Thursday, February 28, 2008

Not To Be Confused With The Bionic

OK, after a little bit of hullabaloo, Dunph and Lane are back in the links. I took Lane out because he wasn't updating; he complained that Dunph wasn't taken out since he didn't update anymore either; I used the reasoning that he still commented all the time so he got to stay; when I finally did take Dunph out, then Dunph was mad. So to avoid getting yelled at again, I just put them both back in. So there they are; don't bother clicking on them if you already have in the last 8 months, they haven't updated. Whatever.

However, there are couple of new additions to the batting order: BeachBum, another Bostonian (Bostonite? Bostafarian? San Diego-ans? San Diego-ites? San Diego-uns? San Dieg-ons? San Diegans?...he's from Boston) who has been a mainstay in the comments for quite a while now; and Cheese, who was a mainstay at Culligan parties back in the day. They do update. Give them a clickarooski.

After the impromptu episode of PTI that just broke out between me and Dunph (which has been going on since 2nd grade, although I'm fairly certain we weren't calling each other 'dipshit' and 'cum guzzler' back then) I figured that this would be as good a time as any to say that I'm not just some know-it-all that can't admit when he's wrong. In fact, I can think of the dumbest sports-related things I've ever said, right off the top of my head....

"The Vikings were stupid to trade Daunte Culpepper"

I staked my credibility, my fantasy team, and my wallet on this prediction before the '06 season. All 3 were in shambles just a couple months later. Here is my exact quote on Culpepper, from The Slice a year and a half ago.

First off, my biggest rant of this offseason: Daunte Culpepper is still good. He had 6 (six!) bad games last year. I am with you, they weren't just bad, they were terrible. But that's it. Six games. The year before that, he had arguably the 3rd best season in NFL history for quarterbacks. Except Peyton Manning had the best one ever, so Daunte flew under the radar. But all it took were those six shitty games last year, and everyone is throwing him under the bus. I don't care that he has the hands of an 11 year old girl. I've heard that before. I'll take the Dolphins for 11-5 and Daunte to throw for 3,500 and 27 TDs, as well as being the key to my fantasy team. I am firmly buckled in and my Dolphins bandwagon is pulling out of the driveway. There are spots available, if anyone is interested.

Holy F.

Here's Daunte and his family, solemnly leaving the funeral of his NFL quarterbacking skills. 1999-2004. RIP.

"Michigan St. only giving 3 1/2 points to George Mason is the biggest first-round gambling lock in NCAA tournament history"

I know that is an exact quote because I said it to at least 20 people that day. I know that NOBODY saw that upset coming, which diminishes the stupidity of that statement, but this one gets bonus points because a) not only did George Mason cover the spread, not only did they win the game outright, but they went all the way to the fucking Final 4 as an 11 seed; and b) I took a lot of people down with me on this one. Everyone who was with me in Vegas (Fundy, Noles, Dunph, Horp.) Everyone back home that I called and told to put money on it (Bergman, Ike, others I can't remember.) Even some innocent dudes from Arizona that were ahead of me in line at the sports book, who were perfectly content to just put down a little money on their beloved Wildcats....before my dumb ass convinced them otherwise.

Hey, dude, put up a couple more fingers, add a couple of zeroes, and that's how much your Cinderalla story cost me.

"I'm going home, I just can't watch the Yankees celebrate again, especially in Fenway"

I said this just before the bottom of the 9th inning of Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS. Jake, Ike, and I were watching at the Hub, and I had hit rock bottom as a sports fan. I've always been a pessimistic spectator, one of the things about myself I dislike the most. I'm always waiting for something bad to happen, plus 2003 had been pretty rough on me, and as a result, I had absolutely zero faith the Sox were coming back. Luckily Jake and Ike told me to quit being a pussy and watch, and then Millar walked, and Roberts stole second....

...and everyone knows what happened over the next couple weeks.

Thank you Jake and Ike. If I had intentionally skipped that 9th inning, I may be writing this from a mental institution, or prison. And not one of those white collar resort prisons, one of those federal pound-me-in-the-ass prisons.

"LeBron James is wayyyyy overrated"

I saved the best for last. This little gem gets more and more ridiculous by the day. I said this during his senior year of high school, after my expert opinion (determined after watching a couple televised games) was that "he has no jump shot, and once he gets into the NBA, he'll be the same size as everyone else, so he won't be able to just blow by everybody." Wow. Just- wow. I forgot to take into account that he would get bigger too; cause, you know, that's what happens when you're still going through puberty, and now he looks like a middle linebacker who throws up triple-doubles just for kicks.

Here's a picture of Bron-Bron throwing down as a high school SOPHOMORE. This is about 180 pounds of muscle (rough estimate), a couple of inches, and a couple of kids ago. Yep, looks overrated to me.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

The Ballad Of Carl The Assbag

A bonus Saturday post! I am just trying to get this out of my head quick before I forget some of the details. Here is the story of the assault and battery of Curtis the Altima. A fairly routine situation turned into quite the ridiculous story...

I get a knock on the door Friday night. Police Officer tells me some people have been "kicking on my car." I chuckle, grab my jacket, and head outside with him. This is far from the first the time that my car has been vandalized, so I'm not too pissed. (Note: this is one of the fundamental imbalances in my personality. A cop can tell me that someone has been trashing my car, and I just kinda laugh. However, if the same cop had knocked on my door and said "I'd like to inform you that the Boston Red Sox have traded David Ortiz and Josh Beckett to the New York Yankees for Derek Jeter and Joba Chamerlain" I would've thrown a gigantic shit-fit right there on the patio, and my entire weekend would've been ruined. That's just me.)

I should tell you that when the cop told me what happened, it sounded to me like he said "Some girls have been kicking your car." So on our way to the parking lot, we pass another cop and the two girls. The cop says to them, "There's your victim right there." One of the girls looks at me and says "Aww, poor guy!" Incredulous, I manage to mumble "Uhh, yeah" but in my head I'm saying "Fuck you bitch! What the fuck?" As the cops are taking pics of my car, it becomes apparent to me that he said "some girls HEARD someone kicking your car." Which explains why the girl had the nerve to say something to me. All of a sudden, the cops get something in their radio, say "We gotta take care of something, we'll be back." Umm, OK. After standing there by myself in the cold for about 20 minutes, deliberating on how cool it would be to jump in the idling cop car and take off, I decide I'm gonna walk around front, or go inside, or just see what the holy hell is going on. There is a huge commotion in the quad, with multiple cops, a party getting broken up, and a dude in handcuffs. I see the girl (referred to from now on as Witness1) who had said something to me earlier, and I tell her how I thought she was the one who had kicked my car, we laugh, and she fills me in and what happened.

Apparently, Witness1 was sitting in her bedroom, next to the window, when a white truck pulled up. These guys get out of the truck, make eye contact with her through the window, WAVE TO HER, and immediately start booting the shit out of my car. Are you kidding? This is when she called the cops.

There is quite a crowd outside now, so we all get to talking. It is quite the shitshow here tonight at the Reserves. Besides the car booting, there are about 3 parties getting broken up; some other dudes, fearing that they were getting busted next, frantically emptying their apartment of all their stolen road signs; and a guy getting arrested for attempting to steal the purple Vespa that has been sitting at the bike rack since August. We find out later that he was one of the dudes who had been giving my car the Daniel LaRusso treatment.

Another girl (Victim2) comes up with her side view mirror in her hand. I guess Curtis wasn't the only one who got roughed up. Finally, 45 minutes after my initial meeting with Cop1, another guy (Cop2) approaches myself and Victim2 and we go back to the parking lot, along with Witness1 and Witness2. As Cop2 is getting Victim2's info, fate intervenes. A couple dudes (Assbag1 and Assbag2) come stumbling into the parking lot, hesitate when they see us, whisper to each other for a couple seconds, and start getting into the white truck! Witness1 and Witness2 alert Cop2 that these are, in fact, the guys that committed the crime that they were investigating. Cop2 calls backup. Assbag1 realizes, as luck would have it, that he was blocked in by Cop2's car. Cop2 tells him just a moment, he'll move in a second.

This is when Assbag2 decides to get involved. This guy is HAMMERED. I'm talking like "Haley dressed up as Richie Tenenbaum, after 20 beers, a nasty fall on the Culligan roof, and a concussion" drunk. It's 11 pm, and he's rocking sunglasses and everything. He staggers up to Cop2.

Assbag2 "OK, we'll just, we'll just wait for you to move your car then."

Cop2 "Yep, just a minute, I'll move in a second. Lemme get this gal's info, I'll be right with you."

Assbag2 "I understand. I understand. I understand. I understand." (all of us are staring at him in amazement; I'm trying desparately not to bust out laughing) "I am under your jur-jur-jurissss-jur-jurisdiccctionnnn, sir."

Cop2 "OK, good. Now just wait a couple minutes."

Assbag2 "You are in con-control. You are in control. Youuuu!"

Cop2 "Yes, I am. Now GO WAIT OVER THERE!"

Assbag1 apparently isn't Special Olympics drunk like his buddy, and he's getting nervous, starting to realize that the Cops really aren't going to just move their car and let them walk away from this. Smart guy. Assbag2, however, sees me standing there, thinks I'm just another shitfaced dude hanging in the parking lot, and comes up to me. I decide fuck it, I'll bullshit with the dude who kicked the shit out of my car. He's getting arrested anyway. I'm glad I did. I will never forget this conversation, ever.

Assbag2 "Heyyyyyyy, man! What is UP?"

Me "Hey, BROSEF, what's goin' on? Havin a good fuckin' night? Damn, your future must be so bright that you gotta wear sunglasses all the time, huh?"

Assbag2 "Your future....pssssshhhh hahahahaha that is awesome! Future! I like you. I like you! I LIKE YOU! You are the fuckin man! What's your name?"

Me "Adam Banks, nice to meet you."

Assbag2 "My name is Carl. You are awesome!"


Carl "Hahahaha, Billy Madison, I get that shit all the time, man. All the time. Allllllll the tiiiiiiiime!!!! Billy Madddddddisoooooonnnnnnnn!!!!"

Me "So you havin' a good time then or what? Fuckin' Friday night, man!"

Carl "It IS Friday! I like your outlook, you have a positive outlook on shit. Welllllll I was havin a good time until all this shit started happening, man. But you know, shit can't always be-be-be-be-ummmmm......"

Me "Glorious?"

Carl "Glorious! I fuckin love that word! Yeah, glorious! It can't all be glory, man. Glory. And you know what you do when it's not glory?"

Me "I have no idea..."

Carl "You wait! You WAIT! You wait for it to be glory times again, man!"

Me, laughing my ass off by this point "Yeah, Carl, yeah. Glory times...Glory times."

And it goes on and on like this for a while. Pure magic. It was at this point that Cop3 came over to me. He tells me it's my turn to give my info. Here's the best part of the whole incident:

By this time, since we've been talking for all of 3 minutes and Carl has decided I'm the coolest guy in the world, he is standing with his arm draped around me like we've been boys for 10 years. When it finally sinks in that I'm one of the people whose car he fucked up, and that I'm going to talk to the cop now, the look on his face is PRICELESS. He slowly takes his Oakleys off, gives me a look of betrayal like I just shot his dog or something, and slowly removes his arm and backs away from me. While I am holding my stomach and trying not to fall in the snow laughing, he turns and starts "running." He could've moved faster in a motorized wheelchair. I tell Cop3 "Um, we've got a runner...." and the cops chase him down within 4 seconds.

So basically I give them my info, Assbag1 and Carl stick to their story of denial, but the cops assure me that they will be prosecuted. I'll hear back next week. So now Curtis has a bunch of dents, scratches, and a kicked in side-view mirror. But as long as the judicial system works for me, it was well worth it for the chance to meet a character like Carl.

I mean, how drunk do you have to be to go boot a bunch of cars while someone is watching you? Classic.

It was nice to meet you, Carl. I already miss you. Glory Times.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Basketball Jones

Now is a very good time to be a basketball fan, friends. Both the NCAA and NBA have title chases more wide open than the race for which toolshed can bang Britney Spears next. I just realized I've barely said anything about college basketball so far this year...mostly because I get nervous when KU is one of the best teams in the country and don't like to talk about their chances too much.

You know how there are the 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance? (At least I think that's what they are.) Well, I go through 5 stages of cheering for KU in a given season:

1. Guarded optimism: reading about the hype before the year starts.
2. Slightly dubious enthusiasm: when they're killing everyone non-conference.
3. Complete and total confidence: after a few good wins in conference, usually a sure sign a loss is around the corner: sure enough, I had this feeling directly before the K-State game this year.
4. Fatalistic pessimism: where I'm at currently: I think everything about the Jayhawks right now is screaming "3-point Elite 8 loss to an inferior team like Washington St. or Louisville."
5. Unbridled excitement: usually after they finish strong, either win or play well in the conference tourney, the whole atmosphere of March kicks in, and my hopes are impossibly high.

As for the rest of the country, there are a number of teams that have legitimate title shots. Memphis, Carolina, UCLA (the team that scares me the most), Tennessee, and Georgetown are all ridiculously good. Then there's a second tier of teams that is even bigger (Duke, Texas, Michigan St., UCONN, Louisville, Indiana, K-State) that are really, really good too, and I wouldn't be surprised to see any of them in San Antonio this year. Just thinking about Selection Sunday, filling out brackets, the CBS theme song, Gus Johnson screaming incoherently following a routine basket with 17 minutes still left in the game, buzzer beaters, 12 seeds upsetting 5 out, I think somebody just set the thermostat to "boner" in here.

I don't think that my excitement level for any sport wavers as much as it does with the NBA. Either I am really into it, or I can't stand watching it, and right now it is fucking ON. Gasol, Shaq, Kidd, all get shipped out west. Spurs, Suns, Lakers, Mavs, Jazz, Hornets, Rockets, Nuggest, Warriors, are you kidding me? The western conference playoffs are gonna be an absolute free-for-all like we've never seen before. 9 teams (Nine!!!) can win that conference.

The east is for the most part brutal, but Lebron is always fun to watch, Dwight Howard is just about at the same level of goofiness and excitability as Shaq was in his prime, and a Boston/Detroit east finals would be every bit as good as any series in the west (minus Suns/Lakers.) Damn those teams have a good rivalry going. Last night's game had a playoff atmosphere. Like I've said numerous times, if all NBA games had crowd and player intensity like that, I would love the NBA all the time, instead of just here and there. Unfortunately, a very small percentage of games have that feel. (Random note from that game: ever notice how when there's under 10 seconds left, home team down like 8 or 9, and they hit a three, but they're still down like 6 with 3 seconds left, a high-pitched shriek, as opposed to a cheer, goes up from the crowd? That's because the only people who cheer for those bullshit shots are the 13-year-old girls still in the crowd. Settle down, Suzy. Go home and study for your Life Science quiz, 3rd period will be here before you know it.)

All things considered, this spring and summer could well be the most exciting stretch of basketball of my life. Buckle up for a few months of fucking awesome basketball. Happy trading deadline day.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

...Or Did You Think I Was Too Stupid To Know What A Eugoogooly Was?

Just saw something outside my window that was pretty sweet: a guy who couldn't turn left when he was walking, so he did the little mini-spin that Zoolander does. I'm not trying to laugh AT the guy, don't get me wrong, because I'm pretty sure that he was at least partially handicapped. I was just laughing in more of a "That's awesome!" kind of way. I've got respect for the guy. Big ups, dawg. Big ups.

Have you ever tried not turning left for an extended period of time? It's tougher than you would think. I try and do random stuff around the office sometimes to keep things interesting, and the middle-aged ladies that I work with (I call them the MOM Squad) are usually game for it. Anyway, one day a couple months ago I told them about Zoolander and ambi-turning, and we all spent the rest of the day not turning left when we were walking around the office. It was impossible to do this without consciously thinking about it every step of the way, and by lunch we had all given up. One of those things where handicapped people are more skilled at something than us ambi-turners, I guess.

If anyone just read that post and would like the last 90 seconds of their life back, please text "orange mocha frappacino" to #6629 now!

"I can Dere-lick my own balls, thank you very much."

Sunday, February 17, 2008

That's Why We Pray

Yes Kos you were correct it was an MC Hammer song, and I think I'm gonna use his lyrics to title all my posts now, or at least until I get bored with that, which will probably be immediately after this one.

Got pretty hammied last night. We went to Brother's (holler!) which is basically Lawrence's version of El Roco, only with an increased chance of getting stabbed in the bathroom for wearing your hat backwards. They had dollar jag bombs, which allowed me to run around all night yelling "fuckin' jagerbombs" in a New York accent and pointing at nothing in particular. If you don't get that joke or you are a newcomer to The Slice, go back a few posts and watch the new haircut link.

Well everyone knows dollar jag bombs + Skye's friend Amy in town + Budweiser promo (free beer for us) = plane crash. It was Jud's de facto birthday, and by the end of the night he was stumbling around like a baby horse with one of its legs broken. What's a baby horse called? A colt? Whatever. Lane busted out his Techno Ball, which is pretty much the most ridiculously funny thing I've ever seen, especially when he starts getting strangers involved. This is gonna be a little tough to describe without any visual aids, but I'll give it a whirl: Basically he takes an imaginary ball and starts out pretending to dribble it, spin it on his finger, flick it over to balance it on his nose, back to his finger, holding it there while I spin it, etc. etc. Like everything else we do, it escalates, and pretty soon he's dribbling around the bar, going between his legs, around the back, and finding people who want to participate. A surprising number of people are pretty excited about it, and after a while, we see Lane out on the dance floor, standing about 10 feet away from this black guy, and they are taking turns freestyling with the ball and passing it back and forth to each other, being careful not to "hit" any of the people who were out there shakin' their tailfeathers. Unbelievable. Lane, you are my hero.

So by this point I'm doing shots, double and triple-fisting beer and skinny pirates, and I'm so special-sauced that the idea forms in my head that Kirk Hinrich's little brother is at the bar. I should tell you that I don't even know if Hinrich has a little brother, much less a brother that lives in Lawrence, but this makes no difference to me at the time. So now I'm stealing RaLynn's camera and pretending to take pictures of the girls, but really I'm taking pictures of Little Hinrich. Here's one of them. Should give you a little idea how F'd I was. Little Hinrich is the one in the yellow-striped shirt.

Holy, I'm an idiot. That doesn't look like him at all. This is not unlike the time in Vegas I was absolutely convinced that Doug Flutie intentionally shoulder bumped me by the blackjack tables in New York, New York. What can I say, alcohol is a hell of a drug.

OK I'm out, Jimmy John's is here to save my life, and I think Daytona might be starting soon. Random memory: when I was a kid, our church was temporarily homeless while the new building was being constructed, so they rented out a pavilion in the South Forks Plaza. It was right across the hall from the video arcade, and when the congregation would get quiet to pray, if you were sitting in the back, you could hear the "Daaaayyyyyytoooooooon-aaaaaaaa!!!!!!!" from the arcade. Awesome.

Hey how about that I just finished with a story about praying, thus making my title relevant, instead of just an MC Hammer reference. I wasn't even trying to do that. That's a little twofer for you guys. You're welcome.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Yo Sound The Bell School's In, Sucka

A few things I've learned recently:

I live off of Totino's frozen pizzas. They are the greatest. The triple pepperoni is my favorite kind, my homeboy, my pizza that I run the inbounds play for when there's 2.3 on the clock and I'm down by 2. It has been recalled since October because of some ecoli issue or some shit like that. The regular pepperoni is still being sold; apparently only the pepperoni in the triple pepperoni is contaminated, but that's a whole other complaint. Anyways, every time I go grocery shopping and I approach the frozen foods aisle, I get excited and a little nervous, and dive into the frozen pizza freezer, shoving boxes around, looking to see if triple pepperoni is back yet. It isn't, and I feel like someone punched me in the stomach. I am legitimately crushed.
What I've learned: 99 cent frozen pizzas hold wayyyyy too much importance in my life. For reals.

I just finished my season in Tecmo Super Bowl. As promised, I Cory Solem-ed that thing to the very end. Final stats for Ricky Watters: 11,807 yards, 116 tds. That works out to per-game averages of 738 yards and 7.25 tds.
What I've learned: Time for a new hobby.

I throw around the term douchebag pretty generously. Lots of people I consider to be douchebags; lots of things people do, I consider to be douchebaggery. Then I came across this picture of myself, taken a couple years ago (damn you facebook):

What I've learned: Ohhhh boy. I, too, am a douchebag.

The basketball referees for city league down here are absolutely brutal. Beyond description. I literally cannot find the words to describe how bad they are. Fortunately for me, the same crappiness they exhibit while calling routine basketball violations is the same crappiness they exhibit in handing out T's, so I have yet to receive my first tech since moving down here, whereas in Grand Forks, I most likely would've been ejected from a game or two for saying some of the things I've been saying to these refs.

Additionally, the drivers down here are the worst drivers I've ever seen in my life. The higher speed limits are irrelevant because NO ONE DRIVES THEM. You'll be lucky to hit 40 on a 45 mph street. Successfully navigating a 4-way stop with these idiots is a bigger adventure than the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
What I've learned: Some things that I thought were terrible in North Dakota really weren't so bad.

I don't know about you guyskis, but I've been kept awake some nights, wondering to myself: what would Weisser look like if he was an African American track and field athlete? Then I saw this picture the other day. Shazaam! Black Weisser.

What I've learned: What Weisser would look like if he was black.
Even though you didn't mean to...thank you, Tinks.
One bonus point to anyone who knows what song this title is from. Don't google it either, you gaybots.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Whoomp! Too Legit 2 MmmBop #5

A huge part of liking a song is what effect the music has on your brain. Sometimes a song just takes you to a different place, and that place makes you feel good. Ipso facto, you like the song. This is all well and good when the song is legitimate....but when this theory really earns its bread is when there are songs that are unquestionably terrible, but you still like them because of what they remind you of. I'm talking about terrible songs. Such as...

Too Legit 2 Quit - MC Hammer
Rapping along in Dunph's basement and playing Super Batter Up. At this point in my life (3rd grade I believe) if I had to memorize a bible verse for Sunday School, it was the greatest tragedy since finding out Santa wasn't real. Yet I had absolutely no problems spending an hour poring over the cd booklet, trying to memorize the tricky part of the second verse of Too Legit 2 Quit. In my mind it is impossible for a celebrity to reach the level of coolness now that Hammer had for me in like 1992. Impossible. I would like to think that Hammer and Deion Sanders are the Frank Sinatra/Dean Martin of our generation.

Like A Prayer - Madonna
One of the Sunday nights when Lane was bartending at the Hub and all 20 or 25 occupants of the bar were our friends, so we fired up the jukebox, turned on the microphone, and had our own karoake night. Nothing like screaming "Just like a prayer! I'll take you there!" at the top of your lungs with 20 of your closest friends. Really an indescribable feeling.

Where Is The Love? - Black Eyed Peas
This song came on at like 4 am during a road trip when I was the only one awake in the car, and just caught me at a very reflective time.

SexyBack - Justin Timberlake
During one of the Boston trips, T. Nels had this ringtone set as his alarm clock on his phone, so we would set the alarm for like an hour early, and jam out in our sleeping spots at Nikki's (the couch and the windowsill) hungover as shit, for 30 seconds at a time and then go back to sleep for another glorious 5 minute stretch.

Celebration - Kool & the Gang
I get a twofer out of this song: One of the memories is from the Devils Lake tourney, the night Noles, Dunph, Lane, Timmy B and I got plastered and effectively ruined the Dynasty. I remember this song coming on the radio at the hunting shack and all of us going absolutely bananas. I've got a pretty sweet picture of us dancing too, and as soon as I quit being lazy and scan it in to my computer, you better believe it's going up.

The other story is also from freshman year of college. Lane and I played a co-op season in March Madness for Playstation, and took our team to the Sweet 16, where we barely escaped with a hard-fought come-from-behind win, and we celebrated by boozing for awhile afterwards. That night at about 4 a.m., back in my own dorm room, I get a call from Lane and his roommate Logan. 'Celebration' is blaring loud enough through the phone to wake up St. Aubyn in the bottom bunk. Lane and Logan have decided to continue the 'team party' throughout the night and into the next morning, and we decide it should result in the suspension of our best player, X. Mullen. Of course, we lose our next game, and the obvious question is why we 'suspended' our only good shooter because of infractions from a ficticious party for a fucking video game that no one cares about but us and Logan (who would tell us to wait to start our game until he got back from class so he could watch.)

Believe it or not (and I probably wouldn't after hearing that story) but I was actually dating somebody at this point in my life, a time where stupid shit like this was commonly called "Tuesday." Sometimes I wonder about my friends and I, and that if we didn't happen to grow up with each other, we wouldn't have any friends at all...but then I just open another beer, unpause my game of NBA Jam and try not to worry about it. Celllllllllebrate good times, c'mon!

I Swear - All-4-One
Being in 5th grade, calling XL93 and dedicating this song to girls, in hopes that they would be smitten and 'date' you. By 'date' I mean stand next to you in the 4-square line.

Speaking of this song, here's how rare it is that ADawg buys new cds: If you go to his place, right now, today, and open up his cd case, I'd bet all the money in my checking account that his All-4-One cd is still on the first or second page, along with some Guns 'n Roses, and maybe even the Lion King soundtrack.

Mambo #5 - Lou Vega /Oh What A Night - Four Seasons
A couple of karaoke songs we performed in Texas last March. Apparently we did a bang-up job; as we were trying to pay our tab and leave for another bar, the entire place started chanting our 'stage name' and the MC made us do an encore before we left, which turned out to be the Cheers theme song. If you've never heard an entire bar chant "Jim Hammen & the Family Band! Jim Hammen & the Family Band!" then you haven't lived.

Apache - Sugarhill Gang / Jump On It - Sir Mix A Lot / Apache - Tommy Seebach Band
Just because this song is awesome. Every version of it. I listen to this song and I'm instantly in a good mood. I want this song playing at my funeral. And when I watch the greatest music video of all time, well....words can't even describe how awesome it is.

Dear Tommy Seebach,

I love your goofy "I'm playing a triple stack keyboard!!!" smile; your "You better believe I've got an 11-inch penis" moustache; that you shot this video in the open pasture right behind the trailer park you probably live in, and pretty much everything about you.

Yours always,

Jim Hammen

MmmBop - Hanson
Reminds me of the flood, which by and large sucked, but somehow has become sort of a nostalgic time in my life. No idea why, and also no idea why this song in particular became the flood anthem for me. Maybe it's beause I beat off to a Taylor Hanson poster a bunch of times before I found out he was a boy?

Whoomp! There It Is - Tag Team
St. Aubyn and I have karokeeeeeed this song all over the country, most recently at Weisser's wedding, to rave reviews. Oh, there wasn't supposed to be karaoke at Weisser's wedding? That was just the microphone for speeches that was left turned on while the dance was going? Our bad.

The most memorable performance was in Indianapolis one spring break, when St. Aubyn (who had already entered Frank the Tank mode about 6 beers ago) insists we do this particular song, despite the fact that the bar was about 60% black people. So we got out and get our Tag Team on, and as we're walking off the stage, a group of about 5 or 6 black guys approach us. I taste my heart in my throat. It tastes like red bull-vodka. Out of nowhere, they grab St. Aubyn and I and put us in the middle of a huge group hug, and tell us it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. Later that night we find out that someone had been shot in that bar just a couple weeks ago. Probably some white kids in polo shirts that didn't perform 'Whoomp! There It Is' at the high standard that we did.

Superfreak - Rick James
Middle-school line dancing. It's fannnnnnntastic!

"Forward, 2, 3, clap. Back, 2, 3, clap. Forward, clap. Back, clap. Forward, clap, toe, clap, kick, pivot. Right, 2, 3, clap. Left, 2, 3, clap. Hahahahaaaa....I'm Rick James, bitch."

Saturday, February 9, 2008

The Top 5. Volume 5.

Saved By the Bell. What a show. It taught virtually an entire generation of impressionable kids valuable lessons on being a high school student. It showed us how to pick on nerdy kids; date multiple people at the same time; unmercifully exclude others from your clique based almost exclusively on looks; throw parties when your parents are gone; skip school; intentionally give out bad advice on a teen-line; sabotage weddings; run up enormous amounts of debt on your parents' credit card; make fake i.d.'s; nearly get away with drinking and driving and wrecking your parents' car; brainwash the entire school with subliminal messages; find random people off the streets to act as your parent; and most of all, how to cheat: on boyfriends/girlfriends, history mid-terms, chess matches, radio contests, glee club concerts, beauty pageants, and probably more that I'm forgetting right now.

But what I'll mainly remember is the laughter. My top 5 favorite episodes of all-time:

5. The one where Zack bets he can cut every class during Cut Day even though one more cut means suspension

This one is classic Zack Morris. Only Zack makes a bet like this, against impossible odds and staring down the face of danger, aka Belding. A series of incompetent teachers, fake lottery tickets, chocolate-covered insects, and a protest by Jessie Spano and some other environmentally-conscious dude help the cause as well. Even though Zack loses the bet on a technicality (which is a typical asshole move by Slater, by the way, what a tool) he's still a winner in my book. Favorite quote:

"The crunchy part's the thorax. YUH-HUH-HUH!"

I know it obviously doesn't read well, but that weird laughing noise Zack makes is hilarious. And impossible to impersonate. My brother and I have been trying for like 15 years now. Favorite randomly awesome moment of the entire series.

4. The one where Zack has a dream about their band, "The Zack Attack"

I'm about 92% sure that some VH1 interns were up at 3 am getting stoned, destroying a bag of cool ranch Doritos, talking about how cool Kurt Cobain was, and watching TBS when this re-run came on. 30 minutes later, wham-o! Behind The Music is born. The lightning-fast rise to success, the girls, the fame, the prima donna star thinking he's bigger than the band, the break-up, the star realizing he lost his way, the rock bottom, the re-uniting, the comeback tour. It's all here, and narrated by the one and only Casey Kasem, no less. Man, their songs are just brutal, but somehow it flied back then. How 'bout those early 90's? Good stuff. Favorite quote: lots of them, but I'll have to go with the magical lyrics:

"Friennnnnnnnnnnnds foorrrrr-everrrrrrrr!!!! Always will be friennnnnnnnnnnds!!! Talkin' 'bout friennnnnnnnnds foorrrr-everrrrrr!!!!! Always will be friennnnnnnnnnds!!!!!"

And if that song doesn't get stuck in your head now, nonstop, for the next 6-8 months, then you're a better man than I.

3. The one where Kelly meets that college dude at The Max and breaks up with Zack

This one is one of the more emotional episodes, and could be higher, but I can't get over how they just completely emasculated my boy Zack is this one. In real life, after Kelly Kapowski confesses her kiss with Jeff, then breaks up with him, Zack would've immediately shotgunned like 17 beers, nailed 3 or 4 of the dozens of Bayside girls that were in love with him, and the episdoe would've ended with him stumbling down the street at 6 a.m., carrying a half-empty bottle of Cutty Sark, still wearing his Homecoming King crown, and yelling to no one in particular: "I'm Zack Morris!!! Zack Fucking Morris!! I run shit here!! King Kong ain't got shit on me!!!!"
Instead, he totally pusses out and promises Kelly his eternal friendship. A.C. Slater and Jessie Spano performing a goosebump-inspiring version of a Michael Bolton song while this is all going down is nice, too. Favorite quote:

"So do you like him?"

" don't wasn't supposed to be this way. Not for us."

"I thought we'd always be together, Kelly."

"Can we still be friends?"


C'mon, Preppy. Find your sack.

2. The one where the girls start a "band" and Jessie gets into "drugs"

Where to start with this one? Zack sending Screech into the girls' locker room to record the girls singing so he can give the tape to a record producer? Screech, dressed as a janitor, subsequently telling the girls he is Sinead O'Connor's grandma or something, and the girls believing it? Slater telling Jessie that pills are dangerous, and Jessie responding "Yeah? So is geometry." ??? The music video that the girls, now known as The Hot Sundaes, recorded? Your guess is as good as mine. And if you don't know what my favorite quote is going to be, then you obviously didn't watch this episode 62 times from 1991-1997.

"I'm sooooo excited!!!!! I'm SO EXCITED!!! I'm so...........SCARED!!"

If Jessie Spano was scared then, I wonder how she felt after watching herself bang that dude in the swimming pool in 'Showgirls.' Now THAT'S scary. Yikes.

1. The one where Johnny Dakota comes to do an anti-drug commercial, only he does drugs himself

The first thing I love about this episode is Johnny Dakota himself. He's supposed to be the biggest star in Hollywood, but he's like 5'7'' with floppy-ass hair and slight acne scarring. Apparently he was dating Kelly Kapowski in real life, and so that's how he got the part. Immediately the guys hate on Dakota, cause they see how the girls are in love with him. But then he is totally cool to them, and large man-crushes ensue. Then comes the big Hollywood party, where Dakota tries to pressure Kelly into doing drugs, leading to Zack intervening, and everyone leaving the party, their hetero and homo dreams of Johnny Dakota going up in flames. This is another unrealistic scene in Saved By The Bell lore. If, say, Tupac and Dr. Dre showed up at my high school when I was 15 or 16, I would've smoked every ounce of chronic they offered me, then stayed at the strip club making it rain with them until 10 o'clock the next morning. If Pac would've given me his jacket (like Dakota gave Zack his) I would've asked him if he wanted me to shoot Puff Daddy. Fuck biology class, son.

Then comes the big commercial shoot that the gang walks out on, highlighted by Lisa Turtle totally serving Dakota: "When I wanted to talk to you I couldn't. Now that I can....I don't want to." Live television audience: "OOOOOOOOooooohhhhhhhhhhh." If you listen real close, you can hear someone in the crowd yell, "Ohhhh shit, Johnny! Shit just got real! Face, bitch! Face!!!!"
Or so I imagine. Then the kids tell Belding what happened, and they shoot their own anti-drug commercial, which is glorious beyond words. And I'm pretty sure I still know it by heart:






"In one word, would I use dope? Nope." (Zack, you badass.)

"Hi, I'm Brandon Tartikoff from NBC, and I've got a hit idea for the new fall season: Don't. Do. Drugs."

Entire cast: "There's no hope with dope!"

Annnd scene. I look forward to everyone else's favorites.

I'm not even gonna try and call "No Homo" on this one.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Can I Borrow A Feeling?

Shaq gets traded to the Suns. Wow. I can't remember a trade that was so big, so unexpected, and so quick to happen from start to finish a week ago, when the Lakers got Pau Gasol. Hearing all the sports columnists tear into Phoenix right after it happened was an enjoyable time. Since everyone has to hear my opinion about everything, I thought I would give everyone else an opportunity to voice theirs, and I asked a random cross-section of people in my life what they think of the trade, with varying results:

Group 1: The uninterested/uninformed

Sweeney - "I'm not as worried about that as the Twins trading Johan!"

My Pops - "Shoot, hadn't even heard about it. I haven't read the sports in a week. Shaq's pretty cool, I guess." (my grandma, his mom, just passed away, so I suppose he's forgiven)

Kyle - "Not too many thoughts about it. It seems kinda weird. I found myself cheering for Duke against Carolina, though. It's official, I hate UNC." (side note: Me too. It was really, really weird not being pissed off watching Duke win. I still hate them both though.)

The old lady who works the early shift at Sonic - "Oh, hun, you know, I don't even follow that stuff. I do know who Shaq is though...HAHAHAHAHAAA!..........well, here's your Strawberry Limeade."

Lady behind register at gas station: Blank stare. I clear my throat and pretend like I didn't say anything at all.

Group 2: This trade makes me feel good inside

Booker T, the guy who is doing construction in our building - "Oh yeah, you know Shaq is my man! Y'all can just give Phoenix the trophy now!"

Group 3: I have mixed feelings about this trade

MyShawn - "Not sure his crippled ass can keep up with the up tempo game. However it does give them a true center that they haven't had."

Jud - "Is he done? What does he have left in the tank?"

Group 4: I hate everything about this trade, and fuck you for asking

Ricky - "reDICKulous the Suns got robbed but I hate the Suns so I'm ok with it. Shaq is overrated, he's nothing more than a 12 and 8 guy getting paid 8 mil a year, if he plays."

Amber - "I wouldn't want an 8 foot long ape who's hurt every week and can't make a free throw to save his 8 foot long dick, either!" (You stay classy, Schatz.)

St. Aubyn - "Maybe he will get off the DL and play some ball instead of acting like a pussy in Miami."

Bergman - "Suns are idiots. Shaq is done. Although I don't know if anyone wanted Marion."

The dude at the gas pump next to me, as he was getting back into his car - "Shaq sucks!"

DVJS - "Fuck the Suns."

So there you have it. Not a whole lot of love for Phoenix or Shaq here. The comments section is open for business. Tell me how you feel. Bonus points if you can name where the title of this post came from. Schne, you aren't allowed to guess, I know you know it because you and I used to sing this in the locker room in high school (no homo.)

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

That's So Raven

Quickly on the Super Bowl: Great game; the kind of game that reminds you why you watch sports, even when the whole world (myself included) has already decided the outcome. I am happy for the Giants because of everything Tiki Barber has said the last year (that must have been quite a workout, throwing so many people under the bus like that), but I don't understand how Eli is such a hero now: for taking so much abuse from the media the last couple years, getting out of his brother's shadow, and all that other hoopla. Umm, remember when he whined and pouted and refused to play for San Diego when they drafted him? He asked to play for New York and he knew (or should've known) what the media there was like. He was a baby then; I'm not gonna be happy for him now. I'm also bitter because I picked the G-men to win the SB last year and they sucked.

Went to Manhattan, KS last night and saw the Funny Or Die comedy show. A tip of the cap to DVJS for finding the tickets; I haven't been keeping my ear to the streets lately, and I had no idea it was even coming to a theater near us. It featured Dmitri Martin (the kind of quiet dude who uses the giant notepad with funny sketches), Zack Galifianakis (the dude with the beard from Out Cold), Nick Swardson (my boy), and was hosted by Will Ferrell (my hero.) The crowd was weak sauce (and I'm not just saying that cause it was at K-State, they really were lame), but the show was very funny nonetheless. In an unrelated story, Manhattan smells like the inside of a wooden leg, filled with rotten eggs and dead hamsters.

I tried my best to remember some of my favorite jokes....Dmitri didn't have a whole lot of really memorable ones, but a couple that I enjoyed:

"I was walking down the street and saw a really ugly pregnant lady. I was like: Good for you."

"Do you think there were goth kids in the gothic era? And what would people say to them? Hey. You look completely appropriate. Yeah, you fit in nicely with the architecture. You don't look stupid and lonely at all."

Galifianakis was surprisingly hiiii-larious. He was great in 'Out Cold' and 'Dog Bites Man', but I didn't know if he would transfer well to stand-up. He did:

"Sometimes I like to sit in a public place and read a bible to myself....except when people walk by. Then I like to mutter things like: Oh, BULLSHIT!!!"

"At what point do you tell a highway it's adopted? I say when it's like 7....cause that's about the time it's saying to itself: Hey, you know, I don't look anything like the Kiwanis Club."

"Did you hear about the high school kid who had sex with his teacher a couple months ago? I was on today and saw that he passed away. Yep, the kid died.....from high-fiving."

"You know how some people have gay-dar? Well, I have fat-dar. I can look at you and tell if you're fat right away......I also have cerebral palsy-dar."

Everything Swardson says is funny to me, plus he doesn't really have a lot of one-liner jokes, so I can't really retype anything here. With Dave Chapelle disappearing off the face of the earth, and Dane Cook sucking worse than Jason Giambi once he stopped taking steroids, the torch has been passed to Swardson as my favorite comic.

The highlight of my evening was in-between sets, when there was a special appearance by the man who quite simply changed my life, the one and only Ron Burgundy. He came out and bullshitted for awhile and improvved an interview with K-State's football coach, but I have to be honest, he could've just came out and stood there for 10 minutes, not said a word, and I would've cheered the whole time. Was it sad that I had goosebumps when he came out? I felt like a 12-year-old girl at a Backstreet Boys concert.

It's me, Papa Burgundy! Hi-yoooo! I'm very aroused.

Friday, February 1, 2008

Fearless Prediction

My Super Bowl pick:

Patriots 30, Giants 13

Throw your picks in the comment section. Winner just may receive their very own tribute blog!

I wouldn't say that I dislike Tom Brady, per se, he's not a bad dude, and he's certainly cooler than Peyton Manning or Philip Rivers. That said, when I google him, and out of the first 20 pictures that come up, there is only one game-action shot (this is an NFL quarterback, remember!!!), but there are 12 pictures of him looking either A) whipped, B) metrosexual, or C) really gay.....I'll just say that I'm glad he's not my boy. Kinda like Brady wishes the son he had after Bridget Moynahan pulled the goalie on him wasn't his boy. Whoooaaaaa Ba-zing!

But maybe I shouldn't talk, since my QB Vince Young sucks at things like "reading a defense" and "throwing." And I probably shouldn't talk since there is a decent chance I am the result of my mom pulling the goalie on my dad. Just kidding...hopefully.

Happy Super Bowl weekend.