Pet Monkeys

He had a monkey, and rumor has it, he "beat it."

Here's the thing: I'm tired of rich celebrities with pet monkeys.  They so rarely understand that monkeys aren't supposed to be pets, and they don't take the time to nurture the damn monkeys.  I heard Michael Jackson tormented Bubbles the chimp by poking him with sticks and stuff.  The other day I saw a picture of Beyonce kissing a monkey.  Now that is just wrong.  You know why?

Keep putting the hat back on, and he will just keep lifting it up to look for lice to eat, dumby.

Because I wanna' kiss a monkey, God damn it!  Actually, kissing is a bit much.  I just want to a monkey hug.  Just a few.  I know that a pet monkey is a lot of work, and I'm no less selfish than a celebrity, so just a monkey for a day would be fine.

Bieber just went to jail, and I've been wondering who is going to house his monkey.  I would gladly do the right thing and take in the monkey.  But just for a day.  No, I wouldn't teach him to drink or smoke or anything messed up like that, but I can't promise that he wouldn't try on some super awesome outfits, maybe a few Metallica shirts.

Monkeys are trending.

#Monkey.  #Monkeyforaday.  #Monkeyhugs.

I just set the blog record for use of the word monkey in this post.  I figure if I say monkey enough, the right monkey owner will contact me and let me hang out with their monkey for a day.  You all better say monkey a few times in the comments just for good measure.

She has a damn tiger cub too?  Jesus H. Tap Dancing Christ on a pogo stick, that is cute!

Mayhem

Back when I worked at a record store, we sold a lot of posters of a Norweigan death/black metal band called Mayhem.  I had no idea at the time that they were a band that engaged in arson, suicide, and murder.  In that order.  Let me explain . . .

The lead singer had one of the best names ever: Dead.  He liked to make himself look like a corpse, and by burying his stage clothes in the ground a few nights before a concert, he could look and smell like one.  The band all lived together in a house in the country and in 1991, Dead, took his own life in that house by slitting his wrists and shooting himself in the head for good measure.  In his suicide note he apologized for the mess and for shooting the gun indoors, and said "cheers."

Finding his band mate's bloody corpse, guitarist Euronymous did what anyone would do.  He went to a nearby store to take photographs of Dead's dead body to use for the cover of their next album.  He also took pieces of the skull to make necklaces out of to give out to black metal bands he thought were good. What an opportunist and what a straight up psychopath!  One member named Necrobutcher thought the band was getting a little nutty and left, and another departed after getting a death threats from Euronymous.  Members in the band used to burn down churches together, so if you weren't keen on that, you couldn't be a member of Mayhem either.

Then one night in 1993, Vikernes murdered Euronymous.  Vikernes claims that Euronymous planned on torturing and killing him and video taping the whole thing, and when Euronymous attacked him, he simply defended himself.  By stabbing him.  23 times.  Oddly, the courts didn't buy that story and sentenced Vikernes to 21 years in prison for a combination of the killing and the whole church arson thing.

The band would continue on with drummer, Hellhammer, as the only original member and person crazy enough to stay in a band like this.  He has abandoned the satanic imagery.  Great, right?  Nope.  They then got into Nazi and racist themes in their music.  Dang it! Then in 2003 a fan was hospitalized for a fractured skull after getting struck by a severed sheep's head that was hurled from the stage. 

In May of 2009, Vikernes was released from prison.

I'm going to Norway this summer.  I hope I don't meet any of these guys.  If everything goes to plan, I won't be involved in any church burnings, I won't get stabbed 23 times, and I won't get hit in the head with an errant sheep skull. 

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What did you think, folks?  Did you learn anything today?  How did you like my book/internet
report on Mayhem?     

Hockey Hair and Hockey Songs

What is it about hockey that attracts the types who still like classic rock, heavy metal, the working class, and long hair on dudes?  And I don't at all mean this in a bad way.  It's good.  Very, very good.

I went to a Chicago Blackhawks game on Friday night, and I noticed that during any break in the action the house music would kick in with songs like Bad Company's "Rock and Roll Fantasy" or Billy Squire's "Lonely Is the Night."  What other sport is still utilizing songs such as these?  I like to think I know a little bit about what is good and what isn't in music, and these songs are really stupid in a lot of ways but really enjoyable in most every important way.


(Jeez.  That is just a lousy lip-sync performance.  He doesn't even try to sell it.  Must have been on a bender the night before.)

I also noticed that women going to a hockey game aren't all dolled up like the women in the first few rows at a Lakers game.  Not at all.  Those gals come in there without makeup, wearing a baggy-ass hockey jersey (something few girl can look good in), and they are very invested in the game, not even talking to their boyfriends about anything but hockey.  I went with an old friend who I only see once a year or so, and we were getting looks for talking about things that did not concern the game at hand.

Another break in the action at a critical moment in the game, and we hear REO Speedwagon's "Riding the Storm Out."  I did a blog post a number of years ago about pedaling my bike through an epic storm on the  way home from work to the sounds of that very song.  And yes, I had it on my iPod then and still do.  Sue me.

Hockey is it's own little world.  And it's the only sport in Chicago where the team is playing worth a damn, so I'm trying to get into it a little more.  With feel good songs like these, how can I not get enthused?

And here is this song because I heard it in the bar after the game and it kicks major ass.  Have a very sham-a-lam-a-ding-dong Martin Luther King Day, everyone.

At Least I'm Not a Brony

How's everyone doing today?  I had kind of crappy day.  I was tired all day and had a crisis which made me bust ass when my ass felt like going to sleep, and then my car was stuck in the ice when I tried to go to lunch.

However, whenever I think I'm a loser, I just remember that there are guys out there who play with My Little Pony dolls and call themselves "bronies."

Yes.  Life ain't so bad because I'm not a complete moron like the guys featured in this documentary.

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ohnuyqJyEW0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

I think my favorite line is the one that goes something like this:

"I was just sittin' here, just liven' day to day, and then The Ponies came into my life, and I'm like 'Wow.  I wish this day could go on forever!'"

The Boot

A buddy of mine was in a relationship for a long time in which he was having "the sex" around once or twice a year.  Newly single, he is ravenous out there, taking home women of all shapes and sizes and telling us all about it.  I must say, every time I say him on a Sunday during a Bears game, he shares some hilarious information about one of his recent encounters, the funniest of which would be the following:

He got down with one gal recently, and apparently the act was less than enjoyable for him based on this description of what it felt like to go in there:

"It felt like doing it with a fireman's boot full of warm, spoiled mayonnaise."

Let that soak in for a moment.  Like the mayonnaise.

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How about you, Seven Readers?  Got any friends who became suddenly single, and it's totally weird hearing about them dating?  

At my work we got some new workout equipment, so this coworker and I have been working out every Tuesday and Thursday.  The thing about this coworker is he is just a way better person than I am.      I know, I know, some of you are saying, "Ken's not such a bad guy!"  No, I'm not, but for a variety of reasons, he is just a better human being than myself.

1. He is deeply religious and I believe in nothing at all.  This gives him an overall optimistic attitude that probably effects each number below this one.

2. The only person he has ever had S.E.X. with is his wife.  Meanwhile I have had some of the most regrettable encounters ever out of sheer loneliness at 2AM, and I have blown off a bunch of women by just not calling them anymore, like a total coward.

3. The other day we're working out, and he is telling me that he wants to paint his office.  I asked him why in the hell he would waste time doing something like that, considering no clients are ever coming in there, and he said because there are holes in the walls and the color has no character.  You should see my office.  I got an R2D2 from Burger King on my desk, and that is about the classiest thing in there.

4. He never talks smack or gets negative.  So many other people around there do, but he never lets himself get sucked into that sort of thing.  I talk a little smack, much less than most, but if there is a good joke in it - I can't resist.

Overall, I feel like if I spend a couple days a week with this dude, some of that work ethic and morals will hopefully seep into me at some point.  Most of the people I hang out with are more like drinking buddies.  Those can be the best kind of friends, but it doesn't hurt to pepper in some "good people" buddies in the mix like this fella.

How about you?  Ever hang out with someone who makes you want to be a better person?

2 Snow Days!

I just had two snow days right after a two week vacation, so this is my sixteenth day off of work.  It has been below 20 degrees outside, many offices have shut down, and people on Facebook have been stepping outside to toss boiling water into the air to film it turn into ice-cold vapor instantly.  From what I have heard about what it's like out there, I decided to stay inside for these two days.  Here is what I have been doing.

1. Reading. I just finished the Johnny Carson biography and last night, during some awesome insomnia, I read almost all of "Juliet, Naked" by Nick Hornby.  I like using the kindle because I can click a word, and it instantly tells me what it means.  One word I don't use nearly enough is wont, as in "I'm wont to staying cooped up in my apartment for days at a time and steadily losing my mind."

2. Working out.  But not at the gym.  It's far to cold to go all the way over there.  I have weights and things at home and an application on my phone where I can search for workouts to do, it gives me instructions how to do each exercise, and then I get points when I'm done!  What do I get for these points?  I have no idea.  There is no winning, just more points - not unlike Donkey Kong.  I also like when the computerized voice chimes in to say "You can do it."  Thanks, robot fitness lady!

Hey, I just had a thought.  Why don't they have video game based workouts, like jumping over barrels thrown by donkey kong, or pedaling a bike that powers Pac-Man faster, and making turns somehow to get power pellets and ghosts?  Probably this has already been done in some variation, but I think the classic games would hook in the aging people who loved those games and need more work out motivation.  I know at least one guy that fits that description.

3. Actual work for my actual job.  I just did an hour or two of that.  I was desperately hoping that I couldn't get logged into the system and would have an excuse to blow it off, but alas, it bloody worked.  Anyone else hope for good excuses like that?

4. I finally broke down and threw out all my old VHS tapes.  Considering I don't have a VCR and most everything can be replaced on DVD or laser disc and there is no space in this tiny apartment, they had to go.  But as some of you know, books and music and things are kind of like my little friends and so hard to part with.  Two that I didn't dump was a recording of Super Bowl XX when the Bears won (along with the victory parade) and the original Star Wars movies in widescreen format and before Lucas went back and put in the piss poor cartoons and things and ruined entire scenes.  But when am I seriously going to ever convert those things to DVD's?  Likely never.  They'll just sit in a corner somewhere being ancient and awesome and every day increasing the likelihood that if ever put into a VCR, the tape will shoot out like a ticker tape parade.  Kind of sad, really . ..

5. Listening to lots of music.  I have kept my iPod in the next room and have not allowed myself any skips.  You would be surprised with the stuff you own and like when you have tons of weird music and can't remember where it all came from, like me.  We can find value in a song when we don't immediately jump at the chance to skip it without giving it a fair chance.  I just heard this cover of the Flaming Lips by Postal Service that I didn't even know I had.



How about you, Seven Readers?  What have you been up to?  Has it been this cold out by you?  Did you miss any work as a result?

Roofie Huxtable

I was looking through the memos on my phone to see if there were any good blog topics that I had jotted down, and there was an entry from New Years Eve to myself that read only the following:

Roofie Huxtable.

I did a google search, and it looks as if no one else had thought of it, but the question is, is it funny?  No.  It isn't all that funny, but can I make it into a worthwhile blog topic?

Would if there was an episode of The Cosby Show where Rooty slips her whole family roofies so that she could do all kinds of stuff that little kids like to do when unsupervised: Play her pop albums on the good stereo, try on all Mrs Huxtables jewelry and clothes, eat cookies a mere hours before dinner, maybe cut off all of Denise's hair, take Heathcliff's BMW for a spin, make a pipe bomb to blow up Peter's house for no particular reason . . .

No, that wouldn't be a good episode, and it's a downright shitty blog post.  I apologize.  And grown up Rooty is sorry too.

Random As Hell Chicago Updates

1. My mom is coming into Chicago to spend the day with me.  We're going to the Chciago History Museum, which will be the first time for both of us.  Then later tonight we're going to play team trivia at a really chill bar in Lakeview.  Our team might just be the two of us, but she's a ringer for sure.  The question is, am I going to pull my own weight?  I'm praying for a Megadeth category . . .

2. The Bears just signed quarterback Jay Cutler to a seven year deal, and wow are my Facebook friends mad!  Some are calling it a prison sentence, others are calling it the 7-year-itch (as if he is football venereal disease).  I'm still taking it in, reserving judgement, ready to drink beers every Sunday and watch my Bears, win or lose.  That's the kind of fan I am.  A drunk one.

"Does it smell like burnt plastic in here?"

3. I got a burrito place down the street from me that I love because the guys in there are always fast, efficient, and in a terrific mood.  It's always, "How are you doing, mi hermano!?"  I also have a janitor at my work who, like mis hermanos, is always loving life.  It's like he would rather be doing nothing else than cleaning poopy streaks off of toilet bowls.  With janitor guy, it seems a little suspicious that he is that gleeful, like maybe he is sniffing the cleaning products.

Either way, remember how good you have it because there are guys serving burritos at 3AM and mopping floors who are three times happier than you, and your job isn't so bad, right?

First Adult Movie Experience Podcast: Part 3 of 3

In the final installment, Southie tells the story of the first adult film he ever saw.  He was in his Uncle's basement and had a pretty traumatic experience.  It sounds awful when you say it like that, but it's not what you think.

Songs used in the background on this podcast:

1. "The Stroke" by Billy Squire
2. "All By Myself" by Eric Carmen
3. "Let Me Put My Love Into" by AC/DC

Go ahead and give it a play or a download.  Let us know what you think, and if you haven't already, share with us the story of your first time watching a dirty movie as a kid.

Foot in the Mouth Moment #3,011

I was at a holiday party recently in which the music was terrible.  This wouldn't usually bother me that much (okay, it always bothers me), but I know the host had good music but was not allowed to play his own music - his wife's music was dominating.  Then he was told to play music in the kitchen, and I'm thinking, "Yes!  My boy's music will be in the kitchen, so I'll just hang out in there.  That's where the booze is anyway."  Nope.  She came in there later and switched that to her music too.

Just when I was settling in with some decent scotch and starting to get a warm buzz on a cold evening, and just when I'm buzzed up enough not to care too much about the music, I suddenly hear this weird whimsical techno crappola stuff kick in that just couldn't be ignored.  An instant record-scratcher track where everyone stops and says, "Huh???"

That's when I blurted out the following:

What in the hell is this shit?  It sounds like what the Teletubbies play at one of their cocaine parties.  

Then ladyfriend came over by my side to whisper to me that the song was something that a guest at the party made with his DJ'ing, and he was three feet away from me when I loudly delivered that comment.  Oops.

In my defense, if you heard the song and my description, you would have congratulated me on instantaneously deducing exactly what it sounded like.

How about you, seven readers?  Put a foot in your mouth lately?

Early Morning Riser

I had a long day today.  Stressful and emotional.  I stopped off for a beer by myself at a good bar by my apartment.  It's worth the extra few blocks because it's awesome.  Talking about Journey Atari games got me engrossed with some of the regulars, and as some country music played, I got excited to go home and listen to "Bustin' Out" on vinyl by Pure Prarie League.  I bought this record years ago only because "Amy" is on it, but it is chocked full of awesome southern rock.  And I bought it for $0.49.  Yes.  Less than fifty cents.

I just read that paragraph and saw that I was excited to go home.  Wow.  Officially a dork.

Kim Coulter wrote her name in some permanent marker across the front of the cover of the LP.  Don't you ever want to know who these people are?  I imagine tons of people have sold this record for a host of reasons, but the way I operate is I need to know who owned THIS VERY COPY.

I'm a weird fan of rock music.  The kind that wants to know who listened to this album and where.  And which drugs were consumed.  And did Kim have any feelings about having to part with this record, or was it Kim's daughter who sold it?  And is Kim dead?  Did Kim ever really dig this record?  I mean, she cared enough to write her name on it . . .

Anyone else think at along these lines, or am I totally a nut.  I am too nuts to be alone right now, right?  Maybe I should just belly up to the bar again and stop being a nut.

First Dirty Movie Part 2: A Dangerous Encounter

This is the second of three stories in which three dudes sat around and told the stories about the first porno movie they ever saw as a kid.  In Dangerous' first time joining a Gancer podcast, he does an excellent job talking about the times he and his friends rode theirs bikes over to his neighbor Jimmy's house to watch a porno flick and the lengths they had to go to keep Jimmy's dad from figuring out.

Hope you enjoy.  Have a listen or download it by clicking the options at the top, and let us know what you think.

The songs in the background of this podcast are the "Ding Dong Song" by Gunther and "Sex Machine" by Sly and the Family Stone, and the picture below is actually the cover of the infamous movie in Mr. Dangerous' past!

First Dirty Movie Podcast: Part 1 of 3

In the latest podcast here at The Gancer, Dr. Kenneth Noisewater and his good friends Southie and Dangerous tell the stories about the first pornographic film they ever saw.  It is our contention that right or wrong, no man will forget their first.

In part one of the three part series, Dr. Ken discusses the film he saw as a youngster - a film with a surprisingly decent plot, a dirty scene with a football as a prop, and a break in that leads to a three way as punishment for the would be burglar.

Ken was rather horrified by his first adult film viewing, and you will surprised at how he exacted his revenge upon that lascivious VHS.

Hit play, enjoy, and please share in the comments what you think about it - or share your first experience.

I'm doing in a podcast today with some friends.  The topic is the first pornographic movie we ever saw.

What about you, readers?  Where did you find/buy it?  How old were you?  Do you remember the name of it?  Were you turned on or totally horrified (like me)?

Stanky Booty Ass

The lady and I got aboard a train to go downtown for Christmas shopping, and the second we poked our heads in we smelled the foul stench of a thousand dirty assholes.  It was rough.  I was really tired that morning and needed my coffee badly, but those dookie fumes surely had already seeped into my cup.  I will take sleepiness over poop java every time.

A Black couple stepped on at the next stop, and while his girlfriend took an air freshener out of her purse and sprayed away liberally, he had the following to say:

"Aww hell naw!  Who's the smelly-ass muthafucka on here?  I don't care if it was Obama himself smelling like that, I'll smack you in the head with some soap, with yo' stanky booty ass."

He was actually scanning around the room and making eye contact with all the passengers, hoping to find the culprit.  The smell really angered him.   I like his idea of executing some poetic justice on the guy by braining him with soap, and while "stanky booty ass" doesn't seem to make much sense, seeing as booty and ass mean exactly the same thing, "self" in this sense means more like "himself," if that makes sense.  It was worded perfectly.

And my coffee flavor was instantaneously changed to Stanky Booty Ass. 

Know Your Audience

I woke up from a nap today and checked my Facebook.  I don't recommend this practice because we're not always thinking clearly in a state such as this.  The first update I saw was from a local newspaper who was outraged that a bar, one which I have been to tons of times, posted a special on their giant sign outside the bar for everyone to see: "Remember Pearl Harbor With Bombs and Kamikazes!"  Call me a dumb ass, but my gut reaction was to laugh my ass off.  Now if you haven't already deemed me an idiot, the next thing I did was respond saying that people need to lighten up.

Then I realized that I could probably lose my job or something, so I deleted it.

It's good to have sick people around to make jokes with, and that's when it's time to do stuff like that.  When you own a business, yeah, don't make a joke like that plastered on your building.  As a matter of fact, don't say anything that anyone can ever be offended by.   However, if I were drinking in that bar (again, I have a lot), and if the bartender, knowing his audience, proposed honoring the day with those shots, I would have gladly drank them and likely paid for them.  And certainly laughed.

It's just a matter of knowing your audience.

Caution: Swim At Your Own Risk

Well, another blog about a dream, but I'll make it brief and hopefully funny.  In last night's dream, my girlfriend and I had this fabulous house up in the hills somewhere, overlooking the ocean.  The pool out back was great because it had a spectacular view behind it, however, swimming in the pool were around four giant rats like the one in The Princess Bride, all no less than the size of a cocker spaniel, and one 10-foot-long albino alligator.  The GF was walking past the pool on her way back into the house, and the 'bino alligator took a snap at her ankle, narrowly missing her.  Why none of these critters ever got out of the pool, I don't know.  They just circled around in a frenzy, biting one another.

"Come on in!  The water's warm!"

In the dream I actually said this, and keep in mind that it's a small pool where you could see all the way to the bottom and there are extremely dangerous animals that are very easy to spot in there:

"We really need to remind guests not to go into the pool."

The GF and I came home drunk on Friday night, and we both wanted to watch a movie.  She popped in "Aladdin," which wouldn't have been my vote, but I'm glad I watched it again because it's still funny, the songs are good, and overall it just holds up well.  Robin Williams could probably have done the performance with 10 less impressions of celebrities that have nothing to do with anything, but beyond that, it's a good time.  The two of us actually sang all the songs loudly, so sorry neighbors.  We actually went into an impromptu a capella "Little Mermaid" song quite loudly, so I'm even more sorry about that.  But yeah, we nailed it.

Also, I have a confession: Back in high school, I was insanely jealous of Aladdin.  Why, you may ask?

Great minds dress alike.

1. He Has a Pet Monkey.  I have always wanted a pet monkey.  Yes, I know that they don't usually make good pets, and sometimes they rip your arm out of its socket or eat all the flesh off of your face, but they're just so darned cute.  Mine would for sure wear the little outfit like Abu, and he would definitely be perched up on my shoulder all the time, turning back flips every now and again, maybe right when I get off a good one-liner, just before I make a dramatic exit . . .



2. He Has a Hot, Exotic-looking Girlfriend With a Perfect (If Not Impossible) Body, and Giant Pretty Eyes.  And she's rich and doesn't dig rich guys.  Back in high school when I was watching this movie, she didn't really need to be any of these things.  Simply being not animated, having a pulse, and willing to sleep with a dork like me would have worked out great.

I don't remember her wearing this

3. The Son of a Bitch Has His Own Flying Carpet.*  Whenever I'm flying through my own powers in a dream, it's the coolest thing ever, and there is this feeling of complete control.  I would say I have had this dream around three times, and it's always incredible.  I'm pissed when I wake up because I know the dream is over and I can't really fly.  The ability to fly would be outstanding.  I could bypass a traffic jam, and then just wrap the carpet around my neck like a scarf and head into my business meting (or more likely the bar).  That or I would stuff it in a brief case so that I look important.  Any way you slice it, I want one of those things.

Okay.  I'm still jealous of that punk.  That street rat . . .

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How about you, readers?  You ever get jealous of a cartoon?  Roger Rabbit also comes to mind.  I was always funny as a kid but couldn't seem to land the giant chested songstress type . . . 

*You will notice that having the magic lamp is not on the list.  I have just seen too many problems with the whole wish thing in all the movies.  He can keep it.  

Sporty Texts. The Only Way To Go These Days

Around the time I started this blog, my best friends and I were out three nights a week doing three things:

1. Boozing

2. Trying to meet women

3. Doing stupid stuff

Even if we usually only accomplished numbers one and three on the list, those were some of the best days of my life and they were the best friends I'll ever have.

Those particular friends have since: 

1. Got married

2. Had kids

3. Moved to the suburbs

I have done zero of those things, which has caused us to not see each other nearly as much, but we still talk just about every day through text messages, usually about sports.  Sometimes a Chicago Bears game will be going on and the four of us will exchange 50 texts, which is pretty much the text rate of most middle school girls in America.  

These conversations are important because with them having babies and being in the burbs and all, it's not like they're out at the bar with me every weekend - so this my only means of staying in touch and remembering how funny these guys are and why they're my best friends.

For example:

James Douglas Morrison knew I was watching the Bulls game on tape when I got home from work, so he said:

JDM: Watch out for a giant boob chick in a Bulls jersey in the crowd who is undoubtably a stripper.  She's right after the lady who looks like the Kool Aid Man and just before the creepy Robert Englund guy with his arm around a kid.  

Now, without JDM, I would have fast forwarded through those crowd shots.  With him, I laughed my ass off at his dead on descriptions of these weirdos, and it's like we were watching the game together.  

How the hell did people stay in touch before text?  Christmas cards?  Phone calls?  Yuck.  I don't want to even think about it.  This is the only way to be friends with anyone.  I'm convinced.

Anyone have people they text with more than anyone else and you make each other laugh out loud all the time?