The Post Where I Try And Win People Back...

After that sleazy last post, I think I may need to win some of you back. I was in a college fraternity (bad start). Remember in college that really dorky fraternity full of engineering students? Well, we were the ones they made fun of. Besides a few close friendships, one of the best parts of my fraternity experience was the Journey Of Hope. It was a charitable cross-country bike ride from San Francisco to Washington, D.C. to raise money and awareness for the severely disabled. It was made up of Pi Kappa Phi members from chapters all over the U.S. In order to qualify, I was required to raise $4000 in sponsorships. The ride lasted two months and totaled about 3500 miles. We had a crew with support vehicles, so we only had to carry what we needed on the road. Along the way we did a lot of visits to group homes and put on puppet shows for kids to teach them about what it's like to have different disablilties. I'm the guy with the mop of white hair, back row, eighth from the left. I'm mentioning this not just to dig myself out of a blogging hole, but because this year's team is about to finish their ride any day now and it's been on my mind. I've been following a blog kept by one of this year's team HERE. They've stayed in many of the same places I did and shared a lot of the same experiences. It's a great charity, so if you're looking for a cause to throw some money at, I recommend it.

You Probably Saw This Already...

My sentiments exactly...

Go Away...

For the love of god, would someone please tell X-tina that it's NOT 1940 and she is NOT Marilyn Monroe. Good lord.

Nice cleavage, though...

Documentary Film Of The Day - Little Dieter Needs To Fly...

I've become a fan of the films of Werner Herzog thanks to my Netflix subscription. He has made great dramatic films (Fitzcarraldo, Aguirre:The Wrath Of God) as well as documentaries. His pseudo-performace in "Incident At Loch Ness" is priceless. This particular film follows Dieter Dengler as he relives what happened when his plane was shot down during the Vietnam War. Dieter had grown up in World War II-era Germany. Ironically, it was the bombing of his small village that inspired him to be a pilot. He saw them as invincible. After immigrating to the U.S. with nothing, he joined the Air Force. On one of his first missions he was shot down, eventually captured, held and tortured for six months, then escaped from the Viet Cong. He is filmed retracing many of the steps he was forced to take as a prisoner. He also reunites with the pilot that eventually spotted and saved him. Very interesting and well made.

Joementum...

I'd just like to congratulate the voters of Connecticut for understanding that there is no rule that says you must vote for the incumbent. I just hope that the rest of the voters get rid of a guy who does not represent the interests of the majority of Connecticut or the rest of the country for that matter. Plus, he's got an annoying voice.

Travel Tips: Part 2...

Lesson #2: Contrary to popular belief, The Hanford Nuclear Site in southeastern Washington State is NOT a tourist attraction.

Do You Think We Could Convince Her To Stay?...

So some boozed-up, spoiled celebriteen (yes, I know she's twenty now) wants to see a war zone? I say OK, but only if she's prepared to venture outside the Green Zone and man a checkpoint somewhere or do some door-to-door weapons searches. Either that or she has to do a live donkey show on stage for the troops. Media Whore, extraordinaire!

Story: Report: Lindsay Lohan Wants To See Iraq

Travel Tips: Part 1...

This will be the first in a series of things I learned in my travels around the United States. After working for a year after college, my friend, Guido and I thought it was high time we took a break from the corporate world. What started out as idle talk at a bar one night turned into a full-fledged plan of action. We decided to buy a big van, build some bunks in it, and cruise around the country without any real itinerary. We stayed with friends as much as we could, but otherwise lived in the van, staying in hotel parking lots and free campgrounds. We managed to live like this for about five months. You can see a few pics HERE and a route map HERE.

Lesson #1: If you come across a drunken, belligerent lesbian stripper at a bar in Albequerque, New Mexico and you refer to her as a "hermaphrodite", you may get a drink tossed in your face.

Playing Politics...

It seems that every time I write about politics, it's about something I hate or something that bugs me or something I'm sick of. I'm afraid this post will be no exception. One of the most loathesome, overused phrases in political parlance is "playing politics". It usually comes up when some politician is asked to respond to criticism from someone in the opposing party. They use it in place of an actual answer to the question. An example:

Pundit of your choice: Senator Douchebag, in a recent article in Cat Fancy Magazine, Senator Slightly-Less-Of-A-Douchebag compared your position on gay amputee midget marriage as, "stealing a page out of Goebbel's playbook". How do you respond?

Senator Douchebag: Senator Slightly-Less-Of-A-Douchebag is just playing politics.

It is such a blatant skirting of a legitimate issue - in this case, the rights of gay amputee midgets in love. Of course they are playing politics! In case you forgot - you're a fucking politician! That's what you do! It's like saying, "That Peyton Manning, he's just playing football." Obviously.

**Edited to add: Any politician who uses the "playing politics"-line is, in effect, playing politics. The proper use of the phrase is probably right at the top of the poltician's playbook. As soon as one politician accuses another of "playing politics", they immediately become a hypocrite - in case they weren't one already, which they most likely were.

Nicknames...

Sorry about the lack of posts recently. I just got back from a long weekend in Chicago with friends and family. One of my regular stops in Chicago is my friends' restaurant, Club Lago. Longtime friends Guido and GianCarlo own and operate this fine neighborhood joint that specializes in Northern Italian cuisine. It's at the corner of Superior and Orleans.

As a result of my increased internet presence (my blog, MySpace, my porn site), I have reconnected with a number of friends that I'd lost touch with. I didn't go to my 10-year high school reunion. For one thing, small talk is my least favorite type of talk. I can abide any other kind of talk: conservative talk, religious talk, certainly bawdy talk, but not small talk. So I thought it'd be fun to try and round up just the people I was friends with and see who would show. I told them I'd be at Club Lago on the 5th, around 6 pm, and if they could make it - great. If not, no big deal. Well, a bunch showed, even one of our beloved teachers from high school came out. It was great and there was minimal small talk. A lot of people called me by my nickname, "Monkey Balls", which I find funny because of the lack of any good explanation as to how I got it. Thanks to those who came out and I hope to do it again. And for those of you who find yourself in Chicago at some point, be sure to check out the Lago. Tell them Monkey Balls sent you.

A "Clerks" Moment...

Those of you who have worked as a clerk in a gas station, convenience store, or have at least seen Kevin Smith's movie "Clerks" (the original one) know that these types of jobs can be the source of much hilarity. Back in the early nineties, between college and my first "real" job, I worked at Dick's Phillips 66 in Elmhurst, IL. I worked with a guy named Dan Konopka, currently the drummer for the band "OK Go" (Check out their kick-ass new video, link courtesy of the "Bells On" blog). The gas station did not have a convenience store like most nowadays, but we did sell pop, candy, and the cheapest smokes in town ($1.87 at the time). There was always only one of us working at any given time and the bathroom was on the side of the shop and required a key. One evening, towards the end of my shift, Dan showed up and asked if he could have to key so he could use the bathroom before I took off. He soon came back, asking if anyone else had used the bathroom that day. "Yeah, there was one guy", I said.

"Did he have a beard and look sort of like a lumberjack?" Dan asked

"Yeah, he did. Why do you ask?"

"Check this out."

Dan took me back to the bathroom and showed me. This guy had taken a massive, heaping dump on the floor in the opposite corner from the toilet. Then, for good measure, he had rammed the toilet paper roll into the bottom of the bowl. As he grabbed a shovel, Dan informed me that this guy had done this before. There was nothing suspicious about him at the time and he didn't seem pissed off in any way. God only knows how many gas stations this guy has struck around the country.

Hollywood Laziness, Part 2: Blossom...

I'm trying to load up on posts so that you vultures will have stuff to chew on while I'm away this weekend. This is another stab at a proposal for a TV show adaptation for the big screen (See my "Golden Girls" post below). Again, not safe for small children and uptight people.

Seeing as this show was often advertised with the tagline "Tonight, on a very special "Blossom" that every adult should watch with their children", I think it only fitting that the film adaptation be a hard hitting drama, perhaps along the lines of a movie like "Thirteen", rather than the light comedies I've suggested thus far. As we know, besides being funky, spunky, and fashion forward, Blossom (as played by Mayim Bialik), was not exactly a typical Hollywood beauty. Let's face it, she looked like a pubescent female version of Jimmy Durante. In order to compensate for her physical shortcomings (not to mention having to live in the shadow of resident pie-face Joey Lawrence - Whoa!) Blossom decides to put her go-getter ambition into action. She convinces herself that with enough gumption and stick-to-it-tiveness she can train herself in the art of radical reconstructive surgery. You see, the Russo household is by no means wealthy. There is no way she could afford this costly procedure by conventional means. Blossom's dad, Nick, is a single dad trying to raise his family on a jazz musician's wages while trying to secretly support an out of control latex fetish. Not to mention all the money wasted on Joey's addiction to scratch-and-sniff stickers (he likes the Root Beer one the best!). Blossom is not one to throw in the towel so easy, however. When she wants something, she goes for it! So Blossom feverishly tries to learn all she can about anatomy, scalpel control, and so forth (I see an "Eye Of The Tiger"- work your ass off-style montage here). Seeing as she is new to this and is somewhat apprehensive, besides not wanting to fuck up her mug any more than it already is, she decides it might be smart to practice on someone first. Enter Six, Blossom's much cuter (but much dumber) friend. After Blossom explains her plan, an eager Six, always looking to help her friend agrees, saying, "Cool, Blossom! I've always wanted my mouth to be on the side of my face!" As they prepare the surgical instruments, Joey, who is wearing Batman Underoos, walks into the room and over to an open second-story window, shouts "Vive La France!" and jumps out. The two girls, aware that sometimes Joey forgets about things like gravity, don't seem to pay him any mind and continue on. Well, as you can guess, Blossom turns Six's face into a bloody mess. She now has a jagged, gaping hole through her left cheek. A few days pass, but Blossom is undeterred. She still thinks she can perform her own surgery. The family assembles for an intervention. Nick will be the lead and will be supported by Joey, who is now in a Stephen Hawking-type wheelchair, and Six, whose head is all bandaged and whose mouth is packed with gauze (finally shutting her up for once!). They sit her down and Nick starts to explain how they are all worried about her. Joey just keeps typing in "Whoa" on his electronic voice simulator. Six mumbles "Gmbph frud wiefevvnuf glux." Blossom breaks down. She realizes all the pain she is causing. In the meantime, Anthony, Blossom's long lost coke-head brother walks into the house without a stitch on and a broom handle sticking out his ass whistling "Yankee Doodle", then leaves. No explanation is given. At any rate, Blossom agrees she needs help. They sign her up for a twelve step program at the local community center, but on the way to her first meeting she gets hit by a bus. The End.

Sweetness...

I turn 34-years-old today. 34 was the number of Walter "Sweetness" Payton, the lone reason I was able to watch the Bears in my early youth without slitting my wrists. Anyone familiar with the pre-1985 Bears squads knows of the massive amount of suck they exhibited. Walter was the only thing worth watching. The entire Bears offensive strategy could be summed up in four words - give it to Walter. He was the only guy on the team that seemed to want to win. He fought for every yard, often turning what looked like a 2-yard run into 8 or 9. I hope Coach Ditka can sleep at night knowing he "gave" that dope Refrigerator Perry a Super Bowl touchdown rather than Walter.

How Can You Not Love Him?...

My job is to do — is to do two things, one, remind people about the war on terror, and remind them that we're doing everything we can to protect them, so that they're able to go about their lives. In other words, what you don't want is, you don't want an economy to shut down because people are worried about the next terrorist attack. It's a — you know, it's — you want the environment for — for people taking risks to be such that people say, "I understand that there's a War on Terror, but I'm still willing to take risk. You know, taking risk in our system is how people form businesses and how jobs are created. And, so, I — I — I'm not surprised that some have said, "Well, this war is really not a war anymore." But I know it's a war and I think about it every day of my presidency. I think about Al Qaeda every day. I'm asking questions all the time: Are we doing everything we can to protect this country? - George W. Bush in an interview with Neil Cavuto of...guess who...Fox News, July 31, 2006

There you have it. He's only got to do two things: Remind us of the (neverending) War On Terrah AND remind they're doing everything they can. I mean, come on! That's HARD WORK! It just makes you want to cry. Either that or dig a big hole and crawl into until he's gone.

In Defense Of Single Men With Cats...

The common perception is that single men who own cats are effeminate, creepy, or both. Well, I am a single male, I have a cat, and I'm neither. His name is "The Assman" (yes, named for the famous Seinfeld episode). He is a Maine Coon Cat. He is not a typical cat in that he's more like a dog. He is not aloof like most cats. He comes to the door each day when I get home from work. He speaks on command. He's not timid around people or other animals. He is loyal. One day, at my old place, I was getting home from work. I was surprised that he wasn't waiting at the door like he usually did. I looked around the house and found him staring into a corner behind the water heater. I guessed that he had cornered a mouse, something that seldom happened, but something I had gotten used to living in the woods. After about an hour he was still back there, so I decided to check on him. He wasn't there. The bathroom off that room's door was cracked. Odd, I thought, he never goes in there. I open the door to find the cat cornering a 2.5-foot long Milk Snake that had its head cocked, hissing. Scared the living shit out of me! The cat sat calmly, not attacking, just guarding. I went and found a box, slowly trapped the snake underneath and drove it down the road to a park. I have no idea how it got in and never saw another one.

You Want Mundane? I'll Give You Mundane...

My weekly lunch routine:

Monday: Place: La Senorita Restaurant, Petoskey MI
Menu Selection: One Tamale (ala carte) + One Flauta (ala carte), Water, Free chips & salsa
Tuesday: Place: Jose's Authentic Mexican Restaurant, Petoskey, MI
Menu Selection: One Steak Burrito (w/ extra steak), One Chorizo Taco, Water
Wednesday: Place: China King Buffet, Petoskey, MI
Menu Selection: Sweet & Sour Chicken, Onion Rings, Steak Special,
Sesame Chicken, Water, Chocolate Soft Serve Cone
Thursday: Place: La Senorita Restaurant, Petoskey, MI
Menu Selection: Western BBQ Burger (Special), Fries, Water, Free chips & salsa
Friday: Place: Scalawag's Whitefish, Petoskey, MI
Menu Selection: 2-Piece Whitefish Basket (includes 3 pieces of Whitefish, 2 Hushpuppies, Slaw, & Fries), Water

Remembering Things...

I don't claim to have a photographic memory, but I do have a knack for remembering things that have minimal or no importance. For instance, I can remember the contents of each drawer and cabinet in the kitchen of the house I grew up in, down to the minutest detail. I can remember, when I was four, when and where I was the first time I figured out that the blinking red lights on the back of a car indicated which way it was going to turn.

The summer after third grade we took our first big family vacation. We drove from Elmhurst, IL to Colorado and all around the state. One of our stops was the town of Durango. They had this old-time railroad trip you could take through the mountains to Silverton. At the beginning of the trip, as the train was passing people's backyards, I spied a man holding a hose between his legs, watering his garden. He held it like he was pissing. Of course any eight-year-old would find this funny and, mind you, this is well before I saw something similar in "Caddyshack". At the time I made a point of thinking to myself that that sight would be the one thing I would never forget, no matter what. I have no idea why. To this day, anytime I tell myself I can't forget this or that, that image always pops into my head.

I'm Back...

Did y'all miss me? I had this really snappy "Welcome back" photo to go with this post, but of course Blogger won't let me upload it. Sunza bitches! To see what sort of mayhem I've been up to, my recent posts are over at Grant's blog betweeen 7-21 and 7-29. Because of all the new friends I made over there, I had to create a new folder in my "Favorites" pull-down entitled "blogs". I'm still coping with the radical change and am not yet used to that one extra mouse click. It's good to be back!

To My Loyal Readers (All Three Of You)...

Starting Friday I will be guest blogging for my friend, Grant Miller, while he's away on vacation. During this time I won't be adding new posts to this blog. I invite all newcomers to read through my hilarious previous posts so that you're caught up when I return. For those of you who came to my blog via Grant's, welcome! I plan on regaling you with tales of the sordid youth of young Grant.

Believe It Or Not...

Believe it or not I have never had a cup of coffee. I have been in a Starbucks once while a friend was buying one. Actually, I think the closest Starbucks is about an hour and a half away from where I live. Once a friend of mine shamed me into drinking some Italian after-dinner drink that had coffee in it, but as for a straight-up cuppa joe - never. Not even a sip.

Documentary Film Of The Day - Stevie...

I just watched this movie again on either IFC or The Sundance Channel. It was made by Steve James, the same guy who brought us the unbelievably good "Hoop Dreams". While in college at Southern Illinois University, Steve became a "Big Brother" to a troubled child named Stevie Fielding. Stevie had been neglected and abused as a child and bounced around foster homes and juvenile detention centers. When Steve finished school and moved to Chicago, he lost touch with Stevie. Years later he wanted to find out what became of him. What he found was a conflicted man, prone to violence, living in a trailer next to his adoptive grandmother. It is discovered that Stevie had sexually abused his eight-year-old cousin, although he never really admits to it. Surprisingly, the movie portrays Stevie as someone who is at times terrifyingly hostile as well as pitiable because of the horrible upbringing he had to endure. There are times I questioned the wisdom of Mr. James decision to document the things that he did. In the end, though, the insight that is gained as a result of the extraordinary access he was given is invaluable.

Media Bitchlick, Numero Uno...

Bill O'Reilly is a cunt-ass peehole.

O.C.D....

I think that each one of us has symptoms of O.C.D. to a certain extent. A lot of mine deal with how I eat different foods. I'm a big fan of Strawberry Twizzlers. I eat every one exactly the same way. First, I bite off each end, approximately 1/4", so I essentially have a straw. I don't use it as a straw, but I do suck one end to make sure there is good air flow. Then I take a series of individual bites about 3/4" in length. I orient each 3/4" section in my mouth so that it is parallel to my front teeth, with each end facing my cheeks. I bite down through the top and "open" it with my tongue so that what I have is a flat rectangular piece. Then I turn the flattened piece 90 degrees in my mouth (the long axis is now perpendicular to my teeth) and take a series of "mini-bites", still with my incisors, so that I'm left with something about the consistency of couscous. At this point I grind it with my back teeth and quickly move on to the next 3/4" bite. Does this make me a psycho?

Did He Say What I Think He Said...

Well, leave it to our idiot press to blow something completely out of proportion. Leave it to them to get their panties in a bunch over something so ridiculous. Oh my god! The president said shit! Oh boy, oh boy! Seriously? Is that what we're going to focus on? How about, just for kicks, we look at what he said and how utterly simplistic it is.

Bush: What they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit, and it’s over…

Wow, it's that easy! Just do that and all these innocent people who were caught in the crosshairs of leaders trying to prove their penises aren't small won't have to die. That this is the guy at the helm of our foreign policy should frighten us far more than the fact that he has a potty-mouth. For god's sake. Is this the best we can do? This goes for all my lefty friends, too, who are making a big deal about this. Sure he's an embarassment with poor manners, but that is not important. The world already knows that.

There Art Thou...

How nice to see that our favorite drooler emerged from his underground lair that he shares with Dick Cheney and Richard Perle to grace us with his musings on the Plame affair and his complicity therein. For anyone who may have missed his Meet The Press foray, here is some material to consider. He is a big ol' liar, no two ways about it! Suck it, Bobby!