Thursday, July 30, 2009

Movie Of The Decade

Recently, Simmons has been talking in articles and podcasts about his movie of the decade, which he classifies as best/funniest/most representative of the era. His choice was Almost Famous, which I agree is a very good movie, but I nonetheless immediately disagreed with, at least according to his criteria. Mine is Anchorman.

Although you could make the argument that Old School was the first in the ancestry of the Frat Pack of movies (and if you want to be really technical, Zoolander was the first to have Stiller, Ferrell, and a Wilson brother together on-screen) Anchorman was really the one that Billy Joel would say started the fire. In Bible-speak, Anchorman begat Dodgeball, who begat Starsky & Hutch, who begat Wedding Crashers, who begat 40-Year-Old Virgin, who begat Grandma's Boy, who begat Talladega Nights, who begat Knocked Up, who begat Superbad, who begat Forgetting Sarah Marshall, who begat Stepbrothers, who begat Role Models, who begat The Hangover, and on and on it goes.

The "every scene is basically a new sketch, and an overall connecting plot is only a secondary consideration" style of comedies that we're entrenched in right now was basically started with Anchorman. It also signified the shift in the source of where laughs come from during comedies. Formerly it was from funny situations or ridiculous characters, and now it's almost entirely from dudes bullshitting and improvving with each other. And even though older generations who grew up laughing at Steve Martin and Chevy Chase usually cringe at our style of comedies** it's probably not going anywhere soon, as long as younger people continue to turn these one-liners into their only form of dialogue (guilty) and these movies continue to line the pockets of Hollywood executives in the form of kids' hard-earned allowances (also guilty.)

All this isn't to say that the Anchorman craze didn't have negative aspects, too. If I go the rest of my life without seeing another intramural team/fantasy football team/sand volleyball team named The Channel 4 News Team, that will be just fine with me. (Side note: a couple years ago, DVJS, Abentroth and I played in a Gus Macker tournament, and played a team with the aforementioned name. They took it a step further though, personalizing the jerseys with names on the back: Burgundy, Fantana, Kind, and Tamland. You know the scene in Crash, when Terrence Howard gets carjacked by Ludacris, then they have the standoff with the cops? After all the drama, when a morose Ludacris is about to get out of the car, Howard looks at him and says in a serious moment: "You embarrass me. You embarrass yourself." And Luda just puts his tail between his legs and walks away. That's the exchange I had with one of their players after we eliminated them from the tournament. Except instead of just walking away like Ludacris did, this guy told me to "Shut the fuck up, bro. You guys are gonna get crushed next game anyway.")

In closing, me picking Anchorman as my movie of the decade is the most predictable thing you'll read all day (besides David Ortiz getting named in the steroid scandal. I've been prepared for this day for a little over a year now. Still hurts though. Still hurts.) The Question of the Day is: What is your movie of the decade?

***I know that taste in popular media is a basic generation gap, but you know what? The next time I hear some crusty, pretentious, old-balls movie critic hammer into a movie like Wedding Crashers, probably the funniest movie of the last 20 years, and say something to the effect of "I just can't believe what constitutes comedy these days! What happened to the good ol' days, when movies that were supposed to make me laugh actually did?" I am just gonna snap. I refuse to believe that Steve Martin represents the glory days of comedy. Oh my goodness! He's got twelve kids? TWELVE? That's certainly a larger-than-average family! And his daughter is marrying someone he doesn't approve of! And the new in-laws are full of idiosyncrisies that clash with Martin's family's beliefs? Awwwwk-ward! Hopefully somebody has a gross physical defect that Martin can make fun of, and fill a couple scenes in the process. And WHO is this wacky guy who keeps on driving Martin to the edge of insanity, even though he's an inconsequential character? Oh boy, I bet he flies off the handle and has a hilarious meltdown at a crucial moment in the movie, only to be reigned back in by his loving family, and ultimately to learn what it means to accept all different kinds of people, no matter how many shenanigans they cause in your everyday life!!!***

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn

Out of all the traits I COULD'VE picked up from my father (the strength to bench press more than 135 pounds; a working knowledge of power tools and automobiles; the can-do attitude required to accomplish difficult tasks without quitting halfway through; the mental toughness to get on a motorcycle without plugging your ears and closing your eyes and repeating the alphabet backwards over and over until the ride is done) it seems like the one I'm getting stuck with is the complete inability to sleep at night.

Similar to what started happening to my dad at this age, on most nights I have about a 15-minute window to fall asleep in- after that I'm screwed. (And Alex, always the helper, loves to fill this window with comments like "When we get a house, I'd rather have a fake fireplace than a real fireplace, so it doesn't get all smoky" or pressing issues such as "On Chelsea Lately tonight, they said Dakota Fanning was out on a mystery date with another actor- I bet it was the kid who plays Ron Weasley from Harry Potter!") In addition, once I do fall asleep, it's nearly impossible to sleep uninterrupted for longer than 2 or 3 hours. Growing up, I saw how my pops would sit up all night reading/eating/watching crappy movies on TV because he couldn't sleep, and I've never envied him for that. Mine eyes have seen the glory of my future, and it doesn't look promising.

The last couple of nights have been particularly bad. Sunday night was my fault; after drinking pretty aggressively all morning at our softball tournament, I took a 4-hour coma in the late afternoon/early evening, so obviously when I went to bed that night I was gonna be staring at the ceiling for hours....but last night, I got into bed around midnight, exhausted, but I still couldn't sleep well. I remember looking at the clock at 1:15, 3:23, 4:42, 5:21, 5:54, 6:19, and 6:37 before my alarm started going off. Awesome.

So now I'm a zombie all day and crabby all night. Thanks, Dad. Next time just give me the gene that enables me to see a dead raccoon on the side of the road without breaking into tears and calling Mom at work to ask her if she thinks there's a Heaven especially made for animals.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Real Talk

I spent most of my lunch break today at my desk, reading the last half of Caddy For Life: the Bruce Edwards Story, and holy crap. I had to go into emergency "I'm watching a movie with a girl whose boobies I hope to touch later on tonight, so I can't start crying when Bubba dies in Forrest Gump's arms in Vietnam" mode.

I'm kind of a softie when it comes to movies; I've cried more than once in my life due to the events of a cinematic adventure (not that this is a movie, but it's worth mentioning that I bawled my eyes out in downtown Lawrence, while celebrating amongst 100,000 people, when KU won the national championship.) If it wasn't for the aforementioned emergency mode I use while watching a sad movie with a girl- pretending to still pay attention, but really looking just to the right of the TV and humming songs in my head while thinking about baseball and action movies- I think the number of movies that make me cry would be bigger (this might be a bad time to mention this, but DVJS: could I get The Cutting Edge back from you? I think I lent it to Hannah and then kinda forgot about it.)

However, this was definitely a first for me. I had never really come close to crying while reading a book before (except when Dumbledore died, OMG I lost my shit then) but when they got to the part where Tom Watson, at age 53, shot a 65 to take the lead in the 2003 US Open, shortly after Edwards had been diagnosed with ALS....I was struggling to compose myself.

I highly recommend this book to any golf fan- just don't read the last 100 pages in front of a girl you wanna bang someday. Unless they happen to like the sensitive type.

Thursday, July 23, 2009


And I mean Blahhhhh in the ''I'm having kind of a crappy week'' way, not in the ''I'm a rapper in the background of a Ludacris song, just makin' awesome noises'' way.

It's been cloudy or raining most the week, which normally I don't mind, I've always wanted to live in Seattle or Portland.....but when I'm already borderline crabby, I need the sunshine.

I'm reading a book about Bruce Edwards (Tom Watson's former caddy) which isn't exactly the happiest book in the world, as it details his battle with ALS.

My golf game is in the shitter. My parents were in town last weekend, and both my dad and I played terrrrrrible on Sunday. The only way we could've been worse is if we were Tom Watson in the British Open playoff (too soon?) Every single minute I've spent working on my driver for the last ten years has been completely and totally worthless. Right now I'm hitting my driver, a $300 Great Big Bertha, no better than I hit my $40 'Devestator' that I bought from Sam's Club when I was 14 years old. Maybe even worse. Is there a more frustrating sport than golf? Robin Williams sums it up well. (NSFW, ol' Mrs. Doubtfire drops the F bomb like it's his job.)

The Red Sox are slumping, which isn't allowed when you play in the same division as the Yankees, Rays, and a 4th place team (Toronto) that would probably win the NL Central. The Sox gave up their lead in the AL East faster than you can say "We've got 7 capable starting pitchers, can we maybe trade one of them for another bat to help out the clearly struggling lineup?"

I can't find the Erin Andrews video because the Internet Police, in conjunction with the ESPN lawyers, confiscated it too fast. I've even resorted to asking Alex if her trashy celebrity gossip websites have anything, which goes against everything I believe in. And still nothing. What's going on, Internet? If one was so inclined, one could find sex tapes of Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, fill-in-the-stupid-ugly-pseudo-celebrity-here without even breaking a sweat, but the hottest girl on the planet gets videotaped naked in her hotel, and we can't get a glimpse ANYWHERE? Where is the justice?

And to top it off, lately I've been woken up by really, really bizarre or scary dreams, and had trouble falling back asleep. Some of them are just weird- like an, um, erotic dream with Tracey Gold that takes place on set of the filming of the music video for 'Renegade' by Styx. OK, the Styx part is easily explainable, they're the greatest American rock band in history, and the only reason they get a bad rap is because most critics are cynical assholes...but Tracey Gold? I never even watched Growing Pains, and she certainly isn't hot. You tell me. Some of them are scary, like John Malkovich breaking into our apartment and nailing my hands to the wall because I stole something from him, while my 7th grade homeroom teacher looks on. Some of them are so vivid, I end up getting out of bed at 4:30 a.m. because I've convinced myself that I have to go to work early in order to leave early to catch my flight....because Brother scored some US Open tickets? Seriously, I went and drank a big glass of water, went to my room and grabbed my towel, and was literally stepping into the shower before I realized that it was a dream and I should go back to bed.

(Side note: I've told a couple of girls about the really weird dreams, and both of them replied with some form of "Are you on your period? I have messed up dreams when I'm on my period." Two things here: 1) No, I'm not on my period. My cycle usually starts around the end of the month. 2) NEVER tell me things like that again. I can't imagine a scenario where that information would be valuable to me, nor do I care to. Crazy women and their crazy periods.)

Anyway, I'm hoping that our softball tournament in Topeka this weekend turns my frown upside down. Either that or the Sox trade for Matt Holliday or Adrian Gonzalez.

OR someone finds the Erin Andrews video for me.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

I Want That

So while we were in Chicago a few weeks ago, I made a passing comment to Chelsey that ever since I was a youngster, I had wanted one of those semi-circle American flags that they always drape over the infield walls during the baseball playoffs (one of these, for the non-baseball fans.) And just like a Mom who remembers how one year in like April you said you liked Super MarioKart more than Sonic the Hedgehog, so she went and bought a Super Nintendo and wrapped it for Christmas***, Chelsey went to the store as soon as we left town, bought me a flag, and mailed it me. (For the record, if I had known that one could just stroll into Michael's and buy these flags, rest assured my bedroom would've been covered in them from the time I was 9 years old. In my mind, they were these mystical flags produced by Major League Baseball, that were unavailable to the public. I'm an idiot.)

***This is a PURELY hypothetical example. Yes, my mother was amazing at remembering some throw-away comment and turning that into a Christmas present months later, but NOT if it involved video games. She hated them with a burning passion. She spent the majority of my childhood on a one-woman mission to eliminate video games, like Tipper Gore in the mid-80s crusading for music censorship.***

Anyways, now that the flag is hanging on the wall and it feels like October in our apartment, I was reminded of other ridiculous things that I've wanted for years and years and never been able to acquire, for one reason or another.

Back in college, Schne and I were entertaining the idea of buying a short bus, with the idea that we could use it to drive around and party in, or just park it outside of a party/bar and sleep in at night. Schne found one for something ridiculous like $500, but we never pulled the trigger on it, mostly because we didn't want to pay insurance on it. I still regret that. That's real talk.

I would've definitely bought a Golden Tee machine about 5 years ago, I had some bids going on ebay, an arrangement worked out with Brother that he would drive out to New Jersey and pick it up for me so I could save on shipping....until I realized there would've been absolutely no way to get it inside Culligan Manor, what with all the right angles and low archways. Luckily I got outbid, or else there might still be a Golden Tee sitting on the roof of the Manor right now.

And the crown jewel of them all....the random thing I want more than anything in the world.....the wheel from the Showcase Showdown from The Price Is Right. I'm not even a big fan of the show, and I'm definitely no Barney Stinson or anything, but for some reason I've always loved that wheel. Love how it looks, love how it sounds, love it love love it. I've scoured the interwebs for years, trying to find a crazy guy who has one on ebay or something, but no dice. I would pay almost any amount of money to own one. Think about that monstrosity in Culligan. The possibilities would have been endless. (Or more accurately, there would've been one possibility: we would've spent almost every night spinning the TPIR wheel and playing drinking games. Fuck Macroeconomics class today dude, I'm gonna stay home and spin the wheel! We should probably go to Happy Harry's and grab a case first, though.)

I enjoyed this picture on Google because I'm not sure if this chick is getting ready to spin the wheel, or doing the 'Thriller' dance and there just happens to be a TPIR wheel in the background. I'm about 60/40 it's 'Thriller' dance.

Other pipe dreams: building a zip line from the Culligan roof to Charlie Brown's using a clothesline, bike handlebars, and a pile of mattresses; and building a gerbil tube to the neighbors roof using duct tape and a bunch of hula hoops (I think that was Kos' idea.)

So if anyone happens to find a TPIR wheel for sale, let me know. Until then, I'll make do with my World Series-style American flag.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Pretending People Care What I Think About Stuff

Stuff I've been reading/watching lately:

Delocated. I had watched one small clip of one episode a few months ago, and kind of forgot about it (somehow I managed to watch the only stretch of 3 minutes of this show that ISN'T funny.) Kos recommended it to me a few days ago, and after watching one clip, I proceeded to watch every episode on youtube until 2 in the morning. Absolutely hilarious. Kos is ready to put it above It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, which is a bold, bold statement. I'm not gonna go that far, but I was laughing HARD on multiple occasions.

Weeds, season 4. Very disappointing, in the sense that they raised the bar so high in the first three seasons, that's there's pretty much nowhere to go but down. Plus, this show is at the point where there's no good guys left, no redeemable characters to root for. Basically every character has turned into a greedy caricature of themself that deserves everything bad that happens to them. On the plus side, Carol Vessey from Ed made a few guest appearances, and is just as hot now as she was in Happy Gilmore over a decade ago. Probably even hotter cause she had some messed up hair in that movie. However, on a show where every cast member has dropped trou at least once, she didn't get naked at all. C'mon, I've had to look at Kevin Nealon's ass on multiple occasions, throw me a frickin' bone here. (Literally. Ba-zing!)

You and me both, Happy. You and me both.

Juno. I know, I'm only a couple years late on this one. It was decent, I guess; kinda clever, but I never laughed harder than a chuckle; kinda touching, but I never found myself totally invested in anybody. In the words of Denny Green, "It was what I thought it was! Ok? If you wanna crown its ass, then crown it, but it was what I thought it was!"

Less Than Zero. The book that put Bret Easton Ellis on the map. Pretty good, but depressing as all hell. You can file it under "Forms of media that should be implemented into schools to discourage children from doing drugs" along with the movie Requiem for a Dream, and the Rick James interview from the deleted scenes of Chappelle Show.

The Long Walk and Running Man. I'd been meaning to read these for a long time now, and I finally got around to it. When Stephen King writes a clunker, it's REALLY bad, but when it's good, it's REALLY good, and these books fall under the latter for me. I'm gonna leave it at that, because I'm kidding myself if I think that anyone cares about book recommendations. I'd venture that 80% of my friends haven't opened a book since college. Maybe 85%.

Taken. Phenomenal movie. 10 years ago Liam Neeson was in Star Wars, so I guess he'll always get free pancakes at my house- but beyond that, he was The Man in this movie. He was really rockin' the shit. I won't say anything to spoil it, but there are a few unpredictable scenes that really separate it from the typical movie of this genre.

Notorious. I only rented this because the movie I wanted was gone, and there was a line developing at the RedBox and I was panicking. The sentence that best sums up my feelings is: I'm glad that I only paid $1.08 for it. Two things bother me about this movie:

1) In real life, Biggie's mom has a huuuuge Jamaican accent. At the beginning of the movie, 'golden globe-winning actress' Angela Bassett talks completely normal, no accent to be found. I was bitching to Alex about it, because Mama Notorious possesses one of my all-time favorite voices. Then, 75% of the way through the movie, whammo! All of a sudden Bassett is dusting off her best Miss Cleo impression. No idea why it wasn't there from the start. Maybe they caught it in editing.

2) This was unsurprising, considering it's a movie celebrating Notorious BIG, produced by his friends and family, yada yada yada...but still, I hated the way they pinned all the blame for the west coast/east coast rap war on Tupac. They made him look like an unhinged malcontent, and made Biggie look like a saint, when the facts don't support that at all. What a load of shit. Suck my nuts, Puff Daddy.**

**Written by an west coast rap-loving, sometimes irrational conspiracy theorist who believes Tupac is still alive. So do what you will with this paragraph.

Happy Friday. Remember kids, don't drink and drive, and click it or law enforcement will ticket.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Do You Know Why They Call It A Royale With Cheese?

>> So once again, our city league basketball team played for the championship last night, the 4th season in a row we played the same team for the title, going 0-3 against them the previous title games. Our rivals are just dirty old men too, the kind of guys who jab you in the stomach and step on your feet when you take jump shots; and set screens by throwing a forearm in your chest, then get pissed and bitch at the refs when you shove them back to fight through the pick.

If that isn't enough, they scout us during the season, then bring in ringers for the title game. I've compared our rivalry to the Pistons/Bulls of the late 80's/early 90's, when the Pistons invented the Jordan Rules and played dirty basketball to continually beat down the Bulls, until finally the Bulls broke through in '91 to beat them and go on to win the title. To say that our rivalry is heated would be a huge understatement. Anyway, I thought last night was finally gonna be our night, and this would be me after the game.....

But instead, down three with eight seconds left, I get fouled on a three-pointer, make the first two, back-rim the third and we lose. So instead of tears of celebration, it was more like this....

And so we wait until next season. Again. FML.

>> Bergman, Jonye, Jud and I did a British Open draft yesterday, five golfers each, lowest cumulative score per team wins. I got stuck with the 4th pick, but came away with a team I'm pretty happy with (besides losing out on Ian Poulter- I wanted him worse than Wendy, that obese girl with the good personality, wanted Zack when they were auctioning off the boys of Bayside for the big dance): Sergio Garcia, Lee Westwood, Hunter Mahan, Paul Casey, and Justin Rose.

The only reason I mention this is to say that it was a lot of fun to draft, and to let everyone know we're gonna do it again for the PGA Championship in a month. We just kinda threw this together last minute, but we're gonna plan it out next time and hope to have a larger pool of contestants. Get your 20 bucks ready now.

>> I received this from Schatz this morning, and she immediately takes the clubhouse lead for texty of the year:

ps... i'm like the creepy guy your parents warned you about on the internet right now... i'm hungover, reek of cigarettes and am typing online without any pants on

Happy Wednesday.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

The Top 5. Volume 10.

Idea stolen from Schneweis. My favorite songs over 7 minutes long.

Honorable mentions:

War Pigs- Black Sabbath
How Many More Times- Led Zeppelin
Blinded by the Light- Manfred Mann
Can't Kick the Habit- Spin Doctors
The Breaks- Kurtis Blow
You Can't Always Get What You Want- Rolling Stones
Layla- Derek & the Dominos

Second five (My Sc2 line if this was NHL '94 for Sega)

10. Living for the City- Stevie Wonder
9. Sinner Man- Nina Simone
8. Foreplay/Long Time- Boston
7. White Lines- Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five
6. Bat Out of Hell- Meatloaf

Top five (Sc1)

5. Hurricane- Bob Dylan. A huge staple during the summer before my senior year of high school, when I started listening to a lot of classic rock, playing frisbee golf, and kicking hackeysack while watching Haley attempt to teach himself how to skateboard. A lot of the music that I listened to during this phase has since fallen by the wayside (especially Dylan) but this song has stuck with me. Besides being a great song, it tells a great story.

4. Shake Your Body Down to the Ground- The Jacksons. Not much to say about this one. Let's just say that if one of my New Year's resolutions was to spend at least 20 bucks playing this song on various jukeboxes in 2009, I'd have accomplished it already.

3. L.A. Woman- The Doors. One of those songs that rocks at first, then slows down a bit in the middle, then starts rocking again, and when it fades out after almost 8 minutes, it's in the middle of such a groove that I don't want it to end. It could be at least 11 or 12 minutes long and it would still be great. (Side note: example #132 that I have the simplest sense of humor in the world: the sound Morrison makes around the 6:10 mark sends me into giggling hysterics every time I hear it. I'm easy to please.)

2. Jessica- The Allman Brothers. Loved this song as a little kid when I didn't know what it was called or who sang it. Loved it more after Schneweis put it on a CD for our road trip to Minot. Maxed out my love for it when it was on Guitar Hero 2 and Wojo and I would play it for hours on end, he playing the lead, me rocking the rhythm guitar. It got to the point where we hardly had to look at the notes while we were playing. Not sure if I'm incredibly proud of that, or incredibly ashamed. Probably a little of Column A and a little of Column B.

1. You and I- Rick James. When I was younger, I knew of the obvious Rick James songs (Superfreak, Mary Jane, etc.) but it wasn't until the Chappelle Show skit that I decided to buy some Rick James cds and hear some more, when I heard this gem of a song. It used to be the song I always listened to on my iPod while walking in between classes (I used to tell my friends that if they saw me walking on campus with my bugs in, there was at least a 70% chance I was strolling to my boy Rick James, which I naturally got made fun of for- a LOT) and now it's the song that I almost always open my road trips with, as well as the #8 most played song in my itunes. Just 8 minutes and 5 seconds of layin' the groove and dancin' on the funk.

And yes, I was surprised too, when I made this list and realized that an effing Rick James song is my all-time favorite song of over 7 minutes. At this point, at age 26, I am what I am.


Thursday, July 9, 2009

"Now We Are Laughing"

Cast of characters: Kos, me, Chelsey, Alfonso, Katie, Alex

Last weekend in Chicago was, to put it simply, a shitshow. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much, and yet much of the weekend is not conducive to story-telling. Almost everything was either an inside joke, or something ordinary that became an inside joke. Some highlights:

- Before the Cubs game, Kos and I were on the walkway behind the bleacher seats, enjoying some tobacco in various forms, and some shirtless meathead came over and started a conversation that lasted approximately three minutes, during which he said "dude" around 15 times and "bro" probably 50 or 60 times, no exaggeration. Finally he walked away (after toasting PBR's with us by saying "Bro, yeah bro! Cheers, bro!") and as soon as he was out of earshot I said to Kos "That's why I make fun of people who say 'bro' so much, that guy right there." To which he replied without a missing a beat, "Yeah that guy was a fuckin' idiot, bro."

- After the Cubs game, we were at a bar near the stadium, and some really weird-looking dude in a cowboy hat starting hitting on Alex. Now, whereas some boyfriends would get jealous, or at the very least tell the dude to leave her alone, I prefer to sit back and see how she handles herself in these situations. Kind of a Laissez-faire strategy, to the people who paid attention in middle school U.S. History class. Anyways, he ended up grabbing her ass, and eventually giving her his number, which was on a tiny red card (it looked like he was handing her a raffle ticket he bought from a little league baseball fundraiser or something) which had his name, phone number, and email address on it. Sadly, we didn't get a picture of him and all his weird glory. So if you want to mess with a random stranger, his email address is No, fo' reals. That's his email address.

- When we got into our cab at the end of that night, Kos jumped in the front seat and had this exchange with the cabbie:

"You got any tuneage?"

"Well, I've got Rush..."

"Sweet. Let's rock it."

And Kos proceeded to turn the stereo in the minvan up to 11. I was in the way way back, grinning from ear to ear and rocking some air guitar (I love Rush.) Chelsey, Alex, and Katie were all curling into the fetal position and trying to shield their eardrums from the ear-splitting combination of Geddy Lee lead vocals and Neil Peart drum solos, and Alfonso (who hates Rush with the burning passion of a million suns) was screaming at me "This is my personal hell!!! I will NEVER forgive you for this!" Why he didn't yell at Kos (who was calmly sitting in the front seat with a cigarette hanging out the window) and/or the cab driver is beyond me, but either way it was one hell of a cab ride.

- And then Saturday.....well, Saturday can be summed up in two words: Wizard Sticks. It rained pretty much all day and night on our nation's holiday, so we basically just woke up, ate some breakfast, and started drinking. Just one of those old-fashioned, clock-in-and-go-to-work drinking days. With a twist: we were building wizard sticks, which basically means you just duct tape your new beer on top of your empties, and continue drinking like that. Which is fine until around beer #9, when the slight inconveniences begin occurring. Then around the #14 mark, it becomes a little bit of a process to take a drink of beer. At #18, you can't drink without assistance. What would otherwise be a rainy July 4th with no fireworks becomes an event. Needless to say, I highly, HIGHLY recommend it.

Wizard sticks in picture form:

Alfonso, me, Kos, Mike. Early in the afternoon, when our sticks were still at a manageable length. (Side note: drinking with wizard sticks all day opens the door for around 700 "That's what she said" jokes. Trust us, we were there.)

The girls, NOT drinking out of wizard sticks. Why do you hate America?

I am no longer capable of managing my own stick. That's what she said. I also ran out of Bud Light, and had to switch to Alfonso's Grain Belt. It made for a more colorful wizard stick, and once combined with the chocolate cake I inhaled late at night, made for a colorful fireworks show out of my mouth.

The cover for Spike Lee's new documentary "Alfonso Doin' Work"

So many good things about this picture, including Kos' corduroy pants that he wore for like 54 hours straight.

So as fun as the weekend was, it took a lot out of me. I am now officially in detox for a couple weeks. Big ups to our wonderful hosts.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Sorry....I'm Allergic To Ferns

I'll write about Chicago later, once I have more time and my brain is functioning properly again. I'll just say that it would've been one of the greatest weekends ever...if I was still 19 years old, when I didn't suffer from four-day hangovers. I think I've aged more in the last year, body/health-wise, than I did in the first 25 put together. Ridiculous.

In the meantime, enjoy these clips of my boy Zach Galifianakis on his talk show, "Between Two Ferns." I don't want to overhype it, but it's probably the funniest group of videos in the history of the internet. (OK but seriously, every single person I've shown these to has ended up crying laughing, including myself.) I just linked to the Michael Cera interview, and the rest of them are on the sidebar of that page. For my money, the interview with Bradley Cooper is the best, but that could be because I'm pretty gay for him. In any event, they're all hilarious.

P.S. so my favorite baseball player Manny Ramirez takes performance enhancers and gets suspended for 50 games, then my old favorite football player Steve McNair is shot and killed while hanging out with his 20-year-old mistress that he cheats on his wife and four children with....what's next? Brady Morningstar gets caught trying to boost 50 cars in 24 hours to save his brother from an international crime syndicate? Josh Beckett and Dustin Pedroia put together a crew and an elaborate scheme in order to rob the vaults of the Bellagio, the Mirage, and the MGM Grand? Phil Mickelson barges into a hospital and holds its patients hostage in order to get his son a heart transplant? Kirk Hinrich hijacks an airplane transferring criminals to a maximum security prison and attempts to fly them to a no-extradition country? Anything's possible at this point.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Chicago (Not The Crappy Musical With That Broad From Jerry Maguire)

Today we leave for Chicago, our makeup trip from last October, when I told my Chitown friends that we were coming, but then the Cubs shit the bed in the playoffs, and work got busy, and I was a little burned out from all the weddings and driving, so we bailed and all the Chicagoites got pissed at me and threatened to de-friend me on Facebook until I promised we'd come this year.

A few things are near-certainties for this trip: We will get special sauced at Wrigley Field on Friday afternoon. Hopefully to the point where at the end of the game I'll be singing along with everyone else in the event of a Cubs win. "Go Cubs goooooo! Go Cubs gooooo! Hey Chicago, whaddya say? The Cubs are gonna win today!" Look for me on WGN- I'll be the sunburned, drunk douchebag in the bleachers with his shirt off. Should be pretty easy to spot, there's usually not too many of those guys.

We will get burgers at the Billy Goat, my second favorite burger place in the continental United States. When Paul, Fundy, Rocko (and her bad-itude) and I visited Chels and Mike in '06 we ate there, and it was fantastic. The dudes working the grills try and shame you into getting way more burger than you want, yelling "cheeseburger cheeseburger cheeseburger double double double cheeseburger!!!!" at you nonstop until you give in. After the dudes finally coerced a double cheeseburger out of a confused/flustered Fundy and set their sights on me, I cut them off right away: "You don't have to sell me guys, just give me a triple with extra onions." Moral of the story: I'm fat. Top 5 burger jointskis:

5. Sonic on 6th Street, Lawrence KS

4. Some place I can't remember the name of on the beach, Corpus Christi TX

3. Margaritaville, Las Vegas NV (probably not properly rated because everything seems more awesome in Vegas due to the natural high I'm riding when I'm there. It would be like a pothead saying that Cool Ranch Doritos are the greatest food in the history of the world.)

2. Billy Goat, Chicago IL

1. Darkhorse, Boulder CO

Between Alfonso, Kos and myself, at least 70% of our dialogue will be straight up Chappelle Show quotes. Alfonso and I haven't said "Hello" to each other in like 4 years; when we greet each other we both just yell "Awwww shit, son!" We'll hold entire conversations in nothing but Chappelle, and the girls will react in their own separate ways. Katie will roll her eyes in exasperation; Chelsey will want to go buy the DVDs so she knows everything we're talking about; and Alex will laugh a little bit, although recognizing certain quotes will trigger fear in her subconscious, since I made her watch every single Chappelle Show episode, Clockwork Orange style, when we started dating. It's a prerequisite to living with me.

I'm one of the baddest mutha fuckas of all time. One of the best singers and one of the best lookin' mutha fuckas you've ever seen. Hold my drink, bitch. I'm Rick James.

Everybody have a happy 4th. Let's keep it real while keepin' it safe. Kiss the rings, bitch. I'm out.