Thursday, December 29, 2005
Draft #34
T-shirts, T-shirts, get your T-shirts here! The Hucklebuck factory outlet store is having a huge, end of the year, blowout sale and everything must go. T-shirts that normally retail at $79.99 can be yours for only $74.99, if you call now. These slogans are guaranteed to make your co-workers shit themselves on casual Fridays. The neighbor kids, post office employees, and family will all giggle in delight when they see the funny goodness displayed on your chest.
-(front) To the nerd convention...... (back) Wait, where's my inhaler?
-Gravy, is there anything IT can't do?
-Positively ready to retch
-My agent says I have potential
-Never mess with a sleep-walking samurai
-(front) I work for the man.... (back) And the man is pissed
-I never touched that sheep, I swear
-Debbie did Dallas and forgot about me
-I'm the best at bestiality
-I'm Jewtastic
-I floss for fun
-Not now baby, my tank's on E
-I survived a Harlem stabbing
-Look out, here comes Japan
-I ordered the poorman's wardrobe
-Mostly everything I want, ends with a J
-Figure skater by day, Fudge packer by night
-Toilet paper, I'm ruined without you
-Pee pee in the potty
-I dunked on Shawn Bradley
-Cowboys give me the creeps
-I made love in a Chevy van
-I need a vacation, or a reach around, whatever comes first
-Coffee makes me pee
-Hulk Hogan is my hero
-My brother never let me be Batman
-Lord, take me to Talladega, and step on it! (I'm going to make millions with this one, seriously)
-Marriage, seemed like a good idea at the time
-I can't read or write, but I can go all night
-Me ruv you rong time
-I'm booze battery operated
-Date #152, never knew your eyes were blue
Good night everybody!
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Draft #33
Over the Christmas break, I was reminded of a customer that used to frequent the gas station I worked at during college. This fellow's name was Mark and he kind of looks like Danny Bonaduce, the modern day version without the goatee. Mark has a disability of sorts, nothing he was born with I believe, but rumor has it he was involved in a car accident that messed him up physically. Mark is a 40 year old man that resembles "Timmy" from South Park, had Timmy ever attempted to get up out of his wheelchair and try walking. Mark is pretty self sufficient despite his disability, and this is assuming he has 56 hours in a day to complete his daily tasks. Mark's visits to the station would generally last 15-20 minutes if things went smoothly for him. Watching Mark walk was very, very painful. It's like there is a drunk puppeteer randomly pulling strings from above, each step a new adventure. His arms are always cocked in the position that we as kids would use to imitate retarded people, and don't act like you never did it, everyone at least did that karate chop across their chest while attempting to bite their ear. So with arms clenched/tucked near armpits, Mark would walk into the gas station on tippy toe and it was like he was about to fall with every step he took, almost a controllable wobble. He seemed to do all this without any kind of hip action, like a person wearing jeans that are just way to tight for them.
Now just to clarify, Mark is not retarded, he is severely handicapped. I don't want anybody commenting on how despicable I am for making fun of a retard, he is handicapped and Mark and I go way back, so yeah. When Mark wasn't rolling into the station in his rusty 91' Chevy Cavy, he could be found strolling around town in his tricycle, which I found to be an amazing feat for a guy that can't sign anything that resembles a word let alone his name on a credit card receipt. Actually, I have no idea how this guy is licensed to drive. His reaction time has to be absolutely terrible. I bet if you pitched Mark ten softballs and aimed to hit him with all ten, pitching at a slow softball speed, you'd plunk him everytime.
Mark, like a lot of the customers who frequented the station, was a creature of habit. Almost everytime he came in, he was there to get a 20 oz. diet Pepsi and a pack of Vantage 100's. Sometimes he would only get one of the two as a protest because the station down the street was selling his favorites cheaper. Oh wait, did I mention that Mark has a massive stuttering problem? Oh yeah, not only does Mark have the motor skills of a severely drunken Frankinstein, but he stammers like a 14 year old boy who just saw his first pair of live boobies (homida, homida, homida, hey-oh!). Mark is not big on appearence, so I'm pretty sure he's given up on washing his face after meals. I can almost picture Mark trying to spit out one of his numerous complaints with utter disregard for the weeks worth of crust hanging around the rim of his mouth, like it was yesterday.
Here's how a typical exchange with Mark might go:
Mark: d-d-d-d-d-a g-g-g-g-os Mewalke iz ch-ch-ch-ch-eaper
Andy: What?
Mark: g-g-g-as is ch-ch-ch-ch-eaper
Andy: Your rash is deeper? You've got a deep rash?
Mark: No (never seemed to stutter on the word no) M-m-m-miaukee g-gas is ch-ch-eaper.
Andy: The pharmacy said the rash is deeper? I have no idea what you are talking about. I've never had a deep rash before.
Mark: (Frustrated and pointing to gas prices on sign outside) g-g-gassss is ch-cheaper.
Andy: Ohhhhhhhhh, gas is cheaper. Yeah, we lowered the price just this morning.
Mark: (rolling his eyes and looking at me like I'm the retarded one) Yeah, I bbbet.
This example doesn't give justice to the degree this guy stutters. When he starts a sentence with the word "I", it's like watching somebody have a knife inserted into their belly before speaking. ah-ah-ah-ah-eye (his face clenched so tight it looks like he's trying to drop a 6 pound number two) spit flying everywhere. And I'm leaning on the counter, peered forward, with the hope that maybe if I stare really, really hard the words might make more sense, but they never do. I never really understood Mark's approach. If I had a stuttering problem like that, I would want to say as little as possible while at a gas station. But not Mark, he felt compelled to engage in friendly chit chat every visit.
After awhile, whenever I saw Mark drive in, I immediately walked outside (if another cashier was working) to meet Mark inorder to save him the trouble of walking in. He'd hand me his credit card and I'd ask him if he was having the usual, and he would reply with a yeah. I would then have to bring the receipt out to him on a clipboard so he could chicken scratch his signature on the dotted line. Mark would then continue to chat about stuff and I would nod my head as if I knew what he was talking about. This went on for months, maybe even a year or so, mostly without a thank you from his end of the exchange, and one day he asked a bold question. "Why do you come out here? I never asked you to." My first reaction was absolute rage. I thought to myself, what do you mean, why do I come out here? Cause it takes you half an hour to gimp your ass in and out of this place, you ungreatful cripple. Of course I didn't say that to him, but I did however stop meeting him outside, and from that day on, he would pull up to the front window and peer in like a puppy looking for his mommy. "Aren't you going to come out and help me?" said the look on his shit-eating grin. And to that I say no.
I actually felt bad the time he tried coming into the building and he fell between the two sets of doors in the entrance. A customer was nice enough to help him up, and I was glad I didn't have to do it. I'd a done it, but it was nice not having to. I guess all there is left to tell of Mark is the outlandish stories this guy likes to tell. Apparently his full time job is to apply to jobs, get rejected, and then sue the desired place of employment for discrimination. According to Mark he won an entire gas station in a settlement once. Riiiiiiight, guy can't wipe his own ass, but he operates a business, sure thing buddy. It seemed like he always had a court date to attend, and he even offered to buy our gas station, but he didn't think the place was worth two million dollars. And ladies, in case you think there is a chance that Mark is telling the truth and he might actually be filthy rich, you can check him out on the West Bend night scene, he frequents there too.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Draft #32
Tuesday night I was at work and roommate calls to alert me of an extra ticket he has for that night's Bucks/Spurs game. Lower level seats, don't mind if I do. Our seats were at the end of the aisle and about halfway through the first quarter, Jacque and ladyfriend finally decided to arrive. They stood hovering over us and proclaimed, "Thorry, you have our theats, we have the end theats." Whatever Frenchie, nice lisp I thought to myself. The guys in front of us had massive domes , so sliding over a couple of seats actually gave us a better view of the court, but the guy was obviously lying because the end seats were ours. So Fergie sits down next to me, Jacque's girlfriend I presume, each with cocktail in hand. Jacque, throughout the first half is trying to explain to pseudo Fergie who Tim Duncan and Tony Parker were, with little to no success I imagine. Fergie was more interested in things like, her cellphone, what she was wearing, butterflies, anything besides what was happening on the court.
I refer to this girl as pseudo Fergie because she had a lot of style, a nice body, looked like she had a lot of money, and she even had that pony tail where the hair lumps up in the front, it's kinda Fergie-ish if you ask me. But then there was her face. Mercy me, that mug was bah-root-all. Almost made me shiver just looking at it, like she lost a fight with a really huge wrench. Okay, maybe I'm going overboard here, she wasn't exactly hideously deformed, but the face didn't match the rest of her aura. And during that game a new word was born, a word to describe a girl such as Jacque's cutlit. A girl with an ugly face but everything else is in its place. Looks fine from behind, but she's got a face from outer space. So without further a-do, may I submit to you, the word, mugly (mug + ugly = mugly). Use it in a sentence you say, "Wow that girl sure has a great ass, but she sure is mugly." Maybe the word is already out there, but it's new to me.
Fergie was absolutely enthralled with the game and you could tell by the way she left her seat about four or five times. Sometimes she was gone so long, Jacque would turn his head around and peer up the aisle to see if she was coming back. Of course, she wasn't, and then it was time to pull out the cellphone to reel her butterfly back in. At one point early in the game a guy with a green shirt, who happened to be much better looking than Jacque, walked down to say high to Fergie. Now from what I could tell, Fergie appeared to be a very mild mannered gal, but something snapped just at the mere sight of this guy. She pushed Jacque aside and flung herself into green shirt's arms without blinking. "Oh my god, how are you, blah, blah, blah......" I was trying to watch a basketball game, so I really wasn't geared in to what they were saying. All I know is that she was acting like she was at a morgue the whole time, giving Jacque one word answers and acting very glum. But boy oh boy, green shirt really brought it out of her, she was as happy as a school girl and the two were standing in the aisle having a five minute conversation while Jacque sat in his chair looking like a chump.
The game itself, as it turned out, was a hell of a game. Maurice Williams and Bogut really saved our asses down the stretch. The game went into overtime and with 20 seconds left in the first OT, Fergie decides to leave again. She was probably sick of hearing Jacque repeat the same line over and over. "We'd only be down by two inthted of three if Bogut would have made hith free throwth" So the Bucks have the ball, Mo drives down the court, gets all the way to the rack, misses the layup, Bogut tips in the miss, tie ballgame (still no sign of Fergie, Jacque standing in aisle pacing, wondering where the hell she is). Spurs have the ball with 14 seconds left, Parker dribbles the clock down (Duncan already fouled out) and launches a potential game winning shot from the right elbow extended, and misses. Bogut fights to get the rebound, ball goes out of bounds with .04 seconds on the clock, Bucks awarded possession. The officials give the Bucks an extra .03 seconds, so there is now .07 on the clock, ball at halfcourt with Kukoc to inbound (still no Fergie, Jacque back on the cellphone). Spurs coach, Gregg Popovich signals to Robert Horry, who was in position to face guard Toni, not to play the ball, so he sinks to the 3-point line, giving Kukoc a clear look at the hoop. To this point, Mo Williams has been the clutch, go-to guy for the Bucks and the inbounds play appears to be designed for him. Mo started on the baseline opposite side of the court from where Toni was inbounding, went through a screen on the baseline and one near the short corner and proceeded to wheel around back up to the top of the key. Toni doesn't pass to Mo, rather opting to lob a pass to Bogut who had gotten behind the defense after the screen he had set on the baseline, and was positioned in the lane. Bogut caught the ball in mid-air, shot the ball while fading away, kissed it off the glass and through the hoop, sending the Bradley Center into a mad frenzy. Frenzy- a state of violent mental agitation or wild excitement, temporary madness or delirium, a mania, a craze. It was all that and then some. I got so caught up in the moment that I'm not sure what happened with Jacque and Fergie. I don't know if they ever saw the play or not, but may this serve as a lesson to all men out there. If you are on a date with a girl, and she leaves her seat to go to the concourse with 20 seconds left in OT in the middle of a 2 point game (and she's not pregnant), don't worry about it. If she doesn't get back in time, just go home without her, she is not the girl for you. And odds are, she probably meandered her way over to green shirt's lap.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Draft #31
Christmas is the time of year
To be overly nice and spread fake cheer
A time to stand in lines to purchase presents
Mom always seems to like that Herbal Essence?
It's not hard to get excited about trees and cookies
And holiday songs that inspire dance and groovy Christmas boogies
Office parties, drunk co-workers, and mistletoe
Leading to fuzzy memories out in the parking lot under falling snow
This quite simply, isn't my favorite time of year
I'm not a fan of Frosty or any red-nosed reindeer
My home is bare of lights and silly decorations
The flight is all but booked for warmer destinations
Ho ho ho, and a Merry Christmas!
Oh shut the hell up, I'm so freakin sick of this
Everyone so warm and so happy, and full of such spirit
If Christmas were a balloon, I'd shove a needle right through it
The Santa at the mall doesn't care about your stupid ass
He's doing community service for running over a bumb near a highway overpass
The bumb was in the way and he was late for work
So I, I mean he, nailed him with his car all while wearing a smirk
I guess that's why guys like me and shopping mall Santa
Can't stand to smell, listen, or even look right at ya
You little bastards and your lists can all take a hike
I hope you like goverment cheese, daddy's laid off and can't afford a dirt bike
Go deck the halls, and lick my sac
Here's to grandma's fruitcake giving you a massive heart attack
Please spike the eggnog with a quart of rum
And shoot me dead if you hear that song that goes pa rum pum pum pum
You can call me a meanie or even a scrooge
But wait, this just in, we've got some late breaking news
Christmas sucks the business end of a broom
And feeding the holiday corporate beast will bring us all nothing but doom
The earth will open up and swallow us whole
So stoners world wide, hurry up and smoke your last bowl
The end is drawing near, Christmas has become an episode of many disgraces
The wisemen never took out loans to buy extravagant neck.....laces?
I'm gunna do, what I do every year
Stay in my apartment and drink, until the coast is clear
I'm notting coming out until Christmas is through
Cause my name is Levi, a newly converted, angry Jew
Friday, December 16, 2005
Draft #30
It's time to take a seat and listen to old man Withersby rant about things he either dislikes or doesn't understand.
Oh, you better believe I don't like brussels sprouts. They belong to the mustard family you know. And I don't like cabbage. The nurses try to feed us that on Wednesdays and I tell them to keep it away from me, but they don't listen. "Shut up and eat your cabbage" they tell me. I tell them I don't have to eat the cabbage, but then they lock me in the closet, so I just eat the cabbage now. I don't like being locked in the closet. It's cold, dark, and scary. Oh they let me out alright, and I've usually got a surprise waiting for them. And I'll let you in on a little secret, the surprise usually doesn't smell like daisy's. Maybe that's why I don't like being locked in closets, it gets pretty messy in there. The nurses have to give me a bath, and I don't like it. They sponge too hard, and it makes my skin itch. I tell them to take it easy, hey, but they don't, they just keep scrubbing.
What? Huh? No, I don't like summer, it's too hot outside and the birds get too loud in the morning. I like to sleep. My roommate Ralph is always up early whistling with those damn birds and I don't like it. I tell him to shut his trap, but he doesn't, he just keeps a whistling like I was dead or something. Ralph is a real ass I tell ya. He knows I watch the Andy Griffith show at 4pm and he took the remote and turned on the football game. I don't understand football, too complicated. It was the episode where Andy caught Opie stealing Moon Pies from Anderson's drug store. I stole shoe polish when I was a youngin and my papa whooped me good for it to. And this wasn't one of those Disney spankings you see on the TV, this was one of those whoopings that leave you shaking in the corner of the barn for a few hours. Boy, papa sure had a sturdy belt. Forgot my name after one of his whoopings once, and let me tell you what, I never messed around with the chicken coop again. Kids these days have to be told twice, and I don't like it. Miserable brats!
Yeah, Leonard died a couple weeks ago there, he had that bronchitis. I heard he was coughing green. He lived down the hall, but I never talked to the fellow. He was a really good Bingo player though. I don't like Bingo, they make us go down there on Thursdays, or is it Mondays, who knows, but it's really crowded. Leo would play five cards at a time, and I don't like that. I only played the two cards, never more than two. Anything beyond two, and you're just there to show off for the dames. Not that Leo was really impressing anybody with that nose of his, looks more like a beak if you ask me. Anyway, the carpets down there are really clean and I heard they use one of them Hoover vacuums, but I don't care much for Hoover. Back when I lived with Margie, we had that, that, that, Oreck vacuum, the one that could lift the bowling balls. They don't make em like that anymore. No, no they don't.
Ralph and I were watching that millionaire show on TV yesterday and he got one of the easy questions wrong. After the first three questions, I don't understand one thing they're talking about, so I like the first questions best. Oh, what was that question about, it was really easy, the back end of a horse could a scratched that one out somehow. Ralph's really loud, so he shouts the answers out first like a shmuck, ugh, can't stand it when he does that all the time like that. Anyway, it was about something, like with the farm. It was asking about animals and noises I think. Or was it about crop rotations? I don't remember. Like I was saying, sometimes during Christmas like this, the kids from the school come here and they roll us out to the lounge area, and they sing these songs to us. I don't like these kids, most of them don't sing very well and they look at us like we've got jello on our heads. They laugh at us and some even point when Johnny falls asleep in his chair. He can't help it, he's got bad kidneys. Anyway, it's almost 8:30 so I'm going to hit the hay. And next time you do an interview sonny, tuck in your shirt, you look like a bumb!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Draft #29
I have an urgent consumer report to share with those of you who read this blog. As an apartment warming gift from my siblings I received a bottle of AXE shower gel, among other things. This was back in September and this morning I've finally started to reach the bottom of the bottle. I'm not sure what this says about my hygiene habits, perhaps the bottle is actually supposed to last three months, or maybe my weekly showerings aren't enough to keep things squeaky. In any event, I am here today to warn you, after reflecting on the last three months, that this product is an absolute piece of crap. I've done a good share of grocery shopping in that time and not once was I bombarded by a wild pack of women who wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes off of my freshly AXE washed body. Not a single instance of a lady hurling herself, parallel to ground, just to grab of piece of whatever she could get from my mansterior because the AXE effect was scrambling her brainwaves forcing her to act a bit more randy than normal. None of my date's mothers (this is assuming I was on a date) were undoing their blouse tops to try and lure me in for a quick "how do ya do" before daughter gets back from wherever daughter has been (then again, why would this date of mine still live with her mother?). No naked ladies walking into my shower, nothing. Don't waste your time with this stuff, it just doesn't work. This is a D-grade product that just doesn't deliver. Actually, it does kind of work, but I'm not willing to admit WHO it worked on because what this guy does in the shower is his own business.
Well after attending last night's Bucks vs. Heat game at the Bradley Center (thanks to some discounted tickets from the corner hustle man), it has come to my attention that I may have to rethink my Shaquille O'Neal nomination for the 2008 Olympics. I know Shaq is coming off of an ankle injury, but I had seen this team play almost a year ago to the date and this was not the same Shaq I remember. The Shaq I saw last year was dunking on people with regular ease and doing funny trots down the court afterwards like he was a sprinter who overpumps his arms when running, quite funny actually. Now maybe the Bucks are just a better team this year and I should be giving them more credit, but this year's Shaq was starting to look his age. Bogut swatted a couple of his shots, and Magloire threw his ass to the ground on one occasion resulting in a thunderous boom courtesy of the diesel and his massive trailer. The guy just looked big and slow and he was in foul trouble the whole night because the refs didn't have any trouble pointing out all his illegal elbow maneuvers. It was like watching an aged Babe Ruth waddle around the bases, it was utterly painful to witness. If his physical decline continues at this pace, he will be in no condition to participate in the 2008 Olympics. At that point people will be calling him the "Big Wheelchair", and this might be the first nickname someone other than Shaq will have given to Shaq. So Ben Wallace and Brad Miller, I want you guys to start stretching because we might need one of you two to step in if Shaq's hips grind themselves to a thick powder before then. But maybe this is just another case of Shaq needing to sweat a few pounds off, to work his way out of his usual early season form. And maybe, just maybe, we'll see Shaq once again tearing down backboards like a young spring chicken.
The Bucks may have lost the game but the night was not a total waste. Some of the highlights included T.J. Ford's alley-oop dunk (that little guy can fly), Antoine Walker airing a three-point attempt over the rim and hitting nothing but the backboard, and watching a female attempt a half court shot at halftime. And I'm pretty sure two gay guys made out while they were on Kiss-cam. And incase you were wondering, that was definitely not one of the highlights. I'm almost positive it was two guys, and if it wasn't, then that lady looks really manish on camera.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Draft #28
Remember the days when the term USA Dream Team used to mean something? Now a days the U.S. is sending teams over seas that should be more accurately described as USA "Well, this isn't a dream, just the best of the rest that could actually make it" glorified B squad. Somehow along the way, being chosen as a member of Team USA has lost its luster. The selecting committee shouldn't have to make more than twelve phonecalls to fill their desired roster. Procedure should go as follows;
Committee: "Hi Kobe, this is the USA international basketball committee and we're excited to tell you that you've been selected as one of twelve players to represent our country in the upcoming Olympic games in 2008."
Kobe: "Gee thanks, that is a real honor, just have your people send my people the tenative schedule breakdowns, and I will look forward to bringing home the gold for our beloved country."
Unfortunately, this is probably the normal response that the committee is given;
Committee: "Hi Kobe, this is the USA international basketball committee and we're excited to tell you that you've been selected as one of the twelve players to represent our country in the upcoming Olympic games in 2008."
Kobe: "Oh boy, I'd loved to, I really would, but 2008? Yeah I don't think that's going to work, I've got a lot of advertising spots to shoot that summer."
Committee: "We're willing to take the necessary steps to have those shoots rescheduled inorder to free up your summer."
Kobe: "Yeah dat sounds nice, but I become a free agent in 2008 and I don't think my agent would want me to risk any injury that summer, ya know, gotta pay them bills."
Committee: "Ri...............ght, well if you don't want to play............"
Kobe: "Don't get me wrong, I'd love to play, but.....you know.........."
Committee: "Well.........all righty then, call us if you change your mind."
Kobe: "Ah-ight!"
Both parties hang up
Committee guy: "Lousy son of a bitch!"
Kobe: "That was close, I almost had to travel the country playing an extra couple of months of basketball for free with the best this country has to offer..........boring."
I'm not sure what the committee has to do in order to convince players to participate, but let's try a little harder please. Give them yachts, cash, ho's, whatever it takes. I will put it upon myself to select the players that will be playing for the Dream Team in the next Olympics, and if these players all accept the invitation extended to them, this will be the greatest team on earth, period. No Stephon Marbury's or Allen Iverson's stinking up the international gyms with their selfish American brand of basketball. I have a plan, and it is a simple plan. Just copy the roster assembled in 1992, find a team that closely resembles that Dream Team and the gold will just fall on our laps. No more close calls with the Argentina's or whatever armpit countries that have been embarrassing us over the last few years. My squad will absolutely destroy all on-comers by 50 points like in the good old days, and we'll sign an autograph for ya after the game. Embarrassing will be a term reserved for when Team USA only wins by 25 points.
The Dream Team's centers in 1992 were Patrick Ewing and David Robinson. They were the two best centers of that era (with respects to Hakeem Olajuwon) and finding players similar to them is a bit of a task. True centers are hard to find in today's NBA since many of the current centers are merely power forwards playing out of position. Some centers possess the size of a Ewing or Robinson, but have nowhere near the same amount of talent. David Robinson was a seven footer that was a genuinely nice person with a good work ethic, strong post game, and even an outside shot to match. Does this sound like anyone familiar to you? Sounds a lot like Kevin Garnett to me, and that's why he's going to be my David Robinson representative for Dream Team 2008. Shaq and Yao are usually the two names tossed about when discussing the NBA's top centers and since Yao is Chinese, then the Ewing spot will be taken by Shaquille O'Neal. Alonzo Mourning actually reminds me more of Ewing, both attended Georgetown, both wore the number 33, both sported excessively long wristbands and had sweet flat-top haircuts in the mid 90's, and they both never won a ring despite being coached by the great Pat Riley. But the marketing department wants Shaq, so we're going with Shaq.
The power forward slots for the original Dream Team were occupied by Charles Barkley and Karl Malone. When looking for the league's premiere power forward, one needs to look no further than Tim Duncan. Not too many similarities between Duncan and either Barkely or Malone, but Duncan does have three rings and Charles plus the Mailman equals zero, so yeah, burn. With Duncan taking Malone's place, it is important to find a player that can fill Barkley's role as the team's intimidator, someone willing to throw an elbow through the chest of Javikes Smornokvik without caring about what others might think, someone to stir the pot a bit. This player needs to be able to play inside, play outside, hustle on both ends, and be just plain relentless. And the guy who can do it, will be none other than Ron Artest. Call me crazy, but I think he just might work.
The small forward duo for the original Dream Team was none other than Larry Bird and Scottie Pippen. Since Dirk Nowitzki is German, I couldn't even begin to think of another player that was white and deserved to be mentioned in the same sentence as Larry, so I won't. Scottie Pippen is a little easier to find a replacement for, a 6'7'', athletic, wiry, long armed, and can do a little of everything type player. If this can't be found in Tracy McGrady and Shawn Marion, I wouldn't know where else to look. (I would, but I wouldn't want to)
Michael Jordan and Clyde Drexler manned the shooting guard positions and no one could ever be as great as MJ, but Kobe Bryant sure seems to try to act like him. And since Kobe isn't too bad of a ball player himself, we'll extend an invitation to him as long as he agrees to utilize his passing skills. Paul Pierce reminds me a lot of Clyde Drexler, but Dwyane Wade is just too sweet to pass up. Besides, Pierce has a propensity for getting stabbed, and this Dream Team can't afford to lose any of its key components.
Magic Johnson and John Stockton orchestrated everything from the point guard position in Barcelona. Magic, a 6'9'' point guard with keen instincts, killer passing skills, the ability to play any position, and hell, he could even score if you wanted him to. LeBron James gets the nod for Magic's replacement, and I would anticipate a few posters being made throughout the Olympics from this guy. When thinking of a player to replace Stockton, I immediately thought of Steve Nash, but unfortunately for Steve, he's Canadian, an ootter catastrophe I tell ya. So then I thought of all the great white point guards in the league today, and Kirk Hinrich popped in my head. He wears the number 12, has dark hair, is white, plays the point, and is nearly the same height. Kirk, welcome aboard.
Chris Mullin and Christian Laettner rounded out the rest of the original Dream Team. Mullin, a white, left-handed forward who played for the Golden State Warriors, somehow made the squad over Dominque Wilkins. And eventhough I desperately would like to give the last professional roster spot to Jason Kidd, I'm going to stick to the blueprint and give the spot to Troy Murphy, a white, left-handed forward who plays for the Golden State Warriors. The final roster spot, according to the original Dream Team squad, goes to a player in the collegiate ranks. And although this player may become professional by the time the Olympics begin, I will select Adam Morrison from Gonzaga to round out the team. What's a Dream Team without a Gonzaganite? Gonzagan? Gonzaganer?
The Dream Team players traditionally wear the jersey numbers one through fifteen. I will also be in charge of handing out the uniform numbers and designating positions. #1- Tracy McGrady, starting small forward #2 Kevin Garnett, starting power forward #3 Dwyane Wade, backup shooting guard #7 Adam Morrison, twelfth man #8 Kobe Bryant, starting shooting guard #9 LeBron James, starting point guard #10 Troy Murphy, eleventh man #11 Tim Duncan, backup center #12 Kirk Hinrich, backup point guard #13 Shawn Marion, backup small forward #14 Shaquille O'Neal, starting center and #15 Ron Artest, backup power forward.
Mike D'Antoni will coach the team to gold with his run and shoot offense, piling up 125 points per contest. This team lacks absolutely nothing and I couldn't even picture a scenario in which this group came within 45 points of losing. U----S----A, U----S----A!!
Monday, December 12, 2005
Draft #27
For those of you who are very unhip and not "with it", may I present to you the Toy's "R" Us hottest toys of the season list.
1. Bratz Rock Angelz Tour Bus:
-includes working FM radio, horn, with headlights and taillights that really light up.
-tinted privacy windows
-six totally rockin spaces, like a cruisin lounge, chill-out loft, primpin station, and hot tub
-can be yours for only $59.99. This doesn't include the Yasmin and Eitan dolls, if you want to add these two loveable characters to your purchase, then the total comes to $79.98
What Andy got as a kid:
-The A-Team Van made from a nondurable plastic
-Murdock, Face, Hannibal, and B.A. not included (but do get purchased later in rummage sale years after A-Team is cancelled and no longer popular)
-doors welded shut, nonfunctional
-red spoiler broken off in sandbox incident the following summer
2. Dora the Explorers Talking Kitchen Set:
-includes five recipe adventure maps and 28 play pieces
-features unique colorful Dora styling
-a life-size Dora figure for cooking camaraderie
-featuring bilingual phrases, music, and sound effects
-requires three AA batteries
-only $149.99
What Andy got as a kid:
-Castle Grayskull from He-man, you know, the most mystical and powerful castle in all the land, its secrets left by the Ancients; many evil-doers have sought to obtain its powers in order to conquer all of Eternia. He-man of course being the sworn protector of the castle's secrets and all Eternia.
-Grayskull is what I asked for, but I ended up getting Skeletor's castle, one of the biggest disappointments a kid could endure. Castle later ended up clogging my toy chest and was eventually sold in a rummage sale.
3. FLY Pentop Computer:
-it's computer power on paper that comes from an optimal scanner that sees everything you scan and write on special dot-matrix FLY paper.
-its got a brain (a built-in computer processor) and its got a voice and even its own language.
-if you've got a math problem, FLY Pentop can solve it
-schedule anything and FLY Pentop will remind you
-it's basically a fancy looking pen that comes with its own special paper and it costs a mere $109.98.
What Andy got when he was little:
-I got a freakin Magna Doodle
-it's a great way to keep kids from drawing crap on the walls
-doesn't solve math problems
-it's like an etch-a-sketch with a pen instead of dials
-affordably priced at $14.99
4. iZ from Zizzle
-hands down, the smartest $36.99 you'll spend this Christmas.
-it's a great gift for the iPod generation
-twist it's ears to create new rhythems and tracks
-high quality speakers inside, eyes bounce and nose pulses to the beat
What Andy got when he was little:
-when I was a kid, I was living in the cassette tape era
-I liked this iZ character the first time I saw him, when he was called Teddy Ruxbin
-never had a Teddy Ruxbin, My Buddy, or an Elf doll
-did however have a plush Stay Puffed Marshmellow Man doll
-functions included: nothing
5. Vikings Fortress from Lego
-no explanation needed here
What Andy got:
-wasn't actually deprived of Lego's, but Construx were way cooler
-Contrux were more practical, I used them to make swords, nunchuks, cars, and spaceships
-Lego's suck
I shouldn't complain, I had a fantastic childhood and I never went without. But there are certain presents you get when you're a kid that almost make you want to cry as soon as you open them. My aunt once got me the book, Shiloh for Christmas, and I remember having to hold back the tears. Probably the worst present I ever got. For my birthday one year I received a Ken doll from my uncle Bill and aunt Donna. They tried to assure me that it was cool due to the fact that it was waterproof, and apparently not all Barbie dolls were waterproof in those days. The Ken doll came complete with a yellow Corvette, so I wouldn't look completely gay I guess, if I ever decided to play with my Ken doll in the front yard. I know I probably said something really smart ass-ish when opening this present like, "What is this?" And forget I just used a question mark there, it was more of a smug statement, like "What the hell is this, this is a joke right. Please tell me you have a Liono (from Thundercats) action figure stashed in your purse, or behind your back? I'm gunna close my eyes and stick out my hands and something a girl wouldn't play with, better be there in 15 seconds or summa yoos are going to be uninvited real quick." I was a little bastard and I'm surprised I didn't get slapped more as a child.
Feel free to share with us a present that ruined your birthday or Christmas.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Draft #26
Well the bad news is, you've just been convicted of first degree murder. You'll probably spend some time on death row, desperately trying to protect your precious backside from harms way. And unfortunately, you can't keep fighting off the bad men, and the next thing you know, you've been given the name sweet cheeks and you're currently in an exclusive relationship with an extremely large man who goes by the name of Bruce. Days slowly pass and not a single one goes by without you thinking through the various ways you might be executed by the man. But whether it's the chair, gas chamber, or lethal injection, there is at least one bit of good news on the horizon. Not everybody knows the exact moment they are going to die, and before you do, you will be treated to a bountiful feast fit for a king! In general, most people install what is commonly referred to as "limits" towards the amount of food one will allow themselves to eat in a single meal or perhaps even in an entire day. Some people, commonly referred to as fat or obese, have in most cases voluntarily decided to throw caution or limits to the wind and feverishly consume mass quantities of food while laughing in the face of consequence. But you, the convicted felon, now have the gift of no tomorrow. You can pig out on whatever you wish and do not have to deal with the ramifications that tomorrow might otherwise bring. No feelings of "what did I do?" or "Now I have to run that extra mile or two." You can set that conscience aside and just let it ride! Put the hammer down and crash the buffet!
But what will your buffet consist of? You literally have the world as your personal buffet and the man is picking up the tab before he sends you on your merry way. I have actually spent a fair amount of time thinking about what would be on the table for my final dinner. This isn't to say that I have plans of committing first degree murder, this is just one of those hypothetical situations ala the "if I had a million dollars" scenario.
When dealing with the prospect of eating a large quantity of food, it is import to diversify your food choices. It is sad how many times a death-rower bellies up to the table for his last meal and starts chowing down on a whole pizza because pizza was their favorite food. And sure enough, around slices five through seven, the taste of pizza starts to weigh heavy on the tongue and they cannot eat another bite. They don't necessarily feel full, but they've hit the point of no return and now they're frustrated their last meal didn't turn out the way they planned, and now it's on to the electric chair without having reached their full-on glutton potential. It's a hard lesson to learn when their is no second chance to rectify the mistake.
Being from Wisconsin, my final meal would have to include a heavy amount of cheese. In fact, my goal would be to hopefully have my arteries shut down before they could get their hands on me. The beverage of choice would have to be an ice cold Miller Genuine Draft, another fine Wisconsin product. The main dish really can't be described as such because it is basically a spread of fast food entree's. The first item on the board would be a large slice of stuffed crust pizza from Pizza Hut with pepporoni, mushroom, green pepper, sausage, and black olive for toppings. Next up is a grilled stuffed burrito from Taco Bell with beef and no beans. This becomes a critical point of the last meal. If item three were to be something of the same genre, ie a hot, greasy fast food item, then my buds may start rejecting the taste and the whole system might shut down. So that is why section three will include a pre-dessert, dessert. And nothing wipes that palate clean quite like an oreo mint blizzard from Dairy Queen, and since I'm going to die, may as well make it a medium (had this been a typical weekend splurge, I would have opted for the small and the meal would have ended there). Entree number four, a foot long hot dog with half warm nacho cheese and half secret stadium sauce, pickle chips and jalapenos lining the top, easy on the jalapenos, looking for a little kick, nothing too fiery. Numero cinco, lobster, not the whole thing, just enough to give me a taste (I've never had lobster). This may turn out to be a risky move, trying something new during your last meal could be devastating if you don't like what you're sampling. But given enough melted butter and lemon, I wouldn't anticipate lobster ruining the festivities. You guessed it, time for a change of pace again and thy name is turtle sundae cheesecake with a splash of milk to help wash it down the old gullet.
At this point you may begin to feel full, but remember what your options are, you could continue to stuff your face, or..........you can say hello to the grim reaper, your choice. I'm plugging on, with item seven, a double cheeseburger from McDonalds. The grease will help it slide down easily, just remember to chew, the stomach is starting to run out of real estate. I'm beginning to run out of entree's to think of, so from here on out I will take the sweet n' salty combination as far as it will take me. I will alternate swigs from my frosty A&W root beer float (in a glass mug of course) with bites from my bowl of restaurant style torilla chips with warm nacho cheese. At this point, every bite I take, I'm staring down the prison guard for motivation. I'm not going down without a fight, or without putting on a show. I will die a respected man, despite the fact I murdered a man for not letting go a my Eggo. (Did you notice cheese, butter, milk were apart of almost every item? Dairy farmers everywhere will shed a tear for me)
The honorable mention squad for last meal items; sub sandwich, chicken parmesan, wonton mozzarella sticks with marinara sauce, Reece's peanut butter cup, spaghetti n' meatballs, McGriddle sandwich, hashbrowns, and oranged glazed breaded chicken.
Did you know? A loyal Larry Bird fan, when sentenced to 30 years of prison time, requested that the sentence be increased to 33 years in honor of the living legend. Now that's a fan!
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Draft #25
This is a story about my days at the gas station, and a customer I got to know over the years. The customer's name was Ed, and every day Ed would come into the station to get his coffee and Chicago Tribune. Ed and I would spend anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes a visit discussing his beloved Cubs, the Packers, life, and whatever happened to be burning his britches that day. I was in college during my years with the gas station so my hours there were limited, and we only saw each other no more than once or twice a week (in case you were wondering why I had that much time to burn, each day he came in). Ed always played the on-line lottery games, as we in the business liked to call them. His game of choice was Supercash and he would dabble in the other games if the pot got really huge, but whatever game he played, he played with little to no success. In the four or five years I worked there, I didn't pay out anything higher than twenty five dollars to the guy. Anyway, outside of Ed's trip to the gas station and his semi-daily trip to George Webb for a fried egg, there wasn't much going on. The gas station was his only form of a social life.
I knew Ed from when he was 66 years old to about the time he was 70. He's a no nonsense guy who stands about 5'8'', slim in figure, thanks to the pack of Camel straights he smokes each and every day. The only family he has is in Ohio (a brother and nephew), and he's been living in an apartment his whole life by himself. He fought in one of the wars, Vietnam or Korea, my sense of history is absolutely terrible and I could research the dates right now, but I'm lazy and I don't feel like doing that. Ed never married, but I was told he dated two different married women for the majority of his adulthood, a decision he now regrets due to the fact that he has no offspring to look after him. He tended bar for a living, and I'm not sure what else he did besides that. He spends his lonely days at home no doubt, listening to sports talk radio until the afternoon when it's time to run errands, and then it's back home to catch the next ballgame on TV.
Ed has an ingrained hatred for the dental industry. He has false teeth thanks to an oral surgery that went terribly wrong at one point in his life, at the fault of the dentist I'm told. "It's ruined my life." Every year I knew Ed, I think his physical condition worsened. The guy is usually hacking up a lung for the majority of his conversations. He buys a twenty piece Chicken nugget on Monday from McDonalds when it's on special, and that will usually last him the week. And to top it off, he sleeps about four hours a day, in two different two hour increments, and sometimes only going with one two hour secession. He's as skinny as a pole, has no ass, a nice head of white hair, and a three outfit wardrobe. If necessary, a nine year old could pick Ed up over their head and slam him onto their bent knee, breaking Ed in half, that's if he's not done in by a swift breeze and a patch of ice, first.
Ed's had a couple of visits to the hospital during the time I knew him and each time he escaped the clutch of it's healing grip, only to have been diagnosed with pneumonia or something unfatal. We at the station, weren't disappointed, but we all kind of thought that something has to be seriously wrong with this guy. But alive he remains to this day, at least to the best of my knowledge, cheating death every step of the way. The crux of this entry lies in the meeting we had in my final year at the station. Ed stopped in like he always does, and the story he had was a little hard to believe. Apparently Ed's apartment manager was stealing his mail, and Ed was completely convinced of this. The motive? Not exactly sure. But according to Ed, the manager somehow knew that Ed received his meds in the mail, and this was the manager's way of sticking it to Ed, "There, try to survive without your precious medicine, old man!" So Ed's like, "Andy, I gotta get out of there, I don't think I'll last too long in there." He said he's been wanting to move for years now, and this was the straw that broke the crippled camel's back. I told him if he found a new place to move into, that I would help him out when the time came to haul all of his crap around town.
So Ed actually found a new apartment and I followed through on my promise to help him move. I learned a couple of things through this process, A) Ed looks like Skeletor without his teeth in and B) This guy had boxes apon boxes of useless crap he's saved throughout the years. For an example, he had two shoe boxes with the original shoes still inside, never worn, purchased in the 1960's. What the hell are you waiting for? Might as well give'em a test spin before the grim ripper takes you away old man. Most of his crap was piled high in the storage cube he has in the basement of his apartment. I remembered the map he made of that cube, he knew what was in each box and who was going to get that box when he finally croked, very meticulous that Ed. He was trying to show that map to me once, but I really wasn't looking at it with much thought. That would be like listening to a bumb talk about his covetted garbage collection.
So a week after the move was completed, Ed walks up to me and says, "Andy, I don't think I'm gunna make it through the winter, that place is too big to heat, and I'm freezing. I gotta get out of there." And now that I think of it, perhaps that also explains the pneumonia episode, ah well. If I was the type of person that was into assaulting the elderly, I may have slugged him one in the breadbasket at that exact moment, but I didn't. I just played the "Oh that's too bad" card and tried to avoid that topic of conversation. No way in hell, I'm helping him move his mound of crap again. During the move I also became aware that his condition is worse than I first thought. We were sitting there watching TV when all of a sudden he decides it's time for his nebulizer treatments. It looked like an electronical bong that he sucked on to receive medical vapors that helped clear his lungs. And when it's time for the nebulizer treatment, it's time for the nebulizer treatment, no screwing around. He had me fetching all the component parts, and fetching this and fetching that. In my head, I was thinking, "Get your own crap you lazy bastard, I'm trying to watch the game." And at that moment, I realized that Ed wasn't as much in need of a friend, as he was a nurse's aid. So from that point on, I decided to distance myself from Ed, try and get back to a customer/cashier relationship. Well actually, the pneumonia episode put him in the hospital for awhile and after that he stopped coming into the gas station, opting for the grocery store that was closer to his apartment.
This move happened just before Thanksgiving of 2004. We probably stopped seeing each other sometime after winterbreak, my class hours were later than normal, and I never saw him much. Somehow through the moving process, I ended up with three boxes of books that were his, and a Frank Sinatra four cd box set. The cd's, I know I was just supposed to borrow for awhile, but I never saw the guy, and the books, I think I was supposed to glance through and see if there were any books I wanted and then return the rest.
I have yet to even look into any of the boxes, or even listen to the cd's. Neither of us want to be the first to say anything about the situation. He thinks I'm mad at him, and after four months or so, I've been fearing the visit of shame where I return his stuff with my tail tucked between my legs, looking like a monumental jackass knowing I've had his possessions for way longer than the courtesy week or two. Each passing month just adds to the awkwardness of the eventual get together the two of us might someday have.
I'm going to hell for this, aren't I? Stealing from the elderly....... I'm surprised I haven't burst into flames already.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Draft #24
With the Packers giving the fans of Wisconsin absolutely nothing to cheer for on a week to week basis, I figured it was time to find something new to get excited about. And wouldn't you know it, the Universtiy of Wisconsin hockey team is ranked number one in the nation! This isn't to say that I've given up on watching the Packers, but I figured now was a good time to jump on the Badger hockey bandwagon. The Badgers recently swept the number four ranked Gophers this weekend in Minnesota, a feat that has not been accomplished since 1970. I watched each game on Friday and Saturday and I must say, it was pretty exciting to watch a team that didn't suck.
The only problem with my getting excited about hockey, is that in general, I'm not a big fan of hockey. I don't despise the sport like I do soccer, but I've never been able to sustain a long term interest in hockey. The two games I watched this weekend were probably the first full hockey games I've viewed in...........probably my whole life. I'm definitely not a diehard fan, but I do know the difference between a wrister and a slapshot. I know what a one-timer is (both on and off the ice), what a hat trick is, what a powerplay is, and how low-scoring the sport is. So in order to become an avid Badger hockey fan, I figured it's time I sit down and learn some of the intricate details and rules that make up this game on ice.
And.............after about 15 minutes of glancing through the rule book, I felt the overwhelming urge to stab myself in the eye with a pencil. I'll probably learn the difference between tripping, slashing, high sticking, gouging, prodding, and illegal penetrating all in due time, no need to torture myself in one afternoon trying to learn something on my own. I think I'll learn the ways of hockey the old fashion way, watching the games on television while drinking beer. In fact, I think that's how I'll do most of my learning from here on out.
Here are the top eight point scorers for the Badgers so far this season:
1. Joe Pavelski- #8, forward, sophomore, 20 points (10 goals, 10 assists)
2. Robbie Earl- #10, forward, junior, 18 points (6 goals, 12 assists)
3. Ryan MacMurchy- #19, right wing, senior, 11 points (4 goals, 7 assists)
4. Tom Gilbert- #14, defenseman, senior, 10 points (2 goals, 8 assists)
5. Jack Skille- #12, forward, freshman, 9 points (5 goals, 4 assists)
6. Adam Burish- #16, forward, senior, 9 points (4 goals, 5 assists)
7. Ross Carlson- #27, forward, junior, 9 points (4 goals, 5 assists)
8. Jake Dowell- #11, forward, junior, 9 points (3 goals, 6 assists)
And the biscuit snatcher extraordinare, the junior who's number one in our hearts and is number one on his jersey, born in Canada, but not by choice, the one and goalie, Brian Elliot.
The Badgers play the Michigan Tech Fighting Something or Another's this weekend and hopefully Bucky and the boys can continue their border state beat down streak they are currently riding, thus, ensuring my Friday will be somewhat eventful.
And while I'm writing about UW sports, did you notice the weeks some of the UW alumni were having on NFL Sunday? The former Badger wide outs were posting fantasy numbers that would give even the oldest, most flacid of all football fans a raging flag pole. In a matchup no one in their right mind would pay to watch, the Dolphins beat the Bills with a winning touchdown catch by Chris Chambers. That catch was one of 15 he hauled in on the day, tallying a whopping 238 yards. Co-Madison alum, Lee Evans had an equally impressive day, catching 5 passes for 117 yards and three, count'em, three touchdowns. Even decrepit Minnesota running back, Michael Bennett, managed 89 yards of total offense and two scores, and I use the term running back loosely, he's more of a sprinter in football pads. And Ron Dayne saw the field of play, which in any given week is always a plus for good old Ron. Oh, and the football team was selected to play Auburn in the Capital One Bowl on January 2nd.
So all and all, it was an excellent weekend for the University of Wisconsin Madison, unless you are Brent Moss, then you are a coke head with no future, and every weekend is a bad weekend.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Draft #23
Random questions that simply must be answered.
Kobe Bryant, why are you wearing full length, black stockings during your basketball games? Do they make you jump higher? And your shoes, are you trying to convince us that hiking boots are fashionable? His road shoes look like hiking boots, don't they? Am I the only person noticing this?
Has anyone really torn the roof off of this mother?
Why does the Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey brakeup make me feel sad? Was it because Nick was living out every man's dream?
Where could I get my hands on a sugar mama like that?
How long does a jar of pickles usually last for, in a refrigerator?
Was Angelina Jolie really born in 1976?
Which would be cooler to ride in, the DeLorean or the General Lee?
How uncoordinated do you have to be to cut your lip shaving?
When did one of the female employees in my department start bringing Penthouse magazines to work?
If you were Natalie Portman, how pissed would you be about the emergence of Keira Knightley?
How sad is it, that an 80 year old lady shovels my driveway?
Who do car insurance people think they are, anyway?
How much would it suck to get busted for jaywalking?
Why is it whenever I watch the movie "Groundhog Day", I feel compelled to better myself as a well-rounded person, but fifteen minutes later, I'm back to scratching myself on the couch? Did any of you actually believe I left the couch for fifteen minutes?
Does the goatee make the man, or does the man make the goatee?
Will Umbro shorts ever make a comeback into daily fashion wear?
What is Shawn Kemp doing at this very exact moment?
When is the last time you flew a kite?
I wonder if it is possible to commit aggravated assault over the phone? Wouldn't you like to try?
How underrated are peas as a good source of protein?
Do you think that if I chopped down a cherry tree that it would become an act of legendary proportions?
How shameful is it, that people with missing appendages lead more productive lives than I do?
Would you date a Jessica Simpson look a like who's nowhere near as wealthy, and.............. she has a stuttering problem?
Why doesn't the WNBA just lower their rims to nine feet?
What has to be done to wipe that stupid look off of Mike Sherman's face?
Jungle fever? Are all black people really from the jungle? Who came up with THAT phrase?
Would someone please explain to me, the science behind beefed jerky?
Eskimo's, they're quite the funny breed, aren't they?
Do you think Grimace ever envisioned that Barney would become so popular?
