The Rundown

Here's a transcript of last Friday night, not soon to be forgotten by its particpants:

Bergman, Sara, Alex and I eat dinner at joe schmo's. I start out with $1.50 PBR's with my turkey sammage. It's fucking game time.

We meet Lane, Skye, Jud, and Jud's buddy Dustin at Sandbar, one of my favorite watering holes in Lawrence. We have proven, multiple times, that it is impossible for us to drink there in a constructive manner.

First round of drinks for me: skinny pirate. This is the second time I've met Dustin, and it's been driving me absolutely insane trying to figure out who he looks like. Stay tuned.

Lane makes it clear that the techno ball is NOT coming out tonight (foreshadowing.)

Second round of drinks: skinny pirate. Make that a double. And a shark attack. The pilot just turned on the fasten seat belt light.

Jud, Bergman, Skye, Sara and Alex go play darts. Lane, Dustin, and I take the jukebox hostage. I am disappointed that there is no Wu-Tang among the selections. There is, however, Apache by the Sugarhill Gang. You better believe that is getting played, and quick.

Third round of drinks: two double skinny pirates and a shark attack. Hey, if I'm going up to the bar, I might as well maximize my trip, right?

I jokingly brag to Dustin that I have a pretty bad-ass dance for Apache. He tells me to prove it. I tell him I will if it plays again that night...(foreshadowing.) He also has a Wu-Tang background set for his phone. Word up.

Bergman wanders over from the dart board with darts in hand. He offers me three chances to hit the board from where I stand by the bar (about 25 feet, a couple of stairs, and a doorway stand between me and the dart board.) $100 a throw. Forgetting about the time when I was 17 and a carney took $180 from me, 5 bucks at a time, I am ready to accept. The bartender, sensing what was going on, assures us that won't be necessary. Would the bar be liable if I plugged an innocent patron in the forehead with a dart? C'mon, I was three-time all state. I can put those darts wherever I want. I'll make it rain in here.

Next round of tasties: two double skinny pirates, a shark attack, and a beer. It's a slippery downhill slope, friends...and I'm on a double black diamond tonight.

I play The Macarena on the jukebox, then immediately announce to the entire bar when it comes on that it was Lane who played it. Everyone turns on him. I start a "It's all your fault!" chant, which is always fun. I am delighted by this, as it is precisely the kind of stunt that Lane would pull on me. I am running around the bar now, telling any stranger that would listen that I "out-Laned Lane." Sara, Alex, and Skye stand on their bench and dance to some dumb Hurricane theme song that sucks. They give you directions on the TV screen on how the moves go, but that shit is harder than Dance Dance Revolution.

Shazam! I finally realize who Dustin reminds me of: Billy Madison's third grade buddy, the one who pees his pants on the field trip. Now all I have to do is make it through the night without pointing at him and yelling "You had an accident? What's that supposed to- GOOO!!!!"


Apache comes on again, somehow. I turn on Dustin, "What the fuck! Are you kidding me?" He reminds me that I am the one who re-played it. Bergman and I dance Apache. Video is taken....as is my self-respect.


We discover that Jud currently has a challenge going where he must get laid before his roommate. He tells us any help is welcome, and he, um, won't be too picky tonight. Not 3 minutes later I plop myself down at a table of about 8 moms, out celebrating one of the ladies' 38th birthday. My opening line: "Raise your hand if you want to be shamelessly flirted with by a guy at least 12 years younger than any of you!" The two ladies nearest me raise their hands. Gaaaaame oooooooon!!!! Inside my head, Wayne and Garth are dragging the hockey net into the street.


A few minutes later Lane and Jud wander by and try to inject themselves into the group. Not right now, chief. I'm in the fuckin' zone. Then I remember I am only doing this to get Jud laid, and my girlfriend is less than 20 feet away. I let Jud take over.


Behind the bar is a surfboard with three shot glasses glued to it. Apparently they are called "shot-skis." Lane, Bergman, and I do one of those. And another. And another. I'm now drinking vodka beers for the first time since freshman year, on top of everything else.




Skye's purse is starting to rattle on the table a little bit. Could that be.....techno ball? I thought that wasn't coming out tonight? I just lost a buck. To myself.

I participate minimally in techno ball. Between our group and all the randoms that want a part of the madness, things are in good hands. I begin unabashedly hitting on less fortunate looking girls, as Jud has not fared so well with the table of Cougars.

Lane exacts his revenge for the Macarena incident when, introducing ourselves to some randoms, he says his name is Adam Banks. Now anybody who has grown up with me, drank with me, hell- people who have no idea who I am but have read this blog- everyone knows my fake name is Adam Banks. I am caught completely off guard, and in no state of mind to be making up names on the spot. I stammer and mumble for a bit before saying my name is Chip. The ladies aren't buying that shit, and I strike out looking. Ballgame. Lane is pleased.

Now things get interesting. I begin talking to a girl. A little hazy now, but I think her name is Lauren. She is not good-looking. She is only an inch shorter than me, and she's got me by 25-30 pounds, easy. I would say that when she was getting ready to go out tonight, she smeared makeup all over a shovel, lit her face on fire, and then put out the fire by beating herself in the face with the makeup-covered shovel. Needless to say, I am hitting on her for Jud's sake. She is getting a little aggressive. She smells my fake interest like a shark smells blood in the water, which is ironic because I am desparately trying to bury my face in my fifth shark attack at the moment.

Sara tells Lauren that I have a girlfriend, and that she is standing very close to me. Lauren is not happy. She turns to me and says, "Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me...if I was angry." At least that's what I think she says, because I can only picture her as the Incredible Hulk at this point. Things are escalating quickly. I mean, really getting out of hand fast. I figure that before I see a man on fire, and Brick kills a guy with a trident, and Ron Burgundy advises me to stay with a relative or lay low in a safehouse of some sort, that we better get out of there. Too late: Alex is pissed. While this is a worse alternative for my short-term future, this is a much, much safer alternative for my long-term physical health. At least if it came down to it, I could beat Alex in a fistfight. I cannot say the same about Lauren.

Once home, Sara has to be carried in to our apartment from the car. Alex and I have our first 'domestic dispute' since moving in together. I fire up the playstation (hey, I had a big series against the Braves, and Dontrielle was pitching!) and have a one-man slumber party in the Fortress of Solitude.


Upon further review:

Even if you're only hitting on: a) much older ladies, b) mediocre-looking girls, or c) a possible transvestite with anger management issues; and even if you're only doing it on behalf of a buddy who needs to win a bet, it's probably not a great idea to do it while your girlfriend is present.

People HATE the Macarena (unless it's a wedding, I guess, because the dance floor is always packed when that song comes on.) The backlash against Lane when people thought he played that song was shockingly severe.

I wish I would've had Dustin going up to girls and asking, "Miss Vaughn, do you like anyone from class, like, more than a friend?" And then the girl would've looked at him all weird and I could've screamed, "YOU BLEW IT!" Man I love Billy Madison.

Dontrielle owns the Braves. The next day I thought I remembered being pissed because I gave up a 9th inning homer to lose the game, but I went back and checked stats, and the D-Train through a 3-hit shutout. Whoops.

Lane's reasoning for why our tabs were so huge at the end of the night: "They charge extra for your babysitting fee and your cougar license."

Sara does a pretty good Lauren impression:




We still can't drink responsibly at Sandbar.

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Here at the Lawrence Community Recreational Center, you may not be able to play an organized game of pickup basketball; or take two dribbles in any direction without bumping into someone who is most likely handling a basketball for the first time in their life....but if you're looking for a place to shoot some hoops amidst a gigantic clusterfuck of 10-year-olds in Mario Chalmers jerseys (who hope to be like Mario Chalmers someday), 20-year-olds in Tracy McGrady jerseys (who think they are Tracy McGrady), and 30-year-olds in Anfernee Hardaway jerseys (who think Anfernee Hardaway is still good)...then we are the Rec Center for you!

Relax, don't worry about the 45-year-old wearing camo pants and army boots who hits the floor every time there is a loud noise, or the 75-year-old gentleman in the purple sweatshirt and purple sweatpants hoisting up half-courters, or the three Renaissance Era jugglers tossing bowling pins to each other just a few feet away from the main court....it's all just a part of the family-like atmosphere you'll enjoy here at the Lawrence Community Recreational Center. When we say "Open Gym", we MEAN IT!

Don't laugh, this kid was my teammate in 2-on-2 and we held the court for like 7 games in a row. Granted, we were playing against a guy who looked and dressed like the ghost of Jacob Marley, paired with a 14-year-old pushing 300 pounds...but either way, that little bastard can shoot.

It's Friday afternoon, my head is overflowing with numbers, it's time to get special-sauced and watch college basketball all weekend. Holler at your boy when you see him in the street.

Babaganoosh!

Here's a story from today's GF Herald: Lucky Shot.


OK I know that roughly 95% of you didn't just click that link, because you're all lazy bastards. A recent online survey reported that 95% of all internet surfers are "lazy." However, there is a large margin of error, as only about 17 people took the time to click the link and fill out the online survey.

Regardless, I will now reward your laziness by just telling you the gist of the story. Basically, one of my dad's cop buddies invited him to come fire off a couple of rounds at the police department's gun range. My pops went in the back door, sort of a VIP entrance type of thing, and while he was waiting for his buddy to come get him, he dropped his box of ammo and a round went off. Now I'm not a hunter, and I'm only a wannabe gang banger, so I don't really know how guns work, but apparently that's like a one-in-a-million occurrence.

So a bunch of cops come flying at him, guns drawn, screaming, yada yada yada. They cuff my dad and keep him under custody until they recover the slug, investigate it, and determine that it indeed hadn't been fired from a gun. The news and paper get a hold of it, there's a huge mob at the door, and so the cops sneak him out the back to avoid the crush. The media still got some footage though, so my pops was featured on the news for a hilarious story.

The first article in the GF Herald online (posted last night) was pretty bush league, but the one I linked (from this morning) is pretty tame. The first article made my pops out to be a somewhat shady dude, and insinuated that his story could be bullshit. It featured quotes from the police Captain such as "at this point, this supports his story" which at first pissed me off. Like there's a fucking ongoing investigation! They found the slug, it hadn't been shot, he had a permit for his gun, he had numerous friends in the police department vouching for him, and he was released without further incident. Case closed. Get bent, Captain.

But then I realized how easy it is to be biased in these situations. If I had just been reading some random online article from Bumblefuck, Vermont, I would've first told myself to get a life and stop reading online newspapers from imaginary towns in New England, and then I would've been like "yeah sure, buddy, you 'dropped the box of ammo.' Haha, what a douchebag." But since this was about my dad, I was getting slightly offended at the report, so I had to laugh. Then they cleaned up the story this morning anyway. I haven't seen the actual paper, but judging on how it was the top story on the online version, I'm guessing this was front page news, which says a little something about GF, too.

Apparently my pops was hassled a bit by the Capt. once they found out he belonged to a motorcycle club, and listening to him bitch about this was, I think, the funniest part of the story. He was angry that he was being pigeonholed as a potentially bad guy since he belonged to an "outlaw motorcycle gang" and was upset that these clubs still had negative connotations attached to them. His best quotes:

"I mean, c'mon, it's not 1965 anymore, and we're not the Hells Angels."

and this doozy, which nearly made me hit the floor laughing:

"Now I know how black people feel."

Oh shit I died laughing at that. My dad, leading the motorcycle club member civil rights movement. What a dork. Love ya, big guy.

Annnnyway Big Jack is really, really embarrassed by the whole thing, so if you are still in the Greater Grand Forks area, you should absolutely take advantage of this and make fun of him every chance you get.

Horp Or Scheyer?

The game is simple: each one of these pictures is either Duke sixth man Jon Scheyer.....or Horp. Which is which?

I'm sorry Horp, I just can't get over this. Blame Stenj for putting these pics up in the first place.




1. Horp.....or Scheyer?





2. Horp....or Scheyer?






3. Horp.....or Scheyer?







4. Horp.....or Scheyer?







5. Scheyer working out for some scouts from San Antonio......or Horp and Stenj being Horp and Stenj?







6. Horp at Halloween last year....or Scheyer being mocked on a website?

ANSWERS:

1. Scheyer

2. Horp

3. Scheyer

4. Horp

5. Horp

6. Scheyer

My main man MyShawn has now been inserted into the 12 hole in the batting order. MyShawn is one of most randomly funny people I've ever met, as well as "top 5 best people to go to a strip club with." To clear up beforehand any questions anyone might ask, "MyShawn" stems from when I first introduced him to noonball, and there was already a Shawn that played there, so he became "MyShawn" since he usually came with me. That and you can pretty much put anything in front of Shawn these days and it counts as a name: Keyshawn, Tayshaun, Rayshawn, Marshawn, etc. etc. This is leading to me naming my first kid BigPapiShawn, regardless of whether it's a boy or girl. Anyways, give him a look.

Duke vs. The Yankees

While bullshitting about sports at the bar a while ago, an interesting argument was brought up: Who is your least favorite team, all-time, any sport? I realized I couldn't answer right away, and have been pondering it in my head for a while now...Duke....or the Yankees? The scoring system is more points = more hated.

COACH

For this category, I'm counting Joe Torre as coach of the Yanks. He was in charge for most of the years in question (1990-present) so I'm not counting Joe Girardi or Buck Showalter here. So you've got Torre, an all-around likeable guy, who struggled before coming to New York. He's the kind of guy who I would love to have as coach of the Red Sox, at least before Francona hit his stride. Then you've got Coach K. Pretty classy, and his old Sega game was pretty badass...but there's just something about him that bugs me....oh yeah, he's a robot who hasn't aged since 1986. He bitches an inordinate amount to refs. And a large percentage of his players go on to have shitty pro careers. On an unrelated note, Big D does the greatest impression of Coach K whining to a referee in human history. If you disagree...I will fight you.

DUKE +1

FANS

On a personal level: The Duke fans I know (Dunph, Noles, Jenna, MyShawn) aren't too annoying (Dunph being the large exception, get bent you doucheface), and for the most part, I can sit back and giggle while they argue with Carolina fans (Fundy, Horp, Bergman.) However, I have had plenty of unnecessary, stupid, drunk arguments with Yankee fans, simply because I'm wearing a Sox hat. The only real Yankees fan I know is Brett Larson's dad, and he's cool about it; we always talk good-natured shit.

On a stereotypical national level: Yankee fans are dirty goombahs with shitty facial hair and ugly girlfriends; Duke fans are nerdy rich kids who are good at math and occasionally wet the bed still. Both teams have a knowledgable, highly supportive crowd at home games. I suppose being a Sox fan gives me more issues with Yankee fans.
YANKEES +1

"To answer your question: No, I don't really know what The Shocker is, because I haven't ever really "fooled around" with a girl before. I just see a lot of people doing this in pictures on MySpace and have always thought it looks really cool. Plus it combines with my facial expression to really give off that 'I'm a gigantic douchebag' vibe that I'm going for. Hey, do you wanna read some of my poems? No? Fine, I gotta go anyway, me and Adam Morrison have a date to play some online Halo."

ANNOYING TEAM SUCCESS

Similar here. In my lifetime, the Yankees have been good since about '95, and they've been really good. 9 straight division titles, a bunch of World Series titles, always an outstanding record, generally owning the Sox as well. You just know that they're making the playoffs somehow, someway, every single year. However, the last few years, starting with Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS, they've become chokers in the playoffs. This has been enjoyable to watch.

Duke has been good since Terminator K-1000 failed to kill John Connor and instead accepted the head coaching job at Duke. A few titles (including one over KU in '91) a bunch of final fours, and an obscene amount of #1 or #2 seeds in the tourney. When they don't make the Sweet 16 it is a huge deal. However, one of those years was last year, and they have only 1 final four in the last six. I wouldn't say they've been choking, but they haven't been living up to their lofty expectations. One wrinkle in this category is that both sports' postseasons are more fun when they are involved. If my team is eliminated, the next best thing is rooting against one of them. Since the Sox have kind of reversed their fortunes against the Yanks lately, and they are now owners of the biggest choke job in sports history, and KU has only beat Duke once in the tourney since I started watching college hoops, Duke gets the slight edge.

DUKE +1

ANNOYING INDIVIDUALS

Maybe my favorite category. No shortage for either side. Duke has JJ Redick, Christian Laettner, Danny Ferry, Steve Wojoadflkajfldski, Shavlik Randolph, Bobby Hurley, Lee Melchionni, Greg Paulus, and Josh McRoberts (awaiting membership: Kyle Singler, Craig Horp- I mean, Jon Scheyer.) Just an absolute murderers' row of geeky/cocky white dudes. Not to say that there aren't some black guys that I have hated (Gerald Henderson, Shelden Williams, etc.) but the white guys carry the load here. There is also the aforementioned Coach K and his assistant coaches, who come across as a Frat brother and his freshman pledges. I mean, really, Coach K, you can't even do your own interviews, you make Johnny Dawkins do them?

"Coach K, we did it! We did it! I love you, Coach. You're the greatest."

"I love you too, Wojo. Now go pull my car around front and pick me up, you little bitch."

"Wh-uhhh, what, Coach?"

"You heard me, Pledge! You wanna be an assistant coach someday, don't you?!"

"Well, yeah, I just-"

"Then go pull up my FUCKING CAR!!!"

The Yankees have a couple of different categories of annoying. There are the players that I would hate no matter who they played for: Gay-Rod (shocker, I know), Jorge Posada, Roger Clemens, Paul O'Neill, Chuck Knoblauch, Mike Mussina, Derek Jeter, Joba Chamberlain. Then there are those who I only hate because they play(ed) for the Yankees: JOHNNY DAMON, Jason Giambi, Hideki Matsui, Gary Sheffield, Mariano Rivera, Bernie Williams.

For each team, there are only a couple of players I have ever liked. Duke has Grant Hill and Thomas Hill. The Yanks have Robinson Cano and Alfonso Soriano.

For what it's worth, my least favorite NBA player (Kobe) was going to Duke if he didn't go straight to the pros. Just sayin'.

My first thought was to give Duke the point here, but then I realized that a lot of their players are such dipshits that I just laugh at them (case in point: Greg Paulus), whereas I hate guys like Gay-Rod, Posada, etc. with a burning passion, to the point that I am literally furious when they succeed.

YANKEES +1

Yeah, Horp, sorry that you got jacked in the face, that totally sucks. But, and don't take this the wrong way.... but maybe if you stopped getting shitfaced, going to some innocent family's house thinking that it's yours, and proceeding to beat the crap out of the front door until the police are called, then things like this wouldn't happen....

MEDIA BIAS

Rather big for both sides, but in different ways. The Yankees get more coverage since they are on the east coast, they are always good, they have a million fans, and they are more interesting. But it's not like the media is slanted towards them. If anything, they get cut less slack and get ripped in the media more than a normal team, since their payroll is so huge. You can watch a Yankees game on ESPN and the announcers will actually call the game.

Now, Duke.....Holy shit. When I was 8 years old and just loving the announcers at their face value, Dick Vitale was the bomb. Always yelling, saying funny stuff, has a genuine excitement for the game...he was the best. Now I've grown up and I actually listen to what he's saying, and you would be hard-pressed to find a more biased announcer in the history of sports media. And of course he has brought Mike Patrick along for the ride. Listening to those two get hard while commentating Duke games is disgusting.
DUKE +1

MISCELLANEOUS:

Duke gets more favorable calls from referees than any team in any sport, and I won't argue about that. It's a fact. However, I don't want any comments from Bergman (or any other UNC fan that may comment) on this topic. ACC refs in general play favorites towards the big name schools. Listening to UNC fans complain about the refs favoring Duke has always drove me nuts; it's like going to 'Dude, Where's My Car?', sitting next to Hayden Christensen in the theater, and listening to him complain about how bad of an actor Ashton Kutcher is.

DUKE +1

The Yankees have caused more damage to me personally than Duke. Duke made me cry when I was 8, when they beat KU in the championship. The Yankees sent me into a "Michael Douglas in Falling Down" type meltdown after the Aaron Boone homer in 2003. Alcohol played a major role here, but still...

YANKEES +1

Don Zimmer charging Pedro in the 2003 ALCS, then everyone making Pedro out to be worse than Hitler for tossing him to the ground. Actually, that was pretty bad. I still blame Zimmer, though.

YANKEES +1

Gerald Henderson basically punching Tyler Hansbrough in the face and breaking his nose, then Coach K defending him, and going on to blame Roy by saying Hansbrough shouldn't have still been in the game anyway.

DUKE +1

Roger Clemens throwing the piece of bat at Mike Piazza.

YANKEES +1

Christian Laettner stomping on the Kentucky player's chest, not getting tossed or even T'd up, and then hitting his miracle buzzer beater later that game.

DUKE +1

Derek Jeter unnecessarily diving headfirst into the stands to make his catch of a foul pop-up look really badass.

YANKEES +1

"Hey, Jeets, what's up, buddy? You hurt your arm yesterday or somethin?"

"Oh yeah, crazy story actually. I was playing catch with my nephew in the driveway, and one of his tosses got away from him a little bit, and after I ran the ball down- totally sweet catch, by the way, you should've seen it- my momentum carried me right into the street and I got hit by a car!"

"Your nephew is like 7, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but what can I say? Kid's got an arm on him. And besides, what could I have done, let the ball get by me? No way! Uhh, last time I checked, the name on the back of my jersey says Jeter. Well, actually, we don't have names on the back of our real jerseys, but yesterday I was wearing my custom-made Jeter jersey I ordered off the internet. Only $8 a letter, and now I have my own Yankees jersey that actually has my name on it. It's pretty awesome, I gotta be honest with you. Anyways, I'm Derek Jeter, bro! I gotta make that catch no matter what! And don't worry, I popped right up after I got hit by that car and ran the ball back in to my nephew. I even felt good enough to get a pretty fucking sweet fist pump in there, too. He was pretty impressed, I could tell. I dunno, just watch SportsCenter tonight, it'll probably make the top 10 or something."

"Holy cow! What a story! You really do have the heart of a champion. I would never have gone after the ball like that! I would've let it go by, and then just make sure I hit a three-run homer my next time up. Unless it was, like, a close game and it was after the 6th inning. Then I probably would've popped up or something. I guess that's why New York loves you and hates me, huh buddy? Hahahaaaaa......good stuff, Jeets. Good stuff."

"What about you? Your arm looks a little sore, too."

"Oh, my arm? Not really a big deal, I guess....I was in a pretty intense circle jerk last night. Things got pretty aggressive. Good time, though."

The Duke fans using a 'cheer sheet' to make fun of opposing players. You're all a bunch of 4.0 students, but you can't heckle somebody without writing it down and studying first? Let's go, it's not your AP Trig mid-term, it's saying mean things to another human being who isn't allowed to say anything back.

DUKE +1

Gay-Rod slapping the ball out of Bronson Arroyo's hand in Game 6 of the 2004 ALCS, and his reaction of complete innocence afterwards.

YANKEES +1

Shelden Williams' face, Shane Battier's Ripplehead.

DUKE +1

Jeffrey Maier.

YANKEES +1

And so it appears we're all tied up. If only I had some sort of tiebreaker.....

Yep. That'll do. Santa-Rod? No thanks. Final score: Yankees 9, Duke 8.

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.

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!"

Me "Hey, CARL, GOOD TO SEE YOU!"

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.

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 seeds....watch 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.

...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."

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.

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.

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."

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?"

"Yes....no.....I don't know.....it wasn't supposed to be this way. Not for us."

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

"Can we still be friends?"

"Forever."

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:

"Dumb."

"Stupid."

"Crazy."

"Dangerous."

"Stinks."

"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.

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 since....like 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.)

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 CNN.com 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.

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.

I Hate K-State

I was all geared up to write a big post about how awesome KU is this year, and then they go and lose (badly) to K-State last night and ruin everything. I wasn't buying into all the undefeated hype, but still....this loss hurts. After all the talking Michael Beasley and Bill Walker did, I mean, wow, I didn't want to lose to them. I suppose they backed it up though. Beasley is a monster inside, who likes to shoot 3's just for fun, I guess. Uhh, He's good. Walker, however, is a punk who throws up shots like he's a dying 10-year-old whose Make-A-Wish is to play just one game of Divison I basketball.

I take solace in the fact that they had to play unconscious and KU had to play like garbage for them to win. That makes me excited for the rematch in Lawrence. I love how the fans stormed the court, too. Awesome job, K-State, you beat KU AT HOME for the first time since 1983. Why don't you jump up on the scorer's table like you just won the champ--oh, OK, you're already up there. Good, good. Now jersey pop it, yeah!!!!! Jeeeeeesus. That's why I hate K-State. Their whole season revolves around beating KU. Grow up and act like you play in a major conference.

"Yo, check out this outlet pass I'm throwin' to my boy B-Easy right here. Look at that form, that shit is textbook, homie......nahhhhhh I'm just playin', dawg. Shiiiiit, I don't ever be passin' the ball. You know I got jokes. That's actually a half-court shot that slipped out my hands, yo. Muh' fuckas be leavin' me open out there, then muh' fuckas be gettin' a half-courter in their mug. Actin' like y'all don't know 'bout Bill Walker! Y'all on some BULLshit. Don't trip."

Yeah, I know that this whole post so far is just the ramblings of a sore loser. I am actually glad that KU lost a game; they need that in the long run. And I am glad that there is an actual rivalry based on both teams being good now, not based on a lack of distance between the schools.

Johan going to the Mets was, all things considered, my best-case scenario. It would've been sweet for the Sox to get him, but only if they were giving up a package including Coco and/or Lester. Anything involving Ellsbury wasn't worth it. And also, I can't even comprehend how good the Sox would've been. As it stands now, they are ridicously good, but the Tigers worry me, and the Yankees will probably worry me until I die. If you put Santana on the Sox, they are one of the best teams in major league history, and it would've taken some of the suspense out of this year. Another bonus is he didn't go to the Yanks, and yet another bonus is he went to an NL team. I would like to see the huge gap in talent between the two leagues balance out a bit, and this is a good start. It's no fun when the 5 best teams in the major leagues are all in the AL. Although I gotta say, this is a questionable trade for the Twins. I'm not gonna pretend to know anything about the Mets' farm system, but it appears that the offers from both the Yanks and the Sox were much better than the Mets' offer. Just sayin'.

Bad news for Jacque Vaughn fans like myself, if there are indeed any more out there: Damon Stoudamire is probably signing with the Spurs, which will surely end his time there, or at least his regular minutes. As much as I love him, he's probably hung around the NBA much longer than a player with his skill level should have. Oh well. It was a good run.

One more reason why I LOVE being alive in the year 2008: I have had an ipod for a couple years now, but never really looked in-depth into the itunes store. I just kind of assumed it was a rip-off. Well, last night I discovered that they have the One Shining Moment video for every year it was made (all the way back to 1987) in their inventory. After a couple minutes deliberation regarding what year I should buy first, I said fuck it and bought every year. I paid $25 bucks for the whole thing, but the goosebumps are included for no extra charge. Schne, not trying to make you feel bad, but this is a slight upgrade from your home-made VHS montage. God bless America.

Fuckin' Jagerbombs

A few months back, Dunph and some of his co-workers were in KC for a seminar or something gay like that, and I went out drinking with them. One of them (I forget his name) had a hilarious story about some "New York dudes that I overheard in a bar." I put that in quotes because it turned out to be complete bullshit. It was a great story, full of ridiculous one-liners and general douchebaggery. Everyone else, who had heard the story multiple times, was dying laughing. It was my first time, obviously, and I was almost rolling on the floor laughing.

Annnnnyway, I stumbled into this video on youtube the other day, which I'm sure has been around forever, and it contains a bunch of the same lines from the guy's story. So basically he's a huge liar; but whatever, it's a good story. I can't blame him too much for taking it as his own. As long as he's willing to take the risk that no one has already seen this video, cause then he looks like a total helmet. But he kinda did already; ironically, he sorta reminds me of the guy who stars in this video.

So if you've seen this already, I apologize. If you haven't already seen this, and you're anything like me, you'll probably watch it a few times in a row. If you're at work, you might want to turn the volume down. And shame on you, you should be working.

You know what this is? It's my new fuckin' haircut.