On the whole, sure, the Internet has given us many great things. But like most good things, there is a dark side as well. With the rise of the internet has also come with things such as identity theft, cyber stalking, Carpal Tunnel, eye strain and wasting huge amounts of company time. I have recently found a new downfall.
It allows me to become a doctor.
Over the years, I have generally been lucky when it comes to getting hurt. Which isn’t to say that I haven’t gotten hurt, I surely have. It’s like my mom says; generally I am too dumb to get hurt. The times I have been hurt have suspiciously almost always been on my left side. Broke my ankle and wrist. I was taking a boxing class and pretty sure I cracked a rib. Gallantly, I returned the next week, where my biggest struggle was to not squeal like a girl every time I got hit on my left side. I tore the ACL in my left knee. I think over 38 years, that list doesn’t seem so bad. Except for that ACL business.
Aches and pains-what I like to call dings-are inevitable as you get older, especially if you are active. For example, I play street hockey on Mondays, and it’s not unusual to be sore for most of Tuesday. It’s nothing a handful of Advil and a swig of Jack can’t handle. OK, that’s a lie, I don’t take Advil. I try to hit the gym 4-5 times a week, and again it’s not odd to pick up the occasional ding. Apparently, you can add extra weight on the bars, who knew?
Another example, one morning I woke up with a sore neck. I wish it could have attributed it to something more manly like saving an orphan from a fire my using my neck muscles or something like that. It was really because I fell asleep on the floor with Bauer the night before. See, I told you I lead an active life.
Lately, I have had a ding in my right arm. It feels like it is at the bottom of my triceps. I believe the proper medical term in an “owie” on my arm. I’ve had it for a few weeks. While there has been no real pain, I can’t lift as much weight in the gym. When you can’t even lift the normal amount in the gym, it’s always a source of frustration. If I get much weaker, I’ll be forced to use the 5 pound pink dumbbells. Today I was on this wondrous thing called the Internet. In between sessions of Facebook and LinkedIn, I decided to put the ol’ stethoscope on and see just what the dealio is. Switch the shingle on the front of my house to say ‘doctor is in.’
You would think such things would be easy to research on WebMD. Alas, apparently not. Maybe I shouldn’t use the term “ouchie” in my search. I finally find the info I am searching for. Speaking as Dr. Kevie, I can now resoundly say it doesn’t appear I tore anything. The pain I’ve been feeling doesn’t correlate with a torn muscle. Thusly, I can now declare myself to be “healed” and go to the gym tomorrow confident that I can hoist massive weights over my chest with no fear of pain or failure. That’s the power of the Net my friends.
I can hear the worrywarts out there saying, “Well, don’t you still have pain?” To which I reply, “Step back, dipshit, didn’t you just read the Net says I’m fine?” OK, maybe that should be a cause for slight concern. Further searching didn’t yield any results. I don’t need the Net to tell me my job here is done.
Since I’ve officially become a writer this year –OK, so it’s for free, but it’s online, so again, the Net tells me I am a writer-I’ve become accustomed to doing reams of research. Because surely all the information on the Net must be true. So I look for a second opinion.
I Google terms that fit my malady. For as focused WebMD can be, Google is just various crap. After clicking the first 5 links (they must be the closest match because they are the top 5, right?) I again find nothing that matches what I’m feeling. Just to be sure, I Google pictures of “hot chicks”. Because I am right handed.
I am left with only one conclusion; I am being a big pansy. I believe the term is psychosomatic. Yes, I learned that term from previous WebMD searches. I am secure in the knowledge that I can go big in the gym tomorrow (or maybe Saturday…or Sunday) with no fear of making my situation any worse. The Net is awesome.
Tomorrow I will search rampant ignorance, gross indifference, disillusionment, severe internal injuries and alcoholism.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
The Halloween That Hallowasn't
There is no guarantee in life, they say. You can plan, hope, dream and scheme, but sometimes, it is just not in the cards for you. I suppose my unemployed ass could somehow come up with the next brilliant idea to prevent such a fiasco, but I just can’t figure a way. Somehow arrange some sort of rebate, a do-over or mulligan of some sort. But I just don’t know how I could do it.
It rained on Halloween.
I mean, it’s bound to happen sometimes. And for the life of me, I cannot remember the last time Halloween got rained out. Shouldn’t the township have some sort of back-up plan? Every year when they send out their calendars, there should be some sort of notice if Hween gets rained out. I really don’t need a township calendar to tell me when the next school budget meeting is, or that the storm water committee meets every third Wednesday. There should be a clear and concise backup plan in case Hween gets rained out.
Which reminds me of a story from my childhood, about a neighbor kid named Dave. I swear this is a true story. It was the day after Hween, early evening while the sun was still out. There was a knock from our front door. We opened it up to see a costumed little cowboy. “Trick or treat,” Dave said. “But Hween was yesterday,” my mom said. “I know,” Dave piped up, “but today is the day after Hween!” Of course, we still had the candy bowl nearby. I watched as my mom was in some sort of trance, and gave him some candy. Then he left, off to another house. Damn, what ingenuity from a little kid. I am sure he made out that day. I still remember, because he had on the freakiest cowboy mask I have ever seen. It still haunts me in my dreams. And then some blue Russian unicorn reciting Tolstoy comes by to save me.
The signs were there. The weekend before was going to be my town’s Hween celebration. They do it up right. They close down the main road for a few hours, and most of the merchants give out treats. Tons of kids come out, and parents come in costume as well. We take Bau and have a grand old time. For the last two years, it has rained furiously on this day.
The week leading up to Hween was fun. I never watch AMC or TCM except for this week. Both show cool old B&W horror movies. I listened to the Halloween channel on Sirius all week. There were all kinds of spooky sounds coming out of my office; screaming, yelling, howling, chains rattling, crying, etc. And then I turned the radio on. (Rimshot, thank you very much.)
Maybe I should have known when last Hween fell on a Friday. We should have had a ton more kids for me to scare the bejesus out of. But no, the GD Phils have to have their victory parade that night. Baseball again conspired against me, as this year there was a home Phils game on at 8. Why does baseball hate Hween so? Plus, there damn near was a full moon, too. Should have known.
This year, Mischief Night fell on a Friday. The neighborhood tradition is for a small group of kids to TP the houses of people they know. It’s all in good fun, and no one gets pissed. The kids usually don’t start till 8, so I was downstairs, looking for a mask I could throw on so I could scare the kids. Last year, I put on a wolf mask, and ran out screaming from the back yard. That scared the hell out of them, and got an inordinate amount of jollies off for me. There was a knock on the door. I open the door up to see the kids had already “gotten” us. Damn it. I see the lone tree in our front yard awash in Charmin. It took 4 kids and just one roll to be Ninja quiet and get the tree. They looked so proud, “Yea, we did all this with only one roll!” They did so good, how could I not encourage their malfeasance? I got them 3 more rolls and told them to go to town. Soon, our bushes were covered, and I encouraged them to hit the house across the street. Ah yes, Hween is just a night away.
I woke up Saturday morning with visions of Sugar Daddies dancing in my head, and what to my wandering eyes should appear, but an overcast sky; the day, it was not clear. My otherwise blackened and dead heart sunk. Yes, I had known the forecast wasn’t good, but surely the weather gods would not take away my Hween, right? Man this is suckage with a capital SUCK. I didn’t set the yard up for my usual night of scares. If it’s drizzling now, with almost 100% chance of rain come darkness, I have to make a decision. This is a night I look forward to every year, much like motards look forward to Xmas morning. This is my Xmas, my 4th of July. Hell, it’e even my Arbor Day and President’s Day. If I was going to do it, I need to start setting up now.
After much inner turmoil and debate, somehow the rational side won out. I know, I know, it’s so rare for that to happen. In the end, I decided it was too much of a risk to spend hours setting up. A lot of my props are cheap and made of paper. The electrical props I have were wired in some 4th world country, so there’s no point in risking a fire. Crestfallen, I give up the ghost. Which seems apropos this time of year.
But all is not lost, as we head to another nearby town for their Hween celebration. They have a cool little dog place that we always take Bauer to. They do a first Friday type thing there, and always do a different scene for you to get your pic taken with your dog. (Yes, this is where all the profile pics come from). It was a cool scene, and kinda made up for the previous week’s rainout. I did get in a Hween mood (finally) and got the general feeling that Hween wouldn’t suck this year.
Finally, dusk came. I plugged in what Hween lights I already had up. And just about right on cue, it started drizzling. The kids, well, they came, much like the rain. I saw some really good costumes, but no really killer ideas. I did see a kid come as Jigsaw, which was cool. Always gotta wonder about parents who let their kids dress up like butchering bad guys from movies they are technically too young to have seen. Shit, you should have seen the kid that came as Dirk Diggler…
Kids could come to our house and get free candy with no worry of being scared. I reckon the feeling I had to the same one Superman had when he gave up his super powers. I don’t like to ‘blend’ in on Hween; I want to have the whole production happening. We would watch packs of kids come down the street, hit our neighbor right across from us, then totally blow us off! WTF! Just because I’m not doing the whole production this year? You spoiled little bastards. We literally watched kids go to our neighbors, look at our house and just keep walking. I am the only one I know who can feel cheap, used and tawdry on Hween, and not in just the sexual way I am already accustomed to. I even went over to my neighbor’s house to see if she was giving away quarters, or at the very least better candy than us. She wasn’t, same crap we’re giving out. So apparently now my candy is only good when I do the whole presentation, THEN my house is only good enough for you little snots to get free candy from?
Man, how can I love Hween so much and get so worked up?
I was a good boy, and held off from eating any of the candy, lest we run out. The same can’t be said for coconut rum and coke, but, hey, we all got our flaws. Around 8 o’clock-still prime trick or treating time-lights started to get turned off. Huh? O right, damn Phillies game. My neighbor asked me if we were going to watch the game. “No way,” I said “Night of the Living Dead is on all night.” “What? You’re going to watch Night of the Living Dead instead of the Phillies game?” Sheesh, it’s not my fault you don’t get how great of a movie it is, and perfect for Hween night viewing. If you’ve never seen it, you’re really missing out, pansy.
Odds are now, we won’t have another Hween rainout for many years. And hopefully, all those unappreciative little snots will forget about my Hween production; all the places I hide. O, they will pay. They will pay.
It rained on Halloween.
I mean, it’s bound to happen sometimes. And for the life of me, I cannot remember the last time Halloween got rained out. Shouldn’t the township have some sort of back-up plan? Every year when they send out their calendars, there should be some sort of notice if Hween gets rained out. I really don’t need a township calendar to tell me when the next school budget meeting is, or that the storm water committee meets every third Wednesday. There should be a clear and concise backup plan in case Hween gets rained out.
Which reminds me of a story from my childhood, about a neighbor kid named Dave. I swear this is a true story. It was the day after Hween, early evening while the sun was still out. There was a knock from our front door. We opened it up to see a costumed little cowboy. “Trick or treat,” Dave said. “But Hween was yesterday,” my mom said. “I know,” Dave piped up, “but today is the day after Hween!” Of course, we still had the candy bowl nearby. I watched as my mom was in some sort of trance, and gave him some candy. Then he left, off to another house. Damn, what ingenuity from a little kid. I am sure he made out that day. I still remember, because he had on the freakiest cowboy mask I have ever seen. It still haunts me in my dreams. And then some blue Russian unicorn reciting Tolstoy comes by to save me.
The signs were there. The weekend before was going to be my town’s Hween celebration. They do it up right. They close down the main road for a few hours, and most of the merchants give out treats. Tons of kids come out, and parents come in costume as well. We take Bau and have a grand old time. For the last two years, it has rained furiously on this day.
The week leading up to Hween was fun. I never watch AMC or TCM except for this week. Both show cool old B&W horror movies. I listened to the Halloween channel on Sirius all week. There were all kinds of spooky sounds coming out of my office; screaming, yelling, howling, chains rattling, crying, etc. And then I turned the radio on. (Rimshot, thank you very much.)
Maybe I should have known when last Hween fell on a Friday. We should have had a ton more kids for me to scare the bejesus out of. But no, the GD Phils have to have their victory parade that night. Baseball again conspired against me, as this year there was a home Phils game on at 8. Why does baseball hate Hween so? Plus, there damn near was a full moon, too. Should have known.
This year, Mischief Night fell on a Friday. The neighborhood tradition is for a small group of kids to TP the houses of people they know. It’s all in good fun, and no one gets pissed. The kids usually don’t start till 8, so I was downstairs, looking for a mask I could throw on so I could scare the kids. Last year, I put on a wolf mask, and ran out screaming from the back yard. That scared the hell out of them, and got an inordinate amount of jollies off for me. There was a knock on the door. I open the door up to see the kids had already “gotten” us. Damn it. I see the lone tree in our front yard awash in Charmin. It took 4 kids and just one roll to be Ninja quiet and get the tree. They looked so proud, “Yea, we did all this with only one roll!” They did so good, how could I not encourage their malfeasance? I got them 3 more rolls and told them to go to town. Soon, our bushes were covered, and I encouraged them to hit the house across the street. Ah yes, Hween is just a night away.
I woke up Saturday morning with visions of Sugar Daddies dancing in my head, and what to my wandering eyes should appear, but an overcast sky; the day, it was not clear. My otherwise blackened and dead heart sunk. Yes, I had known the forecast wasn’t good, but surely the weather gods would not take away my Hween, right? Man this is suckage with a capital SUCK. I didn’t set the yard up for my usual night of scares. If it’s drizzling now, with almost 100% chance of rain come darkness, I have to make a decision. This is a night I look forward to every year, much like motards look forward to Xmas morning. This is my Xmas, my 4th of July. Hell, it’e even my Arbor Day and President’s Day. If I was going to do it, I need to start setting up now.
After much inner turmoil and debate, somehow the rational side won out. I know, I know, it’s so rare for that to happen. In the end, I decided it was too much of a risk to spend hours setting up. A lot of my props are cheap and made of paper. The electrical props I have were wired in some 4th world country, so there’s no point in risking a fire. Crestfallen, I give up the ghost. Which seems apropos this time of year.
But all is not lost, as we head to another nearby town for their Hween celebration. They have a cool little dog place that we always take Bauer to. They do a first Friday type thing there, and always do a different scene for you to get your pic taken with your dog. (Yes, this is where all the profile pics come from). It was a cool scene, and kinda made up for the previous week’s rainout. I did get in a Hween mood (finally) and got the general feeling that Hween wouldn’t suck this year.
Finally, dusk came. I plugged in what Hween lights I already had up. And just about right on cue, it started drizzling. The kids, well, they came, much like the rain. I saw some really good costumes, but no really killer ideas. I did see a kid come as Jigsaw, which was cool. Always gotta wonder about parents who let their kids dress up like butchering bad guys from movies they are technically too young to have seen. Shit, you should have seen the kid that came as Dirk Diggler…
Kids could come to our house and get free candy with no worry of being scared. I reckon the feeling I had to the same one Superman had when he gave up his super powers. I don’t like to ‘blend’ in on Hween; I want to have the whole production happening. We would watch packs of kids come down the street, hit our neighbor right across from us, then totally blow us off! WTF! Just because I’m not doing the whole production this year? You spoiled little bastards. We literally watched kids go to our neighbors, look at our house and just keep walking. I am the only one I know who can feel cheap, used and tawdry on Hween, and not in just the sexual way I am already accustomed to. I even went over to my neighbor’s house to see if she was giving away quarters, or at the very least better candy than us. She wasn’t, same crap we’re giving out. So apparently now my candy is only good when I do the whole presentation, THEN my house is only good enough for you little snots to get free candy from?
Man, how can I love Hween so much and get so worked up?
I was a good boy, and held off from eating any of the candy, lest we run out. The same can’t be said for coconut rum and coke, but, hey, we all got our flaws. Around 8 o’clock-still prime trick or treating time-lights started to get turned off. Huh? O right, damn Phillies game. My neighbor asked me if we were going to watch the game. “No way,” I said “Night of the Living Dead is on all night.” “What? You’re going to watch Night of the Living Dead instead of the Phillies game?” Sheesh, it’s not my fault you don’t get how great of a movie it is, and perfect for Hween night viewing. If you’ve never seen it, you’re really missing out, pansy.
Odds are now, we won’t have another Hween rainout for many years. And hopefully, all those unappreciative little snots will forget about my Hween production; all the places I hide. O, they will pay. They will pay.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
F the Ph
OK, something has been bothering me. I’ve seen it all over the news, and from a bunch of my FaceBook friends. It ticks me off, and I need to vent.
Lately, it seems the ability to spell certain words has gone by the wayside. Now, I’m not saying it’s an indictment of the current public school system, ‘cause that’s far too easy of a target. There has been a very conscious effort on the part of the media to deliberately misspell words. And I declare it’s time to stop.
I don’t know why I’m such a stickler for spelling. Maybe it’s because I fancy myself a writer. Maybe it’s because any motard can use SpellCheck. Maybe it’s because the one word I seem to misspell the most is, ironically enough, ‘learn’. Maybe it’s because I was the 6th grade spelling champ. (Yea, take that, Timmy Craig. What gas station are you working at now? And are they hiring?) It’s making my city look bad, and it needs to stop.
It’s spelled ‘fever’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘fun’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘fucking’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘fanatic’. There is no ph. Unless you are talking about the Phillie Phanatic. OK, I’ll give you that one. He’s my favorite player. Ooh, there’s another one.
It’s spelled ‘favorite’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘fan’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘finally’. There is no ph.
I think you get my point. When I turn on the news, and see a glaring headline like “Phillies Phever”, I can’t help but feel like a motard. Enouph is enouph. Using ’ph’ makes you look like you are an 8 year old girl with a crush. Are the ‘i’s in Phillies dotted with little pink hearts? I can’t help but cringe when I see men, grown men, with wives and kids and jobs spelling ‘fan’ as ‘phan’. Honestly put, the behavior is rather ‘phay’. Besides, that poor guy who works down at the China Garden is getting all paranoid because everyone else is wearing his name on their shirts. My wall on FB is littered with such atrocities. (And, yes, I sound phay bitching about my FB wall.)
Look, I am not actively rooting against the Phils. I actually hope they win. I think it would be great for the city, great for the fans and great for morale. Plus, I absolutely love watching sports fans doing stupid things when their team wins the championship. Fighting, rowdiness, drunken mayhem, general destruction. I’m not ragging on Philly here, it happens in every town; yes, it’s even happened with my beloved Avalanche as well. I just don’t know whose fans are more obnoxious; Philly’s or New York’s. Yea, I’ll pull for the Phils here. But it won’t be enough tonight to take me away from my usual Wednesday night routine of Ghost Hunters, The Ultimate Fighter, then crawling up into a ball and crying myself to sleep. But I might tune in between commercials.
Lately, it seems the ability to spell certain words has gone by the wayside. Now, I’m not saying it’s an indictment of the current public school system, ‘cause that’s far too easy of a target. There has been a very conscious effort on the part of the media to deliberately misspell words. And I declare it’s time to stop.
I don’t know why I’m such a stickler for spelling. Maybe it’s because I fancy myself a writer. Maybe it’s because any motard can use SpellCheck. Maybe it’s because the one word I seem to misspell the most is, ironically enough, ‘learn’. Maybe it’s because I was the 6th grade spelling champ. (Yea, take that, Timmy Craig. What gas station are you working at now? And are they hiring?) It’s making my city look bad, and it needs to stop.
It’s spelled ‘fever’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘fun’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘fucking’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘fanatic’. There is no ph. Unless you are talking about the Phillie Phanatic. OK, I’ll give you that one. He’s my favorite player. Ooh, there’s another one.
It’s spelled ‘favorite’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘fan’. There is no ph.
It’s spelled ‘finally’. There is no ph.
I think you get my point. When I turn on the news, and see a glaring headline like “Phillies Phever”, I can’t help but feel like a motard. Enouph is enouph. Using ’ph’ makes you look like you are an 8 year old girl with a crush. Are the ‘i’s in Phillies dotted with little pink hearts? I can’t help but cringe when I see men, grown men, with wives and kids and jobs spelling ‘fan’ as ‘phan’. Honestly put, the behavior is rather ‘phay’. Besides, that poor guy who works down at the China Garden is getting all paranoid because everyone else is wearing his name on their shirts. My wall on FB is littered with such atrocities. (And, yes, I sound phay bitching about my FB wall.)
Look, I am not actively rooting against the Phils. I actually hope they win. I think it would be great for the city, great for the fans and great for morale. Plus, I absolutely love watching sports fans doing stupid things when their team wins the championship. Fighting, rowdiness, drunken mayhem, general destruction. I’m not ragging on Philly here, it happens in every town; yes, it’s even happened with my beloved Avalanche as well. I just don’t know whose fans are more obnoxious; Philly’s or New York’s. Yea, I’ll pull for the Phils here. But it won’t be enough tonight to take me away from my usual Wednesday night routine of Ghost Hunters, The Ultimate Fighter, then crawling up into a ball and crying myself to sleep. But I might tune in between commercials.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Halloween Costume Crisis Pt 2 Electric Bugaloo
So where did I leave off?
I was debating about going to the party or not. Then, in a scene eerily reminiscent of Adrian telling Rocky to go fight in Rocky II, T rose from her bed and told me I should go. With her blessing and possibly dementia in hand, I was now faced with the challenge of just what to be. I ran the single guy idea by her, and she was kind of meh. She recommended I go as something totally different. She told me to go get a short hair wig, and wear a suit.
Apparently she wanted me to go as a nerd. I don’t know what kind of meds she’s on, but I gotta try me some. Plus, I don’t think it would be a wise idea to get a beer stain on my only good suit. “So, Mr. Theory, we are prepared to offer you this totally posh job where you just sit on your ass all day and make well into the six figures, but is that Miller Lite I smell?” I Googled last minute costume ideas. I didn’t see anything horribly creative or offensive enough to use. I was a desperate man. I read an article that basically said look at everything you have and figure something out.
I swivel my chair around here in the former Missile Command office. By my window is a tie rack full of ties I never wear. For some reason this hit a chord with me. In the garage I know I have boxing headgear. So if I put the ties on my arms, legs, etc, and put on the Everlast headgear and handwraps, I could be……
Wait for it….
Wait for it….
A Tie Fighter! It reeks of the appropriate stench of last minutedness. It’s cheap and, I guess, creative on a level. Sure I am down with the single guy idea, but the tie fighter idea grows on me. Plus, how often do I wear ties, anyway? T votes for the tie fighter. I knew that should have been the kiss of death, but I went for it anyway.
I go about tying ties-in the proper tie knot, no less-all over my body. I used a tie as a belt. I tie ties on my arms and legs. I look like an under steroided Ultimate Warrior. I look like an over steroided member of the Rock n Roll Express. OK, this is as good as it’s gonna get. Now I am faced with another problem. Getting from my house into my car with no neighbor seeing me and thinking, “What the fuck?” I manage to do it, and drive to the par-tay.
I go to the garage, where beer pong is in full swing. I’m talking to someone, and now is time for the true test. I ask them if they know what I am. This is make or break, because this will give me a sign if people will get the joke, or think I’m just some motard who tied ties all over himself. He doesn’t get it.
It’s like I laid a big, giant, sloppy turd. GD it, I am stuck in a dud costume. Right on cue comes another guy known for dressing in obtuse costumes. Last year, he wore a Hawaiian shirt, and strung prescription bottles around his neck. He was a tropical depression. So, surely, he will get my costume, right?
Wrongo. Not even obtuse guy gets me, this doesn’t bode well. He then asks me to guess what he is. He is wearing all black, with paper cutouts of ears all over. Not out of spite at all, but I don’t know what he is. He is “all ears”. Yea, I’ll be drinking tonight. I ask his wife if she knows what I am. “Hmm…something with ties,” she says as a strike a boxing pose, point to the headgear. “Tie bo?” No, but actually not a bad guess; if that’s what most people will guess, then I will say, yes, I am in fact tie bo. Next year I plan to be callansthetics.
I wander inside, only to be met with more people who don’t know what I am. I get a few chuckles when I tell them what I am. But I think they are pity laughs for sure. At least I can quickly get rid of all the ties so I don’t look totally motarded.
I have to give credit to this bunch. There are always a lot of great ideas at this party. And since I like to offer something back to you, dear reader, I will now tell you some of the ideas I saw so you can steal them and use them for your Halloween party. First off, this douchebag was dressed as a tie fighter…
I saw 2 Jons, but oddly only 1 Kate. Octomom had hooked up with swine flu (a nurse uniform I think, with H1N1 written on it, pig ears, snout and tail) and absolutely ran beer pong for a good hour and a half. And then when they finally lost, we all used the same damn cups, so I am sure we will all now get sick. Slash and a groupie. Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. Now that the Phillies are hot, there is always at least one guy who just slaps on a Phillies shirt, and wears his pants and cleats from softball and becomes some random Phillie. To keep with that theme, another guy came as one of the TBS broadcasters. We had a Santa Claus, and he said he still won’t bring me a pony for Xmas. A couple dressed as Fonzie (him) and Richie (her) that I thought was a pretty original idea. We had a sea cap’n and a jellyfish, Popeye and Olive Oyl. Another couple came dressed as Stepbrothers. I did see and really like that movie, but don’t remember their idea for it. It always seems there is one Will Ferrell costume at this party. No, no one bit on Land of the Lost; that would imply someone actually saw that movie. We had Spock and whoever the chick is from Star Trek. I didn’t see Hangover yet, but someone came as the character that was constantly hurting the baby he was carrying, I thought that was pretty creative as infant abuse is always funny on Halloween. We had an almost full scale Teen Wolf. A couple came dressed as green eggs and ham. The best costume I thought was a couple who came as Seal and Heidi Klum. I thought that was funny and original.
Brad the host always does a bang up job decking out the house. The front yard is all done with lights, graves, webs and fog. The garage, where beer pong is, always has lights, props and decorations up. He even has a giant clown that peeks in from the deck. It’s such a shame the weather has been shitty the last two years, but that doesn’t stop the fun from flowing. You have to be a motard to not have a good time at Brad’s party. Even if you are wearing six ties.
I had a really good time, although I really wish T was able to have gone. We had a really great idea for a costume, but at least we can just use it for next year. And if we’re smart, we should go hit the stores after Halloween and pick out 2011’s costume. Hmm, what celebrities will be dead by then…
I was debating about going to the party or not. Then, in a scene eerily reminiscent of Adrian telling Rocky to go fight in Rocky II, T rose from her bed and told me I should go. With her blessing and possibly dementia in hand, I was now faced with the challenge of just what to be. I ran the single guy idea by her, and she was kind of meh. She recommended I go as something totally different. She told me to go get a short hair wig, and wear a suit.
Apparently she wanted me to go as a nerd. I don’t know what kind of meds she’s on, but I gotta try me some. Plus, I don’t think it would be a wise idea to get a beer stain on my only good suit. “So, Mr. Theory, we are prepared to offer you this totally posh job where you just sit on your ass all day and make well into the six figures, but is that Miller Lite I smell?” I Googled last minute costume ideas. I didn’t see anything horribly creative or offensive enough to use. I was a desperate man. I read an article that basically said look at everything you have and figure something out.
I swivel my chair around here in the former Missile Command office. By my window is a tie rack full of ties I never wear. For some reason this hit a chord with me. In the garage I know I have boxing headgear. So if I put the ties on my arms, legs, etc, and put on the Everlast headgear and handwraps, I could be……
Wait for it….
Wait for it….
A Tie Fighter! It reeks of the appropriate stench of last minutedness. It’s cheap and, I guess, creative on a level. Sure I am down with the single guy idea, but the tie fighter idea grows on me. Plus, how often do I wear ties, anyway? T votes for the tie fighter. I knew that should have been the kiss of death, but I went for it anyway.
I go about tying ties-in the proper tie knot, no less-all over my body. I used a tie as a belt. I tie ties on my arms and legs. I look like an under steroided Ultimate Warrior. I look like an over steroided member of the Rock n Roll Express. OK, this is as good as it’s gonna get. Now I am faced with another problem. Getting from my house into my car with no neighbor seeing me and thinking, “What the fuck?” I manage to do it, and drive to the par-tay.
I go to the garage, where beer pong is in full swing. I’m talking to someone, and now is time for the true test. I ask them if they know what I am. This is make or break, because this will give me a sign if people will get the joke, or think I’m just some motard who tied ties all over himself. He doesn’t get it.
It’s like I laid a big, giant, sloppy turd. GD it, I am stuck in a dud costume. Right on cue comes another guy known for dressing in obtuse costumes. Last year, he wore a Hawaiian shirt, and strung prescription bottles around his neck. He was a tropical depression. So, surely, he will get my costume, right?
Wrongo. Not even obtuse guy gets me, this doesn’t bode well. He then asks me to guess what he is. He is wearing all black, with paper cutouts of ears all over. Not out of spite at all, but I don’t know what he is. He is “all ears”. Yea, I’ll be drinking tonight. I ask his wife if she knows what I am. “Hmm…something with ties,” she says as a strike a boxing pose, point to the headgear. “Tie bo?” No, but actually not a bad guess; if that’s what most people will guess, then I will say, yes, I am in fact tie bo. Next year I plan to be callansthetics.
I wander inside, only to be met with more people who don’t know what I am. I get a few chuckles when I tell them what I am. But I think they are pity laughs for sure. At least I can quickly get rid of all the ties so I don’t look totally motarded.
I have to give credit to this bunch. There are always a lot of great ideas at this party. And since I like to offer something back to you, dear reader, I will now tell you some of the ideas I saw so you can steal them and use them for your Halloween party. First off, this douchebag was dressed as a tie fighter…
I saw 2 Jons, but oddly only 1 Kate. Octomom had hooked up with swine flu (a nurse uniform I think, with H1N1 written on it, pig ears, snout and tail) and absolutely ran beer pong for a good hour and a half. And then when they finally lost, we all used the same damn cups, so I am sure we will all now get sick. Slash and a groupie. Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett. Now that the Phillies are hot, there is always at least one guy who just slaps on a Phillies shirt, and wears his pants and cleats from softball and becomes some random Phillie. To keep with that theme, another guy came as one of the TBS broadcasters. We had a Santa Claus, and he said he still won’t bring me a pony for Xmas. A couple dressed as Fonzie (him) and Richie (her) that I thought was a pretty original idea. We had a sea cap’n and a jellyfish, Popeye and Olive Oyl. Another couple came dressed as Stepbrothers. I did see and really like that movie, but don’t remember their idea for it. It always seems there is one Will Ferrell costume at this party. No, no one bit on Land of the Lost; that would imply someone actually saw that movie. We had Spock and whoever the chick is from Star Trek. I didn’t see Hangover yet, but someone came as the character that was constantly hurting the baby he was carrying, I thought that was pretty creative as infant abuse is always funny on Halloween. We had an almost full scale Teen Wolf. A couple came dressed as green eggs and ham. The best costume I thought was a couple who came as Seal and Heidi Klum. I thought that was funny and original.
Brad the host always does a bang up job decking out the house. The front yard is all done with lights, graves, webs and fog. The garage, where beer pong is, always has lights, props and decorations up. He even has a giant clown that peeks in from the deck. It’s such a shame the weather has been shitty the last two years, but that doesn’t stop the fun from flowing. You have to be a motard to not have a good time at Brad’s party. Even if you are wearing six ties.
I had a really good time, although I really wish T was able to have gone. We had a really great idea for a costume, but at least we can just use it for next year. And if we’re smart, we should go hit the stores after Halloween and pick out 2011’s costume. Hmm, what celebrities will be dead by then…
Friday, October 23, 2009
Halloween Costume Crisis
So here’s the deal, it seems life has thrown us a curveball, on this most holy and sacred of days. Tonight is the annual Halloween party. As we were out shopping for our costumes, T uttered those dreaded words, “I think I am getting sick.” And she was right. She soldiered through yesterday, but will now be recouping for the next few days. I know she’s really sick, I see all the germs she coughed up crawling all over the keyboard.
Now, of course I can’t go. I can’t leave my sickened pookie in her hour of need. And as long as I can watch an old B&W horror flick tonight, I will be OK. But what if I was going? So, under that pretense, let’s assume I am going.
I think we had a really good idea with our costumes this year. It’s retro, but still has a very 2009 edge. I think they will still work well in 2010, but be a bit more relevant this year. She is unable to go, so now I’m stuck; I need ideas. Much how I like my women, the cheaper, the better. And I obviously don’t have a lot of time to throw something together. In what I’m sure is an idea that other, far less talented bloggers have tried to execute, and much like Jack Bauer, I have decided to do a stream of consciousness, real time debate of ideas as they hit me. It’s almost like you will be right here beside me. By the way, was that you that just totally cut one? Dude.
1:27 my first rush of ideas are pretty existential (look it up, doofus). Low key on the actual costume, but more so in the execution. My first though is to go handing out flyers saying that I lost my dog. The flyers will have pictures of Bauer on them. I could bring an empty dog leash. Or does anyone know where I can get those stiff dog leashes for the ‘invisible dog’ that were all the rage when we were growing up? After a few hours, I will call my sick wife and drag her and the dog out in the rain to deliver the dog to the house.
Pros; very little costume on my part, just make a few flyers
Cons; I don’t think the hosts will appreciate a wet dogs running through their clean house, Bau getting spooked by the people and costumes. O, and dragging T out in the rain, that’d be a con as well
1:30 same basic idea, except hand out flyers saying that my wife has disappeared. I’d put our phone number, and encourage people to call the house. I s’pose this could have been a great idea around the time of The Runaway Bride a few years ago.
Pros; very little costume on my part, just make a few flyers
Cons; drunks calling my house and waking T up
1:32 turning one of those big brown paper lawn bags inside out, possibly spraying it black-don’t ask me where-and tape the monkey from last year’s costume to the bottom. Go as the monolith from Planet of the Apes
Pros; I am sure it will be quite a struggle to turn one of those bags inside out (to hide the print on it) if I am too lazy to spray it black
Cons; paint would most likely not dry in time, people constantly asking, “What are you supposed to be?” trying to pee
1:34 and I like this idea the best so far. Go as a single guy. I don’t wear my ring and carry a stick to “beat all the women off of me.” I would also memorize 20 or so corny come on lines.
Pros; very little costume on my part, possibly get laid
Cons; more mental work than actual costume
1:38 go as Stretch Armstrong. I actually had this idea before as well
Pros; seems funny enough
Cons; trying to find XXXL sweats –in flesh tone no less-to pull this off, trying to hold my drink, not tripping over myself
1:39 going as balloon boy. Same idea with the yard bag, just write something like ‘Henne’ and ‘stuff to put in attic’ on the side. I suppose I could finagle it so that I actually disappear in the box like I’m hiding.
Pros; Seemingly minor prep, very current reference, I could pass out for a bit to recharge, and no one would know
Cons; the pain of hearing people go, “I don’t get it.”, possibly ending up the attic regardless
1:51 on a totally different thing, I come across this Balloon Boy costume on the net
http://www.upi.com/Odd_News/2009/10/22/Sales-of-balloon-boy-costumes-take-flight/UPI-23971256270264/
2:01 I discover Soupy Sales just died.
Pros; can’t get much more recent that a few hours ago,
Cons; too embarrassed to do a Google Image Search to see what he looked like, the pain of 1) no one knowing who the hell Soupy Sales is 2) Thusly not caring if he just died, not a big fan of dressing up as dead celebrities
2:15 go as the Unknown Comic
Pros; all I need is a bag to put over my head
Cons; no one under the age of 32 know who the Unknown Comic is, who wants to wear a suit to a party, chance of getting beer and vomit on my only good suit
2:18 go as the State Representative from North Dakota
Pros; no one knows who that is anyway so I can totally make it up
Cons; no one knows who that is anyway so I can make it up, again the wearing of a suit, beer and vomit on suit, the chance of getting into a heated debate over Prop 182
2:27 going as an earlicker. Go wearing nothing special. When some one asks me who I am, I tell them to lean in as I whisper, “The earlicker” in their ear and lick their ear
Pros; uh……
Cons; I would be licking someone’s damn ear, possibility of getting tongue stuck on earring, likelihood of getting slugged, just being overall disgusting.
2:28 I officially worry myself.
3:29 Why doesn’t College Humor have any damn Halloween pics up? Those college kids come up with some great ideas.
4:00 I am really considering just wrapping myself in TP and going as a mummy
Pros: Seems relatively easy
Cons; When I get wet, it will just fall apart, having less TP for Mischief Night
4:31 All hope is lost
Tune in tomorrow for more.
Now, of course I can’t go. I can’t leave my sickened pookie in her hour of need. And as long as I can watch an old B&W horror flick tonight, I will be OK. But what if I was going? So, under that pretense, let’s assume I am going.
I think we had a really good idea with our costumes this year. It’s retro, but still has a very 2009 edge. I think they will still work well in 2010, but be a bit more relevant this year. She is unable to go, so now I’m stuck; I need ideas. Much how I like my women, the cheaper, the better. And I obviously don’t have a lot of time to throw something together. In what I’m sure is an idea that other, far less talented bloggers have tried to execute, and much like Jack Bauer, I have decided to do a stream of consciousness, real time debate of ideas as they hit me. It’s almost like you will be right here beside me. By the way, was that you that just totally cut one? Dude.
1:27 my first rush of ideas are pretty existential (look it up, doofus). Low key on the actual costume, but more so in the execution. My first though is to go handing out flyers saying that I lost my dog. The flyers will have pictures of Bauer on them. I could bring an empty dog leash. Or does anyone know where I can get those stiff dog leashes for the ‘invisible dog’ that were all the rage when we were growing up? After a few hours, I will call my sick wife and drag her and the dog out in the rain to deliver the dog to the house.
Pros; very little costume on my part, just make a few flyers
Cons; I don’t think the hosts will appreciate a wet dogs running through their clean house, Bau getting spooked by the people and costumes. O, and dragging T out in the rain, that’d be a con as well
1:30 same basic idea, except hand out flyers saying that my wife has disappeared. I’d put our phone number, and encourage people to call the house. I s’pose this could have been a great idea around the time of The Runaway Bride a few years ago.
Pros; very little costume on my part, just make a few flyers
Cons; drunks calling my house and waking T up
1:32 turning one of those big brown paper lawn bags inside out, possibly spraying it black-don’t ask me where-and tape the monkey from last year’s costume to the bottom. Go as the monolith from Planet of the Apes
Pros; I am sure it will be quite a struggle to turn one of those bags inside out (to hide the print on it) if I am too lazy to spray it black
Cons; paint would most likely not dry in time, people constantly asking, “What are you supposed to be?” trying to pee
1:34 and I like this idea the best so far. Go as a single guy. I don’t wear my ring and carry a stick to “beat all the women off of me.” I would also memorize 20 or so corny come on lines.
Pros; very little costume on my part, possibly get laid
Cons; more mental work than actual costume
1:38 go as Stretch Armstrong. I actually had this idea before as well
Pros; seems funny enough
Cons; trying to find XXXL sweats –in flesh tone no less-to pull this off, trying to hold my drink, not tripping over myself
1:39 going as balloon boy. Same idea with the yard bag, just write something like ‘Henne’ and ‘stuff to put in attic’ on the side. I suppose I could finagle it so that I actually disappear in the box like I’m hiding.
Pros; Seemingly minor prep, very current reference, I could pass out for a bit to recharge, and no one would know
Cons; the pain of hearing people go, “I don’t get it.”, possibly ending up the attic regardless
1:51 on a totally different thing, I come across this Balloon Boy costume on the net
http://www.upi.com/Odd_News/2009/10/22/Sales-of-balloon-boy-costumes-take-flight/UPI-23971256270264/
2:01 I discover Soupy Sales just died.
Pros; can’t get much more recent that a few hours ago,
Cons; too embarrassed to do a Google Image Search to see what he looked like, the pain of 1) no one knowing who the hell Soupy Sales is 2) Thusly not caring if he just died, not a big fan of dressing up as dead celebrities
2:15 go as the Unknown Comic
Pros; all I need is a bag to put over my head
Cons; no one under the age of 32 know who the Unknown Comic is, who wants to wear a suit to a party, chance of getting beer and vomit on my only good suit
2:18 go as the State Representative from North Dakota
Pros; no one knows who that is anyway so I can totally make it up
Cons; no one knows who that is anyway so I can make it up, again the wearing of a suit, beer and vomit on suit, the chance of getting into a heated debate over Prop 182
2:27 going as an earlicker. Go wearing nothing special. When some one asks me who I am, I tell them to lean in as I whisper, “The earlicker” in their ear and lick their ear
Pros; uh……
Cons; I would be licking someone’s damn ear, possibility of getting tongue stuck on earring, likelihood of getting slugged, just being overall disgusting.
2:28 I officially worry myself.
3:29 Why doesn’t College Humor have any damn Halloween pics up? Those college kids come up with some great ideas.
4:00 I am really considering just wrapping myself in TP and going as a mummy
Pros: Seems relatively easy
Cons; When I get wet, it will just fall apart, having less TP for Mischief Night
4:31 All hope is lost
Tune in tomorrow for more.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Wedding Survival
So we went to a wedding last week. I say ‘went’, but I don’t know of any guy who willing goes; if you ask a guy what he did over the weekend, he will most likely say, “I was dragged to this wedding…” Not that I don’t like weddings. Sure I am not a traditional dress up kind of guy, but I really don’t mind for weddings. In fact, I even have a ‘wedding tie’; a supacool Looney Tunes characters all in hearts. Sure, it’s most likely a Valentine’s Day tie, but it still works for weddings. It must bring good luck, every wedding I’ve worn it to, the couple is still together. Hmm, but I didn’t wear it to mine, hmm…. Since this wedding was taking place on the beach, I was able to get away with no coat or Looney Tune tie. I mean, who wears a coat and tie to a beach wedding, right? Answer; just about every other guy but me.
I think most people-ahem, guys-don’t like going to weddings. They’re always on a weekend, when sports are taking place. There might be some travel time involved, plus getting all gussied up. A lot of times, it’s for someone from your girl’s side taking the plunge. And those people tend to be annoying. (Certainly, not in this case.)
I think weddings kind of get a bad rap because of the stuff that never happens. Namely, I want to go to one wedding-just one-where a huge brawl breaks out. I want to go a wedding where the animosity between both families is palpable. And it simmers just below the surface until the spark known as “open bar” comes, and then it’s chairs thrown across the room, windows shattered, knives and guns drawn. Everyone should have one wedding story like that.
From the guy perspective-do you really expect to get the female perspective from me?-weddings are usually on the list of fun things to do right after cleaning the gutters, picking up dog poo and hanging drywall. If you’re married, it’s a nice little chance to rekindle the flame. Aw, cuteness. Somewhere, in a dark recess of your mind, you are thinking, “Yea, this wedding wasn’t as good as ours.” I know, I know, it’s sad and selfish, but I guarandamntee you every married couple is thinking the same thing. It doesn’t matter, you could be at a royal wedding, sitting on bejeweled chairs and eating off of silverware made of ivory, and it still doesn’t compare to your own. If you’re married, you know what I mean.
There is a hardwired, unwritten code when married guys to a wedding. We always have to rag on the groom. I believe there are thousands of iterations of the same basic 4 jokes. (My favorite one is to take the couple aside and say, “Look, this is the best piece of advice I can give you. You can work through anything-anything-as long as you keep in mind those three little words. (Insert husband’s name), you’re right.’” Kills every time.) This is followed by a manly, hearty laugh. Then it’s usually rigmarole like “welcome to the club.” It’s all good natured ribbing. But, I have a confession. We’re not kidding. We’re really asking why have the cow when the milk is free. We hate to see a fellow brother take the plunge. So what better way to initiate him than by busting his nuts? Actually, we’re just looking for someone to commiserate with.
If you’re single, you’re just there to take a shot at the other single girls. They say there is no better place to hook up with chicks than a wedding. Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t know. But I am inclined to at least say, “Man, if I was single, I’d be banging ALL these chicks.”
The seating arrangement is always a huge hassle. When it’s your wedding, it’s a struggle to align all the personalities at a table so everyone can have fun and get along. For example, you don’t want to sit Uncle Jerry, who is a die hard deer hunter and most likely wearing a camo hat, next to your friend Rainbow, who is a pasty skinned vegan. Sure, for entertainment purposes, it’s gold, but you need people to get along. You want to keep the ages within a certain rage, sit work friends with fellow work friends, cousins with cousins (South excluded here), etc. There is also another key element you must take into consideration; the position of the bar. You definitely want your younger partiers closer to the bar. The later the shindig goes, the more likely the elderly will be trampled in a mad dash for flaming shots. Aunt Enid ain’t too quick on the walker these days. Also, be aware of where the extinguishers and fire exits are.
There were 4 couples at our table. 3 couples got along, the other ones didn’t. Dude was on his Crackberry always checking the Yankee score or some such. He was checking his phone like he was a 12 year old girl texting her BFF. It was kind of embarrassing; I even saw him using <3 for hearts. His chick was a vegan, and giving the waiter a hard time about menu options. Look, you can choose to eat whatever you want, but don’t cop a ‘tude when the vegan offering isn’t to your liking. Whatever, we all can’t get along, but we had a good time with the other couples. Plus, we were pretty close to the bar. Another tried and true line at a wedding with an open bar is to get up, address the table and say, “Anyone want anything to drink? My treat.” The drunker you are, the funnier this will be.
As in life, booze is key at weddings, it can go a long way to breaking the ice. I am a naturally shy guy. But get enough rocket fuel in me, and my tie is around my head like Rambo. I will give you a tip here as well. ALWAYS tip the bartender. On your first round, throw at least a fiver at them. Of course, make sure they see it. You will look irreparably cheap if they catch you swiping a 5 out of the glass only to put it back in. The cheap among you might say, “But if it’s open bar, why should I tip?” The answer is simple, dullard. Look at it like this. You are generally going to be drinking above your normal level of booze. If you usually choke down Coors Light in the privacy of your home, you will certainly step up to Corona, Heineken, etc. Most weddings don’t serve their wine out of boxes. So look at it this way, I am going to drink an excess of pricey liquor, so karma says you pay it forward. If you drink the equivalent of $50 of rum, if you tip $20, you’re still $30 up. Plus, most bartenders don’t make great tips at weddings. So you’re gonna send a message; take care of me, and I will take care of you. On your next round, visibly slip at least another 5, maybe live large and tip a fin. I promise you, soon enough, just the sight of you stumbling to the bar will get you quick service.
I used the above strategy at this wedding. Soon enough, I wasn’t within 5 feet of the bar, and guy was taking care of me. I always ordered 2 coconut rum and cokes, and occasionally I would order one for the wife, too. (Hi-O!) It got to the point, the guy would make 2 drinks and tell me, “This one is yours.” That my friends, is service. So try it at the next wedding you go to. You can thank me later.
So the next time some friends take the plunge, you won’t be dragged down with them. Just use some of the above helpful advice, and you’ll be OK.
I think most people-ahem, guys-don’t like going to weddings. They’re always on a weekend, when sports are taking place. There might be some travel time involved, plus getting all gussied up. A lot of times, it’s for someone from your girl’s side taking the plunge. And those people tend to be annoying. (Certainly, not in this case.)
I think weddings kind of get a bad rap because of the stuff that never happens. Namely, I want to go to one wedding-just one-where a huge brawl breaks out. I want to go a wedding where the animosity between both families is palpable. And it simmers just below the surface until the spark known as “open bar” comes, and then it’s chairs thrown across the room, windows shattered, knives and guns drawn. Everyone should have one wedding story like that.
From the guy perspective-do you really expect to get the female perspective from me?-weddings are usually on the list of fun things to do right after cleaning the gutters, picking up dog poo and hanging drywall. If you’re married, it’s a nice little chance to rekindle the flame. Aw, cuteness. Somewhere, in a dark recess of your mind, you are thinking, “Yea, this wedding wasn’t as good as ours.” I know, I know, it’s sad and selfish, but I guarandamntee you every married couple is thinking the same thing. It doesn’t matter, you could be at a royal wedding, sitting on bejeweled chairs and eating off of silverware made of ivory, and it still doesn’t compare to your own. If you’re married, you know what I mean.
There is a hardwired, unwritten code when married guys to a wedding. We always have to rag on the groom. I believe there are thousands of iterations of the same basic 4 jokes. (My favorite one is to take the couple aside and say, “Look, this is the best piece of advice I can give you. You can work through anything-anything-as long as you keep in mind those three little words. (Insert husband’s name), you’re right.’” Kills every time.) This is followed by a manly, hearty laugh. Then it’s usually rigmarole like “welcome to the club.” It’s all good natured ribbing. But, I have a confession. We’re not kidding. We’re really asking why have the cow when the milk is free. We hate to see a fellow brother take the plunge. So what better way to initiate him than by busting his nuts? Actually, we’re just looking for someone to commiserate with.
If you’re single, you’re just there to take a shot at the other single girls. They say there is no better place to hook up with chicks than a wedding. Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t know. But I am inclined to at least say, “Man, if I was single, I’d be banging ALL these chicks.”
The seating arrangement is always a huge hassle. When it’s your wedding, it’s a struggle to align all the personalities at a table so everyone can have fun and get along. For example, you don’t want to sit Uncle Jerry, who is a die hard deer hunter and most likely wearing a camo hat, next to your friend Rainbow, who is a pasty skinned vegan. Sure, for entertainment purposes, it’s gold, but you need people to get along. You want to keep the ages within a certain rage, sit work friends with fellow work friends, cousins with cousins (South excluded here), etc. There is also another key element you must take into consideration; the position of the bar. You definitely want your younger partiers closer to the bar. The later the shindig goes, the more likely the elderly will be trampled in a mad dash for flaming shots. Aunt Enid ain’t too quick on the walker these days. Also, be aware of where the extinguishers and fire exits are.
There were 4 couples at our table. 3 couples got along, the other ones didn’t. Dude was on his Crackberry always checking the Yankee score or some such. He was checking his phone like he was a 12 year old girl texting her BFF. It was kind of embarrassing; I even saw him using <3 for hearts. His chick was a vegan, and giving the waiter a hard time about menu options. Look, you can choose to eat whatever you want, but don’t cop a ‘tude when the vegan offering isn’t to your liking. Whatever, we all can’t get along, but we had a good time with the other couples. Plus, we were pretty close to the bar. Another tried and true line at a wedding with an open bar is to get up, address the table and say, “Anyone want anything to drink? My treat.” The drunker you are, the funnier this will be.
As in life, booze is key at weddings, it can go a long way to breaking the ice. I am a naturally shy guy. But get enough rocket fuel in me, and my tie is around my head like Rambo. I will give you a tip here as well. ALWAYS tip the bartender. On your first round, throw at least a fiver at them. Of course, make sure they see it. You will look irreparably cheap if they catch you swiping a 5 out of the glass only to put it back in. The cheap among you might say, “But if it’s open bar, why should I tip?” The answer is simple, dullard. Look at it like this. You are generally going to be drinking above your normal level of booze. If you usually choke down Coors Light in the privacy of your home, you will certainly step up to Corona, Heineken, etc. Most weddings don’t serve their wine out of boxes. So look at it this way, I am going to drink an excess of pricey liquor, so karma says you pay it forward. If you drink the equivalent of $50 of rum, if you tip $20, you’re still $30 up. Plus, most bartenders don’t make great tips at weddings. So you’re gonna send a message; take care of me, and I will take care of you. On your next round, visibly slip at least another 5, maybe live large and tip a fin. I promise you, soon enough, just the sight of you stumbling to the bar will get you quick service.
I used the above strategy at this wedding. Soon enough, I wasn’t within 5 feet of the bar, and guy was taking care of me. I always ordered 2 coconut rum and cokes, and occasionally I would order one for the wife, too. (Hi-O!) It got to the point, the guy would make 2 drinks and tell me, “This one is yours.” That my friends, is service. So try it at the next wedding you go to. You can thank me later.
So the next time some friends take the plunge, you won’t be dragged down with them. Just use some of the above helpful advice, and you’ll be OK.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
BullShit Facts 10/13
Muscular dystrophy has actually been cured for years, it’s just that Jerry Lewis is a greedy fuck.
Nice guys finish first.
Behind the scenes, in very high buildings, in very dark corners, music executives are secretly plotting out the grand return of a band. MTV, Fuse, VH1, Clear Channel, Comcast and Fox have all committed to supporting this act. The name of this band? Frankie Goes to Hollywood.
Cats are smarter than dogs.
Recent studies prove that milk causes cancer. And red meat. And fish. And fruit. And water. And air.
At the rate we’re going, all possible phone numbers will be exhausted in less than three years.
You only learn two years’ worth of new information in most four year colleges.
Despite years of studying, no one knows what earwax is composed of.
Hulkamania is a valid form of mania.
Coke, Diet Coke, Coke Zero and Caffiene Free Coke are all the same damn thing.
There is no place for fighting in hockey.
Good things come to those who wait.
Nice guys finish first.
Behind the scenes, in very high buildings, in very dark corners, music executives are secretly plotting out the grand return of a band. MTV, Fuse, VH1, Clear Channel, Comcast and Fox have all committed to supporting this act. The name of this band? Frankie Goes to Hollywood.
Cats are smarter than dogs.
Recent studies prove that milk causes cancer. And red meat. And fish. And fruit. And water. And air.
At the rate we’re going, all possible phone numbers will be exhausted in less than three years.
You only learn two years’ worth of new information in most four year colleges.
Despite years of studying, no one knows what earwax is composed of.
Hulkamania is a valid form of mania.
Coke, Diet Coke, Coke Zero and Caffiene Free Coke are all the same damn thing.
There is no place for fighting in hockey.
Good things come to those who wait.
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