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.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
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 invincible...it 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.
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 invincible...it 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....."
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:
"Hello?"
"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:
"Hello?"
"YEAH-- SPENCER?"
"Nope, sorry, you've got the wrong number"
"SPENCER? SPENCE? YOU THERE?"
"No, sorry sir, no Spencer here. You've got the wrong number."
"WHAT'S THAT? WHO IS THIS? SPENCER THERE?"
"No, dude, wrong number! This is Jim. Not Spencer."
"YEAH-- JIM? YOU SEEN SPENCE?"
"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.)
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.)
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Favorite Songs of 2010
Mine's gonna be a little different. I don't listen to the radio and rarely search for under-the-radar music, so I'm not very up-to-date on things. If it wasn't for Schneweis and a couple of other people, I'd be even worse. So my favorite song list of 2010 isn't going to be of songs that came out this year, but songs that I heard for the first time this year. Don't expect to find a whole lot of hidden gems in this list.
Listed in order of when I first heard them, starting with January:
Eminence Front- The Who. After Keith Moon overdosed, the number of great songs The Who released could probably be counted on one hand. This one would be the middle finger, assuming the first two you counted were 'Who Are You' and 'You Better You Bet.' Which obviously they would have been.
Peacebone- Animal Collective. I've never been a huge pot smoker. Dabbled, but never sat in a smoke-filled dorm room and tried to sync up Pink Floyd and The Wizard of Oz or anything. Ipso facto, I'm not a huge expert on what bands are amazing to listen to while you're high as shit. But still....Animal Collective would be amazing to listen to while you're high as shit.
Bang Pop- Free Energy. As mentioned before, I rarely discover new music on my own. So when I loved this song upon my first listen early this year, then later this summer heard it on the radio, I was pumped up (as Gangel can attest to, he was there.) I can't remember the last time I correctly predicted a hit single before it was released. I'm sure MC Hammer was involved though.
It's Only Me (The Wizard of MagicLand)- Barenaked Ladies. In NHL 2002 for PS2, they play little clips of songs while your team is warming up before the game. You can skip through it at any time, but not before about 3 seconds goes by. That 3-second stretch was enough for me to be intrigued enough about this song to google the lyrics, find the song, download it and enjoy it....but yet I always still skip it when I'm about to play a game.
Warm Heart of Africa- The Very Best. Takes home the award for song I've listened to the most in 2010. Although The Very Best opened for Vampire Weekend in Kansas City a couple months ago, and they were terrrrrrible. They reminded me of the Red Stripe commercial...."Red Stripe Beer, Red Stripe Light Beer, Red Stripe Beer, Red Stripe Light Beer."
Ragoo- Kings of Leon. I'm a little bit late to the Kings of Leon party. Is the keg dry? The cops haven't been called yet, have they? Where should I put my jacket?
That's the Joint- Funky Four + One. One of my favorite random genres of music is the hip-hop/dance of the early 1980's. Seven-to-ten minutes long, not a curse word to be found, extended dance beats in between verses, one section devoted entirely to introducing every member of the group to the listener-- all awesome. One of my favorite playlists to rock while road-tripping or summer boozing. (Also, the only link I could find for this song is only like 2 minutes long and crappy quality, but it confirmed even more how much I love that style of music. I would so fit in as an early 1980's black guy in an ensemble like that. At least until the cocaine era really took off.)
Pastime Paradise- Stevie Wonder. I am a huge Stevie Wonder fan, and I also pride myself in knowing which songs or artists are being sampled in rap songs. Yet I had NO clue that Coolio's 'Gangsta Paradise' was stolen from this song until this year. Color me embarrassed.
Just Breathe- Pearl Jam. Emotions everywhere in this song. Floors. Ceiling. Walls. Emotions.
Stand- Blues Traveler. Probably falls into the category of "How the hell didn't I hear this song until 2010?" It's a tragedyyyyyyy! (see what I did there?)
The Frug- Rilo Kiley. Jenny Lewis has one of those voices (not to mention one of those pairs of boobies) that makes me fall completely and totally in love with the lead singer, and it's on display in this song. Other examples: Alicia Keys, Vanessa Carlton, Neko Case, Steve Perry.
Tighten Up- The Black Keys. One of the only songs on this list that was actually released in 2010. And I only heard it because they were constantly playing a clip of it in between episodes during a gigantic marathon of The Hills. Say what you will about Lauren Conrad and Spencer and Heidi and the gang, but there are few things I enjoy more on lazy hungover Sundays than a good ol' fashioned Hills marathon.
Change- Blind Melon. I thought these guys were supposed to be one-hit wonders? Or maybe this was a hit too and I just don't remember it? I think I like this song more than 'No Rain.'
Friend of the Devil- The Grateful Dead. Every once in a while I think to myself, "Hey. I've never really tried to be a fan of ______, I bet I'd really like them though." So I'll totally immerse myself in that band for a few days, just listening to song after song after song. I did that with the Grateful Dead a few months ago, and it didn't work out so well. But I do love this song.
Jump!- John Jorgenson Bluegrass Band. I've talked about this song already. It's still lodged in my brain pretty well; nothing can lift me out of a bad mood quicker than this little ditty. So controversial, too. There is a pretty heavy divide amongst my friends on whether or not this song is any good. Probably my overall favorite of 2010.
Happy Early New Year.....let's keep it real while keepin' it safe tomorrow night.
Listed in order of when I first heard them, starting with January:
Eminence Front- The Who. After Keith Moon overdosed, the number of great songs The Who released could probably be counted on one hand. This one would be the middle finger, assuming the first two you counted were 'Who Are You' and 'You Better You Bet.' Which obviously they would have been.
Peacebone- Animal Collective. I've never been a huge pot smoker. Dabbled, but never sat in a smoke-filled dorm room and tried to sync up Pink Floyd and The Wizard of Oz or anything. Ipso facto, I'm not a huge expert on what bands are amazing to listen to while you're high as shit. But still....Animal Collective would be amazing to listen to while you're high as shit.
Bang Pop- Free Energy. As mentioned before, I rarely discover new music on my own. So when I loved this song upon my first listen early this year, then later this summer heard it on the radio, I was pumped up (as Gangel can attest to, he was there.) I can't remember the last time I correctly predicted a hit single before it was released. I'm sure MC Hammer was involved though.
It's Only Me (The Wizard of MagicLand)- Barenaked Ladies. In NHL 2002 for PS2, they play little clips of songs while your team is warming up before the game. You can skip through it at any time, but not before about 3 seconds goes by. That 3-second stretch was enough for me to be intrigued enough about this song to google the lyrics, find the song, download it and enjoy it....but yet I always still skip it when I'm about to play a game.
Warm Heart of Africa- The Very Best. Takes home the award for song I've listened to the most in 2010. Although The Very Best opened for Vampire Weekend in Kansas City a couple months ago, and they were terrrrrrible. They reminded me of the Red Stripe commercial...."Red Stripe Beer, Red Stripe Light Beer, Red Stripe Beer, Red Stripe Light Beer."
Ragoo- Kings of Leon. I'm a little bit late to the Kings of Leon party. Is the keg dry? The cops haven't been called yet, have they? Where should I put my jacket?
That's the Joint- Funky Four + One. One of my favorite random genres of music is the hip-hop/dance of the early 1980's. Seven-to-ten minutes long, not a curse word to be found, extended dance beats in between verses, one section devoted entirely to introducing every member of the group to the listener-- all awesome. One of my favorite playlists to rock while road-tripping or summer boozing. (Also, the only link I could find for this song is only like 2 minutes long and crappy quality, but it confirmed even more how much I love that style of music. I would so fit in as an early 1980's black guy in an ensemble like that. At least until the cocaine era really took off.)
Pastime Paradise- Stevie Wonder. I am a huge Stevie Wonder fan, and I also pride myself in knowing which songs or artists are being sampled in rap songs. Yet I had NO clue that Coolio's 'Gangsta Paradise' was stolen from this song until this year. Color me embarrassed.
Just Breathe- Pearl Jam. Emotions everywhere in this song. Floors. Ceiling. Walls. Emotions.
Stand- Blues Traveler. Probably falls into the category of "How the hell didn't I hear this song until 2010?" It's a tragedyyyyyyy! (see what I did there?)
The Frug- Rilo Kiley. Jenny Lewis has one of those voices (not to mention one of those pairs of boobies) that makes me fall completely and totally in love with the lead singer, and it's on display in this song. Other examples: Alicia Keys, Vanessa Carlton, Neko Case, Steve Perry.
Tighten Up- The Black Keys. One of the only songs on this list that was actually released in 2010. And I only heard it because they were constantly playing a clip of it in between episodes during a gigantic marathon of The Hills. Say what you will about Lauren Conrad and Spencer and Heidi and the gang, but there are few things I enjoy more on lazy hungover Sundays than a good ol' fashioned Hills marathon.
Change- Blind Melon. I thought these guys were supposed to be one-hit wonders? Or maybe this was a hit too and I just don't remember it? I think I like this song more than 'No Rain.'
Friend of the Devil- The Grateful Dead. Every once in a while I think to myself, "Hey. I've never really tried to be a fan of ______, I bet I'd really like them though." So I'll totally immerse myself in that band for a few days, just listening to song after song after song. I did that with the Grateful Dead a few months ago, and it didn't work out so well. But I do love this song.
Jump!- John Jorgenson Bluegrass Band. I've talked about this song already. It's still lodged in my brain pretty well; nothing can lift me out of a bad mood quicker than this little ditty. So controversial, too. There is a pretty heavy divide amongst my friends on whether or not this song is any good. Probably my overall favorite of 2010.
Happy Early New Year.....let's keep it real while keepin' it safe tomorrow night.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Christmas And Stuff
Christmas week was solid. Ate a lot of Red Pepper. Drank a lot at Bonzer's. Lost more money in under 10 minutes of blackjack at Charlie Brown's than I paid for in drinks the whole week (this is more a statement on how much Bonzer's hooks us up than on how much I lost in blackjack. But still, not even two shoes? C'mon, man.)
Saw plenty of people I wanted to, saw a couple people unexpectedly that were a very pleasant surprise, saw a couple more unexpectedly that I could've gone without seeing, got blatantly hit on by a female that I DEFINITELY didn't need to be solicited by, yada yada yada. Strikes and gutters, my man. Too much happened over too long a span of time to get into detail. Also, I'd never taken that much time off of work before, all my trips are usually little wham-bam-thank you ma'am weekend trips, or maybe a Thursday-Sunday, so now I'm slammed at work like never before.
Possibly the highlight of the whole week: when the KU/California game came on Wednesday night, and my boy Brady Morningstar was sporting his baggy undershirt again. My phone immediately blew up like it was my birthday. Lots of high fives and laughter in the bar. As Jim Nantz would say, "What a moment!" Bigs up to the Brady Morningstar Undershirt Brigade. The power of the internet, people. It's a very real thing.
On a serious note, a couple awful things happened over break as well. The big car accident at the airport in Grand Forks that killed two small children-- their father (who was driving and survived, along with one other son) is a friend of the family. Also, my family and I don't do Christmas presents for each other anymore, we take that money and donate it to one of my mom's friends, since her 14-year-old daughter is very sick, and medical bills are literally crushing her family's finances. Anyway, they found out on Christmas Eve that there isn't anything else the doctors can do now except ease the pain until she passes. Tragedies obviously suck no matter when they happen, but it seems like it's just a little bit worse when they happen around Christmas. So thoughts and prayers to both of those families.
Saw plenty of people I wanted to, saw a couple people unexpectedly that were a very pleasant surprise, saw a couple more unexpectedly that I could've gone without seeing, got blatantly hit on by a female that I DEFINITELY didn't need to be solicited by, yada yada yada. Strikes and gutters, my man. Too much happened over too long a span of time to get into detail. Also, I'd never taken that much time off of work before, all my trips are usually little wham-bam-thank you ma'am weekend trips, or maybe a Thursday-Sunday, so now I'm slammed at work like never before.
Possibly the highlight of the whole week: when the KU/California game came on Wednesday night, and my boy Brady Morningstar was sporting his baggy undershirt again. My phone immediately blew up like it was my birthday. Lots of high fives and laughter in the bar. As Jim Nantz would say, "What a moment!" Bigs up to the Brady Morningstar Undershirt Brigade. The power of the internet, people. It's a very real thing.
On a serious note, a couple awful things happened over break as well. The big car accident at the airport in Grand Forks that killed two small children-- their father (who was driving and survived, along with one other son) is a friend of the family. Also, my family and I don't do Christmas presents for each other anymore, we take that money and donate it to one of my mom's friends, since her 14-year-old daughter is very sick, and medical bills are literally crushing her family's finances. Anyway, they found out on Christmas Eve that there isn't anything else the doctors can do now except ease the pain until she passes. Tragedies obviously suck no matter when they happen, but it seems like it's just a little bit worse when they happen around Christmas. So thoughts and prayers to both of those families.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Ok, I Believe You...But My Tommy Gun Don't
Tonight I start my voyage to the Great White North for a nice long Christmas break. Tonight will either be Omaha or Minneapolis, and tomorrow either Fargo or Grand Forks, I'm still weighing my options, and trying to make as many people happy as possible. I'm a nice guy like that. Either way, I already gave up my ticket to the KU game tomorrow morning, which happens to be Josh Selby's much-anticipated debut. Word on the street is it will be one of the rowdiest games in Fieldhouse history. So basically I chose extra time with friends over Josh Selby. I regret it already. My friends are pricks, mostly.
Things I am most excited for:
Charitable gaming: Goes without saying. My blackjack shakes aren't as bad as they usually are, since I've had a couple of casino trips in the last couple months....but still.
Noonball: Gonna run some games on the ol' Orange Top at Hyslop for the first time in over three years. Every other time I've been back home since I moved away, I'm usually busy seeing people or golfing during the day, but I'm finally making noonball a priority this time. I'm a very nostalgic person, so it might be tough to play with tears of joy running down my face. Then one of the black guys who hated me back in the day will throw an elbow or a punch, and I'll be ready to play again. The smart money is on either JJ or Joe, if you're gambling at home.
Red Pepper: The other day, I came across some sort of coconut body wash with little black specks in it, and I practically started drooling, thinking about Red Pepper's legendary white sauce. I was dangerously close to pouring some in my mouth, just for a little sample, but then your mom told me to hurry up in the shower because she was going to be late for work.
Christmas movies: the ones I watch every year: Elf (already watched that one while decorating the Christmas tree, hey remember when Paul watched it every single day for 24 days in a row?); National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation; Home Alone (when will that movie stop being awesome? Never?); Garfield's Christmas; A Christmas Carol; and my personal favorite, A Muppet Family Christmas, which I watch on Christmas Day every year. It's pretty much the only reason why there is still a VHS player hooked up at my parents' house (thanks Mom!) Even at 28 years old, it brings me great joy. Damn I love Muppets. And if you don't, then you hate Christmas and I'm sorry.
***************
One unrelated side note: if you are thinking about putting a Smirnoff Ice in a roommate or friend's stocking, make sure the stocking is SECURELY weighted down to support the weight of the Ice- especially if you are sneaking the Ice into the stocking right before you leave for work while your roommate or friend is sleeping. If you do not complete this crucial step, the Ice may or may not drag the stocking off the mantle, and the Ice may or may not shatter on the floor and startle your roommate out of her peaceful slumber, and she may or may not have to clean up the mess on the floor while she curses your name. Just a little word of warning this holiday season.
***************
Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, Selby is free at last!
Things I am most excited for:
Charitable gaming: Goes without saying. My blackjack shakes aren't as bad as they usually are, since I've had a couple of casino trips in the last couple months....but still.
Noonball: Gonna run some games on the ol' Orange Top at Hyslop for the first time in over three years. Every other time I've been back home since I moved away, I'm usually busy seeing people or golfing during the day, but I'm finally making noonball a priority this time. I'm a very nostalgic person, so it might be tough to play with tears of joy running down my face. Then one of the black guys who hated me back in the day will throw an elbow or a punch, and I'll be ready to play again. The smart money is on either JJ or Joe, if you're gambling at home.
Red Pepper: The other day, I came across some sort of coconut body wash with little black specks in it, and I practically started drooling, thinking about Red Pepper's legendary white sauce. I was dangerously close to pouring some in my mouth, just for a little sample, but then your mom told me to hurry up in the shower because she was going to be late for work.
Christmas movies: the ones I watch every year: Elf (already watched that one while decorating the Christmas tree, hey remember when Paul watched it every single day for 24 days in a row?); National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation; Home Alone (when will that movie stop being awesome? Never?); Garfield's Christmas; A Christmas Carol; and my personal favorite, A Muppet Family Christmas, which I watch on Christmas Day every year. It's pretty much the only reason why there is still a VHS player hooked up at my parents' house (thanks Mom!) Even at 28 years old, it brings me great joy. Damn I love Muppets. And if you don't, then you hate Christmas and I'm sorry.
***************
One unrelated side note: if you are thinking about putting a Smirnoff Ice in a roommate or friend's stocking, make sure the stocking is SECURELY weighted down to support the weight of the Ice- especially if you are sneaking the Ice into the stocking right before you leave for work while your roommate or friend is sleeping. If you do not complete this crucial step, the Ice may or may not drag the stocking off the mantle, and the Ice may or may not shatter on the floor and startle your roommate out of her peaceful slumber, and she may or may not have to clean up the mess on the floor while she curses your name. Just a little word of warning this holiday season.
***************
Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, Selby is free at last!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Ouch, Ouch, You're On My Hair
I got my world rocked a couple nights ago.
My roommate and I were watching TV, on opposite couches, when my feet, dangling over the edge of my couch, grazed her head. She exclaimed "Ouch, ouch, you're on my hair!" I told her to calm down, I barely touched you, what are you talking about. She informed me that it was from Wedding Crashers, right after Vince Vaughn drops the "Just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels" line. And she was very adamant about it.
Immediately, my eyes lit up, and I knew a bet was upcoming. Allow myself to brag about....myself for a minute. I NEVER get these kind of trivial, I-don't-even-know-why-I'm-betting, nobody-really-cares-but-you type of bets wrong. I'm probably at about 97% for my life. (Not that this was a bet, per se, but the whole Billy Enforsee fiasco is one clear exception.) Most of my friends won't even bet me on this kind of stuff anymore, since I'm right so often. I've only lived with Jillian a couple months, and she has already lost a bunch of these movie trivia bets with me, enough so that even though she was 100% positive on this one, she was absolutely terrified because of how sure I was of myself. I was already calculating what I wanted to win after this was settled. A night of (heavy) drinking paid for? My laundry done for a month? A nice seafood dinner and I'll never call her again?
So we went to the tape, and I'll be goddamned if right after the just the tip line, ol' Vince Vaughn doesn't add in "or ouch, ouch, you're on my hair." My mind was officially blown. As Jillian erupted in celebration and I struggled to pick my jaw up off the floor, I reasoned that the only possible way I had NEVER, EVER heard that line was because I was always too busy LOL'ing (laughing out loud) at the "just the tip" part.
The joke is gonna be on her, though, because as her reward for winning, she requested that I cook her dinner. And yes, she is fully aware of my almost legendary kitchen impotence, so why she thinks I can cook her ANYTHING is beyond me. If she thinks she is getting anything besides a plate of different flavored hot pockets, arranged neatly on a serving platter, with perhaps a smattering of Cheez-its as garnish....she is sorely mistaken.
So I received a little lesson in humility; I guess I'm not ALWAYS right. (A lesson that I will surely never learn from. The next time a random trivia bet comes up, I'm still gonna be just as cocky and annoying as I always am. That's how I roll, son.)
My roommate and I were watching TV, on opposite couches, when my feet, dangling over the edge of my couch, grazed her head. She exclaimed "Ouch, ouch, you're on my hair!" I told her to calm down, I barely touched you, what are you talking about. She informed me that it was from Wedding Crashers, right after Vince Vaughn drops the "Just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels" line. And she was very adamant about it.
Immediately, my eyes lit up, and I knew a bet was upcoming. Allow myself to brag about....myself for a minute. I NEVER get these kind of trivial, I-don't-even-know-why-I'm-betting, nobody-really-cares-but-you type of bets wrong. I'm probably at about 97% for my life. (Not that this was a bet, per se, but the whole Billy Enforsee fiasco is one clear exception.) Most of my friends won't even bet me on this kind of stuff anymore, since I'm right so often. I've only lived with Jillian a couple months, and she has already lost a bunch of these movie trivia bets with me, enough so that even though she was 100% positive on this one, she was absolutely terrified because of how sure I was of myself. I was already calculating what I wanted to win after this was settled. A night of (heavy) drinking paid for? My laundry done for a month? A nice seafood dinner and I'll never call her again?
So we went to the tape, and I'll be goddamned if right after the just the tip line, ol' Vince Vaughn doesn't add in "or ouch, ouch, you're on my hair." My mind was officially blown. As Jillian erupted in celebration and I struggled to pick my jaw up off the floor, I reasoned that the only possible way I had NEVER, EVER heard that line was because I was always too busy LOL'ing (laughing out loud) at the "just the tip" part.
The joke is gonna be on her, though, because as her reward for winning, she requested that I cook her dinner. And yes, she is fully aware of my almost legendary kitchen impotence, so why she thinks I can cook her ANYTHING is beyond me. If she thinks she is getting anything besides a plate of different flavored hot pockets, arranged neatly on a serving platter, with perhaps a smattering of Cheez-its as garnish....she is sorely mistaken.
So I received a little lesson in humility; I guess I'm not ALWAYS right. (A lesson that I will surely never learn from. The next time a random trivia bet comes up, I'm still gonna be just as cocky and annoying as I always am. That's how I roll, son.)
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Real-World Applications Of The Godfather
There's a section of The Godfather book that the movie never gets into (one of the reasons why the book is so much better, not to mention the greatest book of all time) about Johnny Fontane and his troubles with women. He reaches a personal conclusion wherein he decides he will always love and cherish the women in his life, and never be angry with them, no matter what they do to him or how badly they treat him, just because it's easier for him to do that than to constantly be fighting with them. And because he makes that concession, he no longer feels guilty about anything he does on his part towards women. It's been one of my favorite parts of the book ever since reading it the very first time ten years ago. I started using this attitude in my life with various things, and it has served me well-- I call it my Johnny Fontane Breaking Point.
The point of all that: I have reached my Johnny Fontane Breaking Point with fantasy football. I will never again complain about anything fantasy football-related, I will just accept whatever crap it throws at me forever, without a word of anger. Tony Romo and Frank Gore suffer season-ending injuries? Fine. I lose a sure victory because Michael Vick drops a 50 spot on Monday night? Fair enough. Randy Moss signs with my favorite team, then drops off the face of the Earth? Cool beans. I lose my most recent game because of a Tuesday morning adjustment that awards Ike an extra point? (That one really is OK, it would've been my second tie in a row, which is gayer than a bag of dicks. How are there ties in fantasy football? We need to change that setting for next year, Commissioner, I would honestly rather lose than tie.)
But now, on the flip side of that coin....if I feel like focusing all my energy on gambling instead, or not once checking my team's score until Tuesday morning, or no longer debating for 15 minutes whether to start LeGarrette Blount against Atlanta or Jahvid Best against Chicago, or someday just walking away from fantasy football altogether.....then I do it with no guilt in my heart.
I actually started my new fantasy football attitude a couple weeks ago, right after the Michael Vick game, when Lane came up and asked me, eyes aglow and shit-eating grin plastered on his face, if I had any thoughts on that game the previous night, expecting a typical fantasy football "I got soooo screwed" rant. My response: a zen-like "No, not really. It's over with."
Johnny Fontane, bitches.
***************
Also, you may be a Godfather fan, and right about now you may be thinking to yourself about the part in the movie where Johnny Fontane goes to Vito Corleone and complains to him, and Vito slaps him in the face and tells him "You can ACT LIKE A MAN!!!" And you may be thinking about pointing out to me that that lesson involving Johnny Fontane is equally, or perhaps even moreso, applicable in this particular situation. But save your time; I'm aware of the possibility.
The point of all that: I have reached my Johnny Fontane Breaking Point with fantasy football. I will never again complain about anything fantasy football-related, I will just accept whatever crap it throws at me forever, without a word of anger. Tony Romo and Frank Gore suffer season-ending injuries? Fine. I lose a sure victory because Michael Vick drops a 50 spot on Monday night? Fair enough. Randy Moss signs with my favorite team, then drops off the face of the Earth? Cool beans. I lose my most recent game because of a Tuesday morning adjustment that awards Ike an extra point? (That one really is OK, it would've been my second tie in a row, which is gayer than a bag of dicks. How are there ties in fantasy football? We need to change that setting for next year, Commissioner, I would honestly rather lose than tie.)
But now, on the flip side of that coin....if I feel like focusing all my energy on gambling instead, or not once checking my team's score until Tuesday morning, or no longer debating for 15 minutes whether to start LeGarrette Blount against Atlanta or Jahvid Best against Chicago, or someday just walking away from fantasy football altogether.....then I do it with no guilt in my heart.
I actually started my new fantasy football attitude a couple weeks ago, right after the Michael Vick game, when Lane came up and asked me, eyes aglow and shit-eating grin plastered on his face, if I had any thoughts on that game the previous night, expecting a typical fantasy football "I got soooo screwed" rant. My response: a zen-like "No, not really. It's over with."
Johnny Fontane, bitches.
***************
Also, you may be a Godfather fan, and right about now you may be thinking to yourself about the part in the movie where Johnny Fontane goes to Vito Corleone and complains to him, and Vito slaps him in the face and tells him "You can ACT LIKE A MAN!!!" And you may be thinking about pointing out to me that that lesson involving Johnny Fontane is equally, or perhaps even moreso, applicable in this particular situation. But save your time; I'm aware of the possibility.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Take It To The Bridge
I've alluded to the fateful night when KU lost to Bucknell in the NCAA tournament and I drank myself into a stupor and passed out on a bridge in Indianapolis many times over the years, but never actually told the whole story. It's provided constant fodder for my friends to rip on me, and is usually good for being the final stake in a back-and-forth, kind of like the old "Well that may be, but at least I didn't sleep with Lumberg" comment that finishes it.
So now I'm gonna tell it. Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story: The Tale of Bucknell & The Bridge
**********
Paul, Fundy, Noles, Schne, JV and I were in Indianapolis for spring break, attending first and second round games at the RCA Dome after stops in Chicago and Louisville. (Aside: this was the only spring break trip I took in college. Why? Because the first and second rounds of March Madness always fall during spring break, and I didn't ever want to miss them. When we were 19, Paul, Russell and Fundy went to Cancun, and I declined to go with, not because I couldn't afford it, not because it didn't sound like fun....because it was Kirk Hinrich and Nick Collison's senior year, and I didn't want to miss any of their final tournament games. So it's fitting that the only time I went anywhere during spring break, it was to attend games in person. I am a weirdo.)
So we're in the hotel room, eating a combined 700 buffalo wings and having some beers and watching games. The KU game wasn't televised, but I wasn't too concerned. I mean, it was Bucknell, right? As the game went on, though, and KU was failing to pull away, I started to mini-panic, and at halftime Fundy and I headed to a bar to watch it, while Paul and Noles stayed behind to rest their vaginas.
Blah blah blah, I get progressively drunker and angrier as KU fails to pull away. When Wayne Simien missed his best Christian Laettner impression (how did that shot not go in?) I literally crumple to the floor of the packed bar and lay there for a solid ten minutes-- my second most embarrassing moment as a sports fan, #1 being when Aaron Boone hit the walk-off in 2003 against the Red Sox and, fueled by a case of beer in my belly, I destroyed our parking lot with a hammer as terrified bystanders looked on.
After I got up and sat wordlessly at the bar for a few more minutes (Fundy knew not to say a word the whole time; he didn't even attempt to get me up off the floor) some drunk guy saw my KU shirt and started heckling me. I ignored him for a while, then turned to him and said something like "Look. I know you're bigger than me, and I've only thrown 3/4 of a punch in my entire life, and you'll probably kick my ass, but if you say one more word to me, we're going outside and settling this." He looked extremely confused and his friends dragged him off-- we learned later that it was his 21st birthday and was so drunk he pretty much didn't know where he was.
So a couple of his friends, some pretty attractive girls from Wisconsin, came over to apologize and buy Fundy and I a round of shots. I was still in "get the fuck away from me, I'm not capable of interacting with humans" mode, but they wouldn't be denied, and soon they were buying round after round of patron for everyone while they talked me off the ledge. I don't think I paid for a drink in this bar.
Fast forward a couple hours, and this Wisconsin group (three girls, one regular guy, and the original drunk heckler, who is pretty much my best friend by this point) has talked Fundy and I into going dancing. I've kinda latched onto one girl in particular (I remember only two things about her: she was Hawaiian and her name started with a K. To use a famous quote from Dunph: I couldn't pick her out of a lineup of two. For purposes of the story, we'll call her Kahlua) and we are tearing up the dance floor. All of a sudden, Fundy comes sprinting through crowd, literally elbowing people out of the way. They're bumping 50 Cent pretty loud, but I can still hear him coming from a distance: "Jaaaaames! James! Ron Artest just walked in! Jaaaaaaames!"
This was about four months after the infamous melee in Detroit, so after a few minutes of us making the obligatory "I'll give you 100 bucks to lob a beer at him and see if he starts another brawl" jokes, we attempt to talk to him. We're quickly pushed aside by his giant entourage, and while we're regrouping, Artest notices "my" girl and beckons her over. I say "my" girl because while I was pseudo-dating a girl at the time, and wasn't about to bring Kahlua back to our hotel or anything, it was pretty clear that she was down for some just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels.
Kahlua is terrified to talk to the craziest player in the NBA, in the middle of about ten massive bodyguards to boot (weird right?) but we eventually convince her to go, hoping that she is our ticket into partying with Ron Artest and his posse the rest the night. Alas, it has the opposite effect, and we don't see Kahlua again, and eventually leave the bar to walk back to the hotel.
Here's where my personal plane crashed. The memories of dancing with my Hawaiian beauty and the thrill of seeing Ron Artest start fading, and the memories of KU losing to Bucknell seep back in. I get more and more depressed the longer we walk, and the last conscious memory I have is changing into a hooded sweatshirt, loading as many beers as my pockets will possibly hold, and leaving the hotel again.
The next morning I wake up on a bridge near our hotel, a pile of empties around my body, some more floating in the canal below (sorry city of Indianapolis) and absolutely freezing my balls off.
Why am I telling this story now: I was creeping around Facebook a while ago and found this picture belonging to JV's sister, who was visting Indianapolis:
That's right friends. To the right is the hotel we stayed at, in the foreground is the glorious Indianapolis Canal, and off there in the distance is my sleeping bridge. I know, you have to squint a bit (Enhance. Enhance. Enhance.) but I promise that is it. I laughed for like half an hour when I first saw this picture. No word on whether or not it's been renamed after me. One can only hope.
I declare this meeting of the Midnight Society....closed.
So now I'm gonna tell it. Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story: The Tale of Bucknell & The Bridge
**********
Paul, Fundy, Noles, Schne, JV and I were in Indianapolis for spring break, attending first and second round games at the RCA Dome after stops in Chicago and Louisville. (Aside: this was the only spring break trip I took in college. Why? Because the first and second rounds of March Madness always fall during spring break, and I didn't ever want to miss them. When we were 19, Paul, Russell and Fundy went to Cancun, and I declined to go with, not because I couldn't afford it, not because it didn't sound like fun....because it was Kirk Hinrich and Nick Collison's senior year, and I didn't want to miss any of their final tournament games. So it's fitting that the only time I went anywhere during spring break, it was to attend games in person. I am a weirdo.)
So we're in the hotel room, eating a combined 700 buffalo wings and having some beers and watching games. The KU game wasn't televised, but I wasn't too concerned. I mean, it was Bucknell, right? As the game went on, though, and KU was failing to pull away, I started to mini-panic, and at halftime Fundy and I headed to a bar to watch it, while Paul and Noles stayed behind to rest their vaginas.
Blah blah blah, I get progressively drunker and angrier as KU fails to pull away. When Wayne Simien missed his best Christian Laettner impression (how did that shot not go in?) I literally crumple to the floor of the packed bar and lay there for a solid ten minutes-- my second most embarrassing moment as a sports fan, #1 being when Aaron Boone hit the walk-off in 2003 against the Red Sox and, fueled by a case of beer in my belly, I destroyed our parking lot with a hammer as terrified bystanders looked on.
After I got up and sat wordlessly at the bar for a few more minutes (Fundy knew not to say a word the whole time; he didn't even attempt to get me up off the floor) some drunk guy saw my KU shirt and started heckling me. I ignored him for a while, then turned to him and said something like "Look. I know you're bigger than me, and I've only thrown 3/4 of a punch in my entire life, and you'll probably kick my ass, but if you say one more word to me, we're going outside and settling this." He looked extremely confused and his friends dragged him off-- we learned later that it was his 21st birthday and was so drunk he pretty much didn't know where he was.
So a couple of his friends, some pretty attractive girls from Wisconsin, came over to apologize and buy Fundy and I a round of shots. I was still in "get the fuck away from me, I'm not capable of interacting with humans" mode, but they wouldn't be denied, and soon they were buying round after round of patron for everyone while they talked me off the ledge. I don't think I paid for a drink in this bar.
Fast forward a couple hours, and this Wisconsin group (three girls, one regular guy, and the original drunk heckler, who is pretty much my best friend by this point) has talked Fundy and I into going dancing. I've kinda latched onto one girl in particular (I remember only two things about her: she was Hawaiian and her name started with a K. To use a famous quote from Dunph: I couldn't pick her out of a lineup of two. For purposes of the story, we'll call her Kahlua) and we are tearing up the dance floor. All of a sudden, Fundy comes sprinting through crowd, literally elbowing people out of the way. They're bumping 50 Cent pretty loud, but I can still hear him coming from a distance: "Jaaaaames! James! Ron Artest just walked in! Jaaaaaaames!"
This was about four months after the infamous melee in Detroit, so after a few minutes of us making the obligatory "I'll give you 100 bucks to lob a beer at him and see if he starts another brawl" jokes, we attempt to talk to him. We're quickly pushed aside by his giant entourage, and while we're regrouping, Artest notices "my" girl and beckons her over. I say "my" girl because while I was pseudo-dating a girl at the time, and wasn't about to bring Kahlua back to our hotel or anything, it was pretty clear that she was down for some just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels.
Kahlua is terrified to talk to the craziest player in the NBA, in the middle of about ten massive bodyguards to boot (weird right?) but we eventually convince her to go, hoping that she is our ticket into partying with Ron Artest and his posse the rest the night. Alas, it has the opposite effect, and we don't see Kahlua again, and eventually leave the bar to walk back to the hotel.
Here's where my personal plane crashed. The memories of dancing with my Hawaiian beauty and the thrill of seeing Ron Artest start fading, and the memories of KU losing to Bucknell seep back in. I get more and more depressed the longer we walk, and the last conscious memory I have is changing into a hooded sweatshirt, loading as many beers as my pockets will possibly hold, and leaving the hotel again.
The next morning I wake up on a bridge near our hotel, a pile of empties around my body, some more floating in the canal below (sorry city of Indianapolis) and absolutely freezing my balls off.
Why am I telling this story now: I was creeping around Facebook a while ago and found this picture belonging to JV's sister, who was visting Indianapolis:
That's right friends. To the right is the hotel we stayed at, in the foreground is the glorious Indianapolis Canal, and off there in the distance is my sleeping bridge. I know, you have to squint a bit (Enhance. Enhance. Enhance.) but I promise that is it. I laughed for like half an hour when I first saw this picture. No word on whether or not it's been renamed after me. One can only hope.
I declare this meeting of the Midnight Society....closed.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
28
I've been 28 years old for around 15 hours now and I already hate it. Mentally I still feel like I'm 13 or 14. Will I EVER stop playing Super Nintendo and Sega? How long until it's officially creepy that I think Selena Gomez and other Disney stars are hot? And physically I feel like I'm around 60. Don't let anyone ever tell you that back injuries are easy to recover from. I played pickup basketball last night for the first time in a while, and when games were done I just collapsed and laid there like Eight Belles.
I don't care about my birthday at all, and I never really have. I don't like having presents given to me, or special things done for me, or being the center of attention. I don't hate my birthday, I'm not the Grinch stealing Christmas or anything, I think it's just another day. I scheduled a dentist appointment for this morning, nobody could understand that. Plus I just don't like announcing it to everyone. Word got out around the office today, and then I was taking crap for not telling anyone it was my bday, but what am I gonna do, stroll in with a t-shirt that says it's my birthday, everyone come look at me? Plus I'm just feeling especially old today. Only two more years until 30? No thanks.
A bunch of the kids in the two-year-old classroom made me a birthday card (our offices are in a schoolhouse that is part of the organization.) Within three minutes, I had dropped it behind a giant file cabinet/shelf thing in my office. It is now gone forever, there's no way I'm moving that monstrosity. Hopefully the kids forgot they even made it for me.
The only two birthdays I've ever anticipated and properly enjoyed were 18 (I think I spent my first six weekends after turning 18 in the Shooting Star Casino) and 21 (no more running from the cops or pouring booze down the drain at parties.) One of my favorite games in college was Paul and I would try and get drunker than the birthday boy on each other's birthdays. It was an impressive feat, what with all the free shots the actual birthday boy would be taking. I'm happy to say that almost every year, we both succeeded. I miss college.
It works out nicely now because my friend CK's birthday is the 4th, so she has the official party for herself, and I slip under the radar and manage to squeak by with only a few unwanted shots. Here's what we were discussing the other night: when was the last time, if ever, you were excited to take a shot? Like someone walked up to you and handed you a shot and you were like "Yayyyyyyy, this is just what I felt like drinking right now! This beer was getting gross, I totally wanted to mix in some tequila right about now!" I think I've been grimacing at every shot that's been handed to me since about 2004.
Really, the only thing I want for my birthday is Brady Morningstar to bring back the baggy undershirt look tonight for the UCLA game. That would make my whole year.
I just wrote this stream-of-consciousness style and it took like three minutes. Nice. Might have to keep banging them out quick like that. That's what she said.
I don't care about my birthday at all, and I never really have. I don't like having presents given to me, or special things done for me, or being the center of attention. I don't hate my birthday, I'm not the Grinch stealing Christmas or anything, I think it's just another day. I scheduled a dentist appointment for this morning, nobody could understand that. Plus I just don't like announcing it to everyone. Word got out around the office today, and then I was taking crap for not telling anyone it was my bday, but what am I gonna do, stroll in with a t-shirt that says it's my birthday, everyone come look at me? Plus I'm just feeling especially old today. Only two more years until 30? No thanks.
A bunch of the kids in the two-year-old classroom made me a birthday card (our offices are in a schoolhouse that is part of the organization.) Within three minutes, I had dropped it behind a giant file cabinet/shelf thing in my office. It is now gone forever, there's no way I'm moving that monstrosity. Hopefully the kids forgot they even made it for me.
The only two birthdays I've ever anticipated and properly enjoyed were 18 (I think I spent my first six weekends after turning 18 in the Shooting Star Casino) and 21 (no more running from the cops or pouring booze down the drain at parties.) One of my favorite games in college was Paul and I would try and get drunker than the birthday boy on each other's birthdays. It was an impressive feat, what with all the free shots the actual birthday boy would be taking. I'm happy to say that almost every year, we both succeeded. I miss college.
It works out nicely now because my friend CK's birthday is the 4th, so she has the official party for herself, and I slip under the radar and manage to squeak by with only a few unwanted shots. Here's what we were discussing the other night: when was the last time, if ever, you were excited to take a shot? Like someone walked up to you and handed you a shot and you were like "Yayyyyyyy, this is just what I felt like drinking right now! This beer was getting gross, I totally wanted to mix in some tequila right about now!" I think I've been grimacing at every shot that's been handed to me since about 2004.
Really, the only thing I want for my birthday is Brady Morningstar to bring back the baggy undershirt look tonight for the UCLA game. That would make my whole year.
I just wrote this stream-of-consciousness style and it took like three minutes. Nice. Might have to keep banging them out quick like that. That's what she said.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Vince Young And Me: A Timeline
January 2006: Vince puts on a show at the Rose Bowl- probably the most entertaining college football game I've ever watched. But I'm not entirely convinced; Bergman and I get into a spirited debate (story for another time- it's probably my favorite blackout story ever) over who will have the better pro career through five years: Bergman takes VY, and I take Matt Leinart. Turns out they both completely sucked, but we're getting ahead of ourselves.
April 2006: VY is drafted by my favorite team, the Tennesee Titans. The bet is called off, since I can't be betting against the future success of my team's QB. I begin the process of talking myself into Vince as an NFL quarterback.
November 2006: VY gets his first chance and immediately produces. Exciting runs, breathtaking comebacks....I couldn't be more on the bandwagon. Heading into the offseason, optimism abounds.
September 2007: More of the same. VY starts out the season fantastic, and is quickly becoming my favorite player.
November-December 2007: The first signs that maybe VY isn't such a great QB appear. Erratic throws, questionable decisions, pouting on the sidelines....when Tennessee is unceremoniously bounced in the 1st round of the playoffs, I start to doubt the future a little bit.
September 2008: The wheels officially come off the bandwagon. VY gets booed, injured, benched, and is on suicide watch, all in a span of about 30 hours- although the exact details of that "suicide watch" continue to be elusive. After everything that has happened since, I kinda believe it now. There's no time to be too upset, though: Kerry Collins comes in and leads Tennessee to the #1 seed in the AFC....although Tennessee fails to win a playoff game for the second year in a row.
October 2009: After Tennessee starts 0-6, the owner orders VY to be put back in the starting lineup. He responds by going 8-2 the rest the year, and with Chris Johnson establishing himself as one of the best running backs in the league, I find myself climbing back on the Vince Young bandwagon. I keep my toesies dangling off the edge this time, though.
Summer of 2010: Magazine articles, news pieces, Vince Young finally has his head screwed on straight, this is the year he puts it all together, blah blah blah.
November 2010: VY gets booed, injured, benched, throws his pads into the stands, and storms out of the locker room, all in a span of about three hours. Also, while stomping out of the locker room, he screams at Coach Fisher: "I'm not walking out on the team! I'm walking out on YOU!" Are you fucking kidding me, Vince? Is this an episode of Friday Night Lights? Go the fuck home, you puss.
So that's where we are now. Not only am I off the Vince Young bandwagon forever, he now joins the exclusive club of all-time athletes from my favorite teams that I actively hate. Not just get annoyed with from time to time (Sherron Collins, JD Drew, Ernest Givins) but HATE. The only KU player I've ever hated was Eric Chenowith, whose basketball career was Benjamin Button-esque. Tyshawn Taylor was REAL close to joining him last year, but now he's kinda turned it around. For the Red Sox, Mark Bellhorn and Julio Lugo take the honors. And VY becomes the first Titan I've ever hated with a passion.
So in summation: eff you, Vince Young. You are dead to me.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Four Loko- Not So Loco
Had my first Four Loko on Saturday during tailgating. I was supremely disappointed. As expected, it tasted like poison, but despite having five beers before it, and somewhere in the double digits after it, I wasn't that fucked up. From the stories I had been hearing, I prepared myself for some serious shenanigans, but I really didn't notice that much of a difference in my buzz. I didn't do or say anything particularly ridiculous either. (For comparison, the last time I tailgated, I a) told my roommate's dad that if I ever slept with his daughter, I would give him a high-five- but I hadn't yet, so I was just going to shake his hand; and b) told another friend's mom that gambling on the Chiefs is like banging a fat girl: it seems like an OK idea at the time, but you don't tell any of your friends, and afterward you swear it will never happen again. I guess my parent filter was broken that day.
So as of Monday, Four Loko has been officially banned in the state of Kansas, but I can't say I see what the big deal is. College kids these days are just pussies if they are passing out and dying from that stuff.
I used this picture of this random guy that came up when I googled Four Loko only because he looks exactly like one of my cousins from Baltimore. In fact, if somebody told me it was him, I'd probably believe them. When we were growing up, we got along great and always looked forward to visiting each other. We traded baseball cards, played video games, played hot box and had infield practice, etc. etc. Now, um, we don't have very much in common. He routinely takes apart and rebuilds cars...I just learned how to operate my emergency brake last week. Also, there's nothing wrong with ZZ Top, per se...I could just never grow one of those beards with any success. We'll always have our childhood friendship, though.
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Hey, did you hear The Miz is the champion of the WWE? I don't watch wrestling or The Real World anymore, but I still think this is awesome. The Real World: New York season that The Miz was on was one of the last that I watched, and really for only two reasons: The Miz being awesome, and Coral's gigantic boobs (three reasons?) So kudos to you, Miz, you finally made it.
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For the first time since I moved down to Lawrence, my parents will be coming down for Thanksgiving, instead of me driving up. And of course the weather is gonna be dicey, so now the potential exists for them to not make it down in time. The only plus side to that is I would have my first ever Thanksgiving dinner with friends instead of family, or as Brother and I call it, a Beverly Hills 90210 holiday. We always loved how as soon as Jim and Cindy Walsh moved to Hong Kong, the gang didn't miss a beat, and everyone would just come over to Casa Walsh and have dinner together. Jim and Cindy never came back to visit once for the holidays. Merry Christmas, kids! See you next time we run short on storylines!
Have a good Thanksgiving weekend. This year, I'm most thankful for the KU baskeball ticket scandal finally being blown open, which resulted in an abundance of season ticket packages that previously were being stolen by the ticket department now being available this year, which resulted in me becoming a half-season ticket holder. It's the little things, you know?
Friday, November 19, 2010
This Almost Got Me
One question IQ test:
There is a mute who wants to buy a toothbrush. By imitating the action of brushing one’s teeth, he successfully expresses himself to the shopkeeper and the purchase is done.
Now, if there is a blind man who wishes to buy a pair of sunglasses, how should he express himself?
It took me longer than necessary to figure that out.
Two other random thoughts- it's Friday and I don't have anything else:
- You know what drives me nuts about TV shows and movies, that I just realized last night? All the characters that wear their watch on their right wrist. There's NO way that many people are lefties. That's a rookie move, if they are actually wearing their watch on their dominant hand. I can't get on board with that.
- Social Network kicked ass. The only time I can remember off the top of my head that the movie was wayyyy better than the book. I'm sure there are others, I just can't think right now (like I said, it's Friday.) Maybe Jurassic Park? Hurray For Hineywood?
- Now tangenting: Hurray For Hineywood was my first ever porno. Like so many other firsts in my young adulthood, in happened in Dunph's basement (WOW that sounds awful, but I'mma roll with it.) First alcholic drink- a teeny tiny bit of Everclear mixed with like 24 ounces of lemonade, and it was still disgusting; first chew; first time getting a Super Nintendo controller whipped at my face. My first cigarette was experienced elsewhere, however.
I think everyone should remember the title of their first porn. We were discussing this last weekend, and I was surprised at how many people didn't remember their first. It's an important moment in a young man's life (or young woman's life- HOT.) How many of you remember your first?
There is a mute who wants to buy a toothbrush. By imitating the action of brushing one’s teeth, he successfully expresses himself to the shopkeeper and the purchase is done.
Now, if there is a blind man who wishes to buy a pair of sunglasses, how should he express himself?
It took me longer than necessary to figure that out.
Two other random thoughts- it's Friday and I don't have anything else:
- You know what drives me nuts about TV shows and movies, that I just realized last night? All the characters that wear their watch on their right wrist. There's NO way that many people are lefties. That's a rookie move, if they are actually wearing their watch on their dominant hand. I can't get on board with that.
- Social Network kicked ass. The only time I can remember off the top of my head that the movie was wayyyy better than the book. I'm sure there are others, I just can't think right now (like I said, it's Friday.) Maybe Jurassic Park? Hurray For Hineywood?
- Now tangenting: Hurray For Hineywood was my first ever porno. Like so many other firsts in my young adulthood, in happened in Dunph's basement (WOW that sounds awful, but I'mma roll with it.) First alcholic drink- a teeny tiny bit of Everclear mixed with like 24 ounces of lemonade, and it was still disgusting; first chew; first time getting a Super Nintendo controller whipped at my face. My first cigarette was experienced elsewhere, however.
I think everyone should remember the title of their first porn. We were discussing this last weekend, and I was surprised at how many people didn't remember their first. It's an important moment in a young man's life (or young woman's life- HOT.) How many of you remember your first?
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Slam Bam Jam
College basketball is finally back!
- After last year's first round debacle, add Northern Iowa to the list of teams that my friends like, and I would love to support, but now am obligated to hate. (Duke does NOT fall into this category. I've hated them almost since the day I started following college basketball, and if you are a Duke fan you have no soul.) I have a lot of North Carolina friends. I kinda enjoyed UNC as a kid; they always had cool players- Rasheed Wallace, Jerry Stackhouse, Vince Carter before he became a money-stealing pussy, Shammond Williams, etc. etc. Then Ol' Roy left KU for Carolina. Sorry Fundy and others, but I have to hate them now. Ditto Kentucky, I usually enjoyed their teams back in the day, then they hired the Antichrist Calipari, now I have to hate them on principle. I never hated Syracuse until they beat KU in the title game (although Jim Boeheim is becoming quite the little bitch the older he gets; I have a feeling I'd hate them now anyways.) And now Northern Iowa. I always supported Jonye's team in the past, even cheering for the little guys sometimes, since they were a mid-major. Now, fuck that.
- Here's the silver lining I'm taking from the UNI loss last year: Now I can be absolutely diehard about a championship again. After winning in 2008, then being the best team in the country and #1 overall seed going into the tourney just two years later, I felt just a tad bit guilty (most of that guilt went away during Selection Sunday, when KU got fucked in their bracket while Duke got to walk to the Final Four.) Two championships in three years would've left me feeling spoiled. But adding another early-round exit as a high seed got me thinking. Besides the championship year, here's what I've lived through as a Jayhawk fan:
- 1991: lost championship game to hated Duke
- 1992: lost in second round as a #1 seed
- 1997: lost in Sweet 16 as #1 overall seed
- 1998: lost in second round as a #1 seed
- 2002: lost in Final Four (which led to a rule change that started seeding the #1 seeds so the two best teams couldn't play before the championship, shocker that KU got fucked by that lack of a rule)
- 2003: lost in championship game by 3 points
- 2005: lost in 1st round as a #3 seed
- 2006: lost in 1st round as a #4 seed
- 2007: lost in Elite 8 (when they had to play UCLA in San Jose, even though KU was the #1 seed, are you kidding me?)
- 2010: lost in second round as #1 overall seed
So the edge is back. My game face is on.
Non-KU thoughts:
- There is a HUGE gap between Duke & Michigan St. and everyone else. Not quite North Carolina in 2008-2009 situation, but damn close. Those two teams are stacked. Like Jennifer Love-Hewitt in 1999 stacked. Kansas St. is a solid top-10 or 15 team, but look horrid ranked #3. Ditto KU at #7. They've got a loooong way to go before I believe they'll make the Elite 8. If you make me pick a team to go all the way, as of today, that isn't Duke or Michigan St., I'm going with Ohio St. They lost Evan Turner and might be even better this year. Fo' serious.
- Normally I'd be doing a dance and laughing about how Calipari's latest recruit, Enes Kanter, was deemed ineligible for the entire year (at least we knew in advance that this one had accepted money) but with Josh Selby not cleared to play yet for KU, I figure it would be bad karma.
- Get Pittsburgh and Villanova out of the top 10. Those two teams are horribly overrated, and I will spend the winter and spring making money gambling against them. I still need to find my team that I think is much better than Vegas does, so I can load up early and often on them before the lines catch up. Two years ago it was Oklahoma, last year it was West Virginia. That spot is still open as of now. Minnesota? Arizona?
- Either this is a really down year in college ball, or Harrison Barnes is gonna be really good and I can't see it yet. How he makes the preseason All-American first team, when not even John Wall, Kevin Durant, Greg Oden, or any freshman EVER was good enough, is beyond me. Maybe I'm just bitter because he grew up only three hours from Lawrence, and Coach Self couldn't get him to go to KU. (Also, don't tell anybody, but Marcus Morris might be really, really good this year. Maybe even good enough to take Barnes' spot on the first team after the season. Shhhhhh.)
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In non-college bball-related news, I am officially an idiot. Instead of just letting Lane and Jud's joke run its course, I had to blog about it, which opened the door for a bunch of other friends to start in on the "sorry about your illness" shenanigans. My facebook wall is in shambles. To quote Ricky Gervais in Night at the Museum, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice....take it or leave it."
Freeeeee Selby!
Friday, November 12, 2010
Pourin' Like An Avalanche Comin' Down A Mountain
>> The latest song to infiltrate and subsequently dominate my brain: a bluegrass version of 'Jump' by Van Halen. When I first heard it in a bar a few weeks ago, I was instantly smitten, and went straight home to download it that night. Then, after I listened to it up close a few times, I was vascillating between "This is the best song I've heard all year" and "This is the most gawd-awful piece of shit song EVER." Now I am solidly on board. This song is awesome. Although I think it could possibly be better as an instrumental, if David Lee Roth wasn't doing his David Lee Roth thing and David Lee Rothing it all up. Either way, one of my favorite songs of 2010.
>> It's been well documented that my friends are dicks. No real surprises there. Currently, Jud and Lane are spearheading a crusade to fill up my Facebook wall with messages implying that something is seriously wrong with my health- because they think it's funny when people take those seriously and comment with things like ''OMG! Are you OK? What happened?'' And even though virtually nobody is joining in on the joke, they haven't given up yet. Just the latest example in a long line of dickish moves.
So when I received a package in the mail from Morley the other day, I was instantly skeptical. I was still a bit wary from the last time I received a package from a friend, and my roommate and I spent a solid ten minutes analyzing the box, trying to determine if it was an Ice or some other kind of prank. When I opened it and saw it was a framed picture of us at the Chiefs game from when he and Fundy visited in September, I was just like "Oh. That's unexpected."
Moral of the story: if I'm surprised when a friend gives me an actual present in the mail, it might be time for new friends.
Later Skaters. Have a good weekend. Free Selby!
>> It's been well documented that my friends are dicks. No real surprises there. Currently, Jud and Lane are spearheading a crusade to fill up my Facebook wall with messages implying that something is seriously wrong with my health- because they think it's funny when people take those seriously and comment with things like ''OMG! Are you OK? What happened?'' And even though virtually nobody is joining in on the joke, they haven't given up yet. Just the latest example in a long line of dickish moves.
So when I received a package in the mail from Morley the other day, I was instantly skeptical. I was still a bit wary from the last time I received a package from a friend, and my roommate and I spent a solid ten minutes analyzing the box, trying to determine if it was an Ice or some other kind of prank. When I opened it and saw it was a framed picture of us at the Chiefs game from when he and Fundy visited in September, I was just like "Oh. That's unexpected."
Moral of the story: if I'm surprised when a friend gives me an actual present in the mail, it might be time for new friends.
Later Skaters. Have a good weekend. Free Selby!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Uncy Aaron: Best Basketball Coach Ever
High school basketball had its ups and downs for me. While I love the sport of basketball, and still play a couple times a week, practicing and having to answer to a coach was just never for me (a microcosm of my entire life, if there ever was one.) As a result, I quit after Sophomore year. One of the biggest memories of my short-lived high school basketball career was our coach, affectionately called Uncy Aaron because, as an older brother of one of our friends, we had known him since we were just little tykes. His rants/biting comments were the stuff of legend. Here are some of my favorites:
- One member of the team who shall remain nameless (it was much easier four years ago, when only like 20 people read this blog and I could throw around real names like it was no big deal- although I doubt this guy would be that pissed, he had to know he wasn't exactly Reggie Miller out there) was an absolutely horrible shooter, yet still put up his fair share of jump shots. When it invariably missed, he had a habit of staring at his hands in disbelief as he went back down the court on defense. Needless to say, he was a favorite target of Uncy Aaron. When he was getting pulled from the game after another airball, and was on his way to the bench and had to walk past the coaches, I practically held my breath and did everything short of pull out a tape recorder in anticipation of these gems:
"Hey! When you woke up this morning, did someone tell you that you were a good shooter? No? Then QUIT SHOOTING!"
"Oh, I get it, it's your hands' fault you missed that one?!?! Hey don't worry, just grab a new pair and I'm sure you'll get rim on the next one...."
"You wanna stare at your hands some more?!? Go to the end of the bench and bury your face in them, I'm sure you'll get a great look!"
12 years later, I still use the "When you woke up this morning, did someone tell you _____?" line, it's one of my all-time favorites. I just used it the other day, which was the impetus for writing this post.
- Freshman and Sophomore year, most of my friends and I fell in love with wrestling again, during its big comeback, with nWo and Sting and all that crap. Admittedly, we were pretty ridiculous. We always had around 15 minutes or so before practice to shoot around and screw off, so we would have three-point shooting contests and stuff like that. Except that the winner became the "Heavyweight Champion", and in order to "challenge" him to a "title match", you had to win your "challenger matches" or win the "Battle Royal" or some other wrestling shenanigan. Suffice it to say that Uncy Aaron wasn't a part of the wrestling craze this time around, and let us know that fact every chance he got. Usually by walking into the gym and beginning practice by yelling "All right, quit with your tag-team matches or whatever you idiots are doing! God you guys are dumb. Shouldn't you be out trying to get laid instead of watching wrestling?"
One time during the first half of a game, Carson was driving the lane, so Lane cleared out of his spot on the low block, letting his man step in and block Carson's layup. At halftime, Uncy Aaron wasn't pleased:
Uncy Aaron: What WAS that, Lane? Why would you just move out of the way instead of setting a screen or something?
Lane: Well, I was just trying to get out-
Uncy Aaron, getting progressively louder and more annoyed: Trying to get out of his way WHY, Lane? So he didn't catch a turnbuckle? Is this wrestling, Lane?!? Is this the nWo, Laaane?!?! ARE YOU HOLLYWOOD HOGAN, LAAAAAANE??!?!?!
Lane: .........(speechless for probably the only time in his entire life)
That outburst, particularly the line "catch a turnbuckle", was probably the funniest thing I heard during the entire calendar year of 1998. It made absolutely NO sense at the time, and even less the more you replay it in your head. You just know Uncy Aaron had been gearing up for an anti-wrestling rant, and that play was the excuse to do it. And that was pretty much the end of our wrestling-themed, pre-practice, three-point shootouts.
- This one is part Uncy Aaron, part Brooksy. We're playing crosstown rival Central, the "poor" school in town, as opposed to us being the "rich" school in town. While it's true that more people have money at Red River than Central, there are still plenty of families at Central that make more money than I'll ever dream of. We're not talking about the Greasers and the Socs here, Ponyboy.
So Uncy Aaron is giving us this impassioned pregame speech to fire us up, stuff like "they're from the wrong side of the tracks" and "they've had to work for everything to get where they are" and "their whole season hinges on beating you guys, because they resent everything that you guys and your families are about".....just hilarious stuff. Like we're from Beverly Hills, and we're on our way to play a road game in Compton or something. So most of us are just trying to keep from laughing, when he asks the question "Seriously, have you guys ever had to work for a single thing in your entire lives?!?!"
Brooksy, god bless him, raises his hand and answers the (obviously rhetorical) question in his most solemn tone: "Well, Coach, my family used to live in a trailer when I was a little kid."
It was at that point that the entire team busted into hysterics and Aaron dismissed us from the locker room. But apparently something worked; we beat Central by 30 that night. Probably because their families couldn't afford to buy them nice enough basketball shoes or something.
- One member of the team who shall remain nameless (it was much easier four years ago, when only like 20 people read this blog and I could throw around real names like it was no big deal- although I doubt this guy would be that pissed, he had to know he wasn't exactly Reggie Miller out there) was an absolutely horrible shooter, yet still put up his fair share of jump shots. When it invariably missed, he had a habit of staring at his hands in disbelief as he went back down the court on defense. Needless to say, he was a favorite target of Uncy Aaron. When he was getting pulled from the game after another airball, and was on his way to the bench and had to walk past the coaches, I practically held my breath and did everything short of pull out a tape recorder in anticipation of these gems:
"Hey! When you woke up this morning, did someone tell you that you were a good shooter? No? Then QUIT SHOOTING!"
"Oh, I get it, it's your hands' fault you missed that one?!?! Hey don't worry, just grab a new pair and I'm sure you'll get rim on the next one...."
"You wanna stare at your hands some more?!? Go to the end of the bench and bury your face in them, I'm sure you'll get a great look!"
12 years later, I still use the "When you woke up this morning, did someone tell you _____?" line, it's one of my all-time favorites. I just used it the other day, which was the impetus for writing this post.
- Freshman and Sophomore year, most of my friends and I fell in love with wrestling again, during its big comeback, with nWo and Sting and all that crap. Admittedly, we were pretty ridiculous. We always had around 15 minutes or so before practice to shoot around and screw off, so we would have three-point shooting contests and stuff like that. Except that the winner became the "Heavyweight Champion", and in order to "challenge" him to a "title match", you had to win your "challenger matches" or win the "Battle Royal" or some other wrestling shenanigan. Suffice it to say that Uncy Aaron wasn't a part of the wrestling craze this time around, and let us know that fact every chance he got. Usually by walking into the gym and beginning practice by yelling "All right, quit with your tag-team matches or whatever you idiots are doing! God you guys are dumb. Shouldn't you be out trying to get laid instead of watching wrestling?"
One time during the first half of a game, Carson was driving the lane, so Lane cleared out of his spot on the low block, letting his man step in and block Carson's layup. At halftime, Uncy Aaron wasn't pleased:
Uncy Aaron: What WAS that, Lane? Why would you just move out of the way instead of setting a screen or something?
Lane: Well, I was just trying to get out-
Uncy Aaron, getting progressively louder and more annoyed: Trying to get out of his way WHY, Lane? So he didn't catch a turnbuckle? Is this wrestling, Lane?!? Is this the nWo, Laaane?!?! ARE YOU HOLLYWOOD HOGAN, LAAAAAANE??!?!?!
Lane: .........(speechless for probably the only time in his entire life)
That outburst, particularly the line "catch a turnbuckle", was probably the funniest thing I heard during the entire calendar year of 1998. It made absolutely NO sense at the time, and even less the more you replay it in your head. You just know Uncy Aaron had been gearing up for an anti-wrestling rant, and that play was the excuse to do it. And that was pretty much the end of our wrestling-themed, pre-practice, three-point shootouts.
- This one is part Uncy Aaron, part Brooksy. We're playing crosstown rival Central, the "poor" school in town, as opposed to us being the "rich" school in town. While it's true that more people have money at Red River than Central, there are still plenty of families at Central that make more money than I'll ever dream of. We're not talking about the Greasers and the Socs here, Ponyboy.
So Uncy Aaron is giving us this impassioned pregame speech to fire us up, stuff like "they're from the wrong side of the tracks" and "they've had to work for everything to get where they are" and "their whole season hinges on beating you guys, because they resent everything that you guys and your families are about".....just hilarious stuff. Like we're from Beverly Hills, and we're on our way to play a road game in Compton or something. So most of us are just trying to keep from laughing, when he asks the question "Seriously, have you guys ever had to work for a single thing in your entire lives?!?!"
Brooksy, god bless him, raises his hand and answers the (obviously rhetorical) question in his most solemn tone: "Well, Coach, my family used to live in a trailer when I was a little kid."
It was at that point that the entire team busted into hysterics and Aaron dismissed us from the locker room. But apparently something worked; we beat Central by 30 that night. Probably because their families couldn't afford to buy them nice enough basketball shoes or something.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Reminder
We are now squarely in the time of year wherein I am reminded how much of a pussy I am. A huge percentage of my friends are taking work off today to go shoot animals. My friends that, while driving and happen to notice a flock of geese flying, aim an imaginary gun out the window and open fire on them. My friends that talk about flushing birds, tree stands, thirty-point bucks (don't get me started on that annoying song) etc. etc. etc.
Meanwhile, here is the complete list of guns that I have fired in my lifetime:
1. The gun from Duck Hunt- and I usually had to cheat and put the gun directly on the screen in order to hit any of those effing ducks. Yes, I was that guy. And fuck that dog that laughs at you, while we're at it. If I'm gonna hunt anything in my life, it's gonna be him.
2. A lasertag gun- and I was always pretty awful at that, but it worked in my advantage because getting shot by a lady was an excellent flirting tool, and those lasertag trips were all about hitting on the cute girls in our Wednesday night church group anyway. Also, the lasertag setup at the Air Force Base was sneaky good- it was sorta like the Complex multiplayer level of Goldeneye for N64. Damn, anyone wanna play lasertag right now?
3. The gun from Big Buck Hunter. I had always boycotted this barcade game (See what I did there? Combined bar and arcade to make barcade?) since in North Dakota, the popularity of this game is the main culprit for the removal of multiple Golden Tee machines in local bars. I finally broke the boycott and played....and got repeatedly trounced by a friend of mine, who also happens to be a girl. There's a common theme here somewhere.
4. A BB gun that looked EXACTLY like a real glock, that was given to me by some ruffians in elementary school (I hung out with EVERYONE in elementary school at one point or another. Grab a yearbook for Ben Franklin from 1989-1994, point to a random kid, and I've probably been to their house. Cool kids, nerds, hoodlums, everybody. I was a friend slut.) I hung out with these kids for a few days, we committed some petty elementary school-level crimes, and we never talked again. That is, until one day a few years later, when these two showed up at my front door looking shifty-eyed and asking if I had still had the gun. I returned it to them, then was unsurprised when I read a newspaper article the next morning that reported two youths had robbed a gas station (that just happened to be less than a block from where these guys lived.) They got away with it, as far as I know.
And that, my friends, is the list.
I'm sure that this weekend my dad, besides hunting and bonding with my brother, is also commemorating "If I Had Known How He Was Gonna Turn Out, I Might As Well Have Had a Daughter" weekend. I would send him a card, but Hallmark doesn't seem to have much for this occasion.
If my plan was to drag myself outside at the crack of dawn in the freezing cold to sit around for hours on end just for the opportunity to shoot at a living thing, I would just go ahead and end it right there. I'll stay inside, thanks. I've got beer in the fridge, and I'm balls deep in the Forest of Illusion for Super Mario World right now. But get out there and kill some deer for me, you know how much I love to eat venison.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Never Again
I just need to put this writing, because I need something to keep me from relapsing (again.) So consider this a contract with myself. I will never, ever ever ever ever ever EVER, gamble on a team quarterbacked by Donovan McNabb again. He represents the hot-yet-batshit crazy girl that I can't stop hooking up with even though I know it will end badly, so now I'm finally deleting her phone number and changing my email address. Never again, Donovan. NEVER again.
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