Sunday, January 30, 2011

You Got Jimmered!

Hey, have you heard of Jimmer Fredette? He's pretty good at basketball, and has probably the most baller white-kid name of all time. He started making a name for himself last last year, and now he's completely blown up, as evidenced by 1) his general media coverage, and 2) how many people have started calling me Jimmer. It was only like one guy who started last spring during March I get multiple Jimmer-related text messages every time he has a big game. It's easy to see why everyone is falling for him, too. His name is awesome, he goes to a mormon school, his brother is apparently a "rapper", he's the best shooter in college basketball since JJ Redick, and the most fun offensive player to watch since Adam Morrison (although I'll listen to arguments on Stephen Curry.)

Also, at the end of the BYU/San Diego St. game last week, when Jimmer was done dropping 43 points, the crowd started chanting "You got Jimmered!" clap clap clapclapclap. And if you don't think I'm gonna start using that phrase in my every day are mistaken. I feel that the following scenarios are all appropriate times for me to exclaim "You got Jimmered!"

1. After being intimate with a ladyfriend. Or your mom.
2. After crushing a lunch buffet. (Last Friday's final total: 5 burritos, 4 cheese & onion enchiladas, two helpings of potatoes, and a chorizo & eggs burrito.)
3. After posting another 56-10 win in Super Tecmo Bowl. (Ricky Watters' stats through 6 games in my season: 4,671 yards, 45 TD's.)
4. In the couple seconds of confused silence after the Sandbar pulls the plug on the jukebox in the middle of 'Circle of Life'. Although in my defense, if you don't want that song (or 'Hakuna Matata' or 'Can You Feel the Love Tonight?' played, maybe you should take the soundtrack out of the jukebox.

In any event, I never thought that a nickname that my mostly redneck side of the family in Baltimore called me when I was a young'n would ever become a verb chanted by a Division I college basketball crowd...but then again, not all surpises are bad.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Keeping It Close To The Vest

The latest outfit mini-uproar I've been causing at work lately, following the whole striped-shirt with plaid pants debacle of a few weeks ago, is regularly sporting a sweater vest. Although it's the first time at this job it's been brought up, this one goes back years and years for me and the ridicule I've encountered.

I've always been completely unapologetic about sweater vests. I think they're baller, and not in a joking sort of way. I'm not wearing them to be ironically funny, like showing up to a party in an old school Starter jacket, or Aviator sunglasses, etc. etc. I'm also not saying I'm above doing that, just not in this instance. (This is where I'm choosing to mention Lane, who is currently showing up to our City League basketball games with striped Zubaz pants and a flat-brim 1992 USA Basketball hat as his warm-ups. Take from that what you will.)

I've loved them since around the time I became diehard about golf (1997) and always enjoyed when the Ryder Cup teams would bust out the matching sweater vests for the competition.

What Rory's vest says to me: "I don't know what you heard about me. But a bitch can't get a dollar outta me." And Lee's vest says: "No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see. That I'm a mutha fuckin' P-I-M-P."

So in the past, because of golf, I had always sported them over top of a polo, being ridiculed the majority of the time. I'd say roughly 65% of girls make fun of me for wearing them, 25% begrudgingly accept them, and 10% legitimately enjoy them. However, over the last couple years, I've also added this little ensemble to my wardrobe, the sweater vest over a longsleeve button-down. It has been met with roughly the same amount of ridicule.

This was the least-douchey picture I could find showing this outfit. You'll have to trust me on that.

But still I stay strong. I will admit defeat on the striped shirt and plaid pants; I thought I could pull that off when clearly I couldn't. I fought the fashion law, and the law won. (Though there were many good jokes at my expense that day, the best comment came from Jenna. I sent a picture to Noles of the stripes and plaid combo after it became an issue, and when he forwarded it to her, she asked him why he would text her a picture of pillows and curtains.) But I will never be sorry for wearing a sweater vest. My Law & Order: SVU is the Sweater Vest Unit.

So. Sweater vests. Thumbs up or thumbs down?

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Death Of The PS2

The other day my Playstation 2 officially died. We had spent almost exactly 9 years to the day together (don't ask me how I remember the exact date that I bought my PS2. It's weird.)

After a long and unblemished record, he began acting up a few months ago. One night last summer all we wanted to do was fire up some Guitar Hero, and it took about 15 minutes of trying all the tricks (cleaning the disc, setting the console on its side, setting it upside down, hitting the reset button at the right moment) before it finally read the disc, and by that time we almost didn't care anymore. I had barely turned it on since then, and the other night there was no fixing it. I knocked it around for awhile, my anger escalating. Then a little voice in my head told me to stop....he was already dead.

So now I send him on to the next life with a heavy heart. (And by that I mean I'm trading him in to the used video game store in town, along with all my games, and hoping that they don't try to test him out first. I only want store credit anyway, hook a dude up.) We had some good times together:

- Sitting on the couch hungover as crap and watching Noles and Horp play ramp ball for hours on end
- Watching Guitar Hero take over our lives to the point that we rarely went to the bars for a few months because we'd always "start out the evening" pregaming with a little GH, more and more people would slowly come over, then we'd say time to go out...only to look at the clock and see it was 1 in the morning
- Coming back to the dorms after lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays for an entire semester to play Lane in NCAA football-- in the process losing something like 30 games in a row, and kicking a hole in my dorm room wall once when my two-point conversion with no time left failed and left me with a 56-55 loss...that game still haunts me
- Season after season after season after season of Madden.

There's also a slight residue of bitterness, as well. How does the PS2 crap out after nine years, but my Sega, Super Nintendo, and Nintendo 64 are all still going strong? I think there's something to be said for blowing into the cartridge and console, rather than relying on a bullshit cd. Plus it seems like you have a lot more leeway to jimmy around with the old video game systems to get them to work. The best one I ever saw was Ike's old Nintendo. He had to take the top part of the shell off, flip it upside down, and put a 15-pound weight on it. 10 lbs. didn't work, 20 lbs. didn't work, it had to be 15. And then it worked like clockwork.

But I'm not here to dwell on the negative. The PS2 gave me everything he had for nine solid years, and I love him for that. This is a celebration, not a funeral.

Goodnight, old friend. Sleep well.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Snow Day

I don't know if it gets much better than a snow day. Yesterday was an equal mix of being productive (waking up at a decent hour, getting after shoveling right away, doing a little cleaning around the house) and being a piece of shit (watching Inception for like the 10th time in 20 days; starting a season in Tecmo Super Bowl and running for 703 yards in one game with Ricky Watters.) I hadn't had a snow day in years and years. I could be wrong on this, but I don't remember ever having one in college-- at least not an official one. I know there were plenty of days when we'd look outside the window in the morning and say fuck it, we're not going out in that, fire up the Playstation and grab me a beer. Did we ever have an official one though? All I can remember are the days when the National Weather Service would announce that it was unsafe to be outside for more than 5 minutes, and yet we'd find ourselves trudging through the snowbanks on our way to Gamble Hall because classes weren't cancelled. Maybe if Weisser and I would have ever finished our designs for the catapult system to get to classes, it wouldn't have been so bad. The preliminaries weren't bad, all the logistics were figured out. That's the hard part in a complicated catapult transportation schematic, really.

Also, I think I have the best-looking driveway in Lawrence right now. Jillian put some snow melt down before it started snowing (pro move. PRO MOVE) and I showed a lot of hustle, shoveling once in the middle of the storm, and once after it was done, and now it's bone dry. Seriously, it looks like there was a protective dome that covered just our driveway and sidewalk. I'm pretty proud of it. When I finished shoveling and looked up and down the block at all the shitty jobs performed by (presumably) Kansas natives, I gave a big Kevin Garnett-style "Anything's possible!!!!!!"


It's time to ride or die with the Green Bay Packers and my new boy, Aaron Rodgers. (Once I start making homoerotic jokes about an athlete like I have been with Rodgers the last few weeks, he's officially my boy. And I seriously will give him a handjob if he's ever in the area, I owe him that much.) I was in love with Green Bay while making my preseason bets, then kinda jumped off the bandwagon in the middle of the year when they struggled and Chicago took control of the division. Late in the year and in the playoffs I've been banging them kinda hard again, then the other day I remembered I got them at 9-1 to win the conference before the season started. So among other bets, we've got that in play Sunday. I was a little bit sauced last weekend, plus I was pretty hyped up as we watched Rodgers torch Atlanta, and I told everyone that if Green Bay goes to the Super Bowl, I'm taking part of my winnings and paying for a night of drinking for the whole crew. There's no way I'm keeping my word on that, everyone knows drunk talk doesn't count.

Doo, doot, da doo doo doot.....Go Pack, Go! (I've always loved that little tune, even though I've never really been a Packers fan.)

Tuesday, January 18, 2011


I'm finally learning how to say no to taking shots. Or maybe a better way of putting that is I'm learning how to dispose of shots when I don't want them. I can drink beer all night long and be fine, but if I do more than 4 shots, there is a 95% chance I'm puking sometime before the end of the night. Me and shots are just not amigos, I guess. Haven't been for years. I'm perfectly content to just get housed on beers, get in 18 holes of Golden Tee (actually I'm OK with 36, but I guess sometimes there are other priorities) and not do a single shot all night. But yet, almost every time a shot is put in front of me, I can't say no. I stomp my feet and complain a lot, then end up giving in and taking it. Similar to Ron Burgundy and the cat poop.

But now my new leaf is finally turned over. There was a brouhaha on Friday night, one of those nights when the Shot Posse (Katie, Kelsey, Lauren, or some combination thereof) is out and in full force, and there was a steady stream of shots being thrown in my face. And I was waiting until the group would cheers and throw them back, and then I would throw them in the garbage, drop them into empty mugs on the bar, hide them behind the Megatouch...anything and everything to avoid taking them. I think I only took one all night. And lo and behold, I still got drunk, but I didn't throw up when I went home that night.

The lesson I didn't learn this weekend: to stay away from four-team parlays during the NFL playoffs. Both weekends now, I've gone 3 for 4, only for the "safest" game of the four to let me down. Oh well, at least yesterday it was the Patriots and the last game of the weekend to crush me, as opposed to New Orleans pooping the bed and killing my bets immediately. There's not many things worse than losing a four-teamer on the very first game. I'm still pissed at the Saints.

Almost makes me want to take a bunch of shots.

Friday, January 14, 2011

The Top 5. Volume 15.

My favorite tunes from video games. (That sound you hear is every single girl that reads this blog simultaneously clicking the red X on their internet browser.)

Honorable mentions:

- "The Score"- Madden 2001, Playstation: this might have been the first year that Madden started using real songs in their game, even though all the songs were about Madden football. Later they would graduate to using actual songs in the game. Anyway, this song would be higher, but it has managed to do the impossible and completely disappear from the internet. I've been trying to get this song on my ipod for years, but it's nowhere to be found. If it wasn't for Bergman occasionally quoting this song in our emails or texties, I'd be fairly convinced I just imagined the song and that it never existed. If this song were a spy, it would be Jason Bourne.

- The song from Sonic the Hedgehog when you're used to be one of my favs, but it is currently my alarm clock music on my phone, so now I just associate it with waking up in the morning and it's killing it for me. My bad, Sonic.

#5. NBA Jam, Sega Genesis, team select screen: similar to how listening to 'Circle of Life' gets me fired up to watch Lion King, this song gets me fired up to play NBA Jam. The church my family and I went to for a few years in the mid-90's was in the South Forks Plaza, directly across the hall from the arcade. And every time the congregation got quiet before we were about to pray, you could hear the siren calls of various games (the ones that caught my ear the most were NBA Jam and the Daytona machine...."Daytoooooooonnnnaaaaaaa!" you know what I'm talking about.) Within 20 seconds of the end of the sermon, every dude between the ages of 8-14 were already across the hall, throwing coins around like it was our first time in a Canadian strip club. What the church should've done is sneak offering plates into the arcade machine coin slots, collections would have went up tenfold. So I guess in a roundabout way, you could say that NBA Jam is like a religion for me.

#4. NHL '94, Sega Genesis, in between periods screen:

Some of my fondest childhood memories come from playing this game. And when I say "childhood" I really mean "my senior year of high school." I was cleaning out my old bedroom closet at my parents' house over Christmas break, and found an old piece of paper entitled "ROAD to 5,000" and a bunch of scores listed. Apparently Paul and I were attempting to play 5,000 games of NHL '94, and documenting the score and star of the game for each one. Seniors in high school, mind you. According to the paper I found, we quit after like 27 games (probably because I was kicking his ass. In his defense, you give me the Detroit Red Wings and Steve Yzerman, and you're probably not going to come out on top. I don't care how shitty the goalie combo of Tim Cheveldae and Chris Osgood is.)

OK, this one's really from childhood. One of my best friends in elementary school was a kid named Marcus. We played video games together all the time, this game being our favorite. Marcus had an older brother Chad, who was probably my biggest idol growing up, because a) the whole younger kid/older kid dynamic; and b) he was fucking hilarious. He used to play against Marcus and I and talk mad shit the whole time, stuff like scoring with Steve Larmer and then yelling "Sound the Alarmer!" or else secretly turning the penalties off and then cross-checking and injuring all our players while exclaiming "Goon it up! Goon it up!" I would be in giggling hysterics, but Marcus hated it, and one time he threw his Sega controller THROUGH the TV screen and caused a controlled explosion-- an amazing feat for a 10-year-old. Soon afterwards, he moved to Arizona. We said we would always stay friends, then tried talking once on the phone afterwards but it was awkward (the only people I could talk to on the phone for an extended period of time in 5th grade were girls that I wanted to "date"....which really meant "refusing to eliminate them in foursquare, and maybe accidentally grazing what counted as a boob while watching Aladdin in her parents' basement") and so we never talked again. I've tried searching for him and his brother on Facebook to no avail-- and if Facebook isn't for stalking people you haven't talked to in sixteen years, then what is it for? I would trade like 75 of my worthless Facebook friends and their crappy Farmville or Ninja requests just to know what state Marcus lives in these days.

Three more thoughts about NHL '94 since we're here (why, I thought you'd never ask!)

1. The zamboni driver periodically waving to you as he drives by? Classic.

2. Did anyone else have such a gambling problem at a young age that when the game would show highlights from other games in between periods, you would bet your allowance money on which team would score in the highlight? No? Just me?

3. The legendary Ron Barr previews each game, like he does in so many other EA sports games from the early 90's. We were a wee bit obsessed with him, so freshman year of college, during his call-in radio show, we called in and invited Mr. Barr to my parents' house for Thanksgiving. He laughed and accepted the request (but I think he was just being a good sport, since I think he was genuinely impressed that an 18-year-old had just held his own during a 5-minute on-air conversation about the Cleveland Indians farm system.) A few weeks later, after he no-showed (shocker!) we called back in and started chewing him out on-air, and we quickly and unceremoniously got the plug pulled on us. Still love you, Ron Barr.

#3. Madden '93, Super Nintendo, main theme. I've got no stories for this one, other than to say that this little tune spent a considerable amount of time as my cell phone ringer back in 2007. Which is just as well, since I just put up like 700 words on NHL '94. That paragraph about Marcus was probably the furthest off-topic I've ever gone before. And that's saying something.

#2. NBA Hangtime, Nintendo 64, halftime music: The only one on the list that's an actual "song" with lyrics and whatnot. DVJS, Lane, Haley and I used to have mandatory dancing to this song during halftime of games in Haley's basement. No matter how badly you were getting killed in the first half, or how badly you were currently getting screwed (Jon Fucking Koncak has 31 in the first half? Really?) you had to put a smile on your face and break it down as soon as halftime started. Usually you didn't have to twist anyone's arm too hard; this song is money. And Angie, bring us down another tray of bagel bites!

#1. Super Mario Brothers, Nintendo, main theme: I've made the argument before that, from a certain point of view, this song has to be at least included in the discussion for greatest musical compositions of all time. How many people have owned this video game, multiplied by how many times they've played these particular levels (we're not counting the castles or underwater levels here, obvs) and throwing in all the times they've watched their friends play, or other random times they've heard it? The amount of man hours spent listening to this tune over the years is staggering. You would think that people would be tearing their hair out at the mere mention of this song. But you never do, do you? On the contrary, people always say how awesome this song is, after all these years. And that's astounding to me.

Astounding enough to warrant doing a list as dumb as this? Probably not. But still.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Hakuna Matata

A couple of Lion King-related items today:

I recently heard of a new sex term that is commonly known as either the 'Lion King' or the 'Simba.' (Note: this next section is not family-friendly. Hide ya kids, hide ya wife.) For this one, you spooge on the girl's stomach, then dip your thumb in it, and spread your semen-covered thumb across the girl's forehead while saying "Siiiimbaaaaa....."

If you want to then hoist the girl up into the air to present to all your friends, I believe that is an option as well, although you won't find that part in Urban Dictionary.

Also, is there a better opening song to a movie than Circle of Life? As soon as I hear that opening "Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!" I am so effing fired up. Over the years, we've found a surprising number of real-life public situations where it's totally appropriate to belt out the opening three seconds of that song. I think it's my favorite movie-opening song of all time, but I'm definitely willing to listen to arguments here....

Friday, January 7, 2011

A Pictorial Representation Of Why The 90's Were So Awesome...And Other Random Thoughts

"Yo Pac! Pac! Go back, go back, there's a ring box hidden in that tree! Naw, back further, son, back further! You gotta hit the spring board, Pac, hit the muh fuckin' spring board! Damn I knew I should've made you be Tails, he a straight-up little bitch, yo!"

Tupac and Suge Knight playing Sonic the Hedgehog on a, um, not quite plasma screen? Why not? Gotta love the internet.

>> Two random questions that have been on my mind lately:

1. Whenever someone calls your phone but has the wrong number, why is it NEVER just a normal, polite caller? Why is it always some jackoff yelling into the phone like he's never used one before? For example, instead of something like this:

"Hi, may I speak with Julie please?"
"Sorry, you have the wrong number"
"Oh! I'm sorry about that, thanks!"
"No problem, have a good one."

It's usually something like this:

"Nope, sorry, you've got the wrong number"
"No, sorry sir, no Spencer here. You've got the wrong number."
"No, dude, wrong number! This is Jim. Not Spencer."
"Jesus man, are you kidding me?"

And then the guy hangs up and calls back within 20 seconds, looking for Spencer again. This isn't just me, is it? Why are so many wrong numbers total social dipshits? I'm sure there's some sort of mathematical or sociological correlation that explains that it's more likely that people who can't keep a simple phone number straight is probably not a shining beacon of phone etiquette either....but until an official theory is presented, I can only speculate.

{Random story from over a year ago: one time I got a text message from a number I didn't know, asking what time it was in my time zone. I answered her question, a little confused, then asked who was texting me. The reply came back "this is your sister, you fucking asshole, why do you always delete my number?!?!"

I assured her that I had no sister, and she had the wrong number, and she apologized and cracked a couple of legitimately funny jokes, blah blah blah. The next night I was out at the bar, and saw that text still on my phone, so on a whim texted her back and asked her how her night was going. Thus began a peculiar relationship where we would text every couple months, just bullshitting and making brother/sister jokes. Then I got a new phone a few months ago and lost a bunch of contacts during the transfer, and so ended our strange (some might say borderline creepy) texting friendship. Never even knew her name- I just like talking to random people. Makes the world go 'round.}

2. As a male, is there any bigger insult than for somebody you don't know to call you 'guy'? Just happened to me a few days ago and it immediately put me on the defensive. I think it's a serious slap in the face. 'Chief' could be considered pretty bad, but Brandon Walsh always used to use it among his friends on 90210, so that makes it OK in my book (we all know that Brando is the man, let's not debate that.) And back when Dane Cook knew how to be funny and didn't wear Yankees hats around when he's supposed to be a diehard Red Sox fan, he had a joke where if someone you don't know calls you 'pal' really you hear 'fuck-pal-face'....but I think 'guy' is the worst. I'd rather you just called me 'asshole' and be done with it, guy.


Later Skaters, happy early Friday. Let's all go out and get the same girl pregnant tonight! (Probably my favorite Rafi quote of that whole season of The League.)

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Almost Perfect Weekend

Thursday night: got superduper high and watched Inception 2.5 times consecutively. (To say I'm obsessed with this movie would be a gross understatement. I only stopped at 2.5 because I had one of those "this is my life right now" moments so I went to bed. Then I woke up the next morning and immediately finished the third go-round.)

Friday: slept in, watched movies, played video games, and didn't get dressed all day until about 8 pm, or ten minutes before Hendo came over and we started hitting the bottle and playing MarioKart.

Friday night: got a lil' drunk, celebrated New Years' rather quietly with a few friends.

Saturday and Sunday: slept in late both days and watched an obscene amount of TV. A bunch of old episodes of Beverly Hills 90210, a full slate of football and KU basketball on Sunday, and both Star Wars trilogies. Holler at your boy when you see him on the couch! We only left said couch when we needed to get food-- of which there was a lot. Standard Sonic order for lunch on Saturday (mayo cheeseburger with no tomatoes, two chilli cheese wraps--regular size, not those weak-ass junior sizes they try to give you, and a 44 oz. Strawberry limeade) massive Applebee's takeout on Saturday evening, then a day-night doubleheader of McDonald's and Domino's on Sunday. Simply glorious.

My only goal for last weekend was to relax and lay low. I would say mission accomplished. Needless to say I'm well-rested for the new year. Also well-paid, all my bets came in on Sunday, which I'm proud of since Week 17 is one of the toughest gambling weeks of the year. (Also well-fed. I am fairly confident that 2011 is finally the year where I go down in a blaze of glory, suffering multiple heart attacks while eating two Chipotle burritos at once or something-- then using my last breath to take a big pull off of my large Coke. Don't bet against it, friends.)