Friday Video Fun - Special Holiday Edition

My family is fucking crazy, I am ready to implode here with all these loud, crazy people around. I wanted to take a break from these crazies with whom I share a gene pool, so I started to watch some YouTube stuff and realized, "hey why not carry on the long standing, three-week tradition of Friday Video Fun?"

(Seriously, any suggestions on the name, before this one gets stuck? Is it too late already?)

There is a whole series of these on YouTube, they're called Drunk History. I am really nerdy and love to read about history and to learn things in general (which also makes me the smartest fucking person that you don't know.) So when someone emailed me one of these videos I was hooked - I think these are hysterical. This one is one is probably my favorite.

Enjoy.




Actually, fuck it. It's a holiday weekend. So let's make this a special edition of Friday Video Fun. Here is another from the series, one of my other favorites.

Happy Thanksgiving

Today is a special day where we remember and celebrate the arrival of Christopher Columbus at the White House and the feast with George Washington, Abraham Lincoln and the Native Americans. I hope you are celebrating today by eating until you get dizzy; which is how we celebrate now - to remember how the Indians felt when we gave them smallpox. 

Happy Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving Tearfest

Well folks, I am leaving early tomorrow morning to fly to my sister's house in Colorado for Thanksgiving. Which means - not that anyone will care or even notice - I won't be writing anything on here until at least Monday. Given how infrequently I've been posting on here in the past two weeks or so, with work and the face thing having me so busy and bleeding and whatnot, I doubt that will be a problem for any of you. 

The good news is that when I do come back I should have something pretty interesting to write about. I guess there's a first time for everything. 

Thanksgiving with my dysfunctional family is always, um... interesting to say the least. And by interesting I mean stressful and awkward. For the past few years both of my (divorced) parents have made it a habit to tell my sister she is hosting and then they both come to the "neutral ground" along with the rest of the family to celebrate as a family and to help us all remind ourselves and one another why we all live in different states; and why all of their kids left Minneapolis immediately after high school (and for those of you who don't already know, Minneapolis is cool as hell, it's probably my crazy parents that made us all leave in case that wasn't clear.)

For the past three years we have been doing Thanksgiving at my sister's place. Which for a number of reason is great: My sister is fucking awesome, so are my brothers, and even my parents, I get to see just about my whole family (although this year no older brother and fam, bummer) nephews, nieces and all, and I get to hang out with my parents for finite period of time. All good stuff.

While everyone has a tradition at holidays like this, my family's tradition is more fun than most. Every year at thanksgiving at least two people end up fighting with one another and consequently in tears - sobbing, I mean. Kind of crying is not what goes on here.

To make an uncomfortable and awkward situation even more fun my sister and I have, for the past two years, placed bets on who will be the first one to cry at the table. As well, we bet on who will be the first one to yell something horribly obscene at another family member. 

This year we have some additional players: partner, aunt, cousin, and fiance all of whom should only add to the already fantastic tension. I can't wait. There might even be crying before the turkey is done cooking. 

Which means I am totally gonna win some money from my sister this year. Hooray for dysfunction and gambling. 

Everybody please send me some good travel vibes, I have to try and fight NYC/Long Island traffic to get to the airport tomorrow morning and then deal with flying out of a busy and already slow and super lame airport. 

Have a great Turkey Thursday; eat until you're dizzy and take no prisoners!

Contagious Band-Aid Face

Um, yeah, so those of you (or both of you) who read this blog may be aware that I had a tough week last week. I did, it's true. And it has to do with a few things, I think. First of all, I didn't see any boobies all week. I didn't see boobies until the weekend had technically started.

Strike one.

I also decided I needed to take a little break from drinking last week. I have been drinking a lot lately - as in I cashed three big bottles of vodka at home, solo, in two weeks; not including weekends (I know, I know, nice life dude) - and I felt like the best thing for my stomach would be to take a solid week off of the hooch. You see back in May I was diagnosed with several bleeding stomach ulcers. So the whole drinking thing is kind of... Well, I don't need to be drinking multiple liters of vodka per week. Let's just say that.

Oh, the ulcer thing? No big whoop. I had these weird pains that felt like hunger pangs or indigestion for a few weeks. Then they turned into a light stabbing pain for a few weeks, and for another three weeks or so I had severe, sharp stabbing pains for most of the day that would leave me doubled over, gritting my teeth and clutching my side for almost my entire waking day. What did the doctor say? Pffffftttt, what kind of self respecting man goes to a doctor for a little stomach cramp? Not me, that's who. Until five of my friends tried to pick me up off of my bed (where I was gripped with pain and holding my stomach with my teeth tightly clenched) and put me into a car to go to the emergency room.

In Brooklyn.

For a stomachache.

Needless to say, I did not go to the emergency room that day. I had to promise my friends that I'd to go to the doctor the very next day though. My physician happens to be a stomach specialist (that's a gastroenterologist for all you non-laypeople out there, since I'm sure there are at least a few doctors who read this), so he scoped it with a tiny camera snake and told me, "it looks like a war zone down there."

Sweet. Thanks doc. That's exactly the kind of reassuring statement I was looking for.

The ulcer was perhaps due to my mild (excessive), recreational (habitual), infrequent (daily) use (abuse) of alcohol (by the way, are you guys aware that drinking 6-10 beers a day and maybe more on weekends, constitutes drinking "a lot"? I know! I was just as shocked). Other contributing factors may have included drugs (check!), stress (girlfriend troubles were just starting around this time), and diet (I gained like 50 pounds in my first 6 months in NYC by eating Thai food and pizza everyday. Apparently fairly acidic foods. Who knew?).

But I got off topic a wee bit here. So, last week, riiiigggghhhtt...

In addition to not drinking all week (I picked the wrong week to stop drinking), I had a cyst spring up under my ear.

Strike two.

Jesus H this is getting to be like a medical history report, eh? Sorry, but this is my life right now.

For those of you who have never had a cyst right there on your face, it feels like a white hot poker searing into the soft, sensitive skin right where your face meets your ear, only with more pressure from the inside and even more painful than you are imagining it to be right now. Seriously. The little fucker went from non-existent to about the size of a softball (not really) in like a day. A Saturday. Remember how I said I wasn't into emergency rooms in Brooklyn? Yeah, well try and go see a doctor on a Sunday. I waited until Monday to see my doctor who had to cut the bastard cyst open to drain it (still hungry?). And believe it or not: That. Shit. Hurt.

A lot.

Strike three.

So Monday I dealt with that. By the time I made it home from my doc's office which is way uptown, I was very out of it from the pain killers (the sweet, sweet painkillers). I had like 40 emails to deal with and had to spend my afternoon working from home, trying to sound like I know what I'm talking about. Not so much.

Tuesday I was extremely busy after missing most of my day with the face-infection from hell; I played catch up and tried all day not to enjoy, er, eat any of the painkillers as I again needed to sound like I knew what the fuck I was talking about. Which is hard enough as it is when you can barely construct basic sentences in English. I made it through Tuesday only popping pills towards the end of my day. Fine. But now I hadn't been to the gym in a few days which Uncle Ebenezer doesn't feel good about doing (or not doing, as it were).

Meanwhile my jerk off roommate who works from home as a clothing reseller or some sketchy shit was in Brazil relaxing on the beach with his girlfriend, drinking coconut drinks and probably humping in the sand laughing about how lame it would be to have a cyst on your face and to not be on the beach in Brazil in November. Being the stand up guy that I am I said (before Hell Week started) that I would take care of processing, packaging and shipping some orders for him while he was away. So I had that to look forward to every night when I got home, swollen face and all. More work.

Wednesday I had an awesome surprise meeting with an agency I just started working with and instead of being the one or two dudes I thought I was meeting with, I got to meet an entire team of people and give (an impromptu) presentation that I didn't know I was giving. With a fucking bandage on my face.

Awesome.

Thursday. Oh man, Thursday was great. On Thursday I overslept - like WAY overslept and rolled into the office pretty (read: really) late. (I was in one of those funk moods too right from the giddy-up and it took me like a week to decide what to wear - sweater vest or no sweater vest? I went with the vest, this turned out to be a decision that would haunt me later.) Which isn't too abnormal for me, but I was LATE, late this day, my friends. About three minutes after I sat down at my desk I decided nope, no sweater vest (Indecision is going to be the name of the movie they make about me after my trial, conviction and imprisonment). In removing my stupid, green sweater vest that took me, no shit, fifteen minutes to decide whether or not to wear out of my house I pulled out the stitches in my face.

Let me repeat that. I pulled the stitches out of the extremely painful wound on my face with my sweater.

Awesome. I don't know about you, but I love bleeding at work and having people say, "oh man, are you okay? Are you sure? You're bleeding."

I gave up at that point. In addition to having an already overloaded week, full of business (ha - that was supposed to sound like 'busy-ness', I am so having a lexiconal epiphany right now, wow) and being overloaded with work I was fortunate enough to deal with the painful fucking cyst/open wound on my face, working through the day on or jonesing for painkillers (I still am by the way, so if you have some email me. I ran out), walking around with a swollen face and bandages/band-aid on my face (not in a cool way like Nelly either, more of an overlapping the bottom of the ear and onto the cheek kind of look - so not hot). As well, some shit kind of hit the fan at work at the end of the day on Thursday. (I'm not getting into work details on here because I already got fired from a job for going on TV and talking about humping that midget in the elevator at my old job.) Let's leave it at: Things went bad with business towards the end of the day.

I swear to you it was the closest I have ever been to actually crying at work. Ever. Horrible week. And it was only Thursday.

And still no drinking. Why I did that to myself, I have no idea.

Strikes four, fi- fuck it. Ballgame.

Friday wasn't actually that bad. We did a pot-luck thing for Thanksgiving at work; tons of food, relaxed kind of day, lots of desserts after not being in the gym all week. Solid day. I hit the gym after work (for only the second time in a week), went home, saw some boobies, watched a movie and went to bed pretty early. I stayed horizontal for most of the weekend. Seriously, I said I was going to sleep all weekend and forget my week and I did. Saturday I was horizontal on my great futon couch and watched college football all day. I did not even open the door of my apartment. The biggest distances I covered the entire day were from the bedroom to the couch, and from the couch to the bathroom. The most effort I put into my whole day was making myself breakfast (toast) and hitting the jump button on the remote to go back and forth from football games.

(Oh, did anyone see Oklahoma slap the pants off of Texas Tech? Wow. Why even bother leaving Lubbock guys?)

Sunday, my friend Joey made a big pot of sauce and homemade meatballs and we watched NFL all day and ate a great dinner to finish off the weekend. Something about Sunday and a big Italian meal just makes everything better, no? Plus, you know, Entourage on Sunday nights is always good.

This week is shaping up to be better so far. We got a short week, a holiday to look forward to and to be thankful for and all that shit, and more importantly my face is feeling much better. I am still dealing with the fallout from Thursday work-wise, but at this point I just want to find any resolution, and I think that will happen today.

This past week has helped to put things in perspective for me though. I am much more appreciative of not having four shitty days in a row - or for even just having one good day. The weekend was the most relaxing one I have had in a while, because I (successfully) tried to make it that way.

And most of all, I have learned to be much more careful when removing my sweater.

...That's what she said!

(I couldn't help myself )

Video Fun (or something)

I know I've been absent all week and I'm sorry. This has been the toughest week I have had in a long, long time. Work is still busier than it should be (I tried so hard to think of a funny metaphor for things being busy or busier, and I just couldn't. I am so beat down from this week, ugh) and on top of that I have had some health issues (I'm fine. Well, as fine as I was before). I am so happy that this week is almost over. The last four nights I have cried myself to sleep rocking back and forth in the bathtub.


I will post next week, or even over the weekend and let you know about how terrible this week was and why, but right now I feel like I have taken a 5 day ass-whooping from this one. Because, well, I have. And that means right now I simply don't have the energy to do justice in relating just how terrible and terribly painful this week was. I want to erase it from my life. Like in Total Recall, when Arnold Schwarzenegger (I had to look up the spelling) takes a "mental vacation" and it goes horribly awry and he... Nevermind, sorry.

Wow. Whatever.

I posted a video last weekend, and I think I might make a habit of putting videos up on Fridays. Mostly because I just learned how to embed videos (like reporters in Iraq) and look how much space it takes up! We can call it Friday Video Fun or something slightly less retarded (where's my helmet?). I am taking suggestions now. Seriously, you can't do much worse than that.

Anyway, have a great weekend. I will leave you with this video of an epic fail as best man. This is best with the sound on, FYI.



I just want to know what this dude's speech was like after the ceremony. Or what his next, say, 15 years will be like every time he visits this couple and has to say hello to his buddy's wife.

(I would just love to see the look she gives him every time he walks in their house. Forever)

Enjoy your weekend, I hope next week gets better for everyone.

But mostly for me.

Somebody Loves Me

Not too terribly long ago RB (Wicked Witch of the Web) tagged me with an award/meme thing of sorts. Now, I mentioned previously that she either was manipulated by me into thinking I am much more awesome than I actually am (I got another one!), or she is equally as immature as I am and has such tawdry and questionable taste that she actually does like this blog. Whatever the case may be, I am honored that she found me worthy of it and I would like to take this opportunity to say: I am way better than all of you who did not get the award.

Oh snap!

(I hate when people say that)

Before I get into the meme/award part of this I just want to mention Barack and Michelle Obama’s appearance on 60 Minutes the other night. Barack was, as usual, very candid. He was poignant and well spoken; he was humble and spoke with a sense of purpose about hitting the ground running when he takes office and starting to make the change happen. He touched on overturning some of Bush’s executive orders with executive orders of his own. He also mentioned he has been reading and trying to draw wisdom and inspiration from presidents like Lincoln and FDR (think Bush read much of either of those two?). This is an inspiring fellow who we should all still feel proud about electing President.

But what made an even bigger impression on me was the interaction between Barack and Michelle Obama. We've all seen Barack speak many times in the past two years, but I haven't seen a great deal of the two of them sitting together and interacting. They seem like such an amazing couple, such a strong couple. I would love to hang out with the two of them. First of all, she is a brilliant woman who seems as dedicated as her husband to truly affecting a positive change in the world. Everyone knows she is exceptionally intelligent, but in addition to being a strong, astute, smart and opinionated woman, she is also funny as hell. She was giving Barack a hard time and even sort of breaking his balls a little bit for fun. I think she is just great.

And now onto the award (I'm going with award here, it makes me feel like I accomplished something). The way it works is that I mention six blogs I like and six things I like.

I’ll start with the blogs.

1) Everything is Wrong With Me. This is the blog that started it all for me. It’s the first blog I ever read regularly and as far as I’m concerned, this is the funniest website on the whole damn interweb. If you don’t already read this blog, you should start now. I stumbled upon this blog when I trimmed my chest hair. I didn't shave it or anything weird (What? It's too late to not be weird?) I simply trimmed it when the hair from my chest began to tickle my chin. Well that shit itched like crazy for days after the manscaping debacle. I got nervous about what I had done to myself and Googled something like, "Chest hair trimmed, extremely itchy." This blog came up. I laughed so hard reading it that I almost cried.

2) Surviving Myself. A well-written, hilarious blog that is funny, judgmental and pretty blunt. He gets right down to the point: He is more awesomer than you. Good stuff.

3) Your Beard is Good. An anything but normal blog that is both hilarious and down for the cause. If that cause is being funny and/or donating money lately for every comment to help fight Leukemia.

4) Redacted. In just the past month alone this guy has written about math, Jean-Claude Van Damme, sex and bacon-wrapped steak. Plus it makes me laugh. A lot. I even LOL'ed in my pants the other day reading it. Go there. Now.

5) Cajun Boy in the City. A great blog about politics and tons of other random funny shit. As well, it gets updated like 5 times a day, so you can read it several times throughout your work day instead of doing whatever it is you should be doing.

6) A Blog of a Good Time. An absolutely ridiculous blog about all things fun. She is comical, convivial and back-slappingly hilarious. Plus, at least once a week you're guaranteed survival tips and some nonsense. However, she just kind of broke up with us because stupid grad school is taking too much time lately. Her triumphant return to regularly scheduled awesomeness is something we can all look forward to together now.

Honorable mentions go to all the blogs I have listed on my page (that's why they're there), they are all great, but I was only allowed to list 6 here.

Six things I like:

1) Music.

Music is one of my biggest passions in life. As some of you know, I spent many years of my life following Phish around the country and seeing live music almost every night, both Phish and other bands (in between Phish tours). I have since expanded my musical tastes, but nothing makes me feel like good music makes me feel. We all know that feeling that a song can invoke in you. And that feeling can be so dynamic - how hearing a song in a different place or time or context can create something really special inside of you or among you and other people. Music can be the soundtrack to your life, the support you need in tough times, and it can be the often unrecognized addition to a moment that makes that moment or the memory of it that much better.

Playing music is one of the few things that can make your brain shut off. In a good way. It is like meditation in that you become so in the moment, you stop thinking about all the stuff that normally clogs your thoughts. It's a way to really channel the moment and truly experience the moment for the now, for what it is. Another one of those things for me is skiing...

(How's that for a segueway?)

2) Skiing.

I grew up a skier. My uncle has lived in Taos, NM since before I was born and my family and I would spend a few weeks a year skiing there ever since I was born. Taos, by the way, is one of the steepest, most shredtastic mountains in the US. I started skiing there when I was two years old; as soon as I could walk, I could ski. I was a ski racer in Minneapolis when I was growing up, until I was a teenager and got too cool to continue to do so (there is something about wearing a one-piece, spandex GS racing suit when you're 15 that just doesn't scream to the world, "I'm cool and rebellious!").

In college in Portland, Oregon I worked in a ski shop and shredded the gnar at Mt. Hood, where I got my first sponsor. I moved from Portland to a tiny little ski town in Colorado and was an extreme skier/ski bum there for about 4 or 5 years before I got hurt, got fat and moved to NYC for a "real" job after finishing school. I would ski super gnarly terrain daily - steep, tight chutes, trees, and would spend as much time as possible throwing myself off of cliffs. There is something really cool about scaring yourself.

(See how much more you know about me after reading just those last two?)

3) Sleep.

Man do I love to sleep. If I could, I would sleep 16 hours a night and stay in bed until sometime between 10am-2pm everyday. I love that feeling of waking up in the morning (afternoon) and saying, "fuck it" and stretching out, pulling the covers up to my face and then staying in bed.

Conversely, I hate waking up. I am, however, sometimes willing to get up early for something really cool - like a backcountry ski tour, or for fresh powder, or for boobies. But I love to stay in bed and sleep, sleep, sleep. How can I be that tired all the time? I have no idea. Maybe I'm not. I just enjoy sleeping that much. I am actually going to take a nap right now. Well, no, I'm not, but I do love me some sleep.

4) Boobies.

Truth be told, I am a fan of a very nice ass as well, maybe even more so than boobies. I don't discriminate.

5) My friends.

You know how everyone says, "I have the best friends in the world"? Well, they don't. Because I do. My friends would gladly slap me just to see me cry and then laugh at me (what?). Most of my friends are those people I traveled around the country seeing music and partying with. Many of us live here now, in NYC, and we see each other a lot. But even for those of us who don't get to see each other much, when we do get to hang it's like we never missed a beat. We are all very close with one another and we are always there for one another - no matter what. More importantly, they are the funniest, most outlandish, wild, sarcastic, fun and utterly ridiculous motley crew of hooligans ever. They fucking rule.

6) Bacon.

Holy shit. I could eat bacon everyday for the rest of my life. Bacon is the essence of all things good and right in the world. I could add bacon to anything (bacon milkshakes anyone?). I think that bacon-wrapped anything is like adding an orgasm to a state of nirvana. I truly believe that bacon is made from magic. Not magical pigs, magic.

So there you have it - six blogs and six things I like. These lists were actually pretty difficult to put together. I could easily have come up with a less serious list that would have been less mature and more fun to read, but I felt like it was time to let you know a little bit about me (do you feel like you really know me now? I know, it's frightening for me too).

In listing those six blogs, I feel like I left out some really important people/blogs that I read everyday and that I love. So, if you feel like you should be on that list and you're not, well, you're probably right. Sorry. There are just so many great blogs out there that I went with the ones I have been reading for the longest amount of time. I still love you all.

I'm going to go make a bacon milkshake now.

A Little Video For You

I just cannot get enough of this video. 

I am kind of just laying around today, and after watching one of my current YouTube favorites again, I figured I should just go ahead share this with you.

It's a freestyle rap battle translated. I find myself thinking about or wondering if the guys doing the "translating" are freestyling as well. If so, I am extremely impressed with their lexicons and their skill in articulation. But I think they're reading the translations. But more than anything, I think this is just funny.

I hope you like it.

Enjoy.

I am a busy, busy guy these days

You know what sucks?

When you're so busy you can't stop working for even a minute to do anything.

When you're so busy you have no time to read all those blogs you love to read.

When you're so busy you don't have time to check your personal email.

When you're so busy you don't have time to write a real blog entry.

When you're so busy you don't have time to eat lunch.

(I'm hungry)

When you're so busy that on Friday afternoon at 2:45pm you start to wish it was Wednesday so you could get done this week all that you need to get done before the week is over.

(I remember not that long ago when, on Wednesday, I was wishing it was Friday. Oh man!)

Wow, I can't believe I just said that. No, I am glad it's the weekend, but I gots lots to do get done here in the next few hours.

On a positive note, it is almost the weekend and I have no idea how this week just flew by like it did. I feel like it was Monday morning like 15 minutes ago.

Also, about the change in layout...

Damn people, nobody likes the new look? The clean, white layout? I was really starting to like the white look too (is that a racial comment? No way dude, I voted for Obama, it's cool).

Bottom line is: You may see some experimentation - like that one time in college with those frat guys - but this whole white thing is growing on me (that's what she said!).

So you may not.

Blog Layout Again

Um, okay. 

I am terribly, terribly indecisive (see this blog's title/header, it's true).

So for the new layout, I am willing to be patient and see what people think. Because, as I said, I just can't decide for myself. 

So, what do you think? This one is called "minima lefty stretch". That sounds like a play that would get called in a football game, right? I think I'll leave it for at least a few days and let it soak in to see how I feel for sure. Or, well, how you feel.

Weigh in on it, please. I need your help (or at least your opinion).

Blog Layout

A little blog housekeeping, if you will...

I think I'm going to change the layout of this here blog. The current layout has been nice and all, but it was sort of a starter layout. Kind of like how my first wife will be. Attractive at first, and super, super easy; but I need something a bit more sophisticated now. 

I really didn't choose this one so much as it was the default background/color scheme/layout that appeared when I started this thing a few weeks ago. I am thinking of going with something a little bit more in your face. Like skulls and penises in the background (crossed penises instead of the crossbones). Or maybe something like a white background with a simple, clean layout or design.

With hidden, subliminal penises.

What is my problem? Grow up dude.

Sorry.

I thought about letting people vote on the new layout, but there are two problems with that. First, I don't think anybody really reads this thing - well maybe a couple people (and honestly I have no idea why) but the vote would really not be all that democratic. It would basically be me and one or two other people deciding on the new look (which, actually is fine with me you two. Let me know which one you like). Second, I simply am not patient enough to wait for people to see a new layout everyday or every other day and then wait again for everyone (all two people) to weigh in on the look.

So, to get to the point (I know, I already lost any chance at brevity here), I'll probably just change it tonight. And maybe again tomorrow or the next day if I don't love it. 

So to the both of you out there: I hope you like the new look if and when it comes. And if not, well, just deal with it. 

...Or actually, just tell me and we'll see what we can come up with together.

I've been busy; Random stuff

I have been stupid busy at work lately. A couple of weeks ago the guy who was above me left here for a position at another company. Which means I kind of got promoted.

But not really.

But kind of.

I have more stuff to do now, more business, and I will (in all likelihood) make more money this year; but I technically don't have a different title (well, same title only now it has "senior" in front of it. And I'm not even that old).

Anyway, for the past couple of weeks, this week in particular, I have been pedal-to-the-metal, insane busy all day everyday. The kind of busy where I lift my head up for the first time and realize it's like 3:30pm and I haven't even stopped for lunch.

My point is: I am awesome and look how hard I work and let's discuss all the rewards I deserve for being so magnificent at my job.

Actually, my point is that I haven't posted anything in a few days, due to my ballbusting workload lately. So, sorry about that, I still love you.

A few random thoughts for today before I go back to surfing the Internet and talking to my coworkers about which superheroes are likely the most promiscuous and if male superheroes go bald when they get old or if their superpowers exempt them from male pattern baldness.

Or before I start dealing with clients again, whatever.

(For the record I think Captain America would be the most promiscuous superhero. But part of me also thinks he would be more likely to be a really dedicated and completely monogamous boyfriendy type of superhero. So maybe it's somebody more like The Flash, because he's a pretty cocky and at the same time suave kind of guy. But probably Captain America; he has that whole high school quarterback vibe going on, and he eventually revealed his identity, meaning there was some mystery surrounding him at one point on his rise to fame, but now chicks can totally look him up in the phonebook. For women it's a toss-up between Storm, of the X-Men and Wonder Woman. Why? Because, frankly, those are the only two female superheroes I know of and they are both really hot and I just like to think about them in that capacity.)

Um, sorry about that. On to those random items.

1) The Kings of Leon FUCKING RULE. Seriously, how did I not know about these guys already? I saw them on SNL last week (which was a repeat, but hilarious and I hadn't seen it when it aired originally) and was blown away. Now I can't get over them.

They are like Hansel, so hot right now.

2) Last Friday after work, I went to meet my kind-of-ex-kind-of-not-sure-what's-going-on-now-kind-of-hanging-out-again-ex-girlfriend (who may or may not read this, so awkward...) out for a glass of wine and some tapas. The place we went was nice, a sort of Mediterranean-themed wine and tapas restaurant; small, cozy, quiet. We got there on the early side of a Friday evening and during the second glass of wine they dimmed the lights and lit candles. It was a nice, intimate atmosphere in a very grown-up kind of place. Then, all of a sudden, the music changed from softish, mellow ambient sounds...

To Bone Thugs-n-Harmony's "Thuggish Ruggish Bone", the 1994 gangsta rap hit that cemented Bone Thugs-n-Harmony's street cred for life among audiences worldwide and put Cleveland, Ohio on the map of all things rap. I kid you not.

And that shit was loud too.

The saddest part was that when they cut it off - and believe me, they cut it off pretty quick, since it didn't quite harmonize with the vibe they were trying to create in this place. (See what I did there? Harmonize? Bone Thugs-n-Harmony? Yessss!) The sad part was that there was an audible sigh of like, "oh man, I haven't heard that jam since 1996, how you just gonna stop it like that."

Well, the sigh might just have been from the two of us, but I heard it.

3) Recently RB, at The Wicked Witch of the Web, bestowed upon me the great honor of awarding me some kind of, uh... Award. Clearly this is another example of my mediocrity being trumped by my stellar ability to manipulate people into thinking I am awesome. Or she just has very questionable taste and simultaneously enjoys proofreading/alerting me to my atrocious spelling mistakes (thanks, by the way!).

She did though, present me with this award/chain letter which leaves me responsible for telling you all about 6 blogs I like and 6 things I like. I'll get to that soon. As soon as I can think of 6 different things I like (because writing "boobies" over and over six times would just be immature).

And we all know how mature I am.

Hitting on women makes you a douchebag, right?

I have never been one to approach random girls and hit on them. All of the significant girlfriends I have had in my life have either been introduced to me by friends or have been the one to initiate contact or conversation with me.

Yes, I am that awesome and really, really ridiculously good looking.

No. No I'm not. But anyway...

The other night my friend Joey and I were out his girlfriend's bar (where she waits/tends bar) watching football and drinking and these two guys came in and starting drooling over these two girls at the bar. They were acting so douchebaggy (its my word of the week, so deal with it), so cheesy, and just all over these poor girls. They saddled up behind their seats at the bar and looked, well, just douchie. They were trying so hard to look cool in front of these two women.

Now maybe these two girls (women, whatever) were out looking for guys to hit on them and they really enjoyed the whole scene. But maybe they were just out trying to have fun and talk to one another at a bar. Maybe they work with these guys and they all had planned to meet there and hang out while these two guys made their best attempt at getting crowned King of the Douchebags. But it looked like two pairs of strangers, two douchie guys and two hot girls.

By the way, if you guys are reading this, your crowns are available for pick up anytime.

But I digress.

I just am not one of those guys who can just slide up to a random lady at a bar and start gabbing away and try to bag her, because we all know the only way to bag a classy lady is to give her two tickets to the gun show (thanks Ron!) and I have muscles like a six-year-old girl. A really hairy, fat six-year-old girl. With no muscles.

I guess I have never considered myself witty enough or attractive enough to approach exceptionally attractive women at random - but let's face it, I am definitely witty enough! Oh!

No. No I'm not.

I just feel like women (women worth talking to anyway) are smart enough to see through that whole thing. Particularly in NYC, how many guys approach a cute girl or cute girls at a bar in one night? So many. Too many. Well, it looks like a lot anyway.

But do they care? Do women go out looking for that? Is that something they enjoy? Is that just all part of the game?

(That is a legitimate question; so if you are a female and have the answer, or any answers, please feel free to fill me in. I am so clueless)

Because if so, that whole 'the ones worth talking to are too smart to deal with it' thing is so out the window and I have been making that excuse for ever because, well, I am just a wimpy little introverted bitch who is afraid of women.

Well, wait. That's actually kind of true, I am afraid of women. They are so scary with their boobies and the power to say "no" to bad sex with overweight, hairy dudes. Fucking bitches.

I don't know. I just feel like you have to be so egotistical to approach a woman like that (or maybe you just have to be cool enough, which clearly I ain't). Maybe it's my wholesome Midwest upbringing (or the fact that thus far in life I haven't had to try that hard and have been blessed with really cool and unbelievably disproportionately hot girlfriends who have all tried harder than me to meet. Seriously, I am so awesome. You guys want to come over and look at pictures of me and talk about how awesome I am?) but I just feel like any woman worth meeting has to be above all very intelligent; but also super hot, funny, and willing to try anything sexually (read: have sex with me). Well, three out of four anyway.

And any girl who is smart enough to be fortunate enough to date me (and enjoy the 3-3.5 seconds of frustrating sex 2-9 times a day) has to be too smart to see through the whole 'getting hit on by a random dude at a bar' thing. Right?

Now, don't get me wrong. I have done it, I have hit on girls before, I am a guy after all. A dirty, sex-fiendy guy who cares more about getting... nevermind.

A few times in my life, mostly when I have been very, very, very drunk I have done it. I have indeed hit on some strangers at a bar or wherever (women, smartass... Well, mostly). But I normally can't bring myself to do it. I am just that classy.

No. No I'm not.

I am probably just too childish and afraid.

The few women I have met at a bar and ended up dating all initiated the conversation with me (again, how fucking much do I rule?). And I don't want it to seem like I don't meet people when I go out, because I am usually outgoing enough to talk to people I don't know, women even, and have a good time with new people. Often. Sometimes. Occassionally.

It's the intention that counts here people. That's what I'm getting at. Maybe I have too much integrity (ha, I made myself laugh there), but approaching a random woman with the intention of anything less than pure seems so sleazy to me.

And by pure, I mean with the intention of playing checkers together and having apple pie - maybe some soda and having her home by 8:30.

Am I the only guy who feels like this?

I know, I totally am. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Do I totally need to man up and do it every time I go out? Am I missing out on meeting some really cool people? Or do I just feel like I need to approach the randos because other guys do it? I know I am on a quest for ultimate douchebaggery and this could be an important step in that quest, but I have principles here.

No. No I don't.

Wow, I am such a pussy.

Mullets

I was recently talking to my new friend Jossie over at Ramblings of a Semi-Literate Mind about mullets (seriously go read her blog, and then thank me for sending you there by buying me something she recommends). And I realized, not having touched on the subject here, I need to share something: I have a deep seeded obsession with mullets. A love affair perhaps. No, more like a very intense fascination. The strange way in which I am drawn to and enamored by this ungodly haircut is only trumped by just how fascinatedly interested I am in it.

Think about this for a second. Some hairstyles people have, they just have; either because their hair is straight or curly and/or they can only do a certain few things with said hair. Some people have hairstyles because they are going bald or because of a job, like how you always see clowns with a big red afro.

(Clowns, by the way, scare the bejesus out of me. I am crying right now just writing about clowns.)

But a mullet takes effort. Someone with a mullet went through a process of deciding he (or god forbid, she – oh ye of the “femullet” classification) wanted that look. He (we’ll just use “he” here or I might start crying again) actually thought, “You know what might look cool? Short hair in the front and long hair in the back. Yeah. Totally sweet/bitchin/kick ass. Gime a high five and another Miller Lite bro.”

This is a look that after deciding you want, you have to work hard to craft. To get that perfect blend of 80’s business and timeless douchbaggery is not easy – believe me, I have cut a few mullets into my own bouffant. As a goof, not for serious. C’mon. But more on that later.

And then the maintenance that goes into prepping your horrendous skullcover before you go anywhere. Aside from greasing your pervert moustache (which, let’s face it, most mullets have) you need to blow dry - but just the back! And then you need to generously apply volume-enhancing mousse to keep the coattails of your mullet firmly in place but still light and fluffy enough to able to be thrown over your shoulder whimsically with a flick of your neck. Freak.

I get it if it’s like 1985 and you play hockey or something. I mean, it was the eighties, everyone made mistakes (See: Members Only Jackets and the band Stryper). But now? A mullet?

These are also people who just want too much…

Who do you think you are? You think you can have it both ways? Business in the front and party in the rear? Really?

(Take, “party in the rear” out of context and whoa… Awesome, I know. And mature!).

Maybe it’s my science background, or the fact that I was really bored (or high) for a few years and had nothing better to do (or the ultra-maturity thing. Again) . But I spent the better part of my late teens and early twenties mullet hunting. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I killed and stuffed a bunch of real people who were unlucky enough to be rocking that haircut post-1995.

No, not really.

But I did take photos of many a mullet and kept a photo album of all the mullets I was able to capture on film. I still have the photo album, FYI.

My friends also participated and we had ourselves a nice little crew of mullet hunters. Bear in mind this was mostly back in the day when we were all following that wacky Phish band around the country, so we had the advantage of covering a ton of ground in a short period of time, and seeing some geographically diverse mullets quite often. Which is probably where the earliest forms of mullet classifications came from.

We would find mullets all over – liquor stores, concerts, malls, amusement parks, the south, Pedophiles Anonymous. Ok, I made the last one up – but only because I never went there, I bet that place is teeming with ultra-rad mullets. Seriously. And some sick moustaches too.

I just creeped myself out.

To get a quality photo of a mullet without them knowing was the key to successful mullet hunting. Most mullets are extraordinarily aggressive and can strike without much warning, blinding you with their hairspray before they attack and smothering you with their mullet hair. Icky. The trick was to find a mullet and get your friends to stand in front of or near the subject. Then you would pretend to snap a photo of your friends, but really the mullet would be the focus of the photograph. Clever right?

Well, we eventually took it up a notch when my friends had a party and we went on a mullet scavenger hunt at the Mall of America in Minneapolis (did I mention malls are great hunting grounds: food courts, As Seen On TV store, the stores where they sell those white trashy shirts with like Bugs Bunny and Marvin the Martian and shit, public bathrooms). There were prizes for best photo captured of a mullet, and there were even categories which I won’t go into detail about right now.

My team decided that to really come back with the best picture and win this competition, we would need to be IN the photo with the mullet. I mentioned most of these creatures are dangerous, remember? Well, being the brave team that we were, and me being the fucking outstandingly intelligent person that I am, we (more like, I) came up with a plan. I am still so proud of myself for this one.

We would approach the mullet and say, “Hey, I know this is weird, but we are all here in Minneapolis for a family reunion. And, well, we’re supposed to do this stupid scavenger hunt thing where we try and find people at random who look like members of our family. And, wouldn’t you know it – you look just like my Uncle Steve. Do you think we could get a picture with you?”

Well, guess who got a shitload of mullets to jump, willingly, smilingly into the photos with us? Yep, us.

Guess who won that mullet hunting competition?

Not us, actually. We weren’t the only ones with ideas of getting into the photos with the mullets, and one of the other teams had like a pro photographer or some shit. Whatever, it was still fun and I came away with some great pictures.

We got pictures of all kinds of mullets: Skullets (bald in front), femullets (female mullet), Kids with mullets (child abuse anyone?), Meximullets (Hispanic persuasion of mullets, also known as Mulletinos), Camaro mullets, Meth mullets, Nascar mullets. You name it. It was a very successful day for us even though we couldn’t pull out the win.

(I did have a close call though with one guy whose mullet was down to his ass, the Uber-Mullet class, and wrapped tightly with like 15 rubber bands. Amazing, I know, it looked like a tail coming out of his neck. He said no to the whole “can I take a picture with you” thing. I jumped next to him anyway and we snapped the picture. He looks very, very angry in the photo. But it was totally worth it, just for the thrill of a near death experience and being so close to an uber-mull at the same time.)

After years of mullet hunting semi-professionally and while I still had long hair but had decided to cut it, I thought I would sculpt myself a nice mullet for a while and see how it felt (in case you're wondering: really, really creepy). To really achieve a high level of mulletude, one cannot just hack away at his head fur in the mirror. No, I decided to bring in a professional.

Actually the “professional” was my roommate and he was begging me to let him be the one to cut it. But whatever.

We spent the better part of an afternoon sculpting the perfect mullet (oxymoron? You be the judge) and then shaving a killer handle bar moustache out of the beard I also had. It was a big day for hair removal, okay, I know. My friends took tons of pictures. They are hilarious - the pictures, not my lameass friends (losers) – the before and after shots are striking.

Well, the resulting “style” was more than I could bear for very long. But something did happen, and it only happened once. Ever. And it happened right after we finished the hair cutting, beard trimming and outfitting. I am not making this up...

A hot girl pulled up in front of our house to ask for directions to an intersection that I think my 3 year old nephew could find after a bong hit. My roommate (the perpetrator of the barbering) said, “Well, I don’t know where that is, but HE might.” At which point I proceeded to channel my inner douchebag, sleezeballiness and rely on the power of the mullet to talk to this looker. I leaned right into her window – mullet, moustache, sleeveless tye-dye shirt, gym shorts and all and lay it on her. Thick.

I flexed my muscles while pointing out directions, I threw my hair (mullet) over my shoulder a few times, I even asked her if she liked my “ponytail”. (I stole that from a mullet that referred to his mane as a ponytail.)

She laughed at me. Expectedly. But who is she to assume things about me and my luscious haircut/moustache combo? How did she know that’s not just how I look? I warned her that real mullets would not appreciate her laughing at them, laughing right in their face no less. And let her off with a stern warning and good story for her pals back at the “I’m directionally retarded home for women.”

The second mullet I wore was for Halloween several years later. It was essentially a repeat of the first (my hair had grown back out, and was again cut into a mullet. I added a variation of the handlebar moustache as well. See a pattern yet?). The difference this time was that I dressed in an old, green track suit and wore fake gold chains. I was “that guy” AKA “The Wad” for Halloween that year. Classic stuff. My girfriend at the time was so repulsed she could barely look at me, and wouldn't kiss me all night. Literally, it was awful. Not getting laid on Halloween when you're single, I get (welcome to this year. Zing! ), but when you go home and sleep in the same bed as your girlfriend who is dressed as Hot Pocahantas? Well that, my friends, is a recipe for some frustrated Blue Balls.

Anway, I figured I owed you guys a post about something near and dear to me, since the rest of this blog so far has been mostly about going to the bathroom and watching TV. I may or may not post pics, I’m not yet sure about how I feel about putting pictures of myself up here. Not than anyone reads this (or do they? Anyone there? I didn’t think so), but I am a frightening sight to see. If I put a picture of me on here, not to mention a picture of me with a goddamn mullet, it would scare people away and likely require several years of counseling if anyone looked directly at it.

So, next time you’re bored go to the mall/amusement park/public bathroom/trailer park and find some mullets to take your own photos of. But be careful, they do not like to be approached by humans.

Otherwise, get your friends to cut a mullet into your head while they take pictures of you.

Good luck and Godspeed.

Yes We Did

Holy shit. We fucking did it.

Let me repeat that: We fucking did it.

Yes we can? More like, Yes we Did.

I am so happy about the way the election went last night. I was very, very nervous about McCain actually winning and having him as our president; and even more frightening was the thought of Palin as VP. But we pulled it off. No we didn’t actually. We didn’t just pull it off. We slapped that old man and his unqualified, moose hunting, psychopathic sidekick. McCain didn’t even get 200 electoral votes. Wow. Which made me wonder: What’s worse than getting beaten in a blow-out? Getting Baracked.

McCain got fucking Baracked last night.

I mean, seriously. We even won Virginia and Colorado, reliable GOP strongholds. (Not to mention Florida, Ohio and Pennsylvania)

I have never felt such a sense of pride in American people. We stood up to the bullshit and voted into office a guy who (I sincerely believe) is genuine and believes what he says. I think he is that genuine, and I think he is going to go down as one of the best, most progressive, most unifying presidents ever. I really believe that he cares so much about this country and about making it better for all of us, even those who didn’t vote for him. He is going to unify the country, motivate people to work towards a brighter future and start us down a path that we’ve strayed far away from in the past eight years.

The past eight years with the Bush/Cheney regime have been so bad and have done such damage (I was going to say irreparable damage, but now I am hopeful we can undo some of it) to our country both domestically and internationally and to our country’s image, and in so many other areas that the feeling of relief and of pure hope and positivity with this new president elect is amazing. A breath of fresh air.

I am not even gonna lie about this: I cried like a baby last night after it sunk in and the fact hit me that Obama had won. During his acceptance speech in Grant Park, I was sobbing. Straight up sobbing.

I’ll leave you with Obama’s acceptance speech. Talk about a moving piece of oratorical wonderment. Whoa. If reading this doesn’t make you tear up just a little bit with pride or hope you are a cold, soulless, ice-hearted, son-of-a-bitch. Or you’re a terrorist. Or both, I suppose.

But seriously, read his speech below. And get excited for January 20th, 2009 when Barack Obama will be sworn in as the new President of the United States and things will really start to change for the better.

Good work people.





"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It's the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.

It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled - Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.

It's the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.

It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.

I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he's fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation's promise in the months ahead.

I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on that train home to Delaware, the Vice President-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last sixteen years, the rock of our family and the love of my life, our nation's next First Lady, Michelle Obama. Sasha and Malia, I love you both so much, and you have earned the new puppy that's coming with us to the White House. And while she's no longer with us, I know my grandmother is watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight, and know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

To my campaign manager David Plouffe, my chief strategist David Axelrod, and the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics - you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you've sacrificed to get it done.

But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to - it belongs to you.

I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn't start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington - it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.

It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.

I know you didn't do this just to win an election and I know you didn't do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime - two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor's bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America - I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you - we as a people will get there.

There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it's been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek - it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.

So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it's that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers - in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.

Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House - a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, "We are not enemies, but friends...though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection." And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn - I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world - our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down - we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security - we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright - tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.

For that is the true genius of America - that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that's on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She's a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing - Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.

She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn't vote for two reasons - because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America - the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can. At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.

When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.

When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.

She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that "We Shall Overcome." Yes we can.

A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves - if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:

Yes We Can.

Thank you, God bless you, and may God Bless the United States of America."

SNL

If you had told me a few days ago that someone would come along that would completely decimate the generic sounds of, I don't know, say, Nickelback or Bush, with an even less appealing and more generic sound, I would not have believed it to be possible.

Then I saw Saturday Night Live this weekend.

Wow. David Cook.

You, sir, have managed to create a look, a band, and a sound that are seemingly composed of the most cliché, generic, and stereotypically douchebaggy elements found in the lamest of lame. If for nothing else, good work on that. You have done that as well as can be done and if that was your goal, way to go man.

David, you managed to get your initials on your guitar to look cheesy (and, yes, people like Stevie Ray Vaughn and Eric Clapton had their initials on their guitars. But David Cook is not in the same ballpark as SRV or Eric Clapton. Shit, he isn’t playing the same game), and a lead guitar player with sleevey tattoos who rips that one bad riff over and over until you want to karate chop yourself in the throat. You also managed to fill out the rest of the band full of guys who dress like the most wannabe, hipster/indie kids possible to play songs that are (hopefully) written by guys in a boardroom. (If those songs are yours, then, um… well, bummer dude).

The whole thing is unfortunate because this guy actually has a good voice and could wail on some cool shit. Seriously. Probably. But the stuff he played on SNL tonight made me throw up a little bit in my mouth. Or maybe it was the three-day birthday/Halloween bender I went on that began it’s wind-down stage during SNL.

But probably the music.

Are all American Idol winners on this same path? Playing lame-o, generic, shitty music that seems pre-fabricated for an undiscerning pop audience? Who are the other winners and what are they doing now? Seriously, I don't really watch the show, what are they up to?

(He won, right? The other guy totally should’ve won – the kid who sang the John Lennon song? Amazing. And I don’t watch the show very often at all. But I did see that kid absolutely shred “Imagine”)

I also want to point out that after a long, long hiatus from coolness and funniness SNL has been on fire lately. I’m not sure if you’ve been watching much of it recently, but they have been just slaying it. The fake news and a bunch of the Digital Shorts (Andy Samberg is a fucking comic genius) in particular have been great.

Mark Walberg talks to animals? Ridiculous.

Tina Fey as Sarah Palin? Ha! I would actually vote for Tina. Not so much for Sarah P. Even though shooting animals from helicopters is just the sort of reckless behavior I would expect and generally encourage from someone more skilled than me at leading the world (which she isn’t) I have alcoholic friends who are more prepared for the Vice Presidency than she is.

Andy Samberg as Ras Trent? I peed on myself after the 400^th time I watched this. I think I did Phish tour AND went to college with that guy.

The Weekend Update (fake news) with Seth and Amy? Really? I realize that they’re in a banner year for material with the election and all, but they are doing a great job of making it funnier than it has been for a while.

Uh, Giraffes? This song was hilarious and it was actually BETTER than the David Cook stuff.

I also want to point out that John McCain was on SNL tonight and was pretty damn funny. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t vote for the guy. But thank god he hasn’t made a public appearance (other than that roast) that has been half as funny or as real as his SNL stint tonight or he may not be the underdog in this election. At least his moment of being a real, funny-type guy at the roast wasn’t watched by anyone who hadn’t already decided who they were going to vote for. McCain tonight was funny; he made fun of himself and was apparently pretty cool with this. That being said, vote for Obama on Tuesday. Or else. That’s real. We will all be totally fucked with McSame/Palin in the White House.

In summary, SNL rules lately, David Cook is a douchebag, and McCain is still a douchebag, but slightly less of one (in my opinion) than he was a yesterday.

Say hi to your mutha for me.