each of these being said in rapid succession as he flipped through the channels. HI-larious.

He also turns out to be great at drawing. He would draw a picture of a man cutting off another man's head with a sword and approach Joe and say, "Do you like the picture I drew of us?" Very disturbed, but funny to think about afterwards.

Happy Turkey Day fools. Let me know if any new topics need to be discussed.

The secret ingredient in KFC Extra Crispy Chicken?...Human Teeth

First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for their comments. They have really been helpful in shaping what I write now as well as in the future. Your e-mails, as numerous as the stars, were also just too much as now I have no idea what to write about. Wait, that's right, NO ONE POSTED ANY COMMENTS OR GAVE ANY FEEDBACK. THANKS A MILLION. I LOVE MY READERSHIP. Seriously though, I just want to know if anyone reads this. So post a comment, say what you like, it doesn't seem that it could be that hard. But computers are difficult for some, so I understand.

Second of all, Christi once again cancelled Monday Night Football viewing at her house. That is why anyone who goes should boycott all future MNF viewings there. Here are three excellent reasons to do so:

1)The smell. I don't about any of you guys, but I have to throw away any clothes that I wear while I am there.
2)Risk of Avian Flu. At Christi's is the only time when we have those boxing matches with our hands stuffed inside various uncooked poultry.
3)Dangerous "hamster". Christi's "hamster", Rufus, is the size of my leg and eats twice as much as I do. He once ranked #15 in the AP College Top 25 Football Poll.

This past weekend I finally saw the new Willy Wonka movie. I definitely enjoyed it, but all too readily miy mind kept comparing it to the original. Here, in this groundbreaking blog, we will see which is better.

Old Willy Wonka "Charlie"- This Charlie was ugly, had falling out hair and wore some crazy ass clothes. This is much more what I would expect from a poor ass kid who searches in storm drains for chocolate bars.

New Willy Wonka "Charlie"- This Charlie was played by young up and comer, Freddie Highmore (of Finding Neverland fame). He looked consistently clean throughout and always had a cheery disposition. He only occasionally searched through garbage cans and kept making dumb decisions to benefit his family rather than himself.

Advantage: OLD

Old Willy Wonka "Willy Wonka"- Gene Wilder was great. A tad scary, but great all the same.

New Willy Wonka "Willy Wonka"- Johnny Depp was smart enough, under the direction of Tim Burton, to not try and imitate Gene Wilder at all. Instead, he took this role and made himself into a cheery, pale, weirdo. Brilliant.

Advantage: NEW

Old Willy Wonka "Oompa-Loompas"- These guys were phenomenal workers and wore awesome costumes, and sang awesome songs.

New Willy Wonka "Oompa Loompa(s)"- One man, who I am not even sure was a midget, who used computer graphics to become a bunch of men. I did not like this oompa loompa as much. The costumes weren't awesome, and the songs were only okay. The only good part of the songs was watching Willy do funny little dances and giggle as they sang. Not to mention their seeming lack of work ethic.

Advantage: OLD

Old Willy Wonka "Other Kids"- Mike Teevee, Violet Beauregard, Augustus Gloop and Veruca Salt really set the standards pretty high in terms of their representations of their roles. Veruca was a snotty ass bitch, Augustus a victim of morbid obesity, Mike, an overindulged idiot, and Violet, a brash, overconfident little dumbass.

New Willy Wonka "Other Kids"- Mike Teevee was even more pretentious and annoying and the best part about him was that whenever he spoke, Depp would say to him, "You're mumbling. I can't understand a single word you're saying." Violet was tolerable. Augustus seems to be easy to cast and Veruca was right online with her predecessor.

Advantage: OLD

Old Willy Wonka "Charlie's Family"- A strange mix of a poor old laundry doing Mom (who sang the worst song ever in the history of film), no Father, and four old grandparents in a bed. Grandpa Joe was awesome and had a badass moustache.

New Willy Wonka "Charlie's Family"- For some reason, they needed star power, in terms of Helena Bonham Carter, to play Charlie's Mom. His Dad was weird and looked like a citizen of Whoville from the Grinch and his Grandpa George was a rolling ball of negativity. I am glad they stuck wit the grandparents in the bed idea, though.

Advantage: OLD

Ok, so the old one was still a lot better, but I guess the new one might be worth watching to someone, somewhere.

Ok, with credit to ESPN.com's Page 2's, the Sports Guys' Intern (damn you apostrophes, damn you straight to hell) http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/links/051116....I see that GPS companies are now releasing celeb voices for their voice guided directional systems. Here are my Top 5 and Bottom 5 voices I would like to guide me:

Top 5:
5) Jack Palance
4) Will Ferrell
3) Gary Coleman
2) Ah-nold
1)Marv Albert

Bottom 5:
5)Bjork
4)Kurt Loder
3) Marv Albert
2) Stephen Hawking
1) Gilbert Gottfried

Yes, I know Marv Albert is on both lists, but he is both a gift and a curse. "Turn right in 1.5 miles....YES! Let's see that one again!"

I am excited about going home this weekend with some friends to play some Spades, it should be a fun time. I had more to write about but I am bored of typing and finding my humor to be slightly lackluster today as well. MAYBE SOME COMMENTS WOULD HELP SO THAT YOU COULD TELL ME SOMETHING THAT YOU WANT TO HEAR MY FUNNY OPINION ABOUT. whatever.

"And I say this with an unblemished record of staunch heterosexuality"

The title of this week's post comes from a Seinfeld episode. It amused me. I put it as a title.

I have a lot on my mind for this week's blog, so you, as the reader, can only hope that I am willing enough to type it all out, or else you will only get partial and incomplete thoughts as I am prone to write due to lack of development due to lack of enjoyment of typing due to bad typing skills due to lack of time playing "Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing" in grade school due to more enjoyment of such titles as "Number Munchers", "Odell Down Under" and "The Oregon Trail" due to a mind fascinated by shiny objects and crappy animation. That explanation was simple.

First of all, whenever there is a terrorist attack of some sort, Al Qaeda is always quick to claim that they did it. Not only are there attacks stupid and based in faulty logic and thought that I could never understand, but what kind of retards are these guys? Weren't they ever kids? Did they always claim they did everything just so they would get in trouble and keep everyone else out of it? Maybe they are just a bunch of sadists. Here is a grade school scenario:

Teacher: Whomever stole all the canned goods we had been collecting can just return them when the lights are off and we all have our heads down.
Al Qaeda child: I claim full responsibility and wish to be punished aptly, potentially by being hunted down by CIA operatives who are a little higher on the crazy scale than me.

This is when the kid did nothing. Maybe they are just trying to project rebel image to get some ass from the ladies. I will never know.

Next, onto the music portion of the blog. There is currently a hip-hop song by a group called D4 which is ecvidently all about one of the most whimsical candies, Laffy Taffy (a joke on every wrapper) being referenced as some part of a woman's body, as they are told to "shake their Laffy Taffy"....the song has ruined Laffy Taffy for me but at least it is a joke on that rapper...PUN! ZING!

My older sister, Eileen has suggested two great names for my future male progeny, Ace and Buck. I think they are great names and what follows is the transcript that the two of us exchanged in an e-mail:

Eileen R. writes: "you never commented about my second awesome name for your second awesome son: Ace. I mean, Buck and Ace are going to be the coolest, most-popular, most sought-after kids ever. I wish I could use the names, but I don't know what last names I'll be working with. Buck Radway, Ace Radway. Those are men."

I responded: "I do love the name Ace and I have already proclaimed that those will be my boys names. Buck will be a short, brawny lad and will love bench pressing, football, and wrestling with bears. Ace will be outwardly shy yet ultra smoove with the ladies and a skilled manipulator of situations. I do enjoy the names"

They are two badass names and I am glad my children will be blessed with them. Unlike these unfortunate children, whose names suck:

Ruben- all I can think of is a sandwich, or the obese American Idol winner. That is what people will think when you name your child Ruben.

Ashley (male)- Although there was a dude by this name in Gone with the Wind...who cares? Don't name your son anything that will make people think it is a girl. Especially when he is a baby and you are trying to dress him in trendy pink polos.

Edna, Mildred, Bertha, Agatha- These are all old people names, and your children will live their names appropriately as they apply for Medicare and join the AARP at the age of five. And no one will think a thing because they have old people names and thier date of birth MUST be a typo.

Candice-She will end up being called Candy and then end up stripping. Do you want your child to strip? If you answer yes, don't have any kids you sicko.

Jack and Coke Rating Scale

Even though I have an awesome girlfriend, I still have a rating scale for ladies which I must use when my male friends ask me about their prospective ladyfriends. My scale is based on the number of Jack and Cokes I would have to drink before I would make out with them. So a 1 is very good and a 20 means I would be dead before I would consider it.

For instance:
Jessica Alba -7 (I am a confident individual, but she is too hot to approach sober)
(Ok that was a bad example)
Roseanne Barr- 25

And that seems to be all I can come up with, but you get the idea. It is always funny to me when I use this scale that people always assume I am using the normal "1 to 10" ugly to hot scale.

Bryce: What do you think of her?
Tim: A solid 19.
Bryce: Dude, that girl was gross, how was she above a ten?
Tim: I die at 17 drinks man...die...and that's even after temporary blindness and loss of feeling at 14...so she would have to do some necrophilia shit if she wanted some of me.

That's all I've got. Leave comments please. Leave your own scales or rating the opposite sex. And regardless of what I said before, if there is anything that you want to hear my talk about, let me know.

And Twins

So, Halloween was this past Monday, and while they day itself was ok, the preceding weekend ended up being quite a letdown.

For the first time in five years, there was nothing really going down this weekend so my friends and I resolved to just go out. The problem was even this was disorganized and as I was feeling slightly under the weather by the time they were ready to go out (at 11:30 on Saturday night) I had little or no desire to go drink, in the rain, while wearing Batman costume at such an hour. I think sleeping turned out to be a good idea as it helped me get better and all I really missed was a typical Adam and Brian night where they got drunk, stripped down to their underwear, painted war markings on their faces with nail polish and terrorized a neighborhood. I've seen it done before.

When we all got together for Monday Night Football (on actual Halloween) it was rather humorous to see me in a Batman costume, Brian in his Robin costume, and Adam in his Spiderman costume sitting around. It felt like we were in a justice league meeting. Enough recap....time to get funny.

A Tribute
My girlfriend, Haley, just played her lost home volleyball match of her senior year and this is her last week of organized volleyball. From what I can tell, Haley is pretty good, but no one in D3 Woemn's Volleyball ever measured up to my true understanding of both the rules and skill levels of volleyball, from the ealy 1990's Nintendo game, Super Spike V'Ball. Allow me to illustrate:

Players on the court-
D3 Women's V-Ball- There were always six players on the court at a time, and sometimes they could not even reach balls that were hit inbounds.

Super Spike- Two rugged men per side, with range like the Andes....bitch.

Referees-
D3 Women's V-Ball- These were frequently overweight men/women who were balding and had an excessive zeal for the sport of volleyball.

Super Spike- A hot chick in a green visor and pink bikini top. Grrrrrrr.....

Level of Play-
D3 Women's V-Ball- Some players were able to hit the ball rather hard and I have witnessed some pretty good shots to the faces of opponents.

Super Spike- A spiker's hand would glow red and send the opposition flying into the stands when struck hard enough. I never saw this at one of Haley's games.

Good career though Haley.

Also, having been at numerous matches over the last couple of years, I have come up with a way to make matches quicker and more enjoyable. (For those uninformed, it is best of five games, with each game to 30 points. It usually takes a damn half hour per game).

1)At any match that I attend, I get to be the referee guy in the chair thingy.
2)The teams will line up prior to the match. I will judge them superficially based on several factors (hair, spandex, general attractiveness). I will then award 30 points to the team I like better. (That takes care of one game off the bat. This also eliminates the volleyball player that is my height ((6'4")) and looks like Chewbacca due to teams not being able to lose this easy aesthetics based game)
3) I also pick my "favorite" player on each team (based on the same factors as in Number 2, outlined above). Each team is awarded the same number of points as this player's jersey number.
4)Actual match play would then begin. Unlike in "archaic" scoring systems, in my system many points could be rewarded during each point as it played out. Here are some points that could be rewarded:
1 Point- Cool save
1 Point- Good block
1 Point- Good roll over thingy when diving for a ball
5 Points- Diving into the bleachers
10 points- Making an opponent's nose bleed
20 points- Cool Shot

5) As I do not really understand the "fouls" in volleyball (the things that are illegal and end a point) anything I deem not quite right, I would whistle the play dead by saying "Cheating" and pointing at whomever had done it. Maybe I could have a flashlight to point at them too.

These rules would really make the game of volleyball quicker and more fun...and more marketable in my opinion. But once again...good career Haley. I am glad it is over.

My dog, Wrigley, as a shutdown NFL Cornerback

I know, I know...more sports...bleh! But hey...it's my blog fuckheads.

My dog is a six month old beagle named Wrigley. She is very small and very very fast. She loves chasing people and can cover a great distance in a short amount of time. The other day it crossed my mind...

"Self, Wrigley would be awesome as an NFL cornerback...and also you are peeing on your shoe."

I quickly ceased peeing on my own shoe (I was in a bar, and I have since washed them) and thought about this some more.

For the non-football literate, a cornerback in football is someone on defense who covers the wide receivers (the guys trying to catch the balls). A typical fast cornerbak could run 40 meters in 4.4 seconds or so....I'd say Wrigley could do it in 4.0 even.

I know what the detractors are thinking:
Dogs can't play football!
Dogs don't even have hands!
I hate you!

Wrigley just needs a good trainer to teach her football. As for not having hands, she will be so all over anyone who dares to catch the ball from them trying to simultaneously lick their faces and jump onto their shoulders....hands are a non-issue. So, any able dog trainers out there...let me know when the lessons start, because last I checked NFL players make a lot of money, not to mention the endorsement deals a dog could get in the NFL.

Suck a cheetah's dick

Sometimes my life is a living Seinfeld episode. I am not sure which character I am, but sometimes things occur, and I just think...Seinfeld.

This past Friday such a moment occurred.

My boss, also named Tim, was getting married at 4 o'clock in the afternoon on Friday. I have known about this wedding for the last six months since Tim got engaged. He and I have a good working relationship (or so I thought) and have for the last two years that I have worked here. But, out of the nine people who work here, all but two of us were invited to the wedding. The other, not too altogether coincedentally, is my roommate and co-worker, Logan.

So the past couple of weeks at work everyone is talking about this wedding. Including my co-worker Matt (who has a self-importance issue) who continually get off the phone with a client and exclame, "______ is going to Tim's wedding too!!!".

So not only was I not invited but clients of our company were even invited. This was not too big of a deal to me. I had one client meeting at 10 'o clock Friday morning and then I got to go home because there was no one else at the office. But I still did return in the afternoon so that I could call friends who were at work and yell obscene things when I was at my office desk. It was fun.

Tim (on phone at empty office): "Hey Brian, you filthy little WHORE!"
Brian (also on phone but at non-empty office): "Hey Tim, geeze, would you keep it down? I'm at work...where are you anyways?"
Tim: "I'm at work too, you stupid MOTHERFUCKER!"

So, even though my feeling were a little hurt, I found the whole situation slightly amusing. That is, until today. Everyone at work has been talking about the wedding. AND THE MOST EGREGIOUS PART OF THE WHOLE SITUATION WAS WHEN I FOUND OUT THAT EVEN THE MAILMAN WAS INVITED. Wow. I already have aspirations to leave this job and this just makes the notion even more realistic. And good luck getting good work out of me for the next few months.

Some other things I hate:

Saran Wrap: Who the fuck thought of this stupid garbage? It doesn't cling to anything and it is overall just really dumb. I applaud those who can use this effectively while also questioning whether they practice some sort of black magic or have conspired with Beazlebub to have the ability to properly use this product. Sometimes, if all plastic containers with lids are gone, I will simply eat whatever I was going to store rather than try and use that goofy ass saran wrap shit.

Delirium Nocturnum: This is some crazy Belgian beer that I bought because it had a cool name and was in a cool bottle with a cool elephant on it. It tasted, in my rough estimation, like sewer water. And it costs like $6. And it made me angry and drunk after one bottle I believe. So actually it wasn't all that bad. Except for the possibly fatal taste.

I feel that earlier there were many things whirring around in my mind which I may have/not hated. Maybe I will write about them some other time.

I never have given credit to Martin Rollins, who encouraged me to start writing down stuff. I don't think this is at all what he expected and I hope he never sees this.

Don't throw your fish in my backyard, my backyard's full

So this weekend I went to the first wedding of any of my close friends of my age. It, needless to say, was an awesome time and I think the bride and groom looked really happy (as far as I can recall..but they were for sure happy at the wedding) as did all of us drunk people. I want to live life with an open bar sort of philosophy. Tip if you want, drink for long periods of time and have fun. I have no clue how this will be applied to a life philosophy, but I will try. There are too many fun moments to recall in this entry and plus I do not want to be directed by people as to what they think my blog will be about each week (as Christi said to me at the reception, "I bet I know what your entry will be about this week....the wedding). No Christi, you silly bobblehead doll, you are wrong.

Monday Night Football Food Review (as written by someone talking to a baby) (imagine a singsong voice)

Who has pizza? Who has pizza? Weeeeeee! Weeeeee! Is the pizza yummers? Is the pizza yummers? Guacamole (tickles belly)! Guacamole (tickles belly)! (Funny face)

And finally, Tim's Top Ten Ways to Avoid Contracting the Avian Flu:

As you may or may not be aware, there is a pending threat of some sort of avian flu coming and killing everyone. Not to worry, here are some helpful tips I have devised.

1) Stop making out with birds, you sick fucks.
2) Do not simulate any sexual acts with any poultry prior to cooking it (anymore).
3) Avoid things and activities that weaken the immune system, like hanging out in nursing homes and kryptonite.
4) Really, it is not even that cute when you are nuzzling up to that goose.
5) Lather, rinse and REPEAT.
6) Instead of raising poultry, how about you poultry farmers realize the world has INDUSTRIALIZED and you can get real work now?
7) Stop using uncooked sinewy pieces of bird as dental floss. I already told you how much it creeped me out before.
8) Drink a bottle of Robitussin each morning upon waking and a bottle of NyQuill before you fall back asleep. These should be within about five minutes of each other.
9) If you hang out with anyone you call "The Birdman", "Bird" or even Larry Bird, stop. They probably already have the avian flu (Larry Bird got it from Magic Johnson)
10) Immediately cease all attempts to try and recreate the movie "Fly Away Home". After all, let's face it, you're no Jeff Daniels.

"I could bring home a gay retarded black man and my parents would just say, 'Proctor, you're gay and like retarded black people? No big deal.'"

I know, I know...I missed a post last week. It was probably only due to my new feud with more famous blogger, Jason Mulgrew (google him and then read it...it is some funny stuff). I began e-mailing him asking him to be my blog mentor and we have had several correspondences. Lately, as he has refused to be my mentor, but instead says he merely like to read my blog, I have begun threatening him.

Threat #1
I told him if I ever saw him I would battle rap him. Then I demonstrated my skills by rhyming Mulgrew with Taming of the Shrew. I think this quite nearly frightened him into mentoring me.

Threat #2
When I saw that early morning noise annoyed him, and armed with the knowledge that he lives in New York I told him that I have family in Brooklyn who I will tell to come and make early morning noise. He was far less amused with this. Who knows what Threat #3 will be.

MNF (Monday Night Football) Food Review (Every week I go to my friend Christi's where a gaggle of people gather to watch football. Well actually only the first half of the game and then we watch Ultimate Fighting. Or sometimes Laguna Beach depending on how effeminate we feel)

The food selection this week was a delight to the palette and tickled all five senses sensuously and crisply. The "Sloppy Joe's" had a refined taste that reminded me of Minsk, with a bold cedar undertone and delightful hint of crushed boysenberries. As the sloppiness of the joe's fell onto my pantaloons and juices seeped into my skin (dying it like a fine leather) I smelled the arrogant yet elegant aroma of this enchanting cuisine. The platters on which the food was placed were fine Old World- paper plate craftsmanship. The rods of pretzel were an absolutely perfect side dish.

So this past weekend I went home. It was a fun time. The quote by which this post was named was actually an utterance from famed humorist Eric Proctor, the funniest man alive. He said it when some girl was talking to him about how she liked a boy of mixed races and her family did not approve. Proctor, after saying the aforementioned quote, then began continually saying, "Barbara Boxer 2008!". Crazy man.

Bob Loblaw

Bob Loblaw is the new lawyer for the Bluth family. The name has me quite literally considering a name change. Go ahead and say the name and you will understand. "Uproarious, brilliant, shiny, peanut buttery good humor" raves the New York Post. (TCR)"

I don't think rappers have taken things quite far enough with their exorbitant lifestyles and song lyrics until I have heard the lines:

You can take a poop/
In my Bentley coupe

The other night I was drinking and walking around outdoors for matters of blocks in only my socks. Luckily I found my shoes at home the next morning.

The other day the woman who leaves beneath me who seems to have a knack for being a BITCH and complaining if we move at all while above her stopped me to say ask if I had been teaching Wrigley to run around to which I wittily and sarcastically replied, "No, she figured it out all on her own." Then she started talking to me about being courteous and all this b/s when we never do anything rude like tap dancing or jumping jacks. No wonder the last five tenants have only lasted a year.

I donated my drinking performance of Saturday night to Hurricane Katrina victims. Someone asked me, "Why not the victims of Rita as well?". I shouted back, "What kind of alky do you take me for?" and then grumbled under my breath "..drinking for one hurricane isn't enough, people always want more..."

Just some shizzle

Some things that have passed through my head:

When I see someone wearing a belt AND suspenders all I can think is, "MAN, those pants aren't going anywhere. I'd like to even see them try." I would like to say this to someone doing that too, but I might have to have been drinking.

What if humans had tails that indicated their current emotional states like those of dogs. You definitely wouldn't have to interpret anyone's feelings. If you see me in person ask me to discuss this because the body actions that go with it are much funnier.

I got drunk this weekend, ate some of a tree and then nearly got stuck in it.

Hola amigos

Loyal readers (who number in the nano-thousands by now I am sure) will have noticed this blog has changed from "Daily Ruminations" to those of the weekly variety. It was just too hard to find the time everyday to think of funny stuff and most of all to type it. I still think of funny stuff almost everyday, but mainly I dislike typing.

I also know I promised more stories from Vegas, but once again typing gets in the way of the telling in whole of the stories so instead I will just tell the last sentence of the few of them:

-So Brian covered him in baby powder and stole his quarter pounder with cheese.

-So my hand was resting on his arm...the bed was small!!!

-If Bryce didn't want to get made fun of, a comma would have helped.

-And thus Mike wove the most intricate tale of proposal, including a hot air balloon, champagne, and flamingos... all becuase Bryce said he was engaged.

If anyone cares to know a story in its entirety ask.

I heard the Worst.Superlative.Ever. used in radio commercial the other day (I am glad I was able to express radio commercial since my mind was just trying to convince me that they are called "car commercials" because I hear them in the car)...it was talking about some scary ass movie coming out and the voiceover said something like, "And you can also download the cellphone game that some are saying is the scariest of 2006".....What.The. Fuck? Scariest of 2006...cell phone game? If you have ever seen a cell phone game, what with the 10 pixels and shitty graphics not to mention the typically upbeat quality of a game....I can't even find the right words, but I'd bet it is not scary.

When I was at the laundromat the other day, listening to the elevator music, I thought of my three most surprising songs to hear done in the elevator style:

1) "Torn" by Natalie Imbruglia...this was never even that good of a song, and some boring fuck with a keyboard wasted their time to make it even worse.

2)"Unknown" by Barry White...I was just shocked that this one made the transition to elevator. I, however, am not suprised at how it made the transition...ultra-smooth

3)"Brickhouse" by some funky ass dudes...this was just weird to hear without a rippling bass line and all low key


Just because the name is now "Weekly" I can still write more often that that.

Back from Vegas

Well I just got back from Vegas last night and it was one helluva good time. Here, if I can recall correctly are some of the best tales from the trip:
-My friend Bryce does not respond to mocking of any sort, so some how it came up that we would say that Bryce sucked his own dick. Bryce would then fly off the handle and get really angry every time we would say this, to which I would tell him, "Why are you angry, that is a very enviable special talent"...crazy kid

-After I finished my yard long margarita (yes it was really a yard long) I began doing back flips in the pool and singing show tune requests for everyone while also using the very long straw that came with the drink to try and play the instumental parts....I think I then was romanced by a midget or something

-The day we got there I finally had my previously mentioned moustache and we were at a club in our hotel and the guys I was with were being pussies and would not go up to any girls, but since I have a lady friend I don't care I decided to go up to these girls dancing near one another...as I approached the girls ran away...not as if they had to go to the bathroom, but they bolted away as if I were a zombie, or a guy with a creepy ass moustache. Needless to say I shaved it the next day and when were at Studio 54 later in the week I was back to my butt getting grabbed by aimless females sort of way

-Paul and Brian, when they would get drunk during the day and we would be walking through the casino floor, would randomly disappear and we would turn around and see them talking to aimless females, including ones like the one in this picture (http://community.webshots.com/photo/406826368/442841066PMDAzl)...to whom Paul had just said, "You are beautiful"

-After my friends left me alone at the luxurious Boardwalk Casino and my initial $25 at the roulette table had turned into over $200 and many Jack and Cokes later (probably about 12) and then I had no money...I was walking down the strip by myself and stopped at the yard long margarita place and got a smaller one...like a 30 oz. margarita and I was stumbling my way down to Margaritaville....anyways at certain points on the strip they have bridges over the roads so that people do not walk across them and little walls to prevent people from wandering into the street...well drunken Tim decided that he could climb the wall and cross the street...no more than ten seconds later cops were pulling me over and saying over the loudspeaker, "What are you doing, what are you doing?" to which I threw up my hands and said, "Nothing, nothing"...they then explained to me that I had to walk up and over the streets and when they told me such, I reacted as if I were totally unaware of this. Ten seconds later on the bridge there were six ok looking girls walking together and one was wearing a shirt that was only opaque around her mammary region...I slurred to her "That shirt doesn't leave much to the imagination" to which she sluttily replied, "I know, do you like it?" I said, "I guess so" and she began making out with me. I shoved her off after about two seconds and ran away...saying No! NO!...it was really bizarre...once we got to margaritaville I drank about five more beers and then my antics on the way home were even more crazy...they included: trying to hand out the stripper cards with the mexicans, fake figure skating, shouting out "MIKE JONES", and shadow boxing with some man and pointing up at something repeatedly (no one knows what since I do not remember and no one was near me) there are some pictures I can link to this stuff as well...

-MORE TO COME>>>>

What am I doing?

What is to be said about my daily goals in life when I aspire, through verbal chicanery, to get a co-worker to say that she "dropped her kids off at the pool" just because she actually has children who work at a pool? Is this what levels I must stoop in order to amuse myself?

Well $3 margarita night was as fun as ever, but at one point at home after that I was talking to Logan and I thought of something to say, said it, and then moments later was not sure if I had said it yet, so I said it again. Not exactly the craziest moment in the history of mankind, but it does offer a glimpse of my state of mind. I also thought I heard my dog, Wrigley giggle last night. It was just such a strange noise that I think it may have been laughing, and she was definitely mocking me...luckily then I called her a "mark-ass trick" in a sign-song voice and she happily ran over to me...silly dogs.

Maybe not being busy at work is not so bad

In an alternate universe, I could have spent the entire morning researching an obscure tax issue. Instead, I just spent 45 minutes trying to outbox a bowl of oatmeal, a muffin, and a sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich. (www.frusion.com). I could not defeat the morning time heart attack sandwich.

You'd think that being in the unique position of having received a weiner wakeup, I would not recount the story. Yet last night, I told it to about 10 people I had just met. The weiner wakeup occured during my sophomore year of college when, while in an advanced stage of drunkeness, I passed out in my room with the door open, lights on, music blaring...the whole nine yeards. My very good friends decided to imitate a Steve-O (of Jackass fame) DVD and to strip naked and jump around on the bed until I woke up and they decided to video tape it. So they succeeded in their mission, except one guy tripped when I was covering my face and punching with my other arm and would have struck my face with two certain objects that males posses had I not been covering it. It was a life defining experience. But not my life.

Whistle While You Work (but I like whistling, so can't we do it some other time?)

As my co-worker Paul and I had the a fight with the leaves of the mother-in-law's tongue that U had ripped off the plant downstairs, I imagined a scenario where my boss Dennis found us and instead of being angry joined the fight...but then again this would never happen in a real world situation as Dennis' favorite battling plant is a saguarro cactus.

On Friday night I was just hanging out and then I decided to go buy some frosty brews to enjoy. It ended up being a handle of Jim Beam and between me and my friend Trevor there was nothing left by the end of the night. The range of subject matter discussed that night is tough to imagine, but given our intoxication, is not really so hard. Here is a sample conversation:

Trevor: "Who is the person you would want to play most with in intramural basketball?"
Tim: I think Kim Jong-Il
Trevor: What? Are you joking?
Tim: No way the man made 14 holes-in-one the first time he ever played golf...he would be a man child on the b-ball court

That was the way the night went as I recalled bits and pieces the next day. And the burn mark on the back porch made me most clearly recall finding a box of snakes (the little tiny "firework" that grows out of nothing) and setting them on fire on the back porch as we watched in humored, drunken amazement. Ay yi yi.