. . . You Know You're an Old Dork When

. . . You're a teacher, and the first thing you do at work is swing by the science lab to ask a teacher if they have one of those eye washers to get the Rogaine out of your eye.

When did you know you were old/not cool anymore? If you haven't had this realization yet, what event will tip you off?

Never Cook With Oxyclean; It Will Leave You Hollow Inside*

I signed the girlfriend and I up for one of those hands-on cooking classes because we both want to get into cooking more. What's cool about the one I found is that you can sip wine while you take the leaves off of stalks of Thyme and other bullshit tasks, and you get to eat everything when you're done - and everything was absolutely incredible.

Now, I don't blog about stuff like cooking, specifically. I'm here to tell you that there was a guy there who looked just like the guy from the Oxyclean commercials, he was every bit as intense, and thrice the asshole. First off, he stood across the island from his wife, which I suppose didn't have to be a sign that he was a fuck-o, but then he was throwing uncomfortable digs her way all night. I whispered to Gancey Girlfriend, "Oxyclean over there is a real butthole." She said, "Oxyclean, what the hell does that . . . (as she looked over) . . . oh yeah. He does look like that guy." I've always been good at spotting celebrity twins of people, and I really know I've nailed one when someone barely knows who the celebrity is, looks at the person, and wholeheartedly agrees with me. Love it.

The group consisted of like 7 couples who all knew each other and then us, but everyone else besides Big Oxy was really nice but really yuppie. Sometimes I get self-conscious around people with lots of money, and then a conversation about "the market" breaks out, and I want to stick my head in a food mill** and turn the crank. Am I getting to the age now where I need to start having adult conversations? Am I supposed to get stoked for a guy when he talks about the granite counter tops in his condo? If he were nailing his girlfriend on the counter top, now that's a story, but otherwise I just can't stand that sort of shit.

Hey, Seven Readers, Is it my own insecurity or is that stuff just real boring? I guess what I'm asking here is for a comment from someone with money who still thinks conversations about money and material things are conversational masturbation.

*Props, another way of saying a prize of nothing, to the reader who tells me what movie this title is in reference to, sort of.

**Just learned about that item that night. I love how general the name is. It's a kitchen item that really doesn't want to get pigeon holed. The other important thing the lady and I took away was . . . Shit, I forgot already, and it was a real good tip, too . . .

"You're a Butt"

Last night, after dinner with the family, my first-grader nephew tried to tell me something from inside the minivan as I said my goodbyes to my parents. He was motioning to me, and then pointing towards his butt. But what could it mean?

I'm a butt?

He rolled down the window to tell me, sure enough, "You're a butt."

Updates

1. I just wrote an article for Starpulse entitled "Top 10 Bands Who an Aging Music Snob Can Begin Admitting He/She Likes" My editor notified me that it got picked up by something called Fark, and I was getting brutalized in the comments section. The people completely missed the point by saying the bands sucked, in that I was admitting that the bands were nerdy, but I was ready to admit I liked them anyway. Oh well, no press is bad press, as they say, and you can read me getting bashed right here.

2. The other night I caught three grunge cover bands of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Alice in Chains, and you'll be able to read about my experience very soon at Staythristymedia.com. My buddy told me a great story from his grunge days there that didn't make it into the article, but it will make it here. He was being hoisted up for his one-and-only crowd surf, and some guy said, "This guy's a porker!" From that day forward, he steadily started losing weight because that comment always stayed with him. "He had to use the term porker," my friend still angrily mutters to himself . . .

3. On the Wood Sugars site, I'm going to have a segment where I'll be turning old blogs of mine into videos blogs. if you have any thoughts about which ones would be funny, email me or leave something in the comments.

4. Tonight I chose to write an article about grunge cover bands rather than watch the Super Bowl, but I tuned it just in time to see the dramatic conclusion and the dramatic improvement in the appearance of the wife of Cardinals quarterback Kurt Warner since her Superbowl Appearance. I mean, I don't know if it's really true that blonds have more fun, but chicks with flat tops have just never done it for me, even Sheena Easton.

Backpedaling

I just finished a play in Chicago about infidelity, and my next project will more than likely, at least partly, deal with cheating as well. My writing partner and I decided that lots of authors continue with or revisit a theme if they still have more to say on the topic, and this theme is still important to me at least, as evidenced by this conversation I had with my girlfriend the other day.

Gancer: Seriously, though. If you ever slept with anyone I know, I'd have to kill you.

Gancy GF: Excuse me???!!!!

Gancer: Well, you know. I wouldn't kill you, but I'd be pissed as hell. I'd hurt you real bad, like with a pillow case full of oranges or something.

GF: Jesus, Gancer!!

Gancer: I wouldn't physically harm you. I'm just kidding. I could never hit a woman or a man for that matter. I've never even been in a fight. So, I wouldn't hurt you physically, but I'd make your life a living hell.

GF: Why are you threatening me like this?

Gancer: I'm not! I wouldn't ever make your life hell. I care for you way too much to do that, but I'd certainly have to do something.

GF: Like?

Gancer: Well, maybe pour some water in your car locks in the dead of winter to freeze 'um up real good or move all your picture frames around slightly to screw with your OCD tendencies or take your mail so that you never get your heat bill and they shut the gas off and . . .

GF: (incredulous stare)

Gancer: I really wouldn't do anything at all, but I'd be so hurt. Please don't ever do anything like that.

Halite, Halite. My Boyfriend's Back.

I was at work the other day helping some kids learn how to add and subtract fractions, when I found myself singing to them two ninths to the tune of Phil Collins: "Two ninths, two ninths, two ni-iinths. Woh ooooooh." I don't think they remember the song, but I think they liked it anyway cause I'm a lot of fun.

It got me thinking about one of my favorite teachers in high school who when quizzing us on the different types of rocks would cue us for halite by saying, "my boyfriend's back." You know, "halite, halite. My boyfriend's back."

He would also say, and keep in mind that he looked like Christopher Reeves but talked like Yogi Bear, "Gancer, I will give you an all expenses, paid trip to the in-school suspension room!" Just before a three day weekend, he would say, "I tell you what. You kids have been so good. Don't even come on Monday. I'm serious. Take the day off. You've earned it.

I found myself saying that last one to the kids yesterday, since MLK Day is Monday. I'm officially a nerdy teacher.

Okay, Seven Readers who I'll soon have to call Three Readers, who was one of your favorite teachers growing up? What was one of their catch phrases?

Sorry about the decline in blogs lately, but I should be back to at least four or five a month now that this play is over with. We sold out all three night and even had some standing room only! Everyone is telling me how much they liked it, but I know that I can't just bask in that - I need to build on it. There will be a short break, but then I need another project to stay creative.

I just did a piece on Starpulse.com about how I think the movie Caddyshack is overrated, and because it pissed so many people off, I got more comments than I've gotten on any blog in a long time. It was tough to see all those people slam me, but I know I'm right - and no press is bad press, right?

I also put up a new blog on the Loitering Hole play site, and you can read that by clicking here.

Have I ever told you guys about Brutal Jim*? His name isn't Jim, but he's brutal to talk to, so we call him Brutal Jim. He's always talking about how much money he makes, and he's one of those really dorky guys who thinks he's cool and is kind of mean, perhaps in an attempt to overcompensate for his dorkiness. Well, I ran into him recently, and he's still as brtual as ever. Anyone have a fun nickname for someone they know?

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*His name isn't really Jim. I just wanted to change it in case he or someone he is close to reads this. Fuck it. He's brutal. His name is Bill. Just kidding!

Updates at the Ass End of the Two Thousand Eights

Well, I haven't blogged here in a while. Writing, directing, and producing this play is consuming my life, and it may have something to do with the fact that I've never really done all three of those things. We just posted our second webcast video, and I think you'll get a bang out of it. I also just posted another journal on the site about Jack Frost trying to f' up my shit, and that should go live any minute. It's been a lot of work, but it's really exciting. I hope to have at least 2 of my 7 readers make it. You know why I have no readers these days? I don't comment on other people's blogs anymore. I'm so sorry about that. I will try to make the rounds while I'm off of my real job for the next two weeks.

In other news, Gancey Girlfriend is in another state with her family for Christmas. We thought it would be a good idea to do a Separate Ways (yes, like the Journey song) Christmas, since traveling to both would be an impossibility. Well, as it turns out, being totally alone for Christmas was depressing, but having someone and not being able to see them is way, way worse. We'll have to muddle through somehow . . .

What are my Seven Readers doing for NYE? I'm spending it at a small gathering at a couple's house in a remote suburb where I spent this Halloween and this NYE back when said couple lived in Chicago proper. In years past I would have rather drank 25 vodka red bulls at some crowded bar with a bunch of young idiots. This year an intimate gathering sounds good, especially since I'll be with Gancey Girlfriend, my Heterosexual Life Partner (who I just did a blog about on the Liars Club Blog), and a good friend who moved away, an experience I wrote about here. He actually inspired the whole gancing phenomenon for those of you who know what that is.

Well, happy holidays to all of you. I'm going to pass out, get up early, buy a bunch of crap at Toys R' Us for my nephews, drink too much wine with my old man, drive out to my sister's, wake up the next day, and see what Santa brought my nephews. Jeez, I bet the oldest one doesn't even believe anymore. I hope he's one of those cool big brothers who keeps the younger ones believing. I know I'm that type of guy . . .

Around the time that the Sex in the City movie came out, I saw that a lot of women were taking online quizzes to figure out which character their personalities were most inline with. I'm sure lots of women learned about themselves from filling out those questionnaires, but the results don't concern me because I'm a child of the 1980's; therefor, I want to know which Golden Girl best represents my readers (male and female).

Those four silver foxes could solve all the world's problems in their robes while eating cheese cake until the break of dawn, but each had to play their part.

Which one are you?

Are you . . .

Blanche Devereaux: She's a bit of a slut, but she expects men to wine and dine her, given her southern belle upbringing. If you're a Blanch, you have dated a lot of men over the years, and you may continue to date within your retirement community. You've slept enough men to win the war in Iraq, but if anyone points that out, you're appalled at the characterization.


Rose Nylund: She's a sweet, sweet woman, but she's not too bright. If you're a Rose, you're a simple woman, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes the world needs uncomplicated, nice, harmless people.

Sophia Petrillo: She's a wise-cracking chick who tells a great story. If you're a Sophia, you're often holding the floor at a party with a great story or perhaps stealing the show with well-timed one-liners.


Dorothy Zbornak: She's smart but cynical. If you're a Dorothy, you're very insightful and funny, but a bit of a glass empty gal.

If you must know, I had a Blanch period a few years back, I have dumb moments like Rose, I can be a little too Dorothy for my own good, but I think overall I'm a Sophia.

How about you, seven readers?

Also, check out the Facebook group for the play I'm writing/producing (The Loitering Hole). There's a video of me to watch, which, for many of you, may be the first time you will see Dr. Ken live and in color.

Also, check out the review I did of the new Guns N' Roses record where I compare it to a can of Dr. Pepper.

Gancey Up Yourself

I just found a great way to cheer myself up, and I hope it works for you.

Go to dictionary.com, key in funny/gross words, and make your computer pronounce them out loud. There are girl and boy readers, and they both have a knack for making funny words funnier. Try these:

Scrotum
Dick
Pussy
Penis
Smegma
Fart
Shit
Poop
Tits
Nuts
Masturbation

The holidays can be depressing. Maybe some dirty words with a deadpan delivery will help. It has to help a little. I mean, just listen!

I am NOT Thankful for Blanket Text Messages

Have you had this happen? You're sitting down to your Thanksgiving meal, and you get this text:

"Happy thx giving to you and yours"

You think to yourself, "That was so nice of Jim to reach out like that, but I haven't talked to him in like a year. Wait, did he send that to just me or to everyone on his phone list?"

That's right. This person cared enough about you to scroll through his/her phone contacts and click YES when it came to your name. You should be honored!

I remember last Christmas I got like 9 blanket texts. They're annoying. I'm sitting down to dinner with my family, and my phone keeps buzzing. I'd turn it off, but would if someone I really care to talk to, like my Aunt in Colorado, calls? So, I have to leave it on and keep checking the darned blankets.

Well, this Thanksgiving I decided to respond to each and every one, and here's what happened.

Blanket Texter One:
Unknown: Happy Thanksgiving. This is the day to be with your family and be thankful for what you have.
My Response: I wish you the same, but to whom am I wishing this towards? I dropped my phone in a urinal a while back.
My Thoughts: I got a new phone contact when he responded! What's bad is that I think we had the same exchange last Christmas after another phone got ran over by a cab.

Blanket Text Two:
Neighbor: Happy Thanksgiving!
Me: Same to you. I know this is a blanket text, but I'm sorry we kept you up the other night.
My Thoughts: I felt a need to explain that I didn't think she was wishing just me a happy holiday, and yes, we did keep up all our neighbors the other night.

Blanket Text Three:
Friend: Happy Thanksgiving!
Me: Same to you! I'm replying to all blanket texters this year. See you at your party
Friend: Hahaha! See you there.
My Thoughts: This person gets it. : )

What are your thoughts, seven readers? Do you agree with blanket texting? Do you do it? Does anyone see themselves responding to a bunch some time, maybe Christmas time? If you do, tell 'um Gancey sent ya.

Playing (Badly) With the Boys

As I was on my way to work this morning, "Playing With the Boys" by Kenny Loggins came on, and I immediately thought about the volleyball scene in Top Gun. When I was a kid, those pilots were locked in a heated grudge match, showing that their rivalry in the sky continued while on the ground. As an adult who knows his way around a volleyball net, all I can think is, "Man, those guys are in good shape, but they suck at volleyball." All four of them: Ice-Man, Slider, Goose, Maverick. They all suck.



You would think that someone on the set, maybe a grip, would know how to hit a ball properly to at least get them looking anything less than a special education gym class. Also, why does Slider flex for the other guys? I mean, it's just a bunch of dudes playing volleyball. It's not like the movie has homosexual undertones or anything. Oh . . . Wait. I mean, "Playing With the Boys" does sound kind of gay.

There's a New Post . . .

. . . at The Liar's Club

The next post here at The Gancer is the 200th. For the historic post, I'm going to ask everyone who comes by to tell me his/her favorite post of mine of all time (the last few years). If you haven't read that many or can't think of any good ones, just skim through like three at random and tell me the least crappy one.

Cast your votes in the comment section of this post, and I'll give the results on the 200th.

I Have a Bad, Bad Feeling . . .

. . . that some idiot is going to shoot Barack Obama.

Every time someone with any kind of potential to be moving, exciting, or revolutionary comes along, some asshole, in turn, comes along and shoots him. That's why we haven't seen someone like him in so long; after Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, John and Robert Kennedy, and even the Pope, for Christ's sake, got shot, nobody wants to make an impact, lest they get lit up by some hate monger with a rifle, a scope, and a bolt loose.

On election night, Barack plans to celebrate here in Chicago. When I heard that, I immediately thought that he would get shot that night. I didn't just think it, like, would if. I thought, "Oh no! Someone will shoot him," like it was clear to me that it is going down.

If he does get shot, I'm leaving the country. I'll let you guys decide if it's going to be Mexico or Canada because I can't go any farther on my budget. I'm just packing everything I own into my car and driving north or south. Which will it be, seven readers?

Friday night I decided to stay in and work on the play (The Loitering Hole). I'd just like to say that it's the second consecutive Friday doing this, and all the bars in Chicago have been contacting me wondering if I'm all right. This really shows my dedication, I think.

Anyway, one of my roommates comes home and is all excited about his new iphone. He shows me a couple features, a moustache maker, a harmonica, etc., and sits down in a chair two feet past the door. I went back to writing for two hours and came back into the kitchen to find him in that very chair still playing with it. This time he showed me a map feature that can zoom in with the satellites to find exactly where you are. It really says something about me that the first thing out of my mouth was, "Oh, that's great because if you have a blacked out drunk, road show, one-night-stand you could find out exactly where you are the next day.

Technology is an amazing thing.

Happy Ending for the Ladies?

Gancer Girlfriend got a text from a coworker last night that read, "Girl, I just went for a massage, and the guy used a vibrator on me. I came 5 times."

HUH?

This conversation then went down:

Gancer: Wow. I didn't know they did that.

Gancer Girlfriend: I don't think they really used it on her vagina. I don't think they do that.

Gancer: Well, I would assume that is what she meant.

Gancer Girlfriend: No. She's not the type of woman to get that kind of service.

Gancer: Well, she's kind of that type of gal. Doesn't she have a stud stable of boyfriends, one of which she gave a time frame of when he could come by and break her off, another she told didn't f' well or go down on her well. Her notion was that most men do one or the other well, and . . .

Gancer Girlfriend: Okay, okay. How do you remember all of that?

Gancer: You know me. I remember all things like that.

Gancer Girlfriend: Okay, I need to call her real quick and get to the bottom of this.

So, she calls her up, and sure as shit, the masseuse, without asking if it was all right or not, took out a vibrating device and hummed away at her naughty bits long enough for her to cum five times and juice all over herself like she peed herself. One other yucky detail: As he was doing this, his less-than-impressive penis was brushed up against her hand.

Has anyone heard of this sort of service?

Shouldn't he have asked first?

Do you think that service was on the list of services on the package, so to speak, she had agreed to, and she just didn't notice it?

This whole thing came as a shocker to me, and I just want to get my readers' input on the matter . . .

Trish the Crack Whore

You're hearing everywhere of the importance of blogging in the political arena, but all I ever talk about are farts and stuff. So, coming up on my 200th post, I figure I'd better make The Gancer just as relevant as the other boring blogs you're not reading by saying something about the man everyone is talking about, Joe the Plumber.

I tuned in late to the debate tonight so I don't really know what he's all about, but he sounds real fun, like a professional wrestler. My guess is that he represents the common man, or the middle class, but when will the low class be talked about more? When will the debates discuss Trish the Crack Whore? Stan the Bookie? Eli the Underground Abortionist? Sharon the Borough of Queens Cockfighting Ring Card Girl? Sheila the Gal Taking a Crap on the Train*?

Surely all of these folks have problems and day-to-day lives far worse than Joe, and you just know their stories are more interesting.

Maybe it's best that I stick to farts.

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*At first I called this person Bill, but then it dawned on me that I had pigeonholed women to roles of crack whores and ring card girls. Hey, a woman can take a crap on a train as well as any guy. I'm such a feminist, man!

Doing Stuff

1. I wrote a piece about the most notable guest appearances in Friday the 13th films over at Starpulse.

2. At The Liar's Club, I posted something about those court ordered breathalizer things that people have to use to start their cars.



3. Any minute now, I hope, my review of Mercury Rev's new record should go live over at Staythirstymedia.com.

4. Yesterday my partner and I booked our play and will perform it at The Gorilla Tango Theater here in Chicago on January 9th and 10th.

5. Last night I brought the house down with a killer karaoke version of Cold as Ice* by Foreigner.

6. I've been a busy boy, for sure, but I'm most proud of point number 5.

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*The play we are writing has a karaoke theme, so we were intent on singing a song to celebrate booking the theater today. It wasn't looking good as the closing hour was approaching. Then, I got bumped up the list for picking up and gathering up the contents of the MC's tip jar, which she didn't know fell and contained numerous twenties. We nailed that song. The best part was when a buddy of mine was rocking the guitar solo and I was doing the break down with my back against his. That's an oldy but a goody rock maneuver if I ever saw one.

I'm Writing a Play . . .

. . . And I want all my blog buddies to attend.

It's going to be a one act, forty minute or so performance with only four principal characters. We're booking the theater this Saturday for two shows in January. I'm co-writing it, and I may have a real small part in it. Hopefully I'll just be co-writing because if I have to act in front of people I'll probably get the nervous shits.

If you've been reading for a while, you can probably guess that this thing is going to be a combination of funny, gross, and heart warming.

I'd seriously love it if my first meeting with one of my long-time blog buddies was shaking his/her hand and having a drink with him/her after a performance.

More details to come.

In the mean time, here are a couple quick updates.

1. I'm going to see The Godfather on the big screen with my lady this Friday night.

2. The Cubs broke my heart. In my Michael Corleone voice: "I know it was you, you God awful Cubbies. You broke my heart"

3. I have tickets to see Louie C.K. this month and Mercury Rev in December.

4. What should I do for my upcoming 200th post?

Italian American Defamation at Ridgemont High

My boss at a record store I worked at years ago, my best job ever, once said that Fast Times at Ridgemont High portrayed Italian Americans in a bad light, since Jeff Spicoli and Mike Damone were such shits. I thought at the time that it was just another one of his stupid theories, we all had them, that we would throw out there on a slow Sunday afternoon, but after watching it again last night, it was the Lovely Gancer Girlfriend's first time around, I think he was really onto something.

Jeff Spicoli, portrayed by Sean Penn

The Deadbeat Facts:

1. He never held a job, choosing instead to consistently smoke pot all day, often with guys who looked an awful lot like Eric Stoltz and Anthony Edwards, and sometimes to the point where he couldn't feel his own skull.

2. He was a lousy student. He showed up late to class, once wearing a flannel with no shirt underneath and a bagel tucked into the front of his pants. On at least one other instance he ordered a pizza to his classroom, without his teacher's permission, to learn about Cuba and have some food. Yet another time he went along on a field trip when he wasn't even in the class to see cadavers because he thought dead bodies were "gnarly."

3. He borrowed a friend's older brother's sports car, smoked reefers and drank beers behind the wheel, and crashed it into a pile of cinder blocks, totaling it. After failing to fix it with his father's, who was a television repair man, ultimate set of tools, he resorted to making off like a rival football team trashed his car. This led the car's owner, an already unstable defensive lineman, to have an enraged, frothing at the mouth performance against that team, leading to numerous injured players, one of which was twitching and having convulsions. These events were all set into action at the hands of the devious Italian American, Jeff Spicoli.

4. In the epilogue we learn that after high school he would save Brooke Shields from drowning, which is good, but he would later blow the reward money on the costs to get Van Halen to play his birthday party, which is not too good.

Mike Damone, portrayed by Robert Romanus, a man whose illustrious list of TV guest star appearances include Weird Science the television show and CHiPS.

The Deadbeat Facts:

1. He was a high school grifter of the worst order, scalping rock concert tickets at school and at the mall with a keyboard scarf slung around his greasy, Italian neck*, sometimes trying to talk impressionable girls into going to Cheap Trick concerts when they didn't even like the band. He also was a bookie, a very stereotypical Italian American profession, and tricked his clients who didn't understand the unfair odds he was laying against them, and offhandedly told them about a spread only after the bet had been made.

2. He helped his friend gain the confidence to ask out a girl he was pining for using the Mike Damone 5 Point Plan, only to sneak around and nail her behind his friend's back with a twelve second bump, squirt, and a giggle in a pool cabana. Later, when she told him she was pregnant, he responded with a "you wanted it more than I did!" He agreed to pay half the cost and give her a ride, but ended up standing her up and giving her none of the agreed amount. When she called to see where he was, he had his mother tell her that he was helping his father in the garage.

3. In the epilogue we learn that Mike Damone would end up pumping slushies at a 7/11, unlike the non-Italian Hamilton who foiled a robbery and made assistant manager.

One can even look at the cameo roles in the film. Nicholas Cage has no speaking roles, but he can be seen both in high school and burger joint shots. Who is Nicholas Cage's uncle? Francis Ford Coppola, another Italian Amerian who made The Godfather, perhaps the film with the biggest legacy of Italian American Defamation. Think about it, man . . .

Your turn, seven readers: Tell me something you've seen in the media that portrays a group of people in a bad light that few people point out, or just tell me a scene from Fast Times that you like, not counting the part where Judge Reinhold is whacking it to Phoebe Cates because that is everyone's favorite part.

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*There was no need for that greasy comment, but I couldn't resist turning it up a notch for effect.