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.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
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.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Competition
I don’t know that I would term myself as a competitive guy, but I miss competition. I get competitive at beer pong and music trivia and that’s about it. Those of you who had the extreme pleasure of working with me saw my competitive side. My old WEAMissile newsletter/website always called out the “slacker reps”. It always fired me up that I hardly ever saw another rep out in the stores. You know I always wanted the most display space in your store. I wanted those fucking reps to roll their eyes when they walked into your (AKA my) store. “Shit, Kevin’s stuff is all over the place; even the bands I know he hates. Damn it. I must suck.”
OK, so I was competitive at work. I had easily identified bad guys. I had rallying points, and often the Missile contained such verbiage. Nothing works better as a unifying cry then pointing out a bad guy and creating an ‘us vs. them’ scenario. I did that shit all the time in the ol’ newsletter.
These days, there is not much competition for me. I mean outside the other thousands of losers competing for jobs. Lately my only competition comes from getting really drunk and playing NASCAR 09. For PS2. On the easiest setting possible. And trying to cross the finish line backwards. Did I mention I get really drunk? It’s a meager existence. But I will forever enjoy crashing Jr. out of every race.
For a few summers, I played in a sand soccer tournament. I really enjoyed the training, practicing, playing and the camaraderie of it. It is easily the most truly competitive, get mad and get aggressive kind of thing I’ve done in the last few years. Sadly, I believe those days are most likely over. People have gotten older, have kids, girlfriends & boyfriends (sometimes multiple boyfriends, you know who I’m talking about), have found new passions, etc. But I really miss the feeling of ‘team’ even if it’s only for 2 days and three losses. Plus watching hotties in bikinis who are ALMOST as hot as my wife run around is mildly amusing, too. I guess.
I still play street hockey, but that is totally rec. Yea, sometimes it does get a bit chippy and aggressive, but it’s all in good fun. But there’s no grand payoff, no playoffs to be working towards. It’ still an outlet. Even though no one has a mullet.
So along comes this thing called Dragon Boating. It is very similar to rowing/crew. The boat is long and narrow, and can fit up to 20 rowers. On the front of the boat is a dragon head; at the rear is a dragon tail. At the head of the boat, facing the rowers is the drummer. The drummer has the job of keeping the rowers in sync and calling out stroke changes. I don’t know why they call this position the drummer; but they do have a big drum/bongo that they bang on to keep the rowers in sync. It must be some silly old nautical term. Whatever. At the rear of the boat is the steersperson. The steersperson is provided by the competition because you don’t want some newbie careening his boat off of another boat.
My wife drafted me onto her team this year. As my mind was screaming, “What? Are you nuts? I don’t want to do it.” My lips were saying, “Yes, dear.” Bless my lips, I guess they’re just used to saying that after all these years.
I had reservations. First of all, this event was held on the Schuylkill River, which I believe is toxic. And I would be with all teachers. And of the approx. 18 rowers, only 2 are guys. This prospect is a bit daunting. Every teacher I know is extremely passionate about their job. It’s not really a gig you can ‘fall’ into. You have to work at it, and work very hard. That being said, guess what teachers talk about when they are not in school?
They talk about school. OK, maybe I am being a tad rough, here. I mean, maybe whenever a bunch of plumbers get together, all they talk about is plumbing. Or when pilots go out to dinner on the weekend, all they do is talk about flying. Regardless, there is a certain lingo involved; one that even after all these years is still a mostly foreign language to me. At times, it can be a bit intimidating as this discussion is going on, and I have absolutely zilch to add to it. It’s hard to make wisecracks when you are unfamiliar with the materials at hand. The “Little Johnny” jokes can only go so far. Part of this is my fault. Honestly, I am very shy. I know those of you who know me and have heard my jokes, smelled my farts and read this here Klog will find that hard to believe. But it really is true. So as a shy person, with all these people talking about unfamiliar topics, it gets a bit intimidating.
I’ve been obsessing with the theory of work to reward lately, and dragon boating (which will now be shortened to DB) is a good example. We have three one hour long practices. We use these to experiment with different strokes, acclimate new people and watch the wretched Schuylkill River eat through our clothes. The average DB race lasts under 3 minutes. My elementary math tells me that’s 180 minutes of practice for 9 minutes of action. Which precisely describes me in high school. (Think about it, you’ll get it.)
The day itself is very long. T is the captain. Our day started when we woke up at 4:15 AM. Yes, you read that right, A freakin’ M. Which is followed by getting down to the site by like 5:30. I yi yi. I really think the only fun you can have at 5 AM on a Saturday is sleeping. I will admit that it was oddly serene and peaceful to be by the river to watch the skies lighten and the early morning fog lift. Our first race is 8:09. With traffic and the thousands of people this event draws, you have to get the team there early.
We go through the process of waiting in line to get on the boat, getting life jackets and oars, and rowing into position to start the race. So we row, row, row our boat to the team’s best time ever. And a 7th place finish. I guess I should mention here that it’s an 8 boat race. We totally got smoked by the winning team. They were so fast, they were already back at their tent by the time we crossed the line. I guess they had to go shoot up more performance enhancing drugs.
We go back to our tent and wait. There are approx 20 such races. From there, new races are formed, presumably based on time. We won’t race for a few more hours, so there is plenty of time to gorge on the metric ton of food and drink everyone brought. And lemme tell ya, there is no better way to celebrate a new team record then by having a cold one at 8:30. The scene along the river is actually pretty cool. There are over a hundred tents for the various teams. People grilling up breakfast sandwiches, tables full of food, grills smoking, more canopies and tents erected. This event attracts teams-real, competitive teams-from all over. There were four Canadian teams, as well as teams from DC and other places as well. The established teams-or the ones who went to Kinko’s-get vinyl team banners to hang from their tents.
The drummers can be creative. They can wear whatever elaborate costume they want. Apparently, the DB festival doesn’t care if they fall in and their costume becomes heavy and waterlogged. Much like in real music bands, no one cares about the drummers. Over the last two years, we’ve seen Elvis (cripes this guy is still everywhere), a full fledged pig costume, Ronald McDonald (is there any even corporate America can’t wedge its way into?), witches and sharks.
We get to our second race. One team is missing, and constant public announcements are made. They are holding things up. Our thought is this is one less time to lose to. At the last possible minute, they appear. Turns out they are in the tent right next to ours. OK, now I’m pissed. How can we be there on time, and these boneheads be late? The bad guys have been established. We can lose to every other team in this heat, but we HAVE to at least beat these guys. As we row up to the starting position, we have time to survey the competition. On our port side-left for you landlubbers-there is a boat full of kids, with their parents. Shit, we can’t get beat by a bunch of freaking 11 year olds, can we? Ah, yes, here the juices get flowing. All I want to do is beat the team in the next tent. Later on, we can go back to their village to rape and pillage.
The horn blows and we row, row, row our boat. Unlike just about every other sport where you can see what’s going on the whole time, if you divert your attention here, you may get out of sync. I manage to sneak the occasional glance. I can’t see the team I want to beat, and it looks like those kids are freaking little motors out on the river. We shave a second from the first race, finish fifth, but lose to the late team next to us by .8. That might not sound like a lot-it certainly doesn’t look like a lot-but in any race, that is a lot. Damn it vanquished again. Bad guys win.
Now we can load up on food. Burgers and dogs flow like the river before us. I surprisingly only have one beer the whole day. It is at times like this that Evil Kev can emerge. Evil Kev loves to just drink and drink and drink if there is nothing else to do. Luckily, Evil Kev stays in his dark corner for the day. I do pig out, purely just to add ballast to the boat. More hurry up and wait.
Finally the third and final race is upon us. I will admit to being a bit ‘done’ at this point. The day is starting to get long, and it’s not even like if we win this one race we win a medal and get put on a pedestal while our national anthem played. But we do have pride. Our times have been going down, and you always want to go out on a high note. As we row out, we again have a chance to survey the competition. Again, to our left is a boat full of kids. I think they are different kids this time, because it would suck to have the same bunch of toeheads beat us twice.
We are now facing a huge headwind (i.e. the wind is blowing against us). We can only hope this is the sort of wind that can snap young kids’ arms. The horn sounds and we set sail. I am a bit better about watching the other boats as I row. From what I see, we are doing well. As we row on, I can hear a new urgency in our drummer’s voice. I look up again, and we have achieved some separation from most of the other boats. I can see the buoys slip by. Above the splashing water, I can see just one boat close to us. I see only a few buoys left. I can hear the urgency in the drummer’s voice. I swear I am giving this everything I got now. Two more buoys to go, and we are dragon neck and dragon neck. I put my head down to row. The last buoys goes by, I look up to see…
One boat ahead of us. We came in second place, a team record. From my vantage point it seemed far closer than the official difference of four seconds. It was quite a rush for those few fleeting seconds. It was a good way to go out. But now I want to do what any young stud would want to do after such a day; go home and nap. A day like this is a long day indeed. For only nine minutes of exertion, there is so much more. From getting up at 4 AM, setting everything up, sitting around, race, then wait for a few hours, eat, rinse, rather, repeat.
In the end, everyone had a good time. It’s a great little vibe going on by the river. In the future, we should plan to have other stuff to do while we wait. Something like, say, beer pong? Or strip poker? Just saying, is all. Next year, I see the team being more in sync than a shitty boy band.
DVD Bonus Material
OK, much like a shitty sequel, this was a rush job. I haven’t been able to finish too many Klogs lately (I have 2 more almost finished) and just wanted to get something out to keep you all in the habit of lending me a few minutes to pollute your consciousness. I promise the next one will be better, funnier and hopefully shorter.
OK, so I was competitive at work. I had easily identified bad guys. I had rallying points, and often the Missile contained such verbiage. Nothing works better as a unifying cry then pointing out a bad guy and creating an ‘us vs. them’ scenario. I did that shit all the time in the ol’ newsletter.
These days, there is not much competition for me. I mean outside the other thousands of losers competing for jobs. Lately my only competition comes from getting really drunk and playing NASCAR 09. For PS2. On the easiest setting possible. And trying to cross the finish line backwards. Did I mention I get really drunk? It’s a meager existence. But I will forever enjoy crashing Jr. out of every race.
For a few summers, I played in a sand soccer tournament. I really enjoyed the training, practicing, playing and the camaraderie of it. It is easily the most truly competitive, get mad and get aggressive kind of thing I’ve done in the last few years. Sadly, I believe those days are most likely over. People have gotten older, have kids, girlfriends & boyfriends (sometimes multiple boyfriends, you know who I’m talking about), have found new passions, etc. But I really miss the feeling of ‘team’ even if it’s only for 2 days and three losses. Plus watching hotties in bikinis who are ALMOST as hot as my wife run around is mildly amusing, too. I guess.
I still play street hockey, but that is totally rec. Yea, sometimes it does get a bit chippy and aggressive, but it’s all in good fun. But there’s no grand payoff, no playoffs to be working towards. It’ still an outlet. Even though no one has a mullet.
So along comes this thing called Dragon Boating. It is very similar to rowing/crew. The boat is long and narrow, and can fit up to 20 rowers. On the front of the boat is a dragon head; at the rear is a dragon tail. At the head of the boat, facing the rowers is the drummer. The drummer has the job of keeping the rowers in sync and calling out stroke changes. I don’t know why they call this position the drummer; but they do have a big drum/bongo that they bang on to keep the rowers in sync. It must be some silly old nautical term. Whatever. At the rear of the boat is the steersperson. The steersperson is provided by the competition because you don’t want some newbie careening his boat off of another boat.
My wife drafted me onto her team this year. As my mind was screaming, “What? Are you nuts? I don’t want to do it.” My lips were saying, “Yes, dear.” Bless my lips, I guess they’re just used to saying that after all these years.
I had reservations. First of all, this event was held on the Schuylkill River, which I believe is toxic. And I would be with all teachers. And of the approx. 18 rowers, only 2 are guys. This prospect is a bit daunting. Every teacher I know is extremely passionate about their job. It’s not really a gig you can ‘fall’ into. You have to work at it, and work very hard. That being said, guess what teachers talk about when they are not in school?
They talk about school. OK, maybe I am being a tad rough, here. I mean, maybe whenever a bunch of plumbers get together, all they talk about is plumbing. Or when pilots go out to dinner on the weekend, all they do is talk about flying. Regardless, there is a certain lingo involved; one that even after all these years is still a mostly foreign language to me. At times, it can be a bit intimidating as this discussion is going on, and I have absolutely zilch to add to it. It’s hard to make wisecracks when you are unfamiliar with the materials at hand. The “Little Johnny” jokes can only go so far. Part of this is my fault. Honestly, I am very shy. I know those of you who know me and have heard my jokes, smelled my farts and read this here Klog will find that hard to believe. But it really is true. So as a shy person, with all these people talking about unfamiliar topics, it gets a bit intimidating.
I’ve been obsessing with the theory of work to reward lately, and dragon boating (which will now be shortened to DB) is a good example. We have three one hour long practices. We use these to experiment with different strokes, acclimate new people and watch the wretched Schuylkill River eat through our clothes. The average DB race lasts under 3 minutes. My elementary math tells me that’s 180 minutes of practice for 9 minutes of action. Which precisely describes me in high school. (Think about it, you’ll get it.)
The day itself is very long. T is the captain. Our day started when we woke up at 4:15 AM. Yes, you read that right, A freakin’ M. Which is followed by getting down to the site by like 5:30. I yi yi. I really think the only fun you can have at 5 AM on a Saturday is sleeping. I will admit that it was oddly serene and peaceful to be by the river to watch the skies lighten and the early morning fog lift. Our first race is 8:09. With traffic and the thousands of people this event draws, you have to get the team there early.
We go through the process of waiting in line to get on the boat, getting life jackets and oars, and rowing into position to start the race. So we row, row, row our boat to the team’s best time ever. And a 7th place finish. I guess I should mention here that it’s an 8 boat race. We totally got smoked by the winning team. They were so fast, they were already back at their tent by the time we crossed the line. I guess they had to go shoot up more performance enhancing drugs.
We go back to our tent and wait. There are approx 20 such races. From there, new races are formed, presumably based on time. We won’t race for a few more hours, so there is plenty of time to gorge on the metric ton of food and drink everyone brought. And lemme tell ya, there is no better way to celebrate a new team record then by having a cold one at 8:30. The scene along the river is actually pretty cool. There are over a hundred tents for the various teams. People grilling up breakfast sandwiches, tables full of food, grills smoking, more canopies and tents erected. This event attracts teams-real, competitive teams-from all over. There were four Canadian teams, as well as teams from DC and other places as well. The established teams-or the ones who went to Kinko’s-get vinyl team banners to hang from their tents.
The drummers can be creative. They can wear whatever elaborate costume they want. Apparently, the DB festival doesn’t care if they fall in and their costume becomes heavy and waterlogged. Much like in real music bands, no one cares about the drummers. Over the last two years, we’ve seen Elvis (cripes this guy is still everywhere), a full fledged pig costume, Ronald McDonald (is there any even corporate America can’t wedge its way into?), witches and sharks.
We get to our second race. One team is missing, and constant public announcements are made. They are holding things up. Our thought is this is one less time to lose to. At the last possible minute, they appear. Turns out they are in the tent right next to ours. OK, now I’m pissed. How can we be there on time, and these boneheads be late? The bad guys have been established. We can lose to every other team in this heat, but we HAVE to at least beat these guys. As we row up to the starting position, we have time to survey the competition. On our port side-left for you landlubbers-there is a boat full of kids, with their parents. Shit, we can’t get beat by a bunch of freaking 11 year olds, can we? Ah, yes, here the juices get flowing. All I want to do is beat the team in the next tent. Later on, we can go back to their village to rape and pillage.
The horn blows and we row, row, row our boat. Unlike just about every other sport where you can see what’s going on the whole time, if you divert your attention here, you may get out of sync. I manage to sneak the occasional glance. I can’t see the team I want to beat, and it looks like those kids are freaking little motors out on the river. We shave a second from the first race, finish fifth, but lose to the late team next to us by .8. That might not sound like a lot-it certainly doesn’t look like a lot-but in any race, that is a lot. Damn it vanquished again. Bad guys win.
Now we can load up on food. Burgers and dogs flow like the river before us. I surprisingly only have one beer the whole day. It is at times like this that Evil Kev can emerge. Evil Kev loves to just drink and drink and drink if there is nothing else to do. Luckily, Evil Kev stays in his dark corner for the day. I do pig out, purely just to add ballast to the boat. More hurry up and wait.
Finally the third and final race is upon us. I will admit to being a bit ‘done’ at this point. The day is starting to get long, and it’s not even like if we win this one race we win a medal and get put on a pedestal while our national anthem played. But we do have pride. Our times have been going down, and you always want to go out on a high note. As we row out, we again have a chance to survey the competition. Again, to our left is a boat full of kids. I think they are different kids this time, because it would suck to have the same bunch of toeheads beat us twice.
We are now facing a huge headwind (i.e. the wind is blowing against us). We can only hope this is the sort of wind that can snap young kids’ arms. The horn sounds and we set sail. I am a bit better about watching the other boats as I row. From what I see, we are doing well. As we row on, I can hear a new urgency in our drummer’s voice. I look up again, and we have achieved some separation from most of the other boats. I can see the buoys slip by. Above the splashing water, I can see just one boat close to us. I see only a few buoys left. I can hear the urgency in the drummer’s voice. I swear I am giving this everything I got now. Two more buoys to go, and we are dragon neck and dragon neck. I put my head down to row. The last buoys goes by, I look up to see…
One boat ahead of us. We came in second place, a team record. From my vantage point it seemed far closer than the official difference of four seconds. It was quite a rush for those few fleeting seconds. It was a good way to go out. But now I want to do what any young stud would want to do after such a day; go home and nap. A day like this is a long day indeed. For only nine minutes of exertion, there is so much more. From getting up at 4 AM, setting everything up, sitting around, race, then wait for a few hours, eat, rinse, rather, repeat.
In the end, everyone had a good time. It’s a great little vibe going on by the river. In the future, we should plan to have other stuff to do while we wait. Something like, say, beer pong? Or strip poker? Just saying, is all. Next year, I see the team being more in sync than a shitty boy band.
DVD Bonus Material
OK, much like a shitty sequel, this was a rush job. I haven’t been able to finish too many Klogs lately (I have 2 more almost finished) and just wanted to get something out to keep you all in the habit of lending me a few minutes to pollute your consciousness. I promise the next one will be better, funnier and hopefully shorter.
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