Jump On It! Jump On It!

I will most likely not be participating in Halloween shenanigans tonight. I'd be down like Charlie Brown if there were some good house parties going on, but I can't stand going to bars dressed up in a Halloween costume. It's one thing to try and sniff random girls' hair at the bar on any random night (I've found Tuesdays are best) but when you do it on Halloween, when the girl turns to yell at you and/or slap you across the face, suddenly you become a lot more aware that she's dressed as Raggedy Ann (a slutty Raggedy Ann, of course) and you're in a full Jedi costume. Just a lot more awkwardness involved.

But if I was going out, though- I'm pretty sure my costume would be the legendary Tommy Seebach, he of The Tommy Seebach Band fame. Even though nobody would know who he is and I'd have to explain myself a million times (another one of the things I hate about Halloween: "Who are you supposed to be? Ohhhh that's hilarious/cute/creative/original/slutty!!!." Blah blah blah. Can we just get drunk?) it would be worth it, because of how awesome he is:


And if it was still the Culligan days, can't you just see Paul dressed up as the drummer in the background on the left? I feel like he could totally pull that off, as long as I gave him 18 months' advance notice to grow that moustache.

I'm sure I've linked to this a million times; since, you know, it's the greatest music video of all time (if you can even call it a 'video').....but once more couldn't hurt. I'm pretty sure that there's something in my DNA that makes me susceptible to the beat in Apache, and I've been subconsciously brianwashed. Between this version, the commonly-known Sugarhill Gang version, the Sir-Mix-A-Lot version, and the other instrumental versions I've downloaded (including one that sounds like it's being played by a bunch of Native Americans sitting around a campfire) I'm up to like six different types of Apache in my iPod, and I still can't get enough of it. Best song in human history.

This is neither here nor there, but a girl told me the other day that I should totally dress up as Terry from Reno 911 for Halloween. She meant it as a compliment, that I do a good Nick Swardson impression, but still...I don't think there's any way that being told you could easily pull off a homosexual prostitute who exclusively wears roller skates and nut-huggers can ever be called a good thing. But I'll take it.




Everyone have a happy Halloween. Guys, take advantage of the evening. Ladies.....keep, uhhh....keep doin' what you're doin.

Damn Punk Kids, Updated

OK so that kid making fun of me for being old is all in the past. Yesterday, in a scene that would have been touching if it wasn't so hilarious, he asked another co-worker, with a straight face:

"What's it like to wake up in the morning with a girl?"

The facial expression he made immediately after asking the question reminded me of Paul from back in the day, when he would start saying something, and before he even finished the sentence, he knew it was a mistake, and knew he was about to get made fun of for the rest of the lunch hour (and in some cases, well into the next decade.)

His second mistake was that there happened to be a lot of us in the vicinity when he asked it. So it's been non-stop ball-busting since then. Here's a sampling of some of our responses:

"It's awesome....until she rolls over and tells you that at $50 an hour, you now owe her $350. Cash."

"Well, you'd have to ask your mom how she felt about it, but personally I felt it was great..."

"I'm waiting to wake up in the morning with a girl until I'm married..."

"I wouldn't know, the only time I've woken up with a girl is when I've passed out in the VIP room at a strip club."


...you get the point. So basically, all the boom roasted points this kid had scored with his Top Gun zinger are now gone. Completely.

Stupid youngsters don't know anything about women. Poor little guys.

Being old is awesome.

Damn Punk Kids

So the other day I'm in the pro shop with an 18-year-old co-worker, and it's raining outside, so we're looking for a good movie to help pass the time. As we're flicking through the channels, we stumble across Top Gun. Bingo. I exclaim my excitement, and when I realize that it's not being shared by my counterpart (I'm an idea man. I thrive on enthusiasm) I stop and we have this exchange:

Me: "What, you don't like Top Gun?"

J-Sak: "Well, I haven't really seen it...."

Me: "What?!?! How have you never seen Top Gun? It's a classic!"

J-Sak: "Whatever, I haven't seen the whole thing. I watched some of it and it sucked so I changed the channel. Sorry I wasn't born in 1970, man."


Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. WHOA.

Now, I can ignore the fact that he said the movie sucked. As we've talked about before, Top Gun can be a questionable piece of cinema sometimes. However, saying that it "sucks" is a completely blasphemous statement. But that's fine, anyone who was still in kindergarten when Jerry Maguire came out, and whose first Tom Cruise movie was most likely Mission Impossible 3, probably isn't going to appreciate Top Gun. I can live with that.

However.

The part I'm more interested in is that 1970 zinger he threw at me. To my recollection, this is the first time in my life that I've legitimately been ripped on for being old. It staggered me a little bit when he hit me with it, because I had absolutely no comeback for it. (I mean, I could've unloaded on him for not knowing the lyrics to "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin", but that suddenly seemed irrelevant, considering the new direction this conversation had taken.)

I've been noticing plenty of signs recently that I have, indeed, been getting older: playing slow-pitch softball now requires a vigorous stretching session beforehand, even though I play first base; I frown upon shotgunning a beer before 10 a.m.; and I can watch the Nine Inch Nails video for "Closer" without having nightmares for a month (they usually only last a couple nights now.)

And I've been making plenty of jokes about it. Let's face facts: we're not getting any younger, and we've got the 36-hour hangovers to prove it. But it's the principle of the whole thing. I'm allowed to make fun of myself for getting old, but when those same jokes come from a senior in high school.....fuck that. It's like when someone is stuck in a bad relationship for months and months, and all he does is talk crap about his girlfriend, and then when they finally break up, and all his buddies are like "Finally, dude, it's about time. I always hated that chick, she was never right for you" and then the guy gets all pissed and starts defending her. It's just different when someone else says it.

So this kid just received his free pass. But if he even THINKS about talking crap about Cocktail, we're gonna have problems.



The number of top 5 lists I could do about this movie is just ridiculous. Best one-liners, best songs off the soundtrack, best freeze frames of Elisabeth Shue's side boob when they're swimming under the waterfall.....someday. Someday.

Kill Screen Coming Up, If You're Interested

>> Well, kids, the jig is up. 8+ years after I moved out of my parents' house, I am finally paying for cable television. After a year in the dorms, five at Culligan Manor (where the cable was free, cheap beer flowed like water, and beautiful women instinctively flocked like the salmon of Capistrano) a year in Lawrence where cable was included in the rent, and another year and a half of illegal free action....it's finally all over. Apparently they're running some city-wide door-to-door check, offering a free "amnesty period" where if they find you're hooked up illegally, they won't fine you, but your reign of free cable terror is officially over. However, I wasn't aware of this amnesty period at the time that the cable guy (sadly, it wasn't Jim Carrey) showed up at my door and started asking questions. There was a lot of "Say whaaaaaat?" and "I thought my roommate had been paying that every month" on my part, until the guy told me to relax, that we weren't in trouble.

So although it sucks that I'm actually paying money for TV now, there are a couple of bright spots. One is that we finally have fast and reliable internet now, so it takes roughly half the time for me to download pics of Selena Gomez; and two is that I have now entered the exciting world of DVR. A world I had been longing to live in for quite a while now. It's pretty awesome to wait until a sporting event is half an hour in (and yes, I'm using that extra half an hour of free time to google Selena Gomez) then be able to fast forward through commercials. Likewise, it's great to record a bunch of JFK assassination specials, then watch them all back-to-back in the wee hours of the morning when I can't sleep. (Side note: after I was a couple hours deep in JFK conspiracy shows, I started to realize that Lee Harvey Oswald kinda looks like Stenj. Has anyone made that connection before?)

I'm not making this up, am I? I mean, throw a Florida Gators Starter jacket on him and it's identical, right?

>> After what is now referred to as the George Bell Incident, which was all fun and giggles at the time, I thought that after a couple days passed, I would be able to text questions to CHA CHA and once again they would answer me. Bygones would be bygones. Unfortunately, this is not the case. They still refuse to answer my questions, and so far Google is letting me down- so now, hoping against hope, I'm hoping that someone will be able to answer me this question: what is the name of the song that plays from about the 34 second mark to about the 1:06 mark in the King of Kong trailer? Even though I said I was done pimping that movie.....seriously, watch it. WATCH it. Your help in answering my question is appreciated.


Also, this portrait entitled "Finding Waldo" is pretty awesome:

Apology Accepted. I Still Love You, Brady.

A public service announcement from my boy, your boy, everybody's boy, Brady Morningstar (FYI this was really written by Brady and posted in the Lawrence Journal World, this isn't like when I pretend that I'm Tyler Hansbrough and write something stupid):

Jayhawk Basketball Fans:

Recently I made a regrettable mistake that has let down my family, friends, coaches, teammates, fellow KU student-athletes, the University, KU basketball fans and the State whose name I proudly wear across my chest. I used extremely poor judgment in driving after drinking and violating curfew.

I know the consequences of my poor and embarrassing decisions and want to apologize. Every day in practice, Coach Self and our coaching staff talk to us about the importance of making good decisions whether on the court or off. I sincerely regret the "black eye" I have given to all of you who have supported me, the University, and especially Kansas Basketball.

Over the years, my parents and coaches have repeatedly warned me about the consequences of drinking and driving. I am extremely thankful that I did not hurt anyone else that night. I have learned an important lesson and I will never forget it. When you drink and drive you are affecting others on the road, as well as the people who love you and are involved in your life. Even if you think you're OK, getting behind the wheel after having any drinks is a dangerous and terrible decision. As I face the consequences of my decisions, I intend to be a good role model by my actions and hope that young people will learn from my mistakes.

I know how lucky and privileged I am to be living my dream and to be part of the best college basketball program in the country. Please accept my sincere apologies for my bad judgment and the embarrassment it has brought to our program. I want you to know that moving forward I will "represent" this University and basketball program in a very positive way.

Sincerely,

Brady Morningstar

The Babysitters' Club, Only With Fewer Twelve-Year-Old Girls

A couple days ago I got my first opportunity to babysit Finn Thomas Leedahl, all by myself. Actually, I had never babysat for a child this young before. It was kind of surreal (not to mention probably terrifying for Lane and Skye) to have a little baby be completely and totally reliant on ME. I mean sure, I've played 'The Sims' on computer quite a bit, and there was the assortment of girls that I roofied back in my college heyday, and one time I did pay a homeless guy 50 bucks if he would follow my every command for 24 hours straight.....but this time, another human being's life was in my hands for real.


This is my "Look Lane and Skye, everything's under control, we're just chillin' in the rain forest and talking about how I cost myself 25 fantasy football points by cutting Jeremy Maclin when two of my receivers had a bye this week. Even though Finn spit up all over my Dikembe Mutombo shirt I'm not too worried about it, as evidenced by the thumbs up" Serious Face.


Until Finn was born, I had never even held a baby before, but I got over that fear a couple months ago, so that is no longer an issue. Luckily I never had to change a diaper during my shift, and Finn spit up on me within the first 10 minutes, so we got that out of the way quickly. I mixed up a bottle, fed him, and let him grab a quick nap in my lap, and then we played in his rain forest and chit-chatted (it was a pretty one-sided conversation, but that's cool.) Anytime he threatened to start getting fussy, I would start humming the theme from 'The Office' in a very loud and very high-pitched voice. As soon as I discovered that worked like gangbusters, it was all smooth sailing. I look forward to my next opportunity to hang out with the little guy (and I don't mean that in a Tyler Hansbrough kind of way.)


Confession: I read 'The Babysitter's Club' books when I was in elementary school. Like, a lot.

Sometimes Baseball Sucks

Not a single thing has gone right so far this postseason, and I'm not real pumped about it. Not a lot of positive vibes coming your way here.

- There is still a large favorite player void in my life, left by Manny Ramirez. I love Josh Beckett, but it sucks having a pitcher as your favorite player. He only plays every 5 games, and even though the Sox are probably the most televised team in the country, I'm still lucky if I get to watch him pitch 3 times a year. Kevin Youkilis is out; while I love that he's on my team, I realize he's one of those Shane Battier/Derek Jeter type guys that you absolutely hate if he's not. Youk would annoy me to no end if he played anywhere else. There are some things I like about J.D. Drew: He's come up big in some pretty clutch spots; I model my batting stance after him (I know, it's only slow pitch softball- who gives a shit) and we've both had the exact same scruff on our respective chins since the day the puberty gods gave us the gift of facial hair. But the bottom line is that my favorite player can't be one of the 5 most overpaid players in the game, have an on-field demeanor that makes Dice-K look positively animated, and have a plate approach that makes Henry Rowengartner look like a free-swinger. Sorry.

"Step in the box, JD. You have to at least watch the third strike go by before I can call you out."


Jed Lowrie was making a move for the top spot last year, but has spent pretty much this whole year injured, so I don't know. At gunpoint, I guess my favorite player is Dustin Pedroia. That's not exactly a ringing endorsement. It sucks not having a "boy."

- The second distressing thing (and I'm trying to figure out if it's connected to Manny leaving or not) is I've completely lost that faith that the Sox would always come back in the playoffs; that same faith that blossomed so beautifully during the comeback in '04. In 2005, I was convinced that not only would they come back and beat the White Sox after they fell down 0-2, but that they would go on to win the World Series again- and I was shocked when they didn't. In 2007, I wasn't hitting the panic button at all when they went down 3 games to 1 against Cleveland in the ALCS. Then last year, Manny left, and when they fell down 3-1 to Tampa, I completely cashed in the season. Same thing this year. I figured the series was over the minute that Beckett gave up the two-run triple in the 7th inning of Game 2 (three batters AFTER Francona should've pulled him- that was positively Grady Little-esque there.) Even with Papelbon blowing a lead in Game 3, and giving up his first postseason runs in his career in the process, I wasn't even surprised, just resigned to the fact. I think it's pretty safe to say that nobody wants to see me revert back to my pre-2004 state, as far as cheering for my teams in concerned.

- The third distressing thing about the Sox: they have basically switched spots with the Yankees in a lot of ways. Back in the day, the thing I could hang my hat on (and quite literally, the thing that helped me fall asleep at night after I would get done watching the Yankees eliminate the Sox from the playoffs) was that at least I was cheering for the good guys. The Yankees were a very professional, very talented team. A bunch of guys who went out and played good baseball, but didn't look like they enjoyed each other's company. The old "25 cabs for 25 guys" philosophy. Meanwhile, the Sox had character guys like Manny, Ortiz, Pedro, Kevin Millar, Bronson Arroyo, Johnny Damon back when he was cool, etc. etc.


This just in: I still hold a grudge against Johnny Damon for signing with New York. A lot of things have changed in the last four years for me. This is not one of them.


Back then, the Sox were always playing loose, making up crazy handshakes, cracking jokes, and generally just having fun. Even though they also had a ton of talent (and a large payroll) you truly felt like you were rooting for a huge underdog, like the Bad News Bears, or when the boys from The Sandlot takes on the douchebag Rose Park Tigers.

Nowadays, the Sox are a collection of professionals who do their jobs well, but do it in the most literal sense: like it's their job. It never looks like they're having a lot of fun. And then I change the channel, and the Yankees are hitting each other in the face with shaving cream pies, and making up their own cool handshakes, and inventing the new thing on a walk-off homer where the batter comes down the third-base line and throws his helmet like a bouquet at a wedding and half the team fights over catching it.....and it makes me sad.

- I despise the Angels. And not just because they play the Sox every year in the playoffs. I hated them in 2002, when they had a good run during a down year for baseball, and Mike Scioscia was immediately placed among the best managers in the game for some reason. I don't care that you lead the league in going from first to third on a base hit. I don't care that you reach 3 million fans every year. Your stadium seats 45,000 people; you should hit that mark. Besides, in the playoffs your crowd turns into 25-35% Boston fans anyway. Two words: Rally Monkey. Two more: you suck.

- So now we have another situation similar to 2003. Back then, Fundy and I were gearing up for a Red Sox/Cubs World Series, which would've pitted Culligan roommates against each other (as well as most of the sports-following world) in an epic battle. Then Steve Bartman and Aaron Boone happened, and we both agreed to completely boycott every second of the World Series. We didn't watch a single pitch, and every time the highlights came on Sportscenter, we changed the channel. To this day, the only proof I have that the series even happened is the highlight of Beckett recording the final out, and only because they would show it before every one of his starts for the first couple years after he signed with Boston.

And now this year, instead of a Twins/Red Sox series which would've gone done down in history among my friends and I....my two least favorite teams in the world are playing each other. Whoever wins this shitfest, I'm unhappy, so it's time to do what I do best in these situations: complain about it, and then quit. Let the official boycott of the 2009 ALCS begin.....now.

"Proving It" And Jheri Curls

After I glossed over the fact that I have a top 5 list of dudes I would do for a million dollars, a couple people pulled one of my favorite moves and simply and emphatically told me to "PROVE it!"

Touche'. So without further ado....

5. Justin Long
4. Robert Randolph
3. Josh Beckett
2. Bradley Cooper
1. Ryan Reynolds- but only Smokin' Aces or Amityville Horror-era Ryan Reynolds, where he's got that badass beard. Not Van Wilder-era Reynolds, he was too much of a pretty boy back then.

Now to quickly change the subject and pretend that conversation never took place, and also because I'm on a jheri curl kick lately, here is my list of the greatest jheri curls ever:

(with apologies to Eric Dickerson, Michael Cage, Jamie Foxx, and Michael Jackson)

10. AC Green. A large contributing factor to why he was still a virgin at age 38?

9. Walter Payton. Let's pay homage to a legend. Plus, the jheri curl/headband combo: ALWAYS deadly.


8. Eazy-E. We'll throw fellow N.W.A. member Ice Cube in here with him, as well. Two of the most balla people on the planet in 1988, and this was what they looked like. What an era. Also, I want that 'Compton' hat for Christmas.


7. 'Superfly' Jimmy Snuka. Somehow the jheri curl is only like the 4th grossest thing about this picture.



6. Deion Sanders. Nobody rocked it more gangsta than Prime. Plus he would sometimes sport the aforementioned jheri curl/headband combo, before he invented the headband around the neck look.

5. Rick James. Cocaine's a hell of a drug.


4. Jules from Pulp Fiction. I misspoke earlier when I said that nobody rocked it more gangsta than Deion.

3. Rickey Henderson. When I originally made this list in my head, I had Rickey around the #10 spot. Then I googled him and found this picture. Wow. Just....wow.

2. Pedro Martinez. Gets major bonus points for continuing to sport the jheri curl, 20 years after it peaked in popularity.

1. AC Slater. Jheri curl + mullet = no-brainer for the top spot.




Happy Friday. Let your soul glo this weekend.

Let's Get Denarded

>> The latest example of Lane and I turning into a couple of eight-year-olds every time we have more than four beers together: we started texting one of those services that answer random questions for you (CHA CHA, 242-242) and giggling in delight as we ask questions in a series such as:

Who won the American League MVP award in 1987?

(after receiving our answer:)

When was 1987 American League MVP George Bell born?

Where was 1987 American League MVP George Bell born on October 21, 1959?

What spot in the lineup did 1987 American League MVP George Bell, born October 21, 1959 in the Dominican Republic, hit?

What jersey number did 1987 American League MVP George Bell, born October 21, 1959 in the Dominican Republic, hitting in the 2 hole, wear?

What teams did 1987 American League MVP George Bell, born October 21, 1959 in the Dominican Republic, hitting in the 2 hole and wearing #11, play for?

...until eventually CHA CHA sends me an automated message telling me that my texts are no longer being accepted. It's fun for the whole family. Or more accurately, it's fun for Lane and I, while Skye shakes her head in disappointment and Finn sleeps peacefully, blissfully ignorant of the fact that he'll reach his father's maturity level before he gets to middle school.

It's just a coincidence that the last two pictures I've put up feature jheri curls. An awesome coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless.


>> Here's when you know you love a band: when you attend one of their shows, they only play one of your top 5 favorite songs, and it's still a FANTASTIC set. The band in question: Robert Randolph & the Family Band, at the Crossroads in Kansas City. (Side note: Gangel, I don't know if you came up with calling Robert Randolph 'Big Show Bob' or if you got it from somewhere else- but I love it, and I'm gonna start using it.) Also, Big Show Bob may have officially cracked my top 5 'dudes I would do for a million dollars' list. But that's neither here nor there.

>> I vaguely remember the book 'Where the Wild Things Are' from when I was a youngster, but here's what I know now: those friggin' imaginary animals look terrifying. Every time the movie preview comes on TV, I end up in the fetal position, desperately clutching a pillow over my eyes on the couch. That movie needs an NC-17 rating, or I don't know what we have a movie rating system for in the first place.

>> I want to put this out here now, before Bill Simmons makes the exact same comparison and makes it look like I copied him (an ongoing issue for me; this would not be the first time this happened): Aroldis Chapman, that Cuban pitcher who just defected and is supposed to make Dice-K money this offseason (note to major league teams out there: don't do it! Dice-K and his lack of facial expressions, even after he just got done throwing his 91st pitch in the 4th inning, is NOT WORTH IT!) Anyway, this Chapman fellow totally looks like Kevin Durant doing an impression of Dontrielle Willis' wind-up. Fo' serious.

>> Twins/Tigers game yesterday, simply put: one of the best baseball games I've ever watched. Now your boys need to TAKE OUT THE YANKEES. Make it happen, cap'n. Let's see some more Metrodome Magic.

It Was A Good Day

But not like Ice Cube describes it.

I did not fuck around and get a triple double.
If I hit the switch, I can not make that ass drop.
I did not go to Short Dog's house to watch MTV raps.
When I asked "what's the haps with the craps?" I received no response.
The Lakers did not beat the Supersonics.
I did not pick up a girl I been tryin' to fuck since the 3rd grade.
The lights on the Goodyear blimp did not read "Hammen's a Pimp."
I'm not drunk as hell, so no throwin' up. But it's 11 pm and my pager is not blowin' up.

BUT.

I did stumble upon this video.

I'd always thought that laughing so hard that things came out of your nose was a myth, or only something that happened on Ren & Stimpy. Until about the 6 second mark of this video, when I found out it's entirely real. Sometimes I hate my weakness for Muppets and their big flapping heads.