Pleasantries Gone Wrong

 

* I’m crazy-busy with final Fantasy Camp preparations, so I thought I’d run an old, rambling, classic that continues to plague my existence.  Enjoy.

 

WHAT’S UP, GOOD – Feb. 10th

 

How hilariously awkward and awful are pleasantries gone wrong?  There’s nothing worse than this moment.  It’s absolute buffoonery to answer “what’s up” with “good”, but man, does it continue to happen.  I can’t even watch someone else do it without blushing.  You just weren’t up to the task of that complex question, eh?  But I do it all the time.

“Hey, how’s it going?” 

“Not much, you?”

It’s just awful.  There’s not even a good way to correct yourself.  “AhhhhhI’m an idiot” is about the best you can muster.  We all just wanna get through that monotonous first part of the conversation because, ultimately, those questions just aren’t sincere.  Nobody actually wants to know how you are or what’s going on.  We’re all just trying to get to the meat of the conversation. 

And I know you’ve met the person who’s completely oblivious to these social laws.  They’re everywhere, and I cannot stand these people.  When the “how are you question” comes out, we all just say good, okay?  Everyone has agreed upon this, unless the relationship is family, or the word friend is preceeded by boy, girl, or best.

“Heyyy, how’s it going?”

“I fell on the ice a month ago shovelling the driveway and it put my back out so now one of my legs is shorter than the other and it gave me nerve damage so I have to sleep in a hyperbaric chamber”.

Tough break, but nobody cares.  Society has a deal.  We spare other people our miseries, because we all have them.  Maybe that’s not the same as the awkward pleasantries mess-up, but it’s worthy of mention.  How about the befuddlement Bri brought up:

“Enjoy your flight”

“You too”

You don’t even try to correct that one.  The person at the airline counter doesn’t care, everyone knows what’s happened.  It’s not even worth a 15 word follow-up to straighten out.  “Have a good” is usually preceeded by day, not flight.  You rolled the dice, you gambled, you lost, so be it.  Go get an US Weekly and an eight dollar pint and wait for your flight to board.

But you know what’s even more awkward than this?  The bad hand shake.  The knuckles thing has thrown it all off because old white guys do it so much now.  Not that this is a problem, but there’s still a few who opt out of the pound, so you never know what you’re dealing with.  As a 26 year old, I think old white guys assume I’m young so we should do the knuckles thing.  Maybe on the golf course after a good putt or something, I dunno.  We really have to set some guidelines for this debacle.

 

 

 

 

 

I think the handshake is perfect.  What’s to tinker with?  I get the germ-free quality of the pound.  But there’s a mutual respect to the handshake that I love.  What’s even more confusing now, is the people who want to do the upright handshake pull-in thing.  This works fine if the two guys are on the same page, but if you aren’t it’s a complete disaster.  It takes a thorough evaluation of your relationship with the guy to know if it’s a pull-in shake or not.  You don’t want to assume the pull-in.  But if you go level and the other guy is upright, it’s pure chaos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can taint an otherwise perfect day by leaving it on a bad shake. You need an exit strategy.  I spent a half hour trying to make a chart for this situation, but there’s too many variables.  Excitement.  When you last saw the guy.  How well you knew them before.  It’s definitely going to continue to remain troublesome, but you can apply a couple loose rules.

 The high five after a great sporting moment is way better than the pound.  Provided, of course, that you mix in a momentary clasp.  You can’t go beyond the guys hand with the five like you missed, and you can’t mutually push up after contact (whitest move ever).  Do the five, clasp, bring it low, done.  Not feminine, not too white, it’s okay. 

 

 

The pound should be reserved for the solemn positive moments.  It says: “nice, I knew you were gonna make that putt”, not: “sssiiicckkk 40 foot putt!!!”, pound.  Not the occasion.

If you’re unsure in any greeting circumstance, shake the hand.  No greeting is a solid as the firm, couple second shake with eye contact.  You only go to the upright-pull-in phase if you and the other person share a memory together.  You know, a night at the strip club, a round of golf, that night you drank Cuervo til you started chanting “Jose” like Euro soccer fans do “Ole”.  Any of those.  Acquaintances don’t do the pull in, okay?  It’s never assumed.

Bri and I were dying laughing about this last night when our cluster$#%& of a goodnight had to be red-flagged and laughed at.  We need Obama to come down with firm greeting rules that we’ll all agree to abide by.  I mean, I need to know - in New York they mix in the kiss greeting, and I’m gonna end up kissing her Dad if I don’t figure out the damn rules.  So I’m out of here.

“Goodnight”

“I love you too”

The Trifecta

 

Howdy folks.  Sorry I’ve been away.  I’m finally reaching a stage of jaw-healing that allows me to function beyond the couch, so the bevy of blogs may temper a tad.  Tomorrow I’ve been green-lighted to chew food and skate, two of the basic rights I assumed I was afforded under the Constitution of SpoiledWhiteCanadianKids, but those have recently been denied.  This also allows me the opportunity to add something to my own constitution aside from skin, a skeleton, and tape.  Sigh… tomorrow shall be a glorious day.

Two crucial things to do on my green light day…

Eat a Quarter Pounder w/ Cheese from McDonalds.  I’ve been dying for a piece of red meat ever since I sat down for dinner on Christmas Eve and laid eyes on that perfectly done beef tenderloin with gravy and peppercorns and onion and oh-God-don’t-think-about-it.  From there, an amalgamation of good advertising and location to my front door have down-graded my red meat fetish to a simple QPC.   The textures.  The ketchup.  The disgusting feeling after.  I’m going to destroy one of those things.

Not hurt myself trying to be a hero.  One thing I truly love about being a hockey player is being the first player on the ice before a practice.  It’s corny, but there really isn’t anything like a fresh sheet of smooth zamboni’d ice, knowing that your coach isn’t coming on for 20 minutes, and a bucket of pucks.  The big rinks we play in are warm, and the air off the ice feels crisp on your face.  When  I was in my home rink (ie. slept well for once), there was no part of my job I enjoyed more.  A couple strides, handle the puck, snap it high.  Counter-clockwise skate.  This is the mandatory lazy warm-up before coach steps on the ice at the exact second he said he would, and you have to start trying (with exceptions.  Top 2 line guys don’t have to try in warm-up drills until they’ve earned the status of 3rd line guy, by not producing in 2 straight games).  And so, with all that said, tomorrow I get to skate.  Not with the team though, as my face is still extremely fragile, and the risk of getting hit with a stray stick or deflected puck is constant.  So tomorrow morning, I’ll set out on my own to do my favourite thing about being a professional.  I can just see me flying towards the net from the right side, snapping a puck as hard as I can at the net, hitting the crossbar and eating it as I skate towards it.  Or falling. I haven’t been scared to fall since it was a possibility.  This could be interesting.

I haven’ skated in 45 days and I haven’t eaten solid food in the same.  The way I see it, I have at least double puke-tential tomorrow.  I could skate, puke, then eat a QPC and do it again.  I only hope I don’t end up at some bar with the guys after.  Who knows?  Maybe I can go for three.

The Blog Days of Winter

 

On the heels of my stand-up comedy assessment, I watched Patton Oswalt’s “No Reason to Complain” (funny stuff).  Great excerpts:

On stand-up comedy if the comdian actually had a decent life: “Did you ever go out with someone and notice after three months of dating that they’re actually a muffin-basket made of rainbow-kisses?”

“Everytime you eat a steak, a hippie’s hacky-sack goes in the gutter”

On people getting praised for sober-living or having babies: “What about people like me, I get no praise cause I learned how to stop after 2 scotch’s and choose not to pollute the earth with more humans?”

Lastly, I left off reviewing one other comic that deserves mention.  He deserves it because he’s such a hack I want to save you the time.  Carlos Mencia’s entirely Mexican based comedy is obvious and delivered like the kid in class who knows the answer, yet doesn’t know the entire class wants to slap him.  If I were asked to judge his stand-up routine, on my scale it would get rewarded Dick Cheney’s conscience, because it’s an awful, awful thing that doesn’t do its job well.

Yesterday The Daily Show played a couple clips, as did CNN, of Dick Cheney getting wheeled out to the inaguration ceremony.  Stewart made jokes that Cheney should have be stroking a cat in his lap or something, he looked so evil. But was anyone else struck with the image of Mr. Potter from it’s a wonderful life? It’s uncanny.

           (If the middle picture wasn’t in colour, would you have any idea who it actually is?)

I’ve decided to let people who make their dogs wear sweaters live, conditionally.  That condition being that they do it to make their dog look cute, fancy, posh, whatever.  The ones who say they do it so their dog will stay warm still have to die, sorry.  I really don’t think this needs much of an explanation (read: fur), so we’ll leave it at death for dumb dog dressers.  Unless it’s in a catepillar costume, in which case thats just cute (yay for Kendra living!).

What’s with the new breed of male that eats a meal out of a tupperware containers at the gym the second their workout ends?  Have you seen these monsters?  I know how the whole muscle recovery thing works, in my line of work there’s enough people spouting nutrtrition that I’m thinking we should cannabalize them.  But unless you’re a body builder who’s training to have the best body in a judged competition, is a 1:4 protein to carb ratio meal necessary for your job in “sales”?”  I want to slash their mustang tires using the barbed wire around their biceps.  Even though 1 out of every 100 girls loves this type of guy (“boo hoo I just can’t seem to meet a nice guy… I’m gonna buy a cosmo and find out what I’m doing wrong”), the other 99 dread them at the bar (“what’s up” – chin up head nod).  But that’s just my opinion.

I hope everyone is enjoying their new USA, I thought it was cool how Obama turned that huge resovoir to cabernet sauvignon yesterday (Thanks for peeing in the pool, Geithner).  What’s going on in Canada these days?

"Blog Blog" "Who's There?"

Off the top:

1)  I can’t believe I wrote a blog combining football and religion and didn’t call it “Hail Mary”.                                                                        

 2)  With this blog entry I officially surpass my record for “Combined Words Written Towards One Thing”, a title previously held by “University”.    

3)  The wires are off!  The bands are on.  I scrubbed the individual angora mittens off each tooth, so If I can just learn to talk with a British accent, that should  justify my bottom row…

4)  Cliff from Cheers’ real last name is Ratzenberger.  The Pope’s is Ratzinger.  That’s all I’m saying.

 (DO NOT rule this theory out)

5)  This morning after almost 6 weeks of a wired mouth I put on a hoodie inside-out and backwards. A hoodie backwards, really?  It turns out rock bottom looks like complete darkness and smells like cheap hair product.              

It’s hard to make people feel how you want them to feel.  When someone prefaces a story with “listen to how hilarious this is”, it isn’t.  That’s why stand up comedy has to be so difficult. If the President ad-libs a little pit-a-pat baziiing everyone melts like the wicked witch.  But when you stand in front of a group of people who know it’s coming, you’ve made that bold “I’m hilarious” statement tenfold.  I love stand-up comedy, and think I’m becoming somewhat of a connoisseur of it.  I started going every week in Kelowna during the summer and watching it on tv.  Now I rent as many as possible and buy the keepers.  It’s a difficult art and deserves to be recognized, so here I go.  I’ll save you the sifting through the busts (endless) and give you the comedians that are gold (that I’ve seen. I’m sure there’s many more).  Watching junkers can be fun in person, not so much at home.

Gold:

The single best stand-up comedy routine I’ve seen to date is Jerry Seinfeld’s I’m Telling You For The Last Time.  And it’s clean, a remarkable feat in comedy.  I know some people don’t find Jerry funny, and to be honest, I thought most of his stand up wasn’t any good.  But the idea behind this routine is that he’s retiring all his material and starting from scratch, so this will be the last time he ever tells his best jokes.  So in this hour, on broadway, he does his best bits, the ones he knew were gold, and man, were they ever.  Very PG observational stuff. 

Seven minutes long, worth it if you have some time 

Classics

If you haven’t seen Eddie Murphy’s Delirious or Raw, you’re missing out.  NOT PG, but start to finish funny.  I can’t speak to classics like Rickles, Dangerfield or Pryor just for lack of viewings.  But some of the older stand-ups that were money any time you can catch ‘em are guys like Dennis Leary, George Carlin and Bill Cosby.

Todays Mainstream

Dane Cook is aimed at someone younger than me, and those people LOVE him.  It’s a real turn off.  This guy loves himself like John Mayer.  He never actually says it, but he’s clearly very impressed with himself.  Dave Chapelle does a great job everytime he touches a mic.  He’s one of those guys that doesn’t need great material to be funny, he could read an instruction manual and bust you up.  If you like political humour Bill Maher is aimed at that niche of liberal leaning funny fans.  He’s kind of take-it or leave-it, and for me, it’s great (Dennis Miller is the poor mans version, Lewis Black is better than him).  The complete other side of these guys is those Blue Collar yahoo’s (Foxworthy, Cable Guy, White, Engvall… the last guy is awful).  A lot of fun if you’re into the no-thinking low brow kind of comedy, which is fun at times.  I bet its a blast in person, you could get wrecked and never miss a punchline.  And lastly for mainstream is your black comedy (hey black guys, you can tell a different genre of jokes, watch Murphy and Chapelle).  Katt Williams, Chris Rock and Everyotherblackguy kinda do the same shtick, but those first two do it best.  It’s a laugh a minute, and jokes are every 7 seconds. I still enjoy it.

Hidden Gems

Last Comic Standing is doing a good job of turning people out.  Stars from the show like Ralphie May and Dat Phan are a must see for new stuff.  You really have to like watching stand up to enjoy it I think, but they do it very well.  Just as good or better are newcomers Iliza Shlesinger and Gary Gulman.  You have to stomach a commercial first cause I couldn’t figure out how to embed this one, but you can check out gary doin’ his thing here: http://www.comedycentral.com/videos/index.jhtml?videoId=78446&title=gary-gulman-fig-newtons

So that folks, is my comedy State of the Union address.  If I forgot anyone, or you have someone to recommend to me, drop me a line, I’d love to hear!  Here’s Eastwood trying his hand in Gran Torino:

Rum and Egg-blog

 

Alright, I’ve got my movie scale.  Each movie will be treated like a person I know, and it will get a gift from me on Christmas morning.  That gift is the movies rating.  For example, National Geographic: Stonehenge Decoded would get a RE-USED TEA BAG (technically it’s good for something, but come on, that sucks), for it’s exceptional use of a narrator with a lisp and its time wasting re-enactments of 4500 year old barbarians forming relationships and shooting wild boar.  It dragged on a tad. 

In the past 5 weeks + I’ve watched more movies, documentaries and stand-up comedy routines than I had in the previous 26 years of my life combined (thats to the day, I might add.  Thanks for that little gift).  I won’t break them all down now, but I’ll do it in parts.  I’m gonna lead with documentaries because they got the most attention.

Who Killed The Electric Car?

Good morning, Merry Christmas!  I’m fine thanks Whokilledtheelectriccar, and you? Open this.  Cool right?  I gave this film that badass $150.00 spy pen from SkyMall. It looks like you’re writing, but you’re recording colour video with sound.  How clandestine.  Not like I’ve checked any sources or anything, but if what this film documents is true, the American people (and more, I’m sure) were robbed of a wonderful product that could have single-handedly made L.A’s air quality feel like Whistler (well, in comparison).  It was well done and enjoyable, despite the curious obsession of the EV club (electric vehicle).  It contributed to my hate of oil companies.  Oil companies are awful, awful, stomach sickeningly evil places at the top (the people raping making the money) with one thing in mind (these new “green” campaigns are the worst. For what it costs them to run an off-shore drill for a day, they spend a quarter of that figure a year on their new eco programs).  I caution myself against being too polar on any one issue, but to take any stance other than this one is indefensible.  Ahem, anyway.  It was good.  Here’s your super-sweet pen.

Who the #$%@ is Jackson Pollock?

He’s a famous artist, you crazy hillbilly.  To this documentary, I give a Female Sideline Reporter.  I give this gift because I didn’t believe a word the lady was saying, and I thought anything she did say that made sense came from someone else.  She has had zero experience in Art, and that made it tough to take her seriously.    In this documentary, an older female truck driver buys her friend a painting from a junk store for $5.00.  When she’s selling it at a yard sale, someone points out it might be a Pollock.  It has no signature, and the films journey is this lady arguing with the art community that it is.  She hires a CSI type guy to help her figure it out.  Her, CSI guy and an ex-con out of prison (on parole for art fraud) try to convince the art community that its legitimate.  If it is, its worth between 35 and 50 million.  CSI guy does a wonderful job of semi-proving that it is a Pollock but nobody buys it.  Dead-broke-living-in-a-trailer-and-raiding-dumpsters lady gets offers of 2, and later 9 million from a Saudi to buy it, but refuses on principle.  The principle being that she’s retarded.  I say save yourself the time.  And I hope she enjoys her gift.

Where is Jimmy Hoffa?

Spoiler Alert: “We’re pretty sure he was trash compacted”.  Ha, I loved that.  This film served its purpose for me: I had no idea who Jimmy Hoffa was or what he did (I suspected Mob ties), and I wanted to find out (there were Mob ties).  He wasn’t actually in the Mob though, who knew?   –Everyone over 40 just shrugged and went “I thought everybody”. –   It’s a good documentary, though not high in entertainment value.  The bulk of the entertainment value lies in the interviews with 75 year old Italian men who don’t seem to ”know nuttin’ bout nuttin’”.  “You were with him the morning Mr. Hoffa disappeared Mr. Notsayingshit, did he make mention of where he might have been going?”.  “Who, Jimmy?  No, we didn’t talk that day.  Or any others.  Ever.  He hired me because he felt more attractive besides an ugly guy.  Lookit this scar.  I’m hideous”.  And that concludes the film.  To this film, I give this gold Rolex that just fell offa that truck.  It works and you’re glad it came around.

Presidential Ibloguration

 

Cindy McCain is hot.  I don’t think anybody would disagree with me here.  I used to see John McCain in years past on the Daily Show or wherever else he was allowed to be himself and he was an awesome guy.  I distinctively remember thinking “man, that’s one Republican I could get behind” (please keep in mind this was years ago, before they attached the marionette strings – sidebar – did anyone else think that McCain moved liked those wooden characters in the Canadian Robaxacet commercials?  I guess Hotel Hanoi will do that to you).  He was smart and funny, and actually, pretty liberal.  One great thing about Canadian politics (it sounds like there aren’t many these days) is that the choice stretches beyond A or B.  You would think in a country with 304 million-ish people, the US would like to extend their selection beyond 2.  The country is divided, sure, but not into two groups.  McCain was forced to act like he held every Republican belief even though he winced when he lied because that was the group that happened to pick him.  But wow, was that a digression.  Cindy McCain is hot.  Does anybody feel bad for John out there?  He doesn’t have to deal with the stress of this country’s recession, he just got even more stupid famous, he’s dumb rich, his wife is crazy hot, and he owns so many houses he can’t tell you the exact figure (7)… the man is gonna be fine. 

How exciting is it that Barack Obama is taking over?  It just seems it should be a given that the President be smart, but it’s been 8 years.  He’s very smart.  With great social skills, and energy.  He seems to have wonderful core values (thanks for the buzz word, CNN) and his wife is unbelievable.  If you ask me, she’s more likely to be the first female president than Bitterly Clinton.   

It’s just an amazing time in the US and they really needed something positive like this here.  It’s like when you’re sick and you start your course of antibiotics.  They won’t kick in right away, but you really hope to see some positive changes before too long.  And when you do, feeling that little bit better is going to feel a whole lot better.  It’s a proud day to be an American, because enough people got over bigotry and bitterness to elect the right person, despite his skin colour.  He won the election handily, and was black.  It would have been a run away if he wasn’t (Slavery isn’t coming back Georgia, catch up).  The smooth transition of power is not a given in every country in the world, and it’s a pretty special day for democracy, not to be corny.  Things are going to be tough the next little while in the US, with ripples up to Canada, but it feels good to know that the man in charge is really going to be trying.  Trying, like that was too much to ask from Bush.

Bush.  It almost seemed like Bush was that kid you tried and tried to teach to do something, and when the kid couldn’t, he got frustrated and gave up entirely.  He was CLEARLY underqualified (the guy didn’t even get good GRADES.  He didn’t excel at anything, actually.  How did this happen?  How did he get any votes?), but once he was elected, he got the only job you can’t be fired from.  The only boss-less (the public is his boss, blahblah yeah, nice hire.) job in the US, and this guy knew it.  He  just played around his whole life, the ultimate life of privilege, and it was nauseating to watch.  “I’m a ranch-hand, ya’ll” YOU’RE FROM CONNECTICUT!  Breathe… breathe…. okay…. okay.  It’s over Justin… It’s over. 

 (I picked a nice image of him, because we’ve all seen the other ones, and it seemed redundant)

Today, I’m going to the oral surgeon to get the wires on my teeth replaced with rubber bands, enabling me to open my mouth for the first time in 40 days.  After I make a quick stop to buy a rake to remove the fur from the inside of my teeth, I’m going to make my first stop at the gym to sweat out some toxins (not that my organs care, 6 weeks of antibiotics, painkillers, and nausea medicine have hardly blackened them, I’m sure).  Then I’m going to come home and watch CNN in sweat pants and get swallow food with some texture (still no chewing).  Either way, Its a happ-happ-happy day people.  Rejoice!

Blog-ojevich, and People Who Matter

 

Fitzy of Boston

This guy is basically the reason I’m moving to Boston.  Sure, he’s the stereotypical Mass-hole (I love that expression), but what’s not to love?  The people in Boston love their sports.  Adore.  Obsess? …Yeah, they obsess over their sports.  There’s something appealing about living in a place where playing the gentlemen is borderline offensive (“who’s this queen?”).  It’s one of the last places you’re allowed to indulge every man-urge you want.  It’s probably not the formula for a perfectly functioning society, but for a Canadian kid, the entertainment value is high.  Just check out Fitzy’s webcast before last years Superbowl:                                                                                                                            *Disclaimer: May contain language not suitable for children, or people who gave birth to me.   You can imagine how the follow-up webcasts went.  I know it’s pretty low-brow, but come on… you laughed.

Rod Blagojevich

My favourite joke du jour is Jon Stewarts “Rod Blagojevich, seen here being digested head-first by some sort of hair shaped alien…”  Blagojevich looks like the mama bird might come back any second to feed the starving chicks on his head.  It looks like if he were to come in out of the cold, he would take off that thing on his head and have bad hair underneath.  The only thing funnier than this mans hair is the legitimacy of his level of corruption.  He’s like Bond-movie-evil-villain bad, complete with legitimate triple long laugh and slow mustache twirl.  I keep waiting for the breaking news about him escaping to a secret lair and exposing the star-cannon he’s had aimed at Earth this whole time.  And he’ll use it if we don’t comply with his requests (I can see Blagojevich decreeing “Henry Burris is to be an Illinois state Senator!” and Obama going “Is this guy still on that?”).  I assume the blueprint for the plot has been written on his forehead this whole time.

Boo Weekley

Never has anyone made me laugh and like them so much while simultaneously embarrassing me so much as Boo Weekly during last years Ryder Cup.  He’s like a parody of what people pretend hicks are.  It’s like SNL or Mad TV tried to make a funny hick skit, but it flopped because the person over-acted the role (over-acting in SNL?… noooo).  This is the guy who said “it’s been a windwhirl” while wiping his brow.  How can you not like a guy with a bottom lip dip of Redman in while putting for national pride.  Talk about an apt representation.  If I were Lee Westwood (who was politely bothered by Boo’s attempts to fire up the crowd), I think I would have had to laugh.  Boo didn’t even look athletic enough to make that awkward motion athletes make to pump up the crowd (And how about that motion? It’s getting pretty overused isn’t it? I just saw Tim Tebow do it after he was announcing he was coming back for another year.  The fans are grateful and love you Tim, they’re showing their appreciation.  Asking for “more effort” out of their thank-you sort seems needy).  Maaayyybe he further pigeon-holed us into the pigeon-cave Bush dug with the Europeans.  But come on.  The guy rode his driver off the tee-box at an international event.  Now that’s what being an American is about!

Bourne With Two Passports; No Jason Jokes

 

I’m not sure how to spell. 

 Have you seen The Departed?  There’s a scene where Mark Wahlberg (Sgt. Dignam) is verbally tearing Di Caprio (William Costigan jr.) apart.  Di Caprio had a criminal family with parents from different parts of Boston.  Wahlberg is trying to make sure Di Caprio isn’t trying to become a cop so he can use the power the wrong way.  He says  ”You had different accents didn’t you, you little f@#k? ”.  He talks about how Di Caprio was one kid one week with his mother, and a different kid when he went to live in the Southie projects with his Dad.   His whole life he’s always been pretending to be somebody depending on where he is.  This is how I feel when I write.

How the F am I supposed to spell as a duel citizen??

Can our 2 nations come together here, guys?  Here’s what I propose.  A set up, like in Disney movies.  I’ll call Canada and have him meet me for dinner somewhere mutual, like a Pizza Hut.  You call the US and do the same.  Then WE won’t show up and the two of them will have to run into each other.  They’ll be forced to sit there and work out  the “u” thing.  On my hono(u)r, it’s my favo(u)rite idea. It’s colo(u)rful, flavo(u)rful and full of vigo(u)r.

I usually try to keep in mind who my audience is, but in my blog I’m confused.  Please vote.  I’ll do my best to limit myself to that style, the way Marky Mark and the funky bunch disappeared so Mark Wahlberg could limit himself to acting.[polldaddy poll=1287771]

Cool's Right Commercials

 

How about those Coors Light Commercials?  Barry Switzer is so cute in this commercial I just wanna pack his lunch and send him off to his first day of school.  I can’t believe how good they are.  And not just because the coaches are saying funny stuff, the guys in the commercial are so money.  When they ask for the second roll-away and the black guy goes “yyyyeah”, I die everytime.  Like he’s jussst not quite comfortable bunking with the white guy.  They aren’t gay!  Two beds….  Hilarious.

I decided I like them because they’re almost childish.  Something about it reminds me of the “I’m not hitting you” game that siblings play.  Plus, does any sports fan out there not LOVE when NFL Films Presents -or whoever it is that does it-  plays a half hour or so of having guys “Mic’d Up”?  I think it’s because I never played football growing up that I’m so interested in what’s going on behind the scenes.  Oh, and I never played any sports in a largely black environment.  As a white guy who likes rap music, and thinks it’s hilarious to hear black guys verballing each other, these shows are the absolute highlight of my sports watching week.  I just caught a preview for todays Ravens-Steelers game, and they flashed back to a defensive player saying to 35 year old receiever Derrick Mason (apparently old in the NFL)  ”You gotta be the only guy collecting social security AND an NFL paycheck”.  I love that shit.   How about Brian Billick demanding Ed get him his beer? …. I just can’t handle it.  ”…Coach says you better go Ed.”

Oh Nooo!  Noooo!  Haha… What was actually happening that a 40 year old man was yelling “oh no”.  Don’t toddlers say that when they spill their grape juice?  Shouldn’t Billick be yelling a procession of words that involve an ampersand, some ”at” signs and the number symbol? Great stuff.[polldaddy poll=1286442]

Other sport-related commercial shout outs: Anything Peyton Manning does, the Kevin Garnett press conference clips (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=llmi2o7sWh8), LeBron’s “chalk” commercial (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SiQKxja79M) and Greg Oden’s “I’m a chameleon” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXbpB-rlung)  Also, anything with Scott Van Pelt (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ge1LtDlK75Q) and/or Kenny Mayne.  Retro shout-out to the “Terrible Terry Tate Office Linebacker” Reebok commercials.  They’re old, but amazing (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oU1jra7RKCQ) I was obsessed with the Terry Tate ones years ago.  They’re a tad long, but still classic. I  have a lot of time on my hands.  More blogs to come.

Bloggy bag – Today's leftovers.

The back page of Sports Illustrated was something that for many years sports fans knew and loved.  Most males who had 6 minutes to spend in a waiting room grabbed the most recent SI, and read ‘”The Life of Reilly”, Rick Reilly’s sometimes funny, always smart piece on not sports, but people in sports.  Well what in the name of Christmas is going over there at SI? This has seemingly been the worlds longest tryout of inadequate candidates for any job (unless you count the previous two presidential elections).  I suppose it takes time to build the credentials and gain the experience and yadda yadda whatthehell? You’re kind of a well known sports magazine over there guys. I understand Rick wrote some tear-jerkers, but this semi-sappy carousel of pseudo-serious articles is more disappointing than getting your bag of McNuggets home to find no sweet and sour sauce.  I’m over it.  ESPN, you have my attention.

Random: In the pit of a particularly glaring college hangover, myself and two roommates made our way to a McDonald’s to grease the engines with some sustenance. I remember taking a bite and uttering “this sweet and sour sauce is spicy…”   NO.  No.  No it wasn’t.  It may have been sweet, it could have possibly even been sour.  The name of the sauce is two describing words, and I nailed neither of them.  Wow Bourne.  Lock it up.

I think I need to talk about the documentary I just watched.  I know I hinted at a movie ratings system, but hold on to your hats, it’s still in the developmental stage (read: received 0 seconds thought).  I have some time to kill, what with the wired mouth, pain meds and no car here in Boise, so I rented 7 documentaries on Thursday. I went through them faster than Winehouse does blow.   30 hours, 7 shows.  Yeah.   That.  Just.  Happened. 

Random: If you time the pain meds just right, every nature show is amaaazing, I assume because I’m duller than a two-use razor at Robin Williams house. Planet Earth, for example, gets 11 of whatever it is i’m going to award for awesomeness points (which won’t be awesomeness points. Those aren’t awesome.)

STONEHENGE: DECODED

Thenarratorhadalisp.  Sorry, I couldn’t get that out there fast enough.  The narrator had a lisp.  Still does, I assume.  Talk about things that warrant a “That. Just. Happened”.  You know why?  Because it did. I was there.  I sat there, and used my ears, to hear the sounds coming from the speakers, which in turn relayed messages and information.  From that information, I discovered, that some of the stones in Stonehenge can  ”weigh up to 45 tonth”.  Ohhhh, boy.  Let’s be clear here, I’m not making fun of speech impediments; hell my teeth are wired shut.  On the other hand, I’m not exactly handing out resumes for jobs that involve MAKING SOUNDS INTO WORDS.  And what a difference in enjoyment the narrator can make, am I right? Has anyone seen Planet Earth (everyone just replied yes, in the imaginary room I’m apparently doing stand-up comedy in)?  David Attenborough is like… the personification of what I imagine a full body massage from a cloud feels like.[polldaddy poll=1284960]

Highlight of my tenure on the couch: 

Let me set this up:   Sweatpants, old t-shirt, slippers.  DQ peanut buster parfait, sans peanuts.  Girlfriend.  Flat screen HD TV, Planet Earth’s “shallow seas”, lights off no talking allowed.  David Attenborough’s words gingerly dancing about the Caribbean. Also, no talking allowed.  I mean…. right?  Isn’t this the stuff guys discover when they’re like… you know what… I never really liked the bar that much.  I mean… I guess I could just catch the guys next week… maybe this how men become the p word they call each other 90% of the time in any all male situation.

Guys just get older though, and they like it.  It starts with “man, it sure is cheaper to drink at home” and ends in “Grandpa’s just set in his ways, leave him be”.  I’m halfway to a Sunday scotch, the crossword puzzle and racial slurs (oh, Grandpa’s from a different time).  Speaking of that character, Gran Torino was amazing.  On a scale of red, it gets a tiger-shark (the scale is  a work in progress).  I didn’t realize you could degrade someone of Hmong descent in so many ways, but Eastwood goes above and beyond.  In that sense, and in his role as Walt Kowalski .  Clint is like the two guys in the balcony on the muppets, minus the laughing and the having a friend.  But you warm up to him, you just have to.  I won’t play spoiler, but his family doesn’t get him, his neighbors don’t either and he doesn’t care.  And you have to admire anyone who speaks how they feel, with the exception of people who speak for a living and feel like total bigots (see: Don Imus, Michael Richards).

I’ll work on that system.

Jaws Wired Shut

I’ve been walking around my apartment commenting on things in an English accent.  And with that, I become a blogger…

You see, I’m bored a lot lately. Having ones teeth wired shut pretty much limits your options. If I carry groceries up to my third floor apartment I start breathing like Darth Vader, so needless to say, pull-ups and dips are out.  The perk has been the downtime.  I have time to think for the first time since I realized I was capable of thinking (flashback: my junior hockey coach hurling a bag of navel oranges at an 18 year old kid – navel being a key describing word. Navel, not mandarin – and thinking….”yeah… somethings amiss here”).  Time to think about important things like a title for my blog.  I was torn between “If you are what you eat, I’m smooooth”  and “Hermit the Blog” and to be honest, both made me laugh out loud.  At me.  Yeah… since I’ve been spending an excess amount of time with me, I’ve gained the ability to make me laugh like the joke caught me off guard.  That’s gonna be a real endearing quality in my old age.  So yeah, blog number one: Things I’m excited about. Go.

Here’s where Brianna (my girlfriend, for those of you who don’t know, which I’m sure that you do, because I’m pretty sure people’s first blogs aren’t read by an adoring fan base) ahem, where Brianna expects me to say moving to Boston with her and blahblah blah real things (which of course, I am excited about).  But this is an immediate, short term list of things that are great for me now and in the near future: 

THE KANYE WEST RAP SONG FROM LIKE, EIGHT YEARS AGO “THROUGH THE WIRE”

              Kanye raps with his jaw wired shut after crashing his Lexus and almost killing himself.  The line “I drink a – Boost for breakfast, an Ensure for dizzerrt, somebody orders pancakes, I just sip – the syzzurrrp” manages to keep me feeling in touch with society while I’m busy blending 2,000 calorie smoothies so I don’t end up looking like Nicole Richie tried to go pro as a hockey player.  People are going to be confused when I’m back in the lineup because it’s gonna look like I’m wearing a football jersey. I wear seventeen and I’m almost certain if the 1 is visible on the back you’ll see the 7 on the front or vice versa.  People might actually think I’m dead because all the namebar will read is “‘URN”.

NFL PLAYOFF BETTING

Even though the NFL playoffs kind of looks like how you would have picked the losers bracket to see who the worst team to make the playoffs is (I’m looking at you, Philly) I’m enjoying it.  Largely for this reason:  I’m dominating Bill Simmons. Simmons, the ESPN page 2 writer who has written about (in hilarious fashion) and picked games for so long he’s concocted a “playoff manifesto” on picking the winner is 2 – 6 in playoffs. I, of Canadian heritage and zero experience, am the flip side of his coin at 6 – 2. In no way am I claiming to be better than Simmons at picking games, I’m just saying that if him and I had to pick the winner in NFL playoff games, I would do better…  Allrrriiigght fine, I’m kidding, it’s the only victory I’ve had this month, let me have it.

POTPOURRI

Campbells Soup At Hand. Pourable through gritted teeth, handheld and quick, flavourful and delicious.

Chinese Stress Balls. A $2.80 ebay purchase that has kept me sane. I’ll keep the blog above ball-fondling jokes. Curses, too late.

Sudoku. Nothing like adding to the frustration like realizing there’s two 8′s in that column 35 minutes in.  Super glad I’ve allowed myself to enjoy that little gift from above. 

Shout out to Arizona Green Tea and Documentaries.  Okay! 3 days till the wires come off.  In the next edition, I’ll break down a chunk of the movies/documentaries/stand-up comedy shows I’ve watched and create some sort of thumbs up/thumbs down system that hopefully allows for a more specific rating than a minimum/maximum of 2. The fact that you can only give “Borat” the same amount of thumbs down as “You, Me and Dupree” doesn’t do either movie justice.