Calling All Chicago Area Bloggers...

Over the course of my recent road trip I had the opportunity to meet in person a few of the people I've come to know through blogging. It was such a fun experience that I thought I'd propose a gathering for people in and around Chicago sometime during the week of Christmas. Now, I know that this is usually a hectic time for many people, but if anyone CAN swing it, I think it'd be a good time. If anyone has a preference as far as day of the week (I'm thinking any day Tues. thru Fri.), leave them in the comments. My default meeting place is usually my friend's restaurant, Club Lago, but I'm open to suggestions. The best way I've found to do things like this is to keep it informal. If you can come, great. If not, no big deal. Here is a list of people I think live in or around Chicago. If I'm forgetting anyone, let me (and them) know. The more the merrier!

• Grant Miller
• Frank
• Geo
• the boys at Nevada Thunder
  
• Phil
• Dave
  
• Lulu
• Valerie
• Tenacious S
• Johnny Yen
• Echo?

Who did I forget? Or, if you happen to be visiting from out of town, by all means come! Or even if you're a lurker, join us! I'll give more details once we settle on a date...

Random Acts Of Kindness...

One of the many pleasures of this blogging business has been meeting people that like some of the same shit as me. A regular reader, Randy (a friend of Vikki's), and I are both big time XTC fans. I had mentioned to him how I had lost my copy of "English Settlement" a while ago and had meant to replace it. Randy took it upon himself to e-mail me, one at a time, each track. They were all I-Pod ready. I realized how much I had missed those songs. Thanks again, Randy! There is some good karma headed your way!

Getting Shit Mixed Up...

For some reason, I'm always thinking Timbuktu is in Asia. It's not. It's in Mali in Africa. I think I get it mixed up with Kathmandu, which IS in Asia. They both end with an "oo" sound and have three syllables.

This happens almost daily.

Monday Morning Quarterbacking...

Those of you who read this blog regularly know that I am a slave to pundit-based TV. It is a guilty pleasure that is heavy on guilt and light on pleasure. As such, I am very well versed in all the silly talking points. A very common one (used mainly by repubos) since the beginning of the Iraq War goes something like this:

(Insert host's name), What we need to be doing now is addressing the current situation. We can debate all day long the mistakes that were made in getting us into this war. That doesn't do us any good. The fact is we're in there now and where do we go from here. All this Monday morning quarterbacking gets us nowhere.

Um, bullshit.

This is among one of the most ridiculous concepts since the whole "peace with honor" nonsense. Tell me, what is the first thing a football team does Monday morning after a game, besides counting all their money?

They watch film of the game they just played so that they can figure out ways to improve. They study what went right and what went wrong. They do these things so that next time they don't make similar mistakes and improve their performance.

Someone please explain to me how this is bad practice when it comes to a war.

I'll wait...

A Movie Tag...

This is a movie tag a la Bunso. Since I like movies, I'll oblige...

Popcorn or Candy?
I actually think popcorn and candy are a little low-brow. I like to dine on Filet Mignon, Rice Pilaf, and a glass of Beaujolais. However, it's tough to sneak it in under my coat and balance on my lap.

Name a movie you've been meaning to see forever.
There are a bunch of classic films that I've yet to see. For instance, I've never seen "The Sound Of Music" or "Police Academy 5: Assignment: Miami Beach".

Steal one costume from a movie for your wardrobe.
I thought the costume worn by Morgan Spurlock in the film "Supersize Me" was really innovative.

Your favorite film franchise is:
The "Up Series", by Michael Apted is unmatched as far as duration and quality. If you haven't seen it, check it out.

Invite five movie people over for dinner. Who are they? Why'd you invite them? What do you feed them?
First, I'd be feeding them frozen motherfuckin' pizza, naturally. As far as who, hmmm. Albert Maysles has been one of my most influential documentarians and seems like a hell of a nice guy. I think Paul Newman is about as cool as a man can be. The rest would probably be women (to keep things even). Like Grant Miller, I think Charlize Theron is the cat's ass. Barbara Kopple is a documentarian I really admire. One more... OK, I guess Kelly Kapowski can come, too. It might be good for her. I think she was in a Pauly Shore film at one point, so she qualifies (barely).

What is the appropriate punishment for people who answer cell phones in the movie theater?
I believe in unconditional forgiveness. Go ahead, call me a pussy. I'll forgive that, too. Just watch me. I mean it!

Choose a female bodyguard:
My first choice would have been Wendie Jo Sperber, but she's dead, so I pick Tyne Daly.

What's the scariest thing you've ever seen in a movie?
Kevin Costner trying to do any accent other than his own.

Your favorite genre (excluding "comedy" and "drama") is...
Docufantasy. You haven't heard of it yet, but you will...

Fucking Classic...

I can't tell you how happy it makes me that Dubya, with all his imagined power and influence, still has to wear a muu-muu every once in a while.

I think he's telling his pal, Pooty-poot, "Dangit, didn't they have have any with pictures of little cowboys on 'em? If my oil buddies saw me in this shit, I'd be laughed out of the Cartel Club right quick!"

Road Trip Potpourri...

Rental car: Saturn Ion with a CD player.

Miles driven: 3,542

States visited: Indiana, Ohio, West Virginia, Regular Virginia, North Carolina, Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maine.

Weather: Varied, but nice for the most part. I was able to walk around Manhattan in just a sweater, which was pleasant.

Countries visited: Canada (Ontario)

Sights seen: A bunch of Amish people in a supermarket - Lagrange, IN. National Football Hall Of Fame (just the gift shop), Johnny Applecheese Market, the famed "Tiki Bar", and Wm. McKinley's gravesite - Canton, OH. Monticello, UVA campus, and my dad's girlfriend (not that she's a sight, but this is the first time I've met a girlfriend of my dad's, so it warranted mentioning) - Charlottesville, VA. Some bar in Charlotte NC that had $1 PBR's and $1 pizza slices. Big-ass war machines, The historic Page House Inn, and one of the best video rental places I've ever seen - Norfolk, VA. Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Times Square, Central Park, blah blah blah - NYC, NY. A bunch of pretty shit - Maine. Niagara Falls - New York/Ontario.

Random observations:
-People in Virginia don't understand the concept that the left lane is for passing (Sorry, Megan). Even in North Carolina, the four people I passed on the right all had Virginia plates.
-The best barbers are in the south.
-People in the south love waffles almost as much as people in the northeast love donuts.
-New York City cab drivers like to yell.
-People who blog are among the friendliest people out there.

I'm sure there's more I'll think of. I'll also answer questions if y'all have any...

Shovelling...

Whenever all the snow of Northern Michigan starts to get me down, I just imagine it's all mashed potatoes and the shovel is my spoon.

Actually, that's a lie. I don't like mashed potatoes. You'd be amazed how much this confounds people. Trust me, I don't like this quirk. Every normal person LOVES mashed potatoes. It's a bitch explaining it to people. In fact, I only like potatoes in fry or chip form. Go figure.

Beginning At The End: Some Guy Vs. Nature...

December 1, 2006 is a historic day for me. I completed the longest solo drive of my life. I was in Maine when I started hearing reports of a nasty winter storm hitting the midwest and that it was heading east. Not wanting to get stranded and knowing part of my trip would take me through Buffalo (a winter-weather death trap), I decided to start back a bit early. My plan was to drive until I was either too tired or conditions were too unsafe. Here's a play-by-play:

6:30 AM- Depart Boothbay Harbor, Maine. Conditions: Overcast, gusty and drizzly. Head south thru a tiny chunk of New Hampshire and into Massachusetts to link up with I-90. I am listening to a bunch of local talk radio. I reach New York state and stop for gas and food (a rest stop soft pretzel with day-glo orange cheeze dipping sauce, a Snickers Cruncher candy bar, and a bottle of Pink Lemonade Snapple. This will be the only food I consume during the trip.) By now I am listening to Rush Limbaugh, something I never do. He's so cute, isn't he, what with all his lying and bluster?

2:00 PM- I am about a half hour outside Buffalo when the sky turns pitch black, but no rain yet. Just beyond that, the sky lightened. That's when the buckets of rain started. I was praying no one was stopped in front of me, because I couldn't see jack shit. That lasted only a short while. The entire trip I fought a headwind of at least 30 MPH. I was nearing the point where I was to cross into Ontario to shorten my trip. The border crossing is right next to Niagara Falls. Part of me wanted to press on, but I knew I would kick myself if I was there and didn't stop to look at the fucking falls. So I did. Now, if any of you are planning a trip to Niagara and are wanting to avoid crowds, the beginning of December is opportune. I was the only dumb-ass there.

4:00 PM- I cross into Canada without incident. For some reason, I always feel more at ease when I'm in Canada. I am now listening to Canadian political talk radio, which is a trip. They're so damn polite to each other! No yelling or calling each other idiots. They were talking a lot about US politics, too, and had much better insight than most Americans. I make a bad turn and go a little out of my way, but I'm still awake and alert and have a sense that I might just make it all the way.

8:00 PM- Reach Sarnia and cross back into the US at Port Huron. I am now about 4 hours from home on a normal day. The weather is still OK. No rain, but still gusty.

10:00 PM- Reach West Branch, MI and notice cars ahead are slowing down. Ice. Two of my wheels are on road, two are on a sheet of ice. I find a car that is going what I consider a safe speed and keep pace with them (40 MPH). Snow starts around Grayling, MI. The last thing I want at this point is to end up in a ditch and have to wait for someone to pull me out.

12:30 PM- I reach Gaylord, MI where I get of the interstate. Snow is heavy now, but the roads are OK and must've been plowed recently. I could at least see tire ruts.

12:45 PM- Right by the entrance to Boyne Mountain where I ski patrol, from out of nowhere there are two large deer RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. The roads are snow-covered at this point and I had a split second to react. By some divine intervention I was able to thread the needle and missed the one on the right and bumped the one on the left without killing him. I can't find any damage. The rest of the trip I drove 25 MPH.

1:30 PM- I arrive home, wired as hell, and stay up for another two hours to unwind and give the cat some much needed attention. Total driving time, including stops=19 hours. I'm insane.

I'm Back, Bitches...

Prepare yourselves for a blogging torrent! That's pretty much all I'm gonna do today. You poor dears must be starving! I sure hope I didn't loose any of my faithful readers. Before I start, I'd like to give a "shout out" (god, I hate that phrase) to a few fellow bloggers. First, another thanks to Flannery Alden (and family) for their graciousness, french toast, and bacon. I'd also like to thank the most prolific blogger I know, Anne Altman (and friends), for the many laughs and ABBA tunes. If you haven't checked her shit out, do it now. I want to offer apologies to The Boob Lady for ruining her Christmas and to my Atlanta connection (sorry the dates didn't work out Beth & Marni!). Many thanks to Grant, Frank, and Echo for holding down the fort in my absence.

Shit, I know I'm forgetting someone important, but I can't think of who it is...

I'm Still Alive...

Just checking in. I'm sitting in a train depot in Mystic, CT, a cute little seaport (I believe where they filmed Mystic Pizza starring a young horse-faced Julia Roberts and Annabeth Gish). I'll wait until I get back to give all the nitty-gritty about my journey. Just a little correction. I did not hate TCBY as much as Frank. He's right about the lines of people, though. I believe at the time, it was the busiest TCBY in the country. I agree that Dick's was the BEST part-time job a guy could have. In fact, I kept the job even after I had found a real job in architecture because it was fun and an easy way to make some extra cash on weeknights. The shittiest job I shared with Frank was at Brookstone, the popular gadget store. He got me in there, then got the hell out when the management shifted towards a hard-sell approach. I was not as smart. Let's face it, Brookstone is a store men come in to kill time while their wives are at Nieman Marcus. It does not lend itself to the hard sell. I hate fucking retail and my heart goes out to those that do it day in, day out. I'll talk more soon. Sorry no picture...

The Best Things That Ever Happened to Chris and Me, Vol. II

Situation: Chris and I worked at Dick’s Phillips 66

Date: 1994-1996

The Story: The third and last job that Chris and I had together was at Dick’s Phillips 66, a local gas station in Elmhurst. I needed a second job, so my friend Dan got me a job at Dick’s. A few months later, Chris was looking for work, so I got him a job at Dick’s. Dick’s was great because you didn’t have to do much: you could watch TV, smoke cigarettes (smokes were $1.87 a pack), or anything else that you wanted (I use to play my guitar), and as long as you dropped the money in the safe, closed out the register, and turned off the pumps (a detail Chris forgot once or twice), it was gravy.

What was really eerie about the whole thing was that Clerks came out while we were working there, and people used to come in and call me Dante (notice any resemblance?). Our friend Dan got a ticket from the Elmhurst police for selling cigarettes to a 14 year old. Chris found a steaming pile of shit on the bathroom floor. I even remember smoking a funny, jazz cigarette in the back office while an Elmhurst cop was filling up at self-serve. It was awesome.

Unfortunately, Dick had the misfortune of losing Chris and I at roughly the same time. Chris left for his road trip, and I moved in to the city (not before I broke my patella in Dick’s icy parking lot; I was on workers comp for five weeks). He sold the gas station the month after I left. I think it was because he missed Chris and me so much…

The Best Things That Ever Happened to Chris and Me, Vol. I

Situation: We quit our shitty jobs at TCBY

Date: Summer/Fall 1988

The Story: During our sophomore years, Chris and I made the horrible, horrible mistake of getting jobs at TCBY. Chris started working there first, and then recruited my miserable ass to work there. It was awful: everyone in Elmhurst apparently NEEDED frozen yogurt all the time, because there would be a line of cars nearly a quarter-mile long waiting to visit the drive-thru EVERY FUCKING NIGHT! We were busy with drive-thru and walk-up business from the moment we got there (usually 4:00pm), and it wouldn’t relent until we closed at 10:00pm. What was worse was the fact that the franchise was so picky about keeping the place clean, that everyone had to stay nearly two hours past closing to clean, sweep, mop, and polish every goddamned inch of that place. The manager was a total douche-bag, his lackey supervisor was a brown-nosing cock-ass, and the owner’s wife looked like a ringwraith. We hated every moment we worked there.

One morning, the douche-bag manager called me at 6:30am and told me I needed to come in and unload a shipment of yogurt. I was supposed to be working part-time, enjoying my summer, and here I was working overtime at a yuppie 31 Flavors. The next time he called me at 6:30am, I told him to get bent. I never showed up again.

After I left, I got a job at Brookstone. A few months later, Chris quit his shitty job at TCBY and came to work with me.

Yes, I Actually Know Chris.

Whenever I meet people and tell them I know Chris, they always ask "What's he really like?"

And I always answer, "He's nice."

As is understandable, Chris generates a lot of controversy and is at the center of many urban legends. I hope to dispel some of the more fanciful ones here.

Is it true Chris lost both his kidneys to thieves?

Chris did not lose both his kidneys to thieves. This rumor started because Chris regularly sleeps in a tub of ice.

Is it true that Chris was the only real person ever depicted on a Pez dispenser?

No. The only real person ever depicted on a Pez dispenser was Betsy Ross. Oddly, Chris owns a cat named Betsy Ross.

Is it true Chris' real name is "Christopher?"

Yes. His real name is Christopher. He earned his street name, "Chris," in Boy Scouts.

Is it true that Chris is the founder of a Satanic cult in Michigan?

Chris is does not belong to a Satanic cult in Michigan.

Is it true that Chris was the model for the Gerber Baby?

No. Humphrey Bogart was the Gerber baby. Chris was the Morton's Salt girl.

What The Hell Are You Doing Reading Blogs On Thanksgiving?...

Today you should be focused on four things: football, Tryptophan, confronting long dormant family resentment, and beets.

But as long as you're here, I want to talk about what I'm thankful for this year: the wonderful people I've come to know through this blog. I never would've thought it possible to make friends entirely through the written word. You guys are the fucking best!

Hugs & Big, Slobbery Kisses Like The Ones Your Great-Aunt Ruth Is Gonna Lay On You Today,

Chris

Oh, The picture is for you, Flannery. Thanks again!

Memories Of Chris, Vol I

Echo here, everyone. Just crashing the party to share a story about Chris and I from our days as missionaries in Guatemala.

When Chris and I were nineteen, we decided to take a cross country trip - to become one with nature, to paddle the rivers of our discontent, and to drink Old Milwaukee. It was an uneasy ride fraught with teen angst and bewilderment at a world that was passing us by. Chris was unsure of the world around him. I was unsure of the phalanx of Japanese soldiers, all in their seventies and eighties, who were unaware that WWII was over, blocking our path to freedom.

When we reached Antigua, all hell broke loose. Sure, we had no business paddling out of the Des Plaines River into the Gulf of Mexico, and I'm guessing that neither of us was aware of our relative proximity to Japan in those days.

The first eighteen hours of our captivity were challenging, but then we never expected to have to compete against each other for immunity. The soldiers had erected an obstacle course with vast pits of Jell-O (filled with half naked men and women hell bent on stalling our forward progress) and a table filled with sticks of butter to be eaten before a victor would be crowned.

At stake, of course, was an immunity idol lovingly constructed out of spider monkey feces and play doh - for authenticity. We clubbed each other senseless. Bloody, battered, and broken by the anguish inflicted upon us by our captors, Chris begged me to negotiate with the terrorists for our freedom. I couldn't bring myself to do it. We would have to fight on!

Chris, of course, was more experienced in those days at Jell-O wrestling and eating butter than I, and so, naturally, he won. (You really should see him eat butter. He's like the fucking Kobayashi of the Competitive Dairy Fat Eating Community!)

Ultimately, I did negotiate with the terrorists and Chris received an incentive-laden, multi-year contract with the Yakult Swallows to be the team mascot. Chris is now in Japan, just north of Van Nuys, hoping to return home one day. I am still on the island trying to wiggle my way through the Jell-O wrestling section of the obstacle course. It's all so slippery. I'm thinking this could take a while. Thank gods for free wireless internet service!!!

That's my story and I'm sticking to it... Oh, and one other thing... Butter is not a good tanning agent. Somebody please send some Neo-sporin; the blisters are starting to hurt....

The Worst Things That Have Ever Happened to Chris, Vol. I

Situation:

Chris ate a stick of butter.

Date:

Summer 1986

The Story: Chris, Dave Boehm and I lived a few blocks from one another in Elmhurst. We met up almost every night between seventh and eight grades and watched baseball, talked about baseball or played our favorite game - Truth or Dare. It was really just "Dare" as only pansies took "Truth." Despite what you're thinking (wishing? You sick fuck!) nothing kinky ever happened. Typically, we just forced the boy who was "It" to eat something unpleasant. This included raw eggs, glasses of water topped with miscellaneous spices from my mom's spice rack, or ice cream mixed with mustard, ketchup and relish. One evening, Chris was It. Dave and I asked him to eat a stick of butter. It didn't matter that eating a stick of butter was unhealthy. It didn't matter that it was disgusting. It didn't even matter my mom would wonder why her butter was gone. Dave and I just wanted to see Chris eat it. He peeled back the foil and grimaced as he nibbled a corner. He protested, said he didn't want to play and it was a stupid game. Dave and I gave him shit. He continued to eat. A few minutes later, after he'd eaten about half the butter, Chris threw the stick on the ground and said he was done. Dave and I said "okay."

The day that Chris pulled the bug out of his ass…

It may be hard to believe, but when Chris was seventeen years old, he wasn’t the open-minded, politically-charged, socially-conscious codger he is today. In fact, if you told his friends in 1990 that by 2006 Chris would not only be politically-charged and socially-conscious, but would use such crass terms as cunt-ass peehole, we would have thought you were nuts.

Ferris Bueller made the following observation about his friend Cameron in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off:

Pardon my French but Cameron is so tight, that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you’d have a diamond!

Similar observations could be made about Chris. He was a good, upstanding, suburban Christian kid who didn’t want to get in to trouble and have his parents mad at him. It was actually quite respectable…if you were his grandmother!

That all changed one Friday evening in May of 1990. Chris was left to watch the homestead while his parents, brother, and sister went on vacation. A bunch of us were out at a party at a friend’s house, and we had started harping on Chris about having a party while his parents were out of town. During our senior year, a bunch of us had hosted parties while our parents were out of town, and we wanted Chris to do the same.

The conversation turned to what type of party Chris could host, and someone jokingly said Chris should host Jell-O wrestling. Chris immediately shot down the idea, but we all persisted. It took almost two hours to convince him, but Chris finally caved at about 10:00pm. We immediately left the party, went to various supermarkets in Elmhurst, and purchased as much Jell-O as we could carry. From there we went to Andy’s house and started making a lot of Jell-O. At the end of the night, each of us took several Tupperware containers of Jell-O home to store in our refrigerators.

The next day, we went to Chris’s house to prepare. Chris’s parents had just remodeled the basement, and Chris didn’t want to get anything sticky, so we had to cover his bedroom in Hefty bags. We also had to cover all the windows, so none of the neighbors could look in on what we were doing. We used the remainder of the Jell-O to make Jell-O shots. Guido went out and bought a kiddy pool. We called girls on the phone and gauged their interest in participating on the fight card for the evening. We called our friend Brian and made sure he was bringing his video camera.

That night, Chris hosted the party. We ran it like a WWF event. We interviewed all of the participants and their managers. Our friend Geoff was the ringside announcer. Our friend Garth beat his girlfriend Stephanie in the first match. Guido beat his girlfriend Tracey in the second match. Andy and I beat Christie and Jennifer in a tag-team match, and won the coveted Jell-O belt. People had sex in Chris’s shower. There was Jell-o dripping from the ceiling. Guido (clad in nothing but his skivvies) slipped on the Hefty bags and hit the ground with a thud. It was great.

As I was helping Chris mop up after the party, I remembered thinking that he was a pretty cool guy when he let his hair down. Luckily for all of us, Chris began letting his hair down a lot more in the ensuing years, and became the open-minded, politically-charged, socially-conscious codger I spoke of at the beginning of this post.

On a personal note, I was the steward of the Jell-O wrestling video tape for the last sixteen years. My plan was to transfer the tape to my computer, put the clips up on YouTube, and show you it in its entirety over the next week. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost this little slice of Chris history, and cannot provide a visual account of the event. Just picture a bunch of seventeen and eighteen year olds drenched in Jell-O and you can get a general idea of how the evening turned out.

In the Dark, Dark Forest.

I've never been to Chris' Michigan home. I'm scared to.

I rely upon stories and pictures to imagine what Chris' life is like in Northern Michigan. My imagination fills the gaps when needed. This is where it gets dangerous.

I don't know for certain, but I believe Chris lives in a forest. I assume blood-thirsty bears attack his door on Halloween instead of trick-or-treaters. I wouldn't be surprised if his neighbor looks like Ted Kaczynski. I imagine Chris wakes every morning, goes outside nude, shovels up a pan of snow and boils it for his shower.

None of this is probably true, but it'd be hard to convince me otherwise.

Unlike Chris, I'm terrified of nature. I feel queasy if the air I breath lacks diesel fumes. My feet throb if I spend more than 10 minutes walking on anything other than pavement. I begin to predict doomsday when I see too many stars in the night sky. And I'm such a Midwesterner, I suffer high altitude cerebral edema when I drive over a hill taller than 100 feet. And Canadians simply scare the shit out of me.

I could never survive Chris' frontier life in Northern Michigan.

What perplexes me is we grew up in Elmhurst, Illinois, four blocks from one another and lived pretty similar childhoods. How can he rough-it while I get upset if my hotel lacks organic conditioner?

Elmhurst is just outside Chicago. We both spent countless days and nights cruising suburban mini-malls and Chicago neighborhoods. That's our native environment - urban, suburban wilderness - Outback Steakhouse and Gander Mountain, oh my.

But somewhere along the way we split. Chris is at home in the remote wilderness. He enjoys the sound of crickets and wolves howling. He's not paralyzed with fear that the Michigan militia will take him away in the middle of the night.

Chris has traveled extensively. But I have too. But when I was drinking hurricanes on Bourbon Street, Chris was building homes in the Third World. While I reserved rooms at bed-and-breakfasts throughout England, Chris toured North America and slept in motel parking lots.

Does this mean that despite our similar upbringing and travels, Chris is just more worldly than me? Or am I just a pussy?

Some Guy Quiz

So, you like Some Guy’s Blog...but do you really know Some Guy? Pass this quiz and you’ll know everything you need to know!

1. Which of the following actually happened to Some Guy?

a. Was beaten up by a Branch Davidian while visiting Waco, Texas
b. Threw up in a Taco Bell bag while driving his Honda Civic
c. Was Grant Miller’s understudy in the York High School production of Star Wars
d. All of the above
e. None of the above

2. Which of the following is an authentic Some Guy quote?

a. “I don’t even like salt water”
b. “I speak Spanish…Sí”
c. “I’m kind of like a girl”
d. All of the above
e. None of the above

3. Which of the following happened at Some Guy’s high school graduation party?

a. Was pinned by his younger sister in a wrestling match
b. Was accosted by a ‘Rent-a-Nerd’
c. Was given a key to the City of Elmhurst by Mayor Abner Ganet
d. All of the above
e. None of the above

4. What is the name of Some Guy’s Cat?

a. Kitty
b. Mario Van Peebles
c. The Ass-Man
d. Some Guy’s Cat

5. Which pop-culture icon visited Some Guy in his youth?

a. Twinkie the Kid
b. Mayor McCheese
c. The Kool-Aid Man
d. All of the above
e. None of the above

6. Who did Some Guy call a, “Cunt-Ass Pee-Hole”?

a. George W. Bush
b. Ann Coulter
c. Bill O’Reilly
d. All of the above
e. None of the above

7. In which country did Some Guy help build houses for the poor?

a. China
b. Russia
c. South Africa
d. Brazil
e. Ghana

8. What show does Some Guy watch before going to work every morning?

a. Saved by the Bell
b. Mass for Shut-Ins
c. Fox & Friends
d. All of the above
e. None of the above

9. Some Guy was photographed as a toddler with what on his head?

a. A sombrero
b. A steaming pile of dog-doo
c. A bird
d. A traditional Native American head-dress

10. By what popular nickname is Some Guy also known?

a. The Hypercolor Kid
b. Red Scampi
c. Uncle Grundles
d. Monkey Balls
e. Sir Lumpy of Chorkworth

Answers posted Monday.

1-3 correct answers: You don’t know Some Guy!
4-6 correct answers: Some Guy is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there
7-9 correct answers: You have an unhealthy infatuation with Some Guy
10 correct answers: Are you Some Guy’s mom?

We've Taken Over.

Dear Readers,

Frank Sirmarco and I have hijacked Some Guy's Blog. Over the next two weeks we will expose Chris and spew our extreme political agenda.

Please feel free to leave any comments or suggestions below!

Have a great day!

Sincerely,
Grant Miller, Esq.








Tags: Hijacking, Extreme Political Views

Redemption? You Be The Judge...

At a young age, Jimmy exhibited his nose-picking prowess. Here we see him pulling off the often emulated, but rarely executed "Double Proboscis Plunge", all the while maintaining that trademark Hollywood smile. Bravo, young Jimmy, bravo!

I'm Fucked...

I'm really in deep doo-doo.

Here you are, expecting a humorous pick-me-up to start your day, and you come here to find...

Nothing.

I'm sorry.

My normal routine is to generate a few ideas for possible posts on my way into work each day. Typically there's no problem. There's usually something that pops into my head or else some bonehead politician has said something asinine the day before. While I'm sure there was something stupid said yesterday, I wasn't paying good attention. I'm preoccupied with making sure everything's in order before I leave and tending to a printer malfunction at a most inopportune time.

So now I'm stuck. I'm looking around my office trying to create comedy from nothing. Hmm, a Sharpie. Is there anything funny about that? No. Here's a feet & inches calculator. Nothing funny there. How about the latest copy of the Michigan Building Code. Absolutely not. Arrggh!

I'll understand if you never visit my blog again...

Just So You Can Mentally Prepare...

I'm leaving Friday for a two-week vacation. During this time, my pals Frank and Grant Miller will be guest-posting. We may also hear from the mighty Echo at some point. Grant assures me he has some good adolescent dirt on me (probably to make up for what I did on his blog while HE was away.) Frank has mentioned the possibility of sharing some video of the Jello Wrestling Party I threw in high school, but you're gonna have to be REALLY good to see that. I may pop in from time to time from whatever remote location I may be in, but it will be sporadic at best. At any rate, I just thought I should give a heads up so that you can get all your sobbing and lamenting out of the way now.

Paul Mooney...

Any of you who are fans of Chappelle's Show know who Paul Mooney is (Ask A Black Dude). Here is a short clip I saw last night that cracked me up.