Cut That Meat!!!!

This Sunday is Super Bowl Sunday, probably the biggest sporting event of the year in the States. It doesn’t have as rich of a history as baseball’s World Series, the trophy isn’t really as cool as the Stanley Cup, and quite truthfully, the sport’s all-star game is probably the worst of the big 4. But still, in a relatively short amount of time, the NFL has been able to put together one of the greatest sporting, drinking, and gambling (not to mention advertising) events this world has ever seen.

The first Super Bowl I remember watching was the last Super Bowl of the Steelers’ dynasty. They played Vince Feragamo and the Los Angeles Rams (yes, folks, there was a football team in LA at one time … two, actually). I remember being in awe of the magnitude of the game, and excited for each successive play. I have to say that I was not rooting for the Steelers that day, mainly because I thought the Rams had cooler helmets (at the time, this is how I decided who I liked).

Unfortunately, the Rams won, which basically triggered my “bad luck” in picking the team that I thought (or hoped) would win the Super Bowl. The following year, it was my Eagles that were forced to take a butt-kicking, the following year, the Bengals took it up the arse (yes, I rooted for the team with the “interesting” new helmets). And so it went – a few times, I was lucky enough to pick the right team, like when the Raiders whalloped the Redskins in the early 80’s. But, more often than not, I picked the loser. Yep, I rooted for all of John Elway’s disappointing Broncos teams, and I was really hoping that Marv Levy’s Bills would find a way to knock off one of those teams in that traumatic 4-year run.

So, who am I rooting for this year? Get ready to call your bookies – I’m going with the Colts. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the Bears – in fact, with the exception of that ass-clown Tank Johnson, the Bears are a team that one could easily like. But, I REALLY want Tony Dungy to win one – I think he has been through enough heart-aches in his coaching career (and his life in general), that he deserves this. Plus, I’ve always liked Peyton Manning’s game (consequently, I HATE Eli Manning after what he did to the Bolts). Your money is probably safe with the Bears because of this … you probably don’t even need the points.

Nooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Life as I know it is about to change … no, my wife’s not pregnant or anything like that … it’s much worse … In a sense, a close family member of mine is about to pass away … no, not literally, but kind of. You see, my very first watering hole, the Toll House Tavern, is apparently up for sale. Sure, it’s not like I go there a lot anymore, but the Toll House is like that Penthouse magazine from the late 1980’s that you have hidden somewhere in your house … you don’t necessarily partake in “reading” it anymore, but you gain some comfort in knowing that it is there for you to fall back on … in case you get the urge to “read” about the “overgrowth of wilderness.”

The Toll House was like my “Cheers.” I knew the bartenders, knew many of the patrons, and was sort of considered a regular there. Back in the day (1994), one could purchase a 50-cent draught of Pabst Blue Ribbon, which meant if I walked in with $10, I’d probably be stumbling home with a few bucks to spare.

It was a place were many of my friends and I gathered, ordered pitchers of beer, wings, pepperoni sticks, and played some god-awful juke-box music - which is one of the constants of this bar, the music never changed – but that’s not the point (or, is it?). It was like home for many of us. I knew that if I went down there on a Friday night, I would see familiar faces, be able to talk sports, politics, sex, music, or just make fun of the guy who sat in the corner and looked like Captain Kangaroo.

As the years passed, a lot of my friends “outgrew” the Toll House, started their own families, and maybe occasionally made a guest appearance there. Heck, when I haven’t been there nearly enough since I moved. Sure, other groups of “kids” went there and hung out, but it wasn’t the same as when our big group of friends “owned” that bar.

Just for my amusement (and the amusement of some of you who experienced the Toll House), here is a random list of things I’ll miss about the bar:

1. It was only about a 5-minute walk from my parents’ house … and about a 10-minute stumble.
2. The guy with the “lobster hands” that would come in and never notice us making fun of him.
3. The guy who said the word “dude” over 100 times in less than 5 minutes (yes, we counted).
4. Playing Golden Tee in the corner, while Ray-Ray would “acquire” pretzel sticks from the bar.
5. Going back to the Toll House after playing football every year after Thanksgiving
6. One time, my friend Ray-Ray and I played Megatouch for 8-straight hours there.
7. Going to the Toll House on Christmas night with a bunch of friends and buying each other the nastiest shots we could think of.
8. Listening to Jimmy the bartender try and sing the Police classic, “Doo-Doo-Doo, Dee-Doo-Doo-Dah.”
9. Having a few “conquests” with a few of the ladies that hung out there.
10. Making the “love call from the stall” phone calls – my friends coined that one.
11. Winning two deck hockey championships with the Toll House sponsoring us.
12. Never having to worry about getting a ride home from there if I was too drunk.
13. Spending hours a night there with a variety of friends talking about life and about girls (and never getting anywhere doing it).
14. Sitting in the corner of the bar with a big group of friends, and seeing a tall object walking into the place … and eventually realizing it was a college buddy of mine from Baltimore who knew exactly where to find me.
15. Never having to worry about the place being too crowded.

Incidentally, the sales price was around $640,000 … and yes, I gave some thought to the idea of being my own Sam Malone … how cool would that be?

As an aside, I think we should all get together at the Toll House one more time, like the old days … I think she deserves that much.

Some Things Never Change ...

You know, just when I think I’ve beaten the “clumsy” illness, I do something to remind me that I still have it. This morning, I put in a new smoke detector/carbon monoxide detector. To my surprise, I did it rather flawlessly – took me maybe 10 minutes, tops. Sure, it was a small victory, but a victory nevertheless … Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t last.

Just a few minutes later, I was in the bathroom (or as my mom often puts it, “in the toilet”), when I bent over to pick something up. As I came up, I smacked my skull on the cabinet above the toilet. The pain wasn’t so bad, I’ve done things like this so much in my life, that I’ve created some sort of numbness to incidents like this. A few minutes later, I sensed “moisture” in the area of my skull that was impacted by the corner of the cabinet … yup, somehow, I managed to bleed. There is good news to this - I now have a sense of what I would look like as a red-head.

But, back to the smoke detector installation – I did so well on this, that I’m decided to attempt and fix my front screen door today. As you may recall, I e-mailed “Chrome Repot” about this a few weeks ago. They did get back to me, and basically said that since I’ve had the door for over a year, there’s nothing they can do to help me … and although that really sucks (I’m not buying from those bastards ever again), it gave me an “opportunity.” So, I assessed the situation, and decided that I probably needed a new door closer (yeah, I didn’t know what it was called either until I went to Lowe’s). I installed it and … well … the door works a little better … but it’s not totally fixed … but hey, 1 ½ out of 2 ain’t so bad, right?

Other than that, the rest of the weekend was pretty cool – we hung out at Durty Nelly’s, a local watering hole, on Friday night. Saturday, we got lights for the hall-ways from Lowe’s (F-U Chrome Depot), and Saturday night, we planned to go to the new horse-track/casino near us in Chester, conveniently called Harrah’s Chester Downs … of course, we didn’t take into account that this was the first real weekend this place was open, and that about 20,000 other people had the same idea we had (they have 2700 machines). We were in traffic for about 45 minutes, before we decided against going. We ended up at a very cool New Orleans style restaurant near our house, called “Nora Lee’s.” We had some wine, some good food, and I probably ended up saving about $200 that I would’ve lost at Harrah’s (somebody upstairs was probably telling me it wasn’t a good idea to go - hint taken).

The FREEk LIBRARY of PHILADELPHIA

My friend Slant, penned this beauty a little while ago – I came across it recently, and almost busted a rib … he is quite a writer. Enjoy:

BIBLIOPHILE: NOUN: 1. A lover of books. 2. A collector of books

Part 1 of the above definition aptly describes me. I love to read. I love the sight, the scent, the simple tactile thrill of holding a book; this combination creates an atmosphere that allows me to experience an almost transcendental peace-of-mind.

Therefore, with eager steps I strode toward the Free Library of Philadelphia's main branch to find a relatively quiet spot and finish my current book. Settling into a table seat (one of the library's tables that find themselves bisected by two rows of shelves) in an area rated for 80 decibel and under body noises, I achieved relative seclusion.

SMELLY: ADJECTIVE: Informal Having a noticeable, usually unpleasant or offensive odor.

As much as I love the library, the air is rather still and, at times, stifling. So, imagine my surprise when I caught a whiff of Polo or Chanel's new "Hobeaux" fragrance. Trying to decide whether to seek another seat or urinate on myself to cover the stench, I stood to pinpoint the intoxicated source of that intoxicating aroma.

Let us examine the candidates:

Candidate #1:

gender - indeterminate as the subject was baggily dressed in… bags.

age - indeterminate since the subject was asleep with his/her head inside a tattered backpack.

purpose of visit - possibly to test the relative acoustics of said backpack when snoring through nose, mouth and (of this I am most certain) ears. No reading material in sight.

Conclusion: Noisy as the person was their body odor, regretfully, did not compare.


Candidate #2:

gender - male.

age - late 50's.

purpose of visit - as with candidate #1, this subject did not seem to be at the library to read (again, no reading material in sight). Candidate #2 seemed to be running lines for a gay porno. Slouched in seat he - in a rich baritone - exhaled various moans, groans, lip-smacks, unintelligible utterances, each sound punctuated with its own violent grope of a different part of the body.

Conclusion: Such an accomplished thespian could not be the mobile shit/piss fragrance factory, so I dismissed him.



That was it. Just those two. So, after spending another few moments of life I will never have back, I realized that the smell had gently slid away, much like candidate #1's pants.

I sat back down and resumed reading. The book is an account of the rise of America's first acknowledged serial killer, Dr. H.H. Holmes. The author is a gifted storyteller and I, holding true to the first definition, was deeply engrossed.

LUNATIC: NOUN: A person regarded as strange, eccentric, or crazy enough to argue with subway seats: crackpot, crazy. Informal: crank, loon, loony. Slang: cuckoo, dingbat, batshit, kook, nut-job, screwball, weirdo, shit-assed crazy fuck-nut

You, the reader of my tale, will not then be shocked in hearing how delighted I was that my reverie was blissfully interrupted by Mr. Vomitous Pissonmyself.

I am not sure what I first noticed: the peristaltic reflex of my throat (an involuntary response as a precursor to vomiting) caused by a sudden reappearance of the stench, or by 2003's Mr. Fucking Nuttiest Nose-Picking Moron of Philadelphia's whispering "hello" to me.

Great.

I remained seated, neither moving an inch (for obvious reasons) nor breathing (for more obvious reasons). I do not understand how I, after all of these years, never appreciated how much reading for pleasure was enhanced by some poster child for abortion whispering "hello" and picking his nose. Truly, one of life's greater pleasures.

After about 3.4 more seconds of this, I decamped from the Mental Health section (seriously) and left Philly's Crazy/Noisy/God-Awful Smell Orchestra to find another seat.

I found myself in periodicals. Seemingly quieter than any other room and not too crowded it was, in fact, peopled with sober-looking individuals reading The Wall Street Journal, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Washington Post, etc. Finding a seat across from a professorial middle-aged gentleman I eagerly transported myself back to 1893 Chicago.

CREEPY: ADJECTIVE: Informal 1. Of or producing a sensation of uneasiness orfear, like the freak sitting across from you staring at you and playing with a stopwatch: a creepy feeling; a creepy story. 2. Annoyingly unpleasant; repulsive: like the same freak who is now smiling at the table, the blank area of table.

Anthropologists and neuroscientists alike suspect that it is something evolution left behind - like the coccyx bone or the appendix - from a time when humans were not the apex predator. I refer to a basic, yet intangible human ability to sense danger. Or, in my case, that some other freak is now near and staring at you.

So involved in my reading, I did not notice the professorial gentleman had left only to have his seat occupied by one of nature's practical jokes.

Lifting my eyes from the book, I began to appraise the table space in front of me. A space that had, not too long ago, been stacked with a week's worth of major newspapers and now held…

a set of hands and a stopwatch.

This should be interesting.

There was a stopwatch, held by a pudgy, white, almost delicate hand. The hand was attached to an arm equally delicate in appearance. The arm disappeared into a stark-white t-shirt. The t-shirt was clad about a small-torsoed man. Atop this slight torso was one of the biggest goddamn heads I have ever seen on something that did not have a trunk and shit on clowns.

Framing one of Jupiter's moons was a mane of gray hair, hair that would be the result of Don King and Buckwheat having children who snorted Rogaine. The face 'neath the hair was blotchy, puffy and sweating, its eyes shifting between me and the stopwatch. Neither interested in seeking another seat (to find, I am sure, someone ever crazier) nor brave enough to ask what he was doing, I returned to the book.

After a few minutes of silence I assumed the King of the Freak Troll Dolls would not be bothering me (he did not smell) and I settled comfortably into a rhythm.

Using the ESP I am sure he developed inside his two-car garage head, he must have sensed my complacency and began to count. Not a normal count, no. But a series that went something like this:

"1…yes. 2…yes. 3…yes, yes. (long pause) 4…yes" and so on.

Not really wanting to, but really needing to see what was going on, I looked up…

He was shifting his eyes between his stopwatch and me.

"5…yes. 6…yes. 7…yes."

Not interested to see if it was bomb he had in his head and this was his countdown, I left.

Next time I want to do some serious reading, I will just check into the closest insane asylum because none of their inmates are there.

Later.

Stoppage Time

1. Now that Parcells has “retired” from the Dallas Cowboys, how many people are left that are still defending T.O. (besides that moron, Michael Irvin)? Who could possibly handle this guy as a head coach at this point? More importantly, who will Jerry Jones bring in to “feed” T.O.?

2. Rumor has it that G.W. is going to urge cuts in gas usage in the U.S. … if congress was still Republican, would he be “urging” this? Just wonderin’.

3. Two of my college roommates and I are planning an extended weekend in a most unusual place … Cleveland. I think we are going to take in a baseball game, visit the Rock and Roll museum … and that’s about all one can do in Cleveland, right?

4. How dare NBC run Heroes the same time as FOX runs 24. Can’t these networks get together and make sure not to run good shows at the same time (I mean seriously, there are enough bad shows on tv that this shouldn’t be a problem). Thank goodness for DVR.

5. Not to give plugs on items, but you must get a ROKU, if you do not have one yet. Basically, it is like a bridge between your computer and stereo, in which you can play all of your I-Tunes radio stations, MP3’s, and Live365 radio stations. With the state of music on terrestrial radio, this is a great alternative to satellite radio (and cheaper, as well). If interested, go to www.rokulabs.com.

6. The Flyers suck this year, and so do the Sixers … I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t wait for baseball season.

7. The Oscars are happening tonight … and I have no interest … mainly because I have no interest in seeing most of the movies that win awards.

Barker's Billions???

Something’s been bothering me for quite some time, kind of boiling up inside of me like volcanic magma … o.k., maybe not that powerful, but still … The issue at hand involves one of my all-time favorite game shows – The Price is Right. And, no I’m not trying to start a grass-roots plan to get the original Barker’s Beauties back on the show (sorry, Diane).

This particular concern reaches to the very core of the show. Now, mind you, my intentions by bringing this matter up are not meant to bring this addictive show to its knees, but it’s just something I needed to get off of my chest. I think I’ve dragged this on long enough, so here it is …

Why are there commercials on The Price is Right? Isn’t the entire show made up of advertisements for products ranging from chewing gum to cars? Do we really need to cut to commercials from commercials? I’m interested in learning how much this show asks for companies to sponsor their products ON the show. It’s like they are double dipping, isn’t it?

From a marketing point of view, the person or people who created The Price is Right were far ahead of his or their time. Seriously, these guys are making ad-money hand over fist. They are so successful, they NFL seems to mimicking this show, by sticking as many ads in the program as possible (of course, that’s a topic for another blog-rant).

Now that Bob Barker is leaving, The Price is Right has a tremendous opportunity to add even more ads to the show … like, why not make the next “host” a talking sports car (kind of like K.I.T. from Knight Rider). Certainly, Ford, GM, or Chrysler would pay big bucks to involve a car of their own for this, wouldn’t they?

I’m sue the folks at The Price is Right have already considered that … I’m guessing it’s too early to have talking cars as hosts of game shows … of course, maybe I’m just not forward-thinking enough. Perhaps a talking vacuum cleaner … we could call the ladies “Hoover’s Suckers.”

Wok-a, Wok-a, Woka!!!!

So, for one reason or another, I’ve been really enjoying Chinese food lately … so much so that I’m interested enough in trying my hand at creating some Chinese dishes (and no, I’m not going to go “authentic” and use cats and rats). Last week, I bought a Chinese cookbook (in English, not in Chinese – I don’t know how to speak the language), and decided to try my luck at cooking some Kung Pao Chicken. After purchasing several of the ingredients at a local grocery store, I went to work.

It turned out o.k., I guess, but I know I can do better (no, using chicken instead of cats did not change the taste). I didn’t have a wok, and that, in my opinion was an issue – we used a regular pan – and from what I read, can change the flavor of Chinese food (enough with the cats, already!).

So, on Tuesday, I decided to go out and buy a wok … and what better place to purchase one, than at Walmart (strike 1). I confess, I don’t know enough about woks to make an intelligent purchasing decision, and I’m far too lazy to read up on them (any help here from you, the reader, would be appreciated). I ended up buying one for only $15 – the only one they had (strike 2).

Here’s the thing. I didn’t realize that with some woks (maybe all, again, I’m not sure), you have to boil off the protective coating, and then, you must “season” the wok. My initial thought was that I would need to cook some herbs and spices in the wok in order to season it (ignorant American), but I found out that seasoning means heating the wok up and “lathering” it in cooking oil.

It sounded easy enough, and to an extent, it was easy enough. BUT, the wok needed to be heated for 10 minutes … and then cooled, and then repeated 3 or 4 more times. About 7 minutes in, the oil was burning and smoke filled the house. My wife was not happy. She claimed the entire house smelled like a diner the rest of the night (not sure what the problem with that is).

The thing is, I now don’t want to repeat the “seasoning” 3 or 4 more times, and I fear I have bought an inferior wok. I’m thinking about going out to purchase a non-stick wok – one I don’t need to season. Again, any help here would be great (I sure do ask a lot of you guys and gals, don’t I?).

What a "Pane"

Have you ever had a disappointing experience buying something from somewhere (geez, Los, can you be more vague?)? Yeah, me too. About 3.5 years ago, we bought new doors and windows from one of those “big box” home improvement stores – I won’t give the name away, BUT it rhymes with Chrome Repot. We decided that not only were we going to purchase the doors and windows through them, but we would also go through them with regards to contracting a local handyman to install said doors and windows.

For the most part, the windows are fine – I did notice that one of the basement windows was insufficiently caulked, or at least not caulked with a lot of precision. The doors are another story altogether. I did have the “opportunity” to meet the door installer dude when he was installing the doors, and he seemed like a nice-enough guy – it looked like he took great care in framing our doors and installing them.

BUT, the doors themselves (specifically, the front door) seem to be about as enduring as Fred Taylor’s hamstrings. We’ve had nothing but problems with the door – one of the window springs broke immediately – which kind of sucks, I guess, but we didn’t do anything about it when it happened (because we are lazy and passive, I guess). However, in recent months, the door wasn’t closing properly, and now it won’t close at all, unless we really slam it shut (it looks as if one of the hinges may be bending or something).

Anyway, I’m just writing this to vent, and forewarn all of you if you are thinking about going through a big-box store to do something similar. Spend the extra money – it’ll be worth it. As an aside, I just e-mailed the company to complain – I’ll see if I get any satisfaction from them … but I’m not holding my breath.

Lillian or Morticia?

I was saddened to read about the death of one of the more “inspirational” entertainers that helped walk me through my perverted adolescent years -Yvonne DeCarlo. For those of you who don’t recognize the name, the shapely actress played the part of Hermann’s wife, Lillian, on the Munsters. Sure, the show originally ran for a few years in the 1960’s, but it enjoyed tremendous success in reruns while I was growing up.

Of course, the Munsters had a competing show, titled The Adams Family, which featured another quite enticing female lead, Morticia. It got me to thinking – which of these characters was/is the more attractive (desirable) lady? I’ve been going back and forth on this one (minds out of the gutter, please). I decided to break down the qualities of each of these vixens.

Lillian:
She certainly had the edge in use of makeup, and shapeliness. Additionally, she seemed to be more extroverted, and opinionated (not sure if this is a desirable trait or not). Plus, she seemed to be more motherly in nature, in a strange sort of way. She obviously preferred more colors than just black, sometimes even dressing in gray.

Morticia:
Definitely, she was much more wafy, possibly leading the anorexic onslaught that has troubled and perplexed succeeding generations. She also preferred only the color black, and seemed to try to hide all of her features (below the neck). However, she seemed to have a very deep-lying sensual and carefree side. She obviously had a control over men that Lillian could not compete with. At the same time, she seemed a little needy. She did seem a little more feminine than Lillian as well, and I’m betting that Mrs. Munster would probably take her out rather easily in a cat fight (one that I’d pay a pretty penny to see).

I would like to hear your thoughts on this subject, as I’m sure that many of you may hold valuable information that I’m not including in this comparison. I need direction, and you, fellow readers, hold the key.

As an Aside ...
I won’t even go into the husbands (female readers, please add anything you can about Herrmann’s large hands, feet, and head vs. Gomez’s cool, calm, collectedness).

Thank Goodness, the Show is Back

Oh, thank goodness – American Idol is back for another season, and we are now going to see and hear American Idol stories everywhere – newspapers, radio, tv, computers … UGH! To me, this show is a pile of dog-crap. I mean, hey, I understand that many of these people are talented, and have fantastic singing voices, but beyond that, I have no other respect for this show.

I know I’ve talked about this before, and I really shouldn’t care at all, because in all fairness, there are a lot more tv channels I can watch, but for some reason this gets under my skin. Basically, what is happening is that FOX is using an assembly line approach with music, and mass producing, mass marketing, and mass selling it to us. The real problem is that this formula has produced a rabid following of fans.

I mean, I guess it is better (or is it) than when ABC had a show in which they were attempting to build the next boy band. I guess I’m really miffed because all that these “idols” do is sing (and yes, I know that is a lot, and they have a lot more talent than I do) other people’s songs. I mean, I would be much more impressed and willing to watch them if they showed off their own songs that THEY created from scratch ALL BY THEMSELVES … but, I guess that’s why I’m here complaining about American Idol, and that’s why they are their making tons of money … sigh.

I guess if Beethoven was around, he’d probably complain about the rock music I’m listening to … yeah, that’s right. I’m comparing myself to Beethoven, got a problem with that?

Los and Smoke, Episode 8

Get Bruced!!!!


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Forget the Pepperoni...

A close friend of mine, Yon, used to work at a pizza restaurant. Whilst watching the Birds beat the Giants this evening, he told some interesting stories about his time there that I thought I’d share with you … quite frankly, because they are downright funny.

Yon had not made salads for anybody at this place … this should give you an idea of where I’m going. A lady called and asked for just lettuce, and since Yon didn’t know any better, he ended up putting an entire head of lettuce, uncut, in a box and handed it to the lady. His only defense was that he thought that instead of going to the Supermarket, she wanted to stop at the pizza parlor for said head of lettuce. Makes sense … if you’re an idiot.

In another classic Yon mess-up, he was instructed to chop some onions. Now, Yon hated doing this because it always inevitably made him cry. He was eager to find a better way to cut an onion, and his coworkers were all too eager to help. Unfortunately, for Yon, these same coworkers were pranksters. They told him that to eliminate the strong smell of the onion, one had to wrap his head with saran wrap – this would neutralize the powerful stench, and prevent him from shedding tears. Sadly, Yon believed them, and ended up wrapping his noggin with plastic wrap in order to prevent himself from crying … it actually worked, however Yon almost suffocated as a result of this effort.

You know, I really have some “interesting” friends.

I Got Bruced!

Do you remember watching a movie as a child that you loved, and then years later, you watched it again and realized it was a genuine grade A piece of crap? Me too. This happened to me not too long ago. I had remembered going to the movies when I was around 8 or 9 to see “They Call Me Bruce.”

I remember coming out of the theatre thinking that this was probably the funniest movie that I was ever going to see. I was elated, yet sad, because I would never laugh as hard as I did during this “gem.” I remember going to the Mac Dade Mall with my cousins to view this “masterpiece.” For months afterwards, we couldn’t stop talking about this movie, and quoting some of the better lines, like, “I once got hit by a Toyota … oh what a feeling!”

A few months ago, whilst in Best Buy, I was perusing the discount DVD section, when, like a mythical sign from God, “They Call Me Bruce” literally fell into my hands. At $5.00, I could relive my childhood and own one of the all-time greatest flicks. I hurriedly rushed to the cash register, handing her the Lincoln, and waited eagerly for my workday to end.

On the ride home, I excitedly told my wife about this wonderful purchase, and explained to her how her life would change after watching this classic. The problem is that the movie absolutely sucked. It was so bad, that I started shaking and shivering, with thoughts of a misguided childhood full of lies running amuck in my mind. How could this be, I thought.

On a recent ride to work with my friend, Slant, I explained to him what had happened. We discussed this for nearly the entire 45-minute ride, and came up with a term for this. What had happened to me was that I “Got Bruced.” Slant and I came up with a couple of other flicks that gave us a severe Brucing – some of the more memorable ones include “Caveman,” “In God We Trust,” and “Modern Problems.” I am curious as to whether or not any of you got Bruced before, and which movies gave you a good Brucing.

Could Ya Keep the Noise Down, Please!

Just as I expected, it was much more difficult to go to work the day after New Years than it was the day after Christmas. I figured I would have plenty of time to recover whilst laying on the couch yesterday, but apparently, I could’ve used another day. My supervisor even said that my eyes were still a little puffy … great.

The funny part is (probably not really that funny, actually) that I wasn’t really that drunk by the time I went to bed on New Years morning. Sure, I was pretty toasted around midnight, thanks to some beer pong, two shots of Apfel Korn, and a shot of tequila.

But shortly after the ball dropped, a dance party broke out in the basement of my brother’s house. Apparently, I must’ve sweat all of the alcohol out of my system, because when my wife were getting ready to leave, I realized that I wasn’t slurring my words, I was walking straight, and there was only one of everybody I looked at. I’m not saying this is a bad thing, but I figured that I wouldn’t be hung over two days after this party. Damn tequila!

And Introducing Number 66...

I learned something on Friday night. Actually, I’m pretty upset with myself that I never gave it any thought before. Ladies and gentleman, one of our fellow bloggers missed his calling.

Friday night, the Rev and I went to the Khyber in Philly to see one of our favorite bands, Electric 6, perform. The first time we went, back in the summer, Rev wasn’t really too familiar with their stuff, but agreed to go with me, ‘cause he’s a helluva guy. We basically stood in the back of the Khyber, which, if you never been, is not all that different than one of the gates of hell. Still, E-6 rocked, and Smokin’ became a fan.

About 3 weeks ago, the Rev e-mails me and tells me that E-6 is coming back to the Khyber, and that we should go. I was thrilled to see them again, I was just kinda hopin’ that they would’ve chosen a different venue, like maybe the TLA. They were turning people away at the door, so I’m guessing E-6 probably could’ve gotten 1,000 people to show up.

Anyway, the Rev had one of his bright ideas, and said that we should go towards the front of the venue so that he could get some good picks of the band. I was game, but I knew that we’d probably regret it eventually. Sure, Smokin’ got some really good pics, but I’m still trying to figure out if it was worth it. We basically found ourselves on the edge of a rather rowdy mosh-pit.

Not that I’m a pussy, but I’ve tended to stay away from mosh-pits, mainly because I’m clumsy, a klutz, and basically, I’m “That Guy” – you know, the guy that somehow gets hurt with freak situations like getting elbowed in the face during a game of Frisbee football 1-week prior to my junior prom (yep – had a black eye – and the camera caught it perfectly in my prom photo).

Thankfully, I had the Rev as buffer. He was actively knockin’ people over left and right, like a prison guard in Alabama, and keeping the mosh pit from me. Watching him powerfully push the entire mosh pit to the other side of the room, I realized something. The Rev would’ve been a great offensive lineman – an all-pro, probably, had he decided to give that “profession” a serious shot, instead of taking a liking to reporting traffic.

Donovan McNabb probably would’ve won a few Super Bowls by now, if Smokin’ would’ve just put on the pads (no, not those feminine pads), and smothered the competition. Smokin’ is rapidly approaching his mid-30’s, so it’s probably too late for an NFL career at this point, but what if? It would’ve been something, dammit!

Happy New Year, All!

Stoppage Time

28???
My wife may have done the most amazing thing she has ever done the other day …. Watched 28 straight episodes of Wings. Now, I enjoyed that TV show years ago, and when it’s on, I tend to leave it on, but I don’t know if I could sit through more than 5 episodes of this show, or any show, without taking a break. I admire her “stick-to-it-tiveness.”

So Long, Mr. President
President Ford passed away the other day, and I’m sad that I don’t know much about him. He sounded like a really nice guy who never got a chance to display what he could do as president. He was too busy cleaning up after Nixon … so much so, that it ended up costing him the Presidential race of 1976 … or so I’m told. He always seemed like a cool guy, a guy that could take jokes in stride, but would hold his own against anybody and everybody. Even though he went to the University of Michigan, I still respect the guy.

You’re Reading What???
Yeah, I’m reading a book … not just any book, but a book about Eric Bischoff, former president of WCW. I know, sound pretty lame, doesn’t it? Some people have vices like secretly loving Brittany Spears songs, or liking the color pink. Nope, not me – I LOVE reading books about pro wrestling. I have no idea why, but I’m fascinated by this industry – all the backstage politics, the partying lifestyles, the struggles of redemption … o.k., I’ll stop talkin’.

Happy New Year, All!
I know this post was short … many of you are breathing a deep sigh of relief. Seriously, though. I wish all of you a happy, safe, and healthy New Year, and may we all come back blogging stronger than ever in 2007!!!!

2007 Predictions

I haven’t done this in a while, and to tell you the truth, I wasn’t a very good prognosticator (I think I would win the gold medal in scrabble with that one). But, what the hell – I’ll give it a shot.

10. I think that one of the 4 “F*ckhats” will pass away this year. You know – Nicole, Paris, Brittany, or Lindsay. I’m not wishing this on them, mind you, but I can just see something like this happening. My guess is that it’s gonna be Nicole, probably starving herself to death or something like that. Again, I’m not wishing this on her.

9. Barry Bonds’ knees are going to fall off during a baseball games. Now, unlike #10, I am wishing this on him.

8. T.O. will get released from the Cowboys. The guy has a knack for ruining pro teams. In fact, I’m surprised that FOX hasn’t put together a reality show based on this yet.

7. The Phillies will be in the wild card race until the last week of the season … like every year.

6. We will either get confirmation that we were successful in “terminating” Osama Bin Laden, or we will find out that he had died about a year ago … again, unlike #10, I am wishing this on him.

5. The Rolling Stones will finally end their “Bigger Bang” Tour that started in 2005.

4. There will be another “new” Tupac cd out, with “all new material” … even though the man has been dead for close to 10 years (or more).

3. Burger King will be producing a 10 patty hamburger (I think they’ve already done 5, so what the hell).

2. The Reverend will post another blog entry on his site (which means he’ll have a new job – go Steve!!!!).

1. There will be a “Best of” President Bush funny lines DVD out … and it will be the best selling DVD of the year.

Merry Christma, Y'all!

I found this hilarious Christmas poem on a website called funnypoets.com, and after my last blog rant, I thought it was fitting. Enjoy, and have a Merry (safe, happy, and healthy) Christmas:

A Politically Correct Christmas Story

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves".
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labour conditions at the North Pole
were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorised use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,

Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he'd never had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.

Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim, Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamoured or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls, or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacifistic.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, dishevelled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.

He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.

A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
May you and your loved ones, enjoy peace on Earth.

Los and Smoke, Episode 7

Ho-ho-ho - check out the new podcast, AND check out my latest post (below this podcast)



Click here to get your own player.

Happy Holidays????

I recently heard of a news story that made me scratch my head a little (o.k., a lot). Apparently, Seattle’s airport had a bunch of Christmas trees up, and a Rabbi lodged a complaint about this, basically complaining that the airport wasn’t celebrating Chanukah. The airport ended up taking down all of the Christmas trees because of this.

I understand that our country is a big melting pot, and because of this, sometimes there are religious holidays that get ignored. So, would it have been nice if the Seattle airport had acknowledged Chanukah as well? Sure, that would’ve been great. But do we have to take down all Christmas decorations because of some complaints? Again, I’m scratching my head.

A suitable solution would’ve been if the Rabbi brought in some Chanukah decorations for the airport to put up, instead of lodging a complaint. Wouldn’t this have been better? JFK’s famous saying came to mind, when he said, “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” If we eliminate country, and add airport to this phrase, you might be able to see my point.

Not to dis anybody or any religion, but it’s gotten to the point now, where I am afraid to wish anybody a Merry Christmas because I’m afraid I just might offend them. Geez, if somebody wished me a happy Chanukah, I wouldn’t be offended. I might chuckle a little if you wished me a happy Kwanzaa. If I walked into a store with just Chanukah decorations up, again, it wouldn’t bother me. So, why does it bother so many people when only Christmas decorations are up? Seriously, educate me on this – I’m ready to listen.

You Will Be Missed, Sir!

A very “influential” part of my childhood passed away yesterday. That’s right – I’m talkin’ about Joe Barbera … part of Hanna-Barbera … the man who helped create such cartoon legends as Tom and Jerry, Yogi Bear, and Huckleberry Hound. I know, I know, most of today’s kids probably have no idea who these icons of the “Technicolor” screen are … and maybe they have an idea who the Flintstones were/are. But, I watched these cartoons daily as a youngster. So, in your honor, Mr. Barbera, I will do a top-5 list of my favorite Hanna-Barbera Characters:

5. Yogi Bear always made me laugh. He was an interesting character in that he was always outsmarting the ranger, but always seemed to be outsmarted by everyone else. Of course, everyone remembers his famous tag-line, “I’m smarter than the average bear!.” However, he never seemed to be smarter than the average bee, as he always seemed to be getting stung in his “bear” ass.

4. I’ve probably seen just about every incarnation of Tom and Jerry. However, my favorite ones were the ones with the old maid in them … you probably can’t remember these, because in this PC world, they have “creatively” edited her out. I’m sure the idea was that this was good for society … but basically, they ripped that part of my childhood away from me.

3. The Flintstones, as most “older” people probably know, were a blatant rip-off of the Honeymooners. In my mind, that never took away from the cartoon, though. Something I just found out today was that this cartoon was originally run during prime-time hours, much like the Simpsons and Family Guy. My question is, when the Simpsons finally wraps up, will people in 20 or 30 years realize it was a primetime cartoon? Damn, that Kazoo (or however you spell it).

2. The Wacky Racers – This one is probably not well known, but as a child, I couldn’t get enough of this cartoon. Every episode, there was a car (or plane) race with the same characters – and every week a different character won. Some of the better known characters included Penelope Pitstop, Dick Dastardly (who always cheated, but never won), and the Gruesome Twosome. Dastardly’s dog, Mutley, was my favorite.

Without a doubt, my favorite cartoon was Quickdraw McGraw, especially the ones in which he would turn into his alter-ego, “El-Kabong!” Basically, he would go after bad guys and smack them over the head with a guitar. If you tell me that Mr. Barbera never partook in drugs, this would be my biggest “evidence” to prove he did. What a genius!


Please, list any cartoons that you liked. I left off a big one, Scooby Doo, I know. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the cartoon, but that whole Scrappy Doo season killed it for me.

Stoppage Time

Damn You, Golden Tee!
I think I pumped about $20 into the Golden Tee machine at a local bar on Friday night. The game is just way too addicting. I think if I had this machine in my house, along with Megatouch, I probably would never leave the house again. I did ask for the Golden Tee plug and play game for Christmas – I know it won’t be quite as good graphically, but I’m hoping the game-play is acceptable … I’m such a loser.

‘Tis the Season!
I went to a holiday party … oh screw it, IT WAS A CHRISTMAS PARTY, at my friend “Barbara’s” house last night … I’m still recovering as we speak (well, type) … I’m trying to type quietly as I’m having difficulty with the louder keystrokes. The food was incredible (chicken cacciatore wings, pork balls wrapped in bacon … drool!), and I probably indulged in too many “holiday shots.” Also, Eric, you should be pleased by this – there was a keg!

I Really Should’ve Just Slept it Off
I decided that I had to wash my car today … and let me tell ya, this is not a fun task to do whilst hung-over. It’s that German guilt that my parents so graciously instilled in me as a child that “forced” me to do this. I was laying on the couch, trying to sleep, and my mind kept telling me I had to do this … again, I’m such a loser.

You’re Wearing What?
I got fitted for Smokin’s wedding on Saturday as well (geez, what a hectic weekend!). Now, this won’t be a traditional wedding. Instead, it will be an Indian-style wedding (no, not the Tonto-type), so the groomsmen will be dressed in Indian garb. My wife keeps telling me I got fitted for a dress. I am sure we will have plenty pictures to share in April. I look forward to this though, for many reasons – (A) Smokin’ is one of my best friends and he’s marrying a great gal, (B) I’ll probably get to break out my drunken Mick Jagger dance, and (C) I get to wear comfy clothes to this wedding (not the traditional uncomfortable tuxedo).

All I Want For Christmas

I’ve probably blogged about this before, but hey, I’m allowed to blog about it again if I want, so there. Christmas is a time to remember Christ, family, friends … and of course PRESENTS!!!! We probably all have favorite Christmas memories about favorite presents we received, and I decided I would be kind enough to share with you a few of my favorites (humor me!).

1. The Oscar the Grouch Alarm Clock – For some reason, I remember seeing this in some sort of catalogue as a child, and since I was a big fan of Sesame Street (and an even bigger fan of Oscar the Grouch), I REALLY, REALLY wanted this. My parents were excellent in hiding this from me, saying things like “Santa Claus probably won’t be able to get this present for you.” I was defeated – I figured there was no way I was going to get to wake up to Oscar’s grouchy voice every morning. My parents hid this gift from me and somehow snuck it into my pile of presents at the very end. I remember opening it, and being flushed with excitement and emotion so much that all I could do was hold my head and jump up and down repeatedly for about 5 minutes. For months, Oscar woke me up, and it was truly heaven. But, because I am a klutz, I ended up breaking it somehow. Recently, I searched for this clock on Ebay, and they run for about $200 now – geez!

2. The Atari 2600 – At the time, it was called the Atari VCS … which gives you an idea of how old I am. I loved arcades and arcade machines … I’ve loved them for about as long as I can remember. For instance, I remember going into a department store called Two Guys. They had some sort of primitive racing machine that I was always fixated on. I think my mom allowed me to play it a few times, and I was hooked. You could imagine my excitement when I discovered the Atari 2600 in a Sears catalogue. My cousin Drew and I couldn’t stop talking about it. Again, my mom played one helluva poker hand, saying that the price was too much for a Christmas present (at the time, it was $129). But, Inga did end up buying it for me, and I must’ve played that thing about 10,000 hours (or more). The first game I got (besides Combat, which came with the Atari) was Space Invaders – I swore it was like I had an arcade in my basement (not entirely true, but close enough). It didn’t take me long to find those “secret games” within the games – you would have to flick the game on and off in a certain way to find these games – it was kind of like the first cheat code. I found one with Space Invaders in which I was able to shoot twice as fast (I’ve probably lost most of you with this one).

3. Mr. Quarterback – Sure, looking back on this gift, it was a piece of shite. But, the thought of having my very own “quarterback” throwing me 20 to 30 yard passes was enticing. I couldn’t wait to give it a try. Unfortunately, Mr. Quarterback (which was promoted by that jackass Roger Staubach) only “threw” the football about 5 yards or so … not even a perfect spiral. This is probably why Mr. Quarterback is no longer being sold.

4. The Green Machine – Now, I didn’t actually get this gift, but my two cousins did. I was PISSED! Man, did I want to have the Corvette of big wheels instead of the crappy orange one with yellow wheels that I currently possessed. I’m tellin’ ya, this big wheel was awesome – it reached incredible speeds and one could spin out like Dale Earnhardt with it. I was about as jealous with this one as I was when my cousin Drew got those Zips sneakers (the ones that “made” you run fast – or at least that’s what they said in the commercials).

Stoppage Time

Yup – I Did It Again

Every six months or so, I do it. I’m about as regular as a T.O. outburst at this point. What am I talkin’ about? Glad ya asked. While preparing dinner the other night, I accidentally cut two of my fingers. The one finger cut was more like a paper cut – hurt like hell, bled quite a bit, but not too serious. However, I cut a decent sliver off of my other finger, and that sucker bled for a few hours – probably should’ve gone to the hospital, but that’s not my style (mainly, because I’m scared shitless of hospitals). So, now I find it difficult to type, and can’t play my guitar for at least a little while. This is a vicious cycle for me – I cut my finger, then I become very careful in the kitchen for a little while, and then I end up becoming careless again … so in about June, I should be ready for another finger-cutting.

Yup – He Did It Again

Just like me, Ric Flair seems to be regular. However, he doesn’t cut his fingers while preparing dinner … or at least he doesn’t talk about doing this. Nope – he’s regular in that he gets married, and then ends up getting divorced shortly after. I think the number for him now is 5 ex-wives. This got me to thinking – shouldn’t there be a three-strike rule with regards to marriages? After your third divorce, shouldn’t your right to marry be revoked, just for the sake of saving you the time and trouble from being moronic more times?

Yup – She Did It Again

I’m not really that concerned about celebrity gossip, but I had to chuckle when I heard that Nicole Ritchie was arrested for driving the wrong way on a highway (in the car-pool lane, no less). I think she should probably be put down at this point, for the good of … well, everybody. Apparently, when she was pulled over …. AT 4:50 AM … she confessed to have taken Vicodin AND smoking weed. She weighed in at a “svelte” 85 pounds at the time, by the way. Lionel must be thrilled with the publicity that his retarded daughter is getting. The good news is that if she dies, they can probably bury her in a shoebox (of course, I don’t wish that on anybody … except Barry Bonds).

Urinal Ettiquette

I received this from a friend, and wanted to share - I found it hysterical:

Urinal Etiquette

Awareness is the key to avoiding everything from terrorism and wars to bathroom embarrassment. This is by no means a complete list but to date 12/8/2006 this is what we’ve seen so far. But this may help you avoid embarrassment as well as prepare you for what you may see out there. It can be traumatic.

Mourner –The most proper position according to urinal etiquette. Both hands where they should be and looking downward as if you are mourning the loss of a loved one.

Leaner – This urinal patron feels the need to use one arm to steady themselves on the wall. Someone of this class usually also subscribes to the Grunter classification.

Grunter – A Grunter can be mixed with any other class, but involves a lot of vocalization while they perform the duties at the urinal. Usually consist of grunts, groans, and general sounds of enjoyment. Too much for being alone usually with a few other men in the room.

Look Ma, No Hands – The LMNH is a very proud individual. They place both hands on their hips with their arms at 30 degree angles allowing gravity to work its magic. Often is associated with a LookeeLoo and a Gabber.

Napper – A Napper enjoys the feel of cold tiles against him as he leaves his gift to the urinal gods. He places both arms on the wall behind the urinal from hand to elbow and usually places his head onto his arms. Sort of a mix between the LMNH and a Leaner.

Runner – This patron acts as if he is running a marathon while at the urinal. Heavy breathing and sweating are common signs that this person is a Runner.

LookeeLoo – A LookeeLoo is an individual that feels the need to peek over at the patron next to them at the urinal. No one truly knows their reasons, do they want a peek? Do they just want to see who is there? It’s a mystery to be sure.

Gabber – A man that feels the need to talk to the individual next to them in the urinal stalls. This conversation is never interesting and usually consist about a stupid joke about work, the weather, or the act of peeing itself. This is a vast breach of etiquette and should never be done; especially if you mix a Gabber with a LookeeLoo.

Swayer – Very simple classification where the man at the stall feels the need to sway back and forth while they do their duty.

Spitter – A patron that feels the need to hawk a loogie in the urinal stall. Not only rude but disgusting and should never be done. If you do this, stop immediately. Some people do not appreciate seeing your mucus while they are using the urinal.

Full Mooner – Mostly seen among the youngest of urinal goers; the Full Mooner drops everything for the entire world to see while they do their business. This is the largest breach of etiquette known to man today and should be punishable by death.

Flubber – From the phrase “to flub”. Someone who can’t aim and ends up peeing on the wall, sides of the urinal. This patron results in future users standing further away from the urinal which increases the chances of the LookeeLoo.

Stalker – A person that always seems to be at the urinal at the exact same time as you regardless of the time of the day. Whenever you feel the need to go, you can be sure this man will be right there waiting for you.

Ripper – This patron always seems to let out a stream of flatulence while you are standing next to him while performing his duties at the urinal.

Ghoster – The person that seems to do nothing but stand there usually due to pee shyness. But don’t worry, there is help for you: www.paruresis.com/.

Hiker - While not technically at the stall itself, this patron will travel far distances to find an empty restroom.

6 Wicked Things

OK – I’ve been tagged. Now, I am going to do this thingy, but I am NOT tagging anyone else. It goes against my belief structure. However, if anybody wants to do this as well, please, go right ahead.

THE RULES: Each player of this game starts with the “6 wicked things about you”. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 wicked things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says “you are tagged” in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

1. I HATE ham. I can’t stand the sight, smell, taste, or feel of ham. I got sick on ham as a child on a few occasions, and I’m guessing this is probably why I feel this way. My former coworkers (at Lockheed) gave me a picture of ham as a going away present … not sure if they did it out of love or were happy to see me go, though.

2. I once got hit by a car when I was crossing the street on my way to play street hockey over at a friend’s house. There was a change in traffic patterns at the place I crossed, and I didn’t realize this. The lady hit me, and I got thrown about 10 feet. I ended up getting up, and continued on my way to play hockey, even though the lady was hysterical. I thought that would be it, BUT the lady knew my mom, and called her to make sure I was ok. When I came back from the hockey game, my mom was waiting for me at the front door – worried sick about me. Oops.

3. At a New Year’s party when I was in high school, I learned the whole “Beer before liquor, never sicker rule,” as I drank a few cans of beer, then switched to vodka and orange juice … and then, when the orange juice ran out, I attempted to drink vodka and milk … I eventually threw up all over myself, a couch, and the living room floor .

4. I have repeatedly given the “Dutch Oven” treatment to my wife in the past … somehow, I have grown out of this … I’m thinking because I no longer find this as funny as I used to.

5. I once worked at a place for 10 minutes … before I quit. I was in 9th grade, and it was a restaurant that I enjoyed going to. When I found out some disgusting “behind-the-scene” occurrences, I ended up telling the manager that I would be right back, and I ended up walking home … never to return.

6. When I worked as a P.R. intern for the Eagles in 1996, I decided to skip a Christmas party that was being thrown by Rodney Peete for players and staff, mainly because I was getting sick of the hours I was working (for free, by the way). I came to work the next Monday, and found out that Michael Jordan was at the party and he took pictures with all the staff members … I’m an idiot.

Who Does Number 2 Work For?

(This was a post I had done a few years ago on my old website, but since I just started working at a new company, I think it is fitting, as now I will have to figure out when and where to … well, you’ll get the picture after reading this post.)

I wanted to put together an observation that demonstrated my quirkiness, was funny, and was a topic that many of you could either agree with wholeheartedly, or vehemently disagree with. Without much luck, I decided to take a bathroom break, and that is when I had my "epiphany." As some of you know, I have a certain quirk about going to the bathroom, and I know some of you are with me on this, and some of you are against me.

O.K., my quirk isn't anything disgusting, as is usually the case. It's just that I don't like taking a growler in public restrooms, work restrooms, or any restrooms outside of my house. I find that my best works of "spin art" take place in the confines of my home commode, particularly, the one upstairs. There are times in which I am not at home and nature calls, and I will be forced to drop the trunks in foreign places. This usually happens at work. When I was employed by Penn State Delaware County, I knew the best times of finding an empty restroom at just about any place on campus. In fact, sometimes I would travel clear across campus, just so I could enjoy peace and quiet whilst hanging bananas.

When I left Penn State for Lockheed Martin, my biggest fear would be having to use lavatory facilities that would either be crowded all day, or ones with inconsistent usage - ones in which I wouldn't be able to gauge when a good time to "sink the Bismarck" would be. My fears were warranted, as there seems to never be a time when I can walk into a vacant bathroom to take care of my business. In fact, on numerous occasions, I have traveled to all four restroom facilities in a row in order to find one with nobody in it, so that I could "take the Browns to the Super Bowl."

Unfortunately, once a vacant restroom is found, often times somebody will enter while I'm in the middle of "drowning the brown." I hate this with a passion. I am like a church mouse with this, in that I will stop my crapping until that person leaves. Of course, it is entirely possible that more people will come in - I have spent 25 minutes or more in my own stink a few times, waiting for the coast to be clear. But the thing that pisses me off the most is when I'm in one stall, and somebody else comes in and takes a seat next to me in the other stall. I think it should be common courtesy to not occupy the stall next to one that is being used. I need to be focused to get my job done, and I can't do that when the person next to me is releasing mud eels. It's just not in it for me to be able to do this.

Now, I know some of you take great pride in sharing your crapping experiences with others in the restroom. Some of you go out of the way to be loud, obnoxious, and absolutely smelly in the bathroom. A precious few of you will have conversations with others while "planting the corn." Are you kidding me? How is this possible? Please - this is a private thing. I refuse to let my wife come into the bathroom at home while I'm "feeding the dung beetles." It is my time to be alone, relaxed, and enjoying the smell. I can't do that with others around, forcing their stench on me. No offense, I'm sure you are all great guys, but I don't want to know how your poopie smells or sounds.

Of course, there are some people who take the quirk to a whole new level. First of all, let me say that I am not making this up. Some people actually wrap their hand in toilet paper, and catch their poop so that it does not make any noise. That is truly disgusting and I find no redeeming qualities in that at all. I can accept the fact that some people layer the toilet with paper so that it doesn't splash and it muffles the sound, but people who catch their poop should really consider some psychiatric help, because something isn't right.

Now, before I wrap this observation up, I have some suggestions on how my public dumping experience can be improved. First of all, companies, restaurants, and bars should eliminate stalls, and make personal bathrooms in restrooms with a real door, and real walls, so that the sound and smell can be stifled a little bit. Secondly, there should be some sort of white noise being pumped in these rooms, so that the sound will be hidden even more. I am sure these probably aren't the most efficient, both from a monetary and spatial-use perspective, but my ass and I would surely appreciate it.

Los and Smoke's Bogus Journey

This Saturday, I had the “pleasure” of hangin’ out with the Reverend Smokin’ Steve – albeit it was at a Philadelphia Kixx soccer game, but still. I was looking forward to the free t-shirt, some good indoor soccer, and possibly checkin’ out some of the MILF’s at the game. Little did I know, it would be an experience in itself just trying to get to the game.

In case some of you don’t know, the Rev is the backup P.A. announcer for the Kixx, and as of yet, he hasn’t had the opportunity to call a game. Plus, Smokin’ has never experienced a KIXX game before, and the team gave him free tickets, so that he could get a better feel for the job responsibilities of the P.A. announcer.

Smokin’ chose last night’s game, which would’ve normally been a good choice, considering the free t-shirt giveaway. HOWEVER, thanks to the short-sightedness of the cities athletic teams, schedulers, and coordinators, the KIXX game (as well as the Flyers game) started at 7:00 p.m. … around the same time as the Army vs. Navy football game was ending.

For those of you unfamiliar, Army/Navy is a huge college football game, usually held in Philly. On the weekend of the game, the city, and South Philly in particular, is overrun by people representing Army and Navy. Most people know that during game-time, it is probably a good idea to avoid South Philly (the location of the stadiums). One would even think that the people who schedule games and events in the other stadiums (the Spectrum, the Wachovia Center, etc.) would either move their games back to maybe 8:00 or 9:00 to accommodate the fans leaving and entering, OR just not bother scheduling games on that day at all.

However, for some reason, these schedulers were about as inept as overweight football referees. It was traumatic, to say the least. I think it may have taken the Rev and me about an hour to find a parking spot … in a location we didn’t even know would be open by the time the KIXX game was over. We had to walk about another 15 minutes to get to the Spectrum, and were lucky enough to make it to our seats just before the start of the game.

We were the lucky ones. Throughout the first half, and into the third quarter, I saw families just making it to their seats for the first time. They had it worse than we did. They got ripped off by missing the entire first half of the game, AND having to go through the headache of dealing with traffic cops and event staff members who had no idea what they were supposed to do. Although I have no proof, I blame John Street (mainly, because I blame everything on John Street).

The rest of the night went much more smoothly. Smokin’ even caught a soccer ball.

Stoppage Time

Nice Beaver!
So, there’s been a lot of talk and pictures about the recent escapades of the tri-captains of Bimbo Nation – Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, and Brittany Spears. Seriously, I haven’t seen this much roast beef since I was at the deli. There is now an “argument” or discussion going on as to whether these three rocket-scientists accidentally didn’t wear underwear. Seriously? First of all, why are we spending this much time on these mentally challenged women that make retards blush? Can’t we just enjoy the beaver shots? Obviously, they are doing this on purpose to create publicity for their talent-less asses (as pretty as they may be). Can we just try and ignore them (maybe not the pics)?

Last Day!
Normally, I’m pretty good with my emotions. But, I have this feeling that I’m going to get a little teary-eyed when I leave work today (as you may know, I’m switching jobs). I’m not going to miss the actual work, but I’ve made a lot of good friends here, and the thought of not seeing them every day – I know it’s going to be tough. I am sure I will make friends at Vanguard – heck it’s a great company, which means it has great employees. Plus, I had the same issues and concerns when I left Penn State (I am still friends with many people there). I will miss you, office clowners!!!!

The Sad State of Philadelphia Sports
I try not to write too much about sports here, because quite frankly, many of you could care less about sports. However, when my city’s best chance at a championship is basically the Philadelphia Phillies, I think I deserve to rant a little. What happened to my teams???? Usually, they would string me out an entire season before breaking my heart? Now, they just throw in the towel long before the midway point. Is this how Detroit Lions fans feel every year? If so, I am NOT a fan of this! Granted, with the lack of offseason moves by the Sixers, we expected the outcomes that we are getting. And sure, the Flyers are slow, but the team is usually competitive – BUT NOT THIS YEAR! Weren’t the Eagles supposed to come back hungry? They look famished to me. Do I really need to start getting excited for the Philadelphia Soul, and maybe the next big race-horse from the tri-state area? Ugh!

3 More Days ...

My days are winding down at Lockheed, and while I won’t miss the monotonous work that I was “in charge of,” I will dearly miss my coworkers/friends who I’ve had the fortune of clowning around with over the past few years. Reverse, Ink, JoeP and –B- always helped to make coming to work worthwhile, even if we didn’t exactly love our jobs. One would never know what was in store – whether it was throwing the football around outside during our “smoke breaks,” or going to the Moorestown mall to catch a movie during a long lunch break. These are the things I’ll miss dearly. My hope is that I’ll find coworkers at Vanguard that are half as fun/funny as these guys, because I know I’ll never be able to replace them.

Another hope of mine is that my new employer, Vanguard, will be my employer for an extended period of time – possibly the rest of my career. I had hoped this was the case with Lockheed as well, but it becomes obvious that if you don’t have a military background, it is darn near impossible to move up in the company, no matter how valued an employee you are.

I am excited, but at the same time nervous about this new opportunity. I know deep down that I’ll be fine, but anytime you go through a change this big, you worry. I’m leaving a position that I had grown accustomed to. I knew what was expected of me, and I knew that I could easily meet those expectations. I knew what I could expect from coworkers, and I knew the “loop-holes” in the department. Now, much like Henry Hudson and Lewis and Clarke, I will be entering a world of unknowns.

I’ve switched jobs a few times before, and each time, I had this uncertainty … but each time, I’ve done pretty well for myself. It has always been a goal of mine, no matter where I was employed, to become a valued and trusted employee – and so far, I’ve done pretty well with that, I think. As I move on to Vanguard, I know that with time, I’ll once again be in that position, but I know that I will have to work hard to get there.

Sorry for the “not funny” blog – just felt I needed to say something about this.

You're What????

It seems like every Thanksgiving, a bunch of friends of mine – we get together and reminisce about old times, and this past Friday (after our annual “old-guys” turkey bowl football game) was no exception. One particular story got us really cracking up. This diddy involves a good friend of mine, we’ll call him Yon.

It seems about 10 years ago, he began dating this girl, and went out with her on a few occasions. During this one date, they went to a Chris Rock concert. Yon, who was … how can I put this … sheltered as a youth, was quite amazed by the make-up of the audience at this show …. So amazed, that he actually leaned over to his date and said something along the lines of, “Wow, it looks like we are the only two white people here.”

This is kind of funny on its own … however, the story actually gets funnier. What Yon somehow didn’t know was that this girl he was dating was a Mulatto. So, technically, Yon was the only white person at the concert. From what I got out of the story, she didn’t really tell him at this point about her ethnicity. In fact, Yon didn’t really put one-and-one together until a few dates later, when he was over at her place, and he noticed a lot of African art on the walls.

Of course, we spent the rest of the afternoon/evening at the bar cracking up about this and absolutely busting his ball (he only has one – long story) about this. I think we even incorporated some Michael Richards jokes into this. Good times all around.

Los and Smoke, Episode 6

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!


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Another Tradition Bites the Dust???

Interboro is not playing Ridley this year on Thanksgiving Day. Who cares, you may ask? Well … probably not many people outside of Delaware County, but I do, dammit! This football rivalry has been going on since the 1960’s – and while there are many other high school rivalries that have a longer tradition, this was “my” high school rivalry.

I also fear that because of the PIAA (Pennsylvania’s high school athletic association), Thanksgiving day rivalries may become a thing of the past in this state. This is atrocious on many, many levels. For instance, many high schools make a boat-load of money on these Thanksgiving rivalries, that they can put back into athletics. Interboro (my high school) is one of them. How will they be able to recover these funds? I’m afraid I don’t have the answer to this.

Secondly, many kids growing up looked forward to playing in this big game. If it no longer exists, will some of these kids no longer have interest in sports? Maybe I’m being a little too dramatic with this, but with the interest in playing sports decreasing (thanks to other “hobbies” like television, computers, game consoles), this may be the straw that breaks the camel’s back for some.

Additionally, may alumni go to these games to reconnect with other alumni – this has happened to me, and it is one of the things I truly enjoy about Thanksgiving. Now what? I’m sure I can go to the local watering holes to reconnect with alumni who have come back to visit family and friends, but it’s not the same.

The PIAA probably has a number of reasons for not allowing playoff teams to play Thanksgiving day games. But, is it really that bad to push back the playoffs one week, so we can keep this tradition? Other states do this? Why is PA different? I guess I’ll just have to spend the day at home, nursing my annual Thanksgiving hangover.

I Don't Like Shopping Malls

I Don’t Think I Like Shopping Malls Much

My wife and I went Christmas shopping on Saturday at the Christiana Mall in Delaware, and I realized something. I hate malls. Maybe it’s just during Christmas season, but I am annoyed with others who are shopping, the ridiculous prices, and trying to find a parking space. For some reason, I’d much rather go to Target, Circuit, City, Best Buy, or any other department store – please don’t hold that against me.

I spent the entire day at the mall, going into stores, looking at price tags, and thinking to myself that I could do so much more better than this. I’ve realized something about myself. I love to find bargains … this is probably a trait that I got from my mom. But additionally, I don’t enjoy shopping in places where I can’t find anything that I would like to have for myself. I understand that Christmas shopping isn’t about me, totally, however, if I’m in a store, like Pottery Barn, and I find nothing that I long for, I have a tough time purchasing something for others. Maybe, it’s just an illness or something.

My wife told me that I can’t go around buying CDs, DVDs, and games for others, just because I like them. I understand that, but sometimes I just can’t put my mind to buying things for others when I’m not inspired.

Perfect example – we were in this store, and my wife found this photo album that she thought was really cute. I shrugged, and told her that if anybody ever bought me a photo album (without any pictures in it), I’d be offended. It’s not that I don’t like photo albums, but this seems like something I could buy on my own if I needed it, much like socks and underwear.

So, I ended up buying a few little things. My wife was probably pissed off that she spent a day shopping with me – she could do so much better on her own.

In a few days, we’ll be swamped with offers and advertisements for Black Friday. I’ve seen some “sneak previews” from some stores, and I’m intrigued. The thing is that I really don’t feel like getting up at 4:00 a.m. to go Christmas shopping.

Stoppage Time

That’s My Boss!
Don’t you hate bosses that never seem to keep their employees informed about anything? Yep, you guessed it. I have a boss like this. For starters, he goes on vacation without telling anybody … that’s right, you heard me … WITHOUT TELLING ANYBODY! Isn’t this something you might want to mention to people you manage, in case they were wondering where you were? I’m not telling you to give out your cellphone number or anything like that, but just inform everybody that you will be out of the office for the week, and that if you need any help with something, either put it aside, or have somebody serving as your “right-hand man” while you are out.

If that was all he did, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. HOWEVER, he shits on his underlings in other fascinating ways. For instance, he apparently is interviewing people for potential openings in our department. I’m not saying he has to give us pages of background information on each candidate, BUT if he brings them around to us, maybe he should give us a little more information than just saying, “Hey, this is Donna.” Yep, that’s it. I don’t know if I should know the person, or who this person really is. It really pisses me off.

Plus, if he is going to be out of the office for the day, maybe on travel to a meeting in Dahlgren or Bloomsburg, he could maybe tell the office, just in case somebody important was looking for him (yep – this happened to me today).

I’m not sure if I’m more upset with the fact that he does this, or that with all of these “qualifications,” he is my boss. I guess that’s a toss-up. Thank goodness it’s Friday.


Should You Really Be Throwing Darts?
A friend of mine was throwing darts whilst inebriated a few nights ago. On more than one occasion, he walked up to the line to throw darts, and realized he didn’t have the darts in his hands. On another occasion, he told another dart thrower to aim for the M … I think this needs some explanation. On a regular dart board, the 11 can resemble an M … WHEN YOU ARE PLASTERED! I think I’m gonna make a shirt up for him that says “Don’t Drink and Dart.”

Random Conversation of the Week
My wife and I were watching the news, and there was a story about severe weather in the Carolinas in which 11 people died. The odd part about this story was that the reporter said something along the lines of “the death toll is at 11.” It got me to thinking – when is it o.k. to use the “death toll” line? My wife and I decided that if more than 99 people die, using “death toll” is justified. However, anything less, and it is wrong to do so.

This Smells Like Grandma

You’ve probably heard that elephants go off to an elephant cemetery to die when they get old, right? Well, I think we can make that same connection with old people at the Showboat casino in Atlantic City. I have never seen so many elderly people in a single place (I’m sure the Billy Graham concerts have a similar turnout). In a way, it is deeply depressing to me. I felt really bad and really sorry for these octogenarians.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time in Atlantic City this weekend – basically broke even, and since the room was free, I feel that I made out pretty well. But man, you could bring a busload of kindergarteners into the place, and I don’t think the average age of casino patrons would drop. Is this all that is left for you when you get old – cashing your social security check and taking the casino bus down to Atlantic City and handing this money over to the casinos?

On a more positive note, the new shopping area at Caesars is phenomenal. Sure, most stores are out of my ballpark, but window shopping there is amazing. Plus, the restaurants/bars they have there are excellent. Two restaurants should be very familiar to Philadelphians – Buddakhan and The Conttinental – catering to upscale and trendy dining and drinking. Additionally, there is a very cool sports bar called Game On, with stadium seating, and countless televisions – I’m guessing it gets really crowded during games, but the atmosphere will probably be great. This shopping area, along with the Borgata, and the French Quarter at the Tropicana are attempts by Atlantic City to compete against Las Vegas … now I’m not saying that they are in the same ballpark as Vegas, but at the very least, they are finally making an effort. And since A.C. is only an hour away from my house, this is a good thing.

C'Mon Lucky 7's!!!!

As you may know, I am going to A.C. today and tomorrow to celebrate my 3-year wedding anniversary … oh yeah, my wife is going too. You’re probably wondering whether I like the tables or the slots, aren’t you (throw me a bone, and pretend you are interested!). Well, my answer to that is … I like both. And no, it’s not a sellout answer … and no, I’m not gay either.

Seriously, it depends on what kind of mood I’m in, and how crowded the casino floor is (and yes, it depends on the minimum bet amount on the tables). As far as which table games I like, I have a few. I’ll play some black jack here and there, but it’s not one of my favorites – to tell ya the truth, I don’t know all of the “rules” involved with which cards to hit, when to double up, etc. (I know the easy ones). I also play craps every once in a while, but not whilst intoxicated (I end up making far too many bets, and waking up in the morning wondering how the hell my wallet was emptied). I enjoy Pai Gow poker, but you don’t really win a lot of money in this one (or lose a lot of money either). Once in a while, I’ll play Texas Hold-em, but I get stage fright when I’m not at a table with friends, and playing Hold-em when you’re scared is never a good idea.

As far as slots go, I like video poker … especially if the machine is built into a bar with sports going on (which I’m hoping to find today – I know that Bally’s Wild Wild West has this, but if there’s country music playing, I’m not going to be enjoying myself). I’ll also play a little of the Wheel of Fortune game – won quite a bit of money on this out in Vegas … unfortunately, the A.C. slots aren’t nearly as loose as them (great, now I’m sounding like one of those “blue-hairs”).

It may be a little crowded on Sunday, but it should be rather empty on Monday, so we’ll see. All I know is that I gotta be near a tv (Eagles game and fantasy football) on today.

Three Years, Already?

Three years … this week I celebrate three years of being married. It came as a shock to me, as I’m not sure how my wife has done it. I really thought that nobody was capable of putting up with me for that long. And the funny part is, I think she still loves me. How is this possible? Does this seem appealing to anybody – a guy who loves sports, the Rolling Stones, and pro wrestling?

My wife and I originally met on a blind date. I don’t think either of us thought much of it. I know she probably lost interest, when the first topic of conversation that I mustered was political talk – specifically, how I thought John McCain would’ve been a better president than G.W. Now, let me make this clear – I hardly EVER talk politics, mainly because the mere thought of all of the political corruptness on both sides makes me vomit internally. But for some reason, this was what came out of my mouth.

Sure, the date eventually went better, and we ended up having a good time, BUT usually the first impression you give is the one that most people remember. The first impression that I got was, “Wow, this girl is really cute!” This probably explains why I came up with a brainfart of a topic to discuss.

After a few days, I called her, but she didn’t return it. I figured I’d make one last ditch effort to talk to her on a Saturday night, prior to a party I was going to. She ended up picking up, but she sounded tired/sick/uninterested. The call lasted maybe 5 minutes. That’s it, I thought. I went out that night not expecting to ever hear from her again.

To my surprise, she called me the next night, and we had a cool 45-minute talk – she later told me that this convinced her to give me another chance. And we never looked back. I guess I convinced her that outside of the dopey political talk, I am actually fun guy. Another plus is that she loves sarcasm, and she has learned to enjoy the Rolling Stones. Of course, she never did get into pro wrestling … which is probably a good thing. Another good thing is that we have numerous tv’s in the house, so she can watch her reality shows and HGTV, while I can go upstairs and watch my Philadelphia sports teams flounder.

I can’t imagine my life without her. She is my best friend, and she has a knack for making me laugh when I’m in a bad mood, and we ALWAYS have fun together. Plus, she’s a piece of ass.

Sorry for the cheesy blog post. I just wanted to let my cutie know that I love her.

You Expect Me to Wear That????

I took this story from my old website, because ... well, I thought it was funny:

One of the greater Grieb "legendary stories" involves clothes styles and, more importantly, the brand names of clothes that Inga, my mother, has purchased for her family over the years. Even though I haven't lived with my parents for quite a while now, a recent and timely "incident" reinforced the fact that it wouldn't matter how far I moved away from home, I could rest assured that Inga would still be hard at work scouring the globe for excellent deals on brand-named clothes that I have never heard of.

This recent occurrence happened just a few weeks ago - right before the big storm that dumped about a foot of snow on the Philadelphia area - of course there are probably some pundits out there that think this may have been a sign, but let's ignore them and move on. I received a phone call from the said purchaser who informed me that she had found a fantastic deal on a pair of corduroys and purchased them for me. She also notified me that she had to hem four inches off of these pants so that they would fit my "stocky" body. I must've been away from home for too
long, because I was actually excited by the prospect of getting a new pair of pants, even though my mother was the one who made the final purchase. Plus, these cords would be good to wear when shoveling the large amount of snow that we were bracing for.

The night before the snow-storm, Inga dropped off the pants, and other odds and ends (she knows her son loves chocolate chip cookies, and she continues to provide them to him, as evidenced by the expanding waistline of said son). I found the bag attached to the front door, even though my mother has keys to the house. I took the bag in, found the pants, and inspected them more closely. The cords looked pretty good - a dark blue color - my favorite. As I glanced at the tag, expecting to see
"Levis," or "Lee," or "Gap," I was more than surprised to see a brand name that I wasn't familiar with. I rubbed my eyes to make sure that I wasn't seeing things, and sure enough, I wasn't. The name of the company that produced these cords was called, get ready for this, "Big Yank." Wow, how couldn't I wear a pair of "Big Yanks" in front of my friends? I certainly wouldn't be the butt of any jokes for years and years to come, would I? Of course, I decided to wear them the very next day while shoveling snow, and then when Sue, Lisa, and I scurried to a few of the local bars that had remained open during the snow storm. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that these pants were not the least bit comfortable - in fact, Sue said that the pants made me look like Mick Jagger - I'm not sure if that is a compliment or not.

But, as many of you know, Inga has bought some "interesting" clothes for me in the past. It probably goes back to the lederhosen that she made me wear when I was 3-years old. Quite coincidentally, wearing these lederhosen was one of my very first memories, and it wasn't because these lederhosen were cool - it was because they chafed me more than a pair of sand-paper pants would have. There is a great picture out there somewhere that my parents took of me in those lederhosen. You can actually see the pain in my face in this picture, as I am trying to grab a fist-full of leather out of my ass.

In the past, my mom has bought me sneakers from far away lands - I mean, I think they were from far away lands, because the style was hideous, and the names on these sneakers were unimaginable. They made those Traxx sneakers with the Velcro ties sold at K-Mart look like Air Jordans.

One pair was called "Copa 83," and the sneakers were red. I wore these when I fished because I was planning on falling in the water. As it turned out, one day at Crum Creek, I walked into the creek and the sneakers sunk in the mud.

Another pair of sneakers that she bought, from God knows where, was a pair of brown, that's right, brown sneakers called "Nado Super Primo." These were a pair of high-tops from Italy. My mom was especially surprised and excited about this purchase, because the aforementioned sneakers only set her back 4 dollars. I wasn't exactly
sure what situation would require me to wear these sneakers, as the circus had already left town.

Some of the brand-named clothes that she purchased would've been down-right comical, had Inga not mandated that I wear these to school - obviously this was before high school! One such pair of jeans was made by a company called "Smacks." Now, a girl could probably get away with wearing jeans by this company, but a 6th grade boy, such as me, was lucky not to get shoved in a locker after wearing these beauties. I don't exactly remember the logo from this company, but I think it may have included lips. Lets just say the girls weren't knocking the door down at the Grieb household to get to know me.

My mom also bought a pair of hideous brown pants for me, made by a company known as "Uncle Charlie's." I think she actually bought me two pairs of pants by this company - no doubt that she probably sniffed out a two-for-one sale at the local
Thriftway.

There are probably many other brands that I have forgotten, and
most-assuredly for good reason. But, hey, they provided a good story, didn't
they?

Los and Smoke, Episode 5

We finally got around to doing another podcast - this one has to do with "Inga" and all of the "Inga-isms."


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I Guess Times Change

A few old work buddies and I went to Tower Records in Center City this past Saturday – this was normally a post-holiday tradition for us, but since Tower is closing on December 12, we decided to get one more shopping trip in. It’s unfortunate that a record store like this is closing down, but with the popularity of MP3’s (not to mention major record companies opting to promote crap like Kevin Federline and Paris Hilton), this has become a trend.

It’s a sad day for me (I’m sure I’m not the only one), because I have always LOVED the experience of purchasing an album/cassette/cd (I have well over 1000 cds in my collection). Physically holding the album, admiring the album art, and reading the liners, not to mention actually physically putting the cd into the cd player to listen to the tracks – this I lived for (and continue to live for).

Obviously, the record companies (and stores) have to take a lot of the blame, as they have in recent years jacked up the prices of cds to ridiculous amounts. Plus, it doesn’t seem like there are enough cds that have enough good songs on them to merit their purchase. It is much easier to go to I-Tunes and download one or two songs instead of paying the $15-$20 to buy an entire cd in which you may only listen to one or two songs.

Plus, with the purchasing power that stores like Best Buy and Circuit City have, it is usually more beneficial (at least in terms of cost) to buy at these places. But, variety is usually sacrificed (Best Buy actually isn’t too bad). Limited shelf space means only the most “popular” cds are sold. I hate this, because I generally like to experiment with my music purchases. In the past few years, I’ve started acquiring music via MP3 purchases, and I guess there will eventually come a point when I exclusively do this. I’m just going to miss buying cds.

On a side note, Tower’s “going out of business sale” is not really that astounding – in fact, even with the “30-50%” sales, they still are more expensive than the big box stores. Basically, Tower took all of their “special” pricing off of their merchandise, which was probably around 30% off, and jacked the prices up to the $19 range (for their cds) . I guess I’ll have to wait until December 1, until the “real” savings can be reached … but, by that point, I may only have Federline and Hilton to choose from.

Stoppage Time

Let me be the first to wish you a happy Cliché Day – that’s right, probably one of my favorite days of the year. So, in the immortal words of Richie Cunningham, “Sit on it, Potsie!”

You Call THAT a Special?
I went to Iron Hill Brewery a few nights ago with a fellow Penn Stater for dinner, and a funny thing happened. The waiter asked if I wanted to hear the specials, to which I replied, “sure,” and the waiter says the following: “Let me see if I can pull this out … I have the grilled sausage.” Of course, I pounce all over this, and say something to the effect of “Well, that really didn’t sound so good.” Poor waiter guy was flustered for the rest of the night.

Oil Came from What?
You know, I’ve always been under the belief that oil came from dinosaurs. Ink, a coworker, thought it came from plants and foliage of some sort. Surprisingly, after some research, we found out that neither of us are correct. Apparently, it comes from some sort of small life-form (not really a plant, not really an animal) that ends up dying on the bottom of the ocean floor and forming some sort of sludge. Of course, Ink and I got into an argument over this, and Ink claimed I was lying. I responded with “If you don’t know that you are lying, then you aren’t lying.” Not really sure any of this made sense.

Take That Cigar and Shove It!!!!
This past weekend, Red Auerbach, legendary coach and GM of the Boston Celtics passed away. As a Philadelphia sports fan, I wonder if any of our owners will ever reach this legendary status. The only one that comes anywhere near this is Ed Snider, but his teams really haven’t done much since the Flyers won two Stanley Cups in the 1970’s. Auerback’s Celtics won well over a dozen championships, and probably would’ve won more if Len Bias didn’t overdose on coke back in the day. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m really jealous and I wish we had some competent owners in this city. Please help us!

Office Prank of Sorts
You know what pisses off a lot of people at work? When somebody (me) makes a bag of microwave popcorn in the office. The smell wafts to all corners of the work place and if you listen closely enough, you can hear the collective sound of stomachs growling. Of course, you have to be skilled at popping corn in the microwave – there are some rocket scientists in this building that have caused the fire alarm to go off because (a) they didn’t realize that one can overpop corn, or (b) they decided to go to the bathroom while the corn was popping, and ended up spending too much time in the restroom or forgot about the popcorn altogether. Maybe people should be licensed to pop corn.