Jig says...

SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY!

2007-01-18T15:41:00.001-06:00

For whatever reason, I haven't written about football in a long time (Hell, I haven't written anything in a long time, but that is beside the point). However, this coming Sunday has the potential to be one of those great days that I can look back at and fondly tell my nieces and nephews about (notice I made no mention about me having kids... NO BABIES!). At the same time, Sunday could be the second-worst day of football-related pisstivity in my 23 years on this Earth. I will explain...

On Sunday (Sunday! Sunday! in the monster truck announcer voice), my two favorite football teams (the Ponies and the Saints) take on the two teams that I hate the most in the NFL (the Patriots and the Bears). My love for the Ponies is self-evident. They play in Indianapolis. I am from Indiana. Plus, they tend to play in real-life like I do in Madden: pass so much that you can actually hear the QB's rotator cuff tearing after each throw from overexersion. Also, it is fun to have Peyton, the most-recognizable player in the league (thanks to so many TV ads that even Jim Carrey in 'The Truman Show' was less exposed), as well as one of the best QBs of all-time (in the regular season).

As for the Saints, I have to admit that I hadn't really been a fan of them until this season. I know what you're thinking... "Ok Bandwagon Jig, now you decide to root for 'America's Team.' How convenient you like them now that they are good for the first time in 40 years!" First off, eat a dick. I hate, hate, haaaaate bandwagon fans (I will get to them in a minute) and I never want to be things that I hate. It just so happened that the Saints signed my favorite player in the off-season, fellow Purdue grad Drew Brees. When he was on the Chargers, guess who I rooted for? Thaaat's right... the Chargers. Now that Drew is gone, they and their lightening bolt logo can go to hell.

Now the hate shall arise. Simply put, I just hate the fuckin' Pats. I hate that pretty-boy-son-of-a-bitch Tom Brady. He seems like a pussy but always wins (now that I think about it, maybe he seems like a pussy because his last name is 'Brady.' Don't you think that if his surname was 'Bauer' or 'Blackstrong' or 'Bigcock' people would think differently?). Unfortunately, I am filled with hate for no other reason than that they always, always beat the Ponies when it counts. Every. Single. Time.

As for the Bears... well, that is where the Bandwagon Bitches come into play. I'll take you back to my Freshman year at Purdue, when Chicago had a fluke season and won like 13 games (seriously, it was so fuckin' flukey that some douchebag named Mike Brown had a defensive touchdown in like every other game. Oh, and their QB was Jim Miller. Mike Brown and Jim Miller? Don't they sound like plumbers? In fact, I think Jim Miller came to my apartment yesterday to work on my water heater). Anyway, since Purdue is relatively close to Chicago (and they were a surprise team) then EVERYBODY on campus suddenly became Bears fans. Here is a typical conversation I might have had with a Bandwagon Bitch during that time:
B.B.: "Wooooooo! Go Bears! Wooooooo!"
Me: "Bears fan, huh? How long have you liked them?"
B.B.: "Aw, my whole fuckin' life, man!"
Me: "Really... isn't that a Dallas Cowboys star tattoo on your arm?"
B.B.: "Uhh... no... it's, uh... just... pretty. My mom likes stars."
As you can see, I hate this shit. Surprisingly, as the Bears struggled the next few years, their "whole fuckin' life" fans kind of disappeared... until now. Really, I guess I don't have a problem with the Bears as a team (in fact, I love Grossman. If his situation were a movie, would you even believe it? You know, that a QB can be either pretty good or so God-awful that you know real Bear fans are praying that he slips in the shower or burns is foot on a George Foreman grill? Well let me rephrase that, I love Terrible Rex... couldn't we call that version T-Rex?). However, I hate their "fans" so much that it reflects on their team. Seriously, between the Cubs, White Sox and Bears, Chicago fans are the worst. However, they do have great leaping skills, as they are the best at jumping on bandwagons.

Ok, enough of my praises and bitchings, on to the game predictions...

Saints vs. Bears in "The Bandwagon Bowl"

-Every part of me wants the Saints to win this. Not just 'cuz I love 'em, but for the city of New Orleans as well. And before the season, who would have thought this was even possible? Anyway, I think the Saints O is too good... unfortunately, I don't get the NFL DirecTV package, so I didn't get to see them play as much as I would have liked (unless the Rams or Bears had a bye week... fuckin' Illinois). Thus, I don't really know why they sometimes sucked offensively against teams that weren't that good (Pittsburgh, Washington, etc.). I'm thinking 20-32, 290 and two TDs for my man Drew. As for Grossman, he had a good week against Seattle, so it is definitely T-Rex time, baby! He will be flustered as hell after his second first-half pick. If it weren't for Hester being so damn ridiculous at returning kicks, the Bears would have no weapons at all, as their defense went from "Holy shit, should we just take a knee everytime we get the ball cuz those guys look 'roided up?" to "Ehh... they're ok" over the course of the season. I like the Saints, but not hugely because the weather will be the equivalent to playing football in the freezer section. Plus, Drew was on the cover of Sports Illustrated this week, thus cursing them and could single-handedly kill the team. Final: Saints 27-20

Colts vs. Pats in the "Lose To New England Again You Will Officially Be Owned By Them To The Point That They Will Actually Brand You After The Game" Bowl

-The elongated title says it all. If the Ponies lose to them again, they will never, NEVER recover. That will be it for Peyton. He will be mentally destroyed quicker than the old jap at the end of 'Oldboy' (hey, now there's a reference that exactly none of you will get!). As much as I thought that last year was their year from a talent standpoint, this is their time from a must-win-NOW perspective.
Last year there was no reason they should have lost... no one should have come close. It was last year's Ponies team that killed me. I was absolutely crushed when they were upset... I had kind of forgotten that until reread the blog I wrote about that game last year. Regardless, I haven't enjoyed the Ponies with the same enthusiasm since. Nor do I think I ever will. It was almost like being in love, getting engaged, standing at the alter on the Big Day, only to have your almost-spouse come halfway down the aisle, stop and stare at you right in the eyes and suddenly sprint out the door with no explanation as to what went wrong. Now tell me, if she was without question the one you were meant to be with, could you truly trust anyone else again? Probably not.
With that said, that is why I am picking the Ponies to win. Peyton has to win. HAS TO WIN. For his career, for his legacy, for the city, for his team. He cannot lose. Naturally, he is against the Pats, the one team that he continually chokes against. The team that owns him. The team that will forever be in his head if he loses to again. The Pats are the Pats. Always clutch and very well-coached. Peyton can't throw more than one pick... he can't choke. Especially at home.
Funny enough, when I wrote that blog about the Ponies' playoff game, I wrote something like, "Peyton chokes everytime. I will never bet on him again." Well, ordinarily I would listen to myself. However, I think they will win because he has to win. Plus, we have King Vinny kicking this year rather Douchebag Mike. He should give us the 3 point cushion we will win by (however, isn't part of you still a little weary of him? You know that he is a Pat at heart. Come on, he won three Super Bowls there. He is a genuine hero and surely never has to pay for a meal in the Boston-area for the rest of his life. Are you telling me that isn't in his head just a little bit? Think about it, he missed two field goals this season in their earlier game against New England... coincidence? I hope so.).
Final: Ponies 27-24

As The Balls Change...

2006-11-01T13:13:00.000-06:00

Thank God the NBA is back. I have needed it. After all, my sportsworld has looked like this recently:

-My Reds had the Wild Card lead for a good portion of the year and even tied the Cards for the division lead with like a month to go. Then what happened? Griffey got hurt for like the 18th time in five seasons (at this point, even hemophiliacs are calling him a pussy), Fat Dunn struck out more than Screech did with Lisa Turtle and no one but Aaron Heeerike(!) and CharlesBronson Arroyo could pitch. The Cards then went from "Team that doesn't deserve to be in the playoffs let alone win a division" to "World Series Champion." How the hell did that happen? I hate the Cards. Let's just leave it at that.

-The Illini football team has a.) won two games b.) lost at home to Ohio (not State, but that loss is coming soon enough) and to Indiana (who had six blind players suit up I do believe) c.) only ONE shot of winning another game, which is against...

-My Purdue football team that really sucks evidently. I leave and they go to shit? How does that happen? Didn't Painter throw for like 500 yards a month ago? Now they get shut out by Penn State and are now the team that the Illinois Sucks look at the schedule and say, "You know, we might get this one." AAAHHH!

Ok, on to the NBA, which I have been waiting for like Nick waited for Jessica before they got married (which in hindsight, he kinda got fucked didn't he? He was in his boy band prime not getting any boy band ass, waiting for that day that he would finally give Jessica that ring and then get on it. However, it only lasted like three years. Do you think he has been making up for lost time post-divorce? And I mean MAKING UP FOR LOST TIME, like menaging after he menages. Wouldn't be surprised.). Anyway, the following is Jig's Second Annual NBA Preview. I will go from "Teams that just like it when they are mentioned as 'professional'" at the bottom to the eventual champions.

Eastern Conference
(the sucks)
15. Atlanta Hawks: Hotlanta is now the home of the NBA's ugliest player, Shelden Williams! Congratulations! At least you won something!
14. Toronto Raptors: Funny... they had the number one pick and took an Italian guy. I was in Italy this summer and didn't hear ONE person talk about him with any homeland enthusiasm. Then again, I didn't know what the hell anyone was saying.
13. Charlotte Bobcats: Does anyone else think that the 'Bobcat' is like the gayest member of the cat kingdom? They gotta do something about that name. Oh yeah, and the team sucks, too.
12. New York Knicks: I seriously love this team. I kinda want to get a Knicks shirt, but only in the same kind of way that I wanted to get "On Deadly Ground" on DVD. You know, sometimes it's so bad it is good.
11. Philly 76ers: I have always loved A.I. And cheesesteaks. That's all that I have positive to say.
10. Boston Celtics: Paul 'The Buttpump' Pierce is pretty much all they got. Unless you count their new PG Sebastian Telfair. However, never trust a man named Sebastian with anything except for maybe serving oysters at a dinner party.
9. Orlando Magic: As with last year, the over/under on Grant Hill's season: 35 games. Also, does he wear Fila anymore? Does Fila even exist? Did Hill's bum ankle not only kill his career but also single-handedly close a fuckin' shoe company?(Playoff teams and up)
8. Indiana Pacers: So does their locker room have some sorta "Crazy Spirit Ghost" there? I mean, CARA (Crazy Assed Ron Artest in case you forgot) is traded to Sac-Town, so the problem is expected to be gone, right? NOPE! Thank God for Stephen Jackson, the new crazy face of the Indiana Pacers! That should be their marketing campaign actually: "Come to Conseco Fieldhouse! You never know what Stevie Jackson is gonna do! In fact, just for calling him 'Stevie', he is lookin' at me like I got a lapdance from his favorite stripper before he did... uh oh! Indiana basketball, it's Pacer-tastic!"
7. Milwaukee Bucks: You think Charlie Villanueva gets a lotta shit from other players because he has no hair? I mean, the muhfucka has NO HAIR! NOT EVEN EYEBROWS! Do you think he is last in the league in "showers taken in the team locker room"? Shouldn't we have this statistic?
6. Washington Wizards: I still love my NigGil.
5. Cleveland Cavs: I understand, LeBron is a pimp. But is anyone else already sick of him? Hell, and it's only his fourth year! The NBA needs to chill with trying to make Bron into the next Jordan, when in reality, he is just the first LeBron. Isn't that good enough? Jordan is never coming back. Fuck, he has already done that twice, and three times would just be pathetic. Regardless, just let him play and let the fat ones subside for a minute.
4. Detroit Pistons: With the NBA passing the new "Rasheed Wallace Rule" (in which players can't bitch about foul calls or they will get teched on the spot), how do you think Rasheed Wallace feels about that? Is he honored that there is a rule named after him? Or is he really pissed? Wouldn't it really suck if he was pissed, but couldn't say anything about it because he would get teched?
3. Miami Heat: D-Wade is great, but not THAT great. The Finals refs elevated him from an A- to a A+++. Can I get some ref help for some of my research papers? Could they take me from a B to an A- at least? Do ya think David Stern could help me out with that?
2. Chicago Bulls: They got Cornrow Wallace and a helluva lotta D. However, their only real scorers are named Kirk and Ben. Kirk and Ben? Are you kiddin me? Don't they kinda sound like the lead characters of a Pixar movie about mice?
1. New Jersey Nets: I hate the Nets, but Bitch Carter is in a contract year, so expect him to actually play this season. At least Hov will be happy. YEP!

Western Conference

(the sucks)
15. Portland Blazers: I am pissed that they have lost most of their players that would sporadically have to go to jail. You know, their weedheads, their gun runners and their guys that hold bulldog fights in their house. Those were fun times. I guess it is the Pacers turn to take over that role.
14. Seattle Sonics: I never understood why they have Chewbacca as their mascot.
13. New Orleans Hornets: Chris Paul is a pimp. But doesn't his name kinda sound like a rushed introduction? You know, "Chris, Paul. (Acknowledging head knod) Paul, Chris"
12. Golden State Warriors: To hell with them, I had them in the playoffs last year.
11. Minnesota T-Wolves: I love that KG is stuck with a bunch of bitches and can't ever make the playoffs. I love this because he had a semi-rivalry with my Nigga Tim. Pretty much anyone that tries to mess with my boys I automatically hate. That is, unless they become a Spur. See: Horry, Robert.
10. Memphis Grizzlies: At first, I accidently typed in "Grillzies." Are Grillzies the gangsta shit that you would put on baby teeth? Will Flava Flav buy a shitload of Grillzies for his grandkids? Can I trademark that name right now?
9. Utah Jazz: Otherwise known as the Illinois Fighting Illini.
8. L.A. Lakers: I still hate Kobe (not as much as Shaq, but still). His 81 pissed me off (the previous recent high was my man David Robinson's 71). And I do think that "The Mongoose" in the NBA The Life videogame ads would whip his ass if they were allowed to drink a bottle of whiskey beforehand.
7. Sac Kings: A full season for CARA? We shall see... do you think that he will get jealous if Stevie Jackson takes over as "Crazy Bastard" of the NBA? Do you think that he will try to top Jack's fight outside of a titty bar by starting fights outside of a Hooters?
6. Houston Rockets: Is it sad that when the story broke last week that Dikembe Mutombo yelled at a heckler in the stands that called him a "monkey", I wasn't thinking, "Oh what a horrible thing to say!", but rather, "Dikembe Mutombo is still in the NBA?"
5. Denver Nugs: I think that Carmelo might just be the second ugliest player in the league. Does anyone else think that he kinda looks like a lesbian?
4. L.A. Clippers: Did I just put the Clippers at number four? The times, they are a changin'.
3. Dallas Mavs: To be fair, they did get cheated by the refs in the Finals. But, to be fair, they cheated the hell outta the Spurs in the second round.
2. San Antonio Spurs: Last year, Nigga Tim had the running capabilities of Verbal Kint. However, now he is healthy. And more importantly, he... is... pissed. My life would be officially made if, after slammin' it on Shaq, he grabbed his crotch (while still hanging on the rim), came down and screamed, "I am Nigga Tim, bitches!" However, I'm not holding my breath.
1. Phoenix Suns: They take this spot because of the rule changes. Essentially, if you drive to the basket at all, you will be taking foul shots (proof? see Wade, Dwayne during NBA Finals, 2006). Small ball is gonna win it all (and I didn't intend to rhyme whatsoever.)

PLAYOFFS
First/Second Rounds/Conference Championship
Eastern
Nets over Pacers in 5.
Bulls over Bucks in 5.
Heat over Wiz in 6.
Cavs over Pistons in 7.

Nets over Cavs in 6.
Bulls over Heat in 6.

Nets over Bulls in 7.

Western
Suns over Lakers in 6.
Spurs over Kings in 5.
Mavs over Rockers in 7.
Clips over Nugs in 6.

Suns over Clips in 6.
Spurs over Mavs in 7.

Suns over Spurs in 7.

NBA FINALS

Suns over Nets in 6: As I mentioned, the run-and-gun that Stern has a sudden fat one over will prevail. Unfortunately, it will probably remain this way for a couple of years. The Suns will take it EASILY if Amare "Black Jesus" Stoudemire is back to "Scary Ass" Amare from the '05 playoffs. If he isn't they will win anyway. Defense doesn't matter anymore, as fouling will become seemingly fashionable. Congrats Steve Nash, you cut your hair but won the trophy.

The Beer Club

2006-10-16T13:25:00.000-05:00

I forgot to post this earlier, but here is an article that I wrote a couple of weeks ago for the Buzz (an Arts & Entertainment magazine that comes out every Thursday for the Daily Illini... in my opinion, the Buzz is the best part of the U of I's school paper). Some of you have already pumped it, but I thought I would throw it on here anyway...

Typically, the phrase "Beer Club" forces one to envision a beer-pong party where Keystone Lights disappear by the case and drinkers who disperse at the end of the event become prime candidates for a public intox ticket.

However, this is not always true. Case in point: the Champaign-Urbana Beer Club. With a motto like "A club for the discerning beer lover," one might think that aficionados of high-grade ales such as Old Style or PBR are not welcome. But the Beer Club is welcoming enough.

The Beer Club was created in December 2003 by former University of Illinois professor Edward Snyder. Three years ago, Snyder was attending a beer tasting at a Piccadilly liquor store in Champaign. Suddenly, it hit him: "Why not have a beer tasting of my own?" That day, he had fifteen fellow beer-appreciators sign up for his club. Snyder then began hosting the tastings in his home until the seat capacity became overloaded. Luckily for Snyder and his group, the Urbana bar Crane Alley allowed the Beer Club to hold its meetings privately on the second floor.

The Beer Club meets at Crane Alley every third Wednesday at 6 p.m. for a warm, intimate, family-like dinner, and the beer tasting begins at about 7:30 p.m. It is then that the specialty beer bottles are removed from their coolers and are lined up. The tiny pilsner glasses are brought out of hiding from behind the bar and the group salivates over what seems like the greatest alcoholic discovery of the 21st century.

Beer samples are provided by the members to share, and members are encouraged to supply two or three beers for the meeting's theme. Different themes have included "Stouts and chocolates" for Valentine's Day, because nothing says "I love you, honey!" like heavy beer and truffles, and "Beers that go with spicy food," where hot sauces were sampled alongside the beers. One sauce was so spicy that a toothpick-width dot of it caused a club member to miss work the next day.

The theme of September's meeting was "Good beers under $1.99 each." Honestly, could I, a debt-ridden, beer-drinking college student, have attended a more perfect night?

Don't fool yourself; "under $1.99" doesn't mean typical bar libations like Budweiser, Miller or Coors. The "BMC three" doesn't get much respect around these beer connoisseurs. Snyder says that the BMC "is just not beer."

Instead, the fifteen different beer examples that were brought to the meeting included Bridgeport Stout, Bitter Woman IPA, Titan IPA, Out of Bounds Stout and Shipyard Pumpkin Ale. However, my favorite beer name was brought to the meeting by the Delantys, a sweet, 50-ish hops-appreciating couple who have taken a few recent road trips around the nation in search of the great, unknown beer. The unveiling went something like this:

"Tyler, we've got one for you to try," said Tom Delanty.

"Oh, yeah? Well, I'll try about any beer," I replied.

"Really," Tom said, a smile developing on his face. "Any?"

He pulled "Horse Piss Beer" from a brown paper bag. Naturally, it was from Kentucky and had a picture of a horse on the label. Despite the laughter that the name drew, the members didn't have high hopes for the beer's taste. However, I did.

Once the tasting started, each attendee received a tiny pilsner glass and filled it with about two ounces of beer. But rather than knocking back the sample, the club members have their own way of appreciating the suds: they treat beer like wine.

According to Snyder, there are many factors that go into tasting beer that the typical drinker doesn't understand. A drinker should swirl the beer to appreciate its color, sniff the sample to take in its true scent and slowly sip the beverage to carefully discern the flavors involved. Snyder feels that to truly experience beer, the tasting process should be every bit as thorough as wine sampling.

Snyder has sampled over 1,550 beers in three years and has also given the third most ratings in Illinois on the Web site ratebeer.com under the moniker "Your Dark Lord." He chose the name "Dark Lord" as a respectful tribute to his favorite beer, the Three Floyds' Dark Lord, and not for the reason that, with his black attire, graying beard and hidden tattoos he slightly resembles a Dark Lord. But the nickname has stuck among his fellow Beer Club-goers.

Despite the "Dark Lord's" enthusiasm for beer, the alcohol itself is not the reason he started the club. He says, "The beer is secondary, it is all about the people ... I love these guys."

At the end of my time with the Beer Club, it was time to choose a winner out of the sampled beers. Despite my reservations, the resounding winner was the Titan IPA. Unfortunately, despite my appreciation, Horse Piss Beer wasn't exactly received well. The Dark Lord himself summed up the Horse Piss by saying, "If offered again, I'd say nay."

Random Thoughts I Had While Wishing I Knew Someone In The Mafia...

2006-10-09T12:51:00.000-05:00

I know... it has been a long time. I'll try to make it up to ya...

So I am finally totally caught up with 'Grey's Anatomy.' It only took two weeks of rapid-fire Netflixing in order to prepare for the preiminent season premiere (attempting to pump a whole season in limited time is waaaay more difficult than it seems. Even Jack Bauer screams "Damnit!" at the thought. Seriously, you start thinking to yourself things like, "Hmmm... only have 45 minutes before class... should I take a shower and brush my teeth or watch episode 14? Fire up the DVD player! We only got four days left 'til ABC Thursday!").
Now that I've got 'em all under my belt, I will share a few observations about the show:
-I fuckin' HATE Meredith. I mean HATE. Tell me, what is good about her? Does she have any positive characteristics? First off (as I have mentioned before), she is unbelievably overrated in the looks department. I would even go so far as to say that she is the least attractive chick on the show (well... except for Bailey. Can't forget Bailey). In the first season it seemed like she had her moments in which she was pretty cute... and then the camera would cut to her conversational partner and then back to her and it would magically look like she got hit in the face with a pipe or something. Now it is so bad that if I saw her on HDTV, I would probably be accused of being bulimic I would be puking so much. Is the show just trying to really emphasize that the interns (i.e. Meredith) are exhausted and thus reflects on their face? If so, kudos for realism, if not (and I think not), get better lighting. And more makeup.
Ok, so Meredith isn't the healthiest-lookin' girl in the world... it's perfectly acceptable as long as she has a wonderful personality, right? Right? EEERRR! (or however you spell that "Wrong!" buzzer noise) Does she even have a personality? Can you think of one, one thing she has said that was funny? Oh no... instead, all she does is bitch about all her problems. Hell, everyone has problems, bitch! Get over yourself! For whatever reason, she expects all her "friends" to cater to her without her recipricating. Why is this? She never asks these people about their problems... it's ALL about Meredith. (Seriously, watch the next episode and take a shot for each comforting question she asks anyone. You will be stone cold sober, I promise) I mean, what the hell does McDreamy (and yes, I realize how gay I sound actually typing out "McDreamy." I will now join the Clay Aiken fan club) and Chris O'Donnell see in her? How can they fall for someone that is "damaged" on top of uninteresting? Couldn't she at least be the fun kind of damaged? You know, the kind that found daddy's cocaine stash as a kid and put it on her waffles thinking it was powdered sugar? Or, as a rebellious teen, pumped Nirvana's sound guy in an electrical van just to get a backstage pass?
And speaking of pumpin'... good Lord, what a skank! How many dudes did she fuck between McDreamy bangings? (and I don't even count George. I don't think crying during a 10 second session counts) What kind of doctor finishes her day, goes to the nearest bar, gets pounded and does whatever guy is around? Would you be comfortable with this if you were her patient? Could you potentially become exposed to her dirty-pooty disease if she was your doctor? Stay away from the bitch!
-As much as I dislike Meredith, I really like George. He's my favorite character. Something I appreciate about him is his evolution: he went from "Nerdy-Nervous-Stuttery-Guy-That-Is-Painfully-Hard-To-Watch-To-The-Point-Of-Having-Breathing-Problems-Just-Watching-Him-Talk" to "Reliable-Growing-Confidence-By-The-Day-Guy-That-Is-Kinda-Getting-Girls-And-Being-Funny". So long as his self-esteem rises each episode (as it has), we are all good.
-I am up in the air about Izzie. For whatever reason, she is the one that gets the "Overdramatic or Just Idiotic Act" status. Examples follow...
1.) The episode that she keeps gettin' raped about being a model/doctor. How does she finally put all the jokes to rest? By dramatically stripping off her clothes and saying something gay like, "You wanna see it! Look at me! Here it is!" Seriously... who does that? Even drama queens wouldn't pull that shit. Granted, I am not one to bitch when clothes are taken off, but comethehellon.
2.) She had sex with Alex. Many times. Whom she knowingly, knowingly, had syphilis. To repeat, that was Alex the Prick who had syphilis that she had sex with. Many times.
3.) I won't get into it very hardcore (for fear of being murdered by any woman who watches the show, and yes, there are millions of them), but I wasn't really feeling the Izzie-Denny romance. He was in a bed. She was the doctor. He said all his words in a badass, whispery voice (which I am convinced is what drew her to him). She held his chart. He was damn near 40 and looked kinda like my dentist. She was a late 20-ish model/doctor. If you added up all of their scenes together in which just the two of them talked/flirted, how long would that have been? 10 minutes? 15, maybe? And they were in love? They were going to get married? I don't buy it. Even by TV standards. Expect her to start pumpin Alex the Prick again. Evidently, syphilis is tasty...

Has anyone actually won a game of Tic-Tac-Toe since they were like eight years old? Seriously, post-teen years, have you ever beaten anyone that was in your age bracket? Doesn't it always come out as a tie? Occasionally, if I am bored in class, I might play against a friend who is sitting next to me, and it is always something like this: X mid right, O bottom left, X mid middle, O left middle, X top left, 0 bottom left, X mid bottom, O mid top and X top right. NO ONE EVER WINS! Didn't everyone as a kid know someone (usually an adult, which is kinda creepy now that I think about it) that had that "secret trick" that won every single time? Is that an urban legend? Is it possible? Or is this solely a game that can only be won or lost when you believe in Santa Claus? When you find out that Santa is actually your parents, do you automatically become better at the game, to the point that you can easily beat those who still believe in Santa, but always tie those that know the truth? Can we get some scientists on this, please?...

I can tell you one group of people who are really fuckin' happy that summer is over: Goths. Isn't summer like Hell for Goths? (Actually, do Goths want to go to Hell? Is Hell actually their Heaven? Would they be pissed if they went to Heaven?) So I'll rephrase: isn't summer like Heaven for Goths? Think about it... they have a fat one for wearing all black and looking as pale as a Croatian hermit. Thus, wouldn't it totally blow to be hot all the fuckin' time? I have accidentally worn a black shirt on a summer day and was so pissed that I hit myself in the crotch 14 times in a row with a loaf of French bread (don't worry, it was stale so it still hurt). I can't imagine pumpin' black everyday then. Goths would have to lose about 25 pounds just from sweat alone. Also, wouldn't the sun potentially give Goths a hint of a tan? Isn't this sacrilege in the Goth culture? Are you called a "wannabe tanning pretty boy" if you are a Goth and your face is slightly darker than a sheet of paper? Do you get kicked out of the Goth tribe (or craft or cult or whateverthehell the groups might be called) if you accidentally get a tan? If this happened to a Goth, would they apply some white makeup on themselves to try to cover this up? Or is the makeup standard practice anyway?...

"How come everytime you come around, my London, London Bridge wanna go down?"

Do do dododo dooooooo dooooooo...

2006-05-09T15:48:00.000-05:00

And here is the final editorial for the Advertising newsletter I have been pumpin...

Ahh… May. Tell me, besides the Christmas season and your birthday, is there a more satisfying time of the year than right now? Let’s see… you have the weather finally realizing that it is summer and that shorts (and skirts for you lovely ladies) are perfectly acceptable any day. You also have the NBA playoffs getting into full-battle mode, which is unbelievably nerve-racking if you have a favorite team still competing. After all, the games are so intense that each game can single-handedly skyrocket your heart rate to 190 beats per minute. Trust me, I know.

But anyway, it seems like I am forgetting something else about this season. What could I be leaving out… hmm… lemme think… oh yeah… SUMMER VACATION! Pardon me if I sound like I am still ten years old, but having no classes for three months still makes me smile like a schoolgirl. Being a grad student, next year will be my 19th year of school (add your years up too. It’s a lot higher than you think. And yes, Kindergarten counts as a year, too). Thus, I have good reason to crave a break from it all. After all, I still have one more year to go.

However, for some of you, this is the last hurrah. Some of you fine future admen/adwomen are graduating and I wish you the best of luck. And, as I have already had the privilege last year of walking up on a stage to grab my diploma and shake the hand of an old man I had never met, I can relate. Therefore, out of the kindness of my heart, I will give to you a couple of tips on graduation itself and on your future.

Wear your favorite shirt under your gown.
-After all, it can’t be seen anyway, right? Which will you remember more: the fact that you had on a blue, collared Polo shirt on or your ’85 Bears Super Bowl Champs tee? Which would make the better story? That’s what I thought.

Smile for your parents when you go on stage but don’t be that idiot who screams something upon arrival.
-I hate those guys. I am sure you are gonna get lots of girls telling them the story of when you shouted, “I DID IT!” or “YEAH BETAS!” when you got your diploma.

Take a lot of pictures.
-This is one of those things that moms, sisters and girlfriends are good at. It doesn’t even matter what the pictures are of: friends, family, strangers or drunk dudes passed out on the quad. If is on graduation day, it’s all good.

Listen to “Good Riddance (Time of your Life)” but not “The Graduation Song”
-We all need a reflective, isn’t-time-moving-so-fast song to listen to, so you had better make it Green Day. After all, Green Day are still kickin’ some butt. However, Vitamin C? Do really want your reflective song of graduation to be by a singer who makes you think of orange juice? I don’t think so. Besides, “Good Riddance” can be adaptable to any time changing event while “Graduation Song” sounds too high school.

If it is nice outside, cook something on the grill with your family rather than going to a restaurant.
-After all, if you are planning on having a “nice meal” after graduation, trust me, you will be about the 9,751st person to think of that idea. Literally every restaurant in a 30-mile radius will have a two-hour wait. And let’s face it, you will be starving and you don’t want this day to turn out bad. So instead, head over to the grocery and get some steaks and baked potatoes. This way, you will have another real experience to remember with your loved ones (oh boy, is this getting hokey…just wait…).

Thank your family for everything they have done for you and tell them you love them.
-This is pretty self-explanatory. They have done everything for you. At least give them a few words. After all, you have a very good chance of moving back in with them in the next couple of months. Sorry… just being honest. It’ll probably happen to me, too.

Grab a drink with your friends on graduation night
-Go out. Laugh. Tell stories. Reflect. Hell, cry if the mood strikes you. Honestly, college is only a small part of your life. You had better have had a good time.

If you aren’t done with the college quite yet, go to grad school.
-See: Tyler Freer.

And finally, good luck with your career and with your life.
-This one is up to you. I am obviously still in school, so I can’t be of any comfort. But I am sure you will do great. However, I only ask you for one humble request… if you get the opportunity to tell any of your bosses about any “good candidates” for jobs at your agency, simply remember one name: Tyler Freer. That’s Freer, F-R-E-E…

First (Round) And Foremost...

2006-04-20T13:03:00.000-05:00

The NBA playoffs are back again and I couldn't be happier... for a number of reasons:
1. My Spurs are defending their title and are looking for their first repeat.
-Thus, that time of the year when I scream obscenities until the police are called and where my mood swings like a bi-polar Dr. Phil guest has begun.
2. Despite this, my Spurs are also not the favorites.
-I wrote about this back in November how it seemed like San Antone was simply toying with teams and, considering their high-profile additions, were going to win the title with more ease than Matt Leinert scoring on a Friday night. But lucky for me, the Pistons started off winning their first 45 games or something ridiculous and then became the team to beat. I like being an underdog. Even if I am not playing, but rather, watching on TV.
3. All games are officially worth watching.
-I will watch any NBA game, but this is targeted at those who talk shit about the NBA. I get pissed at people who hate on the NBA. Seriously, those who give me that, "The NBA is boring... they only try in the fourth quarter... they only care about the money... college basketball is waaay better" shit make me want to go 'Hostel' on their ass (a movie I haven't seen but I suppose is an apt comparison). Are you seriously telling me that college ball is better than the NBA? Granted, I LOVE tournament time... absolutely love it... but comethefuckon. Did you see some of those games? If any NBA player missed as many layups as most of those kids, he would have been released before the game was over. Seriously, has any NBA game in the last decade been as painful to watch as the LSU-UCLA Final Four game? I considered breaking into someone's garage just to have my car running in it with the exhaust filling my lungs just to take me out of my misery.
4. No one knows what the hell is going to happen.
-The 2006 playoffs are 'The Usual Suspects' of NBA history. It truly could go countless different ways. I can't remember a season in which injuries to such key guys could change the course of each series. This is the reason why I am taking my NBA playoff predictions one round at a time... cuz ya never know. Anyway, on to the picks...

EASTERN CONFERENCE ROUND ONE:
-Detroit Pistons vs. Milwaukee Bucks
As much as I would like to say something ballsy like "The Bucks have looked pretty good against Detroit this year" or "Have you ever hit a buck driving before? They can really fuck up your pistons", I also gotta be smart. Detroit is too good and the Bucks record was under .500. I want to give the Mils one game, but that seems like two too many: Pistons in 4.

-Cleveland Cavs vs. Washington Wizards
I love this one. First off, you got BronBron, who is still only a hard-to-fathom 21 years old. 21?!?! What the fuck?!?! So just to recap... when I turned 21 I was miserable working in a shitty "resort" in Maine: When Lebron turned 21 he was averaging 30 points a game, leading his team to the playoffs and menaging with the finest groupies that Ohio has to offer. Life isn't fair. Anyway, the Cavs also got a decent mid-season pickup of Ronald 'Flip' Murray, who I have always loved since I picked him up out of the Suck Pile in my fantasy league a couple of years ago when he subbed for an injured Ray Allen and just pumped it for like two months. On top of that, he is called by his nickname 'Flip.' How do you go about doing this? How does this successfully evolve? Can my business cards say Tyler 'Jig' Freer until finally people just start calling me 'Jig?' How many years does that take before people would be comfortable saying that? How ballsy would I be by simply putting 'Jig' on the cards in the first place? Could I be taken seriously? Would I want to be? But, I digress.... the Wiz have my boy Gil Arenas, who is just weird as shit. But I love him. He was one that I also picked up out of the Suck Pile back when he was a rookie with Golden State. For whatever reason, I develop an attachment to my Suck Pile pickups... is anyone else like this? Anyway, this is going to be a ridiculous series that will come down to the final game. My head tells me Cleveland... but my heart says the Wiz... you know how you are supposed to go: Wizards in 7.

-New Jersey Nets vs. Indiana Pacers
In my NBA preview blog, I picked the Pacers to go to the Finals. Not a bad idea, had CARA (Crazy Assed Ron Artest) not devastated Indiana again. Seriously, again? You really gotta hand it to my homestate for not having someone kill CARA during his "I wanna be traded" bitching. Could you imagine a crazy-ass soccer player in like Brazil pulling something like this off and ruining his team's title hopes two years in a row? How quickly would that son of a bitch be dead? Hell, even if he were a Piston he woulda gotten shot... it is Detroit for the love of God. But the Pacers picked up Stojack and did ok.... but I don't know what to make of this team. Indiana either plays great, and beats the Pistons soundly or loses to the Hawks by 25. There is absolutely no consistency whatsoever. For me, the Pacers are like the Ellen Pompeo of the NBA. In case you don't know, Pompeo is Meredith Grey on "Grey's Anatomy" and Luke Wilson's crush on "Old School." If you know her, you know what I mean... she is the most inconsistently attractive person in television/film history. Within the SAME EPISODE she goes from "Damn, what a hot doctor" to "Oooo... bad lighting" to "I would consider inviting her to my Keira/Danica Patrick menage" to "Wow... this booze must be wearing off, she looks like crap." Absolutely unbelievable. But I suppose I should start talking about the Nets now. But I hate them. My boy Jay-Z owns 'em, but I hate 'em. I hate Vince. I hate Kidd. I hate Jefferson. But they have been on fire, so they will probably knock off Dr. Grey: Nets in 6.

Miami Heat vs. Chicago Bulls
-I have come to a realization that pisses me off... I don't hate Shaq as much as I used to. The world used to revolve on three things: the sky was blue, water was wet and I hated Shaq. But now that he is older and not a Laker anymore, my hatred has lessened. It pisses me off and I don't know why. Don't get me wrong, I still wish him a heart attack, but maybe not the massive kind that I had originally hoped for. That being said, I love D-Wade. The kid is fun as hell to watch. I also like these young Bulls and Cracka Ass Cracka Kirk Henrich. Any white man that consistently pumps it you just gotta love. However, Shaq is still too fat and the Bulls are still too young: Heat in 5.

WESTERN CONFERENCE ROUND ONE:
San Antonio Spurs vs. Sacramento Kings
-Adding to his list of "CARA Crazy Shit", Artest has predicted the Kings will upset the Spurs. Naturally, I hate him. But to be honest, this will be somewhat of a struggle. Bibby always plays Oui about as tough as anyone, to the point where France nearly surrenders again after Spurs/Kings games. CARA will almost certainly rape the shit out of the already-80 percent-at-best Ginobili. This beat-down also won't be good for Nigga Tim, who is playing heroic each game despite struggling with a limp reminiscent of Verbal Kint. Seriously, I would be outrageously infuriated if we lost, but when the two best players on the team aren't even close to themselves, it leaves you vulnerable. Why do you think that Oui lead the team in scoring this year? Sure, he pumped it, but Tim's vertical this year could be compared to mine. It's sad... but shouldn't be too sad. I hope. (Over/Under on Eva camera shots in each Sactown home game: 6): Spurs in 6.

Dallas Mavericks vs. Memphis Grizzlies
-Everybody is going gay crazy because the two best teams in the West will play each other (probably) in the second round. It was dumb-ass thinking on the NBA's part, but what can you do? Get over it. I love Pastor Avery and Diggler Nowitzki. Dirk has the prettiest shot in basketball... unless he is stroking against my Spurs. Regardless, this should be an easy round for them. I am happy that the Grizz did manage to get a seed that wasn't an eight, but sorry boys, you'll be back to the blues and barbeque ASAP: Mavs in 5.

Denver Nuggets vs. Los Angeles Clippers
-In another oddly put together situation, despite being the lower seed, the Clips have homecourt advantage. The Clips?! How the hell did this happen?!? Does this mean the Cubs might go back to the playoffs? Will the Colts actually go to the Super Bowl? Why am I dissing the Cubs and my own team in consecutive sentences? Anyway, I see the Clips pulling out a tight "upset" over Melo and the Nugs. Melo will load up on his endorsed PowerBars, but it won't be enough. I can see Melo hitting a game-winning shot (for like his 15th of the year) in Game Six and just grabbing the shit out of his crotch. That'll be gold, but will also be his biggest highlight: Clips in 7.

Phoenix Suns vs. Los Angeles Lakers
-For whatever reason, the sexy pick here is for the Lakers to knock off the Suns. Hold on... last time I checked, L.A. still only has one player right? Kobe? Guy who took more shots this season than the entire Duke lacrosse team? Who else do they have? Lamar "You know I celebrated 420" Odom? Kwame "Biggest bust in draft history" Brown? Do you realize how many players/coaches/writers/fans have called Brown a pussy? I'm not even making that up... all of the aforementioned, media-wary people have actually called him a pussy. And they are gonna beat the Suns? Hell no. Kobe will probably get about 45 a game, but Nash (assuming he isn't too hurt) will run around the Lakers like a baby in a shoestore. The average score will probably be 125-118, but that is to be expected. No upset here: Suns in 6.

That's all for Round One. I'll get to Round Two when it comes around.

Doggystyle

2006-04-14T14:17:00.000-05:00

One of the things that makes life great is the guilty pleasure. After all, everybody's got 'em and everybody's ashamed of 'em. They can be minor and harmless ones, such as that embarrassing-ass Snow CD that you would rather take a flamethrower to the crotch before taking it out of your binder. But they can also be potentially life-threatening, exemplified by friends of mine who constantly pump a.) microwave Tina burritos or b.) gas station hot dogs. Nonetheless, once you succumb to the guilty, you feel oh-so-pleasured.

My point to this is that I have found a new guilty pleasure. It is a show that I have made fun of in the past without even seeing before. You could say that I judged a book by its cover (off topic... isn't it about time that this cliche be updated? What about something like, "Don't judge a hooker by her asking price" or "Don't judge a gangsta by the number of times his car rims spin per minute"?).

My show of shame? 'Dog the Bounty Hunter.' I'll give you a quick overview if you are unfortunate enough to not get A&E: Dog is a leather-sporting, sunglass-wearing, long hair-pumping, mace-wielding bounty hunter in Hawaii who works with his family to catch criminals. And don't kid yourself, this isn't "Honey, let's have our honeymoon in Hawaii" Hawaii. Dog ventures into meth-addicted, stabbin' Hawaii. I can't say I was exposed to this part of the state during my visit.
But seriously... I love this shit. I should know better. It is a "reality" show. It is hokey. It's about a man who calls himself fuckin' Dog, for the love of God. But I love it. Here's a few reasons why...

-First off, it's got THE best theme song on TV right now (and second best in TV history, right behind the one-minute rap theme that every white person can sing... I'll give ya a hint... the greatest starts with, "This is a story, all about how..."). The theme is a hardass, dirty-sounding rock pumpin' by Ozzy Osbourne (of all people). This is the best work Ozzy has done in like twenty years. I'm not even joking. Now, can you even envision Ozzy the first time this idea was set up for him?

Producer: "Ozzy, we want you to sing the theme song for our new show called 'Dog the Bounty Hunter'."
Ozzy: (totally disoriented) "Whaaa... fuckin' dog? You waaaatt me to singg about a fuckin' fuck dog? Is he a talking dog? I talked to a fuckin' dog on tour with Sabbaaaath once. Fuckin' thing called me a bitch so I gave it to uuhhhh guy from Korea... he looked Korean... waaaz his name... fuckin' Korean. (slight pause) Ok, I'll sing to your dog... SHAAARRROOOON!"

-His whole Chapman family/crew: There is 52-year-old Dog (who has 13 kids. 13?!? Maybe he should be called Rabbit), his wife Beth who seems to run the financial end of Da Kine's Bail Bonds (and has breasts so massive, so cartoonishly large that I feel the responsibility of making this joke is just too burdensome to bear), his brother Tim (who has the unfortunate task of being the "cliche guy", such as looking into the camera and saying, "Well, it was a long day... that guy was tricky but we put our game face on and got him"), his wiry son Leland (a small guy but the only one who has gotten into a fight that I have seen) and another son Dwayne Lee (who looks like he does not belong in the criminal catching business... seriously, I am a pussy and I am calling this guy a pussy).

-Their pre-catching setup: Dog gives an overdramatic "This guy is crazy!" speech in which he reveals their hunted's priors. This always cracks me up, because very rarely has the criminal done anything very dangerous...it's typically something like, "Jimmy 'Kanda' Orejo: Charged for Disorderly Conduct and Public Intox." Holy shit, what a menace! He got pounded and walked around! Fuck Bin Laden, Public Enemy Number One is Kanda!

-The Catch: Somehow, Dog ALWAYS has informants. Always. It is how he stays in business. He calls up some rat and gets the location of whoever he is looking for. Now, I am not a criminal, but I have seen enough movies to know that the rat is the lowest form of life in the crime world. How does he get so many? Is it just Hawaii that is filled with rats? Is that part of their culture? Are they all tattle tales? Wouldn't you think some of these rats would get capped? But I digress... Dog gets the location, the Chapmans all ride out to a worn-down apartment on Stabbin' Avenue, and then they pounce. My favorite part is when Dog says, "Freeze motherfucker!" For whatever reason, I love it anytime someone says, "Freeze motherfucker!" Actually, go ahead and put it on my tombstone.

-The Post-Catch: This is where the hokeyness lies. Dog & Co. get the criminal and then attempt to be Dr. Phil. This is hilarious... in the backseat of one of the Expeditions or whatever the hell SUV sponsors the show, Dog, the criminal and Leland (usually) sit. Dog then gets emotional with the criminal and asks things like, "Bra, why did you do that? Don't you love yourself? You don't wanna go back to jail do ya, bra? Think about your daughter... think about your mom. Your mom loves ya, bra." Dog usually gives the criminal a cigarette while the bad man says, "I know... I want to change. Thanks Dog, I love you. You've always cared about me." Then Dog follows this up with a phrase you just know he practiced in the mirror and thinks is clever as hell, something like "It's not nice to sell ice" or "If you hit your wife, you'll ruin your life." Damn, I love this show.

-The "Couldn't Dog get arrested for this?": Oftentimes, before Dog drops the criminal off to the police station, he will destroy any drugs/pipes the criminal might have on him. He'll either crush a crackpipe on the curb (which makes me wonder how many streetcorner crackpipes I have walked over in my life) or flush any other drugs down the toilet. Is this even legal? Isn't this kind of like aiding and abetting? Is the fact that this action is being filmed even worse? Do crackheads across America scream "NOOOOO!" when this happens? Then after the bad guy is taken into custody, Dog or Tim or whoever will usually look into the camera and say, "You know, Kanda seems like a good guy. He's got a mom. He's a family man. He just got addicted to smack." Is this funny to anyone else?

I could go on longer, but you get the point. Dog is a badass. He is a tender man. He is a family man. He wears leather. You gotta like anybody who just pumps leather all the time and doesn't give a damn. Either way, if you feel like you don't have enough guilty pleasures in your life, give Dog a shot.

I Fold

2006-03-29T15:03:00.000-06:00

I've got another confession to make.

This one goes out to pretty much everyone that has ever spoken to me over the course of my life: family, friends, family that I only see once a year, "friends" that if I were to see them in the mall I would run into the nearest store simply to avoid them, classmates, co-workers, bosses, clergy, teammates, strangers, liquored-up dudes at bars, crazy-ass homeless guys, kids at birthday parties and prison guards.

My confession? If any of you listed above has ever, ever told me a story involving poker, I have not paid one fucking bit of attention to anything that you said. Not one word. Oh sure, I give you the appropriate "I really am listening head knod" and the "Aw, that sucks that you lost" reply. But it's all a facade. Come on guys, we've all pulled this at some point... it's the same act you put on when your girl goes on for like 20 minutes about how her five-year-old cousin is taking swimming lessons or something as equally mind-numbing that you can actually feel yourself getting dumber with each passing minute. "Really... you don't say... that's interesting (IQ going down)... well that sucks... you gotta do what you gotta do... uh huh (There goes Senior year of college)... yep... right... I know it... that's crazy (I forget, was Hitler good or bad?)..." You get my drift.

Now you might be reading this and thinking, "Wait, I think I told Jig about that one time back in '97 when I had three Queens and had it won but that douchebag that doesn't know how to play got a Sraight Flush on the river. Does that mean Jig wasn't listening? He hates me! Damnit! Now I'm gonna go drench myself in water and try to break off a low-hanging power line!"

Hey, don't be so dramatic. It isn't you that I don't like (at least probably not), it is your story. Don't take it personally. I hate all poker stories equally. For my money, they are the most boring conversation topics in the history of man. After all, they all follow the same format:
1. You lost
-This always cracks me up. People that win generally are hesitant to brag... it's like they don't want to be arrogant or maybe if they are cocky then their luck will run out. A win means it's always something quiet like, "Well, you know I was in this big poker tournament the other night and, well, I won $100 bucks." However, losing brings on stories so intricate, detailed and boring that even 'The English Patient' looks like 'The Rock' by comparison. But you always find out that the person lost before they go into the following subplots.
2. It was down to you and another guy
-Looks like you are pretty damn good. After all, it is just you and another guy, right? Odds are 50/50, and let's face it, you are probably the greatest poker player alive. Thaaat's right... if you had the money to go to Vegas and enter the world series of poker (and I didn't capitalize that shit for a reason) you would win. No contest. You would have an endorsement with Bicycle playing cards and you could pump all of the 40-year-old, former meth-addict Vegas cocktail waitresses your heart desired. You are the fucking man.
3. You had a kick-ass hand
-And why wouldn't you? You wouldn't have kept playing if you didn't have five cards that were blessed by God Himself. After all, you aren't one of those suckers who doesn't know what he is doing, right? You are the man. You are already mind-purchasing what bottle of booze you are gonna get with your winnings.
4. The other guy sucks
-He doesn't have shit! Look at him! He obviously is far less superior than you. He should just go back home to his Skinemax and call it a night. But let's see what cards he has...
5. There was an odd, totally harmless card on the river
-But who the hell cares? You have three Aces. A Three came up on the river. You might as well call the titty bar right now and tell 'em you are on your way with a lotta little green guys with the name of George. After all, you are the new K.O.P. (King Of Poker).
6. The guy that sucks beat you with that worthless river card
-What the hell? How did this happen?!? You had three Aces! He had two pairs! He had two Fives and two Threes! What the fuck was he doing?! You don't play those cards! Who the hell does that?!? That son of a bitch doesn't know how to play! He got lucky on the river! A FULL HOUSE! You never would have done that! That's bullshit poker! Fuck him! He sucks! You don't go all in with two low pairs! Doesn't he ever watch the world series of poker?! Hasn't he ever watched that fat douchebag with sunglasses play before?! Comethehellon!! Who would ever bluff in this situation?! You only bluff when it is smart! This is not smart bluffing! Even Vince Young would make fun of this guy's Wonderlic test score!
7. Repeat X # of games lost + Remember every minute detail
-This simply amazes me. I don't remember what I had for dinner last night but all of the poker stories I continually hear are painstakingly detailed. Are you guys writing a journal? Is it videotaped? Are you taking pictures of the whole thing? Seriously, if you guys put that memory skill in any sort of productive manner, you would probably be making $100,000+ a year for NASA or some shit.

Now don't get me wrong, I like playing the game as much as the next guy. It's a cool, chill-out, drink with the buddies, toss around jokes, wear a funny hat, throw down a few dollars way to enjoy yourself. But please, for my sake, next time that you lose... keep it to yourself. I don't mean to be rude, but I seriously think about things like, "I wonder if there are any toppings that they haven't put on a pizza" or "If the Spurs let me play in a game, how many points would I score?" or "How come in movies you never see an Indian that jokes around?" when I get bombarded with poker talk. Hell, maybe there is someone out there that actually gets a fat one hearing sentences like, "I should have won" or "Ya never play those cards!" Sorry folks, but that man isn't me.

Random Thoughts I Had While Taking Waaaay Too Long To Update This...

2006-03-15T18:33:00.000-06:00

I love March. Let me give you a couple of reasons why I love March:
1. It's not February
- Seriously, is there a more worthless month than February? And I'm not even hating on it because I was single on Valentine's Day... I couldn't care less about that. No, I hate February because it is short. Seriously, 28 days? That's it?!? Who decided this? I've had erections last longer than 28 days. Because it is so short, I always feel ass raped for paying a full month's rent for simply four weeks. Shouldn't we get February for free? Or at least at a discount? Another thing... February is hard to spell. Also, does anyone pronounce the first R in February? I sure as hell don't. Honestly, you sound drunk if you pronounce the first R. Please, say it to yourself right now. You know I'm right.
2. Spring Break
- This is pretty self-explanatory. Sun + Booze + No School = Fun time had by all... except for the poor bastards who work at the hotels in which the poundation is at. I always feel bad for them. Especially considering I had the worst two months of my life working at a hotel in Maine... but that is another rant in itself.
3. March Madness
- My Lord do I love March Madness. And I hate to brag, but I should have a doctorate degree in Bracketology. Seriously... I'm a stud. I'm most certainly screwing myself by being arrogant (it always happens to me), but I'll give ya my Final Four picks: Duke, Kansas, UConn and B.C. with UConn knocking off Duke in the finals. But more importantly, my favorite team in the tourney? Oral Roberts... but only when I get to see their name scrolled on the ESPN bottomline, where it gets shortened to 'Oral Rob.' Oral Rob?!? Are you kidding me?!? Doesn't Oral Rob sound like the dirtiest, most nasty fuckin' porn star there is? Can't you just hear the director of 'King Dong' saying, "Well, Dick Strong has a tummyache, so we gotta have somebody else replace him in the scenes. The script says he was supposed to go down on three chicks, blow two dudes, knob a midget, suck off a goat and deepthroat a horse. Somebody get Oral Rob on the phone!"....

So was the goal for this season of '24' to see how many times they could get me to cry? Seriously, through half a season they have killed off Michelle, President Palmer, Edgar and now Tony? Tony?! Fuck! I mean when Edgar, that poor chubby, lispy bastard kicked the bucket a couple episodes ago, I held in my tears (barely) and was so distraught that I sat in the corner with the lights out and sang "Never Gonna Let You Go" to myself (a bit of an exaggeration, but you get my point). And that was just Edgar... but Tony? Damnit, he was my second favorite character. He could have easily had his own show called 'Tony' or 'Almeada: CTU' or 'Badass With a Soulpatch' and I would have watched it. After he died, I called Chuck, one of my buddies who also worships '24.' The conversation went something like this:
Me: "Dude... Tony!"
Chuck: "I know! Tony! What the fuck?"
Me: "I know, Tony! Fuck! Tony!"
Chuck: "Tony! Fuck! I know!"
This went on for about 15 minutes. I mean even Jack was crying when Tony got stabbed by Robocop. Jack cried! This is something so rare, so out of character that it would be like Billy Graham picking up a crack pipe. Or Whitney Houston putting one down for that matter....

I have, what I think, is a brilliant idea. Remember when you were a kid and would go to Chucky Cheese (or the lesser known equivalent that might have been in your town)? Tell me, what was your favorite part of the trip? Was it the video games? Was it the pizza? Was it the giant, slightly creepy mascot running around? Hell, no! It was the ball pit! I loved the ball pit! I would give probably about $100 to jump around a ball pit right now. But here's the thing... you get called "creepy" if you are older and would go into a ball pit. Parents would "scream at you" or tell you to "get lost" or even "call the cops." So where is a twenty-something supposed to go to get his ball pit fix? Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Adult Ball Pit. Honestly, if they had an Adult Ball Pit at a bar, wouldn't you go no matter now nasty the bar was? Think about it, if the Adult Ball Pit was about ten feet tall and about twenty five feet wide on all sides with the balls going up to about 4 and a half feet, wouldn't this work? Hell, even if they found syringes in the pit fairly regularly I would still pump the Adult Ball Pit. Just imagine, you grab a drink or two, talk to some buddies, mack on a chick... and then go to the Adult Ball Pit! You could even make up shirts and keychains that said something like, "What happens in the Ball Pit stays in the Ball Pit" or "I was covered in balls at (insert bar here)." It really is a no lose situation. So inventors out there... get on it!....

"Believe it or not, I'm walkin' on air, I never thought I would feel so freeeee,
flyin' away, on a wing and a prayer, who could it be?
Believe it or not, it's just me" (I love this cheesy ass song)....

Trace Issues In Champaign

2006-02-22T18:02:00.000-06:00

For the longest time I have wanted to blog about my boss at Lenscrafters, but have balked at the idea for one simple reason: I have no luck. And because of this fact, I could envision my boss somehow stumbling upon this anti-boss post and either a.) firing me or b.) firing me and suing me for slander. But as a result of my buddy Ron raping on two of his bosses, I can't keep my trap shut anymore.

Let me set it up for you: My boss is the lab manager at Lenscrafters. For this blog, let us call him Ben (sorry... still a tad paranoid). Ben is crazy. Crazy Ben is a 6-5, early 40's dude with graying hair. He's a devout, born-again Christian (you know, the ones that even pastors are freaked out by) who also homeschools all four of his kids, who range in age from about 5-12. As far as work goes (to put it shortly), he treats everyone like shit, thinks he is the Lab God, is really loud, questions every single thing you do (down to what kind of sandwich you are eating for lunch) and tries to not work whenever possible. The following conversations/stories are all true (and mind you, I solely talk to him to make fun of his responses like so):

-The Christmas Conversation
Me: "So, what are you gonna get your kids for Christmas this year?"
Ben: "Well the kids were pretty happy we got the heat in the van fixed. And also last year we got a new refrigerator and they liked it pretty well."

-The Phone Call Eavesdrop
Ben: (Presumably talking to his wife) "(Long sigh)... ok, I guess since it is Saturday you can turn on the internet for the kids. Make sure you watch them though and NO MORE THAN TWO HOURS!"

-My Inquiries On Why He Homeschools His Kids (which for my money is the most sheltering act you can for your children short of breastfeeding them until they go to college)
Ben: "It just seems like kids learn things in schools that they have no business learning."
Me: "That is true, but hasn't it always been like that?"
Ben: "Yeah, but... (deciding if he can trust me or not... deciding he can) it's kind of a race thing here."
Me: "Oh really... how so?" (Eagerly anticipating what he's gonna say)
Ben: "There have been lawsuits from black parents the last few years and now teachers are afraid to discipline the black kids. Now the teachers have no control over these students."
Me: "Well that's no fair... (being sympathetic and wanting the bigger joke) but there will always be disruptive kids. Every school has that."
Ben: "Yeah, but... (deciding if he can go all out with me... deciding he can) do you wanna know what I would do?"
Me: "Sure." (Yes more than anything!)
Ben: "Well, I'd take all of the bad kids (i.e. black kids) and put them in a brand new facility. I'd get the best teachers, the best resources, the best technology and put them all together in this new building... and then put a fence around it."
Me: "HAHAA!" (I laughed. I couldn't help it.) "So, like a prison then?"
Ben: "Oh... you think that might be a little over-the-top?"

-The Baby Name (A woman named Cassy was pregnant before I left for Christmas break and had her baby shortly after I got back from break. I joked with her about naming the baby after me before she had him and asked her how "Little Tyler" was doing once she came back to work. Ben saw this.)
Ben: "So, Little Tyler, huh?"
Me: "Yeah, I thought it would be funny if she named the baby after me."
Ben: "Oh, I thought she was gonna name him David Ian." (Note: the baby's name is not David Ian)
Me: "Oh... where did you get that? Just out of the blue?"
Ben: "No... (smiling to himself) not really."
Translation - God told him Cassy should/would name the baby David Ian. Could you imagine that conversation?
Cassy: "Hey Ben, how are you doing today?"
Ben: "Fine. So, what are you going to name the baby?"
Cassy: "We were thinking Matthew Issac."
Ben: "Really? Well God told me you should name him David Ian."
(Awkward silence)
Cassy: "I'm gonna go now."

-The Drawing
One very busy Saturday, I was pumpin' it on the surface side of the lab (not that any of you know what that means) and noticed that Ben was sitting down at the lab computer doing something. "He's probably just getting caught up on paperwork," I thought and didn't worry about it. A couple of minutes later I look over and Ben is drawing something. The way he was positioned, his right hand was drawing and swooping, while his left hand was stationary and appeared to be flat on the paper. "No way... tell me he IS NOT TRACING HIS FUCKING HAND!" Could you imagine? How fuckin' insulting is that? You, along with everyone else, is hard at work and our 45-year-old boss is tracing his fucking hand like it's a Kindergarten class project?
So I walk over to see what he was doing. He was drawing something, but it wasn't his hand. He was using a ruler to draw a rectangle so perfect that Da Vinci would have been jealous. Within this rectangle, he was making up a work schedule for the week. Ok, understandable... least he's not tracing anything. But then it hit me: he doesn't even make the work schedules. So what the hell was he doing?
This: during that time, the store was big on cutting hours. Therefore, Ben was attempting to find out how many total hours each employee was working to determine who to call off or cut. Sounds reasonable, right? But it's Ben... of course not. He was taking the week work schedule that had been long posted (which simply said something like 'Tyler 9-5' or 'Jon 10:30-6', etc.) and was hand-creating it as a graph. So rather than looking at a 'Tyler 9-5' and determining that I would have worked eight hours minus thirty minutes for lunch break, he was unneccesarily getting the ruler out and making the perfect graph to represent the day. Inside the perfect rectangle, he was making the perfect straight lines to show how long each person had worked that day (a 9-5 shift would have been a longer line that an 11-6 shift... ooohhh and aaaahhhh). He made a line for each person and each hour was also represented. I swear to God, this took two hours. This is so mind-blowingly time inefficient that I can't even think of an equivalent. I would have rather that he was tracing his fuckin' hand. This act naturally lead to his (behind his back) nickname: Master Tracer.

This is just a start on Ben stories. It pays to be inquisitive. Hmm... I wonder what he's doing for Easter...

Random Thoughts I Had While Declining An Invitation To Go Hunting With Dick Cheney...

2006-02-16T11:49:00.000-06:00

First and foremost, lemme say that I had an outstanding Sunday. For the fourth consecutive season, I was in Indy for the SPURS/pacers game. On Sunday I had planned (along with my sister, Yeg, and her fiance Chubbo) to go as soon as the doors opened to get autographs. Once we got our spot along the railing of the visitor’s entrance, I got my gold NBA Finals ball out, whipped out a Sharpie and was ready to roll. Within five minutes, "Nigga" Tim Duncan finished up shootaround and was walking our way. I thought to myself, "No, he won't sign... he never does... he's Tim fuckin' Duncan." Suddenly, he stopped along the first row of the railing and STARTING SIGNING AUTOGRAPHS! "Holy shit, this might actually happen." He signed progressively towards me, one person after the next. He then was in front of Yeg and signed her ball... I was next. "Please don't leave... please don't leave... please don't leave" were my only thoughts. He then appeared in front of me, like a 6-11 angel from the Virgin Islands, took my ball and autographed it. And like Keyser Soze... he was gone. Did that actually happen? Did it really fucking happen? Did I even say thank you? Did I black out? Seriously... I have met some athletes and minor celebrities before and have been fine. This was my first case of being star-struck. I mean... it was Nigga Tim! Ok... so you might be thinking, "Woopdedoo Jig, you saw a basketball player and got him to sign a ball. You are a loser." That might be true, but let's put it in perspective. Ask yourself these questions:
a.) Besides family/friends, what is your favorite thing/hobby/activity?
b.) Within this activity, what/who is your favorite?
c.) If you were to see/meet/act like a speechless retard around them, wouldn't it make your day/month/year/life?
For me, the answers go the San Antonio Spurs, Tim Duncan and yes. It would be the equivalent of some chick that loves "Sex and the City" (imagine that) fainting in front of Sarah Jessica Parker or a nerd visibly shaking nearby Bill Gates or a guy that married his sister bowing to Rusty Wallace or a teenage boy unsure about his sexuality stuttering around Clay Aiken. To each his own and mine is Tim...

Can somebody tell me what the hell the deal is with "SportsCenter" now? I don't necessarily mean the show itself as a whole (even though it doesn't seem at all as funny as it used to be), I just mean one phrase in particular that if it becomes the new "Booyah" (which I have always loved) I am going to end my own life in such a graphic and creative way that even the makers of 'Saw' will think, "Damn... that kid is fucked up." The phrase that is used seemingly each time a final score is shown? "Winner winner, chicken dinner." DAAAAMNIT I am gettin' pissed just thinking about it. Why do the anchors keep saying it? What the hell does it even mean? Is it supposed to be funny? Is it supposed to be clever? It sounds like a fuckin' old timey saying. Is that what "winners" received back in the day? No trophy or ring, but rather a bucket of chicken? Are we supposed to enjoy it because it rhymes? Well ya know what else rhymes? "Victor victor, pooty-licked her". You don't hear that on ESPN, now do ya?...

As you might have realized by now, I have a little crush on Keira Knightley. Therefore, when I heard that she was going to be on the cover of the "nude" issue of Vanity Fair magazine, I camped out in front of Barnes & Nobles the night before it came out (an exaggeration, yes... but don’t think I’m not capable of that). The magazine was wrapped in plastic... always a good sign. So I check out the cover and it has an unclothed Keira getting creepily hair-smelled by a dude in a suit that kinda looks like a stubbly Jeremy Piven. Also on the cover is a nude (but not nude) Scarlett Johansson who, if the picture is any true indication, is so fair-skinned that any lovers she might have would most certainly have to wear Ray Bans when making love to her to avoid any white-out-like vision problems. Naturally I bought it and looked it over. The final grade: a resounding disappointment. A couple of reasons why:
- No more Keira. She has the cover and that is it! Granted she has no clothes on, but she is also not naked. This kinda thing pisses me off... if you are gonna be nude, be nude! Don’t give me any artistic crap where you have your arms covering up the goods. Hell, at least flash me a nip! Can a cracka get a nip? Just a nip!? (those last three sentences were spoken in my best Chris Rock voice)
- There are about 40 or so other celebrities in various states of dress (or undress, but not really) in the magazine. One of them is scalding-hot Sienna Miller (you know, the chick that Jude Law was engaged to when he pumped his chubby nanny). Sienna also happens to be topless in her picture. Worth the price of the issue, right? WRONG. I don’t know how it is possible to make a hot chick with no shirt on look bad, but whoever the hell photographer it was did. First off, she looks damn near 45 (and is like 24 in real life). She’s got this short-assed haircut that is a cross between Sharon Stone at her most desperate and a cocktail waitress in Vegas who hates herself for not finishing school like her mom told her but instead moved in with that guy named Kilo who "sold dictionaries." She is also smoking, which is turn-off numero uno for Jig. Whenever I see a girl lighting up, something else immediately goes down. Thirdly, she’s in this lounging position that is not at all sexy, but rather slightly disturbing, like she just got done doing her gardener and is just chillin’ with no shirt on.
All in all, don’t waste your money. Unless you just wanna read the articles. That is my excuse too...

"Don’t worry ‘bout your dog, I got it under control"...

Super Bored XL

2006-02-09T18:10:00.000-06:00

As I have mentioned before, I write editorials for an Advertising club's newsletter. Here is one I just wrote about the Super Bowl... as always, enjoy...

Super Bowl Sunday should be one of those days where you thank God you are alive. After all, who can go wrong with a day where using the handle to recline your chair counts as exercise. A day that drinking beer on Sunday is not only excusable, but encouraged. A day that you eat so much food, even Kirstie Alley is telling you to take it easy.

And that’s before the game even starts. Once the gridiron battle gets going, it’s a hard-fought, entertaining contest between the NFL’s two best teams, where there is always someone to root for (or against). When there is a break in the action, you don’t care because you are witnessing Madison Avenue’s finest; the most entertaining ads are on display, showcasing sidesplitting humor in 30-second bits that cost a measly $2.5 million apiece. At halftime, a world-class concert is performed by the nation’s hottest entertainers in a show so exhilarating it makes the Beatles appearance on Ed Sullivan look like a pony ride at a birthday party. After this near riot of excitement, the second half ensues, culminating in a finish so thrilling that every other man in America has a heart attack.

Or at least that’s how it should be.

Am I alone here, or did everything about Super Bowl XL feel mediocre this year? Let’s start with the teams: Pittsburgh and Seattle. Do you know one person (who didn’t have a connection to either city) that was pumped about this game? Me neither. The only way I was able to muster up any enthusiasm was by putting a small wager on the outcome (which I lost… lesson to learn: ALWAYS bet against me). Other game comments: unexciting play, poor officiating, stupid coaching moves, not enough cheerleader shots.

Let’s now focus on the halftime show. Post-Janet Jackson, the networks have been petrified about what performers to invite. Easy 2006 solution: the Rolling Stones, a band so old that Genghis Khan was their biggest fan. A band that if a “wardrobe malfunction” occurred during their performance, so many viewers would vomit at the same moment it would probably cause a class-action lawsuit. Anyway, the Stones did an okay job, continuing the previously set theme of mediocrity (quick thought on the Stones… after so many years of singing the same songs, don’t you think they get tired of repeating them? Do you think they just involuntarily perform “Satisfaction?” Do you think Mick has gotten any satisfaction in the 50 years since he wrote it?).

And last, but not least, the “83,333.33 Per Second Wonders.” That’s right… the ads. After all, we are ad students and should probably have taken notice of them too (which makes for an interesting viewing experience. I didn’t know exactly when I was supposed to make a fridge run/bathroom break. Was it during the commercials? During the game? Quickly between plays? I didn’t know.). Naturally, because the ads evidently didn’t want to outshine the game (which would have been incredibly easy), they were fairly uneventful as well. Here are some of my Super Bowl-commercial thoughts, from Touchdown (being very positive) to Fumble (being very negative):
Touchdown: to Disney for its ad showing certain Super Bowl players practicing the “I’m going to Disney World!” exclamation if they won MVP. Funny idea and you know that kind of thing really happens, too. Or at least I hope it does.

Fumble: to Burger King for its embarrassing, if-Vegas-had-a-cheeseburger-show-it-would-look-like-this ad. Part of me wants this commercial to single-handedly destroy the BK franchise. Or at least retire the King. Please retire the King. The “old guy at the bars” is less creepy than the King.

Touchdown: to the preview for the Bruce Willis movie “16 Blocks.” The movie looks cool, but I gotta admit I just loved seeing Bruce with a mustache.

Fumble: to the preview for the Tim Allen movie “Shaggy Dog.” Tim Allen. Disney movie. ‘Nuff said.

Touchdown: to FedEx for its caveman ad. Cavemen are popular this year (between this and the Geico cavemen). It also helps that they had probably about $5 million worth of dinosaur CGI, too. Funny ad, though.

Fumble: to Diet Pepsi and their P. Diddy commercials. The song that Diddy “made” for Diet Pepsi here was so bad it single-handedly took R&B a step back. The song might have been good if Diddy stuck to his norm: stealing old beats and rapping over them. And does anyone else think their new slogan “Brown and bubbly” sounds a little dirty?

Touchdown Called Back Because of a Penalty: to Ameriquest Mortgage Co. and their “Don’t Judge Too Quickly Ads.” These were entertaining for sure (the mom and child thinking the dad had died, the possible mile-high club), but were quite a stretch to connect them with their company. Therefore, funny but the connectivity wasn’t the best.

Fumble: to Budweiser for bringing out those freaking Clydesdales again. Is anyone else tired of them? Have you ever in your life seen one of the ads and thought to yourself, “Did you see the size of those horses! Holy crap, I really gotta have a Bud now!” Of course not. The King needs to ride them off into the sunset.

Game-winning Touchdown: to Sprint, for my favorite ad of the game, the “Crime Deterrent” cell phone. I admit, I didn’t see the phone-to-the-face-toss coming. Let alone twice. On top of that, it’s really not a bad idea. Who needs a gun when you have a phone?

And that’s the game… let’s hope for a better Sunday next year. Just make sure you save the recliner for me.

I'm Lucky

2006-02-06T15:10:00.000-06:00

Today I was sitting in the Illini Union writing some funny stuff to post here, but I felt that it wasn't the right thing to do. You see, I found out today that a friend's mom died a couple of days ago. I don't know the exact details, but although she had cancer, the death was unexpected. This has gotten me thinking all day...

I'm incredibly lucky.

In my 22 years on this planet, I have had only one real affecting death in my life (I also had a dog die that was our pet for over ten years but you can't really count that in a time like this). My great-grandma passed away a couple of years ago; it was tough and tearful, but she was nearly 90 and had been unable to live by herself for a decade. Therefore, it wasn't quite a surprise when she died. Other relatives of mine have passed - distant cousins, some relatives through marriage, friends of friends - but none really had an impact on me. These were people I saw maybe once a year. We have all been there.

This leads me to my feeling of being fortunate. Sure, I could say that I'm cursed or jinxed or unlucky because I lost both of my Super Bowl bets or that the only Illinois home basketball game I have ever attended was the one where their 33-game homecourt winning steak was broken. But what do those matter in the grand scheme of things? Who cares about sports when you are 22 and your mother dies?

And that is the feeling that hurts the most: the unknown. I have no idea what my friend is going through right now. I can tell her I'm sorry and send her a message with my regards, but I have no clue what her emotions are at this time. I can't relate. I wish I could, but I in all honesty can't. While she will grieve for the rest of her life, I will feel for her for a couple of days, but then get back into the stresses of college and act like I had the rest of the semester. I am lucky to have this option.

Honestly, even when things have been terrible in my family, I have always thought to myself, "Nothing serious will happen. Don't worry about it." Am I being too optimistic? Is that naive? Or is it simply because of my fortunate situation I don't know any better? Take for example over the last five years, both my aunt and my grandma have been in incredibly serious, life-threatening medical situations. My aunt had a large brain tumor and my grandma had basically a surgery gone wrong. My mom was with both of them during their times of need and kept the family updated on their respective conditions. Maybe mom didn't express how close both were to being gone on the phone, maybe she was trying to keep us strong, but the thought never even occurred to me that they might die. "What, Lisa? She'll be fine" and "Granny will come out ok" were the only thoughts I had.

Like I said, I have been lucky, fortunate, taken things for granted. All of my grandparents are still alive, as well as my aunts, uncles, good friends, sibilngs and parents. I didn't have to endure a nasty divorce. I hope to have as many of these people as possible during the key moments of my life... getting my first real job and moving away, getting married, having kids. This is where I really feel for my friend... she is getting married in the summer and won't have her mother there to see her. Once again, I simply can't imagine...

I have been lucky.

Random Thoughts I Had While Watching Two Forty-Year-Old, Four-Foot Guatemalans Fight In A Drunken Stupor...

2006-01-27T14:46:00.000-06:00

I gotta say that the thing I dread the most each morning is not the sound of the alarm clock... although that is quite annoying (and while we are on the subject, why do all alarm clocks have the same noise? Couldn't anyone think of something more original than 'BEEEEP! BEEEEP! BEEEEP!?' Can't we get an alarm clock to sound a sweet ass techno song or something? Wait... does a sweet ass techno song even exist? What about an alarm that actually speaks to you? They can be both complimentary and also more attention-getting phrases. Something like, "Wake up, good lookin'. You are a stallion in a field full of fillies" or also "Get up motherfucker! The house is on fire! Timmy is burning alive!"... but I digress.). Anyway, I absolutely HATE the first .05 seconds of the shower. I dread and fear it more than death itself. You know what I mean, when you turn on the shower and the first wave of water that hits you is what was still left in the showerhead the last time you took one. It's always fuckin' ARCTIC cold and causes a full-body shiver (and generally a profanity as well). I used to be so petrified of The Cold Shot that I would turn on the shower standing outside of the tub. Unfortunately, it was then hard to gauge the temp of the water, which inevitably made the water waaay too hot upon entering, causing a woman-like screech and the scalding of my balls...

Recently a guy I used to work with got new tattoos. Being a curious man, I asked what they were. One word: Demons. The man has his whole arm covered in black and white demons. Not just general, unspecific, Gwar-like demons... oh no. These demons had actual names. Who the hell knew that demons had actual names? I mean, they weren't like Jimmy the Demon or Emily the Demonness (even though that would be great). It was something like Mephesito and Kablagara. So I asked him point blank, "Do you worship the devil?" He responded no, but it got me thinking... how does one go about worshiping Satan? Who do you talk to about that? Is there a demon preacher in the yellow pages? Is he under "Satanic Preacher?" Since Preacher is an actual religious term, would they even use the word "Preacher" or would it be something more evil or sinful, like "Death Provider" or "Fuckmaster?" Ok, so let's say you track down a Satanic Fuckmaster, what is the next step? Is there a satanic Bible? If so, what is it called? Do they have any satanic churches anywhere, or is this only practiced in basements and alleys across America? Do they have satanic hymns? Do old Satan worshipers prefer the hymns, while the younger ones like the contemporary satanic songs? What would be the equivalent of Christmas for them? Halloween (as many crazy assed people think it actually is)? How many of the Satan worshipers have "sold their soul" to the devil? Is this a requirement to be in the "church"? Or are Satanic Fuckmasters the only ones who have to do that? But if you do sell your soul, wouldn't you at least ask to be rich as powerful in return? Don't a lot of rock stars do this? Don't you think that most Satan worshipers work at like Discount Dens across the nation? If a Satan worshiper goes to Heaven instead of Hell, is he pissed? Would his obituary read something like, "Shawn Gates went to be with Satan on Saturday night. He gave his life to the Devil for 58 years."....

What is the deal with these ugly ass boots that chicks seem to be pumpin' all of a sudden? You know what I'm talking about... they are one of two kinds, but are both are so ugly that I wanna slap your momma:
Ugly Boot Numero Uno: The "Uggs" as they are called. I can't think of a more appropriate name (with the exception of "Pieces of Shit" but that is a little long and possibly offensive). These are the sheepskin boots with the ugly ass fur ring at the top of them. Honestly, are we in fucking Alaska? Do you have to get the dogsled team together so you can slide to the "local" store 35 miles away to get some milk? How many times a day do you say "Mush!"? That's zero, bitch! Quit wearing them! They aren't sexy! They are reserved for Eskimos! You don't see those poor, shivering bastards wearing Steve Maddens, do ya? Hell no! And why are these being worn with skirts? Bring back the hooker boots! At least those were hot! I don't care if they might look trampy... I'd take a skank any day over a wannabe-extra from a Steven Seagal movie!
Ugly Boot Numero Two: I don't know what these are called, but I shall describe... remember when you were in second grade and you were home for a snow day and wanted to play outside? Your mom made you wear those cheap, ugly boots that had velcro at the top so you wouldnt get your feet all wet and snowy. They had about 1/6 inch of rubber on the bottom, so even if you stepped on a thumbtack it could potentially cause a trip to the hospital. They were hideous, even for a second grader's taste, but you didn't care too much because you were playing in the snow and you weren't at school. Fast forward over a decade, and like Michael Myers in the 'Halloween' movies, they keep coming back. Seriously, I see at least five chicks a day sporting these on campus. Mind you, they are so fucking ugly that if I was given a pair as a gift I would probably stick my head in the oven. Therefore, good looks cannot be an excuse for wearing them. Also, there is absolutely no snow on the ground, so practical reasons can also be thrown out the door. What does that then leave us with... trendiness? Who the hell cares? Good Lord, these girls even tuck them into their jeans! What the fuck is this? If you had your pants over them at least they would show less, but the tuck? Damnit... these are not attractive! They don't add to appearance! In fact, they subtract from appearance! Would you buy a rash from the mall and put that shit on your face?! Of course not! These things have the exact same effect. I will now call my mom to see if she still has my old ones. Maybe I can sell them to some retarded chick on campus and tell her they are "vintage"....

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall... who is the top dog of them all? There was a rubble-dubble, five minutes it lasted... the mirror said, 'You are, you conceited bastard'."

Getting Gelded

2006-01-18T16:29:00.000-06:00

Now that it has been a couple of days since Black (and Yellow) Sunday, I feel I can finally talk about it. The Colts/Steelers game was three hours of lows, lower lows, a high, a low, a high that the most expensive drugs couldn't even reach and a low so devastating that it took me three days to post this.

Maybe it is foolish to get so involved in a game... after all, we fans that aren't at the game have no impact whatsoever (despite the fact I partly blame myself for the loss... I just had to wear my semi-cursed Peyton jersey). But getting emotional about sports teams is part of what makes sports great. A win can put you on a cloud for days, but a loss can potentially piss you off each time you think about it... and this leads me to Black (and Yellow) Sunday.

I honestly never thought that the Ponies would lose. The spread was 9.5. I felt that it was more than safe. I would have put money on that, but instead threw a whopping $5 on "First Points Scored Will Be a Colts Touchdown Pass." After all, I was gonna get $14 back and that seemed like a pretty likely result (lesson to be learned here: always bet the opposite of me. Always.).

Then the game started. Big "Ugly Beard" Ben was having his way with the Ponies' D like a perv that slipped a roofie into a chick's drink. Meanwhile, those that wore Blue simply... blew. The playcalling was atrocious. It was predictable. On top of that the O line gave Peyton about as much protection as a 30-year-old condom. He was being bombarded by a defense that was good but by no means fantastic (with the exception of hippie-assed Palmolive or whatever the hell his name is). Edge was being stopped somewhat, as he would either run for 9 or 1 (but that was great that Moore gave up on him... way to fuckin' go). But most importantly Peyton sucked.

It's time to be honest. Don't get me wrong, I love Peyton. I have his jersey. I think I bought the Peyton-O's cereal years ago. As far as goofy-assed crackers go, he's near the top of my list... or at least was. Peyton chokes. In each clutch situation. Every time. Why? How? What sense does this make? Does he study too much? Does he not study enough? Does he think, "I'm Peyton Manning... we'll win." and then think "Oh shit, this is the playoffs... we won't win." I have said for years (even before he started winning MVPs and threw nearly as many picks as TDs) that he was the best QB in the game. Watching him change plays at the line of scrimmage where he does that pointing thing and starts barking syllables is the most enjoyable thing to watch in football. I always felt that, in his early days, he was too football-smart and that his receivers just hadn't caught up to him yet. Well, they've caught up now. And we still can't win in the playoffs.

And it wasn't even the Patriots that took us out. I could live with that. At least it would be one team we couldn't get past. Not the case this year. It would be the equivalent of going after a hot chick, let's call her Keira (am I obsessed or what?). Actually you have competition for her from a guy named Tom. The thing is, Tom always gets the girl. He's good-looking, charming (both of which you got too), but he also drives a Benz. That puts him over the top. Well, Tom recently got in an accident so his Benz is in the shop. He's now driving a Cavalier. You got a Corolla, which trumps a Cavalier so you think you finally got him. You will win. Keira is yours. You see a dejected Tom walk away from Keira, so it's time to make your move and seal the deal. All of a sudden, some fat ass guy with a skin condition cuts you off and heads for her. "What the hell?" you think, but this tubby albino chump shouldn't be much of a threat. But Keira hasn't turned away from King Albino... in fact, she is smiling, she is laughing... what the fuck?!?! She's leaving with him! How the hell did this happen? It was your turn! Evidently, Keira likes overweight, sickly-pale white guys. Now all you can do is wait, get pissed and drink.

The problem is then, what do we change? You don't wanna overhaul the roster (or become albino), so how can we fuckin' finally get over the hump? Do you bench Peyton in playoff games? Of course not. But what will happen in the off-season? Is Edge gonna leave? I didn't realize how important he was to the team until this season. We need his I'm-gonna-follow-your-ass running success to sell the play-action (which I don't recall seeing much of against Pitt... damn, I'm getting pissed again). And our backup is Dominic Rhodes, who I think even fumlbed his baby when it was handed to him the first time. But can we afford Edge? What about Lil' (Reggie) Wayne? He's a free agent and is a legit stud. Will the Ponies pony up for him?

Here's the deal: we peaked too early this season. Football, like all sports, has a lot to do with who is playing well at the right time (read: Steelers and Panthers). We peaked at about Week 9. You can't do that. In hindsight, we should have continued to play the starters for each game to keep the rhythm going. I don't blame Dungy for benching the starters though; that situation is pretty much damned if you do or damned if you don't. However, maybe Dungy can't win it all (considering how good of a man he is and taking into account what has happened to him over the last month I am not gonna go outside during any storms for fear of a lightening bolt to the crotch). He had the same problem in Tampa, which is why they let him go. Great man, honorable man, good coach, but maybe not a great coach.

I'll depart with this: although I had to work on Black (and Yellow) Sunday, we weren't busy (and had a TV in the lab) so I saw every play. Luckily, I did get to see the Bettis fumble, which I will never forget, but also have a hard time remembering. The optimist in me thought something like that might happen, but I didn't say shit for fear of jinxing it. Suddenly, BOOM! the ball flew out at the FUCKING ONE YARD LINE! It bounced perfectly to Harper who took off. At this point I screamed some stuff (none of which I remember... and keep in mind that customers can hear every word that I say, so I could have potentially been fired), hyperventilated and ended up on the floor looking up at the TV. I didn't pass out but I don't know how I got on the ground. Fast forward a few minutes, when "Not-So-Dandy" Vandy missed the field goal that was so far right Bush immediately put him in his Cabinet (in the only political joke you will hear me do). I didn't really have a reaction. Surprise. Shock. Not anger quite yet. Sadness was more so. It was like I watched a marathon of "Schindler's List", "Million Dollar Baby" and "Dead Man Walking." But we deserved it. We choked. We played like bitches. We were gelded.

Pis(s)ton Me Off

2006-01-12T21:48:00.000-06:00

After watching tonight's Spurs/Pistons game, I am left with two conclusions, one good and one bad for me:
1. The chance of another Spurs/Pistons NBA Finals is about 99% certain (I leave the other 1% open to the Suns just in case Amare comes back from his injury super pissed and super buff and just goes all Tom Cruise on the rest of the league. I think if he got another long assed tattoo, such as his favorite chapter from Harry Potter, it might put him over the top).
2. The Pistons are (currently) the best team in basketball... bar none.

That last sentence caused me more pain than my kidney stone. But it's true. The Spurs were completely owned, dominated, embarrassed by Detroit. They were Ike. We were Tina. They were Hitler. We were Poland. They were Thomas Jefferson. We were the 15 slaves he impregnated. And to top it off, it was at home no less at the newly named AT&T Center (AT&T? What is this, 1988? When was the last time you even heard about AT&T? Does anyone even use landline phones anymore? Shouldn't AT&T get with the program and start doing cell phone service? Or were they technologically topped out with fax machines?).

It was pathetic to watch... and to be honest, I am worried. I am scared. I am pissed. There is something missing. Charm, perhaps? We always had this small-market, hard-working, quirky charm in years past. But as I have mentioned before, these Spurs have that "Hell, we already got the title locked up this year so fuck playing each game hard, let's eat ice cream at halftime and start really ballin' in April" attitude that the Fuckin' Lakers had when they three-peated. Therefore, I hope that this game will be a bitch slap so fresh that each player has a visible mark on their
face for the next game. At this point, this team is about my 8th favorite Spurs team.

There are so many things that uncharacteristically make no sense... why the hell is Pop playing The Rash (Rasho Nesterovic) over The Nazi (Nazr Mohammed)? Did he not see the Finals last year? Granted, neither player is great, but the Nazi is a helluva defender, whereas the Rash is one of the tallest pussies in the world. The excuse is that "Rash is having a good season." It would be like having Cinnamon Toast Crunch and King Vitamin in your cereal cabinet and choosing the King because "it tastes better with 1% milk." Does that make any sense at all? Hell no! Come on Pop! Since when have you been a dumb coach? Is it that back curl/short mullet you got? Bring the crew cut back then, damnit!

And why the hell can't they rebound? Seriously, the Pistons had 20+ more rebounds! 20+?!? It happened in both games nonetheless! It ain't like the Spurs got five Danny Devitos on the court. It's pretty much the same team as last year, and I don't recall getting pumped on the boards then. Speaking of the team differences, I am not at all sold on our new acquisitions. I gotta admit that when we signed both The Finisher (Mike Finley) and High Socks (Nick Van Exel) I immediately had all of the blood in my body rush to a certain area so quickly that I had to lay down. In retrospect, I guess I hadn't seen either of them play since the '03 Playoffs. The Finisher is the slowest moving two-guard I have ever seen... he doesn't drive, but simply does the one-or-two-dribble-and-then-jump-shot like that fat outta shape guy you sometimes unfortunately get on your pickup team that you hate. I swear each game he goes 3-11 (if he's lucky). And for High Socks, lemme see... he's really good at catching the outlet pass and firing up a ridiculous three two seconds into the shot clock that clangs off the rim (if this were an actual category he would be leading the league).

We aren't playing the ass-raping defense we typically do and that is obvious. Most announcers might use that as our reason for the big pumpings from the Pistons. But the following statement is the number one reason why we look worse that Master P on "Dancing With the Stars" lately: no The Raper (Bruce Bowen) threes. When we play well, when we play like the fuckin' Spurs, Bowen gets at least five wide-open threes from the corner and typically makes at least two. We pass the ball around, find him open with about seven seconds on the shot clock, he drains it and the other team gets pissed cuz a Bowen basket is like a succession of punches to the crotch (cuz he ain't exactly Jordan on the offensive end). In the six games he didn't hit a three this year, we lost half of them.

I gotta hand it to the Pistons though... they looked great. This time they had that cockin' attitude. A couple of times the Spurs cut the lead down to single digits, and it was the Pistons who pulled the Fuckin' Lakers move and decided to start playing O and D again. I hate that shit. They passed the ball to the open man perfectly, boxed out like the gayest man in the prison shower and forced the Spurs to take more bad shots than a frat initiation hazing. Basically, I would bet my life savings on the Pistons making the Finals (as for Miami, nope! And the poor Pacers were screwed once again by CARA. Has there been anyone in the history of sports that has totally fucked their team's season two years in a row? It is almost unbelievable. I totally wanna go to the Pacers vs. Dumb Schmucks That Pick Up Artest just to see what the crowd does to him. Part of me wants him to go to Detroit so there would be an actual Civil War between Indiana and Michigan. Hell, I picked Indiana to go to the Finals, but only if CARA didn't mess anything up. Damn... glad I didn't bet on that...).

I suppose part of me is happy that my team is no longer the overwhelming favorite for the crown now. I was slightly upset early in the season that the Spurs were expected to win and that it took all of the fun out of winning it. Now this adds some drama to the process. I just wish we didn't look so bitchy... ah well, see you in June, Pistons.

The Christmas Letter

2005-12-28T09:42:00.000-06:00

I gotta say that one of my favorite parts of the Christmas season is the Christmas card/letter that you get from people you just kinda know. Invariably, you respond to the Christmas card picture with something like, "Since when do they have that many kids?" or "Holy crap, he didn't age well" or "Whoa, she's kinda hot! How old is she?". But the letters... that's where the comic gold lies. Some people are just too honest on these babies. Therefore I, Ty Freer, will write my family's (madeup) Christmas letter for the year that was 2005... enjoy....

Greetings friends, and Happy Holidays from the Freer home to yours. It's hard to believe, but 2005 has come and gone with more speed than Ty running from the cops (we'll get to this later). So many terrible, tragic events happened this year worldwide (Nick & Jessica broke up, Bath & Body Works discontinued the "Red Delicious" scent and something happened in New Orleans but I wasn't really paying attention) that we feel unworthy to talk about our year. But upon drinking half a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps (I only meant to add a dash to my cocoa, I promise!), I'm ready to cut loose.

So what has Dan been up to? Well, in case you didn't hear, he quit his part-ownership in Freer Farms back in March. Dan broke this stunning news to the family one morning, as he looked up from his coffee and said, "I will farm no more forever." He went on to say that his heart lied in his true passion: ventriloquism. This also came as a shock to the family, as no one even knew he could spell ventriloquist much less be one. Apparently, rather than planting and harvesting crops that previous year (as he said he did), he was sneaking off to tiny bars and nursing homes to "perfect his act." His ventriloquist dummy is of a two-foot Asian boy dubbed "Chan." As one could guess, the title of their show is called "Dan & Chan." The act mostly consists of racial jokes, Pearl Harbor/Hiroshima references and the grand finale of Dan drinking a bottle of pop as Chan says, "Me Chinese, me play joke, me put peepee in your Coke." Dan has attempted to book a show on Letterman, but now has a restraining order against him for "being insanely creepy", said Dave.

Kim, now being the primary breadwinner in the family, is now doing absolutely everything she can to make money. This means that she has tacked on a few "extra jobs" at Union on top of her third grade teaching position. Her typical day is as follows:
6-7:59am: Breakfast cafeteria lunchlady (but no breakfast for herself! This isn't allowed)
8-9:50am: Teaches third graders stuff
9:51-10:25am: Recess duty (break up fights between brats and blow the whistle a lot)
10:26-10:55am: Lunch for the kids (you guessed it, she becomes a cook again and is despised by lunchlady peers for smelling "pleasant" rather than "like s***")
10:56am-3:00pm: Teaches third graders more stuff
3:01-5:00pm: Coach of elementary girls volleyball team (despite not knowing the rules of the game)
5:01-7:00pm: Coach of elementary girls basketball team (where they only practice how to pull hair without getting called for a foul and how to make sure that there is a "jump ball" every 15 seconds)
7:01pm-1am: Night janitor (sweeping each room and mopping spots where kids p***ed on the carpet)
1:01-5:30am: Asleep on inflatable Spongebob chair in her classroom
Doesn't it seem like Kim has a youthful amount of energy? Well, she has some help for that. As a result of the constant overtime (and extra $35/week on her paycheck) Kim has developed a fairly nasty crack addiction. Lucky for her, she gets the drug for free from her loving son/dealer Ty.

Ty, true to his word, started dealing crack to pay for his tuition to the University of Illinois. Before enrolling at the U of I for grad school, Ty graduated from Purdue University... but not without some help. Going into his last semester's Finals week, Ty had a D, three F's and an incomplete. Obviously, these grades were not going to get him a diploma, and he didn't really want to waste valuable drinking time studying, so he had a solution: start banging professors. Ty pumped four professors, three TAs, a counselor and a well-dressed woman he thought was a department head but really was a janitor with new clothes. Because this strategy was so successful, Ty decided to screw his way into grad school. Three profs, two TAs and a secretary later, Ty got into the U of Illinois. Unfortunately for him though, he couldn't f*** his way out of his tuition bills (although he tried). After attempting a few different methods of paying for school (stripping, selling unhealthy amounts of plasma and begging in the streets), he found that dealing crack brought in the most profit. He was introduced to the "crack game" by a kindly fellow named Suge "Tha Nigga Killah" Wallace, whom me met at a "Dan & Chan" show put on for the underprivileged children of Champaign. Lucky for Ty, he's only been close to being arrested once, when he sold a bag of crack to a seven year-old boy who's daddy was a cop (boy did Ty run away fast!).

We have some exciting news from Ashley! She's engaged! Her boyfriend of two and a half years, Chris, proposed to her in May! Although the two don't have a date set yet, they plan on tying the knot the day after Chris' beloved Cubs win the World Series (looks like a loooong engagement!). One thing they have agreed on though is that Chris will be a good sport and take the Freer surname. Chris agreed to this despite the majority of his family being offended so horribly that they refuse to acknowledge his existence. Ashley also had her fourth abortion this summer. Unfortunately for Chris, he was once again not the one who got her pregnant (Ash has narrowed it down to a guy named Jorge and a stranger who kinda looked like Lil' Bow Wow), and now our family thinks that Chris "shoots blanks." But despite being cheated on countless times, Chris is still very supportive of his fiance and her acting career. Ashley has been in a few movies lately, but unfortunately, we have not been able to see them as they are strangely only sold in Germany. So if any of you are traveling that way soon, please go into a video store and check out "Brokeback Mountin'", "King Dong" and "The Dirty Dirty Magician." Please get us a copy and we would love to see them!

That has been our 2005... pretty basic and boring I know. To all our friends and family, have a safe and wonderful new year! May 2006 bring many blessings to you all!

-The Freers

The Life and Times of Kelsey Part I

2005-12-23T10:18:00.000-06:00

The other day I went back to my alma mater, Union Elementary-Jr.-Sr. High School. If you have never heard of this educational marvel located in Modoc, IN then... you aren't alone. Anyway, the cause of my return was to meet my mom's third grade class, as I like to put faces with names on which kids eat erasers, poop their pants and have started smoking.

Mom introduced me and my sister Yeg to the class and the kids subsequently told us their names. As the circle of names went around, it stopped on a certain young boy, who said, "If I tell you my name, I don't want it to be in the newspapers. (slight pause) Kelsey." Do you think I could let this slide? Oh no. Well, Kelsey, I don't write for a newspaper anymore, but I've got the next best thing. So here, ladies and gentlemen, is the (made up) life of Kelsey Anthony. The past, present and future of the 8 year old third grade student from Union....

Kelsey Demetreus Anthony was born in Guantanamera, Texas on May 5, 1997 to "Big" Louie and Henrietta Anthony. Unfortunately for baby Kelsey, there was a hospital mixup mere minutes after he was born, as two distinguishable nametags were inadvertently switched by a drunken nurse (the aptly nicknamed "Becky the Boozehoe"). Instead of going home with his rightful parents, Kelsey was given to Javy and Marta Valentine, who thought they had their own newborn son, Rico Pedro Santo Vivo Rodriguez Rodriguez Valentine. So little Kelsey, living with his "new" Hispanic parents (and now being called "Pequeno Rico"... but this doesn't matter to Kelsey too much, I mean he's still a fuckin' baby) began to live the life of a true American immigrant. This meant at the ripe, workmanlike age of one, Kelsey began to sell Chicklets gum to tourists of his hometown.

However, three years later, Kelsey and his parents moved to Blountsville, Indiana, as Kelsey's "dad" Javy learned of a magnificent, once-in-a-lifetime work experience there that was job-titled "Seasonal Harvester." Javy envisioned himself behind the wheel of a huge combine, harvesting corn or wheat or whatever was necessary in that particular season; where all farmers wanted to be him and all farmer's wives wanted to pump him. Unfortunately for Javy, he didn't realize that "Seasonal Harvester" was the PC term for "Tomato Picker."

It was around the time of the Valentine's move to Blountsville that the family began to question if their son was actually their son. After all, "Pequeno Rico" didn't appreciate Javy's favorite singer Enrique Iglesias; Kelsey preferred Elton John (or as Javy called him, "Grande Homo"). Kelsey also liked fruit cups over nachos and Budweiser over Corona (sometimes a four year old's gotta drink). Therefore, the Valentines, through a private investigator, attempted to find out if their son was truly their son.

The P.I. did some researching and discovered that their real son, Rico, was actually living but five miles away in nearby Losantville, Indiana. Ironically enough, it seemed that the Anthonys also had moved to rural Indiana recently, as "Big" Louie had obtained the prestigious job as "Barn Painter", in which he hand-spray painted certain designs onto the exterior of people's barns. He was known county-wide for his detailed barn-artworks such as "R.I.P. Dale Earnhardt, #3", "Perot 4 President in '04" and "Skynard Forever". Once the Anthonys were told about the hospital mixup that had occurred back in Texas, they were shocked, speechless, and also relieved. They too had wondered why their son (the real Rico) was such a big fan of the Iglesias family, despite "Big" Louie constantly referring to Enrique as a "fuckin' homo" and saying things like, "Damnit, Kelsey, you know who's a real man? That Elton John."

So the boys were now put back in their proper homes... Rico with the Valentines and our hero Kelsey with the Anthonys. How will life be different for Kelsey? Will he be able to adjust to his new English-speaking home? Will he miss the Valentines? Will he enroll at Union or be homeschooled (I guess you know the answer to that one)? Come back soon, as the saga of Kelsey Anthony has just begun.

Random Thoughts I Had While Recalling My 10-Touchdown Recess In 5th Grade...

2005-12-09T16:11:00.000-06:00

It pains me to say it, but the Ponies are not going to go undefeated. But it's not gonna be the Jags that give us the first loss... it'll be the Seahawks. And it will only be because Officer Dungy (don't you think he kinda looks like a cop? Couldn't you picture him with that flat, round, brown hat on with the plastic bag over the top pulling you over? I dunno, maybe it's the mustache) won't play the studs for very long. After all, we might even face Seattle in the Super Bowl and wouldn't want to give anything away (except for maybe backup QB Jim Sorgi's ass). Another Colts note: does anybody else miss Jim Mora? I sure as hell do... not so much for the coaching, but for his outbursts. Who could forget, "Playoffs?!?! Playoffs?!?!"? I loved that shit. Can't we hire him to just do press conferences? What would be better than sneaking some whiskey into his Ensure and watching him go? I would almost rather see this than get a Super Bowl... on second thought, maybe not...

Staying with football, you know who I truly do want to see the Ponies play in the big game? The Bears (and I didn't say "Da Bears" cuz, contrary to popular belief, it is not 1991 and Chris Farley died a long time ago). This is my wish for a couple of reasons:
1. I want to see how many new Bears hats/jerseys/sweatshirts invade campus during January and February.
Seriously, is there a bigger bandwagon sports town in the world than Chicago? I mean, I know some of the teams have their die-hards (and I completely respect them), but come the fuck on. Hell, the bandwagonism has happened at least THE LAST THREE YEARS! Let's think: the '03 Cubs (my personal favorite for complete ridiculousness), the '04-05 Illini basketball team, the '05 White Sox, and now the '05 Bears. I am secretly hoping the '06 Bulls go to the Finals so I can add them to the list of, "Oh yeah, I've always liked the (insert Chicago team here)! I saw them play on TV one time a couple of years ago when they had that one guy that was good" teams that no one gave a shit about until they started winning. This entertains me to no end.
2. The Ponies offense vs. the Bears defense (they can't all be funny).
3. The Surreal Life of Kyle Orton.
Let us take a moment to reflect on the past 18 months of the life of K.O. In his (and my) final year at Purdue, he was the man... at least for 5 games. Do you even remember this? Purdue started 5-0 and he had like 30 TDs and no picks! Am I the only one who recollects that announcers were basically saying things like, "If God were to pick one player he would not want to go up against, it would be Kyle Orton" and "My daughter had cancer, but Kyle Orton touched her with his throwing hand and she is not only completely healed, but can now also speak Latin and play the violin." He was not only gonna win the Heisman (and possibly have the trophy renamed "The Orton"), but was a sure fire bet for number one pick in the draft.

But then... he fumbled against Wisconsin. Then lost. Then lost some more. Then got hurt. And the season that Orton was supposed to take the world by storm ended up being quite mediocre. Fast forward to the NFL draft... he went from "Number One Pick and Immediately the Richest Man Ever Born in Iowa" to fourth round pick to the Bears.
But the Bears already had two quarterbacks ahead of him, so even making the team would be quite impressive... then, in the preseason, starter Rex Grossman breaks a bone and is now out for a looong time. Backup Chad Hutchison then gets cut simply because he is horrible (pretty sure he bought some rope after that announcement). Guess who that leaves? Yep, K.O. Not only does he win the starter position (kinda by default), but he also is blessed to have the best fuckin' defense of all time on his team. He then "leads" his team to a 9-3 record and a pretty good shot at homefield advantage (despite throwing a whopping 9 touchdowns all season... hell, that's one game of Madden for me), and also grows what is quite possibly the worst beard in human history.
So, can you imagine having this year-and-a-half happening to you? That would be the equivalent of dating the girl of your dreams... let's go with Kiera Knightly (my girl). So you and Kiera are together, and everything is great. She's fuckin' smokin' hot, kickin' body, and she's always begging for it, too. Everybody wins. You are now the center of attention. People are like, "Where did he come from? How did he get her? He must have a huge cock!" Things couldn't be better... then outta nowhere, she breaks up with you. Not only that, but she holds a press conference to say, "I don't know what I was thinkin' on that one. I have been pumpin' a guy named Matt now for a week or so... oh yeah, and (you) had a tiny cock. T-I-N-Y! That's pretty much the reason I am now with Matt...thank you."
So now you are devastated. Things couldn't have turned upside down more. Now everybody is down on you, making fun of you on the street and calling you "Tiny Cock." Some time goes by, people kinda forget about you, but now you feel you can go back and find another woman. You meet a girl... she's cute, but no Kiera. She's nice, unpretentious and has gotta sweet smile. You go out a couple of times and realize you like her. She's funny and intelligent. Then she slowly gets more attractive... she's letting her hair grow, wearing tighter shirts, sporting sexy thongs. Now she's lookin' pretty fuckin' hot (and you didn't see it coming). Not only that, but sometimes you think to yourself, "Wow... Kiera couldn't EVER do THAT move." Then one day she gets a phone call... it's her mom and her favorite uncle died and left her $5 million dollars. To your surprise, despite her new bankroll, she wants to spend it on you! Could you have been more lucky? Meanwhile, Kiera still kinda sees Matt, but is now also dating a dude named Reggie. Do you care? Hell no! After all, you are thinking about picking out a ring for your new girl. Could you imagine THAT scenario?....

How much time do you think Chad Johnson takes out of his day to think of touchdown dances? I am not rapin' on the guy... I like him and I love the dances. But don't you wish the Ponies had someone who celebrated like that? What if Marvin suddenly decided, "You know what, I've been humble too long. Fuck it." and started going crazy? I would love it if after his next touchdown, he took off his helmet, grabbed a Mach3 and some shaving cream from behind the goalpost, and started shaving his mustache, while Brandon Stokely held out a mirror. I think my life would be complete if that happened...

Friend or foe yo, state your biz...

And It's Only Noon!

2005-12-01T12:21:00.000-06:00

Ok... I'm usually not one to blog about my typical day. You know, the "I woke up this morning still upset over the loss of my cat" or "The sun was shining brightly when I ate my Lucky Charms all alone" or "Oh boy, life is so busy right now. Please feel sorry for me so I don't jump on top of a chainsaw." I personally think these blog types are pretty boring. If you are a loyal reader of mine, you know what you are getting... hilarious observations and ridiculously witty commentary (I am now patting myself on the back and giving myself a $5/hr raise).

However, today has been weird as hell. And it is only noon. So let me share with you some "What the hell?" points of interest for the first day of December:

-I open my door to walk to class and what do I see? SNOW?!? What the hell? Who said this was coming? I expected this about as much as another hit single by Gerardo. Not only that, but walking in the snow today made me realize that my old-school lookin' Nikes (with the Air Max pocket) have possibly the worst traction since Firestone tires. Seriously, I look around and no one else is walking awkwardly... meanwhile I look like a fuckin' baby on rollerskates.

-My 10am class was a presentation day. Groups gave presentations on a certain ad campaigns and essentially broke them down into cultural significance, persuasive techniques, etc. One group focused on Nike's new campaign directed toward women, in which they show more "realistic" chicks (i.e. not exactly pictures that are hidden under mattresses nationwide) who might exercise daily. Naturally, using real women was one of the positives of the campaign; it showed that Nike was breaking away from 90 pound models that are typically associated with advertising. However... the girls presenting described the Kate Moss-type of ad models as something like, "Waaay too thin, sickly-looking women that are unrealistic... size 0 or 2 that no women are." As you can gather, the presenters went on about how excessively thin these women are. Why is this funny? Well, there are a handful of girls in the class that positively ARE fucking size 0's (actually, do they have a negative size? If so, I know some buyers). I mean, I like thin... but damn! To be fair, these chicks are quite attractive... but damn! I'm talking bone arms... bone arms! Damn! It's sickly! Who is your inspiration? Nicole Ritchie? Grab some fuckin' Twinkies! Eat a Papa Dell's pizza! Hell, I'll split it with ya! This also got me thinking: when the "excessively thin" thing was being talked about, did they think of themselves in this group? Would this be the equivalent of publicly talking shit about really fat people while in Wal-Mart? Would they feel insulted? Would they know they are included in the group?

-Moving on, after the class, I had to pump some food. So I roll to Chipotle (which just opened) to get a chicken burrito. If you know me, here's what I eat (in no particular order): meat, pizza, fruit, cheese, bread, cereal... that's about it. To hell with vegetables. To hell with condiments. Keep it and give me basic. Therefore, I run the risk of getting screwed at Mexican places because I only eat a.) chicken and b.) cheese. Lucky for me, this had never happened. The Qdoba here only charges me like $2 for my plain burrito (and they load me up with the meat). Enter Chipotle... I order my "chicken burrito with just chicken and cheese" like always (and I ALWAYS get a relieved look too, like "Ahh, this bastard is easy"). Anyway, moving right down that awkward Soup Nazi line (and do people move vertical or horizontal when confronted with this type of line? I tend to move like I am playing defense... I don't do the turn cuz then you have to turn back again). I see that my 4'6" cook has essentially run out of chicken, and thus, given me a.) about 8 chopped up pieces and b.) its the bottom of the barrel. Great. So I get 'em to throw the cheese on and suddenly, a guy behind the cooks wearing a black shirt (is he special?) and five tattoos, who disturbingly looks like a young Johnny 99 from 'Con Air' (I think it was Johnny 99... you know, the rapist) says to me, "Homey, are you in a good mood?" What the hell? So I say (with sarcasm loaded), "Just fantastic." Anyway, now that I am at the front of the line, the dude behind the counter checks out my plain burrito and fucking EXCLAIMS, "Ooh man, now THAT is a TINY burrito!" as if he is saying something about my manhood. He then goes on for about two minutes about how it is the tiniest burrito he's ever seen, it's a baby burrito, etc. He then grabs my burrito, shows it to Johnny 99, and says, "Hey, do we charge full price for this baby burrito?" He might as well have ripped my pants off, picked me up, and criticized Lil' Jig. Does Johnny 99 help me out? No, he fucks me. "Uhh... we can't do that." That's one baby burrito, $6.06. $6.06?!? At least have the decency to have your price be $5.98 or something! Now I gotta carry around $.94 fuckin' cents all day! Now I am Creepy Change Guy! "Oh yeah, Salvation Army bell ringer, I got some change for ya... if you'll only reach in my pocket and get it." Time it took to eat my baby burrito: 1.5 minutes. Message to Chipotle: Go Fuck Yourself.

-After my filling lunch, I went to the Illini Union to kill time before class. I went to the bathroom to blow my nose (I know, this story just keeps getting better and better). I grab some T.P. from the stall, look up, and see quite possibly the weirdest fuckin' restroom wall-writing I have ever seen (and I've seen some weird shit). Here ya go:

ANYONE REMEMBER ALL SAINTS?
YOU KNOW, THE BAND?

(new handwriting)

>Ya vaguely, didn't they suck? (in perhaps the first time anyone has ever written "vaguely" on a bathroom wall)

(new cursive handwriting)

Spice girl wannabes...sang "Never Ever"

Unbelievable. This is even gayer than the truck stop wall-writings that say things like, "Will suck a good dick for a ride to Dallas. Call 574-8764."

Well, that has been the start of my day... it can't get any stranger. Sorry for being one of those "my day" guys... it won't ever happen again.

From Sell-Outs to "Selling Out"

2005-11-28T20:00:00.000-06:00

As you might or might not know, I am in grad school for Advertising. In order to build up a respectable resume, you sometimes have to join clubs that you otherwise wouldn't necessarily join. For instance, I am in the American Advertising Federation (AAF... and I think that's what it's called). To be in the club, you have to be part of a committee. Once I checked out the committee list, I decided to pump the newsletter group so I could do more writing (and it seemed pretty easy). Lucky for me, I got to do the editorials, which are easily the funnest things to write. Anyway, the following is the editorial I just wrote for the newsletter... I thought it was funny, so here ya go for your own reading pleasure....

If you are like me, some of your greatest childhood memories (or memories in general) revolve around sports. It seems like a conversation like this always ran the 10-year olds’ lunch table at school: “The best player in football is Jerry Rice.” “No, it’s Barry Sanders!” “Are you kidding? No one can top Emmitt Smith!” And so on and so on.

But recently, companies have been trying to taint my positive memories of football’s past stars. In fact, it appears that the new hot trend in advertising is to use old, retired quarterbacks in TV commercials. What is the deal with this? Are these former athletes bored? Is retirement not as fun as they thought it would be? At any rate, in case you weren’t able to pay your Insight bill, here’s the rundown of what I’m talking about:

1. Joe Montana for FedEx. In the ad, Old Joe, in full football gear (jersey, pads, tight pants, everything) runs through an airport telling some guy about FedEx. This is one of the saddest things I have ever seen. We are talking about Joe Montana here. Could you imagine actually seeing this in a real airport? I would be thinking, “Wow, he took waaay too many hits to the head.” I really hope that he needed the money to pay for his kids’ college or to get a new Jacuzzi or something. The sight of a nearly 70-year-old Joe (give or take) wearing his game uniform a decade after he retired just reeks of desperation. You can almost hear him saying, “I’m still around! Remember me? I’m Joe Montana! Please don’t forget me... please!” Shame on you FedEx for making an old man embarrass himself nationally. Just for that, if I ever mail a package again I’m going UPS.

2. John Elway for Nextel. This ad conflicted me: I never liked Elway, but this commercial is hilarious. It starts off with Old Elway in a big, empty field (wearing his Pro Bowl jersey) throwing a football… to no one. He suddenly realizes this, slumps his shoulders, and slowly walks to retrieve the ball as the voice over says, “John Elway is a lonely guy.” Other scenes show Old Elway walking along the beach (alone), checking his Nextel cell phone (no messages), sipping a margarita at a bar (alone at a four-person table), and laughing at a movie (you guessed it… alone). Old Elway makes the ad a hit by acting truly surprised each time he finds himself alone. This is ‘The Godfather’ of old, retired quarterback commercials, as it humorously shows his “activities” upon retirement, rather than just being Old Elway with a smile.

3-4. Dan Marino for Papa John’s and Samsung. These ads aren’t as painful to watch as Old Joe, but they are more ridiculous. For Papa John’s, Old Dan is evidently in a pickup football game, and asks in a huddle, “Who wants to go deep?” Out of nowhere, Papa John himself exclaims, “I do!” in what might be the creepiest commercial line delivery of the last ten years. Doesn’t it seem like Papa is wasting their money by using Old Dan? Am I gonna think to myself, “Well... I really like Papa John’s, and I really like deep dish pizza, but I am not sure if I should get it or not. Holy crap! They got Dan Marino! I thought he was dead! Honey, call that number now! If he likes it, I’ll like it!” Wouldn’t you think that their brand new, deep dish pizza should be the focus?
For Samsung, Old Dan gives an MTV Cribs-style “tour of his home” in which he shows off that essentially every room in the house has a Samsung flat-screen TV in it. (I also am not buying that this is his real house. Don’t you imagine he would be pretty protective about who he would even let in his home? I bet he actually has real dolphins in it too). Old Dan concludes this house/TV tour by opening one last door to find… what?!?! More retired quarterbacks?!? Are you kidding me?!?! Nope, that would be Old Troy Aikman. Why ruin a good thing?

As you can probably guess, I am not a big fan of advertisers bringing back old quarterbacks into commercials. I already have my memories of them, so please let me keep these intact. I mean, what’s next, Old Larry Bird in a Celtics jersey? Old Vanilla Ice sporting the high-top fade? Old MC Hammer with his huge Old Hammer pants? Actually… that sounds familiar.

Random Thoughts I Had While Singing "Feelin' On Your Booty" in Muncie's Most Redneck Bar....

2005-11-23T16:54:00.000-06:00

I realize I'm a month late in bringing it up, but my favorite part of Halloween (besides the fun-size Snickers) are the 'Friday the 13th' and 'Halloween' movie marathons. (I don't like 'Nightmare on Elm St.' though... bad childhood experience). Essentially, 'Friday' and 'Halloween' have the same serial killer with different names: Jason and Michael Myers. Both guys don't talk, wear a mask, are incapable of running (which always cracks me up... seriously, RUN and you live... RUN!), and simply cannot die. But... Jason has a hockey mask and goes around the universe killin' with a machete, while Mike has some sort of mask that looks like a ninth-grade art project and typically only comes around at Halloween (hence the title) in Haddonfield, IL. Now, lemme get this straight... if you live in Haddonfield, and EVERY Halloween a crazed murderer with no discernible weakness outside of the 400m dash shows up, wouldn't you get the fuck out of town? Why the hell would you stay there, let alone let your kids go trick-or-treating?? Wouldn't the citizens realize this pattern? Hmmm, it looks like the county murder rate rises about 300000% on October 31st... ah well, gas is so expensive, we'll take our chances and stay in our neighborhood. Don't you think that the businesses would close too? They would have signs in the window that say "Bank Closed Due To Yearly Serial Killer Visit." Wouldn't the Haddonfield Times headlines say things like "Crazy Hal (short for Halloween) Killer Only Takes Out 14 This Year: Blames Arthritic Stabbing Hand"? And wouldn't it suck to be killed by a guy named Hal? Aren't guys named Hal solely mechanics or air conditioner repairmen?......

Surprisingly, the Champaign area has quite a few homeless people. Like most Americans, I don't give them anything besides the feeling of being ignored. (This is made even easier when you have an mp3 player too... then you don't even have to feel guilty by not responding to the, "Sir, do you have any change?" questions. Oh sorry, I didn't hear you, I was too into The Killers). Anyway, I made a realization of what group would make the best beggars. It is a group I couldn't say no to, and would in fact empty my wallet if they asked me to. That group? Sweet old ladies. What cold-hearted bastard would say no to a sweet old lady if she asked you for money? Seriously, put yourself in this situation: you are walking to class, and a sweet-looking, 68-year old grandmotherly figure looked you right into the eyes through her billboard-sized bifocals and said, "Excuse me, young man (or lady), could you spare some change?". Could you really say no? This would be like your grandma asking for a little help. Who doesn't like their grandma? Hell, who doesn't like any grandma? Have you ever come home from a friend's or girlfriend's family party and thought to yourself, "They were all really nice... except for that fuckin' grandma. She a bitch!". Of course not. Thank God old ladies haven't figured out this sure-to-be-successful tactic yet. If they did, they wouldn't ever have to be a greeter at Wal-Mart again....

Do you think that third-world countries know about what Americans do during Thanksgiving? Is this like a secret holiday? Don't you think that Ethiopians would be pissed if they knew how much the average American consumes on that certain Thursday in November? Honestly, I mean I'm not a big political guy by any means, but don't you think the idea of people getting the chance to eat so much that it actually makes them loosen their pants, nearly throw up, and tire themselves out to the point of napping would just infuriate them? Do you think Ethiopians have a Thanksgiving equivalent? The answer to this question of course, is no.....

Playas wanna play, ballas wanna ball, rollas wanna roll....

McDamnit!

2005-11-12T18:52:00.000-06:00

I've got a confession to make.

Over the course of the last few weeks, I have developed an addiction. Well, Jig, what's gotten you hooked? (I like asking myself questions in my blogs). Crack? Nah... too Harlem. Meth? Nah... too Kentucky. Midget porn? Nah... that's too... well, that's just too fuckin' weird. No... actually it's something that's far worse for my body: the McChicken sandwich from McDonald's.

Before the hate mail comes, let me explain myself. Because my apartment is so far away, I have to eat on campus three times a week between classes (or else I get in my "I'm about 46% hypoglycemic and I gotta eat or I can't see I'm so pissed" mood). Typically I pump a Qdoba burrito or a burger or Papa Dell's pizza... but these places aren't in the Illini Union. Oh no. Sometimes (be it the weather or homework), I just gots to go to the Union. A rundown of the Union's establishments: Julio's Overpriced Tacos (something like that), Giant Koala Bear Chinese, Giant Panda Chinese (to cover the two animals associated with Asia... and yes, there are two of these places), Sbarro: Pizza That Might or Might Not Have Rat Shit On It, and McDonald's. So naturally I don't have much choice.

Anyway, being stuck in the food equivalent of Bush vs. Kerry, I decided to pump McD's (what the cool kids call it) to try their new "Five-star chicken sandwiches" (and tell me exactly what highly-respected publication gave them five stars? Jimmy's KKK Newsletter? Homeless Guy Monthly? Hell, The McDonald's Times?). As I got to the register, I saw that the highly-touted McFivestars were also a McFuckinripoff. They were like $5. Who do they think they are, Wendy's? So, needing my chicken fix, I went with the $1 McChickens. And it has been love ever since. I gots to have 'em. Two in a row twice a week. Cheap. Good. Addictive. Artery Clogging. Hallucination Inducing. The McChicken... damnit! (right now I am hitting myself in the crotch)

The fact that I love the McChicken totally messes with my self-image. After all, I have talked more shit about McDonald's than any other restaurant. Oh, how can you eat there? It's disgusting! It'll make you fat! It's not even real beef! It's not even real chicken! Ethiopians would turn that shit away! As you can see, it hurts me to feel so contradictory. What the hell is happening to me? Between my newfound love for the sandwich and my completely unexpected fondness for Wal-Mart (which still makes me look in the mirror and say, "Is that you Jig?"), who is this man? What's next?!?! Am I gonna start rooting for the Lakers? Am I gonna get a Tom Brady jersey? Am I gonna buy tickets for Larry the Cable Guy and start saying "Git R Done" a lot? Am I gonna start thinking things like, "You know, thank God for that 'Brokeback Mountain' movie coming out, it's about time they made a gay cowboy film"? Am I gonna start eating casserole and drinking V8? Am I gonna start conversations with strangers by saying, "If you really think about it, Hitler wasn't that bad"? I don't know what to expect from myself.

Maybe I am thinking too much... after all, it's just a chicken sandwich... that I just gotta have... right now... damn, I'm gettin' the shakes...

Too Spurfect?

2005-11-03T18:25:00.000-06:00

After watching the Spurs play their first game of the season the other night, I felt totally satisfied. Naturally, we won by double digits (against the very good Nugs), I got to scream the nicknames I made up a lot, and the team was handed their championship rings before the game in a ceremony that gave me goosebumps. I couldn't feel better, right?

Well, not exactly. The more I thought about it, the less ecstatic I got. Honestly, this has been on my mind all day, with bits of Advertising 411 strung in there sporadically (I had an exam today). Well, Jig, what exactly is the problem then?

The Spurs are too good. All-Star teams have been less stacked. Everyone... and I mean everyone is picking them to win. I take that back. There are a few "experts" that are saying, "Well, I am gonna shock you and pick the ____ to dethrone the champs." But they are only saying this so there will be a little variety in their show, magazine, truck stop, whatnot. I mean, as if they weren't the biggest pumpers in the league last year, they got two (two!) former All-Stars with Mike "The Fin-isher" Finley and Nick Van "High Socks". They also picked up one of the biggest studs from Argentina's gold medal winning Olympic team, Fabricio "The LArgentinian" Oberto . Oh yeah, and these three pimps come off the bench.

I know, this sounds like the lamest bitching possible. Oh Jig, I feel sooo bad for your team that is on the brink of a dynasty! Having MVP Duncan, All-Star Ginobili, French wizard Parker, the best D-man Bowen and Big Shot Bob must really make you want to hit yourself in the crotch. But seriously though, this hurts me. Is this what it feels like to be a Yankees fan? How about the Patriots? I fuckin' HATE both of those teams. I don't want the Spurs to be hated.

But they aren't like the Yankees; they don't have a payroll that is $100 million over the salary cap. They don't just sign the next superstar to a ridiculous contract just because they have more money than God. The Spurs play by the rules. They have players take less money (!) to play for them (in the case of both Finisher and High Socks). Everyone in the league respects them and makes moves just to compete with them. And they have a group of guys that are genuinely good guys (especially buy NBA standards).

As much as I love to see them win, I don't want them to be like the Bulls were. I fuckin' HATED those Bulls teams in the mid-90's with Jordan. You knew they were gonna win... there was no question about it. There really was no point in playing the season. Barring a Mike injury (or in my case, Duncan), you knew they were gonna be poppin' the Moet come June.

That is my biggest fear for the season: the potential letdown. Basically, San Antonio is expected (such a harsh word if you think about it) to win the title. If they don't the season will be a wash, a disappointment, a failure. Hell, the key talk is, "How many games will they win? Can they surpass the old Bulls' record?". Personally, I don't like being the favorite. I prefer to be the underdog, which is what the Spurs typically have been. In '99, there were the Jazz or Kings that were supposed to win... then the Lakers came along, with their Fat Shaq/Kobe/Phil/Perfect role players and cruised to three straight trophies.

In all of my life, these Lakers were the teams that I fuckin' hated the most. I get pissed just thinking about them. These were the squads that would just toy with you for three quarters, give you hope for an upset, lift your spirits, make you think things like, "You know, this might be our year!" But then the final period started, and quicker than you could say, "I wonder how our championship shirts are gonna look?", it was over. A Kobe three. A Fat Shaq dunk or two. An Horry three. A Fisher three. A Kobe steal and dunk. They simply ripped your hearts out... and loved to do it. There was no drama, it was just a matter of when they decided to start playing. This is exactly why, in 2003, when the Spurs knocked the Lakers out of the playoffs, it was so satisfying. THEY were supposed to win again. WE were supposed to choke again. But we didn't. At the end of that clinching game (in L.A. even), when the camera panned down the Lakers bench and focused on Kobe crying... CRYING!... it was one of the greatest moments of my life. I am not even joking. Basically, I don't want a fan of another team to have this feeling toward the Spurs.

This leads me to what I am trying to say... and as hard as it is to admit... we are now those Lakers. On Tuesday, the Nugs lead pretty much the whole game. They played well and the confidence was certainly there. That is, for three quarters. Once the fourth came it was lights out. S.A. outscored Denver by 14. Ballgame, have a safe flight back.

Is it possible I am reading too much into this? Maybe. It is just the start of the season and tons of things could happen. Injuries, slumps, terrorist attacks... who knows. If by chance, San Antonio does go to the Finals and takes it again, of course I will be excited. I will scream, cheer, cuss, possibly cry. But, unfortunately, I will also feel relief. Relief that we didn't choke, that everything went as it was supposed to. Unfortunately, relief isn't very much fun.

The Only Time I Won't Complain About a Repeat

2005-10-31T14:30:00.000-06:00

As November creeps closer, the world of sports starts to change. Baseball comes to a close, football is halfway through, and hockey is... well, who the hell cares where hockey is. This means one thing: BASKETBALL SEASON IS STARTING!!!! (Can you sense my excitement?)

It is this time of year (as well as in March and during the Playoffs) that I become happier to see men sweating in shorts than Richard Simmons. My Spurs are defending their title, got even more stacked during the off-season, and are the favorites to win it again. Therefore, having a slightly-better-than-Bill-Walton-basketball mind, I give to you "Jig's 1st Annual NBA Preview".

I will start off with "Teams That Suck and Won't Make the Playoffs" (sorry, but I played for a suck team too, accept it). These teams are in order from "Oh My Lord I Would Rather Slit My Sack than Watch Them Play" to "Sooo Close but Not Quite Mediocre":

14. New Orleans Hornets: As if Katrina weren't bad enough, the poor bastards also have the worst team in the league.
13. Toronto Raptors: Basketball + Canada = For the love of God, why?
12. Charlotte Bobcats: Only in their second year of existence. At least when I was two I learned to crap in a toilet.
11. Portland Trail Blazers: I liked it better when everybody on their team was high; at least they were funny and bad rather than just bad.
10. Atlanta Hawks: RIP Jason Collier.
9. L.A. Clippers: At least they had a better record than the Lakers last year.
8. Milwaukee Bucks: This is what you get for drafting a tall WHITE guy with the first pick. Rule #1: NEVER draft a tall white guy.
7. Boston Celtics: I love Nigga Rick Davis... all I gotta say.
6. Orlando Magic: Over/under on Grant Hill's season: 30 games.
5. New York Knicks: One word: Isiah.
4. L.A. Lakers: L.A. won't make the playoffs again. That was fun, I gotta say it some more... the Lakers won't make the playoffs. The Lakers won't make the playoffs. The Lakers won't...
3. Utah Jazz: You do, however, have to love a team of crackers.
2. Minnesota Timberwolves: You know that KG is hitting himself in the crotch before each game. At least he gets a Best Buy discount, though.
1. Golden State Warriors: They will score about 130 a game, but give up 132.

Ok, time for the real players: how the Playoffs will break down (by seeds):
Eastern Conference:
1. Indiana Pacers: Assuming CARA - Crazy Assed Ron Artest - (I like the new feminine nickname I just gave him) doesn't go all Roy Jones Jr. in the stands again.
2. Miami Heat: Although each season I hope for a Fat Shaq Heart Attack, it never happens (please let this be the season... and yes, I am going to Hell).
3. New Jersey Nets: There's not a player on this roster that I like. Couldn't Hov co-own the Spurs or something?
4. Detroit Pistons: No more Finals for you! (in the Soup Nazi voice... and yes I realize how gay that joke was)
5. Cleveland Cavs: Lebron and his Bubblicious flavor actually get to the Playoffs (but deep down, you know he misses Nigga Rick).
6. Chicago Bulls: They hope to pull a White Sox rather than a Cubs (any unprovoked Cubs diss I love).
7. Washington Wizards: Gil Arenas is one of my favorites, but why the hell would you ever want to be #0? I was #0 when I played Boy's Club basketball. I was the only white kid on the team. Was that a signal? (but hey, I did start every game)
8. Philadelphia 76ers: How many years can AI continually get the shit beat out of him? Oh well, at least he has cool shoes.

Western Conference:
1. San Antonio Spurs: What did you expect me to say? Even if I weren't biased, tell me who the hell is gonna beat them?
2. Denver Nugs: Does anyone call them the Nugs? I like that name.
3. Phoenix Suns: No Amare for a while (thank God), but they still got Nash. Do you think when he gets sad, he just thinks about the time he banged Elizabeth Hurley? I would.
4. Houston Rockets: Their jerseys look like the Chinese National Team.
5. Dallas Mavs: I love Coach Avery Johnson. I love Dirk "Diggler" Nowitzki. But Shawn Bradley retired. He was their heart and soul. He set the tone for their games, both on offense and defense. He got the most (and hottest) groupies, flew the team charter, and cooked pregame meals. As much as losing Nash and Finley hurt, this stings worse.
6. Sactown Kings: They got Bonzi Wells in the off-season. Did I ever tell you about the time I saw him naked?
7. Seattle Sonics: Lots of shooting the 3... not very much of playing the D.
8. Memphis Grizzlies: This will be, what, like their 7th straight year of getting the 8th seed?

East Playoff Breakdown:
The Pacers beat the 76ers and the Pistons.
Heat defeat the Wiz and the Bulls.

Eastern Conference Final:
Pacers vs. Heat: I gotta go with Indiana, but under three considerations...
1. CARA plays all year.
2. Heat can't get enough shots all the way around.
3. Fat Shaq has a heart attack.

West Playoff Breakdown:
Spurs beat the Grizz and the Mavs.
Suns take down the Kings and the Nugs.

Western Conference Final:
Spurs vs. Suns
Spurs win despite another scary ass series from Amare "I Have the Whole Book of Ephesians and an Entire Tupac Song Tattooed on Me" Stoudemire. At some point during the season, he will break a hand from dunking.

NBA FINALS:
Spurs vs. Pacers
This is the one I have been waiting a long time for. Not so much cuz I like the Pacers, but because I will be able to see a game in person. This series will test loyalties, friendships, and checking accounts. Robert "Boom Shake the Room" Horry will pump a winning shot. CARA and Bruce "The Raper" Bowen will have a defensive Civil War. Reggie "Volleyball Bitch" Miller will be in the studio rather than on the court. The Spurs will win in six games. I will cry (from happiness), Chuck will cry (from sadness), and I will have another five months of bragging rights. It's a Dynasty, bitches!

Desperate Times Call For You Know What...

2005-10-26T18:52:00.000-05:00

Shortly after I moved to Champaign, something was following me. What exactly?

Junk mail.

You can't avoid it. Where ever you go, it knows where to find you. Typically it consists of credit card applications, cable company fliers, and those post card-looking things that on one side show a child that has been kidnapped and on the other side have coupons for Domino's Pizza (I have never understood this. What is our thought process supposed to be? "Ah, that's too bad little Jimmy was taken on his way to school....(flip card over)...Kick ass! Two large pepperonis for $10.99!").

Anyway, between throwing this crap away, a local flier caught my eye (despite being addressed to 'Resident'). It was from the Grace Community Church in Champaign. The back of it was interesting; it showed the familiar-to-TV-watchers picture of a bright blue sky with pretty white clouds with a white picket fence underneath. Between the fence and the sky, it said "Desperate Households"...obviously a ripoff of the despite-the-chicks-being-pretty-old-I-would-still-pump-them show 'Desperate Housewives'. The tagline on the card said "Things are not always as they seem." Ok, I will give this church points for attempting to be hip. At least it isn't boring. So I open it up... and this is what follows, with my thoughts and comments in italics... (mind you I have kept this on my fridge for two months, so if it is dated that is why)... enjoy.....

"Desperate Households
Beginning September 11 at Grace Community

Fall has arrived, and looking down on Wisteria Lane we find perfect homes in the loveliest of suburbs. (as I said, trying to be hip, kudos I guess) But it is plain that things are not always what they seem.
Grace Community presents 'Desperate Households', a series about finding God in the desperate grind of everyday life. (seems relevant, not a bad tie in)

9/11: Desperate Lives - Four years after 9/11 (I guess that makes sense, people still might be sad about that)

9/18: Desperate Singles - Making it in the dating scene (I think it would take a long time for me to consider myself desperate, but I see where they are going)

9/25: Desperate Men- The friendless American male (What? Completely friendless? Who doesn't have ONE friend? Even homeless guys have one friend. Let me get this straight... if you are friendless, you will accept anyone as your friend, right? But wouldn't it be a friend that would even tell you about a meeting like this in the first place? Does Champaign have the highest per-capita in the nation of guys that have zero friends? Could you imagine the mindset of the dudes that go to this? It would either be something like, "Yey! I am going to actually make a friend tonight!" or "Son of a bitch... I can't believe my life has come to this.")

10/2: Desperate Women - Finding feminine satisfaction (What the hell?!?! I wish I were making this up. Can you even talk about this in church? I wouldn't be comfortable with this on the Playboy channel. Make your own jokes about this one...)

10/9: Desperate Parents - How to survive the kids (This also makes sense. It could have been potentially entertaining though hearing parents say things like, "You know, I considered slitting little Kenny's throat while he slept, but then I went to 'Desperate Men - The friendless American male', and met this guy named Tony and he talked me out of it.")

10/16: The Long Desperate Walk - Finding God in everyday life" (Not touching this one for fear of Hell...this is the best idea out of the six)

Not a fantastic story, but I thought it was funny. It's not everyday you get something like this in the mail. I can't wait for the church's next TV-related ripoff...my money is on 'Lost'.

Random Thoughts I Had While Using Roughly 752 Kleenexs in the Past Three Days...

2005-10-20T15:40:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to come clean before it got leaked by the papers: I nearly single-handedly lost it for the Colts on Monday. Why, you might ask? Well, I broke out my Peyton jersey. You see...the damn thing is jinxed. Lemme explain...I bought it last season right before we played New England in the playoffs, thinking to myself, "This is our year to kick some Tom Brady-pretty boy ass!" (and you know how that turned out...it just kills me to say it, but the Patriots own us like it's 19th century Georgia). Jersey record: 0-1. Fast forward to 2005 season...we are 5-0 and going up against the Rams at home, where we are looking about as beatable as Ruben Studdard in a hoagie-eating contest. Naturally, it was time to give the Peyton jersey another chance (actually I would have worn it earlier in the season, but forgot that I owned it...ha). Anyway, I put it on, crack open a bottle of water (too sick to drink beer) and within a blink of an eye, we are down 17-0. 17-0?!? In the first quarter?!?! Great, I just haaad to don #18. Way to go Jig (I then hit myself in the crotch). Well, I decided to leave Big Blue on and we finally turned it around and starting whipping some Ram ass (and take THAT cocky blind guy I met at the wine tasting!). Jersey record now: 1-1. (Funny story: for whatever reason, I talked to my mom at halftime about me jinxing my Ponies, and she said, "And isn't someone on the Colts on the cover of Sports Illustrated this week?" My mom knows about the S.I. curse? How cool is that? I was a proud son.)....

You know what the greatest invention of all time is? No, not the penis enlargement patch (uh hmm...wait, he doesn't even read these...isn't that right, Mr. Seth "Spud" Walradth of West Lafayette, IN, son of Larry and Tracy Walradth), but close....MEDICINE! Nothing...NOTHING beats medicine! And you know what? No one ever talks about this! Why not? Why doesn't medicine get the respect it deserves? I mean, I have felt like utter shit the last 5 days, pumped some pills the doc gave me, and now feel pretty damn good. Isn't this kind of a miracle? All you ever hear about medicine is how expensive it is, and why didn't I get any refills, and Medicare, blah, blah, blah. I think everyone needs to just sit down a look at a pill. Study it. Can anyone even tell me what is in any sort of pill? Oh sure, you can look at the ingredients on the box and mispronounce the words, but you have no fucking idea what it is. How do they even get made? Who decides what's in them? What percentage of what compound? How much trial and error do the doctors/pharmacists/scientists have to do? If you really think about it, it's truly amazing. Don't you think the early medicine makers were like rock stars, with groupies and everything? "Oh doc, you gave me this pill and now my head feels less achey! Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes and leave your pants in the office." Subsequently, this lead to the search for treatments of syphilis....

My Favorite Story Through Observation of the Week: While waiting at the McKinley Health Center (U of I's far superior version of PUSH), this large-ass (I'm talkin' 6-5, 275 lbs), soft-spoken Indian man walked nervously to the lady at the receptionist desk. Actual conversation follows:
Giant Indian: "Umm...where can I....uh....douhjanuja (incomprehensible mumbling and I think he's sweating)......where can I get some birth control?" (Looks relieved that he didn't have to publicly say the C-word)
Receptionist: "Umm...(looks perplexed, wondering what he is gonna do with Orthotri-cyclen, before realizing)....condoms?" (Bullseye!)
Giant Indian: "Yes." (In possibly the quickest response in conversation history)
Receptionist: "Go straight, take a right, and then go down the hall all the way. On the left there will be a counter. Just ask them." (Oh boy, I would have loved to hear that conversation).....

You know some phrases that you don't really think much about? You know, you say them but don't consider their meanings? I made a recent discovery this week...the phrase? "Getting the shaft." Have you ever considered the implications of this phrase? Am I alone on this? I used to just think of "Getting the shaft" the same as "Getting screwed" or "Getting a raw deal"...I didn't put much thought into it, but obviously someone is not getting things like they want. But "Getting the shaft"? Could the penis reference be more clear? The fucking shaft?!?! Why not, "Taking the head" or "Poked by the knob"? Don't young school children say this? I am pretty sure it was in a coloring book when I was like 7: Billy the Bunny tried to be friends with Timmy the Turtle, but Timmy didn't want to be friends. Timmy was giving Billy the shaft......

I ain't sayin' she's a golddigger, but she ain't messin' with no broke niggas....

2005-10-16T17:20:00.000-05:00

Should I Check My Neck?

Wal-Mart.

If you are like me, these words conjure up many images. And if you are like me, these visual pictures are either slightly disturbing, negative, or hysterically funny. Let us just see...there's the very large Looney Tunes shirt and should-be-larger pink stretch pants on the 300-lb woman (who might or might not be on the motorized cart) with armfuls of peanut butter and Dr. Pepper....there's the wife-beater wearing dad (with so many tattoos he makes makes Dennis Rodman look like a pussy) instructing his fourth-grade son, "No, boy, you put the chew below your lip"....there's the mom just beating the shit out of her "I want beef jerky!"-screaming son with whatever kitchen utensil/large toy is nearby...and let's not forget the guy in the camo jacket visibly carrying a knife (there's always a guy carrying a knife).

So Jig, we all know this is the typical thing you see when you go to Wal-Mart, so why write about it? Well...it totally pains me to say this, to the point where I want to repeatedly hit myself in the crotch with a sledgehammer, but since moving to Champaign (whew...deep breath...keep going) I have become a Wal-Mart man. [At this moment I am banging my head on the desk in between sticking my tongue on a lit candle and just whaling on my crotch with that sledgehammer]

Don't get me wrong, when I go ANYWHERE outside of my current residence, Target is the spot. After all, I have been very pro-Target my whole life, and for two years was actually the Vice President of the 'I Hate Wal-Mart' club. But not here. It truly is astounding...the Champaign Wal-Mart (CWM for the remainder of the blog) should be the standard by which all other WM stores strive to be like. This is the Mike Jordan, 'The Godfather', the "Lost" of Wal-Marts (did that last comparison make sense? I dunno...let's just say it's good). The place is huge, well lit (a very underrated characteristic), has a relatively low amount of rednecks and most importantly...it's fuckin' cheap! Honestly, it's about the only place I get anything.

On top of the price saving benefits (my name is now Papaw), it is still a Wal-Mart, so there is still potential comedy in each aisle. After all, I said the white trash percentage was pretty low...it wasn't as if they just disappeared completely (like Cubs hats on campus now that the White Sox are pumping it). So naturally, here are two of the many stories I have already in my journeys to the CWM, one good and one uncomfortable (but still good).

Good Story: I was waiting in line behind an Indian father and his two or three-year-old daughter at the cash register. There was a fire extinguisher on a post by the cart the child is sitting in. The little girl then decides to rip off the "inspected by" tag attached to it (aren't these important? Couldn't someone potentially be fired if it's missing?). She then hands the tag to her dad, who was paying no attention to this. Once he sees the tag, he absolutely freezes and locks eyes with me, giving one of those, "Shit, I'm caught!" looks that I haven't seen since Mrs. Goble caught my buddy Meat checking his e-mail on one of the school's computers. He then shoved the tag in his pocket like it was an out-in-the-open bag of crack and essentially ran out of the store (I don't think he even paid).

Uncomfortable Story: After getting my oil changed at the CWM, I had to go to this tiny outhouse-looking building in the middle of the oil change parking lot (why they have this, I don't know). So I go up to the girl working there and have this actual conversation:
Me: "I need to pick up my keys from you, I guess."
WM Girl: "Okay, just a second.."
[A new WM Girl suddenly appears, who looks like what Rosie O'Donnell would have looked like at 20]
WM Girl 2 (Rosie): "Oh, sorry...I ate them."
(Hmm...I guess that would explain the missing teeth. I hope she stops this flirting)
Me: (not knowing what to say) "Uhhh...did you?"
WM Girl: "She did, I saw it."
WM Girl 2 (Rosie): "Yep." (She then smiles with the satisfaction that this is the type of flirting that got Angelina Jole Brad Pitt)
Me: (growing increasingly more uncomfortable, considering abandoning the car and taking the bus) "Uhh...(very awkward laugh)...can I have my keys?"

So let the good prices and the weird-ass stories continue. And to Target....I am sorry.

2005-10-09T21:32:00.000-05:00

And finally...the Foo Fighters.

Since I hadn't seen them live before, they were pretty much the reason I went to the show. And they wasted no time in getting to the ass-kickin'. They opened with "In Your Honor", a loud head thrash of a song. Actually, it was almost too loud (this is the portion of the column where I sound like a 70 year old man...sponsored by Cialis). I couldn't imagine being down by the big speakers or amplifiers or whatever the hell they are called (obviously I never worked at Best Buy). I mean, the bass was pumpin' so strong that I checked my cell phone because I thought it was vibrating...and it was, but not because I was getting any calls....it continued to feel like that until the song was over.

Song selection-wise, I couldn't have picked a much better set. It was more or less all the songs I had downloaded (but louder and more bad ass), "All My Life", "My Hero", "The One", "The Best of You", "Learn to Fly" amongst others. For me, the best part of the Foo (or should their shortened name be 'The Fighters'? I dunno) is the Grohl Scream. I love the Grohl Scream. Is there anyone better at screaming than him? He makes it melodic, kinda funny and bad ass. I have gotten hoarse just screaming along with him to "All My Life" in my car (speaking of which, I do think I have one of the better screaming voices that I have heard...especially when I yell "You're Gonna Die!!" out the window). In fact, I had trouble talking after the show as a result of my Scream-along with Grohl (or Dr. G, as he referred to himself).
[New sudden scent from behind my row....cookies. Cookies? Am I getting the second-hand munchies?]

Now, it's time for 'Something Good and Something Bad About Dave Grohl During the Show"
-Good: Halfway through "Times Like These", he decided to explore the space of Assembly Hall. Grohl started walking into the crowd; he went by the first row and up into the stands, walking along the railing part of the first row, then climbing another row and walking along that rail (the whole time being trailed by the Security guy, who just looked pissed that he had to do this, swatting at everyone who was trying to touch Grohl...this was hilarious). During his walk, everyone in the building was thinking to themselves, "Holy crap! Maybe he'll come over here!" (I thought this too, even though he probably would have suffered a massive heart attack getting to my seats). This was just a really cool thing to do...unnecessary, but the fans loved it.
-Bad: Grohl is a funny guy...I have seen interviews with him and his music videos are always pretty entertaining. Therefore, I was expecting some decent jokes during the show....not so much. He said a couple somewhat funny things, but most of his in-between filler sounded something like, "Well, shit...fuckin' hot in here. Fuckin' shit. Fuck, we are gonna play some fuckin' shit here. You'll love this shit...fuck. Here we fuckin' go!" I mean, I got no problem with cussing for humor, but it should be done to accentuate the jokes, not solely be them. Disappointed in that...

Like every other Foo fan, I wanted to hear "Everlong" more than anything. It's one of my Top Ten favorite songs...but within it lied a dilemna....they were just rockin the fuckin' shit, I mean totally pumpin' it hard-wise. But...I absolutely love the acoustic version of "Everlong". So deciding which version I wanted to hear was like picking which thong I want Kiera Knightley to wear when we film 'Trois 4'. So when the time came, Grohl said, "Can I get some dramatic lighting?", totally signaling an acoustic version. It was and it was unbelievable....I was a Spurs highlight video away from crying. Just as I thought it couldn't possibly get any better, it did...during the last verse of the song, he faded midway through, where the full band appeared and just started pumping the hard ass version of the song. I couldn't have been happier....honestly, the best song I have ever heard live....I am getting those neck-chills just thinking about it right now....

The boys finished with "Monkey Wrench", a song I didn't know since I wasn't a big alternative fan when that came out. Overall, they "fuckin' kicked fuckin' ass".....I couldn't talk, I was sweating like Patrick Ewing, and I needed water like the desert, but it was maybe....probably....it was...the best show I have seen.

2005-10-07T13:15:00.000-05:00

Next up: Weezer

My favorite geek band came out to a decent welcome and started up with "My Name is Jonas" (the most overrated Weezer song in my opinion). At this point, I stood up, expecting to be standing the remainder of the show. As they played a couple of familiar songs ("Dope Nose") and new ones ("Best Friend"), it wasn't really as pumpin' as what you would expect. Hell, I sat back down even. It wasn't until "El Scorcho" was played that ass started to be kicked, and I was subsequently up faster than a 14-year old at Deja Vu.

"Scorcho" provided the most interesting/strangest Rivers Cuomo part of the night (who was also sans glasses...I was impressed with myself for being able to see that from Mount Fuji). As Rivers was singing the song, he was just flailing his arms around like a crackhead trying to get out of a straightjacket and kicking imaginary things on the ground. He looked like that kid you see in Toys 'R Us that starts throwing a tantrum cuz his parents won't get him the Ninja Turtles backpack (i.e. me 14 years ago). He looked genuinely pissed from high up, but as my I-got-good-seats neighbor put it, the way was acting made it look like,"He hates that song and he hates himself." That might explain why he didn't play anymore Pinkerton songs (their best album....I was bummed).
[New sudden scent from behind my row....ganja. Are you kidding me?? This isn't Phish!]

The "first" ending of the show was badass; Rivers and the other guitarists actually played the drums, while the drummer played guitar and sang. Like it always goes, they left, were encored back on, to which Rivers miraculously appeared at the back of the floor area, right in front of the first sectioned rows to sing "Island in the Sun" on acoustic (which was cool, but it got me wondering....obviously Rivers, planning on being encored, got his guitar, setup and microphone to the other side of the arena to play for his crowd that "just wanted more"...but...what if, after the "first" ending, the crowd just went home? No more cheering, just an "Eehh, it was ok...do you have the car keys? We can still make it home in time for Survivor." Is the planned encore a little presumptuous on the band's part? What if it blew up in Rivers' face? Isn't that possible?).

Anyway, after Rivers finished his song, the band had a poorly acted, "Rivers is sooo far away, and we need someone to come up here and play guitar for 'Sweater Song'. Can we get a volunteer?" After a minute of so, the band picked out some random guy to go on stage. This ended up being the most "What the Hell?" part of the night (and from now on, I will refer to the Dude Picked Out from the Audience as What The Hell? Guy). So immediately upon going up, WTH? guy gives it the "What's up, Champaign!" into the microphone, then starts just cockin' on the guitar, strutting about back and forth on the stage, bending down to the crowd and hugging the rest of the band....basically like he owns the fuckin' place. The best part occurred when Rivers finally got back on the stage to actually sing the song that was being played...just as he is about to walk up to the mic, WTH? guy steps in front of him (spotlight and all) and starts pumpin that guitar again. I'll give WTH? guy credit for being a fine guitarist, but you don't step in front of the lead singer when he's about to start the song! Could you imagine if this would have happened with any other band? What if Jagger were in this situation? Steven Tyler? Hell, "Give Me Peace or Give Me an Endorsement with Ipod" Bono even wouldn't allow this! But since Weezer is pretty low on the ass-kicker scale, Rivers pretty much let it slide until the crowd got fussy. (My favorite quotes shouted at WTH? guy: "Get the fuck off the stage, you douchebag!", "I didn't pay to see you, motherfucker!"...you gotta love the hostility).

Once "Sweater Song" was complete (and naturally, WTH? guy had to throw in the "doodoot" chantings at the end), Rivers kind of uncomfortably gave WTH? guy the guitar he had played. The hint to this being: get off the damn stage. Did WTH? guy get this hint? NOPE! A tech guy or roadie or whatever the hell they are had to corral him off so they could finish with "Hash Pipe". So, overall it (despite WTH? guy's best efforts) Weezer did a good job. It wasn't nearly as good as the first time I saw them (lack of Pinkerton contributed), but totally worth seeing....next up, Foo Fighters.....

2005-10-05T17:55:00.000-05:00

Last night provided one of the best rock pairings I could have put together: the Foo Fighters and Weezer at Assembly Hall. There I was....high above the crowd (but not that high, there really isn't a bad seat in the house...that is unless you are behind the stage like I was the time I saw Dave Matthews there), with no one to my left or to my right. So, once the lights went down at 7:30, I was ready...to be rocked. I will breakdown the show in three parts, one for each band (as I feel that my blogs have run pretty long lately). So without further ado...

Opening up....the Kaiser Chiefs:
I always feel bad for the opening act. Obviously they aren't as well known as the headliner (or else they wouldn't be the opening act). Whenever they play, the place is only typically about half full, with about half of them either text messaging someone or going to the bathroom. Not only this, but the crowd is never into it...doesn't matter how hard they try.

Anyway, I couldn't recall hearing anything by them, but I was interested in hearing what they were like, since I know of people that would blow them if they could; too bad for the Chiefs, none of them were at this show. They played probably five or six songs, of which the only words I could pick up were, "Nanananana" and "Saturday night". But on the bright side....the boys brought out the cowbell....the cowbell! But on the negative side...they used it on more than one song. I mean, come on douchebags, the novelty (and the subsequent "I need more cowbell!" jokes) can only work for one song.
[Sudden scent from behind my row....Cigarettes. Damnit!]

As if I already didn't feel bad enough for these guys, it got worse. At one point, the lead singer stood out on this platform that was basically right on the front row of the main floor. His intention of doing this was so he could be "Rock God Numero Uno" and let the fans mob his lower half. Now, if this were any other lead singer (with the exception of maybe Milli Vanilli), the crowd would have been in a frenzy to touch him any place they could. Alas, the poor bastard had about five pair of hands reaching out, but then those hands kinda died down to the point where only one hand was up (and I think she was stretching).

The Chiefs closed with the "OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" song that I had heard before. I like that song pretty well, but it prompted me to think if there were any other songs that had "OH MY GOD" in the chorus. I couldn't think of any, so I started wondering if there were any commercials that it might have appeared in, such as, "OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT BUTTER!" or "OH MY GOD I'VE FALLEN AND I CAN'T GET UP!". But something that kind of bothers me about the song though is the next line, which goes, "I've never been this far away from home." This statement doesn't really seem like one that warrants such a passionate phrase beforehand...it's a little bit tame. So naturally, I started thinking of followup sentences that might be more appropriate for the outrage, such as, "OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! I backed over grandma with the Cherokee!" or "My wife sucked a homeless guy's dick for coke!" or "The baby wasn't mine all along!" I think these fit much, much better.

So overall, I wasn't diggin' the Chiefs that much (although it does take me awhile to warm up to bands). Next up....Weezer....

2005-10-03T21:14:00.000-05:00

Random thoughts I had while sipping the cheapest wine Wal-Mart sells.....

Recalling my favorite moment of the day: during one of my classes, a girl a couple of rows in front of me got up to go "powder her nose" or Lord knows what. Why is this interesting? Well, the rows/seats in this particular class room are so close and narrow, there is literally about a white man's peepee-sized space to squeeze by. I'm not exactly Ronald "Titty" Kirkman in height, and my knees hit the seat in front of me. Anyway, said exiting girl was also wearing a skirt so short, that if one were to videotape her, the footage could only run uncensored on Cinemax. As she was attempting to fit through the row, she accidently was just grinding the guy at the end of the row, to the point that his hand was totally feeling some cheekage (which I could also see...cha-ching). Once she finally cleared the row, the end-of-row-guy totally changed his position in his seat, and I think crossed his legs (no easy feat in that space). I would have given $50 for someone to pull the fire alarm at that moment....I guarantee he woulda been the last one out....

Things I love at the co-rec:
1.) The Hooded Sweatshirt Fat Guy: This is the dude that has finally decided to start working out after about 28 years of eating meatballs by the pound and brushing his teeth with Hershey's chocolate syrup. He is the only person in the co-rec wearing a hoodie when it is 85 degrees outside; if he were to wear a T-shirt like everyone else, then the mass of exercisers in the building would see his blubber (especially the man boobs) bounce and jiggle like a pre-Trimspa Anna Nicole Smith, single-handedly inducing more vomiting than the Kathy Bates nude scene in 'About Schmidt'.
2.) The Foreign Guy Who Doesn't Know What Americans Wear To Work Out: This guy comes in sporting a soccer jersey (I'll give him that...I guess), cargo shorts (if not cargo pants), a gold chain that would make the Big Tymers jealous, and sandals....and I don't mean Adidas or Nike sandals...oh no...I'm talking about old school, cardboard-and-leather sandals....Jerusalem sandals. And what does this guy do? He runs! How the hell can you run in those?!? Not even Jesus could run in those.
3.) The Co-rec Supplied Music: I bring my own mp3 player, and for good reason. I heard one song...just one....while I was stretching and my player wasn't yet turned on...care to guess what it was? Uptown Girl. Uptown Girl?!?! How the hell can you work out to that? Not even Greg Louganis did that....how would that go? Ohhh, come on, just four more....push it....six...seven....eight....she's been livin' in her uptown world....damn you Billy Joel!...

Just one time....just once....I wanna hear about a student who goes for a Semester Abroad and absolutely HATES it. I mean, has the worst time of their fuckin' lives, to the point where on more than one occasion, they had to be talked down from the top of a building. Has ANYONE met somebody who didn't have the time of their lives? Now, I have nothing against those who go (and subsequently enjoy it....after all, I would have kinda liked to do it), but it seems like some kids are just trying too hard to convince their friends it was great. Case in point: while walking to class, I overheard a guy talking to his friend about his experience..."Yeah, I went to London last semester for Study Abroad....it was fuckin' great, man....dude, it's soooo much better there than it is here....those British blokes really know how to suck a dick." Ok, so I made that last sentence up, but you get my point. How about we send a Philosophy major to Iraq to study and see if he comes back bragging about his "enlightening experience"......

Done, done, on to the next one.....

2005-09-30T16:30:00.000-05:00

The new TV season has started...which makes me both happy and very pissed. Previously, I had just a couple of shows that I watched regularly....'Jack' (otherwise known as '24' to those who live outside of 229 Littleton Apt. 6) and 'Arrested Development' (the FUNNIEST and BEST show on TV...Mondays on FOX). Typically, I don't get to watch my shows live, so taping these two was never too arduous a task (although I always have to remind my papi, "Nigga Dan", to record 'Deadwood' for me since I don't get HBO). Anyway, the fall season of 2005 arrives, and BOOYAH!....there are quite a few pimp shows now and as a result, my VCR (and not TiVo...eat a dick to all those so fortunate) is now gonna explode, probably around Thanksgiving....so now, I give you the new shows that I have been watching....

-'Prison Break', FOX on Mondays
I have seen every episode of this thus far....even though it is starting to get pretty ri-damn-diculous (I have always wanted to write that out). A dude with the real-life name of Wentworth (I think his parents already had him picked out to be a butler when he was born) plays....I am so bad with names, let's go with Louie...Louie, a man who purposely goes to jail to break out his on-death-row brother. Basically, this show suffers from a couple of things:
a.) it is on network TV, which means it can't be realistic whatsoever....I mean, the crudest word thus far as been "ass". I think the dialogue went something like:
Prisoner A: "I'm gonna kick that guard's ass."
Prisoner B: "Hey! Watch your darn language! This is a prison, not a rodeo!"
'Oz' was a far superior prison drama (you can get away with anything on HBO). After all, 'Prison Break' doesn't give us what we as a audience really needs from a realistic prison show like 'Oz': an over-the-top amout of cussing (especially "Fuck" being used in every possible context...such as, "Fuck me? Fuck me? No...fuck you, you fuckin' fuck!"....I'm not really making that up), lots of shankings and stabbings, and the occasional shower rape (can't go wrong with the shower rape!).
b.) the death row brother is unbelievably uninteresting. Each time the show cuts to scenes involving him or his kinda-cute/equally boring lawyer, I stop paying attention and start thinking about what is going on in the prison with Wentworth. I truly have no clue what is going on in that subplot.
Speaking of Wentworth....the man is a curiosity to me....he looks like one of those pussy-ass pretty boys (you know, one of those guys who gets angry because his collar doesn't pop high enough), but is actually pretty bad ass. It is truly shocking...after all, this guy was in a Mariah Carey video recently. Doesn't exactly scream "hard ass", but he pulls it off. He is pretty much the only reason I still watch the show (does that sounds gay? maybe a little...). I am giving it about two more episodes to get better. Grade: B- (and dropping)

-'My Name is Earl', NBC on Tuesdays
This show is comic gold. Kevin Smith-cronie Jason Lee plays Earl, who is essentially a redneck thief with a haircut reminiscent of my buddy Spud's our Junior year, and a mustache that would make Tom Selleck cower in shame. He wins the lottery, immediately gets hit by a car, and in the hospital sees an interview with Carson Daly discussing 'karma' (once again..not making this up). This inspires Earl to be a good guy, and thus, makes a list of people he has wronged that he needs to visit to make right. Great premise, hilarious show. And any sitcom with a character by the name of Crab Man is fine by me. Grade: A-

-Lost, ABC on Wednesdays
Ok, so I am a little behind on this. I am currently about 75% of the way through season one (thank God for TV on DVD). Let me say a few things about what I have seen thus far (and I have taped, but haven't seen any of season two yet):
-I like Matthew Fox, but each time he talks (I mean, each time) his voice throws me off. Seeing how he basically plays the leader of the camp, one would expect him to have a bad ass, Bruce Willis-whispery type voice....nope! It comes off as kind of a pushover, "please don't look at me" voice. Hearing him talk for the first time was kind of like hearing Mike Tyson talk for the first time....totally NOT what I expected. (other surprising voices: Tim Duncan, Avery Johnson, Shaggy)
-I am NOT digging the amnesia subplot involving the pregnant chick. These only happen when writers have absolutely no other ideas to throw out (that is the thing that always pissed me off about 'Jack'...I mean, '24'...I think each season, some poor bastard gets amnesia).
-I do like the sexual tension between the Iraqi (horrible with names, as I have mentioned) and the hot sister/money grubbing whore.
-I do not like the sexual tension between Kate and Sawyer. In fact, I fucking HATE sawyer (nope....he doesn't even get a capital in his name anymore). You know the bad guys that you are supposed to root against, but deep down truly enjoy (like any movie that has Christopher Walken or Dennis Hopper)? Well to hell with that, I HATE saywer. There is not one redeemable quality to him (except for maybe that he has VD). I honestly can't think of any character in any TV show that I absolutely can't bear to watch as much as him....damnit, I am getting pissed, better move on.....Grade (thus far): B+

-'Everybody Hates Chris', UPN on Thursdays
I already know what you're thinking...UPN?? What the hell? I agree...the first time that I watched it, my TV gave me a message that said, "Jig, this is UPN. Has there been a mistake? Are you unconscious? Should I call 911?" Trust me, this is gold....it is based on Chris Rock's childhood (hence the title). His family moved to a "nicer" neighborhood when he was like 10, so he went to be nicer (read: whiter) school and was pretty much the only black kid. Obviously, since it is about Rock's childhood, this is set in the '80's. The format of the show pretty much is like 'The Wonder Years' (coming of age with lots of narration), but lots funnier. Since the narrator is Rock, it is hilarious (although Daniel Stern did a nice job narrating for Wonder Years....speaking of that show, has anyone even seen it since they were like 12? Do it if you can..there is literally about 90% narration each show....I had never realized how little dialogue is actually in it. Kevin only had about 3 lines per episode. The rest of the time he simply looked: a.) troubled, b.) pissed, or c.) embarrassed.) Give UPN a chance...Grade: A-

There ya have it...watch and see for yourself...or keep tuning in to 'Blue Collar Comedy Hour' or whatever the hell it is you watch....the choice is up to you....

2005-09-23T19:54:00.000-05:00

Are you ever in the midst of one of those really good, blank stares (where you are essentially asleep with your eyes open), and once you shake yourself and snap out of it, you realize that you are staring at something totally inappropriate? And then suddenly, you get that feeling that you are the creepiest bastard alive not named Matt, and that someone has shouted "Security!" to get your peeping ass hauled out?

Case in point: sometime during the summer, I was at the mall food court on my lunch break, just eating my Subway and staring ahead mindlessly, probably thinking about nothing (let me take that back...I was probably having an internal debate about important topics like NATO....yep, NATO). Anyway, once I shook off my stare I realized that I was GLARING at, you guessed it, a woman breast feeding her baby. Naturally, she was looking back at me with the disgust that she hadn't had since she answered the knock on her door to hear, "Hi, I just moved to the neighborhood. My name is Herman and I'm a sex offender."

What would yun' mom even be thinking during this awkward unintentional game of staredown? It would probably be something like this: "Holy crap, if this baby doesn't start tappin' my flesh kegs, my titties are gonna explode!" (Obviously, I have no idea how breastfeeding works, but I shall continue) "There ya go, Jason Jr...that's right....suck on it...it's free! Go ahead...aaaaahhhh...there ya go...I feel lighter already....What the hell? Why is Frankie Muniz staring at me? Wait...that's not even Frankie Muniz! It's a wannabe Frankie! I hate wannabe Frankies! Unless you're tippin', this ain't no peep show, you pathetic bastard! I knew I should have used the breast pump today..."

(As a side note, until recently, the only thing I knew about breast pumps was from what I saw from 'Meet the Parents'. Did you know you can get them at Target? How did I not know this? You would think that at least once out of the hundreds of times I've been to Target, I would accidently stumble onto the breast pump isle. I mean, come on, don't you think the kick-ass combination of words Breast (cuz I likes the boobies) and Pump (my favorite fuckin word) on a box would attract my attention?!? Wouldn't the box have a picture of it being used? Wouldn't you think when I was like 13 I would ask my parents if we could to go to Target soley to stare at the box? It would be like free, socially acceptable porn!)

Ok, back to the story...once I locked eyes with the horrified mom, I turned red, got up and ran like my chair was on fire. I think I even left my unfinished sandwich on the table. I guess the moral of the story is that I need to pay more attention...wait, what was I saying? I got distracted...

2005-09-22T19:45:00.000-05:00

Random thoughts I had while trying to fix my virused-up computer....

Remember Airwalk shoes? What the hell were people thinking on those? Thank God I never succomed to the "I love Nirvana and if I could resurrect one person from the dead it would be Kurt Cobain" peer pressure and got a pair for myself. I think the ratio of "Airwalk owners" to "Airwalk owners that got daily ass-whippings" was about 2:1.8....

Continuing down Memory Lane (we need a new phrase for this...how about remembrance Drive or Sentimental Street?), there aren't many places that use wax cups as there used to be. How sad is this? Wax cups were a childhood staple; you'd just finish your Little League game and immediately run to the concession stand for a little beverage known as the "suicide" (speaking of which, do kids even drink these anymore? In hindsight, shouldn't we have drank Gatorade or water or something other than the combination of every pop on the fountain? Does anyone even remember what they tasted like?). Anyway, once the experimental drink was finished, you would chew the remainder of the ice, and after that was empty, chew the cup lid until the rounded edge was flipped up, and you got that sick ass wax in your teeth. Aaahhh, those were the days....

I can't speak for other colleges, but at least Illinois has about as much use for the Wall Street journal as Purdue did. I swear, walking to class (especially by fraternity/sorority houses), there are huge ass stacks of these babies, either lined up on the sidewalk, or in a bonfire-like pile in the yard. Seriously, since these things are being read as much as a "Welcome to Scientology" pamphlet (in any state but California, that is). They should seriously ship these journals to Louisiana to build a stable base to keep the water out...

I haven't seen 'The Man' (and don't really plan on it), but any, I repeat, ANY movie that has Samuel L. Jackson saying "Muthafucka!" can't be bad. Name one that disproves this rule...just one.....

I had a pretty good week last week when it came to being published. Minor, maybe...but I was still pretty damn happy. I wrote to the Daily Illini (Illinois' student newspaper, which is a helluva lot better than the Exponent at Purdue) about an observation I had. Naturally, they edited me (and my best line), but here is the link:
http://www.dailyillini.com/media/paper736/news/2005/09/12/Opinions/
Letters.Goodbye.To.Rivals-981698.shtml . Also, my favorite sports writer Bill Simmons of Espn had part of an email I sent in (which was actually part of a blog I wrote earlier) in one of his columns. I highly recommend reading Simmons...he is absolutely hilarious, but in case you don't want to, just scroll down to the Ravens/Titans prediction to see my part (edited too, of course):
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/050916 ....

R.I.P. to the Ponytail on Ponytail....

2005-09-12T21:31:00.000-05:00

So...how did I spend my weekend (at this point you should pretend to care)? Helping to develop a cure for cancer? Possibly fighting fires in the Champaign-Urbana area? Wait...this is college...menaging many, many times with many, many sets of women? Sorry, but the answers are no, no, and (sigh)....no.

Instead, I watched football. How much football, my adoring public asks? 5 games in two days. That is 15 hours of pigskin...minimum. Damn, that is a lot of time on the couch. As a result, my ass is imprinted into my 8 year old couch (an estimation), my Pringles stash is almost empty, and I totally need the week break before the next set of games....the rundown...

Saturday, Game One: Notre Dame at Michigan
-I was watching this one while at the same time, refreshing the Purdue/Akron and Illinois/San Jose State School For The Blind scores on Yahoo sports. Does this make me a loser? Anyway, Michigan came into this one ranked number 3 (!) in the nation. How they kept this high of a ranking I don't know, considering the week before they beat a team that consisted of 14-year olds, hobos, and 14-year old hobos by only 17. OK, if you play this hobo team that doesn't even have a logo, and you are at home, you should beat them by at least 50. Minimum. Anyway, the big play of the game was when Michigan had the ball at the 1/2 yard line (essentially, you just need ANY forward progression and you score...ANY...even by accident). They somehow managed to fumble from this close and the Irish recovered. Basically, Michigan sucks and will lose 5 games this year. Naturally, Notre Dame being Notre Dame, the media has a big fat one in their pants for them and skyrocketed them to number 10 in the rankings....we shall see about that...

Saturday, Game Two: Texas at Ohio State
This was the "If God could only watch one game of the year, this would be it" game. #2 ranked Texas facing #4 OSU for the first time. This was one that I was conflicted about...part of me said, "Hell with Ohio State! They screwed Purdue when I was a sophomore! Go Texas!". While the other side of me went, "Gotta root for the Big Ten! Pump em Buckeyes!". In the end, I decided I didn't care who won, as long as it was close.....and holy crap was it. In case you didn't see it, this was the craziest, most non-sensical, entertaining football game I have ever seen (that I didn't care who won). For instance, Vince Young (Texas QB) is one of those Mike Vick-type, speedy as hell, black QBs that have suddenly become fashionable in football. Announcers are so happy-go-jacky for him, you should NOT be standing next to one when Young gets brought up. Anyway, the first quarter Young was unstoppable....running 15 yards at a time, throwing perfectly....generally looking like the suitor for "Greatest Player of All Time" that Kyle Orton had for 5 weeks last season (more about him later). Once the second quarter started, Young went from "Pumper" to "Getting Pumped" so fast that I literally had to put Icy Hot on my neck for whiplash. With a blitz coming at him, Young refused to be sacked, and thus, threw one of the worst passes (right to OSU's stud AJ Hawk) that has ever been televised, causing many Texas fans to reach for their shotguns and insert it into their mouths for the remainder of the game. Lucky for them, they didn't have to pull the trigger....Texas had a great comeback with a back-to-being-a-Pumper-again Young throwing the winning touchdown pass. Essentially, it looks like OSU is going to be this year's Purdue...they will lose 3 or 4 games by a total of 10 points....they grabbed the loss from the clutches of victory. (Random observation....did you see Ohio State's helmets? I have watched them play a few times before, and I never remembered their helmets being so sparkly. It looked like somebody got ahold of David Bowie's makeup bag and lubed those shits up)....

Sunday, Game Three: Chicago Bears at Washington Redskins
This game simply pisses me off just to think about. For years, I have HATED the fucking Bears (I rate them just below the Cubs in my "Teams I Hate From Chicago" list). The only time I ever recall liking them was when I was like 8...I always used them on Tecmo Super Bowl (Neal Anderson was a bad ass running back that could not be stopped). As the years after that Nintendo game went by, my liking turned to indifference, and once I got to college, it turned to hatred. Why sudden hatred? One word: bandwagoners. My freshman year, the Bears had a "what the hell??" season and won something like 13 games. Naturally, everyone who had ever "liked" or "always rooted for" the Bears started going gay crazy. And each Sunday I had to hear about it. Where were these fans last year, when they had fewer wins than the French Army? EXACTLY. Anyway, I watched, and will eventually become a fan of the Bears because of their quarterback, Kyle Orton, who played all four years I went to Purdue, and was the former "Greatest Player of All Time". Naturally, the Bears drafted him...he was third on the depth chart to start the season....the starter broke his leg in the preseason....the next in line guy sucked so bad he got cut (the equivalent of you going to your job as the assistant manager of Radio Shack and the manager goes on paternity leave...you then get to take over, and are so ungodly horrible at filling in that they don't just tell you to stay as an assistant, but FIRE YOU!). Since Orton is now the starter, I have to watch. I have to be a fan...it truly blows, especially since the Bears offense is about as exciting as watching the TV Guide channel. And, since I live in Illinois now, the coverage will be unlimited....it's gonna be a long year....oh yeah, Bears lost 9-7....

Sunday, Game Four: St. Louis Rams at San Francisco 49ers
This one was fun because I was shocked it was even on TV. The Niners (my former absolute favorite team, back when they had a just in-his-thirties Jerry Rice and my favorite left-handed cracker Steve Young) were horrible last year. Won two games...Union's football team won more than that. They also had a terrible off-season....they had an in-house "how to handle the media and the rest of the world" video that was released to the papers...but it evidently had lesbians licking titties (why, I don't know), and some Jap-bashing. They also had a player die during training camp...yeah. So how did my second-favorite NFL team respond? By beating the highly-touted Rams 28-25 (thaaaat's right, they beat the RAMS....take that cocky blind guy I met at the wine tasting!). Hell, the Niners receiver Brandon Lloyd is even gonna have a rap cd come out soon...can't be any worse than Shaq's.....you gotta like this team...

Sunday, Game Five: Indy Colts at Baltimore Ravens
Since Sunday was 9/11 (and because the game was broadcast nationwide on ESPN), they had a quick rememberance ceremony. It involved Ray Lewis running from the tunnel waiving around the American flag like a crazy son of a bitch. I don't know if you saw this, but it was the scariest fuckin thing I have ever seen in my life. Seriously...I said before Suge Knight was the scariest guy on the planet. I take that back....I had forgotten that Ray Lewis killed a guy a couple of years ago. Seriously, the intensity he had in his eyes before he ran out of the tunnel made me piss myself. I think I screamed out a womanly "eeeehhhh!" when he made eye contact with me through the TV. Damn...and why aren't the Iraqi rebels seeing this? I swear, if our government sent Ray Lewis to Iraq, all hyped up and intense, and put a tunnel up for him to run out of, screaming and waiving the flag, they would all surrender on the spot. Guaranteed. And then they would ask for a change of pants.....anyway, about the game. Despite the announcers "this is the most exciting 0-0 game I have ever seen!" comments, I wasn't buying it. I watch my Colts for touchdowns, not punts! The second half the Ravens started to wear down, and Peyton started pumping it. It was a cheap ending on Balt's part though....Indy had a shutout until Balt forced themselves to score on us with 14 seconds left. I hope they could sleep at night knowing that they finally got a TD against our third string defense. Congratulations....

Holy crap was that a long blog....well, it was a long weekend. But let me leave you with this...if I have to see that damn Tom Brady/Visa "5 layers of protection" commercial again, I might actually murder him with my Visa card. You can actually sand them off and make them pretty sharp....or so I am told.....

2005-09-09T17:35:00.000-05:00

Random thoughts I had while trying to recall my favorite lines from 'The 40 Year Old Virgin'.....

I know it is now football time, but I don't care....tell me, who is gonna beat my Spurs this coming season? We just got Mike "The Shark" Finley and Nick "Somebody's gotta wear their socks to their knees" Van Exel. They also picked up an Argentinian I have never heard of, but let us assume he is a pimp. All this on top of the team that won it last year. If anyone knows a bookie, I would love to throw down some cash on the preseason odds...lemme know...

-"Oh yeah...I remember her....she was a hoe.....foooo shooooo."

There isn't much that is funnier than watching a man who has never bonged a beer before try to do it. Trust me, it's comic gold. Especially when the ratio of "Times Bonged" to "Times thrown up in the bathtub/toilet" is 2:2....

-"I hope you gotta big trunk, cuz I'm puttin' my bike in it."

Has anyone done more with less that the guy that says "Let's get reaaaady to ruuuuummmble" before boxing matches? Seriously, he wears a tux, grabs that sweet up-above-in-the-rafters microphone and says like 60 words, only five of which anyone really pays attention to. I think he even trademarked the phrase. Hell, I bet he's even got groupies...and I am sure you could guess what is said before the pumpin' begins.....

-"Why do you always tell me to go fuck a goat?"

Last night, possibly the largest slug in the Midwest (who even knew they had slugs in Illinois?) slowly attempted to invade my gayed up apartment through the screen door entrance. Lucky for me, he was too damn slow. Naturally, the 8-year old in me ran to get some salt. And boy, did I let that poor slimy bastard have it. You know those Morton salt shakers that have the two different openings? You know, the one opening that has three tiny holes in it, and the other side which has one giant one? Well, guess which side I used?....ha....heart attacks have been had with less salt than my slug received....yep, pretty sure I am going to hell.....

-"This is Boner Jams '03....just some scenes I was really into that summer."

(Some corrections on previous posts....I had mentioned that I couldn't remember the third white Bulls center and was told that it was Will Perdue. While somewhat true, but not what I was referring to. I was thinking there were three white, equally sucky Bulls centers on the second of their three-peat teams....I cheated and checked....and was wrong. There were just the two. Perdue was on the first of the three-peat teams.....also, about my door-holding post, I am strickly referring to times when you obviously hold the door for someone, to the point that there is no true reason for them to touch it. I will discuss the "pass off" method another time...sorry for the confusion...).....

I got soul, but I'm not a soldier......

2005-09-07T19:18:00.000-05:00

Surprisingly enough, boring objects like doors can lead to an enlightening discussion. And no, I'm not referring to crazy-ass Jim "I woke up this morning and got myself a beer" Morrison, or am I recommending that you "Save Big Money at Menards" by pumping your front doors from their twangy establishment.

No, boys and girls, I am talkin' about observing the door's usage as a sociological observational device. After all, there hasn't been much brought up lately in the media about people's habits when it comes to entering/exiting places, despite the fact that I always hear things like, "Jig, why don't people talk about holding open doors for people?" or "Damnit! If only someone would have the balls to talk about entry way habits" or "Could you spare me some change? I wanna buy a sandwich." Therefore, I will shed some light on this heated subject, in a series I call: "Don't be a Damn Doork!"

Ok, now lemme explain...have you ever found yourself in the situation where you walk into a building, and, because you are such a sweetheart, end up holding the door for someone else coming in, too? Assuming that you have given said enterer a proper amount of space to easily come in (and you always do), he or she will do one of two things: A. They will simply walk through the opened door courteously, or B. They will walk in, but as they are doing so, they will put their hand on the door that you are opening, as if to imply that you simply aren't doing them ANY service...as if this whole thing is an elaborate trap, where you will, during mid-entry, release your grip on the door, thus hitting the enterer in the side with all the force of an 85-year old woman's uppercut, thoroughly embarrassing them for the rest of his/her life, resulting in years of therapy, and ultimately, suicide by way of running into a chainsaw.

Try this experiment for yourself...I guarantee you will find the same results, the same two types of people, as well as reaching my conclusion: I hate B people.

It is a complete insult to the door holder for the person walking through to actually touch the door. Can a man not be grateful that he doesn't have to do any work in this action? Americans are lazy as hell anyway, if you are getting a free, straight shot into your building, wouldn't you take it? Isn't that the whole concept of the Automatic Sensor doors, anyway?

But, like they always do, douchebags have to ruin it (that will be the title of my book, Why Do Douchebags Have to Ruin Everything? coming out Fall '07) What is their thought process, anyway? "Oooh, I am waaaay too fuckin' proud to have someone else do something for me! I better touch this bar as I walk by to show that I didn't really need him! I could have done that shit myself! I don't need anybody but me! Now, I gotta call my mom and make sure she picked up my kids.....oh yeah, and I am really proud!"

Another possible thought that I can only imagine might go through the doork's head is that maybe the door opener needs help. "Maybe he/she isn't strong enough to keep it open....maybe it will fall on me. I should probably hold it too to make sure." Quit being a bitch and take a chance! Unless you hear an audible grunt from the door holder, or possibly some actual sweat dropping from their face, I think they can handle it. People won't make the extra effort if they can't take it....they are probably lucky to be alive anyway; they aren't gonna waste extra seconds and energy they don't have helping you. On top of that, the doors aren't 25-foot, 15th century wooden medieval doors with dragon engravings on them. No one had to swing across a moat to get to them. There are no catapults to crash through or Trojan horses to trick the bastards. These doors were made in a factory in....Cleveland! Six years ago!

So here is the moral....if you are one of the doorks that must "hold" a door that is already being courteously held for you, think of it this way: pretend you are royalty, you prideful bastard, and walk right in. And don't forget to say thanks too....bitch!

2005-09-02T01:44:00.000-05:00

Random thoughts I had while trying to remember who the third white center was who played for the Bulls when Jordan and Pippen won all the titles (I got Wennington and Longley)....

In case you didn't hear, Suge "Scariest Bastard Alive" Knight got shot at a Kanye West party after the VMAs a couple of days ago. Suge Knight....the 350 lb former bodyguard....man who has been thought to have had Pac killed....founder of Death Row Records who dangled Vanilla Ice out the window of a high-rise building so he would sign a royalties contract....dude who had his business competitors drink piss just cuz he said so....DRINK PISS?!?! WHAT THE HELL?!?! Anyway, some ballsy/crazy/now scared shitless gangsta shot him in the leg and got away. Seriously, how scared is this guy now? It would have been one thing to have capped him and not have to worry about retaliation, but Suge took one to the leg, and then walked to the hospital and had the bullet removed. Somewhere in Compton, an ass will be medievaled...

I am not a guy that pumps "like" in sentences a lot (i.e., "My hair gets, like, soooo curly when it rains"), but I should probably completely take it out of my vocab. After all, I am not a 14-year old girl from Cali that is pissed at her father. Anyway, I say this because yesterday the cable guy (and his assistant) came to fix my On Demand Insight thing. The assistant (who obviously had just gotten hired, as he did about as much fixing the problem as I did) was standing up, watching Lifetime or some such crap, when I asked him, "So, are you, like, the apprentice or something?" which he took as "Do you like the Apprentice?" and subsequently answered, "Yeh, I watch it". Now, what the hell kind of conversation starter would that be on my part? Would I struggle that much for something to break the ice, that I gotta randomly bring up a TV show that hit its prime two years ago? Uuuhhhh....uuuhhh....gotta think of something.....so....do you like the Apprentice? hheeheehe!....whew, glad I got that one out...I am sooo freakin' smooth....

What the hell ever happened to Chris Tucker? Does he do any movies that don't involve the words Rush or Hour in them? What happened at the end of Rush Hour 2? Didn't he stay in Japan or something? Did he ever leave?....

No one, I repeat, NO ONE looks cool walking downhill. It simply can't be done. There is too much awkward leaning and odd steppage. Not even Hov could pull that off...

Since football season is vastly (and excitedly) approaching, I just thought I would mention that football analyst John Clayton is the ugliest man on ESPN. Come to think of it, he is the ugliest person on TV. Period (funny, I had a professor at Purdue that looked like him).....

On a more serious note, can you believe the Katrina aftermath? The Yahoo headline says "Anarchy in New Orleans". Unbelievable. There are people that are actually shooting at the rescue choppers. Shooting at the rescue choppers?!?! Looting was expected, but that is just sad. The area won't be the same for years....how much warning did they even have? It seemed like two days and then disaster stuck. Damn...as a result, I did the humanitarian thing and gave the Red Cross $25 for relief...hopefully that might help somebody, (if nothing else, I might be able to sleep at night)....

OK, lighten it up.....gotta say that 'The 40 Year Old Virgin' is the funniest movie I have seen in years (and, yes, I did pump Wedding Crashers twice in the theatre). I literally cried during the chest waxing scene I laughed so hard. Can't say that had ever happened before. I can see myself relating to that scene in a few years anyway....

And I STILL can't think of that third cracker Bulls center.....

2005-08-30T01:48:00.001-05:00

A couple of days ago, I went to check out the new co-rec/sports club/giant-assed workout building that is on U of I's campus. Being a huge puss (and going by myself), I chose not to lift weights. Instead, I pumped some running on the second floor track (like a pimp), struggled through three sets of elevated crunches (like a puss), and worked on my ass with some Stairmaster action (yes, there are a few heterosexual men who utilize the Stairmaster....a few).

Anyway, I better get to the excitement. The Stairmasters are on the second floor of the building. They are inside of the track, and overlook the 3 basketabll courts underneath. Therefore, the Masters have a great view of Illini pickup b-ball games. All three courts were full...the far left had the mucho athletic/black players (and their "please let me play too" white counterparts). The middle court was filled with Asian players and the occasional white guy. Finally, the last court, closest to me was filled with....what?!?! More Japanese?? How the hell did that happen?!?!

If you have never played pickup basketball before, let me give you an idea of how it typically works (and why I was shocked and dismayed...more shock than dismay, actually...wait, what does dismay even mean?) For matters of convenience, I will keep it to the 3 court scenario. On the first court, you have the "Average Joe's". These games typically are comprised with white guys who might have played in high school (i.e. me), and ususally includes a damn-near 50 professor who is in pretty good shape, and as a result of his recent divorce, now has lots of time to kill. These games are fairly competitive, and always fun...typically because it is possible to look like a stud.

The second court is the athletic/black court. These are always the games that everyone wants to be in, because the competition is greater. These games are also notorious because it doesn't matter when or where you play, there are always two ball hogs on your team: one good and one that absolutely sucks. The first ball hog...let's call him Iverson...thinks he is Iverson, but actually plays at an Iverson-like level. It sucks that you don't get the ball much, but at least AI won't let you down (this isn't "practice", after all). The other ball hog...let's call him Patterson (a joke not many of you will get), might have been good back when Clinton was President, but that was a long damn time ago. Patterson not only refuses to pass, but doesn't play defense either. His "run" is a sight reminiscent of a 30-year smoker chasing after his kid after the boy hit him in the crotch with a Power Ranger...half assed and coughy at best.

Now, the third court is reserved for the Asians. Typically, no one wants to play with the Asians (or maybe, the Asians don't wanna play with anyone else...interesting...Philosophy majors, discuss). None the less, the Japs are by themselves. I have no generalities of the Asian court, as I have never actually played with them...but oh, to watch...

This brings me to my point. Watching the Asian courts at the complex was one of the most satisfying experiences of my life. They should film this stuff. Seriously...with all the crap that IS reality TV, couldn't like the Gameshow Network or ESPN 8 (that's right, I stole from Dodgeball) document this stuff? Missed layups, horrible passes, airballs, Rec Specs, blatant fouls, obvious travels, those "Damn, I just missed a wide-open 2 foot jumper, I better look disappointed at myself"looks...it was simply put, comic gold. And I had not one, but TWO courts to quench my thirst for hilarity. I hope they keep it up, I have more Stairmaster to do.

Let me say, I don't mean whatsoever for this to sound racist. The Asians would most certainly kick our ass at soccer, cricket...more international sports. But basketball tends to be an American thing....soon enough, maybe the Asian court will be the new athletic/black court. Maybe they will start to take over and make me look bad....come to think of it, they probably would anyway.

2005-08-24T21:30:00.001-05:00

Isn't blogging a great idea? Where else can you rant about anything that totally entertains you or completely fills you with hate (well...I suppose either a girlfriend or a therapist could work, but since I have neither, blogspot will step in)? Well, where does a man start...I am Tyler Freer, a grad student at the University of Illinois going for that Master's degree in Advertising. I came into this place knowing absolutely NO ONE, which is both a negative and a positive.

For example, I do not have to worry about running into anyone I know and don't want to talk to/associate with/see ever again. You know what I am talkin about....when you see one of those douchebags from your hometown that you have nothing to say to or even have in common with, except for geographical location. This leads to the unavoidable "conversation" that goes something like this...

Douchebag: Tyler! Hey, how's it going?
Me: ....Alright. You?
Douchebag: Good. What have you been up to?
Me: Oh, you know...school, work, same old, same old.
Douchebag: Cool...well, ya know the gas station is gettin really busy. But you know work; same shit, different day (or insert your own redneck cliche here).
Me: Oh, yeah...(awkward pause)..
(longer awkward pause)
Me: Well, I gotta go and...meet my grandma for pancakes. Nice to see ya again.

Thank God I don't have to worry about these awkward assed meetings. But, at the same time, at least I knew that person (like it or not). Whereas here, as mentioned, I know no one at Illinois. This leads to an interesting phenomenon...when you have no one to talk to, you will talk to ANYONE. For example, my apartment, although spacious and generally pimp, smelled like a Marlboro factory when I moved in. As a result, a painter came in a couple of days ago to help clean out the headache-inducing smoke smell with the hallucination-inducing paint smell (just for the record, i prefer seeing imaginary leprechauns to having a sinus infection). The painter was a 50-ish black dude named....damnit, I am bad with names...let's call him Carl. Although I didn't say much to Carl while he was on the clock (and Lord if he wasn't on the clock...he took a "break" after each 10 minute interval of painting, and had more calls go his way than a free phone sex line), as he was waiting for his ride, I chatted him up.....some highlights....

Carl:"Cocaine is about $50 for a half a gram. That's what a carton of cigarettes will be soon."
(point to be made...Carl doesn't smoke)

Me: "So, do you know any good restaurants that I should go to? I know nothing about Champaign."
Carl: "Well, me and my wife went to the China Buffet for our anniversary. That was pretty good."

(Me telling him about my hatred for the Cubs, his team, even though I do like Derrek Lee, their first baseman)
Carl: "The Cubs have Derrek Lee?"

I liked Carl.