Asteroid Movies? Where Have you Gone?

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

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

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

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

Racial Slur? (shrugs shoulders)

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

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

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

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

TUNAK TUNAK

SABADO GIGANTE!!!

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

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

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

Twenty Menudos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Dad,

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

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

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

Love,
Tim, ambidextrous son yet right handed only thrower


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

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

KONICHIWA.

PC load letter? What the fuck does that mean?

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

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

A LIST OF UPDATED FEARS:

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

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

2. A brain freeze that does not go away.

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

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

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


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

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

TACOSMADEBYAPIRATE.COM

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

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

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

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

Opinion poll: Am I awesome?

Yes

OR

Of Course

Please cast your votes.

Ham Sandwiches $350.00

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

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

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

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

Because I wanna

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GAME OVER.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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"

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.