Monday, October 31, 2011

Samoans, Do the Humpty Hump

A friend-of-a-friend got mugged by three guys a block away from my house fairly early in the evening on a weeknight, which really worried me. I was telling LSD, my girlfriend, and she asked if he was able to identify them. I told her that they were Samoans, but I was just kidding. But, would if they were? I imagine you could outrun some Samoan gentlemen, given their size . . .

LSD then told me that Tongans are also big people, and she's right because I looked it up and 90% of Tongan people are overweight. They share the distinction of the highest overweight and obese population with the neighboring Nauru.

So, if your would-be muggers are a Samoan, a Tongan, and a Nauruan, the best course of action would be to run, feed them, or spark up an argument between them about Tonga's Constitutional Monarchy.

Sunday, October 30, 2011


I was driving with my lovely girlfriend, LSD, and the "Cheers" theme came on my iPod. We were both very much caught off guard by the lyric at around 1:20 where he says "and your husband wants to be a girl."

It was a wise move to not use that verse for the show because it could really throw off the viewers, seeing as transvestites and/or transsexuals didn't play a significant role in the story lines of "Cheers;" at least not in any of the episodes I have ever seen.

Also, I think it's funny to sing it like this: "You wanna' go where everyone knows you're gay." That would be a killer sing-a-long at a gay bar, don't you think? "And they're always glad you came" is a lyric that kind of works for that version too . . .

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Tank Diesel

I was at a wedding this weekend in this beautiful mansion, and I got wonderfully intoxicated. At one point I was talking to a fun couple, and the guy said that he was trying to talk his wife into naming their son, Tank Diesel. I was such a fan of this name, that we were calling each other by that name all night.

As I was giving the girlfriend, LSD, a piggy-back ride on the way out of the party, I could hear a voice behind me yelling, "Yeah! Take her home, Tank Diesel!"

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

The Next Podcast Right Here on the Gancer

I saw my good buddy, Crom, tonight, and it's really the first time I talked to him at length since he got a girlfriend. He had been living alone out in the suburbs for a long time, and he'd joke around that his apartment was nothing but stacked up empty pizza boxes and sex robots.

Now his ladyfriend is over all weekend every weekend, and he's banging away like a son of a gun and happier than I've ever seen him.

This got Crom and I thinking about our next podcast. How about the top 10 loneliest moments of singlehood. Look for this to hit the world wide web for 10's of people on this blog very soon.

Monday, October 24, 2011

I Have Nothing To Blog About . . .

. . . so here's a clip of Black Sabbath during the Ozzy years. I just read Ozzy's autobiography, "I Am Ozzy," which made me laugh out loud more than anything I've ever read. I was intermittently setting it down and rolling around my bed laughing, whether it was a story about blowing away chickens with his shotgun or shagging three groupies in one night, each of them coming in to do him and then just "fucking off."

People who only know him as the bumbling old guy shuffling around his mansion stuttering and mumbling to himself on the reality show need to know that the guy was a rock god and a member of one of the most influential rock bands in history, considering Black Sabbath basically invented heavy metal music. Tell me this performance isn't killer . . . .

And even if you don't think so, read the book anyway because it's funnier than hell.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Great Weekend, But I Have One Regret

Until this weekend, I had never been to a wedding with coolers of beer with stickers on top saying which beers were in each one, and you could just reach in and grab them yourself. I'm telling you this because it led to HLP (Heterosexual Life Patner) and myself lining up the tops of them on our table in an attempt to drink every different type of beer, which led to horrible, horrible drunkenness on my part.

Back in our cottage with other guests, while in varying stages of blacking out watching the World Series, I threw a stuffed goose for this great dog that was along for the wedding, she jumped over a couch to get it, knocking red wine all over some poor guy's suit. I don't remember much of this, but apparently I thought this was hilarious and I never so much as apologized.

Now, I know this was stupid on my part, but when there's a stuffed goose and a terrific dog in the room with me, I'm not NOT going to throw the stuffed goose for the terrific dog. Right?

No, it was dumb, and I need to get my boozing under control . . .

Thursday, October 20, 2011

A Good Dirty Movie Title

My roommate was watching "Grey's Anatomy," and I was watching for a moment waiting for "The League" to come on. To make good use of my time watching a crap television show, I tried to come up with a porno title for the show, considering the show is written about as well as a porno with just as many senseless sexual encounters, including lesbian action. Here's what I came up with:

"Grey's Downstairs Anatomy"

What do you think? Got any better ones?

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Rules for Long Distance Relationships

My girlfriend, LSD, and I came up with some simple rules to long distance dating, and maybe they can help you too.

1. You can't sleep with other people.

2. Well, you can, but only if they're celebrities.

3. But they have to be major celebrities on a list submitted to one another, since LSD has already rubbed elbows with a few stars, making just any celebrity a possibility.

4. Come to think of it, Dr. Ken gets to have twice as many celebrities on his list since he lives nowhere near L.A.

5. No sex with animals either.

6. Unless they're really famous animals. For instance, one of the dogs from the "Kardasians" wouldn't count, but the president's dog is fair game or Bubbles, Michael Jackson's chimp, since, being the king of pop, Michael's chimp is royalty.

7. No peeing on dogs or chimps. That's just too weird.

So long as we follow these simple rules, I think we'll make it.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Very Superstitious Plumbers

I have this friend, I'm going to call him Plumber, and every time he comes out to the bars with me, he gets lucky with the ladies. He's a good looking guy, but I think when I'm out with him I force him to be more social because he can be shy. I'm fearless out there because I have a girlfriend, so what the hell do I care, right?

So, he had gone home with girls 2 straight times when he went out with me going into Saturday's outing. We were having a burger cook off at my place, and then the second we stepped out into the alley to go to the bars, the neighbor girls, who I don't even know, hollered at us to come join them on their garage deck. I thought it was unsafe move on their part, but luckily for them, Plumber and I are not rapists. We mingled with them for a while, one seemed interested in Plumber, he got her number, and she's been blowing him up ever since.

Then at the karaoke spot, we met a number of women. One had a tight dress that looked like tin foil, like a baked potato, but she wasn't very cool. Then another girl thought I was an MMA fighter, I think because she has seen me in the bar with my friend, Gung Ho who trains. I was too drunk to be clever enough to lie. Then there was a pair of girls we were chatting up, and while I ran interference on the not pretty one, at some point Plumber had a barroom make out deal with the pretty one. Boom!

You ever get superstitious about things when you were single?

I know there were certain shirts I was convinced were vagina deterrents, and I'd never wear them out. Some bars I would go to I would see friends having success, but I'd be like a damn leper in the joint. Then other shirts and other bars would be really consistent for me.

Anyone have anything along these lines they'd like to share?

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Her Birthday Session

Sara: It's my birthday.

Doctor Fauser: Happy birthday! We're almost done with the session. I'm curious why you didn't mention this before?

S: Probably because I don't like thinking about what a shitty birthday this is.

DF: Yes? And why is that?

S: Well, let's see. The first thing I did when I woke up was cry. Birthdays totally suck, especially because it commemorates the day I was born.

DF: And why is that so bad.

S: Because I wish I was never born.

DF: What do you mean by that?

S: Don't worry. I don't want to kill myself. It's just . . . Life really sucks sometimes. And it's 6:00, and still no one has said happy birthday to me, besides you, but you're my analyst so that doesn't count.

DF: People didn't even say happy birthday on Facebook?

S: (Laughs)

DF: What's so funny?

S: I just don't picture you on Facebook. With pictures tagged of you drinking out of funnels. In one of your nice suits.

DF: Don't look for me on there. You will find no such pictures. I never drink like that with a good suit on.

S: (Laughs again)

DF: But surely someone said happy birthday on Facebook?

S: Yes, but that doesn't count. Nobody cares enough to go beyond that, and those people are hardly friends anyways. And, did you know that I told my friend that this is exactly how my birthday would go? That I'd wake up and cry and no one would give a shit that it's my birthday?

DF: That's what we call a self-fulfill . . .

S: (cutting him off) Self-fulfilling prophecy, I know.

DF: I'm impressed. Do you think you do that often?

S: What's that?

DF: Set the stage for your own disappointment and eventual sadness?

S: Maybe. Probably. What do you think?

DF: I think that's something we'll have to explore next week. Our time is up.

S: Okay. Thanks. See you again next week.

As Sara and Doctor Fauser stand up, she checks her phone.

DF: I'm willing to bet you missed some calls. Or texts?

S: Yeah. A few, actually.

DF: You see!

S: Yeah. See you next week.

Sara smiles, turns away and opens the door.

DF: Yes you will. Oh, and Sara?

S: Yes?

DF: I'm glad you were born.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Long Distance Runner and Long Distance Relationshiper

A few weeks ago I was intent on running from my house to Navy Pier (in Chicago), and it's not enough to just say I'm going to the Pier because I didn't want to leave it vague so that I'd turn around early. So, instead, I said I had to pat the head of one of the statues in there, preferably an R2D2 mailbox, which was no longer there, so I had to opt for a statue of some kids playing "ring around the rosie." I did okay on that run (10 miles or so), but it took me 4 and 1/2 hours to run the marathon and my dad did his in like 3:07 at my age. It took me an hour and a half longer. My dad could have finished his race, popped in "Zombie Land" and watched the whole thing in a Lazy Boy, waiting for me to finish. That is, if time and space allowed such a scenario for our 34-year-old selves to race one another and there were big chairs and televisions at the finish . . .

Later that night, I ordered in sushi by myself and watched a movie, also by myself. It was kind of lonely night for me in a big empty house, missing my girlfriend who is living in L.A. In fact, when the character in the movie, "Zombie Land," as a matter of fact, says how he loves to brush a woman's hair behind her ear, I got insanely jealous; I love that move. Yes, I was jealous of a fictional character merely because he got to touch another fictional person's hair and ear.

So, that's me: A long distance runner and a long distance relationshiper, and I'm finding that I'm not too good at either one. And they're both equally painful.

Monday, October 10, 2011

My FIrst Marathon Highlights.

1. My playlist was killer. Just before the race was going to start, I hit play and heard "The Final Countdown" by Europe. I also entitled the playlist, "Chicago Marathon. You Can Do It," so the little voice in my headphones told me that when I selected that playlist. Sometimes I name lists with swears just to make the guy say them. Anyway, the race took me a little longer than I thought so I had to skip through to a couple songs to hear them twice. Songs heard twice: "Back That Ass Up," "Train in Vain," and "Just Like Heaven" to name a few. Major props to Kyuss for having two full albums on my list. I recommend them to anyone who works out or beats people up.

2. The signs people had were great. I saw one that said "Worst Parade Ever," which I thought was hilarious until I saw two more. However, the third one had the pic of the comic book store guy from "The Simpsons," which was a nice touch. Another said "Don't poop" (in big letters) and then "out" in small letters. Another said, "While you're out, can you pick up some bread and milk? We're all out." Turns out it was a friend of a friend with that sign. Another said "Run, total stranger!" These signs made me laugh, which is huge when you're running. Other signs were inspiring, if even just for 5 seconds.

3. People give you cheers and high fives as well, and it's even better if you have your name on your shirt so they say, "All right, Dr. Ken!" High fives from little kids kept me smiling. One lady had a sign that said "free hugs," and I really considered it. Another guy had a sign that said "free beer for runners," and he was giving out tiny cans of beer. I saw one lady with a sign that said "shortcut to free beer" with an arrow pointing the way everyone was running anyway. I only got a quarter through my free beer at the end of the race. It tasted amazing (Goose Island's 312, a great Chicago beer), but it just wouldn't go down.

4. I had plenty of beer after getting home and taking a nap. The last bar we stopped at had a drunk sweaty Black guy doing Thai Chi for the whole bar, for some reason. He was quite pleased with himself, but I was more impressed with the sweat coverage on his shit, which was thicker than anyone in the race that afternoon.

5. I was running a couple miles with a friend of mine until she stopped to pee at a point I didn't have to, and as we were approaching the gay neighborhood of Chicago, Boys Town, where there were male cheerleaders and all sorts of fun stuff, I said to her, "I can feel the gayness." And she said, "What? You can smell the anus?" I laughed and said, "No, that's not what I said, but I wish I had because it's fricking hilarious . . ."

6. On a serious note, I wore a ribbon with my buddy Gung Ho's mother's name who just died of cancer. I had it on my back, so I would periodically check it it was still there through out the race. She made it the whole way!

7. Was I in pain? Yes. At one point people were handing out Ben Gay type stuff in packets, and I damn near squirted in my mouth before I heard someone yell, "No! Don't eat it!" Wait, it gets dumber. After putting it in my hand, I rubbed it all over my knees and took a pee, touching my wang with the stuff. I'm not going to say it hurt, but it did just feel super weird, and it was all I could think about for a whole mile.

Thursday, October 06, 2011

Stream of Ganciness

On today's run, I was thinking these sort of rambling thoughts:

That Dylan McDermott is an asshole because he was mostly naked like 10% of that ghost show and in much better shape than me despite being older than me, and he made me go for a run and do pull-ups and sit-ups. Then again, I'm glad I'm running now because I had that beef sandwich earlier. Which I'm burping up. Shouldn't have gotten the hot peppers.

I know I don't listen to enough new music, but they just don't make albums like "OK Computer" anymore. Hell, Radiohead makes really good music these days, but even they don't make anything anywhere near as good as this nowadays. It's kind of like sports where you can't possibly make your best work past a certain age, that is without performance enhancing drugs. Roger Clemens threw harder at 40 than he did when he was 20. There is no equivalent to that in rock. If Roger Clemens had a rock band, maybe called "Rocket," even if they were good at some point, the stuff he put out in his 40's wouldn't be nearly as good. Sure, you can make quality music in late adulthood, but it just won't have that power, angst, edge, evilness, and sexiness that it did in your youth when you were young and crazy.

Hold that note, Radiohead, I gotta hit pause and hear what this saxophone guy sounds like in this tunnel. Hmmmm. Sounds like he's just tuning up or something. And it smells like piss. I know these guys probably get better acoustics in these tunnels, but why don't they just play in the open air? How can they stand that piss stench? Maybe the stink makes them blow a little hint of the blues into their horn . . .

The best song by the oldest possible guy was "Harvest Moon" by Neil Young. I'll have to look up how old he was when he recorded that one when I get home. Maybe blog about it. Eh, who am I kidding; there's no topic in that.

Wednesday, October 05, 2011

We Had Nothing Else of Better To Do at the Bar the Other Night . . .

. . . so SO@24, a guy I never met but knew from blogging and IM'ing, and myself recreated the image of the Hall and Oats classic album cover from 1982, "H2O."

It required getting very close to one another and staring extremly gayly into one another's eyes.

Here's the original:

After taking our own picture, seen below, my girlfriend, the lovely and talented Miss LSD, photoshopped it to look as red and stupid as the original. I got the blond hair, he's got the black. Sure, he's half Asian and has no mustache, but it's pretty damn impressive. And gay . . .

It's amazing how he and I and Chardsy, a gal who we had long IM conversations with like 3 years ago, hit it off so well in person and spontaneously did stupid crap like this. This sort of weird stuff keeps me laughing and happy.

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

I Don't Wanna . . .

. . . run this stupid marathon on Sunday

. . . wait another month to see my G.F.

. . . spend a bunch of money on 3 weddings in 2 months.

. . . go to a Halloween party without a great costume. I've had some good ones, so there's some pressure, but I have NO IDEA what to be.

Sunday, October 02, 2011

Have You Ever Had a Fart That Sounds Like a Chewbacca Howl?

I had one of those walking through a nearly empty airport tonight, and it got me wondering if wookies do, in fact, fart, and if so, how bad would wookie flatulence smell?