Words of the Day Are Fun When They're Swears!

Today's word of the day is muthafucka.  I realize you may be thinking a few things.

1. I spelled it wrong.  That's intentional.  If you say motherfucker, those two "R" sounds are all wrong for how this word should be used in this sense.

2. Also, today's word of the day is to be used to start a sentence.

For example:

"Muthafucka, I already told you that shit!"

or how about . . .

"Muthafucka, where the damn milk at?"

I just asked Mrs. Noisewater to start a sentence with the word of the day.  I said, "Quick, say a sentence that starts with muthafucka.  Her first attempt was this:

"Muthafucka bitch?"

I let her know that her sentence made no sense and would need a verb.  Her next attempt was excellent, though.

"Muthafucka tried to rob me!"

I rather like that.  It tells a story.  He tried to rob her, which implies that he failed and she likely fucked that muthafucka up!

Try a sentence with the word of the day in the comments section, readers.  I'm confident you will find it to be a good deal of fun.  Also, try the word of the day on a friend and let me know how they react.

Oderus

I got a text the other morning while getting ready for work that said "Oderus is dead?"  I rushed to my computer to see if it were so, and sure enough, Dave Brockie, who portrays Oderus Urungus in Gwar, was pronounced dead at the age of 50.  I always give my lady a kiss goodbye before heading off to work, and on this day when I told her that Oderus was dead, she said in a sad tone "Oh, I'm sorry."  I was really touched by her saying it like that because his music is silly, his costume with the giant dick dangling down is disgusting, but she knows that I think he was one of the funniest and quick-witted rockers ever.

In case you don't know, Gwar is a band that dresses up in elaborate costumes and claim to be from another planet, trapped here on earth where they view humans as inferior morons that they like to murder on stage.  I saw them kill Snookie and her aborted fetus at a show a couple of years ago.  I saw one video where they kill the pope.  Anyone offended by this has to be a complete idiot because it's all done very tongue and cheek.

Hey, here they are appearing on Joan Rivers back when they used vague European accents.



And here is Oderus on the Fox News show "Red Eye" where he did regular appearances as an interplanetary correspondent.



My first experience with Gwar was watching the "Live from Antarctica" at a buddy's house, and I still remember the incomparable Oderus saying this:

You humans aren't a bad lot.  So long as you know your place.  And that place is face down in the dirt, digging your own grave with the bridge of your nose, with my dick up your butt.  Thank you very much.  

It's sad to see him go, especially because there really isn't a Gwar without him.  It's like the Jimmy Hendrix Experience without Jimmy Hendrix, and no - that's not an exaggeration.  

I had a few too many and ended up at the Burrito place that I went to when I had too many so long ago.  The same guy was working the counter.  I said to him, "Wow, you're still here.  You were here like 7 or 8 years ago, and you look the same!"  He said he had been there 14 years.

Good lord.  I have been living and drinking in the city that long.

I had one of those days at work yesterday where I wasn't feeling well, and I was being pulled in a thousand directions and never felt like I could get each task done right before getting yanked into the next more urgent thing.  The whole time I knew the day would be capped off with the wake of my friend's mom who just died.

And wakes are not fun.  So I'm mingling through the wake, and I'm not a strong mingler to begin with, but put a dead person in the room and I'm twice as bad.  It's really hard because you see someone you haven't seen in a while, and you blurt out how good it is to see them and you got a big smile, but then you catch yourself looking too happy, so you dial it back down with a frown and smooth it over with something like "I just wish it wasn't under these circumstances."  I could maybe blame it on being sick, but it's probably more about the crippling fear of me and everyone I care about getting older and dying. I left thinking what a terrible performance I put on in there.  I know I'm as sad as just about anyone in there, but while I'm in there I can't get over my own shit to just act normal.  So I cried in the parking lot a little.  

Driving back to the city from the burbs at around 8 at night, I find myself dozing off.  I switched over to the naughty station on my Sirius radio thinking that sex stuff will keep me awake, and there is a porno actress giving relationship advice to callers who want advice from porno actresses.  The one guy says that his relationship with his girlfriend is not going well and he has a couple of "side chicks" going.  Porno actress host says that the right thing to do would be to end things with the girlfriend because it's not fair to carry on these other relationships with her around.  Now there is proof that women in the "industry" are not without morals, right?  Then the caller says that his girlfriend is crazy for a variety of reasons, and porno actress does a total 180 and says "Oh yeah.  She's crazy.  I guess just keep it going with those side chicks."  What the heck?  How quickly she changed her tune!  Now, I realize these women are not without their foibles, but stand by your convictions, woman!

Anyway, to sum up, or if you just skimmed to the end:

Paragraph One: Dr. Ken bitches about having a bad day at work and feeling sick, as if that doesn't happen to everyone.

Paragraph Two: Dr. Ken's dear mother of his good friend died, and she was the sweetest woman you could ever know and baked the world's best chocolate chip cookies that the whole block tried in vane to duplicate.  She left us far too early and she will be missed.  And nobody knows how to act at a wake.

Paragraph Three: As you may have already suspected, porno ladies are not the best place to seek relationship advice.

Fun Size Lent!

Before I go any further here, let me just say that I don't hate Christianity or any other religion.  There are just some things about a few of the beliefs and practices that I think are silly, and I think we all think that to some degree, don't we?  I guess it's like anything else where it's not the the religion itself that sucks, it's the people who act a certain way that suck.  Kind of like how we don't hate the Yankees nearly as much as we hate their fans, or whatever sports team we choose to hate.

For one thing, Lent bothers me.

I'm a pretty big athiest/agnostic.  And I'm not happy about it or smug about it, rubbing it in people's faces and calling them dumb for believing in stuff.  Believe me when I say that I envy them for having belief in a higher power.  How can I not be a little jealous when all I really believe is that we can have a few fun moments in life but eventually we die and rot, and that's about it.  Dying and rotting.

But if I did believe that there was a Heaven and a Hell, and if living a good life and following all the rules sent me to heaven, and living a crappy one meant going to hell, I'm pretty sure I would be the best Christian the world has ever saw.

"Who let Scar up here?"

So heaven would have to be so awesome that we couldn't even possibly imagine it.  I suppose you would wake up at around 12PM every day, the weather would be about like San Diego, you are nailing a different super model every day before getting out of bed (maybe you scroll through a list and pick one out of on your heaven phone), you have an appointment to play some two-on-two beach volleyball with Malcolm X (and it turns out he is a very cool guy), then you go to the best barbecue ever where you roast a unicorn like a pig roast, and it's the best unicorn you ever ate that whole year.  Then you sit around a campfire with some more great dead people, John Lennon is there with a guitar, and everyone has a sing-a-long while drinking craft beers from the finest of Heaven microbreweries.  And you probably meet another super model there and have more insane sex that you never tried, perhaps in zero gravity or something.  Then the next day makes that whole bookended with super models day look completely shitty.



Now, if I'm a Christian and that is awaiting me if I just follow some simple rules, however strange they may sound, I have to believe I'm following them to a T because Hell doesn't sound to good.

Your standard day in Hell starts with being woken up by the bullhorn demon (who has a giant bullhorn for a face) at 5:30AM after sleeping for 25 minutes.  And you slept standing up.  You're immediately ushered with into the line at the DMV where you will be pushed and shoved trying to avoid the fires in the middle of the office, because there are annoying fucking fires everywhere in fucking Hell.  When you finally get to the front of the line, the fat crabby demon working the counter tells you that you don't have right document you need for your Hell driver's license, so you will have to be tortured for the remainder of the day and get up the next day to get in line again.  And torture has got to be pretty bad if hell itself is constantly totally awful.  I'm thinking that you are tied up in a room somewhere, naked, and there are demons with hot pokers, like how people brand cows, and they're playing a movie of the shitty life you led, laughing at each of the mistakes you made, and poking you at those moments, like some kind of demented and painful drinking game.  And today's clips are exclusively from your miserable high school experience.  With close ups of your acne and lots of rewinding for particularly horrible moments.

So if that's what heaven is like and that's what hell is like, I got to believe I'm making some sort of major sacrifice during Lent.  I would have nine or ten things to give up - some things that would make the big dogs upstairs quite pleased with me.  Something that would bump me ahead of a few people.  Maybe I would give up hitting the snooze button, masturbation, sugar, alcohol, skipping work outs, and just about anything else that is bad for me.  And you know what?  While I'm at it, maybe I'll do whatever else it says I should do in the bible all year round if it means I can go to heaven to play beach volleyball with Malcolm X and avoid going to that DMV line in hell.

"Look! How fun!"

I'll tell you what I would NOT do during Lent if I believed in Christianity: Give up Snickers bar.  Not giving up chocolate bars, chocolate in general, or sweets in general.  Nope.  Too hard.  This guy just gave up one specific brand of candy bar.  And this asshole will eat Baby Ruth's, Mounds, and Watchamacallits all month long.  And you know what?  If someone offered him a fun size Snickers, he would probably just say "fuck it" and eat the thing and make an excuse like, "Well, it's just a fun size, after all.  Jesus will understand that what I really gave up was the full size one.  Sure, he was nailed to a cross after dragging the damn thing 200 yards while being whipped, and I gave up my full size Snickers.  He will be quite pleased with my sacrifice."


So there you have it.  I don't believe in much of anything, but I like to think that if I were a Christian, I would be a better one than the Snickers bar guy.  That's all I'm saying.

These Are the Top 10 Awful People At the Bar. The People That You Meet Each Friday.

10. The Jukebox Saboteur.  Some jerk played In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida three consecutive times, but no one there will fess up to it.  More than likely he keyed that up and left to another bar just to stick us with 19 minutes of crappy drum and organ solos.

9. The Jaeger Bomber.  You have already told this guy that you don't want to do any shots because you have to go into work the next morning, but every time you turn around there is a tray of shots coming your way, and usually something disgusting like Wild Turkey.  You see, the Jaeger Bomber is not happy until we're all slobbering drunk and peeing on ourselves.  Like him.

8. The Barfly Loner.  He sits there alone every single night, knows all the staff members by name, and he is sipping his drinks and slowly killing himself.  And that's totally fine, so long as he doesn't talk to us.  It's when he chimes into everyone else's conversations that he becomes a problem.  We know, you have it all figured out and know the answers to all the world's problems.  But why haven't you found out how to avoid spending all your time and money perched at the end of this dark and dirty bar and dying a lonely death?

7. No Game and No Quit.   Sometimes the ladies just want to go out and have a few drinks, maybe dance a little, and yes, meeting some cute guys is a bonus.  However, you have got to know when your very presence has begun to ruin their night.  There are some guys out there who just don't know when to cut bait and move on.  Some men will tell you that all women are bitches, but the truth is they have to resort to being a monster bitch just to get guys like this to go away.

6. The Ping Pong Ball: This guy just doesn't seem happy with any bar you've gone to all night long.  The minute you walk in, he has immediately surveyed the scene and decided that there aren't enough women in there, the TV's aren't in high def, the bartenders aren't good looking enough men's room attendant has shitty mints, and the hardwood floors need to be refinished.  So he keeps convincing the group to bounce to another bar, which will be another one he will hate.  It seems the Ping Pong Ball is content spending more money and time on taxis than in bars.

5. The Stumbler.  He is blind drunk, falling over, making no sense, throwing up and falling asleep, but he won't leave!  If the bouncers won't do the right thing, sometimes someone in his group of friends needs to physically grab his pickled ass and show him to a cab, and usually tell the cab driver where he lives and maybe pay him (as it doesn't seem as if he is capable of doing anything on his own at this point).  Once everyone has had a good laugh and stored up enough stories to thoroughly embarrass him the next time you all get together, it will be well worth it to send this man home and absolve yourselves of babysitting duties.

4. The Inescapable Bad Conversation Guy: He has honed on you.  Yes, he has chosen you to share his wisdom of a particularly boring topic, be it to which route to take to shave 3 minutes off your commute, who to draft in fantasy football, or how to totally own the chumps in your condo association.  You have tried going to the bar to get a drink and going to take a pee, and you really didn't have to do either one - you just wanted to get away.  But he will keep finding you because he has you pegged as someone too nice to tell him to please put more beer in his mouth and make less boring words come out of it.

3. The Crop Duster.  The drinks are flowing, the music sounds good, everyone is looking beautiful, but suddenly there is the foul smell of rotten eggs blasting out of someones diseased intestines, and everyone is pulling their shirts over their noses, clearing out an entire section of the bar as fast as possible.  And the worst thing about the Crop Duster is that he never owns up to it, so you could be talking to someone and will have to convince him/her that it wasn't your own putrid ass that just unleashed hell.

2. Fishhooks in the Pockets/Alligator Arms.  You're out with all your friends, and every time it's this guy's turn to buy, he is sneaking outside for a smoke, to the men's room, or anywhere he and his wallet won't have to get involved.  Or better yet, he wants $12 craft beers all night, but when it's his turn, it's Bud in cans all around for his men.  What a swell guy!  

1. Dude Thinks It's Roadhouse.  Some guys out there don't feel their night is complete unless they have gotten into a fight, and it doesn't matter what it's about.  Sometimes it's insane jealousy, others it's about who's sports team is better, but It could be an argument about something as stupid as Mac VS PC, Star Trek VS Star Wars, or "Little Mermaid" or "Lion King."  What matters is that they are finally going to get to punch someone in the face and possibly get arrested, where they could very well land in the same cell as the guy they fought and kick back up that "Little Mermaid" debate and ring the bell for round two.  Listen, pal, you'll never be as cool as Dalton in "Roadhouse," you'll never rip out a throat, but you will either land in jail, get beat up by four bouncers, and have to explain your shiner at work on Monday.  So just relax and drink your beer, maybe try some yoga or something, and put away your dukes.

----------------------------------------

A) All this being said, I think I have been, I have been 7 out of 10 of these fellas, and sometimes more than one in a night.  But at least I'm conscious of which bar behaviors are bad, and that is half the battle.  How about you?

B) Honorable mention goes the Overzealous Drinking Game Guy.  He wants everyone to play his drinking games, but we just want to have good conversation.  Is it possible he has nothing worthwhile to say, and that's why he insists on these stupid games?  And what's more, I don't need rules to tell me when to pour gallons of booze down my gullet.  I do just fine without being forced, so shut up, right?  Should this guy crack the top 10, and if so, who should get bumped out?

C) Any other additions that you would like to submit?

7 Quick Things About Lap Dances for Babies

Get a load of this.

Post by Chicago Memes.

Yup.  That appears to be a baby getting a lap dance.  

7 things I got to thinking about after seeing this . . . 

1. Is this something this woman does all the time, or was this an impromptu drunken activity?

2. Because the woman in the background seems less than thrilled about the whole thing, checking her phone and practically falling asleep, it seems as if maybe she has seen this song and dance before.  

3. The baby's wide eyed face is outstanding at the end of this clip.  It's funny because that's the exact look a man 20 years plus his senior gets in a similar situation.  

4. Is it morally wrong to give a baby a lap dance?  I suppose it's a little worse if this is his mother in the video.  Even if it isn't his mom, she would need permission from the boy's mother to twerk for him, right?  But should she give consent for such a thing?

5. There are two schools of thought about lap dances for babies.  1) A baby gaining that experience so young makes him a boss.  He's already ahead of the pimpin' game before he can even walk.  2) Getting a lap dance before you can walk is kind of like getting a BMW on your 16th birthday.  We want to give our children the best things in life, but shouldn't one earn such luxuries?

6. Now, okay, so you're going to shake your butt in a baby's face, but do you have to get your privates so close to the boy?  I mean the kid can practically smell it.  My reaction was like, "Oh, that is just wrong."  But then when she kneels down and her but is inside the baby device with the kid, that's when it gets over-the-top creepy.

7. I need the song from this clip on my iPod.  She shakes her butt exactly to the "oh! oh!" part, and the baby's eyes get wide right on cue for each "oh" as well.  Even if the morals and methods of passing time used by the people in this video are suspect and maybe criminal, the music they use to accompany their weird lifestyles is nothing short of awesome.  

What do you think, folks?  Leave me a comment if you are pro, anti, or undecided about baby lap dances.  

Is It Nice Out?

Doing laundry isn't so bad when you have access to weapons-of-mass-time-wasting like kindles, iPods, and smart phones.  With my laundry machines around the corner of my building in my complex of apartments, it's really not worth going all the way back up to my place through the snow, so I just hunker down there and get it all done at once.  And it's pretty enjoyable when I can listen to retro rock guys from Germany with big beards, text three or four friends, stalk 6 or seven others on Facebook, and read a book about a messed up Italian family in the Bronx on my Kindle.  All at once!  Plus the sound of the machines running (at least what I could hear over the amped up and distorted guitars) can be really relaxing.  

I was certainly feeling at ease sitting down there doing all those activities, but I was also a little cold, and oddly just in one area.  My penal area.  So acutely cold in fact that I had to look down to see why, and that's when I saw my dingus dangling out of the fly of my "Dark Side of the Moon" pajamas and flopped onto my lap.  I tucked that sucker in as quickly as I could, but would if someone came down there before I could do put it away?  My neighborhood is by a big University in Chicago, and let's say a young coed came down there to see that?  I could never explain that it must have just slipped out when I crossed my legs, which I'm guessing is what went down (or what came out).  No one would believe that defense.  

And what would be the nail in the coffin of my indecent exposure conviction and potential death sentence and/or loss of all wiener privileges was the that fact that I was wearing a Purple Mountain Unicorn shirt.  Let me explain.  We had a Zubaz party one night where there were like 50 people in awful Zubaz pants and jackets like the one seen below.  My good friend, Oates, found that when you search for Zubaz on Amazon.com, for whatever reason the Purple Mountain Unicorn shirt is on like the second page of the search.  Try It!  Oates decided this would be a good accent, or perhaps more his centerpiece.  Southie and I thought it would be hilarious if he walked into the place to find us two wearing the same awful shirt, and here we are with our faces blurred out to protect our identities (read dignities).  

If I ever could explain why I was lurking in the corner with my pilly-packers flapped over my jammies, after anyone got a good look at this shirt, there is no way in hell anyone would believe the donger out was a mere coincidence.  Only a real deranged pervert would wear this in public.  

Behold.  Three guys in bad shirts.  

I wanted to tell a story that a friend told me once and share it with you all because it's really funny, but first I had to check a few things:

A) Have I already told it?

No.  I ran a search of couple of key words, such as couch, and surprisingly I haven't put this one down yet.  

B) Does the friend and story teller have a name that I have assigned him on my blog that I should use?

No.  But this triggered me finding a bunch of other people I have given blog monikers, some of which have had inconsistent spellings, wording, or all together different names over the years.  So then I spent the better part of an hour going around making the names of these dudes (read drinking buddies) consistent.  I then created a word document that I can reference in the future to avoid any more mishaps.  Turns out that I have at least 16 people with blog names, and some of these folks I really need to reconnect with.  

Anyway  

On with the story . . .

This friend of mine told me a story about a time he got lucky one night and took a young lady from the bar back to his Lakeview apartment.  They started fooling around on the couch, and soon their clothes were mostly off.  They were in a position in which he was sitting on the couch facing into the living room, and she was riding him on top facing the wall.  Suddenly, my friend becomes aware that she is magically tickling his bean bag somehow, but why was her hand so soft?  And so wet?  He then looked back to find that his dog was lapping away at his balls.  He laughed, shooed him away, and was kind enough to tell his good buddies this heart warming/ball warming story.  I hope you enjoyed this tale as much as I did, but somehow I doubt that is even possible.

I have a bit of a situation here.

A friend sent me a text with a video attached of a woman's ass shaking to the beat of a rap song, moving each cheek to each beat.  Then the person turns around to reveal a young white kid who says "Oh, you're gay as hell!"

I responded with what I thought was "Looks like Bieber is having fun in jail."  Because the kid looked just like Justin Bieber.  Not my funniest joke, but whatever.

But what autocorrect sent was "Looks like BELIEVER is having fun in jail."

A number I didn't recognize called, but because I was expecting a call from the rental car place, I picked it up.

An angry Black man was on the other line.

Him: "You call me?"

Me: "Uh, no."

Him: "Well someone texted from this number."

Me: "Maybe I responded to a group text or something?"

Him: "Uh huh.  Yeah, right."

And he hung up.

Then I got two calls from another random number.  I didn't answer.

You see, this friend of mine texted that video to tons of people, and my response went back to all of them, and it seems that on some of their phones, my response came unconnected to the video text.  So these Black fellas are wondering who in the hell I'm talking about that is in prison.

I responded to JUST the sender and said "I mean Bieber" but it's already too late.

Damn you autocorrect and phones that don't group responses of texts together, or whatever.  And damn you Justin Bieber.  Why do YOU get a pet monkey and I just got angry Black guys all over Chicago that want to kill me.

The Microwave

I was talking with a coworker the other day, and he told me about a woman he knew overseas (which I assumed meant when he was in the military) called The Microwave.  She was really attractive, always ready to do the deed, but nobody dared touch her.  At least not more than once because she had a burning case of venereal disease - and it was hotter in there than a microwave.

However, there was one guy who got with her three times knowing his pee-pee would hurt and he would have to go to the clinic and get shots.

Well, you know how the saying goes, right?

Burn me once, shame on you.  

Burn my wiener twice, shame on me.  And my wiener.

But burn me three times, and . . . God dang it, my thing burns!

"And for God's sakes, don't shag The Microwave again!"

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.

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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?