Van Damn! I just check the stats on my library of video shorts and Sine your bitty on the runny kine has broken the 2,000 views mark. Peeps jousting is a distant second with just under 1,000. Troll Hating and Mo betta jousting gets no love with less tha 25 views a piece.
Just some random facts.
That is all.
Go about your day.
Doodads.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Autoweek Volume 1
As far as the ole' stang goes, it was quite possibly the fastest car I have ever been in. Truth be told, I once rear-ended a bird trying to fly away from me. The car also had an amazing trick. Press in the clutch, cock the wheel all the way to one side, rev the engine to 5K and dump it and you could pretty much do a u-turn without moving. The car also goes 150 MPH and that's all I am going to elaborate about that.
The last thing I will say is that cops hated that car. I received my first (and last) ticket(s) in that car. It had a hard life (before I owned it of course). It started as a demo and then was bought by some kid in Waldorf before it came into my possession. He promised me it was never raced, despite having several thousand dollars worth of racing upgrades and 1/4 mile slip showing 13s. He sweared it was just one pass, just to see what it could do. I was gullible teenager. The car leaned funny and the frame developed stress factures so bad that a body shop fixed it, but didn't charge me because they had never seen anything like that and were worried of being liable for something going horribly wrong.
We had a good run, but after 3 years, I put the stang out to pasture thanks to the never ending supply of speed hungry gullible teenagers from Waldolf looking to buy a mustang.
The life and times of Mr. Happy
Right now, you are asking yourself, who the heck is Mr. Happy?
Is he the same guy from the Roger Hargreaves series?
No, not in this case.
When I refer to Mr. Happy, I am, in fact, referring to a wooden spoon that my mother's friend would use to discipline her kids, ala Catholic school nun ruler beating across the tops of your hand style.
Thankfully, my parents, being the enlightend folk they are, were never big into the whole corporal punishment scene.
However, they did try the spoon trick. Once.
I'm don't remember what, exactly, I did wrong, but I am sure I went out of my way to earn the fabled spoon smack. What I do remember is laughing at the first recourse of my actions...a hand smack. My foolish courage was rewarded with a upgraded punishment, Mr. Happy Style.
Like the sad clown, I laughed no more and retreated to my bedroom in furious tears. There I lay, waiting, plotting, until I glanced over to my desk and a grand vision unfolded.
I knew what I must do. The sleeping hours could not come soon enough, but once they did, my mission began. I stealthily crept into the kitchen and abducted the wooden utensil which wronged me only hours before.
I took the spoon back to my room, sat at my desk and inserted the handle into my pencil sharpener. I then began cranking the handle and laughing like a 3 year old mad man. I wore that handle down to a mere nub of its former glory before returning it to the drawer to serve warning to other spoons.
I guess it worked, cause the spoon beatings ceased. Victory was mine!
Is he the same guy from the Roger Hargreaves series?
No, not in this case.
When I refer to Mr. Happy, I am, in fact, referring to a wooden spoon that my mother's friend would use to discipline her kids, ala Catholic school nun ruler beating across the tops of your hand style.
Thankfully, my parents, being the enlightend folk they are, were never big into the whole corporal punishment scene.
However, they did try the spoon trick. Once.
I'm don't remember what, exactly, I did wrong, but I am sure I went out of my way to earn the fabled spoon smack. What I do remember is laughing at the first recourse of my actions...a hand smack. My foolish courage was rewarded with a upgraded punishment, Mr. Happy Style.
Like the sad clown, I laughed no more and retreated to my bedroom in furious tears. There I lay, waiting, plotting, until I glanced over to my desk and a grand vision unfolded.
I knew what I must do. The sleeping hours could not come soon enough, but once they did, my mission began. I stealthily crept into the kitchen and abducted the wooden utensil which wronged me only hours before.
I took the spoon back to my room, sat at my desk and inserted the handle into my pencil sharpener. I then began cranking the handle and laughing like a 3 year old mad man. I wore that handle down to a mere nub of its former glory before returning it to the drawer to serve warning to other spoons.
I guess it worked, cause the spoon beatings ceased. Victory was mine!
Friday, April 28, 2006
clink clink clink...color printer come out to playeeaa!
We got a new color printer at work recently and are allowed to dispose of the old one in any fashion we see fit.
FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!
The Color printer gets it, after school, 3:00 behind the library!
Look for another infamous T15 epic 2:00 movie portraying its demise soon.
FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!
The Color printer gets it, after school, 3:00 behind the library!
Look for another infamous T15 epic 2:00 movie portraying its demise soon.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Run for the hills!
I know my post on strawberry hills was hard to comprehend for some of you non-visual thinkers, so now we have this.
In other news, me and the lady watched Dave Attel's Insomniac Comedy Tour this weekend. It wasn't too shabby. One joke was so intense, I laughed and farted simultaneously, much to me lady's alarm. Touche Mr. Attel.
Finally, I saw a clip on America's Funniest Home Video of a snowman on a highway being runover.
As confirmation of my future trip to the fiery gates, I laughed hysterically. For starters, the clip is pretty damn funny in its own right. Secondly, I once experienced a very similar circumstance first hand...back in the day and secondarily (ie I take no responsibility, I just so happened to be around when it happened) of course.
The main difference was in the snowman's location. Rather on a county approved road, it stood proudly on someone's front yard. We were driving around in one of my friend's mom's car, a 1989 Chevy caprice, and one of our other friends (not the one who's mom owned the car) was driving.
As we rolled down the block, the driver calls out "I don't like the way that snowman looked at me" and proceeded to 180 the car, and floor it across the lawn mowing down frosty in the process.
Pretty deviant, eh? Well try and google snowman and car on google images and just look at what some twisted donkey thought up...
Maybe there is still hope for me after all.
Probably not.
In other news, me and the lady watched Dave Attel's Insomniac Comedy Tour this weekend. It wasn't too shabby. One joke was so intense, I laughed and farted simultaneously, much to me lady's alarm. Touche Mr. Attel.
Finally, I saw a clip on America's Funniest Home Video of a snowman on a highway being runover.
As confirmation of my future trip to the fiery gates, I laughed hysterically. For starters, the clip is pretty damn funny in its own right. Secondly, I once experienced a very similar circumstance first hand...back in the day and secondarily (ie I take no responsibility, I just so happened to be around when it happened) of course.
The main difference was in the snowman's location. Rather on a county approved road, it stood proudly on someone's front yard. We were driving around in one of my friend's mom's car, a 1989 Chevy caprice, and one of our other friends (not the one who's mom owned the car) was driving.
As we rolled down the block, the driver calls out "I don't like the way that snowman looked at me" and proceeded to 180 the car, and floor it across the lawn mowing down frosty in the process.
Pretty deviant, eh? Well try and google snowman and car on google images and just look at what some twisted donkey thought up...
Maybe there is still hope for me after all.
Probably not.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
It's bad luck just seeing a thing like that...
Forget Lost in Translation, go see Quick Change for an epic peformance from Bill Murray as a bank robbing clown and as an added bonus, quite possibly one of the best movie scenes of all times*
*in 1990 only
*in 1990 only
Friday, April 21, 2006
TSA Tonto and tres fish tacos...
It must be friday with a title like that, woo-haa got ya all in check!
So I have nil in terms of substance to blog about this PM but that's never stopped me before. Here are two things I'd like to share:
I had fish tacos for lunch today and they were fish-licious. Admittedly, I was a bit scarred to try them, but felt that with enough Cholula, anything is edible. Surprisingly they were not half-bad. Just 1/3 bad.
And from the "Oh that can't be good" vault, a snippet from yesterday's experience with the LAX TSA (airport security). The guard was of american indian/professional wrestler heritage. He was as diesal as they come and eyeballed my luggage tag and says to me "Custer.....any relation?" I wisely said "no" and his reply "Good...better not be...and how" Ok I added the "and how."
That is all.
So I have nil in terms of substance to blog about this PM but that's never stopped me before. Here are two things I'd like to share:
I had fish tacos for lunch today and they were fish-licious. Admittedly, I was a bit scarred to try them, but felt that with enough Cholula, anything is edible. Surprisingly they were not half-bad. Just 1/3 bad.
And from the "Oh that can't be good" vault, a snippet from yesterday's experience with the LAX TSA (airport security). The guard was of american indian/professional wrestler heritage. He was as diesal as they come and eyeballed my luggage tag and says to me "Custer.....any relation?" I wisely said "no" and his reply "Good...better not be...and how" Ok I added the "and how."
That is all.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Strawberry Hills Forever
yeah yeah yeah, I know the tune is strawberry fields forever, but how many of us are experts on Beatle's lyrics (especially in light of itunes ban)?
As promised, I have a wicked good stock of material to blog about thanks to this past weekend's trip to the big rich and the strawberry field's horseraces...dueling ice luges, 15ft beer bongs, horse paralysis (temporarily), portable toilets, portable stripper poles, wanna-be braveheart, the world's most pimp pants, me being compared to 1980s peanut butter, crying on the bus ride home, drooling on the bus ride home, sunburn, steel pail full of tater tots and 22 oz. PBR tall boys.
Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on who you ask) the camera which documented all this insanity is still in the big rich, along with out lawn chairs and a bag of random stuff, so at this time, no photographic evidence is available.
As promised, I have a wicked good stock of material to blog about thanks to this past weekend's trip to the big rich and the strawberry field's horseraces...dueling ice luges, 15ft beer bongs, horse paralysis (temporarily), portable toilets, portable stripper poles, wanna-be braveheart, the world's most pimp pants, me being compared to 1980s peanut butter, crying on the bus ride home, drooling on the bus ride home, sunburn, steel pail full of tater tots and 22 oz. PBR tall boys.
Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on who you ask) the camera which documented all this insanity is still in the big rich, along with out lawn chairs and a bag of random stuff, so at this time, no photographic evidence is available.
Here's a disturbing fact...
and it must be true cause I read it on the Internet or maybe I overheard it somewhere, it doesn't really matter, who's gonna let proper citation get in the way of an interesting tid bit.
Every 10 years, your mattress doubles in weight due to dust mites and shedded dead skin cells.
Every 10 years, your mattress doubles in weight due to dust mites and shedded dead skin cells.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Does he know how to build a flying machine?
Monday, April 10, 2006
Hold the phones! That's nacho cheese...
Thank you for the early wedding present google!
Interesting comments also found...
That nacho cheese fountain is so delightfully white trash! It makes me want to plan some sort of event just so I can have one!
Will this work with mayonnaise?
How about guacamole?
Quality Control
Isn't it funny how certain traits become evident at such a young age?
Why just last week, in a bout of office stress relief, I decided to ride my office chair like a scooter into a co-worker's office, only to yell RAMMING SPEED and collide into his desk. During this episode, my coworker's remarked, "Man, I knew you were up to no good cause you had that deviant look on your face."
I know that look. It is the same look evident in about a quarter dozen childhood pics where I was, no doubt, considering some shenanigans for the camera.
Another trait which emerged when I was quite young is my passion for quality control. Inconsistancy is the bane of my existance. Perhaps my favorite example of exercising quality control coupled with psychological sibling warfare comes from when my older sister was in the girl scouts, many moons ago.
Sure they sold cookies back then, but not like nowadays. In the late 70s, you had 1 shot at getting thin mints and tag-a-longs annually and you have to pre-order AND pre-pay. My sister did her duty, making the neighborhood rounds drumming up 50 or so orders and 8-10 weeks later, several crates of cookies arrived on our doorstep.
The arrival was most likely mid-week, so our parents thought the hall closet would be a safe place to store the cookies until the weekend, when my sister could distribute the goods.
It was at this point, where my penchant for quality control came into play. As you see, I decided to sample the goods, but in a highly regimented fashion. I opened every last damn box and ate exactly 1 cookie from each one.
Saturday morning came and I would imagine my sister was pretty much flabergasted not only at the cookie carnage which lay in the closet, but at the prospect that she would now have to face all of her customers and tell them there would be no cookies for them this year. Christ, it must have been like denying christmas for some of these people. Nevermind the fact that my parents had to pony up $300 bucks to cover the slightly used cookie stash.
While I feel a little bad about it now, I imagine I took some perverse sense of empowerment over the situation at the time (and chalked a victory in the brother vs sister war which lasted nearly 16 years).
Why just last week, in a bout of office stress relief, I decided to ride my office chair like a scooter into a co-worker's office, only to yell RAMMING SPEED and collide into his desk. During this episode, my coworker's remarked, "Man, I knew you were up to no good cause you had that deviant look on your face."
I know that look. It is the same look evident in about a quarter dozen childhood pics where I was, no doubt, considering some shenanigans for the camera.
Another trait which emerged when I was quite young is my passion for quality control. Inconsistancy is the bane of my existance. Perhaps my favorite example of exercising quality control coupled with psychological sibling warfare comes from when my older sister was in the girl scouts, many moons ago.
Sure they sold cookies back then, but not like nowadays. In the late 70s, you had 1 shot at getting thin mints and tag-a-longs annually and you have to pre-order AND pre-pay. My sister did her duty, making the neighborhood rounds drumming up 50 or so orders and 8-10 weeks later, several crates of cookies arrived on our doorstep.
The arrival was most likely mid-week, so our parents thought the hall closet would be a safe place to store the cookies until the weekend, when my sister could distribute the goods.
It was at this point, where my penchant for quality control came into play. As you see, I decided to sample the goods, but in a highly regimented fashion. I opened every last damn box and ate exactly 1 cookie from each one.
Saturday morning came and I would imagine my sister was pretty much flabergasted not only at the cookie carnage which lay in the closet, but at the prospect that she would now have to face all of her customers and tell them there would be no cookies for them this year. Christ, it must have been like denying christmas for some of these people. Nevermind the fact that my parents had to pony up $300 bucks to cover the slightly used cookie stash.
While I feel a little bad about it now, I imagine I took some perverse sense of empowerment over the situation at the time (and chalked a victory in the brother vs sister war which lasted nearly 16 years).
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Adventures in iTunes
My latest adventures in downloads and internet exploration have yielded the following booty:
Atlantic by Thrice Featured in the doughnut video linked in my previous post this haunting brit-pop track sounds like it took a bite out of Master P's "Pass me the Green" which took a bite out of the Halloween soundtrack. Mellow and Moody but I like it. I checked out some of their other tracks on I-tunes and was rather shocked that they are a punk group. It pink mohawks and torn ramones shirts are your cup of tee, then check out their punk cover of Send me an Angel. *original version featured in the BMX dance scene from RAD.
From the holy mackeral I've seen it all files comes Matisyahu, a Hasidic Jew who spits reggae chants like it's nobody's business. Check out King without a Crown and Close my eyes just want all you Sublime types would get a kick out of. He was recently feature in the post's sunday source. He's got skillz.
Speaking of reggae, most would consider Ini Kamoze a one hit wonder with his anthem "Here comes the hotstepper." Don't act like you don't know. This track is so commerical it got airplay at disneyland last time I was there. Anyhow, grab his track World a Reggae as an alternative to Damien Marley's "Welcome to Jamrock" they are pretty close to one another.
They were not lying when they grilled ole baldy from american idol for straight jackin Live's cover of Walk the Line. It is a pretty cool remake of the Man in Black's anthem. I think he would enjoy this rendition.
I know it's totally brokeback, but I am hooked on Grey's Anatomy and their money showcasing of songs. If you like music played in over-priced clothing stores with fancy flooring and dude couches, then you might want to give the Greenskeepers a try. Specifically Back in the Wild and You don't know me, which are perfect tracks to play in your loft while sipping moscow mules and discussing 3rd world politics.
In the Keepin it real department peep The Hit Man's Create & Devestate. Heavy samples, hip hop and free on I-tunes (for now). Decent rap compared to most stuff on the radio today. Still kinda sucks though.
Sunday 29th by Bent is another interesting selection. A little chickish but nice. Draws upon some old school Edie Brickell sounds and serve's them up with a taste of Justify my Thug from DangerMouse's Grey Album.
Anyhow just a few things to round out ye olde collection.
Atlantic by Thrice Featured in the doughnut video linked in my previous post this haunting brit-pop track sounds like it took a bite out of Master P's "Pass me the Green" which took a bite out of the Halloween soundtrack. Mellow and Moody but I like it. I checked out some of their other tracks on I-tunes and was rather shocked that they are a punk group. It pink mohawks and torn ramones shirts are your cup of tee, then check out their punk cover of Send me an Angel. *original version featured in the BMX dance scene from RAD.
From the holy mackeral I've seen it all files comes Matisyahu, a Hasidic Jew who spits reggae chants like it's nobody's business. Check out King without a Crown and Close my eyes just want all you Sublime types would get a kick out of. He was recently feature in the post's sunday source. He's got skillz.
Speaking of reggae, most would consider Ini Kamoze a one hit wonder with his anthem "Here comes the hotstepper." Don't act like you don't know. This track is so commerical it got airplay at disneyland last time I was there. Anyhow, grab his track World a Reggae as an alternative to Damien Marley's "Welcome to Jamrock" they are pretty close to one another.
They were not lying when they grilled ole baldy from american idol for straight jackin Live's cover of Walk the Line. It is a pretty cool remake of the Man in Black's anthem. I think he would enjoy this rendition.
I know it's totally brokeback, but I am hooked on Grey's Anatomy and their money showcasing of songs. If you like music played in over-priced clothing stores with fancy flooring and dude couches, then you might want to give the Greenskeepers a try. Specifically Back in the Wild and You don't know me, which are perfect tracks to play in your loft while sipping moscow mules and discussing 3rd world politics.
In the Keepin it real department peep The Hit Man's Create & Devestate. Heavy samples, hip hop and free on I-tunes (for now). Decent rap compared to most stuff on the radio today. Still kinda sucks though.
Sunday 29th by Bent is another interesting selection. A little chickish but nice. Draws upon some old school Edie Brickell sounds and serve's them up with a taste of Justify my Thug from DangerMouse's Grey Album.
Anyhow just a few things to round out ye olde collection.
In Australia, it's a day ahead...
It's like they know more. That's why the food is so good. It is from the future.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Time to make the Doughnuts...
Can anyone think of a better way to burn off a few extra minutes waiting for some friends to get home than taking Melady, The Guvness and Nabob to the rec field parking lot across the street to do some doughnuts in a station wagon? Only to get disapproving looks from the neighbors?
One of the things on my big ole list of things to do before I expire is to learn how to do a proper doughnut preferably without wrapping my car around a telephone pole or a Lindy sapling.
What's a Lindy sapling you ask?
Well it's only one of my mom's most favorite trees and quite a resilient breed at that. You see, a few years back, melady and I were on our way to a local state park for some hiking. We got about .4 miles from my parents house before she realized shoes would be a good addition to our hike. So I pulled a u turn and headed back to the house for proper footwear.
About 2 houses away, I asked, want to try something fun? She said OK.
Naturally I floored it, turned the wheel and pulled the e-brake in hopes of 180'ing into the driveway.
Now I am no math wiz, but I am pretty sure I missed the 180 by approximately 135 degrees, thus shooting the car directly in the line of site of the only baby tree in my parents yard. My mom's favorite tree. The lindy sapling. The tree that grows .5 inches annually. The tree that is old as me but only 3 feet tall and as thick as a pack of rolo's. The tree that was no match for my Mazda MX-6 GT Turbo.
Ole Lindy never saw it coming.
As I looked back I saw skid marks across the lawn, over the tree (now on the ground) right up to where my car was parked.
Oh Shizer, I better move the car, but what to do about the tree?
Simple, I ran over a propped the top half back up like nothing happened. Miraculously it stood on its own (or so it would until my dad's next lawn mowing excursion where the slightest brush with the John Deere would cause the tree to fold like a house of cards).
I felt bad about setting my pop up to be the patsy, so I came clean and told dear ole mom.
My mother had a puzzled look when she came outside and saw a pair of tire tracks on each side of the tree, but the tree was still standing. It was like an MC Escher painting. You saw the driverside tire track on the right of the tree, the passenger side on the left, but an upright tree in the middle. She didn't understand. Then she touched the tree and it fell like a wet noodle and I got the "OH BEN!"
I told here the spirit was strong in the tree and it would comeback. And it did. Sorta. It now stands proudly 8 inches above the ground.
Anyhow, happy Arbor day.
No it's not really Arbor day.
Is it?
One of the things on my big ole list of things to do before I expire is to learn how to do a proper doughnut preferably without wrapping my car around a telephone pole or a Lindy sapling.
What's a Lindy sapling you ask?
Well it's only one of my mom's most favorite trees and quite a resilient breed at that. You see, a few years back, melady and I were on our way to a local state park for some hiking. We got about .4 miles from my parents house before she realized shoes would be a good addition to our hike. So I pulled a u turn and headed back to the house for proper footwear.
About 2 houses away, I asked, want to try something fun? She said OK.
Naturally I floored it, turned the wheel and pulled the e-brake in hopes of 180'ing into the driveway.
Now I am no math wiz, but I am pretty sure I missed the 180 by approximately 135 degrees, thus shooting the car directly in the line of site of the only baby tree in my parents yard. My mom's favorite tree. The lindy sapling. The tree that grows .5 inches annually. The tree that is old as me but only 3 feet tall and as thick as a pack of rolo's. The tree that was no match for my Mazda MX-6 GT Turbo.
Ole Lindy never saw it coming.
As I looked back I saw skid marks across the lawn, over the tree (now on the ground) right up to where my car was parked.
Oh Shizer, I better move the car, but what to do about the tree?
Simple, I ran over a propped the top half back up like nothing happened. Miraculously it stood on its own (or so it would until my dad's next lawn mowing excursion where the slightest brush with the John Deere would cause the tree to fold like a house of cards).
I felt bad about setting my pop up to be the patsy, so I came clean and told dear ole mom.
My mother had a puzzled look when she came outside and saw a pair of tire tracks on each side of the tree, but the tree was still standing. It was like an MC Escher painting. You saw the driverside tire track on the right of the tree, the passenger side on the left, but an upright tree in the middle. She didn't understand. Then she touched the tree and it fell like a wet noodle and I got the "OH BEN!"
I told here the spirit was strong in the tree and it would comeback. And it did. Sorta. It now stands proudly 8 inches above the ground.
Anyhow, happy Arbor day.
No it's not really Arbor day.
Is it?
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Does pride not have a price?
Sweet Jebus!
I just got an email from ticketmaster stating the Soul II Soul is opening for Tim Mcgraw and Faith Hill.
Does anyone else think this is a bad idea?
In other tragic news, I have relinquished my 301 number. Giving up my last shred of old line state pride. My one false hope was for a new number that would be easy to remember or spell something funny. No such luck, unless you think 733T speak for pink is a real hoot.
On a mildly related sidenote, one of my very best childhood friends had the mother of all derived dirtiness telephone numbers which when spelled out on the keypad formed the lovely phrase WEEFUCK or alternately 933FUCK.
Lucky bastard.
I just got an email from ticketmaster stating the Soul II Soul is opening for Tim Mcgraw and Faith Hill.
Does anyone else think this is a bad idea?
In other tragic news, I have relinquished my 301 number. Giving up my last shred of old line state pride. My one false hope was for a new number that would be easy to remember or spell something funny. No such luck, unless you think 733T speak for pink is a real hoot.
On a mildly related sidenote, one of my very best childhood friends had the mother of all derived dirtiness telephone numbers which when spelled out on the keypad formed the lovely phrase WEEFUCK or alternately 933FUCK.
Lucky bastard.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
So you are stuck on a desert island...
And only had three cds you could listen to, what would they be?
For me, I would have to say...
Everything but the Girl -- Tempermental
Pure electronic bliss, not too fast, nor too slow. Tracey Thorn's vocals synch up deliciously with Ben Watt's beats. Relatively unknown to the masses minus that one track "Missing--you know the one And I miss you...like the deserts miss the rain." That was originally more of a rock track until Todd Terry remixed it and sent it off into the stratosphere of clubland. Realizing the success of mixing electronica into their music, their following album split out about 50% electronic/50% brit pop. In their next album (Tempermental), EBTG reached full electronic transformation. Very nice and loungey, quite similiar to the genre known as San Francisco house which is characterized by moderate tempo, rich soulful vocals, and deep driving beats.
A Tribe Called Quest -- Midnight Marauders
It simply does not get any better than this. Top drawer production associated with fond memories. I remember riding in the back of a friend's tempo, rocking this album on cassette tape while drinking a 40 of Old English out of a brown paper bag on the way to a club in DC known as The Roxy. It was a reggae venue which, like many DC clubs, evolved into something totally different, Five. For me this album is as much about the memories as it is the content, both of which are incredible. Lyrically, this album is fun but includes social commentary (which is severely lacking in modern rap music). Tracks really cover alot of ground from the moody to the upbeat. For some unknown reason, I would religiously play this album while driving through Richmond on my way to and from college. The music just seemed like such a natural fit with driving through than city at night.
Deee-Lite -- World Clique
Ah yes, big ups to Miss Lady Kier, Dimitri and DJ Towa Tei. Known to most as one hit wonders with "groove is in the heart" and perhaps by a select few as a two hit wonder with "what is love" this groups is most sadly overlooked. For as different as my first two selections are, Deee-lite masterfully bridges the gap. They are, for the most part, an electronic Housey sounding group, but they have a love and appreciation (and respect) for hip-hop as evident by Q-tip's cameo on groove in the heart. Deee-lite released three albums and I have them all and they have some real gems that never got the attention they deserved.
So, if you had to pick three, what would they be?
For me, I would have to say...
Everything but the Girl -- Tempermental
Pure electronic bliss, not too fast, nor too slow. Tracey Thorn's vocals synch up deliciously with Ben Watt's beats. Relatively unknown to the masses minus that one track "Missing--you know the one And I miss you...like the deserts miss the rain." That was originally more of a rock track until Todd Terry remixed it and sent it off into the stratosphere of clubland. Realizing the success of mixing electronica into their music, their following album split out about 50% electronic/50% brit pop. In their next album (Tempermental), EBTG reached full electronic transformation. Very nice and loungey, quite similiar to the genre known as San Francisco house which is characterized by moderate tempo, rich soulful vocals, and deep driving beats.
A Tribe Called Quest -- Midnight Marauders
It simply does not get any better than this. Top drawer production associated with fond memories. I remember riding in the back of a friend's tempo, rocking this album on cassette tape while drinking a 40 of Old English out of a brown paper bag on the way to a club in DC known as The Roxy. It was a reggae venue which, like many DC clubs, evolved into something totally different, Five. For me this album is as much about the memories as it is the content, both of which are incredible. Lyrically, this album is fun but includes social commentary (which is severely lacking in modern rap music). Tracks really cover alot of ground from the moody to the upbeat. For some unknown reason, I would religiously play this album while driving through Richmond on my way to and from college. The music just seemed like such a natural fit with driving through than city at night.
Deee-Lite -- World Clique
Ah yes, big ups to Miss Lady Kier, Dimitri and DJ Towa Tei. Known to most as one hit wonders with "groove is in the heart" and perhaps by a select few as a two hit wonder with "what is love" this groups is most sadly overlooked. For as different as my first two selections are, Deee-lite masterfully bridges the gap. They are, for the most part, an electronic Housey sounding group, but they have a love and appreciation (and respect) for hip-hop as evident by Q-tip's cameo on groove in the heart. Deee-lite released three albums and I have them all and they have some real gems that never got the attention they deserved.
So, if you had to pick three, what would they be?
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
I was an upright vacuum in a past life
Or so I would like to believe as it would quickly explain why I get overly excited about the acquisition of new vacuum cleaners through out my life.
Nevermind the fact that Niven, my invisible friend lived in a vacuum cleaner during the formative years of my young life. That's a whole other story.
I distinctly remember when my parents purchased a hoover upright with headlights and a detachable dustbuster. It was pretty much like the Knight Rider of Vacuum cleaners. It even had a digital display where you could up the power from 3 LEDS to 5 with the press of a button. Totally Radical!
Needless to say, I wanted people to share in the excitement. At the time, my mother (who is a therapist) worked out of our home and I was telling one of her clients in the waiting room (IE our living room) all about the wonders to behold in the magestic hoover.
The client gave me a puzzled look and told me I was weird. Man, that is low, someone in therapy calling ME weird. I guess it is equally low that I am now writing this and making a subtle implication of pot and kettleness, thus suggesting people in therapy are weird, when the true fact of the matter is that WE ARE ALL WEIRD in some fashion but I digress.
Fast forward about 25 years when me and melady decide to buy our first vacuum together (awwwwwwww!) this past weekend.
After 30 seconds of online research, specifically reading a comment "It is the Shaq of vacuums" I was sold on the almighty Dyson. Due to our ownership of one Ms. Bailey "Rosa Parks" Peabody the first, our cat we opted for no ordinary dyson, but one who goes by the street name "The Animal."
How could you not get excited about a vacuum cleaner called "The Animal." Christ, it is only missing a small handheld unit called "The Hawk" and you basically have the greatest tag team of all time as vacuum cleaners. Sure it's purple, but so is grape soda and we all know even the staunchest of gangsta rappers can't hate on grape soda.
Nevermind the fact that Niven, my invisible friend lived in a vacuum cleaner during the formative years of my young life. That's a whole other story.
I distinctly remember when my parents purchased a hoover upright with headlights and a detachable dustbuster. It was pretty much like the Knight Rider of Vacuum cleaners. It even had a digital display where you could up the power from 3 LEDS to 5 with the press of a button. Totally Radical!
Needless to say, I wanted people to share in the excitement. At the time, my mother (who is a therapist) worked out of our home and I was telling one of her clients in the waiting room (IE our living room) all about the wonders to behold in the magestic hoover.
The client gave me a puzzled look and told me I was weird. Man, that is low, someone in therapy calling ME weird. I guess it is equally low that I am now writing this and making a subtle implication of pot and kettleness, thus suggesting people in therapy are weird, when the true fact of the matter is that WE ARE ALL WEIRD in some fashion but I digress.
Fast forward about 25 years when me and melady decide to buy our first vacuum together (awwwwwwww!) this past weekend.
After 30 seconds of online research, specifically reading a comment "It is the Shaq of vacuums" I was sold on the almighty Dyson. Due to our ownership of one Ms. Bailey "Rosa Parks" Peabody the first, our cat we opted for no ordinary dyson, but one who goes by the street name "The Animal."
How could you not get excited about a vacuum cleaner called "The Animal." Christ, it is only missing a small handheld unit called "The Hawk" and you basically have the greatest tag team of all time as vacuum cleaners. Sure it's purple, but so is grape soda and we all know even the staunchest of gangsta rappers can't hate on grape soda.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Peep Jousting 2006...
Weezie asketh and everyone shall receiveth!
My latest 2:00 documentary focuses on the seedy underworld of Peep fights.
This is the thunderdome of Peep Jousting. Things get out of hand pretty quick and soon an all out peep civil war erupts.
Watch at your own risk, as your lives may be changed forever.
My latest 2:00 documentary focuses on the seedy underworld of Peep fights.
This is the thunderdome of Peep Jousting. Things get out of hand pretty quick and soon an all out peep civil war erupts.
Watch at your own risk, as your lives may be changed forever.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Peep fight after school behind the library...
We have our first annual Peep jousting match scheduled for 17:00 hours EST.
Good luck to the marshmallow combatants. May the best peep win.
Good luck to the marshmallow combatants. May the best peep win.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Fly Robin Fly!
Nothing drives the 30 yr old dagger home faster than the album cover from which Fly Robin Fly (the #1 song from the day I was born) is found.
Can you dig it?
Sunday, March 19, 2006
I need a nap...
Have you ever said that after a trip to the grocery store? I have.
If you haven't, chances are, you've never been an introvert that's gone to Wegman's. Seriously, that place is like Harry Potter's camping tent. It looks like a typical sized grocery store from the outside. Once inside, however, you realize the place is bigger than the entire state of Rhode Island.
Good googely moogely, look just look at the wall of TP! It's like a freaking maze of two-ply.
They get props for selection for sure, but man, if you decide to go, you better block out 4 hours from you schedule, 6 if you need the post trip nap.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Who shaves Stevie Wonder?
I mean, really, is that some kind of cruel joke?
Does his stylist tell him "yeah the hobo is the new soul patch" as a passive aggressive means of payback?
Or perhaps does he shave himself and no one bother to tell him he missed a spot?
Inquiring minds must know!
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Friday, March 10, 2006
All Points Bulletin...
Does anyone have any idea where this place is?
Wiggidity-Wow! Now That's a slice of 40 ounce heaven. Either someone with photoshop is an evil tease or Kim's Mart (across from Nappy's Cue Lounge) has a serious contender for the crown of best selection east of the Ole Miss.
If you look closely you will find the Waldo of malt liquor, the PBR 40. Thought to be mythical by many, here we have photographic proof of its existence. What better way to bridge the worlds of Hill Billy and Billy Dee, but with a refreshing 40 ounces of beer voted America's best in 1892?
Thursday, March 09, 2006
In the news this week...
Scientists believe they found a new species of lobster and long lost relative of Bruce Vilanch.
Havin a Roni...
Searching for "Having a Roni/Vanilla Ice Lyrics" reveals...
"theres no lyrics its just Vanilla Ice beatboxing."
So sad.
Like playing Rock/Paper/Scissors with Jim Abbott*
*Jim Abbott, born without a right hand, played for Flint Central and pitched in major league baseball for 11 years.
PS Does anyone have access to video footage of a man boxing a kangaroo?
"theres no lyrics its just Vanilla Ice beatboxing."
So sad.
Like playing Rock/Paper/Scissors with Jim Abbott*
*Jim Abbott, born without a right hand, played for Flint Central and pitched in major league baseball for 11 years.
PS Does anyone have access to video footage of a man boxing a kangaroo?
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Monday, March 06, 2006
Rap is dead
Case in point Three six mafia was featured on the Oscars last night.
All in the man's plan to coopt true hip hop. First the easter bunny, now this.
For shame.
In other news I had a bowl of Borscht this weekend along with a rather potent russian beer that was supposedly a "stout" but looked like miller light in hue and tasted like leaded gasoline. After my second beer, melady said to slow down, as I was starting to smell like fire.
In a dinner conversation that was interesting and tasteless by many standards, an new idea was born (I think). The concept of a dive bar that caters to women who like women.
This concept emerged largely from a miscommunication and my own warped mind. Someone mentioned the possibility of going to a diVe bar after dinner. Someone else heard going to a dy!e (rhymes with mike) bar after dinner. I said why not both?
Is there such a thing? I imagine there may be such a place and it would be called the rusty softball and would feature a jukebox load with Melissa Etheridge and maybe some Tori Amos.
Anyhow I gotta go work. I suggest you do the same.
All in the man's plan to coopt true hip hop. First the easter bunny, now this.
For shame.
In other news I had a bowl of Borscht this weekend along with a rather potent russian beer that was supposedly a "stout" but looked like miller light in hue and tasted like leaded gasoline. After my second beer, melady said to slow down, as I was starting to smell like fire.
In a dinner conversation that was interesting and tasteless by many standards, an new idea was born (I think). The concept of a dive bar that caters to women who like women.
This concept emerged largely from a miscommunication and my own warped mind. Someone mentioned the possibility of going to a diVe bar after dinner. Someone else heard going to a dy!e (rhymes with mike) bar after dinner. I said why not both?
Is there such a thing? I imagine there may be such a place and it would be called the rusty softball and would feature a jukebox load with Melissa Etheridge and maybe some Tori Amos.
Anyhow I gotta go work. I suggest you do the same.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Supreme Court vs. GCHS Yearbook Staff
The loose theme of this post is going to revolve around senior quotes from the yearbook and is based largely on experiences of this past weekend.
Friday night served as one of those not too frequent enough reunion of your high school boyz occasion. We dined on the finest of Popeye's chicken and the maltiest of malt liquor while discussing the finer points of gangsta rap circa 1990-1994 and then HA-DO-KENing the taste out of each other's mouth in a PS2 sort of sense, by playing Street Fighter 2 on Capcom Classics.
Basically there are 2 key points I want to make here...first the events of the weekend pretty much put me in the "back in the day" mind set required to consider this topic and second, there is a distinct possibility that I will link to a related post to be, tenatively called "P!ss and a biscuit" from Brutha Ed's blog seeing as he writes the thing then shares the link (hence we get another Wicked-esque perspective of the evening's events).
Anyhow melady went out for the night while all of this ruckus occurred, and as Firefighter Matt so eloquently put it "Yeah she doesn't want to stick around for this horsesh!t." And good times ensued.
The following day, melady returned with stories that involved the discussion of evolutionary mathematics. WTF! As if you didn't have enough trouble with Bio and Math on there own. Some sick puppy combined these two subjects into a single pocket protector area of interest. The discussion included a mention of the fact that breakthroughs in the field would make Nietzsche hum with glee like a Llama about to be fed as they suggest, implicitly that God is dead.
This sparked a random memory of some kid from my high school's senior quote "God exists...I can prove it mathematically." I am not even going to comment on that kid's social status in the hell that was high school as that quote speaks for it self. The real pisser is the fact that my quote was repeatedly rejected on grounds of plagiarism and copyright infringement.
WTF (part 2)!!! Prior to my senior year, kids were putting all sorts of random things as quotes and proper citation was never an issue. Things done changed though and I fought tooth and nail to get a quote from a track from Dancehall Reggae don Supercat only to be stifled by "That's not a real name." According to my cassette tape it was. But those stringent yearbook staff power tripping F'rs had no love for me or my quote and as a result I went quoteless....until now.
"No good can come from hate, only cold thoughts and evil actions." --Supercat
BOOYAKA!
Friday night served as one of those not too frequent enough reunion of your high school boyz occasion. We dined on the finest of Popeye's chicken and the maltiest of malt liquor while discussing the finer points of gangsta rap circa 1990-1994 and then HA-DO-KENing the taste out of each other's mouth in a PS2 sort of sense, by playing Street Fighter 2 on Capcom Classics.
Basically there are 2 key points I want to make here...first the events of the weekend pretty much put me in the "back in the day" mind set required to consider this topic and second, there is a distinct possibility that I will link to a related post to be, tenatively called "P!ss and a biscuit" from Brutha Ed's blog seeing as he writes the thing then shares the link (hence we get another Wicked-esque perspective of the evening's events).
Anyhow melady went out for the night while all of this ruckus occurred, and as Firefighter Matt so eloquently put it "Yeah she doesn't want to stick around for this horsesh!t." And good times ensued.
The following day, melady returned with stories that involved the discussion of evolutionary mathematics. WTF! As if you didn't have enough trouble with Bio and Math on there own. Some sick puppy combined these two subjects into a single pocket protector area of interest. The discussion included a mention of the fact that breakthroughs in the field would make Nietzsche hum with glee like a Llama about to be fed as they suggest, implicitly that God is dead.
This sparked a random memory of some kid from my high school's senior quote "God exists...I can prove it mathematically." I am not even going to comment on that kid's social status in the hell that was high school as that quote speaks for it self. The real pisser is the fact that my quote was repeatedly rejected on grounds of plagiarism and copyright infringement.
WTF (part 2)!!! Prior to my senior year, kids were putting all sorts of random things as quotes and proper citation was never an issue. Things done changed though and I fought tooth and nail to get a quote from a track from Dancehall Reggae don Supercat only to be stifled by "That's not a real name." According to my cassette tape it was. But those stringent yearbook staff power tripping F'rs had no love for me or my quote and as a result I went quoteless....until now.
"No good can come from hate, only cold thoughts and evil actions." --Supercat
BOOYAKA!
The energetic capacity of the human body
Here is a short article I authored back in grad school when I had skills greater than an 8th grade writer.
....
Understanding the true energetic capacity of the human body is rather difficult to fully grasp, much less explain in the face of modern science. However, I am sure that at some point of their lives almost everyone has dragged their feet across the carpet in a dry environment only to deliver a minute electric shock to a person or object. Using this example it is easy to understand the body’s ability to build up, store, and release an energetic charge. I’ll argue that this energetic phenomena is not limited to static electricity, but can also be accomplished with other forms of energy.
Up till now I have witnessed several remarkable occasions where an emotionally charged person has come into contact with an electrical appliance only to short it out. The most recent was the mildest example. I had just gotten off the phone with my girlfriend, ex-girlfriend as of that conversation. I felt emotionally drained to the point that I can only describe the physical sensation as being akin to wearing drenched clothes. Everything thing seemed quite heavy and thick, and as soon as I touched my light switch, the light bulb blew out. Admittedly light bulbs do blow out, but the examples get better.
One summer while home from graduate school I was watching my nephew along with my dad. My nephew is an absolute dynamo of energy, and generally seeks to be the center of attention as most 5 year olds do. Well it just so happened that a television program on the philosophy of martial arts was coming on. These are two of my favorite interests, and as I result I really wanted to watch the show. As soon as my attention shifted from my nephew to the tv he stopped coloring and stood directly between my line of vision and the television. I made a deal to play with him as soon as the show ended, as long as he would let me watch the show in peace. Before I knew it he was turning my fan on and off repeatedly, which proved to be quite distracting. Again I offered a deal, that he could leave the fan on if he was hot, otherwise he would have to turn it off and leave it off. With a frustrated “FINE” he wrenched the knob on the fan to the off position, and at the exact same moment my tv set blew up. And it’s not like it was a piece of shit, it was a decent little magnavox set.
The third example rivals the second in impressiveness. In high school I was in a rather unhealthy relationship filled with arguments and conflicts. After one especially tumultuous argument "the warden" got mad at the fact that I ignored her childish temper tantrum. In her characteristic vindictive style she decided to teach me a lesson by storming upstairs and shutting the lights off to leave me alone in the dark basement. Well no sooner than she touched the light switch, did I see an actual electrical current travel along the ceiling straight to the ceiling fan/light apparatus, which completely shorted out.
UPDATE...the most recent example comes from just last week. We have had exceptionally dry weather and as a result I shocked the sh!t out of my self when I got out of my car every day. Twice on wednesday.
Ok, so obviously I've suffered a bit of intellectual atrophy in terms of my writing capabilities, but at the sake of gaining near german efficiency. While the fourth, (most recent) story is most likely rated about 6 grades lower by the kinkaid flieshman (sp?) standards, I told it in 1.5 sentences and let's face it, once out of the academic environment no one cares for fancy words and excessive jibba-jabba (especially MR. T).
....
Understanding the true energetic capacity of the human body is rather difficult to fully grasp, much less explain in the face of modern science. However, I am sure that at some point of their lives almost everyone has dragged their feet across the carpet in a dry environment only to deliver a minute electric shock to a person or object. Using this example it is easy to understand the body’s ability to build up, store, and release an energetic charge. I’ll argue that this energetic phenomena is not limited to static electricity, but can also be accomplished with other forms of energy.
Up till now I have witnessed several remarkable occasions where an emotionally charged person has come into contact with an electrical appliance only to short it out. The most recent was the mildest example. I had just gotten off the phone with my girlfriend, ex-girlfriend as of that conversation. I felt emotionally drained to the point that I can only describe the physical sensation as being akin to wearing drenched clothes. Everything thing seemed quite heavy and thick, and as soon as I touched my light switch, the light bulb blew out. Admittedly light bulbs do blow out, but the examples get better.
One summer while home from graduate school I was watching my nephew along with my dad. My nephew is an absolute dynamo of energy, and generally seeks to be the center of attention as most 5 year olds do. Well it just so happened that a television program on the philosophy of martial arts was coming on. These are two of my favorite interests, and as I result I really wanted to watch the show. As soon as my attention shifted from my nephew to the tv he stopped coloring and stood directly between my line of vision and the television. I made a deal to play with him as soon as the show ended, as long as he would let me watch the show in peace. Before I knew it he was turning my fan on and off repeatedly, which proved to be quite distracting. Again I offered a deal, that he could leave the fan on if he was hot, otherwise he would have to turn it off and leave it off. With a frustrated “FINE” he wrenched the knob on the fan to the off position, and at the exact same moment my tv set blew up. And it’s not like it was a piece of shit, it was a decent little magnavox set.
The third example rivals the second in impressiveness. In high school I was in a rather unhealthy relationship filled with arguments and conflicts. After one especially tumultuous argument "the warden" got mad at the fact that I ignored her childish temper tantrum. In her characteristic vindictive style she decided to teach me a lesson by storming upstairs and shutting the lights off to leave me alone in the dark basement. Well no sooner than she touched the light switch, did I see an actual electrical current travel along the ceiling straight to the ceiling fan/light apparatus, which completely shorted out.
UPDATE...the most recent example comes from just last week. We have had exceptionally dry weather and as a result I shocked the sh!t out of my self when I got out of my car every day. Twice on wednesday.
Ok, so obviously I've suffered a bit of intellectual atrophy in terms of my writing capabilities, but at the sake of gaining near german efficiency. While the fourth, (most recent) story is most likely rated about 6 grades lower by the kinkaid flieshman (sp?) standards, I told it in 1.5 sentences and let's face it, once out of the academic environment no one cares for fancy words and excessive jibba-jabba (especially MR. T).
Friday, March 03, 2006
Do you remember the time
When blog posts came more often than our weekly dose of Lost?
Yeah, those were good times.
Fear not, I will crawl out of hibernation soon.
Until then enjoy this joke courtesey of Roscoe P. Coltrane...
What did one casket say to the other?
Is that you coughin? Quuuuu Quuuu Quuuuu
(Coffin...get it)
Look for my riveting post on the engertic capacity of the human body, a treatise formulated after static electrically shocking myself approximately 489 times this week.
Zap.
More bounce to the ounce.
PS popeyes and 40s tonight. Holla!
PSS After well over 6 months our dining room table has arrived!
Yeah, those were good times.
Fear not, I will crawl out of hibernation soon.
Until then enjoy this joke courtesey of Roscoe P. Coltrane...
What did one casket say to the other?
Is that you coughin? Quuuuu Quuuu Quuuuu
(Coffin...get it)
Look for my riveting post on the engertic capacity of the human body, a treatise formulated after static electrically shocking myself approximately 489 times this week.
Zap.
More bounce to the ounce.
PS popeyes and 40s tonight. Holla!
PSS After well over 6 months our dining room table has arrived!
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
In the news this week...
Sudanese villagers forced a man to marry a goat after he was found having sex with it; the man also was required to pay the goat's owner 15,000 Sudanese dinars as dowry.
This spawned the following email exchange among co-workers...
K: Haha: "Man your wife is a real goat"
B: In case your are wondering (and I know you are), the going rate for a goat wife is about the price of a caps ticket ($65).
J:As a Greek-American I don't find this topic funny at all. Shouldn't we be embracing this kind of diversity? Isn't diversity itself a vritue?
Just because a love is outside of what we consider "normal" doesn't mean it's any less beautiful. It's good to see a village somewhere isnt't tied to social conventions. I think they could even start a nice little tourist trade for men who want to marry goats, or other livestock.
P: The question is how much does a goat wife go for in West Virginia?
J: $4 a pound
B:Much like buying bushels of crabs, price is largely driven by gender.
My guess would be the going rate for a 'Nanny' (female goat) would be a case of PBR while a "Billy" (male goat) would bear a much higher market value, a pair of nascar tickets.
K:Somebody should start up a dating website "goatdater.com"
This spawned the following email exchange among co-workers...
K: Haha: "Man your wife is a real goat"
B: In case your are wondering (and I know you are), the going rate for a goat wife is about the price of a caps ticket ($65).
J:As a Greek-American I don't find this topic funny at all. Shouldn't we be embracing this kind of diversity? Isn't diversity itself a vritue?
Just because a love is outside of what we consider "normal" doesn't mean it's any less beautiful. It's good to see a village somewhere isnt't tied to social conventions. I think they could even start a nice little tourist trade for men who want to marry goats, or other livestock.
P: The question is how much does a goat wife go for in West Virginia?
J: $4 a pound
B:Much like buying bushels of crabs, price is largely driven by gender.
My guess would be the going rate for a 'Nanny' (female goat) would be a case of PBR while a "Billy" (male goat) would bear a much higher market value, a pair of nascar tickets.
K:Somebody should start up a dating website "goatdater.com"
Friday, February 24, 2006
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Sine your bitty on the runny kine
Given its cast of characters (Chris Rock, Dave Attel, Wanda Sykes) Pootie Tang showed great promise. The first four minutes of the film are positively riveting. The remaining hour and seventeen minutes not so much.
So as a treat to the loyal denizens of Topic15, I give the the gift of time. Time in the form of getting the best without having to watch the worse...
Pootie Tang's very own opus, Sine your bitty on the runny kine.
Are you ready?
Wah dah Tow!
So as a treat to the loyal denizens of Topic15, I give the the gift of time. Time in the form of getting the best without having to watch the worse...
Pootie Tang's very own opus, Sine your bitty on the runny kine.
Are you ready?
Wah dah Tow!
Dun-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh They say it's your birthday!
According to the Washington Post's Miss Cleo wanna be....
Pisces February 19 - March 20
For Tuesday, February 21 -You've decided that rather than being a follower -- even though you're always extremely choosy about whom you follow -- you're better suited to being a leader. Well, good for you. Bet your appreciative audience will agree -- not to mention the folks under your 'command' who'll be amazed and astounded at your leadership abilities. See? Just because you're quietly powerful doesn't mean you won't be effective.
I give those smokers 2 years. Tops. Oh and Brendan Fraiser...watch your back.
Have fun and party like a sock monkey.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Lordz of the Underground
A few years back I saw this super swank artwork for sale on ebay. It was from some studio in London and some bloody tosser ran the bid up far past what I was willing to pay.
Is it perfect? No. But neither are you and that's just fine. You both have "personality."
On a side note, peep the swank coffee table that I made for the beyonce many moons ago. There is a quant little story to go along with it.
For a long time my boo's apartment was sans coffee table and it was cool. I, however, thought it to be neat to build her a custom made one in my free time. I was 90% complete before we were going to use her apartment as the launch pad for the first (and last) boys night out. At this juncture she realized that the lack of a coffee table was simply unacceptable and was going to run out and buy one really quick like.
I was nearly finished with the table and wanted to keep it a surprise. At the same time I didn't want to have her run out and buy one. Despite my best tap dancing, she remained unwavered in her decision. Thankfully, nothing caught her eye at target and Ikea was a bit too far for such short notice, so we ended up with a temporary solution of a footlocker and I was able to deliver the goods shortly thereafter.
Awwwwwww. Isn't that special.
Is it perfect? No. But neither are you and that's just fine. You both have "personality."
On a side note, peep the swank coffee table that I made for the beyonce many moons ago. There is a quant little story to go along with it.
For a long time my boo's apartment was sans coffee table and it was cool. I, however, thought it to be neat to build her a custom made one in my free time. I was 90% complete before we were going to use her apartment as the launch pad for the first (and last) boys night out. At this juncture she realized that the lack of a coffee table was simply unacceptable and was going to run out and buy one really quick like.
I was nearly finished with the table and wanted to keep it a surprise. At the same time I didn't want to have her run out and buy one. Despite my best tap dancing, she remained unwavered in her decision. Thankfully, nothing caught her eye at target and Ikea was a bit too far for such short notice, so we ended up with a temporary solution of a footlocker and I was able to deliver the goods shortly thereafter.
Awwwwwww. Isn't that special.
Monday, February 13, 2006
OG VP Gets busy
And in the news this week, the vice president decides to take a vacation, pops a cap in his friend's grill.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
A guy walks into a talent agent's office...
Aristocrats = aristocrap.
Perhaps the one saving grace is that buried deep within the recesses of the special features is a clip from the amazing Jonathan where he tells one of his favorite jokes. This joke also serves as his litmus test as to whether or not a person is fun to hang out with. If they laugh, they are in the inner circle. If not, he immediately breaks their neck (no not really, he just doesn't think they are as fun to hang out with).
I am pleased to say I am among the fun crowd. I will do my best to recount the joke here...
Two old friends meet up, by chance, after not seeing one another for many years. One friend immediately notices the other has gone through some pretty significant changes. He has a beautiful wife and based on his appearance he is extremely affluent. His head is three times the normal size, perfectly round, and colored orange. The friend's curiosity gets the best so he asks,
Friend1 "Wow you sure have changed what happened?"
Orangey "While travelling in the Congo, I discovered a lamp and decided to rub it for shitz and grins."
Friend1 "Did anything happen?"
Orangey "Believe it or not, a genie came out and granted me 3 wishes."
Friend1 "What did you wish for?"
Orangey "First wish was for a beautiful wife. Second wish was to be rich beyond my wildest dream, then I think I went terribly wrong with the third wish."
Friend1 "Oh yeah, how so?"
Orangey "I wished for a really big round orange head."
I am chuckling even writing that.
Yeah, so sue me, I am easy to please.
Anyhow, speaking of crappy I don't get it humor, I just wrapped up another AV project for your viewing pleasure.
Just for some backstory, my dad is credited with the concept as well as the original execution. One day back in the 80s, he daisy chained 2 vcrs together and manually looped a clip from suddenly. I thought it was equally, if not more, enjoyable than the orange head joke.
So here it is.
Perhaps the one saving grace is that buried deep within the recesses of the special features is a clip from the amazing Jonathan where he tells one of his favorite jokes. This joke also serves as his litmus test as to whether or not a person is fun to hang out with. If they laugh, they are in the inner circle. If not, he immediately breaks their neck (no not really, he just doesn't think they are as fun to hang out with).
I am pleased to say I am among the fun crowd. I will do my best to recount the joke here...
Two old friends meet up, by chance, after not seeing one another for many years. One friend immediately notices the other has gone through some pretty significant changes. He has a beautiful wife and based on his appearance he is extremely affluent. His head is three times the normal size, perfectly round, and colored orange. The friend's curiosity gets the best so he asks,
Friend1 "Wow you sure have changed what happened?"
Orangey "While travelling in the Congo, I discovered a lamp and decided to rub it for shitz and grins."
Friend1 "Did anything happen?"
Orangey "Believe it or not, a genie came out and granted me 3 wishes."
Friend1 "What did you wish for?"
Orangey "First wish was for a beautiful wife. Second wish was to be rich beyond my wildest dream, then I think I went terribly wrong with the third wish."
Friend1 "Oh yeah, how so?"
Orangey "I wished for a really big round orange head."
I am chuckling even writing that.
Yeah, so sue me, I am easy to please.
Anyhow, speaking of crappy I don't get it humor, I just wrapped up another AV project for your viewing pleasure.
Just for some backstory, my dad is credited with the concept as well as the original execution. One day back in the 80s, he daisy chained 2 vcrs together and manually looped a clip from suddenly. I thought it was equally, if not more, enjoyable than the orange head joke.
So here it is.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Movie time
Was I dreaming?
I distinctly remember gazing over to the drink cart on my Air France flight from Paris a few weeks ago and seeing a PBR branded bottle of spring water. I pointed it out to melady and she saw it too, yet despite google's best efforts, it does not seem to exist.
Nor does Barbara, a swiss beer that tasted deliciously like OE 800.
Could Google be holding out on us?
Nor does Barbara, a swiss beer that tasted deliciously like OE 800.
Could Google be holding out on us?
Monday, February 06, 2006
2nd hand chicken wings?
Anyone? Anyone?
That superbowl was just plain trifling.
Thanks FCC for throwing ad execs back to the age of the puritans thus resulting in perhaps the worst batch of commercials on record.
And thanks seahawks for managing the clock like a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. You only cost me 100 frosties in the first quarter.
That superbowl was just plain trifling.
Thanks FCC for throwing ad execs back to the age of the puritans thus resulting in perhaps the worst batch of commercials on record.
And thanks seahawks for managing the clock like a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. You only cost me 100 frosties in the first quarter.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Whitexploitation
Speaking of new twists on old favorites, I recently gots me a digital AV convert that allows you to knock the dust off those VHS tapes and welcome them to the digital age.
I can't seem to get the audio track to work, so I am forced to Remix the audio.
I took a friend's project and threw on some new audio and voila! I think I just created a new genre.
Have a looksee.
I can't seem to get the audio track to work, so I am forced to Remix the audio.
I took a friend's project and threw on some new audio and voila! I think I just created a new genre.
Have a looksee.
Friday, February 03, 2006
A new twist on an old favorite...
The Tony Danza = Yelling "Who's the Boss?" after delivering a Donkey Punch.
Instant Classic.
Instant Classic.
Simian Survivor
Did anyone actually watch survivor last night?
If so, did you catch how survivor Dan came clean about being a former astronaught?
Obviously from when NASA was still sending albino monkeys into space.
Did you see how crazy he went in the previews when Probst revealled the reward challenge was a bunch of bananas?
If so, did you catch how survivor Dan came clean about being a former astronaught?
Obviously from when NASA was still sending albino monkeys into space.
Did you see how crazy he went in the previews when Probst revealled the reward challenge was a bunch of bananas?
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
And in the news today...
Back to back headlines on CNN
• Boy enters elephant's open-air cage, is crushed to death
• Lindsay Lohan injured in teacup accident
How does a teacup injury come that close to an elephant trampling?
• Boy enters elephant's open-air cage, is crushed to death
• Lindsay Lohan injured in teacup accident
How does a teacup injury come that close to an elephant trampling?
Monday, January 30, 2006
What really happened...
Off the Wall, Rock with You, PYT, Billie Jean all seminal MJ before that fateful day of 01-27-84, the day the pepsi ad execs decided to pull the ultimate snafu in marketing history, combining MJ's highly volatile jheri curls with pyro-technics.
You see, when MJ's afro went ablaze, the news media failed to uncover the true story of what became of the king of pop following his being whisked away in the ambulance.
They would have you believe that he only suffered horrific burns when the fact of the matter is that the real MJ perished on route to the burn center.
Knowing the consequences of loosing their cash cow (anyone remember Captain EO from the Epcot center?), experts from Disney were brought in immediately to see what could be done. While technologically primitive at the time, the folks from the magic kingdom were no strangers to animatronics and they decided to rebuild MJ as a cyborg.
A famous sociologist once said that society is the acculmulation of unintended consequences and here is a most blatant example. You see, Disney programmers have always geared their products towards a very specific audience, children. Their animatronics crew was no exception. The under the surface of the new bionic MJ resided circuitry with a a single focus, children.
No one could foresee the inevitability that has become the current MJ, nor that the magic of Beat It or Thriller could be mechanically replicated, nor that shoddy 80s material used in the construction would rapidly deteriorate in the 90s. It is a little known fact that MJ's nose was constructed out of Shrinkee dinks and Hubba Bubba chewing gum, hence its subsequent shrinkage.
So sad it is when man attempts to play god.
You see, when MJ's afro went ablaze, the news media failed to uncover the true story of what became of the king of pop following his being whisked away in the ambulance.
They would have you believe that he only suffered horrific burns when the fact of the matter is that the real MJ perished on route to the burn center.
Knowing the consequences of loosing their cash cow (anyone remember Captain EO from the Epcot center?), experts from Disney were brought in immediately to see what could be done. While technologically primitive at the time, the folks from the magic kingdom were no strangers to animatronics and they decided to rebuild MJ as a cyborg.
A famous sociologist once said that society is the acculmulation of unintended consequences and here is a most blatant example. You see, Disney programmers have always geared their products towards a very specific audience, children. Their animatronics crew was no exception. The under the surface of the new bionic MJ resided circuitry with a a single focus, children.
No one could foresee the inevitability that has become the current MJ, nor that the magic of Beat It or Thriller could be mechanically replicated, nor that shoddy 80s material used in the construction would rapidly deteriorate in the 90s. It is a little known fact that MJ's nose was constructed out of Shrinkee dinks and Hubba Bubba chewing gum, hence its subsequent shrinkage.
So sad it is when man attempts to play god.
Guess what happened 3 days and 12 years ago?
This.
The aforelinked (I may have just coined a term there) has implications like you wouldn't believe. I will write about them later this evening.
Until then enjoy this bit-o-irony from the Egypt trip...
While shopping in the local bazaar, I found Cairo's equivalent to Victoria's Secret. It was a stall-shop stocked with scanty lingerie. The lady who owned the shop was dressed in a burka (that's the head-to-toe robe where you can only see the eyes of the wearer).
The aforelinked (I may have just coined a term there) has implications like you wouldn't believe. I will write about them later this evening.
Until then enjoy this bit-o-irony from the Egypt trip...
While shopping in the local bazaar, I found Cairo's equivalent to Victoria's Secret. It was a stall-shop stocked with scanty lingerie. The lady who owned the shop was dressed in a burka (that's the head-to-toe robe where you can only see the eyes of the wearer).
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Burn in Germantown, hell.
You're probably thinking "Don't you mean, 'Burn in hell, Germantown?' in the title," right?
No, I standfast behind my original title. Dig around in the archives to the late August/September timeframe and you will find my 3/4 serious: 1/4 tongue-n-cheek tirade on moving out of that forsaken place.
Now, I am starting to believe that Germantown is not at parity with hell, but in fact, a much worse place.
Here I sit at my hotel in Egypt, far far away from the United States as a collective, much less its smaller municipalities. Here I scan the headlines of the Egyptian gazette which has been largely focused on the African World Cup Soccer Tournament currently being held in Cairo. Here I rub my eyes in disbelief, pinch myself twice and call the front desk to see if I am dreaming as Germantown makes the front page of the Egyptian Gazette newspaper for a day care centre shooting.
So please, if you go to review my previous article on the exodus out of the big Germ, please disregard the aforementioned recipe of 3/4 serious, and replace with 110% serious.
In other news, Michael Jackson was spotted in Bahrain dressed like a woman.
In other other news, a man from Bogota employed an unconventional cure for his nephew's hiccups. He shot him. According to witnesses he was only trying to scare him. The uncle then "scared" himself because he felt so distraught.
No, I standfast behind my original title. Dig around in the archives to the late August/September timeframe and you will find my 3/4 serious: 1/4 tongue-n-cheek tirade on moving out of that forsaken place.
Now, I am starting to believe that Germantown is not at parity with hell, but in fact, a much worse place.
Here I sit at my hotel in Egypt, far far away from the United States as a collective, much less its smaller municipalities. Here I scan the headlines of the Egyptian gazette which has been largely focused on the African World Cup Soccer Tournament currently being held in Cairo. Here I rub my eyes in disbelief, pinch myself twice and call the front desk to see if I am dreaming as Germantown makes the front page of the Egyptian Gazette newspaper for a day care centre shooting.
So please, if you go to review my previous article on the exodus out of the big Germ, please disregard the aforementioned recipe of 3/4 serious, and replace with 110% serious.
In other news, Michael Jackson was spotted in Bahrain dressed like a woman.
In other other news, a man from Bogota employed an unconventional cure for his nephew's hiccups. He shot him. According to witnesses he was only trying to scare him. The uncle then "scared" himself because he felt so distraught.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
I'm pretty sure that's a first...
So the other day, me and meladyfriend crawled down a laundry-shoot sized shaft into the center chamber of the Red Pyramid in Dashur. The air was ripe with anominia-esque musk of guano. It was eeirly quiet. That is until I bellowed out "ANDIE! YOU GOONIE!"
I couldn't help myself cause based on visual inspection of the interior, I was pretty much convinced that's where they shot the well scene. The acoustic qualities of my voice echoing throughout the chamber only confirmed my hypothesis.
So, what else have I been up to?
I've come close to being run down like forrest gump on average 3.2 times per day. Traffic patterns here are much like Calcutta, only with better roads. The guide book describes it as the chariot scene from Ben Hur only with Fiats, Ladas, and Skodas (those are common egyptian cars).
I made a trip to the Egyptian museum and saw King Tut's booty. Let me clarify, I saw King Tut's treasure, not his ass. They charge extra for that.
I had a can of "Batman Blast" soda which tasted unnaturally gross.
For lunch I went to Felfela. As far as reviews go, the jury is out on that place as to whether it is a tourist trap or good Egyptian eats. Honestly, it's a little of both, and personally, I think it's good to be on the safe side with the food. I had Fuul (think of refried beans --before they were refried doused with oil, onions and garlic), Tahina (paste made from sesame seeds and spices), Shammy (pita bread) and Ta'amiya (a fried patty of mashed fava beans). The jury is still out on my breath after a meal like that. I think it can either cure cancer or perhaps cause it.
Well I am going to go watch the Oliver Giessen Show. It's like Jerry Springer, but in German.
Later tonight a once in a lifetime boat ride on the Nile.
Monday, January 23, 2006
One more thing...
Is it wrong to wish death upon a child?
On the plane ride to Paris, I had the distinct pleasure of sitting about 6 rows away from a 6 year old child who whined incessantly for the 6 hour flight. And not just any ole whining, whining in french. Needless to say sleep was limited at best.
Now anyone programmed from Lost probably picked up on the connection here, but for the less astute...
6 year old child, 6 rows away, 6 hour flight... it was obviously the devil, so while generally wishing death upon a child is not socially acceptable, I think it's ok in this case. Maybe I will give some beggars some money just to be on the safe side.
Besides, you really have to be careful about what you wish on other people. Or at least I do.
There was this onetime in 3rd or 4th grade that we got this new student in class and he was a really uppity prick for being the new kid. One recess he was showboating on the b-ball courts I thought to myself, that kid really needs to be checked. Then WHAM the left wing of a Cessna fell out of the sky and severed his legs. Ok, that didn't happen, but he did miss a pass and got hit in the head with football, fell over, hit his head and lost a tooth.
Then in 6th grade I transferred to a new school. Knowing the consequences of being a new kid and acting up, I tried my best to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, trouble has a habit of finding me. What made matters worse was trouble came in the form of a loud mouthed 5th grader. Can you believe the balls of these kids? A 5th grader talking unprovoked smack to his elders? Well I returneth the smacktalk with a bit of the ole evil eye. Two weeks later he was diagnosed with brain cancer. I shiteth you not.
I think this evil eye power is hereditary. Mostly from my dad's side. A few years ago, well more like five or six years ago, there was a similar experience. I was home for the summer from grad school and working as a mechanics helper. The mechanic had to go away for a few days and I promised to take care of his business in his absence. During this time, I had to deliver the title for a car to an auction for the mechanic's neighbor. I did, but this neighbor wasn't too bright and for some reason thought I didn't do what I promised to do. He called my dad with his panties in a twist and started talking some out-of-pocket shit, grilling him and general being disrespectful. I don't know what my dad said to him, but I do know that a short while later the dude collapsed in his garage and died from some freakish undiscovered tumor.
So, that's all I have to say about that.
On the plane ride to Paris, I had the distinct pleasure of sitting about 6 rows away from a 6 year old child who whined incessantly for the 6 hour flight. And not just any ole whining, whining in french. Needless to say sleep was limited at best.
Now anyone programmed from Lost probably picked up on the connection here, but for the less astute...
6 year old child, 6 rows away, 6 hour flight... it was obviously the devil, so while generally wishing death upon a child is not socially acceptable, I think it's ok in this case. Maybe I will give some beggars some money just to be on the safe side.
Besides, you really have to be careful about what you wish on other people. Or at least I do.
There was this onetime in 3rd or 4th grade that we got this new student in class and he was a really uppity prick for being the new kid. One recess he was showboating on the b-ball courts I thought to myself, that kid really needs to be checked. Then WHAM the left wing of a Cessna fell out of the sky and severed his legs. Ok, that didn't happen, but he did miss a pass and got hit in the head with football, fell over, hit his head and lost a tooth.
Then in 6th grade I transferred to a new school. Knowing the consequences of being a new kid and acting up, I tried my best to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, trouble has a habit of finding me. What made matters worse was trouble came in the form of a loud mouthed 5th grader. Can you believe the balls of these kids? A 5th grader talking unprovoked smack to his elders? Well I returneth the smacktalk with a bit of the ole evil eye. Two weeks later he was diagnosed with brain cancer. I shiteth you not.
I think this evil eye power is hereditary. Mostly from my dad's side. A few years ago, well more like five or six years ago, there was a similar experience. I was home for the summer from grad school and working as a mechanics helper. The mechanic had to go away for a few days and I promised to take care of his business in his absence. During this time, I had to deliver the title for a car to an auction for the mechanic's neighbor. I did, but this neighbor wasn't too bright and for some reason thought I didn't do what I promised to do. He called my dad with his panties in a twist and started talking some out-of-pocket shit, grilling him and general being disrespectful. I don't know what my dad said to him, but I do know that a short while later the dude collapsed in his garage and died from some freakish undiscovered tumor.
So, that's all I have to say about that.
A kick in the McNutz
Dammit cubed.
A 2400 meter hike to the closest McDonald's revealed a startling fact...The McFelafel is no longer being made.
My consolation meal was a "McArabia" grilled chicken sandwich.
Mcshit.
Oh well, at least there was a mirage megastore (Virgin megastore with less racy name) nearby according to my map. Guess what? The megastore went the way of the Mcfelafel. I wandered around for 2 hours looking for that son-of-a-bitch like it was platform 14.5 from harry potter.
No luck.
As I made the trek back to the hotel, I had a totally new experience. While crossing a bridge over the Nile a wind kicked up and actually blew dirt off the river onto me. Yes dirt.
Mcnasty.
As a final stop on my Monday excursion, I hit up Drinkie's, the local beer store and snatched up an interesting assortment of beverages which I will spend the rest of the afternoon sampling.
Here's what's on the menu...
1. Stella export Lager Beer (not to be confused with the Stella you are thinking of)
2. Meister Max (twice the punch of that wussy regular meister)
3. Chill Arack Ice (looks interesting, possibly deadly)
4. Chill Margarita (yummy).
I'll report on the findings later.
A 2400 meter hike to the closest McDonald's revealed a startling fact...The McFelafel is no longer being made.
My consolation meal was a "McArabia" grilled chicken sandwich.
Mcshit.
Oh well, at least there was a mirage megastore (Virgin megastore with less racy name) nearby according to my map. Guess what? The megastore went the way of the Mcfelafel. I wandered around for 2 hours looking for that son-of-a-bitch like it was platform 14.5 from harry potter.
No luck.
As I made the trek back to the hotel, I had a totally new experience. While crossing a bridge over the Nile a wind kicked up and actually blew dirt off the river onto me. Yes dirt.
Mcnasty.
As a final stop on my Monday excursion, I hit up Drinkie's, the local beer store and snatched up an interesting assortment of beverages which I will spend the rest of the afternoon sampling.
Here's what's on the menu...
1. Stella export Lager Beer (not to be confused with the Stella you are thinking of)
2. Meister Max (twice the punch of that wussy regular meister)
3. Chill Arack Ice (looks interesting, possibly deadly)
4. Chill Margarita (yummy).
I'll report on the findings later.
Fien Mcfelafel?
There's only one way to to deal with the morning after a late night filled with Meister Max swilling and Sheesha dragging...
the search for the elusive McFelafel extra value meal.
the search for the elusive McFelafel extra value meal.
All this fried bean goodness for less than the price of a postage stamp.
Sweeet!
I'll let you know how it goes.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Hang in there!
I'll be on international holiday for the next week and a half so updates may or may not occur on a regularly scheduled basis.
Amazing personality Test.
Courtesy of my cousin who works for Miller Brewing...
In the middle of the table is a round food tray with five kinds of Fruits on it.
They are:
>a. Apple
>b. Banana
>c. Strawberry
>d. Peach
>e. Orange
Which fruit will you choose?
Please think VERY carefully and don't rush into it.
This is great, I was astounded!
Your choice reveals a lot about you!
Test results:
Please SCROLL DOWN>>>>>>>>>
If you have chosen:
a. Apple: That means you are a person who loves to eat apples
b. Banana: That means you are a person who loves to eat bananas
c. Strawberry: That means you are a person who loves to eat strawberries
d. Peach: That means you are a person who loves to eat peaches
e. Orange: That means you are a person who loves to eat oranges
In the middle of the table is a round food tray with five kinds of Fruits on it.
They are:
>a. Apple
>b. Banana
>c. Strawberry
>d. Peach
>e. Orange
Which fruit will you choose?
Please think VERY carefully and don't rush into it.
This is great, I was astounded!
Your choice reveals a lot about you!
Test results:
Please SCROLL DOWN>>>>>>>>>
If you have chosen:
a. Apple: That means you are a person who loves to eat apples
b. Banana: That means you are a person who loves to eat bananas
c. Strawberry: That means you are a person who loves to eat strawberries
d. Peach: That means you are a person who loves to eat peaches
e. Orange: That means you are a person who loves to eat oranges
Monday, January 16, 2006
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Bum Wine Challenge 2k4
Lest any one forget....
Rather than heed the advice found on this site, three colleagues and I sought to recreate the challenge sans the dawg.
We procurred bottles of the Wild I, T-Bird, Night Train, and Cisco along with 2 cases of PBR for good measure and palate cleansing.
Total cost $25.05.
In a measure of further foolishness, we added a time challenge where the first person finished was the "winner." In some rare cases, the winner is actually the loser. Our Wild I challenger finished his bottle of grape/sand flavored libations in record time. He was shortly thereafter found sending obscene messages via email to the cwine (makers of Wild i) website. Eventually he was the first to pass out and claim his prize (a pair of cheezeit sunglasses). Later he served as a chips-n-salsa bar.
The T-bird contestant became wildly out of control, suffering from delusions that he had become a giant pair of breasts. He proceed to slap everyone in sight until passing out. He now eats but can not get full, believing the bird ate a whole in his stomach.
The night train contestant also suffered from a mild case of paranoia and delusions. He was convinced we had robbed him of his poker earnings when in fact he was merely sitting on them.
I had the distinct pleasure of tussling with liquid crack AKA cisco. The makers of this product may be evil, but at least they are honest. I can personally concur, that it is most definitely "NOT A WINE COOLER." I finished last and suffered the punishment of shotgunning a PBR. As far as punishments go, that is the equivalent of giving someone a "time-out" after being beat with a sock full of quarters for 2 and a half hours.
I'd like to say that we all learn from our mistakes, but am inclined to believe that as soon as my friend regrows his stomach, we will be back for the 2nd annual BWC.
Rather than heed the advice found on this site, three colleagues and I sought to recreate the challenge sans the dawg.
We procurred bottles of the Wild I, T-Bird, Night Train, and Cisco along with 2 cases of PBR for good measure and palate cleansing.
Total cost $25.05.
In a measure of further foolishness, we added a time challenge where the first person finished was the "winner." In some rare cases, the winner is actually the loser. Our Wild I challenger finished his bottle of grape/sand flavored libations in record time. He was shortly thereafter found sending obscene messages via email to the cwine (makers of Wild i) website. Eventually he was the first to pass out and claim his prize (a pair of cheezeit sunglasses). Later he served as a chips-n-salsa bar.
The T-bird contestant became wildly out of control, suffering from delusions that he had become a giant pair of breasts. He proceed to slap everyone in sight until passing out. He now eats but can not get full, believing the bird ate a whole in his stomach.
The night train contestant also suffered from a mild case of paranoia and delusions. He was convinced we had robbed him of his poker earnings when in fact he was merely sitting on them.
I had the distinct pleasure of tussling with liquid crack AKA cisco. The makers of this product may be evil, but at least they are honest. I can personally concur, that it is most definitely "NOT A WINE COOLER." I finished last and suffered the punishment of shotgunning a PBR. As far as punishments go, that is the equivalent of giving someone a "time-out" after being beat with a sock full of quarters for 2 and a half hours.
I'd like to say that we all learn from our mistakes, but am inclined to believe that as soon as my friend regrows his stomach, we will be back for the 2nd annual BWC.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Bum Wine Challenge 2006
Say hello to our second run at the Bum Wine Challenge!
We laugh at most people.
We laugh at most people.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
It's the Internet equivalent of suddenly feeling like you want to take a shower
C'mon you know you want to look!
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Mr. Pibb + Red Vines <> Crazy Delicious
Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good Parnell freestyle as much as the guy, but for sure that combo is anything but crazy delicious.
Let me break it down for you. Mr Pibb is nothing more than a 2 -cent whore knockoff of the highend call girl Dr. Pepper. And despite the class disparity Dr. Pepper is still a trick. C'mon people it is rumored to be prune soda.
The bottles used to have a 10 a 2 and a 4 on them because that's when you should have a little bit of the doctor to keep things flowing properly. I've also heard that they did research on blood sugar levels and found by supplementing a diet with a can of soda at these times prevents a significant drop in blood sugar levels but that's besides the point.
Perhaps the best evidence of its inherent nastiness comes in the form of the ultimate bootleg, generic Safeway soda and their shot at replicating the Pep...Dr. Popper. This 25 cents per can slush had the tagline "It's the soda with that fruity-nutty cola flavor." I read that (sadly) after finishing a can in 5th grade and threw up a little bit in my mouth.
Fruit and Nuts in cola? I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth just now at the very prospect. The power of the mind people, c'mon!
So basically the bullet point of the presentation thus far would be Mr. Pibb is disgusting.
On to the red vines....
I bought a pack of these at target and asked myself, I wonder how many packages of Red Vines were sold after seeing the Narnia rap? I know that led me to try them for the very first time. I was super excited as the thumbnail into the package test indicated the vines were very fresh, not all old, hard and crusty like something that is old hard and crusty.
I broke them out later that night while watching a movie and was ready to slap the taste out of those damn SNL rappers mouths. The taste buds were expecting something along the lines of twizzlers. The taste buds were greeted with some vile concoction resembling a cross between pepto bismal and moldy bread. With the exception of those chaukly pink candies that taste like pepto bismal, red vines are quite arguably the ass-nastiest candy on the block.
While I have no doubt they belong in the same boat as Mr. Pibb, my contention is in the destination of said boat. Most certainly not Crazy-delicious-ville, more likely Dundalk.
Let me break it down for you. Mr Pibb is nothing more than a 2 -cent whore knockoff of the highend call girl Dr. Pepper. And despite the class disparity Dr. Pepper is still a trick. C'mon people it is rumored to be prune soda.
The bottles used to have a 10 a 2 and a 4 on them because that's when you should have a little bit of the doctor to keep things flowing properly. I've also heard that they did research on blood sugar levels and found by supplementing a diet with a can of soda at these times prevents a significant drop in blood sugar levels but that's besides the point.
Perhaps the best evidence of its inherent nastiness comes in the form of the ultimate bootleg, generic Safeway soda and their shot at replicating the Pep...Dr. Popper. This 25 cents per can slush had the tagline "It's the soda with that fruity-nutty cola flavor." I read that (sadly) after finishing a can in 5th grade and threw up a little bit in my mouth.
Fruit and Nuts in cola? I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth just now at the very prospect. The power of the mind people, c'mon!
So basically the bullet point of the presentation thus far would be Mr. Pibb is disgusting.
On to the red vines....
I bought a pack of these at target and asked myself, I wonder how many packages of Red Vines were sold after seeing the Narnia rap? I know that led me to try them for the very first time. I was super excited as the thumbnail into the package test indicated the vines were very fresh, not all old, hard and crusty like something that is old hard and crusty.
I broke them out later that night while watching a movie and was ready to slap the taste out of those damn SNL rappers mouths. The taste buds were expecting something along the lines of twizzlers. The taste buds were greeted with some vile concoction resembling a cross between pepto bismal and moldy bread. With the exception of those chaukly pink candies that taste like pepto bismal, red vines are quite arguably the ass-nastiest candy on the block.
While I have no doubt they belong in the same boat as Mr. Pibb, my contention is in the destination of said boat. Most certainly not Crazy-delicious-ville, more likely Dundalk.
Try it, everybody's doing it
When I bought my Subaru station wagon a little over six months ago, little did I know that I was ahead of the curve.
Now everyone is trying to capitalize on wagon leniency, including Lamborghini...
Now everyone is trying to capitalize on wagon leniency, including Lamborghini...
Yeah, that's right. Stationwagons are the new black.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Not for human consumption
I should totally enter this.
It's a contest for stupid warning labels ala don't store your baby in this box.
Here are a few gems...
A warning label found on a bottle of dried bobcat urine made to keep rodents and other pests away from garden plants says: “Not for human consumption.”
A digital thermometer that can be used to take a person's temperature several different ways warns: "Once used rectally, the thermometer should not be used orally."
A household iron warns users: “Never iron clothes while they are being worn”
A label on a hair dryer reads, “Never use hair dryer while sleeping”
A warning on an electric drill made for carpenters cautions: “This product not intended for use as a dental drill.”
The label on a bottle of drain cleaner warns: “If you do not understand, or cannot read, all directions, cautions and warnings, do not use this product.”
A massage chair warns: “DO NOT use massage chair without clothing... and, Never force any body part into the backrest area while the rollers are moving.”
A cardboard car sunshield that keeps sun off the dashboard warns, “Do not drive with sunshield in place” *** on a side note, I have done this***
A cartridge for a laser printer warns, “Do not eat toner”
A 13-inch wheel on a wheelbarrow warns: “Not intended for highway use”
A snowblower warns: “Do not use snowthrower on roof.”
A dishwasher carries this warning: “Do not allow children to play in the dishwasher.”
A box of birthday cake candles says: “DO NOT use soft wax as ear plugs or for any other function that involves insertion into a body cavity.”
It's a contest for stupid warning labels ala don't store your baby in this box.
Here are a few gems...
A warning label found on a bottle of dried bobcat urine made to keep rodents and other pests away from garden plants says: “Not for human consumption.”
A digital thermometer that can be used to take a person's temperature several different ways warns: "Once used rectally, the thermometer should not be used orally."
A household iron warns users: “Never iron clothes while they are being worn”
A label on a hair dryer reads, “Never use hair dryer while sleeping”
A warning on an electric drill made for carpenters cautions: “This product not intended for use as a dental drill.”
The label on a bottle of drain cleaner warns: “If you do not understand, or cannot read, all directions, cautions and warnings, do not use this product.”
A massage chair warns: “DO NOT use massage chair without clothing... and, Never force any body part into the backrest area while the rollers are moving.”
A cardboard car sunshield that keeps sun off the dashboard warns, “Do not drive with sunshield in place” *** on a side note, I have done this***
A cartridge for a laser printer warns, “Do not eat toner”
A 13-inch wheel on a wheelbarrow warns: “Not intended for highway use”
A snowblower warns: “Do not use snowthrower on roof.”
A dishwasher carries this warning: “Do not allow children to play in the dishwasher.”
A box of birthday cake candles says: “DO NOT use soft wax as ear plugs or for any other function that involves insertion into a body cavity.”
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Monsters in the Closet
When I was just a wee laddie, I had a penchant for spending most nights sleeping on the living room couch. Aesthetically, the couch was 1970s distasteful at best, had all the aromatic qualities of a bus full of old people, and was covered in a material that would make a burlap sack feel like the finest silk. Still I was insistent on sleeping there and did so until I was probably 7 or 8 years of age.
I don't remember why this was the case as much as that it just was the case. Call it a toddler reified belief.
My parents chalked it up to me being a needy child or perhaps having an overactive imagination of monsters in the closet. I can't say I blame them. I was needy and did, in fact, have an invisible (not imaginary mind you) friend named Nivan (pronounced NEYE-VAN like Ivan with an N) that lived in our vacuum cleaner.
Then, just recently, at Christmas dinner, the explanation emerged courtesy of my older sister.
You see, back in those dark ages me and the sister didn't get along at all. In fact, I was pretty much convinced she was the devil. As most older sisters she was often charged with babysitting me. Unlike most older sisters, her definition of babysitting me was to exploit my fear of sharp objects by threatening to stick me with a thumb tack if I didn't sit on the floor quietly while she watched The Osmonds or The Brady Bunch. Heaven forbid I ask to watch the Price is Right. That would result in a call directly to Santa Clause with report of being a bad child. This threat was soon null after she told me there was no Santa and subsequently replaced with a greater threat of calling my step-grandfather who is arguably the meanest whiteman on this side of the Altantic.
But that's all in the past.
So anyhow, somehow the holiday dinner talk wound its way to childhood memories and monsters in closets. And the following exchange took place:
Sister: "Remember how Ben used to always sleep on the couch?"
Family: "Uh-huh, we couldn't figure out what the deal was."
Sister: "Remember how our closets had spooky crawlspaces that connected the bedrooms and there was a hidden door that popped out of the wall in Ben's room?"
Family: "Yes."
Satan: "Yeah well I thought it might be a good idea to sneak through the closet and pop out and scare Ben one night"
Family: "Are you serious?"
Beezlebub: "Yeah, I was wearing a wolf's mask too."
Family: "Did you really?"
Old Scratch: "Sure did. I jumped out and scared him good."
Family: "How old was Ben at the time?"
Lucifer: "Probably 5 or 6."
Family: "That's gonna generate some bad karma!"
El Diablo: "Yeah, probably"
Family: "So then what happened?"
Girl with Horns and pitchfork: "I ran back to my room and pretended to be asleep, but not before hiding the mask."
Family: "- -"
Sister: "I tried not to laugh as I overheard you trying to convince Ben that there were no such things as monsters in his closet as you walked him back into his room."
Family: "Geez. Sorry about that whole giving you a hard time about sleeping on the couch and if you didn't stop you might grow up to be a hobo stuff."
I don't remember why this was the case as much as that it just was the case. Call it a toddler reified belief.
My parents chalked it up to me being a needy child or perhaps having an overactive imagination of monsters in the closet. I can't say I blame them. I was needy and did, in fact, have an invisible (not imaginary mind you) friend named Nivan (pronounced NEYE-VAN like Ivan with an N) that lived in our vacuum cleaner.
Then, just recently, at Christmas dinner, the explanation emerged courtesy of my older sister.
You see, back in those dark ages me and the sister didn't get along at all. In fact, I was pretty much convinced she was the devil. As most older sisters she was often charged with babysitting me. Unlike most older sisters, her definition of babysitting me was to exploit my fear of sharp objects by threatening to stick me with a thumb tack if I didn't sit on the floor quietly while she watched The Osmonds or The Brady Bunch. Heaven forbid I ask to watch the Price is Right. That would result in a call directly to Santa Clause with report of being a bad child. This threat was soon null after she told me there was no Santa and subsequently replaced with a greater threat of calling my step-grandfather who is arguably the meanest whiteman on this side of the Altantic.
But that's all in the past.
So anyhow, somehow the holiday dinner talk wound its way to childhood memories and monsters in closets. And the following exchange took place:
Sister: "Remember how Ben used to always sleep on the couch?"
Family: "Uh-huh, we couldn't figure out what the deal was."
Sister: "Remember how our closets had spooky crawlspaces that connected the bedrooms and there was a hidden door that popped out of the wall in Ben's room?"
Family: "Yes."
Satan: "Yeah well I thought it might be a good idea to sneak through the closet and pop out and scare Ben one night"
Family: "Are you serious?"
Beezlebub: "Yeah, I was wearing a wolf's mask too."
Family: "Did you really?"
Old Scratch: "Sure did. I jumped out and scared him good."
Family: "How old was Ben at the time?"
Lucifer: "Probably 5 or 6."
Family: "That's gonna generate some bad karma!"
El Diablo: "Yeah, probably"
Family: "So then what happened?"
Girl with Horns and pitchfork: "I ran back to my room and pretended to be asleep, but not before hiding the mask."
Family: "- -"
Sister: "I tried not to laugh as I overheard you trying to convince Ben that there were no such things as monsters in his closet as you walked him back into his room."
Family: "Geez. Sorry about that whole giving you a hard time about sleeping on the couch and if you didn't stop you might grow up to be a hobo stuff."
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Appie Bithdae Guvness
Sorry for the belated birthday tribute to the one and only bootylicious pegasus but apparently your DOB info was lodged on page 24 of the 50 things you're not supposed to know.
Besides, being on time is sooooooo 2005.
Consider this a fashionably late birthday greeting in a David Letterman top ten fashion.
Ten Reasons why the Governess ownz...
10. Her passionate hatred of brendan fraiser.
9. Used to own the world's worst Volvo and wrote a colorful letter to the owner of said Volvo to prove it.
8. Her bliggity blogging posse got me into bliggety blogging.
7. Has a secret (or not-so-secret) email account under the name "dumpslikeatruck."
5. She invented velcro.
4. She is secretly a super hero. She once sat in battery acid while rescuing a small dog and laughed about it. SHE LAUGHED ABOUT IT!
3. Regularly develops restuarant quality halloween costumes such as the lobster cowboy (which is much like my Nun-pirate-Cowboy concept but in a lobsterific sort of fashion).
2. She can literally dominate a 40 (we'll for the first hour or so).
1. Because that's just how it is.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Big Brother Is Watching
So last year for christmas I got this...
That's probably not too shocking, however, from the title I fully expected to learn of no less than 50 things that otherwise I would not know.
Evidently someone felt differently...
That's probably not too shocking, however, from the title I fully expected to learn of no less than 50 things that otherwise I would not know.
Evidently someone felt differently...
Yes, in fact, the book just so happens to be missing pages 17 - 32. I guess the title is more truthful than I originally believed. Perhaps the patriot act ate them.
Happy New Years.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Get ur Gleek on
A snap decision at last friday's hockey game resulted in the topic for today's post, gleeking.
gleek v. squirting liquid (including saliva) through the teeth or from under the tongue; less commonly, squirting saliva directly from the saliva glands or expelling liquid through the sinuses.
Actually, I think the inspiraction stemmed from how I accidently gleeked all over the bald man sitting in front of me, then laughed about it with Senor Rob then remarked that I would, in fact, post about it.
I tried to find some interesting material, pictures or perhaps even a guide online, but alas, there is a positive dearth of e-gleeking. I'm not saying there isn't stuff out there, but I expected much more.
Shame on you Internet! You go home and think about what you are missing!
I did, however, find an interesting online dictionary (from where I swiped the def. above). I'll have to peep that mug when I get some free time.
gleek v. squirting liquid (including saliva) through the teeth or from under the tongue; less commonly, squirting saliva directly from the saliva glands or expelling liquid through the sinuses.
Actually, I think the inspiraction stemmed from how I accidently gleeked all over the bald man sitting in front of me, then laughed about it with Senor Rob then remarked that I would, in fact, post about it.
I tried to find some interesting material, pictures or perhaps even a guide online, but alas, there is a positive dearth of e-gleeking. I'm not saying there isn't stuff out there, but I expected much more.
Shame on you Internet! You go home and think about what you are missing!
I did, however, find an interesting online dictionary (from where I swiped the def. above). I'll have to peep that mug when I get some free time.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
New Year's Resolution
Coming up with a good new year's resolution is pretty much like coming up with a thesis topic. You want it to be both insightful and inciteful and often wait till the last minute and then blurt out whatever comes to your mind (this is, in fact, exactly how I determined my Master's thesis topic "The profitability of socially responsibile business: An emerging reality in the corporate world." --Brief side note--sweet jebus I wish I could still write on that intellectual level but that is besides the point--back to ye olde post...
Past resolutions have been to be more of an a-hole, grow a rat tale, sleep in a card board box, blow a handful of pepper in someone's eye, throw more salt in peoples game, gain 15 pounds of body fat, poke someone with a stick, ride a mechanical bull, learn how to perfectly execute the figure four leg lock then do so on a stranger, answer any question that starts with "can you" with a loud obnoxious "I DUNNO, CAN I" you know typical resolutions.
Until 5 minutes ago, my tentative resolution was to start drinking coffee. Not just any coffee, but nasty coffee. Partly in protest of Starbucks and partly cause it makes a good story. It's all about the good stories people, c'mon!
Then I saw an email which changed EVERYTHING!
Say hello to my new new year's resolution... growing a hair hat.
I guess I have a week or so to sort that one out.
Past resolutions have been to be more of an a-hole, grow a rat tale, sleep in a card board box, blow a handful of pepper in someone's eye, throw more salt in peoples game, gain 15 pounds of body fat, poke someone with a stick, ride a mechanical bull, learn how to perfectly execute the figure four leg lock then do so on a stranger, answer any question that starts with "can you" with a loud obnoxious "I DUNNO, CAN I" you know typical resolutions.
Until 5 minutes ago, my tentative resolution was to start drinking coffee. Not just any coffee, but nasty coffee. Partly in protest of Starbucks and partly cause it makes a good story. It's all about the good stories people, c'mon!
Then I saw an email which changed EVERYTHING!
Say hello to my new new year's resolution... growing a hair hat.
I guess I have a week or so to sort that one out.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
The Lost!-Patsy Cline-45 RPM Record-Johnny Cash-Hip hop connection
Wow. Now that's quite a string of random thoughts.
Or is it?
Let's take a wonka-esque trip through the wanderings of my mind from earlier today.
So any of you Lost fanatics out there might recognize that the show, particularly episodes that center on Kate, have a tendency to feature music by Patsy Cline. Now generally chances are pretty slim that I would take an umprompted interest in Patsy Cline's music, but the liberal use in Lost was just the catalyst to make that happen.
Connection 1 = Lost --> Interest in Patsy Cline
While doing some last minute stocking stuffer shopping at Target, I came across a budget hits CD for one Patsy Cline, the last one in stock nevertheless. $6.99 for her greatest hits PLUS a DVD documentary on her life? YESSSSS!
I spent most of the day listening to the cd and it is quite good. The average length of each song is 2:34 seconds which is great cause you never get to the point of twang saturation on any one song. Now how in the world could have Patsy Cline realized that twangy ass music gets old after the 3 minute mark? The fact of the matter is this, she didn't. The length of her songs was most likely determined by the popular medium at the time, 45 records, which on average hold just over 2 and 1/2 minutes of music.
Connection 2 = Length of Patsy Cline's songs driven by the 45 record
Being the popular medium, everyone put there music out on 45's. Radio stations based the programming based on the length of 45 records. As paid advertising became more important/promenient so did radio station's program formatting, thus if you were an artist and you wanted airplay, you were limited to make songs that were only a few short minutes.
There is a parrallel here that I wish make. I once read Johnny Cash's thoughts on modern country music and he expressed that country music was once a product of culture, but now country music produces culture. He didn't feel that one form was necessarily any better or worse than the other, just different.
Connection 3 = 45 records shift from product to producer, as did country music.
Ok, you've probably stuck with me so far, but wonder how the heck do you make to hip hop, right?
Well, stand back and watch.
Connection 4 = Fo' shizzle! Holla! Tru dat!
Yup that's it.
No it's not.
I would make the arguement that, believe it or not, Rap and Country music share the same family roots. It's just that one genre is rooted in the farmland and the other on the other side of the tracks.
Both grew from an impoverished seed, told the stories of the source, and sometimes offered a sense of hope or a cap in the ass. Both were 100% products of their culture, both grew in popularity to the point of being raped and pillaged on an industrial scale. Both genres went on to produce culture rather them stem from it. Both genres are considered dead in the eyes of purists or maybe just me. And both can be found on my ipod.
Connection 4 (for real) = Rap music = Country music in terms of the progression/life cycle.
Nothing especially funny here. Just a lot of random thoughts.
Welcome to my mind.
Wu tang muthaf@ckers!
Or is it?
Let's take a wonka-esque trip through the wanderings of my mind from earlier today.
So any of you Lost fanatics out there might recognize that the show, particularly episodes that center on Kate, have a tendency to feature music by Patsy Cline. Now generally chances are pretty slim that I would take an umprompted interest in Patsy Cline's music, but the liberal use in Lost was just the catalyst to make that happen.
Connection 1 = Lost --> Interest in Patsy Cline
While doing some last minute stocking stuffer shopping at Target, I came across a budget hits CD for one Patsy Cline, the last one in stock nevertheless. $6.99 for her greatest hits PLUS a DVD documentary on her life? YESSSSS!
I spent most of the day listening to the cd and it is quite good. The average length of each song is 2:34 seconds which is great cause you never get to the point of twang saturation on any one song. Now how in the world could have Patsy Cline realized that twangy ass music gets old after the 3 minute mark? The fact of the matter is this, she didn't. The length of her songs was most likely determined by the popular medium at the time, 45 records, which on average hold just over 2 and 1/2 minutes of music.
Connection 2 = Length of Patsy Cline's songs driven by the 45 record
Being the popular medium, everyone put there music out on 45's. Radio stations based the programming based on the length of 45 records. As paid advertising became more important/promenient so did radio station's program formatting, thus if you were an artist and you wanted airplay, you were limited to make songs that were only a few short minutes.
There is a parrallel here that I wish make. I once read Johnny Cash's thoughts on modern country music and he expressed that country music was once a product of culture, but now country music produces culture. He didn't feel that one form was necessarily any better or worse than the other, just different.
Connection 3 = 45 records shift from product to producer, as did country music.
Ok, you've probably stuck with me so far, but wonder how the heck do you make to hip hop, right?
Well, stand back and watch.
Connection 4 = Fo' shizzle! Holla! Tru dat!
Yup that's it.
No it's not.
I would make the arguement that, believe it or not, Rap and Country music share the same family roots. It's just that one genre is rooted in the farmland and the other on the other side of the tracks.
Both grew from an impoverished seed, told the stories of the source, and sometimes offered a sense of hope or a cap in the ass. Both were 100% products of their culture, both grew in popularity to the point of being raped and pillaged on an industrial scale. Both genres went on to produce culture rather them stem from it. Both genres are considered dead in the eyes of purists or maybe just me. And both can be found on my ipod.
Connection 4 (for real) = Rap music = Country music in terms of the progression/life cycle.
Nothing especially funny here. Just a lot of random thoughts.
Welcome to my mind.
Wu tang muthaf@ckers!
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
One ticket down the mountain please...
Ok, more lies. My creativity went on strike today along with the NY mass transit system. I don't have an Uncle Liu (but, for what it's worth, I do have an Uncle Lew and as far as I know he doesn't ride trees down mountains). I was just looking for a reason to post this picture.
Doodads.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Oh Doo Dads, Where Art thou?
Just so we are all on the same page here, we are talking about a nabisco snack mix.
If you thought otherwise, congrats on being of the dirty old man school of thought, now get your mind out of the gutter.
Apparently, I am not the only one asking this question.
To the uninitiated, Doo Dads may seem nothing more than 2nd rate chex mix, but to those who remain true to the 80s we know otherwise. And while I am not quite sure why, but just recently the mental ghost of this 80s snack mix has reawoken to haunt my mental wanderings.
For example, in my mind it would make for some great drunken craving ravings. Imagine cruising the aisles of food lion asking random employees where they keep their doo dads? Or the cashier who is forced to ask for a price check on doo dads when you accidently scribble out the bar code? In another demented thought, I wondered what would happen if I went to sit on santa's lap as a 30 year old man and asked for some doo dads for christmas? Yeah, even I think that one may cross a line or two.
Sadly, doo dads are nothing more than a fond memory these days after Nabisco pulled the plug on their production. A google search for nabisco doo dads* reveals the awful truth and the corresponding backlash.
Here are some sample responses:
And then there's Doo-Dads. A thousand curses upon the goat-raping bastards at Nabisco for discontinuing Doo-Dads!
DooDads.... man oh man, right now I'd pay 20.00 for a box. Chex mix that they came out with, I cant stand. It works for now. But man, I love eathing doodads with my mom esp. around christmas time. I thing they took a loss of money they could of made from taking it off the shelf.. unless someone knows where to find ANY!!!!!
More interesting is the following picture I found along my search.
If you thought otherwise, congrats on being of the dirty old man school of thought, now get your mind out of the gutter.
Apparently, I am not the only one asking this question.
To the uninitiated, Doo Dads may seem nothing more than 2nd rate chex mix, but to those who remain true to the 80s we know otherwise. And while I am not quite sure why, but just recently the mental ghost of this 80s snack mix has reawoken to haunt my mental wanderings.
For example, in my mind it would make for some great drunken craving ravings. Imagine cruising the aisles of food lion asking random employees where they keep their doo dads? Or the cashier who is forced to ask for a price check on doo dads when you accidently scribble out the bar code? In another demented thought, I wondered what would happen if I went to sit on santa's lap as a 30 year old man and asked for some doo dads for christmas? Yeah, even I think that one may cross a line or two.
Sadly, doo dads are nothing more than a fond memory these days after Nabisco pulled the plug on their production. A google search for nabisco doo dads* reveals the awful truth and the corresponding backlash.
Here are some sample responses:
And then there's Doo-Dads. A thousand curses upon the goat-raping bastards at Nabisco for discontinuing Doo-Dads!
DooDads.... man oh man, right now I'd pay 20.00 for a box. Chex mix that they came out with, I cant stand. It works for now. But man, I love eathing doodads with my mom esp. around christmas time. I thing they took a loss of money they could of made from taking it off the shelf.. unless someone knows where to find ANY!!!!!
More interesting is the following picture I found along my search.
Perhaps it explains the mysterious dissappearance. I guess my only hope is ebay.
*If you decide to google search doo dads, I highly recommend turning on the safe search function. Otherwise, chances are you will end up with a bunch of links to somebody's bean bag.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Merrillze Chistmasdizzle Bizzle
Thursday, December 15, 2005
It's all about the contrast effect...
Before I get too deep into this post, it would serve me well to first explain what the contrast effect is and what it does.
Simpy put, the contrast effect is the alteration of one's perception of a given thing by placing said given thing in juxtaposition (woohoo bonus points for using a big word for side by side) with another thing.
For example, computer literacy/technological saviness were quite different when I was an undergrad. Yes, it's true! Sure we had computers but their saturation was no where near the levels today.
It was a time (albiet the twilight hours) of the DOS prompt, Word Perfect, and a Non-GUI based version of SPSS (scary times for sure). In fact, this was the year before Netscape and other visual based web browsers were even available on campus (although we did have access to the Internet and text based pages).
Needless to say, about the most computers were used for was (a) writing term papers and (b) playing minesweeper.
So on with the story, some classmates and me had to deliver a presentation for our research methods class based on our experiment investigating whether or not people could differentiate Diet vs Regular Dr. Pepper in a blind taste test. Our preparation was rather simply. Get up and talk. We opted to go second.
The first group proceed to pull out a laptop and laser pointer and delivered what, at the time, was pretty much rocket science.
Merlin's Beard! How do you follow that?
Unless we found out the Dr. Pepper cures cancer or maybe the clap, we were pretty much guaranteed a 2nd place finish at best.
My feeble recourse was to open the presentation as follows...
Me: "Before we get start, I just wanted to say two words: Contrast Effect."
The teacher laughed and I knew that we at least had a shot at taking those damn techies down or at a minimum not failing, which was fine by me.
As a second, more contemporaneous example of the contrast effect, for as much of a turd I thought Fantastic Four was, it was pretty much Citzen Kane* as compared to the remake of the Dukes of Hazzard.
As much as I enjoyed the original TV show, truth be told they did not set the bar exceptionally high. So to screw up the movie is the equivalent of screwing up the task of boiling water.
A blonde Daisy Duke? A dark, brooding Roscoe? An uncle Jessy that smokes pot out of an apple? Hazzard County THIS IS NOT! Tom Wopat** is rolling over in his grave right now.
* I never saw Citizen Kane, but I once read it was good. BTW Rosebud was his sleigh. He musta been a weirdo or something, I mean the dude is about to punch out and he starts going on about his sled? I hope he was drugged with Hippo Tranqs or something.
** Technically speaking Tom Wopat is not dead, but if he were, you bet your ass he'd be rolling like it was his job.
Simpy put, the contrast effect is the alteration of one's perception of a given thing by placing said given thing in juxtaposition (woohoo bonus points for using a big word for side by side) with another thing.
For example, computer literacy/technological saviness were quite different when I was an undergrad. Yes, it's true! Sure we had computers but their saturation was no where near the levels today.
It was a time (albiet the twilight hours) of the DOS prompt, Word Perfect, and a Non-GUI based version of SPSS (scary times for sure). In fact, this was the year before Netscape and other visual based web browsers were even available on campus (although we did have access to the Internet and text based pages).
Needless to say, about the most computers were used for was (a) writing term papers and (b) playing minesweeper.
So on with the story, some classmates and me had to deliver a presentation for our research methods class based on our experiment investigating whether or not people could differentiate Diet vs Regular Dr. Pepper in a blind taste test. Our preparation was rather simply. Get up and talk. We opted to go second.
The first group proceed to pull out a laptop and laser pointer and delivered what, at the time, was pretty much rocket science.
Merlin's Beard! How do you follow that?
Unless we found out the Dr. Pepper cures cancer or maybe the clap, we were pretty much guaranteed a 2nd place finish at best.
My feeble recourse was to open the presentation as follows...
Me: "Before we get start, I just wanted to say two words: Contrast Effect."
The teacher laughed and I knew that we at least had a shot at taking those damn techies down or at a minimum not failing, which was fine by me.
As a second, more contemporaneous example of the contrast effect, for as much of a turd I thought Fantastic Four was, it was pretty much Citzen Kane* as compared to the remake of the Dukes of Hazzard.
As much as I enjoyed the original TV show, truth be told they did not set the bar exceptionally high. So to screw up the movie is the equivalent of screwing up the task of boiling water.
A blonde Daisy Duke? A dark, brooding Roscoe? An uncle Jessy that smokes pot out of an apple? Hazzard County THIS IS NOT! Tom Wopat** is rolling over in his grave right now.
* I never saw Citizen Kane, but I once read it was good. BTW Rosebud was his sleigh. He musta been a weirdo or something, I mean the dude is about to punch out and he starts going on about his sled? I hope he was drugged with Hippo Tranqs or something.
** Technically speaking Tom Wopat is not dead, but if he were, you bet your ass he'd be rolling like it was his job.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Fantastic Four Questions
I watched Fantastic Four last night and as far as I am concerned, it raised far too many thought provoking questions for the mindless sort of action film genre from which it comes.
In fact, the final confrontation includes a question that asks something to the effect of "Do you know what happens when you rapidly cool super hot metal?" No, actually I don't. Thanks for making me feel stupid and thanks some more for not answering the question you hoser.
There are others as well. For instance, when Ben Grimm becomes "the thing" where does his forth finger go? God only knows.
Let's not forget Dr. Doom. After becoming a supervillan, where in the world would Dr. Doom go grocery shopping? I can't imagine he would stoop to paying someone to do it for him. After all we KNOW Dr. Doom is NOT a diva!
It just doesn't add up. They really need to go back to the drawing board and recast this movie using the four horsemen. No not those bloody footballers, rather the epitome of 1980s wrestling villanry (is that even a word?)
Yes, a movie featuring good ole Nature Boy Ric Flair WOOOOOOOO! and his delightfully devious sidekicks Tully Blanchard (watch out for the sling shot suplex) and the Minnesota wrecking crew...Arn and Ole Anderson.
Now that would be some good watching.
In fact, the final confrontation includes a question that asks something to the effect of "Do you know what happens when you rapidly cool super hot metal?" No, actually I don't. Thanks for making me feel stupid and thanks some more for not answering the question you hoser.
There are others as well. For instance, when Ben Grimm becomes "the thing" where does his forth finger go? God only knows.
Let's not forget Dr. Doom. After becoming a supervillan, where in the world would Dr. Doom go grocery shopping? I can't imagine he would stoop to paying someone to do it for him. After all we KNOW Dr. Doom is NOT a diva!
It just doesn't add up. They really need to go back to the drawing board and recast this movie using the four horsemen. No not those bloody footballers, rather the epitome of 1980s wrestling villanry (is that even a word?)
Yes, a movie featuring good ole Nature Boy Ric Flair WOOOOOOOO! and his delightfully devious sidekicks Tully Blanchard (watch out for the sling shot suplex) and the Minnesota wrecking crew...Arn and Ole Anderson.
Now that would be some good watching.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Friday's Helpful Hints...
Good Grief, have you seen the news today?
Grandmothers being tasered, kids being kept in boxes (maybe they should have read yesterday's blog) and planes running over babies, how can I compete with that?
I won't!
Instead here is some helpful information...
STROKE IDENTIFICATION
During a BBQ a friend stumbled and took a little fall - she assured everyone that she was fine (they offered to call paramedics) and just tripped over a brick because of her new shoes. They got her cleaned up and got her a new plate of food - while she appeared a bit shaken up, Ingrid went about enjoying herself the rest of the evening.
Ingrid's husband called later telling everyone that his wife had been taken to the hospital - (at 6:00pm, Ingrid passed away.) She had suffered a stroke at the BBQ - had they known how to identify the signs of a stroke perhaps Ingrid would be with us today.
It only takes a minute to read this-A neurologist says that if he can get to a stroke victim within 3 hours he can totally reverse the effects of a stroke...totally. He said the trick was getting a stroke recognized, diagnosed and getting to the patient within 3 hours which is tough.
Field Diagnosis of a STROKE. The "3" steps.
Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to identify. Unfortunately, the lack of awareness spells disaster. The stroke victim may suffer brain damage when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of a stroke.
Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a stroke by asking three simple questions:
1. *Ask the individual to SMILE.
2. *Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS.
3. *Ask the person to SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE (Coherently) (i.e. . It is sunny out today)
If he or she has trouble with any of these tasks, call 9-1-1 immediately and describe the symptoms to the dispatcher.
After discovering that a group of non-medical volunteers could identifyfacial weakness, arm weakness and speech problems, researchers urged the general public to learn the three questions. They presented their conclusions at the American Stroke Association's annual meeting last February. Widespread use of this test could result in prompt diagnosis andtreatment of the stroke and prevent brain damage.
And in case you were wondering, here's how to indentify THE STROKES:
Grandmothers being tasered, kids being kept in boxes (maybe they should have read yesterday's blog) and planes running over babies, how can I compete with that?
I won't!
Instead here is some helpful information...
STROKE IDENTIFICATION
During a BBQ a friend stumbled and took a little fall - she assured everyone that she was fine (they offered to call paramedics) and just tripped over a brick because of her new shoes. They got her cleaned up and got her a new plate of food - while she appeared a bit shaken up, Ingrid went about enjoying herself the rest of the evening.
Ingrid's husband called later telling everyone that his wife had been taken to the hospital - (at 6:00pm, Ingrid passed away.) She had suffered a stroke at the BBQ - had they known how to identify the signs of a stroke perhaps Ingrid would be with us today.
It only takes a minute to read this-A neurologist says that if he can get to a stroke victim within 3 hours he can totally reverse the effects of a stroke...totally. He said the trick was getting a stroke recognized, diagnosed and getting to the patient within 3 hours which is tough.
Field Diagnosis of a STROKE. The "3" steps.
Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to identify. Unfortunately, the lack of awareness spells disaster. The stroke victim may suffer brain damage when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of a stroke.
Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a stroke by asking three simple questions:
1. *Ask the individual to SMILE.
2. *Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS.
3. *Ask the person to SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE (Coherently) (i.e. . It is sunny out today)
If he or she has trouble with any of these tasks, call 9-1-1 immediately and describe the symptoms to the dispatcher.
After discovering that a group of non-medical volunteers could identifyfacial weakness, arm weakness and speech problems, researchers urged the general public to learn the three questions. They presented their conclusions at the American Stroke Association's annual meeting last February. Widespread use of this test could result in prompt diagnosis andtreatment of the stroke and prevent brain damage.
And in case you were wondering, here's how to indentify THE STROKES:
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Warning!
So I was getting out the wrapping paper and noticed this handy little warning on the inside of the lid.
Apparently, the rubbermaid tote is not suitable for storing Webster or any other small humans. Damn. I was totally thinking I could avoid the whole nursery thing some day by storing my baby in that thing. I mean come on, it is semi-transparent, so I could totally see if the kid was misbehaving.
Here's another, not so obvious warning I came across.
Look closely. See that purple moon and stars? Bet you think that signifies "nighttime" right? Hellllll no. Drink one or two swigs too many in the alotted 4 hr period and that's the sort of stuff your are liable to start seeing. In fact, that's exactly how general mills comes up with new marshmellow ideas for lucky charms.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Monday, December 05, 2005
Birthday Shenanigans
1. Blacking out -- Check
2. Finding a shot glass in my pants when I got home (in fact 2) -- Check
3. Booting -- negative ghostrider
Well 2 out of 3 ain't bad.
Many people fear the 21st birthday, but in reality, the true danger is the 30th. You see, several forces (ie increased discretionary income among your friends, your own decrease in tolerance ect ect ect) combine like Voltron and generally work against your favor.
Plus there must be some kind of unwritten rule that no two people can buy you the same drink. I basically had the Whitman's sampler of booze. The night started out gently enough with an oatmeal cookie (that's a shot not an actual cookie) courtesey of D. Magical.
Things quickly progressed and before I knew it, I received my first cement mixer. Not too bad when it starts out, but after 10 seconds of shaking, things start to get ugly. After about 30 seconds, it's like having a mouth full of battlecat's litter.
As time passed, my memories started to have a strobe-light effect. Yeah, you know what I am talking about. Dave Attell call's it time travel.
In one of my lucid bouts, I ran into some unexpected friends from high school and elementary school which was a nice surprise. It pretty much completed my collection of friends from different eras.
Soon after I was hand another shot (big surprise). It was red and fruity. Was it the fabled woo woo? I don't know. Did it contain a ruffie? Probably. Was it a catalyst to frank the tank? Yes. bang bang bang bang load it up again!
I think a game of edward 40 hands was tentatively scheduled for the second week of January. The game will be held in the woods, far away from sharp objects.
In all, it was a great night. Probably the best birthday ever. Much better than the bowling alley party I had when I was six.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
1980licious
If any guilty pleasure trumps that of propaganda, it would have to be the 80s (as if you couldn't guess by the random pictures of transformers, he-man and people setting themselves on fire--a true mark of excess).
So, thinking back to the 80s, does anyone remember Laser tag? I mean OG real deal laser tag?
So, thinking back to the 80s, does anyone remember Laser tag? I mean OG real deal laser tag?
I have one of those very same game kits stuffed away in my parent's attic along with several boxes of 1989 Topps baseball cards full of worthless roiders and some dude named Bo Jackson.
Laser tag is an excellent example of "great in theory, retarded in application."
You see, getting a single set is kind of like getting a dart board with nothing to throw at it. Sure you could hurl your mom's Ginsus or maybe even your compass from school, but that's only if you were good at thinking out of the box. For most kids, the best you could do is train to be kurt cobain and shoot yourself.
We played Laser tag at recess and by we I mean me and this rich kid named Garun as we were the only two kids with sets. The rest of the smucks had to sit and watch. Not only did Garun have the same set as me, but he also had the official laser tag vest and helmet. These two items, while cool in looks, served no functional purpose aside from giving me additional targets to shoot at, which would explain how I regularly kicked his ass at a ratio of 3:1.
So you probably assume I was a spoiled rich kid too. How else would I have the much coveted (think of an xbox 360) toy? Did I steal it? Hmmm, I guess that is a matter of personal definition and ties closely to whether or not you agree if certain politicians steal elections.
You see the local safeway had a drawing for one of these sets. And I was determined to win. I have always considered myself lucky, so I just knew I would win. My confidence, however, did not stem from my faith in luck as much as my ability to read fine print (enter as often as you like) and kathy lee gifford sweatshop dedication of filling out every damn entry in the store approximately 4,358. I burned the remaining 642 for good measure.
A few weeks later I got a call from the manager informing me that I won. I informed the manager that I knew. He seemed puzzled. I quickly feigned that I was merely joking and enlisted my thespian skills to show my excitement.
Yeahhhhhhh Wooooooooo I can't believe it*
*it being the silly enter as often as you like clause
Oh 80s, you so funny!
Lost--SPOILER ALERT
While surfing around the net I discovered some interesting information.
Apparently a disgruntled gaffer from the set of Lost start dropping all sorts of juicy secrets about that dog-gone mysterious island.
Most notably, he revealed in great detail the island's security system/monster, Battlecat.
Apparently a disgruntled gaffer from the set of Lost start dropping all sorts of juicy secrets about that dog-gone mysterious island.
Most notably, he revealed in great detail the island's security system/monster, Battlecat.
Yeah Battlecat has steez like you wouldn't believe!
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