WE SLEEP 18 HOURS BUT WE ALWAYS PARTY 24

Sloths will fuck your world up. WEAR IT! I am half tempted to just to head to South America and hang out with some of these three toed bastards. Talk about a leisurely life...a leisurely life of sleeping, drinking, shanking people and doing other people's girlfriends. Oh hell no. (By that I mean yes. It's one of those sarcastic statements I have been known to use every 3rd sentence)



http://www.clipstr.com/videos/SNLSloths/



I believe I am starting a turn back towards being a smarty pants, or at the very least, an educated pair of shorts. I trace this to my radio listening. There was a time not so long ago when I wanted to, during any commute, listen to phone pranks as played by radio stations, typically with lots of farting noises. This was also during a brown liquor phase of my life, (XVII) not to be confused with the current longing for brown liquor phase of life (the II, the first being age 3-17) that I am in mainly due to responding to my body and it's desire for sleep and my liver taking a minor sabbatical. Then something happened. I started once again listening to NPR all the time. What a nerd. But at the same time, not nerdy. Classy. Elegant. Smart. Sophisticated. En Fuego. Pantsless. Frenetic. Antidisestablishmentarianism. Pi. &^%$! You get what I'm saying? Regardless, I am captivated by the Marketplace program every evening. Which means, maybe I am interested in that kind of stuff. The world markets and stocks and finance really do get my wheels a turnin. Maybe I need to turn into a financial humor blogger:



The Dow Jones Industrial Average (which sucks the C of the Wilshire Index, in this writer's humble opinion) has been jumping up and down, some days up like Shawn Kemp of his Supersonics day, some days like Shawn Kemp after he got all fat and whatnot, and some days going down like the balance of Shawn Kemp's bank account after he finds out about yet another child he has fathered. (Okay, so that was more like a financial, non humor, Shawn Kemp related blog. It would be one of the top 15 Shawn Kemp related blogs, for sure)

To continue to snooty economics lesson (Shawn Kemp included. He supports a small nation worth of children and an economic study of the amount of televisions he has purchased as well as buyouts he has given to women to keep them from filing paternity suits would be very interesting) But with the recent financial bailout, the government has named part of the program T.A.R.P. (Troubled Asset Relief Program). I, however, have a problem with this acronym. Have you ever ysed a tarp? They are a stopgap solution, a patch in the roof of homeless man's cardboard abode, something that your Dad throws over something that he does not know how to fix or is leaking for whatever reason...so why US government why? Couldn't you have come up with some sort of acronym like H.A.M.M.E.R.? (Hastened Assistence Program for Macroeconomic and Microeconomic Error Reform) The point is it does not matter what the letters stand for- this is Merica! Give me something better then T.A.R.P.- B.O.N.E.S.A.W. Think how much better that would be- and how it would look to the rest of the global financial markets?

US UNVIELS PLAN, NAMED BONESAW TO FIX ECONOMY

instead of the lame-o

US THROWS TARP OVER SHITTY ECONOMY
(that was an actual NY Times headline a couple weeks ago)

Old people, and companies and marketing for companies done by old people- the slang term for the internet of the "web" has nothing to do with an actual web. Nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Which is why I want to ask these companies why they have billboards that say "Find us on the Web!" and typically feature- and I am not making this up- caricaturized faces of company employees heads on the bodies of spiders sitting on a spider web. Seriously? You couldn't put a picture of a computer or something? Had to use the old half human spider on an actual spider web? Really? IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SPIDERWEBS EVEN IF YOU WANT TO CALL IT THE "WEB". If that is all your marketing team can come up with, call me...I will gladly take your money and come up with a better billboard or way of letting people know you can be found on the internet.

Alright, I feel like I am ranting worse than that old guy with eyebrows even bigger than mine from 60 Minutes. KONICHIWA.

Well well well....

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I apologize is the same as I'm sorry.....unless you're at a funeral

I have moved to Seattle, it's official. By that I mean Chicago has taken on this state where it is raining all the time and people are constantly galoshing about. I personally pretend it is not raining, yet people take my comments of "beautiful day, isn't it?" as some sort of extreme sarcasm. Think about it, things could be a lot worse then a little water. I personally, and maybe this is what seperates me, purposely search out water everyday and use it, in close connection with soap and shampoo, to clean myself. These people act like some sort of wicked witches of the west wherein the rain with each connection to their skin has an awful acidic effect and burns them. If that is the case, I do not wish to make light of people of such awful condition. Just keep covered up you assholes.

Now for a fine installment in a series I call:

PEOPLE I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND NO MATTER HOW MUCH MENTAL CAPACITY I DEVOTE (which on rare occasions is sometimes up to 3% of available capacity..the other 97% is involved in thinking about the Cubs, fantasy sports, my thirst level, and some sort of ranking system for cheeses that I like....provolone has ranked anywhere from one to seven)

John Mayer- This guy, along with Tom Brady, Derek Jeter, and Matthew McConaughey have bedded 99% of the women on Earth. Tom Brady and Derek Jeter make sense, they are both aliens. Matthew McConaughey doesn't wear deodorant so women go for his ruggedness or something. But John Mayer, really? I mean I guess he can tell every woman he meets he wrote "Your Body is a Wonderland" for her, but the song has been out for quite a while now. Why should women like Jen Anniston and Jessica Simpson fall for this? I have had a hard enough time convincing Alana that the mashed potatoes I made for dinner were actually made by me from actual potatoes rather than ordered...and that is not even anywhere near the same level of suggesting I wrote a song for her. (Which does not mean I have thought about telling Alana I wrote that song, but I figure Alana would have either a)heard the song before and called me out on it or b) told me the song was so great that I should go play my song for a music exec at which time I would be stucj karaoking Mack the knife which would only lead to a minimal record deal. Tim Radway does not accept minimal record deals) I mean, I guess John Mayer has some talent but enough to overcome having the largest head in whatever hemisphere he is currently located? Or enough to overcome repeatedly saying "say what you mean to say" to everyone all the time? Yeah, probably not. Weirdo. I just don't get it.

Asteroid Movies? Where Have you Gone?

As I sit here watching Deep Impact, I wonder what happened that caused Hollywood to come up with so many asteroid destroying the Earth type plots. True, I can only come up with like three of them (and one I am not even sure what it was about)- Deep Impact, Armageddon and Space Cowboys (which may have just been a long Viagra ad for all I know) . As far as I know, there has been no actual threat of asteroid or comet impact to the Earth since...well...the dinosaurs. But a slew of movies came out all the same. These are my thoughts on these films:

1. There is always some new futuristic space craft ready to go to send some sort of renegade flight crew/people getting a second chance/older people who have one last shot at glory/Russian people to destroy the ballistic coming towards the Earth. Where are these futuristic crafts? Does NASA just have them hidden somewhere waiting for something to be headed for the Earth? Also, at this point I feel like sending Bruce Willis or Robert Duvall up in the flight crew might be a good idea, those guys are fearless leaders, with lots of asteroid/comet destorying experiences. Beware of the renegade foreigner/Russian. They always seem to have differing opinions on how the mission should be run and a propensity to be drunk. Also don't send Jon Favreau, he already floated away into space, and plus is way too fat to fit into a space costume (haha, yeah I said space costume, and do to my firm policy on not backspacing and deleting words, it's staying that way) .

2. Morgan Freeman should be the President. Screw Barack Obama. Tell me Morgan Freeman would not be an awesome President. Seriously, give me ten reasons why.

3. If they told me a comet was going to hit the Earth, and I was not one of the special people chosen to go live in the protected cave or whatever, I am pretty sure I would become lawless. All these people in the movies seem to do is spend time with their loved ones and talk. I am pretty sure I would steal, get drunk, and do all sorts of things that can't really be mentioned here. I am sure then when the comet hit the Earth a few days later and got deflected or something, I would have hell to pay, but why not give it a whirl.

Racial Slur? (shrugs shoulders)

I really hope someone can help me out on this one. Is the phrase "selling you up the river" racist? It seems like it might be related to slaves. If so, I should stop using it, about 20 minutes ago. If I have used this phrase to anyone recently, my sincerest apologies. The meaning I was trying to infer more had something to do with that town up the river where you sell things but they always trick you and use evil trickery. Like Cincinnati, that would be a place up a river to get sold. I never said anything about getting bought up the river. So again, my apologies.

Onward and upward with some phrase stuff. Since the Olympics are going on there are probably thousands of people who are broadcasting these games that just suck. The word, my friends, to describe who someone is competing against, is VERSUS, not VERSE. Versus, like that weird channel that shows god knows what, not verse like the separation parts for songs or poems, or haikus of awesome:

I drank whiskey yes
Slurs tossed around drunkenly
Sorry Barack , oops

Bad news, children. Mr. Bubble is dead. Sorry to put it so bluntly. The company that makes that product as well as Binaka (which, if they could have folded well before Dumb and Dumber came out and thusly caused millions to not get sprayed in the eye by the spray breath freshener, not to mention have to force fake laughter at the countless youth imitating the wrong direction blast as made famous by Jim Carrey) just filed for bankruptcy. And since I found this out through some non academic place, they just said the bad kind of bankruptcy. Which is good since who really knows the differences anyways...I think Chapter 11 is the one that is harder to file now, but still keeps you in business.

TUNAK TUNAK

SABADO GIGANTE!!!

Pet dogs are weird. They are like the grown up version of the stuffed animal. These little furry creatures that we feed, care for, and generally rule over. I guess everyone has a little leader in them, unless of course they are pansies and somehow their dog has them resigning quicker than pervez musharraf. I guess that would be funny if you went home from work where you had to listen to a bunch of wanker nonsense from some boss you don't resepect and had your dog actually lord over you. Needless to say, my dog is a little ball of fur who will lay on her back and listen to me. I am like the Woodrow Wilson of dog owners (create your own analogy..I can't do all the work here).

I wish American television would seem so exciting as Spanish speaking programmed channels. There is always yelling, confetti, bright lights, weird random music, large breasted women dressed in a most intriguing manner- and this is 24 hours a day. Even the childrens programs seem more exciting- as if the bright colors, simple language and all that whatnot involved in childrens shows are magnified by yelling the words, confetti, and boobies. Just my observant self. There is this car wash that I use sometimes and there are guys at the end of the automatic wash waiting to dry your cars and they are always transfixed on Univision, or my fave TELLLLLL-UHHHHHH-MOOOOOOOOON-DOOOOOOOOEEEEEEE. What a life. I figured that if the average person gave them a two dollar tip and on a busy day 200 cars came through, well....yeah, you get it.

I have had dreams recently of being without automobile. Not in an effort to be more green or anything lame like that, I think rather I may just be tiring of cars. Come on scientists- it's 2008, aren't we supposed to be flying by now? Where the hell is my jetpack already bastardos? Or at least warp tubes. I know this oddly dressed red overall wearing Italian plumber fellow who has been using an intricate warp tube system for years. He also can shoot fire out of his hands. Me- no fire out of my hands, warp tubes, or jet packs. Assholes. Work on it.

Twenty Menudos

Someone who lives in my building, yet someone I have never seen, parks their red Honda Civic on the parking pad in the rear of the building. They have a very particular vanity license plate "MUFFY2U". So I have resorted to referring to this general unknown person as "Muffy To Me", as I guess that is what they want me to call them if you flip all the nonsense around. But why is their car always here? Why do they want me to call them Muffy? Do they stay inside since they bear a resemblance to the Muffy character from Arthur? These questions eat at me day and night (4 seconds each day, and usually a nanosecond of time each night.)

I am in general disagreement with the notion of Michael Phelps as one of the greatest athletes of all time. I do think he is probably one of the greatest swimmers of all time, but swimming does not translate to athleticism. I mean, Michael Phelps looks like he would be extremely awkward with his extra long monkey torso playing pretty much any other sport, and that my friends, does not a great athlete make. Maybe water basketball he would exceed at, but not too much else. Jim Thorpe, apparently was a great athlete (as well as a legit firewater loving indian ((feather)), Bo Jackson, before being too great of an athlete and breaking his hip, was a great athlete. Deion Sanders, great athlete. Michael Phelps, great SWIMMER. Don't get it twisted.

Sometimes I get little snippets of ideas for things that would be great in standup routines, but I have yet to really muster up the courage to combine them all together and actually go on stage and perform them somewhere. The main reason, and I think this is a very valid reason- most standup routines have a little more than 45 seconds of material. It would be a short act, not necessarily leaving people the least bit fulfilled. Another issue is that so many things crack me up a great deal, so the things that I think that make me laugh might not be funny- like Beowulf related humor typically does not go over well with the masses. Didn't everyone have to read that?

The Air and Water Show was this weekend in Chicago, so much of my time at home this weekend made it sound like an air raid was about to start, and that, in fact, whatever club in Boys Town was blasting the techno remix of "The Roof is On Fire" would for the first time, be a soothsaying DJ. I don't understand what all this air and water show fuss is about unless you like planes, are five, or have a favorite NASCAR driver. Those people get geeked up for any machine that goes fast. Weird. KONICHIWA.

You're so vain, you probably think this blog is about you, don't you?

I guess if you do think this blog is about you, then you are a really odd fish. Literally. Like some sort of strangely striped salmon or bass, with an odd attitude, a penchant for ethnic slurs and other racially devisive terminology coming out of your mouth, making you wonder why all the other fish stare at you. Probably because you use a computer, idiot. Or I guess I could take this in a nonfish direction, and think that there is some angry violent homeless man who regularly goes to the library to login in the internet and provied 31 of the 34 hits I receive to this blog. Each time he decides that his increasing anger regarding me writing a blog that is basically mocking his existence, he musters up the courage to leave a comment, but then remembers how long typing takes him since he lost all the ends of his fingers to frostbite last winter. Sorry homeless patronizer and subject of all my writings.

As I was heading to a party last week I lent some thoughts to the things people bring to parties and what you can tell about these people based on the items. And before I make it sound like I was just sitting around engaged in deep thought, I was just sitting around drinking some beers and watching the Cubs lose as I faded in and out of afternoon slumber, which is always the best time for deep afternoon thought.

The Guy Who Inexplicably Brings a Keg, Everytime, Even When You Are Trying to Keep Things a Little More Highbrow, you know, Because Your Grandma is There- You can't fault this guy. I mean really he is giving of his time, his money, and just really wants your party to be a fun time. But he will never get it. Sometimes it won't even be a party and here comes keg dude, to pre game, and he is late so there are only fiteen minutes left before you go out. Next thing you know you have a whole keg of some sweet ass apple juice beer like Coors Light sitting in a tub in your living room. But yeah, don't fault him, he just wants everyone to have a good time. Sometimes he does really get out of control with his charging for the keg, but only when you feed him brown liquor. (**Writer's Note- I sadly do not know this guy. Nor do any of my friends. We have been trying to find this guy to add to our fold. Applicants welcome)

The Guy Who Brings a 12 Pack of Snooty Beer, Implores Everyone to Share, But Sort of gets Mad when All His Beers are Gone After 15 Minutes and He Has to Drink Crap Beer- I always drink like four of this guys beers. Haha, that schmuck. I only bring a case of beer, and not great beer, when I call and ask if I should. Then I always get so pumped when I see the 11 Sierra Nevadas and excitedly ask whose they are and if I can have one. The guy always says, "Well yeah, I bought them for people to drink." Wrong choice of words, my friend. I will consume your beers as quickly as possible, and also, in the ultimate jerk move, hide one somewhere deep in the recesses of the fridge to grab one way later when all the other beers are gone. Don't be such a fool, and be on the lookout for me...

The Guy Who Always Makes the Offer to Bring Something, Usually Brings Nothing, and Preys on the Things Others Bring- I am more than willing to bring a case of beer, pickup some Jaeger or Red Bull for your party, but if you just tell me to bring something if I want to, the answer is no, no I do not want to. You have to be clear with me. Tell me to bring 68 beers, I will. For instance just last year before Vegas, I was talking to Brian and speaking generally about how since I was driving from California, I could use my Costco membership and bring copious amounts of liquor for our room, thus really changing the whole dynamic. Brian, knowing how I roll, then I believe expressly told me, "Bring 6 cases of beer, and five handles of liquor- but no tequila. And don't forget ice." Then I showed up with about 124 beers and five handles of liquor, a man of my word. And even more so, as I feel this is my role, I never ask for recompensation until I am drunk and ask you to buy every beer of mine when out that night.

The Guy Who Wants to Hookup With A Girl And Brings a Bottle of Tequila and Even Those Little Tiny Plastic Shot Glasses- We all know this guy, he is probably recently single, or just rather coquettish, and always trying to meet up with your girlfriends friends or your little sister or something like that. He means well enough, although his tactics can definitely be questioned. Women of the world, it is up to you to deal with this guy, you must implore him to do a shot with you, then somehow not do a shot and get him to do both. Then he ends up passed out, drawn on, with various amounts of toilet paper strewn about him. Eventually he learns that the bottle of tequila is not such a great idea.

The Guy Who Wants to Hookup With A Girl And Brings a Bottle of Schanppes- Just like the guy above, but on a little more of a budget. He, due to the decreased potentcy of his beverage, is one to be less weary of. And speaking of money...

The Guy Who Calls to Ask What To Bring Beforehand, Says He will Bring "Something", Then Just Shows Up With a 40- This guy tried to be polite, but he really needs to come to your party just to let loose since he has been so financially stressed lately. So he shows up with his 40 of King Cobra in a bag, then proceeds to drink from the keg, the snooty beer, the tequila, and the schnappes. After like the eighth party of the guy doing this, you know who he is and finally expect it from him. But nothing really needs to be done about him unless you have like eight of these friends and none of the other friends.

Wow, I am glad I was able to get that all out. I am trying to recommit to this bloggernautdom. Believe it or not, it has been nearly three years now of this nonsense getting spewed out to the world. Which is why, I will now, in this sentence, recommit to a weekly post, and in addition, in between, a daily segment called "20 Minutes", which will be exactly that, 20 Minutes of my writing. It might be funny, it might be autobiographical, it might be 78 haikus churned out. Stay tuned. Konichiwa.

You know I have soft teeth. How could you say that?

Dear Dad,

Just because you grew up throwing right handed, does not mean that I had to be forced down the same path. By giving me that glove to wear on my left hand, and surrounding me with millions of others of threw with their right hand, I have been robbed of millions of dollars- millions of dollars, I might add, for being mediocre with my other hand. Had I, a 6' 4", 210 pound man, been allowed to throw, even crappily and in the mid 80's with my left hand, I would spend my time blogging only between craptastic relief appearances for various Major League and Japanese baseball teams. Even if I had one good season of effectiveness, the Yankees would throw a huge contract my way and I could struggle my way through the next few seasons, before retiring and wisely investing my millions before a long and illustrious career as a slightly off color color guy for the Cubs TV broadcasts.

In case you might say, "Tim, just try to throw left handed now, you are not that old." I say this to you, "Yes I am too old. My left hand, although used for many functions in my life and my left handedness, when forced into throwing action, is just as womanly and slightly queer as when most people throw with their off throwing hand. I look like a little girl. My body is confused why I am not just using the other hand which can throw decently."

I will give you this, at least my right handed throwing has always been a little better than anyone elses, but the dream of being the next Jesse Orosco, Kent Mercker, or depending on my love of food and drink, Ray King, have all been dashed.

Love,
Tim, ambidextrous son yet right handed only thrower


Long time NCAA basketball analyst and man I hate (thrice winning the People I Hate Most This Year: TV Edition Man of the Year Award) Billy Packer announced his retirement. Thank you Jesus. Anyways, I am glad he is gone but still heard a snippet of an interview he did the following day after this was all announced. In this snippet, Packer announced that he did have to admit that he twice had a bias when broadcasting a game. Anyone who ever listened to a Packer commentated game, particularly a U of L game, he always seemed to have a bias. So he revealed the two games, and neither was a U of L game! I have no clue how many times U of L would be crushing an opponent and Packer would make a degrading comment about their play or about the superior play of the team opposing them. Something like, "The Cardinals really need to quit forcing so much pressure and in doing so allow so many easy fastbreak baskets." Then a stat would pop up moments later "STATS FORCED BY PRESS TODAY: LOUISVILLE 18 POINTS OFF: 32 FAST BREAK POINTS ALLOWED: 4". So, no bias, Packer? I even remember when I was young my Mom encouraging us to count the inbounds time by saying "One billypacker is an idiot, two billypacker is an idiot, etc...". Billy Packer, you will not be missed. But, you might finally get that lifetime achievement award in the People I Hate Awards this year.

Sometimes, standup comics ask those questions to engage the audience, you know, questions about acitivites, things like, "So how many of you have ever rollerbladed?" or "How many divorced people do we have here tonight?" You know, pretty standard questions that everyone in the audience might not have done, but at least some people have done. Well the other day I was listening to this standup and he seemed to be really off with this whole process. He first asked, "How many of you have been to the grocery store?" Well yes, a few people in the crowd had been to the grocery store, however unbelievable that may be. Then a few minutes later he asked some questioon about the number of people who had done something like looked at their pets through amorous eyes. Maybe it was all part of his patter, but it was most odd. Maybe it was the guys first show or it was some special like "Standups from Prison". I really don't know sometimes. I don't. At all.

KONICHIWA.

PC load letter? What the fuck does that mean?

I must admit- I never have really understood parades. Maybe its because I never have been to a true celebration parade where you want to really get fired up to commend someone for recent victory. Maybe its because the Pegasus Parade I used to attend growing up main facet of excitement was the people who cleaned up horse doo and the shriners in their mini cars. I just don't know what it is. I have seen many parades, been in parades, watched parades on television- today listened to a parade (the gay pride parade is going on in full effect a couple blocks away from me, and I must say, there are some fired up parade goers over there). I am so totally over parades though. I just don't grasp the whole point of them- especially when people who are simply going to watch a parade get dressed up all crazy and get just as weirded up as some of those in the parade. It's some sort of parallelism where everyone at the parade- both those in it and those watching- want to be seen by everyone. There are only about two parades I would want to be at in the future: A Cubs World Series celebration parade and a parade generally lauding me. Hey, both could happen. Imagine everyone in their Tim costumes holding up signs with quotes that I had once famously spoken (sigh), it will be great. And I guess I will go...and one of the more exciting things for parade attendees will be the people who run behind me and scoop up my poop once I get out of the shriner mini car I ride around in (why would I want to ruin the best elements of any parade?)

Always be sure to use extra care when asking the question, "Is That Too Much to Ask?" if in fact, it turns out it IS too much to ask. I really have no elaboration for that, it's something I woke up and wrote down in the middle of the night. I guess it seemed funny/important/relevant at that moment in time.

A LIST OF UPDATED FEARS:

1. A cat sucking out my breath while I sleep.

This is why I am always extremely weary of letting myself nod off while cat's are present or have the potential to to be present. For instance, if I tire in a pet store, even if it currently has not received its most recent shipment of cats and is out, I cannot fall asleep since I consulted with management and they are expecting the next shipment soon. No, this did not really happen. Or maybe a little bit of it did.

2. A brain freeze that does not go away.

Brain freezes suck, why would I want a neverending one. That's why I always keep it a tad slow with the slurpees, slushess, and all other cold drinks. Except for margaritas.

3. Not liking beer and instead being really into flavored martini's.

I am a man. I own a shirt that says "it's mother fucking booze time". If such a scenario as the one described aboe occurred, I am pretty sure I don't even get to defend myself in a trial to keep my man card. And I probably have to give that shirt away as well.


I frequently drive on Lower Wacker Drive. I always try to observe the 30 mph speed limit, but then I always feel like I am playing Cruisn USA and there never seem to be police officers around. However, I have a feeling that this explanation to them would not work out that well, nor would a horrific fiery crash end up with my unadulterated car reappearing on the road flashing three times and allowing me to continue, albeit behind my competition.

Unfortunately after my last post, where I urged people to help me out with the formation of tacosmadebyapirate.com I received not much of a groundswell. By that, I mean no one responded to me in anyway. Worry not, I will take care of this on my own. Someone could have been really cashing in (any time I received a nickel as change I was going to give it up) as the pirate on my site- this, no more. Someone could have been my "slur watcher" to make sure I only used ethnic slurs when I thought they were really funny and sort of fit in. No more. Oh well. (But please, please help.)

TACOSMADEBYAPIRATE.COM

If anyone is still out there, reading my mental spew, enjoying it the way a bum enjoys making a new cardboard sign, checking back every few days to see if I have written something new (even though it is sort of a duh sort of thing since I suck big ones at writing this thingamajiggy too often now), then help me out. But only if you know something about website design, and want to donate some time and beer to me. Mainly the time. The beer would make you a better friend though. I want to bring this thing big time at , big time at tacosmadebyapirate.com. Where did this brilliant website title come from you may ask? (or you might not wonder about things like this anymore. you really should) Last weekend when the fam was up here for the Cubs game, after a day of frosty brews at the game and more beers afterwards, I was naming places to eat in the area, telling Nora that one of the options was evidently a restaurant named tacosmadebyapirate.com So I want that site, I lust for that site, I imagine this blog, funny vidoes of me, and videos of giraffes doing it on the site. I envision the site with a background of a pirate actually, in fact, making a taco. Flyers will then be put up around Chicago, New York and other cities, saying the name of the site. I urge you to find people who will not have their interest piqued by seeing a flyer with this website name on it. BAM ( Like Emeril but better) then people end up coming back, mainly with the hope I have added many more videos of the giraffes getting busy with it. In the end, it will end up being a site where you can watch videos of giraffes necking (pun intended) and buy t-shirts with giraffes doing it on it. But, for a short period of time you can also read this poop. This poop which by that point will hopefully be like a man on a well fiber regulated diet...which should be almost daily or something. And the search for giraffe action will have to be frequent too. So please shoot an e-mail to tradway@hotmail.com if you want to design me a site. I will also let you buy me that beer. Shit god damn I am benevolent.

So, after that Cubs game last weekend we were hanging out after the game at my new Wrigleyville abode and Paul called me and said that he had a surprise guest with him. I knew Brian was with Paul, and no offense to him, but he is not either surprising to me nor that much of a guest (my whole theory on the not a guest thing is you lose lotf of guest creedence when you will poop where you are, then openly boast about how smelly it was...that's beyond guest comfort level) so I had really zero clue who it could be. Much to my shock who walked in but none other then famous Cubs fan Ronnie Woo Woo. If you are a Cubs fan you know this man. He wears a Cubs uniform, and says Woo about a million times. He proceeded to woo it up a lot, and hang out for about an hour or so and drink a bunch of cola. It was all a very surreal experience as the picture that follows which looks very photoshopped will indicate.

Last Saturday and the drunken times that it included were eivdently a wealth of ideas for me. Piratesmadebyataco.com was the first, and the second was a tad more puzzling, but comic nonetheless...I began talking about how I was going to write a play about...get ready for this...the Wutang Clan. I am pretty sure this is a perfect project for myself and former blogoff comrade Trevor "Albino For Life" Giancarlo. The intrigue, the lust, the humorous times of the Wutang Clan all chronicled in three brilliant captivating acts.

I feel bad for people who have the same name as famous people. While at the same time wondering why they continue to stay in that situation. For instance, the other day I was listening to ESPN Radio and they were talking about something horse racing related and called upon ESPN's own horse racing expert...Randy Moss. Before he came on the radio a flurry of thoughts went through my head anout Randy Moss. "Man that guy does more than just play great WR" "I had no clue that Randy Moss would know so much about horse racing" "Why are the Tiger Woods Gatorade flavors so much better?" "Is it wrong to wonder what if about ridiculous things?" Then horse racing expert Randy Moss came on, and no, it was definitely not the wide receiver from the New England Patriots. A google search revealed that he in fact a short white bald man(to the left: imposter Randy Moss) A lot more fitting I guess. Shouldn't he be required to go by Randall or something like that? Then I was listening to the NPR and the head of some nimby pamby organization is named Hugh Grant. It was once again not THE Hugh Grant. After the other Hugh Grant picked up that hooker, name change time. Silly man. Plus this other Hugh was not even British and I bet women were let down constantly when they met him. Imagine letdown like that before you had even met someone.

Opinion poll: Am I awesome?

Yes

OR

Of Course

Please cast your votes.

Ham Sandwiches $350.00

Decimal points, it turns out, are important, much to the delight of every sixth grade math teacher around the world. I guess way too many zeros on a number can also be a tad not helpful. So this all makes sense, allow me to tell you about the billboard that I saw the other day. It was at one of those VFW Posts and they had a sign advertising the food specials. It read “Friday All You Can Eat Fish Fry $7.99…Ham Sandwiches $350.00” So a few things could have led to this sign: 1) They were really really trying to sell the fish. 2)They only had one ham sandwich. Pure supply and demand situation. 3)The person who posted the prices on the board had no knowledge of numbers, decimals, or really that much at all (in fact I think fish may have been spelled “fush”) 4)Ham is far more delicious than the last time I ate it, and worth $350 for a sandwich. 5)Ham also has become a precious commodity. I think option number 4 is the most realistic.

So, this whole Exxon Valdez tanker spill thing happened a while back…something like 1988 (do not check any fact for historical accuracy as I really have no clue. Shut up as well). So I was only five at the time and remember nothing more about it except for the fact that for some reason all birds up in that region were really really covered in oil. I did not really put two and two together and figure that this was due to an oil spill, but rather I instead just thought that the water by Alaska and the animals there were just some oily fucks. Of course now that I am a wise old sage, I know that really a boat crashed, it was filled with oil, and this resulted in a bunch of oil being everywhere, animals learning to live in oil and make resulting Disney films about their love of living in oil (remember that song, “I love living in oil/ almost as much as I love Adonal Foyle/ living in water was no fun/ Bambi’s mom got shot with a gun), the TV series Northern Exposure, and the unfortunate comedy of Carrot Top.

But, in my sage old age, I also recently found out the reason for this oil tanker crashing: the captain of the boat was wasted, and was a known wastoid. This is fucking hilarious. The captain had a drinking problem that Exxon (and Valdez for that matter, who was always busy humping donkeys and was far more interested in coffee than oil than his older half brother, Pablo Exxon) knew about all along, had made him go to rehab for a few times, and were fully aware that he might still be drinking as he piloted around tankers. I also was fortunate enough to hear the audio of this drunken Captain (Morgan perhaps?) reporting his crash and subsequent spill to the Coast Guard. It sounded like your typical “Ummm, bro, I sort of parked your car really close to the stop sign.” “How close?” “Ummm…yeah, you might try and stand it up tomorrow after you move your car next.” “Are you serious?” The radio in to the Coast Guard might as well have been pretty much identical. “Ummm…this is the Captain of the Exxon Valdez, we may have hit something and seem to be leaking some oil.” “Bro, are you serious, just like a small leak or what?” “Ummm, sort of I hit a rock and all the millions of gallons of oil have left my ship. Like if you added vinegar right now you could make some serious salad dressing.” “Salad dressing is not made with that kind…that’s beside the point…are you wasted?” “(Giggling)”

So after hearing this story and finding that Exxon is trying to avoid paying some sort of crazy fine, I just want to laugh and also hear an update about the captain of that ship. Is he still making as many bad decisions? Has some major corporation enabled to wreak as much havoc yet or what?” Think of the other companies he could work for and the problems he could cause. (No this is not one of those times where I then list a few companies and take care of all the wit for you. Just imagine a really drunk dude working pretty much anywhere. It’s funny)
KONICHIWA.

Because I wanna

Sometimes language and linguistics really throws some things for a loop. For instance, in French, you might casually say “Vous n’avez rien envier a Bob Dole, et aussi votre tete a la forme d’un pamplemousse.” A loving compliment, right? But what if I told you it means, “Bob Dole has nothing on you, and also your head is the shape of a grapefruit.” Not such a loving compliment anymore, is it? Alright, so that is not really the point of what I am talking about. What I want to talk about more are the words a “couple”and a “few”. A couple is two. A few is any number greater than two with no particular limit but not really some huge number. That is that. Things that are couples: two people dating, the little holes that you plug things into (obviously not a three pronged one…that’s like a freaky deeky plug),and ummm…lots more stuff. I can’t really think of any. Screw you. But if you too casually toss around this word when you don’t actually mean it or just substitute a few when you mean actually just two …well it can lead to some trouble: allow me to give some examples:

r) god tells Noah to just bring a “few” of each animal. Chaos ensues. Next thing you know the 27 panthers Noah brought have eaten all seven chickens. Noah then gets hungry and eats the first ever panther stuffed with chicken. A Serbian national dish is born (best with side of cous cous infused in zucchini oils)

7) Man asks new girlfriend out of shameless curiosity how many other men she has “been with”. She says a few. He interprets that she has made films where records for sleeping with men are broken in 28 minutes.

XVIILB) Morbidly obese man at Hooters orders (due to some sort of odd speech pattern and vernacular) a “couple of da wings and a couple of da fries”. The waitress, a blonde who takes everything extremely literally yet cannot define the word literally, brings him two chicken wings and two fries. The morbidly obese man is so irate he eats a large portion of the Midwest, including Omaha, Nebraska. *Based on a true story.

Those new Cadillac commercials where Grey’s Anatomy lady says all that stuff about the car and then creepily utters, “But the real question is, when you turn your car on, does it return the favor?” I NEVER WANT TO LIKE A CAR THAT MUCH. (not to even begin to think about the driving difficulties posed for males/ potential ordeals with law enforcement should you be pulled over ((next thing you know you are canvassing neighborhoods telling them how you are a stage 2 sexual predator just because your car was so sexually appealing to you…you creepshow)) Cadillac, gear this back a little bit. Sure, your newly designed autos look pretty flipping sweet, but I do not think psychologists even have come up with a term for carsexual, unless the word is just that, carsexual. I guess I do know some creepy people that might actually be into that sort of stuff, people who are always talking about their “plans for their exhaust” or “what they put in their tank” or “how they did it in their trunk with a freaky girl/tranny hooker”. (actually there is a hilarious SNL skit about a car you can do…follow this link to watch it…)

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x11ok_pub-mercury-mistress_ads

As the winter roads are continually ravaged by snow, plows, angry moles, Mexicans, jackhammers, people with chained up tires, and a neverending ebb and flow of ice and water, a large number of potholes have emerged. I’ll admit, some of these potholes are incredibly large and have definitely inflicted a great number of flat tires. So, yeah, watch out for them, but no, do not slow down to a stop to drive through them at 2 miles per hour. Maybe this would not bug me as much if the main culprits of this slowing and stopping assholish maneuver were people who had Jeeps. Isn’t your vehicle supposed to be ruggedly driving over woodland creatures, yet you cannot handle a small bump in the road? Oh, that’s logical. Way to support your hardcore, flannel wearing, Jack drinking image by being afraid of these tiny holes. Candyasses. I drive a Honda Accord and am simply always trying to reach some sort of speed to fly over these potholes. I am a man though.

No, I have never seen Snakes on a Plane, nor snakes on a plane

Colors of the world, I've got beef. Not you, blue, red, green....you know, the normal colors (well most of them. orange, you are pretty normal but at the same time not. I'll get to you later). The colors offered in a box of crayolas, at the paint store, and pretty much everywhere have gotten totally out of hand.

SALMON YOU ARE NOT A COLOR. YOU ARE A FISH. YOU ARE A DELICIOUS FISH AT THAT. WHEN DID IT SUDDENLY NOT BECOME GOOD ENOUGH TO DESCRIBE SOMETHING AS "PINKISH" OR HAVING A HUE OF A COLOR? ALL OF A SUDDEN SOMEONE HAD TO SAY, "WELL SYLVESTER, THAT COLOR LOOKS JUST LIKE A SALMON FISH." THE OTHER DUDE OR LADY (OR LADYDUDE) SHOULD HAVE SMACKED THIS GUY UP THE HEAD AND ASKED HIM IF HE WAS HUNGRY/ HAD RICKETS/TRISKAIDEKAPHOBIA.

Really though, the whole fad then of naming colors food items has gone far enough. Macaroni and cheese? Salmon? Cafeteria gruel? Chateaubriand? What colors will be thought of next? Colors named after prepositions? On? At? In?

Additionally, orange and purple, you are being put on watch. First of all, you don't rhyme with anything and are always the cause of blame and downfall in drinking games. No color should be involved in a chicken or egg argument either...which came first the orange or the color orange? Who cares? As Demetri Martin said about oranges:

“i think they named oranges before they named carrots.‘what are these?’‘those are oranges.’‘what are these?’‘oh shit.’‘long pointies?’”

So, fuck you orange. And purple. Even though I have yet to eat a purple. Let's reign it in colors of the world. (And peach you are still okay. You give every caucasian grade schooler identity).

So yes, The New York Giants won the Super Bowl. However, I am very concerned that they actually lacked a true prankster. I say this because I was reading an article about Eli Manning's maturation and how he was also evidently the resident team jokester/prankman. Running back Brandon Jacobs had something sort of like this to say, "One day Eli switched the language on my cell phone to Spanish and I had to track down a maintenance worker to help me switch it back. Then later Eli asked me how my Spanish was. What a trickster." That is not a prank at all, nor would it be all that funny. In fact, Brandon Jacobs sounded a little pissed, like he may have wanted to prank Eli back with a tire iron. If there cannot be some middle ground in sports between Greg Maddux's hijnks of peeing on rookies in the shower and Eli Manning switching cell phone languages on his teammates phones, then what has the sporting world come to? Can I possibly get a job for several major sports franchises simply trying to keep things loose? I would neither urinate on anyone nor switch cell phone languages (except to possibly incite a Zambrano/Fukudome battle).

GAME OVER.

I’ll let you get all the arcade games and monkeys you want

I know, I know...I;ve been slacking. My blogs have been flying up about as fast as a sloth moves (which, by the way, much respect for sloths...whatever slow, dumb witted animal can sleep 18 hours but always parties 24?), about as fast as Rascal scooters for the elderly move, as rapidly as postcards sent from 1948 Kansas arrive at their destination (wasn't this some recent news story where a postcard took until this year to arrive? I think so. If I'm wrong, then fuck you.) But, logically, there is a reason for this slowdown....okay, no there is not. I can offer no real explanation as to why I have been able to plop down at my computer and pound out 20 minutes worth of ill grammared drivel. I did hire a room full of monkeys to pound at keyboards, and hopefully rather than produce a Shakespearean work, instead produce something I could publish as my own, but all they were interested in were feces flinging contests, which I obviously joined without putting up too much shit (ZING!). So, I have thought of some funny stuff, and I am going to try and put it into words, and if not words then at the very least into a complex rebusfor you to solve and and question my hatred for native Turkenmenistans and Djiboutians.


So, as any not blind people may have noticed the last few years, the funny t-shirt is huge right now. My sisters just got me a great one for Christmas that says "It's Mother Fuckin Booze Time". Classic pure stated elegance. However, just as MC Hammer pants (whatever the hell they actually were) once began to saturate the market, just how evey clothing trend I choose eventually picks up, I am beginning to wonder if it is time to move away from the funny t-shirt...like quite the opposiute; serious t-shirts. I am seriously wondering if I started wearing these, if other people would want to jump on board. Naturally, at first they would be seen as shirts so serious that they were funny, until I eventually would state that I was serious about how serious they were. Here are some examples of shirts I would wear:

"James Madison: Our Nation's 4th President"
"Tetris: I think it was made in Russia"
"Beer Is Made of Fermented Hops and Barley"
"You Cannot Dig a Hole to China"
"Ketchup is Made of Tomatoes"
"Germans Just Sound Really Angry"

I really think this idea could catch on. It would be one of those uber trendy things that eventually everyone would start doing and I would switch back to actual funny shirts (I still really want to get a "You say potato, I say fuck you" and a "Drink Apple Juice, OJ Will Kill You" shirt, but I might have to wait to wear them until after my serious t shirt agenda is finished.

A few months ago or something like that, Miller introduced an ignorant new product, Miller Chill, which I believe they intended to compete with Corona...just one problem Miller Chill has the lime juice and salt already mixed into it, Corona you can add that as much or as little as you want. This whole idea of making a pre mixed beer is disgusting. I have had one of these Miller Chill in my life and have since tried to rampage and break every bottle that I have seen since, which has caused me to get kicked out of seven bars, made me get into 15 fights, and I had to buy a case of Pink Lemonade Snapple for a homeless man due to a lost bet involving this Miller Chill. So, what's next beer and liquor industry? Worry not assholes, I have some ideas for you:

When a patron at a bar orders their 17th beer of the night, along with a shot, go ahead and add some puke in one of them. It's coming up at some point anyways.

When you order a shot of tequila or buy a bottle of tequila and do not clearly state that you are buying it as a gift for someone, the buyer or taker of the shot should just get punched in the face. If they wish, they should also be allowed to yell an ethnic slur beforehand since that is what you might be doing later anyways.

Bottles of whiskey will come with a list of ethnic/racial slurs to shout out. You will be doing this anyways. (Evidently I think pretty much all liquor induces slurs. Not from me. Mainly from Paul and Brian)

I do not believe that I have yet to comment at all on the Mitchell Report. I know how the players feel who were named in that report as due to my sometime crazy mood swings, have been accused of being on steroids. But then people would look at me and realize that I had very little muscle and did not have a giant head (it is pretty big, but not steroid big) . But, Stephen Colbert had a simple response to the steroid problem in baseball..to paraphrase: "If the main effects of baseball players doing steroids is that the youth will think it is a good idea to do them, then I have some words for the youth: Don't suck. If you do suck, do what you need to do to get by without ending up as an insurance salesman." Something like that was what he said, and it was so funny it was true. I really don't care if anyone did steroids, it still takes incredible skill to hit a 95mph fastball, to see a pitch and hit it, as well as to acquire a woman with your tiny tiny balls. So kudos, Barry Bonds.

That is all I have to offer for now, but I promise I will be back soon. KONICHIWA