Your Own Cabby

A few years back, I had a my very own cab driver named Moe, and people thought that it was strange. Actually, it was quite handy because he was able to pick me up wherever I was in the city. In fact, one time he even gave me passes to a nudey bar. I didn't use them, but I thought it very nice of him. Another time I convinced him to come in for a drink with me. There was a girl there who just about everyone who was watching told me that she really seemed to be digging on me, but I was more intent on making sure Moe was having a good time. Oh well . . .

Now my guy's name is Romeo, which is great because when I'm waiting for him, I can say "Romeo, Romeo. Where for art though, Romeo?" So far he hasn't let me down.

So, next time you have a cool cab driver, ask if you can take down his number. They usually appreciate the business, and you might even get a nudey pass out of the deal.

Mooj's Pop Quiz

I came across this extended scene from 40-Year-Old Virgin with tons more gross crap in Mooj's speech. So, okay, Seven Readers, how many things that Mooj mentions do you know? If you have a minute, look one or two up on Urban Dictionary and post the definition in the comments. I know I had to look up Alligator Fuck House and Pussy Cocktail Juice . . .

Caption Contest Part 3 or 4

It's time, once again, for a caption contest because I'm tired after a long work week, and I don't feel like writing tonight. Here it is. Do your worst . . .

I Always Thought Some of Chicago's Nicer Suburbs Were Safe and Nice . . .

. . . until I heard these two stories on the radio this morning:

1. In one affluent suburb, the lower torso and legs of an unidentified white man was found in a garbage bag in the trash bin of an apartment building, a killing which is perhaps linked to a drug ring that was involved in getting cocaine into the suburbs for the last ten years.

Editorial: How lazy to just throw your torsos and legs in the trash with your pizza boxes and the rest of your garbage! They got lazy killers out there in the burbs!



2. And in another suburb, a Chuck E. Cheese failed their second alcohol to minors test in just over a years time when teenage agents presented their actual ID's, ones saying "under 21" right across them, were served liquor.


Editorial: I know that the staff is just trying to help because that place can be full of loud obnoxious kids and lights and noises - a beer can really take the edge off - but at least look to see if the damn ID is blue, especially after already getting busted once! Jeez! Is the guy in the mouse suit blindly handing out beers to toddlers? Sounds . . . awesome!!

I Heard "I'll Be There For You" By Bon Jovi This Morning . . .

. . . and I immediately thought about slow dancing with a 12-year-old girl dressed like a hooker. Hold on! Before you check my ip address and arrest me, please let me explain.

When I was in the fifth grade, a girl, we'll call her Trixie, moved to our district midway through the school year, and I remember the day she came because her mom walked her in, she looked nervous, and Trixie was dressed like a hooker.* Not your standard hooker, mind you, but like a gypsy hooker - as if Stevie Nix was turning tricks instead of rocking arenas to pay for her coke habit. I'm not saying these clothes were just too slutty for her age because girls today do that a lot with stores like Forever 21. This was far, far worse because they were really cheap looking garbs - the exact types of things hookers wear.

I remember sitting at lunch one day, and the 6th graders at the next table were asking her what her going rate was, the name of her pimp, things like that, and she went to the principal and named names - luckily I wasn't on that list. I wouldn't be surprised if I found myself joining in on teasing like that because I was a bit of a follower in those days, but truth be told, I had a bit of a secret crush on her.

I had a friend at the time who was that boy who all the girls liked. I remember being over at his house playing Nintendo, and the phone would be ringing off the hook with girls, and he would say to me, "Here, talk to this chick. They call all the time. It's so annoying!" Anyway, when this friend admitted that he had a secret crush on Trixie, we all razzed him so bad about it that he never mentioned it again let alone ask her out. I, of course, kept my crush private, but to my credit, I think I was the only one to come to his defense about liking her.

She was pretty, and she had a beauty mark just like Madonna when Madonna was still very young and hot - this was long before Cindy Crawford. Despite being very pretty, between the way too "advanced" clothing and maturing faster physically than the rest of us, she just seemed much older. This is why when I was slow dancing with her to Bon Jovi's "I'll Be There For You," she just felt 3 grades older than me. I remember having good feelings about it, but I had no thoughts of maybe she could be my girlfriend, or maybe she likes me (she liked the kid I mentioned in the last paragraph) - it just felt good.

What do you think about all of this, Seven Readers? Have you ever had a secret crush when you were young? ______________________________________________________________

*I wish I could remember what mom looked like because that might explain her wardrobe choices, but I just can't recall . . .

Rump Roast

A friend of a friend was on his way to the bar, and he texted "I"m almost there. Have a shot of Rumplemintz waiting for me at the bar." To me, that's like preordering your nausea, but to each his own. This made me jot down an idea into the memo thingy on my phone: "A shot called the Rump Roast." It seemed way more funny to me at the time, but I don't have anything else to post today, so screw it.

What would be entailed in a shot like that? Maybe it's warmed up (roasted) in the microwave? I'm just not sure. What do you all, my seven readers and alchemists, think would be the ingredients and procedures for making the Rump Roast shot?

Rock You Like a Proverbial Hurricane

My interview with Matthias Jabs, guitar player from The Scorpions, who are embarking on their final tour ever, went live. Check it out to hear what Dr. Ken sounds like for those of you who haven't had the pleasure/annoyance.

I love writing, I love rock music, and I love discussing the rock, so it stands to reason that I was rather pumped about this opportunity. Hope you enjoy it . . .

CLICK HERE TO GET ROCKED LIKE A PROVERBIAL HURRICANE.

Also, I interviewed a female mixed martial arts fighter who is a really nice gal, mother of two, and she can whip some ass. Check that out here.

Keith Stone

I just saw this commercial for Keystone Light, and I don't think I've ever seen a commercial for this beer. Come to think of it, I don't think there is a regular Keystone, is there? Kind of like Amstel Light . . .

Anyway, have a look at their new spokesman, Keith Stone. His name sounds like the beer, he's "always smooth," and what's great is that he looks like a guy who would drink Keystone Light. Have a look . . .



I'm Dr. Kenneth Noisewater, and I support this message.

Big Fat Hen?

A remake of Nightmare on Elm Street is coming out, and I remember how I got freaked out when the little kids would sing . . .

One, two, Freddy's coming for you
Three, four, better lock your door
Five, six, grab your crucifix
Seven, eight, gonna stay up late
Nine, ten, never sleep again.

This, of course, is based on the famous nursery rhyme:

One, two, buckle my shoe
Three, four, knock at the door
Five, six, pick up sticks
Seven, eight, lay them straight
Nine, ten, a big fat hen

I looked up this song, found that it dates back to the early 1800's, but there is no known explanation of the lyrics. It seems to me that it's a series of requests for someone to do stuff, and then they throw in that last line about the hen out of nowhere. Let's pretend for a moment Dr. Ken was there in the 1800's . . .

English Bloke: One two buckle my shoe.
Ken: Sure. I guess.
EB: Three, four, knock at the door
Ken: Okay, I'm on it, but you don't have to count like that. I'll hook you up.
EB: Five, six, pick up sticks
Ken: Wait, I haven't even got to the door yet. Do you want me to get the sticks before I knock or after? Am I giving this person sticks or can that wait?
EB: Nine, ten, a big fat hen
Ken: Do you want me to find a big fat hen and give it to whoever is in that house, or are you calling me a big fat hen? Either way, you got some big British balls saying some shit like that after I've done all this random crap for you. If I do find a hen at this hour, I'll gladly give it to the guy in the house, but not before I stuff it up your ass like a turducken!

Baby Wipes

In parts of Europe, Latin America , East Asia, and the Middle East, people use the bidet to freshen up their anus and genital areas after using the toilet. For those of you who don't know, this is the little sink thing that you squat over, and it sprays water down there - and some have a built in dryer! Here in the United States of America, which is supposed to be among the most advanced and powerful nations in the world, we primarily just use the toilet paper, leaving our butts less than fresh all day long until we can get in the shower for a proper cleaning. It's hard to take us seriously at the United Nations when we have the dirtiest asses in the room.

Because Dr. Ken* lives in the states, and he likes his rear end to be nice and fresh all day long to avoid discomfort and a feeling of general grossness, he uses baby wipes every time he poops at home. What's weird is that they say not to flush them, but there's no way I'm dropping those in the trash cans.** Gross! I guess I could buy one of those diaper genies you get for babies, but that's just weird. I suppose I could just keep it, and when I have kids, Ken Jr. and I could just share wipes and diaper genies . . .

On the package of my current wipes (I buy whatever is on sale because I'm frugal like that), it says "great for babies!" Now, I think that us Adult Baby Wipers need to come forward and admit to using them. So, I think, and let me know if I'm alone here, that it should read, "Great for babies, but they also come in handy for adult swamp ass***!"

Okay, seven readers, do you use the baby wipes, the bidet, just straight up toilet tissue, or do you have some cool trick of your own you would like to share to help all my readers maintain a cleaner tuchus?

_______________________________________
*No, this is not Dr. Ken in the picture. It's just some funny guy I found when looking for the bidet on google images. Whoever he is, he should feel proud that his mug pops up as the third picture when someone searches for the bidet on there.
**I realize that I switched from third person to first here, but I'm just not a third person guy. I started to feel like Dennis Rodman.
***or swass if you prefer. See definition two if you follow the link.
****And the winner of last post's caption contest is Beck Eye. She is one of the best bloggers I know, which why she is first on my blogroll. Actually, it's alphabetical, but she is really good. She posts a very in depth analysis of American Idol just after it airs, and she has caption contests of her own, only on a bigger scale because she has more readership than the doctor - think Dr. Ken around three years ago. Anyway, check her out if you haven't already because she's super-duper!

Caption Contest

It is time, once again, for yet another caption contest, so give us your best for this one, and I'll reward you by telling everyone how wonderful you and your blog are. Oh, and let's try not to have them all have to do with their race, shall we?

Scorps

The other day, I interviewed Matthias Jabs from the German rock band, The Scorpions, and as good as I'm getting at conducting interesting interviews with mixed martial arts fighters, it is clear that my passion for rock music lends itself much better to an opportunity such as this.

My first goal was making sure I was saying his name right. One would thing it would be pronounced "Muhthius" and "Jabs," as in, he through a lot of JABS in the third round. It turns out, it's pronounced Muhtius Yaabs. I was panicking for a pronunciation on youtube because all I could find were clips of virtuoso solos of his. Finally, I found a video of a DJ saying his name, asking him if it was right, and him saying that she did it perfectly. So, I said it just as she had, and he said the way I did it was "absolutely perfect." This guy was so polite, humble, likable, and just as engaged and as excited as I was.

It turns out this is the final tour for The Scorps. He actually points out that as a hard rock band, it makes even more sense to hang it up early because they pride themselves in rocking arenas, running around the huge stage, and that's just not something they believe they should be doing in their 50's.

I'm really pleased with how this thing turned out, so when I post it over at Starpulse.com, please give a listen to some snippets.

Thanks, and keep on rockin' like hurricanes, Seven Readers.

FTGG

Gancey Girlfriend's 16-year-old little sister was just here in Chicago for the weekend from Iowa, and for whatever reason, she really wanted to see a ghetto. Had I been driving, I would have been glad to take her over to some choice neighborhoods to see how the lower half lives, as cruel of an activity as that is, but since we were on foot, the best I could do for her amusement of city life was to point out a fat man dressed as a woman, only a Geisha Girl with a fan and those chopstick things in "her" hair.

You don't see Fat Tranny Geisha Girls (FTGG) in Iowa, so I guess that was better than nothing.

Die Some Eggs. Drop Some Acid.

An amazing accomplishment happened on June 12, 1970 when Dock Ellis pitched a no hitter on acid. Get a look at this terrific cartoon with an actual interview of Dock.



Also, have a look at Robin Williams describing just why it's really not easy to do much of anything on acid, let alone pitch nine no-hit innings. Whether you like Robin or not, he is the perfect comedian to explain the importance of this accomplishment.



Dock Ellis spent a lot of his life drinking and doing drugs, then he became a drug counselor after becoming sober, but unfortunately, in 2008 he died of cirrhosis of the liver.

To Doc and Jesus.

Pour out a little liquor for Dock.

It's Funny To Me, Damn It!

Are there any movies that you find hilarious that most people, including the critics, thought totally stunk?

I feel that way about Step Brothers (2008). When it came out, most everyone I talked to said that it licked. Then when it came on cable, Gancey Girlfriend saw it, told me it was hilarious, and she was right.

However, here is what the critics thought:

Roger Ebert from the Chicago Sun Times gave it one and a half stars, said it was too mean-spirited, and the characters swore too much for his liking. Oh, boo fucking hoo, Roger!

Peter Travers from Rolling Stone
gave it two and a half stars, and he said that while much of it is gut-busting funny, some parts are "funny not so much." How does a movie that busts your gut from laughing with a few bits that don't work only get two and a half stars? Isn't it the movie's job to make you laugh? If it does that, I'd say it's a success, and it should get the three stars because anything less implies a crap movie, as far as I'm concerned.

To me, the movie is funny as hell, and best of all, it added a word to the Gancey Vernacular: Doucher, as in, "I can't believe I've been living here for two weeks, and I'm walking around this place thinking I've got a huge doucher for a stepbrother"

How's about you, Seven Readers? Any movies you love and most everyone hates?