Today when I was jogging, I saw a kid with a huge hard-looking hunk of snow cocked back and ready to throw it at his dog which looked to be only around 35 or 40 pounds. Now, I would give him the benefit of the doubt and say he was throwing it at his brother or some other target, but when he saw that I was looking at him, he stopped.

What I should have said was, "Hey, you kids! Don't throw snow hunks at your dog," but all that came out was, in my stern teacher voice, "Fellas . . ." With that one word, I hope I conveyed that they shouldn't hurt their poor little dog, who came running over to me to greet me.

Also, I saw this snowman today, and you may notice that he/she is holding a Starbucks cup, perhaps a latte, and he/she is wearing a scarf, or maybe one of those hipster ascots. That's what I get for jogging through Lincoln Park in Chicago; even the snowmen think they're all that.

So, I'm off to Florida tomorrow morning to stay with one of my best friends (guy from this post) and his wife, a great couple that I hardly see these days. HLP (Heterosexual Life Partner) and his wife are also coming, so while I'm not too enthused about being the 5th wheel, I am glad to be spending New Years Eve with some of my greatest of friends. Remember people, we often make a big deal about what we're doing for NYE, and then we're horribly disappointed when it's not the perfect night. Well, let me lay this one you: It's not about where you go or what you do; just surround yourself with great friends you care about and who care about you, and you're going to have a terrific time.

I'll be signing off for a few days, having a ball in Florida, but I wish you all a "Merry New Year!"

More Crap You Don't Need To Know About Dr. Ken

I couldn't think of a good topic today, so what you're going to get is one of these flipping questionnaires. No, I'm not going to tag any of you to answer these because then you feel obligated to do it, and you feel like a jerk. Just enjoy. Or don't. Either way, but I'll do my best to make it interesting.

1. If you could build a house anywhere, where would it be?

I'm going to say somewhere in Colorado because I like the mountain air out there, but if we're saying anywhere in the world, I think I'd say somewhere like Sweden or Norway. I'll let you know more if I make it out to Scandinavia this summer. Actually, I think I'm more of a city guy, so it might just be here in Chicago. It's all very stressful - probably why I'm a perennial renter.

2. What is your favorite article of clothing?

I just bought a Cleveland Browns shirt that looks good on me. I became a fan one day at the bar when my Bears quarterback threw 3 pics to the same player in the same game. I decided at that point that I'd go sit on the couches with the Browns fans in the bar, and they played an awesome game, beating the defending champ Saints. After that, they beat the Patriots! The rest of the season they started to suck again like they usually do, but I always liked "The Brownies," and I always will.

3. Favorite physical feature on the opposite sex?

I'm not sure there is a name for it, but I like that hip bone area where you can grab onto it - and I don't necessarily mean that in a sexual way. It's just one of the many contours on a woman that make them beautiful, and I appreciate it.

4. What's the best CD that you bought?

A buddy just downloaded the entire Kyuss catalog for me (they are the guys that went on to form Queens of the Stone Age), and they are unbelievable and great to listen to at the gym. A reformed version of Kyuss without the guitar player are touring right now but only in Europe, which seems to be the case with every band I get into.

5. Where are your favorite places to be?

At Wrigley Field and anywhere with my friends and family, "wrastling" with my nephews, making them laugh uncontrollably.

6. Where's your least favorite place to be?

Waiting. For anything. When I was a kid, I'd ask my parents before we went out to eat, "Are we having fast food or slow food?"

7. What's your favorite place to be massaged?

My hands. The gal who cuts my hair puts a hot towel on my face while she gives me a hand massage, and it's like heaven. She also does the scalp, which would place in a close second.

8. What's most important: strong in body or strong in mind?

The mind for sure. What a dumb question - must have been written by someone who is week minded but with shredded abs and shit.

9. What time do you wake up in the morning?

7 AM on weekdays
10 AM on weekends

10. What is your favorite kitchen appliance?

I'm big on the blender lately, whipping up protein shakes most every day with bananas, peanut butter, and sometimes coffee - because I'm a caffeine junky. A good question for one of these things would be, "Would you rather give up caffeine or alcohol?" As a guy who likes vodka/red bulls, having both drugs at once, I don't have an answer for this. Told you it's a good question.

11. What makes you really angry?

People who suck and can't have a good time and seem to have no problem sucking a whole room of people into their suckiness.

12. Do you believe in an afterlife?

Sadly, no. I don't, but I hope I'm wrong. Odds are if it is true, and I spent my whole life not believing, then I probably wouldn't be going there, but it would be good to know people deserving of going would.

13. Favorite children's book?

"A Light in the Attic" by Shel Silverstein. He was the man, and he wrote "Boy Named Sue" too. When I was a kid, I really thought that he had a beard covering his whole body like that one goofy cartoon of him in the book.

14. What's your favorite household chore?

I really don't mind cleaning the bathroom that much, and it feels so good to have it done. Jeez, that one was boring. Sorry.

15. If you have a tattoo, what is it?

I don't, but I always wanted to get the Autobot and Decepticon symbols on each shoulder blade, as my shoulder region is one of my presentable regions. However, then the "Transformers" movies came out and sucked, so I scratched that idea. Still, since I'm turning 34 in like a week, I think the whole tattoo thing has passed me by, and with it tattoos based on toys.

16. What's in the trunk of your car?

A baseball bat. I work in some tough neighborhoods sometimes, so I like to keep a perfectly legal Louisville Slugger in the old trunk for emergencies.

17. Do you prefer sushi or a hamburger?

Well, you caught me immediately following a terrible sushi experience, so I'm going to go burger, being the more consistent of the two. So tonight, I was already giving the driver a really generous tip, and then he conveniently didn't have enough change, making me tip him even more. Then they forgot my wasabi, and the rolls were falling apart and not very good. A burger is always a burger - hard to mess up, unless it's at Hooters, but then there is good scenery, usually.

So, yeah, if you want to do this questionnaire or another, go for it. If you want to comment on one of these in the comment section, great. I will probably suspect that you only read that one question, and I'm not saying I would blame you for that.

Gance on.

The Olive Race

When my dad was pledging his fraternity he participated in something called The Olive Race in which a bunch of pledges had to run across a big room with an olive held in their asses, and the last place finisher and all who dropped their olives had to eat their cargo. I'm proud of my father for a lot of things, and one of them is that he finished first in this race.

This is out of character for my dad, seeing as he's a college professor who I've never seen drink more than two consecutive beers in one sitting. I mean, he's a jogger like me, so the race I can see, but things in our butts is not a Noisewater thing.

So, yesterday while standing around the appetizers, including olives, before Christmas dinner, I said to my dad, "Hey, do you fancy an olive race?" We all had a good laugh about that, as we've heard the story many times. I had to ask him this time who lost the race, and he knew his name straightaway: Ron Wilson. I asked if he got dysentery and died shortly thereafter, to which my dad said, "I hope so. I hated his guts." I guess old Ron Wilson flunked out not long after eating an olive that dropped out of his own butt. Not a good college experience, I'd say. Go Noisewaters! We're winners!!

Burritos

So, what makes a good burrito and what makes a shit one because good ones need to be a little bit shitty to be any good. After all, when you get one from Chipotle, it's always nice and quick and clean, but that rice sucks up all the grease, and can you really have a good 'rito when the grease doesn't soak through the bag, making an awesome grease stain?

Another qualification is they have to have Jarritos, the Mexican soda, preferably Lemon Lime if they got it. Furthermore, they need to have tongue on the menu. I don't want to actually order it. Fuck no! Can you imagine actually eating some disgusting cow's tongue? Putting the inside of a cow's mouth into your own mouth? No! That sounds like the worst thing ever, but they need to have it as an option to give it that street cred.

Also, it's bullshit if they have things like hot dogs and cheese fries on the menu. Don't try to cater to us Gringos and our horrible taste. We're idiots! Haven't you learned that in your tenure in our shitty country?

So, have some grease, but not too much, and throw some Mexican soda our way, don't have any bullshit like cheese fries on the menu, and I want some tongue on the menu - but I don't want to eat that disgusting shit. Then again, if I'm drunk enough, I really don't care about any of this; just fill my belly so I'm not so damn hungover in the morning.

I have to go Christmas shopping tomorrow. Alone. It seems like this is always the way I end up doing it, wandering through a mall with no idea what the hell I should get anyone. I usually pull it off pretty well, and I typically get one of those awesome mall pretzels. By the end of the day, I have consolidated all the gifts into two big heavy bags, and then I'm paying those two bags off until mid April.

After that, I drive out to my parents' place, wrap up all the gifts, usually doing a pretty half-assed job at it, since it's only going to get torn up anyway, and then I spend the night by my sister's place with her and the nephews. Only one and a half of the three still believe in Santa Claus, but that's enough to make it a lot of fun when they come down the stairs in their jammies and see what St. Nick brought them.

I really do love my family, and this is the time of year I really appreciate them. And those mall pretzels.

How are you doing with your shopping, and how are you spending your holiday, Seven Readers?

The Rocky Button

I feel like I have a lot of ideas through out the course of a day, most of which are totally stupid, impractical, and a little nuts, but occasionally there are some gems, such as "The Rocky Button." What is this, you may ask? Well, you know that feeling when you're nearing the end of your workout, skipping through songs on your MP3 player that will pump you up, but the lactic acid is bubbling up to your throat, and you feel like not even Jeffrey Dahmer chasing you with a knife and intentions of cutting off your head and pouring battery acid into your ears would motivate you to run any faster? That's when you hit the Rocky button, and voila! On comes the most uplifting song, at least for Caucasian America, of all time!

But, guess what?

Someone already thought of it. I burned a workout disc for a ladyfriend recently with "Gonna' Fly Now," and when I told her about this awesome idea I had years back, she said that it already exists - a button where you can set a certain song to play whenever you hit it.

God damn it.

This always happens to me. Why can't people just steal my stupid ideas.

P.S.: This is a combination a bit of trivia and just something that occurred to me that I'd like to know: Do they ever mention how many pounds Rocky is giving up to fight Ivan Drago in "Rocky IV"

Vaginae

I was typing to a friend online, and I was saying something about vaginas, don't ask why, and I noticed that the squiggly bad-spelling line came up under vaginas. I figured that it must not be the proper plural form of the word, so I looked it up. Sure enough, the plural is vaginae (click here if you want proof).

Vaginae is quite lovely, actually. It sounds French.

Glad I could educate tonight, and if you click over to the dictionary page, be sure to click the sound thingy where the guy pronounces the word because he sounds mad creepy.

A New Hood Term

I was working with an African American student on the west side of Chicago today, and he claimed to be tired from playing "the game" all night. Sidebar: African American kids always say that they play "the game" in reference to video games in general, whereas kids of other nationalities will say "play video games," or just name the system, such as "play Playstation" or "play my D.S."

But, that's not the new term I wanted to share with you. He went on to say that "Gran Turismo" was humpin' all night. In other words, he was playing the game for a long time, and it was a lot of fun. The game wasn't literally humping the console; they don't do that quite yet.

I looked up the word in this sense on Urban Dictionary just now, and the only sense they had it in was to say that you're working hard on something as fast as you can, as in, "I'm humpin' it, so get off my back!"

What do you think, Seven Readers? Do you think you can use this most modern of slang terms in daily conversation in your lifer or least in the comments section?

Here's mine, "I was out at the bar drinkin' my tits off, and UFC was humpin' on the plasmas til midnight!"

Is Facebook Killing Blogger?

So, I blogged long before Facebook, but now it just feels like I can make a lot more people laugh with instant results on FB in a way that I just can't with Blogger. Still, I know that Blogger is more O.G., and it's a smarter media in most every way.

Well, either way, I already put this on Facebook, but it's too damn funny not to share with you all, my intelligent friends that may not spend their day playing farming games and Family Feud knockoffs. As always, hit pause on the music player on the right before hitting play and hearing this awesomeness.



I never had Bieber Fever until he dabbled in death metal. What a voice on that kid! Sounds like one long sustained belch!

Caption Contest Part Somewhere Around 5

I'm not sure what's going on here, but it's awesome. Maybe one of you can make up a scenario because I know I have the funniest Seven Readers around . . .

Someone Asked Me To Go To "Tron" . . .

. . . on opening night, and I said, "I don't really like going to 'the show' that much anymore.

Let me tell you why this is an old guy thing to say:

1. The fact that leaving the house to see a movie is too big of an outing for me.

2. The fact that I said "the show." It's the first time I've ever said that, and the only people I know to say that were my friends' parents when I was a kid.

How about you, Seven Readers? Have you had any signs that you're old lately?

If you're anything like me, your stream of consciousness went a little something like this tonight:

"Man, this Rainbow Bright Touchdown Wand is scoring these Patriots way too many touchdowns today, but I'm really glad I didn't participate in wine bombs on a Monday. At what age can I start to be considered a barfly? Gosh, I like to think I'm not old and annoying enough to qualify next to these folks. Shit, tomorrow I have to go into work early so I can leave early enough to make it to that chess meeting on the south side. You know, I only came here tonight to see redhead, Blind Melon artist girl, and she just stopped in for 12 seconds in her Mega Man boots to pick up her makeup bag. Still, she did grab/pinch my waist on her way out, which is a good sign, but she has a boyfriend. She is adorable with her robot artwork . . ."

That all makes perfect sense, right?

Macbeth in the Hood

I was teaching Shakespeare's Macbeth to some inner city Black kids the other day, and I got off to a bad start when I called one kid a nickname he didn't like, some kids snickered, so he called me "whiteboy" in response. Now, I knew I was in the wrong, so I just explained to him that I won't call him that name if he won't call me whiteboy. It's not a name that offends me, it's just punking me out in front of the kids, which is kind of like what I did to him. He said he meant no disrespect, and by the end of the class, we were cool - he was reading the part of Banquo.

I hate to stereotype, but oh well: As usual, the girls were participating better than the boys. It was hard to get the boys to even read parts like "Murderer 3," where they would only have a line or two. After Banquo's parts were up, he volunteered to read other parts! This was after starting the class by saying MF'er around 19 times and calling me whiteboy - now I had him on my side, and things were looking up. What's more, these kids were into it.

Our friend Banquo said of Macbeth, "Damn, he just killin' everybody!" That's true, actually.

This is interesting though: after Banquot dies, his ghost comes back to visit Macbeth. It was around this time that our Banquot hit his knee on his desk and let out an impressive chain of obscenities. I said, "Banquot's ghost has returned! And he's swearing!"

That even got a laugh out of some of those too cool for school kids who didn't want to do anything.

Rule #34: The Final Chapter

Rule #34: Generally accepted Internet rule that states that pornography or sexually related material exists for any conceivable subject (from urbandictionary.com).

Well, at last, we have come to the end of our journey. In these two searches to disprove/prove Rule #34, Crom first decided to search for MC Escher porno. Now, Dr. Ken had no idea what this would entail, but Crom, for some reason, had some ideas about infinite views of one fornication where you can see other fornication within that one, and so on. It's astounding what this guy can come up with, which is why he was a worthy guest star for this project! Alas, the boys came up empty handed here, but it was a bold artistic shot, so one has to applaud their efforts. As always, be sure to turn off the music player on the right panel before hitting play so that you can hear the moans and growns as well as the clickity-clacks of the keyboard because it just makes it more . . . organic.



Lastly, Dr. Ken decides to search for BBQ porno, and they weren't taking no for an answer on this search. This one clocks in at around 15 minutes or something absurd like that, and the tangents are pretty entertaining. You will hear a reference to "Thick as a Brick" by Jethro Tull (a song of epic length like this podcast), how the boys feel about two men and one girl in a scene (and the danger of crossing the streams), and much, much more. Give it a listen, and if you skip around, they'll understand.


Now, let's break down our totals and see what kind of percentage the boys had at finding porno on the Internet based on subject pulled randomly, on the spot, out of their heads . . .

1. Care Bear Porn: Success

2. Snot Porn: Success

3. Furniture Porn: Success

4. Optimus Prime Porn: Failure

5. Cthulhu Porn: Success

6. Werewolf Porn: Success

7. Wacky Wall Walker (TM) Porn: Failure

8. Meat Tenderizer Porn: Failure

9. Water Slide Porn: Failure

10. Gargoyle Porn: Success

11. MC Escher Porn: Failure

12. BBQ Porn: Success

That made our researchers 7 for 12, roughly 58%

What did we learn? Shit, were we supposed to learn something? Forget that! We had a lot of fun, and we hope you did too. Actually, we hope you had as much fun as those gargoyles seemed to be having.

Overall, Seven Readers, what did you think? Do you have an idea for Dr. Kenneth Noisewater's next podcast? Anyone going to bump these on their ipods on the way to work, perhaps loud enough on the train for other people to hear? Maybe a werewolf orgy will break out? Who knows?

The Frisky Cabbie

Something about me leads people to believe that they can tell me very random and revealing things about themselves, and I wish I knew what it is I was doing to illicit this because I would cease it instantly.

The other day my cab driver (I couldn't place his accent, but he was Caucasian in appearance)and I were exchanging a pleasant conversation, and then it took a turn for the . . . odd.

Dr. Ken: Are you married, Cabbie?

Cabbie: Yeah, 20 years now. Good woman. Good pussy, too.

D.K.: Oh. Congrats.

Cabbie: Yes, I'm 49 and she's 50. I think women get hornier as they get older.

D.K.: That's entirely possible. I haven't dabbled in women quite that long in the tooth. Yet.

Cabbie: Yeah, she's always wanting to have sex. I have to take Viagra to keep up. Have you tried Viagra?

D.K.: Not quite yet. How's it working for you?

Cabbie: It's great! I take one right near the end of my shift, and then I take another right when I get home. Then I'm ready to go, and the next morning, we can do it again!

D.K.: That's fabulous, Cabbie. You ever get one of those woodies that lasts for over four hours?

Cabbie: No.

D.K.: That's good. I don't imagine that's very . . . comfortable. This is my stop.

Cabbie: Okay, buddy. Try that Viagra!

D.K.: I just might. Give my best to The Mrs. You going to pop some pills and rock her world tonight?

Cabbie: You know it!

----------------------------------------

Have you ever had a situation like that? How do people get a sense that I'm not easily offended, and in fact, welcome perverted conversations? How about you, Seven Readers? Do you ever run into people telling you goofy stuff like this?

Rule #34, Part 5: Waterslides and Gargoyles Were Meant for One Another

Rule #34: Generally accepted internet rule that states that pornography or sexually related material exists for any conceivable subject (from urbandictionary.com).

These two searches putting this rule to the test provided some great material. Perhaps our hosts, Dr. Ken and Crom, were getting "looser" with the cocktails because they seem to be really on in these two selections. As always, hit pause on the music player to the right to hear the commentary.

First off, Crom decides to do a search for "water slide porn," and while they didn't find any such things on the web, they did find out about "water slide camel toe," which is hilarious in its own right. Also, it seemed like the Internet really didn't like the notion of porno and water slides and combinations there of because everything seemed to crash around this time. However, Dr. Ken and Crom fixed the connection, and they were ready for their next search . . .


. . . which was "gargoyle porn." This was easily the best movie found during this project, and it had very high production value and solid makeup jobs. Those gargoyles were angry and really going to town on that poor gal! This was a tricky one to call because the fellas seemed to be more just statues than gargoyles, and as Crom pointed out, they had no claws or wings. But, because they were painted a statue color, they were on a clock tower, and they were really mean looking, our hosts decided to deem it "gargoyle porn." The idea of providing links to porn is not what this site is all about, but you just have to see this thing to believe it - if you're over 18 that is.


For some reason (cocktails!) the boys lost track of how many searches they had done, so there are a few more searches beyond ten for a total of around twelve or so. Stay tuned, you sick bastards!

Rule #34, Part 4: Dr. Ken and Crom Get Overly Confident

Rule #34: Generally accepted internet rule that states that pornography or sexually related material exists for any conceivable subject (from urbandictionary.com).

For entries 7 and 8, The boys got a little too random with their entries (see below posts for a description of the podcast project if you don't know the idea yet). Oh, and as always, be sure to turn off my awesome music on the player on the right portion of the screen before hitting play on the clips to better hear the astonishing stupidity.


First, Crom opts for Wacky Wall Walker Porn. Dr. Ken had a notion he was onto something strange when he said, "What were those thing called that you got out of the machines at the grocery store . . ." Turns out, the two couldn't find anything on the web involving those classic toys and porn acts. Dr. Ken's notion of whipping a Wall Walker onto a woman's butt for it to crawl down (or perhaps two buts for a race) was intriguing to Crom, but if such a thing exists, these boys were unable to find it on this particular night.


Next, Dr. Ken throws "meat tenderizer porn" into the search engine, and luckily for any participants in such a heinous act, there does not appear to be any of that happening on the World Wide Web. My Beloved Seven Readers, let me make this clear: This is not an invitation to any of you to be the first known person to film such a thing.

Rule #34, Part 3: Tentacles and Werewolves Need Loving Too

Rule #34: Generally accepted internet rule that states that pornography or sexually related material exists for any conceivable subject (from urbandictionary.com).

In this installment of the podcast (go down a few posts to see the concept of this project if you don't know the story) Crom thinks he has an easy one in mind with Cthulhu Porn, but it proved quite challenging to find such a thing. To me, the funniest part of this one is when Crom spots the dude from The Iron Chef in a picture hanging above the bed with the Cthulhu/octopus creature getting it on with some other kind of monster. As always, remember to turn off the music player on the right panel so that you can hear our retarded analysis.






For Dr. Ken's search, he goes with Werewolf porn. The first video we found was just a really hairy guy with some fangs doing it. That's just lazy on the production value and not a convincing werewolf, so we couldn't count that one. It is cute that Dr. Ken cleans up a video's description by saying "getting her p-word f'd." The next video we found was the real deal: real live werewolf screwing. That brought us to 5 out of 6, but somehow our numbers at the time were off. Give us a break; we were drinking at the time.

Rule #34 Part 2: Making Time With Furniture and Horny Robots

Rule #34: Generally accepted internet rule that states that pornography or sexually related material exists for any conceivable subject (from urbandictionary.com).

The next two searches to look into the legitimacy of Rule #34 (see previous post for an explanation) proved just as fun as the first, but we came out of Google search number four with one loss, batting three for four. Remember to turn off the music player to the right before playing the tracks. Enjoy!

First off, Crom wanted to see what was out there in the way of "furniture f'ing." We were losing hope, but then Dr. Ken modified the search and came up with a young Asian woman in a room doing a broom, a chair, and apparently later a piano, somehow. We clicked away in the interest of time after the chair, but I'm a little curious to know how she got freaky with the piano and if she played a song with her . . .


Listen to track one here:


Next, Dr. Ken was curious to see if there was any porno out there with one of his childhood heroes, Transformer leader of the Autobots, Optimus Prime. Turns out, we were only able to find a Family Guy clip of him doing it, but Dr. Ken was hoping more for a live action clip of a guy with a costume, even if it was homemade, getting it on. We had to count this as a loss. It was our first taste of defeat, and sadly, it wouldn't be our last . . .

Listen to track 2 here:


What do you think so far, Seven Readers? Remember, after I post all ten clips, I will post a downloadable MP3 of the whole thing so that you can listen to this goofy crap on the train or in the car or wherever you like to listen to weird stuff like this.

Rule #34, Part One

With the first podcast on The Gancer, Crom and myself made each other laugh, so we're going to call that a success. We hope you enjoy our experiment of putting Rule #34 to the test; the rule that states that just about anything you can think of, there is a porno about it somewhere on the sick, sick internet. I'm going to post a couple searches at a time for a total of ten (we made it ten to make our percentages nice and easy). First off, give a listen to our introduction describing this wonderful rule and then us trying out Crom's search for Care Bear Porn. As always, be sure to turn off the music player on the right panel of my blog before hitting play on the MP3's. Enjoy!

Next up, Dr. Ken tries his hand at this rule with "snot porn" coming to his head for some unknown awful reason. This one grossed us both out more than a little, but we forged ahead! We're scientists, after all.







Be sure to tune in for the next two searches, as they're just as wonderfully random and strange as the first two. Yes, things got even stranger after Care Bears and snot . . .

Podcasts

I used to do fun podcasts when I was in a comedy group a couple of years back. It was one of the things I really enjoyed. My buddy, we'll call him Crom, was in the group with me too, and tonight he's coming over to do a quick podcast before we go out to the bars. The problem is, we don't really have a topic, but sometimes those are the best ones. We'll just let it happen organically with some bottles of Budweiser.

Don't you hate your voice on tape? Mine sounds so damned deep for some reason, and not in a sexy way like Barry White. Sometimes I have a thick Chicago accent, not as thick as Crom's though. Other times I sound like a gay surfer or something. If I always sound different, does that mean I'm unsure of myself?

Anyway, I'll post it here on The Gancer for your enjoyment. Anyone have any good topic ideas? Hurry up because Crom is on his way now . . .

I was walking near Lincoln Park in Chicago at around 11pm on a Wednesday with a special lady friend, and we saw a man coming out of the 7-Eleven with a newly purchased cup of coffee; he was talking, no, preaching to himself as he was walking. My ladyfriend seemed scared, but I reassured her that we'd be okay, as I know this guy to be totally harmless. Yes, he preaches insane messages that actually sound a little interesting, but while he talks loud enough to draw a crowd, he never looks anyone dead in the face, so there's no fear that he will try to lure you back to his poisoned Kool-Aid fun house of horrors. He appears to be around 50-years-old, and his long graying blond hair flows in the Chicago winds as he preaches to no one in particular. What's great too is that he never asks for money; he just wants to be heard, or not. Maybe he doesn't want to be heard because then he'd look you in the eye, but thank God he doesn't because I don't like when crazies look me directly in the eyes.

Now, there is a guy downtown who appears to be a Nation of Islam type black fella with a bow tie and a microphone, and I don't care for him as much because he just tells me all the things that will make me go to hell, such as homosexuality and cigarettes (luckily I've only dabbled with one of those). He was mentioned years ago in my old Chicago blogging crew, The Liars Club, in our 15 Chicagoans You Shouldn't Know post. Blond preacher guy kind of looks like Edgar Winter, he always preaches while he walks, never stopping with the walking or preaching, it seems, and his rants sound like they'd be kind of engaging if I was on his level of caffeine and schizophrenia.

Actually, the next time I see this guy, I'm going to initiate some eye contact, buy him a coffee, and see what he's all about. What's the worst that can happen? Nah. I'll just keep looking away. It's just easier and safer than taking on a nut-job project like that. Screw it.

And now I bring you, me making fun of the first few Facebook updates of my "friends" on Facebook who I'm pretty sure will never read this blog. That's really terrible to do to people who are my "friends," but I can't think of anything to write about, so here goes . . .

1. "Ohhhhmygoodness just 2 more weeks of night class, I Can NOT wait! No more missing Gossip Girl & 90210! Lol ;)"
4 minutes ago

I guess some of them I don't need to make fun of; I can just put it out there like that. Geez, this is mean because she's a nice girl; just bad taste in television. Okay, let's try another . . .

2. "Should I have a beer or not????"
6 minutes ago

Well, considering I worked with this woman, and there was more than one occassion where she went to company parties and didn't show the next day, I'd say NO! That's not a bad thing, but sometimes calling out last minute could really screw us at that job, and when we all know it's because of a hangover, that's annoying. To be fair, we all did our job hungover at least a few days a week back then. Suck it up! As for my advice to her if I cared to comment, I'd actually say go ahead and have one, but don't let it turn into 10 and call out tomorrow, screwing over your coworkers. Should I comment that? Nah, I'll just silently bash her on my blog that nobody reads.

3. "when u gotta good thing dont take it for granted...cause there is always someone else that wont take it for granted..u just may loose it..AND I PROMISE U WILL REGRET it...so cherish and love it like there is nothing else like it..EVERYDAY!"
About an hour ago

This is a person who posts about nine times a day, and it's either motivational crappola like this, which was actually kind of confusing, or it's random updates about her life, especially her workouts. Do I give a fiddler's fuck if you shredded your abs one day or did shoulders on another? Who in the hell cares, lady!? Surprisingly, she gets around 30 comments per update, so someone actually wastes their own lives reading and responding to that sort of thing. I don't comment myself, but I do take time out of my day to rip on her on my blog like an asshole, even poking fun at her spelling (it's lose not loose). I should be shot for this, but I just have to get through two more to make it a top five . . .

4. i CAN NOT win...i tell ya~geesh! life: y dont u add on more frusteration..
8 hours ago

Okay, that's the same person as number three. I feel bad making fun of a second one, but come on! You know, it does put a squiggly line under a word when it's spelled wrong, so you can take the extra time to try a few spellings until it goes away. Lord knows you have the time if you're updating 9 times a day. Sorry, but that sort of thing just causes me a world of "frusteration."

5. Puppy training, day #1 went well!
4 minutes ago

I found a lot of updates more stupid than this one, but I was having a hard time finding more people that I wouldn't feel bad talking about. This asshole, I have no problem talking about because all he does is stab people in the back and talk smack. I'd really like to drop him as a friend on Facebook because he's the kind of butthole to use something against you for no reason at all - he does stuff like that all the time. It's a good thing I have been behaving with my updates, keeping them about mundane things like the last one - how hard it is to hit the skip button when Hall and Oats comes on. Actually, that's kind of a lame one. I'd probably make fun of me too.

What do you think, Seven Readers? Was this the meanest most petty post I've ever done, or is this something that should be done for the good of mankind?

Symphony, Tuerette's, and Fart Music

I went to the symphony the other night, and I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. There really is no substitute for seeing that type of music live because as you see each group of instruments playing, you can hear it coming from those various places, so it really is an incredible sensory experience. It makes me wonder just how in the hell someone could write all that, thinking who would be playing what. Also, seeing that makes me feel like an idiot for being such a fan of rock music, but I know it's only rock and roll - but I like it. Like it. Yes I do.

I was with a lady friend, and we were trying not to stop laughing at an old and fat trombone player who appeared to take naps in between his sections, slumped in his chair with his eyes closed. Ladyfriend was saying that perhaps he is a narcoleptic, and it would be even more fun had he had Tuerette's Syndrome. I'm thinking even better to have a Tuerette's conductor, blurting out "cocksucker, shit . . . tit!" That would not be too classy.

Speaking of which, when I went to take a pee, a guy was blasting out epic splattery diarrhea farts in one of the stalls, and I was thinking that wasn't a classy maneuver either. It sounded like a b flat, perhaps from a bassoon. An orchestra of farting would be so awesome because it would add smell into the whole sensory experience I spoke of earlier. Maybe I'm nut cut out for a life of "culture . . ."

The Iron Sheik

The best things about this clip of 1980's professional wrestler, The Iron Sheik, going bananas in order of their occurrences in this clip are . . . (and don't forget to turn off the music player on the right before hitting play)

1. His rapid mood change of nostalgia and happiness to outright disgust and contempt when the name of The Killer Bee's tag team member, Brian Blair, comes to his mind.

2.Sheik accidentally saying that Blair is a "fag" worse than Michael Jordan, but then immediately correcting himself to say "Michael Jackson." I must say, I was thrown at first at his mention of Jordan.

3. He comes out of his scowl to give respect to the other member of the Bee's, "Jumpin" Jim Brunzell, especially for being a good high jumper, but then the scowl returns as the subject comes back to Blair - and again, he is said to be a bigger "fag" than The King of Pop.



4. I like the process of breaking a man's back, making him humble, and then fucking his ass. It seems to conflict with his views on homosexuality, but we won't question the Sheik's methods.

5. He then says that he would have engaged in that whole ordeal mentioned in number four of this list, but he had too much respect for his "sport" and for his boss, Vince McMahon. But, had it not been for that, he would have done the ass fucking, part of the "old country way," but this time the steps are a little different. Now, he says he would first suplex him, then put him in the camel clutch - breaking his back, then fuck his ass, and then make him humble.

6. Now he says that he wouldn't do all of this because of God, Jesus, Mr. McMahon. But, again, for the third time, he says that Blair out-fags Michael Jackson, and he would have gladly, also for the third time, done some back breaking, ass fucking, and humble-making.

7. Now he says that he's worse than Hulk Hogan. It seems like everyone hated Hogan because he was a crappy wrestler with limited skills, but in spite of that, moved up the ranks strictly based on his showmanship. But, did he mean worse in that sense or in the gay sense? That's what's unclear here, Iron Sheik.

8. Besides all of the urges to break backs and sodomize someone, "everything was great." Love that ending! Thank you, Sheik!

Dr. Bill

I met a guy named Doctor Bill last night at a fundraiser, and he sucked. Actually, Bill wasn't his real name, but it was Doctor and then his first name- and that's how he introduces himself and others introduce him to others. Again, he sucks.

The doctor was introduced to me by a ladyfriend who's friend organized the fundraiser. This friend actually brought this nimrod from across the bar, and said, "Have you two met Dr. Bill?" Now, the ladyfriend and I are new in our relationship, where talking to each other is still very exciting, and getting stuck with this d-bag was not a place we wanted anything to do with. Let me just tell you, oh my seven readers, this butthole just talked and talked without taking a breath, and let me just tell you about what he looked like.

He was a man of around 5'6" in height, he had a big belly, a shirt and tie with his pants jacked up above his navel and his cell phone fastened to his belt (I hate that move). I think I asked him what he did for a living, and then he pretty much talked "at" us for the next half hour. He is a, and I'm going to change the name of this too, Meccaphysiologist, and he believes that we can control the universe, kind of like Obi-Wan Kenobi in Star Wars. Because he finds that most anyone would agree that the universe was created by something we can't fully understand through science, and because things in the world like the atom are perfect - not accidental but designed a certain way, he thinks that nothing in the world is coincidence. He goes as far as to say that every time you hope someone will call you on the phone, and then they do, that you actually willed them to call. He then told two very boring stories about needing people to call him because he didn't have their number, so he'd say, "Jill, call me. Jill, call me" for around 5 minutes, and they called! Wow! Is that how he meets women? He does Jedi mind tricks on them? He was chatting some up later . . .

I asked him if he thought that maybe I had an impact on the Northwestern VS Michigan State game because right when I turned the game on, The Wildcats stopped doing anything right. This happens to me a lot, so I asked if maybe I'm a jinks. He could not confirm or deny that, but he did say that if I live my life thinking things like I'm a jinks, then it will be more likely to come true. That's kind of true, actually . . .

Ladyfriend does not have the patience, poker face, active listening skills, or general interest in weirdos that I possess, so he was distancing himself from her and zeroing in on me. Right when I thought he might invite me to a seminar or throw me into the back of an unmarked van, I said, "You know, Dr. Bill, I think I might mosey on over to the other end of the room and try out some of those meatballs I've been hearing about." Ladyfriend met me over by the meatballs, and we both fell out laughing. I still plan on paying back her friend for sticking us with that odd duck, but at least I got a blog post out of it.

How about you all, Seven Readers? Can you tell us about a time you got caught talking to someone God awful?

Set Ups

When you're single and people think you're not a psycho and a decent human, women are wanting to set you up with their friends all the time. This usually isn't good because it makes you feel like you're going to disappoint someone if you don't hit it off with the friend.

So, the other day we're having lunch at work, and one of my coworkers says she has the perfect girl for me. Luckily, my good friend was on the scene with some valuable information, and he said, "You try to set her up with everyone, so what's wrong with her? Is she desperate? Plus, she's not that great looking. I've been out with Dr. Ken, and he gets tens.*" Then the female coworker countered with, "She is, too, pretty. I mean, Dr. Ken, you're not going to hear "Who's That Lady?" when she walks in the room."

But I want to hear "Who's That Lady"; that's just it.

--------------------------------------------------------

*I don't get tens. Plus, I don't want to date tens because really, really hot women have Hot Girl Entitlement Issues (HGETs), they have a warped sense of reality because everyone treats them extra nice their whole lives, and they're hit on all the time, so you're fighting off every penis in the room with a stick. But, I'm a little ashamed to admit that I like that feeling of walking into a room with the prettiest girl under my arm, and it's nice to be loved by a beautiful woman as opposed to a so-so one. Let's face it: I'm dying alone.

Amigo

I need to stop calling every kid at work "amigo" when I don't know his/her name - especially the Hispanic ones.

Darling Vicki

I was briefly dating someone a few weeks ago, before doing the classic, classless Dr. Ken phase out, and at the time, I was helping her brainstorm for costumes. I actually think I nailed the perfect getup for her. Because she is about 5'1", and she sort of looks like a little girl in that regard, I thought she should dress up as Vicki the suburban robot girl built by her father, disguised as a regular girl, despite talking just like a robot, from the God awful 1980's sitcom, "Small Wonder." Only here is the twist: a slutty version, since that is the common twist in Chicago and probably everywhere else.

I thought that Darling Vicki would be the perfect name for this costume since Prince had a song in the 80's called "Darling Nicki" that got on Tipper Gore and her Parent Music Resource Center's list for dirtiest songs, probably because Prince's Nikki was known to "grind" and masturbate to magazines.

So, the outfit would essentially be the red and white plaid Bob Evans dress, only cut down in slutty places, and then a panel in the back where you can open her up and fiddle with her robot parts.

I guess since the subjects of this costume are both very 1980's, it's not very topical in this day and age. I suppose that's why I'm also the type of guy to dress as Johnny Lawrence, the bad guy from Karate Kid, portrayed by William Zabka, the a-hole in just about every movie back then. However, not only do I have a pimped out Cobra Kai gee to wear, but I'm going to grow my naturally blond hair out in the next couple weeks so I can have that piss poor feathered look. I'm not likely to be very attractive in the 2000's with that kind of hair, but it's just too funny not to try to pull that look off.

What are you going to be for Halloween, Seven Readers, or do you have some good ideas to throw out there to the community (of seven readers)?

Can a Boob Lover Change His Ways?

Gosh, I hope so. I'm not a boob man by choice; I inherited it. My dad is the only bigger fan of mammarian protuberances than myself that I know. I really do think that it's been a lifelong thing for me, ever since my first uncomfortable woody that came at the hands of some big booby girl on "The Benny Hill Show." I was sitting on the carpet watching with the family, and I remember being scared that something was wrong with me, and I had to get up and leave the room with an awkward gait, pushing my little (at the time) business downward. Damn you, Benny and your fast motion boob women and the little old guy patting everyone on their heads! And damn you boobs in general!



I don't want to like them so much. I really don't. My brain knows that they're nothing more than fleshy mounds of fat, so in the grand scheme of things, they shouldn't be a deciding factor in how I choose my mate. Sense of humor, intelligence, a good conversationalist, and being a good human being are way higher on my list, but when I come face-to-face (or face to nipple(s)) with a nice set, the whole organizational chart of my criteria shifts dramatically. And that's just wrong, right?

I even try to literally ween myself off of them, tricking my brain by watching . . . movies of women with not so big "thingies," but I always end up . . . finishing up with some buxom, coked up "actress." Again I say damn you, titty women! I don't want to like you anymore. Your giant chests cloud my judgment and throw my priorities all out of whack. I want to meet the woman who stimulates my mind and makes me laugh every day, not just a woman who fills out a sweater really well. I'd like to say I could get both in one, but we all know that's a pipe dream; just isn't happening. That's like chasing the "white whale."

How about you, Seven Readers? Do you like something in a mate that you wish you didn't?

I Wear a Custom Fitted Mouth Guard At Night . . .

. . . because I grind my teeth in my sleep. Maybe that means I'm stressed out, tense, nervous, or just a plain freak. All I do know is that if I don't wear it, I wake up with my whole jaw hurting.

It's not the kind that looks like a football mouth guard; rather, it's a hard plastic impression of my front two teeth. Now, there's a bump that I can feel pointing towards my mouth, and there have been a couple of times where I have woke up to myself tonguing that little ridge - and the dreams have been about licking a woman's excited, ummmmm . . . bump.

I've only had this happen a few times. In some instances I've woke up to a morning Woodrow Wilson, in others the dream has involved the "bump" of someone I really shouldn't be thinking about, and in some cases both.

It's good that I have this safe place to share this sort of thing, as I haven't relayed this bit of information to anyone else. I can trust the seven of you with weird, perverted stuff like this, right?

Anyone have any dirty dreams they want to tell us about so I'm not the only one putting it out there?

Scene:

Jackson and Maya run in the same social circle and have been falling in love with one another over the past few months, and at this point, they have always stopped themselves at kissing. The only problem is, Maya is engaged to another man. The two have agreed to back off from one another until she has figured her situation out, as she says she's not being fair to all three people - something Jackson agrees with, but on this night, in a crowded bar, after numerous drinks, he just couldn't take it anymore.

The two keep sharing glances that alternate between smiles, looks of desperation, and looks of outright sadness. Suddenly, Jackson plays off like he's walking past her to go to the bathroom, but instead, he takes her hand, and leads her to a corner of the bar where they can talk. Granted, it's still loud from the music, but there is slightly less screaming and lousy singing there from the clientele.

Maya: Jackson, I can't.

Jackson: No, don't worry because I didn't pull you over to plant a kiss on you, although I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thinking of it all night.

Maya: Yeah, me too, but . . .

Jackson: Well, don't worry about it because I'm a man of my word. Yes, I think this guy is a tremendous asshole, and an asshole that seems unwilling to change, and the brand of asshole destined to make you miserable - but here's the thing: I said I would "back off," and I am. I just want to know a few things because I can't just move on until this thing is settled. I can't go on thinking "what if."

Maya: Okay, what do you need to know.

Jackson: I have been thinking that maybe we've been idealizing each other because of our respective situations - because we know we can't go through with it. But, maybe we'd never work out to begin with. Maybe there is a big fat deal breaker that we haven't even thought of. For instance, when one person is a lousy kisser, everyone knows a suck-ass kisser is game over, but that's not a problem for us. In fact, that seemed pretty damn incredible on this end . . .

Maya: Yes. No problems there.

Jackson: Right . . . So, I thought of a few others that might spell disaster, and that way I can move on.

Jackson unfolds a crumpled up piece of paper that he has to stand awkwardly to pry out of his jeans pocket.

Maya: I guess you have given this some thought.

Jackson: Yes. I think about you all the damn time. I have "backed off" really effectively, per your request, and I've been all business around you, so you can't even tell, but you're on my mind constantly. You're absolutely killing me.

Maya: Yeah. I think about you too, but . . .

(Brief pause)

Jackson: So, number one, are you like a die hard Republican? It's not a subject that ever came up, but if you have extremely right-thinking politics, like you hate homosexuals or certain ethnicities, that would gross me out to no end.

Maya: (Laughs) No. I'd say I'm pretty liberal, Jackson, so that's out. What else ya' got?

Jackson: Damn it! Next up, where do you stand on religion because I'm an agnostic bordering on atheist, and it's highly unlikely that I'll ever "find God," so if you're looking for a religious guy, that's just not happening.

Maya: I think we have talked about this, and I'm pretty sure I told you that I was raised Catholic, God's a part of my life, but I don't go to church to talk to him.

Jackson: Aha! But would it bother you if the person you're with for the rest of your life is a non believer, and would you raise your kids Catholic?

Maya: No and no.

Jackson: Well, shit and shit!! Next up . . .

Maya: Stop right there. I completely get what you're doing, but I don't think finding one of these deal breakers is going to help you with whatever you're going through here.

Jackson: Well, how do you know? And don't say it's just me going through it because we know that's not true. Now, come on, I only have eleven more.

Maya: No, I'm not doing this anymore.

(Maya starts to leave and Jackson jumps in front of her)

Jackson: Wait, first off, you're saying you get why I'm doing this, but I'm not sure you do. I'm in love with you, and I can't keep seeing you and not tell you this. The reason I want to find a way that we can't possibly work is because I can't move on until I figure out you and I. I'm dating women, and I can't stand any of them because none of them are you. I'm trying with them. I'm sleeping with them, and that makes me feel even worse because my heart's never in it. My heart's with you. Okay, that sounded gay, but . . . I don't know, Maya - I just feel something, and I, like, never feel anything, and that has to mean something, right?

To be continued? Maybe, but that's all I have written right now.

Dr. Ken's Syllogisms

Listening to jazz makes me feel smart.

Drinking wine makes me feel smart.

Listening to country makes me feel dumb.

Drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon makes me feel dumb.

Therefore:

Listening to jazz while drinking wine makes me feel mega-smart, like a guy who gets New Yorker cartoons.

Listening to country while drinking PBR makes me feel dumber than in an inbred, fetal alcohol, nitwit.

Listening to jazz while drinking PBR makes me feel confused, like a bisexual sitting in front of 100 gig of mixed bag porn.

Listening to country while drinking wine makes me feel semi-classy, like a guy wearing his Members Only jacket to the symphony.

How do you feel about all of this, Seven Readers?

What is your go-to karaoke song?

I usually would go with "Cold As Ice" by Foreigner, but I got really sick of it.

Last night, a coworker and myself fricking KILLED "Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong" by Joe Cocker and whoever that chick was. Tonight I think I'm going to try "Suffragette City" by Bowie. The birthday girl, a friend of one of Dr. Ken's "special lady friends," is planning on doing Neil Young's "Rockin' in the Free World."

Which song do you hate to hear people do?

This one is a tie between anything from "Grease" and "Bohemian Rhapsody." The latter is a song I rather like, but not when people try to sing it because A) It's really long B) They usually do it crappy, and C) There are like 15 Freddy Mercury's layered on that track, so how in the hell do they think they can pull it off? Downright irritating.

Caption Contest Number Around 5

Okay, do your worst. I have no idea what's going on here, but I love that look on that sucka's face!

This Morning, Merle Haggard's "Momma Cried" Came on My iPod . . .

. . . and I thought of a regular male barfly at a bar I used to go to every few weekends called Carol's Pub in the far North side of Chicago, an all night country bar, which at the time, had live country music with no cover. We used to go there if we had struck out with the ladies at the 2AM establishments.

It was great back then because you could sit down at a table, order up a pitcher of Busch light (we had iron clad stomachs back then) and dance with mostly sub par but sometimes diamond in the rough girls. The beauty of it is, you really didn't have to know how to dance! I mean, if you did, that's a plus, but mostly if you just twirl them around a few times, and show them a good time, sometimes you could twirl them right out the door! I know, that sounds sleazy, but I'm getting back into single Dr. Ken phase here . . .

So there was this guy who would always go there alone, always had on a stocking hat, was of an age around thirty, I'd say, with a trustworthy face, and there was a time that he was telling myself an Heterosexual Life Partner (HLP) how he wanted to hear "Momma Cried" by Merle Haggard because it was one of the only songs that would make him cry. I believe he would be brought to tears because he seemed like a bit of a loser, so I'm sure he could relate to a song about disappointing his mother, but I will say he was a lovable loser. HLP and I often like to recall the time that he was dancing out there by his lonesome and said to the two of us, "Are you gonna' come out here and waggle with me?" When do you hear the word waggle outside of calling plays on John Madden Football on your Sega Genesis game system?



How about you, seven readers? Do you have a favorite bar fly? If not, which song makes you cry?

"I Watched Some of "Teen Wolf Too" the Other Day . . .

. . . and boy is it ever craptastic. I mean, at least "Revenge of the Nerds 2: Nerds in Paradise" (1987) had a couple of good moments, but this thing is just rotten. Granted, the first one was not likely to win any awards, but I'd say that the most clever thing in the entire sequel is using the word "too" instead of "two," and that's barely smart. Here are the worst things about this steaming pile of crud movie:

1. Justin Bateman just isn't as likable as Michael J. Fox. It's not all his fault. I mean, the script sucks, and I think the budget wasn't as good because his makeup for the wolf just looks creepy and cheap. Fox's wolf was charming, and Bateman's is ugly and just looks like a crappy Halloween costume.

2. Instead of basketball, this wolf's sport is boxing. Now, the thing that always bothered me about a kid turning into a werewolf and dominating high school basketball, is that there was no press coming to these games. There were literally like 25 kids at these games with risers that were no more than five rows deep. Wouldn't that be a national news story - Someone turning into a fictional lycanthrope beast and dunking in games? Okay, well, let's just say that maybe we will allow this werewolf to play basketball. Sure. But boxing? That thing's going to kill someone in that ring! If that were my kid off at college getting mauled by a werewolf in that ring, I'd be pissed, right?

3. They couldn't get Michael J. Fox back, but they did get the guy who played Chubby in the first film, the poor kid who looked so pasty and fat in that basketball jersey and clearly had no athletic ability. While they got him, they couldn't get the original "Stiles," - the guy who encouraged Fox's character to play the most reckless dangerous game of all time: Car surfing. As if standing on a van during hair pin turns isn't dangerous enough, but the wolf would turn back flips up there. Anyway, new "Stiles" looks kind of like Boner from "Growing Pains," only he has maybe the longest mullet of the 80's for a guy not in Kajagoogoo.

That's all I got for now. What do you think is one of the crummiest sequels of all time?