Weekly Ruminations

2011 Suck my dick, be gone

2012-01-07T11:18:00.000-08:00

"Winter" has arrived in full effect in Chicago, but only if its full effect is a haphazard 25 degree day now and then. As I write this, it is currently in the high 40's and yesterday, it was in the 50's. This sort of winter was not one of the reasons that I have come to love Chicago, or realistically, anywhere that still has four actual seasons. That was one of the things that FREAKED me out about my very brief time living in California. Rain was apocalyptic and a drop to 68 degrees from the normal 72 was cause for people to wear sweaters and ask if I wanted to "curl up by a fire". Fuck no I did not want to curl up by a fire. If actual winter does not happen in Chicago this winter I will be pissed off. Without true winter in Chicago I would have missed some of these great life moments:

1) Getting to leave work early last winter on the blizzard day only to get bombed with co workers and fall through snow drifts on my way home LATE that night. 4 people, $800 tab, albeit in the financial district. But still, we did work.
2) Getting to walk down the middle of a deserted Halsted with Wrigley beagle completely immersed in snow. Despite the fact that the drifts were most certainly more than capable of covering her entire body, she loved jumping in them and snorting a bunch of snow and then sneezing. Her actions were the basis for the movie Blow.
3) Several years ago, when still living in Oak Park, we lived near a man made sledding hill. After a Saturday evening of fun, several of us had gone out to breakfast Sunday morning and when we were driving back from said meal, we were driving past the sledding hill. At that point I said, "Who dares me to roll down the hill with all the sledders?" As anyone who knows me will attest, when I ask to be dared, I'm pretty much just saying I will go do something. So, I marched to the top of the hill, told several little kids, "Time to get my roll on" then proceeded to roll down the hill and then run away back into an awaiting car. It's one of those moments that I imagine those kids and their accompanying parents that day still talk about whenever they go sledding, see snow, hear the word roll or see some big guy who they think has slight mental disabilities.

So Chicago, or Mr. Winter, or whomever the fuck is in charge (Tom Skilling? The Empire Carpet Guy? Poseidon?) Time to get the winter on. Now. There's not much time because by the time March 20 rolls around which is a glorious day thanks to me being born, it needs to be spring...with animals getting it on, flowers blooming and all that other spring crap.

While I am ranting like a lunatic at things that, as far as I know, do not read this blog, can anyone explain the weird new Toyota commercial that exists? At least, I think it is a Toyota commercial. I will try to explain it:

A bloated, weighty Kelly Clarkson is seen eating a corn dog and funnel cake and a Pandora music app button pops up, she tries to eat that too. Chris Berman, he of ESPN fame, is turned on and wants to get it on with her in a Toyota Camry (product placement alert!) But only if his creepy bro pals, James Lipton from Inside the Actors Studio (and better parodied on SNL by Will Ferrell) and Andrew Zimmer from Bizarre Foods (who says things on his show like "this slime texture that tastes like stale cat litter is really intriguing to me.... gotta love Korean food!") can ride in the backseat and watch. Berman tosses Clarkson the keys, she tries to catch them in her mouth like a skittle, but fails and instead she gets in the car and they all begin singing, what I assume is a Clarkson pre coital love song. I just wonder who she was going to eat when she was hungry. What an odd, odd ad. I am not really sure what is being advertised. Can someone explain?

World's Largest Carbon Footprint

2011-11-05T15:06:00.000-07:00

Ever since all of this hullabaloo began a few years of the reduction of one's carbon footprint, I have been trying to INCREASE my carbon footprint. Per this ecogreenIhopenobirdsgetstuckwiththosesixpackholdersstuckaroundtheirfaces website, this is the definition of carbon footprintage:

1. The primary footprint is a measure of our direct emissions of CO2 from the burning of fossil fuels including domestic energy consumption and transportation (e.g. car and plane). We have direct control of these.

2. The secondary footprint is a measure of the indirect CO2 emissions from the whole lifecycle of products we use - those associated with their manufacture and eventual breakdown. To put it very simply – the more we buy the more emissions will be caused on our behalf.

So, I have obviously been doing some things right in making my footprint more awesome, like:

-Leaving my stovetop burners on 24/7

-Leaving my oven on at a balmy 400

-Heat and or AC running all the time...once it reaches peak heat in the apartment, I crank up the AC...and the windows are always open so everything has to work extra hard

-I have installed several diesel engines to run things like my alarm clock, toothbrush (the taste is odd), and to help me lift my arms up in the air.

-I burn a shit ton of coal. Like more than the Southern Hemisphere. If I don't have a nice sooty fire going at all times, I wouldn't be doing my part. I also torch a lot of Prii in my spare time.

However, I have obviously been doing many things that are DECREASING my carbon footprint. I turn lights off when I leave a room, shut off faucets when I am not running the water, and worst of all, use public transit. I have a lot of work to do and therefore need to ride around in either old pickup trucks that spew out fuel or build a custom truck that gets 1 mile to the gallon. Either way, I'm gonna tear this shit up and my footprint will be the carboniest of them all, and maybe even some other chemical elements will be involved.

Also, why is the big trend in candy for the candy to feature "air"? I have seen many commercials for Hershey's chocolate featuring air. Should it cost a lot less since you don't get as much chocolate? Air is free. I mean, you don't want any of my air for free, but still. Come on ridiculous trends. Shut the fuck up.

"Even for the Internet....it's pretty shocking"

2011-09-13T19:14:00.000-07:00

It has been some time since I last let my thoughts spew onto the typed page, mainly due to the fact that I now seem to operating in some sort of 1920's existence. My wristwatch is desperately in need of a new battery, and initially, it would be five minutes behind after 24 hours. Well, I now have a full time position winding my watch to the correct time as it is now 5 minutes behind every 3 minutes. HA. I made a hilarious watch winding joke. Take that, those who said it couldn't be done!

Since I moved from the hustle and bustle of Lincoln Park in Chicago to the ironic facial haired land of skinny jeans, Logan Square, I have additionally had to adapt to living in a building with only one washer and one dryer. This would not be a big deal if it were located in my apartment, but alas, it is located in the basement and I am on the third floor. As a man who amasses about 145 pounds of laundry per time that I want to do my laundry, I have finally reunited with one of my favorite places; the laundromat. (Longtime readers of this spot will know about this love that I have for laundromats...http://tradwayone.blogspot.com/2007_09_01_archive.html read the Sep 20, 2007 entry) I, fortunately for all involved parties, have been keeping track of these trips to the laundromat, which in my hood, is called "Scrub a Dub"

Scrub a Dub 08/03/11

This place definitely used to be something much greater. A laundromat that other laundromats aspired to be like. I mean for God's sake there is a fluroescently lit "Kid's Korner" which now sits in an odd state- featuring what looks like the stuffed animal crane game and one of those recliner massage chairs. I had no idea kids were into those or needed that sort of relaxation, of course, the children in this neighborhood surely have a more difficult existence than the one I think of when I recall being a child (which mainly includes eating a SHIT TON of popsicles and trying to climb trees. Also being an asshole. Seems not much has changed. Except for the popsicle and tree climbing) The children around here might, in fact, actually be sent to do laundry. Anyways this facility is equipped with maybe 60 industrial dryers and the same amount of washers. Currently the machines are just under capacity and by that I mean maybe 12 are in use between myself and 3 other patrons. There are some dead plants, 6 old ass TV's playing nothing and the saddest looking employee in the world sitting behind a counter drinking a tamarind flavored drink. Maybe that's what's making her so sad? She couldn't get a normal flavor but rather got a great deal on some tamarind flavor and who the fuck even knows what that is? Everything here screams Miss Havisham's once great now dilapidated estate in Great Expectations, and I half expect to meet a hipster named Pip here sometime. I will ask him his thoughts on tamarind sodas.

Behind the counter with the girl in the tamarind induced depression, more signs of previous glory shine; a soda fountain featuring the very best Royal Crown products as well as a nacho cheese dispenser of some sort. Both look decidedly aged and aged about as well as someone who has been smoking Lucky Strikes since they were 12 (Ednas...these people are always named Edna. And they smell. Always). A bulletin board near the counter features, rather than neighborhood goings on, a number of rants by a man named Eugene. I guess we all need our forums. Eugene has chosen his and reaching a large number of people does not seem to be a goal of his. It would be like if Martin Luther had nailed his 95 Theses to a corkboard in a seldom used bathhouse of Wittenburg. AND also if Martin Luther did not care about religious reformation but instead about, and I quote, "has been spreading all that dog shit all around which is still day ruining to step in." Really Eugene? That's all it takes to ruin your day?

Scrub a Dub 08/15/11

There is a new owner! An ostentaciously dressed white man seemingly yelling his business plan at a grizzled older Hispanic fellow. Evidently number on on the plan is to "maintain these goddamned machines." From this I assume he just read Jack Welch's memoirs with a plan like that. Number one on grizzled old Hispanic man's plan is to try and politely leave this shouted at synergistic nightmare of a conversation. Sadly it seems he has merely the phrases he has picked up from Peter Francis Geraci commercials and Ronco rotisserie ads whirling through his mind, and he knows that either telling him about Chapter 13 bankruptcy or mesothelioma or "setting it and forgetting it" just wouldn't be right.

Scrub a Dub 09/10/11 "sempre con mio"

The changes that were promised are being made to return the Scrub a Dub to its glory days. $40 at a time. There is new shrubbery- roses and tiny ornamental grasses intricately planted in the beautiful gravel surrounding the parking lot. The counter inside, which as I mentioned previously was evidently there to sell fountain drinks and nachos to the starving, laundering masses, now is fully stocked with a dazzling array of laundry products. Big changes, right? The last time I was here I failed to write a log since I was more hungover than Benjamin Franklin on any morning, but had I done so I surely would have mentioned the number of women that were here inappropriately wearing leggings. If I wanted to watch sea lions mate, I would go to the zoo or sealionxxxaction.gov (an Al Gore sponsored site). These womean should be especially mindful of holes in their leggings. Realistically, the whole legging movement never should have started in the first place, but its new universal presence makes things even worse. I mean, if dudes started wearing jock straps outside their pants, I'd hope there would still be the sensible many who never gave in to this trend. Although I know a number of my friends would strap them on outside their embroidered fancy ass jeans and Ed Hardy or Affliction shirts and fedoras. Leggings as well as outer jock straps would just look silly on everyone, broham sandwich.

An act of chivalry gone Butch from Teen Mom

2011-07-23T08:42:00.000-07:00

Last night, as I made my way home just after midnight from a casual evening of drinking, I was walking down my fancy ass Lincoln Park street, jamming out to Regulators (mound up) and generally minding my own business. I was definitely looking forward to getting to sleep, exhausted by a second five day work week in a row after an 18 month layoff from anything but 4 day work weeks.

No more than two doors down from my building as I loudly crooned, "next stop is the Eeeeeassssst siiiiiddddeee moooooooteelllllllll" I saw a group of young ladies struggling to move their very drunk and very passed out friend from their front stoop. Now it being just past midnight and me having just loudly sounded (more than likely) just like Nate Dogg (RIP. Hold on, I have to go pour out some liquor) I just walked on by, leaving them to their struggles.

As I walked into my apartment however, I did some quick physics calculations:

Drunk person passed out= drunk person's normal weight times 78

Once I did this calculation and realized that the girls trying to move their passed out friend were the types who might complain about having to carry pretty much anything for more than ten feet, I knew I had to, at the very least, walk back over and offer to help out. This was definitely going to be a kind gesture, but it was not very well thought out.

For one, I have never been, and will never be a young girl. I don't have a frame of reference for a 6'4" giant hulk of a very good looking man to walk up to me after midnight in my neighborhood. I have no clue what it is like to walk around at night and feel frightened with every passing person (mainly because you can always bark at anyone. try it, womenfolk.) mainly because most everyone is smaller than me, and probably a little less crazy.

So I ventured back over and approached the three young women trying to move their friend. As I walked up in a totally unthreatening manner, I said, "Hi, as I walked past before I couldn't help but notice that you were having some trouble moving your friend. Would you like some help?"

As I mentioned before, this was uncalculated and this is where I may as well have been Butch from Teen Mom, the cocaine loving, mullet sporting creepy fuck and walked up to them and said, 'Hey, you girls like to party?"

The girls seemed gracious and creeped out all at once as their eyes darted back and forth to one another. One of them spoke up, "Oh thank you so much, but she's just sleeping."

I replied, again with no couth whatsoever, "Oh right, 'sleeping' (laughing) I love 'sleeping' outside after a fun Friday night. Listen, I know how hard it is to move a passed out person."

Right then I wished I could have taken my words back, because stepping outside the situation and assessing it, I may as well have offered them GHB and asked if they all wanted to come over.

The girls continued to fidget nervously, obviously hoping I would turn and sprint away. "Thank you so much for your offer, but I think we can handle it."

"Ok," I said, as I smiled and turned away.

Lesson learned. Let drunk people move their friends about on their own, unless you are asked to help.

There’s poison in that jar? I thought I was allergic to pickles. What’s in the jar with the skull and crossbones? Well, that’s mayonnaise It's a decoy

2011-06-21T14:31:00.000-07:00

Cat Stevens once crooned, "Ooooooo baby baby it's a wild world", at which point in time the statement itself drove him so crazy that he changed his name to Yusef Islam and opened a puppy mill, specializing in the cross breeding of large breeds and tiny ass purse size breeds. He also, wanting to prove how wild the world was opened "Yusef's Toast Emporium" which was a BYOT (bring your own toast) place where you told him upon what setting you wanted your bread toasted. Oddly, only the puppy mill proved to be a success. The toast idea, while intriguing, could take off at some point.

The reason I started this writing today with a direct excerpt from Wikipedia is that the world has taken on a wild new tilt lately. But no matter what, it's always crucial to remember as many Will Ferrell quotes as possible, think about squirrels doing dances to hip hop songs, and waiting for that day when senility creeps in and you can curse around little kids and pee in your pants.

Additionally perspective is always needed unless you want to always have only the most EXTREME points of view possible, which might be good if you are a snowboarder. But nothing in life is always "the most difficult", at least not yet. Wait until the machines take over. That will undoubtedly be more difficult, when you are forced to convince a car that you, in fact, cannot give it a ride somewhere. (Reference: Extreme Overdrive, honestly this will give you a better idea of some perspective for any current life situation)

In conclusion, I leave you with this brilliant quote:

Charlie: Do wasps make honey?
Dennis: No, wasps do not make honey.
Charlie: All right, well, I’m gonna check it out anyway; there could be something delicious in here that wasps do make, and I want that.

The place to be after the world ends

2011-05-18T09:23:00.000-07:00

According to some weirdo that for some reason was allowed on the radio, the world is ending this Saturday, May 21. This guy also said that the world was ending in 1994, so I am not exactly holding my breath over here.

BUT, contingency plans never hurt anyone.

If the world should end, I am going to hell. I've laughed at a few too many situations I probably should not have. It's ok, most of you are probably going to hell too. Resignation to this fact will make the commute that much easier.

I am concerned about making sure I meet up with some awesome people for all eternity. So, the plan is this:

Everyone who wants to have fun, meet in the room in hell where all you do is get hammered all day everyday. The catch is, you wake up every morning tired, and with the worst (non puking) hangover you have ever had. And this being Hell, there is no headache reliever, Gatorade, or greasy food to get you back on track. Just more booze. That's what makes this room great. It's the place to be after around 4pm everyday. Mornings suck, but a three Bloody Mary's with a Jameson back should get you right back where you need to be.

Good plan? See everyone there.

Some other thoughts:

Facts about the nfl lockout for the casual nfl fan:

Over 90% of nfl players will end up getting stabbed during the lockout, typically in a domestic disturbance/strip club/ you said this nail salon was our little secret what is tmz doing outside skirmish.

You will see Peyton Manning and Drew Brees at Walgreens around the country bringing their commercial pitches to you in person, usually by hiding things in your cart or basket in hopes that you purchase them.

Now is the best time to expect seeing a local NFL star at your nearby cash title loan, because hey, a fully loaded Range Rover isn't going to feed an entourage.

My favorite conversation stopper lately is saying, "I don't want to get political with you." This really offers a segue away from anything, especially since politics are typically not being discussed. But hey, don't like the way the "where should we grab lunch" conversation is going? Treat the person you are talking to like they are Pat Buchanan talking about actual aliens being more allowed in this country then an 8th generation Mexican child. Say it like you are offended, then you pick the lunch spot.

A missive to the pedestrians of busy city sidewalks

2011-03-24T08:11:00.001-07:00

Dearest foot travelers of the world, and busy city sidewalks in particular,

First of all, may I laud your decision to get around on foot. Way to put into good use that dinky pedometer you got from Mc Donald's. Your 2011 health goals should be narrowly accomplished around 2015. I do realize that your foot traffic is actually about more than that, it's the easiest way to get around, and public transportation systems have yet to find a way for you to latch your car on the front of their buses and trains, instead merely your bikes.

However, I must find you at fault for a number of egregious errors in the way that you walk about, so carelessly and without thought of those around you. Many of you are now thinking, "Oh wait, I hope this is not something mean about me!" Well, it probably is. Others are thinking, "I learned how to walk when I was (fill in age...2 to 15), this cannot have to do with me." Well, it probably does.

Walking on a sidewalk full of people is much like driving on a busy street. You must be aware of those around you and follow general rules:

1. Walk on the correct side of the sidewalk. This isn't goddamn Europe, stay to the right.
2. Do not cut people off.
3. Do not suddenly stop, invariably to take a picture of something, scratch your butt, or send a text message.

Easy enough right? But no, too complex it seems since I find people cutting me off, stopping, or coming at me head on even as I hug the far right side of the sidewalk.

To people who walk the wrong way on the sidewalk: I will knock you over. I have been playing this game of chicken for years. Go ahead walk determinedly directly at me, I will not stray from my course. You will. And then you will feel stupid. Or better yet, bump into my shoulder. That'll teach me.

To people who cut other pedestrians off: Listen, if you know you have to turn left, and you are driving, do you make your way to the far right turn lane? Then veer across all traffic? Unless your name is Sarah Plovanich, this is not the maneuver you try. You get in the left turn lane and go from there. Same thing goes on foot. If you have to enter your building on the left ten yards after crossing the street, do not cross the street standing to the far right of the group of people crossing en masse. Unless you are Barry Sanders. Then weave your way through. You are awesome.

Barry Sanders, who can do whatever he wants walking around.

To people who stop suddenly: This is a fine move if you are walking down some shaded boulevard, collecting your thoughts and admiring architecture. It does not fly when you are in a pack of 30 people walking the same direction. Furthermore, I am not Barry Sanders, much more Jerome Bettis. Stop within a foot in front of me, chances are I will knock your shit over, as I lack the spin moves and jukes necessary to avoid you. Then, don't have the gall to shoot ME a dirty look. You stopped. My crime was merely walking behind you. Which, last I checked, was not a crime.

Jerome Bettis, more my agility level

A couple other groups who I would like to bring into play:
1. People with umbrellas
2. People swinging their arms/bags

People with umbrellas, this might be a personal thing between people of a taller height like myself and you, but please be more courteous nonetheless. When the person of the average height is walking around with an umbrella, guess where the ends of the umbrella generally end up? Somewhere around the level of my eyes and face. Therefore I have almost considered calling in "fearful" to work on rainy days. Because I view an umbrella not as protection from rain, but rather as a dangerous device that will one day cause me great ocular damage. Seriously. Maybe I need some safety goggles.

And last, but certainly not least, people who swing either one or both of their arms so widely out from their body they create a road block so that I am unable to pass them. These people always walk slowly, and their arms always swing at a level that would surely strike my crotch if I were to get too close. Also, stop swinging around your bags.

Get the message pedestrians of the world?
1. I will knock you over.
2. I WANT to knock you over.
3. Don't poke out my eyes or hit my junk.

Cordially,
Timothy C. Radway

The Miseducation of Jonah Hill

2011-02-10T08:49:00.000-08:00

The subject line of today's musings should be a Top 40 Album, with Jonah Hill remaking a bunch of Lauryn Hill songs. If William Hung could sell an album, then Jonah Hill could sell 12 albums. His album could go double aluminum, or triple wood as some in the biz call it.

The real reason I needed to speak out today was not to promote this album, but rather to speak on an important subject, and especially important given the fact that it is February 10th: Halloween.

I am not sure how this happens every year, especially given its consistent date, but Halloween always sneaks up on me. And as such, the week before Halloween you always find me in just about the same place; no concrete plans, awful costume ideas which develop one after the other, and the awful fear that Sam Adams Oktoberfest will once again be gone, as hearty and malted as when it showed up conspicuously early in mid August. My plan choices usually consist of some melange of parties at friends of friends, trick or treating in the projects, me putting on a "costume" (which is usually some pants I have not worn in a long time and a silly hat) and staring down a bottle of whiskey, or watching reruns of Step by Step on ABC Family. The costumes are even worse; they are either so elaborate that even the most skilled Hollywood costume designer would have a tough time making them on such short notice (ideas like..."Oh, I will just dress as an Orc from Lord of the Rings," or "I will just whip together a Spongebob Squarepants costume ((which would end up with me looking something more like an IRS auditor))".

This week before Halloween is in direct comparison to the week following Halloween each year. November 3 or thereabouts, I know exactly what my costume will be for the next year (always something extremely witty, brilli ant, well designed, and easy to put together) and as far as venue goes, i always have exact plans for the next year at that point (although as goes for any holiday, should hugh hefner invite me to the mansion, i will be there. Especially for one of his legendary arbor day parties ((brought to you by arbor mist: arbor mist the number one wine for people confused as to what wine is or what it should taste like))

So, how will i avoid this next year you may ask? There are only a couple sure fire solutions: buy a shit ton of masks, or just get it over with and buy a unitard and tell people every year I am some different WWF (I refuse to say WWE, since when it was awesome, it was still the WWF) wrestler. This will cover costumes for years to come. I will wear these masks with the tuxedo that I own. Then I'll be classy spiderman, classy king kong, classy nixon, classy Andre the Giant, classy Ravishing Rick Rude, classy Doink, etc (and wrestling nerds, I don't give a shit that these people did not wear unitards....if you really think I would pay for an airbrushed pair of Spandex pants with my face on it, well, you might be correct, but regardless, the unitard has to have some use). Once these ideas were exhausted, I would be like 57 years old, and so busy flying around with my jetpack that I have little time to think about Halloween or anything but my successful futuristic career designing...ummm....something futuristic sounding, like koopelbangs.

As far as venue, i should simply begin holding a giant Halloween party every year....complete with a giant bowl of punch, a creepy noises soundtrack i will pick up at target, a bowl of eyeballs i tell people are peeled grapes, some cow brain i tell people is cow brain, and some convicts dressed as such. All of these will make my party extremely authentic, frightening, and fun. Especially the convict part, especially when we play a game of "my knives are missing from the kitchen and old Howard over there was in the tank for stabbing people and has an odd look in his eye"

I am happy to have helped everyone solve Halloween. Start thinking about it today, February the 10th, and I guarantee some success for October 31 this year. And by success I mean not watching Step by Step for your Halloween excitement this year.

Lauding One of the AFI Top 100's Most Influential Films

2010-12-21T13:46:00.000-08:00

Upon first glance at the American Film Institute's Top 100 Films, several jump out at you for the noteworthy way they changed the landscape of film. Like Citizen Kane, which is about some goddamn sled or something. Or King Kong, which demonstrated crappy graphics and an unrealistic premise of a goddamn giant primate of some sort making it to New York and having a thing for blondes.

But one of the films which I feel needs to be more recognized- both for the way it defined a generation and changed cultural opinions and the general milieu of the world around it- is none other than 1995's Operation Dumbo Drop.

Ray Liotta and Danny's Glover's courageous portrayals of two lifelong military men enlisted with moving a dastardly elephant (socialism) somewhere or something has changed the life path of all those who have come across the film. Without recognition from the Screen Actor's Guild or Academy Awards, the film has still managed to snare the headlines both for political activism and daring glances into Vietnam War era military furtiveness.

Barack Obama is one man whose entire political career was shaped by the movie. "Moving an elephant or whatever it is the elephant symbolized was on the level of inspiration of Rocky or E.T. Yet these movies are constantly referred to as true bastions of neo-politicalism. I would have to say in 1995 when I saw O D D, as we followers call it, I realized that two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I would have to move an 'elephant' right down through the middle of the woods. Political satire has never been more brilliant, or moving."

This writer's personal opinion is that one "dropping a dumbo" on someone, and the multicultural references of having one caucasian and one African-American lead cannot be understated. The Kim Jong-Il's, Fidel Castro's and Stephen Harper's of the world could well stand to be taught the lesson in the film. That or have a dumbo dropped all upside their heads.

Embrace my weaknesses (pansies)

2010-11-30T18:36:00.000-08:00

In one of my favorite 50 cent songs (I never really understood his name. Salmon P. Chase Bill would have been a much better name, and a way higher monetary value., I mean come on half dollar...$10,000 bill is ballin out of control), the chorus is, "if i cant do it, it cant be done." I however, am not such a braggy type (ok yes I am, that's why it's one of my favorite 50 songs. It's like he's talking to me directly, or rather sharing some sort of beautiful dialogue). 50 has obviously never been in a job interview where they ask him about his weaknesses. The thing about weaknesses is they must be embraced. I'd rather do stuff I have mad skillz at doing better than everyone else then to do shit at which I suck and be mocked accordingly. Therefore, here are my personal go to weaknesses at job interviews:

Building things - the last furniture I built was an Ikea dresser. I ended the process wondering why they had provided several extra wood piece and some extra screws. Needless to say, this dresser has not stood the test of time too well. Or even stood at all too well at any point in time.

Eating eggplant - Shit's gross man. I can't even fake it being edible even with being a 27 year old grown ass man.

Fitting into small quarters- I used to be able to fit into some cabinets in the house where my Mom grew up. I tried this a couple years ago and could barely fit my upper half in. Now mind you when I say "used to be able to" I was maybe 3 at a time, and have grown at least a foot and ten pounds since then. At least I have avoided the curse of my Father who hits his head on shit all the time.

Wearing short pants without being made fun of- I have to wear a 36 inseam, which means special ordering pants. Guess who is not patient enough for this sometimes and buys normal pants that are too short? Me. Luckily I am surrounded by the kindest friends who will mock me at will for wearing pants that are even a smidgen short.

Keeping clean shaven

Being on time (put this one in the middle so they are still stuck on your more intriguing flaws)

Battle rapping (i go to the f word early and often) Whenever 8 Mile came out we used to get drunk and try battle rapping. Unfortunately a line consisting of purely f bomb's does not merely rhyme with a line that follows consisting purely of f bomb's- it's identical. I retired from battle rapping soon after)

Throwing away socks once one has a hole in it

Fantasy baseball

Not trying hard enough to join the US Curling Team- As I watched the winter olympics this past year and watched the U.S. Suck at Curling, I thought how awesome I would be at it. Then some young dude shows up and they start talking about how he is the bad boy of curling. That dude looks like a total nerd next to what I would bring- hot ladies and a flask where I get drunk at every match (contest? competition? game? round?) and yell at the crowd. Boom. But it's a weakness of mine since I don't try too hard to join it.

These are my weaknesses. Feel free to use them as you wish at your next job interview.

$ Texas

2010-11-29T13:07:00.000-08:00

I just wagered the state of Texas.

I think people should put more of a gift of a magi spin on stolen goods. Or go the polar opposite and act like liam neeson in taken no matter how minute the iterm.

A few months ago, a most egregious act occurred at my apartment unit, one entirely shocking given the fact that the last remaining Cabrini Green tower looms in the distance. Or wait, no, it was not shocking in the least, but it still happened.

My girlfriend had her bike stolen off of our balcony.

This, my reader (note the singular...I am trying to make you feel unique, even though you are about as ubiquitous as a Starbucks to me. Trust me, I write this to make myself giggle, not you), is no small feat, given the fact that our balcony bottom ledge is probably ten feet off the ground. So for one to pull themself up, and toss down a bike without getting caught is semi awesome. (Also semi frightening when I think about these bike thieves sitting around my home, eating my peanut butter) I assume it might have been a team of acrobats.

Regardless I have decided something. There in the future should only be two ways to handle such a crime, neither of which involves contacting the authorities.

1. If an item, no matter what the value, has been stolen from you, put a Gift of the Magi spin on it. For those not familiar with the tale, go look up the Wikipedia entry. I am not your English teacher, and whomever they were obviously did a shit job teaching you.

Now that you have looked it up, you understand what I am talking about. If you still have not looked it up, it is probably because you don't know how to read, and have merely printed out this blog entry and are using it like a word search (which, I must admit would be a fun illiteracy related activity. No word can be wrong, because you don't know any).

Anyways, if an item has been stolen from you, just pretend someone did it to get someone else some sentimentally awesome ass gift, not merely to peddle your bike around and sell drugs.

Option 2 is to react like Liam Neeson in the film "Taken". Like this guy on the following link:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/07/26/the-funniest-notes-left-f_n_659338.html#s118930

So, two options. Like them and use them. Or else I'm going to start stealing your shit.

Observations from the world....and man law

2010-08-20T07:18:00.000-07:00

First things first, a few observations from the world around me. Tru TV, which is evidently a channel, has a new show (maybe it's new, maybe it's in its 12th season, maybe they bought the rights to it from Fox?? I don't know) about the dramatic events at a pawn shop. The name of this show? Hardcore Pawn. What immediately came to mind is that any true Bostonian is going to somehow get screwed over should they happen to love this show, particularly if they are asked how they feel about their favorite TV show in a job interview or other socially awkward situation. Because you know what it would sound like they were saying..."I LOVE HARDCOH PORN" And they might also love that. I do not know these things.

Second things, well, second. As is wont for things that go second, to be second. The other day I was reading over the shoulder of a man on the train. The title of the chapter of whatever shit book he was reading was "What is your biggest fear? Speaking, rejection, or failure?" How about something legit, buddy. Like goddamn poisonous snakes. Or sharks off seal island in South Africa. Flesh eating bacteria. The list goes on and on. That is why people need to not be worried about crap like public speaking. No one cares what you are saying. Just don't be a person from Boston talking about how much you love the show Hardcore Pawn. Or pee yourself.

Finally I have long been wishing to express rules of man law because I feel it is of such great importance to our society, the world, and our future. So, the first rule of man law presented to the world:

Those tiny backpacks that have merely strings that go over your shoulder, and you have to hold on, which additionally look as if they could hold only your favorite bracelets ARE NOT FOR MEN. These are for 7 year old girls. Some men have countered with, "They are perfect for carrying shoes." NO. A normal backpack can do that too. Or carry them in your hand, like a real man. Goddamnit, this makes me so irate. So please, mock any man you see wearing these, both those you know, and strangers on the street. A nice cackle and saying something like "What's the matter, no backpacks for men? Had to borrow your 7 year old sisters backpack?" Then these could be eradicated once and for all, because I think even 7 year old girls have moved on from these sissy bags.

Part 1 in a 10 Part Series- The Best Actors Ever

2010-08-01T18:16:00.000-07:00

First and foremost, it is Aug 1st, so Happy Shark Week...in the words of the ever poetic Tracy Jordan, "Live every week like it's shark week." A truer statement has never been spoken. I have, however, thought truer statements. I just don't want to upstage this comment.

Now to get down to business, discussing the Top 10 Actors of all time.

#10 Michael Oliver

At this point many of you are thinking, "Michael Oliver? Who the fuck is that? How can the #10 actor of all time be someone whose name I do not even know?"

You probably know him better by his birth name...Michael Oliverius. Still not ringing a bell, morons? Here's a photo:

This thespian who is known namely for his brilliant portrayal of "Junior" in 2 Problem Child movies (the series also spawned a third, made for TV movie which Oliver did not appear in for fear of diluting the character. And I just made that up) is without a doubt one of the Top 10 Actors of our time. Do they traditionally make a series of 3 films without a successful star at the helm for at least the first two? I'll give you some examples, with the actor's all time rating in parentheses:

Indiana Jones series featuring Harrison Ford (329)
The Matrix Series starring Keanu Reeves (12...sorry Keanu, not quite top 10 material)
The Land Before Time series starring Littlefoot (22)

Need any more proof? I thought not.

Oliver, classically trained in method acting as well as with Strasberg's techniques, owned the screen even when appearing along slightly more notorious actors like John Ritter (34), Michael Richards (19) and Jack Warden (456). Marlon Brando oftentimes would speak of Oliver's performances wistfully before he died, lamenting, "I wished I could have had half his (Oliver's) presence on the screen." Second truest statement ever spoken.

Oliver, like many others who know when to get out while at the top of their game, only appeared in a couple bit roles after the Problem Child films, and I for one think this would have to be due to the fact that playing these roles with such passion and vigor would be just too draining to continue at such a level. However, I could be writing this post about Top 5 all time Actor Michael Oliver had we at the very least gotten to see him reprise his role in Problem Child 3.

Confidence Stench

2010-07-21T15:01:00.000-07:00

Confidence has a smell, and no, it’s not an actual aroma as this is not some body wash for men advertisement, but rather it has a certain palpability to it that lingers on people.

I personally have a confidence stench.

I make phenomenal, glaring eye contact when the situation calls for it.

I enter rooms with a half smile half smirk like I know something everyone else doesn’t.

Is this true? Maybe, maybe not but if you say anything with enough conviction and confidence it sounds true. And say it often enough and you will believe it too. Hell, I have told enough stories filled with partial truths and entertaining self aggrandizing fibs that my friends can retell them the same way. You know why? My confidence stench.

The way I look at achieving things and getting different things is different from one of those lame-o visualization exercises where you see yourself achieving “FILL IN PARTICULAR GOAL”. It’s more of, “There are billions of people in the world. Vast percentages are inept morons. I am not an inept moron, ergo; I can do what I want.”

If I want to randomly pack up my car and move directly across the country to a city I have never even visited, where I don’t know hardly anyone, have no job lined up, and no place to live, I will do it. And I will do it knowing that I will get an awesome job, get a place to live, and make as many friends as I want. Confidence stench.

And I know that if I were to move back to Chicago and try and make a career switch, even it was in some stupid industry like car rental, that I would be the youngest manager in the downtown market within ten months. Confidence stench.

Were I to randomly wake up one day, and decide in the midst of a job recession that I wanted to quit my job, with nothing on the horizon and bills to pay, that I would have no problem finding a new job where I got paid more and worked less. Confidence stench.

When meeting people, interviewing for jobs, or bartering at your favorite flea market, it is of the utmost importance, you have to let your stench be made present. Without it, that’s the sort of shit that gets people mugged and attacked by Rottweiler’s and paying exorbitant prices for a second hand wooden tennis racket.

130% of job interviews are decided on three factors, and I know this because I have hired now 8 people in my brief professional tenure:

1) A firm enough handshake by a person making direct eye contact with sound posture.

2) A person who is ready and willing to talk about the subject about which they have the best knowledge and confidence, themselves.

3) A person who projects the attitude, “You’d be fucked up in the mind to not pick me.”

I have always gone forth from any interview, personal interaction, or flea market purchase thinking about what a great impression/second hand wooden tennis racket purchase I have made. And whatever decision others make, I find it to be like the opposite of the classic breakup mantra, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Instead it’s a whole lot of, “It’s not me, it’s you, you fucking idiots. But oh well, it’s not on me. I’m gonna be alright, it’s you I’m worried about, what with your awful decision making skills and ugly sweaters.” There are times, albeit rare, when you must defer to others and mask your stench. I have not discovered such a situation, but I am sure they exist.

The confidence stench is unique to the individual. Everyone has a particular way of showing how they are the best. The key thing is you are always prepared for everyone else to smell your stench and recognize it.

"Leprosy, Flesh Eating Bacteria, Hot Dog Fingers, Government Created Killer Nano Robot Infection"

2010-07-07T19:08:00.000-07:00

As the summer season rolls continues, we have, much to the delight of literally three to fifteen million people, carnival season, festival season and all the lovely picnics you could imagine in local neighborhoods and at local churches.

And this brings me to discuss one of the true treasures we have in the US and A- the carnival worker. Oh you know who they are. You love them. Maybe some of you have been drunk and literally loved them (although on my jack and coke scale you would be past death level to have to do something this extreme. Like a 18. 18 Jack and cokes might make this excusable. On second thought, no. If you have ever hooked up with a carnie, you are doing wrong with your life). And you know who these people are. Carnies are easily known as carnies based on their general carnieness. They have a cigarette in their mouth or on the ready in their hands at all time, they stare listlessly off into the distance constantly which is also their style when operating that rickety old scary ride (about which your Dad always says, "Must be totally safe. Do you really think they would let all these kids on it if it weren't safe?" Yes Dad, I do think they might not be safe. These machines weren;t built by NASA employees in their down time) or taking your money so you can play their rigged carnival game. , they have some sort of tattoo related to America a la the bald eagle drinking whiskey with guns it its talons. These people are America.

Yet one thing that I have always been perplexed about is just how one ends up becoming one of these carnival workers. It's almost like the old joke about naming your kid Jeeves so he would become a goddamn butler, which is basically like telling your child you hate them (Ace, Buck, Icarus...those names equal pure love). Carnies might start off from the same path, receiving names like Riaan, Fred, Arrork, Botswana, Namibia, Rwanda (alright so I just started naming African countries. It was easier that way for all of us. Trust me.) But somehow I don't get the feeling that the path to carniedom follows this route:

1)Normal middle class upbringing, complete with high school, college, and taking MBA classes at night.
2) Become a carnie.

That would be fucking ridiculous.

I have a feeling like it's more like this

1) Found in a dumpster by nuns during infancy
2) Given an odd name since nuns, realistically have little or no contact with the actual world, nor do they know they are making you destined to become a carny.
3) Get your first tattoo at three. Also develop a lifelong dependance on oxycontin, whiskey, cigarettes and strippers, but slightly later, like at 10, on a field trip to a meat packing plant where you seperated from the group and went to a strip club.
4) Burn the orphanage down.
5) Work for a carnival. Your skillset is perfect and boy did you ever trick the manager of the carnival to agree to pay you in all the corndogs you could eat. That fuckin moron.

I mean, think about it, there are a number of blue collar jobs which can still place people in a whole different strata than the carnival worker. But at the same time, is the carnival worker not as beautiful and majestic as a soaring bald eagle in terms of its representation of America?

Carnies with good social skills get promoted to being a roadie.

DJ PAUL BUNYAN! EXCLUSIVE FLAPJACK REMIX!

2010-06-28T17:39:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well...what do we have here? It's been a while. But several things have happened. First and foremost, fuck you. Secondly, I have one question: How dare you? Thirdly, I am now, as the french say, un pamplemousse extraordinaire, or for the non educated, a professional writer. Fitty cents a word. That shit adds up in a hurry, but alas, they do not allow cursing in that writing venue. Nor entertainment. Also, all my ethnic slurs were edited out of the last piece I wrote. Even so, it stings to sit here and do this writing for basically free (I could cash in those $3.42 in google ad marketing I have gathered up over the years, but as Sylvester Stallone says, "UGIUBSI SIUBS") with only my mind to offer feedback.

So, before I get into the meat of this, I have some rules:

1. If you read this, give a comment.
2. In the aforementioned comment, defend which is better, the ninja, or the ninja assassin.
3. Send me a self addressed, stamped envelope with $7 in it. No Ponzi scheme or anything, I would just like to see how much cash I can accumulate.
4. Offer your counterarguments or explanations to the things I have said. Your counterarguments, sadly, will be wrong.
5. I will be writing at minimum on this forum, weekly, unless I join a gladiator troupe and am mauled by lions. If nothing from me, assume the mauling occurred.

Thank you for observing these rules, and Happy Reverse Ramadan- where you eat all day while the sun is up (sponsored by Old Country Buffet).

First, a part of a conversation that was heard Easter weekend by myself and my sisters, as completed by me (the first two lines are the truthy ones)

Guy1: So he calls 911...
Guy 2: The guy who shot him???
Guy 1: Fuck you.
Guy 2: Let's wrassle.

It really is amazing some of the things that you can hear people saying just standing somewhere, or riding on public transportation, or dressed as a character from your favorite anime game. People either legitimately think that others cannot hear them, or really have some of the most outlandish stories and choose to tell them within earshot of others.

When driving home to Louisville recently, I heard a radio station near Indianapolis implore me to stay tuned for the DJ PAUL BUNYAN M-M-M-M-MEGA MIX. I don't really understand why the announcer for DJ PAUL BUNYAN had such a horrible stutter trying to get out the word mega, or why the radio station insists on letting the man with the stutter announce their world famous DJ's with their wacky literary names. But what I r-r-r-r-r-really don't understand is the DJ name chosen by this man. Paul goddamn Bunyan? Now I know DJ names or the choice of career as a DJ is in and of itself an odd career path, but choosing Paul Bunyan as your DJ name would have to be rather circuitous. DJ's are known for yelling things out during their mixes, I know this from totally on the up and up downloading rap songs in college, where inevitably you would have to put up with a DJ yelling things throughout the song simply because you legally procured the song and paid all appropriate licensing rights. These DJ's would yell things like, "EXCLUSIVE!" "NEW SHIT!" "HEAVY HITTER" "THIS IS FOR MY STREET SWEEPERS" (who has their own street sweepers?) "FELL OFF" All of these, I am quite sure are rap terms I probably do not understand, nor should I, nor do I want to. Unfortunately, I was no longer in the area by the time I could have potentially h-h-h-h-heard DJ Paul Bunyan's awesome spinning, but I can only imagine the things this man would have loved to yell "SHOUT OUT TO BABE THE BLUE OX", "AXES", "FLAP JACK HOCKEY RINK REMIX", "FLANNEL THIS BITCH". I would only think that if the man moved on to DJ in a larger city like Chicago, he would change his name to a more familiar literary character like DJ AMELIA BEDILIA and her exclusive WACKY REMIXES.

And finally a commentary on society. Today as I took my normal train ride home from work, I arrived at my destination. Soon after I would see one of the most puzzling things I have ever seen: The narrow one person wide escalator next to the spacious staircase was not working. Yet, it was loaded with people. PEOPLE OF THE WORLD, WHEN AN ESCALATOR IS BROKEN, IT IS A FLIGHT OF STAIRS. Morons. I personally opted for the staircase. And gave the finger to all the idiots on the escalator. Also, I am afraid of escalators, so I have that going for me.

So party people, click on the ads surrounding this blog, preferably a few million times, follow my rules, and I will see you next week. I promise or something. Also, if anyone wants to be my agent and find me a patron who will pay me for my humorous writing, I will give you a generous 15% cut. I'm serious about that. Sell my words. I can always come up with more. Really, I can make up words with the best of them. I think I have nearly matched Shakespeare thus far.

Okay just so I understand it, in your wildest fantasy, you are in hell co running a bed and breakfast with the devil?

2010-01-19T19:22:00.000-08:00

So, ABC, want to let me in on this trick you have tried to play on me? It's a trick in multi parts, so let me break it down.

1) Air a funny comedy show for years called Scrubs. Star a young actor in it named Zach Braff. His inner dialogue really makes the show go round.
2) In 2010, still air a show called Scrubs. however remove Zach Braff (I am not sure if he was just not in this episode, or not on the show completely). Either way, it sucked. I felt like a confused baby, fed solids for the first time. This was the equivalent of not getting mashed carrots or rutabaga or whatever fucked up shit people feed babies. (seriously, to borrow from the idea of Chris Rock, it's not like babies said they couldn't taste, they said they didn't have teeth. and the poor beings actually can't say anything.)
3) I therefore assume Zach Braff is dead, since what else is he supposed to do with his life? It led to this google search and subsequent results:
4) He evidently had some suicide rumors, which he denied on his facebook page, by saying, "Hi. I'm very much alive. Total internet rumor. Amazing how fast one douche can spread a lie. Be careful out there on the internets friends. Please spread the word... Video of me holding todays paper to follow... Love, zb."
5) Zach braff is a huge puppy. Go back to being on Scrubs, moron. Or else, what is your career arc? Scrubs then Scrubs, then a movie where you wore a garbage bag, then some more Scrubs, then denying suicide rumors. Nice. Puppy.
6) Since that is boring, here are the results I got by google image searching "wombats getting busy"
6) Unfortunately there was one picture brought up by this search of Stalin and Lenin playing guitars. Ahhhh...the beauty of the internet.
7) The internet also provided me with this fun this week. Hotmail, with whom I have had an email address since 1998, just prompted me to change my password for the first time ever. In terms of ridiculousness, this is up there with an old person being told they have to wear an adult diaper for the first time. I did not feel as though my account was in danger previously, but thankfully they told me it was. Someone might break into my email and read all the top secret things I have. Like emailing people ot inform them I am going to google wombats getting busy. That's national security right there. Thanks, Hotmail, which when I tell people they are my email provider I might as well tell them that my dial up connects within five minutes, it's that hip.
8)Enough Metamucil as well as candy bar ads. Give up. Eliminate your marketing budget and watch your bottom line soar. I have never purchased Metamucil nor have I been swayed by an ad for a candy bar, but I have this theory that ads are pretty expensive.

BYAH. Suck it.

The face of a child can say so much...especially the mouth part of the face

2010-01-04T18:29:00.000-08:00

And assuming that the mouth of the child was as wise as me, it could tell you of my 2010 resolutions. Now of course I have my own resolutions, but those really only profit me, so rather I am choosing to share my resolutions for the rest of the world and the things it needs to change in 2010.

1 Hollywood, world of sports, others of the world, stop using retreads.

Hollywood- As I have a choice between watching Boise State and TCU play in some meaningless bowl game this evening (I mean seriously, how will we know if either of these teams is any good? Could they not play actual teams from major conferences? And why does one team have bright purple pants and call themselves the Horned Frogs? Surely an homage to TCU great Kurt Thomas who looked sort of like a horned frog) or mindless drivel on in the background, I went with CBS "comedy" night for some mindless drivel. Last I checked, CBS, comedy night meant shows should make me laugh at least a 30% to the canned laughter. They are hitting on 2%. A commercial with Taye Diggs and Miss Piggy was just funnier. But I digress. There have to be tons of actors out there. Talented actors. Then why is Charlie Sheen on TV? And then on this dork show the one guy from Roseanne is on it, as well as the girl from the show John Ritter was on when he died....she gets a pass, because....duh. Then CBS has also aired a commercial for a show with Julianna Marguiles of ER fame....movie career didn't work out so well? Just give up. Go get a real job. I want you to make me a $5 footlong next time I go to Subway. You probably have some money so it can be your own proud Subway franchise. I do opt for jalepenos on most sandwiches. (And Charlie Sheen, I understand you need as much money as you can to cover legal expenses. Someday I will be able to hire you to try and catch cheetos in your mouth....someday)

World of Sports- There are 30 NBA teams, 30 MLB teams, and 32 NFL teams. Yet it seems to me there is a pool of 100 possible coaches/managers for these teams. Give me a try, one of you sports. Probably not the NFL since I would bring the "Madden" coordinators into effect ( just have people playing Madden on the sidelines and putting the best plays into the game...it's too easy) and win too many Super Bowls. All I know is this, I watch many more baseball games than most managers, and NBA players just have to have their egos taken care of. I would let them play me 1 on 1 everyday. It would also provide laughter for everyone and I would be nothing short of a media darling.

Rest of the world- Fortune 500 companies, stop hiring CEO's who failed as CEO's somewhere else. Men and women who have on again off again relationships where your friends don't know when they can insult your significant other, knock it off. The insults have to come free and easy. City of Chicago, stop putting a bag of gravel in potholes that can swallow entire vehicles. ESPN let up on the Sportscenters every once in a while. S&P 500, stop acting like you are really that important. Judd Apatow....you are excused, please continue making the same film over and over.

That is my main resolution for 2010 to the world. Because whenever someone said "There is nothing new under the sun," I don't think it was any sort of requirement. More rock, less talk 2010. Especially since we don't even have flying suits yet.

Drop the fiddle faddle, you scum

2009-12-18T22:07:00.000-08:00

Why is Crunch and Munch sometimes call fiddle faddle? Secondly, a product whose sole niche is grandmothers...how does it continue to exist? Who is buying the cookies that are by the cash register at Walgreens? Same niche. Who is buying the premade deli sandwiches at...well, pretty much anywhere? Alright different niche. Truckers. If only I had Venn diagram technology, I could whip some of those up right now. But realistically I will use words. I think I might need to make a foray into the shitty overloaded with preservative desert food market. For the following reasons:

1. All women greater than 70 love me, except for my own grandmother, who thinks I am an awful human. They find me charming and handsome. I probably look like a move star from the first "talkies" (non silent films) or some nonsense like that. But I don't talk like a Cary Grant fruit cake. Plaster my photo on the packaging, and I do a few meet and greets at nursing homes and other places with old people like antique stores or where the old Woolworths used to be (you know, since they get confused and want to go to a drug store chain that has been out of business for 15 years)
2. My product will be a better use for discretionary and non discretionary income than any other product existing. Ever. It will be a mix of everything that old people love and young people hate to have to eat. I'm thinking some sort of trail mix with off brand cheetos, bits of vintage aged fruit cake (which I will call Cary Grant) and those weird yellow raisins that are never sold alone.
3. Location location packaging. Got ya! You thought I was going to say location a third time. But realistically, what the fuck would location have to do with what I am talking about? No packaging for the oldies...not too many bright colors, my photo (looking all dapper, in black and white) and something about Olde Tyme. And classic. And maybe something about just like when you were a little girl and FDR was president? Yes. Perfect.

And now for my foray into the sandwiches for truckers:
1) I am good at making sandwiches. All I have to do is find someone who is good at saran wrap. I hate saran wrap. It's fuckin dumb as shit. Maybe my sandwiches can be wrapped in foil. Last I checked, truckers aren't too into aesthetics. What with their mullets and ugly wives.

Facebook people. Stop doing status updates that are STATUS updates. I don't need to know you bought something new and expensive. I don't give a shit. That'd be like me scanning my bank statement and highlighting all the baller ass purchases I made that past month. Oh, boom $86 worth of groceries. BALLER. Subway $12.39. Looks like someone got 2 $5 footlongs. BALLER.

And yes, I've been drinking. But you can bet I'll drink more. And write more. BALLER>

I will be writing the best television program ever. Every year. For the rest of forever.

2009-11-08T13:50:00.001-08:00

I am beginning to notice something. Trends. Also, that I love having a beard. It totally takes care of my hatred for shaving.

Anyways, back to these trends. Has anyone else noticed TV shows this year can be split into about six categories? Reality, Vampire, Hospital/Doctor, Overeating, Tyler Perry Presents, Shows with Women wearing revealing clothing.

So, I am pretty sure I could walk into a networks boardroom, and after being charming for about 45 seconds, I could present a show each and every year that they would green light and would achieve, for whatever reason, huge popularity. Also, they would give me a large briefcase of money. Then we would share a laugh and a cigar, and I would be on my merry way, back to growing a beard and trend watching so that I could come up with their big hit for next year.

So according to those six categories here's my show to pitch for this year: Tyler Perry presents (what? there can't be more than one Tyler Perry. It's a pretty vanilla name. It's not like that Jerry Bruckheimer character or anything) a show about a staff of sexy young vampires in a hospital which specializes in the treatment of people who have overeaten on reality shows. Bam. Who would not watch that? And the best thing about it? The staff would watch clips of the show (which would be a real show people could be on ((show within a show. how goddamned brilliant)) while they were having various romantic liasons and sucking blood, etc.

Proof this could possibly happen: Space Chimps, that movie with Queen Latifah and Jimmy Fallon, Blue's Clues, Early Edition (a cat who delivered a newspaper from the future, for those who do not recall), etc. Duh.

When I am in the midst of beard growth, the typical reaction is something like, "Tim, you look so sophiscticated. You grow a beard really quickly. Are you going to shave soon." I then say, "I hate shaving. And I don't mind the way a beard looks on my face." People then generally agree that they also detest shaving. Then grow a beard you man candyasses. And if your boss at work says anything about it, point out the number of US Presidents that had a beard (at least three that I can think of) as well as WWF superstars and other awesome people. Just try and avoid mention of the unibomber or any other known terrorists. It also helps to point out that Carson Daly could probably not grow one. And if I have learned anything, people hate that dude. He's very polarizing and if you can get people to realize that you too are against him, then whatever action you are taking makes sense.

Is it wrong that in my fantasy football league I have tried to turn everyone against Seattle RB Julius Jones because he is a pack a day smoker? Football players, unless they are the kicker, punter, or long snapper, should not smoke that much. I only want pack a day smokers on my fantasy baseball team. So there you go Julius Jones, even though you are not a very good option, you are less of an option because of your habit.

I wish the commercials with the talking baby for etrade were for a cooler product that I could go buy a bunch of. Like Combos or Twizzlers. Then I might buy more of those products.

Some things I learned today

2009-08-20T15:11:00.000-07:00

All of the following are bad ideas:

-Carrying a gun in your sweat pants.
-Carrying a gun in a state where it is illegal to carry a gun
- AGAIN, CARRYING A GODDAMN GUN IN YOUR SWEATPANTS. SERIOUSLY.
- Being an NFL player doing anything more than working out and watching game film. If you want to let loose, have some beers at your mansion, with your entourage. But do that rarely. You think Wes Welker is out in Boston a lot with a gun in his sweat pants?
-IF YOU ARE GOING TO CARRY A GUN IN YOUR PANTS, GET SOME PANTS MORE APTLY SUITED FOR GUN TOTING
- If you are a famous NFL player and you have decided to carry a gun in your pants, don't shoot yourself in the leg. Then you will end up going to jail for a couple years, losing millions of dollars, and in the case of Plaxico Burress, getting your scary skeletal frame used in the yard as the bench press bar. Have fun, asshole.

Why is it that when you get an x-ray and they find no break it is deemed negative? Does that not just demonstrate how money hungry the nedical community is? To whom is the x-rya negative to aside from the doctor? I am pretty sure everytime I have had an x-ray and I find I do not have a broken bone I consider this a very positive turn of events.

The drunk driving commercial where the man has a car full of martini and when he is pulled overand rolls down his window for the sure to be arresting officer and olives and martini spill out...that's the only way I ever want a martini. I want to go to a bar and order a martini which fills up all the space in the car. It would be the only way I would ever want this drink. and the only way I would ever want to receive a DUI. and maybe..maybe the only way I ever want to die.

Fuck you, Len Kasper

2009-08-16T16:46:00.001-07:00

All I really wanted to do today was to finish watching the Cubs wrap up their series awesomeness against the Pirates. Weather then interfered, which, I understand to not be Cubs TV play by play man Len Kasper's fault. Although he does look like he might be into wizardry, and therefore some sort of weather changing effects.

Regardless we start to get all the typical rain delay features- an interview with some squirelly man who DID NOT want to be on television, a rebroadcast of the Fergie Jenkins/Greg Maddux and then finally the inevitable neverending broadcasts of the Drew Carey Show and According to Jim, at which times we would then get to hear from time to time Len Kasper chirp in and say something not witty or amusing about the rain continuing to fall along with some crappy reference to a CCR song, since evidently Len and Bob know all about everything musical. Then, all of a sudden the little Cubs Rain Delay logo in the upper right hand corner disappears and I am left watching Drew Carey with no possibility of watching the Cubs. I know, I know, it almost has to be my fault since I was busy getting morally crushed by watching Tiger Woods lose to some guy I have never heard of, but even so I expected Len Kasper to be like that guy who still has to sit around at something for a couple hours and tell you that it has been cancelled. Yes, that is correct WGN, when a game is cancelled in the future I would like one hour of airtime devoted to Len Kasper saying "The game is cancelled. I am sorry. Very very sorry. I am also the wizard at fault for this weather. Again, my apologies."

My general tone might even make it seem as if I dislike Len Kasper. This would not be true. I am a big fan of he and Bob Brenly's straight shooting, Cubs what the fuck did you do that for, broadcast approach. There is only one other thing I am looking for in addition to being better informed of a game cancellation- more commentary on when the cameras show hot ladies. Typically you guys greet this with silence so if I am doing something, I might not even glance up and get to see the pretty lady. This is a travesty. And when you do make commentary, I want innuendo and double entendre. Is that too much to ask? It's totally what I would do. Think of being the anti Joe Buck (who I hate ever since he was horrified at a Randy Moss fake mooning TD celebration dance...yes fake mooning "OH MY GOD, RANDY MOSS HAS FAKE PULLED DOWN HIS PANTS TO FAKE REVEAL HIS BUTT AND FAKE MOON THE CROWD! A TOTALLY OFFENSIVE PANTOMIME! WE SHOULD ALL BE SO OFFENDED BY THIS FAKE ACTION!")

That is all for now. Thank you. Thank you very much.

Giggity

2009-06-27T20:53:00.000-07:00

I just returned from my first viewing of The Hangover, An Occult Film (not many people know that was the actual complete working title). I have some thoughts:

-I hope America is now exposed to the brilliance that is Zach Galifinakis. I just also hope he does not become ubertrendy. I hate when too many people start knowing people that I know, or funny people that I enjoy. Then they act all, "Oh man, I love that guy" and I act all punch them in the face and tell them they are fake posers who just like someone because they have suddenly gained popularity. And then due to the Internet, everyone can see everything the person has ever done and act like they are experts because they twitteroodled a Galfinakis funny as a quote and read a bunch of his other stuff on Wikiquote and his life story on Wikipedia (which, by the way, I implore you to do, because I already added a bunch of fake shit on there. For instance, he did not say "An eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind" but I put it as one of his quotes. And he was not born inside a cantalope, but see what else seems fake on his wikipedia entry....you'll leave there with more questions than answers.)

-I really enjoy the premise of the movie, but generally from what I have heard about rapies (5th grade DARE class) they don't just make you black out, you also pass the fuck out, leaving little time for shenanigans like getting married, stealing tigers from mike tyson, and dragging matrasses to roofs of hotels. Just saying. I'm willing to let this one slide even though they kept harping on the fact that they took rapies over and over again.

-Jeffrey Tambor was underutilized in this movie. And the importance of his sweet Benz to him was suddenly not resolved at the end of the film. No one said a thing at the wedding. And for some reason I don't think the 80 grand worth of bellagio chips would cover the repairs. Or else everyone would just have a car like that. His character in his brief screen time vacillated from cool (It's Vegas, I understand) to weird and anal (Put armorall on the tires once you get to Vegas due to the sand). Rubbish.

-Other than that, solid flick. If I ever start and write more than about seven pages of a film, I will tie up all the loose ends on the eighth page. All in one scene, the way both great movies and games of Clue do it.

One last thing for the film industry, rebels from Chechnya keep being the main villanous characters in many movies. Can we just go more realistic and have villains from the Middle East and Afghanistan more often, or is the Checnyen infuence still that great? Are there just a bunch of evil badasses there? Is it the easiest accent for actors to do? RIDDLE ME THAT.

I might add....

2009-04-27T14:47:00.000-07:00

The phrase, "I might add", I might add, is one of the douchiest phrases I have heard being tossed around recently. Not only is it incredibly douchey and sweeping the talking head world (may I just add I am not entirely ready to drink the kool aid on saying I might add) but it is completely and utterly pointless. Let me explain why.

1. Typically the "I might add" is thrown in at the end of a sentence.
Example: I, a douchebag, have gotten really into drinking white wine like a little girl and it is delicious, I might add.

(Disclaimer: That sentence was not about me)

By putting the phrase such as "I might add"at the end of the sentence, you did not MIGHT add it, you FOR SURE JUST ADDED IT. The words already came out of your mouth. The only thing potentially worse then "I might add" is it's bitch of a cousin "may I add" because again, you already added, don't ask if it's okay now. ask beforehand and you might be suprised I don't want to listen to anything you have to say.

Especially you, rental car customers. When I ask if everything worked out okay with your car, I don't give a shit for what you "might add" about the state of the car or the driving conditions you encountered. I just ask because I am supposed to. Really though do I care if the wiper fluid was low? NO. Your dumbass should have stopped and bought some more rather than trivializing my life by waiting the remaining four days you had the car to complian about it. Oh it was difficult to return the car at the gas level you got it? Well guess what it's difficult to me to envision a world where making sue every car has a full tank you annoying piece of garbage.

During NCAA tournament time, I read an article about Pittsburgh Panther Sam Young which may have accidentally led me to discovering the funniest thing one could ever think about when in the mood for thinking of something f-ing hilarious. Sam Young's brother is evidently one of the top "blind athletes" in the world. In particular, if I recall correctly, he excelled at judo. Since I have been so intrigued about how fucking funny it would be to watch these sporting events, but I have decided they are way funnier if you just imagine them then actually trying to find videos of these blind athletes which I am sure look a lot like normal sporting events. It is more fun to imagine the various things in place during these blind events- seeing eye dogs, atheletes tied together in events like judo so they can actually find one another to kick each other, a bunch of swinging and missing, commentators discussing "smell guards" to block an athletes odor from their opponent....it's just funny. Yes, I am sure I will go to hell. It's gonna be fun though.

I didn't force butter and sugar down his throat for 50 years

2009-02-22T18:13:00.000-08:00

15 MINUTE RUNNING DIARY OF THE ACADEMY AWARDS

8:15pm- Hugh Jackman? What happened to having someone funny host the show? Sure, he is Australian and rugged looking, but what does that do for the laugh factor?

8:16pm- Sarah Jessica Parker! The world's most successful horse- screw you Secretariat! And Daniel Craig- the pansiest James Bond ever! What a presenting duo, I see now why they wanted to keep the presenters secret.

8:18pm- "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" just won the award for Art Direction. Alana quipped, "I didn't think it was that great." I didn't even waste my time seeing it. I prefer this movie in reverse, and starring Robin Williams. It's called Jack. It's way sweet. Bill Cosby is in it too. The guys who won this award suck at speeches. Probably because they have never won anything in their lives.

8:21pm- Wow! The only movie where I would say there technically were costumes won for best costumes...The Duchess. All the other movies it looked to me like people were just wearing normal clothes. I personally do not call it costuming when I get dressed in the morning. It's just getting dressed, you talent mongers.

8:23- Makeup. Another stupid award. I will instead discuss Wrigley the beagle. We bought her some sort of tendon thing today. It's about two feet long and looks like a slim jim gone awry. She has not disturbed us since. Benny Button just won this makeup award. I think they should take it from them and give it to the makeup people for Jack since they pirated the awesomeness of that film. Really.

8:25- Ooooo, people from Twilight, I bet women from 13-53 are swooning now. Vampires do it better in West Virginia (I saw this bumper sticker the other day). (PS, no I didn't) Now a montage of clips showing romanitcal scenes. Like 15 of the 40 clips are from High School Musical. What a good year for film.

8:29pm- Commercials must not be very expensive for the Oscars. Because they suck.

What, may I ask, is really the point?

2009-02-15T18:13:00.000-08:00

People of the world, you look silly when you cry. You look way cooler when laughing, smiling, after being whalloped in the testicles/ovaries, when angry, and even when trying to look cool (but then you also look pretty silly. you (and this is the plural you, the you that is the world) jut out your lower teeth too far when trying to look cool). But when people cry, it's just this facial contortion that does not seem right, your eyes get all tiny and squinty and leak fluid, your mouth gets weird, your hands get magnetized to your head as if they know, "Hey cover up, we look fucking weird!". Have Lifetime channel on enough in your home and you will be able to analyze this crying. I, of course, have little or no self knowledge of this "crying". The only things that make me really want to shed a tear are moving sports moments. Make-A-Wish week on Sportscenter, chances are there is a single Native American tear leaving my eye when I see a kid with legs get carried around the bases by Phillies SS Jimmy Rollins. Let me recount a tale of the Boston Celtics receiving their championship rings this year. Seeing Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce finally getting their rings along with, in a lesser way, Ray Allen, somehow made me have more Native American Single Tears (Native American Single Tears, The Official Tears of Men, and Well, Native Americans Everywhere).

I recently bought some new kind of Crest Mouthwash. I liked it at first until I realized something. The cap is not childproof. I want no part of mouthwash that is safe to have around children. What nonsense. Safe and supposed to kill germs? Come on now.

So, tacosmadebyapirate.com is up in some form or another. But as I am not really even sure who reads or looks for anything in this space anymore, I am not sure who will help me have the most ballin ass website ever. Please let me know if you wish to help. It would also help if anyone were looking at this drivel anymore. I like to know I am entertaining others, not just myself (although entertaining myself comes first...always, which is why, worry not, I still have a million hilarious thoughts a day...I just keep them to myself instead of dedicating time to the sheer brilliance that is me with whomever may be out there. I hope that when I mentioned tradway.blogspot.com I did not lose readers to people wishing to save money, although with the global economy as it is, not a bad idea).

Until soon. I promise.

WAAA WAAAAAA

2009-01-01T12:21:00.000-08:00

I know, I know, I've been a lazy fuck. Lazy, lazy, lazy. Unwilling. Sloth. Lacking of spirit, gumption, fire, spiss and/or vinegar. Well, I am done having a Monopoly Beyond Balderdash filled with Trouble, Chutes and Ladders, an overwhleming amount of what an Indian (dot) would call "Parcheesi", filled with all the bad guessing of a game of Pictionary that you may have played in your Life, and what can I say but Sorry, but not twice, you only get to hear that but Uno time, and if you think I will say it again, I will instead say to you "Don't Break the Ice, Cooties, Mad Gab, Risk, Barrel of Monkeys, Pick Up Sticks."

As of Christmas, I am now the proud owner of the domain tacosmadebyapirate.com Don't rish to the site yet, as there is nothing there. But I do have grand plans for it. There will be other contributors beside myself, video postings, places to buy t-shirts designed by me, a place to e-mail me where all you will get back is ethnic slurs and computer viruses, and maybe drawings by autistic children that you can buy, with all profits going to me. It's going to be real. It's going to be awesome. BUT, here is what I need.

1) Someone to design a website.
2) Someone to make a logo of a pirate making a taco. Probably a fish taco, you know, just because.

Eventually this logo will be on t-shirts for sale that will say witty things like "Tacosmadebyapirate.com Burned Down Disney World!"

Also, there will be a rum made by the site, how, I am not exactly sure, I do not know all inner workings of the Internet, and how machines do many things, but I am sure it can whip up some rum. The rum will have the motto "Get More Fuckin Wasted Then You Have Ever Been Ever, Wack Job" People will buy it for this very reason. It will hopefully somehow be 198 proof and disgusting, yet at the same time expensive.

I am tired of commercials for shows involving Frank TV as well as Tyler Perry. I have seen a combined zero minutes of these two shows and a combined 75 hours of commercials for these shows. I know people, yet somehow know NO MAN who watches either of these shows. So, if we blinded Frank Caliendo and Tyler Perry, and the viewership of these shows had been the perpetrator of this crime, and we asked them who did it, they would say " NO MAN did this to me!". Except Frank would say it in an unfunny John Madden voice and Tyler Perry would dress as a large black woman and say it. Sorry Frank, John Madden is funny enough on his own. And you don't look like any of the other characters you potray, so your job should be in radio, where we cannot tell you are a short stubby fat man. And Tyler, Martin Lawrence and Tracy Jordan already did being a large black woman except actually funny and not stupid or on TBS.

I realize that aside from not writing, another problem facing this blog is that many people may accidentally be going to tradway.blogspot.com. Go ahead, check it out. It's by some woman living in Massachusetts who calls herself "The Coupon Junkie". Her blog is all about coupon use. I want to take this time to warn her, get rid of your similar web address or I will order a large mushroom pizza to your house EVERYDAY. True, I don't know where you live. And to trick you up even more, I will sometimes pay for this pizza. I will keep you on your toes. And just when you expect that pizza to show up and you plan on eating it for dinner, I will send Thai food that night. Prepare for the worst, expect the worst, Coupon Junkie. You will never know what sort of food is being delivered to you.

WE SLEEP 18 HOURS BUT WE ALWAYS PARTY 24

2008-10-13T18:38:00.000-07:00

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....

2008-10-07T16:37:00.000-07:00

I have a vision. That is at the very least the funny way I thought of saying that sentence like a foreigner. By that I mean I now have VISION. (singular). Yes, my family will be glad to know and to potentially mock the fact that I once again, after a six years off, am wearing glasses. Here's how the tale goes. Sometime, I believe in the summer of 2002, I had my eyes checked. It was revealed at this time that I had an astigmatism and some sort of slightly bad vision which could be corrected with glasses. So, I got glasses, and I was supposed to wear them all the time. By about month two, I was only wearing them when I wanted to look awesome, smart, and sophisticated, and typically this was while drinking cases of beer or fifths of whiskey, so I am sure the sophistication worked for everyone. After maybe another month or so, the glasses took to only improving the sight of all the things around it on my desk. Fast forward several years, and me to a more advanced age, and I realize, "Well Tim, you have to squint to read things that are sort of far away. And you are merely being stubborn. Start wearing your glasses again. By the way you are one good looking guy." So, I sought out my glasses, only to find them horribly bent and containing only one lens. This was maybe two years ago. So last week, I finally took advantage of my vision insurance and went and got some glasses. So there. I am wearing them now. And they help. But don't tell me that my six years of stubbornness does not prove my extreme skills in that regard. (By the way the glasses are really stylish. And once again I look smarter than everyone. WEAR IT)

Everyone should watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Some critic or homeless man described it as some sort of raunchy version of Seinfeld. I guess I can sort of not really see that. For instance, a recent episode centered around the glory hole that they discovered in the bathroom of the bar they own. Wowie wowie.

It has been now at this point one year since my exodus from LA to Chicago. So far so good. I'll write soon. Questions and comments would really help. Instead I never get any of these sons or daughters of bitches. Even business reply mail gets sent back sometimes. You sons and daughters of bitches (no sexism here).

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

2008-09-13T10:12:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-08-23T09:13:00.000-07:00

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)

2008-08-19T19:38:00.000-07:00

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!!!

2008-08-18T18:52:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-17T19:34:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-08-16T10:37:00.001-07:00

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?

2008-07-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-06-29T11:59:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-08T16:54:00.000-07:00

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

Of Course

Please cast your votes.

Why'd You Take my Snacks, Snappy Johnson?

2008-05-04T18:04:00.000-07:00

My title sounds just like one of those books you would read in third grade after you got done with all your class work extra quickly (alphabetizing words, cursive, and addition...even for a third grader, come on) and needed moral guidance in the form of reading about someone with an odd name, usually something like Snappy, Two Bit, or Ralph. Snappy would invariably have been involved in some sort of petty offense, but would learn that what he had done was wrong and also volunteer to dole out soup at a shelter in a complete reversal of morality. But then the next day when you were done with your work you would discover a whole slew of Snappy Johnson books; books involving him stealing more, battering women, abusing animals and the elderly- thus leading to the discovery that Snappy was just a bad person. And since you were not a bad person, you did not need to learn these morals and therefore should have tried to get your "seat work" finished faster so you could grab the Connect Four game (or the nonsensical game of Little Orphan Annie, for which the main goal seemed to be to become Daddy Warbucks).

I hate it when people say "Long story short..." and then 27 and a half minutes later the phrase, "Well, I guess that was more of a short story long!" creeps from their lips. Was summarizing not a skill that these people worked on? How many intricate details are needed in a story for which the main point is about how they put mustard on your sandwich when you thought you had said no mustard. The other person waiting being a man wearing capri pants added little to the tale which was generally not entertaining anyways. So I actually am not sure of what is more annoying; people who tell tales that are of little or no entertainment value, or people who tell stories that are advertised as short but end up being way long and stupid (like the movies American Gangster or 27 Dresses).

Do you ever think you know a person, but then realize after seeing something they have that makes you totally change their impression of them? Some examples would include: someone with a calendar with twelve months of kittens playing with yarn, someone who has an impressive array of death metal music, someone who has a closet full of women's clothing (and is either a straight or lesbian male(lesbian males, be proud!)) , or, someone you discover strongly advocates the use of bungee cords to secure everything in the trunk of their car in the hopes that it will seemingly never move ever again like a WWE wrestler sitting on the back of their opponent when they outweigh them by 200 or more pounds. I recently was shocked to discover someone I knew was a 'BA" (Bungee Addict) and when I cracked up, they went on the heavy defensive asking about the shifting of items that occurs in my trunk...all I can say is that I hope i never become one of these mythical creatures of well known oddity.

ATTENTION: PARENTHETICAL (Sorry for the zero attempts at making any sort of segue between topics. I have been slacking too long on writing anything, and therefore do not care about what you think. When was the last time you even showered anyways? (It is also fun to make it seem as if I am writing to one person, like this is an intensely personal experience (you fuck)))

Fellow internet sensation, blogger, and evidently Tim Radway poseur Jason Mulgrew (http://www.jasonmulgrew.com/) just announced that he was moving to LA. Come on man, it's been done. People have done it. People like me, Gary Coleman, and people looking to break into the porn industry. So Mr. Mulgrew, even though I have reached out to you through e-mail, comment on myspace, skywriter, and that one time 18 mushroom pizzas were delivered to your neighborhood, you do not need to imitate me so badly.(Really, I never sent pizzas, and I got a great deal on the skywriter) Let me guess, you are going to buy a TV on craigslist from a girl who is moving to NY and then go back and start dating her. Nothing new under the sun my friend, nothing new.

That is all. Please give all comments/feedback/suggestions/ideas for topics/favorite places for burritos. All is appreciated.

Ham Sandwiches $350.00

2008-03-23T09:45:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-05T20:01:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-11T19:28:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-24T19:04:00.000-08:00

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

LIKE it? I love this cornbread so much I wanna take it back behind the middle school and get it pregnant!

2007-12-27T15:21:00.000-08:00

2007...wow....what a year it has been. Kim Jong Il shot an 18 on a golf course, the Yankees failed to win the World Series yet again, I ate many more radioactive elements than anyone ever should, bread jumped back on the scene, the children's literary character Madeline was no longer an orphan, I moved to Los Angeles, tens of people tried new foods, Barack Obama's name was named with countless words (osama, llama, panama ((pronounced incorrectly))) some dogs fought against Michael Vick or something, Joey Chestnut became the Real American Hero by eating a bunch of wieners quickly (a venue in which so many hookers have failed), a spider plant offshoot begat another spider plant, someone somewhere got drunk and tried to play a game of MLB '07 (I probably know them), at minimum seventeen people got drunk, 14 illegal bottlerockets were purchased, spiderman 3 proved spiderman with tobey maguire in it has gone as far as it can go with some demented waif who was a jockey in Seabiscuit, biscuits reemerged on the scene as a food I do not really enjoy and will throw at people if served them, political races heated up (yet all candidates refused my offer for an open Q & A with me and some delicious microwavable foods with me, most of them citing the threat of arsenic in my foods), tears accidentally welled up in my eyes a couple of times (both times due to hot sauce and vicious eye pokings), Michael Keaton appeared in ALL of my favorite movies of the year, the nickname "Boss" was bestowed upon at minimum 15 people by me, 3 of them definitely wanted to fight me, Major League 2 was a decent movie, my dog smelled a majority of the time, the Cubs won the Central division, and made me get really wasted in the playoffs, the bubonic plague once again failed to be a really big epidemic this year, reaer deltoids were never really formally worked out by anyone besides HGH users (Roger Clemens, Miguel Tejada, Brian Munoz, etc.), Superbad provided some funny material for people to say as did Knocked Up, as did accidentally Ratatouille and Die Hard 4 (which I have still yet to see, but you know, sometimes you just hear), Lily Munster Rod Beck Barbaro Anna Nicole Smith Ernest and Gallo (yes both of them) and even Kurt Vonnegut died in this 2007th year since year Zero.

Yet looking back on all of it, nothing could really be all that different then it ended up turning out. Time for an extremely deep sentence. Things that happened would have probably happened even if other things had not have happened and even if the other things not happened stuff probably still would have happened with all the happenings that were just going to have happened based on what else had happened and if things did not happen they may have not been supposed to have happened or did not happen since other things had not happened and did not seem like they were going to happen, and even had they happened, if they were not supposed to happen then even if they had happened it would just as if they did not happen.

2008 will indeed be a different year, full of new smells, shapes (like the octangle!), vegetables, and other such whatnot. So just remember to go at it with all the vim and vigor that you might normally reserve for an all night dance party after you had consumed fifteen pounds of sugar and some weasel dust.

Batman was just a rich guy in a batsuit, not a superhero

2007-12-07T12:35:00.000-08:00

Seriously though Batman, quit even entering the whole superhero conversation. You are not a superhero. Superheroes have superpowers. You are a badass rich dude who is skilled in the martial arts, dishing out creepy one liners, and using all sorts of gadgetry to fight really weird bad guys. Seriouslly, imaging Superman vs the Joker. No contest. Superman vs. the Penguin..that's not even an episode or a lesser bad guy in a movie. So, stop Batman, I think I just needed to get that off my chest. It's been bugging me for a while.

As many more major metropolitan areas ban all public smoking, Chicago is joining in that fray very soon. There was a series of commercials that aired several months ago and also some currently that mainly posed the key question, "What is to be done with all the ashtrays?" (Rather than the really important questions they should have been asking.."How much frostbite do you think will occur from smokers going outside?" or "Are restaurants that sell seafood for really cheap even safe?" or even "What are you doing on New Year's Eve 2010?")

Logically, I have some ideas, however they are really based in no logic, it's really just logical that I would even have some ideas in the first place.

1) Build a town called Ashtrayville. It would be best if the ashtrays were all cleaned pretty well first, but given the wide variety of shapes and colors ashtrays come in, this could totally work. It would be a beautiful city. Kids would go on field trips there and be mystified as to what the hell all the oddly shaped plastic thingies were...and there would also be nicer structures featuring the nicer ashtrays as well. It would be brilliant.

2) Ashtrays used as tiny serving dishes at receptions and whatnot (chicken nugget fests, tiny food parties, hot sauce eating contests). Once again, you need to clean them, this time even more thoroughly as people like Brian will love eating out of them so much he will begin using them for all meals, and most drinks. A tiny ashtray full of pretzels at a bar could just be what the doctor ordered sometimes. And maybe renaming them would be good. Like tiny slotted plastic bowls.

3) Things to throw at people bugging me. Seriously, give me all the ashtrays. I would literally carry them around just as I do a blue pen and use it to whip, frisbee style, at people who are bugging me at that current juncture, be it from something they have said, how they look, or just generally what they represent.

The other day I was watching an episode of Seinfeld where Jerry is angered by women who kiss him hello. He even uttered the classic line after Kramer had hung pictures of everyone in Jerry's apartment building and he was receiving an abundance of kisses hello, "I feel like Richard Dawson down there." (Richard Dawson is, of course, the old, old Family Feud host who would pretty much makeout with every woman on the show). And I must say, I feel very similar to Jerry about the kiss hello. My feelings are slightly less opposed if I know the kiss is coming, but even then I turn my head in such a way that the person attmepting the kiss actually just makes a kissing noise and touches cheeks with me. So, that is a slight escape. But I would really like to eliminate this all together. What is even worse is when I am not aware the kiss is coming, especially given my larger stature than most all women who are trying to give me the kiss on the cheek hello..then I am trying to hug (which I just learned a few years ago) and squatting over so I can awkwardly receive a kiss on the cheek.. So, next time, whether I know it is coming or not, I am either going to nuzzle my nose into the neck of the offending party, go for a kiss directly on the lips (age appropriatness here...like I will not do that to my grandmother, she gets a free pass), or maybe lick the side of a face. I am willing to bet either the wrong notion would be gathered or that would be the last kiss on the cheek I received from that person.

THAT IS ALL. KONICHIWA BITCHES.

Through concentration, I can raise and lower my cholesterol at will

2007-11-25T17:14:00.000-08:00

Things That Are Silly To Me Lately:
1) Whimsical Childrens Cereals
2) TV News Programs
3) Meth
4) Parking Tickets
5) People who think cartography is still a good profession to get into
6) Names from the 1930's being used now

Even with the recent focus on healthier foods for children so we don't end up with a generation of the functionally obese, (they can move around, but they can also eat all your bacon. and not even be kind enough to thank you...it's just the way of the youngest generation, they aren't that well-mannered either. or they will come to your fourth of July BBQ and eat as a casual snack all the cheese you intended to use on the burgers, then go home with your sister...it's sort of a tit for tat sort of thing) I still notice a large number of children's cereals that are new and definitely cater to children...and don't scream health. But they crack me up. I swear it is a matter of time before Krispy Kreme makes a cereal that is merely cut up pieces of their doughnuts. For god's sake, there is actually a chocolate Chex...wow. And everytime I walk down the cereal aisle, I hear a kid whining to their parent/guardian/kidnapper who is kind enough to ask them what kind of cereal they want, "Can't we get some Cinammon Roll-O's/ Tiny French Toast with Extra High Fructose Corn Syrup Graham-o-Wham's/ Fudgem's?" You probably shouldn't, kid.

I always love when people refer to something they have heard from the news on television. I really have not seen much on their that offers anything too redeeming or has any value to bring up in conversation. I have recently begun watching a morning TV show on CNN a couple days a week with some sort of purdy lady named Robin who is the host...now while it is obvious Robin tries hard to convey excitement about her job, here is a rundown of the top stories from one day, which makes me really wonder if she considers herself a news journalist of a high degree: "Homeless Man Earns Money" (he had turned in a person who was wanted...not just cashed in his latest bag of cans), "Something or Other About that Kanye West's Mom's Doctor", "Strange Weather Patterns Somewhere", and "Funny Video of Baby Doing Something, Possibly Involving a Squirrel". So, whenever I hear someone talking about something they saw on the news, my ears perk up because I am ready to talk about something of obviously extreme importance.

Meth popularity seems to be at an all time high...and I am not talking about the actual drug, but rather about the popularity of it getting mentioned on TV shows, commercials and other ads against doing it, and just all sorts of meth stuff. Just a couple things about meth: on the couple of TV shows I have seen it on, the users of the drug had been at a party and were introduced to it. I have partied, and I know lots of crazy people and I have done some pretty wild stuff, but NEVER have I been anywhere when some people had been doing meth at a party, nor have I ever been in such a state where I would think, "Hey self, that sounds like a good idea...yeah..definitely try some meth." My friend Joe who just became a Chicago cop told me about some of things that are in meth, which include gasoline, WD 40, steel wool, Clorox and other such fun things...what a wild time. Silly meth. You so crazy.

I understand the whole idea of parking tickets, but at the same time I don't really understand why they have to be given out so readily. You mean I have to pay that much money because for some short period of time I stationed my vehicle in this particular spot? Even if I did park in a handicapped spot while not being handicapped, does that not demonstrate some sort of mental handicap? I just sort of wish that people who gave out parking tickets were more laid back in their approach and just went after the real assholes...so yeah, people who aren't me. People without plate IL 920 7374. Others. All others if you wish.

Maps are nearly dead. I can look at my parents house, my house, and even into your swimming pool (I use the familiar you here) all on Google Earth. And how many people carry around a map to get somewhere? They are mainly just a large fire hazard or something to use when you have accidentally thrown your picnic blanket in the wash and are having some sort of impromptu picnic/ paper airplane throwing contest with local youths (don't ask how this works with the blanket...you would need a far better understanding of physics before I could even begin to explain that to you). Just tell people you are really into cartography, it still sounds cool and lower IQ'ed women will be impressed. I once told people I was an ornithologist. It was TONS of fun.

Clarence. Edith. Beatrice. Edna.

That is all.

I’m Not Doing Anything Tonite…Because I Don’t Work at a Bowling Alley

2007-11-12T13:54:00.000-08:00

As anyone who knows me can attest, there are some things that bother me and no, I can really not offer any sane sounding explanation as to why these things bug me because god knows I do enough annoying shit myself (red clouding, snoring, correcting others when they are wrong, being stubborn, smelling great and looking better than you, etc.). But one of the things that has begun to bother me more than anything is the spelling of the word tonight as tonite. If you are a person capable of counting, you can easily note that the second spelling has only one less letter than the correct spelling. Additionally, I believe unless you are the owner or employee (or former employee, so Brian and Paul are good on this one) of a bowling alley, there does not seem to be any reason for people to be using this word. It just makes me feel so cheap and dirty, as if people are wondering if I am going to clean up the Cheeto debris in my trailer and get out my finest mugs to pour malt beverages in that night with them. Some casual excuses I have heard are from those who like to text message, saying that it is somehow easier to spell, but it can’t be any less than a few pushes of a button. Because unless my stubborn side really needs to be full exposure and people want me to seemingly make up my own entire language of uglyfied words (and I don’t mean the typical made up words I use in an attempt to sound smarter) tonite needs to stop…tonight. HAHA. Witty. But I guess if bowling were somehow involved in YOUR plans for the evening, you can just ask me what I am doing that night. And if spelling is really just not your forte, then syugvbcui su. I think you will have known what that meant.

The other day I was reading an article about questions that are increasing in popularity during the job interview process. Two of them that really befuddle me are as follows:

1)What is your biggest accomplishment?
2) Who are your heroes?

The thing about the accomplishment question is, I am not really sure anything IS my biggest accomplishment thus far. I mean, I am sure graduating from college would be the easiest answer, but college was just sort of what I was supposed to do after high school, no questions asked. And if the interviewer came back with a question about if I was the first in my family to graduate or something, I would have to tell them no, and yet still somehow make it seem like it was so big awesome accomplishment that I was really proud of. On the other hand, who would want to hear about me being so proud of completing a nine and nine (a beer and a hot dog every inning of a baseball game)? I mean, it is a proud distinction of mine, but I am not sure how the rest of the world would perceive this. What else have I really done? I’ve come up with some funny nicknames and said some funny things on occasion as well as one year coming in first in both a fantasy football AND basketball league, but again, I am sure this is not the caliber of answer for which people would be looking. Obviously I need to save puppies/babies/senior citizens from a fire…all while having a broken leg. I guess I could refer to this very blog as some sort of great accomplishment but I used some curse words once and stuff…so no.

Once again, I am obviously lacking in solid answers for the heroes question. I am not sure anyone looking to hire me based on a answer of “ninjas and James Polk”. I mean, ninjas are frickin awesome and James Polk is only a hero because I feel he was way underrated as a President, but it’s not like I really look up to these people. Wouldn’t they want to hear some answer more like “My grandfather, who saved a bunch of puppies/babies/ and senior citizens from a fire and also invented the lightbulb and telephone…and the computer.” So, if you want to be my hero (Enrique Iglesias?...was your song for me) just start doing some sort of heroic stuff that I would find awesome then I can mention this hero…then again I have never really considered any sort of epic hero or anything like that. Oh well.

Yelling Makes Talking Fun!

2007-11-01T14:24:00.000-07:00

While several grand ideas have passed through my mind this past week, such as “Commit a crime, go to prison, then you can lift weights and read books…you will be so strong and well read by the time you leave.” Then I remember all the butt sex and think that might be a bad idea, not to mention the criminal record. Additionally I have wondered about breaking into the world of infomercials. Ron Popeil is getting pretty old and someone new will need to spray fake hair on their head, show how to work a steamer or rotisserie machine, all the while excitedly slashing the price of what I was selling and throwing in a set knives (sorry no COD’S). But then I did a google search on how to become an infomercial dude, and nothing came up. Sad story but true. And it might be due in part to my somewhat faulty google searching technique. Not only that, but Paul was looking at all my past Google searches yesterday, and I have now realized I really search for some varying subjects.
Here are some of these totally wacky searches, and potentially I can provide some insight as to why I searched for these things…if I can’t provide that insight, maybe someone else can…like a highly trained psychologist.
“1993 Rockies Roster”
This seems simple enough, I for some reason wanted to know who was on the first Colorado Rockies team. I cannot remember all these things off the top of my head…I was in 4th grade at the time and all I could remember were Dante Bichette and Charlie Hayes being on that team…which is weird because I still cannot remember anyone else right now. Did they even have any pitchers?
“Animals that start with M”
This might go along with a later search I saw for “best scattergories answers”. What is very odd about this is the fact that this search was probably done while I was out in LA, and I can assure you I at no point played any Scattergories while out there. (I am not sure why I have to offer assurance as if I am claiming that I did not do meth while I was there). But, it is not a totally shabby idea to look for good Scattergories answers ahead of time…any advantage for victory helps.
“Get on a game show”
Simple, I want to get on a game show. Pretty much anyone…well Jeopardy would be ideal, but they seem to be frightened of the amount of money I could win, and are hoping I will go on a lesser game show, like any hosted by Chuck Woolery (still alive?)
“Liquor Stores by Barrington and San Vicente”
Ahhh yes, the era of my LA adventure when I did not have a car for a few weeks. I was probably being held at gunpoint by some alcohol fiend who wanted to know where to get liquor near my apartment…I was definitely not in need of such libations for myself, as drinking by yourself at home is wrong. Wrong like a fox.

“Superman Peeing”
Well, at my apartment in LA, I also had my own bathroom, and I was looking for a fine decorative piece to put up in the bathroom. I recall from my youth some friends of my parents who had an artistic rendition of Superman peeing very forcefully and breaking a toilet…I wanted one of those. I would like to think that people should be able to come into my living area when I am not there and get a general feel for who I am (save the situation right now with my mattress on the floor of a basement). A peeing Superman would do just that.
“Uses of the Semi Colon”
FRIDAY. NIGHT. FUN.
“Words like virus”
This was probably later on the same Friday night. Sad thing is, this might be true. And the even sadder thing is, I may have taken a trek to a liquor store before this (see aforementioned Google search) and this was all I was doing on a Friday evening. Who will ever know the truth?

On a more somber note, I would like everyone to Goulet their favorite rap song in honor of the recent passing of one of my personal favorites, Robert Goulet. Alright…so I really liked him because of Will Ferrells impersonation of him, but obviously without such a man actually existing, Will Ferrell is not acting like a gaudy caricature of him. (Once again, I am not so sure it was that over the top…Robert Goulet was a wild man). But anywho, be sure to Goulet some of your favorite rap, it’s what Robert would have wanted (No, what he really would have wanted is to be still alive I guess). As his SNL self said in his skit “Not by some dubious ruffian without the chops, but by a professionally trained voice man.”

A Story is like skirts,long enough to cover the subject short enough to keep things interesting

2007-10-25T14:37:00.000-07:00

The other day when I innocently enough logged in to Yahoo to check on some fantasy sports when this story headline caught my eye (and actually it was not even a headline, it was like the 7th story down...poor, poor man) "MAN KILLED BY GANG OF WILD MONKEYS".

Sorry MAN, but I chuckled my ass off at your demise. I cannot think of many more headlines about death that I could read on Yahoo and have such a fine chuckle and immeidately shout the headline out to everyone else within listening range. Paul even said that should he die in an attack perpetrated by a gang of wild monkeys, he wants everyone to enjoy a fine chuckle, a guffaw, maybe even a knee slap/crying from laughing humor in addition to bringing tiny stuffed monkeys and wearinf Hawaiian shirts at his funeral. I say, how could we not laugh it up? Just wrap your mind around it, GANG OF WILD MONKEYS. You see some monkeys walking down the street, throw up the wrong gang sign or wear the wrong color, and next thing you know, you're getting a Chiquita slammed down your throat.

So, here are some other funny ways to bite it:
Unclogging a Sink- I only mention this because the other night Logan and I were trying to unclog a sink and first used baking soda and vinegar along with some hot water. This did nothing so we then used some Draino. I mentioned "What if this blew us all up right now? It would probably look like some cult suicide with boht the state of this house and my bed haphazardly thrown on the floor in the next room."

Getting a Bean or Marble Stuck in your Nose

Trying to Float Away in a Chair with Balloons tied to it to float away

And Darwin Award favorite, farting in a room with not enough ventilation so that your own gas kills you.

Lately for some reason I have had an extreme problem with exaggeration, particularly when it is numerically related. A few weeks ago I declared that the Cubs were going to score 27 runs in one third of an inning. Obviously this did not happen. After Randy Moss caught his second TD of the first half last week and his 11th of the season, I quickly asked if he was going to catch 100. When someone asked for odds on the Rams to win the Super Bowl or something like that, I threw out 75,000,000-1. I have no clue what has gotten into me. I am just like one of those little kids who has no sense of how numbers actually work. What's two plus two? Threeve?

A couple weeks ago my Mom was kind enough to purchase me some new dress shoes. They are very stylish. But there is only one problem: they have spent the last couple weeks trying to MURDER my feet. I actually no longer have a left heel and only one toe remains on my right foot, so I guess it really takes care of all my shoes sizing problems. Am I supposed to oil these shoes up and put some string around them with a baseball in it? I am not sure. Instead I just keep wearing them, and being manly...at least until the gangrene from all the wounds sets in and becomes too much to bear.

THAT IS ALL. I have things to do. Like finding a life.

Cow Sexy Time, Keg Races and Utah, Oh my

2007-10-10T16:47:00.000-07:00

So, my jungle friends, I just recently wrapped up the second cross country journey in the last five months, but let me tell you- this one was a lot more fun. There were obviously a few reasons why this was more fun, namely that Brian was kind enough to fly out and make the journey back with me, but also I saw some cows boning by the side of the road. So, mainly those two reasons.

Brian arrived at LAX around 8:30 on Saturday night a week and a half ago. From there, we headed straight to Vegas. (Fill in crazy Vegas stories here...if you have read about any other Vegas excursions, this one was a lot of the same- excessive drinking, not excessive sleeping, funny moments, Brian having a lame beard that looked like he had meticulously glued armpit hair to his face, me having an awesome beard, hours in the pool, ladies being oddly attracted to my awesome beard and (so it seemed) laughing at Brian's armpit hair beard, etc.) On Tuesday morning, we left Vegas.

I was pretty sure I was going to die. Thankfully I did not, although it took several Gatorades, some food, and 7 shocks with the paddles to make it as such. To make matters worse, we planned a long day of driving for the day we left Vegas for a couple reasons: 1)we needed to start making some progress easterly and 2) That evil bitch of a state, Utah.

As I believe I commented on Utah before, there is nothing there. It is rock after rock after rock with no civilizations for hundreds of miles at a time. I believe Utah has scary people with the plague living in these rocks who ill try and eat you if you stop (sort of like Red Light, Green Light the mortality version). So, we drove and drove and drove..and drove and drove. So, not only is it boring, but it is quite expansive. After most of the Utah drive was over, Brian and I came up with a theory that all the states around Utah pretty much fucked them over. "Hey Utah, we'll give you a really geometric shape AND the Great Salt Lake" (snickers) Then Colorado took all the awesome mountains. California took a whole bunh of stuff, and Arizona took all the senior citizens. Everyone wins. Alo, while in Utah, Brian kept wanting to stop and become a polygamist. I'm not sure he really understood the whole idea.

After an intense day full of driving we ended up in Vail, CO crashing at the swankiest Holday Inn the world has ever known. Yet, even though we showed up at 11:30 at night, the room still cost way too much considering our purposes (get some sleep, listen with glasses through the walls to hear the neighbors, leer at anyone using the pool in the morning). Our original destination had been Denver for that night, but Utah really took a lot out of us. So, he next morning we set out for our intended destination of Lincoln, Nebraska with the plan to stop there, get a room downtown and go out and drink and watch the Cubs exciting day one action.

On the way to Lincoln, we got to see some unexpected cow sex action. Which is pretty funny to see. (And that morning before we left we had been watching some sort of animal funny videos show where they showed a kangaroo masturbating...I don't think many people can top that combo in one day).

It turns out Lincoln thinks they are some sort of vacation Mecca an downtown has the right to try and charge $169/night for a room with two beds (I almost boldly asked if there were some sort of unspoken extras thrown in while tugging on my right ear...okay, so I did, but the Nebraska folk did not pick up on that). So we ended up in some large ass room with a couch at a Days Inn down the road with a case of beer and some pizza watching the game. As far as the game went I would rather not talk about it. Just as I was going to drift off to sleep, Brian turned on the scary ass movie (and I know most of you don't think so, but I tend to be a huge pansy) Stir of Echoes. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, I heard..did not even see...but heard some scary dialogue which caused my heart to race and ended up causing me to be awake until roughly 6:30am. I do not know why this happens to me.

Thankfully that day called for only a short day of driving to Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa. On the way there I was communicating with Trevor who reminded me he knew a girl who Brian and I had both met who went there. He furnished us with her number, we called her, and lo and behold, that evening we are fake pretending to be in the frat that was paired with her sorority for some keg races at a bar. The way these races work is that each team has a number and once the race starts it turns into the pi at Wall Street with everyone feverishly signaling their number and bartenders bringing them beer from said corresponding number. Brian and I, born for just such an event, shoved our way to the front and were chugging down beer after beer. The only problem was, we saw hardly any other people holding up "1's" and we lost. (Although my frat association did come in handy later in the bathroom when an angry man knocked a soap dispenser off the wall and looked at my hand to see that we were "brothers").

The next day it was back to Chicago, and once again back out to drink.

Saturday, back out for the Cubs game and back out to drink in the city that evening. It was on Saturday evening that I was dressed up in some of the oddest clothes I have ever worn, felt like a big fool, and nearly got mauled as if I were one of those guys from an Axe body spray commercial. The way my ensemble was thrown together is that we were over at Bryce's before going out, he had some clothes he was giving away, Brian and Paul threw together some crazy ensemble, and I may have had enough to drink during the Cubs game to wear it. But, like I said, this odd ensemble caused some sort of crazy animal magnetism, and a lot of fear on my end that I was going to get beat up in the mens bathroom. For your viewing dismay:

So, I will not be dresing like that again. I just felt too weird. Or I jut don't have any of those clothes myself.

So now, I am just doing the freaking out about being unemployed thing and working really hard to get a new job an not have to ask some sort of Mafia crime lord for money. So far, so good.

"God, Tim, he's not Chuck Norris"

2007-09-20T21:16:00.000-07:00

The above quote was spoken to me by Brian about Green Bay Packers QB Brett Favre. Brian had commented to me that Green Bay had no offensive line to protect Favre, and I replied by saying that he did not need one. And he is in fact not Chuck Norris, so therefore I guess a one man line is in order. But I swear to...ummm...a higher power when I say that I do not desire to watch any more highlights of Favre evading would be tacklers for about fifteen seconds then throwing a three foot underhanded shovel pass which is then turned into a three yard gain. THIS IS NOT A HIGHLIGHT. THIS IS THE KIND OF LAME STUFF THAT HAPPENS WHEN NON-PROFESSIONALS PLAY.

This past Sunday, I went to one of my favorite places in the world- the laundromat. It is a place, where first of all, I can do one of my least favorite things, which is laundry, in a minimal amount of time with an elevated amount of entertainment; great music, great people, occasional homeless altercations...wow. For instance this past Sunday I arrived at the metallic den of washers and dryers around 11am to hear the delightful melody of Rick James' Superfreak (and this particular laundromat, located in in freethinking Venice, plays the actual songs, not the elevator music). This was enough to get me pretty pumped up for the cleaning of my garments, but I got even more amped when I reached the Super Large Washer area and heard a man loudly making commentary on the song to no one in particular:

(After the line "the kind you don't take home to mother" had just played)
"Hear that? He was still livin at home when he wrote this song...Hey Mom, don't worry about this girl I'm bringin home. Then he sold a million copies and moved out, but whaddya know, three months later..'Hey Mom! I'm movin back in, I smoked all those crack rocks and I'm movin back in."

Wow. This was going to be a special laundry experience.

But then, the unexpected happened. My fellow launderers let me down in a big way, not once, not twice, but three times. Allow me to explain. Everytime I go to one of these locations, I secretly hope that a truly cinematic well-choreographed dance routine on top of washers, dryers and folding tables will suddenly erupt. For some reason this past Sunday I was even more hopeful than usual.

As I began folding my first load, I walked over to an empty folding table with my back to the room and heard what I thought to be a perfect song for everyone to bust out into dance- an old Michael Jackson favorite- "Pretty Young Thing". I could feel the smile creep onto my face as I slowly glanced back over my shoulder, ready to see the Mexican family to my right jump on top of the single load washers and start the room a dancin. Nevermind that none of us had ever met (although the Mexican family may have had some practice together) nor really had any dancing abilities, it would just be one of those magic moments when feet would know how to move, hands would know when to do a rhythmic jazz shake, and more capable men would be aware of when to toss around women back and forth across aisles. Alas, no one else seemed to notice and I reluctantly returned to folding my laundry, thinking that maybe this was just not the right song or the right moment.

No more than ten minutes later Prince's "When Doves Cry" came blaring over the sound system, seemingly louder than the past few songs, chiding everyone to grab any purple-tinted article they could grab and get ready for the dance and most memorable moment of their to this point feeble existences. I was thinking some low to the ground, walking forward in a flying V pattern snapping was in order. However, as I turned around to do so, I noticed only one other patron that may have been ready for this twinkle in time, but alas she was just using some very emphatic gestures for folding some garments.

I had to use the old noggin once again to think what had gone wrong. Catchy song? Check. Lots of people, having fun? Check. Purpley colored stuff around? I guess some people had some, so check. Appropriate things to jump around on and slide under for a good dance routine? Check. Maybe the songs were too old for this generally younger crowd, maybe the well choreographed top secret dance routine had happened before I got there, maybe I was just not reading the moment right...but I just had no clue.

Just as I was putting my laundry in my bag and ready to head home, I got that gleam in my eye once again when some Justin Timberlake song came on (true I did once announce I was upset with all the female singers playing on the radio presets only to discover that one of them was in fact Timberlake) and I was thinking....this is it...a trendy new song for this younger crowd...it's time to fuckin dance. And nothing. No one even flinched.

After I was asked to get down off the folding table and once I explained I was already on my way out, they still asked me not to come back. I think I know why: they knew they were only another visit or two from me away from turning into the trendiest laundromat in all of LA.

You Can't Imagine You Will be Listening to Beautiful Stranger

2007-09-14T21:01:00.000-07:00

As today I sat on my lunch break, initially wondering why I had not purchased hardly enough food to last me through five days of the week (and at that, I bought some really shitty stuff...I must have been really out of it on Monday when I went to the store), and secondly wondering how likely it would be that I would be at a Subway, in Los Angeles, on my lunch break, listening to Beautiful Stranger by Madonna...I decided it would have been highly unlikely for me to be in such a position. First of all, when I eat Subway, normally I do not choose the dine in option, as when you do this you typically run into: a)a slew of people trying to lose weight but eating two footlong chicken and bacon ranches and leaving you to wonder why they also got the chips and the cola that would satiate a whole village and b)homeless people being fed the low grade meat. Secondly, the weather in LA, while one of the factors that is freaking me out about this place, as I have decided I love seasonality, is always beautiful, and the outdoor seating areas are lovely outside this particular Subway. Thirdly, the homeless seem to always be getting free sandwiches at Subway, which, while I have no problem with that, tends to hurt my appetite a little. So, yes, a different experience.

While walking to the bathroom the other day at work ( I work in a 24 floor large office building), I noted a grizzly old janitor man. I decided janitors who are in the profession after the age of 50 have three primary jobs, and in this order:

1)Have an awesome mustache.
2)Be grizzled, stare angrily ahead.
3) Leer at women.

The mustache part is by far the most important. Sure you can be angry as you are seemingly a professional janitor, but you know they are spending hours at night at home grooming their mustache, which is most admirable. I would love to have a job where I could steam around angrily, leer at women and be extremely grizzled. I mean, think about it, sure you have to occasionally clean overflown toilets and such, but you have permission to have an awesome stache, seem super angry, and stare at attractive women, it is totally expected.

OJ Simpson was included as a suspect in some sort of Las Vegas sports memorabilia heist today, and it only made me thing one thing: I want to be a suspect. Why only suspect the crazy former NFLer who was suspected of murdering a few people? Do you know what joy it would give me at work or to be watching ESPN and see my name scroll across the bottom line: OJ SIMPSON, SEPERATELY TIM RADWAY SUSPECTED OF HOTEL ROOM BREAK-IN... I would be so proud to round up alibis and know exactly what was up. It would make my life so very exciting.

That is all I have for now. And shut up, what have you done for me lately?

Hopefully No Bipolar People Are Using Hotmail Anymore

2007-09-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

Hotmail.com, my longtime personal e-mail provider (man, the structure of that sentence was way off, making it sound as if hotmail.com is a site designed specifically for the intent of use by one Timothy C. Radway ((or as Citibank knows me, Timothy R. Radway…I got into an argument with them about my middle initial…they insisted they were right. Some customer support people are just a little off)), which would be nice for a website to be so dedicated, but it is not really the case) has recently began making changes to their appearance, trying to become more sleek and less like the “even homeless men who round up quarters to use the internet at the library to look at porn can have a hotmail account” that they always have been. One of the interesting new features is that, if you login frequently or have your e-mail address set to be remembered by the site (or as far as I know, there are people in India who remember it and type it in for you),all you have to do is type in your password. BUT, if you are not that e-mail address, rather than something saying “Change e-mail address” there is a small bar you can click on under the remembered address that just says “Forget me”. I, for some reason think this is a tad weird, and for the Wellbutrin taking crowd, I am sure that could not be some sort of upper to see this everytime they check their e-mail…but what do I know?

As I sat in the LAX airport today, waiting to board my plane back to Chicago for my friend Adam’s wedding, I did what I do best: creepily observed people without them knowing…alright, so that one girl noticed my frequent observation, and I am pretty sire she smiled before she walked away really fast, so there is that. But anyways, I love watching people that think and seem to act like they are on a remote island by themselves. (But as John Donne told us “No man is an island…except for people who have to buy two seats on airplanes…they are islands, and typically quite buoyant”) So, here are some of my casual, asinine, non sociological observations.
There are all sorts of different types of eaters and chewers around. This is where it really helps people to think they are alone, as well as evidently invisible, as their eating habits cannot possibly be the same when they are dining with others. Anyways, of the types of chewers I noticed, there are a few, and even one that looks sort of like a dinosaur.
a)The ripper- This person seems to have teeth with the sharpness and chewing ability of a spoon. They have to clamp down on their food (in the case of the ripper I was observing, the food culprit/victim was pizza and an apple…whoa was the apple an intriguing view) then turn their head back and forth several times to rip off a portion to then slowly allow the saliva in their mouth to dissolve for them to swallow. It is very odd to watch and makes me wonder. The only time most people turn to ripping is with a crusty loaf or something like that, not for every food.

3) The big mouth- This person, not to be confused with the small bite/quick chewer, evidently desires to eat their meal in approximately 2…well, to 2 bites. The man I observed using this tasteful tactic was eating a rather large sandwich, and after each bite he had the cheek filled appearance of a squirrel storing nuts for the winter, or a pelican looking all pelican like.

qIV) The dinosaur- This person watches a lot of tapes and animations of brachiosauruses and their eating technique, and imitates it to a T. Modern animals similar in fashion are cows and really old people and monkeys. This person is at the very least deliberate in their eating. Maybe they only have gums, I don’t know.

1712) The talker- I am not entirely sure how this person ever actually consumes any food. I noted three of these people. They had entire servings of meals in front of them and spent an entire 45 minutes to an hour talking either to; an uninterested person next to them, some bored work associate on their cell phone, or to the maintenance staff of the airport (I think this may have just been a maintenance man carrying around a pizza though). All I can say is, weird.

WAXY) The small bite/quick chewer- As I referenced before, this person takes very small bites, masticates thoroughly, and swallows and choking on their food is never a danger. The only downside to this eating style is that it is time consuming and sort of gross to watch…it’s like watching a fat man lotion his back. Just go with me on my analogies.

The other interesting and slightly funny/irritating thing to me is the way people will begin sitting or standing in the boarding area long before it is actually time to board. The comical thing about this is: have these people never been on an airplane? Much less a Southwest flight…what is the rush? Do you know of some ultra secret seating area that is better than all the other tiny rows with all the same chance of sitting next to someone with body odor/ bad stories/ a little “extra” for you in your seat/the armrest hog? Weirdos. I usually end up smugly waiting until everyone else is on the plane…at least I maximize my time spent sitting down…good practice for the unfortunate paralysis that will end up plaguing me unexpectedly (of course it will be psychosomatic…Ricky Bobby style)

WORD UP.

Labor Day is a day off....weird

2007-09-03T12:54:00.000-07:00

I really have no clue how Labor Day came about, nor will I spend the time to go read a Wikipedia entry about it (especially as I have had very...let's just call them skeptical opinions of the last few wikipedia entries I have referenced...I have a feeling that Bulgaria has very little to do in actuality with the world of puppetry...) but I can say it is very odd to have Labor Day be a holiday and day off work. Why on all actual days of Labor do we work, and then on the one specificall called Labor Day, no onbe works (except for prostitutes waiting to prey on unsuspecting politicians on their way back from a 3 Smirnoff Ice too many Laboir Day BBQ. Even though I personally think 3 Smirnoff Ice are too many. But yeah, hookers are still out, I've heard at least).

This weekend I have been in the northern California area with Eliot and hanging out with former 742 housemate Derek. It definitely felt like a little slice of 742 on Saturday when we headed over to Derek's in the mid afternoon with a case of beer and a bottle of Jack, began playing Guitar Hero, and then...oops...suddenly it was midnight and so much liquor had been consumed that I am not even sure where it had all gone, nor why we were doing such random things like watching a car chase scene from the 1968 movie Bullitt. So yeah, one of those nights.

On the drive up here, we happened to stop in a very small town called Buttonwillow, (Beware the seedy underbelly of Buttonwillow) which led to me wondering about certain compund words which would sound funny and be memorable no matter what. Here are some rules I thought of:

-Button + Pretty much any other word is going to be a memorable town name. It all really just depends on how friendly you want your town to come across. Buttonwillow...friendly. Buttontail...friendly...Buttonmurder, not so kind, but tell me you are forgetting that pit stop...

-Pairing two words that you would never think to see together: Kindfraud, Eviltickle, Trustworthybelgian . You get the idea. In fact, stay away from Trustworthybelgian this time of year...the weather there is awful.

-Pairing together words that are funny by themselves= double funny. Weinerballs, Schlongtaco. Okay, maybe this is only funny to pubescent teenage boys to men the age of 60. But that is a key demographic group.

Well, to my utter dismay, I have nothing to say. Except for the stuff I already said.

I've never been the sort to pat myself on the back, but that was before I had a piece of steak lodged in my windpipe

2007-08-26T19:40:00.000-07:00

It seems to me that recently, everything I have read by anyone, both those in the literary world, and those "veterans" who write things on cardboard (typically expressing their desires for food and board, and ability to perform menial tasks for money, and that they should be allowed to do so due to their current homeless and war served experience, and that none of those who would invite such a person into their home should be the least bit concerned about a)the smell b)the threat of crime or b)the army of fleas prepared to get to work as well ((of course that last part is implied, it would be ridiculous to fit it all on one piece of cardboard))) and stand by the side of the road, has been about songs that have shaped their lives. Those who are the literary type list songs and write paragraphs about what those songs mean. The cardboard wielding homeless might scrawl a song title on their cardboard (such as "Penbull (sic) Wizard"...and yes I saw someone who wrote that on their sign...I have no clue why) or simply hum an inspirational tune like "Baby Got Back" as they walk past your car. Either way, it has inspired me to write some song about the music that impacts my life.

Song That I For Some Reason Chose to Let People Equate me With as a Freshmen in College- Ludacris "Southern Hospitality"

I guess since I had moved up to Chicago from Louisville for school, I really wanted to embrace that I was in fact, southern, while at the same time trying to demonstrate that I was not all that southern. Confusing line to walk...yes, I wear shoes, no I am not double related to any family members, yes I am kind and hospitable like a Southern gentlemen. Anywho, anytime I would be partying and this song would come on, I would undoubtedly begin "throwing my bows" about as the song instructed and acting like the song was being played solely for me since I was from the south, and not because the song was popular at the time. I would even at times imagine people were yelling my name at the time, and they may have been, but it was probably more out of fear of my flying elbows.

Song I Can Karaoke no Matter How Much I Have Had to Drink- Bobby Darin "Mack the Knife"

Alright, so if I have had a lot lot to drink, you might notice I sing a tad slower or it takes me a moment longer to get on beat with the words, but still, it is a very passable version of the song that I perform. Once, on a Wednesday night at Doc's I think I even heard clapping coming from someone who I did not know and who was not a drunken old man. That said, I was on top of the world and had drunken thoughts about releasing an album that night, but after speaking to a homeless man decided I should stay in school (I had forgotten I was out of school at that point, and his argument was so convincing, I agreed with it). But, I'm just saying, have a karaoke machine with this song on it, and I will belt it out for you.

Song That for Some Reason Makes me able to Finish Games of Beer Pong- Lil Flip "Game Over"

My personal beer pong abilities have often been maligned and many have said that I often succeeded merely by playing with Trevor (how we doubled up so many times with me being so supposedly awful I will never know). It is true, I had my share of yips, games where I would throw the ball three feet to the left of the table, and games where the main skill I brought was taunting. But for some reason, when the game would come down to one or two cups left, I could turn on this Lil Flip ballad and suddenly make a cup, at the point when the drunkenness and dwindling number of cups makes this game that much more difficult. It was weird. Scientists will later find that the sound waves in this song encourage tiny ping pong balls to go into cups. I will feel stupid.

Other Songs I Can Sing- "Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole and "A Whole New World" by ummmm Aladdin and Jasmin

Just sayin. I can belt out these mofos too. Who knows why.

Of course there are many other songs which have had an impact on my life and which I have tiny stories about, but those tales will have to wait until I too have my own roadside real estate and fine piece of blank cardboard.

Due to my fine time in LA, I have become intensely introspective and I have decided there are a few things that just do not work as well when sitting around by myself:

1)Discussions

They end quickly and I generally avoid arguing with myself. I am always right, which only boosts up my already (according to some girl at a bar the other day) "too high ego" . Yes, I really was told my ego was too high, just for saying hello to a girl at a bar and smiling at her. I had done nothing to demonstrate a "big ego". Weirdo. But anyways, discussions lose that whole extremely underrated second dimension when you are talking to yourself.

2) Witty Barbs

It is really tough to wittily mock those not present based on nothing. Which I think makes it even worse when I am actually around people, like at work, or when hanging out with those I hang out with out here. Which probably makes me seem about as funny as Carrot Top. (Okay still probably funnier than him, but way too focused on the witty barb).

3) Saying the exact same thing a sportscaster will say before they say it

I still do this a lot when alone, but I am far less impressed by my own mad $kill$ since I know what I'm working with. I in fact impressed a man at a local sports bar who was sitting next to me watching the Cubs/Mets game with my ability to precede the talented Joe Morgan in saying the same things he would say. Depending on the color guy, this takes adjustments to the intellect involved (eg Tim McCarver says only dumb shit. John Madden makes it obvious. Bob Brenly seems intent on pointing out that he is dressed weather appropriate that day (("I'm wearing my WGN polo today" or "We've got on the long sleeved polo today")) and the ever brilliant Ron Santo...well, no one can keep up with him) to match up to what they are going to say. But I can do it.

HOLLA

Ahhh... the whimsy of Hollywood

2007-08-18T18:07:00.000-07:00

The creative license given to the writers and directors of motion picture is definitely one of the most giving in all of the creative realm that deals somewhat in reality. I'm not talkin Lord of the Rings type stuff which has no basis in reality, or any other sci fi film or anything with a loose idea of reality...I'm talking films with normal people in "normal" situations. For instance I woke up this morning and on my TV a quaint little film roped me in (or I could not find the remote within the reach of my arm and withouot me moving), John Tucker Must Die. Alright, so only Trevor would actually ever watch this movie on purpose, but the basic premise is all these girls feel used by this John Tucker guy and use another girl to try and hurt him...so normal people, semi normal crap going on, and of course the movie ends in a cake fight. I have been around 24 plus years and yet has any situation in my life led to a whimsical cake fight with beautiful women who I once wooed. And as the viewer, we totally accept this as an ending to a movie., especially since we (or at the very least I) do not love ultra snarky realism like that seen in Sideways. So, cake fight, four beautiful women?

The other night I was walking through a parking lot, probably 45 feet behind a car which was desiring to reverse out of its spot and leave. It did eventually back up, then drove behind me, but about 20 feet to my right until the driver of the car determined I was not going to a) suddenly dart 20 feet to my right, and get hit by their car and b)develop Michael Johnson c.1996 speed to do so so that they would have no time to react. First of all, cars are not sneaky. Secondly, I was aware that the car was there and left more than adequate space for it to drive right past me. I can only imagine the conversation going on in the car between husband and wife driver and passenger:

WIFE: Watch out for that very attractive younger man.
HUSBAND: I know honey, man he is good looking. But ever since we got that work done at the body shop to make our Nissan Sentra stealth, I always just wait for pedestrians to be out of sight and safe less I hit them or they develop Michael Johnson c.1996 speed and dart out in front of me such that I cannot control the car in time and strike them.
WIFE: You are half the man he is anyways. You could hit him and he would unflinchingly get up, open your door and pummel you with his fists, not so much out of rage, but out of a correct reaction to the situation. Then I would go home with him.
HUSBAND: Good call, I'll slowly follow behind him for the next 100 yards so we don't hit him. You should go with him anyways.
WIFE: Not this time honey.
HUSBAND: Thanks.

At the beach today, I noted some dudes wearing flippers to swim out in the ocean and my mind, being just as whimsical as a cake fight to end a messy life situation had this hilarious thought:

What if the flipper was not the first piece of equipment early inventors made in an attempt to mimic aquatic creatures? What if it was, say, a dorsal fin? Can you imagine people strapping some sort of fin to themseleves, not in an attempt to look like a shark, but rather to try and help them swim? It would be ridiculous. Then the next invention someone tried was the moving tail. Then flippers finally came along and helped out. YAHTZEE.

As I continue toiling away at work and working on writing some sort of lengthy crap that will have up to 18 haikus within, and search for improv groups out here I can't help but think of how totally dreameriffic this current life is, which is not bad as I am totally getting it out of my system, and hopefully making the rest of my life into non work because I sit around watching you tube videos, eating celery (a negative caloric food) and writing stuff with the signature ending of a cake fight (sorry John Tucker writers, I see a gimmick I like, and I steal it), whether book, screenplay, or haiku:

The cloud floats by her
Wondering where to go now
Signature cake fight

But I also think sometimes, no matter how lame this sounds, that I would like to go back to school and get some letters after my name and learn something cool and then get a cool job. And be awesome like that. And keep writing as an active hobby, both to appease all those killed by the Winchester rifle (bizarre historical reference) and to make people laugh. And the best thing is, I know all along I can do whatever the hell I want.

CAKE FIGHT ENSUES.

"If this comedy thing doesn't work out, do you have a plan B?....Hell no...my plans are numbered"

2007-08-12T19:16:00.000-07:00

That quote is from my favorite standup comic, Demetri Martin. If you have not heard any of his stuff, google him, or look it up on youtube or something, because you might giggle, guffaw, chuckle, cackle, or make that creepy silent wheezing noise you make when you laugh (you know who you are).

I am not sure if it is an effect of me spending much more time in pensive, humorous thought, or merely the effect of my increasing delusions and insanity (which, let's face it, will only make me seem more and more wacky over time. you thought I was out there before, you should see me now! sounds like a great slogan for an looney house) But, thanks in large part to the nearly full wall of mirrors I have that make up the closet doors in my room I spend a lot of time: making lots of faces into said mirror as well as looking at my face while I say odd things in a British accent. Like I said, I hope this is not a part of some sort of sick and twisted change to my personality, a personality which has been called "okay" , "could have a few less slurs" and "I would not kill him right away if stranded on an island with him...I could wait 17-20 minutes...sort of how I feel about going to a mediocre restaurant" . But the other day I actually found myself saying some odd thing that I am not even sure what it meant about "schnoogers and bonkers" and they evidently needed to get done. Needless to say, this cracked me up. Also needless to say, I had consumed ny new three beer limit which makes me feel a little goofy. The beer makes me feel goofy as well as the amount. Screw you.

As this whole Barry Bonds "Home Run King" (which unless he finds an actual crown to wear on that shiny large dome of his, I think the title should be rescinded and returned to Hank Aaron, assuming of course he wears a crown for the rest of his life and break off and forms his own nation) has gone on recently, the thing that has bothered me most, and I am surprised no one has mentioned this since articles have been written ranging from "Should Bonds Get an Asterisk?" "Barry Bonds: Modern Home Run Hero" "Barry Bonds Likes to Eat Sandwiches" "Bonds Only Drinks Orange Gatorade" and the OJ Simpson op ed "Bonds Did It! (not the home run thing, the killing stuff)" that the main thing of all this is that Barry Bonds is not in any video games. If you are the SF Giants in any game, there is a strangely awesome, often right handed, often white, often named Jon Dowd player who patrols left field and hits 4th for them. There is little to no excitement to being Jon Dowd. Being John Malkovich in a video game would even be more exciting. So Barry, why'd you do it? Why won't you be in a video game? Your squeaky voice is familiar to children, your large head is recognized worldwide, and you are evidently the leader of some sort of monarchy now. I say, be a king to your people and appear in some video games. What would Queen Victoria have done Barry? (I only say Queen Victoria because Barry has the most in common with her: high pitched voice...well, mainly that)

On early Thursday morning, at around 1am, I was awakened by my roommate Jessica, pounding on my door and screaming something about an earthquake. It was at this point that I realized, that in FACT everything WAS shaking in the room, not just the door. Initially though, the first thought in my mind was that Jessica, who had played some sort of musical gig earlier in the evening, was partying with a bunch of people and thought I should join in....but alas no, there was an earthquake. It was odd once I realized that was what it was...and it was pretty wild. No one else anywhere seemed to have any reaction as it was "ONLY a 4.2"...well sorry, I just wanted to jump under a desk and cover my neck, and then potentially get down with a little rioting...and maybe pee down the garbage chute in my building..but alas I will evidently have to wait for some larger earthquake, at which point actual calamity will ensue and I might have to try and stay alive rather than have fun with this. Damnit.

That is all, minions. (Click on those ads...I'll buy you something)

PS David Beckham is a bitch

TIM'S RULES of LIFE I-XVII

2007-08-02T21:58:00.000-07:00

First of all, before I begin the tutelage of how to live life the Tim way (also known as "correct"), and before those rules get turned into a mediocre comedy on ABC (or any TV station really...even that one that shows the Tour de France intermingled with men wrestling bears intermingled with men then showing how to make a fine jerky out of said bears) starring the great John Ratzenberger as the Tim character, I want to say...yes. I have gone commercial (this is only for my readers at tradwayone.blogspot.com...for those of you not there, go there and check it out). I saw something from Google offering me money in exchange for one of those annoying banner ads at the top of my page. And evidently if lots of people click on it, and I send them a vial of blood and some toenails as well as copies of the original Spiderman comic book, they will send me a check. (Pops collar) So yeah, click away...then I will send you spam e-mails to share my ten's of dollars.

Now...here are rules 1-17. Take Notes, or even better, visit frequently and click on the banner ads. In fact, do not take notes, just visit frequently and click on the banner ads.

RULE #1

AT LEAST ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, GO TO A PARTY WHERE YOU KNOW NO ONE
Up until a few months ago, I had only done this on very small scales; college dorm rooms, tea parties my little sister had arranged with new dolls I had never seen, having party with pants, etc. But then, in May, as the White Sox were playing the Cubs at Wrigley Field, Paul began telling me about this party that "someone he worked with" was having at their place right next to Wrigley. So, excited as could be, we headed down there that morning, only for a few beers later for Paul to tell me that he actually did NOT know the person from work, but rather some random girl had invited him on myspace or something, and AT THAT, he could not even identify which one it was. So, at first, I was a tad freaked out, but then a few short hours later (a few short hours at The Cubby Bear) we were at the party, giving nicknames to everyone, and generally having a great time. And everyone knew who we were, even if I only knew them as "Jimmy Bottles" and "Crazy Ninja Guy". So try this out.

RULE #2
OWN SOME QUIRKY POSSESSIONS
Own some stuff that, even if you are what you are at face value, it will make people stop and think about you. Some examples for me, even though I am obviously not a face value kind of guy are: My frog coconut bank, my tiny painted wooden fish, my weird paper clip elephant thing, my blanket from my youth....and recently RIP, my pencil lamp (it did not make the trip so well).

RULE #3
IF YOU ARE A MAN, BE DRAWN TO PRODUCTS THAT INCLUDE "BUFFALO" ON THEIR LABEL
Lord knows I am. I could see a new brand of Kleenex or Air Freshener that boasts a Zesty Autumn scent....OF BUFFALO WINGS. I would buy 7. I always try and keep some bold buffalo products on hand should I suddenly be watching sports and be thrust into entertaining (read:microwaving). And subconsciously, I think the great people who make products know this, that any man at the grocery store will try and zest up his cart of Zest, toilet paper, and steak with some buffalo products.

RULE #4
FALL INTO A BUSH
It's as simple as it sounds. Find a bush large enough to fall into, but watch out for thorns and other whatnot, then fall into it, either backwards, forwards or through. This was always one of my big comedy standbys back in my days at Manual, in the bushes right in front of school, but that was in my slapstick heyday. But, as recently as the Derby party at my house this year, I fell into a bush in my front yard, leading to this conversation between myself and my Dad the next day:

DAD: "Tim, did you have to fall into the bush? I mean....look at it."
TIM: (puts hand on Dad's shoulder) "Sometimes you just gotta fall into a bush. Let the moment pass, and it is gone forever. (stares off into distance, as Dad looks wistfully at the bush)

RULE #5
FAKE ICE SKATE, WITHOUT THE ICE OR THE SKATES (well worn flip fops work best)
This is pretty self-explanatory. I always find grocery stores to be the best place. Put your hands behind you, lean forward, glide along...and throw in a triple axle double toe loop here and there in case Scott Hamilton is in the produce area watching.

RULE#6
HAVE A PERSONAL LEBOWSKI FEST
There is an actual Lebowski Fest, which just so happens to have started in Louisville, but I am talking about a much smaller scale one. I have tried a couple times to have a Lebowksi Fest night, but can't quite figure out the order. I know what needs to be involved: Bowling, a screening of The Big Lebowski, and glorious mass consumption of White Russians. I think I always do one of those first that prevents me from getting all three done. And it's not the bowling.

RULE #7
AVOID ETHNIC RESTAURANTS RUN BY DIFFERENT ETHNICITIES THEN THAT OF THE RESTAURANT
Not to be prejudiced in any way, shape, or form, but I do not wish to eat Italian food made by first generation Korean people. I love you, Korean people, please make me some Korean food and I will find some Italians to cook me up some fine pasta. This probably sounds awful, but that's just the way I think. Greek restaurant run by Australians, I do not want to eat there....go to Outback and cook me some food, mate.

RULE #8
TELL A RIDICULOUS STORY WITH ALL THE CONVICTION THAT IT IS TRUE. DO NOT CRACK AT ALL. BELIEVE THE STORY.
Last summer, Brian broke his ankle. Of course he had his pity party, but to cash in on it, I believe I once told this tale when with Brian:
"See my friend over there, the one with the broken leg? Well, let me tell you how he got it. So, one day we're walkin down the street and we see this place, The St.Margaret Home of Senior Citizens/Puppies, and it is on fire. So we're runnin in and out, saving the elderly and gently nestling puppies in our pockets, and Brian tripped and stumbled and found a third wing of the building, the baby wing. So, we got them all out, but it tunrs out Brian had a pretty bad fracture....Oh, no no no no, buy him a drink...I'm no hero, I just do what any guy woulda done".

I also once told people I ran a nail salon. Separately I told people I was an ornithologist.

RULE #9
OWN A DOG, LET IT LAY ON YOUR LAP
This is just one of the more fulfilling things in life to have a puppy curl up and take a nap on you. First, it shows that you have done a good job with that new bacon scent you created. Secondly, it shows that on small scales your roofies work. Or neither. It just means the dog knows you and is tired.

RULE #10
LAUGH WHENEVER YOU CAN, AT THE BIG AND SMALL
There are many times in life when it is obvious to laugh; your boss is trying to clean their computer monitor and points the Windex the wrong way and sprays it in their face and open mouth. But there are other times when people might get weirded out or freaked out, when I just laugh. For instance, just yesterday I saw a homeless man sitting in a small grassy area eating a jar of salsa. No chips, no dipping device, just pouring salsa in his mouth. I smiled for a solid five minutes after I was done laughing. I'd like to think it helps out my demeanor.

RULE #11
EAT SANDWICHES AND PIZZA, THE TWO FOODS WITH THE BIGGEST VARIETY I KNOW
Both the sandwich and pizza are like a math teacher who teaches those permutation things dream. How many different combos are there? For one, you can put pretty much anything you want on either. You want to replace sauce on your pizza with hummus? Go for it. You want a slice of banana on your sandwich? None for me, thanks, but go for it. For anyone who names something other than these two outside their favorite foods, way to narrow down your life. Unless you are boldy trying combos of basmati rice and Jelly Belly jelly beans. Then, ummm, keep up with that, and best of luck to you.

RULE#12
NOT THAT I ADVOCATE DRINKING AND DRUGS, BUT I GUESS I AM
Last year after the, you know, surgery, I had a nifty supply of Darvocet, which for a while was used in its intended purpose as a painkiller. But then I was feeling better and still had some pills left, and still had money to buy endless amounts of whiskey left. So, I ended up combining the two...on some sort of whim. And I will always semi recall the one night when Trevor, Logan, and I all were enjoying this combo, which evidently makes you feel extremely happy (and my feet warm) and Jay was also there, yet only drinking. Something set the three of us ne'er do wells on something that made us giggle, and made us do so for quite a while, and at the same time Jay sat there totally perplexed as to what was funny.

RULE #13
WATCH THE CLARKANDMICHAEL.COM WEBISODES AND READ JASONMULGREW.COM
Clark and Michael are two funny guys and their online show is hilarious. Jason Mulgrew is an enemy blogger, but I must admit he makes me laugh and I love reading his stuff before I start writing. So, hopefully someone will google either of their names, end up on my site, click on my ads billions of times, make it to their sites, and also be a network exec. Stranger things have happened.

RULE #14
PERFORM DARRIN'S DANCE GROOVES WITH FRIENDS
I have only done this once, but it was funny enough to recommend to everyone to do it. It was hilarious, people turning this way and that, confused, unable to keep up with Darrin's teaching style ("Okay, we are going to slowly turn to the left, and then BAM BAM ((during the bams he would do some sort of crazy robot dance and dislocate his pelvis)) then we are here." DVD's were not equipped with slow enough motion to help random men dance.

RULE $15
HAVE A HEATED DEBATE, PREFERABLY ENDING IN A FISTICUFFS OR HOMICIDE, ABOUT WHICH WILLY WONKA CHARACTER YOU WOULD BE
I haven't done this yet, but I just want some people to try. I'd be Slugworth. Eat it bitches.

RULE #16
WATCH OLD SNL CLIPS ONLINE
Sometimes even when they weren't that funny when you saw them on TV originally (let's face it, you were pissed off that you were at home on a Saturday night, sitting in a dorm room with your girlfriend while she studied for a test on Tuesday((who even needs to study that long, much less at all?)) so you were not in the right frame of mind to appreciate the subtle nuances of the skits, instead just thinking about how silly it is that to prove you are "there" for someone you have to sit with them while THEY study) they can be pretty damn funny the second time around.

RULE#17
JUST LIVE. DON'T JUST EXIST. BUT JUST LIVE. DO CRAZY STUFF, AND DON'T BE TOO MARRIED TO ANYTHING (UNLESS YOU ARE ACTUALLY MARRIED, THEN BE EXTREMELY MARRIED TO YOUR SPOUSE)
It just really angers me sometimes when people miss out on stuff because of work, then when they do come out, they grouse about the same job. Or the same thing with a girlfriend. Or a plant they care for a lot. Get out and do shit, and meet people, and find out about you, and your area and all that whatnot.

KONICHIWA

Vegas, Thank Citibank( and I should too)

2007-07-30T21:30:00.000-07:00

Well, it seems yet another year has gone by and with that comes another trip to Vegas, another chance to look back and say, "Wow that was ridiculous," "Where are my pants?" "Whose pants are these?" (no literally, I seem to have packed someone's pants in my bag, although Paul described my packing style as "goblinlike" upon leaving, so I guess it is not a complete shock I ended up with someone's else's crap in my bag). So, with another Vegas trip comes another semi-half-demi-quasi awful recap of the events.

First some admissions on my part:

1)I was drunking most of the time. Drunking you see, is like drinking, except without all those pretenses of later on saying "Wow! How did I get so drunk?" When drunking, you know what's coming to you. And, as I remarked to Paul and Darrell on our epic journey right after my arrival (more on that later), "It's like I want to experience Vegas all at once...I want to be drunk, I want to be gambling, I want to inappropriately dine only on snack wraps...." Then I took in a real deep breath and choked on some gas fumes.

2) Everyone else was drunking too. So, the recounted stories were about as good as the ones you hear in the short term memory loss ward about what happened a few minutes ago. (Zing. Oh yes, zing)

3) Vegas ruins all sense of time. There are always people up and about, always people having fun, and even more strangely I am convinced both by the new skin tone I have and by seeing it at all times, the sun is literally always up.

So, I arrived in Vegas on Thursday evening after one of my more brilliant and lucky acting performances in a while. I had decided before work on Thursday that I would feign sickness early on in the day in an attempt to get sent home early. Also, in prep for calling in sick on Friday, I had done pretty much all of my Friday work, so I was not that bad of an employee. Anyways, upon arrival on Thursday, my boss asks me how I am doing and I reply, "Oh, not so hot...." and she tells me she too has an awful headache...which I then retort, "Oh, me too...it's like there's a vice on my head..." So, throughout the morning, I act lackadaisical, and eventually around one, get sent home. So, I rush home, grab my stuff, jump in my car (which in prep for the suite we had this year, and due to me driving, I had stocked with 96 beers and 4 handles of liquor), and speed off to Vegas.

I arrived, pulled into the parking garage of the MGM and, using the defective part of my brain, which I am sure would have made me an awful caveman, pulled into the furthest parking spot away. Seriously, the thing went up to Row Q, and I parkedin Row Q, applying zero effort to park any closer. I have noticed this other times too, like when going to a store or movie, I leave whatever venue I was in, and realize I have parked really far away. So, I call Brian's phone, which is answered by Darrell, find out where the room is and grab the box of liquor and begin the trek. And yes, it was a trek. Also, everyone staring at my box of liquor all must have been Vegas first timers....come on people, you do some drinking there no matter who you are.

I finally made it up to the room and it was everything I imagined it would be...well, pretty much like you would think a suite would be...two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large living room area, a bar, and even a decorative artifact and some fake plants. Once in the room I saw D, Brian and Paul were awakening from naps and Danny was there too. I enlisted Darrell and Paul to come with me to my car for the 96 beers. And thus it was an epic journey. The about Row Q was it did not seem so bad walking towards it, especially empty handed, but the seemingly half marathon journey back with pounds of beer in coolers was not as fun. I guess I should have thought about it.

Back in the room, everyone else began to roll in, and the drinking began....and before the 12 of us went out that night all 96 beers were gone and a good deal of the liquor gone too. It was like whoa. Or something. Then our large gentlemenly crew headed down to Studio 54, the club in the MGM. And by gentlemenly, I mean we kindly would approach any group of women and say something extremely friendly. It was like watching National Geographic specials at times, but sometimes I was not sure if it was more one of the mating specials or one of the hunting ones, or one of the weird ones about insects.

Personally, I stayed in Studio 54 for about 45 minutes as the whole club scene only works so much for me, and plus when I notice that during my attempts at "dancing" if I am either falling over or pulling someone over with me, it might be time to stop the dancing, and the guys that just stand around at these places not dancing are actually a tad creepy. So I made the incredibly wise decision to go gamble. (and I know many are thinking...NO...you were so drunk you doubted your standing abilities and now you want to go throw around money???) But that's just the odd thing, for some reason I am pretty okay at blackjack...probably all those days of my youth playing with Dad for pretzels...sure I never stop soon enough when I am up, but I always be able to win some money. So I throw down my $100 at the $10 a hand table and began playing. I have no real strategy except to win...and most of the time I just would play the $10 hand, but sometimes I would feel it was time and throw out some random, way too large amount, like $260...and win. It was incredible. At one point I was up $1300 on my $100....but then I kept playing and playing and losing and losing....but by the time the dealer shut down the table, I had made it back up to $500...so I got a fine $500 chip and went back up to the room. That was nice.

The next day we wake up, we all start drunking before going to the pool then eventually head down. I went to cash out my winnings and told everyone else I would meet them poolside. However, I wanted to win some more....and stopped and played a little more 21 and won $100 more...which I decided was adequate. Then, the pool. Some stuff happened, it was crazy, it was ridiculous, there was beer flowing readily, everyone who walked by was spoken too, and so much of an impact was made that by Saturday at 6am a girl saw Brian and me and said "You were at the pool," here voice dripping of disdain. We were confused, but whatever. I left the pool a little before everyone else to...yes....go gamble. Long story short, I cashed out about an hour later with $1,100 worth of chips, and walked back up to the room beaming, and once there obviously gloated about my $1,000 chip and let see it and stuff. As I had only put down $100 of my money the previous night, I was pretty happy.

This was the night that was actually dedicated to Adam's bachelor party which Brian had setup...and he did a pretty damn good job...a strech Hummer limo was to pick us up, take us to a strip club, then later take us to Rain (or Pure...I am not really sure...some one word named uber-trendy club) where we would get to walk right in, which is tough for any large group of men to do in a Vegas club.

So, in a moment of hindsight being even better than 20/20 for something I should not have done, I went and cashed in my chips before we left on this escapade. I remember being very giving at the strip club for all in the group...and then we went to Rain/Pure/Whatever, I disliked it off the bat, got lost trying to leave The Palms for about 45 minutes, and the next morning, I had $3. I do know for sure I did not go gamble, because even when drunk, you remember doing that because it requires some focus and usually takes up some large periods of time. I made it back up to the room, where security had to let Adam and me in since we did not have keycards and we had to verify some objects in the room before they let us in....here was what I said, "I have a blue adidas bag straight ahead from the door....and ....and a Christopher Walken t-shirt in it! Yeah...Christopher Walken!...." They verified and let us in.

The next morning I went to use my "temporary" ATM card Citibank had furnished me upon opening my account, but for some reason they still had not gotten me the actual one I needed, and I discovered that good old temporary card had expired. So, no big deal. I know those cash advances on credit cards are foolish, so I was done gambling. Drinking was not a problem since we had so much liquor in the room...but then everyone enjoyed a fine laugh at my expense...or some disbelief. How had I spent $1200 in one night....the best theory was that some lucky cab driver got a great tip for resuing me from the Palms. But, at the very least, I only really lost $100...and even paid Brian $200 towards the room costs...

So, Saturday was yet another day down at the pool, although on this day we spent much more time in the party pool then the lazy river. And I must say things got a little out of control. But not for me. I wwas wasted alright, but every girl there was not putting up with me. Maybe because someone got the fun idea to tell some people that I was a Make a Wish recipient and that this was my wish, or maybe the fact that I was being loud and irreverent most of the time.

We left the pool and I was...ummm...decidedly tired. I passed out on the floor, at one point woke up shivering, then later woke up in a blanket, then later woke up in a bed, until finally I was ready for the world again around 3am....and ready to go out. So, Brian, Mike, Todd, Nick, Danny and myself were wandering around just looking for anything fun in the vicinity. The most we did was talk to some girls eating McDonald's in the food court for a while...and once I had another beer I realized I was literally full of beer and done drinking, and actually pretty tired...so by 7:30 we went back up to the room and things were done. And I finally realized I had the pleasure of driving home that day. Ouch.

Obviously many more things happened, but until I get my reality TV show, no one can really be too sure about what they are. But at least too many groups won't picket against me before then.

TIM's RULES OF LIFE 1-17 COMING LATER IN THE WEEK

BYAH

You and the captain make it happen

2007-07-17T21:37:00.000-07:00

After the Cubs acquired Jason Kendall yesterday, and I read the many articles regarding this trade, and spoke to all my sports fiending friends, the general consensus was that the Cubs had made a decent upgrade from Rob "I'm Not a Real major League Baseball Player, I Just Play One on TV" Bowen and Koyie "Oh shit, my first name is Koyie and people unwittingly think I am a young catcher prospect when I am really 32" Hill, they were decidedly right. How unfortunate is it that when a team acquires a guy currently hitting .224 with no real pop left in his bat in a decidedly popless career, that there is some excitement? But, Kendall has been hitting a lot better since a dismal April, he was ranked #1 in catcher's ERA in baseball, and the National League has always been an easier league to hit in then the American. So, I am excited, especially to have a player who, in video games with old Pittsburgh Pirates teams I used to switch to #1 in the batting order.

As I continue to work on my first screenplay, I continue to, even as a person who speaks on numerous occasions everyday, struggle with writing dialogue in a more natural way. For some reason, I become like Kramer of Seinfeld fame when he is attempting to act and become decidedly unnatural and proper. None of my other writing comes out in proper English with good grammar and punctuation, yet when I shift to writing dialogue it is like my writing has had the Henry Higgins treatment. Here, look at this dialogue:

TIM: Oh no Logan! It seems we might be late for work! What are we going to do if we missed the entire meeting?

LOGAN: I am not quite sure, Tim. Maybe we can try using a different entrance entirely to the building!

This dialogue would work great if I were writing a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book, which I think were secretly written to force grammatical correctness and quick changing life dynamics on children (as well as the effects of consequences...how I always ended up getting caught by the police in the neighbor's basement no matter what Choose Your Own Adventure I ever read, I will never know). But I am trying to write one of those movies that on the surface sucks, is not critically acclaimed, but people love to watch and own, and eventually drinking games are invented to correspond with it. So, when I get out of the writing zone and have to go back and edit all the dialogue because it has a lame factor of approximately 12 on a 10 point scale, the process is quite arduous. I guess I should try speaking it out loud before I write it instead of afterwards.

This past weekend I took a rapid trip to Chicago to surprise some of my homies and to see as many as I could. It was a great time and I have already realized that Chicago and all its boasting about being such a great place is not really that far off. (It also might have something to do with the great number of friends I have there, but hey, many are FROM there....) That being said, I have begun more and more to think of this LA experience as just that, a grand experience, sort of like a study abroad trip within the country, where I am going to try and do as much as I can and accomplish what I feel like I need to accomplish, but at the end of the day being close to a multitude of friends and a quick drive away from my family might seem like a better place to be. And I know what you are thinking: "Isn't this some sort of harshly formed opinion when you have not even been in LA tha long?" "Have you been poisoned?" "Why was Ghostbusters 3 not as celebrated of a Nintendo game?"

-I am a man constantly engaged in thought about many things and there are not too many times I just chill out and stop thinking, and I think that this experience will be great and lend me many new perspectives, but at the same time this is not a crazily formed idea. But, I'm gonna ride it out and see what happens. Just like I don't want to choose at this moment what I do for my 30th birthday, that would not even make sense (as I am only 24).

-Nope, no poison that I know of.

-The world had already moved on to Super Nintendo and Sega and therefore even though Ghostbusters 3 really could have taken off on the Nintendo as it had so much more then its predecessor Ghostbuster Nintendo games, Sonic and NBA Jam had taken over in a significant way. (And no, I have no idea if there even was a video game for Ghostbusters 3, I'm just saying)

Leave some comments, and I'll leave you some comments, and then you can leave me some more, and then next thing you know we are married with a third child on the way. It's science.

Live every week like it's shark week

2007-07-08T16:49:00.000-07:00

As Tracy Jordan of 30 Rock tells Kenneth the page, "Live every week like it's shark week." For those of you not familiar with shrak week, which I assume is no one, I will let you in on what shark week is: a week long worth of prime time programming on the Discovery channel devoted entirely to sharks. So, if you are into sharks, shark week is a big deal, I guess, and you live life all exictedly or something. My sister Eileen was really always the shark-o-matic lady in the fam, so I never really got fired up about them but still sometimes spout off her wisdom like, "Oh no, this water is far too cold for sharks." (Note: If you ever hear me say this, I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT. We might be about to venture into Tiger Shark infested waters in the Indian Ocean and I would say this to ease your mind. I always just looked at the pictures of sharks in her books, never really paid attention to the facts.)

As nbc.com offers pretty much all of their shows for viewing on your at home or local library terminal computer, they also have recognized the need for advertising during these programs. The thing is, it seems that the advertising techinique employed is that of brainwashing. Each 30 Rock episode, for instance, is split into 3 or 4 parts, and before each part loads, the same ad will air for that episode. By the 4th time I see the exact same Cingular commercial within a 20 minute period, I do feel semi-brainwashed and think to myself, "Man, Cingular really HAS been raising the bar." A few seconds later I find myself in a trance like state looking at Cingular cell phone plans, before I snap back to Earth and realize why I am with t-mobile, and it has very little to do with the 2 year contract extension I just got to get a phone for cheap (after losing my other one in a puddle while I was "napping" in my backyard), and much more to do with the fact that all contractholders get to, ya know, do as they please with company spokeswoman Catherine Zeta Jones (and it does take a moment to get over the whole Michael Douglas thing, this is true, but then you remember your cell phone bill and the lovely lady in front of you). All I can say is thank goodness nbc.com does not play cult propoganda during their shows.

After the freshly completed third week of work at my new job, I have decided, I am simply do not enjoy working. While some people might counter, "Tim, you need to find something you like," or "Tim, you have always been a good worker," or even, "Tim, eating raw bacon is not a good call." I hear you. But, I really would much rather be unemployed. And it is not a matter of motivation or a hatred of working, I really do not mind doing so, I would just rather not be doing it and instead sit around working on "screenplays" (reading Far Side cartoons). So, here are some Pro's and Con's of unemployment"

Pro:
Seldom set an alarm clock to wake up in the morning.

Con:
Lose sense of time on a day-to-day basis.

Pro:
Basketball shorts and a sleeveless shirt are acceptable attire.

Con:
Basketball shorts and a sleeveless shirt are acceptable attire. (I don't see many non basketball players wearing these clothes and getting a lot accomplished)

Pro:
Everyday, your own agenda.

Con:
No regular paycheck. Suddenly that daily agenda is a lot more limited.

So, as you can see, there are the plusses and negatives, and I only hope to either a) steal all of the gold from Scrooge Mc Duck's room of gold or b)marry a really rich older woman on the threshold of death. Or I guess invent Jell-O or something. Although I guess since I wrote that sentence that someone beat me to the punch with that invention.

Oh well, it is what it is. The first screenplay is finally in progress. That being said, if I could focus more of my time to this writing craft, and until I get better at it, living in California works just about as well as living in Chicago, Canada, or Madagascar...it's all about devoting the time. (just kidding about that Canada part...that would suck balls). I am glad I have come to that realization, and maybe if I can have some discipline, I can move somewhere cheaper and with less consistent weather (really this day after day sameness is freaking me out).

HOLLA

Even the milk turns chocolatey.....fuck yeah

2007-07-05T21:26:00.000-07:00

As I spend another delightful night sitting around doing such fun activities as: eating baby carrots, watching episodes of 30 Rock, reading every word on espn.com, researching Peru while on the phone with Melissa (don't ask), trying to make my back forget I have been sleeping on couches for the last month, drinking water, pondering life in the Arctic circle, and researching how hair grafts work, I constantly have to remind myself of my mantra. "You chose this life. You chose this life. You chose this life. You chose this life." And even I must admit after the sixth time of saying it or so, it makes me laugh, because hey, when you repeat any word or phrase it just starts to sound like made up. E.T. style alient talk.

I have been doing some writing, and reading about writing, and watching youtube videos about writing, and learning Braille so that I can feel about writing, and listening to written works as read by former Cheers castmembers (if you get a chance, pick up The Stand as read by George Wendt((you know him as Norm!)) so that I can try and find my muse so that I might too write something other than a blog read by somewhere in the ballpark of 12.7 people (Actually I have no science to apply to knowing how many) and wonder why no one has offered me some cash up front to write a pilot or something. Then I figured it out: while I am in fact, pretty goddamned funny, I need a lot of people based humor...witty, sarcastic verbal barbs tossed into conversation, jabs about other people that are around, commentary on commentaries...that kind of stuff. That being said, I am not saying the fountain has run dry and I have nothing to write about. The fountain is actually needing of a larger bucket and some sort of disinfectant for the ladle everyone uses to get the water out of said bucket, since I have 24 years of life experiences and characters.

Today at work, for the first time ever in my life, I had a thought of a joke that could be used in some sort of standup act. And, since I do not foresee a standup act ever being my sort of thing, I thought I could go ahead and share my "bit" with you:

(while dressed semi-normal, yet with something ridiculous on, like some denim chaps)
"You know one of the things I always most looked forward to about being a standup? Dressing like a hobo who lived near an outlet mall that discarded haute fashions....You know what I'm talking about...remember that multi-colored number Sinbad always used to wear? And heaven forbid you get a special on HBO...think Chris Rock....ultra-shiny suit. When is ANY...and I mean ANY other occasion when you would glance in your closet and say, 'Man, I should totally pull out those denim chaps.'.......(points down) Ooooohhh yeahhhhh. I guess everyone says this (points down again, disgustedly) is how stadups seperate themselves. Grand. A guy with crappy jokes and a feather boa hookup is going to take over."

Reading it, pretty okay. But that is why I am not forcing my hand and trying out standup. Especially with a one lame joke routine.

Alright, I will bless everyone in the next couple days with some actual humor.

"Great Mint Taste" (Check)

2007-06-30T09:06:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder about these brilliant large corporations and their packaging genius. Logically, I have an example. (Although it would be funnier if I wrote a blog with a bunch of broad open-ended statements that offered no explanation, citations, or anything related to the thought.) I was looking at a tube of Colgate toothpaste and there was a checkbox on the back next to the extremely fucking excited words "GREAT MINT TASTE!", and the box was checked. Why a checkbox? Would they want to admit the mint taste was less then stellar and leave this box unchecked? I just do not understand this one.

Some other examples of packaging I do not understand:

1)The current "no trans fat" rage. I don't even know what the fuck a trans fat is. But I know when I see it on things like potato chips and wheels of cheese, and see it on a KFC commercial, I do not suddenly think "Wow, self, this food must be fuckin HEALTHY now. This will be all I eat. That and toothpaste, but as long as the mint box is checked."

2) Unrelated foods with recipes on them for something else. The other day I bought a loaf of bread, obviously for the bread purposes (sandwiches, toast, sexual deviancy, etc.) but did not even realize until I got home that I also had grilling recipes for various types of chicken, and an APPLE PIE RECIPE!!! Did either of these mention use of the bread? Of course not. The kind bread benefactors just wanted to make sure I enjoy chicken and apple pie.

3)Laundry detergents talking about their "BOLD NEW MOUNTAIN FRESH AROMA!" What the fuck does that mean? Am I going to smell like I live at the timber line in the Rockies? Or will my shit just smell clean? Brawny paper towel man or not homeless? As long as my clean clothes do not smell somewhere in between Pine-Sol and death that works for me.

So in this last week of homelessness, I have been living with new friends Zed (yeah, that's right...the letter Z in French....a pretty badass name if you ask me. I personally think while his endeavors into the philosophical world are to be admired, he could totally be a spy...or a ninja or something) and Meredith in their Venice bungalow. It is a sweet little place, complete with a tiny little garden area, some rooms and whatnot, and canadian people across the way. Unfortunately, they are moving out and already promised the place to someone else, but if not it would have been the nest home search ever to just move in here....hell, they are even selling the moajority of their furniture. But the fact that I have been staying here just totally holds the power of networking in perfect place. Follow this diagram if you might:

TIM--->DEREK (roommate at 742 met on craigslist)--->ELIOT(Derek's friend)----->ZED+MEREDITH(Eliot's Homes)---->JESSICA (new roommate, friend of Meredith)

So, just by creepily finding a roommate for 742 on craigslist, I fell into my new housing situation, made some friends and learned how to make chicken from a loaf of bread.

On the movie/TV/haiku writing front, I am pregnant with ideas. But unlike writing this crap, I am not really sure that you just sit down for a few minutes let your mind vomit onto the screen, don't edit, spell check, or do anything else and let it be done. You have to follow a story, develop characters, avoid actual vomit on the computer (from all the drinking you do to be creative), and steer clear of ethnic slurs for an entire script. Tough burdens, right? I will let you in on my first attempt at a movie script:

THE AWAKENING

(camera pans out ((is that where it like pulls out?)) on two ((or three? would three be better?)) skeletons fighting over a bucket of chicken and a slim jim)

That was it. Then I tired of the creative process. Or I was not writing a movie about skeletons fighting over chicken or slim jims. I don't foresee myself getting into the horror genre, seeing as every scary movie (including spoofs Scary Movie 1,2, and 3) that I have seen in the last 24 years has made me pee in my pants. Once I just had to go to the bathroom more than I knew at the time, but the other times I had urine frightened out of me. I guess I will just have to stick to what I know when I am writing: sportscenter cliches, the movie Blue Streak, and slang terms for sex acts. (Blue Streak II totally needs to be written. I know the greatest film ever needs a sequel)

BYAH!

Sometimes, you just need some cheese

2007-06-23T13:57:00.000-07:00

Last week, I had just finished a rough Saturday of...well...okay it was not so rough, I had just laid on the beach all day. But, I decided I needed to deviate from my homeless diet of PB&J and I stopped at a local Santa Monica eatery called Norm's. Norm's motto, you might ask: "We are just like Denny's, but called Norm's. Fuck You". (If I own a company, I will also include curse words and other vulgarities in the motto) So I glanced at the voluminous menu (four pages of delicious and gastrointestinal problems waiting to happen) and my decisions of what to order may have caused the waitress who took my order to believe that I knew some secret about cheese, possibly even it's abilities to increase one's life expectancy. Because I knew all along when I went in that I was really feeling a grilled cheese, so I ordered one of those. Then I saw one of my faves on the menu, Mozzarella Cheese Sticks, so I ordered some of those. Let me just say, it may have been a tad much on the cheese front. But hey, sometimes you just need some cheese. And no, I was not successful in eating all the food, much to the happiness of the homeless man sitting uncomfortably close to my left.

As I write this, I have continued my apartment search. After another disappointing turndown from a place with roommates already there, I decided I had tired of the Bachelor type selection, and could no longer wait to see if I had been given a rose that week, plus unlike the other potential roommates, I will not "give it up" just to get a room (and by "it" I mean $200 extra dollars) It took too long, it is far too difficult to meet people for seven minute periods at a time and come across as not a tad overbearing in an effort to convey your personality while at the same time seeming chill, and not to mention everyone seems to want to take two weeks to pick someone. Which, much to my chagrin, the overbearingness seems to be a problem for me when I try and show my personality right off the bat. What can I say? (probably less ethnic slurs...Tim...you idiot) So, no more rose ceremonies for me. I have set out on a search for an ideal one bedroom, which even at a greater cost, will be far better then dealing with this not-so-scrumtrilecent roommate situation.

After my two fun (stress-filled, annoying, stupid, lame, wack, silly, more ridiculous than France in a war) weeks of unemployment, I returned to the work force this week. I am working at a business management firm in Brentwood. Business management evidently means that I pay bills for people, and do pretty much anything else they want me to do. The girl I am training with whose job I will be taking (her name is Gila, and I asked her if it was like that monster, and I believe this perturbed her) has really been doing all the work, but I am getting a hang of things and occasionally being helpful. I am just waiting for the extremely bizzare client phone calls beyond activating DirecTV boxes, like when I will be asked to remove a dead body, kill someone, or walk a dog. I would only do two of those for work, because I think walking a dog is like a whole seperate job and totally not in the job description.

I just finished reading the book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell by self proclaimed dickhead Tucker Max. I had heard of this book as he had been on the NY Times best seller list a couple years back and the other day (after I had gone to a sports bar by myself, for, of all reasons, to watch golf, and gotten pretty drunk) picked it up at Borders during my drunken mid Sunday (I also got a Sublime CD, a Bill Cosby CD, a Newsweek about societies in America and a book on screenplay writing) and proceeded to read it. First of all, this guy has one of the worst writing styles I have ever read, which I fault mainly on the fact that he is educated in the matters of law. Secondly, he thinks he is the most ridiculous person to ever live, and while I appreciate his tales and may have even given a tip of my cap to some, I refuse to do anything to the ground he has walked on. Thirdly, all the quotes from days and nights of extreme drunkenness are stupid, even if he did have a tape recorder. Sure, from time to time there might be a particular quote recalled from a drinking night ("Do it to it."), but entire conversations? I am lucky if I even remember speaking and generally have to piece my night together by looking at random texts I sent. So basically, this Tucker Max guy somehow caught on, but I am nonplussed. Nonplussed.

Until next time.

I’m Looking The Most Jewish I Have Ever Looked

2007-06-15T22:08:00.000-07:00

So, one week is on the books of this “Cal-eye-forn-eye-a” grand experiment. And unlike when I last wrote about how I had a “job”, I now actually have a job. Like, a real one, where you show up for 40 hours a week and are appropriately compensated for doing so. Not one where you show up on occasion, work for a smelly lady who makes shitty, healthy, cookies (oxymoron anyone?) and then are promptly terminated for not looking at an entertainment center. But, I am still watching myself, like a angry vigilante watches over whomever he might be busy vigilante-izing, to assure I avoid being a total flake, which was thankfully pointed out for me by a smelly organic cookie woman (why does roughly 78% of my life sound fictional? Is character development really just a matter of getting these people on paper accurately?).

Some observations thus far:

z) According to two separate receptionists, I must be Jewish. I can only assume that they were Jewish themselves and inquiring to make sure they were keeping it in the faith. Because aside from the cheerios which are now beginning to abundantly sprout atop my head, I don’t think I have any other typical stereotypical Jewish appearance or mannerisms (normal sized nose, I did nothing stingy, I gratuitously ate pork products in their presence while mixing dairy and meat, etc.)(I’m just playing friends). I had to let them down softly and inform them that I was in fact part of a cult that worships the Kool-Aid man.

7) Some of these L.A. people are fruity as they come. There is no way around it. They are like a freshly stocked produce department at Whole Foods.
LMCXVIII) Having the beach nearby is about as awesome as finding two rare albino pandas getting it on your backyard, you know, since they are all endangered and never want to make babies, and the albino thing would make them even rarer. Which means cash money. Don’t mind the fact that they are bears, just get them some more bamboo, scented candles, and get the fuck out of the way, you inglorious prick.

11011100) Wearing the t-shirt I am currently wearing, which features a picture of Christopher Walken atop skull and crossbones and says “Fear the Walken”, may in fact be the best single way to meet people. I went down to the promenade in Santa Monica this evening and no less 15 people commented on either my shirt, Christopher Walken himself, some combo thereof, or the political consequences of having a lady president. It only could have been better if the Walken man himself would have seen me. Now that would have been a tale. Because I do not really fear him, so much as think he is awesome.

405) The 405 freeway should be eradicated, or merely recognized for what it is, which is the world’s first North/South parking lot. Also, people make fun of you for calling those roads of fast travel “expressways”. They also make fun of you for not doing yoga, getting massages, or eating organically. Then I in turn make fun of them for some general fact about their appearance (like their hunchback..alright so I have yet to ever get made fun of by someone with a hunchback, but if I do…look out hunchbacky), or their deaf cousin. When they say they don’t have a deaf cousin, I usually resort to a tale about myself and the person’s Mother. That’ll show them to make fun of me.

iii) Everyone here seems to be in the “business”. That is why I eagerly avoid mention of the fact that I have up to seven times made people laugh before, and once even achieved this with something I wrote, or that I have plans of aiming for a second or third time while I am out here. That way the only business I get caught up in is when I accidentally realize I am a major kingpin in a prostitution ring, when the whole time I thought I was just setting people up and due to the success of the relationships people were then paying me money.

AAA) People in Los Angeles are evidently quite into living beyond their means. A movie is $10.75 (so if you are a lady and I take you to a movie and pay for you, you are doing okay for yourself. Actually, that holds true anywhere, but here movies are evidently gold. Which makes very little sense, as it is not like they have to ship them anywhere), single bedroom apartments on the Westside are crazy expensive, everyone loves shopping at Whole Foods, and I went up to someone to ask them a question the other day, and they automatically (and correctly I guess) assumed I was homeless and gave me $5. So, naturally I did not ask them anything.

Well, Now I am Just Homeless

2007-06-09T10:59:00.000-07:00

So, as one the luckier people around, I did fall into a part time accounting job in my first full day in the Los Angeles area. At least someone called it luck, I call it more or less that four years of accounting firm experience that looks extremely desirable to someone looking for a semi mentally disabled bookkeeper. I can definitely play that role, and with great ease I might add.

But yesterday was not all (umm…flowers and candy? I cannot think of two things to pair here…) escargot and garlic butter…ewww…ummm Fun Dip and candy stick…(eureka!). After finding out about my employ, I began more intensely looking for a place to live. At first I had this glossy eyed dream of getting my own place, but then I realized “Hey! That costs a lot of money, you dirty hobo!”. Soon after I began looking on craigslist for people looking for roommates…so I found a guy, and with the chiding of my new found friends I made at Starbucks, I was encouraged to contact this man since he lived in an excellent neighborhood. I did so, and within an hour I was over at his place.
As I walked in I immediately knew that this was not the “BEDROOM AVAILABLE IN AWESOME TWO LEVEL APARTMENT WITH GREAT AMENITIES!!!”. It was a crappy little place with dirty carpet, odd furniture and fixtures, and an odd 35 year old man from Wisconsin who looked and acted far too much like a creepy Gary Busey (yes…a creepy one…not even normal Gary Busey). This guy had shifty eyes, no sense of humor, his 1985 Nordic Track (my kind natured ribbing about it being 2007 nearly drove him to kill me), and the ability to probably have killed me without anyone knowing where I was. At the end of my “tour” (awkward glances around the rooms, me looking for places to escape) he said he just had three questions to ask me before I left.
GB: So, you don’t smoke right?
TCR: Nope, I don’t.
GB: It’s fine if you do (motions at ceiling for no reason), you just have to do it outside. Question two, do you do drugs?
TCR: Again, that’s a…
GB: (interrupts) I mean if you want to smoke dope and come back here, that’s fine, just don’t do it on my property…well, my landlord’s property. Thirdly…no gay hot sex anywhere on the premises
TCR: (picking up jaw off floor) Really I don’t plan on having gay hot sex anywhere
GB: (extending hand for handshake) Well, I think you are looking like a prime candidate (for what???)
TCR: (shifting nervously, eyeing door) Ummm…thanks. (Things I should have said: I think I might give up this dream and move home. I was thinking about suicide too…so umm yeah, talk to you never)

After that I was not entirely sure I wanted to live with anyone, but by the end of the night I had checked out an awesome place in Brentwood with some cool guys who lived there…they have many people to choose from…I just hope I stuck out enough in their minds with my witty banter/racial slurs/magic tricks/ omelette making.

So, my job is a QuickBooks job I do out of someone’s house. And as if L.A. people were not centrally driven toward the fruity mean in the first place, this woman’s business is making organic cookies and selling them to fru fru stores like Whole Foods…she had awful body odor and a desire to pay me $18/hour for 20 hours a week and thought I was great…and hilarious…which is always a start. If I can meet everyone here, maybe the same impact will be felt throughout. Actually though I am pretty sure that most of the time she did not realize my humor was actually mocking her, but whatever works.
This weekend the main goals are finding a place to leave and showing off my muscle less, pale body down at the beach. The real daytime drama everyone has been waiting for. Also everyone here keeps calling me a writer, but until that is what I get paid to do I would just like to get called a “liver” (not like the organ…I do far less filtering) or “survivor” (not like the TV show, I am way more awesome). Don’t paint me with your brushes.

Oh man Oh man

2007-06-07T10:57:00.001-07:00

To ruin all excitement, yes, I have arrived in Los Angeles. “The City of Angels”, “Where the Angels Used to Play Before they Moved Nowhere but Somehow became ‘of Anaheim’”, “The Place Where that Rodney King Shit Went Down”. As the Tupac song title said, “To Love and Die in LA”, well I aspire to do pretty much 100% living, and 0% dying, but even the best laid plans fail from time to time I guess. More on this LA shizzle in a bit.

-There was a city I encountered by way of road sign on my recent journey, I believe in Nebraska, called “Waukee”. I half thought I should stop there and let the city council know of their new tourist program and slogan (all the while charging them some grand, grand fee, either money or a large number of hamsters). “Come to Waukee…less Mila, more Waukee”. Alright, so that sucks. Give me a break. The only human to human contact I have had the last few days have been with people at gas stations, Subways, and hotel desk front counters. Had I bounced this idea off an actual person I knew, they would have told me how stupid I sounded for sure. Enough of your lip.
- I heard the Stevie Wonder song, “Isn’t She Lovely?” Ummm, Stevie, you are blind. Should the song not have been “Is She Lovely???” The lyrics could have been appropriately changed to “Is she lovely? Because I think she’s wonderful.” If he wanted to keep it with “Isn’t she lovely”, he should have lyrically worked into the song how long he spent feeling her face, and how compared to the countless others he had felt, she was definitely lovely.

Here are the grades for all the states I drove through:
Illinois(D) - I was basically familiar with the area I drove through in Illinois, but the weather was AWFUL. The rain was so bad at one point that I could see barely five or so feet in front of my car. And the terrain is fairly boring.
Iowa (C+)- Yet another state which offers very little to look at in terms of terrain, BUT as I mentioned previously, there were about seven cute girls at my gas station stop in Des Moines, which must count for something. Also, slight kudos to Iowa for offering wireless internet…but at rest stops. We all know what goes on at rest stops, or the stereotype…and it is something besides bathroom breaks (at least according to There’s Something About Mary). Had I been further from home and thinking someone needed to contact me by way of the internet, I for sure would have tried to access this internet from my car.
Nebraska (C-)- Someone in Nebraska should start a hooker farm alongside the road or something. It would be a welcome sight after looking at all that corn and livestock, not to even mention the putrid odor. The one redeeming quality was the surprisingly cool downtown Lincoln, which moved around crazier then that Bacardi mojito commercial. Luckily for me, I am not cool, and sat in my hotel room watching TV and fiddling around online. Plus I remembered all that unemployed stuff. Every dollar I spend is a dollar less that I have. No, no, no…I guess that is how it always is, what I meant is that the money supply is not going back up yet.
Colorado (A-)- Wow. Now I understand why my parents moved to this state for a little while to make a couple awesome children (me and my big sissuh). Actually, no I am not sure they ever really explained what they were doing out there…I might have to ask. But after all the flat terrain of Iowa and Nebraska, Colorado was definitely like whoa. The Rockies were crazy, the driving was actually interesting- large mountainous, curvy climbs followed by down grades of up to 7% where truck drivers would freak out because they were all of a sudden going way too fast…then I would glance at my speed and realize I was going way too fast as well.
Utah (D-)- The scenery is nice, but there is nothing here. Is this really where God wanted the Mormons to settle, Joseph Smith? Well then maybe you should have actually settled it.
California (C-) – It was all windy and shit and boring until I hit LA (no, I am not bored of writing about driving, why would that seem like a boring topic. Silly.)

My first night here come and gone, it was okay. Naturally I felt a little anxious seeing as I had actually arrived and had very little clue as to where to go or who to turn to, but then I remembered it was 2007 and Eileen was able to come through with some internet aid and Paul’s friend who he knows out here, I was able to find an okay hotel in a safe neighborhood. Now I sit in a Starbucks in Culver City, CA, right across the street from Sony Pictures Studios, basking in the mid 70’s sunlight, looking at the people walking by, applying for jobs and looking for potential places to live (dumpsters, old refrigerator boxes, clown cars). If anything I am the homeless person around here with some of the nicest possessions.

Homeless and Unemployed

2007-06-04T20:50:00.000-07:00

Strangely my google search of "homeless and unemployed college graduates" returned very few results, BUT I am going to go out on a limb and say that from this time last week, when I had a job and a roof over my head, to my current status of having no job and no home, I have jumped into a very small percentile. A bracket so small, it is like the empty set.

This past weekend was my last in Chicago for a while, and while it was a great time, the end was so bittersweet. Although I know it is not the actual "end", since I am not going on a Kevorkionic journey, but rather moving away. It did not really hit me until I was saying goodbye to all my close friends how sad it makes me to leave them...it would really have been much kinder of all of them to simply come with me. No big deal for anyone, right?

As today was the first day of this cross country drive, I got to drive through some exciting places...Iowa "We've Got Corn....eh, Fuck You" and Nebraska "We're Boring so You Don't Have to Be". Some of the highlights of my Iowa drive:

- I accidentally listened to a Christian Rock station for like 20 minutes
-I got a full tank of gas for $34
- The gas stations were mainly called "Kum and Go" (what would be a dirty joke with that as the punchline? answer at the end)
- Des Moines, Iowa is full of cute girls, stopping at convenience stores to peruse Starburst

The only place I stopped in Iowa was to get gas at the Kum and Go in Des Moines. Here I experienced the ugly underbelly of Des Moines- a fairly plain looking man going around from garbage can to garbage can collecting cans. Someone even walked over to him and offered him cans from their car. I avoided eye contact with him and gave him my full can of Red Bull to avoid confrontation, since I knew he would want the valuable aluminum.

On the road I passed many of those trucks marked "Oversized Load" or "Wide Load". 90% of these have these tiny houses on them- just as long as a semi truck and a tad wider. I really do not understand who is moving these houses around. Do people really think, "Our house is so nice, we better throw it on a truck and move it wherever we live next? There definitely will not be any fine rectangular , one story homes the next place we live." I understand I am a huge idiot and this is not the real reason these fine "mansion like" homes are on the move, but do not let me know the real reason (at least not publicly, just fire me an e-mail at tradway@hotmail.com)

I am currently sitting in my ballin ass 11th floor room in dowtown Lincoln, Nebraska enjoying the internet access, fine view, and thinking about finding some food to eat soon. When I arrived here, a positive, hopeful about the future traveler, I thought about wandering to grab a beer at one of the nearby "hotspots" (Read: a bar that may or may not have over three types of beer and A LOT of corn based products), now I am unsure about this plan. I just remembered I am homeless and unemployed and therefore public is awkward, I have to ask for change, wear tattered clothes, smell odd (since I have yet to shower form my day in the car, I actually have this one handled), and dig through garbage cans for food.

Answer (to dirty joke punchlined above): What do you call it when a man goes to a woman's house for sex and then leaves directly afterwards?

Talk to you again soon, home slices.

Satan Laughing Spreads His Wings

2007-05-24T09:09:00.000-07:00

Everyone loves a little Ozzy Osbourne. Except radical fundamentalist Christians, people who inexplicably listen to only country music, people who do not speak English, animal rights groups, people who have been pooed or peed on by the Ozzman himself (unless they are into that), people who earn their livelihood working for another death metal/rock artist, and people who are not fans of Satan or cursing. Like I said, everyone.

The reason I bring this up is that if a man who has bitten the head off a dove, has a nickname like "The Prince of Darkness", has been to rehab umpteen times, and speaks in a incomprehendable voice, can become popular by way of MTV reality programming, I only imagine what such an opportunity could do for myself and my friends.

-None of us have been to rehab (yet)
-None of us have eaten any living creatures (I did swallow a tiny plastic ninja once)
-None of us have Satanic nicknames
-Aside from the occasional drunken slurred speech, we speak audibly and clearly.

Our antics are most certainly reality TV worthy, and I could assure MTV execs would only become better if being entertaining and having fun were our sole foci. For instance, I will mention some of the things that happened last Saturday to Paul and me:

-Went to a party where we knew no one
-Got into a pushup contest in front of the Cubby Bear with a man who played semi-pro basketball in Turkey, thus infuriating him
-Were asked later at the party "if we knew, like, everyone" (the power of nicknames, high fives, and good communication skills with strangers)
-Got kicked out of Taco Bell

All of these things happened sans camera crew, and without the additional push of being paid to be entertaining. Make it happen MTV.

The other day I happened to be on a channel that was showing the weather forecast for this upcoming weekend and as they showed angry, menacing dark clouds with jagged yellow lightning bolts coming out of them, I was immediately filled with distaste for this prediction and changed the channel, acting as if changing the channel would, in fact, affect the outcome of the weather this weekend.

I only wish that this were possible. Imagine the effects: Your favorite team loses a game? Change the channel before the highlight clip is over. The result is bound to be different. So, everyone can thank me for the sunny beauty we are sure to see this weekend.

The other day when I was riding downtown, I was sitting next to a particularly chatty child who was talking to his Mom about his evident prowess in well, everything. The child had to be no more than four years old, and sometimes I wish that word and number understanding, even for adults, would never surpass the logic of a four year old child. Allow me to explain:

-At one point he turned to his Mom, sighing, and said, "We have been riding this train for ten thousand billion minutes. I can run like 700 times faster than this train."

Thus proving that the fictional number of "ten thousand billion" is probably less than "700".

I magine being at work and your boss asks you how long you have been there already that day and you could respond "eight hundred trillion fafillion days"...there's no way he is then not sending you home early.

Another helpful facet of this would be that my accounting job would be totally moot. Jibberish numbers=Very little reason to try and analyze said numbers. Especially when guesstimation and approximation came into play.

Kids are funny, and one could be on our reality show.

Blah Blah Blah....

2007-05-18T08:06:00.000-07:00

Some reasons why you should not:

1) Be a sportswriter/caster and give in to using the same stupid cliches as everyone else.
For example, the phrase "drink the kool-aid" that is being used in sports that has been mentioned in this space many times for its sheer oddity/stupidity/general all around weirdness, I have discovered a new phrase that baseball writers have been using to describe pitchers..."bulldogs", as in, "I love Roy Oswalt, he is a real bulldog on the mound."

Let's see what wikipedia says about bulldogs:

"The temperament of the English Bulldog is generally docile, friendly and gregarious..."

"The bulldog is a relatively small but stocky breed, with a compact body and short, sturdy limbs. Its shape results in a waddle-like gait..."

So, what exactly are they saying about these pitchers? Why not just call them "poodles on the mound"?

So, why should you not stick to using these phrases if you are in sports?

a) You begin to sound just like every other idiot using the same phrase. If something like comparing basketball players to classic ballet acts became popular, would everyone do it?
b) At the very least, find a fierce dog to compare your MLB pitchers to, say, a rottweiler. Also find a non cult related non mass suicide to indicate uncertainty about a players future.
c)You just sound dumb. Seriously, I get mad when I read these silly analogies.

2) Tell your Chicago area friends who are Cubs fans you are going to a Sox game/Sit in the same sun exposure within four days:

a)In Chicago people seem to think that the Cubs and Sox are bitter rivals. Funny, because I always thought that the Cubs rivals were the Cardinals and the Sox had their own rivals in the...ummm...someone. The Cubs and Sox began playing 6 (out of 162) games a year 11 years ago...that is not a rivalry. If someone were to call you up and offer the following options:

"Stay at work, indoors, and sober" OR "Sit outside in beautiful weather, drinking beer, watching sports" what is the choice 100% of the time?

My slightly dumb friend Mike said going to a Sox game as a Cubs fan would be akin to a Bears fan cheering for the Packers...once again...they are actual rivals who hate each other and are in the same division.

b)Bryce has recently aquired centerfield season tix for the Sox and due to the exposure it gets during day games, the left side of my neck and face look as if I have been in a tropical locale. So you should try and vary this kind of stuff up to end up with far less of an odd look.

3) Tell people you are moving away: (I mean obviously you should tell people about this, but I have some reasons why not too)

a) People will invariably question your sanity when you tell them of your lack of future planning. Having your sanity questioned gets a little lame after a while.

b) People will invariably then whine about you leaving. While touching, I have to continually explain I am not dying, merely moving away for a little while. I am not going to abandon you like your Dad did when you were three.

c) Everyone then wants to hang out with you a lot more. Not like you have been around for the last six years and had nothing to do plenty of times.

4) Ever eat a burrito place where the name translates to "Good Day Burritos":

a)The next day will not be a good day....for your digestive system.

Dear Ed

2007-05-10T14:05:00.000-07:00

For this week's reading pleasure (and by pleasure I mean, you might not want to read this unless you are in some way mentally altered, whether by drug, drink, or eating a bunch of frozen hot dogs the past few minutes) I am writing a letter to a family "friend", Ed K, or E. Kithcart (for anonymity purposes) six months from now. Let me give you some Ed 411.

Ed is a man I have known my entire life by virtue of the fact that my Mom has been friends with Ed's wife since they were in grade school. These two women forged a strong bond in their youth by way of various underage illegal activities (drinking, driving, drinking and driving, petty theft, vargrancy, extortion...etc.) and remain friends to this day. Where Ed was found, or in what backwards society he was raised, I really have no answer.

The reason I wish to write Ed this letter, at an imagined six months in the future, is that he is one of the more loathsome people you might get stuck to having a conversation with at a party-ever.

At this past weekends Derby party, he asked me about my upcoming move to LA, then when bidding me farewell, threw out in his gravelly, hick voice "See ya Tim, watch our for them homos."

I heard of another conversation where someone was speaking of having done some sort of acting work in the Louisville area of Shelbyville, and all Ed had to add was, "Do you speak Mexican? Ain't nothin but Mexicans out there."

So this and many other reasons are the reasons for this letter (plus it will be balls out funny...and one other time when I was like 9 we went to their house for dinner, and he made stupid trick hamburgers that actually had cheese, onions, and mushrooms in the middle of them...I hate you for that Ed).

11-10-07

Dear Ed,

How have things been going? Things have been going okay for me out here in L.A., although I wish I would have heeded your warning about the homos out here...they are more numerous than all those goddamn beaners in Shelbyville (don't they know no one understands them???), and more than a couple of times, I have been heterosexually chatting to a lady only for her to try and introduce me to her "male friends". Don't worry, I knew they were homos and not just friendly men. Thanks for your warning again.

That's another thing about L.A., all these people going around speaking Mexican. What did George Washington talk? NOT MEXICAN!!!

Luckily as a hetero male, I have achieved some level of success out here (you might say with all these homos out here, I was guaranteed success...just like a new burrito stand would be in Shelbyville!) and hope to continue this line of success.

That being said, what do you think of Indians (dot or feather, I am open to discussion)?

I am glad to find a like minded individual with whom I can share this open rapport.

Tim

PS: What do you call a little Mexican?

A paragraph, because he's not quite an essay!

Well, hopefully that lends some idea of Ed to the world. My Uncle Chris actually declared that the winner of the May 26th UFC battle between Brian and I gets to beat up Ed next year. Even though, beyond beating up, I have dreams of a locked in a room together convo between Proctor and Ed....a man can dream.

WORD UP

"You just said I live a squishy, soft, Nerf life"

2007-05-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, I spent a great deal of time at the airport last Friday. And I had the "honor" of watching people, and then making casual asinine observations about them and trying to use whatever ability it is that is used to let them know what I am thinking. (Also, yes, work has been a little slow. Who cares? Everyone is the beneficiary the way I see it.)

Here are some of the highlights of my airport waiting experience:

1)Woman, who generally looked bitchy, wearing a black sweatshirt with the simple scrawl on it reading "vegan.". Ok, thanks for letting me know about that you angry, meatless, poultryless woman. If I had should happen to run into some tofu oddly shaped into meat form (think McRib), I'll be sure to toss it your direction. And previously I had thought Vegans were friendly people. And also, I should have asked her where she got her sweatshirt so I could have gotten my "omnivore." sweatshirt. Did you ever notice how people react when they are told that someone is a vegetarian or vegan? Why don't those of us that readily enjoy eating some dead cow get such a reaction? Where is this land? Awww shit, it might be L.A.

2)A man sitting next to me pulled out his laptop, plunked on his glasses, and I was almost sure he was going to be reading something. Instead what does he do? Throws Waterboy in the DVD player and starts laughing away. Don't mistake me, I think Waterboy is a good movie, but I do not think I have ever watched it on purpose with the exception of the very first time I ever saw it. I just would never (first of all, never put on glasses to watch a movie) pull out Waterboy as my DVD of choice to pass time.

3)An old man sitting near me, during the seven hours of waiting, ate not one, but TWO double quarter pounder with cheese meals pre-flight. I said several prayer like incantations (curse words) and luckily this man was not seated anywhere near me in flight. Because I have noticed old people have no regard, or very little, for holding in any explosions of flatulence. And, like babies, it makes them coo and giggle a little bit, but more because it smells like death then due to the fact that they feel relieved.

4)Our gate was directly next to the "Fox Sports Zone". Normally, had I had further money then the meager amount on my person, I would have been there having fun and not at all concerned about time. Instead I sat at the gate. When I walked past the bar at 10:30 am, it was empty. When I walked past at noon, there was a full fledged euro dance party going on. It was pure lunacy. Unfortunately I did not wear my trendy club clothes (all velvet, all the time) to hang out at this bar in the airport. I am such an idiot.

In an earlier e-mail conversation with my friend Mike, he mentioned how his eight month pregnant boss had said some comment about how the doctor had told her to spread her legs, and he had (not so) wittily then thrown out, "Isn't that what got you in this mess in the first place?" So, without further ado, I bring you the Top 5 things to say to a very pregnant woman (if you want to get slapped, or should she be armed, shot)

5) "Maybe if you drink during pregnancy, the baby will actually have a chin, unlike you."

4) "While you're up, wanna grab me something to drink? And maybe move your fatass out of the way of the TV?"

3) "So do you think the baby will represent all of the 60 pounds you have put on? That would be a huge baby."

2) Print out the "babies are stupid" article here. Hand it to her.

http://www.physics.mcgill.ca/~arobic/funny/babies.html

1) "How many episodes of Maury do you think it will take to find the father?"

Thank you, thank you very much. By the way, I noticed my commenter has stopped commenting. Please come back.

Globetrotting Family Time

2007-04-30T06:53:00.000-07:00

After past bouts in the recent years of going extended periods without seeing any members of my immediate family, recently there has been a spike in the amount of times I see all sorts of members of my family, and in all sorts of different locales. Let me explain.

My sister Kay, is the one I see the most, mainly due to the fact that she goes to my alma mater one suburb away.

Then for Easter my whole family was in town, including my sister Eileen, in from New York.

This past weekend, I went to visit Eileen in NY, so past streaks of nearly 8 months without seeing her, had now been reduced to mere weeks.

My Dad is coming to pick up Kay from school and bring her home for the summer on Tuesday.

Then, this weekend we will all reconvene in Louisville for the Derby.

So, this past weekend in NY, it was so weird to bid farewell to my sister and throw out a casual, "See you next week". But it is cool.

So, New York. Originally I was supposed to leave on Thursday afternoon. This flight got cancelled due to weather, (who can really blame the airline for that?) and I was rescheduled for a 9:25 flight the next morning. So logically I went out and got really sloppy on Thursday night- after all- I was on "vacation". (So does that mean every weekend I am on vacation? Or do I have to take a Friday off? Does that mean if I take a Friday off, I am on vacation and can do exorbitant activities? Because this weekend I got a lot of "Oh come on, you're on vacation, live in excess. Eat these 15 pounds of steak and drink entire cases of beer in one sitting, etc.")

I arrived at the airport at 7:45 the next morning only to see that my flight had already been delayed until 11. No big deal, or so I thought. I went and grabbed a fine chair by the gate and tried to get comfy, but due to the sandpaper/cat tongue quality of my mouth, I had to go fetch some water. It was at this point, my first monetary transaction since the night prior, and the first point when I had to be dismayed by the fact that I had apparently removed my debit and credit card from my wallet. I know you are thinking right now, "Tim, you are a first class retard, how could you do such a thing?" or "Tim, you classless son of a bitch." or "I wonder what the special is at Panda Express today?"

Well, I do this from time to time. The three items that potentially will not be in my wallet are all those that I might just stick in my pocket, and therefore leave laying about, or in said pocket are of critical importance: debit card, credit card, identification. Of all weekends to lose purchasing power, this was not the one. Luckily, for some odd reason, as I never have paper money, I had around $90 on me. I knew this was not enough for a rip roaring fun weekend, but at the very least I was not to be completely destitute. (and luckily I was going to see my sister, who was very kind in not once calling me "classless", a "retard" or some other vicious combo of words when she was pulling out money to pay for me. Little does she know, or I guess she knows completely, I will be seeing her this upcoming weekend, and hopefully making her go someplace where I will buy her an excess of something, determined by our location. A bar: too much to drink; a restaurant: a gluttonous amount of food; a toy store: a bunch of jigsaw puzzles; an orphan black market: like three of those Korean babies and a little Russian one....you get the idea)

So, several hours later and nearly every time passing tactic employed (reading Hemingway, phone conversations, acerbic mental diatribes at airport employees, annoying texts to friends, sleeping uncomfortably, telling those around me I was alright if they needed to eat me to survive, etc.) we finally left the ground in Chicago at around 3:30. Effin A. So, I lost basically a whole day in NY, which stunk.

Here is a summary of the trip:

-Subway
-Shower
-Dinner with my sister and her friends
-Bar (mocked for being "not party animal" when tired)
-Sleep
-Shower
-Lunch
-Brewery tour (mocked brewery for being "not party animal"...seriously, no free samples were offered)
-Grindhouse (two zombied thumbs up)
-Walk
-Dinner at my aunt's
-Red Hook with sister and cousin Kosiya (this was the most frightening and exciting seeming place to go since they both kept saying that it was "lawless". Unfortunately Eileen's fave bar, a bar festooned with taxidermied animals, was oddly packed with people and therefore she was "visibly shaken" about it not being a typical time at this bar)
-Different bar (mocked for being "not party animal" when tired)
-Sleep
-Brunch
-Home

It was a very quick trip, but still a semi relaxing weekend and a very fun time. It was great to hang out with family members and to talk about all sorts of weird and funny stories. And I am sure next weekend will provide more of the same. Craziness.

Pippity poppity, give me the zoppity

2007-04-19T12:47:00.000-07:00

Some complaints from last week from me and others:

-That last week's blog was too long. I forgot we live in a world of instant gratification. Next time my musings are that long, I will offer a summary at the beginning, something like:

*Slur
*Not funny pun
*Slur
*Attempt at wit
*Mocking of the deceased
*Slur
*FIN

-After reading my writings, Brian now thinks I want him to break my rib. I said "ribs or something". Just make me give up by choking me to death or something.

-Another complaint I got: "Tim, you use too many inappropriate punctuation marks." Sorry, Grammar Guru, I don't care. I just type it out and then post it. No complex revision processes or expensive editors employed in these parts. I don't even use that spell check mofo.

I recently came across a piece of paper where I had written down another SNL character idea. His name initially, was "Extrapolation Man", but due to the audience of SNL these days (people who got drunk to early in the day and have awakened to watch SNL, stoners, and Logan) a better name might be "Gross Overexaggeration Man". Anywho, the principle idea of this character is that he extrapolates things way too far. Along me to illustrate:

1)He could be on an airplane. Sensing the ever increasing altitude during takeoff, our hero attempts to calm everyone down from their impending doom because he thinks, based on very little data, that the plane will go up forever and is not equipped for space travel.

2) He could see his wife baking a loaf of bread and while she is letting it rise, he could see how much the bread had risen inonly 20 short minutes and attempt to evacuate the city since he believes it will soon be decimated by this bread.

3)He could see some really large young kid and think that by the time the kid is 30 he will be 38 feet tall and weigh 650 pounds and try and have him put to sleep.

Really, in any situation where something is a factor of time, this guy could make gross overassumptions of the situation. Try to make some up, it is actually slightly amusing.

So, tax season is over yet again. And in one of the more bizarre work circumstances of my life, I was sent home from work on Monday. Yes, almost like a third grader is sent home. I came into work on Monday despite not feeling very well (I had felt badly all weekend, and my Mom will be proud to read I made the wise decision to still go out and have fun on Saturday night. It's what she would have done), figuring that I could rough it out on such a big day for the others at work. However, my coughing was evidently too much and at 10:30, I had the following conversation:

D: "Tim, do you have anything pressing you are working on right now?"
Tim: "No, what is it that you need me to do?" (trying to be helpful)
D:"I need you to get out of here. Go home, now."
Tim: "Ummm...ok? Can do."

Then on Tuesday, when I called in the morning, I was asked if I was still coughing, which I was, and was again commanded to not show my face. Even today I have coughed a few times, although trying to keep it more quiet, and the same boss told me "maybe you should seek medical attention." No, I think I am just a tad congested now, but thanks.

KONICHIWA BITCHES

"Unless they just like....scissor or something"

2007-04-12T08:05:00.000-07:00

Happy April 12th to all. Actually, while not unhappy, April 12th leaves a whole lot to be desired. Here are my problems with it:

1)It is a Thursday. A Thursday at work in which I have nothing to do. I am thinking of making up some fake phone interview I have to do at home, you know, for the land line. When really I would go eat Combos and play video games for a couple hours.

2)Now playing the role of weather in Chicago, it is my distinct pleasure to give you.....CARRIE! 70's one week, snow yesterday! HOORAY!

3)While April 12 th is nearing that all important tax day of April 15th, I still have one Saturday morning that I have the distinct privilege of coming to work. (all this after my boss gave me the infamous "bagel and e-mail check speech" over a year ago. Evidently, for team solidarity ((what are we communists?)), even if I have no work, because others ARE busy, I need to come in, eat a bagel, and check my e-mail. Sounds easy? Well, I still have to wake up in the morning, which means no drinking 3,500 beers and eating Good n' Plenty at 4:30 in the morning while watching infomercials) I will be glad when that crap is done.

4)Google is celebrating April 12th with an alteration of their Google logo to commemerate a Russki going into space on this dat ein 1961 (Yuri Gagarin). Fuck you Google. Alter your logo to celebrate Chuck Norris being alive that day instead (by covering it in whiskey, hot sauce, and blood while being scissor kicked).

On Saturday, May 26, 2007, Brian Munoz and I will for some odd reason be having a UFC fight in my backyard. I think I may have suggested this at some point and thought Brian was serious in his agreement, which he soon came to be. So, this will actually happen on that date. I think. There have been some dreams lately which worry me, what with the impending fight and all, as well as my propensity for hospital visits year after year.

In one recurring dream, I have a deep cut through my right eyebrow. This dream I have had no less then 8 times. Just the way I like my subconscious mind to work before I battle my friend.

In another dream that has popped up a couple times, I have a Looney Tune-esque bruise on my forehead. It looks as if an Acme anvil has been dropped on my face, and a giant lump, or as some might call it, a "horn" has formed in its place.

So Brian, watch the face. It's my moneymaker. Break some ribs or something.

Another issue with this fight is that I am more about my image as a fighter then actually having any clue as to how to pummel someone into some sort of submission. But, my created image is pretty fuckin sweet.

Here is a brief summary of me, as a UFC fighter:

Name: Tim "The Walking Myth" Radway

Pre-Fight Prep: Instead of punching someone's hands in a room pre-fight, my training room will be filled with smoke.

Entrance Song: "Bring Your Whole Crew" by DMX (quick lyric sample: "I got blood on my hands and there's no remorse I got blood on my dick cuz I fucked a corpse I'm a nasty nigga when u pass me nigga look me in my eyes Tell me to my fuckin face that u ready to die ") a simply frightening song. I only hope I can refrain from smiling pre-fight.

I will also bring a body bag with me to the ring. That's pretty much all I've got. Assuming one of these can somehow be acquired by a member of the general public.

In this spot previously I have used my special ability to degrade things, as well as watch TV, to tear apart several advertisements that I thought were really stupid and not worthy of viewing. Well, advertising world, stop shaking in your proverbial boots (I always wanted to say proverbial boots....they aren't really proverbial at all), I will now kindly laud a couple of the spots I have seen recently, and really enjoy.

1) Geico Caveman Ads: Brilliant....I really enjoy these ads and have been trying to convince people ever since their inception that we need to dress up as these Cavemen for Halloween, or some other occasion, like a Tuesday night out on the town. (Sorry Geico, I switched away from your insurance.)

2) Hot Pockets Chinese Man Ads: I have only seen a couple of these, but the one that really sticks with me, I will now describe with the writing skills of a 7 year old: A teenage boy and a girl are on a couch in a basement "making out" (not star wars making out ((my sister Nora described this as "Hands going boldly where no hands have gone before))) when suddenly this Asian dude (an old Asian dude with a sweet ass Fu Manchu) pops up from behind the couch and says "You not hungry for girl, you hungry for Hot Pocket". Cut to boy on couch, he is now eating a hot pocket, while the girl sits disgustedly, thinking of becoming a lesbian.

Creepy Story from Sports World About Athlete I Used to Hold in High Regard (and still do pretty much, but after the story I have to act like I hold him in less high regard, even though I don't):

I will not include the entire article, just the creepy excerpt from it. May I also note that the passage was mentioned in such a blase fashion, as if it was not totally weird.

"Maddux? For a guy with a CPA's demeanor, he has a sense of humor that a 12-year-old would envy. Maddux is a master of strategically timed nose picking, sidling up to an unsuspecting rookie in the shower and urinating on the kid's leg, and inventing just the right nickname for a teammate with big ears, a prominent schnozz or some other pronounced physical qualities. "

Yes, Greg Maddux pees on people, evidently as some sort of hazing to the youngsters. He also might have a desire to get punched. Greg Maddux or no, I do not want anyone peeing on my leg.

Someone has recently been leaving comments on my blog. First of all, thank you. I love reading comments and actual feedback about what I have written, rather then just imagining my own feedback. But, allow me to post the most recent comment:

"I hope you keep this blog when you get famous. It is the highlight of my week if that tells you anything! Keep on being awesome and inform us of the jewish religion so we can use that to get out of work! "

Several comments from me:
-I hope I keep this blog when I get famous too. That would be sweet of me, like an old grandmother who still makes cookies for her grandkids even though she is a certain "Mrs.Field".

-I am so glad I could be the highlight of someone's week. The highlight of my week is usually when I keep myself upright after a near slip and fall. Well, I guess that is more like "18 highlights", but who's counting?

-Alright, as far as informing you of the Jewish religion....how do I say this....I'm not really what you would consider Jewish, more of a "raised Roman Catholic agnostic person". Any information I give to you so that you might get off work, based on Judaism, will have to be found on Wikipedia or invented in my head. So, here's this one...ummm...say next Thursday is the Jewish holiday celebrating...ummm....the dinosaurs. And you have to fast or something.

But in all reality, all comments are inappropriately loved, to the point of restraining order.

My friend Melissa has recently started doing the "Atkins Diet" in an effort to drive herself crazy and protest against bread or something. I have always thought the Atkins diet was one of the more ridiculous ones out there, and logically I have my reasons:

1)I love bread. I once had a civil ceremony wedding myself to a warm whole wheat loaf. I got a big insurance policy on it, and subsequently ate it. The fraud charges are still being litigated.

2)Even a majority of fruits and vegetables, due to their crab content, are eliminated in this diet. That makes a whole lot of sense. Instead of these on the side, you can eat chicken with a side of steak, or steak with a side of chicken. Either way, si delicioso!

3) I know there are lots of unnecessary carbs out there, like when I eat a giant pixie stick for dinner, but carbs are also the building block of energy. So, aren't you always going to be tired?

4)With all the extra protein in the diet, women usually end up with bigger arms then me. I do not like that.

5) It is far too easy to taunt someone on this diet by doing things like stopping by their desk at work chewing on a crusty French baguette, ever so casually.

6)Dr.Atkins was actually a cartoonist his entire life before a legal battle against the Wonderbread company (he thought their logo was infringing on a character he had drawn) made him stop eating bread, and he then lost a lot of weight. What he fails to mention is that he became a double amputee at the time (an iguana farm accident) and well, legs weigh a lot....

I feel like I have been a tad verbose. Oh well. Read and enjoy. And leave some comments. Really. I need feedback or else I can keep writing things that offend you (unknowingly). I'd much rather KNOW I was writing offensive things.

"What's your name?" "TIM! WOOOO!"

2007-04-02T12:57:00.000-07:00

Before I lose you to boredom or mental fatigue, and before I begin a profanity laced, comedic tirade on the current affairs of my life, I wish to respond to a question I have been hearing more and more often as I tell people about my plans for the near future:

"Aren't you afraid you are going to fail?"

To this I say: If I continue my current life trajectory, am I not failing right now? Am I best utilizing the qualities and skills that I possess currently? No. Not even close. I am much more frightened (of cats sucking ou tmy breath while I sleep, scary movies, being trapped in a vat of maple syrup or some other equally viscous substance, being 85 and smelling of cat feces...etc.) of staying where I am and looking back at my life in 10-20 years and saying, "Ummm....what the hell have I been doing?" I am therefore looking at the future as being full of great opportunities...after all, as "they" (the liberal media) say about life, "no one makes it out alive." And another thing about this whole "failure" issue, I am a cocky bastard, so no, I really do not see this whole idea of not achieving some level of success as a possibility.

Alright. Bitchasses. I believe at certain times of hunger and lament, I would probably maim or murder for some Q-Doba chicken nachos....like, not right now, since I just ate lunch recently, but maybe later. Because they are the epitome of all things good in this world. Although it might be far wiser to pay $6 for them. The jury is still out on this one.

I have recently been reading another Dan Brown novel, Deception Point. He is one of the most overhyped authors around. People mistake his books for being good and well written when all it really seems to be is excitement and hype thinly veiled in mystery. Do most great novels include 100+ chapters? And even if they did, do corny hook lines need to be used to get you hyped up to continue reading? (But little did she know, it would be her last breath of air for the time being) It's literary crack is all. (Of course I have been trying to read it really quickly...crack is addictive, even the literary variety). I could write 650 one sentence blogs in a week and string you along through each one with lines of captivation....but after the rocket landed, few knew if life would ever be the same.

Last weekend a few of us men were sitting around on a lazy Saturday evening and began watching the film Coyote Ugly, but as this did not seem near manly enough for us, I thought we should imagine every character in the film being played by either Chuck Norris (He is this manly: "Chuck Norris owns the greatest Poker Face of all-time. It helped him win the 1983 World Series of Poker despite him holding just a Joker, a Get out of Jail Free Monopoly card, a 2 of clubs, 7 of spades and a green #4 card from the game Uno.") or by Patrick Swayze, but only the Patrick Swayze from the film Roadhouse. Once imagining this film, it turned into a classic. The two best scenes were:

A love scene (which with these two characters was actually them playing bloody knuckles and high fiving intermittently) where a cardboard cutout of Patrick Swayze was visibile (this director brilliantly using pop culture references, natch).

A scene where they were attending a wedding, and Patrick Swayze was on Chuck Norris' shoulders on the dance floor.

Is it an odd or inappropriate response to someone when they ask about future plans for an evening or weekend to say," Ummm....probably just be awesome." I don't think it is. That is why I say it a lot.

As the spring weather mushes along and tries to be consistenly warmer, the men of the world receive a new gift: women once again caring for their legs and wearing skirts in public. I mean this in the least creepy way possible, but after months and months of everyone of both sexes wearing jeans, it is nice to see women once again using their womanly legs to attract men. Sure, even us men with nice (chicken) legs can start wearing shorts, but, and while I am not 100% sure of this, women are not sitting around excited to see men's legs once again.

Well, I must get back to work, and by back to work I mean following the last two innings of this Cubs game that by some odd circumstances they will win, thus keeping my 162 win prediction for the regular season intact. Please leave some feedback, comments, or your favorite curse word. All is appreciated.

I want to google you....in the worst way

2007-03-22T09:52:00.000-07:00

Sounds dirty, doesn't it? I am merely talking about doing an internet search for someone. Although if you say this title phrase with a big country swang it sounds just wrong...also if you replace the word google with "emulate" it sounds bad too (but once again, that just means to act like, or imitate)

This past Tuesday marked the anniversary of me being taken out of my Mom's womb. I turned 24. What an exciting age, thus far marked by arthritic joints, a furthered enjoyment of Matlock reruns, and a lust for food that does not require too much chewing.

Early in the day, probably due in large part to no one at work knowing it was my birthday, (and I, of course did not want a pity happy birthday) I felt sort of humdrum about the day, not all excited and upbeat like one might usually feel on their "special day". Even once I went home, I felt tired and not really all that enthused about going out for some casual brews that evening. But, some people came out, and it was actually a pretty fun night. How odd. Of course I had to have a double of Geritol the next morning to make up for it all.

Fellow "bloggart" (it is a new term that will be sweeping the nation used to describe us people who write this crap ((but not the ones who write about how they feel mocked by society and all that garbage))) (and even when I call him a bloggart, I use that term loosely because he really churns out some crap from time to time) Victor P. sometimes writes a somewhat witty "Dear Vic" column, in which he makes up short letters to him from acquaintances and attempts to either wittily respond to them, or to string together coherent statements, sometimes it is tough to tell. So, I was thinking, "Self, you should do that sometime".

Dear Tim,

I sometimes read your blog and weep at its true beauty, eloquent prose, and sheer superiority to anything I have written, (although I was proud of that post it note I left at that girls house one time in the morning "tootles, I think I love you") so just a quick question; what can I do to aspire to be sort of like you?

-Vic

Victor, first of all, don't force out so much drivel. I mean look at this direct excerpt:

"Presently, I continue to be dogged with allegations in regards to the strength of my integrity. Not by enemies, former lovers, or barn animals, but by good friends."

Barn animals can't talk, replace this with Vietnamese massage parlor workers....it flows a lot better. See?

Secondly, if writing a blog every third day is really what you need to offer self-therapy because someone has called out your abilities as a man (whether it be drinking, with the ladies, playing sports, eating something with pepper on it, etc.), go invest in a trapper keeper and some looseleaf and write it down there. That way I don't have to login to myspace, see the "New Blog Subscription Post" message, and then have to read about how Trevor called you out.

HOLLA

Dear Tim,

I am a woman of what I consider to be many talents. I am good at artistic endeavors, good with people, and have even been through all that college mumbo-jumbo. What next?

-Sarah P.

Dear Sarah,

Anything you want is what is next. You definitely should not be waiting on people at a country club where the best tips you get are those regarding ideas for new employ from those you serve. Do it to it. Also, stop obsessing about your path to sainthood. I don't think that time you put air in your bike tire will really be viewed as one of your miracles.

HOLLA

Dear Tim,

As one of your housemates and close friends, I sometimes marvel at the way you can drink so much, touch the ceiling without jumping, throw out witty comments with ease, and yet still manage to have time to be a genuinely cool and good smelling man. Just out of curiosity, what's the secret?

-Paul

Dear Paul,

1)I can drink just as much as you can. Don't be so modest.
2)I am tall and that is what causes me to be able to touch the ceiling. Don't worry, I have yet to turn it into anything other than an ability to reach things high on shelves.
3)The wit might be more forced out of a desire to hear laughter. And like a good psychic, you readily forget the stuff I say that is not funny at all (like with psychics saying a bunch of incorrect crap)
4)I shower regularly and make sure to always wear a dash or two of Polo Black cologne.

HOLLA

Dear Tim,

I often come to you with ideas for sports teams that I think seem realistic, and you continue to guide me in the correct direction. What should I do to fix this? Also, can you avoid using big words in the response, they make my brain itch.

-Mike

Dear Mike,

Do a little research into the subject matter before you come to me with a preposterous idea like: "What the Bulls should really do is build a time machine and pick up that Wilt Chamberlain guy...I heard he was good....or something?" Wilt Chamberlain is dead and John Paxson's time machine building skills are way overrated. That is what I would tell you, or in more verbose form for some brain itching, do not so readily push yourself into a flurry of mental quandaries based solely on the impetus to make a verbalization.

HOLLA

Dear Tim,

Sometimes you offer me advice so logical, it almost does not make sense. And of course, I seldom listen to you. When will I learn?

-Melissa

Dear Melissa,

You won't. That's what makes it so fun to look back in the past and laugh about stuff I have told you. Well, I always get a good laugh out of it at least. I am sure some of the stuff is not really making you have a hearty chuckle.

HOLLA

Dear Tim,

As my only brother, and next closest sibling in age, I sometimes wonder why I too cannot start writing a blog that entertains, informs, and generally improves the general consciousness of society, especially since I am the one with the English degree. Help?

-Eileen

Dear Eileen,

This is just like when we were ages 4 and 5 and sent to the grocery store across the street by our (looking back, seemingly nonchalant and irresponsible) Mom (who sends little kids to the grocery store...I mean, I know there were two of us, but we combined were 9 years old....and I know some 9 year olds who aren't allowed out of the driveway) to buy something which we could never seem to locate. Who always had to ask where it was? Me. And who was always trembling with fear if they had to talk to someone to ask where something was? You. Stop trembling with fear, and start asking where the stuff is.

HOLLA

Dear Tim,

Although I do not ever readily admit this, I think you might be some sort of evolutionary advancement of the human race; while not really good at anything, you are like some sort of otherworldy Renaissance man. Aside from stopping any of the following: pedophilia, beastiality, bulimia, rage, how can I become a better human?

-Trevor

Dear Trevor,

Uhhh....you should probably stop all those. Thanks for the admiring words...I might testify on your behalf in whatever trial is bound to occur? Does that work?

HOLLA