I really have nothing to say today, but what do you think of this?

My lady and I went out for some Bring Your Own Wine (BYOB) sushi tonight, and on the way home we wanted some dessert.  We stopped into an Italian place hoping to get some flowerless chocolate cake, and when we opened the door, the only people in there were one gay fella who worked there and three friends of his singing show tunes.  He sang to us that they were closed.

His friends urged him to get his ass back into the kitchen to cook us up some dessert, but we didn't want to trouble him - plus he was pretty drunk so he could have badly burned himself.  He did give us a tour, taking my girl by the hand and trying to warm her up (I appreciated the concern).  I told him we could come back in later in the week on Tuesday, but he was admittedly too drunk to enter our reservation into the computer, so he had me do it for him.  On the way out he introduced us to his friends, and for around the 20th time he said how adorable my girlfriend is. 

He said he would give us some free dessert but to be sure to remind him because he was well aware that he would likely be too drunk to remember him.  I'm looking forward to Tuesday.  Better brush up on my show tunes . . .

Tournament of Bad

I have been listening to a Chicago sports radio show that is doing a "Tournament of Bad," which is like March Madness only really crappy things in the world competing against each other in a tournament with people voting for the worst ones that advance through each bracket.  The Final Four were White Crayons, Wet Socks, State of Pennsylvania and No Turn on Red.

I decided to fill out my own bracket.  Here's what I came up with . . .

In the Bob Rohrman Schaumberg Ford bracket, I got No Ketchup on Hot Dogs Militants advancing to the final four, with some very close games against "Neighborhood" Cats and Pageant Moms.

Over in the Tilted Kilt regional I really had some problems because there are so many crappy ones.  Smell of Burnt Popcorn, People Who Still Write Checks, Taking Pics of Your Food are all bad . . . I'm going with The Smell of Burnt Popcorn because that just lingers all day at work.  Such a bonehead move that we all have to smell.

Up in the Townstone Financial section, I gotta say that I like Gym Teachers, Sharing a Hotel on Company Trips, Marathon Runners Who Brag, Self-Thrown B-Day Parties . . . Yeah.  That's the one.  People who throw their own parties are annoying, and even worse are the people who have multiple days, like before the party you go out to dinner and they pick a pricey ass place, or even worse, a tapas style place where everyone passes around tiny little expensive plates that you feel bad eating too much of, so you just have a tiny bite, but all you want to do is eat one entire sausage dish because it's the only one you like . . .

Last but not least we got the Menards bracket where I have Unsalted Nuts, Using the Word "Supposably," and Sporting Event Marriage Proposals all making a good showing, but in the end, Burning the Roof of Your Mouth was just too much for them to handle.

Then in the Final Four . . .

I got No Ketchup on Hotdogs militants edging out Burnt Popcorn smell in a nail biter.

Then I got Self Thrown Birthday Parties beating Burning the Roof of Your Mouth pretty handily.

In the final, Self Thrown Birthday Parties beat up on No Ketchup on Hotdog Militants.

What do you think, Seven Readers?  Anyone want to give me their Final Four in the Tournament of Bad?

Tonight my volleyball team played one of those independent teams where none of the players know each other, and they only had one male player this evening.  And he was old.  Really old, like maybe knocking on 70.

I told a guy on my team that we might want to watch out because would if he took a dip in that pool from "Cocoon?" 

Percy

I went out yesterday for St. Patty's Day with HLP and Jumper, and we ended up at Duffy's, a bar that used to be our hangout when we were the age of the people who still go there.  Sometimes we get feeling drunk and all powerful and invincible and think we need to go back to our old school spots.  Yes, we felt like the chaperones in that joint, but we still had fun.

There used to be a middle aged Black guy at Duffy's who was always wearing a giant white fur coat.  I thought for sure he was a pimp, but Jumper talked to him all the time and got a business card from him.  Turns out he sold those awesome coats, or maybe that was just his front for the IRS and he really was a pimp-daddy.  Who knows.

I got wondering what happened to old Percy, so straight away I asked our waitress, and she said "Who the fuck is Percy?"  I wasn't going to quit there.  I asked a few more folks, and no one had any clue what I was talking about.  I was on the case now, canvassing the joint for information like Columbo.  Jumper Houdini'd out of the bar suddenly, so now it was up to HLP and myself to find Percy's whereabouts.  I thought I had a good lead when I saw a 40-something looking guy who was there by himself trying to mack on the dance floor.  He said he comes in there all the time, and he looked to be around Percy's age, but even he didn't know our furry friend.  Damn it! 

If you have any information leading to tracking down Percy, I'm offering a reward, maybe a fur coat or a vodka Red Bull, but not top shelf, we're talking well here. 

Felony Franks

Did you know there is a place on the south west side of Chicago called Felony Franks where the owner makes it a point to hire people who are ex convicts?  They owner plans on franchising them all over the country with 75% being former inmates.

Being a guy who works with young men coming out of prison, I know how hard it is for them to get a job.  Many of us are able to click "no" when an application asks if we've ever been convicted of a felony, but wouldn't that be a bitch if you had to check yes?  I have seen some kids who can't find a job anywhere, and though they wish there was another way, they go right back into "the game" that got them in trouble to begin with. 

You can get a "Misdemeanor Wiener" at Felony Franks 7 days a week.   I think I may check it out soon, Seven Readers.  Make mine charred with celery salt, sweet peppers, and tomatoes on a poppy seed bun with cheese fries and a Coke.  And a convict.

Smokin' Hot First Ladies! Owwww!

I noticed last night that I had bookmarked an online article from Men's Health entitled "Hottest First Ladies," and I had planned on blogging about it, so here goes. 

Helen “Nellie” Taft (1909-1913)

 Get a load of this piece of ass, huh?  Did you know that Taft was also the all time fattest president (he once got stuck in his bathtub), so ol' Helen was also a bit of a chubby chaser.

Grace Coolidge (1923-1929)

Apparently Coolidge was a boring dude, but his wife was a lot of fun.  It says she loved baseball and even spent a lot of time in the Red Sox dugout.  It didn't say anything about what she was doing with the ballplayers in the dugout, but I think they were kissing her on the strikes and she was kissing them on the balls. 

Martha Washington (1789-1787)

 A painting?  What a rip-off!  I can't really tell if she's hot from a painting, and what's worse, I can't tell if she has a nice booty either with that giant, poofy dress.  Still, remember George never told a lie?  It was said that Martha's dad confronted a young George who had just been shtupping her.  George said, "I cannot tell a lie.  I popped her cherry."  True story.  Look it up. 

Betty Ford (1974-1977)

 Here we see Betty Ford playing field hockey, probably drunk off her ass.  That's right, she was the alcoholic first lady who later founded the Betty Ford Clinic when she cleaned up.  And got boring.  

Michelle Obama (2009-)

You have to admit that she's pretty fine.  And fit!  I think she'd beat me in arm wrestling.

Jacqueline Kennedy (1961-1963)

 Okay, game over!  Put your stupid paintings away because no First Lady has come even close to this fine.  When I typed "First" just then, I accidentally wrote "Fist," so that goes to show you where my mind goes when I see this picture.  Then we have the nude ones . . . 

These were the pictures famously published by Hustler magazine.  I really can't come up with a funnier caption than the one used where I found these pics online: " As you can see, even though she was a lifelong Democrat, she still supported bush."  

Okay, that's it, Seven Readers.  Who do you vote for?  Any write-ins?  Cast a vote.  For America.

Here's What Have I Learned About Slash and G N' R from Reading the Slash Autobiography . . .

1. Slash met David Geffen many times as a little kid through his parents.  Geffen would sign him years later without knowing at first that he knew Slash.

2. Slash's mom was dating/sleeping with David Bowie for quite a while.

3. When Guns were on the club circuit, they had a tiny studio space they rented and built a bunk to sleep in.  One night, Izzy and Slash were in the same bunk taking turns sleeping with a girl, and Izzy shot a load on Slash's leg on accident, prompting Slash to say, "We gotta get a bigger place, man."

4. Drummer Steven Adler was living with a Swedish porn actress who was very "accommodating," and the two and Slash would have "terrific threesomes."

5. Slash got busted in a car with a friend who had a needle on him, and he had to go to jail.  He spent three days in county suffering through cold turkey heroin withdrawals before Axl bailed him out.  It was only later that he found out the charge was for an unpaid jaywalking ticket.

6. Duff lived next door to Sly from Sly and the Family Stone who would come by to use Duff's bathroom.  He would be in Duff's bathroom anywhere from 5 minutes to 2 hours doing PCP and all sorts of other drugs and then just left.

7. Slash was given his nickname by actor and family friend Seymore Cassel who said he was "always in a hurry, zipping around from one thing to another."

8. There.  Now you probably don't have to read the book.  It has a couple of great stories, but it's not nearly as entertaining as Ozzy.  Go read that.  You'll find he is just about the funniest guy alive, musician or otherwise.  Actually, I lent it to my neighbor, and I better damn well get it back, as I plan to reread it some day.

This Big Goober Can't Read for Shit

 Get a look at this video.  This is a clip of some DJ's making fun of Tyler Hansbrough from the Pacers trying to read "Chicken Little" to some kids in Indiana.  HLP (Heterosexual Life Partner) told me about this thing over some beers and Zubaz, and watching it today for the first time, I laughed so hard that I nearly shot Mountain Dew out of my noes, which is weird because I haven't done the Dew in years.  Here's some things that are awesome about this chronological order (be sure to turn off the music player on the right before hitting play).

1. Ironically, In the first line of the story he says that Chicken Little was not the brightest chicken in the coop. 

2. He says "a corn fell," but it's "acorn."  Wow.  You dumb-dumb!!!

3. His reading is so choppy and obviously at around a 5th grade level, so just how in the hell did he attain a bachelors degree from North Carolina University?  I'm quite sure the readings for his Western Civilization class were a little more advanced than "Chicken Little."

4. At 2:04, he messes up "farther" and "further," which would be okay in an interview, but when you're reading it?

5. And then at 3:15, he says "grasps" instead of "gasps."  Good lord, you dumb billy!

6. At 3:50, he says "squashy" instead of "squishy."  I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that's just the way it's written, but given all his other errors . . .

7: At 4:00, he says "libarian," as in minus the "r."  God, I really hate that tragic error.

8: At 4:10, they play him saying "In-i-anna Pacers," as in minus the "d," a couple times in a row.  This might be where I laughed the hardest because he plays for the damn team in the damn city and can't say it right!

9. I probably wouldn't poke fun at this guy so much because there are lots of people with reading difficulties, but in last night's game against my beloved Bulls, he shoved Brian "The White Mamba" Scalabrine.  There is no need to shove the garbage-time bench player who gets a standing ovation from the crowd just because he's a goofy-looking ginger who barely plays, especially since Hansbrough's illiterate ass was down 20 at the time.  Maybe we have Tyler and White Mamba in a reading contest, live from the "libary." 

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